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cybertronic69 · 8 months

Text

- a little touch?

warnings: loser!ellie , bff!ellie , top!ellie , bottom!reader , fingering (r!receiving) , choking (r!receiving) , degradation (r!receiving)

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"and THAT'S what i told her." you finish your hot piece of gossip. "wow... the world is spinning." you mumble as you rest on your head on ellie's shoulder. she blushes a little and gently strokes your hair with her fingers.

"it's, okay..." she smiles softly. "i got you. take it easy." she takes a sip of her whiskey and tries to not make a face at it. she doesn't like whiskey. in fact, she hates whiskey. but when you invited her to a nice little pub in jackson, she thought that maybe that was her chance to make herself look cool to you. so here she is. drinking rat poison. "i think you've had enough for the night, no?"

"no..." you shake your head. "i can take it..." your voice is slightly breathy and oh. you really shouldn't say these things around her. not that she is going to do anything about it, cause she's a pussy, but it gives her a hard time. like, come on, have some empathy.

ellie tries to ignore the rumble in her heart when you look up at her with big curious eyes. "is it good?" you mumble when your hands slowly wrap around her cup.

she shrugs trying to act nonchalant. "i like it." she doesn't. her eyes are glued on your lips when you take a sip of her drink. indirect kiss. she wants to slap herself in the face. stop being weird. act cool.

"argh..." you stick your tongue out with a frown and she chuckles. "this shit is ass." you add.

ellie grabs her cup again and takes one more sip. indirect kiss. indirect kiss. indirect kiss. she sighs and shifts on her seat. she's pathetic.

you take a look around and notice that the cozy pub is almost empty now. the little screws in your brain start to work hard. you need to have her before someone else snatches her from you. ellie, being the dumb fuck she is, never notices when girls try to flirt with her. and that includes you too. like, ok... you might not be the most direct person ever but jesus christ the girl is oblivious.

so you shoot your shot. again. "looking pretty cute tonight, els..." you whisper with a little grin.

she looks at you like a deer in headlights. "o-oh... do you think so?" she swallows hard and chuckles awkwardly. "are you that drunk already?" neeever gonna get it.

"you look pretty even when i'm sober." you reply and ellie looks a tomato now. ok, maybe we need a different approach.

"hey... remember when you told me about the holes in the space... with the... snakes...?" you whisper. she always did stuff like that. you actually like it when she elliexplains things to you. it's cute. she's cute.

ellie's heart flutters in her chest just from hearing your voice. "snakes?" she frowns. "oh!" her expressions changes to a amused one and she chuckles. "you're thinking of wormholes... the holes in like... the space-time itself."

"really?" now you're the one frowning. you could swear it was the fucking snakes. maybe if you spent more time actually listening to her than just staring stupidly at her pretty little face.... "well... worms... snakes... they both don't have legs... or arms... so..." you shrug.

"i think wormholes are much cooler than snakes, personally." she gently smiles, finding you funny.

"snakes are definitely cooler." you blurt out and she laughs. "like... at least they're solid. everything in the universe is like dust, gas and blah, blah, blah..."

"not everything is gas or dust..." her eyes are sparkling when she looks at you. "what about black holes?"

"are they solid?" you raise an eyebrow.

"no... but... you can definitely see and hear things that have been affected by one." she stares up at the ceiling, like she's lost in thought. "plus they're infinitely dense, so that's pretty solid right?"

"no, it's not." you hug her arm and rub your face on her shoulder, making ellie's breath hitch for a moment and messing up her train of thought. "you are solid."

"y-yeah..." her voice cracks. "i am."

"i don't think i could hug a black hole, but i can hug you." you grin like you just made the smartest point ever.

ellie nods and stays silent. she's nervous. you make her nervous. even tho you two have been friends for a looong time, she always makes a fool of herself when you're around. trembling hands, stuttered words, flushed cheeks.

"you smell so good..." you brush your nose against her neck and ellie is really about to pass out. she clears her throat and adjusts her glasses that are slipping off her nose.

"you drank a lot, don't you wanna go to the bathroom?" she says trying to change to a topic that doesn't involve your lips being so close to her skin.

"mmh... yeah, i think..." you slowly get up from your seat and your little brain screws get to work again. your direct you gaze at her and smile. "come with me. girl code." girl code my ass.

ellie, not thinking much of it, just nods and follows you. she really is a dumb fuck... but you hope that by the end of the night you will be the one who's dumb.

you two get to the bathroom and you stop in front of the mirror to check yourself out. ellie also stops to check you out. she's very subtle about it tho. at least that's what she thinks.

"you're not going?" you point at one of the cabins and ellie shakes her head. "ok, just wait for me then."

as you sit on the closed toilet lid, your brain is working at the speed of light trying to figure it out what to do. this is the perfect opportunity. "els?" you whisper in a quiet voice.

"yes? are you okay?" her voice sounds gentle and caring. god, you need to have her.

"i think i need your help, can you come inside?" you unlock the door of the cabin.

"um... yeah... sure..." her filthiest dreams usually started like this. she's scared. and horny. "what is it?" she mumbles, now standing inside the cabin.

you get up and frown looking down at your clothes. "there's something making me itchy... i think it's like a tag or something... can you take it off for me?" get this woman an oscar.

ellie feels her voice dying out in her throat, so she simply nods.

"thanks, els." you lock the door and hear her gulp. "just in case someone tries to walk in..." you add with a grin plastered on you face.

"makes sense..." ellie mumbles and her eyes double in size when you start to take your shirt off. she is having a hard time looking you in the eyes. i mean, she always does, but this time there's a reason right in front of her. two reasons, if you want to be specific.

"cute bra, right?" you whisper with an amused look on your eyes.

she sighs with a flushed expression. "yes..." when you touch her shoulders and gently make her sit down on the toilet, she has to hold in a gasp. "w-what?"

you smile again. "just so you can see better. you know... the tag that we're trying to find in my clothes." your turn around and slightly fold the fabric on the waistline of your pants. "do you see anything?"

yes, she does. she sees your fucking white lace panties and this is so not fair to her. she looks up at you with that cute expression that she makes when she's too embarrassed. slightly furrowed brows, puppy eyes and flushed cheeks. she looks miserable and it's turning you on a little too much.

"what?" you try to look serious but the way your lips are curling up in a smile gives you away.

"why are you doing this to me?" ellie mumbles and her voice is so broken, so needy...

"because..." you get closer to her, making her nose brush against your ribs. "you make me so horny..."

ellie looks like someone who was hit by a car. her heart is beating so fast that she thinks she's going on cardiac arrest. "you're drunk..." she babbles breathlessly.

"doesn't chance the fact my panties are soaked right now..." you sit on her lap and she whines.

ellie was going to die. her boxers felt too tight, her lungs didn't seem to be doing their job correctly and her blood pressure was on the ground. "this is... this is not...."

"don't you want me too, els?" you bury your face on her neck and your hot breath against her skin is making her hyperventilate.

ellie closes hers for a moment and takes a deep breath... she tries to keep her cool and whispers. "we can't do that, you know it. you're drunk." her veiny hands hesitantly touch your bare back. "just relax... try to ignore... t-this feeling..."

"but it's such a good feeling..." your hips slowly start to move on their own, trying to get some relief.

ellie starts to panic a bit now "shhhhhhhh... just... ignore it..." she whispers again. her hands reach your hips, holding you tightly now, not letting you move around.

you let out a soft whimper at this. her hands feel so good against your skin... you need more.

"just...." ellie sighs. she brings you closer again and looks into your eyes... she feels your hips moving faster. she grabs you harder and tries to hold you down. "calm d... down..." she mumbles. "be good... for now..."

"touch me more... please..." you mumble against her neck.

ellie is trying to hold her breath now. her cheeks are a deep red, her jaw clenched and a few drops of sweat are now visible on her forehead. she can feel your hips moving against hers. "stop... don't make me do it..."

"do it..." your voice is shaky and full of need.

"i shouldn't... i c-can't..." she tries to calm down but it's not working. in a moment of impulse she starts kissing the side of your neck.

"nngh... love you, els...." you babble already feeling drunk in her.

"i... i love you too... i love you so much... that's why i... can't..." ellie's sentence is cut off by her leaning forward and nibbling your neck. she grips your hips tightly, not letting you move around.

"give me a k-kiss... a real one... " you touch your forehead on hers.

ellie's eyes go wide and her breathing becomes even more shallow as she hears you say that. "we're drunk... you're... not thinking clear..." she whispers, trying to find excuses so you change your mind.

"need you..." you whisper back.

her grip is tight around you. "i... i don't think this is a good idea."

you gently brush your lips against her jaw, almost not touching it. ellie lets this continue for a moment and tries to keep her cool. she feels your lips and your hand cupping her face. she bites her lower lip and tries to stay still. her body reacts to you and she's trying her hardest to stay calm and not lose it now.

but when you peck her lips, ellie loses her cool. she grabs your shoulders and pulls you towards her body, slamming her lips on yours. her hands are touching you everywhere as you're having the sloppiest and most desperate kiss of your life.

"can i p-please.... touch your..." she cups your pussy and you moan. you roll your hips against her hand and she moans.

"there's no need to ask... do it..." you whisper and she nods.

"i'll do.... it." she turns you around on her lap, making your back press against her chest. "whatever... i want..." she mumbles in between hot kisses on your neck, her hand cupping your pussy again.

you moan softly as your back arch against her body. "yes... like this" your head falls back on her shoulder and she wraps one hand around your neck. you gasp. what the fuck. that's what she meant by 'whatever she wants?' filthy. not like you're the best person to judge considering the fact that you were basically smashing your boobs on her poor shocked face not too long ago.

ellie was in heaven. this barely started and it already was better than any fantasy, any wet dream she could possibly have. your hips squirmed on her lap everytime she toyed with your puffy clit through the fabric of your panties and you gasped when she squeezed your neck a little harder and... and... and...

her boxers were soaked. she couldn't believe this. she must be dreaming... that's it. it's too good to be true. but then you grind your ass down on her pussy. she feels it right on her clit and she groans.

"s-stop acting like a slut...." she bites down on your shoulder. "teasing me like that... all the time..." she slides two fingers inside your pussy and you mewl. "gonna give you... what you want... you fucking whore." she babbles against your neck.

see, ellie's mouth wouldn't be nowhere as dirty if she wasn't so pussy drunk. she was a loser, after all. but she had all this accumulated frustration inside her that she needed to let it out. and maybe you are a whore, so who cares? no hard feelings.

"gonna fuck... this pussy... nngh... so good...." she quickens the pace of her fingers, hitting the gummy spot inside your pussy and you sob.

"i-it's too g-good, ellie..." you babble, your hips trembling hard.

"y-yeah? you like it when... when..." she's full on dry humping you now, her hips hitting your ass cheeks making a delicious pressure on her clit. "ah fuck..."

when your walls squeeze hard around her fingers, she also has to close her eyes hard. because what the fuck? is she really about to cum? no... you need to cum first.

her thumb finds your clit and massages it as her fingers keep railing your poor pussy. her free hand grips on your squirming hips, to keep you in place.

"e-ellie.... nngh..." you can't even see anything at this point. your vision is blurry with tears and your lip is in between your teeth.

"shh... you're gonna cum for me, ok? please cum for me..." she whispers against your neck, sounding a little too desperate herself.

you nod eagerly, almost drooling at this point, and your orgasm hits you hard. when you let out a loud strangled moan, ellie's hand shuts your mouth and she buries her face on your back, trying not to make any loud sounds herself.

when she takes her hand off your soaked panties, she has to hold a noise in. you made a fucking mess all over her fingers and she needs to taste it.

"can you... can you give me another one?" she kisses your shoulder. "please, give me another one... need to taste your pretty pussy... come on..."

you simply nod at this, your ability to speak long gone. ellie lifts you up and presses your back against the wall of the cabin. "gonna make it good, i promise..." she whispers as she kisses down your torso and gets on her knees.

you look down at her and the view almost kills you. a very messy ellie, with flushed cheeks, trembling lips, and her glasses still on her pretty face. yours hands caress her hair and she blinks hard.

"you're pretty..." you mumble.

ellie looks very embarrassed at the compliment almost as if she wasn't calling you names 5 minutes ago. "thank you..." she puts one of yours legs on her shoulder. "you're... the prettiest." she kisses your pussy and you shiver.

she takes her time now, being gentle and giving your thighs soft kisses and bites, teasing you until she finally gives your slit a long lick. you groan at this and tighten your grip on her hair. she also groans at this.

as things get more foggy and intense, your noises get louder. "shh... gotta be quiet." ellie mumbles, even tho she's also moaning. from eating you out. insane.

"els... if you k-keep going..." you shut your eyes hard as your legs tremble.

"...you're gonna cum? if i keep going...? her voice is shaky as she seems even more hungry now. she's eating your pussy like she's starved, your juices all over her face.

you roll your hips into her face, pulling her closer by her hair. you're pretty much using her at this point and she couldn't be happier. best day ever. or maybe not, cause soon after that you two hear loud slams on the bathroom door.

"ah, fuck, fuck, fuck..." ellie eyes are wide as she slowly gets up, her legs wobbly. she wipes her face with her shirt and licks her lips.

"the pub is CLOSING. this is not a motel." the loud voice from the other room announces and you can't help but giggle.

"dont laugh!" ellie says, exasperated. "they all will know what we've done when we leave... what if-"

you pull her into a gentle kiss and she melts. when you pull back her face is even more red than before, somehow. "h-hey... i was talking..." ellie mumbles, a slight pout on her lips.

"talk to me when we get to your room... i'm not done with you yet." you put your shirt on and leave the bathroom.

ellie stays there for a little, trying to catch her breath, hoping the redness on her cheeks would stop. it didn't.

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#talking to my psychiatrist about my obsession with ellie wearing glasses 💯#she's a cutie #ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie williams x you #tlou 2 ellie #tlou 2 #tlou #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x female reader

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macfrog · 11 months

Text

welcome home cowboy like me chapter five

he's back!!! and he's putting up DECORATIONS part v is yours, loves. if ya wanna read the first four (!! how did we get here) parts, you can check out my masterlist right here 😊 as always your support means the WORLD to me. i love talking with y'all & hearing your thoughts. lmk what we think of this one!!!

pairing: dbf!joel x fem!reader

summary: joel requests your help to decorate his house for sarah’s return…and a few other things, too

warnings: 18+ minors dni!!! the smut is smutting. oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex (wrap it the fuck UP), praise kink, lil bit of overstimulation, age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), un poco consumption of alcohol, cursing, soft!joel at the end tbh i'm a sucker for him

word count: 5.4k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

It’s where this was headed anyway, wasn’t it? You’ve fucked around with Joel three times now, and none of your clothes have ever made it off your bodies. This is a first. You’ve never had an empty house plus the time and space to really do it. Always someone about to walk in, or someone waiting for one of you. When, if not right this fucking second? “I want,” you breathe, fingers now taking hold of the waistband of his black boxers, “you,” you slip them down, “inside me,” exposing the base of his hard cock, “right now.”

The two front legs of your chair scrape against the wooden floor as you lift it to sit down. Your dad had an early finish today, so said he’d cook dinner. From scratch.

He’d refused your help when you offered to keep an eye on the chicken, was more offended when you said you’d cook the asparagus, and now, looking at your scrunched nose as you stare down at the lumpy mashed potatoes, looks just plain insulted.

“Sit, eat, don’t say a word.”

“I offered to help.”

His fork hits off the porcelain plate and he sighs. “I had a lot to tend to, alright?”

“Chicken, asparagus, and…mashed potatoes?” you say, dragging your fork through the mash – though it’s more lump than it is mash.

“Eat. It.”

You tuck in, ignoring the rattle of the table as you tug your knife back and forth to cut the chicken. Your dad’s face reddens as you chew your way through his meal.

“How was work?”

You throw your mouthful back your throat with a gulp and take a big swig of water. “Good,” you try not to choke out, “Sal let me go early ‘cause it was so quiet.”

“Yeah?”

You nod. “Bill was in lookin’ for screws or something. Was Anna who helped him–”

Your sentence is cut short by your dad’s ringtone, and he leans back in his chair to the sideboard behind to retrieve it.

“Yep?” he says, and you know who’s on the other end. Yep? means Joel. “Shoot, I forgot to ask her. Well, she’s right here, gimme a sec.”

He covers the bottom of his phone with his palm, and nods toward you.

“You alright to head over to Joel’s tonight ‘n help ‘im with the house for Sarah comin’ home?”

You narrow your eyes, head tilting. “What…?”

“He’s got some banner or something. Joel, what is it you got? Yeah, a banner. Decorations.”

He cocks an eyebrow and looks at you blankly.

You slowly nod, teeth pulling asparagus off your fork. “I can help.”

“She’ll be over in a bit, Joel. Alright. Alright. Bye, now.”

The phone is thrown onto the table with a clatter. Your dad silently resumes eating.

You clear your throat, trying to sound normal over something you feel very not normal about.

“You volunteerin’ me for things again? I thought we talked about this when you told Rita I’d fix up her flowerbeds for her.”

“Oh, we’re bringin’ up the past, are we?”

“Just sayin’,” you mutter, staring down at your lumpy potatoes.

“Wasn’t me, anyways. Joel asked for you specially this afternoon. Told him you were workin’, he said to ask you when you got back. Was his idea.”

Was it, now? That’s…interesting.

“What time’s he wanting me over?”

“Whenever. He’s in all night.”

Suddenly you’re not so hungry for overcooked chicken and not-mashed potatoes anymore.

You swallow down what you can – what’s edible, anyway – and head upstairs to get ready. Trying to act casual enough that your dad won’t sense your eagerness.

Sure, just grabbing my shoes. I just want the house to look nice for Sarah. It’s really her I’m thinking of. Okay, cool, see you, bye.

You throw a pair of sneakers on, check yourself once over in the mirror, and grab your keys.

“That was quick,” your dad remarks when you reach the bottom of the stairs. He’s still powering through his asparagus.

“Just…wanna get it done. For Sarah, y’know.”

He nods. “You lookin’ forward to havin’ her back? Your ol’ pal?”

“Sure. Alright, I’m off. Don’t wait up.”

You practically throw yourself out the front door before he can get another word in, striding over to your car. You’re thankful when the late sun hits you to only be in sweat shorts and a vest top; it may be seven in the evening, but the heat is still stifling.

You pull up in Joel’s drive and climb out, giving the neighborhood a quick scan as you walk over to the front door, trying not to skip. Being handed an excuse to spend a few hours alone with him in an empty house feels like winning the lottery, you’re a little embarrassed to admit.

Joel’s in the living room laying out the decorations he’s bought when you walk in. He’s wearing a denim shirt and white Rangers tee underneath, his regular old jeans on the bottom.

His Hello is comprised of a glance up, a lift of his eyebrows, and a quick scan over your body as you approach. You take a deep breath to dissipate the bubbling feeling in your stomach.

“So, you asked for me specially, huh?”

He nods. “It was either you or your dad, and his ass ain’t as nice to look at as yours.”

“Oh, nice. Glad to be of service. Looks good,” you muse, nodding downward.

The supplies are sprawled out over the coffee table between you both. A huge banner folded up; the beginning of the word Welcome visible. A few packets of multi-colored streamers, balloons, and other gold and silver colored stuff lay around it.

“Probably won’t use it all,” Joel says, sniffing. “Just wanted to give her a big welcome home.”

“All my dad did was pick me up at the airport,” you scoff.

Joel looks up, misses a beat, then says, “Well, your welcome home gift is me.”

“Ha. Good one. C’mon. Let’s get started.”

You task Joel with blowing up balloons while you balance along the back of his couch to tape streamers to the top of the walls. It’s a struggle, though, since Joel keeps tying balloons and hitting them over to you, aiming for your head. He titters to himself when your hair begins to go static.

“That funny to you?” you yell, whacking the fifth balloon out of your face.

“Yeah,” he chuckles back. “You should see your hair, kid.”

By the time the streamers are suspended from the ceiling, dancing in the breeze from the open windows, Joel’s out of breath and sweating.

“Hard fuckin’ work,” he mutters, taking off his shirt. He throws it onto the couch without looking, but still, you suspect he knows exactly what you’ll do.

With a sideward glance to him, you lean back and fish it from the couch, throwing it over yourself. There’s something intoxicating about wearing his clothes, smelling him all over yourself, feeling the warmth from his body. Joel knows it. When he glances over at you to see his shirt hanging off your shoulders, he smirks.

“I think we deserve a break,” he says, eyes lingering.

When he makes off for the kitchen, you throw yourself down on his couch, head falling back against the soft cushions.

He returns with two beers, handing one down to you before laying back beside you. Your shoulders rub against one another as you both take a swig.

“Your dad really didn’t do nothin’? When you got home?”

“I guess you could say he did the barbecue,” you reply, shrugging.

“The neighborhood barbecue, that everyone takes a turn at hostin’? The same one he had you out buyin’ steaks and soda for, two hours before it started?”

“I don’t need a welcome home party. I am the welcome home party.” Your middle finger meets your thumb and you give your wrist a shake in the air, and Joel laughs.

“You deserve one.”

“You wanna throw me one?”

“Can do. If you want.”

You smile in response.

A few moments of silence pass. Comfortable silence. You lie, temple resting against Joel’s shoulder, listening to the trees in his back yard rustle, the birds singing. Peaceful, tranquil. Content.

You like talking with Joel. You like when he’s doing other stuff to you, sure, but you like just being around him. It’s different to spending time with anyone else his age. They all want to ask about your future, your career, are you dating anyone?

Joel just lets you be. Doesn’t push nothin’, doesn’t make you worry. Just wants to make you feel good.

Both mentally and physically, of course.

“Heard any more from Arthur Kennedy?” you ask, more just to hear his voice again than anything. You’re kinda worried he’s falling asleep over there.

Joel takes a deep breath, starts playing with the label on his beer bottle. “Nope,” he says, taking a quick sip, “and don’t wanna.”

“What is it with him, anyways? Why is he the way he is?”

“Just a dirtbag of a man. You get ‘em, y’know? Ain’t none of us really like him. I was pissed at your dad for askin’ him the other day.”

“What does he say at Frank’s? What kinda talk does he give?”

Joel shakes his head like he doesn’t even want to open his mouth. When you nudge him, he clears his throat and then speaks.

“Just all this, ‘I bagged this chick last week’, ‘I was messin’ ‘round with this little beauty’… ‘Tighter ‘n a’ this, ‘Wetter ‘n a’ that. We all know he’s just talkin’ load. The man’s too old to even get an erection anymore.”

You snort. “I bet I could run rings around ‘im, if I ever caught him talking like that.”

Joel half laughs, but it falls apart when his tone gets quietly serious again.

“Just…do me a favor, and stay away from him,” he says in a soft voice. “You’d have me up all night if I thought him ‘n his sleazy hands were anywhere near you.”

He turns his head to lean his jaw on your hair. You think over what he just said. The thought of Joel, awake all night with worry about some sleazeball being within a four-house radius of you makes your stomach flutter.

The idea of him being worried about you. The thought of what he’d do if he ever caught wind Arthur Kennedy had even so much as looked at you twice.

Before your stomach lurches out of your throat with the butterflies soaring around it, you decide to cut the moment short.

“Where’s the banner goin’?” You lean forward, placing your beer on the coffee table and taking hold of the sign.

