#rim lighting is my new bestie | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

footballffbarbiex · 2 months

Text

player: Rúben Dias words: 2.8k type: angst

Let's fast forward to three hundred awkward blind dates later

If she's got blue eyes, I will surmise that you'll probably date her

You dream of my mouth before it called you a lying traitor

You search in every model's bed for something greater

Everything you were learning about Rúben is completely against your will and though you’re trying to not let it get under your skin and bury deep into your muscles, you still feel any and all nuggets of information grating against your nerves. So it doesn’t surprise you when your best friend opens her mouth and says “he’s been spotted with another model.” but it does feel like salt is being rubbed onto those nerves too.

“Of course he has,” it comes out a little more bitterly than you’d intended and so you swallow some wine instead to stop yourself from saying anything else that you might regret.

“I’m sure I don’t need to tell you what she looks like.” she continues, observing you over the rim of her own glass before she takes a small drink herself.

It’s started to become a running joke for the two of you. You weren’t good enough for Rúben but he was happy to date every woman that remotely resembles you after you. It was a kick in the teeth each time you were faced with another photo of him and his latest beau and a mere mention of someone new feels like a slap.

“Kurt wants to know if you’ll come to dinner on Wednesday.” She changes the subject, knowing that this is a sore spot but it was better that she told you now than being sent it by someone else who believes they’re doing you a favour while not being considerate of your feelings at all.

“No.” You say a little too quickly.

Kurt was one of Rúben’s best friends and if he was hosting a dinner party, then your ex would be there too. You felt suffocated at the best of times merely seeing his name via google or instagram, let alone being made to share the same four walls and a table with the man.

Ex feels too strongly of a word considering you’d barely got past the dating stage. Rúben refused to put a label on the two of you and while you weren’t usually one for wanting them, you did try to ask him where you stood in the situationship. Especially because you were catching feelings, fast and hard and the idea of him not wanting to commit to you pained you more than it scared you. Ultimately, Rúben ended the … situation due to ‘commitment issues’, but had no issues with finding the ability to do so with other people.

“He was invited initially but according to their match fixtures, they have an away Champions League game.” She comments, drumming her fingers on the side of the glass in a beat that you almost recognise.

“I applaud your extensive research before coming to me with Kurt’s invitation.”

“I knew you’d back out almost immediately otherwise -”

“And I did.”

She hums in agreement.

“At least consider it? I’d love to see you there anyway.”

You’ve checked and checked and checked again more times than you wanted to admit that Rúben absolutely was out of the country ready for the game tomorrow. With no updates regarding rotations or suspensions from previous games, you’d found it “safe” to leave the comfort of your home and make your way to Kurt’s.

Having Rúben end the relationship had meant that he’d won the monopoly of the friends that you’d made being in his circle, and one of them that you had joint custody over was Kurt. Caring, funny and incredibly supportive, Kurt was everything in a person that you wish you’d found in a friend years previously. Nights at his were never boring and he was the one person you truly felt you could be around and trust not to bring up him in conversation.

By the time he’d opened the front door, you could smell a light warming scent drifting from one of the hallway candles which was quickly swallowed up as you approached the kitchen. If you were peckish upon arrival, then as dinner was being plated up half an hour later, you were famished. Your bestie was still due to arrive thanks to being stuck in traffic both on the way home from work and also after leaving the house. Other mutual friends who you were familiar enough with to interact with but not enough to really talk to are here too.

Bottles of wine and water are on the table along with small baskets of bread and butter which are snatched up by those sitting around you. Several people are still due to arrive, so the amount of empty spaces isn’t bothering you too much, though you do reserve the one next to you for her.

You’re cutting open a bread roll after smushing the butter into a spreadable consistency when your phone beeps and a i’m 5 mins away x text comes through and not for the first time this evening, you sigh a sigh of relief.

You’re in the middle of the main course and half a glass of wine down as your bestie is telling you the latest drama from her office when voices in the hallway gets your attention and the voice that once made your stomach flip is now the reason for it dropping. Your head snaps to the head of the table at the opposite end to you and your eyes meet Kurt’s as the voice continues to speak with someone else.

What is he doing here? You mouth a little too aggressively as panic begins to swirl in your stomach. Her fingers touch your arm to try and silently calm you but the more you think about it, the more you feed the dread.

He isn’t supposed to be, is mouthed aggressively back. At least he’s met your energy.

“It’s good to see you again,” comes his voice as he finally steps into the room. “Sorry I’m late.” He says as he finally addresses the room.

The empty space opposite and one seat over now feels as though it’s mocking you. Though it’s not dressed for someone to sit in, you feel as though you should have known this was coming.

“I’ll get you a plate.” Kurt is on his feet faster than you’d have liked him to be but you understand he cannot treat Rúben with disrespect purely because of you nor would you want him to. He gives your shoulder a squeeze as he passes and it’s only in that moment where you feel just how tense your muscles are.

You can hear your breathing coming out in shaky exhales but rather than looking around the table to see what other dinner guests are thinking. You don’t want to look up at the man who you’d held out your heart to. Sure, you’ve seen Rúben around, but not in such an intimate capacity like this. You’ve never had to sit opposite him and felt as though you’ve had to exchange pleasantries. You could, of course, ask to switch seats but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he was getting to you.

When you lift your cutlery to begin to eat again, you note that your hands are shaking. You’d rather take a drink but now he’s here, you want as much of a clear mind as you can possibly have. He clouds your judgement far more than any alcohol ever could and he’s stayed in your system longer than any drugs ever would.

Plate to mouth. Mouth to plate. Plate to mouth. You continue until you can’t think anymore.You ignore the sound of a chair being moved and pushed back under, a plateful of food being put down and cutlery clinking together. Talk still flows around the table but it sounds as though you’re listening from under water. Even now with impaired sound, it’s clear it’s become very strained since he came in.

Questions are aimed in his direction and though you try to close off your hearing, you can still hear his replies. If he’s as worried as you are about this meeting, he’s not showing it.

“Do you want this?” You ask your friend, gesturing to the glass.

“Don’t you want it? What’s wrong with it?”

“No, I don’t want it. I want something else.”

“I’m going for one,” James, who sits on the other side of you, says quietly. “I can get one for you too?”

“That’d be great.” You give a small nod and try to give a smile, though you realise in this moment it appears pained.

James was a good man, and someone who you could depend on for a light but long chat. He played the small talk game and he played it well. It wasn’t ever anything much but he gave you good reprieve when you needed it.

It’s not until he’s left the table and in turn, the room, that you remember there’s spare glasses and pitches of water with ice. Not wanting to seem rude, you leave him to get your drink, and busy yourself in pouring a cold glass of water. He returns as you’re taking tentative sips.

“Mmm,” you hum to him to acknowledge that you’ve seen him as he takes his place back at your side while you finish your sips and place the water back on the table and turn to get the drink that Jamie offers you and give a little sniff.

“You remembered.” Small movements swirl the liquid around, ensuring that it’s fully mixed but before you can place it on the table next to the water, you hear

“Might have remembered her drink but you’ve given an extra ice cube.” Your hand freezes as you listen.

“Sorry?” Jamie says. He’s not sorry, it’s more of a chance for Rúben to retract his sentence.

“She prefers two ice cubes not three. You’ve watered down her drink.”

The statement seems to hang in the air between the three of you and when you finally look up, Rúben is looking right at you.

“Thanks Jamie,” your smile is still pained but you give it anyway before taking a quick drink, followed by a deeper one seconds later. “I need some air.” you say quietly to no-one and everyone all at the same time.

Kurt doesn’t fight to keep you at the table and instead, you notice the apologetic expression on his face as you all but flee the room and don’t stop until you’re pulling open the door that leads to the garden and step out. You gulp in the air as you close your eyes and try to clear your head.

Everything had been so good up until then. You’d managed to keep your head down and was fully prepared to not only be civil with him but so sickly sweet he’d need an emergency trip to the dentist.

“Fuck him,” you hiss, letting out some of your frustration under your breath. “Fuck. Him.” You repeat and follow it with a long groan.

“I deserve that.” He says it so quickly, you barely have time to register that he’s said it at all, never mind the fact that he’s snuck up on you. Your heart pounds against your chest with such force, you can’t believe that he’s unable to hear it himself.

“You have some nerve coming out here to me.”

“With you.” he corrects.

You almost scoff at him as you turn to look at him properly for the first time since he arrived. “To me.” you stand your ground. “You decided a long time ago that you’d never step out with me.”

“That’s not fair.”

“What was that back there, Rúben? Seriously. “You watered down her drink.” you impersonate him. “You have no right to correct people on my details when you had no intention of sticking around.”

“So I can’t help?”

“I didn’t need your help. It was a drink. One that he’s made many times before and I’ve never felt the need to correct him before.”

“I just thought if he was making you one, he should make it how you like it.”

“You saw it as an unnecessary dick measuring competition.” You stare him down until he finally looks away. He doesn’t deny it and you knew he wouldn’t. Knew he couldn’t.

“I didn’t think you’d be here.” Rúben tries a different tactic.

“That’s the only reason I’m here because I didn’t think you would be.”

“The highs and lows of football.” He clicks his tongue and points to his thigh. “Felt something in my hamstring. Coach didn’t want to risk it.”

“Shouldn’t you be explaining this to your girlfriend and not me?” You hate that it slips out before you can stop it but you register the look on his face anyway.

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Maybe not yet anyway,” you mutter it under your breath and try to push past him but he blocks your way.

“What does that mean?”

“You weren’t ready for a relationship with me but you’re dating the closest possible thing you could find to what you really wanted but were too scared to go for.” And there it is. Months and months of conversations you’ve had with yourself as you’ve lay in bed and gone over everything that happened between you when you’ve had one too many drinks. All the rational, and irrational thinking had led to this moment. Finally putting out your theories to the one person who would either debunk or confirm them.

You watch as he swallows hard and looks away, focusing his attention on almost anything but you. “You still can’t admit that you wanted me more than you let on, can you?”

“What difference would it make to hear it after all this time?” There’s almost a sadness in Rúben’s voice as he realises that it’s now or never to finally get to the bottom of it all.

“Because I know I’m right about us.”

“So it’s about winning then for you,” he doesn’t word it as a question, it feels more of an accusation.

“No. It’s about needing to hear for the first time that what we had was real after months and years of you pretending that it wasn’t.”

“I never pretended.” He tries to justify his actions. “I never said that it didn’t feel real. That it was real.”

“I deserve to know that the only reason why we couldn’t have it all was because you were scared.”

His chest rises and falls as he breathes deeply, the muscle in his cheek twitches as he tries to think about what he needs to say.

“I need to know why they were good enough but I wasn’t. Why date women who look like they could be me if you didn’t want me?” Your voice cracks and you hate that your eyes well up, hot tears now pearling at your lash line, threatening to spill over. You could kick yourself for allowing your emotions to get the better of you.

“You were always good enough. Always. You knew that I wasn’t capable of giving you what you needed at the start. But I wanted to. I could see the life we could have had and I got inside my own head that I couldn’t live up to the version of me that you wanted. That you needed and that you deserved.”

“I’d have taken any version of you Rúben.”

“I know. And I didn’t want you to have one that wasn’t worth it at the time.”

“You hurt me.”

Three words that he’d known all this time, that he’d told himself enough times that he thought if he ever heard it from her, he’d be desensitised to it. But right here and now, he’s not. Hearing it slices into him in a way he couldn’t have predicted.

“I know.”

“I wish that I could get over you.” you say as the tear spills in a hot streak down your cheek and drips from your chin. Another follows and another until you’re forced to wipe them away.

“And I’m selfish enough to not want you to.”

“You’re doing a great job in trying to get me to move on though. Tell me. Where is she? At home waiting for you? Or did she have prior arrangements so she couldn’t come with you tonight?”

“She’s probably at home. Her home.” He clarifies. “Turns out the reality of me is different to the fantasy. You’ll know about that better than anyone.”

“The reality was my fantasy. The only time you ever let me down was when you left me.”

“And if I wanted a chance to make it up to you? Would you let me?”

“I don’t know if I can trust myself to let you back in.”

“I deserve that,” he gives as much of a strained smile that you’d given earlier this evening.

“This has emotionally drained me. I can’t do this tonight. I can’t. ”

“Turning up wasn’t my greatest plan, I’ll admit.”

“No. It wasn’t. But Rúben? I’d give you baby steps to try. Just not tonight.”

#Rúben Dias one shot #Rúben Dias imagine #ruben dias x reader #Rúben Dias blulrb #Rúben Dias drabble #football imagine #football one shot #footballer imagine #footballer one shot #football blurb #football fanfiction #football fanfic #football drabble

105 notes · View notes

prolix-yuy · 1 year

Note

I have never, ever asked anyone for an ask before so I don't know any of the rules for these things. For the pairing, can we ask for a pairing like Marcus Pike x Jack Daniels x Reader (cause Double Agents is a Mood™️ and a Vibe™️) or like either of those Singular x Reader.

And it's ME, so obviously I have to choose "CHAOS and order" as the topic. Chaos is my middle name after all.

Also please feel free to make this as explicit as possible. I mean, as you'd like.

If I did this wrong and I should change something let me know because like I said I've never done this before, so it is to YOU - Tumblr Crush Bestie - that I am losing my ask virginity. Seems fitting! 😉

Aynsley. Oh Aynsley. You come into my house and ask for filth? For chaos? To be as EXPLICIT AS POSSIBLE?

I am happy to provide, my dear Tumblr Crush Bestie!

Sorry it's taken so gosh-darn long, these three were taking their sweet time figuring out the threesome twister game. I hope you enjoy!

Two Truths and a Lie

Pairing: Jack "Whiskey" Daniels x F!Reader x Marcus Pike

Summary: If you said you didn't want what these two men have in store, you'd be a liar.

Word Count: 6.3k (YOU'RE WELCOME)

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, descriptions of male and female bodies, m/m dynamics, mmf dynamics, breast play, biting, oral sex (m and f receiving), handjobs, brief rimming, use of anal plug, anal sex (m receiving), face sitting, PiV sex, everyone's bisexual, aftercare, dirty talking because I'm a slut for it.

Notes: I've been teasing this for so long and it's finally arrived! And I'm embodying the 'chaos' in the request by barely editing this. Should I have? Maybe. Will I deny us any of the filth these three get into? Absolutely not. Enjoy my lovelies!

The first time you lied you didn’t even know what you were doing. Barely speaking full sentences and you pushed a boy over in the playground. He was loud, mean, and you were so full of emotions your little body had to retaliate. But when the teacher came over and asked what happened, you lied.

“He fell.”

The boy was too embarrassed to admit it was you, ushered away by the teacher. And you basked in a new feeling that would grow to be your constant companion: the elation of getting away with it.

Now, much later in life, you’d perfected lying. You lied like you breathed. Tells well hidden, truths spread like jam on burnt bread, just enough to hide the taste. You didn’t want to be punished, or caught. It wasn’t about waiting for someone to call you out. Lying was a language you spoke fluently and without equal, and was a competition with only yourself as audience.

Take tonight, for example. You’d lied to your friends that you didn’t feel well enough to go out. You’d lied to the bartender about why you were here. You’d even lied to the Uber driver, who could care less why you were coming to a swank hotel bar this late at night. But that’s three unsuspecting participants and three more tallies on the invisible scoreboard.

The truth, not that you’d ever say it, was that you were bored. Endlessly, achingly bored. If you had to listen to one more pregnancy story, or upcoming wedding plans, or theorize on whatever show everyone was watching this time, you might actually scream. So tonight you forewent the Mexican restaurant your friends love and came here.

The bar is lush in a way that makes you salivate. Burgundy velvet chairs flank dark leather Chesterfield couches, artfully arranged to create the illusion of privacy underneath the cathedral ceilings. Royal blue and black brocade wallpaper flanks you as you approach the bar, black walnut wrapped around a towering wall of liquor. The stools glint gold as you slide onto one, balancing delicately. It’s not until you put in your drink order and settle back that you see them.

Once you do, you’re not sure how they escaped your observation. Two men seated at a high top overlooking city lights, casually sipping from rocks glasses. One is clean shaven, short haired and neatly dressed. Corporate attire - a tidy suit, tie, crisp white shirt. His face is soft in the table’s candlelight, eyes crinkled in the corners enough to know he enjoys himself without reservation.

The other man holds some of the same features - large hands swirling alcohol in his tumbler, dark hair and eyes, a broad build - but the similarities end with the confidence he’s exuding. His outfit is more cowboy chic, dark jeans and a gray suit jacket over a light pink shirt with a peek of suspenders under the lapel. His boots hook over a stool rung, tilted back as his companion leans forward. The smirk painting his face paired with his teasing eyes quirks a smile of your own. Definitely cocksure, and possibly for good reason if those tight jeans were anything to go by.

Then the cowboy reaches across the table and pinches the other man’s chin between his thick fingers, a softer look gracing his face. The other man flushes a light pink, eyes casting down as his smile turns bashful.

Suddenly you’re too hot, snapping your gaze back to your drink.

Not for you.

Not that you’d assumed either of them would turn their attention your way. They were both your type in a room with surprisingly few options, but the night is young, and your drink has barely been touched. You lift it to your lips for a small sip, letting the liquor burn in the way good sex can light you aflame (an experience you’d been low on lately) when a voice murmurs at your shoulder.

“Drinking alone?”

The blushing companion is now at your elbow, respectful but close enough that it makes your skin tingle. He leans on the bar, nodding once to the bartender with a smile before redirecting his attention back to your purposefully neutral expression.

“For now,” you reply cryptically, taking a sip of your drink as you peek at him over the rim. His smile widens, a glint of teeth between soft, kissable lips. Shouldn’t have been fantasizing about a conquest tonight, now you’re too keyed in to a man who’s out of your league in several ways.

“Would you like some company while you wait? My partner and I have a table,” he says as two glasses slide into his grasp. You shrug.

“My friends will be here soon.”

Liar.

“Of course. One drink.”

“Only one.”

Liar.

“As the lady wishes.”

One drink turns into two, your wits still about you but your attention pleasingly bewitched by the couple. Marcus, the one who approached, is an FBI agent specializing in art crimes, which you unabashedly question him about while the cowboy smirks in your periphery.

“You can tell the difference between a fake and an original on sight?”

Marcus chuckles into the rim of his glass, tongue peeking out to stop an errant drop.

“Only the very bad ones. The good ones need analysis, imaging, carbon dating. But it’s amazing to see how far someone will go.”

His knee knocks into yours and remains there.

The cowboy’s name is Jack Daniels, which makes you scoff until he raises an eyebrow at you. He even works at a distillery, though he was a field agent in a past life. That’s how he and Marcus met, the mention exchanging fondness that makes you gaze into your own drink for distraction. He orders a round of Statesman as proof of his fine taste, and you have to agree it’s much better than the whiskey most men offer you as though you know nothing of liquor.

He lifts his boot to catch on the low rung of your stool, opening the span of his thighs to you. If you didn’t know better you would think these two were…

“We have a question for you, darlin,” Jack says when the drinks run dry, pinning you with a smirk. You straighten your spine, chin lifted to pre-empt your refusal.

You didn’t want to see what these men might offer.

Liar.

“Marcus saw you come in and thought you were about the prettiest thing he’d laid eyes on. But I’m a little more discerning. I like women to be smarter than me.” You roll your eyes but he keeps on running that smooth Southern drawl. “Which you are. Clearly. So I’m gonna ask you this for the both of us, and it only goes for the both of us. Package deal.”

Your eyes dart between Jack and Marcus, observing their drastically different postures. Marcus is nervous, hands folded tightly in front of him, eyes locked on them as he worries at his lower lip. Jack, on the other hand, is a man negotiating a deal and has all the confidence in the world, though he’s tuned in to Marcus’ discomfort. You wonder briefly if this is how they work best, Jack taking the lead. The thought blares heat across your chest.

“What would you like to ask?” you reply cooly, even though your heart hammers so loud you’re sure they can hear it. It’s under control until Jack’s eyes flick down to your hand worrying at your glass. His gaze flits up - caught.

“We’d like to invite you up to our room,” Jack says simply, leaning back in his seat. Marcus finally tears his eyes from his hands and watches for your reaction. You smirk at them both.

“For a nightcap?” you ask innocently, but the dark humor that spreads over Jack’s face shakes your resolve.

“No, darlin, we’d like to invite you into our bed. If that’s favorable to you, of course,” Jack says, the game ping-ponging between you as Marcus watches.

“I assumed I wasn’t your type,” you stall, interrogating yourself about the offer. Did you want to let them lead you away from here?

You’re definitely not bored anymore. If anything you’re aching at the thought.

“You are,” Marcus interjects, pulling your attention from Jack’s intense stare. His face is open, eager, kind. He seems like the kind of man who wears soft sweaters and asks you how your day was and actually listens. What a pair they make.

“I’d like to have an idea of what I’m getting myself into before agreeing to anything,” you say, but your voice is getting shakier by the minute. Marcus slides his hand across the table, fingertips lightly grazing the back of your hand. It’s grounding, comforting.

