#at least at the beginning they both JUST want to hook up | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

officialaemondtargaryen · 5 months ago

Text

Dinner & Diatribes

❝i knew it from the first look of mischief in your eye.❞

Summary: You both swiped right and suddenly you're standing in a stranger's kitchen while he makes you spaghetti.

Pairing: Modern Aegon Targaryen x Reader

Word Count: 5.2k

Author’s Note: this might be the most self-indulgent fic i've ever written, so fair warning. also, thank you tom, who inspired this by saying that dinner & diatribes would be aegon's hozier song. it's just true. anyways, this was really fun to write.

Warnings: language, recreational drug use, alcohol use, fluff, intense sexual situations (including: oral sex - female receiving, sexual intercourse - p in v), just two single people who are horny, more fluff, aegon being so cute that i couldn't stop smiling the whole time i was writing this.

It was precisely 9:39 PM on a Tuesday.

You were sitting cross-legged on your couch, nose deep in a fresh murder mystery that you had been working through for the last two days. There was a lit joint between your fingers that you were nursing, taking little hits so that it wouldn’t completely burn out, and on the cushion next to you, your phone softly vibrates and lights up; a familiar icon flashes across the screen and you can easily make out the words, “It’s a Match” from the corner of your eye.

It’d been a regular occurrence since you had downloaded that accursed app.

You’d been single for far too long, according to your best friend, though you hadn’t really noticed. The sweet silence of a solitary life was something that you had enjoyed for the most part. It wasn’t even like your online dating life had really taken off, either. You’d get matches but hardly anyone would reach out in any way that made you feel like they were serious. They wanted your Snapchat username, or they were in an ‘open’ relationship or asking for a threesome, and one guy even asked if you would send him pictures of your feet. Even some of the ones you thought were serious about taking you out- or even just hooking up- would end up ghosting you before anything actually happened.

“It’s not supposed to be serious,” you could hear your friend’s words rattling around in your brain. You shake your head and focus once again on your book; they have a suspect, it’s the best friend! How fitting.

Once again, your phone lights up and vibrates. Not wanting to be distracted from the plot, you ignore your new match and get back to your mystery with anticipation; the best friend is about to confess. You go to take another hit of your joint and frown upon realizing it’s burnt out. As you move to grab your lighter, in comes another message, and another, and another. You stop what you’re doing and pick up your phone, swiping at the screen until you find the culprit. He’s known only as Aegon T, and according to the one sentence he has written on his profile, he has a dog. You swipe through his pictures- the dog is a golden retriever, the man looks like a golden retriever.

In the message thread, he’s basically talking to himself.

There’s four new messages waiting for you, while three little dots begin flashing at the bottom of the screen; disappearing and reappearing as you read what he’s already sent.

“So, I’m high.”

“And I am making spaghetti… and it’s really good.”

“At least I hope it’s really good, it could just be the weed…”

“I could use a taste-tester, if you’re up for it? I can’t pay you or anything, but it’s honest work 😏”

Aegon begins typing again and you watch the screen, a smirk on your lips. You are 99% sure that the spaghetti is truly an innuendo for what he really wants and have half a heart to just block him, but you watch as those little gray dots continue in the bottom left corner of the screen; he’s going back and forth with himself and you can’t help but find it oddly cute. Your fingers hover over the keyboard as you contemplate a witty response, but before you can even begin typing, he sends a fifth message.

“That was weird as fuck, right?”

Then a sixth.

“You probably don’t want to come over to some random guy’s house on a Tuesday.”

He finishes up with a seventh message.

“Unless you do…”

He almost sends an apology. After all, what's another message? He’s already fucked this whole thing up; not even giving himself a chance before he nose-dived. If he was being honest, he should just go ahead and delete his whole account; save you from secondhand embarrassment and save himself from repeating the same mistake again in the future. He sets the phone down on the kitchen counter and goes back to ripping bong hits to calm his nerves. Though, he’s unable to keep himself from checking his phone for a response; a response that likely wasn’t going to come and he’d spend the rest of his night feeling like a complete idiot.

Seven back-to-back messages should have screamed ‘red flag’, but you’re glancing at the clock as if you were seriously contemplating taking this stranger up on his offer. After all, you do have needs just as much as the next person. But, you’re wearing a sweatshirt and a pair of pajama shorts, your hair’s a mess, and you were covered in the crumbs of your munchie snacks. Meaning, you were nowhere close to being prepared for what was sure to happen between you and this random stoner offering you dinner.

Yet, you respond to him, “I could never turn down spaghetti”.

Aegon’s stirring the sauce when he gets your message. He’s instantly elated, thrusting a celebratory fist into the air. His fingers fly across the keyboard swiftly, sending another quick message, “Atta girl 🙃 My place is on the corner of 9th and 51st, above Jasper’s.”

“Be there soon,” you reply with haste.

It was apartment #4 and you made sure to text your friend the address, and given name of your potential murderer, and also share your location for her to keep an eye out. She says all you have to do is text her at any time if you need her to call and bail you out with a fake emergency. All she asks in return is for you to have fun and let her know if you are planning on spending the night- which was an idea that you weren’t opposed to, but it wasn’t something you were planning on.

You’re nervous as you stand outside of the door to his apartment, fist hovering for a moment. Now’s the time to make a fast exit- you haven’t met him, you could turn around right now and never meet him. You could wake up alive in the morning, safe in your own bed. Or, you can knock on the door and have what might be a really nice spaghetti dinner with a really nice guy. Hell, he could even be the love of your life and in fifty years you’ll both look back on this day and laugh about how you met on Tinder and how you were stupid enough to go to his house and not a public place.

Finally, you knock.

Aegon puts the lid back on his spaghetti sauce and shuffles into the living room. Sunfyre is on the couch with his ears perked; his tail’s wagging and he’s panting eagerly, waiting patiently to meet this new visitor. Aegon whispers over to him, “wish me luck,” and thinks to himself, please don’t be a catfish, please don’t be a catfish, please don’t be a catfish. He peers through the peephole when he approaches the door and there you are, a sigh of relief deflates his chest.

“Oh, thank God,” you can hear him say as the door swings open. His accent is surprisingly British. “You’re real.”

The very first thing that you notice are his eyes. They’re piercing; somehow blue and lavender at the same time– the color of a warm, summer sunrise and they’re crinkling at the edges as he smiles. He’s wearing a pair of dark gray sweats and a pale green hoodie, and the only word that comes to mind when you look at him is warmth. He’s somehow more attractive in person than he is in the pictures on his profile, which you didn’t think was possible, but he’s standing right in front of you and you can’t help but think to yourself, he doesn’t look like a murderer.

Then again, neither did Ted Bundy.

Aegon stands there for a moment, just staring at you, unable to do anything else. His words escape him, he can barely even breathe. You look exactly the same as your pictures; even without the makeup and even in the shitty, fluorescent overhead lights of the hallway. Even in a sweatshirt and pajama shorts, you’re stunning. He’s having a hard time believing that you actually showed up and he doesn’t realize that he’s been staring for much too long until you shrug back at him.

“Did you think I wasn’t?” You ask with creased brows and a lopsided smile.

The corners of his lips pull upwards as he looks at you, “I don’t know. You’re just so beautiful, I’m still not entirely convinced you aren’t some sort of hologram… or a robot.”

“Wow, you’re pretty smooth,” you say with a playful smirk, desperately trying to keep your composure— trying to play it cool, hoping that he hasn’t caught on to the fact that you’re secretly spiraling, because it took all of one smile and one compliment and you were done for. “But, I’ll have you know that flattery won’t work on me. I’m here for the spaghetti and the spaghetti alone.”

“My apologies,” Aegon says with a chuckle as he holds his hands up defensively. “Right this way, then.”

He steps to the side, allowing you to enter his apartment, and shuts the door behind you. It’s nice, clean, smells like fresh baked bread and tomato sauce. There’s niche artwork adorning the walls, he’s got candles burning, and there’s some lowkey, downtempo R&B playing softly in the background. He quickly moves past you and disappears into the kitchen, leaving you to follow him.

However, before you can take all of two steps into his apartment, a flash of golden fur is suddenly at your hip, pawing for attention. You drop down to a knee and happily accept any and all kisses from the pup. “Oh! Hi, what’s your name?”

Aegon sticks his head around the corner and says, “That is Sunfyre. In case you were wonderin’, he’s a very good judge of character and I will be consultin’ with him later where you’re concerned, fair warning.”

You roll your eyes and scratch behind Sunfyre’s ears, his tail thumps in approval.

“Would you like something to drink?” He continues and disappears back into the kitchen. “I’ve got wine and bottled water. Oh, and milk?” There’s a rustling in the kitchen before Aegon adds with a nervous chuckle, “scratch that, there is no milk.”

You politely excuse yourself from Sunfyre and step into the small dining room off of the kitchen.

There’s a grin on your lips, which you pursed so that he doesn’t think you’re laughing at him. Sunfyre joins the two of you and circles around his owner’s legs as Aegon empties an almost full half-gallon of milk down the drain. His kitchen is small but looks to be well used, which you appreciate. You know almost nothing about this man, other than his name- if ‘Aegon’ was even his real name- and the name of his dog, and yet here you were, standing in the threshold of his kitchen with a strange sense of comfortability as if you had been lifelong pals.

“Water is fine,” you tell him.

He produces a bottle of water from his fridge and tosses it over to you with ease and goes back to the stove. You step further into the kitchen, taking in your surroundings. The kitchen, like the living room, is covered in artwork and vintage decor- things you’d only find in some obscure thrift store or estate sale. On the refrigerator are a collection of magnets from different cities and countries, real touristy type shit. Some of them even had names on them; Alexander, Aaron, Alistair, Alan, Adolf.

Maybe these are the names of people he’s killed.

“You travel a lot?” You ask, trying to keep the conversation going.

“I try to,” he says from over his shoulder as he continues to stir the sauce. You can hear him set the lid back on the pot. “Most of those are from my sister, Helaena. She thinks it’s hilarious to give me magnets with random ‘A’ names since you’ll never find the name Aegon on any of those,” he says from behind you. He’s leaning against the counter with a half glass of wine. You quirk an eyebrow at him, not fully convinced. “She has a few from me that say Helen.”

“Is that her?” You ask, finger pointing to a pretty blonde in one of the many photographs he had pinned up.

He nods and takes a step closer to you. He’s so close that you can feel his warmth, smell his aftershave. The proximity causes you to blush and he smirks in response, leaning over your shoulder as he points to the other people in the pictures. “Those two are my little brothers, Aemond and Daeron,” he claims and then points to two women. “That’s my half-sister, Rhae, and next to her is my mother.”

“The redhead?” You ask surprised, given she didn’t look like she could be old enough to have four grown children. He nods and takes a step back, leaning against the counter with half-lidded eyes and a tipsy blush. “She looks like she could be your sister,” you say softly, turning back to glance at all of the faces; he seemed proud of his family, like they were very close.

You turn away from the fridge and lean against the counter at his side. It’s quiet for a moment, save for the music and the sound of boiling water where the noodles were cooking. You look at him and the corners of your lips can’t help but twist up into a shy smile, but you bite at the inside of your cheek out of nervous habit. He props himself up on his elbows, taking a sip of his wine, clearly comfortable with the silence.

“So,” you look up at him and his little smirk grows. “About the job…”

“Ah, yes,” he nods. “As I stated earlier, I won’t be able to pay you a monetary wage, but the position does come with a benefits package.”

“And what exactly would this benefits package include?” There’s an innocent flirtatiousness in your voice that only adds to the tension.

“Outside of the free gourmet meals that I would be providin’ to ya, which is obviously the most important part,” he smiles and steps to the side to grab a spoon from the drawer and holds it out to you. Your fingers softly close around his as you pluck the utensil from his grasp. He clears his throat to distract from the fact that he was visibly flustered from the slight touch. “There’s also unlimited cuddle sessions,” before he can finish, you shoot him a look. “With Sunfyre, of course! He’s the real boss ‘round here, after all.”

“Cuddling with the boss?” You quirk an eyebrow and look down at the golden retriever, his eyes round and gleaming; clearly waiting for a hand-out. “Sounds like a conflict of interest to me.”

“Well, if it’s a conflict of interest you’re worried about,” he counters quickly with a soft yet playful tone. “I s’pose we could renegotiate the terms of the agreement and you could have me instead.”

“I’m listening.”

“He might be better at cuddling for obvious reasons and he might be better lookin’,” Aegon continues. “But, I give better backrubs. I mean, I have thumbs and he don’t. You can’t give decent backrubs without thumbs, can you? Plus, he’s a sloppy kisser.”

“Oh, you’re really trying to sweeten the deal now, huh? Backrubs and kisses? I must admit, that is quite a compelling offer,” you muse. “It seems my decision hinders on whether or not you can actually cook, wouldn’t want to accept the position blindly, now would I?”

“Are ya doubtin’ my skills?” He asked playfully.

“No offense, but you possess the aura of someone who could fuck up a can of Spaghettios,” you tell him with a sincere smile. “So, forgive me if I don't get my hopes up.”

Aegon laughs and it’s a warm and infectious sound that fills the kitchen. It’s genuine, as is his perfect smile. You can’t seem to keep yourself from staring; eyes softly tracing every detail of his face– from his full, pink pout, to the scar above his right eyebrow, and the dimple of his chin– thinking to yourself that you’ve never seen a man more beautiful. His smile turns back into a smirk as he notices you staring at his lips and you look up to meet his eyes. There’s something about the way he looks at you that leaves you feeling vulnerable. His gaze softens as you look away, turning your attention back to the spaghetti sauce on the stove in front of you to distract yourself from the blush creeping up your neck.

There’s only one way this night ends.

It was obvious before you even left your house and it was certainly obvious now.

“Go on, then,” he prods, motioning to the pot on the stovetop.

His eyes are wide with anticipation as you dip into the simmering sauce, stirring it a few times before bringing the spoon to your lips. He’s nervous; it’s his mother’s recipe– one he’s spent years perfecting– but with his luck, you will most likely think it’s steaming garbage. Yet, he watches intently; holding his breath as your perfect lips curl to blow softly, cooling the sauce before you finally taste it.

The moment the spoon touches your tongue, you're determined to remain impartial. After all, you’ve had your fair share of disappointing meals from men who’ve claimed to be great cooks. Aegon certainly could be the very latest and you wouldn’t be at all surprised. So, you keep your expectations low, and try your hardest to remain stoic, but as the flavors begin to unfold, you can feel your resolve wavering.

It’s good. Better than most.

Reluctantly, you have to admit that this is the second-best sauce you’ve ever had, right after your grandmother’s. You glance up at Aegon, who’s watching you with a mix of anxiety and hope, and you can’t help but smile.

“I have to give it to you,” you say, your voice betraying a hint of admiration. “This is incredible. Almost as good as my grandmother’s.”

The relief and pride that spread across his face makes your heart flutter.

“Yeah?” He asks with a toothy grin.

“I’m still not completely convinced that you can actually cook, but you can– at the very least– make some top-notch spaghetti sauce,” you tell him as you place your spoon to the side.

“Top-notch, eh?” He asks playfully as he begins plating your meal. “I’ll take it.”

“Don’t let it get to your head,” you say to him with a laugh. “It’s just spaghetti sauce.”

“Just spaghetti sauce? Don’t let my mum hear you say that,�� he says with a smirk, setting a full plate in front of you on the counter. “I guess I’ll just have to work extra hard on the next one.”

“Assuming there will be a next one,” you reply, tone dripping with playful sarcasm. “Though, you have set the bar pretty high tonight. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“Well,” he murmurs as he steps closer, his body brushing against yours as he reaches around you to grab a plate. His lips are hovering above the shell of your ear, his voice low and teasing, causing your cheeks to immediately flush as the heat between the two of you intensifies. “I’m nothing if not a perfectionist.”

For a split second you expect for him to lean in for a kiss. Your heart is simultaneously skipping beats and racing at the same time; your breath catching in your throat as he leans in— But then he smirks, grabbing the plate and taking a step backwards. He’s doing it on purpose, you realize; his proximity expertly calculated to keep you on edge. You look up at him with wide, sparkling eyes and he knows he’s got you right where he wants you. The soft blush of your cheeks has his blood pumping and sends a surge of adrenaline through him. He’s trying his absolute best to play it cool but the way you’re biting your lip and looking at him has him unraveling.

“Is that so?” You ask, raising an eyebrow. “What other skills do you have up your sleeve?”

His grin widens as he looks down at you, setting his empty plate to the side. His gaze, once again, drops to your lips. “I have a few tricks,” he says softly, his voice filled with promise. “But I doubt you’d believe me if I told you, so how about I just show you?”

“What?” You ask with a playful innocence. “Before dinner?”

“I’m not really in the mood for spaghetti anymore.”

“Oh?” Your smirk is only growing. “What are you in the mood for?”

Aegon says nothing, but a confident grin tugs at the corners of his lips as he rests his hands on your hips. He doesn’t hesitate to pull you in by the waist, until you’re pressed against him and his lips are on yours. The kiss is both gentle and urgent and a little bit awkward, as any first kiss should be. You felt like a teenager again, kissing a boy for the first time– butterflies in your stomach and all.

It takes no time at all for you to find your rhythm with him, and he deepens the kiss, pushing you up onto the kitchen counter to meet his height. Your arms naturally drape across his shoulders, your legs wrap around his middle. He’s completely taken over your mind, filling up every tiny space that he can fit into; the smell of his cologne, the scratch of his stubble against your skin, the feeling of his hands squeezing the flesh of your thighs– his fingertips teasing just underneath the hem of your shorts.

Breathless, he pulls away from you as he pulls your sweatshirt over your head. He stops for a moment to take in the sight of you; clad only in your bra and shorts, lips red and blotchy, swollen and full. You’re looking up at him from under your lashes, softly biting your bottom lip as you wait for him to continue. He gently lifts his hand up to your cheek and traces the curve of your cupid’s bow with his thumb, providing one last show of tenderness before he leans in to capture your lips in another searing kiss.

His touch is suddenly rushed; spreading a wildfire across your skin in the wake of his lips as he rips off the remainder of your clothes. It doesn’t take long at all before you’re sitting exposed on his kitchen counter in only a thong, blushing wildly and covering your face with your hands.

“No– no hiding,” he clicks his tongue and pulls your hands away from your face. “I want to see you.”

He whispers a string of profanities and compliments as his starving eyes roam your figure. Self-doubt creeps into your mind and you momentarily consider making a quick exit, convinced he won’t like what he sees, but the way he’s looking at you makes you feel desired in a way you haven’t felt in a long time.

Aegon’s gaze is electrifying and intense, drawing you in and silencing your negative thoughts instantly. His hands pull you in by the waist, sliding you to the edge of the counter as his lips work their way down your chin and neck; leaving a trail of red marks down to your chest. He hums, smirking as he takes one of your breasts in his mouth. His hand kneads the other, rolling your hardened nipple between two fingers. Your head falls back, lips parted slightly as you breathe out his name.

Each sound he elicits from you urges him on even further until he’s on one knee, looking up at you from his position with those pretty eyes. He runs a hand up the back of your calf, softly teasing you with his fingertips before tossing your leg over his shoulder. You knew where he was going, and yet, you were still surprised as he began placing open mouthed kisses on the inside of your thighs; shivering in anticipation as goosebumps formed on your skin.

“You’re so wet,” he says proudly, praising you.

His eyes are locked with yours as his fingers delicately smooth over your clothed clit. He hooks a finger around the dampened cotton and pulls your thong to the side, groaning at the sight of your perfect pussy. Without wasting another second, Aegon’s mouth is suddenly on you and your hands immediately find the back of his head; fingers curling into the roots of his silver hair.

You roll your hips against his tongue, cursing out as your legs begin to shake. He moans, face still buried deep in you and the vibrations have you writhing. Both of his arms are wrapped around your thighs now, holding you tight to him, not letting up for even a second. Then he stands, lifting you up onto his shoulders. You squeal in shock, holding onto him tightly, but he doesn’t stop; he continues to devour you as he blindly carries you towards his bedroom.

When his knees hit the side of his bed, he tosses you back onto the mattress.

You prop yourself up on your elbows and watch as he strips out of his clothes. . You can see the outline of his arousal; prominent and pressing firmly against the fabric of his sweats. You bite your lip at the sight and he smirks as he catches your stare. His movements are unhurried, giving you ample time to appreciate the sight before you. His hoodie and shirt come off first, then his sweats, and you can’t help but notice the way that his muscles flex with each motion. He’s not overly built, but there’s a solid strength in his frame that is evident in the way he moves.

Outside, headlights from passing cars cast streaks of light and shadows across the walls of his room. It’s quiet, the music in the other room has stopped playing and all you can hear is the sound of your own heart beating in your ears. You swallow thickly, encompassed by the tension of the moment as he crawls up the length of your body; placing tender kisses along your skin. His lips leave a trail of warmth, each touch igniting a spark that travels through your entire body.

When he reaches your face, he pauses, his breath mingling with yours as he hovers just inches away. The anticipation builds, thick and electric in the air between you. His lips find yours in a kiss that starts slow and tender but quickly deepens; fingers threading through your hair as he pulls you closer, his body pressing yours deeper into the plush mattress. Your hands explore his back, tracing the contours of his muscles, feeling the tension and strength beneath his skin and coming to rest on his shoulders; gripping tightly as he continues to worship your body with his mouth. Each kiss, each touch, is deliberate, heightening your senses and pulling you further into the moment.

You curse at the feeling of his girth against your entrance. Your hand moves up to the back of his neck, pulling him down to meet your lips as he presses slowly into you.

“Oh fuck,” he whimpers into the crook of your neck as his arms become weak.

He knows that he won’t last like this; it’s been a while and you feel way too good. He’s slow at first, wanting to steady himself and maintain control, but his rhythm picks up quickly; hips moving with an unrelenting rhythm, each thrust bringing you both closer to the edge. You can feel his muscles tense, his grip on you tightening as he buries his face in your neck. His moans are a mix of pleasure and desperation, and you can tell he’s fighting to hold back.

You tighten your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, feeling the overwhelming need to reach that peak together. His pace quickens, the tension in his body building to a breaking point. You feel the same pressure inside of you mounting before it’s suddenly crashing over you like a wave. He follows seconds later, a low groan escaping his lips as he spills into you. The intensity of the moment leaves you both breathless and clinging to each other, bathing in the afterglow.

“That was incredible,” he murmurs against your skin, head pressed to your chest as you stroke his hair softly. His eyes flutter shut as he listens to the sounds of your heartbeat.

You hum in agreement, smiling to yourself as you savor the peacefulness of the moment.

Suddenly, you’re joined by Sunfyre jumping up on the bed, his tail wagging enthusiastically. You smile at him and pat the empty space next to you, inviting him to join your cuddle session. He eagerly accepts the invitation, circling the bed a few times before snuggling up next to you. Aegon lifts his head and smiles, clearly pleased that you would be so open to having the dog in bed with you. He wraps his arm around both you and Sunfyre, pulling you closer.

“This is perfect,” he says softly, his voice filled with contentment as he lays his head back on your chest.

"So, about that job offer," you say playfully, your fingers tracing patterns along his skin. "I think I'll accept the position. When would you like for me to start?"

He lifts his head to look at you, a playful glint in his eyes. “How about tomorrow night at seven?”

Before you can respond, a distinct burning smell reaches your nose. Your brows furrow as you sniff the air. “Do you smell that?”

Aegon’s eyes widen in realization. “The spaghetti!”

He jumps up from the bed, pulling on his clothes quickly, and scrambles into the kitchen. You follow behind him, tossing one of his t-shirts over your head and meet him in the kitchen.

“I guess I forgot to turn off the burner,” Aegon looks disappointed but then chuckles, shaking his head. He looks at you with a glint in his eye and smirks. “Occupational hazard, I guess.”

“Oh, that sucks!” You laugh, playfully nudging him. “Is it too late to back out of the job now?”

“Way too late for that,” he says as he pulls you into a soft kiss, silencing any doubts immediately. “You’re mine now.”

“Mm,” you hum against his lips. “But I came here for the spaghetti.”

He chuckles and pulls back slightly. “Will you settle for pizza?”

“I’ll settle for anything, as long as it’s with you,” you say with a smile as you wrap your arms around his waist. “And as long as there’s extra cheese!”

2K notes · View notes

monstersholygrail · 2 months ago

Text

Puppy bf being a good boy and waiting by the door when you come home from work, his cock already nice and hard. Waiting impatiently he wags his tail so hard it smacks against the wall. Whining about how badly he needs you.

Sending even the slightest signal he’ll be on you before you can blink, his snout nuzzling against your nose as he crowds you against the door so that you can feel the straining bulge in his pants. His hips move on their own as they automatically start grinding against your clothed core.

You protest, trying to at least go to the bedroom, but as soon as your bf gets a whiff of your arousal he’s done for. His nails catching on your clothes and tears them off in one single jerk of his arm. His quickly following.

