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notjustjavierpena · 9 months

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The Making of Ellie - Part I

A/N: This DILF!Joel piece has rotted my brain for 24 hours straight. I have had absolutely no break from thinking about this, and it’s never been easier to write something.

Summary: A look into how you and Joel’s relationship is going two years in. Joel’s POV on his never-ending love for you and his extreme baby fever.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader/You (No y/n)

Tags: +18 Smut (MDNI!), Joel’s POV, domesticated Joel Miller, Sarah makes an appearance!!!, tooth-rotting love and fluff, they’re crazy about each other, talk about birth control and ovulation, pussy eating (joel is a cunning linguist), fingering, bit of praise kink, dirty talk, bit of body worship, breeding kink, daddy kink (if you squint real hard), slow and sensual piv sex, intense orgasms, creampie, God they are in love

Word count: 4k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49183051

Song inspiration(!!!): Too Lost In You by Sugababes

Baby-Making

Joel comes home from work around the same time each day now — and it’s never after dinner time. He has made it his mission to make time for Sarah and you, cut down work since you moved in, because two working adults living in the house means that he can slow things down.

His health has improved, his mood too, his fatigue has practically gone and Sarah has had more time to just be a kid, started playing soccer again, and has even taken up coaching the little league team now that she’s 16. It’s good for him. You are good for him. For both of them.

He loves it. He takes the afternoon post-work ritual very seriously. Always texts if he should pick something up from the grocery store. Sometimes brings you flowers too, remembering that one time you’d said that you didn’t actually mind the cheap cellophane-wrapped bouquets.

It’s interesting to him how natural it feels for him to slip right into domestic bliss with you because he never thought that he would get there again after Sarah’s mother. On top of it, he never considered himself a gentle thing, but after you, it’s like you kiss the calluses of him away. He is nothing but gentle now, even in his roughness.

He throws the keys onto the side table by the front door after arriving home, shrugs off his jacket, and bends down to take off his boots. The sound makes you appear in the doorway. Joel notices that you’ve changed into gray sweatpants and a tank top with a strawberry on it since arriving home, basically removed anything from you that is professional and uncomfortable. Joel loves you like this because he is the only one who gets to enjoy you like this; relaxed and beautiful, hair in a messy bun on top of your head and fuzzy socks on your always-cold feet. He smiles at your radiance, then pads across the floor to kiss you hello.

There’s something in your eyes; a flicker of mischief as you grab his wrist to look at his watch. With a grin that nearly sets his heart into overdrive, you hold his hand up so he can look at the time too.

“It’s five minutes past,” you tut.

“Right, but I got ya something,” he says, reluctantly turning away from you to rummage through his jacket pocket. He fishes out a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup and you immediately snatch it from his hands, holding it close to your chest.

“Gremlin,” he teases and you stick out your tongue at him, “No needa hide it. ‘S too sweet for me anyway.”

“I shall save it for later then,” you walk to the kitchen and open the top cabinet that holds the mugs. You stand on your toes to reach into the very back, shirt riding up just a little, and stash the chocolate cup for later consumption.

“Hidden from Sa-rah, the candy thief,” you purposely pronounce her name wrong for dramatic purposes. Then you lower yourself onto the soles of your feet again, not bothering to pull your top down again. Joel watches the slight reveal of the dimples on your back.

“Right,” he chuckles.

Dear Lord, he loves you so much that it is ridiculous. In a way that makes the future look better than it ever has because it’s no longer filled with uncertainty. He knows what’s going to happen; he’ll build a house for the three of you, he’ll marry you in the Texan spring and he’ll give you as many babies as you want. He’d do it all today if he could.

“How was work?” You interrupt his thoughts by wrapping your soft hands around the nape of his neck, resting them there. You have rosy cheeks, feel warm against his skin, with love radiating from your fingertips.

“Good, told Tommy to handle the next few clients. Some hotshot guy comin’ into the office tomorrow,” Joel tells you, wrapping his arms around your waist and tugging you closer. He thinks that you don’t actually care about any of this, but there’s no indication of boredom on your face.

“He building a castle or something?” You ask.

“Somethin’ like that. Guy’s filthy rich but not from his own doin’, looking at blueprints at the end of the week. Should be interesting,” he continues, “Not that you care about that.”

“I do actually like hearing about your job,” you kiss him on the lips, peck them repeatedly until he cannot help himself and lifts you up to hug you tight. His arms rest along your back and his hands on your sides, fingers sprawled out underneath where your bra had been in the morning. You must’ve taken it off too. He loves you comfortable.

“You just love my hands,” he retorts, nose against your cheek, “Don’t deny it. I see right through ya.”

“It’s definitely not completely wrong,” you admit when he sets you down again.

You walk back to the kitchen, too tempted by the knowledge of what is in your kitchen cabinet. You only take half, proclaiming some bullshit that you have to watch out for your blood sugar since one can never know when it’s going to get you.

Joel rolls his eyes, following you, “I can give ya some sugar.”

“Joel Miller!” You pretend to look shocked. He tastes the peanut butter in your mouth, pushes you against the counter.

“Gross,” a teenage girl’s voice says.

“Oh right, Sarah’s home,” you announce sheepishly.

Joel pulls away to look at his daughter, “Hey kiddo. How was school?”

“You don’t care about that,” she smirks, “But if you must know, it was fine. No homework.”

“That don’t sound like Mrs. uhhh…”

“Green, it’s Ms. Green, Dad,” Sarah says dramatically as she moves across the floor to put on shoes. Her tone turns taunting, “Go ahead and make out with your girlfriend. I’m going to soccer practice.”

“Have fun, Sarah! We’ll have dinner ready,” you chime in.

“See ya, honey.”

The door closes behind her. The house grows quiet for a moment, but then the mischief is back in your eyes, “She’s seeing a boy.”

Joel nearly gets whiplash, not sure why his pulse spikes. He trusts his daughter to make good decisions and has taught her how since she was just a baby, “Nah, she ain’t. Just said she’s going to soccer practice.”

“Joel,” you sigh loudly, “It’s Tuesday.”

“So?”

“She has practice on Thursdays.”

“Christ,” he runs a hand over his stubble, tries to keep his composure, and ignores the urge to send her a text.

“But you know what?” You’re back in his personal space, tugging at his arms to make him hold you close again, “Such a fun coincidence. I’m also seeing a boy.”

Joel can feel the tension seeping out of him in an instant.

“Really? ‘Cause I’m seein’ a girl. She’s real pretty,” he wishes that he could show his past self how tooth-rottingly sweet he is being with you because he’d hate it. Though if past-Joel found out who he was treating like this, he’d instantly become a goner just like present-Joel is now.

“‘S her sweet tooth, unhinged behavior that I love the most though,” he continues.

You whine in his arms, lean your head back and it earns you a kiss on your neck, “Don’t be like that. Not when I’m ovulating. I’ll climb you like a tree.”

Oh.

It may seem innocent but Joel knows this is how you play dirty. It suddenly explains a lot. The sweatpants, the rosy cheeks, the way you glow, no bra, the cravings, why Joel wants you so bad.

Joel wouldn’t say that he is controlled by biology, and he hates the men trying to argue their way out of acting like cavemen. But looking at you right now in your stupid strawberry tank top, knowing that you’re horny and ready because your body wants to make him a daddy... Joel’s head swims.

Something shifts in the air. You can see it on him, but Joel assumes that you wait for him to act on whatever is bubbling up in his chest and below his belt.

And act, he does. He distracts you with deep, long kisses until he can snatch you up from the ground and carry you upstairs. You squeak out a giggle but don’t fight back, enjoying the freedom of being alone with him.

“That’s why you’re so fucking sexy,” Joel says after placing you on your shared bed. He is already shedding himself of his shirt, undressing hurriedly to get close to your skin with his own as quickly as possible.

You crawl back on the bed, untying the strings of your sweatpants and yanking them down your legs. You match his urgency, but still decide to tease him, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Shut your mouth,” he yanks the rest of your pants off as soon as he is naked in front of you. He throws them in the pile of his own clothes, “You know exactly what I’m talking about, dirty girl.”

You’re just about to take your top off before Joel stops you with a hand curled around the hem. He knows you’re sensitive at this point in your cycle, but it’s not why he wants to keep it on, “I love how cute you are in this shirt. Keep it on like this.”

He crawls properly onto the bed to demonstrate and tugs the shirt up over your tits so he can still see the stupid animated fruit on the front. Afterward, he tugs your panties down your legs and off your feet. He will swear to a higher power that he can even smell it on you, sweet like strawberries and honey between your legs and it makes him feel like an animal.

He has had baby fever for a while now, even told you his plans on giving you a whole bunch of babies and you’ve merely giggled at him, especially when he told you that twins don’t run in his family, but he is sure that nature will give him a whole litter with you.

“Want me to eat you out?” He asks to which you whimper and nod. He doesn’t give you what you want right then and there, instead climbs up to cradle your head in his hands and gives you a long, slow kiss. He sucks on your tongue, hums into your mouth, and gets you worked up and wet before he’ll treat you right.

“Tell me,” he says when he breaks the kiss, nosing along the bunched-up fabric of his new favorite top of yours. He sucks at the skin between your breasts, places open-mouthed kisses along the swell of the left whilst cupping the right.

“I want you to eat my pussy,” you moan softly, running a hand over his hair as he licks a nipple. You slide your fingers into it, but you don’t tug at it unless you feel like you need to hold onto it for dear life.

“God, you’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he growls before going further down your body, his spit leaving a shine where his mouth has been, “Can’t believe I own these tits.”

He goes further down, lets out a satisfied noise when he can see between your legs, “—and this pussy.”

“Yes, it’s yours, fuck, baby,” you sound delirious already, happy and eager to be touched, on the verge of a giggle even, “Joel, need your mou—“

You gasp loudly into the quiet bedroom. Joel has covered you with his mouth, eyes almost rolling back into his skull at the taste of your ripe cunt. He is too lost in you, a complete idiot with how head over heels he is for you, and he shows it by devouring you like he is starved.

“Baby!” You cry out, sensitive, “Fuuuck— just like that!”

He watches your thighs twitch in his peripheral, holds you down by placing a strong hand just below your belly button, and uses his thumb on said hand to pull the hood of your clit back. He sucks the little now-hard nub into his mouth, sending you into a state where he is unsure if you can even sense the sheets underneath you. If you had superpowers, he surely would’ve made you lift off the bed as if you were possessed.

He bobs his head a little, probably looking obscene as he hums against your clit and wiggles his head too. He looks up at you through his lashes, sees the red flush on your chest, and knows that you are close. Christ, he hasn’t been this into someone before.

“I’m gonna— you’re gonna make me—“ you say like always, announcing your departure from reality. He keeps going, feeling your stomach jump in a stuttering manner underneath his palm with how uneven your breathing has become.

“Fuck, I’m coming!” You sob with a yank of Joel’s hair and suddenly your thighs are shaking violently without your control. Joel can feel you coming before you announce it, your cunt clenching rapidly against his lips and your clit pulsing in his mouth as he sucks your folds into his mouth. You taste so good as a gush on slick smears his lips and chin even more. He laps it up.

You push him away when he gets too much, and he turns his head to kiss your inner thigh. You finally release the giggle that you’ve been suppressing, drunk on dopamine and Joel falls in love with you a bit more.

“You’re fucking incredible,” you say. The hand in his hair slides down so you can affectionately run your knuckles over his cheek. He responds by gently rubbing your thighs, soothing you on top of putting such strain on your heart and your breath. You hum, “I love you so much.”

Without warning, he smacks your thigh and you sit up straight. He grins, “Love ya too, sweetheart. Think you can give me one more before I fuck ya?”

“Jesus, what’s gotten into you?” You ask genuinely as you lower onto your back again.

“Wanna fuck a baby into you,” he replies, voice an octave lower than normal. He senses your shiver without having to look at your face, “Please. Wanna get her red and puffy so it fucking sticks.”

You let out an involuntary moan at the idea. You want this as much as him, he hopes, and he slides two fingers into your neglected pussy whilst he waits for the green light to fill you up. He crooks them upwards, fingers the spongy spot that only seems to have been discovered by him, “Lemme in. Lemme come in you.”

You’ve been off the pill for a while with the reasoning that it wasn’t doing any good for your body. Joel had stocked up on condoms since then, actually filled the top drawer of his nightstand to the brim because honey, we’re young and healthy, red-blooded Americans. But it had planted the idea in his mind that he could potentially knock you up, and suddenly the stash of condoms was being used rapidly.

“Okay,” you say with a half-moan, “Fuck, okay.”

Joel immediately sits up on his knees, still fucking you open on his hand. You squirm underneath his touch, trying to get a hold of your breathing this time, holding eye contact with him as he drags another orgasm from you.

It is much less hurried and a lot more intense, muscles clamping down on his digits rhythmically as you bite your lip and close your eyes with a soft gasp. He can’t decide if he finds this more sexy.

“Did you mean it?” He asks as he trails kisses up your belly. He kneels between your legs and places an elbow on either side of your chest so he can hold both your breasts in his hands. He squeezes them together, sucks on a nipple until you sigh deeply, and then watches them bounce back into place.

“Yes,” you say and your voice doesn’t sound unsure at all, “Fuck yes, I want your babies. Wanted them since I saw you. Want you to make me a mommy.”

“The prettiest momma out there,” he says, euphoria evident on his face. He slides his arms underneath you, rests his head on your breasts, and hugs you close to his chest, “Wanna fuck ya.”

“Please,” you say softly, spreading your legs open for him but he has other plans. He releases you from his arms to sit up again, spreading his knees a little. His hands wrap around your ankles to lift your legs up onto his shoulders, your feet behind his ears. He leans over you afterward and bends your flexible legs backward until the front of his thighs are against the back of yours. He can go deep like this, fill you up with his come how he has wanted to for months.

He takes hold of his cock, eases it inside of your spent and warm cunt inch by inch. You feel incredible around his dick without a piece of rubber separating the two of you. He can feel the head of his dick nudge at your cervix, moaning quietly as he is engulfed by your wet, pulsating heat.

“How are you still so fucking tight?” He groans, resting his forehead against your calf as he gives you a moment to adjust to the stretch. He knows he is big, gets a thrill out of how well you take him each time as if you were made specifically for him. There had been one time where he’d called you a trooper, and you had laughed so hard with his dick inside you that it had made him come.

“You feel so big like this,” you say as you look down between the two of you, already sounding out of breath. Joel kisses your calf repeatedly and softly, trying to soothe your overwhelmed body.

“Goddamn. You’re so sexy,” he praises, placing both hands on the sides of your head so he is hovering above you. He finds your hazy eyes, “Look at you.”

He gives an experimental roll of his hips that makes you whimper, both hands reaching for the backs of his knees. You hold onto him, staring up into his eyes with that siren-like look in them, and then you moan softly.

Joel starts fucking you desperately at that. He doesn’t hurry though, keeps his hips’ movements slow and sensual to have you moaning and gasping ever so slightly at the intensity. He knows he could just give in and fuck you rough and fast, but the heavy-lidded gaze that you are giving him with your mouth hanging open is too good to spoil.

“Joel,” you cry but it’s barely audible compared to what he sometimes drags from you. He can feel your nails dig into the flexing muscles of his thighs, creating half-moon shapes in the flesh. He switches to a rocking motion, and it sends your eyes rolling into the back of your head. You moan with your bottom lip between your teeth, “Mhm—“

“I know, baby, let it out,” he can see your pulse jumping wildly underneath the sensitive skin of your neck, feeling the heat of his orgasm pool at the base of his spine. He needs to be closer to you.

“Lift your legs down to the sides,” he tells you gently, thrusts coming to a halt and him realizing that you’ve heard absolutely nothing. He repeats himself, waits for you to follow his instructions, and then hooks his arms underneath your knees.

Joel gets closer to you by resting his weight on his elbows, his own body on top of your slightly contorted one. You reach for him, grabby hands in the air until he allows himself to be pulled in for a kiss. You cradle his face, make him feel safe in your arms.

“I love you, baby,” he breathes deeply. The new position gives him an opportunity to reach deeper inside of you, and it’s accompanied by each upward snap of his pelvis causing his cockhead to push into your g-spot. It makes it difficult for you to continue kissing him, eventually simply breathing into his mouth as he has you speared on his dick. Never once do you let go of his face, thumbs on his cheekbones, and tip of your nose against his.

“I love you,” you whisper, unable to catch your breath. Joel can feel your walls flutter around his dick, threatening to pull his own climax from him too soon. You pant, eyes burning, “You— baby, shit… you’re gonna make me come.”

“Yeah?” He speeds up a little, carding a hand through your hair and gently tugging on the bun. He coaxes you, “Gonna milk my cock into you? Make me a daddy?”

“Yeah,” you whimper wantonly, tightening your legs into his sides as you try moving with him, “Yeah, baby. Gonna make you a daddy! Fuckfuckfuck. Ah— I’m, I—“

Joel doesn’t know if he’s ever made you come like this; without all the muscle and rough touches, without the fast-paced snaps of his hips and the foul taunting from his mouth of how dirty you are. But come you do, with your brows furrowed, gaze on his and a controlled breathing that suddenly becomes erratic and uneven after you let out a high-pitched cry.

“That’s it,” he admires you, “So good f’me.”

You clamp down on his cock so hard that he sees stars, fucks you through each convulsion of your cunt. His mouth drips with filth as he works himself toward his own pleasure, “You make me so fucking horny, baby. Wanna knock— ngh, wanna knock this pretty pussy up all the time. Give ya a whole fuckin’ litter.”

He tips over the edge not long after, heart pounding in his chest and the sensation in his balls tightening. He releases with a groan, settles deep inside of you to make sure he doesn’t waste a single drop. His orgasm pulses through his cock, swirls in his belly, and warms the small of his back.

“Fuuuck,” he pants. He carefully removes his arms from underneath your legs before he collapses, allowing you to stretch out underneath him. You look completely fucked out, gasping feebly as he teasingly gives you another thrust before pulling out.

You wrap your arms around him as he falls onto you, nose against the shell of his ear. He can barely lift his head when you speak, humming into your neck that vibrates as you talk, “You think other people have sex this good?”

“Nah, ‘s why everyone is so fuckin’ miserable, why they gotta build mansions with their parents’ money,” he murmurs.

“Stop thinking about the hotshot client in bed,” you tease as you cradle his head in your arms, lifting your legs to wrap them around his waist. It seems you cannot get close enough, “You should only think about sticky, sweaty me.”

Joel finds that he doesn’t care about sticky, sweaty skin and you feeling like a furnace after three orgasms. He lays with you like this for a while, sure that you’ve drifted off to sleep at one point, until you push at his shoulder, voice back to your normal pitch as the post-orgasmic bliss has faded slowly, “Gotta pee.”

“Sure,” he rolls off of you. The sight of your waddle to the bathroom makes him smile, eyes following the way the fleshiest part of your ass and thighs jiggle with each step.

When you’ve closed the door behind you, Joel finds the strength to rid the bed of the dirty sheets and start dressing again. He’ll have a shower before bed, he decides, ignoring the sensitivity of sliding on boxers and jeans again.

Hurriedly, he bounces down the stairs to the kitchen. He gets the rest of your peanut butter cup, places it on the nightstand with your clothes right beside it.

He checks the time. There’s no point in trying to cook something up for dinner if Sarah is home from ‘practice’ soon, so he goes down into the kitchen to order pizza, heart thrumming in his chest as he hears you shout a thank you from upstairs at the discovery of the other half of your favorite snack. He is happy. So so happy.

Especially as he writes ‘pregnancy test’ into his Notes app shopping list.

@elissaaa @queerponcho @casa-boiardi @gracieispunk @hiddenbabynyc @hopelessromantic727 @livingdeadmaria @its-nebuleuse @milly-louise @cool-iguana @pawnshopbluess222 @joeldjarin @queenbrownie18 @scarletsloveletter @ladyburberry @swiftsgirlfriend @walkintotheriveranddisappear @sunnywithachanceofjavi @strang3lov3 @hellishjoel @toxicanonymity

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unholyhelbig · 5 months

Note

request: single mom reader decides to loan shark from natasha’s mob. when reader can’t pay back the loan, natasha’s men capture and beat her. natasha sees reader among the criminals and drug dealers who also haven’t payed back their loans, and excuses her, forgiving her debt.

Title: The Oversight

Ship: Female!Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Wordcount: 2799

Warnings: Drug use, kidnapping, guns, choking, threats, blood, horrible grammar.

[a/n: Yeah, I kind of feel like this needs a part two. Let me know what you guys think and if you're interested]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

Each breath you drew in spurred a sharp stitch in your side. They came in rapid succession, even as you struggled to recall the fuzzy details that usually calmed you down. Your first street name. What you called your first pet. The name of your second-grade teacher. They all swirled foggily, unable to recall.

Your mouth tasted metallic cotton and your heartbeat was pulsing through your entire body. Counting the thrums hadn’t helped either, you gave up as you rolled your neck in a snow circle. The dried blood that hardened against the side of your face, your cheek, and down the expanse of your collarbone crackled at the soft movement.

The room that housed you was pitch black. It was hard to tell when you opened your eyes, tears welling up and dripping down your face onto your uniform. Your arms were bound behind your back, shoulders screaming in protest and fingers going numb from the cold. Your small noises echoed. Wherever you were was impossibly vast.

The next breath that escaped you was deeper than the rest. Not necessarily calm, but enough for you to take stock of the situation; there were flashes of you leaving the diner where you worked nothing short of twelves. It had just rained, and the air was humid. You dropped your keys and bent down to pick them up.

Before you could insert them into the lock, something hard had come down on your temple. There was a rush of heat sloshing down your face and a moment later, as you looked up at the sky, the steel tip of a boot took the rest of your consciousness.

That didn’t bother you. You were fine, a little banged up, but fine. Your daughter was left with the sitter. It could have been hours, maybe even a day. Your stomach clenched in hunger, and you drifted in and out of lucidity. They’d left you un-gagged but you didn’t have it in you to scream. You had a sinking feeling that no one would hear you anyway.

You’d flinched when the first 500-volt lamp let out a sharp hiss before flipping on. You shrunk into yourself, blinking away the sudden burst of white light that filled the room. It was directed towards you, and the rest of the space was still a frustratingly thick darkness. You couldn’t see who had turned them on, but they could see you.

