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mochamadeleines · 1 month ago

Text

Sweethearts and Sweet Dreams <3

“Nothin’?”

“Mhm.”

“Whats behind your back then?”

You sway in place, trying to suppress a knowing smile. “I dont have anything behind my back.” (6.4k words)

tags!! - 18+ modern au! Husband! Joel Miller, Wife! Reader, you guys are happy and in love!, mutual obsession if u squint, lots of exposition im so freaking sorry, pervert Joel if u squint, praise kink joel if you squint, dumbification if you squint, written for those with daddy issues lowkeeyyyyy, written with game joel in mind but could be hbo joel no problem!, lowk i combined the two in my mind, mentions of shy old man joel, housewife! reader (by choice), unspecified age gap but reader is like. thirty? and joels Like...55??, talk about joel taking medication for his anxiety, p in v sex, dirty talk, public sex, outdoor sex, joel has a kink for dresses because i said so? service top joel if you squint, pet names, a pinch of jealousy and possessiveness for fun, playful banter, mentions of maria and tommy and their baby with a made up name Lol, mentions of ellie and sarah (rip), mentions of readers past abusive relationships, talk about joel struggling with substance abuse/addiction and being hospitalized.....Im sure u can theorize why </3, lots of lore ill get into in another fic MAYBE *smirks*, flip flop in perspective, sometimes showing what joel is thinking or what reader is thinking blah blah

authors notes!! - hi there!!! im mocha and this is my first joel fic ever + my first fic posted to tumblr!! im really nervous cuz i havent written anything in months and ive never written joel before so please let me know if you like it!! id love to write more of this au for u guys if theres a demand for it...Thank u for reading!! also barely proof read im ngl. ive been staring at this fic all day im sick of itttt. p.s i dont usually write smut i also kinda do idfk Is this bad or am i tweaking

You step out of the house, morning sun soaking into the roots of your hair and the driveway beneath your feet. Theres a package youve been waiting for.

You cant contain your grin as you wiggle it out of the hot prison that is your mailbox.

“What the hell are you doin’ out there barefoot?” Joel chastises you from the front door, leaning his elbow on the frame. Joel, your lovely husband of two years. Been together for five. And because of how hard he works, you have the privilege of being a stay at home wife. Some people think that sort of life is stifling, but youve never felt so free. No more jobs you hate, no more financial struggles. Just you, Joel, and your cat, Cement. He likes to pretend it isnt a totally hilarious name for a pet.

You were his first relationship in almost a decade, so it was a lot of work helping him unpack his anxieties about dating, and a lot of work for you to feel safe and unafraid. Honestly? Youve been mistreated by enough men to land you in the psychward.

But Joel never yells at you, he never breaks things when hes angry or threatens to hurt you. He might raise his voice every now and again, but its never because of something you did. Sometimes the stress of life is just too much.

He works hard, he loves his daughter- daughters- and he would do anything to keep you happy. Whatever you say goes, he says. Even now, you hardly argue. Of course you have disagreements, or off days thatd lead to one of you being especially moody, but the both of you do your best to communicate.

Behind that rough exterior, is someone who just wants to be needed.

You first met Joel at a youth center you volunteered at, he taught guitar, you taught arts and crafts. Joel says it was your smile and sense of humor that charmed him. It was his singing and southern accent for you.

Your favorite thing about Joel is how soft he gets around you. He says its because you make it easy to be soft.

Joel was a shy lover at first. He would get nervous just kissing you, or holding your hand. While most people become intimate very early on in their relationship, you and Joel didnt do anything sexual for the first five months of you dated. Sure, you almost did, plenty of times, but he would get so overwhelmed and cut things short. You broke two of your vibrators during this era of your relationship. Embarassing.

You remember your first time very vividly. Joel had worked back to back doubles trying to meet a deadline, and on the final day, after having barely spoken to you for almost a week, you had shown up to his house, unannounced. You were wringing water out of your jacket when he swung the door open.

“How-” Joel blinks a few times, stepping forward to examine the rainfall. “How long you been out here?”

“Not that long,” You lie and pick up the container you brought off the porch chair. Part of you had a hard time mustering up the courage to even knock on the door. Droplets of water cascade down your chin. “Hi, sorry. I know youre tired.”

He shakes his head, voice soft and warm. “S’fine. Now c’mon, youre gonna get sick.”

Youre seated at the little dining table next to the kitchen now, trying to let the sound of the rainfall ease your nerves.

Joel was quick to grab you a towel, and does the honors of drying your face and hair with it. “Why didnt you jus’ call me? Woulda gotten out of the shower faster if i knew you were gettin’ soaked out there like this.”

“I dunno, sorry.”

“An’ whatd i tell you about apologizin’ all the time?”

“Sor- Uh. Right. Okay.” You tighten your jaw. No more.

Joel moves behind you, now squeezing water out the ends of your hair. “Whas’ that?”

“Oh!-” You peel back the lid, showing it to him. “Old fashion cake donuts are your favorite right? I remember you saying you liked eating them with your coffee in the mornings so…I made these. Youve been working a lot lately and I wanted to do something nice for you.”

Joel gingerly grasps the container from your hands, looking into it. Theyre a warm golden brown, outside evenly fried, and the sweet scent of them hits his nose right away.

“I was just gonna leave them on the doorstep and call you to tell you they were there, but I wanted to see you.”

His adam's apple bobs as he swallows the dryness in his throat. Youre too good for him.

“Thank you very much.” He presses a kiss to your damp hair. “Now, lets get you into some dry clothes.”

Joel gives you a t-shirt and a pair of his boxers to keep you modest while your clothes wash and dry.

You wait patiently on his bed for the hot chocolate he promised you before you showered. Theres nothing to watch on the tv, so you just turn it off and reach for the lamp on his nightstand instead.

He comes in quietly, and sets the mug down beside the lamp. You finally come into focus, clear as day even under the low lighting.

“You uh.. You look nice.”

You blink. “I look nice?”

“In my shirt.”

That gets a smile out of you.

Joel tips his head towards the mug. “S’hot so, give it a few minutes. Dont want you burnin’ your mouth.”

You nod. “Okay.”

Hes sat beside you now and the two of you sit in silence for a while. Its not awkward, just the kind of silence where both of you want to say something but just.. Cant.

Joel unravels first. “Missed you, y’know. Just been tired.”

“I know.” Your voice wobbles, and Joels jaw tightens like hearing you sound so sad stings him. “I missed you, too.”

He slides his hand over yours, giving it a squeeze. Its okay.

“Hey Joel...Can I stay the night?”

“Sure. Id really like that.”

While you drink your hot chocolate, you and Joel catch up. You both talk about work, and about your new found interest in baking. Joel teases you about your lack of cooking skills, you do the same. Youre both useless.

When its time to climb into bed, neither of you can actually fall asleep. Joel rolls onto his side, away from you and the window. You follow, curling up like a little cat against his back. The sensation is nice for the both of you.

You speak up after a little while.

“Joel?”

“Mm.”

“Thank you for letting me stay.”

He scoffs, voice thick with exhaustion. “Like I'd force you to leave after you brought me such a nice present.”

You let out a little giggle, “So if i didnt, youd kick me out?”

“Id think ‘bout it.”

You gasp, gently shoving at his back. “Thats mean…!”

“S’really not.”

“Oh yeah? And what if I poisoned them?.”

“Then itd jus' be a regular day of your cookin’ then.” Joel reminds you, lighthearted. Too many times where you left the shells in your eggs or burnt toast or left the bacon on the pan for too long.

“You cant get mad at me for my dark past when you made a perfectly good sirloin taste like horse leather.”

“Ugh. Dont remind me. That was like putting a one-hundred dollar bill into a paper shredder. How do either of us stay alive again?”

“Uh. Digiorno?”

“Digiorno.”

After a few moments, Joels rolling over again, and hes guiding your head to settle against his chest. Your arms wrap around him, and his arms around you.

“Joel,” You whisper. He hums. “Im cold.”

“S’cause youre not wearin’ any pants.”

“And whos fault is that?”

“Still yours.”

“I was left out in the rain like a sad, sopping wet cat. One that was left in a box all alone with no family…” You pretend to sniffle. “Dont you feel bad for me?”

Joel sighs, not saying anything more except making sure the part of the comforter behind your back is tucked into your side so the cold air doesnt get in. When hes done, you do a little shimmy up his body, and throw your leg over his hip. Oh no.

Hes alert now. Very alert. Be normal. Joel hesitates, licking the dryness off his lips. “Uh. Feel better?”

“Mhm.” You push your face into his throat, cat-like, before settling down again. Hes like a radiator.

Actually scratch that, he cant be normal.

“Darlin’.” He rasps, patting your back to get your attention.

“Mm?”

“Your leg. Move it.”

A few beats pass. “Why?”

“Because…” Wow, he didnt think hed get this far. You shift forward and Joel lets out a quiet exhale through his nose, one that couldve been masked by the rain if you werent so close.