You cry out, trying to cover yourself up before his hand pins both your wrists above your head. You look at him in shock and he immediately whimpers, bowing his head to you as his hard cock now rocks into your exposed folds. Wanting to be good even as his need consumes him and your arousal drips down onto his length.

“Don’t I deserve your pretty pussy? Haven’t I been good for you?“

His free hand slowly begins to trail down your body, not being able to help but grab fist fulls of your flesh on the way down. You moan softly, head rolling back against the door as he continues his journey until he’s cupping your cunt in his hand. Fingers cheekily running through your glistening folds.

“Y-yes,” you stutter, barely able to talk. Your bf whines louder and dips his fingers inside you just enough to have you jerking in his arms before they leave to swirl around your clit.

“Then please let me fuck you. I’ll do anything! I’ll lick you raw, I’ll make you cum till you pass out, I’ll make you feel better than you ever have before.”

You both know he was going to do all that anyway, but at the desperation in his eyes you know you can’t deny him any longer. And you can’t deny yourself either. Today was stressful and all you want right now is for your bf to pound into you until you’re seeing stars.

All it takes is you hooking your leg around your bf’s waist and his eyes brighten, immediately understanding your signal. Before you can even blink he’s thrusting inside you and he doesn’t stop to let you adjust.

Grunts and moans ring throughout your home and you’re more than certain all the neighbors can hear your bf fucking into you with reckless abandon. The door rattling on its hinges from the sheer power of his cock plunging into your wet heat.

Your bf whines lowly in your ear, nuzzling into the fold of your neck. Slowly turning to a puddle now that he can feel your squishy body back against his and his cock back inside of you.

“Why won’t you touch me? P-please, need your touch. Been forever, do you even love me anymore?” He whines dramatically.

He starts fucking up into you even harder. As if trying to remind you of the sensations that only he’s ever been able to bring out of you. You pant heavily, your eyes clouded with lust to the point you can barely think straight either.

“Baby, you got my hands.”

Your bf looks up and sees his claws still trapping your wrists against the door. His cheeks blaze with pink and he lets you go before hiding into your neck, rocking his hips so his pelvis grinds against your pussy in a silent apology. Your jaw drops, pussy clenching around him and he growls until your hands claw down his back and he calms down.

His length still sliding along your walls at a punishing pace, bringing you closer and closer your release. It’s as if he can sense it, grinding harder against your clit. Wanting to feel you milking his dick more than anything.

“Waited so long for you, to feel your tight pussy sucking my cock back inside you. Felt like years. Missed you so much,” he whimpers, rutting into you furiously like he doesn’t want to leave your cunt for a second.

“I’m right here. Not going anywhere,” you whisper breathlessly in his ear.

With one more thrust you’re coming so hard on his cock that your ears ring. Your pussy clenching down so tightly on his length that he instantly cums right after you. Satisfied growls leaving his chest as you two help work each other through your climaxes.

You sag against him and his hands tighten on your hips, insistent on keeping you close. And he does as he helps take you to your room where he plans to make sure you don’t go anywhere as you’ll be too busy writhing on his thick tongue.

3K notes · View notes

shycoconutt · 4 months ago

Text

“Plea-oh god-please Kento, I can’t, I have nothing left.”

Feeling Nanami breathe into the skin of your neck, he gives you a small hum of encouragement.

“Oh, darling, but I know you can give me more. Be a good girl fr’ me yeah?”

You find yourself in this situation often. Body worship is what some call it. You are at the complete mercy of him, and he treats your body as if it is an extension of his own.

Nanami Kento knows everything about you—what makes your toes curl, your legs shake, your pussy pulse—and he revels in it.

On nights like this, Nanami props himself up against the fabric headboard of your king-sized bed, your back flush against his chest. Your legs rest on the outside of his widely spread thighs. His arms settle on the small of your waist, elbows squishing into the plush there. Chin resting in the crook of your neck, he guides you through every movement, every caress of your soft flesh.

All while his cock is buried deep inside you and his large, strong hands worship your most sensitive parts.

“So beautiful. So good to me. All mine, all mine, all mine.”

His member is tucked so deeply inside you, tip resting right against your cervix, giving it a little taste of his salty pre. Nanami never lets himself release until the very end, needing to feel you cum around him at least five times before he’s satisfied. He says it’s his favorite feeling in the world.

“Shhhh, shhhh, last one baby. Give me just one more, then I’ll give you my cum, okay?”

You don’t know how he does it, and you feel too cock drunk to form any coherent thoughts determining why he’s such an expert when it comes to you. He knows the exact amount of pressure to apply when he pinches your nipples, exactly what pace to rub your clit, exactly where to bite, nip and kiss your skin. Most impressively, he knows exactly what to say when he wants you to let go.

“Mmm you’re so messy, darling. Look, you’ve gotten me and the bed all wet.”

While one hand kneads your breast, he brings the other down between your legs, using his fingers to gather up your nectar.

“Such a good pussy.”

After spreading your wetness around your folds, he brings his hand back up and out in front of your faces, rubbing and separating his fingers so you can both watch the strings of your release stick to him.

“Open.”

You immediately obey his command without a second thought, you always do.

Nanami brings two of his cum-soaked fingers to your mouth, and you invite them in with ease. You feel yourself pulse when your essence hits your tastebuds and you suck needily at his skin.

“Save some for me, darling.”

Gentling hooking his finger on the inside of your cheek, he brings your face to the side to meet his, his dark brown eyes boring into yours with hunger. You release his fingers slightly from your suction, and he brings them out in between both of your mouths. Together, you begin to suck at them, every so often wrapping your lips around them to give each other sloppy licks and kisses.

It’s so hot and erotic, and you are too entrapped in it all to notice your final orgasm creeping up on you. But Nanami notices, he always does.

“That’s a good girl. Where do you want my hands?”

Your head falls back onto his shoulder as you feel your core tighten. You are so close, that you’re surprised you can give him an answer.

“My pussy.”

Nanami quickly brings both of his hands down to your core. He lays two fingers on either side of your sensitive bundle of nerves, rolling it gently between them.

Everything immediately goes white as you let out a cry of intense pleasure. Giving yourself over to him completely, your body goes limp against his as waves of your orgasm crash over you.

“Yes, yes, amazing darling. You’re giving me such a good one.”

Feeling yourself rhythmically pulsing around him, Nanami starts to lose all prior restraint as he lets out a moan from deep within his chest. Hooking his arms under your thighs, he holds them up and to your chest. Bearing all of your weight effortlessly, he begins to simultaneously pound into you while moving you up and down on his cock.

“Ah, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he grunts into your ear.

All the sudden movement is starting to make you feel dizzy, still dumb from your release. Feeling him pound over and over again all the way to your cervix, you begin to match his moans.

“Such a pretty slut for me. You love when I use you like this huh? Like my own personal fleshlight.”

He’s becoming more relentless with each thrust, signaling what’s coming next.

“Should I give you what you want, darling?”

Bringing your hand back behind you to play with the hair of his undercut, you whimper slightly.

“Mmm, yes, I’ve been so good. I deserve it, Nami, please.”

You can feel his smile against your neck, canines poking at your skin.

“Yes, yes you do.”

With one final thrust, Nanami clamps you down, pushing you as far as you can go onto his length. Hearing his head hit the headboard, he cries out as he begins to release rope after rope of his thick cum into you, coating your plush walls.

It takes you a couple seconds to come to, feeling absolutely full of him. Completely spent, Nanami gently brings your legs back down to rest on his own, then wraps his arms tightly around your shoulders.

It takes a little while longer for both of your breathing to come back to normal, the rise and fall of his chest lulling you into a state of pure bliss. You thank the universe every day for bringing him to you.

“I love you so much, darling. You have no idea. I’m completely and utterly obsessed with you,” he whispers in your ear.

Hiding your smile in his forearms, you feel a faint blush crawl up your cheeks.

“Let’s stay like this for a while, yeah?” you speak into his skin.

He happily hums to you, nuzzling his face into your neck.

“How about forever?”

a/n: to all my fellow nanami sluts out there, can I get a “hell yeah!”

mdni banner by @kithsune

1K notes · View notes

empresskylo · 1 year ago

Note

headcanons for the cod men if they found out you were a virgin... i promise this is not self indulgent 🫣

𝐜𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈; 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓; 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 includes: ghost, price, soap, alejandro, konig, and gaz. afab!reader. female pet names used. reader refers to self as a woman.

GHOST *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

♡ ok ok ok, he would have never thought he’d want to be specifically with a virgin. like it never really crossed his mind before now, but he just assumed he’d always like being with someone more experienced. he likes a quick hook up. doesn’t have the time to be all gentle and soft and caring for someone who's never done it before, ya know? not that he's an asshole or anything, but he never thought he'd be the right person to take someone's virginity.

♡ but when you tell him you’re a virgin, something stirs inside him. he doesn’t mind. not one bit. if anything, he actually gets a little giddy, wanting to be the one who shows you how it’s done.

♡ and he ends up being rather sweet about it. he goes slow. he takes his time. he spends a good amount of time prepping you. “jus’ lay back, sweetheart. gotta make sure you’re good n’ ready to take me.”

♡ when it finally comes down to it, he’s easy to edge into you. you grip his shoulders tightly, squeezing your eyes shut. “gotta talk to me, love. gotta know i’m not hurtin’ you.” you nod and look up at him. “i’m okay. keep going. please.” he kisses your lips and continues in. after a few painstaking moments, “alright. i’m halfway. jus’ a lil more.” “only halfway?! jesus fucking—“ ghost laughs, his hand caressing your face and tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. when he’s finally fully seated, he groans, fisting the sheets beside your head to keep himself from rutting into full force.

♡ “ah. you okay, pet?” “y-yes. are you all the way in?” “mhm” “okay. just… give me a moment.” “take your time, love. we got all night.” you let yourself adjust for several moments. “can you move, now?” he kisses you, slowly dragging himself halfway out and then pushing back into you, making you both gasp into each other’s mouths. "you're so fuckin' tight," he groans as he tries to take his time. he doesn't want to hurt you.

♡ and he knows the rumor that women don't usually orgasm their first time, so he wanted to make sure you came at least twice before he shoved his cock in you. he wants you to associate this with a positive experience.

♡ and he tries his hardest to make you feel good too. he begins to rub your clit as he thrusts and you moan loudly. he grins. "you like that, princess?" you nod your head vigorously. and sure enough, he's able to make you come around his cock and he swears that was some of the best sex of his life. it wasn't the fact that you were a virgin, it was the trust and the intimacy of it that made this so good for him. he never thought he'd care for things like that until now.

PRICE *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

♡ price doesn't really mind either way, but he was definitely surprised when you told him -- he couldn't believe someone as beautiful as you had never slept with anyone. but he's honored that you'd trust him enough to experience that with him.

♡ he kisses you and lays you down on his bed, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. "jus' let me take care of you, love," he coos. you bite your lip and nod. he starts by going down on you, making you come on his tongue like he has before. then he's back above you, wanting your first time to be in missionary, making you as relaxed as possible.

♡ he even made it all sweet and lit some candles (":

♡ he constantly is getting consent and checking in on you. "you feelin' okay?" "jus' tell me to stop if you don't like it." "want me to keep goin'?" "tell me what you want, sweetheart." "this feels good, yeah?"

♡ when he's fully inside you, he strokes your hair and kisses you multiple times. "see, wasn't so bad," he teases gently.

♡ with price, it's really not awkward at all. he doesn't let it be. he's so sweet and considerate the whole time. when he's thrusting inside you, he checks to make sure he's not going too hard.

♡ and he knows the sex will only get better, so he tells you not to worry if you don't finish alongside him. and you don't finish with him, but he makes sure to get you off after.

♡ he holds himself inside you after he comes, grunting and panting above you. then he looks down at you. "i wanna feel you come on my cock, love." you look a bit confused and he starts rubbing your clit, keeping himself planted inside you. with the pressure of the situation over, you're much more relaxed and apt to orgasm. so it doesn't take you long to spasm around him, and he fucking loves it. "god, you feel amazing, princess." and he looks at you with such admiration as you catch your breath and come down from your high.

♡ "it will only get better from here," he teases.

♡ after he pulls out and gets up, he scoops you up too, making you squeal. he carries the two of you to the bathroom to shower and clean up. he washes your hair. helps you put your clothes on (making sure it's his stuff you're wearing) and pulls you into bed with him, his arm wrapped around you.

SOAP *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

♡ johnny has no issue with it at all. he really thinks nothing of it. he didn't care if you were a virgin or not, so when you tell him, all it does is lets him know he needs to be a bit slower with you. and you truly appreciate him not making a big deal about it.

♡ it'd probably happen one time when you two are making out on the couch. things get a little heated and his hands are all over you. he gropes your breast through your shirt and you moan in his mouth. he pushes you back on the couch and teases your shirt up. "j-johnny," you say between kisses. "yes, lass?" "you remember i'm a virgin, right?" "mhm," he kisses you again. "did you want me t'stop?" "n-no," you whine as he rubs a hand over your clothed clit. "i just don't want to disappoint you." he looks at you in annoyance. "what? why would ya disappoint me?" he sees the shy look in your eyes like you're a bit ashamed. "lass, you could never disappoint me. i just want you. but if you don't wanna do anything, that's okay too." he kisses your nose and caresses the side of your face.

♡ with that out of the way, you tell him you do want to. he promises to go slow. and he does. he asks how you want it. you can ride him if that would make you more comfortable, being able to control the pace and all.

♡ you straddle him on the couch, soap's hands running all across your torso. squeezing and cupping your breast. gliding over your ribcage. going down to your ass and pulling you forward.

♡ you're slow when you lower yourself on him and johnny's head falls to the back of the couch, trying to contain himself. "you feel so good," he whines out.

♡ lots and lots of little praises. he wants to make sure you're comfortable and enjoying yourself. "that's it, love." "fuckin' hell, you’re takin’ me so well." "does it feel good?"

♡ and he'll rub your clit with his thumb, smiling as you collapse into him, your arms around his neck as you continue to bounce on top of him.

♡ you're definitely pleased when you orgasm around him, sending soap over the edge as well.

♡ then he kisses you, runs his hand through your hair, and pulls you into his lap where he'll tell you how good you were, how much he loved that. and he'll make sure you had a nice time too. wanting to make sure you feel good about yourself.

ALEJANDRO *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

♡ gets a little bit of sick satisfaction knowing he’s going to have been the only one to have had you. “gettin’ you all for myself, then, mi amor?”

♡ even though he’s thoroughly enjoyed sex for years and has developed a taste for what he likes and dislikes, he’s charmed to be with someone who is so new at this. it’s a new experience for him in that sense.

♡ he definitely wants you comfortable before he tries anything, BUT, he goes absolutely fucking feral when he gets you to blush and act all shy and awkward. gets off embarrassing you. “you want me to fuck that tight little cunt of yours?” he says. your eyes widen and your cheeks get hot/flush. “a-alejandro” you whimper, a bit startled at his dirty mouth. “hmm? did you think my teasing stopped at the bedroom?” he winks.

♡ “tell me how you want it, mi amor. do you want my cock?” you nod sheepishly. “uh-uh,” he scolds. “gotta use your words.” you turn your face away from him in embarrassment. “yes.” “yes what?” “yes, i want your cock.” your entire body is on fire and alejandro grins madly. he never would have thought innocence would turn him on so much.

♡ but he’s really quite sweet in the moment. even though he does tease you quite a bit, he’s always reading your body and making sure he’s not hurting you and that you’re enjoying yourself. “just tell me if you want me to stop,” he says down at you. “okay?” he asks. you nod, “okay.” “esa es mi buena chica.” that’s my good girl.

♡ even though his is being careful, he can't help but get turned on when your nails are digging into his back and your face is scrunched up. "it's so much," you whimper out. that honestly sends him over the edge. he gets a little sense of pride knowing how intense everything was for you -- and for him.

♡ he makes sure you're not hurt once everything is done and he cleans you up and holds you close to him.

KÖNIG *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

♡ you were a bit nervous to tell him, so you kinda waited until the last minute.

♡ könig had you pinned beneath him, leaving a trail of kisses along your neck, making you giggle. after he’s torn your clothes off and is back to attacking your lips, you break away to mumble at him. “i’ve… never done this before,” you said shyly. he looks at you, his eyes flickering between yours. “is this okay? do you want me to stop?” you shake your head. “no, no. i just wanted you to know.” he smiles and kisses you again.

♡ he’s okay with being your first, but it definitely makes him a bit nervous. he knows he’s going to have to be the one to take control of the situation, figuring you might be a bit shy/awkward and not know how to lead. but he’s okay with that.

♡ he also doesn’t want to hurt you. my guy is 6’7” so i mean… he’s got a big dick, i’m sure of it—he told me himself. he makes you orgasm like 4 times beforehand, absolutely tiring you out, but also making you relaxed and more ready for him.

♡ he’s planted between your legs and you're still panting from your last orgasm, and he lines himself up. “m’gonna go slow,” he tells you. you nod and he slowly enters you. your hands grip his shoulders tightly, already feeling the pressure of him stretching you out. (and even if you weren’t a virgin, it would still be like this tbh. size kink initiated)

♡ it takes a few minutes for him to bottom out. he does little half thrusts with only part of him inside you, trying to ease his way in. “i don’t think you can fit,” you whine out. “you can take it, liebling. jus’ a little—ungh—furtherrrrr—fuck,” he groans as he fills you completely. you’re whimpering under him, but mostly in pleasure.

♡ he catches his breath before asking you if he can move. you nod. he kisses your lips, mumbling against you, “i’ll be gentle.” he begins to rock into you.

♡ and he is. he’s slow and soft with you, mumbling praises. he tries his hardest to get you to give him another orgasm, rubbing your clit. you whine and squirm under him. you trust him so much that you’re actually relaxed enough to orgasm your first time with him.

♡ he’s stopped moving inside you so he can focus solely on rubbing your clit. finally, you clamp down on him and come. you’re so breathtakingly beautiful under him, squeezing him so fucking tight, that könig orgasms right then and there, without even having to move. both of you are a little shocked and you end up giggling.

♡ he lays on top of you, resting his head on your chest, his hands wrapped around you, while you stroke his hair. he leaves a little trail of kisses on your skin and you both lay there for a bit, content and entangled together.

GAZ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

♡ gaz is a bit baffled about what to do. like he gives off hot shit energy, but when you tell him he’d be your first, he gets flustered. he feels pressured to make sure it’s good since he will be your first impression of sex.

♡ you end up having to tell him to calm down. “kyle, oh my god, it’s fine! it doesn’t have to be perfect. i just want it to be with you.” and that definitely relaxes him a bit. he just doesn’t wanna ruin this for you. it’s actually quite sweet.

♡ he’s on the bed, on top of you, kissing you and slowly stripping both of your clothing. when you’re both in underwear he makes an offer. “did you wanna be on top, love?” you give him an unsure look. “idk, i'm not really sure what i’m doing,” you say shyly, playing with the chain around his neck as it dangles above you. gaz rolls over and takes you with him. “you don’t havta if you don’t wanna, but this way you get to control everything. because shit… idk how well i’m gonna be able to control myself once i’m in you.” your face goes red hot.

♡ you take him up on his offer and stay straddling him. you let him help you line yourself up with him and you sink down ever so slowly, gritting your teeth as you do. gaz has his hands on your hips, panting as you take him teasingly slow. “that’s it, baby,” he encourages.

♡ your hands rest on his chest, sitting slightly forward as you take your time sinking down all the way. once you’re fully seated, gaz let’s out a guttural grunt, his eyes squeezed shut, his voice strained, “fuck—yeah, good t-thing you’re leadin’ this because with how fuckin’ good ya feel, i'd be tempted to fuckin' plow right into you.” his words leave you slightly embarrassed. gaz opens his eyes and looks at you lovingly. “ugh, you’re a fuckin’ dream,” he groans.

♡ not only does his words make you more excited, but it makes you more confident. you begin to move up and down, putting your weight on your hands. gaz hands grip your hips tightly in his fingers, clawing at you as you ride him.

♡ after several minutes of this, he rolls you under him making you squeal. “i can’t hold back any longer,” he says as he slides out of you and thrusts back in. he definitely does it more powerfully than you were, but it doesn’t hurt. it feels good letting him do the work. he buries his head in your neck, “jus’ let me know if i’m going to fast.”

♡ it isn’t much longer until you’re squeezing around him, making him groan and grunt wildly. just hearing him like that, knowing it’s you causing it, has you spilling over the edge. the way you tighten around him sends him over the edge as well.

♡ you’re both panting as he lays beside you, pulling you into him. “jesus,” he murmurs. “i always thought it was supposed to kinda suck for women the first time,” you said. gaz looks down at you, running his fingers in your hair, and laughs. you both begin giggling, both ecstatic and feeling amazing. you’ve never felt closer to him in that moment.

♡ gaz couldn’t believe how good it felt to have you coming with him and he's so excited, he's rolling you under him, asking if you're ready for round two.

8K notes · View notes

moonstruckme · 2 months ago

Note

for thawing out, i see how you've already characterized the reader as kind of the calm, even keeled one of the group and i would LOVE to just see her stand up for herself and absolutely blow up after getting pushed too far by the boys (a little mean of me to want her to go through that but-) but yes i love me a good out of character moment that kind of make the characters be like "oh shit maybe we shouldn't be acting this way-" love you babe 🫶

Hi lovely, idk if this is exactly what you had in mind but thanks sm for requesting! Love you <3

collab with @ellecdc

cw: modern au, chronic pain, implied past abuse, hurt no comfort (for some)

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 2.9k words

When Remus arrives at your apartment the next morning, Sirius is already standing at the front door. His arms are crossed over his chest as he glowers in Remus’ direction, but it’s difficult to find him very intimidating when his nose is pink from the cold.

“Oh,” he says, feeling awkward. “Hello.”

“Hi,” Sirius replies drily. “What are you doing here?”

Remus shrugs. Fine. If Sirius wants to be a prick (and what else is new), he can do that too. “I didn’t think you’d come. Have you knocked already?”

“Of course I knocked,” he all but sneers. “Why would you assume I wasn’t going to be here? I said I would be.”

“I honestly didn’t expect you’d be able to drag yourself out of bed.”

Sirius looks ready to make a retort, but your door opens. You look surprised to see both boys on your doorstep, your smile tentative. Remus still doesn’t understand how you can do that at such an early hour.

“Hi,” you say. Then you turn to Sirius, grin widening as you pinch the frozen tip of his nose fondly. “You made it.”

“Obviously I made it!” The other boy’s voice takes on a wounded tone, and Remus has to tuck a smile into his scarf. Sirius must suspect, because his gaze narrows.

“How did you get this address?” he asks Remus.

Remus feels his brow crinkle. It’s not as if he’s the one you’re in danger of.

“He texted me last night, and I gave it to him,” you answer for him. “I sort of assumed you’d oversleep.”

Sirius makes an indignant scoffing noise, but he appears to have nothing more to say. He seems in especially brutish form today. You’re as unphased by his moods as usual, hooking your arm through his.

“I’m sorry to get you both up so early, but I suppose two guard dogs are even better than one.” You squeeze Sirius’ bicep affectionately, and the look you send Remus is pure sweetness. “It’s really nice of you both to come.”

Something warm and fond blooms in Remus’ chest. Sirius mutters some disgruntled sort of assent.

You grin. “And now, we can all buy our own drinks!”

“Oh, fuck this then,” Sirius’ irritating pugnacious tone is back, though now it’s at least partly for show. “I didn’t realize that was part of the deal. I want out.”

You only make an amused pffting sound, pulling him playfully against your side.

Remus falls back to let the two of you walk alongside each other on the sidewalk. It’s odd and occasionally entertaining to watch you, so entirely familiar and at ease with each other. It’s the sort of relationship Remus hasn’t had in years, and he’s beginning to question whether he ever had a bond quite as close as yours. It’s obvious even from the outside that the pair of you know each other inside and out, and that you love each other just as deeply. But Sirius’ love is another thing entirely; the way he looks at you is almost too painful to witness.

Remus doesn’t understand why Sirius hasn’t pursued you. He certainly prefers it this way; it makes his job considerably easier with things platonic and professional between the pair of you, but it just doesn’t add up. Sirius strikes him as the sort of cocksure prat who goes for what he wants, every time. He’s certainly arrogant enough to be sure he’ll get it, and admittedly, with his looks and devil-may-care attitude, there aren’t many people Remus can see turning him down. (They definitely should, but they likely wouldn’t.) Perhaps, after knowing him so long and working with him so closely, you’re simply too smart to get entangled with the likes of Sirius Black.

You do eventually look back to call Remus up to join the two of you. Sirius looks irked at this, and Remus wishes he could say he was more mature, but he goes in large part because of it. You loop your other arm through his and make sure to include him in your conversation the rest of the way to the rink.

