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the-fandom-is-now-my-life · 2 months

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How the iudex sleeps

Unexpectedly enough Fontaine started wondering how the great judge is productive enough to do all his work and some bizarre ideas start pooping up until the iudex himself says his 'secrets'

Read also: otters sleep holding hands and with their babies on their bellies and I found that incredibly sweet

WC: 1,3K

Cw: gn reader, you both have a baby but it isn't specified if he is biologically related or adopted

‘The chief of justice is a busy person’ is a known fact amongst the citizens of Fontaine, who see him working through many cases plus uncountable quantities of paperwork. That led to a question for some people ‘how does he get enough energy for the day’ at first the common guess was coffee but they were told off by an angry melusine.

“Huff! As if monsieur Neuville would ever drink such things! Only weird humans can drink something that bitter”

That quickly shut down that possibility and led them back to the board of ideas. About that time reporters started to notice how many people seemed interested in maximizing their energy and being awake for longer, while they aren't life changing or particularly interesting sections, some weeks are remarkably unremarkable and anything is better than nothing.

Now every week there would be a few merchants promoting tonics, pallets and pills that enhance energy, even when they would find ways to waltz around trying to mention the judge in their advertisements.

‘Lawfully energetic’

‘as fierce as a dragon’

‘enough to stand 100 trials’

Even if the last one was almost enough for the mermonia palace to get involved for using Neuvillette's name it was vague enough that it got off the hook.

Usually Furina’s crew would be able to rehearse two scenes before tea time but for some reason it was already 2 pm and they were still rehearsing the beginning of the play.

“ I'm sorry, Ms. Furina, I just can't connect two ideas together today” the female lead says as she grabs her head, sighing deeply. Furina touches her back and before she can ask about it someone shares a thought to the air.

“ Oh! Have you tried nilotpala lotus tea? It seems to stimulate the nervous system and clear up brain fog. Maybe the iudex uses that” the man who was supposed to be practicing the piano to match the scene says with a slight poison over his words.

“ Isn't brain fog rich coming from you?” Furina yaps at him “ your tempo was off the whole day” as she looks over his shoulder and rather than seeing a music sheet she finds the newest issue of steambird “what are you even reading? Focus on the piano! We have a show next week!”

She quickly grabs the paper and starts reading the small column with advertisements and tricks, huffing at the idea “stop reading those newspapers and keep rehearsing! The magic fix you are looking for is simply a good night sleeps, like the iudex you are stalking for an answer” she sighs loudly before looking at her crew.

“Is that all?”

“Simply a good night's sleep. What else were you expecting? An extract with 10 times more caffeine than a cup or liyue acupuncture?” She looks at her crew and finds some of them nodding and others seemingly disappointed “now, a break or can we start from the top?”

Unsurprising enough, very few people believed what she claimed, most likely wishing for a strange concoction that can make up for bad habits. Even then a few girls believed it to be rational enough of an answer, seemingly even one of them must have said furina knew his whole nighttime routine causing a hoard of reporters to crowd her door asking senseless questions.

‘Does he use sleep mists?’

‘What kind of fabric are his sheets?”

‘What does he eat before bed? Does he drink water?’

After being stalked everywhere from her home to the supermarket or the café she started dressing up in disguise to escape, luckily a few days after she noticed the quantity of reporters went down and only one came knocking on her door asking about the rescheduling of her play.

“ Oh, yes, we had to reschedule as there was an ‘important trial’ that had to be dealt with urgently. A representative of the palais mermonia apologized for the inconveniences but in the end the most important thing is justice!” furina says with her characteristic theatrical flare. Now looking at the reporter scribbling things on his notebook she adds a bit “the new date will be in two weeks, if someone presents the special meet and greet tickets with the old date they will still be valid”

As he finishes writing he goes off to write the article “thanks miss!”

Now standing on the doorway to the rehearsal room, Furina was expecting the usual sleepy greetings or the usual chitchatter or gossiping but, unusually enough, the whole room was silent and her whole crew was hunched over a spot, their backs facing her.

Clearing her throat she greets them first but they still don't react “ morning? Guys? Are you all okay?” she rounds them trying to get their attention until one of them catches sight of her.

“Director! Look! Monsieur Neuvillette told his secret to the newspapers!” He grabs the yellow paper and holds it to her face, a big bold font meeting her eyes.

CASE MELUSINE AND OTHER QUESTIONS WITH THE IUDEX: PAST CASES TO HIS GREATEST SECRET

‘Greatest secret?’ Furina thinks for a second ‘did he already publicly state to be the hydro dragon? Doesn't seem like it’ but she quickly smiles at her co actor “So? What is his secret?”

But all her crew look at her with a questioning glare “ what we have been wondering all this time? Who would have guessed our director was right!”

“What is that even supposed to mean?!”

Charlotte looks at the pages full questions she prepared for her so desired meeting, who knew that after so long wishing for it she would truly get a chance to interview the iudex, even if half the questions she prepared couldn't be answered for privacy or because the cases weren't closed she got enough material to fill a good pair of pages. Even then she couldn't lose this opportunity and started asking the ‘dumber’ or sillier questions

Looming over one particular line she wonders, would the judge consider it rude for her to ask that given he was giving her his important time but she simply swallows and asks

“How are you able to work through so much work?”

“My apologies?” Neuvillette furrows his brows and looks confused “I don't think I quite understand what you mean”

Charlotte breathes in deeply before elaborating “People have been wondering how you have enough energy to do all the work you are able to do”

Neuvillette stays silent for a second with his eyes closed

“It's known the iudex doesn't talk about his private life, so if you don't want to answer-”

“ It's not that” Neuvillette reassures her calmly “it wasn't a question I was expecting, that is all” he crosses his legs and details as Charlotte writes

But regardless of how many tries we have thrown to the ceiling we all were wrong, the way our judge is able to power through the day is simple actually, a comfortable bed and his beloved family. Even if he refused to expand on information about his family he did speak more about his routine.

“I'm unsure why people care so much suddenly but it's very simple, really, I always sleep with my lover in bed and keep our child on my chest” even as Charlotte choked on her own spit at a sudden juicy revelation neuvillette barely glanced over the rim of his goblet “we are also rather particular about bedding, but for now we settled on silk flower sheets made I'm liyue”

As he drinks water a small smile creeps up his lips, remembering that very morning vividly, his fingers firmly entangled with yours, almost as if he fears you would leave and meet a cold spot when he wakes up, even when you are practically hugging his side. Or your young baby peeking his head out of his father's sleeping shirt and feeling the soft beating of his heart with a pleased face.

Hm, he is sure that is why he always wakes up with enough energy to power through his duties .

Opening his eyes he finds Charlotte with small tears on her lashes and muttering ‘how sweet’.

“ So about your son…?”

“No”

“Understood”

#genshin impact #gi #neuvillette x reader #neuvillete x reader #neuvillete #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #the blue text was supposed to be tte newspaper #hshshs just in case it didn't translate that way #neuvillette otter

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reverieblondie · 1 month

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Nobel Blood

Pairing: Rolan x Fem!Tav Reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Fluff and Smut with Plot, Penetrate sex, Tail rubbing?, Desk sex, Cream pie.

Summary: High society has never been your thing, and now your having to go to the Raven Ball...Maybe you will see a familiar face trying to conduct himself in a new landscape...

A/N: This might be completely self indulgent...but I liked it...

Word Count: 7,370 (I got carried away...)

“What about this one? What do you think?”

Rolan appears from behind his changing screen in a new blue jacket with silver embroidery and buttons. The collar and cuffs are lined with silver. His pants are black and a bit tighter to his body than he is accustomed to. The boots he’s wearing are shining and new. Giving himself a once-over in the mirror in his room, he turns around, holding out his arms.

“Be honest… Thoughts?”

A very bored-looking Cal is lying on Rolan's bed. He turns his head, looks at his brother, and gives him a once-over.

“Like I told you about the four other outfits… You look fine. Please just pick one!”

Rolan scoffs, “Cal, this is important. I have to look my best to make a good first impression. There will be a lot of important people there today. This could lead to some great opportunities.”

Cal looks at Rolan, a bit worried, “Rolan, you are putting a lot of pressure on yourself. Just go and relax, maybe meet someone, make friends. You know, have fun!”

Rolan rolls his eyes as he does his hair in his usual tight, twisted bun, “I’m not going to waste the opportunity to have fun!”

Once he had finished with his hair, he adjusted his collar before turning to have Cal assess him once more. When he turned, he saw the prominent frown on Cal's face. He sighs, “Cal, you know how people look at us. This is a chance to change people's perceptions.”

“The right people, you don't have to change their perceptions…”

The room is quiet, and a silent understanding fills the space. The silence is cut by Lia busting through the doors of the master bedroom. Looking at them like they have lost their minds.

“What are you two doing? Rolan, stop fussing and get going! You get invited to a ball and waste your time primping!”

Rolan sighs as Lia dusts off his shoulders and places his invite in his jacket pocket. Pausing, she looks at his hair and starts to pull and loosen his usual style, making it softer looking with some strains to frame his face and the tips of his ears poking out a bit more,

“What the hells Lia! My hair was fine!”

“No, you always wear it so tight you want it looser, rugged.”

“I’m going for cool and collect.”

“Yeah, but ladies like a bit of ruggedness.”

Rolan swats away her hands and starts to leave,

“I'm not going there to get a date!”

Lia huffs at his leaving figure, “Hopeless…”

Cal looks over at Lia, “Any chance he’s going to loosen up and have a good time tonight.”

Lia takes a moment to ponder the question, “If the right person talks to him.”

-KAW!-

The sudden noise tries to break you from your slumber, but only briefly before you lol back to your dreams…magic hands…a soft warmth…a husky whisper…

-KAW KAW!-

The dream is ripped from you as your eyes are popped open; on pure instinct, you reach for your knife under your pillow, but as you look towards the noise, you pause.

The Falcon blinks and tilts its head at you, curiously fidgeting and hopping closer to you. You pull your hand away from the blade and sigh at the familiar bird, “Hello, Rune. Do you have something for me?”

Rune turns, revealing a message carrier just like you expected, “Clever bird,”

Reaching over you, you scratch her neck while you retrieve the message from the red tube. The tube has an emblem very familiar to you: a golden long sword with vines and two golden roses by the sword's hilt. The paper is thick and white, wrapped with a red ribbon. Unwrapping it, you see the fancy script, and it clicks to you what is happening.

“An invitation for the Raven Ball…and I'm guessing they are hoping for me to attend?”

Rune kaws in what seems to be agreement; you nod at her.

“Well, I guess I should head that way… she's bound to be waiting for me.”

Walking up to the massive mansion lined with guards and littered with candles. The entryway is opened for the invited to shuffle in and out of the party. Just deep breaths, smile, and be pleasant…have grace, and don’t throw punches to the face; saying the rhyme in your head brings back fond memories, and you have to stifle a laugh breaking from your throat. One of your two companions notices you hiding a smirk; he notices everything, and it never fails to drive you crazy.

“Nervous Darling?” Astarion smirks, his red eyes observing you as if he could read your mind.

“Nope, are you?” You challenge.

Astarion fakes a laugh and smiles, showing his long fangs flashing in the candlelight. “Never”

Typical…

Walking through the entrance is like walking through time; these balls have always been the same. The host and the house may change, but the overcrowded rooms are filled with the rich and self-important. Deep breaths… keep taking deep breaths….

Arriving at the main hall of the home with Astarion and Shadowheart in tow, you pause with them as they marvel at the grand space. It truly is a beautiful event. Servers glide around the room with their pristine trays, serving fine wines to everyone; Astarion is quick to grab himself a glass as they walk past. The center of the room is filled with people clapping and turning, floating along to the music. Shadowheart keeps her green eyes scanning the dance floor; she is looking for someone in particular…it is the only reason she decided on attending this ball, along with your pleading. Moving your eyes around the space, the candles light the room brightly and make the gilded arches and decor glimmer in an almost magic shine. Knowing how these people love theatrics, they probably had wizards put on some spells for the grandeur of it all.

Turning to your friends, you see they are entirely taken in by the atmosphere, though when Astarion meets your eyes, he plays his wonderment off as if this is nothing to him. As they continue to stroll about, you continue to fuss around with your dress, the corset's tightness starting to irritate you, and the flowing skirt and sleeves feeling like they're going to wrap around your legs and trip you. You curse under your breath as you have a small battle with the dress picked out for you.

“Dress issues?” Astarion teases

You roll your eyes, and you adjust the bodice up, but you find the action is in vain as your cleavage is still on full display. It's been years, and it makes sense the dress wouldn’t lay the same, but the high golden necklace always sat tight on your neck, forcing you to keep your head up, the exposedness of your chest and shoulders always made your cheeks flush, and the tight bodice lined with gold down to your hips always made your breath short. You did like the ruffled white skirt with the red front panel and the matching red sleeves that go from bust to cascade down your arms; it did look nice. But the part you constantly fidget with for comfort is the emblem at the center of your sweetheart neckline. It's that same one it's always been, a golden longsword with two golden roses…

“Just…adjusting…” you smirk back to hide your irritation.

“These corsets are murder but do wonders for the figure at least?” Shadowheart chimes in

Her silvery white hair contrasted beautifully with her lilac silk dress. The fabric looks like it drapes and flows effortlessly off her polling elegantly at the bottom, and as she moves, it reveals a long slit over her right leg. For a dress she picked out today, it looks like it could have been custom-made for her. She had fussed about the dress and her hair, wearing it in a different style than usual, but you assured her she looked terrific and would catch the eye of a certain soon-to-be duke…

Astarion places reassuring hands on yours and her shoulders. “Well, the dresses are definitely an improvement from the drab, caked-up with, grime outfits I had grown accustomed to seeing you in.”

