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Hughes Your Daddy? - Jack Hughes
hahahaha finally
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If I get 10+ comments/asks ill make a part 2
Yes, that's me bribing you, I want more interactions
w.c: 3,007 (credit to gif maker) (don’t steal my work)
The last few weeks of college are the worst weeks of a student's life. There’s nothing but studying, finals, and pure hell. Yet, when Ellen Hughes calls and tells you to get on a flight to Vancouver to be present at the Hughes Bowl, you fucking get on a flight to Vancouver.
The flight itself is terrific; you study a bit of your flashcards, drink some hot cocoa, and even get in a solid half-hour nap. You honestly feel a little sad when the intercoms go off, and they announce your descent into Canada.
The sadness washes away quickly when you clear the clouds and realize how excited you are. This trip, tomorrow’s game, is a very, very special event. Each Hughes brother will be playing on the ice tomorrow night, and you’ll be sitting, as requested, in the Hughes box overlooking it all.
As soon as the 737 touches down, you’re quick to switch your phone off airplane mode. You appreciated the few hours of bliss without endless notifications, but life has to go on. As soon as the iPhone gets service, a flood of messages rolls through. One from Ellen, to which you respond. Two from Quinn, which you answer. And 36 messages from Jack, which you ignore.
You should respond, and you will, but first, you have to get off the plane and find your favorite chauffeur.
Without further delay, you exit the plane, grabbing your carry-on and swinging your backpack over your shoulders. You smile at the few flight attendants on the way out and throw an extra thank you to the woman who gave you some extra cookies when she saw your flashcards.
The Vancouver airport is bustling, and you can’t help but feel the positive vibes radiating from the space. The entire airport is decorated for Christmas, and you’re reminded why it’s ranked one of the best airports in North America.
You make your way to the baggage claim, checking your phone to ensure you’re heading toward the right spot. You are, and while you’re walking, you pass all the cute little shops. You see a couple of little knickknacks, and you make a mental note to pick up something on your flight back. Now, however, you must focus.
The baggage claim area is pretty full, and you’re dodging people left and right. You’re unsure in the sea of people where Quinn might be hiding until you hear your name shouted from somewhere to your left. You turn your body, and there he is, waving a bit and standing with a small smile.
“Oh my god, is that Quinn Hughes?” You say in mock shock as you get within his earshot. “The newest captain of the Canucks and Vancouver's most precious gem?”
He rolls his eyes back as far as he can when you approach, but nonetheless, he pulls you in for a hug.
“Please stop.” He groans out as your part and takes your carry-on from you.
“Never.” You smile as he leads you out of the airport.
It takes mere minutes to get to the car, and you both catch up about whatever. It’s been months since you’ve seen Quinn, and whenever you’re with him, you’re reminded why he might be your favorite besides Ellen and Jim, of course.
As soon as you are settled into the passenger of Quinn’s car, he reaches back behind him and pulls out a small gift bag.
“Here, before I forget.”
You give him a questioning look, and he just gives you a slight smirk.
“Just open it. It’s more of a gift to everyone else.”
You squint your eyes a bit suspiciously but pull the tissue paper from the bag. As soon as you do, you see the familiar blue and white colors, and a laugh burst from your lips.
“Oh my god.” You shriek out, laughing, pulling the Canucks jersey from the bag.
You both immediately start laughing, and you can hardly contain yourself.
“Of course, you don’t have to wear it for the game.” Quinn says. “but he’s gonna flip if he sees you wearing it when they get here.”
You scan the Jersey and agree with the boy next to you. Your boyfriend is very possessive when it comes to jerseys, and he hates everything that isn’t red, black, or white and doesn’t have Hughes 86 plastered on the back.
“Oh, this is gold, Quinn.” You say, tucking the jersey back in as Quinn moves the car out of the lot.
“Ma and I thought so, too. She said it might humble him for the night.”
Speaking of humbling your boyfriend, you reach for your phone and go to text him back. You scan the many messages and roll your eyes at a few. Most of them are him just wanting attention, but the last one catches your eye.
we’re 2 hours behind ur flight. No fun or smiling before I get there
You read the text allowed to Quinn, who rolls his eyes at the statement, and you’re quick to shoot a response back, telling Jack that it’s too late and you’re having the best time ever.
————————-
As soon as you step through Quinn’s front door, you hear a happy yell, and Ellen is pulling you in for a long-awaited hug. You practically melt as she squishes you, and the happiest of laughs exits her.
“Oh, my sweet girl, I’m so happy this worked out.” She says to you, pulling back just enough to look at your smiling face.
You look behind her as Jim is standing nearby, waiting his turn. You give Ellen one less squeeze and then turn to the original Hughes and give him a big hug.
“Hey, kiddo,” He says. “Glad you’re here.”
As soon as you say your hellos, you move to get your stuff settled into your room. As quickly as you can, you throw your stuff down and pull on the New Jersey, making your way back out to the kitchen.
As soon as you enter, Jim laughs, and Ellen raises her hands to her mouth.
“Oh, Jack is gonna hate it.” She turns to Quinn and laughs, using him to steady her.
“Oh, we know.” You say, high-fiving Quinn as you grab a cup of some water.
As soon as you get your water, you all settle into the living room, and questions are flying left and right. You talk about school, work, and whatever else comes to mind about the time you’ve spent away from them. They hang onto every word, and you can’t help but smile. You’ve always been close to Jack's family, but when the one-year mark passed, it’s like they fully accepted you as one of them. Now, almost two years in, Ellen and Jim treat you like the daughter they never had, and they tell you often how much more they like you than any of their sons. You always laugh, but you know deep down that you are special to them. And that fact alone makes you consider yourself one of the luckiest girls.
“They just landed,” Quinn announces. “Almost showtime.”
Ellen winks at you from her space on the couch, and you settle deeper into the comfortable space, counting down the seconds until your boyfriend walks through the door.
—————————-
About half an hour later, you hear loud commotion as the door swings open and Jack and Luke enter the building. It takes less than three seconds for Jack to yell.
“Where is she?”
You laugh at him and yell back from the living room. “I’m in here.”
In mere seconds, Jack is in the room, making a beeline toward you. It’s the first time you’ve seen him in a month, and you won’t lie; he looks pretty good.
You make your move and step off the couch, going to hug him, but he halts in his place a few feet away, giving you a once-over.
“Get that shit off you.”
As soon as that leaves his mouth, everyone busts out laughing, and Jack gives you a less-than-impressed look. You feel a bit bad, so you give him a small smile and lift the jersey off your frame, revealing a Devils t-shirt underneath.
As soon as you throw the jersey away, he takes two long strides and engulfs you in a hug. You thought that nothing could beat Ellen’s hug, but Jack's grip nearly breaks your back.
You pull away after a second and pry him off of you. You love him more than anything, but you’re not about to show massive amounts of PDA in front of his parents, who are sitting a few feet away.
He gets this because he lets you go and gives his parents and brother a quick greeting, then leads you away from the living room. Everyone allows it to happen, and you find yourself in the privacy of the bedroom.
“You’re funny, but you better have my jersey for tomorrow night.”
You let out a small laugh and cross the room again, linking your hand behind his head and pulling him closer to you. His hands find home on your waist, and his fingertips dip under your shirt a bit, gently squeezing.
“I promise, J,” you grin. “I’ll do my best to show support to the losing team.”
He releases a soft gasp and gives you a slight look of betrayal.
“Losing team?”
Your grin goes even wider. “Check that stats, bud. You’re in a bit of a losing streak.”
He narrows his eyes a bit, and with one quick motion, he grabs your frame and tosses you on the bed. He enters attack mode, lays his entire weight on you, and begins grabbing at your sides. You, of course, go into defense mode and fight to push him off. You fight for power for a minute before you pull your defining move. He gets close, too close, and you give him your best doe eyes. The second he catches your stare, he folds, and he puts himself at your mercy.
For the first time in a hot minute, you pull him to meet you; the second his lips are on you, you implode. It’s been too long, and there is nothing more comforting and familiar than the boy lying nearly on top of you. You kiss him for a minute, your lips molding perfectly together before you pull away, gently patting his face.
“I think your family would like to see you.”
You push him away again as he rolls his eyes.
“I see them enough.”
He goes back to try to kiss you, but you push him away, putting a finger to his lips and shaking your head.
“Come on.”
He lets out an annoyed huff and removes himself from the bed, pulling you up along with him. You make your way back to the family room and laugh yourself into the family events.
Soon, you’re all playing board games, and you find out very quickly reminded about how sore of a loser your boyfriend is. You play board games cards, and when it gets late enough in the night, you all make your way to the living room for a movie.
You watch something light-hearted, and you can’t help but feel bliss as you’re tucked into Jack's side, surrounded by the entirety of the Hughes family. It’s a nice moment, and it’s the times like this that have you thankful you’ve stuck with the boy at your side.
——————
Before the sun rises, Jack's alarm blares next to you, and you can only groan at the noise. Alarms are truly nothing but an escape from bliss, and you wish you could stay forever in this little bubble. You’re warm comfy, and you don’t mind the boy you’re cuddled next to.
But alas, he is a slave to hockey, and he presses a quick kiss to your lips and swings himself out of bed. You follow a few minutes later, moving at a sloth pace. Instead of getting fully ready, you make your way downstairs to where the smell of bacon is wafting through the house. You’re almost giddy as you see Ellen and Quinn making breakfast, and you get even happier when Ellen places a steaming mug of coffee in front of you.
“You’re an angel, thank you.”
She gives you a big smile and pours another cup for herself. As soon as you catch the time, you offer to take Quinn’s place with the cooking, to which he gladly accepts and runs off to shower and get ready for the big game.
As soon as all the Hughes boys are out of earshot, you get down to business.
“I’ll raise to fifty on the Devs.”
Jim scoffs at your bet. “I love ‘em, but I disagree. Offense has been a bit sloppy. I’ll raise to a hundred on the Nucks.”
You quirk your eyebrow, then turn to the Queen, who seems to be pondering.
“I’m sorry (Y/N), but I think I’m gonna say Nucks too.”
You let out a soft groan but hold your ground.
“Alright. Final bet is a hundred. Winner takes all.
You all shake hands, sealing the deal.
As if you weren’t up to gambling, you act as naturally as possible as the three boys enter the kitchen. Each one is clad in a suit, and it warms your heart to see them all together. They look adorable, and you can’t help but laugh when Ellen demands a picture. They oblige, but like every other photo they take, it slightly looks like they’re being held at gunpoint. But you win some, you lose some.
Eventually, you’re all fed, happy, and once another alarm goes off, you know it’s time. You say your goodbyes to the boys, wishing them the best of luck. You hug Quinn, do your secret handshake with Luke, and press a quick kiss to Jack's lips.
Once you finish, they say their goodbyes to their parents and make their way toward the door, but they don’t get far before Jack pulls you toward him one last time.
“You ready to watch me destroy Quinn?” He teases.
You roll your eyes, pushing him away with a laugh. Nonetheless, you give him one last peck, swat his ass, and yell one final encouragement as he heads out the door.
“Don’t embarrass me!”
He flips you the bird as he gets into Quinn’s vehicle, and you smile and give him one back as you head back into the house.
You sit back down to finish talking with the parents l, and time ticks by faster than you’d like. Soon enough, it’s time to get ready, and you throw on your devil's jersey. You say a little prayer and hope they all do good. Things like this don’t happen often, and you hope it’s simply a good game.
———————
You smiled as wide as you could as the three Hughes brothers posed for a couple of pictures. You could see the distaste on all their faces, but they did it anyway.
Once they do the appropriate media, the game begins, and you’re sitting on the edge of your seat. It’s a good game, no, a great game. Soon, the first period is almost over, but not before your boyfriend has to remind everyone who he is, and he scores a goal.
It’s known that the Hughes parents don’t show much emotion at the games, and even more so when it’s their sons playing on opposite teams. So you control yourself, but you don’t miss when Ellen squeezes your hand.
The game continues, and it’s a nail-biter. Each minute you watch, you get more and more tense. Maybe it’s because you’re just nervous, or perhaps it’s the fact you have a hundred bucks on the line. But either way, you pray the clock ticks faster.
It doesn’t, but once Luke scores, you can’t help but start to think that this might be the end of a losing streak. You laugh on the inside because, of course, all it takes is a little brother rivalry to get the Devils back into motion.
———————
When the clock hits zero, and the Devils win, you practically die in your seat. You’re so thrilled for Jack and Luke, but a small part of you is a bit depressed for Quinn. But you know, if anyone can handle a loss like this, it’s the eldest Hughes, so you’re not too worried. Instead, you focus on your boyfriend, who, even from the box, looks the happiest he’s been in a while. He was given the title of the first star of the game, and you absolutely love it when he’s like this. You know he’s going to be in one of those unstoppable moods. You love it, but he can be a cocky little shit, and you know he’s going to be almost insufferable. You’ll take it, though, and embrace every part of it.
A few minutes later, the area starts clearing, and you’re all getting ready to leave the box, but you almost forget what is happening when Jim slides you a crisp hundred-dollar bill and winks at you.
“Jack really pulls out the stops when you’re at a game.”
You let a blush creep onto your face as you take the bill. You’d be lying if you said that you felt bad. This isn’t the first game you’ve bet on against Jim, and it certainly won’t be the last.
“Alright, you two gamblers, let’s go see the boys, shall we?”
Ellen leads the three of you down to where you’ll see the men of the hour. You feel the happiest you’ve felt in a while as you follow behind them, and when you get close enough, you can hear your boyfriend laugh from a short distance. Your heart skips the noise, and as soon as he spots you from across the room, he moves as fast as lightning to get to you.
#hockey#hockey boys#imagine#nhl imagine#hockey fic#hockey imagine#hockey x reader#nhl hockey#nhl x reader#jack hughes#jack hughes x reader#jack hughes imagine#luke hughes#quinn hughes#new jersey devils#vancover canucks#nhl blurb#nhl fic#nhl players#nhl#hockey blurbs#canucks hockey#devils hockey
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Lookalike
Soft Dom!Joel x Fem Reader
Summary: Joel stumbles upon your dirty mag, noticing your favorite pages bear a striking resemblance to himself! Takes place in Jackson sometime after TLOU
Word Count: 4.6k
Warnings: 18+ MDNI SMUT!!! This is not fluffy even a little bit, kind of pervy joel, kind of sleazy too, smut, female masturbation, cunnilingus, soft dom!joel, shy reader, consensual PIV sex, humiliation kinda, joel loves a full bush, begging, joel is dominant but not like, aggressive?? let me know if I missed any
A/N: Y’all, I am very very very proud of this one! Please enjoy this depravity. And have a lovely holiday weekend <3 I am just a few shy of 1k followers, but consider this my thank you for all of your support 😸💗
Edit: we’re at 1k!!! Thank you so much holy shit!!
If you really like this story, please leave me a comment! Check out my masterlist
Javier Peña is Joel’s pornstar doppelgänger. I don’t make the rules.
After a long day, Joel was ready to relax and enjoy a bonfire with you. It’s how you spent a lot of summer nights in Jackson, you and Joel and sometimes Ellie just sitting around the fire, sharing stories and shooting the shit.
Tonight Ellie was at Dina’s having a sleepover, leaving just you and Joel together. It was nice to spend nights alone with Joel. Sometimes you’d talk about anything and everything and other nights you’d just share a comfortable silence. After everything you went through on your way to Jackson, it was nice to enjoy some peaceful nights with Joel.
Upstairs, Joel changed into some plaid pajama pants and a slim fitting t-shirt and made his way through the hall and to the top of the staircase, his heavy footsteps alerting you of his presence.
“Joel?” you shouted to him from the kitchen. You were preparing a snack in preparation for the bonfire. “Can you grab me a hair tie please?”
You were peeling apples and slicing bread to make pudgy pies for you and Joel to share. It’s one of the campfire snacks he introduced to you and Ellie. Back before the outbreak, he said, people would use canned pie filling or peanut butter and Nutella as filling for the toasted sandwiches. Now you had to get more creative, so you opted for spiced and sugared apple slices. You preferred berries, but apples were Joel’s favorite filling for dessert. You didn’t mind. He used to make these for his daughter.
“Where can I find one?” he called back.
“On my bedside table, right by the lamp,” you stepped closer to the staircase so you didn’t have to raise your voice as much. “It should just be a plain black one.”
Joel nodded and walked to your room. At your bedside table, he didn’t see any hair ties. Just some jewelry and a comic book Ellie lent you that she wanted you to read. Perhaps it was in the drawer?
Joel opened the drawer and rummaged around your belongings. There was a bottle of your favorite almond scented lotion from the local soap maker, your journal and some pencils, but no hair tie. He should have called out to you to ask if there was another spot your hair tie might be at, but curiosity got the better of him. He knew it was wrong to snoop through your personal belongings, but he couldn’t help himself.
Joel pulled the drawer out a little further and lifted your journal up. His eyes widened at what he saw. It wasn’t your hair tie, that was for damn sure.
Under your journal was an ancient porno magazine, probably from the 70s or 80s. Joel didn’t bother checking for a date. He had to know what the hell was in this old ass magazine that you were using to get yourself off. He remembered these kinds of magazines from when he was a teenager. They were often tacky and somewhat over the top compared to the explicit videos he’d watched on the internet before the outbreak, but they did the job. Who was he to judge?
Joel sat on your bed and flipped through the pages of the magazine. There were women in frilly chiffon lingerie with bushy and unkempt pussies, just the way he liked them. That was one nice thing about the outbreak, a lot of women ditched the beauty standards of the 90s and 2000s and went au naturale. Joel loved it as a young man then and he still loves it now, decades later.
The magazine nearly flipped itself open to one particular centerfold. It was a man fucking a woman from behind, her back arched and hair covering her face. They were at the edge of the bed, her fingers gripping the retro floral duvet cover. She was beautiful, but it wasn’t her who captured Joel’s attention. It was the man.
He was tall, dark, and handsome with a thick downturned mustache, not unlike Joel’s. He had dark hair and dark eyes as well. Even his nose was similar to Joels, strong and sharp with a curve. Joel couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight. The pages were worn and the corners were dog eared, leading Joel to believe that these must be your favorite pages. His ego soared, as if it needed to be any bigger. He always had a feeling that you had a thing for him.
Downstairs, you were growing irritated. “What is taking so long?” you muttered to yourself. Joel was taking forever to find the hair tie you had so neatly placed next to the lamp on your bedside table. After turning off the burner of the stove, you paced through the kitchen and up the stairs.
“You are such a man, you know? You guys are terrible at looking for things. If it was a snake it would have bit you,” you grumbled out, half talking to yourself and half talking to Joel. You opened your mouth to continue speaking as you walked into your room but froze when you saw Joel on the bed, thumbing through the pages of your dirty secret.
“I found your spank bank,” Joel taunted with sarcasm, not yet looking at you. He flipped through a couple more pages before turning to face you, his intense stare meeting your flustered expression.
You were frozen in embarrassment, completely unable to speak, unable to move. Your face felt like it was on fire and you could hear your heart pound in your ears.
Joel’s low and gravelly voice filled the silence. “Didn’t mean to embarrass ya, baby. It’s okay. Human nature,” he winked at you with a crooked smile.
You quickly stepped over to him and tried tugging the magazine out of his hands, but he held on tightly. “Joel,” you pleaded as your sweaty fingers slipped off of the paper.
“Ah, ah, ah,” he chided you. “This dude here kinda looks familiar, doesn’t he?” Joel looked at you with a knowing expression as humiliation filled your chest. Yeah, he looks just fucking like you. Leave me alone.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Joel,” you muttered angrily. You were about to burst into flames, whether from embarrassment or anger you didn’t know. You didn’t care. How dare your body put your shame and embarrassment on display? You were giving Joel exactly the kind of sick satisfaction he absolutely did not deserve.
“Oh, baby. I think you know exactly what I’m talkin’ about. Look at how you’ve dog-eared these pages,” he used his pointer finger to trace the bent triangles at the corners of the pages. “Guy looks just like me, doesn’t he? Is that what you like so much about these pages?” his southern drawl had your stomach doing flips. “I know they’re your favorite, magazine practically opened right up to them.”
You ignored his question. “The pages were like that when I found the magazine,” you tried lying, but it was a futile attempt. This was bullshit. Joel was the one who was caught red handed, and yet you were bearing the brunt of the humiliating situation. Only Joel Miller could spin this situation to work out in his favor.
“Sure, sweetheart,” you reached for the magazine again, but Joel pulled it out of your reach. “You know baby, you didn’t have to fantasize with a dirty old magazine if you wanted to fuck me. All you had to do was ask.”
You said nothing, just glared at him. Joel wore a loathsome smirk as he wiggled his eyebrows at you.
“Wish I knew this is what you were usin’ to get yourself off at night. All those pretty noises, all this time. They were all for me, weren’t they?”
Any words you could think of got caught in your throat, it felt like dry swallowing a pill. You just looked at Joel with pleading eyes, begging him to stop making you feel like a fool. If you weren’t so embarrassed, you’d be yelling at him for rifling through your private belongings and calling him presumptuous asshole for insinuating you fantasized about him. Of course, he was entirely correct in his assumption. You were completely and utterly infatuated with him. Even when you weren’t using his doppelgänger to get yourself off, you were thinking of him all day long.
“Please,” you finally choked out, feeling tears prick your eyes. You couldn’t take any more of this torture. “Just stop.”
“Oh, sweet girl,” he spoke with a soothing tone. Joel placed a hand on your thigh and twiddled his fingers along the fabric of your pajamas. “You know I’m just gonna keep buggin’ you until you tell me what I want to hear.” Joel looked at you with his sparkling brown eyes, darkened with lust. “So what do you like about these pages, baby?”
Turning your face towards your lap, you whispered your response to his prodding question. “I like the way he’s fucking her,” If that’s all it’d take to make him stop, might as well spill your guts.
“Yeah, I do too. It’s sexy, isn’t it?”
“Mhm,” you mumbled, glancing at the familiar image. Joel was 100% right. Those were certainly your favorite pages. You didn’t even need them anymore, the picture was tattooed on your brain. “I like how the man looks.” you admitted with bravery.
“I bet you do. Because he looks like me, right?”
You nodded your head shyly. You couldn’t believe yourself, giving up and letting Joel win. He’d never let you live this down. But maybe if you butter him up a little he’ll let you off easier. “You’re more handsome, though,”
“Oh, baby. Gonna make me blush,” Joel replied to you with a saccharine smile. He really did seem genuinely flattered by your comment. “This is really what you look at when you’re playing with your pussy?”
“Yeah, kind of,” you say, feeling some confidence fill your chest. “I pretend it’s you fucking me like that.”
“Is that right?”
“Mhm,”
“You’re such a good girl for me, baby. I like knowin’ you think of me like that,” he praises you for finally letting go of your embarrassment. He doesn’t only want to tease you. If this is what you fantasized about, he was gonna make your dreams come true.
Joel takes one of your hands in his own and moves it to your center, pressing your fingers against your core. You gasp at the feeling of your wetness on your pajama pants. “Think you can do somethin’ for me?”
“What?” you murmur.