The boots that walked across the floor were loud. They echoed like your earlier sobs. A metal chair was being dragged, and the sound was piercing. It did nothing to aide your aching head. You were thankful to see something other than pitch black, however big the danger.

You recognized the man who was in front of you. His outline flickered solidly. He looked rougher than you did; dirty-blonde hair, and stubble. There was a bandage across the center of his nose, on his fingertips, as if he’d fisted the razor while shaving. His purple T-shirt was covered by a dusty-brown leather jacket. His stare was hard, emotionless.

“You’re awfully quiet for a hostage.” He said, straddling the chair he had dragged over. His chest rested against the metal backing. “You can scream if you want. Wear yourself down. It’ll make this a lot easier.”

“What is this?” You asked instead of taking him up on his offer.

He was familiar to you. Clint. He came into the diner every Wednesday and Friday night like clockwork. He’d order a roast beef on rye with Swiss cheese and extra dressing on the side. He’d suck down two beers with his meal and tipped generously.

Sometimes he was with the man they called ‘The Winter Soldier’. You’d always found the name laughable, but the rumors about him were enough for you to hold your tongue. He never ate but would sometimes order a diet coke and sip it while Clint spoke through large bites of food.

Law enforcement wouldn’t’ touch Bucky Barnes, and your boss would typically comp whatever he ordered. A few months ago, you had shared your first words with him behind the diner. The air stunk of rotted food and hardly counted as fresh air. However, it was a few degrees cooler than the kitchen.

He had offered you a cigarette, one already perched between his lips, a zippo lighter at the ready in his other hand. You declined with the shake of your head, and a quiet ‘no thank you’. There was an uncomfortable silence, but it was better than the damp warmth of the kitchen. A sweet, burning scent filled your nose when he lit his cigarette and let the smoke curl around the two of you like a slack rope.

“You work hard in there.” Bucky said, taking a long inhale. He held it within his lungs, voice pinched. “Harder than anyone else I’ve seen in a while.”

You weren’t about to tell him about your daughter, not with his reputation, or the small smattering of pink scars across his chiseled features. So, you nodded instead. The number of tips you got in the broken down, greasy diner was the difference between two meals and one. So, you smiled sweetly and laid on the southern accent even though you’d only spent a short stint in Georgia when you were eighteen. It was easy to perfect.

“I bet you could name my order right now.”

“You don’t order.”

“I don’t trust the food.” He shrugged listlessly, a lazy smile against his lips. You couldn’t help but smile back.

“That’s a good call.”

He laughed at your honesty, and it was a nice sound. He disarmed you and that was worrying. Bucky let the cigarette sizzle out in a puddle at his feet. He used the tip of his steel-toed boot to grind the paper into damp ash.

“You wouldn’t’ have to work so hard if you had some extra cash, would you?”

The question caught you off guard and you couldn’t stifle the vicious glare that you gave him. Your break was almost over, and you could have, should have, walked back into the restaurant to finish the rest of your shift. Bucky lifted his hands up as a peace offering.

“Look, lady, I didn’t mean to offend you or anything. All I’m saying is, you’re not blind to what happens in there, the type of people that frequent this place. You’ve always turned a blind eye and that’s something my boss appreciates. Something she trusts.”

“And who exactly is your boss?”

He tsked “I can’t tell you that, sweetheart. But she wants to make you an offer, she wants to offer you a loan. You’re what? Three months behind on rent? She’ll front that for you and the following two.”

You took a deep breath of stale air. It was a tempting offer, even if it came in the form of a seedy enforcer in an even seedier alleyway. You were three days from getting evicted. Three days from ending up on the streets in a neighborhood that didn’t’ have a single safe one.

“What’s the catch?” You asked.

“Catch? There’s no catch. This is a friendly loan. All you’ve gotta do is pay it back when you’re on your feet again.”

It was an oversight, not asking for a concrete timeline. You hadn’t paid Bucky’s boss back yet, and over the next few months, there were stifled threats, and both Bucky and Clint watched you carefully at the job that you still worked like nothing had changed. The feeling of being indebted lingered, but this time, it was to an unknown entity instead of a landlord that was ultimately harmless.

Everything needed to be paid back in full. These were thousands you didn’t have. And now, two weeks after the initial threat, you were strapped to a metal chair with blood dripping down the sound of your face, in despite need of a drink of water.

Clint was harmless compared to The Winter Soldier, but his muscles still flexed under his shirt as he pulled his jacket off and let it fall to the dusty floor illuminated in blue light. “I would prefer not to get that dirty. It’s genuine leather, you know?”

You glowered at him as he stood and took a few more steps towards you. He looked relatively harmless each time you’d seen him in the diner. Sometimes he had a girl with him, a slight thing that was just as littered in scars as he was. She would order a plate of bacon that was cooked to a crisp and split it with a golden retriever that laid at their feet.

When his wrapped knuckles made contact with your cheek, your head clocked in the opposite direction. There was a sharp pain in your jaw, a ringing in your ear. He had slammed into the same side of your face as earlier, and you lost vision for a second.

Blood filled your mouth, and you spit the mix of saliva, bile, and blood onto the floor. There was a drain in the center and that worried you more than anything else. Your breathing came fast and hard and you glared at him, teeth stained pink.

“Is that all?” You asked him.

It was stupid, you knew it was stupid. But it bothered you more than anything that you had gotten yourself wrapped up in this. Your father was no stranger to the mob, and you should have seen it from a mile away. The fear he lived with. Until the day he died, he would look over his shoulder and you refused to do the same.

Clint grabbed your face, squeezing hard enough to bring tears to your eyes. “You’re a tough chick, huh? I think we both know why you’re here. All you have to do is get the money and all of this vanishes.”

“I don’t have the money.” Your words were garbled between his fingers. “You’re sure as fuck not going to get it if you kill me.”

“Kill you?” Clint unhanded you and let out a laugh. “Kill you, she says. No, we’re not going to kill you, she would never get her money that way… your daughter on the other hand.”

You pulled against the ropes, and they dug painfully into you. The chair was liable to break, but it had been bolted to the floor. It was much stronger than the one he’d dragged over. The mix of anger and fear that had rushed over you pulled away any thought of lingering aches and pains. Be damned to the head trauma.

Your teeth were gritted, voice a low hiss “Leave her the fuck out of this.”

“Did I strike a nerve?”

“I swear to you, I will get your money, I just need time. I’m not… You can keep me under surveillance as collateral, take my car, my apartment- just leave her out of this.”

Clint gripped your throat with his calloused hand, your ability to breathe became more difficult, half-moon nails digging into your flesh. It stung fiercely, and you let out a gurgle in response. “Or she could be our collateral. I think she’d make a great enforcer, with the proper education, that is.”

Is that what happened to the girl that ate lunch with Clint at the diner? She didn’t looked like she was there against her will, but there was an immense sadness to her eyes. Clint hadn’t released you yet and your vison was growing fuzzy at the edges.

“Let her go,”

Your chest was burning at this point and when he pulled his hand back you tried desperately to regain your sense of lucidity. You coughed, nearly vomiting as he took a long stride backwards, seemingly put into his place with a simple sentence.

Over the ringing of your ears, you heard the sharp click of heels. They were confident, and your chin dropped to your chest as you panted in succession, spit dripping in strings from your lips. You didn’t have the strength to look up, your head was pounding.

“I think that’s enough,” Her voice was smooth, just the smallest bit of an accent in her words. You couldn’t place it, but you couldn’t tell which way was up at this point. “You’re dismissed.”

“Oh, come on Natasha, I was just having a little fun.”

“Dismissed, Clint.”

There was a labored sigh and the sound of his footsteps retreating. It brought little relief to you, however. You felt as if you had traded one evil for another. Eventually, you lifted your head to stare at the ceiling. The stranger hadn’t said anything, and the pitch dark above was more desirable to the unknown.

You heard her sit down and felt her eyes watching you. The swimming in your head started to dissipate so you clocked her with a stare. The woman in front of you was angelic, in such a way that you figured Clint’s choking stunt had actually done you in.

Her stare was an unripe green rimmed in gold, her cheekbones carved from marble. There was a beautiful softness to her expression, and her deep red hair flowed over her shoulders in a waterfall of color. She was studying you, not phased by the cold of the room.

The woman wore a black t-shirt, deep slashes of ink peaking from the dip of the V-neck. You didn’t’ let your eyes linger long. It was a marking that you’d seen on Clints bicep and on Buckey’s hand. You hadn’t gotten a chance to clock it on the girl that was kept in their company.

“Is this the part where you come in with your good cop schtick?” You mumbled.

“Darling, Clint is the good cop.”

“Nice, I like it.” You rolled your shoulders back, fighting the stiffness “Bad cop and worse cop is much more effective.”

“You’ve got quite the mouth on you for someone in your position. Thousands of dollars in debt and seemingly no way to pay back my money. It’s not a good spot to be in, Y/n.”

Natasha stood from the chair, her muscles straining at the action. In a fluid motion, she pulled a black standard issue handgun from the space between her skin and her jeans. She pumped the shaft, the sound echoed more than your quickened breathing.

She used the tip to push your chin up, forcing you to look into her unblinking eyes. You were a dead man, you knew that from her cold stare. You couldn’t look away, even if the option was given.

“Baby, I’ve been in this business for a long time.” Her breath was hot on your collarbone, a mix of mint and tobacco. “I know exactly the type that you are. I cater to your kind. More often than not, my clientele need a little bit of encouragement.”

The tip of her gun traced your jaw, her finger loosely on the trigger. It was cold against your collarbone, down the center of your breasts. She held it there, jaw set in stone.

“We’ll keep you here for a few days. Once you dry out a little, I’m sure you’ll suddenly come into the cash.”

“Dry out? You think I’m on drugs?”

The tip pushed hard enough into your sternum to make you let out a grunt of pain. “You hide it quite well, pet. I’m sure it won’t be as simple when you start to feel those withdraw symptoms. Money flows simple in this town when those cravings kick in.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at her, despite the weapon that she was packing. A frown creased between her eyebrows, but she held it in place. “The hardest thing I’ve ever hit is a blunt in a high school rotation. That was your brilliant plan? Dry me out and then what? Search my backyard for jars filled with money. I don’t have it. I make 2.50 an hour at a diner.”

Natasha scrutinized you, eyes hard. She righted herself and pulled the gun away from your center before flipping on the safety and shoving it back into her jeans. She started to pace the length of the light.

“Bucky, he offered me a loan and I took it so I could pay the rent on an apartment for me and my daughter.” You said, voice quiet “I work thirteen hour shifts six days a week, and it’s still not enough. I’m not… I don’t know who you cater to, but I have a feeling it’s not someone like me.”

“No.” she crossed her arms over her chest, “It seems as if you’re an oversight.”

“Great,” you flexed your numbing fingers, “An oversight you’ll let go?”

Natasha shook her head, clenching and unclenching her jaw. “No, I’m afraid not.”

#Natasha Romanoff #Natasha Romanoff x y/n #Natasha Romanoff x you #Natasha Romanoff x reader #Mafia Boss Natasha Romanoff #Marvel #Marvel Fanfiction #Clint Barton #Kate Bishop #Bucky Barnes #Mafia au #request

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sokkigarden · 9 months

Text

dancing with our hands tied (part iii)

jamie tartt x female reader // nsfw 18+ // enemies to lovers // fwb

masterlist // read on ao3

summary: you give jamie head... and a headache.

word count: 3.6k

JAMIE POV LETS GO !! this took forever but IT'S HERE. its full of steam and angst i hope yall like it >:)

༻✧✧✧༺

“Well, I must be dreaming.”

You rolled your eyes as Jamie watched you walk through his front door. These words were nothing new. After leaving his house that first night, adamantly refusing to return, you showed up just a few days later. And Jamie couldn’t complain, though he wasn’t above teasing you a little bit. Your words contradicted your actions more and more as the weeks passed.

Somehow this had become something of a routine. He would cross paths with you at work, say something to get your blood boiling, and wait for you to show up at his front door later that night. Or sometimes, you wouldn’t even make it into the evening, the tension between you breaking midday. Jamie didn’t have to wonder if anyone had ever shagged in the boot room anymore, because he had. His back pressed against the uncomfortable shelves, holding you against him like his anchor, sucking a mark into your neck; you had come undone on his dick only a few moments before Will walked in. You had fumbled an excuse for being in the room with Jamie but Will had seemed highly suspicious as you fled.

That wasn’t the only place either. Jamie had only snickered a little bit after the time you realized you would have to replace the table in the treatment room after you both got a bit too caught up and broke it.

It was just sex. You reminded him constantly that this was just two coworkers that mildly hated each other having sex. Mutual goals and all that. Jamie went along with it. It wasn’t his first time having a no-strings relationship, but if you needed to remind yourself that it was casual, he wasn’t going to stop you.

So it was a bit strange, to see you show up in the middle of the afternoon on a half day off with a question. Unexpected but not unwelcome.

“Can I give you a blowjob?” you asked. “I want to make sure I’m okay at it before my date.”

Jamie nearly stopped breathing at your question, shutting the door behind you, and clicking the lock into place.

“I must really be dreaming.”

You grabbed his hand and walked toward his TV room, promptly shoving him onto the couch. He started to unzip his jeans, but you swatted his hand away, taking over the task yourself. Jamie could barely process what was happening. One moment you were at his doorstep and the next you’re removing his pants like a woman starved.

“If you’re in such a hurry, you coulda asked me at the dog track. We just saw each other,” he said as he lifted his hips to help remove his pants.

Jamie wasn’t used to talking a lot during flings and hookups. Sure, there was some flirting, but it seemed like a big part of your relationship was the banter that fueled the sex. He found himself thinking it made the sex even better. He hadn’t had this much fun with anyone in a while.

Once his jeans were out of the way, you slowly ran your hands back and forth across his thighs, the heat of your fingertips leaving sparks in their wake. The gentle motion went straight to his dick.

“Not after we broke the massage table.” You crouched down between his legs, but he could still see the flush of embarrassment upon your cheeks. “I can’t believe I had to ask Higgins to order another one. I feel like he knew.”

Jamie tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, swallowing his laugh at your predicament. “He couldn’t have.”

You rolled your eyes, clearly not believing him.

“Still, I’m paranoid. No more fucking at work.”

His face morphed into an exaggerated pout, but inside, he was focused on the idea of continuing whatever this was, even if they couldn’t fool around at work. He was nowhere near bored yet, and in the back of his mind, he wished to continue this indefinitely. He’d take whatever you would give him for as long as you did.

Jamie settled into the couch cushions, and watched intently as you bunched your hair into a ponytail. The image was mouth watering but suddenly, something occurred to him.

“Wait, did you say you have a date?” he asked.

“Yeah, Zach finally asked me out.”

Any semblance of a boner was gone as the sentence washed over him like ice water. He didn’t like the pang of alarm that settled in his chest.

“Finally?”

You nodded. “I’ve been dropping hints for like, weeks. He finally asked me to get drinks with him since we had the evening off.”

“Even though you’ve been fuckin’ me?”

Jamie didn’t mean to start interrogating you, but he had a million questions running through his head. He was taken aback, with no time to even process why he was so taken back.

You paused for a moment from palming him through his briefs and looked up at him.

“Yeah, but we’re just having some fun. This isn’t that serious… right?” you asked.

Suddenly it all clicked into place for Jamie. He was never the one to label this as casual. That was you. Only now he was starting to realize maybe he did want it to be serious. You guys had fun in bed, and he found himself looking forward to the parts in his day where you showed up, even outside of the sex. Even if all that occurred was some playful banter and teasing comments.

With a shock of clarity, Jamie realized you were on a different wavelength than he was, and he hadn’t even known it himself. He wanted more than hidden conversations and meaningless sex. He wanted more than just a quick fuck after work with an even quicker goodbye. He wanted you to stay the night and be there in the morning. He wanted to quit sneaking around and he wanted the Richmond facility to know you weren’t on the market.

Especially Zach.

This newfound discovery was lost to him as you slid your hand into his underwear and wrapped your fingers around him. Despite the many times you had fucked, you had yet to give him head. He found himself unable to think about anything else as you stroked him and started pulling down his briefs.

You seemed a bit hesitant as you gave his dick an experimental lick. Every little touch was sending electricity through his veins. He squirmed at the sensation, and his reaction seemed to bolster your confidence.

When you finally took him in your mouth, he whined, his hands digging into the couch cushions. Every inch of his skin felt like he was on fire. His mind was a mess of physical sensations and newly discovered emotions.

As you sucked his dick deeper into your throat, his hips involuntarily thrust upwards.

“Feels good,” he mumbled, “Good girl.”

He felt the vibration of the moan in your throat at his words, which just made him want to say even more. You had drool running down the side of your face, but you didn't let up.

Despite the ponytail you had put your hair into earlier, a few strands were hanging down around your face. As you looked up at him through your eyelashes, Jamie nearly came at the sight. He knew the image would be burned into his mind forever.

He tangled his fingers into your hair, tugging a bit to bring you closer to him. You took as much of him as you could into your mouth and hollowed out your cheeks, using your hand to stroke the base of his dick.

“Fuck,” he panted, “Fuckin’ hell.”

Every sensation was building, and despite not wanting this to end, he came in your mouth all too soon.

When he did, his eyes rolled to the back of his head and he let out a groan with your name on his lips. You kept sucking as he came down from his high, and Jamie felt like his soul was about to leave his body from the overstimulation.

His thighs were still twitching slightly as you pulled away. You lingered though, kissing the inside of his thighs as you ran your hands across his legs. The contact was almost too much for him.

He felt his heart skip a beat as you two made eye contact. You squeezed his hips gently, your eyes looking for approval. His mouth hung open as he looked at you.

“So um,” you bit your lip shyly, like you hadn’t just sucked him into oblivion. “Was that good?”

Good was a severe understatement, but Jamie was finding words hard to come by, so he just nodded, hoping his lack of words was proof enough. You let out a nervous laugh, fixing your hair and wiping the spit from your mouth with the back of your hand. Jamie wondered if he had ever seen anything so erotic in his life. His mind was blank aside from thoughts of you.

You stood up, breaking his trance, and reminding him of why you were here in the first place. To make sure you were good at giving head so you could go off with some other guy.

Alarm bells went off in his head. He didn’t want to lose you to someone else. He wanted you to stay, just like he had wanted the very first night, so you could wake up tangled in sheets next to him. So he could make you breakfast and coffee and stay in bed with you all day.

The picture was so clear in his mind. He wanted nothing more than that image to be true.

Before you could retreat farther away from him, he reached for your hand.

“Wait wait, let me return the favor,” he said, giving you his best puppy dog eyes. He’d never so badly wanted to beg on his knees for something. “I’ll go down on you, too.

You rolled your eyes with a smile.

“I don’t need any help with that,” you said with a chuckle.

Ignoring your brush off, he pulled you up onto the couch and into his lap. He gently brushed your hair off your shoulder, watching the way you shivered at his light touch. He planted a trail of feathery kisses to the crook between your shoulder and collarbone, before moving on to your neck.

He let his hand roam under the hem of your shirt, drifting his fingertips across your lower back. You let out a sigh as he settled you onto his thigh, feeling a wet patch in your panties as you moved against him.

“I… I really have to go,” you mumbled, but your breathing was off-kilter and Jamie knew his seduction tactics were solid. “I need time to get ready before my date. I don’t wanna be late.”

The word ‘date’ was sending Jamie into a turmoil. He squeezed your ass as you rubbed yourself along his thigh. Your eyes were closed as you lost yourself in the movement.

“Where’s he taking you?” he whispered along the shell of your ear.

You hummed with pleasure, gripping his shoulders. You were putty in his hands.

“We’re meeting for drinks. At Bones and Honey,” you replied. “I’ve never been before— I’m excited.”

Jealousy burned through Jamie. He should be the one taking you there.

He pulled away ever so slightly. He couldn’t help himself from asking the next question.

“Are you planning to do this? With him?”

He immediately hated himself for asking when you pulled back to look at him with narrowed eyes.

“That’s kinda a personal question,” you said.

He gave you a flat look.

“You just sucked my dick.”

You let out a shaky sigh of agreement, “Okay, yeah, maybe. I haven’t done this in a while. Maybe.”

As Jamie processed this new development, he realized you were likely feeling insecure. He felt a guilt-ridden gratification that you came to him seeking comfort and a familiar face. He wanted to be there for you.

His chest ached at the fact that this might all be over soon. Your words turned over and over in his head, the various times you told him this wasn’t anything serious.

Jamie hadn’t felt this defeated in a while. He ran his hands along the length of your torso. If this was the last time, he would’ve taken things slower, memorizes the lines and shapes of your body. He pressed on final kiss to your jaw before finally retreating.

“Well, at least let me walk you out,” he said.

You gave him a funny look, and Jamie wanted to hide in a dark room and never come out. Was a nice gesture like that so unlike him?

You grabbed his jeans from where they had been discarded on the floor and handed them to him. Your hands brushed, and you turned around quickly, looking away as he got dressed.

Jamie walked you to the door, and then out to your car, and he wondered if he was being too clingy. You thanked him as you unlocked your car. But before you got in, you hesitated.

“And um,” you bit your lip, “You’re sure I was alright? You know, at sucking dick?”

Jamie breathed a laugh, wondering how you didn’t understand that you had just made him see through space and time. And that had nothing to do with the feelings bubbling up inside him. You were that good at head.

“I saw God, love. It was way better than good, it was heavenly,” he said, sending you a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry about it. Ten out of ten, would nut again.”

You let out a laugh at his words, and your smile left him awestruck.

“Heavenly, huh?” you shook your head at his silliness. “Thanks, Jamie.”

“I should be thanking you.”

You laughed again as you got into your car and started the engine. Jamie couldn’t do anything but watch as you left him behind.

༻✧✧✧༺

It was only after you left that his brain kicked into overdrive and started overthinking everything. Any time that happened, Jamie always ended up doing something stupid.

This time, he’d brought Sam and Dani along.

It wasn’t out of the ordinary for Jamie to head out for a night at Bones and Honey. It was a trendy place, and many of the Richmond players frequented the establishment.

But it wasn’t everyday that Jamie went to Bones and Honey with the sole purpose of seeing you.

He knew it was wrong. He knew he was being stupid and probably creepy. But before he knew it, he was texting his mates and riding the elevator up to the bar. He ordered himself a beer and tried to focus on the conversation Sam and Dani were having, adding some nods and noises of agreement as his eyes scanned the area.

