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therealcocoshady · 2 days

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Recovery - Chapter 39

Synopsis : Simon comes over for dinner and Reader makes a mistake.

Tags : angst

Author's Note : I want to take a second to thank my dear @shady-577 who has the role of Very Important Reader ❤️. I usually run my ideas by her and she kindly reads my stuff ! Thank you so much ❤️

Y/N’s POV

Your friends made you delete the social media apps from your phone, for your own good. In hindsight, you were grateful, because seeing everyone comment and bring back your photos was doing a number on your mental health. Another thing you were grateful for was the presence of everyone who took the time to check in with you. Everyone around you made sure to show their support, even Marshall’s close friends and his family. When they first called or visited, you half expected them to encourage you to talk to him and patch things up but they didn’t. Porter even suggested that you let him bask in it for a couple of days. They were truly disgusted by the track and it made you feel a little better. It didn’t really change anything - what was done was done - but at least you felt valid in your feelings.

The incident even prompted an unexpected reunion with none other than… Simon. Since the whole thing had gone viral, you weren’t surprised that he heard about it but you did not really expect him to call you. However, he did and he was really sweet. He showed support and even sent you a big bouquet of peonies to cheer you up, as soon as he learned that you were staying at Talia and Jamal’s. In fact, he called you practically everyday and made sure to get your mind off things. Every time you mentioned the incident, he encouraged you « not to think about it » and you had conversations about everything else. Back when you were first dating, you were impressed by the fact that he was very well-read, knowledgeable on a lot of topics. You spent at least an hour on the phone everyday, discussing politics, art, movies… what you enjoyed the most, though, was his humor and the fact that, even after all this time, you had a couple of inside jokes left. Talia saw what a breath of fresh air it was for you, and decided to extend a dinner invitation to him. She thought it would be good for you to socialize with someone you knew, that wasn’t a close friend or acquaintance of Marshall. Jamal wasn’t too keen on the idea, though. He had made his opinion of Simon quite clear in the past, and didn’t care for the way your ex had treated you, especially after the miscarriage. That being said, his fiancée didn’t give him too much of a choice on the matter and he ended up agreeing that, at least, it would be good to see you smile.

When you brought it up to Marshall over the phone, you could tell he wasn’t too happy. However, he was in no position to tell you who to hang out with, after what he had put you through.

Simon… Your ex, Simon ?! He asked.

My friend Simon, you said in an annoyed tone. He’s been cheering me up.

Ok, he sighed. So… when can I see you ? We need to talk.

I don’t know, you replied. I think we should talk but… I don’t think I want to see you.

There’s stuff I need you to see, he said. So that you… I don’t want to say you’ll understand but, yeah, i guess it’ll provide context.

I guess I’m intrigued, you admitted.

So… can I come and give it to you ? He asked tentatively.

I don’t think it’s safe for you to come, you said. If Talia sees you, she will lose her shit. So will Jamal. Can’t you just… e-mail it to me ?

I guess I can send it over, he said. Y/N, I… I miss you. So much. The cat misses you. Please come home. I need to see you. I need to talk to you, to-

It’ll depend on what you send, I guess, you cut him. I have to go. I have to get ready for dinner. Tell Wiz I love him.

Sure, he mumbled.

And hum… thanks for the public apology, I guess.

You hung up the phone before he could respond. At first, you had been willing to call him but as soon as you heard his tone, his ever so apologetic voice… you were back to feeling angry. He was the one who had betrayed you and you were not about to give in to his own pain. You missed him, though. In fact, every night, you cried yourself to sleep and hated yourself for wishing he was by your side. But you were even angrier at him for what he had done. You knew he would hate the idea of you having dinner with Simon. And perhaps, on some level, it was exactly why you had been so quick to accept, when Talia suggested to have him come over. After all, Simon had been here for you this week. He had been the one to make you smile, laugh and regain a sense of self. He was the one who did what any loving boyfriend should have done.

Dinner with Simon was fun. So much so that even Jamal laughed at his jokes and engaged in the conversation, in spite of his initial reluctance. No one spoke of the track that mentioned you, or pronounced Marshall’s name. It was just the four of you, talking about anything and everything, just like it had been, years ago. Talia and Jamal were your friends but they had always gotten along with Simon, for the most part, and you all shared some fun memories of your days in university. After dinner, Simon suggested the two of you go for a walk, after learning that you hadn’t really been out since the track leaked.

I don’t feel like being the laughingstock of the neighborhood, you pointed out.

It’s 9PM, there’s barely anyone out, he replied. And as long as you care about it, you’re not winning.

I guess we can go out, you sighed.

Talia seemed elated that you would finally go out. You went for a walk in some remote part of the neighborhood that had a small trail where people could go on walks. During the day, it was full of people who jogged or families with strollers. But at this time of the night, there was no one in sight. You walked in relative silence when Simon finally spoke.

I had a lovely evening, he commented. Talia’s cooking is even better than I remember.

She is quite skilled, you agreed. I had a great time too. Thank you for coming. And thank you again for reaching out.

You don’t deserve what you’re going through, he said. You deserve the world. Nothing less.

I doubt it, you sighed. I must have done something awful. If not in this life, a previous one.

No one deserves what he did to you, Simon insisted. You deserve love, respect, safety…

That’s what he gave me, you know ? You rambled. When I met him, after you broke up with me… Marshall became my safe space. He made me feel loved, seen, appreciated. He is the one who helped me overcome addiction… I thought I had found a good man.

You deserve to find one, he commented. You know… not a day goes by without me regretting what I’ve done to you. I should have been your safe space. I often wonder where we’d be if I had been there for you. If I had given you what you needed after you lost our baby…

Married with a kid on the way, perhaps ? You wondered aloud.

Boy or girl ? He asked.

A girl, I guess, you shrugged. I always wanted a little girl. And to call her…

… Emma, he recalled.

You remember ? You asked in surprise.

Of course I do, Simon said. I remember everything. You are impossible to forget. I’ve been on dates with ladies but none of them compare to you. No one ever will. I know that now.

Don’t say that, you said softly.

No, it’s true, he said. No one is as funny as you. No one is as smart, as caring, as loving as you are. That’s why I can’t find anyone else. And that’s why I can’t stand to know he hurt you like this. I’m fine with the idea of you being with another man, but knowing that he is not worthy of you… it’s driving me crazy. I want to beat him up.

You don’t have to defend my honor, you know ?

I know, he said. I guess I just… I wish to give you what you need. What you deserve.

That’s nice, you said shyly. Thank you, Simon. But I don’t think you could.

What do you need ? He asked as he looked at you.

I want to feel like myself again, you explained as you looked down. I want to feel loved and seen. But now… I feel dirty and ashamed.

Simon stopped walking and cupped your cheek, before coaxing your chin so that you’d look him in the eyes. His thumb stroked your cheek and you felt an oddly at peace. He was staring at you with an affectionate gaze.

You have nothing to be ashamed of, he said. And I’m here if you need anything.

Thank you, you whispered underneath your breath.

You stared at each other for a split second and you pressed your lips to his. Half of you hoped he would push you away and the other one hoped he would kiss you back. He did the latter, giving it his all. His lips were soft against yours and, for a split second, you didn’t feel as unworthy, as dirty or as ashamed. You could feel his affection for you, his desire, even. You wrapped your arms around his neck as his tongue found yours, the kiss growing passionate. It had been two years since the two of you last shared a kiss but you felt safe. It was comfortable, familiar. After your mouths parted ways, he grabbed your hand and looked at you.

I should walk you home, he said.

I’m sorry, you replied. I-I shouldn’t have…

I’m happy you kissed me, Y/N, he clarified. But something tells me that what you need is a friend, right now.

That’s right, you said. I’m mortified, Simon, really… that was wrong. I’m… with Marshall.

You are, he agreed. For now.

Yes, you said breathlessly.

You weren’t too sure of what you wanted. Ten seconds ago, you had wanted to kiss Simon. You wished you could play dumb and say it was an accident but it wasn’t. You had initiated this kiss. You had asked for it. Simon walked you home in relative silence and you were almost mortified. As minutes went by, you absolutely regretted kissing him. Because, regardless of how good and familiar it had felt, it was still cheating. And no matter how mad at Marshall you were, cheating on him broke your heart. Maybe somewhere deep down, you hoped that kissing your ex would erase your feelings for your boyfriend and that you wouldn’t see Marshall as the love of your life anymore. But this didn’t have the desired effect and it only felt more wrong. Once you reached the front door of Talia and Jamal’s house, he kissed your cheek and promised to call you soon on Talia’s phone. It was the only way people could reach you since you’d had the excellent idea of throwing your phone in the staircase after reading one more headline about Marshall’s track.

When you walked inside the house, your friends were waiting for you in the living room, with a big box sitting on top of the coffee table.

What’s that ? You asked.

It was delivered while you were gone, Talia explained. Marshall’s security dropped it off.

He… Sent my stuff ? You asked anxiously.

No idea, Jamal said. Might very well be yet another bouquet… As if the whole house wasn’t full of them already…

You anxiously opened the box. You expected to find your stuff, thinking that maybe he had interpreted your silence as a breakup. But instead, you found a bunch of CDs and stacks of paper, as well as an envelope that read « Open this before the rest. ». Inside, you found a letter, in Marshall’s perfect handwriting :

« Dear Y/N,

I sent over the stuff I wanted to show you. I figures that maybe it would be better if you got to go through it alone. In this box, you will find everything I have ever written about you since we met, as well as some letters I never sent while we were apart. I know it doesn’t change what happened with the track that leaked but I hope this will show you that you are always on my mind, always have been. When I wrote and recorded that silly track, I was sure you were going to leave and what you heard is my me venting on the microphone, letting my mid go to the darkest places, not because I actually think or mean everything but because it’s how I blow off steam. I know it doesn’t make the lyrics any more acceptable, but this is just me, being unable to get you off my mind for one second and trying to deal with it as best as I can. I never planned on you, nor anyone, hearing any of it. I realize this is not a healthy way to deal with my feelings, and I promise I’m never doing this again. Anyway, here is everything : things I wrote, stuff I recorded… I’m here if you want to talk about it.

I’m sorry I hurt you, more than you’ll ever know. I miss you. (Wiz misses you too).

Please come home.

I love you,

Marshall »

You sighed nervously and handed the letter to Talia, so that she could read it. Once she was done, she handed it to Jamal. After everyone was done reading the letter, you agreed that you should have a look to the content of the box. Your friends offered to give you some space but you were feeling a little overwhelmed. It was painfully obvious that your boyfriend was trying his best to make things bette with you and you had just repaid him by kissing your ex. You spent about three hours looking at every item the box contained. You got to read some letters Marshall had written to you while you were in France, that had your address on the envelope but he never sent them. I here, he was telling you about how much he missed you, how gloomy life was without you and how badly he wanted you to be happy, even if it meant that he would have to stay away from you. He also mentioned a couple of trips he had taken, mainly to California for some work, and how he wished he could have taken you on his travels. People, including himself, had told you how miserable he was while you were apart, but to read what he wrote during that time was gut-wrenching. There were so many writings that it was clear that you had not left his mind for a minute. Some of them even dated back to when you were dating Josh ! You were in tears by the time you were done reading the letters but the worst was yet to come. You listened to the CDs, that were full of tracks you never knew about. They were all about you and you could clearly see the pain in Marshall’s voice. By the time you were done listening, you were bawling like a baby.

Are you ok, Sis ? Jamal asked.

I… Guys, I… I don’t know, you hiccuped.

Come here, babe, Talia said as he took you in her arms.

You should call him, Jamal said. You guys need to talk.

You looked at him, taken aback. In the past days, Jamal had not exactly been secretive regarding the disdain he had for Marshall, and you definitely did not expect him to encourage you to patch things up with him. What you read and heard definitely made you want to see him and talk to him face to face, but you knowing what you had done earlier in the night made you sick. You couldn’t face him and tell him you had cheated on him. Not when you knew he had spent months writing the most gut-wrenching, heart-breaking things about his love for you, how being without you was a fate worse than death.

I don’t know, you said in a croaky voice.

Baby, I know we’re still mad at him, Talia said. But… You’ve heard these songs, right ? You’ve read these letters… Shit, I’m crying too !

She’s right, Jamal said. He loves you. He’s an obsessive fucking moron but… It’s Em. And I know you love him.

I thought you were mad at him, you pointed out.

I am, he said. But he sent me an email to apologize, as well as a check. He’s stupid but he’s trying to make things right. You have to give him a little credit, Sis. And I know that you guys have been through a lot and I’m sure you can work things out.

His last sentence has you burst in tears. After reading and listening to everything, you wanted nothing more than to « work things out », but you were afraid that you had ruined everything. How ironic. He was the one whose actions had led to you leaving the house but he would be the one breaking up with you because you were too dumb. Tears were streaming down your cheeks and you were crying so much that it made it difficult to breathe. It wasn’t just guilt or sadness, it was panic, as you realized you would have to tell Marshall what happened with Simon.

Baby, what’s wrong ? Talia asked as she stroked your back.

I… I fucked up, guys, you said.

What ? No ! Jamal said. What he did with that track sucked, you had every reason to leave for a few days !

No, it’s not that, you hiccuped. I-I… I kissed Simon…

NO YOU DIDN’T ?! Talia almost screamed.

You were virtually unable to stop crying, to the point where you were unable to form a coherent sentence and ended up hyperventilating. It felt like you had the weight of the world on top of you. Talia took you in her arms and tried to get you to calm down but you were having a full blown panic attack. You heard her talk to Jamal but, even though you could hear the words, they weren’t making much sense. You were trying to talk but only French words would come out of your mouth.

Il va me quitter, you cried. Je l’ai trahi… Oh mon Dieu. J’ai trahi Marshall !

What…? Jamal asked confused.

She’s having a meltdown, Talia sighed. We can’t leave her like this, babe !

What do we do, then ?

Let’s call Em, she directed.

Non ! You pleaded. Please… Non.

Talia took your hands in hers and tried to reason with you. In her opinion, it was better for you to tell Marshall and have an actual conversation with him, about both the track and you kissing Josh.

I fucked up, you cried. Oh my God. I fucked up.

Look, Sis, Jamal said sheepishly. Cheating sucks, and I’m not going to say Em deserved it. But… You know. You probably wouldn’t have done it if things had bee alright in your relationship.

True, your best friend chimed in. You were feeling betrayed and vulnerable.

He’s going to kill me, you sighed.

He’s not, Jamal said. Look, I already texted him. He should be here in about 20 minutes. We’ll let you guys talk but we’ll be right next door, in the kitchen, alright ? No matter how mad he is, I swear, you’ll be alright.

But… I’ll have to move, I-

If he kicks you out, you’ll just move back in with us, babe, Talia said reassuringly. We got you. Always.

You thanked them and tried to pace yourself by taking deep breaths. It was the middle of the night but it didn’t seem to matter to anyone. Twenty minutes later, Marshall was here. As soon as he spotted you, curled on the living room couch, reading one of his letters, he rushed to your side.

Y/N, he said.

Hi, you said as you tried to avoid his gaze.

Have you… Been crying ? He asked as he took a look at your face ?

You nodded sheepishly. Your stomach was in knots and you felt as if you were about to throw up. He was inches away from you, looking at you intently. You nervously glanced at him and it was safe to say that he looked absolutely terrible. From the looks of it, he had been missing on a lot of sleep. His face looked gaunt and had worry all over it.

Is it the letters ? He asked. God, I didn’t mean to make you cry… I-I…

They’re beautiful, you said in a creaky voice. A lot to take in. But beautiful.

And I meant every word, he assured you. These letters, these songs… that’s how I really feel about you. How I have always felt about you. Not that stupid leaked track.

Yeah ? You asked.

Swear to God, he said. That’s just… My mind goes to this dark place, sometimes, you know ? When I’m sad, when I’m hurt… I know it’s creepy as fuck, and I know it’s not… It’s not ok. I know it. But I swear, this is just fiction. No different than a book or some drawings, you know ? But it has nothing to do with you. It’s my feelings, my dark thoughts… None of it should matter.

But you name-dropped me, you pointed out.

I shouldn’t have, he said. That was fucking wrong of me. I thought no one would ever hear it. It’s just… that’s the only way I know how to get things off my chest, you know ?

You nodded. It hurt to be on the receiving end of it and to be the one who inspired such deranged lyrics but you could sort of see where he was coming from. After all, he had always resorted to music as a coping mechanism. He sat on the couch next to you and took your hand in his. The contact between you - the first in a week - almost made you shiver. He seemed to notice it and immediately placed his jacket on your shoulders.

I know it sounds easy to say but… I recorded that before I agreed to do therapy, you know ? He said tentatively. I went and told my therapist about it the other day, and… I’m going to do better, Y/N. I promise. I know I’ve hurt you, but I need you to know that I love you more than I have ever loved anyone. And I want us to get through this. I’ll book more therapy sessions, I’ll work on myself, we can do couples therapy if you want… I’ll do anything for us.

Marshall, I-, you began.

Y/N… You’re the love of my life, he continued. You make me want to improve myself, put in some actual work so that we can have a future together. There’s nothing I want more than this. I need you with me. I know we can get through this. I just know it. Because it’s us.

You were overwhelmed. You had told him he was the love of your life several times before but it was the first time he said it back. Tears started rolling on your cheeks and he pulled you to his chest.

I’ll never hurt you like this again, he said. I love you, and if you still love me, we can get through anything.

Marshall, I need to tell you something…, you started nervously.

Do you love me ? He asked as he ignored your sentence.