The morning’s practice goes by with much of the same forced camaraderie. You’re friendly and receptive, Sirius is loud and irksome, but overall Remus is pleased with how things are going. You’re improving every day, to a degree Remus can’t help but admire. He can easily see you perfecting this routine by the Olympics in less than a month, which certainly defies his expectations from when he first started coaching you. Sirius is the same as always; he’s not as consistent or as controlled as Remus would like, but he doesn’t seem inclined to change and his form is (though Remus wouldn’t admit it aloud even at knifepoint) truly beautiful to watch.

By the end, he has only one thing to say.

“I think we need to up the ante.”

You look up from where you’re putting on your skate guards, intrigued. “How do you mean?”

“You’re going to perfect this routine.” Remus can say that with confidence now. A nice little bonus is the way your face lights with bashful pride when he does. “You’ll get plenty of execution points from that, but if you want to really compete it wouldn’t hurt to add a higher difficulty move.”

Sirius looks up, his gaze watchful.

“What did you have in mind?” you ask.

“A death spiral,” says Remus. “We could fit it in during the lower-level sequence towards the end. You should be ending with more of a crescendo anyway.”

You’re nodding. “An outside death spiral?”

“And backwards, if you’re up for it.”

“No way.” Sirius’ skates are already in his bag. You look over at him, bemused, but he’s looking at Remus. “You can’t fuck with the program this late. It’s only a couple of weeks before we leave.”

Reluctantly, Remus turns to face him. His eyes are like a brewing storm. “And would you like to medal whilst you’re there?”

“We don’t need this to medal.”

“You don’t know what the competition will be like. You need to bring everything you can to the routine.”

Sirius kisses his teeth. He stands, looking at Remus with barely repressed malice. “A backwards outside death spiral isn’t something you can just toss in at the last minute. We’re only just starting to manage what we have in the routine already! It’s too risky.”

Remus fights the urge to roll his eyes. Sirius isn’t subtle; it’s clear what this is really about. “She’s going to be fine,” he says firmly, refusing to back down when the other boy's eyes narrow. “She’s perfectly capable of deciding for herself whether she wants to do this, and your feelings cannot be the deciding factor here. The death spiral is a staple of pair routines. You have to take some risks if you want to compete at this level.”

“Oh, do you?” Sirius’ laugh is cold and dead. “Is that what you did? If it’s so fucking easy, why don’t we get out there so you can show us how it’s done?” He juts his chin towards the ice, jaw set and eyes blazing. “You can let us see how great it works out to take risks.”

Remus doesn’t even feel the ache in his hip as he takes two quick steps towards Sirius, towering over the other boy with his blood pounding in his ears. Sirius is forced to look up, but he turns his chin up defiantly. His face hardens as he takes in a short, quick breath.

You cram yourself between them.

It’s like snapping back into his body. Remus stumbles back, his hip screaming at the hurried motion. He bites the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste iron, collapsing backwards onto the bench while you put yourself in front of Sirius like a human shield. Your expression is wrathful.

“Do not do that,” you growl. You reach behind you, taking Sirius’ forearm in your grasp as though to keep him from moving. “God, why do you both have to be such dickheads to each other? We’re done here.”

You march straight past Remus, dragging Sirius along on your other side like a dog on a leash. He looks about as shell-shocked as Remus feels. Your outburst knocked him flat on his ass, literally. It’s not that Remus didn’t think you were capable of yelling; he suspected you had fangs, but the venom came as a surprise.

He winces when the door bangs shut behind you. They probably deserve that. He doesn’t envy Sirius, who’s likely to get a lengthy lecture from you on the walk home, but Remus does realize this could mean him losing his job. Trading petty remarks with Sirius had almost begun to feel like part of his role, but he’d never expected to make you so furious. He doesn’t know what it will mean for him that he has.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

During the entirety of Remus’ long, steamy shower, he cannot stop thinking of the look on Sirius’ face. The way his eyes had almost changed color, going from a murky gray to blue like the hottest part of a flame. He’d looked almost pleading, for half a second after Remus first brought up the death spiral, before his face hardened back into harsh stoniness. He keeps fixating on that look, that second where the dynamic between them seemed on the brink of shifting before it didn’t. But maybe it never could have. Maybe Remus imagined the whole thing; it was only half a second, anyway.

Regardless, he feels stupid for stooping to Sirius’ level. He’s better than that, he hopes, but in the last few weeks he’s let the other boy bring out the worst in him. He decides that if you don’t fire him, he’s going to try harder to be above it. If Sirius wants to trade insults like a child, Remus can treat him like a child; with patience and a repertoire of aloof platitudes, but he won’t engage with him anymore.

He’s put on a pair of pajama pants and is moving the waistband to hold a pack of frozen peas to his hip when there’s a knock on his door. He leans back to peer through the window, and there you are, blowing into your hands and shivering on his doorstep.

Remus groans as he gets up. He was really hoping to have at least one night of relaxation before having to have this conversation.

You must stop rubbing your hands together when you hear him opening the door. “Hi,” you say.

“Hi,” Remus replies, amused despite himself. They’re having one of those odd nights where snow falls but doesn’t stick, except to you apparently. Little white flakes are tangled in your hair and dusted across your shoulders. Remus can see some between your eyelashes when you blink. You’re stiff as a board, but there’s no hiding the tiny waves of trembles that shake your frame.

“I hope it’s okay that I didn’t call first.” Your voice is teetering on the brink of a chitter.

“Yeah, it’s alright.” Remus really shouldn’t feel so warm towards you when you’re likely here to fire (or at the very least, berate) him, but you do look terribly cold. “Would you like to come in?”

“Yeah, thanks.” You step inside so fast he hardly has time to make room for you, and the sleeve of your coat brushes against his bare chest, making him shiver. Remus realizes then that he’s not wearing a shirt, but he decides not to care; it is his house (or his rental, at least), and you’re the one who showed up unannounced. He’s entitled to be as underdressed as he likes.

This small bit of indignance, though founded entirely from a battle within himself, reminds Remus to be miffed with you.

“If you’re going to ask me to apologize to Sirius,” he says, going to the kitchen to put the kettle on (he may be miffed, but he is still Welsh), “you can save it. I have no intention of getting into a row like that with him again, but I was not the one who was being unreasonable.”

You rub your lips together, nodding. “Yeah, I agree. You shouldn’t apologize to him.”

Remus feels his eyebrows draw together. “Okay…good. Because I’m not planning on it,” he says, just to be sure you understand. “He was completely out of line.”

You nod again. “He was.”

Remus finds his eyes straying to the door while he mulls over whether he’s feeling impolite enough to ask the next logical question. Then what are you doing here?

You take in a breath, letting it whoosh out of you. “I came because I want to apologize.”

It’s impossible to keep the surprise off his face. “You?”

“Yeah.” You rock a bit on your feet, and Remus realizes you’re still wearing your coat. Either you don’t plan to stay long, or you’re too anxious to take it off without an invitation. “I’m sorry I shouted at you earlier. It was really harsh—I mean, I was right, but I didn’t need to be cruel about it.” You glance to the side, a bit of bashfulness softening your voice. “I also shouldn’t have called you a dickhead.”

A little chuckle escapes him. “We were being dickheads.”

“You were,” you agree, “but I still shouldn’t have said it. I don’t want to be like that. I’m sorry, and I hope you still want to stay with us.”

You look back at him, your expression intentionally firm but your eyes beseeching, and some part of Remus melts. He and Sirius get into fights all the time—loud ones, with shouting and name calling and absolutely no holds barred—but you snap at them once, and here you are. Having walked here by yourself in the cold because you feel bad about it.

“Let me get your coat,” he offers.

You take your tea to the couch, where you curl up automatically on the side opposite Remus’, pulling your legs in so he can pass between you and the coffee table. Remus picks his peas back up as he sits carefully, stifling a groan. It’s a bit embarrassing to ice his hip in front of you, but the pain has become too much to ignore.

You wince as you watch him settle them underneath his waistband. “Is that because of me?”

He can’t very well tell you the truth when you sound so guilty. “No,” he says. “I have to do this a lot.” That part’s not a lie.

You nod, still looking sorry. Remus is grateful when you move on quickly.

“Just so you know,” you say, “Sirius probably won’t apologize to you either.”

Remus almost snorts. “Yeah, I wasn’t anticipating he would.”

You smile ruefully. “I know he probably feels bad about saying what he did—he knows he had no right—but he just gets so caught up in anger sometimes. If it helps at all, today was just an especially hard day for him. He’s always…extra on edge around this time of year. You learn not to take the things he says personally.”

Remus studies you through narrowed eyes. He blows steam off his tea. “Does he do that to you often?”

You shake your head. “I don’t typically goad him,” you say with no small amount of humor. Or pointedness.

He lifts a brow. He’s already told you he won’t be apologizing for giving as good as he gets.

You sigh, your expression going somber. “Listen, I know Sirius can get really—” you shake your head again, blowing out a breath “—really quite hot headed, but you can’t get in his face like that. His life has—well, it’s not my place to tell you about what his life has been, but even when he says things like that, you can’t act all threatening just because you’re having a spat, okay?”

Remus feels his brow wrinkle. “Threatening?”

Your face softens. “You looked like you were about to hit him,” you say gently.

Something inside Remus gutters. “I did?”

You nod, looking almost apologetic. He feels nauseous.

“I didn’t…”

“I don’t think you would have,” you clarify. “I’m not saying I thought you were going to hit him, I just know how Sirius works. And from his perspective, I know how it looked. You can’t do that to him.”

“I don’t want to do that to anyone.” Remus sounds injured even to his own ears, and so he takes a deep breath, closing his eyes to shut out the pained pinch of your mouth.

“I’m sorry,” he says after a few moments. “I really had no idea that’s how it looked. I think I got too caught up in being angry about what he said, but it won’t happen again.”

“I know.” Your voice is gentle. You set a hand on his knee, tentative but there. “I didn’t come here to make you feel bad. It’s okay, just…now you know. For next time.” Remus opens his eyes again, and you smile wryly. “You can shout at him all you want. Don’t let him dish it out without making him take it, but just stay away from physical stuff like that, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Remus agrees hoarsely. “Thank you.”

“Don’t sweat it.” You give his knee a friendly pat, leaning back against the couch cushions and sipping your tea.

Again, Remus marvels at you. Sirius fights for you every day, whether you ask him to or not, loud and bold and relentless in his devotion to you. He wonders if Sirius knows that even when he doesn’t ask, in your own way, you go to bat for him too.

719 notes · View notes

buckymorelikefuckme · 1 month ago

Text

fri(end)s

bucky barnes x fem reader

words: 3.8k

warnings & tags: **18+ ONLY** friends/roommates to lovers oh my god they were roommates, smoking weed, brief mutual masturbation, frottage (i think that's the right word idfk i'm all out of practice), p in v sex, unprotected sex (don’t do that), reader has nipple piercings bc i said so, slight pain kink? mayhaps? ok pls let me know if i’ve missed anything!

a/n: i made this fic my bitch tonight. this is absolutely not proofread or beta'd, you're just gonna have to take it for what it is, sorry not sorry. anyway, it’s been too long since i wrote for this beefy man :’) i really hope you like it. this was originally very loosely inspired by a scene in what’s your number? but it quickly gained a mind of its own to become what it is now, so. there ya go. title is from the song of the same name by V of bts thank you very much. any and all mistakes are my own. feedback is greatly appreciated and heavily encouraged!!! xoxo

bucky barnes masterlist || main masterlist

Bucky’s introduction to weed was something you’d been supremely proud of.

When the two of you became roommates, you both had been kind of quiet and kept to yourselves at first, which isn’t too unusual, but you noticed that Bucky almost always had a frown etched into his handsome face. A frown that only ever softened after a night out with his friends and, you assumed, a decent hook-up. It never took long for that frown to reappear, though.

You didn’t know what could have been so stressful for him, but you knew he needed a way to relax, and not just for himself, either. The sight of him glumly moving around the apartment—honestly, you’ve never seen someone make fixing a bowl of cereal look so fucking sad—was beginning to weigh on your own nerves.

So, naturally, you thought of asking him if he’s ever tried weed. Somehow, his frown had deepened at that question. He said no, shocking absolutely no one, and then you asked if he wanted to try it. Admittedly, he was a little hesitant at first, but he eventually agreed.

The way his body, all two hundred and whatever pounds of muscle and angst, sank into the recliner like a ragdoll when the high really hit him made you grin. Though, to be fair, you were already smiling, what with you also being high. It was the first time you saw a real, genuine smile from Bucky, and you were immensely pleased to have given him a way to decompress from whatever kept him so tense all the time.

It became a sort of thing for you two. Saturday nights were for getting high, binge-watching Love Island (UK, because you both have class, thank you very much) and raiding the pantry for all the good snacks when the munchies hit. You’d never tell anyone, but those nights quickly became something you looked forward to every week, something you could cling to when your own life got a little difficult. Who knew smoking weed—and on a few special occasions, doing edibles—with your roommate would make a friendship blossom so prettily?

***

After how late Bucky got in last night, you knew he’d be sleeping in and would more than likely have a hangover. So, for this particular Saturday morning, you get up and quietly start gathering your laundry while Bucky snores loudly into his pillow from his bedroom. You were getting behind on it anyway, down to your last pair of clean shorts.

Before you put them on, though, you purse your lips in thought, staring at your pile of dirty clothes. You didn’t want to put on clean shorts with the panties and shirt you slept in last night. It would be smarter to wash them with the rest of your clothes, right? But that would leave you topless, which, you wouldn’t exactly be opposed to it, but you’re not sure Bucky would appreciate waking up to you walking around with your tits out. Or maybe he would? Whatever, it doesn’t matter.

You shake your head to clear your thoughts and then remember that Bucky did his laundry yesterday, and knowing him, he probably left at least some of his clean clothes in the dryer. Surely he wouldn’t mind you borrowing a shirt.

With that plan in mind, you dump your clothes into your laundry basket and make your way down the hall to the doors where your washing and drying units are (a major selling point of the apartment, if you’re honest). Just like you thought, Bucky’s left a load in the dryer, and even some of his button-downs are hung up on the drying rack. You quickly pull your t-shirt off, shivering against the cool air, and reach for one of the hangers, slipping his shirt off of it and onto yourself. For a dress shirt, it’s actually quite comfortable, obviously one of the shirts he wears more often with how soft and a little worn the fabric is. You shimmy your panties down your legs and add them to your pile, grabbing your clean shorts and tugging them on, too.

You make quick work of starting your first load of clothes, closing the doors to muffle the sound of the washer, and head back to your room to do your morning routine. By the time you’re done and have also cooked yourself breakfast, Bucky is staggering down the hall and into the kitchen, hair a tangled nest atop his head and eyes bleary.

“Good morning, sunshine,” you greet with a teasing smile.

He flips you off and beelines for the coffee machine, pouring himself a cup and not speaking a word until he’s downed at least half of it. Part of you is concerned for his esophagus, but you’ve long since come to the conclusion that Bucky’s probably got a thing for pain—both physically and emotionally.

“Remind me to tell Sam he isn’t allowed to bring Natasha on our nights out anymore,” he grumbles, voice rough from both sleep and a long night of drinking. “I’ve never taken so many shots of vodka in my life.”

You hum. “Sounds like my kind of woman, actually.” He cuts his eyes at you, silently judging while taking another sip of his coffee. “Want me to fry up some bacon and eggs for you?” You almost laugh at the way his expression immediately switches to pleading.

The rest of the morning is spent finishing your laundry and putting it all away, even gathering up Bucky’s clothes that he’d left and dumping them on his bed. You’ll leave the folding to him, though; your generosity only extends so far, after all.

Lunch rolls around and you both decide to order takeout from the burger place down the street, Bucky shushing you when you keep insistently whispering for him to order extra truffle fries (which he does order, after you’ve sworn pain of death if he doesn’t) and once it arrives, the two of you settle around the coffee table in the living room, putting on a random movie to watch while you eat.

And of course, when the sun begins to lower on the horizon, you start pulling out your stash and getting everything ready. Bucky’s already got the windows open in the living room to let the smell air out as you smoke, and he also has Love Island queued up and ready to go.

While you smoke the first joint, you make the conscious decision to bake a small batch of brownies for later. Bucky sits on the counter beside you, passing the joint back and forth as he quietly watches you work. Wordlessly, you hand over the bowl and spoon to him after you’ve poured the batter into the awaiting pan. No matter how many times you’ve tried to warn him about salmonella he always insists on licking them clean.

Sometimes, in these moments, you forget how surly he used to be with you. Not that he was ever rude or anything, but he never would have pouted about not being able to eat raw brownie batter before you helped him break down some of those walls of his.

***

“He’s such a dick,” Bucky mumbles a while later, face impassive and tone bland as he refers to one of the islanders of the show, slouching so deeply into the couch he’s practically become one with it.

The high from the first joint is finally kicking in fully, doing its job of releasing every ounce of tension from your bodies. It’s also making your mouth dry and tummy rumble for snacks. Thank god you made those brownies and Bucky unearthed some candy from past movie nights and lots of chips out of the pantry cabinets.

You hum at his comment. “Most men are.”

Bucky turns his head in your direction with an affronted expression that has you snickering. He goes to reply, giving you the sassiest once-over you’ve ever seen, but his eyes doubletake on your torso and he pauses. He stares for a moment.

“That’s my shirt,” he states.

You look down at the shirt in question, of which you’ve worn all day long and somehow he’s only just now noticing.

“Wow, you’re like Sherlock Holmes or something,” you drawl.

Bucky stares some more, and then, “Why are you wearing my shirt?”

“Because I had laundry to do and I needed something to wear while all my stuff was washing,” you say in a “duh” tone.

“But…” He frowns. “It’s my favorite.”

You snort inelegantly. “Bucky, you literally have, like, at least four other white dress shirts.”

“So? What, I can’t have a favorite one just because I have more of the same color?”

“Christ,” you say on an exasperated exhale. “I’ll give it back before bed, okay? I don’t wanna move right now. I’m scared I’ll bump into stuff again.”

Bucky huffs a laugh at that, which turns into a full-blown giggle fit that is contagious. Soon after your shared laughter dies down, the conversation moves back to the illicit love triangles among the islanders. You trash talk the couple that Bucky likes, just to see him get riled up and rant about how they’re the most real couple of the season and everyone else is just jealous. He gets red in the face and pouty when you remind him that this is a heavily produced show about pretty people getting a chance to get famous for being pretty people by hooking up with each other and playing stupid games that mean nothing in the grand scheme of it all. Really, it’s quite cute.

To placate him, though, you get a second joint rolled and let him take the first hit.

***

Turns out this second one hits you rather harder than normal. It feels like your head is a balloon and your neck is the string tethering it to the rest of your body. Everything feels much more sluggish compared to all the other times you’ve gotten high with Bucky. Somewhere in the depths of your hazy brain you remember that you’d gotten a different brand this time around; perhaps that’s why.

On the tv, the islanders are getting ready for bed, and once the lights go out in their room, some of the couples engage in some serious heavy petting, lifting their comforters for a semblance of privacy. The sounds start next, sighs and low moans, and it all begins to settle into your subconscious. Between one lazy blink and the next, you realize you’re… actually kind of horny. It’s not enough for you to really pay attention to it, not at first, just a little sprinkle of it, a tiny twist in your core that briefly has you pressing your thighs together then relaxing again.

But then the arousal builds up inside you so slowly and easily that you don’t even realize your hand has apparently grown a mind of its own and found its way down your shorts. You inhale sharply at the touch of your fingers against your clit, lashes fluttering as the sensation registers. The sound gains Bucky’s attention from where he's been lounging on the opposite end of the couch with his head tipped back and eyes closed.

They’re not closed anymore. Out of your peripheral, you see his head shift in your direction, feeling the weight of his stare like a physical thing. Your mind is both connected and disconnected from your actions, half-aware that this is probably not the smartest thing to be doing, that you’re absolutely crossing a major boundary. Touching yourself in this way in front of your roommate, your friend, is so not normal.

Yet, for some idiotic reason, you leave your hand down your shorts, continuing to lightly pet at your clit, neediness rising steadily. Even though you know he’s watching—and suspiciously quiet—you can’t help but let your fingers slither down to where you’re beginning to drip to gather some of your slick and bring it back to your clit and swirling your fingers at a sedate pace, sighing as your nipples tighten underneath your shirt.

Bucky is as still as a statue, gaze honed in on the movement of your hand, on how your thighs ease open more and more the longer you play with your pussy.

It takes very little time for your eyes to wander over to the man just a couple feet away, and to then notice and fixate on the growing bulge in Bucky’s sweatpants. The weight of his stare is almost a physical thing and you swallow roughly as you think about what he might look like, if he’s at all how you’ve secretly imagined when you’re alone in your bedroom, in much the same position as you are in now.

His hands creep towards his thighs and smooth down the expanse of them and back up, slowly, over and over, like he’s teasing himself. Like he’s teasing you. Your fingers don’t stop as you lift your other hand to tweak and pinch at your nipples through well-worn cotton, a tiny noise slipping past your dry lips.

Bucky pulls the hem of his shirt up, exposing part of his toned stomach and only hesitates for a split second before he lowers the waistband of his pants, pulling his cock out and matching the pace of his strokes with the pace of your fingers. The head of his cock is pink and precum makes it shine under the low light of the lamps in the living room.

You bite your lip as your arousal increases from the sight alone, and you decide to follow his lead, just a bit. You whine from the loss of stimulation when you remove your hand to shimmy your shorts down and off your legs, letting them fall to the floor carelessly. And now, Bucky has an unrestrained view of your glistening cunt as you sink two of your fingers inside yourself and use your other fingers to rub all around your clit. It has you gasping, eyelids threatening to close through the pleasure that sparkles throughout every vein in your body.

It’s good. Amazing, even. And it’s only making you want more. Bucky, it seems, feels much the same.

“C’mere,” he rasps, tone leaving no room for arguing, never mind that you wouldn’t have argued anyway.

You sit up on the couch, knee-walking over to where he’s still in his slumped position, never pulling your hand away from your clit because it feels like you’d cry if you did. Bucky curses under his breath and lets go of his cock to firmly grab you by the hips and tug you onto his lap. Your pussy ends up aligned perfectly with his cock, and you both shudder as you begin gliding back and forth across it, small movements that only increase the suspense of what likely comes next. He meets your eyes, red and glazed over from both the high and the toe-curling feeling of his cock along your wet center.

The kiss, when it happens, tastes like weed and the peanut M&M’s you both were snacking on just a little while ago. Bucky's tongue licks into your mouth like he can’t get enough, nips at your bottom lip to hear you whimper, gets a fistful of your hair and pulls and guides you until you’re pliant for him.

He knocks your hand away from your clit, but before you can complain about it he’s nudging the head of his cock against your entrance and you’re gasping all over again, grinding sloppily as you try to get him inside you. He finally sinks the head in and you allow gravity to aid you in taking the rest of him, moaning brokenly and high pitched at the stretch of him inside you. Bucky groans deep in his chest, hands clutching your waist like a lifeline as you slowly circle your hips, getting used to the feeling.

You stay like that for a few minutes, your breath and Bucky’s mixing hotly between you, and then you finally start fucking yourself on his cock. He grunts when you clench around him on the downstroke. You decide you like the sound, and you really wanna hear it again, so you repeat the action, moaning when the grunt is accompanied by a curse and his fingernails biting into your skin.

It takes what feels like ages for you to realize your thighs and knees ache from riding him, the weed making everything feel like it’s floating, including yourself, but Bucky sees the furrow in your brows and the shaking strain of your legs, and in the next second, he’s got you both moved from the couch to the floor. Time ticks on glacially slow like molasses as you stare up at him whipping his shirt off from where you’re sprawled on the carpet, your limbs shifting lethargically when he spreads your legs to better fit himself between them.

He fucks you hard, but not fast. you’re both much too high for anything fast, yet it still feels like your heart is going to pulse out of your chest, rabbiting away like you’ve run a marathon. Bucky buries his face in your neck, mouthing at your skin while he thrusts almost lazily.

Suddenly, his large hands encapsulate your hips, fingers pressing into the fleshiest parts of them as he sits up, getting his knees under him so he can rest on his haunches. He keeps your ass in his lap and your legs spread on either side of his waist. It makes your back arch and hips tilt up into a position that has you shuddering and sobbing when he begins to grind his thick cock deeper into you.

“I could stay buried in you for hours,” he mutters.

He reaches for the throw pillows on the couch and puts them under your hips, and then he fucks into you so hard it steals the breath right from your lungs, your mouth hanging open on a silent cry. His thrusts are sharper now, angled to perfection and making your toes curl so hard you fear them cramping and body jolt when he glides all the way back in. You gasp when Bucky rips open your shirt (his shirt, your mind helpfully supplies) and sends the buttons scattering across the floor. Those will be a bitch to find and clean up, but that’s a problem for much later.

“Fuck,” he grunts when he sees the piercings glinting in your nipples. “I fucking knew it,” he continues, squeezing each of your breasts in his hands and pinching your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, making you gasp again, pushing up into the sensation.

“Knew—“ You cut off with a whine when he pinches harder. “Knew what?”