“Hey,” Sam said. “Isn’t that y/n and Zach from the physio team?”

Jamie spun around to see you and Zach at the other end of the bar. His heart stopped as he saw you in a cute dress with your hair done up. You were laughing at something Zach said as you sipped your drink, and suddenly Jamie felt like an asshole for showing up like this. He was an asshole, plain and simple. Maybe he could get away without you realizing he was here.

“No way, crazy running into you guys!”

Jamie was brought back to the real world upon hearing Zach’s words, who was now walking up to the three football players with you trailing behind him.

You did not look happy to see them.

Jamie. You did not look happy to see Jamie.

“Hi Sam, hi Dani,” you greeted with a forced smile on your face. “Jamie.”

Your smile was bright but your eyes held a hidden fury as you looked at him. No one seemed to notice except him, or maybe they did notice and just wrote it off as part of the weird feud between the two of you.

If only they knew.

Jamie could barely process what was being said around him. He couldn’t stop staring at you, despite knowing how pissed you were.

“Maybe we should all sit together, get some food!” Sam exclaimed, but was quickly shut down by your forceful, “No!”

You softened the word with a smile, but to Jamie it looked a bit like a grimace. You seemed uncomfortable and Jamie felt guilt eat away at his conscience. Who cares if you sucked him off just a few hours ago? It wasn’t any business who you wanted to date or not.

But that didn’t stop the burn of jealousy that settled into his stomach.

Zach explained that the two of you were getting drinks since work was only a half day today, and Jamie couldn’t help but notice that he seemed to make the event seem a lot more casual than you did. Jamie’s mind was torn— half hoping this wasn’t an actual date for his sake, but hoping it was for yours. You looked at Zach with a hopeful gleam, sipping your drink as he talked.

“You look so beautiful tonight, y/n,” Dani said, and Jamie whirled around, feeling betrayed that one of his closest friends would turn on the charm for the girl he liked.

But that’s just it. No one else knew about your secret rendezvous and hookups. As far as everyone else was concerned, you were fair game.

And Jamie hated it.

Why hadn’t he pressed to go on a date sooner? Beg you to stay the night?

In the back of his mind, his insecurities vibrated. He didn’t think he was good enough for someone like you, forever stuck in the friend zone. If you even considered him a friend. He was willing to take any part of you that you would offer.

He watched you blush at the comment, thanking Dani before making eye contact with Jamie. Behind the annoyance, your eyes still sparkled with a bit of nervousness. All he wanted to do was tuck the flyaway strand of hair behind your ear and kiss the daylights out of you.

Take you on a real date with dinner and music and he’d show up with flowers for God’s sake— he’d do everything right. Give you a proper ‘Tartt’ jersey, wave to you on the sidelines during a match, kiss you every time he scored.

But it was all a fantasy. And all he did was stand still, ruining your date with Zach at Bones and Honey.

Zach and Dani moved on to discuss the menu selections and Sam gave Jamie a massive side eye before pulling out his phone and turning away from you and him.

You didn’t hesitate to take the opportunity to rip into Jamie.

“Do you want to explain what you’re doing here?”

Normally cool under pressure, Jamie found himself stuttering out an answer. “I ain’t here for you! Sam and Dani wanted to go out— how was I supposed to know they wanted to come here?”

“You could’ve suggested somewhere else?”

Your eyes didn’t hold the fury from before, now it was a mild annoyance. Jamie relented with a sigh.

“I’ll keep ‘em out of your hair,” he said. “Sorry to ruin your night.”

Your expression softened at his words, and you surrendered as well, offering a slight smile. “Thank you. I’ll see you at work, yeah?”

He nodded before forcing himself to step away, calling Dani and Sam to follow him to the other side of the bar. He found a table and offered to buy some food for their group, which clearly distracted Dani, who went on about the menu choices, the bar itself, and more.

Jamie zoned most of it out, staring at his hands as they traced the sweat on his drink glass.

“The world is such a wonderful place,” Dani said. “What a beautiful coincidence to run into our Richmond members on a night out!”

Sam jostled his shoulder light heartedly. “Come on, Dani, doesn’t it seem like too much of a coincidence?”

He looked directly at Jamie as he said that, raising his eyebrows with an unspoken question.

Jamie fumbled for an answer, scared to give too much away but also desperate to have someone to talk to about this. He hadn’t mentioned sleeping with you to anyone, not even Roy or Keeley. Sometimes he felt like the whole thing was a dream and if he told anyone about it, he would wake up.

His lack of words was enough for Sam though, who nodded in an understanding way. Jamie tried to focus on the food and drinks and pay attention to what Dani and Sam said, but his eyes had a mind of their own, looking over at the bar in the hopes to get a few stolen glances of you.

Finally the crowded bar room cleared a bit and he had a view. And he suddenly wished he’d never looked at all.

You were giggling over something Zach had said, touching his arm playfully while taking a sip of your drink. Jamie’s lips pressed into a thin line.

He didn’t want to do this anymore. He didn’t want to watch you be cute on a date with another guy. He didn’t want to wonder why you didn’t take him seriously. He didn’t want to sit here with Dani and Sam as they caught on and teased him about his stupid crush.

“Forget it, I’m going home.”

He was silent as he placed a few bills on the table to cover the food and drinks and got up.

Jamie didn’t look at you again as he walked out.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt smut #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt fic #ted lasso fic #ted lasso fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #my works #dwoht fic

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softpascalito · 5 months

Text

Worth crossing a blizzard for - Pedro Pascal x Reader

Summary: During shooting for The Last of Us, a snowstorm hits Canada, essentially forcing Pedro to take the day off. Turns out its not as bad as he thinks.

Relationships: Pedro Pascal x Reader WC: 1600 Tags/Warnings: MDNI, RPF, Real-Person-Fiction, Non-Explicit Sex, showering together, Gender-neutral Reader, Snow, blizzard, Crew Reader, The Last of Us Shooting, Canada, Kissing, Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Soft Pedro Pascal, Healthy Relationships, Secret Relationship Read on AO3 full advent calendar (updated daily)

notes: i haven't written pedro in sooo long, i miss him. needless to say, this is the lil version i created of him in my head and not necesarily an accurate representation of his actual personality <3 also, this is another lil entry for stephs winter writing challenge with the trope warmth, i highly recommend checking the entire list if youre interested :) (@toomanystoriessolittletime)

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

It starts with a light snowfall, little white particles floating through the air, rushing past the car as he drives back from set and a small sigh escapes his lips. It's been snowing on and off for weeks, usually meaning an earlier calltime for everyone, to make sure the locations can be cleared from the thin layer of snow if needed.

The wind has picked up by the time Pedro reaches the apartment that has been his home for the last few weeks and when he steps out of the shower half an hour later, the light snowfall has developed into a full-on blizzard, complete with cars honking in the streets below and his phone vibrating angrily, demanding attention. A rushed glance as he gets dressed confirms his suspicions. There's several warnings of severe weather, most of them due to hit tonight.

A gentle knock on the front door lets the man whip around and a small frown builds on his forehead as he crosses the hallway, taking a quick glance through the peephole. He practically yanks the door open.

You have your coat wrapped tightly around yourself, a knitted hat drawn down to your ears and a scarf wrapped around your neck. The two latter are practically soaked, decorated with little white crystals all over that are beginning to melt in the slightly warmer air of the hallway and dripping down onto the door mat.

Pedro stays still for a moment, taking in your form in front of him, before his brain registers what's going on. He reaches out, pulling you into the apartment, “What the hell were you thinking?”

The door closes behind you and the frown that decorated Pedros face a moment ago is now appearing on yours, “I- What?” For a split second you wonder if he's mad. He rarely gets a day off and even when he does, he usually spends it doing something, unable to just sit and relax, even for a little while. Maybe he's made plans for tonight and you've just crashed them.

“You can't be walking around in a blizzard like this, look at yourself,” he tuts, helping you take your wet coat off along with the hat and scarf and maneuvering them into the bathroom to hang them up to dry. You take your boots off carefully, gaze never leaving the man in front of you, “It's barely a twenty minute walk.”

“You're telling me you didn't even get a taxi?” He asks as he returns to the hallway and watches you put your shoes onto a small shoe tray.

“Does it look like I got a taxi?” You shoot back, getting a little irritated with how concerned he is. Immediately, Pedros gaze softens a bit and a small grumble escapes his throat as he takes a step forward, bringing his fingers up to your hair to carefully pick a snowflake out of it.

It melts between his fingers.

“No, you don't,” he muses, smiling a little sheepishly. “You could've called me. I would've picked you up.” You can't help but chuckle a little at that, “I did call you. You didn't pick up. The phone, I mean.” He stares at you for a moment, then back at his phone that has at least a dozen unread messages, then back to you, “Fuck, I- I was taking a shower, guess I didn’t hear-”

“It's fine,” you promise gently, standing on your tiptoes to place a small kiss on his cheek. Pedro sighs a little, taking in the way you’re looking at him and eventually nodding as he leads you further into the small apartment. It's spacious for one person but cozy for two, production of course not having calculated that you would be here too. You tried to stick to only sleeping over on weekends for a while, arguing that Pedro needed his rest and a quiet environment to go over his lines. He argued back that he slept a lot better with you beside him.

“You want a coffee?” He offers and you nod yes, following him to the open kitchen and hopping onto the counter as he grabs a mug for you.

“So you haven't read it yet?” You ask, rubbing your hands together in an effort to warm them up. “Read what?” His back is to you, the sound of the coffee machine starting almost drowning out his words.

“Shoot is canceled for tomorrow. Probably until next week.”

Something about your tone makes him turn around to face you. He's in front of you a second later, hands resting on your waist as he studies your face, “And you're not happy about that?”

“Why would I? It sets us back at least two days and were already behind, at this rate reshoots-”

Pedro hums a little and squeezes your waist, causing you to fall quiet.

“I don't like it either but-”

You cut him off before you can stop yourself, shaking your head as you speak and lowering your gaze towards the floor, “It's just really bad timing and I have so much to do already and-”

“Hey, look at me.”

He squeezes again, a little harder this time, and one hand comes up to nudge your chin until you're looking right at him. You find soft brown eyes, the little patch in his beard you like so much and hair that's still a little damp from showering.

“It's snow. You can't do anything about snow.”

You let your head fall forward again, letting out a small sigh, “Yeah, I know.” Pedro gently brings his arms around you, holding you close for a moment. The coffee machine beeps, signaling that it's done. But he doesn't let go yet, rubbing your back a little instead.

“The way I see it,” he starts. “We may as well enjoy our night in. Even if it wasn't exactly planned. Plus, there's no way in hell I'll let you go back out there anyway.”

He does have a point. And a night off, especially a night off for both of you, doesn't sound too bad, even if it's constricted to the small apartment you're sitting in.

As soon as your coffee is empty and a few urgent messages are replied to, Pedro insists on a shower to warm you up. You're halfway to the bathroom before you turn around with a small smile on your face, “You're gonna let me shower alone?”

“I just showered,” Pedro replies almost automatically, putting your mug away. Then, he catches the small twinkle in your eye.

“You just showered,” you repeat, the smile still decorating your face and Pedro nods a few times before getting into motion.

“I guess I could do with another one.”

For once, there's no rush. You take your time, with the shower and everything that it includes. You spend what feels like a solid five minutes kissing afterwards, already scrubbed clean and so, so content. The air is steamy when you step out of the shower and Pedro really does treat you to the full experience, insisting on applying your lotion for you.

You hum contently as he gently massages it into your back, your muscles tingling with relief. He chuckles softly behind you, “Feeling a little warmed up already?”

“More than a little. Don't know how you do it.”

You lightly slap his ass on the way to the bedroom.

After securing your favorite sweater of his and some sweatpants, you find yourself in the kitchen again, rummaging through the cupboards to figure out what to cook up with the scarce ingredients available. You both usually eat on location or get some takeout on the way home, not to speak of the lack of cooking skill you both possess.

It ends up being pasta with some leftover greens and tomatoes and for once, you could swear it tastes ten times better than whatever takeout you could've gotten. You're cuddled up on the couch, staring out into the dark, gusts of snow still blowing past the window. The traffic jams have calmed down, the people returned to their houses to find shelter from the cold. Only a few lost ones are still wandering around, no doubt with a goal that justifies a walk through the conditions. You understand them.

Pedro watches a man disappear around the corner and swallows his mouthful of pasta, “Are you sure you didn't catch a cold?”

You smile weakly, “ Even if I did, it would be worth it. I'd trade a cold for a night off with you. You know that.” He chuckles a little, tilting his head slightly, “Just saying, it may be a little on the nose for both of us to get sick at the same time.”

You raise a brow as you finish your plate and gently put it down before cuddling into Pedro’s side, drawing your legs up onto the couch, “There's a blizzard. It's not that on the nose.”

The snowflakes landing on the window stay there for a few moments, glistening in the dim light from inside the apartment before the warmth seems to reach through the glass. One by one, they turn into small drops of water.

He considers your words for a moment before nodding, “Yeah. Yeah, I guess you're right.” His arm wraps around you, pulling you in a little more as you rest your head against his shoulder. He leans down to plant a small kiss on your head and you hum contently, smiling to yourself.

The snowflakes melt on the window pane. You melt in Pedros arms.

Your voice is only a mumble.

“Besides- you can't do anything about snow.”

notes: hey babes! im considering a second part to this so let me know if that's something you'd like <3

#pedropascaladventcalender #softpascalitosadventcalendar #pedro pascal / reader #pedro pascal / you #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #gender-neutral reader #christmas #snow #fluff #softpascalito #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #fanfic #oneshot #rpf #real person fiction #stephswinterwritingchallenge

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floral-force · 1 year

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Fire Up the Engines - oneshot

din djarin x female reader, mechanic!reader (no y/n)

summary: Din Djarin's ship is in need of intense repairs, and he lands in Peli's hangar for help. The witty mechanic assisting Peli with the work might be too enticing and seductive for Din to ignore.

words: 5.9k+

warnings: Explicit, 18+ ONLY; smut (rough sex, fingering, p-in-v), unprotected sex

note: this is filth. plain and simple. have you ever thought about fucking din in his ship? me too--so i wrote a fic. read on ao3 | fic masterlist

Peli shielded her eyes from Tatooine’s blazing twin suns to watch the pre-Empire ship that was landing in her hanger, its engines roaring. She grinned as Din Djarin walked down its lowered ramp with Grogu in the satchel across his chest. He met her where she stood in the shaded tool shed, light bouncing off his armor and onto the curved ceiling.

“Didn’t expect to see you back so soon! But I’d never turn down a chance to see my little buddy!”

Grogu chirped at her and looked up at Din, wiggling around. His helmet tilted back slightly and he sighed, lifting the child out of the satchel and handing him to Peli. He popped his hand on his hip and let the surrogate aunt coo and bounce his strange, adopted child in her arms, the large ears on his wrinkled green head perked up. Din knew Grogu liked visiting Peli—she coddled him almost more than Din did. Aside from that, he could never deny one of the few people he trusted Grogu’s affection.

“I need some repairs,” he stated, watching some of her droids hesitantly pick up toolboxes.

“Already? I just got you this while you were here helping the other guy! Should be as good as—well, not new, but as good as we got it when you were here.”

Din exhaled and crossed his arms. “I had a rough couple of bounties.”

“Pirates?”

“And raiders.”

Her eyes widened and she shook her head. “Well, thank the Force you made it here. If it’s really that bad, then I think I need to contact one of my guys.”

“I don—”

She waved a hand and shushed him. “Before you even start, I trust this one. She’s my go-to when I know that only using my droids won’t be enough.”

Din rolled his shoulders back and looked at Grogu, who tilted his head and gurgled. He sighed and simply said, “Fine.”

“Alright!” She smiled, her missing tooth adding to the charisma and brightness that she managed to bring no matter where she went. “I’ll go give her a quick call. Shouldn’t be long.”

Din took a step forward and extended his arms. Grogu’s tiny claws wiggled at Peli as she gently passed him off to Din, telling him she’d be back soon with a snack for him. Din cradled the child in his left arm and turned to face the hangar. His visor settled on a crate on the other side, his boots kicking up tiny puffs of sand as he walked over to it under the suns’ relentless rays. The clan of two was soon hidden again in the shade, Din’s knees cracking as he sat on the crate.

“What do you think, kid?” he asked, running his index finger along one of Grogu’s large, pointed ears.

“Patu,” Grogu chirped, tilting his head in response, his large brown eyes fixed on Din’s beskar helmet.

Din nodded in agreement and tried to ignore the heat of Tatooine even as he sat in the shade. He hoped that Peli’s contact would be over sooner rather than later and would help make short work of the damage his attackers had done before he blasted them to bits.

Din watched her with crossed arms as she inspected the ship with Peli, her brow furrowing when she noticed a dent or carbon scoring. She was constantly taking notes on her holopad, wiping her brow while she wrote and listened to Peli. At one point, she squatted down ten feet in front of where Din stood to point something out to Peli—a couple tubes were exposed, the metal covering completely blown off—and his eyes lingered too long on the wet spots that had already formed on her back before they trailed down further. He had to avert his eyes, turning his head ever so slightly.

After what felt like hours, she walked over to where he stood in the shade with Grogu at his feet, curiously peeking out from behind his calf. She chuckled at the green toddler, wiping her brow as her eyes settled onto his visor.

“So, Mando, you’ve had quite the adventure, huh?” she asked, the corner of her lips quirking up into a smile.

“You could say that.”

“I think the carbon scoring and the busted turbine in one of your engines said it for me,” she teased, looking down at her holopad and leaning on her hip. “Well, it might take until the suns set, but Peli and I can get it done. It’ll set you back, though.”

“I can pay.”

She looked up at him through her lashes and his heart quickened when he noticed her gaze linger on his utility built, grazing slowly back up to his helmet. “I’m sure you can.”

He hesitated, his pulse pounding in his ears as she smiled coyly at him. Din was good for the money—and whatever else she desired from him.

She finally broke her gaze, turning over her shoulder to wave at Peli and give her a thumbs up. Peli nodded and started rounding her droids up and yelling at them to pick up their tools and hustle for her best customer. When she turned back around to face Din, he focused on how soft her lips looked as she flashed him yet another killer smile. He tried his best not to let his eyes get too greedy taking in her figure, but he couldn’t help stop himself from watching a bead of sweat travel down her neck and across the ridge of her collarbone, slipping into her cleavage. A heat rushed throughout his body, and it wasn’t from the brutal midday heat.

“Well, um…I’ll get to it then.” She rubbed the back of her neck and took a step back towards the tool shed. “Shouldn’t be long, Mando. I’ll try not to keep you waiting.”

Din stared at her as she turned and walked away, his attention stolen by the way her long brown cargo pants perfectly outlined her ass.

Grogu’s chirps snapped him out of his trance, and he picked his son up, letting him nestle into the bend of his arm.

“You hungry?” he asked, looking down at his son. “Me too.”

After taking Grogu to a nearby market for a meal and ration restock, he arrived back to the hangar as the suns were setting. The sky was turning a light shade of pink, purple melting into it as dusk approached. He saw Peli’s droids wiping down different parts of his ship with polishing rags, their binary chatter filling the empty evening air.

“Make that hunk’a junk sparkle!” Peli yelled, her hands on her hips.

“Thought you said my ship was in the best condition you’d ever seen for what it was.”

She jumped around in surprise, her unique smile lighting up the hangar as he stepped into it from the entryway. “Mando! You’re back right in time. Droids are polishing her up, and she’s finishing up one last thing with one of the guns.”

Din nodded, feeling Grogu wiggle in the satchel. “Can I set these things down in the hull?” he asked, lifting the bags of rations—and a few special treats Grogu had waved into Din’s basket with his powers—he carried in his hands.

“Go right ahead! But before you do—” Peli ran in front of him and held her hands out. “Lemme have the little womp rat! I gotta show him how to kick butt at cards.”

Din heard Grogu babble up at him, and he sighed, setting the heavy bags down. Those eyes were his biggest weakness. He gently took the satchel off, handing the gurgling bundle off to a very excited Peli. He watched her walk away with a spring her step, responding to Grogu’s chirps with colorful commentary. He shook his head and chuckled under the helmet. Something told him Grogu would leave Tatooine even morespoiled than the last time they’d visited.

He pressed a button on his vambrace, and the ramp lowered. Din picked the bags up again, his muscles straining with the weight, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle; Tatooine just made every physical task more tiring than it was to begin with. He walked up and into his ship, heading over to the ration crate. Din dropped the bags in with a grunt, then put his hands on his hips, satisfied. After raising the ramp and closing the ship up, he dropped to one knee and sifted through the bags, looking for Grogu’s special treats so he could set them aside.

“You’ve got quite a unique ship, Mando.”

Din immediately drew his blaster, his head snapping up so he could better his aim at the woman in front of him.

“Whoa! It’s me!” she said, throwing her hands up. Her clothes had splotches of dirt and grease on them, the palms of her working gloves dirtied as well. There was a smear of grease on her cheek, and it wrinkled when she smiled at him. The sweat on her brow and under her eyes sent a chill down his spine; it was oddly enticing, highlighting features he hadn’t noticed earlier.

He should know better by now when it came to Peli and trusting people. It only got him into trouble he hadn’t wanted in the first place.

And this mechanic was the epitome of trouble, her seductive smile and enticing body only fueling the growing fire within him.

He squeezed his blaster, the pinch of his glove snapping him back to the present threat. “How did you get in here?” Din asked, his voice darkening.

“I was fixing the gun and had to open the belly up a bit to get to some wires. I ended up over by the privy.” When Din didn’t lower his blaster, she quickly added, “Don’t worry, I didn’t touch anything! You do a good enough job messing her up on your own.”

Din answered her quip with silence. Her smile fell, and she looked down at the floor. He kept his blaster raised only so he could keep her in front of him—he wanted to take in every part of her that he didn’t get to earlier, from her messy hair to her scuffed-up boots. The cargo pants she wore were now stained with dirt and grease, and they hugged her perfectly in the thighs—and he knew from earlier that they made her ass look delicious, too. They were sloppily cuffed over leather lace-up boots, but he paid no mind to them. His mind was focused solely on how fast he could undo the belt cinched around her waist and gain access to the skin hidden under fabric and mesh. The thought alone was enough to send a chill down his spine and make his cock twitch; she was totally clothed and yet his head grew heavy with lust.