“Are you-”

“No! No. Its- Its not what you think-” He cant see your face in the darkness but he knows you feel the semi-hard struggling through the confines of his pants. Lame.

“Joel,” You say, soft. Your hands slide up his arm to cradle his jaw. Lightning flashes into the room, giving you a glimpse of Joels tight expression. He whispers your name back, just as soft.

“This is normal.”

Its normal, it is! Except for the fact that you guys havent had sex yet. The stress of being intimate is too much, kills his boner in a blink. The longer he waits the worse the anxiety gets.

“I-I know.”

You place a hand on his chest, feeling it pound away like crazy through all the soft muscle.

“Youve been taking your medication, right?”

Has he?

The silence of him thinking is proof enough. “Joel-”

He sighs, rubbing his eyes through the darkness .“I know, I know. Shoot, Im sorry. I just forget sometimes.”

“Its okay.” The pad of your thumb strokes the tops of his cheek, and you press a tender kiss to his mouth to soothe him. “...Want me to remind you?”

The softness of your lips has him a bit dazed. “Huh?”

“I said, do you want me to remind you? I can- You know, call you before you leave work. Make sure you take them.”

“You know I wake up at five-o-clock in the mornin’ , right?”

“I know.”

In a whisper, “Okay.”

Joels rough palms trail down your back and stop at the curve of your butt, finger tips delicately tracing the skin above your shorts. You shiver.

Barely above a whisper. “We dont have to go all the way.”

He says your name again, laced with worry. He doesnt want you to feel pressured.

You pull your leg off his hip and push yourself up, settling your hands on either side of Joels head.

“Can I tell you something?”

“Yes-”

“-And you cant get all in your head about it. You stay here, with me. You stay present.”

“Okay, okay.” He nods, a bit defeated. “I will stay present.”

“When you...When you say you dont wanna have sex, what is it that youre thinking exactly? I know you said you just get really nervous but I feel like youre not being totally honest.”

Joel stays quiet, idly rubbing your sides. Maybe you are a cat. Just getting to feel any part of you is soothing. “I jus’ want you to feel good. ‘Fraid ill do somethin’ you dont like.”

“You cant assume how I feel, Joel. Being intimate.. It takes time to learn what the other person likes.”

He sighs. “I know.” Youre always right.

Adding on, “Like I said, we dont have to go all the way,” You lean further back, situating yourself on his hips. He lets out a shaky breath when he feels the pressure of your ass through his sweats.

“But, I want to start somewhere. I want to feel you.”

“Fuck- Um-” Hes shaking now, letting you grind your hips down onto him. Joel cant seem to control the way his hips instinctively push up to meet yours. Youre both becoming of a mess of little gasps and hot breaths and tiny whimpers already.

You hunch forward, guiding his hand under your your shirt- His shirt- letting him feel up the supple skin of your stomach, then the area where your ribs are, then your-

“And I want you to feel me,”

Surprisingly, you did actually go all the way that night.

Your sex life was a bit of a rocky start, but after Joel got over most of his anxiety, you learned quickly just how goddamn insatiable he was. Five years in and he still regularly makes you sore.

There are a couple things you learned about him and his sexual interests. He loves to take you in his truck, in your kitchen, in your bathroom, on your couch. Other, riskier places. Anywhere that isnt your bed apparently, not that he isnt fucking you there either.

Joel is handsy, so handsy infact it embarasses you to no end, especially when youre infront of others. Thats usually how it starts, too. First he kisses you, then gropes your hips and your ass, and the next thing you know, youre cumming on his fingers. Then hed bend you over, or get you on your back, or make you ride him. Is it really riding if hes just slamming up into you until your brain turns into mush?

He likes that too. Making you not think.

Youd be lying if you said its only ever him. Sleepy morning handjobs before work, whining to him over the phone and touching yourself to his voice, arching your back into him while you're washing dishes, sucking him off after hours in his office.

And while most men prefer lingerie or little costumes, Joel likes dresses. Dresses that are discreet so he can take you in the backyard when he comes home early and sees you gardening. Or when youre both at a friends house and hes had a little too much to drink and finds himself alone with you. Dresses that make it easy to play his favorite game with you. I touch you, and you make sure we dont get caught by being too loud. Joel really is the worst sometimes.

Now, you only ever wear pants when its cold, or to bed or sometimes when youre lounging, like today. Youre in some shorts and a tank top. Otherwise, its dresses all year round, usually retro styles or ones meant for spring. Joels not picky though, he loves any dress on you.

Even if you wear an extremely modest, white lacey sleep dress, looking like some kind of vintage ghost, the man would still keep you up all night. And he has. He said you looked like a princess. You guess you kind of did.

The entire thing is like an unspoken arrangement between you both. He doesnt tell you to wear them, you just do.

And he works hard to spoil you, so why not buy as many cute dresses as possible?

You got a cute dress today too, on the same day Joel has off. You think its going to be a new favorite of his.

The big polymailer stays hidden behind your back. Be casual. “Uh- Nothing!”

“Nothin’?”

“Mhm.”

“Whats behind your back then?”

You sway in place, trying to suppress a knowing smile. “I dont have anything behind my back.”

“Lemme see then. Show me your hands-”

“Hey, Mrs. Miller!”

Both you and Joel turn your heads to the voice, and only one of you has the energy to fake a a smile. Your neighbor is stopping in his driveway, having come back from a jog it looks.

“Hi, Lee.”

Joel really, really, really doesnt like Lee. You dont like him either, but youre not one to cause problems. Lee on the other hand, is. Hes a bit younger than you, and a lot younger than Joel. Hes one of those tech dudes with a massive ego, thinks that youll be swayed by his money and his “charm” and youth as if youre some sad housewife in need of saving. Gross.

And another thing, Lee doesnt even actually live here! Hes here ever so often to visit his dad between, you dont know, tech expos? You forget. Joel believes he started showing up more often to see you.

Youre walking towards the porch again. Joels looking especially unhappy to see him today, knuckles pulled taut into a fist. His lips stay pressed into a thin line, careful not to let anything slip out. He usually lets you do most of the talking, as much as it pains him.

Joels really not a fan of the way Lees eyes take a trip up your bare legs. Little shit.

“Out with no shoes again, Mrs. Miller?”

“You know me, Im uh- Im weird.”

“The weird ones do it best.” He smiles, all teeth. It gives you the creeps. His attention is on Joel now. Its like watching a puppy try to one up a wolf. “Right, Joel?”

“Uh huh.” Whatever that means.

“Actually, I've been meaning to ask you something, Mrs. Miller.” Lee crosses into your driveway and you glance briefly at Joel, as if to make sure he isnt going to start growling at the other to stay away. Youre clutching the package to your chest now.

“Have you ever been to a support group for uh- you know, the spouses of addicts? I have a friend from work and shes really struggling.”

Lees tone is sugary sweet, but the fake kind you put in diet soda except that stuff is way better. Joel sighs from the door. You stand there, dumbfounded on the porch steps because what the fuck is he going on about.

You clear your throat, keeping your voice firm. “No. Ive never needed to.”

Joels voice cuts in like a knife. “Been clean for almost twenty years now.”

“Yeah but, you know,” He shrugs, squinting a bit under the morning sun. “Relapses happen.”

Joel and Lee are at a stand still, and the moment Joel lets the arm leaning on the frame drop to his side, you know youre in for a lot of trouble. You move quickly towards the door. “We have to get ready for a- uh- a thing? but Im sorry about your friend.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Miller. Im doing my best to support her.” And before he turns away, he just has to be slimy to you. “If you need someone to talk to, Im here for you.”

“No, that really wont be necess-”

Joels slinging a strong arm around you to yank you back inside before shutting the door.

“Motherfucker,” He hisses to himself, stomping through the walkway and into the kitchen.

“How-” You rub your eyes, letting them adjust to the light inside of the house. You put the package down onto the bar counter that opens up the kitchen and follow Joel to the fridge. “How does he know?? I thought-”

“Been living in this house for decades now,” His expression is tight, brows knitted together while he chugs a bottle of water. “People talk. ‘Specially if I'm being rolled into an ambulance on more than one occasion.” Joel frowns. “Fuck- I shoulda punched him in the fuckin’ face- Do you see how hard he tries so hard to flirt with you infront’a me?”

“I know, love. I was there.” You take the bottle from his hand and set it to the side, then wrap your arms around him. “Try not to let it get to you okay?”

Joel sighs into your hair, giving your body a squeeze. “I know, I know, but jus’ hearin’ him tryin’ta use my baggage to make a pass at you…S’fuckin’ evil.”

“I agree, but I dont want his blood on the driveway.”

“So get it on his driveway instead, got it.”

You giggle and tip your head up to kiss him. The tension eases from Joels shoulders, and he cups your cheeks, letting his worries melt away into your mouth. When the pads of his fingers start to slide under your tank top, youre leaning back. Youll be here for a while if this goes any further.