“You walk around here wearing those goddamn cropped tank tops as tight as possible with no bra. Thought I was going crazy when I saw what looked like piercings underneath them,” he confesses as his hands travel back down to grip your waist, never losing his rhythm while he pulls you down to meet his thrusts.

At the sight of your tits bouncing with the movement of his hips, he groans, gravelly, his top lip curling as he grits his teeth and squeezes your hips so hard it hurts, and it only adds to your pleasure. With the way your skin is tingling, your pussy fluttering around him nonstop, you’re not sure if it’s because Bucky is fucking you that well or if it’s the weed. It’s probably both, and you have a split second thought that you’ll just have to test that theory once the high wears off.

It’s almost ironic, you think, how wet and messy your cunt is compared to how dry your mouth feels. It probably doesn’t help that your jaw seems to be permanently slack as you’re unable to stop your gasping inhales, only to exhale sounds you might be embarrassed about if you were clear-headed. Alas, your mind is a lot more focused on the way Bucky is splitting you open and carving a space inside you all for himself.

“So much better,” you whisper absently, fingers clawing at the carpet beneath you.

“Better than what?” he wonders, shifting to grip under your knees and push them up, changing the angle.

You cry out sharply, writhing uselessly in his hold. “My imagination,” you whimper.

Through bleary, tear filled eyes, you glance up at him just in time to see his lips pull into a boyish smirk.

“Mine too,” he confesses and sends you reeling.

You whine and reach down quickly to rub your throbbing clit, your whole body jerking as your pleasure mounts higher and higher. Bucky moans as he watches, stare trained on where you’re joined. His speed does pick up then, the slightest bit, a shudder wracking his frame as you clench down on him, head tipping back and exposing the long expanse of his throat for a brief moment before he suddenly leans over you, letting your legs fall into the cradle of his elbows.

“Won’t you be good for me and cum?” he asks, breathless, hips never letting up.

You open your mouth to reply but all that comes out is a strangled cry of his name, your fingers keeping their pace as your climax swells until it overflows, bursting like a firework and pleasure like you’ve never felt before sparks through every vein, muscle, and bone within you. Bucky curses in such a way it would make a sailor blush as you pulse around him. The sounds of your orgasm and his thrusts meeting your hips are the filthiest things you’ve ever heard, and it doesn’t stop for several moments, dragging on and on. It leaves you trembling and shaking and trying futilely to gather air in your lungs as he refuses to let up.

With great resolve, you bring your wet fingers away from your sensitive clit and up to his panting mouth. He groans at your taste, licking and sucking on your fingers as he chases his own release.

“Please,” you whisper, tears finally escaping your lashes and trailing down the sides of your face, and that seems to be his undoing.

Bucky moans, something high and broken, fucking into you rough enough that you’re worried about carpet burn. But then he pauses, gasping as he finally lets go and rides out his high.

Your hand slips from his mouth and falls to the floor like a deadweight. The only noise in the room now is the both your and Bucky’s harsh breathing and the television still playing that stupid fucking show. Bucky doesn’t move right away, of which you’re very thankful, because you’re not ready to feel the emptiness you know is coming, and it feels nice in a weird way to have him buried in you.

“Fuck,” he exhales, breaking the relative silence.

It makes you giggle, a small thing that turns into something uncontrollable, and when you manage to look at Bucky, he’s grinning in a dopey way that sets you off even more.

This is definitely something the two of you will have to talk about when you’re both sober, but like the buttons, that can be handled later. Although, something tells you it’ll all turn out just fine.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes #pls take this away from me before i scream

740 notes · View notes

etherealyoungk · 9 months ago

Text

new beginnings - jeon wonwoo

summary: in which a certain someone starts getting extra clingy to you, leading you to find out you're pregnant.

pairing: husband!wonwoo x fem!reader

themes: established relationship, terms of endearment, pregnancy, fluffy, comfort

warnings: reader is pregnant, mentions of nausea, throwing up, anxiety, vague mentions of intimate relations, cats

wordcount: 2.1 k

a/n: just a random idea i had and thought might be cute

you come home a bit later than usual, the smell of something delicious wafting in the air, welcoming you as you step inside your cozy home. you walk in and spot wonwoo in the kitchen, busy stirring something in a pot as you discard your bag on the couch, spotting oreo, wonwoo's cat curled up on the other end in a peaceful slumber.

you slowly make your way towards wonwoo. "hey", you say, as you stand next to him, leaning your head on his shoulder. "hi love", he responds immediatily as he presses a soft kiss to your temple as you nod. "long day?", he asks, taking in your tired expression as you nod your head.

"you're home early", you point out, as you hook your arm around his, watching him stir the pot of soup carefully so that the ingredients wouldn't stick to the bottom and burn.

"yeah, i wanted to surprise you", he says, looking at you. you smile at his words and he smiles back at you. you let go of his arm and busy yourself with setting up the table. you and wonwoo had sweet love story and were now living a happy married life, and you couldn't ask for anyone else to spend it with. wonwoo was just your person and you were his.

but wonwoo's cat on the other hand was another story. you could say that she didn't really have a thing for you. oreo had never bonded with you, and you were only allowed to give her the occasional pet before she'd walk off, uninterested in you. orea never got cuddly with you like she did with wonwoo. you were bummed at first but you decided that maybe she'd grow into you later it. but it looked like you were just going to be a side character to her.

wonwoo asks you about your day as you both eat, but he's also acutely aware of how little food you've served yourself and how you've barely touched the soup he made. "not hungry?", he prompts after a while. "i am, i'm just a little tired", you tell, feeling a bit bad because wonwoo had made your favorite soup and you barely felt like eating it. you force yourself to have at least a few spoonfuls of the spoon and finish up your rice.

it's two am and you wake up feeling nauseous so you sit up, hoping that would ease the feeling but it didn't. it was like wonwoo was so in tune with you that he could always tell when you're awake and you heard him stir beside you. "are you okay love?", he asks, his voice laced with sleep.

"just a little nauseous", you tell softly, feeling umcomfortable.

"should i make you some peppermint tea?", he asks, now sitting up beside you. he doesn't wait for your answer as he heads to the kitchen to make it for you regardless. he comes up and places the steaming mug of peppermint tea on your bedside table, as he sits down next to you. his hand finds yours as he laces his fingers in your hand, looking at you, worried. after a few sips of the tea, you feel slightly better and you're now cuddled in wonwoo's arms as you lay your head on his chest, his hands holding you safe from the world.

you feel the bed dip again as oreo, wonwoo's cat jumps on the bed, walking towards you both. you look at her, ready for her to go towards wonwoo but instead, she comes up to you and settles next to you. "baby are you seeing this", you tell, shocked. "looks like she's finally warming up to you", he jokes and it was like oreo understood and she meows as she looks at you before curling up beside you.

you fall asleep only to wake up an hour late as you rush into the bathroom and throw up, feeling horrible and absolutely terrible. you feel wonwoo's hand on your back a few moments later as he rubs it gently to help you. he then helps you up and you clean yourself up before he helps you back in bed.

that whole week, you battle with nausea, throwing up either in the morning or night, and feeling tired and fatigued all of a sudden. you try to brush it off, blaming it on the stress or just the flu, but wonwoo insists on going to the doctor to figure out what is going on.

you take a sick leave the next day and you're sitting on the couch, scrolling through your phone when oreo comes up to you again, sitting on your stomach, giving you a little meow as she closes her eyes and goes into her meditation. you smile, feeling like you were being blessed by her presence lately. she'd started to get cuddly with you the past week and you were surprised but happy because otherwise you were going to think she was going to hate you forever.

you're aimlessly scrolling through your phone when you come across a video of a cat sitting on a lady, much like how oreo was sitting on you and as the video goes on, the lady explains how she found out she was pregnant because her cat started to get extra cuddly with her. your brain pauses and you glance at oreo, who's in a peaceful slumber on your stomach. you quickly open google, typing in if cats can tell if a person is pregnant and you gulp as you read articles and information that shows up and things slowly start adding up in your mind. this would explain all the nausea, the weird mood swings you've been having and the fatigue you've been experiencing the past two weeks. oh my god.

you gently move oreo off you, apologising to her as you grab a coat and slip on your shoes, heading to the nearest pharmacy to buy a pregnancy test. you buy two to give yourself the benefit of the doubt and now you're in your bathroom as you wait for the results of pregnancy tests. you stand a few steps back, nervous to see the results.

sure, you and wonwoo had talked about having kids of your own and it was something you both did want. you both had also taken care and been careful whenever you were intimate with each other. but now as you stand in the bathroom all alone, a feeling of dread engulfs you and pools in your stomach. you move towards the countertop and look at yourself in the mirror. it was going to be okay you thought ou close your eyes and take a deep breath and you finally find the courage to look down at the pregnancy tests laid out in front of you. you blink down as you see two lines on them bioth and let out a shaky breath as you try to ground yourself.

you didn't tell wonwoo that evening, still trying to take everything in but mostly because you didn't know how to. you were unsure and scared. but when he comes home tonight, you can't seem to hold onto this secret anymore as it seems to be eating you alive. when he comes home later that evening, you're quick to greet him as he shrugs off his blazer, his eyes lighting up when he sees you. you give him a kiss as you ask him about his day. he walks into the bedroom to change and you follow him. "what's going on in that pretty little mind of yours", he asks as he loosens his tie and takes off his watch. "how do you know something is going on?", you ask. "because you only follow me around when you have something you want to get off your chest", he tells, coming towards you. you find it sweet that he's picked up on his piece of information and observed, he knew you too well.

"okay fine, i do have something to tell you", you say finally as you move closer to wonwoo. you look up at him and he patiently waits for you to speak. but as you're looking at him and trying to find the right words and how to get them out, you find yourself getting overwhelmed with emotion all of a sudden and you're tearing up. your gaze flickers to the side of the room and down before you look back up but wonwoo is keen to pick up on his.

"what's wrong sweetheart?", he asks as you try with all your might to hold the tears in, trying to blink back your tears, but you can't and they flow down your cheeks and before you know it you're crying. wonwoo pulls you into his arms, his hand running up and down your back softly in an attempt to soothe you. "did something happen?", he asks, worried as his gaze softens.

you sniffle as you look at him, still in his arms. "no- i-i- don't know why i'm crying god i feel like an idiot", you tell as wonwoo cups your face, gently wiping away your tears with his thumb. "you're not", he assures you and he holds your gaze as he looks at you sweetly, not forcing you to say anything.

he gently moves you to the bedside and sits you down looking at you deeply, a hit of worry laced in his gaze. you'd been off this entire week and he was worried.

"are you okay?", he asks again, gently as he looks at you, his hand intertwined in yours.

"i-im pregnant", you finally tell softly and in the quiet room it was like your words echoed in the air. wonwoo blinks at you and you can see the wave of emotion he goes through.

"i took a pregnancy test, two in fact and they both came back positive", you add, looking at wonwoo to see his reaction.

"you're pregnant", he repeats like he was testing how the words would sound on his lips. "we're pregnant", he says again and you nod.

"i'm pregnant", you tell, tearing up again. "we're pregnant", you say again.

you find yourself tearing up again and wonwoo cups your cheek. "but what if i'm not ready, i'm scared", you add softly and wonwoo is quick to embrace you in another hug.

"i think, no i know that you're going to be a great mother love", he tells. "and remember, you're not alone in this, i'm right here and i'll be here with you every step of the way", he adds as he hugs you tighter.

you pull away, looking at him and you smile. "i love you", you say. " i love you more", he says, making you smile.

"i can't believe we're going to be parents", he says in a soft excitement as he kisses your forehead.

"you know, oreo was the first one to know", you say and he furrows his brows in confusion.

"what do you mean?", he asks, his hands resting on waist. "that's why she's been so clingy and cuddly to me these last two weeks. she knew i was pregnant, cats can sense it", you explain and his interest is piqued by this piece of information. "should we make a bet on if oreo's going to befriend our kid or not", he says and you snort, chuckling at his suggestion. god how you loved him and his silly antics. "i'm gonna bet she will befriend him, she already has technically", you add before leaning in wonwoo's chest again.

-bonus scene-

you're laying on the couch, now six months along your pregnancy and your bump is growing healthily. wonwoo's been so sweet and supportive throughout it all, from helping you when you were puking your guts out from morning sickness to getting you all your pregnancy cravings even if they were weird.

you hear the door open, wonwoo walking in with takeaway from your favourite cafe because you were craving a red velvet cake. he triumphantly lifts the bag as he walks in, putting it down on the table as he sees oreo perched on your belly.

"i think out kid is going to be a cat lover", wonwoo says. "imagine if they're not", you add as wonwoo hands you the cake box and you take it, the sweet smell already filling the air. you take a bit and sigh, content and offer wonwoo a bite.

just then you feel the baby kick and oreo looks alert, wondering where the little movement came from as she looks around and looks at you with a questioning look. "baby, did you see that?", you ask. the baby kicks again and oreo looks around again and glances at your belly before meowing at you and you chuckle. "aww she felt the kick", you tell. wonwoo smiles as he looks at you, his heart overflowing with love as he thinks about how lucky he is and how grateful he is

taglist: @biboramp3 @naaaaafla @slytherinshua @weird-bookworm @icyminghao @blue-jisungs @wootify @idubiluv @n4mj00nvq @joshuaahong @itsveronicaxxx @fallingforshua29 @frankenstein852 @lvlystars @mirxzii drop an ask if you want to be added to my permanant taglist!

1K notes · View notes

coolyiooo · 1 year ago

Text

BSD Men : Hooking Up As Enemies/ Rivals

Pairings: Dazai, Ranpo, Fyodor, Atsushi, Chuuya, and Sigma

❗WARNINGS❗: SMUT, MDNI, blindfold, scratching, degrading, praise, biting, pulling, breeding kink, whimpering, moaning, cock warming, overstimulation, choking, etc

🖤DAZAI 🖤

You never liked Dazai. If you were being honest the only thing you liked about him was his looks. Dazai was annoying, sneaky and treated you like shit which made the thought of him disgusting. He was never too fond of you either, yet he also found you pretty attractive. Thus you both somehow found yourselves having sex.

Dazai was on top of you with his cock thrusting deeply into you. He hit every sensitive part of you skillfully which made it hard for you to quiet your moans. Your wet, tight cunt made him grip onto the bed sheets. He didn't think you'd feel this fucking good and it was almost like you were made for his cock.

He was panting slightly "Squeezing me so tightly? And I thought you hated my guts ngh~ but now I'm literally in them~" he smirks

You felt embarrassed by his words and decided to flip yourself over to jump on his cock. You felt better seeing him beneath you and be in a more vulnerable position, but his smirk didn't go away

He put his hands on your hips and looked down to see his cock rub in and out of your tight pussy "Heh~ you look good jumping on my cock like a desperate whore"

"Shut up, It's because you weren't doing that good of a job so I had to take control" you struggled trying not to moan

"Is that so? Hah~ then let me make it up to you since I'm oh so sorry" He flipped you over again, this time pinning your arms above your head as he thrusted deeper into you making you slip out a loud moan

He smiles "You just didn't like me on top, huh? You didn't like how good my cock feels?" He teases you

You looked away from embarrassment and quietly said "Too.. deep- mmn~"

He smiles "Just be honest and say nobody has ever made you feel this good~"

You gave him a fiery look "Mmn~ Shut up and just fuck me"

He didn't like this attitude of yours and decided to just suddenly cock warm himself.

"Idiot, what are you doing?" You asked

"I just thought it'd be nice to hear you beg~ "

"Uh- there's no way" you gave him a disgusted look

He then does 4 deep, fast thrusts into you making you want more and whimper "Come on, tell me you want it~" he says in a low voice and a smirk

You grumbled and looked away. It took you a couple seconds to say something "please...don't stop"

"Hmm? Say it louder~" his smirk becomes wider

You looked at him with an angry look holding back from slapping him. You hate to admit it, but he really was the only man who's ever actually pleased you "please don't stop. I want more" you said trying not to sound too vulgar

He smiles and begins to fuck you relentlessly. His cock hitting deep inside you while throbbing. You both gasp a moan. His grip on your wrists tightened more as you arched your back. Your breasts becoming more perky and drawing his attention

"S-shit hah~ I guess your good with at least one thing" he groans

You started to smirk "Your throbbing so much mmn~ do I make you feel that good~?" You taunted

He then puts a hand around your throat as a way to shut you up, making you tightened more around him

He pants "Your about to cum aren't you?"

"Not even close" you managed to say

He tilts his head "Then this shouldn't be a problem for you"

His thrusts become animalistic and rough, hitting your g-spot which felt like every millisecond. You felt a huge wave of pleasure wash over you and felt your climax coming rapidly "AAH~! F-fuck- w-wait~!"You then came on his cock as you moaned loudly. Twitching and clenching around him.

He smiled while his cock throbbed "look at that~ cumming all over my cock? Ngh~ Didn't you just say I wasn't any good?"

You couldn't even form a sentence and just moaned loudly from over stimulation. Your pitiful moans drove him over the edge. He hated how amazing you felt and how he found his release so quickly "Fuck... Ngh~ fucking shit~!" He moans

With a couple more thrusts, he pulled out of you and came all over your body with a loud groan. His cum was on your stomach, chest, and face. You almost wanted to smirk at how much he came from having sex with you, but you were still calming down from your own climax, too out of breath to make a snarky comment

He smirks while panting "You look prettier with my cum all over you"

You looked at him "I liked you better when you were moaning loudly like a little bitch"

He laughs "That's rich coming from you~"

"Fuck you"

He chuckles "Feel free to come back anytime if you want more~"

"Why on earth would I ever want more from you? Oh I see.. it's you who wants more"

"Only temporarily obviously... Don't act like you don't like the idea of it, princess~"

💚RANPO💚

You and Ranpo almost had the same relationship as him and Poe. They're rivals yet enjoy each other's company. Like Poe you tried to find ways to surpass Ranpo but instead you try to become a better detective. You know it might be impossible, but it's your goal. It was like you and Ranpo were constantly in a competition without hating each other completely. You actually quite liked eachother, but you didn't want to admit that.

One night things escalated and one thing led to another.You were both on a bed as you rode Ranpo's cock. His hands were stuck to your waist and your hands were on his chest to keep you balanced. You were both in pure bliss, moaning and whimpering from the sweet sensation.

"Yea~ so good~ mmn~! More~" Ranpo moaned while throwing his head back

"Its good to know that I can at least put you in this state- mmn~! I'm the only one who can make you like this~" you teased

He just kept whimpering. His hands that were on your waist were trembling from ecstasy. You softly chuckle "Who knew that the world's greatest detective could be such a whimpering mess~"

He slowly starts to smirk "And no other man has ever felt this good huh~? Hah~ It pretty obvious"

You were taken aback from his blunt words. "Ah~! I can say the same when I'm also the only one who's made you like this~" he says while smiles

He sat up by using his elbows to get a better look at you. His tone was deep as he teased you "Don't act so high and mighty~ ngh~!"

You scoff and look down. You hated how right he always was, but then an idea came to your mind. You realized that if there's one thing that makes Ranpo weak it's praise, so you decided to use that against him

You spoke "Your one to talk.. your lucky you feel amazing~"

You saw Ranpo gulp and blush. He smiled softly from the comment. You decided to keep going. You made him sit up to wrap your arms around him and to moan in his ear. Your hand gently pulling on his hair "Your doing such a good job~ ngh~! Such a good boy~ ah~! I can't get enough of you~ mnn~! Your so big and deep~"

You felt his cock throb violently. His whimpers became more loud. It turned you on how you were becoming too much for him to handle. He laid his chin on your shoulder while moaning uncontrollably.

You chuckled gently "The simplest words are enough to drive you crazy~ it's so cute~ yet pathetic" you kissed his ear, making him twitch

He chuckle gently while looking at you "What's pathetic is that you did this expecting me to beg for more of you in the future, but the truth is it's you who will beg for me"

You looked at him offended until he spoke again "Don't be so upset it's not like I'm complaining- ngh~! Not one bit~!"He whispers in your ear "You do feel amazing~ this is the best I've ever felt"

His praise made you crazy. Your cunt twitched as you whimpered against his neck. He smiles "I see even the simplest words make you crazy too"

You began to jump faster on his cock. Both of you moaned louder as you both felt your orgasms coming quickly "Y-yeah~ I'm so close~ i-im going to- ah~! So close~!" Ranpo moaned

"Me too~! Mmn~! Keep going~!"

You both held onto eachother tightly. The sensation was undescribable and incomparable to anything you both have ever felt in your lives. With a few deep, fast thrusts. Ranpo whimpered extremely loudly as he came inside you. His whole body trembling an insane amount. His whimper instantly made you cum with him. Your cunt tightly squeezing the cum out of him and covering his cock with your cum.

While still holding onto eachother you both laid limp onto the bed. Your head on his chest. You could hear his heart beat rapidly. You were both panting heavily and slowly becoming sleepy

"We can do this again tomorrow" Ranpo said in a soft voice

You looked at him shocked but deep down you were happy. He smirks "I already knew you were going to ask so"

You pushed yourself off him "Fuck off"

He laughs while playfully poking your cheek over and over again "Just admit it! your obsessed with me~"

You slapped his hand away while blushing "Fuck you!"

💜FYODOR💜

Your from the ADA and somehow you've found your enemy to be attractive. You hated yourself for it, but the heart wants what it wants. You and Fyodor had an interesting relationship. He too also found you attractive and fascinating, but that didn't stop you from trying to put the guy in jail or him trying to eliminate you.

One night you were fed up and it lead you to finding him in the middle of the night for a hookup. He gave in easily which surprised you, but then again nobody really knows Fyodor, maybe he only agreed because it was part of some plan he has.

You were both on a bed. Fyodor was on top of you as he heavenly fucked you. Your arms wrapped around his neck and his hands on your hips. If he really wanted to, he would kill you in one second, but you just felt too good he couldn't bring himself to do it. His cock hit all your sweet spots and your wet, tight cunt perfectly rubbed his dick.

Your soft moans were music to his ears"My, my, someone sure is enjoying themselves, hm~?" Fyodor smirks

You clenched his hair "Your one to talk- ah~ your twitching so much agh~ I don't think any woman has ever touched you"

"hmm~ I don't sleep around like you, dear~"

Your eyebrows furrowed "I'm not a slut- mmn~" you moaned while arching your back

He chuckles "It seems like you are for me~ coming to my door and begging like one ah~"

You grumbled "Shut up- mph~"

He then used his thumb to rub your clit. You moaned louder and instinctively wrapped your legs around his body to push him deeper inside you, making you tighter "Your really clamping down ngh~ do I make you feel that good~?" He teases

You looked away in embarrassment "Use your words" he whispers in your ear tauntingly

You didn't respond. He shrugs his shoulders "If that's how you want to play, then..." His thrusts became faster and rough. His cock hitting deep inside you and feeling amazing. You moan louder. He tried to hide his moans and all you felt was his cock throbbing more.

You felt your climax coming quickly"I- I'm gonna- ah~! slow d-down~!" You held onto his shoulder tightly Just as you were about to cum, Fyodor pulled himself out. You looked at him confused

He smiles sinisterly "Beg for it, dear~ just like how you did earlier today"

You scoffed "You really think I'd beg for you?"

"Judging by the way your body quivers, and how you wrap your arms and legs around me. I'd say you will"

Your eye twitched. He brought his face coser to yours. Your foreheads almost touching He tilted his head to the side slightly "No man has ever made you feel this grand~"

You chuckle "I bet you didn't even think sex would feel this good, mudak"

(Translation: asshole )

"Hm? I guess we're done here then" he was getting up to leave, but you grabbed his wrist. His eyes looking at your face that was in defeat

You grumbled as you looked down "Please..Fuck me. Please don't stop"

He held your chin to make you look at him "Why should I?"

"B-because... It feels good" you said trying not to sound disgusted

He smiled widely. All of a sudden he plunged his cock inside you again. You both moaned in satisfaction from the pleasure of being one again. He continues his fast, rough pace. Somehow the pleasure being more intense than before. You loudly moaned from the sensation. You felt your orgasm approaching again

"Ngh~! look at you screaming for me~ let's do it together shall we?" Fyodor grunts

You couldn't form sentences. The more Fyodor looked at the state he's put you in, the faster he felt his climax coming. You both couldn't hold on any longer from the pleasure

He gripped your hips harshly "Ngh~! T-trakhni menya~" he grunted before he came deep inside you

(Translation: Fuck me)

The instant you felt your cunt being filled by his hot cum, you came with him while moaning. Your bodies were only washed over by ecstacy. Twitching and breathing heavily was all you two could do. He looked down to your cum filled cunt "Kak chudesno.. taking it all in" he groans softly

(Translation: how wonderful )

A few seconds after he said that, he pulled out of you and plopped next to you trying to catch his breath. You looked at him while panting "Don't look so pleased.. you look pathetic when you cum"

He chuckles and smirks at you "If I recall, you were the one that was begging for me twice tonight. Seems hypocritical, don't you think?"