Din had to wrench his eyes up and away from the belt; any longer, and he knew his cock would grow visibly hard. The gray sleeveless shirt she wore clung to her body, grease and other random splotches lightly patterning it. His eyes landed on her chest, and he noticed that she was breathing a little heavier than she had been earlier, her chest rising and falling in a rhythm driven by nerves and, maybe, anticipation. The straps of the sleeveless top rested on top of darker ones, which led him to believe that she was wearing some sort of bra; Din made a mental note to take care of that when the time came. He’d been too busy studying the way sweat dripped into her cleavage to have noticed it earlier. Even in the cool hull of the ship, her bare arms and shoulders glistened with sweat. Her gloved hands were trembling so softly that Din wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t been imagining them clutching his armor.

Under his scrutiny, she felt her skin tingle. Her heart was starting to speed up, banging against her ribs, pumping her blood full of adrenaline. Underneath the anxiety, though, was a hint of excitement. Something about the void of the visor sucked her right in, dropping her into a black pool of desire—desire.

He tilted his helmet up at her, and her eyes caught the movement. He stood and holstered his blaster, and she dropped her hands, a sigh escaping her lips. Din took a step closer, invading her space. Her breath caught in her throat as she looked up at him through her lashes. Din clenched his fists when she bit her bottom lip and looked down at the ground again. He almost wanted her to see his growing erection, wantedher to see that she was close to pushing him past the point of no return.

“You’re a man of few words,” she quietly remarked, her heart fluttering a bit when he tilted his head to the side.

“I’m more of a man of action.”

His smooth voice ran over her like water after a long day, seeping into her bones—but his voice was pure gasoline, lighting her insides on fire instead of quenching her thirst for more. Heat rushed to her cheeks, and she gingerly placed a gloved hand on his chest, the metal dividing them. Din didn’t even care that he’d have to polish it and work a little harder to get the grease and grime off it; his thoughts were clouded with her, desire starting to overtake him.

“Wanna show me, Mando?”

Her sultry invitation sent flames through his veins. She yelped when his hands pushed her back into the wall near the ladder to the cockpit; her coy smile up at him and soft nod let him know that she liked it. The force of him pushing her back and pressing her against the cold metal wall added fuel to the growing fire he’d lit within her, and she squirmed when she felt a throb between her legs. She squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lower lip. Din wished he could be the one tugging on it with his teeth, but he’d have to settle with the show she was giving him, her lovely face’s demure expression beginning to melt and reveal the neediness below the surface.

Din used her need to his advantage, crowding into her, slotting his left thigh between her legs. He could hear her soft pants, his helmet close enough that the hot exhales fogged up the beskar. The way her legs shifted to welcome his leg gave her growing arousal away. He chuckled, and she immediately perked up, her eyes opening and centering back on his visor. Her pupils were blown, her lips gently parted, sweat gathering again on her forehead because of the Mandalorian pressing up against her. Din drank it all in, his lips parted underneath his helmet, eyes heavy with want.

She whined and looked up when his hands trailed slowly down from her shoulders to her chest, the rough leather dragging across the sensitive, sticky skin.

“Do you want more?”

Her eyes dropped back to his visor. She nodded enthusiastically, whispering yes please touch me more as Din traced a finger back up to her shoulder, his cock aching in response to her plea. When he took a small step back, she whimpered, already feeling an ache at the loss of his thigh and the pressure from his armor.

She kept her eyes on his helmet, watching it turn to the left as he toyed with the straps on her shoulder, pulling them up with two fingers.

“Take these—” He released the straps, the snap against her skin making her whine, “—Off.”

He took his hands off her, taking a few more steps back so he could take all of her in. He dropped a hand over the bulge in his pants and roughly palmed it through his pants as she lifted the dirty shirt over her head, letting it fall to the floor. Din choked and his cock throbbed when she pulled her banded bra off, finally revealing her tits. He noticed her nipples pebble almost immediately, accenting the soft skin she’d been hiding from him all this time.

“Fuck,” he growled, closing the short distance between them with heavy, needy steps.

She giggled when he lifted her off her feet, moving her back to the wall, closer to the ladder this time. He set her down with a low groan that sent electric shocks throughout her body and heat to her cheeks. She closed her eyes, her mind racing as much as her heart was. She wanted to run her hands across his body, finger the uncovered parts of him, work him and unravel him as much as he was doing it to her.

She was also perfectly happy to let the Mandalorian grip her skin hard and tight, make her hiss when he pinched her nipples between gloved fingers, and to let him press into her, the cold metal of his armor leaving shallow indents in her skin. His roughness enticed her and made her burn even more, the heat starting to pool in her core, more dripping down with every squeeze of her ass and heady groan that escaped his lips.

The clang of metal hitting metal disrupted her thoughts of peeling the armor off piece by piece, and she looked down to see the Mandalorian on his knees, his helmet fixed on her face. When his hands came to grip her shins, she closed her eyes and let the back of her head hit the wall, arousal pooling low in her core and dampening her panties. She giggled when one of his hands squeezed her thigh, almost missing the low groan that slipped out of him.

“So fucking sexy,” he purred, his hands now running up and down her legs, the pads of his fingers digging in and applying pressure.

Her knees trembled, and the whine that slipped out of her mouth made him pause for a moment. Din Djarin wasn’t normally greedy, but in this moment, he wanted to own every part of her. Every part of her demanded attention, and he was determined to be the only one who could tame and satiate her. He wanted to be the one she thought of when she touched herself, the one she compared every other person to, the one who drove her crazy with lust.

Din knew exactly where to strike next to make his purpose clear.

He looked up at her, the skin of her torso glistening with sweat, her breasts tempting him and teasing him. Din edged his right hand down to her knee, and his left resumed stroking up and down. With no ceremony or grace, he looped his arm under her left leg and lifted it, adjusting his position and her leg so her knee came to rest on his shoulder, the cool metal of his pauldron slowly seeping through the fabric of her pants. She gasped and her hands clutched the wall, her left landing on a rung of the ladder. Din smiled under his helmet at the sight of her, half naked and unconsciously rocking her hips towards his helmet.

He cupped his left hand against her hidden sex, and she whined, pressing down for some sort of release. His quiet laughter at her neediness only made her cunt ache more, his roughness only turning her on more.

“Please, touch me,” she panted, her knuckles white and skin sensitive.

“I already am.” When she groaned at his snarky answer, he abruptly pressed the palm of his hand against her with more pressure, whisking the irritation right out of her mind. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

Her head felt light as he began to slowly rub his hand back and forth, the broad pressure and sensation making her wetter by the second. She managed to collect herself and mumble between pants and whimpers, “Please…Please touch my…touch my pussy.”

“Good girl.”

The purred praise made her body shake and the whine that she released was music to Din’s ears. Under the helmet, a devilish grin spread across his face as he lowered her leg off his shoulder and then quickly undid her belt, throwing it to the side, the tools attached to it clattering on the metal ground. All she could do was watch him stand up and yank her pants and underwear down to her boots. She hissed when cold air hit her hot skin, her naked body on display to the Mandalorian. Leather traced down her legs as she drew her arms back in to her body. She tore her gloves off and let her bare hands find their way to her tits, massaging them and slipping over the sweat that had gathered on her skin.

“Wish I could just cut these in two,” she heard him growl before forcing her to spread her legs as much as she could.

“Gotta make it challenging somehow,” she teased.

He nodded, his left arm wrapping around her waist, lifting her off the wall a bit. His left leg came to rest between hers, and she whimpered when he pushed against her right leg, forcing her to stay spread open for him. Din’s free hand came to rest on her cheek before pushing her hands out of the way so he could roughly massage her tits, the force of it all making her melt. He could smell her—sweat, grease, lust—as he bent his neck and nudged his helmet against her head, pleased when her hands gripped his wrist, begging him to explore her further.

He straightened up, his helmet once again focused on her, her wide eyes and sweaty brow giving him a primal satisfaction that rushed to his cock. He saw her eyes dart to the obvious bulge, and as her hands started to make a dive for it, he clicked his tongue and snatched her wrists in his hand.

“Not yet,” he said in response to her whine. “Keep massaging those pretty tits of yours for me, baby.”

She nodded, immediately doing as told. When he interrupted her, taking one of her hands in his, she gave him a quizzical look, catching her breath. “Something wrong?”

“Take the glove off for me, pretty girl.”

Her plush lips spread into an eager smile, and she quickly yanked his glove off. Before he could work any lower, she looked right into his visor and gripped his wrist, bringing his index and middle fingers to her lips. Din sharply inhaled when she took them into her mouth, her tongue swirling around them, carving patterns only she knew into his skin. His cock was heavy and ready, and Din had to bite the inside of his cheek so he didn’t just fuck her right where she stood. Her pretty lips wrapped around his fingers, and she moaned at the salty taste of his skin, knowing exactly where his fingers were going next when she took them out of her mouth with a pop.

Din pulled his hand out of her weak grip, reaching between her legs and sliding between her folds. He focused on her the entire time, his helmet never focused on anything other than her face, perspiration sitting at her hairline. Noticing hers made him suddenly feel the sweat dripping down his neck and temples, physical proof of the heat from his motion and of the fire within him.

When his fingers graced over her clit, she jumped and hissed, arching and bucking into him. He pushed further back, and when his fingers grazed over her slit, a loud whine filled the hull, a moan trailing after it when he slipped a digit into her. He exhaled a gentle laugh at her neediness as he listened to her begs for more, more fill the air. He could feel her walls already starting to tighten, and he couldn’t deny her any longer.

Din slowly pulled his finger out of her slick cunt, trailing it back up and adding a second to rub slow circles on the sensitive bud. She keened and pressed her hands against his shoulders at his achingly slow touch, her fingers clutching at his pauldrons. Heat ran through her, sweat dripping down her forehead and starting to collect behind her knees as she chased her climax. The Mandalorian’s fingers worked her clit perfectly, her achingly empty cunt starting to tighten and flutter. He sensed her growing desperation and traced his fingers back to her slit, the pads of them circling and dragging the slick that leaked out of her around her entrance. She whined even louder, moaning and begging and bucking her hips forward.

“You’ve been so good for me,” Din purred, his head light. “And you know what good girls get?”

She opened her eyes and shook her head.

“They get to come for me.”

As Din spoke, he slid two thick fingers inside of her, her gasp making him grin in satisfaction. Her eyes went wide, and then she squeezed them shut, her entire body tensing up. Din pumped his fingers, his left hand splaying across her back to hold her steady and support her as she reached her peak. Her mouth fell open, her eyelids fluttering. He curled his fingers and stroked back and forth in a certain spot he’d noticed had been making her cry out, focusing all his attention there. Din was rewarded with a strangled cry and felt her tighten around him, even her legs getting tense.

“Look at me.”

Din’s command broke through her ecstasy. Her eyes opened and focused on him. A bead of sweat trailed down her neck—he wished he could lick it up with his tongue.

“Don’t hold back,” Din grunted, “Be a good girl and come for me.”

She kept her eyes open as her jaw dropped, a silent scream escaping her open mouth as her climax set her on fire. Her legs shook and Din licked his lips as her cunt pulsed and contracted around his fingers, dragging his fingers against that spot one last time before pulling them out. Her chest heaved up and down, waves of pleasure and flames of want still clashing within her. She whined at the empty feeling, then yelped in surprise when he slid his fingers into her mouth, her orgasm still coating them.

“Taste yourself.” Din’s helmet tilted up slightly as he slid them into her mouth all the way to the knuckle. She stared at him as her tongue went to work, eagerly licking his fingers clean. Her head was heavy with pleasure, and she worked fast so her empty cunt could be filled again.

“Good fucking girl,” Din growled. He slid his fingers out of her mouth and placed his hand on her waist. He took a moment to take in her sweaty skin, his eyes scanning her again, plotting his next move.

He wanted that tongue on his cock, but he’d tortured himself enough.

From the look in her eyes, Din could tell she knew it too.

Under the helmet, he spotted two crates stacked on top of each other to his left. His eyes went back to her, and before she had time to process what was happening, he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off the ground. She squealed, stumbling when he roughly set her down. After she caught her balance, he pushed her lower back down, forcing her to bend over. The slight arch of her back skillfully presented the thighs and ass she’d kept hidden under the cargo pants; the seductive sight of it caused Din to already start to unravel.

“How’s the view?”

Her cheeky question made him laugh as he quickly undid his belt and dropped his pants enough for his cock to spring out, the tip leaking sticky beads of fluid. He stroked himself, giving her plump ass a smack with his gloved hand and enjoying the way it moved. She recoiled and hissed at the sting, but it sent a jolt of electricity through her, the fire in her core sparked and growing again.

“I love it,” he said, accenting his statement with another spank.

He pressed the fat head of his cock against her slit, soaking it in her arousal and groaning at how wet she still was. Din guided his cock up and down through her folds with his bare hand, biting his lip when he felt her juices start to coat his fingers. Slowly, he started to rock his hips into her, his restrained moans joining her shameless begging as his cock glided back and forth from her slick entrance to her clit and back again at a faster pace. He placed his hands on her hips and massaged the sensitive skin, enjoying the warmth of it. It was torture for both, flames engulfing them and demanding attention. She gasped and mewled—Mando, Mando, fuck—and pressed her ass back as much as she could just to feel more of him. The desire to be full of him was overriding everything else within her, and Din had teased himself long enough.

“Fuck, I can’t take it anymore,” he growled, his fingers digging into her flesh.

He slid into her cunt, her walls still slick from the orgasm he pulled out of her. Her moan echoed in the hull and bounced around in his helmet, a sound he never wanted to forget. A moan slipped from Din’s mouth after he buried himself to the hilt inside of her, a strangled groan and growl from deep in his throat.

“Stars, you fill me up so fucking good,” she mewled, a sharp thrust eliciting a high-pitched whimper immediately after.

Din’s brow furrowed and sweat dripped down his temples. He was already close to spilling, his cock throbbing as he fucked her, his speed increasing after her praise. The obscene sound of skin slapping skin reverberated in the hull, the canvas that they painted with their moans and whines. Her ass bounced beautifully with every thrust, and the way his greedy gloved hand massaged the meaty flesh sent jolts of pleasure throughout her body.

She had never been fucked like this—so primal, rough, fast—and it made her cunt clamp around him again. When he placed his bare hand on the small of her back and pushed down, pressing her into the crate, she gasped, her fingers flexing out for stability. The new angle allowed his cock to drive into her, filling her to the brim even more than he already had. She whined and her cries grew louder, finally turning her head to try to see the Mandalorian. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his helmet was tilted back, his groans so loud that they overpowered the vocoder in his helmet.

He was raw and burning and harsh. The way he fucked her without mercy made her eyes roll back into her head; he impaled her on his length and she loved it. Every thrust was pushing her closer to the edge again, and she made sure he knew it. She twisted her arm to find the wrist on her back and gripped it. The contact caused his hips to stutter briefly as she started to meet his thrusts with needy movements of her own, pushing back with her ass to chase her growing orgasm. He was lavishing her with aggressive attention, slamming into her just to prove his point, driving her further into pleasure. Her mouth fell open, eyebrows scrunching together as his cock tore through her and shocked her entire body.

“Please don’t stop—Mando—fuck, I-I’m so fucking close, I’m right fucking there,” she whined, moaning Mando over and over, a prayer that flooded his entire body with fire, shooting electricity into his veins.

She moaned and her walls fluttered around him, the movement making his head light and his breath quicken. He fucked into her faster, harder, relentlessly so he could follow with her. Din’s grip on her tightened as his thrusts became erratic. She was already committing this to memory—his sharp thrusts, the modulated groans and growls, the full feeling in her core—just so she could pleasure herself to it again.

There was only one piece missing—one thing that would send her toppling over the edge. She forced her lips to close again, willing her muscles to work so she could speak coherently.

“Breed me,” she groaned, twisting to look at him with drool dripping down her chin.

The sight alone nearly tipped Din over the edge, but he held back just to fuck her a few moments more. He wanted to selfishly relish in the way he’d made her look, all messy and subdued. Tamed. And now, she wanted to be bred, claimed.

She had pushed him to the edge, made his cock throb against her walls. Din gasped and grunted as he kept fucking her, knowing he couldn’t deny himself much longer.

“I wanna be fucking leaking after this,” she growled, gritting her teeth. “Breed me, Mando.”

Din threw his head back at her demand, screwing his eyes shut as he felt himself tip over the edge. She growled when he yanked his hand out of her grasp to grip her hip, slamming her back onto his cock. Their animalistic grunts and moans reached a crescendo as Din felt her cunt clench around him right as he erupted, his cock entirely sheathed inside of her. Din groaned with every pulse of his cock, the tight grip he had on her hips slowly loosening. She was gasping, her body shaking with the force of her orgasm.

Din pulled out with a hiss, and he spread her cheeks with his hands, stepping back and tilting his head. His seed was already spilling out of her hole, and she gasped when he gently fingered it back inside of her.

“Can’t waste a single drop of this,” he murmured, licking his lips.

Her small laugh was muffled. He stepped back and gingerly sheathed his cock as she slowly stood up on shaking legs.

“Your ship is a real—ah—piece of work,” she said as she tugged her pants back on, using too much force and irritating her still-sensitive cunt.

“You may have mentioned that,” Din replied.

Din watched as she walked over to her discarded shirt and bra, smiling to himself when he noticed how her gait was a little more awkward than it had been before he bent her over and fucked her senseless. The proof of it was on his fingers, but he destroyed the sweet evidence with a quick wipe of a cloth lying in his rack. The hole she’d climbed out of was nearby, her tools forgotten about. He looked at it, then at her. Sweat glistened on her chest and forehead, the smear of grease on her cheek had disappeared—smudged off on the crate as he fucked her, most likely.

She shot him a shy smile and turned around to pick up her tool belt, facing him again as she strapped it back on. Her work gloves lay near the ladder, and she bent over to grab them. His gaze made her skin feel hot and nervous, but excited. Her body was already begging for more, the fire still raging despite the water thrown on it.

Her fingers toyed with the gloves, and she tapped the toe of one scuffed boot into the metal floor. Her eyes were focused on the floor, teeth worrying her bottom lip. She slowly looked back up at the Mandalorian, trying to push back thoughts of their animalistic sex and the dull throbbing of her cunt.

“Maybe you could use a mechanic,” she shrugged, a playful smile teasing across her lips.

“Yeah,” Din nodded. “I think I could.”

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taglist: @charlottetownwaffles @theamuz @jellybeanstacey0519 @elinedjarin @kaqua @tortor-mcgee @tizylish @graciexmarvel @dheet @kalea-bane @mymindfuckery

#din djarin fic #din djarin x you #mando x reader #mando x you #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian smut #din djarin smut #din x you #din x reader #mechanic!reader #my fic #the Mandalorian x reader #the Mandalorian x you #I hope y'all enjoy my filth #happy to contribute to our collective thirst over the tin can man #the mandalorian

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siriusleee · 5 months

Text

ii. sage green

Zombie Apocalypse AU | SIMON RILEY x f!READER

↳ SUMMARY: The world is trying to knit itself back together after fracturing apart. You're trying to put yourself back together with it; Simon Riley is just trying to stay alive. ↳ WORD COUNT: 2.5K ↳ TAGS: mentions of cannibalism, mentions of shooting things, mentions of dying. smut to come. canon typical violence to come. additional tags to come as the story progresses. female reader. no mentions of "your name". reader is given a nickname later on. nc-17. ↳ AUTHOR'S NOTE: I want to desperately thank @gazs-blue-hat, @lethargicluv, and @victoria-writes-sometimes for proofreading this for me when I was in an exhaustion field brain melt. If you'd like to help wake me up, my Ko-Fi is always open for commissions and donations. ↳ TAG LIST: There will not be a tag list for this story, as Tumblr has issues with letting me tag people. To get notifications of updates, please subscribe on AO3 or turn on notifications for my blog.

additional chapters | ao3

At first, you think it’s the sun warming the attic enough to be stifling, to wake you up from the heat pulling the air from the room.

But your nose catches up with the rest of your brain when the acrid smell of fire catches your senses. You’re awake in an instant, shooting up from your spot. Blind panic overtakes you first; your hands scrambling in the darkness for something . Instinct has you reaching out for a fire extinguisher, for a way out of the room, fingers scrambling against the splintery wood before the rest of you catches up with the situation. It takes almost a second too long before your brain finally processes that there is no fire extinguisher, nothing to do but try to escape.

You scramble to tug your boots on, shoving your thermal blanket into your pack at the same time. Slinging it across your back, you fumble for your bow and arrow pouch; your fingers pull against the rope you’d tied to keep the attic door shut, and in the darkness, you can’t undo it.

The blind panic starts to rage inside of you. Smoke is filtering faster through the cracks in the flooring, obscuring what little you could already see in the moonlight filtering in through the little attic window.

“Fuck,” you whisper to yourself, repeating it louder as your fingers slip against the rope. “Fuck.”

When the hint of flames shows themself at the edges of the attic door, you abandon the attempts to pull the rope off. You pick your way across the attic, lungs screaming as the oxygen is pulled into the fire. The little window overlooking the back garden shatters easily under the weight of your bow slamming into it. But as you watch the glass shards tumble onto the roof, you know that even if you could slice yourself to bits and not attract the Biters, you would never fit through the window. Gulping down the fresh air, you try to hold it in your lungs as long as possible before you’re forced to turn back to the rest of the smoke-filled attic.

Your feet stumble against what you can’t see - you have to pull the rope away from the door. The only other option is to -

The floor falls from beneath your feet. Rotted drywall and insulation rain down with you; your back slams into something solid, a sharp pain shooting through your spine and rib cage. The blaze from the hallway illuminates the sage walls; as you try to catch your breath around the lack of oxygen and the pain spitting through you, you realize that you’ve crashed into the empty nursery.

From the first floor, just loud enough to be heard over the fire, the groans of the Biters come to you around the ringing in your ear. Struggling to breathe around the smoke and moldy insulation that fill your mouth, you scramble to your feet. The taste of iron coats your mouth; through the dirty window, you see a group of Biters congregating on the front porch of the little house.

Whatever human instinct has forced you to survive these past 5 years takes over; you push through the half broken bedroom door and stumble directly into a Biter.

There was a saying - it slams into your brain as you watch the burning mass roll towards you - that whenever soldiers go to war and their adrenaline starts to pump, explosions turn into little “poofs” and gunshots no more than a “pop.” You wonder if it was the adrenaline that turned the Biter’s unearthly wailing into a soft whisper as it flails on the landing, hand reaching for your ankle.