You both look at each other before looking at him unamused. “Thanks, Astarion…” you say in unison, not completely happy that he pointed out your dirty states on the journey you all met on.

“Anytime Darlings~”

Shadowheart’s eyes go back to the dancefloor, and you think for a moment that you see her getting on her tiptoes (despite being in heels) to look over some heads.

“I think I might stroll around the room…see if I can find any…interesting company.”

You and Astarion look at each other, knowing what she truly means; translation: Shadowheart is going to look for Wyll. They are such an opposite duo, but they are just drawn to one another. Astarion always teases the names Shadow Princess and the Horned Prince when talking about them and their longing for each other.

Shadowheart turns to see your smirking faces and she rolls her eyes before walking off. Good luck you silently wish for her…

You watch as she makes her way through the crowd, a part of you wants to go with her to help navigate the space but you know she wants privacy for this and you don’t blame her. While you watch the floor a familiar sensation of red eyes and a fiendish smirk being placed in your direction makes you shudder. Looking up at him you see a very well-dressed Astarion looking like a vision in all black except for the wine-colored small jacket and gold and ruby necklaces hanging from his neck. When you asked about the jewels he just chuckled and left a quick poke on your nose, a way to irritate you and avoid your questions. He continues to stare and smile at the devious thoughts running rampant in his mind.

“Yes?”

Astarion looks away with a slight laugh, “Oh, nothing nothing…just curious if you were going to go look for anyone special tonight. Any fine suitors on the line for you to turn about with?”

When asked only one person flashes in your mind, but you shake it off not wanting to get your hopes too high. He would probably find something like this a waste of time.

“No, I’m planning a rather dull evening of just watching the grander, saying hi to familiar faces. No suitors eager for my hand. You?”

Astarion looks around the room piercing his lips, “I might also be having a rather drab evening…nothing seems to catch my eye, which is too bad I was in the mood to make some trouble.”

A slight laugh escapes your throat and Astarion looks at you with a raised brow, “Something funny?”

“Well, I just think you have changed a lot since a certain bear tagged along…come to think of it you just came back from the old shadow lands and are planning to go back…”

Astrion narrows his eyes at you and you grin widely knowing he’s smitten.

“Very clever…well, I will leave you to it, going to go find some more wine and maybe go rub elbows with some important-looking people…”

“Play nice Astarion!”

“No promises! Ta Ta!”

With both your friends gone you're now alone in the ballroom and now it definitely feels like old times. Memories of your childhood flash through your mind as you watch. In your memory it's a younger you, biting her lip in disdain and fumbling with her dress, head sore with the elaborate braids that were decorated with trinkets and jewels. The biggest thing you remember? The feeling so isolated and unwelcomed by people meant to be your peers. You can recall two gentle hands placed on your shoulders as people just passed you by…

Shaking off the memories you look at the huddles of people near the walls engaged in conversations, “Well, better go say hi to mom and dad…” Gathering up your skirt and taking another deep breath you go on the prowl.

It was overwhelming and Rolan had to stand to the side to recollect himself. It turns out that coming to socialize with people from the upper city was a lot more difficult than he initially expected. He was starting to wonder why the hell he came here. Yes, he had been formally invited but the people didn’t seem to know who he was or they were staring at him and whispering amongst themselves. Was this all a joke…was he just a thing to be stared at and mocked for the night's entertainment?

Looking down at his crimson hands and long nails…his tail twists around his leg as he balls his hands into tight fists. He shouldn’t have come here, he didn’t belong. Cal and Lia had been so excited about his invitation and were eager to help him get ready with high hopes of him growing his name to the city's lords and ladies. He had promised to make friends and get them invited to the next ball, but now that seems like a silly fantasy.

Unraveling his tail and holding his head up, he decides to leave until a familiar figure catches his eye. Astarion? The pale elf has his red eyes on Rolan while keeping a smug smile on his face, instead of waving or greeting him; however, Rolan's thoughts trail to something, someone else. Scanning the room he’s hoping to catch the sight of a particular hero…

“If it isn't the Archmage of Ramaziths Tower, I figured you would see these parties as a waste of time.”

Rolan's body immediately tenses and he turns around quickly, You smile for having spooked him. You watch as his shining eyes widen as they trail over you, his lips slightly parted and you think you hear his tail fall to the ground. From his reaction alone you're suddenly no longer lamenting having to wear the dress and in fact decide to stand a bit straighter. Once he realizes he’s staring he averts his gaze from your chest and neck, clearing his throat.

“Tav, what…why?”

“What? Not happy to see me?

“I- no…I mean I am! Well not happy, I mean I am happy but not super happy, but a surprised happy! Uh…pleasantly surprised….”

His eyes meet yours and winces at himself, understanding how these parties can whine someone up you decide to ease the tension. Giggling at his rambling you gently punch his shoulder breaking the awkwardness threatening to set in. The force of the punch causes him to stumble and smile.

“It’s good to see you, but I’m a little shocked. I figured these parties would be far too stuffy for such a great adventuring hero of the gate.”

You shrug looking out to the party where you see Astrion watching you two, you give him a look of ‘what?’ and he shakes his head with a smirk and walks away. You turn back to Rolan,

“Actually I’m pretty used to these stuffy parties.”

Rolan’s brows furrow as he looks down at you confused, you do the same as you look up at him, and then it clicks.

“Rolan, I’m from Baldur's Gate. I grew up having to go to these parties and having to take etiquette classes. My mother is a countess, from a long line of nobility and my father is a general for a regiment of the city's army.”

Rolan's eyes widen as you nonchalantly explain your past, “Your… a lady from an important house of Baldur's Gate…and you were out slumming it in the wild? Wielding swords and blowing up goblin camps?”

Thinking for a second you nod “Yeah, my dad used to take me camping and taught me how to fight. Mom wanted me to be a proper socialite but I didn't exactly fit in… Once I got older they told me I could go travel the swords coast, get the wildness out of me before finding a suitor, ya know?”

Rolan shakes his head with a smile, “So you left all of this to adventure and ended up getting a tadpole in your head. That inevitably leads you back here…”

“Hey, I had adventures before that! But I will say that one was my favorite.”

Rolan smirks and looks down at you, “Because it made you a hero?”

You look up at him, his gentle gaze and soft loose strands of hair cascading around his horns making your heart flutter, “Because I got to make friends, and meet you.”

Rolan's face gets slightly darker as he thinks of something to say. With him tongue-tied you take the opportunity to tease him more by sticking your tongue at him. He rolls his eyes and turns away, you swear you see the tips of his ears a light hue of marron now.

“Why are you here? And are Cal and Lia with you? I miss them and their tormenting of you.” You continued to tease. Though you see Rolan’s face slightly drop.

“Well…I was the only one to receive an invitation and I didn’t realize I could bring anyone…I wish I would have, with them around I wouldn’t feel so…” Rolan shakes his head as if to shake away his thought, “I came here to meet people to get them interested in the tower's knowledge and to show that I am a worthy archmage. But I haven’t been able to talk to anyone “

Your heart sinks as you listen to Rolan, you remember having to go there alone at times…Rolan is always trying so hard for his family, it's quite honorable of him and one of the things that drew you to him. Thinking for a moment you try to think of a plan before it hits suddenly, “Rolan I can get you a formal introduction to someone who is very important and that I know would like to hear about the tower.”

Rolan’s face lights up, “I would, I would be so grateful.”

Smiling you wrap your arm around Rolan’s elbow, a part of you thought that he would recoil but he seems to welcome the gesture by straightening his posture and tightening up his arm. Your hand creases his bicep and it takes every part of you not to start teasing him about his surprisingly muscular form. Act like a proper socialite, for Rolan’s sake.

As you two stroll about the floor you keep your eyes peeled. Though you do see some people staring at you and Rolan as you walk arm in arm, you figure people are just wanting to gawk at the hero and the new archmage.

“Seems like we are popular sights tonight.”

Rolan hums, “I think you are the popular sight, I’m probably more of the skeptical…”

“Specktical?”

Looking over to meet your eyes Rolan just gently squeezes your hand, “Never mind, uh, so who are we looking for?”

“Her.”

Pointing out your finger you lead Rolan’s eyes to a group of women fanning themselves as they scan their eyes like hawks around the room. They are all dressed immaculately and as the two of you approach they keep their eyes locked on you both. One of the women quickly whispers to a taller woman, the taller woman turns and Rolan has to hold back his gasp.

She looks like you…well an older version but still stunning. Rolan feels his throat instantly dry and when he looks over to you with a panicked expression, he admittedly comprehends what's happening and he’s never felt so unprepared in his life. Feeling him tense you keep a soft smile and gently rub small circles on his hand, trying to ensure he’s calm when meeting your mother.

In front of the intimidating woman (he sees where you get it now) you release yourself from his arm and give a curtsy. Rolan follows your lead and gives a bow.

“Countess, I would like to formally introduce you to Archmage Rolan, Master of Ramaziths Tower. Rolan, this is the Countess, also known as my mother.”

You feel your cheeks grow red, you're introducing a man to your mother…you never thought this would be happening, it’s very proper of you. Looking up at her face you see a soft smile, for her that’s practically beaming. So far so good.

“I heard about the last master's passing…” she says casually. You and Rolan exchanged a glance before she continued “Can’t say I wasn’t fond of the news, he was always a poor representation of the tower. A bit of a cad.”

Rolan’s jaw practically drops and you are quick to continue the conversation for him while he recollects himself,

“Well, I will have to tell you Rolan is quite proficient in magic, self-taught and self-disciplined. He plans on studying and cataloging the tomes in the tower to then share the knowledge with the realms.” You praise

“That's quite the honorable aspiration for a young man. I am sure everyone would be quite pleased to have access to its knowledge. I have been to your tower once before in my youth, the smell of the weave in the air and the majesty of all the books still leaves me with pleasant memories.”

Meaning: ‘Invite me over to see the tower again because ladies do not invite themselves places’. You're not a bit surprised your mother is taking a fast liking to Rolan, he has a title, is respectable, and usually can hold his own in a conversation but today he seems to keep getting tongue-tied, we’ll chop that up to nerves. With a subtle nudge to his arm, you break him out of his daze where he can give her a proper answer.

“Well, th-thank you. I think everyone should have access to knowledge if they want it. Also, you and Tav should join me at the tower for tea. I will have to prepare a bit but I would be delighted to have you two there.”

Two of her ladies-in-waiting mutter something to each other earning them a prompt glare from the Countess. They quickly scurry away.

“I would be delighted to just name the date. Plus I would love to hear about how you two met, knowing my daughter that story will be filled with twists and turns.”

Rolan giggles and you look at your mom in shock as she openly teases you. You have never seen her be so casual with a stranger, well for her this is casual. You can’t help but feel a warmth in your chest, you never were one to crave approval from anyone but it does feel nice when your Mother seems to improve the boy you like.

“I will have you know I handled myself with dignity and grace-“

“I watched her punch someone in the face for defending my kind, it was a lasting impression, a good one,” Rolan says with a laugh and causes your mother to let out a giggle -that woman never giggles!

“Well I will have to forgive her for that, sounds like that punch was well deserved.” Your mother looks at you and you see a softness in her eyes “My tough girl.”

The moment is soft before your mother changes the subject. Ladies must keep the conversation flowing after all.

“Now Tav, why don’t you introduce Master Rolan to your father? I’m sure he would love to meet him.”

With a curtsy and a bow, you two make your way to find your father.

“Never seen you so proper…” Rolan leans down to whisper in your ears, you have to fight the tingling that threatens to show on your skin. Nothing quick like his mockery so close to you.

You take Rolan's arm so he’s leading you through the room, “Never seen you so tongue-tied…” you mock back.

“She's intimidating… I see where you get it from…”

“You should see when she doesn’t like someone, that’s intimidating.”

“Any warnings about your father? Or do you plan to surprise me again?”

“Oh but you do look so cute lost for words, I didn’t know wizards had that capability.” you coo back now blatantly flirting, very unladylike. The scandal…

Feeling bold Rolan tightens his grip on your arm where you can feel his nails against your skin, it is mind-numbing this sudden game. “And I didn't know how ravishing you look in a dress so tightly wound to you.”

The sudden boldness of his words makes you pause, and your cheeks redden. Rolan nervously clears his throat unsure if he overstepped… he brings his eyes up for a distraction and lucky for him he finds one.

“Tav look”, Following his gesture to the dance floor you see a heartwarming sight that distracts your thrumming heart. Wyll spins around the dance floor holding Shadowheart close to his body and he leads her through the dance. They look like a vision together, everyone seems to pause and look at them as they command the space with little effort.

It's while you're watching them you feel a warm hand wrapping around your own. Looking up to its source you see Rolans gleaming eyes on yours taking you in slowly. You swear it’s a secret spell of his to become out of breath and feel sparks when you look at him. The feeling rushes through your veins like it has since you first met him at the grove and all the moments after. Rolan's lips part gracing you with a quick view of his sharp teeth till suddenly you feel yourself being grabbed and thrown into the air.

“And! There is my wayward daughter! Our righteous hero graced us with her presents! Ha Haaa!”

The voice is loud and booming as the large arms wrap around you forcing your body into the air before crashing you back down to your heeled feet. Your father, as bostress as ever and completely uncaring for these parties 'etiquettes’ as always. In a lot of ways, the apple did not fall from the tree.

Taking a moment he scans over you, it's been far too long since you saw him, and from how you ramble and rave at each other it shows. Then his eyes start to scan around you till they are meeting with Rolans, and your father smiles like a Cheshire cat.

“Ah, and I see the rumors are true. You have a gentleman escort this evening.”

“Actually I have two others but one is dancing with the Duke's son while the other is bound to be causing trouble.”

