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roosterforme · 10 days

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Aim for the Sky Part 1 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Deployments feel longer when you're alone and pregnant. You know Bradley wants to be home for all of the milestones, but you also know he trusts you to take care of yourself. That trust goes both ways when it feels like ages since you've heard from him.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, swearing, pregnancy

Length: 4000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

You hadn't spoken to your husband in more than three weeks. Not once since he left on a deployment of undetermined length. When you were on base, tucked away in your office or working on a project in the lab, it wasn't so bad. You could almost get lost in the idea of heading home to start dinner and find him working on a project. You could nearly pretend he'd be ready to wrap you up in his arms and ask about your day. But you knew better than to drift all the way into that daydream, because he wasn't there, and you didn't know when he would be back.

At least Tramp greeted you with excitement when you walked in each day, but you suspected that was partially because he knew you were about to feed him. Your friends kept you busy on the weekends, and Jake stopped by the Craftsman on occasion with Jeremiah when Cat needed a break. Today, he even made a comment about the multitude of pallets lined up on your driveway that prevented you from pulling all the way up to where you usually parked.

"When Rooster gets back, I'll give him a hand building that jungle gym," Jake drawled as you handed a cracker to Jeremiah. "We'll have it finished in a weekend, and then Jer can test it out."

You watched Jake kiss Cat's son on the cheek as you said, "He can teach the Nugget all about the slide and the swings when the time comes." Your belly felt a little tender as you ran your hand over your shirt, loving the feel of the bump beneath your fingers. You were nineteen weeks along, and when Bradley left, you'd still looked just bloated. Now you were starting to get round in all the places that made you excited for what was to come. And after so many weeks of non stop nausea and vomiting, you were happy you could finally eat.

Jake snorted. "You've taken to calling the baby a Nugget, too? Thought that was just your husband."

You rolled your eyes and flicked his arm. "Maybe I miss him, okay? Like a lot." Your voice shook even though you were trying for a teasing tone, and Jake's features softened. You quickly asked, "Are you two staying for dinner?"

Jeremiah was such a sweet toddler, and you were so lonely today, you were hoping Jake would say yes. But he kissed you on the cheek before he said, "Not tonight. I told Cat we'd be home by six."

You just nodded, once again afraid your voice might shake. You'd be fine; it wasn't like you needed someone with you all the time. It wasn't like you couldn't get through the night.

Once they were gone, you made yourself some dinner and ate it while you stood at the kitchen counter. Occasionally you dropped some bites for Tramp who snapped them up out of the air before anything ever hit the ground.

"Don't tell your dad that this is the reason you beg at the table," you muttered as he sat next to your foot and wagged his tail wildly. Even the veterinarian didn't know exactly how old he was, but he still seemed like a puppy sometimes. You could already picture him and the baby playing together.

Your gaze caught on the newest set of ultrasound photos which you had stacked up at the end of the kitchen counter. The appointment with Dr. Morris made you cry afterwards, because Bradley wasn't there to gush over the baby. You drove his Bronco that day, and you sat quietly trying to compose yourself while enveloped in his smell. He had some older ultrasound images tucked in the sun visor, and you wanted him to see the new ones so badly, you ached.

"I'm going to get ready for bed," you groaned at Tramp even though it was still early. You took a bath with the floating thermometer Bradley bought for you to use while pregnant. You drank a can of ginger ale instead of your preferred pink champagne, and you listened to one of the playlists he made for you.

When you were climbing in bed, you took the note he left you from your nightstand. It was folded into a paper airplane that looked exactly like his tattoo. He'd even written Baby Girl on it like always. Very carefully, you unfolded it and read the short message that you already had memorized, because it just meant something more in his handwriting.

I love both of you so much, sometimes I feel like I'm dreaming. Nothing could be this good. There's no way I get to return home to everything I ever wanted. I don't know when I'll be back, so I need you to take care of yourself and the Nugget until I can take over my duties again. I won't be gone a minute longer than I need to be.

You shut your light off before your tears could fall, and Tramp snuggled in next to you. When you thought about Bradley, you pictured him in his bunk. Maybe he was alone. Maybe he was with Reuben. Maybe he was rooming with a different officer. But it didn't matter, because you could easily imagine him practically spilling out of the narrow bed, one knee bent with the pink and blue notebook propped up while he wrote to the baby.

When your phone started ringing in the pitch darkness, you jumped, practically falling out of bed as you reached for your lamp and phone at the same time. It was a FaceTime call. It said restricted caller. You screeched his name, far too loud for your voice which has been resting just seconds ago. You shoved your glasses into place so you could see him, and shouted, "Bradley! Roo! Are you okay?"

"Hey, Baby Girl," he crooned, and his smiling face came into focus. You practically dropped your phone as he said, "I'm fine. Sorry it's so late."

You felt giddy laughter bubbling up inside you; the idea of your husband apologizing for calling and making your whole week was absurd. "No, no, no, this is perfect," you insisted. "This is great.

Bradley laughed and said, "I miss you so fucking much. Wish I was in bed right there with you."

"Me too," you replied. "It got chilly here tonight, and Tramp isn't as snuggly as you are." You missed his warmth and voice so much. It was almost Halloween, and the nights felt way too long.

His voice was just a whisper as he said, "Tell me about the Nugget."

Your smile felt overpowering. "Dr. Morris said the Nugget looked great when I was there two weeks ago."

"Two weeks ago," he groaned, rubbing his hands along his face. "Sweetheart... I already missed so much." When he looked at the screen again, you were out of bed and on the move. "Where are you going?"

You flipped on the hallway light and said, "To get the ultrasounds to show you. I left them on the kitchen counter."

You propped up your phone and held up one of the photos so he could see the baby. "There's my Nugget," he said, voice thick with emotion as you held up a second image. "Fucking cutest baby I've ever seen."

You couldn't help but laugh, feeling better than you had in weeks. "I liked this one the best. I think it looks like the baby is waving hello."

"Shit," he gasped. "You're right. I can't wait to wallpaper our bedroom with copies of these."

You pulled the ultrasound away and gasped, "You're probably not even joking."

"I'm definitely not even joking."

You leaned on the counter and got a little closer to your phone as you whispered, "Another week or so, and I can go in for an anatomy scan."

Now you felt guilty as he nodded with his lips pressed together. "You get to find out if the Nugget is a boy or a girl."

Tears stung your eyes. You could already imagine him holding the baby in his arms, loving him or her no matter what. "Yeah," you said with a nod. "But I don't really want to do that without you there too."

It took him a moment to respond. "I wish I could get home in time to hold your hand and find out in person. But you know I don't care one way or the other. The only nice thing is that we can start narrowing down baby names soon. I actually wrote down a few that I kind of like in the Nugget notebook earlier."

Your heart swelled. "I can't wait to read all of your notebook entries. And if you're not home for my next appointment, I'll be practically vibrating with anticipation until I get to tell you if it's a boy Nugget or a girl Nugget."

You wanted to show him how your belly looked more curvy now, but when you and he both parted your lips to speak, you heard someone shouting in the same room as him on the aircraft carrier. Now your husband wasn't looking at you at all.

"Bradshaw! It's time. Get into your flight suit."

"Yes, Sir," Bradley said before glancing back down.

"You have to go," you sobbed, unaware that you were actually crying until you heard yourself.

"I do," he said quickly. "Right now. Listen, I love you. More than anything. You and the baby both, okay? I love you."

"I love you, too," you sobbed as your lips trembled. "So much."

"I'll be home soon," he told you earnestly. "I love you."

Then you were standing alone in your kitchen at 4:48 in the morning with tears streaming down your face. The abrupt end to the call set your nerves on edge just seconds after you had been feeling so good. You gripped the edge of your kitchen counter; that wasn't a regular call to order, that was the start of his mission you just witnessed.

There was no chance of you falling asleep again, so you let yourself cry while Tramp put his head down on your bare foot and licked your ankle.

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Halloween came, and you could barely manage to give out candy to the neighborhood kids. You'd had Bradley with you for the previous two Halloween nights in a row, and this year you didn't even want to buy a costume without him. You were exactly twenty weeks along, approximately halfway through your pregnancy, but it was hard to be excited even as groups of kids ran up and down the sidewalk.

You sat on your porch and dropped goodie bags into pillowcases and plastic pumpkins while Tramp barked inside the house. You commented on all of the cute costumes. You cried a little bit. Your emotions were all over the place as you tried to imagine what it might be like going out to collect candy a year from now with your baby in a tiny costume.

When the trick-or-treating ended, you went inside and opened a miniature sized Hershey bar for yourself, and then you almost screamed. The chocolate fell to the floor as you reached for your belly. Tramp looked between you and the fallen treat as you sank down onto your knees.

"Oh my God," you gasped, eyes squeezed shut tight. You could feel the baby moving. It was kind of a wild fluttering sensation. You rubbed your palm against your shirt a little more, and the slight movement felt like a response. Your baby was right there. "Hi, little Nugget." Then you felt something like a soft thump.

You wished more than anything that Bradley was here to witness it. He was going to absolutely freak out when he got home. Then the intrusive thoughts arrived. If he got home. It had been another week and a half since that FaceTime call where he got cut off by a commanding officer. If his mission was completed, he should have called you back by now. But at least you didn't have a fleet admiral dialing your number.

You didn't move for a long time, not until the baby seemed to get into a cozy position where the movement slowed down and then stopped. When Tramp started sniffing around the candy bar, you crawled over to it and picked it up before he could get any ideas.

Time was simultaneously at a standstill and also moving too fast. In four weeks, it would be Thanksgiving and your first wedding anniversary. You'd been holding off making plans with your parents, because you didn't know what to do. You were already overdue for your anatomy scan, dodging phone calls from Dr. Morris's office when they told you that you absolutely needed to come in for your checkup. They were starting to leave you lengthy messages about how they needed to complete the full scan to be sure there were no underlying issues.

As you walked to your bedroom, you promised yourself you'd call tomorrow and schedule an appointment. Bradley would miss finding out if the Nugget was a boy or girl, but at least you'd get to see all ten fingers and all ten toes for the first time. You could reveal the news to Bradley when you got to talk to him. You would go to your appointment, because he trusted you to take care of yourself and the baby the best that you could.

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The cafeteria was packed when you walked in with your uniform shirt untucked and your pants unbuttoned. You finally caved and ordered a maternity uniform last week, and Bickel let you cry in his office about how ugly it was before he sent you back to the lab. It should be arriving any day, but for now, you were making do.

When Nat saw you, she was on her feet heading your way immediately. "Your belly looks bigger!" she gasped, pulling you toward the table where she was sitting with Bob and Maria. "When's Rooster coming home?"

You shrugged miserably. "You think I know? I just work here."

Her laughter made you smile for the first time all day. Your nausea was back a little bit, and you were too afraid to even try to eat anything until you got home later tonight. When Nat scooted her tray closer to the edge of the table to make room for you, she asked, "Where's your lunch?"

You didn't want to lie, but you really didn't want them to pressure you to eat right now. "I think I'll just take something back upstairs with me." As you slid onto the empty spot on the bench, you asked, "Do you know if anyone has heard from Payback?"

You were met with shaking heads which didn't help your mood at all. What the hell was going on with this mission? Your tongue felt too thick, and your saliva practically made you gag as Bob said, "I thought they would have been home by now. Five weeks is a long time for a special mission."

Maria elbowed him in the side, but it's not like he was saying anything you weren't already thinking. This sickening feeling had been inside you for days where you were convinced something went wrong. You just couldn't fathom why you hadn't received a call yet.

"I know," you muttered. "It's okay." But you weren't actually sure if it was or not. It has been months since you had a panic attack where you had to spend a few hours with Dr. Genevieve, but you could feel it building up now. Worrying about Bradley and yourself and the baby all at the same time was mentally and emotionally exhausting.

You pretended to pick up a sandwich before heading toward the elevators in the lobby, and you stopped to throw up in the bathroom before you made it back to your office. Your anatomy scan was scheduled for Friday, almost three weeks after they originally wanted you to come in. If you were still feeling this anxious, you'd block off part of your schedule next week to visit Dr. Genevieve again.

Somehow, even though the only thing on your mind was talking to Bradley, you were shocked when your phone woke you up just before midnight on Wednesday evening. This time you rocketed to your feet as you yanked your phone free from the charger. It wasn't a FaceTime call. It said RESTRICTED CALLER. You braced your hand on your nightstand in the dark, and when you answered, you knew immediately that it wasn't your husband on the other end of the call.

"Hello? I'm calling on behalf of Lieutenant Commander Bradley Bradshaw," came a male voice in response, and then he was asking you to confirm your personal information.

"What happened?" you gasped once he established that you really were the one and only person on Bradley's contact list. "What happened to him?"

There was a soft hum from the man, and you wanted to jump through the phone and strangle him for his lack of response. Then, as you finally managed to turn on your lamp, he said, "It looks like his flight just took off out of Hong Kong."

"Flight?" you gasped. "He's in the air?"

"Yes. A commercial flight into San Diego. He should arrive Friday morning, and I can give you the details now so someone can arrange for a ride for him."

You were baffled as to why Bradley didn't call you himself, but if he was on his way home, you didn't care. And you weren't going to arrange for a ride for him. You were going to pick him up yourself. When you grabbed a pen from your nightstand, the only paper you could find was the love note he left for you, so you started writing the flight number on your arm instead. Then you gasped and almost dropped the phone when you ended the call. There was the slightest chance he would be back in time!

---------------------------

Bradley was exhausted. He knew he could sleep for two days, no problem. He would land in San Diego and hope you were there to get him, then he'd ask you if the baby was a boy or a girl, then he'd take you home and make love to you before falling the fuck asleep. He really wanted to start building the jungle gym playset, but that was just going to have to wait for another day.

It was Friday, or at least that's what he thought, and he wasn't sure how busy you had been at work, because he hadn't spoken to you in weeks. Maybe Bickel let you take the morning off. If Bradley didn't get to see you in baggage claim like he always had before, he was going to be so annoyed that he was delayed weeks longer than he should have been. This mission turned into a three part nightmare on the high seas, and all he wanted was his wife and his Nugget.

When his flight landed, he was up and out of his seat, ready to go. Of course he ended up lifting down carryon bags for a few older passengers and one woman who had two kids with her. Of course he knelt down to help someone find their reading glasses. But all he wanted was for this line of people to move it off the aircraft so he could get into the terminal and call you.

When you answered on the second ring, shouting his name into the phone, he couldn't help but smile. "I just landed, Sweetheart. Does that mean you're here to get me?"

"Yes! I'm in baggage claim! Hurry up!"

His whole body thrummed with need as he picked up his pace at the confirmation that you were here for him. "I'm coming as fast as I can," he promised, squeezing between two groups of people walking way too slowly. He wanted to know if you took the day off. There were a hundred questions circling his brain, but the first one that he needed an answer to was, "How's my Nugget?"

He could hear the smile in your voice as you said, "Your little Nugget is thriving, Roo. But get over here and see for yourself!"

"Baby Girl," he laughed, jogging a little faster. "I'm coming."

"Hurry," you whined, and he needed to give you what you wanted.

He bypassed the crowded escalator and took the stairs as quickly as he could, skidding around a corner as he turned toward baggage claim. "Almost there," he panted into the phone. And then he saw you and groaned, "Fuck," loud enough that a few people shot him nasty looks. "Holy shit, Sweetheart."

Bradley ended the call as you glanced around, and he stumbled when you finally spotted him. You were wearing a new dress. It was a pretty shade of green, and it was snug, hugging all of your curves. Hugging your bump. You had a bump. You looked so obviously pregnant to him, he was ready to crawl on his hands and knees and beg at your feet.... for what, he wasn't sure. But that's what his brain was barking at him to do right now.

"Roo!" you called out, prancing toward him in that tight dress and your boat shoes, and literally nothing felt better than being with you. As soon as you were in his arms, he was home. "Bradley," you moaned against his lips as his hands found your sides. You felt different in the best possible way. The swell of your belly wasn't huge yet, but it was definitely there. He could feel it. His growing baby.

God, you were kissing him just right, fingers threading through his hair as you rubbed yourself against him. "Jesus," he groaned into your mouth, but you kissed it away as he ran his hands along as much of your middle as he could reach. He couldn't help it; when you eventually broke the kiss to take a breath, he dropped to his knees in front of you.

Your fingers were still in his hair as you looked down at him in surprise. "Roo?"

He was kissing along that green fabric and rubbing his nose against that perfect, little bump. He knew you were twenty-two weeks along, and he knew what that meant. "Please, tell me," he rasped, stroking you gently with his thumb. "Please, Sweetheart. Is it a girl or a boy?"

Your softly parted lips and smile had all of his focus as he waited to hear you tell him what he'd been dying to know. "Oh," you whispered, pushing your fingers through his hair, leaving him in anticipation as your fingertips glided down his cheek. "I don't know yet."

"You don't?" he asked, brow creased in concern. But you just kept smiling as his heart pounded. "You don't know?"

"Nope," you replied easily. "My appointment is in an hour."

Bradley rocketed to his feet. "Are you serious?" he whispered, his voice a little harsh. "I didn't miss it?"

You kissed him softly as he collected you back in his arms. "You didn't miss it, Roo. I postponed it as long as I could. You're just in time."

"Hell yes!" he whooped, pumping one fist in the air as you giggled. "You waited for Daddy," he said, smiling down at your belly as he slowly walked you backwards. "That's my Nugget." You were looking up at him with trusting eyes as he pushed you back against a pillar next to the baggage carousel. "You said we have an hour?"

"Yes."

"Good," he murmured before his lips found yours, and his hands continued their excited exploration of your new curves.

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Next up is the big reveal!!! I am so excited!!!! Get your final guesses in now! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls and everyone who has been reading and interacting. Welcome to the new series!

PART 2

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639 notes · View notes

dollwrites · 6 months

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𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!reader, dub con, virginity loss, suggested sex work / trafficking, pantalone is kind of rough, fingering, all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘁𝗼𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟯 ∣ day nineteen [ pantalone + experience / power dynamic ]

“L-like this?”

you shuddered at the position you found yourself in. not simply because the air in Snezhnaya was chilled. not simply because you were stark naked in a darkened room, lain upon silk and fur bedding you that held no familiar scent, but because you were afraid of the man standing at the foot of the bed. afraid of what he might do once you laid on your stomach like he’d asked. though his voice was softer than most men in Snezhnaya, he sounded all the more wicked because of it. like a devil with a sugar-coated tongue.

“Oh, dear…” he purrs from behind you, but when you feel a warm brush of gloved digits along the small of your back, you flinch. you’re grateful that he can’t see the way you hide, burying your face in the fur beneath you. “Not quite. How am I going to fuck you if you’re flat like this?” a low and daunting chuckle bubbles up from the depths of his chest. “Here, allow me to help you.”

you hadn’t been expecting what happened next.

his hand dipped between your thighs, middle two fingers worming their way into your virgin entrance without warning. you elicit a soft whine of uncertain protest. sliding deep enough to anchor them against your spasming wall, his palm pressed flush against your core, Pantalone pulls your lower half off the bed. you cry out, and bite against the fur blanket, feeling his fingers pushing hard inside you as he positions you by the grip on your cunt alone.

“There we are. You look much prettier with your back arched, and your ass in the air, and even moreso with fingers in your pussy. My fingers” he murmurs, taking a few moments to tease your insides, his digits probe and rub your sensitive, spongy walls, as if gauging how good you feel. “You’re warm. As tight as I expected. Perhaps you are worth an investment, after all.”

“Gentle, please—“ you whine, your hands already grasping for the bedding underneath you, your voice muffled from the blanket between your teeth, and you look over your shoulder and up at him with a pleading gaze. his spectacles hang from their chain around his neck, as if he feared they would fog up from the playtime. but you see his eyes shape into crescents as he simpered wide.

“Do you think you have any say whatsoever in what I do with you, my dear?”

the question catches you off guard, your eyes widen at how direct it is, and you ponder it, dumbfounded.

“I— I—“

Pantalone takes note of the gears working in your head and he chuckles, pulling his fingers from your depths, he uses them to tease the elasticity of your entrance instead, spreading you open until you groan and squirm. a plea for him to stop never makes it past your lips, because he’s already swooning.

“Don’t hurt yourself trying to come up with an answer, dear. It’s all right if you don’t know, I know how hard it must be for you to wrack your simple, little brain. I’ll generously enlighten you. You cost me quite a bit of mora to procure. That means I own you, dear. Now, be a good, little investment.” his voice drops to a low, threatening octave as his free hand presses down hard between your shoulder blades, forcing your upper half back against the fur. it tickles your face, and smells of clean, expensive cologne. “Comply for me, dear. Reach back here and spread those pretty lips, let’s see that eager, virgin hole.”

your face was on fire as he demands this of you, and you didn’t know if you could do such a humiliating act, but your arms move before you’ve fully decided, acting without your consent to reach around. trembling fingertips press against your own folds, spreading them with a soft whimper as the cool air tickles your most vulnerable region once it’s completely open and exposed.

you can no longer see him, and he’s moved away from your body, but you can hear the rustling of heavy furs and fabrics as he sheds his garments. you shudder again, realizing that in a moment he’ll be naked, and even though you’d never done this before, you knew what would follow.