Without thinking, you kick out; the flames bite at your boots, at the skin that shows above the leather. The bottom landing is ablaze, the floor beneath you buckles; the house groans with the weight of the fire and the Biters groan and wail in hunger. Any minute the entire place is going to crumble down into a pile of burning bodies and dust and take you with it.

You stumble past the burning Biter, shoving it away with the end of your bow so that it falls down the steps. Feet heavy and lungs screaming from the lack of oxygen, you punch your way into the other bedroom. Without thinking, you throw yourself through the half open window.

The ground races up to meet you; you try to catch your feet beneath you, but you collapse into darkness instead.

The ringing in your ears is thunderous; the hands that pull at you try to rip you apart. In the darkness, you feel yourself slam into something hard and cold, feel hands slap at the fabric covering your legs. You try to lift yourself, to swing at the force but your body won’t do what your brain is telling you and you wonder if you’ve already been bitten and this eternal blackness is just the beginning of the end.

The ground pulls from underneath you and vaguely you realize that you’re moving. The growling of an ATV cuts through the darkness you’re hovering in along with the feeling of cold metal biting into your back. Your sight is the last sense to come - the sun trying to break through the horizon just barely illuminates the hulking figure driving the ATV - fuzzy at first and then coming into sharp focus.

You thrash out, becoming keenly aware of ropes wrapped around your ankles and feet. You teeter dangerously on the back of the ATV as you roll. In the corner of your eye, you can see the entire village ablaze, the howls of the Biters nearly drowned out by the crackling of the flames. One large hand reaches back to grip the front of your shirt and pulls you back before you can fall off. Too scared to fall off of the back, you lay still.

Like a deer, dressed and ready for slaughter, you ride on the back of the ATV until the flames of the village are gone, and the forest swallows the two of you up. Heart in your throat, you wonder if finally, the body snatchers had gotten to you.

You struggle against the rope binding your hands together. If you can get your hands free, you can fight against him - you’d rather be subject to the Biters, to starvation, than end up the dinner of a savage from the woods.

But the struggle is for nothing: there’s a blinding pain crawling up your legs, and you’re distinctively aware of a pain in your side that you think might be a broken rib. The inside of your mouth and throat are covered in the thick taste of ash and burning Biter and iron. Your soot lined lungs can barely pull in a breath - there’s just not enough strength for you to break free.

The sound of the ATV changes to a lower purr and the vehicle jerks as the driver downshifts. You nearly tumble off the back, but your kidnapper’s hand reaches back around and grips your shirt again.

He doesn’t let you go until the ATV cruises to a stop beside a felled tree, propped up against a second fallen tree, ivy and moss trailing down from where the two meet. When he shifts in his seat to turn the ATV off, you see your bow and pack on the front of the ATV behind a dusty red gas canister and a rifle.

You can’t tell if it’s the angle you’re laying at or if the guy is just huge; there’s not a chance in hell you can fight him off - especially not with the pain that’s radiating through you as the adrenaline wears off.

But it kickstarts again when he turns to you - his eyes are dark in the shadows cast by his mask. A graying skull stares down at you, and you know he’s going to take you to a body farm, that you are fodder beneath his gaze.

He reaches towards you; you jerk back, heart in your throat. The little animalistic part of your brain that’s kept you alive for so many years takes over; you thrash away from him, rolling off of the ATV and slamming into the ground. Your teeth clack, pinching your tongue in between, and fresh blood blooms in your mouth.

“Stop it,” he growls out, peering at you over the edge of the ATV, annoyance written into the wrinkles around his eyes.

You wiggle away from him in the dirt, but this time you don’t escape his hands as he grips the front of your filthy shirt and hauls you upright.

You don’t know what to do, so you spit on him. Saliva and blood spray across his faded black jacket; he doesn’t let you go, and doesn’t even seem phased by your actions. Instead, he drops you down onto your feet; you teeter, struggling to stand with the rope wrapped around your ankles; he keeps one steady hand on your elbow to keep you from falling.

“That make you feel better?” He asks, voice rough and low. You keep your mouth shut; if he’s going to take you to a body farm, he’s not going to get you to talk or beg.

“What were you doing there?”

The silence stretches through the forest; the man breathes heavy through his nose, the sound muffled by the black fabric and skull. This close you can’t tell if it’s real or fake, but you don’t want to find out.

“Are you one of them?”

“One of who?” The question escapes you before you can stop it. But once it’s gone, you realize the ball is in his court - the only bit of power you had was your silence, and you gave it away.

“Answer my question, and I’ll answer yours.”

You chew on the possibilities, but you have to admit that if you don’t answer he may just leave you tied up here for the Biters to find.

“I’m moving north, to where it’s too cold for them during the winter.”

It’s not a good enough answer; he squeezes your elbow. Beneath his fingers, the joints rub together, and you can’t help the yelp you let out.

“I was staying the night there! My group has stayed there for years on our way through.”

“Where’s the rest of your group?”

It’s iron and pennies to say it.

“They’re all gone; I’ve been on my own for the past year.”

He must believe something written on your face because his grip on your elbow loosens. Slowly, he reaches down to tug on the ropes binding your ankles and then your wrists until they fall loose. He keeps one hand on you as he drags you over to the ATV.

“You’re not going to let me go?” Your voice rises in pitch with each word.

“Dunno who you might run back to.”

He shoves your pack in your arms. Beneath it is another pack, this one dark black and dusty. He slings it onto himself, along with your bow and arrow carrier. The rifle also comes off of the ATV and over his other shoulder. He never lets go of the grip on your arm, pulling you around painfully as he moves.

“Go move the ivy out of the way,” he says, shoving you towards the two fallen trees. You eye the rifle on his back - it would drop you before you could get ten feet. So you follow his directions, pulling back the ivy. Behind it is a cut out in the hill, a dark pit, and for a moment you think he’s going to push you in. But then, without a sign of a struggle, he pushes the ATV into the hole and you realize it’s a hiding spot.

He pushes you out of the way, rearranging the plant life until it again looks like just two trees toppled onto each other. With a smooth, practiced motion, the rifle slides into his hands, and he gestures toward the open forest with it.

“Start walking.”

You don’t know how far the two of you walk; the cold starts to seep through the thinning material of your boots, and with each step the burns and bruises you acquired during the house fire grow more painful - the sharp pinch in your rib makes it hard to breath, but you don’t want to show a sign of weakness. If he thinks you’re not eatable, he might just shoot you where you stand.

But you know that if your feet are beneath you, you have a chance of running free.

The horizon grows gray with the threat of snow; some flurries that must have fallen in the nighttime cling to the highest branches of the tree. It isn’t until your feet are numb, and you can’t feel your pinky toes that you finally ask the question that’s been nagging at you for hours.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see when we get there.”

“You can just slaughter me now if you think I’m going to let you take me to that farm.”

His footsteps don’t falter behind you, but when he speaks you can hear the amusement in his voice.

“I’m not going to eat you.”

“I don’t believe you.”

The trees start to grow thicker around the two of you, the snow growing heavier on the limbs until finally, it starts to dust the ground. Your whole body is numb at this point, and whatever has been keeping you together is starting to fall apart. Your tongue is dry and fuzzy, stomach empty. You think for a second that he might be trying to walk you to death, that he might find some sort of pleasure in watching you break down as you walk.

The rough edges of a cabin peek out at you from the trees and snow. The barrel of his rifle digs into your back, pushing you towards the cabin. You stumble over your boots, nearly tripping from the weight of your pack and empty stomach. Your kidnapper herds you towards the door, pushing you out of the way to unlock it with a key tucked beneath his jacket until he can shove you inside.

Inside it’s dark and dusty; your eyes struggle to adjust to the darkness when the door finally shuts behind you, trapping you in the place with your kidnapper. A thread of fear tries to go through you at the thought of what he might be doing to you in the dark, but you’re too exhausted for your heart to beat faster.

He leaves you standing there to fumble with something in front of you. A moment later his face is illuminated by an oil lamp blazing to life. It illuminates just enough of the room that you can see a small fireplace and little couch on the opposite sides and a little kitchenette you’re standing in.

You stand awkwardly as he shuffles around the room, shrugging his pack off, lighting another oil lamp, but never dropping his rifle.

He turns towards you, gun held loosely in his hand and studies you over the top of his mask.

“What’s your name?”

#my fics #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost cod x reader #ghost #simon riley x you #cod x reader #cod mw2 #cod modern warfare #cod mwii #mw2 #ghost mw2 #cod ghost #zombie au #simon riley zombie au

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itsohh · 1 year

Text

Home

A/N: G/N reader, wanted to write something sweet about Price. This fic in no way is sexual.

Summary: After the events of MW2, John finally returns home to find you in the bath and joins you.

Word count: 1143

Warnings: nudity?

AO3 Masterlist

So incredibly tired, John practically melted into his house the second he slipped through the door. A light hum of music travelled through the house and while he was surprised by it, it wasn't an unwelcome surprise. Boots off, he rolled his shoulders as slowly he walked towards the sound. It was a telltale sign that you were home.

As he neared the bathroom, he could faintly hear your voice sing along with the door partially ajar. John didn't bother to knock, he pushed open the door slightly and leaned on the now-open door frame. The movement of the door caught your eye and you gave him a warm smile at his presence.

"Captain, your home." Your voice was a purr and your eyes examined his rather dirty and sweaty form as you turned the music off.

"Captain was left at the door, sweetheart. Got room for a second?" You pushed your lips together for a moment and broke eye contact.

"Be my guest." He picked up on this and he paused.

"It's fine if you don't, I can have a shower later." He shrugged and your eyes widened slightly. "I don't mind waiting. Just happy to see you, speaking of, why are you home?" Your eye shit for a moment and you let out a breath at his question.

Ever so slowly you moved your hidden arm. Your body had done a good job of concealing it, the cast and the plastic bag around it.

John froze at the sight. "You broke your arm?"

"Fractured actually."

"How?" There was a certain coldness behind the question. A seriousness that only came from care.

"Training accident if you believe it." You nervously laughed.

"Accident?"

"Yeah, me and one of the other boys were getting into it on the mats. Had a messy takedown, awkward angle."

"Fucking hell-" He started to hiss, that calm but pissed-off voice of his.

"John, I'm fine really. Look I'm pretty tired so would you please come in here and help me? It's kind of hard trying to keep this dry."

Immediately his eyes softened and he pushed off the doorframe. "Of course." First, his shirt fell to the ground and then came his trousers. The bath was a decently sized one. It fitted the pair of you both well. Often at times, you would share it, being in between his legs, head resting on his chest in his arms. But this time John opted to face you.

The water had risen a decent amount when he entered and slashed just a bit on the floor. John's hands found the bottom of your ankle and brought it onto his lap where he started to rub the skin, cleaning it, feeling it.

"Tell me what you need from me." His gentle voice came, his fingers on the soul of your foot, rubbing it.

"Mmm, I couldn't do my hair properly but ah, that feels pretty nice." John watched as your eyes lazily shut and sunk down slightly more into the water.

"I'm not in any hurry. Enjoy yourself, love."

"Ngh, your too good to me John."

"Not enough in my opinion." He huffed in a smile, you cracked one eye open and gave him a playful glare in response.

"Are you calling me a liar?" You pulled your foot from him and it sunk back down into the water.

"Never. Wouldn't think of it." Water swished around the tub when you finally turned, careful not to push too much onto the floor. Settled in between John's legs you sunk down and leaned against his chest. So far down, your chin almost hit the water. A small snap came from the shampoo bottle when John opened it. A moment later his callused fingers ran through your hair, needing at your head. “Mmmm.” You hummed, your head tilted back with your eyes shut.

“Keep those eyes closed.” John cupped some water and started to rinse the shampoo from your hair, careful to stop the water from running down the front of your face. “How long have they sent you home for? I presume a while since your country it’s going to be a while.”

“Three months, fractured wrist.” Your free hand went to his thigh, gently rubbing away any dirt and sweat in the water. At first, it tensed slightly but soon relaxed as he conditioned your hair. “What about you? Did you hear about Chicago?” His warm chuckle came from behind you and you turned your head slightly.

“You could say something like that.”

“Mmm, I won’t ask.” You turned back and allowed him to continue massaging your head.

“Kate got taken, had a few turn against us, Shadow Company, Shepard. Certainly was an eventful few days.”

“Shit, is Laswell alright?” your head flinched and he threaded his hands in deep to correct your head. The feeling had you unwillingly melt into him once again, letting out a small moan which turned into a groan.

“We got her back, wouldn’t be here if we hadn’t.”

“Sucks about Shepard. He was kind of a dick anyway and lacked empathy. Too…analytical for my taste.” You spoke while he washed out the conditioner.

“And I’m not?”

“You see people more than pawns John.” Slowly you started to turn around. John lift his hands away from you and allowed you to move. Now once again facing towards him, you placed a hand on his face and rubbed away the lasting dark marks. “You’re passionate and you care. It’s a couple of the reasons I fell in love with you.”

“Not just my dashing looks?” He gave you a grin that consumed the right side of his face.

“I would say that's an added bonus.” You laughed and leaned in to meet your lips against his. It was a short and quick kiss. One with both of your smiles, a sweet kiss. “Now, as much as I would love to stay in here, I’m kind of turning into a shrimp. I’m happy to get a chair and keep you company though.” You shifted backwards and started to get up. He held a hand for you to grab on to once you rose to your legs. A hand that you leaned on slightly as you got out, a hand that kept you stable when your feet met the wet tiles around the foot towel.

“You go get dressed for bed. I’ll finish up here and join you. Won’t be long.”

“You sure?” You grabbed a towel and wrapped it around your torso.

“Certain.” He nodded towards you and you leaned over the bath slightly to press a kiss against his head.

“I’ll be waiting.

#price x reader #john price #john price x reader #mw2 x reader #mw2 #cod x reader #call of duty #cod #modern warfare 2

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pintsizemama · 4 months

Text

Polar Bear Plunge

Day 26

Summary: Simon shares a tradition with you

Pairings: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x You, Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x You x Female Reader

Fandom: Call of Duty

Rating: Mature

Warnings: language, alluding to sex

Word Count: 701

Day 25 Day 27 Christmas Masterlist Main Masterlist AO3 Join my taglist

“Explain to me what we’re doing out in the freezing cold in bathing suits, Simon,” you groused. Simon had woken you up just after dawn and told you to put on your swim suit. You thought maybe he wanted to get a little frisky in the hot tub, but he’d handed you your boots and winter coat and led you out to the lake. You were away for the holiday at a romantic cottage that back up to a lake. You stood there shivering, wondering what had gotten into your boyfriend.

“I thought I’d introduce you to a holiday tradition,” he told you.

“What tradition? Freezing all our fun bits off?” You laughed shakily. You were shaking pretty hard at the moment. You loved the cold, but it didn’t love you.

“Ever heard of the Polar Bear Plunge?” Simon asked with a devilish grin.

“Yes…” you answered warily. You looked at the lake, then back at Simon. “No way! I am not jumping in that water!”

“C’mon, love,” Simon cajoled. “It’ll be fun. Then, when we’re done, we’ll take a nice hot bath and I’ll fuck your brains out in front of the fire.”

“Yeah?” You asked, liking the sound of that.

“Promise.” You chewed on your lip. You really wanted that bath and the mind blowing orgasms he would tear from your body…but you really didn’t want to jump in the water. He stepped closer and bent down to nuzzle your neck.

“How about it, hmm?” He whispered against your skin. “The cold water is great for your health, and I’ll make you feel so good after.”

“Easy for you to say,” you scowled slightly. Simon took ice bath plunges regularly.

“It’s really not that bad,” he insisted. “Plus we won’t stay in nearly as long as I do. Just a quick dip, then back to the house.”

“Just a quick one?” You murmured.

“Cross my heart,” he replied. You sighed deeply.

“Alright,” you gave in. Simon smiled huge and you both stripped off your coats and boots. Simon had the forethought to grab a few towels. He took your hand and led you to the dock. He stopped you right next to the ladder. Part of the lake was iced over, but a good chunk by the dock was open. Simon pointed to the ladder.

“You jump in, then immediately climb up and out,” he instructed. You nodded, your nerves getting the best of you. “On three. One, two, three!” You both jumped in and it felt like a thousand tiny needles hitting your skin. Your breath was literally knocked from your body it was so cold. You broke the surface and were slightly disoriented. It was so damn cold. You shook through the fog in your brain and made for the ladder. Simon was right there to guide you. He looked completely unflustered, and you once again thought he was some kind of super man. You both climbed back onto the dock and wrapped the towels around your shivering bodies. Simon helped you put your coat and boots on over the towel before donning his own.

You hurried back to the house. He pulled your boots off as soon as you were inside. Simon had prepped the fire before you went down to the lake, and he sat you in front of the roaring flames while he went to draw the bath. You threw off the coat and towel, stripped out of your swim suit and wrapped yourself in the blanket from the couch. You huddled in front of the fire, shivering almost violently.

Simon came back in a few minutes later. He smiled when he saw you wrapped up like a burrito. He was already naked, and you couldn’t help but gawk at his beauty. He was a massive man. All muscle and scars and tattoos. You shivered again, this time not from the cold.

“Keep looking at me like that, and I’ll take you in front of the fire right now,” he said heatedly.

“As g-good as that s-sounds, I’m gonna n-need that b-bath first,” you told him. Simon smiled once more and scooped you up into his arms.

“Alright, Princess, let’s warm you up.”

Day 27

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rhoorl · 4 months

Text

A Bear of a Night | Pickled Peña Writing Challenge

Summary: Javi returns home from ringing in the New Year and finds a surprise. He’s getting too old for this shit. (AO3 Link)

Rating: M

Word Count: 920

Warnings: This is honestly a pretty tame story, just some swearing and allusions to smut. Hopefully a bit funny too.

A/N: Happy 2024! I decided to take part in the Pickled Peña writing challenge. What is this? Well, it’s a way to show off the different ways writers can tackle the same character/prompt - we all have our own style and perspectives! Javi is one of my favorites to read and I never thought I would actually write for him. But, here we are. Check out @pickled-pena or search the tags to see who else is participating and what they’ve come up with. If this sounds like fun and something you want to try, feel free to post your own fic throughout the month of January!

Javier parked the car and rested his head against the headrest as his eyes cast down to the clock in his truck.

1:45 a.m.

“Fuck,” he muttered to himself. He was late and knew he was about to get the silent treatment.

Javier wasn't one for big celebrations with lots of people, always choosing to duck out of any department party as early as possible. But when several colleagues decided to spend New Year's Eve out at a bar, he thought why not? It was an early jump on his resolution for the upcoming year. It was simple really. He just wanted to try. To try and open up more. To try and let someone in. To try and be present.

And tonight, he actually found himself having some fun. The latest newbies to the department reminded him of when he first started decades ago. Young, idealistic, and ready to do some good. He tried to not let his jaded side influence them too much, but his colleagues found it amusing to mess with him nonetheless.

But the “old man” still had it and managed to pull the glances of several women at the bar, including the bartender who had practically eye fucked him all night as she poured him drinks (which she didn’t charge him for). That's part of the reason why he lost track of time. She decided to spend her break with him in a bathroom. He rang in the new year partaking in one of his favorite activities – buried deep inside a woman, making her scream his name.

Back in his car, he rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hands and sighed. He knew he was about to be read the riot act. All he wanted to do was go to sleep, already knowing he was primed for a terrible hangover come the morning, or at least later that morning.

He trudged up his driveway and unlocked the door. The TV was still on, but faint. Tossing his keys onto his entryway table, he stilled, waiting. He didn't hear anything, so he kicked off his boots and continued padding down the hallway.

“B?” He called out, walking into the living room. “Hmm, where'd you go,” he muttered to himself.

He continued through the house towards the kitchen when he felt it. His socks wet as he saw the pool at his feet.

“Goddammit,” he gritted his teeth. “Fuck, really?!”

And that's when he heard the jingle and padding of feet coming down the hall.

“Seriously?” Javier caught the eyes of his English bulldog, Bear, who walked in and sulked in the corner with an even more grumpy look than normal.

Javier adopted Bear when he was just a puppy thanks to the incessant encouragement of Steve. His former partner could hear how lonely Javier was over the phone, so he suggested a dog could help keep him company. Little did both of them know, Javier would end up with a dog who was basically him with four legs. Bear was a bit of a curmudgeon but once you cracked him, he was very affectionate and loyal.

Although initially resistant, dog ownership came naturally to Javier. Growing up on a farm, he knew how to care for animals and he had a soft spot for them. Bear forced Javier to focus and take care of something. And although he hated to admit it to Steve, he rather liked having someone to come home to. When Bear heard the jingling of Javier’s keys, he would make his way up the hallway to greet Javier before turning around and heading to his bed at the foot of the couch.

But tonight, Bear was mad. Javier stayed out later than planned so he decided to show his discontent on the linoleum floor in the kitchen.

Javier sighed as he took off his socks and walked to the sink to grab some paper towels and some odor eliminator spray. He returned and got on his hands and knees to start cleaning up. As he sprayed the floor he looked up and saw Bear, sitting on his back paws.

“Don't look at me like that. You stand there and accuse me, but where were you at the time when I asked if you wanted to go out, huh? Oh, I remember. Gnawing on a bone, couldn't be bothered.”

Bear sighed and rested his front paws on the floor, giving Javier a look.

“The puppy dog eyes? Really Bear? Por favor.” Javier rolled his eyes with a huff as he finished cleaning up.

He groaned as he braced himself to get up off the ground. The beginning of a pounding headache was starting to take root.

Even though it was the last thing he wanted to do, and it honestly made his stomach turn a bit, he pulled out a jar of pickles from the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of Old Forester Statesman Bourbon from the counter along with two shot glasses.

“I’m already going to have a hangover, what’s one more,” Javier said to himself as he poured the bourbon and drained the shot, a slight hiss as he felt the warmth in his throat. “Here’s nothing,” he shuddered as he took down the pickle juice with a grimace. As he put the shot glass he looked down at his feet to see Bear plop down and rest his head on Javier's feet.

He chuckled, the smallest smirk coming across his face. “Happy New Year to you too bud. Let's get to bed.”

A/N: There's my silly little entry in the challenge. Take a look at @pickled-pena or the tags to see other entries. I hope we get to do this again sometime, this was actually a lot of fun to do something totally different and outside of my comfort zone.

