#please this series: i want to watch you fully again at a stretch | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ewanmitchellcrumbs · 1 year

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Okay I have just binged your Favours ettore works and 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨 I love the way you write so much, it just— idek how to explain it, but it’s just so elegant and fluid, does that make sense????

Anyway, I have not been able to get it out of my mind no matter how much I try, but I keep wondering how ettore would react if he were ever to get jealous?? Bc I def see him as controlling/dominant still like how u were explaining in the first kiss Drabble and the fact he is jealous over the box ! It just sends my mind in a frenzy to think what would he do if he were actually jealous of someone!! If u don’t want to take this request, no worries, I just wanted to voice the idea!!

Again, I am so in love with ur works and appreciate them beyond belief, thanks for writing all these fantasies out for us 💕💕 I hope ur doing well and staying safe

Hello! Sorry for the long wait for this. I hope you enjoy it.

Warnings: Language, violence, choking, smut. Word count: ~1500

Main series masterlist

Author's note: No gods, no masters, no tag lists. Only scabs community label fics. If you find yourself tempted to slap a label on this, please block me instead.

The ship has been in sleep mode for less than an hour when she feels the weight of her bunk dip beside her and the lean hardness of Ettore’s body press against her back.

“Did anyone see you?” She whispers.

“No.” Comes his curt reply, his fingertips biting into the swell of her hip.

She exhales a shaky sigh, heat pooling between her legs as he grinds against the curve of her backside. Parting her thighs on instinct, as his hand snakes between them to drag her underwear to the side, she bites her lip to stifle the wanton moan that almost escapes her as Ettore pushes inside of her.

She clutches the pillow beside her head, her grip vice like at the pleasurable hurt of the initial stretch to accommodate his size. Once fully sheathed within her, he wraps a hand around her throat, pulling her flush to his chest as he sets a relentless pace, his hips snapping rapidly against her.

This is no gentle lovemaking, merely a means for both of them to get off, as per their agreed arrangement.

They remain in the same position for a few moments afterwards, both silently getting their breath back.

“Same time tomorrow, yeah?” He murmurs against the shell of her ear.

She nods. “I’m on daytime work duty with Monte this week, so yeah.”

He tenses up behind her, but with how swiftly he pulls out and leaves the cell, she is sure she must have imagined it. Closing her eyes, she allows sleep to take her, lulled by the satisfying ache between her thighs.

The next day she stands in the galley, her nose wrinkling in disgust as she sniffs the open packet of powder she’s about to dump into the vat of boiling water to prepare the crew’s afternoon meal.

“The food is definitely more edible when you don’t have to see how it’s prepared.” Monte says with a smirk.

She laughs. She likes Monte, he’s easy to talk to and far less intense than most of the others on board the ship. If he suspects anything is going on between her and Ettore, he hasn’t said anything, even after hearing Ettore call him a cockblock, and she is hugely appreciative of his silence.

“Not excited for…” She lifts the packet to read what’s been stamped on the silver foil. “...beef chilli?”

Monte scoffs, taking the package from her and upending it into the boiling water. Both of them watch as it fizzes and expands, looking completely unappetising.

“I’m gonna go sort things out in the scullery.” She tells him. “You okay to finish that off?”

He fires her a mock two fingered salute as she steps backwards. Her arms reach behind her head as she moves away, eager to fix her rapidly loosening ponytail.

“Fuck!” She mutters as she feels the elastic snap around her fingers.

“You good?” Monte calls to her from over his shoulder.

“Yeah, hair tie snapped is all.” She sighs, holding her hair away from her face.

He wipes his hands on his trouser legs, and turns to face her. “Here, let me.” He offers, beckoning her closer.

He takes the snapped elastic from her and she allows him to spin her around as his fingers work deftly to pull her hair back and knot the broken elastic around it. “That should hold until you can replace it.”

“Thanks.” She says with a smile.

She’s about to continue towards the back of the galley, where the scullery is located, when she hears the door crash against the wall with the force of which it’s been thrown open.

There is barely time for her to register the blur of movement as Ettore throws himself towards Monte, knocking him to the ground and punching him.

A sickening crack causes her to gasp and she crouches beside the pair as they scuffle, attempting to pull Ettore off of Monte, who has now managed to land a blow of his own to Ettore’s face.

“Get the fuck off him!” She cries out to Ettore, tugging desperately at his shoulder.

He throws his elbow back, attempting to shake her off, and it connects with her jaw, sending her reeling backwards with a cry of pain.

It’s only then that Ettore stops, looking back at her, and for the briefest of moments she sees panic in his eyes. He is quick to climb to his feet and leave, while Monte remains on the floor holding his face.

She crawls towards him, her eyes wide with concern. “Are you okay?”

“Prick broke my nose.” He utters. “I need to go to the med bay.”

She winces as she watches Dibs reset Monte’s nose, which is in fact broken. Her heart constricts when Dibs inquires as to how this happened.

“A pan fell from a shelf in the galley.” He tells her. “Caught it with my face.”

Her jaw drops in disbelief. He’d lied. She cannot understand why Monte would do such a thing, but the relief she feels is immeasurable.

Dibs doesn’t seem like she quite believes Monte’s explanation, but doesn’t push any further, allowing them both to return to their work duty.

She seeks out Ettore after lunch, finding him skulking in the laundry room, a bright red split now decorates his lower lip.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” She hisses angrily.

Ettore grunts in response, slamming the door to a washer closed.

“Answer me!” She shouts in frustration after a few moments.

He rounds on her with such rapidity that she takes a fearful step back, until he is crowding her space. He reaches up a hand to trace his fingertips over the side of her face.

“Did I hurt you?” He asks softly. “I haven’t hit you since we started…you know…I know I’m not supposed to.”

She has to bite back a laugh at the absurdity of it, it’s like listening to a child explain why they ought to look both ways before crossing the street.

“You didn’t.” She tells him. “But you broke Monte’s nose. Why?”

Ettore pulls back with an offhand shrug. “He was touching you.”

She shakes her head in disbelief. “Are you for real?! We were on work duty together. My hair tie snapped!”

“You could’ve been put on work duty with Mink or Boyse.” He scowls. “Don’t see why it has to be him.”

“Oh my god, you’re jealous!” She rolls her eyes.

Ettore’s jaw ticks, he exhales in irritation. “Do you have any idea what the blokes on this fucking ship would do to you, given half the chance?”

“You are jealous. Fucking hell, that’s pathetic.” She says in disbelief with a shake of her head.

He crowds into her space once more, backing her against the wall as he stares into her eyes, cold and predatory. “You’re mine.”

The words send a shiver of arousal through her and she makes no attempt to stop him as he yanks at the waistband of her scrubs, tugging them down her legs along with her underwear, before pulling down his own.

She cries out as he sinks his teeth into the juncture between her neck and shoulder, the pain serving to further ignite the heat building in her lower belly. She knows she should fight him off, be angry with him for attacking another crew member, but his possessiveness of her fuels her desire for him. She needs this.

Their movements are hurried and desperate, his grip rough as he tugs her leg over his hip, the force with which he thrusts inside of her causing her head to tip backwards as it takes her breath away.

He fucks her against the wall as though he is trying to push her through it. His grip on her will surely leave bruises in its wake, his head is kept buried into the crook of her neck, where he had bitten just moments before. The only sounds are the soft hum of the washers and dryers, intermingled with the lewd wet noise emanating from where their bodies meet and their quiet pants and sighs.

It doesn’t take long for Ettore to reach his end, spending inside of her with a full body shudder. She doesn’t mind that she hasn’t been brought to peak, there is something so primal and urgent about allowing him to claim her like this that makes her feel as though all of her nerve endings are tingling with electricity.

Slowly he pulls away from her neck, breathing heavily as he rests his forehead against hers.

The moment is short lived, however, as the scuffle of shoes on the linoleum alert them to the presence of Boyse, who stands staring wide eyed with shock before hurrying back the way she’d come.

They’d been caught.

Post script author's note: I have one further request to fill for this series, which will serve as a follow on from this part, so please do not pester for a part two. I am currently accepting requests for Ettore, but no further requests which relate to this series. The next instalment will serve as its final part.

#ettore #high life #ettore x reader #ettore smut #ewan mitchell #ettore fan fiction #ettore fanfiction #ettore fan fic #ettore fanfic

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thesamoanqueen · 1 year

Text

Blackwater VI

Raiting: 18+

Warnings: Smut; Fingering; Bloodline Drama

A/N: I haven't updated this series for a while, but today is a special day, so some drama for daddy

Opening up to someone had always been an idea far from her mind, almost impossible due to all her fragil relationships, growing without a pack, a family and no home. Remembering the days when her family had broken up hurt her now too and she had very few times to say it, admitting that she was lost on her purpose was an absolute first time. Even Y/N had been surprised by that confession… but she had gotten through the moment with more control than she thought and all those distractions had helped.

Mate, her she-wolf reminded and Y/N shifted her eyes to the large bathroom mirror, realizing that she had reflexively bitten her lower lip and stopping just as quickly.

Yes, Roman had been an effective distraction. Very effective, honestly. And this time she couldn't even blame him. When she came out of the bathroom, finishing spreading lotion on her hands, he had just entered the room. His brown gaze went from the watch he was taking off, to her.

- Are you done? – his voice, low and soft like velvet, made her skin tingle.

She nodded, trying to stay in control and slipped under the covers. The sheets were fresh and when Roman finally took advantage of his shift in the bathroom, Y/N closed her eyes, enjoying the contact on her bare parts. Her body temperature had been unstable for a while, probably due to the stress of those days, she switched from shivering to hot flashes and along with it, she seemed a bit unstable. She was used to those moments, they usually came at other times, for biological reasons, but she could handle them, she just needed to put pieces together and reorganize herself.

For a while she focused on her breathing, muscles stretching and the numbness of sleep slowly trying to take her elsewhere. Maybe without hurting, back in memories, when everything was simple, in another house with trees similar to those in the garden, surrounded by another family. Maybe with focus she could do it, maybe she could remember the sun’s warmth when she played by the river… the rain that always came unexpectedly… the smell of home. Everything looked so close…

Closer. Home.

Too close.

Her eyes widened suddenly. And not knowing how much time had passed, she turned inside the bed, to find him there too.

- Whats wrong? - Roman asked as he take off his shirt with a fluid gesture, tattoo fully exposed now, even if the light was dim.

Y/N saw it. She saw the line of his big shoulders. His broad chest that had widened thanks to the arms movement. Hair loose and dark like his beard. The abs half hidden by the sheet. Jesus, was he naked down there?!

- A nightmare?

He was joking. Or maybe provocative. Hilarious.

- You can't stay here – she didn't want to start arguing again, things were better.

- I cannot? - his voice was amused while he repeated it, one step ahead of the reaction he would have had earlier in the week, but he hadn't mentioned moving, quite the contrary.

His arms were spread out across the headboard of the bed and Y/N was making a serious effort to ignore the warmth his body was already emanating under the sheets.

- We won't sleep together – she said and once again Roman didn't move.

- It's my bed, I told you. Ain’t gonna stay on that sofa ever again.

Yes, was true and it had sincerely surprised her, because he didn't seem to have aptitude for such gestures, but he had just done it with her. Probably a lot depended on being mates, his wolf needed to assert his role, control her, guard her, the sofa had been a compromise to stay close to her and please her, but he had warned her, was true.

- Do you want me to stay there? Where have all those stories about alphas fixing nests for poor omegas gone? – she tried with a heavy breath and Roman frowned.

- I’ll not kick you out of your bed and I tought that there were no poor omegas around here.

Good mate.

Fuck… he wasn't missing. First that speech about her family, now he treated her with respect and she wasn't ready, she didn't expect it. She didn't want to let him win, but she was too grown up to make a scene and deep down there wasn't that much difference between being in the same room and being in the same bed... right?

Ignoring her omega’s urge to reward him for that perfect shot, she looked at him seriously for a moment. Eyes traveling down the sheets, studying every inch of big solid frame in the half-light, until they met his and that imperturbable expression.

- Keep your hands in place Ro – she finally warned him, sinking back between pillows, shoulders turned and sheets twisted up under her face.

- Hands? please… - she heard him tease, as he too settled down and something pulsed through her body, tightening around nothing.

Oh cmon!

Focusing on her breathing again, she forced herself to regain control. It was late and she still felt upset, but unexpectedly his presence next to her caused her less anxiety than she thought, it almost seemed to calm her down and slowly, her attention moved from her breathing to him, dragging her back into an heavy sleep, back into memories. She was hot… the sun? … there was a scent of home.

***

He'd woken up every night since he'd found her, searching the dark room for her figure to be sure she was still there, but that night hadn't happened. He had awakened at dawn, while she freed herself from his arms like a bomb squad, without a scene, although the previous night's recommendations had clearly gone to hell when, who knows which of them, had reached out, sleeping. The smell of her was everywhere in that bed and it was the same for the heat of her body. Now that she had tiptoed away, however, his skin was getting cold and his wolf was fidgeting. He had had a taste and now wanted more. It was a fixed thought, an obsession that seemed to run in Roman’s blood. His inner alpha was naturally devoted to her, as if it all depended on Y/N and it wasn't something Roman was used to. As the Tribal Chief he was the giver and taker, he was the centerpiece around which everything else revolved, but she, it seemed, was the center of him. One that kept moving away and that his wolf pressed to fill and bind to him.

Mate.

That gorgeous woman at the hallway’s end, with a frown and bare, endless legs, was his personal battle and more days passed, more the need to win her became indispensable.

- Not even a good morning. It's disrespectful - he complained, reaching for her when her eyes were still focused on looking out.

- You know what would be respectful and nice? You who don't get behind me - she snapped back, even if not so annoyed.

She no longer reacted as before, she was less worried. At least with him. Because her eyes were still on the garden, where Solo was making his first tour of the property. They weren't connected, she couldn't know it was him if she didn't see, but her senses were extraordinarily developed and Roman now knew why.

- There’s nothing out there that deserves more attention than me, you should have turned around – he murmured against her hair, a bit to distract her from useless thoughts a bit to really have her undivided attention.

Spending her whole life alone, with no one to support her, after what happened to her family, made Y/N strong and that was something he appreciated. But she didn't need to be there like that, not in that house, not when he was there. His wolf wanted her to rely on him, he was the provider for his bloodline and before anyone else now, he would provide and protect her.

Y/N moved again at contact with his hand, recovering to finally leave her still position.

-It's a miracle how you haven't been crushed yet by the weight of your ego – she tried to get rid of him too despite her slightly amused voice and leave him behind, continuing towards the living room, but Roman had no desire to do so.

-I have broad shoulders - he joked, blocking her however between himself and a furniture when she tried to turn the corner - and you... what did I tell you about that mouth of yours? - his words came out in a low growl.

Stuck, she raised her eyes while he held her face. Thumb rubbing the soft caramel skin, gaze following the full curve of her lips, her breath suddenly rumbling in his ears and that scent of her… it was stronger, there was something that wasn't there yesterday. Something sweeter, fruity and spicy? What was that?

Mine. Mine.

- I wasn't listening, a bit like you when I told you to keep your hands in their place - Y/N distracted him, moving his away and slipping to the side to escape his grip.

He had expected a scene or a bad reaction and instead he received that. It wasn't even a rebuke. She was softening, letting go more often, she trusted him now, but it wasn't enough for him. He wanted more, he wanted to keep her, he wanted all of her and he wanted her to resign to be his mate, wanted her to think the same.

- They're where they need to be. Like you – he insisted, pulling her hips against him after a few steps.

He buried his face into her neck, inhaling deeply against her skin and Y/N gasped. Her pulse had quickened at the mere contact of his breath against her soft spot. He tightened his grip on her beautiful hips, stomach contracted, chest heaving from just breathing in her scent and when she still didn't move, he thrust forward. She wasn't petite, but she disappeared into his arms and the closer he pulled her to him, the tighter he squeezed, the more she seemed to curl up against his broad chest.

Mate… smell good…

Everything else around them was gone again, the same warm feeling he had felt when he woke up there again. The void full again. He rubbed his beard against her hair, marking her even if only with his scent, a gesture of dominance and pure instinct, his hard boner now pressed into her round ass. His senses were quickening, his blood was pumping faster and when Y/N tilted her head a little, Roman sank there with no intention of getting out. And so it would have gone if Y/N hadn't slipped out of his grip once more, spinning in his arms and pulling away from herself one finger at a time, after the most obscene stifled moan he had ever heard.

- Roman… I haven't changed my mind – she said trying to regain control, her hands trying to keep him at bay.

- You'll change it.

He saw her lift her head, looking into his eyes for confirmation or a sign and something seemed to snap inside her, prompting her to back away in a way she hadn't done in a few days.

- What if it doesn't? – there it is.

Sounded a lot like a provocation, a challenge and no one ever ended up good when they challenged him, but with her Roman had discovered new levels of tollerance. For that matter, however, he had none. Because he understood what the problem was and was ready to force it out of her head if necessary.

- Who says the… moon goddess is right? That those stories about destined mates are true? You're an alpha, it's ridiculous that you accept as law a story told by who knows who, when we still lived in the woods.

Alpha.

Christ… that tongue was a blessing and a curse, but even as his wolf snarled for all that disrespect, Roman understood. She was asking the wrong questions and for reasons she shouldn't have, but he could understand, he'd been there too.

For his family traditions were everything and he, like the twins, Solo and everyone else in his pack, had grown up respecting and carrying them forward. For them in some aspects there had been no progression even though the world had moved on, and they fought to keep things the same for those who came later. They had a legacy to secure, and Roman had always been willing to do anything to do so. But he'd stopped believing bullshit before he got a beard, and for years he'd been convinced that the mate issue was part of the package. In his family, mates were less than the fingers of a hand, Jey and Takecia had discovered to be mate when they were still kidz, but nothing extraordinary had happened in Roman eyes. But it had probably been different for them, and now that Y/N was there, now that Roman had found her, he understood that. Because there was something about her that always called him, it wasn't simple attraction.

- I do it because we are bond, not for a story. You can refuse all you want, but that's the same for you. We have it in our bones, in our blood, in every fiber of our body and you know it.

His hand instinctively went to her wrist, prompting her to rub her fingers on his arm. Hidden beneath his tattoo was the scar he'd made as a boy. He had gotten it himself, before he was old enough to get a tattoo. He had spread his arm open in front of his bedroom mirror, telling his furious mother that he had wanted to honor their tradition with a symbol, when in reality it had been an attempt to ease a pain in his arm. The pain came from her, but he had only discovered it when the doctor had examined her on the night of their first bad encounter: Y/N had a bad scar on the inside of the same arm, something had gotten inside and had nearly passed trought. He had felt Y/N’s pain before he even knew she existed and now Roman suspected that this had not been the only time nor the worst. As an adult, when he had finished the real tattoo, the only drawing among the symbols of his people had been a flower inside his wrist, not for anyone to look at and that one too had depended on her.