“Very good, put your sweet cunt on display for me. Show me how tight you are, I want to compare this sight to how stretched you’ll be when I’m finished, drooling cum and twitching.”

“G-gentle, please…!” you murmur again, but this time it’s much softer and more hopeless, punctuated by a flustered, little squeak when two warm hands grasp your hips. he’s no longer wearing his gloves, and his willowy digits dig into your supple hips, nails scraping at the outer most layer.

“You make such a beautiful, pathetic parrot, my dear. Always repeating yourself, begging to be treated with care.” Pantalone chuckles and pulls you close, allowing the swollen tip of his dick to prod against your opening. you gasp, wanting to recoil. your fingertips twitch and yearn to push the intruder away, but you manage to stay still, though rather shaky. “But I don’t want you to be a parrot, my pet. Oh no, I want to make you a songbird.”

as he croons his intentions, he forces his cock against your delicate opening, tunneling into untapped innocence with a full thrust, and you cry out with tears in your eyes. your nails bite at your own skin as you try to grasp for something to relieve some of the sting of being stretched for the first time, but Pantalone only chuckles and leans over, dragging his broad chest against your shoulder, his lips against your cheek as he murmurs. “There you go, my naive little bird. I will make you sing louder and louder. Until your throat burns for me, and your body craves my cock above all else.”

#pantalone #pantalone x reader #pantalone x you #pantalone smut #pantalone imagine #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin smut #genshin x you #genshin x reader #genshin #genshin impact

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neverinadream · 2 months

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Let Them Hear You, Princess

Summary: Seeing your ex-boyfriend leaves you itching to do something that could potentially get you and Nico kicked out of the bar.

Pairing: Nico Hischer x Fem!Reader

Requested: Nope

Song Inspo: When You Need A Man - The Driver Era

Warnings: 18+, minors dni, smut, nsfw, fwb!nico, mentions of an ex-boyfriend, dom!nico x sub!reader, hints of a brat!reader but not really, bathroom sex, pet names (baby, princess, good girl...), praise, some hair pulling, handjob, oral (male & female receiving), fingering, nico gets a little possessive, not edited

Notes: uh...hi! once again, i am writing for someone new. to my existing followers who don't follow the nhl you don't have to read this, it's okay to skip this one. some parts of this is a little off with the phrasing, at least to me they are, so just try to ignore it, and yes, the ending might feel a little rushed or unfinished but i was losing focus so...yeah, enjoy whores 🫶🏻 feedback is always appreciated

"And I'm finally back," Nico slides the drink across the table, the red and white striped straw taking centre stage in the glass, "only took me nineteen hours." He rakes his fingers through his hair as he slides into the booth, tucking a few strands behind his ear. "Next time," he hooks his arm around your shoulders, "you can go up to the bar."

You scoop up your glass, your lipstick-stained lips wrapping innocently around the straw, but the act momentarily draws in his gaze, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip.

"And what makes you think I'll get served any quicker than you?" You take a quick sip, the taste of vodka mixed into the fruity concoction burning the back of your throat. "The place is packed."

You look out to the rest of the bar, your usual spot for a night out overcrowded with others who were looking to knock back a few drinks. No one could move without accidentally tripping over someone's foot, or bumping elbows with another. At a pool table, you spot his teammate gaining the attention of a small brunette.

"Timo has a better chance of getting her number than I do getting served at that bar."

The corners of his mouth pull up into a grin. "I don't know," he sets his drink down, condensation already forming on the outside of the bottle, "I think you'd get served pretty quickly."

You pull the straw to the corner of your mouth, matching his grin. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," he shuffles closer, the rough texture of his denim jeans brushing against your bare leg. He dips his eyes, watching you adjust your skirt, a small comment about wishing you had worn something else filling his ears. "There's nothing wrong with what you're wearing," he reassures you, liking the way the dress hugged your body, "it would definitely catch the eye of a bartender." He tilts his head, letting his gaze wash over your body, absently licking his lips. "Perhaps even get you served quicker at a crowded bar," he trails off.

You rolled your eyes and take another sip, hoping the coldness of your drink might cool the heat that rocketed up your neck as you swallowed it down. "You're not even-" You fall silent, your skin growing cold when your eyes land on someone you had hoped not to see tonight.

Nico chuckles, going for his beer. "Not what, cutie?"

"Connor's here," you whisper, caging your drink closer to your chest.

He sighs. "I know." Your eyes snap to him. "I saw him when I was at the bar, okay," he explains, pulling his arm from around you, dropping his hand to give your knee a soft squeeze, "he tried to talk to me, so I told him to fuck off."

"Nico-"

"The guy's a dick, Y/N," he cuts you off, bringing his hand higher up your leg. Your gaze is dragged down to the hand that burned your thigh, the roughness of his calloused hands leaving behind a dull ache. "And it's not like we were ever buddies when you were together." Your eyes snap back up when he takes his hand away. "Come on," he suggests, nodding over to a few of his teammates, "let's go have some fun."

Your eyes drop to your lap. "I don't know," you mumble, shrugging. Seeing Conor had left you with a sour taste and a desire to hide. "I think I wanna go home."

Nico slides the bottle over the edge, swallowing the sigh that wants to escape. "Look at me," he cups your face, tilting your head back, smiling when your eyes finally reach him, whispering, "Hi." You try to match his smile but it's weak. "Don't let him ruin your night, okay?"

"That's easy for you to say," you chew your bottom lip.

"Maybe," he brings his thumb against your bottom lip, gently prying it from between your teeth, "but you're my friend and I like you better when you're smiling."

You perk your eyebrows. "I thought you liked me better when I'm on my knees?"

"That too," he agrees, a chuckle ripping through his chest.

Sitting back, he reaches for his beer, catching the attention of your ex as he tips his head back and takes a long sip. Connor's eyes flickered back and forth between you and Nico, a scowl pinching at the corners of his mouth when Nico wrapped his arm over your shoulders. He quirks his eyebrow, his own lips curling into a smirk, like he was silently saying you lost.

"You know what," Nico swings his head in your direction, "let's get out of here."

"You sure?"

Nico nods. "Timo looks like he'll be leaving soon," he takes another sip, "and I'm sure the others won't mind us leaving early."

He slides out the booth, grabbing his jacket off the seat, but you stay seated. He glances back over his shoulder, turning quickly on his heels when you hadn't followed him. "I thought you wanted to stay and have some fun?" You ask, crossing your arms over your chest, the action subtly spilling the tops of your boobs over your dress.

He lifts his foot up onto the booth step, his hand reaching out to rest on the seat. "And I thought you wanted to leave?" He fires back, matching your tone. He looks into your eyes like he was trying to bore his way into your brain. To find the thing that had made you change your mind. "You know, since Connor is here?"

"And then I'll get home and just feel stupid for letting him get to me," you tell him, reaching for your glass, draining the rest of your drink at an impressive speed. Setting the glass down, your eyes flick to the bar where Connor crowded the end with his usual group of slimy friends. One look at him had you remembering the cold way he had broken things off with you. It made you angry. Angry enough to do something worthy of getting you and Nico potentially kicked out of the bar. "I want to piss him off."

Nico doesn't stop the smile that stretches across his face. "That's my girl," he cheers, putting his jacket back on the seats, like he was staking a claim on the booth. He wasn't going to miss a chance to help you. "What you got in mind?"

You shuffle out of the booth, Nico moving back to leave you enough space to step out. "Come here." You beckon him closer with your finger, excitement thrilling your body as he steps towards you, his large hands moulding to the shape of your hips. He lowers his mouth but you place your finger against his lips, barring him from the pleasure of kissing you. "I want you to fuck me, Nico," you whisper, sliding your hand down his broad chest, stopping just above the waistband of his jeans, "I want him to hear me scream your name as you make me come."

A lump the size of New Jersey lodges itself inside his throat, but he swallows it down, grinning as you hook your finger under his chin and pull him in for a kiss. He groans, tasting the fruitiness of the cocktail you had been drinking, fisting his fingers into your hair and pulling your head back to deepen the kiss. He sucks on your tongue, his cock growing hard from your taste, and he nips at your bottom lip as he pulls away.

"Does he look pissed?" He asks into your ear, lining your jaw with quick kisses.

"Like he could throw a chair," you reply, biting your bottom lip and whimpering as Nico sucks on your neck.

"Good," he pulls back to look at you, "now let's go really piss him off."

Nico pulls you quickly into the bathroom, his hand blindly searching behind him until he hears something click.

"The door-"

"Already locked," Nico cuts you off, wrapping his arms firmly around your waist, and burying his face into your neck. The smell of your perfume was intoxicating, leaving his cock at half-mast and twitching in his jeans. "I don't want anyone disturbing us," he adds, kissing and nipping at your skin, making his way up the column of your throat. You feel his smug grin pressing into the side of your neck. "I bet he's just counting down the minutes until we come back."

His calloused thumb presses against your mouth and he watches it open with little resistance, doing nothing to stop the memories of you taking his cock, your lips stretched around his girth, from flashing behind his eyes.

You flick your tongue over the pad of his thumb, grinning when he responds with a low groan. "Whatcha thinking about?" You giggle, looking up to meet his eyes.

"You," he simply answers, "on your knees."

You wiggle out of his arms, sinking to your knees before him. "Like this?" You encourage his fantasy, unbuttoning his jeans and pulling the zipper down. He nods, tucking his hair back and rutting his hips as you pull his jeans down just low enough to untuck him. "So fucking pretty," you whimper, wrapping your hand around the base and flicking your tongue over the crown of his cock.

He snorts. "Did you just call it pretty?"

"You call my pussy pretty, don't you?" You ask, spitting onto his head and pumping it up and down in languid strokes.

"Because it is, princess."

"Exactly!"

"Oh, fuck-!" You lower your mouth onto him, Nico tipping his head back as your warmth surrounds his tip. His precum sits on your tongue, a moan rattling along his shaft, and pulsating his balls. "Yeah, that's it." He feels your tongue run along the underside, licking along the sensitive strip, and swirl around his tip. "Don't be a tease-," he props his hand on the back of your head and nudges his hips forward, encouraging you to take more, "-and pretend like you can't take any more."

"Perhaps I need a little assistance," you goad, pulling off him with a pop and breaking a string of spit with your tongue. His cock slides in and out of your closed fist lubricated, albeit messily, with your spit. "Fuck my throat, baby," you whisper, before lazily kissing his tip.

"Up," he gives the one-worded demand, ignoring your protest as he hoists you to your feet.

You watch with disappointment hanging in your eyes as he tucks himself away, your feet stumbling back until you feel the counter pressed against you. "No fair," you mumble, grabbing a handful of his shirt, tugging him forwards, "I was having fun."

"You were being a brat," he disagrees, curling his hand around your neck and licking at the seem of your mouth, before crashing his lips against it. You willingly part your lips and let his tongue in, swallowing up his groans as you rub him through his jeans. "Stop it," he grumbles against you, grabbing your wrist and pinning it at your side.

You trail your mouth lazily down his neck, dragging your teeth over his Adam's apple. "Let me have my fun," you beg, sucking hard on the bottom of his neck.

"Oh, you'll have your fun, princess."

He lifts you onto the counter, the top cold against you, making you shiver. He bunches the end of your dress around your waist and pulls your panties to the side, chuckling like he knew you'd be soaked from sucking his cock. Another shiver licks up your spine as he runs his fingers gingerly against you, rubbing your clit in slow circles.

Taking two fingers, he pops them into his mouth and groans, tasting you as he sucks them clean.

"You'll have your fun coming for me," he insists, hooking his fingers under your panties, tearing them down as he sinks to his knees. He tucks them into his pocket and looks up at you with a grin. "And I want you to be loud," he lifts one leg over his shoulder, grazing his mouth along the inner of your thigh, "I want to make sure that pathetic excuse for an ex hears you."

A noise somewhere between a moan and a strangled gargling sound rockets up your throat as Nico latches his mouth around your pussy. Your fingers, itching to grab onto anything, fist their way into his hair, the soft strands slipping through them like strands of fine silk, and tug at them every time he does something you like. You moan his name loud and proudly, the excitement and the rush of your ex hearing you floods you with more arousal.

He switches between long, languid flicks of his tongue, the kind that teases out your desperate whimpers for more, licking you from bottom to top and sucking on your clit until you nearly squirm off the counter. "God-!" You tip your head back and tug on his hair. "I don't think I'll ever get used to this."

He grunts in agreement, licking his lips as pulls away, liking the way the taste of you coats every inch of his mouth. His hand slides up your thigh and teases your clit with his thumb. "He never treated you like this, did he?" He spreads you apart with his fingers, drool pooling in his mouth from how pretty you looked. "Couldn't fuck you the way a princess deserves to be fucked." He dips his head and flicks his tongue back and forth over your clit. "That's okay," he mumbles against you, "you've got me now."

You whimper, feeling the tip of his finger nudge against you. "Please," you nod, moaning and biting your lip, feeling your pussy clench around nothing when you look down to see him already staring up at you. He retracts his finger, earning himself a unhappy scowl. "Nico-"

"Louder," he cuts in, silencing your protest, "make sure he hears you." He rises to his feet, wiping his mouth and chin with his hand, before pressing it against the mirror, forcing you to lean back as he towers over you. "Let 'em all hear you," he corrects himself, possessiveness lacing his tone, "make sure every fucker who has looked at you tonight hears you beg for it." It was Nico's idea for you both to have a casual arrangement - someone to have a bit of fun with without the commitment that came with a relationship - but he sure hated the way this dress made people stare at you. You were his, not theirs. He was the one making you come most nights, not them. "Let 'em all know who you belong to."

"Nico-"

"Louder!"

You guide his hand between your thighs, bringing his fingers against your cunt, teasing your hole that was desperate for any attention. "Please," you whimper, bucking your hips, trying to push onto his fingers. He grunts but doesn't oblige. "Nico!" You whine, dragging his name out. It only earns you another chuckle. "Stop teasing me!"

He crashes his mouth down against yours, swallowing your moans as he finally pushes his finger inside. "Nice and warm for me," he mumbles, his tongue splitting your mouth open, tangling with your own. Little whimpers fill the bathroom as you taste yourself, the corners of his lips twitching upwards into half-smile. "Taste good, don't you, baby?"

You nod, raking your fingers through his hair and dragging his mouth back down for a second taste.

He withdraws his finger and adds a second, feeling you stretch to fit the girth of both. "So fucking tight," he breathes against you, pinching your bottom lip between his teeth.

"I guess you're just gonna have to stretch me out," you reply, sneaking your hand down the front of his jeans.

"Who knew a pretty mouth could say such filthy things?"

"It's all your doing," you giggle, kissing the underside of his stubbled jaw, "I was all sweet and innocent until you came along." He moans as you grab and untuck his cock, dipping to kiss down your neck to hide the pink flush of his cheeks. It sits thick and heavy inside your palm, the tip red and sensitive, dripping more pre-cum. You squeeze the head, feeling his hips rut up to find more friction, and run your thumb gingerly through the pearly beads. "You corrupted me."

"Corrupted?" He brings his thumb down against your clit, brushing it in circles, working it in tandem with his fingers. "No, baby," he tuts, resting his mouth against the shell of your ear. His breath on your skin makes you shiver, your cunt clenching hard around his fingers. "I cured your blindness, allowed you to see just how good sex could truly be."

You snort. "I never said the sex with him was bad." It was.

"You didn't need to," Nico says, withdrawing his fingers and sucking them clean. Just as you were about to whine, he dips, sinking onto one knee, and latches his mouth around your clit, sucking the nub between his lips. "God, I'll never get over how good you taste," he moans around you. Hooking his hands under your bum, he presses you firmly against his mouth, drilling his tongue deep inside. "That's it," he mumbles as you loudly for him, "atta girl! Let 'em hear you."

Reaching for him, you hold onto the back of his head, your fingers curling through his hair, keeping you upright as you rock your hips. "Jesus, Nico!" You moan his name, falling into the same rhythm as his tongue laps against your cunt. His nose bumps against your clit and your body jerks. "Fuck-!" You breathe out, the knot in your stomach tightening - you were so close to coming. "Don't stop!"

"Gonna come for me?" He peeks up at you, grinning into you as you dig your nails into his head, holding him still as you buck your hips wildly against him. "Yeah?" He chuckles, the vibrations rushing through you. "You are? Come on, princess, use your words."

"Yes, Nico!" Your face flushes with a searing heat as you cry out. "Fuck-! I'm coming!"

A light laugh emits from the back of his throat, drowned out by your loud cries. "That's it, buck into my face," he drags his tongue over your cunt, "give it to me - all of it; make a fucking mess." He pushes his tongue deeper inside, feeling a rush of warmth gush over him, and circles his arm around your thigh to brush his thumb over your clit. "That's it," he encourages, rubbing your clit in fast circles, trying to hold you in place as you thrash about, "good girl, so fucking good for me!"

Your body withers and shakes, hips trying to jerk away from his mouth as he brings you down from your high.

"I definitely think he heard you," Nico says, withdrawing himself from between your thighs, his mouth wet and his hair a complete mess. He rakes his hand over his hair, quickly fixing it. "I hope he did," he murmurs, hooking his fingers under your chin and drawing you close. The kiss is short and he pulls away licking his lips. "Come on, let's get out of here," he mumbles, fixing his jeans and helping you back onto your feet, "I'm not finished with you yet."

NHL Taglist: @thoseboysinblue @chilwellspulisic @lovelynikol16 @love4lando

#nico hischier #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier smut #nico hischier one shot #nico hischier x reader #nhl imagine #nhl smut #nhl x reader

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sweetercalypso · 4 months

Text

What Takes the Edge Off || Joel Miller

Word Count: 2.0k

Summary: Now that Joel is living in Jackson, he’s picked up a few bad habits. When he comes home smelling like cigarettes, you punish him for his choice of vices

Notes: smoking, lap sitting, hair pulling, semi-public sex, grinding over clothes, edging, dom reader, sub(ish) Joel, no reader pronouns; smoking is gross unless you’re hot <3

joel miller masterlist main masterlist

Joel’s problem started with a crushed pack of Camels he’d found just a few short months after settling down in Jackson.

Truthfully, his problem had started when he was nineteen and naïve about the habit he was forming with the hand-rolled cigarettes stashed in his glovebox. They’d belonged to Tommy before Joel had quickly confiscated them with a lengthy lecture about the dangers of smoking.

Tommy was still a kid, but Joel was old enough to choose his own vices.

Everyone in Texas smoked; pipes, cigars, cigarettes – it was all commonplace in the rural heat of the South. Even after the world fell apart, there were plenty of people in QZs willing to trade a week’s worth of ration cards for a single carton of cigarettes, a stale taste of the life they’d left behind.

Joel had been more than happy to meet their demand, only occasionally skimming a few from his and Tess’s supplies. He didn’t crave the relief of nicotine any more than he craved a bottle of old whiskey or a quick, drunken fuck – it was just a way to cope with the life he’d been given.

Living in Jackson is different. The air is cleaner, the streets aren’t littered with soggy cigarette butts, and the weight of Joel’s bad habits has finally caught up to him.

The first pack he found, he’d shared with Tommy. The pair stood outside a crumbling house on their patrol route and chain-smoked what was left in the half-crushed box, reminiscing about the time Tommy stole an imported cigar from their father’s nightstand and had gotten sick from the first puff. Twenty years since they’d seen home, their Southern upbringing still kept them from smoking indoors.

The smell of tobacco had worn off by the time they returned to the city gates, and you were none the wiser about their indulgence. Even when you threw your arms around Joel and buried your face in his chest, you’d greeted him like nothing was out of the ordinary.

A couple days after he’d finished the first pack, Joel realized how much he enjoyed smoking. He found himself missing the bitter taste in his mouth, fingers twitching at his sides like he’s flicking loose ashes from a phantom burning tip.

There’d been a gun in his hand for as long as he could remember, and now that his days are spent in protected leisure, Joel feels like a crucial piece of himself is missing.

He’s constantly searching for the sleek steel of a pistol, the pressure of a trigger responding to his unabating command. The weight of a cigarette balanced between his fingers had eased the grief of being still.

A sealed pack of Marlboro’s was Joel’s next find, left behind on a coffee table in a house just beyond his normal patrol route. His habit had never been routine enough to pick a favorite brand, but the familiar red and white emblem is a welcomed sight, a promise of earthy tobacco and a good, slow burn.