#pickled-peña #pickled-pena #pickledpeña writing challenge #javier peña fic #pickledpeña #community over competition

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laurasimonsdaughter · 5 months

Text

For someone who had, in a span of one hour, managed to do their first magical fire spell and acquire their first serious magical injury, Violet thought little Hümeyra was doing extremely well. They had even stopped sniffling, although that might be purely because the Magical Accident and Emergency waiting room was filled with so many distractions that they had forgotten about their own painful hand. Violet made a mental note to warn Hümeyra’s parents they’d probably have a lot of questions later. On how exactly one might give themselves fox ears, for instance, as the annoyed looking teenager across the room seemed to have done. Or what might cause someone’s fingers to drip drops of liquid light all over the floor, like the apologetic elderly man seated in the corner. But right now, as long as these questions would not be posed to her, she was content to let Hümeyra sneakily gawk at everything while clinging to her arm with their non-injured hand. It wasn’t too bad a burn, luckily. Violet had taken the time to make sure of that.

“Just take a seat, a specialist will be with you as soon as possible.”

“No hurry, I’m used to it.”

Violet looked up mostly because of the voice of the nurse – she was rather hoping Hümeyra could be seen to soon – but the young woman that followed the nurse in was a startling enough appearance for her to temporarily join Hümeyra in their staring. She made a rather striking appearance, but whatever had happened to her had left her with a nasty gash on the left side of her head. Instead of bleeding, however, it was streaking translucent blue down her temple, mostly sticking to her skin, but seeming to partially evaporate into pale mist at the edges. It didn’t look good. It certainly didn’t look like something anyone should be “used to”.

The woman made her way over on heavy, muddy combat boots, and let herself fall into a vacant chair. She had kept one chair empty between her and Hümeyra, but that didn’t stop them from peeking at her. It didn’t stop Violet either, but she hoped she was at least doing it more subtly than her pupil. Instead of doing the customary blank stare into empty space everyone else in the waiting room seemed to be employing, the woman turned a pair of lively, light brown eyes in their direction and gave Hümeyra a lopsided grin.

“Hi there,” she nodded, draped in the narrow chair with far too much ease. “What are you in for?”

“I set myself on fire,” Hümeyra explained helpfully, showing off the nearly perfectly round burn mark on her palm.

The woman whistled, making her eyes comically large. “You did a thorough job of that. Do you think they’ll have to take it off?”

Violet turned around in startled indignation, but before she could even open her mouth Hümeyra let out a derisive scoff:

“Of course they’re not taking my hand off.”

“No?” the woman said and for a moment that crooked grin flashed back onto her face as her eyes darted up to Violet’s for a second.

“No,” Hümeyra said decidedly. “Violet said it was going to be fine. And she knows everything.”

The brown eyes twinkled a little brighter and Violet hastily focussed all her attention on Hümeyra again. “Does she really, how come?”

Violet couldn’t quite see Hümeyra’s face, but she was well aware what sort of expression seven-year-olds treat people to when they feel they are being particularly uninformed. “She’s a teacher.”

“Really.” The woman raises her hands in complete acquiescence. “Well, then it’s her job to know, isn’t it.”

“Exactly,” Hümeyra nodded, satisfied in their victory. “And besides, your face looks much worse than my hand and you don’t seem worried they’re going to cut it off.”

“Honestly, Hümeyra!” Violet exclaimed, but the woman was snickering into the collar of her leather jacket, not in the least disturbed.

“No need, Ms Violet, no need. Your student displays astute observational and reasoning skills. You should be very proud.”

[Read the rest of Magical Accidents (3k one-shot) on AO3.]

#laura drabbles #wlw romance #nonbinary representation #I tried to make this into too big a story #but I finally fixed it and its better as a short one #this does mean I have a cute first date scene left over #but such is the way #have a lesbian meet-cute <3 #urban fantasy

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whatsnewalycat · 1 year

Text

mine.

Pairing: Brat Tamer Joel Miller x Brat Female Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY)

Word Count: 2.2k+

Summary: You act out for attention and Joel punishes you.

Warnings: no show spoilers, established relationship, non-canon compliant, post-outbreak, smut, swearing, brat "taming", D/s dynamic, dirty talk, pain kink, impact play, leather, suckin dick, deep throating, piv sex, maybe a little fluff as a treat

A/N: Today's the day I out myself as a brat, I guess. These two have established agreements and boundaries and safe words.

[ my masterlist ] [ taglist ] [ AO3 ]

Joel made a mistake bringing you with him.

He was out for two weeks with no contact. Smuggling shit in-to and out-of the QZ. When he got home yesterday, he was travel-weary. Still far away as his mind lagged behind his body, like it always seemed to on these expeditions. Your attempts to garner his attention were fruitless.

This morning when he mentioned needing to go talk to a tradesman, and you asked if you could come with, he just shrugged, “Don’t see why not.”

He should know you better by now.

You study the items put out for display at this leatherworker’s rickety stall while Joel talks to him. Your fingers graze along the length of buttery soft belts and trace the detailed engravings on a leather-bound journal. The care that was dedicated to each piece is apparent. This man is excellent at his craft.

“Stop touchin’ everything,” Joel barks at you.

You glare up at him. He stares back, his dark eyes penetrating and narrowed. A warning.

Fuck, he should really know you better by now.

Your fingers curl away from the leather goods. You slide closer to Joel and listen in on their conversation.

“Is it done yet?” he asks the leatherworker.

“Is what done yet?” you interject, smiling innocently between the two men.

“None of your business,” Joel spits, hardening his features as he searches your face. You give him a blank expression.

“It is,” the leatherworker responds, “Do you have what I need?”

Joel holds your gaze for a moment longer, then disengages to dig something out of his shirt pocket and hand it to the man.

Satisfaction smirks across your lips. You return your attention to the stall's display, rubbing a belt between your fingers.

While Joel is waiting for the tradesman to package his item, he leans over and rumbles in your ear, “Is this how we act in public?”

“What do you mean?” you feign confusion, tilting your head as you frown at him.

A low growl hums in his throat. His jaw cocks to one side and he turns back to the leatherworker.

Without waiting another second, you start off towards home. You don’t look back to see if he caught up. You don’t need to.

Each of your footsteps are echoed by his. He’s right fucking behind you, practically breathing down your neck. Anger pulses off him in hot waves that lick your heels. Through the streets, up the stairs, down the hall.

You burst through the door to your unit and throw yourself onto the couch.

Just as you suspected, he crosses the threshold only a moment later, slamming the door behind him. His presence dwarfs the room around him.

Your skin buzzes as his gaze narrows to slits and he grinds out, “Are you gonna tell me what the fuck it is you want?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you bat your eyelashes and grin.

His boots thud soft against the hardwood floor with each slow step he takes. You keep your eyes trained on his as he approaches.

“Whatever you’re actin’ up about, just ask me for what you need, Princess.”

A pop sounds from his knees when he crouches down in front of you. He brushes his calloused thumb against your bottom lip and murmurs, “I’ll do whatever you want, you just gotta ask me, baby.”

Your eyes flutter closed and you soften at the gentle touch. The hot puffs of his breath on your face. His thumb drops from your lip.

He grabs you by the jaw, fingers digging into the hollows of your cheeks, and growls, “Did I say ask? I meant beg. Beg for what you want.”

His demand electrifies you. It pulses down between your thighs.

“Don’t act like you don’t know what I want,” you retort, words all mashed up around his grip. Your eyes blink open and you meet his hardened gaze.

He shakes his head and gnashes his jaw back and forth, then mutters, “I’ve fuckin’ had it with you today,” before standing up and ordering, “Take your fuckin’ clothes off.”

His strict tone is a cracking whip.

While you scramble to your feet, Joel sits down on the couch, leaning back to let his knees spread wide. His eyes pierce straight through you as you strip off your clothes.

Shoes

Socks

Pants

Shirt

Underwear

All piled on the dusty floor. Sunlight streaks through the windows and makes your bare skin glow.

He yanks you down across his lap. When you try to resist, try to squirm away, he shoves you down, pinning your chest between his forearm and thigh. The action shoves air from your lungs in a wheeze.

“That is enough, you hear me?” he barks, smacking your ass so hard it makes you yelp, then growls, “Now sit there and take your punishment.”

Another sharp slap buzzes across your skin with a smack. You gasp. His rough palm slides across the tender skin.

“Do you think it’s funny to disrespect me like that in public?”

“Maybe,” you giggle.

Smack

The impact floods you with need. You arch your back into it and whimper.

Smack

“Why’re you actin’ like this?”

Smack

“Hmm?”

Smack

“What is it you need me to do, Princess?”

Smack

Your skin is tender and hot. Each open-palmed slap vibrates into to your center and fills you with a red, pulsing current. Pain and pleasure twist together so tight you can hardly tell the difference. Your cunt is throbbing and begging for attention.

“Oh my god, Joel—” you choke out as he slaps your ass again.

“Yeah?” he grunts.

Smack

A moan sounds from the back of your throat.

“Whadda you need, baby, hmm?”

Smack

You squeeze your thighs together, trying to catch friction, but he just pulls them apart and grinds out, “No.”

Smack-smack-smack

“Joel—”

He snaps, “What?”

“I want you to fuck me,” you whine, arching your back towards him, “I wanna cum.”

His palm smooths against your ass. It makes you flinch, but you relax when it only continues to caress you. He rumbles, “You gotta be a good girl and beg for it, remember?”

You whimper, but you don't say it.

Smack

“Please fuck me, please," you choke out.

“Get on your knees,” he responds with authority, leaning back against the couch.

You crawl off his lap and onto the floor. His belt buckle jingles as he unbuckles it and unzips his pants, “Take off my boots for me, will ya, darlin’?”

With trembling fingertips, you work to unlace one, then the other. His gaze burns your skin, although you don’t dare divert your gaze from the task at hand to confirm that he's staring at you. Each heavy boot falls to the ground with a thunk when you pull it off his foot and toss it aside.

“Socks,” he says simply.

You take them off.

“Jeans.”

He lifts his seat as you tug at each pant leg, until you yank them off with a huff. His cock is standing at attention between his spread out legs. It pulses, swollen thick and rigid with desire. Almost seems like a threat on its own.

You lick your lips and wait for him to say more.

“Look at me.”

You flick your eyes to his. They’re obsidian as they bore into you.

“You gonna show me you can be a good girl?”

You nod.

“Say it.”

“I wanna show you I can be a good girl.”

A deep hum rumbles from his throat, then he says, “Go on, then.”

You sit up and slide your hands up his thighs, further and further until you reach the thicket of curly dark hair at the base of him. He groans as you wrap your lips around him and start to rut up and down. Slow at first, taking more of his length with each bob.

His cock stretches your lips thin. The heady aroma of him fills your nose and dances at the back of your tastebuds. Saliva gathers around your mouth and douses his length, each movement getting smoother and more lubricated.

“That’s it, baby,” he breathes and runs his fingers through your hair, “Look at me.”

You meet his gaze and see his pillowy lips form an ‘O’ of approval.

“Are you through bein’ a fuckin’ nuisance?” he murmurs.

“Mhmm,” you hum around his cock, batting your eyelashes at him.

His hips buck and he hits the back of your throat, making you gag. He groans and throws his head back. Pride swells in your chest and makes your heart race.

You sit up further, climbing closer to take him deeper. Wanting more of that. Wanting to please him. Wanting to make him feel so fucking good his head spins.

“Fuck, that’s it, baby,” he husks, grabbing two fistfuls of your hair as he starts to thrust his cock down your throat with a wet, choked glug-glug-glug. He moans wantonly and his eyes flutter closed. Your eyes start to water and chest starts to heave. Spit dripping down your chin. His eyes are wild and black when he opens them and locks onto you.

He yanks you off of him by the hair and pants, “Remind me again, darlin’, what is it you need me to do?”

“Fuck me,” you gasp for breath, “Make me cum, please—”

“You know, you were misbehavin’ an awful lot today,” he tells you.

“I’ll be good, I promise,” you appeal, fingers twitching as you try to keep good on your word, as you resist the urge to touch him or yourself, “Please, Joel.”

He hums, then stands to his feet. Your eyes follow him as he walks around you, over to the brown paper bag he tossed on the floor in a rage when he stormed through the door. He takes his sweet fucking time plucking it off the ground, glancing up at you to make sure you’re still behaving.

And, you are, really.

But your whole body is pulsing and it’s getting really fucking hard to contain. You want the release. You want the sweet swell of ecstasy to consume you and make you forget about this fucked up place for just a moment. You want the validation. You want to be shown that you’re worth the trouble and toil.

But mostly, you want him.

You want Joel to make you feel loved and secure, like he always does. You want him to give his undivided attention, his doting affection, all to you.

The brown paper crinkles as he unravels the trinket crafted by the leathermaker’s expert hands.

And you gasp.

It’s a black leather strap, notches worked through its middle, adorned with a shiny silver buckle on one end.

“For me?” you search his face as he approaches you.

Joel furrows his brow and narrows his eyes, as if to ask who the fuck else would it be for?

You watch him return to his seat on the couch and he pats his thigh, “Come on up here, sweetheart.”

Without hesitation, you obey. Your body settles against him, his throbbing cock pinned between your heat and his belly. He fastens the collar around your neck as you unbutton his shirt.

He hooks a finger under the collar and tugs on it, leading your lips to his. The kiss melts you from the inside out. It’s tender and heartfelt, even as he drives his cock inside you with ferocity.

You gasp against his mouth. He grips your collar tight and digs his fingers into your hip. You rake your hands through his waves of graying hair and whimper.

Each relentless thrust, each eager kiss, each little huff of his breath against your skin, each pinch of the soft leather strap around your neck, all of it drips gooey and hot down your spine and gathers at your center.

“Is this what you wanted, Princess? What you made such a big fuss about?” he pants, snapping his hips up into you, “Hmm?”

“Yes,” choke out as your vision fills with stars, “Holy fuck, yes—”

“You gonna ask nice next time?”

“Mhmm,” you hum and nod frantically, “I’ll be your good girl, Joel, I promise.”

He purrs in satisfaction, “That’s right, you’re gonna be my good girl.”

You moan and work your hips against his, chasing the aching, tingling, divine pleasure that’s mounting at your core.

“Tell me I’m yours,” you plead, pressing your sweaty foreheads together.

“You’re mine,” he rasps, voice and hips growing frenzied, “You’re mine, all mine, baby—”

“Joel, I’m gonna fucking cum,” you breathe shattered breaths as ecstasy starts to override you, “Don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop—”

He groans and pulls the collar tighter, so tight you can barely squeeze whimpers past the restraint. The tingling, molten center of you swells to a crescendo and swallows you whole.

Your body trembles as overwhelming bliss washes over you. You convulse around Joel and he steals the choked sob from your lips. He pulls out and spills hot cum between your bodies with a guttural moan.

The two of you lay there a while, chests heaving in unison, melting together into a puddle of contentment. You rest your cheek against his thudding heart as he strokes your hair.

The world outside is filled with horrors, manmade and naturally derived. But in moments like this? When it’s just you and him, your hearts beating in time? When there’s proof, tangible and pure, that you’ve both lived through everything to be here with each other?

It’s not so bad.

Joel tips your chin up to look up at him.

You meet his thoughtful brown eyes with a hazy smile as he brushes his thumb against your cheek and whispers:

“Mine.”

#joel miller #joel miller the last of us #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller tlou #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character #whatsnewalycat writes

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deancaspinefest · 3 months

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A Fairy Tale Cliche!

Author: butterflyslinky | Artist: CoyDahlia

Posting on Monday March 18

True Love was never in the cards for Castiel. He is, after all, a Changeling raised by Cave Trolls, raised in the Court of Storms, where tender emotions are not encouraged. True Love was also never in the cards for Dean. They may be under a curse that can only be broken by True Love's Kiss, but nymphs don't tend to settle for one person for life. Too bad none of their friends will listen to that logic.

Keep reading for a sneak preview!

Castiel did the only thing he could think of and extended his hand. “Would you care to dance with me?”

The nymph stared for a moment. “Are you going to declare your love and ask me to run away with you?”

“No,” Castiel said. “I’m going to dance with you until you don’t want me to.”

“Well.” The nymph put their hand in his. “Guess I can do that.”

Castiel smiled and led the nymph onto the floor. As though by magic…okay, probably by magic…the orchestra started at once and Castiel swept the nymph into a gentle waltz, grateful to Sam and his lessons. He was still clumsy in boots and he didn’t want to step on the nymph’s inadequate shoes.

“You’re a Changeling, right?” the nymph asked after a minute.

“I am.”

“Great. Wanna give me the lowdown on that?”

Castiel didn’t know why, but he found himself spilling his entire story to the nymph, more than he’d told anyone, even Sam. The nymph listened in silence, watching him from behind their mask, and they seemed to relax the longer Castiel spoke.

“So here I am,” Castiel finished quite a bit later. “It’s been a bit of a journey.”

“You’ve barely even started,” the nymph said. “Training with Jo is step zero…you don’t even have your Quest yet.”

“I thought finding my One True Love so I can stay in Avalon was my Quest.”

The nymph laughed. “Please. Like it would be that easy. You can’t really know someone is your True Love until you’ve faced major adversity together. You know, kiss a frog, turn into a swan, what have you. And that’s assuming True Love even exists for you and not just random lust or infatuation.”

“Do you not believe in True Love?”

“Sorry, sweetheart,” they said. “But I don’t go around sharing my story with everyone I meet.”

Castiel slowed slightly. “Just tell me,” he said. “Do you have a True Love you should be dancing with?”

The nymph softened. “Nah,” they said. “Don’t have time for that crap. Though you’re offending an awful lot of people by dancing with me.”

Cas glanced around again. There were indeed quite a few people watching them, and many of them looked pretty unhappy. “Were they on your dance card?” he asked.

“Nope,” the nymph said. “But they feel entitled to me anyway.” They grinned at Cas. “So if you want to take up all my time, I can stay until midnight.”

“If you want me to,” Castiel said. “But I’d like to know what to call you if we’re going to spend the next four and a half hours together.”

“Dean,” the nymph said. “You can call me Dean.”

(continue reading on Ao3 on Monday March 18)

#destiel #deancas #destiel fic #deancas fic #destiel art #deancas art #pinefest 2024 #pinefest previews #2024 Dean/Cas Pinefest #author: butterflyslinky #artist: CoyDahlia #Fantasy AU #Nymph!Dean #Human Castiel

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skyward-floored · 7 months

Text

Whumptober Day 14: Water inhalation, “Just hold on”

This was originally a three sentence fic I did a few months ago, this is the extended version XD Kudos to you if you remember it!

Read on ao3

Warnings: the title stuff, some peril, not too much specifically. Slightly uncertain ending, but it could easily turn out fine.

————————————————————

Why couldn’t walking through portals ever be easy? Twilight sighed to himself, looking at his surroundings.

He and Sky had landed on a tiny rock in the middle of what looked like an ocean, rough waves battering their single spot of land. It was cold too, and windy, and to add to it, a thick, wet drizzle was falling on their heads.

Overall, a rather miserable place.

Sky stood next to him and was toeing the edge of the rock as he looked around, brows lowered as he surveyed their situation. A larger wave suddenly crashed up against the sides of their tiny rock, and Twilight stepped back, wiping rain and sea spray off of his face.

“Well this is a pleasant spot,” Sky said dryly, holding his sailcloth above his head. “You think this is the sailor’s world?”

“It doesn’t seem quite right,” Twilight replied as he squinted at the horizon. Cold rain hindered his vision, but he could still see reasonably far. “He rarely gets weather like this, and it’s not really warm enough to be his... and besides, I think I see the mainland that way.”

Sky turned to look, and Twilight pointed at the dark line in the distance, barely visible through the cold drizzle falling on their heads.

“...I’ll take your word for it,” Sky said as he raised a hand up to shield his eyes. “I don’t suppose you think a ship will come along and rescue us then?”

A large wave crashed into the rock at his words, and he and Twilight both stepped back as the water rushed onto the stone and swirled around their boots.

“...Not before the tide comes in,” Twilight replied grimly, beginning to fish around in his pack for his Zora armor. “I think we’re going to have to swim for it.”

Sky looked out at the choppy water. “I was afraid you’d say that.”

Twilight quickly shucked off his normal tunic and slid on the Zora gear, fastening the hat and the covering over his mouth that allowed him to breathe underwater. By the time he was finished the water was repeatedly washing over his feet, and he looked over at Sky, watching him thoughtfully rub what looked like a bright blue scale on a necklace.

“...You don’t have any swimming gear?” Twilight asked, and Sky shrugged.

“Not exactly. This helps me swim a bit faster and hold my breath longer though. It’ll be plenty to get me to land.”

Twilight frowned. “Will you be warm enough?”

His own Zora armor was great in cold waters, the scales and mostly skin-tight clothes working together to keep the wearer warm. It wasn’t enough in truly glacial temperatures, but would be plenty warm enough for this swim.

Sky’s dragon scale though...

Sky gave him a smile, and tucked his sailcloth into his pouch. “I guess we’ll find out.”

Twilight frowned, but nodded, and once Sky had finished securing the gear he wanted safe, they both jumped into the choppy seas.

Both were strong swimmers, even without their swimming gear, but it was a challenge to stay on course in the waves that tossed them up and down, and the rain that got in their faces. Waves kept washing over Twilight’s face, and it made it even more difficult to see where he was going.

He frequently checked on Sky swimming beside him, his head bobbing up and down out of the water. The Skyloftian seemed like he was doing fine though, and when he caught Twilight looking, shot him a smile.

“Nice weather we’re having, huh?” he asked over the crash of the waves, and Twilight snorted, shaking his head.

“Yeah, maybe if you’re a duck.”

Sky’s face scrunched up in confusion. “...What’s a duck?”

Twilight let out a breathless chuckle, starting to feel a bit winded from talking and fighting the waves at the same time. “A water bird. It’s... you know what, I’ll explain later.”

Sky nodded, and they continued on through the water, the land in the distance slowly growing larger as they swam.

The more time that went by though, the more Twilight started to worry about their pace. He hadn’t accounted for the fact that they would have to fight against the waves the entire time, and was starting to wonder if they would have enough energy to get to shore. He was getting tired, and they weren’t even halfway at his guess.