Electric.

“Safety for everyone, of course. Protection all around,” Jack says, speaking in a low voice that urges you to lean forward. It gives him the opportunity to graze his fingers along your thigh in a featherlight touch that burns you with arousal. “Marcus likes it when I take charge, but you’re our guest so whatever your comfort level is, we’ll respect. If you’d like to take a break or end it at any time, we stop.”

Then Jack leans in and destroys the final barriers between you and your decision.

“We both like to eat pussy, and will make you cum several times before fucking you. Marcus likes to be inside while I fuck him, but I’d like to feel you squeeze around me too. I won’t leave marks if you ask, but I like to use my mouth, and my teeth. Marcus wants to kiss you, often, and very thoroughly. He might be quiet now, but he’s vocal as hell when you get him riled up. I’m likely to never shut up unless my mouth’s busy.”

Your breath is coming in quick pants now, Marcus’ fingers sliding along the back of your hand to open your fist and slip inside. Jack’s heavy hand on your thigh feels like all that’s keeping you held to the earth. Sensing your hesitation, Marcus leans in and breathes into your ear.

“Would you like that, sweetheart?”

You don’t hear your agreement over the rushing in your ears, but their twin smiles of satisfaction confirm it.

Staring into the mirror and psyching yourself up to leave the bathroom, you adjust your lingerie for the eighth time. Mauve lace clings to your breasts, your hips, just opaque enough to be pretty instead of lewd. In this moment you wish it was more exciting, more daring for these men who offered you a spot in their bed. How tame you must seem after all the bravado you showed in the bar.

You’re not ready for this.

Liar.

Gathering up your last bit of courage, you saunter into the hotel bedroom. You’d left Jack and Marcus there fully clothed, knowing smiles and the beginnings of flirty touches the last thing you’d seen. Now, you’re treated to a much more mouthwatering sight.

Jack is seated on the edge of the bed, jacket discarded and suspenders loose by his thighs. His shirt is messy and untucked, one final button around his stomach holding on for dear life after all the others abandoned their posts. His pants are open, and as you come to a stop you’re treated to Marcus’ deep groan as he swallows Jack’s cock to the base. His throat works as Jack tips his head back and sighs, hips gyrating a fraction against Marcus’ eager mouth.

Fuck, it’s hot and drives a spike of arousal straight to your cunt. Marcus’ strong back, bare and rippling across Jack’s lap, begs for your fingers to dig into his meaty shoulders. You catch him palming at his crotch, big brown eyes opening to look up at Jack. He’s rewarded with thick fingers carding through his short brown hair, pulling back to breathe heavily on the tip of Jack’s cock before descending again.

“Gorgeous, isn’t he?” Jack rasps when you realize you’ve been staring too long. His hand extends to you, and for a moment you think it’s better to leave them to it. They clearly have history, and chemistry. You don’t belong here.

Liar.

You slide your hand into Jack’s, letting him lead you to sit beside him. Sinking into his side, he gives you the perfect view to look down at Marcus’ thorough deep-throating. His eyes drag up, and the hand gripping Jack’s thigh now comes to rest on yours. He’s firm but gentle, kneading the flesh there.

“I’d like to kiss you, sweetheart,” Jack whispers into the shell of your ear, dragging his lips just to your neck to press a featherlight kiss. You’re hesitant, but he lets you breathe against his mouth before leaning forward just enough to press your lips together. The wet mouth noises Marcus is choking out below you are a strange soundtrack to the sweetness of Jack’s kiss. He plies you with a few more, fuller, more forceful, before dragging his tongue over the seam of your lips. You part eagerly for him, meeting his full stroke with your quicker tongue. Jack groans into your mouth, the beginning of a smile curling against the corner of your lips.

“Now him,” he says, leaning back and guiding your head down to Marcus. He slips off Jack’s wet cock, jutting thick and proud, and rises on his knees to take your head in his hands. There’s less hesitation here; you melt fully into Marcus’ kiss. Jack was right, Marcus kisses thoroughly, patiently, diving deep before pulling back to let you breathe. It builds a fire under your skin, your nails digging into his shoulders.

Distantly you feel Jack’s thick fingers unclasp your bra, then his hands - callused in places that made you wonder if he was a real cowboy once - guide you to lay back on the bed. You part from Marcus with a small sigh, but Jack follows you down, the scrape of his mustache on your throat as he slips his thumb over your kiss-swollen lips. Settling on your back, Marcus’ hands slide under your knees and soon the smooth expanse of his back surges under your calves.

“Look at this,” Marcus hums, stroking down your thighs. Jack hums in agreement as he slips your bra off, the cool air tightening your nipples. “Anything you don’t like, sweetheart?” Jack’s mouth distracts you as he blows across the swell of your breast, making your back arch at the sensation.

“No teeth,” you say, finally hazarding a look down your body at the men driving you to madness. Jack looks visibly disappointed, which makes you tug at his well-coiffed locks. “For him, not you.” Marcus breaks into a smile and honest-to-goodness chuckles between your legs, and Jack winks up at you before a slip of pink tongue wraps around your nipple. Any further instruction is wiped from your mind as you arch into the clever heat of his mouth, paired with the squeeze of his other hand around your neglected breast. His teeth graze your nipple, hips rolling involuntarily before getting pressed firmly into the bed.

“Can’t wait to taste this,” Marcus murmurs, and two fingers slide underneath the gusset of your panties, knuckles dragging through your folds. He leaves open-mouthed kisses below your bellybutton, dragging his nose down to smell you through the thin lace. You want so desperately to focus but so many hands pulling you apart so effortlessly has your eyes rolling up into your head and your body writhing.

Finally, Marcus licks a wide path along your lacy slit as Jack rolls your nipple between his fingers and you keen out a desperate moan.

“Oh, baby, sounds like someone needs you to make her cum,” Jack teases into your neck, sliding his hand down and into your panties to tease your aching clit. Marcus is still licking along the lace, pressing his tongue at your entrance just enough that their touches light up every nerve carrying pleasure to your lust-soaked brain.

“Let me take these off you and get you all over my face,” Marcus purrs, lifting your hips to drag the last scrap of clothing off your body. They’re both still half-clothed and looking at you like a goddess draped across the bed, and it almost makes you balk.

Liar. It makes you even more excited.

Jack removes his fingers, sucking them into his mouth with a low hum while Marcus noses your inner thigh. You can’t stop your legs from trembling, but Marcus’ firm grip steadies you as he finally licks a slow path through your folds.

“Oh fuck,” you gasp, arching into the pillows as Jack presses your hips back on the bed.

“He’s good, ain’t he? Wicked tongue on him, and I swear he’s half fish, never needs to come up for air,” Jack teases, pressing his body against your side and stroking through Marcus’ short hair. He nips at your earlobe as Marcus begins lapping rhythmically at your entrance, his nose firm on your clit and his jaw bobbing against you. The waves of his tongue, the jolt of that hawkish nose, the dark pride simmering in his eyes as he watches you, all burn under your skin. Your orgasm is fast approaching, nipples tight and aching. Sliding your thumb over one, you coax the honey-sweet ache of arousal out against Marcus’ tongue. Jack notices and joins you, stroking his rougher ones over the sensitive buds. His cock ruts lazily against your hip, and you slide your hand around him to pump him in time with your rolling hips.

“Oh, sweetheart, you’re so good,” he praises, sinking his teeth into the top of your breast just hard enough that prickles of pain pull you away from your heady arousal. It slams back into you the moment he releases the sensitive flesh, laving his tongue over the indents his teeth left behind.

“C’mon baby, that’s it, you’re so close,” Marcus encourages between your legs, lips barely leaving before doubling down. His whole head rocks against your cunt, long licks and drags of his lips and nose and chin through your messy sex. He must be coated in you, thick and tangy across his clean-shaven face. If Jack did the same, he’d carry you in that perfectly groomed mustache.

That image, Jack with his mustache dripping with your release, tightens your core as Marcus urges your hips to roll against him, chasing your orgasm frantically as he growls into your cunt.

“Give it to me, baby, cum on my face, I know you have it right there for me, fucking give it to me. Cum on me. Cum on me now,” he orders, and with Jack’s whispered “He’s been so good, cum for him sweetheart,” you’re tightening around Marcus’ head and shaking through a fucking full-body orgasm. Faintly you hear Marcus chanting, “Yes, yes, that’s it baby, that’s it,” and Jack purring a diatribe of, “Good girl, you’re cumming so good for us, look at that, fucking gorgeous.” The room fades around the edges, the boys all you can focus on. Marcus’ eyes are shining with triumph, wiping his face as he beams up between your legs. Jack hovers over you, pride and sinful promise in his smile.

“That was a very good one, Marcus. Gonna give me a run for my money,” he says, stroking your cheek as you try to come back to the real world from your sky-high journey. The comforting warmth at your side fades as Jack sits up on the bed, tugging Marcus by his hair. Blearily you watch them kiss, tongues peeking out from their pressed lips as Jack tastes you on Marcus. He reaches down and deftly unbuttons Marcus’ pants, shoving everything down to reveal his weeping cock. Jack’s palms it, nodding to Marcus who leans over just enough to spit on his own cock before Jack gives him a few slow, firm strokes. You can tell how much Marcus is affected, mouth dropping into an O as his eyes drifting shut. Jack indulges him a few passes more before pulling a condom out of his pocket.

“Fill her up, pretty boy, she’s been so patient.”

You prop yourself up on shaky elbows as Marcus rolls the condom on, hazy gaze kindling the remains of your orgasm into a new possibility. He slots his hips between your thighs, crawling up your body to kiss you with the remains of your taste on his tongue. Jack stole most of it, but you can still relish in your tang.

“I want to fuck you, baby, can I? I’ll stretch you out good first,” he asks against your lips, the head of his cock resting just on your mound. He fists it and draws circles on your clit with the tip, your spine pulling tight up under him.

“Yes, Marcus, want you inside me,” you gasp, but before he fits his perfect cock inside he pumps two gloriously thick fingers into your cunt, stroking at your velvet soaked walls before curling them wickedly.

“So tight. Fuck, Jack, you’re gonna love this,” Marcus husks, scissoring his fingers and swirling his thumb over your sensitive clit.

“Want to show her what you’ve been hiding, handsome?” Jack asks innocently, but you see goosebumps raise along Marcus’ arms and shoulders when the cowboy nips at his ear, winking at you. “Reach back here, darlin’, and feel,” Jack instructs as you follow the path of his hand around Marcus’ hip. He guides you to the smooth base of the plug in Marcus’ ass, making him shudder when you press your fingers against it.

“He’s been waiting all night for this, would you let me fuck him while he fucks you?” Jack asks. You trace a finger around Marcus’ stretched hole and he drops his head to your shoulder with a choked groan.

“You want that, Marcus? Want to fill me while Jack fills you?” His stuttering breath warms your neck as he nods. Reaching back, you prop yourself up with a couple pillows so you can better watch, your hands cupping Marcus’ face as Jack slowly works the plug out of him. When his mouth drops open you stroke your thumb along his bottom lip, pulling his attention from any discomfort back to you. Marcus empties out a sigh when Jack pulls the sensible black plug from him and places it on the bedside table. He returns with a slim bottle of lube that he dribbles onto his fingers.

“Now Marcus, I want you to put the tip in her and get yourself good and hard while I slide into your pert little ass. Once I’m in and you’re settled I’ll set the pace. Don’t want you hurting yourself.” The gentle instruction warms your skin as Jack smooths his hands over Marcus’ back and sides. He nods and you stroke your fingers through his hair reassuringly.

“You’re gonna feel so good inside me,” you say, circling your hips against his cock as he fists himself again.

“You’re beautiful,” Marcus whispers, and as he wedges just the tip of his thick cock inside you he presses open-mouthed kisses to your neck and shoulder. The shallow stretch makes your toes curl, one of Jack’s hands massaging your calf as his mouth smacks against Marcus’ spine.

“Ready?” he asks one last time.

“Yes, Jack, please…”

The litany of moans and gasps Marcus litters onto your skin lights your arousal further aflame as Jack curses and pushes in. You’re enraptured by the concentration on his face, the tick of his jaw and swipes of his tongue over his lower lip as he thrusts shallowly into Marcus’ tight channel. You can feel every jolt in your cunt when he presses Marcus just a little further forward, burying himself just a little deeper inside you. It’s slow as cold molasses and driving Marcus to bliss. When he begins backing up against Jack you stroke his back, and Jack’s larger hand covers yours.

“Fuck, feel so full,” Marcus manages to say, and Jack leans over to kiss along his shoulders. Your mouth is already at the juncture of his neck, and Jack meets your lips with his own. Marcus turns his head enough to kiss you behind your ear, and to catch the hinge of Jack’s sharp jaw with a scrape of teeth.

“Okay sweethearts, I’m gonna fuck you now. Slow to start. Get our rhythm.” Jack then pulls back and thrusts forward hard enough to bury the rest of Marcus’ length inside you.

“Oh fuck,” you gasp, Marcus already being guided back out before Jack fucks him back into you. “Oh holy shit, ohhhh fuck, yes, please, oh fuck it’s so good,” you moan brokenly, Marcus cupping your cheek and pressing his mouth to yours. You open for him, his tongue plunging into you as he pounds your cunt over and over again. The wet slaps are offset by the slick squelches of Jack’s cock fucking into Marcus, timing his thrusts just right to let you both feel every ridge and vein inside and around you.

“Fuck, you both are so fucking hot,” Jack grits out, one hand gripping your hip, the other Marcus’, as he set a faster pace. Marcus drops to his elbows and rolls his hips harder, snapping into you and back onto Jack. The quiet moans he was hiding before erupt into full-throated shouts, which Jack muffles by shoving his fingers into Marcus’ mouth. He drools around them, and when his glazed eyes meet yours you lick the back of Jack’s knuckles and over Marcus’ lips.

“Filthy girl, knew you were,” Jack pants. “You close, handsome?”

Marcus nods frantically, eyebrows pinching and fisting the sheets as he speeds up from Jack’s rhythm to chase his orgasm. Jack chuckles before folding over you both, crushing Marcus to your chest.

“I’ve got you, baby boy.” With that Jack pounds into you both, Marcus buried so deep you can feel Jack’s thrusts nudge him against your g-spot. You grip their hair, Jack’s eyes locking with yours as he growls through each thrust.

“Call him a good boy, sweetheart.”

“Fuck, Marcus, you’re so good for me, feel so good inside. Cum for me like a good boy, Marcus.”

That’s all it takes, and Marcus is howling into your neck as Jack grinds deep. His cock pulses heavily inside you, the force of his orgasm shivering through his limbs as they lock and release. Finally he lets go, slumping his full weight onto your chest. Jack kisses the back of his neck, fingers stroking down his arms and soothing him through the aftershocks.

“You’ve got a way with him, darlin’, he rarely cums that hard,” Jack coos, sliding his arms around Marcus to guide him off. Rolling him to his back, Jack peppers Marcus’ face with soft kisses as he weakly throws an arm around Jack’s back. His other hand searches for yours, twining your fingers together as he blinks sleepily between you both.

“Shit, that was amazing,” he croaks, sending Jack to the bathroom for a glass of water and to dispose of the condoms. “C’mere, wanna hold you,” he adds, tugging you to curl up against his side. His hands roam your back, nose pressed against your forehead as his rapid heartbeat begins to slow. It’s oddly romantic, happy to give and receive this moment of comfort. But you’re sure it’s the end of the night, and you’ll be fine going back home soon.

Liar.

“Now darlin’, as good of a time as it looks like you were having, I don’t think you came,” Jack says once Marcus has had a good long drink and settled back into the pillows.

“I had plenty of fun,” you say lazily, stroking Marcus’ chest as it rises and falls. Jack tuts and shakes his head, moving to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Told you I wanted to eat your pussy too. Come sit on my face and let me give you another. Then, if you’re not too tired out, I’ll have you sit on my cock too.”

Heat races over your body, and Marcus unwinds you from his arms.

“Go on, gorgeous, Jack’s tongue is a treat you should never turn down,” he teases. “I’ll be along as soon as I catch my breath.”

Sitting up, you scoot closer to Jack as a strange nervousness settles in. Marcus is so open and easy to read, while Jack’s expressions always seem veiled behind a layer of showmanship and bravado. You find yourself worrying that you won’t be enough for him, for what he wants.

“What’s going through that pretty head of yours?” Jack interrupts your racing thoughts as he strokes his palm up your thigh. You shake your head, forcing a smile on.

“Nothing,” you say, your voice catching in your throat. Jack chews on his lower lip for a moment, then wraps his arms around your waist and guides you onto his lap. Straddling him, you hover as he pets your hips, smooths your back, and noses your neck with a gentle kiss along your collarbone.

“If it’s nerves, honey, then know that I have been looking forward to tasting, and fucking you all night. I want your tits in my mouth, your pussy, your tongue. I want to devour you, you’re so delicious.” He guides your hips down to press against his cock, hard and hot as he slips the soft skin against your wet folds. “You cannot possibly disappoint me, I could cum from your voice alone.”

“Jack…” you breathe, and he leans back, pulling you along with him. Once flat on his back he guides your nipple into his mouth, humming indulgently as he teases the bud with his fast tongue and harsh sucks. You arch into his mouth, the length of his cock grinding against your clit. Switching to the other one, he nips lightly and chuckles when you jolt against him. His large hands paw at your ass, spreading your cheeks and kneading at the supple flesh. He cracks his hand against one with a sharp slap, soothing it with a stroke after. You’re dripping on him now, grinding along his length.

“Perfect, sweetheart, now climb up and put that hot little pussy on my face,” he orders, and all self-consciousness drips away as you climb up his body. Before you settle around his shoulders he taps your hip and guides you to swing around so you’re facing his neglected cock, hovering over his greedy mouth.

“Want your hand around my cock while I eat you out,” he says before pulling you down on his face.

No matter the thorough fucking you just endured, Jack’s thick tongue sends a shudder up your spine, needing to grab his wrists. He hums into your folds, faster flicks than Marcus against your clit.

“I’m gonna drink you down, darlin’,” he purrs into your cunt, canting your hips so he can better seal his pouty lips around your clit. Falling forward, you loosely stroke Jack’s aching cock, throbbing with need after being denied his orgasm. Letting a dribble of spit drip onto his length, you slick him up to take a tighter grip. When your fingers glance over the ridge of his head his stomach tightens, hips rocking up to meet your strokes.

“Your cock is gorgeous, Jack,” you praise, leaning down to place a soft kiss on the tip. The groan he lets out vibrates against your sex, eliciting your own pleasured sigh as he slips his tongue inside you.

“He’s very good at using it,” Marcus says just next to your shoulder, sliding off the bed to kneel between Jack’s knees. He replaces your hand on Jack’s cock, urging you to sit back up on Jack’s face. He worships your breasts with soft sucks and nibbles, working you both up higher and higher. You can feel Jack’s movements getting sloppier, distracted gasps bursting between your legs when he takes a moment to bask in his own pleasure. You weave your hands into Marcus’ hair, scratching along his scalp as he kisses his way up your neck and back to your waiting mouth.

“Mmm, sweetheart he’s not gonna last much longer, and I know he wants to cum in you too. Let me wrap him up and then you can fuck his cock.” Marcus takes a moment to tear open a condom as you shuffle down Jack’s body. His mouth leaves you with a parting lick to your back entrance, the ticklish sensation making you giggle and scratch your nails down his flexing stomach. When you’re hovering over his cock, Marcus’ hand on the base guiding Jack in, he sits up behind you.

“Most beautiful thing I’ll ever get to experience,” Jack murmurs, plastering his chest to your back and wrapping his arms around you. He guides you down as Marcus steadies him in, filling you so differently but so completely.

“Fuck, Jack, you feel amazing,” you croon, head thrown back against his shoulder. Marcus lifts up on his knees to kiss Jack, clever fingers petting at your clit as you lift up just enough to let Jack feel the drag of your tight cunt, then back down to his base to elicit a wanton groan.

“Darlin’, you feel like heaven. Don’t know how Marcus didn’t bust immediately.” Marcus nips his Adam’s apple and switches to mouthing at your throat, both of their lips dancing along the expanse of your sweat-slicked skin. Sandwiched between them, the slide of their bodies against yours is addictive, intoxicating, endless in the pleasure it brings. Your cunt clenches around Jack, and he chuckles darkly in your ear before snapping his hips up into you.

“There’s my good girl, so tight around me. I’m gonna fuck you as hard and long as I can, but fuck me if you don’t feel like the best thing I’ve ever put my cock in.” Jack grabs the back of Marcus’ head and pulls him back to meet eyes. “Lick her clit, pretty boy.”

You didn’t think your arousal could climb any higher, but looking down to see Jack’s length sliding in and out of you paired with Marcus sinking down to lick a stripe from the base of Jack’s cock to your clit almost kills you. Marcus’ boyish smile would be your gravestone if you didn’t remember to breathe.

“Holy fuck,” you choke out as he lays out his thick pink tongue to stroke over and over along your joined bodies.