“Trading in for different companies.” His eyes go to Rolan and you see him tease over your father's gaze, “Now to see if this man was worth it.”

“Well, he is a wizard…” Your eyes go to Rolan and you two are now assessing him

“Meet plenty of spellcasters,”

You continue, “Archmage of Ramiths tower…he got the areca artillery working in the battle saving my and my friends' necks.

“The Fire Rainer!” Your father yells, making Rolan and nearby people jump.

Before Rolan can properly process what is happening your Father is grabbing his hand in a crushing grip that Rolan returns.

“My men, We were all in awe of your work getting those dusty turrets to work. And for helping my Tav. Good man.” he continues to shake Rolan's hand for a long moment before letting go and placing a hand on your shoulder.

“He’s good company to keep, strong grip and with fire in his eyes.”

You look at Rolan giving him a nod of a good job before your father is turning to both of you. With a wide grin.

“Now! Rolan, if you walk around with my daughter you must ask her for a dance!”

Rolan stutters over his words as you look at your father like he’s lost his mind.

“Dad, You can’t make him dance.”

“Why not? He wishes to be near you; he must dance with you.”

The words make you flush as you avoid Rolan's eyes, “He’s not the dancing type…”

This causes Rolan to lift a brow, then you feel Rolan’s warm hands on yours leading you suddenly towards the dance floor. In a swift flourish, Rolan spins you and grasps his hand in yours, placing the other on your hip and smirking at your shocked expression…

“Looks like he is!” your father calls barely audible through the music.

The transition to the dance is effortless as you two glide across the floor. Watching his glimmering eyes on yours is spurring your heart into a rush. Your body feels like it’s on fire as he effortlessly glides you through turns and claps. Eyes never leaving one another.

“I didn’t know you knew how to dance?”

Rolan scoffs, “Of course, I know how to dance, you don’t think I haven’t gone to parties before?”

lifting a brow, you look at him with an unamused expression, “OK, I might have practiced…”

You laugh and let him spin you out, then catching your hand and pulling you back to him. His hands in yours, your back flushed to his chest. The dance is completely intertwining, his scent, his warmth, the purring of his chuckling laugh. You want more, your hope is for this dance to never end so you can stay in his arms.

With a twist and a sway of your hips, you smile at him as the blush rushes to his speckled cheeks, a reminder that you are experienced at these dances and you will not hesitate to spice up the moves if it means rubbing against him. It makes his heart thum as he turns you around again, his tail wrapping slightly around your dress as he steps with you till plunging you down to a dip.

A perfect dance partner, finally.

You two stay locked within each other's snare, a small feeling of leaning forward towards each other causing your mouth to water in anticipation of a kiss. Then breaking you two from the moment is roaring applause that fills the room. He lets you rise, and you two join the applause of the musicians as well.

A normal socialite would worry if people could tell how much you liked him. You don’t care, however, Rolan is magnificent, and you would scream it at the top of your lungs, but you know this is his chance to impress rich bastards and prove himself worthy of his new illustrious Title. Of course, the right people already know this, he doesn’t need to impress them.

As you look to the crowd to make your way to your dad to give him sass (and maybe a pat on the back for making that happen for you) you see Rolan Pointing to the front part of the dance floor, music starting to swell up again and your father and mother swaying to the song. Another set of perfectly matched dance partners.

Offering his elbow to you again, you curtsy at Rolan's gesture and let him lead you off the floor. A perfect gentleman, If your mother is watching she is beaming with pride (though she will talk to you about that hip swaying later). Off the floor, your dry throat hits you,

“ I'm going to get a drink, do you want anything?”

“Oh I can-“

“Rolan I can grab drinks, I’m still a hero of the Gate, not a delicate flower.” You tease him.

“A glass of wine sounds great then,”

“I will be a quick second, wait here” With that you gather your skirt and shuffle away. Both of you trying to hide your dorky grins for one another.

Then a stray voice catches Rolan off guard, “Dancing with a noble…but don’t forget you're just hellspawn trash…”

Roland’s eyes widen, and he turns around quickly, but he is met with nothing but a crowd of people wrapped in their own world. One that some are not willing to invite him to. He watches them so clearly, trying not to stare, others staring, and sharing whispers. Then his eyes meet yours.

Golden eyes that you can always catch in any crowd. They shine his brilliance and never fail to make your heartbeat rush. Anyone would be lucky to have him look their way and right now that’s you, drinks in hand, you pick up your speed to get to him faster, but then his starburst eyes shut in something that resembles pain and then he’s gone…Rushing out of the room away from you.

Pausing you watch him leave, your heart sinking to your stomach. Swallowing down the feeling you place the cups on the nearest waiter's tray and run after him.

The hallways are dark as you follow after him. It only gets darker and darker, till you see him dipping into a side room, shutting the door behind him. It takes a bit of self-control on your part, not to rip the door off its hinges as you open it, but the site makes you slow down.

His tail twisted tightly to his leg, hands in his hair, and talking quickly in infernal. Gently you close the door behind you, and with a click lock giving you two privacy in the dark office. Rolan's shoulders tense at the sound of the lock, he can’t bear to look and see your disappointment. You carefully approach as he braces his hands down on the desk. His body so tight you think he will snap two.

“Rolan, wh-what happened?”

Turning his head, his golden eyes shine through the darkness. And they see you perfectly. Face contorted in worry as you gently approach. Your face is the one he knows, the one he saw shining in the sunlight of the Grove, the face that saved him from shadows in the cursed land, the one who held his bruised face so gently promising Lorroakan would never hurt him again… the hero of the gate…his hero.

Then his eyes tail down, his Tav, the hero, dressed in the finest fabrics, a lady of Noble Birth, someone too good for someone like him.

In your eyes, you see him for what he truly is, a strong dreamer, someone who you would walk through the Hells for. A man so dedicated to the ones he loves, you want to love and care for him till your last breath.

“I don’t belong here…I am a joke…a monster for everyone to gawk at.” He finally confesses.

Your eyes grow wide and all you feel is anger, “Did someone say something to you…do something?! Who? I swear I will-“

Before you can, march back into the ballroom and demand reconciliation with blood, you feel warmth wrapping around your shoulders and around your ankle. Rolan's warmth envelops you in his arms, holding you tightly to his chest. Clinging to his forearms you lean into him letting yourself calm.

“You're better than any of them…” you whisper

“Is that what you think?” he mutters in response

“Rolan it’s what I know, you're extraordinary.”

Rolan’s arms tighten around you making you never want to leave his caress, but you still turn to look at him. placing a hand on his face, he’s perfect in your eyes…

“We are different…” he almost pouts

“I like our differences.”

Rolan’s hands slip down to your waist.

“Won’t they slander you, and your family's name?”

“Not the people who matter to me…” your words like a promise

You lean into him rising to your toes to be only a touch away from his lips. You feel his breath fan across yours, and a rush of desire floods your body and mind.

“They will say I tainted you…” his hands caressing your face so gently

“They can go fuck themselves”

The smile you two share is perfect, right before he presses his lips to yours. His lips caressed yours, setting your body a flame, his nails digging into the sides of your dress, and as you felt their points, you gasped and let him trail his lips sloppily on your jaw to your neck. Your mind melted at every rush of his lips, becoming more breathless as the pleasure of this moment crashed over you then pooling into an aching need in your lower stomach. All the blood and the thoughts rush to your swelling bud, leaving your mind in a haze of lust.

Rolan’s tongue licks down at your clavicle while his hands move to cup your breast. You can’t help but shake as he presses kisses and sucks marks to the tops of them. Rolan’s lips find yours again in hunger this time as his tongue seeks to taste more of you. Eargery you met his passion with your own tasting, his wine-laced tongue burning against yours. Undoing the buttons of his jacket you strip it off him in a rush. Once it’s off and tossed to the floor he breaks the kiss and whimpers against your lips, his chest vibrating under your fingertips in a purr.

Turning you quickly, your thighs meet the side of the desk as his lips continue to caress your neck, removing your necklace to nip on your most sensitive spots, all you can do is moan and chant a series of ‘yeses’ and sweet mews of his name. He hums as he spoils himself, touching all over your form.

“More, Rolan…I want to feel more,” your pant

“Here?” The question is raspy and sends shivers through you to your sex.

“Yes.”

Rolan responds by peppering kisses all over you as he quickly gathers your skirt around your hips. Bending over you feel your face burn as you hear is breath hitch,

“F-fuck…” he whispers

You're already bare opting for no underwear, a destination you made on a meer whim but are happy with now. A whimper escapes him as he views you slick and puffy cunt for him, in a deep dialect he mutters something you can not understand that causes your slit to quiver. he no longer has patience his want takes control and you hear his frantic hands undoing his belt.

The moment is eager and full of hunger, the want between you two building to this moment of passion. Rolan has your skirts gathered in a fist as he pushes his burning erection through you making your head spin. The moment is raw and hungry as he hisses from your walls so tight and soft around him, fuck, nobody told him how…soft humans were…

The feeling of the stretch is eye-watering as a lewd moan erupts from your throat, then the feeling of every ridge sliding and reshaping your velvet insides. The curve of his cock brings his sharp tip to find your sensitive spot, nudging and coating it in his burning precum, your toes curl in your heels as your vision blurs, tightening your grip on the oak desk. It's hot, intense, and the best pleasure you have ever felt.

Rolan whimpers and moans as he pushes into your heat further. His face comes down to bury himself into your neck grunting in what sounds more like a whine. Sweat is sheening both of you now in this heated moment your only reprieve of coolness is his panting breath on your neck. Then his hand comes down to yours bracing you and he intervenes his fingers with yours before he gives a final thrust, his blazing tip now nudging on the deepest parts of you. Your slit is taut and your insides flutter against him as you get accustomed to his rigged girth.

“Gods, you feel amazing. Practically sucking me in…” his rich voice rasps into your ear making you shudder.

Taking a second to breathe in the scent of your sweaty neck and your cascading hair; further getting drunk off you. He rolls his hips back, and the drag of his ridges on your gummy walls is an unimaginable pleasure making you arch in a scream to your god.

Pulling to the tip it’s only a second of emptiness before his hips are snapping back into you forcing all the air from your lungs. Continuing to thrust into you back and forth at a constant pace, you mew and grip his hand so tightly. Your arousal drips down his cock and your thighs as it's fucked out of you, desperate to coat his cock.

“Their mighty hero…sweating and dripping for me. You're my girl…you have always been…”

You can’t even think coherent thoughts only able to respond by arching your back further. The room is drowned in your cock drunk moans and his deep growling as your pussy continues to get ravished by him. Hot waves start to build up in your stomach leaving tingles in their wake as you approach your ecstasy. Rolan feels your trembling against his cock making him angle it in deeper. He’s right in his sentiment…you are his…as he is yours…the bond you share led to this moment of passion—the ultimate satisfaction of the want you have for each other.

It's bliss and you rock your hips to meet his thrust, a chuckle escapes him before you feel the rough dragging being rewarded to your clit. It's warm and soft with lines of ridges dragging against you. It only dawns on you as you feel its spaded tip you realize he’s grinding his tail against your sticky sex. Both sensations make spots blur your vision as drool begins to pool in your agape mouth.

In a silent scream, your orgasm crashes over you as all your essences coats him dripping down to fall on his boots and pooling to the floor. Rolan guides you through your high not stopping his thrust while your sex desperately grips him. A ring of creamy arousal forms where you both connect. The sight and feel of your overstimulated pussy fluttering is enough to cause his hips to still and his cock to throb shooting blissfully hot cum in thick spurts, filling you to the brim. The growl is guttural and vibrates through him as he comes down from his high.

Rolan presses his forehead to your shoulder blades as he stays within you for a moment longer letting his ridges smooth as his cock softens till finally pulling out. You can feel the mix of both releases leaking down your legs uncomfortably resisting the urge to beg him to finger it back in.

“Wait one moment,” he says quickly with a soothing rub to your waist as you hear him digging around for his discarded jacket.

Then very gently you feel a soft cotton cloth whipping you down to clean you. Soft ‘shhs’ and coos leave his lips and he is careful over your spet sex. He takes his time, then once you're cleaned and your dress is back down you face his back as he cleans himself, looking over his shoulder with a smile as he retucks himself. Leaning back against the desk you relish in watching him rebutton himself up so elegantly.

His golden eyes stay on you as he gently caresses your sweaty face. Before he leaves he will snap his figures with a spell to clean you two of any lewd residue, but for now, he wants to relish your afterglow. You two stay in silent bliss and his eyes roam over your face, your fingers gently playing with the loose strains of his hair. He’s the first to speak up,

“I want to court you properly.”

Your eyes grow wide, and so does your smile, your heart racing, and sparks burst into your stomach.

“If you were planning to court me, we have already messed up. You're not supposed to have sex beforehand.”

“I don’t care; I’m not of noble blood, so I will do this my way.” there's that confidence.

Rolan pulls you in for a slow kiss that causes your heart to flip and your head to cloud in a pleasant fog.

“Good,” you whisper

Rolan backs up slightly and bows, causing you to giggle as he reaches for your hand. Placing your hand in his, you gently squeeze it as he brings it to his lips, kissing your knuckles softly like a suitor would any proper lady.

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imaginesheaven · 1 year

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TF 141 reacting to a very strong Reader(gn preferably) ? Like strong to the point they can lift at most 700pds? (315 kgs) like it's paper? Can be romantic or platonic

(ps. I have zero idea if you are taking requests I feel like this would be a funny thing)

Your wish is my command! This is literally so fun to write :D Keep the requests coming if you want :) I hope you like it!

Warnings: Cursing .. once again (I can't write literally nothing without a single curse word)

Strong!Reader x TF 141 - Friendship Headcanons

The team doesn’t know right away how strong you actually are. It’s not a fact you like to introduce yourself with. Mostly you keep it to yourself until you start to trust the people around you. Apart from this, you like it when people underestimate you.