“I want you to give me a show, baby. Show me how you touch yourself when you’re lookin’ at that magazine,” Apprehension fills your bones once again at his words. “Don’t be nervous, sweetheart. I just wanna see how pretty you look when you come. And after you do that, I’ll fuck you just like how he’s doin’. What do you say?”
“Just like, touch myself?” you laugh awkwardly at his request. This cannot be happening. Right?
Joel sets the magazine down and helps you to the top of the bed. He leans you against the pillows and kisses your lips for a second, and every time his tongue mingles with your own your anxiety melts away, little by little. This is all so surprising, maybe he does really want to make you feel good.
He kisses you gently and with care, using his lips to encourage you to let go again. He kisses the side of your mouth, then your jaw, your neck, and down your body before lifting up your pants and looking at you expectedly, asking permission to remove your clothing. You nod and he helps you out of your pajamas. It’s all so sudden and you feel exposed, all naked and laid out for Joel.
“You’re beautiful,” Joel says earnestly as he takes one of your wrists and guides your hand to your needy pussy, encouraging you to show him what you look like when you’re whimpering at the thought of him in the middle of the night. You don’t touch yourself yet, though. You cover your center with your hand, slightly embarrassed by the thick tuft of hair surrounding your vulva.
“I haven’t shaved in forever,” you say sheepishly. It’s kind of silly, worrying about body hair at the end of the world. But you can’t help it.
“That’s alright, sweetheart” Joel says as he reaches for the magazine and flips to one of the first pages he saw, a woman spread eagle with her full bush on display. She’s smiling and radiates confidence. “See? It’s a beautiful thing. It’s how they’re meant to be.”
You’re skeptical. “Do you really think so?”
“Of course I do. I love your pussy, it’s beautiful just how it is,” Joel grips your thighs and parts your legs, and your fingers gently drop to touch your dripping center. Joel reaches forward and places his hand over yours, helping you circle your clit with your middle finger. It’s slow at first and you squeeze your eyes shut, still feeling slightly awkward. Masturbating for someone else to watch is completely different from sex. You feel vulnerable, like you’re being studied under a microscope. You don’t feel that way for long, though.
Joel continues to help you circle your clit until he senses you becoming more confident, then removes his hand to watch you do your thing. Your fingers swirl around your hole as you gather your slick, then travel up again to rub your clit in those same circles he helped you create. You let out little gasps and whimpers, and it’s music to Joel’s ears. Finally, he has an image to match with the moans and other noises he hears from your room.
Usually you can get yourself off fairly quickly but with Joel in front of you, it takes a little longer. You open your eyes and peek at him. His dark and hungry eyes are focused on your center, but they flick up to your own. He smirks devilishly at you for a half second then goes back to watching your actions, almost obsessively. He is obsessed.
The sight of him pushes you closer to the edge, and he watches your pussy twitch as you finger your clit even faster. His expression changes then. He’s no longer looking at you with adoration and lust. Joel looks angry and jealous, with a furrowed brow and a scowling frown. You tilt your head slightly in confusion but before you can think Joel lunges forward and rips your hand away from your cunt, pinning it next to your torso.
“Let me taste you?” he whispers. You nod hurriedly in response. Lick me, touch me, do anything.
He presses a kiss to your clit and you gasp in surprise. “This is my pussy now,” he growls. Now that he knows what you look like touching yourself for him, he can’t just sit there and watch you anymore. Joel’s desperate, he needs to make you come. “From now on, you’re only gonna come when I say so. Do you understand?”
You mumble incoherently and Joel swats your thigh, not satisfied with your answer. “Do you understand?” he repeats, his voice dark and serious.
“Yes, Joel,”
“Good girl. You just relax now, let me take care of you,” he instructs you. Your head falls to the pillow, and you let out a soft exhale as Joel wraps his strong arms around your thighs and pulls your pussy to his face. Joel inhales your scent deeply, enjoying your aroma.
He licks a long stripe from your slick hole all the way to your clit, flattening his tongue against you. He licks every inch of you, memorizing your folds with his deft tongue. When he’s satisfied with the way he’s worked you up, he focuses on your clit, flicking it with his tongue before inserting two fingers inside of you.
“Joel,” you gasp out, hands reaching for his salt and pepper curls. Your thighs clamp around his head and he removes his hands from your body to spread them out again.
“You stay open for me now,” he commands. He plunges his fingers back inside you and curls them upward, hitting that spot that makes your knees weak and your eyes see stars. You moan loudly when Joel’s lips attach to your clit once more, this time gently sucking on the sensitive bud. He’s drunk on your taste, completely addicted to your flavor. His tongue continues dancing on your center and you pull him close to you, rutting your hips into his face. Every once in awhile you swipe his nose and he uses the opportunity to dip and twirl his tongue inside of you.
This is the best way to eat pussy, Joel’s learned. Find out what makes her tick and keep doing that, let her grind on his lips and nose. Right now, your wish is his command.
You reach down and grab his not working arm to bring it towards your breasts. Joel picks up what you’re putting down immediately and trails his hand over your breasts, pinching and twisting your pebbled nipples. That’s all it takes to have you coming in his mouth.
You cry out his name as you buck your hips into him, fighting the urge to push him away when the feeling becomes too intense.
Joel doesn’t allow you to catch your breath. He flips you on your tummy and drags you down the bed, his fingernails pressing into your skin. “You did so good for me, baby. You gonna let me fuck you now? Just like you pretend, right?” He pulls his shirt over his head and steps out of his pajama pants behind you.
“Yes, Joel, please,” you whine.
“I like hearin’ that. Keep beggin’ for me,” Joel demands as nudges your thighs apart with his knee. He teases your slit with the tip of his cock, painting his precum on your skin. He pushes the tip inside, not yet dipping all the way inside you.
“I need you,” you sob with desperation.
“Need me to what?” He knows what you need, but Joel’s gonna make you spell it out to him.
You let out a groan of frustration and back your ass into his hips. Joel chuckles at your annoyance. “Come on now. Tell me what I want to hear,” he repeats his words from earlier. “Put that pretty mouth to use.”
“I need you to fuck me,”
“There you go. Was that so hard?”
Joel wraps his hands around your hips, his fingers digging into your lower stomach and his thumbs pressed firmly into your lower back and slams his hips into you. His fingernails leave dents in your skin.
You yelp at the sudden contact, not expecting him to go so hard and fast. His thick cock stretches you out and you can feel the tip hitting you deep inside.
“Always knew this pussy would feel good,” he mumbled behind you, beginning his firm pace.
You arch your back into him, using your body to tell him what you need. You love the way he feels, so strong and holding you so tight. It really is a fantasy come to life. “Don’t stop, please,” you cry for him.
“Mmmm,” he hums. “You love this cock, don’t you?”
“Yes, Joel,”
“That’s right. It’s all for you, baby,” he continues pounding into you.
Joel stops for a second and flips you over on your back. He apologizes, “Sorry, sweetheart. I know I said I’d fuck you like them in the magazine but fuck, I gotta see you,” he says. “Can’t let you hide those tits from me anymore.”
Joel pulls your legs up and places them over his shoulders, opening you up even deeper for him. He lets out a moan at the change in position.
He admires the way you look, all of it just for him. Your half lidded eyes, mouth open and spilling out moans and obscenities with every snap of his hips. You’re completely fucked out.
You reach down to thumb your clit and he smacks your hand away. “What’d I say earlier? You come when I say. I didn’t say, did I?” he scolded you.
“N-no,” you stutter out.
Joel takes your wrists into his hand and pins them above your head. “Can’t trust you, sweetheart. Thought you were gonna be a good girl for me,” He snakes his other hand between your thighs and circles your sensitive clit with his thumb ever so lightly. Torturing you with what could be and never giving you more.
The wet squelching noises of your pussy and the slapping sound of skin hitting skin have your head spinning. Joel fucks you at a merciless pace, frenzied and desperate. He’s savoring the way you’re squirming under him, straining your wrists against his locked grip. He knows it’s agonizing, almost painful the way you’re aching for release. But he’s determined to teach you a lesson.
“Please,” you choke out. “Just make me come,”
“I don’t know that you deserve it, baby, Touchin’ yourself to that picture of my lookalike? That’s awful selfish of you,” he chided you. “Depriving me of this?”
“Joel,” you whined. You’d do whatever it took to get some release.
“Tell me how long you were needing me,” Joel panted. “Weeks? Months?”
“I don’t know. Forever,” you admitted. “I need to come now, please.”
“Forever? I wish you said somethin’ earlier, baby. You wouldn’t be in this mess,”
You didn’t know how much more you could take. Tears of frustration were streaming down your cheeks, each of his thrusts hitting deep and massaging your insides. You were right there, you just needed permission to let go.
Joel was right there with you, also struggling to hold on. He wanted nothing more than to keep fucking you without allowing you to finish, but he’d never seen something so erotic and sexy. Your body, tangled in his own, your twitching thighs and furrowed brow. And he was responsible for all of it, responsible for turning into this wreck.
“You’re takin’ me so good, sweet girl. Beggin’ and askin’ me so nice,” he whispered. “You do one last thing for me, and I’ll let you come.”
“Anything,” you gasp. Now his wish is your command.
“You focus right here. Look at me, and don’t close your eyes. Keep makin’ those pretty noises for me, just like you always do,”
You’re not even consciously trying to follow his orders, you just do. You can’t break your stare from his dark and hungry gaze, his lip curled in a nefarious smirk. Breathy moans and high pitched squeals escape your mouth.
“Always knew you’d be my good girl. Alright now. Let go for me,”
That’s all you needed to reach your peak. The warm, coiling feeling in the pit of your stomach erupts, shooting electricity through your veins. Your vision goes blurry and you hear staticky ringing as you cry out for Joel. It’s all you can feel as wave after wave of pleasure rocks your body.
Joel’s thrusts are sloppy now as he chases his own orgasm. Your fluttering walls and the way you whisper his name like a prayer are all he needed to reach his peak. His hips are stuttering and his muscles jerk and tremble as he pulses inside you, painting your insides with his seed. Joel hovers above you, placing wet kisses and tonguing your salty skin. He’s addicted to the way you taste.
It only hits you now how surreal this entire evening is. Joel’s above you, collecting himself and catching his breath and you’re still pinned beneath him. Of course, you imagined fucking him many times prior to this but it was never this way. You couldn’t complain, though.
Joel interrupts your thoughts with a kiss, sweet and gentle and loving. A stark contrast to the way he fucked your body just moments before. “So apple pudgy pies, right?”
You giggle. Joel is such a typical man, wanting a snack right after sex. At least he’s not already passed out on top of you, the way other men often do. “Yes Joel, just like you asked for,”
Joel backs away from you then with a cute little fist pump, as if he’s winning a prize. “Fuck yeah,” he whispers, walking to the bathroom completely nude. He’s got such a nice and plump ass, you notice.
He comes back and wipes you off with affectionate care, being extra conscious not to irritate your sensitive skin after the rigorous fucking. He helps you into your pajamas then and kisses you on the top of the head. “I’m gonna get the fire goin’, meet me out there?”
“Sure, Joel,” you respond with a smile. “I have to finish up with the apples first, though.”
“Take your time. I’ll be out there,”
You sit up and kiss Joel one last time, the way his lips slide against yours gives you butterflies. It’s a little late to feel that way after what you just did. You go to the bathroom then go downstairs and finish prepping the apples, stirring them over the stove. Once they’re finished, you prepare the sandwiches and make your way outside to sit next to Joel.
The warm glow of the fire illuminates his skin and he looks so handsome, his features look so defined by the light and shadows. He helps you put the sandwiches in the pie irons and then places them on the grill above the fire, careful to make sure they’re not getting too much heat too quickly.
The fire begins to shrink, flames not reaching quite as high as the sandwiches need. You turn your head around you looking for some more firewood, but the sound of ripping paper interrupts your search.
It’s Joel, tearing out pages of a magazine. Your magazine, from before. You look at him with confusion.
“I told you, sweetheart. You won’t be needin’ this anymore. You come to me,” he explains with a low voice, flipping the cast iron pans. “I took good care of you, right?”
You smile shyly. “You did,”
“And I intend to keep takin’ care of your needs,” he promises.
You nod wordlessly, still smiling. A few more moments pass before Joel removes the irons from the fire and removes your pies to cool off, then slices them in half. They’re golden brown and the spicy, sweet, warm smell is sinfully delicious. The gooey apples spill from the bread slightly. Your tummy grumbles at the sight.
The dessert has cooled enough, you decide. Taking a half of one of the sandwiches in your hand, you bring it to your mouth and take a small bite, the cooked apples are like lava in your mouth. You hiss at the burn on your tongue and lips.
Joel looks at you with disapproving concern. “Tsk,” he mumbles with displeasure. “You’re terribly impatient, aren’t you?” his tone from the bedroom is back. Reaching forward to take your chin between your fingers, he swipes his thumb along your bottom lip, collecting some of the apple filling. Your eyes widen, you’re startled by his touch.
“I’ll fix you, though. Teach you some self control,” he sucks his digit into his mouth and pulls it out with a pop, humming at the sweet flavor. “Lord knows you need it.”
All you can think about is sucking his cock the same way he sucked his thumb. You wonder how the soft skin of his dick would feel on your tongue. How he would taste, how he’d look as you take him deep down your throat.
God, how you need it.
tag list: @swiftispunk @rosaliedepp @pedrotonin @kittenlittle24 @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @brittmb115 @bigboiseason123 @laysmt @venusdemonroe @guiltgoldglory @aubreysylvain @leeeesahhh @oliveg95 @ifall4dilfs @alloftheboysivelovedbefore @harriedandharassed @vickie5546 @louisxosblog @southernbe @ravenouswild @luvrking @r02eg0ld @amythenortherner @walkintheprk @zpandaqueen @silkiers @angel-with-a-heart @kdogreads @boofy1998 @theoremrobin @ihatespoilers @2valentines @happy--birthday--kiddo @elissaaa @paleidiot @brie-annwyl @str84pedro @sesigsss @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @palomaluvsdilfs @blackvelveteen1339 @monboudoir @kyloispunk
#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#the last of us#joel miller smut#joel miller#the last of us hbo#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#strang3lov3
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hello, lovely! i've been re-reading your works like CRAZY, you're so talented! 🩷 can i pretty please request for a friends-to-lovers one with eddie where the reader's ex suddenly comes back to her life and tries to win her back, and eddie realizes his feelings for the reader? i LIVE for jealous!eddie too sksksks thank you! 🩷
AN | Nothing good happens when the ex comes to town, right? 🥰
Warnings | Language
Pairing | Modern!Eddie x Fem!Reader
Word Count | 2.5k
Masterlist | Main, Eddie
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
“Guess what,” you walked into Eddie’s cozy coffee shop, waving at a few regulars as you made your way over to the counter. He stopped what he was doing and looked at you with expectant eyes, a lazy little half smile on his features, “hiya!”
“Hi sweetheart,” he leaned onto the counter, resting his chin in his hands as he looked at you gently, “lemme guess…chicken butt?”
“Very funny,” you leaned in and kissed his cheek before you reached over and helped yourself to one of his brownies. He always saved at least one for you, which was something that always made you feel warm and fuzzy inside, “but no.”
“Do tell then,” he grinned as he turned back to the espresso maker, “gingerbread flat white?”
“Ooh, yes please,” you watched him work in awe before he came back over to you, setting the cup carefully in front of you, “no, the exciting thing that happened to me was that I saw August today!”
Eddie’s face dropped immediately as his jaw clenched, “August.”
“Yes!” you looked happy and somehow that made his stomach churn, “he came into the office today to consult with one of the designers and I saw him when I was leaving! He had no clue I worked there and I had no clue he was there.”
“Your ex,” he pointed out as you lifted up the cup and started to drink the delicious latte, “August, your ex.”
“Yes,” you raised an eyebrow before sighing lightly, “we’re still…well I wouldn’t say friends. But we needed things amicably if you don’t remember.”
“You cried over him for weeks,” he almost shouted but quickly dropped his voice as he narrowed his eyes, “he broke your heart!”
“Yes, he broke up with me, but it wasn’t over anything bad,” you cringed when you remembered that you really had been upset when August had broken up with you, “we just weren’t good together. That’s all.”
“I never liked him,” that was the understatement of the century. Eddie didn’t just dislike August, he hated and loathed him entirely. You’d broken your heart and Eddie couldn’t stand that. Just like he hated the face that he was dating you in the first place. Eddie had been in love with you for as long as he could remember. Probably since the day he’d met you over ten years ago, “he’s always been a little bit…scrungly.”
“Scrungly?” you repeated, almost choking on the coffee in between your giggles, “what does that even mean?”
“I don’t know, just like scrungly,” he flailed his arms dramatic, “either way I don’t like him.”
“I’m well aware, Edward,” you reached over and gave his hand a squeeze, “but it is what it is…and we’re going hang out and go bowling soon.”
“You’re what?” he looked like he was going to explode and you couldn’t help but laugh nervously. You’d always wondered why he didn’t like August but he never really had a solid reason. You figured it was just some weird guy thing, “why are you hanging out with him?!”
“Because he asked if I wanted to hang out and there’s no reason not to,” you straightened up and grabbed your coffee, “look, Eddie, I know you mean well, but you don’t have to worry. It’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. We’re just going to hang out once and if it’s completely terrible I never have to see him again, and if it goes well maybe we can be friends. Okay?”
“Yeah,” he lied right through his teeth, “okay.”
“I’ve gotta go,” you took a step back and offered him a small smile, “see you tomorrow for movie and pizza night?”
“Of course,” like he would miss a chance to spend time with you, “love you.”
“Love you too, Eddie,” you promised. If only he knew how very much, “thanks for the coffee.”
“Anytime.”
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
“Hey!” you looked up from your phone when you heard the sound of August’s cheery voice. Tucking your phone into your pocket, you walked over and met him halfway to say hello. He pulled you in for a friendly hug, “you look great. It’s good to see you again. Really good.”
“It’s good to see you too Auggie,” you felt your face warm up but decided to ignore it as you walked up towards the bowling alley. You reminded yourself that this was a friendly outing and not a date, “I can’t believe you’re back in Indy now.”
“I can’t believe you work as an interior designer,” he held the door open and you were immediately overwhelmed by the sounds of people bowling, talking, and laughing. You looked at him with a shy smile and shrugged. It hadn’t been a career you would have thought of either, but Eddie had nudged in the direction after you’d helped him design his cafe. Besides becoming friends with Eddie, it was one of the best designs you’d ever made.
“It just sort of happened but I love it,” you walked towards the counter to get your shoes and a lane, “you remember Eddie, right? He helped me get there, he was a huge supporter.”
You both gave your shoe sizes to the bored looking clerk and when he told you the price for everything, you moved to reach for your wallet but August gently pushed your hand away, “I’ve got this.”
“Okay,” you gave him a starry eyed smile as he grabbed both pairs of shoes and started to head towards the lane that was now reserved for you. The bowling alley always had a very distinct smell but it was so nostalgic to be there, “I haven’t been bowling in forever. This was a good idea! I think the last time I went was a couple of years ago with Eddie.”
“Eddie,” you couldn’t quite tell what he was thinking from the tone in his voice, “you’re still friends with him?”
“Of course,” you finished pulling on your shoes and looked at him curiously, “he’s my best friend.”
“He’s in love with you,” okay. That was definitely annoyance in his voice and you had no clue why, “I’ll be honest with you, it was one of the reasons we broke up in the first place. Sometimes it felt like you were dating him, not me.”
“I…he’s not in love with me,” your mind was reeling at what he had said and you couldn’t help but wonder - what if? What if Eddie really was in love with you? No…you weren’t even going to bother to entertain that thought, “you broke up with me because of Eddie?”
“It wasn’t entirely him,” he dropped his voice and looked at you sweetly, “but people change and grow, you know? You never know what could happen.”
There was definitely a suggestive tone to his voice that was not lost on you. You only managed a small smile in return before clambering nervously to pick up your bowling ball. You felt his fingers brush along your back as you moved, causing goosebumps to erupt all over your skin.
“You never know,” you agreed nervously, voice almost a squeak as you went to take your first shot. That did have you thinking though - would you want to get back together with him? You had never really thought about it…but the idea wasn’t all that bad either. It wasn’t like people were lining up out the door to ask you out…sometimes you had to take what you could get.
A part of you was excited by the prospect - he was a good looking, nice guy that you did love once upon a time. On the other hand, you didn’t want to open that can of worms and let anything happen that could end with another broken heart. Plus there was the issue of Eddie. Realistically it was a non-issue. But you knew that your heart would always long for and yearn for Eddie. You loved him, you’d known that for a long time, but you always knew that nothing would ever happen or change between the two of you.
August continued to be friendly enough and you didn’t think anything of it, but as the night progressed, you could tell that things had changed. You hadn’t done anything, not to your knowledge anyway, to act flirty or make it seem like you wanted anything but friendship with him. It was his comments about Eddie that had you experiencing a feeling of unease. The way he’d talked about him just didn’t sit right with you.
By the time the two of you felt the bowling alley and parted with August pressing a kiss to your cheek, you’d realized that this definitely had been a date.
Fuck. You really hadn’t expected this to happen.
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Ever since the night you’d gone out with August, Eddie was behaving oddly towards you. You couldn’t quite place it but you hated the idea that he was any bit mad or annoyed with you.
You’d been texting with August back and forth, and you were both following each other again on social media. You’d made plans for a casual lunch date soon; it was since Eddie had learned about your second outing that he’d been acting weird. You were pretty sure that he was just downright ignoring you. But you weren’t about to let that stop you from being his friend.
“Hey there,” you walked into the shop when you knew it would be slow and he’d be there. You were almost positive that he’d been avoiding you and had his employees cover for him when you came to the shop. Eddie’s face paled as soon as he saw you, but he still managed a tight lipped smile, “everything alright, Eddie? I feel you’ve been…avoiding me.”
“I haven’t been…I’ve just been busy,” he shrugged noncommittally as he went back to scrub at the counter, “that’s all.”
“You’ve always been a horrible liar, Edward,” you walked up to the counter and offered him what you hoped was a reassuring smile, “did I do something wrong?”
“I…no. You didn’t,” he still wouldn’t meet your eyes but pushed a muffin towards you. Of course he still would save your favorite for you, “it’s nothing.”
“Funny,” you willed him to look at you but the boy still refused, “it doesn’t feel like it. Ever since I hung out with August you’ve been…weird.”
"You don't get it, do you?" He sighed in frustration, tossing his rag to the side and waving his hands around dramatically as you looked at him in confusion. He inhaled and exhaled deeply before brushing his wild curls out of his face, "I want you. I want to date you. I'm in love with you."
"Oh," it came out more as a small squeak than anything as you looked at him to make sure you'd heard him correctly. Eddie looked close to tears as he waited for some kind of response from you. You pointed at yourself before whispering, "me?"
"Yes," he nodded seriously, "you. I'm sorry if that's not what you wanted to hear but it's the truth. And I just wanted to get it out there."
"Oh," this time realization set in. Eddie Munson was in love with you. Not some other girl like you'd always assumed, "you're in love with me."
"Yes. Yes," he felt so nervous he was surprised he didn't just barf then and there, "listen-"
"I'm in love with you too,” your voice was quiet and shaky, but Eddie heard you loud and clear. When he didn’t say anything at first, you completely freaked out and ran through the back of the cafe and into the chilly evening. He followed after you immediately and didn’t stop still he caught up.