“Was thinkin’ on that wall,” Joel nods to the wall across from the living room door, “so it’s the first thing she sees when she comes in.”

“Uhuh,” you reply, nodding.

“C’mere,” he says, standing up. “Climb on.”

“Climb on what?”

“My shoulders. I can’t reach all the way up there, what with the TV in the way and all.”

“You’re, like, six feet.”

“It’s a big banner,” he grumbles, kneeling to let you swing your legs over his shoulders. “C’mon. Up.”

“Pfft, okay, old man.”

“Old–? Did you just–? That’s not even funny.”

Joel straightens up and you clutch your stomach with laughter.

“Will you just get on, baby?”

“Alright, alright. Stay still.”

You carefully mount his shoulders and his steady hands wrap around your knees, holding you in place. You wobble as he straightens his legs, lifting you so high your head brushes off the ceiling.

“Alright, be careful. No sudden movements.”

“Right here?” you ask, positioning it.

“Little to the left,” he groans, craning his neck to see. “Right there, that’s it.”

You push the pin through the banner and into the wall, releasing your breath once it’s secured. Joel slowly shuffles over to the other side where you line it up and do the same there.

Once all four corners are in place, he steps back, your legs still wrapped over his neck, and you both admire your teamwork. Joel’s thumbs are gently rubbing your thighs.

“Looks good, huh?”

“Mhm,” you reply. “Anything else to go up?”

“Nah. That’ll do.”

“You just keepin’ me up here for company, then?” you ask, leaning over to look at his face.

He looks back up at you and snorts. “Sorry, darlin’.”

Joel slowly makes over to the couch and bends a little, letting you dismount him to stand on the leather cushion. You’re only slightly taller than him, even standing on his furniture.

He doesn’t take his eyes off you, scanning from your lips down to your chest, curtained by his shirt, then over your stomach and down your legs. You know that look. You’ve seen it enough by now. It means…

“What’s next?” you innocently ask, and his eyes snap back up to your face.

Instead of answering, he steps forward, taking your waist in his hands and pulling you against him. His chin tilts up and you smile as you dip your head, connecting your lips.

You immediately deepen the kiss, feeling Joel’s hunger, and satiating your own, too. Your arms drape over his shoulders, relaxing as his form holds you, allowing you to fold into him.

His arms take a grip of you as he bends at the waist, lowering you both down onto the couch, laughing against each other’s lips. He pulls your thighs apart to lean his hips between yours.

His hands begin exploring your body, feeling from your hips over your breasts, making you moan into the kiss, and settle on the collar of his shirt, pushing the sleeves down your shoulders to remove it. In return, your fingers find the hem of his tee and pull it up over his midriff, hunger growing with each hot second that passes.

He leans back, giving you room to whip the shirt over his head, before his naked torso is back on you. His fingers then dance along the waistband of your shorts, untying them whilst his other hand plays at the hem of your vest.

Your shorts lying loose on your hips, he peels your top off of your body, and your shoulders lift to let it over your head. Joel takes the opportunity while your back is off the couch to unclip your bra, throwing the article to the floor.

“Nice,” you whisper into his mouth, and he chuckles in response.

His bare chest, decorated lightly with dark brown hair, is against yours; his lips move to your neck, biting another mark into the sensitive skin. Your head tilts back and you let out a moan, wanting more, but Joel’s taking his time. He’s making every second count.

You buck your hips against his and he lifts his head, giving you a knowing smirk and obeying your silent request. He begins making his way down, not forgetting to stop off by your tits and run his tongue over your nipples.

Your hands find home in his hair and your back arches some as he caresses the hardened buds, lips forming an O shape to suck on one while tending to the other with his thumb and index finger.

When you whine and your hips lift a second time, he moves across your tummy and toward your lowering shorts.

Eyes glazed with lust, you watch as he yanks them down, your panties the only thing separating you from him now. You hear your shorts hit the floor when he drops them, and places a wet kiss over your clothed cunt.

“Joel,” you moan, head falling back against the cushion. He’s driving you fucking insane.

“Mhm,” he murmurs, kissing the insides of your thighs. “Tell me, baby, tell me what you want.”

You writhe under his touch; he’s so close, and yet so far.

“Your tongue,” you whimper.

“Huh? Can’t hear you over your moanin’, pretty girl.”

“Fuck– Need your fucking tongue,” you say as clearly as you can, still whining some.

“Good girl.”

He uncovers your soaking cunt and tears – literally, tears – your panties off of your body, balling them up in a tight fist. You gasp, both delighted and relieved, watching him discard the ripped fabric by his side.

Neither of you give a fuck. You’re desperate to feel each other, be on each other, be in each other.

He dips his head to your sex, and drags a long stripe up to your clit, collecting your juices on his tongue as he does. His tongue runs between your folds, swirling around, licking and threatening to dip further, before he lifts away again.

You let out a long moan, hands still tugging at his hair, attempting to push his head harder on your pussy. He doesn’t budge.

“Patience, baby,” he’s whispering, lowering his chin again to place his soft lips against your swollen clit.

He knows what he’s fucking doing – teasing you and making you wait like this. He wants it to build, really build, before you cum. He’s not cutting any corners.

His lips center over your bud, tongue tapping against it as he sucks, and brings his fingers up to sift through your folds. Your cunt aches for him; your hips find rhythm against his mouth as you fuck yourself off of him, and he lets you.

Feeling how wet you are, he plunges two long, curved fingers into your pussy, and your back, sticky with sweat, peels off of the couch for the second time.

“Fuck, Joel,” you gasp, feeling the stretch of his fingers inside you.

He hums against you, the vibrations of his deep voice pleasuring you more. He’s loving it as much as you are; tasting you, hearing you, breathing all of it in like it’s fresh air to his lungs.

Your breathing begins to falter, your chest rising and falling, your entire body ignited by his touch. You’re panting his name over and over, whining every time his fingers hit the spongey walls of your cunt.

He’s so fucking good at this.

He removes his fingers and replaces them with his lips, mouth planted firmly against your pussy. You widen your legs and he pushes down on your thighs, keeping them apart to make room for his jaw against your core, tongue licking between your folds again.

“Tongue,” you remind him.

“I hear ya,” he mumbles, and opens his lips.

His wet tongue slips into your cunt like it’s made to be there. You screw your eyes shut, pushing your upper back into the couch to lift your ass to him. His top lip cups around your clit as he eats you out, moans strumming against your sex, tongue exploring your wet hole.

“I’m close,” you whisper, and he removes his lips for two seconds to tell you to “Keep goin’, baby.”

“Doin’ so well for me,” he laps at your juices, “taste so fucking good, beautiful.”

He inserts his fingers again to bring you nearer your climax, and your mind starts to blank. You know what’s coming.

You can’t even form the shape of his name with your mouth as you draw nearer and nearer to your high; all you can focus on is the feeling of his hand fucking you, pumping in and out of your tight pussy, the way his tongue soaks your clit, the rutting of your hips all over his face.

It’s so fucking filthy, and so fucking good.

When Joel’s voice breaks through the fog in your brain, telling you to “Let go, baby, I’m here,” you obey him.

The edges of the room start to bleed white as your body lifts, fingers gripping onto Joel’s hair, hips digging further into the cushion.

It’s only ten o’clock; for all you know, Joel’s neighbors might be out in their backyard enjoying the warm night breeze. Do you care? Fuck no. You cry his name loud enough that the whole street might hear.

He coaxes you through it, drinking in your orgasm, moaning when your walls lock around his fingers and you cover his tongue in your sweet wet.

He slips his soaked fingers from your core and you whine at the loss; Joel makes up for it by gently massaging your aching clit as you come down, spreading your cum all over you.

“That’s it, baby, did so good. That felt good, huh?”

Still coming to, you don’t reply; you feel his weight back on top of yours, his safe arms wrapping around your shoulders.

“’s okay, darlin’,” he coos as your sight starts to return. He peppers your neck with gentle, wet kisses, bringing you back to earth.

Before even you realize it, your fingers are grasping at his jeans, blindly trying to undo the button and zipper. Joel laughs, lifting his hips to give you better access.

You giggle, loosening them and hauling them past his hips, and he sits up to drag them down his legs and shove them off near your shorts.

“What now, sweet girl?”

Your voice is low, serious. Barely above a whisper.

“Fuck me.”

He almost looks taken aback. As if he never thought he’d hear those words escape your lips. Like he’d been pushing you, further and further, expecting you to always hold back, always bounce back from the edge.

And here you are, clutching his arms and hauling him over with you.

It’s where this was headed anyway, wasn’t it? You’ve fucked around with Joel three times now, and none of your clothes have ever made it off your bodies. This is a first.

You’ve never had an empty house plus the time and space to really do it. Always someone about to walk in, or someone waiting for one of you. When, if not right this fucking second?

“I want,” you breathe, fingers now taking hold of the waistband of his black boxers, “you,” you slip them down, “inside me,” exposing the base of his hard cock, “right now.”

Joel’s eyes darken just as his huge cock bounces free from his underwear.

He’s watching your lips breathe out the words like it’s all he ever wanted to hear, all he’s thought about since that first night with your hands on his thighs, looking up at him so innocently.

Just waiting to be fucking ruined by him.

You slur the words again. “F-fuck me.”

“Yeah? ‘s that what you want?”

“Mhm.”

He’s kneeling over you now, helping you tug the underwear down his legs, precum-coated tip of his cock drawing circles on your stomach.

When he’s fully naked, he presses his body against yours, speaking to you between hot, wet kisses.

“You sure you can take it, pretty girl?”

“I’m sure,” you reply, lust taking over any remnants of your orgasm. Just fucking fuck me.

Joel’s hips raise, and he looks down to guide his cock to your hole. You bring your knees up, positioning them just under his biceps.

“Good,” he mumbles under his breath.

You’re so wet that when he runs his shaft through your folds, slicking himself up, his tip kisses the entrance of your cunt, drawing a gasp from you and a growl from Joel. You’re desperate for him to just slide in, make himself at home where he belongs, between your hips.

And when he does, it’s fucking euphoric.

He’s big. You knew this already. But feeling him inside you is different.

He pushes in halfway first, letting you get used to him.

“Okay?” he asks quietly.

You nod; your voice catches in your throat as he falls out of you, just to thrust in again and let his cock dive through your soaked, swollen folds straight into your warm cunt.

He’s so big that when he bottoms out inside you for the first time, your mouth falls open wordlessly, and your brain shuts down for a few minutes. Nothing but the feeling of him slipping in and out of your cunt slowly, fucking you dumb.

When he knows you can take him, he picks up the pace, dragging his hips back and forth against yours, filling you up until his tip kisses the edge of your cervix, and pulling out until he’s between your folds again.

You’re holding onto his shoulders like you’re hanging off a cliff edge. The feeling of his hot skin under your arms is the only thing keeping you grounded right now; the pressure between your legs with each thrust of his huge cock threatening to pull you off the edge of the abyss.

When his voice breathes in your ear between his groans, you snap back to reality. Thighs burning, nails scratching, pussy throbbing reality.

“You okay, baby?”

“Mhm.”

“Let me hear you, pretty girl, tell me how good it feels.”

He’s going faster still, balls smacking against your ass every time he bottoms out, sighs and whimpers passing your lips.

You whine his name, telling him, “Harder,” and he obliges, hips snapping ever stronger. His pubic bone grinds against your clit as he thrusts, the pressure spreading spots of pure bliss across your vision.

You look down to where your bodies connect, mesmerized by the sight of his cock pumping in and out of you. It turns you on even more.

“We look good, huh?” his voice lulls from above, and you look back up to find him watching you.

He dips his head and kisses you, and you start to near your second high.

“Joel,” you mewl, the feeling so good you can’t even form the words to tell him.

He knows, anyway.

“So good, baby,” he’s panting, sweaty forehead leaning against yours, “gonna cum all over me again?”

You nod, eyes screwing shut. He’s fucking you so good you’re barely remembering to breathe.

“Let go, darlin’, let me hear you,” he whispers, and you fold.

Joel bites into the crook of your neck and lets out a loud groan as he feels your pussy clamp around him. He fucks you through it, only slowing for a few seconds to let it wash over you, then picks the pace straight back up when you quieten and your breathing calms.

You’re so fucking overstimulated, but he’s not done, and you know what he wants. You want something, too. Maybe you two could work together.

“Joel?”

“Mhm?” He’s gone quiet, chasing his own high. You hear his breathing stammer when you say it.

“Want you to do it from behind.”

“Beh–” He’s almost gasping for breath, but when he understands what you mean, he wastes no time.

Wordlessly, he loosens his grip on you and pushes himself up, dick slipping out. You moan at the feeling of emptiness as it pulls out of you.

He gives you space to turn over, helping you move further up the couch with steady hands on your hips. When you settle, he lifts your ass up.

“Not gonna last long, baby,” he tells you, and you nod. Your right ear lies flat, sweat sticking you to the leather, hands splayed out above your head gripping the cushions.

You feel him line up again, his thighs against yours. Your breathing jilts as his head pushes in, followed by his shaft, filling you up, deeper and deeper until his balls kiss your clit.

You let a deep moan pass your lips. Joel groans, hips leaving your ass, only to smack into them again as he fucks you even deeper from this position.

He’s stretching you out more than you thought possible, cock spearing into you, tears swelling across your half-shut eyes. The feeling, the pain, too good to ask him to stop, but so overwhelming you can feel every thought, every instinct, every other feeling, leave your body with every thrust.

Joel’s all you know. He’s all you want to know.

Your legs start to give, and he places his rough hands on your waist to hold you up, pumping in and out of you at a punishing pace.

“Joel…” you whine.

“I know, baby, I know. I’m there, too.”

You feel his weight pushing on the back of your thighs and open your eyes to see him leaning over you, hands placed either side of your head. You lace your fingers with his and let him fuck you, totally mindless to everything around you except for the man at your ass, pummeling his dick inside you so deep your cunt is aching.

It pushes you over the edge.

Your walls squeeze his dick, threatening to pull him over with you. Your vision blanks for the third time tonight; what energy you have left is poured into the filthy cry which escapes your lips as Joel’s hard cock splits you open.

“So tight, baby, good fuckin’ girl.”

Joel begins to falter, his thrusts become sloppy, and he pushes your ass off of him so not to finish inside you. You kinda feel disappointed, wishing he’d just stay inside and fill you to the brim with his cum.

Joel gives himself a couple more strokes before you feel his seed coat your ass, warm, dripping down the small of your back and the underside of your thighs.

You moan at the feeling of him spilling all over you, the grunts he lets slip as his orgasm washes over him. You smile dumbly at the thought that you’re the one doing this to him; you’re the one covered in his cum. You’re his, even if it’s only in this moment.

He’s panting behind you. He almost collapses on top of your back, propping himself on his elbows to keep some of his weight off.

He gently leans down and nuzzles his nose against your ear, eliciting a quiet giggle from you.

“You okay?” he breathes.

You nod. “Better than okay.”

“You sore?”

“A little.”

“Baby…” he coos, and pushes himself up.

You sigh as his weight leaves you, and you hear his footsteps pad into the kitchen. You stay put, in part to keep from staining Joel’s couch with…well, Joel, but mostly because you’re too fucked-out to even move. Too fucked to feel your thighs, your back, never mind between your legs.

Joel returns with paper towel, and softly wipes from your back to your thighs, cleaning up his mess. He massages your muscles as he goes, and your eyes shut over with the sweet feeling.

When he’s done, he rolls you over and takes hold of your ankle, pulling you down the leather to his grasp, where he puts his tee over your head and helps you feed your arms through the sleeves. The Rangers logo sits just below your chest.

He pulls his boxers back on, before taking your outstretched arms and scooping you up in his. Your head falls limp in the crook of his neck, his arms wrapped securely around your waist.

He carries you, completely dazed and fucked, out of the living room and upstairs. He makes a right at the top, down the dim hallway, past the same closet he went down on you in just two days ago, toward a door at the end. He knocks it open and takes you through.

Even in your half-sleeping state, you know exactly where you are. You’re in Joel’s bedroom.

You’ve been in here before, maybe only a couple times, when Sarah’s needed something or you’ve accompanied your dad to help repair something for Joel, but it feels different now.

It’s dark, the sun almost set on the other side of the house and the streetlights’ glow a burning orange right above Joel’s headboard.

He carries you over to the left side of the bed and lays you down in his soft sheets. He tucks you under the comforter and bends to place a long, tender kiss on top of your head.

You begin to swim in and out of sleep, waking to find him folding your clothes into a neat pile by the bedside, then again to watch him set a glass of water on the nightstand.

Your eyes are glued shut with exhaustion when you feel him lift the duvet behind you and slip in, taking your waist under his forearm and pulling you flush against his frame.

You listen to the faint sound of a cell phone dialing, and then hear his voice; soft, hushed, but still normal Joel.

“Hey, man. Yeah, no, everything’s fine. We were pretty late finishin’ up with these decorations, and then The Shining was on TV, so we stayed up to watch it. She’s pretty exhausted. I let her take Sarah’s room, I hope that’s okay?”

Your dad’s voice is faint down the line as you begin to drop off in Joel’s arms.

“Sure thing, thanks, Joel. You kick her out first thing, you hear? Don’t want her holdin’ you up for gettin’ Sarah.”

When you hear him slide his cell back onto his nightstand, you mumble something incoherent into his arm.

“What, darlin’?” Joel asks, head lifting to hear you better.

“I said, great welcome home party. Thanks.”

His lips press lightly on your shoulder, his breath hot on your skin. Whatever it is he says, you don’t hear it, already long gone to a deep, comfortable sleep.

----------

taglist: @yvonneeeee @subconsciouscollapse @leahlovestwd @peqchsoup @whorror-s @k1ttybean @whichwitchwanda @abuttoncalledsmalls @anner--nanner @jpbplvr @laysmt @ankhmutes @bookishhella @cannolighost @luvrking @mellymbee @yourwinchesterbros @nostalxgic @scottstotts @daiseygriffithx @letsgroovetonighttt @huffle-punk @unbotheredbeeeee @iluvurfather @wildcat116 @godisawomansblog @55vvaa55 @koshkaj-blog @initforthebooks @theywhowriteandknowthings @thatgirljayy@sasakipsposts @casa-boiardi @milla-frenchy @aim-formyheart @taeslarityy @lxstbxyscave23 @joelmillerxapologist @capt-rex @earthtogrogu @serenaxpedro @brittmb115 (lmk if i've missed you out & check my taglist info for how to be added!)

#joel miller #joel miller fic #dbf!joel #dbf!joel miller #joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou #tlou fic #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal joel miller #cowboy like me

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messyhairdiaz · 1 year

Text

two plus two equals

A 6x13 coda. Mostly word vomit. Enjoy(?)

Buck’s sous chef abandons him as soon as the cookies are done. He takes one look at the meat and vegetables Buck is pulling out to prep, declares that boring cooking, snatches a cookie so warm it droops in his hand and goes to the living room to finish his book for his class’s reading challenge.

Buck doesn’t mind, the cookies were the fun part, after all, and he likes that Christopher is comfortable enough in his space to just go hang out and ignore him.

So he chops and seasons and sears, and after a while Christopher wanders back over to supervise until he gets bored again and asks if he can watch TV now that he’s finished his book. Buck agrees and pretends he doesn’t see another cookie disappear from the cooling rack.

He’s so focused on not over-cooking the asparagus that he doesn’t notice Eddie’s arrival until he speaks.

“Hi honey, I’m home,” Eddie says, an unmistakably joking tone, but his voice is still as soft as ever. A softness that seems to be reserved only for those in this apartment.

Buck shoots a smile over his shoulder. “Hey. Dinner’s almost done.”

Eddie nods and comes into the kitchen. He glances into the living room where Christopher’s so glued to the television he hadn’t even noticed his father’s arrival. “Oh good, he finished his book,” Eddie says, and it spreads warmth through Buck’s chest that Eddie didn’t even question if Buck just let him watch TV without doing his homework. The trust Eddie has that Buck will just do the right thing for Christopher…It takes Buck’s breath away if he thinks about it for too long.

He turns back to the food, cursing when he sees the asparagus is on the verge of burning. He hears Eddie puttering around behind him while he salvages the vegetables, and then Eddie speaks up again.

“Buck, there are three cookies missing from this rack.”

“Three?” Buck practically squawks, spinning around. He looks at the incriminating third empty spot on the rack, mouth open to defend himself until he looks up at Eddie and his gaze catches on the tiny smear of chocolate on his bottom lip. “Hmm. Might want to wipe your mouth before you go pointing fingers.”

Eddie grins, a bright, beautiful thing, before darting his tongue out to collect the chocolate. Buck turns back to the stove and tells himself the heat on his face is from the pan in front of him.

He opens his mouth to ask Eddie to set the table, but Eddie’s already there, pulling out three of everything. Half the sets, because everything Buck bought came in sets of six. He doesn’t know if that means anything. He feels like it should. Maybe it just means he needs to rotate the stacks in his cabinets so half the sets aren’t getting all the wear and tear.

He won’t though. Later they’ll wash these dishes together, and he’ll put the three plates on top of the three left in the cabinet, the three glasses in front of the three collecting dust, three forks on top in the drawer. Maybe those three forks will tarnish faster, maybe the color will fade from the plates, maybe a glass will get chipped.

He likes the idea that Eddie and Christopher are so intertwined in his life that they could wear out his dishes. It brings to mind the comfort of sagging blue couch cushions.

He smiles to himself as he plates up their food. If he’s always viewed his life as one big equation, and now he’s good at math, maybe it means the solution is right in front of him.

#911 spoilers #911 fic #6x13 coda #Buddie #buckley diaz family #seriously idk if this is good or not I wrote it in a fugue state #my fic #tumblr ficlets

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jjkeverlast · 10 months

Note

OHNMY GOD LATI CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR MILESTONE!!! so so happy for you 🥹🩷🩷 i have a request 👀 can you please write something with prompt: character c: "you guys act like an old married couple." character a and b in sync: "WE ARE NOT A COUPLE." and with jungkook? 🥹

heart won't let me | jjk

>> pairing roommate!jk x fem!reader

>> genre/au's roommate AU | 'enemies' to lovers | wedding AU | crack | inspired by new girl

>> summary living with jungkook hasn't been the easiest task, but things become revealed when you both accompany taehyung to a wedding.

>> word count 1.4k

>> warnings mutual pining | lots of bickering | ft. roommate taehyung

>> author's note hi babyyyy!! thank you for requesting, i hope you enjoy this ball of crack and fluff! <3

[keep in mind that i do not have taglists for request, and prompts are marked in bold! thank you.]

“Jeon fucking Jungkook!” You scream at the top of your lungs when you realize that he decided to put the empty milk carton back in the fridge. This was not how you wanted your morning to go.

Jungkook trails in, whistling carelessly to make your blood boil as you almost crush the carton between your hands out of anger.

“You called?” He grins, fixing his black cap.

You suck in a deep breath, closing your eyes to keep your emotions albeit. “Care to explain to me why there’s no milk left?” You’re smiling, despite your voice laced with pure irritation.

“I finished it?” He answers, pointing out the obvious answer.

“Oh, fuck you!” You aggressively shove the carton in the trash bin, wanting to leave the kitchen immediately and get Jungkook’s stupid grin out of your face.

He lets you, leaning on the counter as he watches you stomp your feet all towards your room.