Funnily your body doesn’t match your strength level at all. You have a rather slender and delicate form.

And that’s how you got your call sign within the Task Force 141. Soap started to call you “Tiny”, which has absolutely nothing to do with your height. He just likes to tease you. Unfortunately, the name got stuck in their brains and everyone calls you “Tiny”. At first you were not happy about it, but over the time you get used to it.

One evening it was your time to shine. Almost the whole team gathered to drink some beer or other alcoholics to unwind from a rather hard mission. Captain Price is nowhere to seen. Probably in his office doing some work like he always does. No one of you is really drunk just a bit more loose than usual.

Of course, Soap started to throw around dares like there is no tomorrow. We all know our beloved Scottish clown. You enjoy the sight as they try to out beat each other in different dares like who can drink more in ten seconds and so on.

“(Y/N), you are so tiny! I’m pretty sure you can’t even pick up Gaz!”, Soap can’t contain his own joy. He would learn in a few seconds to never underestimate someone because of their appearance.

With a bright smile on your lips you stand up and pick up Gaz bridal style. “Okay… that’s new”, Kyle isn’t quite sure how to feel about being carried like this. As if it wouldn’t be enough already you do a few rounds of squats.

The silence is deafening.

You keep doing your squats as Gaz holds onto your form for his dear life. He would never admit it but he feels quite safe and protected in your arms. The soldier starts to see you in a new light. Is that how a crush feels like?!

“Hold on, mate! Wait a second!”, Soap finds his tongue again throwing the empty bottle of beer away in the same second, “Now is my turn!” You put Gaz down and give Soap a chance to be carried bridal style.

“What the hell did they feed you back home?”, Ghost asks quite surprised, which is a rare sight. Grinning you shrug your shoulders doing more squats with Soap in your arms, “Nothing special. I’m just strong and love lifting things.”

“Steamin’ Jesus!”, Soap’s cheeks start to turn red. He has never been carried like that and it feels very good. “Get down, Johnny”, Ghost rolls his eyes playfully annoyed, “You are making a bloody fool out yourself.”

“Why did you keep this secret to yourself?”, Gaz can’t believe they all called you “Tiny” since your transfer into the team. “Just waited for the right moment, I guess”, you hold out your free arms for Ghost, who shakes his head slowly. “Can you carry us both at the same time?”, Soap exclaims excited and almost jumps into your arms again.

Captain Price walks down the hall to get himself a tea. He has been sitting hours at his desk doing tons of paperwork. Now he recalls that he didn’t hear a single word from his team for those said hours. Panic washes over him in an instant. Where were you all and what stupid shit have you done this time?!

“OH MY GOD! THIS IS INSANE!”, Price follows the loud voices he recognizes immediately down the hall but stops abruptly.

There you are all Soap wrapped up in one arm and Gaz in the other one. You carry them both doing squats without even breaking into a sweat. Ghost just raises his beer bottle cheering it at Price, “Hey, Captain! Nice evening, huh?”

Price looks at each of you a solid second with a shocked face, “What the bloody hell I am just witnessing?” Soap claps his hands still excited about your hidden talent, “Tiny is fucking strong, Captain!” Price just nods in agreement, “I can see that.”

“Seems like Tiny isn’t an appropriate call sign anymore”, Ghost summarizes the situation in one sentence. Price can’t still get over the fact you kept this promise for such a long time to yourself. He takes happily the beer that Ghost overs him.

“How much can you lift?”, the Captain can’t take his eyes off of you fascinated and horrified at the same time. You are still doing your squats with Soap and Gaz. You probably could outlift him at any time! He has respected to before but now he kind of worships you. Can’t he have a whole army of soldiers like you?

“Hmm… Around 700 pounds I think was the best I ever did. I can probably lift more but I never tested it out”, you say that like’s something absolutely normal to do. Price almost chokes on his beer as Ghost slides down in his chair. What have you done?

Soap and Gaz share an overly excited glance clapping their hands, “We have to test that out right away!” They wriggle themselves free from your grasp to run around in a search for heavy things to lift.

Ghost wouldn’t admit it but he is also impressed with your skills, “That’s going to be a long night.”

#cod imagine #cod x reader #cod mw2 #john price #john mactavish #simon riley #kyle garrick #friendship headcanons #cod hcs #task force 141 #mw2 x reader #mw headcanons #price x reader #soap x reader #ghost x reader #gaz x reader #gn reader #gender neutral reader

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olderthannetfic · 6 months

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You've encountered site changes over time as a fan elder, what do you make of Tumblr potentially being put out to pasture? Tumblr was my coming of age fan site, and im looking for advice to transition to the next thing with grace and less bitterness than I feel now.

Ahaha. God, you should have heard the howling about LJ. "Fandom is over!" "Never again shall we dwell in fandom's True Home!" etc.

Hell, this endless "only LJ was good" crap turns up in replies here on posts where I as OP have very clearly laid out why that's rose colored glasses nonsense and you can so make friends on tumblr, have a conversation on tumblr, etc.

I had my crabby phase about this during the transition from Yahoo Groups to LJ. A lot of the real olds had it over paper zines and the transition to the internet.

I don't know if reading these hilariously samey old posts would help. It does give perspective, I think.

As for what you should do, do what I did with Tumblr:

Look around to identify the Next Thing fandom is going to camp out on.

It may take a few guesses and some time to figure this out. You will likely not be an early adopter. Fandom was well established here by the time I joined at the end of 2010. Of course, by now, all those 2009 and before accounts are long gone, but at the time, I was a n00b joining other people's space despite having been in fandom for ages.

Don't expect to enjoy it

I didn't join tumblr because I liked it. In fact, I despised it. I kept right on despising it until a brief stint in Sherlock fandom, a fandom that was so active here at the time that I was able to finally see the good aspects of the site's structure and features.

This is the mistake a lot of people make. They give things a cursory try, don't enjoy them, and go "not for me", forgetting that the last site also had a steep learning curve that was either difficult or that they didn't notice because they were in a different phase of their life.

Bitterness and grief are, frankly, an inherent part of the process. You can try not to be a debbie downer in your public comments, but you can't just not feel those things during the awkward part of the transition. Sometimes, acting positive and cutting off excessively negative thoughts can make you feel less negative overall, but it doesn't happen immediately.

Accept that feeling cranky and old is both a you problem and a state of mind, not a property of the new site

Relatedly, the way we remember fandom platform X feeling usually has more to do with us being in college with fandom friends down the hall or having discovered Our People for the first time or some other time when we had a lot of energy and positive emotions. Often, we were in the throes of a first or new fandom love too, probably for some megafandom that other people also cared about at the same time.

When fandom is leaving some site, there's a grieving process anyway, but we're also often in a worse part of our lives for starting new things. We're busy. We're tired. We're between fandoms. We feel like we already paid our dues to build up our community. Why should we have to start again?

But let me tell you, you always need to start again eventually. I go to a weekly vidders' zoom chat, and a lot of the people in there are old as balls, including Kandy, the person who invented vidding back in the 70s. She's a lot of decades and a few cancers in, and she had to relearn how to vid on a computer after transitioning from slideshows to VCR vidding back in the day. If bad health, platform changes, and dead friends were going to stop her, she'd be long gone.

It's like sharks: you stop swimming, you die.

This isn't just about fandom, obviously. It's about avoiding a midlife crisis and, later, about avoiding feeling emotionally geriatric even when your body is falling apart.

Change gets us all, but being mentally old is a choice. The real reason I gave tumblr such a try was that I had been so resistant to getting on LJ. I was 20. Even a year later, it was fucking embarrassing to have been a crotchety old hag as a college student. I promised myself I'd soldier through the next change instead of dragging my feet about it. And it totally worked in the end! But boy did it not make the transition any less unpleasant emotionally!

Find your joy

As is obvious from the above, the vast majority of the problem is just emotions. Fandom has been on a million broken sites with shitty features. We go where the people are, regardless of whether it has the technological aspects we liked at the last place. The actual shape of that platform is largely irrelevant.

What does matter is whether we as an individual fan are still excited and happy about something. I was between fandoms recently and went looking around for BL series I hadn't watched yet. People kept suggesting things set in the present day with too-cheesy production values and too many banal schoolboys in modern day settings without even anything spicy going on. I realized that the BL/danmei scene wasn't really cutting it for me and I should go for production values and genre and non-canon ships. You probably scrolled annoyedly past the picspams that resulted.

(Of course, hilariously, someone has now shown me the trailer of Red Peafowl, so someone may be making BL that feels like it's for me after all. Look at all that badwrong and very dark color grading.)

When you're in a good place emotionally, it's a hell of a lot easier to weather any change, and when you have a new fandom, it's a lot easier to connect with other fans.

A lot of people wait around for lightning to strike twice. They found their first fandom by accident, and they expect it to happen seamlessly again. For me, it's far more productive to brute force it: collect up a big list of what's popular or what's new and go through it till you find things you might like, then try them all.

And part of this, obviously, is not waiting for other fans to make the party happen. The more you need to join something other people are already doing, the less choice you'll have in fandoms or in platforms. If you aren't picky and just go where the tropey longfic is, that can work, but even then, favorite authors disappear or go to fandoms you hate and former megafandoms dry up. If you're the one bringing the party, it's a lot easier to find a new fandom or platform or community to have fun in.

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steddie-island · 4 months

Text

First Responder

@steddieholidaydrabbles day 26 - "Who did this to you?" Rating: T | WC: 972 | CW: Blood, off-screen violence, possessive Tommy Hagan (also off-screen) Read the full list of tags on ao3

Steve had seen enough bad shit in his life to know that a trail of blood droplets was never a good thing. It was just luck that Robin had forgotten something and needed him to run back to the school and get it. Otherwise he wouldn’t have noticed the spray of blood outside of the bandroom, wouldn’t have been able to follow it down the hallway and towards the bathroom, where the droplets seemed to get fatter and almost puddle. “Christ,” he murmured as he tried to push the door open. Almost immediately, though, someone else was slamming against it on the other side, barring it closed from him. “Fuck off!” came a voice that Steve recognized, even if he couldn’t place. “Leave me the fuck alone, man!” Steve pressed a hand to the door. “Uh– hey. I just noticed the blood out here. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.” There was a moment of quiet hesitation, but then the person on the other side of the door was groaning softly. When Steve tried it again, the door pushed open easily. “Uh, hey– oh fuck.” Eddie Munson stood in front of the sink with a bloody nose and a split eyebrow over an eye already swelling and turning varying shades of purple. “Eddie, holy shit–” “I’m fine,” Eddie murmured. He spat blood into the sink, though, which really didn’t do much in his favor. “Just– get outta here, Harrington.” Steve shook his head and stepped closer. For once it was actually a relief that the water in the bathroom sinks never warmed up and ran stupidly cold when the temperature dropped outside. He wet a paper towel and held it out. “You want some help with that?” “No, man.” Eddie pushed his hair out of his face, revealing a nasty bruise up by his forehead, too. “Just go.”

“Eddie, c’mon.” Steve frowned and crowded into Eddie’s space, something that the other boy was usually the one doing. “Let me take a look and make sure you’re really okay. Please?” Eddie was tired, too fucking tired to argue, and he nodded before moving his hands away from his face. “It’s nothing, Harrington. Really. Just– ran into the wrong person at the wrong time. I’m used to it.” Steve winced as he dabbed at Eddie’s brow, which was still dripping blood down his face but did seem to at least be slowing down. “Who did this to you?” he asked softly.

“Does it matter?” Eddie closed his eyes, hissed as Steve’s touch made his head ache that much more. The cold towel did help, though, even if just a little. “Yeah. It does. It matters to me.” He got up to grab more paper towels for Eddie to hold them under his nose, to at least stop the blood from getting into his mouth. “Hold that there, I’ll be right back.” He disappeared, came back a minute later with a first aid kit in his hands.

Steve guided Eddie to lean against the sink and crowded that much closer, between the space of his legs. He was aware of Eddie’s eyes on him as he pulled out antiseptic and gauze. “I’m really sorry, this is gonna hurt,” he murmured.

Eddie didn’t hiss, though, barely winced, and that made Steve’s chest ache for him. “Who did this to you?” he whispered as he held the gauze to Eddie’s skin to help staunch the blood flow.

Those damn eyes, so dark and deep and wide, never left his face even as Steve pulled the butterfly bandages out of the first aid kit. He’d done this enough times that he settled into it almost mindlessly.

“Your old buddy Hagan.” Eddie’s hands gripped the sink as Steve smoothed the bandages into place. “We’ve never been friendly, but I… guess he saw us hanging out after Hellfire the other day, decided to make sure I knew to stay away from you.”

The breath caught in Steve’s throat. “Jesus, Eddie. Fuck, I’m– I’m sorry. I haven’t been friends with Hagan in–” “No, I know.” Eddie tossed the towels into the trash and accepted clean ones, and he used those to see if he was still bleeding from his nose, too. Everything seemed to have stopped, so he pushed away from the sink, away from Steve, and turned to wash the evidence off of his face. It was going to be hard enough seeing the worry on Wayne’s face when he got home. “Doesn’t change the fact that he’s still hung up on you.” “I’m not hung up on–” “Steve, I know.”

Steve watched him in the mirror, but Eddie was very pointedly not looking back at him as he scrubbed blood from his chin, his neck. It was all over the front of his Hellfire shirt but there was nothing that could be done about that just now.

