#ugh the qualities fucked but whatever
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Tight pussy and big dick
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#just an observation bc im avoiding working on stuff but i draw a lot and post basically everything i draw thst gets finished#and its v funny to me how u can tell how out of focus i was based on the quality of the drawing#or like when i post something and its like ok some of that was good but u def gave up halfway thru one of those lol#inconsistency i funny like that. its also funny to me that now a days i get comments like COLORS!!!#which is funny bc i notoriously haaaaaate coloring. like i will sit around whining and complaining when im home with my parents bc i dont#wanna color. its just so easy to fuck things up when u draw traditionally and it takes a million years so its a big ask lol#but i guess i dont hate is so much right now bc i kinda just slap whatever colors i want together like fuck it we ball#and thats kinda fun. reckless i suppose#its agony when u wanna try to do shadows and lights tho. like finding references ugh#or wanting to draw big ideas but then its like oh god its gonna take so long and if i dont do it all in one sitting i might die#im a lil better abt thst now bc it would b impossible but in my head i still hate it#ugh. all i wanna do is draw. theres another universe where i went to art school. or just like took art classes. and i wanna say id b happier#but thats def a lie XD i like learning too much and i dont have the attention span to hardcore learn genetics outside an academic#environment. and i got way too excited abt exploring the genetic traits of my cyano species#like i can make genetics trees for traits and look for. fuck. i forgot the word. how tf did i forget the word. oh god. horizontal gene#transfer. jesus christ its like theres a hole in my brain. well. i guess i did get only like 4hrs sleep. ugh im rambling.#i need to finish getting ready for Monday so i dont have to tomorrow and ill have time to draw. prob wont stop me feeling nauseous abt#teaching tho. OH FUCK. i just remembered i have a new office space now to decorate. fuck i need to hang up pictures and stuff#what would b the funniest way to put narut0 on my deskspace? idk ill have to think abt it. oh god im not ready#my head is like a handbell. one of the big ones when u ring it and it hits soft and u can feel the vibrations. someones wrung my head lol#unrelated
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Some characters get so much more interesting when you look outside the fandom view and get to know them on their own terms.
#this post is about leo tsukinaga#like i know hes crazy and a genius and goes uchuu and had a lot of trauma and whatever#but seeing how he is constantly shoved into the damsel in distress role and wants so desperately for someone to recognize his autonomy?#how he now trusts knights to do what is hood for him and the unit without taking that away from him?#how it was HIS FAULT TOO because not even the most gorgeous muse can possibly uphold someones mental health on their own#and how he and izumi are still fucked up because he wont admit that and izumi relapsed in a dark night's passing#and how its not as bad as before but everything is slowly building and stable but could come crasing down at any second#how he does have flaws and he is cruel but his cruelty comes so deeply from love and how everyone in knights needs to learn how to again#see reading knights in the fandom i could get their popularity from a surface level certainly#but god their story arcs. hoping !!! era will bring back ! era quality for them bc on god it was soooo. ugh. so fucking good#raelyn rambles#fandom
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🥛🍔
#really getting fucking tired of tumblr not compressing my file itself. like it ruins the quality but it wont#automatically resize my massive fucking files!? gotta do it myself?? ugh. the lack of usability across all social media platforms is just#getting so hard to stomach anymore. nothing is functional. people get their accounts removed for no logical reason. im exhausted.#and yet i still want all my shit in a collective place -_-#ugh.do you ever look at something and are like. holy shit i painted this.damn. unfortunately it doesnt happen very often but when it does?#almost always my vent boy. why. why is that?why cant i paint anything half decent except this emo boy with a mullet?whatever. also. kinda#random but.not actually random. related actually.idk if this is just me but like. sometimes there are Articles in ur living space that just#exist. like u just accept they exist even tho u have no recollection of attaining them. im talkin clothes specifically rn. like i have this#aqua-green robe with blue trim that ive had as far back as i can recall...except i cant for the life of me remember where it came from! its#almost like it spawned in my closet one day.i just. accept it.like. dont get me wrong. it cozy. its quite physically held up for decades.#i wear it all the damn time. but ive no mortal clue how it got here. ive no memory of receiving it.also ngl i had way too much fun renderin#his beard.like u cant tell bc i apply about a million overlay layers and filters respectively to my finished works. ultimately covering up#hours + hours worth of finely rendered details each drawn individually by hand. deeming my efforts useless in the end bc i cover it up but.#trust me. i took some time with that beard.beard gang beard gang.mullet beard gang.dirty smelly mullet beard man. hello yes my name is#80 y/o who is 32/33 years old. how are you today? im personally doing terrible.good talk. WHAT CAN I SAY i just think the emo grown ass man#with boatloads of physical AND emotional trauma is neat. MY HANDS LOOK LIKE THIS SO HIS DONT HAVE TO *camera pans to a fucked up little set#of discolored claws skin translucent as alll hell. no muscle.atrophied beyond repair. also a bit of dirt is caked under the brittle + ridge#unhealthy nails. cuts and scraped take approx 3 months to heal bc the nerve functioning is That Bad*.#botdbs#fk#on a final note. I drew these about a week ago. I was literally only listening to cheeseburger in paradise the whole time. Then I learned#today that Jimmy Buffett passed away yesterday. broke my heart a little. i was just drinking my coffee from my margaritaville mug too.#Rest in peace legend. I hope heaven has so many cheeseburgers.#so many cheeseburgers in literal paradise.#Makin' the best of every virtue and vice. Worth every damn bit of sacrifice. to get a. cheeseburger in paradise.
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ignore me this is a continuation of the tags on my previous vent post lmao
#Seven.txt#Seven’s Public Diary#cw vent post#cw vent#vent post#man. it’s whatever. let’s look on the bright side- it’s been a while since i’ve had a good crying on the floor session so maybe i was#overdue for one anyways. i feel a bit better now and i didn’t even give myself a headache so that’s a win#ugh it’s thundering outside fuck. i forgot there’s a severe thunderstorm watch tonight. i rly hope the power stays on bc i have stuff to do#and speaking of the weather i might as well say that today’s Weather Report is uhhhhh#You Don’t Even Know Who I Am by Patty Loveless#and also Loveless by PVRIS. and Tapping Out (Stripped) by Issues. lmao some days i can't just pick one. i can't help myself!#they're all on this month's playlist anyways. and i finally linked it in my pinned post! which i had been meaning to do for a While#anyways! all of that stuff aside i do have good news!#Cynthia did confirm that the Sakura Ranchus i wanted are still available!!! so that's really truly great and i’m happy abt that#i honestly can’t believe they stayed listed for like. a year and nine months??? but i guess it’s bc of their wens being a bit overgrown#but that’s why i like em. i want the imperfect ones. i want the ones that no one else wants bc i know i can give them a good home#in spite of them not being ‘show quality’ or whatever#and if my father has anything else to say abt how he thinks they look bad and generic and whatever else he can kiss my fucking ass#bc it ain’t his money being spent and they ain’t his fuckin fish#anyways i thought i had smthn else to say but i forgor#so im gonna go get to work on stuff that needs doing and i’ll finally end what’s probably the longest series of tags in tumblr history#(i should really just type this shit out in the actual post and put it under a cut. maybe i’ll start doing that in the future)
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Trailer park Steve AU part 10
part 1 | part 9 | ao3
cw: recreational drinking
When they get to Eddie’s trailer, Steve’s mom is sitting on the couch, eyes unblinking as she watches the TV.
There’s just static on the screen.
“Steve?” she slurs when she finally realizes they’re there. Sways a little when she stands. There’s a dreamy quality to her voice, a blank look on her tired face: agreeable but distant, a smudge of campfire smoke curling far over the trees.
Double-dosed her pills again. Jesus Christ.
“Oh, Stevie, baby, it was just awful.” She reaches out for him, and he wishes he could find comfort in the way she cups his elbows with delicate hands. Wishes he could lean into her touch and offer comfort in return, but her tone is so dull and mild that bile rises in his throat. Chemical calm bullshit, and Steve has had enough.
“Ma, just…” he sighs, shrugging her off. Scrubs a hand over his face. Too young and too old for this. “Just go home, okay?” The street is quiet again, all the neighbors tucked back in their houses now that the show has run its course. He doesn’t think anyone will notice her stumbling across the road. “Get some rest. I’ll be over in a bit.”
“Sure, baby.” He leads her to the door, and she turns there on the threshold, eyes glassy and unfocused; looks through him like he’s a ghost. Then her gaze shifts around the room — the hats, the mugs, the clutter; the lived-in explosion of color that Steve’s annoyed he likes so much — like she’s just seeing it all for the first time, and absently, she murmurs, “This place is dreadful, isn’t it?”
“Mom.”
“Hmm?” she asks, but she’s already drifting out the door.
Steve’s face is on fire. He stands there for a moment, just staring dumbly out into the dark. What the hell is wrong with her??
Behind him, Eddie snorts. "Oh, she’s on the good shit, huh?”
Steve whips his head around. Eddie’s eyes are full of mirth, his dimple peeking out, and it startles a laugh out of Steve. He thinks maybe he’d take offense if he weren't so busy being mortified.
But also, like.
It is a little funny.
Or maybe it’s so unfunny that it circles back around.
“Jesus, man,” he huffs, “Sorry. I don’t— I don’t know why she…”
“S’fine,” Eddie says with a casual flick of his wrist. Seems like he means it. He rocks back on his heels, hands in his back pockets, just sort of eyeing Steve up. Assessing. Running his tongue over his lips. They're big, for a guy's. “…You want a beer?”
“Fuck.” That sounds so nice. “Yeah. Please.”
“Have a seat.”
Steve takes the offer when Eddie nods at the couch, too tired to do the whole song and dance of ‘oh heavens no, I couldn’t possibly impose.’ Who’s got the energy for that?
The couch is old. His skull thuds against the un-cushioned back when he sinks down into it, but he’s too tired to care. Worn out as the lumpy springs under his ass, the frayed fabric beneath his arm. A wave of exhaustion rattles his bones, reverberates in his teeth. He thinks he could sleep for sixteen years.
Eddie clears his throat when he comes back with the beers, a sudden cautiousness about him as he hands Steve an unopened can like Steve might claw him in return.
"Sit down," Steve rolls his eyes. "I'm not gonna bite."
Eddie makes a strangled noise. The springs bounce as he plops onto the seat beside Steve, sitting sideways with one leg up on the couch between them, his arm resting on the back. "So, ah...." He gives a wavering chuckle; pulls a lock of hair across his face to hide himself. "Is this the part where I formally apologize for trying to knife you?"
Ugh. No the fuck it isn't. Steve’s too drained for it, absolutely at capacity for more serious shit this evening, thanks; and besides that, it was...
Whatever. It's old news.
Instead of giving a real answer he reaches into his pocket, snicks his own knife open and pretends to brandish it at Eddie, asking, "Eye for an eye?"
Eddie's eyes go huge. "Dude, what the fuck??"
"Just fucking with you," Steve laughs, lifting the can up to his mouth. "But there; now we're even. Shoulda seen your face."
“Ah—!” Eddie’s jaw drops in offense. “Ex-cuse you!”
God, of course he’s more dramatic than all the kids combined.
Steve jabs the knife into his beer, pops the top and starts to chug, throat working as he gulps the whole thing down in four big sips. It tastes like frothy, bitter piss, but it's cold and it soothes the scratch in his throat.
Eddie lets out a low whistle. "Well, goddamn, Harrington."
"Is that supposed to impress me?"
"You're not?"
Steve grins and wipes his mouth.
—
They get drunk pretty fast (Eddie refused to be upstaged in his own house, so one shot-gunned beer became two became four), and somewhere along the line the conversations get weird; hilarious and dumb. Saying shit just to say it, chipping away at the ice wall between them with bare fingernails.
Eddie hollers some shit like: "What are you even talking about?" and his arms fling out wide, almost spilling his beer. "The deep sea is so much scarier than the mountains!"
"Are you joking?" Steve throws back. "The mountains have, like, giant cats and shit! Birds of prey with wingspans the size of your van."
"Yeah, and the deep sea has eldritch monsters that live in volcano vents and hunt with no eyes and eat their young for fun or whatever the fuck. You ever heard of an anglerfish? Or a phantom anglerfish? Tell me that shit isn't right out of a Lovecraft story."