He perked up and looked at you from under his lashes, studying your face to make sure he’d heard you correctly. You offered a small, shy smile along with a shrug, “I’m…nervous. I dunno, I kind of always thought you knew but you never said because you didn’t want to hurt my feelings or let me down.”
“I - ugh, what…I’m - sweetheart,” the nickname sounded so sugary sweet now that you knew the true intentions behind it, “if I had any clue that you felt the same way, I would have said something long ago. I should have just done that anyway.”
“Oh,” your cheeks warmed up, a combination of nerves and the chilly of the winter air as you looked at the pretty boy. You were stopped from saying anything else as big, flat snowflakes starting coming down on the two of you. A grin spread across your face as you held up your hand to catch a few flakes in your hand, “it’s snowing.”
Eddie watched you in awe, enamored by every little bit of you. He reached over and put his hand on your face, brushing his thumb over your cheek. Your breath hitched in your throat as you look at him expectantly. You knew what was coming but at the same time you didn’t want to assume anything, “I really want to kiss you.”
“I really want you to kiss me too,” you grinned as you leaned in closer, meeting him halfway until your lips met his. It was a sweet, slow thing, tender but hungry at the same time. Both of you had been wanting this for way too long, and now your dreams were finally coming true.
A first kiss in the middle of the first snow of the season. How could it get any more perfect?
Eddie took your face in his hands, and peppered your face in kisses, which only caused you to giggle, “c’mon pretty girl. Let’s get inside and get some hot chocolate.”
“That sounds perfect,” you reached for his hand and laced your fingers together and pulled him back towards the cafe, “c’mon handsome.”
“But first promise me one thing,” he stopped you nervously as you raised an eyebrow at him, “promise me you won’t see him again. He’s the worst.”
“I promise,” you definitely weren’t planning on ever seeing him again, “it’s only you for me, Eddie.”
“Yeah,” he agreed softly, “you’re it for me too, sweetheart. Only you.”
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson one shot#joseph quinn#st
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Good Girls Are Quiet
aka riding the hilt of Din’s vibro-blade like there’s no tomorrow
Din Djarin x F!Reader
Main Masterlist | Din Djarin Masterlist
Author’s note: I just want to preface this by saying this is filthy. That is all.
Summary: At the Outlander Club on Coruscant, you try to help Din capture a bounty. But when the bounty makes a move what on belongs to Din, that just won’t do. Din takes you a sleazy motel after and shows you just who you belong to.
Word count: 2.1k
Warnings: reader is able-bodied, canon divergent (long live the Razor Crest), takes place when Din is an apostate, bounty gets handsy with you, possessive!Din, light canon typical violence, brat taming, reader gets “punished”, rough oral sex (M receiving), slapping, cum eating, nipple play, knife kink, riding the hilt of Din’s vibro-blade, daddy kink, helmet comes off, spitting, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, use of Mando’a words (cyar’ika = sweetheart), pet names (good girl), no use of y/n
The loud music in the Outlander Club vibrates your entire body, and the smoke hanging in the air fills your lungs. Kriff, this sucks. But it was your idea to help Din distract this bounty. You’re wearing a scantily clad dress, moving through the crowd, and scanning the room for your target; a human male named Colo. You took a good look at his bounty poster before heading inside the club but you’re still going to have to be vigilant. This place is packed and he could easily slip away without you or Din noticing.
Din’s hanging out off towards the wall to not draw too much attention to himself. He tends to do that everywhere he goes so that’s why you offered to help. And just as your eyes land on the bar, you spot Colo, sitting alone and sipping on revnog.
Now you can set your plan into motion. It’s time to flirt.
You walk up beside him, resting an elbow on the bar and looking around with wide eyes like you’re lost or something. He notices you out of the corner of his eye and turns towards you.
“You come here often?” he asks, mouth curling into a smirk.
“No,” you say, making your voice a higher pitch, “What about you?”
“I’m a regular, baby. How about I buy you a drink and show you what’s good?
“I think I have an idea about what’s good here,” you wink, internally cringing at yourself.
Maker, please be over soon.
“Oh, really?” he says, picking up what you’re unfortunately putting down.
He leans forward and rests his hand on your hip, slowly inching towards your ass and squeezing it.
“How about you tell me what that is?”
You open your mouth to respond but before you can, Colo is against the bar with Din pressing his vibro-blade against his neck. It all happened in a blur. The second the hand cupped your ass Din was on the move.
“Hands off,” he growls.
But before the fight progresses any further the bartender shouts, “Take that outside! Now!”
You’re frozen, unsure of what to do next until Din grabs your hand and physically drags you out of there. You still can’t grasp how fast all of that happened, keeping your eyes averted to the floor to avoid the stares of the club-goers before stepping outside.
And now here you are, silently walking the streets of the lower levels. You know Din is fuming underneath his helmet but… What does he have to be mad at you for? You were just trying to help.
“Din?” you say softly, looking up at him. The neon lights reflect off his armor and you can’t deny he looks sexy right now, especially when he’s mad. You looove to get under his skin even more. You know he likes it when you act like a brat. He can deny it all he wants but you know it’s true.
He doesn’t answer you so you continue.
“I don’t get why you’re mad. I was just trying to help,” you say matter-of-factly, folding your arms and pushing your breasts together. They threaten to spill over the low-cut neckline of your dress. And that’s when he can’t take it anymore. He grabs your hand again and drags you down the street, but he’s going in the opposite direction of the docking yard where the Razor Crest is parked.
“Where are we going?” you ask, glancing over your shoulder at the direction you should be going.
“To teach you a lesson,” he growls, stopping at what looks like a motel, a sleazy one at that. The neon sign is broken, only a few letters lit and one of them flickering. You can’t even read what it says. He pulls you by the hand inside, and the interior is even more abysmal than the exterior. Seedy characters lurk in the shadows of the lobby, staring at you and Din while he drags you to the front desk. You’re so stunned by his actions. Din never does stuff like this. He prefers to sleep in the comfort of the Crest where he’s in control of his surroundings. Not left at the mercy of whatever goes on at night in this sleazy motel.
You don’t question it when he gets a room for tonight, anxious to see where the night takes you.
“Room one hundred and three. Down the hallway on your right.”
He takes the room key from the front desk worker and heads down the hallway, the lights flickering above you. He stops at a door, unlocks it, and shoves you inside. As soon as the door is closed he presses you up against it, bringing his helmet by your ear.
“Do you know why you need to be punished?” he growls, a hand sliding up your waist.
“...No.”
“Really?” he says with a low chuckle, “Maybe I need to help you remember.”
He grabs you by the waist and drags you over to the bed, setting you down on the edge. He stands in front of you, the bulge in his flight suit directly in your face. He grabs your chin, angles your face up towards his visor, and says, “Now, cyar’ika. Tell me why you’re getting punished.”
You try to look at the bulge that’s so close to your face by moving your head slightly. But he grips your chin tighter and teases you, “Nope. Eyes up here, slut.”
“For… for flirting with that guy at the club.”
“That’s right. I think you need to be reminded about who you belong to.”
You gulp and the hand not holding your chin pulls his cock free from his flight suit.
“Be a good girl and suck my cock,” he says, pulling you towards his groin. You open your mouth wide and keep your tongue flat, taking his length in your mouth. He thrusts back into you, forcing his cock down your through as far as it’ll go. Tears spring in the corners of your eyes but you keep going, trying your best to be a good girl for him. His hands move to either side of your face as you bob your head up and down.
You look up at him and his visor is fixed on you, watching his cock moving in and out of your mouth.
“You like sucking daddy’s cock?” he says, slapping you across the face.
You moan in response, sending vibrations down his length. He curses under his breath and slams into you harder. Just when you think you can’t take it anymore he cums down the back of your throat, holding your head flush against his groin.
“Take all of daddy’s cum like a good girl,” he commands, wiping away a tear on your cheek.
He finally releases your head and you catch your breath. Wiping away the cum leaking from your lips you ask, “My turn?”
“Not quite,” he teases, reaching forward and pulling the comforter off the bed. You watch as he grabs his vibro-blade from his boot, activating it and plunging it through the mattress. You let out a gasp, in shock that he just ruined this motel’s mattress.
“Din, what did you-”
“You can sit on that,” he says sternly.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
You look at the blade vibrating inside the mattress and gulp before stripping your clothes and getting on the bed. You straddle the hilt of the vibro-blade, hovering over it. He moves behind you, reaching forward and cupping his hand under your mouth.
“Spit,” he commands.
You do as you’re told, spitting into the palm of the glove. He rubs your saliva on the hilt, lubricating it for you to sit on. You take a deep breath and lower yourself on it, feeling the vibrations throughout your core.
“Fuck yourself on it,” he says, hand returning to your chin.
You rock your hips back and forth, just as Din’s other hand caresses the outline of your breast. He pinches your nipple between his fingertips eliciting a loud moan from you. The hand on your chin clamps down on your mouth.
“Good girls are quiet,” he reminds you.
You nod and let out a soft whimper, continue to fuck yourself on the hilt.
“You have to cum on this first. Show me you’re worthy of daddy’s cock,” he continues, growling directly in your ear. He releases your mouth to take off his helmet and set it on the bed. He grabs your chin and angles your head up to face him. You catch a glimpse of him, his curls matted and his skin glistening with a layer of sweat. There’s a truly dark and primal look in his eye, watching as you writhe against him.
“Open,” he commands.
You open wide and stick your tongue out, just as he spits directly into your mouth. Just for him to clamp it shut again and return his hand over it, making you stay quiet.
With one last grind of your hips, the hilt is buried even deeper into you, and you can’t hold on any longer. You whimper against his gloved hand, trying to signal you’re gonna cum soon. You’re worried that if you don’t ask for permission somehow he’ll deny you your release.
“Gonna cum?” he says, amusement in his voice.
You whimper some more and nod incessantly.
“Soak it.”
You cum around the hilt, your walls fluttering around the vibrating metal. You feel your wetness seep out of you, running down your thighs and onto the sheets.
“That’s a good girl,” he praises, slowly releasing your nipple from his fingertips. He removes his hand from your mouth and pushes you forward so you’re on your hands and knees. The hilt slips out of you as you stick your ass up in the air for him, getting ready to take his cock.
Din hooks his hands on your hips, aligning himself with your soaking wet cunt. He thrusts into you in one clean motion, cursing under his breath before pounding into you unforgivingly.
“Who do you belong to?”
“You,” you moan out.
“Who?”
“I belong to you, daddy!” you cry out.
“Good girl, that’s right. Daddy owns this cunt, huh?”
“Yes, daddy. It’s all yours!” you cry out again, just as he slams into you with the most force he’s used so far. You cum around his cock, pulling his own orgasm from him. He cums inside you with his cock pressed right up against your cervix, letting out a guttural moan. He pulls out of you when he’s done and you fall forward, collapsing onto the bed. The vibro-blade is still impaled in the mattress. He pulls it out and deactivates it, leaning forward and hovering over you.
“Do you understand why you were punished now?”
“Yes, daddy,” you sigh.
“You had a big night, mesh’la. Get some rest,” he says softly, lying down beside you and rubbing your back.
Just before sleep overtakes you, you whisper, “I don’t know… Maybe I need to act up again.”
“Oh there’s no maybe,” he chuckles, “You’ll act up again. But that just means I have to keep reminding you that you’re mine.”
“Sounds good to me,” you whisper, drifting off to sleep under Din’s touch.
-
You wake up the next morning and get ready to check out of the motel room, weirdly missing it already. But just as you turn to leave the building, one of the housekeeping employees stops Din.
“Sir?”
Oh, this is definitely about the mattress.
You both turn around to face the worker, an older woman who seems nice enough. She continues, “I don’t want to know how exactly the mattress was damaged. But we can’t let you leave until you pay a fee.”
“Okay…” Din says awkwardly.
She leads you to the front desk and lets the employee stationed there handle the transaction. The woman whispers something in the other employee’s ear. You can only catch bits and pieces of what she said but definitely something about a weird stain on the mattress by the puncture mark. You look over at Din, who's staring directly at you. You’re sure he’s shooting daggers with his eyes under the helmet. Yeah, you’re definitely not coming back here again.
The woman sets off down the hallway to finish cleaning the mess you and Din made, just as the front desk employee says, “That’ll be six hundred credits.”
Six hundred credits.
Din grabs credits from his pocket and hastily sets them on the counter before grabbing your hand and dragging you out of the motel.
As soon as you’re back out on the street he says, “See what happens when you act up?”
“You’re the one who stabbed the bed,” you say, folding your arms.
“You're going to end up costing me a fortune,” he sighs.
“Don’t act like you don’t love it,” you tease.
He doesn’t deny it, of course.
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hiiii!! absolutely love your crosshair stuff (i’ve been on a crosshair binge since season three started lol) anyways i was hoping you could write something that’s like post-omega and crosshair escaping tantiss and reuniting with hunter and wrecker (end ep 4) with the prompts
11. I promised to love you forever, and that is a promise I intend to keep.
and
16. No matter how much time we’ve spent apart, I never stopped loving you.
like i was thinking crosshair and the reader are married but canon happened so the reader stayed with the bad batch and this would be the first time her and crosshair are seeing each other again since the end of season one at kamino
no rush for any of this btw. thankssss
Hello, hi! Thank you so much for this request. I had something similar going through my mind after the episode aired so was excited to see this drop in!! I hope you enjoy 😊
Never Stopped
When Omega's cryptic message leads to a heartfelt reunion on Ryloth's nearest moon, you didn't expect her to be accompanied by the one man you never thought you'd get to see again.
Pairing: Crosshair x f!reader
Word count: 2k
Warnings: spoilers for S3E04, we love a good reunion, inner turmoil, fluff, comfort, pet names.
“I had help.” Omega’s statement hangs in the air until the light sound of footsteps on metal reaches your ears, and you turn alongside Wrecker to watch as someone steps out of the stolen transport.
No. Not someone.
Him.
For a second, you forget how to breathe, unable to tear your eyes away from the man you never dared hope you’d see again. The last time you’d seen him had been after the fall of Kamino, on that blasted platform in the middle of the ocean. You’d pleaded with him to come with you - to leave the Empire’s clutches - but he’d declined. Your stubborn, infuriating husband.
Maker, you’d missed him.
Before you even know what you’re doing, you’re running, crossing the inky darkness between the two ships, closing the distance between you as Crosshair takes the final step down onto the planet’s surface. He doesn’t have time to protest before your arms are around his neck, hauling him into a crushing embrace. His brothers might be wary, but you aren’t.
Crosshair freezes, caught off guard by your affection. In the short time it had taken you to reach him, he’d braced himself for a slap or to be chewed out. This was…unexpected. You’re warm against him, the softness of your body so familiar, as is the scent of your shampoo. Tentatively, he slides his arms around you in return, pulling you close to suffocate all space between you both, soaking up the feeling of having you back in his arms. “Kitten...”
The whispered term of endearment is all it takes, and a heaving sob leaves you before you can stop it.
Everything since the order was given crashes down on you – the shots he’d fired as you scrambled to escape Kamino, how relentlessly he’d chased you across the galaxy, Kamino falling, the distress message he’d sent to your old comms channel…it had felt never-ending.
But it was over now.
As you bury your face against his chest, the torrent of emotions overwhelms you. There’s a sense of catharsis, a release from the pent-up anguish that had threatened to suffocate you. The weight of his presence feels like a balm to your wounded soul, and with each sob that racks your body, it’s as if a burden is lifted, allowing you to finally exhale the turmoil that had gripped you for far too long.
He’s here. In one piece. Free from the Empire’s clutches, with Omega in tow.
Hunter and Wrecker’s tension eases slightly as they witness the reunion between you and Crosshair, but they’re not ready to let their guard down just yet. They exchange knowing glances before Hunter clears his throat. “We need to go.” He shouts across the distance, feeling guilty for breaking the moment but knowing that the Empire won’t be far behind.
You pull back slightly, hands still clutching desperately at Crosshair as he meets your gaze. He’s never been one to cry, but unshed tears line those sharp eyes you’ve missed so much. Silently, you swipe away your tears with one hand, the other finding his to guide him towards the Marauder. A blur of motion whips past you, and you startle, but with a click of his tongue, Crosshair stills the creature responsible, and a hound falls into step beside him as you lead him back towards the ship.
It feels too good to be true, too easy. The nervousness Crosshair had felt rolling through him as he’d forced himself down the steps of the transport returns. Fingers interlaced with yours, he can feel the skin-warmed metal of your ring. It’s still there after everything.
He feels nauseous as you cross the darkness towards the ship that had once been his home. He glances at Wrecker as you both pass him and the apprehension on his big brother’s face wavers for just a second before Crosshair looks away, unable to stand it.
Hunter has already ushered Omega inside, the young girl saying hello to Gonky, who beeps happily at her return. Crosshair lets you situate him in one of the back seats in the cockpit as Wrecker comes up the ramp, smacking the button to shut it as Hunter takes Tech’s seat and fires up the engines.
Tech.
Crosshair swallows, bile rising in his throat. His twin is gone. Omega had brokenly told him what had happened during one of her many visits to his cell. Guilt curls through him - his brother had insisted on the mission to Eriadu and had been keen to find him, which ultimately led to his sacrifice.
Crosshair barely registers the ship setting off or the jump to hyperspace.
A soft squeeze of his hand draws his focus, and his head tilts to look across at you. Your wide eyes, which he adores, look at him with concern and something else he can’t quite put his finger on. Hunter and Wrecker are in the pilot and copilot seats, Omega curled in Hunter’s lap as they catch up while Wrecker pets Batcher.
You can practically see Crosshair’s discomfort, so you lead him out into the belly of the ship, closing the cockpit doors behind you to give the pair of you some privacy. “I thought I’d lost you.” You whisper, your voice barely above a breath as you sit side by side on one of the bunks, bodies tilted towards each other.
“Have to try harder than that.” Crosshair’s answer is quick, and the vice-like grip of dread that had encircled his heart slackens as he hears you laugh - it’s a short and sharp sound, nothing like the melodic giggles he’d grown accustomed to during the war, but it’s something. And Maker, does it feel good.
You’d almost forgotten what it was like to be on the receiving end of his quips, and for a moment, it’s like nothing has changed. But you spot something missing as you turn his hand over in yours.
His wedding ring is gone.
“They took it from me.” He’s quick to reassure you, seeing the pained expression on your pretty face. He hadn’t even been able to fight to keep it, having woken up on Tantiss without it. The troopers had quickly silenced him whenever he’d asked about its whereabouts.
Silence settles between you both for a moment, your gaze fixed on this hand - on the vacant spot. “We’ll get you a new one,” you state quietly, lifting your eyes to finally meet his.
Crosshair’s brows furrow in disbelief at your words. After everything he’s done and the pain and betrayal, he can’t fathom why you still want to be married to him. Guilt and shame churn in his gut, threatening to overwhelm him. “Why?” he asks, his voice low and raspy, his gaze searching yours for some semblance of an answer.
You reach out and gently cup his cheek, your touch sending shivers down his spine. “I promised to love you forever, and that’s a promise I intend to keep,” you say simply, your eyes reflecting a depth of emotion that Crosshair can’t comprehend. “Despite everything, I still believe in us - in you. No matter how much time we’ve spent apart, I never stopped loving you.”
A lump forms in Crosshair’s throat as he struggles to process your words. He’d spent so long convincing himself that he was better off paying for his sins in that cell. But here you are, offering forgiveness and understanding. He searches your eyes for any sign of deceit or resentment but finds unwavering sincerity and love.
Crosshair reaches out, hand shaking as his fingers brush your cheek. “Maybe you’ve hit your head too many times, kitten.” Crosshair quips, a hint of his trademark sarcasm slipping through. Despite the gravity of the moment, he can’t resist teasing you. But deep down, he’s grateful for your forgiveness and unwavering love, even if he doesn’t understand it.
You roll your eyes at his remark, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Maybe you just need a few more hits to knock some sense into that thick skull of yours.” You retort, your tone teasing yet filled with affection.
As the playful banter lingers in the air, a moment of quiet settles between you both, the reality of the situation sinking in. Crosshair’s gaze softens, his hand lingering on your cheek as he soaks in your closeness. “I love you too.” He whispers, his voice barely audible above the hum of the ship’s engines. “I never stopped either.”
Your heart swells with relief and happiness, and with a soft smile, you press a gentle kiss to the back of his hand, feeling the slight tremble beneath your lips. “What happened, my heart?” You ask, your voice soft and concerned, brows drawn down as you watch how he shakes.
Crosshair hesitates for a moment. “They did…things. Some I remember. Some I don’t.” He answers vaguely.
You’re familiar with this game. He doesn’t want to think about it. Doesn’t want to talk about it. And while you know he'll need to one day, today’s not that day. Respecting his unspoken plea not to delve deeper into the horrors he endured, you gently squeeze his hand, offering him a reassuring smile. “We don’t have to talk about it now.” You murmur softly. “But we need to get you out of those awful clothes.” You change the subject, wrinkling your nose. “Handsome you may be, but this is not working.” You make a vague gesture at his outfit.
Crosshair chuckles softly at your remark, the memories chased away for the time being by your attempt to lighten the mood. “I’ll have you know; I make anything look good,” he retorts with a smirk. “But I suppose some fresh clothes wouldn’t hurt.”
You nod in agreement, grateful for the ease with which the two of you fall back into rhythm. “Exactly, and I’m sure I can find something more comfortable for you.” You reply, standing up and glancing around the small quarters of the ship.
As you start to pull crates out from the nearby storage racks, Crosshair watches you with a slight smile, admiring the familiar sight of you in motion. “You always know just how to take care of me,” he remarks, his voice low and warm, a tone saved just for you.
You shoot him a playful smile over your shoulder. “Someone has to.” You quip back, pulling out the crate you’d been looking for.
His kit crate. You still had his kit crate, with all your doodles on the outside – his name in Aurebesh, the squad’s symbol, a copy of his tattoo, and ever so slightly wonky hearts that he’d made a show of grumbling about but secretly loved.
Crosshair’s surprise is evident as he watches you retrieve a clean undersuit from the crate. He’d assumed its contents would be long gone - tossed aside, sold, or scrapped. The fact that you kept all his armour, along with his bucket, fills him with a strange mix of emotions. “Didn’t think you’d keep it,” Crosshair finally manages to say.
Before you can respond, footsteps interrupt the moment, drawing your attention towards the source. Hunter steps out from the cockpit – even with the door shut, he can still hear everything. His eyes meet Crosshair’s, and while he knows there’s a lot for them to talk about and work through, and he’s still not entirely sure he fully trusts his baby brother, he wants to offer him some reassurance. It’s the least he can do. “We were never going to get rid of it,” Hunter says, his voice firm yet gentle. “You’re still one of us.”
Crosshair finds himself at a loss for words. Emotions swirl within him, a tumultuous mix of gratitude and guilt. As Hunter’s words sink in, his gaze flickers back to you. Despite the doubts and fears that linger in his mind, one thing is certain: he’s home.
With a small smile, you offer the clean undersuit to your husband. “Here,” you say softly, your voice laced with affection. “Let’s get you changed.”