Joel mindlessly chases your lips, looking a bit pouty now that its over.

“Im gonna start getting ready for the barbecue, okay?”

“This early?”

“I like being punctual.”

“My brother wont give a damn if were late.” He noses your jaw, pressing a kiss here and there. Your knees are beginning to feel weak. The bastard is trying to distract you.

“But I do. The farmers market opened today, and I promised Maria I'd get her fresh strawberries before we got there, remember?”

“Alright, alright.” He grumbles into your shoulder.

Joel lets you go, watching you round the bar counter to get your package and disappear upstairs.

Ever since you came down to a freshly showered Joel, and got into the car with the gift bags you prepared for Maria and Tommy, Hes been staring at you. One wrong move and the drools gonna start pouring out of his mouth.

Your hair is in its relatively natural state, freshly washed and shiny from the oil you put in it. You put on some light makeup, and went a bit heavy handed on the blush to look sunkissed, and topped it off with a flavored lip gloss Joel especially enjoys.

Now, the dress. Its a pink floral mid-length dress, with a low cut sweetheart neckline and a corset style backing to cinch your waist and push out your chest. The material is thick and pretty, and there are two other layers under the skirt to keep its shape. You have on a pair of little pink pumps with little bows to match.

The drive to the farmers market is fairly peaceful, the windows are half down and theres music playing at low volume on the radio. You and Joel have different tastes in music, but one genre you can always agree on is alternative rock.

The weathers beautiful, sun high in the sky, and its not too hot or humid. The day really is perfect. Youre gonna soak up some sun when youre at the barbecue. Hopefully, they made lemonade again too.

Joel has been mostly quiet throughout your shopping. While it would worry some, youve been with him long enough to know that he just has a lot on his mind. What hes thinking about? Maybe youll learn when you make it back home at the end of the day.

You gasp, strolling through the grass to a stand with a mountain of apples. Granny smith, Macintosh, Pink Ladys, Honeycrisp, the works. He grunts, trying to keep the things that are already in your basket steady. You came for strawberries and are going to leave with much more than that.

Joel nudges you softly. “Remember, this is quality stuff, meaning itll go bad faster. Dont get too much.”

“Okay, got it.” You beam, and then begin inspecting the Pink Lady apples first, trying to find the ones with the best color. He keeps the basket within reach so you can drop your picks in.

"These were Sarahs favorites."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, it was funny 'cause we started arguin' over these or Red Delicious. I think Red Delicious is better."

"Thats so cute! Hmm. Should we get one for her? A Pink Lady?"

"Uh," He thinks on it for a moment, unsure, but the smile on your face helps him make a decision. "Sure, why not."

You drop two perfect Pink Ladys into the basket, moving onto the next pile.

“Hey, Joel.” You grin, holding out a wrinkled granny smith apple. “This one looks like you”

“Ha ha.” He deadpans, and grabs it from you to put back. In turn, hes reaching for the runt of the pile. A pathetically small one sitting near the bottom. “Now this one looks like you.”

“Does not!”

“Does too.”

The next stand has golden kiwis, and youre practically dragging Joel forward to try them. You ask for one, and the man at the stand slices it into halves, giving you a plastic spoon to go with.

You let Joel smell it first. “S’good.”

“Lets see if it tastes good.”

You sink your spoon into it, humming when you see how soft and easy it is to scoop out. In your mouth it goes!

Its tastes sweet, a bit mango-y and fucking delicious. You bounce in place, spoon feeding Joel next. “Oh yeah,” He smiles, smacking his lips a bit to really let the taste settle on his tongue. “Were takin’ some of these.”

You take one, then two, then three and four then five and as you reach for the sixth one, Joels stopping you with a gentle hand.

“Darlin’.”

“Right.”

For the next few stands its just you and Joel trying various kinds of fruit. Starfruit, blueberries, some mangos, and then youre going back to the truck.

“I think my favorites were the mangos and golden kiwis. I hope Maria and Tommy have enough space in their fridge for all of this.”

“They moved into a bigger house, I reckon their fridge s’probably bigger, too.”

“What time is it?”

You let go of Joels arm so he can switch the basket from one hand to the other.

“‘Bout…” Hes squinting at his watch. “12:34 in the afternoon.”

“Oh! Guess we got the shopping done sooner than I expected. Hmm. Should we stop somewhere in the mean time?-" You snap your finger when you remember something. "They opened up this cafe that has cats in it! We can drink coffee and play with them for bit! The next fourty-five minutes will go by super fast."

“Youre gonna make Cement jealous.”

You bat your hand dismissively. “Hes not gonna caaare.”

“Oh yes he will. And remind me again why we named our cat Cement?

“Uh, we were both drunk and had gotten him the day before without a name picked out?”

“A whole year later and we still kept it. Worst pet owners ever.” Joel chuckles, opening the passenger door for you like he always does.

“Thank you.”

“Mhm.”

The giant basket of fruit goes into the back seat next to the gift bags before Joel slots himself into the drivers seat.

You fumble with the radio a bit, trying to see what else is on but ultimately landing back on your preferred station. Theyve been playing a lot of Linkin Park recently. Hell yeah. Joel buckles himself in at last, and pulls out of the parking lot.

“Marias gonna teach me how to make baked chicken,” You hum, gazing outside the window.

“You sure youre not jus’ unteachable?”

“Ha ha,” You lightly shove his shoulder, making him smile. “I thought you loved the meat sauce pasta I learned how to make.”

He settles into his seat more comfortably at the stop light, elbow rested on the window. “Got me with that one. Think I like ground turkey over beef, though.”

“Yeah? Me too. The beef tastes better but the turkey is lighter. Stops me from feeling all sick.”

“Agreed.”

Youre looking out the windshield now. Where did all the buildings go? Youre out of the city.

“Uh, Joel?”

“Mm?”

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere to kill time.”

“Yeah but where?”

“Youll see.”

Your brows pinch together. “I see a whole lot of nothing except for trees."

“Almost there.”

Joel makes a hasty left turn onto some campgrounds. Your stomach starts to twist into excited knots. Is he gonna show you a baby deer or something? Bunnies? He used to be a park ranger for this area, and would tell you stories about all sorts of baby animals hed run into.

The car comes to a stop, and he turns the engine off. Silence.

“So…Were out in the woods to kill time?”

“Mhm.” Joel unbuckles his seat belt and twists into the back to grab the spare jacket he usually keeps there, then gets out of the truck and comes around the back to open the door for you.

He holds your hand to help you get down from the passenger side, and as soon as both of your shoes hit the ground Joel is on you.

You dont know where your hands should go, youve kissed Joel a thousand times and yet you still get so flustered when he catches you by surprise. You keep your hands on his shoulders for now, letting him press wet kisses to your neck and shoulder.

“This is new right? The dress?” He gives your ass an appreciative squeeze through the fabric. “Thought you looked so pretty when you came down stairs in it.”

Your heads spinning. Something about your dress?

“Woulda been okay if you let me have you earlier.” He pulls away, examining your flushed face cradled by his hand. Every part of you just fits so well in his palms. “Then I thought, why not have you now? We got time to spare.”

“Joel- We- Someone could see us-” You sputter, and Joels already shaking his head with a knowing smirk. He pulls you around to the bed of the truck, popping it open, only pausing to spread open the jacket he grabbed, just having just thrown it in there when he came around to get you.

“No ones gonna come lookin’ for us.” He turns you around, pushing you down onto your front. “As long as youre quiet.”

Fuck. You really hate this game. At least, you like to tell yourself that.

Blood rushes to your ears while Joels rough palms lift up the skirt of your dress, exposing your ass and thighs to the cool air. He whistles from behind you.

“Red lace panties?” His fingers dont shy away from tracing along the fabric covering your cunt. “This new too?”

You crane your neck over your shoulder to look at his face. “Uh.. Surprise?”

Joels smiling now, fingers dipping under the lace. “Thas' awfully sweet of you.”

His touch slips and slides around your growing wetness, then trails down to your clit. Your voice wobbles a bit and fuck- fuck hes going too fast. “Joel- Ah-” You whimper and try to push yourself up to look at him but his hand is steady on your spine, keeping you down.

Smug, “Go on, sweetheart. Keep sayin’ my name. Jus’ like that.”

A whine escapes you when he pulls away, “Nooo.” You push your ass back, as if to entice him. You succeed, because hes skipped his usual routine of fucking you with his hands and is now unbuckling his belt.

Joel rolls you onto your back, and peels your underwear all the way off, bunching it up and shoving it into his back pocket. Your face burns just watching him.

“Think i'll hold onto these for a lil’ while.”

His hands push the back of your knees towards your chest, exposing your heat. Youll never get used to the way he just seems so interested just watching your cunt squeeze around nothing.

“Thats-” You swallow, pushing yourself up onto your elbows. "Joel.”