The matchbook in his pocket is a heavy burden on Joel’s conscience as he picks up the cigarettes and quietly slips them into his supply bag. This time, he isn’t sharing with Tommy or anyone else who feels they have a claim over a portion of his findings.

Jackson might be a commune, but just this once, Joel’s nicotine-fueled prerogative trumps his commitment to sacrifice.

He waits until he’s past the city gates to unwrap the crisp plastic and slide the first cigarette out of the pack. It’s nearly midnight when he returns his horse to the stable and begins the short walk home, unlit cigarette dangling between his teeth as he attempts to light a match under the warm embrace of the streetlamps.

The initial thrum of nicotine flooding his lungs is bittersweet, a slight burn that dulls his senses with each deep breath. He walks with his cigarette pulled up to his mouth, the weak orange glow of lit tobacco burning a crude effigy into the shadows of his face.

You’re sitting on the porch when he rounds the corner, lazed in a rocking chair that Joel had built the previous summer – his attempt at adjusting to the slow life.

When he realizes that you’re still awake, he flicks the half-finished cigarette onto the ground and crushes it with the toe of his boot, waving a hand to clear the lazy smoke lingering in the air. He grumbles under his breath and pulls the front of his jacket to his nose to gauge how long it would take the smell of tobacco to fade, but he realizes too late that the sickly-sweet aroma is already woven into the material – still clinging to his breath.

He makes his way up the sidewalk with a guilty look on his face and a hand tucked in his pocket, thumb rubbing soothingly over the side of the cigarette pack as if the feel of the box was enough to bring him relief.

It wasn’t that he expected to be chastised for his nasty habit – you knew better than anyone that Joel preferred to take care of himself. But he distinctly remembers a conversation you’d shared some time ago about old-world vices and your distaste for smoking.

He didn’t think it was worth mentioning his habit at the time; smoking was a luxury he doubted he’d ever have again, so why ruin his image of calloused self-restraint?

The sound of the porch steps creaking under Joel’s boots grabs your attention from whatever book you’d been reading, now abandoned face-down on the arm of the rocking chair as you turn to greet him.

“You’re home,” you drawl, the tired lilt in your voice betraying your content expression.

His chin dips in a bashful acknowledgement, tucked to his chest as he leans down to press a kiss to the side of your face. He still isn’t used to having someone waiting up for him; the thought only adds to the weight of his self-reproach.

“How was patrol?” you ask as Joel pulls away, though your eyes rake over him with another question in mind.

Before he can answer, you reach out and grab the front of his jacket, bringing the material to your nose to confirm what Joel already knew. “You smell like smoke.”

He swallows the sandpaper feeling in his mouth and shrugs. “Got a little cold out tonight, we stopped to make a fire on our way back.”

He cringes internally at his halfhearted attempt at avoiding the matter, but it doesn’t seem to deter you from putting the pieces together anyway.

“No,” you interject, brows pulled together in confusion. “You smell like cigarettes.”

He’s silent for a moment, unable to think of an honest way out of this conversation. “Huh.”

“Joel,” you drawl, standing and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. A teasing grin pulls at the corners of your mouth, a scandalized amusement that makes his cheeks burn. “Have you been smoking?”

Your fingers weave through the dark curls at the nape of his neck, tugging softly until his head rolls back.

His eyes flutter shut and he shudders as he pulls the offending pack from his pocket. “Found ‘em on patrol,” he pants, his free hand gently squeezing your hip. “People leave all sorts of useful things behind when the world’s endin’.”

You offer only a simpering tsk in response, not quite the reaction Joel was expecting.

The night air is silent beyond the quiet lull of Jackson and the floorboards shifting under your feet as you shuffle closer together, sharing an intimate moment in the dim light seeping through the front room windows. Joel’s hands are a firm presence on your waist, separated from your skin by only the thin flannel shirt you’d stolen from his closet.

Eventually, you pull away, ushering him into the seat you’d abandoned upon his arrival. He drops into the rocking chair with a grunt and drags you into his lap.

“Missed you, baby” he murmurs, admiring the way you fit perfectly into the hollow of his frame, the way you balance yourself overtop him with practiced ease.

He knows he should be more concerned about your indifferent reaction, more worried about the possibility of someone walking by. But his sensibility is swept away by the heave of your chest and the little sound you make when his hand presses against the base of your spine.

Your hips drag slowly over his and for a moment, Joel thinks you’ve forgotten about the cigarettes. Or maybe you won’t mind his indulgence as long as he makes up for it. The warmth of your body pressed against his makes Joel ache for more, ready to offer an apology with more than just his words.

Just as he leans in to press his mouth to yours, you pull away far enough that he misses.

“Ah-” you stop him with a raised hand, fingertips pressed to his pouted lips. “You can kiss me when you don’t smell like cigarettes.”

The warm, hazy feeling is suddenly ripped from the air. Joel’s head jerks back in a look of disbelief, mouth hung open and brows pulled together as if he’d been scorned. “You’re serious?”

“Mhmm,” you nod, running a hand over his chest to soothe his trampled ego. “Can’t stand the smell, baby. You know that.”

The rocking chair dips forward as Joel drops his head onto your shoulder with a groan. “That’s just cruel.”

“It’s not cruel,” you laugh, pushing back the mess of curls falling into his face. “When you come home from patrol, I wanna taste you, not smoke.”

Your hips stir over his once again and Joel swears under his breath. His cock twitches in interest and he begrudgingly accepts the torment of your slow pace. This isn’t the time to take charge and chase his high; he’ll let you take the reins until you decide that he’s forgiven.

He picks his head up to glance around the empty streets, assuring himself that there’s no one here to witness his weak-willed acquiescence.

“I wanna touch you, make you feel good,” you continue, ghosting your fingers over the front of his jeans. “But how can I do that when all I can think about is those nasty cigarettes? Hmm?”

Your hands travel back to his chest, but your hips continue to roll over his, trapping his stiff cock beneath the comfortable pressure of your thighs. His eyes flutter shut once more as he leans back into his seat and lets you have your fun.

It doesn’t take long for Joel to near his end, subtly bucking his own hips to help himself along. He’s right there, right at the edge of his release, knuckles turning white as his grip tightens on the arm rests and—

The weight in his lap is gone, replaced with an empty chill that makes Joel’s hips stutter. His eyes snap open as he struggles to focus in his blissed-out state, but a hand on his shoulder brings him back to reality.

You’re standing in front of him now, no longer providing the friction that’d been fueling the fire in his belly. “Sorry, baby. You don’t get off that easy.”

He groans when you crawl back into his lap and you’re flooded with a sense of empowerment. It shouldn’t feel this good to see Joel suffer. You know it’s not fair to tease him like this, but maybe he deserves a little punishment.

“Maybe if you hadn’t been smoking, I’d let you enjoy this. Let you use your mouth to make me come, let you fuck me the way you want to.”

Joel stays silent, obedient. He swallows around shallow gasps of air that make his chest rise and fall with the labor of his breaths, thighs tensing as he struggles not to chase that feeling dangling just out of reach.

“I could do this all night,” you note, settling your weight in his lap again, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth. “And I think you’d let me.”

#joel miller #the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller fic #joel miller one shot #the last of us smut #the last of us x reader #the last of us fic #tlou #tlou x reader #tlou x y/n #sub!joel #sub!joel miller

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wileys-russo · 3 months

Note

Alessia Russo, “You are not wearing that.”, older sister Russo that’s overly protective

(Maybe reader plays for Arsenal and the team is going to a bar?)

sisterly duties II a.russo

"you're coming right?" kyra asked, bumping her shoulder into you as the team all discussed their upcoming night out, having just won 6-0 and all riding out the high of victory.

"no she's not!" your older sister chimed in before you could even answer. "what! yes i am." you scoffed sending her a filthy look across the room as alessia rolled her eyes.

"oo you're so scary." the taller girl mocked with a pout as you continued to glare in her direction. "she's got assignments to do and she's too young to go to a bar." alessia again answered for you, packing up her belongings ready to head off.

"i am not! i'm nineteen you pillock and i have all day tomorrow to finish my assignment." you rolled your eyes now on the receiving end of her own filthy look. "you're not going." your sister warned again, kyra whistling and sliding a little further away from you not wanting to be involved.

"yes, i am." you locked eyes with her, both of you refusing to look away as the air around you became incredibly frosty. "oh lighten up less! let the kid come and let her hair down she played a brilliant game." leah came to your rescue as you hugged her leg.

"see! co-captain says i can go. you're outranked alyssa." you smirked as her jaw clenched at the purposeful misuse of her name, a simple thing which you knew wound her up to no end having had nineteen years to learn all the ways to get under your sisters skin.

"you always let her get away with everything! you're such a pushover." alessia muttered, sending you another murderous glare as leah grinned. "she's my little protege less, i've gotta look after her so she can follow in my footsteps." leah pinched your cheek with a wink as your smile widened.

"your protege? she's my little sister williamson not yours!" alessia huffed, zipping up her backpack with a roll of her eyes. "yeah but i have actual hopes to be a successful footballer like leah, not some washed up at twenty four striker like you." you smirked as leah coughed to cover up her laugh and walked off.

"no leah come back!" your eyes widened as suddenly you were left defenseless as alessia stood, and you the shortest of all your siblings she easily towered over you with a mean look.

"i love you?" you smiled charmingly, flinching as she raised her arm but it was only to grab your bag from beside you. "hurry up." was all she said, nodding for emily to follow after her who she was giving a lift home as you breathed a sigh of relief.

but just maybe, you should have known better than to assume she'd let your little insult go unpunished.

you were sat in the back of your sisters mercedes with your headphones over your ears, eyes closed and head swaying a little side to side, rather listening to your own music than your sisters polar opposite tastes she had blasting from her speakers.

you hissed as suddenly there was a pinch to your knee, opening your eyes and glaring back at the baby blues which were alight with amusement, slipping your headphones down around your neck with a raised eyebrow.

"what alessia?" you sighed tiredly, the intensity of the game and performance today catching up to you.

"out you get." alessia nodded to the door as you sent her a confused frown, not missing the apologetic wince sent your way through the rearview mirror by emily who sat in the passenger seat.

"what? we're not home yet we haven't even dropped foxy off." your frown deepened, glancing out the window and not recognising the street in which she'd pulled over. "very good. now get out!" your sister mocked sarcastically, motioning for you to leave.

"but i don't know where we are!" you protested as alessia shrugged. "i don't care, you can walk the rest of the way home. out!" the older girl warned, eyes narrowing as if daring you to challenge her as you huffed and unbuckled yourself.

"you are seriously going to make me walk home?" you questioned in disbelief, hand hovering on the door as your sister nodded. "yeah i am. you want to act like a child i'll treat you like one. now out! before i come and make you." the blonde warned seriously as you looked to her teammate for help.

"oh don't look at her! she's not driving." alessia laughed as you scoffed and got out, knowing the taller girl was serious in her threat of dragging you from the car and you'd like to keep a shred of your dignity.

"less this says its a forty five minute walk!" you protested checking your maps app, stood on the sidewalk with wide eyes. "then thats forty five minutes to think about how actions have consequences isn't it? consider this a timeout then, baby russo." your sister smirked starting up the car again.

"all of this for one little teasing comment! you're fucking unhinged alessia!" you scowled as the older girl reached back and grabbed your bag, leaning over emily and dangling it out of the open window as you hurried to grab it before she let go.

"maybe, but you're a nightmare sometimes so it evens out." alessia smiled sweetly. "wait less i don't have keys!" you remembered, your keys still on the hook inside your shared apartment with her since you knew your sister would have her own set.

"oh no. sure hope you don't beat me home then!" the blonde pouted in mock sympathy before grinning and pulling away from the sidewalk and speeding off as you threw your head back with a loud groan.

grumbling obscenities under your breath you shrugged your bag on and stormed off, feet slapping the pavement as you were fueled by anger, shaking your head and tapping away aggressively at your phone before holding it up to your ear.

"mum? you will never guess what alessia's done to me this time!"

your anger was still there simmering at the surface as you finally rounded a corner and your complex was in sight, exhaling in relief as your legs ached and you dragged yourself the last hundred or so metres.

but realizing you didn't have your keys which also contained your security tag you let out a pained whine, punching in your apartment number and waiting as the dial tone rang, hugging yourself tightly as the wind picked up.

"yes? did you enjoy your walk?" you could hear the smirk in her voice and immediately wished it was in your sights so you could slap it off of her. "let me in." you grumbled with a huff, shivering a little and glancing upwards as there was a rumble of thunder in the distance.

"did you learn your lesson?" your sister continued as you took a deep breath, knowing that as much as you despised so she really did have all of the power in this situation. "let me in." you repeated with a roll of your eyes.

"apologize first and i'll consider it." she sung out happily and you knew she wasn't alone as several voices called out for her to just buzz you up which she ignored. "less!" you groaned tiredly which she mocked groaning your own name back at you.

"repeat after me; i am so very very sorry for my disrespect because i'm just an insufferable, over dramatic, annoying, immature little shit." alessia ordered as again you took a deep breath.

"i am so very very sorry for your disrespect because you're just an insufferable, over dramatic, annoying, immature little shit." you parroted back with a satisfied grin, the silence that met your response showing she hadn't expected it as finally someone shoved her out of the way and buzzed you in.

with a sigh of relief you hurried inside the building but realizing again you didn't have your security tag you weren't able to access the elevator as you paused to exhale deeply, thinking of all the ways you could murder your sister and get away with it as you had no choice but to take the stairs up to the fourth floor.

if you weren't tired before your legs were basically jelly by the time you kicked open the door to your floor and staggered toward the apartment.

you knocked twice and it swung open revealing lotte who winced sympathetically and opened her arms to hug you but in no mood for it you pushed right past her.

"you told mum on me? seriously? you're such a baby!" you heard alessia laugh from somewhere in the room and you clocked there was two other bodies beside her own sat on the lounge as you ignored everything and made a beeline for your room, making a point to slam your door harshly behind you.

"don't you slam your door!" alessia yelled from the lounge, standing to follow after you with a scowl as lotte pulled her back down with a shake of her head.

"let her cool off less, then you can go and apologise." she patted the strikers shoulder who scoffed. "me? why am i having to say sorry!" she sank back into the lounge with crossed arms.

"um maybe the fact you made her walk like 5 miles home after she played a full ninety minute game?" emily chuckled as both of her friends stared down at her and alessia groaned.

"fine! maybe it was a little harsh." "a little?"

"whats this really about less? i've seen the two of you say much worse things to one another than her joking about you being washed up." lotte questioned with a raised eyebrow.

"why does she idolise leah so much? she's always following her around and they hang out all the time and she's always going on and on about how great leah is and how much she wants to be like leah!" alessia muttered with a roll of her eyes as emily and lotte shared a knowing look.

"she used to follow me around and want to hang out with me and want to play football like me! she's been training as a striker nearly her whole life until she met leah and suddenly defense is all she cares about." alessia mumbled with a huff.

"have you spoke to her about any of this?" lotte questioned with a small smile. "no! she'd just make some smart ass comment about me being needy or something. and i don't need her to want to be like me!" alessia scoffed, meeting her friends eyes.

"okay fine i miss when she idolised me instead and was my little shadow and my protege, not leahs!" alessia admitted with a deep sigh, dragging her hands down her face.

"have you considered maybe she doesn't want to just be your shadow? she'll always look up to you as her big sister less but with football she probably wants to write her own story and have her own career, not have everything she does feel compared to what you've already done." emily spoke softly as alessia frowned, not having considered that before.

"i hate when the two of you are right!" alessia huffed, hauling herself up as the two brunettes grinned and high fived watching her head toward your room.

you heard her knock but ignored it, burying your head under the covers as your door opened and clicked shut again. "go away!" you huffed as your bed squeaked and dipped.

"i'm really sorry for making you walk home, i took it too far." you ripped the covers off and gave her a look of disbelief at the seemingly sincere apology. "what? i am, really." alessia frowned at the look of suspicion on your face.

"can i get that one more time on tape?" you questioned as your sisters eyes rolled and she gently hit you over the covers as you sat up. "sorry for saying you're washed up, you know i don't think that." you apologised back as she smiled gratefully.

"what do you think?" alessia asked, raising an eyebrow as your eyes rolled. "don't bait me for compliments you get enough of those." you teased as she now rolled her eyes.

"i love you." alessia patted your leg still stuck beneath your duvet as you hummed, purposefully not saying it back. "say it back!" your sister ordered, eyebrows furrowing as you grinned.

"i also love me, i love that we have that in common." you smiled as her eyes narrowed and she launched at you. "get off me! you weigh like a tonne." you groaned as she sat her much taller form on top of you causing you to grunt.

"don't body shame me!" alessia gasped, pinching and poking at you as you struggled to throw her off. "i love you too! now get off you're gonna break my ribs." you groaned as she ragdolled on top of you, squealing as you finally got your legs under her and kicked her off onto the floor.

"get out so i can shower! i need a drink." you huffed as she stood, punching you sharply in the arm with a smirk before darting out of your room before you could retaliate.

"hurry up! my god you're like four foot tall how does it take you so long to get dressed?" alessia yelled impatiently, tapping her foot and checking the time on her phone, banging on the bathroom door.

"i am five foot four. and it takes time to look this good alyssa!" you finally opened the door and stepped out, grinning as lotte whistled. "you're not wearing that. go change, right now!" your older sister ordered protectively as your face dropped.

"what! your dress is shorter than mine." you accused as she shrugged. "i'm older i'm allowed to wear whatever i want. you're a baby not a hooker, go change!" your jaw dropped at her words.

"alessia! you can't slut shame or sex work shame now its 2024." you reminded as emily and lotte hummed their agreement. "i was not! but you're not wearing that, go and put on something more age appropriate." the blonde crossed her arms and blocked the hallway with her body as you tried to pass her, giving in with a scowl and retreating.

"you're so fucking overprotective!" you yelled as you stomped down the hall.

"hey thats not your room!" your sister frowned as you took a left and entered her room. "i know, i'm wearing that black dress you wore to mums birthday dinner." you announced with a smirk as your sisters eyes widened.

"oh no you're not! don't you dare even look at anything in-" her door slammed in her face with a lock as she gasped and pounded on it with her fist.

"you have exactly three seconds to get out here you little toad and go to your own room before i break this door and your legs!" alessia yelled threateningly.

"should we just call an uber?" emily mumbled to lotte at the other end of the hallway.

"i already called one they're downstairs right now. lets go before she realises!"

#woso x reader #woso #woso fanfics #woso community #woso imagine #woso blurbs #alessia russo #engwnt #alessia russo x reader

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sydnikov · 1 month

Text

Being Bold || S. Jarvis

Author: Sydney / @sydnikov

Pairing: Seth Jarvis / fem!Reader

Word Count: 7.4k

Summary: Seth has a crush on you. A bad one, and he makes it very obvious throughout the years he’s known you, though you’ve still never taken him seriously because of his immaturity and energetic personality. Much to his chagrin, you keep denying him—until one night, scorned by thoughts of your most recent ex who never knew how to touch you right, you give in to Seth’s advances.

Warnings: 18+ smut, unprotected p in v (birth control usage), oral (f receiving), very slight age gap (reader is 2 years older), alcohol mention, alcoholic consumption, minor mention of violence including blood, cursing

A/N: Wow. This one is something (it’s just smut with a small bit of plot don’t mind my dramatics). Here’s the jarvy debauchery as promised ✨ until the next, thanks for the support as always!

*Minors, you are responsible for your own media consumption. That being said, I will not block you for interacting with this fic or my blog, but always be aware of the content you choose to consume and the consequences it can have.

You’ve only seen Seth Jarvis as a kid.

Well, maybe ‘kid’ is too strong of a word to describe the immaturity gap. You’re only two years older than him, but it’s just that how he acts gives you the impression of a boy.

Not a man, but a boy. And it drives Seth absolutely insane.

He first meets you the year he joins the Hurricanes because you’re friends with the social media director (he later finds out you’re close to Lottie, Jesperi’s girlfriend, as well). He remembers the night vividly, what you were wearing, how soft your hand felt against the calluses on his own. How you looked at him, amusement and softness in the smile you flashed him.

Seth was smitten. Still is, actually, because you’re around more than ever. He sees you everywhere. After games, and even just around Raleigh because you live in the area.

He tries asking you out. Numerous times, but much to his chagrin you always turn him down.

“We just met, Seth.” A week after you first shake his hand.

“Don’t you have a girlfriend?” Well, he did. But, in his defense, he’d just broken up with her after he moved.

“I’m too old for you.” That one hurt, because that’s when he finds out you’re only two years older.

Seth is nothing if not persistent, though. He doesn’t give up even after all the rejections. He’s also pretty sure your reluctance is because you think he’s never touched a woman in his life.