“Damn right, you’re doing so good for us Marcus,” Jack grits out, pulling you down on his fat cock so you don’t bounce away from Marcus’ talented tongue.

“Could do better,” Marcus says thoughtfully, reaching for the bottle of lube. Slicking up his fingers, he slides his hand down to tease Jack’s rim.

“Fuck, baby, you know how I like that,” Jack groans, bringing a wicked smile to Marcus’ face. Kissing your mound, Jack tenses hard under you with a broken gasp. “Fuckfuckfuckfuck, yes baby, that’s fucking perfect, you keep your fingers right there while I cum in her. Just like that, sweet boy.”

Leaning down you grab Marcus by the jaw and devour him, teeth clacking briefly as you fill his mouth with your tongue. He whimpers below you before you part, lips spit-slicked and slacked.

“Gonna cum, sweetheart, Marcus you better…” Jack threatens but Marcus is already latching his mouth onto your clit, sucking hard and fast while his fingers flex inside Jack. The relentless grind against your g-spot, the ruthless pressure on your clit, the overwhelming ache that can’t build anymore before it needs to go somewhere washes over you, and you cum with a wail on these two gorgeous men. Jack follows as your walls flutter around him, with a litany of, “That’s it baby, your pussy’s so fucking good, I’m…oh shit, I’m cumming, M-Marcus baby don’t stop, don’t you fucking stop, oh shiiiiii…” You faintly wonder if Marcus came again before a spurt of hot cum against your calf answers your question.

The silence that follows, filled with gasps and panting and weak hands on skin, is the moment you dread. It’s the last moment before the peace and quiet in your mind fades, urging you to gather up your clothes and go before you say something or do something that will ruin this. But with Marcus wrapping his arms around you, resting his head on your shoulder, and Jack pressed against your back, you have no place to go.

“Thank you, darlin’, that was the most fun I’ve had in a long time, wouldn’t you agree?” Jack says, pressing a line of kisses from behind your ear to the curve of your shoulder. Marcus leans back and thumbs your chin, tired eyes and a loose smile.

“Definitely. Can we take care of you now, sweetheart?”

Your eyebrows must have pulled up into a frown, because Marcus chuckles just a little and cradles your head.

“What, you thought we’d fuck you and make you leave?” he teases, and you have to school your face carefully. You didn’t expect them to be this caring, or kind.

Liar.

Then you didn’t expect them to want more than your body once they were through.

Liar.

Then what did you expect?

Marcus thankfully speaks, similar to that that soothing way Jack enticed you here.

“Well then, I’m going to take you into the shower to clean you up, and Jack’s gonna make the bed and join us after. Once we’re clean and hydrated, I’m going to put on The Thin Man and we’re going to get into bed together. If you’re not comfortable spending the night, I understand. But I - we - want you to. Not just because tomorrow morning I want to wake you up with both of our heads between your legs.” Jack slides out of you and holds you in his arms, nuzzling into the back of your neck.

“I don’t…” you try to say, both men waiting patiently. “I didn’t expect this. I don’t know what to do now.”

Liar.

You know exactly what to do.

Stay.

Marcus’ lopsided smile and Jack’s pressed into your skin are promises you never asked for, but would gladly accept.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. We’ve got you.”

END

#jack whiskey daniels x reader x marcus pike #marcus pike x reader x jack whiskey daniels #jack whiskey daniels x reader #jack daniels x female reader #jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey x reader #whiskey x reader #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x reader #prolix fics

374 notes · View notes

in-silks-and-flesh-and-leather · 8 months

Text

Birthday Week Vignettes

As a little gift for my bestie and worstie, for her birthday week, I’ve written a selection of fun little vignettes (stretching the terms fun, little and vignette to mean several thousand words of something gory or fucked up).

It has been the greatest and most treasured experience I’ve had on here getting to know you. From the hilarious shit talking, to expanding my horizons in terms of what I read and write, and giving each other constant new ideas and support, I am so grateful for all the downsides of existing in an online space as it’s meant making a wonderful, cherished friend. Happy birthday and may we enjoy your presence in our lives and this garbage fire for a long, long time to come! 😍😍❤️❤️😈😈 @safarigirlsp

Day 1; assassin!Mills x RC

Summary: The Museum needs two operatives to pose as a married couple and go into a chateau full of depraved people letting loose and acting out their fantasies in an Eyes wide shut-type party. That old chestnut.

A/N: I’m a sucker for going undercover as a couple, in every iteration of that trope, and undercover at a sex party is an especially fun variation. This little episode didn’t fit into my main assassin!Mills story, but it was too interesting to throw out completely, so this seems like the best way to share it. If you like the premise, I’m happy to write a conclusion for it.

CW: mentions of wlw, mlm, group sex, fetishes, voyeurism, dubcon, murder, drugs, alcohol, sex work

WC: ~5.5k

Cipher and Gage picked up their small leather bags soon after they landed, exiting the airport hand in hand. Cipher’s steel toe boots thumped loudly on the tiles, his long leather coat rustling with every casual move of his tall, broad frame. Gage sized him up out of the corner of her black-rimmed eye, appreciating the sexy, disheveled swoop of his sandy hair, the frosty glint of his blue eyes, his sharp jawline dusted with a few days’ growth of beard. Her eyes wandered lower, to the tight black tank top that peeked out from his unbuttoned white shirt, the studded belt drawn tight around his narrow hips, and the tightly coiled muscles of his legs working under his equally tight pants. She couldn’t wait to get her hands on him in the car. Their quick encounter in the airplane toilet was too short for her appetite.

She walked briskly in her six inch shiny leather boots, barely reaching his shoulder despite the added height, feeling the chill in the airport as a gust blew under her scandalously short skirt. A man walking past them balked at what the blown up material revealed and she giggled to herself. Cipher squeezed her hand tighter and walked even faster in retaliation, leaving her to practically run to catch up with him. They barely jumped into the stretch limousine parked and waiting to take them to the rendezvous point that Rostov decided on when Cipher pulled her roughly onto his lap and glared, squeezing his large hand painfully around her thigh until she squirmed and pouted, removing her round Windsor sunglasses and giving him a plaintive look, all innocence and invitation. She had often remarked that it didn’t serve him any good to get all worked up over other men ogling her like that; if he wanted an attractive and flirty wife like her, then there were consequences to deal with.

They had enough time to redress and clean up as well as could be managed on a backseat when the limousine pulled up on Museum property. The partition rolled down and an Acquisitions operative pointed the barrel of a gun at the pair.

The heavy metal door creaked and moaned as it was pushed open for Adriane. She entered the small circular cell, windowless and bleached by harsh white halogen lights, where Cipher and Gage sat bound and gagged.

Without gracing either with eye contact, Adriane walked briskly, sweeping an elegant circle around the small cell, her heels clacking an ominous rhythm on the concrete floor. “In a moment, you will be separated. You will never see each other again,” she spoke the chilling words quietly and emotionlessly, as though to herself, as she circled the young pair like a crow awaiting carrion to feast on. “Whoever talks first will go free. The other will not leave this place alive.” She tossed the last words over her shoulder as she slipped like a shadow out the door and it closed heavily behind her.

She was not negotiating. She was not trying to entice them with anything only to pull the rug out from under them, as other people they had dealt with in the past had. The pair understood the danger they were in as they locked eyes, determined to leave this place together, and alive.

30 minutes, my office. A, the letters scrolled across the beeper in your hand.

When you arrived, with a minute to spare, you were feeling pretty smug about yourself that you managed not to be late, to say nothing of the fact you were chosen as the operative to be entrusted with this last minute, highly sensitive task.

Adriane’s office looked like the wardrobe department of some grungy photo shoot, with distressed denim, faux leather, fishnets and studs galore. Racks and racks of clothing were hurriedly rolled in, no doubt for the purpose of outfitting for this impromptu exhibition you were going on.

“Our guests have a meeting with their prospective employer this evening. We intercepted the coordinates Rostov provided and took Cipher and Gage on a detour here,” Adriane informed as Mills strode out from behind a rack with an armful of clothes. You looked from him to Adriane, wondering if this was some test and her omitting he would be there was supposed to catch you by surprise. Satisfied you did not betray your heart jumping into your throat, you diverted your attention to the racks of female clothing surrounding you.

“Won’t he know we’re not them? You know, when he looks at us?” you asked too snarkily for someone who knew Adriane wouldn’t waste anyone’s time if this was a real concern.

“Rostov doesn’t know what they look like. Both he and our guests are too discreet in their dealings to allow something like that. And the private party you are attending is designed to ensure privacy. At least where your faces are concerned.”

You felt a nervous knot tie in your gut, thinking ahead at what the night would more than likely demand of you. “And their stupid nicknames?” you asked, forcibly casual, as you pressed a red plaid skirt to your hips, wondering if it would even cover half your ass.

“For the same reason. They are decently intelligent, cautious people in their business dealings, even if their behavior otherwise is questionable. Under different circumstances, they might have been potential operatives for the Museum. As it stands, their use is limited to a single outing.”

You followed Adriane to her laptop computer, as thick as a briefcase, sitting in front of her leather chair, with a video paused. Scattered on the desk were photos of Cipher and Gage, taken over the last few weeks, as evidenced by the changes in the color and style of their hair. They were photographed several times in rather compromising positions, not that they seemed to mind. Gage was always smiling brightly when her hand was shoved possessively in Cipher’s back pocket, and he was not shy about embracing her in a town square and kissing her with what you personally deemed to be an excess of tongue, with both his hands on her ass, peeking out of another too-short skirt. Frenzied moaning and the squeak of leather grabbed your attention and you looked up at the video Adriane played.

“This was just over an hour ago, in the back of the car we sent for them,” she informed, looking unimpressedly at the screen.

The parallels between you and Julian were not lost on you. Two people, outrageously in love, killing for a living. Except the pair rutting wildly in a limo were free to be out in the open, not concealing anything from anyone, while you could only look at Julian askance and steal brief moments when you were sure no one was looking, which was hardly ever.

“The girl has great stamina,” you quipped, averting your eyes discreetly. From their copious, almost defiant public displays of affection, you didn’t imagine either would be bothered to know a few people had watched some blurry, low resolution footage of their intercourse, but the aversion was for your sake, not letting the Museum make a voyeur out of you. It was enough they made you a ghost and a killer.

“You need to become Cipher and Gage for the duration of this Exhibition,” Adriane underscored. “They are ruthless, reckless, and passionate. Their reputation precedes them in Rostov’s inner circle.”

“We understand,” Mills assured, seeming to imply that even if you didn’t quite get it, he did.

Adriane came up to stand next to you and snatched the blue tinged, white rimmed sunglasses off your face, replacing them with a dark, edgy pair more in line with Gage’s confirmed style. “Rostov is a hedonist with wild delusions of grandeur. He will try to flirt with you, and his demands are known to go far,” she informed in a tone that signaled you were to go along with it, as far as necessary.

“I’m cool,” you shrugged, stomach twisting with disgust you were still not entirely able to suppress.

“He will likely flirt with you too, Julian,” Adriane said in the same demanding tone to him.

“Mh,” he grunted vaguely, shucking on a leather biker jacket and ruffling his hair, as he studied his reflection, deciding if it all came together just right for Cipher.

You barely contained a grin, thinking of this scrawny little man, twisted with perversion, trying to entice the architectural marvel that was Julian Mills.

A clink of metal on hard wood rang through the air. “Put these on.”

Julian made his way to Adriane’s desk first, picking up the two rings with discreet tracking devices installed inside. He deftly slipped the smaller one up to the knuckle of his ring finger and let the other one drop. You followed moments behind and picked up the ring off the desk. It gaped around your ring finger, looking too big even for your thumb.

“Doesn’t fit,” you dismissed, setting it down and pushing it towards Adriane.

“Let me,” Julian said lowly, his long, thick fingers wrapping around your wrist. He brought your hand up and twisted the ring off his finger, sliding it carefully over yours and inspecting his work when he was done. He seemed to approve of the way your hand looked adorned with his wedding ring.

He then picked the other ring up and set it in your hand, expecting you to put it on him.

“Do I have to love, honor and obey?” you looked up at him as he offered a waiting hand. His silence filled the air with crackling intensity and you fought with yourself not to look away.

“Just obey,” Adriane answered for him and brought the moment to an end. Without ceremony, you slipped the ring on Julian’s finger and turned away from both of them.

Obey, you scoffed inwardly. Love was easy. Honor, you conceivably could. The only demand they both had of you was the one you struggled with most.

“You leave in 15 minutes,” Adriane informed as dispassionately as ever.

Before you left, curiosity got the better of you. “You got all this information out of them… Which one cracked?”

“They both did, of course,” Adriane gave a serene, composed smile, assured in the Museum’s methods.

“So who got to go free?”

Adriane blinked and for a moment, you had the distinct sense a huge grin would slice across her face. A jeering, hideous one, mocking your naiveté. “You should go get ready,” was all the reply she would give, and all the reply you needed.

As you descended in the gold-adorned elevator, on your way to the armory, Julian was quiet, looking at his panel and committing every detail of the plan, of Cipher and Gage’s history and activities, of intelligence on Rostov - all he could - to memory.

“Why was I chosen for this task?” you asked, choosing the opposite approach to Julian’s and clearing your mind before jumping into the task at hand.

He was silent as you descended for several levels and you started to assume he had not even registered your question. “It was an opportunity to improve your field mechanics,” he answered like a politician on the campaign trail.

Silence then followed from you. “Field mechanics,” you repeated, deeply unconvinced.

He turned and looked hard at you, pleading with you to hear what he was not allowed to say. “Adriane is under the impression that we are convincing as two people in love.”

It was not a compliment. The words had the cadence of a slur, and his tone of regret. It was not a good thing at all. He narrowed his eyes, satisfying himself that you took his meaning correctly.

The warm sunset, full of purples and oranges, gave way to a fine evening as you drove outside the city. As soon as you exited, you donned your masks as a precaution, wary of how far Rostov’s eyes reached. Yours was a white mask that extended into a crescent moon shape above your forehead and under your chin. Along its edges and around the eyes, the mask was outlined in silver and small stars twinkled along its face. Julian’s mask was white and gold, representing the sun, with five curvy rays creating an inverted pentagram around the smooth white face of the mask, adorned with golden arabesque designs. You looked at each other once the masks were on and the eerie blank canvass they presented, not knowing what face and expression they hid, was chilling.

You joined the scattered trail of other cars, uniformly black and armored, as they traveled noiselessly down a private road that would have been impossible to find without very specific instructions. The road was maintained to perfection, allowing you to glide smoothly down and weave its serpentines as they appeared without the slightest trouble. If not for the heady mix of trepidation and excitement that kept you wired and buzzing awake, you could have been lulled into a dreamlike sleep and sunk into the impenetrable darkness that surrounded you.

After stretching for what felt like an eternity, the road finally ended at a well-fortified gate, where you were ushered in and led up a lavishly landscaped path. A veritable army of masked guards stood sentinel all along the path, the entrance to a grand building and all the way to a sequestered area separated by gold stanchions and a red rope. Neither the host nor the guests wanted the security’s scrutiny while indulging in their hidden pleasures, a mistake that Julian and you were instructed to exploit. Behind unadorned gunmetal gray masks, the guards’ eyes followed every guest as they approached the rope forbidding entrance to the room beyond to all but a select few. There, you were instructed to shed your clothing and don party attire.

Rostov had purchased the magnificent château a few years back and it currently served as the crown jewel of his ostentatious tendencies and debauched proclivities. He restored it to its former glory, and had it outfitted with every modern comfort to boot, ensuring maximum pleasure and safety. It soon became the perfect place to host his monthly bacchanals, a pleasurable distraction from his usual activities of acquiring and testing biological weapons.

Invitations were handed out either to former collaborators who had displayed a keen sadistic and perverted streak, or to prospective talent, like Cipher and Gage, to ascertain if they possessed the requisite depravity of character to join in on Rostov’s activities unflinchingly. Masks and the privacy of the location guaranteed zero risk of discovery and damage to anyone’s reputation that would result from engaging in this sort of activity in a public venue.

With that in mind, you did not hesitate to disrobe. There was little to remove anyway and the mask served another useful purpose in making you bolder by hiding your face and whatever chagrined expression it might reveal. Julian watched, his eyes moving appreciatively behind his white and gold mask, as your skirt hit the floor and you removed your cropped top in one smooth movement. He waited, and at first you wondered why, but quickly surmised he meant to wait and have you undress him. You were proven right when he stepped into you as your last stitch of clothing came off and stood facing you, to shield you from any prying eyes. He did not put it beyond this rabble to be spying on guests as they changed. You slipped his trench coat off and, suddenly aware of your nakedness and his imposing proximity, made quick work of his shirt and pants, unzipping them roughly and making him flinch, before tugging them down just as harshly. Remembering your role, you chuckled, as though you had done it to tease him and crossed your arms over your bare chest, eager for the dress, as revealing as it was. Julian seemed unfazed by being completely naked in a large anteroom and offered the white halter neck satin dress for you to step into. The dress had a large slit in the side and flowed with every step, and the back was left entirely bare. It glided as smoothly as water up your body as he pulled it up and tied it at the base of your neck. He pressed his mask into your neck, in an approximation of a steadying kiss, and you felt the length of his body pressed into you, with the material of the dress dividing you leaving little to the imagination.

Julian’s attire was similarly revealing. A similar white material folded and tucked in around his hips, like the bottom half of a toga, and draped over his torso, cinched over one shoulder with a gold hoop and cascading down like a cape. He looked like an ancient marble statue, its perfection exaggerated by an impassioned artist in ardent love with his model, was brought to life.

The low thump of the music pulsed through the closed door as you neared it, and Julian brushed the bare skin of your lower back with his clever fingers as he claimed your waist, holding you close to his side as you ascended the steps and entered the party.

The renovated château was a blend of showy rococo and sleek modern styles. The dichotomy made for a luxurious experience, striking a balance between the lavish furnishings of the past and the present-day creature comforts, such as telephones, cameras, air conditioning, and modern mechanics. You followed a servant, distinguished by her plain gunmetal gray mask, into a spacious ballroom where the main activities were taking place. Heavy velvet curtains were drawn over the tall windows that lined the walls, keeping the lighting in the room low and atmospheric with only the dimmed chandeliers and scattered candelabras to set the mood. Dry ice created a mist swirling around the floor and ghosting around your steps. Erotic house music filtered in from the speakers embedded high above, and its thumping bass rattled in your bones as it provided a steady rhythm to rut to.

You passed sections of the ballroom, some divided by pillars and more heavy drapery, others raised on a dais, and each offered different activities. In some, more accessible areas, guests mingled and leaned masked faces close to exchange conversation and toasts, lifting only the bottoms of their masks to take quick sips. On a chaise longue, red and trimmed in gold, lay a man with his toga hiked up around his waist, straddled and vigorously ridden by a woman with nipple piercings connected by a series of chains and pendants, and her dark skin extensively tattooed. A small group of people, in various stages of undress gathered around them and commented on the participants and their activity.

You passed onto a higher level, leaving the couple behind you, and noticed that this area had raised platforms around one central viewing point. Each platform had two red leather sofas, one lower and one higher, permitting more positions and participants, surrounded by several waist-high columns. Each column held an object for members to use, either for pleasure or pain. You took in a few, including phallus-shaped implements, ball gags, riding crops, and pliers. In the viewing area, more of those comfortable chaise longues were laid out for those wishing to observe. Several platforms were currently occupied, but one drew your attention. A masked woman had her long legs wrapped around two men, one inside of her, the other inside of the man between them, and the three were being observed by a masked man in a black robe. He was one of Rostov’s inner circle, designated by his robe as untouchable – unless he asked to be – and irrefusable. His build was wrong; he was too young and too fit to be Rostov, so you moved on.

Sooner rather than later, you remembered as the stench of too many bodies fucking in an enclosed space hit your nostrils, you would have to engage in some activity yourself, lest your restraint draw unwanted attention. Even now, you felt appraising eyes land on you and Julian as you passed. You could not blame them. For all the young and attractive participants present, paid or drugged, who walked around and offered themselves like hors d’oeuvres to be sampled, they smacked of sex workers who were only doing a job. Some had the shaky, twitchy physique of junkies, while others had the used up bodies of veteran sex workers. You and Julian, by contrast, were trained by the Museum to be lethal, and having looks to kill was not a mere phrase where you came from. All those lessons in walking runways, learning classical dances, gymnastics, yoga, and the subtle art of erotica over the two years of your training made you both stand out in the most noteworthy way. Every step showed off your bodies, effortless grace and proud bearing; every brush of your fingers against Julian’s sculpted arm promised something more between you, and you felt eager eyes follow you, hoping to witness the moment you decided to take it farther.