I do, you replied. Of course I do, but-

No but, he said. I swear, I’ll do anything you want, honey. I have already gotten rid of the studio equipment but if there’s anything I can do, anything you want… I’ll do it. Just come home, and we work things through, ok ?

I need to tell you something first, you said nervously.

Ok, he said as he still held your hand. Anything, baby.

It’s… It’s about Simon, you started with tears in your eyes.

What about him ? He asked. It’s not like you cheated, right ?

You knew he was resorting to humor to try and diffuse tension but you immediately started crying, giving everything away. You immediately saw the color drain from Marshall’s face, his eyes instantly turning dark.

#eminem #marshall mathers #slim shady #eminem fanfiction #recovery fanfiction #eminem fluff #marshall mathers x reader #eminem imagine #eminem x reader #marshall mathers imagine

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purple-babygirl · 3 months

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COOKIE ANON HERE 🍪 ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ DON'T CALL ME DADDY PART 3 WAS SO GOOD!!! AHHHH PURPLE I LOVE IT!!!

-🍪

OMG HIII💜💜💜 I can't believe you read it already I'm so happy rn:"💜 Thank you so so much, cookie anon you're too kind to me💜💜💜💜

#i love YOU #thank you for taking the time to send me such a sweet and encouraging ask #i appreciate and love you so much #🍪 nonnie #ily <3 #you're an angel #mwah mwah #purple answers #💜

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lovelettersfromluna · 2 months

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Wasted Summers

Summary: Yet another cliche store of a friends with benefits arrangement blossoming into something that is so much more.

an: this went from something that I wanted to make a Drabble about, to remembering an awesome request that someone sent in, to mixing them both?? To the sweet nony that sent this, I hope this lives up to your expectations of me, and I thank you (and everyone else) for trusting me with something you’d like to see written out! I tweaked a few things, so I hope that’s okay. The ending is sooo rushed on this bc I really wanted to get something out to you all as quickly as possible so I apologize! As always, I love you all so so much. (P.S chapter two of vampire!Ellie is on the way!)

Warnings: MDNI!!, 18+, smut, angst, Ellie is a giant fucking player and had no intentions of settling down (or does she? 😏), Ellie is extremely emotionally unavailable, scissoring, lots of making out, lots of pet names, reader catches a cold, mentions of headaches, medicine, and just your general cold symptoms tbh, please lmk if I missed anything!

You had only made the mistake of asking Ellie what you were to her one time in your friendship.

You couldn’t really help yourself either. She just looked so fucking pretty that night, praising you so well, saying all the right things. Could anyone really blame you for taking it the wrong way? Assuming that she was trying to send signals to you in the same way that you’d tried to send to her?

“Fuck…that’s it…always so fucking good for me, my good fucking girl” she panted out above you as she drilled her sopping wet pussy down onto yours, your head absolutely spinning with the feeling she gave you, the way your heart overflowed with the delicious feeling of euphoria.

You struggled to keep your eyes open, eyebrows furrowed as your fingers dug into the skin of Ellie’s thighs, your own legs trembling as you felt your orgasm growing closer and closer.

Ellie was quick to grab your cheeks, squishing them together and forcing you to form a pout as she tugged your face to look at her.

“No no no…look at me baby, keep your fucking eyes on me when you cum…that’s it…that’s a good girl” she groaned out through gritted teeth, always loving watching you struggle as you came undone at her doings.

“I’m…fuck Ellie��I’m…c-close” you stuttered out, back arching as your lips parted, glossy eyes staring up at the girl almost in awe as she drove you towards your third orgasm of the night, struggling to hang onto the very thin rope that was keeping you connected to this world.

She smirked down at you, giving you an encouraging nod as her tattooed hands gripped your thighs tightly, sure to leave marks in the morning.

“That’s my fuckin girl…come on baby…fuck…I’m…fuck!” She shouted out, her own back arching as her hips sputtered, her pussy gushing onto yours as she came hard with a strangled moan. The sound of her cumming alone was enough to make your own eyes flutter shut, hands flying down to your mattress as you gripped the sheets tightly, your knuckles aching as you screamed out Ellie’s name over and over again, tears threatening to spill out your eyes with the intensity of your orgasm.

“M-mm….fuck” you stuttered out, struggling to catch your breath as your naked chest rose and fell, trying to find a steady pace for yourself. Ellie gave a lazy chuckle as she stared down at you, her hand coming up to give your cheeks a quick squeeze.

“Did good for me princess..” she praised you, your heart swelling at her words.

Ellie’s words never failed to make your head spin.

She was quick to roll off of you, her back hitting your bed with a thud as she laid next to you, staring up at your ceiling as she tried to recollect herself.

And that’s what it usually was with you and Ellie. She’d come to your house, you guys would either play video games or watch a movie, she would get handsy and things would always end with her tugging you to your bedroom, either between your legs or on top of you. You loved every second of it, being with Ellie, feeling Ellie, it was all perfect all the time but…

You couldn’t help but want more.

Your heart felt empty every time she left, every time she jumped up from your bed, claiming that she either had to wake up early for work in the morning, or she had someone waiting for her in the city, leaving you alone in your apartment with nothing more than a quick squeeze on your hip, and the slamming of your door as she left. And maybe it was the fact that she didn’t immediately leave your bed that night that even prompted you to ask in the first place, a silent sign from the universe that this was your chance to understand where you stood with her.

“Ellie…” you called out her name softly, still staring at your ceiling before you turned on your side to look at her. She responded with a gentle hum, her arm bent and propped against the back of her head. Your heart is beating so fast now, staring at her pretty features, her profile was almost from that of a painting, or a sculpture. It made you wanna reach out and gently trace them, burning the feeling of her face into your memory.

You don’t realize you’re staring until she looks over at you, eyebrows furrowing for a minute before she gives a chuckle. “What? Do I have something on my face?” She questions, and you know she’s teasing you. You roll your eyes before giving her a soft, playful nudge.

A moment passes, and you’re simply staring at her, trying to find the words to say to her, how to properly ask her what you’ve been dying to ask her.

Her features soften, a soft pout on her lips as she turns to you more, her body facing yours entirely. “Hey…everything okay?” She asks gently, and her tone alone is making you want to pass out then and there, the care in her voice almost making you whine.

You take a deep inhale, before your mouth opens and you finally say it.

“What…what are we?” You mumble out, blinking a few times as you stare up at the girl, waiting for her to respond.

But it starts to feel like you’re waiting forever, because Ellie’s jaw goes slack as she stares at you with wide eyes, clearly shocked that you’d even think to ask her something like that. It puts your stomach in knots, and it makes you regret even asking in the first place, but before you can even retract fully, telling her some lame excuse about it being just a joke, or a dumb prank, she’s opening her mouth to respond.

“I…we’re friends…you know that, don’t you?” She asks carefully, eyeing you as if this should all be common knowledge to you, as if you’d always been on the same page to begin with.

You blink a few times at her, unable to respond to her or even agree with what she’s saying. You feel choked up, throat closing up as the inevitable tears threaten to spill past your cheeks, the girl of your dreams confirming that you two are in fact not on the same page.

“Don’t you?” She repeats, her voice growing worried as she stares down at you with her eyebrows furrowed, scared that she’s seeing things when she notices the way your eyes gloss over.

And it prompts you to quickly clear your throat, practically sucking the tears back into your body as you give her a quick nod, all while scooting away from her a bit. Because suddenly, it feels like Ellie is entirely too close to you in your bed.

“Yeah…yeah I do” you try to chirp out, putting on your best attempt at trying to sound like you weren’t completely dying inside.

Of course she can see right through it, the girl staring down at you wearily as she tries to read you. You almost hope she’ll speak up about it, comfort you and tell you that whatever you had going on was okay, and it was normal to not have a label on things.

But she doesn’t.

She gives you a quick nod before she awkwardly clears her own throat, the tension in your room thick as she reaches behind her on the ground for her t shirt, quickly pulling it on over her head before she scrambles out of your bed to search for her clothes. One by one, she silently dresses herself in her underwear, and her jeans, and soon, she looks exactly like the way she looked when she first got to your house.

You aren’t sure if Ellie’s ever been so eager to leave you before.

You inhale deeply as you sit up, tugging the blankets over your chest, suddenly scared to be bare in front of the girl, as if she wasn’t sucking on your tits mere moments ago. You can’t even find it in yourself to ask why she’s in such a hurry, the embarrassment from your first question eating you up to almost nothing as it is.

Ellie’s the one that breaks the silence first.

“Right…so…I gotta meet Jesse in town…I’ll uh…” she trails off as she trips over her own feet, walking backwards to quickly open your room door. It looks almost like she can’t leave quick enough, so you simply nod and give her a wave, with a half smile.

“Yeah…bye Ellie” your tone is dismissive, way too dismissive and you know that. But at this point, you want Ellie out of your apartment just as much as it seems like she wants to leave. It’s too awkward, to much of a grey area has covered the both of you that you desperately want to escape now, even if you were the one that brought it onto yourself.

She’s taken aback by the way you rush her out, regardless of the fact that she’s being just as dodgy as you are, if not more. She tries her best to ignore the way her heart aches at the way you’re dismissing her, avoiding the way it makes her feel like you’re kicking her out. Instead, she swallows thickly and gives a quick nod before she stutters over her own words, a sorry attempt at a goodbye, and leaves.

When she does leave, you’re left with a heavy feeling settled onto you. It makes you feel like you’ve done something wrong, like you’ve ruined something by talking too much or opening your mouth. Things were fine between you and Ellie, a bit confusing, but if it wasn’t broken, why try to fix it?

That night, you could only lay in your bed that smelled too heavily of Ellie, and think of all the ways you could try to force not only her, but yourself to forget about the events that just took place, desperate to get back to the way things were.

Waking up with a sore throat and a runny nose a few weeks after the incident with Ellie seemed to be just your luck.

Perhaps all of the stress and overthinking that you endured during the time weakened your immune system, the lack of sleep that you were getting not helping much either. You couldn’t really help it, not entirely at least. You should have seen it coming though, all the signs were right there in front of you.

Things had been fine with you and Ellie after everything happened that night, everything going back to normal almost too easily. You were both very much on the same page of pretending as though none of it happened, and Ellie only confirmed that when she texted you the morning after asking if you were going to attend some plans that your friend group had included you in a few days prior.

While the relief you felt alleviated a lot of the stress the situation brought on, you couldn’t avoid the nagging feeling that came with the unknown. Your overthinking was in overdrive of course, constantly wondering what Ellie was thinking, what she was going to do with your friendship, it was all too overwhelming.

Things that night with Ellie were fine, great even. You two were sat together in the booth of the lounge that you had all met up in, her hands dancing along your thighs, toying with the hem of your dress as you laughed at something Dina said. To your surprise, she even leaned into you towards the end of the night, whispering in your ear, asking if you wanted to get out of there, which was a telltale sign that Ellie wanted to get you alone.

You should’ve known you were coming down with something when you gave her a shy smile and politely declined, making up some excuse about being tired. Tired was an understatement, you were exhausted, and the worst part was, you couldn’t put your finger on what the hell was going on with you. Ellie could sense it to, frowning at the way you quickly brushed her off and scooted out of the booth, making you the first one to go home that night.

You thought it was just a lack of sleep, your body begging you to just relax and take care of yourself for once. Making a big cup of tea and giving yourself a warm bath would do just the trick, surly. You felt hopeful when tucking yourself into bed and drifting off to sleep almost instantly.

However, the next morning was brutal. Your throat felt like you’d been swallowing nails, your nose stuffy, head filled with so much pressure it felt as though it would pop at any time. Instantly, you knew you were sick, and as inconvenient as it was, you were due for it. You hadn’t gotten sick in who knows how long, so it almost felt like your body was forcing you to focus on yourself rather than Ellie for once.

You always wondered how people function properly when they were sick, getting things done, being productive, because you were the complete opposite. Being sick meant shutting down for approximately seven to nine business days until all of your symptoms were at least a tiny bit alleviated. You wouldn’t talk to anyone, or even tell anyone that you were sick, all you wanted was to sulk in bed and feel sorry for yourself until you got even remotely better.

You didn’t even text Ellie.

And your absence is what sends her into somewhat of a frenzy of anxiety. She’s so used to hearing from you almost every day, if not through text messages or calls, then through other apps where you two can send stupid memes and videos to each other. The first few days she rights off as you simply being busy, even if the entire situation at your house has her on edge and she’s thinking the absolute worst. But a day or two turns into a week, and it’s the longest Ellie has ever gone without hearing from you.

So now shes worried.

Because what happened to you? Are you angry with her? Have you finally realized that Ellie isn’t enough for you? That this awkward little game that you and her are playing is far too good for you? Because it is. Ellie knows deep in her bones that it is, she knows that she’s playing a dangerous game with you, dangling someone as fantastic as you by a thread, keeping you both separated by the whole friends with benefits facade that she knows is a load of bullshit.

And why does she do it? The same reason why anyone does, of course.

Ellie is a coward.

She’s the biggest coward there ever was, terrified of commitment, scared that the second she makes you here’s entirely things will change, and she’ll be forced to lose the single best thing that’s ever happened to her.

That, and the fact that you and Ellie have been friends since you were kids.

You both happened to be the new kids at the school in town, and it’s what brought you two together. You found friends in one another, and you decided to tackle the cruel adolescent world of middle school together rather than on your own.

The friends with benefits thing didn’t start until college, when one drunk night together lead to you straddling Ellie in some gross frat bedroom, grinding down on her as you pushed your tongue down her throat. At that point, Ellie had experienced many different nights with many different girls, earning a bit of a reputation at your university as a player, which you were very aware of. But regardless of all the girls she’d fallen into bed with, no one ever made her feel the way you did, never even came close.

And Ellie knew she couldn’t let go of that.

It became her own personal addiction, the silent agreement of fucking her best friend becoming a very frequent occurrence. Sleepovers would turn into nights filled with kisses and bliss, study sessions would almost always end with Ellie hovering over you with her hand shoved between your legs, playing with your pussy as much as she wanted until you became a moaning mess for her.

You two never truly discussed what you were, not until that night at least.

Ellie always thanked her lucky stars over the fact that you simply went along with it, allowing her to play with your body whenever she wanted, and you with hers. It was like a blessing, her beautiful best friend that she’d been obsessed with since the first day of sixth grade, now letting her see her in a way that she knew many didn’t see you in.

She should’ve known it was too good to be true.

Because that look in your eyes that night made Ellie’s heart race, and while she’d dreamt of you asking her that more times than she could count, it suddenly became her biggest nightmare. She couldn’t leave your room fast enough, the look of want, need, love in your eyes, practically begging her to make you more than just her friend she occasionally fucked.

As much as she didn’t want them to, she knew things would change after that.

She saw it in the way you acted that night at the lounge, denying her of alone time with you, quickly scurrying out of the booth as if you couldn’t get further away from her. And now your absence was only further confirming Ellie’s worst nightmare. You were done with her, years of friendship flushed down the fucking toilet because she was too much of a fucking coward to…

To….

To tell you how in love with you she was.

For once, why couldn’t she suck up her pride and just admit that she was in love? Did love make her weak? Did it mean she had to leave behind a life she didn’t even enjoy that much? The girls were great, a fun way to pass the time, but none of them held a candle to you, and she knew that. She even tried hooking up with someone the night she left your apartment, and it made her feel fucking sick.

And now you were leaving, and she had no one to blame but herself.

In true Ellie fashion though, she wouldn’t go down without a fight.

As much as she knew she didn’t deserve one, she wanted an explanation. You both had been friends for too fucking long for her to be thrown away like this, even if it was her fault.

So? A little over a week since that night at the lounge, Ellie is marching her way up to your apartment, and landing a hard knock on your familiar front door.

The noise makes you jolt out of your sleep, the sound of the harsh knocking echoing throughout your small apartment. It makes you whine, because after yet another miserable night with no sleep, you were finally able to knock yourself out with some cold medicine you had delivered to your house. The sleep was heavy and uncomfortable but it was the only way you were able to get even a little bit of shut eye. You hoped and prayed that whoever it was would get the memo that you wouldn’t come to the door, however another string of knocks made you groan loudly, your sore throat rattling as you did so.

Your bones ached as you tossed your blanket back and swung your legs over the bed. The cold wooden floor was unwelcoming to your feet, making you shiver as you pushed yourself off of the bed with weak arms, slowly trudging towards your door.

When you finally get to it, you try your best to clear your throat, knowing that it’s all in vain. Nothing was strong enough to bring back your voice from the raspy sound that it was now, all the coughing and sneezing making it so that you could barely get one syllable out let alone a full sentence.

“Yes?” You rasp out as you opened the door, pouting in annoyance as you rub your sleep filled eyes, arms wrapping around your body to stop the inevitable shiver that ran down your spine every second.

Ellie feels her heart break when she sees you. Your hair is messy, dark bags settled under your eyes, nose red, and skin lacking the usual radiance you always emitted. You didn’t even wear your usual cute matching pajama set, instead wearing a big t shirt that nearly swallowed you whole, and a pair of baggy sweatpants that were extremely faded.

You were sick.

And all the mean things she had planned to say to you suddenly disappear, now replaced with the urge to take care of you, and beg to understand why you didn’t call her when you started feeling this way.

“Baby…” she almost whines out, heart aching at the sight of you. You didn’t even realize who it was at first, your fever ridden brain having a hard time adjusting to the figure at the door. Her voice gives it away first.

“Ellie?” You croak out, and the sound is nearly enough to bring Ellie to tears.

Without another word, she’s gently pushing past you to get into your apartment, shutting the door behind her. Her eyes never lead your figure as she studies your face.