For you to not let your anger get the worst of you, you grab your wallet, settling on going to the nearest café to grab coffee. After all, coffee is out of the question after Jungkook was extremely inconsiderate.

Ever since you moved in with Jungkook and Taehyung, it was hard to like Jungkook. Whatever he did threw you off, and from day one he gave you the worst impression to date. Therefore, you grew closer with Taehyung and preferred to stay at home when Taehyung was there.

It was always difficult to maintain a conversation with Jungkook without it going south and ending with ridiculous banter. But then again, you can’t click with everyone, and that was the case for you and Jungkook, you simply didn’t.

After grabbing your coffee, you returned home shortly after having to get ready for the third wedding this week. Taehyung worked at a firm with way too many engaged co-workers, and he didn’t want to face each wedding alone so he forced you and Jungkook to join him.

“Guys! Come on, we need to leave in five minutes.” Taehyung shouts by the hallway, impatiently waiting for you and Jungkook to step out of your rooms.

With a last look in the mirror, you open your door joining Taehyung. Jungkook follows right behind you, running his hands through his slicked back hair. You look behind you and sadly, you must admit — Jeon Jungkook looks fucking great. His piercings compliment each other. His suit all black. You gulp down, ignoring the attraction you feel for him. If Jungkook didn’t open his mouth, you’d consider him as someone with potential. Sadly, that’s not the reality you’re met with.

The venue is incredibly beautiful, chandeliers decorating the ceiling while flowers surround the staircases. It’s not overly crowded, but there are many and that seems to make Jungkook nervous. You notice how he bites down on his bottom lip, tongue playing with his lip piercing.

Taehyung mentioned once or twice that Jungkook never liked big crowded spaces, preferring to stay at home in his own space. Despite his struggles, he still holds his composure, going through the evening along with you and Taehyung.

Everything was going remotely great — Jungkook wasn’t being annoying and you hadn’t felt angry since this morning. Taehyung was having a wonderful time, taking a bit too long at the bar, the bartender giggling at his flirty ministrations.

Jungkook and you stand awkwardly next to one another, sipping on cocktails and looking around until there’s a woman’s voice speaking through speakers.

“It’s time for couple’s games! Your partner for this evening is the person standing next to you, let’s see who wins!”

Fuck.

“Well.” Jungkook lets out, coughing a bit to ease down the tension that just doesn’t want to budge anytime soon.

“All right, let’s just do this.” You grab his arm, leading him to the main room where people have been placed on different tables. At each table there’s some newspapers and tape, along with a piece of paper with the rules.

“Build a table with only newspaper and tape. The table that is able to hold a book, wins.” You read out loud, while Jungkook is grabbing the tape and newspaper, studying it as if he’s never seen the items before.

“All right, hand me the tape.” You instruct, having an idea of how you could make this work.

“No, you hold the newspaper and I’ll use the tape.” Jungkook retorts, feeling keen on keeping it.

You exhale loudly, trying not to grow irritated. Instead you comply, starting to fold the newspapers.

As expected, the activity turns into yet another bickering session between the two of you. Jungkook used way too much tape, not letting you finish your own task of crumbling the newspaper.

“Seriously, Jeon! Stop, move that fucking tape away.” You move your hands in the air, anger lashing out completely.

“Can you stop crumbling the newspaper?! How can we make a table when this looks like a trash bag?!” Jungkook throws back, trying to push you aside with his shoulders to take over the task.

“Jungkook, I swear to god I will—” Your voice is cut off when the woman observing the activities walks by.

“You guys act like a married couple.” She speaks truthfully trying to calm you both down with a ridiculous joke.

“We are not a couple!” You and Jungkook shout back in unison.

“Well, you sure do work like one.” She responds, making you and Jungkook grow confused by her statement, up until—

“Everyone. We have a winning couple, congratulations!” She speaks into her microphone, all heads turning towards you and Jungkook.

“We won?! That’s ridiculous, this table can’t even hold a book.” You grab onto the book placed on the table, having it ready to throw down and to get the whole crowd laughing. Although, that doesn’t exactly happen when the book lands flatly on the hideous table.

“I—”

“Not only is it a strong table, but a strong couple!” Everyone cheers, you and Jungkook trying not to stare at each other, discomfort reaching every inch of you the longer people cheer.

Thankfully, it doesn’t last longer than that because everyone is called for the rest of the wedding. The discomfort has turned into sickness and you run out of the venue, in desperate need of air.

Jungkook is left behind, stranded completely but saved by Taehyung who managed to get the number from the very cute bartender.

“Where’s Y/N?” Taehyung asks.

"She left.” Jungkook breathes out, feeling empty.

“What happened?” Jungkook then decides to tell Taehyung everything.

“You’re telling me there was a perfect opportunity for you to admit you’ve been in love with her for years, and you let her leave?! You’re an idiot, Jeon Jungkook.”

Taehyung is right, Jungkook is an idiot. He needs to tell you, immediately.

“Go after her, or I will.” Taehyung pushes, Jungkook nibbling on his bottom lip, considering if he should and fuck it.

He starts running, never stopping, thankfully grabbing a cab on the way.

The apartment feels empty when Jungkook walks in, until he hears clattering sounds coming from the kitchen. Okay, here goes nothing.

“Oh, hey.” You say when you spot Jungkook walking in awkwardly.

“Hey, so about earlier, I–” Oh god, no. Jungkook can’t do it, no. Why did he ever think he could do it? Shit.

“Crazy right? I mean, us a couple? That’s…” Your eyes trail south, starting to ponder on why you felt so many butterflies in your stomach when the woman wouldn’t keep her mouth shut about you and Jungkook having great potential as a couple.

“Crazy, yeah.” Jungkook agrees, although his voice seems to give out something entirely different.

Maybe it’s the silence that draws you closer, or just how you haven’t stopped thinking of what if’s with you and Jungkook. This is crazy, you guys can’t stand each other and yet—

“I have to tell you something.”

“Are you finally going to apologize for taking the rest of the milk?” Jungkook’s brows furrow at your answer, biting back a smile, instead settling on rolling his eyes.

“Take me seriously for a minute, please.” Jungkook then steps closer, his feet almost touching yours.

“Okay.” You whisper, letting him speak.

“Listen, I know you don’t like me and that I annoy every fiber in you, but—” Jungkook sucks in a breath. “I really, really like y—”

You don’t let him finish, surging forward to kiss him. His lips feel soft against yours, moving in sync as you breathe out. Despite it being short, your lips tingle when you remove yourself from Jungkook’s grasp.

“You didn’t even let me finish!” Jungkook shouts angrily, while you’re trying your hardest not to stifle a laugh.

“Just shut up and kiss me, you idiot.” Jungkook rolls his eyes, grabbing your waist and giving you his all.

It was only a moment of time until one of you gave in and confessed, you’re just glad it was Jungkook. That means one to you and zero to him.

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook imagine #jungkook drabble #jungkook fluff #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook one shot #jungkook bts #jungkook x reader #bts fanfic

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boliv-jenta · 5 months

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Empty Nester Husband x wife reader.

Not a RPF, just a character inspired by this look.

Warnings: self doubt. Dry spell. Unprotected P in V sex.

Summary: Your husband tries to breathe some life back into your sex life.

That Fur Coat

“Are you sure about this?” He tucked the tight white vest back into his jeans from where it had popped out during his last pose.

“Yes! You look great! Your wife will love it.” Mandy the very upbeat, and very young, photographer reassured him.

With a slight grumble under his breath, he tugged the heavy fur coat back on to his broad shoulders, ignoring the nagging ache in the base of his spine. The rest of the photo shoot went smoothly. Not that he agreed with any of Mandy's outfit choices. She assured him he looked handsome, sexy even. All he saw was an ageing guy trying to look cool.

A week later when the photo book arrived, he was glad his wife was out. Taking the parcel from the delivery guy, thanking him and closing the door, he ran upstairs and into their bedroom. He sat staring at the innocently wrapped parcel like he had the school backpack that held the first nudie mag that his friend snuck out of his father's stash. His teeth troubled his plump bottom lip. He wondered what madness had overtaken him to think this was a good idea. He was so wrapped up in his thoughts he did hear his wife enter the room.

If you were honest and kind to yourself, the years hadn't been too bad on your figure. You could see all the parts your husband loved or he did love. That was a grey area at the moment. There was no doubt in your heart that he loved you. He was such an honest and affectionate man. His face held so much expression, and there was no way for him to hide his feelings for you. In turn, you still love him as much as you did when you married young and had your children. Both of whom had now left for college. Leaving you and your husband in a big empty house with all the alone time you could want. Maybe that's how this dry spell started. Sneaking around to have sex when the kids were around was fun. Now that you have ample opportunity, it feels like an expectation. Now that you had time and space, things should be hotting up, right? Rolling your eyes at your reflection, you held up the silk Teddy to your body. You felt like a walking cliche. The middle-aged housewife trying to spice things up. No, that wasn't a cliche. Marriage takes work. All aspects of it. If dropping fifty bucks on some naughty lingerie to prance around in did the job, so be it. Your husband's car was still in the drive when you got home. The house was quiet when you opened the door. Assuming he was busy in his new home office, you crept upstairs to put away your purchases.

“I wasn't expecting you home.” He gripped the package on his lap as he stood quickly.

“I only wanted a couple of things.” You shrug trying to casually place your bags on your dresser.

“I see.” The nerves in his voice worried you.

“Are you alright? You sound upset.” You step toward him as he sunk onto the bed.

Twenty something years together and he still haven't learned to hide things from you.

The lines around his eyes deepened as he laughed. “Yeah. I just…I got you a present. It's stupid. I just should have talked to you.”

“About what?” Your hand thread into his without you even realising.

“Our little dry spell.” He gave your hand a squeeze.

It was your turn to laugh. “You mean the thing I spent over two hundred dollars on buying scraps of material that barely constitute underwear?”

“Two hundred? Why? You know seeing you in my old t-shirts does it for me just fine.”

“It hasn't lately.”

“I know. That's on me. I've been in my own head. Our sex life has always been great even when we had to put cartoons on for the kids and fuck in the utility room. It's just been so long since we could just be us. I guess I put too much pressure on it.”

“That pretty much sums it up. You always know the right thing to say.”

“I wished I'd known that before I did this.” Tearing open the package he handed you a black book with ‘For My Darling Wife’ etched in gold on the front cover.

“What's this?” You smiled.

With an exaggerated huff he dropped his face into his hands. “Just…look.”

The pages were filled with glossy photographs of your husband in all sorts of sexy outfits. You'd always thought he was sexy but the persona he took on in the photographs took your breath away. He reminded you of the hot tempered teen your husband once was. The dark look on his face made it look like he was ready to devour you.

“Wow. These are…”

“Stupid. I know.”

“...hot.”

“What? You like them?”

“Why wouldn't I? You look sexy, Baby.”

A bashful smirk played on his lips. “Really?”

“Absolutely. Maybe you could throw on a white vest and jeans while I slip into my overpriced scraps?”

In the end it did matter what you wore. You both ended up naked. The two of you curled up together as he gently thrust into you from behind. Barely half his cock could press inside you in that position. It was still enough. He took his time stretching you around his girth, his finger giving your clit long drawn out strokes. There was no rush, no worry of interruptions. Just the two of you stoking each other's bliss. When he felt you getting closer, his pace quickened.

Pulling his hair you teased in his ear. “Are you going to fuck me like a fur coat wearing rockstar?”

“It depends. Are you going to take it like a skimpy lingerie wearing slut?” Any self conscious concerns he had about his body melt away as he rolled you on your front and watched his cock disappear inside you. He might be older, not old, but it didn't mean he couldn't get the job done. The screams of his name as he drove his cock home proved that. A thought occurred to him that hadn't in years, he pulled out and jerked his load all over your ass. “Fuck. Now that is worthy of a picture.”

A playful swot to your ass made you giggle until the cum on the swell of your ass dripped down between your cheeks caused you to hiss.

“Cold?” He flopped down next to you absently drawing shapes on your bare back.

“Hmmm. Worth it.” You bite your lip at him.

Cupping your face, he teases your lip out with his thumb only to suck it in between his own teeth. A gentle bite is soon soothed by a swipe of his tongue.

“Let's never go too long without doing this again. I missed you.”

“I missed you, too. At least I have something to keep me company if we do have another dry spell.” You look past him to the book on the side table. “I can't believe you did that for me.”

“You know I'd do anything for you.” Rolling on his back he pulled you onto his chest. The light sheen on sweat making you stick to him didn't bother you. It was nice to revel in him again. The touch of his smooth skin. His scent.

“Anything?” He hums as you kiss his chest. “Do you think you can get a hold of that fur coat?”

#pedro pascal character fanfiction #more esquire photo shoot horniness

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filthforfriends · 11 months

Text

Chapter 14

Alpha!Damiano Omegaverse

Read chapter 1-13 on my Masterlist

This is just self-indulgent fluff and smut, but next chapter has plot, I promise.

This morning was the type of event that would prompt basically any alpha-omega pair to knot. Including long term relationships where knotting outside of rut was subsequently rare. When a mate’s well-being has been endangered, sometimes that connection is the only thing that alleviates the emotional anguish. The borders of individuality blur during a knot. If I am part of you, then I can be absolutely positive that you are okay. If I am part of you, then I know you are safe.

You’re aware this is how you’re supposed to feel, but sex couldn’t sound less alluring. Damiano clearly disagrees. He strips without prompting, cock hardening from just the prospect of love making. This visual alone should be sufficiently arousing, and yet there isn’t a spark of sensation between your legs. This would be the first time you said no to sex. It was bound to happen at some point, but this particular relationship milestone couldn’t have chosen worse timing. You find yourself trying to figure out why. He’s gorgeous with his hair pulled back, all the harsh angles juxtaposed by the gentle curve of his bottom lip and those big, round eyes.

“Would you like me to take your clothes off?” Damiano asks with a smirk. He raises a single eyebrow and saunters towards you. Nothing. Like someone had clicked the off switch.

“Can I have a hug?”

“Of course you can have a hug,” he scoffs, eyebrows knitted like the request is ridiculous. Dami’s embrace brings you onto your tiptoes. Instead of having you lean forward, he moves completely into your personal space. Immediately, both hands are under your top, his warm skin sliding against yours. Touch wasn’t the issue, in fact it felt wonderful and relaxing. It was a welcome reminder that all the chatter was in passing, but permanent were your two bodies, bound together.

You keep your face pressed against Dami’s shoulder, avoiding pulling away for as long as possible. Because then there’ll be kissing and the expectation of slick, or at least something. Damiano takes it upon himself to keep the ball rolling, fingers unclasping your bra. You move back so suddenly that he’s worried he hurt you somehow.

“I don’t wanna,” you blurt.

“You don’t wanna…what?” His confusion isn’t misplaced, considering you’ve never offered less than enthusiastic consent.

“After all the crying, I don’t feel like it.” You step back and begin rubbing the accidental smudge of permanent marker on your thumb.

“Say it so I know you feel like you can,” he requests, softly.

“I don’t want to have sex right now.”

“Is it because I smell different?” He fails at masking his devastation.You try to determine if the presence of his normal musk would change your mind. Separating everything so it could be properly examined felt impossible.

“I don’t feel like a sexual being right now and I’m not sure if anything could change that headspace.”

“Okay.” Dami nods with a poker face. “Well, I will put pants on.” Something pulls inside you, not from your cunt, but in your stomach. It’s the sensation of really, truly missing someone, the need to be closer.

“Mm – wait!” As soon as he turns, you throw yourself back into Damiano’s arms. He loudly kisses your head during the lengthy embrace. You rock side to side and a tepid hand cups your lower back under the uniform. He worried you’ll think he’s ignoring your wishes. You hum in contentment and kiss his neck so Dami is reassured that all is well.

“I am all for the standing and hugging, but do you want to cuddle and watch a movie or nap, or…?

“I don’t know...” As soon as you release Dami, that empty feeling is back. “Ugh, what the fuck is wrong with me right now?”

“Nothing, baby. You are under no obligation to –”

“I know, it's not that. I just feel…uncomfortable in my own skin.” He hums in acknowledgment and turns towards the dresser, pulling out a pair of sweatpants. Damiano is holding his tongue, but he changes subject before you have the chance to interrogate.

“What about a new nickname?” He flops down on the bed and you crawl up the mattress to meet him. Touch still careful, Dami runs a hand along your back and over to your hip. His gaze stays fixed in that region for several seconds, so you answer to distract him.

“I hadn’t thought about a replacement to be honest.”

“We don’t have to think of one,” he assures.

“No, no, I like it during…when I’m feeling a certain way. It sounds more natural than my name.” He could also just address you with the customary title “omega,” but that felt wrong too. Not to mention that adhering to customs was the antithesis of your personal philosophy. You didn’t want to be alpha and omega as society dictated, but instead Dami and…something.

“In Italian, are there pet names?”

“Oh my god, so many. There's…leprotta, topolina, pulcina.” You could listen to Damiano pronounce his R’s and T’s all day.

“What do those mean?”

“Leprotta is bunny. Topolina means little mouse and pulcina means, um, chick.” You shake your head with an expression of displeasure. “Too cutesy?”

“Definitely.”

“Well, my grandmother calls Sandro orsetto and me tigrotto which means little bear and little tiger.” Those names make you perk up before the reality of the association sets in.

“Won’t you think of your grandmother then?” Damiano makes a face of disgust. “Yeah, exactly. I like those though.”

“Piccola just means little one.” You ponder on that diminutive for a moment. It could only be used in Italian because the possibility of him saying it in front of another person makes you preemptively cringe.

“Maybe…”

“That’s also pretty cutesy. Ah, okay, there's leoncina and lupina. Little lion, or I guess little lioness, and little wolf. Yeah?” You watch Dami’s expression change to one of excitement as he speaks. The both of you can feel those fit better.

“So in English that’d be cub or, um…”

“Pup.” Pup was a feeling that always landed you in headspace. It was a word you associated with submission, but not submission for the sake of it. To be Damiano’s pup was to be under his protection, to be safe, carefree. Pups weren’t expected to say and do the right thing. Pups were still learning. Everybody knew that a pup couldn't guard itself, couldn’t take care of itself.

“So you’re my pup then?” You nod and melt onto Dami’s chest. “You’re my little wolf. My little, baby wolf.” The throaty whine you omit is just an effort to externalize the swell of internal pressure. For the same reason your feet flex and hands strangle the pillow under Damiano’s head.

“I feel like your pup,” you confess.

“I can tell. You’re squirming around like a puppy.”

“I think I want a knot, but it’s like my body doesn’t want sex,” you groan in discomfort at housing such a contradiction.

“I could give you a knot and we could just cuddle.” You prop yourself up, legs still entangled with Dami’s.

“You’d do that? What about the blue balls?” He smirks knowingly.

“Well I’d have to complete my normal morning routine and wait 10 minutes.”

“Morning routine?” He’d definitely brushed his teeth. The glass of bright orange juice on the try catches your eye and you realize neither of you had eaten. With a metabolism like Dami’s, he was probably starving and sex would burn calories he hadn’t yet ingested.

“I’m definitely hungry to,” you shrug, sliding off of the bed to retrieve the tray. It was such a sweet thoughtful thing for Matteo to do. He knew you were coming to his house unannounced and he knew you’d be hungry.

“Your dad’s kinda the best mmm,” you eat half of a sandwich in about three bites and drink all the juice in a single go.

“Yeah, this was really great of him,” Dami agrees through a mouthful of eggs. Thankfully, you’d skipped the Trying to Not Look Like Hyenas When You Eat stage in the relationship. Plus teasing Dami for getting crumbs in his underdeveloped facial hair was way too much fun. (Unless Sandro pitched in at which point he’d get a little sensitive).

“Something on my face?” he mumbles with a full mouth, left hand coming to brush off the usual suspects.

“Not this time.” He sets his utensils on the tray and moves it to his desk. Hands on his hips, Damiano thoroughly chews his last bite while conscientiously piecing his next sentence together.

“Making sure you eat, I should have instigated that, but it's not um…” he gestures towards his head, “not what I had in mind when I said morning routine. See, usually I, I –” he looks down to his still partially erect cock.

“Masturbate! Babe, you didn’t have to make it into charades.” He blushes, now looking at his feet.

“So I’m gonna do that.” Damiano gestures of the shoulder with his thumb. The fact that he wanted to jerk off in the bathroom so you didn’t feel pressured was adorable.

“Alternatively, I could sit on your lap with my top off and play with your hair. Maybe kiss your neck?”

“Hnnngg oh, fuck yes.” He scrambles back up the bed, shedding his sweats on the way. You straddle his lap and allow Damiano to enthusiastically undress you. There's a pause, once you’re topless and he’s naked, but self-conscious about going straight into violently wanking. You almost tell him to get on with it before coming up with a better idea. Gathering all the saliva to the front of your mouth, you spit onto his dry cock. A trail of saliva connects your lips and his groin for a few seconds. Once that breaks, so does the spell that held him in a pause. Damiano whimpers with abandon and damn near strangles his shaft.

Right away, you have to sit up and support your own weight, since resting on him was about as steady as breaking a wild mare. Damiano rolls his hips, thrusts his pelvis, changing how he’s getting off every 10 seconds. Of course he doesn’t have to decide, because there's no one else requiring consistent stimulation. His facial features twitch, eyes unable to decide on being open or closed.

First, you carefully untwist the elastic from his hair, letting it fall. You run your nails over his scalp and through his undercut. One hand curls pieces around your finger and another massages his ear. You run the shell of Dami’s ear between your index and middle, then rub the cartilage, before finally pulling on his earlobe. Making the most of your cleavage, you put both arms around his neck and hunch your shoulders forward. Dami manages to focus his gaze for a moment and presses his face to your breasts. He makes a few warped sounds of pleasure and you feel jizz hit your stomach. Damiano kept pulling on his cock far past when you would’ve stopped. Even after the ejaculation, he stroked himself to over-stimulation.

That had to be under two minutes. Now with both hands free, he encircles your mid-back, keeping you close enough to have his face against your boobs.

“Dami, I come bearing terrible news. You can’t stay with your face between my titties forever.” He bemoans this theatrically.

“Just a little longer,” he whines. You scoff and allow it, stroking his hair. A few seconds pass and Dami lets out the heaviest, most burdened sigh and sits up like his head weighs 100 pounds.

“I know that was hard for you, but at least you made great time.”

“You don’t get to make fun of me for finishing fast if it's not inside you,” he groans, turning red anyways.

“It was a compliment! That was very efficient.” He rolls his eyes with a smile and releases you. It’s only so Damiano can lean back and watch his cum drip down your abdomen. You indulge this until the semen is nearing the waistband of your pants, at which point you wipe it off with a tissue. Dami pouts like you’ve told him he can’t have dessert before dinner and not as if he wanted to watch his cum dry on your skin.

“Let’s try something familiar to start, yeah?” Already aware of the position he’s referencing, you turn on your side. Damiano lays snuggly behind you and even pulls up the blanket. It feels so safe that you’re almost ready to slip into headspace, eyes slowly falling closed.

“I’m gonna put my hand between your legs, completely still. It’s just for pressure and warmth,” he narrates. Dami rubs your lower stomach, then dips his fingertips into your underwear. Rather than push a hand between your thighs, he waits for you to open your legs. You do so gradually and his touch moves at the same pace. After some adjustments, you get his hand in a comfortable spot that closely cups your vulva. It’s a really reassuring sensation, for the most vulnerable part of you to be guarded by your alpha.