“Relax." He coos, "Seen it a thousand times already, and ill be seein' it a thousand more. Get used to it, honey.”

Your attention flickers down to where his dick is about to meet your entrance. Joels nudging you down onto your back again and pulling the top of your dress down to expose your chest. Its when youre distracted that he actually moves to push himself in.

Both of you groan together, and Joel could never get bored of fucking you, not when your cunt just pulses around him everytime hes inside you.

Joel wastes no time fucking you once he eases all the way inside. Youre trying your best to keep quiet. Shit is no easy task. Its like Joel is trying to get you guys arrested.

He props himself up with a hand near your head, and lets the other keep one of your legs pinned open. The moans start to claw out of your throat. “Joel- Joel-”

“Shh. Thas’ enough.” He growls through his teeth, fucking you harder. “Youre gonna- Gh- Get us caught-”

Something rustles between the trees, making you both freeze. You clasp your hands over your mouth, watching Joel straighten up to look around.

After a few seconds of squinting, Joel can see a few foxes moving about through the trees. Thank fuck. His shoulders visibly relax.

Hushed, “E-Everything okay?”

“Yeah, jus’ some animals.”

And like that, hes back to it. His dick is going to make your eyes permanently stay rolled into your head.

Joel is always just so handsome when hes pounding into you. His forehead gets shiny with sweat, and his jaw is tight from clenching his teeth, keeping himself quiet so he can focus on your moans. His face is noticeably redder against his usual farmers tan too. Really, hes just so attractive.

A flurry of yes and harder and fuck spills out of your mouth and into your palms. Not too loud, you try to remind yourself.

“Joel- S’too much-”

“Nah, thas’ not it.” He huffs, humorous. “You can take it. Y'always do. In fact, you love gettin’ your cunt bullied by me, aint that right?” As if to get his point across, he thrust in all the way to the hilt, making you keen. You forgot how to breathe, lungs drawing tight in your chest.

"Fuck," You manage to squeeze out.

Your palms push weakly at his shoulders, trying to ground yourself somehow. His head drops to the junction of your neck and shoulder, inhaling deeply.

“You good?” He checks in, breath hot on your skin. As if your crying isnt enough.

“So g-good, Joel- Fuck- Youre so good.”

With a little nod, Joels pushing himself up, switching to slow and deep strokes, really digging himself into you, and trying to find that spot he likes to call home.

He massages your chest, then squeezes your sides and your hips and finally, his thumb finds your clit. Immediately, you jolt.

“Oh fuck-”

“Quiet.” And he says it to keep the charade going, even though his favorite thing is hearing your sobs.

His thumb rubbing incessantly against your that sweet little nub of yours. You choke, and Joels chuckling, watching the way you squirm, body not knowing whether it should lean into his touch because its too good or away because its too much.

It starts with this firey feeling under the pad of his thumb, then deep inside your stuffed cunt. Youre going to cum.

Your hands fly to your mouth again, and you get all wide eyed from the sensation. Its cute. Your muscles pull taut, legs locking around Joels hips. Youre wailing into your palm when it happens.

“Good girl,” His voice soothes you through it. “Very good.”

He pets away the fly aways sticking to your sweaty face when its over. Your eyes drop shut while you catch your breath.

Joels moving again now. He rolls his hips a few times, and thumb is building the foundation of another orgasm in you. Youre shaking badly.

Your words slur too, “Cant- Too soon- Joel- Joel-”

“Another one.” Joel says firmly, but breathless.

Youre gasping, not sure where to focus your eyes. The trees around you look like theyre spinning. Your attention is back on Joel, whos looking rather satisfied watching you squirm and cry. If thats how wants to play, then fine.

Your hands slide up Joels biceps, and rests on the nap of his neck to bring him down. “Juh-Joel,” You pant, cradling his face with both hands. “Youre so good- The best-”

Oh, Joel likes that one, you can tell by the way he looks away briefly. Shyness. Excitement runs up your spine. Joel loves being told hes doing well.

“You are- Nghh-” You swallow the drool in your mouth, trying to get the words out clearly. “The best husband I could ever ask for.”

Joel wheezes, head dropping into the curve of your shoulder. “Please.”

“S’true,” You nod rapidly, fingers curling into his hair. “Youre so good to me and-and youre mine and- Joel- Im yours.”

“Jesus-” He groans, soaking up the feeling of you pressing kisses to his face and up his jaw.

“Hhah- No one else can have me, okay? No one- Not even-”

The name doesnt even come out of your mouth before Joels coming to a stop to slip his arms all the way around your middle. With the new leverage he has on your body, hes drilling his way into you. You fucking squeal, rules now long forgotten. Youre a useless ragdoll in his arms and he wouldnt have it any other way.

Your lips are shiny with spit and left over lip gloss, and he can still taste the mintiness in his tongue. Every now and again your eyes drop shut, but his dick just punches into your guts a little harder. Look at me.

Your brain is mush, just the way he likes it, and youre perfectly pliant in his arms, babbling over how good you feel. Hes kisses along the valley of your breasts now, stopping to suck the flesh of your nipples.

Youre just so pretty. Even when you have bedhead, or youre snotty from a cold, or youre all dirty from working in the garden youre still so pretty. Including now, all sweaty with you lipgloss all smudged and your mascara starting to run. Youre perfect.

Joel grunts loud, jaw clenched tight as he gets lost in the feeling of your insides. His perfect little wife.

When he cums, hes doubling over with a loud grunt, getting a few last thrusts in before his spent floods your cunt.

Youre blinking away your tears, now watching the clouds inch along the sky. It really is a beautiful day. You pet Joels sweaty hair, and kiss the side of his temple. Your core throbs faintly. Jesus, he did a number on you.

“Love,” You say softly, patting his back.

“Mm?”

“Get up.” Another pat. “Youre squishing me.”

Joel backs off to buckle himself up, but you stay seated to catch your breath and adjust your dress. At least it didnt get ripped during all the… Commotion. Not like last time.

“I need my underwear back.”

“Nope,”

“Joel.”

He kisses the center of your forehead and helps you down from the bed and into the passenger seat instead. “Told you i'm keepin’ ‘em.”

You sputter, “I cant go to barbecue commando!”

“Sure you can.” He pops open the glove compartment and gets out some tissues, hand snaking under your dress again to clean you. You sigh softly at the sensation.

“Youre the worst.”

“I am indeed the worst.” Joel pulls the seatbelt over your chest and clicks it in. “You can tell me all about it on the way to Tommys.”

#joel miller #the last of us #hbo joel miller #the last of us part 1 #the last of us season one #tlou #joel miller x reader #joel x reader #joel miller x you #fanfic #mocha writes #joel miller fanfic #pedro pascal #modern au #smut fic #might cross post to ao3 idk...#pleeaaaase tell me if u guys like this #glaze me glaze me glaze me #Lie 2 me and say u love it...

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randomshyperson · 8 months ago

Text

Five Times Carol Danvers Kisses You

Summary: The five times Carol Danvers kisses you until you two finally get together.

Warnings: Mentions but nothing explicit, a lot of fluff, mutual pining (and typical angst of trope), best friends to lovers, pre-canon-compliant (takes place before Carol is taken), kissing, happy(ish) ending. | Words: 4.836k

A/N-> As mentioned on this blog before, I absolutely love the dynamics of "Five Times Something" and after watching The Marvels I became obsessed with Carol Danvers, and here I am with something about my beloved blondie. It's short and sweet, and I didn't want to write anything too angsty but you can get hints of what's to come from the canon (Dr.Lawson being a Kree in disguise and what will happen to Carol). But the fic doesn't address this directly and ends up with a happy scene. Let's all live in denial.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

-&-

One.

“This is not a place to raise a child” was the justification your father used when he left. Funny enough, he didn't take the child, you, away from all the high-tech military weapons that he described as inadequate for a child to grow up around.

His lost, it what your mother said, an easy smile on her lips while she offered you a gentle squeeze on the shoulder. She still had some grease on her jacket and a lot of dust on her hair but she looked beautiful. That was just how things were for Wendy Lawson.

And because she was the best mom anyone could ask for, or at least that was what you would perceive it with your limited references of healthy families. She was the best because she would let you sit around while she worked for the Shield, casually teaching you advanced engineering like it was the same homework you had from secondary school.

That was the only life you knew: Afternoons of trying to stay out of the way of Shield Agents and their big weapons until you were old enough to have a gun yourself.

But before that time came, some of them worried you weren't having a decent childhood. Away from guns at least.

You don't know which of the Agents suggested to Doctor Lawson the kart track, but you wish you could thank them. Your mother, as the busy cientist she always has been, was not available to be around all of the evenings you wished to spend there but she trusted your independence to use the bus after school. Besides, you had the impression that there were always Shield Agents keeping an eye on you no matter where you went.

Só for three whole years, that old place was your favorite. You would run out from the classroom with the first ring of the bell to get to the kart track as fast as you could, and for all those three years, you were also the best runner there.