"A what story?"
"How am I the one who hasn’t graduated yet?"
Then later:
“Dude, Batman? Seriously?”
“He’s the world’s greatest detective!”
“He’s a greasy little weirdo. You only like him because of your whole…” Steve gestures at his tattoos.
“Whatever, Spiderfan.”
And later still:
"Okay, okay, okay. Fuck, marry, kill... Shit. Y’know this would really be easier in a town where so many people hadn’t died."
Steve grimaces at himself; expects Eddie to call him out. It’s too insensitive, too soon.
Eddie just cracks a grin and suggests, "Fuck, marry, revive?"
—
They talk for a long time. Eddie's kind of charming when he's not being a dick. A nice smile, deep laugh lines. Steve can almost see why the kids are so obsessed with him. He's never met someone so animated; feels like he's talking to a Saturday morning cartoon. The conversation mellows out after a while, and he doesn't realize he's dozed off until Eddie shakes him awake.
"Hey, man," he says, voice just above a whisper. "I'm going to bed. You're welcome to crash on the couch, but, uh,” he scratches the back of his neck, “I mean, your back is probably gonna hate you for it."
Steve rubs his fists against his eyelids and blinks himself awake. Feels jittery and weird, yanked out of the start of a bad dream. When he looks up he sees that he’s got his shoes up on the couch; and there’s dried drool on his chin, and all at once he feels embarrassed, off-balance and panicked like he missed the last step down a steep flight of stairs. Of course he's overstayed his welcome. He's being fucking rude. "My bad," he mutters as he jumps up off the couch. Stands up way too fast, makes his vision tilt and swirl. "I'll get out of your hair."
Eddie reaches for his arm. "Dude,” he says, “you're fine. You can stay if you want.”
Steve moves out of his hold. “Nah, get some sleep; I’ll see ya around.”
Eddie frowns at him, a little furrow between his brows, and somehow Steve feels like he’s in the wrong, like Eddie isn’t the one who just kicked him out.
Like maybe Steve’s just running away for a second time in one night. Always back and away, this guy.
Who's the fucking coward now?
—
part 11
y'all know the drill, tagging whoever commented on yesterday's installment provided your tumblr settings let me <;3 @thealwithnoname @violetsteve @manda-panda-monium @stuftzombie @bronwenmarie @aliea82 @slowandsteddie @acedorerryn @anne-bennett-cosplayer @ahsokatanoss @steveshairspray @hallucinatedjosten @estrellami-1 @ppunkpuppyy @stevesbipanic @silver-snaffles @yourmom-isgay @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @zombiecreatures @im-a-disgrace-to-humanity @faery-god @hotluncheddie @runninriot @a-little-unsteddie @teatimeeverybody @newtstabber @pearynice @hellion-child @cuips-not-cute @steddieas-shegoes @steves-strapcollection @loguine-linguine @griefabyss69
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model!steve and voice actor!eddie
part 2 here | ao3 link here
Eddie chose a career in voice acting to avoid shit like this.
Forced socializing. Schmoozing with hotshot directors who are used to everyone kissing their ass until their lips bleed. And Eddie doesn’t do that shit.
… Okay yeah sure, Eddie kisses asses. But only in the literal, consensual kind of way. Usually after a few mediocre dinner dates, at least.
But this particular fuckhole of a director is insisting that Eddie attends the production shoot of the commercial that he’ll be narrating for. Which is weird - that’s not how this process typically goes. Eddie gets the script and records it in his studio. Easy peasy.
“I do things a little differently with my projects.” The director sneers into the phone’s speaker. Eddie silently gags at the oozing amounts of ego on this guy. “I want to immerse you into my vision.”
Ew. Eddie would rather immerse himself into a nap, but whatever. A job is a job.
“Understood.” Eddie agrees with minimal teeth-clenching. “I’ll be on set shortly.”
The phone clicks dead with nothing but a chuckle from the guy. No ‘goodbye,’ no ‘thank you.’ Rude… but that’s kind of an industry standard, so why did Eddie expect anything different?
He folds the script into his back pocket, throws on a shirt that screams ‘Los Angeles disaster gay,’ and makes his way to the studio lot.
Fucking yay.
Upon arrival, the director immediately escorts Eddie into the green room. Rambles on about needing him to meet the lead model for this commercial.
“Isn’t he just posing with the product?” Eddie lets his snarkiness run loose with that question, knows it right away.
Luckily, the guy is too busy snapping at a crew member to notice. “You’ll be voicing his character’s inner narrations.”
“Right.”
“And I want your tone to be seamless with the energy that he’s giving in this shoot. Got it?”
“Loud and clear.” Mostly loud.
The director swings open the door and reveals maybe the most cosmically beautiful person that Eddie has ever seen.
“Eddie, this is Steve.” The director says. “Steve, this is Eddie.”
Models are beautiful people, that’s the goddamn gig. Makeup, no makeup. Photoshop, no photoshop. They just look better than the general population and society accepts that as a fact.
But Eddie is a grubby little voice actor that burrows himself up in his boxy apartment for days. Very little sunlight, very little human interaction, and a shit ton of takeout.
Long story short, he doesn’t get out much. So this? Seeing a biblically hot heartthrob in the flesh? With his own two eyes? It’s knocking him into deep space. Sending him into an astral projection without sticking a tablet on his tongue first.
“Nice to meet you, man.” Steve holds out his hand while someone brushes more powder onto his shiny, glowy skin. God, that’s the best damn skin Eddie has ever seen. Powder be damned, Steve doesn’t need it’s chalky finish.
Eddie shakes himself out of this spell, takes Steve’s hand like he’s somehow worthy of touching him. “Yeah, you too.”
Lame. So lame. On a scale of one to Star Wars prequels, his response is the CGI in Attack of the Clones. ‘Yeah, you too?’ Ugh, what a dumbass.
The director tells them to get acquainted and to be on set in ten minutes. Ten minutes. Eddie has to be convincingly normal for ten whole minutes. Pfft, that’s laughable, but he’ll give it a shot.
“That guy’s a total asshat.” Steve grumbles.
Oh. Eddie could smother him in kisses for saying that. Lick Steve clean of all that stupid powder and probably die of talc poisoning. Death By Licking a Model is one hell of a way to go.
“Yeah.” Find some new words, Munson. “Major asshat. But he happens to be paying my bills this month, so technically, he’s my favorite major asshat.”
“Oh, same.” Steve laughs. It’s fucking glorious too. Eddie kind of wishes he had brought his microphone so that he could capture such a wonderful sound with high quality recording software. Is that creepy? Maybe he should dial it back.
... As if. This guy’s hair is sculpted with effortless perfection and his shoulder blades could slice through a French baguette. No way Eddie can dial it back or keep it together.
“So you’re doing the voice work on the commercial, right?” Steve asks.
‘Yup.” Eddie shoves both hands into his pockets. “Indeed I am.”
Okay, that was borderline Yoda. Get a grip.
Steve seems unfazed though. “That’s cool. Can’t wait to hear what you come up with.”
“Thanks.” Eddie smiles warmly. Nerves mellowing out. “And I can’t wait to see you in action out there.”
“Hope I can give you some good inspiration.” And Steve winks, legit winks at Eddie. Does it like it’s normal too, like he winks at everybody. He probably winks at nuns just to see if he can get them to consider conversion.
Eddie is so hopeless. Fucking tragic at this point.
They walk into the studio and are greeted by a somber, archaic set design. There’s a massive throne in the middle that is draped with fur.
It’s… tacky. That’s the nicest adjective Eddie has to describe it. Tacky bullshit.
“I thought this was for a cologne ad.” Eddie says, eyeing the snowy backdrop.
Steve nods. “It is.”
“So what’s with the secondhand Game of Thrones set?”
“Mr. Asshat thinks this is his cinematic debut.”
Eddie snorts. Loves that he already has inside jokes with this beautiful, beautiful creature. “Someone should tell Mr. Asshat that this is visual plagiarism.”
“Nah.” Steve runs his hand over the tacky fur piece. Smirks to himself as he speaks. “I say we let him suffer.”
Eddie’s legs wobble. “Damn, you’re hot.”
He sounds ridiculously uncool, so breathy and gone. But Steve shrugs in a non-pitying kind of way, so maybe Eddie's uncoolness is excused. Or expected.
While the camera and lighting crew finalize their positions, Steve takes off his robe, revealing his costume.
Torn, muddied pants. Ripped and clawed to shreds. A billowy white top that’s completely unbuttoned. Un-laced? Eddie’s not entirely sure about the mechanics - just knows that Steve’s chest is out, that’s all he can focus on.
There’s a dented crown that the stylist places next to the throne, right at Steve’s feet. It’s shimmery yet tarnished, catches the light in a kaleidoscope effect.
The product is called The Fallen King, so deductive reasoning tells Eddie that Steve is meant to be the physical embodiment of this scent. He recalls something in the script about his title being slandered by promiscuity and forbidden love. Apparently they’ve bottled up that smell into a cologne.
Do people really want to smell like a dethroned monarch? That’s a thing? Huh.
Just to make the sexual torture even more unbearable, Eddie gets to spectate alongside Mr. Asshat himself. Which also means that Eddie almost has a center view of Steve’s performance.
Cause that’s exactly what he’s giving. A performance. A full display production of his body, his face. His whole godlike essence.
It’s unfair how fucked Eddie is from watching Steve pose. He can hold the oddest positions without budging a single tendon. So still. Durable. Strong.
Every last thought in Eddie’s head is impure from that observation. He wants to wrap his fingers around Steve’s muscles until he finally moves, twitches. Eddie wants to watch as Steve’s pretty lips part, falling open with sighs. See how long it takes for those sighs to turn into moans.
Steve slumps back into the throne, legs spread obscenely far apart. His gaze droops low and dark, practically eye-fucking the camera. It’s crazy how jealous Eddie is of that stupid inanimate object. The things he would do to get eye-fucked by that golden sex god up there…
His internal porno gets interrupted by a new pose. A wicked one. Steve is on his knees now, looking up into the camera lens. He sinks into the dreamiest expression. Looks dazed, all spaced-out and helpless. Eddie kneads at the growing heat in his pants with the heel of his palm. Hopes it’s not fucking obvious that he’s so horned up right now.
The director clears his throat and yells over the camera’s constant shuttering. “Can you tilt your head back, Steve?”
And Steve does. So obedient, so exceptional at his job. His head rolls back on his neck, shoulders sagging with the shift of weight.
Eddie is chewing the inside of his cheek, nearly ready to take the horny loss and go jack off in his car. Steve is in the most ideal position now, totally vulnerable. Eddie could fuck him so good like that, let Steve melt into his touch. He’d treat him like treasure, spoil him with dick and praise. Eddie would catch him if his legs give out. Would lick Steve’s kiss-bitten lips until the swelling goes down.
God, Eddie is so sick in the head for conjuring up x-rated scenes like this. In public, surrounded by strangers. Literally on the clock. He seriously needs to get his head checked for having such a whorish imagination.
The shoot ends shortly after that last pose, the one that rocked Eddie’s world. He closes his eyes for a minute, takes a few deep breaths. Tries to inhale some goddamn decency.
“How was it?” Steve heads his way, snaking his arms back into the bathrobe.
Eddie blinks hard. “It was… you were…” And the words stop. Nothing else comes out, his throat is strangled and bare.
Steve gives a soft laugh, nudges Eddie’s arm with his elbow. “Guess you do better when there’s a script in front of you, huh?”
Oh. So he’s pretty and darkly playful? This is too good, too delicious.
Eddie wets his bottom lip, recovers quickly. “I do better when there’s not an earthbound angel in my presence.”
“Wow.” Steve raises both eyebrows. “That’s quite the compliment.”
“Oh come on - you must get compliments all the time.”
“Not like that one though.”
“No?”
Steve takes a step into Eddie’s space. “Definitely not.”
They just stare after that - mostly because it’s Eddie’s turn to speak but words are so secondary when there’s this much beauty to behold. Gazing becomes his top priority.
