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joelsdagger · 2 months ago

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only then, i am good || one shot

joel miller x f!reader

masterlist || ao3 || follow @joelsdaggerupdates for fic updates!

pairing: daddy jackson!joel x f!reader summary: you have a bad day in which it makes you question your worth. only joel can make you see the truth. warnings: jackson era [well into the tlou2 timeline but nothing bad happens], implied age gap [i warn you, joel is old old], angst [in the form of internal turmoil], feelings of guilt/burdening, established relationship, dd/lg dynamics, soft daddy dom!joel, daddy kink, praise kink, size kink, finger sucking, pet names galore [baby, sweetheart, little girl, angel] size kink, reader is hella needy, reader has pubic hair bc i said so, smidgen of cockwarming, just the tip mention, dubcon*, dacryphilia, unprotected piv, nipple play, belly bulge, creampie, joel is reader’s personal weighted blanket, fluff, aftercare. *reader is not in the right headspace to properly consent to piv but she’s a-okay with it! word count: 3.8k

a/n: i’ve been to emotional (and physical) hell and back (are we back? who knows) these last few weeks and it had me yearning for daddy jackson!joel. so this is what this is. it’s a tad different from my typical style of writing and it’s not betaed and very very loosely proofread (barely looked thru it while in the waiting room lol), so it’s probably shit but i hope you enjoy it nonetheless xx

You should’ve double-checked the lock. Triple-checked it. As always. Hand to God, it slipped your mind. You were tired. Achy and sleepy, and you just wanted to go home. Back to Joel. Curl your spent body into the thick, burly warmth of his and let him cradle you until the whole day wipes itself from memory.

You’ve been asking them for more responsibilities — a more serious role within Jackson, for months. After today, you’re sure they’ll never take you seriously. Never see you as one of them. They’re so much older and wiser — experienced. And you…well, you are not.

They never fuck up. Never make mistakes that would risk losing an important asset to this safe haven. And today you have. You fucked up. You don’t know how you forgot. It’s been your only job here, the only thing they let you have, and still — you messed it up.

You forgot to lock the stall door to the stable for one of the horses. And not only did the horse escape but now the town is technically down one patrolman. You have completely thrown off the patrolling schedule, one that was meticulously crafted and has been in place long before you arrived in Jackson. It very rarely changed.

You offered to lend a hand, practically begged them to send you out with the rest of the search party. But Maria, Tommy, and Joel all told you to go home while they sent a group (of which included Joel and Tommy themselves) outside the gates, well past dusk, to go looking for him. You felt entirely useless.

Begrudgingly, you scurried home, a beaten puppy in need of licking one’s wounds. Feeling the weight of the day and the frustration that has accumulated over months suddenly seeping into your bones, and you just…broke. You crawled into bed, alone in the dark, and you cried for hours, your mind spiraled, turning over the mistake you made, again and again and again.

When it stops and the wracking sobs slow into shuddery hiccups, it’s only because you hear heavy footsteps in the hallway. Slow. Tired. But steady — sure. And that nauseating sensation in the pit of your stomach returns as the footsteps grow closer and closer.

The door creaks open slowly, pale yellow light from the hallway spills through the crack, your puffy eyes squint and flutter against the sudden light, shape of him vague in your blurry vision, but you know it’s him: tall frame, broad shoulders, pale skin, and dark features.

Joel.

You curl your body tighter, making yourself as small as possible. Close your eyes, and bury your tear-stained face back into the damp royal blue of his linens, the piney scent of him everywhere: his pillows, his sheets, his mattress, clouding your mind. You hear his footsteps as he rounds the bed, feel him reach over and switch on the lamp beside you. He grunts, his joints creak as you feel his weight sinking the edge of the bed, settling himself down in the ‘c’ shape your body had formed.

“We found him. Fella was out by Hidden Pines,” voice soft, almost cautious.

You nod silently, but you don’t look at him, not wanting to embarrass yourself even more, not wanting him to see how pathetic you look after spending hours upon hours sobbing into the pillows over a mistake you made.

A heavy hand cups your knee over the sheets, thumb stroking bone through the fabric there.

��It wasn’t your fault, baby.” He says, surely.

But you don’t really believe him.

You sniffle and tilt your face away from the tear-soaked pillows just enough so he can hear you. “Yes, it was. I was the last one in there. It’s my job to take the horses back and settle them in for the night. My job to make sure they stay in the stables. It’s been my job, my only job all this time, and I can’t even do that right,” you ramble, voice breaking, bottom lip wobbling, fat tears pricking your red eyes once again.

“No. You listen here,” he says sternly, feeling his body turn beside you, bed covers bunching up around your knees. “You did lock it, but the latch was loose, honey. Tommy and I tried ‘em. They’re due for a fixin’ n’ we should’ve been checkin’ ‘em, but that’s my job, not yours. This wasn’t on you, darlin’. You hear me?”

You avoid his eye and stay furled on the bed. Silence swells between you, and you fiddle with a stray thread in his sheets.

“He wasn’t supposed to take off like that, but he’s a younger horse,” he shrugs, and a sigh falls from his lips. “It happens. Whoever was mannin’ the wall tonight should’ve seen him. Many things were at play, baby. It wasn’t your fault.” He says in a matter-of-fact tone.

Your head snaps over your shoulder in a fury. “I could’ve helped fix it. I could’ve made it right,” you bite, shaky voice laced with venom. You don’t mean for it to sound so harsh, but it manages to stifle the sob that threatens to claw up your throat. And for a second, the irritation in your voice doesn’t rattle you until you notice Joel’s shoulders tense, and you regret it immediately.

A whirlpool of emotions swirls in your belly. A weird noise squeaks out from your lips as you try to fruitlessly blink away the sleep and salt in your eyes. You don’t want to cry in front of him. You bury your face into the pillow again, trying to muffle the sob-like groan as you cringe away from Joel, ashamed.

His hand drifts up your thigh, broad palm splayed across your flesh, his touch unwavering. “Sweetheart, the only reason I told you to stay here s’because it ain’t safe out there. The amount of infected may be less this time o’year but the cold…” He trails off, his grip tightening around the meat of your thigh unconsciously, “makes people meaner,” his voice grows unsteady at the thought.

You shiver, and you suspect he feels it. He clears his throat, and tender fingers brush the strands of hair out of your face, then they trail down, and you feel the cold roughness of his skin against the warm softness of yours as his calloused hand cups your jaw, tilting it to face him, forcing you to meet his eyes.

Your eyes pinch shut, and the dam breaks. You can’t bear to look at him. Your heart sits heavy in your chest, feeling the guilt creeping back in at his touch. His hands, usually warm, are now icy cold, and all you can think about is how you are the cause of it. He had been out in the cold longer than he needed to be because of you. You and he both know his worn bones can’t handle it, and yet, he went out there in the dead of winter as nightfall cloaked over Jackson to right your wrong, and it makes you feel terrible.

“Baby. Look at me,” he whispers softly.

You do, and through bleary eyes you meet his weary gaze. His lips are downturned into a frown, and with a twist in his brows, that worry line in the middle of his forehead materializes. You hate being the cause of it. Your heart plops to your stomach, your throat goes thick, something rising at the base of it.

“What do you need, sweetheart? Tell me,” he implores, his voice stern but soft, eyes shifting back and forth between yours — dark amber irises so warm, pleading.

Teach me to be good. “Just you, daddy – just need you,” you blubber, your voice innocent and small. Weak.

He knows exactly what you mean. You have been together long enough that he reads you like an open book. You watch as he wordlessly toes off his boots with a thud. Watch as he moves to stand to unbuckle his belt, dropping it to the floor with a soft clink, his jeans, jacket, and flannel following shortly after. Watch as he shifts onto the bed, bones crackling as he lowers himself and presses his broad form into you, his knees popping as they coax yours open. Watch as one of his hands drifts south between your bodies to grip the thick root of his cock while the other bunches up your nightgown to your navel, revealing your unobstructed cunt to him.

You whimper when the leaky head of his cock notches at the already slippery entrance of your cunt. He glides the wide cockhead between your folds, up and down, up and down, while the warmth of his breath fans across your face when his lips part to murmur, just the tip tonight, baby, s’not a good idea for you to take all o’me right now, alright?