Presumptuous, right? Andrei thinks so when Seth tells him after playing Call of Duty for several hours, but he recounts a conversation you had with Lottie (he still owes her and Jesperi a drink for that, actually) after Seth begged her to slide a good word in.

“You’re not into the mustache?” Lottie had giggled, taking a sip of her martini.

You were drinking a whiskey sour, which he knows because he bought it for you but had Lottie say it was from her. Your face burned red, either because of the alcohol or the question, he doesn’t know.

“No, no,” You laughed. “I like mustaches. And a nice stubble. They feel good on the thighs.”

“So what’s the problem? He’s in love with you, basically.”

“Isn’t he, like, I don’t know… Nineteen?” You had drawled, faking indifference while mixing around the olive in your drink with the little straw it came with.

“He’s twenty-two, babe.” She smirked. “Only two years younger.”

Lottie says she thinks you’re just wary of his immaturity. When he tries defending himself, Jesperi reminds him that he scored a goal the other night, pointed at you behind the glass where you sat with Lottie, and then proceeded to griddy.

Word on the street is that you weren’t impressed.

Nonetheless, Seth can’t change his personality for you, as much as he considers it. He thinks the sun rises and sets on you, but if you truly think you’re too good for him then he does have enough self respect to walk away and get over it.

But… He just doesn’t think that’s the case, here. You only seem reluctant—that’s it.

“You can’t force her to sleep with you, Jarvy.” Andrei tells him, breaking him out of his thoughts.

“I know.” He groans, his chin falling into his hand. “What do I do, then?” And truly, he’s run out of ideas. He’s played silly, nice, gentleman… What else is there left for him to do, other than give up?

Seth thinks of your radiant smile, then groans to himself because fuck. He really doesn’t want to give up.

“Give her space?” Andrei suggests. “Have you tried, just… Going away?” He frowns for a moment, trying to think of the right words in English. “Not ‘going away’—”

“Space? You think she just needs space?”

“Well, not too much space—”

“Svechy you're a genius.” Seth interrupts, jumping out of his seat with renown vigor. “I’ll buy you a drink for this, remind me!” And then he’s springing up from the couch, grabbing his keys and sprinting out the front door.

Andrei blinks. Once, twice, then shakes his head with a laugh. He feels like he should warn you, then promptly decides this is not something he wants to get in the middle of.

Seth takes his teammate’s advice to heart, and gives you the space he thinks you need to process his zealous pursuit of you. He can tell it catches you off guard because he’s stopped following you around like a lost puppy, along with all of the antics normally associated with his creative flirting.

In fact, it’s such a sudden change from what you’re used to that it freaks you out. Hurts a little bit, too, because did he just wake up one day disgusted by the thought of you?

You tell yourself you’re disturbed because you miss the attention. It’s been a while since you’ve had a guy foam at the mouth for you, after all, so now that it’s gone you’re just going through withdrawals.

It’s more than that, though, and you won’t admit it to yourself but when you spy him chatting it up with other girls your stomach twists in a way that you know screams trouble.

Maybe it’s because you just ended things with your latest boyfriend - a bore of a man who couldn’t make time for you outside of his work - and the vulnerability of being alone yet again is getting to you.

Is Seth really so bad? You think about him sometimes, when you’re alone in your apartment or even right in front of him. You’ve always had a soft spot for him, sure, but nothing more than friendly affection.

You’re questioning this now, when his attention is no longer being directed at you, because you distinctly remember him getting into a fight with some other player on the ice, and that’s the first time you remember thinking man and not boy.

The team it was against escapes you, but you remember someone getting in Sebastian’s space with a raised arm, and then Seth came flying in with a fist to the opposing player’s face and a lot of colorful words. Your jaw had dropped as the referees tore them apart, his hair dripping with sweat and a cut welling with blood dripping down his forehead.

The moment forces you to think that maybe altogether, his energetic personality, a smile that never leaves his face, and the unwavering loyalty for his friends combined isn’t such a bad thing after all. The revelation leaves you shaking and feeling quite awkward when he’s around, or even just being brought up.

“Do you miss Scott?” Lottie asks you one day when you’re out for lunch at Perry’s - a steakhouse near her apartment in North Hills - referring to your aforementioned ex-boyfriend. Even his name is boring.

You laugh a little, unable to not roll your eyes though your ire isn’t directed at her. “No. I knew it wasn’t going to last when I got into it, anyways.”

“It’s been about two weeks since you broke up with him.” She says, a statement rather than a question. The look on her face tells you she’s trying to go somewhere with this. “Has anyone caught your eye lately? You’re too pretty to be single, you know.”

It’s obvious that Lottie is trying to ask if you’ve reconsidered Seth at all. It’s been the talk of your whole friend group, including the guys, that he’s suddenly stopped in his bold pursuit of you, though none of them think it’s because he’s lost interest.

“I don’t know.” You whine, begrudgingly stabbing a piece of potato with your fork. “I mean, he’s… Seth.”

“Seth, who has spent his entire time on the Hurricanes trying to win you over?” She says with a raised brow. “Just because he’s had his fun doesn’t mean he’s a bad guy.”

You don’t have a response to that, so instead you just nod. She is right, as much as you hate to admit it. Seth is a successful professional hockey player in his prime, of course he’s been with his fair share of women and will continue to do so as long as he’s single.

If that was your case you’d certainly be having fun, too.

“If his casualness towards dating really bothers you, you should just talk to him.” Lottie says after a moment. “He’s dying for you to speak to him, I swear it.”

You concede. “I’ll talk to him the next time I see him.”

Fortunately for you, that ‘next time’ doesn’t happen for quite a few more weeks, and when you do finally run into him again it’s when you’re slightly tipsy, drinking at a bar near to PNC Arena after the boys have won a game.

You don’t even take note of his presence at first, in the middle of gossiping with some of your friends who just so happen to know the players.

The gossip? Your ex-boyfriend, Scott, and his inability to make you come.

“I mean, he wasn’t bad or anything.” You say. “He had all the knowledge and stuff, just, like, couldn’t do anything. Y’know?” You’re slurring your words a little bit, but everyone around you nods like you’re making some big, important speech.

“So did you have to fake it?” Someone asks. You can’t even remember how Scott was brought up in the first place.

You giggle; you can’t help it. “Oh my god, yes, sometimes it was so bad I had to say I was cramping just to get him to stop trying.” That sends everyone into boisterous laughter, and in your slight drunkenness you can’t help but join in.

The song changes then, and it must be one everyone knows because it scatters you and the rest of the girls into smaller groups, some running to the dance floor while others wander back to the bar. You stay seated, however, content to watch as you sip your drink.

“Whiskey sour?” That’s when Seth makes his presence known. His voice murmured in your ear catches you off guard, and you jump a little as you turn to face him. “Seth.” You greet, not unkindly. “Yeah, but it’s only my second.”

Just as soon as he appeared, he’s jumping back up from his seat next to you. “I’ll get you a third.” You don’t have time to protest as he disappears, and your affection for this rambunctious man only continues to grow as he bounds back moments later, sliding you your drink with a smug grin.

“Thank you.” You smile, a little shy, a little bashful, as you take your first sip. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Anything for my girl.” Ah, there it is. You’re unable to hide the obvious roll of your eyes, but Seth’s smile doesn’t waver. “Not your girl, Seth. Just got out of a relationship, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.” He says. “Scott, right? Sounds like that was doomed from the start.”

You narrow your eyes, unsure of the knowing tone he’s taken on. “And how would you know?”

“He couldn’t make you come, yeah? What a tool.”

Suddenly, your throat is very dry, and you’re taking a very large sip of whiskey that has you wincing. So… He heard you say that, then. Is it hot in here? You have the sudden urge to fan yourself. Fuck fuck fuck. Seth, of all people, should not be making your thighs clench.

You don’t realize how silent you’ve gotten until he speaks up again. “I could make you, you know.”

That has you choking, and you quickly throw back the rest of your drink to soothe your throat. “What?” When you finally meet Seth’s eyes, he’s still grinning at you, though it’s more carnal. His eyes darken as he responds.

“Come. I could get you to come so hard you wouldn’t be able to walk the next day.”

Your reply is meek, knowing deep down inside you’re fighting a losing battle. “Have you even touched a girl before?” He scoffs, and you know as well as he does that he’s been with his fair share of women. It’s one of the reasons you’re so hesitant to take him seriously.

Seth is undeterred, though, as he slides even closer to you. You stare straight ahead, determined not to meet his eyes even though you’re positive there’s a red flush creeping up your neck as his breath tickles your ear.

He says your name, a low purr that’s almost mocking like he can see right through your bullshit because finally, he’s breaking through to you. “You know I have. None of them are you, though.”

You squirm in your seat as his hand creeps up your shoulders, grasping the back of your neck as he gently turns your head to face him. He squeezes reassuringly, and now you’re melting into his embrace as a gasp falls from your lips.

“I want you. You know that, baby.”

“Seth…”

“Let me show you, please?” Then those warm eyes are bearing into your own, and now you’re getting a glimpse of the boy you first met all over again. This time, though, instead of feeling innocent affection all you feel now is heat.

You were stupid to think the adoration he never hesitates to show for you wouldn’t win you over eventually.

Blinking owlishly, you move one of your hands to grip his arm, looking so dainty against the rugged muscle under his skin, and, well. You cave.

“Okay.”

Seth doesn’t expect you to give in so easily. He freezes, doesn’t move until you gain your wits back and pinch his thigh with a gentle roll of your eyes. “Are you just going to sit there or should I find someone else to entertain me?”

That gets him moving. It’s his turn to look anxious as he runs a hand through his hair, still processing the fact that he didn’t have to convince you more. He wasn’t actually expecting to get this far with you—quite literally, the woman of his dreams.

“Shit, okay.” He laughs, jumping out of his seat and lacing his fingers with yours. “You’re serious, then.”

“Somehow.” You deadpan. Somehow your legs are still clenching and your heart is beating a little too fast to be normal. “Don’t fuck it up.”

He looks to you, a little terrified, and you can’t help but break the irritated front and send him a small smile, squeezing his hand reassuringly even as your words are all snark. Truthfully, you’re also scared, but not of the sex, but rather the developing feelings that might grow deeper afterwards.

You just got out of yet another disappointing relationship. You don’t want whatever this is with Seth to end with the same result.

He does a good job of distracting you from your destructive thoughts, though, as he pulls you out of the bar like two teenagers trying to sneak away from their parents. You suppose it’s not unlike that same feeling because Jesperi catches your eye as you exit the doors, and he sends you such a shit-eating grin it has you ducking your head to avoid his obnoxious stare.

You suppose you do owe him a favor now after all.

For the first time ever, standing outside in the biting cold, Seth kisses you as you’re waiting for an Uber. You being busy trying to look like you’re not about to go hook up, he suddenly grabs you by the waist and smooths his lips against yours so good your toes curl.

“Fuck.” He murmurs into your mouth. “I can’t get enough of you.” His teeth catch your bottom lip, and you unabashedly moan. You run your hands up his chest, around his shoulders, and to the back of his neck where you card your fingers through thick strands of hair, tugging from the roots.

“Seth…” You gasp when he detaches his lips from your own only for him to smooth down your jawline, then down to your neck where he sucks wet kisses into your sensitive skin. “Fuck, we’re in public.” With a hiss, you pull him away from your neck and pointedly ignore the wetness in your panties when he groans at the loss of contact.

He looks at you like a baby getting its favorite toy taken away, and you can’t ignore how his desperation turns you on wildly. It takes everything in you to not let him go back to feasting on your neck.

“When’s the Uber getting here?” You ask after a moment. You’re both panting, tipsy from the taste of each other’s lips as you try to catch your breath.

Seth pulls out his phone, and as you admire the way the light illuminates his face you completely miss the words coming from his mouth.

You flush. “Say that again?” Seth grins wickedly, brings you in by the back of your neck and kisses you, then pulls away too soon for your liking. “The Uber. It’s right here.” He then wraps an arm around your waist, digging his fingers deliciously into your skin, and leads you into the Uber as it arrives right on time.

He rattles off his address to the driver, then settles back into the seats. His arm snakes around your shoulders, and you hum your appreciation as you sink into his chest. You feel him kiss the top of your head in response.

You could fall asleep, if you really wanted to. The sudden switch in mood from carnal desperation to gentle affection would give you whiplash if you weren’t so at ease resting against him like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

The drive passes fairly quickly, and Seth doesn’t stop touching you as you make your way up the elevator to his apartment. His hand sneaks to your ass, giving it a squeeze before you slap his arm away.

“Cameras!” You hiss, though it’s with little mirth as a small smile curves up your lips. Seth merely laughs, slides his hand back down to rest on your lower back. “They don’t care. Now c’mere.”

You make out until you can’t breathe, and as you pull away it’s just in time as the elevator doors open. Your heart rate picks up, and you hide your nerves as he grabs your hand and practically sprints out of the elevator with you.

“We have all night, you know.” You giggle, absentmindedly rubbing your thumb over the top of his hand. Seth groans playfully, but his words strike you as serious even as he masks it with a grin.

“Not long enough, babe.”

You don’t respond, partly because you don’t know how to and partly because he’s just unlocked his door, and you’re too busy taking in his apartment. You’ve been to Andrei’s house numerous times, Jesperi and Lottie's apartment, Jordan’s for his famous house parties… It’s just now that you’re realizing you don’t actually know Seth all that well.

What you do know, though, is that he’s eyeing you like he can’t wait to devour you, and the reminder that you don’t even know his favorite color exits your mind as you sidle up to his chest, grabbing him by the lapels of his suit to drag his lips down to yours.

“Time to impress me, lover boy.” You hum into his mouth, fighting a shiver when he nips at your bottom lip. Seth chuckles, one of his hands sliding down your back to squeeze your ass, the other tugging your hair back to expose your neck.

He kisses your cheek once, twice, mouths at your collarbone with teasing bites that have your eyes fluttering shut, and then it’s like he loses patience as suddenly his hands are picking you up by your thighs and curling your legs around his waist.

You squeak in surprise. “Seth!” You admonish, because of course it turns you on that he’s able to throw you around effortlessly. He seems to have that effect on you.

Seth maneuvers the two of you through his darkened apartment with ease, knowing the route to his bedroom like the back of his hand. Your attempts at distracting him include sucking a bright red hickey on his neck, fully intending it for it to be bright enough that his teammates give him hell for it the next day.

Once he pushes open the door with his foot, he brings you to the foot of his bed and unceremoniously drops you. You scoff with indignation at his manhandling, though you know he knows you like it if the smirk on his face is anything to go by.

A tiger stalking its prey, Seth crawls on top of you and meets your eager lips in another kiss. His hands smooth down the curves of your hips to your thighs, slowly spreading them open. He mumbles something, and you miss it completely.

“Hm?” You run your hands through his hair, enjoying the way the black strands are moussed from your touch. Your shirt is also already halfway up your torso as he helps you tear it off. “I said I’ll wear your marks proudly. My girl.” He coos, flicking open the clasp of your bra and immediately moving down to your chest.

“Fuck.” He groans. “They’re beautiful. You’re beautiful.” Your laugh quickly turns to a gasp as he sucks your right nipple into his mouth.

Your other nipple is taken by his fore-finger and thumb, rolling the sensitive nub between the calloused pads. Between him sucking on one tit and playing with the other, you’re practically a whimpering mess, trying to simultaneously wiggle out of his grip yet get closer at the same time.

“Seth,” You whine. “I need you.” You’re admitting it openly, foregoing coyness in favor of your own pleasure. Yeah, so what? You like this overgrown puppy of a man, and you really want to fuck him. Pulling his head back by his hair, you eagerly slam your lips back together.

“Need me?” He grins against your lips. “Where do you need me? Gotta be specific, babe, because I can be here,” He emphasizes a quick squeeze to your tit. “Here,” The other hand smooths over your ass. “Or here...” He trails off into a low rumble, parting your eager thighs.

Based on the tortured groan he lets out, you assume he can probably feel the wetness that’s soaked through your jeans. You’re too turned on to be embarrassed, though.

“Damn it, Seth, just touch me.” You hiss, keeping his hand pressed between your thighs while the other is already working open the button of your jeans. “Fucking tease.” You mutter, though it’s light-hearted and he knows it based on his snicker.

He helps you peel off the rest of your jeans, throwing them somewhere behind you. It’ll be fun trying to hunt for those in the morning. When he sees the dainty white lace covering your pussy, he lets out his most needy sound yet.

“Shit.” He breathes. “Wore these for me? So pretty. My pretty baby.” He murmurs as he thumbs the lace, running two fingers over the soaked fabric. If you could see, you’d guarantee his pupils are blown wide.

Your hips rise at the friction, wanting more. And because you’re still hellbent on resisting him, apparently, you roll your eyes, spitting out your next words. “You knew I was coming home with you, didn’t you? Asshole.” Though your words are all snark, your tone screams laughter.

Strangely enough, the banter gets you off more than any dirty talk in the world. It’s familiar, relaxing, and Seth clearly doesn’t mind either as he merely chuckles. “I just know you that well, don't I?” The look on his face offers no room for argument.

And, well, you suppose he isn’t wrong. You are here in his bed at the end of the day, right?

You grumble something that to his ears sounds like ‘shut up’ and then you’re sliding your panties down your thighs, letting him take care of the rest as, like your other clothes, he tosses them somewhere behind him.

If you thought the sight of your covered pussy would get the best reaction from him, it’s nothing compared to the way his entire body freezes at seeing it bare.

You’d had a feeling something big was going to happen after Lottie's sly words, so you took the liberty of shaving everywhere just two nights before. You’re glad for that, as Seth is looking at the heat between your legs like he doesn’t know where to start.

Teasing him in a normal setting about not knowing how to touch a woman is one thing, but making a remark now as anxious anticipation is all over his face just feels wrong.

You do like him, after all—quite a bit, you’re coming to find.

Reaching out your hand, you wait for him to grasp it before you pull him down to hover over your awaiting form. “C’mere, baby.” The pet-name slips without thought, but you can’t make yourself regret it because the way his face lights up is a look you won’t forget any time soon.

He laughs a little as your eyes finally meet, like he can’t believe he’s actually about to fuck you and you’re going to let him. “Tell me how to touch you?” He asks, not a demand but more of a request.

Taking his right hand, you lead him down the length of your body, over your breasts and down your stomach until your hands are resting just below your navel. “You know how to find the clit?” You tease, partly joking and partly serious.

Seth scoffs like the very thought offends him, and the mild dig does its job of making him forget his earlier nervousness.

“Of course I know where the fucking clit is,” He replies, pointer and middle finger already sliding down and gathering the slickness lathered in your lower lips. “Scott is such a dumbass.”

Well, it seems the familiar, cocky Seth is back now.

“...didn’t even realize what a bombshell he had right in front of him.” You miss the first part of his sentence because he did, in fact, find your clit, and unlike your ex, knows exactly how to touch it.

Your mouth opens into an ‘o’, and Seth hums a pleased noise as his fingers work your sensitive clit into a swollen, throbbing mess. Your hips move in time with the flicks of his fingers and you don’t even realize you’re panting until Seth leans forward and licks a stripe all the way from your navel down to your soaked opening.

When you start bucking into his mouth, he grabs your hips and holds them down to the bed, forcing you to take it. You whine, hands finding purchase in his hair as his tongue laps at you like you’re his favorite meal. He dips into your entrance in time with the quick circles he’s drawing over your clit, and oh, suddenly you’re much closer than you thought.

“Tastes so good.” You hear him grunt. “Can’t get enough of you.”

“Seth,” Gasping, you can’t decide if you want to keep him close or shove him away. “Shit. Seth, fuck, I’m close.”

“Yeah? Already?” Your confession only seems to reinvigorate his efforts, and the next thing you know two long fingers are sliding their way into your cunt. “Gonna come for me?”

Quicker than you expect he finds the sensitive wall of flesh inside you, and his fingers curl up against it which sends you keening. Loudly. You slap a hand over your mouth, but Seth quickly tears it away.

“Nobody here but me and you.” He grins, and just to rub it in, presses a hot kiss to your clit. “I wanna hear you scream.”

“What a gentleman.” You manage to squeeze out, and in revenge for your snark he immediately sucks your clit between his lips and rapidly curls his fingers inside you.

Seth watches with hooded eyes as your own squeeze shut, teeth biting into your kiss-swollen lips while your hands tug at his hair. Your thighs are shaking on each side of his head, and suddenly he wants you to come for him like his life depends on it.

“You gonna come?” He asks. Your walls clamp around his fingers and he knows you’re close. “Yeah? Can you come for me? I know you want to.”