The sounds of leather cracking and moans, quickly drowned out by delighted praise or mockery, led you into a large chamber, lined with ornate columns. A red carpet painted the floor red and several servants walked unobtrusively around with smoking censers, diffusing aphrodisiac scents around the cavernous chamber and perfuming the aroma of sex before it grew stale. In its center sat a long table, with a smorgasbord of men and women on top. From your vantage point, you could see two women with their heads between the other’s legs, one on her back, the other over her on her knees, both writhing and exaggerating their pleasure as their surgically enhanced breasts jiggled in one unmoving spot. Next to them were two handsome men on their sides, performing the same act and moaning deeply around the other’s shaft. In the middle was a piano bench with three women of widely varying ages in an embrace, busily alternating positions and acts. Around the table sat the more important attendees, watching, some stroking themselves or others under the table. The first woman you’d seen dressed in a black robe sat on the lap of a bony old man, his skin hanging like wet paper over his frame. She wriggled on his lap from his touch under her robes and pulled up a sleeve to offer her arm. He produced a syringe and injected her with a cloudy substance before resuming his ministrations. Julian walked by and caught the woman’s attention. She reached out for him and he extended her a hand, letting her pull him in close as she arched her back and spread herself across the table for him to sample. Julian loomed over her until she couldn’t wait anymore and tugged on his arm, splaying his large hand over her comparatively small breast, instructing him to knead at her chest. He did so, leaning closer over her so he could swipe the empty syringe from the floor and tuck it into the folds of his clothing. When he accomplished his task, he disengaged from the woman and you could see her roaming hand had found his way in between the folds of his toga and was trying to get in another one or two strokes as he retreated. As his partner, his wife, for the evening, you felt no need to disguise either your proprietary sense or your jealousy. Grabbing for his elbow, you jerked him towards you and spun him out of the way, positioning yourself between the woman in black and the object of both your desires. Too late it occurred to you that it could be huge mistake to challenge a high-ranking member. Your body spoke for itself, like a cat bristling and hissing, ready to claw out any eye that rested too long on Julian. You looked at her hand, suspended in midair as she considered demanding Julian back. With what relish you would break each and every finger, enjoying the snap of each knuckle. The flash in your eyes seemed to communicate this rather eloquently to the women and she turned back to the decrepit old man she was sitting on and threw her head back, her deranged laughter muffled behind her mask. The scene drew many masked faces to turn towards you and examine you with uncanny glittering eyes from behind impassive disguises. They had the eerie curiosity of carrion birds, waiting for their prey to become carcasses.

Julian drew you close, acting possessively, as if the fighting and territorial behavior was part of your foreplay. Grinding his hips into your backside, you felt him stiffen reflexively. His hands squeezed your hips and you threw your head back against his broad shoulder, letting him play out the scene and get you safely away. His hands roved up your body, following the contours of your waist and ribs. One hand slipped inside your dress and drew a lazy circle around the nipple, drawing it into a stiff peak and rolling it between his rough fingers. You let a shudder roll visibly through you and pressed your thighs theatrically together for the benefit of those savoring your reaction, creating some friction and relief. Julian’s other hand snaked up and coiled around your throat as he bent to whisper in your ear. “Fuck,” you heard a guttural grunt as he panted behind his mask, and his strained voice sent a jolt of pleasure through your body. You arched your back into him before you could think not to and his hips responded with a deep thrust as his stiffening cock sought some relief against the curve of your ass. “We should get out of here, he’s--” words failed him and he had to swallow hard before resuming, “he’s not here.”

As you straightened up, trying to find the closest exit point and make for it, one of the marauding sex workers, emboldened by whatever chemical cocktail she was on, made her way to you and placed one hand over the breast Julian wasn’t cupping, and the other around his neck, inviting herself into your company. Not worried about causing trouble due to her rank, you unceremoniously slapped her hand away from Julian, to delighted comments and encouragements from the throng watching on. She tottered like a toddler and you knew a single push could knock her down, and in her state, she likely wouldn’t even feel it. Still, she did not take the hint and tried to touch Julian again. His hand fell away from you and you caught her wrist, twisting only a little before she crumpled into the ground.

As you turned to leave, you nearly bumped into a woman, stripped to her waist, holding a young man’s wrists over an antique letter writing desk. Another woman, with sagging breasts that suggested breast feeding several children, bound in a leather harness, was whipping the youth across the back while an old man in black robes held his hips and frantically pumped. His legs were wiry and crooked and his gut was visibly round as he worked around the protruding flesh to stick his small member into the young man. You squeezed Julian’s thigh in question, as the gesture could be viewed as announcing your eagerness to join in. He wrapped his hand around yours and stilled you, signaling no. Rostov was scrawnier than this round-bellied man. But you were likely getting close.

Julian raised his masked head towards the upper levels of the chamber. All along the top floor were small viewing chambers, like opera boxes, and most of them held a member dressed in black, with a select guest, or guests, keeping them company. It was there he spied him.

Rostov, ever the attention seeker, was the only attendee with a mask made entirely of gold. Noticeably shorter than the naked woman accompanying him, he seemed to be watching Julian too. Without flinching or looking away, Julian stood and waited for a few beats. Finally, Rostov seemed to make up his mind and with a quick summoning gesture, a servant materialized next to you and asked you to join the host on the uppermost level.

As you were led along the balustrade to Rostov, you saw peep show-like personal rooms with acts going on in glass cages. These seemed to be one per box and, anticipating that you were brought here to perform rather than talk, you were grateful you wouldn’t be ogled by a multitude of criminals. Just one.

In one box, there was a woman in thigh-high boots and a collar around her neck, with a leash leading to some unseen master, bound to a velvet-cushioned chair. The viewer was issuing commands on what was to be done to her and you tried not to listen as you passed that box and approached another. In the glass box, a throuple was enjoying hot wax and blindfolds. At Rostov’s box, you saw a naked man wipe himself down as he exited and a pair of servants untied the woman and helped her out of a harness. The truncated scene confirmed what Julian had shared about Rostov and his penchant for more dominant men and submissive women. Gage’s impish and dominant behavior was a departure from that, so you made sure to remember not to play a meek, passive role.

The small man, hardly larger than a child, wore a golden mask that was reminiscent of hannya masks from Japanese theater, with large eyes, and a twisted grimace with a gaping mouth, revealing sharp teeth. Rostov examined Julian first, holding his large hand in his two small ones, looking at the golden band on his ring finger. He gave yours a glance to confirm he had it right, and let Julian’s hand go. As if examining a thoroughbred, he ran his hands over Julian’s thickly muscled chest, the marvelously sculpted ridges and valleys of his arms.

“You hold Gage so close, so very close,” Rostov said in a thick accent and sighed. “I can see why.” He ran a finger over your mask, down its smooth, cool cheek, and lower still, dragging his small hand flat down your chest, down the valley between your breasts. Julian shifted his weight and his chest involuntarily puffed up, making Rostov huff a small laugh.

He walked a few small steps away, into his box, and Julian surmised he should follow. When Rostov lounged on the divan, Julian did the same, and they were at last on the same plane.

“From the moment you two walked in, I had one single thought.” He waited until Julian leaned in closer, tacitly asking for an answer. “I want to fuck your wife,” he stage-whispered, loud enough for both of you to hear. “This is a family, Cipher,” Rostov placed a proprietary hand on the back of his neck, pulling him intimately in. Without the masks, they would have been a hair away from kissing. Julian heard Rostov’s labored breath behind his mask and was sure the man was hard to bursting, though his proportions were such that robes successfully hid on his body what they could never hope to hide on Julian. The man’s eyes devoured him, taking in his body greedily, lust shining in his beady eyes. “We do everything as a unit,” he coaxed.

Julian did not blink. He was playing the role of a man who did not share the woman he loved, and it came naturally to him. Both he and Cipher were the sort to risk powerful people’s displeasure for what they truly wanted. He observed his host, aware of his own intensely masculine appeal and let the man’s desire win out, breaking his determination and making him willing to negotiate.

“Bah,” the little man waved a frustrated hand, “I can see that your wife is not the sharing sort – for a moment there, I was worried she would break my wife’s arm when she was playing with you. And you can imagine the sort of pain in the ass she would be then,” Rostov laughed and phlegm rattled in his lungs. “I’m saddened to see you have the same sick notions of fidelity.” He sighed again and shook his head. “I’ll satisfy myself with watching you this first time, then.” With the matter decided in his mind, Rostov rolled away from him, and servants came in to escort you and Julian inside the glass box, while the pair that was in it before you came back and fell into an embrace with their host.

@thegrislady @lumberjack00fantasies @queeniebee @vedavan @mythrielofsolitude @house-of-cadwyn

#commander mills x you #commander mills x reader #assassin au

95 notes · View notes

rhettabbotts · 2 years

Text

dancing in a snow globe - r. abbott x fem!reader

summary: you didn’t expect to find love in wyoming, but that all changes one night when you meet rhett at a mutual friend’s party.

a/n: this is for my sweet emmie’s @jostystyles 2.6k celebration!!! i love you bestie and i hope you enjoy this, congrats again on your followers. you deserve all of them and so much more <;3

warnings: just pure fluff, language and drinking, some smooching

w/c: 2.2k

this is based on the song you are in love by taylor swift.

“I want you to meet someone.”

You were sitting at brunch with your best friend, a weekend tradition you started in college and continued after you graduated. You were sipping on your mimosa when she dropped the ball. Your eyebrows shot up at the statement, humming around the rim of your glass.

“Please, I don’t think I can take another blind date. The last one was too painful, all he talked about was his ex.” You poked at the eggs left over on your plate. It was hard trying to date someone when you were still fairly new to town. You moved to Wyoming after graduation, needing a change of scenery. While your family was hesitant about you moving so far away, you couldn’t pass up the job offer you received.

“I think you’ll really like him,” she leaned in from across the table, lowering her voice as she spoke again, “he’s a cowboy.” She pulled away, smiling when she saw your eyes light up. “He’s friends with John, they’ve been buddies since high school. He just got back to town not too long ago.. I heard he went through a pretty rough breakup last year.” She went on and on about this mystery guy, telling you things she heard from her boyfriend, John. “He’s going to be at the party tonight.”

“Does this guy have a name?” You couldn’t lie, you were intrigued. He used to ride bulls before he got injured pretty badly a couple of years ago, left town with his then girlfriend, came back after his dad passed away and his ex left him.

“His name’s Rhett. Rhett Abbott. You’ve heard of the Abbott ranch, right?” You nodded as you chewed on your muffin, washing it down with another sip of your drink.

“Yeah, I know which one you’re talking about. So he’ll be there?” You asked her, trying to not get your hopes up. You’ve had one too many failed dates recently, you think one more might put you off dating for good.

“Wear that black dress you bought a few months ago, it’s sexy,” she giggled as she placed her card down on the table. You rolled your eyes as you downed the champagne and orange juice.

You stood in front of your mirror a few hours later, smoothing your hands down the front of your dress. It was a satin material, hugging your figure in all the right places. The dress looked good on you, you just never had the opportunity to wear it. You touched up your lipstick and sent a text to your friend to let her know you were on your way. The party wasn’t very formal, and you were afraid you were a tad overdressed. Your stomach was in knots as you walked through the door, anxious to meet the infamous Rhett.

You had barely made it through the door when you tripped over the lifted lip of the rug that was on the floor, causing you to fall right into the arms of a stranger. Leave it to you to make a grand entrance.

“You alright there, ma’am?” You looked up to see the most beautiful man you’d ever seen. Tendrils of hair fell down onto his forehead, his deep blue eyes staring back into yours. And that voice. Its timbre ran a shiver down your spine. It sounded so warm, a gruffness to it that made your palms sweat. You swore he could probably hear your heart racing.

“Oh good! I see you two have already met,” your friend declared, hand in hand with John. “Rhett, this is the friend I was telling you about!” Your face heated up immediately when you realized you were in the arms of Rhett Abbott. Your hands were still gripping onto his firm biceps. You prayed at that moment to every god and deity that the earth would open up and swallow you whole. You friend didn’t stick around long, moving to greet more guests that came through.

“I am so sorry,” you finally spoke up, your voice nearly leaving you. You found your footing and stepped away from him, his hands dropping from the hold they had on your waist. You took in the sight of him. He wore a pair of dark wash jeans and a simple black button up, the sleeves rolled to the elbows. My god, you thought to yourself, he looked like sin personified.

“It’s alright. It’s not every day I have a pretty woman throwing herself at me,” he smirked.

“I didn’t- I wasn’t.. I just tripped- the carpet,” you rambled on before you realized he was laughing slightly. A warm smile was spreading across his face.

“I’m just kidding, sweetheart. I’m glad I was there to catch you,” he shifted on his feet, sliding a hand through his hair. “I’m Rhett, well, I guess you already know that.” It was your turn to smile up at him. You introduced yourself and extended your hand for him to shake.

“It’s nice to meet you, Rhett,” you said, trying to ignore the feeling that washed over your body as you felt his callused hand take yours.

“Likewise. You wanna grab-“ He didn’t get to finish his sentence before your friend was grabbing you by the arm and pulling you away. You threw him an apologetic look over your shoulder, mouthing “later” to him.

You didn’t see much of Rhett throughout the night, you were both too busy mingling with different people. He was catching up with old friends and you were making new ones. You were listening intently to Lisa talk about her new plants that she just repotted when you looked to your left and saw him. Rhett was taking a swig of his beer when his eyes met yours, a look that says everything and nothing all at once. It lasted all of two seconds before you’re being pulled back into the conversation when someone uttered your name. You saw Rhett make a move towards the door, he looked back towards you, a silent invitation. You waited a few minutes before excusing yourself, following after Rhett.

He was propped against the wall, taking a drag off a cigarette. His face lit up when he saw you, standing up straighter and pushing away from the wall.

“Hi. You gonna fall into my arms, again?” There that smirk was once more. You couldn’t deny that it made your insides twist and turn in the most delicious way. God, he was so handsome.

“Only if you’ll catch me again,” you joked. You made small talk as he finished his cigarette, telling him about why you moved to Wyoming and how you ended up in Wabang of all places. He talked about how he met John and how your friend never stopped talking about you when she was around.

“You wanna go grab some coffee?” Rhett asked, kicking at a rock that was at his feet. His hands were shoved into his pockets. “The diner down the road has the best coffee and ap-“

“Apple pie,” you finished his sentence, grinning at him. “It’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” You hesitated in your answer, not wanting to sound too eager. “I’d love to get a cup of coffee.” He walked you to his truck, opening the door for you. You talked the entire drive to the diner. You both got coffee and shared a piece of the apple pie. You stayed until Mrs. Mabel, the diner owner, was closing up shop for the night.

You stood outside the diner, not wanting the night to end. When there was a lull in the conversation, you fell into comfortable silence, walking down the street back to his truck.

“Hey, look up,” he said quietly, stopping on the sidewalk. You did as he said and the sight took your breath away. The sky was clear, the stars on full display. They sparkled like little diamonds, flickering like fireflies. You stood close to Rhett, shoulders brushing and hips knocking into each other. You looked to him, his face still turned upwards and you felt a wave of emotion wash over you. The soft glow from the street light enveloped him, and you took your time examining his side profile. You noticed a small scar at the edge of his jaw, barely noticeable under his stubble. Your fingers itched to trace it.

You never believed in love at first sight. Hell, you were close to giving up on love in general, but there was something simmering inside you as you looked at Rhett staring up at the stars. A feeling that wrapped its way around your heart and squeezed tightly. He looked down at you eventually, smiling that smile you were growing extremely fond of.

“Let’s get you home,” he said. You prolonged your goodbyes, neither of you wanting the night to end. You exchanged numbers and soft smiles before you got out of the truck. He watched until you got the door unlocked and waved at him to let him know you were okay. As he drove off, you shut the door, pressing your back against it and sliding down slightly. You felt giddy, a smile taking up permanent residence on your face. Rhett texted you when he made it home. Not too long after, another message came through.

“Would you like to go on a date next weekend?”

“Shit, shit, shit,” you cursed as you pulled the burnt toast from the toaster, nearly burning your fingertips in the process. “Damn it.”

“Well, that’s a sight a man could get used to,” Rhett said from behind you, causing you to jump slightly. He was propped against the entryway to the kitchen, pajama pants slung low on his waist. His eyes raked over your body, letting out a low whistle that caused you to turn away shyly. You were wearing just his flannel and your panties, foregoing pants since you knew you’d end up back in bed if Rhett had anything to say about it.

You had been dating for a few months now, spending nearly all of your free time together. You couldn’t get enough of each other, never running out of things to talk about. He listened to you complain about your office drama, getting so invested in who’s having an affair with who. You knew you were in the honeymoon phase but you loved every second of it. You had never felt this way about someone before. You were able to be yourself totally and completely. You didn’t have to hide your darkest parts from Rhett, nor did he have to hide his from you. You understood each other in a way no one else could.

He pushed off from the doorframe and made his way to you, wrapping you up in his arms and holding you close. He placed a kiss on your forehead and swayed you slowly.

“Trying to burn my kitchen down?” He asked, but there was not a hint of malice behind his words. He smiled softly at you before kissing you lightly, butterflies erupting in your stomach at the domesticity of it all.

“I was going to bring you breakfast in bed,” you said, pouting up at him. Your fingers wove through his soft curls at the nape of his neck, kissing him again.

“That’s sweet, baby. How about I whip us up something while you go get ready for today?” You nodded, pressing a kiss to the scar on his shoulder before walking away. Rhett couldn’t resist himself and he placed a small slap to your ass as you moved past him, relishing in the yelp you let out.

You spent all day in the city, nearly dead on your feet when you made it back to his place that evening. After a quick dinner and a (not so quick) shower, you laid in bed cuddled into Rhett’s side. Your head rested on his chest, fingers tracing shapeless figures where you lay. Rhett was dozing off, replies to your stories becoming few and far between. You were nearly asleep yourself when he whispered your name. You looked up at him and there was a look in his eyes you couldn’t recognize.

“You’re my best friend, you know that?”

Tears welled up in your eyes and you leaned in to kiss him firmly on his lips. You had not uttered those three words yet, but you felt them. You felt so deeply for Rhett, it frightened you some days. You loved him, loved everything about him. You poured all of your emotions into the kiss, hoping that somehow he would know you felt the same.

“I love you, Rhett, so much,” you said before even thinking about it, kissing him harder and moving to straddle his waist.

You were in love with Rhett Abbott. A man who was not always perfect, who was stubborn and hot headed at times. A man who picked you wildflowers ‘just because’ and who made you french toast on Sunday mornings. A man who made you feel so safe and accepted, reminding you of your worth every day. A man who has been catching you when you fall from day one. You loved him in this moment and all of the other moments in between and you hoped you got to love him for the rest of your life.

#rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott x you #rhett abbott fluff #outer range #lewis pullman #rhett abbott fanfiction

456 notes · View notes

theold-ultraviolence · 2 years

Text

Turbo Lover

Eddie Munson x fem!reader // 18 + MINORS DNI

Summary: Flicking through the pages of Heavy Metal magazine on a Friday after school, Eddie suggests you try something based on an illustration of one of the fantasy stories on the issue, featuring a woman in an iron bikini and a strap-on. // CW: anal fingering, rimming, oral (m) receiving, pegging, super soft femdom (?), light dub/sub dynamics, clothed female naked male // words: 3.5K

A/N: besties, you don't know how long I've had this idea dancing around in my head and I was finally able to get it out of my system. Title comes from the song 'Turbo Lover' by Judas Priest!

“You’d look so hot with one of those, babe.” Eddie murmurs nonchalantly against your shoulder, totally unfazed about the way your eyes bulge out in surprise.

You snort and think he must be under some kind of spell because of the afternoon heat, but his smile is both impish and entirely genuine, and the way his big eyes twinkle is not just the product of the sunlight reflecting on his irises, as you’re sitting side by side, leaning against a tree trunk out on Lover’s Lake.

“No way…”

“Way!” He sits up, resting his head on your shoulder. It’s Friday and you’re unwinding after school under the perennial sunset, with a heap of snacks, an ice cold 6-pack and the latest edition of Heavy Metal magazine, which is one of Eddie’s favorite reads along with Fangoria. While both centered around music, the former featured fantasy and sci-fi erotica comics while the latter was all about horror movies.

Eddie’s referring to the girl sprawled along the two-page spread – the protagonist of this issue’s story. It’s a steampunk erotica about this cyborg assassin, clad in an iron bikini and thigh-high leather boots; only some bits of her arms were revealing her robotic flesh while the rest of his body was voluptuous and tanned.

But the focus of Eddie’s attention was the accessory nestled between her legs, secured by a strap with spikes all around it. The lighting composition of the illustration hid what protruded from it from easy view with the cast shadow, but there was no denying its phallic shape teasing the reader.

“...Is this something you’d like to try with me?” You bite your lip as you look at him, unsure but simmering with excitement.

“Hell yeah, I would! – only if you’re up for it, though.”

While Eddie’s preferences in bed always leaned on the rougher side, he never pressured you to anything you weren’t comfortable with, and you’d never found someone so open to discuss whatever kink you’d been wanting to try without feeling embarrassed or ashamed. It helped that you’d been friends for so long and that a relationship had been the natural progression of your bond. That way, everything you’d tried, no matter how intense, was always approached with innate tenderness.

“Where would we find a strap-on, though? Think Rick could get it for us?”