And before the conversation can lead to an exchange of last names or phone numbers, Steve is rushed off by his agent. Maybe his publicist. Maybe his mom, Eddie has no fucking clue. Just someone taking away his shiny new toy. He sort of feels like reenacting that scene in Cast Away when the volleyball drifts into the ocean. Be dramatic as all hell about this ending.
Eddie doesn’t actually jack off in his car, although he really wants to. No, he decides to use all of his adrenaline and pent-up hormones for the voice recording. It gives his vocals this strained, chesty sound. Sinful and corrupt. Cracking with emotion in certain spots, spiking the volume in all the right ways.
It might be too much, a little bit too suggestive for a lousy cologne advertisement.
But as he listens back, Eddie can’t help but picture Steve. Imagining snapshots of him from every angle, especially the unspeakable ones. The recording barely sounds like a script anymore. It almost sounds like Eddie whispering the lines directly into Steve’s ear. A dirty secret between them.
This is it, he thinks. Sends the audio file to his sound mixer without a second read-through, without a retake. This might be the best voiceover Eddie Munson has ever done.
#steddie#steddie fic#this is inspired by the unhinged ao3 tag generator#so there will be two more parts - fairly short like this one#not sure if I should put this on ao3... we shall see#anyways thanks for listening xx
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Is it bad I just wanna suck Joel off with the highest chance of someone coming in on us? Just like, imagine it, ugh
Birthday Boy
Pairing || Joel Miller x Female!Reader
Summary || It's his day, of course you'd treat him well today.
Word Count || 1,227
Contents & Warnings || Fluff & Smut — NSFW, 18+ Only, Minors DNI, explicit content/language, pet names (baby, hon/honey, sweetheart, good girl), oral (male receiving), teasing, face/throat fucking, spit/saliva, cum swallowing, getting caught, established relationship, ONE spank, 2 mentions of the word Daddy (said by Joel)
Disclaimer || This is my first ever fic, I'm sorry if it's not super good. I promise whatever comes next will be better!
It was Joel's birthday and you invited Tommy over to celebrate with you and Sarah, forcing him to stay home for the day. It's not that he hated to celebrate his day, he was usually busy with work and came home late.
"How old are you again, old man" you hear from the living room, followed by a chuckle from Tommy.
"If you think 28 is old, I'm scared about what you think in 20 years, hon'," you say walking back in the living room with two bowls of popcorn, placing them on the coffee table and sitting right next to your birthday boy.
"Thank you, sweetheart," Joel says while wrapping an arm around you and placing a peck on your temple. Your relationship with Joel has been amazing for the past 2 years. When thinking back about it, you've got thank Sarah and her boldness to get her father into the dating scene. Who's daughter would slip her own dad's number to the local dinner waitress? Only in the Miller household, that's for sure.
"Movie in? What we watching again?," Tommy leans over his niece on the floor, grabbing a beer set there only a few minutes ago, Sarah replies, "Men in Black 2." as she wipes down the liquid ring caused by the beer bottle. "Learn to use a coaster next time, please"
"Ok ok, just play the damn thing. I wanna see if this is better then the original," he said before taking a swig of beer. You all sit comfortably, Tommy and Sarah huddled together on the floor and you and Joel cuddling together. You look up at him, admiring his facial features, wondering how he didn't notice his own beauty. He feels your stares and looks down at you and places his forehead against yours before placing a hand on your thigh and facing back to the screen.
There's about a quarter left of the movie now. Sarah had fallen asleep against Tommy, who's starting to feel the effects of the couple of beers. "I'm heading up, want me to take this one too?," he says looking up at the couple on the couch, "I'll tuck her in and whatever."
"Yeah that's fine Tommy, thank you," you say while smiling at the two on the floor, watching him pick up the sleeping teen, struggling for a second, then walking up the steps. Soft groans and a "Shh, it's fine, just me" can be heard faintly going up the steps.
You and Joel are left alone on the couch and the sequel playing in front of you. Placing a hand on his lap, you lean up and kiss his jaw. "Did you have a good birthday, my love?"
Joel chuckled and pulled you onto his lap, hands placed on your hips, "Of course I did, I always enjoy the quality time we spend, together as a family," he then leans forwards towards your ear whispering, "and when we're alone," followed by a playful smack on your ass.
"Uh, you nasty old man," you jokingly gasped out, lightly hitting Joel's chest. He let out a hearty laugh, both hands now on your ass, "Well this 'old man' loves you and everything you do, baby."
You place your hands on his chest, rubbing softly against the button down he wore. You sit in silence for awhile until you break it.
“Do you want me to suck your dick?”
Your words almost gave him whiplash, eyes blinking furiously as he had a confused and intriguing expression on his face.
“Right now?”
“Yeah dummy, right now.”
“Where did this come from, pretty girl?” His lips turned up in a smirk at the thought of you sucking him off right here on the couch.
“Maybe I'm just in the mood to suck your dick. So do you want me to or not?," you say smirking.
“Fuck, you know I could never resist your offer, baby.” His hand reaches up to your mouth, thumb caressing your lips, thinking about them wrapped around him, making his cock twitch. You reach down and grabbed his covered bulge and palmed him in your hand. The idea of sucking him off had his cock hardened.
“What about Sarah and Tommy, sweetheart? What if they come back down?”
“Well, you need to be my eyes and ears, old man, because I’ll be too busy with your pretty dick in my mouth.”
He groaned in anticipation when you got up and made yourself comfortable on your knees, peering up at him through your thick lashes. Quickly, you pulled his jeans and boxers down, his hard dick springing into view, making you lick your hungry lips.
His hand petting your head lovingly gave you the encouragement you needed to have at him.
You licked his tip, collecting the bead of pre-cum that was forming on it. The feeling of your tongue on him and the risk of getting caught had him groan out.
He pushed your head on his cock, becoming slightly impatient. He wanted to feel your wet and tight mouth rubbing against him. When he was in your throat, he groaned out in satisfaction, his eyes closing in bliss.
You sucked him off like your life depended on it, slurping and moaning around his cock. Your mouth and hand worked together to bring him towards the edge. You released his length for a moment with a pop and spat on him, watching your saliva trickle down his heavy cock, making you hungry for more.
"Fuck baby, you're doing so damn good. Sucking Daddy's cock so good," he says hand gripping your hair, encouraging you to take him deeper once again.
You took him all the way to the back of your throat again, making your eyes water. The light gagging made him shiver on the spot. You pushed through the slight discomfort, wanting to make him feel as good as possible.
He fucked your mouth hard, saliva dripping down your chin with each force of his hips. “So pretty and messy for me, baby.” He was in awe as he watched you take each inch of him. He was a little over average size, yet was thick enough to make your jaw hurt in the best ways.
“Ah, fuck,” he leaned his head back while shutting his eyes tight, “I'm gonna come.”
A thrust or two more, and he was shooting his hot cum down your throat, some coming out from the sides of your mouth. You continued to bob your head on him until he was done spilling every single drop.
“Show me,” he moaned, tugging you off of his softening dick. You showed him your empty mouth, tongue stuck out with no trace left of him in your mouth.
"Such a good girl for me. Knows exactly how to treat her Daddy," he groans while taking his free hand and rubbing your cheek, causing you to lean into his touch.
"Open that pretty mouth again for me, my love." You follow his orders opening your mouth allowing him to spit in your empty cavity and without being told to, you swallow happily.
"Hey lovebirds, next time ya'll are havin' fun, invite me yeah?" You look up in the direction of the stairs, hearing the other male voice in the house chuckle. "If you don't, just keep it down next time."
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal smut#pedro pascal x reader#joel miller#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader#the last of us#the last of us smut
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Prompt: Feb 14th - Lips | 1183 words | @jegulus-microfic
part two , three and four :)
Barty Crouch is an idiot.
The first time James came to this conclusion he was only 11 years old and Barty was refusing to give him back his football cause “football is not for losers, weirdo”, since then, the thought crosses his mind from time to time – Barty Crouch is an idiot. Not only an idiot, but also stupid, not only fucking stupid, but also deadass ugly, not only ugly, he is also an arrogant piece of shit, not only that, he’s also a- argh, James could go on and on about all of Barty Crouch’s flaws, he could go for hours, days, damn, even weeks if someone gave him the time of day to do so. Honestly, he can’t think of one good thing to say about the guy, nonetheless, Regulus’ been kissing him senseless for the past 7 minutes – not that James is counting or anything – seeming fucking dead set on finding Barty’s hidden qualities, if he has any, in the inside of the boy's mouth. Not that James cares that his best friend’s baby brother has been snogging the most annoying man to ever walk earth for 7 minutes and 36 fucking seconds, like they´re stuck in a game of 7 minutes in heaven or something, or, more accurately to James, 7 minutes and 49 seconds in the deepest pit of hell – not that he’s counting (whatever).
Part of him, the hopeful part, is kind of holding on to the idea that this is some weird kind of practical joke Regulus is playing on Barty, he knows James' football story, maybe that’s the way he’s found to revenge him, making Barty fall in love with him and then leaving the guy tormented by the memory of a kiss with a boy he’ll never be able to have playing in loop in his head. Part of him, the protective part, hates that fucking Barty Crouch has even the memory of a kiss to play in loop in his head, part of him wants to yank it off. Part of him, ugh, part of him is scared that Regulus is not some boy Barty can’t have. Part of him – the possessive, petty and kinda insane part – hates that it’s Barty instead of James, who has known Regulus for years, he’d know what to do to make him feel good, he’s sure he’d figure out the right buttons to push in a matter of seconds. Instead, it’s another person in what should be his place, touching Regulus in places James never will, running his tongue over his lips and tasting Regulus in ways that James will never be able to – he hates to think about the sounds that he’s dragging out of Regulus, sounds that he’s getting to hear, swallow, save for later. Fuck. James might kill the fucking guy.
It’s not like James wants to be in Barty’s place - or whatever, it’s more of a protective big brother's best friend thing, he’d rather kill himself than actually kiss Sirius’ baby brother, it’s literally the most disgusting thought that could ever cross his mind ever, literally. Which, if he’s being totally honest, it does from time, but it only causes him to experience the deepest feeling of disgust, he can literally feel his stomach doing weird loops and stuff, which can only be translated to pure and utter repulse, literally. It’s not like it’s a recurring thing or anything, it’s just that he’s a fucking 17-year-old, of course the idea of kissing people he’s always hanging out with is gonna come to him out of fucking nowhere. And like, Regulus does have this freakish pink lips that look really soft and it's kinda hard to not stare at them when he's been going on and on for hours about some book he's recently read, specially when he keeps biting his lower lip every five minutes before saying the next sentence. Not that the thought crosses his mind in a weird, out of ordinary, creepy constancy or anything, really. It's just, you know, your ordinary 17 year old boy next door normal amount of thinking about kissing your best friend’s brother – which he doesn’t by the away, just, rarely, sometimes, in a daily basis, rarely.
The point is, James is Sirius’ best friend, and Regulus is Sirius’ baby brother, James remember him as a toddler, with his big grey eyes and messy dark hair all over the place, so of course he’s gonna be concerned about Regulus’ well being and not want him to snog some dumbass just cause he found the free time to do so. He wants Regulus to be with someone that is worthy of him, not that James can think of anyone that managed to meet the criteria so far, or that ever will. Well, if he stops to think about it, in an ideal world Regulus would grow old alone and a virgin, but is that really so bad? James will visit him everyday and they’ll play videogames and do star wars marathons. Fuck it. He’ll even listen to Regulus talk about his pretentious books and let him put his depressing emo music, he already does that all the time anyway, he might even sing some of the lyrics that he’s already learned from having to listen to it every time they hang out. Well, and if from time to time Regulus happens to feel kinda alone and horny, James would even be ok to helping him out with that, you know, in the sole interest of keeping him away from losers. If that’s what it takes to save Sirius from having to endure life as the brother in law of some dumb, ugly idiot, James doesn’t mind sacrificing himself for his best friend, call him a fucking altruist if you will.
James bets Barty Crouch has never touched a single episode of Star Wars, or a book in that matter, maybe he can’t even read anything with more than fifty pages or pay attention to any movie that's longer than one hour. Also, he doesn’t look like the kind of guy who’ll be able to appreciate Regulus’ music and try to actually understand and connect with the lyrics, which is the most important part to Regulus, he’ll probably try and change subjects every time Regulus tries to explain his interpretation. Basically, James is pretty sure they don’t even have anything in common to talk about, they won’t even be able to have a proper conversation! What are they gonna do? Just kiss the whole time they’re together? Every single minute without stopping so they can avoid awkward silence breaks? Ha.