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Hi!! Could you write something where after Anakin turns to the dark side fem!reader (who he’s in a relationship with) goes with him. She doesn’t necessarily agree with it but doesn’t want to leave him so she follows him. She begins feeling depressed because Anakin stops paying attention to her and practically emotionally abandons her. They eventually get into a fight where she plans to leave him because nothing has changed but he promises ge will change back for her.
ghost of you
pairing: sith!anakin x fem!reader
warning(s): mental health issues, emotional abandonment, mention of dark side, fighting, sadness, kissing, and fluff at the end.
word count: 1.3k
a/n: did i base the title off the song “ghost of you”? yes i did.
————
He promised things would be different.
After Order 66, You and Anakin had fled to your hometown of Naboo where you guys would hide from the Republic and whatever was left of the almost extinct Jedi order. To say the thought of being discovered didn’t scare you would be a complete lie. You had gone with him for one sole reason— you didn’t want to leave him. He was the love of your life, the only person who understood you, and the only one who sacrificed everything to have a better life with you.
But recently, you had been plagued with uneasy feelings about the entire situation. See, you were never on board with abandoning everything and everyone in your old life, but once Anakin had carried out Order 66, he made it very clear that the two of you couldn’t remain on Coruscant when there was a warrant for his arrest. You could see the difference in his eyes when he first told you about what would happen if you stayed. Agreeingly, you went along with him and now you were stuck with the harsh reality of what he did. He had promised you that the two of you would rule the galaxy, but you didn’t want that. You didn’t want that at all. All you wanted was his love and nothing more, but he seemed to forget about your needs and wants.
He used to touch you whether it was hugging you or making love to you all hours of the night. Now he barely even kissed you. The romantic date nights had been replaced with him working on his plans for his new empire while shutting you out. He didn’t even ask how your day was anymore.
There was no denying your state of mind had been a sliver of what it used to be. You were once filled with joy, hope, and most importantly— love. But now you were filled with feelings of hopelessness. It was because of Anakin. He had been so focused on building his new empire that he had left you behind at home for hours before returning home late at night. Unbeknownst to him, you had spent those hours crying in despair. You wanted your old husband back. The one you fell in love with back on Coruscant.
Tonight had been like every other night. All alone in the living room with no one to talk to besides yourself. It was really depressing to say the least. This was what your life had come to. Despite not being the biggest fan about all this, the thought of him being gone for countless hours scared you to death. You still loved him after everything he did. You didn’t know how you could still be with him, but here you were.
All of a sudden, you heard the door open and you knew he was home. You looked over at your husband with sad eyes, only to see that he wasn’t doing the same. In that moment, you felt yourself reach rock bottom. You could take everything else, but this? This was a new low for you. It hurt you enough knowing he didn’t touch you or talk to you anymore, but not even being met with his eyes? That hurt you more than anything ever did. You don’t know if you were feeling anger or sadness in this moment. Maybe it was both, but it was enough for you to finally say something.
“Maker, Anakin! Just look at me!” you shout with a crack in your voice.
You almost miss the way he looked at you in disbelief, but not quite. It takes him a second to gather his thoughts and words, trying to figure out what the hell this was about. “What the hell?!” he replies, still taken aback by your harsh tone.
“Don’t play dumb with me, Anakin! You know damn well what this is about!” you reply, the anger overlapping any feelings of sadness you previously had.
“Do I?” he replies sarcastically.
“You better know, for your sake,” you say.
“How am I supposed to know?” he asks, sounding annoyed.
“That’s exactly my point, Anakin! You don’t know where I’m coming from because you never talk to me anymore! I’m your wife, for makers sake!” you say, tears now protruding from your swollen eyes.
“I do talk to you!” he counters.
“You’re so ignorant it hurts,” you say with a scoff.
“Oh really? Go on and tell me what I’m so ignorant about,” he says.
“You’re ignorant about the fact that you don’t talk to me, touch me, or even look at me anymore,” you say.
“That’s not true,” he says defensively.
“It isn’t, huh? Then tell me what I did in the past week,” you say. You can see him struggling to come up with a sufficient answer that’s also honest and true, but he has nothing.
“That’s what I thought,” you retort.
“Listen I’m sorry about that. I’ve just been busy,” he says.
“Busy?! That’s what you call busy? You haven’t given me one ounce of love since we came here!”
“You’re overthinking this, angel,” he says.
“Don’t ‘angel’ me. You gave me a half assed apology and you expect me to be ok with that? God damn it Anakin! I deserve better than this!” you say with tears starting to form from how angry you were.
“What are you saying?” he says with a bit of fear in his voice.
“We’re done,” you say harshly before you start to walk away from him. Anakin’s heart sank with sadness as reality came back to him. It had taken you threatening to leave him to finally come out of a trance. He couldn’t lose you. You were the only person in his life that mattered and it had been that way for a long time. Not even the emperor mattered that much. You were the only reason he stayed alive. You were too special.
Before you can get far, you feel your dress being dragged harshly. You looked behind you only to see Anakin on his knees, tugging at the skirt of your dress.
“Please, angel. Don’t leave me!” he said with a shaky voice.
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t,” you say with a scoff.
“I’ll kill the emperor!” he says abruptly which makes you stop in your tracks.
“I don’t believe you,” you counter.
“I would do anything for you, love. Just tell me what and I will!” he begs.
“I want you to turn back into the man I loved and married,” you say with a trembling voice. “You’re a sith lord, for makers sake! Has it ever occurred to you that I don’t want to live this life? I want my husband back,”
“I promise I will. Just give me one more chance, baby,” he asks of you.
You were conflicted. You hated the way this new man made you feel recently, but he was still your husband and you loved him. The new man had died when you broke through his barriers and spoke to him in a way neither of you knew was possible. All that mattered was that it worked. You wanted nothing more than to give him room to grow and learn from his many mistakes if he loved you so much. The only thing worse than being in this situation was living your life without him. The love of your life.
“Get up, Ani,” you say, now cupping his face. He does as you say and is finally back on your level. Once he is, you tenderly kiss him on his lips. It’s a rather foreign feeling after all of these months of being touch starved. The two of you find harmony in the kiss and you feel the galaxy become so little around you guys.
“Maker, I’m such a fool for you, Ani,” you mumble against his lips.
“So am I, darling,” he says back.
Things finally felt right.
#anakin skywalker#anakin imagine#anakin fic#anakin fanfiction#anakin x reader#anakin skywalker x reader#anakin smut#anakin skywalker smut#anakin star wars#hayden christensen#the clone wars#revenge of the sith#ahsoka series#star wars#star wars fandom#star wars fanart#star wars fanfiction
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can i request a dead x reader x euronymous fic where the reader has a solo project of her own it comes out to the public that she’s dating both dead AND euronymous?? pls and thank you
Dating the devils
warning : drinking, mentioning of smoking and drugs, smutish (making out), implied threesome
Info : Thanks for the request anon and your formal words ;) Have fun reading and everyone else too.
masterlist
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Breaking News: The Swedish celebrity "Dark Lilith" the solo artist and also necomer to the black metal scene was seen performing a satanic ritual in the cemetery last night, apparently trying to summon demons, two figures were seen walking into the night-" the TV was switched off and a sigh came over her lips, her eyes rimmed with dark make-up showing annoyance and yet a little amusement.
She held a bottle of beer in one hand and her guitar in the other. The dark material shone slightly in the dim light in the anteroom. Outside, she could already hear the audience waiting for her.
Thanks Satan that I'm here but the report is unnecessary shit she thought and took the last sip of her beer. She liked it when people reported on her and yet she could do without false statements.
Two unnamed people. She knew for sure that it was neither a ritual of shame nor two unknowns. Her lovers and sex on the farm were more likely to be asked. But every interviewer had either fled or refused.
It was true that she was female, a witch, Lilith, and perhaps went a little too far. But she was a part of the scene, of the time, and in that time from her beginnings to her rise she had gotten to know them.
Her two dead ones, her loved ones, it was romantic. Euronymous always gave her song lyrics and gestures in the form of kisses and instruments. Dead, on the other hand, often drew her things and wanted her to kill him.
Things that flattered her, but she also knew that if it came out that she was the biggest solo maker in such a scene, dating the two men from Mayhem would be hell. Everywhere. ,,The Christians and fans are coming for me," she muttered, plucking at the side of her guitar before throwing the bottle into a garbage can, hearing the rumble and clink before she stood up and knew it was time.
The stage was her home. Her fans were her worshippers and her voice was the magic. Looking into the crowd, she saw the many dark shapes, the make-up of the women looking up at her and the blood on them. It was perfect.
And when her eyes fell on the group, she saw the black-haired and the blonde. She winked at them and saw that they knew she meant them. Felt the beating of her heart as she started to play and the guitar joined in. It was another concert of life, it was everything.
The walls shook, the crowd went wild, her voice screamed into the microphone and everything was fucking perfect. It was a bloody night, there was alcohol involved, some drugs and Satan himself.
It was all perfect and as the dark curtain closed and she retreated she heard the voices of the group. ,,You played perfectly!" she heard Euronymous shout as he pulled her close and gave her a deep kiss.
,,Really good...almost deadly," quipped Dead and she saw the hint of a smile on his lips, a gesture she knew she didn't see often and yet she was grateful that they were happy. But the rest of the black circle also congratulated them on another successful concert.
They all grabbed a beer and a cigarette before retiring to the anteroom to have a little celebration of their own and make it all the better. Euronymous always had his hand by her side always had his lips on her body wanting more of her whether in front of the others or not.
Dead watched her, every now and then he would say and show her something and gently stroke her hand, enjoying feeling the bones underneath. They both loved her in a way that was indescribable. And at the latest when the cold night air hit her body, she was snapped back to reality.
,,The afterparty is long over, but here... it's cozy, isn't it?" she heard the voice of the band founder as he stood next to her, entangling her in a kiss and only making her mind even more clouded by alcohol and drugs.
,,Supper cozy-fuck," she mumbled and leaned into him wanting more of him wanting more of them both no matter if it was in a side alley next to the hall. It didn't matter, it was the only thing she needed to get down. ,,Warm...soft," she heard Dead murmur as he knelt in front of her and kissed his way up her legs.
His cold lips almost as cold as a corpse, his pale pale in the moonlight as he ran his knife over her skin while Euronymous used his hand to start massaging her breasts. She wore no tights, just the black top and the short leather skirt.
The warmth she gave him was the only thing the blonde needed to live. He needed her to stay here and Euronymous needed her to keep going. And she needed them both to feel fucking good.
It was a moment between them that would lead to a promising night. If all three of them didn't pause when they heard the clicking sound. ,,What the fuck?" she mumbled, coming back to the now lost to the two of them and looking into the surprised face of a reporter.
,,You're dead!" Euronymous hissed and took out his taser, which flashed through the dead end. ,,Death," Dead muttered, gripping the knife in his hand tighter before the two ran towards the reporter. As he ran screaming for his life, their laughter could be heard. It was satanically good, it was hellishly ampsant for her.
It only got better when she saw her picture on the title page the next day. ,,Fuck look at you so pretty," Euronymous said and Dead nodded in agreement. ,,An album cover...for Lilith," the blonde said and began to draw inspiration.
The picture showed her leaning against the brick wall, her eyes closed with lust, Euronymous at her side, his hand under her top as he kissed her neck.
Dead kneeling in front of her with the knife running over her skin as he kissed his way up her legs to her center. ,,A fucking good picture...I think we should have done this sooner," she muttered, picking up the newspaper before cutting out the article and nailing it to the wall with a knife. It was a fucking satanic masterpiece.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
@mayhem-things , @icarus-star
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The Truth
Bucky x F!Reader (plus size/curvy/heavyset)
Tropes: Fantasy AU, friends to lovers, confessions
CW: sex, burn injury
Word count: 2.1K
Summary:
Playboy Bucky Barnes keeps insisting that he loves you. But he is not a one-woman kind of man. Or so you think.
Fantasy setting in which Bucky and you are part of a small group of adventurers. You're not a front line fighter but a savvy alchemist. Maker of potions, poultices, and traps. One day, some of your traps are compromised, and you get hurt. Bucky is not pleased.
Notes: Inspired by a dream I had and this gifset. There are a couple of Russian words in there, but they are translated in the story.
You were bent over your alchemy table when your bedroom door slammed open. In walked Bucky Barnes, dressed in only a towel tied at his waist.
You flushed, taking in his sculpted body, the dips and planes of his torso. Heat overwhelmed you, and it had nothing to do with the burns along your right arm.
“What the hell were you thinking?!” he demanded, stalking forward and taking your chin in his hand.
“The grenades were compromised!” You shouted back, twisting away from his grip. “ My grenades, Bucky! I sent you out there with something that could’ve killed Steve, Tony, Wanda. Maybe even you.”
Bucky stared you down, his chest rising and falling with his heavy breathing.
Suddenly, with inhuman speed, he lunged forward, grabbing your arm and yanking you against him. His skin was damp, like he’d just come from bathing. Steve must have told him what happened. That you broke formation to detonate your traps before they could hurt your team. Thankfully the only casualty was you. Your burns had been treated, wrapped in cloth, and were healing nicely.
“ Lisitsa ,” Bucky warned. “You can’t scare me like that.”
You rolled your eyes at the nickname. Vixen? Really? That might apply to all those women he bedded at taverns. Not you. Leave you to your potions, poultices, and fiery concoctions. Ved'ma would be more accurate. Witch .
You tried to twist out of his hold, but Bucky only gripped you tighter.
“You still don’t believe me, do you?” he growled.
“No, Buck, I don’t. You bed every woman who looks your way. There’s a different girl on your arm at every festival, every tavern crawl. How could I think that I’m any different? Shall I let you bed me and be done with it? So you can move on to your next conquest?”
You struggled in his arms, trying in vain to get away. Bucky easily controlled you, spinning you around, dragging you to your bed, and shoving you down on it.
You laid sideways, your butt at the edge, as you tried to scoot away from him. Bucky grabbed your legs, squeezing the generous, soft flesh of your thighs.
“There is no ‘next’ conquest, Lisitsa. Only you.” His towel fell away as Bucky made himself at home between your legs. With his strong hands and even stronger arms, he drew your legs apart, forcing your sarong open, revealing your lower half to him.
You froze in place, skin ablaze as his grip lessened and his hands trailed up your outer thighs, your hips, your sides. As he moved, he leaned over you, nestling his own hips to your pelvis, his taut stomach resting on your soft one, with his erection between you.
“If you won’t believe my words, then I will show you. Leave no doubt in your mind that I love you.”
“B-Bucky?” You whimpered, wetness gathering between your legs. He was a specimen of a warrior. Strong, agile, lethal. Of course you wanted him. He set your heart on fire, practically made your blood boil in your veins . But you couldn’t give in to him. If you did, he’d be gone before the morning, taking with him his sexy, enigmatic smiles, his heart-pattering winks, his insincere confessions of devotion.
Bucky grabbed your wrists and took them in one hand to hold them above your head. With his other hand, he swept away the rest of your clothing. Leaving you completely exposed.
“Stop it, Bucky,” you whispered, catching his eyes and holding his gaze. “You don’t love me. You can’t .”
A devastating smile graced his lips. “Why not, Lisitsa? How can I not love all of this? All of you?”
“B-b-because…” you faltered as he traced his nose along your cheek as, his deep inhalation audible; he was just so close. You, too, took a deep breath, steeling yourself to answer. “I’m nothing like them. The women you bed. I am more; I am too much. ”
Bucky growled, deep in his chest. The hand holding your wrists tightened, and again he took your chin in hand, gripping it tightly .
“My love, you are everything .”
You gasped as Bucky lowered his head and kissed you. Now, there was no denying your body’s reaction to him. You moaned and writhed, wishing your hands were free so you could bury them in his hair. Wriggling, you sought purchase on the bed, but Bucky’s hips and torso held you in place. The sheer strength of him captivated you, entranced you. You could only wrap your legs around his waist and welcome him closer to your core.
Long minutes passed as Bucky explored your mouth and you his. The man was voracious, but so were you, gasping and kissing, a paired clash of teeth, lips, and tongues: both of you desperate for more.
With a moan, Bucky eventually pulled away. “My Lisitsa,” he murmured, and rested his forehead on yours. Your eyes met again, and there he was, exposed, and soft…adoring. Was that the truth you saw in his eyes? Or another maneuver in his game? You’d seen him woo women, time and time again. Were you now just the next item on his ever-growing list?
“Don’t pull away, love,” he whispered, those soft, searching eyes pleaded.
“Do you mean it, Buck?”
“With every word, Lisitsa. ”
He held still, his breath arcing across your face, evidence of his desire growing more and more rigid as it was trapped between your bodies.
There would be no way to know for sure, not until morning. But you had him now . Why not take what you could, trapped in his arms?
You lifted your head slightly, seeking his mouth, and then Bucky devoured you. His tongue danced with yours. Gods how he tasted, how he felt . How he was the only thing in the world now, aside from you.
Every inhibition forgotten, you kissed him back, fiercely, and he finally let go of your wrists. Instantly your hands were in his damp, shaggy hair, clutching him close to you as months, years of repressed longing were brought to the surface.
As you kissed, Bucky’s hand skirted down your body until it cupped your sex. His fingers traced along your wet folds, forcing you to whimper into his mouth as he kissed you.
Bucky broke your lips apart, gasping in your face, his own cheeks and ears darkened, flushed.
“So soft and wet,” he told you, a single finger slipping between your folds and slowly stroking you. “Shall I stop now, love? Or do you believe me?”
“Please, Bucky,” you begged, angling your hips closer to his teasing hand.
He had the nerve, the absolute nerve to laugh at you, and back was that signature, indecipherable smirk. He kissed your nose, your chin, your jaw, and then his mouth was on your nipple, suckling and biting to send shockwaves of desire through you. You jolted beneath him, and then his teasing finger lingered at your entrance.
“Shh, doll, it’s all okay. You're mine now. Aren’t you?”
You nodded dumbly. “Yours, Buck.”
Bucky finally pushed his finger into you, and you sighed. The first finger was joined by a second, and Bucky hooked them both, moving languidly in and out until you were mewling, and whimpering, and begging, all in the same breath.
“That’s it, love,” he encouraged. “You look so beautiful right now, it hurts. I can’t wait. Not anymore.”
“Then don’t.” You tugged on his hair, insisting that he continue.
He removed his fingers, using them to coat his erection with your wetness. Then, he perched himself at your entrance, sliding in just a bit before he lowered himself on the bed, holding his weight on his elbows as his hands cupped your face.
“Believe me now?” he asked, thrusting into you.
You clenched around him, the sweet sensation of being filled by the man you’d denied for so long. It felt like he belonged there, inside of you, filling you, stretching you, loving you.
He moved quickly, and you matched your movements to his own, raising your hips and chasing after his thrusts.
Sweat soaked his body, and you grabbed every part of him you could reach as he made love to you. You gripped his arms and then caressed his chest. You sank your fingernails into his back as you neared your peak, as Bucky groaned and panted above you.
You were on the edge now, faster than you’d ever been before, all because of the man in your arms. “I’m going to come, Buck,” you rasped, voice strained because of all the pleasure coursing through you.
“Go ahead, love,” he told you, nibbling your ear. “I’ll be gentle next time. Take my time with you.”
Next time .
You came, the promise of his statement letting you rise and fall while surrounded by Bucky Barnes.
His thrusts grew sloppy, urgent, and Bucky groaned, capturing your lips with his own, as his movements slowed and he spilled himself inside you, coating your walls with his warm seed.
Your bodies remained joined, you gazing up at him, and Bucky, eyes wide, staring down at you. Then, Bucky gathered you up in his arms, lifting and arranging you easily on your bed so that you rested on top of him. Both your bodies were sweat-slicked and shivering from the aftershocks.
“Did you mean it?“ he asked you, holding your chin once again. “Are you mine?”
Apprehension, suppressed while Bucky had his way with you, rose again.
He must have seen it because Bucky softened his grip and ran his thumb on your cheek. “I’ll go Lisitsa, if you didn’t mean it. I’ll go and never speak of this again.”
You shook your head furiously, unable to bear the thought. “I meant it, Buck.”
“So do I, Love,” he mumbled, kissing your forehead, and held you close until you both fell asleep.
*
You woke some time later, your injured arm burning and crying out for another poultice and a clean cloth. As you attempted to sit up, you realized you were cocooned in a pair of arms, with a blanket draped over you.
“Mmmph,” Bucky grumbled sleepily. “What is it Lisitsa ?”
Your heart clenched. “You’re still here?”
“‘Course I am,” he answered, voice still groggy with sleep. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You never stay the night with them. With…the others.”
He sat up, pulling you with him, and the blankets pooled at your waists. Outside it was still dark, the stars glittering the night sky.
Bucky pulled you into his lap. “There are no others.” Threading his fingers through your hair, Bucky forced you to look at him. “There is only you. I promise.”
In the darkness, you could not see his eyes or his smile. You only had his words and the feel of his touch to guide you.
“My bandage needs changing,” you murmured, trying to slip off his lap to get your feet on the floor.
“What here,” he ordered, setting you on the mattress as he got off the bed.
“Buck, what are you--”
You heard the lighting of a match, then the soft glow of a candle filled your room. Bucky held it, and the tiny flame bounced off his body, casting shadows over his muscled form. He’d come into this room wearing only a towel, and he was barefoot and naked, making his way to your shelves of concoctions.
“Which bottle, Lisitsa ?”
“The green one, middle shelf.”
Bucky grabbed your healing poultice and a clean, rolled cloth, too, before returning to you. Unwrapping the cloth on your arm, Bucky tsk’d and sighed.
“No going where I can’t protect you. My heart can’t take it,” he said, focused on your injury. After setting the used cloth aside, Bucky scooped some of the poultice out of the jar and touched it to your arm.
You winced, not used to someone else taking care of you.
“Shush, love,” Bucky soothed. “It’ll feel better in a moment.”
Love . There it was again. He’d had what he wanted and still, he was here, tending to you, comforting you, loving you.
“There’s my good girl,” he encouraged, gently patting the poultice on your burns. He finished and put the lid back on the jar. You’d never seen him do such a thing. Not for Wanda, certainly not for Tony, not even for Steve. But he was doing it for you.
As he reached for the clean cloth bandage, you grabbed his elbow with your left hand and said, “I believe you, Buck.”
He gazed at you in the candlelight, it danced across his features the face of the man you’d loved for so long. And now you were finally ready to admit it.
“About time, Lisitsa . Now let me finish this so I can get back into bed with you.”
You let out a long-held breath as Bucky finished wrapping your injured arm. Bucky snuffed out the candle and found you in the darkness, crawling back into bed with and pulling you back into his arms.
Outside, the sky turned gray with the rising sun. It was morning.
#mdop#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x plus size reader#bucky barnes x curvy reader#plus size reader#curvy reader#bucky barnes#mcu#mcu fanfic#playboy bucky barnes
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mitchie marny please n thanks 🙏🏼
Photoshoot | M.Marner
Not my gif
Pairings: Mitch Marner x fem!figure skater
Summary: you get an offer to represent leafs merch with Mitch
Warnings: swearing, make out session, fade to black smut, Mitch’s a nice guy
Word count: 612
Note: first off I choose a cute imagine. But I really want to thank you guys for the appreciation on Sneak Away like lots of love. Also major thank you for the 300 followers. Love you all so much.