You looked at him irritated. You knew he was right. You protested "Well this is the first and last time we'll ever do this"

He got closer to your face and in a deep voice, he said "unfortunately, we both know that's not the case"

💙ATSUSHI💙

You were part of the Mafia and Atsushi was part of the ADA. You two have fought eachother every once in awhile, but something about him made you soft, maybe it's because he's actually very sweet, but there's no way you'd ever admit to that. He always got in the way of your plans and it frustrated the hell out of you

Not like he thought of you any different. He didn't like how much of a horrible person you can be, but sometimes he's seen a soft side of you that he believe can be turned into good. You both just found each other fascinating and irritating, yet here you are on a bed.

You were both naked. He was on top of you with his forehead on your shoulder. He thrusted into you at a normal speed, almost tender and soft but he still hit the deepest parts of you. Your wet cunt soaked his cock and made it easy for him to slip in and out of you. One of your arms were in his hair and the other on his back. You both moaned from the pleasure

"Mmn~! W-we shouldn't be doing this- ah~!" He moans against your skin.

He looked worried, but he was just overwhelmed by the pleasure

"Yea, but it's too late to back out now Mmn~! it feels good, doesn't it~?" You responded, tilting your head slightly to get a better look at him

His grip tightened on the sheets "Y-yeah it feels ah~! A-amazing~! But- ngh~!"

"We can stop if you want- ah~ it's just I'll be unsatisfied mmn~"

He moves his head away from your shoulder to get a better look at you "N-no, I can't stop now~ mph~! Even if I wanted to~"

His thrusts became faster making you both moan in ecstasy as you reach closer to your climaxes"Why? Ngh~! Why you out of all people? Ah~" he asks mostly to himself

You scoffed "Mmn~! I ask myself the same thing"

"You've killed and tortured mmn~ yet I can't bring myself to stop~!" He was clearly feeling some type of guilt, but the body wants what it wants

You responded "Not like your any better- ngh~ your such a pushover agh~ your so fucking sensitive" you paused for a second before finishing your sentence "B-but I just can't stay away~ ngh~"

He looks into your eyes slightly surprised. He knows you have a soft spot and he wishes you brought it out more. His thrusts became needy and more vulgar. His thighs slapping against your thighs, hitting your g-spot over and over. You arched your back as you clawed his skin

He felt his release "I c-can't hold it anymore~ ah~! too good~! I-im- ngh~ something's coming~!" He moaned loudly

You held tightly onto him "Just like that~ i-im going to cum~!"

A few more strokes into your wet, warm cunt. He didn't want to make a mess on your body he pulled out and came onto his hand with a loud whimper. His hand was covered in so much of his own cum and you wished it was all over you or maybe even filling up inside you. You came right after him while moaning.

You both stood still in place panting heavily. Atsushi looks at his hand and clean it up with a tissue that's by the bed. He gave some to you too.After you cleaned yourselves up, you looked at him while blushing "Do you mind if I come back tomorrow?"

He jolts slightly from the question and looks away "We shouldn't, but.." he gulps before looking at you "Yeah, I'd like that"

🧡CHUUYA🧡

You knew Chuuya by working long enough at the ADA to learn about him. You knew he was part of the Mafia and his ability, but you both had a difficult relationship. You both didn't hate eachother, but it was hard to get along. You don't know why or how y'all started to fight with each other so often, but it's a regular thing. Regardless of your relationship, you found eachother attractive and thus found yourselves hooking up on this night.

You were both on the bed. Chuuya was on top of you as he thrusted roughly into you. At this rate when you wake up tomorrow you won't even be able to close your legs. Your arms were clawing his back which he found such a turn on. You both moaned from the euphoric sensation

"D-damnit it~ why are you so tight for, huh?" He struggled to say without moaning

You chuckle "Heh~ you can't handle me or what, bitch-? AH!"

Chuuya suddenly sunk his teeth into your neck to shut your snarky comment. You tightened from the bite and he twitched "Agh~ It seems like your the one that can't handle me"

You pull his hair roughly making him moan loudly "Ngh~! F-fucking hell!"

His pace became faster which made you squirm a bit and moan. He held your hips still with his hands "D-dont squirm so much! you'll make me- ngh~!" He moans

You smirk "Your throbbing so much Chuuya~ what's the matter? Mmn~ Does it feel that good~?" You taunted

He grumbles "Shut up ngh~ your literally soaking the sheets"

You decided to flip over and get on top of him "Hey! Who said you could- NGH~!"

You cut off his sentence by jumping on his cock. He gripped harshly on your hips as he closed his eyes tightly from the sensual pleasure

"Mmn~ You look kinda cute like this, Chuuya~" you moaned looking down at his pathetic state

His eyebrows furrowed as he grumbled "Ah~ don't ever call me that"

"Fine mnn~ your adorable~" you poked his cheek

His cheeks blushed red as he suddenly flipped you over and got back on top of you. His thrusts were vulgar and deep. You both moaned loudly. The bed shook violently. Your arms were wrapped around eachother. Your arched your back when you felt his cock hit your g-spot and moaned loudly

He smirks "Screaming from my cock~? Fuck~ so fucking good~ seems like your actually good at something"

You digged your nails into his shoulders "I-im gonna- ah~!" You moaned

His eyes were drunk with pleasure "Yeah~? me too ngh~ where do you want it?"

You grunted "O-outside, you idiot- mmn~!"

After a couple deep thrusts he pulled out and stroked his cock, shooting hot, sticky cum all over your body with a loud grunt. You saw his cock throbbed aggressively as it squirted cum. The sight alone made you cum with him. Your body twitched as you moaned from your release

You were both breathing heavily. He plopped next to you and got some napkins from the table next to the bed and gave them to you to clean yourself. You both laid there and stared at the ceiling still trying to calm down from the climax

"We're never doing that, again" Chuuya pants

"Fuck no. Never again" you responded

What a god damn lie

💛SIGMA💛

You and Sigma know each other for being part of the Decay of Angels and didn't really get along. Sigma had a hard time trusting people especially since you were part of the Decay of Angels. Right from the beginning he never fully trusted you and because of that he was very distant and cold towards you

You weren't any different though. You were also being used for the decay of angels and didn't really trust Sigma. The relationship between you two was secretly hating the other with no real reason, but one day you were both really frustrated and needed a distraction

It kind of just happened yet you couldn't really understand how it happened when you were both on the couch naked. You were straddling him while jumping on his cock. His hands were caressing your thighs. Your hands were in his hair sometimes pulling it and making him groan. Your tight, wet, warm cunt rubbed his cock addictively as you kept jumping on it. The tip of his cock hitting the deepest parts of your pussy. It felt amazing

Sigma looks down to see his cock slide in and out of you "Ah~! f-fuck~ j-just like that~" he moans

"So good~ I didn't expect you to be this amazing~" you responded while arching your back

He furrows his eyebrows "S-shut up~ mmn~ I know your just fucking with me mph~ using me as a toy"

You looked into his eyes "So are you- ngh~ don't act all innocent agh~! your loving this aren't you?"

He looked slightly stunned for a second "W-well.. ngh~! I guess we're both even- ah~!"

Suddenly your pace became faster. His cock throbbing aggressively as his whole body twitched from every touch from you "Your so sensitive~ mnn~! have you never been touched before~?" You asked teasingly

He blushed more and looked down "W-why would it matter? Your talking too much- ngh~!"

You wrapped your arms around his neck "Don't be so embarrassed~ ah~ it's actually pretty cute~" you smirked

He became embarrassed "C-cute? I said to s-shut up didnt I?"

He was tired of hearing your talk, after all, he just wanted a distraction. You listened to his small request and stopped talking. You thought of a kinky idea and decided to cover his eyes with your hands. He couldn't see, but he focused more on the pleasure of your cunt. He let out a loud whimper and unintentionally used his hands to move your hips faster. His cock throbbed and ached as he felt his climax coming

"A-ah~! Mmn~ f-faster~!" He moaned while his head fell back exposing his throat more

You moaned more from the quick pace and smirked by how cute he was "So lewd~ ah~!"

"G-gonna c-cum~! Don't stop~!" He whimpered loudly

You kept doing with what you were doing also feeling your climax coming. After a few more thrusts, Sigma gasps before cumming deep inside you with a loud whimper and digging his nails into your skin. You tugged on his hair when you felt his cock shoot cum, making you cum with him and moaned. Both of you quivering from the insane amount of pleasure rushing throughout your body.

You laid limp against him and roved your hand from his eyes. Both of you were breathing heavily. You moved your head slightly to get a better look at his face

"If you ever need another release don't be afraid to come to me" you quietly said

He looks down at you with blushed cheeks. He stared into your eyes with a small amount of worry for awhile before gulping and responding. He nodded "Alright"

2K notes · View notes

macfrog · 5 months ago

Text

twin flame sex on fire chapter eleven

thank you all for being so patient and kind, and loving this story no matter how terribly long i take with it. anyway, here's wonderwall. (shout out to @bageldaddy who saved this on numerous occasions lmao)

pairing: ceo!joel x fem!reader

summary: doing it with a broken heart is harder than it looks.

warnings: age gap (reader is late 20s, joel late 40s), workplace relationship, imbalance of power dynamic, reader's a Real Tough Kid she can (not) Handle Her Shit, kale!!!!!!, alcohol consumption, cursing, soft!joel, fluff and angst. angst angst angst angst

word count: 7.7k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 💚

Five days lasts a year.

So it feels, anyway, when you spot Martha from the corner of your eye – pulling her coat on and hooking her purse over her shoulder. She tucks her peroxide blonde layers behind her ears, gives one last check of her makeup in a compact mirror, and looks up.

“You coming?”

It’s five thirty on Friday. You haven’t said more than two words to Joel since you walked out on him, Monday morning.

She knows by now – Martha. Or at least, she has a pretty good idea.

You haven’t told her, as if you’d even be able to begin explaining it all. But she pieced it together by herself, didn’t she? You’re hardly subtle. She figured you out less than five minutes after you stormed out of his office, fists balled and face tight with rage.

She says your name, and the sound is muffled. Distorted by the sour backwash of that feeling: the hot temper which dissipated so quickly into an ache behind your ribs all day.

You finally look up. “Huh?”

She fixes the collar on her trench coat. Flattens her thin, merlot lips and says, “Let’s go, kid. It’s been a long week.”

And that, you think, might just be the understatement of the fucking year.

She slips her arm through yours in the elevator, and you don’t protest. It’s not like she’d let you go even if you tried to shake her off – but there’s a comfort to it. Something sweet; soft and motherly. Martha’s not often this affectionate.

You want to slot your cheek on her shoulder. Ask her how long her worst heartbreak lasted. Ask if that’s even what this is, if you can give a two-month hurricane of sex and secrets enough power to split you open this badly.

Ask her how long until the gnawing in your chest eases. How long until you’re finally able to look at him again, without wanting to cuss him out – or run into his arms.

But you stare ahead, swaying with the dropping elevator, wrap your arms tight around yourself and swallow shallow breaths of her rosy perfume.

Your reflection splits in two, pulled apart by the rumble of the doors. Something akin to a growl from between Martha’s teeth.

The skeleton of the lobby sears behind your eyes, every surface bleeding gold. Silver arrows of rain pelt against the windows, slicing through the blazing sunlight. Dark figures shake umbrellas open at the doors; others yank their collars over their heads as they run to cars.

A gaggle of square suits separates to let you pass, black material shining and soaked through. Nodding to both of you, your names dripping from their lips as they load into the elevator.

Under the canopy outside, Martha hoists her purse over her head.

“Monday then?” she yells over the drumming rain. And without waiting for an answer – because she isn’t so much asking as she is telling – she totters off through the drizzle towards Alan’s Volvo.

One last glance over her shoulder, a wink as her six-inch heels swing into the car. Like a Bond girl, off to wrangle her preteen into eating his vegetables.

You call a cab, leaning against the building to watch the clouds roll overhead.

Two words. That’s all you’ve managed to force over your tongue.

Sure and okay. Both uttered between teeth, as though your body might be trying to hold them back. Mundane and fucking meaningless; pushing by everything else you want so desperately for Joel to hear. How could you? Why would you? I think I hate you, you know that?

I hate you and I miss you so much that it makes me hate you all over again for it.

He’s doing as you asked, at least. He’s following your rules. No looking, no touching, no talking.

To a point.

He is still talking – saying a little more to you than you are to him. You’re allowing it, given that he is still your boss and they’re only ever boss things to say. Schedule this meeting, look out that old file. Pick up his drycleaning when it’s mid-afternoon and he spots your boredom from across the office.

But he never comes near.

Not anymore.

He doesn’t brush by, stealing a giggle when his elbow nudges your waist. He doesn’t order you lunch, then wait until you’re sat opposite him in his office to eat together.

He doesn’t kiss you as soon as the elevator doors close. He doesn’t perch on the edge of your desk to steal snacks and gossip with you and Martha. He doesn’t play with your hand, he doesn’t hold you by the hips, he doesn’t whisper dirty jokes and sweet nothings in your ear.

He keeps his distance. He acts like your boss again.

And – Jesus. You’ve never wanted to hate him so much in your life.

“Waitin’ for a cab?”

“Shit –” You twirl, rain flicking from the tail of your coat.

Joel takes your arm steady. His grip is so familiar, so safe you feel yourself melting into it already. “Easy, easy,” he says, his voice much the same. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to sneak up on you there.”

“You didn’t, you…Yeah,” you sigh, “I guess you did. What did you say?”

He smiles. It’s weak, humored, but completely unsure. “I just asked if you’re waiting for a cab.

And goddamn it, just the sight of him this close thaws you from the inside out. It’s like warmth against the wound, softening you like the creases by the corners of his eyes.

“Yeah,” you start, “I just called one. Figure there’s traffic.” You gesture to the bodies scurrying down towards yellow cabs.

Joel tosses his thumb over his shoulder, pointing to the sleek Rolls by the curb. The rain bounces off its roof. “Rand can take you, if you like. Save you waitin’.”

“Oh, no. No, I’m good, thanks.”

“I’ll take your cab,” he clarifies. “I’ll take the cab; Rand can take you home.”

“Really, Joel,” you reply, hugging your purse. “It’s okay. I’ll be okay. Thank you.”

He nods, looking down. There was – there is – nothing he wants more than to look out for you. There’s probably nothing that stings more right now, than the fact you won’t let him.

He makes to leave, then hesitates. Hands in his pockets, he turns back and says, “You ever need anything, just let me know. Alright?”

Your lips flatten. “Mhm.”

“I mean it.”

“I know you do.”

“Alright,” he says. “Okay. I’ll see you Monday.”

He strides off towards the Rolls. So much cooler than the suits scrambling around him; dipping his head as he slides into the backseat, fixing his tie before he pulls the door closed.

The car doesn’t move until yours arrives. Until he’s seen you run over, settle in the backseat. Rand pulls out behind as your driver sets off; turns in the opposite direction at the first set of traffic lights.

You watch as it shrinks into a speck from the back window, wondering if Joel’s watching you, too.

The driver tuts and shakes his head. He flicks his fingers to the windshield, some comment about this goddamn rain and ain’t let up for five goddamn days.

You fish your phone from your pocket, turning the weight of it over in your hands like turning the dilemma in your mind. Thinking up something like, Hey, I was gonna order food in tonight. Wanna come over?

Something like, Or not, if you don’t feel like it.

Sorry, I don’t even know why I’m –

The screen lights.

Your heart jumps to your throat.

The driver rambles on, “…said it’d dry by Wednesday – well, you can’t trust a damn one of ‘em…”

Your eyes are glued to the name onscreen.

Joel headers the first notification. And the second. A text, then an email.

Your thumbs hover over the messages for a few seconds, vision blurring around his name. Frantic circles while you decide whether or not you actually want to read them. But it gets the better of you – morbid curiosity – and you tap on the text.

As quickly as it leapt, your heart plummets.

Forwarded Jean-Marc’s email, in case you need it. Have a good weekend.

Three, four, five times. You read over it five fucking times before it sinks in. Switch to your emails, where Joel Miller sits proudly at the top of the list.

“Why are you…?” you mumble, blinking at the screen. Salt stings across your waterline. “You – you fucking…”

It boils through your veins, pools in the pit of your stomach. That ache winds again, twisting around your ribcage.

Anger.

Anger, and…something much worse.

You bite hard on your lip, refusing to let the tears spill over. Your heart hammers against your chest. Your fist balls, like tightening around the leash of a misbehaving dog, pulling it back into place.

Your voice is barely a whisper.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Steam slowly swallows your silhouette whole. In the mirror, you shake the shell of the office from your shoulders, watching as she disappears entirely behind the heated glass. Relieved just to see her go.

You sob under the scorching stream until your skin prunes and your head throbs. You order in food and burrow deep in your couch to pick at it.

Drowning in the same hoodie he once pulled over himself – his landscape of a body, strong as rock and soft as the earth. The material unwashed, still smelling of mint and men’s cologne.

You thumb through the chick flicks on offer: all perfect grins and power couples; the commercial dream that is a two-tone poster with a quirky, conversational title. And then, worse: the breakup movies.

Women flat-out in bed, picking from a tray of chocolates. Two-day pajamas and three-day bedhead. Slumber parties to burn love letters and gauge out their exes’ eyes in photographs, swear themselves off men and then down heavy cocktails until they puke.

Then – the epiphany. Right before some pop rock track from the noughties sends the heroine off into the sunset. The I’m better off without him, or Maybe he wasn’t so bad moment.

Love truly exists, after all. Roll end credits.

“Oh, fuck off,” you mumble, chewing wetly on popcorn. “You’re all bullshit, anyways.”

Maybe you’re just fucking miserable. You liked the bullshit, two weeks ago.

Blake Carter – he was chocolates in bed and feminist handshakes. He was one night at your mom’s, one night at your best friend’s, then back in your old place before the week was out.

This is different. It’s like a sickness.

Rotting from the inside out. Deep in your chest, a fierce fever spreading from the split, the empty cage of ribs. An anxiety which gathers and festers in the barren corners, like teetering along a wire with no idea how high the drop really is – only that you’re not going to make the landing.

How were you ever going to make the landing, letting go of his hand like that?

You manage three mouthfuls of a greasy hamburger, then shove the bags across the coffee table. Too sick and too unsettled to eat without feeling it roll around your stomach in a furious tide.

You ever need anything, just let me know.

Asking for help is not something you do. Not since you were sixteen, and even before then. There is nothing – nothing, you swore – a man could offer you that you couldn’t go find yourself.

But then – then, you found someone who wasn’t looking for you to ask. Didn’t want or expect you to need him for anything, only wanted you to know that he was around if you ever did. Being near you was all he ever really gave a shit about.

You found someone who was on your tail every time you looked back. All your running, all the times you swore you wouldn’t let him catch you. And there you were – turning to make sure he was still trying.

He was. He was always trying. He’s the closest anyone ever came to proving you wrong.

And now…he’s letting you go.

If you had the energy to laugh, you’d laugh. You’d march back into the bathroom and wait for your reflection to clear again, just to point your finger right in her face.

The same woman who walked away from Blake Carter and his heirloom diamond ring; from Sundays forcing down quiche Lorraine at his parents’ house, and pretending to enjoy bouncing his nephew on your knee.

The same woman who left that diamond ring on his bedside table, packed a bag full of clothes, and fled the apartment before he could plead anymore.

The same woman who had seen the entire thing as a bird breaking free from her cage, in the end.

You understand it now.

You spend long enough in that cage, long enough planted on your feet – you forget how to use your wings.

The weekend is slow and sleepless.

Your sheets wind up a twisted mess each night. Kicked to the foot of the bed, cocooned back around your shoulders, then whipped from your body again when you feel too hot, too smothered.

He’s all over your apartment. Dozing in the reflection of the TV screen, bass voice reverberating off each wall, kisses in the clinking of mugs.

Each night, you stare blankly at the ceiling. Sleep becomes a tide you float on the surface of, pooling across your stomach and only ever wetting to your ears. Face skyward, bone dry. Desperately waiting for a wave that never intends on turning.

Come Monday, you’re running on something like four hours sleep and as many coffees.

Martha recognizes it instantly, the way she fawns. She hasn’t let up all day. Not since you walked in this morning, looking like shit and avoiding Joel’s office at all costs. She’s spent more time staring, delivering snacks, making sickly-sweet conversation that hurts your teeth – than she has actually working.

And it was touching. Until ten o’clock.

Joel has two assistants for good fucking reason, it turns out.

“I do not understand a goddamn word I’m reading…” Martha flips the Cosmo she stole from you last week. “The hell is a retrograde?”

Your head tilts. “Do you even know which sign you are?”

Her thin, penciled brows quirk. “Taurus, but I don’t like the way this bull’s lookin’ at me.”

She wiggles her mouse before the monitor switches off, then prods a shard of cucumber with her fork. The rain scatters across the window at her back, dragging golden shadows down her blazer.

“Did you eat today?” she asks.

“Mhm,” you lie, “This morning. Before you came in.”

She chews suspiciously. “Liar.” She offers you the salad bowl. “Eat.”

“Martha,” you push it away, “I’m not –”

“I don’t care whether you’re hungry.”

She thrusts the tub towards you, cherry tomatoes trembling.

“Martha.”

“Eat.”

“I’m not gonna eat your salad, will you stop –?”

“One bite. Just one.”

“I don’t even like –”

She’s holding out a forkful. “Eat the damn –”

“Get a drink with me.”

She halts, greens dangling in front of your face. Her expression twists, loosens, and then twists into bewilderment again. “Pardon me?”

You sigh, deflating into the leather. “Stop tryna force feed me salad, and get a drink with me.”

“On a Monday?” She scoffs. “What’s the occasion?”

“I don’t…I don’t have one,” you groan, pushing to your feet. “At least, not a good one. I just need something a little stronger than kale.”

An all too familiar click over your shoulder plucks her attention. Her eyes flash across the room.

She tracks Joel from his office over to the water cooler, a forced smile when he must glance up. Her eyes snap back to yours at the trickle of water into his mug.

Please? you mouth, and she grumbles.

“Joel?”

His voice is strained; he’s bending at the cooler. “Yep?”

Martha links her arm through yours and forces you to turn. “You mind if we take a long lunch? We were thinking of trying that wine bar up by the golf course.”

Joel lingers on the other side of the office, sipping from his mug. He’s almost unrecognizable: no bear left in him. Declawed, toothless. Dark crescents like the shadows of a bruise beneath his eyes, the ghosts of smile lines on his cheeks.

“Wine bar?” he asks. “Didn’t even know there was one up that way.”

“It’s new,” Martha says, popping the lid back on her salad bowl. “Alan told me about it. Says it costs an arm and a leg, but apparently, it’s worth it.”

He wanders over – hesitant, like approaching the desk of a wild animal. You can feel the heat of his stare on you when he replies, “’s nice up that way. Take the afternoon. You need a ride?”

“All good,” Martha chirps. She squeezes your arm. “I’ll go call a cab.”

She drapes your coat over your shoulders, then twirls off in the direction of the elevator. A girlish little strut, quietly pleased with herself.

She’s deliberately leaving you stranded. Both of you.

Joel steps back when you move. His breath catches in his throat. He slips a hand in one pocket, and says, “Be nice to have a relaxing afternoon.”

“Yep,” you choke, elbow brushing against his. “Nice to have some girl time, I guess.”

“Oh,” he sniffs, “I was talking about me. Empty office, two of you off my ass. Peace and quiet.”

You smile, feeling the weight of him rock gently against your side. “Hilarious,” you murmur, glancing up at him.

He stares straight ahead, sunlight catching rare amber in his eyes. Smiling to himself, calm and content, he says, “Have a good night. I’ll see you tomorrow,” and turns back for his office.

Your chest twinges as he closes the door behind him. A tight fist around your vocal cords.

“See you tomorrow, Joel.”

Oasis is a trendy little bar out west, which looks anything but its namesake. All exposed brick and smirk of silver pipework, industrially rustic and injected with the silky scent of wine and wealth.

Exactly the type of place you’d go to get over your millionaire ex.

Martha slinks in like she’s made of the place. Coat loose over her arm, hips swaying and heels clicking. She hops onto a stool at the bar, drums her glossy nails on the varnished wood.

You settle awkwardly into the stool beside her, prodding at what turns out to be a very real cactus. You jump at the sharp prick.

A waiter behind the bar clocks you, and laughs to himself.

“Nice, huh?” Martha asks, scanning the place. The low-hanging lights, the spill of foliage from the rafters. She seems to fit into it a whole lot better than you do.

“Sure,” you mumble around your fingertip, “Are you buying?”

She rolls her eyes. “You asked me out, remember?”

“I was thinking some two-for-one cocktails dive, not the fucking Ritz, Martha.”

“Call it a pick-me-up,” she says, accepting a menu from the waiter. “We’re treating ourselves.”

You pinch your fingertip, watching a scarlet bead bloom from the wound. A satisfying sort of pain, a tender break your hands won’t stay away from. You squeeze until it balloons into a trembling bubble of blood, then swipe the cut clean. Squeeze, then swipe.