Well if we really have to, we can both breathe underwater, he thought with a frown, looking over at Sky. For a little while at least. We may end up having to walk the last bit there.

Sky was beginning to slow down as well, and Twilight watched as he spluttered, a wave getting him in the mouth. Twilight swam a bit closer to see if he was okay, and paused in surprise at how pale he looked.

“Sky?” he asked worriedly, and the knight looked over at him as they crested a wave.

“I’m good,” Sky assured, giving him a smile. It was smaller than his others had been though, and his voice seemed strained.

And while Twilight couldn’t tell very easily because of how the waves were rocking them both, he almost thought Sky might be shivering a bit.

“Sky, how cold are you?” he asked suddenly, and Sky blinked at him.

“I don’t know, chilly? Moving is k-keeping me pretty warm, but the water is cold... Why?”

Twilight swallowed, and turned back towards the shore. “Just checking. If... if you get too cold, tell me, alright?”

Sky blinked slowly. “Yeah, sure.”

They kept swimming, Twilight staying closer to Sky’s side than before. He himself was feeling a little chilly, but Sky must be freezing in his soaked clothes, even with the constant swimming they were doing.

He looked over at him again, and realized Sky had fallen behind, his movements slower and expression pinched. Damp hair hung in his face from ocean water and rain alike, and as he swiped it out of the way, Twilight could see his lips were beginning to turn blue.

Twilight quickly moved back to his side, and could see him visibly shivering now, his swimming strokes paused as he rubbed his arms.

“Sky?” he asked.

“I can make it,” Sky murmured, barely moving out of the way of a wave. “Just... just need a quick break. Can we just... float for a minute?”

Twilight bit his lip. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. This water is really cold, the sooner we get out the better.”

The sooner you get out the better.

Sky closed his eyes, but he reopened them and nodded, then resumed his swimming.

Twilight followed after, keeping Sky right at his side. His strokes were so slow they were barely moving against the waves, his teeth chattering, and Twilight soon put Sky’s arm over his shoulder so he could pull him along. Sky barely fought him, and soon gave up, letting Twilight mostly support him as they swam.

“Come on Sky, we’re almost there,” Twilight breathed, looking at the land that was slowly gaining more and more details. “Almost there.”

Sky hummed something in response, but the words seemed to rejuvenate him a little, and he attempted to actually swim more. Twilight felt himself start to shiver as they went along, and Sky’s lips turned more and more blue the longer they were in the water.

Maybe we should’ve waited to see if the weather cleared, he thought a little dazedly, thinking back to their tiny rock. We’d still be cold, but at least we wouldn’t be in the water...

Sky abruptly slipped out of his hold and sank below the waves.

“Sky!” Twilight gasped, and immediately ducked underwater, ignoring his burning muscles and swimming frantically for where Sky was quickly sinking. The water wasn’t as rough down here, and Twilight was able to move much easier, making him soon catch up to Sky.

The Skyloftian’s eyes were half-lidded as Twilight grabbed him, and he only weakly kicked his legs as Twilight dragged him to the surface, muscles screaming in protest.

He surfaced with an involuntary breath, and held Sky up, the other boy shivering violently in his arms as he coughed up the water he’d inhaled.

“Sky, hold on please,” Twilight breathed, clutching at him so he wouldn’t sink again. “Just hold on. We’re almost there.”

Sky managed only a shivering cough.

Twilight swam firmly towards land now, ignoring his muscles begging for a break, and the little voice in his head that was more convinced than ever that they couldn’t make it.

We can. We can make it.

Twilight winced as another wave of cold water went over his head, immensely grateful for his Zora armor. He was rapidly growing colder and tired, but he was warmer than poor Sky, and the flippers were helping him go much faster than he would be otherwise.

He just wished Sky had some armor too.

“Hold on Sky,” Twilight shivered out, again, feeling him only weakly try to help them along. “Hold on.”

Sky didn’t reply.

Twilight’s world narrowed to only holding up Sky, and to not stop moving, no matter how big the waves were that pushed him, no matter how exhausted he felt. He knew if he stopped now it would be almost impossible to get himself moving again, and so he kept going.

Time began to blur, Twilight uncertain of how long he’d been going. An hour? Two?

Had they been swimming all day?

It felt like it.

A larger wave nearly tore Sky out of his arms, and Twilight gripped him tighter, unable to stop it from pushing them harshly forward. They tumbled around a little, and Twilight struggled to keep them both up, kicking his legs despite how exhausted they felt.

Then his foot brushed something solid.

Twilight blinked, and when it happened again, he looked around and realized they were right on the shore, a small beach only a few yards away.

Sky began coughing, his head having gone under again, and Twilight tugged him up, letting the waves push them forward. They were moving with them now, and all Twilight had to do was occasionally adjust their course, and hold on to Sky.

Who was so exhausted and cold he kept forgetting to hold his breath whenever his head dipped under.

Twilight gritted his teeth and heaved Sky further out of the water, paddling determinedly forward. They were almost there, he just had to make it.

Hold on hold on hold on...

Twilight’s feet finally hit solid ground, and he nearly collapsed, falling onto the pebbly beach. Sky slumped down next to him, still faintly shivering, and Twilight allowed himself only a few moments of rest before he crawled over and shook Sky.

“Hey, Sky,” he said, and Sky let out a weak cough, water trickling from his blue lips.

“H-h-here?” Sky croaked, and Twilight nodded, tiredly scanning the small beach for somewhere they could get out of the rain.

There were some larger rocks farther up that looked like they’d provide some shelter, and Twilight exhaled, then forced himself up, slinging Sky’s arm around his shoulder again.

“Yeah. We made it. C’mon.”

Twilight forced his tired legs to start marching, pulling Sky along with him. Sky was barely holding up his own weight, shivering and stumbling, but Twilight steered him up the small hill, and into what looked like the driest cave.

And once he was sure it was safe, Twilight lowered Sky to the ground, and then fell down next to him.

Twilight spent a moment just breathing, and listening to Sky breathe as well, though his were thick and croaking. He didn’t think Sky had inhaled much water, but then again...

“Sky? You okay?” he asked, and Sky hummed, his eyes closed.

“Mm...”

Twilight frowned, and reached into his pouch with fumbling fingers, taking out his lantern. He quickly lit it and set it as close as possible to them both, the light and warmth making him feel a little calmer. He had enough oil to last a while— hopefully it would be enough to warm them both up.

Then he turned to Sky, and tapped him on the arm.

“Come on Sky, we’ve got to get warm,” Twilight said with a shiver, and Sky looked at him blearily. “You can wear one of my tunics, but you need to get out of your wet things.”

“‘M not that cold,” Sky protested in a mumble, but he didn’t argue when Twilight began to help him pull off his soaking tunic, and settle him into Twilight’s own.

It took some doing, but they both eventually got themselves into dry clothes, and Sky’s head fell onto Twilight’s shoulder, an exhausted cough escaping him. Twilight looked over at him, his face still pale, skin cold to the touch, and he moved his wolf pelt so it was more over both of their shoulders.

“Thanks,” Sky said tiredly, and Twilight nodded, pressing himself a little tighter against his side.

“No problem. We’ve got to warm up somehow, right?” he said with a tired smile.

“Meant for th’ swimming,” Sky continued, coughing again as he shook his head. “Wouldn’t have made it... ‘f you weren’t there. Sorry... couldn’t swim myself.”

“It’s alright,” Twilight replied softly. “Don’t worry about it.”

Sky hummed quietly in response, and it was quiet between the two for a while.

The rain increased outside their shelter, pattering against the rocks around them, the sound making Twilight feel drowsy. He was utterly exhausted, but he knew he should stay awake. Sky was still coughing on and off, and his skin had barely warmed at all, which meant it was important that he not sleep.

As he had the thought, Sky’s head slipped a little further down on his shoulder, and Twilight looked over at him, frowning at the sleepy look on his face.

“Don’t sleep yet, you’re too cold,” Twilight warned him, and Sky’s eyes slipped closed as he hummed in acknowledgment. “Hey, Sky I mean it, we were in that water way too long, don’t sleep yet.”

“‘Kay, ‘kay...” Sky grumbled, opening his eyes.

His eyes still drooped though, and Twilight gave him a light shake, meeting his eyes.

“Here, I haven’t told you about ducks yet, right?” he asked, and Sky’s face twitched into a light smile. “You have to stay awake for that, Sky.”

“You said they were birds?” Sky murmured, and Twilight nodded, leaning his head back against the rock wall.

“Yeah. I don’t see them too often, but Wild has a lot in his era. They come in a bunch of colors, and swim across the top of the water in groups, and they make this funny noise...”

Twilight spent a long time telling Sky about the birds, prompting a response from him when he went quiet for a particularly long stretch. Both of their voices grew fainter the longer Twilight talked, and soon enough he couldn’t think of anything else to say.

Soon neither of them could fight their exhaustion any longer, and Sky slumped next to him, Twilight’s own eyes slipping closed, despite how hard he fought to keep them open.

They’d held on as long as they could.

And as Twilight drifted off, all he could do was hope it had been long enough.

#linkeduniverse #linked universe #lu twilight #lu Sky #linked universe fanfic #whumptober 2023 #whumptober #fic #day 14 #just hold on #water inhalation #writing from the floor #if you read this on ao3 an hour ago I sliiiightly edited the ending #it’s the same basically I just made it smoother it was bothering me

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thebest-medicine · 6 months

Text

Day 20: Relentless

Tickletober 2023 - Critical Role - Campaign 2 Mighty Nein - lee!Mollymauk

[see my other tickletober 2023 fics]

A/N: Caleb catches up to molly after the events of day 4: weak spot

[read on AO3]

Words: 4.5k

—

“Mollymauk.” Caleb’s voice calls out within the tower, an unusual hint of mischief to it. “Sooner or later I will find you.”

Molly ducks behind the door of Jester’s room, a giddy smile on his face. He slumps against the door on the inside, takes a deep breath — well, he tries to. His heart is still racing from running, and the giddy flutter in his stomach isn’t helping anything. He can feel the pleasurable ache of the smile wide on his face, no use in fighting it. His tail waggles back and forth anxiously as he fights down nervous giggles in his best attempt to stay quiet.

A minute or so goes by, and Molly nearly has his breathing back to an easy pace. He listens closely near the door.

When boots land on the floor of what sounds like the very hallway outside this room, Molly feels the butterflies in his stomach take off and flutter about. He sucks in a deep breath and tries his best to quietly scramble quietly toward the bed - or something, anything to try to hide behind.

The doorknob jingles. Mollymauk can hear Caleb snort out a little laugh on the other side, amused, no doubt, that Molly’d bothered to lock the door. A whoosh of a spell and flutter of amber light makes quick work of the obstruction, and Jester’s door swings open.

Molly’s half crouched, backed against the foot of the bed. He flinches, less graceful than usual, shuffling his way up to standing. “Ah, Caaa-leb,” he tries to sound casual, “what brings you to this neck of the– no aha no no wait! Wait!”

He scrambles up onto the bed and his voice raises by an octave or more when Caleb doesn’t say anything in reply, but instead starts into the room - with a determined and satisfied look on his face - directly toward Molly. He doesn’t even bother to close the door. There’s a smirk on the edge of his lips, and Molly notes briefly that it looks quite cute on him - but right now it also feels rather dangerous.

Caleb gets to the bed within a few strides, as Molly scurries backwards, stumbling over the sheets.

Caleb reaches out and takes Molly’s ankle in his hand. It’s firm, grounding.

“Oh no, you are not going anywhere - I owe you, for all your many, endless hours of tricks and teasing.”

Molly lets out a little anticipatory laugh, and he can’t help but smirk, eyes flicking to meet Caleb’s. “And- heh- and all the tickling?”

Caleb’s cheeks flush a bit despite his best efforts. But quickly, he schools his features, narrows his eyes. “Ja, yes, and all the tickling.” He breaks eye contact, looking down to squint at Molly’s foot; he takes a toe between his fingers with the free hand.

“H-Hey!” Molly snickers and wiggles his toes.

Caleb scribbles the fingers of one hand up his sole and Molly giggles.

“But not here. No.” He gives a little tug on the ankle he’s captured, scooting Molly toward him. Molly raises his eyebrows when Caleb barely manages to move him more than a few inches, and then he snorts out a little laugh at the wizard’s expense.

Caleb huffs. “Hmm- don’t worry, Schatz, I’ll give you plenty to laugh about.” He reaches up then and places the free hand on Molly’s waist.

Molly, who is giddy and nervous and sparkling with energy, wiggles a bit in response. He squeezes at Molly’s waist and brings the other hand up to squeeze his hips and tug him closer, then Caleb clambers his way all the way up on the bed, a leg swinging over Molly’s thighs to keep him in place.

Molly makes a face up at Caleb, looks up and down at the position he’s now in straddling Molly’s thighs, and winks. He tries to ignore how his stomach is swirling and fluttering with Caleb over top of him like this. He tries, “Oh? Bold of you, Widogast. I’m flattered, but-”

Molly is cut off when a finger presses to his lips. He makes an indignant sound against it. Molly could probably push him off, scurry away, put a stop to this without much effort at all, but… well… he is curious about this side of the wizard.

He wasn’t ever really opposed to being on the receiving end of tickling, but the thought of Caleb focusing on the newly discovered, horrible hotspot that was his tail sent shivers down his spine. Then, his attention shifts to the tingling, tickly sensation at his middle as Caleb pinches the sides of his hips, then he starts tracing fingers in a slow path toward his lower back.

“Mmm- aha- wait, wait- no no, not there-” Molly squeals.

“Hm. Not where? Not there? I suppose you can give me a good reason?...”

Molly makes a frustrated noise through his laughter. “I- heh, aha that’s just- mehean! No no don’t- Caleb!” He gasps when Caleb’s fingers squirm under his back all the way. “You- you can dish out whatever else you want- eeEE HEHE- I’ll- I’ll be good-” Molly’s rolling side to side on his back, trying his best to protect the most sensitive areas as precise fingers work their way under him and toward his back and tail. “Aha haha and, and I’ll- I’ll give you a break for a few days-” Molly grasps weakly at Caleb’s elbows looking up with pleading eyes, “a- a week? I-”

Without a word, Caleb scribbles at the base of his tail and Molly pitches forward suddenly with an extra hard laugh turned yell, smacking into Caleb’s chest before curling up into him, fists tightening around the material of his shirt.

“Eheheh- y-you’re going to kill mehehehe.” He whines into Caleb’s shirt.

“Hmm. No.” Caleb flattens a palm fully on Molly’s back, speaking low and sternly. “And you’re certainly not making any convincing points to deter me, Mollymauk.” He strokes one finger on his other hand gently down the first stretch of tail near his back, now exposed to the air.

Molly shivers and buries his giggling face into Caleb’s chest, muffling his laughter into it.

“And when you do things like this…” Caleb grins and pulls him back until he can force some eye contact.

Molly blinks up at him with a giddy, nervous smile.

Caleb lets his grin tilt up a bit into a satisfied smirk, then scribbles a few times at the first few inches of Molly’s tail. Molly cackles, keening forward again and nearly tumbling somehow both closer into Caleb and nearly out of his grasp at the same time. “I can see how you get carried away so easily, and so often.”

Caleb takes the tail in a firmer grasp, not tickling for a moment, but Molly knows he’s far from finished. He smoothes a thumb over the lavender skin and feels Molly’s form quiver and shift [shiver and quiff] at each light touch. Another approach then, if bargaining doesn’t seem to be working. “Ehehe- that’s- ha that’s true- hehe yohohohou’re downright ahahaadorable whehehehen yo-you’re out of your- ahaha your gourd with giggles!” Molly teases, cheeky through his growing laughter.

“Mm.” Caleb charms back. “Something we have in common, perhaps.”

Electric tingles shoot up Molly’s spine as the wizard’s fingers start tickling along his spine with one hand, and down his tail with the other. They hook directly into his nervous system, and he can’t see Caleb’s face anymore, pressed to his shoulder and chest as he is, but he can hear - feel really - the light rumble of laughter. Molly imagines, briefly, the smug little smile that might still be on Caleb’s face. He kind of wants to look but… Well, he’s a little preoccupied.

When Caleb lightens his touch on a pass of the tail, he feels Molly tremble and go a little weaker in his arms. His laughter isn’t as frantic, either. Caleb hums curiously. “I don’t think you would mind too much at all if I stayed right here, hm?”

He was right, of course. Mollymauk liquifies further into his arms as Caleb traces delicate, ticklish, blossoming zings of sensation along the stretch of lavender tail.

The tickling stops briefly, and Caleb gathers the melting, giggling tiefling further into his lap. With one hand he draws him in close and loops his arm around Molly’s back. “Now, now. I’m getting distracted. Where was that spot again?” His fingers scritch lightly against the fabric of Molly’s cropped shirt, teasing at his ribs underneath. “Hm? Not here either.”

Mollymauk whines through his giggles and tries to bury his face in Caleb’s chest for the— he’s actually not sure how many times he’s done that in the past 5 minutes.

Caleb tickles down the sides of Molly’s ribs, light and teasing, before pinching at his hips and squeezing his thighs a few times. Molly snickers and gasps and curls ever closer.

“I appreciate the cooperative spirit.” Caleb chimes, voice still light. “Though I am not sure how you will fare when I do find that spot again, where was it, here?” Caleb worms one finger under Molly’s arm and tickles there. Molly snorts into his shirt and continues giggling.

They play this game a little while longer, Molly giddy and twitchy and worked up from the ever shifting tickles, and the promise of worse to come.

“Oh, wait, I remember now where it was my friend…” He takes the length of Molly’s tail in one hand, peeling it away from the minor safety of where it’s pressed against his back. In response it begins to curl and twist like a snake in death throes.

Mollymauk squeaks out a helpless little whine as Caleb runs his fingers down the length of his tail again. It tickles. It makes him shiver. It feels really, really fucking good. It makes his breath hitch. It makes his bones melt. It makes his brain blank out for a moment. Instead of figuring out a proper response to the sensation, Molly decides the best course of action is to melt again, and just crumples further into Caleb, laughing against his chest.

“The end is the really bad spot, hmm? Is it worse the closer I move down your tail?” Caleb smiles at him, teasing but genuinely curious. Molly, though, doesn’t notice as he’s got his face buried and his eyes slammed shut. But, he can hear the damn grin on the wizard’s face. And yeah, he probably- okay- definitely deserves every bit of this. But still-

Caleb’s fingers do just as he said and begin to scamper further along the length of the tail, trailing down in scratches and pinches and wiggles. Molly makes a high, desperate noise in between laughs and flicks his tail as much as he can.

“Hmm. Hold still.” Caleb tsks at him.

“I- hehehe- I can’t- Aha heh-”

Caleb sighs, lamenting. “Ah, I know I’m not known for my strength but…” He trails off, peeling the wobbly ball of Molly away from his chest. “I think it would be more efficient…” Caleb’s eyes lock onto Molly’s, bright and teasing. “If I could really use both hands, focus a bit better..”

Molly shakes his head, cackling out desperate laughs as Caleb rearranges and then pushes him forward onto the bed, face down. He hears a few arcane words being spoken behind him when he tries to start clawing his way forward a bit. But, it’s already far too late- Caleb’s spell takes hold with ease, a little bondage - well, trap spell - and also useful for getting revenge on a group of people hellbent on making you giggle for your life on the regular spell. Molly feels the familiar coil of warm magic around his wrists and ankles, and another along the end of his tail. He feels it pull his arms and legs outstretched on the bed, tail down between his legs near his ankles. He buries his face in the sheets. “Noooooo-” He giggles into the mattress, helpless. “That’s chehe- cheating.”

Caleb lets out a little laugh. “You are one to talk.”

He brings his hands down onto the small of Molly’s back, splaying his fingers wide. He feels the shiver and the little hic in Molly’s chest beneath his palms as his hands stretch out. He takes his time, drawing patterns and runes and glyphs and nonsensical shapes all around Molly’s lower back.

“No- heh nonono ahh hahaa heh ahaha wahahait-” Molly makes all sorts of wild sounds into the mattress, cackling and giggling and squeaking with laughter. The light touches are practically unbearable. He feels like crawling out of his skin. It’s terrible. It’s wonderful. He can’t stand it- well, he can, and he will- there’s not much else he can do right now but take it. But, well, he’s still going to whine and complain (even if he’s having fun). “Gods- Caleb!” Molly shouts against the bed through his laughter. “Ahahaha- s-somewhere else! Something else! Plehehehehease!”

Caleb hums in acknowledgement. “I will consider it. What do I get in return?”

“I hehe- I won’t kill you ahahahaafter this.” Molly growls cheekily, defiant.

Caleb laughs. “I see, by something else you meant something worse.” There’s a light pressure as Caleb’s skimming, sliding fingertips glide to a stop.

“NO-”

His hands press down fully against his back again, and when the next things out of Caleb’s mouth are not in Common, but something more arcane, Molly stiffens.

“Nonononono ha- ahaha not that! BAHAHA NOHOHOT THAT!” He cries when swirls of light, tingling, warm energy flutter from beneath Caleb’s palms and fingertips to brush along the nerves, dancing beneath his skin. Molly’s arms and legs struggle uselessly in their hold, hands and feet slapping against the bed.

Caleb picks up one hand to just a fingertip, then drags it, and the swirly, tickly magic, in a path down over Molly’s ass to where it curves into his upper thigh. “Hee HAHAHahaha- NO hehe I- I can’t-” Tingles dance and tickle along his back and the back of his leg, and Molly screams into the mattress between laughs.

“You know, I wonder how this might feel.”

Caleb draws back the finger that’s now made its way down to the back of his knee, ticklish tingles emanating in each direction from it. Then, Molly feels it again, right near the base of the spade of his tail. The other hand is still tracing ticklishly along his lower back, and ripples of energy pulse out from there as well. He wails into the bed, feeling a slight dampness near his eyes. He can’t even move his tail properly, let alone the rest of himself. Caleb’s hands are just tracing delicately, not even tickling all that much on their own. It’s- it’s just the fucking tingling, unbearably squirmy feeling of his fucking (wonderful) magic, buzzing just under his skin. He tries screaming some more into the bed to see if it helps relieve any of the ticklish energy building up in his nerves. It doesn’t. Fuck this spell in particular. Fucking cheating wizards.

“Any thoughts? Notes?” Caleb smirks as he draws his hands away from the skin, letting the tingling, magical tickle fade away.