“Ellie…you shouldn’t be here, I’m really not-“ you try, because the last thing you want is to get Ellie sick, subjecting her to the hell that you’ve had to live through for the past week.

She quickly cuts you off, shaking her head as she grabs a hold of your wrist, tugging you to your room.

“When did you start feeling this way?” Her tone is stern, but soft, and it makes your heart melt.

A nasty cough rattles your chest, and you groan at the pain you feel in your tired lungs. You let her pull the sheets back and help you into bed, instantly sighing as the warmth wraps you up, making you feel a bit better.

You clear your throat before you respond. “The morning after the lounge…didn’t wanna bother anyone” you confess, now letting the girl tuck you into bed.

There’s a permanent frown on her face as she bring her palm to your head, which only deepens when she feels how warm you are. “You’re burning up…” she mumbles under her breath.

She looks around your room, only to see that your beside table is littered with tiny signs that you’d been trying to take care of yourself. There were cough drops, different bottles of medicine, a box of tissues and a small compress. She sighs as she grabs one of the bottles, reading the back before she speaks to you again.

“When’s the last time you took this?” She questions, another ugly cough rattling through your poor lungs, making you whine as you push your face into your pillow, feeling utterly fed up with the current condition of your body.

“Dunno…just been trying to sleep it off instead” your words make Ellie frown deeply, knowing how stubborn you’d always been with medicine, often times far too deep in felt pity to even bring yourself to take it.

“Well you’re going to take some now..come on, sit up” she urges you gently, her tattooed hand gently grabbing your arm and pulling you sit up. She shook out the correct dosage of medicine for you before she handed it to you with a bottle of water, her green eyes filled with worry and concern as she eyed you as you took it.

She felt her heart ache at the mere sight of you, a permanent pout on your lips, eyes drained of the familiar brightness she’d come to love oh so much. She could see how much it visibly pained you to even drink the water, your hand coming up to cup your throat as if to soothe the pain from the outside in.

“Hurts?” She questioned gently, her hand coming behind you to rub your back gently. You give her a slow nod, eyes closing as you lean into her and her touch, the feeling of her warm hands making the chill in your bones melt almost immediately.

She gives you a nod before she helps you lay back down. “Stay here…I know what’ll help, okay baby?” She reassures you. You’re too weak to even respond, a shaky sigh leaving your lips as you settle down against your pillow, the medicine already doing its work to give you a break from the intense cough your body had grown used to within the last few days.

Ellie is on her feet once she’s sure you’ve settled, walking out of your bedroom and into your kitchen where she grabs your little tea kettle, filling it up with water and putting the water to boil. She grabs your favorite mug while the water heats up, as well as some peppermint tea and some honey.

She finds herself deep in thought while she waits for the water to boil, a soft frown playing on her lips as her knuckle raps against your counter.

Ellie absolutely hates herself for not being more proactive with you. She should’ve known you were getting sick from the moment you weren’t responding to her text messages earlier in the week, it was a typical sign on your end that you weren’t feeling like yourself, something that you’d often do to not burden anyone with what you were feeling. But you were all alone, and it was Ellie’s job as your friend to take care of you when you needed her.

She sighs to herself as she finishes making up your tea, tapping the spoon on the edge of your mug before she brought it to her mouth, humming at the taste before she nodded to herself and brought it to your room.

The medicine must have knocked you out immediately, because your eyes are closed and your lips are parted in the slightest as soft snore escapes from your body. It makes Ellie groan to herself as she gently sits on your bed, hating the fact that she had to disturb your sleep.

“Baby?…come on pretty girl…wake up and drink a bit of this, then you can go back to bed” her soft voice reaches you in the depths of your fever ridden brain, and it makes you blink your eyes open to see if it’s another dream, or if she’s actually there.

Hazy eyes blink back at Ellie, a soft whine leaving your lips as you bring your hand up to rub your eyes, the nasty cough rattling through your chest as you promptly sit up for her, reaching out and taking the mug.

“You shouldn’t be here Ellie….what if I get you sick?” You croak out before bringing the mug to your lips, taking a sip of the warm drink, allowing it to soothe your aching throat.

Ellie watches you intently before she rolls her eyes playfully. “Jokes on you, getting sick would just mean you have to take care of me” she gives you a wink, and you groan softly, nudging her with your blanket clad foot before you take another sip and set the mug on your bedside table.

“Feels like my fever broke…I should be able to take care of myself now, El” you try, a soft sigh leaving your lips as you settle back against your pillow, tugging your blankets up to your chin.

Ellie watches you closely, you were clearly in need of sleep, exhaustion taking over your weak body the second your head hit the pillow. She simply hummed at your response before she pushed herself off the bed. You assumed this was here obeying, silently leaving because she assumed you were already fast asleep, however the girl was kicking off her shoes instead, leaving her only in her sweatpants and her t-shirt before she promptly crawled in next to you in your bed.

You whine softly, but still let her tug you closer. Her strong hands are like ice on your warm thigh, tugging it over her leg and pressing your body against hers. She’s so warm, and you can’t help but push your cold hands under her shirt, pressing against her warm stomach. She chuckles softly as it makes her shiver, keeping you close regardless.

“Might as well stay since I’m here now, yeah?” She hums out softly, earning only a weak hum from you in response.

Ellie isn’t sure if she’s ever seen anyone fall asleep so quickly, soft snores leaving your lips again as she holds you close, rubbing small shapes into your back as she simply lays there, holding you in your bed.

It makes her heart ache when she realizes this is the first time she’s back here with you since you asked her what you were to her that one night. It makes her wonder how much things would’ve changed up until now if she’d told you the truth, told you just how much she wanted you to be hers and only hers, dropping the stupid act of being single and being free for you would’ve been much smarter than what she did instead.

Seeing you sick, in bed and all alone made Ellie feel like she’d failed you, not only as someone who was madly in love with you, but as your friend. What kind of friend ignored the signs, forcing you to take care of yourself when you felt so poorly.

Watching you lay there, sleeping soundly as you so deserved in her arms made Ellie’s heart burst with a feeling she knew she’d had for you for such a long time, since she’d met you really. Taking care of you felt even better.

So that’s exactly what she was gonna do.

Ellie doesn’t leave your side the entire time she’s there with you.

Which is about three days. You were already coming to the end of your cold when she had found you, and while it felt worse than when you first got sick, the end was near.

Your heart would flutter every time Ellie would wake you up for your medicine, or gently tug you out of bed for a warm bath, she’d even managed to run down to your favorite cafe for a bowl of soup in record breaking time to make sure you were getting something good to eat. She did everything in her power to nurse you back to health, never once agreeing with your many pleas to leave you there alone before you got her sick.

When you finally stopped asking her to leave you, you were left with the plaguing thoughts that you tried getting rid of, the ones filled with Ellie denying your question, denying you of the answer you wanted so badly when you asked her what you were to her. It made no sense to you, someone that used your body at their disposal, caring so much for your health and your wellbeing, you truly couldn’t outweigh the reasons as to why Ellie was suddenly here, when she wasn’t before.

It didn’t take long for your fever to break completely, and for the cough to subside to something that happened only once in a while rather than every minute or so. It was finally starting to look up for you.

Which meant Ellie had to leave soon.

You were sat up in your bed while Ellie was in your kitchen, washing up some of the dishes from when you and her had eaten together, a permanent frown on your lips as you toyed with the blanket draped over your legs.

Ellie returned, a soft smile on her face as she watched the way you were sat up, looking far more alert than a few days prior.

“You’re looking so much better, baby…that’s good to see” she hummed out as she moved to crawl into bed with you, taking her usual spot. She leaned in, wanting to press a kiss to your neck, she lets out a soft huff when you try to pull away.

“Hm? What’s the matter? I already told you I don’t care if I get sick…” you can hear the smirk in her voice as she leans in again, this time aiming for the corner of your lips.

You just couldn’t take it anymore.

You pressed your hand to her chest, finally looking into her eyes. She can tell by the look on your face that this is much more than you fussing over her getting sick.

“I can’t…what is this Ellie? I appreciate you taking care of me and helping me get better but…” your words trail off, a soft pout on your lips as you struggle with the words you want to say before you let out a gentle sigh, eyes dropping from Ellie’s, looking down at your lap instead.

“This feels too intimate…the kissing…the way touch me…” you explain, your voice falling to nothing but a small, hoarse sound.

“I want to respect what you said about us…but you’re making it really hard when you treat me like I’m your girlfriend” you sigh out, hating that you even had to explain any of this to Ellie in the first place.

She’s frowning at this point, eyebrows furrowed as she eyes you carefully. It feels like you’re practically twisting the knife that had been lodged into her heart from the moment you asked her what you were to her. She ignorantly wished you two could just ignore it all, let it blow over while she pretended she could have you in the way she wanted, all while hurting you at the same time.

“I think we just…shouldn’t do these things anymore…the kissing, the fucking….” Your words are shaky, and Ellie can hear that you’re at the brink of tears without even seeing your face.

And she knows this is it, she’s lost her chance.

You finally look up at her, your eyes red and filled with tears threatening to spill out onto your soft cheeks.

“I’m sorry…I appreciate you coming here and helping me but I can’t-“ your words are cut off by Ellie’s lips on yours. Both of her hands are cupping your face as she gives you a kiss so filled with passion, it’s nearly enough to make you whine. But as good as her lips feel, you’re quick to push her off.

“Ellie no! I told you, you’ll get sick” you complain, your hands wrapped around both of her wrists as you pull them away from your face.

A moment passes as she simply stares into your eyes, a pleading looking written on her face as if she’s silently begging you to hear her, to understand what she wants to convey all without saying a single word in the process.

But you don’t.

“I’m not like you, Ellie…I get attached, and I want more with you…more than you want with me and it just won’t-“ it’s the second time she’s cutting you off for the night, this time she speaks.

“And I love that!” she blurts out finally, her voice cracking with the amount of emotions that filled her up, from simply staring into your eyes.

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion as you eye the girl closely, shaking your head as you try to understand. “But you said….” Your words trail off, because even recalling the words she’d said to you that night hurts.

Ellie sighs softly before she shakes her head. “I know what I said…and I’m an idiot for it” she groans out, knowing deep down this would always have been the outcome of her actions, whether she wanted it or not.

She reached forward, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before her hand dropped down to cup your cheek gently.

“I’ve wanted you…since the moment I laid eyes on you” she breaths out. You can practically hear the relief it brings her, just from admitting it to you. Ellie feels as though the weight of the world is lifted off of her shoulders when the words fall from the tip of her tongue.

You simply stare at her, eyes wide and eager to hear more, practically begging her to go on.

Her pink tongue darts from her behind her lips, thumb stroking your cheek gently before she continued to speak. “I felt like when we started doing this…it would be my ticket to finally telling you how much I love you…clearly I’m too much of a coward for that” she chuckles out, only half joking as the bitter words fall into the air of your room.

The moment of silence that falls between the two of you feels like an eternity, it feels too long since you’ve said something and it makes Ellie feel sick. She didn’t know what she was hoping for when she told you, it whatever was happening was far from it.

And so, she begins to panic.

“I’m sorry I ever said those things to you. I just didn’t know what to say when you asked and I panicked and it just-“ it’s your turn to cut her off, leaning in and pressing your lips to hers to shut her up. It makes Ellie melt as soon as you do, a soft whine leaving her lips as one of her hands falls down to your waist, wanting you as close as possible.

Your lips work against hers for a moment before you finally pull apart, a soft smile on your lips as you stare into her eyes.

“So you love me, hm?” You tease her, and it makes Ellie whine as she falls back to lay against your pillow, tugging you down with her by your waist as she pulls you to straddle her lower body.

“That’s all you gathered? Here I am confessing my undying love and apologizing at the same time and all you get is one thing” she smirks as she stares up at you, her hands caressing your bare thighs.

“You’re lucky I’m used to your idiotic tendencies…I don’t think anyone would deal with this behavior” you hear her again with a fake pout, which earns a fake groan from her end before she gives your thighs a firm squeeze.

“Good thing it’s you then, hm?” She mumbles out softly, making you giggle before you bend down to attach your lips to hers, wanting nothing more than to enjoy the girl now that feelings had been confessed.

After a moment of your lips against hers, you hear Ellie groan, which makes you frown as you pull away. “Everything okay baby?” You ask softly, only to see that Ellie is pouting childish up at you.

“My throat kinda hurts…”

#ellie williams smut #ellie williams #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie tlou #ellie williams x female reader #ellie x y/n #ellie the last of us #ellie x you

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 11 months

Text

Honey Girl. Chapter Two.

Chapter One. Chapter Three. Chapter Four. Chapter Five. Chapter Six. Chapter Seven. Chapter Eight. Chapter Nine. Series Masterlist. The Playlist.

Pairing - Dad's Best Friend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader - soulmate au

Chapter Synopsis - You and Bucky try to navigate what it means to be soulmates - and how difficult it is to keep your hands off each other.

Warnings - smut. cursing.

Word Count - 4k

Author's Note - part two!! thank you SO much for all of the love on part one - it has made me immensely happy. you're all the sweetest and i'm so grateful. i'm going on vacation in a few days, so i'm taking a hiatus for a few weeks as i won't have cell service. so, consider this my parting gift to you <3

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback!) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3 please, send me your thoughts, predictions, desires!! I will get excited with you!!

Masterlist. Inbox.

Sunlight streams through the billowing white curtains, rousing you slowly. The gentle breeze cools the room, salt sticking to the air. Warmth is seeping into the glass of the windows, encouraging you to kick your sheets to the foot of your bed, limbs stretching and rolling.

You wake, and for a moment, you feel perfectly at peace. You feel light, tranquil, relaxed. You flex your neck from side to side, yawning as you do it. You notice that the sun is already up, beaming into your bedroom. It's going to be a very warm day, you think. I better pack sunblock.

You glance to where your bag is thrown haphazardly on the floor, contents spilling everywhere. It's unlike you, to not put something away properly. You take pride in being a tidy person. You must have been exhausted when you got home last night.

That's when it hits you.

Bucky.

The events of yesterday coming crashing down around you like a tidal wave. Hearts racing, hands interlacing, lips melding. Bodies tangling, breaths matching, knees buckling. Two souls, tied together forever.

Your Tethering.

To Bucky. Your Dad's best friend Bucky.

His absence is suddenly all you can think about. He's not here, and you feel like half of your heart is missing. You ache. There's a discomfort that you know can only be cured by the presence of your soulmate.

You're deep in thought when your phone rings, startling you. It's Bucky.

"Mornin' sugar," he drawls. The low tone of his voice is like molten honey, gorgeous and golden.

"Good morning, Buck."

You hear him exhale at the sound of your voice.

"I know we said we'd meet at ten, but can we make it earlier?" he asks. Then, quieter, "Feel like I can't breathe without you."

He murmurs the last part, as if it's a secret. Something sacred.

"Of course, Buck. I can be ready by nine?"

"Thanks, sweet girl. I'll pick you up?"

"Perfect. See you then."

"See you then."

It's almost painful to hang up the phone. It's like there's a gravitational force in The Universe, willing you against it. You ignore it defiantly and press the red button, swinging your legs over the side of the bed.

There's something in your gut telling you that this might just be the first day of the rest of your life. You certainly can't go back to the way things were. You're not sure if you want to.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

Bucky arrives at 8:45.

You're in the bathroom with the door closed, so you don't hear him pull up. You feel it. Like a magnetism, alerting you to his whereabouts. You breathe a little easier immediately, knowing he's outside.

You grab your bag and the picnic and pull on your shoes, eager to see him. You feel like a teenager again, giddy with anticipation. Apart from, this isn't your average first date. No, this is your last first date ever. This is a first date with the man you're bound to spend the rest of your life with. No pressure, you tell yourself. One step at a time.

Your heart kicks up in double time, thundering against your ribcage. You inhale deeply, cracking your knuckles. You can do this. It's just Bucky.

You bound down your stairs, practically running to his truck. Bucky's leaning against the passenger door, the wind ruffling his hair, sunlight reflecting off his steely blue eyes. He's wearing shorts and a white button up, which is blowing gently in the breeze. His sleeves are pushed up his forearms, exposing his gorgeous tanned skin. He has several shirt buttons undone, accentuating his broad chest, sunglasses tucked into the breast pocket. He looks so handsome. So classically elegant. Like he belongs in an old movie - a perfect leading man.

He eyes you carefully, gauging your reaction. You can tell he doesn't want to overstep, worried about pushing you too far too fast. You walk over and run your fingers across his exposed chest gently, tracing a path up his neck until you're caressing his cheek. His stubble tickles your fingertips, causing a smile to curl at the corners of your mouth. You finally meet his gaze, and all your stress is forgotten. You feel peaceful again.

"Hi," you whisper.

"Hi, pretty girl," he murmurs back, hands finding your waist. "You alright?"

"I'm okay. Are you okay?"

"I'm okay," he grins. "So, how do you feel about a day of sailing? You, me, and the ocean, baby."

"I think that sounds perfect."

He opens the car door for you, helping you up and into the passenger seat. He climbs in, clicking on his seat belt and starting the engine. Before he pulls away, he turns and looks at you, holding your stare for a moment. Bucky reaches for you, lacing your fingers together, resting your intertwined hands on your thigh. He begins to drive away, taking you towards the ocean. Towards your future.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

You know nothing about sailing.

Luckily, you don't need to. Bucky's quite content to keep you sitting pretty on the top deck while he does all of the work, pulling and tying and knotting. The crisp white sails billow in the wind, the ocean waves providing a steady, constant soundtrack. Birds fly overhead, sunshine beaming down, the wood underneath you warm and smooth. It's paradise.