The thought makes James want to instantly puke.
He hates this party, but he doesn’t want to, actually, he can’t, leave Regulus here with this idiot to do to him whatever the hell he pleases out of James sight. Fuck. He doesn’t even want to think about that. He hates absolutely everything that’s happening right now, but, most of all, he hates Barty Crouch. The reason? Barty Crouch is an idiot.
And he stole James’ football.
#jegulus#jealous james potter#dead gay wizards#james potter#barty crouch jr#regulus black#jegulus microfic#alternate universe#english is not my first language!#it's my first time posting anything I write and I'm kinda nervous#bare with me#wrote the whole thing whilst listening to disintegration by the cure so it turned out more angsty than I expected#light angst#repetitive wrong use of the word literally#clueless james potter#starchaser#jegulus fic#sunseeker
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you, after all | knj x reader (18+)
summary: your break up hadn't been angry or contentious. he wanted to go, you never asked him to stay. it was simple, really. but when namjoon shows back up after three years, things don't seem so simple anymore
pairing: namjoon x f!reader
rating: explicit (18+ please)
genre: exes to lovers, smut, fluff (because of who i am as a person)
warnings: smut, a little swearing, here are the specific smut tags: kissing, penetrative sex, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, maybe a whisper of a hand job, namjoon has a big dick (i had to)... it's really pretty soft—they're just in love without saying so
word count: 6.8k
a/n: i haven't been able to write the things i need to write (sorry jin and yoongi), so here i am with some namjoon fluff & smut. thank you, as always, to @ugh-yoongi who is helpful and kind with reading these things. apologies for the banner quality; idk how to make it look nice on tumblr. this is posted to ao3 here if you like to read fics there.
There’s this thing about awkward silences—they’re not inherently awkward because of the absence of sound, they’re awkward precisely because you become acutely aware of every little sound around you that isn’t the one you were expecting or wanting to hear.
The tap of his heel against the floor, muted by the thin cork flooring and then enhanced again by the way the fabric of his jeans whooshes when he jiggles his knee. The almost white-noise din of the other conversations around you, loud enough that you can pick out words but not meaning. The tinkling of silverware and chopsticks on ceramic and glass as people (including you) swallow things they think to say down with some glass noodles or spoonfuls of soup.
No, you decide. Awkward silences are anything but quiet, they’re terrifyingly fucking loud.
“So…” you finally start, “are you going to tell me what you’re actually doing here?”
Namjoon looks up from his food at you as you speak, his eyes wide like they get when he’s been startled out of some (probably depressing) train of thought, eyebrows raised in crescents that sit like shadows above the rim of his glasses. Noodles trail out of his lips and hang there, resting on his chopsticks, waiting for him to act.
It’s a perfect visual representation of the pause you feel in your whole body waiting for him to respond. Maybe somehow you are like a noodle, you think.
You try not to laugh at the thought because you know it will send him back into some sort of overthinking spiral of dismal self-worth. You know he’ll think you’re laughing at him. Sometimes, back then, you were. But not usually.
(And he’s not the only one prone to existential crises.
Perhaps that’s why you two had always gotten on so well. You’ve had plenty of time to think about how the two of you started and stopped, and being aligned in this sort of… well, thoughtfulness is maybe a generous way to put it… being alike in that way a little bit probably drew you together as much as it split you apart. One overthinker is enough for any relationship. Two is… two is probably one too many).
With a slurp, he sits up and sets his chopsticks down. He’s still regarding you, his eyes haven’t left your face, you’re pretty sure. But now, it’s with the careful consideration he’s known amongst your friends for, not the surprise you clocked on him a moment prior.
He’s still fidgeting. You can feel the vibrations of his legs when they brush the underside of the table because he’s too tall to keep his limbs to himself and too polite to stretch them out in a violation (would it really be? You’re not sure) of your space. For a moment, you think it’s out of character, and then you start to recall every difficult conversation you’ve ever had with this man in front of you. The way he would twist up his face into a scowl almost involuntarily, the pulling on his hair, the crumpling up of whatever paper was in reach, the peeling of countless labels off of beer bottles… No, you decide, the fidgeting is perfectly in sync with what you know of Kim Namjoon when he thinks he’s going to say something someone doesn’t want to hear (and also when someone’s telling him something he doesn’t).
If you didn’t know him as well, you’d think he was stalling. Or unsure of himself. And he might be those things to some degree, but this version of him, you’re sure, is trying to figure out how to say what he wants to say in a way that you’ll accept.
The problem is, you’ve been broken up for almost three years. You’re not sure what he could say that would even affect you like that any more.
So, this is all a little frightening, this awkward loud silence between the two of you.
You point the blunt end of a chopstick at him. “Joon, just spit it out. We haven’t seen each other in ages, I don’t want to waste this watching you think.”
At that, he grins, and at least some of what you loved about him rears its head. He’s gorgeous when he’s happy—it’s contagious, too. His dimples appear, his cheeks push up into his eyes and his lips spread so wide they almost cover the span of his face. He’s really, truly beautiful like this, and when you see it now for a split second, you’re reminded of how much you used to love making him smile, how much pride you took in being the one who could almost always make him laugh.
“Sorry,” he mutters as his grin turns from bright to sheepish. “You know how I can be.”
That, you certainly do.
“Well, you said you wanted to catch up, and we’ve done that, so now are you gonna tell me what you’re doing back here?”
“I’ve been thinking,” he says, eyes dropping down to his bowl.
“Uh-oh.” You mean it to tease, not to be cruel, but his face falls a little anyway. You suppose it’s two sides of the same coin—being able to make him laugh and having enough influence to disappoint him with your words… they’re essentially the same thing and you know it. “Sorry,” you add, tapping his foot under the table with yours. “I was just teasing… Trying to make this less weird, I guess.”
“It was never weird with us, was it?” He’s asking you, for what you’re not sure. Reassurance? Absolution?
“No,” you reply softly. “It was a lot of things with us, but it was never weird.”
And it wasn’t. Not when you fought about stupid shit late-night in the kitchen of your crappy apartment. Not when he took off to the city to do “big things” after uni and you just sort of… let him go. Not when your friends “didn’t take sides” but took careful measures to not invite you to the same parties, and not when he called you earlier today, totally out of the blue, telling you he was around and he wanted to see you.
In order, it was frustrating, disappointing, lonely, and surprising, but none of it was weird. Not weird standing in his empty living room, leaning against a stack of his moving boxes and watching him pack the last of his belongings into a duffel. Not weird to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer to you as he fucked you into the mattress that last night before he left, whispering that he loved you and needed you. Not weird after, when you spilled tears on his chest and told him you were scared for what life would be like without him while he ran fingertips up and down your spine and reassured you that no matter what, you were going to have an incredible life.
It wasn’t weird when the next morning, he promised you’d always be friends.
It wasn’t weird when you both eventually stopped texting.
It wasn’t weird when he never came back.
But now he’s here, sitting in front of you in the same grungy noodle shop you used to have your cheap college date nights at, and things are absolutely, inarguably weird.
Namjoon’s staring at you, still hasn’t answered your question, when the server comes with your check. He snags it before you can argue and gives you a distracted sort-of-grin when he gets up to find the cashier.
Everything about this is so familiar and different at the same time. In your past life with Namjoon, he’d never just leave the table to pay with noodles left in his bowl, he’d never forget his manners and ignore asking whether or not you were ready to go. But him getting distracted by his own thoughts is on brand… So is the way he knocks over the cashier’s pencil cup when he tries to return the pen he used to sign the receipt. The most familiar thing is the glance he throws your way when he does it, rolling his eyes affectionately when he sees you stifling a laugh.
It makes your stomach tumble.
There isn’t a discussion when you leave the noodle shop, thank god. No asking if it’s okay if he walks with you, no awkward first date bullshit. Which of course there isn’t, you remind your nervous system, because this isn’t a date and it’s not a first anything really. First time you’ve seen him in a while maybe, but even that feeling’s been fading since you saw him through the window of the restaurant, sitting alone (waiting for you with his knee bouncing) at your usual table a couple hours prior.
“Why do you think we call it a pencil cup?” he asks quietly. You can barely hear him over the car that happens to pass as he speaks.
“Huh?”
“We always call it a pencil cup, but everyone keeps pens in them, you know?”
You smile softly in spite of yourself. “I don’t know, Joon-ah.” It’s a nickname you haven’t used or thought of in a long time. It feels too affectionate for what you are to each other now (you feel a little too affectionate toward him for what you are now, so you suppose it fits), but he doesn’t seem to notice, leaving you thankful for the universe’s small favors. “Humans are quirky. Language is worse,” you finish.
He hums in response. “You’re right. You’re always right,” he agrees.
Suddenly he stills, footsteps halting as he grabs your hand. The surprise you feel absolutely accounts (you hope) for the stupid swoop of your stomach; not the first one you’ve felt since the sun went down. “Can we?” he says, tugging on your hand like a ridiculously strong kid.
It takes a second for you to realize what he means, but when you do, you readily agree. “Of course we can.” You move first, pulling him behind you, and it’s not lost on you when you look over your shoulder that he looks happier than you think you’ve seen him maybe ever, and that you’re still holding hands.
You hop up onto the metal platform, letting him go, and he grabs one of the bars and starts to pull it behind him as he jogs. Your world literally spins. Arms out, you tilt your head back and puff out a long breath. It’s cold enough that you can see the smoky trail of it float above you, tendrils of steam looking like they’re curling around the stars.
With a thud, Namjoon lands across from you on the merry-go-round, sitting to face you, legs sprawled out in front of him. You sit, too, and the metal wheel spins a little more slowly with each revolution until it’s barely moving millimeters, all of the momentum from Namjoon’s effort petering out.
It’s weird, you think, that staring at him across from you, it still feels like the ground is moving.
“I left.” He breaks the silence with a simple statement and you’re not sure what he expects you to say in return, so you just nod. “But I don’t know why you let me.”
He doesn’t look at you when he says the last part, his head tilts off to the side and he leans it against one of the cold, metal railings. If he was anyone else, you’d think he hadn’t meant to say it out loud. But you know him, and you know he rarely says things he doesn’t mean.
The first response in your chest feels like anger. He left you after all. He walked away. Of course you let him, what the fuck else were you supposed to do? Beg him to stay? You were basically kids. You still are. He had opportunities, you had a sick mom… it wouldn’t have been fair to ask him to stay.
And then there was this: the insecure part of you didn’t want to give him the opportunity to tell you he couldn’t. Wouldn’t. That you weren’t worth it.
Maybe you should have taken that chance. You’ve learned a lot since then. Grown up and gotten more confident, surely. Made new friends, had other partners. “Lovers,” as Taehyung likes to call them (just to see you roll your eyes at him in response).
He keeps talking before you can let the angry thoughts have a voice. “I love being here,” he says softly, still not looking at you. “I love how you can see the stars, I love that the air smells better. I love the sea and the way it makes you feel small…” he sighs before he continues, “but I’ve been back for a week and I didn’t love any of it as much as I love this right now.” His voice gets quieter with each word. You barely hear him tack on, “with you.” You might even be imagining it, he’s that quiet.
It almost makes you sick to not know what he’s getting at, to wish he would just be straight with you. All of this nostalgia… what amounts to a recreation of all your college dates… It’s just so much.
“Are you pregnant?”
“What?” Namjoon’s eyes look like they’re about to pop out of his skull.
You let yourself laugh when you respond. “I don’t know! This just feels like the lead up to something big, you know? You’re pregnant, you have cancer, you’re moving to another country…” You trail off and then sit up straight, letting yourself get a little more serious. “What’s all this about? It feels like you have big news or… to be honest, it kind of feels like a date, Joon-ah.”
“Feels like a date good or feels like a date bad?” he asks.
“Feels like a date confusing,” you answer pointedly. “I don’t even know what you’re doing in town.”
“Can I walk you home?”
“That’s not an answer.”