Your entire body shakes all while he keeps you tethered to the bed. Your mind, though, is floating, and you can practically see white as his lips don’t stop sucking, his fingers don’t stop curling, and it’s too much but also not enough and you want to shove him away yet demand he never stops touching you.

And your high is right there, you can practically taste it, but your body is wound so tight and you can’t remember the last time you’ve let go that you remain stuck right on the edge.

There are tears leaking from the corners of your eyes as you tug at his hair. Seth meets your eyes, looks a little concerned after reading the desperation on your face, and then understands when a broken moan tumbles past your lips.

Seth, a little shit as always, brings you back to the edge with his words alone. “It’s been so long, hasn’t it?” He slips in a third finger. “Bet you haven’t had anyone make you feel like this. Just me. Hopefully always me.”

“Seth,” You croak. “Please.”

“I’ve got you.” He urges. “Let go for me. You’re right there, I know it. You’re so tight, fuck, there you go.”

His mocking words echo in your mind with the low drawl of his voice, dark eyes staring at you like you’re a feast, and his damn fingers curling just right against your spongy wall.

His free hand suddenly moves, presses down over your lower abdomen, and oh. “Such a good girl.” Seth croons as you fall apart.

It’s the last thing you hear as your vision goes white, and the heat in your body explodes with wave after wave of ecstasy pumping from the tips of your toes all the way to the hair on your head. Your eyes squeeze shut, and you’re pretty sure you’re making some sort of strangled noise as you ride your high that seems to go on forever.

By the time you come back, your legs are still shaking and Seth is still gently stroking your inner walls with careful circles around your clit. He's my gazing up at you with pure, unbridled adoration and the emotion in his eyes makes your heart thump.

You don’t even realize your fingers are still tangled in his hair until you have to let go because they’re cramping, and then Seth finally removes his fingers and slowly crawls back up your body.

You’re still catching your breath when he presses a long, soft kiss to your lips. “How was that?” He questions almost shyly. His need for reassurance might have had a past you rolling your eyes, but right now all you want to do is hold him and thank him for making you feel so good.

Especially after Scott. Asshole.

You shudder, clit still throbbing as you wrap your arms around his heavy shoulders and bring his weight down on top of you. His very hard cock brushes against your hip with the movement, and you’re reminded that he hasn’t had any semblance of relief yet.

“Thank you.” You whisper. It’s definitely weird to thank someone after they eat you out, right? Probably, but you don’t really care.

His lips brush against your cheek in response, heart swelling at the gentle vulnerability you’re showing him. He’s planning on running to the bathroom to get you a towel, but freezes when he feels your hands peeling off the suit he totally forgot he was wearing.

“Babe?” He mumbles, a little confusingly, but all you do is kiss him and that shuts him up. He doesn’t break contact even as he shrugs off the rest of his suit, peeling off his undershirt until he’s more than halfway bare. Your hands carve lines over the hard planes of muscle on his chest, scratching lightly with your nails over his nipples which has him flinching into your mouth. Snickering, you make your way down the rest of his chest, past his waist, under his boxers, and then you’re wrapping your hand around his hot, pulsating dick.

Seth groans, almost collapsing on top of you as you squeeze lightly. It’s a dream come true, him touching you and now you touching him. He wants to close his eyes at the feeling of your gentle strokes, but he insists on keeping them open to watch the enraptured look on your face.

Then your other hand moves, unbuttoning his slacks and sliding them over his hips and that’s when he jerks back to the present. “Sweetheart,” He gasps. “You… You don’t have to.”

You smile at his breathlessness. “You don’t want to fuck me?” You pout, though it quickly turns back into a grin when his eyes widen in panic. Another day you’d blow him, when you aren’t so desperate to get him inside you.

Seth briefly removed himself from on top of you to lean over his bed, rifling through his nightstand drawer. You assume he’s looking for a condom and that his efforts fail when he eventually closes the drawer with a curse.

He looks back to you, all messy hair, swollen lips, and glistening eyes. “I don’t have a condom.” He informs regretfully.

“I’m on the pill, if you’re…” You trail off, unsure. “If you’re okay with that. And I’m clean.”

“Hell yes I’m okay with that.” He breathes. His cock hardens even more at the thought of feeling you raw, if even possible. “I’m clean too.” And then he’s kissing you again, long and slow and deep, and you’re happy to let him take the lead as your brain is still trying to play catch-up from your orgasm.

Seth eventually breaks away only to reattach to your neck, nipping at the skin likely already covered in his marks, hands now making their way back down your body. He playfully flicks your nipple as he does so, grins when you flinch upwards.

“Have I told you how much I love your body?” He says in-between kisses, almost like an afterthought. He’s in the middle of spreading your thighs open, fingers slipping through your leftover wetness and brushing your clit when you respond.

You help in his endeavors, raising your legs to curl over his hips as he situates himself on top of you. “You’ve mentioned it a few times, I think.” You reply, breath hitching when his cock presses against you.

“It’s perfect.” He continues, like he didn’t even hear you. “You’re perfect.” He wraps his hand around his dick, guides the head to your entrance and pushes in. All words escape you, and your head falls back with a moan.

He sinks into you with a pleasurable sound of his own, eyes squeezing shut as your warmth envelops him. Sucking in a breath through his teeth, he thrusts slowly into you, bottoming out. “So tight.” He hisses.

“Oh, fuck,” You whimper, digging your nails into his back. Seth stills, thinking he's hurting you. “Shit, am I—”

“Don’t you dare stop.” You quickly interrupt, crying out when his tip rubs against your sensitive inner walls just right. Seth relaxes at your words, a cocky grin spreading over his face. “Sorry, sorry.” He chuckles, picking up the speed of his thrusts.

Like before when his tongue was in you, it doesn’t take you long before noises are escaping your throat uncontrollably or for your legs to tremble from where they’re wrapped around his waist. The sensations are more because you’re already so sensitive, so strung-up, and so eager for another release that you give up any pretenses of trying to play cool.

Your head lolls back onto the bed, all strength leaving your body as Seth happily does all the work on top. Quick, short pants are coming from his mouth, and his chest is heavy where it presses down against yours. With every thrust his pelvis is rocking into your clit, sending sparks up your body as you clench rhythmically around his cock. It’s burning you from the inside-out in the best way possible, and very quickly you’re already approaching the edge.

You try to express your impending release, but all that’s able to come from your mouth is one long moan. Seth, somehow, knows exactly what that noise means, and is suddenly pulling out. “What the fuck?” You practically shout with indignation, glaring at the man on top of you with squinted eyes.

Ever the comedian, he only laughs at your irritation. “Hold on, bear with me.” His hands grab your waist, then rolls you over onto your stomach. He raises your hips, pushing down on your lower back into an arch, and all previous complaints leave you as he’s unable to help himself and runs his hands over your ass.

You’ll think later on why him being unfazed with your attitude makes your heart warm.

“Spread your legs for me.” He murmurs, tapping at the junction between your thighs. You do as he says, and shiver when his fingers go to part your cunt once you’re open. You can’t see his face, but imagine the look on it to be one of enrapturement. You turn your head finally, pressing your hips down onto his hand where it remains touching you.

Your earlier guess was right; his pupils are blown wide, jaw hung open just a little bit at having this view of you from behind. Meeting his eyes, you stare imploringly.

While the sudden need for him scares you, you don’t shy away. Rather, you meet his desires head-on in the form of pushing your hips back against him when he finally pushes in, smothering a whimper as his body looms over yours.

Neither of you talk in favor of letting your pleasure speak for you. The new position feels more intimate, oddly enough; his chest presses onto you from every angle, and you can feel his breath every time he pants into your ear. At the same time his arms are wrapped around your waist, hands kneading at the flesh of your hips while he thrusts into you from behind.

All too soon you’re reaching your peak just like before, and the buildup feels so sweet because he’s hitting you deeper, unrelenting in his thrusts despite how your arms collapse from underneath you. Seth doesn’t flinch, merely picks you back up and presses a hand to your abdomen to keep you there.

With your arms free, you realize that your clit is feeling neglected, and as you sneak your right hand in-between your legs he’s suddenly beating you to it, slapping your own hand away and replacing it with his own.

When it’s all said and done, you don’t think you’ll ever forget the feeling of his fingers circling your sensitive nub so deliciously. Between his dick rutting into your sweet spot mercilessly and the rough pads of fingers stimulating your clit, your eyes are slamming shut with your mouth opening in a silent scream as for the second time that night, Seth is sending you into release.

He carries you through it with noncommittal praise while you’re lost in white noise and starry vision. The sight of you crumbling beneath him sends sparks throughout his body, and it doesn’t take long between the rhythmic clenching of your cunt and the pleasured sounds falling from your lips for him to flood your insides with his cum.

“Oh, fuck—fuck, fuck, fuck.” Seth loses any semblance of restraint of trying to be gentle, as his last thrusts rattle your frame and have you whimpering by the time he’s done releasing, your overstimulated clit throbbing in time with the slow rocks of your calming bodies. “So good. You did so good, yeah?” Seth is rumbling into your ear, voice hoarse and tired as he carefully slides out of you. Eyes still closed, you flinch at your sensitivity. “Sorry, babe.” He whispers, having to regroup for a moment as his softening cock meets cool air after being buried inside you.

You attempt to speak, but the only sound that leaves your mouth is a groan as your aching limbs stretch. You don’t bother opening your eyes yet, either, perfectly content to lay in your post-orgasmic pleasure and not think about the future.

Seth doesn’t let you wallow for long, however, as he’s suddenly leaning over you again. “Can you turn over? I have a towel, it’s warm.” He asks, back to shy and unsure. Now that you’re not caught up in the throes of sex, he’s not quite sure how you’re going to act. “You also need to go pee.”

Your default moods of snarky and mildly irritated is what he gets. “No.” You grumble, though it’s not mean as you bury your head in his pillow, still flat on your stomach. Having no energy to move, you don’t expect Seth to do anything about it, either.

He raises a brow at your sass, not quite sure if he should be relieved or concerned. Huffing, he makes a grab for your hips. “Guess I’m carrying you to the bathroom, then.”

“Seth!” You shriek as he attempts to manhandle you, a burst of energy fueling your efforts in trying to get away. “You little shit, no, fine, fine!” And Seth wins just like that, as you concede the battle and roll from your stomach onto your back. You glare as he leans over your torso, bringing the towel down to clean up the mess in-between your thighs.

His confidence comes back, little by little, as the banter returns naturally and your dynamic doesn’t change despite indulging in your bodies’ most primal desires. “You’ll thank me in the morning.” He grins when he finishes, sliding off the bed to bring it back to the bathroom. You follow, doing your business so quickly you leave before he’s done with his own.

When he comes back you’re in the same position he left you in, like you never left. “So I’m staying the night, then?” You prompt as he goes to sit next to you, a little teasing, a little serious. Where do you stand with him now?

He shrugs, masking his nervousness. “If you want to.” He sinks his teeth into his lip, eyeing you from where he sits. He can’t tell what you’re thinking, and it slightly unnerves him.

Your mysteriousness is also what captivated him about you in the first place too, though. With that, he realizes he wouldn’t have gotten this far if you hadn’t liked him at least a little bit. Taking a deep breath, he takes the bold route, grabs your hand, and does what he does best:

Be bold.

“I want you to stay though, like, really badly.” He admits, meeting your curious eyes. You suck in a breath at his words, and Seth continues. “You know I like you. A lot. And I think you like me too.”

As if knowing he’s waiting for your reassurance, you reply quietly. “A little presumptuous of you, yeah?”

Seth grins, and you can’t help but wonder how you were able to resist it for so long.

“So… You’ll stay?” He tilts his head, reminding you of a puppy. You go to respond, maybe with another sarcastic reply, and he seems to know this even before you do. “Please?”

And, well, you can’t deny him when he’s looking at you like that; soft, brown eyes full of adoration gazing at you like you’ve hung the stars and the moon. “Okay.” You relent, grinning happily as he mouths something like ‘fuck yeah’ and rolls over next to you.

“Do you want to shower?” He suddenly asks, after you’ve already curled underneath his sheets with your body pressed against his. He makes a nice furnace, and you’re mad at yourself for not indulging in him sooner. “Because I have a big one. It has these jets that spray from different angles, and you can go alone or I can join or—”

“Seth.” You interrupt, poking his chest to get his attention. He gulps at the amused expression on your face. “Stop talking.”

“Okay.”

It’s silent for several minutes, and you’re almost asleep until he speaks up again.

“Can I be your boyfriend now?”

“Oh my god.” You hiss. “If I say yes will you let me go to sleep?”

You can’t see his face but you know for a fact there’s a stupid grin on it. “You know, I think you’re gonna fall in love with me one day.”

“Keep dreaming, babe.” You say.

But you both know he won’t be dreaming for long.

A/N: I like this one a lot tbh. But my lord I didn't realize how repetitive writing smut is so I need to have at least a little plot established before I can just jump into it 😭 regardless, I hope this is everything y’all wanted in terms of me writing for him and more! Please be sure to reblog and comment, thank youuuuu

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kookslastbutton · 9 months

Text

Love's Remedy, On Fire ༓ jjk (m) l ch. I

✑ Summary: Jungkook is a romantic. He comes from a highly intelligent family who wants him to carry out the lineage. Being this way, he goes to college to be a pharmacist but his friends say college isn't just about studying! With a little persuasion, he goes to his first frat party thinking his hat will help him pick up a girl-or woman he means.

Pairing: STEM major!virgin!jungkook x STEM major!hot girl!reader

AU/genre: angst, smut, fluff, s2l, college au, mini-series

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 3,027

Warnings: jk is very cute and determined, jk a romantic, oc has philophobia (fear of relationships), oc is not mean here but she teases jk, feat Jackson and Jae-beom, if i missed warning lmk!

Now Playing: seven, summertime sadness, she’s kerosene, angels like you+

A/N: um ok I swear this was supposed to be a pwp crack fic about jk wanting to get laid with a hat on. This turned into a very angsty but fluffy series and I'm sorry 😬 lmk what you think and tysm for reading! 💞 I know title is sucky

ch. lI >> | series masterlist

Over the entirety of his nineteen years, Jungkook was pushed to prepare for one thing—college entrance exams.

It was a huge deal and getting into one of the leading universities in South Korea was a must for him. You see, the Jeons were nobody to laugh at with the bulk of them being high-ranking medical doctors, engineers, and lawyers. Continuing this legacy, therefore, was far from a choice, Jungkook had to follow suit.

When the results of the exams came back Jungkook passed with flying colors. It wasn't a surprise though since he spent all his time studying his ass off until the dawn. Jungkook indeed got accepted into one of the most prestigious universities in Seoul and his parents, teachers, and friends were quick to give their congratulations. He felt good too...no, he felt damn good.

Now he was here he was, standing in the middle of campus with his bag slung over one shoulder and a few orientation papers in his hand. It was still the first week of classes and he desperately needed to get to the science building. (He had chosen to follow his father's footsteps and go into biochem).

"Excuse me," he asks with nervous eyes and a wobbling lip. "Do you happen to know where the science building is? I'm late for class but I can't seem to find it."

The student he walks up to for directions looks about his age. He isn't sure if she's in her first year like him but she looks competent with the way she's standing, feet spread apart and a hand on her hip. The skirt she's sporting is incredibly short but the top is full length. She's smacking on hot pink gum as well, popping bubbles every now and then.

"Keep walking straight until you see the statue of President Kim, then take a right. The science building will be right there." You hardly spare him a glance but you make the mental note that he's cute with his fluffy black hair and big lost eyes. You consider asking his name but you shrug the feeling. He was cute yes, but he was too cute which isn't your type.

Jungkook gives a small thank you and walks off. Your directions are vague, but hopefully finding the statue will help him. After a few steps, he looks over his shoulder to see you laughing with your friend.

You have a gorgeous smile.

Probably the last time he'll see you though, he thinks. Jungkook isn't sure how he'd be with a woman given the fact he's never been with one. Surely he'd do better than half the dumbasses out there but guys like him don't stand a chance with a woman like you.

You look like you go for the experienced type and that wasn't him. He goes back to what he was doing, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"Hey man, what's your name?" A young guy with bleached blonde hair slides into the seat next to him. Apparently, he wasn't the only one late. "I'm Jackson." The man goes in for a fist bump but stops when it's very obvious it won't be reciprocated.

"I'm Jungkook," he says, more concentrated on what his professor is saying than anything else. Jackson continues talking, however, despite his focused state.

"So, I'm assuming this is your first year?" Jungkook nods. "Me too. Where you from?"

"Busan."

"Cool cool, I'm from Hong Kong." Hearing this makes Jungkook shift his eyes over immediately. The last thing he expected was to meet someone from China. Was this Jackson dude just pulling his leg or was he being serious? Nevertheless, it intrigues him.

"I'm an exchange student." Jackson clarifies. "Always wanted to see what South Korea was like and I know Seoul's got a pretty thriving economy so..." He shrugs. "Figured I'd give it a go and my parents support it. As long as I stay on my doctor's track of course."

Well damn. A doctor was not what Jungkook assumed a guy like Jackson would be going for. This was a prestigious school but it's still a gen ed class they're in right now. Anyone from most majors could be taking it. If he had to guess, Jackson would be a businessman.

"Well enough about me though," Jackson quips. "What do you study?"

"Biochem. My dad works as a physician and my mom's a chemical engineer. I'm going for pharmacology."

"Shit bro," Jackson cusses freely. Jungkook doesn't mean to jump in response but he does. Being all formal talk at home, it's unventured territory. "You guys must be a family of geniuses. Wait...what's your last name?"

"Jeon?"

Jackson nearly falls back in his chair when he hears the name fall from Jungkook's lips. He covers his mouth with both hands to keep himself under wraps. "Are you serious? You're from the Jeon family? Fuck, man, I've been hearing about your family since I was a kid that's how influential your family has been in the medical industry."

Jungkook finds himself intertwining his hands. His family is well-established in what they do but it never occurred to him that they were that well-known. Sure his dad's been featured in a couple of magazines for his work and his mom's been given several awards for her research. But he didn't think they'd gone that publicly beyond their own town.

"Oh shit I'm sorry. Am I making you uncomfortable talking about this? Promise you I'm not a creep or anything!" The urgency in Jackson's tone stirs up the classroom, peers looking over at the two of them in annoyance.

"Do you mind shutting up?" A chestnut-haired boy is the first to speak up. He looks thoroughly pissed, to say the least with his cat-like eyes narrowing at the both of them. "Some of us actually want to graduate here."

"Chill out man. We're sorry." Jackson gives Jungkook a small tight-lipped smile. "We'll talk later."

"We will?"

Jackson gives him a slap on the back. "Yeah it's a given. You and I," he gestures between the two of them. "We should stick together. Being that we're both new around here and we both studying med. Also, was going to wait to tell you but I wanna go to this awesome party that goes on that kicks off the year. You'd think I'd be confident to go by myself but if you're free, I could use a buddy."

A party. Some blonde-haired boy who could very likely become the center of attention wants him, Jeon Jungkook, to go to a party? Jungkook spends most of his time playing video games, studying chem tables, and watching p—well he shouldn't say that part out loud.

"If you don't want to then I get it." Jackson scratches his head. "I don't wanna pressure you or anything. We did just meet and I just thought you looked cool so...."

"Okay." Jungkook accepts before giving it much thought. Besides studying, he was told college was a time to also let loose and have fun. Freedom and all that. That's what his friends back home told him at least. They also mentioned getting laid but...who would give him that fat chance?

If anything, maybe he'll get a friend by going to this little party. Jungkook shoots a small smile in return.

"Okay listen," Jackson says, opening the door to his black Lexus. "I heard this party gets crazy so just be smart and don't get into too much punch."

Jungkook hops in the passenger seat. "But I love punch." He straps his seatbelt in, totally unaware of the punch Jackson"s referring to.

"It's spiked Kook. And I'm guessing your alcohol tolerance is pretty low?" Jackson twists the key and pulls out of the campus parking lot. He doesn't mean to be insulting or anything but his new buddy doesn't look like the party-hardy kinda guy.

In fact, Jungkook decided to....well, wear a hat to this gig. It's not a baseball cap, beanie, or even a greasy cowboy hat.

It's a sunhat. Black at least.

"By the way Jungkook. I don't wanna sound like a dick or anything but can you explain the thing on your head? Because the rest of you looks great, black dress shirt and jeans."

"Oh um." Jungkook rubs his hands on his thighs. He's embarrassed to tell Jackson the truth but he's his buddy now, right? Maybe this can be a bonding thing for them. "I thought it was cute? I mean I wanna...ah." Jungkook lets out a nervous chuckle.

"What is it, man? I promise I won't judge."

"I wanna," he starts again. "Uhm you see I heard that if you wear something out of the ordinary that people will like you more or something. Like they'll be interested..."