You nod numbly. You don’t care how much he gives you — you just need to feel him. Need him to fix you. Need him to make the hurt you feel inside go away. Need him to search for the good. Maybe it’s there, buried deep in a place only he can find.

His hands find yours, pins them firmly above your head, and with his dark gaze holding yours, he very gently pushes his tip inside your tight, wet hole. His mouth pops open in a deep groan, and you catch it with a soft gasp of your own.

“There you go. S’that feel better, pretty baby?” He murmurs, his jaw ticks, brows twitch.

You nod desperately, your wide, glassy eyes going hooded. Your thighs tense around him, causing a little more of his cock to push inside, making you whimper and squirm beneath him.

“Good. Now just listen to my voice. Just focus on me, right here,” he grunts haggardly, voice so low and commanding. And that alone makes your brain go fuzzy.

You try to focus all your energy on his voice and the heavy weight of him on top of you and the fat tip of his cock stretching your too little hole open, but suddenly, he pulls out, and you almost whine at his absence.

But Joel doesn’t give you enough time.

Your body moves up the bed with a jolt, gasping when his hips push forward with more force, filling your cunt with the head of his cock, and then some more, only to slip out of you again immediately after. He’s toying with you, and he’s doing so because he knows you really need this.

He slips his cockhead gently back inside you, and you whine at the soft squelch your slicken pussy makes. The two of you revel in the lewd, wet sounds that ricochet through the room, all while never breaking eye contact.

“My little girl just needed me to fuck all the bad thoughts away, hm?” he breathes, his nose brushes against yours.

“Mmhm,” you sigh, cunt flittering around him.

“Needed me to stretch out her sweet little hole and make everything better, s’that it?”

You nod frantically, moaning breathlessly.

Joel growls. “Say yes, daddy,” he commands you softly, his fingers squeezing yours.

“Y—ye—yes, d–daddy.” Your words come out broken in between the slow rolls of his hips, but by the smirk that tugs on his lips, you know he’s proud of you anyway.

“Good girl,” he praises, his touch featherlight as his fingers push the stray strands of hair away from your forehead, and the scruff of his chin tickles your nose as he lays an open-mouthed kiss between your furrowed brows.

“But daddy—” you start to protest, scrunching your nose.

Joel harrumphs as he pulls back. All of his features pull into a stern look, and to stop you, the pad of his roughened thumb sweeps across your cheek and sinks between your parted lips.

“Na-uh. No fightin’ with daddy,” he presses gently.

By instinct, your lips close around his digit, sucking it into your mouth and swirling your tongue around the thick of it, tasting the salty, woodsy flavor of him, and it only feeds the foggy haze in your mind more.

Spit pools at the corner of your lips. His thumb moves in and out of your mouth, matching the rhythm of his thrusts as he fucks his cockhead in and out of your hole. Your mind begins to blur, but there’s still a storm stirring in your swollen eyes, and Joel, as always, can see it.

“Alright, this ain’t workin’,” he sighs exasperatedly.

And you think he’s utterly fed up with you not obeying him. He unsticks his body from yours, and your eyes search his face — the lines beside his eyes, the hairs in his brows, the muscles around his lips — trying to decode the emotion that flits across his features. Though, as expected, it’s near impossible to read him. Joel may have been able to crack you open, and although the years he has spent in Jackson have managed to soften him up — tiny cracks in his stony exterior over time — he remains inscrutable.

For a moment, you think he’s going to scold you. Tell you you’re no good for him anymore. You wouldn’t blame him. You can’t seem to do anything right. Maybe he thought he wanted to take you apart, bit by careful bit. But what if he peered through the gap and saw something he didn’t like? What if he had a change of heart — now that he stepped back and assessed the damage? What if the severity of it was too much to mend? Burden too heavy to carry. He doesn’t deserve that. He deserves someone good. Someone not in need of fixing. Someone unbroken.

But Joel surprises you. His hand retracts from your face, and instead wraps his arm around your middle, maneuvering you onto his thighs so you're straddling him. His free hand fists the hem of your nightgown, and in one swift motion, tugs the fabric over your head and tosses it aside to join his pile of clothes on the floor. His heavy hands find your waist once again, and with the head of his cock still buried deep in between your legs, he sits up and back against the headboard, grunting a low, alright, c'mere, as he takes you with him with ease.

You cling to him like a koala, body putty and pliant as he brings your weak arms to wrap around his neck. And then, a firm hand moves to cradle the back of your neck, lets you nuzzle your wet face into the dip in his shoulder, and breathe in the comfort of his scent while his other traverses the line of your spine.

Slow but steady, Joel bucks his hips up, up, up, until the entirety of his thick length works its way into the slick slide of your cunt. Your soft thatch of curls meets his, softly grazes your clit, and you writhe in his arms, sniffle, and whimper brokenly against his shoulder, but sure, gentle hands pull you into his chest tighter. You feel the strong drum of his heart against yours, thrumming against each other: ga-gung, ga-gung, ga-gung, pace quickening, like they're trying to catch up, trying to sync. Your body melts into his. Skin to skin, heart to heart, heat of your cunt to the heat of his cock; and then suddenly, two become one.

“Shh, shhh, I know, baby, I know. You got it,” he whispers, as he begins to rock you back and forth, back and forth, lulling you gently back into the haze, and everything finally fades away.

He presses a kiss right behind your ear. “Therrrre we go, just take it, good girl,” he murmurs as a heavy hand pets your hair. And whether he’s talking about his cock or his praise, you obey regardless. Your cunt sucks the heat of his cock in deep. Let him fuck himself into you; let his warmth smolder you until your cunt ignites. Let it roar and burn and spread through your system like wildfire. Let him make you good.

The tips of his fingers move through your hair in small ministrations, gently scratching away at your skull. “Daddy—s–so big—” you whimper, your fingers pulling the hair at the nape of his neck, tears welling up in your eyes as something low in your belly begins to churn.

“Shhh, angel, it’s okay. I know, s’a lot,” he soothes, feeling his deep voice reverberate against your chest. Your cunt contracts at his praise, and the steady pace of his hips falters briefly; he groans deeply when he feels his tip choked tight within your walls, “you’re doin’ so good for me, sweetheart, so good.”

He continues his shallow thrusts while he rocks you in his arms. There’s a low static buzz in your ears, but you can still hear the perverse chant that manages to fall from your lips — one that grows louder with every roll of his hips, daddy, daddy, daddy, daddy. And in turn, he murmurs incessant blabbers of, you’re okay, angel, daddy’s here, daddy’s gotcha, into your hair, punctuating every one of his words with a soft kiss to your temple and a slow buck of his hips.

The tip of his cock nudges that soft ridge deep inside you, and he feels your cunt flutter around him. “You gonna come for me, angel, hm? You gonna be a real good girl for daddy and let me feel this drippy little pussy come all over me?” He coos.

“Uh-huh,” you murmur.

Deft fingers curl around the back of your neck, and with the slightest of pressure, he squeezes once, gently instructing you to use your words. A silent command.

“Y-yes, daddy, I prom–I promise, I wanna be good. I wanna be good,” you mewl.

His nose drags along the side of your face, down, down, down, until his heated lips meet your pulse point. “Go on, baby, let go n’ get daddy all messy. Show daddy how good of a girl you are,” he rambles, his voice a low vibration, goosebumps prickling in its wake.

With your tight cunt full and impaled on his cock, your clit throbs, eager for more friction. You rut your hips against his, humping him like a dog in heat as you rub your puffy pearl against the graying curls there, smearing him in your slick just as he insisted.

And within seconds, your body constricts, navel pulls taut, and then something fiery in your belly erupts. Your body begins to tremble as stars burst behind your eyelids, liquid heat turns your mind and body molten, melting away completely with the force of your release.

“Daaaddy,” you cry, lips quivering. Your muscles go lax, and your body slumps in his hold, feeling the last of your energy leaving you. Your head lulls back, and his hand slides up the base of your neck in time to catch it in his massive palm.