When you had first got the call to do the shoot, you were over the moon. You’d been living in Toronto for as long as you could remember and living there also meant living so close to a rink to practice for all competitions. To most countries you were another figure skater, but to Canada you were a sensation, very close to Tessa Virtue.
When your coach told you that the leafs wanted to partner with you, you couldn’t help but be excited. So here you were walking down a tunnel following your stylist and a leafs representative. “Okay so Y/N, you’re going to change into these and we’ll see you back in that room.” They told you, handing you a jersey.
It was a regular leafs jersey with the blue being the prominent colour however, this jersey had the All-Star patch on the shoulder. You examined the jersey, looking at the back number, number 16, Marner. Your heart gushed and a blush rose to your cheeks.
You walked out of the change room and headed to the studio for where you’d be taking the photos. “You look great!” Your stylist gushed. “So we’re gonna have you stand there and Mitch over here will be right behind you.” The photographer said, pointing to Mitch who was beside him.
You nod your head, allowing the stylist and photographer to walk away, leaving you alone with Mitch. “Hey, sorry about the late notice. I thought they would’ve told you,” Mitch says nervously while shaking your hand. “Oh, no it’s fine. Makes me feel less nervous.” You say, giving Mitch a bright smile.
“This makes you nervous?” He motions to the photoshoot going on behind him. “Not all the times you perform in front of hundred of people.” You laugh at his exaggeration. “between you and me, the ice is my home. There’s no fear, there is only peace.”
Mitch looks at you with such adoration. All the words you were saying to him about skating are just what he felt when he played hockey. Although no one enjoys losing, he still felt better on ice than walking on concrete.
“Okay, you two lovey eye makers, time to do the shoot!” The photographer shouts. You and Mitch both blush but comply. The photoshoot went on calmly. You felt more comfortable knowing Mitch was in the room and the fact that he was whispering nice things in your ear and some poses being of him holding your waist and you two smiling at each other.
“Last shot. Mitch, I want you to point to y/n’s back while she stands facing you. So her face won’t be in shot.” The guy explains. You turned around to face Mitch to see him already staring at you before posing for the camera. You stared at him during the time and you could see the smirk growing on Mitch’s face.
“That’s it, folks! Good job everyone!” The photographer yelled out, already putting his equipment away. “Well, that’s it.” You say, facing Mitch, fiddling with your hand. “Maybe it can be a bit more.” He says confidently.
A half an hour later, you back at Mitch’s apartment and you back against his door and your lips attached to one another. You moan into Mitch’s mouth as he runs his hands over your body, feeling very curve. “Good, you’re so beautiful.” He groans, looking up and down your body.
“We should probably take this to your bedroom.” You suggest playing with the hem of his sweatshirt. “Yeah, one hundred percent.” He says, trailing kisses from your neck to your lips. “If we make it there.” He mumbles before crashing his lips to yours.
#hockey#hockey players#nhl#nhl imagine#hockey imagine#imagine#nhl smut#fluff#toronto maple leafs#hockey smut#mitch marner blurb#mitch marner fluff#mitch marner#mitch marner smut#mitch marner imagine#mitchell marner#16#marner16#nhl blurb#nhl x reader#mitch marner x reader
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Genshin Girls and Love Languages!! Receiving and Giving!
Genre: FLUFFF, just real pure stuff out here
Reader: Gender Neutral
Characters: Keqing, Xinyan, Jean, Dehya, Ayaka
Keqing-
Receiving - Quality Time: Having you spend your time with her means the world. If anyone can fully understand how special a mortal life is, it’s her. The fact you want to spend your fleeting seconds getting to know her means the world. (and no you’re not dying lol) but she acknowledges how you’re both on borrowed time with the inevitable end. So, just the fact you are CHOOSING her over spending your time on anything else means everything.
Giving - Acts of Service: This girl will do ANYTHING and I mean anything for you. She is at your beck and call ready for you give her an order. You constantly have to tell her she doesn’t have to go to the extra mile like that but she can’t help it. She loves you too much >:).
P.S. She is such a home maker mwah.
Xinyan-
Receiving - Words of affirmation:
While Xinyan is the definition of optimism and hard work, it can be upsetting sometimes when no one appreciates her talent. So you being there as her biggest fan, her number one cheerleader, and just generally a supportive as a lover really pulls her out of those tough time!! You get her head out of the dump and she couldn’t be more greatful!
Giving - Physical Touch:
Xinyan is good with her words. She knows all the words to call your pretty and special, but she’s even better with hugs, kisses, and cuddles. She loves holding your hand. She does get a little insecure about her hands so loves it even when you trace over her chipped finger nails from her strumming the guitar. She likes to run her hands in your hair (or give you head pats) while y’all are cuddling too.
P.S. She’s definitely written multiple love songs about you. <3
Jean-
Receiving - Acts of Service: Running her a warm bath after a long day of work and making her dinner makes her heart go to the moon and back!! She’s so greatful for you in her life as her biggest supporter and energy recharger. Oh yeaa, after cramming in a bunch of work, she’s all cuddles and snuggles to recharge and make up for lost time ;) She also hates working overtime once you come into her life. She really starts to fix her schedule so she can spend more time with you!
Giving - Gifts: Jean shows her love for you through gifts. Even if she can’t always be there for you on special days, she wants to show that that doesn’t mean she has forgotten about you. And while you might tell her it’s okay, and that she doesn’t have to give you anything, she’ll still spoil you with the most expensive things. she knows your tastes down to the ‘T’ and constantly tries her best for you!
P.S. She always tries to out do herself when it comes to gifts.
Dehya-
Receiving - Physical Touch: She just needs you in her arms. She feels the safest when you’re nearby her, and while she might not want to admit it, she can get quite clingy when you’re not around. She’s been through a lot and witnessed a lot of violence first hand, so having you nearby means she never has to go far for her to protect you <33
Giving - Quality Time: She’s a lady kept busy with her mercenary work. But she will ALWAYS and I mean ALWAYS make time for you. You’re her special someone, her most precious person, and she wants nothing more to spend the whole day with you. But when that isn’t possible, and she does get time with you, her full attention is on you. Eye contact, nodding along to whatever you blabber on, and always give you the “mhmmm,”and “yeah?” while listening
P.S. Her eyes light up when she looks at you, and is always smiling when you talk.
Kamisato Ayaka-
Receiving - Words of affirmation: Poor girl just wants to know she’s enough. You telling her that she’s more than enough and comforting her, makes you her safe space. She feels as if she can be the most of truest self around you. And if you whisper strings of praise in her ear or shout the words “I love you!” with a big smile, it would still gets her all red in the face to this day!! She never gets tired of hearing, well basically anything, from you. Could probably listen to you talk about quantum physics or something boring like that for hours and still look at you with hearts in her eyes <33
Giving - Gifts & Words of Affirmation: She wants nothing more than for you to known how much you mean to her. She secretly makes a goal to herself to make your day each day and see a toothy smile of yours. She mainly does so by hand made crafts, like origami or painting, with love poems written somewhere on them. She also writes you a lotttt of thank you letters with a whole thesis and conclusion (kidding, just she fills the whole card). When she’s not with you, her favorite past time is thinking of things to give or make for you.
P.S. She writes a lot of the ‘P.S.’ too.
A/N: Kicking my legs and giggling writing this
#genshin women x reader#genshin wlw#genshin fluff#keqing#keqing genshin impact#jean genshin impact#xinyan#genshin imagines#genshin headcanons#genshin dehya#dehya x reader#dehya#kamisato ayaka#ayaka#genshin ayaka
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Fine
summary: Bucky Barnes is the only person in the world who ignores you. Yet you are constantly sent on mission with him. In this one you get hurt by accident and he is disturbingly nice and caring to you and that confuses you.
pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader
word count: 2.2k
warnings: fluffy and soft Barnes
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Starting a new life is not always easy. After the Battle in New York City, you were faced with nothing. Your family was buried under your Manhattan apartment. An explosion had taken everything from you. Your ear rang violently and blood ran from it. You struggled through the wreckage of the streets, shaking, when it was all over. You fled the state and built a new life with the rest of your family's savings. Never again did you want to go through life without a fight. If such an attack ever happened again, you wanted to be ready for it.
"Good morning." you said as you entered the kitchen and adjoining dining room. Everyone murmured a quiet reply except Bucky. Sighing softly, you placed your cup under the coffee maker and pressed the button. Then you made yourself a sandwich and took the last seat at the other end of the table. Your ears listened to some conversations, but you did not participate in any of them. Silently you watched the morning hustle and bustle. If someone told you 6 years ago that you would be at Avengers headquarters, you wouldn't have believed them.
"Oh nice everyone is here, then I can start the meeting." Tony ate a handful of blueberries and stopped across from you. "Romanov and Clint you guys hit the jackpot. Fury will join." he handed Natasha the first file then they left. "Steve, Wilson and Wanda. Quinjet and the longest mission. Good luck." Steve took the next file. An uncomfortable feeling spread through you and inwardly you hoped he wouldn't mention you're and Bucky's names. But luck was not on your side today. "Bucky and Y/N. Warehouse in New Jersey." Frustrated, you exhaled and picked up the file. Shortly thereafter, the ghastly squeak of a chair broke the silence and Bucky stormed out of the room. You really weren't hungry anymore, so you pushed the sandwich over to Peter and stood up. "It gets better eventually." Uncertainly, you looked at Tony. "What?" you asked. "The nightmares. Friday evaluated last week's night logs for me. You can always talk to someone here Y/N." Nodding silently, you walked out of the common room to your room. As you did so, you flipped through the file.
You couldn't explain why he hated you so much. After all, you had some things in common. When you weren't on missions, you could be found in front of a good book or lost in thought in a quiet place. You especially avoided parties of any kind, simply because your social battery drained very quickly. Sam regularly tried to lure you and Bucky out of the room. It usually worked for the cold soldier, but not for you. You liked your privacy and have always been more of a loner.
After freshening up and slipping into your new black suit, you came into the garage. You ran your fingers over the new fabric. Tony had completely redesigned your suit and improved it. "Took you long enough," Bucky muttered grumpily. Annoyed, you clench your jaw and stare at him for a few seconds. "Why are you always like this with me?" you blurted out. "I haven't done anything to you!" Shaking your head, you got into the car without saying another word. You slammed the door on purpose to make your point. You stared at the monitor and typed in the destination. "Are you coming already?!" you shouted out, as Bucky was still standing in the open driver's door. He mumbled something unintelligible and got behind the wheel. The drive to Jersey didn't take long, yet your mind wandered. Not that Bucky would talk to you.
"What is that?" your mother asked as she stood at the kitchen window. Darkness fell over Manhattan for a moment and you joined her. A huge crash echoed through the streets of Midtown. "Get away from the window and find your father." she said in a trembling voice. Something was wrong but you couldn't see. You almost tripped over your own feet looking for your father. As you took the stairs to the top floor, the building began to shake. "Dad!" you yell up the stairs. Staggering, you arrived at the top. Where your father's office would have been, there was a gigantic hole between the ruins and you could see the sky. It looked like an alien invasion. Your body froze into stone as you watched the giant animal-like ships glide through the air. Your father was most likely dead and you could do nothing better than watch in panic at a potential war. You always thought aliens weren't real, but like the rest of humanity, you were probably wrong. "Y/N" your mother's voice sounded from downstairs. She was standing at the foot of the stairs, eyeing you. "Come down, right now!" You had no control over your body but somehow you reached her at the bottom. "Here." she thrust a backpack into your hand and stuffed various things into it before fleeing to the flap under the carpet. She took out all the wads of bills and stuffed them into the backpack as well. "We need to get out of here, fast." She pulled on your dazed body to get to the stairwell. The building shook again and chunks of stone fell on the concrete stairs. "Dad's dead." you finally found your voice again, and it sounded raspy. "I know my darling." she said softly and you felt her hands on your cheek. "But we have to get out of here or we'll die too." Tears smeared in her eyes and you followed her downstairs. The neighbors who were still alive were also heading down to the streets, although this probably wasn't the best idea. There were burning and broken cars on the road. Parts of houses lay scattered on the asphalt. This was the greatest nightmare in the history of the world. You had never experienced anything like it before. Most people were running in one direction, but your mother was looking in the other. "We have to go that way!" You looked at her as if she was also from another planet. "Mom, are you crazy? Isn't that where everything happens?!" You pointed at the explosions and the alien ships. "And that's exactly why no one would suspect us there. We need to find a working car and get out of there. Get the hell out of New York." You nodded and followed your mother through the wreckage. She rattled some car doors, but none of them opened. "Shit," she muttered and looked across the street. "Let's try this." she pointed to the silver SUV. She looked left and right before she ran off. The only mistake your mother made was not looking up. Before she could reach the vehicle, it exploded. The wave hit and you were thrown backwards. There was a ringing in your ears and everything was spinning. Like in slow motion, you raised your head and saw your mother's lifeless body. "Mom." It was still ringing in your ear and you felt something wet flowing down your cheek. "Mom." Breathing flatly, she looked at you and raised her hand trembling.
"Y/N." Blinking, you stared at your fingers. "Y/N" That didn't come from your thoughts. Fingers appeared in front of your eye and snapped. You shook yourself back to reality and Bucky looked at you. "We're here. I parked a few blocks down the street." He pulled the key out of the ignition. "Sorry." you muttered softly and got out in front of him. In your head you went through the file again. "Now I'd like Sam's drone to take a look at this warehouse first," you muttered as you stood in front of the complex. "We'll do it the old-fashioned way," Bucky said without emotion, and proceeded to climb the surrounding rooftops. "I don't have super serum in me to just crawl up walls. It's more of a super soldier or spiderman thing." He looked down at you, his Vibranium arm shining in the sun. "Then take the back door bore." You imagined seeing his mouth wrap twitch before he climbed through a window into the building. Terrified, you stared at the window. He just walked in without you. You crept along the wall to find an open door or window. When you finally found something you could already hear gasping and grunting. Bucky seemed to knock out the opponents without a problem. That's why you set out to find the capsule that Tony wanted. Actually, you didn't like stealing things, but this capsule had already been stolen from Avengers headquarters, so technically it was just a matter of getting it back. Like a cat, you tried to sneak quietly through the storage shelves. Behind a shelf filled with barrels, you looked around the corner. Jackpot. There was this stupid capsule alone in the room. Anticipated, you went to get her out of the warehouse as quickly as possible. Before you got to the capsule, two strong arms wrapped around your shoulders. For a moment, you thought Bucky was playing a prank on you, but those arms were about to suffocate you. It took you a second to remember your self-defense. You rammed the guy's elbow in the side and he let you go. You immediately turned around and punched him in the face. He moaned and held his nose. "What fear of losing to a girl?" you joke. "Never" said the dark-haired guy before he pulled out a knife. "That's not fair." You could hardly finish the sentence before he came out. The first few times, you were able to dodge until he caught your rib and you hissed to the floor. "Fuck." you muttered and raised your arm at the last second to fire an electric shock at him. He turned to the ground. You were panting and crawling with the capsule behind the shelf. Thus, potential new attackers would not find you immediately. When you took your hand from the wound, your hand was dyed red. Breathing deeply, you pulled yourself up and clung to the shelf. A move to your right made you twitch and almost hit before you realized it was Bucky.
"Hey. You okay?" Nodding you turned your head to him. "I´m fine." He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “Really? That looks painful." „I said I‘m fine.“ The words came out of your mouth harder and louder than you intended. Typical defense strategy. However, Bucky could probably see the tears in your eyes as you pressed your palms to the fabric. "Hey, I'm sorry okay? I really just want to know if everything is okay." "Just a scratch, all right." you swallowed the rest of the emotions down. "Let me see how deep it is." he came a few steps towards you. "We'd better get back."you just answered. "Y/N, please." he looked you right in the eyes the first time and you were amazed at the light blue. He pulled the stretchy fabric apart to see the wound. "It's really not deep, but it should be stitched anyway." his cold metal fingers stroke over your skin, making you twitch. "Come." he took your arm over his shoulder and reached for the pod. "Back to headquarters. We don't want you to die." he grinned and you looked at him in disbelief. "You don't have to be nice to me now just because I'm hurt." He stopped in front of the car and furrowed his eyebrows. "I'm not just being nice to you…. no." he said seriously after a moment's hesitation. "Why do you usually hate me?" Tears shimmered in your eyes. "I don't hate you, not at all Y/N." he gently lifted you into the car, trying to hurt you as little as possible. "Funny you always treat me like shit though." you tried to laugh but it hurt like hell. "Who do you think leaves books at your door at night after your nightmares." He got in and drove gracefully into traffic heading for New York City. "I always thought Sam did that." you admitted quietly. "No." he muttered. "I do. I have nightmares, too. I know what it's like and I wanted to help you." He looked at the road intently. "Thanks." you whispered, "I like you Y/N I just never knew how to tell you." Your eyes got heavy. "Funny way to express it." Your voice softened and your hand slipped from the wound. "Y/N stay awake. Please stay awake." Bucky voice got louder.
"I think she is waking up," somebody murmured. "Hey they're we've been worried sick." Natasha hovered over you and Sam who was holding your hand smiled big. "Man you scared the shit out of vibranium arm boy." Now you smiled. "Sorry." "Well leave you two alone for a minute." Natasha stood up and took Sam with her. "How you feeling?" Bucky sat down on the chair next to your bed. "I feel pretty good, thanks for the rescue." He sighed. "If I was a bit faster he wouldn't even hurt you." "It is okay Bucky. I am fine. Don't worry. Let´s talk about what you said in the car earlier." you smiled. He chuckled. "Okay darling let's have that talk. But if you tell Sam I have to kill you." He took your hand in his. "First of all I am going to tell you how you flirt in this century now. No cold hearted stares anymore and treating a girl like she's air." He nodded licking his lips. "Got it. Can in kiss you anyways?" "Cheeky bastard,"you laughed out loudly with a slight pinch of pain before his warm and soft lips came crashing onto yours.
Permanent Bucky/Sebastian Taglist:
@aya-fay @glitterydeputyshepherdwagon @queenofkings1212 @lilya-petrichor @dexter99 @dystopian-dez382 @xoxoloverb @yougottalovefandoms @justalostgirl
#bucky barnes#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes x reader#bucky fanfic#bucky x y/n#james bucky barnes#bucky x reader#bucky x female reader
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In the HEAT of the moment
Pairing: Cal Kestis x chiss!jedi!reader
Word count: 3.8k
Warnings: reader is in heat, unholy use of the force, slightly angst dynamic (we are a bit bratty), 0ral f&m receiving, p in v, dom!cal(?)/switch (accusingly), p0rn w/o plot (not really?), no use of y/n
Summary: Terribly h0rny on a ship with an attractive redhead, what could possibly happen?
MDNI!
Author’s note: it all started that I wanted to write an old classical sex pollen! fic, but then I remembered how a lot of people (myself included) headcanon chiss people to have a mating cycle and I thought it could be an interesting alternative. Also the only thing you really have to know about chiss people is that they are generally speaking slightly cold people, they have blue skin (NOT MENTIONED) and red eyes (which glows when they feel strong emotions). Reader is depicted as a force user, but this honestly only serves the purpose to make it even more filthy.
Sorry for the BAD DESCRIPTION of the Mantis, do you really care though? Also BD is safe and sound from any inappropriate view🤌
English isn’t my first language
I watched the red-haired figure beside me trying to land the ship as fast as he could, fear painted all over his face, anxiousness filling his chest. If only he could know what was actually wrong with me.
I was spread out on the co-pilot seat, breathing heavily, clothes increasingly damp from the sweat that was now clearly crowning my face. I was trying to concentrate exclusively on my force signature, or rather I was desperately trying to keep it closed. I just had to wait for the wave to pass, for this embarrassment to end.
I hated the fact that it happened in front of him, I usually was able to handle it myself. I wanted to shout at him to leave, I wanted to maintain my usual cold character, he had never seen this vulnerability in me before and he was scared.
He was probably thinking a fever had come over me, he couldn't possibly know how my biology worked and he couldn't, shouldn't know, that I was developing a soft spot for him.
It was so hard to be this close yet so far from his touch. If I had spoken I would have lost all control over my signature and he would have been able to sense my heat expanding. How the heat ran more and more in my blood until I felt my eyes burning. If only he could know.
I remained contorted in the chair, trying to tighten all my limbs, trying to make myself smaller and smaller, to repress this uncontrollable situation. My head was back, eyes half closed, I couldn't look at him, even though the image of him, those damn red hair, was now imprinted on my retina. Every time I tried to open my eyes even slightly, he would turn his worried gaze in my direction. My glowing red eyes left me no opportunity to escape his peripheral vision.
I closed my eyes definitively, trying to cling to the little concentration I had left. I could feel Cal landing the ship, this is absolutely useless, I kept thinking. BD scanned me, «I know her temperature and pulse are high, I can see it» he replied with a frustrated tone to the droid, he didn’t like at all this unusual situation.
My eyes were still completely shut, not even for the love of the Maker I was going to open them, especially now that I could hear him rising from his piloting seat.
«You have to tell me something though, what the hell is happening to you, you were fine thirty minutes ago» he was now hovering over my face, and I could feel his warm breath as he spoke.
His hand reached out for my face, but I quickly sent him away, dismissing it with my arm, still, the brief touch made me tremble from the inside. And he noticed it.
You aren’t getting any information out of me, I would explode before letting you know anything, I thought.
He loudly snorted, starting to grow frustrated by his anxious state and my attitude.
«Listen, you got to tell me something. Why can’t I access your signature? You never blocked it. Let me read you» he then gripped with decision at both of the sides of my now completely sweaty head and made me face him.
I had to bite so hard my lips to hide the moan that almost made it out, to the point where I tasted my own boiling blood.
Focus, focus, focus. For the love of the Maker and for my dignity.
I tried to remove myself from his cautious touch, but his callous hands gripped harder, keeping me firm in my place. I then opened my eyes, the light of the cockpit invading my sight, making my eyes water from the discomfort, but I kept my burning gaze on him. Hopefully, even if a tear started to descend, he would recognise my furious gaze, which I had unfairly dedicated him numerous times, on missions, but also in everyday activities. I was just trying to keep my distance for all of those months, but all the crafting I did on my persona was breaking just in front of his eyes. If only he knew.
«I just want to help you. Let me help you. I know that you hate being helped, especially by me, but I need you alive and healthy kriff» he sighed deeply, closing his eyes for a moment, but I kept my gaze fixed on him, breathing even more heavily. It felt like oxygen wasn’t enough. Because it wasn't, as I resignedly knew; and I knew I was going to need his help if he didn't get out of here in mere seconds.
«Since I don’t know what’s the matter with you, I’m sorry, but I have to try to access your mind. You look like something is giving you a panic attack» how ironic.
If only he knew.