You're soaking up the sun rays when you hear a click. You sit up to see Bucky holding his film camera, pointed right at you.

"Creep," you tease.

"Just want to have something to look back on. Our first day as soulmates. It's an occasion, you know," he grins.

He moves across the boat to sit next to you, thigh pressed up against yours. He's so close you can taste the spearmint on his breath. You tangle a hand in his hair, caressing the back of his head.

"I brought you a few new things to try," you tell him. "Some recipes I'm testing. I want your honest opinion. No sugar coating. Promise?"

"I promise," he winks, holding up a scouts honour. "I wouldn't lie to you, honey."

You reach over and grab your picnic basket, unwrapping various beeswax packages and laying them out in front of you.

"Okay - we have white chocolate and pistachio muffins, raspberry and lemon macarons, earl grey and lavender cookies and carrot and cinnamon cake."

You glance over at Bucky, expecting him to be deciding what to try first. Instead, you find him watching you carefully, gentle smile etched across his face.

"What?" you laugh.

"Nothing," he beams. "I just... I love it when you start talking about food. You're passionate. You light up."

"Don't make it weird," you joke, slightly taken aback by his honesty. He did promise not to sugar coat.

He reaches for a macaron, eager to try one after you mentioned them yesterday. He pops one in his mouth, and lets out a groan that can only be described as pornographic.

"Fuck," he moans. "This might be the best thing I've ever eaten."

"You promised you wouldn't lie," you laugh.

"I'm not," he chuckles, placing his hand over his heart. "I swear to you. These things should be used as medicine. They'd cure anything."

"Shut up," you tease bashfully, bumping your shoulder into his.

He tries the other sweets one by one, complimenting you immensely. He's so specific in the way he commends your baking. He comments on certain flavours, and textures, and the way everything melts on his tongue. He really takes the time to think about what he says. It's so intimate.

"You're gonna do this for a living, right?" he asks, turning to face you.

"I hope so," you confess. "It's all I want to do. Going to culinary school was a huge risk, but I did it. It was difficult, but they were also the best four years of my life. I just learned so much. I want to put it all into practice."

"I think you should. It'd be such a waste if you didn't. You're so talented, sugar."

"Thanks, Buck," you grin. "I just don't know where to start."

He thinks for a moment.

"If you could do anything, anything in the world - what would you do?"

He's looking at you so intensely, you almost want to shy away. His steel blue eyes are boring into you, reading your mind, figuring out your soul.

"I'd... I'd open a bakery of my own. I want a lot that overlooks the ocean. With big windows."

Bucky smiles gently, adoration written across his face.

"I'd be your most loyal customer," he vows. "Oh, I have a better idea - I'll be your quality control. I'll taste test everything before you sell it. You know, just in case."

"Just in case," you laugh. "Right."

"It's a tough job, but someone's got to do it," he winks.

The sound of your laughter is like dopamine to Bucky. It fires off neurons in his brain, receptors buzzing and alight. He almost feels drunk off the sound, floating above ground.

You relax into him, laying down and resting your head in his lap. He's warm, and soft, and so comfortable. You could lie here forever.

He runs his fingers through your hair gently, playing with the strands. The repetitive rocking of the boat lulls you into an easy sleep, the sunlight wrapping around you, taking the place of a blanket. Bucky watches you drift off, unable to wipe the smile off his face.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

A particularly strong gust of wind wakes you, rousing you from sleep. Your fingers are interlinked with Bucky's, head still resting on his strong thighs.

"How long was I out?" you ask, looking up at him.

"Like, twenty minutes? You looked peaceful, thought I'd let you rest."

"Sorry, Buck," you chuckle.

"Hey, don't apologise. I'll take it as a compliment. You know, they say you only sleep around the people you feel safe with."

"They say a lot of fuckin' things," you laugh, repeating his words from yesterday.

"I do, though," you say after a moment. "Feel safe with you. It's not just the soulmate thing. I always have."

Bucky leans down to press his forehead to yours, closing his eyes. He pulls away and kisses the spot where you were just connected.

"We should talk about us," you murmur, sitting up to face him.

"Uh oh. Are you breaking up with me?" Bucky jokes, nudging your knee with his.

"Yeah, right," you scoff. "As if you'd be so lucky. You're stuck with me, I'm afraid."

"I'll survive," he winks. "But we should. Talk about us."

You look at each other for a moment, carefully. You notice that the ocean is reflecting in Bucky's eyes, waves gleaming and blue.

"I don't know where to start," you whisper.

"Maybe start at the beginning," he suggests, reaching out to rest his palm on your thigh, fingertips rubbing comforting circles into your skin.

"I... I think - I think we should do exactly that. Start at the beginning."

He nods at you reassuringly, urging you to continue.

"I want to start slow. Really slow. I know we already know each other, but this... this is different. We don't know each other like this."

"Like soulmates," he agrees. "It's a whole other level. A league of its own."

"Exactly. I know we're Tethered, but, I think we should treat this like a normal relationship. We should date, and just... take this step by step."

"One step at a time," he confirms. "Prepare yourself, honey. I'm about to date the hell outta you."

"Someone save me," you laugh, throwing your head back. "All those poor girls that have come before me - they had to put up with this?"

He laughs with you, the sound rumbling in his chest.

"Trust me, sugar, you're different."

Bucky leans forward and slots his lips to yours, hands going to your waist to pull you closer.

Kissing your soulmate is unlike any other feeling. It's complete serenity. Two bodies, designed by The Universe to fit together perfectly.

Your fingers thread through Bucky's hair as you move to sit in his lap, straddling him. You grind your hips forward, illiciting a groan from the both of you.

Bucky slips his tongue into your mouth, tasting the sugar there. He can't get enough. You're so sweet and soft underneath his hands, underneath his tongue. He wants more.

He tips you backwards, so you're lying flat on the deck. Bucky moves to kneel in between your legs, prying them open gently. He kisses his way from your ankle to your knee, occasionally nipping at your flesh. He likes the idea of there being a mark on you that he left. He feels more protective of you than he ever has of anyone. The feeling vibrates through his bones, fires up his nerve endings. He needs to feel every inch of your skin as soon as possible, or he's convinced he'll burst into flames.

He smooths his hands up your thighs, fingers catching in the waistband of your shorts. He shimmies them down your legs, and inhales sharply at the sight before him. You're laid out on the deck of his boat like a goddess, the white shirt adorning your body matching the white lace underwear underneath. The sun rays are beating down, illuminating you, making you glow from the inside out. Bucky can't breathe, looking at you. He feels like all of the oxygen has been stolen from his lungs, replaced with pure desire.

You're breathless, panting, chest heaving. You're shaking with anticipation, willing him to do something. Anything.

"Bucky," you whine. "Please."

He's never heard a prettier sound. It's like angel song, the way you say his name.

"Patience, sweets. I thought we were taking it slow."

"Asshole," you laugh, poking him in the chest with your toe. "You're a hypocrite."

"Am I?" he smirks, running his fingertips across the inside of your thighs.

"Yes. You can't kiss me like that and then tell me to have patience."

"My apologies, ma'am."

He leans over and kisses you again, biting your bottom lip as he pulls away. Bucky slips your underwear down your legs and tucks them into the pocket of his shorts, ignoring your scoff as you watch him do it.

"Come here, pretty baby," he murmurs, tugging at your hips to pull you closer to him.

He nudges your core with his nose, inhaling deeply. It's filthy, the action, but it makes you ache with want. He licks into the crease of your thigh next, tasting the salt on your skin. Your hand flies to his hair, tugging the chocolate strands. You whine again, and Bucky commits the sound to memory.

He surprises you by sucking your clit gently, causing your hips to buck up towards his mouth. He splays one hand across your stomach, holding you down. He uses his other hand to insert a finger into you, groaning at your warmth. He crooks it up, and you keen.

"I know, baby, I know," he coos, adding a second finger.

You're not sure if it's because of the glaring sunlight or because of Bucky, but there's a thin sheen of sweat coating your skin, dripping down your temple. You're burning from the inside out, white hot heat running through your veins.

He thrusts both fingers in and out of you steadily, curling them on the up stroke. You throw your head back, hips wriggling and writhing.

"Where you going, pretty girl?" he drawls. "Come here - that's it."

He pulls you back to him, fingers never stopping. He looks up at you, and notices that you've thrown a hand over your face, shielding yourself.

"Don't go shy on me now," he practically purrs, smiling when you move your arm away. "Most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

"Fuck," you moan, suddenly glad you're in the middle of the ocean. The sounds you're letting out are filthy.

"I know, pretty baby. I know."

His fingers push you closer and closer to the edge, speeding up slightly. You're whining, keening, hips bucking up into him. You can't stay still. You feel like you're on fire, red hot electricity running through you. It's never been like this with anyone before. It never will be again.

"You're close, honey, I can feel it. You're almost there," he drawls. "Atta girl. Come on, baby. You got it. Good girl."

His low, honeyed words throw you into your climax, back arching off the sun warmed wood. Bucky talks you through it, encouraging and praising you in hushed murmurs. You see stars, bright white patterns flashing behind your eyelids. The world goes quiet for a moment, and all you feel is peace.

Bucky brings you back to reality by rubbing soothing circles into the bare skin of your thigh, still muttering softly. He lets you catch your breath before leaning over and kissing you gently.

"You okay, sugar?"

You smile at him in a daze, still floating on air.

"I'm good, Buck. Very good, actually."

He laughs at your response, moving your hair away from your face. You sit up to look at him, admiring him carefully.

"You're so pretty," you whisper. "I mean, I've always known it. But now, it's so... blinding. You're the most beautiful person in the world."

He's not sure how to process your words. He's never felt so loved, so safe, so appreciated before. It's overwhelming. He doesn't know what to say - so instead, he kisses you hard.

"You're the sweetest girl in the world, you know that right?" he whispers against your lips.

He moves to sit behind you, so your back is resting against his chest. You nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, breathing him in. He smells like warmth, and salt, and home.

"I don't think we should tell my parents," you say lowly, afraid to ruin the moment. "Not yet, anyway."

"I agree," he reassures. "I think we should figure this out first. Figure us out."

You lean up and peck his lips gently, pulling away to trace your fingertips over the contours of his face.

"It's gonna take a while to figure this out, isn't it?"

"That's the thing, sweet girl. We have all the time in the world."

You relax back into his arms, letting his steady heartbeat lull you into complete tranquility.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

You spend all day on the boat with Bucky, soaking up the sun. Your shirts are billowing in the wind, hair blowing in every direction. The ocean rocks you both in routine motion, gentle and calming.

He teaches you the basics of sailing, sitting knee to knee with you while you repeatedly tie knots into pieces of rope. He stands behind you comfortingly as you pull and tug at the rigging, supporting you only when you ask for help.

The two of you sit tangled together on the deck, enjoying your picnic. You take a moment to rub sunblock into Bucky's shoulders, ignoring the heat that rises in your chest when he groans in delight. He's irresistible. This is more than just lust. This is a magnetism, an almost animalistic connection. It's quite literally written in the stars.

The both of you are clearly reluctant to go home. You sit in Bucky's truck outside your apartment for hours, talking about nothing and everything. You don't invite him upstairs. You know that if you do, you'll jump his bones instantly. You've both agreed to take this slow. You have to start being strict with yourselves, or you'll just keep ending up in bed.

Eventually, your stomach rumbles, making Bucky chuckle.

"You should go. Eat something."

"I know. I just... I like being with you."

He leans over the centre console to press a kiss to your lips, revelling in the way you taste like the ocean breeze.

"There's no one else in the world I'd rather be with," he murmurs against your mouth.

You pull away and take a deep breath, preparing to leave Bucky for tonight.

"Thank you, for today. It's been perfect."

"Perfect day for a perfect girl," he winks, making you both laugh.

"One step at a time."

"All the time in the world," he echoes.

"Goodnight, Buck," you whisper, moving in closer to press your forehead to his.

"Goodnight, honey girl," he whispers back, pecking your lips quickly.

He jumps out of the drivers side to help you down from the truck, holding your hand carefully. You smile at the déjà vu. He does too.

You look back at him once more before closing your front door. He's already looking at you, his eyes never once leaving your frame, smile never leaving his face.

✵ ✵ ·　 ✵ 　　 * · ✵

You're curled up on the couch when your phone rings, startling you from your peace. You look at the caller ID in confusion.

"Stella? Hey - you okay?"

"Hey, you. Long time no see, huh?"

"It's been a while," you laugh. "I didn't expect a call from you."

"I'm sorry we haven't talked in so long. I've been super busy - I'm opening my own café! It has a bookshop inside it too - oh it's gorgeous, you wouldn't even believe it."

"That sounds amazing, Stella. I'm so happy for you, wow."

"I'm actually calling because I have something to ask you."

"Ask away, Stell."

"I have a sort of... proposition for you. An offer, if you will."

"You're really building the anticipation here," you chuckle.

"Sorry, sorry! So, I'm gonna need a Head Baker. I can't do it, because I'll be manager, and I'm the owner which is a tough job in itself. Opening a café is fucking difficult, you know!" she laughs, before continuing. "You'd have complete creative control - you'd design your own bakes, everything would be completely down to you. There's quite literally only one person in this world that I'd want to do this job, and it's you."

You almost can't believe what she's telling you. It sounds perfect. It sounds like a dream.

"Stella - are you sure? This is a huge deal. You want me?"

"I only want you. I can't picture working alongside anyone else. We made such a good team in culinary school, and we always said we'd find each other in the future."

"I... I don't even know what to say."

"Say yes!" she encourages, giggling down the phone.

"Yes!" you echo, giddy with joy. "God, Stella, yes!"

You're smiling from ear to ear, unable to wipe the grin off your face. Your dream job has been presented to you on a silver platter. You'd be stupid not to take it.

"I mean - when do I start? What should I wear? Do you want a set menu, or can I change it up all the time? Vegan options? Gluten free?"

"I can send you all of the boring stuff in an email - contracts, salary information, all that shit. You can quite literally do whatever the fuck you want, girl. I trust you completely. I trust your culinary skills even more."

"Oh my god, I'm so excited. Thank you, Stella. Seriously. This is just amazing."

"I can't wait to have you here with me again!"

You process for a moment, trying to make sense of what she just said.

"Wait... what? Where?"

"In California. The café is here, in California!"

You can't hear her next words due to the ringing in your ears. Your chest tightens, your hands ball into fists, your breathing becomes ragged.

There's a million thoughts racing through your mind, and you can't quite get a firm grasp on any of them.

Bucky would never leave this place. This is his home. I can't ask him to abandon his life here - I wouldn't want to. We've been soulmates for two days. What about his job? His friends? Would I leave everything behind and move across the country for him? I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I can't have my cake and eat it too. He'd give everything up for me in a heartbeat - I can't let him. It's not fair.

You're suddenly intensely aware - you have to make a choice.

Bucky or your dreams.

Tag List -

@lillytracy6996 @securegorgon @roostersforevergirl @povlvr @val-writesstuff @dreadfulxives18 @1deadpool26 @abbygraceasd @nyutasgirl @mavrellover91 @winterslove1917 @f-this42 @skewedcherries @noisesinthedark @kandis-mom @black-cat-2 @harrystylesandthegoobs @vladsgirlxx @h0nestly-though @arienotari @nash-dara @wandaneedstherapy @galaxy-dusk @justherefortheficandsmut @cremebruleequeen @cjand10 @buggy14 @avengers-fixation @blueberrybambi @beautiful-loserr @sarah1barnes @miss-rebel-without-applause @ragingrainbowshipl @shamrockqueen @savemeroman @jenn-f @8crazy-freak8 @daddyjackfrost @openup-yourmind @adangerousbalance @mandijo17 @daddylorianisastateofmind @rcarbo1 @casa-boiardi @spideegwen @navs-bhat @mssbridgerton @asuni921 @middle-of-the-earth @mfrnchsk

tag list continued here <3

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stawbeemilk · 25 days

Text

⤷ their love language – hq

✩ characters: various

✩ warnings: none

✩ a/n: i finally managed to get the motivation to actually sit down and write something, thank you for being so patient with me!!

⭑ physical touch

he's definitely a little touch starved, regardless of how much he might try to deny it. it was definitely a bit of a shock when you first started dating and you saw a completely new side to him, discovering just how clingy he could be and how much he loves to be close to you. there's nothing that makes his heart flutter more than feeling the warmth of your body against his own, and he finds himself unable to stop from initiating physical contact at every chance he gets. he appreciates the little things such as linking pinkies or having his hand on your lower back when the two of you are in a crowd, but he especially loves cuddling with you after a long day while you play with his hair, and when you randomly hug him from behind he literally melts.

⤷ bokuto, hanamaki, nishinoya, konoha, goshiki, atsumu, yahaba

⭑ words of affirmation

he's always encouraging you, not only with actual words but also through smaller gestures, such as leaving you little notes on the fridge for you to read before you leave for work or by sending you sweet messages throughout the day. he loves to tell you how proud he is of you, congratulating you for all of your achievements, regardless of how small or unimportant you might think they are. if you're ever feeling insecure about yourself he will reassure you as if his life depends on it, complimenting you and reminding you that he thinks you're perfect— but at the same time he also likes to hear encouraging words from you, especially at times when he tends to doubt himself and needs nothing more than to hear that he's enough.