He clutches you tight, marveling at your fucked-out form in his arms while babbling praises of, ohhh–that’s it, that’s it, good job, baby, such a good fuckin’ girl— daddy’s so proud of you, as warm tears roll down your face. And it only spurs him on.

His languid strokes speed up, your body jolts above him violently, weeping cunt fluttering repeatedly around him. Your mouth falls open, wanton moans escape past your parted lips as he fucks you harder. “Christ, that’s it, that’s my girl. Look at you, perfect little thing,” he pants, coaxing you through your orgasm.

His eyes drop quickly to watch the bounce of your tits, nipples peaked and gleaming with beads of sweat. He dips his head to one sticky breast, and with a flick of his hot tongue, he laps up the salt on your skin.

It elicits a sharp gasp from you, your chewed fingernails desperately trying to claw at him, your body arching against his mouth, and you feel him grin against the curve of your breast. His mouth drifts, wraps his whiskered lips around your other swollen nipple, tongue swirls the pointed bud, teasing you with a graze of his teeth across the wet peak before nipping it, tugging the stiffened point ever so slightly between his teeth.

“Daddy–oh!” You choke on a moan, and your spent pussy clenches around him so tight, your cunt is almost forcing him out. His hips buck into you harder in response, his thrusts growing more erratic as he seeks his own release.

Joel hisses, mouth releasing your tit with a wet pop, “sweet Jesus, m’gonna give it to you real good, baby—like you deserve, fuck—”

He's cut off by the strangled groan that rips through his chest, his back arches off the headboard, and you feel him twitch. His grasp on your enervated form tightens, and then a blazing heat spreads inside you. His sweaty forehead falls to your dampened chest, the swell of your breasts cushioning the drop of his head, his body convulsing as he pumps upwards into your core. Cock pulsing and spasming within your walls as he continues to spill inside you, your belly swelling and set to burst full of his seed.

Joel slumps back against the headboard, his arms loosen, but they don’t release you, just holds you there on top of him as he presses hasty kisses and whispers shaky sweet nothings into your hair while his hot seed dribbles out around his length, turning the hair at the root of his cock into a pool of sticky milky white.

You don’t know if it’s minutes or hours that pass by as you stay limp in his lap, breathing in the sweat and sex on his skin as you snuggle back into his neck, the heat a low simmer. But when he runs a warm, wet rag between your legs and uses the same one to wipe your mixed wet off of his shaft before he tucks you in with a peck to your lips, the tip of your nose, a long kiss to your forehead, and lays himself on top of you with the full weight of him, pulling the comforter up to trap the heat of your bodies between you, sore cunt plugged with his softened cock once more, you know that he makes you feel whole. Not ruined or broken. Not stupid or useless or helpless. And in truth, it's all you’ve ever known with him.

As you slip gently into the waiting black, small fingers that draw circles into his silver curls come to a slow, you think you hear a quiet sigh — feel his lips lazily form around the words against your tacky skin — something of, you are good, angel tucked away into the valley between your naked breasts like a secret. And you think you believe him, and for now, that’s enough for you.

#i'm fighting for my life so if anyone sees my husband tell his ass to come home asap!!!!#anyway this goes out to my homies who are perfectionists who think the world will implode over one small mishap #it won't and ily ❤️‍🩹#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #jackson!joel x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #daddy!joel #tw daddy kink #noelle's workshop

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logansdoll · 6 months ago

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thinking about logan x reader who’s literally the most introverted but bluntest person he’s ever met. that meet-cute (if it could be called that…?) would be entertaining as hell

cottontail

wolverines are known to prey on rabbits... which would explain why Logan was looking at you like that.

CW: fluffy fluff, heavily suggestive, profanity, i kinda changed it up a bit, takes place after X-Men (2000), reader is a bit of a personality, reader also has a bunny mutation, again kinda iffy on how this turned out, etc. (@OstarwomenO for the inspiration)

"And, finally, the gym," Ororo finished, motioning toward the door. "Much like the Danger Room, we use it to train or spar, but strictly without powers."

Logan cocked a brow, ears perking at the faint sound of music coming from the other side of the door, along with the rhythmic thuds of limbs slamming against a mat.

'Huh...'

Ororo insisted on giving him the official tour of the mansion now that he was back from his trip to Alkali, seeing as she never got the chance to when he first arrived.

And, of course—Logan being Logan—he waved her off, insisting he'd be able to figure it out.

But the woman did not take no for an answer.

"Someone in there?" he asked, shifting his cigar to the side of his mouth as his thumb jutted toward the door.

"Just (y/n)," she shrugged, an amused smile rising her to lips. "It's actually kinda ironic, she rolled in about an hour before you did yesterday."

That was the new smell he picked up on.

It was the same one the hallway was currently drowning in—not that he was complaining.

It was sweet and musky, with faint, floral notes and a smidgen bit of earth—like taking a breath of fresh air in the middle of a meadow.

"And I didn't run into her?" Logan raised a brow, feigning indifference.

Ororo let out a dry chuckle, as if she was in on a joke he wasn't, "(y/n)'s a... character. She kinda does her own thing around here."

Character?

Forget indifference, the man was intrigued.

"I can introduce you if you'd like," she nodded, her eyes widening slightly, remembering something. "Fair warning, she says whatever she wants. So just... don't be shocked when she says something appalling. She's a sweetheart once you get to know her."

'Jesus...'

She made it sound like he was about to meet some sort of feral grizzly bear.

Logan shrugged, and she let out a sigh, pressing the keypad and opening up the door to reveal you.

Grizzly?

No.

Feral?

Entirely possible.

With a wide grin, you weaved around, dodging jabs from the automated dummy before back-flipping onto the wall and pushing off like a spring.

Tackling the robot, you slammed its head into the ground, winding for a second blow when it suddenly bucked you off.

You recovered quickly, shifting in mid-air so you landed on your feet, before launching another attack.

Jumping high, you landed right on the dummy's shoulders, locking your thighs around its neck before effortlessly throwing around your body weight, sending it crashing to the ground

But that wasn't it.

With a soft grunt, and a small twist of your legs, you popped its head right off in a flourish of sparks and circuits—the action sending a warm tingle through Logan's stomach.

'Damn...'

You pulled yourself up off the ground with a laugh, grabbing the robot's body and tossing it in a pile in the corner—which consisted of at least twenty others.

"Finally," you sighed, jokingly, as the two entered further.

You sauntered over to your boombox and cut the music, dusting off your hands.

"This is a disgrace. How the hell are the kids supposed to learn from these things, 'Roro? They barely last two minutes."

She playfully rolled her eyes, fighting off her smile as she pulled you into a hug, "I hope you know you're paying for those."

You chuckled, giving her a loving pat on the back, "Put 'em on my tab."

Logan was still transfixed.

In all his years, he had never seen a mutant like you before.

(h/l), (h/c) hair, plump lips, heavenly curves, made evident by your workout clothes, or slight lack thereof, stark white bunny ears, equally white tail, paired with alluring (e/c) eyes.

You were dripping in beauty and confidence.

Logan, so mesmerized, didn't even realize that you'd already cruised your way over, and were now standing directly in front him.

"I take it you're Logan," you smiled, shamelessly staring at him. "If I knew you were this handsome, I woulda introduced myself sooner."

"(n/n)," Ororo scolded, pinching the bridge of her nose.

'Here we go...'

"Is that so?" Logan smirked, amused by your blunt start to the conversation.

"Hell yeah," you nodded, shifting you weight on your hips

You weren't stupid.

You saw the way he was staring at you, and you heard the way his heart frenzied when you walked over.

So what's to say you couldn't have a little fun?

After all, it wasn't every day you'd meet someone as sexy as Mr. Tall, Dark, and Brooding.

"Of course, I could always do that over a few rounds."

His brow quirked with interest, eyes slowly flitting over your body at the proposition.

"On the mat, that is..." you chuckled, reading him loud and clear as you turned to walk toward the sparring area, stretching out your arms.

"That works, too," he grinned, tugging off his leather jacket.

"You two are doing this? Really?" Ororo groaned, resting a hand on her hip.

"Yup."