They weren't superstitions and old laws. What he had felt that afternoon as a kid and years ago… the crave, the anxiety, the need and the wholeness when he had found her, was real.

- I stopped trusting my body when I was twelve. Im trying to be logical - she murmured, eyes still fixed on his arm, fingers examining his skin now without him having to hold her, her expression indecipherable.

But Roman was learning to sniff out her reactions better and better. She was confused by that discovery on him, a little amazed for that prove and he tugged her chin up, seeking her undivided attention.

- We both know why you refuse. Don't lie to me, babygirl, that's not a good idea.

- They were close, I could see it, in everything they did… we just argue - she said with a heavy breath and he nodded.

She was dead serious and reasonable, everything an omega like her shouldn't be and he was willing to find a solution to the problem or get it out of the way if necessary. He was open to plan B even though she rejected it.

- You’re trying hard to leave things as they are - he teased her, deciding not to push her back on the road of her past, hands going instead on her hips, pulling her towards him.

- And it's my fault? You started it, claiming me before you told me your name – retorted Y/N, moving his hands away with exasperation and finding them elsewhere.

She sighed, ceasing to quit with an almost tired look and Roman pulled her completely close to him, rocking her with a satisfied grin. She was a human repellant to unremarkable attempts and not the kind of woman for anyone, but he was the exception, he was exclusive and now, as he bridged the space between them, rubbing his nose against her hair, he was more sure than ever that he was willing to do anything to establish that primacy above all others.

- I did you a favor. You have new, better documents now.

Mate smells…

The smell of her was comfortable, soft and exciting like a hunting trail. It was exactly like Y/N, but that day it was stronger, it had something Roman hadn't smelled yet, something he didn't know.

Mine.

- So may I go? - Y/N asked, his breath pounding against her neck, her fingers pinching his tank top, his nails scraping slowly his skin.

- I'll be good and I'll pretend I didn't hear you – the menacing growl still came out of his throat, his wolf just couldn't stand that game, but Y/N didn't move.

Instead, she bent her neck, one hand slowly moving up his arm to check the scar again, as he buried his face in the space she was giving him.

- Try to be more good... and stop pointing that thing against me - she whispered however, in his ear and only at that moment, Roman realize he had pushed her who knows when all the way to the dining room, his manhood pressing overbearingly on her leg.

The laughter she had caused him however sounded like a heated gurgling and completely ignoring her request, he grabbed her by the ass, lifting her unceremoniously onto the table. Y/N barely let out a surprised noise, her hands gripping his arms and her eyes fixed on him, studying his expression, while slowly he caressed her bare thighs.

- Ask me something else babygirl – he growled, spreading her legs to make room for himself

- Anything? – she upped the ante, still motionless, allowing him another step forward.

- Whatever you want - he granted hoarsely, pulling her to the edge, to fit her perfectly against him.

- …lemme g-

He shushed her before she could even finish, determined to devour her there on the table once and for all, his boner now purposefully rubbing against her warm core, barely covered by the underwear beneath her dress. Y/N bit his lip, by reflex or habit Roman had no idea, but Roman didn't even care about the blood in his mouth as she bent her back, hands gripped tighter to his arms. It was a full-fledged fight, the chair at the head of the table had already blown away, but it was a fight that Y/N didn't seem so intent on winning this time. She tenaciously kept him away from her neck, preventing him from licking or mark her and yet, she had her legs wrapped around his hips, following the movements of his pelvis with the most dangerous moans that Roman could ever imagine.

Everything about her seemed purposely made to make him want more, to fight more and lose himself. The whole house could have collapsed on him at that very moment and Roman would have heard only that choked sigh, almost a cry, that Y/N had released as she felt his fingers move towards the inside of her legs. Her skin was warm, soft, she tasted so fuckin good, more than any omega he'd ever eaten and just realizing it, made him wonder what it tasted like down there.

With her nails scratching his arms, Roman growled into her mouth and pushed his hand a little further, the light fabric of the underwear taunting his control. When he finally reached her core, Y/N jerked abruptly almost regaining consciousness, but Roman didn't give her time to snap, thumb curiously tracing her soft, wet, puffy folds.

Lord-

-Roma-ahn - her entire body shook, a beautiful mess, before she straightened up and buried her head against his solid chest.

Mate. Mine. Mine. Take her now.

He smiled, his wolf now almost completely on the surface, as the thumb slowly opened her, bathing in her juices and coming up to dirty her. His ears heard the slimy sound of her warmth, mixed with her moans, her breath broken, heart racing faster each time Roman went deeper. She was a drug and when Y/N pressed against him, seeking comfort, Roman was sure he didn't want to do anything else for the rest of his life. He nuzzled her nose into her hair, unexpectedly feeling her do the same on his neck and curled up her hand, determined to give her some relief, but the kick she landed on him behind his legs, caught him off guard.

- L-lemme go! - growled under him Y/N, digging her nails into his arms and Roman was forced to plant his hands on the table, to maintain the position – lemme go Roman!

Suddenly out of her mind, she began to push him and back away, struggling to escape as tenaciously as she had the night they met, but this time he wasn't willing to take any kicks and so he pulled her wrist, pinning her where they were without a chance.

No!

- Whatcha tryna do huh? - he growled suddenly and Y/N's eyes widened, with surprise.

Her reaction made him wrinkle his nose and he loosened his grip, running a hand over his face to physically push away the anger that had invested him.

He didn't want to yell at her. He didn't have to with her, but he didn't understand the reason of that behavior. He was trying to be understanding, he was trying to treat her right, he was doing the best for her, he was going slow-

- Solo is here –Y/N answered, almost reading his mind and Roman raised his head in confusion.

Solo was outside. He checked the garden every morning, never entering before doing so and being called, it was the routine of every day, it was Roman’s order. It wasn't possible, but when Y/N moved her eyes over his shoulder, Roman regained awareness of his surroundings. He turned around, looking from there the kitchen entrance door and Solo was there.

***

She had done the math. That afternoon she could have already been in the largest city across the border, the ship that had been carrying her there, two days behind her. Without documents, moving around was complicated, slow and not always comfortable, but she would have managed as always. And, actually, there she was, sitting by the river, beer in hand, watching Jimmy and Jey's kids jump off a rope.

The thought of going home haunted her, popping into her mind without warning. She wasn't used to having so many people around her, she wasn't used to not having to worry about herself, being safe, and even having someone to make sure she was okay, but against all odds, there she was. And she liked it.

Home.

Part of her felt guilty for getting this far and actually thinking about quitting. Because even if she didn't admit it out loud, it was getting easier and easier to find something positive there and less comforting away from Roman. Realizing it brought her back to that morning and suddenly her chest felt heavy, her stomach in a vice.

She'd woken up buried in the sheets, tucked up against his bare chest, and even when she'd surfaced, trying to regain control, she'd been able to hold out for less than half an hour before she found herself back in his arms. And on that last occasion for a brief, unbearable moment, Y/N had wished to always been there… but then Roman had gone away. In a bad, bad mood and not looking back and Y/N couldn't help but wonder what was going on, cause something was going on. He hadn't called to check on her, he hadn't even given orders and in as long as she'd known him, she'd never seen him act like this.

Some of the boys called to her from the water and her hand reflexively went up, greeting them with a smile, as they splashed everywhere, screaming of another great dive.

- They like you girl! – Jimmy chuckled, sitting down next to her and Y/N wrinkled her nose, looking at them having the best time of their life.

- And I like them, never see kidz cuter then them – she admitted, tasting some beer.

- Perfect, then-

- Jimmy! Leave her alone and mind your own business! - Naomi lashed out against him, fortunately preventing what Y/N already knew was not the kind of speech she wanted to hear.

She might begin to find the situation pleasant, but she had no intention of giving birth to any cub either in the next nine months or in the next nine years.

- It's my business too, they'll stop rushing-

- Nobody rushes me.

- They rush me! And maybe it will do him good, he will calm down and have something else to think about…

This time was Jey to stop him, hand crashing into his shoulder and Y/N watched them as they exchanged silent glances, Naomi shaking her head from the bank. The tension lasted just a second, before Jimmy got up again to reach the river too, but it was enough for her.

Except for their first meeting, the twins had been the only ones together with Naomi, never giving her reason to doubt. But Y/N had seen too much, having to fend for herself, not to smell when something was wrong and she didn't like that exchange as much as not knowing why Roman wasn't showing up.

- It's a joke – she heard Jey justify who know whos, feeling her eyes on him.

Now that she was watching him carefully, she was realizing that he was unable to sit still. He kept shifting his weight from one leg to the other, his hands rubbing his pants or each other, his eyes going from the kids to his brother, back to the kids, her, cars, even the river. It could pass for territorial behavior, maybe it was, but there was also something she knew that an alpha shouldn't have. He was anxious.

- Why did yall fight years ago? – she asked and Jey stopped.

- Who told you that? - he inquired, unable to pretend and hold back the wave of frustration that had hit him hearing that story brought to the surface.

- Roman… but he didn't add anything.

The night Roman admitted it, Y/N hadn't really wondered what had happened. The reason for that admission had seemed obvious to her and it continued to have the same value for her, but she knew nothing else about that story except what he had revealed to her and now, instead, she felt the sudden need to know. The omega in her rejected any doubts about her mate, but more Y/N thought about it, more Jey remained silent, more red flags raise up.

Jimmy had said they needed to calm him down?

- There’s nothing to say. Just an old story, we are a family, we good – Jey cut short, turning away, his head nodding and his gaze fixed elsewhere.

They were good.

No good.

No good, at all.

***

With his gaze fixed on the road that rushed past the car, he scratched his beard annoyed, tension, anger increasing more and more and that horrendous feeling of weight on his shoulders oppressing him.

By then he should have been at home or anywhere else. Not there. Not in that car. Not to meet them without any warning.

- Who told them? – he growled, barely holding back his irritation.

The Wise Man's anxiety suddenly increased hearing his voice. He was sweating, Roman could smell it. He felt his hands gripping the Ula fala briefcase. His mouth opening and closing without looking, searching for the right words as always. His body, in yet another expensive suit, curled up against the seat opposite him.

He loved Paul like an uncle, a real member of his family. He'd worked for his pack since before Roman could stand on his feet and had always been worthy of that role, but right now Roman would have chocked him with his red tie without regret.

- My Tribal Chief-

- I asked you a question! - he growled louder and from the front seat, Solo silently raised his eyes, looking at him in the rear-view mirror.

- Someone saw you in town yesterday. You are an important man, who attract attention, people talk about you because it’s always an honor, a privilege when you are present! - his praises didn't even reach his ears that time though, and for the rest of the ride, Paul didn't say a word.

As far as he was concerned, he might as well have even read an horoscope, Roman wouldn't have listened to him anyway. Not after finding out he's been caught as a dumb kid skipping school.

No good.

Fuck!

Tag squad: @sunnyfleur23 @racerchix21 @alyyaanna @wickedsunfire @romanreignsdefencesquad @romanstheory @claymorexpunisher @keybladeofsteel @iovereigns @msbigredmachine @nayys-world @gobbersworld @utika151209 @cumxxslutt @civildawn @romanmydaddy @triscillal @papireigns-05 @helensanders92 @ichdrachenfrau @darqchilddaydreamz @meggylynnloves @unfriendly--blvck--hottie @nicolewoo @wrestlezaynia @reignsx @reigns-central-blog @kianaleani @daguenoire @extra-11 @thedonsfactory @snowpanda18 @brattyfics @mzv11 @romanreignseater @namjoonspinkytoenail @tribalchiefdaily @2baddies2furious @vebner37 @raeluvshammett @depressedneedingrevenge @cyberdejos2 @thewarlordsworld @jeonmahi1864 @jxtina-86 @harmshake @harlem11680 @joanoai @southerngirl41

#roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns x y/n #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns x female reader #roman reigns smut #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns fanfic #wwe fanfiction #wwe fic

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a-strange-echo · 6 months

Text

Distracting kiss

Pairing: Daniel Brühl x gn!reader

Summary: Reader is feeling lonely on the set of Falcon and the Winter Soldier and just want some attention from their husband.

Word count: ~~

Warnings: PDA, reader is mischievous, fluff, only one French sentence and one in Spanish.

Author's note: I don't think I will finish the flufftober, I have been really busy and lost the want to write, this is the first thing I have written in a few weeks so... yeah. Also, it's my first time writing for Daniel Brühl so please, be indulgent. (There are not enough fanfics about this man, I swear-) AS ALWAYS: ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGAGE

Author's feelings: I quite like this one, especially since it's been a while since I wrote and posted something.

The cast was on a break after the whole afternoon of shooting for an episode of the Falcon and the Winter Soldier series. There was only one scene left to shoot, and while some actors preferred to laugh together or eat something, Daniel was sitting on a chair rereading his script.

Y/N wanted their husband to spend more time with them even if they knew they technically were at work. They watched him from a few feet away. He seemed so entranced in what he was doing. His eyebrows were scrunched in a little frown they wanted to kiss away so badly, his delicate lips in a small, concentrated pout.

'He looks so cute.' Y/N thought, and they were sure they had a dreaming and love-sick expression on their face that anyone could see, but they didn't care.

"Why don't you go get your man?" A deep voice pulled them out of their reverie.

"Don't scare me like that, Seb!" They chastised with a slap to his arm.

"You just were so busy staring at Daniel that you didn't hear me talking to you." He clarified before taking a bite out of his pastries. "But anyway, go get him." He repeated as he pushed them slightly towards their husband.

"You know what? I have a better idea." They said with a mischievous smirk and departed in Daniel's direction.

Y/N sneaked behind him, being careful not to be heard. When they were close enough, they slid their arms around his neck, bending a little to be able to rest their head on his shoulder. He was a little startled at first but relaxed when he realized it was only his partner. He turned his head toward them and smiled back at them before going back to memorizing the script.

Y/N wasn't having it. They nuzzle their face in his neck before placing a slow, deep kiss on his neck, right below his ear. He leaned into the kiss, his eyes closed and a soft sigh escaping his lips.

"I love you." They whispered against his skin.

He didn't have time to fully understand what Y/N said before he felt them pull away and leave.

When they turned away, going back to Sebastian, who witnessed the whole thing, they had a satisfied smirk on their lips.

Daniel tried to focus back on the task at hand, but it seemed like the kiss sucked out all of his focus. He tried and tried to read the text, but he just found himself re-reading the same line again and again. After a few frustrating seconds, he found himself standing up and walking where he knew his lover would be: talking to their best friend Sebastian.

Y/N counted down out loud the seconds it would take their husband to go to them. And right on time, they felt two strong arms wrap around their waist and their husband's head on their shoulders. Y/N bend their arm to play with the man's hair just like he liked it with a smirk still plastered on their face.

"Hola, mi amor." He purred against their neck.

"Coucou, mon cœur." They smiled at him. "Told you I had a better idea, Seb." They teased the man who had a smile stretched on his face.

——————————

Translation: "Coucou, mon cœur" -> "Hi, sweetheart."

"Hola, mi amor" -> "Hello, my love"

#daniel brühl #daniel brühl x reader #fluff #fic #nonbinary #non binary character #original work #i wrote it #i wrote this on my phone #i love him #i love this man so much

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weirdsociology · 1 year

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Distractions (The Mandalorian, E)

Title: Distractions (6.6k)

Series: Part one of Creed, a non-linear series about Din Djarin and his favorite... distraction.

Description: An artifact from the Mandalorian's past leads to trying something new - and remembering the past.

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader

Content warnings: Explicit sexual content, sex toys, fingering, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, oral sex, penetrative sex, implied violence, spit, a touch of size kink, light manhandling, very mild D/s in all directions because we love a switch in this house, no betas we die like men, canon what canon

Tropes: hurt/comfort, idiots with feelings, angst but it all works out in the end, the helmet stays on

Author's note: I blacked out, I don't know what happened, and frankly I'm embarrassed that the first fanfic I've written in 20 years is kind of fluffy and not significantly more insane. This little offering is canon timeline-agnostic; I just wanted to give our armored dumbass a happy ending. Please don't think this reflects my personality, I am spiritually covered in the blood of my enemies at all times. Also there is one small bit of truth from my personal life in here and I'll give you a hint: it wasn't flashbangs, it was bayonets. This one is for @tarabyte3 who got me excited about what fanfiction can do again.

***

Sometimes, it's hard to sleep in hyperspace. A ship this old doesn't have the automated circadian rhythm programs that dim the lights according to species preference, and all the daylight bulbs are second-hand, their blueness dimmed by repeated use. Darkness is in plentiful supply, but that's only half the equation of an artificial night. You do your best, careful to check the time reads on the navigational display, and adhere to a schedule as much as you can. It helps give structure to long periods of transit, and you know that ten years from now, your body and mind will thank you for being careful to guard their rest.

The Mandalorian, by contrast, doesn't have a diurnal cycle as far as you've been able to tell. His sleep patterns are pure anarchy, having nothing to do with mood or physical need. Sometimes he'll spend a week getting no more rest than a few brief, truncated minutes on the ground after trekking in harsh terrain. Sometimes you'll go looking for him after a quiet stretch in flight and he'll be in the bed he calls his rack, completely dormant for the next fourteen standard hours. You don't know how he does it. He lives like someone who fully expects to die before their body has enough years to register protest - which on the one hand makes you anxious, and on the other you find it hard to blame him for.

Still, despite all your attendance to regularity, there are nights - times - when you can't sleep. Especially when you are headed past the Outer Rim, and the length of travel means nothing to do except read and watch holovideos you've already seen and eat stale food and exercise in cramped, artificial repetition. Nothing new to look at, nothing new to do.

Which is how you end up awake at this hour, dressed in nothing but your bandeau and shorts with goosebumps pebbling your legs as you lean over one of the big crates in the cargo bay. You're digging through the thermoplastic case that holds the Mandalorian's personal possessions, looking for one of the old holonovels you're sure he has stowed, when you find it. A smooth, round black cylinder with a cap on each end. At first, you suspect it's yet another esoteric firearm - but then why isn't it in the weapons locker above?

Curious, you gingerly remove the cap from one end. Life on the ship has taught you to be cautious about any unfamiliar object. You don't know if it's normal Mandalorian living style to have to shove aside a mountain of electronic flashbangs when looking for clean blankets, but it's certainly normal for this one.