He stands then, and reaches a hand out to you to help you up. You let him even though you don’t need it, and he pulls you into a hug. Tight against his chest, things feel a little less confusing and this seaside town feels a little more like home than it has in a really long time. It’s distressing how right it feels to be close to him like this, how he smells just like he always has, how soft his stupid sweater is under your cheek. You do everything you can not to nuzzle against him in a complete violation of any boundaries that both of you might have. It’s all you want to do though, and that’s disconcerting in and of itself.
“Yeah,” you mumble into his collar. “You can walk me home.”
You give him some grace as you walk, not repeating yourself for the millionth time with your request to know just exactly what he thinks he’s doing crashing back into your life with a half day’s notice. Then it occurs to you that he’s leading you home, which is fine except… you’re not sure how he seems to know where you live.
“Joon? How do you know where we’re going?”
“Huh?” He gives you a distracted glance like he didn’t quite intake your question.
“My apartment, how do you know where it is?”
“Oh…” His cheeks flush the prettiest rose color. “Ah… you were at that art show in the city a few nights ago, right when I got to town, and Tae invited everyone over. We’d been drinking and the bar was closing and he said you wouldn’t be there…” He gives you a pained sort of smile. “He said you wouldn’t mind. Said you’d be staying with friends.”
The idea that your ex was in your apartment without you knowing it is… well, it should be infuriating. But it’s not. It’s more like you want to know what he thought, if he liked it. If it felt like the you that he knew or a new version of you. If it felt familiar and different at the same time the way he does to you right now.
“So… you’ve been in our apartment then…” It’s not a question, but Namjoon answers anyway, rushing the words out.
“No! No.” He shakes his head. “I couldn’t do it. We got there and I… It felt like sneaking around and I couldn’t do that to you. I went back to Hoseok’s and crashed on his couch.”
“Oh… okay.” You can’t figure out why you’re almost disappointed. “You can see it now. If you want. If that’s something you’d be interested in, you know…” The words spill out in a rambly jumble.
Namjoon stops to consider you, head tilted like he’s trying to listen to words you’re not saying. He must find whatever he’s looking for, because he responds quickly. “Yeah, okay. I’d like that.”
“Okay.” You nod but don’t move.
“This is it, right?”
And it is, indeed. You’re standing in the middle of the sidewalk in front of your own building, too distracted by whatever this thing is with the two of you to notice where you are.
“Yeah, yeah. Come on up.” You punch the door code in and hold the door for him, bowing a little and giving an exaggerated gesture for him to enter to lighten the mood.
Taehyung, the world's most interesting roommate, is working an overnight shift, so you know he’s not home, but you pray he hasn’t left anything strange out in the living room. You’ve walked into your apartment to find it perfectly spotless except for a trumpet and a dildo sitting side-by-side on the coffee table before, and though you’ve never really discussed it for obvious reasons, you’re fairly confident it won’t happen again. But not one hundred percent.
“Tae’s working tonight,” you explain for some unknown reason as you unlock your door. It’s not like Namjoon is some third date here to fuck you for the first time, so it doesn’t matter if Tae’s there or not and he probably knows your roommate (his friend, too) is working, anyway.
“I heard,” he mumbles behind you.
To your extraordinary relief, nothing odd or personal is strewn around the living room or the kitchen, so you say a silent prayer of gratitude and slide your shoes off, motioning for Namjoon to do the same.
“This is it,” you say, in your most uncreative moment of the night. “It’s nicer than the last place you saw me living,” you joke. It is, though. Much nicer. Having Tae to split the costs helps, and your art has actually been selling for the past couple of years, so that’s afforded you a little more than the old studio with a leaky shower and what was probably mold around the windows.
“Mmm,” he murmurs as he looks around the open space. “It was nice ‘cos it was yours. It felt like you. But this does, too.”
“Water?” you offer.
“Sure, thanks.”
You fill up two glasses from the pitcher in the fridge and pad back into the living room where Namjoon is looking at the art on one of your walls. It’s a combination of your paintings and Tae’s photographs that the two of you thought complemented one another.
“Your art.”
“Yes…?”
“No…” Joon shakes his head and sets his water down on your coffee table. “Your art. It’s why I came back. That's why I’m here.”
“Oh,” you squeak. It’s not what you expected—you didn’t expect an answer to your question, and even if you’d hypothetically received one, ‘your art’ wasn’t what you’d thought it would be. “I don’t think I understand. You want to buy one or something? You can just have a painting, Joon-ah... Friends and family discount. You didn’t have to come here for that.”
He frowns and shakes his head again before he carefully takes your water glass and sets it on the table next to his. Then he reaches for your hand, and when you offer it to him, he guides you to your own sofa to sit.
This time, sitting too close like you were in the noodle shop, you’re the one who’s nervous. Something’s up with him, and you’re not connecting the dots.
“I saw your show. The solo one. Congratulations,” he says. His smile is warm like his hand that’s still wrapped around yours and it feels like you could maybe let your nerves settle a little bit.
“Thanks. It was a lot of work, but worth it. I’m still a little surprised at how well it was received.”
“I’m not.” He says it with conviction, and you love it. The hint of praise laced with his belief in you has always been a driver of your confidence; you don’t love that you need the external validation, but it’s nice, regardless.
“It reminded me of home,” he continues. “Made me sick for it. Like I couldn’t stand to be away from it for another minute. So, I told my work I needed some time off, and I came home.”
“Oh… Okay. Well, I’m glad you felt something… I hope being home has been what you wanted.”
“You don’t get it,” he says, frustrated. “I haven’t been home, not really. Not until tonight.”
“Joon-ah…”
“Please? Can I get this out?”
And there are so many things to feel, you’re not even sure where to begin, so you just listen. It’s not easy to ignore the feeling of being on edge, the idea that you think you know where he’s headed with this. Since you’ve never even let yourself consider it (you’ve really not let yourself think about him much since he left. Certainly not recently), you have no idea what to think. So you focus on him instead; the tendons that run from his hands up his forearms that you used to love to trace with your fingertips, the way he’s filled out some since you last saw him—his chest and shoulders are broader, his jeans hug his thighs tighter than you remember… He looks good. Great, even. Everything you remember but a little bit more. Like he’s become the person he was always meant to be.
“I’ve dated a lot of people since I left,” he starts. And maybe this isn’t going where you thought it was. You scoff involuntarily, and he rolls his eyes at you. “Can you just listen to me?” he asks.
You nod. “Sorry.”
“Not at first. I missed you. I couldn’t figure out why you never… I don’t know… Tried to talk me out of it, never asked me to stay. I thought it meant that maybe you didn’t love me the way I loved you. After a while, a few months maybe, Yoongi told me I was depressing to be around, that I should try and make friends, meet people. He reminded me that I was the one who left, not you. And he was right.”
“I remember,” you say. It comes out a little harsher than you’d intended, but maybe not ever letting yourself think too much about him (especially about him leaving) has left you with some unresolved feelings you weren’t totally aware of. Namjoon’s jaw tightens, but other than that, he doesn’t react. Maybe he knows he deserves you being a little upset. Things ended oddly fine between the two of you, it was amicable, but if you’d let yourself feel everything back then, it might not have been that way.
“I’m sorry,” he says, voice softer now. “I needed to go, though. You know I did.” He looks at you, waiting for you to give him some reassurance you think, so you squeeze his hand.
“Yeah, you did, Joon-ah. It’s okay.”
His fingertips trace patterns across your wrist and you can almost feel his body get looser when you give the small peace offering. “So,” he says, “I tried. I met people, I dated people, I moved to new apartments with new roommates to new parts of the city. I tried to get that feeling back. Not to… I don’t know. Not to replace you, but to feel like I was home. But nothing worked. Nobody worked. And then I saw your show.”
“Oh…” It’s not much, but it’s the only thing you can think to say as he pulls you closer to him on the couch and runs a thumb across your cheekbone. It’s so much, it’s such a private thing for him to touch you like you're something breakable. Like you’re his, still. It’s making you short-circuit.
“Home,” he says in a whisper. “I needed to come home.”
“Home.” You repeat it like he’s taken all the words you used to know and pulled them out of your head to scatter on the floor in a mess.
His lips are on yours before you have time to process, and you hear a whimper that you quickly realize must have come from your own throat as he kisses you more tentatively than you ever remember him kissing you before. You know this is him testing the waters, giving you time to decide if you want this—sort of—and maybe this is a one-night nostalgia thing for him, or maybe this is what forgiveness tastes like, and maybe it’s a terrible idea, but Namjoon’s lips on yours feel like home to you, too, and you don’t want to talk yourself out of something that feels so fucking right. You didn’t even let yourself remember that you missed him until now, and your chest aches with something like longing even though he’s here, he’s real, he’s kissing you.
Kiss back, you remember suddenly. So you do. A slightly shaking hand moves to his thigh as you let him slip his tongue between your lips and lick into your mouth slowly. He’s firmer than you remember when you squeeze over his jeans and tilt your head to give him a little bit better access. The kiss, which started out so sweet, soon turns into something else entirely, and before you know it, you’re out of breath and letting out another whine when his hand drops from your cheek to around your waist and he tugs you even closer to him. You can feel him smile against your mouth when you pause to breathe.
“Is this okay?” he asks, cheeks flushed, dimples out, and hair mussed. He looks like a dream.
He looks like he’s yours again, and you want to let yourself have this, even if it’s temporary.
“Yeah.” You nod too furiously to even look remotely cool or in control of the situation, and he laughs. It’s not like he looks much better off with his swollen lips and the stars in his eyes. “Bedroom.” You’re up and pulling him up with you before he can argue, practically dragging him behind you past Tae’s room and the bathroom to yours at the end of the hall.
You move into your room and barely get the door closed before you’re being pushed back up against it, Namjoon moving his mouth down your neck, over your pulse point– all his attention focused on seeing what might make you shiver and whine. So much hasn’t changed.
It’s odd, you think, as he finds the perfect spot, to have to learn this all over with someone. Does he remember all your places and all the things you like? Will he still be patient like he used to be, content to watch you get worked up because of his touch before he lets you focus on him? Will he have new things that make him moan, are there new things he likes that he learned from someone else? All these questions float through your head as Namjoon slowly slips his hands under your shirt and pulls it over your head.
With your back against the wall, Namjoon drops to his knees in front of you and carefully unbuttons your jeans, slipping them down your legs with your underwear, groaning and face flushing when he finally gets you undressed.
“You… are… incredible,” he mutters against your skin in between leaving hot, wet kisses across your pelvic bone. “I’ve missed you so much,” he adds as he hooks one of your legs and rests it on his shoulder. His breath is hot on your skin and it’s like you can feel it everywhere—he’s barely even touching you and every nerve ending in your body is responding, wanting more.
As he brings his tongue to your clit, you let your head fall back against the door with a soft thud. He was always so good at this, he still is. His stubble brushes against you and makes shivers run up your spine. He’d probably not shaved that morning—you wonder if he did on purpose, remembering how you used to brush your cheek along his chin and tell him you liked it, how it made you feel soft and delicate when he wasn’t.
His tongue works you over in long strokes, dipping inside on occasion and you hear him practically whine when he really tastes you. There’s never been anything hotter, you decide, than his deep voice so fucked out and turned on because of you. If you could get off on sound alone for the rest of your life, that might be the one you’d pick.
When he finally slides a finger inside you, you moan—you’re so much louder than you’d meant to be, louder than you have been for anyone in so long, but he knows you. Knows your body, knows just how fast to move his tongue, how deeply you like to feel him inside you.
Namjoon’s lips form into a smile against you as he pauses, asking in a whisper, “Can I make you do that again?” before curling his finger inside you and taking your clit back between his lips.
“Oh, fuck…” you whine. And yes, the answer is definitely yes. “Keep going,” you say as he fucks into you, giving you space to roll your hips away from the door and into his face.
It doesn’t take much longer for you to come—Namjoon puts a large hand to your waist and helps support you as you tremble around him and your knee buckles. With a lot of effort, you ignore the quiet, private voice in the back of your mind that tells you that you don’t deserve this—that you shouldn’t be doing this, that you’ll get hurt again. Finally, your shaking subsides, and he moves your leg off of his shoulder and to the ground, keeping a grasp on you to help you stay upright.