"She asked for it."

Ororo sighed, deciding to check herself out for the day and head for the door.

"Y'know what? Knock yourselves out. I'm gonna take a nap," she waved, turning the corner. "Don't break anything."

Logan scoffed, cracking his neck as he stepped onto his side of the circle, "No promises..."

You grinned, pleasantly surprised by his seriousness.

Many assume that because of your mutation, you're just some helpless little rabbit—as kids, you and Scott got into a huge argument when you caught him pulling his punches.

But Logan seemed ready to throw down, a fact that not only excited you, but made the man move up a great many rungs in your respect ladder.

"You sure you want this?" you smirked, lowering yourself into a split, stretching your legs. "I don't go easy."

'Goddamn, how flexible is she—'

"Neither do I," he snapped himself back, playing it off with a chuckle. "Let's see how long you last."

You scoffed, tongue in cheek as you stood up, shifting into a defensive stance.

'I'm gonna kick your ass, mutton chops."

"I'd like to see ya try, cottontail."

#james howlett #james howlett x reader #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #mcu #mcu x reader #wolverine x reader #x men #x men x reader #wolverine

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soldateins · 14 days ago

Text

"Good Mornin', Sunshine." ┃ Arthur Morgan x Female!Reader

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Female!Reader (Smut 18+)

Summary: Arthur wakes you up, and then wakes you up, if you know what I’m sayin’.

Tags: Smut (18+! MDNI), fingering, female receiving oral, kissing, a smidgen of dry humping

Word count: 2,323

Author’s Note: First time writing for Arthur, and I’m only one chapter into the game, so I hope this is enjoyable??? I’m down bad for this cowboy UGH. It’s also my first smut piece, so, fresh territory. Still figurin’ it all out!

AO3 Link

You stir slightly in your bedroll, the faint glow of the morning sun through the fabric of your tent setting your mind alight with swirls of gold and orange. You stretch your arms above your head with a yawn, your legs shifting and emerging partially from your blanket. The fogginess in your mind becomes vaguely littered with the distant sounds of horses riding into camp, the chatter of pleased voices, the familiar clinks and frictious sounds of deer being slipped off of the backs of horses and slung onto Pearson’s butcher table.

Your slumberish listening slowly hones in on one particular frequency; heavy boots striding towards your tent. The flap of your tent whips open but shuts just as quickly and before you can process anything, Arthur’s large body is crawling on top of you, and he plants his elbows either side of your head with a grunt, a flurry of fresh air and shaving soap following him in. An oscitant groan rumbles in your chest, and you frown, displeased at his disturbance. Your eyes remain closed, head lolled sideways, but your legs part as he nestles his hips between them. A throaty chuckle bubbles up in his chest at your sour expression.

“Good mornin’, Sunshine.”

The denim of his jeans rubs against your inner thighs and he pushes his face into the crook of your neck, taking a big breath in. The sensation tickles you but feels like more of an annoyance in your groggy state, making you huff and turn your face away more. A low hum sounds in his throat. You feel him shift and hear the clunking of spurs as he pulls his boots off and throws them to the foot of the bedroll, chucking his hat along with them.

“Mm- Arthur, quit movin’…” You croak, reaching around his broad shoulders clumsily, wanting him to settle down so you can continue snoozing but when he leans back down his rough hands are straight on you, one curling a clump of your hair around his fingers, the other massaging your shoulder beneath his palm.

“You’re the one who’s always yappin’ about ‘No boots on the bedroll’.” He murmurs, bristled chin scratching at the soft skin of your neck.

“How’d’ya sleep, hm?” His hand in your hair wanders down to your waist, calluses catching against the fabric of your chemise, “You’re all nice and warm.”

“Arthur… I’m tryna sleep, God damn it-” You grumble, shoving his shoulder gently.

“Don’t be grousin’ now, sleepyhead. You ain’t the one who’s been out huntin’ all mornin’…” His words buzz against your skin, and his fingers walk up your thigh before slipping under the hem of your chemise, fingertips grazing your hip, tickling. You shriek and open your eyes, only to be met with his grin. You huff.

“Arthur, quit it-” You go to slap his hand away but he just slides it further up your dress, leaving goosebumps in its wake as you squirm and despite yourself, begin to giggle. He laughs smugly.

“There she is-” He mouths at your neck lazily, and you feel his teeth as he smiles, the sensation diffusing your giggles into a hum, “-Sounds like you’re wakin’ up a little bit.”

“Arthur…” You breathe his name reverently, eyes fluttering closed, lips parting.

“How about I wake you up niiiice ‘n’ slow, hm, gorgeous?”

He leaves a trail of cooling saliva down your neck to your chest as he moves to pull the straps of your chemise off of your shoulders and down. He hums, kissing around the curve of one of your breasts before slowly closing his mouth around the nipple. You release a shaky breath, and when you open your eyes, you find his own, watching you. His lips curve into a smirk as he starts to gently suck. You whine, back arching.

“Mm, Arthur…”

His name slips from you more desperately now, your skin starting to tingle, breath hitching. His fingers stroke down the sides of your arms, brushing over the backs of your hands before finding the hem of your chemise. He pushes it up until it pools about your stomach. His touch is soft as he palms at your thighs, pushing them open, coaxing you languorously into the wettening heat of your arousal.

He releases your nipple, his voice low and hushed, “You’re such a sight in the mornin’, y’know. All mussed up, and your mouth ain’t awake enough to be smart.”

You chuckle out a “Shut up”, bringing your hands up and threading them through his hair, before pulling him down into a clumsy kiss. It’s sloppy, open-mouthed, familiar, and you both moan. You feel his hips roll into yours, sending a shudder of heat up through you, your mouth opening further. Arthur’s breaths puff ardently against your face, infused with coffee as his tongue snakes about in your mouth. One of his hands slips beneath your drawers and he dips his fingers gingerly into your core before stroking up your slit at a leisurely pace, drawing a gasp from you.

“God, Arthur-” Your speech is garbled by him planting wet kisses on and around your mouth, moving lower and lower until he’s sucking gently at the soft skin of your breast again. You whine, hands twitching on his shoulders.

“Mhm, didn’t need much to ready you this mornin’, hm, darlin’?”

He presses the pads of his index and ring fingers against your swelling clit, starting to rub lazy circles, and your skin prickles as you moan, melting into the bedroll beneath you.

You lift your head a little, taking in the sight of his mouth on your breast, of your hips rolling into his hand, it makes you shiver. Arthur’s free hand comes up to palm at your breast as he trails kisses down your ribs and then your stomach as he kneels before you. You grab at his shoulder with one hand, the other running through his hair, and he can feel the heady mixture of adoration and lasciviousness in the gesture. He drags his fingers back down to your core, dipping them in yet again, just enough to make your back arch. Arthur pulls away, and you bite your lip as he takes the waistband of your drawers between his fingers. You lift your hips, allowing him to pull them down and off. He drops them to the side and sinks down onto his elbows before your open thighs. He scoops his strong arms under your thighs, lifting your legs a little, and he mouths at your inner thighs, his facial hair making you moan out a laugh. He hums lowly against your skin in response, enjoying you unabashedly. His kisses grow closer to your core and your hands find his hair again as he buries his head between your legs, closing his mouth around your clit and pulsing his tongue against it.

“Oh, my-” You whimper, your bosom rising and falling as you pant. He kneads at your thighs as he mouths at you, keeping you firmly against him, and then he starts to rock on his knees a little, providing a steady but feverish rhythm. A high, airy huff escapes you and he grunts, his eyebrows furrowing and eyes closing, focusing fully on how you whine, how you’re steadily soaking his beard. Nothing else matters to him right now, not even his own arousal - just the sensations of you, of pleasuring you. You’re slipping into a sweltering haze, head falling back, fingers clutching his hair, thighs shifting against the sides of his head. You whine when you feel him move, one arm releasing one of your legs, his mouth leaving your clit as he gasps.