“How’s that pup?” he whispers. You nod and sigh in contentment.

“Good, mhm.”

”This is just a gradual way to wake up your body.” Very lightly, Damiano scents you and rests two fingers on your bottom lip. It's gratifying to watch you submit despite not being penetrated. Allowing yourself to act out of instinct, you curl up for the sake of safety. It’d been such a terrifying morning, and while the day's events may not be in the forefront of your mind, you still vividly remember how they made you feel.

“Why is my little, baby wolf curling up against me?” Dami mirrors your body language so he remains just as close. He feels you take a breath and untense your muscles. The warm puff of air from the exhale hits the pads of his fingers.

“Pup, you are safe. I am your shield.” You go quiet for a couple minutes and he is trying to figure out your headspace when Damiano sees a weak hand making its way to his wrist. Usually, he’d help you along, but this time his own hands are occupied. Watching you struggle to reach his wrist is painful, but he needs to respect your autonomy. Finally, you push his hand forward, fingers breaching your lips. It was this funny little habit you’d developed to stay quiet, sucking on his index and middle finger while in headspace. He’d accidentally instigated it when Damiano touched your scent glands for the very first time.

“There you go, pup,” he murmurs. It turned out that this reassurance was what you needed to finally trust the urge to submit. Unfortunately, Damiano also needed his hand back because his wrist was aching. Since you were practically silent anyways, he figured it’d be a non-issue, but felt teeth when pulling away.

“Pup, what’re you doing?” he coos, and kisses your hairline. Dami’s careful not to interrupt omegan headspace by jostling you. Without sexual contact or much practice, the state was more meditative. You were just under the surface, relaxation anchored only by Damiano’s hands. So when he tries to remove his fingers from your mouth again, Damiano ends up hissing in pain because you bite down. Far more painful to endure was the forlorn, betrayed whine you release. All progress is lost and you curl up again, holding tighter to his wrist.

“Okay, okay, pup. It’s yours,” he whispers. Damiano puts his lips to your ear and hums. You can feel the music’s vibrations. It soothes your scattered thoughts and allows your focus to narrow. You imagine the sound waves making their way through space, unencumbered by the world’s stressors. Dami’s original objective was to get you purring, but now he’s centered on a pertinent, and perhaps more realistic goal; figure out why you’d become so attached to his hand in your mouth for these past few months.

Assuming the gesture was utilitarian, he’d never questioned it until now. It might be the only part of your sex lives you hadn’t discussed. However, Damiano could feel from your body’s lack of response that it wasn't sexually stimulating. It was about comfort, somehow, a way to regulate during headspace and that's why you couldn’t let go. It made sense, considering you never did this with your eyes open. You pulled his hand to your mouth on the way into headspace – which is why Damiano had begun just placing it there – and you rejected it while surfacing to consciousness.

“I’m curious about this little habit of yours, pup,” he muses. Up close, he could see the tiny movements your mouth made because you sucked in a rhythmic pattern, releasing intermittently. The mannerism was strongly reminiscent of something he couldn’t quite recall. He could just ask later, but you might not even be aware of the behavior. Damiano imagines trying to explain that you suck on his fingers to self-sooth. You’d be embarrassed, maybe even squirm around, like today when he called you pup for the first time

I feel like your pup. Dami had assumed you meant that the name “pup” fit well in your dynamic, but it might have been literal. He admires your profile, finally a peace, and realizes your mouth is moving because you’re not sucking, you’re suckling. He’s almost overcome with a wave of protectiveness, since there's no way to guard you more than he is right now, even though he fucking needs to make you safer. Spooning, a hand between your legs and the other in your mouth – the only way to get closer is a knot. Damiano reminds himself that it is a decision made both ways and tries to calm down.

Feeling the drastic change in his body language, you begin to stir. The very glandular progress between your legs speeds up as you ascend towards consciousness. At the same time, you reject Dami’s fingers, turning your head one way and pushing his hand another. He winces while flexing his wrist, and the stiff joint makes a clicking sound.

In an attempt to get more comfortable, you turn onto your back, feebly pushing the restrictive elastic waistband of your uniform down and grunting at the effort. Damiano uses both hands to finish the task for you. At this point in the relationship, guiding words for physicality aren’t necessary. Because he was the only partner you’d explored headspace with, there weren’t any left over mannerisms from another relationship that he had to decipher. Dami had personally overseen the entire evolution of your relationship with omegan headspace. Subsequently, he could read your body language, your vocalizations, and even your energy with near complete accuracy.

Near being the operative word today. The day he’d figured out that your subconscious perceived him as such a nurturing and protective figure, that you were nursing. Or rather, going through the motions of nursing as a way to self-soothe. Omegan headspace allows you to relinquish that pernicious hold on self-awareness. Upon which, your first instinct is to seek a feeling of profound safety, and you trusted him to provide that. You felt like Damiano’s pup because Damiano felt like your guardian.

“What’er ya thinkin’?” you ask, before turning to press your face against Dami’s skin, laying on your right side. When he doesn’t answer, you halfway pull him on top of you, trying to absorb that golden, radiant heat into your own skin. It felt like the beginnings of a sunburn and also served to pull Damiano out of his head. To your surprise, when your eyes finally open, he’s beaming, not pensive.

“Hey,” you croak, chin tilting up for a kiss. Of course he obliges and keeps it gentle, almost chaste. When you look up after parting, he’s already gazing down at you in adoration, wearing a full smile.

“You’re in a good mood.”

“I am,” he confirms warmly. “But how else could I feel, with you all to myself, precious lupina.” Kiss.

“Fuck taking space.” Dami snorts, but nods in agreement.

“Jay hasn’t mentioned it since.” Kiss. “So maybe he rehid the body and Clem can’t blackmail him anymore.”

“I really would have been happy to lend him a tarp if he’d just asked.” Damiano giggles and scents you, nuzzling against your profile. You know he could keep going until the entire room was heavy with pheromones and you smell like a I Belong to Damiano billboard. To prevent the cloudiness of mind, you break his focus. Kiss.

“I love you.” Kiss.

“And I love you,” kiss, “little wolf.” Now you’re the one beaming, and every part of you knows that calling Damiano was the right thing. Less than two hours ago, it had seemed like that fear and misery would do more than take its pound of flesh. it would erode your self-image until there was no y/n left. That was the only way out before Dami’s presence. Of course you knew that he was here to protect you from monsters, but never had you considered those monsters would be ones of your own making.

“I can feel my vagina again.”

“That is one of the more unique ways I’ve been propositioned.” Damiano turns over, reaching towards his nightstand on the right side of the bed. He opens the drawer, pulls out a clear plastic bottle with a blue cap, and lays down, situating a pillow under his head.

“Well, get over here.” He grabs your left upper thigh and hauls you across the bed with a grunt, positioned with your hips above his own, and your bent knee level with his ribcage. Damiano rests a wandering hand on the top of your ass while the other shakes the bottle to disperse the contents towards the cap.

“Actually you’re gonna want to take off your underwear.” You oblige while trying to read the stylized writing on the label, also in blue. Dami sets it on the counter and puts his hair up. You hum in appreciation and resume the previous position: chest to chest with your other leg relaxed along his side. It's so comfortable with the skin to skin contact that you could fall asleep like this, if not for the spear digging into the crook of your thigh. Everytime you shift, Damiano’s eyes flutter from the modicum of stimulation.

“This would be easier if you had less distracting thighs,” he pants, kneading the dimpled tissue below the crease of your glute. At any given time, this area bore a teeth mark or two because someone had a particularly strong pursuit predation instinct. Laying on your stomach was the comfiest way to do homework, but you’d learned your lesson about doing so around Dami with bare legs. Still, sometimes he was out of the room for long periods of time or didn’t greet anyone upon arriving. You wrongfully assumed that you’d be able to hear the bedroom door opening, but Dami somehow became dead silent as he stalked across the room.

You fidgeted mindlessly while distracted with your AE notes, feet kicking, arches alternating between flexed and bent. All that movement only heightened Damiano’s prey drive. He couldn’t rest his weight on the mattress without you knowing, so as soon as he reached the edge of the bed, Damiano began the brief, but most exciting part of the pursuit. He pounced, scrambling up the mattress so quickly that you felt the weight shift and his teeth in your soft flesh simultaneously. Of course he didn’t actually hurt you, but the bastard loved to hear you squeal and then catch you when you tried to scamper away. Perhaps he enjoyed it even more when you snarled in retribution and tried to fight him off, knowing that his victory was inevitable.

When Damiano slips into headspace while chewing on his bottom lip, you realize what kind of sex he’d like to have. The kind that you could never explain to Gia, and would hesitate describing to Xiema, despite her also being an omega.

“I’m sorry.”

“What? No, no, no. If you don’t want a knot anymore that's fine.”

“I do, it’s just that I can tell that you…” He blushes and shakes his head.

“Mm-mm, no apologies.” Kiss. “We don’t do low-key very often. This is nice.” Dami’s eyes are drawn to his hand as it strokes up and down your flank. His other forearm again rests on your very low back/glutes.

“Look at my face,” you murmur. His eyes snap up and Damiano’s cheeks turn pinker. He’s bashful, but still grinning slyly.

“Wanted to give you a chance to have a complete thought.”

“Oh, uh.” He exhales shakily, avoiding your gaze because he’s flustered, but his eyes fall right back to where they were. “Dam!”

“You’re getting curvier and it's killing me,” he finally exclaims. “Your hips are wider and your boobs are – they’re, um…I can’t believe you had a growth spurt right after I marked you. It’s cruel.”

“I guess my clothes have been fitting differently,” you ponder.

“Yes! Yes they have!” he exclaims in near hysteria.

“I had to go up a size when Valera ordered my uniform. I just figured it was because you’re a damn good cook.” You pat his chest, tracing circles on his areola.

“I would like to think that my amatriciana contributed to such a wondrous thing.”

“Hmm, your amatriciana is a wondrous thing.”

“You are my wondrous thing,” he retorts, touch dipping between your legs. In different circumstances, you would tease Dami for being so damn corny, but in this one you are watching his reaction to the lack of slick. You’re wet, body responsive to his steadying or teasing touches, nothing else. Like a beta would be. No doubt he’s disappointed, but Damiano manages his expression and picks up the bottle from the nightstand.

“What potion are you about to put inside of me?”

“Lube,” he chuckles. “Haven’t you heard of –”

“Yes, I’ve heard of lube,” you scoff. “I’ve just never…”

“Seen it?” He cocks an eyebrow, squirting some onto his hand. Dami uses his thumb to coat his fingers and warm the gel.

“No, I just didn’t think you’d have some, since we – oh.” Of course he had a bottle left over from using it with past partners. Why hadn’t he thrown it out? To be fair, you were using said lube right now.

“I actually bought this for myself, since you shamed me for using lotion,” he emphasizes.

“Scented lotion, better known as a yeast infection,” you retort.

“A little cold,” Dami warns, before his fingers make contact with your hymen. He spreads the lube around and inside the bottom of your labia, then ventures slightly above the vagina. Everything is so slippery that he ends up accidentally dipping the tip of his finger inside. You collapse on his chest with a hum, taking a deep breath and relaxing against your alpha. Damiano has three freckles on the back of his neck, all around his spine. You tap each one then switch to teeth.

“Are you gnawing on me, pup?” Instead of an answer, you bite down and enjoy working the trapezius muscle between your teeth. Damiano pushes the first finger in all at once, not met with any resistance. Your mouth falls open and you drool on his shoulder.

“So relaxed,” he hums. “Good pup.”

“This can’t be a terribly flattering position.” You were just limply splaying across him, left leg resting on the mattress and hips relaxed and open. Damiano smacks your butt as a response, pulling the cheek up to get his fingers better access. With the right leg hiked up, it actually was a pretty flattering position.

“Wait, when did I get an ass?” When you look down, the curve of your butt actually blocks the view of Damiano’s left foot.

“I can’t believe you’re just now noticing that you’ve filled out. I can’t let my mind be unoccupied, because that’s all I’ll think about.” He’s visibly straining and you can’t help but giggle, stroking his undercut. “At breakfast, during class, and especially on the field. Oh my fucking god,” he whines with his eyes squeezed shut at an embarrassing memory.

“Increased blood flow.”

“So it's basically impossible to chill out. When I feel it happening I run as hard as I can so the blood will go elsewhere.” You imagine Dami during practice, trying not to get a boner and smirk.

“How did you go through half a bottle of lube in three weeks?” you tease. “Doesn’t sex help relieve some of it?”

“Au contraire,” he pulls you on top of him, with a grunt. “You make it worse.” Now your bent leg is hanging off of Damiano’s side – knee to foot comfortably cushioned by the duvet – and your straight leg has taken its place.

“Is this position we’re gonna have sex in? Cause anatomically…” Dami wraps both arms around your waist and turns to face you. Your thigh is clutched between his own, and his cock is nearly nudging your vulva. It’s like a hug, but so much more intimate. The position also makes you keenly aware of how not wet you are.

“I’ve always wanted to do this with you, but we’re so feral that…” Damiano bends his knees so he has a way to create momentum, shifting to get things just right. “It takes a bit of adjustment and half the time we’re having sex before we’re even horizontal,” he huffs, already a little breathless. The head of his cock cries drops of milky pre-cum as it bumps against your vulva. Viscous tears run down the tip and onto the ridge, where they fall to your thigh, hot and sticky.

Damiano gets the crook of his arm under your neck and his other hand steadies his shaft in a fist. You nod so he’s confident. The blushing, velvety head rubs between your legs, parting your labia to touch you more completely, spread open. Dami keeps the pressure firm, his skin is even softer than yours. When his cock slips against the lubricated area, he doesn’t penetrate like you’d expect. Damiano runs the tip up your vulva, smearing the lube and his now plentiful pre-cum.

You find yourself moving closer and shifting to further open your hips. It’s a subconscious reaction, but once you become aware of it you check for a smirk and find Dami’s expression extremely focused instead. Aided by direction from his hand, he rubs the prominent ridge of his cock along your clit. It felt so goddamn good internally that you hadn’t considered using the anatomy externally. This is evidenced by gasping and accidently pulling Damiano’s hair. He doesn’t break the stimulation, instead using his free hand to tug on your hair in order to bring your attention to it.

You switch to cupping his shoulder. Trying to bring yourself closer, and closer still, to the point that it’s ruining the angle. Damiano is forced to momentarily abandon his ministrations to reposition your hips.

“Hey. Hey.” He has to say it twice because you’re distracted, trying to figure out why he’s moving you around. Despite your efforts to the contrary, Dami had scented you quite thoroughly and your brain wasn’t working at full speed. Finally, he just lifts your chin.

“Do you want to bite me?” He shifts into headspace since his primary role has transitioned from caretaker towards sexual being.

“Yes.”

“Good.” There's the smirk. Damiano runs his cock down your cunt, pushing inside carefully. Only then do you become aware that he’d made you produce slick while your mind was focused on his touch rather than expectations.

“Holy shit, you did it.” Dami chuckles with one of those smiles you’d run into a burning building for.

“I didn’t – ughh,” he takes a breath before thrusting deeply, until he’s met resistance. Damiano titrates his force way down, observing the miniscule changes in your expression. It's a balancing act: enough pressure to open the parts of your body that had not yet realized they could relax, but not so much that it hurts.

“That was all you, little wolf,” he pants. Your breasts are just below chin level, each heaving breath bringing them closer to Dami’s face. He forgets everything at the sight of it, eyes falling to where you’re so voluptuous that the soft flesh puckers up between his fingers when he grips your thigh. From this angle, he can just barely see his cock disappearing into the pink rim of your cunt. Damiano puts everything into the next thrust, trying to bottom out while constricted by the walls of your pussy that react to every microscopic adjustment, every breath.

“Gotta relax,” he chokes, but you tense instead, throbbing around his cock. The combination of precum, slick, and lube drip over your stretched hymen, so plentiful that your body can afford to waste some. Finally, Damiano recognizes that your cunt is squeezing down on him the way it does when she needs a knot. There was a larger purpose to this intimacy than drooling over all the ways you curved.

“Ready, lupina?” Dami’s first instinct was to fend off the urge to knot with even more fervor than he fended off the urge to cum early. With you, it was always there, but typically both parties wanted “normal sex.” A knot was both a commitment to time, intensity, discomfort, and could even be counterproductive to pleasure. All the same, Damiano had to re-enforce his ability to hold back.

He’d had plenty of practice with other omegas, but your relationship made him feel 14 again. Three months without penetrative sex didn’t help matters either, since every molecule of his being was screaming for your bare skin. It was an entirely unexpected level of difficulty and Damiano consequently embarrassed himself on several occasions. If he held off the knot, he also came in a few minutes. If he did both, Dami would be forced to pull out until the urge to give you a knot was manageable again.

“Ready,” you whispered, face tickled by his hair. Today should have been as simple as following instincts. However, as the pressure swelled from groin to bollocks to shaft, Dami felt a wave of anxiety.

“Are you sure?” Indisputably, you are sure, looked it too. The point of no return was daunting to him only and Damiano wasn’t very good at approximating it either. Your lips kissed his sweaty forehead, hand squeezing his shoulder reassuringly. Thank god your choice never wavered when Dami would voice a final chance for you to refuse the knot. There’d been at least one occasion when he spoke too late. If you’d asked him to, Damiano couldn’t have pulled out no matter how intensely he may wish it. That thought haunted him.

It caused you pain each time. Since you hide nothing from him in these moments, Damiano could see it very plainly in your expression. Through preventing pregnancy, birth control also reduces your levels of relaxin, the hormone that relaxes ligaments in the omegan pelvis. Yes, you wanted it, but maybe Damiano should have held back. Maybe, with a clear head, you wouldn’t choose the discomfort and he should have known better. He should have been more aware of the cost and protected you from it.

“Dami?” The hand on his shoulder comes to stroke his pensive expression. “Where’d you go my love?” He was overthinking something about your wellbeing, visibly straining. You squeeze down on his cock forcefully, which does the job better than words ever could.

“Ooh ah,” he gasps and blinks forcefully, landing back in the present. When he finally looks at you, Damiano knows that you’d resent him for making a decision about your body on your behalf. A lapse in the trust you shared would be worse than struggling to integrate a knot. Plus, marking would have been so much less personal. Damiano wouldn’t have been able to feel your body’s reaction as he pierced the gland and that was an experience he couldn’t give up for anything.

“Let it happen. You’re not meant to control this.” With a huff, Dami plops his head onto the pillow, noses brushing.

“I want to control it,” he grumbles. You run a finger down the bridge of Damiano’s nose fondly while admiring him.

“But you don’t get to,” you coo, moving the loose strands out of his face. He grimaces and shifts his hips in discomfort. You did some independent research and found that, with medical exceptions that didn’t include AD2, knots shouldn’t be painful to produce.

“Do you think it hurts because you’re trying to control when it happens and how fast?” He shrugs, which is an alpha’s way of saying yes. You have to shove the hand on your thigh away because his grip hurts. Dami whines an apology while looking distraught and you finally just take his face in your hands.

“Let go.”

“I wanna –”

“Let go.” He shakes his head, propped up on an elbow and casting his eyes downward. This makes you wonder if forcing a knot is possible, by squeezing down like an omega might during heat. You direct focus into gripping his shaft lightly and progressively applying more pressure.

“Damiano, don’t make me watch you suffer, let go.” He quivers, the veins in his face distended even more than usual during alpha headspace. He’d been scared before your first knot that you’d flip shit like a beta had a couple years ago. You try a different approach.

“You’re safe. I’m safe. I’m not gonna reject you.” He pouts, looking at you from his peripheral vision.

“Mind reader,” he gripes, laying back down. Dami inhales deeply, taking stock of his physiology. How was he supposed to let go? When he occasionally woke up with a knot, he used it as practice for self control. He didn’t even know what letting go would be like, how it would feel. That tension felt vital to sexual performance.

“What if I can’t do it?” he groans.

“You can.” Damiano tried to stop managing the stifling pressure in his groin with which he withheld or allowed a knot.

“I don’t know if, if –”

“Take a deep breath and relax all your muscles.” You do so together, and can hear Dami’s frustration at first, but on the third breath his eyes roll back in his head momentarily. He whines and clutches you, hips working much faster and taking long strokes. Initially, after letting go, Damiano came to the conclusion that there was no other way to produce a knot. A seconds later the feeling inside him swelled up so quickly that he almost choked on it.

You were there, thank god. Had he tried this alone, Dami would have been overwhelmed and put off. At first you’re supporting – and enjoying – his very visceral reaction having a knot without discomfort. However the lag period between Damiano feeling it and you feeling it is much shorter.

“Wow,” you gasp, the sensation pushing behind your belly button, making it hard to catch your breath. Through sheer willpower, Damiano had been giving you an extra second or two to integrate the knot. The position wasn’t helping either. Hugging made everything cramped and closed your hips when having the open felt most natural. There simply wasn’t room for the knot in this position and it was creating an obstacle for the both of you.

“Back,” you manage, holding tight as he flips you over. It was something you really appreciated about Damiano. Whatever you found most comfortable was what your bodies did. In the new position he can take those deep, long thrusts that he’s been craving, so forceful it's scooting you up the bed. Feral fucking – while a person favortie – wasn’t what you wanted after this mornings events. However, he was enjoying this knot so much that you didn’t have the heart to say anything, initially.

“Dami, Dami, hey.” You bring his focus to the present. When your eyes meet, it's obvious that Damiano has lost all his self-awareness to pleasure. He slows down while visibly struggling to focus on anything but this sensation. The tendons in his arms strain as does the vein across his forehead, while he quells that desperate sexual inertia that demands he fill you up with his seed. Resting on his knees, Dami comes to a stop while panting.

“Hey, there,” you stroke this side of his face, earning a smile. He blinks languidly and takes a few seconds to focus his vision.

“Holy shit.”

“So that works. Are you gonna be good or…?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Dami nods a little too enthusiastically, partially to convince himself. Gradually, you find a comfortable position to rest in while connected. The reassurance of a knot stills the tumultuous swells of emotion which had been haranging you all day. Right now, Dami fills that void, not just literally, but the literal part was so important. Alphas and omegas were physical creatures.

Instead of the excruciating tightening of panic or nausea of fear, your body was satisfied with alpha cock. To just call it fucking was beyond reductive. Velvety in texture, firm in structure, and throbbing with his heartbeat, Damiano made himself fit into the needs of your body. Omegas were supposed to sexually serve alphas, but he was serving you. Focusing on the exact place where your walls stretched around his knot was more grounding than anything else could be. The imposter syndrome, dissociation, and mental fogginess cleared. You actually find yourself yawning out of relaxation.

“I feel better, too,” Dami says, pulling you in by your thigh again. As he wraps his arm around your middle, each line of musculature is revealed. He’s so strong, and if you focus, you can feel that strength in your own body. The invincibility, physical prowess, and absolute certainty that no one would get past him today was a pivotal reprieve from your own vulnerability.

“Lupina.” You’re too caught up in enjoying the diminutive to realize that Damiano is trying to address you. “Lupina. Lupina,” he repeats in a sing-song voice. “Pup?” he tries. You meet his gaze lazily. Just a couple months ago Dami would run from this kind of intimacy screaming. Right now he’s reaching towards you, in every sense of the word.