You’d tried several things with different props and toys that Eddie had gotten his hands on thanks to this Reefer Rick character who was also his drug supplier, whom you only knew by reputation while his appearance remained an enigma.

“Ohh yeah! it won’t be a problem. When hasn’t he ever delivered?”

Vibrators, dildos, plugs, different flavored lube – everything in your shared collection, Rick had gotten you, saving you the trouble of driving to Indianapolis to a real sex shop given Hawkins’s miserable lack of one.

“In fact, why don’t I go call him right now!? Let’s go, let’s go! we have a new mission on our hands, (Y/N)!” He’s up in a flash, grabbing you by the hand to pull you up to your feet to hop into his van in the search of the nearest payphone in the area.

Once you’d reached one, and you’d stood by Eddie as he chatted with Reefer Rick, your belly began to thrumm with the buzzing of a thousand bees inside when he’d turned to you with a manic grin on his face as he’d cheered, “it seems like we’re on for next week!”

You shrieked and draped your arms around his shoulders to placate your anticipation with a kiss that was all a clash of teeth with how widely you were both smiling.

And now that you have a time frame to look forward to, you figure you’d ask a friend of yours for your own favor, to really go all out in this new experience.

–

It’s a whole scene you’ve set.

You’d put on a sheer, lilac handkerchief on Eddie’s bedside lamp so that the room could be draped in that dim yet whimsical hue amidst darker shadows, as you make your entrance.

Eddie lies naked— save for his black boxers — with his long, tattooed limbs sprawled on the bed, sporting the dopiest of grins as he watches you come in swaying your hips in that unique piece of lingerie you’d specifically gotten for this night.

You’d begged your best friend – who was the head costume designer of the drama club – to make you this set. The look on her face when you handed her the reference from the Heavy Metal spread nearly made you spill your drink in her face, and when she asked what you wanted this for you lied about it being for a comic convention out of town. You’re not so sure if she bought it, but at least – regardless of her face going as red as a tomato – she agreed to be discreet and have it by the end of the week, under the condition that you’d get Eddie to give her a ride back home after school for the rest of the school year.

The design of your bra and panties was made to emulate the one from the comic as much as possible. Obviously it couldn’t be an actual iron bikini, but the fabric your friend had chosen was metallic and rigid, meant to push up your tits out like the fantasy chicks from Heavy Metal, with silver spiked studs lining the hem and the straps; you complimented it with a garter belt and fishnet tights along with the leather boots you’d gotten off of a costume shop.

“Woah, look at you, baby!” He whistles and giggles from pure glee upon seeing you. “You look like you’re right out of a Judas Priest video.”

You chuckle, totally breaking out of the seductive mode you were trying to get into. It’s always like that with Eddie. Even in the most intense throes of passion you’d always find yourselves smirking and laughing from all that love that spilled from of your hearts.

“Come here!” he playfully growls and makes grabby-hands at you as he sits up and scoots closer to the center of the bed, welcoming you on his spread thighs.

His hands are all over you the minute you climb atop him and wrap your arms around his neck; his rings clink against the studs on the trim of your bikini while his fingers slide so smoothly over the metallic fabric when he squeezes and fondles your tits, before trailing his hands down along your curves, grasping at the straps and tights, teasingly letting them slap against your skin.

All the while you’re kissing, humming into each other’s mouths.

You cradle the back of his head and the side of his neck on your palms to tilt his head back to really lick into his mouth and gain the upper hand, as it had been the deal from the beginning. This night was all about indulging Eddie, yet he always got a little carried away with his need to put your pleasure first.

So you grab a handful of his curls to keep his head arched back as your kisses migrate downwards, to the corner of his mouth, his slack jaw, but specially, one of your favorite parts of Eddie’s body: that gorgeous column of his neck, thick and long, with an adam’s apple that looks good enough to devour whole. You feel his low groans resonate against your lips as you lap and nibble the pale skin.

Meanwhile, he pressed you closer to him with one hand around your waist while the other cruised down to the valley of your stomach and underneath your panties, not willing to wait any unnecessary time to rub the line of your pussy lips and dip his fingertips inside your cunt, moaning happily at the wetness that’s already pooling there.

“Eddie…” you sigh against the dip between his collarbones, clawing at his shoulder blades for purchase as those long, guitarist fingers of his could play you so well, knowing that slow, circular motions combined with a thumb pressing on your clit sent instant electric discharges through you. “Eddie…”

“Yeah?” he smirks, all too pleased to have you unwinding on top of him, with the proof of it rock hard against your lower belly.

You regain your composure though, and pull harder on his head, detaching your lips from him so you could throw him off balance and take the chance to take his hand away from your pussy, push him to lie flat on the mattress and kiss him in order to prevent a complaint.

“Tonight isn’t about me, Eds…” you lightly peck his lips, retracing the downward path you’d marked before, “this is all about you, baby…” you whisper, lavishing his chest with your tongue, taking your sweet, sweet time to lightly graze each of his pink nipples with your teeth before harshly sucking on them.

His hoarse moans and the look of his head tilted back is an experience you’d like to bottle up and bathe in. Such a talkative boy rendered speechless by you, it made your nerves alight and every single hair on your body stand.

Your heart races with endearment from how he couldn’t keep his hands off of you – one of them gently resting at the back of your head while the other lightly soothed your shoulders and cheek as you massaged his sides.

You kiss your way down his stomach, tongue dipping into his belly button making him and contract with goosebumps, pulling your hair to beg for more.

Which you give, and give, and give, drooling on his navel, nuzzling those coarse, light brown hairs that grew thicker as they signal an enticing path to his cock, kissing them ever so fondly while caressing his hip bones.

“Baby…” his quiet moan dissolves into timid laughter because your touch is so sweet, yet your mouth so devious, spitting on his clothed cock and mouthing at that stiff weight nestled inside his boxers.

“Lube and glove,” you gently order, as you scoot back a little bit on your knees to pull down and take off his boxers – cock bobbing free and happily standing up just for you.

His lips are all puffy as he bites them, looking all doe eyed and blissed out as he hands them to you and follows your movements, sliding on a black latex glove on one of your hands while skirting a generous dollop of lube on it with the other.

You reach down and drool all over his cock before licking a wide stripe all along it to then pepper it with light kisses up and down the ridges of his shaft, to then gather your saliva on your mouth and swallow his tip while you grab the base with your lubed hand.

You stroke him up and down, tantalizingly slow as you hollow out your cheeks and suck on the head, press on the veins of his cock with your tongue, and suck your way down to meet your hand.

“Fuck, baby, just like that…” he pleads, with his pretty eyes shut under a furrowed brow and his mouth all slack – his grave moans, the perfect motivation to pick up the speed of your motions.

Lewd mewls pump out of you from how fucking good his cock stretches out your mouth, fills your throat, how he pulses on your flattened tongue and how his hands urge you to make you go faster, to have you gagging on him.

You let him go with an obscene pop and a string of saliva connecting you to the head so that your lubed hand could fondle his balls before sneaking under to find his hole. “Ohhh there he is…” you coo at him, smiling at Eddie’s utterly debauched state before you squeeze more lube into your index and middle finger, rubbing them together to warm the liquid up and begin teasing his entrance.

“Ohhh, that’s it, sweet boy, relax…”

“Fuck, (Y/N)...”

“Don’t you want this, Eddie?”

“Fuck yeah, I do…” he hiccups out a moan the more that tingling sensation builds on his core, “I do, baby…”

“Then let go, let me take care of you. I want to take care of you this time.”

You raise the bottle of lube and liberally drizzle the liquid down on him so that you could easily slip one finger inside, hooking it on the rimm ever so lightly, before easing it deeper in, inch by inch.

Time seems everlasting, with silence all around except for the wild beating of your heart that you swear Eddie could hear, from how he was undulating his hips to the rhythm of it with labored breath when you were able to slide two fingers into him now, gingerly spreading him, loosening him up for the main act.

Soon it’s easier, and the texture of the latex helps; Eddie plants his feet on the bed, spreads his thighs wide open to grant you more space to continue sucking on his cock while you insert a third finger into him.

“You’re doing so good for me, Eddie…so, so good…” you messily mumble against the velvety skin of his dick before swallowing him whole again, gargling on him when he greedily rutts against you.

“Yeah?” He chokes out a moan, gazes down at you with those big doe eyes swallowed up by his dilated pupils. No matter how ruined he may look, with his locks dripping sweat and his skin all dewey, he’s still present enough to lovingly smile at you.

“Of course, Eddie…you think you can handle more?”

“Uh-huh…”

You up the pace of your hand, going deeper, harder, while your sloppy mouth switches between drooling and sucking cock and then biting and nibbling on the soft flesh of his inner thighs.

You strike a nerve within him that has him nearly jumping from the bed so you have to calm him with a hand on his tummy while you keep fingering him.

He looked so ready to burst, but the night wasn’t over yet. Now that he’s all prepped up for you, you carefully remove your fingers, soothing his gaping hole by lapping up a broad stripe over it to his perineum, once and twice, and once again, moaning as you rim him so hungrily until he’s grabbing you by the hair.

“Come here, please”

You humm in response, slowly moving away by kissing his thighs, his hip bones, and that beautiful belly that rises and falls with his heaving breath.

When you climb up your way back to him he has zero hesitations on devouring your mouth, sloppily making out with you, grunting against your mouth as he tastes himself and helps you to properly straddle him.

“Ready?” you murmur against his spit-slick lips to which he nods. “Do the honors, then.”

You’re both smiling like a couple of idiots, when Eddie removes the latex glove and tosses it away, then brings out the strap-on from where it rested on the bedside table. Reefer Rick had come through, finding the craziest looking dildo in an iridescent color to stay close to the reference, as requested, with the strap also lined up with spikes.

You don’t dare ask how he finds these things, let alone on such a short notice.

“Wait wait wait wait a sec! We’re not having sex based on something we saw on Heavy Metal without some heavy metal playing in the background, babe! I know just the thing for this.”

He leaves the strap-on on the bed, gives you a quick peck on the lips before he’s rising from the bed and sprinting to his stereo.

“Eddie!” You watch him swipe through his box of cassettes before he snaps his fingers and laughs excitedly when he finds Judas Priest’s Turbo album and pops it on the stereo, with the opening track’s combined synth and guitars rising in crescendo, engulfing the atmosphere as Rob Halford’s eerie vocals guide you into the mood – ‘you won't hear me, but you'll feel me…’

“Okay, that’s perfect, though.” You snort upon seeing him all giddy with the proper soundtrack.

He hops back in the bed and you accommodate to straddle him once more; then he reverently fastens the strap-on around your waist, staring in awe at the thick dildo that protrudes from it. So in awe that he’s compelled to frame your face with his palms and give you a long, passionate kiss that only finishes because a big smile is pulling his lips up.

“Ready, Eds?”

“Fuck yes!” he grins, with one last quick kiss to the corner of your lips.

“Lie back down for me, Eddie.”

He does as told, and takes the initiative to squirt some more lube into his own palm to stroke at the dildo while you adjust on top of him, caging him in with your arms on each side of his head.

“Sssshit, baby…” he groans when the tip of the dildo briefs his hole, arching his neck back and flashing you a sight of the veins popping from that long marble pillar that you find so enticing.

“Shhh, relax for me, Eds. You’re doing so, so well for me, you can take this can’t you?”

He grunts in response, eyes wide shut and hands anchoring themselves on your hips, kneading at your skin, grabbing handfuls of your ass and grasping at the flimsy cords of the fishnet tights that adorn your thighs.

Steadily you enter him, breach him through the tight grip of his ass on the dildo and reaching deeper and deeper until you bottom out, pausing for a moment to allow him to settle into the sensation, showering him with loving kisses to his forehead, cheeks and the shell of his ear, whispering all throughout, “I love you so much, Eddie…”

“I love you too, baby… you can move now, sweetheart.”

He fully envelopes his arms around you, bringing you closer as you tentatively raise your hips and start building up a pace, moaning into his mouth as you feel the friction of your thrusts impacting your clit where it’s being grazed on and on and on each time you plunge into him.

“Ohhh god…” you squeal, not expecting how good this would feel for you. Let alone for Eddie, who’s brow furrows more prominently and it looks as though the plush skin of his lips will break with how hard he’s digging his teeth into them to constrain those guttural groans from bubbling out of him.

Normally when you’re on top of Eddie, his fingertips would lightly trail along your skin or massage your back before coming around again to fondle your tits but now – as your pace picks up, growing more and more brutal, he can only hold onto you, nails scraping long stripes down your vertebrae, sending sparks flying all over your nerves like the firework-like embers spurring from welded iron.

He’s normally so giggly and talkative but now he’s been reduced to this great pile mush, with that handsome face of his looking both pained and elated — you can’t help but dive in and lick into that slack mouth while you card a finger through that halo of sweaty, messy curls.

“Eddie, this feels so good…” you sigh, “so, so good, baby…”

Finally he grins and wheezes against your mouth, “imagine how I feel, baby…I – ohh fuck, I don’t think I can hang on for much longer, sweetheart…”

“Touch yourself for me, Eddie…”

A long groan leaves him as he spits on his palm before wrapping a firm grip around his cock and stroking himself to the rhythm of your pistoning hips – “SHIT! (Y/N)!”

“Eddie!” you mumble his name like a prayer against his dripping temple, tasting the salty musk of his skin and inhaling in the scent of Eddie’s hair – this mix of sensations being the very catapult that’s pulling you right back, stretching you back like an elastic band before releasing you out into the faraway void that’s spinning and spinning and spinning along to the chords of the guitar solo in the background.

“Fuck! Cum for me, Eddie, cum for me baby, please, cum for me…”

“Ohhh shit, FUCK!” he yells as thick ropes of cum paint his stomach, and you don’t slow down your pace until you’re sure you’ve milked him for everything he’s got, until there’s drops of cum landing on the zombie head he has tattooed on his right pectoral.

Your ears are ringing from the intensity of it all so you barely register that in the background, the song was already fading to an end…

‘...I'm your turbo lover

Tell me there's no other

I'm your turbo lover

Better run for cover…’

Your lips lazily join in a kiss that’s more shared breath than anything else, as you carefully slide the dildo out of him with a quiet hiss as you could feel the resistance of him clenching around the toy.

You sit back for a moment to remove the strap, before you’re draping yourself on top of him without any care at all for the sticky mess covers his torso, encasing him in your arms as your thumbs soothe the soft skin of his cheeks, his chin and nose until he opens those beautiful eyes again.

“Hey, there he is…”

He smiles all toothy and dopey at you doting on him – languid, flushed and quiet, chest painted with red splotches from how thoroughly you’d fucked him.

He looks too cute for his own good.

You’ve no choice but to kiss away the cuteness, lightly smooching his lips over and over again until you hear the melodious sound of his laughter which you greedily drink up.

“That was so amazing…thank you, babe. You’re a turbo lover, alright.”

“Oh my god, Eddie that’s so stupid!” you wheeze out before he growls and tickles your sides, wildly nuzzling the side of your neck to have you all helpless and lax to easily tackle you onto your back and lay his weight on top of you, grabbing your hands in his as he bows down for more kisses.

“Maybe so, but you loooove me still.”

“That I do.” You whisper, gazing at the dreamy sight he makes, with his skin glistening with sweat, his brunette curls all matted down against his temples, his eyelashes long as they frame those big, bright eyes of his – not to mention that hidden dimple that creeps up on his right cheek when he smiles as he does now.

“How about this,” you mumble between kisses, “we order takeout and check out the latest HM issue. Now I really wanna see you fucking me in an outfit like this.”

He boops your nose with the fingertip of his pinky before kissing your forehead.

“Sounds like one hell of a plan.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x yn #reader insert #female reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things #fanfiction #joseph quinn #my writing #eddie munson fanfiction

264 notes · View notes

consularmain · 7 months

Text

Alliance Commander Ask Game

THE WAY I SCREAMED WHEN I FOUND THIS IN MY DRAFTS. I was tagged a very long time ago by @sullustangin to do this and I completely forgot

1) Who’s your Alliance Commander? What class are they? Alignment? Random other facts you wanna share?

My Jedi Knight is my canonical Commander for my legacy. Her name is Minerva and she’s been through a lot of changes since I started playing her in 2018. She is a Guardian tank with a Shadow secondary class. She’s trapped at Light 5 because of how the old alignment system worked, but I headcanon she’s closer to Light Three. She has one of the most detailed backstories I've ever made for a character and I'm so proud of her :') She's like my child lol

2) What’s a reason or two you like that this character is your Commander? Minerva is not and never wanted to be a leader in any way and I live for that kind of inner conflict. Plus the expansions feel very natural with the Knight as the Commander imo.

3) What’s a reason or two you don’t like about them being Commander? I can’t think of anything other than I wish the writers would let her get some rest. Give me a cutscene where she's just enjoying being with her friends and boyfriend pls

4) Why did this character of all your OCs become Commander? Like I said earlier, it felt natural for Minerva to continue her fight against Vitiate and she was also the first character I got to endgame before Onslaught came out so she's just fixed as the Commander in my mind.

5) Who did they side with? Did they stay loyal or go saboteur? Or maybe you headcanon they defect properly? Minerva decided to side with the Republic, but she kept the Alliance separate and declined the offer to become a member of the Order again. She believes in the Republic but she hasn’t been a Jedi for a long time – even before she was put in the carbonite. And it would be incredibly inappropriate given a new “attachment” in her life.

6) Are there any NPC’s from the class stories you’d like to see/HC join the Alliance? Ex: Master Timmns, Ardun Kothe, Watcher One, etc. Lord. PRAVEN. In my hc, he was on Ossus during kotfe/kotet and joins the Alliance after Onslaught. He's Minerva's bestie and the writers can't take this away from me.

7) How’s your OC feeling about the current Malgus situation? She's over it, honestly. She is so tired of people coming back from the dead.

8) Are any of your other OC’s part of the Alliance? If yes what do they do for the Alliance? Do they get along with your Commander?

My Chiss trooper, Jame Harper, is Minerva's cousin but they're closer to sisters. Harper had given up hope she was still alive and attacked Zakuul to avenge her. Once she joins the Alliance, Harper is responsible for training new recruits and strategizing for the big battles.

After the incident on Dromund Kaas, Acina sent her Wrath to Odessen to show the Empire’s support. Tegan and Minerva’s old rivalry picked up right where it left off but now that they're on the same side, they actually start to respect each other. They become frenemies but it doesn't last long.

Freya and her Clan join Torian on Odessen and are responsible for keeping the peace between Imperial and Republic personnel. Freya knows Minerva doesn't have much family so she takes on an almost motherly role, fussing over her and making sure she takes care of herself.

My Smuggler, Lyall, is Minerva's eyes and ears in the Outer Rim. He's a friend to the Alliance, not an actual member, but he appreciates what they're trying to do. He and Minerva share a history so it's no big deal for him to help out on the occasional mission.

9) How does your OC feel about Odessen? (Bonus: how do you feel about it) Despite all the craziness around her, Minerva feels at peace on Odessen - something she's not felt in a long time. She loves the wild forests and the endless lakes and rivers. It feels like home. She's never felt that way about anywhere before, not even the Jedi Order. I personally love Odessen. I wish there was a stronghold on Odessen so I could decorate it to Minerva's tastes.

10) How does your Commander feel about being the Commander? To say Minerva has a complicated relationship with it would be an understatement. Some days, it's great. She's doing more for the galaxy than she ever could as a Jedi. But sometimes she realizes just how many lives will be effected by her decisions and she feels trapped. She doesn’t feel anyone should ever have so much power. But she's lucky to have such a strong support system behind her and they make it bearable.

11) Favorite place in the Alliance base? Minerva's favorite is the little pool at the base of the statue in the Force Enclave. She meditates for hours in the sunlight coming in through the crack in the ceiling. As for mine, it has to be the war room. I love seeing my companions just vibing with each other.

12) Favorite mission in KotFE? Definitely visiting the old world on Zakuul with Senya. I wish we got to see more of it or at least get a Zakuulan stronghold but I doubt the story will ever bring us back to Zakuul :(

13) Favorite mission in KotET? The palace mission, just because it's where we get Arcann lmao

14) Least favorite mission in either? Why? The walker missions are brutal. Except for the one on Iokath. That one is so much fun lol

15) Is your Commander successful because they’re skilled? Or are they perhaps just really lucky? Minerva has worked hard to hone her body and mind into a weapon, but she also believes the Force is on her side as long as she listens to it. To her, luck doesn't exist.

16) From our OC’s point of view, SoR -> KotET wasn’t a fun experience, did they develop any fears as a result? A lot of her fears were realized. She was abandoned by the people she trusted and the Jedi Order, the only constant in her life, was practically wiped out. Valkorion was once again in her head and the fear of him taking over at any given moment made her distance herself from the people around her in order to protect them. It was the loneliest period of her life.

She also has a fear of public speaking so she hates it when she has to give speeches to encourage people.

17) AU time! If your Commander wasn’t Commander, which of your other OCs would have likely taken their place? Harper has a habit of falling into positions of leadership despite her loner attitude. I can see her somehow accidentally becoming Commander in Minerva's place because no one else stepped up.