Molly makes a disgruntled, keening cry into the mattress. His chest heaves as he tries to stop laughing and catch his breath.

“Nothing? Shall I keep going?”

“No wait- wait, I-I just need- ehehe a second-” Molly giggles into the bed, pleading. “Just a- a-”

“How about I give you ten? Hmm? Ten.”

Molly’s eyes shoot open as his squirming starts up with a renewed vigor. “No- please!”

“Nine.”

“Nohohoho-”

“Eight.”

Molly wails and wriggles his tail where it’s bound magically behind him.

“Seven.”

This stupid fucking kinky wizard bondage spell lasts for an hour. He’s not as keen of mind, but Molly’s fairly certain it’s not been more than 10 minutes since Caleb started his (well deserved) revenge fuckery…

“Six.”

“I-I hate you so much.”

“Five. No you don’t.”

Mollymauk grumbles something into the sheets.

“Four.”

“Yes I do.” Molly shoots back, always the right amount of bratty to make things just a little worse for himself.

“Three. Why are you lying to me, do you think that’s wise?”

“I’m not!”

“Two. Hmm, well, I happen to know you don’t hate me. Just like I know you don’t hate this one bit.”

“Oh fuck you!” Molly squeals.

“One.”

Caleb scritches over the spade of Molly’s tail and the arch of Molly’s foot. The tingling magical sensation from before still emanating from each place pale skin touched lavender skin.

A beat of silence goes by, Molly’s body tending every muscle, before he’s screaming in laughter into the bed.

“You’d better quiet down, or you might attract some help - not for you, natürlich.”

Molly’s laugh is loud, desperate, starting to go hoarse. He sounds like he’s trying to say something between his unending bouts of laughter - argue, beg, curse - but he isn’t doing a very good job of it.

Molly’s laughter turns to near silent wheezes as his eyes spill over with tears onto the bedspread. One of the last thoughts he registers consciously in his brain is how he simply must wind the wizard up like this again some time.

Caleb eases up, drawing back his evil, evil hands once again. He traces one finger ticklishly down along Molly’s spine before fully pulling away, taking the tingly magic fully away.

Molly sucks in a breath, coughs a bit into the bed. Caleb goes to rub his back with one hand, and he flinches for a moment before realizing the wizard’s tickle magic has gone and melting into the bed.

He manages a few deep breaths before he hears a familiar giggling voice in his head.

“Oh my gosh, Molly was that you? You just screamed so loud I bet everybody in the tower could hear you! You sound like Caleb!”

“Shit.” He says out loud, deflating with a laugh.

Caleb knits his eyebrows, taking in Molly, before he’s interrupted by the sweet sound of Jester’s laugh down the hall.

“Shit. Shitshitshitshit.” Molly starts squirming again with a renewed vigor. “Oh shit. No- no! Fuck.”

Caleb laughs at his expense, whispering to Molly with a grin. “Ohh. Ja, I’m very familiar with that feeling.” He scratches a little at the backs of Molly’s ribs, earning a snort into the bed.

A few seconds later, Jester bounds into the room with a look of mischievous glee. “Sooooooooooooo. What are you guys up to?” She prances over to the bed. Jester grins at Caleb and crawls her way onto the bed on Molly’s other side. She’s laying on her stomach, chin in her hands, kicking her feet as though they’re school age and playing a juicy game of truth or dare.

Caleb gives her a smug smile back.

Molly turns his head to hit her with his best pleading eyes. He sucks in a few nervous breaths. “T-Tiefling solidarity?” Molly tries with a tear-blurred blink up at Jester.

“‘Tiefling solidarity’ that’s why I’m going to help.” Her grin widens and takes on a little evil glint. She reaches out to pinch a line down Molly’s side, armpit to hip.

Molly starts hiccuping out little laughs right away. She moves up and down his side slow and methodical, tending to the skin with a sensitive but precise hand. Caleb’s tracing lightly over his back and shoulder blades. And Molly is starting to forget everything except for how much this is starting to really tickle- and they hadn’t really even started yet.. “Nohohoho- no ehehevil- not- not fair- ehehe t-two on one- ha eeehehe.”

Caleb snorts in what sounds like disbelief. He leans down to catch Molly’s eye. “Are you being serious?” - He is reminded of the many times Molly (but sometimes Jester, or Beau.. or Veth) had gotten practically everyone else involved in trying to absolutely wreck Caleb. - “I should call every other person in this tower over here right now just because you said that.”

“Oh!” Jester chirps. “I can call them!”

Molly whimpers between giggles. “No- no no hehehe please- no I- h heh eeeeee he hehe I’m sorry-”

“Sorry for what?” Caleb asks, clearly amused, gliding his fingers up to press gently under Molly’s arms, barely twitching.

“For… hee ehehe-” A little spark of mischief flares up in his chest. “For how bahahad I’m g-going to hahahave to get you both bahaAHAHACK FOR THIHIHIS- SHIHIHIT AHAHAHA NO!” Molly starts cackling wildly again as Caleb starts tickling at the first sign of snark.

“Hmm. Seems he will need quite a bit more- he’s never this.. mouthy by the time Yasha’s done with him.” Caleb relays to Jester.

She’s snickering proudly and trying to catch peeks of Molly’s giggling face. His arms strain against the magical restraints - they’re comfortable along his wrists and ankles. His legs and tail wiggle as much as possible (not much).

Unfortunately, unbeknownst to him, this seems to catch Jester’s eye. He gasps when he feels Jester sit over his knees, facing his feet and- and the tip of his tail. Oh Mother of fuck.

Caleb starts drawing arcane shapes and symbols (or perhaps it is truly incomprehensible nonsense— Molly’s not in a place to pay attention to the details) all along Molly’s back. His shoulder blades, his neck, his spine, around the sides of his ribs and torso, and maddeningly low on his back. Nowhere is spared. Caleb also, of course, keenly picks up on each spot that produces an interesting reaction (there are many).

Caleb’s hands are making a pass back up from his lower back when Molly feels Jester’s fingers curl against his toes. He snorts through his already desperate, wild laughter. “OH NOHOHOHO- AHAHA!”

“Hey Mol-ly, do you know which one of your toes is the most ticklish?”

“Nohohoho!” He cries.

“Well.. I think we should find out.”

Molly whimpers again between cackles, trying to squirm side to side for any relief from the electric sensation. His toes scrunch, but Jester’s quick, and she’s already in there. It doesn’t help much.

She doesn’t start her little experiment right away, instead opting to scratch her nails lightly underneath his toes as much as she can. Caleb’s still hard at work taking him apart inch by inch on his back. Molly feels like he’s about to start seeing stars or hearing colors.

Jester makes a frustrated sound before the tickling lets up a moment on his feet. Then, Caleb’s own electric touch seems to fade, distracted by not quite gone. Molly gladly takes the moment to breathe. He hears them murmuring something.

“—so you need to make some little adjustments to your spell okay! For next time!” Jester is happily whispering, her tone almost scolding. “How am I supposed to work with this?”

Caleb lets out half a laugh. “Okay, let me see if I can help.”

Then, Molly’s wheezing as he feels the weight of Caleb lift off of his back. “Wait- hehe wait- what are you doing?” He manages.

“I think you’ve earned yourself one of Jester’s lovely pedicures.”

Molly whines into the sheets, balling his fists and trying again to curl his toes. No such luck. He feels Caleb’s hands move under his ankles to down to where his toes are pressed frantically into the bed. Precise, practiced fingers pull back on his toes. Molly fights it a bit, with a strangled little growl of frustration.

Then, the tingling, tickly magic from before is radiating from the tops of Molly’s toes, every spot Caleb is touching him. “NOO- hehe HAHAHA NOT FAIR!”

Jester makes a delighted little sound and starts tickling just under the stem of his big toe, resuming her little game. “Which one tickles more? This one or this one?” She asks more than once alongside other probing questions. All the while, Molly wails and cackles into the bed. He tries to answer, sometimes. When he doesn’t, it just earns him more sparks of ticklish magic flooding his system through his feet.

A short while later, Jester is confident she has found the best possible location and technique to get Molly screaming into the bed. She wears a proud grin as she starts tickling along the rest of his soles.

Molly’s on autopilot, laughing and giggling and squirming where he’s held.

Until, that is, he feels Widogast release his toes. Then a single finger brushes over the skin of his tail, just at the end. Molly yelps. His begging starts up anew. When Caleb’s little tickling magic sparks through the nerve endings there a moment later. Molly shrieks, screaming wildly into the bed until he loses his voice.

They don’t keep it up for too long — Molly’s crying and babbling and hoarse with laughter, and they don’t want to actually kill him.

Caleb runs a hand down the length of Molly’s tail, gently tickling. Jester shifts her weight off of Molly’s legs and allows Caleb to run the hand up his spine, then up to his neck, around to cup his chin. Molly purrs into it unabashedly. “Mmmrrrrr- you’re meheehehean-” Molly pouts delightly. “Next time I’m- I’m gonna find out… which of your ribs is the most ticklish…” He mumbles out as he pants for breath. The flickering, magical, grounding restraints on his extremities suddenly fade — not that it changes much. Molly just melts into the bed.

A hum. “Yes, yes, you’re very intimidating right now.” Caleb smirks down at him. He arranges himself toward the top of the bed and guides Molly’s head in his lap and begins to run fingers through his hair, trace along and massage his horns.

“I’ll remember tha- Mmmpf-hmmm.” Molly mumbles bonelessly as Jester crawls up to cuddle into his side.

Caleb pets and attends to him like a lovely, silly cat. Molly rubs into the contact unabashedly, shifting himself so he’s laying more on his back and side.

Once Molly’s breathing seems to have returned to normal, Caleb speaks up again. “That wasn’t too bad, hmm?” He asks, calm, but a hint of nervous energy in his voice.

Checking in. Of course he didn’t want to push Molly too far (a hard task to accomplish anyway). Molly’s heart swells at the thought. But before he can think to answer—

“No way! He totally had so much fun- right Molly?” Jester exclaims, interrupting before Molly can think about how to answer. “Look how melty he is.” She squeezes around him in a tight, cuddling hug. “And I mean, come on, he tried to hide in my room.” She snorts. “I think he got exactly what he wanted.”

Molly’s cheeks warm at her answer. “Y- hehe yeah- yeah, rub it in some more, why don’t you- heh- rrrrrr mmmmph-” Molly starts to answer but it morphs into a purr as Caleb rubs at the base of his skull. He has to do this again some time, Molly thinks. He could scheme and ponder when he woke up, though.

Mollymauk drifts off slowly, glowing, gooey and tethered to the material plane by all the points of contact with his beloved companions.

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1987vampire · 1 year

Text

a hazy dream | Brian Thomas

Fandom: Creepypasta / Marble hornets Word Count: 2.5k Warnings: sleep sex, reader is trans!male but it's only mentioned like one time when Brian calls you pretty boy. Fem body parts. smut frfr. just sm sweet smut A/N: Set in the poly!proxies universe like always. I posted this on my AO3 a few days ago and forgot to put it on here, too. You have full permission to crucify me. Cashapp: $Orpheus89 if ur feelin a lil brazy Extra:

Brian was practically exhausted by the time he came home, boots just barely dragging against the floor as he climbed up the multiple flights of stairs, his normally silent walk just barely heard by the other residents. His regular yellow hoodie was stained brown in some spots, dried blood and mud caked on the fabric. The same could be said for his jeans, and unfortunately for his gun, too. The fuckers had put up more of a fight than expected.

It was mostly silent in their portion of the house, but still, he found himself doing check-ins on the others. Sally was curled up in her princess-themed bed, ratty doll pressed against her chest as she snored more like a grown man than a child. Toby had his laptop blaring some YouTube videos he didn’t recognize nor care to, but the boy was dead to the world as well despite how loud it was. Tim, surprisingly, was also with Toby, body half-curled around him from behind, face pressed into Toby’s band t-shirt and hand half-holding onto a crochet hook, the yarn trailing off to a mess on the floor, another blanket, maybe?

That only left one. Brian kicked open the final door, the shared bedroom between him and Tim, and there you were. He felt himself physically deflate at the sight of you. You were fast asleep in one of his shirts, a faded-out band tee from when he was in college, your fist wrapped around the fabric like you had been clutching it to your chest. Your legs were exposed, bottom half only covered by a pair of red lace panties, a pair Tim had bought for you, if he remembered correctly, and god, did you look good enough to eat right now, and eat he just might. You shifted in your sleep like you somehow realized he was there, a predator in the night, but prey just for you – just for the group y’all had made.

You pressed your face further into one of their pillows, hips shifting so even more of you was on display, the curve of your ass, the fat of your stomach, the moonlight shifting through the windows making you seem almost angelic, like you weren’t also a killer just like them. He took a step forward, ready for the kill, but then he paused again, a shuddering breath crawling out of his chest and escaping before he could catch it. Oh, how he loved you. Oh, how it was even easier to realize when you were soft like this, when you were out for the taking, unaware of the danger, unaware of the love he had for you.

He took another step, this time stopping to kick off his muddy boots, pushing them aside so he wouldn’t trip on them later. Then came his pants, his boxers sweaty but free from the debris of the day. His hoodie and shirt were off in one fluid motion once his holsters were unbuckled. At least he was smart enough to click on his safety before chucking his gun away.

You were still so oblivious, nose twitching but otherwise unaware. When he finally made it to the bed, it was almost like a reward, dirty, tainted hands pressing against soft skin, still clean, still pure. He let his hand crawl up the expanse of your leg, calloused palm against your ankle, up your calf, up your thigh, finding purchase on your hip. He sighed, leaning down, pressing his mouth to your ankle and following the same pattern with his mouth. You shifted at that, a soft grunt escaping you followed by a sigh and you pressed more into the bed and more into his hold at the same time.

He lifted again, hand still on your hip, and then the other gently pushed you until you were on your back. You shuffled and then stilled, and Brian’s heart was full, as full as it could be for such a man. He pressed his free hand to your cheek, caressing, a soft smile taking over his face as you nuzzled into his hold. “So, so pretty,” he whispered, following it with a press of his lips to your forehead.

You moved at that, as his hand on your hip began to stroke your thigh, and he pressed another kiss to your cheek this time. You let out a soft groan, blinking past bleary vision at the man above you. “Mmm, Brian?” Your voice was still thick with sleep, confusion laced on top of it.

“Hey, pretty boy,” Brian murmured, watching with fond eyes as you nuzzled into his hand again, hips shifting slightly as the stimulation began to hit you.

You reached a hand up, pawing at his bare back, not sure what you wanted but sure that you wanted the touch at least. “You’re back?”

“Yeah, I’m back.” He made a tutting noise as you tried to push yourself up, leading you so you were laid back down again. “Missed you.”

You were clearly still half out of it, blinking up at him slowly, brain not comprehending what was in front of you. “Missed you too, baby.” He smiled again, this time leaning down to press a kiss to your lips, one that you reciprocated as much as you could. He yawned after, mouth opening wide like a lion, sharp canines on display. You tugged at him then, hand on his back pulling him just the slightest bit forward. “C’mere. You need to sleep.”

“Maybe in a second,” he replied, thumbs dipping into the bottom of your panties. You could feel the fire inside you spark, a shiver running down your spine at the implication. “You okay with this,” he questioned as he moved a bit closer to the space you were already internally begging him to get to.

You let out an affirmation, following it with another yawn, letting yourself turn to putty in his hands. He continued to just let his hands run over you, silent devotion in the silence of the room. The rain was picking up. He turned to see the window just barely cracked, small dribbles of the rain trailing down the wall as it gathered on the sill and spilled over. It made everything seem even hazier, your head dazed from sleep and his touch, and you were in bliss. He was right behind you, letting his shoulders drop, Hoodie almost pushing to take over control as he relaxed, but he wanted this, wanted this moment with you, wanted to hear his name fall from your lips, his rough hands on soft skin, him and you fully. As much as he loved the other boys, and he loved sharing you and Tim, it was rare to have moments like these anymore.

You sighed, letting your eyes fall half-closed, his touch lulling you almost into sleep, even as it felt like your skin was lit with flames everywhere he touched. He abandoned your thighs in favor of pushing your shirt up, watching as the cold air sent your skin prickling with goosebumps. You shivered, and he couldn’t help the soft shush he let out in response. “You’ll be warmer, soon, don’t worry, baby,” he whispered. It felt impossible to be any louder at the moment, like it would ruin everything, break the spell that had settled over the room. “I just wanna see you.” Hands pressing against now exposed skin, his breathing growing heavier, the heat in both his boxers and your panties seemed almost unbearable, but he continued to ignore it, instead leaning down and capturing one of your nipples in his mouth, pride filling his chest at the way you keened, arching into his touch.

“Brian,” you whimpered.

“I know, baby, I know.” He settled on just letting your shirt rest pushed up to your collarbones instead of taking it all the way off, hands already moving to dip into your panties, pulling them down. You shuffled just enough to help him pull them all the way off. He tossed them without a care, glancing over as they landed on his discarded hoodie, bright red on muddied yellow. He moved, settling between your thighs instead, kneeling and ready to worship. Fingers pressed to where you so desperately needed him, almost immediately finding your clit, letting out a delighted sound at the feeling of how wet you already were. Fuck, you were practically coating your thighs with the slick substance. He settled a slow rhythm, circling the bud, so slow that it made you want to whine out again, not enough to push you to the edge, only enough to have you clenching around nothing, getting wetter and wetter with anticipation and need.

“Aren’t you just the prettiest little thing?” You hadn’t realized that Brian had leaned down until his face was almost against your heat, you could feel his breath fanning against your soaked skin, and you finally cried out, shifting your hips, inviting him closer. He chuckled and relented, leaning forward slowly, and before you could help yourself, you were practically screaming, fisting at the sheets as Brian ate you out like a man starved. Earlier hesitations were gone with a flick of his tongue and a suck of his lips. You wanted to sob at the immediate overstimulation, the teasing that switched in an instant.

No words fell from your lips, just a confusing stutter of syllables and cries, especially as he moved to stuff two fingers inside of you, your body giving no resistance from how slick you were. His mouth wrapped around your clit, and his fingers pumped in and out of you at a steady pace, and then suddenly, you were cumming, and you were cumming hard. One of your hands fisted into his hair, the other tight in the sheets, and you were seeing stars. The orgasm came in slow waves, each bit of it drawn out with a slow movement of his fingers inside of you, a slight curl to press against your sweet spot during the final moments. You let a tear slip at that finally, slumping back into the mattress.

Brian lifted himself back up, the stupidest grin on his face, proud. Then, his mouth was on yours again, back to the slow, passionate, needy taste all over again. He pressed forward, tongue and teeth added to the mix, and you were on cloud nine, half out of it as you pulled at him, gripping his arm with all the meager strength you could muster. “I’m going to fuck you now,” he murmured as he finally pushed down his boxers, erection springing free, red and leaking and aching. He felt like he might die if he wasn’t able to finally press into the wet heat you so lovingly offered. You groaned, low in the back of your throat, more pleading than you meant for it to be. You shifted your hips, inviting him closer; he was quick to take the offer. He ran the head of his cock over your entrance, collecting the slick, and then he was pushing in, and you were seeing stars again, both of you moaning as he pressed in until he was fully inside in one fluid motion. He panted above you, pulling out the slightest bit before rocking back in. Your lips were parted, eyes closed as you let yourself fully enjoy the feeling. You didn’t think you would ever get used to this.

His hands found your hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh. “I love you so much,” he whispered as he pulled out until he was almost gone and then pressed back in, slow and devotional. You tried to find a response, tried to force words past your hung open lips, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to, instead pressing a hand to his chest and tapping your fingers three times against him – just like Hoodie had done for you. I love you.

He sighed, setting a slow and steady rhythm, and he leaned down, pressing his mouth to anything he could reach, your chest, your shoulders, your arms, your cheek, until finally he pressed his mouth to yours again. You were holding him so tight, like you were afraid he would let go, that your hazy mind had been making this all up, like you weren’t sure someone like him could be so real. You wanted to cry again, and you did, a few tears slipping past as you tapped him three times again, pausing and doing it again and again, and the words were falling out of his mouth in tandem.

“I love you. I love you. I love you.”

He breathed you in, pressed his lips to your open throat, marking you with teeth and tongue. If he could, he would devour you whole, mark you until everyone that ever saw you knew who you belonged to. No, no belong wasn’t the correct word. You never belonged to them, you and he were parts of a whole, the five of you fit together like missing pieces, making something that seemed unreal at times. You had given yourself willingly, and so had they, fell from one day to the next, ready for anything with arms wide open as long as the others were right there. And they always were.

You finally spoke, the words cracked and pushed through a sob. “I’m gonna cum,” you cried out, hold finally tightening on him, like you were ripped from the fog you were in as you felt the cords of pleasure tightening until they were almost painful, desire wrapping you in its loving hold.

“Cum for me, baby,” he purred out. “Let me feel you.”

And you did, back arching and mouth parting as you practically screamed, fat tears rolling down your cheeks before you could even think to try and stop them. You moaned, sobbing right after as he pushed you through your orgasm, himself quick to follow as your walls fluttered around him. He groaned, rocking into you slowly, letting the both of you come down slowly, dragging out the ecstasy as long as he could. You whined, the sound taut in the back of your throat, and he shushed you, peppering your face with kisses, especially over the tears.

“You did so good,” he cooed, exhaustion finally settling into his bones. “So good, darlin’. Like you were made for me.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead then, sighing as he pulled out. You whined again at the loss, but he silenced it with a kiss to your lips before sitting back. “I’ll be right back. Let me go grab something to clean us up.”

Your hand shot forward, gripping his arm tighter than you had all night, eyes flying open. “Don’t leave me.”

“I won’t be gone for more than a second, baby.” Still, you whimpered, and he felt his heart drop. “Do you want to come with me, or do you want to just clean up in the morning.”

“Morning. In the morning.”

And how could he ever deny you when you begged like that. He sighed and nodded, letting you pull him down onto the bed with you, your body curling around him instantly. “You know I’m gross right now,” he mumbled half-heartedly, his eyes already drooping closed.

“Don’t care,” you grumbled back. “Love you.”

“I love you too, y/n. More than you’d ever know.”

#Brian thomas x reader #brian thomas smut #hoody x reader #hoody smut #brian thomas #marble hornets #creepypasta #creepypasta smut #creepypasta x reader #marble hornets smut #marble hornets x reader

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