Martha orders some vino she says she’s always wanted to try. Two glasses, because when the waiter looks to you to take your order, you’re still staring at your bloody finger.

He slides the drinks over and smiles politely, eyes daring to meet yours only twice. He’s handsome: chiseled jawline and the smudge of a dimple on one cheek. Chin speckled with stubble, shorter and blonder than you’d like.

Your fingertip throbs, and you look down to find it closed in your fist. You take a gulp of wine.

Martha smacks her lips and hums. “Not half bad,” she says, and then slots her glass next to yours. “Alright,” she clasps her hands, “What is it? What’s been goin’ on?”

You spin the base of your glass, staring at the swirl of honeysuckle. “I just needed some air and…wine.”

She buys it about as much as you do.

“Only one thing in the world that makes me need air and wine,” she says. “A man.”

A laugh flutters from your chest, as if by accident. As natural as the sun splitting the clouds. No thinking about it, no forcing it.

Either the expensive alcohol works fast – or Martha does.

She lifts her nose, like sniffing out the truth. “Come on, no bullshit. Why’d you ask me to get a drink?”

It rolls from one shoulder to the other in a tired shrug. You’ve no fucking idea why you asked her to get a drink.

The office was becoming claustrophobic, bursting with the grief of it all. Joel was nowhere to be seen and yet everywhere you looked. Here’s the wall he’d kissed you against, there’s the spot you’d first shaken hands.

Here’s all of it, really: the shame and the anger and the heartbreak all knotted together. Holding yourself back from doodling hearts on his sticky note messages, busying yourself with shredding instead of nosing around his office.

No bullshit, you were about to scream. Martha’s just the first person you laid eyes on.

Her and her fucking kale.

“Because,” you summarize, “I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing anymore.”

Her eyes are wide, serious. She’s hooked already. “With Joel?” she asks, sipping.

“With any of it,” you reply. And then, hearing her properly: “What do you know about me and Joel?”

She swallows quickly. “He hasn’t told me a word, I swear,” she says, “but I wasn’t born yesterday. Paris was always a solo trip, darling.”

You massage your forehead, grumbling into your palms. “Jesus Christ,” you whisper. There’s a heavy ache blooming behind your eyes.

Martha smiles. “I thought it was sweet. He’s never been serious enough about anyone to take ‘em over there with him. But,” her eyes ladder down your figure, “I’m guessing it didn’t work out.”

“Something like that, yeah.”

“Okay,” she squints, reading you, “And are we relieved? Are we hurt? Angry?”

“We are four and a half coffees Monday morning, and a wine bar Monday afternoon.”

“Got it,” she says, face stony. “That little shit. You need me to yell at ‘im?”

You lift your wine, shake your head. “I did enough yelling at him last week,” you admit. “It wasn’t just him, anyways. He fucked up, but it was the both of us.”

Martha nods, and you both take a long drink.

She taps her nails against the swell of her glass. “I thought you two were really great together,” she says – polite, pensive.

The least Martha you’ve ever heard her.

“You did?”

She nods. “You just always had this camaraderie. It was palpable. From the moment he met you, he was different. Better for it. I don’t know when you were…whatever you were, but –” she takes a deep breath, looking off past you, “– I know I liked it when you were.”

It’s not something you ever considered, even in the thick of it. What it might look like from outside, this little love affair: promises whispered into coffee mugs and glances stolen from behind paperwork.

It was never a secret – at least, not one either of you were trying to keep. It was just…yours. You and Joel. Two names etched at the bottom of a birthday card, no room for anyone else’s.

And if anyone did find out – Martha, Rand, Jean-fucking-Marc – they felt more like collateral. Just the landscape, the backdrop for your fated meteoric crash down to Earth.

God, it felt good to fall.

Martha sighs, dabbing a knuckle at the corner of her lips. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” she says, gently. “I’m sorry things didn’t turn out the way you hoped.”

Your eyes drift across the room. The waiter pours a deep red wine for a silver-haired couple over by the window. The man’s thumb surfs back and forth across his wife’s knuckles, dipping to circle the ring on her third finger.

The split in your skin opens again, your nail pressing clumsily into your finger. A tiny wave of pain rocks through the tip.

“Yeah, well,” you sniff, “Shit happens, right?”

“Sure does,” she says, and holds her glass out.

You cheers, the clink piercing the bumbling jazz in the air. The wine thrashes against the side of the glass, and you gulp back a sour mouthful.

“He sent me an offer for a job in Paris,” you confess into your drink. “That’s what our fight was about – the fact he didn’t want me to go. Then on Friday, he sent it anyway.”

“Paris?” Martha straightens in her chair. It’s easy to tell her, easy to pretend it’s some third-floor gossip when she reacts the same way. “That’s big,” she says. “Are you gonna go for it?”

“No,” you admit. “It’s with that guy Jean-Marc.”

Her upper lip curls, a bend of burgundy. “You can do better.”

“I guess,” you frown, “if I were looking.”

“You’re not looking?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

It twists in your throat. A million answers which fizzle into nothing at all on your tongue. Because because because –

“Who would read all of Joel’s boring emails?” It comes with a smirk, which drops as quickly as you realize Martha’s expression isn’t shifting.

“I would. And he’d find a replacement for you eventually. Not half as good, but…”

“Ha,” you stare at her, “Funny.”

“I’m not kidding. “I’m not,” she adds, when you roll your eyes. “It’s about damn time you realized you’re head and shoulders above all this.

“Maybe,” she continues, with an almost bloodthirsty interest, “Joel didn’t let on about Paris because he thinks you’re better than that, too. You don’t think he sees your potential? Hell, I do. You’re too good to be making coffee and taking minutes.”

Tell me something I don’t know, you think.

Joel’s never been quiet about how he feels about you – professionally or otherwise. He said as much in his office last week: I didn’t want to lose you. Those exact words kept you up all weekend, for crying out loud.

Sure, Joel sees something in you. Assistant, colleague, friend, not-friend. It’s not enough to stop the need you have – pinhole pupils hunting, blood jumping in your veins. Like it’d kill you to catch your breath, to shake your hackles and loosen your muscles.

Watch, watch. I can answer your questions before you’ve even come up with them. Watch, watch. I can show up early and leave late, barely pause for breath in between.

Watch, watch. I can break your heart and make it look just like mine.

You squirm under Martha’s glare.

“I don’t…I don’t even know what else I’d do,” you garble, playing with your hands. “I like this job. I’m good at this job. It’s…it’s –”

“– comfortable,” you say together.

“And that’s exactly the problem,” Martha nods, “You’ve outgrown it. You’re nothing but a monster in red bottoms now, baby – too scared to find something that fits you better in case it turns to shit. So what if it does? Is it the end of the world?”

“Feels like it right now,” you reply. She’s cloudy, blurred behind the ocean of tears teetering along your waterline. “And this is barely even a breakup, never mind failing at a career.”

She chuckles, shaking her head. “You think you’d be the first? The last? People fail at things all the damn time. Better to do it now, young as you are – little elastic band of resilience and nerve.”

“Poetic,” you scoff.

She tilts her glass and her head follows.

“Listen to me,” she says, leaning in. “Do not spend one more second paralyzed by fear. I know you’re scared. You’re supposed to be. One day, you’re going to miss the time you gave enough of a shit to feel this fear.

“It’s like electricity in your veins. Everything’s so intense, everything hurts ten times worse and feels ten times more exhilarating. You think something might bring about the end of the goddamn world, and then the sun comes up the next morning just to prove you wrong.

“And Lord almighty, you are going to get it wrong. You’ll say the wrong thing, trust the wrong feeling. You’ll make the same mistakes over and over again. But Jesus, I’d rather you blew it all to hell and at least learned somethin’, than never did it at all.

“You know what my mom would say? World’s been waitin’ on you, kid. Grab a paddle.”

Another laugh spurts from your lips, tears spilling into your mouth, a crackly, wet sniffle. “What the hell does that even mean?” you giggle.

She smiles and wipes your cheek. “Means dive in. Get your hands dirty. Fall in love, get hurt, grow the hell up. Stop standing in the way of yourself and the things you want. That electricity won’t be there forever – so use it.”

“Use it…” you echo, taking the mascara-stained tissue from her.

“Promise me,” she implores, wrapping her hands around yours, “Promise me that you will.”

It’s not just Martha asking, you know this. She’s the one staring at you like a madwoman, sure – but her plea is echoed by a littler, quieter voice.

She’s nervous, scared. A crumpled math paper in her backpack. Her whole world tipped upside down one Wednesday afternoon, soul cursed forever – or so she thought.

When you reply, it’s not Martha you see. It’s the sixteen-year-old version of yourself.

So you look her dead in the eye, and say –

“I promise.”

The world is hazy by the time you leave the bar. Vignetted, a saffron sunset seeping across the sky. Mingling with the city skyline and losing herself over the horizon.

You totter up the steps to your building and wave Martha and Alan off, twirling inside. The weight of wine heavy in your veins, pulling you from one side to the other, and still – you feel lighter, somehow.

You spent all afternoon giggling, once the heartache thawed and the alcohol kicked in. It felt nice; bubbly and nostalgic, the peachy tint of girlhood.

Swapping stories about your old, ridiculous love lives – Martha’s overall-donned boyfriend in high school, or the guy you went on two dates with last year before realizing he was the same dude one of your girlfriends had ghosted three months prior.

For a few hours on a Monday afternoon, you were fifteen again – and the worst thing that could happen was a pimple sprouting on your chin the night before picture day. All you’d ever know was the shiny film on magazine pages, reading two-week old horoscopes to see if they came true.

You slump against the side of the elevator, head spinning as it carries you home. It’s something like seven. You’re too buzzed to fall asleep, but too tipsy to do much more than roll around your apartment.

And by the time you’re back in your sweats, sunken into the couch, one very final nightcap in hand – you’re too tired to even move.

Promise me, she’d said, wildfire behind her eyes. Martha’s notorious for her talents in convincing anyone of anything, wriggling her own way out of any circumstance.

This felt different.

She’s just your colleague. At best, a passerby. Technically – going by her track record with almost everyone else in the company – she doesn’t have to take any more interest in you than the parking attendants in the basement lot do.

But she took your hand and led you out of that office without thinking, the second she understood. She bought you drink after drink, and slapped your hand away when you tried to pay. She listened to you, dried your tears, and then kicked your ass into gear.

By all standards, she was the best first date you’ve ever had.

And promise me, she’d said.

It starts as a joke. Humoring her, humoring yourself. A dare whispered to you by the tinkling of ice in your glass. Innocent curiosity, mixed with a dash of Martha’s good influence.

The perfect cocktail of chaos.

Your first online search brings up so many results that it dizzies you. Marketing executive and project coordinator, business support manager and production lead. They blur into a gray fog, a taunting swirl on your laptop screen.

“Jesus,” you mutter, mouthful of wine. “What the fuck do I…?”

Business and art. That’s what you know. One you’ve been in long enough that you reckon you could do it with your eyes closed – and the other…your little pipedream.

‘s not stupid, Joel had said, that night by the river. Not a pipedream, either.

And – fuck it, maybe you ought to listen for once. Stop standing in the way of yourself and the things you want, and all that.

You dig your knuckles into your eyes, letting the spatter of stars clear your vision, and start again.

A second search threads together a list which feels a little cleaner. A little more you. Sophisticated websites with sleek designs, smooth wording which makes it feel like you’re being sold something.

And so what, if you are? Maybe you’re looking to buy.

You click through image after image of bright offices and beaming staff, sipping sharply through your straw. Wide-eyed and slack-jawed, unsure whether the lightheaded feeling is from the rosé, or the promise of a successful career and competitive salary. Memorizing brand manifestos, learning company values like prayers passing through your hands.

It’s manic. Crazed. Like you’re stood on the brink of an abyss, thick fog kissing your ankles.

You laugh to yourself. This must be the fucking electricity.

Promise me. And what can it hurt, anyway, turning in an application form? Who says it’ll even go anywhere? They might take one look at your resume and laugh you all the way into the trashcan.

Or – they might see what Joel sees. What Martha sees. For the love of God, what you see.

Your resume looks much the same as it did four years ago – still molded into the shape of the kind of girl you thought Joel Miller, CEO might like to meet. And he did, very much so. It’s just – he met all shapes of her. Even the ones she tried to hide.

He found them all out, eventually.

Your thumb pauses, hovering over the mousepad. A slow guilt slithering over your shoulders, coiling deep in your gut. You think of Paris; those streets you walked down with Joel on your arm. Talking, laughing, spilling secrets and keeping them, too.

Your shadows are probably still on those avenues. Your reflections still bobbing in the Seine. Kisses hidden behind steam-coated mirrors, bodies joining in a darkened hotel room.

It twinges some, deep in your chest. A little numbed, what with all the alcohol and – well, Martha. But it’s still there. The same wound you’ve had for twelve years now.

It’s there. It will probably always be there.

So – fuck it.

You’re grabbing a goddamn paddle.

It’s been a quiet, fruitless week. No calls, no emails, no messages written in the stars.

Which is probably a good thing, given you were more than a few glasses of wine deep – and still on some kind of high from Martha’s speech. God only knows what kind of shit you were filling those applications with.

Nothing quite like liquid courage and a broken heart, right?

The light from the Xerox flickers, swiping memories from that afternoon back and forth. Martha’s hand locked around yours, the perfumed wine she kept buying. The waiter with the dimples, Joel’s Have a good night I’ll see you tomorrow, the pine air freshener in Alan’s car.

Things have mellowed, settled in your stomach. The world is back to beige – as plain as it always was before that night of tequila and AC/DC. You’ve made peace with it, this idea of letting go. Letting him go.

Martha – soapbox queen, microphone in one hand and glass of Sauvignon Blanc in the other – has checked in every day since. Expectant eyes from across the room, treasure chest emails full of job ads she’s collected.

Anything? she texted this morning, with six praying emojis. One more since yesterday, two since the day before that.

But no – nothing, for almost eight days now.

Maybe that’s for the best.

Maybe you can swallow back the knot of misplaced disappointment, slip back into your heels and forget any of it ever happened. That fire Martha struck so effortlessly, snuffed by a cruel, cold wind.

His knuckles on the door scatter your thoughts.

“Hey,” Joel says, leant against the frame. “Everything okay?”

“All good,” you reply. “What’s up?”

He looks…frustratingly good. Like he’s pieced himself back together. Sharp and smart, brand new. And yet – warm, homey, in all the places only you know to look.

Your fingers flinch by your side, as though they’re seeking him out. You want to run them through his hair, through his beard. Want to straighten his tie, smooth the shirt over his chest. Breathe him in and feel him melt under your touch.

Feel him change, feel him soften – just for you.

Only for you.

He floats over, hands in his pockets, and perches on the desk by the copier. “Exciting stuff,” he muses, tapping the machine twice.

“Hm,” you nod, “You’re an exciting man.”

“How was the wine bar?”

“It was good,” you reply. “Little above my price range, but – it got us drunk, so.”

“Did the job.”

“Did the job,” you agree.

“Good,” Joel says, crossing his ankles. “I’m glad to see you a little more your old self.”

Your lips flatten into a smile. “Well, Martha has a way with words.”

He snorts. “Don’t I know it.”

He lingers, then. An awkward air about him. He scratches his nose, stuffs his hands back in his pockets. Sucks in a deep breath, swallows what seems to be a soliloquy of sentiment, or secrets, or something else.

Whatever it is, his nerves rub off on you.

You cross your arms, twist your toe into the carpet. Stare at the paper churning out of the machine, stare at your nails, stare at anything that isn’t the man sitting right in front of you.

But then – he murmurs, as though the words splinter from his tongue, “I had an interesting email this morning.”

The copier shudders at his side.

Your eyebrows lift. “Oh, yeah?”

Joel clears his throat. “Yeah. Pertaining to you.”

And you realize.

You look up at him, the tight knit of his brows. His fixed jaw, the way it flexes as he chews on the words.

“Pertaining to me,” you echo – a nudge.

The light from the machine catches a wet glint in his eye. He blinks it away.

“Request for a reference,” he says.

And – shit.

“Shit,” you hiss.

Fuck.

“Oh, fuck,” louder.

His expression sharpens into a perplexed smirk. “Surprised?”

“Yes,” you start, “I mean – no. No, I just – Shit, I didn’t think they’d…I thought they’d talk to me first. Why didn’t they talk to me first?”

He shrugs. “I know of the company, met the CEO once at a gala. From what I know, she runs a pretty tight ship. Probably just wanted to gauge you before reaching out. It’s okay,” his voice is kind, hushed, “Doesn’t mean you won’t still hear.”

“Oh, Jesus, Joel,” you pull on your cheeks, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean –”

“Woah, woah,” he pats the air, moves so close you worry he might hear the thud of your heart, “No apologies, alright? That ain’t why I brought it up.”

“I just didn’t mean for you to find out that way. I wanted to be the one to – to tell you.”

He stands, hands finding your elbows. Gentle, a little timid. Barely brushing the sleeves of your shirt, and yet your whole body ignites.

“Darlin’,” his voice is serious, “I don’t care. I don’t give a shit, I promise. I mean…” he shakes his head, “…I give a shit. I give a lotta shits. I’m not – I don’t mean that, I meant –”

“I know what you meant,” you whisper.

“Yeah,” he sighs, “you always do.”

You pick a speck of fluff from his tie. He watches your hand, then takes it in both of his. Two big paws wrapped around one of yours, swallowing it whole.

It’s a familiar feeling, staring at the shape of your fingers tangled in his. Two in the morning at your first sleepover, praying Mom will pick up the phone. The first night alone in a new apartment, the babble of reality television for company right until sunrise.

You’re homesick.

Homesick for a man who’s standing right in front of you.

“I just wanted you to know,” Joel says, “that I sent it off just now. Just in case somethin’ goes wrong with the email, it doesn’t go through, I sent it to the wrong goddamn place – I don’t know. I just wanted you to know that it’s done.”

He holds your hand to his chest, his heartbeat against your knuckles. When you don’t reply, throttled by the threat of tears, he gives your wrist a little shake.

“Okay? You in there?”

“I’m here,” you breathe, and your hand slips from his grasp. “Thank you. I’m still sorry. You musta felt a little blindsided.”

His head bobs, considering. “Was a surprise, but a good one. Junior art director, huh? That sounds pretty damn exciting.”

“Yeah,” you reply, relaxing as he settles back on the desk. “Really exciting. Flex those creative muscles again.”

He grins. “You plan on working your way up?”

“Yup. Earn my stripes.”

“Alright, little tiger,” he says, and your heart leaps. “Proud of you.”

A silly smirk on your lips, you give him a tiny curtsy. “Here’s hoping your reference seals the deal.”

Joel laughs. “I don’t know about that, darlin’. It’s pretty shitty.”

“Is that so?”

“Oh, yeah. Talked all about how sarcastic you are, how you forgot the charger for your toothbrush – and then stole mine. Told ‘em about the Bart Simpson socks, force-feeding me Patrick Swayze. The lot.”

“The Bart socks,” you snicker, “They really stuck with you, huh?”

“Sure did.”

You slide onto the desk beside him. “What did you really write?” you ask, leaning in.

Joel glances to you. It should be obvious, with the way he’s looking at you, exactly what he wrote.

“Tell me,” you say, elbowing him.

“I told them…” he sighs, “…I told them not even to think about it, just hire you. They’d be outta their goddamn minds not to. Told them I wouldn’t be anywhere without you – or your Bart socks.

“Told them you’re the best thing that ever happened to this place. The best thing that ever happened to me. And you think – you think you never know what you have until you lose it, whatever that saying is, but I did. I knew from the second I met you. And they will, too. So – I told ‘em.”

The photocopier cuts, huffs, and falls silent. The room is plunged into a suffocating silence. You’re not sure you’re even breathing.

Joel’s arms are crossed protectively over his chest. You want so badly, more than anything, to burrow under them. To wriggle your way into his grasp – because you know he’d let you – cling to his chest, let his heartbeat regulate yours.

Let his entire body become yours; forget which parts are you, and which are him. Crawl into his skin, envelop yourself in him.

You want to cry into him. Hand him back all those mangled shapes of yourself you tried so hard to hoard – realizing now, that he knew what he was doing all along.

He was never trying to break them. He was never trying to hurt them. He only ever wanted to love them.

He only ever wanted to love you.

“Anyway,” Joel says, dusting his thighs, “Why don’t you finish that up, head on home for the day?”

“Uh –” you swipe the tears from your cheeks, “– no, it’s okay. I got a to-do list as long as my arm, and I still owe you, like, three hours from last week.”

Joel watches as you leap back over to the copier, swing the documents under one arm.

“I’m sure the to-do list will keep,” he assures, taking the ream from your clutches. “Go home, clear your head. Wait for that invite to interview to come through.”

“Joel –”

“Look at me,” he towers over you, “Anything urgent is Martha’s job now. She’ll love the drama of it. You want me to email that company back ‘n have them add Doesn’t follow orders to your reference?”

You breathe a laugh. “No.”

“No,” he repeats, brushing by.

All the times you’ve missed him before – landing back home after Paris, sat with some lovestruck financier in a golf club, fighting like kids in his office – and none of them compare to right now. Stood in the copy room, mere inches and yet entire worlds between you.

And Joel seems to know, like he knows everything you’re thinking. He glances over his shoulder, flame in his eyes, and he smiles. All sweet and charming, the real kind that softens him, lightens him.

Everything that makes him yours.

“Go on, git,” he says, heading for the door. “‘fore I change my mind.”

“Hey, wait. Joel?”

He turns back.

Your voice trembles. “How are you so calm about all this?”

His jaw flicks uncomfortably. He considers it for a moment, then says, “If you love something, you let it go.”

You repeat his own words back to him, whispered to you while you lay intertwined on his childhood bed. When they leave your mouth, they sound more like a plea. Fight back.

“But then you’d be losing something,” you say.

Joel shrugs. Earnestly. “Can’t lose somethin’ I never had.”

He doesn’t get it. He must get it. He’s twenty years older, twenty years wiser. He must know, by now. Christ, he had you to a tee two weeks ago.

How doesn’t he get it?

Your chest heaves. Your head shakes.

“You had it. You had me the second we walked into that dive bar.”

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #ceo!joel miller #ceo!joel #sugardaddy!joel miller #the last of us #the last of us fic #fic: sex on fire

692 notes · View notes

officialaemondtargaryen · 11 months ago

Text

is it casual now?

Prompt: You and Eddie totally aren't dating, right?

Characters: Eddie Munson x Reader, brief mentions of Steve Harrington x Reader.

Word Count: ~5.5k

Author’s Note: Happy birthday @felteppsters

Playlist: Casual by Chappell Roan

Warnings: Smut & fluff.

If you had a dollar for every time someone asked if you and The Freak were dating, you'd have made four dollars this week alone.

And it's only Tuesday.

You didn't go out of your way to spend time with Eddie Munson, and he never once asked if you wanted to hang out outside of school, but somehow you always managed to find yourself getting fingered in the back of his van in the parking lot during study hall. And he was known to drop a note in your locker on occasion asking you to meet him in that one bathroom that no one ever used for a quickie during lunch.

But that was neither here nor there.

The point was that people were beginning to notice.

It wasn't a bad thing. It's not like dating Eddie would ruin your reputation- despite what some people would say. It was just that when people asked if you and Eddie were dating, you didn't know how to answer because you, yourself, were not exactly sure what that answer was.

So you just said no, and you probably said it a little too defensively.

Does hooking up occasionally count as dating? No. In order to be dating someone you had to at least go out on an actual date, right? The night he took you to his trailer to 'fuck you in a real bed' and ordered pizza delivery didn't count, either, no matter how long you cuddled with him afterwards.

"I heard a rumor," it was Robin. She fell in step with you as you both exited fourth-period Algebra and headed toward the cafeteria. "And I just need a little bit of clarification, so forgive me if what I'm about to ask is-"

"I swear to God, Robin, if you're about to ask me if I'm dating Eddie Munson," you held up your hand and cut her off, stopping short in the middle of the hallway; your boots scuffing the speckled white tile floor, causing a slight traffic jam of bodies.

"What!?" She gasped. Either she was a really great actress or she genuinely hadn't heard. "There's a rumor going around that you're dating Eddie Munson?"

"No?" you deflected and picked up the pace. "What did you hear?"

"That you're dating Eddie Munson." With that, your face fell and she pulled her lips between her teeth to keep herself from laughing. "Well, is it true? Because Maria Fuentes heard from Charlie Dawson that Tina saw you guys in the parking lot last Friday and she did not hold back on the details."

"First of all," you said stopping at your locker. "I feel violated."

"Well, you were, you know-" Robin held up her fingers and made a lewd gesture causing you to cringe.

"Second of all-" You began again, only to be cut off by a folded piece of paper falling from your locker to the floor as you opened the flimsy, metal door. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks as Robin quickly bent down and snatched the note from under you before you had the chance.