"Mhm, cute and out of the ordinary things huh? What kind of people are you trying to impress Jungkook?" Jackson gives a knowing smirk. Who knew his buddy schemes these kinds of stuff.

Jungkook speeds through the answer. "Grs."

"Say it properly and slower."

"Wanna get a girl....woman! I mean...a woman." Jungkook sheepishly grins at Jackson. Please don't laugh at me, he begs silently.

"You dog!" Jackson pushes Jungkook's shoulder. "My little buddy is a man, well well well. So are you looking for a girlfriend or something else?"

"Wife!" Jungkook bugs out his eyes, no hesitation at all. Jackson struggles not to give even the slightest snort. Didn't Jungkook know what kind of party this is?

"That's very sweet but this isn't the place you're going to find a wife, Jungkook. That's more like if we were going to a speed dating thing....this, this is a frat party, little bro."

Jackson pulls up to the front of the giant, lit-up house. They could hear electronic music blasting outside and all over the lawn were shirtless guys and scantily-dressed women. Some were off making out while others were drinking in groups.

Jungkook tenses at the sight. He used to fancy black tie parties where everyone is dressed to the hill and drinking is moderate. Jackson is right, he is not finding a wife here. Dammit. But he really doesn't want to give up his hat.

"Yo Jackson," a guy with pitch-black hair greets the man with a fist bump. So that's how it's done, Jungkook observes. "Glad you could make it!"

"Jae-beom, what's good man?! I wouldn't miss this party for the world. I brought a friend." He ushers Jungkook to come forward. "This is Jungkook. He's in my class."

"Nice to meet you Jungkook!" Jae-beom moves in for a fist bump which ends up making contact with Jungkook's fist. It's not as sharp as with Jackson but it's a fist bump. "I used to work with Jackson over the summer. Always stealing my tips this man!"

"Hey, I did not do that!" Jackson gives a hearty laugh and shoves Jae-beom hard enough for him to lose his balance a little. "You kept leaving for a smoke. I had to wait your tables half the time!"

"I wasn't going for a smoke Jack—woah hey baby. What's your name?" The man shifts his focus to the girl walking past them. She has bright red lipstick, a black crop top, and jean shorts.

"Fuck off." She snaps before looking at Jungkook. "Cute hat by the way."

Everyone looks at Jungkook at that moment who's motionless. They hope to god he says something back but he only stares. The girl smirks at him and quirks her head to the side. "What's your name? I gotta friend who'd be all over you in a heartbeat, though she'd never admit it."

Jackson throws a mouth over his hand, eyes wide in amusement. This girl did not just propose Jungkook, his buddy who's looking for a wife, to get off with her friend.

"Um...yeah no. No, it's okay but thanks." Jungkook can barely sound the words. This girl in front of him was really, really hot but intimidating. "Yes thank you but I'm looking for a..."

"Don't-" Jackson lunges forward.

"Wife." Jungkook smiles at the girl a little too angelically. "I'm Jungkook though. What's your name?"

The girl bites her lip. "Well, it's too bad then Jungkook. Because you're so fucking cute and I know you'd like each other. Why don't you meet her? Even if it's just to say hi?"

Jungkook looks at Jackson who only shrugs. "Up to you man."

Jungkook makes his way through the heavy crowd. He bumps into a few people on the way but thankfully he's able to still see the girl, apparently who goes by Crystal.

Jungkook isn't convinced it's her real name but if that's what she wants to be called who is he to dispute?

Once they get to the other side of the room, Jungkook spots a woman with a tight black dress on. It falls mid-thigh and has laced-up sides. When they near the woman Jungkook feels himself sweating bullets.

"__!" Crystal taps on your shoulder. "I brought you, someone, to meet. This is Jungkook!"

You turn around, drink in hand. You look fucking stunning. Jungkook can't believe it's you. He's seeing you again and he wishes he didn't wear this damn hat now! He goes to yank it off but Crystal stops him.

"Hey, the hat's cute. Keep it on!"

"I-but," he looks at you. "But it's making me hot." You're making me hot.

You give a shrug. "Do what you want Jungkook. It's your head at stake." You take a sip of your drink. You really did not expect to see the shy guy from this morning be at a frat party. "Good to see you again."

"Oh, you know each other?"

"We had a slight run in this morning. Baby had to get to the science building." You take a scan at what he's wearing. Black shirt that cuts at the elbows, denim jeans, and sneakers. Not bad compared to the sweater he was wearing this morning.

"I'm—I'm not a baby." Jungkook can't stop himself from feeling offended. Whether you meant it to be condescending or not, he doesn't want to be seen as a baby! Especially not to you. "I'm a man, okay? I go to the gym and stuff."

"Okay I'm sorry," you say. "I just call everyone baby. I didn't mean anything."

That doesn't seem to relax Jungkook. "I can lift a fuck ton of weights too." He stops once he hears himself cuss out loud. Usually, he does that in his head....goddamn it.

"Mmm," you step towards him, careful not to touch him. Usually by now you'd already be in the bathroom getting railed by some punk but not tonight. Jungkook has your attention. "Can you now? I'm not sure if I believe you. You're kind of a twig, not to be rude or anything."

Jungkook's face turns to a darker shade, eyes piercing into yours. "I can show you I'm not lying."

"Go ahead, do what you will." You fake a yawn until you find yourself suddenly in his arms. They're a lot stronger and more muscular than you thought. "Jungkook! Put me down!"

Everyone at the party starts staring over, giggling at each other. Jungkook gives a satisfied grin. "I have you in my arms, what are you gonna do now? Not believe me again?"

"I-" You're certain your face glowing with embarrassment. "Um no, I believe you Jungkook. Please, set me down."

"Not til you say it --." He challenges-brat. "Say I'm not a baby."

"Jungkook I told you I call everyone baby. It wasn't-okay you're not a baby. Obviously, you lift a lot now please put me down."

Finally, he does what you ask, a proud face on. His hat is a little crooked so you reach out and fix it. It's a reflexive response, you don't even know what you're doing let alone Jungkook.

"Oh, sorry your hat was just-"

"Please go out with me. On a date I mean?" He's so terribly timid but he can't help himself now. He had you in his arms and you're just so beautiful and charming. He needs to know more about you. It's a must.

"Well, I-" Everyone waits for your answer, very nosy clearly. You look at Jungkook with his big eyes and pouty lips. You don't wanna say no but relationships aren't your thing. And it seems that is defiantly all he's in for.

Jungkook's shoulders sulk. He isn't expecting a yes but he was hoping that maybe you'd give him a tiny chance.

"Come on __," Crystal whispers. "Look at him. Don't you think he's cute? Like really cute?"

You look at your best friend with weary eyes. He's so cute but, there's that but. That relationship but. He's going to be the type to want to do all the couple things and snuggle and everything. Jungkook needs someone who is willing to do all the stuff and you? You're not good at any of it.

"I'm sorry Jungkook," you start. "I don't know if-"

"One date __. If it's a no I won't bother you again. I just....I just think you're really gorgeous and I wanna get to know you. That's all." He takes the hat off his head, letting his fluffy hair run free. You kinda wanna touch it if it didn't makes things weird.

His words, however, make your heart thump the tiniest amount. The only time you've ever been called gorgeous is when guys try to get in your bed. It's all you've known other than maybe from a relative. Gorgeous is used pretty regularly, you know that, but this time it's used in an entirely different context.

"I'll tell you what," he says, pulling out his phone. "I'll give you my number and if you change your mind text me or call. I won't bug you and you can delete it right after this if you want, I promise."

You end up taking his number and Jungkook leaves to go back to his buddies. "You should go out with him __," Crystal says.

"I don't know." You watch him stride away. "I'll think about it."

A/N: what am i doing? Idk im running away now bye! lmk what you think and tysm for reading! Comment/ask to be on taglist 💞

Masterlist

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

#bangtanbathhouse #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #bts smut #bts fanfic #bts imagine #bts x reader #fic:lovesremedyonfire #kookslastbutton

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somnambulic-thing · 3 months

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Scar Tissue

Eddie Munson x afab!reader

||post-S4 post-apocalyptic, new relationship, angst, fluff, mentioning of scars on reader and Eddie, implications of severe injuries, nothing runny though||

read on ao3

“I don’t want you to go.”

A confession born a whisper at the sight of his bare back that’s turned to you. It’s the sight of nearing departure and your throat feels so tight like the neck of an hourglass and twice as fragile as the seconds trickle away and you’re still so hungry for more time.

Time with him.

Sat on the edge of your bed, busy lacing up his heavy boots, Eddie halts and sits upright. He doesn’t turn around though.

The space between you is filled with the scent of a night spent fused into one – sandalwood incense, weed and sex - but void of the promise to be bridged again.

At the end of the world, promises like that felt like lies in waiting.

The rustling of sheets and the dip of the mattress prepare him for the impact of your touch and he tilts his head to the right to make room for your lips. They press against his shoulder, warm and wet and a little rough where they are chapped at the bottom and it’s all consuming, how they move up and up while your arms wrap around him. Fingers splayed on the scarscape of his chest, holding him tight against the impossible bliss of your body.

“I don’t want you to leave,” you breathe just beneath his ear before your tongue traces along the pink mangled skin that forms a ragged ring around his neck and the sensation makes him choke on a confession of his own.

Leaving you feels like dying. Every time.

He would know. He’d been there.

“I don’t want to leave either, sweetheart.”

Feeling his resolve start to crack and crumble he holds onto your arms, finding that one thick, gnarly scar running from the palm of your hand along the soft skin of your forearm and traces it with his thumb. You had been there too.

Three months and he could read every inch of you with his fingertips, knew the story to each and every mark scattered across the battlefield that held you within.

He would die for you. But he’d rather live for you. With you.

“Then stay,” you say, tearing into him with a voice so soft he can’t but turn his head to follow the sound to the source.

You know it’s not fair, not much is anymore but it is bearable when his lips slide against yours like this; hot and sticky and eager.

“Wayne needs me down at the plant,” he mutters before he sucks your lower lip into his mouth, then twists out of your grip to push you back into the sheets. “Gotta keep the lights on.”

And the fences charged.

There’s no conviction in his voice but so much desire in his eyes as he crawls over you and you know he is right but he’s here and it’s hard to think beyond that. After years of endless night and surviving with monsters under your bed, Eddie’s presence felt like the dawn.

And then he grins at you, lopsided, motion restrained by tough scar tissue along the edge of his jaw and it’s the most beautiful thing in the world, makes your skin tingle and your breath hitch and your heart pick up the pace. His head dips down, gentle lips trace tender kisses along your sternum. You know what comes next.

His knees part yours and you welcome his weight as he slowly settles on top of you. Rough hands slide below your shoulder blades and the tips of his messy hair drag up your skin with a tickle that soon envelops you whole when his ear finds the sound of your heartbeat and rests against it.

Eddie sighs and listens.

Maybe this is the most beautiful thing in the world. Sometimes, it's hard to choose.

“Ten minutes,” he says and you don’t argue. You embrace him.

Thirty minutes later, your fingertips are wet with one or two stray tears you brushed from his cheek. With your back pressed against the door, you lick the salt of your skin.

You start to count—

one two three four

and swallow the filthy rabid rodent of anxiety that’s crawling up your throat—

nine ten eleven twelve

spilling some salt of your own—

nineteen twenty twenty-one

allowing yourself those eighty-six seconds it took Eddie to get from the third floor of what once was a hotel and is now a village to reach the exit—

fifty-five fifty-six fifty-seven

pushing yourself off the door, you put one foot in front of the other on your way to the window, plucking the rifle from its place on the wall—

sixty-eight sixty-nine seventy seventy-one

The square in front of the hotel is a maze of chainlink fences separating the streets from open space with deadly doses of electricity. The gates scattered across the world were slowly slowly slowly closing like infected wounds in a weak and drained body. Democreatures had grown less and less over the years but to let down your guard was never an option—

eighty eighty-one eighty-two eighty-three

You hear the sharp buzzer of the door, the heavy clink clink of the iron gates and you let your gaze wander across the scene, the same as several unseen guards ready and armed to the teeth with special ammunition. You wonder if Hopper is on shift today—

eighty-six

Eddie is so small from up here, shrinking more and more with each step he takes toward the parking lot and it almost breaks your mind because inside you the Eddie-shaped space just keeps expanding.

Just before he’s about to vanish around a corner he stops and turns and even from here, you can see his big bright smile. He waves and throws you one two three kisses.

And then he’s gone.

general tag list:

@bettyfrommars @dr-aculaaa @deathbecomesthem @songforeddiemunson @potthealien2423 @raccoonboywrites @eveybitch @jo-harrington @lunatictardis @skrzydlak @moonbeamsandmayhem @slutforstabbings @eddieslooneymoonie

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #Eddie Munson fic #my fic

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moltengoldveins · 8 months

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What? oh it’s nothing just the crippling grief of watching a nineteen year old abuse victim with a barely-functioning support system and a manipulative father figure try his absolute hardest to give the child he was unwillingly saddled with something resembling childhood by making war a game. Because he doesn’t have any other ideas. It’s just the slow horror of her wonder and innocence dimming over time. It’s just how her childishness was portrayed not as the good and right nature of her age, but a liability on the battlefield. Not only that, but her childhood personality was actively loathed by us, the fans watching, because it was annoying. Have you ever met a fourteen year old who wasn’t annoying? It’s the dawning realization that none of us liked Ahsoka much until she’d had her innocence seared out by blaster fire. It’s the shame of knowing that we saw her slow painful slide into loss and suffering as growth, as development into something more palatable, less bothersome, more mature for her age. Because it’s fiction, and fiction doesn’t need to be realistic, just entertaining, and we’d never look at a Real Kid that way. It’s just the knowledge that anakin was a slave with a slave mother until he was nine, and at nine spoke with the gravity and wry wit of someone who has witnessed hell. It’s that he was married with a child at nineteen, crouched in the dirt bloody as bombs shot overhead and his little sister tried not to cry in his arms and his men died without hope beside him, and would stay that way for three years.

They stop keeping score a few seasons in. I don’t remember when. They stop because it wouldn’t work anymore, it wouldn’t be funny. We wouldn’t find it funny. Games can’t make war fun when you aren't a child.

#the clone wars #star wars #its very late #im feeling things #lots of them #someone help I’m so sad about this show #ahsoka tano #anakin skywalker

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bit-odd-innit · 9 months

Text

Fic: One Good Honest Kiss

“What do you mean you don’t remember?” Eddie, pancaked on Steve’s bedroom floor, scrunches his shoulders up to his ears in an approximate shrug. He’s drunk. They’re both drunk. “I think he was nice.” “You think?!” “I don’t know, dude.” Eddie’s hands drag over his face, through his hair, his arms and fingers unfurling vine-like above his head. His back arches into the stretch. Steve’s eyes flick to the flash of skin between the hem of Eddie’s shirt and the top of his belt. “I was nineteen, it was dark, and he was nice. What more do you want.” Steve should let it go. It’s nothing. It’s inconsequential. But also no it’s not. It’s fishhooked deep within his chest cavity, yanking him off the bed and floundering to sit at Eddie’s hip. His hand closes around Eddie’s knee. “Your first kiss is supposed to mean something.” Eddie snorts. “Says who?” “Says—I don’t know, society?” “When have I ever adhered to the weather-vaning whims of society?” “...Weather-vaning?” “Like, uhh, like fucking...the ever-shifting winds of change...” “Ohhh.” “Like. The wind. Guh. I don’t know. I’m a...metal...guy...on peoples roofs?” “Uh-huh?” “You’re mocking me.” “Yeah. But go on.” “I don’t know!” His voice bubbles with laughter. “I don’t know. People want things in a way? And I’m different, in a way. Stop laughing.” It’s easy to be buoyed by Eddie’s exuberance. It’s easy to lose the plot in the sparkling, seafoamy burst of his laughter. His forearms flop to fold over each other, ringed fingers gripping his opposite elbows. His tongue rests like a meek chewing gum bubble between the rows of his teeth, his grin self-effacing. His eyes are fixed, unmoving, on Steve’s face. As if he’s searching for something Steve is unwilling or unable to concede. “I don’t know, man,” Eddie groans. “I wanted to get it over with.” At once Steve is dragged back, bereft, to shore. “Honey,” he says and he shouldn’t, sees how Eddie’s body jerks as if electroshocked. “Yeah. Well.” Eddie is no longer looking at him. “What’re ya gonna do?”

“Do you want a do-over?”

Eddie’s eyebrows raise. “What?” “A do-over. Like.” There’s a tear in Eddie’s jeans in the center of his thigh. His thumbnail catches in the soft, spiderweb-like white thread, the calloused pad grazing Eddie’s skin. “Like you can get the Moment you always wanted.” “You don’t know what I want.” He pushes the words out of him, like he’s grappling down his body’s base impulses. “I’m asking what you want.” Eddie’s mouth falls open around a sigh. He blinks, slow. “How did you kiss those girls?” His voice is low but his legs slide out from under him. Steve’s hand travels, involuntary, to Eddie’s hip. “You’ve got a reputation. How did you kiss them?” Steve rolls to crush Eddie beneath his weight. One hand settles over the cross-section of Eddie’s wrists, the other buries itself in Eddie’s hair. “Do you want me to kiss you like I kissed those girls?” Eddie whines. “Oh. Honey.” Eddie’s arms lock around Steve’s neck. “Do you want me to kiss you like one of my girls?” Eddie’s ankle hooks around Steve’s thigh. “Do you want to be my girl?” “Oh God,” Eddie pants. “Please. Please. Kiss me first?” “Mm?” “Want to feel wanted,” Eddie exhales. “Want to feel wanted by you—” And he melts as Steve’s mouth crushes into Eddie’s, sinks into him like rain-drunk soil. Feels the scratch of carpet biting at the backs of his arms; tries to remember where the carpet touches Eddie; tries to put himself between the fabric and Eddie’s skin. Kisses slow, gentle, tender. Kisses likes he’s trying to erase everything bad that came before. Kisses like he’s trying to be the first. “Steve,” Eddie murmurs against his lips. “You’re my girl,” Steve replies, nonsensical, using every muscle in his body to steady Eddie’s trembling. He kisses the corners of his mouth and Eddie makes a sound that lodges itself in the chambers of Steve’s heart. “You’re my girl.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things #my fanfic

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the-scandalorian · 10 months

Text

Mine

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader Rating: Explicit, 18+ Word Count: 4k Content Warnings: anal, ass play, rimming and oral (f-receiving), spit as lube, threatened violence against the reader (not by Joel), canon-typical violence Notes: Endless gratitude to both @frannyzooey and @oscarseyebrow for the help, literally would not have finished this without you two gems xx

He wants it—has wanted it.

He wants the claim. The utter possession.

Whenever he puts you on your hands and knees, Joel settles a splayed hand on your lower back, and it always slips down, his rough palm sliding further and further the more he loses himself in the pleasure. It drops along with the register of his groans and the steady slap of his hips. He lets his hand shift until his thumb is tucked between your cheeks. And when he’s grunting low and deep, about to pull out so he can come—so he can paint himself in warm streaks across your skin—he’ll press the pad of that finger firmly against your asshole.

Not inside, not yet. He doesn’t go further than that.

He’s waiting for you to say it. He wants to hear those words, begged so pretty and desperate in your breathy whine. He wants you to plead for it when you can’t wait any more.

He wants you to tell him to fill you in the way he can’t—won’t—risk with your pussy.

He wants you to ask him to make you his.

He dreams about it.

Please, Joel.

*** You’ve been waiting for him to say something—to act on it. You know he wants it.

You’re used to Joel taking what he wants. Never forcefully, not with you. You revel in the privilege of being a singular exception in that way—in being the one type of relationship left for him that isn’t ruled by violence. When he wants something from you, he doesn’t hesitate or hedge or waver. He just says it, lays it out.

Like that first time so many months ago when he fixed those serious brown eyes on you—on you—and said, “Come home with me.”

A statement, not a question. An invitation for you to take or leave.

Take.

This, for some reason, seems different though.

He’s waiting on you to ask for it.

It’s not some groundbreaking thing that precipitates it. What happens is wearily commonplace in the QZ.

A stupid kid, some nineteen year old with the power trip of a pistol in his hand, gets the jump on you. You’re alone, and he sneaks up behind you in an alley.

The cold barrel is pressed to your temple before you can react.

“Stay quiet,” he breathes, his hot breath reeking of alcohol next to your ear. It has the heady bite of too much ethanol, something he made cheap and easy.

You do mental calculations as he walks you to a brick wall, crowding you up against it until your cheek is pressed to the cool, rough surface. A groping hand reaches into your jacket pocket. He just wants your ration cards, and it’s probably easiest to let him take them and turn tail.

But then he steps back, the steel of the gun moving to press between your shoulder blades, and you can feel the rake of his eyes down your body.