A slick sound draws your dreamy focus down to him, and you're met with the sight of him wetting his fingers, the thick digits sunk into his glistening mouth. His eyes are trained on you as he pulls his fingers from his mouth and brings them back to your core, using his other arm hooked under your thigh to open your legs further. He leans his face against your thigh, kissing gently and looks up at you as he pushes his fingers into you until his knuckles brush your skin. You let out a strangled moan, and your grip on his hair tightens, drawing a groan from deep in his throat. He curls his fingers inside of you and he begins to pump them in and out, the heat and slickness of you combined with the song-like quality of your moans making him dizzy. One of your hands leaves his hair to find your clit and you start to rub, the tissue warm and engorged beneath your fingers. You bite your lip, eyelids fluttering, tension forming in your stomach, before you feel Arthur’s head push your hand away.

“Nu-uh, gorgeous. Allow me.” He breathes, and then ducks back down, planting ticklish kisses to your clit before opening his mouth and sucking. When you mewl, he picks up the pace, squeezing your thigh between his bicep and forearm, spreading you open further.

“Arthur-”

He groans hotly in response, and through the haze, you hear him grind his hips against the bedroll, denim scratching against canvas. He keeps his speed but switches up the rhythm of his fingers, drawing out the thrusts, letting you feel the length and breadth of his fingers. You shudder and grab his hair as you rock your hips up into his mouth and hand. He can hear your feet wriggling on the bedroll behind him as you writhe.

“Arthur, my God- Arthur-” You moan.

“That’s… Mm- it, sweetheart-” Arthur slurs between his kissing and lapping at your clit, “-Keep on… Keep on.”

You feel the familiar ache of your impending orgasm branching up through your core, twisting the muscles of your abdomen, choking any semblance of coherent thought from your mind as your back arches tightly.

“I’m so- I’m- Yes- That’s-” The words barely form, more like gentle huffs between your heaving breaths that are steadily climbing in pitch. Arthur grunts, roughening his ministrations, and you respond in kind, eyes squeezing shut and body shuddering as he draws your orgasm from you. With a sequence of keening cries, your head falls back, hands gripping his hair almost painfully, thighs and folds smothering Arthur to the point that all he can feel, smell, taste, and hear is you and only you. Your back spasms, your hips rocking languidly, and Arthur whines when he tastes the familiar flavours of your cum spilling from you. His own body tenses, his hips urgently pushing into the bedroll beneath him, desperate for you. He slows his fingers and mouth to match your hips, keeping them deep as you pulse around them, relishing in how your brows furrow, how your nose scrunches up, how your face is aglow with pleasure.

“Shit…” You sigh, hands dropping from his head to the bedroll. With a hum, Arthur slowly withdraws his fingers and mouth from you and he takes a deep breath, licking his lips and swallowing thickly before a grin stretches across his lips.

“Now, just look at all that mess.” His voice cracks a little as he coos, pursing his flushed lips, making your heart flutter and you smile. He then shifts to hook your shaking knees over his shoulders, and you moan when he presses his plush, open mouth to your core. He laps at the sensitive tissue, licking up some of your fluids. A fiery shot of overstimulation ripples through you and you palm at his head,

“Arthur, oh- Arthur, please, that’s too-” You pant but he shushes you quietly, his hands massaging your thighs.

��“Hush now, darlin’. Let me bring you back down to Earth.”

He trails his tongue up and down with a deep hum, kissing and sucking as your hips stutter madly. After a moment, your muscles start to relax and the slow, sensual movements of his mouth against you becomes almost soothing, pulling a quiet moan from your parted lips.

“Mm, Good girl…” He mutters.

He spreads your thighs and plants a firm kiss to your clit, then your groin, then your stomach before crawling on top of you. You watch, dazed and breathless as he grabs a handful of your chemise and wipes his face with it. You let out a playful groan of disgust, smacking at his shoulder, earning a hearty laugh from him. You shake your head,

“You’re such a dog.”

He slips his arms around your waist, one hand snaking up to splay over your back, and pulls you against him, rolling onto his back with a grunt. Your hands find purchase on his chest, nails grazing the fabric of his shirt as you look down at him with the utmost fondness.

“That’s the treatment I get for bein’ so givin’?” He smirks, and you feel his fingertips tapping a lumbering rhythm against your spine. You narrow your eyes and lean in close, voice low,

“S’the treatment you get for wakin’ me up all hasty.”

You press your mouth to his in a lazy kiss, tasting yourself on his lips, and he practically purrs into your mouth, “Couldn’t help myself. Kept thinkin’ of you here, all soft ‘n’ pretty.”

Your reverie is broken by the distant sound of Miss Grimshaw’s brusque tone, “Where is that girl? She’s supposed to be up preparin’ bowls for breakfast.”

You huff through your nose in irritation, breath puffing against Arthur’s face and he chuckles, deepening the kiss, one hand coming up to stroke your jaw. A faint sound of frustration escapes you as Grimshaw snaps at Karen, asking where you are. You grumble into Arthur’s mouth,

“Grimshaw.”

Arthur shushes you quietly, tilting his head to kiss along your neck,

“A few more minutes won’t kill her. C’mon now…” He murmurs against your skin, pulling you closer, urging you to relax against him for just a moment longer, to which you gladly concede.

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #fanfic #arthur morgan smut #rdr2 x reader #soldateins #arthur morgan #my writing

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monster-effer · 2 days ago

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ADHD reader x LaDS headcanons

Summary: My headcanons on how the LaDS men would be with a reader who has ADHD. Content: Sylus x reader, Xavier x reader, Rafayel x reader, Zayne x reader, Caleb x reader (separate), ADHD mention, impulse control issues, money management issues, inattentiveness, forgetfulness, hyperfixations, Caleb being toxic™, a smidgen of angst, fluff, gn!reader, no reader pronouns mentioned (1.4k wc) A/N: These are some headcanons I wrote in response to a request I received on AO3. I included some of the traits mentioned based on personal experience with my loved ones + ones mentioned in the request.

To my ADHD babies: I hope y’all like this ♡

Sylus – impulse control issues + poor money management

You and Sylus have been dating for a few months now, and during that time he’s become well acquainted with a few things:

You are diagnosed with ADHD You are impulsive when it comes to fun purchases You struggle with money management

He has seen how you put yourself into tight financial situations because you cannot resist buying a special edition plushie that just released at midnight.

On multiple occasions you have spent countless hours and your last dollar at the arcade trying to nab a plushie that is smooshed into the corner of the claw machine. Some days you get the plushie you want and other days you don’t. But in either scenario, you end up eating ramen noodles until your next paycheck hits.

Although you have tried to hide this impulsive side of yourself, Sylus doesn’t miss a single thing about you. He has eyes, ears and a crow at his disposal in and outside of the N109 Zone.

He has no interest in trying to “correct” this part of you, instead he tries to help you in his own way.

He gives you his black card so you can impulsively purchase whatever you want, guilt free. And when you refuse to use it, he replaces your payment information with his on each website you frequently use to go shopping.

You eventually notice this and re-enter your information, but Sylus would follow up and replace it with his card information once again. He was relentless, and eventually you gave in.

He also (secretly) became the owner of the arcade you frequent so you get unlimited coins and can hog the claw machine for as long as you like without being disturbed.

He never wants you to fall behind on your bills or have to skip a fun purchase due to the limitations of your bank account. Sylus is filthy rich and has everything he could ever ask for, including you.

Nothing else in this world gives him as much pleasure as fulfilling your desires and he will always strive to do so.

Rafayel – lost in thought/ignore your surroundings

Every time Rafayel meets you in a new timeline, he notices small differences. In one you were a member of the royal family desperate to escape your responsibilities, in another you were an author, and in this one…he’s not quite sure what to make of you yet.

You were noticeably introspective, to the point that you often get lost in your thoughts. Blocking out any and every attempt to get your attention unless he is exceedingly persistent.

At first, this concerned him because he thought you weren’t interested in him. It felt like the ultimate rejection, and it hurt him deeply in way that he could only express in Lemurian.

But as you got to know each other you shared with him that you are diagnosed with ADHD. Which results in your inattentiveness.

Rafayel was relieved to have an explanation for this phenomenon and from that day he forms a new habit in response.