Of course, it cost you some bloody noose and bruised hands. Especially with sore losers little boys who were very unpleased to be second placed by some random girl. There were also the parents, who would whisper not very lowly on how absurd it was to let an unsupervised little girl in such a violent activity.

As luck would have it, someday you were no longer the only little girl around.

The Danvers were local, and you always thought there were only three of them. The grumpy father and the loud and popular sons. But one day, the one with the warmest smile, the youngest son brought someone with him.

His little sister's name was Carol. She had her blonde hair tied down and she looked ready to punch anyone who gave her a hard time. All the Danvers kind looked the same to be fair. Blonde, strong and angry.

Unlike her brother and their free pass to do as they please, Carol was constantly reprimanded by her father. Even there, in front of the whole crowd and runners, he would scream and pinch her ear, adding to the fury that shone behind Carol's little blue eyes.

The other children would whisper just like their parents but growing up with spies and secret agents gave you this second nature to sneak in and out of places without being noticed. You weren't supposed to hear some of the adults whispering how Mr.Danvers drank more than he should or how his older son was leaving next summer for the army with a purple eye he didn't get in the training. You weren't supposed to but you did.

So the next time Carol crashed a car with one of the other runners, you messed up your perfect record to help her.

Her dad screamed again, as usual. But he left, muttering she could find her way home since she was so clever and Carol had those thick tears in her eyes that made them bluer, so you were helping her before you could give a second thought to it.

She didn't mind that you took her hand and brought her to the administration lobby. She's more interested in knowing how the hell you knew how to get there in the first place.

When you told her you grew up with spies she laughed thinking you were joking. You decided to tell her more stories in the hope it would distract her from the pain of the cuts she got in her legs from the crash.

It worked.

Carol had colorful patches on both her knees when you two sneaked out of there to the bus stop. You could take her home if she wished because you knew a lot about public transport but Carol smiled and said she could do it alone; Her dad was often not around and with soldiers brothers, she knew a lot about doing things by herself.

Yet, she appreciates the gesture and the thought. Her bus should be here in 25 minutes so you sit next to her and let your healthy knee brush her bruised one.

“My name is Carol Danvers by the way.”

You have to chuckle at her line.

“I know who you are, Danvers.” You retort with an easy smile. She looks up with curiosity. You chuckle again. “You know your name is on the scoreboard, right?”

She laughs, almost shyly. You don't know that yet but Carol is not the best at making friends. Especially girlfriends because apparently, every girl hated how not 60s girly behavior she acted on as much as any boy.

You didn't mind. If anything, it kinda made you like her more.

“You didn't have to do that back there you know?” She starts over, fingers tugging at the bandaid you put above her knee. “Lose the race to check on me.”

You shrug, eyes on the road. “No worries. There'll be other races. Besides, you're the only real competition I get there. If you're not participating, what's the fun in winning?”

Carol's cheeks grow a little hotter, but you're both too young to know it has nothing to do with the sun above your heads. You offer her a smile and she gets up to signal to the bus.

But before she leaves, she turns to you again.

It's quicker than her crash that morning, the thank you little peck on your right cheek but is as meaningful as losing a three-year Invictus status on a track race for someone.

Carol nearly flees the scene once she catches the first glimpse of surprise in your expression. You were caught off guard, that's all. But all you can do is laugh to yourself as you watch her run to her bus.

Tomorrow, when you are back here, you'll find Carol so you can share your lunch with her. Today, you would walk home with no clue why the spot she kissed was tingling.

-&-

Two.

Shield Academy is not the army.

It is, as the name suggests, an academic program for the gifted-minded. It's a place where a child who grew up surrounded by the brightest minds on the planet can get it easily.

Well, of course, there's a lot of studying and tiring exams that you wouldn't describe as easy but when taking everything into consideration, the only place a brainy - or huge nerd as Carol would call it - could end up was there.

So while you had big dark blue sweaters with the Shield logo on them, Carol had worn out public school uniforms.

But she was doing okay. In fact, if anyone asked you, even though you were the nerd one in that friendship, for you, Carol was quite brilliant. She had a quick mind and such a strong, well, everything. She was as clever as she was kind. She was passionate about anything she cared for and she was easily your favorite person.

The kart track gave space for the public library and the green plains behind Shield Academia as you two grew up. Carol would take her bike from across town and spend the whole day after school in those green yards with you. Often, she had a football with her while you had a book.

And while you tried to escape your Shield colleagues, Carol would find her spot at your side. She would watch those training agents and wish to be like them, while both of you knew she would follow her brothers to the military when the time came.

But for now, you're sixteen. And Carol has been your best friend for almost 6 years now. You're not sure if friends have anniversaries or if it's something reserved for dating, and since you're not gonna ask any of the agents around, especially not Doctor Lawson, you just assume is okay to get Carol a gift.

She had been wishing for a walkman for so long - she had three already, all broke down during some of her naughty antics, from jumping into the reservation without remembering to take them off her backpack to get into a fight with older kids who thrown her stuff just for the fun of it. So yes, she had those before and she loved music but somehow she always ended up breaking them so you thought maybe because you were the one gifting it, she would be more careful.

You were right of course, but that's hardly the point.

Carol started to act strange after the gift. Even days later, during movie night at her house, she got quiet, which is definitely not a Carol Danvers kind of attitude, so you started to wonder if the present was a good idea at all.

That of course, until Carol clarified the whole thing.

“I got you something too. For, hum, the anniversary thing.”

You pinched her ribs, the nearly shy behavior was such an odd thing to testify that was actually terrifying you. Carol has been your best friend for way too long for that or anything to be awkward between you two.

But then again, adolescence makes everything weird.

You don't open the gift very graciously. Because you were in the middle of movie night, of course, hands full of popcorn butter and Carol was being weird and suspect that you just wanted to put an end to it.

You chuckle at her worn-out team jacket there.

“So your gift to me is your jacket?” You asked with a confused frown, watching your friend struggle with her words the next moments.

“No, I mean yes. But not, just that.” She starts and it's quite the scene. Carol Danvers not being able to talk when that's all she does. “It's my favorite jacket. I… really like it.”

“Do you want it back then?” You suggest with a confused laugh but Carol shakes her head immediately, her cheeks rosy.

“God, no, that’s not…” she takes a deep breath. “I like the jacket, a lot, but not as much as I like you. So I thought, maybe if I can give you something that I really like, it will mean…”

“Oh, I get it.” You say with a smile, holding the jacket against your chest as Carol switches the weight in her foot. “Thank you, blondie. But you don't have to give me your favorite stuff to show me you like me. You don't have to give me anything at all really. Perhaps, all you have to do is say it and I'll believe you.”

Carol nods, shallowing dryly, and without missing a beat, she repeats her words from before: “I really like you.” It's nearly a whisper, and the way she struggles to hold your gaze tells you everything you need to know.

You smile, aware of the warmth spreading in your cheeks and ears.

“I really like you too, Carol.” You tell her and with no hush, you put her jacket on. The blonde in front of you takes a shaky breath once the jacket is properly around your body. You're distracted with the new outfit to take notice of the new dark shine her eyes hold. “Gotta admit it, Danvers, I could totally worm the athletic style. I mean, I look super cool don't I?”

But your question goes unanswered. Carol moves forward, her hands grab the collar of the gifted jacket and just like the first time, she kisses you quicker than you can manage to process.

Her lips are dry against yours because she's nervous. Trembling and terrified. You pull away, and Carol has her eyes closed tightly, breathing unevenly.

You take a deep breath and lick your lips to moisten them a little and the second kiss is much better.

There's this soft noise she makes when you move your mouth but the second you feel her tongue on your lower lip, there's noise around you two.

As if getting electrocuted, Carol jumps away just in time for her evidently drunk father to stumble inside the garage.

Carol is not eight anymore, but she's the only one left in that house. Her older brother taught her five different ways to break someone's noose, but Carol still shakes like the leaves if her father is around with his harsh words and angry looks.

This time, however, he takes a long glance at you both. The guilty looks, accelerated breathing, and he just laughs.

The only thing he says is a slur that makes Carol flinch. Then he turns his back and climbs the stairs to his bedroom, passing out in the hallway before he can make it through.

“Carol, I-” You try but she forces a smile and nods at the door.

“Please go.” She asks. “I have to take him to bed and you don't have to stay.”

“But-”

“Please.”

You leave. And Carol doesn't bring up that night for the next two years.

-&-

Three.

Graduation means Army. More specifically, the Air Force because of course Carol Danvers wants to fly away from everything and everyone.

“Not everyone.” She frowns when you tell her that. Then she smiles, legs brushing yours at the back of her truck. “I would love to have you up there with me.”

You chuckle, giving her shoulder a little bump with your own.

“Sorry Blondie, you know I hate planes.” You joke but the shine in her eyes is deeper now.