After that sentence, I knew I wouldn’t be able to hold the game, the control I had over my force signature was feeble, so it took me all my strength to do it, but I kicked him as hard as I could in the stomach, desperately trying to send him away. The kick ended up being much more delicate than I had in mind, it didn’t even hurt him, but it still made him step back a little and remove his delicious hands from my skull. I tried to catch the opportunity to leave the cockpit, but as I tried to stand up, my bloody wobbly limbs made me crash on the floor, my head hitting the seat just above and failing forward.
I hissed in pain, desperate, needy and desolate for the scene that Cal had to endure. I was barely lifted from the floor with my elbows, I lifted up my gaze towards his direction. Hairs sticking to my forehead and breath still as heavy as an imperial cruiser.
«Let me help you. You are a mess» he slowly walked next to me, lowering his broad figure to my level. Flashes came back in mind from all the times I had the upper hand over him, in our training sessions or missions. I was so good at hiding everything, until I wasn't.
«Y-you need…t-to stay away from me» I whispered and it made him widen his eyes from the surprise that I could speak. Words as light as air destined to fall into the sea of uselessness as quickly as lead. And with that, the unstable hold I had on my signature fell.
«I can’t leave you here, don’t be rid-» he started saying by lifting me from my arms. And with that, he knew. Now he knew.
Moments that felt eternal passed as I held again my gaze, now completely stripped of any decency. Kriff, if he knew.
I couldn’t reach for his signature, I simply lacked the strength to do so, but I was sure that he was scanning my interior from top to bottom, I could sense him everywhere in me. It was so good, I imagine the real touch, how good that must feel.
«Go away.» I replied, closing my tired eyes once more, letting my head fall forward, hiding hopelessly my bare mind.
«But I thought that I felt so good…» he said meanwhile rising my head once more, lifting my chin with one of his damn hands. And a light moan escaped my lips.
My mind went blank there, eyes fixed on him as I would be staring into the void itself and my mouth opened from the shock, revealing the now dried blood painted on my lips. I felt the agonising tears and the sweat mixing over my face, this was purely mortifying.
One thing was being shamed without addressing it and one thing was whatever was going on here. But as much as I felt shamed, I felt this growing heat rising once again in me: it felt good.
And it certainly didn’t help when he started to gently brush away the dried blood from my lips with his thumb. I was just glad his eyes were fixed on them and not my eyes, you know, for the sake of my decency.
«All of this…all of this for what?» He chuckled lightly, readjusting his gaze on me, making our eyes entangled again «For hiding from me? The only one ashamed is you, wilful as always».
«Leave the matter to me, I-I will handle-»
«You don’t get to handle a thing. Be a good girl and let me help you or your rut won’t pass» he voiced firmly.
This time, my eyes widened in surprise and the little nickname made my body flinch.
«Tell me you want my help and you will be served.»
For a moment, I breathed heavily again, focusing entirely on reaching for his signature: he was being honest. That’s all I needed. I needed him and he knew. He knew it all.
«Help me, n-need you»
Without any other dancing around, he lifted me easily, closing the cockpit door of the Mantis behind him, and locking up BD. My head instinctively went back, just for him to catch it with his large hand. I wanted any clothes off.
Once we reached for the table, he delicately leaned me against its surface, ice against my warm skin. He climbed over me with his broad figure, feeling his own arousal growing. He waited for this for so long. And I did not know.
Our lips, now, mere inches away. I was hot, but kriff, I could feel his heartbeat also running. Our breaths mixed over our faces and for cutting short all the theatrical tragedy, I simply lifted one of my hands to cup his face, making him come instinctively closer. Now as my lips danced on his, I knew it was over.
I was burning, to the point where the heat gave me back my strength and I started holding onto his hair with both of my sweaty desperate hands, making a moan escape from him. He felt like a sweet fresh relief from my pain, but Force, if I need more than that. Our hips then started to stroke against each other, searching for the real relief.
It felt like we were eating off each other’s faces, sloppy kisses filled with burning passion, mixing with the sweat and blood, nothing too different from our condition on a battlefield wryly.
Then, he started travelling down to my neck and moans finally freely left my mouth, as I felt the ginger growing harder on my thighs.
«You are so warm, so good» he muttered half moaning into my neck as his hands started working on my tunic, but he stopped for a moment and looked at me with those pretty green eyes: «Can I?».
«Hurry.» was my response.
And he hurried. Basically ripping my damp tunic away, and without losing a second he was on my breast, skilfully sucking one as he played the nipple of the other with his callous hand.
«So soft, can’t believe I had to wait this long» he whispered as his voice grew hoarse with desire.
«More Cal» I whined softly, now completely blinded by lust.
And my wish was his command.
He navigated down, in the direction of my wetness, leaving a trail of careless kisses behind. His hands, which felt frigid, given my temperature, followed him as he went down, gripping firmly my waist, and making my eyes roll. Hence, he held me still with one large hand flat over my lower stomach, pressing lightly, as the other worked to remove my trousers. At last, I was bare before him, a desire I hid for long.
«It took you a heat wave, almost a heart attack, for letting me touch you. So obstinate to prove yourself, when you were already perfect in front of me» he breathed while he lowered himself, as my thighs were being spread upon his face.
As my legs parted, I felt my indecent drench slide down, feeling exposed and turned on like never before.
«You are going to be my four-course meal» he mumble, taking a look at my condition and smirking, before starting to rub over my sensitive clit, as his breath kept teasing me.
I was in no condition to speak, my mind was already far too gone, and filthy sounds were the only thing coming out of me. And Force, the sight would have killed any Jedi master back at the temple. Too bad.
Once he considered it enough, he closed the gap between my heat and his lips, starting to suckle intensely, holding me open for him, feeling every one of his digits pressing into my flesh. The touch felt electric, combined with his force signature overwhelming me inside. I wanted him, may this be the last thing I ever do.
And he damn knew.
«For someone so bitter, you taste so sweet» A low groan escaped from him as he gripped greatly at my inner thighs, parting my lips even more, whilst I held on the table for my damn life, trying to steady myself as my body trembled beneath him.
His lips, the swirling of his tongue over my swollen bud, the slightly cool sensation from his lower temperature and the air around us, were driving me wild. I was getting close and instinctively I tried to force my legs closed, but I was immediately shut by his powerful hands, keeping me more open and vulnerable than ever.
«Don’t try. Let me have what is mine» he hissed while flipping me over to my stomach.
My face and chest made contact with the cold surface, as I felt my hips being lifted and dragged at the edge of the table. His cool grip, air, surface and exposure made my walls clench. The sight of my bare ass made his cock, still hidden beneath all his clothes, twitch in anticipation. He nudged over my warm soft flesh, admiring my curves, gripping it with force and giving it a loud slap.
«Don’t you think you were bratty enough? It feels so good to have the upper hand, no wonder you like it some much»
He was enjoying this almost as much as me, the only difference being that I was utterly submitted to my own desire, my rut, desperately trying to get me filled with his seed.
He lowered once more his gaze to my warm, opening my lips with his rough thumbs, as my wetness fell on the table’s surface. His mouth captured my clit once more, making me tremble from the newly acquired angle, but his hands were quickly on my sides, supporting my weight.
We kept filling the room with my indecent moans and his low groans as he ate me out like a starved man, till the point where I reached my peak, surrendering to the overwhelming sensation coursing through my body. Oh Force, oh stars. Why did I wait so long for him?
Instinctively, I let my hips fall on the table and Cal followed me, resting his head on my lower back, giving it a soft kiss. We were both breathless, but we were both far from being over with this.
We both knew.
My heat returned after mere seconds, making me whine. I flipped myself over as Cal lifted himself from me, gripping one of my ankles to drag me closer to him.
«Undress. Come over to the table. Quick.» I commanded and so he did as I said.
Rapidly he removed his own clothes and I got to stare at his toned pale body, covered in delicious freckles and reddish hairs travelling all the way down to his throbbing member. What a show.
He climbed for the second time that day over my figure and when he got to the level of my face, I decided that before anything else, I would have to taste him, my thoughts driven by my burning lust. I took him from his shoulders, switching our positions, causing his head to collide with the table and blocking him with my thighs, my wetness now pooling on his lower stomach, just above his crotch.
«My turn, you had your fun Kestis»
Whiteout giving him the time to protest, I descended over his body, leaving a trace of warm bites from his neck till the lowest part of his abandonment, making him squirm at every touch. I felt like my blood was boiling even more, raising my temperature once again.
I softly bit the flushed skin of his cock, before opening my watery mouth and taking as much as I could from his size. My boiling mouth, working in sinuous movements around his member, made him let out a low groan, overwhelmed by the sensation.
«If o-only I could’ve shut you up before like this, mhm. So pretty. So good.» he stated bringing his hands over his face moaning, lifting his hips up a little, causing me to pleasantly choke on him.
Hence, he moved one of his hands on my head, encouraging me to go deep, to move faster, increasing his excitement. From now on, I wouldn’t have ever again protested to remain silent.
Then, he lifted my head from him, a hand taking me from my chin, cleaning once more my lips, but not from blood this time.
«Nobody here wants me to come in your mouth, let’s be honest» he asserted and it was almost as if my rut snapped me out of my state, remembering what I truly want and need.
All I wanted was being filled, till I couldn’t take it anymore, filling me with pleasure and relief from the unbearable heat that has been consuming my body.
«Please» I pleaded softly, biting my lower lip between my teeth, desperation adorning my words.
Cal lifted me from my stance, sitting up and swinging my legs around his lap, my core just in front of his.
«You are beautiful, you have always been amazing, even if I thought you hated me» he spoke softly, caressing with one hand my face, removing some of the hairs sticking over it, whilst, with the other one, he held my waist firmly.
«I am sorry, I was just trying to be professional» I confessed lowering my gaze. The sounds of our heartbeats were the only thing I could hear as our force signatures started to entangle.
«You were more annoying than professional» he chuckled, «And professional for who? Do I look professional? C’mon.»
«Mhm…annoying…just because I kept beating your ass Kestis»
I took his chin with one of my hands, as the other gripped at the nape of his neck, his Adam’s apple rising as I bit again into his neck, making him breathe heavily.
«So annoying…» he moaned, «Tell me what you need to make you feel better, I would do anything for you»
Our signatures overflowing into each other, make me see the stars and the kriffing galaxy, I said in his mind. He thankfully knew.
Without another thought, he laid my back again on the surface, as he towered over me.
Breathe in, breathe out.
His fierce mouth was on mine, filthy kissing me, catching restlessly my swollen lips and whimpering while doing so. His hand adorned my curves, clasping at the softness of my hips, gently moving one leg up, aligning himself at my entrance.
Locking our eyes, sharing one last breath, before his length entered me.
Instinctively, I rolled my eyes back as his thick member filled me completely. He was everywhere inside of me, his pleasure was mine and mine was his. The Force could reserve such unholy uses.
«See? Good girls get stretch real good» he muttered in a groan of pleasure.
The carnal desire was burning more now than ever.
As he moved inside of me, I arched my back and let out soft moans, whilst he was holding me tightly, growling at the nape of my neck. I clenched my walls around him as he hit every sweet spot just right. Every deep trust emanated a lustful indecent sound, skin against skin, clapping together, coiled by sweat and desire.
He was filling me divinely, but I needed it raw. Animalistic. As my rut intended.
But, without words, he knew that.
Cal flipped me over, grabbing onto my waist from behind, as he impaled himself without warning in one trust. His powerful thrusts sent shockwaves of ecstasy coursing through my entire being, and I felt the intensity of his emotions radiating through every cell in my body as he poured into me relentlessly. One of his hands reached for my neck, bringing him even more inside of me.
As our hearts synchronised, the combination of the raw act and our force signature fuelled his movements. the connection deepening with each powerful stroke.
Every noise, every sound of pleasure, filled the room, intoxicating our actions even more, the sound of our skin colliding acted as a frame, in this almost dazzling lust.
We both become lost in the heat of the moment, Cal blinded by my rut that I shared with him in the force.
His cock throbbed with excitement, eager to release its energy deep within my welcoming embrace. The redhead filled me up completely with his solid, pulsating presence. The sensation was invigorating, propelling both of us closer to the brink of euphoria.
«Close» I mumbled with the little strength left in me.
His muscles tensed, as I tightened around him, feeling my pleasure intensify as Cal’s arousal reached its peak.
With his last powerful strokes and the connection we shared in that moment, I saw the stars and the galaxy, feeling our bodies intensely tremble at the reach of our high, whilst gasping loudly.
He painted my inside white with his warm liquid, turning my body temperature back to normal.
Breathless, he fell onto my back, his nose brushed deliberately over my ear, with his member still inside of me.
Restored our normal heartbeats, he lifted the both of us from the table, guiding us to the sofa, where I sat on his lap, brushing some of his hair away as he did the same with me.
«I had no idea chiss had a mating cycle»
«Nobody knows, it’s embarrassing»
«It was fun in my opinion baby» he confessed before giving me a small caste kiss. The action, made me flush and smile unintentionally, which produced a soft laugh from the redhead.
«Fellow associate» I replied, hiding the smile.
«Don’t start again ple-»
«The cycle lasts a week» I said, cutting him off by placing one finger over his own swollen lips.
His eyes widened and a smile formed upon his face as I pressed my forehead on his, smiling, without control this time.
There was nothing he didn’t know now.
Lovely gifs from @vindicia !!
Beautiful dividers from @cafekitsune !!
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My request are open, just know that I’m slow✨
#dedicated to all my ginger friends<33#little treat after those the bad batch episodes#huge backstabbing tbh#cal kestis x reader#cal kestis#jedi!reader#chiss!reader#star wars#jedi survivor#jedi fallen order#cal kestis smut#star wars smut#also#shoutout to all the Thrawn fanfiction with his rut going on#chiss#star wars fanfiction#star wars chiss#reader insert#Jedi fallen order x reader#Jedi survivor x reader#cal x reader#cal kestis x you#cal kestis/reader#cal kestis x y/n#chiss ascendancy#star wars x reader#star wars x you#star wars x y/n#cameron monaghan#cameron monaghan x reader
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New Lyrics
Male Reader x Chu Sojung (Exy)
Length: 2170 words
Tags: angry sex, body writing, mutual pinning to walls and chairs, hard sex, riding, cursing, fishnets, fishnet stockings kink, standing sex, creampie, lyrics on your body, lyrics might hit a bit hard to home, idol!Exy /producer!you
Inspiration: the ideas and pictures/gifs send by @friskyriskywhisky
Credit: @friskyriskywhisky for giving the winning requests!
(A/N: I chose this fic as the winner. Reason? Uhm, I liked it a tad bit more, the flow of words was very easy and fuck, I might have a thing for fishnets/stockings in general. Enjoy Exy!)
“Fuck, we’re out of paper.”
Exy crumbles up the final sheet filled with hollow, unfulfilling words and throws it in the corner of the recording booth. She spits out the cap of the marker, which turns out to be a dumb little mistake. As she goes to pick it up from the dark blue carpet, she doesn’t notice the awkward position of her marker. A dark line forms in one of the openings in her fishnet stockings.
“Watch out,” you laugh at her when she notices. “It won’t come off easily. Or did you want to play tic-tac-toe with me?”
Exy rolls her eyes and licks the tip of her thumb. She rubs the marked spot while groaning in frustration. This recording session has gone nowhere, hell, it hasn’t even started because her text is still bullshit words in a bullshit structure with bullshit rhymes. That’s how she said it, not you, but you tend to agree, it is not a good text.
“You can just type on your phone, you know?” you say into the silence, the booth drowning out any echo.
“I fucking know, but it’s just,” Exy groans again. The marker is still resisting her attempts at cleaning. “It just feels wrong. The lyrics feel like ass on a phone screen. They look dishonest, powerless, and smell like the rotting body of the CEO.”
“Exy,” you sigh and rub the bridge of your nose. “Get your act together. You’re not a child. If you need more paper to figure this out then go get some. I’m literally just here for the recording.”
“Only the recording? I thought we were gonna do something afterwards?”
Exy raises an eyebrow. She swipes away the free-swinging microphone in a dismissive gesture and glares at you. Tension rises, but you are uncertain if Exy feels the sexual part of it as strong as you do. Judging from the way she crosses her fishnet-covered legs over one another and adjusts her short pencil skirt, she is either very casual about it or tries to seduce you.
But the way Exy then grabs your wrist, you suddenly doubt that you will get lucky tonight. Maybe this is bothering her more than you thought. Maybe the poor lyrics dictated by her company have finally gotten to her. Maybe she is sick and tired of having to save her parts all the time. After all, it’s still business.
You expect her to pull you up and throw you out into the hallway, however she is pulling something else up: the sleeve of your hoodie. Your bare, entirely clean arm comes to light, just to be met and stained by the black tip of Exy’s marker. Letters quickly taint your skin, from elbow to wrist.
“Nah, fuck that,” you shout and free yourself from her grip. “I’m not your paper. Wait, what the hell is this? You can’t even use this! It’s like only curse words.”
“Yes.”
“Are you crazy? This won’t come off in—fuck, Exy, stop!”
Exy pins you to the back of your chair and continues to scribble. This time, she uses your forehead and cheeks to spread angry syllables. She is surprisingly strong and continues to keep you down long enough for you to be marked by her marker. She forces your head side to side to read the new lyrics, until you’re finally able to break free.
Grab her hips and hammer into the wall. The entire room shakes at the impact and Exy winces. She drops the maker and you quickly pick it up. It might be a childish thing to do, but you are eager to return the favor and paint her face with black curses as well.
“Fuck, asshole!” Exy shouts and stamps on your foot. “Stop it, now!”
“I don’t even think about it,” you growl and firmly hold her beautiful face steady. “Go on, spout your nonsense lyrics so you can read them in the mirror later.”
“Fuck, I hate you!” Exy punches your sides. “I want this to end / our love is nothing but a mess / We have fun at night, but during the day we fight / With all of my might I try to find you ag—
“Why did you stop?”
“I—I,” you stutter, looking at Exy’s fierce eyes that pierce through your mind. “I was just puzzled—ouch, what the—”
Exy gives you a painful punch right above your hips. The jabs she gave before were nothing compared to this, hell, it might even leave you bruised. Exy gets a hold of the marker and continues her artistic outburst on your other arm.
“Those are the lyrics, you moron. Gosh, you should just shut up and be a piece of paper. I try to find you again / but you’re not the same / you’re lame and all my thoughts are in vain.”
The two of you engage in another struggle. This time the fight is more playful, no rough punches, no throwing into the wall. It’s certainly no coincidence that Exy’s blue jacket slides down her slender shoulders to reveal her white crop top with nice, firm melons beneath it. More importantly, she also shows more of her paper-like skin now.
You easily take the marker from her fingers and place it on her exposed biceps. Exy grabs the hem of your hoodie and pulls you right to her face. Her lips are right there, ready to be parted with your tongue, but she denies you the kiss. Instead she moans the lyrics right into your face.
“I just want you back and all the fun we had / Get me out of the dark, the black in my head and throw me—fuck, just write!”
“There is no more space on your arm!”
“Then go further down!” Exy groans and presses herself onto you. You feel her abs flex the same way they do when you fuck her in your bed. Push her back a little and put the tip of the marker on them to write Exy’s euphoric moans.
“Throw me on the bed / Use your tongue, use your hands / don’t give me a chance, make me cum.
“Fuck me right her, right now, fuck!”
Exy’s shaking hands pull up the hem of her pencil skirt. Between her panties and your face are mere inches—and of course her fucking fishnet stockings. The way this tight-knit net wraps around her full thighs always makes your head spin. Exy knows, hence why she is wearing them quite often around you.
Today, you won’t wait until she pulls them down at home. Your fingers entwine with the fabric and you tear a large irregular hole right at Exy’s crotch. The young woman is eager to pull aside her panties to show you how dripping wet she is. You are eager to get rid of your pants to show her how rigid she makes you.
“What are you waiting for?” she says, sultry, spit dripping from her lips.
From one confinement to the other. The inside of cotton boxers is traded for the slick insides of Exy’s pussy. The two of you groan in unison as you inch deeper and deeper. Exy stabilizes herself with arms firmly wrapped around your nape, while you reach for her thighs to find a better position to thrust. She is clearly not amused, her patience thinner than a sheet of paper.
“Can you fucking start alr—oh my God!”
Exy’s mouth is agape, the remainder of her sentence stuck in the back of her throat as you begin to thrust hard. You stare at her face, the black letters and words spread all over it. The lyrics tell the story of a woman desperate for her lover. She wants to be pleased, she begs for it, although the guy is an egocentric asshole.
Maybe you are the asshole for her. At least you will now.
“Shut up, Exy!” you shout right at her, fingers firmly digging into flesh and fishnets. “You better save your voice for that fucking rap. I don’t want my skin to be wasted for nothing.”
“Ts,” Exy manages to hiss as you move your thrust upwards to make your cockhead reach the hottest depths of her tight cavern. “S-stop complaining, you got your revenge. Just, fuck, look at me!”
Exy flaunts her scrawled arms and shoulder to make her point, but you reject it by latching onto her collarbone with your lips. A strong waft of her cherry scent, mixed with the strong alcoholic smell of the marker makes for a weird sensation as you leave a hickey on her.
“Fuck, people might see it,” Exy whines in between her moans.
“Good, I hope everyone sees it.”
You reach for her butt and give it a firm smack before picking her up. Spin around and pin her against the next wall to continue your hard fucking—at least that was your plan. However, Exy takes a moment of your brief inattention and pushes you back onto your chair.
Her pussy lips still wrapped around you, she doesn’t wait another second to pounce on you. You know her riding is always intense, but today she is absolutely merciless. Her fingers dig into your shoulder, her teeth bite your lip, her hips fuck you numb.
You feel your legs begin to tremble, rubbing against the continuously tearing fishnets. Wet sounds and loud moans come from both sets of Exy’s lips as she is fucking herself senseless as well. She has become a beast, unable to control her lust. She will take you down, but she is bound to fall as well.
“Fuck, fuck, Exy, I can’t—”
“Cum, cum already! You fucking ass—ah!”
Thank God the room is soundproof or else the entire building would know of Exy’s violent orgasm. Wails at first, then waves of girl juice that run down your twitching cock. Warm, wet, tight—Exy’s pussy is as perfect as ever. Thank God again that you can blast your cum into it. Your entire body twitches and accidentally pumps all the white batter up into her.
“We’re not finished!” Exy groans. She tries to adjust herself in a more comfortable position, maybe with you on the ground, but this time you catch her sleeping. With one arm hooked under her knee, you make her stand upright, far enough away from every wall, one leg high in the air. Exy’s flexibility is taken to her limits, but even though she groans in pain, you won’t relent. The only thing that keeps her stable on her one, swaying leg is you.
“You’re fucking right.”
You groan through the initial pain of using your spent cock to pierce Exy open again. With her, a second round is always worth it, no matter the cost or heart-stopping overstimulation. She deserves the hard thrusts deep into her wet core, while you deserve to feel the entirety of her fishnet covered leg.
“Shit, fuck, fuck,” Exy whimpers into your face before you press a peck on her cheek, right at one of the many obscene words on her skin. Her hands move to zip open her skirt to give her more leg room for the artistic position. You on the other hand opt for more drastic measures: ripping more holes into the dark web.