When you two are hanging out at his place, yours or in public he always carries a sketchbook with him. He never misses the opportunity to depict your visage when you are lost in the multitude of thoughts that race through your head.

Luckily for him, your mind wanders frequently when you’re together, and so far he has five sketchbooks filled entirely with your beautiful face. Some of the sketches are unfinished and others are completed with color, it just depends on when you come back to him.

Rafayel is always patient with you and never tries to “fix” you because you are his perfectly imperfect muse.

Caleb – impulsivity, daydreaming, hyperfixations

Caleb knows everything about you, from the various ways ADHD manifests in your daily life, to the fact that thunderstorms scare you.

He has witnessed your impulsiveness firsthand when it comes to jumping headfirst into danger. And although he’s seen it time and time again, it never makes it easy for him to bear. He feels overwhelmingly protective of you, he wants to hold you close and never let go. But he knows that you value your freedom and independence. So, he tries to dampen his controlling tendencies. At least the very obvious ones.

There are times when he has been mid-conversation with you, only for you to stop replying. And when he looks over, he can already tell that you’re lost in your own world. He takes this time to observe you with no repercussions. To really take you in, because you always berate him for his “creepy” staring otherwise.

And for completely selfish reasons he loves the fact that you’re currently hyperfixated on him since he’s returned from the dead. You may try to hide it, but he can tell that you’re absolutely obsessed with him. He thinks it’s sooooo cute how you blow up his phone, want to occupy all of his time when he is in Linkon and how you bombard him with question after question about what he got up to during his time away.

He knows that sometimes your hyperfixations don’t last long. But there are some you’ve held onto since you were kids. He secretly hopes that your hyperfixation on him lasts a lifetime, as wrong as that may be.

Although he feels a little guilty about enjoying it so much, he is in love with you. He wants no one else and it gives him a rush to know that you feel the same, in your own way.

Xavier – forgetfulness + daydreaming

Xavier has traversed time and space to find you again and keep you safe. He cherishes every moment he gets to spend like it was his last.

When he opens up to you, you feel comfortable enough to do the same. During your heart to hearts you share with him that you have ADHD. It affects your memory in a way that is hard to describe, but you settle on the description of “out of sight out a mind.” This combined with your tendency to get lost in your own thoughts has resulted in more than a few mishaps throughout your life.

Once Xavier is aware of this, he makes it his mission to always be by your side, so you don’t forget him. You try to explain that that would be impossible because he is such an important person to you and also your mission partner, but he is stubborn. Because to him, nothing could be worse than you, the light of his life, forgetting that he existed. Even for a brief moment.

When you lose track of time and almost miss an appointment, Xavier is there to teleport you to your destination.

When you almost miss work because you forgot to set your alarm for the 10th time in the past 2 weeks, he is gently nudging you awake.

He does not see your inattentiveness and forgetfulness as character flaws. They are just a part of what makes you uniquely you.

If Xavier has to serve as your personal planner and alarm clock sometimes, he doesn’t mind. Because you are the most important person to him.

Zayne – hyperfixation

Zayne has a sharp memory, so when you two meet again as adults he is already aware that you have ADHD tendencies. Now he sees you have an official diagnosis once he accesses your medical records for the first time.

He has a logical explanation for why you engage in the behaviors that others may find frustrating to deal with, like your almost unbreakable concentration when you are hyperfixated on something.

Your brain lacks dopamine, so you are naturally drawn to stimulating activities, which results in you locking in when a new activity, show, or topic captures your attention.

Zayne would never push medication used to manage ADHD on you, unless you expressed interest in them.

He would actively monitor you when you get into one of those hyper focused moods though. He would periodically bring you water, meals/snacks, snap you out of your trance for stretch breaks and urge you to sleep if you show no signs of winding down for the day.

IMO Zayne would be a very accommodating partner because he knows medically what’s going on and he would never get annoyed with you for chasing what fuels you.

But there is one stipulation, he wants to be by your side to make sure that you are properly caring for yourself. Because your health and wellbeing mean the world to him, as your doctor and your partner.

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foli-vora · 7 months ago

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vulcanalia lucius verus x f!reader x marcus acacius

a/n: yeah i honestly don't know what this is - i got dragged in by beautiful gif sets and horny thoughts and peer pressure (thanks @juletheghoul). just a little thing to get them out of my system before work. this was co-written with my vagina. enjoy. word count: 627 warnings: SMUT 18+ ONLY: rough unprotected p in v, exhibitionism, creampie, cum eating, a smidgen of a breeding kink somewhere in there, mention of f rec oral, an absolute mess of a drabble tbh

They can hear your cries, you’re sure of it. You lack the strength to do anything about it, lack the concern or embarrassment. Behind the fire biting at your flesh and the threat of ecstasy lingering just within reach, you feel the force from which they’re torn from you. You hold no hope against such power, such fury.

He’s unyielding.

Bruising hands, bloodied from victory, fingers dug deep into the flesh of your hips to ensure your body escapes none of his thrusts. You’re gladly at the gladiator’s full mercy, knees burning and arms shaking, left with nothing but to skate your hands over crumpled linens in search of stability and endure.

Lucius runs a roughened hand across your shoulder, thick calloused fingers winding around your throat and pulling until you’re curling back into his touch, rising back into the heat of his sweat slicked chest and displaying your victory of taking him so well—a showcase to the other man present in the room, lounging against plush cushions and illuminated by warm candlelight.

The General.

He had taken his fill of you already, always the first to claim you upon arrival. His own personal reward, his right. Though he used a softer touch than that of the gladiator, it was to never be mistaken for weakness. Strength, control, lingers behind the hands he uses to strip you, to pin your thighs open at his mercy and to beckon your pleasure forward with an expert touch.

Unlike the gladiator, he prefers to feel the hot press of your chest against his own as he fills you again and again, thick cock rutting so deeply into your weeping cunt you swear you feel him hit places unknown to you.

Caged between the arms that carry the weight of the entire army, you’re left with nowhere to hide. He sees all, eyes roaming your face as you meet your end over and over, relentless in his pursuit of more until tears begin to spring in your eyes and his name is nothing but a broken plea on your lips.

Only when he decides you’ve had enough does he allow himself to fill you, hips so tight up against your own as his cock twitches and pulses within you, flooding your cunt with spend until he feels it begin to seep out from around him. Perhaps one day you’d sire a child, his child. The triumph of his efforts, the success of truly claiming you before the gladiator.

Lucius feels the remnants of the General as he fucks into you, the silky smooth feel of it hot where it mingles with your own pleasure coating his cock and wetting his thighs. The taste of you both still lingers on his tongue, still sits heavy and wet within his facial hair from how he devoured you once Marcus was through with you, his mouth eager and open against your cunt as you cried and rocked against his face until finding starlight.

More.

With your back pressed against his chest, he allows his hands to roam down until he feels where his cock stretches you, running teasingly over the swollen nerve that causes you to jolt in his arms before swiping through the mess and soaking his fingers. You know what he wants, and your lips part before he can even make the demand of it.

You taste it all—the victory of battle, ecstasy that could rival the Heavens. Lucius chases it, fingers hard around your chin as he twists you to meet his mouth. He steals what he can, tongue hot and demanding against yours until he’s breaking away with a low groan, ocean eyes soon finding the ever watchful ones across the room.

“Care for a sample of your work, General?”

#marcus acacius x reader #lucius verus x reader #marcus acacius x f!reader #lucius verus x f!reader #lucius verus x reader x marcus acacius #lucius verus x f!reader x marcus acacius

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goonmieser1069 · 13 days ago

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Video Games

• mamthlapinatapai

(n.) a look shared by two people, each wishing that the other would initiate something they both desire but which neither wants to begin

-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-

Pairings :

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Fem! Reader

CW: LT. x SGT. FEM READER, ALCOHOL MENTIONS, YEARNING, SLIGHT ANGST, british people.

-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-

Simon had no idea what to do when his sargeant decided to start acting the way she was at the small pub after their last mission. Head shamelessly landed against his shoulder, he clenched his jaw at the feeling…a scowl now on his half covered face as he took a large swig of his beer…but why didn’t he just move you?

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

So here they were, almost identical to that night to every night they spent in this familiar setting..