“Yeah, you’re sleepy now, aren’t you?” It takes a moment to pinpoint the sensation, but upon doing so you nod in agreement. This kind of drowsiness while the sun was high in the sky was disorienting. Damiano pulls you against his chest, tucking your head under his chin. Surrounded by both his arms, forehead against his skin, a shadowed niche is created.

He’d forgotten to put deodorant on today. The slight sourness of his armpits, mixed with the heady scent of his pheromones, is ambrosial when it should be repellent. This is what safety smelled like.

***

After 10 minutes of tearing apart his bedroom, Sandro finally remembered that his little brother had “borrowed” his dark green sweater last week. The temperature was going to plummet right before the game this evening and he really didn't feel like bringing a blanket. He knocks on Damiano’s door, once gently and once not so gently, to no reply. Rolling his eyes, Sandro plays video games until 3pm at which point he doesn’t feel at all guilty interrupting Dam’s beauty sleep.

“Dam, I need my sweater,” he calls through the door. After another round of knocking he presses his ear to the wood and listens. Matteo was peacefully stirring sugar into his tea when Sandro’s knuckles rapped against the door once again. Dam was a notoriously heavy sleeper, even as a baby.

“I’m just going to come in if you ignore me!” Caught up in a memory, it takes Matteo a moment to recall that his son isn’t the only one asleep in his bed.

“Sandro, Sandro, wait,” he calls, hastily setting his mug on the counter.

“Dad, he needs to get up for the game anyways.” He turns the knob and flings the door open. Usually such commotion would make you startle awake, but the security of a knot allowed your nervous system to decompress. Stimuli elicited a less drastic reaction, which is why you were only halfway to consciousness when Matteo called out a warning as he rounded the kitchen counter.

“Wait –” Sandro rolled his eyes at the precious treatment parents alloted to the youngest child and tapped Dam on the shoulder. He was turned on his side with you tucked so snuggly against him that his body obscured the view of your own. A person would have to be close enough to set a hand on Dami’s shoulder, which Sandro currently was, to see you.

“Y/n is in –” Even as his older brother tried to scamper backwards, it was too late. You woke to the most petrifying growl of blood thirsty territorialism you’d heard in your life. It made you cower against Dami, even though he was the source of the sound. His hand yanked the covers up to your chin while you tried to make sense of the present.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry. I didn’t know. I’m so sorry!” The foreign voice turns out to be Sandro slinking out of the bedroom.

“If you weren’t my brother I’d break your ribs!!” Dami bellows. Even more terrifying is that he means it.

“Dam, I’m so so sorry.” Sandro shuts the door and continues talking through it. “I really, really am sorry. Y/n, I –”

“Don’t you fucking speak to her!!”

“Okay, okay, but I didn’t see anything, I swear!” You flush with embarrassment then blanch with fear as Damiano lets out another bone chilling sound. His forearm is sturdy across your shoulder blades, still protecting your modesty.

“I swear to god, if you even think about her, I will snap –”

“No threatening your sibling with bodily harm,” calls Matteo. Damiano snarls and falls dead silent, gradually turning his attention from to unadulterated rage to you. Footfalls tiptoe down the hall.

“Breathe,” you gasp for air and feel a wave of dizziness. Catching your breath isn’t easy. It’s been so long since you inhaled. Going from the security of a knot to this is beyond jarring. Dami strokes your cheek with the back of his pointer finger. The motions are slow and steady. Finally, you look at him for the first time, in headspace, obviously.

“You – you were fucking terrifying.” His face falls.

“I scared you.”

“Well…yeah. I mean, holy shit, I’ve never ever heard that type of…” It is the ultimate violation of respect and privacy, to disturb – nay, even approach – a knotted pair. The alpha can’t properly defend his omega without also injuring them. The omega is in their most unguarded state, which is meant to be observed by their alpha alone. The act of knotting creates a feeling of profound safety and another alpha interrupting yanks that motion to the opposite side of the spectrum: profound fear.

Of course, Sandro wasn’t actually a threat. He hadn’t waited for the prime moment to slaughter Dami or steal his omega. It was apparent that you found that easier to remember than Damiano, whose chest was still heaving.

“He didn’t mean –”

“He should have known better.” You already know the wave of rage that your next question is going to evoke.

“Did – did he, um see…me?” Dami tenses for a moment and calms his temper.

“All he saw was your upper back, pup. As your alpha I would never let anyone see your body ever.” He enunciates the words sharply. “I’ll start locking my door. This won’t happen again. I’ll talk to Sandro –”

“Dami, it’s okay.” Lord knows, Sandro was never going to make this mistake again, as long as he lived.

“It's not okay,” he bites. “It is inexcusable. It was a violation and an insult.”

“It was an accident, my love.” You put a hand on the back of his head and press Damiano’s face against your scent gland. This will be more calming than words could achieve. He breathes in your pheromones and both hands wrap around your torso. Secretly, you relished that your body could quell Dami’s senseless rage or acute anxiety. Meanwhile, he didn’t have a fraction of interest in anyone else’s smell. You were his anecdote.

“What do I smell like?”

“Heaven.” This was an answer you’d heard before.

“Is it sweet or musky or?”

“Both.” His lips brush your scared scent gland. “My brother...you’d never, I mean you’re not, like – nevermind.” You try to quell whatever anxiety is plaguing your alpha, only to be reminded that he was penetrating you with your leg thrown over his waist. Dami must have gotten an erection in his sleep because there was no way he was still hard without a knot. The discomfort and ache of that intrusion wasn’t present and neither was the stickiness of leaking arousal on your inner-thighs. So you squeeze down to confirm and end up surprised.

Dami cries out and collapses against you. His mewls turn to garbled sounds and you can’t tell if he’s feeling pleasure or pain. What you were sure of, is the presence of a knot. It’s there, connecting your forms, but without the feeling of claustrophobia, without the urge to shift your hips to make the pressure palatable. You can feel your eyes water out of relief that you finally understand what all your omegan counterparts were talking about. The euphoria, the addictive sensation, you’d spent the last month trying to find this.

Some of your muscles had relaxed, others contracted to support the knot and keep it inside you. Finally, your body has adapted, and as a result, not a drop of slick or pre-cum was wasted. How could you never consider that the missing piece was the fact that this mechanism went both ways? Your cunt didn’t just receive an alpha’s knot, but could also accept it, like a locking mechanism. Wolves did it, foxes did it, omegas did it, but not on hormone suppressants. Slick production, libido, heat, sexual responses, it had all been dulled. But you were young and fertile and your body’s desire to breed circumvented your HSIUD.

This wasn’t just your omegan pussy throbbing for your alpha. Your entire groin throbbed, as if on the very brink of orgasam. The intermittent pulsing of your vaginal walls pulled Damiano inside, keeping his shaft erect. It was like breathing, in that you could stop if you focused, but your body would scream for continuance until it was impossible to resist.

Dami makes a choking sound and you lift his head via a hold on his ponytail. He’s red in the face like you’ve never seen outside of doing sprints after soccer practice. What you initially think is sweat, turns out to be tears. His head falls onto the pillow, unable to hold its weight.

“Are you okay?” He nods, momentarily removing his hand from your back to wipe his face.

“Gonna cum,” he grimaces. “Can’t help it.” You both knew that it was the one and only solution to this state, regardless of what had been previously agreed upon.

“That’s okay,” you reassure tenderly, relaxing beside him. There's a moment of relief where his face begins to go back to its normal color, but then you scoot closer and your cunt pulls another inch inside.

“Ah uh uhhh,” he moans, gasping. Concerned, you press your forehead to his and stoke Dami’s hair.

“Never been locked before,” he grunts. You can’t help but smile because you’ve never taken a first from Dami.

“Me neither.”

“For me…its – its more…” He rests his forehead against your sternum, and knowing what he really wants in his face, you scoot up. “You’re holding on to me,” he whimpers against your breasts, short fingernails digging into your skin.

“It hurts?”

“Overstimulated, but good.” You decide on attempting to distract him.

“Hey, remember when you wanted to wait until I was 16 to take my clothes off?” He chuckles breathlessly.

“This would have killed me,” he answers while stroking your flank, “you getting curves. I’d have to watch other alphas look at you, wonder if they were touching you.”

“I know that I belong to someone.”

“I love you, too,” Damiano looks up, puckering his lips for a kiss. Of course, you oblige. Having stayed in this position for the past however many hours has left several limbs and joints sore.

“Can we do missionary?”

“If we move, I’ll probably cum,” he admits bashfully.

“As opposed to staying locked and in this position forever?”

“I…want to make you cum.”

“If I have an orgasam right now it might break your dick and that's not a risk I can take.” Dami rolls his eyes with a smile.

“I just mean, in general. I thought I was gonna be this incredible lover that could last half an hour every time, and would wow you with my sexual prowess –”

“I have been wowed.”

“And you would be cumming repeatedly whenever we made love and worship my cock –”

“Worship is a bit of a strong word, but I’m his #1 fan.”

“But instead I choke on my own spit and cum quicker than I have in two years,” he winces with shame. In a shocking turn of events, Damiano is not being fair to himself.

“We do have that sex at least half of the time! When I’m so horny that I become a raging bitch or an emotional mess you always solve it, very thoroughly, I might add.” He’s grinning again at your praise and a slew of smutty memories.

“I want it to be 90% of the time.”

“And I want you to stop torturing yourself and cum.” It’s clear your words have made no leeway in this immensely inconvenient mental block so you take matters into your own hands.

“On your back.” Your left leg is already thrown over Dami’s waist at 90 degree angle, so you roll over by leaning into that. All it takes is disentangling your right leg from his and you’ve got both under you in a straddle position. Damiano moans in surprise and takes a moment for his upper body to match his lower body.

“Did you finish?” He shakes his head, again red in the face. “Come here,” you demand, grabbing both arms and pulling him into an upright position. Once you’ve got a confident hold on his torso, you bounce on his cock. Damiano goes from shakily holding himself up to gripping you so close it almost hinders your movement.

Since he’s already holding on for dear life, you switch to rolling your hips on the upstroke. After a single pass, he shrieks and begins crying with his mouth open in pleasure. Now the whole house knew what you were doing, but none of them would dare say so. It's such a beautiful, visceral reaction that you don’t care, and you can feel his spunk when he cums. Normally, you’d keep moving, but instead decide to hold Damiano's face against your bosom as he finds the other side of his climax in a daze. He’s disoriented and struggles to open his eyes at first. You support the back of his neck in your hand and feel your own body beginning to relax.

“Hello, my love. Can you hear me?” He nods, plenty content with his face resting against your bare breasts. The scorching, humid air from his panting raises goosebumps on your skin. As Damiano comes to, he presses feather light kisses on your nipples and the surrounding area.

“Yeah? You gonna be okay?” He nods again, this time managing to look up, no longer in headspace. The beautiful hazel of his irises reflects light.

“I’m good, I’m so good,” he heaves, beaming. “I, uh…” Damiano looks down to the place your bodies are joined. “I think you can get off, or try to.” Gingerly, you pull up while Dami holds the base of his cock steady. It's the last bit that worries you, but the relaxation in his face indicates that something had definitely changed.

“Mhm, you’re okay pup, keep going.” You get to the point that it’ll really start to hurt if your bodies are still locked. “Keep going.” You move maybe half a centimeter and feel something tug internally. A wave of anxiety tightens like an iron fist in your chest.

“Mm-mm,” you shake your head, sinking down halfway to where it's safe. “I’m scared to do it. I can’t yet.”

“My knot isn’t totally gone, but you’ll be fine. I wouldn’t ask you to hurt yourself, lupina.”

“But what if I’m not…ready? I could tear, Dami.” He pulls you down to the bed, so you’re laying on his chest.

“Flip, he instructs, and you find yourself in missionary position. Before you’ve even begun to settle, Dami pulls out. Reflexively, you gasp, expecting it to hurt, but there’s no pain. A rush of viscous fluid coats your thighs and the bed, undoubtedly all the way to the rubber mattress cover. You make a noise of disgust and recoil.

“Next time we’ll put a towel down,” Dami laughs, unperturbed. “Did that hurt?” You shake your head and his assured expression reveals that he already knew the answer. “The anxiety is normal, figured I’d just spare you and do it myself.” Damiano leans off the edge of the bed and picks a dirty sweatshirt off the floor. “For when you decide to sit up,” he smirks. “Gotta wash it anyways and I know how much you like my sweatshirts.” Blushing, you raise your hips so he can slide the fabric underneath you. Even tensing the muscles makes the hot mixture of cum, pre-cum, and slick run over your stretched hymen, off of your glute, and onto the fabric below.

Damiano watches, absolutely captivated. You close your knees in embarrassment and he makes a noise of dissent.

“C’mon, let me be a disgusting alpha. You’ve never been this full before.”

“You only came once,” you pout.

“Plus pre-cum and slick accumulating while we were locked. Puppy, you know this.” With a sigh of annoyance, you allow your legs to be pushed open.

“It didn’t feel like anything.”

“No? You’ll do well when I breed you then.” Your heart sinks and Dami watches your reaction closely. How did you feel about that? Not necessarily negatively. It was your least favorite part of your biology though. If you weren’t actively against breeding with Damiano then what was your relationship with it? Not positive either, unless there’d been a tectonic shift in your personal philosophy.

“I shouldn’t have said that, I’m sorry.” It was a slip up and mentally Dami is concussing himself on a brick wall. As if giving him the most intimate orgasam of his life wasn’t enough, now he had to entrap you.

“Um, no, it’s fine. I just,” you sit up, ending his access to spank bank material. “I don’t know how I feel about that word…or concept.” Damiano had assumed that you’d want to reproduce, or at least roleplay it during heat. The drive was vital to your biology. He’s never considered that the entire thing would be outright unappealing. But why the fuck should you know that about yourself at age 15?

“For sure, just ignore me.” To anyone else that’d be quite convincing.

“If it's something you need to talk about, Dami…” He rapidly shakes his head, eyes downcast.

“Not at all. Just accidentally saying what I meant to only think in my head.” He rubs your thigh soothingly as his exhausted cock softens against his dark pubic thicket.

“If I was 17, would we talk about it?”

“You’re not 17.”

“But, if I was.”

“Doesn’t matter.” That makes you bristle.

“What do you mean it ‘doesn’t matter?’ It matters to me.”

“I mean it's not relevant because you aren’t 17, you’re 15.”

“Do you wish I was 17?”

“No.” He means it and that catches you off guard. “I get two more years with you. I get to admire, guide, and nurture you as you grow.”

“I’m willful and hostile.”

“Yes. You refuse to let anyone think or speak for you. Society told you I was a monster and you told society to go fuck itself because you could gather your own conclusions. Everytime you’re a defiant pain in the ass I think about how your loyalty changed my life.” It's not very often that you are left speechless. “Okay, so…shower?”

Notes: Shout out to teardrop anon for reminding me to actually fucking post my chapters. Also thanks to Oreo for the endless encouragement <3 If you like my writing please support it by interacting with these posts!

Taglist: @bieberhoodforever @blackberryblossom @butkutee @cuzimitaliano @elvirabelle @iamtashaquinn@icarodamiano @ilwiwbysmv @immrbrightsideeee @little-moonbeam-666 @maneslut @mortyandem @the-chaotic-cow @wasteddoubts @weareoddlydrawn @whore4damia @azertyhug @biancathecool @bohemianrainbow @daisy0gf @dustyinkpages @katyldamusic @minnietmouse@obiw4n @persona1read1ng @gr8rainbowpunk @hiraetheral @l0standn0tf0und@que--sera--sera @stardustingold @teenyweenynightghost @softmullet @solacestyles @thegeminisgirl @slavicgoddess13 @bright-shiningstar @lizzylynch1 @hauntedpostpersona

#maneskin #måneskin #må #daminao #damiano david #damiano maneskin #maneskin damiano #damiano david x reader #damiano david imagine #damiano david fluff #damiano david fanfiction #damiano david angst #maneskin fanfiction #maneskin imagine #maneskin x reader #omegaverse #alpha beta omega #alpha and omega #alpha/beta/omega au

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rickmymanrick · 8 months

Text

one rule | chapter two |

[rick grimes x original female character slowburn]

summary: the statewide evacuation is underway and it goes terribly wrong terribly fast. daphne and glenn undergo an impromptu rescue mission and soon their group of two becomes a group of 5.

note: twd-typical gore starts now. there's vivid descriptions and mentions of vomit among many other things. this will be the only warning from now on until we get into the sexual content of this book. but expect anything as gory as what you saw in the show and/or read in the comics. :)

"God, I fucking hate Atlanta."

"Daphne..."

I ignored him, pressing a hand against my forehead and squeezing my eyes shut to try to will the traffic we were currently stuck in away.

"In fact, I hate all big cities. New York, LA, Chicago..."

"What is—?" I peeked at Glenn to see him leaning forward, nearly smacking his head into the windshield.

I chose to complain without a care. "I could really stretch my legs right now..."

"Daphne!"

"What? What?" I glared at him through an eye. I quickly sat up when I saw the horrified look on his face. The fear of what I'd see up ahead paralyzed me for just a moment. I had never ever seen Glenn so terrified in his life.

"We need—" he started blindly reaching out for the door handle, pressing every button on the side door console. "Out. We need to get out right now!"

I whipped my head forward when the screams started and nothing could've prepared me for what I saw.

There was a crowd— no—herd— of people stumbling down the adjacent empty side of the freeway. Some of them were crossing the small median barriers that separated the lanes that led out of the city and the lanes leading towards it, where every single car in the state of Georgia crammed into.

From a distance, it looked just... odd. Then they started to get closer and I realized with a start what was causing Glenn to panic in a way I'd never seen.

These people were... dead.

Flesh hanging off their cheekbones and extremities... a horrid stench of death and rotten flesh that I could smell from a mile away... I instantly wanted to throw up.

I tuned back into my immediate surroundings and found that Glenn was still desperately grabbing at the door, eyes wildly looking at the chaos unfolding around us.

He was saying something— more like screaming something — but my hearing went into a strange state of white noise.

It was my body's fight or flight. The sort of survival instincts I'd never had to tap into before in my mundane life.

I slammed my whole hand on the driver's door console and in his panic, Glenn instantly re-locked the doors with his button. "Goddamnit, Glenn!"

"I'm sorry! I'm—"

"Let's go," I rushed out of the car and made it to Glenn's side in record speed. He was still struggling, halfway out the car, his hands reaching for whatever he could find useful in the car.

"We don't have time for this," I dragged him by the shirt and started running towards the woods adjacent to the highway, desperate to create some space between us and the dead.

A corpse lunged in front of me out of nowhere and a scream ripped through my throat. It tackled an older lady that was trying to grab something out of her car trunk just a few paces ahead of us.

I completely froze, the terror was icy cold and spreading from the tips of my fingers to the bottom of my feet. My stomach started turning painfully —

My arm nearly came off my body from how hard Glenn pulled me away.

We began running, sprinting faster than we had ever pushed ourselves before and I couldn’t even feel myself break a sweat.

The adrenaline pushed me farther and farther away until I was the one leading Glenn by the hand, tearing through the woods and never looking back.

The screams were louder than ever and I could faintly hear Glenn hyperventilating over the pounding in my ears.

I didn’t let go. I didn’t ease up.

We had to run.

It was only what felt like hours later (it had only been minutes really) that I skidded to a stop, no longer recognizing my surroundings. It was finally quiet, just a faint chorus of beeps and sirens from a distance away.

Glenn fell to the ground and instantly curled into a ball, his hands shielding his head as his back started shaking.

It felt like my heart soared up to my throat and I barely made it a few steps before throwing up everything I had eaten this morning.

My eyes stung, tears streaming down and mixing with the vomit. My nose was running and I was crying all at the same time. I threw up until there was nothing left in my system anymore, just dry heaving and a burning in my throat.

Glenn was still curled up on the ground.

I didn’t know how long we’d been sitting here in our state of shock; it could’ve well been over a half hour.

”You know,” I began hoarsely. “I was supposed to go on a date today.”

This made him look up, bloodshot eyes squinting at me as if he were trying to figure out if I’d truly reached my breaking point.

Maybe I had. Hell, everything I thought I knew about this world was flipped upside down.

As of this morning, there were two things I was absolutely certain of in this world — we, humans, are born and eventually we die. It was the natural order of things and there was no way around it. No do-over, no coming back— that was just it.

Now, now I was questioning my grip on reality and desperately holding on to anything I could remember from my life before this afternoon’s events.

There was life then, and there’s life now.

Maybe Glenn realized that too because as soon as the confusion crossed his face, it was gone and he was laughing.

”This is one hell of a way to stand someone up,” he said, sniffling. “At least you’ve got a valid excuse.”

“Yeah, true. Maybe he’ll be willing to reschedule.”

We don’t comment on the ridiculousness of that statement. It’s very clear to me that Shane might be dead.

”Who was it anyway?” Glenn asked, picking at the leaves under his hands.

I jolted at the sound of a branch snapping. An icy cold sensation gripped my throat and I snapped my head to look in that direction.

It was a squirrel.

”Uh - it was the flirty cop. You know, the one who asked what the best night of my life was like when we met and then - ”

”Then he told you he could give that to you. Yeah, girl, what the fuck?”

This was the first taste of normalcy since the highway.

”He - he’s not that much of an asshole anymore. I only agreed because he promised to take me to Ilio’s.”

”He knows about that place?”

”I told him yesterday morning and I guess he does have hearing for things other than sex.”

He snorted. “That’s some character development.”

”Surprised me too,” I said quietly.

It was silent for a few moments and I had to strain my ears to listen for the screams. They’d died down significantly.

We had to get out of here soon. Maybe go home, find a car if we could. Anything. Sitting here would surely end in our death - through starvation or otherwise.

”I was gonna quit today,” Glenn said suddenly.

I quirked an eyebrow. I stared over at my best friend and he stared back.

”You’re bullshitting,” I denied after a solid thirty seconds.

“I’m dead serious, Daph. I was thinking of becoming a cop, just like you,” he said with that proud bullshitting smile.

“Shut up. I’m not a cop,” I grimaced. “You know I would’ve never stepped foot in a precinct if it wasn’t required in my training.”

“So we hate cops but the flirty one’s alright?”

I rolled my eyes and sat down beside him.

“What about Griiiiimmmeeesss?”

“Oh shut the fuck up,” I shoved the annoying fucker aside, so hard that he landed on his side in the grass.

He fell over in giggles, knocking his hat into the ground and laughing even harder. I couldn’t help but laugh too. It felt bizarre after what we just experienced.

Glenn slowly recovered and it all went silent again.

”What made you say that anyway?” I glanced at him.

He shrugged. “Thought we were saying random things.”

I shook my head in amusement. We sat there for a few more minutes.

”What do we do?” I stared at the ground.

I saw Glenn turn to me from the corner of my eye. “I don’t know.”

”What do you think we should do?”

Glenn's idea ended up being 'borrowing' a car to drive back to our apartment and figure it out there. We'd both refused to go back to the highway and so with burning legs and dry mouths, we trekked through the woods until we eventually hit some concrete again. We stayed along the road, following whatever little signs we could find until we stumbled across an abandoned Jeep halfway on the road and halfway on the grass. It was still on, its windshield wipers moving and the lights turned on despite the bright sun out.