"You were saying?" She asked, a playful smirk pulling at her lips as she dodged every one of your attempts to take the note back from her. "Meet me. You know where. Signed, E.M." She read aloud. "Oh, look, there's even a little heart. That is so cute!"

"Second of all," you repeated after you had snatched the crumpled paper from her hands. "We are not dating."

Eddie's lips were on yours the moment the bathroom door closed behind you; before you were even able to flip the lock. You hadn't seen him since last Friday, and you could easily tell that he had gotten needy over the weekend. You wanted to enjoy the moment, but all that you could think about was this rumor.

He took a few steps forwards, pushing you back to the double sink until you were sitting on the counter; pushing himself between your legs, his hands falling to your sides, fingertips digging into your flesh. His lips were everywhere, biting and sucking hungrily as he squeezed every inch of your body he could get his hands on.

You placed your palm firmly on his chest and lightly pushed him away from you. He took a step back and you took in his appearance; tight denim jeans, a flannel wrapped around his hips, t-shirt just slightly messy enough to reveal a scruffy happy trail below his navel. His jeans were especially tight in the crotch, and his eyes were dark with desperation as he returned your gaze. He ducked his head to meet your lips once again, but you turned your head and ensured his lips fell to your cheek instead.

"Something's definitely up with you," he said softly as he placed another kiss on your temple.

He looked so good and made you feel so good, you just wanted to pull him back down to you and fuck him in this bathroom for the umpteenth time, but you couldn't. He stepped back and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket; looking so cool as he placed one between his lips and took a long drag, sending smoke billowing around the tiny room.

"You haven't heard?" You asked. He shrugged. "Someone saw us Friday in your van and now the entire school thinks we're dating."

"Oh," he let our a sarcastic chuckle. "And that's a problem for you, I guess? Can't be seen with the freak, right?"

"No," you rolled your eyes at the fact that he would even suggest that. "I just didn't know if- are we?"

He shrugs again, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I thought it was just casual."

"Casual?" You ask, and he nods. "Okay, well, I have to go. My next class is all the way on the other side of the building and I don't want to be late."

He can tell by your tone that you're upset.

"What do you want me to say?" He asks, making one last attempt to make you stay as you pick up your book bag from the floor.

"Nothing."

"You're pissed," he actually reached for you this time, but you shrugged him off.

"No," you replied. "I'm just-" you paused for a moment looking for the right words. "I'm casual." He winced. "Have a good day, Eddie."

You wanted to slam the door in his face, but it wasn't that type of door, so you opted for storming off loudly. As you rounded the corner you knocked shoulders with some girl from the Cheerleading squad who yelled at you to watch where you were going, but you didn't care to respond. Your legs were carrying you as quickly as they could without breaking into a full sprint down the halls of Hawkins High.

It wasn't a lie when you stated that your next class was on the other side of the school. You were sweating by the time you reached your desk. Robin had gotten there first, slumped back in her assigned seat with a smirk on her face as you sat down, trying to catch your breath.

"Long commute?" She asked, her voice laced with sarcasm.

"Shut the hell up, Buckley." You snapped.

"Uh oh," she held her hands up in defense. "Must be some trouble in paradise."

"I told you earlier, Eddie and I are not dating."

"Roger that."

The last bell couldn't come soon enough. All that you wanted to do was get home and get into bed- and preferably cry into a bowl of ice cream. You'd have never imagined yourself crying over the likes of Eddie Munson, but the thought of losing whatever it was that you had with him was upsetting.

He was your friend, after all. You had a lot in common with him. He could make you laugh and there was no shortage of conversation when you were around him. He was always getting shit from his friends, but you loved the fact that he never shut the hell up. And when there wasn't a conversation to be had, there was always music; whether it was his long list of cassette tapes or him strumming away on his guitar, there was never a dull moment.

And here you were ruining it over a label.

Robin held the door open for you as you both stepped out into the warm summer weather. Waves of students began lining up in the parking lot for their respective busses, but you typically walked home when the weather was nice.

"So since you're not dating Eddie Munson," Robin began and you couldn't help but roll your eyes so hard that it almost gave you a headache. "I was wondering if you might want to go on a double date with Vickie and myself?"

"A double date typically involves two couples."

"Right, you're absolutely right." Robin was stuttering. "I have this friend and he is also single. Problem solved."

"Steve?"

"Yeah."

"No."

"Wh- Why?"

"Because I have nothing in common with Steve and Steve is a prick," you replied bluntly.

Robin rolled her eyes. "He's actually not, like, at all. Besides, I talk about you all the time to him and he said that he would really like to meet you."

"He must have forgotten that he spent the majority of my freshman and sophomore year bullying me with Tommy H and Carole," you muttered under your breath.

Your friend reached out and grabbed you by the shoulder, stopping you in place and spinning you around to face her. A sigh escaped your lips as you looked her in the eye.

"That was a long time ago. I wasn't a huge fan of him when I first met him, either." She gave you a lopsided smile and you found her attempts to win her friend a date with you amusing. "I promise you that it's worth a shot. So, if you change your mind, we're going roller skating on Saturday night."

"You rollerskating?" You laughed and heard a car honk a few times as it pulled up.

"You're so funny!" She stated sarcastically.

Steve gave you a derpy smile as he rolled the passenger side window down. He was wearing his Family Video vest. "Good afternoon, ladies." He called out smoothly, you returned with a small wave.

"Sleep on it?" Robin asked as she opened the door to Steve's car.

"Fine," you rolled your eyes. "I'll think about it."

Robin smiled as she ducked into the passenger seat and closed the door behind her. "I'll see you tomorrow!"

Saturday came sooner than expected, and you had to admit that you were nervous. If someone had told you a year ago that you'd be going on a date with Steve Harrington, you'd probably punch them in the throat. Hell, if someone told you that a week ago, you'd still be swinging.

You had avoided Eddie at all costs throughout the rest of the week. Though, you'd be lying if you said that you weren't a little disappointed there were no notes left in your locker, or that he didn't find some way to talk to you after you left him standing in that bathroom Tuesday afternoon. You even waited up some nights hoping for a phone call or a pebble on the window, but none came.

It took over an hour and half to pick an outfit. Almost every article of clothing you owned was crumpled on the floor or tossed on the bed as you tried on a dozen different outfit combinations. It was the roller rink, so you wanted to be comfortable, but it was technically a date, so you also wanted to at least seem like you tried. Finally, as the clock ticked closer to seven, you decided on jeans, an off-shoulder top, and your Converse. You really didn't care to impress Steve Harrington; you didn't care in freshman and sophomore year and you certainly didn't now.

"I thought you said you had a date," your mother mentioned as you stepped into the living room. She was on the couch watching Who's The Boss, a jar of mixed nuts in her lap.

"I am," you replied as you shrugged into your denim jacket. She looked you up and down and you rolled your eyes. "We're going rollerskating; comfort was the priority!"

The distant sound of a car horn honking interrupted the conversation, prompting you to glance out the front door. Steve, acting as the evening's chauffeur, awaited with Robin and Vickie in the backseat.

"Don't be out too late," your mother muttered between mouthfuls of peanuts. "But enjoy yourself."

As the heavy glass door swung open, a wave of familiar sounds and vibrant colors enveloped your senses. The Rollerdome was typically busy on a Saturday night, but tonight it seemed everyone in Hawkins had the same idea to go skating. The neon lights that adorned the rink's interior created a kaleidoscope of vivid hues; fluorescent pinks, electric blues, and neon greens adorned the walls, blending with the glow of disco balls suspended from the ceiling. Upbeat pop music and the thud of roller skates on the smooth, wooden floors flooded your ears as Robin and Steve bickered over which table to claim for the evening.

"I vote this one," Robin declared with unwavering confidence, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "That way, we've got front-row seats to all the wipeouts!"

"That is the exact reason why no one sits at this table, Robin," Steve countered with exasperation. "Everyone knows that the floor is slick there and when someone takes a spill, it's usually right into the table." He pauses before looking at you. "Bye-bye chili dogs."

You can't help but suppress a small smile, "I think it's perfect. If there's a chance one of those uppity assholes comes flying face first into our table, it'll be the highlight of my entire year."

"Can't argue with that logic," Steve added quickly. "Good choice, Robin."

She rolled her eyes and dragged Vickie off towards the rental counter. You casually tossed your bag on the top of the table; a clear marker that it was claimed. Steve removed his jacket and placed it next to your bag before running a hand through his thick, dark hair. It was clear that he was nervous as his eyes darted around the roller rink. He definitely didn't give off the same 'King Steve' aura that you remembered so well.

Maybe you'd give him a chance.

Just kidding.

You turned on your heel and walked off towards the snack bar, drawn in by the delicious aroma of extra cheese pizza and buttered popcorn, leaving Steve scrambling to catch up with your determined stride. Robin wanted a pretzel and a Coke slushy while Vickie had asked for cheese fries and an orange soda. You wanted nachos but agreed when Steve ordered to split a pizza, doing his best to impress you as he paid for everyone, but instead, all he got out of you was a slight eye roll. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Vickie lead a wobbly Robin out onto the rink. A chuckle escaped your lips as you witnessed their valiant attempts to navigate the rink without falling prey to the more seasoned skaters.

"So what are you into?" Steve asked as he filled up his drink at the fountain machine. "What do you like?"

"Uh," you weren't really sure what to say. You still couldn't really get past the fact that Steve Harrington was trying to have a conversation with you. "I like music."

"Yeah?" He asked. "I like music."

"Cool."

"This is a good song," he replied and pointed awkwardly to the overhead speakers while Another One Bites The Dust by Queen played loudly.

You couldn't help but think of the irony and did your best to suppress a laugh before Steve got the impression that you thought he was funny. Oh, how this date was failing epically; which you were already anticipating, so at least you hadn't gotten your hopes up about it. Steve was almost trying too hard to force a spark between the two of you, but without Robin around- which was often because she was too busy flailing about on her skates while Vickie tried her hardest to keep her from falling- it was absolutely boring.

At least the two of them seemed to be having a good time.

As the night continued on, you found yourself gradually shedding the initial reserve that had clung to you like a second skin. The pulsating rhythm of the music, the laughter of your friends, and the infectious joy of gliding across the smooth floor started to work its magic. A genuine smile tugged at the corners of your lips as Steve, Vickie, and Robin circled the rink alongside you, sharing jokes and banter.

"I need something to drink!" You yelled over the music at your friends before carefully exiting the floor onto the carpet.

Steve exited with you, gliding up to the table with ease; moving around you to the music, dancing on his skates. The hesitant glances you'd given him earlier transformed into playful exchanges, and you couldn't help but admit that his efforts to charm you had slowly but surely begun to work.

As Robin and Vickie continued to skate around the rink, something caught your eyes in the corner; a familiar, curly head of brown hair in the back towards the arcade. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, his brown eyes pinned to you as his friends huddled around one of the pinball machines.

You smirked softly as the music changed. In the background you could hear Steve talking, but you were too busy having a staring contest with Eddie from across the room.

"So what d'ya say?" Steve asked.

"What?" You asked, reluctantly tearing your eyes away from Eddie.

"It's a slow song," he mentioned. You could see a blush creeping to his cheeks. "Did you want to couple's skate?"

You agreed, allowing Steve to take your hand and lead you out onto the rink. It was wrong of you to use Steve in the way that you were, especially since you were just starting to like him. But the satisfaction that you felt seeing Eddie roll his eyes as you and your date skated by was too good to pass up. And yes, you faked the giggles and latched on to Steve's arm a little more with each time you passed Eddie, really twisting that knife as much as you could.

But hey, it was just "casual" right?

As the song came to a close and Steve led you by the hand back to your table. You couldn't help yourself but to glance back to the corner of the rink towards the arcade, only to see Eddie push himself off of the wall and stomp off towards the exit.

"I'll be right back," you called over to Steve as the song ended. "I need to get some fresh air."

"I'll come with!" Steve offered but you placed a hand on his arm to stop him before he could unlace his skates.

"I'll be okay," you assured him with a sweet smile. "I'll be right back."

Hurriedly, you unlaced your skates and shoved your feet into your worn-down tennis shoes before chasing after Eddie. The summer air was still very humid as you stepped out of the cool air conditioning and into the parking lot. The sunset was barely lingering on the horizon and the sky was a mixture of periwinkle and orange. To your right, you could see Eddie walking away from you and towards his van.

"Hey!" You called to him. He turned around to see it was you and threw his head back dramatically before turning back to his van. "What is your problem?"

"Steve Harrington, really?" He spat, turning to you once again.

"Oh, come off it!" You replied, closing the gap between you. "Jealousy does not suit you, babe."

"Steve fucking Harrington?" He asked again. "I mean what do you even talk about with that guy? Different variations of the color beige?"

"At least he can stand to be seen with me in public!"

You were standing toe-to-toe with him now, chests heaving. His eyes squinted as he stared down at you.

"You want to be seen in public?" He asked. "Careful what you ask for, princess."

Before you could protest, his hands were on your shoulders, maneuvering you to his van; walking you backward until your back was pressed up against the side door. "Hopefully Harrington will wander out here looking for you." He reached a hand behind you, swinging the door open, and pushed you in. "He gives me the impression of someone who likes to watch."

Eddie crawled into the van after you, leaving the door open, not caring who saw or heard. His lips were on yours in an instant. You moaned as he ducked his head into your neck, working your nerves as he popped the button on your jeans. He didn't even care to pull them all the way off, or your shoes for that matter. As soon as he had pulled your pants down far enough to expose your pussy to him, he held your legs over his head and began thumbing your clit; spreading a slick coat of wetness along your swollen lips. He lifted you up, throwing your legs over his shoulder as his tongue hungrily delved into your core.

You gasped in surprise, hands flying to his hair, wrapping around the thick of his roots. You could hear him fumbling with his belt buckle as his tongue worked your dripping folds. Once he had freed his girthy cock, he lowered you down, still holding your legs over his shoulders with his arms now snaked around your thighs as he lined himself up with your core.

Without warning, he shoved his cock into the deepest part of you, feeling you tighten and loosen around his length. You moaned loudly, forgetting that the side door to his van was still wide open.

"Should I send you back to King Steve filled with my cum?" He grunted as he thrusted against you. "Let him hold your hand as you feel me dripping into those cute, little panties?"

Your eyes rolled back as he continued to pump into you.

"Look at you," he whimpered, so close already to finding his own release. He dragged his thumb across your bottom lip and you took his digit into you mouth. "Fuck!"

You could feel his cock pulsing against your walls as he filled you with warm ribbons of his cum. Eddie crashed on top of you, his face buried in your neck as he tried to catch his breath. Your hands moved to his shoulders, pushing him off of you with a sigh. You were already pulling your jeans up over your hips and fixing your shirt.

"What is it now?" He asked.

"It's nothing, Eddie." You replied.

"Oh, it's something."

You said nothing and stood up out of his van. Half of you wanted to just walk away and leave him there, like you had on Tuesday, but you couldn't do that again. You were miserable after the first time you did that- so miserable that you agreed to go on a date with Steve Harrington, of all people. This time you turned to him, looking him dead in the eye as you tried to find the right words.

"I'm not just some easy girl, Eddie." You spat at him. "I allowed you to fuck me in the parking lot, and in the bathroom, and in the auditorium that one time because I like you. I guess- I just thought that you liked me, too. I thought I was more than just some girl that you go down on in the passenger seat of your van, but I was wrong."

He opened his mouth to say something, but you held your hand up to stop him, wanting to get it all out.

"You just want sex," you continued. "You don't want to date me, you don't want me to be your girlfriend, you just want something casual, and I'm not that."

"What are you, then?" He asked.

"Leaving."

He said nothing as he watched you turn away, leaving him completely dumbfounded. For once, you felt like you had the upper-hand in this game the two of you had been playing for months now.

The walk from Eddie's van to the front doors of the Rollerdome felt like miles as the gravel of the pavement crackled beneath your feet with each step. You half expected him to run after you, take you in his arms, and confess his love for you, but you were met with nothing but silence. With a final glance over your shoulder, you reentered the roller rink, leaving Eddie to grapple with the unspoken complexities that lingered in the warm, Summer air.

The electric energy of the rink greeted you, once again; a stark contrast to the mood you had created in the parking lot. You didn't want to be here any longer and decided upon re-entry that you were just going to go home. Robin, Vickie, and Steve were all huddled around the table as another slow ballad played loudly through the speakers.

"There you are!" Robin greeted with a lukewarm slice of pizza in her hand. She took immediate notice of your changed demeanor and asked, "is everything okay?"

"No," you replied quickly as you grabbed your jacket. "I think I am just going to go home."

"Home?" Robin asked. "Now?" She stood up and pulled you over to the side away from Steve and Vickie. "Does this have anything to do with Eddie? I saw you running out after him earlier."

"Just forget it, Robin, okay?" You sighed as you turned towards her. You looked over her shoulder to see Steve and Vickie watching you. You lowered your voice, "It's over, okay? Yes, I'm upset about it and I hate that I'm upset about it. I wasn't expecting to actually like him."

Robin sighed, "I didn't realize it was like that, I'm sorry."

You shrug your shoulders and shove your hands in your jacket pockets. "It's fine, I'll get over it."

She gave you a half smile, "can we at least give you a ride. I'm sure Steve won't mind driving."

"I'm just going to walk," you muttered. "It's not far."

"Alright, catch you on Monday! Last week of senior year!" She exclaimed and raised her hands, mimicking pompoms for added flair. She outstretched her arms and wrapped them around you and provided a tight squeeze.

"Can't wait," you groaned unenthusiastically.

Monday came and went and before you knew it, the final bell of Friday rang throughout those hideous green and gold hallways as a sea of graduates congregated in the gym; tossing their shimmering green caps into the air, signaling the beginning of the rest of your lives. In one hand, your diploma and in the other, your yearbook filled with well-wishes and promises to keep in touch-- most of which you hoped would forever be unkept.

Robin found you outside in the courtyard after she had managed to escape her parents.

"Here's to the first summer of the rest of our lives," she said breathlessly. "Steve and I are going to the mall if you want to come, spend some of this graduation cash from my grandparents."

"I'm okay," you smiled at her. "Raincheck?"

"If you say so," she rolled her eyes. "Where are your folks?"

"My dad had a little too many of those little sandwiches they were giving out," you made a face. "Mom had to take him home early."

"I'm sure my parents could give you a ride home, if you wanted," she said with a soft smile.

Over her shoulder you watched as Eddie, still draped in his cap and gown, rushed off towards the back of the parking lot. "That's okay, I have a ride," you replied with a smirk.

You gave her a hug and slipped away; turning on your heel and escaping the crowd through the parking lot. As the cars grew thin, you noticed a familiar white van in the back, parked in its usual spot. The side door was open and Eddie was sitting in the back; a cigarette in between his lips and his guitar in his lap. His diploma was tossed up on the dashboard, and his cap and gown were tossed in the passenger seat.

He strummed skillfully as you walked up the side of his van. His eyes were lulled shut and his head was titled back on the headrest. He hummed softly and your lips couldn't help turning into a smile. He was so undeniably perfect and he didn't even know it.

"Is that new?" You had been hanging out with Eddie long enough now to know his songs by heart. He always asked your opinion on his songwriting.

His eyes fluttered open, but his fingers continued strumming. You could see his gaze taking you in as you effortlessly leaned against the passenger door. He shrugged lazily and tilted his head back once again, staring up at the scuffed metal ceiling of his van.

"I was feeling inspired," he finally replied as he exhaled smoke out of the corner of his mouth. "It's about a terrible, evil temptress who collects the souls of the men of the realm." You quirked an eyebrow at him. "Until one day, she meets a kind and handsome young man who doesn't have a soul to give. So instead, he gives her his heart."

"Sounds a bit dramatic," you replied as you tried to hide the smile creeping to your lips, once more.

"I was thinking about the other night," his fingers stopped strumming as he reached up to pull the cigarette from his lips. He exhaled another cloud of smoke.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, see," he took another drag from his smoke. "I do like you and I do want you to be my girlfriend, always have."

You threw up your hands, "It's hard for me to believe that, Eddie! We fuck nearly every day but you can't take me out on one date? How am I supposed to believe that you want me to be your girlfriend if you can't even respect me enough to take me out!?"

"We have too gone on dates! I bought you pizza that one time!" He exclaimed as he set his guitar back down in the case and snapped it shut. "And we watched your favorite movie!"

"We watched Troll," you deadpanned.

"Yeah, we did," he replied as he stood up out of the van. He towered over you as he stood up straight. "And after it was over you said that it was your new favorite movie."

"I was being SARCASTIC!"

"God damnit!" He spat right back.

"You took me back to your trailer because you were tired of fucking me in this van!" His jaw dropped at the accusation. "And the only reason you ordered pizza was because there was nothing else to eat and you struggle to even microwave a frozen TV dinner!"

His hand flew over his chest as he gasped. "You really are an evil and terrible temptress! Your words are venomous!"

You sighed, "Tell me honestly... is there something wrong with me?"

"You think there's something wrong with you?" Eddie asks, a small laugh escaping his perfect lips. He shakes his head and moves his hands up your arms to your shoulders, looking at your straight on. "Sweetheart, you're perfect."

A blush creeps to your cheeks and you can practically feel yourself melting in his hands.

"You're perfect, like, way too good for me," he continued, a bashful grin playing on his lips. "I should've said it before, a million times."

"You think?" You asked.

"Let's just start over, okay?" He pleaded and jutted his hand out to you as if he was asking for a handshake. "Hi, I'm Eddie. Will you be my girlfriend?"

You narrowed your eyes as you glanced down at his hand, pursing your lips in a futile attempt to suppress a smile. Fuck, you hated how goddamn charming he was. Giving up fully to him, you accepted his hand. Though, before you could utter a single word, he pulled you in for a lingering kiss that left you breathless.

"Say yes," he whispered as he pulled away, his lips hovering just above yours.

"Yes," you whispered as you look up into his dark brown eyes.

#Eddie munson #Eddie munson x y/n #Eddie munson x reader #Eddie munson fic #Eddie munson imagine #Eddie munson fluff #Eddie munson drabble #Eddie munson smut #Eddie munson x you #stranger things #Steve harrington #robin buckley #Joseph quinn #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine #stranger things x you #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x reader

2K notes · View notes

fuckyeahisawthat · 6 months ago

Text

Furiosa thoughts

About 48 hours after watching, I think my take on Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga is coalescing into: I enjoyed it as a Mad Max movie but found it disappointing as a Fury Road prequel.

Any Mad Max movie made after Fury Road was always going to suffer the fate of being compared to Fury Road, which is the best action movie ever made. So like, compared to any other action movie you can think of, Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga (we'll call it FMMS going forward) is very very good! It just isn't Fury Road.

The rest is under the cut for spoilers:

The action sequences were compelling. (I was aware I was hunched forward in my seat in tension/anticipation almost the entire time.) Some of them were even brilliant. That long sequence where the Octoboss and the Mortiflyers (yes those are their names) are attacking the War Rig with all kinds of airborne contraptions? Phenomenal. I was like yes okay now we are in a Mad Max movie! Other than that one sequence, though, in which we see Furiosa and Praetorian Jack begin to trust each other, I thought they rarely achieved the kind of wordless advancement of character relationships through action beats that is the lifeblood of Fury Road. So the action was good, but it was just normal-good, not Fury Road transcendent.

I did miss John Seale's cinematography. While I thought the action choreography was great, the shot selection was just not as dynamic and interesting as in Fury Road. I also really did not vibe with so much of the musical themes being recycled from Fury Road. The Fury Road score is SO memorable and the music is such an integral part of the momentum and feeling of every scene in the movie; I can play that score and see every beat of the action unfolding in my brain now. I wanted new score that felt like it was a part of this new action that we were seeing.

I loved all the new worldbuilding details and finally getting to see inside Gastown and the Bullet Farm. Those locations and their unique features were utilized really well for the action that took place in them. Loved the new details we got about the Citadel. The grappling hooks just dipping down to yoink people's vehicles during battle? Fantastic. The hidden Citadel ledge with the little pool of water?? That was such a fanfic-ready location. Pretty sure I already wrote at least one fic set there back in like 2016.

The Green Place! Very different from what I imagined but so much worldbuilding in just a few shots.

In general I thought the new cast rose to the challenge. Alyla Browne who played little kid Furiosa I thought was phenomenal actually. That's a tough role, both emotionally and physically, for a child actor and she slayed it. Casting Indigenous model and actress Charlee Fraser to play Furiosa's mother certainly made the Stolen Generation parallels more obvious. I'll have a lot more to say about Dementus down below, but Chris Hemsworth brought a great combo of bonkers and menacing.