What's inside isn't like any weapon you've ever seen. The cylinder is filled with something soft and yielding, silicone or plastisilk you think, and it gives disconcertingly when you brush a thumb over it. There's a small bore in the middle about the diameter of your finger, but the polymer feels like it would stretch. It's textured near where the cap would fit, small ridges inside and a gentle flowering of protuberances around the borehole. Almost like -

You stand up, unsure whether to blush or laugh, and snap the cap back on. You've certainly found something new this time; something that might help break the monotony of space travel if you approach the topic - and Mando - correctly. If you're right there should be something else nearby, something that would make this a little more... usable.

There is. A discreet bottle, neatly wrapped in plain paper.

You take cylinder and bottle and step out in the corridor from the bay, checking the location of your fellow crew. Mando is not in his rack or the lockers, which means he's in the cockpit. The Child is in his usual nest. It's late, and the kid should be asleep for a long while yet. You jam the - the toy, you suppose - and the bottle into one hand and climb your way up the ladder, half appalled at your boldness and half delighted at the thought of making your Mandalorian squirm for once. You're secretly hoping to catch him out, tease him with the evidence of his private sexual habits, a friendly nip around the edges of his Creed.

"Look what I found," you say as you approach the pilot's chair. His head is turned away from you, bent over something in the navcomp, his long legs in front of him as stretched out as they can be in the small space. He hums an acknowledgement and takes a moment to finish entering something before he looks over his shoulder. You offer the cylinder to him flat across your palms, like a knight offering a loyal blade, which you hope is both funny and at least a little charming.

It doesn't work. He's still looking at you. You wave it in front of him instead, resisting the urge to waggle your eyebrows. The helmet drops to consider the cylinder, then you. "I'd forgotten I had that. Where did you find it?"

You stop, hands still outstretched. "Forgot-- your crate in the cargo bay, but... is this what I think it is?"

Mando can't raise his own eyebrows at you, but his chin twitches upward in the way you've learned to interpret is the same thing. "Do you think it's a cock sleeve? Because it is."

"Is that what you call it?"

"I've always been less concerned about what to call it than how to use it," he says. He's fully turned to face you now. The conversation is not going as you imagined. You flush and he gives you an appraising look, taking in your half-undressed state.

"Isn't that... Against your Creed?" How does he do this. How does he always turn the tables. How is it you're the one quailing under the calm scrutiny of his helmet. You'd meant this as a good-natured ribbing, not a come-on, but suddenly you're picturing what you were decidedly not thinking about earlier - Mando, years ago, alone in his rack or fresh from a hunt, with his beskar still on and his arming jacket rucked up, screwing the toy down onto himself with his fist. The thought makes heat pool between your legs. It also makes you a little melancholy. Suddenly you want to fuck him and hold him in equal measure.

"You weren't always here, you know," he says calmly, honest and unembarrassed as he is shockingly honest and unembarrassed about everything to do with sex. He reaches for you, captures your wrists, pulls you further into the cockpit and down into his lap. You thrill as always at his casual possessiveness, his desire to be close. At the breadth of his shoulders under your hands. "The Creed isn't against pleasure, only distraction. Sometimes it's more distracting to make your body suffer than to give it what it wants."

"Like me?" you ask. It's a joke that once would have stung, an echo of your first night together - you are nothing to me but a distraction from my work - but it's an old wound, long since rubbed over by the smooth edges of time and shared affection.

An amused huff through the modulator. "Like you," he agrees, and though the helmet dampers every inflection you now know, where once you only imagined, the statement is fond.

***

You'd been traveling together for months, a reluctant passenger paired with an unhappy custodian. It had been weeks since the first time the tension between you rose to the breaking point, pulling his hands to you like a gravity well. You were now fucking the Mandalorian regularly, enthusiastically, and, at least to you, inadequately. Regardless of how well you took him, how perfectly he fit when he slicked and stretched his way into you, your heart hammered the same rhythm: no room, no room. His attitude toward you had made that abundantly clear. There was no room for you in his life, on his ship, in his Creed. You were his... distraction. That's all.

You mostly ignored it. When you were working or hunting, you barely thought about it. You pushed the thought down and stored it away to keep from slicing yourself on its sharp edges. But there were moments when it pressed forward again, tumbling out of the drawer of your heart in disarray. The Mandalorian was behind you or over you or under you and you were crying out the name you knew him by even as your blood rushed in your ears demanding more. Not more sex, not more of the heavy punch of his hips against you or the feeling of his hands in your hair, but more of him. You wanted him. You wanted everything.

You wanted to know what it kriffing meant when he called you his distraction.

And sometimes, after you had been fucked within an inch of your life and left lying on your bunk or still pressed against the weapons locker, it hurt a breathtaking amount.

You were pretty sure the Mandalorian was not unaware of how he affected you. Beyond that first epithet which became routine, he was not intentionally cruel. Away from the heat that flared between you and his resentment at his own inability to ignore it, he was considerate and distant and respectful. Unfailingly polite. You loathed every moment of it with a growing bitterness that threatened to replace food and sleep. It reminded you of the time you'd run into a recruiter after she’d turned you down for a job. Sorry kid, you had your chance to convince me and you blew it. Except Mando, being Mando, had never given you a chance at all.

It was worse when you fucked. For weeks, you had resolved over and over to put an end to his careful handling of you. Better an angry rebuttal or cold silence than... whatever this pitiful halfway connection was. Next time he approached you with that weight in his step or crowded you into a corner, too close, you would force his hand. You knew that was the time to do it, when you had his full attention and the bargaining chip of your body. You'd seize his wandering gaze and stare into the helmet: "Why do you call me a distraction?"

You had told yourself this a dozen times. But his practiced fingers were already slipping inside you and all you could do was whine as his modulated voice, sounding not quite human, breathed a word that meant nothing to you in your ear: Mesh'la, mesh'la, mesh'la.

***

You had entreated him to show you how he used it, before you joined his crew. Before, as he drily puts it while running a gloved hand up your thigh and teasing along the waistband of your shorts, he had a far superior array of options. Now you're mostly naked in the dim light, seated between his spread legs, his helmet tipped against the headrest as he leans back. You're watching the arched column of his throat, watching his gloved fingers wrapped around the cylinder and most of all, watching his thick cock disappear into the plush expanse of the toy. He's hard but not fully erect, probably because you refused to touch him until you got to see him touch himself. Not that you needed to threaten - you both know that Din, and it's Din now, in the privacy of the cockpit with both of you partially undressed and warmth radiating from him, will deny you nothing where his body is concerned. Except, of course, his face.

His cock is stirring to full attention, and you suspect it has more to do with your rapt gaze on him than his own ministrations. It's a novelty for you to watch him for once. The way you two fuck, he normally has the better view, pulling back to see your cunt swallow his length and hear you moan in gratitude. He likes to watch you touch yourself while you're speared on him, chasing your own orgasm as you clench. He likes to see your thighs tremble when you ride him, and your face when he makes you come too much. "One more, mesh'la, one more for me, let me see you," he'll croon, as one hand worships your sore clit and the other bats away your arm as you try to bury your face in the crook of your elbow. Din likes to watch anything that shows him how good he makes you feel.

Your Mandalorian might be on to something, you decide. Watching certainly has its appeal. You can hear the soft slide of the toy, see the tension in his forearms and his stomach even through his tunic, his breath through the helmet fast but even. He looks gorgeous like this, a warrior half-undone for your enjoyment. You slide the palms of your hands up his thighs and run them lightly along the bare skin peeking through where he's partially shucked himself of armor and clothing. His breathing alters a little, hitching as your skin makes contact with his.

"How does it feel?" you ask, watching the steady rise and fall of the cylinder. You idly trace a finger up his groin and along the sensitive skin just under his sack. He hisses, and you twitch in response to the noise you know so well, your cunt giving a little spasm as if to remind you of its needs.

After a moment, Din answers your question. "Tight, but not warm. Better than nothing but... Like a ration bar when I have a meal right in front of me," he adds pointedly, and one booted foot slides between your folded knees, leather rubbing along the seam of your sex to make his point clear. "I like that you like looking at me, but we could have bought a mirror instead. I could be fucking you in front of it right now."

Your cheeks warm as you think about it: Din, arching over your back, holding your chin, making you watch your own face as he nudges the head of his cock into you. You don't know how you'd feel staring at yourself like that, but your cunt twitches again, letting you know that more important parts of you fully approve of the concept. The helmet has dropped back down. He's observing your reaction. You file the idea away for later. "I like seeing you like this, though. Did you really never use it after you met me?"

A chuckle. "Oh, I used it. Before... when you were first here. I used it so much I think I did permanent damage."

A little shiver of heat winds up from the base of your spine. This is new information. But he's not done. "Which is why I should be allowed to show you how much I appreciate you, not this plastic junk." He makes a show of slowing down, grinding up into the toy and letting out an exaggerated groan. You know he's still watching you closely, waiting for his cue.

You give him a wicked grin. "Sometimes... it's more distracting to make your body suffer than give it what it wants." Din groans for real in response, but you have other things on your mind. "Back before... when you... were you thinking of me?"

He makes an uninterpretable noise. "Oh no, mesh'la, I wasn't thinking of you. Only of your hips. And your hair. And your tits. And your ass. And your cunt, and if I could get you wet for me, and what that pretty mouth would look like around me, and how you'd sound when I put my cock down your throat."

"... Fuck," you say breathlessly. What started as a flutter has become an aching, empty pulse. "Fuck, Din," and you lean forward, bringing your face almost close enough to nuzzle where he's still sheathed in the toy, breathing in his scent. It has the unintended effect of driving the tip of his boot further into you, a solid mass pushing on the thrumming bundle of nerves between your legs.

When you first started doing this, he said very little to you. You could read nothing in his body except desire and frustration, both of which he extinguished in the furnace of your sex. Later, after Mos Eisley, when anger was no longer the single note of your shared existence, he talked to you constantly. The man of few words outside the ship became the man of many words when he was buried inside you. He told you what he was going to do to you, what he wanted to do to you, how good you felt and what you did to him. He talked like he was trying to construct a gilded cage of words you wouldn't fly away from. You had been dumbfounded by the change, shy and unsure, unable to find a way to reassure him you had already stooped to his lure. Part of you was afraid that if he knew the truth - that you'd have him any way he wanted, silent or talkative or babbling in Tuskan sign - he would stop. He hadn't, but the stream had slowed. More deliberate, less frantic. Somehow even more indecent.

He's being indecent right now, timing the strokes of the toy with his words. "I wanted you every morning and twice at night." Down. "I couldn't think - could barely shoot straight." Back up. "I wanted to bend you over the crates and fuck you until you felt the same." A slow slide back down. "Fill you up with me until you cried, until you knew you were mine, until that sweet cunt wouldn't want anyone else." Up, until just the tip of him is still out of sight. He's losing his even tone, the modulator turning gasps into static. "And then I did fuck you, and it got so much worse. You let me pull you open and put my cock in the hottest, wettest place in the galaxy and-- are you really going to come on my boot instead of letting me fuck you?"

You come to with a little start, pulled aware by the abrupt shift in subject. There's dampness under you, and you realize you've been rocking back and forth on his boot, rubbing the folds of your cunt against the worn leather, and moaning into his lap while he talks. It feels so good to be here, sitting at his feet as he strokes himself for you, hearing the jagged details of your shared past transformed by pleasure. The scruff of the boot against you, the bite of a seam into your tenderest flesh, the smell - steel and old smoke and hot sand - so uniquely Mandalorian it has you panting for him.

"Din," you breathe. "Stop -- stop. I want to feel you."

That's all it takes. The toy is gone in an instant, he's off the pilot's chair and dragging you upright and his half-bare hips are against yours, crowding you into the console. His cock is painfully hard against you, already smeared with precum and the lubricant that makes someone of his size using a toy like that even possible. You realize with dizzy delight that this is going to be one of those times where he fucks you without preamble, pushing his way in, making you feel every inch of his invasion. The pleasurable burn of your cunt adjusting to his girth will be revenge for making him use the toy - a revenge he knows you will enjoy.

More leather, this time at your mouth. The feel of his glove as he curls his fingertips under your chin. "Spit," he commands, and you do.

"Good girl. Now turn around."

***

It was after the first time he'd had you in the cockpit that you'd found the courage to ask. It had already been one of the worst days of your life, what more was there to lose? You were so numb there was no cliff you wouldn't jump off, no risk you wouldn't take. If you asked and the answer was indifference, well, it was just one more pain to add to the litany: your cracked lips, your shredded feet, your bruised ribs, your bloodied hands. And soon, maybe, your broken heart.

Mando had left, as he always did, after you were done, leaving you on the steel floor mostly naked and entirely without the desire to stand on your own. You told yourself that you would simply sleep there, if you had to, rather than getting back up on your cut soles. After all, you'd slept in worse places recently. Though you'd meant it to be fierce the thought sounded pathetic even to you.

The sound of boots climbing up the ladder interrupted your self-pity. Mando had not only come back, he had come back with a box: the medkit he kept in a crate in the cargo bay. He knelt beside you on the floor and started to lift you to him, one hand on your back and one hand under your knees. It was close and familiar in the worst possible way, like the fuck wasn't, and you made a hoarse inhuman noise and tried to kick him. You slammed a broken toe into a beskar vambrace instead and then you screamed for real.

He was patient with you and you hated it with every aftershock of white-hot rage in your body. You struggled even once he managed to get you up in his arms. After a bad moment where you thought you might actually try to bite him, he stopped attempting to haul you down the ladder and dropped both of you into the pilot's chair abruptly instead, pulling his hands away like you'd burned him. "Hey, it's me, just me, the one who's on your side," he'd said, attempting a touch of humor, and strangely it was the buzz of the modulator, so unlike the voices you'd been hearing for the past few days, that had incrementally slowed your galloping heart.

The medkit was in reach and at first he was gentle but even that was too much. You pulled away without leaving the chair, putting distance between you and that damned helmet. All you wanted was to rest, except you were afraid of what you might have time to think about if you did. There was a tense minute as he resumed his work with gauze and tape and bacta spray, but even in your exhausted state you somehow felt him make the decision to stop trying to be tender. He took your cue and bandaged you with impersonal efficiency, like you were a soldier in his regiment or a fellow Mandalorian. It made his touch tolerable, and you were so tired you almost resented him for it.

By the time he was done, you were nearly asleep. You heard the click of the medkit closing and, calmer now, a little more returned to yourself, braced for him to lift you down the ladder. But he surprised you by making no move to get up, resting his hands on his legs, around you but not on you. You could tell he was waiting for something but not what. Maybe it was something from you, but you were all out of give. It was his turn.

Another moment of silence, then momentary confusion as you both spoke at once:

"I have to tell you so--"

"Mandalorian, why are you--"

He stopped. You pressed on. "Why are you always calling me a distraction?" Your tone was flat. You sounded like you could be asking about the price of power cells.

The helmet twisted. This was clearly not the direction he expected your post-coital, post-triage conversation to take. "Because you're distracting."

You thought anger might be the only thing keeping you upright. "Not good enough. What the fuck are we even doing here? Why did you come after me? You told me we were done, that you didn't owe me anything. You could have left me there and pocketed the bounty for yourself. They would have let me go once they convinced themselves I didn't have the information.” A lie, but he doesn’t need to know that. “That doesn't sound like I'm just a distraction."

"I said you're distracting, and you are. That's different." You were sure he was being pedantic but your tired brain couldn't keep up with Mando at his most evasive. "You're not just a distraction. I don't make a habit of coming back for-- distractions."

Coming back for was a polite euphemism for the amount of killing Mando had done in the past few hours. None of it mattered to you if he was doing it because of his damned Creed. Maybe none of it mattered at all. Maybe you had kept your mouth shut for nothing. Your chest hurt and you had no idea if it was because of your ribs or because of your heart. You kept going.

"It makes no difference if I'm a distracting fuck or something worth coming back for or a kriffing bantha, Mando. I'm still..." Exhaustion made you blunt. "I'm still against your Creed."

He made a noise that could have been agreement, or negation. "The Creed is not against pleasure. Or companionship. Only... distractions." He sounded like he was reading out of a textbook. You'd heard it all before. You had wrung everything out of him you could about his Creed, because you wanted to find somewhere to fit. That was all he'd ever said.

He surprised you again. "Distraction is a-- it's not easy to describe. It's not as simple as wasting time or effort. Distractions are... things that pull you from your orbit without returning value, like a comet disrupting a planet's path around a sun. Too many and you begin to drift away from the tribe, the Creed, the things that make you a Mandalorian. You lose yourself chasing what streaks past you, already gone."

That little speech was probably the most words you'd ever heard Mando say at once, and there was too much there for you to process in your wasted state. You latched on instead to the thing that seemed most personally insulting, given how you'd been spending your time the past few days. "Maker, Mando, do you think that's all I am, a comet? That you'll turn around one day and I'll be gone? Do you think I did-- what I did– what we did– for fun? Do you think that's all you are to me?"

There, you had said it. Or at least implied it. Your cortisol response gave one last death rattle and suddenly you found you could sit up a little straighter, could feel your pulse in your throat. Your feet ached.

There was a long silence.

Then the Mandalorian sighed, and in that sigh was more defeat than you'd ever heard after a hunt gone wrong. The sound seized you and squeezed your breath as it stuttered in your chest. When he spoke, it was low, tired, and edged with brutal honesty. "No mesh'la. I don't think you're a comet. Not after... today."

And that, somehow, was what did you in: his surrender. The first acknowledgement of what you had endured for him and what you'd done together and what it meant between you. You dropped your face into the filthy duraweave of Mando's shoulder, not caring if you caught the edge of beskar beside it. Something boiled up in you and you weren't sure what it was, only that you snapped your mouth closed hard over a noise like being struck and fisted your hands in his tunic. All the fear you'd put aside came slamming in, the torrential wave presaged by an empty beach. You drove yourself as close as possible to your Mandalorian and shook as though a blaster bolt had found its home in your brain after all.

When you knew where you were again, you found you had shifted - or he had shifted you. You were curled between his legs, your arms still around his neck, your face against where his cheek would be in the cruel parody of a kiss. You froze for a moment, anticipating the helmet to feel hostile against your lips, but it was only Mando, the smooth silver of him that you'd come to know and expect. With sudden resolve you drew back an inch or two, away from the spot where your mouth left a sliver of fog. Your heart beat in your ears, marching steadily onward toward its inexorable conclusion. You had always known what you needed to do for both your sakes', and now you even thought you knew the bargain that could make it bearable.