“I’m sorry.” Steve shoved his hands into his pockets, to have something to do with them. “I forgot what a possessive dickhead he can be.” “Yeah. He seems to still think he has a claim on you.” Eddie finally looked up, but he still didn’t meet Steve’s gaze. He leaned in to inspect his eyebrow. “You do good work, Harrington.” “It was a butterfly bandage, there’s not much to it. And I, uh… guess I’m used to it, too.” Between Jonathan, and Tommy, and fucking Billy, he’d long learned to keep a first aid kit somewhere he could get to it quickly. Finally that searching gaze found his again in the mirror, and Eddie smiled a little. “Maybe that means we should stick together around here. United front and all that.” Steve flushed pink, because there were a couple of reasons that he didn’t hate the sound of the two of them spending more time together. “Yeah. Maybe we should.”

#Steddie holiday drabble #Steddie drabble #Steddie #Steddie fic #My writing #My fic

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bashfullove · 10 months

Text

❦Reactions To You Wanting To Draw Them❦

❦Summary: Their beautiful/handsome S/O wants to capture their beauty in pencil

❦Includes: Arthur, Sadie, Javier, Kieran

❦Warnings: none ❦Notes:I know it's very few characters but I tried to write as much as I could. If you want other characters feel free to request it

❦Arthur Morgan❦

"Wait seriously?" It's almost like he doesn't believe you when you ask for the consent to capture his pure bliss and beauty while he fishes. The boat you both sat in rocking very lightly like a mother rocking her newborn's cradle, the fishing rod is in his steady calloused hands while you pinch the pencil between your fingers, etching the features of his jawline on the paper. If Arthur had been so kind before to draw you, why couldn't you return the favour? Plus you never really cared for fishing all that much, you just liked being in the same space as Arthur, breathing the same air, and sharing the perfect silence with a unstressed breeze between you two. And maybe you treated this as an excuse to look at Arthur a little closer than you usually would, admire the finer details of his roughened face. The small scar on his cheek that you never truly figured out the origins of, the small strand of hair that without fault would always end up against his forehead, the bags on his eyes that if they were on anyone else that you wouldn't find too appealing but just because it's on Arthur, your Arthur, its one of those imperfections that turns perfect. His jaw is practically on the floor once you reveal the drawing to him, the details that you've captured in his face that he had only seen as flaws. He wasn't used to this, he was used to capturing the beauty around him, hiding the ugliness away from his drawings, the ugliness which he labelled as himself. Even with a beauty like you beside him he could never find himself all that appealing to look at, let alone put in the work in drawing. He felt flattered thought hat you would take the time to draw him, he knows he's returned the favour more than enough times. Enjoying to draw you when you're grooming your horse, singing at the campfire with Javier, looking so peaceful sleeping beside him, any chance he would take to capture your beauty. And Arthur wouldn't ever admit it, maybe he was too proud or didn't want to look too soft to the others but he would take the drawing you made of him everywhere. That little reminder that even when he thought he was the worst man alive that there was someone back at camp who saw him as perfect

❦Sadie Adler❦

"Draw me? Well if it makes you happy I guess?" She'll pretend that she doesn't care, that it means nothing when you approach her all shy, your leather back journal and pencil in your hands while she's dragging her gun oil soaked rag over her pistol's barrel. Her eyes glancing at you as if its some kind of joke but when she sees your serious, she just shrugs it off and keeps working. She comments that she isn't gonna just sit still for an hour while you draw, she's a busy woman who has work to get done and you understand that. Hoping to get her drawing done quick but with the details you keep getting glimpses of when you pull your vision from the paper to her face make you realise how much more work you'll have to do to get it perfect. But inside, what you don't see, is that Sadie really does care at the idea of her drawing, especially from you. She's always been a secret fan of your little hobby, it was nice to have something that brought you such comfort and calm, she really wished she had something like that before she met you but now she had you, even if she tried to look all tough, she was truly as lovesick as she used to be with her now deceased husband that she is with you. When your eyes aren't on her, she's fixing her hair or clothes, just making sure that you get the best details of her. She doesn't want to look like an outlaw, she wants to look like a normal woman even if she is far from that now. She wants to look normal for you, the contrast between you two was so obvious to her. She could shoot twelve men and not even miss a wink of sleep while you couldn't even shoot a squirrel when you went out hunting with her. She enjoyed your kind heart though, it made her not feel so monsterous for what she's done and all the people she's hurt. She's very patient truly when you need more time to finish, even if before she told you that she wasn't gonna sit still. She knows how much you took pride and patience in your work, she wanted to make sure that your needs were met. And it paid off because when she finally does see the drawing, her heart has swelled holding the leather back journal as she admires your work. She had truly forgotten what she had looked like when she wasn't covered in dirt and blood, the inner beauty of her that you captured physically on the drawing, she just loved you a little more.

❦Javier Escuella❦

"Are you interested in a more intimate portrait?" Don't get me wrong, he is very flattered that you want to sketch him but he has to tease, giving you that sly smirk on his lips while he leans against the tree, his guitar in his lap and you sitting across from him. He sits confidently, trying to get a peak at your work every now and again, making comments at you that almost distract you from your drawing with how much they make your heart flutter. He gives you ideas for the drawing, like how he could look good on his horse, or fighting Micah, anything that makes him look like your personal hero that you already know he is. When you sometimes look up at him, he sends you a quick wink, chuckled at your flustered cheeks and quick change of focus back onto your paper. As much as Javier is teasing and trying to distract you from the work, he has full intentions of sitting right under the tree in the scorching heat until your work would be done to perfection. If you were more than happy to sit with him while he lazily strummed on his guitar, he could be considerate enough to enjoy his time with you while you work on your own hobby. He isn't exactly patient so eventually he leaves his spot, scooting over to you as he rests his chin on your shoulder, looking at your work. His eyes are glued to your fingers which pinch your pencil and move in little scritch scratches on the finer details of his mustache. Careful to keep the strings of his guitar as straight as possible even if there's a little wonky bit every here and now. He thinks it's adorable how focused you are, your eyes glued to the sheet and your tongue sticking out of your mouth every now and again as you concentrate on the proper shading, rubbing your thumb against the paper to smudge the ink

❦Kieran Duffy❦

"I'm nothing special" It makes you frown to hear him say such a thing, turning his back to you when he continues on his chores, not wanting to be a burden to you. Not that he ever was, Kieran was the perfect medium between fantasy and realism. He was perfect to you, since the day you met him in Colter. Sneaking him food when everyone was asleep, on the coldest days when the wind blew harder with every second that burned your exposed skin but it had been worth it to see the small smile on his face when he knew at least there was someone who cared for him. Not many people had ever cared for him, his ma died young and his pa not long after her. He had been alone, every time he met one they would disappear or die around him. Possibly that's why it took so long for him to warm up to you, his fear that the next good thing in his life was gonna disappear. But you refused to take his no or fear for an answer, proving him time and time again that you didn't plan to go anywhere. Even if he would push and push you away, you held on like a tick on a dog, of course a bit more benefitial than a tick for a dog. And maybe it takes a little bit of forcing to get him to just sit down, relax and let you show him that he is a lot more perfect than he thinks so. He's stiff, constantly trying to find an excuse to escape your eyes on him as you concentrate on capturing his finer details. He's fixing his hat to hide his face until you rip the hat away from him, practically begging him to just let you do this and show him in your own eyes, your vision of how perfect the squirmy shy and anxious boy sitting under the tree with you truly is. Once you're finished he's so happy that he has something made by someone only for him, something that he is able to cherish. Even if he will still have his self esteem issues, he will always have his physical representation of the love from his little artist.

❦Thank You For Reading❦

❦Taglist:

❦Bashfullove❦

#red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #sadie adler #kieran duffy #javier escuella #arthur morgan x reader #sadie adler x reader #kieran duffy x reader #javier escuella x reader #rdr #rdr2 #rdr x reader #rdr2 x reader #bashfullove #bashfullove writing

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somnambulic-thing · 1 year

Text

art student!reader x life drawing model!Eddie Munson

E 18+, so nsfw Words: 7048 read on ao3

find the sequel here

Paint It Black Summery: You’re frustrated with your latest work and look for distraction by attending the open life drawing class on what looks like a very ordinary Thursday. Eddie, the new model, is everything but ordinary but definitely a distraction.

CW/tags: characters somewhere in their twenties, meet-wild, smut, fluff, some sort of voyeurism/public erection, gets a little rough, unprotected sex, piv penetration, oral for everybody, v fingering, biting, love marks, talky sex, aftercare, art school bullshit, messy sex, artsy sex (I guess), love at first sight (I guess)

A/N: @edsforehead made me do it. (thank you so much)

comments and reblogs are so appreciated

The air is cold, stinging your cheeks as you ride your bike through a clear and crisp winter morning. It does wonders for waking you up and clearing your mind; you had spent way too long in your studio last night, hovering over this painting that just wouldn’t go the way you wanted. Inside your mind, you hoisted it off the wall to place it right in the middle of the room, a bucket of thick black paint in one hand, the other one dipping in until the medium reached your wrist. You drop down to your knees and get to work, blacking the wretched thing out one large swoop of your arm after another, sending hours of work into oblivion.

Oh my, it was so tempting. Your fingertips tickle with the urge to turn your frustration into something wild and rough and… simple.

But your Professor had sworn to make your life very hard if he ever got wind of you destroying one of your works again, so you followed the advice he had given you: You had decided to take a break. Do something different, something simple, something rewarding and easy to clear your mind to recharge your drained batteries.

So it is Thursday and you crawled out of bed after four measly hours of sleep to go to the life drawing class. You are early as always to get one of the good spots. The small auditorium is still empty except for your teacher who is busy untangling the cords of the various space heaters that will keep the model warm for the next hours.

“Ah,” he says as he sees you, “haven’t seen you here in a while.”

“Yeah, been busy wasting paint.” You smile and walk down the steps of the middle aisle and drop your bag on the best chair: first platform, second chair on the right from the aisle. It had the perfect distance and angle and the top of the backrest of first row to put your feet on so you could rest your paper on your thighs and wouldn’t have to struggle through two hours and a half hours of numb feet.

“Good decision to waste some graphite instead today,” your teacher says and grins. “I’m excited to see your progress.”

You hum, unpacking your supplies. “Who’s the model today? Someone familiar?”

“No, actually, I finally could recruit someone new. He should already be here though. Maybe he has difficulties finding us.” The building was old and could be confusing if you never set foot in it before.

“He,” you say, sharpening your pencil. “Guess it’s my lucky day.”

Male models were rare - maybe two out of ten sessions - and you start to get excited about coming in today.

Your teacher climbs up the stairs past you, “I’ll go and see if he’s wandering around somewhere.”

—

The room fills with students; you say your How are you?’s and What are you working on?’s and when the clock shows 9:37, you brace yourself for the session getting cancelled. Just then, the door opens and your teacher hurries down the stairs.

“Good morning everybody. Sorry for the delay, our model got lost in our hallways. Let’s hear: anybody working on something particular and has some requests for poses?”

You crane your neck up to the back of the room towards the overflowing coat rack while your teacher keeps going through the usual procedure.

The model’s back is turned and you see a long black coat being shrugged off of lean shoulders and underneath: more black. Black lines of ink meandering out of the sleeves of a black shirt; a harsh contrast against pale skin. Ringed hands come up to the back of his head to put the long dark wavy hair into a bun.

No! you plead internally, surprised by that strong reaction.

He chooses the far left aisle down, almost disappearing behind the rows of students but your eyes follow him with a burning curiosity as if you wouldn’t get the chance to look at him for hours in a moment. You shake your head and open your sketchbook to do just anything but stare. There was a difference between observing and staring and the latter wasn’t fucking appropriate inside this room.

“Everybody,” your teacher announces, “this is Eddie. Eddie has never done this before so be patient and just let him know if he’s moving too much.”

You look up and grind your teeth. This Eddie is fucking gorgeous.

“Uhm, hi!” he smiles into the room then looks back at your teacher. “So, uh, I just get naked or what?”

Everybody laughs, but you don’t. You’re taking a long slow breath.

“That’s the general idea,” your teacher grins. “You can put your things on that table in the corner and then just come back to this spot.”

But Eddie does not move to the mentioned corner, he simply pulls off his shirt and throws it the distance to the table. More tattoos come to light; all black, no color. He then kicks off his shoes and you watch his fingers as they open his belt and his fly, how they lodge into the hem of his black, frayed jeans and pull them down in one swoop. There are giggles as he throws the bundle, aiming at the table like he’s at the bowling alley, completely naked.

And then you realize, Eddie didn’t wear any underwear.

“The rings too, please.”

“Oh, sure.” He picks them off his fingers; one two three from one hand and one more from the other. Eddie looks at them on his palm for a moment and grins. “Nah, not gonna throw those.”

The class giggles again as Eddie takes two three long strides to the table to put his rings down carefully and prances back, taking his spot in the middle of the small platform surrounded by space heaters.

There is a soft crack coming from your lap and you look down to see that you had pushed your pencil to the paper so hard that you’d broken the tip.

—

It’s as always: a series of short poses to warm up. One minute, then three and up from there.

Except it is not like always. You're flustered, you’re hot and you spend way too long staring, not finishing any of the one-minute poses.

This has never happened to you before and you had been presented with a lot of good-looking people over the years but this guy was something else.

Three-minute poses and Eddie is slouched back in a chair, long legs spread, left arm resting on top of his head, the right one on his thigh. This was sinful. You just corrected the angle of his left thigh for the third time when you look up and find him looking right back at you. No lost glance into the distance over your shoulder, no: your eyes meet. And those eyes are big and dark and curious and he holds the gaze for several seconds before the timer beeps and announces the change of poses.

He’s not only beautiful and scorching hot but also incredibly adorable. He’s giddy between poses, shaking his arms and legs - and with that his cute little ass - bouncing on his toes and you start to think that holding still normally isn’t his forte. When he lies on his belly, soft gaze on the floor, he tries to stifle a yawn once, twice and only lets it out when he’s allowed to move again. You like his dedication.