"Looks like there was a struggle here," I noted. We both stood at a good distance just in case.

"Which means we shouldn't linger around any longer than we need to," Glenn made a start for the vehicle. "I'm willing to bet one of those geeks are close by."

"Wait - " I followed after him quickly. "Grand theft auto?!"

"Does it even matter anymore? I don't see any law enforcement around here, do you?"

A nearby human-like growl was all the convincing I needed. Surprisingly, Glenn let me drive and I noticed his shaky hands resting on his lap as we sped down the deserted roads.

When we made it to the complex, it was just as empty as every other road we'd been on. There was some cars here and there but not a single soul in sight. They must've left as soon as the evacuation was announced. I cringed at the thought of our neighbors stuck on that highway from hell.

I ran my hands along the comforter on my bed, feeling the soft fabric between my fingers because something told me I wouldn't be back in a long time.

For a moment, our little apartment felt like the only safe haven left in the world. I wanted to stay, beg Glenn to help me barricade the doors, but it wasn't possible. The I-85 was too close to our town for comfort.

Between the two of us, we silently emptied our pantry into the trunk of the half open-door, half window-less Jeep. I tried to shove every knife I could find in the glove compartment, wishing I had more than just a handgun.

"We should stop the station," I thought out loud. "Maybe they'll let me grab some more ammo. We can warn them if they don't know yet."

Glenn nodded and we rushed to finish packing as much as we could fit. I was grabbing a pack of batteries when we heard the first gunshot.

Without hesitation, I threw myself to the ground, crouching behind the island as a vase behind me shattered.

"That's not good,” Glenn stated the obvious. He rushed on all fours and then grabbed me, running toward the front door without hesitation. The bullet had entered through our side window, one of the perks of having a corner unit. I barely had time to grab the keys of our stolen car.

I kept my head down, sprinting to the driver's side and twisting the key in the ignition.

Glass rained down from the apartment building, windows shattering as bullets entered them with precision. I realized with a start that this wasn't an accident.

"It's the military," said Glenn as soon as we safely sped away from our street.

"You saw it?"

"Yes, I saw it," he said exasperatedly. "They're shooting everyone down. Look!"

I did my best to look over at his phone and saw a shaky video of military soldiers raining down rounds on groups of people-- living civilians…

There was a military truck ahead, two lights away, so I turned the wheel into a sharp right. We were already halfway to the police station in the next town over - King County. Our only option was to try to speed through the town square; it was the only exit I knew and maybe I could've thought of more if I wasn't terrified of being shot in the head.

We raced closer to the town, going well over the speed limit and I was forced to slow down when I finally saw signs of civilization again - people running for their lives, thankfully, no children in sight until --

"That's - that's Shane! What the fuck?" I yelled over the wind, recognizing the back of my coworker as soon as I laid eyes on him.

"Who's Shane?!" Glenn yelled back.

I couldn't answer, not as I was staring straight ahead at a group of armed soldiers, aimed and locked on Shane and the two others that were with him.

My consciousness would never let me live if I didn't act fast. I pressed the gas straight into the floor and it felt exhilarating for half a moment. We began approaching the intersection with frightening speed.

I suddenly slammed the brakes and used whatever momentum I had to twist the car around. Right between the military and Shane's group.

Glenn made a desperate grab at the handle above beside him, screaming something along the lines of me being insane. Shane pulled himself off the ground, releasing Lori and Carl Grimes with a relieved smile.

“Yes, fuck yes!” He cheered as he opened the back door quickly. Carl and Lori climbed in first, breathing so quickly I feared one of them was hyperventilating.

“T-thank you,” Lori reached over and grasped me by the shoulder. Her hands were severely shaking. “Thank you.”

I squeezed her hand back, a bit shocked at the company. Shane came barreling in with a large KCPD duffel bag.

I managed to crack a joke. “I thought you were picking me up, Walsh?”

The soldiers kept yelling orders from the other side of the intersection and I realized they would start shooting again if I didn’t move now.

Shane leaned forward and grasped the side of my head with one hand, pulling my temple against his lips firmly, breathing into my hair like I was the best goddamn thing that had ever happened to him. I smiled, gripping the steering wheel and shifting into drive just as they raised their guns again.

Shane let me go quickly and the shooting started again. Lori screamed and I saw her pull Carl in close through the rearview mirror. I slammed my foot into the gas, adrenaline pumping through my blood and I remember feeling a sharp pinch in my left leg as I sent the car from 0 to about 100 MPH in record time.

“Where are we going? Daphne, where are we going?!” Glenn panicked from the passenger’s seat.

I wished I could answer him but the only thing my brain was allowing me to do was drive. Survival kicked in and I was doing everything I could to keep us alive.

“Ayala, listen to me. We gotta go in-land. It’s the only place they won’t find us, you hear me?” Shane asserted from behind Glenn. He grabbed me by the shoulder.

I saw an opening between the trees a few yards ahead and without warning, took a sharp left into the wild greenery.

Carl cursed. Lori didn’t seem to care.

It was only until Shane told me we were safe that I stopped on the edge of a cliff, the view of Atlanta in the distance, the endless traffic on the I-85 eerily silent now.

“Holy shit,” Glenn said. “Daphne, your leg.”

“What?” I asked absentmindedly.

I hadn’t bothered to check out that strange pinch until now. Before I could force my head to look down (it had gotten strangely heavier since I put the car in park), my door was opening and Shane was right there, crouching at my side. Lori and Carl had gotten out of the car, one of them crying. Or maybe both of them were— I wasn’t sure anymore.

I was all of a sudden dizzy.

My mind drifted off in a million different directions. Were we the only survivors? Was it just Atlanta and the surrounding cities? What the fuck was happening? What the fuck—

“Hey, Ayala.”

What the fuck —

“Look at me.”

What the fuck—

“Daphne!”

I looked back down at him with a newfound strength. My mind cleared enough to realize the situation.

Shane’s hands were covered in red, ripping at his undershirt and I felt the first sting of pain as the adrenaline wore off.

“Fuck,” I gasped, tempted to clutch onto my leg but he quickly pushed my hands away and began to wrap the fabric around the wound tightly.

“One of the bullets got you,” Shane grunted. “We’re lucky it’s just a graze. Any longer and you would’ve lost too much blood.”

Glenn pushed Shane aside as soon as he was done. When had he gotten out of the car?

He wrapped an arm around my torso and began to help me out of the vehicle.

“You crazy asshole. You can’t leave me like this,” said Glenn dramatically. We hobbled over to a nearby rock.

“I’m not going to die, Rhee,” I slurred.

Glenn looked at me. “You better not.”

“Nope,” I shook my finger. I think the blood loss was getting to me now and I distantly hoped if I passed out, I wouldn’t hit my head too hard.

“Here,” offered Lori as she walked over to us. I squinted my eyes, trying to focus on what Glenn had accepted from her hands.

“Thanks,” I said without knowing. I’m pretty she gave me a smile before walking back to her son.

Glenn thrusted the object in my face—

A go-gurt in all its glory.

”The kid grabbed everything that was in their fridge,” he pointed his thumb at the second duffle bag that laid next to Carl. “You need to eat something.”

I was too tired to argue. I slowly began to rip the top off and made eye contact with Shane.

”What’s up with him?” Glenn eyed him and sat beside me.

“I was supposed to go on that date with him,” I explained. My strength was slowly coming back.

Glenn looked at me and then back at Shane with wide eyes.

“Do you fucking know the definition of subtle?!” I whacked him on the arm, ducking closer to him so Shane couldn’t read my lips.

“He’s the flirty coworker?” Glenn whispered quite fucking loudly.

I rolled my eyes. “I need to stop telling you every little detail in my life. It’s really backfiring on me now.”

I didn’t mean it of course. Glenn was a part of me and me, him. We were pretty much each other’s first everything and we’ve been attached at the hip ever since we met.

”It’s just weird. How we all ended up together… ” I trailed off.

”You know them?” He looked over at Lori and Carl; she had her arms wrapped around her son, holding him close.

I smiled sadly. “Yeah, you can say that.”

“Daphne, I’m going to go scan the perimeter. See if I can find us some tents, shelter…” Shane looked over at Glenn. “You comin’ with?”

My first instinct was to protest. Glenn looked down at his arm, my hand clutching at it like a vice.

”Hey, I’ll be fine. We’ll be back before sundown, right?”

Shane looked between me, Glenn, and my hand. “Right.” He said stiffly.

To our luck, Shane and Glenn found a camping store within the last few hours of daylight.

I’d spent that time talking to Lori, skillfully avoiding the subject of her husband though I was dying to know what happened to him.

Was he alive? Did they evacuate the medical patients in time?

The not-knowing made me anxious… All in all, Lori Grimes was a really sweet woman, just a few years older than I was and easy to hold a conversation with. I imagined it would be even easier if the threat of death and gloom wasn’t hanging over our shoulders. That was another thing I was desperately trying to ignore, but I was failing horrendously.

Every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was the corpse ripping apart that old lady’s torso on the highway, blood soaking the ground before my feet, intestines spilling like rope from her abdomen as she screamed in agony -

“Hey,” Lori put a hand on my knee. I jumped in fright. “We can’t get lost in our heads. Now now.”

She had an understanding look on her face. I wondered what she’d seen before Glenn and I found them in the town square.

I looked over at Carl and wondered the same thing; he was only a boy.

I squeezed Lori’s hand and gave her a shaky smile.

“They’re back!” Carl exclaimed. It was the first thing he said since the car ride.

I nearly cried in relief. My leg was still aching, the blood dried up on the fabric of my pants, so I couldn’t get up even if I tried.

Carl ran over to Shane with a smile. Glenn slammed the passenger door shut and came running over.

”How was it?” I asked quietly, keeping an eye on the police officer.

”Could’ve been worse,” he shrugged and I instantly knew Shane had been difficult. “We found some supplies though. A national park shop, it had tents, flashlights, we grabbed it all.”

The first bit of hope flooded through me. Maybe we would survive this. Wait it out until the military found some better way to control the virus.

”And this - ” Shane came out of nowhere, holding a bottle of vodka. I gave him an impressed look, nudging Glenn in excitement. If this was the end of the world, at least we could get wasted one last time.

" - this is gonna hurt," finished Shane. He was looking straight at my leg. My heart sank at the implication.

”Hey, at least we can drink it after, right?” Glenn cheered. “Be optimistic, man!”

I glared at him, clutching Shane’s shirt with pale knuckles as he crouched at my feet.

"Remind me to never get shot for one of you assholes ever again," I said through gritted teeth. Thankfully, Lori and Carl were distracted by the supplies. I wouldn't want them to think I was talking about them.

"I'm sure the pain will be reminder enough," Glenn smiled sympathetically.

Whatever witty response I had instantly died on my tongue at the first drop of vodka.

next chapter...

#rick grimes x daphne ayala #rick grimes x original female character #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes x oc #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfic #shane walsh x original female character #glenn rhee #lori grimes #carl grimes #twd #twd fanfic

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squishycheekanon · 2 years

Text

Lumberjack!Techno x reader

Techno hates Mondays.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, bunny ears.

Monday. Technos hates Mondays, to him they are the evil that is on this earth. They simply shouldn’t exist. Mondays are like hope, they breed eternal misery of the upcoming week. The deep aspiration of what the future days will be like, even if Monday is bad Tuesday might turn out okay-

No! Mondays are just wrong. His inner hating of the first day of the week was festering inside the lumberjack as he lifted his heavy weighted axe, the blade slicing though the air before splitting the fresh piece of oak in half. He started chopping wood at four am his vexed brain needing a way to let out his frustration.

His eyes scanned your sleeping body and for a split second he was going to wake you, pleading for help but then you mewled so sweetly and the selfishness slipped away and he made his way outside.

You blinked away the sleep that was tugging on you desperately, hoping to suck you back in. You instantly know what day it is and exactly where your man was. The harsh chopping outside was inviting, enticing and down right sinful. Your eyes flutter close, a fleeting smile on you face when you hear the front door open and slam shut.

Techno is heaving clearly out of breath as he hops on the spot while taking his jeans off and not doing a very good job of it. He pauses, glancing at you from the corner of his eyes, he almost smiles at you but it’s Monday he thinks as he grumbles his way to the shower.

Your eyes ping open an imaginary lightbulb practically glowing from above your head as you scurry out of bed and straight to the drawers. Your hands searching desperately for what you want, and coming up empty. But you swear you left it right-

“Shit.” You turn looking out of the big window to the left of the bed, it’s in the woodshed.

You mentally face palm for not going back to get it after your last time using it. Tugging on one of Techno’s plaid button ups and a pair of Uggs, you make your way outside determined to get there and back before Techno finishes in the shower.

The cold brisk wind hits you and you instantly find yourself wishing you hadn’t left your cozy bed. Early morning birds chatter to one another as you lightly jog over to the woodshed, your fingers searching for a light switch once inside.

The golden glow illuminates the space around you, it bounces off the ring sitting on your left hand forth finger. You ignore the shine and look for what you need to cheer your brooding lumberjack up.

A cheeky smile finds itself on your face when you manage to find what your looking for. You sprint back to the house and your bedroom, hurrying to slip into the playboy bunny body suit. You skip the collar and arm bands knowing your lover will rip them from you anyway.

You brush your hair and check over your reflection in the mirror before slipping the bunny ears onto your head. You looked good. No. You looked sexy as fuck.

The shower shuts off and you perk up waiting with anticipation buzzing up your spine. Techno wanders out of the bathroom with a white fluffy towel wrapped around his waist, your teeth rake over your bottom lip watching droplets off water trickle over his plump chest down his thick muscular stomach and past that protruding vein that disappears into hoarse tuffs of hair.

“Hey baby.” You purr, watching as your man’s gaze hones in on you, his body turning ridged and tense.

“B-Bunny.” The stutter is everything to you, proof that you can turn your beast of a man into a weak kneed one. His chest rises and falls with a burning want, it grows inside him so fast he blinks and he’s morphing into a desperate fool.

“Yes?” You flutter your pretty lashes at him, making sure to give your ass a wiggle as you move closer to your man. Your hand comes to rest on his towel, stroking along the fluffy material.

“Bunny.” It’s firm this time, strong and domineering. He watches you purse your lips before wetting them with your tongue and he wants in. His mouth crashing onto yours sinfully pushing his tongue, licking into your mouth. Techno’s large hand comes up to grip your jaw potently, it leaves you breathless just like the kiss.

“You’re gonna ride my fucking thigh, and when you’ve soaked me with that perfect little cunt of yours you’re gonna ride my cock.” His words are breathy and have you nodding vigorously, it’s only a few moments later his towel is abandoned on the floor.

He’s completely bare under you letting you use him to get yourself off. The black bodysuit sticking to your skin with how hot you’re becoming.

Techno watches the bunny ears sway gently as you bounce on his thick thigh, the ridged feeling has you gripping onto his thick locks for something to keep you tethered too your withering sanity.

“Ohgodyesyesyespleasedontstopyestec-“

Your words slur into one long continuous moan, the ones Technos love. The ones he aims to pull from you. Because he knows that one of his favourite sights isn’t far behind. A groan bubbling in his chest when your eyes roll back, a burst of colours popping behind your lids.

Your swollen, tender clit rolls over his corded muscle and sensations unfurl in your stomach. It does flips as your head swirls with heady pleasure, it burns through you resulting in a high pitched keen that echoes in the room around you.

“My cute little Bunny.” He grins plotting in his head all the ways he’s going to take you apart today.

Monday just became his favourite day of the week.

Tags:

@victory-is-here

@simply-vulpecula

@lillianastuff

@megnotfound

@vanivivs

@itsberrydreemurstuff

@dreamwvrld

@cherryblossomdelusion

@angelicadiabolus

@fionamk1001

@sir-reese

@cookiezxx

#squishycheekanon #squishycheekanonanswer #asks are appreciated #beefy!techno #dreamsmp x reader #dreamsmp members #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt x reader #techno x reader #technoblade x reader #techno smut #mcyt imagine #lumberjack!techno #technoblade smut #techno fluff #technoblade fluff #technoblade x reader smut

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sommerregenjuniluft · 3 months

Text

@hpsaffics feb 3 - time loop - 1117words

aka fem bartylus in their bonnie and damon from season 5 of vampire diaries arc (i made myself cry with this but also i'm on my period so who knows ksfjf)

“Hey, look,” Barty says, her head popping up over one of the grocery store shelves, “The small, pickled corn cobs you like so much are on Sale.”

Regulus doesn’t have to look up to see the shit eating grin stretching her lips as she holds up the jars of pickled corn with the impossible to miss, red SALE stickers that have been there for every single day of the past 3 months. She simply rolls her eyes and turns to grab an OJ out of the cooler, like she does every Saturday morning. Regulus believes in keeping a weekly and daily schedule in favor of not going insane, thanks a lot.

There’s a noise across the empty store that sounds like Barty put two of the jars into the shopping cart.

Regulus sniffs, ignoring the flutter in her stomach as well as the sting deep inside her ribcage.

She goes about filling her own cart methodically, absentmindedly listening to Barty mucking about wherever she is. Humming under her breath, bags crinkling, the sounds of the cart clinking against stuff. Barty has great spatial awareness in any situation except for the grocery store.

Regulus still feels last weekend in the tender bruises along her Achillies heel. If bruises stayed that long she’d have enough evidence from a year ago to build a real case. They do not, however, so Regulus is just left with the knowledge of it and that hollow feeling in her chest like someone had a big scoop and Regulus’ heart was a tub of Ben & Jerries.

She continues down the aisle in a bit of a daze. Eggs, oatmilk, protein bars, Earl Grey, Spaghetti and Fusilli because Barty is a fussy shithead that won’t eat other forms of pasta.

They meet again in the snack aisle, Regulus rounding the corner and finding Barty curled over her cart, studying the back of a honey puffs packet.

She’s gnawing on her bottom lips, rosy mouth pursed to the side and the line between her eyebrows deep and pulled low beneath her fringe and Regulus watches some of the longer brown hair slip over her shoulder and to the front. The round muscle is bare, freckled, and so are her arms because last week Barty made it her mission to go through Evan’s closet and cut off the sleeves of his every one of his t-shirts.

Regulus had been furious.

She misses him desperately. Pandora and Sirius, too. The very first night she’d slept in her best friend’s bed, clad in one of Sirius’ softest shirts. Regulus doesn’t remember a time she’d wept herself to sleep so harshly.

Barty had come and gotten her after 32 hours of refusing to leave the room and dragged her into a shower before plopping her down on one of the kitchen bar stools and making pancakes for her. Whipped cream and blueberries on the side. And then she’d left to go wherever it is she goes every single morning after breakfast until she’s returning for lunch.

She slips the strand of silky straight hair behind her ear now and then glances up when Regulus advances farther into the aisle.

Their eyes meet for a moment, mint and blue gray, clashing, getting caught in each other. Hooks sinking in, ripping at the entangled spots, and when Regulus finds it in herself to break away she feels raw. Chafed. A hotly throbbing ache. Burning.

Regulus looks around in the shelves but she isn’t really seeing any of the things. It takes a moment and then she’s taken aback when she genuinely can’t find the Ritter Sports party mix. It should be right in front of her, nestled between the Kinder stuff and the no name rows of chocolate bars. There’s an empty space on the shelf where they should sit and Regulus blinks at that spot in confusion.

Before she can do more about it the cold metal of a shopping cart grazes Regulus’ naked calf, jolting her and making her look up at Barty where she’s come closer, still lazily draped over the handle of her cart, now sporting an amused expression.

Her smirk is horribly smug and sitting a little lopsided on her unfairly beautiful face, “Lookin’ for something, Black?”

Regulus opens her mouth to respond but then Barty props her chin in one of her palms and cocks her head at an exaggerated angle, pointedly letting her gaze wander over the shelf Regulus is standing in front of numbly. And then up.

Regulus blinks again and then follows her line of sight automatically. She sweeps her gaze back around and up and then spots the chocolates where they’re perched on the very top of the shelf. Neatly set up over the row of Reezes there.

All the way up there and impossible for Regulus to reach.

Her favorite chocolates.

Barty had taken the time to put every last of Regulus’ favorite chocolates on the top of that shelf with such care for order she’s never once applied to their pantry in the months they’d lived together back when they were a couple.

Regulus feels her browns knit, eyes burning with anger and when she looks over she watches the smile on Barty’s face turn wider. That’s about all Regulus is able to take.

Her chin starts crinkling and she feels her lips start to wobble despite the way she’s biting down on the inside of her lower one hard enough to draw blood. There’s nothing Regulus can do against the tears shooting into her eyes and the way her throat starts to clog up before, pathetically, a single sob escapes her.

And then she’s crying. Full on, shoulders shaking with it and Barty’s smile falls.

She looks properly panicked and the cart gets shoved to the side, colliding loudly with the opposite shelf, and then she’s there to pull Regulus into a hug.

Her head hangs uselessly as she weeps into the crook of Barty’s arm and chest, deep heaving sobs as Barty cradles her head and holds her tight by the shoulders.

“Hey, hey,” Barty mumbles, voice strained, “I’m sorry, Reg, I’m sorry. I’ll get them back down.”

Regulus uselessly ruts her face into the naked skin, tasting salty shame in the corners of her lips.

“Every single one of them, I’ll get them all down, baby. I’m sorry,” she whispers, breath hot on the crown of Regulus curls.

Regulus finds her hands fisted into the material of Barty’s shirt, clutching at it numbly while she tries to swallow the sobs, “I hate you.”

Barty nods above her, “I know, baby,” and if Regulus didn’t know any better she'd think she hears shame and regret mixed into the words. “I know.”

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longeyelashedtragedy · 1 month

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day 8 (pls Ignore)

(warning: cousincest, drug use, uhhh...nutella in a sex act. references events that happen earlier. this is semi-set in a real place, but only the author needs to know where. part of a first draft.)

Louise wakes up and rolls onto her back to stretch.

The sun isn’t quite fully up yet. The roof of the Big House casts a shadow over the weak light like a cloud that won’t move. Louise can’t remember the last time she went into the house.

Louise recites the count that she has been doing every morning. She doesn’t know who put the words in her head. “Yesterday was Day Seven. Today is Day Eight. They said it would take nine days to reach us and bring us back to London.”

So Louise has one more day until They come, if the count is right. But she doesn’t remember who They are, if she ever knew. And she doesn’t think she wants to go back to London.

When she thinks of London she doesn’t think. She feels a pit open up in her stomach instead. What if when They come, she just says no? What if she says she’ll never go back?

And instead she watches them turn around, bound for the open ocean again, with her toes curling into the cool, wet sand?

That’s what she’ll do. She’ll stay here where she belongs.

The sunlight is so weak and sad this time of day. Louise does not like that. Weak and sad—reminds her of something, Reminds her of London, she thinks, and whatever it was about London that opens a pit in her stomach. She wants the heat and strength of noon and then the chilly, giddy relief of night, repeating over and over again for the rest of her life. If They don’t take her back she’ll spend the rest of her life here.

The voice in her head that sounds just like her interrupts. “Louise, remember, yesterday was Day Seven. Today is Day Eight. They said it would take nine days to reach us and bring us back to London.”