“Well, you’re pretty, aren’t you?”

Your gut fills with lead. The air in your lungs tightens as his intentions shift. You’re about to move, to reach for the switchblade in your inner pocket when there’s a yelp—the pressure of the gun disappearing from your back—the scuffling feet on asphalt and a low grunt—

You turn, and Joel has the guy hauled up against a half-collapsed chain-link fence, his cheek pressed into a tangled coil of barbed wire. He disarmed him in the same movement, the butt of the pistol visible over the waistband of Joel’s jeans, holstered at his lower back.

Joel, who had come looking for you when you ran late.

He seems perfectly calm when he meets your gaze, but you know the tightness in his shoulders, that muted threat in his blown pupils. He’s agitated. Uneasy. Mad at himself that you were alone. You catch it when his eyes flick down and up again, surveying your body for injury.

“Yes or no?” he asks.

You consider for a moment, appreciating the raw fear in the young guy’s eyes—how quickly Joel turned him from a predator to a shifty-eyed, skittery little rabbit. His breathing is a shallow, frantic pant.

“No,” you decide.

Joel nods and shoves him away, and the kid stumbles. When he glances back over his shoulder, you can see fat tears of blood oozing from the shallow cuts below his eye. He’s too shocked to speak, to do anything. He just staggers into a run and disappears.

Your eyes slide back to Joel, and something clicks into place as you watch each other—you realize just how utterly and completely he has you. That he’d burn the world for you if you asked. And you’d do the same for him.

He approaches you with quiet steps. A warm hand settles on your waist.

“Alright?” he asks, looking down at you, his thumb stroking the cotton of your shirt.

Tension is a precarious, taut thing between you, like a spring-loaded trap ready to bite.

You nod and say, “Take me home.”

*** His apartment is flooded with afternoon sun. Golden beams of light streaming in between the half-closed curtains are shot with suspended motes of dust. Everything always feels still within these walls, like he really can shut out the rest of the world when he closes the heavy door behind him.

He’s on you as soon as he does, his hand coming up to cup your cheek and his mouth on yours as he guides you backward toward the bed.

You both need the reassurance of touch.

You need more than that: you want him to accept the control you're offering with willing hands and take.

As you move together, you let the lingering hum of adrenaline in your bloodstream pull the words—the ones that might have otherwise gotten stuck in your throat—out of your mouth.

You whisper against his lips: “I want you to fuck my ass.”

He goes rigid for a moment, his breath a pant against your lips, and then he dips his head to your ear.

His voice is something else entirely now—no more veiled fear behind his rasp, just a honeyed growl of pure desire: “Say it again.”

You bury your face against the hollow of his throat and smile.

“Go on, I want to hear it.”

You squirm and slip a hand into the back pocket of his jeans.

“Be a good girl and say it for me,” he prods, dragging the tip of his nose up your cheek. He slips his hand down your back and over the swell of your ass, pulling your hips forward into his, and squeezes.

You give him what he wants, what you both want: “I want you to fuck my ass.”

He hums his approval and takes a long, slow inhale to savor the thought of it. He’s just as pleased as you’d hoped he’d be. More, maybe.

He moves his hand inward, tracing the middle seam of your jeans with a light touch.

“That right? You gonna let me in here?”

His voice is smug, a cocky drawl, but when you look up into his eyes, there’s a hint of desperation skulking behind his dilated pupils, like he’s not quite sure what he’d do if you said no. Like he needs you to want it.

“I know you want it,” he says, his breath hitching. He tries to convince you, even though you are already won—were won, long ago. “I feel the way you press back against me, just begging for it—I see how quick you come on my cock when I touch you right here.”

You press a kiss to the taut lines of his neck. He’s right.

He slips his hand down the back of your thigh and hitches your leg up, rolling his hips against you. Once.

“You gonna let me come inside your tight little ass?”

Twice.

You lean away to brush a hand over his crotch, over his fly where you can feel the thick roll of him straining against the denim, and nod up at him. Joel’s gaze is barbed with desire, with a heat so tangible it burns.

*** He lays you out on his bed, strips you bare, and kneels over you. His shirt is quickly discarded on the floor, his belt buckle left open. His lips pull to the side in a casual smile as he looks down at you—surveying the luxurious lines of your body on display for him—but there’s a feral glint of need in his dark eyes as he settles into a familiar position over you, his hips caught between your spread thighs.

You reach up to run a hand through his silver-flecked hair.

Joel sucks two of his fingers into his mouth, and when he pulls them out, he leans down to kiss you just as he slips those two shiny, spit-soaked fingers down between your thighs, past where he usually settles them, until he finds that tight ring of muscle. He groans at first contact, pressing lightly, testing the resistance.

He’s eager. Getting right to it. Your body is tense with the newness of it—with anticipation, with want—but you know he won’t rush it. You trust him to set the pace.

“Relax for me, honey,” he murmurs against your lips.

The low, husky twang in his command is like a sedative. In and outside his bedroom. It’s easy to surrender to someone who never lets you down—to someone who protects you with bared teeth, white knuckles, and no quarter.

His mouth claims yours again, his tongue dipping past your teeth. Joel asks for a lot when he kisses you—always has. He takes a lot. It’s deep and needy. Possessive. The scratch of his facial hair against your skin is familiar, the smell of him overwhelming when he’s so close.

Clean laundry, warm sun, a light hint of sweat from working outside. Joel.

He kisses down your neck with an open mouth, cloying and distracting, as he massages his wet fingers over your asshole.

He teases. Pets. Coaxes. All the while, his mouth does the same—on your throat, your chest, your breasts. Hungry and wanting. Joel moves at a leisurely pace, dropping himself down to nip at your ear lobe, pinching and rolling your nipple with his other fingers.

He’s working you up, making you ask for it, and it’s effective.

When you start to writhe and whine, he finally shuffles down your body and takes up his rightful place with his head between your splayed thighs.

Joel watches you when he goes down on you, his eyes flicking up to your face and back down to where you’re aching for him—constantly. Always assessing. Studying. Devouring. Gauging how hard or how easy to push you.

He spreads you open and dips his head to lick your clit with the broad sweep of his tongue, taking you apart as he works you open. He’s well-practiced in the art of dismantling you.

He gradually increases the pressure—of his tongue and his finger—ratcheting up the pleasure, until your legs are shaking around his ears. Until one of your hands is fisted in his short, thick hair. Until you’re canting your hips up and up and up to fuck yourself against his face.

You drag your arm over your eyes, overcome—

Joel looks up—his hot mouth leaving you cold—and tsks, pulling your arm away from your face. “Let me see you.”

His lips shine with your arousal.

Your stalled pleasure has your mouth dropped open, but Joel resumes the steady sweep of his tongue and the firm press of his nose against your mound right away, catching you midair and dragging you right back to the brink of an orgasm. Your heels slip down the sheets, your head pressing back into the pillow as you moan and ride it out.

Joel grunts when he feels it, when it spreads through your veins like lightning.

You meet his eyes as you pant through the aftermath—his brow is creased deeply, his lips parted just a little when he pulls away, his breath barely audible—and while you’re mellow and unwound, he presses his finger inside. He squeezes his eyes shut against the pleasure, reveling in the warm pull of your body, and you arch. A heavy hand settles on your chest.

“Easy,” he says, his voice low, “easy now.”

He waits for your muscles to relax, for you to give him an encouraging nod, and he works that finger a little deeper in your ass, thrusting it shallowly. He can feel your body responding to it—acclimating to, asking for it.

“Turn over for me,” he says, his voice even gruffer than normal. “Get on your hands and knees so I can see it.”

You flip for him, situating yourself on your elbows. The bed creaks as he slips off it behind you. There’s the metal sound of a zipper and the rustle of denim, and then the mattress dips again as he settles behind you.

He leans down to purse his lips and spit. It drips, warm and wet as it slides between your cheeks, and he catches it with two fingers, smearing it over where he’s started working you open, where you feel warm and ready for him, inviting—where you glisten with it. You expect him to press one inside you again, but instead, he leans down and his tongue takes it place.

Your hips jerk forward reflexively at the foreign feeling, at the press of the wet muscle against sensitive skin, but as soon as your mind catches up, you shift back to chase the sensation, that warm, slick slide—the welcoming heat of his mouth. A series of sloppy kisses, wet and open.

Joel’s hands spread you as he tastes you. He licks and laps, his tongue exploring every inch of your puckered rim, and the feeling unfurls over your skin slowly—hot and syrupy and decadent—dispatching a delayed shiver down your spine. The pleasure crackles and spits, your nerves a circuit of live wires.

You moan into the feeling, letting your body arch, and shove yourself against the fervor of his mouth. You wonder why you didn’t ask him—beg him—for this sooner.

It’s brief. He wants to stay there—you can tell by the low sound he makes against your body, the sound that deepens when you push back against his mouth, so deep it vibrates—but he’s impatient.

Impatient to be inside you.

He spits again, another rush of warmth, and pulls away to say: “Touch yourself, honey.”

You obey, settling a cheek on his pillow, one hand between your legs. His first finger returns. A second one joins it, and you whine at the stretch when he edges them inside.

“I know—I know it’s tight, baby.”

He soothes you with a heavy hand on your back, rubbing it up and down your spine reassuringly.

“I got you.”

He spits one more time, a generous, wet lubricant for his thrusting fingers. He collects the moisture and presses them deep.

You can feel his lips on the back of your thigh, his tongue and the scrape of his teeth. He moves up, working his mouth gently over the curve of your cheek. His hand smooths over your hip, the other working his fingers deeper in a slow rhythm, the movements careful and fluid. He won’t give you more than you can handle.

You feel full with just his fingers moving inside you, but when you start to move your own fingers over your clit, you find that the fullness feels good.

He answers your pleased sounds: curling and stroking you from the inside out. His fingers scissor and stretch.

His other hand leaves your body, and you can hear him fisting his cock behind you—pausing to spit into his waiting palm and slick it over himself. You know exactly what that looks like, the storm of desire brewing in his dark eyes and the roll of his muscular shoulder as he pumps himself. A pearl of precum likely glistens along his slit, disappearing as his shaft is swallowed by the circle of his fist.

The image of him, one you’ve seen countless times, never fails to arouse you.

The command, the intention—the intoxicating need.

In the beginning, you had to look away from it. It was too naked, too vulnerable—it was the only time Joel would drop the front and let himself be more than just leashed rage. The only time he’d cut the tether and let himself want what he wants—let it show on his face, stark as day.

Now, you live for it. You recognize it for the rare, precious gift it is.

You can’t help but peer over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of that furrowed brow and taut neck. That is the Joel who loves with his whole chest. Who loves with teeth.

He looks up from where his hand is moving to meet your gaze. He eases those two fingers out of you, and you whimper at the loss.

He moves closer behind you, his broad frame looming tall over you, and settles. Your legs are spread as wide as they go in this position, his bracketed between them.

“I’ll go slow, yeah?”

You press your cheek back into the pillow and breathe.

You can feel the fat head of him notched against you, the heat and the slickness, where you’re drenched and shiny. He drops his hips and rubs the tip up and down, once and again. The anticipation—the knowledge of his size—has you tensing, but he pets your hips and talks you through it.

“Relax and let me in.”

Joel eases his hips forward, and as much as he’s prepared you, as much as he’s coaxed your body open to accommodate his fingers, the stretch of him still burns. He’s been so careful, taken such good care of you, but the size of him aches. You can’t help but squirm, a whine spilling from your lips, as he enters you.

He reacts to your hesitation right away.

“Drop your hips for me,” he says, a heavy hand on your lower back.

He guides you down, and you all but collapse, almost prone on the mattress. He blankets your body with his own, his warm chest and the softness of his belly flush against your back, and reaches around you, snaking a hand into the few inches of space between your hips and the bed, to massage your clit with the pacifying rock of one finger—to where your hand had been a second ago, before it dropped away to fist in the sheets.

He’s heavy draped over you, his body a grounding weight. If it weren’t him—if you didn’t have that steel-cast trust between you, it might feel smothering. This prostrate position, vulnerable.

Instead, safe.

He breathes hot and slow down the side of your neck then sets his teeth against your shoulder, a blunt bite—not hard enough to hurt but hard enough to mute all other sensation, just a little.

He’s giving you something to hold on to.

He murmurs praise between light, plush kisses and little nips, as the blunt tip of his cock slowly—so slowly—breaches the tight ring of your ass.

You key into the words—honey, baby, sweetheart—and the hot trail of his mouth. And breathe, slow and steady, to let your body welcome him deep.

When his hips are cradling your cheeks, he stills.

You’re full; you’re so fucking full.

It’s almost unbearable in sensation. The thick, rigid length of him is throbbing inside you. You need—you need something—

Your thoughts are slow, eddying and pinwheeling like curls of smoke that refuse to coalesce into something tangible.

His finger is still pressed tight to your clit, and as you settle together, you adjust. A realization creeps up the back of your neck, shy. Move, you think, the link between your brain and your mouth suddenly faulty. You need him to move.

You arch and start to shift back into him, to encourage him to fuck you.

Joel growls in your ear, the hand between your legs jumping to your throat. “Stay still for me. Just—stay still, alright? Let me—”

You tense with the effort of it, all of your muscles tightening, contracting around the thick intrusion of him, and his words are cut short by a low groan and the subtle flex of his hips forward. The movement draws a whimper from your throat—a pleased sound.

It’s taking all his control not to move, not to thrust into the tight, molten clench of your body.

“Let me—let me just feel you like this for a minute,” he finishes. His voice cracks with the effort of staying still. The hand caught around your throat trembles and tightens.

He’s savoring it. Savoring you.

And trying not to let the exquisite grip of your body undo him too soon. It’s dizzying, knowing that.

He shifts back a bit, braced on a locked elbow by your side, so he can see where he’s splitting you open, and runs a reverent hand along your curves, up your thigh and over your hip—a rough, calloused palm turned tender in the moment. His breathing is labored.

You peer at him over your shoulder, your neck straining. His mouth is dropped open, his tongue peeking out between his lips, and his eyes are hooded. They flick down to meet yours.

Understanding passes between you.

He drops himself over you again, and his hand finds a home on your shoulder, holding fast. Then he eases his hips back, gently withdrawing before starting up a slow cadence. Testing.

You moan when he thrusts forward, and his own low sound matches yours. His hips start to move faster, his thighs colliding with the backs of yours.

“You gonna come with my cock in your ass?”

You nod against the fabric of his pillow case, your hand returning to the apex of your thighs. It doesn’t take much—a few moments of gentle fingers passing over your aching clit, and all of your muscles are tightening.

“Fuck, yes,” he growls. “Let me feel it.”

His rhythm kicks up to a rapid slap slap slap of skin against skin, as you spasm and quiver against the bed, your open, panting mouth leaving a wet spot on the cotton. You clench around the crowded feeling of him until your brain is fuzzy with a haze of pleasure. Until your limbs go completely slack.

“You’re taking it so good for me. So fuckin’ tight.”

You feel sated and warm in the aftermath, your body fucked out and sluggish. You can tell Joel is close by the uneven staccato of his thrusts and the tightness in his voice.

“Oh fuck, baby,” he pants. “You’re gonna make me come—make me fill this tight little ass.”

You moan—waiting for it, wanting it.

But he wants to hear it first.

“Is that what you want? Hmm? Say it,” he demands, his words punctuated by the surge of his hips and the press of his thighs. “Tell me where you want me to come.”

You barely manage to get the words out, twisted in your raw throat—

“Please, Joel—inside.”

—before he does.

The sound he makes is low and feral, a gasp and a growl clawing their way out of his chest. He grinds himself deep into the tight heat of your body, his hips stuttering in sheer relief, and his cock twitches as he spills inside you. A flood of warmth, pulses of pearly cum fucked deep.

Again and again, until he’s spent.

He pulls out, leaving you empty. You know he wants to see it.

Sure enough, he thumbs between your cheeks, admiring the place where he’s marked you—feeling the sticky warmth of himself in your body. Like he’s always wanted to.

After a long moment, he collapses next to you on the bed and pulls you into his side.

“Come here,” he says, gathering you up in his arms. He presses a kiss to your forehead and swipes soft fingers over your cheek. You’re boneless in his hands.

He doesn’t say it, but you know.

Mine.

#my writing #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic

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cal-flakes · 9 months

Note

“he’ll never come near you again, i’ll make sure of it” with dealer!rafe

love ur work sm🤍

╰┈➤ prompt nineteen, dealer!rafe

warnings: sensitive content! mentions of a gun, domestic abuse (not from rafe) , threats to life, swearing.

“rafe!” she called breathlessly down the phone as her vision began to go foggy, blocked by tears and a lack of oxygen at the hands of her father. “he’s not here you fucking slut” he spat as he landed a cracking smack across her face. for a moment she began to lose hope, convincing herself that she may have dialled the wrong number as she heard nothing back before everything went dark.

seconds, minutes, maybe even hours go by before she came back around, suddenly up and alert at the commotion happening before her. despite her vision still blurry, the sounds and voices around her told her everything she needed to know. “don’t you ever, ever! lay a fuckin’ finger on her again, you hear me?” rafe’s seething voice yelled while an unfamiliar hand snaked around her, causing her to jump forward.

“hey, it’s just me lil’ lady, aight? we got you, c’mon..” barry drawled as he helped her to her feet before guiding her out of the house, at the last second her eyes cleared, exposing her to the nasty sight of rafe, holding a gun to her -now bloody- fathers forehead. “nah mamas’ don’t you be looking at that, you don’t wanna see that..” barry spoke again as he used his strength to help her father outside and into the car.

“please, just get rafe..” she croaked as she wiped her face with the back of her hand, noting the dried blood and tears now smeared across her skin. nodding, barry quickly buckled her in before dashing back inside, soon returning with a heaving rafe, jaw ticking away furiously.

sliding into the back seat, barry watched as rafe carefully entered the drivers side, cautious of spooking her with any sudden movements.

very few words were shared on the ride back to their home, the silence instead filled with sniffles and sighs while rafe’s bloodied hand rested on her thigh. upon arrival, both rafe and barry made an effort to get her inside as quickly as possible, careful not to knock into her and cause further pain.

“i’ll be back in a minute sweetheart, m’kay?” rafe cooed as he helped her out of her dishevelled clothes, tentatively replacing them with some comfortable pyjamas. his hardened features fell as she stared up at him from her spot in the bed, her eyes holding all the pain and suffering he couldn’t even begin to imagine. “please don’t leave..” she whimpered, desperately grasping at the last place that held his hands warmth as he pushed off from the bed.

sighing, he turned away quickly as tears brimmed along his waterline. “bare! bring some water up for me, alright man?” he called, accidentally startling her as she shrank further into the covers. “shit, m’sorry angel, barry’s bringing some water, you just get comfortable, m’kay?” he assured her, slipping into the bed beside her, pulling her head onto his chest gently.

“please don’t go anywhere..” she plead, tears falling silently from her eyes, wetting his already dirty shirt. “m’not going nowhere baby..” he sighed, squeezing her arm.

the pair waited in a comfortable quietness, the only sounds being her sobs while barry made his way up the stairs, water and painkillers in hand. “thanks man, you let yourself out yeah?”

exchanging nods of goodbye, rafe allowed himself to shuffle further under the covers as he cradled her head in his arms.

“he’ll never come near you again, i’ll make sure of it..”

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imtryingbuck · 1 month

Text

Forty Five

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: Bucky comes from a well respected family, he falls in love with a girl who prefers the simple things in life. Follow their journey through the years.

Word count: 1,483

Warnings: angst, heavy use of pet names. fluff. swearing. Domestic abuse mentioned. This one is short, im sorry.

A/N: No description of reader other than she has curly hair.

Masterlist Series Masterlist

‘Grace and Bunny’s Haven’

Each letter engraved in the bricks bold and proud on the administration building. Behind it stood the housing unit which looked more like a manor than anything. There was large fence that sounded the whole property, the gate opening for safety to those who needed it, right where her former home use to sit.

True to his word Bucky let Y/n bulldoze the remains of the house she spent her early childhood being tortured in. Surprisingly it was very therapeutic for her. The massive smile on her face when the remains went down made Bucky’s heart tingle.

In five years the woodland that once was a sanctuary for Y/n had been transformed into a sanctuary for women in need.

The manor had twenty bedrooms with the same amount of bathrooms, at the time of opening there was only ten available rooms as the rest were still being done up. A large and spacious kitchen, two large living rooms, a huge dining hall, a kids play room that had already been filled with books and toys that were either donated or brought new. There was a day room at the back that had a skylight, it was beautiful in the summer. Two rooms on the lower floor was to be used as counselling rooms Y/n had already hired councillors and actually let them have their say on how the rooms were decorated.