His eyes practically glued to you silently as he watched you and Kyle play billiards from the bar, Johnny loudly cheering you on as you struck the cue ball for a drunken trick shot, failing miserably hitting a scratch. You chugged your pint of beer angrily complaining between sips about how “uneven” the table was as Gaz argued back about you being a sore loser. Price chuckling at the scene from beside Simon leaning against the bar top uncomfortably.

It was like clockwork, every single time you got back from a mission you’d all spend the evening on one of your off days on base at a local pub. Letting loose and enjoying yourselves before the next mission, returning back to the bloodshed and chaos. He wished on those nights he could ignore how your eyes would linger on him, how you’d always somehow end up absolutely wasted drunk.

Everytime getting closer and closer to him, last trip you’d practically been glued to his shoulder towards the end of the night. Half asleep, he acted angry, acted as if he hated the close proximity..When all he did was crave it, oh how wrong it felt to feel like this about his subordinate..The big bad Lieutenant Riley…secretly smitten over his Sargeant, what a joke.

So when the game ends, and you grumble something about how unfair it was, waltzing over to Simon to complain. Throwing your hands around as you expressed the many reasons you were upset. He looked blankly back at you, your eyes now focused on his, brows furrowed slightly as you noticed his expression from his half pulled up balaclava.

“Why are you always like this..” You grimmaced, cheeks flushed from the alcohol as you leaned across from him against the bar top. Price and Kate were far too distracted in their own conversation to even see the drunk woman making a fool of herself to her lieutenant once again. “Y’know…? All brooding and stuff…It scares off all the ladies..!”

You joked, words slurring as you widened your eyes lazily smirking as you decided to tease him further. Not taking the hint to quit at his unimpressed scowl from the exposed portion of his face. “Wait are you single LT…?”

“Hope So!”

Before he even had a chance to respond your words had cut him off. Breaking his blank stare as his eyes widened a smidgen from behind the cloth, going back to normal almost instantly as he scoffed annoyed. “Bloody hell woman, you’re pissed.” He grumbled taking a large gulp of his drink. Glancing at you out of his peripherals, practically side eyeing you.

Trying to keep his standoffish facade best he could , his thoughts running buck wild at your slurred words. ‘What did you mean? What does “Hope not!” even mean? Were you genuinely just that stupid..? Or just incredibly hammered..’

Yeah that was it you had no clue what you were saying. Like everytime they went to the pub, you got hammered and flirted shamelessly and forgot your actions by the next day. He always took you back to your barracks, you woke up alone and hungover stumbling into whatever meeting they had at base, tired and complaining about your agonizing headache.

So when the night ends and as he carried you in his big arms, thrown slumped over his shoulder back to your room at base, like always your eyes glimmered in hope that he’d maybe stay. Brows always furrowed as you, tucked in your bed in unspoken care, pouting at the silent man when darkness consumed you room as he gently shut the door, back turned to you. Only this time he muttered an almost impossible to make out sentence, his voice low and gruff as he looked back at you from behind the mask, eyes uncharacteristically soft.

“G’night ____..”

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

i’m leaving room for a pt.2 👅

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machveil · 4 months ago

Note

Don't think about a Konig that has a smidgen of confidence due to everyone telling him his crush is down bad for him, and also maybe a little liquid courage, walking up behind them, loud enough to where they can hear him but not so loud that they turn around. Don't think about him gently reaching around to set his fingers on their throat, not a chokehold but just resting the tips of them on their skin, tilting their head up to make eye contact while unintentionally giving them bedroom eyes. -🐸

I’m definitely not thinking about that 🐸 anon… but if I were to—

CW: mentions of sex, masturbation (König), Tipsy!König, real Loser!König energy with this one ngl

can you really blame König when people notice how smitten he is with you? he can hardly help it, Maus. the poor man looks like a lost puppy following you around base! can you blame König when you smile up at him, talk so sweetly to him - it’s not his fault that his heart twists with affection and heat settles in his gut when you’re around

he’s just absolutely taken with you, someone who treats him - the feared and respected Colonel, a man who towers over everyone at KorTac - with seemingly unconditional love? well, König thinks it’s love, whether you’re feelings reflect that or not. he’s so starved of affection that simply looking in his direction gets his palms sweaty

he can’t help it that his teammates, let alone other soldiers, catch on to his infatuation. he’s oblivious to his own behavior - constantly staring, trailing behind you - looming over your figure, trying to get your attention. it’s almost comical watching the man crush on you

and he’s crushing hard. he can’t get you out of his thoughts - how cute would you look wearing his shirt? what would you look like sitting on his lap? would you like his room? his bedsheets? what’s hidden beneath his mask? can you really blame him when he’s under his covers thinking about you - strained against his boxers despite his desperate attempts to sleep

hearing your voice is enough for him to get him hot and bothered, and when you’ve touched him in passing? he’s thankful the mask hides his flushed cheeks, if only he could stop his blood from flowing south. it’s innocent — your fingers grazing his when you pass something to him, but the contact has his veins on fire! just that fleeting moment, barely feeling your skin against his, has shame burning in his chest as he palms himself

would your hands feel soft against his - wrapped around him? would he be able to smell your shampoo if he held you close - face pressed to your neck as he ruts into you? it feels like he’s been submerged, sounds muffled like he’s underwater, he’s drowning, being pulled under by thoughts of you

it all comes crashing down like waves when he lets out a strained gasp - he’s coming up for air as he ruins his underwear. if only it wasn’t a regular occurrence, the thought of your thighs around him, nails digging against his back

but, when König hears that you like him? he’s nearly shaking down the soldier he heard it from - wildly seeking confirmation that it’s true. his jaw practically goes slack when he’s told it’s common knowledge around base - it’s not, a few soldiers thought it’d be funny to prank the intimidating Colonel that has an obvious soft spot for you

it’s really not his fault, Maus, not when those soldiers talk about it like it’s a fact, lying through their teeth with their full chests - maybe it’s their confidence that sells König, or maybe it’s that burning hope flickering in his chest. he wants to say something to you, he needs to hear you say it - and he wouldn’t be able to stop the words from spilling out of his mouth

Ich liebe dich

but he can’t, not with his heart pumping - the sound ringing in his ears. his nerves are set on fire again, different this time. and unlike when he’s alone in his room, putting the embers out by hand, he turns to liquid courage

he’s half a bottle deep before he decides he can do something, just a push to make small talk. that all flies out the window when he lays eyes on you - dressed in civvies, walking away from your friends and pulling your phone out. he’s already crossing the threshold, legs moving with a mind of their own

the soft thud of his boots against the floor go unnoticed by you, too distracted to care, or too used to the idle sound of chatter and people moving around. suddenly, veins that were running hot feel ice cold as he stands behind you, eyes half lidded as he brings his hand up

a gruff chuckle rumbles in his chest when you jump at the contact, his palm pressing to your neck. fingers carefully wrapped around your throat - he groans a little when he feels you nervously swallow, thumb grazing your jaw. “Liebling.”, accent thick, whether it’s from the booze or not, the need in his voice is evident

pointer finger tucked under your chin, he carefully nudges your jaw upwards. head tilting up, he ever so slightly squeezes your throat - icy gaze cast down at you, a satisfied hum resonates in his chest, “I think we need to talk, Maus, ja?”, voice low as he cocks his head to the side

”Mm, such a little thing—“, he coos, his free hand coming up to cup your cheek, thumb halfheartedly placed against your cheekbone, “Die Dinge, die ich mit dir machen möchte, Süße.”, he softly murmurs

he catches the confused glint in your eyes when he speaks, your eyebrows knit. just when you’re about to question him - are you okay? König, what’s wrong? you’re cut off before you can even speak. “Oh? You don’t understand me? Das ist schade.”, he tuts, lightly patting your cheek

“Why don’t we practice some German, ja?”, smiling under his mask, he gently tilts your head back a little more, “Speak for me. Say ‘Ich liebe dich’ for me, Maus.”