“You’re… still very good at that,” you say breathily.
“Thank you. I’m pretty good at a lot of things, I think,” he says with a wink as he stands.
You love when he’s cheeky like this, confident in a way that you remember being one of his best traits. Like he knows exactly what he’s capable of. It’s the first time you’ve seen him like this tonight and it makes you ache for things you don’t think you can have, for the past. He’s suddenly close again, so fucking close, and you can smell yourself on his lips and you can feel that he’s hard in his jeans. He leans in, even closer, bringing his lips to yours but not doing anything with them, and running a single fingertip across your jaw to hold your face in place—no place to look except at him, square in the eyes.
“Are there things you’re still good at?”
Oh, holy shit.
And you’d remained upright this whole time, but fuck if your knees aren’t ready to give in now. You swallow audibly and struggle to form an answer in your post-orgasmic haze, turned on by the nostalgia and the way he’s half-whispering, half-rasping. The intimate way he speaks to you makes you almost drip again with desire.
“Well, if you’re not going to tell me, I guess I’ll find out for myself,” he says. Namjoon grabs your hand and squeezes, then leads you to your own bed. “Do you want me to find out? Do you want… me?”
It should be something you have to think about longer, should be more of a consideration. But it isn’t at all. Your head is bobbing a ‘yes’ of its own accord and you’re slowly unbuttoning his jeans and pulling his sweater off before you really realize you’re doing it, before you can think about what it might mean in the morning. Before he slips out of his pants, he pulls a condom out of his wallet in the pocket and tosses it on the bed.
The simple action has you a little nervous now, like suddenly this is real, and this is Namjoon, the actual love of your fucking life who left you, and he must see it on your face as you stand next to the bed, naked, facing one another, and unmoving.
“Are you alright?” he asks.
“Yeah… I’m nervous. It’s been so long and it’s… you.”
Namjoon cups your cheek and brings his lips softly to yours. His other arm snakes around your waist and pulls your body into his—skin to skin everywhere, and it feels so good. His body really is different than you remember: firmer, broader, bigger, and you like it. It’s different, but just as good, you decide. Familiar and different at the same time, just like everything else about him. When he breaks the kiss, he finally speaks.
“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”
“I do,” you say resolutely, convincing him and yourself at the same time. You bend over to grab the condom and feel his hands on your ass, so you stay, dropping to your elbows on the mattress, remembering how he’s always appreciated the view from that angle. “Do you still like it this way, Joon-ah?” you ask as you push your hips back toward him a little, leaning into the familiar to calm any lingering nerves.
And instead of answering, Namjoon slides his hands up your back and down your arms, pulling you up at the elbows and pressing your back into his chest. “Yes,” he replies. “But not this time. I want to see you, I want to know I’m taking care of you. I want to remember.”
He starts kissing you then, lips on your neck, across your shoulders, hands wrapped around you—one teasing at your nipples, one firm around your waist. You do feel taken care of, and it’s nice, you decide, to be with him again. This part hasn’t changed. You meant what you said—he’s really good at this.
Eventually, you move to the bed, and you become a little more brave, letting yourself explore his body. As you lay facing each other, you run your fingers along the ridges of the muscles in his abdomen, stroke his cheekbones, let one arm snake around his ribs and then fall to his ass. He really is firm all over, and you find yourself more attracted to that than you’d anticipated. You murmur appreciations into his skin, telling him he’s worked hard, that he looks incredible, that you want to take your time and appreciate everything he’s tried to build.
Namjoon watches you as you test the waters, carefully mapping the ridges and planes until you take his length in your palm and start stroking him. The first time he breaks eye contact with you is when you bring your other hand down and palm his balls, softly squeezing as his eyes roll back in his head and he lets out a long, low moan.
Maybe things aren’t so different than you remember, after all.
You touch and kiss and whisper until you know he’s been hard long enough and you’ve been stalling long enough, and his hand makes lazy circles over your clit, no problem getting you wet again. Namjoon rolls the condom on and pulls your leg up over his hip. He’s careful in a manner that’s completely him (but you’re no longer used to from your recent hookups) as he slowly pushes into you. And you’ve been in a lot of… positions in the last few years, but nothing quite this intimate: chests pressed together, arms wrapped around each other, noses touching, and Namjoon so deep inside you, moving so, so slowly. You’re almost not moving at all, and you had no idea something like that could feel so fucking good.
It’s slow and sweet, and he kisses and caresses you, and you realize that this is was what people are talking about when they talk about the difference between making love and fucking.
Namjoon is quiet, quieter than you remember, but the look on his face is reverent, like he can’t believe you’re letting him do this, like he can’t believe you’re real. And you know how he feels, and you want to reassure him and whisper how much you care about him and how you think you could still love him, but it’s all too much for the moment. So, instead, you just let out soft moans of approval when he rolls his hips in just the right way and otherwise try to focus on him and the way he’s making you feel, cock buried in you, better than anything has been since the night before he left all those years ago.
Your second peak comes steadily and seems to last a while as Namjoon whispers how beautiful you look and how lucky he is. The praise has you clenching around him and pulling his climax out of him, too.
You stay intertwined as your breathing slows, kissing and smiling with pink cheeks and tired limbs. When you’re sure you can move, you slowly push back from him and roll off the side of the bed, grabbing his undershirt. “You mind?” you ask, holding it up. “I thought I’d grab water and if there’s anything else you want…”
“Sounds great,” Namjoon replies, a sleepy smile on his face, obvious in his preening over you wearing his clothes again.
You try not to let yourself think too much about what just happened as you retrieve your water glasses and fill them up again. You find your phone on the counter, next to Namjoon’s, and you shoot a quick text to Tae telling him you brought someone home and you don’t know if they’ll still be there in the morning. You don’t want your roommate to be surprised by a visitor. But you know if Namjoon’s still there when he gets home, Tae will definitely be surprised.
When you pad back to your bedroom and click the door shut behind you, you realize Namjoon’s already fallen asleep, snoring softly. He looks ridiculous on top of your sheet with the duvet kicked down to the end of the bed, his big cock soft against his big thigh and his hair sticking up in fifty different directions all over your pillow. His lips have fallen open to let his stupid snores out, and you have never been more endeared to anyone in your life.
Like a thunderbolt, it comes suddenly, the realization that you think you probably never stopped loving this man.
You set the water down on your nightstand and crawl into bed next to him, careful not to wake him up, even though unless something’s changed, you know he’s a fairly deep sleeper. You pull the duvet up over both of you and settle into your pillow, thoughts of unresolved and maybe unrequited feelings still clouding your mind.
He wakes up enough to roll over and sling an arm around you, possessive in a way you like. You miss being his, you miss the quiet way he loved you before. All folded up love notes and kind gestures and small gifts for no reason. You almost let yourself tear up thinking about how big your love for him used to feel—maybe still does.
You’re fully spiraling, deciding this was probably a massive mistake, when Namjoon strokes his thumb over your stomach and nuzzles into the back of your neck.
“Baby? You awake?” he mumbles, half-asleep.
And fuck, you’ve missed the casual endearment from him. “Yeah.”
“Do you want me to go?” he asks.
And you know three years ago, if you would have said it, it wouldn’t have mattered. That’s the real truth of it. Because if you’d asked him to stay then, he wouldn’t have, and he would have been making the right choice to leave, anyway. So letting him go without putting up a fight was easier on both of you. It was the right decision then to not ask him to stay.
But now? Now, after tonight, you know things aren’t the same as back then. Some of them, yes. But not the ones that matter, not the ones you’re thinking about when you reply.
“No, Joon-ah… I want you to stay this time.”
You feel him smile against your shoulder and pull you tighter into him. Neither of you says anything more, and it’s only a few minutes before he starts his snuffling snores into your hair again. It feels nice, you think as you finally start to drift off. It feels like home.
#bts imagines#bts fic#bts fanfic#btswritingcafe#namjoon fic#namjoon smut#namjoon x reader#namjoon imagine#bts smut#namjoon#namjoon x you
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#ok so if i wanna do a phd in the uk im prob gonna have to try for some scholarships#so now im stuck staring at the stupid very competitive scholarship listings#and like i mean ill go for it i guess but there is no fucking way im gonna get then#bc the 2 thst would cover the whole thing are either fulbright or the one specific to the institution. which is an prestigious uni so like#also super competitive. and then i look at what they want and of course they want leadership qualities#and i just. im like god. someone else deserves this more than me#im an awkward anxious person. i could say that im trying my best to walk toward a place where i could me a leader#that could be my angle. like overcoming my stupid dyslexic brain and inability to be a human#and like. going to the uk was part of what forced me outta my shell and kinda changed my whole life#so i mean. i guess that's something#but like i just feel horribly embarrassed when they ask for like community outreach or whatever bc im like hhh i go to the lab at weird#times so i dont have to interface with ppl. i have nothing to contribute to society. sorry for taking ur time. goodbye#but ugh i might as well go for it i guess. it just feels real bad to have to present ur merits as a person like thst when u dont have much#to put on the table. i mean ive got my school stuff. ive done things. but does any of that have any value other#than occuping my brain? idk#sigh... i need to find more labs. and im meeting with a guy Wednesday. hopefully thst goes well. then i dont have to think abt this...#unrelated
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ੈ♡ DATING MATT HC’S!! ⋆｡˚
summary- Matt dating fem reader
warnings- none I don’t think
✩DATES I feel like dates for Matt consist of food and literally doing anything together 😭 (very simple guy) you guys could be sitting at the kitchen counter or in his car eating Taco Bell and laughing from scrolling through TikTok and bro will go home thinking you guys just had the most romantic date ever. It’s honestly super cute because he never gets bored of you and just being there with you makes him feel happy. (Cue nothing by Bruno mars☝🏽)
✩COMPLIMENTS bro is the rizzler idc what you or yo mamma says. He knows exactly what has you kicking and giggling and what makes you bust out laughing. Especially when guys come up to you and say something corny, he can tell how hard your trying to keep in your laugh to not hurt the poor guys feelings which makes him want to laugh even more. It’s honestly adorable when he compliments you because it’s literally out of nowhere. Which is why it makes your heart flutter every time because how genuine it is. “Wait when did you get your nails done? They look so good baby let me see” and he takes your hand SHOOT ME NOW OMG
✩LOVE LANGUAGE is 100% quality time. He’s always trying to invite you places and when you simply cannot show up he feels like you most literally never want to speak to him again. You’ve never felt so terrible. You always make it up to him tho which makes him feel a tiny bit better. Most of the time tho he understands but still tries to throw in a slight joke cause why not. “You’re not coming? Well just say you want to break up damn.” You never find it funny😭. He’s always trying to get you into every vlog and car video. He just wants to be in your presence 24/7 and you don’t mind not one bit. Unless you do then you’re literally lying but wtv. He also feels like he needs you to be there in case he really needs you. If he’s getting jumped by his brothers and losing an argument he’s 100% sure he’s correct about (the horror and betrayal on his face when you tell him he’s wrong) or if he’s scared to do something on his own and needs you to help or simply do it for him. He’s just so boyfriend ugh I can’t do it.
✩KISSING omfg I’ve been waiting for this moment. FOREHEAD AND SHOULDER KISSES BRO. You can tell this has been on my mind for a while. He’s just so sweet with it too he’ll just grab you face and plant a cute ass kiss on your forehead ughhhhhhh I hate this man. Or if he’s comforting you and your face is in his neck and he’s rubbing your back and he places kisses on your shoulder. Bonus points if you’re sitting on his lap.