"Mando," you whispered. "If that's the way it is, I wouldn't... I would never ask you to go against your Creed. I couldn't."

The warrior under you was so still you feared he might not respond at all. Then he blew out another long breath and put his hands around your waist, impossibly solid against you. It was the second time that night he'd reached for you with gentleness and, leaning against him, you could nearly imagine what it would be like to feel safe again. It would have been so easy to sink into shared delusion. But you owed him something more.

"I couldn't," you said again. "You couldn't. We could never-- it would never be right between us. I don't want that." You were certain you were crying by then, silent tears racing down your cheeks. "But please... I'm not ready yet. I'll leave tomorrow. Please, please... just give me tonight."

The hands on your waist spasmed, gripping you so hard that for one deranged instant you thought he might throw you down on the steel and fuck you all over again. He did the opposite and hauled you painfully upright, stood you in the tight space between his knees and the console. You winced when your abused feet took your weight. His own posture and the set of his shoulders told you absolutely nothing. He was still holding you like a lifeline.

"No," he said. After everything you'd done it was absurd that one word could make you want to crumple to the floor again, but you stayed upright, nails digging into the console for support. "I won't give you just tonight. I know you. You walked into that warehouse for me. You were so afraid for me you couldn't be afraid for yourself. You bled-- you killed-- because you hoped it would buy me time. I know you. Now you're offering– this. I refuse. You're not a Mandalorian, but your courage puts ours to shame. Who would I be if I returned your loyalty so little of my own?"

"Mando, what are you saying?" You were so numb with exhaustion that you weren't sure you had it in you to hope. You tried to keep your gaze steady, but you knew your eyes were wet.

"Stay with me," he said quietly. You did crumple then, your knees turned to water, and only his grip still on you kept you standing. "Stay with me, and let me prove my honor to you."

"Yes," you breathed, and that was all he needed. He hauled you to him, pulling you down, until your chest was pressed to him as he ran his gloves frantically over your neck, your shoulder blades, your hips. You rested your forehead against his, against the blood-warm beskar, and waited. You wanted nothing more than the feeling of his hands on you but you were so tired. "Will... will the tribe understand?"

A pause. He slowed, but did not stop, tracing soothing heat across your body. The blank faceplate tipped up to gaze out at the desert night. "Some will. Some won't. It doesn't matter. How I feel about you can't be against the Creed any more than my helmet. You can't turn a thing against itself." His head was still turned away, looking past the canopy to the starless sky outside. "You aren't a distraction from my Creed, mesh'la, and you never have been. You're part of it. You make me a better... a better Mandalorian."

His hesitation did not go unnoticed. You heard what he didn't say: a better man.

***

The problem with having sex in the cockpit is that when you want - no, need - to lay down afterward there isn't quite room for both of you between the chairs. Also, the floor is that textured, anti-slip steel they use for gantries, which pokes uncomfortably into bare flesh. You end up squashed together, half on top of your Mandalorian, letting his still partially-armored back take the worst of your combined weight as you roll on to your side and throw one leg over him, pillowing your head on his pauldron. It's not ideal, but after the three orgasms he pulled out of you with as much dedication as he'd ever chased down a bounty, you don't really have a choice. Going down the ladder in your current state might actually be the thing that kills you.

Din is still breathing hard from his own climax, sought only after he'd made you so sensitive that he'd had to put a callused palm over your mouth to keep you from shrieking and waking the Child. He'd started, as you thought he would, by pulling off your flimsy shorts and shoving the thick head of his cock into you with no preparation other than telling you to bend over the console and stay quiet. You'd cooperated, knowing that the position put his mouth conveniently close to your ear, and were rewarded with that smooth modulated voice telling you he was going to make sure you never made him use a toy again, never want his cock in anything but you. He told you he was going fuck you so thoroughly you'd beg for him to let you come on his cock. He'd started rough, his pace matching the coarseness of his words, and you'd bitten down your whimpers at the stretch.

But Din knew you far too well to let you off so lightly. Fast had turned to slow and deep, caging your hips with one forearm while skillful fingers lightly circled your clit, never giving you quite enough pressure to get you where you ached to go. Then you had begged, and he'd almost given in: pulled out of you abruptly, replacing his cock with three fingers after ripping off his gloves. You'd come so hard Din had groaned at the feeling of you clenching around him, your legs trembling uncontrollably, but even that wasn't what you were hoping for and he knew it. He'd coaxed you to a second orgasm by turning you around and crudely shoving his knee between your legs, making you ride the textured cuisse on his thigh. He'd insisted you work for it, rubbing yourself against him and leaving streaks of arousal on the beskar, and that was less satisfying still. Only after you'd gotten yourself off did he ask you what you wanted, and by then you were so needy, so desperately raw and sex-drunk, that all you could do was whine, "You-- please, Din-- you." The sound of his name seemed to shred whatever last bit of composure he had left, and he'd pressed into you harder than ever as your hand dropped to provide the friction you'd needed. You'd come apart with him buried deep, your cunt gripping him like a vise, and he'd followed not long after, your name on his lips as his cock twitched and softened in you.

The nice thing about steel floors, you decide, is that they're easy to clean. You can feel Din dripping out of you and you're pretty sure you're going to leave a wet spot. You’re also pretty sure that the cylinder rolled under one of the consoles and is still jammed there, but that's a problem for later. You pull yourself even closer to him, enjoying his warmth in the shared quiet, watching the strange false light of hyperspace dance outside the canopy.

You don't notice that Din’s turned his helmet to you until he speaks. “Another 26 hours and then we’re off this boat.” He sounds relaxed, pleased both with your current configuration of tangled limbs and the prospect of no longer being confined to the ship. “Felucia is a jungle world. Plenty of frogs for the womp rat to chase.”

You grin. “Or eat. How long are we staying? Are we dropping in somewhere civilized or staying off the radar? And who are we even after? You didn’t show me the puck yet.”

“Off the radar, and this one’s a solo job.” You start to protest, but he stops you. “Really. The contact says he’s holed up in a cave in the middle of nowhere. We’ll set down in the nearest open spot, then it’s half a day overland to the hideout. No point in you coming, nothing for you and the kid to do but get wet and feed the gnats.”

After space travel, a hike doesn’t sound unpleasant, but you know he’s right. There’s no reason to go to the extra trouble of packing supplies for two more when it’s a straightforward retrieval. At least you and the Child will get to explore your landing site. You can do your work outside in the open air, and if all goes well, Din will only be gone a day or two.

“Hey,” you say softly. “You’ll come back, right?” It’s only half a serious question. You trust your Mandalorian. You’ve trusted his competence and drive and ability since the moment you met him, and have learned to trust that his desire to return to you is real. Still, you always ask. It’s a private ritual between you, something soft built over top of hard truths.

You think of the times he’s left you. To work a job or on a hunt or sometimes just for the cold, hard recesses of his mind where you cannot touch him. Once, although you try not to remember it, for a black and shaking depression that terrified you both. Most of all, you think of that night, on Mos Eisley. The crunch of sand under his boots as he turned away. The glimpse of beskar through the door. The feeling of his hands on your battered ribs. His voice, very tired, I don't make a habit of coming back for distractions.

"Of course I’ll come back, mesh'la." You’ll never not thrill to Din’s electronic baritone calling you beautiful. "How could I do anything else? You're part of my Creed."

***

series masterlist

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfic #the most interesting part of mando is how his creed doesn't constrain him specifically but requires him generally #star wars #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #this ones owes a lot to a lot of other excellent writers #thank you all for sharing your talents with me #long post #pedro pascal

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deandoesthingstome · 10 months

Text

Welcoming Committee - Part 10

Pairing: Captain Syverson X Reader/OFC (Drea); August Walker x OFC (Genevieve/Neve); Captain Syverson x OFC (Genevieve/Neve); August Walker x Reader/OFC (Drea)

Word count: 968

Series Summary: You and Sy have been together for three years, but you still like to mix it up. The new neighbors down the street give you a chance to do just that.

Masterlist for series warnings. Heads up: this is 18+ ONLY

Chapter Warnings: everyone's finally fucking, p in v missionary and doggy-style, p in v straddled, anal toys, lube, condoms

I made sure to sway my hips wide from side to side as I crawled my way back to August. I wasn’t trying to make Sy jealous, but I did want him to miss me a little. Instead, it was Neve’s attention I caught and I heard her tell him she’d been hoping she could return my favor before August got greedy again. The way the words slipped out of her mouth made both Sy and I moan. When I peered back over my shoulder just before reaching the other side of the room, I saw Sy sink all the way into her, one leg hooked over his shoulder, but they were both watching me. I bit my lip and turned back to August.

“Did you enjoy yourself, darling?”

“Yes Sir. Thank you so very much for allowing it, Sir.”

“Here, let me have a taste,” he reached for me and pulled me up onto his lap to press his lips against mine. He lapped into my mouth and sucked on my lips, capturing Neve’s lingering sweetness from me. “Mmmm, she is delicious. Now, let’s get back to what’s in that box.”

I turned in his lap to face the table and bent over to drag the container closer. I picked up the second bottle of lube and the surprise he’d left for me.

“Would you like to use that while I fuck you, Drea?” he asked, kneading my hips and pressing his fingers into my flesh.

“You know I would,” I answered over my shoulder and was not surprised at all when he landed a smack on my ass. “Sir, please. Can you put it in?”

I popped the top of the lube and squeezed a generous amount on the tip of the plug. It wasn’t the largest thing I’d ever had up my ass, but it was nothing to sneeze at and it would take a little work. August was surprisingly gentle about it. He ignored me when I tried to hand him the toy and instead reached for the lube, pushing my chest down over the table in front of us to put my ass in a better position for him. After he added a few drops to the crack, he took some time massaging the liquid in and around my puckered hole, slipping first one finger and then two past the tight ring and eliciting a series of low moans from me. When he finally reached for the toy, I was almost vibrating with anticipation.

He teased the tip around my entrance, then began to push it slowly in. The exquisite stretch had me gasping, but I worked hard to slow my breath and just relax into it. I certainly meant to let him run this show, but suddenly I looked up and across the room and saw that Sy had flipped Neve onto her hands and knees. The sight of him fucking her that way made me rock back and forth wishing once again I was her and the force of my rock met his next push to send the plug fully inside me.

“You really need that, don’t you?” August asked.

“Need you to fuck me, Sir,” I cried out, then pleaded as he began to tug and twist the toy in my ass. “Please put your cock in me, Please Sir.”

“Condom, dear.”

I reluctantly pulled away, grabbed a packet from the box, and sat on the floor in front of him. He motioned for me to put it on, so I dropped a bit of lube on his dick and rolled the rubber down, squeezing the tip. Out of habit, I added a few more drops to the outside, not like my pussy needed it, then stood up, turned toward him, and waited for his next command like the good girl he wanted me to be.

“No sass? No talking out of turn? You don’t want to make me angry anymore?” he teased.

“I only want you to fuck me, Sir. Please.” If I hadn’t already put the condom on, I might have sunk to my knees to remind him of exactly what he was missing, but I waited. Every inch of my skin was on fire, my nerves firing on all cylinders, muscles twitchy and aching for his touch.

“Climb on.”

He leaned back against the couch and grabbed hold of each leg as I placed my knees to either side of him. I reached down between us and took hold of his massive cock, positioning the tip at my entrance. I rubbed the head over my swollen lips a few times before angling him so I could simply slide down to spear myself on his gorgeous length. He could not hide the way it made him feel. I watched his eyes flutter and I started to smirk, but then he clenched his jaw to steel himself, determined not to give me one iota of an upper hand.

I couldn’t take it if I tried. I was so full of his cock and the plug that I could barely sit still. I draped my arms around his neck and leaned forward a little so I could bounce up and down and feel him drag in and out of my pussy. The tension was divine. His hands traveled around my thighs and onto my ass, pressing and pulling and helping to guide me along his length. I felt him knead the flesh and spread my cheeks apart as he snaked a hand even further behind me to press and wiggle the handle of the butt plug. I’m sure the movement felt good against his cock inside me for him, but it drove me absolutely wild and I was coming hard in a matter of moments.

August was far from done.

Part 11

#captain syverson fanfiction #august walker fanfiction #captain syverson #august walker #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill characters #captain syverson x reader #captain syverson x reader/ofc (drea)#august walker x ofc (genevieve)#welcoming committee #mine #deandoesthingstome

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towriteloveontheirarms · 8 months

Text

"Unbelievable"- The kissing booth AU Chapter two

part 3 of 4 || series masterlist || previous part || next part

pairing: modern!Aegon II Targaryen x Reader, side modern!Aemond Targaryen x modern!Floris Baratheon

summary: Aegon drives you home after the fundraiser, There is another party even though at first all seems to go worse than ever, he gives you something that gives you hope.

word count: 2.9k

warnings: kissing/making out, fighting, sexual harrasment, love confession, piv sex, unprotected sex, first time sex

Taglist: @fan-goddess

(If you want to be tagged in this fic or any specif character taglists, send me an ask)

You slowly and reluctantly pull away from him after a while. Shoulders and chest wrecked by heavy breaths and lips split by the biggest smile of your life. Neither of you speaks for a second. Too concentrated to on drowning in each other's gazes.

“Shit, e-everyone just saw that...” You find your words first as the two of you realize that you are in fact not in a movie or your own little world, but still at your school's fundraiser. In front of a crowd of spectators, nonetheless.

“Yep, pretty much.” He replies in a much more confident tone that only you can hear over the cheering crowd. And then there it is again, that smile of his, that makes your heart feel like it is about to break out of your chest with how fast and hard it is beating.

“No! Kill me now, please!” You hide your burning face behind your hands as he chuckles.

“Relax, princess. It was just a kiss!”

You agree with him, but as you watch him leave it doesn´t feel like `just a kiss´. It feels like so much more than `just a kiss´. And as your mind fully returns to reality, there is only one thought. What are you gonna tell Aemond?

It takes a while to find your best friend in the mass of people that is walking around, but even that time isn´t enough to find an answer to that question.

“Is everything alright?” Aemond stands in front of you and looks at you with worry and your mind feels about as blank as it was during that kiss.

“Yeah, no, yeah. Everything was perfect. Something kinda funny happened actually.” You try to mask the wavering of your voice by laughing a bit more excessively than necessary. Hoping he would laugh along as you continue to speak. “I ended up kissing your brother.”

But Aemond doesn´t laugh. On the contrary. His face falls into a deep frown and his eyebrows knit together for a moment. He´s trying to gauge something. Then he lightens up again.

“Just don´t end up fucking him. Or I will literally never talk to you again.” He remarks in a half serious tone.

“What? No, ew, what do you think of me?” Arguably your tone is a bit too over the top to be believable, but if he suspects something Aemond doesn´t speak up.

You feel quite on edge after the conversation with Aemond and so you decide to run home.

Stretching before you go, your eyes land on Aegon once more. He stands a good bit further away from you so you can´t hear what he is talking about, but from the looks of it and by the way he leans down to the girl, whos back is the only thing you see, it all points to him flirting with her. You shake your head and start to run. Doubting the kiss even meant anything to him.

You are halfway through the way home when lightning strikes through the sky and a loud clap of thunder is heard. Luckily for you right in that moment Aegon stops his motorcycle behind you. You don´t trust the thing, but you also are not in the mood to get wet and catch a cold from the rain, so you put on the helmet and hold onto Aegon tightly. Still, the rain gets too strong to continue safely and so you stop at a gazebo to shelter yourselves from the downpour.

The air is cool and there is a tension that you can´t quite put your finger on, making you shiver. You slowly inch closer to him, to profit from the warmth that radiates off his body. Without a word Aegon takes off his leather jacket and puts it over your shoulders wordlessly.

It´s one of the first moments you truly realize how much he towers over you. His hands wander upwards from your shoulders and while his thumbs rest on your cheeks, the palms easily reaching to the back of your neck.

Your breath shudders at how softly his rough hands rest against your skin. Your heart beats out of your chest once more and your eyes are focused on switching between his darkened ones and his beautiful, pink lips.

This time it is you who moves in to kiss him. Simply unable to stay away from him any longer after the incident at the fundraiser. The way his lips move against yours in slow, perfect motions sends a shiver of excitement down your spine. Which leads to Aegon pulling you closer and picking up the pace of the kiss. You wrap your arms around him tighter in the same notion as to not lose balance on your tiptoes. And then, just as his tongue presses against your lower lip to silently ask for entrance the light of a flashlight takes you out of the moment.

You stumble away from Aegon as he is reprimanded by the security person, that he was warned about bringing girls to the site. Your mouth falls open with a scoff of pure disbelieve. Stomping away into the now dry but still cold as fuck night, that immediately forces you to turn around. “Just so you know, I’m still mad at you, but It’s cold and you are going to take me home.” You huff.

Despite your ruined mood you relax against his back as you once more hold onto him tight.

And as you close the door to your house the already rocky mood, doesn´t promise to take a turn for the better any time soon.

“I thought Aemond was driving you home tonight.” Your father's tone is even, but it is apparent that he isn´t amused.

“Yeah, sorry dad. Something came up so Aegon drove me.” You sigh as you walk past him.

“So, I won´t see you on a motorcycle again?”

“No, you won´t. I promise. I´ll go to bed now. The evening was kinda exhahusting.” You rub your eyes and close the door to your room before your father can say anything else.

You unceremoniously throw yourself onto the bed and pull out your phone in time to see Aemonds message before you hear the ping of the device.

“Did you get home okay?” Another deep sigh passes your lips as you read the message repeatedly. You didn´t want to lie to him, but you also couldn´t tell what happened yet. So, as you lie down, you try to remind yourself of rule number six of your friendship rules. If you can´t tell your best friend about something you're doing. You probably shouldn´t be doing it. In moments like these you wish your mom would still be with you.

The tension between Aegon and you only rises with time and with neither of you confessing or forgetting about the whole thing the end up making you both crazy. One day, while you are having a party with a lot of people from school, you see him swarmed by girls while playing volleyball and decide you are not going to sit with that dirty feeling of jealousy coursing through your veins. Pulling off your clothes you reveal the most gorgeous two piece, that pushed your boobs up to look better than should be allowed. You know he keeps a close eye on you and you can feel his gaze burning as you go down the water slide and play stupid drinking games. Of course, you never exchange a word. Day quickly turns into night and as you go to get another drink, slightly tipsy and alone since Aemond went off to make out with Floris somewhere, you find yourself approached by none other than Qyle Martell.

“You look pretty. You should come join me in the whirlpool.” His voice leaves no room for discussion.