#CW: google translate #wet sock of a man<3 #konig #könig #könig cod #könig call of duty #könig mw2 #tipsy!könig #loser!könig #konig x reader #konig x you #könig x reader #könig x you #könig headcanons #cod #cod thoughts #call of duty #cod x reader smut #hit post

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amorchai · 1 month ago

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could you pretty please reupload that steve x plus size reader fic called ruined from your other blog pretty pretty please

𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐃. ─ s.h

this is a repost from my old blog, original post was 916 notes!

pairing(s): steve harrington x plus-size!female!reader

summary: steve asks you why you've been distant with him.

words: 1528

warnings/tags: plus!size reader, angsty feelings, friends to lovers, slight mention of food, reader being affectionate to others ( platonically. ).

all steve harrington wanted was a hug. he never knew he would want one so badly until now, but upon seeing you being platonically affectionate with the rest of his friend group only makes steve more jealous as the night went on.

you had been distant recently, steve not noticing right away until robin had brought it up. whenever you were showing up to his work during times he was on breaks, you had to assure robin to ‘not bother him’ whenever she suggested getting him from the back. you always said you were busy when steve suggested to go out, or actively avoiding his affection like the plague.

little did he know your harbouring feelings mixed with heavy insecurity had been the cause of the distance. the realisation that nothing would ever happen between the pair settling your stomach with discomfort and sadness, wishing nothing more than to be with the boy you fell for back in high school. your best friend.

steve only dated skinny girls, not once had you heard of him dating someone of a heavier weight. he went from girl to girl, fell in love with nancy, the naturally skinny and beautiful goody-too-shoes. even after their breakup, dating girls who were smaller in weight, which only broke your heart more desperately each time, the smidgen of hope left fizzling with each new girl.

so, in hopes to move on from the situation, you decided to distance yourself from steve, scared of only getting more hurt and increasingly insecure over your plus-size figure. but steve noticed as time went on, unsure why but hurt from the lack of attention.

therefore, watching as you tucked into eddie munson’s side, his ring-clad fingers gently grazing your shoulder in a friendly comfort only caused steve to slump back into the couch of his own home. the movie played lowly, everyone chatting amongst themselves and robin’s foot nudged steve’s ankle to bring his glaring gaze away from the pair.

“will you stop making it so unbearably obvious?” she asks, rolling her eyes at the boy she sadly considers her best friend, fed up with his gloomy attitude. “making what obvious?” steve looks at robin as if he doesn’t know, causing dustin from the other side of him to grumble while grabbing another handful of popcorn, “that you’re jealous.”

“jealous of what, idiot?” steve mutters, hand gesturing in his gullible state, unsure if he wants his friends to elaborate. “you clearly love y/n, and if you just talked to her, she would probably tell you why she’s been avoiding you lately,” robin replies while taking a handful of dustin’s offered bowl hovering steve’s lap.

steve pushes the bowl aside, back into dustin’s lap who watches his older friend while raising a handful of the buttery snack into his mouth, “i don’t love y/n, okay? just care for her, as a friend.”

“as a friend. right,” lucas snorts from the floor in front of him, causing a nudge from steve’s foot to shut him up, “hey, pipe down. the three of you, you hear me?”.

they all shake their heads at his hidden infatuation, only barely convincing himself of his lies. but as soon as they go quiet, his eyes drag back to your frame who looks from eddie’s face and to max as she walks back through from steve’s kitchen, sitting her drink on the coffee table.

steve’s eyes never leave you, hands outstretching towards the ginger who playfully walks towards her considered-older sibling and falls into your lap in a bone-crushing hug, cuddling up to one another.

his heart sinks at the sight, you really are avoiding him.

eddie arm falters behind your shoulders when your coddle the just-as-tall redhead, both affectionately hugging as you watch the movie. steve really wanted a hug from you.

shit, maybe he does love you.

who is he kidding anymore?

his thoughts and worries run wild as the night goes on, and the moment you gently usher max off your lap, standing from the separate couch to walk into the kitchen, steve is following.

everyone’s knowing eyes follow, eddie wriggling his eyebrows towards dustin from his successful attempts of enticing steve’s feelings. focusing back on the movie as they allow steve the time to hopefully come to his senses.

your standing by the microwave, another pre-packed popcorn box rested inside, a few kernels popping from within. you can hear the footsteps and turn in curiosity before noticing steve by the refrigerator, looking at you expectantly.

“sorry, did you want anything?” you ask shyly, which steve can’t understand why.

“yeah, actually. a hug would be great… maybe before that an explanation of why you’ve been ignoring me.”

you wince at steve’s tone, clearly upset and pent-up worries freeing from his throat as he walks closer to you. “i’ve not been—” steve rolls his eyes with slight annoyance, cutting you off from finishing, “aw, bullshit, y/n. and you know it.”

“it’s not…” you trail off, quietly and defeated, nearly unheard over the popping snack from behind her.

“give me a hug, then.”

“what?”

“if there’s nothing wrong, then give me a hug.”

you slowly shake your head lowly while looking to your fidgeting hands in front of your stomach, a feature of the many parts of you you’re sure steve hates. “no?” steve asks, coming closer that you can see his own frame right in front, and begrudgingly, you look into his eyes when his fingers gently curl under your chin and coax it up.

“will you talk to me? god, i hate this. tell me what i’ve done wrong so i can fix it.”

“i’ll never be skinny, steve.” you start through a sigh. a huff following from your throat as you exasperate the start of your confession, mainly due to steve’s coaxing brown eyes being so hard to refuse.

“what?” steve’s confused, fingers still gently holding your chin as if he’s scared you’ll disappear or run if his hand drops.

you inhale deeply before sighing loudly, ‘here goes nothing’ floating through your mind and quickly note of the jacket on his coat rack by the front door in case you need to make a quick escape in a minute.

“those girls you dated, they’re all skinny and pretty, i’ll never be like them.”

steve’s eyebrows increasingly furrow, head leaning closer to you as his lips frown in confusion, “but you are pretty, baby. what do you mean, ‘those girls’? why are we talking about this?” steve asks.

“steve….” you trails off at his naivety, steve’s fingers pressing harder when you try to look away. his eyes searching yours desperately while he replays the words until they settle, registering in his brain for him to understand.

“oh.”

your trapped between the counter and steve, so you try to press your palms against his abdomen to push him away. for a moment, the only sound through the kitchen is the popping of popcorn from the microwave, reminding you that all your friends are next door and here you are ruining everything.

“no, wait.”

“steve, please. just let me go.” you plead through a groan when steve refuses to move backwards, fingers faltering against your chin to graze the curve of your neck connecting your shoulder, eyes gazing over your fretting features.

“no. wait a minute.”

you let out another deep withheld sigh, running your hands across your face before looking back up at steve. this time met with his earnest eyes, looking deeply into yours with an expression of innocence and admiration.

however, your eyes are quick to fall shut when steve moves forward to press his lips to yours. your hands are hovering his shoulder with shaking fingers while processing the fact that your forever-crush and closest friend is currently kissing you.

steve grips the back of your neck, guiding your lips as they slowly kiss back, either of you ignoring the slight smell of burning popcorn as steve coaxes your lips in a tender and loving motion. one he wishes he never had to pull from, but his desperation for your touch still alite his fingertip.

thus causing steve to pull away, only to press his face into your neck, wrapping you into a tight hug that he had been wishing for over the past couple of weeks. deprived from the feeling of you between his arms, thumbs swiping across he material of your tee, never wanting to pull back from.

“what does this mean, steve?” you mumble anxiously against his shoulder.

steve chuckles, pressing chaste kisses to your neck, “it means we’re both idiots,” he replies, inhaling your sweet scent before he decides to continue. he smiles at the feeling of your cheek pressed against him, melting further into his touch, something he’s desperately missed, “and you wonder why i’ve dated so many girls over my time.”

“what do you mean?” you ask timidly, scared for his answer, scared he’s implying you as another girl for him to briefly date. but it’s steve, and deep down you knew he would never treat you as such.

“because you’ve ruined every other girl for me, it’s only ever going to be you.”

amorchai masterlist . taglist form

#➵ amorchai works ౨ৎ #stranger things ⁑ steve harrington ᡣ𐭩 #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fandom #stranger things

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