18) Who’s someone your Commander hopes they never have to deal with again?

19) Does your Commander hold on to/still use any titles they earned before KotET? Minerva's begun to let go of her old life but she doesn't mind being called "Master" or "Battlemaster" by other Jedi. She earned those titles so it's a sign of respect for her.

20) Share something, anything at all, you want about your Commander that you’ve not really gotten the chance to share before but really want to. Minerva loves trashy entertainment. Holovids, shows, books - it doesn't matter, she loves it all. It's antithesis to everything she was used to growing up that she found it so compelling. She's also a sucker for those romance books you see in line at the grocery store.

#swtor #the old republic #jedi knight #oc: minerva #alliance commander ask game

23 notes · View notes

chatte-noire · 8 months

Text

Light bringer x scheming

an appreciation and condemnation of the schemes, moves and manouvers in light bringer. who served them the coldest, and who was bamboozled? This is only about stunts, not about morals or likability.

Lysander:

Lysander's scheming took a whole new level and I was really surprised at the little coup he staged with atalantia in the collosseum. In the first half of the book he really had the monopoly on well placed and daring maneuvering.

I think his best stunt was the compromise on the dockyard of venus, managing to keep apollonius, and win the carthii and julias block while simultaneously showing up atalantia, reinforcing the alliance with the rim and starting the attack on mars.

I wouldn't have expected him to be able to hold the alliance with applelonius for even a few weeks, now its been a whole book, I'm exited to see if Darrow can use the minotaur against lysander in red god.

yes in the attack on phobos he wasted ships and men and money and copied darrows helldiver strategy.. but he also surprised virginia with his strategies and finally took enough of phobos to have the upper hand in negotiations, something I wouldn't have expected him to be able to do. esp. after atlas called phobos impregnable.

Darrow:

in the first half darrow honestly took the scheming L. when I read the excerpt 2 weeks before buying the book I was CONVINCED that they didnt just land in apollonius obviouss trap, like pls let this be a trick. Darrow is such an experienced schemer, he must have expected a trap? but no he was like, tattoos look right, must be my bestie in this easily accessible prison. Its especially naive because he broke apollonius out of deep grave and so knows that apollonius knows how he would plan a prison break. and that backup plan was also flimsy, I expected better from him haha

on Europa Darrow had a nice scheming comeback, like recreating the Dead Horse strategy and beating Fa? Iconicc. bringing both obsidians (with a vote) and rim (with diomedes' oath) closer to democratic values? inspiring. Brokering collaboration between Rim, Daughters and Obsidians? A strong feat. that speech with the daughters was nice too.

but.. (and I'm not saying it didn't cost him a lot and will probably keep costing him dearly in red god) lysander still kept his scheming level established in the first half of the book. so much trickery, let's see how long he can keep it up before he drowns in it. He was backed into a corner by atlas but managed to trick both Atlas and Cassius, defeat the rim and gain a horrible weapon with one move.

It cost him the Rim Alliance and his humanity, but we already know his morals and ideology are a feeble construct held up by delusion and wanking off on silenius. and the rim armadas were destroyed by atlas so to lysander it probably only seems like a temporary loss until they come crawling back to society when hunger defeats them.

Sevro's stunts were refreshingly constant and awesome. Like.. escaping apollonius and fighting him in his own house?? rescuing his bumbling saviours? and the most bestest move: convincing the Daughters of Ares to work together with them by holding such an iconic speech like.. wish we would have gotten to see that in first person. just like Volgas ascension as obsidian queen. They both had such iconic and smart moments off screen. pierce doesnt want them to steel the stunt limelight me feels.

Aurae was able to follow her goals throughout the book, while managing the boys, the daughters of ares and diomedes. she had an emotional and moral bond to each one of them, but managed to stay true to her own values even as the parties were conflicting.

honorary mentions:

Lyria smuggling herself unto the archie, she knows how to take advantage of her size, even more impressive because darrow had the same experience with rhonna and still didn't realise (or didnt care?)

Apollonius snatching up Darrow and Cassius

Virginia having an informant in the Society (her clone bro?) and her making a pact with and freeing the obsidians. I would have loved to see more of her, she always delivers top tier schemes (except for when she is outschemed by society rats).

they were outschemed, honorary mentions:

Volga following Fa: even if he wasn't Atlas puppet,,, he's still such an obvious upholder of Gold values and tyranny, but volga didnt want to see any of it. this makes her following him so horrible, I hope it doesn't all get blamed on Atlas, I mean Volga was fine with everything except for atlas' involvment. I don't know if she was naive or blind or ignorant or greedy but that was some top tier delusion.

Lysander bedazzling himself: this is the most hilarious and complete trickery. That guy just believes every fucking excuse he can give himself, he just gobbles them up. He might have freed himself from his AA Puppetduo, but the real puppeteer in his life is his delusional ideology and hybris.

Atalantia: she had such a good and safe plan, she just didn't realize that lysander doesn't care for his friends enough. now she is some ships and influence poorer, lost her watchdog, her nephew/lover (ew) and the grip on Lune's heir

Diomedes: Lysander had him wrapped around his lying finger and he did nott see that dishonorrr coming. Cassius didn't see it either, but I think he would have tried to save lysander anyway. The himbo bamboozlement lost them the garter and Cassius was murdered, at least he could kill Fear on the way.

#this is not a measurement of merit #just of trickery #lysander obviously won the scheming contest #he tricked everyone and then himself #but darrows comeback was iconic #he entered with nothing but his name and his bros and left with a fleet and two new alliances #but my favorite stunter was sevro #I didnt expect it after his lack of screentime and they tied so well to his character development #in red god I wanna see some more tricks from the shes and the gays #light bringer spoilers #light bringer #red rising #darrow of lykos

13 notes · View notes

hollandsangel · 2 years

Text

nye | tom holland

happy new year everyone!! sending sosososo much love and light to every single one of you, i hope this year brings you all the good things 2021 forgot to

in honour of welcoming a new year, i wrote a lil fic (fiercely and in bed im sleepy but didn’t wanna forget my idea, even if its super cheesy and predictable) i hope you enjoy !

summary: tom helps you with your little dilemma

warnings: super short, bestie tom, mentions of alcohol

dear god i’ll never get over him in this shirt

there were five minutes left. five minutes left before midnight and you were standing in the middle of the living room stirring your drink aimlessly, looking around to see if anyone else was just as desperate for a new year’s kiss as you were. you had very little luck.

two miners left. two minutes left and the panic was starting to settle in. more people were starting to crowd into the room with crystal glasses filled with champagne. with a sigh you weaved your way around the dancing bodies (who were grinning, you were a little jealous) and to the kitchen, deciding maybe champagne wasn’t such a bad idea.

behind the kitchen counter stood a devilishly handsome tom. he decided on leather pants for the occasion, having told you “i don’t wear them enough, tonight is the perfect excuse” when you complimented them upon entering the party. clinging tightly to his arms and chest was a soft, red collared shirt. his curls were a bit unruly, but it made him look a little more relaxed and grown up (and maybe it tempted you to jump him, maybe.)

the moment his eyes land on you he’s flashing you a toothy smile, eyes glistening as he raises a nearly empty glass in your direction. you return his smile, because how could you not, and shuffle across the kitchen towards him.

“champagne m’lady?” he offers, setting his glass down and pulling a vet expensive looking one down. you merely nod, already feeling a little bit better with his smiling face so close. albeit you haven’t 100% recovered, and tom notices.

he hands you the glass and inspects the emotion draped over your features. “everything alright? you don’t think my party’s boring do you?” he adds with a playful lot in his voice.

you smile again and shake your head. “no, no your party is great tom, i just…” you shake your head, laying a little too much attention to your finger tracing the rim of the glass he's handed you. “it’s stupid.” you sigh.

“nonsense, tell me what’s going on up there.” he gently taps your temple, downing the last swig of his beer and peering at you over the rim of his glasses.

you sip at your sparkling drink and sigh again. “i just…i really thought i was gonna get a new year’s kiss this year.” you say it sheepishly, as if it’s the most embarrassing confession he’s ever heard.

tom sets his glass down, eyes on you for a moment before they dart to his watch and then back up. “c’mon.” he nearly grunts, reaching for your wrist at pulling you up from the leaning position you had taken against the counter top.

“what’re you-“ tom is dragging you through the living room, and you’re cut off when he stops abruptly and you walk right into his chest.

fifteen seconds left. he’s staring at you, a little giddy but you tell yourself it’s the alcohol.

ten seconds. people start counting down, chanting numbers with the mad grins spread across their lips, taking up all the space in their features.

tom is no exception.

“why are you looking at me like that?” you ask as he steps closer to you.

“because the new year starts in four seconds, nd i don’t have a new year’s kiss either.”

and then there’s no time left, and his hands are on the sides of your face to lift your lips to his and he’s kissing you.

at first you’re a little bit startled, because this is not how you thought you’re conversation with tom about having no one to kiss would end, but then you relax and the feel of his hands drowns out the sound of everyone’s cheers.

he’s flushed and smiling when he pulls away. “happy new year y/n” he beams.

you’re still reeling from that kiss. it was desperate and needy and rushed and longing, maybe even a little warm,. but you’ll have to finish evaluating it a little later.

“happy new year tom.” you beam right back.

tags! @randomlimelightxxx @baby-bearie @averysbestyears @would-you-tell-me-who-you-are @g7aesthetic @babyzachyy @wdwjay02 @chilling-seavey @bessonbabie @my-fangirling-outlet @hiya-its-amber @katie-avery @theduckgoesquack @coffearabica @jonahlovescoffee @babybuckleys @hllandvibbes

#happy new year #!!!#tom #tommy boy #tom holland concept #tom holland blurb #tom holland series #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland #peter parker #spider man: no way home

276 notes · View notes

monsterfolkandfiction · 2 years

Text

The Market

This was inspired by @recklessfiction’s post. Thank you @silverclawz for finding it!! Featuring a gender neutral human reader (no use of “y/n”) and a gender neutral fae. It’s SFW with no serious warnings except some swearing.

(Part 2)

“So?!” Renée pops her giant wad of bubble gum, bouncing excitedly in her seat, audibly rustling the bright fabric of her fuchsia miniskirt.

“So, what?” Rolling her deep brown eyes at my feigned ignorance, my best friend huffs in indignation and pokes at my cheek with the tip of a long, baby pink acrylic nail.

“So are we going to this amazing market together or what?!” I level my gaze with hers and take a long sip of my latte, smirking against the rim of the mug as she visibly tenses with annoyance. Her arms cross over her chest and a perfectly sculpted, black eyebrow raises as I lower my mug to the flimsy cafe table and lean back against my seat.

“What market?” Renée groans loudly, easing a puff of laughter from my lips as she slumps forward and buries her face in her hands.

“I’m teasing, Ren,” my own head dips as I admire the intricacy of her makeup, easier to see now that she’s bent towards me over the table. It’s obviously a look meant to highlight her naturally gorgeous features while adding a bit of dreamy whimsy to catch the eyes of anyone who happens to look her way. I’m just worried that she’ll end up attracting the wrong person’s attention, especially someone from the fae market she’s so intent on visiting. “I know you want to go but what if we get our names stolen or something?”

“Then we’ll pick new ones!” My brows pinch together but she’s quick to reassure me, “We’ll be careful, I promise. Besides, practically everyone we know has gone before and they’ve all been fine!” I exhale, feeling uncertainty and sour anxiety gather and roil inside my stomach.

“Allegedly.” Renée slaps a bill on the table and stands, stretching a hand towards me with an infectious smirk on her glossy lips.

“Come on, bestie. Let’s go find something pretty and cursed!”

“But I already have you!” She snorts and squeezes my hand almost painfully while leading me out of the cafe, her tall heels clicking elegantly on the tile floor as we exit.

The drive was shorter than I would’ve liked; it seemed that we had only just settled in Renée’s car, finding a comfortable temperature and the perfect song to sing along with when her GPS robotically announced our arrival. My nervous dread doubles, easily, but Renée practically skips towards the manicured forest pathway, pointing enthusiastically at the gorgeous, twisting vine and twinkle light archway that stands like a gateway between worlds, inviting us to enter.

“This is it!” I smile tightly as she playfully elbows my ribs and chatters away about all the strange and magical things our mutual friends have found and experienced here. She tugs me forward, through the entrance, and I can’t help straining my neck to look back at her car, silently wishing we were still locked safely inside.

It’s not a long walk to the market, and the forest is gorgeous, so I try to relax a bit and enjoy the scenery, if nothing else. As we turn to accommodate a bend in the path, gentle music flits in the air along with the sound of voices. My nerves sputter to life, but I do my best to ignore them. As soon as we round another turn, we’re met with a fae market in full swing.

It wasn’t what I expected; it honestly resembles a regular, human farmer’s market, complete with stalls of produce, various wares and handmade goods, and even different animals and livestock. Renée eagerly darts forward, already interested in a booth full of what looks to be antique beauty products and accessories. I start after her, but accidentally bump into and almost knock over a small child. My arms fly out to steady them before they eat any dirt.

“Crap, are you okay?! I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention!”

“Fuckin’ fist timers,” a voice much deeper than a child’s gripes and I’m startled to see a grownup’s scowling face glower up at me. They shove my hands away and flip me off before disappearing into the crowd.

“Goblins, so uncivilized,” a voice like silk purrs close to my ear, “had it been me, I would’ve thanked the mother goddess for orchestrating our collision.” A prickling flush heats my chest and face when I lock eyes with the person flirting so unabashedly with a total stranger.

They are predictably gorgeous, as stereotypical fae always are, with smooth, dark brown skin and impossibly long, flawless, black braids framing their sharp, inhumanly symmetrical face. Shimmery, pearlescent tattoos mark thin, geometric lines and patterns over their plump lips and angular cheekbones, glowing in the hazy afternoon light. The tips of their pointed ears just peek out between tresses of ebony braids, almost as sharp as the pronounced canines they reveal in their seductive grin.

“I, uhm, should find my partner.” The fae chuckles smoothly, evoking a wave of shuddering tingles down my spine.

“She is not far,” they nod to something behind me and I turn to see a flash of Renée before she’s swallowed by a booth full of brightly coloured fabrics. “Call me Oleander, all my friends do.” I try to discern if a flutter of pink flowing material is Renée’s skirt or just a sample of cloth but Oleander steps in front of me and blocks my gaze.

“Friends? We’re not friends.” Conjuring a mentality of iron, cold and unfaltering, helps to keep me in place when the mysterious fae squints against the sharpness of my tone and stares me down, their gaze swirling with both intrigue and menace. What couldn’t have been more than a handful of seconds seem to pass at a snail’s pace, making my heart sputter and throb within my chest, escalating into what I’m almost certain is a heart attack when Oleander takes a threatening step towards me.

“I would caution you against speaking with such open hostility towards any of us while you’re here, little one,” they widen their grin until it stretches and splits their features into something truly wicked. “You’re in our realm now and it would be such a shame if you weren’t able to find your way back out, wouldn’t you agree?”

Whatever glamour had been hiding the more unpalatable aspects of their features faltered enough for me to momentarily see pieces of their true face, flickering in and out of focus between my shallow breaths. Jagged, translucent teeth cut out from inky, black gums. Eyes too large for the delicate slopes of their face and entirely black and bottomless replace their attractive, glowing amber irises, and their skin, once passable for mortal, smooths and darkens, deeper than a starless night sky, absorbing light rather than reflecting it. I clench my teeth as hard as I can and swallow the scream trying to claw its way up throat.

Then, as though nothing had even happened, the fae tilts their head sideways and laughs, elegant and refined, like I’d just told them a humorous personal anecdote. Their features settle back into familiar beauty and they even wink at me, instantly evaporating any remaining tension they’d held less than a second prior.

“I’m only teasing, of course. You are perfectly safe here, regardless of how poor your manners may or may not be.” After all that, I honestly don’t think I retained the ability to speak, so I just dip my head in a way that I hope pacifies whatever conflict I caused and move to step around them on trembling legs. Oleander blocks my hasty getaway once more, and this time I strongly consider spinning on my heel and sprinting towards the exit until I get back to the safety of the parking lot. I can’t leave Renée, though.

“Ah, I apologize. You mortals can be so fun to play with,” they continue, “but it’s your first time visiting and I’ve soured your impressions of the market.” I’m not sure what they want me to say, but when I don’t respond, Oleander rolls their eyes and beckons towards a stall not far from where we’re standing. It’s made of a lovely, light wood with a shimmery, holographic grain. There are three large, indigo coloured cases open, facing outward so market shoppers have a clear view of their contents. Though, even before Oleander herds me forward, I can clearly see they are stuffed full of rings.

“As a token of goodwill, I gift one of my wares to you, whichever you’d like, free of any charge.” My gut practically somersaults at that. Everyone knows; in the fae realm, there is no such thing as free.

“I appreciate the sentiment and your offer but I can’t accept-“

“Nonsense!” Oleander interrupts, slipping behind their stall and taking a seat on a stool I hadn’t noticed. “You must choose one, I insist.” They’re smiling again, sharp and predatory, their eyes gleaming triumphantly as though they’re about to win a game I wasn’t even aware we’d been playing.

“Any of them?” Oleander nods enthusiastically, leaning forward as I desperately comb through all my knowledge on fae bargains and try to think of a solution. The rings in the cases are all gorgeous and seemingly unique. I have a feeling that if I were to slip any one of them on, they’d somehow each fit me perfectly. But at what cost, I wonder. Oleander clears their throat and reaches to straighten the cases, plucking imaginary lint from their crushed velvet exteriors as I struggle through my deliberations.

A thin, plain band of lavender gold encircling one of their slender fingers catches my eye, and I make an idiotic, spur of the moment decision.

“Fine. If you insist, I choose yours.” Oleander’s head snaps up so fast I startle a little, but force myself to remain as nonchalant as possible. “Please,” I add, for good measure.

In my mind, I’ve saved myself from whatever curses or nefarious agendas come attached to the displayed rings. After all, Oleander wouldn’t be wearing their own little accessory if it carried some kind of tricky, sinister magic, right?

However, when I take in the noticeable gape of their mouth and the tangible aura of disbelief billowing around them, I’m robbed of any certainty.

“Mine?” Their voice is strained, on par with my nerves, but I force a nod, too far in to back out now.

“You said I could pick any one of them and-“

“I know what I said, human,” Oleander sneers, though their gaze drops entirely from mine and they begin to fidget with the delicate band around their long index finger, biting their lip momentarily as the cogs work in their mind. I have no idea why, but sympathy blooms in my chest and I can’t help but offer an alternative.

“It’s fine! I don’t want anything from you, I just need to find Ren- uh, my friend.” My teeth grind anxiously when I almost reveal my best friend’s name to this terrifying creature. Obviously being here has exhausted me because I’m already slipping up. I want nothing more than to snatch Renée back and get the fuck home, but until this stupid situation is resolved, I can’t seem to move away from their stall.

“I am, regrettably, bound to my promise,” they glare at me, slowly trailing their gaze up and down my form in the way one might observe a particularly disgusting bug. “Are you absolutely certain of your choice?”

Their thumb strokes over the ring in question, and I watch the corners of their dewy lips pinch downwards as I confirm my decision. The pit in my stomach continues to grow as they slip the polished circlet off and extend it towards me, grimacing as though they’re the ones being handed a potentially cursed object. Just as the band drops into my palm, I hear Renée’s cheerful voice call out my nickname.

A tidal wave of relief washes over me, increasing tenfold when I’m able to break free of whatever invisible influence had me tied to Oleander’s stall and move towards her. She’s already gushing about her various purchases, excitedly showing me panels of gorgeous, bright fabrics, and tiny, jewel toned drawstring bags protecting small trinkets and accessories that glint under the natural light.

“I’m so glad we came! Also, I’m surprised you wanted to stay so long!” A wry smile contorts my face and I shake my head.

“You’re hilarious, Ren. It’s barely been twenty minutes. I can’t believe you managed to find so much crap in such a short amount of time.” Renée gives me a weird look, cocking her head slightly.

“What are you talking about? We’ve been here all afternoon.” Cool sweat beads at the back of my neck and slicks my palms.

“Shut up, we have not.” Renée laughs and playfully flicks my arm.

“Babe, look at the sky. The sun was right above us when we got here and now its over halfway to setting.” She’s right, of course, but I don’t want to believe it. “Are you okay? Where did you even go, I couldn’t find you! I wanted to show you this one booth full of weird clocks but I couldn’t see you anywhere.”

Twisting around, I’m about to show her Oleander’s stupid stall but it’s not there.

“What the fuck,” I’m looking around, frantically scanning the market like I’m playing a timed game of “Where’s Waldo”, and the clock is about to run out, but it’s as though Oleander and their collection of rings were never here. Renée is beside me, rubbing my shoulder and saying something, but I don’t hear her.

Balling my fists, something pinches me and I open my palm to reveal the delicate, pale purple band they gifted me, settled innocently atop my skin.

“Let’s go home.”