✩ANNOYING THINGS HE DOES I feel like he can be your favorite person and your worst enemy at the same time. He definitely just randomly jabs you in the side with his finger. Bro idk if this has ever happened to you guys but that shit doesn’t fucking tickle it HURTS SO BAD. And he’ll just keep doing it whenever for whatever. At the most random times too like it’ll be dead silent and he just jabs you in the ribs with the straightest face while your body just gives the most dramatic reaction. He doesn’t care how much you hate it actually he’ll keep on😭. It makes you laugh most of the time and you’ll complain but sometimes your just not in the mood and you get so annoyed and give the most attitude cause what is he doing..he looks at you with furrowed brows “what is wrong with you??” And start just attacking you and jabbing you everywhere possible and you are hurting. You’re trying to yell and be mad but it turns into laughing and now you’re just stuck like that. Sorry
That’s it I’m going to bed but Matt is tloml just needed this to be cleared🫶🏽
#sturniolo triplets#matt sturniolo#matt sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo x you#fanfic#headcanon#x reader#fiction
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‘𝑪𝑨𝑼𝑺𝑬 𝑰’𝑴 𝒀𝑶𝑼𝑹 𝑱𝑨𝒁𝒁 𝑺𝑰𝑵𝑮𝑬𝑹, 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝒀𝑶𝑼’𝑹𝑬 𝑴𝒀 𝑪𝑼𝑳𝑻 𝑳𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑹 — kai anderson
✧. headcanon tags: fem! reader. mention of murder. ꒰ dating kai anderson headcanons ꒱ ⨾
kai enjoys reading in his free time, (when he’s not plotting world domination)
his favourites are by machiavelli, tolstoy, nietzsche and shakespeare. he often quotes them in fucked up situations.
“good night, sweet prince, and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.”
like when he tortured RJ with a nail gun, he quoted hamlet. that part killed me.)
so he expects you to read too so he can carry an intelligent conversation with you. quality time, like a two-person book club.
after all, the future mother of his messiah baby can’t be an ‘uneducated hoe’.
you should be grateful that at least he doesn’t demand you to hand in a five-page book report every week (yet).
x
super possessive and gets jealous very easily. if a cult member dared to look in your direction, well, too bad for them.
kai is very creative when it comes to punishments. in the cruelest, most horrific ways imaginable.
tolerant of pda. in public, he allows you to hold onto his arm. don’t expect him to reciprocate though, he doesn’t want to be regarded as a simp.
if he catches other men checking you out, he’ll put an arm around your waist or squeeze your ass in a possessive way. glaring daggers to remind those bastards that he owns you.
at home, he displays affection in the most subtle of ways: a hand on the small of your back, his chin resting on your shoulder as he inspects whatever food you’re cooking for him.
while watching cult documentaries together on the couch, his arms casually resting on the backrest, hand grazing against your shoulder.
idly playing with a strand of your hair during commercials.
you have each other’s initials tattooed on the inner side of your pinky fingers.
he took you to his dead parents’ bedroom and introduced you to his mother.
he lets you help dyeing/cutting his hair. only you and winter are allowed with that special‘privilege’.
x
dates with him always feel like they’re completely random and impromptu.
(that’s what he wants you to think. what would his followers think if they found out the divine ruler spends time planning out dates for his girlfriend?)
“get dressed. we’re leaving in five minutes.” is code for “i’m taking you out on a date but don’t you dare make a big deal out of it.”
if he gives you ten or fifteen minutes to prepare, it means he’s taking you somewhere upscale so you better look nice.
his eyes always give that slight flicker of approval when he sees you wearing that dress he loves seeing you in.
(already imagining that dress on the bedroom floor.)
“do i look okay in this dress?”
“i’d fuck you in it,”
“…”
x
kai is good at reading people, pinpointing their weaknesses and using them to his advantage. though with you, it's done in a less malicious manner. don’t get me wrong, he’s still controlling as hell, but it's his twisted way of showing care for you.
he remembers everything that you’ve ever told him about yourself. literally everything.
even though he generally appears to be disinterested or zoned out when you’re talking, he’s silently cataloging every piece of information about you in his head. for later use.
he plays dumb. pretends to know little about you, in hopes to extract more info.
but then he accidentally let slip the fact that remembers the name of your bitchy grade school teacher, whom you once mentioned ages ago.
“ugh, that old lady in the checkout line reminded me of-”
“your 3rd grade bitch teacher. mrs davenport.”
“Well yeah.. wait, how’d you even know-”
and he’s staring back at you with a blank expression like: ‘duh. you told me, stupid.’
x
winter is your number-one shipper.
you always manage to bring out the old kai. the brother she grew up with : sweet, awkward, and funny. those were fleeting moments, but better than nothing.
and she’s grateful that someone can actually put up with her screwed-up brother, so she’s constantly in dread that one day he’ll push too far and you’ll leave.
winter knows that kai cares a great deal about you, more than he’s ever willing to admit.
x
during fights, he can’t bring himself to yell at you for too long when you’re crying.
he’s witnessed the way his shitbag father had treated his mother. so he just stands there, jaw clenched, fists balled as he tries to control himself.
most of the time, he leaves the room quickly, for the both of you to calm down. which is probably for best.
on rare occasions, when winter is absolutely livid at his assholery and the way he treated you, he finally realises that he had went too far, so he comes looking for you, feeling a bit.. guilty.
when he sees your tear-stained face, he sighs, mumbles something like:
“ugh.. can’t believe you’re still crying.. c’mere.”
then he outstretches his arms to you, kiss the top of your head and holds tightly to you, as you sniffle into his chest.
that is when you know that he is truly sorry without saying the actual words.
that small gesture is the kai anderson equivalent of begging on his knees for your forgiveness.
it’s just that his ego won’t allow him to apologize like a normal person. so he makes up by being sweeter to you the rest of the day.
because if there’s anything that scares him more than bruising his ego, it’s the possibility of losing you.
fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. please do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.
#american horror story#kai anderson#kai anderson x y/n#kai anderson x reader#ahs cult#ahs#ahs fandom#kai anderson headcanons#kai anderson x you#ahs fanfic#Kai Anderson imagines#ahs imagines
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day 3 ; quickie
↠ sam giddings x reader
fandom: until dawn
word count: 1.1k
warnings: nsfw 18+, fem!reader, dom!reader, "Tex" as reader's nickname, physical descriptions of reader (tall, muscular), cunnilingus, fingering, praise
kinktober m.list || read on ao3 || takes place in the same universe as and before the events of outlast
You loved your friends dearly, but it was almost impossible to get some quality time with just your girlfriend when they were around.
Your group’s annual trip to the Washington’s cabin during winter break was, yes, a time to spend with each other and away from the stress of the real world, but it doubled as a fun little vacation for you and your girlfriend.
Everyone was hanging out in the living room, eating snacks and debating what you guys were going to do for the rest of the night when Sam stands up.
“I’m going to go take a quick bath,” she says, wiping her hands on a napkin and taking a final swig on her drink before handing it to you.
“Ugh, seriously?” Jess whines. “I wanted to go in there!” You rolled your eyes, seeing as Jess clearly did not up until Sam announced it. Her bottle of beer was almost empty, and her hand was still stuffed into a bowl of popcorn.
Sam sighs, wringing her hands. “I'll be five minutes, tops. Won’t even notice that I left.”
Jess groans as she turns back to whatever conversation she was having with Emily. Sam disappears upstairs, and you know this may be your only chance to have uninterrupted one-on-one time with your girlfriend.
You wrap your mind trying to find an ideal lie to tell to the group to sneak away and join Sam. “I’m going to go see if she grabbed a towel.”
No one seems to mind you except for Mike gives you a knowing stare, raising an eyebrow as if to say really? You send a glare his way and hold up a middle finger to him behind your back. You can hear his muffled laughter as you turn to follow Sam.
You slip into the bathroom, making sure to lock the door behind you. Sam had been taking off her clothes, her shirt already discarded to the side and her hands fumbling with the bra hooks.
She gasps and spins when the door slams, her body tensing up. But she immediately relaxes and strides over to slap your shoulder.
“Tex!” Sam hisses. “I told Jess I’d only be—”
“Five minutes. I was right there, you know.” You start to slowly unbutton her shorts, sinking to your knees in front of her. “I can do a lot in five minutes.”
You seat Sam down on the edge of the tub as you fully remove her shorts, leggings and underwear. You start teasing her, marking kisses on her inner thighs as you move your way up to her pussy. She lets out a shaky sigh, gripping the edge of the cool, white, tub.
Sam is already starting to get wet, her insides glistening as you move to eat her out. You swirl your tongue all around, making sure to pay attention to her clit. “Oh fuck,” she moans out as you glue yourself to her pussy. Her hands find your hair and she tugs, anchoring herself as she arches herself into you.
You can feel her wetness all around your mouth as you pull back, licking your lips. You only had five minutes, so you knew you needed to move quickly.
“Get in the tub,” you instruct as you begin to take off your own clothes.
Sam complies eagerly, swiveling her hips and submerging herself in the water that she previously drew. You join her moments later, straddling her as you kiss her, cupping her face with your hands.
She moans into the kiss, and runs her own hands up your chest, teasing your breasts. She squeezes them, ghosting her thumbs over your nipples. Goosebumps begin to cover your skin and a shock is sent down your spine.
You press your body to hers, grabbing her hips to grind yourselves together. You move a hand down her stomach pressing a finger over her clit. Sam gasps at the sensation, allowing you the opportunity to move your tongue into her mouth. The kiss you share becomes sloppy, saliva escaping and rolling down your chin. Sam pulls away, a string connecting the two of you.
“Are you only going to kiss me or what?” She remarks teasingly, panting slightly from the intensity of your makeout.
You laugh, and at the same time move your hand to carefully insert two fingers, beginning to pump them in and out of her. “Baby, you know I’ve got more,” you reply. Water starts splashing all around you as you maneuver your fingers, some of it escaping the rim of the circular tub.
“Oh my god,” Sam whines. Her cheeks are flushed now, and her chest heaves as she catches her breath. “Fuck, that feels amazing.”
Her hips subconsciously buck against your fingers as she chases more of you. You add a third, a yelp leaving Sam’s lips. You soothe her with another kiss and thumb at her clit while pumping your fingers in and out, curling them inside her walls.
“There you go. You’re being so good for me.” Sam whines at your praise and her head falls back. You can feel the way she clamps around your fingers, simultaneously clutching onto your arm. Her feet kick in the water from the pleasure.
Sam’s orgasm comes after a long build up, her moans becoming louder and you increasing in pace inside her. Her walls flutter against you, and even underneath the water you can feel her release coat your fingers.
You pepper kisses all over your girlfriend’s face as she begins to come down from her peak. You start to drain the tub and wipe it clean from any leftover evidence of yours and Sam’s short escapade.
A loud banging from the door startles the both of you. “Sam?” Jess’s voice rings from behind the door. “Come on, Sam! It’s been, like, a while!”
The two of you stare at each other with wide eyes for a second before scrambling to dry off quickly and put your clothes back on.
“Just a minute!” Sam calls out, her voice strained from before. You’re able to get yourself looking presentable before your girlfriend and instead of trying to hide, you open the door just as Sam finishes buttoning up her shorts.
An annoyed Jess meets your gaze, who looked surprised to see you for a brief moment before annoyance passes across her face. “Seriously?” She crosses her arms and juts a hip out, glaring at you and then Sam, who pokes her head out from around you.
Sam looks a bit sheepish and apologetic, but you just roll your eyes. “The bathtub is clean. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”
“God, you’re so annoying. Get a room!” Jess strides past you two into the bathroom.
You turn to her and smirk. “Don’t worry. We are.” You pull Sam along, rushing to your shared room to finish what you started.
#kinktober#kinktober 2023#sam giddings x reader#samantha giddings x reader#sam giddings#until dawn#until dawn x reader#sam giddings smut
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Steve spending the night at Eddie’s because his parents are home and they’ve been arguing so he doesn’t really wanna be at home. Didn’t go to Robin because her parents might not let him stay the night and also Robin has work tomorrow and Steve doesn’t. The odd case of them not having shift together.
So he ends up with Eddie and in the morning he is having breakfast with Eddie and Wayne and they discuss their plans for the day. Eddie and Wayne have some plans for the day. You know, to spend some quality family time maybe? Or maybe they have just some errands to run, stuff to figure out because of all the shit that went down during spring break.. Whatever, they have plans for the day and Steve.. doesn’t want to intrude any more than he already is so he is not going with them. Even when they say he can come too.
And it’s summer time so the kids are busy with whatever the teens are busy with. And Steve loves them dearly and loves spending time with them but he tries to give them space and not smother them with his worrying so yeah he can’t spend the day with them either. They’ll come to him if they need him.. He could always go bother Robin at work but going to your work place on your free day because you have nothing better to do sounds a little sad.. So maybe he’ll just have to suck it up and go back home then.