I never doubted that Anya Taylor-Joy could bring the emotional intensity needed to the role--she can do crazy eyes like nobody's business, and with the growl she put in her voice she really did sound like Charlize Theron a bit. I found her physicality convincing for a young Furiosa. But she is not Charlize, through no fault of her own. Charlize is tall and she has broad shoulders and she just takes up so much space when moving and fighting as Furiosa and I think it was always going to be hard to replicate that. As long as they didn't try too hard to bridge the gap between the characters I was fine with it. But that one scene at the end where she's bringing the Wives to the Rig I was very viscerally like that is NOT our Furiosa. (I almost wish they would've used Charlize's stunt double for that scene the way they popped Jacob Tomuri into Max's place.) They could have simply left a time gap--based on the "15 years" she says to Dementus and the 7,000+ days we hear about in Fury Road there should be at least a 4-year gap between the film timelines, although in terms of bridging the look of the two actors it feels like it should be more like 10 years.

If FMMS had been a self-contained movie about a character named Furiosa in the Mad Max universe, I think I would have found it very satisfying. But as a prequel to Fury Road there were a bunch of ways I thought it was lacking on a story level.

I think it's pretty clear that this is not the backstory, or at least not the complete backstory, that Charlize Theron was imagining while playing Furiosa. Which...there's nothing objectively wrong with that; word of God and what actors think about their characters doesn't supersede what's on film for determining what is canon. However, Fury Road positions Joe as Furiosa's main antagonist, and while we don't get the full story behind the incandescent rage she directs at him, we know that rage is there and is a big part of her motivation. In interviews at the time, Charlize talked about the idea that Furiosa had been stolen to be a Wife but then was discovered to be infertile and discarded, how she survived by hiding in the Citadel and eventually rose to a position of power, how she saw her actions not as saving the Wives but as stealing them, and that her motivation at least starts out as more about hurting Joe than helping these women.

We get only the tiniest suggestion of Furiosa's backstory in Fury Road ("I was taken as a child, stolen") and the rest we piece together by implication. She is a healthy full-life woman working for a man who keeps healthy full-life women as sex slaves, hoping one of them will produce a viable male heir for him. She is effectively a general in his army, projecting his power on the wasteland, a position no other woman seems to occupy. She tells Max she is seeking "redemption." Redemption for what? She doesn't say. But "whatever she has done to win a position of power within this misogynist death cult" seems like a pretty obvious answer.

And that's interesting! That's an interesting backstory that engages with some of the core themes and moral questions of the Mad Max universe. These movies deal a lot with the tension between self-preservation and human connection. Do you screw someone else over to protect yourself? Even if it means putting them in the terrible position that you yourself have clawed your way out of? Even if it means enforcing your own oppressor's power over them? Or do you take the risk of helping people and caring enough to connect with them, even though this carries an emotional and physical risk?

FMMS doesn't really engage with Furiosa's relationship to Joe like, at all. It's not like Joe comes off looking like a good guy. He's just hardly in the movie. I don't know if this would have been different if Hugh Keays-Byrne were still alive. I don't know if there was pressure from the studio to cast an A-list male lead actor alongside Anya Taylor-Joy (who's a hot commodity now but wasn't what I would call an A-lister when she was originally cast). I don't know if, once Chris Hemsworth was cast, that affected how central his character's role became, since he is certainly the biggest name attached to the film. I would have actually been fine with Chris Hemsworth or another actor of his ilk playing a younger Joe, and us getting to see some of the charisma that attracted followers to him.

But the end result is that we have Dementus, who is a perfectly fine Mad Max villain, and quite entertaining at times! But not the most compelling antagonist you could give Furiosa.

The four Mad Max movies that feature Max go through an interesting evolution. In the first two movies, the villains are people "outside" society--criminals and roving gangs--and the people Max is defending are "civilization." So we have Mad Max where Max is a very fucked-up cop, and Road Warrior where Max is the prototypical western gunslinger, riding in to town to protect the settlement from an outside threat, but ultimately unable to accept any of the comforts of civilization for himself.

Then in Thunderdome and Fury Road, the dynamic switches. Now the antagonists are warlords and dictators. They are civilization. And the people Max ends up helping are trying to escape them.

To me, Dementus feels much more like the earlier kind of Mad Max villain. If there's another Mad Max movie I can most compare FMMS to, it's the first one. Dementus is Furiosa's Toecutter. (Kills her family, gives her her signature disabling injury, movie ends with her seeking revenge on him but it doesn't feel heroic or triumphant.) The whole end of FMMS when Furiosa is implacably hunting down Dementus? Extremely Mad Max 1.

But violent revenge holds a different symbolic place in Furiosa's story than it does in Max's. The end of Mad Max is a tragedy because Max tells us it is. He explicitly states, early in the movie, that he needs to stop being a cop or he'll become no different than the violent criminals he's pursuing. So he leaves his job and goes on an extended weird vacation with his wife and child, trying to get away from the violence of a collapsing society. But that violence finds him anyway, and by the end of the movie, Max has become the exact thing he said he didn't want to be. It's a tragedy not because the people Max kills in revenge for killing his family don't deserve it, but because seeking violent sadistic revenge is damaging to Max. That is not what he needs in order to heal from the loss of his wife and child. What he needs is to take the risk of human connection again. This is what he starts groping toward in the following two movies and fully realizes in Fury Road.

But Furiosa doesn't have the same arc. Her story in Fury Road is about how a few people struggling against their oppressor can be the catalyst that brings down a whole regime. Furiosa getting to rip Joe's face off is fucking satisfying, and it's supposed to be! So it's a bit weird, then, to spend an entire movie giving her a backstory that not only is not about Joe at all, but implies that seeking and getting revenge against Dementus for killing her mother and Jack is what made her into the person we see in Fury Road.

Aside from questions of revenge, what I thought Furiosa's goal was going to be is set up in the beginning of the movie. "No matter what happens, find your way home." Very clear objective there. And then we see her try to get home like, 1.5 times. I thought we were well set up to follow the tried and true film story format of "simple goal, big obstacles, high stakes." I wanted to see her trying over and over again to get home, and being thwarted in different ways every time. I wanted to see grief and guilt over her mother's death turn her mother's last command into a mission for which she would sacrifice anything (and anyone) else. I wanted to see her justify working for Joe and accumulating power in the violent world of the Citadel as what she has to do in order to get home. I wanted to see "Have you done this before?" "Many times." But we didn't really get that either.

Ultimately, I think the least frustrating way to think about the film--which the film itself encourages--is as one of many possible Wasteland legends about a character called Furiosa. Maybe it happened this way. Maybe it didn't. Maybe this is the Furiosa we see in Fury Road. Maybe it isn't. It all depends on how much you believe of the History Man's tales.

#mad max #furiosa #furiosa a mad max saga #mad max fury road #spoilers #furiosa spoilers #story structure

666 notes · View notes

goxjo · 4 months ago

Text

⊹ ࣪ ˖𝜗ৎ ♥︎ ꒰ 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 + 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥 ꒱ ♥︎ 𝜗ৎ˖ ࣪⊹

⟢ ﹒ just the wind breaker boys comforting you through a tough time ┆ alternatively, some soft kinks / sensual acts with the wb boys <3

ft. togame & kaji ┆ umemiya & endo here

cw. hurt / comfort smut, all of these could’ve been much longer lol, f! bodied reader, no reader pronouns. togame cw ┆ shower sex, kinda rough, slight overstimulation, soap play? lol. kaji cw ┆ mutual aftercare, pussyjob, implied rough sex, bruising, guilty! kaji, slight masochistic reader, rough to soft, guided touching. nsfw content under the cut, minors do not interact (18+)

a/n. one. I wanted to use these banners !!!! two. I had the hurt, (been feeling ehhhh for a while now lol) all I desperately needed was the comfort !!! AND three. this is my first wb piece on this blog :’)

ੈ♡‧₊˚ TOGAME + SHOWER SEX

He knows you’ve been crying in the shower, hiding your tears behind the running water, sobs muffled by the patter of the water on your tiled bathroom floor. But he can see it in your eyes. It hurts him a little to think you don’t trust him enough to at least let him know you’ve been crying, let alone the reason behind it.

Still, he doesn’t pry. He just times it well enough to station himself and have your stuff ready by the time you need to step into your shared bathroom.

“Jo, what—”

“Shh, c’mere.” He pulls you into the tightest embrace, and it turns out that all it takes is the tiniest speck of attention from him until you’re falling apart, crumbling into his touch. “I know, I know. Let it all out.”

Your tears pool on his clothing, saltwater leaving a damp spot on his chest but he doesn’t budge. The way he pats your head feels like you’re a dirty ragged cloth and he’s gently wringing out all the hurt. You realize that what you needed all this time was this — his touch, and a few kind words to go along with it.

He helps you out of your clothes, discarding his own last before he takes your hand as you both step into the shower. Warm water runs through your naked bodies, hair getting damper by the second, and not a second sooner, you feel his erection pressing from behind you.

“It’s been a while,” he whispers, his nose flat against your cheek, and you feel your heart sink upon realizing you’ve neglected him in your isolation. “I don’t blame you,” as if he heard your thoughts, he murmurs as he plants warm and hazy kisses on your cheek. He nuzzles his face into yours, your back pressed against his broad chest, while big hands lather your body slick with soap.

Whether it’s the rising steam or him that’s making it harder for you to breathe, you’re unsure. But at this moment, he alone is the antidote to your torment, and the cause of the heat pooling between your legs.

“Need you to rely on me a little, ‘kay?”

“Okay, Jo.” You lean back, hooking a hand around his nape, his undercut prickling your palm as you run your fingers through his head of hair. His mouth captures yours, plunging you into a deep, open-mouthed kiss.

“Tell me you need me,” he groans, forehead resting on yours.

“I nee-h-eed you, Jo.” Your jaw loses its bolts, mouth forming an ‘o’ when he begins to rub sloppy circles on your clit. Your slick butters his fingers so easily, he slides into your slippery hole with no restraint — not from you and certainly not from your pussy. His cock twitches behind you, warm tip leaking pre-cum down your back.

“Ohh!” He presses your soapy body up against the glass, tits flat against the screen. Water wells up on your chest, streaming along your hands and your cheek.

“Mmffuuuuck.” Your breaths fog up the screen, running water spewing from your mouth while you take the stretch of his hard cock. Your head spins from the overstimulation. Every single rock of his hips splashes water every which way, and every single pump forms a lewd, foamy portrait of your body on the bathroom glass.

“Gonna fuck all the hurt away, baby.”

ੈ♡‧₊˚ KAJI + MUTUAL AFTERCARE + PUSSYJOB

“Hey, we’re good.” Kaji’s voice snaps you out of your heightened daze, but not quite enough to wash off the tickling sensation left in your cunt from having orgasms one after another. You could never bring yourself to match Kaji’s pace no matter how hard you tried. It’s as if he has tanks upon tanks of stamina reserves. Not that you’re complaining when every fucking time his cock stretches you out feels crazy good.

“We’re good,” you hum back, and Kaji takes your reassurance to heart. He covers your shoulders with a robe, planting soft kisses on your lips while you take time to collect yourself. And soon enough, your breaths have grown heavy from the semi-familiar stinging sensation you feel all over your body.

You know Kaji forgets how strong he is sometimes. He knows that, too.

A single rough night with him is enough to cover yourself in bruises — from the marks left by his fingers digging into the mass of your thighs, the trail of bites on your shoulders down to your chest from when he just couldn’t help himself, to the swollen imprint of his hands around your arms when he pinned your hands above your head.

You hesitantly stare at yourself in the mirror, worried about what Kaji will think. But you have to look at the aftermath of last night on top of today, letting your robe drop just enough to expose your shoulders. Seeing yourself is like seeing a rough timeline of last night’s events. He can barely look you in the eye when he hears you hiss as you run your fingers across the offended parts of your skin.

“Ren?” You look at your guilt-ridden partner through the mirror.

“Tsk,” he clicks his tongue, thick eyebrows knitting together as he puts his hands in his pockets, as if to keep himself from touching you.

“Hey, now~” You walk up to him as you cover yourself up. Both of your hands soothe his strong chest, but he doesn’t budge. You cup his face, thumb stroking his cheek, prompting him to fix his eyes on you. “Baby, look at me,” you whisper.

And he does, his rough gaze instantly melting the moment his eyes meet with yours.

“We’re good.” You plant a kiss on his chest once, on his neck twice, hand cupping his face, preventing him from looking away again, and waiting for him to say it back.

“We’re good.” His voice is devoid of faith, in sharp contrast to how you answered him back earlier but you know he’s really trying to convince himself. And you know better than to let his dark thoughts linger long enough for him to actually believe he could ever hurt you.

“I love you, Ren.”

“I love you too.” That’s really all he needs to hear from you. But it doesn’t make it easier for him to look at what he’s done to you.

…

It takes you a little while to beg him to let you take control for once in an attempt to reassure your Kaji just how much you welcome his touch — and you mean every single one.

And though he gives in, he’s still unable to meet your gaze, even as you begin to straddle either side of his lap while he sits on the edge of the bed.

He’s stiff as a board, hands balled to a fist, hellbent on not touching you tonight even though he’s betrayed by his own wants, his hard cock serving as your mount.

“I’ll make you feel good, ‘kay?”

“Ohh,” he groans at the slow rock of your hips back and forth, your own juices coating his full length. It takes all of his might not to flip you over and make you take all of him from behind. And he’s so close to breaking if not for your own hands that catch him off guard, making him look into your eyes once again. You reach for his hands, slowly guiding them how and where you like to be touched.

You run his hands across your chest, down to your stomach, your legs, and back up to your breasts, palms alternating between pressing, massaging, and cupping. He grunts, cock twitching beneath you as you pick up the pace running your slick folds along his cock. And as if a switch flicked in his brain, he finds solace in your own guided touch, knowing your hands could leave remnants of its tenderness on his, and he’s able to touch you without hurting you.

“I’m so in love with you,” he whispers under his breath.

“So am I.”

#wb x reader #wind breaker #wb smut #wind breaker smut #wind breaker x reader #tojame jo #togame jo x reader #togame x reader #togame smut #kaji ren #kaji ren x reader #kaji x reader #kaji smut #tw rough #!love letters #!wb #!togame #!kaji #꩜— interstellar communications

661 notes · View notes

boop-le-snoot · 1 month ago

Text

kinktober #6

Squealer

kinktober day six | roleplay + innocence kink | 18+, sleazy old man tony and you get into his mansion to, uh, listen to his records. it's all play-pretend. two dorks in love goofin' as usual | word count 2.2k | want more kinktober? click here

“I had no idea you had such a... Pimped-out crib, daddy,” you raised an eyebrow. A smirk tugged at your lips as you took in the interior of one of Tony's numerous mansions.

It was as if you had somehow been magically transported back to the '80s. The glam-rock, golden-days-of-Mötley-Crüe kind. You took off your high-heel Versace shoes, wiggling your toes on the soft zebra-hide imitation rug. A pristine Baldessari hung on a nearby wall, attracting your attention, thus allowing your boyfriend to sneak up on you with a drink in each hand.

“Mmm, I dunno,” Tony faux-pouted. “Seems a bit much even for me. I mean, cheetah and zebra print in one room?” He gestured towards the obscenely tacky couch. “What an eyesore. I should donate it to Goodwill. Maybe someone's grandma will want to remember her youth and get frisky after her old man finally lets her be and leaves for the pits.”

You snorted, accepting your drink. As Tony's arm snaked around your waist to bring your bodies together, you gave the room a good, long ponder.

“This feels very... Coke kingpin. You know, maximalism is making a comeback?” You said, referencing the resurgence of trashy 80s and McBling styles you've seen online. “I kinda dig it. Makes me want to go,” you threw your head back demurely onto his shoulder and batted your eyelashes, “oh no mister, I'm a good girl! I would never do such a thing! I thought we were going to hang out and listen to that record you promised...” You whined in your best baby voice, pouting your lips in a perverse imitation of innocence.

Behind you, Tony stiffened. And then you both laughed. Sputtering over your drinks, holding onto each other. No, it was a truly absurd thing.

But Tony Stark would not be Tony Stark if he couldn't convincingly sell just about any bullshit to anybody. With a flourish, his fingers dug into your waist as he straightened up and steered you towards the turntable.

“Why, but of course, sweetheart. Would make me a terrible host otherwise!” He spoke with a cheeky smile and sparkling eyes. A record was placed and the needle dropped, filling the room with sultry sounds of guitar strings strummed by nimble fingers. It was a song you both knew and loved.

Still laughing, you went for coy. “Oh, dear. My papa would have my head if he knew I listened to that!” Faking shyness, you gave your hips a sway and your skirt a twirl. “I kinda like it, though. Makes me think of someone...” You sighed, acutely aware of embers beginning to smoulder in Tony's dark eyes.

He leaned back to rest against a shelf. “Oh yeah, sweetheart?” He asked, sipping his whiskey without taking his eyes off you. “Special someone?”

“Uh-uh,” you swayed to the song, the bubbly in your blood making you slightly dizzy. It was a great tune, truly! Made you think all kinds of nasty things. “He makes me feel like nobody else does. Like in the song,” you flashed Tony the edge of your smile.

It made him take a calculated step towards you. Taking your arm, he pressed himself into your body, the outline of his budding erection resting against your hip. “I can make you feel even better, princess.” He toyed the strap of your dress.

Bait, hook and sinker.

You feigned nervousness as both of you pushed down on the breaking laughter and settled deeper into your allocated roles. “Mmm, I dunno. It's just a song and I've never done anything like that.”

“Like what?” Tony's fingers slowly pulled down the strap and stroked your bare shoulder. It felt electric.

“Like... Dirty,” you giggled, momentarily breaking character. Truly, this would be one of the least crazy things the two of you had done - just ask Steve!

Tony's empty glass landed on the shelf with a click. He took hold of your shoulders, massaging them gently to release you from the non-existent tension there, and placed his cheek upon your shoulder as you wobbled on your high heels.

“I'll be good to you, baby, I promise,” he rumbled, rubbing his scratchy beard on your tender skin. You giggled again, and Tony steered you towards the oversized couch. “We don't gotta do anything you don't wanna do,” he stressed, “but ya can't leave a man high and dry either. Capiche, Cupcake? Didn't you say you're a good girl?”

Wow, you silently thought to yourself, Tony was a gem amongst rocks. This role suited him to a, perhaps, scandalous amount. The sparkle of mischief in his eye, the sleazy twist to his grin. It promised lots and lots fun.

“I am a good girl,” you stressed, even as he sat you down atop his lap, your short dress hiked so far it barely covered your flimsy underwear.

It was an absolute lie and Tony knew it. He gave you his roundest eyes yet as his hand crawled over your thigh and up under your skirt, palming the lace of your panties with a gesture both posessive and questioning.

“Yeah?” His eyebrows shot up. “You sure 'bout that? 'Cause good girls don't come into strange guy's houses with their tiny lacy panties soaked.” He chided, thumbing the spreading wet spot at your front. Your face flushed in earnest as you fought to clamp your thighs shut over his hand, which did very little to deter him from wiggling his fingers against your cunt. “Don't be ashamed, darlin'. It's perfectly natural.”

You blinked, wide-eyed, awestruck by your boyfriend's commitment to the role. He really was unfairly good at everything he did!

“I don't know, mister,” you finally said. “My daddy said...”

Visibly fighting an eruption of laughter, Tony said. “I'm ya daddy for the night, honey. And I say it's okay.”

Fearing your own giggles making an untimely comeback, you conceded. “If you say so.” And loosened the hold on his hand, allowing him to stroke about the outside of your panties. Your cunt blossomed, fully interested in this sleazy caricature of over the top version of Tony's famed lover boy charm. “I just... Dunno what to do.”

The two of you were beginning to get impatient, if judging from the way his completely erect cock nudged at your side.

“Relax, darlin'. I'll make you feel good,” he bit your shoulder gently as his hand worked its way into your panties and between your outer lips. Tony circled your clit with slippery fingers, delighting in the quiet moans that left your lips, and finally, finally slipped two fingers inside of your sopping cunt. You arched. He groaned. “Fuck, baby, you grip like a vice.”

You flexed your muscles there, intimately familiar with the bumps and valleys of his calloused fingers, and subtly tried to sway your hips to give some much needed attention to your neglected clit. Tony was having none of it. Patting your bottom, he ushered you off his lap, and stuck his fingers in his mouth as he watched you stand up shakily on your tall heels.

“Undress for me,” he ordered, releasing your fingers from his mouth with a pop that added heat to your already flushed cheeks. “Slowly, baby. Don't rush.”

You did just that, sliding the straps of your dress completely off your arms. It was hard to take eyes off Tony for even a second. In the moment, he embodied his character sinfully: blazer and two top buttons of his tight-fitting shirt undone, it was the playboy billionaire of days past that sat in this kitschy living room of a forgotten mansion in Beverly Hills.

His brown eyes watched you shed your dress hungrily as the tent of his slacks rose high and higher to a point where he draped a leisurely hand over it and gave himself an unselfconscious squeeze through his pants. You stood before him in nothing but your heels and lacy thong, preparing to slide the last scrap of fabric down your legs.

“No, leave the rest on,” he said after a moment of contemplation.

“What now, mister?” You gave him a crooked grin, looking coyly at his tented trousers.

“Get down on your knees, baby,” he rasped, offering you a generous hand as you wobbled to sit demurely before him. A picture perfect form of innocence - you batted your lashes and fought the urge to reach for his trousers and swallow him down whole. Tony seemed to be having similar thoughts, as he wordlessly placed your hand on top of his cock and bit his lip. “Take it out.”

You did so, genuinely fumbling with the zipper. The arousal was making your fingers shake and the champagne you had drank certainly did not help your coordination. But then he was out and hard and proud, and you found yourself licking your lips. Seemingly at a loss for words this once, Tony took the back of your head in his hand and scooted closer so his cock was within your reach.

Tentatively, you gave it a lick. Wasting any of the clear, salty fluid was where you drew the line. Tony shuddered.

“Keep doin' that, honey. You're being a very good girl.”

So you did. Kitten licks grew to be bolder as you wrapped your cherry tinted lips over the silken head of Tony's cock, receiving a generous pour of salty liquid for your troubles. Looking up at your man, he was watching you with parted mouth and shaking lips. You gave him a wink and began working him in earnest, producing another moan from him in an instant.

His hand went for your cheek. As suddenly as you'd began, you were pulled off of his cock.

“It'll be over before we even started if you keep doing that, honey,” he explained, breathless. It took a second for him to find his bearings and then he was standing up, looming over you with a naughty smirk and cock glistening in the yellow light, nothing but his trousers undone. “Lay back baby. Show me your pretty pussy.”

You did. The horrendously patterned carpet was soft under your back as you laid down and lewdly spread your legs, showcasing the darkened gusset to your boyfriend's heated stare. Your hands laid demurely atop your belly to top off the picture.

With a thud, Tony landed with his knees on the carpet. Moving aside the gusset if your panties, he bared your swollen cunt to his eyes and you hissed as cool air hit the soaked, heated flesh. Your clit twitched, prompting Tony to slide a finger over it. He savoured your shudder, quick to replace the digit with the tip of his cock.

A gasp left your lips. Unconsciously, your hips wiggled, beckoning Tony to where you needed him most.

“I'm not going to hurt you, baby,” he murmured, transfixed on the way your pussy stretched around the crown of his cock. It disappeared easily into the channel, aided by the moisture that had gathered while you serviced him. That first push was heavenly. You never wanted it to end even as he bottomed put within you, staining the front of his designer slacks with your juices.

You threw your arms around his shoulders unprompted as he began to move. Slowly at first, savouring that first snug slide of your wet cunt over his hard cock, but picking up pace as your moans grew less breathy and more demanding. He always knew how to fuck you just right, hitting that sweet spot time after time with perfect precision until you unraveled, lax and warm, under him, the throb of your cunt allowing him to seek out his own release promptly.

Still inside you and rapidly softening, Tony finally burst into giggles, resting his sweaty forehead against your cheek as his body shook. It made the dam within you burst, too, intensified tenfold when the contractions of your abs made his soft cock slip out of you and seed drip into a puddle on the tacky carpet.

“We gotta tip the cleaning lady,” you snorted, aware of the sticky situation.

Tony just laughed harder, rolling over onto his back and bringing a palm to his forehead.

“Never change, honey. Ever.”

a/n: Thank you, @slothspaghettiwrites for the tiktok you sent me of that pimped out car! Haven't been able to get sleazy old man!Tony out of my head ever since. Tbh, Tony that is just a little sleazy is the best Tony. Even in the throes of Civil War angst that man was so unserious and low-key horny. It's sexy as fuck. So I dedicate this to you, Sloth, and to @persephonehemingway because we're both disgusting perverts for tony in a very similar way.

I genuinely forgot how easy it is for me to write Tony because I wrote this in like 2 hours. He's my best boy. I love him and I don't care that he doesn't even exist.

#tony stark smut #tony stark x reader #tony stark x you #female reader #mcu smut #going back to my roots here #this has been a long-standing fantasy of mine for over 12 years.#12 years carl #putting myself on blast here #having a raging daddy kink for him is not enough I NEED HIM TO BE SLEAZY AND BORDERLINE GROSS #aight who said that?? wasn't me

255 notes · View notes