Louise frowns at herself. “Us?” She thinks she’s asked this before. The thought seems all wrong. She and Christine are all alone here, and they haven’t spoken to anyone else, haven’t asked to be rescued. She remembers them hooking pinkies together, just the other night it was, lying underneath the explosion of stars and the frightening column of the Milky Way.

-The stars are amazing, Louise, it’s so much more beautiful than London, isn’t it?

-So let’s not go back. We can do whatever we want here. I think this is the only place like that in the world.

Louise wants to nudge her partner in this new life awake so she can remember it all over again. She nudges empty space.

She turns her head. She sits up.

There’s no one beside her on the sand-stained blankets, no one standing in the cool morning water, no one sitting on the dark, wet rocks. She sees a scattering of empty glass bottles in the sand. Have they drunk this much, really? She is not supposed to be alone here. She doesn’t think she has been. She digs through the pile of clothes next to her for proof that she hasn’t been alone. It’s all summery clothes, beach things, but she can’t remember wearing any of it. A couple of the pieces are torn, deliberately, exaggeratedly, and Louise moves past them quickly. She can think about that later once this morning is sorted out. At the bottom of the pile’s a pair of lace underwear, very delicate, though dirty now from being half-buried in the sand. It’s not something you’d wear to spend your life on the beach, and the colors are bothering Louise very much. Royal blue, white accents. Royal blue and white. Louise feels like these colors are important together, but it’s hurting her head trying to remember.

Louise, today is Day Eight. Are you sure you can’t remember anything anymore? What will you do tomorrow when they come to take you all home?

“You all?” she asks herself, panicked, but herself is silent. Royal blue and white and she’s woken up alone.

She runs. She runs clumsily over the dunes, sand flying out from under her feet in all directions, slowing her down when she has to go fast. As desperate as she is she stops short, her heart pounding. She’s halfway to the Big House and she’s just now realized she’s got no clothes on. She doesn’t want Frank to see her naked.

“Frank? Who the fuck is Frank?”

She sees a freckled, round face in her mind, just for a moment, and then he leaves her, but Frank leaves something else behind.

A husband. She has a husband up there in that big fucking ugly house.

On his third run through the house Frank checks each bedroom carefully.

Really, it would be stupid to think there was anyone in the house but him and Jamie. There’s no one. The rooms are empty. He hasn’t seen anyone or heard anyone talking, and really, the proof is in the Nutella still dried to the kitchen counter. If there were anyone within a five-mile radius of the place they would have walked in on him and Jamie last night, seen Jamie high out of his mind painting Frank with Nutella, seen Frank draping his legs over Jamie’s shoulders and shivering from the cool of the marble countertop pressed against his bare back, seen Jamie’s wild, coked-out eyes as he went back and forth from fucking Frank to dragging his tongue through the chocolate hazelnut.

Frank is surprised Dad wasn’t banging on the fucking door by this point. I know what you’re up to in there!

But he feels like there ought to be other people here. It can’t be just him and Jamie. Dad wouldn’t let him and Jamie do this, even though they’re grown adults in their fucking 30s.

On his fourth run through the house Jamie is still drooling on the kitchen counter. He slaps Jamie’s pretty face a little, but in a loving sort of way. He wishes it really were only him and Jamie in the world, always, with no one to bother them.

Jamie groans.

“Jamie, come on. I need to stay fit and I feel like I was supposed to have a running partner. Get up.”

“Fuck you, Franko,” Jamie says, his words slurred. “...Trying to sleep.”

Frank leans down and kisses each of Jamie’s sticky cheeks. Jamie really is so beautiful. They must have gotten this house just for the two of them. A cousins’ vacation, just two lads. A honeymoon. He kisses Jamie’s mouth, in that case. Jamie groans again.

“You’re minty,” he says.

“Well, yeah, I’ve brushed my teeth like I do every morning. It’s our vacation, I wanted to get up and do something.”

“Look at you…little perfect GCSEs Franko. Give me an hour.”

Frank sighs. The strange honeymoon house with its glass stairs and views of nothing but sand dunes and ocean feels like it’s getting to him. He finds he can’t remember how long he and Jamie have been here. The kitchen just gets dirtier. The air is stagnant, heavy with silence.

“I’m going to go run on the beach,” he says. “Sand’s good resistance. Dad would be proud of me.”

“I’m proud of you,” Jamie gurgles.

Frank hears his own voice in his head as he has every morning as he jogs toward the front door. Today’s your last full day. They’re coming to take you all back to London tomorrow.

“Uh, can I take Jamie home with me?” he asks himself.

Don’t you know the answer? Think carefully.

Frank gets to the front door then. He swings it open and freezes–becomes frozen–with his eyes glued wide open to the path leading down to the ocean. There’s something blocking the path.

Don’t you know the answer? Think carefully.

Frank slams the door and locks it behind him and dashes like mad for his final lap. Lungs and heart and adrenaline working seamlessly together like the athlete that he is. Frank Lampard Junior. Jamie. The names he knows.

But there are two other names.

Two other names, two sets of eyes. One staring up at him from the bottom of the front steps. One wide and panicked on the path.

“Jamie, Jamie. Jamie. Wake the fuck up.” Frank doesn’t wait for him to move. He lifts Jamie’s head up by the hair to see what remains of the white powder. “You’ve got any more of this shit?”

“Yeah, in my suitcase. You have no idea the fucking crazy places I had to hide it. Louise would kill–”

And Jamie sits straight up, awake, sobered up and detoxed by just two syllables. “Wait. Who the fuck is Louise?”

“Jamie, I don’t know, but I also think she’s outside the house.”

“Why? Why is there someone named Louise outside our house? This is our house. Are we safe?” Jamie stands up and wobbles on his feet. Jamie Jamie anxious Jamie. Frank grabs him and holds him to his chest. “Shh, shh. Jamie, Jamie.”

“Are the steak knives sharp enough?”

“Jamie, it’s okay. I think. Louise is outside. She can’t get in, the door is locked. She has a…friend. Something. Someone’s with her. She was looking at me and I think she was crying.”

“Franko, I don’t like this!”

“They don’t have any weapons that I could see, okay Jamie? We’ll just stay in here, in our house. They’ll go away. Can you go get me some of this shit now?” He flicks the white powder off the countertop. “Not in the mood for your hiding spots.”

“Okay, but.” Jamie grabs one of the steak knives before he leaves the kitchen. It’s greasy even though it’s probably been washed. Maybe it’s been washed. Frank wishes he could have gone for his run on the beach, but the two women are probably still out there, both Louise, whoever she might be, and the one with tear-streaks down her dirty cheeks. He knows her name too, he thinks. But if he thinks it, he’ll probably remember why he felt a moment of guilt looking down at her. And maybe this is his and Jamie’s last day together. So why waste time, really?

Something is bump bump bumping against the door. “Christine, why are you coming back here? Our home is the beach, we said we’d never come to the big house again!”

Frank puts his hands over his ears.

#wir schlafen sicher bis zum morgen #fic saga #funnily i've written the day when the 'factions' kind of converge again #days 2-7 are Not like that #well day 2 starts 'normal' with Franko in Jamie's bed hahaha

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ghouletteanon · 1 year

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Mushy May: Day 1 - Bathtime

It's Mushy May, it's Mountain Monday so of course I'll combine the two. Cumulus helping Mountain with his mane of hair, very mushy and affectionate. Bathing in a sauna counts as bath time, right?

Word count: 498. Rating: T, non-sexual nudity

“Be a dear and lean back for me,” Cumulus gently pushes Mountain with a soft hand on his back, and he complies with a fond smile. She had ambushed him in the garden shed earlier, dragging him to the baths after a long day in the gardens. She had already run him through a gauntlet, making him wash off the worst dirt in the lake before she sat him down on the bottom bench in the large sauna. The sauna is still warm, but nowhere as hot as when the fire ghouls bathed which suited Mountain and Cumulus just fine. It was just the two of them, unglamoured for once as there are no siblings around. Mountain’s antlers are almost as wide as the bench he’s sitting on, almost towering over Cumulus who is sitting on the top bench.

Mountain closes his eyes, feeling Cumulus scratch his scalp as she gently begins detangling the crow’s nest that Mountain’s mane has become. She passes the homemade bar of conditioner through his hair, the smell of lavender from Mountain’s personal garden spreading in the warm room. Taking care of his hair is a two-ghoul type of job, and he’s grateful that Cumulus has taken it upon herself to help him out. He usually ignores styling his hair, just putting his hair in a bun to get it out of the way when working in the garden but it is the night before they leave for tour, and it must be done. Lake water left his hair soft, unlike the water in the hotel rooms that made matted fur even worse.

Mountain starts purring when Cumulus starts just running her fingers through his hair, the tangles dealt with. Going back on tour feels much less daunting now that he’s warm all over and there are no knots pulling his scalp. Cumulus stops at some point, and Mountain registers that Cumulus asked a question. “I’m going to start rinsing now, alright baby?”

Mountain blinks sheepishly, having dozed off in the warmth of the room. “Yeah, sorry. Of course.”

“It’s alright, dear.” Cumulus chuckles, affection clear in her tone as she picks up the water basin and carefully pours it over Mountain’s hair, making sure none gets in the earth ghouls hair even as he scrubs out the leftover conditioner. “I’ll just wash your back and then you can get some sleep before we leave tomorrow.”

“Join me tonight?” Mountain asks, unsure if the ghoulette would even consider it as she usually holed up together with the rest of the ghoulettes.

“Of course,” Cumulus assures him as she lathers up the soap and then starts scrubbing Mountain’s back. “Copia will probably assign me and the girls together on tour again. I’ll miss my big boy.”

Mountain’s purrs rumble echo through the empty sauna again as Cumulus works in silence. Tomorrow, they would be confined in a small space with all the other band ghouls but tonight they could enjoy the sweet, sweet silence.

#fanfiction #the band ghost fanfiction #mushy may #cumulus ghoulette #mountain ghoul #unbeta'd #mountain monday #they're bathing in a finnish type of sauna that's basically a big room with two rows of benches #with a sauna stove and next to it a water heater #there's also no running water in this type of sauna so wash basins are required #ga writes

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carbo-ships · 9 months

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Okay I'm sorry to bug you but I'm so stupid. How are you guys making the yumeship things? Like the background and stuff is there a program y'all are using to get it? I've been trying on my phone and I don't know how y'all get them so perfect looking 😭 please explain it like I'm 5. If that's too much work, feel free to ignore this/delete this no hard feelings I'm just incredibly dumb 🥲😅

No worries at all!

I do it on my computer in my drawing software. If you don't have one, you can probably achieve just about everything that needs doing using this free software:

I'll break it down step by step how I made mine below the cut. there are lots of pictues. i hope this makes sense. we'll be recreating my Aether/Ardis one for this tutorial.

here is what we are going to do today

So step 1 is to download the template

I like using the transparent version because I find it easiest to edit for my purposes, but feel free to use the other ones as well if there's one you prefer. you'll just skip the first couple steps of this tutorial. Open it up in your software. I'm using Paint Tool SAI. It should look like this.

First, I'll drag in the background that I want and put it on a layer underneath the template. It will look something like this (you can also use a flat color, whatever you want)

Now I want to fill in the big boxes so that I can actually read the text, so I'll go back to the template layer and magic wand select the main bit of empty space (blue shows what's selected),

then invert it (there is probably a button for this on your software)

now I'll make another layer under the template and bucket fill what i want to be white

you can color in extra things you want to change the color of on this layer too, or just leave it as-is. I'm going to spruce it up a bit, though.

ok great. now i'm going to change the grey text boxes to be white because the light grey clashes with my pastels. this may not be necessary for yours. you can bucket fill those too on the main template, but I'm going to use what's called a clipping layer on SAI, which basically means that it's a layer that only draws on top of things that already exist in the layer under it (this may or may not exist in the software you're using, but do whatever works for you). so i'm going to make a new clipping layer over the template and color white over all the grey parts.

much better. it's time to cut out where we want our pictures to go. I find it easiest to work when I treat all the boxes like picture frames, kinda like how the ones in the bottom right are. there are other ways to do this, but this is my prefered method. so we're going to go to our template layer and magic wand select everywhere we want a picture to go (once again now highlighted in blue)

and delete those from both our template layer and our white layer. it should look like this now

so now all you do is drag in your pictures so that they're underneath your template, erasing any parts that stick out

and then you just add text and little rectangles and whatnot! (I added mine in a different program because my art software doesn't have a text feature)

I made a couple other adjustments to mine (black circle around the one photo, getting rid of the line at the bottom of the aesthetic trio) by just editing the template layer.

and that's it! all done! does that make sense? i hope that makes sense. if i skipped over anything vital or if that makes no sense, let me know.

#carbos tutorials #tldr it's not like HARD hard to do but it does take a little while

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hellfiremunsonn · 2 years

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Steve Freaking Harrington.

AN: ALRIGHT WELL I SAID I WAS WRITING A STEVE FIC AND I REALLY FUCKIN DID. It’s a slow burn so if you just want the smut part you’ll have to scroll for quite a while. I got a little carried away. I’m gunna call it “Part One” for now until I know what or where I'm going with it but I really hope you all enjoy it. Please let me know if there is anything I didn’t tag, or if you have any feedback.

I do not allow my writing to be republished anywhere other than my own blog without my consent

18 + IF YOU ARE NOT 18 OR OLDER DO NOT READ OR INTERACT WITH MY WRITING. IT IS NOT INTENDED FOR MINORS. I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE MEDIA YOU CONSUME.

Word count: 7705

Warnings: blood, talk of self harm, mentions of past self harm scars, fem reader, Dom Steve if you squint, unprotected sex (please always use protection), p in v, m oral receiving, fingering, m an f orgasm

StevexReader

It was another long and boring day at Family Video. One of those days where I often just stood at the counter shifting my weight from foot to foot staring at the clock and trying to ignore whatever shitty move was playing on the tv behind me. Robin scribbled doodles on a scrap piece of paper and Steve hung around on the other side of the counter, leaning on his elbows with his head in his hands. "This is brutal" Steve said sighing.

"At least you don't have to go to school tomorrow" Robin muttered, still doodling.

I smiled a little. It became so familiar to listen to them bicker back and fourth. They were like an old married couple. "Ahh yes the young child complains about getting her education while not having to pay rent" I said side eyeing her.

"Okay I'm eighteen, which means legally I'm an adult so" she said raising her eyebrows. Steve and I shared a look before laughing.

"Just because you're eighteen doesn't mean you're not a kid, believe me" I thought back when I thought everything would change when I turned eighteen. It's a big deal for no real reason other than legally being an adult. You still can't drink, you're still in high school, and for most people, still living under their parents roof with everything paid for. But in the end you still were a kid who was clueless about the world. I wouldn't go as far to say that about Robin considering how mature she really was despite being as goofy as she is.

"Were you the one who got stuck in a Russian lab, or dungeon? Basement maybe? I'm not even sure what is was, but was that you? No it wasn't" she said crumpling up her doodle filled paper and throwing it at my head.

"Hey!" I sad rubbing my forehead where the crinkled ball had poked me before landing on the floor. "Listen I was probably laying in bed states away blissfully unaware, so no, I can't relate to that" I grabbed the paper ball and threw it into the trash, glancing at the clock again groaning I made my way over to the shelves and started spacing everything way too neatly just to pass time.

About an hour later I was now sitting on the floor still spacing each movie apart but now on the opposite side of the store when Robin came out of the back room loudly swinging her backpack over her shoulder. "Well see ya later losers, have fun closing up" And with a wink she was out the door. I gave her a quick wave and continued my spacing.

"(Y/N)?" Steve called.

"Over here!" I said peaking around one of the shelves.

"Why are you on the floor?" He said standing next to me.

"Because why would I stand up to do the bottom shelf?" I said back. Looking up at him. He was so beautiful. And he knew it, which made him more unbearable because he knew what to do, and when to do it, and who to do it too, so he could get the right reaction out of them. We became friends quite quickly when I started working at Family Video mainly from how much time we spent alone in the empty store, but also because Robin forced him to train me when I started so she wouldn't have to. I definitely don't blame her for that because training the newbie is always kind of boring. Although I had to thank her for that because if it wasn't for her distaste in training I don't know if I would have ever gotten as close to Steve as I have if he wasn't the one spending all that extra time training me.

After a few short months of getting to know Steve and opening up to him. I told him about how my home life wasn't exactly ideal and offered to let me stay in one of his spare bedrooms. His house was massive and his parent's rarely home, not that they minded me. They really liked me actually. I tried to deny Steves offer until one fairly rough night at home got just a little too much. So at two am he drove to my house, helped me pack up my belongings and took me 'home'. I refused to stay there without paying rent, and although Steve was very against it I kept sending the money to his parents so he couldn't stop me. All he had to do was give me that 'Steve Harrington' look and I would have caved and not payed him or his parents a single penny.

I always felt like he could see right through me. Like every time those brown eyes made their way to mine that he was reading every thought that entered my mind and could tell how I was feeling. Maybe it was just because he was supposedly good with women, or maybe he just started to figure out how to be good with me? It was a thought I had often of him and I together, not always rated G and I would never admit it to Robin let alone him. Robin picked up on my crush rather quickly and would teased me about it often but it was our little secret and Steve really hated that we had a secret. He hated not being apart of it especially with two of his closet friends but I just couldn't tell him.

I wasn't really part of his crowd, even with all the fourteen year olds, and I never wanted to push my luck and force myself onto them or into their group. I knew they were all super close and that Steve cared for each of them as if they were his own children. It was cute seeing him take on this paternal instinct around them, like it was so natural and he had been doing it his whole life. Maybe it was because his parents weren't really around and he kind of had to parent himself.

His parents being MIA would definitely explain his old reputation I heard so much about from Robin. "King Steve" they would call him, and apparently he was a bit of a dick, but that changed, and he never went back to being that person. I'm glad I got to know him as the Steve he is now otherwise I'm not so sure we would get along, but together were just a couple of goofs who "Share one brain cell" between the two of us as Robin often tells us.

"Hellooooo" Steve said waving a hand in front of my face snapping me from my thoughts.

"W-what? What's up?" I said trying to act casual.

"You were day dreaming about me again weren't you" He said teasing.

"Again? Bold of you to assume I've day dreamed about you at all, let alone multiple times Harrington" I teased back. Finally standing up from floor, pulling my shorts back down my thighs from bunching I wiggled slightly and sighed. Steve eyed me suspiciously.

"Can you come help me move that big table in the back? A new shipment of snacks and shit should be here in the morning so Keith want's space for it" He said shoving his hands deep into his jeans. Which I didn't even think was possible, considering how wonderfully tight they were.

"Yes sir!" I said giving him a salute and making my way to the back. "I hate this table" I said standing at one end of it, my hands cuffed around the metal edge ready to lift. "Why?" Steve questioned going to the other end. "It's just a table" he said and laughed as he lifted his end. Nodding his head to tell me I was good to lift my end. As I lifted it pain seared through my palm and I gritted my teeth as we slowly shimmied to get the table to the other side of the room. Dropping my end of the table abruptly I grabbed my hand quickly noticing blood dripping from it. I hopped up and down muttering profanities until Steve asked me what was wrong.

"Fucking stupid table, I told you I didn't like, and it fucking cut me!" I said holding up my hand while still holding it with my other hand attempting to keep the bleeding at bay not knowing how bad the cut actually was.

"Jesus Christ (Y/N) you're bleeding everywhere!" Steve said rushing to the bathroom to retrieve the first aid kid. "No shit Sherlock" I said following him.

"Sit on the toilet" He ordered, closing the lit and gesturing to it with a nod of his head while he kneeled in front of me rummaging through the tiny red box. I tapped my feet frantically up and down while I waited for Steve. "Okay so, we have to clean it, and that's going to hurt a lot even if it isn't as deep of a cut as it looks" he said glancing up at me. I guess he could see the concern on my face and rubbed my knee briefly. "It'll be over before you know it"

I groaned leaning back into the toilet, a few whimpers escaping my mouth as the pain continued. I watched Steve as he carefully set everything up, and even washed his hands before returning to the floor in front of me. Tipping the bottle of rubbing alcohol onto one of the pieces of gauze he steadied himself between my legs and held out his hand. I hesitated clutching my hand a little closer to my chest fearing how bad the alcohol was going to make it sting. Steves eyes softened and his mouth turned up into a small smile. "We gotta get it clean" He said softly. I slowly sat up straight and cautiously gave him my hand finally letting go of it with my other hand. He held it gently in his as he rested it on top of my thigh. "Do you want me to count to three or something?" He asked raising an eyebrow.

"No- Wait! Yes, please. Please count" I said.

"Okay" Steve said taking a deep breath. "One-"

He never made it to three before patting the wet gauze onto my hand and I yelped out but he held my hand in place. "You fucker!" I spat. Tears threatening to spill over.

"Oh you're fine" He said giving my hand a final swipe. "Look it's not even that bad! Just a little cut" Cutting a smaller piece of fresh gauze he placed it onto my palm and used medical tape to keep it in place. I watched as his fingers worked delicately around my hands, cleaning off the excess blood. I could feel my heart beat in my ears, and my skin get hot.

"You're looking a little pale there. You alright?" Steve asked. Resting his hands on my knees.

"I think I might pass out" I said weakly, feeling the tips of my fingers go numb and the room spin slightly.

"Not on my watch, come here" He said as he lifted me off the toilet and onto the floor, positioning my arms and legs so I was sat with my head between my legs. "Alright I need you to take some slow deep breaths okay? In through your nose and out through your mouth"

I did as he said and only lifted my head when the heart beat in my ears faded and the room stopped spinning. Taking a final deep breath I leaned back resting my head against the bathroom wall.

"There's that colour coming back to that pretty face" Steve said rubbing my cheek lightly with his thumb. I hummed, closing my eyes and leaning into his warm palm. Realizing what I was doing I cleared my throat and moved away from his hand. "Thank you for uh" I said raising my hand. "Fixing me" I let out an awkward laugh.

"It was my pleasure" He said smiling and standing up. For a moment I thought his cheeks might have been a slight pink but maybe I was just seeing things. I did almost just pass out so I don't know if I fully trust my own brain right now. "Take a minute to take breather, I'll clean up the blood while you do that"

I got up slowly after a few minutes of extra sitting just to make sure I wasn't going to topple over and fall unconscious and hitting my head off of something and then bleeding out in the Family Video bathroom. definitely not how I want to die. Eventually I made my way back out into the store and to the counter where Steve was counting the till whispering the numbers slightly as he flipped through the money.

Scribbling, he ran a hand through his hair before noticing me. "Hey, I grabbed a few accident report papers for you to fill out" He said pointing to them on the counter next to him.

A small laugh bubbled in my chest as I reached for them, folding them into a square and shoving them into my bag knowing I would never actually fill them out. As if reading my thoughts like I always thought he was, he said. "I already filled one out, so don't lie and tell me you're going to fill it out and then never do it"

A blush rose to my cheeks. I don't know how he knew me so well. Maybe I was just really predictable. "Alright, double check this for me and then we are good to go" He said holding his pen out towards me. I grabbed it and stood on my tippy toes, leaning against the counter as I tapped the numbers into the calculator. "Still can't do the math in your head?" Steve whispered, not wanting to disrupt my counting. "Shut it Harrington" I mumbled giving a final check and my signature to the paper. Throwing the pen down onto the counter I raised my good hand for a high five which Steve reciprocated with a dramatic wave of his hand before slapping it against mine and giving it a light squeeze.