“What about spaceships?” She insists it.

You sigh into the night, pensive for a second.

“Well, Mom would probably love it if I ever suggest anything that involves flying.” You say, breaking into a chuckle as your hand moves to the leg you have bent in that position, which allows you to trace your fingers toward your ankle. “Of course, anything other than my secret little Pegasus.”

Carol gives a compliance smile at the mention of the secret tattoo you got on her seventeenth birthday but continues to watch you in silence.

The stars are shining bright above you two, and the parked truck gives as much privacy as one could get in that neighborhood. If you and Carol weren't girls, people would make conclusions.

Perhaps they’ll do it anyway.

“What would I even do up there, Danvers?” You ask her because Carol is so passionate about flying that you're starting to wonder if she is able to see a whole different world up there that you can't.

This time, her hand finds you before her lips. She brings her fingers to yours resting on the truck and locks them. She gets closer and closer and gives you all the time in the world to push her back.

But she's Carol, and she's beautiful and she's your best friend. Why wouldn't you want to kiss her?

There's tongue this time. Hesitant at first then curious, until finally hungry. Of course, Carol Danvers is a good kisser, this asshole.

You break apart, to complain with a husky tone that is unfair but Carol only chuckles before kissing you again. And again. Until somehow you end with your back against her truck, painting into her mouth.

And Carol is seventeen years old and she's a huge virgin like you who really wants this to change tonight. Not just that, of course, but she's still a teen and that's exactly what she chooses to say in order to make this less life-changing than it is.

Because sleeping together as a way of ending high school without the V Card has a completely different meaning than sleeping together because you really want to ruin a friendship.

You swallow at her suggestion, aware that the heat in your veins doesn't cover for the way your heart just broke inside your chest.

But you smile and tell Carol you love her, making sure it sounds platonic. Just to hurt her just as much.

It works, but she kisses you anyway.

-&-

Four.

Maria Rambeau is the most incredible person you have ever met. She's clever and fun and kindhearted. It's so easy to love her and it comes so naturally, that you can't really blame Carol.

You also have no right to be jealous, you tell yourself.

After all, Carol asked more than once for you to at least consider following her to the Air Force. You both had military families, so it made sense for her that you both ended up following the same path.

You were not entirely excluded from that, of course. But unlike Carol with her soldier training, you had medical classes. And while she and Maria learned to shoot people, you learned to heal them.

That of course until the third year, when Carol's training moved to space crafting and yours moved to biological charts. The Pegasus was not the only military project available for you, and being home was good but every time you caught a glimpse of the empty fields near the station, you remember afternoons with Carol and the lack of her ache a hell lot inside your chest.

But visiting her at the base and then at a local bar was a bittersweet occasion.

Because time went by and Carol made a new friend. A lovely and brilliant and apparently less confused woman new best friend. Maria who made her laugh and blush and was such a great company that you couldn't hate her no matter how much the jealousy burned inside your veins.

Somehow, no matter how many dove eyes Carol threw at Maria, she didn't catch them. Immune to her charm entirely. You kinda wished she would teach you that.

The last free week you had was spent visiting Carol and ending up in a bar. But Maria's night was continuing with a good-looking soldier somewheres else, so yours and Carol's would continue with cheap drinks.

It was probably common sense, not to mix alcohol with feelings but you and Carol clearly skipped that class.

You ended up pressed behind the bar's wall in a messy attempt of drunken make-out with your former best friend.

Carol tasted like beer and the army's year changed her. Even drunk, she knew her way around a woman's body now and you had to force your stupid brain to stop wondering about who she had been practicing with. Perhaps Maria was not immune to her charm as you thought she was.

Just as things were getting out of hand, that is, it was probably against some army rules to have sex behind one bar in the military area, Carol pulled away.

She looked so good like that, with messy hair and flushing cheeks, her lips swollen due to the whole thing.

But her eyes were so sad. And you couldn't push the alcohol and the lust away to have clear thoughts on that.

“We can't do this again.” She declares with a seriousness that makes you swallow hard. “I can't.”

She stumbles away and you nearly slip down the hall on your shaky legs. Carol is looking for her car keys but she will definitely fall asleep on the seat.

To be fair, you kinda wished that night would end in her car seat, just in very different scenarios.

“Why not, Danvers?” You manage to question once the anger pushes a little of the alcohol away. Carol sighs tiredly. “Why?” You almost scream and she stops in her tracks, turning to give you a hurt look.

“I can't do this again, okay?” She retorts and she's drunk but she's so hurt. You can see it in her eyes and it kills you to think it is something you have done it. “I don't have the strength in me to get over you again”.

Your world freezes for a whole second. Your mouth is bitter suddenly.

“O-over me?” You repeat her words, confusion mixing with the pain you feel growing in your chest. “When… When were you under me?”

The question is the best of what your drunk brain can come up with but it's enough for Carol to understand.

She lets out a sad chuckle. “C'mon, Lawson. How could you not know? Everyone did. Even my dad, especially my dad.” She corrects herself then, bitterly before taking a deep breath. “It's past. It doesn't matter anymore. We are no longer kids, messing around with things we don't understand. I know what am I. And I know we shouldn’t. I won't jeopardize our friendship again for someone I cannot have.”

There are tears in your eyes, and Carol has the fucking worst timing in the world because your brain simply can't catch up with the meaning of this conversation with all the booze in the way.

“Carol, what are you even saying?”

She just smiles, giving a nod to the bar.

“Let's get inside, I'll get you a cab back to your hotel.”

She doesn't let you question further and the next morning, when the hangover barely allows you to open your eyes, Carol says the worst thing you did last night was try dancing with a Statue.

-&-

Five.

Doctor Lawson has been acting strange lately. She says it's work stress when she returns your calls and ignores your advice about her retiring.

You use your mother's stress as an excuse to come home, and it seems ridiculous that you have to invent reasons to see Carol, but she gives you no choice. Things have been very strange between you in recent months.

The house is a mess, and it's the first time you've worried about the possibility of dementia.

Strange phrases, disconnected words. You think about calling the head of Shield when you put Dr. Lawson to bed after making her some hot tea, but you end up calling Carol.

Your former best friend brings her old truck into your garage.

"Hey, blondie." She hugs you first at the greeting, and you sigh with satisfaction at the contact. You almost forget the stress of the whole meeting with your mother. "It's good to see you."

"I missed you." Carol says with a smile, squeezing you tighter before letting go. "What happened? You sounded worried on the phone."

You sigh before telling her everything you saw, standing there leaning on Carol's truck in the dim light of the garage. It's her turn to sigh when you finish.

"Good thing I brought beer." She comments, getting a laugh out of you.

You don't even notice the time passing that night, but it's like being back in senior year, sitting side by side in the back of Carol's truck, forgetting the world around you for a moment.

When the case of beers is about to run out, you've said almost everything you have to say. Carol thinks she needs to add something more.

"I know the circumstances aren't the best but... I can't say I'm sad." She begins, looking straight ahead, a half-full can of beer in her hands. "With the possibility of you coming to live here again, I mean. I've kind of hated Washington since you left. And Shield too, for taking you away."

You giggle shyly at this and don't know what to say to Carol, so you just decide to hug her. But you're a bit dizzy after the third beer and miscalculate your approach. You end up too close to her face and can see almost in slow motion how the blue darkens or how Carol chokes on her breath.

"I'm sorry, I-" you begin in a hoarse voice, but she doesn't let you finish. The beer can slips out of her hand as she uses both to pull your face towards her.

It's an intense, messy, and passionate kiss. Carol swallows all the sighs that escape your lips as she presses her mouth to yours. Her tongue doesn't ask for passage. You melt against her and try your best to match her energy, suddenly feeling very dizzy, unrelated to the beer.

Her hands move from your face to your neck and down to your waist. Carol mentions pulling you onto her lap, but the balcony lights flicker on and she grunts as she pulls away.

You're still blinking spellbound at the whole thing, trying to catch your breath as she stands up, adjusting her hair.

"Fuck, I shouldn't have done that." She mutters more to herself than to you, hoarse and upset. You swallow dry. "I'm so stupid."

"Carol."

"You're so fucking stupid, Carol Danvers, I swear to God." She ignores your call, continuing to curse quietly to herself. You frown, but end up looking at the porch; your mother has woken up and looks just as lost as before and you really need to check on her.

When you get out of the truck, you touch Carol on the shoulder, and she turns around almost in despair.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that, I'm leaving-"

"Carol, shut up." You cut her off and don't let her say another word.

She shuts up immediately. "I really have to get back inside, and make sure my mom doesn't turn on any water or store the cat in the fridge again." You chuckle apologetically, stroking her cheek. "But I need you to understand that this isn't a mistake, an accident or a thoughtless act after a few beers. At least it isn't and it never was for me. We need to start talking to each other."

Carol nods quickly, swallowing as she looks down at your swollen lips. "Yeah, talking is good."