⤷ akaashi, yaku, oikawa, ennoshita, yamaguchi, tanaka

⭑ quality time

he's not always the best with words, and so he prefers to show you he cares by spending time with you. sometimes it's a case of not doing anything in particular, and instead just being in the same room as you and enjoying your company. he really appriciates the fact that the two of you feel comfortable enough to simply be in a room with each other, not feeling the need to try and fill the silence with small talk and finding the lack of conversation to be comforting rather than awkward. he also enjoys doing chores with you such as getting groceries together or cleaning the house, things which others might find mundane, but he likes doing them purely because it means he gets to spend time with you.

⤷ kenma, tsukishima, kyotani, ushijima, kunimi, sakusa, kageyama

⭑ gift giving

he shows his appreciation for you by giving you things, whether that's something he knows you've been wanting for a long time or just an item he's seen when he was out shopping that immediately made him think of you. he's very observant of the things you like and dislike, and when the two of you go out together and you subconsciously start eyeing a particular item in a store he'll definitely notice, making a mental note of it so that he can buy it for you later as a surprise. he's also quite sentimental and will keep absolutely everything you give to him, from birthday cards to polaroids to the matching bracelets you made when you first started dating— no matter how insignificant you think it might be, he keeps it.

⤷ kuroo, hinata, sugawara, matsukawa, semi, yamamoto, suna

⭑ acts of service

he loves doing favours for you, especially when he knows you've been feeling stressed or overwhelmed, and when you're sick and need someone to look after you he'll always be there for you no matter what. he's the type to make sure that you're taking care of yourself and will frequently ask you if you've eaten— if you say you haven't he will insist on making you food or ordering you takeout, telling you that you shouldn't go without a proper meal. while he loves taking care of you, he feels so warm inside when you do the same for him, and having you there to support him when you know he needs it the most will never fail to make him feel loved.

⤷ daichi, kai, fukunaga, iwaizumi, kita, osamu, hirugami

⤷ please do not repost my works on any other sites!

#★彡 elle’s writings .ᐟ #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #various x reader #haikyuu various x reader #bokuto x reader #atsumu x reader #akaashi x reader #oikawa x reader #kenma x reader #tsukishima x reader #sakusa x reader #kageyama x reader #kuroo x reader #hinata x reader #sugawara x reader #suna x reader #iwaizumi x reader #osamu x reader

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a-hazbin-reader · 4 months

Note

I hope this is an okay thing to ask for but could you do headcanons of Alastor with female reader on her- time of the month?? (Kinda wondering what to be like for him with all the blood ya know???) 🙇🏻‍♀️ please, thank you!

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: Alastor being nasty, canon cannibalism mentioned, menstruation(wish I got a TW for that in real life fr)

Description: ☝️⬆️

Can literally smell it coming before you even have a chance to check your calendar

Creep

He's like a fucking shark, smelling you from miles away

Maybe it's his affection for you but you're the one person he reacts this way to, he's fine around anyone else on their period

If you forget then he's not going to remind you because he likes waking up to the smell of your blood

Don't worry though he'll take care of the sheets and your clothes, he's got you bby girl

Tbh Alastor is practically starving whenever your period starts, the coppery smell making his mouth water constantly

He's sipping tea and you walk by?? Oops, the cup is crushed in his hands and he's sitting there with tea and broken glass all over him

He wants to devour you all the time

Definitely just finds opportunities to bite you and draw blood so he can stave off his desires

Don't worry it feels good

Eats at Cannibal Town more often

Other than that, he tends to pamper you when you're on your period

You're craving something??? Don't worry, Husk or Niffty will go get it for you! He'll snuggle you while you wait

Wait actually that looks kinda good give him a bite

Fuck off

He steals a bite anyways, forcing you to feed him a little nibble

Thank you love

You're experiencing cramps?? Do you want him to massage the area for you? You want a hot water bottle? He's got you

You just want to cuddle and be held? He can spare some time for that, just let him close the door first

Bby please he has a reputation to uphold

Loves when you have mood swings and snap at the others, encourages your anger

He's a shit stirrer

He literally just likes poking the bear and pointing you in his current victim's direction

"My dear, I thought you knew that Angel ate your sweets..."

As long as it's not directed at him

If you turn your anger on him then his ears fold back and he finds an excuse to run off

"I'm sorry my dear but Charlie is calling for me! We'll have to continue this conversation for another time!"

Coward

"Alastor, Y/N is looking for you-"

"I'M NOT HERE"

If your mood changes to sadness and you start crying then he panics and freezes up

"I-uh-I'm...sorry..?"

Makes awkward grabby motions at you then stops

He hates seeing you upset but he's an asshole and doesn't know what to do, doesn't want to make it worse

Idk if he's ever made a genuine attempt to make someone he cares about feel better

Alastor doesn't want to be the reason you're crying

Will just ask you what he can do to make it better, gripping your chin so that you have to look at him

He's serious

Whatever you ask of him he'll do it and he'll do it himself, no sending someone in his place and no fuss

Is visibly relieved once you're calm again, rubbing your back and letting out a sigh

Alastor is as attentive as he can bring himself to be when you're on your period, but you still have to put up with a lot of his shit

I hope this is what you were asking for 🥺

#alastor hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader

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linopls · 8 months

Text

kinktober day nine

oral chan x fem!reader summary: you're chan's favorite inspiration warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, oral (fem receiving), blond chan (it needs a warning) 0.8k words

“hey, can i eat you out?”

“what?”

you and chan had been sitting silently in his studio. he had his headphones on and was working on a song for their next comeback and you were sat on the couch behind him, working on a project for one of your classes. you’d both been sat in complete silence for the past three hours, both working in a stress-free environment, which was rare.

“what did you say?” you ask again.

“you heard me.” chan takes off his headphones and swivels around in his chair to face you. “i have been stuck for the past fifteen minutes and i need some inspiration.”

you laugh, “does eating me out give you inspiration?”

“maybe,” chan shrugs as he stands up from his chair and picks your laptop up off your lap and places it gently on his desk. “your moans are like music to my ears, and i need to listen to something else than what have been.”

“are you writing another ‘drive’?” you joke and chan laughs. you sit up and move to the edge of the couch where chan meets. he stands between your legs and lifts your chin to look him in the face.

“i might after this,” chan says before pushing his lips against yours. his lips are soft and taste sweet. he quickly starts to kiss down your jawline and to your exposed collarbone.

“i love when you wear my clothes,” he mumbles between kisses. it was raining when you arrived to the studio, which left you freezing and wet. chan, being the kind boyfriend he was, gave you the sweatshirt he was wearing.

he kneels in front of your and puts his hands on your thighs, softly squeezing them. he softly bites down on your collarbone until he leaves a small bruise on the spot, he pulls away and admires the mark.

“so pretty.” he then looks you in the eyes, his soft brown eyes full of lust. “god, you’re so pretty, can i please eat you out now?” he begs.

the way he begs to pleasure you sends a warm feeling to your core. one of your favorite things about chan was that his love language was acts of service. while normally this meant he would do chores for you, hold doors for you, and make appointments for you. it also meant that he would always pleasure you first, usually several times, before himself. many days he would beg to eat you out, today, when you should be working, was no different.

you giggle. “of course.”

“thank you,” he sighs, quickly hooking his fingers under your waist band. you lift your hips off the couch to assist him and he pulls off your sweatpants in one swift motion.

like a starved animal, he quickly pulls your legs apart and licks one long stripe up your core. “god, you taste so fucking good,” he moans to himself.

chan starts lapping at your core. he rotates between tracing circles and sucking on your clit and sliding his tongue as deep in your hole as he can. he then decides he needs to be even closer and wraps his muscled arms around your thighs and pulls your body to his face. this knocks you flat on the couch and you moan in response. he continues to work on your clit, flicking his tongue against the sensitive bud.

“chan, fuck, please don’t stop,” you moan, tangling your hands into his blond hair.

your words of encouragement have him sticking to the pattern of flicking his tongue at your clit and swirling small circles over it. he moans and hums as he sloppily makes out with your cunt.

“chan, please, please, please keep going. i’m gonna cum,” you whine, hips squirming in his strong grip.

without breaking contact with your cunt, chan looks up at you. the look in his innocent eyes sends you over the edge.

“fuck i’m cumming,” you yell. you tighten your grip in his hair and press your leaking cunt against his face, moaning his name loudly as you finish. chan slows his pace, helping work you through your orgasm.

as you release the grip on his hair, chan sits up fully. you notice how blown out his eyes look, his blond, curly hair a mess atop his head, and your glistening slick coating his face. he makes direct eye contact with you as he licks his lips clean and wipes his mouth with his arm. your eyes roll back and your head falls back onto the couch.

chan stands up with your pants in his hands, he folds them nicely before putting them on one of the side tables. he places a kiss to your forehead and picks up your body to lay you the proper way on the couch. he then grabs the blanket from the back of the couch and lays it over your body.

“but babe, what about you-?” you start, propping yourself on your elbows.

“let me finish this song,” he says, sitting back down in his chair and putting his headphones on. “i got my inspiration.”

i need chan to be blond again for my own mental health

@rockstrhanji @hyunjinhoexxx @mixtape-racha @euphoric-univers @haruharu-egypt @shit-why-what @twiggoblin @kookiesbunny @virgohannie @nataliee10 @ihrtlix @aaasia111 @lolli4me @lilcutieana @changbinsrightboob @hanjisunglover @chansducky10 @elissasimp @boi-bi-ahaha @lilquokka04 @anglerfishiey @sirenscall1031 @might-be-a-rat @jihyun2monster @kpflyn @samsmitty @imwithurmother @meilix @summer3sworld @mysweethannie @kittykattime @linoots @yaorzu-blog @sofiaeli

@alemi-i @cupidsmoons @yoongles2025 @vixensss @chlooooop @lemontried @idkluvutellme @superiorbrownskinn @ana-stasssiaaa @amayaaseees @ilikecatsanddoritos @alnex05 @esairevmp @greysweaters-blog @sanzusfavgf @jutannies @faraonatojishady @hanniemylovelyquokka @chloeskzboomboom @quinnluvsmoney @burningupp-replies @aisha-md @jo-dinner @jeannie-beannie @httpsimmy @hazneezs @cuffier

@dvbkie099 @il0v3skz @chrishak@quokkaaah @bex90997 @sheeshhhhfelixsworld @leeknowyah @tumadreposts @hyunniebunni @cipher-ipher @alice630 @jinnies-princess @bangtancultsposts @evrythinghqppened @rebellescauses-blog @juicypebbless @fawnpeaks @the-life-of-stella@lakoya @compersian @seung-mine @mal-lunar-28

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moonstruckme · 8 months

Note

Poly!marauders with a reader who has a hard time explaining (or expressing how she feels) thing??? Like, she knows what to say but she stumbles over her words a lot??

You dont gotta write this obviously, have an amazing day!!!!! <3

Thanks for requesting sweetheart! Hope you had an amazing day too :)

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 784 words

You’re feeling a bit cramped. You’ve got your back to the couch’s armrest and your knees are pressed tight to your chest, feet all but tucked under you to avoid touching James’ thigh. Remus lounges casually on his other side, Sirius sprawled with his legs over the opposite armrest and his head in Remus’ lap. They all look perfectly laidback, spread out and limbs overlapping as they chat about the upcoming quidditch match between Hufflepuff and Slytherin. Meanwhile, you’re afraid to breathe too deeply lest you take up any more space.

“They’ve been having a great season,” James says, but Sirius only scoffs.

“Yeah, but they’ll never work up the guts to play as dirty as Slytherin does,” he argues. “There’s no winning against them if you’re not willing to meet them where they are.”

“We never have, and—here, love, that can’t be comfortable—” James takes you by the ankles, encouraging your legs to lie across his lap. You hold your breath, not daring to move a muscle but allowing him to maneuver you as he likes. “—and as long as I’m captain, we never will. We won against Slytherin fair-in-square this season, why can’t Hufflepuff?”

“You’re delusional.” Sirius rolls his eyes, but then they catch on you interestedly. “Prongs, I think you’ve stupefied her.”

James turns back to you, brown eyes warming with concern. “Sorry, lovely, I didn’t even ask before moving you. Are you comfy now?”

You can feel your face igniting. This thing with them is so new, and you feel always on the brink of doing something that will spoil it. You don’t know what liberties to take, what to say or not say, whereas the boys seem relentlessly self-assured in every respect. You like having your legs spread across James, but part of you feels like you’re not allowed to like it.

“Oh, yeah, um,” you stammer, “I’m good.”

James looks unpersuaded. You don’t blame him; you haven’t done a great job of it. “Are you sure?” he asks. “We’re taking up more than our fair share of space, we can move over if you like.”

You shake your head emphatically.

Mirth sparks to life in Sirius’ eyes as he recognizes your state; it’s the beginning of his favorite game. “What is it, baby? Cat got your tongue?”

“Pads,” Remus chastises, though his own countenance holds evidence of mild amusement, “leave her alone.” He turns his attention to you. “Does it make you uncomfortable when one of us touches you like that, dovey? It’s not a problem if it does, we can stop.”

“No!” you exclaim, half-desperate. “I mean, it’s not not nice, I just didn’t…”

James strokes the skin of your ankle in a way that you’re sure is meant to be reassuring but only unnerves you further. “Didn’t what, sweetheart?”

“I just—I—well, you know—”

“Not sure we do, sweet thing,” Sirius drawls.

“I just—I don’t know,” you say, growing frustrated. “I’m not sure what the rules are, or the…what’re they called? The boundaries, or whatever. I’m not making any sense, sorry.”

“No it’s alright, don’t apologize,” Remus says. “You’re saying that you weren’t sure if you could touch us, right?”

You nod mutely, wondering that the room hasn’t gone up in flames from the heat coming off your face.

Remus nods in turn. “Right, well that’s understandable. None of us have bothered to check in with you, have we?” You’re unsure whether you’re supposed to answer, but Remus goes on, fixing you with a painfully kind look. “I don’t have any reservations about it, and I don’t think James or Sirius do either. Lads?”

“None at all,” James agrees, and Sirius sends you a wink.

“Touch me any way you like, dollface.”

Remus gives you an exasperated look about that, but there’s a good heaping of fondness in it. Then his expression softens again. “What about you, sweetheart?”

You take a moment to fit the words into your mouth. “I’m good with that.”

James makes a sound of teasing endearment, tugging you by the legs so you’re nearly in his lap and squeezing your knee affectionately. “Our shy girl. You know you can tell us these things, don’t you?”

“I know,” you sigh, letting your head come to rest tentatively on his shoulder. “I just…I can’t always—it’s like my mouth won’t cooperate.”

“Do you get nervous, honey?” Sirius wheedles, pouting when you try to use James’ form to hide from him. James chuckles, obliging you by setting a hand on your face, covering you from Sirius’ view. “Why would that be? Are we so scary?”

“Don’t torture her, Pads.” James strokes your cheekbone consolingly. “If she never talks to us about anything again, I’m blaming you completely.”

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babyjakes · 6 months

Text

〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉

event | kinkmas 2023

prompts | exhibitionism + piercing

pairing | soft!daddy!lloyd hansen x little!reader, feat. lloyd's friends: andy barber, ari levinson, ransom drysdale, steve rogers

warnings | ddlg dynamics (lloyd is a soft sweet daddy.) months of no touch/orgasms. clit hood piercing (+ me not knowing much about them.) fivesome with a sixth watching; exhibitionism. fingering (vaginal + anal.) nipple play. clit focus + rubbing. overstimulation. asking permission to come + she comes hard. so much praise and encouragement. probably some light mocking/humiliation. sooo many petnames. aftercare!! :) brief alcohol mention

word count | 1,580

an | sorry for the weird formatting? tumblr wouldn't allow me to use the bulleted list bc of too many characters i think- but ahhh omg the very last kinkmas piece 🥺 this event has been so much fun i hope you've all enjoyed the stuff i've written!! make sure to check out the event masterlist for anything you might've missed and thanks so much for reading along with me this month!! happy holidays and merry christmas to all of you sweet friends 😌💕

thinking about daddy!lloyd piercing your clit hood and then inviting all his friends over to show you off 🫠 piercings do take time to heal so maybe he's away on a trip for a few months after it happens, and when he returns home he has his buddies over to come play with you 😌 you were touch-free for that time period, so by the time the big night comes you're more than ready for some attention down there

lloyd dresses you up in a pretty new dress he got while out on his trip, short with lots of cleavage showing as always. and panties are skipped entirely; they'd just get in the way. he has you wait in your room as he brings his guests in, getting everyone settled in the fancy lounge with drinks and snacks. then he sends one of his servants to bring you down from where you're patiently waiting upstairs

andy, ari, ransom, and steve all coo and fawn adoringly as soon as you appear. you recognize every face in the group quite well; these are your daddy's closest and most trusted friends, the only men he would ever allow near you besides himself. this isn't the first time they've come over to play under lloyd's supervision. while these sessions can be overwhelming with so many players involved, things never get out of hand, as each of your daddy's friends treat you with just as much respect and care as he would, himself

"there's the pretty girl. we've missed you, sweetheart," ari's cooing from his seat on one of the armchairs

"that's a cute little dress, sunshine. s'it new?" ransom winks at you as he stands near your daddy's chair, finishing a glass of scotch

"come on over, doll. your daddy said you have something very special to show us," steve says gently, patting the space on the long leather couch between him and andy

the lawyer nods at the blonde man's words, adding, "come here, honey. got a nice spot saved just for you"

lloyd's on the other couch, across from steve and andy. "go on, princess. they've all been waiting so patiently to see," he encourages you

you find your way over, sitting down obediently between the two broad men. ari comes and sits on the edge of the coffee table in front of you. ransom makes his way behind the couch, gently placing his hands on your shoulders and easing you back a bit

"you wanna show us, angel?" ari asks gently as he leans in a bit, helping the men on either side of you bring your legs up to bend at the knee, your stocking-covered feet falling to either side of you. when you give a timid nod, the skirt of your dress is lifted up to expose your most intimate parts to the eager men surrounding you. a soft gasp is shared as they all lay eyes on your leaking cunt, swollen and sensitive from months of neglect

"aww, little one," steve's murmuring sympathetically at the sight of your arousal

"look at that ring- so pretty, sweet girl," andy marvels at the sight of the gold loop that now runs right through the fleshy hood covering your needy little nub

"your daddy told us it's a very special ring," ari hums steadily as he reaches out and gently spreads your messy folds apart, all of the men watching as your little hole twitches. "it goes right through the hood of your sweet little clit, doesn't it baby?"