#monster story #fae x reader #fae x human #I have so many wips but I’m nervous to post them bc I’m not a very practiced writer #please let me know what y’all think #excuse any spelling/grammar mistakes #I did my best to look through and edit but there’s always something

159 notes · View notes

laviethepooh · 3 years

Text

falling for the devil | kaeya x reader [pt. 1 halloween event '21]

summary. the ragnivindr halloween party goes a little unexpected when you meet a man dressed as the devil

ft. kaeya and lisa + jean besties

cw. modern!au, flirty kaeya

wc. 1.2k

notes. yeah lisa and jean's costumes are their normal clothes i'm very original. also kaeya calling you petnames jsdkjfskjd (i asked my friend to beta read this and she really thought lisa was lisa from blackpink help-)

parties at the ragnvindr house didn’t come by often. but when you received the news of a halloween party being hosted there, your friend lisa begged that you and jean come along, because it would be a good chance to “liven it up a bit.” you knew that lisa would need someone to care for her after partying too hard so you decided you’d go. jean reluctantly agreed to go afterwards, and lisa dragged the two of you to the nearest costume shop. lisa had already decided that she wanted to dress as a witch and jean had settled on a knight costume. “go for something a bit sexier, jean,” lisa had said when jean came out of the fitting room and the young blonde shook her head saying it would not be appropriate. lisa suggested that you dress as an angel for halloween and she said that she had all the clothes for the costume. you shrugged and agreed.

now that the 31st of october rolled around, the three of you met at lisa’s house to travel together. when lisa opened the front door to let you in, you could see that lisa and jean were already in their costumes. lisa had created her own costume from purple material and her dress was paired with high stockings and gloves. to top it all off, she had a violet large-rimmed hat. jean’s costume was not an obvious one, but the prop sword at her side and the gold accents made it easier to tell that she was dressed as a knight. lisa grabbed your hand and dragged you into her bedroom. the two of your friends helped you get into your costume and urged you not to look in the mirror until they were finished.

“all done, now you can look!”

you carefully opened your eyes and looked up and down at the costume. you couldn’t deny how well put together the costume was. the fully white outfit was elegant yet comfortable, and it showed a bit of skin (undoubtedly lisa’s idea), and you had white-feathered wings on your back. you adorned gold slippers and a gold halo headband which brought the costume full-circle. you had to admit, you looked incredible.

“i must say, y/n, you look amazing! you exude the innocence of an angel; what a darling,” lisa squealed and you could see jean nodding in agreement behind her, “but we must get going, we wouldn’t want to be late to the party, would we?”

it was turning to dusk when the three of you finally reached the mansion. it was your first time going to a ragnvindr party much less even going to the ragnvindr house. you heard that these parties went from dusk to dawn and it was very intense. they said that diluc ragnvindr was the host, but he was never to be seen at the actual party. the real star of the show was his step-brother, kaeya alberich. another person who you had never met, but you heard the rumors that he was a massive flirt.

“alright, are we ready to have some fun?” lisa asked when the three of you reached the door.

“yeah, let’s get this party started!”

lisa laughed, “that’s the spirit, y/n, now let’s go!”

the moment lisa opened the door, you heard music blasting and people chatting. the lights were bright and people were dancing everywhere. you could see food tables set up and halloween props and balloons everywhere. there were so many people, the whole grade must have been in here. but as you looked around, you could barely tell who anyone was in their costumes.

“i’m off to the dance floor, come with me, jean.” lisa grabbed jean’s hands and dragged her into the crowd with a mischievous look in her emerald eyes.

ah, now you were alone in a party where you barely knew anyone. you made your way from the doorway to a corner where there was a table for drinks. at least you wouldn’t be alone. the music was too loud, the atmosphere was suffocating, and you didn’t even have anyone to talk to. you looked for your friends, but they were lost in the crowd. perhaps you should have joined them on the dance floor as well.

“hey, angel, would you care for a dance?”

you whipped your head around at the sultry voice, and next to you stood a tall man, definitely over 6 feet tall, dressed in an all-red suit. one quick glance told you that he was dressed as a devil with his horns and the tail peeking out from behind him. you chose to avert your gaze when you saw that his suit was slightly open giving you a peek at his tanned chest. the mysterious young man had steel blue hair that was tied into a long ponytail and had bright cerulean eyes. well, eye, since his right eye was covered by a red eyepatch.

you blinked up at him. was he asking you? you looked around to see if there was anyone else, but the other people around you weren’t even looking at the two of you.

“i’m asking you, angel,” he chuckled and you felt your cheeks flush at the nickname. it probably was just because you were dressed as an angel though.

“i-i suppose so.”

you mentally facepalmed. you get asked if you want to dance by a hot guy and you respond with the dumbest reply. you’ve already messed up and you haven’t even gotten to the dancing part yet.

he held out his gloved hand and you took it, surprised by how soft his grip was when he clutched your hand. he practically swooped you off of your feet as he led you to the dance floor. the song was slow and quite clearly meant for couples dancing. (which was strange, wasn’t this a halloween party?) you felt panic rise up in you as the two of you started to sway to the music in sync.

you could feel the eyes on you. the numerous people watching you dance with this man. this man whose name you didn’t even know. he led you through the dance and you kind of just followed along clumsily. you couldn’t bring yourself to look up knowing that your face must have been bright red. you could hear him chuckle from above you.

“why so shy, angel?”

his teasing only made you flush further. god, you must have looked so ridiculous right now. slow dancing while looking at your feet the whole time. despite this, you were still enjoying yourself somehow. you couldn’t wait to tell lisa and jean that you scored a dance with someone like him. how you even did it, you had no idea. you were just some random person in a costume but he had chosen to dance with you. it was almost as if he had read your mind when he next spoke:

“there’s nothing to be so self-conscious about. you’re the prettiest one at the party, you know that?”

if you thought you had reached peak embarrassment before, this was the one that had really done it. you unknowingly leaned your head against his chest to hide your face. you couldn’t even say a single word to him knowing you’d just fall apart. you could hear his smile as he said the next words.

“my my, you’ve really fallen for the devil, haven’t you, angel?”

#lavie.txt #series [halloween event '21].exe #genshin impact x reader #kaeya x reader #genshin impact #kaeya #genshin impact x y/n #kaeya x y/n #modern!au #i 100% believe in kaeya calling you angel #y/n is awkward as hell but y/n is literally me-

71 notes · View notes

stolen-pen-name23 · 3 years

Note

“It’s not that bad.” “You’re [bleeding out/burning up]!” With hurt Obi-wan and Padme? (please, i want them to be besties so bad)

Coalmine!!! Thank you for the prompt, I also want Obi-Wan and Padmé to be besties.

From these prompts//prompts now closed

Here ya go!

A Jedi and a Senator walk into a bar.

No, this is not the setup of a bad joke, but rather, the setup for an assassination attempt.

“It’s good to see you, Obi-Wan,” Padmé says over the din of bustling patrons and clinking glasses.

The two of them like to catch up from time to time. In their meet-ups, Padmé will discuss her frustrations with issues in the senate and Obi-Wan will offer his sympathies. Obi-Wan will tell stories from the war front and Padmé will kindly pretend she doesn’t see the way he dances around the darker details.

This is why they like to catch up over drinks.

“It’s good to see you too, Padmé.”

Here, all titles and formalities are dropped. He is not Master Kenobi and she is not Senator Amidala. They like it better that way.

Today’s visit is a more somber affair than usual. Obi-Wan and the 212th have been put on a mandatory week of leave after a devastating battle in the outer rim. The pain of it is evident in the slope of his shoulders and the furrow of his brow.

“There is to be a vote soon,” Padmé says.

“Concerning?”

“Concerning relief efforts.”

“Oh?”

“Some of us want to set up an additional fund for civilians. A nest egg for those unfairly affected by the war.”

“And I assume there are those who don’t wish for that?” he asks wryly.

“You assume correctly.”

He hums. “I’m glad you are in support of it. It’s necessary after… after everything.”

Padmé gives him a scrutinizing gaze. “The mission you were on… it was difficult wasn’t it?”

“That’s one way of putting it.”

“Are you okay?”

Obi-Wan takes a sip of his drink. The amber-colored liquid makes his cheeks turn rosy, but his eyes remain clear. “The war takes its toll on all of us,” he says softly.

“I hope you’ve been taking care of yourself. So many Jedi…”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan says before she can finish the thought. “Many Jedi have been lost to the war. So have many clones and civilians.”

“I mourn for them,” Padmé says. “But I’m glad you are not one of them.”

Obi-Wan takes a sip of his drink and Padmé isn’t sure if it’s because he’s mourning for them too or if it’s because he wishes he was one of them. She raises her own glass to her lips, but before she can take a drink, Obi-Wan is tackling her to the ground.

She’s looking up at him in wild bewilderment and he is looking down at her with eyes focused for battle.

“Hide,” he commands before clambering to his feet. A steady hum accompanies an electric blue beam of light.

Screams and the sound of breaking glass erupts in the establishment. Padmé scrambles behind the bar and peers over its surface at the scene before her.

Obi-Wan is deflecting blaster bolts from a bounty hunter dressed all in black, but people still run around in every direction. The added variables give him enough pause for the bounty hunter to get in a lucky shot. The blaster bolt hits its intended target square in the gut and Obi-Wan takes a few staggering steps backward.

“Obi-Wan!” Padmé yells.

If he hears her, he does not acknowledge it.

The bounty hunter aims his weapon higher, closer to Obi-Wan’s heart, but this time the Jedi does not falter. He raises his own weapon and lets the bolt ricochet off of his blade, burning a hole in the wall behind the bounty hunter. With a twitch of his fingers, Obi-Wan raises a metal napkin holder and hurls it at the bounty hunter’s head. The hunter staggers backward, giving Obi-Wan an opening. He rushes forward and just as the hunter has regained his bearings and re-aimed his weapon, Obi-Wan pierces the man’s heart.

It is over as quickly as it began.

Obi-Wan pulls his lightsaber from the man’s chest and disengages it. The hunter falls to the ground in a lifeless heap and Obi-Wan clutches his stomach, blood already pouring over his fingers.

“Oh,” he says as if he has just realized he is wounded.

“Obi-Wan!” Padmé exclaims, rushing from her place behind the bar. He locks eyes with her for a moment before stumbling forward. He slumps over a high-top table that is unsteady and unprepared to take the weight of a full-grown man. The table crashes forward, taking a stunned Obi-Wan down with it.

A huff of air escapes his lips from his new position on the ground and he rolls onto his back.

“Obi-Wan,” Padmé whispers, kneeling beside him and cradling his head in her lap. She can feel his body shudder. “It’ll be all right, Obi-Wan.”

“‘Course it’ll be all right,” he says. “I killed the assassin. You’re safe now.”

“No,” Padmé says, and she suddenly understands why Anakin is always so frustrated with him. “I meant you will be all right. I’m calling for help.”

“Oh,” he says again.

Padmé flips open her comm. “Anakin?”

“Padmé? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” Anakin asks, immediately aware from the tone in her voice that something is amiss.

“I’m fine, Ani. It’s Obi-Wan. He was shot.”

“It’s not that bad,” Obi-Wan murmurs.

“You’re bleeding out!” Padmé fires back.

“Slowly. I’m slowly bleeding out.”

“It still sounds like you’re bleeding out,” Anakin says nervously through the comm.

Padmé ignores Obi-Wan and speaks into her comm. “Just get here Anakin.”

“I’ll be there soon with a speeder. Just sit tight,” he reassures her. The comm cuts out and Padmé refocuses her attention on Obi-Wan. She rips off a piece of his robe and presses down on the wound.

He closes his eyes and clenches his jaw in a tight grimace.

“I’m sorry,” Padmé says. She extends her free hand to him. “You can hold my hand if you want.”

He accepts it gratefully and Padmé does not complain about the tightness of his grip or the stickiness of the blood staining his fingers.

She holds his hand until Anakin arrives.

#my writing #thanks for the prompt!#prompt fill #obi wan kenobi #padme amidala #obi wan and padme rights

122 notes · View notes

soclonely · 2 years

Note

BESTIE HOW DO YOU END UP WITH SO MUCH RAVIOLI????

I BET GRIM WOULD DO IT TOO🗡️

The Clones as Things Grim Has Probably Done or Went Through in the SW Universe

Rex- sleep deprived due to fear of Skywalker shenanigans.

Echo- Rolled her eyes at Obi Wan for judging her lack of patience, as he proceeds to turn around and have a meltdown for his tea not heating up fast enough.

Fives- Runs away from Coruscant Guard

Jesse- bad Space Haircut that results in her being tagged in the Garden Bounty Hunter Arc instead of Obi Wan

Kix- somehow adopted by Hondo Ohnaka for 3 weeks

Tup- went apeshit when she sees Krell before Umbara

Dogma- Sharpie Face Tattoo with Ahsoka on Anakin when he falls asleep

Hardcase- makes 300 raviolis instead of 20 when trying to impress Ahsoka with a fancy dinner

Coric- drops Earth curse words like my granny when my grandpa has holes in his socks (she hates it)

Bly- ILLEGAL JEDI MARRIAGE ILLEGAL MARRIAGE

99- becomes friends and big sister to all the younglings in the temple

Cody- drops lightsaber

Waxer and Boil- ope. Probably has adopted 8 children by mid rebels timeline

Wolffe- forced to go on a shopping trip with R2 and C3PO that results in a 4 day trip to the outer rim

Boost and sinker- panics the first time she has to use the star wars version of the sink, shower, or potty and gets water all over the refresher

Hunter- always trying to hide the new weapons she gets from her Jedi master

Wrecker- blew up an entire separatist ship during a recon mission because she hit a switch, thinking it was the lights

Tech- look you just want your iphone to work so you can take pictures to show everyone back home

Crosshair- becomes swamp witch

14 notes · View notes

binunus · 3 years

Text

needy | mj (m)

a/n Y’ALL MYUNGJUN GIVES OFF GOOFY BESTIE ENERGY BUT HE’S EQUALLY A HOT MOTHERFUCKER SO I HOPE YOU GET SOME MMM GRR BARK BARK FEELINGS FROM THIS LIKE I DID

{request: Hii! I hope you are well! :) I was wondering if you could do a Scenario about the reader and Mj from astro smut like the reader just wants attention but Mj is just too* busy* but when he finally gives in, he's kinda pissed off because you're being a brat and he's kinda harsh when you know...but at the end he is super sweet and makes sure the reader is okay. Idk if it makes sense but yea. Thank you 💕💕}

→ pairing: bf!myungjun x fem!reader

→ genre: smut, fluff at the end

→ warnings: this is basically a pwp like i just got right into it mm, choking, spanking, reader calls myungjun sir !!!, slight degradation, unprotected sex (cover your stump before you hump kiddies), rimming??? anal fingering??, semi-public?? sex?? practice room sex, mirror sex

→ word count: 1.7k

______________________________________________

Your POV

You stared at your boyfriend with a pout, sitting at one end of the practice room with your arms crossed and legs hot. You’ve been wet for the better part of an hour now, wanting nothing more than for your boyfriend to finish his extra dance practice so that he could fuck you senseless in the comfort of your home.

To be fair, you sorta knew what you were getting into. Watching Myungjun dance always somehow turned you on, he just looked so sexy when he was focusing, especially when he brushed his sweat-filled hair back to get a clearer look of his movement in the mirror.

But you promised him you would behave. He needed to get this new routine down and he didn’t want any distractions from you while he was in the zone.

“Junie, how much longer?” You whined as he took a little breather, resting his hands on his knees. He panted, giving you a smile as he stood to stretch, “Almost done bub, promise. You only have to hold out for a little bit longer.”

He knew that you were aroused, you always were when you watched him practice. Believe him, he would much rather be in bed with you right now, but that was for after he finished this practice.

You leaned back against the chair with a sigh, pursing your lips together as he played the music once again, starting over with the routine from the beginning. Good things come to those who wait, but unfortunately for you, you hated waiting, especially when you were so turned on you could die.

Ten minutes turned into twenty, which turned into thirty, and by the hour mark, you couldn’t just sit still anymore. Myungjun was still practicing, completely forgetting about you and the passing time as he poured his all into the routine.

Subtly, you inched your way closer, Myungjun noticing your movement immediately in the corner of his eyes. “What are you doing?”

“I’ve been sitting for almost three hours, just wanted to move my legs for a bit.” You answered simply, hands behind your back. “Carry on.”

“I’m almost done,” He reminded you, to which you nodded passively. “Bub, are you upset?”

“No,” You shook your head, “I mean, you said you were almost done an hour ago, but it’s fine.”

“Bub,” Myungjun sighed, approaching you, taking your hands in his, “I’m sorry, but I need to ace this routine by tomorrow. I appreciate you waiting patiently for me bub, I really do.”

“You’ve been working hard until now, I think you deserve a little break.” You said encircling your arms around his neck. He chuckled, hands finding your hips as he kissed you quickly on the lips. “My break will be when we’re back home.”

He tapped you lightly asking you to let go, but you weren’t going to give in easily now that he was in your vicinity. You tightened your hold around his neck, lips moving along his jaw as you pressed your front to his. “y/n.”

“Take a little break, Junie.” You whispered between kisses, not minding the salty taste of his sweat as you began to suck on his neck. Myungjun bit the inside of his cheek, the feeling of your lips on his skin stirring some movement in his pants. He released a breathy sigh, letting himself indulge in your actions for a bit.

In a sudden, you pulled away, sneaking a hand down to give the front of his pants a squeeze before you turned your back to him, walking to the side and taking a seat against the mirrors. Your boyfriend gave you a baffled look, “Carry on with your practice, Junie.”

You smiled innocently at him, a teasing lilt in your voice as you noticed the growing hardness in his pants. Myungjun returned to his dance practice, but you knew it would only be a matter of minutes until he gave in, once he grew hard, his restrain practically disappeared. Your next actions were planned out strategically, your eye contact never straying from his as you spread your legs unashamed, hands resting at the base of your inner things.

Just as you expected, Myungjun only lasted one more run through before he stomped up to you, pulling you up roughly and pressing you against the mirrors. You squeaked in excitement as he stared at you intensely, leaning in until your foreheads were touching. “That was a dirty move, princess. I can’t focus now because of you.”

Instead of responding, you connected your lips in a searing kiss, your hands immediately slipping under his shirt to feel the expanse of his skin. Myungjun held you tightly against the mirrors as he ground his hips into yours, making you feel the outline of his bulge with every movement. You keened, moaning into his mouth as your nails scratched against his abdomen. “Can we go now?”

“No,” He said gruffly, his hand slithering up your body and wrapping around your throat, his fingers pressing into the sides of your neck. “You just couldn’t wait a little bit longer so I’m going to fuck you here right now.”

You whined as he flipped your body around, your cheek pushed against the mirror as Myungjun hastily pulled your leggings down, your ass bared out in the open of the practice room. You braced yourself, palms on the mirror to hold your weight as he delivered a harsh smack to your bottom, the sound ringing loud and clear.

Your body jolted with every spank, eyes shut tightly as the sting quickly morphed into pleasure. Myungjun groped your ass firmly, cursing at the red imprints that his hands made after every strike. Your cunt was absolutely soaked, your slick trailing down the inside of your thighs. This, of course, didn’t go unnoticed by your boyfriend, the male cupping your heat as he spread your legs further apart. “Shit princess, you’re dripping on the floor. You wanna get fucked that bad?”

“Yes sir.” You panted, jutting your ass back in desperation, “Please fuck me.”

Not letting another second go to waste, Myungjun pulled down his pants to let it pool around his ankles, lining his tip up with your entrance. He ran his length up and down your folds only once before pushing in, letting out a groan as your walls enveloped his cock. You screamed as Myungjun immediately thrusted at a merciless pace, not allowing you any time to adjust to size, not that you really needed it anyway.

Your hands balled into fists, focusing on Myungjun and Myungjun only. The sounds heard in the practice room were obscene, the skin of his pelvis slapping against your ass bouncing on the walls.

You didn’t even bother to mask your moans, too lost in the pleasure of Myungjun’s cock fucking you against the mirrors. At a particular hard thrust, your legs suddenly caved in, causing his length to slip out as you dropped onto the floor.

Without giving you a moment to breathe, he swiftly got onto his knees and entered you again, this position giving him more leverage as his thrusts were more precisely aimed, battering the deepest parts of your cunt.

You moaned as Myungjun spread your cheeks open, his thumb probing at your second entrance. Immediately, you clenched the hole, ears ringing as he let his spit dribble onto the cleavage of your ass, using it as lubrication before he pressed his thumb into your tight hole.

Your mouth opened in pleasure, panting as your muscles adjusted to his thumb, the added intrusion only making your walls tighten around his cock. God, you felt so full.

Myungjun started fingering your ass in time with his thrusts, cursing as you moaned his name like a mantra. His free hand harshly pulled at your hair, your neck straining as he forced you to look up at the mirror.

Your cheeks flushed at the sight, your clothing disheveled as Myungjun pounded into you from behind, sweat covering his face in a light glowy sheen.

“You like this, princess? You like getting fucked where anyone can walk in and see how much of a filthy slut you are?”