You smile, and hear the sound of the cat in the house and think you'd better start running. "Later, okay?"

"Later."

But your mother doesn't have dementia. She's not even allowed in a regular hospital. Shield is strangely private about everything, but you're practically coerced into signing confidentiality papers about the current state of Dr. Lawson, who seems to miraculously improve after spending an hour in a room with other agents.

Carol is the only person you can talk to about things, and she has news of her own.

"Maria is pregnant." She tells you, with a twinkle in her eye, without waiting for you to finish absorbing the news. "And she wants me to be the godmother!"

You're happy for Maria, especially perhaps because she's seeing that handsome soldier and she and Carol have nothing going on. Also, you need to tell Carol that you can go back to Washinton now that your mother is better.

"Oh, I thought..." The blonde hesitates as she hears the news, trying not to look upset by forcing a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. "I thought you'd decided to stay."

You're having breakfast in the living room of your house, Dr. Lawson is working upstairs. You swallow the bitter feeling of hurting Carol again.

"I would, for Mom. But why would I stay in Louisiana?" It's a rhetorical question because you both know very well what would make you stay. Carol laughs sadly, looking down. You get tired of pretending. " I would stay for you. I would stay for... us."

She looks at you in silence, a conflict of emotions on her face. "Don't be ridiculous, you can't just give up your career for a friendship-"

"Carol." You cut her off seriously, and she choked on her sentence, her eyes as tearful as yours. You give her a small smile, trying to ignore the way your heart is pounding in your chest. "You know that's not what I'm saying."

She swallows dryly, and despite reaching out to take your hand, she insists; "I'm gonna need you to say it."

"God, you're such an asshole." You gasp with emotion, laughing as tears of happiness escape yours and her eyes. Carol also laughs but waits. "Okay, Danvers. You've got me. I'm completely, irrevocably in love with you. I have been for a long time, maybe since the first time I saw you. And I'm sorry it took me so long to tell you."

Carol almost knocks over the coffee table when she moves in to kiss you but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#carol danvers x reader #carol danvers fics #captain marvel x reader #captain marvel imagines #captain marvel #marvel imagines

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loviingpedri · 5 months ago

Text

you got a fetish for my love. - pedri

prompt: obsessed pedri is everything.

fwb; not an established relationship

warnings: grammar issues, kinda toxic tbh, explicit/suggestive content (no in-depth details, minors dni), cursing, not proofread,

credits to owners for all images

and there he was, at your door again.

you honestly felt bad for the man.

one call. that was the only thing he needed. he would be at your house within minutes just by a singular phone call.

and you knew he would always answer. because his fear would be that if you would leave him.

standing in your mirror as pedri hugged you from behind. he was admiring every detail of you.

your hair, eyes, eyelashes, lips, teeth, jewelry. he loved every part of it.

and you would imagine you were returning the favor for him.

he wishes.

you reapplied your lipstick. his favorite shade.

thinking to yourself, “what makes pedri so obsessed with me?” staring at yourself more, you knew why he wanted to be nearer. brushing out your hair with your fingers, pedri gently touched the strands.

you knew what he wanted. you wanted it as much as he did. can’t deny his appetite.

every time he visited, the guilt consumed you. both of you couldn’t get enough of each other. you took a deep breath and sighed as he was kissing your jawline, moving his lips down to your neck. he deserved better. someone who could love him. someone who had all the time in the world for him. someone who wasn’t just a fuck buddy. you tried to tell him, but one thing that goes into one ear, goes out the other.

every time you try to push him out, he comes right back. there wasn’t any point of blaming him. it was a situation that neither of you could escape. he’s got a fetish for your love.

as he pulled down the spaghetti strap of your shirt, his voice sent shivers down your back. “if i were you, i’d do me too.” his whispers made your ears ring. it wasn’t a good idea to continue this situationship. you felt like you reached your limit to this. you craved for something more. for real love.

you couldn’t blame him for this. it was a mutual decision made. to you, it was like an automatic vow that you couldn’t catch feelings. it was embarrassing to admit that you failed. you were hooked to his body, like he was hooked to yours.

taking you over and under and twisted up like origami.

“i’m so obsessed with you. the way you walk, the way you talk.” knowing he was smiling while casually doing what he does best, you didn’t wanna push him out anymore.

pedri figured out he was getting under your skin. you usually played hard to get, but something changed in the air.

the rumors among your friends that you were doing each other was already insane. you didn’t want it to be public, but your mind was changing as pedri’s hand was on your shoulder.

you weren’t expecting to catch feelings for him. or were you just trying to sympathize?

feeding pedri’s fetish was done. but what if it was the opposite. all along, you thought it was him who was addicted. what if you had a fetish for his love? it was a valid explanation to why you couldn’t stop calling him. it also explained why you felt lonely when he wasn’t with you. the tables have turned. you couldn’t take it anymore. you were hurt by the thought of him leaving now. the pressure was growing, a need to open your mouth and talk about it.

“pedri,” you spoke low as he was gently rubbing your arm, trying to get comfortable cuddling. “can we talk about something?”

“of course, what’s on your mind?” he kissed the top of your head.

“what if we took things seriously? no more playing around? we can’t keep doing this forever.” the silence was killing you. you were feeling anxious for his response. what if you were just imagining things? what if you only thought he was hurting, but it was only your imagination. what if this was his plan all along?

“maybe.”

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just-a-creep-babe · 2 years ago

Note

61 for the smut thing? Can you do EJ

Ooooooh so i was sUper inspired during this one, and I’m thinking bout turning it into a multiple-part fic--would y’all be interested? 👀

Lmk if you enjoy ❣️ ✨

~Requests are closed but commissions are open!~

Join my Patreon if you’d like to support me!

Masterlist: x

61. “Just…once. Please. I just need to taste you once.”

It wasn’t a secret that the hybrid had a thing for you

But you didn’t know just how badly he wanted you

Or how often he found himself thinking of you

And how often that led to him rutting his stiff cock into his fist, desperately wishing it was you beneath him instead

You knew Jack was into you

But you didn’t know he was borderline obsessed with you

He passes you down the hall on Friday night, and your scent alone is nearly enough to drive him feral

You pause in your tracks, then call out to him

“Oh, Jack!”

God, just the way you say his name has the muscles in his abdomen tensing

He turns to you

“Yeah, what’s up?”

He tries not to cringe at how husky his voice sounds—you somehow always seem to coax a deeper pitch from him, almost as if by some kind of instinct

You smile, and god, he swears you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen

“Are you free right now?”

For you? Always

“I wanna get some training done,” you continue, entirely unaware of the way his heart is beating in his chest, “but I can’t find anyone else to spar with”

“I’m free,” he blurts the words out faster than intended, but only because the thought of you sparring with someone else makes his blood boil

“Great,” you smile again, and he can feel himself getting warmer, “are you ready for it right now, or do you have to change or something?”

“Now’s fine,” he hums

He gestures for you to lead the way, which you happily oblige

You make small talk as you walk down the corridor to the gym together

He could listen to you all day

He wants to hear every possible sound that can escape your delicate little throat; your laughter, your hums, your moans, your screams

Fuck, he has to distract himself

By the time you get to the training mats, he’s already partially hard

And though they won’t be fun to work out in, he’s thankful he wore his dark jeans instead of his grey sweats—he hates the thought of making you uncomfortable just because his damn pants might betray his arousal

“You really gonna fight me in that?” you laugh, and for a split second, he’s scared you can read his mind

But then he realizes you’re talking about his oversized hoodie, and relief washes over him

Wait—are you flirting with him?

Dumb grin on his face, he shakes his head and pulls the top over his head, tossing it out of the way into the corner of the room

“That better?”

He’s shirtless beneath it, and he almost can’t help but tense his muscles to give you a bit of a show

“Mmh, yeah, I guess it’ll do~” you tease

Fuck, fuck, fuck

He forces himself to think about Jeff and BEN to hopefully ease the way his pants keep tightening around him

He wants nothing more than to inhale your scent to see if there’s any change in your hormones

Does seeing him shirtless like this turn you on—even if just the slightest bit?