"and that means," ransom chimes in from behind as he reaches down into your low-cut top, gently collecting your tits in his hands and squeezing at them, "that every time it moves, it rubs right up against your poor little button. isn't that right, pretty girl?"

you manage to give a shaky nod, a small whimper rising in your throat as the men all close in to finally start giving you the relief you so desperately need. there's no fumbling or hesitation, each of them settling in on their own task to contribute to the system of pleasure

steve brings two huge fingers to line up right at your opening, swirling the tips around briefly in your pool of slick before steadily pushing in. "okay sweetheart, let's get this pretty little pussy nice and filled up"

ransom continues up at your chest, his fingers rubbing and pinching at your pebbled nipples. "there you go, doll face. just relax," he's encouraging as your back arches lightly, making you sink a bit down further into the couch

andy drags some of your plentiful wetness down, carefully teasing the tip of a single digit over your puckered rosebud. he chuckles when you let out a startled whine, his voice low and soothing in tone as he croons, "easy, baby. i'll be gentle, i promise"

and ari seems maybe the most pleased of them all as he begins tapping and tugging gently at the small gold ring settled so perfectly against your now hardened clit. the feeling of the metal bumping and moving against your throbbing button is already more than enough to make you squirm, ari's patient gaze settled on you as he murmurs, "look at that, so responsive, just like always. does that feel good, baby doll? here, i wonder if we just-"

the others continue masturbating you in their various ways as the man before you pulls up on the ring, forcing the hood of your clit back to reveal your swollen little nub. "there it is," ari breathes happily as he steals some of your slick, bringing his thumb up to begin swiping repeatedly over your exposed bundle of nerves as his other hand keeps its hood retracted with the ring

"oh-... o-oh..." you're immediately stumbling over your words, your breaths shuddering as your clit burns brutally beneath ari's quickening pace

"think someone likes that," steve's chuckling beside you as he stretches you out on his fingers, curling them upward to stroke against your weak spot

andy's gathered more of your arousal to coat his pointer finger as he gently begins easing it up into your tight little ass, his eyes shining with pride as you weakly take the intrusion, "yeah? you like that, baby girl? that's it, honey. you're being so good for us"

"let's see if we can make this pretty little girl come for us," ari speaks to the others as your tummy quivers, your little legs shaking on either side of you as the stimulation becomes more and more overwhelming. but as soon as your knees begin trying to close, steve and andy are holding them open, giving you no choice but to lay there against the hot leather and let the men bring you to orgasm

"remember to ask permission, baby," ransom's reminding you as his head leans down next to your ear. the hands all over your body continue, but everyone glances over in lloyd's general direction as he sits just across the coffee table on the opposite couch, watching intently with a hand placed at his chin. one of his big rules for shared play time is that you always get his permission to come

"p-please daddy," your little voice comes out begging as both your holes are fucked forcefully now with large, slippery fingers, your nipples being rolled and rubbed as your clit is flicked in rapid succession. "please, c-can i-... can i-i come?"

lloyd scoots forward a bit, giving a simple nod as he lowers his hand from his face. "go ahead, princess. being so good for daddy's friends, you can come. you've earned it, baby"

as soon as you're allowed, you let go, your orgasm washing over you with impressive force. being the first climax you've had in months, it's quite the sight to be seen

all the praise coming from the men surrounding you blurs together as your holes contract around the fingers still pumping inside you: "oh- there it is" "good, very good, little one" "look at that, coming so hard for us" "keep going, baby. keep coming, that's it" "poor little girl, needed it so bad, huh?" "so cute when she comes, isn't she? such a precious girl"

when the waves of pleasure are finally dying down, their cheers turn to softer, soothing words as their hands still against you: "did so good for us, pretty girl. we're so proud of you" "that feel good, angel? seemed like a pretty big one" "you're okay, sweetheart. here, let's get your daddy over here" “no little one, don’t move. we’ll take care of the mess; you just hang tight”

everything feels like you’re experiencing it through a haze as lloyd comes over with the supplies needed for aftercare. you’re cleaned up and put in a comfy pair of fresh panties, your dress being repositioned on you to cover you up. someone wraps you in a blanket, and soon you’re safe and content in your daddy’s arms

the men all spend the rest of the night doting on you, helping keep you in a tiny headspace where you feel so safe and cared for. you get all the snuggles, tummy rubs, hair strokes, nose and cheek kisses, and gentle loving words you could ever want from each of your daddy’s wonderful friends

wow holy cow i got carried away with this 😮‍💨 all of them at once is so much but like,, , the i need that kind of so much 😔🙏

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mypoisonedvine · 5 months

Note

"I can think of a more fun way you can thank me." + "has anybody else ever made you feel like this?" with mob!bucky

oh, mob!bucky, how I've missed you <3 this turned out pretty um. fucked up tbh

warnings: smut (18+ only!!), oral m receiving and creampie, daddy kink, public sex/exhibitionism, hair pulling, established (sugar daddy) relationship

100 random prompts - send me a number and a character!

"And what do you say when I buy you something pretty, baby?" he purred as he ran his hands over your exposed back-- funny how the dresses he bought you always showed so much skin...

"Thank you, daddy," you cooed in return, bending down to kiss him on the cheek, and he smirked as he spread his legs a bit wider in his chair.

"Doesn't she look great, boys?" he prompted the men around him, who nodded and hollered in agreement. Sometimes it could be hard to get Bucky alone, with all the guards and 'employees' of various ranking always around him. Of course, you had him to yourself every night as long as you were willing to wait for those late night drinking and poker sessions to end-- which you were, you were used to the way he lived. And you were used to the attention of his colleagues, as well, because he loved to show you off to anyone he could.

What you weren't used to was him reaching down to pet your legs suggestively like this, in front of everyone.

"You know, if you wanna thank me," he continued with a raised eyebrow, "I can think of a much more fun way."

You cleared your throat nervously, glancing at the men around you. "O-of course, daddy-- when you come to the penthouse tonight, I'll thank you all night long."

The men snickered, but Bucky wasn't satisfied. "You can thank me here," he decided. "I don't have anything to hide from them."

Your heart raced, but fuck, it turned you on, too. Especially that look in his eyes, you would've done anything he wanted right then. But you wanted to be sure you weren't misunderstanding his intentions. Leaning in, you mumbled quietly: "Do you really want me to... in front of them?"

"Yes," he answered, looking up at you expectantly; and so you kissed him as you started to sink down onto your knees in front of the chair.

Already there were some strong reactions from the men watching you: cheers, laughs, even clapping. It made you feel... several emotions. It made you fucking wet.

You broke the kiss when you were fully on the ground, running your hands up his legs until he moved his hips forward for you to open his belt. "Can I take it out for you, daddy?" you asked sweetly, and he laughed as he nodded.

"Of course, baby," he hummed.

You didn't waste any time-- you freed his cock from his suit trousers, and dove in to lick a long stripe from the base of it to his tip. He got a bit harder in your grasp, putting a hand on the back of your head to guide you to swallow him down.

"Fuck," he groaned, "she's got such a sweet little mouth..."

Your hips shifted, something sexy and filthy about the way he was talking to them instead of you. But, he did address you next.

"Show them how you can take it all, sweetheart," he encouraged, "show them what daddy taught you."

You bobbed your head lower until your lips were at his base, and his tip was pressing into your throat. They made sounds of awe and amusement, watching him hold your head down and fuck up into your mouth until you gagged loudly. He held you down for one more moment before letting you breathe again-- you pulled back and looked up at him as you sucked in air sharply. "Is that good, daddy?"

"Yes, babydoll," he assured, "you can keep going."

You got back to it, though he gave you a little more control this time, and you used it to bring your hand around him and stroke the rest of his cock while you sucked him. You still deepthroated him when you could, just with breaks in between; all while he bragged about you to his men.

"See how obedient she is?" he announced smugly. "She'll do anything for me. Such a good little girl for daddy."

They certainly seemed to agree: you heard someone say "I bet she is" and someone else notice "she really knows how to suck a cock, huh?"

Just when you thought you were doing well, Bucky grabbed you by your hair and pulled you off of him; before you could ask what he was doing or if you'd done something wrong, he stood up and bent you over the table roughly, slamming you down hard enough to make the poker chips and cards bounce. "Sorry, baby," he growled as you whined, "you can't get daddy all worked up like that and not expect any consequences."

He was still pinning you down by your neck with one hand while the other pulled up the bottom of your dress to expose your ass-- no panties, just like he'd told you when you left to try on the new dress. He slammed his cock inside you, making you cry and arch your back as he fucked you brutally against the table. Some of the men were still seated around it, and you shut your eyes tight so you wouldn't have to make eye contact with any of them.

"She's such a good girl for me," he praised again, "always ready to take my cock. Isn't that right, dollface? You let daddy fuck you whenever he wants?"

You nodded as you whimpered, and the men laughed. "She's so cute," one of them noticed, "no wonder he can't keep his hands off her."

"And she likes it when daddy gets rough," Bucky added with a low laugh, and you moaned louder. "Uh huh, I know, babydoll-- you love being mine so much..."

"Daddy!" you yelped as he started to pump even faster-- he certainly wasn't pulling any punches. Probably because he knew what it did to you. "Daddy, m'gonna come!"

"See how easy she is?" he smiled. "Fuck, she can't help it, she just loves getting used so much. You can come, baby, nice and loud so everybody can hear you."

"Fuck, daddy, fuck!" you moaned, legs shaking as the feeling hit you hard and sudden. You hadn't expected at all how easily you would come from this-- if anything you thought it would be harder with all these eyes on you.

You would've collapsed if you weren't being held against that table by his painfully-tight grip on your hair. "Fuck, she squeezes me so good when she comes," Bucky growled, "this cunt really knows how to treat a cock."

He seemed to be going even deeper inside of you, if that was possible, and you felt your own wetness starting to run down your legs.

"I'm close, baby, I'm fuckin' close," he warned with another tug on your hair. "You want daddy to come?"

"Yes," you whimpered.

"You want daddy's come deep inside you?"

"Yes!"

"Fuck, fuck," he groaned, and all at once he stopped, grunting through his teeth as he filled you as deep as he could go. "Fuck, babydoll... god, look how pretty you looking getting filled with come... doesn't she look pretty, boys?"

He slowly pulled out of you, but put both his hands on your ass to spread it out and get a better view of your hole.

"Damn, look't that," he praised, "can't hardly tell daddy just beat you up, you're still so tight. Push it out, honey, I want them to see how good daddy filled you."

Your face was so hot now you honestly thought you might melt-- and you kept your eyes shut tight to hide from the embarrassment-- but you heard the men leaning and looking around you to get a glimpse as you flexed your muscles to push his come out of you.

You felt a thick drop run down from your opening, and they all reacted aloud. "Good, sweetie, keep going," Bucky praised, and you whimpered as you pushed more and an even bigger wave oozed out of you.

The men couldn't keep their mouths shut now. "Damn, that's a lot of come." "She really does whatever he says." "Look at it running down her legs, what a whore." "You can tell she likes it too, look-- fucking slut."

Bucky guided you to stand up straight again, pulling your dress down to cover your ass. You blinked your eyes open, though you couldn't be too surprised as the lascivious stares of all the men in front of you. "You did so good, baby," Bucky praised softly in your ear, holding you close from behind. "They all want you so fucking bad, hm? But whose are you, doll?"

"Yours, daddy," you answered weakly.

"That's right, sweetheart," he cooed as he kissed you on the cheek, "you belong to me."

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #mob!bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky barnes smut

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pumpkinbxtch · 4 days

Note

Can you plzz do a percy smut where he only rubs the readers clit bc the reader is too scared to finger herself, but then she gets the courage to finger herself and charles shows her how to do it??

confidence

— percy jackson x fem!reader

warnings; recommended for +18, smut and nsfw things happening.

tags; fingering, language, the reader is inexperienced, angst if you squint, A little dom!percy but he's really sweet a/n; so yeah, it had to being percy the first smut request ever, thanks it's the first time so please forgive me if i failed, lol. I will improve, I swear

"You're doing so well..." he murmured a few inches from your ear, sending a shiver down your spine that made you press even closer to his chest.

The room was filled only with the dim light of the setting sun and the sweet sounds Percy coaxed from you as his fingers massaged your clit under your already soaked panties. The constant movement of his fingertips on that sweet spot had you lifting your hips, seeking more, but he kept you in check, placing his free hand on your tummy and planting wet kisses on your neck.

"Such an impatient girl," your boyfriend whispered playfully, and you felt his smile on your cheek as he gathered your juices. That brief moment near your entrance made your pussy clench painfully around nothing, increasing your desperation. You squirmed on his lap, eliciting a growl from him due to the hard bulge pressing against your lower back. Yet, what you desired didn't happen.

"Uh, Percy... please."

The dark-haired man clicked his tongue repeatedly in disapproval and deliberately slowed his movements. Your whines became audible as you lifted your hips again, trying to find relief on your own. Instead, your boyfriend pressed you back against him, making you whimper softly.

"I know, I know," he said apologetically while nibbling on your ear, his own hips grinding against you, trying to alleviate some of the growing pain. Percy loved hearing you, especially when you seemed so needy. "But this is the only way, sweetheart..."

And you knew it. You knew what game you were playing, but your sensation-clouded mind was working against—or maybe for—you. It was something you wanted, and he was helping you with it, as you'd never been able to touch yourself more than superficially.

Percy's fingers brushed toward your entrance, and he chastely dipped his fingertips in. A moan began to form in your throat, and your heartbeat quickened.

"Please," you mewled pathetically, and he kissed your cheek warmly. Taking your hand, which had been clutching the sheets, he placed it on your pussy.

"If you want it so badly, you'll have to do it yourself, princess."

Those were the words you had hoped deep down would never be said, but you were so worked up you didn't know if you could resist trying. In a second, with his hand still guiding you, your fingers replaced Percy's, which had moved to your top to play with your breasts.

"Need some help, sweetheart?" he asked while tightening his grip on your hips. You nodded slightly, your heart about to burst.

"Words."

"Yes," you breathed.

Not long after his hips encouraged you to do so, your fingers finally entered, and stars filled your vision. It was the first time you could feel yourself, becoming a mess of moans and babbles as your boyfriend continued to touch you elsewhere, making the tension in your stomach grow, threatening to explode.

"Oh, now you know, huh?" Percy whispered in your ear, breathless, his eyes fixed on the spectacle you provided. "You know why I go crazy every time I'm inside you, because you're so damn tight."

At his words, it was inevitable that your walls clenched again, this time around your fingers, and you let out a loud moan that almost made your boyfriend come just from watching you. You whimpered and pumped your fingers, knowing you wouldn't last long with the new sensation. When you finally closed your eyes tightly, your body tensing completely, Percy knew you had succeeded.

He helped you handle the overwhelming emotion, hugging you tightly and whispering sweet things in your ear.

"That's right, Angel," he said before giving you another kiss on the cheek, your weight now almost entirely on his chest. "You just had to have a little confidence."

#maría's shared dreams☆｡ﾟ✧#pjo hoo toa #heroes of olympus #percy jackson #percy jackson smut #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson fic #percy jackson fluff #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #pjo x you #pjo #hoo x you #hoo x reader #percy jackson fanfiction #percy jackson and the heroes of olympus #percy jackson and the olympians

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javier-pena · 23 days

Text

quicksand

Pairing: Pedro's unnamed character in Materialists x f!reader

Word Count: 8.2k

Rating: Explicit

Summary: You meet a stranger at a party.

Notes: Last week I saw these behind the scenes shots of Pedro in Materialists and somehow I had to write 8,000 words about that? I'm also not quite sure what happened, it was supposed to be like 3k max. There was also this ask Han @swiftispunk received that I couldn't get out of my head. The title is inspired by Ms Swift's song Treacherous (And I'll do anything you say / If you say it with your hands / And I'd be smart to walk away / But you're quicksand), the rest is inspired by going completely feral whenever new pictures dropped. Tremendous thanks to Dani @alexturner who just beta'd a long-ass fic last week and then this fic this week - you're being way too good to me with indulging all thoughts I have that I have to turn into short stories 🫣 My dear, sweet anon who kept sending me encouraging asks, this is for you!!

***

There’s laughter coming from downstairs, deep, rumbling laughter impossible to ignore. Your whole body seems to shake with it, your heart stutters in your chest angrily, and you press your hands over your ears. But the loud voices are still there, mocking you with their indifference to your pain. You bury your face in your cool satin pillow and sob into it, ruining the expensive fabric. You don’t fucking care.