Wet skin continues to hit wet skin, even as you decrease the pace a little to make each thrust harder and more precise. Exy giggles when you miss her g-spot and screams in ecstasy when you hit it perfectly. It’s like a game for her, where she can only win, either by seeing the disappointment in your dirty face or by feeling sparks of pleasure fill her breeding hole.
You hate this kind of game. You just want her to crumble, to succumb to another orgasm on your dick and milk you completely dry. Each minute you spend inside her and not on recording the rap part could lead to awkward questions by the higher ups. Reality is often disappointing, but you won’t go without a bang.
Drop Exy’s leg and instead get a hold of her long hair.
“Exy, you will fucking cum now!”
“What—oh, fuc—ah!”
All your remaining energy is bundled into a final assault on Exy’s cunt. Your cock is a piston on fire, rapidly leaving and penetrating the soft flesh at the right spot. You know Exy too well, she can’t play this stupid game forever. She grits her teeth, but her eyes already roll to the back of her head.
“Cum.
“Cum, Exy, you horny bitch!”
Once again, wet juices all over your base and thighs. The warmth from inside her is spread all over you, so it’s time to give her a good filling. To your massive first load, you add another impressive surge of cum. You pull yourself out, but before all of the white stuff can stain the carpet floor of the booth, you catch it with your hand.
“Ah, fuck. You got a paper towel or something?” you laugh and Exy’s playfully smacks your cheek.
“Get lost, asshole.”
(A/N2: omo, these have really set me ablaze fr)
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the only thing we have to fuck is fear itself
rating: 18+
pairing: max phillips x f!reader
word count: 5309
summary: You get drunk at a happy hour and tell Max to his face you don’t find him scary at all. He takes that personally.
warnings/tags: drinking, like two seconds of scary vibes, smut, (secret) established relationship, work hard, play hard, have secret sex with your coworker even harder
a/n: I’m so sorry to FDR for butchering his quote for the sake of a title, but i like to think that horny bastard would have loved my smut.
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Despite working at a place that was quite literally soul-sucking, your coworkers could throw one hell of a happy-hour.
There wasn’t a bartender in a ten mile radius from the office who didn’t know you all by name, didn’t shout a greeting over the tightly-packed house the instant you walked in. Rarely was it just a single crew member at the bars – you often got accused of moving in a pack like a five-headed hydra that could drink double its own weight in liquor, beer, and frosés – and being only two-fifths human, the Monster Squad was an alcoholic force to be reckoned with.
Maybe because you actively promoted unity amongst the species, like poster children for positive and “non-toxic human-demon relationships” HR kept encouraging in their Monday-Funday email blasts, but your little group was something of a legend in the area. You thought any notoriety was more likely due more to your faces plastered all over the bars’ trivia night winner boards, but in the office, people tended to stare. Trish, a siren from Santa Barbara, loved the attention, said it was good for her skin – gave her a “dewy” look. Nita, the only other human in your group besides you, disagreed with Ken (a quarter leprechaun on his mother’s side) when Ken claimed the whispering came from the sheer volume of nonsense that started around 4PM in the office on Fridays and continued until you all left the office. Ken was of the belief that the notoriety was actually infamy – to which he was promptly booed and had to buy the next round.
And yet, to yourself, to the quiet conversations you had in the bathroom mirror after two long island ice teas and whatever was in what the centaur bartender at Lucky’s called an “Ass Whooping”, you suspected there might be another reason the Monster Squad even had a name at all. Within your own fields, each of you were respectable – Ken and Trish were both heads of marketing and Nita oversaw a considerable team of engineers, with you of course a department leader over in legal – one member of your group was, let’s say, more well-known.
Well-known because he was the flashiest, the loudest, and certainly the most demonic of you all: Max Phillips, VP of sales, money-maker extraordinaire, and a fan-favorite amongst your Overlords, the rest of the sales team, and anyone with working and interested sex organs in the near vicinity.
To your complete and utter annoyance.
You don’t quite remember how you all came together, who brought who into the group, and when it was unanimously decided that you’d stop snatching up office workers like limes at $5 margarita night after Trish, but it was Max who kept you together, who set up the group chat (somehow mysteriously gathering all of your phone numbers after a very late night), who bullied anyone who responded to his weekly “winner winner liquid dinner” texts every Friday morning with a tepid maybe into coming out that night. He already seemed to know half of the bartenders in the city, all of whom were happy to send over a free round of tequila shots as a “thank you to Max’s friends”. While you’d never look a gift vampire in the mouth, you were suspicious of his influence. Was that vampire hypnosis real? Did he have a pack of lesser, baby vamps to send out to tenderize the hunting grounds?
One thing’s for sure, he definitely didn’t scare them into it.
“Has Halloween, like, changed for anyone else?” Nita grouched over her second Sangria Spritzer two hours into another fantabulous happy hour at Heel Clicks. The four of you were huddled into your comically small booth up on the landing near the back bar – of course there were other seats available but this had the best view, the closest access to your favorite bartender, and at some point, the shoulder-to-shoulder proximity served as a way to counteract the tipsy swaying.
Trish leaned around Ken, her beautiful blue eyes sparkling with curiosity.
“What do you mean?”
“I dunno,” Nita shrugged hopelessly. “It used to be one of my favorite holidays when I was a kid. I loved the candy, the costumes – all of it. But I really liked being scared the most.”
Ken sorted into his old-fashioned. “Well, if you’re still scared of things you were as a kid, Nit, I think you’ve got a bigger problem than seasonal preference.”
She elbows him and he knocks into Trish.
“Not like that . . . but, like, monster movies aren’t really scary anymore? I mean, I used to watch Ginger Snaps religiously around Halloween, but, uh, now that I know an actual werewolf and he’s the nicest little old man in accounting, I dunno . . . it’s just not the same.”
“Sorry to burst your bubble on monsters,” Ken shrugged. “But I personally cannot relate. As a member of the Free Folk, my people have always been welcomed, seen as bringers of good will towards man.”
“You know there’s eight movies where a leprechaun murders literally dozens of teenagers, right?” You turned to Ken over Nita, your entire right buttcheek hanging off the edge of the booth.
“Oh, yeah, baby Jennifer Aniston,” Trish mused, thinking. “If that’s what your uncle looks like, Ken, then I posit Halloween is still fucking creepy.”
“Halloween is definitely creepy and it sucks.” Your ringleader has returned with electric-green jello shots. Max Phillips carried a tray with one hand, his immaculate blue jacket gone to display firm forearms underneath his white, rolled-back sleeves. “Bunch up, kiddies, Daddy’s back with treats.”
Half the group groaned, the other squealed in delight.
Max hip-bumped you, his ravenous cologne immediately making you think unwise thoughts, as he pushed his way onto the bench absolutely not made for this many people. He looked back at you as he passed out the drinks.
“Now why are we all in agreement that Halloween is a lame holiday?”
“Nita claims that because she personally knows a werewolf – Ned, right? – she’s not scared of monster movies anymore.”
Max scoffed. “Well, there’s your problem right there. Werewolves were never scary to begin with.”
“What monster movies have you been watching?” Nita gaped at him. “Maybe it’s bad representation, but all the movie werewolves can tear you to shreds!”
Ken nodded solemnly. “This is why affirmative action is so important.”
Trish smacked him over the back of the head.
“So, what?” Max continued, crunching up the jello in its plastic cup. “Now that you know me, a vampire, you think all Dracula movies give blood-suckers a bad rap?”
“No, being a human-sized mosquito with too much hair gel is doing that all on its own.” You smirked, dead-eyed, at him. Behind you, Ken and Trish snorted so hard they almost spilled their drinks.
Max narrowed his eyes at you, in a look he only gave you when you wouldn’t let him ease around legal loopholes “for the good of the business”. Only Nita seemed to be oblivious.
“That’s a good point, Max.” She thoughtfully stirred her jello with her pinky, unsticking it from the sides of her cup. “I mean, I guess I never watched that many vampire movies to begin with.”
Max broke his heated staring contest with you to look around at Nita, elbow pressing up into your chest as he leaned forward on the table. “I can promise you, doll face, vampires have been and always will be more terrifying and lethal than werewolves.”
“Not the argument I think you want to make, mate,” Ken murmured as you shifted yourself to face Max entirely.
“Oh, yeah? Enlighten us all –,”
“Nope,” Trish called down the row, “we’re taking this shot before you two get into it again.”
“To Ned!” Ken yelled.
“To Ned!”
Plastic crunched, tongues slurped, as jello ungracefully slipped into every open mouth down the bench. You licked your lip, tip of your tongue green. Max watched the movement out of the corner of his eye.
“So, enlighten us, Max, why should we be so afraid of you?”
Max grinned out the side of his mouth. “One, I’ve seen more bite out of a pomeranian than one of those Tribbles. And two, whatever-wolves can only get it up once a month. I’m all monster, all the time, baby.”
At this, everyone groaned.
“Dollar to the Dick Jar!” Trish smacked her hand on the table.
“Here, here!”
Max pouted as he took a dollar out of his wallet and slammed it into the center of the table, payment towards tips or the bill or whoever suffered the most due to The Dick.
“Face it, buzz,” you shrugged as he put his wallet away. “You’re just not scary any more, if you ever were.”
“Is that right?”
Fuck, you were in a lot of trouble. Beneath the table, his thigh soaked yours in heat.
“That’s right.”
“You know what is really scary?” Ken muttered, digging around in his crushed up for the last remnants of jello. “Kelpies.”
“Ah – yes! They’ve got sloppy fangs covered in algae!”
“Hey – that’s my cousin you’re talking about!”
Heel Clicks was hands down one of your favorite bars in the area. Devoted to the local music scene in the area, the vibe was a mix of old 70s rock bands, modern steel, and whatever justified lots of mounted horns and hairy cow-skin stools. The drinks were great, seasonal too, and there was always live music on the patio out back. In a twist that you found particularly cool, the old rum-runners tunnels had been converted to comfortably spacious bathrooms in the basement. Behind the solid oak door, the noises from the above bar are nearly entirely muffled, making the slow descent to the bathroom something of an out-of-body experience when you’ve had a few and the sudden silence is almost an echo.
Plus, these fucking stairs are a death trap.
You embarrassingly clutched at the railing, the wooden stairs at far too sharp an angle even if you were sober as a judge, much less at a Monster Squad happy hour.
Stupid Max and his stupid drinks and his –
What was that?
You stand up right on the third to last step, listening.
In the half darkness in front of you, there are three paths available. To the left, employee storage, the lights above the door flickering, the sign reading “do not enter” pulsating in and out of visibility. To your right, another door, maybe an exit. Always unmarked and always locked every time your drunken curiosity got the better of you.
And across from the stairs were the bathrooms, left women, right for men.
God, what year is it? Shouldn’t it all just be gender-neutral? You think to yourself, a tad bit more aggressive than you’d usually oppose the gender binary – primarily to wash out the rising concern at the back of your neck.
You are alone down here. It’s obvious. It’s not like there’s that many places for some dastardly villain to hide. Four shut doors and three hallways. Unless some maniac was curled up under the stairs, you are the only person in the basement.
At least, the only person you can see.
You don’t realize how sweaty your hands are until you try to continue your way down the stairs. You take a step and nearly slip, the eyes you know are on you somehow laughing.
One blinking light. No where for anything to hide, so why are you so nervous? You are an adult woman, for god’s sakes. You make it to the floor, the most likely candidate for your demise behind you and –
The stairs creaked.
The empty stairs that you just walked down creaked and you nearly leap across the hallway to put space between you. Heart in your throat, you make the monumentally stupid decision and call out, “hello? Is anyone there?”
As if the serial killer was just going to announce himself, give up the whole element of surprise.
Blinking through the bleary haze of too many drinks, you take out your phone and flip on the light. A white beam chases back the encroaching darkness, a frantic worried ghost peering through the gloom. And yet, like you consciously know, there’s nothing there. But the darkness feels heavier, the eerie distant noise from the bar above so quiet and removed the sound is more of a memory – the idea of what comfort and community should sound like. But it’s not. It’s too far gone – if anything were to happen, it’d be hours before they found you. If they did at all.
“Oh my god,” you scold yourself, squeezing your eyes shut. “Get a fucking grip and go pee and then go back up those fucking stairs and –,”
Okay, that was definitely breathing.
Breathing, right behind you. Ragged, hungry, disembodied breathing, in your ear and your heart ricochets into your chest. Your own breath turns short, choppy, panic swelling into your ears, over your fingers. You think you might drop your phone, your fingers are so numb from fear, so you clutch tighter, the trembling throwing white light across the paneled wood in a craze.
Be rational, this is crazy, there is nothing down here!
The stairs snarl again and you squeak, all but bolting for the women’s bathroom, desperate to put at least some space between you and those fucking stairs, put some boundaries between –
The door is locked. When the fuck is this door ever locked?
Panic recedes to overwhelming rage because fuck, fuck, fuck, now you’re trapped in here – you can’t go back to the stairs – you rattle the handle, shaking the door against its lock –
“Fucking let me in!”
The light above the exit door goes out. And then the other. You throw all of your weight against the bathroom door. You claw at the handle, begging it to give way.
Fuck, fuck, fuck – you can hear the darkness breathing –
No, speaking – it’s saying something, chanting, mocking, calling out – calling out your name –
The door suddenly unlocks and you stumble forward – into something solid –
Its hands grab you and like a fucking fool, you played right into its trap.
It turns you, throws you up against the tile wall, its claws around your shoulders, cold tile against your cheek and you whimper. Whimper when you feel the soft pin-prick of fangs against the back of your neck – fuck, this is how it ends?? – and –
“Got you.”
That voice.
That condescending, snide, bratty, little –
You elbow the solid body behind you and Max lets out a puff of air, staggering back. You whip around, nearly snarling in his smirking, beautiful face. The bathroom is dark, black tiled walls and floors with a faux-wooden sink and dim lights across the top of the mirror. In the flushed orange light, his eyelashes encourage thick shadows under his eyes and in the collar of his throat. If it wasn’t for that insufferable smile, he’d look painted from thin brush strokes and heavy scarlet paint.
Caravaggio, eat your heart out.
“Max, what the fuck was that?”
He rolls his eyes, rubbing the spot on his chest where you hit him, at the top of his ribcage. “Oh, c’mon, it was just some fun. Saw you sneak off after you got Nita’s drink and thought I’d mess with you just a bit.”
You sigh, willing your heart to slow down, throwing your gaze to the ceiling and dropping your head against the tile.
“God, you asshole, I thought I was gonna die.” You swallow and move your hair out of your face. “You scared the shit out of me.”
“I what?”
“You scared –,”
That smile, the crack of fangs across his mouth, widens, the bottom of his lip rolling back over the cut of his teeth, those brown eyes melting into a warm, obscene black, as he meets you hip first against the wall.
His hands climb over your waist, as though daring you to hit him again, and your thigh muscles tighten. Your hands instinctively trace the exposed skin left by his opened collar at the dip of his throat when he comes closer, chest pressing up against yours, nose against your temple.
Fuck, it shouldn’t be this easy for him. You sigh through your nose, eyes rolling shut, when he nips at your cheek.
“I think you were supposed to be mad at me.”
“I am,” you groan. “I’m livid. I’m enraged. I’m –,”
His thumb brushes your ribs – not tickling, not entirely touching, but just reminding. Reminding of the force behind his touch, behind his teeth.
“Baby girl,” he chuckles softly, the sound running down your neck like rain, “you’re melting in my arms.”
“This doesn’t mean I’m scared of you.” You focus on the softness of his hair between your fingers, the heat of the back of his neck beneath the pads of your fingertips – resolutely ignoring the radiating scent of his cologne coming from up under his collar. More than once had he come across you in his apartment bathroom, sniffing that bottle like some dopey perv looking for a quick fix. Of course, instead of admonishing you, he bent you over his sink and fucked the daylights out of you, his wrists singing with the smell of that cologne. Now he wore it to work wherever he wanted something from you, particularly to overlook some pesky lines of legalise.
In the hallowed darkness of the bar’s bathroom, he drops a single kiss just below your jaw, inches beneath your ear. He grumbles when your pulse there quickens, and again his fangs find a curve of skin to press against – a reminder.
Always reminding, always lurking, a threat without a promise.
And he knows exactly what that does to you.
You release a full body shudder when his hands drop lower, guiding you back against the wall, fingers rounding around your thighs. Like interlocking pieces, your bodies slide together, your arms curling around his neck, the heat of his chest branding yours as it forces you against the wall. You’re breathing all wrong again, but for different reasons this time. You catch a flash of the ink-well darkness of his eyes when he nuzzles out of your neck to admire the mess he has made of your skirt.
“Can I fuck you in this or is this thing too tight?” He asks, like he specifically didn’t get on his hands and knees and beg you to wear that gray pencil skirt only twelve hours earlier.
You lean up, snagging his bottom lip between your teeth, kissing him roughly and showing him he’s not the only one with a little bite. He groans softly, one hand curling into your hair at the base of your skull, and he licks you, from the front of your lips up to the valley of your mouth. He tastes like the sweetness of his whiskey n’ coke, his tongue rubbing the flexing muscle of yours, the sharpness of your molars. You could spend hours just sucking on his plush mouth.
Maybe he did scare you. Maybe he should have scared you more, the threat of anyone discovering your relationship a real danger to both of your careers. Maybe it should have scared you, how little you cared about any of that when he palmed your breast over your shirt.
You inhaled over his mouth, popping off his lips with a moan, his hand cupping you roughly as he dove in to suck marks on your neck. Every moment that passes, you feel your skin ratcheting up with heat, blood almost hot. He thumbs your perk nipple through your shirt and you arch your chest, his massive palm nearly cupping your ribs to your spine.
“Max, either you figure out how to fuck me in this skirt or you owe me a new one.”
“You want me to rip it off you?” He slurs, eyelids heavy, his thigh slides in between your knees, the fabric preventing him from going higher, to the place where you both need him. You groan in frustration and his hands squeeze your hips at the sound. “Tell me fast, baby, because I can’t–,”
“For the love of – just fucking lift it up–,” His hands fumble over yours as your fingers curl under the hem, his own want making that brilliant mind for numbers almost stupid. His warm fingers overwhelm your own as they push your skirt up your waist, and then dig around the line of your pantyhose.
“Jesus Christ, are you trying to Fort Knox me out of your pussy? Why are there so many layers?”
You hiss at him as you slide out of your heels and shove your nylons to the ground, hopping on one leg to take them off your feet. “It’s like you’ve never undressed me before.”
Freed of the chaos of your underthings, Max’s hands rush to his belt, the clinking of the metal sending shivers down your back and straight up your cunt. He doesn’t notice because he’s obsessively watching your thighs. “I’ve never undressed you with our coworkers a floor above us and probably becoming increasingly suspicious about where the fuck we are–,”
You take him by the back of the neck, hand clenching around the starch white of his shoulder. He comes to you, zipper digging into your hip bone as he pulls you up off your feet. For once that chatty mouth is quiet, open and wet with desire as he takes in your flushed face, the blood pumping under your tits. Max is nothing if not almost supernaturally consumed by the look, feel, texture, and taste of your tits.
The look on his face is one of those reasons you tend to throw caution to the wind, why your heart almost feels too big for your chest, whenever he’s around.
He hooks an arm around your low back, tilting your hips forward. You feel the heat of his cock somewhere below you and it takes all of your strength not to grind down.
“Max –,” he’s not even inside of you and you’re already begging. You bite down on his ear to stifle whatever was rising up your throat.
“Hang on, baby, I gotta make sure you . . .”
Using your shoulders as counterbalance, he holds himself up against the wet warmth of your cunt, breath stuttering as he rubs the head of his cock against your slick folds. That bratty aloofness is gone; he wants to sink so, so deep into you.
“Fuck, baby, I didn’t even get you ready – but you’re already so wet –,”
You don’t resist grinding down now and he knocks his shoulders forward, needing movement, but fighting against the urge to buck up into you, gasping from the feeling of your cunt.
“Please, Max, just –,”
“Yeah, I know, baby, okay, just, I gotta . . .”
He angles himself and you arch your back, unable to watch with the mess of your skirt around your waist, but he finds it, finds your opening, the place he loves to mark, and without any warning, thrusts his length up into you.
The stretch, the surprise, the ear-ringing split between being empty and then stuffed so full – you can’t help but moan so loudly, you sing to the ceiling. For a moment, your bodies hum with the stillness, the blood in your cunt pulsating around him, you claw at his broad shoulders, need him closer, needing that smell of him that haunts your empty bed as far inside of you as his cock is. His hips stutter and he presses one hand against the tile by your ribs, teeth clenched against the sensation.
“When I fuck you, every time feels like the first time. Every goddamn time.”
It’s not particularly the confession it could be, but you shake your head, clearing it of anything stupid like feelings for Max Phillips, your chin brushing his jaw, his nose against your ear.
“Then do it,” you whine. “Just fuck me, Max.”
With a groan that could be mistaken for a snarl, he lifts you both up right, pushing your hips down and spreading yourself over him. You lock your ankles around his back a second before he pulls out halfway, then to jerk back in with such force and precision your eyes roll to the back of your head. He sets a pace that has pleasure weaving a tight drum just under your stomach. Each sweaty thrust fires sparks up your spine. He really is so fucking good at this.
This is the release you need, you both need. Sure, it’s an after-effect of having a high-powered job, but it’s also more than that. Max fucking you is unfortunately very often the highlight of your day. He knows what you need, how you need it – how hard to drive his cock into you, it makes you tongue-tied and dizzy. The fast pump of his cock, how it feels to split you apart over and over again, the back zipper of your skirt digging into your back – it’s too fucking good.
“Don’t know where you get off giving me orders,” he grunts, the pounding of his hips into yours rapidly shoving you up your ascension. The slapping, wet noise in the empty room is obscene. “I’m a fucking VP, little girl, and I–,”
You tense your muscles around his cock and he fumbles, his knees buckling momentarily.
“Do not fucking bring up the org chart right now,” you hiss, your own edge yanked away when he stills. “I’m almost there–,”
Quicker than he’s been all night, Max lunges forward, mouth open and teeth bare. He bites your neck and then he bites you.
Fangs puncture your skin, not deep, but enough that your body is thrown into a messy coil of nerves and adrenaline. It knows you could die like this, even if you’ve only ever called the vampire a mosquito to his face, and triggering a self-preservation instinct, your body trembles from the sudden blast of sensation.
Your pupils dilate further than they were, your skin becomes overly aware of every drop of sweat, every flutter of hair, every rub of flesh – and your fucking nerve-endings feel like static, as if brushed by lightning.
Pleasure so-white hot it almost burns roars up your spine, slick coating his cock inside you, and you cry out. Wail in his ear. Begging him to make it better. To give you your release. The feel of his cock pounding up inside your now-overly ripe cunt brings tears to your eyes.
“Oh, fuck – fuck, fuck, fuck – Max, p-please –,”
“Can you handle it if I touch you?”
You shake your head. “Yes, yes, please, touch me.”
“You can’t keep screaming like that,” he scolds you breathlessly, the punch of his hips bouncing you against his cheek. For all his vampire stamina, the flush of exertion across his cheeks is truly staggering and a triumph for your ego. Flecks of blood dot his mouth. “Someone’s going to come looking.”