But then Eddie offers that he could stay. You know he doesn’t have to leave just because Wayne and Eddie do. Like he could stay, it’s fine. They’ll be back by 6 or so and they could have dinner together then? And since Steve really really really doesn’t want to go home right now he accepts (after asking about thousand times if it’s really okay tho).
So soon he is left alone with a “Feel free to educate yourself with my music collection while we’re gone” and see you laters. Steve didn’t really have any plans for today and he kinda left in a hurry too so he didn’t bring much stuff with him but oh well he’ll figure something out.
He starts collecting the breakfast dishes and well he could wash them. He has the time and it would be just nice little gesture since the Munsons let him stay and all. And then it just makes sense to wipe the counters and the table after that. Like who would wash the dishes and then just leave crumbs all over the place? Oh. And I guess he just got some of those crumbs to the floor now. Well it’s just a quick little sweep. Could vacuum the whole place now too since he started. But first he needs to declutter a bit because goddamn Eddie why are your clothes and books just everywhere. Might as well do some laundry while he’s at it.
When Eddie and Wayne come back home around 6pm the place they’re in for a quite a shock. Not only is the place spotless but they’re greeted with the smell of food as well. “Oh you’re back! I’m making dinner, it’s just about done” Steve welcomes them enthusiastically but start to doubt himself a little after seeing the surprised faces. “I.. hope that’s okay”
Only then Steve realizes he may have got little carried away with his cleaning spree. Like maybe cleaning the windows was a tad bit too much.. Ugh he so hopes they’re not too weirded out.. Honestly he didn’t even realize he basically spent all day doing household chores that and it’s not even his own house. He glad the Munsons don’t comment on it too much tho, other than “you didn’t have to” and slightly awkward thank yous.
They start eating and now they drown Steve in compliments.
(“Wow this is so good, what brand is this?”
“Uhm.. it’s not a-.. I made it”
“…Like from scratch?!”
“Yeah..”
“Holy shit dude this is seriously so fucking delicious”
“Language. But he is right son, this is fucking delicious”)
At some point during dinner Wayne makes a comment about it starting to rain and Steve lets out a shocked gasp “my laundry!” and rushes out to collect it from outside where he hung it to dry. Wayne asks amusedly if Steve is a housewife or something, just ready to crack little jokes there but then spots the dopey smile on his nephew’s face, gaze still lingering in the doorway where Steve run off to. He smiles knowingly at Eddie when he finally looks back at him, now starting to blush and trying to stammer some sort of reply.
Steve comes back in and they finish dinner and hang out a bit together until Steve and Eddie go to Eddie’s room. Steve again apologizes because he got so carried away and hope he didn’t cross any lines. Eddie little amusedly asks if Steve really thinks they’d be mad at him for tidying up the place? Just helping them out a little so they can relax? Like in all seriousness, after all that shit show that happened during spring, Wayne could use a little break and just relax.
(“And you couldn’t?”
“Well sure I could, but in this case he needs it more. If you haven’t noticed I’m not much of help in the cleaning department”
“Oh yeah, I’ve noticed”
“Hey!”
“What? You asked!”)
Eddie then asks if Steve “educated himself” with the music. Steve tells to educate him himself. Eddie takes that as a challenge.
Steve spends the other night.
#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#st steddie#wayne munson#anyone can be a baby girl but it takes a man to be a wife and all that#steve getting into cleaning zone might be me projecting but let’s not talk about that#he also feels like he needs to be useful to be welcome <3#I was supposed to write a quick funny headcanon but it became this monstrosity🤡#also waited too long to post this and now I'm anxious because this is so messy#Steve please come clean my brain too#silly thoughts#Also got tired of typing so I'm gonna just stop here good bye
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Jealousy Party
SugarDaddy!CEO!Stucky x reader
Summary: The throuple goes to a charity party where the reader aims to make her boys jealous. After watching a man hit on her for a while, the boys drag the reader off to an empty office to remind her who she belongs to.
18+ MDNI!!
Word Count: 1,621
Warnings: Rough sex, Captain/Sergeant kink, Spanking, possessiveness and jealousy, Degrading names like: slut/whore, so much praise: Good girl, pretty girl, Doll, sweetheart, Dumbification, Light Choking, Unprotected P in V sex, Size difference/kink, Oral sex (M recieving), Double penetration
This is my first time writing smut! please be nice
Most of the parties you visit with your CEO boyfriends are long, boring and all about work, and future meetings. At least there is good-quality alcohol every time.
Bucky and Steve quickly got dragged off to mingle and talk to investors or whatever demanded their attention more than you. While you and your close friend/bodyguard Natasha sat at the bar. “Ugh- are they Still talking to that dumb blonde Nat?”
“Unfortunately yes, your boys don’t seem interested in talking to her. At least for this long” Natasha rolls her eyes while scanning the room, specifically your boys and some intern Sharon or whatever her name is “You want their attention? I have an idea”
Turning towards your red-haired friend you see the glimmer of mischief and grin “What kind of idea? It better be good Natty”
“The kind that gets you fucked so good, none of you even remember that intern over there” Natasha smugly smirks as she watches you think about her offer.
“I’m in, what’s the plan?” You reply and Natasha reaches over to adjust your dress, revealing more leg, and more cleavage. Making the red dress look even smaller and more scandalous. “Now, for the last part, see that man over there?” Natasha gestures over to a lone man standing by the bar. You don’t recognize him but he is quite attractive. “Go flirt with him, or make it look like you are. The boys will see and get so jealous”
“Natty- I don't think it’s a good idea! What if they get mad, or assume the worst?” You stutter, nervously wringing your hands together before Nat pats you on the back “Hey, you don’t have to. It’s just a suggestion babe”
Taking a deep breath you down your last shot and smile at Nat “I’m gonna do it- wish me luck” before casually walking over to the brunette, bearded stranger. Sliding into a stool beside him and ordering a margarita.
“Hello there gorgeous” The man turns to you “What brings you moving a few seats down?” You see his eyes slightly look you up and down, before returning to your face.
With a blush rising to your cheeks “Well- I saw you and thought I’d come to say hi” Seeing Natasha give you a thumbs up and nod towards Steve and Bucky, who when looking over you see them watching you and the mystery man closely. “I maybe also plan to make my boyfriends jealous… I understand if you want me to just go”
“Heh- jealousy hmm? Well, I’m Ari, what do you want me to do?” Smirking he rests a hand on your arm smiling down at you, his eyes never leaving your face.
“Well Ari, we can just sit here, talk and look like we are flirting, but no actual flirting okay?” you say as you smile up at him, internally smirking as you see Steve and Bucky grip their drinks and glare daggers at Ari.
“I can do that, just uh- don't let those two boyfriends of yours kill me?” Smiling sweetly he rubs your arm gently “They look awfully upset, I hope this was worth it pretty girl”
Glancing over to where your boyfriends stood- wait no they were no longer there. Where did they go? Feeling the body heat of two people you turn on the stool to see two very angry men. “Excuse us for a bit- we and our girlfriend need a moment” Steve grits out as he lightly tugs on your arm. “Come on sweetheart”
Turning to Ari you give him a smile and a thumbs up, as both boys flank your sides and guide you out of the party.
They say nothing as they walk down a hallway into an empty office, pushing you in and locking the door, before turning and looking down at you. “Hey, boys… I can explain-”
“That’s not necessary Doll, we know exactly what you were doing” Bucky cuts you off, both men slowly walking towards you, guiding you back towards the desk. “You are a jealous little slut, you just wanted our attention, are we correct?”
Bumping into the desk, you look up at them whimpering as you feel your panties soak up your arousal that’s so obvious you are sure they can smell it. “Y-yes Sergeant… you were talking to that blonde intern for too long- It was Nat’s idea I swear! Please don’t be mad” Blushing red at your own rambling, Your men just smirk.
“It’s okay pretty girl- we aren’t mad at you” Steve coos as he fiddles with the hem of your dress, before slowly pulling it up and turning you to bend over the desk. “But I think you need a reminder of who you belong to and that we belong to you Doll”
You feel a hand caress your hair, looking up you see Bucky in front of you with his thick veiny cock out, which makes your mouth water “So be a good girl and let us ruin your slutty body, then we will take you home and lavish you again. Sound good?”
Moaning at the thought you spread your legs for Steve, as he pulls your dress up to reveal your pantieless pussy. “Fuck- you really are a little whore? Huh, baby. Buck, she decided to not wear any panties”
Both men groan loudly, mockingly laughing as Steve slowly rubs your clit. “Such a pretty pussy, she must have missed us hmm? So needy baby” Whimpering and whining you rut your hips back onto his fingers “Please Captain! Mmm please fuck me make me cum! Sergeant please” pouting your lips as you look up at Bucky, as he smirks down at you rubbing his thumb across your bottom lip.
“You gonna be a good girl for us? Hmm? I wanna see you go dumb on our cocks. A helpless drooling mess for us and only us!” Bucky demands as he rubs his cock along your lips. Your mouth falling open, and tongue rolling out to lick against his red tip.
As Bucky’s cock slowly rubs against your tongue, you feel Steve prod and stretch open your pussy with his thick fingers. “Look at yea… so wet, all for your Captain and Sergeant” Deciding you are stretched open enough Steve pulls his fingers out, and offers them to Bucky who sucks your essence off of them with a moan, his eyes rolling back, exaggerating his movements for your and steve's pleasure.
You reach up and suck on the tip of Bucky’s cock, moaning at the salty taste of precum, while wiggling your hips back onto Steve’s hard cock. “Oh- good girl~ such a naughty little one we have huh Bucky” Steve rubs your ass and slowly thrusts his cock into you. His is thinner than Bucky’s but it is longer, letting him reach each part of your pussy with each thrust. “Take it- just like that! Mm good little whore”
Moaning as Steve begins to roughly thrust into you, his hips pounding against your ass with each thrust. His movements force you forward onto Bucky’s cock, making you gag lightly as Bucky holds your hair in a makeshift ponytail to control your movements.
With each thrust, and degrading yet praising comment from your boys, you feel drool drip out of your mouth onto the desk below, as your brain becomes hazy and light.
Yelping as you feel a harsh spank on your ass “Aww poor thing, going dumb on us? Hmm? Did you hear what I said, baby girl?” Steve mockingly pouts as he drapes his body over yours, hips still thrusting relentlessly “I said, do you want our cum? Hmm? Or are you too fucked to answer?”
You look up at Bucky with wide eyes as he pulls out of your mouth, and looks down at you expectantly, and even Steve slows down slightly “Please, Captain! Please, sergeant! Want your cum! Need it in me- on me!” pouting your lips as you look up at bucky and glancing over your shoulder at Steve, hoping they take pity on you.
“Good girl, We will give you it don’t worry. But we wanna see you cum first alright? Cum and I'll fill your mouth with my cum alright?” Bucky says as he rubs his precum on your lips, while Steve picks up his pace, hips thrusting into you and his hand reaching down to rub your clit with firm strokes.
It doesn't take long for the coil in your stomach to break and you moan loudly as you cum on Steve’s cock, eyes rolling back as you feel Steve’s hips stutter and still as he floods your pussy with his cum. “Good girl~ open up for your Sergeant now. Make him feel good doll” Steve mutters into your ear as he rides out his pleasure.
Dropping your mouth open for Bucky he thrusts into your mouth, letting you suck and slobber his cock. “Fuck- yes! Just like that doll- gonna make me cum!” With a loud groan, he cums in your mouth, slowly pulling out to see it dribble down your chin. He smugly smirks down at you as he tucks his cock back into his pants.
Steve rounds the desk, grabbing you by the throat to kiss you passionately, licking and sucking Bucky’s cum right out of your mouth. “Mm mm delicious~ my two favourite flavours”
Steve and Bucky help adjust your hair and dress, making you look presentable enough to walk out of the party. “Ready doll? When we get home, we will ruin you again… then we will lavish you with a hot bath and cuddles”
Smiling up at your boyfriends, you have never been happier - or hornier - than being around them.
Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed! <3
#bucky barnes x reader#steve rogers x reader#bucky barnes#stucky x reader#ceo!bucky#ceo!steve rogers#Ceo!Stucky#stucky x reader au#steve and bucky#stucky#steve x bucky
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