All your friends warned you this would happen and you hate how they were right. “You’re nothing but a toy to him.” Shut up, Marissa, you’re just jealous. “Maybe you should look for a boyfriend who’s closer to you in age.” Maybe you should look for a boyfriend, period. “You’re only a fuckmaid to him, do you realize that?” That was the point you stopped listening to them and, at the same time, it was the point you should have started listening.

You are nothing but a toy to him. You should have looked for someone closer to you in age. You are … no, you can’t bring yourself to even think the word, because the truth hurts too much. The truth and your blindness and your stupidity and the fact that you’re throwing your life away for a man who breaks every promise he makes and who treats you like a pet. A beautiful, expensive pet that can be ignored whenever it’s convenient.

“Come with me to the Keys,” he whispered into your ear, his breath hotter than his steadily cooling release sticking to your thighs.

“What?” you asked, heart clenching painfully. When was the last time he cared enough to make you come? Months ago?

“Come with me to the Keys,” he repeated. “The change of scenery will be good for us. I’ll show you around. We can go deep sea fishing. I’ll buy you some dresses and bathing suits. Just take my card tomorrow.”

He brushed your hair away from your neck, kissed the skin there, cupped one of your breasts, squeezed it hard. “Piers,” you warned, tried to get away from him. But there was nowhere to go.

The truth is you had been looking forward to his trip. Had been looking forward to having the apartment to yourself for a while. It’s not like you would’ve done anything in particular except just breathe for once.

“Don’t be like that,” he mumbled against your neck, squeezed your breast again. “Don’t you want to sip on a nice cocktail? Wear a risqué outfit for me?”

No, you didn’t want that. But if you didn’t say yes soon, he’d get angry. “Okay,” you gave in. “But you have to promise me that you’ll spend one day with me. No business.”

What’s easily promised is easily broken.

Today is supposed to be your day. And for once in your life, you thought it would be. Piers took you out for breakfast, right by the water. You watched the sunshine dance across the waves. Then he showed you around town, took you to his favorite spots in Key West, even held your hand. And you thought, This is it. I’m finally worthy of him. Then came the call, followed by those emails, and suddenly Piers was like, “Sorry, babe, I have to meet them, they’re important business partners. Why don’t you go to the beach club, buy yourself a nice massage? Here’s my card.”

Here's my card. You’ve never hated three words more.

What you didn’t expect was to come home to a party. At least twenty men were milling around the house Piers liked to refer to as his “Key West Residence”, a late 19th century villa. Twenty loud men, rich like Piers, most of them his age, leering at you as you stepped through the front door, mistaking you for tonight’s entertainment.

“Babe!” Piers boomed, spilling half his drink while opening his arms as if he meant to hug you. The glances didn’t stop. “Go upstairs, freshen up, put on something nice, and then let me show you off.”

You managed to complete the first step before breaking down on your bed. You’ve been sobbing ever since.

Something breaks downstairs and some of the men roar. You bury your face deeper against the pillow, terrified to go back downstairs, terrified to stay up here. Whatever you do, it will be the wrong thing. You close your eyes and think about what it would be like if the men downstairs vanished. If you had the house to yourself, sharing it with a person you loved and who loved you in return. You could be having dinner on the patio now. Before that, you might go for a swim in the pool, knowing the only eyes on you were your partner’s, the only glances you received were welcome.

You sit up straight. You might hate it when Piers’ business partners look at you like you’re a piece of meat, but Piers hates it too if they don’t do it without being invited. Twenty men imagining all the vile ways in which they could fuck you is the last thing you want right now, but it’s also the last thing Piers wants.

You stumble into the bathroom and wash your face with ice cold water, willing the puffiness of your eyes to recede. You put on your most expensive makeup, the kind that only comes off with intensive scrubbing, then you pick your most revealing bikini and put it on. If those men stared at you like that in a long sundress, their heads will probably explode if they see you like this.

Chin held high, beach towel thrown over your shoulder, you make your way downstairs on high heels the same shade of black as your bikini. You feel utterly stupid, like you’re giving them exactly what they want, but the flush that spreads across Piers’ cheeks when he sees you is worth it. There are some whistles, a few crude comments, one man slaps your ass, but you make it to the pool. None of them are brave enough to follow you outside.

The water is cool against your skin, doing its best to extinguish the fire that burns within you. The flames don’t die down completely but they’re certainly soothed. You start to swim, one length, then three, and soon the party resumes and the men pick up their conversations again. This almost feels normal; this almost feels like a life you could enjoy. Except that you’re alone. And not in a way you crave.

You stop swimming and start drifting on your back, watching the sky above turn from a gentle blue into a soft pink, a bright orange, a deep purple. Soon, the sun will go down and the party will pick up speed. You should go, put on a dress, let Piers show you off, vanish before they’ve had too much alcohol.

You climb out of the pool, squeeze water out of your hair, wrap the towel around yourself. No one is paying attention to you now, so you pick up your heels to carry them back upstairs. There’s no way you’ll make it back to your room without one or two unwanted glances, without the odd rude comment, but you can live with that. You step onto the patio, eyes firmly fixed on your destination, then start walking through the gathering, careful not to look at anyone, careful not to be seen.

Someone sees you though. It’s not Piers, and it also isn’t one of the men who look at you and lick their lips. It’s someone watching you from the shadows, someone on one of the chairs in the parlor. Keep your eyes on the stairs, you tell yourself. Nothing good can come from this. While you were in the pool, Piers must have turned on the music, old jazz songs he always plays when he wants to appear sophisticated. The tinny sounds of saxophones make your ears ring, irritating you more than the heavy smell of cigar smoke that seems to be seeping into every corner of the house. You feel horrible between all those men dressed in their suits, even with the towel covering most of your skin. And you wish that one man would stop watching you because it makes you feel hunted, makes your body beg to run and hide.

At the foot of the stairs you pause, your heart in your throat. A man brushes past you, pretending like there is only so little room he has to press his palm against the small of your back. You turn around looking for Piers, ready to pretend you have a horrific migraine and won’t be joining him after all, when your eyes land on the man who is making the hair at the back of your neck stand with his unrelenting gaze.

You can’t see him properly because he’s half hidden behind the door to the parlor, a room that’s devoid of proper lighting and full of cigar smoke. But you see his dark eyes on you, feel them look right through you, see you for who you are, while he laughs at something the man next to him is saying. You crane your neck to get a better look at him but two other men walk past, obscuring your view. When they spot you and start to make their way toward you, you bolt up the stairs. At least no one will dare to follow you up here.

*******

“There she is!” Piers announces later, opening his arms wide again. He doesn’t spill his drink this time. You step into his embrace and let him kiss your cheek. “Took you long enough, doll.” You hate it when he calls you that, but you keep on smiling. Then he leans closer and whispers, “If you ever pull a stunt like that again, I’ll make sure you’ll regret it. Letting another man touch you! What’s wrong with you?”

So it did bother him after all. It should make you feel proud, but it only makes you feel empty. “I’m sorry,” you whisper back and kiss him. Someone at the back of the room whistles.

“Just try to behave for the rest of the night,” he says coldly, then smiles at you and asks in his loud business voice, “Isn’t she lovely?”

Some of the men nod but none dare to look at you directly. Not when Piers has his arm slung around your shoulder anyway.

“How about a drink?” he asks you and when you nod, he takes your hand and leads you toward the bar at the back of the parlor. You follow him, shivering slightly from the evening breeze blowing in through the open French doors. The smoke in the room makes your eyes sting.

With practiced ease, Piers fills a sparkling glass with vodka and soda, adding a bit of lime juice. You try to ignore the man who is standing a little bit too close to you, whose eyes hang a little bit too low.

“Here you are.” Piers hands you the glass. “I have something to discuss with those gentlemen over there,” he nods at two men standing by the door to his study, “but I shouldn’t be too long. Try not to cause too much of a scene while I’m gone.”

You close your fingers around the glass and nod. All you want to do is run.

As soon as he’s gone, they start to close in on you. It’s what Piers wants. He wants others to desire what belongs to him – his apartment, his car, his life. You’re part of all of that. He wants these men to desire you, to think they can have you. You should have listened to your friends, to Marissa and Annie and all the others. If you had, you might hate yourself less.

You know they all want to talk to you and they won’t take no for an answer, so you start to make your way toward the open French doors to escape into the garden. If you stand right at the edge, you can hear the waves whisper and feel the ocean breeze on your face. And if you keep still long enough, they might forget about you.

You don’t even make it out the door before your eyes start to wander from the lush green bushes and trees outside and land on a man sitting in a leather armchair close to the open doors. You don’t know if it’s the same one whose gaze you felt on you earlier, but there’s something about him that makes it hard for you to look away. He’s in the middle of a conversation, one leg comfortably slung across the other, ankle resting against thigh. One of his hands is spread on his knee, his fingers stroking and tapping the expensive fabric of his back dress pants in a nervous tick. His other hand is wrapped around a glass full of amber liquid that he takes a swig from right as you walk past, pretending not to notice how the muscles in his neck work as he swallows, pretending not to notice the gold ring on his little finger that clinks against the glass as he lowers it again.

Your own drink untouched, you stand on the patio, off to the side where you hope no one will notice you but where you can look at that stranger from time to time. You don’t think you’ve seen him before, but you don’t usually pay a lot of attention to Piers’ associates. None of the men here this evening look familiar. Still, there is something about the way this man runs his fingers through his dark curls from time to time, the way he tries to smooth the wrinkles in his white shirt, the way he takes a drag from a big, dark brown cigar once in a while that makes it impossible for you to look away. Until another man demands your attention.

“Hi there,” he says, his laugh showing off perfectly straight, perfectly white teeth. “I’m Hutton.”

You think about saying, “And I’m not interested,” but to Piers that would probably count as causing a scene. And Hutton looks like he’s one of the younger men here, probably in his late 30s. There are worse guys to talk to. “Hi,” you reply with a sweet smile.

“Lovely evening, isn’t it?” He steps closer to you, encouraged by your smile.

“Yes,” you reply. “So how do you know Piers?”

If he’s annoyed by you bringing up your boyfriend right away, he doesn’t let it show. “We work together,” he answers, which could mean anything in Piers’s world.

“And what brings you to Key West?”

“The scenery,” Hutton answers, not even trying to hide his hungry gaze that glides over your naked shoulders and cleavage.

“I thought it was business,” you say, your smile faltering slightly. “Seeing you’re here.”

“I try not to mix business with pleasure.” Hutton leans against the small sliver of wall between the French doors and the corner of the house. “It’s neither good for business nor pleasure.”

You hum, trying to take a step back. You’re already at the edge of the patio though, and you almost stumble off it, losing your footing.

Hutton grabs your arm and pulls you toward him. “Careful there, pretty girl.”

You try to pull your arm back but he won’t let go. “Thank you,” you say at the same time as he says, “Have you ever thought about exchanging Piers for a younger model?”

It didn’t take him more than a few words exchanged to get to the point.

You yank your arm free but he grabs it again. “Stop it,” you command in your strictest voice but he only grins at you.

“Don’t be like this. I’m only fooling around.”

“Then let go of me.” He doesn’t.

You’re about to throw your drink in his face, even if it means Piers will be angry with you again, when someone steps out onto the patio.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

He’s standing right there, one hand in the pocket of his dark pants, the other holding his cigar. Shame washes over you and your palms grow sweaty. You really don’t need this right now. But Hutton immediately lets go of you and turns to face the newcomer.

“We’re good here, thanks,” he says, his jaw clenched.

The stranger takes his time to take a drag on his cigar, lets out the smoke while looking up at the now deep purple evening sky. “It’s a lovely evening, isn’t it?” he asks and Hutton lets out a sigh.

“Are you just going to keep standing there?” he asks.

The stranger shrugs.

You glance into the parlor, at all the men milling about, wondering if you could make your escape without anyone noticing. But there is something in the way the stranger holds himself that makes you want to stay and find out how this ends. Piers, by now, would have rushed past Hutton, a snarl on his lips, his anger directed at you. The stranger just stands there, his shoulders relaxed, acting as if he doesn’t even particularly care that you and Hutton are out here on the patio as well. It’s a different kind of threat … a different kind of protectiveness.

Hutton turns to you. “Are you coming?”

You shake your head and with a roll of his eyes and an annoyed, “Whatever,” he vanishes into the house, leaving you alone with him.

The silence unbearable, you say, “Thank you.”

He takes another drag on his cigar, then comes closer to you. You ignore how your heart flutters at his approach. He reaches for your hand and for a wild moment you think he’s going to grab your arm too, but he only takes the drink from your hand, sniffs the contents of the glass, then dumps it over the edge of the patio. “Let’s get you a proper drink,” he says.

You’re too stunned to do much more than follow him back into the house and toward the bar. Around you, the volume has risen since you stepped out onto the patio, but you don’t care as much as you did before. It’s hard to care about anything when your stomach is in a tight knot and when you feel like the world around you has gone completely quiet.

The man steps behind the bar, gently places his cigar in an ashtray, then regards the collection of bottles before him with his hands on his hips. “You don’t look like a vodka girl to me,” he mumbles, and you feel your face grow hot. You don’t know why. “Here.” He pulls out a bottle of whiskey and a bottle of vermouth. You only now notice how big his hands are, and your mind immediately starts to replay the evening. His hand on his knee, his hand around his glass, his hand … You shake your head, but the shiny gold ring on his little finger glitters enticingly as he unscrews the bottle of vermouth to smell the alcohol within. It’s like you’re a magpie, enchanted by everything that glitters.

“Sweet enough,” he concludes, pouring a little vermouth and a lot of whiskey into a martini glass. Then he goes through all the bottles once more until he finds one of lavender bitter and adds it to the mix.

“What is that?” you ask.

He shakes his head. “I’m not done yet.” There’s a small jar of cocktail cherries he unscrews. With skilled movements, he skewers two of them onto a silver cocktail stick before handing you the glass. The mix inside is orange on top, a reddish purple deeper below. It looks like the sunset you watched earlier.

“What is it?” you ask again.

“Taste it,” he tells you, an eager glint in his eyes.

You take a careful sip and widen your eyes in surprise at the strong yet sweet taste. “Oh, this is really good!”

“It’s sweet, like you,” he says, then seems to change his mind, adopting a matter-of-fact tone of voice. “It’s a Manhattan. That’s where you belong, not in this tourist trash kind of town.”

That makes you laugh. “Hey, I like it here.”

The bar is still between you but he leans on it to get closer to you. “I bet you would also like Manhattan if I showed you around.”

“I’m from Manhattan,” you tell him. “I live there, actually.”

“I do too,” he responds. “Funny how we should run into each other here, of all places.”

You inhale shakily. You don’t know why. “If you hate it here so much, what are you doing here?”

He smiles at you, and you’re sure your heart stops. “I heard you talk to that other guy. I’m not here to have a conversation like that with you.”

You take another sip from your cocktail even though it makes your head spin. “What are you here for then?”

“That’s just another way of asking me what I’m doing here, angel eyes,” he points out. He does it so smoothly you almost don’t notice the diminutive.

You straighten your back, only now realizing you were leaning on the bar close to him. He mirrors you, then walks around the wood between you so he can stand directly next to you. “You tell me what you want to talk about then. After all, you approached me, you made me a drink, you wanted to whisk me off to Manhattan.”

“That was before I realized how worldly you are,” he says and his smile turns sly.

“Oh?” you make. You swallow. “Am I too difficult for you then?”

“I like a challenge.”

This is where you should stop. This is where you should thank him again for rescuing you, and for the drink, and where you should walk away to find your boyfriend, who surely has to be done with his meeting by now. But how can you step away when he’s still smiling at you as if he’s having the time of his life, when you felt drawn to him all evening, when having his eyes on you makes you feel truly seen? Yes, he isn’t exactly subtle in the way he flirts with you, but there is a kindness in his gaze you’ve never seen on another man before. And then he touches you, straightening the strap of your short, tight dress, and your whole body comes alive.

“You know smoking is bad for you, right?” is the only thing you can come up with, willing your voice to remain steady.

“I like things that are bad for me,” he replies.

It’s such a cheesy line, it makes you want to bury your face in your hands. But, god, does talking to him make you feel good.

“Ha!” He points at you. “That’s the first genuine smile I’ve seen all evening.

“Call me ‘sweet’ again and you might see some more,” you retort. All you want to do is to tell him you don’t mind his harmless flirting, that whatever this is between you is fun, but it comes out heavy with implications. Implications you can’t take back because you don’t want to.

He brushes your hair behind your ear and you think you might die. “You’re very brave.” It’s a statement. “I saw you walk to the pool earlier in –”

“I know,” you interrupt him. “I saw you watching me.”

He brushes his thumb over your bottom lip. “It made me want to kiss you.”

You freeze. There is nothing you can say that won’t end badly for you. “So you made me a drink instead?”

He plucks the cocktail stick out of your glass and holds it up to your mouth. You close your lips around the first cocktail cherry and pull it off slowly, your eyes fixed to his. It might just be the low lighting but you think his pupils dilate. He drops the stick back into the glass and takes a big swig of your drink, his eyes momentarily leaving yours. You do your best not to watch his throat as he swallows.

“You really are something,” he concludes, putting down the glass on the bar.

You feel lightheaded, as if you’d just made out with him for half an hour. “I’m also in a relationship.” The words are out before you can stop yourself. You didn’t mean to say them.

“I don’t give a damn.”

You giggle, actually giggle, like a schoolgirl with a crush. “You sound like the hero in one of those ancient black-and-white movies.”

“Or maybe I’m the villain.”

This time you do bury your face in your hands. “Oh, stop it.”

“No,” he simply says, and you get it. You want to kiss him too.