After locking the door behind us I followed slowly behind Steve to his car, waiting at the passenger door for him to unlock it before sliding into the seat. I tucked my knees up to my chest, resting my chin on them and wrapped my arms around them tightly. It was hard being around Steve all the time and I knew that living with him was going to be even harder, but I had only been there for a few weeks. Sitting in my room with my door always open out of habit, he would walk by fresh out of the shower, a towel hung low on his waist, his happy trail sparkling with drops of water still stuck to it. He never caught me staring in those moments thankfully, but it didn't stop me from wanting to kick down his door and kiss him.

"You okay?" Steve said breaking the silence.

"Yeah, just in my own head" Which wasn't a lie, I just couldn't tell him what exactly was going through my mind.

"What's going on in that pretty little head of yours" He asked turning down his street.

"It's nothing you need to worry about" I said forcing a smile. When he pulled up into the drive way I got out quickly, almost too quickly as I heard Steve hiss from behind me when I opened the car door before it was fully stopped.

I silently cursed at myself when I got to the front door realizing it was locked and that once again I had to wait for Steve. We still hadn't gone out to get a new copy of the house key for me, so I had to rely on him for another fucking thing.

"Please don't do that again, I could have ran over your foot or something, and I do not think I could deal with that complaining" He said walking in front of me, my shoulder slightly brushing his arm in the process, causing goosebumps to raise on my skin. He unlocked the door and opened it, gesturing with his arm for me to enter first which I did quickly. I sped up the stairs, the sound of my converse slapping against the hardwood as I went. Reaching my room I belly flopped collapsing onto my bed, breathing in the familiar scent of Steves laundry detergent on my blankets. I kicked off my shoes still laying on my stomach and heard them hit the floor with a thud. What the hell was I going to do? This crush is getting worse by the minute and I think I might actually explode. I felt like a bottle of unopened coke that had been shaken so severely that it might just burst without the seal of its plastic lid ever breaking.

I was growing annoyed with myself and obviously Steve. Because why did he have to be so fucking nice to me? No one was this nice to me, not even my parents. The people around town, knew me as that 'drunk dudes daughter' and even though I don't go to school with them, those preppy teenagers bullied me as if they had known me for years. As if I didn't have enough of my own thoughts to bully me. I pulled one of my sleeves up looking at the thin white raised scars along my wrist and forearm. Tracing them with my fingers I sighed and pulled my sleeve back down over them. It was a habit I finally recovered from, but still sometimes I found myself yearning for that familiar release. No one in I knew Hawkins knew about it. The weather had still been cold enough when I first moved here that I could always wear sweaters and long sleeves without it being questioned. I dreaded the warm weather that had started to creep in weeks ago and I forced myself into a pair of shorts today before going to work. But it was always chilly inside the store so again the sleeves weren't questioned.

A soft knock from behind me is what broke me out of my thoughts. Rolling my head to the side and out of the corner of my eye Steve stood leaning against the doorframe of my room not daring to enter it without permission like a vampire. "Hi" I said quietly. "Come in" I rolled over and sat up crossing my legs.

Steve came in and sat in the chair at my desk. "What's going on with you?" He said looking at me.

"What do you mean?" I said pretending to be confused.

"I don't know you've been weird all day, and the getting out of the car before it was stopped?" He shrugged leaning back. "It's not like you, you usually talk to me" his eyes were soft and a worried expression slowly formed in his face.

Without telling him exact details, I took a deep breath and said. "I have a crush..." My cheeks felt hot and I avoided eye contact by picking at a loose thread in one of my socks.

"You have a crush" Steve repeated. I nodded. "It's been consuming every waking moment of my brain, and I don't know how much longer I can cope with it, I want to like" I stopped furrowing my brows thinking of the words. "-Like peel my skin off"

Steve stifled a laugh as I finally looked up at him. "Don't laugh it's not funny!"

He held his hands up in defence trying his best to suppress his laughing. "Okay I'm sorry, it's not funny. Does he have a girlfriend or something?" He questioned.

"Or she, don't be so quick to assume Harrington" I said smirking. "I mean have you seen women?"

"I have actually yeah" he laughed. "Okay so why can't you confront this 'crush'" he said using air quotes around the word crush.

"Because it's just one of those things, it would ruin everything, especially if he didn't like me back" I said the last part more quietly than intended. "I'm just waiting for it to fade, but its hard, and there's only so many cold showers I can take"

Steve choked, coughing into his fist. He shifted, seeming a little uneasy. "So why don't you... You know..." he trailed off.

"The word is masturbate Steve" I said laughing.

"Yeah I know" he said annoyed. "Its just hard to imagine you doing that"

"I don't think it's that hard" I stated leaning my back against my wooden headboard.

He stood up abruptly. "Alright I'm leaving, I'm tired" he said walking towards the door.

"Can't handle the thought Harrington?" I said teasing, getting up to rummage around for some comfy clothes.

"I really can't" He said giving me slow side smile as he walked down the hall to his bedroom and shut the door.

I stood up frozen, an old pink tank top held tightly in my hands wincing a little at my bandaged palm. What the hell was that? I glanced towards my door where he no longer stood with my mouth open in confusion. Shaking my head I walked into our shared bathroom, brushing my teeth and washing my face. I could feel the summer heat invading the house already and frowned. Lastly I cleaned my hand taking off the bandage giving it time to breathe and finally made my way into bed.

I woke up to heat. So much heat. Sitting up in my bed I felt the back of my tank top cling to me and the skin of my thighs that had been touching were slick with sweat. Why was it so fucking hot? Stumbling out of bed even my bare feat stuck to the floor as I made my way down stairs. Steve stood in the middle of the kitchen, tools splayed out all over the counters, a bead of sweat dripping down the side of his face and onto his shoulder, his naked chest slightly shiny as the sweat clung to his chair. A pair of old basketball shorts hanging just a little lower on his hips than they should be. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand before noticing me standing in front of him.

"AC is broken" He said frowning.

"Fuck me" I said running my hands through my hair. Only now realizing I was stood in front of him in a very short and tight tank top and a pair of pink pajama shorts. His eyes glanced down and back up quickly before clearing his throat and continuing his search for whatever specific tool he was looking for. "What are you even doing? Do you know how to fix it?" I questioned.

"No I don't have a fucking clue how to fix it (Y/N)" He said clearly annoyed, while planting his palms flat onto the counter with a light smack to look up at me.

"Sorry" I said shrinking into my shoulders a little. I didn't mean to upset him.

"No, no" He wiped his forehead again. "I'm sorry, I'm just hot and frustrated, I didn't mean to snap"

"It's okay" I said giving him a sly smile. "it was kind of hot?" I admitted.

"Hot? What being rude?"

"Yeah a little" I said biting my lip to stifle a laugh. "I mean I'm sure you've been mean, like sexually to girls in bed right?"

He scratched the back of his head. "Well I mean yeah" His cheeks turning a little more pink than they already were.

"So then there you go" I said clapping my hands together. I walked towards to fridge opening the freezer grabbing a red popsicle from the box at the back.

"Breakfast?" He smirked. I saluted him with the popsicle in hand. "I'm getting in the pool" I stated, walking past him and out the back door sitting down on the ledge of the pool sticking my feet in. Ripping the plastic off of the popsicle I popped the end of it into my mouth swirling it around. The water was cold and I shivered as it touched my skin but it felt so good. I moaned a little, leaning back onto my hand letting my head fall back. The sun wasn't high enough in the sky yet to burn me just yet, and I watched as it sprinkled through the leaves of the trees. A slight breeze came and went every so often and it really helped along with my nearly melted popscile. It was better than the stale hot air from inside the house. Sliding the last bit of it off of the wooden stick I gave my hands a quick rinse with the pool water.

I heard some loud banging and then the back door open aggressively and Steve stomped out, clearly still frustrated. Sitting down next to me he sighed, the cold water very obviously instantly calming him.

"I called my parents, they said someone will come to fix the AC tomorrow" He said quietly.

"Okay" I said softly while swinging my feet back and fourth in the water, listening to the rippling noises. I leaned back so my back was now flat against the concrete and rolled my tank top until it sat right under my boobs. If I was going to be out here I might as well try to work on my tan. I traced patterns lazily along my stomach and felt myself relaxing into my own touch.

The phone ran from inside of the house and I squinted, only opening one eye to look over at Steve who sighed before getting up to go answer it. Leaning back up onto my elbows I decided to finally just get into the water. Getting up and walking to the shallow end and walked down the few steps until I was waist deep, my hands swaying around me in the water. I would have put on a swim suit but I had no intention of going back into that hell hot house unless absolutely necessary. Taking a deep breath I dipped my head under the water standing back up gasping lightly at the cold temperature against my chest. It was almost euphoric how good the water felt.

Steve emerged again from the house and resumed his position at the edge of the pool. "The children want to come and use the pool, and because I can't say no to those little shit heads, they'll be here in fifteen"

I laughed lightly while continuing to swirl the water around me with my hands. "You and those tiny children"

"You can't call them tiny, most of them are taller than you" Steve said kicking water towards me. "You're literally in the shallow end of a pool and it's almost at your boobs"

I rolled my eyes and attempted to splash him back but the water didn't reach him as much as I wanted to. "Will you ever let me live it down that I'm short?"

"Never" he said smiling. I watched his eyes glance down clearly at my chest and then back up, craning his neck pretending to look at the sky.

Blushing I looked down, realizing the tank top I was wearing was almost see through. Panicking I covered my chest crossing my arms and hooking my hands into my armpits for maximum protection. Before I could speak, I heard the loud voices of the young gang approaching the backyard. "Shit" I mumbled and sunk down into the water so it would cover my exposed chest.

"Steve I need you to get me a different shirt" I said quietly.

"Oh why?" He said jokingly. "Don't want a bunch of teenagers seeing your nipples?" He glanced down again quickly.

"Stop flirting and go get me a different shirt please" I begged through gritted teeth.

The kids stumbled into the backyard yelling, laughing, and pushing each other. "(Y/N)!" Max yelled running over to the edge of the pool closet to me. "I was really hoping I wasn't going to be the only girl out here, because if I spend one more minute with them, my brain might actually start losing IQ points"

I let out a small laugh, still keeping my shoulders below the water. The boys instantly jumped into the pool, and began beating each other with pool noodles they brought along with them. Max sat at the edge of the pool, sunglasses on and a book in her hands with a small towel hung over her freckled shoulders, probably preventing herself from getting sun burnt.

Eventually Steve finally returned, one of his t-shirts in hand, and a bunch of towels tucked under his arm. I swam back over to the edge of the pool and held my hand out so he could pass it to me, and he almost did, but instead hesitated and stepped back with a smirk on his face. He walked back a bit and placed it on one of the lounge chairs. "Shirts here if you still need it" He said pointing down to it.

"Steve can you bring it to me please?"

"Nah I think you can come and get it"

I groaned. "Steve can you please just bring it to me, I don't have time for your stupid mind games right now"

That caused a few chuckles out of the boys and I smiled.

"What's the problem?" Max asked. "Why won't he give you the shirt?"

"Because he's annoying" I said matter of factly.

"Why don't you just go and get it?" Dustin asked.

"Because she doesn't want everyone to see her boobs" Steve said laughing slightly.

The boys all groaned and I even heard one of them mutter "Gross" turning their attention back to each other, and although I wanted to laugh at them for being so immature I held my glare at Steve.

What game is he trying to play right now? I stared at him mouth agape not knowing what to do, or what was going on in that big head of his. And then he slowly licked his lips, his tongue darting out briefly and then I knew. He was coming onto me. But why? And why now? Was this is normal friendly flirting that he does with me and Robin all the time, or was this actual flirting, because if he is actually flirting right now, the heat that is barreling down onto my back from the sun is not helping the rising temperature growing throughout my body.

So mustering all the courage I had, I walked slowly over to the steps dunking my head under the water again one last time before beginning to walk up and out of the pool while smoothing my hair back out of my face. I walked towards Steve, and squeezed the water out of the side of my tank top knowing he was watching my every move. I stood in front of him, looking up at him through my wet lashes and reached for the bottom of my top before lifting it over my head leaving me completely bare chested in front of him. His breath hitched and I watched him swallow hard, his Adams apple bobbing as he did so. Reaching down for the shirt, still not breaking eye contact I pulled it over my head.

"Don't forget to blink there big boy" I said patting his chest and walking past him back into the house.

Once I was about halfway up the stairs I let out a breath I was apparently holding. "Holy shit" I whispered. I shook my head and headed to the bathroom to wash the chlorine off of my skin, and to maybe cool down a little extra, away from everyone. Stripping myself of my wet clothes I turned the shower on, making the water just barely warm enough to not overheat me while in there.

I stood there for a moment, just letting the water fall over me trying to compose my thoughts but the sound of the bathroom door opening distracted me. Leaning around the shower curtain I saw Steve who was shutting the door behind him and locking it before turning to face me. "Uh I'm in the shower?" I stated but it came out more like a question. "Yeah I can see that" He laughed and began to start taking off his shorts.

I quickly avoided any sort of eye contact with him and leaned back into the shower, my hands covering my face. "Steve what the hell, what are you doing?" Eyes still covered I heard the shower curtain move again and felt Steve brush against me.

"I'm showering" He said as if he's done this a million times before, and maybe he had, but not with me.

I stood there, awkwardly silent, unsure of what to say, or what to do next. Steves hands came up, and he placed them gently over mine encouraging me to take them off of my face and I let him but still kept my eyes closed. His thumb rubbed gently over one of my scars and I flinched slightly at the thought of him knowing. He brought my wrist up to his lips and placed a gentle kiss to it. "I'm not going to bite (Y/L/N)" he said softly still holding my hands.

Slowly I opened one eye, peaking out of it slightly to look up at him. "I mean I only bite if you're into that" A small smirk forming at the sides of his mouth.

Instinctively I rolled my eyes and laughed finally looking up at him. He kept his eyes on my face, never once looking down at my naked frame, as if he didn't just see my boobs ten minutes prior to disrupting my shower. "Shouldn't you be watching the kids?"

"They basically left as soon as you did, talking about that board game they play with Eddie Munson"

I nodded slowly and bit my bottom lip.

"That was a bold move back there" he said moving a piece of wet hair that clung to my face, his hand lingering ever so slightly on my cheek.

"I agree" I said turning my head. I didn't know where to look, and looking at him this close to me, would only make things worse, so instead I settled on a tiny crack in the tile just to the left behind him. "Um Steve?" I said quietly, hesitantly glancing at him.

"Yeah?"

"Why are you in the shower with me?" I watched him this time as he was the one to avoid my gaze. His cheeks turning pink, he scratched the back of his head.

"I honestly wasn't thinking straight, I just- I just started walking, and then I couldn't stop seeing you standing in front of me topless in the back of my mind, and so here I am..." He said trailing off. "I think because you finally noticed"

"Noticed what?"

"That I was hitting on you"

"Well yeah it was kind of hard to miss, you've never done that before"

He chuckled, his head leaning back slightly. "I've been hitting on you since the day I met you (Y/N)"

My mouth opened slightly in shock and I stared at him for a moment. "Wait a minute" I said taking a small step back to get a better look at him. "You waited until you were inches away from me, NAKED" I said emphasizing the word naked. "To tell me you've been hitting on me"

"I'll admit it wasn't the best decision I've made, but I had to act quick, I didn't want to go a second more without you knowing, especially with this crush you keep talking about" He sounded almost jealous and now it was my turn to laugh.

"S-Steve" I said in-between laughs. "It's you. You're the one I have a crush on"

We both stared at each other for a moment before bursting into a fit of laughter. I clutched my sides in pain from laughing and Steve held onto one of my shoulders.

"How long has Robin been coaching you?" I asked, still giggling.

"Oh everyday, every fucking day"

"She's been helping me!" I said laughing a little harder again. "Well we can never say she's a bad friend because she didn't tell either of us that we were crushing on each other this whole time"

"I think she might actually be the best after this" He said looking back at me. Finally looking into his eyes I still felt like he could see right through me.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked quietly.

I nodded my head a little too eagerly but he smiled, holding both sides of my face in his hands and kissed me gently on the lips. They were slow, sweet kisses, like we wanted to savour every moment, every feeling, every taste. He lowered his hands to my waist pulling me closer to him, and I wrapped my arms around his neck sinking into the kiss. Breaking the kiss slowly he smiled, "You taste like cherry"

He began to place light kisses along my jaw and down my neck. I tilted my head back slightly to give him more room. Kissing both of my collar bones he stopped looking at me. "You can touch me Steve" I said blushing. He continued kissing my chest, going lower and lower until his tongue quickly grazed my nipple. One hand holding the other boob squeezing lightly, his thumb brushing over my nipple, while he kissed, licked, and sucked onto the other one before returning his mouth to mine.

I felt his hard erection brush against my leg, and I looked down reaching for it and wrapped my hand around it. He groaned into my mouth as I began to jerk him slowly. "We don't have to keep going" He said breathlessly. "I don't want to rush you- Fuuuck you're good at this" his head tilted back and the water ran down his muscular chest. Please with myself I smiled and pepper kisses all over his torso. "I don't want to stop" I said mumbling between kisses against his chest. "I've been thinking about this for far too long to stop now Harrington" I said shifting so I was now knelt in front of him. He didn't notice until I wrapped my mouth around him. A hearty gasp leaving his lips as his head fell forward, his hands instantly going into my hair. I bobbed my head back and fourth swirling my tongue around the tip every so often causing the grip he had in my hair to tighten. "You thought about this?"

"Mhmm" I said still wrapped around him.

"Get up" He ordered tapping me on the shoulder. I pulled back from him, drool rolling down my chin. He pulled me back up kissing me until my back hit the wall of the other side of the shower. "Leg up" He said grabbing my thigh, instructing me to put my foot on the edge of the tub. He turned around, reaching up and pulled down the detachable shower head, changing the setting to something a little stronger. A setting I had used many times before. He stood close to me, as close as he could without ripping the shower head off of the wall, and slowly raised the water up and against my leg until the water rippled against my clit. I jerked back, my ass hitting off the wall and I leaned forward holding onto his bicep. "Holy fuck St-Steve" I said leaning my head against his chest. "If I cum like this, it'll be too much to have sex" I said quickly, finally feeling my orgasm slowly grow.

"No sex, I just want to make you cum" he said shifting beginning to shake the shower head side to side so the water rolled back and forth lightly against my clit.

"No, I want you to fuuuuu-uck. Fuck! Please fuck me Steve" I whimpered my legs beginning to shake. Putting the shower head back in it's place he turned back to me "Don't have to tell me twice"

I clenched my thighs together tightly catching my breath in the brief moment of relief until he slid his hand in between my legs rubbing my clit a few times more. I whined, my mouth falling slack when he added a finger into me curling it upwards. "Please" I begged. "Please, I need you to fuck me, please" He continued to curl his finger into me harshly before abruptly removing it, sticking the finger into his mouth, cleaning myself off of him with his tongue. I reached a hand towards him and whispered "Please" one more time while batting my eyelashes. "I could get used to you begging" He hummed, while bringing me into him, turning me around and trailing kisses down the back of my neck and to my shoulder.

"Steveeee" I breathed and pushed my ass into his dick. He smacked it lightly and I squealed, laughing a little.

"You poor sweet thing" he said opening my legs and positioning himself behind me. I bent over as best as I could and held onto the wall. Swiping the tip of his dick against me, my eyes rolled back and I moaned loudly. "So desperate" his chuckled halted as he slowly inched his tip into me. A small cry left my mouth.

"You okay?" He breathed.

"Never been better" I huffed. "Keep going" I instructed. "I'm okay, it feels good" I reassured him, reaching behind me to pat his hand that held onto my hip.

He nodded furrowing his brows as he slipped the rest of him into me. My knees locking together, pleasure filling my stomach.

"Fucking hell (Y/N)"

My name sounded like honey coming out of his mouth like that. Slowly he began thrusting into me, picking up speed only after reaching down between my legs rubbing light circles. "You feel so good pretty girl" He cooed into my neck, just below my ear. I continued to whine and moan, writhing against him, pushing my ass back into each thrust. He smacked my ass again, my orgasm building more. "Keep fucking yourself on me like that"

And I did. I rocked back and forth attempting to keep my balance as sturdy as I could with the floor being slick with water and the edge of my orgasm trying to burst. I slowed down, unable to keep fucking myself on him with the fast heavy circles he made on my clit. My stomach began to tighten and my breath quickened. "I'm going to cum, don't stop, please don't stop, oh my god, just like that, yes, fuck" I leaned up slightly and he pulled me into him, my arched back against his chest as he continued rubbing. "Cum for me, cum on my cock"

My legs began to tremble and head rolled back as I loudly rode out my orgasm with the most ungodly moans and whimpers. He started to fuck me again holding almost all of my weight. "Cum in my mouth" I slurred, still in the euphoria of my orgasm. Pulling away from him I got back onto my knees in front of him opening my mouth and sticking my tongue out. "Fuck you're so goddamn pretty" He said leaning down to kiss me briefly, jerking himself. The tip of his cock rested on the flat of my tongue as his cum shot out into my mouth. A loud groan leaving his lips in the process. Giving the tip a gently lick up the back I brought his cum to the back of my mouth and swallowed and smiled back up at him.

"Come here beautiful" he said reaching his hands out to me so he could help me stand. I wobbled slightly. Wiping whatever cum was left off of my face with his thumb he kissed me. Slow and gently, just like the first one. "Lets get washed up, and then go watch a movie or something yeah?"

I smiled lazily blinking slowly. "God you're already so fucked out of your mind for me" he laughed.

"What can I say, you did a good job"

He kissed me on the nose before reaching over to grab a loofa and lather it with soap.

We gave ourselves a proper shower, stealing kisses from one another often. When we got out, Steve instructed I stayed in my room until he told me I could come out. I got dressed in a baggy shirt, and some boy short underwear keeping minimal clothing on as the house was still very hot. I heard lots of groaning and shuffling outside of my door. "Are you okay?" I yelled.

"I'm fine!" He huffed.

Another ten minutes later, I was almost falling asleep at my desk when Steve knocked and opened the door. "You can come downstairs now" A large smile spread across his face.

Following him down the stair and into the living room, he stopped motioning his hands towards the floor while saying "Ta-da!"

he had set it all up for a movie night. His mattress laying in the middle, with every pillow in the house, and a couple of thin blankets. Two fans blew cool air towards the bed, and my small stuffed fox and childhood blanket were tucked into one side of the 'bed'. Different snacks were placed onto the coffee table and a few different movies were stacked on top of each other on the floor in front of the TV. Smiling I hopped down onto the bed, cuddling my fox and blanket to my chest, sighing softly into the pillows. Steve came and joined me under the blankets pulling me into him. "I couldn't leave your little buddies all alone in your bed" He said poking the small fox on the head and I stifled a giggle. He kissed the top of my forehead and attempted to pull me closer to him.

It didn't take long for both of us to fall asleep. The sounds of the oscillating fans humming lulled us to sleep quickly before we could even discuss which movie we wanted to watch.

#Stranger things #stranger things 4 #Steve Harrington #Steve #Harrington #AU #Steve Harrington au #Stevexreader #Steve Harrington smut #stranger things smut #Steve Harrington imagine #Steve Harrington blurb #Eddie Munson #Eddie #Munson

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