On the grounds there was a park for children with slides, swings, seesaws and other fun little things for children. Sam just had to go on the slides and swings to make sure they worked, so he said. On the other side there was a green house, it was something that her mama always said she wished she had.

Owners of furniture stores were kind enough to donate furniture for each of the rooms, people went through their homes finding things that could be donated when word got out about Grace and Bunny’s Haven, a lot of children things ranging from clothes, shoes, books and toys were mainly donated. A couple came with a moving van and gave Y/n cots for babies, pushchairs, highchairs and many other different things for babies, they explained that they use to run a day-care out of their home, they retried two years prior they no longer needed them. Y/n could have cried as she hugged them and thanked them.

The finishing touches were being done when a woman no older than twenty five showed up seeking safety with her two three year old twins. Charlotte became the first person to be under their protection.

The doors opened two days after Y/n’s forty fifth birthday and already five rooms were being used. Charlotte and her twins taking up one room seeking safety from her abusive ex boyfriend, Maryanne was in her mid-thirties and had a son who was seven years old. Carla had five children with her when she showed up covered in bruises, she and her youngest had a room together whilst the other four had the room next to hers. Robin was the youngest out of the women at nineteen, when Y/n heard her story it broke her heart, poor girl had gotten pregnant when she was seventeen two months before she gave birth her boyfriend had been killed in a car crash, hers and his family had turned their backs on her and the baby for over a year she bounced from one place to the next with her daughter until she found a flyer at the hotel she managed to save enough money to stay at for a few nights. The next day she showed up asking for help.

All of the children got along with each other, unknown to them they had actually broke the ice between their moms as none of them knew what to say to the other. Now the four women were friends and helped each other out when needed.

“I’m proud of you, you know that don’t you?” Bucky asked after handing Steve another box of things that had been donated.

“I couldn’t have done it without you Ducky”

“I didn’t do anything my love”

“You brought the land, got everything ready-slow down Luca or you’ll trip-” Luca was the second oldest of Carla’s, he was running past the administration building to go and play on the park with the other children.

“But you’re the one giving these women hope and safety, not me I’m just doing all the heavy lifting”

“Heavy lifting? Buck you keep picking up boxes full of clothes” Steve shouted from the storage room.

“Fuck off. Do you need me to do anything Bun?”

“Nope, actually you could help Steve we got a rather large donation in last night so”

“I can do that, gimme a kiss first”

Kissing Bucky before he went over the storage room, Y/n stood at the front desk with a smile on her face. Proud of how everything turned out, proud of the fact that she could help women who needed it. Every time the moms saw her they thanked her, every time, even though she told them that they didn’t need to thank her at all, they still did.

Wanda had come and brought the twins along with Y/n’s and Bucky’s children who were all currently playing tag with the other children, their laughs brought a smile to her face. When the gates came open and a police car drove up to the administration building, this wasn’t new as Maryanne and her son was brought to her in a police car, what was new though was that instead of a woman sitting in the back it was a man.

“Morning Mrs Barnes” Officer Jones greeted as he got out of the driver seat.

“Morning, who is he?”

“He needs safety and yes I know this is a place for women but he needs help, no one else is willing to take him in”

“Oh. Right well let’s get him in so I can interview him” Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed when he saw his wife walking in front of a man and two little kids and Officer Jones, he gave Y/n a questioning look that she just waved off.

Y/n offered a seat to the man and told the two young children play with the toys that were in the room whilst Officer Jones stood at the door. “Hi I’m Y/n, your name is?”

“Henry. Look I understand if you can’t take me in just say no so I can fin-“

“Who said I can’t take you in?”

“I’m a man”

“And? Just because you’re a man doesn’t mean anything. How about you give me the rundown of why you are looking for help and-“

“So you can judge me?”

“Why would I judge you?”

“Because I’m a man, a man that would get beat the shit out of him by his wife. The mother of his two kids, been put in hospital more times than I can recall, never once laid a hand on her. Never. I’m a man who’s now seeking help at a place that was made just for women, bet you think I’m weak don’t you?”

“You’re not weak because you married an abuser Henry. You’re not weak for coming here asking for help. You’re not weak at all so please do not think that about yourself”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry I-I-I didn’t mean to snap. I promise”

“It’s okay, Henry look at me, it’s okay I promise. How about you tell me about your babies, yeah?”

“My oldest is Robbie he’s five, youngest is Lucy she’s two”

“Five and two, how old are you?”

“Thirty three ma’am.”

“Have you filled for divorce?”

“Yes but she refuses to sign them”

“Okay, can you write down any allergies you and the kids have and any medication you or they need please?”

“W-what?”

“Allergies and medication…”

“No I understand that b-but are you really letting us stay here?”

“Of course I am, Grace and Bunny’s Haven is a safe place for everyone who’s victim of domestic abuse. A room is already set up for you, I’ll give you the tour when you are ready”

“Tha-thank you, thank you so much”

After giving Henry and his children a tour, she introduced him to the women who was understandably nervous but they trusted Y/n’s judgement, they knew that she wouldn’t bring a man into their sanctuary if he wasn’t trustworthy or had gone through what they had gone through themselves.

Getting home that night Y/n had a hot shower whilst Bucky got the children into bed, she was proud of what she had created and though she had some understanding of what these women and man was and had gone through it didn’t stop her from getting emotional thinking about the pain they went through.

Bucky held her tight that night as they slept.

Tags: @cjand10 @unaxv @mcira @bisexualnikkisixx @kneelforloki @kandis-mom @sagebarness @sandyruston @scott-loki-barnes @nikkivillar @saltedcoffeescotch @scentedharmonymiracle @examinarei @sarcastickiddo @sadboiabby @unholyhuntress @8crazy-freak8 @ijustneedpopcorn @moonbeampillgoth @imcinnamoons @elmo-1066 @violetwinterwidow01 @suz7days @adoredire @ozwriterchick @randomrosie01 @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @emerald-writes @justafangir1 @sibsteria @spencerreidisagorgman @sapphirebarnes @bruher @hawkinsavclub1983 @onlyonetifosi @parisadams @unabashedstarlightcrown @nash-dara @allofffmypeaches @loki-laufeyson68 @behindmygreyeyes @missvelvetsstuff @pigeonmama @lizslibrary @gloriouspurpose01 @gaya-is-weird-af

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anemptypuddingcup · 8 months

Text

Happy Birthday, Birthday Gal’!

お誕生日おめでとう！誕生日の女の子！

Luffy x Reader (Mari in this case- But it could be anyone)) Smut.

Wooo today is the day I turned nineteen, I’m falling into adulthood- It was a good day today and I’m starting off with a birthday self insert.

I made sure to make it a perspective of you reading as the reader while adding my own twist into it.

Contains: Just a Birthday fic full of soft smut writing- Luffy gifting Reader a relaxing night with him. Both Luffy and Reader wearing matching fluffy robes. Lots of kissing. Major hand kink- Sound or voice kink. Praise kink. Fingering. Oral (Reader receiving). Lotus. Soft sex.

“Happy birthday baby!~ M’gonna make ya feel s’good t’night!~”

“O-Oh Luffy~ You didn’t have to~ Y-You really didn’t have to..”

“But I want to, ya deserve it after workin’ s’hard f’yaself~”

A deep yet heavy blush dusted your cheeks as you stared down at Luffy, his pretty raven curls and his cute beady eyes staring at you as he peppers loving little kisses against your chest. “Y’such a good gal~ Ya worked s’hard…s’ya deserve somethin’ so special after s’long~” You mewl out softly as you pressed your hand against his head, a little pleasure-filled sigh leaving your lips as you felt his hands rub along the soft skin of your shoulders. You moan out shakily as the slight roughness of his chapped lips trails along from your chest and down to your breasts.

“S’Soft…Th’softest in th’world~” He whispers out to you, his voice making you shudder with delight and arousal as his fingers pressed lovingly against your skin. He slowly pulls your pretty golden-yellow robe open, and sighs loving as he sees your breasts sitting there and peeking at him. He giggles softly as lays his head against your chest. “Th’fluffy lil’ robe looks s’cute on ya~ Ya like it?” He asked you, tilting his head to you. You smile softly to him and nod your head. “I love it Luffy, it’s..so soft and comfy~” You smile to him while you comb your fingers through his curls.

A sudden gasp leaves your throat as you felt feel his rough hands move to your breasts.

“L-Luffy…” You mewl out his name softly as you felt his hands press against your breasts and grope them softly. “M’hands feel good? Y’like ‘em against ya skin like this?~” Luffy whispered once again, teasing you as he pinches your softened buds with delicacy. You let out another sudden gasp as you feel him roll his fingers along your areola, making you shiver from the sensitivity.

“A-Ah!~ L-Luffy~” You mewl out his name shakily as you pull him closer to your chest, the feeling of his lips curling up into a smile against your skin. You moan out suddenly as you felt the warmth of his tongue slide along your nipple, his lips suckling on them softly as he tried his best not to make it feel a bit painful. You feel his other hand trail down your thighs and grip the hem of your panties, slowly pulling them down while he continues to suckle on your nipple.

As he pulled your panties off, he softly sets them onto the floor before his mouth pulls away from your nipple with a string of saliva attached. He pulls your legs up onto his shoulders, smirking as he licked his lips softly. “Wanna taste ya, this sweet pussy I’ve been waitin’ for after s’longggg~” He coos, pressing two digits against your bare cunt. You blush deeply and mewl out suddenly as you felt his rough fingertips trail along your slit.

“Want me t’eat ya up?~ Wanna feel m’tongue against ya cute lil’ pussy?~” Luffy asked you, staring deep into your eyes. You trembled at his tone and sighed out shakily, a little whine falling after. “Y-Yes…Please..” You say shakily to him. “Hmm? Cmon baby ya gotta say it louder if ya wan’ me t’help ya~” Luffy whisper to you, teasing you. You shudder against him and mewl out softly. “P-Please Luffy~ I-I wanna feel your tongue against me~” You sigh out a bit more confidently.

“Good gal~ Good good gal~” He praises you, pressing a sweet smooch to your little strands below. You gasp out softly as you feel his hand slide along your skin, his other hand teasing your slit and sliding his digits against your sweet hole. He suckles on his fingers a bit before pulling them from his lips and pressing them against your slit adding a bit of lubricant for easy insertion.

He smooches your clit and slide his tongue along the sensitive pearl while slowly sliding his fingers into your entrance. “Mmgh~ T-That feels good L-Luffy~” You mewl out to him, your hand pressed up against his cheek. Your hand moves from his curls and down to his face, your thumb running along his eye scar as he continues to kiss and smooch at your cunt. His tongue swirling around your clit lovingly as he enjoys the feeling of your soft hand against his cheek. He chuckles through the kisses while he begins to thrust his digits far into your entrance, making you moan out from the sudden kiss against your g-spot.

“Mmh!!~ Y-Yes right there!~” You gasp out, your brows furrowing from the sudden pleasure that you were feeling. He peeks his eyes up at you and giggles as he curls his fingers up inside of you. “Takin’ m’fingers s’good ain’t ya baby?~ Ya takin’ them so well~” Luffy praises you, brushing his tongue along your clit. Your legs trembled against his shoulders as your face scrunches up and you gasp out once again while you run your fingers back through his curls.

“Ah!~ A-Ahh!~ L-Luffy, I feel l-like cumming!~” You mewl out and arch your back, your hand pulling away from his head and up to your eyes. “Cmon~ Be a good gal and cream on m’tongue~ Ya know it’ll feel s’good if ya do~” He whispers to you, urging you to cum and cream on his tongue. You sigh out shakily as your toes begin to curl. “A-A little faster p-please!~” You gasp out to him, biting your lower lip from the pleasure.

Luffy smiles before obeying, his fingers going at a quicker pace as he urges you to cream onto his fingers. Pulling his fingers from your cunt causes you to whine out in displeasure but that was quickly replaced with pleasurable moans as Luffy stuffs his tongue past your entrance. “Ah! L-Luffy!” You gasp out a bit loudly, his rough hands gripping your hips and pulling your farther against his tongue.

You whine and mewl out and your sounds grows more shaky yet louder as your walls tightens around his tongue. Your legs shudders against his shoulders as you feel yourself finally ready to release into his tongue. Moving a hand from your hip he grabs your hand and intertwines his fingers with yours, his eyes looking up into yours with a lust and love-filled gaze.

You whine and gasp out suddenly, shutting your eyes tightly as you finally feel yourself loosen up on Luffy’s tongue. “Hah!~ MMH~ L-L-LUFFY!~” You trembled as your sweet little moans spills from your lips, your sweet essence coating his tongue and causing him to hum out in pleasure. Your mewls grew shakier while your body shuddered from your orgasm and Luffy still held on tight to your hand. Removing his tongue from your cunt, he giggles and licks his lips as he savors in the sugary taste of your essence.

“S’Sweet~ S’tasty ain’t ya baby?~” He hums happily before removing your legs from his shoulders. You hum shakily yet softly as he presses one more kiss to your lower tummy before finally getting back up to his knees. He softly cups your face and pulls you in for a sweet kiss, a little moan leaving you as you tasted a bit of yourself on his tongue.

“Shishishi~ Ya as sweet as frostin’~” He jokes, a little giggle falling after.

He grips his fluffy robe and pulls it open, revealing his toned and tanned body to you. He hissed out slightly as the robe rubs along his tip, making him shudder suddenly from the sensitivity. Your face was still flushed due to your orgasm and you could only lay there and take deep breathes while admiring Luffy’s body. He tilts his head before giggling out to you, his hand slowly trailing to your robe. “Like whatcha see baby?~” He asks you teasingly.

“I’ll always love what I see Luffy…” You answer him, your arms wrapping around his torso before you press a smooch to his scar along his chest. He gives you a wide smile before pulling your robe open even more, practically pulling it off of your body yet not all the way.

He sits down onto the mattress before pulling your into his lap, his cock throbbing up against your sticky slit. You wrap your arms around his neck before pressing a kiss to his chapped lips, a few soft moans leaving you both as you indulged in each other’s tastes. Luffy pulls your body closer to him, your back arching as he smushed his lips farther against yours.

He slowly slides his tongue past your lips fand dominates you pretty quickly, making you mewl out of how quick his pace was. Pulling back, you both take a deep breath before he bucks up against your hips. You hear him groan out impatiently as he stares into your eyes. “Ya don’ have to do anything’. Jus’ relax and lemme do all the movin’ kay?” Luffy whispers to you, his voice only turning you on a bit more than he already does himself.

“O-Okay L-Luffy~” You sigh shakily, looking deep into his eyes. He smiles before hovering your hips over his length, his tip practically rubbing and smooching your entrance. You breathe out shakily as he slowly sinks your onto his length, letting out a little hiss as he felt your walls cling tightly around his shaft. “L-Luffy~” You mewl out his name as you gripped his robe tightly, trying his best to give you time before he began to move.

“Ya feel s’good, y’know that right?” He whispers to you, making you shiver from his warm breath against your ear. You moan out softly while he begins to move your hips, his fingers practically digging deep into your skin while he thrusted up into you. He stares into your pretty eyes and admired how your face contorted from his cock thrusting in and out of you slowly.

For someone who rarely had the patience when it came to sex, he surely too his time and went at a steady pace just for you. “Can ya feel me? Can ya feel all of m’cock deep inside ya?~” He asked you, your sweet moans practically music to his ears. “M-Mhmm~ I-It feels so g-good Luffy~ This feel so- s-so wonderful~” You gasp out before arching your back so suddenly, the sudden kiss of his tip against your g-spot making you whine out so suddenly.

“Shishishi~ Look at ya, enjoyin’ my dick~ Ya practically meltin’ in m’hands. Ain’t ya baby gal?~” He whispers before nipping at your ear, making you moan out. You grip his robe softly as your hips began to move on their own, his length massaging your walls and causing to spill your voice out a little more. You hear Luffy let out a little shaky moan as he hears your moan angelically. “S-So good~ F-Feels so good Luffy~” You sigh out, your eyes staring deep into his.

“Ya voice s’cute~ Ya sound s’good when ya moan out like that baby~” He compliments, his hands moving down to grope the fat of your ass. “Cmon~ Make s’more noise f’me like my good lil’ gal~” He demanded, his praise only making you blush and tighten around him. He hissed as he felt your clench tightly around him. “Ohh ya got tighter~ Ya lovin’ that praise baby? Y’love it when I praise ya?~” Luffy presses smooches against your ear, teasing your and turning on. Your body burns up from his affection, the feeling of his lips against your ear made your heart pound and your pussy pulsate even more around his length.

“H-Hahh Luffyyy~ P-Please g-go harder~” You begged him, arching your back and hoping that he’d hit that spot just right. “As ya wish~” He says softly, pulling your hips farther onto his length and making you gasp out so suddenly. You gripped his shoulders tightly as he pounds up into you, the sound of your cunt fluttering around him making you blush even more.

“Ahhh~ Oh L-Luffy~ Mmh~ T-This feels so fucking goood~” You mewl out into his ear as he held on tight to your hips, his fingers practically leaving imprints into your hips. He groans out softly with each thrust, a few gasps leaving him as he pulls your hips farther against his. Your toes begin to curl while you wrap your legs around his hips tightly. “Ohh~ O-Oh fuck Luffy!~” You gasp out as you melt on his dick while he churned up your insides so wonderfully.

“Fuck baby~ Keep moanin’ like that, I wancha ta keep moanin’ just like that~” He groans out, his brows beginning to furrow while he bites his bottom lip from your sweet insides sucking him in. A few tears begin to prick at your eyes as you felt your orgasm growing closer, your head falling back while he fucked into you with loving ferocity. “Oh my god~ O-Oh m’goddd~” You whine out to him as you felt yourself wanting to cum, his cock making you want to burst and gush all over him.

“Ya s’fuckin cute baby~ Ya so fuckin’ cute when ya lose yaself on my dick like this~” Luffy smiles, laying his head up against your breasts while he trailed his hands up to your back. “F-Fuck Luffy~ I-It feels too fucking g-good! I-I can’t h-hold it in much l-longer!~” You gasp out loudly and your hands flies up to his head, pulling his face farther into your breasts as you felt yourself ready to cum.

Luffy continues to groan out, his groans growing a bit more heavy yet desperate as he chased after both of your highs. He unconsciously presses sloppy smooches against your breasts, making you whine out and grip his curls softly. “Luffy! L-Luffy! Luffy I-I’m gonna cum!~” You moan out a bit louder as you felt your orgasm ready to burst through, the feeling of his lips against your soft and sensitive mounds making you whine and whimper out more.

“Cum on m’fuckin’ dick baby! I wancha t’cum s’hard for me!~” Luffy groans out to you, a bit unable to keep his orgasm in any longer either. You moan out shakily and begin to squirm around a bit as you finally felt yourself reaching your peak. “Oh! O-OH L-LUFFY!~” You moan out Luffy’s name loudly and held his head tightly in your arms as you finally cream on his cock, your body shuddering heavily against his as you cream all over his length.

He groans out happily and pulls you as close to him as he could with his arms, his cum spurting deep inside of your cunt while his nails scratch along your back. “Good girl~ Oh fuck ya such a good girlllll~” He moans out, pressing his lips against yours before moaning out. You mewled out against his lips as he gives you a few more thrusts before fully stopping, a heavy yet satisfying sigh leaving him as a wave of exhaustion quickly washes over him.

“Luffy~ K-Kiss me more p-please~” You whine out all needy with him quickly fulfilling your wish with his lip. He kisses you sloppily yet deeply while you both began to slowly bask in the afterglow of each others orgasms, your arms wrapping around his torso while he kissed you so lovingly.

God this was more than you could ask for on your birthday.

“Happy Mhh~ Happy Birthday baby gal~” He moans through the smooches before finally pulling back. You pout to him before a few tears began to spill from your eyes and he laughs nervously. “W-Why’re ya cryin’ babyyy?” He asked a bit worriedly, still pressing smooches along your neck to soothe you. “I-It felt so g-good…T-Thank you Luffy…” You sniveled, hugging him tightly and pulling him as close to your body as you could.

“Of course baby, this is only th’beginnin’ thoughhh~ That was just a first rounddd~” He giggles to you, pressing another smooch against your soft skin. “We still got more ta go~ We can go as long as ya want us ta go~” He whispers to you, kissing your tears away. Your walls tightens around him as you hear him say so, making him groan out a bit suddenly.

“I-I want to go a-again…Please let’s do it again Luffy~”

“As ya wish baby gal~ Anythin’ my birthday gal wants~”

#9/14!#IT’S MY BIRTHDAY!#MARI’S BIRTHDAY FIC!#one piece #one piece smut #one piece fluff #op smut #op fluff #one piece x female reader #one piece luffy #op luffy #luffy smut #luffy fluff #luffy x reader #monkey d luffy #puddingcupfics

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