“No thanks, Qyle. I´m good.” You refuse anyway. Not in the mood to entertain someone who is known to be, well... Qyle Martell.

“Come on. I´m sure I could make it worth your while...” He grabs you by the wrist. More persistent than before if that was even possible without flat out carrying you there.

“She said no, man.” Aegons voice booms from behind you. Full of the pent-up frustration of the day.

It gives you a chance to pull your wrist out of Qyle´s grip, who deems the oldest Targaryen sibling with a sarcastic scoff.

“I´m fine. Please just drive me home? Please.” You whisper, suddenly feeling tiredness weighing down your entire body. Knowing Aegon´s temper, you take him by the hand and pull him away from the scene, before the three of you gain even more attention.

It only serves Qyle right though, because when the two of you are a good distance away already almost out of hearing distance he decides to yell after you. “I´d be mad as well, if I was doing it with my little brother's sloppy seconds!”

You hear the laughter erupt behind him and while, selfishly you aim for a running away strategy, Aegon doesn´t. Instead, he runs towards the Martell, knocking him of his feet. By the time you make it to where the cars are parked you have made your peace with walking home and finding Aegon with a busted face tomorrow. But to your surprise you hear his voice behind you. Loud and shaking and addressing you by your real name for once. “Get in the car.”

You halt in your steps and wince, but don´t dare to turn around and face him.

“Just get in the car.” He slams his fist down on the hood of his car, before his voice becomes softer, bordering on begging. “Please”

With tears pricking at your lower lash line and your eyes trained on the ground you do as he tells you and get in the car. There is a heavy silence between the two of you for the first half of the drive. Until the blond finally finds his voice again.

“I´m... Sorry, for lashing out... But you gotta understand me here too. This wasn´t how it was supposed to go. I never meant to fall for my brother's best friend.” He sounds so vulnerable in that moment, you don´t know what to say and so you only look at him. Tears still shining in your eyes.

“Wait... this isn´t the way home.” You whisper confusedly, after looking out of the windshield for a moment.

“I want to show you something.” That’s all the information he gives you.

He drives the two of you out of the city and then some further. Leading you up a hill until you are at the perfect spot to overlook the city. The lights shining brightly even to the spot you are at.

You marvel at the view, with wide sparkling eyes, but the reality of you are there with catches up to you sooner rather than late.

“So, the how many girls have seen this with you?” You sit down in the grass, legs tired from the day.

“No one. I only come here alone. Well until now.” Despite his tender and honest tone, you scoff.

“Gods, you are such a player. Your literrally haven´t changed. You´re crazy.” You see a hurt look flash over his face, but it makes way to a smug smile as fast as it appears.

“I´m crazy about you.”

“Alright.” You sigh deeply. Shaking your head. “There will be some rules if this is supposed to work.”

“Bring it on.” He feel his warmth close to you as he sits down so close his shoulder touches yours.

“Number one: There can´t be any more fighting.” You count on your finger.

“Okay, done.” He chimes in.

“Number 2: You stop telling me what to do.” You put more emphasis on that one as you put up another finger.

“Cross my heart.” He swears, drawing an x over his heart with his finger. The gesture earns hum a serious glance telling him to let you finish talking.

“And number 3: If we do this nobody can know. At least until you know how to tell Aemond. I mean it. Not a single soul.” You put a third finger up and speak with yet again more intention.

It tempts him to tease you more. “Has anyone ever told you that you´re cute when you´re bossy.”

“I´m serious, Aegon.”

“So am I.” He cups your cheeks in both of his rough hands and you are a goner once more.

As if through a magnetic pull, the two of you move in for another kiss. Locking lips for a slow and languid touch. With out any interruption this time, it quickly escalates. Starting with him nibbling on your lower lip until it is a passionate, desperate fight for dominance. Every time he moves in again, he steals the breath out of your lungs only to breath it back into them. His hands wander down to rub circles into your hips, eliciting the sweetest sounds from you, as yours run all over his muscular chest and arms.

“We don´t have to do this.” He whispers breathlessly. His pale cheeks dark red with a blush form your actions and you can feel your own burn as well.

“I want to do it. I want you.” You assure him with a murmur in his ear. Kissing along the shell of it, nibbling on his earlobe and then trailing down to suck on his neck. Pulling away you proudly notice the small bruise that has discolored the skin. Your eyes flick up to meet his half closed, darkened by lust ones.

“Fuck, I need you too.” He breathes. Carefully pushing you backwards until your back hits the ground.

Instinctively your fingers thread into the silky locks that are his hair. Legs spreading for him to find his place between them. Your eyes shut tightly as he kisses you again. Teasingly rubbing his hardness against your core. The friction it provides pulls the sweetest moans from both of your lips, spilling into each other's mouths as you never break your kiss.

When he sheathes his cock inside your tight heat, your head falls back with a whimper of his name escaping your lungs from the stretch of your velvet walls. "Aegon...”

“I know. You have no idea how long I have waited for this.” His lips find the crook of your neck. Kissing and biting on the soft skin. Going lower. Pushing your shirt up to suck on one of your sensitive nipples, sucking his own marks into the flesh around it. Easy to be concealed later on as to not catch anyone's attention. The pace he sets is fast. A testament to both of your desperation.

“Gods, you are so tight.”

“Hmmm, you feel so good. Please, please.” You don´t even know what you are begging for, but the pleas seem to be the only words left in your mind. The rest is overtaken by him. His smell, the taste of his lips, the way his skin feels against yours.

The sound of skin slapping on skin drowns out the sound of the cicadas singing. You feel helpless to him in all the best ways. And then, one of his hands slides between your thighs to play with your clit, the other still twirling and pinching your nipples, you are driven right up to the edge.

“Aegon... I won´t last much longer.” You whine. Needily wrapping your legs around his hips to pull him closer.

“Me neither.” His answer comes out intermittently.

He picks up the pace with which his hips meet yours. Driving you into the earth underneath you, your hips barely able to meet his anymore.

“Let go for me, sweetheart. Come for me.” He encourages you in a strained, but all the same saccharine voice.

That´s all it takes to send you over the edge of pleasure. As your hips start to shake uncontrollably you gasp out his name. Feeling him spill himself inside of your fluttering cunt with a groan of yours. Too weak to hold himself up any longer Aegon collapses onto you. Burying you underneath his weight, but you don´t mind it. Once you are both calmed down, aside from your legs that still tremble around his waist, you lean your forehead against his.

“That was...” You look for a fitting word, but there are none to describe what you had felt. The intimacy, the bond, yet he seems to understand without you having to find the words.

“Yes, it was.” He nods ever so slightly to not have to pull away from where your faces rest against each other.

The two of you share a laugh and soon thereafter fall asleep. Exhausted from the day at the beach and your activities after.

You wake up before him the next morning. The last rays of the sunrise painting his face in a beautiful light. You have never seen him look so peaceful in your life. An almost angelic vibe surrounds him with the way his silver blond hair splays out around his head. You have no idea what would happen next, no clue how all this would play out. Though the feeling in your tummy tells you it won´t blow over easily. And yet as all this flows through you, one thought prevails. This is all that damn kissing booth's fault.

#aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon ii #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii x reader #aegon x reader #hotd modern au #modern house of the dragon au #house of the dragon fic #hotd fic #hotd x reader #hotd #house of the dragon

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nobody7102 · 2 years

Text

The Killjoy: Chapter 2

Pairing: Robert 'Bob' Floyd x Reader

Warnings: None (that I know of)

A/N: Chapter 2 is here! Taglist is CLOSED

Chapter 1. Chapter 3

Series Master-List

Main Master-List

Callsign: Killjoy

_______________________

Glancing between the files on her desk and the computer screen in front of her, Y/N typed away at a report before her hand went to flip a page of the file. Reading the first line of the page, a sigh escaped her lips before she pushed the chair away from the desk and stretched out her arms, a groan followed feeling the popping of her joints.

She leaned forward and shifted though a few small stacks of paper before pulling out a separate file, as she opened it she leaned back in her chair. A frown formed over her lips as she read over the words on the page before flipping the paper over to read the back, yet before she could a knock pulled her from the page. Quickly setting the file down, she covered it up with a few other papers before clearing her throat “Come in” Opening the door Pete popped his head into the office before stepping in fully “Captain Mitchell” she sat up a bit straighter. “I was just finishing up printing out the reviews”

Pete hummed “Oh good we can get those out to everyone… that’s actually not why I’m here” he paused looking to the ground before looking to Y/N “I wanted to say I’m sorry about earlier, I crossed a line and I shouldn’t have accused you of letting your past cloud your judgment… I of all people shouldn’t have gone that far and it was absolutely hypocritical of me...” he trailed off.

Standing from her chair she walked over to the printer in the temporary office, grabbing papers from it. “Maverick… It’s… fine really, If I were in your position… and given my flight history, I would have done the same” she cut the small pile of papers in half and handed them over to Pete. “I just hope that it won't be an issue again in the future”

He shook his head taking the papers “No,” he hummed. “So I gave them the run down, these the reviews?” Y/N nodded as Maverick turned to hold open the door for Y/N “Then lets go criticize some pilots” he smirked.

Making their way to the hangear, Y/N read over the first name in her pile of reviews before setting the review down in front of Hangman. “Your reviews” she started before placing another i in front of Fanboy “Will be your guides to this mission, I can’t tell you how to fly because at this point in your career, none of you really give a shit anymore and have your own style” she continued to hand out the reviews in her hand before standing at the front of the group “But I can give you small points, for example I put this on all of your reviews, ‘Relax into the G’s you pull’ I know the practice course that was laid out doesn't have you pulling a lot of G’s but from what I did see, all of you are tense when you pull G’s” she watched as Maverick passed out the rest of his reviews. “I don’t know what you’ve been told to do for previous missions but you shouldn’t get G-lock in this terrain, it's mostly forrest so there’s no climbs, if there are then they’re small enough where you shouldn’t have to worry”

“Captain Y/L/N will be doing reviews after every lesson, if you have any questions about your reviews please see me or her” Pete crossed his arms watching the faces of his students as they read over their papers. “If you would like to practice your reviews, we’ve been given permission by Cyclone to use the facilities between 8 AM to 3 PM, you just need to inform myself, Killjoy, or Hondo… if none of you have any questions right now, then you’re all dismissed for the day”

Standing from their spots the pilots made their way out of the hangar. Pushing past the students, Y/N made her way to her office, cleaning up from the day.

Only a few minutes of silence filled her office before there was a knock on her door again.

Poking his head into the office Maverick eyed Y/N for a moment before he spoke “Everyone was talking about going to the Hard Deck for drinks, would you be interested in joining us?” He raised his brow.

Y/N’s eyes widened for a moment hearing the proposal “Oh… I didn’t think that th-” Maverick cut her off before she could continue “It’ll just be a way to blow off some steam, besides I think you’re gonna want to get to know your team beyond their flying.”

Looking at the paperwork in front of her before looking to the clock, Y/N nodded “yeah you’re probably right”

Maverick nodded back “Alright I’ll see you there”

Y/N watched as he left before gathering the small pile of paper in her hand, Y/N pulled open one of the desk drawers and slipped the papers inside before standing from her spot. Stretching her back as she did before she grabbed her coat off of the back of her chair and threw it on before making her way out of the office and to the parking lot.

There was a pause in her walk as she approached her car, seeing Rooster, Payback, and Hangman admiring the car. “Come one guys, I know it’s nice but whoever the owner is, is gonna think you’re a creep” Payback commented as Rooster walked around the car and Hangman crouched down next to it admiring the details.

“Oh come on Ruben, you're not the least bit curious about who owns this baby?” Hangman’s hand ghosted over the tires. “Bradshaw you curious?” he glanced over to him.

“No, Hangman I don’t want to know who has the vintage Fiat” Rooster’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

Shaking her head, Y/N approached the group “You three looking for something” she placed her hands in her pocket.

“Yeah, the owner of this beauty… Do you know what this is Captin?” Hangman stood from his spot.

Letting out a chuckled Y/N fished the keys out of her pocket “I would be a little bit worried if I didn’t know, considering that I have the keys” she held them up, the clanking of the metal bringing the boys attention from the car back to her. “You guys like it?” she watched as they nodded.

“How did you get this?” Payback raised his brow

“My dad” Y/N hummed “Then he got it from my grandpa” she walked over to the car and unlocked the door before turning back to the boys “You guys wanna look at the interior?”

Hangman’s eyes widened “Are you serious?”

She nodded “I just watched the three of you stand and gak at my car for five minutes, go for it” she laughed “As long as you don’t take forever since I pretty sure we’re all supposed to be at the Hard Deck sometime soon”

“Five minutes… ten tops” Rooster held up his fingers signaling as he, Hangman, and Payback climbed into the car to admire the inside.

Not even three minutes later, Hangman and Rooster exited the car. “Its interesting that you still have the wood interior” Rooster hummed climbing out of the passenger seat. “I’ve never seen a ‘70s Spider in a condition this well, not to mention in Marsh Green?”

“Yeah my grandpa used it all the time, then when my dad got it he just kept it in the garage” she walked over to the top of the car “So by the time I got it, it was still in peak condition, Bradshaw do me a favor” she grabbed the edge of the soft top “Grab the other side and help me fold it down” he nodded helping her fold the hod down.

Before Y/N knew it she was unintentionally leading the four off to the Hard Deck, one car behind the other as they drove. Smiling, she watched as Hangman and Payback pulled their cars next to her on the road before honking and passing her. She laughed debating with herself if she wanted to tail them, desicing against it the marine kept the speed limit before the four of them pulled into the parking lot of the Hard Deck. “You drive like you fly Seresin” she commented as they all exited their cars.

“I’ll take that as a good thing” Jake replied as they all made their way into the bar. Y/N took a moment to take in the atmosphere before she felt Rooster clap his hand onto her shoulder and lead her over to the pool tables where everyone else resided.

“Where were you guys and what the hell took you so long?” Phoenix stood up from her position at the pool, leaning against the cue.

“We were just making acquaintances with Killjoy” Payback motioned to Y/N as he took his spot leaning against the back wall between Fanboy and Maverick.

Slipping from Rooster’s grisp Y/N surveyed the group before taking a seat with Bob at one of the high top tables that surrounded the pool area “We would have been here sooner but they were infatuated by my car” she laughed taking the cup of water that was offered to her by Bob.

“She’s got a 1970 Spider Fiat” Payback hummed

“That thing still runs?” Bob took a sip of his water after he spoke to hide the smirk on his face “I thought it was junk after your little road trip” he’s smirk grew watching as Y/N’s eyes widened.

“Says you Floyd,” she laughed.

“So you two do know each other!” Phoenix leaned against the pool table “Now I have to know how this happened” she smiled watching as a light flush covered Bob’s ears and Y/N’s cheeks.

“We did basic training together” Bob eventually spoke “We were pretty much bunk mates, then we were in Top Gun at the same time… and we were in the same squadron for a while”

Hangman’s eyes widened “Bullshit, so you go on to join the best branch and Killjoy you opted for the Marines?!”

Grabbing a stray peanut shell that resided on the table, Y/N threw it at Hangman “I could still kick your ass in training Marine or not Serein” she laughed “and so could the Screaming Eagles” she took another sip of the water before setting it down on the table, “I’ll be back” turning she made her way to the bar.

Once she was out of earshot Hangman lightly smacked Bob’s arm “Dude, you’re in good graces with Y/L/N, how have you not gotten some of that?” He lightly shook his shoulders “That is a pure 8 out of 10 Bob”

Shoving Hangman’s hands off of his shoulder he shook his head, the blush on his ears deepening “Oh come on, it's not like that… we’ve just been through a lot together”

“Being bunk mates I’m sure the two of you have been '' Fanboy jokes.

Sinking down into his seat Bob crossed his arms in front of himself as the group chuckled. The chuckles died down as Y/N came back to the group with a drink in hand, she took her previous spot before Rooster broke the silence.

“So Killjoy, what's the story behind your callsign? It’s not everyday you hear a sign like that?” he watched as Y/N took a sip of her drink before setting it down on the table.

“You first… Rooster” she smiled

Smiling back Rooster nodded “Well Maverick flew with my dad… his callsign was Goose… so the three of us are a flock of birds”

Y/N chuckled “It's a shame you didn’t go for a gaggle of geese” she joked “Well… Bob technically gave me my sign back in basic”

Maverick furrowed his brows “What is a Killjoy anyways? I know the term used in a sentence but from how you fly and teach you’re anything but”

A happy sigh came from Bob as he eyed the group as he spoke “How many of you know ‘The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys’?” he watched as Phoenix, Hangman, Fanboy, and Payback’s faces flashed in realization.

“No shit”

“That’s fucking sick” “That’s insane”

“Hold on,” Rooster cut everyone off “please enlighten those who don’t know”

Y/N and Bob looked at each other before Y/N said “Do you know the band My Chemical Romance?” she watched as a few people nodded “Before Bob and I would go up in the air I would always hum ‘Na Na Na’ and anytime we were in the air and I’d get nervous I’d hum it”

“For the longest time her temporary callsign was ‘FM’ like the radio frequency, but we all got so sick of saying it that I just started calling her Killjoy over the comms and it just stuck” Bob chimed in.

Phoenix eyed the two of them before a smirk came to her lips “so you two would fly together”

A sheepish smile came across Y/N’s lips “Yeah… Bobby used to be my backseater”

Phoenix’s eyes widened “But you said you were Marine… Bob did you try to be a Marine?” Phoenix watched as both Bob and Y/N went extremely quite before Bob shook his head and Y/N answered

“I um..” she looked down at her drink then back to Phoenix “I used to be Navy… I switched branches”

Everyone eyed the two unsure what to do next before Hangman spoke up once more “What made you change your mind?”

Y/N’s face paled a bit as she tried to think of an answer before Maverick spoke up “Hey who want another round on-” before he could finish his sentence the bell sounded as Penny pointed to some pour soul who had their phone resting on the bar. “Round on that guy” he finished “Y/N you wanna help me grab the drinks?” he watched as Y/n quickly got up from her seat to follow him.