“I don’t care,” you groan, angling your hips to take more of him. His hand not on your back cups under your knee, tugging it higher up his torso. His pace is relentless, overwhelming – with his weight on top of you, and his cock up under you, inside you, you’re consumed by Max Phillips. “Whatever you do, d-don’t stop. Don’t stop.”
“You scared I’m gonna?”
“Yes,” you whine. You can feel your heart pounding out its shape into your ribs.
“Good girl. And good girls get to fucking come.”
Balancing your increasingly limp body, he holds you up right, his hand snaking beneath your skirt, between the sweat of your thighs and his torso, and –
He thumbs that buzzing bundle of nerves, “come for me, baby”, and you do. You come screaming, the tension snapping, vision sparkling with stars, and you are shoved over the edge. You don’t know you’re wailing his name until he comes too, all concern for getting caught seemingly gone as he begs you to continue as he fills you up with his pearly, gooey cum:
“That’s right, say my name. Say my fucking name, sweetheart.”
His hips thrust weakly, some instinct choking him until he makes sure every drop of him stays in you. You’re going to be dripping for hours.
His skin is fire-hot beneath his starched white shirt. You’ll be thinking about that for days afterward when you see him in the hallways of the office.
This is what scares you the most. When you realize it's over and neither one of you want it to be.
Shaking from exertion, Max slowly sets you down, unwinding your legs from his waist, your ankles trembling against the cold tile. You couldn’t imagine putting your nylons back on, the thought of that pressure against the curve of your lower stomach while you are so full of his cum practically unbearable.
He lifts his head from your neck, eyes intentionally avoiding you as he inspects where he bit you, breath coming in ragged, long gasps. Sweat darkens the hair at his temple and that post-fuck blush is staggeringly gorgeous on him. He pricks his thumb on the sharp edge of his fangs and with a scarlet bead balanced on his thumb, he smears his blood against the puncture wounds, like someone would wipe dirt away from a loved one’s skin.
It doesn’t really hurt, but the effects leave your neck tingling. You’d never say this out loud, but you fucking loved when he did that.
He steps away without looking at you, giving you time to adjust your skirt, your hair in the mirror. You help him straighten his collar because it’s not like he can use the mirror to check himself.
He grins, the flush fading far too rapidly from his cheeks.
“What are you going to tell them?” You nod to the stairs on the other side of the wall. “This can’t look good for us.”
“You got attacked by a werewolf on the way to the bathroom. I saved you.”
“Thought you said werewolves weren’t scary.”
He shakes his head, smirking, then presses a kiss to your temple. “Just said I was the bigger monster between the two of us.”
“My hero.” You turn your head until his lips drink in yours.
It is dangerous, your feelings for him.
He taps you on the butt, pulling away. The lines around his eyes do an excellent job of masking the hurt in the brownness of his eyes.
“Gimme five, then you come up. Can’t have you looking so completely debauched.”
He kisses you again, betraying whatever amounted to “cool and collected” he attempted for, and without another word, he slides out the door.
His smell lingers in the air long after he does. The throbbing of your cunt also serves as a fantastically bitter reminder.
You go back to the mirror because yes, you could not have been more obvious if you were wearing a sign that said, “hi, yes, I did just get my back blown out.” You try to fold your hair around your ears at least a dozen times before pulling it back in what you hope to be a casual pony-tail. You toss your nylons into the trash can, pleading that the “oh, I tore them in the bathroom” excuse might hold an ounce of water.
You think about what’s waiting for you a floor up and your stomach clenches.
Fucking Max could upset the dynamics of your little group, your little Monster Squad. Whatever the stupid office bylines were, your happy-hour social group is one of the bright spots in your life, especially while working at a place run by those bastard Overlords.
And Max knew that. He didn’t want to risk your long-term happiness for his short-term.
Max didn’t scare you because he was a monster.
He scared you precisely because he wasn’t.
You open the bathroom door and return to the world.
#max phillips#max phillips x reader#max phillips x you#max phillips fanfiction#max phillips x f!reader#pedro pascal character fanfiction#bloodsucking bastards#max phillips smut#pedro pascal character#pedro pascal characters
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heartbeat (thorin oakenshield x female!modern! reader)
gif by me!!
desc. - reader puts her CPR lessons to good use when thorin's on the brink of death. (inspired by an imagine by @imaginexhobbit but make it sad🫶 also i listened to "farewell to dobby" while reading this, it adds so muchhh)
warnings - angst 💔
word count - 2.7k
For most of the time you’d been traveling with Thorin and his merry band of warriors, you could only account a few times you provided yourself useful to the group. Bofur was a whittler and toy maker, Oin a healer, Ori a scribe. Thorin and his sister-sons, the rightful heir to a kingdom. Even Bilbo had squeezed his way into a position of burglary, though he was hardly fit, and was still fighting to prove himself.
You?
A few stories around the campfire. Some questions answered about where you’d appeared from out of nowhere in particular. Mouth watering modern food recipes you babbled on about, over rabbit stew Bombur happily served on the cold nights on the road. And sure, you were getting good with a sword, but not nearly as skillful as the fearless fighter Dwalin.
You could see the malevolence and distaste in Thorin’s eyes when Gandalf decided for himself that you would make a fine addition to the group. After all, some otherworldly stranger happening upon them just as their fateful quest began was no coincidence. To him it meant something. But to the leader of the group? Danger? Deadweight? You couldn’t tell. Whatever it was, it settled behind his cold, steel-blue eyes and swelled whenever he watched you fail miserably at every task given.
You simply weren’t built for a world like this.
Thorin didn’t hate you. He wasn’t necessarily fond of you either. And how you longed to fit in, impress him maybe. Break past whatever tough exterior that he used to keep a distance between the two of you. Pushing too much would surely annoy him, so you opted to keep to yourself, sitting back and placing yourself near Gandalf and the witty Bilbo Baggins, who seemed to have walked a few miles in your own shoes. If he could wear them, that is. Hoping maybe one day the King under the mountain would come around. Maybe.
But now, soaring over the horizon of a morning sun and above the towering mountains, on the feathered back of a massive bird, Bilbo had proven himself in his bravery, and you were alone and useless in your skills.
You were seated atop the same eagle as the halfling, right behind another that carried Thorin’s limp body in its talons, wind and the worried cries of his nephews rushing through your hair and past your ears. Azog’s fight was not an easy one. Not that you could do much anyways, dangling uselessly from a blazing pine tree and fingers slipping from its scorching branches. But Thorin, ever the brave, was taken down quickly.
Thank the lord for Gandalf’s endless alliances.
Now, the eagles circled a plateau, oddly sticking out from above high treetops like a sore thumb, and began to descend to its slanted surface where each member of the company jumped off. Some destination this was, hundreds of feet off the ground. You’d think they might find a safer spot to land this band of underground dwelling travelers but beggars can’t be choosers. At least you were out of harm's way for the time being. The eagle you and Bilbo rode flew low enough for you to hop off and land safely on the cliff’s surface, then turn and see Thorin, unconscious and unmoving, set down gently in front of the rest of the group.
They all crowded around him, shouting and shaking his body vigorously, but to no avail. Your stomach dropped when you heard one of them mutter a word that sounded like “dead”.
You rushed over, just getting a few glimpses of his face from behind the heads of thick hair and heavy fur coats circling him like vultures, Bilbo at your heels and following in curiosity.
“He’s not breathing!”
“Thorin! Thorin, wake up!” A hand tapped on the side of his face.
You immediately began shouting to clear some room. The sea of worried dwarves parted for you, just enough room to sling your haversack off your shoulders and lean down on your knees, bringing an ear to his mouth. They were right. Not a breath to be heard. Nor a pulse, you discovered, after placing your fingers to the side of his cold neck.
“No…no no, no.”
The company shared confused mutters and looks, worry lines still etched like canyons in their faces as they watched you clamor to unclasp his thick cloak and pull away as much clothing as you could from his chest.
Now, you were no doctor. Not even a medical student for that matter. Just barely scraping by with an art degree and two, low paying part-time jobs back home. Wherever that was. But, thankfully, those required CPR lessons back in junior high suddenly came rushing back to you, and you were gonna put to the best use you could.
You locked your elbows, flattened your palms, and then hastily pressed against the brute of his firm chest. Mahal, it was stubborn, and the armored shirt between your hands and his heart was no help, but acting quickly spared no time for shedding any more of his clothes. Again and again you pressed, one, two, just how the instructor taught you with her quick tongue and loud voice.
“An even pace! You’re going to lose him!”
The recall made your head spin, especially considering it might have been a bit comedic at the time, trying to revive an armless mannequin on the tile floor of your classroom. But under the steady pressure of your palms was a real person, teetering on the edge of life and death.
Gandalf landed somewhere behind you, being the last to touch ground, but he was forgotten in the sea of deep voices asking what you could possibly be doing.
By the 16th compression, you were beginning to break a sweat. Twenty, twenty one…
“Lass… what are ya’ doing?” Bofur's voice, usually friendly and jovial, was a low and cowering one. His question left the rest of the group quiet. You heard, but you didn’t answer. That would be for later when this was over. Preferably with a happy ending.
Thirty.
You moved to pinch Thorin's nose shut, tilting his head just slightly off the ground with the other hand tangled in his hair and breathed into his open mouth.
Any and all bewildered muttering was lost on the focus you had, to watch for any movement in his relaxed face.
You breathed again, and then bent over to listen. Nothing.
Now things began to get more grave than you’d taken them before.
You moved back to begin compressions again, this time pressing harder and deeper against his heart. You lifted a forearm to wipe the sweat gathering on your brow.
In your class, you were supposed to take turns, and rotate when one got tired so they could properly compress. But this wasn’t class.
Thorin was beneath the weight of your hands and his face was losing color.
“Come on… come on Thorin.”
You lost count after the 19th shove downwards, adrenaline kicking in and tears blurring the corners of your eyes as Thorin convulsed.
A warm hand settled on your shoulder above.
“Lass… he-” you smacked it away, anger bubbling in the pit of your stomach like fire that you spat out.
“No! No he’s not, n-not yet.”
Again, you breathed into his airway, heavy and even, like you were supposed to. You were doing everything right. So why wasn’t it working? Why wasn’t he breathing?
This was the quietest you had ever heard the company. Only birds and the sound of your exhausted, heaving breaths and choking sobs floating in the cool morning air.
You moved back to compressions, starting again, one, two, three. You were begging him, hysterically pleading his unresponsive body to kick start back up.
“Please Thorin. Come on.”
Now tears rolled down the apple of your cheeks, warm and bothersome and blinding, falling over your hands and his clothes. Your arms ached at the now desperate shoving against his heart. You looked pathetic, like a widow begging for scraps of Thorin’s lifeline, something to get him through. The ground dug harshly into your knees, bruising and irritating them through the pants as they dully scraped with each movement.
Twenty two.
You were slowing down, growing weary and tired from the work. But it wasn’t good enough. At this point, with the silent stares, you knew that even the ever stubborn dwarves had lost hope for their leader some time ago. And you had too, but now you were already getting past the twenty-fifth press down. Curse the lot of them, just staring down at you with pity as you sniffed and wiped the snot and tears from your face. And curse the beauty of the morning sun peaking over the mountains, so regal and beautiful, and staring down at the morose show of a sad little human weeping to herself.
“Please… please, God you idiot. Running down there like that.”
A cry frogged its way out of the back of your throat, raspy and gurgling. You lift his head for the third time, sniffed in and then pushed your shaking breath as hard as you could manage, pulled away, then back down to press your quivering lips upon his cold ones and-
A breath. Soft and faint, just barely there, and it slightly cooled the tears on your face.
You froze, staring down at Thorin to see his eyes twitch just slightly underneath their lids. Another exhale fled him, his time much more apparent, and his brows furrowed as he stirred awake. The gasps and shouts from the company, scrambling over and circling him like they did before to help him up as he came to.
“He’s alive!”
“A miracle! Bless the Valor!”
You lifted yourself from the ground, onto your feet, but the shock of your attempts actually working, and exhaustion, just left you to stumble backwards onto your butt, crying harder than before, in relief and joy, nonetheless sobbing like your life depended on it. You gave into the fatigue of your muscles, the tiredness from the adrenaline, and exhaustion from your sobs, and fell onto your back, covering your eyes with a forearm with the other limply laying on the ground next to you. Bilbo kneeled next to you and laid his small hand over yours, watching as the king was pulled to his feet and grimacing at the noises of his jovial party celebrating with shouting and laughing.
“You did it,” The burglar said quietly, just enough for you to hear. It wasn’t just amazement in his voice, but reassurance. Something to ground you, like the warm squeeze of his hand.
You trembled, breaths coming in and out with a shiver.
Thorin’s dazed when you slowly sit up off the ground to look at him, swaying about and being jostled as each excited dwarf embraced and jumped around him, and an arm shouldered over Kìli’s to keep his balance.
“You were dead.” Dwalin’s normally stony, hard-set face, was graced with the most horrified look you’d ever seen in your life, eyes widened and brows twisted upwards in awe. That seemed to settle everyone down enough, and shake Thorin from the rest of his stupor. Once again, the world around you was blessed with silence that you hadn’t gotten a taste of since you arrived. It was short lived.
“Dead?” Thorin asked, incredulous and confused.
“Ye’ weren’t breathing lad!” Gloin chimed in, “we thought you were gone!”
The king’s eyes narrow, and shift between the members of his party, blinking away a head rush.
“How is that possible?” The second set of words he’d spoken since he screamed Azog’s name. Thorin’s voice was low and rasping. He slowly turned, following the astounded, wide-eyed stares from the surrounding dwarves, boring into you like you were some God.
You sniffled, wiping at your reddened, runny nose with the sleeve of your shirt.
He lifted a jeweled hand to graze over his heart, where you were reviving him, just staring at the sad sight of your tearful eyes.
“She saved ya’, Thorin,” Balin’s voice is serious and somber, breaking the silence, “Brough’ ya’ back from near death. Mahal knows how.”
Thorin’s eyes grew sharp, brows furrowing and piercing into you, where you pulled yourself to sit on your knees. His fingers tightened around the cloth where his hand laid, clutching at his chest.
“You,” he gruffed, “You did this?”
“I-I… I didn’t know if it was gonna work.” Your throat tightened and squeezed. Great, even more tears flowed down your face. Thorin’s eyes held the same glint that made your stomach twist with embarrassment and shame. The least he could do is offer a nod of gratitude towards you. Instead, he tore free from the group, ripping his arm away off his nephew’s shoulder and stumbling towards you like a drunken fool, with thudding footsteps.
Dwalin calls after him uselessly, just hanging back and letting the scene play out.
When he stops in front of you, eyes firey and broad chest heaving breaths in and out, standing a few inches over where you’re knelt, all you can do is try not to look away. You’re glad you hadn’t.
A boa-tight grip took hold of your heart and tightened when you saw his features soften, worry lines and crow's feet disappearing in the appearance of a small, incredulous smile. His softened eyes lined themselves with the hint of tears catching like jewels in the morning sun. Thorin dropped down to his knees to meet your height in a hug that you could never have prepared yourself for. You freeze for a moment, completely dumbfounded. Thorin, fearless, merciless, King Under the Mountain was hugging, no, embracing you, with the force of a thousand winds and strength of ten thousand men, because he was alive, thanks to you. And you hugged him back, pulling closer than you already were, and grasping at the back of his shirt and cried into his shoulder. The dwarves cheered in excitement behind Thorin. Through the yelling and praise, you can hear Thorin’s low voice next to your ear.
“I cannot repay this deed. Thank you.”
You pull away to see the kindest, warmest smile your eyes had ever been blessed to lay upon. It knocked the breath from your lungs. The corners of his eyes and the arch of his nose wrinkled upwards. It suited his face much more than the cold and stoic stares he was prone to.
“I wasn’t sure you were gonna make it.” Was all you could huff out.
“Yet I did. I misunderstood you greatly.” Thorin wiped a tear from the side of your face, “You make a member of this group. My life is indebted to you. And you,”
He peered over your shoulder at a wide-eyed Bilbo Baggins, standing just past your shoulder. You helped him stand from the ground, arm linked in his to meet the hobbit.
“You nearly got yourself killed,” he slipped free from your arm, and started toward Bilbo, just as he did you. “Did I not say you would be a burden? That you would not survive in the wild?”
Your face fell, akin to Bilbo’s solemn look. He stood there, taking the string of insults like a punching bag.
“That you had no place amongst us?”
And then he pulled the hobbit in just as he did you.
“I have never been so wrong, in all my life.”
Your heart reeled, and this time you smiled along with the rest of the company’s rejoices, watching the surprised grin spread across Bilbo’s face. Thorin pulled away.
“I am sorry I doubted you.”
“No, no. I would have doubted me, too.”
A hand planted itself on your shoulder, and you turned to look at Gandalf and his sagely smile.
“You’ve made yourself quite the home in these dwarves' hearts, young lady,” he said. It was comedic, the way his silvery hair and beard dramatically blew in the wind, “Perhaps once this has settled, you stay with them. I think you’d find yourself more than welcome in Erebor’s Halls.”
You hummed in thought. The band of travelers were gathered on the edge of the plateau, looking out in the distance towards the peak of the Lonely Mountain, calling their name through the mist.
Thorin turned back to look at you over his shoulder with a gentle smile, and nodded his head to you in a silent thanks. The ghost of a blush spread across his face.
“I just might.”
(aaaaaah! what did you guys think??? :3 it feels wonderful to get a full fic out after so long, ive had this idea in my head for dayyys ugh 💔 please send me some requests loves, i'm in desperate need of some comfort fics! don't forget to reblog and like!! love yas! 🩷🌺🌸🌷💝💞)
tag list : @kumqu4t @tolkien-fantasy @blueberryrock @to-be-frank-i-dont-care @luna-xial @legolaslovely @fizzyxcustard @pistachiozombie @imaginexhobbit @beenovel
#thorin oakenshield#xreader#thorin oakenshield x reader#peter jackson#thorins company#the hobbit#thorin x reader#the hobbit x reader#angst#happy ending#yayyy#i need thorin#tolkien#modern! reader
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2D, Murdoc, Noodle , Russel - Relationship Headcanon
warning : implied drinking&smoking, fluff, hurt/comfort, no use of Y/n, reader is gender neutral
Info : I came back with Cracker Island into the lore and I love the four with all my heart so here have a little something. Have fun reading ;)
~~~~~~~~~~
Murdoc :
°The band founder himself is someone who either disappears after a one night stand or stays with you forever (of course if there's a chance of breakfast and alcohol he'll always stay anyway)
°Even if you don't believe it, he's a great romantic and love maker. Especially intimacy is a way for him to show love when it's not playing his guitar. That this closeness to his body means more to him than it seems he only feels safe with his beloved when you look at his past is a step forward.
°Because his past also haunts him from time to time, especially on bad days when everything seems hopeless, but it is the moments when he appreciates his loved one the most, when he feels the arms around him and the embrace before.
°Private concerts for his partner are a must, no matter if the other three are "forced" into it or not, his sweetheart deserves the best.
°Insists that during the cult time his hot flame is the chosen one. ,,Our Holy Pink Flame!" he had shouted through the street with a megaphone as his favorite walked beside him wrapped in pink.
°But even when he wasn't trying to escape from death, the devil, Bruce Willis or others, he tried to shed this "bad" side, to put away the alcohol, not to smoke and not to be violent, all for his darling.
°In the free time he has besides the band, he also likes to play tennis and dederball with his lover, which he is impressively good at.
~~~~~~~~~~
2-D :
°Roller skate dates are a must on a sunny day or when you are at the beach. He will hold the hand of his bunny the wide smile on his lips nothing but love and joy.
°Zombie movies even though he is always a little scared are somehow his favorite movies and on movie nights when they both have time together he loves to watch them.
°Of course, small private concerts are a must when he has given his heart to someone.
°2-D loves to watch his bunny with a gentle smile on his lips while he puts his love for them into song lyrics. Whether it's just a little insider between you or your whole being 2-D builds it in.
°But besides the lyrics the others casually perform with him, he teaches his heart to play the guitar and piano. Gently guiding his darling and rewarding them with kisses.
°But of course tea time must not be neglected and if his partner is not from England he explains the importance of tea and especially peppermint tea for breakfast.
°But even in the darker moments when he has been beaten by Murdoc, injured again or something else happens to him, he is most grateful that his bunny takes care of him.
°His heart tries to help him with his painkiller problem, stays with him, takes his hand and tries to wrestle through the pain by humming his songs.
°And trips on his motorcycle every now and then to a little cafe or music store just another outing for his love for his heart.
~~~~~~~~~~
Noodle :
°Noodle energetic, cute and friendly a companion she met at one of her many concerts. Her cherry blossom is everything to her and a way to experience love for the first time, not love for her "family" but love for a single person.
°The guitarist, like the others in the band, insists on giving private concerts. Sometimes together with the other three to show a nice overall picture but also more often alone, the guitar mixes with traditional Japanese sounds and it becomes a special experience.
°Noodle always tried to be cheerful and cheer up her darling when things were not going well. Whether it was playing the guitar, going on a date to dance in one of the many clubs or playing chess. She knows that her partner is there for her when she is not feeling well, especially once a month, but otherwise every day.
°She just loves to ask her cherry blossom and try to teach them to play the guitar. Whether on a children's instrument or her own with the right music and Noodle's gentle instructions and songs she sings along.
°Above all, the relationship between them only grows when they travel to Japan. The country she actually came from and tried to get closer to her inner side there. They immersed themselves in the culture together and had a wonderful time.
°From trying on kimonos, the traditional Kabuki theater or eating mochi on New Year's Day. There was a lot to do together and even more love to share. In a land of endless possibilities, there were always new things to see.
°Especially when they both come back, they make soba noodles, the guitarist's favorite food, for everyone in the kitchen.
°But there are also quiet moments together cuddling and hugging and taking care of the common pet: Noodle's beloved bonsai tree.
~~~~~~~~~~
Russel :
°The band's drummer lost his heart to his cookie when he fell asleep somewhere and was woken up by the very person who stole his heart and drove away his demon.
°It was a meeting in the evening and he was talking about musk, he brought his love home just to get the number and from then on, boom, it just happened.
°A trip to an all you can eat buffet for breakfast followed by a visit to an instrument store and it was the perfect day for him and his partner.
°Because as it turned out, his cookie would love to be able to play an instrument and how could he say no. Which is why he promptly set about teaching his lover to play the drums.
°The two of them practiced together, alked, cuddled, gave each other rewarding kisses and ate cake that they had baked together.
°But even on the not-so-good days, when he thought about his dead friends, the demon or anything else that happened, he loved his sweetheart for always giving him a hug, a hand on his shoulder holding him and saying everything would be okay.
°It was a hold he needed all too often and was happy to get from his cookie, something he especially appreciated. Because no matter when, where or how, they were there for each other and that was what mattered.
°Even together or alone to help Russel, they would try to play ghost hunter and catch the demon. the main thing was that he could sleep peacefully but he usually did that without it when he was cuddling with his sweetheart.
~~~~~~~~~~
#gorillaz#gorillaz band#2d gorillaz#stuart pot#2d x reader#murdoc gorillaz#murdoc niccals#murdoc x reader#noodle gorillaz#noodle x reader#russel gorillaz#russel x reader
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