Five-minute poses and you finally get into the flow; things start to make sense on the paper until you find him looking at you again. And not only that: he mouthes a small 'Hi'. You bite your lip and look down, feeling the looks of some of the students on you.

He’s cross-legged, leaning back, hands braced on the ground behind him. The angle is weird and it doesn’t help that the way his lean, inked chest moves every time he takes a breath makes you want to bite down on those sharp collarbones. You hold your sketchpad in your outstretched arms doing those quick back-and-forth glances to find out where to correct the mess when his eyes move back to you. Every time you meet his gaze makes your spine tingle more and more and you have to bite down on your lip again to not let a fucking noise slip from your mouth.

Ten-minute poses and your teacher has made it to you to give you some feedback. Nothing you hadn’t expected: you go about it too complicated, want to do too much in too little time, too much detail. Eddie is stretched out on his back and smirks towards the ceiling.

On the next round of feedback, he tells you to really look at Eddie’s hips. You get the angle wrong, it throws off the stance, and you know why all your stupid drawings look a little wonky: you try to avoid looking at his cock for too long. You never thought about a penis as a cock before in this class and it drives you up the walls seeing it twitch slightly while your teacher keeps explaining things you already know and you’re forced to stare at Eddie's crotch, knowing he's side-eying you and your flustered expression the whole. Damn. Time.

Eddie gets a brief pause to stretch and have some water and you want revenge. While his back is turned to you - shoulder blades rippling deliciously under his skin - you open the top two buttons of your blouse, sliding the collar off your shoulder.

One final five-minute pose before the session ends with a twenty-fiver and Eddie is crouched down with his knees pulled under his chin. He shuffles a little before he really settles, tilting his head slightly in a way that forces him to look in your direction unless he wants to lower his eyes to the floor for five minutes.

When he finally looks up, you’re waiting for him, head titled yourself exposing the side of your neck down to your shoulder where your bra strap is barely holding onto your skin.

Eddie’s eyes widen and you smile, tongue poking out just a little to lick your bottom lip before you focus on the paper in your lap to roughly map out the pose. You don’t linger on him while you draw, quick glances only, but you can feel his gaze heavy on you.

This sketch is turning out to be the best so far. You lean back a little, biting down on the back of your pencil and start rolling your shoulders. One gets stiff sitting like that for so long, so people stretch all the time and nobody will notice that you’re giving Eddie a little show. You tilt your head to the right and run a hand over the muscles in your neck, massaging the achy spot right beyond your skull for a moment. When you give in to look down at him, you do it from under your lashes, taking the pencil stuck in your mouth between two fingers and let your tongue play with it ever so slightly.

Eddie takes a deep breath; you can see it in the way his shoulders rise and his knees are pressed forward. You grin and he pulls up his brows and you can’t tell if he begs you to stop or go on.

Twenty-five-minute pose and the crowd demands him to stand.

“Twenty-five minutes of standing is ok?” your teacher asks Eddie, who hasn’t jumped up like a spring toy after the timer rang.

“Uhm, yeah,” he says, legs still drawn to his torso. “Sure thing, uh-hn.”

It takes him another beat to push himself up and come to a stand. Your eyes wander from the top of his cheeks, tinted in a pretty pink, down to those hips to find him not exactly half hard, but on a good way to it. You feel your eyes roll up.

Shit.

Your teacher instructs him how to stand, feet wider apart - a little more, perfect - arms crossed over his chest which too is now slightly pink. His biceps’ flex a few times as he waits for more instructions.

“Can you turn a little, to the left?” a guy in the top row asks and Eddie does.

“Like this?”

Like this you get him in a three-quarter-view and your heart is racing; will he look at you again or did you push it too far?

“Anything else?” your teacher asks and you want to bite down on your tongue but instead it’s moving and forming words.

“Can we have the hair down for this last one?”

Eddie’s head snaps up, catching you in the middle of your request. He pinches his eyes shut at the approval of your fellow students. Below the waist, he’s twitching again.

Loosening his hair tie, Eddie musses around in his dark waves with practised fingers until he seems satisfied with what he sees in the mirror across the room. You suppress a moan, breaking the tip of your pencil again. He’s not looking at you, this time choosing to turn down his eyes while his face points in your general direction again. You curse at yourself internally; you should have just gone to him after the session and slipped him your number or asked him if he was busy after this while the both of you were still flooded with whatever this was and—

Shit!

Whatever Eddie is thinking while not looking at you did not help with what was going on in his loins. That pretty cock was getting bigger: half-hard-hello! And judging by his current state, he was big. You involuntarily grind your hips on your chair and drop your pencil in the process. A groan escapes you, sounding much too pleasant for a case of dropped art supplies and you bend down to get it back. When you come up, brown eyes are waiting for you. There is a smile playing around them while his pretty pink lips are slightly pressed together. Thank god he doesn’t look mad or annoyed, only the blush giving away that something was going on.

You can’t help it, you’re biting your lip, eyes wandering between his face and his cock and his brows draw slightly together before he averts his eyes again, breathing a few times: deep and slow.

Deep and slow.

Holy shit you are throbbing and wet and all you can do is fake another stretch and while shuffling around, press your thighs together for a little bit of friction. You tilt your hips down slightly and the sensation is so good and welcome that your eyes pinch close and your back arches. The movement is jerkily and you stretch your arms over your head to conceal it, slowly opening your eyes again.

Eddie is watching. Eddie is hard.

You grab your pencil and start drawing the spectacle in front of you; concentration isn’t the right word for the sharp focus that settles over you. It’s fucking lust.

It’s not the first hard-on you’ve seen in this class, not by any means. It happens now and then and usually a slight blush from the model was the only reaction. But this wasn’t any hard dick: you did this. You did this to this gorgeous man and you wanted to capture this with your own hands. In case he just bolted right after the session, you would have something to remember this.

You’re leaning in, literally, sketch pad balancing on your knees and bent over your thighs you almost forget the additional loosened buttons on your blouse until you catch those eyes directed at your chest. Seems like Eddie figured the damage was done anyway so why hold back now?

And fucking hell was that precum glistening at the tip?

This is when the timer starts announcing the end of class.

Eddie shoots you one final look, a sharp grin, a slight shake of the head, tips of his hair tickling his shoulders and hops off his little platform to get dressed.

“Holy shit,” says the guy next to you, leaning over. “Have you seen that dick?”

You huff a laugh that throbs in your pussy. “Hard to overlook.”

“Exactly,” he groans and picks up his things.

—

You look at drawings of Eddie of all kinds. They are all beautiful, even the bad ones. You rub your forehead catching that corny thought and look across the room where Eddie is talking to two people, gesturing to the drawings on the floor, laughing. The two of you are slowly moving towards each other. The journey consists of looking, talking: This is a good one! and That one is crap, right? and glancing to your right. You reach the row with your own stuff, groaning internally at how very off everything looks, everything but two.

Suddenly, a chest presses to your back and an arm sneaks past you to point at a drawing.

“That’s amazing.”

The explosion in your insides barely travels to your voice and you’re impressed with yourself. He even smells amazing. “Thank you.”

“Oh, that’s one of yours then?”

You turn to face him. The smile on his face is obscene.

“Hi.”

“Hi, Eddie.”

The smile shrinks a little and his nostrils flare with the air he pulls in. His voice is low and deep when he speaks. “You… uh, made that a very hard job to do.”

“I’m almost sorry,” you croon. His face is way too close; one uptilt of your head and you could bite his plush bottom lip.

“Don’t be,” he licks the spot you just imagined nibbling on. “I didn’t start it for nothing.”

You both jump when someone hijacks your moment. “Those detailed studies are really nice.”

“Yeah, right?” Eddie says with genuine enthusiasm. “Almost the only ones who got some of my tattoos…”

“Uhg, tattoos are hard in that short time, man and you know, not really anatomy.”

The exchange goes back and forth a little longer until Eddie loops his arm under yours and not so causally pulls you in the direction you’d come from under the disguise of looking at sketches.

“So, uh, what are you doing, like, right after this?”

“You, I hope.”

“Shit…” he shakes his head, hair falling into his face. “You’re killing me already… where do you want to go?”

You think about this for a moment, greedy and soaking through your panties you’re in no mood to wait much longer to have him naked again.

“I have a studio two corridors down…”

His brows shoot up. “You ahm…” he blurts out, then lowers his voice, “want to do me here at school?”

“Yes, Eddie… like the pretty little muse you are.”

—

His hand is warm in yours as you pull him along behind you through the hallway past your fellow students who throw curious glances over their shoulders.

Eddie catches up to your side and leans close to your ear, “Are you already wet for me? The way you moved on that chair…”

“Drenched,” you breathe against his neck and almost stumble over your own feet. Eddie sneaks his arm around you, keeping you steady.

“Easy, sweetheart. Let me be the one to bruise you, ok? I’ll do it in aaall the nice places.”

You stare at him, mouth hanging open.

“Promise,” he adds, tapping the tip of your nose, a devilish smile spreading on his face.

You drag him on and he laughs behind you until he catches up again. There is a brief moment where you leave him in the middle of the empty foyer to get your key from the doorman, interrupting his lunch break, praying to whoever deity will listen to your horny call that none of your studio mates is in there already. You almost moan when the guy hands the key to you and you bump into Eddie’s chest face first when you turn around in a hurry.

“Fuck you’re so pretty,” he rasps, takes your face in his large hands and bends down to press a hot kiss to your mouth. Your fists close around the lapel of his coat as he licks along your teeth until your tongue finds him. The world around you feels vague and unimportant until the doorman behind you knocks against the glass of his booth.

“I don’t need to see this, folks.”

This time Eddie takes your hand and walks on. “Show me the way, babe, or I’ll have to hoist you up one of those windowsills… you people are doing performance art here, right?”

Eddie is mumbling filthy things at you the whole way down the empty corridor where your shared studio is the last room on the left. You try to fumble the key into the lock and drop it because Eddie is already busy bruising your neck. Pressed flat to your back he brushed your hair to the side and started sucking at the spot just below your ear, his hands sneaking around you, cupping your tits through your blouse. As you bend down to pick up the key, Eddie grabs your hips and rolls his own against you, almost pushing you into the door. You both laugh and he pulls you up by your waist.

“Sorry,” he chuckles as you finally unlock the door. “I couldn’t help myself.”

You let him inside and lock the door behind you.

“What’s your workspace?” he asks, already poking his nose into things. “No! Don’t tell me… it’s… this one.”

“How did you know?” you ask surprised, taking off your coat and fully unbuttoning your blouse while he looks at your work lined up on the wall, hand on his chin like a proper little art critic.

“Well, I saw your drawings and this stuff here… it has the same… Duktus?”

“Christ,” you moan and he looks at you. “That was so sexy.”

“Hey, you’re starting without me?”

Eddie rushes to you, hands instantly sliding inside your open blouse against your bare skin. His hands are rough, calloused in some places and the slight scratch is making you shiver in his arms. He pulls the fabric off of you and drops it to the ground. His coat falls next, then his shirt. Eddie hisses as you sink your teeth into his collarbone as soon as you have access to them.

“Too much?”

His eyes are lidded and so very dark as he shakes his head. “Just start pulling my hair too and you’ll never get rid of me again…”

“That a threat or another promise?” you purr as you open his belt and fly over the impressive bulge in his pants.

“Which one turns you on more?” You hook your fingers into his waistband and drop to your knees, pulling his pants down with you, making his breath hitch. “Oh, s-shit…”

This is the close-up you've been yearning for all morning. Fully hard and flushed a deep pink already; you wonder if it will feel as heavy on your tongue as it looks. You run a finger along the underside and it twitches again, bobbing up and down in front of your face. You lean in, stick out your tongue and give the swollen tip a lick that makes Eddie whimper above you.

Again you meet his eyes and the expression in them is so unexpectedly soft that you almost whimper too. Your cunt is clenching around horrible nothingness as you lick him again, flat tongue sliding along the underside, feeling a vein, tasting salt, watching those big brown eyes roll up and close as a moan escapes him.

“You’re gorgeous, holy shit.” You firmly grip his cock around the base and stroke him a few times, your mouth watering, before you close your lips around the tip, your tongue swirling in lazy circles around it. Eddie’s breath is uneven and laced with soft moans from his glistening parted lips while you softly play around with his cock. Every twitch of his face is a delight, the way his abdomen tenses when you press small kisses to the length of his shaft makes you swoon with adoration. You reach up one hand to trace up the lines of a tattoo on his ribcage and he catches it, pressing it flat against his chest. Eddie’s heartbeat pounds against your palm and you moan around his cock.

“Holy… fuck… I wanna watch you so bad but I don’t know if I can take it.”

“You can take it, big boy,” you say in a low voice. “Look at me.”

It takes him a few more seconds until he opens his eyes and looks down at you; the moment you lock eyes you take him down as far as you can. A string of loud but mostly intangible curses echoes through the large room as you suck him down again and again in long leisurely motions. Your lips stretched around his girth curl up into a smile when his hands look for something to hold onto in your hair and you place your index finger at the corner of your mouth without stopping your onslaught to signal him to keep the volume down.

“Sorry, ah fuck fuck FUCK… I’ll try… shit I’m balls deep in your mouth and still don’t know your name—”

You don’t want to stop, not even for the moment to tell him your name. There’s a big portfolio folder leaning against the wall and you point in the general direction before running your fingers through the dark curls around his base and up the trail to his stomach while he’s trying to figure out what you’re showing him, failing at his attempt to stay quiet.

Then he says it: your name, no, he moans it. And he doesn’t fucking stop.

Suddenly your abdomen is on fire and you have to pull back to catch your breath. But you can’t, not really, because Eddie has kicked off his pants the rest of the way, dropped to the floor and pushed you to your back to peel you out of your clothes.