_____________________

TAGLIST CLOSED

Killjoy/Bob Taglist: @masset-fotia @sparrows-corner @lovememesomeevesey @robertbobfloydlover @zaggprincess @awesome-fandom-princess @luckyladycreator2 @hotpigeon22 @alldaysdreamers @finja-caipirinha @juniebugg @liannisha @earth-to-lottie @winterrebel04 @kidsol-ar @airedale17 @bespinnn @fantasias-creativebubble @feireads @tispykeen @seasonswinter @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @tigerlillyyy @eg-dr3amer3 @revengze @m0chac0ffee @lizbradshaw @blog-name6996 @skylynch03 @ollyoxenfrees @massivedetectivestudent @fantasticcopeaglepasta @txtdreamss @honeyofthegods @alexwinchester23 @cowboybarbie @gretagerwigsmuse @ohh-to-be-a-frog @justthefckinggrainthings-blog @ireadthensuetheauthors @mistressslytherin @oscarissacsslut @jjlevin @johnnycobra84 @justthefckinggrainthings-blog @whateverbagman @masset-fotia

General taglist: @caswinchester2000

#bob floyd x reader #bob x reader #robert bob floyd x reader #bob floyd #robert bob floyd #robert floyd x reader #robert floyd #robert 'bob' floyd #top gun imagine #top gun x reader #top gun maverick #top gun #lewis pullman imagine #lewis pullman top gun #lewis pullman x reader #lewis pullman #top gun maverick cast #top gun cast

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mavrintarou · 1 year

Text

Lord Miya Osamu [2]

Its looking like three parts... makes me feel bad for Lord Sakusa. I might need to give him a second part.

Warning: explicit smut; mentions of pregnancy; angst Notes: If you're new to this bandwagon, welcome, this is this is the 5th Haikyuu character Lord Series - please check out the others in my master list. There is a part in here that it reflects a mini scene that happened in Lord Atsumu but nothing confusing.

First part

Osamu’s cock hardens by the second and oozes milky white cum every time two of his fingers move in and out of the hot and soft walls of Y/n’s pussy. His fingers felt wonderful inside her, and he couldn’t wait nor imagine how euphoric it would be when his cock is replaced with his fingers.

He keeps his eyes alternating on his hand and her expression. Her knuckles are white from gripping the sheets of the futon, chest moving in slow deep breaths. Her eyes are shut with her lower lip trapped between her teeth.

“Does it hurt?”

She shakes her head.

“Do you want me to stop?”

She shakes her head again.

“Open your eyes and answer me properly.” He demanded, needing to know he is the one making her feel this way. Needing validation, that he is the only one that will make her feel this way from now on.

The moment her eyes open and look straight into his with the same burning passion, that was all Osamu needed.

“Please, don’t stop.” Her voice barely whispered.

Osamu adds a third finger, just to properly stretch her out and prepare her for his cock. He knows he is large. Thick. And long. But the way she feels around his three fingers, she was still much too tight, and he didn’t want to hurt her.

“’Samu,” her arms open wide, “enough, I want you.”

He lets out an agonizing groan, stroking his cock with his other hand. “This… might hurt you.”

Her mouth parted, watching the tip of his cock ooze cum each time he stroked upward. “I can handle it…”

And that does it for Osamu.

He pulls out his three fingers and uses the glistening juice to coat his cock. His other hand sticky with his pre-cum.

His thighs flex at the thought of cumming inside of her. Filling her over and over until he is sure that she is his.

Forever.

He wanted to make her round and beautiful with his child… no… children.

“’Samu…”

Osamu breaks out of his breeding trance of imagining her pregnant with his babies.

But he knows better. Not until they wed.

And he is going to wed her.

And put his babies in her.

He swallows the lump in his throat, shifting his cock closer to her wet glistening heat.

He knows he shouldn’t…

But what’s the risk if it’s just the pre-cum?

It won’t get her pregnant, right?

He presses the tip to her core, rubbing it before pushing the fat tip past her entrance. “Ahh… you –“ he chokes back on his words.

In one swift move, he thrusts until he’s fully nestled inside of her.

Osamu collapse over her, holding his weight on both his elbows. “Y/n… my Y/n… you feel so wonderful.”

Her hand cups his face and she bring his lips down to meet hers in a heated kiss. “Make love to me, ‘Samu.”

His thrusts are slow and deep, to ensure that she has adjusted to him.

Or that he has molded her pussy to his cock.

Because he is determined to be the only one to make love to her for the rest of their lives.

Osamu sits up and runs a hand through his hair. Hooded eyes land on her bouncing tits and he remembered lying in bed wondering the day he would get to feel them… touch them… suck them.

His guess was right the first time he touched them by accident, they are large.

His palm is filled with the softness and squishiness, and he gives them a handful squeeze. He swoops and takes a nipple into his mouth, suckling and swirling his tongue around the pucker tip.

Goodness, he couldn’t wait until they are full of milk.

Osamu switches over to the other side, making sure to show the same attention as well.

He doesn’t even notice his thrusts has become harder and faster.

“’Samu…” Y/n whined, legs wrapping around his body. “I’m…”

He was rutting so hard, so deep inside her sweet pussy that he came seconds after he felt her walls flutter and contracted around is cock.

He had not meant to cum inside of her but couldn’t help it.

“Y/n…” he mumbles breathless, sitting up and glancing down at his work. Her chest was marked with various red marks and her nipples looked like they have been properly suckled. “Sorry… I did not mean…” he loses his train of thoughts when her fingers graze gently along his arm. “You felt… too good.” He sits up straight and stills at the sight of their connection.

How intimate it was.

He withdraws slowly, wincing at the sensitivity.

While the damage was already done, Osamu lifts both her legs, pushing them forward until her pussy is facing him.

“What are you doing?” Y/n asked quietly. She watches his concentrated gaze at her intimate core and was about to close her legs when he prevents her from doing so.

“One second…” he mumbled.

Osamu is always careful, making sure to never cum inside any woman. His father always warned him, but he couldn’t help it when it came to Y/n.

All his senses went out the door and it came naturally to him.

As if it was rightfully his responsibility to be the one to cum inside of her.

He was too embarrassed to tell her he has always fantasized what it would be like to cum inside of a woman he cared about… and watching it flow out.

At last, the milky thick load he shot inside of her made its appearance by dribbling out of her hole and down her backside.

A hand shot out and covers his sight. He looks up at her and she mutters, “stop, it’s embarrassing.”

“Move your hand,” he orders softly, and she bites her lip before retracting her hand. His eyes hard at the gooey glob that trails down and stains the sheets. He releases his hold on her legs and uses his fingers to wipe the remaining fluid away.

His mind goes into the gutter again as he stares at the fluid that came from both their bodies.

To think this stuff can make a baby… Osamu thinks to himself.

“You’re so perverted,” he hears her say.

“Me?” he almost felt offended, but the thought went out when she sat up and turned around onto all fours and was about to get up when he grabbed her hips, stilling her. He presses himself behind her, grinding his hips against her bottom. “Where are you going?”

His cock instantly hardens again. He playfully humps her, “one more time?”

She doesn’t answer but drops down onto her elbow, pressing her bottom into him, submittingly.

They laid tangled in each other’s limbs after a few rounds of love making.

“Do not mind me being bold and straightforward, but how old are you?”

Y/n lifts her head off his chest, “I’m twenty-six years old, how old are you, ‘Samu?”

He couldn’t help the foolish grin on his face, loving how she calls him ‘Samu now than my Lord. “I’m twenty-four years old. Just two years younger than you.”

Her eyes look at his lips, “two years still…”

Osamu lifts her chin, forcing her to look at him in the eye. “It’s only a number.” She smiles, but it’s not convincing. “What’s wrong?”

She sighs, “I don’t want to rush you, but my body is aging by the day… if… if you are serious about me, ‘Samu… I don’t want to waste too much time…”

He turns his body completely towards her and pushes the hair behind her ear. “I am. I will go back home later and discuss with my parents.” He brings his lips to hers, “I want to bring you home.”

. .

Two weeks later, Y/n keeps herself occupied with the Matsui. Saeko has visited twice and glows as a married woman.

“Any news with you and Lord Miya?” She whispers the moment they had a private moment.

Y/n tries to control the heat rising on her face. She will not disclose what happened that night. The following early morning, Osamu guided her back to the Matsui resident and promised her he will return for her. She was glad her aunt did not question her absence the night before. “We are speaking…”

“That’s it?”

Taking a deep breath, Y/n answers, “I am waiting on my Lord.”

What she means behind that was that he is speak to his parents and will make the next move.

Saeko’s face lights up with joy and she squeals. “I cannot wait to hear good news.” She gives Y/n’s hands a squeeze. She leans forward, “I have potentially good news too…” she leans back and places a hand on her abdomen.

Y/n’s eyes widen with joy, “already?”

“With the way Ojiro and I have been –“

“Shh!” Y/n covers her mouth. “No need for details.” They both giggled like schoolgirls. “I am very excited, and I pray to hear good news in a few weeks of time.”

“Same goes for you too Y/n. You are definitely glowing!”

After a long day of what seemed like doing nothing, Y/n sighs and relax against the tub. The hot water was sooth for her body and muscles.

Her lower back was aching, and she caught herself yawning in the late afternoon.

And she was exhausted by bath time.

She grabs the soap and lather her arms and move to wash her breasts when she hisses at the tenderness.

A shock zapped her as she touches her chest again, feeling the tenderness.

She’s has had tenderness breast before her monthly bleed but… they were never this tender.

Counting in her head, it was more than fourteen days ago when Osamu made love to her numerous of times.

And he came inside of her all those times.

Of course, it was stupid of her to think it was okay since it was her safe days.

But the many times Tadashi made love to her when he was still alive, she did not conceive once.

Tenderness breast, lower back ache and fatigue?

Am I pregnant? A hand rests against her lower abdomen and a soft smile curve on her lips.

. .

“What do you mean no?” Osamu demeanor darkens at his father who sat across from him.

“No, you cannot marry that widow.” His father, who is a splitting image of his sons, repeated. “Atsumu has already caused enough problems for us,” he sighs deeply, “I do not need you to too, Osamu. So please, spare this family another case of embarrassment.”

Osamu narrows his eyes at his father, “Y/n is not an embarrassment.”

“’Samu,” his mother calls his name softly, “you’re right, she is not an embarrassment, but she is a widow – do you know –“

“Yes, mother, I know what it means to want to marry a widow. I know what everyone would say, and I do not care.” He looks at both, “and you two shouldn’t either. Y/n is kind, she is well mannered, and she would make a lovely daughter-in-law as well as my wife.”

His father sighs frustratedly. “You are a single man, ‘Samu. You should marry someone in your league.”

Osamu scoffs, “that’s stupid.”

“Osamu!” his mother scold, “I agree with your father, she is not fit for you.”

Osamu stands up, “I love her, and I will marry her whether I get your blessings or not.”

“Sit down.” Osamu’s eyes harden at his father. Never in his life has he ever looked at his father this way. “Sit down, Osamu.”

Inhaling sharply, he takes a seat again.

His father exhales, “I know it’s not what you want to hear but I cannot allow you to ruin your life to marry her. There are many other eligible women out there.” He looks at his wife, “in fact, we found one for you.” He glanced over at his wife, “the Imai family has their youngest daughter who is of age –“

“I will have to respectfully decline, father. I have a woman I wish to marry and that is Y/n.” Osamu stands up again, “please don’t make this hard. I only want to spend the rest of my life with Y/n and that is all.”

Osamu was about to leave the room, ending the ridiculous conversation when his father called his name with a tone he has not heard since he was a child.

“You will not marry that widow. That is the end of this conversation.”

. .

“Lady Miyazaki, you have a guest.”

Y/n’s face lights up, she stopped whatever chore she was handling and hurries towards the main room ready to see Lord Miya.

The excitement on her face morphed as it wasn’t Osamu, but a young woman.

“Hello,” Y/n quickly composes herself and bows respectfully. “How can I help you… Lady…”

The young woman stands up, bowing. “Hello Lady Miyazaki, I’m Lady Imai Suzu, Lord Miya Osamu’s future bethrow.”

Y/n kept her composure and controlled her facial expression even though her heart has just been pummeled. “Congratulations Lady Imai.”

Lady Imai looked a lot younger, no more than the ripe age of eighteen.

She smiles, cheeks flushing. “Thank you but I came today because I wanted to confirm something with you.”

Y/n’s breath hitched quietly. “What is it that you would like to confirm?”

The young lady herself was hesitating. “There are rumors that…” she broke eye contact, “you were seen entering a hotel with Lord Osamu a few weeks ago?” Y/n opened her mouth, but she continued, “I am not mad or upset. Lord Osamu is a man, and he has his needs but after we wed, I do hope you will know your place.”

Y/n nods her head, “of course, you will not need to worry about me.”

. .

Osamu is livid.

Lady Imai Suzu is sitting in front of him, smiling fondly at him and his parents.

“I am honor to be part of the Miya family.”

Had Osamu known that the guest they were going to have for lunch was her, he would have found a good enough excuse to leave home.

His father and mother has been keeping a close eye on him that he has not been able to go visit Y/n or send her a message.

Laying up late at night, Osamu has been trying to find a way to end this engagement with Lady Imai.

He had no idea that his parents has been working diligently behind his back with his own engagement.

Words has already been spreading and he needed to figure something out quickly before it reached Y/n.

It was three weeks later when Osamu had enough.

Enough of his parents.

Enough of this engagement talk.

Enough of Lady Imai.

And enough of Y/n ignoring him.

As soon as Y/n walked out the Matsui gates in her black kimono, Osamu came from behind, covering her head to shield her face with his haori and guiding her away from any lurking ears and eyes.

“It’s me,” he whispered when she struggled out of his grip.

“’Samu?” he hears his name faintly.

When they are alone in an alley, Osamu turns her and cups her face, kissing her lips softly.

A kiss silently saying I missed you.

He pulls away and looks both direction before pushing the haori off her head, covering her shoulders.

They gazed at one another before something changed in her eyes and she looked away, “what are you doing here, you shouldn’t be here.”

At this point, he is sure she knew about his engagement.

“Look at me,” he softly demanded but when she doesn’t, he lifts her chin with a finger. “I’m sorry it took me so long to get to you.” His lips curve slightly, “you didn’t help by making it difficult, but I forgive you.” He teased.

“Well, you shouldn’t.” Snapped, pushing his hand away. “You need to leave before someone sees you.”

Osamu takes a step, closing the distance between them and cups her face. “Look at me, I am going to break this engagement.” His eyes soften when hers begin to gloss with tears. “I love you. I want to be with you and only you. I’m going to find a way out of this and I’m going to make sure we are together.” His thumb swipes her tear. “Believe me, okay? Just… just wait for me.”

“No, Lord Miya.”

Osamu’s face dropped. “What are you saying?”

She gently pushes his hands away and takes a side step away from him. “No, I am not going to wait for you. I do not want to be with you anymore either.”

He whispers her name, “you – you don’t mean that…”

“I do,” her voice firm, “it was good while it lasted but we need to go our own ways now.”

Osamu steps forward grabbing her shoulders, “stop – you don’t mean that. You want me just as much as I want you.” His eyes search her eyes, “you’re lying – you’re just saying that to get me to marry Lady Imai.”

“You need to marry her; it is the right thing to do.”

“Bullshit.” He swears, “I don’t understand this change of heart, but I know it’s not real, you don’t feel that way Y/n. I don’t believe you –“

Looking at him straight in the eyes with her glossy ones, she cuts him off with, “I have accepted Lord Matsui Satoshi’s marriage proposal.”

. .

Osamu’s brow knit as the servant of his brother hesitated. “What do you mean Lady Miya isn’t here? But my brother is here?”

She nodded her head, “yes, Lord Osamu.”

Osamu gives her a confused look and thank her, leaving to find his brother.

He enters his brother’s office and takes a seat across from him. Ever since his older brother settled down, Osamu never thought the day would come to see his brother act mature.

“I didn’t see sister-in-law, where is she?” Osamu asked when his brother set his writing brush down.

“Home.” Atsumu answered quietly and tiredly.

“In her room?” Osamu is genuinely confused. His brother’s demeanor and the atmosphere, something wasn’t right. “I came here to ask her for some advice…”

His twin lets out a sigh, “home as in her family home.”

Osamu blink, trying to understand the situation. “So, you’re here… and she’s… there?”

Atsumu sighed for the nth time, “yes little brother. She has been at her family home for a week now.”

He went on to explain what was going on between them.

Osamu came to get some advice from his sister-in-law to end up having to give advice to his own brother.

“… you need to get her back and treat her well.”

“I know,” Atsumu answered, “I need to get her back.” Atsumu lifts his chin, “why are you here?”

They spent the last twenty minutes talking about Atsumu that Osamu forgot why he was there until now.

“You see brother, I too am having woman problem.”

Osamu can’t remember the last time he and his twin had a serious conversation – one that seem like they needed each other.

He watched his older brother pull out a stash of fine sake and pours two cups, respectfully setting one cup in front of him. “Well then, spill it.”

“How do I break my engagement with Lady Imai?”

Atsumu sips his sake before answering, “you don’t want to marry Lady Imai?”

“Of course not, she’s still a young girl.” Osamu sips his sake, exhaling deeply. “I do not want to marry her because I’m in love with someone else.”

Atsumu’s brows hiked, “oh, who is this other lady?”

“Lady Miyazaki Y/n.”

Atsumu’s head tilt as he lets the name sink in. “Isn’t that Lady Aran’s – “

“Chaperone, yes.”

“The widow?”

“Yes,” Osamu gritted.

Atsumu takes a deep breath, lost in his thoughts. “Let me guess, mother and father said no?”

“Correct.”

“And engaged you with Lady Imai without your consent?”

“Correct.”

Atsumu lets out frustrated sigh, “you need to be a man and break it off with Lady Imai.”

“Just like that?”

Atsumu nods, “yeah, be honest and break it off with her. Tell her you love someone else.”

Osamu stared at his twin for a second, “when did you get so…”

“This happens when you fall in love, you understand things you didn’t get before.” He sips his sake, “is Lady Miyazaki someone you really want to spend the rest of your life with?”

“Yes.” Osamu answered in a heartbeat.

“She’s worth it?”

“Yes!”

“Then you need to fight for her.” Atsumu stares at his brother, “exactly like what you just told me. We need to fight for our women.”

“But she’s going to marry that punk Saitoshi.”

Atsumu crosses his arms against his chest, “you’re going to let that punk take your woman?”

“Over my dead body.”

. .

“We cannot marry.” The smile on Lady Imai’s face morphs into a frown. Osamu has called her to have a private meetup at her family home. “I am in love with someone else and it would not be fair to you or to me if neither of us is happy. So,” he inhales sharply, “I cannot marry you. I am sorry.”

Osamu is prepared for all scenarios. Ready for her to cry. Ready for her to hit him. Ready for her to yell at him. Ready for her to refuse.

She lets out a deep sigh. “It’s Lady Miyazaki?”

“Yes,” Osamu answered softly, “it is her that I am in love with. And she is in love with me too.”