“Yes,” You groaned, throat raw from all your screaming, eyes threatening to close from Myungjun’s intimidating stare.

“Yes what?” He gritted his teeth, letting go of your hair as he delivered another spank to your ass. Your head fell forward, leaning on your elbows as you responded to him. “Yes sir.”

“That’s right, princess.” He said lowly, keeping his thumb plugged in your ass hole as he started ramming into your cunt. His pace was bruising, the two of you nearing your highs.

You let out a high-pitched scream when his fingers reached under to rub at your clit, your vision turning spotty as the band of your orgasm quickly snapped. Myungjun groaned as your walls fluttered around his cock, the grip your cunt had pushing him to his impending release.

His hips didn’t relent as his seed spilled inside of you, fucking you both thoroughly through your orgasms. You moaned in sensitivity as you felt his cock pulsating, your body collapsing onto the floor when he pulled out, your limbs skin to jelly.

Myungjun sat back on his palms, trying to catch his breath from your quick little fuck session. After about a minute or so, your boyfriend stood and pulled his pants up before going to the table to grab a couple of tissues. He returned to where you laid glued on the floor, gently wiping the mixture of your releases from your cunt and ass, “C’mon bub.”

He helped you onto your feet, making a noise of surprise as you leaned onto him for support, legs still weak. “You okay?”

“Mhm,” You nodded, still feeling the after effects of your orgasm as you hazily tried to wear your leggings again. Myungjun laughed, holding you up by your waist as he pressed a kiss to your temple, “Are you gonna practice again?”

“I think I’ve had enough practice for today.” He smiled fondly, walking you both to your things. “I can fine tune it tomorrow with the guys. For now, I think it’s time for us to go home.” ____________________________________________

2-12-21

86 notes · View notes

kurlyfrasier · 3 years

Text

Terrified: Part 4

Raph x Reader

Synopsis: Raph saves you from ruffians one night in an alley after watching out for you for weeks without you knowing. Which leads you to getting to know the guys and becoming part of the family. But Raph keeps a distance and you don’t understand why.

Word Count: 1708

Warnings: None

I woke up later than intended- much later, as in waking in the afternoon later- red-eyed and weary from the tears shed the night before. I had decided, once I had calmed down enough to think beyond losing the boys- most especially Raph- that tonight would be my last movie night. At least, for a while. I also planned on telling them they need not walk me home after work. Granted, I had no idea how I planned on convincing them that they weren’t needed.

Maybe I could tell them I’m moving? Getting a new job?

I sighed, looking into the mirror. If tonight was going to be my last night seeing Ra- them, then I would make the most of it. I decided I would look my best, without looking desperate...hopefully. Sadly, this meant I did not get to start my new book since l only had about an hour until Mikey would be here to pick me up. Yet another reason to stop burdening the boys. Regretting the fact that I wouldn’t get to wear pajamas like I usually do on movie nights, I trudged to my closet.

A little over an hour later Mikey found me in the middle of brushing just a tad bit of make-up on; to cover up my red-rimmed eyes.

“Whoa angelcakes,” he drawled once I stepped out of the bathroom, eyeing my long, fitted sweater dress- because it gets cold in the lair- and warm leggings with comfortable Chuck Taylors.

See? Not desperate. Comfy.

“Raph is gonna lov-” He stopped himself short when I gave him a quizzical look. “I mean, you look hot, dudette. Got any plans tonight?” he wiggled, what one would call, his eyebrows, erupting a giggle out of me.

“Only to hang out with my besties, that’s all,” I shrugged, grabbing my phone, hoping he wouldn’t comment about my not-so-usual outfit once we got to the lair. I really did not want it made more obvious than it already is.

“Sounds like the best plan, but are you sure you don’t wanna bring pj’s for after?”

“I’m sure, Mikey,” I smiled reassuringly up at him as he plucked me up out of the window and onto the roof. “These are just as comfortable as pajamas, promise.”

“Okay then, let’s go,” he helped me onto his shell. “Can’t wait to beat you in a new racing game I got,” he hopped from roof to roof, holding me tight. I couldn’t help but compare his smaller, bulky size to Raph. I don’t think I would have been able to hold on to his shell quite as well.

“You’re on, man. But don’t come crying to me when you lose.”

He barked out a laugh and we stayed silent until we got to the man-hole cover.

“Hey, angelcakes,” Mikey started sheepishly when we got to the bottom of the ladder, scratching the back of his neck. “I wanted to ask…”

“Yeah?” I gave him an encouraging smile.

“Did somethin’ spook you last night?” He blurted out.

“No,” I furrowed my brows, confused about where this is coming from. Unless…

“Raph said you were running for your life after you got off the subway. I just wanted to make sure everything is okay.”

“Oh,” I tried thinking of an excuse, averting my gaze. “I just didn’t want to be a burden, is all.”

Not a complete lie.

“A burden?” He looked shocked as I turned toward their home and started walking that way, hoping to hide my despondency. “You’re not a burden, angelcakes! Besides, before that night in the alley, Raph was already-”

I stopped in my tracks as Mikey sauntered ahead.

“I mean, we like making sure you're okay. We don’t want a repeat of that night we first met,” he continued rambling, but I wasn’t listening. I wanted to know what he was gonna say about Raph. After a few steps he realized I wasn’t next to him anymore. “Come on, Y/n. Don’t want ya to get lost.”

I nodded, unwilling to ask my question as we continued our trek to the lair. I took a deep, calming breath to brace myself before entering the living room area where I knew Splinter, the wonderful father that he is, would be prepping for homemade pizza. Donnie had made an old brick oven not long ago and built it directly underneath a grate above that they only opened when baking pizza so the smoke would have an escape. I found it ingenious because now they could have pizza whenever they wanted. Which was always. A small smile formed at the thought.

Not five steps in and Raph blocked my path, arms crossed as he assessed me for injuries. I stared straight into his chest, unable to meet his all-seeing gaze. He would know something was wrong the moment we made eye contact, he always did.

“Bro, she’s fiiiine,” Mikey sang, lightly punching Raph’s shoulder as he walked by. “I would never let anything happen to her. She is my precious sister, after all.”

Raph ignored him, grunting in approval with a curt nod before walking away. Allowing me to breathe again, not realizing I had held my breath in the first place.

~~~~~~~~~~

Raph was anxious to see you. He had been attempting to work it off all day, to no avail. Everytime he closed his eyes he saw you, standing in front of him, looking small, keeping your thoughts to yourself.

He growled in frustration, clenching his hands into fists. If only he knew what had you so utterly shattered last night.

He needed to see you.

He needed to know you were safe.

Raph breathed out a sigh of relief when he heard you and Mikey coming, but stopped short when he saw what you were wearing. Vaguely, he wondered where you had come from to be looking so good. That red sweater stuck to your form as if it was painted on. It may have covered almost every inch of skin from your thighs up, but it hardly left room for the imagination. Thos leggings did the same.

Where were your baggy pj’s?

Robotically, he blocked your path to determine if you had been hurt. Really though, it was all a ruse. He just wanted to have a good look at you. He crossed his arms over his chest to keep himself from holding you close. The fact that you wouldn’t meet his gaze had his blood running cold. You always at least gave him a tentative glance and a smile. Next to him, Mikey said something about you being his precious sister, but all he could think was that you were his precious everything. He didn’t even feel his brother’s light punch as he walked by.

He grunted as if saying “that’ll do” and walked away, wishing he knew what was wrong. Wishing he could make it all better.

“I’m gonna go help Donnie with something before we play, okay Mikey?” You spoke barely above a whisper before heading to Donnie’s lab.

The moment you were out of sight he rounded on Mikey. “So wha’ didya find out?” he growled in in his face.

“Nothin’, bro!” Mikey held his hands up in surrender, backing away. “She said something like not wanting to be a burden. I don’t know. She was kinda quiet though. I barely got her to smile.”

“But nothin’ ‘bout wha’ scared her?” he asked low, peeking around to make sure you hadn’t decided to come back.

“Nadda. Just said she didn’t wanna be a burden. I told her she’s not. That we like takin’ her home, but,” he paused when he noticed Raph shaking, stiff as a board. “Uh-oh…”

Raph stomped away toward Donnie’s lab, barely able to comprehend what Mikey was telling him.

You? A burden?

Never.

He planned on shaking you to your senses until he heard what you were saying to Donnie.

“...gonna take some self-defense classes so you guys don’t have to walk me home anymore. What do you think?”

Raph leaned against the wall, going to a whole new level of low with eavesdropping. He decided it was worth it if he could figure out what was wrong.

“We could teach you,” Donnie offered offhandedly. “Besides, we like taking you home. We can actually have a conversation as we protect you.”

“Nah, you guys are busy as it is,” you paused. “Plus, I don’t want to bother you guys even more.”

“What are you talking about, Y/n?” Something clattered, a sign that you have Donnie’s full attention. “You’re no bother. Did something happen?”

“No, nothing happened,” you sighed before continuing quietly. “I just- I might be getting another job-”

“You’re a terrible liar, you know that, right?” Donnie chuckled in an attempt to lighten the mood. “Is this about last night? I heard you were running from something.”

“Ugh! I wanted to get home faster! That’s all,” you fumed, stomping a foot, demanding why the boys kept asking you about last night.

“We’re worried, Y/n,” Donnie stated calmly. “You spend a lot of time with us. That could make you a target. Especially if anyone figures out how much you mean to Ra- uh… us.”

“Fine,” you seethed. “I’ll stop hanging out with you guys, then. That way nobody will have to worry about my safety.”

Donnie’s call for you fell on deaf ears as Raph snuck into the darkened room across from the lab, your steps echoed down the hall. He sunk low in the shadows and held his head close to his knees, eyes shut tight in a sad attempt to keep the tears from flowing freely. He couldn’t breathe. His heart felt as though it were being shattered into a million pieces.

You were leaving? The thought ricocheted through his brain.

What had happened to bring this about? Everything was fine until last night.

Maybe someone got to you already? The thought had his blood boiling. Allowed him to breathe. He had a purpose; to find out what happened in the ten minutes you were on the subway. He was determined to keep you close. Keep you safe. No matter the cost. Even if he had to lock you in his room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 5

#tmnt raph fanfic #tmnt #fanfic #raph x reader #my writing #raph #raphael #leo #mikey #donnie #splinter #angst

45 notes · View notes

eutxrpe · 4 years

Text

counter

hello! i hope you guys enjoy this fic and that you’re doing well! my inbox and messages are open, so don’t be afraid to send something in! - xio ⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆ counter -a play where the offense runs the ball in the opposite direction that the defense expects. usually preceded by a fake in the opposite direction of the actual play.-

pairing: football player!midoriya x nerd!reader

word count: 2.2k words

warning: swearing, fluff ⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆ you didn’t want to be here.

here at this party where sweaty bodies moved on the floor as if they do that every night. where lips and skin met in a drunken haze and where the bass pounds so loud that you’re getting a worse headache by the minute. brought here by your friend and promptly left alone because they spotted the love of their life, you just wanted to curl up with a blanket and a book. preferably away from all of these people who didn’t even know you were alive.

sitting down in the corner, you look down at your red solo cup filled with water and look up at the sound of a dozen boys chanting across the room. your eyes scan the scene as you think about an escape plan but stop when you see him.

everything around you and him seems to blur except for him. you know who he is, the running back of u.a high’s football team.

izuku midoriya. or deku, as it was printed in every newspaper, social media post, and jersey he had. with his always overgrown, dyed green (you had a feeling his natural hair was black) undercut and innocent smile, everyone just loved him.

he finishes a solo cup filled with whatever popular people like to have in their cup and slams it down on the table, his teammates smacking him on the shoulder and back as he grins. izuku exchanges handshakes and claps with everyone on his team, going around the table and even ruffling a fiery, blonde guy’s hair. in the midst, you two lock eyes.

you immediately look down at your cup, sipping it in an effort to calm yourself down. out of the corner of your eye, you see him searching if there’s anyone with you and excuses himself from the group. there’s a figure in front of you in seconds and you crane your head up to look at him, cursing his height.

“hey, are you okay? i noticed that you’re here alone.” there’s honesty in his eyes that made you fall the slightest bit into the calm jade of them.

“you don’t have to worry about me, golden boy. enjoy your party and your drinking.” ignoring your words, he sits in the corner next to you, bumping his thigh with yours.

“tomorrow’s homecoming. i’ve been drinking lemonade and water tonight.” midoriya holds up another cup and you snort at his good boy act, tapping the rim of it with your own drink. you take a gulp of it, trying to get the heat from your face to leave. “why are you here?”

“what? i can’t enjoy a party?” midoriya frowns at your response as if you hadn’t just started your first conversation with one another.

“you’re not really enjoying denki’s party. or you’re dancing in the corner and i hadn’t noticed?” you laugh into your cup at that, continuing to listen. “this doesn’t really seem like your scene.”

humming, you turn to his earnest eyes. “and why not?”

“(y/l/n). i know you’d rather be drinking hot chocolate and reading a book.” your eyes widened, and he grins in victory. curse that innocent smile of his.

“how did you know that?”

“i pay attention to the people in the school. that includes you.” he flushes as he says this, taking a sip of his own drink.

“i’m here because my best friend left me to see todoroki. and maybe do more than that.” you chuckle bitterly. “what about you, midoriya? why are you at kaminari’s place?”

“he’s my teammate, and i want to support him. but this isn’t where i’d like to be either.” you turn toward him in surprise when midoriya finishes.

“golden boy doesn’t like parties? that’s something new.” he scratches the back of his neck, blushing at your statement, but his eyes change a little when he smiles sheepishly. they’re still the beautiful jade hue, but there’s a little less innocence in them.

“why do you call me golden boy?”

“isn’t it obvious? you’re a football player with a perfect track record and everyone loves you. the school’s golden boy who wouldn’t do anything out of the ordinary.” midoriya makes full eye contact with you, his big, pure eyes not matching the playful grin on his face. his freckles stand out against his tanned skin, sunkissed from all of the hours in the sun for football practice.

“i’d like to think of myself as a wild card... since being a running back requires a lot of different things from me.” midoriya seems more confident, taking up more space in the corner as he says this. you gulp at how he overpowers and towers over you, but you still can’t believe his words.

“yeah?” looking him in the eyes with all of the determination you have, you poke him gently on the shoulder with your finger. “what can you do that proves that you’re not what i think you are, golden boy?”

you calling him golden boy again sparks something in him, eyes racing across your face and landing on your lips, the bottom one in a pout, a habit you never got over since childhood. midoriya leans forward and kisses you, and your heart finds a race horse and runs rampant. his hands capture your waist, and yours land in his hair.

now, you’ve never seen your football team play, much preferring quiet time to the crowd’s headache-inducing cheers, but you imagine that deku plays just how he kisses.

fast. passionate. there’s a hint of roughness that makes your head spin as his lips dominate yours. he tugs at your bottom lip, making you whine before retreating.

wiping his bottom lip with his thumb, he smirks at you and damn, you no longer regretted coming to this party. “was that evidence enough, (y/n)?”

before you could answer, the blonde that got his hair ruffled by midoriya comes up to you two.

“deku, we need to leave if we want to be the fuckin’ best for the homecoming game.” he sneers, looking at you two, specifically izuku’s swollen lips. “finally got a kiss, you fucking loser? ha, c’mon, we’re going now.”

“kacchan, you bitch.” there wasn't any bite to his words, and the way that the two grinned at each other made it obvious that they were close. midoriya kisses your forehead softly, contrasting with how rough of a kisser he actually was to your surprise and delight. “i’ll see you soon, okay? have a safe night.”

and with that, he disappears into the crowd and the door-slamming, thanks to the blonde, signals that they both left.

how loud the party was didn’t apply to you anymore. not with deku’s words replaying in your mind.

i’ll see you soon.

did he really mean that? and how would you two even see each other, considering that you’re in two different cliches at school?

and as you waited for your bestie to come out of that room, preferably without visible marks todoroki gave them, izuku midoriya was all you could think about.

maybe parties weren’t so bad... ⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

“kacchan?”

“what is it, deku?”

“i need you to find out where this student’s locker is for me… by morning.”

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆

“did you enjoy the party last night? i know i forced you to go…” your best friend, in a turtleneck that wasn’t theirs, chats with you as you walk to your locker.

“yes. i know you forced me to go, because i didn’t enjoy it for the most part.” you don’t blame them for forcing you to go, considering how much of a homebody you are, but they quirk an eyebrow at your words.

“for the most part? what happened? did you meet somebody? is that why you looked so dazed when i met you afterwards?” used to their questions, you look down at your lock, twisting it open and frowning at the scratch marks on it.

“yes, for the most part. i’ll explain later. yes. y-”

a gasp at your side makes you snap your head up as you’re inspecting the freshly made marks.

on a shelf in your locker, there’s a bunch of your favorite candy and snacks in u.a high’s school colors, along with a note that you take into your hands. of course, the school spirit made it obvious who it was from, but the golden boy of the school wouldn’t break into your locker, so what exactly happened?

your best friend takes the note before you could read it, clearing their throat before reading it out loud.

“dear (y/n), -on a first name basis already, hmm?-

i hope you don’t mind that kacchan (number 1 on the team) mutilated your lock, so i could get in. like i said, i pay attention to the students at our school, especially the ones that i like. a lot. i hope you enjoy the snacks whenever, and if you turn around, there’s an important question i’d love to ask you.

signed, your golden boy!”

when you turn around, there’s deku, holding a teddy bear that’s bigger than both of you that has a blue and white ribbon tied around its neck, standing right in front of you. his eyes are tearing up, and he holds the bear out to you as he asks, “will you go out with me?”

you didn’t have to think about the question.

“yes, golden boy. i’ll go out with you.” as you answer, you take the bear from his hands and kiss his bright pink cheek in thanks. izuku picks you up suddenly, making you drop the teddy bear, and spins you around in a hug, elated with the fact that you said yes. he quickly sets out you down, sensing your surprise and apologizes. your best friend snickers in the background, and you have the urge to tell them to shut up. before you could do anything, the bell rings, and the hallway clears out, including them. you turn back to your locker, getting your books and notebook for social studies.

“wait! (y/n)!” you face him, intrigued on what else he could ask after such a way of asking you out. “you don’t have to do this… but will you wear my jacket to the game today?”

you didn’t have plans to head to the homecoming game, but you couldn’t say no to your golden boy’s face. nodding, his face lights up, and wow, his smile is radiant when he’s happy. taking off his letterman jacket to reveal a muscle shirt that reads ‘loose top’, he hands it to you. maneuvering your books so you could get it on, izuku moves to your backside, helping you get your arms into the holes. you are enveloped in the scent of rain, mint, and cotton. it was relaxing. it was so distinctly izuku.

“thank you, izuku.” at the use of his first name, his face turns even more pink. afraid of stammering out a reply, he kisses your forehead in goodbye, and the press of his plush lips against your skin makes you fall just a bit further for him. deku jogs off as the late bell rings, bringing you back to reality. ⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆ it’s the last ten seconds of the game, and it’s the first time you’ve cared about the outcome of a football game in a long time. you hug izuku’s jacket closer to your figure as u.a sets out on the field after a timeout. looking out in the crowd, izuku makes eye contact with you in the stands and places his hand on his heart.

the whistle blows, and you cheer louder than you’ve cheered the whole game. the ball moves from one pair of arms to the other and it lands in izuku’s arms. the announcer is practically screaming into the mic, reenacting the surprise play.

“u.a high just performed a counter against shiketsu! after receiving the ball from the quarterback, kirishima, number nine, deku, is lightning out there, already halfway to the goal line! nobody can touch him as he gets closer!... and he’s done it! u.a wins the homecoming game!”

there’s chaos around you as people scream for the team and hug in the stands. you can see izuku remove his helmet to wipe tears from his face as he hugs his teammates. you lock eyes again and with teary eyes, he still managed to send you one of the biggest smiles you’ve seen from him.

and you’re filled with such energy that you don’t care anymore, you rush from out of the stands and onto the field, running to wrap your arms around him in a hug. tossing his helmet to the ground, you can feel his arms tug you impossibly closer to him. his hands pick you up by your waist and you put your forehead against his, both of you laughing and crying in a haze. you can hear the chants of the crowd to kiss and feel the field lights on you, but it didn’t matter when you were so close to izuku that your breaths were practically one.

was it possible for love to blossom in one day?

you couldn’t bring yourself to care about that question when it was so obvious that it was with him.

you tug him by his jersey into a kiss, passionate and loud. it was a blissful moment, everything fading away except the two of you until you had to inevitably pull away for air.

“i love you,” izuku pants, adrenaline fading away and you smile in his arms.

“i love you too.”

you weren’t expecting any of this, especially the fact that izuku managed to win both the homecoming game and your heart with just a counter.

fin.

#bnha modern high school au #bnha #my hero academia #bnha imagines #izuku midoriya #bnha izuku midoriya #bnha x reader #mha x reader #Izuku midoriya x reader #football player izuku #bnha fluff #bnha x reader fluff #midoriya x reader

238 notes · View notes