The floor is cold under your ass and back and you thump your head a little as he wraps his arms around your thighs and pulls you closer to him.

“Shit, you okay?”

“Yeah,” you giggle, “keep manhandling me.”

Eddie grins like the devil himself and goes to work. He’s everywhere: kissing, lapping biting at your mouth, your jaw your neck your tits, his fingers pushed into your thighs and you know it will bruise. He’s keeping his promise, leaving wet tingling marks all over you, a purple trail of small galaxies. His fingers find your cunt, finally, and Eddie eats the moan out of your mouth.

“Shh,” he says with a cocky laugh, his forehead pressed to yours, two fingers circling your clit in dragging motions. “You’re loud, beautiful. You don’t want us to get caught before I had a chance to fuck you.”

“N-no… ahhh.” Two thick fingers slide into you and your muscles grip down hard at the sudden intrusion.

“Hi,” he grins down at you as if he wasn’t just pounding your g-spot out of nowhere and making you see stars.

You hold on to his face, grappling for purchase and finally wind your fingers into this wild tickling hair and pull.

“Jesus, finally!”

“I— I’m so close.”

“Keep holding on,” he groans and moves down your body, fingers stilling for a moment.

You keep your hands in his hair, pulling in frustration from the ebbing pleasure.

“Of course, you have the prettiest fucking pussy, you—“ he doesn’t finish his thought, diving in with his tongue to lap at your clit like he’d been starving for you his whole life.

You bite the back of your hand to keep from yelling out at the sight alone. His eyes meet yours, of course they do and he sucks one of your lips into his mouth.

“You’re a fucking tease, Eddie… what’s your last name?”

“Munson,” he mumbles against your core and keeps on feasting.

“You’re a fucking tease, Eddie Munson… ahhh don’t stop please.”

And he doesn’t. He gives you his fingers and his mouth, his eyes fixed on you— well, most of the time, he keeps looking to a spot behind you but you have no time to inquire as your legs start to tremble and everything inside you starts to tense and pulse and you’re coming apart under his mouth before you’ve really seen it coming.

Yeah, that guy was something else.

When you’ve come down he gently pulls his fingers from you and litters your thighs and belly with kisses. His fingers are sticky against your skin but a slight roughness remains.

Your head lolls against the floor while you’re still blissed out and Eddie still puts those feathery kisses to your skin.

“You… you’re a musician…” you drawl out.

He looks up. “Yeah! How do you know?”

You take his hand from your chest and lick your wetness from his fingers before you turn his palm to him, sliding a fingertip over the calloused skin.

“You like that?” he grins.

You let go of his hand and nod. “Something with strings?”

“Guitar. And vocals.”

“Fuck you, you’re way too hot as it is…” you squeeze him with your thighs and his eyes go to that spot behind you again before he kisses your chest.

“What do you keep looking at?” you wiggle and crane your neck. It’s that painting. The one that has been haunting you for weeks.

“Sorry,” he scrunches up his nose. “I don’t know, draws me in somehow… it’s… weird… sorry.”

“No, no, don’t be…” you say and pull him up to you, kissing him. “You’re right.”

“Yeah?” he glances over again. “Well, fuck… yeah… m’ not gonna lie to you it’s kinda terrifying.” You both laugh. The warmth in your chest only expands more.

“Want to slather me in paint and fuck me against it?”

Eddie’s eyes widen as he glances between your face and the canvas. “Yes? Fuck yes!”

He pulls you up and into a hungry kiss, his thick cock hard against your belly.

“Is that stuff safe to use?” he points his chin to some paint tubes on the trolley in the corner.

“No, oh god, no. But…” you leave him to look for a large bottle of black paint letting out a triumphant ha when you find it. You turn around beaming. “This here is… and will wash out of hair with no problem.”

“Come here…” he curls his finger to beckon you to him. “And hand that over.”

“Is that turning you on?” you ask as you join him.

“You have no idea.” Eddie takes the paint from you and wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling your back to his chest. “You’re so pretty already with all my marks on you.” He walks you over to the canvas that way, his lips pressed close to your ear.

You turn in his arm and reach for his cock, stroking him softly. “How do you want me?”

“Fuck if I know… gimme a second and don’t stop that.” He looks at the canvas, really thinking about this. You suddenly want to pull his hair again. “Hands above your head, babe,” he says, opening the bottle of paint and squirts a generous amount into his hand. “Keep them clean. You have to put me inside you.”

You lean against the canvas; it’s large, so large that your outstretched arms above your head just graze the wooden frame inside.

Eddie’s hands are dripping black paint as he grabs your hips, bends down and sucks your nipple into his mouth before he kisses up to the crook of your shoulder to suck on you once more. “One last one before I make a mess out of you.” The contrast between the warmth of his lips and the cool paint as he slides his hands up your sides to your ribs makes you squirm and whimper. Eddie steps back to look at his work.

“Fuck, I’m an artist.”

He grabs the bottle from the floor and gets more paint, letting it drip right to your tits before smudging with splayed fingers. You watch him, mesmerized. When he is satisfied, he spins you around and pats your thigh as a sign to widen your stance. You feel him shuffle behind you as he presses himself against you and your chest against the canvas.

“Ready?”

You reach down, fumbling in the air for a moment before you find him. “You ready?”

“Ye—ahhhh, you little minx,” he groans as you line him up and push back on him half the way. He holds you steady and slides in the rest of the way breathing out a long low fuuuuck. Then he stills. “Are you holding your breath? You ok?”

You are more than ok and you let the air out, your forehead dropping against the canvas. “It was that or letting everybody in the building know I’m getting stretched real fucking good right now…”

He angles your hips back and pushes closer. “Yeah, you are… shit, you’re unreal.”

“And you’re big. Gimme a moment.”

“All the time you want, I’m cosy here.”

While you get used to the stretch, Eddie caresses your back, rubbing small circles up the sides of your spine.

“I have a show next Tuesday,” he says kissing your shoulder. “Would love to see you in the first row.”

“Wouldn’t miss it… I assume it’s something hard?” you wiggle your ass, making you both sigh.

“You like it hard?” he laughs. “Music, I mean.”

“I do.”

“’Course you do. Can I fuck you now? Please?”

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Before the paint dries.”

He starts slow, pulling out almost all the way and sliding back in till he bottoms out. Your front slides against the canvas blackening out parts of it in big splotches.

“How’s this?” He’s so careful it makes your throat feel tight.

“You feel in-incredible.” You push back, meeting his thrusts as he picks up the pace.

“You’re incredible, sweetheart.”

Then you’re just getting lost in each other. His movements get rougher, more confident as he thrusts into you. You feel him deep inside you lighting little fires everywhere. A hand presses to the canvas next to your head, an arm loops around your waist and you yelp as he sharply slams into you. You beg him to do it again but he’s already on it, relentlessly fucking you into the canvas. Most of the paint is dry now, it’s prickling on your skin. Eddie moans your name into your ear, squeezing your tits and you squeeze your muscles around his cock.

“Shhh, babe…” you chuckle after he cries out.

“Fuck you,” he laughs hoarsely into your hair.

You’re so close again and you slip your hand between your legs but Eddie stops and pulls your arm to your back. “No nono, shit, not-not like that…”

“Eddie…”

“Stay like that,” he says and pulls out of you, leaving you empty and confused. There is some shuffling and then he is back behind you. “Going to be cold.”

“What— uhn!”

Paint trickles onto your arched back, sliding down your spine and making you shiver. Eddie gives your ass a little smack and turns you around, crowding you against the canvas, and hoists you up by your thighs.

“Oh my god,” you huff, wrapping your arms around his neck while he balances you out.

“Can’t do that all day but you’re close ‘n I wanna see that face when you come.” He leans you back to create some space between you. “Help me out, put me back inside you…”

You do as you’re told and you clench your thighs hard around his hips as he starts up almost at the same pace he stopped. He kisses you, so sloppy so wet you feel a string of spit between your mouths when he pulls back again to hook his arms under your knees and spreads you open so wide that you’re crying out his name.

“I got you,” he assures you, pounding into you at a new angle, so deep it makes you dizzy. “I got you, you can juuust fall apart…”

The noises you two are making where you’re joined are obscene.

“Holy shit,” you moan, “li-listen… those sounds.”

Eddie drops his head to your shoulder, sweat dripping from his forehead onto you. “Like fucking music…”

You laugh. “Fucking music indeed.”

“God, you’re perfect,” he presses out through a laugh and really leans into you. You grab a thick strand of hair and pull as your insides begin to tense.

“Oh… oh shit, don’t stop.”

The world tilts as he leans you back again. “Wouldn’t dare… touch yourself for me, I need to feel you come around me.”

“Come inside me, yeah?” you rasp as you circle your swollen throbbing clit.

His eyes bore into yours, the strain and pleasure all over his face. He’s a mess as much as you are. “Come on, darling… come for me… I want you to run through my fingers.”

And you swear you do: your head thumps against the wood frame as your muscles try to create a black hole or whatever happens under so much pressure, but who cares when this stupidly perfect man fucks you through the hardest orgasm anyone ever had while looking at you like he was fulfilling his fucking destiny. You can’t hear him over the blood rushing through your ears, but he looks so pretty with his nose scrunched up, a streak of black paint running over the bridge and his eyes shut tight. A few more thrusts and he collapses against your chest with stuttering hips, pinning you so hard against the wall that it drives the air out of you.

There is only breathing, hot air from his lungs against your tickling skin. You cup the back of his head and stroke his hair; he nuzzles deeper into your skin and makes a noise that sounds like fucking home.

“I need to put you down now… sorry.”

He puts you down but doesn’t let go. Kisses cover your face until you cup his cheeks and claim his mouth while he’s dripping down the inside of your thighs.

Then you giggle together, Eddie squeezing your ass with both hands, smiling at you so silly and soft. You’re thirsty, you let him have the bottle first and he gulps the water down, spilling down his chest, creating little rivers of paint that let the ink show through. You want to study those lines up close without twenty people around you, without the blinding fire of lust, but calm, taking your time asking questions.

“What’s going on up there?” he asks, tapping a finger against your forehead.

“I wanna study you some more,” you say, taking the bottle and down what’s left.

He doesn’t ask you what you mean, only tilts his head and smiles. Then he sits down in that worn-out armchair your mate had dragged in a few months ago, still naked, it isn’t time to cover up yet and you find a clean enough rag, climb into his lap and clean the paint off his face as gently as you can.

“Stop,” he grabs your hips, “do you have a camera or something?”

You do and the timer takes too long for you two not to start fooling around before the soft click of the shutter sounds. One more and one more and the film has only two more left and he pulls you in to kiss you just before the camera rewinds.

“You want to join me when I make the prints?”

“You, red light and chemicals?” he grins. “It’s a date.”

The painting is dry already; Guache dries rather fast, you explain to him. It’s itchy, he adds and scratches his chest, small flakes of black falling down to the floor. You sit in front of both your work, your head against his shoulder and your fingers fumbling with a strand of his hair that is stiff with paint.

“You know,” he says, “it would have made a damn good record cover before…”

“You can have a picture… I document every night before I go home.”

“Really? I mean, the picture?”

You brush sweaty hair off his forehead, “I’m sure it’s in good hands with you.”

He almost shoves you over when he kisses you, the giddy streak you saw earlier during class showing when he chuckles and licks your cheek like a puppy.

“It looks really good now though, don’t you think?”

“You’re just horny,” you laugh.

“What? You don’t like our work?” he pouts and this shouldn’t pull at your heart that much.

“I do,” you kiss the pout, “I was just teasing.”

“I mean it,” he looks at the canvas, “It’s a bit crooked and dented now, but that just adds to the charm.”

“It has nothing on you though when it comes to charm.” You lean in with a sultry smile and his palm cups your breast and then—

A knock on the door. “Come on, you still fucking in there? I need to work.”

You look at each other with large eyes and break out laughing, scrambling for your clothes. Eddie hisses sharply when you slap his ass just before he pulls up his jeans and you forgo the bra because one strap did not survive Eddie’s enthusiasm. There is paint sticking out of his collar that you couldn’t clean before your photo shoot and you remember to put the film in your pocket while he kisses your temple because he seems to can’t help himself but stay close to you.

“Ready?” you ask and he grabs your hand and nods, following you out.

“Finally,” your mate says, but smiles when she sees you. “Aren’t you that new model?”

“Muse,” he grins without further explanation.

You hand her the key, mouth a small sorry and admit it when she calls you out on your lie.

His hand is warm in yours, his thumb playing with your knuckles as you walk back through the hallway.

“So,” he says, “we gonna shower at your or my place?”

#Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson x afab!reader #Eddie Munson smut #somnambulic-thing #my fic

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lily-fics-11 · 2 months

Text

The Girl Next Door: Chapter 1 (Hazel Callahan)

The Girl Next Door

Fic master post here (feel free to comment to be added to tag list)

You hadn’t been close with your neighbor Hazel for a few years. But you find her beat up in the locker room after fight club and all of that changes.

Chapter 1

You reunite with Hazel and clean her up after fight club

CW: mentions of blood and injury, allusions to violence, cursing, not beta read

You make your way to the locker room after staying behind at school to work on a group project. You forgot your hoodie in your gym locker, so you are grabbing it quickly before heading home.

While you are at your locker you hear the door open and close. Someone else has entered the locker room, but you don’t think anything of it.

As you go to leave you walk past the bathroom and you see someone standing in front of one of the sinks. She is facing the other way but you can see her reflection in the mirror. You notice that there is blood on her face and dripping down her shirt, paired with a swollen eye. You are obviously concerned and stop to take a closer look. Upon further inspection you realize that it is your neighbor.