“I know,” Suzu’s voice cracked, “I saw the pain in her eyes when I told her I will be your future bethrow.”

Osamu frown, “you met her? When?”

“About four or five weeks ago,” her head bows, “it was before our parents officially announced it.” She apologized immediately when Osamu closes his eyes and inhales sharply. “I did not think and assumed she was only someone to temporarily fill your needs until we would marry.”

“You are wrong,” Osamu said quietly. “I love her, and I wanted to marry her before my parents even spoke about your existence. Unfortunately, my parents do not approve and went ahead and moved forward this engagement.” No longer wanting to waste any more time, Osamu looks at her, “I am here to tell you that I will be calling our engagement off. I owe you the explanation first and will take all the responsibility. I wish you well, Lady Imai. You deserve someone who will love you dearly as I love Y/n.”

. .

First Lady Matsui looks at him with sorrowful eyes. “Lord Miya, she is no longer here.” She repeated. "She has returned home with my son, Satoshi.”

The colors on Osamu’s face drained. “What – what do you mean?”

“Lord Miya, you mustn’t come here, you have a bethrow already and I don’t want any issues to come to us – “

“It is Y/n that I love and that I want to marry.” Osamu interrupts her. “It is I that she wants to be marry too.” He steps forward, “aunty, please – please tell me where she is?”

“Osamu,” she lets out a sigh, “I know your parents will not approve of her because she is a widow, don’t make this hard for you and for Y/n. You knew better than to get involved with her.” She takes a step back past the gates, “you shouldn’t be here, please return to your home.”

>>> @hellatrashdontask @queenelleee @wrongimagine @eadyladlegard @mfreedomstuff @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolffmaiden @satoritendoucultsacrifice @yourgonvermnethooker @littlemochi @cloud-lyy @pana-dolle @basmamme @haitanifxn @itsroseally @warrior-of-justice @jmnfilter @captainchrisstan @omissanitizerlol

#Lord Osamu #haikyuu smut #haikyu x reader #haikyuu osamu #haikyuu miya osamu #haikyuu miya #haikyuu miya atsumu #miya osamu smut #miya osamu x you #miya osamu x y/n #miya osamu fanfiction #osamu smut #osamu fluff #osamu x y/n #osamu x reader #osamu miya

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stardropsandrain · 1 year

Text

Lucifer W/ Trans Masc Partner HC

Warnings; mention of slurs, misgendering and scars

Please do enjoy

He loves you no matter what. You're the one and only human he will ever willingly tolerate for so long

If anyone EVER misgenders you, they have one chance to correct themselves before they're not seen again (he probably told Diavolo about it and made him take care of it before he killed the culprit)

If someone were to call you a slur? Oh they better hope Diavolo gets to them first. Diavolo is by no stretch of the imagination any less upset, but what he does would probably be considered angelic compared to what Lucifer would've done to them

Lucifer is all over you that day, whenever he sees you he gives you a kiss on the forehead and mumbles a soft 'you're so handsome' or ' you're perfect my love'

He, for once, will cast aside his work and duties for that night. If you allow him he just holds you while you guys watch a movie or series, kissing your face, neck or any exposed skin he's allowed to kiss

Of course the news will soon travel to the rest of the brothers. They rush to Lucifer, making sure he took care of it properly 'he won't bother anyone again' was his answer. It quited the brothers rather quickly 'now leave me to my work' they would scamper back to their rooms and Lucifer would return to his 'work'

He loves tracing your surgery scars if you'll let him 'pretty' he'll mumble before kissing it

If you haven't had surgery he's always making sure you never over bind. He can't remember to eat but if you don't take off your binder the second eight hours ticks off he's behind you 'my love, time to take off your binder' 'Lu, I'm cooking dinner. It can wait a bit' he huffs but waits for you to finish cooking 'quickly now my love, before the food gets cold, or eaten' a pointed stare at Beelzebub who entered as soon as food was done

If you follow him and change out of the binder he'll let you have one of his shirts if you'd like to wear it and kisses your forehead 'you're so handsome'

If you don't, maybe you're feeling very dysphoric that day. The thought of your uncompressed chest plaguing your thoughts. He'll notice the change in your behaviour and take you to his room to talk 'what's wrong' 'nothing Lu' 'darling do not lie to me, I want to make you feel better' you'll explain to him and he's completely understanding. But your health comes first. He'll gently coax you out of your binder and fit you in what you're most comfortable in. He'll bring dinner back to you and then go to his desk to finish some papers. You're probably almost asleep by the time he slides into bed with you 'you're perfect my love. Absolutely perfect'

If you let him he loves to call you a good boy and watch you melt. He does it with the simplest tasks as well 'My dear, pass me a pen please' you'll pass him a pen and he'll smile 'good boy' he watches you freeze as your face reddens (thats not trans/gender non conforming specific but just had to add it)

Showers and baths can be hard, especially if you haven't fully transitioned or had surgery. Lucifer will do everything he can to make sure you're comfortable. Even if that means just stepping back and leaving you alone for a bit

But he'll offer to stand with you in the shower, washing you so you don't have to. He'll encourage you to do it, but if you dont want to, he won't hesitate to gently wash you off. He'll talk about your day, his day, plans for tomorrow. Keeping your mind busy from your creeping thoughts. When you're done he'll wrap you in a towel and kiss your forehead. He'll dry you off and let you get dressed before continuing the rest of your day/night

A/N; That is all for now. I think I'll maybe do more NSFW ones later.

Good riddance and stay safe 🖤🖤🖤

#lucifer #obey me #obey me lucifer #x male reader #x transmasc reader #trans man #Spotify

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sadboyeddie · 2 years

Text

Part 1: Early To Rise

Happy Camper Series

Summary: Another camping story to add to the pile. You like Eddie, Eddie likes You, Eddie likes Steve, Steve likes Eddie, Steve likes You. Can I make it any more obvious?

Warnings: smut, blow jobs, crass words? (Minors DNI! 18+ only)

A/N: Okay so it's been a hot minute since I've written anything long so please be gentle. English IS my first language I'm just dumb and bad at grammar.

4.1k words

Masterlist | 1 | 2 | 3 |

You drop your duffel bag to the ground with a tired huff before checking your watch: 5:35am, you let out a yawn while rubbing your eyes and stretching your back, feeling a little better after hearing your vertebrae pop.

“Mornin’ sleepy head.” Steve greets, way too cheery for this time of morning, as he walks past you towards the back of the car. “Sleep okay?”

You narrow your eyes and go to flip him off, your usual sweet demeanor replaced with snark by having to wake so early, but before you can a very tired Eddie sidles up beside you and drops his bag with a similar sounding huff like the one just you made.

Steve chuckles at the sight before him while loading the gear into the back of the eight seater car he borrowed off his dad.

“Why are we leaving this early?” Eddie’s voice takes on a small groan at the end, a small shiver wracks his body at the chill of the morning air. “It’s unnatural.”

You let out a snort and lean your head on his shoulder, his arm instinctively coming to wrap around you, huddling close for warmth.

“Hey blame Nance,” Steve raises his hands in defence, moving over to grab yours and Eddie’s bags. “I was happy to leave at around 8.” He shrugs.

“Still too early.” You mumble causing Eddie to let out a small amused huff. “Speaking of Nance, why isn’t she here helping pack the car?”

“She’s picking up Robin,” Steve’s voice comes out a little muffled, his head buried in the boot mentally checking stuff off his list. “And to be fair neither of you are helping pack the car.” He throws a amused glare at you and Eddie.

“Be honest, Steve, do you really want us,” Eddie gestures between you both, “packing the car? Do you want another linen closet incident?”

Steve rolls his eyes at the memory of asking you both to help him clean for a party when all you did was shove everything, and he means everything, into the tiny hallway linen closet. Later that night when someone asked for a throw blanket and Steve went to retrieve one all that was heard was a small yelp followed by a comically loud crashing sound.

“Yeah, never again thanks,” Steve scoffs moving to start packing the blankets. “I don’t think these will fit in the back if I’m gonna put the girls stuff here,” Steve speaks aloud but not to anyone in particular. “Might just shove them over on the back seat.”

“Put them in the middle row,” You stop him as he walks towards the side door, “I like sitting all the way in the back,” You explain seeing the look of confusion on his face, “it’s nice and cosy.” With a shrug Steve moves to place the pillows and blankets in the middle row per your request.

“Are you sitting in the back too?” Steve briefly glances towards Eddie as he moves to grab a cooler of drinks to put on the floor behind the drivers seat.

“Yeah, why not?” Eddie lifts his shoulder in a half shrug.

“Wow, don’t sound so enthused.” You grumble but still tilt your lips up in a small smile.

“I would normally do a little dance but I’m too tired, Princess.” He nudges your shoulder with his and you turn your head hoping to hide the blush.

Princess. It’s a recent nickname. One that has you hiding behind your hair like a giddy school girl. You’re used to nicknames from Eddie, you’re like 98% sure he hasn’t said your actual name since meeting you. But this one just hits different.

Before a retort can leave your mouth a car pulls down the driveway and parks beside Eddies near the garage. Out stepping a fully awake Nancy, a pep in her step as she makes her way around her car to grab her stuff out the back, followed by a tired Robin, hair askew, shirt inside out and backwards and a travel mug that looks suspiciously like one of Nancy’s.

Those two have been dancing around each other for a year now, they’re pretty much already dating except for the label and of course the acknowledgment that they do in fact like each other. Steve constantly tries to meddle, he brings it up with Robin whenever Nancy gets up to grab a drink from the kitchen or something but Robin shuts him down, he lets out a grumble about ‘clueless idiots’ as he watches the girls share googly eyes at each other.

Not that Steve has the right to play match maker. You’ve noticed he has the exact same chemistry with Eddie and yet he refuses to acknowledge it. Taking on the same defensive attitude as Robin when someone brings it up.

Eddie is a question mark wrapped in leather and denim. He’s good at hiding his true feelings behind the brick wall he built up in high school and no matter how hard you try to chip away at it you can’t pull it down completely.

That’s not to say he’s closed off entirely. In a lot of ways he wears his emotions on his sleeve. Especially when he’s playing music, either practicing on his bed or letting loose on stage, that’s the closest you’ve come to seeing how passionate and expressive he can be.

“Morning everybody,” Nancy greets, adjusting the strap of her messenger bag on her shoulder. “Ready for a fun weekend?”

A series of groans from you, Eddie and Robin is her only response as she lets out a chuckle and moves to the back of the car to throw in her bags.

“Nice mug, Buckley.” You tease as she walks over, she narrows her eyes and shoves herself between you and Eddie, the latter letting out a displeased sound of protest, a small smug smile tugs at her lips at her little payback.

“Nancy made me coffee,” she gives you a look that tells you to shut the fuck up it’s too early for this. You playfully headbutt her shoulder, you can tease her later at the campsite.

Steve and Nancy finished packing the car while the three of you engaged in tired conversation, interspersed with yawning and sniffling from the cold.

Finally at 6:05am it was time to hit the road.

Nancy sat in the passenger side beside Steve, already holding a map and a notebook of the handwritten directions as a back up because maps can be confusing. Robin took the centre row, squeezing in between the door and the blankets, she undoes a bit of Steve’s hard work as she unfolds a blanket and tucks herself in, falling asleep almost instantly. Now that’s impressive.

You and Eddie take the back, him against the far left and you to the far right. In the middle sits a plastic bag of snacks Eddie bought the night before at the gas station. You try not to over think the fact that most of the snacks are your favourites. Purely coincidental you’re sure.

You let out a small sigh as you get comfortable, surprised by how there’s more space back here then you thought. As Steve pulls away from his house Nancy turns on the radio, it takes her a few minutes to find one that’s not playing the morning news and finally lands on a station playing pop, much to Eddie’s displeasure.

☆••☆••☆••☆••☆••☆••☆••☆

An hour into the drive and you feel your eyes start to droop, too early to hold a proper conversation with Eddie you both just sat in comfortable silence.

Eddie takes notice of your head falling forward and snapping back when it wakes you up and let’s out a silent laugh, as much as he finds the display adorable he can’t help but want to help you.

He moves the bag of half eaten snacks to floor and reaches over to the middle row to grab a blanket and pillow, mindful not to wake Robin, she’s like a slumbering dragon and he does not want to deal with the wrath.

“Hey, sleeping beauty,” he gently taps your shoulder, not wanting to scare you but you still jump in your seat anyway, head instantly turning toward him eyes wide and alarmed. “Easy girl, just me,” his voice smooth but you take note of the playful smirk.

Smart ass.

“Can I help you?” You sass back, not able to stop the smile twitching of your lips at his amused expression.

“You wanna rest on my lap?” He asks, dangling the blanket and pillow between you to emphasise his question.

“Huh?” You’re genuinely unable to understand the question, your brain slow and foggy from fatigue.

Eddie feels a warmth spread through his chest from seeing that empty look in your eyes, clearing his throat to try and distract himself from where his train of thought is going he tries asking again but slower.

“You’re falling asleep, babe,” he states the obvious, voice low as to not gain the attention from the other passengers. “If you fall asleep in that position you’re gonna hurt your neck so why not lay your head on my lap? I guarantee it’ll be more comfortable.”

Babe is a never before used nickname, that and the slow tone of voice he’s using is having a strange effect on your tired brain. Unable to form a coherent sentence you just nod.

Eddie takes a second to compose himself, wanting nothing more then to pull you onto his lap and make you ride him in front of all your shared friends. He’s shocked at how quickly you’ve managed to turn him on, he’s seen you get like this many times before and has always managed to contain himself, he blames the early morning.

“Come ‘ere, baby,” his voice soft and sweet as he leans over to unclick your seatbelt, falling easily into a personality he usually keeps reserved for the one night stands he pulls into the back of his van or in the alleyway behind the hideout.

You let Eddie gently manhandle you until you’re laying down, head on the pillow facing his stomach, a little surprised you can lay this way. Weirdly spacious car.

You’re already falling asleep by the time Eddie starts combing his fingers through your hair, humming something that sounds suspiciously like your favourite song. The overall feeling of security and warmth lulls you to sleep before you can start to overthink things.

☆••☆••☆••☆••☆••☆••☆••☆

Eddie feels the exact moment you fall asleep, the tension instantly leaving your body, your head feeling a little heavier on his lap. He continues to run his fingers through your hair allowing himself to indulge just a little bit.

The last few months have been difficult for him to say to the least. After the chaotic and traumatising events of the Upside Down he found himself clinging to you and the rest of the group.

You were a year beneath him but of course graduated before him. You were always kind and friendly but never went out of your way to befriend him. He doesn’t take that too personally, you never really went out of your way to befriend anyone.

You spent most days at school either at the library or outside, reading and drawing. You’ve always been content with you’re own company and he’s more sure now that if the events of the previous years hadn’t basically forced you all together you probably wouldn’t have friends.

Every time there’s a bump in the road he lets out a grimace and tries to keep you steady as not to wake you, but apart from a soft murmur here and there you’re completely out of it.

He take this opportunity to trace over your facial features, brushing the pad of his fingers lightly over any of the blemishes and imperfections you always try to cover up, he smiles as you subconsciously seek out his touch, moving your face closer to the palm of his hand. He takes note of a small scar on your forehead near your hairline, it’s an old scar one you most likely got fighting some interdimensional nightmare. He presses his thumb over it, feeling the small bump.

The distant chatter from the front seat pulls his attention from you momentarily. The conversation between Steve and Nancy too soft for him to hear but the sound of Steve’s voice is what grabbed his attention.

The reason he’s been having such a hard time lately is because he feels himself being pulled in two directions.

There’s you: his sweet, soft, shy girl, full of sass and innocence. It’s a strange combination but you make it work. He found himself falling easily for you, how could he not?

Then there’s Steve: his big, brave, boyish jock, full of sass and poor life choices. The thoughts of Steve kept him up at night. Not cause he was attracted to a guy, he’s known for sometime he’s bisexual, no it’s because he’s attracted to Steve.

Steve never outwardly made his life hell in high school, there was the looks of disgust, he’s pretty sure that’s just a reflex that all jocks have when looking at someone whose not of their standard though, there was the few times that Steve shoved passed him when walking down opposite directions of the corridor and of course there were times when he overheard Steve and his brainless drones laughing in his direction. But that was pretty tame compared to what others did. Steve eventually did apologise for everything and it was easy to forgive him seeing how much he has changed since high school.

The first few months were filled with denial, denial, denial.

Denial that King Steve was actually a decent guy.

Denial that Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington actually started treating him as his equal with genuine care and respect.

Denial that he was attracted to Steve, his new found friend.

He’s accepted it now, no point in denying it.

☆••☆••☆••☆••☆••☆••☆••☆

It’s been two hours since leaving Hawkins and there’s still another half hour to go.

Eddie fell asleep about twenty minutes after you, his hand buried in your hair as he rests his head on his other hand.

A particularly large bump in the road results in his head slipping off his hand and thwacking against the window.

He let’s out a small grunt as he gently tries to move the position his legs are in, they’re starting to ache a bit. Unfortunately moving his lower half shifts your head forward a bit until it’s laying directly over his crotch making him hyper aware of the predicament he finds himself in.

He gently reaches down and moves your head back onto the pillow and tries to think of something, anything else.

Unfortunately his brief dream was filled with the image of Steve’s head buried between your legs while he fucked his tight ass.

He subconsciously tightens his grip on your hair and pushes your head gently down, briefly helping the pressure. He runs his other hand over his face and rubs at his eyes trying to properly wake himself up, still trying to conjure up something unpleasant to help him out, much to his horror he feels you start to move.

☆••☆••☆••☆••☆••☆••☆••☆

Letting out a soft sigh of contentment, you slowly open your eyes only to be met with the material of Eddie’s Black Sabbath band tee. Directing your gaze further up north you can’t help but smile at how at ease Eddie looks while asleep.

His head tucked against his hand, a small curve to his lips that lets you know he either fell asleep smiling or is having a nice dream.

You move to get more comfortable, your shoulder starting to ache due to the long duration you’ve spent on your side, but you immediately stop when you hear a soft groan from above you.

As you move your head slightly you realise why; Eddie is hard. You bite your lip to hold in your own noises, not knowing how to go about this. You’re mind is still cloudy and you feel slightly guilty but you can’t help but nuzzle down more, making his hips grind up slightly and his breathing start to pick up. You blame the early morning start to your slight boldness.

You silently curse and feign sleep when Steve’s horrendous driving causes you to jostle against Eddie. You hear a thud followed by a groan, and if you weren’t faking sleep you’d probably laugh and sarcastically (although genuinely) offer to kiss it better. He shifts his legs causing your head to move, his whole body tenses up and you know he’s awake now.