Instead, you glance at the small gold wrist watch on your arm. “It’s late. I should –”

He interrupts you. “Don’t –,” but you don’t let him finish.

“Thank you for the drink. And thank you for making me laugh. You made this whole thing bearable.”

You don’t know if you should shake his hand or kiss his cheek so you don’t do any of it. You pat his arm, once, trying not to notice how it feels against your palm, then walk toward the stairs, your heart breaking with each step. If you were single, you wouldn’t have hesitated to sleep with this man. If you weren’t Piers’ girlfriend, he would never have looked your way. It’s better to end it here.

The quietness of your room engulfs you, just like the soothing coolness of the pool earlier. As soon as you close the door behind you and lean against it, you can breathe. Yes, you can still hear the sounds of the party, but they’re muffled. You can finally hear yourself think again and you exhale shakily. You almost made the biggest mistake of your life. The adrenaline rush you got from it makes you snicker.

Piers isn’t entirely faithful. He attends parties with strippers, he looks at other women, you know all that. But it doesn’t mean anything because at the end of the day he comes home to you. What you just did … it goes beyond everything Piers has ever done, and you wouldn’t have been able to look at yourself in the mirror if you had spent one more minute in the presence of that handsome stranger. Even if your flirting made you happier than Piers has in months.

There’s a knock at your door and you jump. Expecting Piers, you open it without a second thought. “I’ll be right …,” you start but forget every word in the English language when you come face to face with the stranger.

“Hello,” he says, and that handsome smile is back on his face, even if he keeps a careful distance. “You vanished so quickly it made me wonder … did I do something wrong?”

“What?” you ask because it’s the only word you can remember.

“I’ll go back downstairs if you don’t want me here,” he goes on, “just say the word.”

They never come up the stairs. Never. Who does he think he is? “You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just tired.” You try to close the door in his face, but he steps closer, bracing a hand against the wooden doorframe. “Excuse me,” you say insistently.

“Can I come in?”

Into your room? “Oh, I don’t think that would be a good idea,” you reject him. You laugh, but it sounds insincere. “You should go back downstairs.”

“Alright,” he agrees, “but you have to say it like you mean it.”

“Listen here,” you start in your best no-nonsense voice. He tightens his grip on the wood and you hear it creak, despite the noise downstairs. “I want you to …”

It’s no use. You don’t know who he is, you don’t even know his name, but you also know that if you don’t let yourself have this, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.

“You need to say the words, sweet –”

“I want you to kiss me.”

You both freeze. His mouth hangs open, still in the middle of forming the next word he wanted to say. You tense, well aware that you said something you can not take back.

The few seconds that pass feel like an eternity. Then he pushes himself past the doorframe into your room, into your personal space. You smell the heavy scent of cigar smoke on him, you smell leather and lavender and citrus. You see his smile that turns into something more determined the closer he gets to you. You notice the stubble on his cheek, the glint in his eyes, the small dark spot on the collar of his white shirt. You feel … you feel his body pressing against yours, his hand pressing against the small of your back, his breath on your face, and then everything is reduced to his lips on yours, your breaths mingling, his … his tongue coaxing you open, not gently but insistent, and you not hesitating to open yourself up for him.

It's as if you’re watching it all from above, you pushing him backward, him closing the door with a hard slam, the both of you pulling at each other while kissing and kissing and …

“Careful,” he chuckles when you bite down on his bottom lip. “You said kiss, not –”

“I don’t give a fuck what I said,” you interrupt him, pulling his shirt out of his pants.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he says and grabs your wrist.

You groan. “Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts.”

He pulls you in for another kiss. “I’m not. You’re just … We’re doing this on my terms or not at all.”

Something throbs deep within your core.

He tightens his hold on you. “I’ve had all evening to think about this. To picture all the things I want to do to you.”

“It’s not going to be just kissing then?” you ask, relishing the chuckle you draw out of him.

“I knew I wouldn’t leave here tonight without feeling your pretty little cunt clench around me.”

It sounds like a line straight out of a porn movie. You should laugh, tell him to take you seriously. But all you can do is whimper at the thought of him sitting in his chair downstairs, talking to one of Piers’ associates or even Piers himself while thinking about being buried deep inside of you. Every other man would send you fleeing. Not him though.

“Who are you?” you whisper.

“Does it matter? Once I’m done with you, you’ll have forgotten your own name.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. “Those are some big words,” you point out.

He lets go of your wrist, then bunches the fabric of your dress up in his hand until he can reach below the hem, his broad, warm hand landing on your naked skin, his ring digging into your soft flesh. You gasp.

“Do you really think I’d disappoint you?”

“No,” you say too quickly, too rashly.

He grabs your dress again. “How about you take this off for me?”

“No,” you repeat, biting the inside of your cheek so you don’t laugh at the look of shock on his face. Then you turn around. “I can’t really open the zipper without some assistance.”

He runs both his hands over your naked shoulders and down to the middle of your back. You expect him to take his time, but he yanks the zipper down so quickly you think you hear fabric tear. You almost don’t have enough time to slip out of the thin shoulder straps before he falls to his knees behind you, pulling the dress with him. His hands are on your butt cheeks now, massaging, grabbing you as if he’s set on memorizing every detail. He slips his thumb under the hem of your panties, dips the tip into the wetness there.

You gasp at the same time as he whispers, “Knew it.”

You pull him away from you and turn around, well aware you’re completely naked except for your panties. “Well, it’s hardly surprising,” you start, your voice airy, but then it dies down completely at the sight of him kneeling in front of you looking up at you with so much heat in his gaze you’re getting burned. How did you get here?

You want him to tease you back, but he only pulls you close, his hands clasping your hips insistently, and kisses your belly, right above the hem of your panties. Then he kisses your thighs and your sides, and your belly button, and then he pulls down your panties and buries his face in your wetness with a relieved sigh. Your hands shoot forward and grab his curls, dig into them, desperate for purchase, as your head swims from the overstimulation. You would like to focus on the feeling of his hair between your fingers. You would like to focus on his tongue swirling around your clit. You would like to focus on the growl he makes when you run your nails over his scalp.

You think you’re laughing. You think you say, “Does that still count as kissing?”

“Yes,” he mumbles against the soft skin of your thighs. His curls are already a mess, his face is flushed, but when he glances up at you, his eyes are bright with determination.

“I think you have to show me that definition of kissing someday,” you go on, glancing up at the ceiling. You can’t look at him directly, it feels too intimate.

“That’s enough talking,” he decides and licks a broad stripe across your drenched folds.

You tighten your grip on his curls in response because your legs start to quiver. You hope he doesn’t notice, but his fingers dig into your thighs to steady you. The edges of his ring are cutting into you almost painfully – you want more of it. His hair wrapped around your fingers you pull him closer into you and he moans against you … actually moans. You push away those thoughts that make you compare him to Piers, how Piers would never moan if he was between your legs, how Piers never eats you out. This isn’t about him – it’s about you.

There’s something in the way that stranger rolls and flicks his tongue that tells you he won’t make you wait for an orgasm. You want to hold on longer because you can’t bear the thought of this being over already, but there is something in the way he devours you that pushes you toward the edge at a rapid speed. You don’t even hear the sounds of the party anymore, the laughter, the music; it’s just him and his deep sighs and moans.

You’re almost embarrassed by how fast you come. One second you’re appreciating the way his tongue flicks your clit, the next you can barely stay upright when your whole body releases months and months of built-up tension. You quiver in his grip and he holds you close, licking and licking until you can’t take it anymore. You think you mumble, “Fuckfuckfuck,” but there is no way to be sure. All you know is that you just had one of the best orgasms of your life.

You laugh as if the weight of the world has been lifted off your shoulders. What else is there to do? “So this is doing things on your terms?” you ask.

He sits back on his heels and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. You think you might explode at that sight. “No, that was for your benefit. The rest is going to be for mine.”

Your breath catches in your throat as you glance over your shoulder at your bed that’s rumpled from you crying on it earlier. If he can make you feel like that with just his tongue, what will he be –

“No, sugar, not like that,” he tells you, immediately pulling your attention back to him.

Your throat is dry when you ask, “What then?”

He stands and cups your cheek, his hand pleasantly warm. You lean into the touch immediately. “Don’t be so impatient. Enjoy the moment for a while.”

“What moment …?” you start but you don’t get far. He claims your mouth in a searing kiss that makes you wish you had been paying more attention to what he was doing when he was eating you out. You kiss him back, slinging your arms around his neck, the soft fabric of his white shirt rubbing against your naked chest. He licks across your bottom lip until you open your mouth for him, and then he claims you like no one has before. You fear that if you start thinking about how you can taste yourself on him, you’ll go insane.

“You’re so easy to kiss,” he mumbles against your lips. You’re not quite sure how he means it, but your chest still expands at the compliment.

“And you’re very handsome,” you retort lamely.

“Is that what you’ve been thinking about telling me all evening?”

“No,” you reply too slowly this time.

He kisses your temple, then brings his mouth right next to your ear. “I’ve been thinking about watching myself fuck you.”

He doesn’t give you time to process, takes you over to the vanity that stands opposite your bed, its mirror dull in the dim light of the room. Even when he places your hands on the table top, telling you to hold on, you still don’t think he’s serious. You look at yourself in the mirror, at the makeup smudges below your eyes, the birth mark on your throat that you hate, how your mouth hangs open in a way that looks so very unsexy. Behind you, that stranger you invited into your room, this man you know nothing about, is unbuttoning his expensive dress pants, his white shirt obscuring the view. What does he see in you that makes him want you like this?

“Do you know what you’re doing to me?” he groans, his eyes fluttering shut.

He’s holding himself now, but you can’t see his hand moving without turning around. And he didn’t tell you you’re allowed to look. Your palms begin to sweat against the wooden surface of the vanity, at the thought of him telling you what you are and aren’t allowed to do, at him praising you for doing well and punishing you if you don’t. You don’t recognize that side of yourself.

His eyes are open again and he searches for yours in the mirror. “I asked you a question.”

You swallow hard. “No, I don’t,” you say, fighting down a giggle. It’s nerves.

“I’d better show you then,” he concludes, and he pushes inside of you with one hard stroke, filling you faster than you can spread your legs.

You both take a moment to breathe. He adjusts himself, you try to get used to the angle, the feeling of fullness. You haven’t seen his hard cock, but you know he’s more than Piers, so much more the stretch is almost uncomfortable. The wood beneath your fingers starts to swim when your vision blurs and –

“No, none of that.” He grips your chin and lifts your head, forcing you to look at yourself in the mirror. “I’ve also been thinking about you watching me fuck you.”

His hand looks so big holding your face like that, and when you swallow again, he can feel it against his fingers.

His own face is right there next to yours, his eyes firmly fixed to yours through the glass. “You’re a big girl. I’m sure you can take it.”

Before you can think of anything to say, he pulls out of you and thrusts back in in a tentative motion that is enough for your eyes to flutter shut in pleasure.

“No, no, no,” he whispers into your ear. “Keep them open.”

You do as you’re told and he rewards you with a sharp bite to the spot where your neck meets your shoulders. Your hips thrust back of their own accord, meeting his in a quick snap.

“You make such pretty sounds,” he mumbles against your skin.

You hadn’t even realized you were making any, too transfixed by watching him move behind you. Whenever your gaze wavers and flutters to your own face, embarrassment sends adrenaline shooting through your body. But he … watching his shoulders and arms tense and relax beneath his shirt that looks all too tight now, watching him meet your gaze, eyes full of lust … you don’t know why you would fuck anyone any other way than this.

He straightens his back, changing the angle slightly, and now you do hear yourself groan. He grabs your chin tighter and pushes two fingers into your mouth. “You know,” he says, and his hips snap with more force, faster, making the vanity rattle beneath your hands, “if you were mine, I’d let no man touch you. I would’ve broken his arm.”

It takes you a few seconds to figure out what he means; you’re too busy relishing the taste of his skin on your tongue. There must have been a man who touched you … when you were coming down the stairs … You can see it all clearly now. He would grab that man’s arm, calm and collected, twist it, make him shout in surprise … you can almost hear the bones snap.

“Oh, look at that,” he groans, and you do. You look at yourself in the mirror, unashamed, eyes wide. You watch how you eagerly suck and lick his fingers, watch it as if another person was doing it. You’re trembling in his grip … or is he making everything shake with his thrusts that are coming faster and faster now as he fucks you, taking what he needs? “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” You almost don’t hear him, too transfixed by how depraved he’s making you feel. “You’d get off on that, a good man protecting you. Shame I’m not good, really.”

You don’t care. You’re done with those men who act politely, who treat you with care when they know Piers is around, but who talk about you taking it up the ass when your back is turned. You’d much rather have this, a man who isn’t scared to say these things to your face. Even if he thinks he isn’t all good, he still protected you.

He pulls his fingers out of your mouth and you whimper at the loss, watching how a thread of spit connecting his digits to your lips breaks. With his other hand, he suddenly grabs one of your breasts, squeezing your hard nipple with practiced ease, and you arch your back with a moan, exposing your throat to him. His fingers close around it, hard, restricting the airflow, his ring pressing against one of the most vulnerable spots of your body in a way that doesn’t leave any room for doubt – you’re doing this on his terms.

He tightens his grip on your throat until you start seeing stars, the loosens it. “I’m going to make you come now. I want you to watch yourself. I want you to see what you look like coming around my cock.”

If you could, you would nod, but he isn’t looking for your consent. He rolls your nipple between his thumb and forefinger one last time, then lowers his hand to find your clit. When he touches you, you make a sound like never before, one that’s feral and animalistic and can’t possibly be coming from you.

He shushes you, his breath tickling your neck. “You don’t want anyone to hear us.”

You don’t? You have no idea. You can’t form a single coherent thought as he pounds into you, making sure you’ll be able to feel him long after he’s done with you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Your voice is breathless after that scream, hoarse and raw. Your gaze flickers to his fingers curled tightly around your neck.

“Keep your eyes on yourself, baby girl,” he orders.

Baby girl.

That’s what does it. You watch your eyes widen and your mouth fall open as your body shakes first from his thrusts and then from wave after wave of pleasure. He was right. You love this. You love watching yourself come while he forces you to watch yourself, love to watch your orgasm play out across your face. He’s watching you too, licking his lips hungrily, never faltering. But you can see it in his eyes, the way he’s memorizing every detail of your orgasm.

“Well done,” he says once you’re done and moves your chin so he can kiss your lips.

Then he suddenly pushes you down so your chest connects with the table top. You grunt in surprise, then in pain when he rolls your head to the side so you can still somewhat glimpse his reflection above you.

“My turn,” he growls.

His teeth are digging into his bottom lip, his eyes are firmly fixed on his own reflection, and he holds you down with such a strong grip you can’t move, but also in a way that’s so casual it makes you feel like he’s using you. Your heart stutters with longing so intense at that thought that the feeling spreads to the rest of your body and becomes so intense he feels it in his own. At least you think that is what’s going on when he smiles down on you.

The position you’re in and the tenderness between your legs steadily turns from pleasurable to uncomfortable to simply too much. But he doesn’t finish. He keeps going and going, not as fast as before, seemingly transfixed by what you’re doing. You reach back for him and he grabs your wrist and pins it to the small of your back.

“Please,” you whimper, and it makes his intense gaze falter for just one second.

“Almost there, baby girl,” he replies, “you’re doing so well. Just keep taking it a little while longer.” You think you could bear anything if he just kept talking to you like that.

Then suddenly it’s over. There is one last thrust that pushes you onto the tips of your toes and then he stills. The only movement comes from his hips that are twitching as he empties himself inside of you. You don’t even dare to breathe, watching as his reflection slowly relaxes and he closes his eyes for a few seconds, trying to catch his breath.

Finally, he pulls out of you and you try to stand, but he pushes you back down again. “Stay. We’re not done yet.”

Your legs tremble in anticipation, but your mind is blank, unable to imagine what else he could have in store for you. You don’t feel anything at first, you just hear him moan, and then you realize he’s kneeling behind you, cleaning you up with his tongue, eagerly licking his own release off your skin. It makes you feel so lewd you forget about everything, even Piers. Especially when he doesn’t stop at your thighs but moves further and further up your legs until his tongue and nose are buried in your folds once more and he’s spreading you open with his big hands.

You can’t help it.

“Fuck, fu- I- I’m gonna –”

There’s no time for you to finish the warning before you’re coming a third time, your hips desperately twitching against the vanity. He licks you through it, catching every last drop you’re giving him on his tongue. You can’t tell for sure but you think he’s chuckling and for some reason the shame you feel turns you on even more.

When it’s all over, he peels you off the vanity and pulls you into his arms, brushing your hair out of your face that is sticky with sweat. “You sure are a greedy little thing,” he says before he kisses you tenderly.

You swallow a sob and give him a sigh instead.

“Half the people downstairs probably heard us.” There’s a big grin on his face at that thought.

“I don’t give a fuck,” you repeat your earlier sentiment, surprised to discover that it’s true.

“Someone wants to get caught,” he teases and kisses you again.

“What I want is for you to fuck me like that again.”

“Oh, baby girl.” You almost hate how he’s already figured out what hearing him call you that does to you. “There are a million more things I want to do with you. This was just a taste.”

You’re not sure if you can believe him, but you decide to indulge that fantasy. You put on your sweetest smile. “Can’t wait.”

He lets go of you and walks toward your door. “Why don’t you give me a call once you’re back in Manhattan.”

A red warning light switches on somewhere in your brain. “But I don’t even know your name.”

“Something tells me you’ll find out.” And with that, he’s gone.

#materialists fanfiction #materialists #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal #is this anything?#quicksand

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