“Hazel?” You call as you approach her. She sees you in the mirror and turns around. Why does she look amused?

“Hey!” She greets you like the circumstances are normal.

“What the hell happened to you?” This wasn’t the best school, but you would never have thought someone would get attacked like this.

“Oh this?” She looks down at her bloody shirt and shrugs. “I was just in fight club.”

“Who are you? Brad Pitt?” You are a little angry, what the hell is fight club and how did someone sweet and innocent like Hazel end up in it? You can’t help but feel bad for thinking that she looks kind of hot like this.

“No, no, of course not. Some of my friends have started a self defense club, we call it fight club because we learn to defend ourselves by fighting eachother.”

You sigh and decide to save your questions for later and give in to your instinct to take care of her.

“Why don’t we get you cleaned up?” You suggest to her.

She shifts uncomfortably and scratches the back of her head. She avoids eye contact by looking at the floor.

“You don’t have to do that. I’m fine, really,” she protests.

“I can’t just leave you here like this. I know we aren’t close anymore but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you.” You mean every word. Hazel started to distance herself from you towards the end of middle school. You never knew why. You settled in with the popular crowd and Hazel settled in to her own niche. But it hurt you so badly and came right as you realized you had feelings for her. You have pushed those feelings down over the years, you’ve even had a girlfriend. But seeing Hazel like this, your old feelings are bubbling up to the surface.

Her eyes just widen, surprised, as if you had been the one to push her away. She tries to hide it, but a smile starts to creep across her face. “I guess I could use some help cleaning up. It doesn’t usually get so messy, I swear.”

“Oh believe me, I’m going to need to hear more about this fight club. But right now we need to do something about all of this blood,” your voice is tender, you are not sure exactly what she’s been through today and you want to be delicate.

You put your things down and grab a paper towel. You wet it and get closer to Hazel. As you reach towards her face she takes a sharp breath in. You aren’t sure why though, you haven’t even touched her yet.

“I promise I’m going to be as gentle as I can, but it’s still going to hurt,” you explain.

Hazel just nods and closes her eyes.

You begin to dab the wet paper towel on her face and the blood starts to come off. She winces with pain and says “ow” every once in a while, her eyes still sealed shut.

“Why don’t you talk to me? It’ll distract you from the pain.” You are suggesting it for her, but also for you. You’ve really missed talking to Hazel.

She opens her eyes to look at you with a tense expression.

“Right, right. Good idea. Um… how have you been?”

“Well I haven’t been punched in the face recently, so better than you,” you laugh a little and she does too.

“Fight club is great, for real. Yeah we get a little banged up, but it’s a safe space.”

You can’t help but laugh more as you echo “safe space.”

You expect her to continue to defend her new venture but she quickly changes the subject instead.

“So, how’s your um,” Hazel pauses to clear her throat, “girlfriend?”

That takes you by surprise. You didn’t really talk to Hazel at all but you guess that it makes sense that she would know which lesbians are in relationships with each other.

“Oh, we actually broke up. Last week,” you tell her shyly. It’s weird discussing your love life with someone that has your old feelings for her creeping up on you.

“I’m… sorry to hear that.” Does she sound relieved? It wasn’t a secret that your ex wasn’t exactly the nicest to you, so that must be it.

“It was for the best. Things weren’t exactly good between us,” you admit.

“You deserve so much better than her!” Hazel blurts out unexpectedly.

“I… thank you. That means a lot to me.” She just nods her head.

You take a step back and her eyes widen, seeming to think it was her fault.

“I’m done,” you tell her and you see a wave of relief come over her.

“What are we going to do about that shirt?”

“I’ll just change when I get home.” Hazel tells you.

“No, no.” You protest and pick up your hoodie. You offer it to her “take this.”

Hazel’s eyes dart around nervously. “That’s, um, okay.”

“You are going to get your little fight club disbanded” you warn, “if anyone sees you walking around with blood all over you like that. It’s bad enough that you’ve got a black eye. Plus everyone is still freaking out about that girl getting beat up by the Huntington football player.”

Hazel takes a nervous breath and starts to pull her shirt off. Your eyes widen and you know you should look away but it’s hard to when she reveals her toned stomach and sports bra. “What are you…” you begin to question frantically.

She cuts you off, “I don’t want to get any blood on your sweatshirt.”

You nod and finally peel your eyes off of her. You look away but leave your hand out so she can take the hoodie.

After a moment she clears her throat and you look back at her. You can’t help but smile a little bit seeing your hoodie on Hazel.

“I better get going,” she says and she starts to walk away. You step in front of her.

“Your eye is practically swollen shut. You can’t drive like that. I’ll give you a ride home.”

She freezes like a dear in headlights. She looks like she’s about to protest but she knows you are right.

“But my car? How am I supposed to get back to it, get to school tomorrow?” She asks nervously.

“I’ll just drive you to school tomorrow,” you tell her with a smirk. You can’t help it. The thought of getting to spend more time with Hazel excites you. She looks a little intimidated by how forward you are. She avoids eye contact. “I guess I’ll grab my stuff.”

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upon-a-starry-night · 2 months

Text

Self Care Natasha One-Shot

Request: " Nat is feeling achy after a mission and uses some fancy Shield tech to clone herself and give herself a back massage. It would get smutty from there"

Natasha Masterlist Main Masterlist

Paring: Natasha Romanoff x Herself

Words: 2k

Request? Yes/ No

Warnings: Smut, selfcest I guess?

Summary: Exhausted after a mission, Nat does what she has to do to release some stress

--------

To say Nat was exhausted would be an understatement. The mission wasn’t that much harder than usual but it took more days than she’d been expecting it to and by the time she was done and on the way home her body was sore in more ways than one.

The uncomfortable quinjet seats weren’t helping either. She was going to yell at Tony as soon as the tension in her back eased up. Stretching her arms above her head, she groaned at the knots she could feel digging into her shoulders.

At this point, a warm shower wouldn’t even be enough. There had to be something she could do to ease the aching in her spine or the other Avengers were going to be dealing with a very frustrated Nat for the rest of the week.

As soon as the quinjet landed Nat was making her way to her room, eager to find a solution and avoid any trainees who wanted to talk to her. S.H.I.E.L.D. Needed to evaluate their training if newer recruits kept leaving training to come fangirl of her and her other Avengers.

The thought stops her in her tracks. She remembers hearing something about a new training assist gadget Tony helped invent to help the recruit train. Something about cloning them so that they could fight themselves and see where they went wrong and how to improve. She’d never really paid any attention to it when it was brought up but now it might be of use to her.

Changing her course, Nat heads straight for the tech room. The doors slide open easily for her considering her full access to every single room. She sifts through the piles of papers filled with various weapon ideas until she finds the one she’s looking for.

The T.T.A.C. or the Tactical Training Assist Cloner. She rolls her eyes. Obviously, Shield named this weapon, Tony would have come up with something less practical.

She finds the weapon code and types it into the keypad on the back wall, watching as the wall spins past a few other weapons before landing on the T.T.A.C.

It’s smaller than she imagined. There’s a small handheld gadget with a needle on the end and a small round mechanical disk with a button next to it. She grabs both items and the paper with the weapon info and takes them both back to her room.

She doesn’t bother telling anyone or leaving a note, she knows the cameras will see that she took it and she doesn’t plan on using it for long. If anyone had a problem they could take it up with her.

Once inside of her room, she reads the instructions carefully before following them, groaning as she places the metal disk on the floor. She hoped this worked, she needed some instant relief.

She places the disk on the floor and presses the button, stepping back as the disk opens up and transforms into a small raised platform, big enough for one person to stand on.

Next, she pricks her finger with the needle thing and lets the blood drop onto the raised platform. Immediately it begins to glow a light blue and various mechanical sounds are filling up her room as the platform analyzes her DNA.

She doesn’t bother to understand how it works, if she did she’d probably get a headache but she can’t hide her surprise when a minute later an exact clone of her takes shape on the platform. It’s in a standard Shield training uniform and she realizes that must have been programmed in.

The clone just stands there staring blankly, according to the instructions it would remain docile until given instructions. Nat, however, would not be using it for training. It was time to test how well this thing listened and how much of a clone it really was.

“Clone, register command”

The clone locks eyes with Nat and stands a little straighter, waiting for a command. She resists the urge to shiver, it’s a little eerie but she wasn’t about to complain if it was going to do her a favor.

“I need a massage so that I can be ready to get back into the field as soon as possible, can you do that?” She doesn’t know why she feels the need to justify her actions. Maybe it was something about talking to herself.

The clone gives a small nod and she realizes they must not have the ability to speak yet. She supposed they don’t need to speak when they’re only built for physical training but it’s something for them to look into later.

“Do you know what to do?” The clone gives another short nod and Nat removes her shirt so that she’s just in her sports bra. If this clone was really her, hopefully, it would know all the spots she needed to ease the most tension.

She lies down on her bed on her stomach, moving a pillow under her chin so she’s more comfortable. Her gaze drifts behind her when she hears shuffling and she keeps her eyes glued to her clone as it climbs onto the bed and settles onto her thighs. The pressure is light and for a second she’s worried this will be too soft of a massage but she realizes if they can throw punches in training they can probably give decent massages.

Her head settles back onto the pillow and she closes her eyes the second the hands begin digging into her back. The pressure is incredible and the clone is hitting all the exact spots she was aching in.

The clone presses its hands deeper into her shoulders and she releases a sigh as the pressure gets kneaded out. If she had known it was going to feel this good she would have done this sooner.

She resists the urge to moan as the clone hits a particularly deep knot in her back. Perhaps she could be in for more than just a back massage. The rest of her body could use the release.

Something about the feeling of her own hands digging into her feels uniquely intimate and the deeper they dig into her the more she feels herself getting turned on.

She’d been so busy on the mission and spending the weeks before that preparing that she hadn’t had the time to relieve some of her stress. Only now was she realizing just how wound up the coil in her body felt

Without her even asking, the clone begins massaging its way down the rest of her body once her back is done. The rough fingers digging into her thighs do nothing to stop the growing heat between her legs.

She’d never thought about this situation before but now that she was here… who would know her body better than herself? All the best spots, all the things that made her come undone.

Feeling herself clench at the idea she decides there’s no harm in it if it helps her relieve some stress. Plus she would be helping the system learn how to read body language better.

Turning herself over, she watches as the clone quickly adapts, massaging up and down her calves and feet. She almost doesn’t want to tell it to stop but the idea of a better release spurs her on.

“Register command” The clone stops its actions and finds her eyes once more. There’s a heady look in its gaze and she wonders if it’s copying her facial expression or just reacting to the situation.

Slowly, Nat slides her hand down her chest, Stopping at her nipples to roll them between her fingers. She throws her head back at the sensation but her eyes stay on the clone whose gaze remains locked on her. The sight of herself just watching turns her on even more and has her hand traveling further down her body.

She slips her pants off her legs as the clone hovers over her.

Sliding her hand between her thighs she lets her fingers drift between her folds, working their way up and down through the wetness that had already begun to form. She noticed the way the clone's eyes drifted down to what was happening between her thighs, despite the fact that the clone was supposed to stay stoic and stare at her until a command was received. Interesting.

Eager to test her own skills, Nat stops her ministrations and gives control over to the clone. She doesn’t bother stating a command, wanting to see if it will act on its own.

The clone reacts immediately, placing its hand over Nat’s unmoving fingers. Instead of moving Nat’s hand out of the way, however, they begin moving Nat’s hand for her, repeating her earlier actions of dragging her fingers through her folds.

They continue at an agonizingly slow pace, trying to draw out and prolong her release. It’s something Nat had done to herself a few nights when she had the time. Trying to savor the feeling of pleasure for as long as she could.

Eventually, the clone drags Nat’s hand to her clit and languidly circles the bud. Shutting her eyes, Nat moans at the feeling, letting the clone set an even pace as it uses her own hand to pleasure her.

She can already feel the pressure building in her core, however, and she’s desperate for more than what the clone is giving her. She knows her body best so why wasn’t the clone doing more? It’s then she realizes that the clone wasn’t touching her on its own because it hadn’t been permitted to.

“Touch me” Green eyes snap to meet hers and the clone doesn’t bother nodding to confirm it received the command. Instead, it pushes away her own hands from her heat and replaces them with its own. The hands feel the same, if only a little colder, and the clone wastes no time in touching Nat.

One hand crawls up Nat’s abdomen until she reaches her nipple, rolling it between their fingers. The other decides she’s wet enough for more and slides a finger into her heat, slowly pumping it in and out and watching Nat’s face for a reaction.

Nat throws her head back, moaning in pleasure. This is what she was looking for. This was exactly what she would be doing by herself but now she had the chance to relax and let herself be taken care of.

The clone starts pumping faster, adding another finger when she was ready and moving the hand from Nat’s breast down to her clit, rubbing swift circles as Nat continues to moan.

Nat can already feel the coil of her release begin to wind up. Her clone reaching her g spot with every thrust of their fingers. She brings her own hands up to her breast, massaging them as she watches her clone lean down towards her core.

Before she can process it, she’s moaning at the feeling of their tongue lapping at her folds. The long wet strokes mixed with the rapid pace of their fingers have her on the edge of her orgasm already. And when the clone moves to suck on her clit she covers her face as her body spasms in pleasure. The clone slows their movements but doesn’t stop, letting her ride out her orgasm until she finally bats their hand away.

She lays on her bed with her arm over her eyes as she processes what just happened. She was right in her thought that her clone would know the ins and outs of all of her body's pleasure. When she finally removes her arm she sees the clone staring at her with the same heady look as before. These things must be programmed with infinite stamina.

The thought leaves a smirk on her face. It wouldn't hurt to borrow this thing for a couple more hours

A/n: I hope I made this the way you imagined- it's my first time writing smut! ~ Starry

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