You wait with baited breath for him to make a move, you know Eddie has a pervy side, you’ve noticed the dirty mags peaking out from under his bed and the flash of colourful ladies undergarments as Eddie quickly shoved them into his drawer out of sight. What you fail to notice is that they’re yours.

He didn’t technically steal them, you left them at his place when you slept over and he’s just never returned them.

You bite down on your bottom lip when you feel Eddie hand take on a tight grip in your hair, the action awakening something inside you that you’ve never felt, you risk a peak and see that Eddie’s eyes are scrunched up and firmly closed as he runs a hand down his face. In your hazy mind that’s the only sign you need.

Slowly as not to draw to much attention and startle Eddie you slightly move your head back, the hand rubbing his face goes still and you’re not entirely sure but it looks like he’s holding his breath.

You summon all your courage and reach up to gently press your hand against the undeniable bulge in his black sweatpants.

Eddie let’s out a startled hiss as his eyes snap down to you, he gives you a questioning look filled with warning and confusion but you can also see lust in those big brown eyes.

He gives a barely noticeable nod, and if you weren’t hyper aware of the situation you wouldn’t even see it.

Your confidence grows at his unspoken permission, you lean over and place a small experimental kiss on the bulge just firm enough that he can just feel it. He lets out the breath he was holding through his nose and loosens his grip in your hair just slightly.

He briefly looks up towards the front to make sure no one had caught on, doing a quick scan he sees Robin still dead to the world while Steve hums along to the radio, thumbs drumming a beat on the steering wheel and Nancy’s head buried in her makeshift notes, it’s almost time to go off road to the camp ground so she’s double checking.

When he’s satisfied no one is any wiser to the situation he lightly tugs on your hair before moving to massage your scalp a bit. A sign to continue.

You ever so slowly you grip the waistband of his pants and briefs, thankfully Eddie lifts his hips a little so you can pull down his sweats and release his cock, you’re rewarded with a quiet relieved groan.

This is the first time you’ve ever seen someone’s dick this close. You’re not a virgin but your first, and only, time was a quick disappointment full of regrets.

Eddie cock is impressive to say the least, thick and heavy, above average with a large vein going from the tip right to the base. You feel your mouth water and an increased urge to trace the vein with your tongue.

You’re brought out of your lust filled thoughts by Eddie pulling your head back, his expression mixed between hunger and frustration.

“Don’t tease me, Princess,” he voice is dark, though barely above a whisper you can still hear and feel the authority from it.

You clench your thighs together at his tone before leaning forward and taking the tip in your mouth, Eddie groans a little louder then before, but still quiet enough not to be heard, and grinds his hips up causing you to take in a little more of his cock.

He gives your hair another firm tug and you get the memo, you lean down and take as much of his cock that you possibly can without gagging, unfortunately having no practice you accidentally graze your teeth over the underside, the feeling startles Eddie and his hips snap forward making you gag.

You pull off suddenly with Eddie’s assistance, eyes watering but thankfully you don’t fall into a coughing fit. Steve and Nancy who are in a deep conversation about gas prices take no notice of the sounds coming from the back.

Eddie gives a small apologetic smile as he wipes the tears from your eyes but you notice the way his cock twitches when he brings his wet thumb to lips, his apologetic smile being replaced with something different, more… dark?

Eddie directs your mouth back to his cock using the tight hold he has in your hair, you obediently open and remember to cover your teeth with your lips the best you can. He slowly moves your head until he’s almost completely down your throat, you close your eyes and focus on your gag reflex as he pulls you half way off his cock before moving you down more forcefully.

You relax your throat more as he moves his other hand below your jaw and starts to take on a more powerful pace, you start to let out choked sounds that are thankfully drowned out by the music.

You spare a glance at Eddie, his bottom lip between his teeth, face red and breath coming out in harsh pants, but he doesn’t seem so remorseful as he tightens his grip and uses your throat like a fleshlight. He’s surprisingly more controlled vocally then you’ve imagined. Being a naturally loud person you assumed he’d have more trouble keeping his moans in.

Your head starts to empty of any coherent thoughts, you’re breathing through your nose but it still doesn’t feel like there’s enough air in your lungs but you can’t find it in yourself to panic because you trust Eddie. You know he’ll take care of you.

There’s spit and dribble all over your face and on his pants but it only seems to endear him as the sight makes him fuck harder and deeper down your throat.

“G-gonna cum,” his barely audible words are the only warning you receive before he’s pushing your head all the way down his cock until your nose touches his pubic bone.

You can feel his cock bulging in your throat, you squeeze your eyes shut and harshly grab at his thighs trying not to gag, thankfully it only lasts a few seconds before you feel his warm cum painting your throat.

Either he’s too fucked out to notice or just enjoys seeing you struggle, probably both, but his dick has blocked your airway and you can feel how hot your face is getting as your mind starts to going even more hazy.

You tap his stomach a few times to grab his attention and that seems to do the trick, he quickly pulls your head off his softening cock causing you to cough a little as you catch your breath.

Unfortunately this catches Nancy’s attention.

“Is everything alright?” Nancy’s soft voice startles you but luckily you’re completely hidden but the middle row, only Eddie is in view.

“Yeah,” you quickly try to clean your face using Eddie’s shirt, the man in question shooting you an amused glance, unable to see how you look without a mirror you sit up and rub your eyes hoping it looks more like you just woke up and not like you were just throat fucked, “jus’ got something in my throat.” You fake a yawn and Nancy seems to buy it.

“Do you need a drink?” She asks, ever the worrier, she’s leaning over the back and pulling a bottle of water out of the cooler before you even have a chance to answer her.

You reach over the middle aisle and grab the chilled bottle, sending her a thankful look, “Thanks, boss,” you grin at her playful eye roll and fall back against the seat.

You sneak a look over at Eddie who has his eyes trained out the window looking at scenery, a barely there smirk on his lips. He’s tucked himself away but there’s still a dark patch where your spit is yet to dry.

Being barely 8:30am you can’t find it in yourself to overthink what all this means right now, so you turn and look out the window as the car turns down a dirt road down to the campsite.

Both you and Eddie miss the harsh grip on the steering wheel and the dark look in Steve’s eyes as he glances at you both in the rear view mirror, having just witnessed most of what happened.

One thing’s for sure: this is going to be one interesting camping trip.

#eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x steve harrington #steddie #steve harrington x reader #stranger things #stranger things fic #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #background ronancy #my writing #camping au

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ingravinoveritas · 1 year

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(Not me finishing my first fic in two years?? So excited to have something new to share, and with huge thanks to you all for your patience...)

Title: The So-Called Blush Response Author: Me Pairing: Michael Sheen/David Tennant Rating: R Warning: Brief sexual references (nothing explicit), some language Disclaimer: Not real, never happened, 100% made up. Please don’t sue. Thanks. Summary: David is the warmth Michael wants to curl up in. Takes place in 2020, during the filming of Staged season 2. Author’s Note: Inspired by these outtakes from the Staged BTS video. So much gratitude as well to the lovely people who inspired and pushed me to finish this! (Also available on AO3.)

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“I like it. love a bit of sci-fi.”

Michael watched David playing with the beam of light, sitting across from him in that fucking leather jacket.

David had told him he’d be wearing it for the shoot that day, but he still wasn’t prepared, wasn’t ready for how gorgeous it would look on him, slim shoulders and sylph-like chest fully on display. The long hair and David’s tendency to run his fingers through it had already been a distraction--in the best possible way--but the jacket only made matters worse.

Or better, if you were Michael and looking at what he was looking at.

“If I could get it over one eye it’d be great, wouldn’t it?”

“Yeah...”

How can one man get this much unadulterated enjoyment out of playing in the sun?

It wasn’t really the sun, though, stuck inside as they were. Things weren’t the same as when they’d shot the first series, a sense of hopelessness washing over the world like a tsunami. It was better now, in some ways, feeling the few trickles of light at the end of a very long, dark tunnel.

Life wasn’t normal--not by a long shot, Michael reckoned--what felt like forward momentum happening in fits and starts, his heart wearing thin from the uncertainty and false promises of seeing another face for the first time in ages.

David’s face.

They were due to film the last scene soon, in person, in the actual flesh. The thought that he’d definitely, unquestionably be seeing David again--”Wearing masks,” Simon cautioned, leaving Michael to levy a barrage of Welsh curses at Covid safety protocols--was nearly more than he could bear.

I can’t not kiss you. I can’t be that close and still be so far away.

He pushed it from his mind, focusing on the scene at hand. They were on their third take, no thanks to Michael forgetting his lines in favor of staring at David and the now-unfortunately placed beam of sunlight shimmering across his face.

“Kittenish” was the word that came to mind, even as Michael questioned whether it was acceptable to describe a grown man that way. Cats and their languid stretches reminded him of David--everything reminded him of David--both their backs arching with unearthly grace, both always managing to find a patch of warmth to curl up in.

He’d actually heard David purr once, thanks to his own carefully placed fingers and a flick of the wrist. It was a sound he’d never heard before, the gentle vibrations from David’s lithe body coupled with the look of utter need in his eyes leaving Michael wrecked and determined to hear it again every day for the rest of his life.

“Close enough,” David had said the first time they were on Zoom, apologetic. Hopeful. Always trying to make the best of things.

Wanking in a cold kitchen in the middle of the night hardly seemed to qualify, watching each other the way they had for months of filming, David’s half-bitten off moans radiating out from the laptop speakers. All of his senses were full of David, yet the room somehow felt even emptier with him on screen--there without being there at all.

Michael longed for the scrape of a chair leg, the clatter of dishes as David put them in the sink, the quiet laughter when he teased the other man for tidying up. A glass of wine in the garden after dinner, David leaning into the crook of his neck through a fog of hazy-eyed bliss, hands clasped together as they watched the sun disappear beneath the lush, sheep-dotted hills.

No, Zoom wasn’t close enough. Not close enough at all.

“Well, I’ll miss this.”

Another line in the script, another moment of genuine pathos later in the scene.

Simon writes what he sees.

Christ, he really would miss this. Not the tedious grind of filming, and certainly not the isolation of lockdown, but this. Seeing David take so much pleasure in something so small, letting go of all the unending worry Michael could never set down. He’d miss having David all to himself--even on a computer screen--for so many hours in a day, and he no longer cared if it was selfish to want more.

I love you.

Michael had nearly forgotten they were on camera and swallowed the last part, adroitly replacing it with the bit about sci-fi. He fidgeted slightly, lowering his gaze to just below David’s eye line, as if looking at him would’ve made it too hard not to say.

He was simply there. And without meaning to, Michael loved him.

The troublesome sun still hadn’t shifted angles. Simon was annoyed, muttering somewhere in the background about doing another take in ten minutes.

Ten more minutes of David in that leather jacket, of Michael trying not to think about leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses down the column of his neck. Ten more minutes of listening to David giggle as Michael cracked a series of bawdy, Welsh-flavored jokes in quick succession. Distracting himself from a truth he could no longer avoid.

I don’t really want whatever comes next. Not without you across the way, in the light.

“I have to go.”

“I’m still not ready.”

Neither one of them were.

#michael sheen #welsh seduction machine #david tennant #soft scottish hipster gigolo #staged #or 'Brokeback Mount Him' which is what I am referring to Staged as from here on out #good omens rpf #staged rpf #fanfic #writing #so happy to have this done finally #i know smut is my bread and butter but they deserve cuddly shit too damn it #feedback is also welcomed and appreciated #<3

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slyvieselkie · 1 year

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The Bar Siren

Hi Lovelies, this is my Jungkook addition to the BTS series.

I wrote this when I was super into mermaids and sirens (honestly still am). I also made this when he was 23, so yeah. And gender neutral reader as well.

Hope you enjoy ❥

They pointed at a hooded figure wearing a black mask, "KYYAA! IT’S JEON JUNGKOOK!", whispering a curse under his breath the black haired boy made a dash for it passing his fans.

Some rough hands tried to grab him but he shook it off strongly and ran into the wet darkness.

Time skip

Panting in a small alley, he looked around for any signs to text his manager, "Damn, nothing-", suddenly the soft sound of a piano before an angelic voice joined in, "...Wow...", he said breathless.

Eyes noticing the wooden sign hanging above him Jungkook read, "Dreamscape?"

Venturing deeper and deeper into the small and wet but clean alley, he was met a dead end. To his right however, were a pair of small wooden doors surrounded by hanging flower vines. With a curiosity of a child, the idol knocked on the door waiting for an answer.

Immediately the music stopped and Jungkook finally realised what he was doing, he tried to fast walk himself out of there when the doors jingled open.

"Excuse me, did you need something?"

Frozen he squeaked, "N-No?", the black haired boy could hear a confused murmur, "Well, alright then. But please know you’re welcome anytime, we open from 5pm to 2am. Have a nice night."

Like his body was possessed Jungkook spun around, "Wait!", the door was half closed and a head back out, "Yes?", blood rushed to his face vibrantly, ‘P-Pretty.'

Rosy lips curled upwards as a sweet voice asked, "Would you like to come in?", gulping shyly he nodded, "Y-Yes please", "The way is yours, Sir", welcoming hands motioned inside.

Taking a deep breath, he entered not quite expecting was unfolded in front of him, "Welcome to Dreamscape, how may I help you?"

Jungkook felt like he had entered a vintage dream, he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to leave or not. The person stood before him allowing his eyes to fully scan them. Gentle and sweet, they stood there waiting for him to make a move.

"Where would you like to sit? At the bar? In your own booth? On the second floor?”.

Growing confident the black haired boy spoke, "Closest to the stage”, eyes widened before they twinkled brightly, "Of course! Please follow me!", he was lead to the closest booth, "Here you are. At this seat, you will be able to see our sirens with the best view. Some may even play with you~"

"Sirens?", he repeated curious, "Why do you call the singers 'sirens' ?", a teasing smile appeared, "The same reason you are here."

Eyes widening the idol burst into laughter and a jingle joined him, "Ha ha ha! I never thought I’d be lured in here by a siren. Were you the one singing?"

A wink played with him, "You will have to come back to know”, Jungkook showed a bunny smile, "Definitely”, the boy asked seeing not a single soul around, "Are you not open right now? Or is it always this deserted?"

Walking to the bar his siren explained, "We’re not open right now. But sometimes it does get this empty, it just depends on the person. Whether they will enter this alley or not, whether the events they took will lead them here."

Once again lured by the voice, the black haired boy sat down at the bar, "What’s your name?", "Why don’t you tell me first, Sir?”, smirking he pulled down the mask, "I’m surprised you allowed someone so suspicious to stay for this long. Jeon Jungkook, nice to meet you."

He watched intrigued as eyebrows furrowed, "I think I’ve seen you somewhere? You look very familiar", with a cheerful laugh dark eyes twinkled, "Who knows~ Maybe we have met somewhere~ Recommend me a nice drink, Siren."

A hand stretched towards him asking for age confirmation and he scoffed, "You think I would come in here as a minor?”, a deal was struck, "ID in return for my name?", his eyes twinkled and the idol immediately took out his wallet, "Here", "No way, 23?!", an exclamation rung through the building.

Reaching out he tapped the open mouth, "Close your mouth before flies fly in", a glare was returned and Jungkook sighed, "My reward?", "Hmm? What reward?"

His jaws dropped, "You!", with a giggle his siren leaned over, "Close that mouth sweetie, you don’t want any flies in there~"

With a scoff the boy began sulking and twinkling eyes watched him, "Let me make it up; drinks on the house", "No need", Jungkook revealed his black credit.

"Ooo~ I’ll have to call you Young Master from now on!", "Give me something gentle and sweet, I’m in a bad mood”, the idol huffed only smiling when he received a melodic laugh, "Coming right up~!"

He watched with a tender smile, the entertaining and theatrical way the drink was mixed reminded Jungkook of a mesmerising dance, "Here you go! Butter beer, a bar favourite here! Made with vanilla vodka, Tennessee honey, peroni lager, caramel syrup, apple juice and egg white."

Grabbing the hefty beer, he took a large gulp and his face widened in shock, "Woah! That’s so good, I love it!", "I’m glad."

Finger tracing the cold glass Jungkook asked hopeful, "If you don’t mind, could you sing for me again?", the siren thought about it before agreeing, "Sure."

Excitedly, the idol sat down before the stage and his breath was lost at the angelic voice.

Just like the other times, he was lured in again. Forgetting his beer, Jungkook slowly stepped onto stage and stood beside the singer in awe. Unnerved, amused eyes stared back glowing brightly and lips curved into a sweet smile.

Then the idol sat down and began humming a harmony to the melody, closing his eyes the boy felt calm and relaxed. Something he hasn’t experienced in a long time. As the last note played, his eyes fluttered open and met pools of joy.

Beaming down his siren asked, "So? How was it, senior?"

His lips opened but nothing came out, 'Huh?'.

Amused a voice teased, "Oh my, can’t speak. Well, that’s not the first time I’ve done that."

A bad flame grew in his heart and Jungkook acted upon it only to realise he was back home motionless on his bed, "What the hell was that?", he whispered stunned.

There was only one thought, 'I need to go back.'

So he did, he came back every night. After two weeks he found out the siren who took his heart worked on the weekdays from 7pm to closing. Working around his schedule, Jungkook always came back for that mysterious monster that, in actually fact, took his whole soul.

It should’ve been tiring, he was running left and right to catch a small glimpse. But in a way it was also fun, the bar was always great fun and that short moment of small talk made his heart fly to the heavens. He cursed himself and the monster, they both knew what they were doing. Lingering touches, knowing eyes, vague sentences and the building tension.

That tension was released one night.

He returned to the bar after a horrible day, the only thing that could make him happy was that horrid monster. Outside in the Autumn night the black haired boy waited impatiently. All Jungkook could think about was eating his siren up, ironic right? It wasn’t the way he had planned, the idol wanted it to be sweet and memorable, but love had just been thrown out the window and desire replaced it.

"Oh? Jungkook?"

Spinning around, he met his target.

Without another word, Jungkook jumped in.

"H-Hey, are you okay?!", panicked hands pushed him away and he stared down at his meal with wide blown eyes, "You, what did you do to me? My head, all I can think about is you. You have to be responsible for this!"

Stunned, lips pursed before an embarrassed hum escaped, "U-Umm, I’ll take responsibility-"

The sentence wasn’t even finished before he was taking his siren home.

It was memorable enough for the two.

Well, seems like one being caught wasn't Jungkook but actually the siren! If you guys have enjoyed this, then great!

#bts x reader #jungkook #romance #short story #reader insert #siren #real person fiction

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