But he knows he’d be done for if he focuses too much on your scent

It’s already hard enough for him to control himself around you as is

You bring your hands up either side of your face, readying your stance, and he does the same

A mutual nod is shared, indicating you’re both ready, and then you’re making the first move

You step towards him and try to throw a hook

He dodges easily, then retaliates by kicking at the foot you’ve shifted your weight to

You stumble, but only for a second before using the momentum to try for another punch, this time aimed at his stomach

Again, he sidesteps it, his instincts making him unnaturally light on his feet

He wonders if he should let you get a few hits in; he’d hate to see you train with someone else just because he so obviously outmatches you

But while he’s distracted, you take the opportunity to fake out another punch, only to spin on your heels and give him a roundhouse kick

He tries to dodge it at the last second, but combined with his previous dilemma and the fact that he’s still very much so trying to conceal a boner, you hit him right in his side

He chokes out a groan, clutching the spot you landed the blow, and while you’re ahead, you take another shot, this time at his legs

He’s just as shocked as you must be when you get the hit in

He falls to his knees, and you’re about to drop your attack stance when he reaches out and grabs your ankle

His instincts take over for a split second, and the next thing he knows, he’s on top of you, pinning you down, and the both of you are panting heavily

Well, there go his attempts at hiding his hard-on

“Jack—“

You cut yourself off when you notice the way he’s looking down at you

The air seems to grow thick

Neither of you say anything

You both just lie there, staring at each other, sweaty body on sweaty body while you try to catch your breaths

And then, it happens

He makes the fatal mistake of breathing you in

Your scent is intoxicating

As soon as he gets a whiff, he can’t help but nestle into your neck to breathe in more of you

It’s not just your sweat—you’re turned on

You want him

His pelvis digs into yours, rolling circles between your thighs

“J-Jack—“

You gasp his name, and he almost has to stop himself from biting down into your neck right then and there

He wants to claim you, brand his mark into your skin

You’re his, you’re all his

The only thing stopping him from doing that right now is his damn fucking mask

“J-Jack, stop—“

His body freezes at the command

The word stop repeats itself in his clouded, lust-drunk mind

“W-we can’t,” you swallow thickly, “we can’t do this”

“…Why not?”

Any other time, it would’ve made him cringe to hear how much of a snarl his voice sounds like

But right now, he’s so horny, he can hardly bring himself to care

“It-it’s not—we just can’t. We’re just friends”

Friends

The word stings

He wants to spit it out, tear it in half because it’s in the way of him getting what he wants

A groan escapes him, something guttural and frustrated

You can’t lie—you want him too

He knows it, he can smell it

His cock twitches, and he notices the way it has more of your delicious scent filling the room

He buries his face into your neck again, cursing his fucking mask for blocking his lips from your skin, but knowing all too well it’s probably for the better

Breathing you in again has his hips rolling into you involuntarily

He can’t help it

He doesn’t even know if he’s really in control of himself anymore, or if it’s just the demonic instincts taking over

“Jack”

You say his name again, and oh, how he wishes it meant something different

“Just…once. Please,” he chokes the words out

He’s desperate

“I just need to taste you once”

He watches you bite your lip, brows furrowed, the need evident in your eyes

It’s pathetic, he shouldn’t be begging like this

But he’s so, so fucking desperate

He’s almost surprised when you finally make up your mind and give a shy nod

But it’s more than enough of the confirmation he needs

His hands travel down your form, trying to memorize every curve of your body beneath his touch

He’s almost salivating by the time he reaches your shorts

He looks up at you one last time, like he’s asking for permission again, and when you nod once more, biting your lip, he pulls the material all the way down

He thinks he might be in heaven when your bare cunt is revealed to him

You’re so wet you’re glistening

And your scent has his head spinning—to the point where he can’t focus on anything else

He wants to take his time, good lord, he wants to savor this, but he’s too impatient for his own good

He pushes his mask up to kiss at your thighs and hips, his sharp teeth occasionally leaving teasing nicks into your soft flesh

Your hands reach out to fist at his hair, legs spreading apart just the faintest bit more

When his tongue first makes contact with your folds, he groans deeply

He must be in heaven

He’s immediately addicted, hooked on the taste of your dripping sex

He grasps your thighs, tugs your legs over his shoulder, and firmly holds you in place

When he presses his lips to your cunt, just like that, he’s gone

He loses himself entirely to you

He sucks at your clit, lapping long strokes up your slit, and circling at your entrance

The way your body reacts to him, the way your cunt clenches every time he delves further into you, all those fucking sounds you’re making for him

He wants more

He needs more, so much fucking more

You pull his hair, whimpering his name, and he has to stop himself from grinding down into the training mat beneath him

He’s so hard, it’s almost painful

But as long as he gets to keep fucking you on his tongue, he’s over the moon

He’s so lost in you that he almost fails to notice the way your thighs start shaking around him

You’re getting close, and every nudge of his lips and tongue against your clit is making you moan even louder for him

“F-fuck, Jack— Fuck!—“

Your back arches, lifting off the ground

You look like a goddess

Even as you cum, he can’t bring himself to stop

You’re moaning and squirming, writhing in the palms of his hand, and something about it is driving him absolutely feral

He snarls, pushing his tongue deeper down your sex until he can feel you clenching around him

The string of curses falling from your parted lips is like a prayer he knows he won’t forget

He only stops when you start pulling at his hair, trying to tug him off of you

You’re shaking from the overstimulation

He, on the other hand, is throbbing in his jeans

He’s never felt so desperate

He wonders if he’s on the verge of triggering a heat

He licks at his lips, tasting your arousal off of his skin

The room is filled with your scent, and your taste is on his tongue, but if it were up to him, he’d still have more

And fuck, you’re so cute when you’re all flushed and panting after your orgasm

What he wouldn’t give to be able to see you like this all the time

He sits up, and he has to tense his muscles to prevent himself from shaking with need as you fix your shorts back on

He wants to say something, anything, but he’s at a loss for words

The word friends still hangs in the dead air between the two of you

It’s just about the only thing stopping him from folding you into a mating press and filling you with his seed

You look unsteady on your feet when you pull yourself up to stand

He looks up at you, still kneeling in front of you, and all he can picture is how good you’d look sitting on his face right now

Why must you make him so insatiable?

You make up some excuse about needing to go, looking shy and flustered and bashful all at once

He wants to say something that’ll convince you to stay, but he’s way too horny to think straight

And for the first time this evening, he’s thankful he’s still wearing his mask

It’s pushed halfway up his face, but maybe that’s just enough to conceal his expression so that you can’t tell all the depraved thoughts he’s having

He’s left there, kneeling on the training mat he just ate you out on, as he watches you leave

And he thinks fuck it, he’ll make sure that won’t be the only time he gets to do that to you

#creepypasta #eyeless Jack #eyeless Jack x reader #eyeless Jack x reader smut #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x reader smut

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valiwrites · 1 month ago

Note

Hi! can you do a fic about Marc Bernal where he's super obsessed and clingy w his gf and when they're out a group of girls are trying to hit on him, but he doesn't keep much attention to it and when he finds his gf he got completely glazed and just has eyes for her.

EYES ONLY FOR YOU

pairing: marc bernal x reader

type: fluff

warnings: none

<><><><><><><>

Marc Bernal wasn't the kind of guy who liked to go out much—well, unless his girlfriend was there. He’d become almost inseparable from her since they started dating, always wanting to know where she was, if she’d eaten, if she was happy. The kind of devotion that bordered on obsession, but in the sweetest way possible.

Tonight, though, she had convinced him to join her and some friends at a popular downtown spot. The lights were dim, the music was loud, and there were people everywhere. Marc was a little uncomfortable, not because he didn’t know anyone, but because he couldn’t see her. She had gone to the bar to grab drinks, and he hadn’t taken his eyes off the direction she disappeared in, but she hadn’t come back yet.

“Hey, Marc!” a group of girls called out, catching his attention for a second. They were standing near him, smiling a little too widely, their eyes lingering on him. He recognized one or two from his social circles—people he’d met briefly at events or through mutual friends. They seemed friendly enough, but there was a certain energy in the way they looked at him, as if they were sizing him up.

“You come here often?” one of them asked, stepping closer with a playful smile.

Marc gave a polite smile, feeling a bit awkward. “Not really, just here with my girlfriend tonight,” he replied, glancing around again, trying to catch a glimpse of her in the crowded bar.

“Oh, girlfriend?” another one of the girls said, her tone light, but with a hint of surprise. “Well, she’s a lucky girl. Must be hard keeping someone like you tied down.”

He chuckled, but his mind wasn’t on the conversation. He wasn’t really paying attention, only giving short responses, trying to be polite without engaging too much. Where *was* she? It had only been a few minutes, but his mind was already racing with a hundred different thoughts. Was she okay? Did she need help carrying the drinks?

One of the girls stepped even closer, clearly trying to flirt. “You sure she won’t mind if we steal you for a bit? You look like a fun guy.”

Before he could even respond, his eyes landed on her.

And suddenly, everything else melted away.

There she was, standing by the bar, laughing as she struggled with two cocktails in her hands. Her smile was bright, her hair glowing under the dim lights, and in that moment, Marc was gone. His heart skipped a beat, and a stupid grin crept onto his face. He had only been apart from her for a few minutes, but seeing her again felt like coming up for air after being underwater for too long.

Without a word to the girls still trying to get his attention, he made a beeline for her, completely oblivious to the whispers of confusion behind him.

"Hey, you need a hand?" he asked, slipping in next to her and gently taking one of the drinks from her grasp.

She looked up at him, eyes sparkling. "I can handle it, but thanks."

He leaned in, unable to resist kissing her temple. "I missed you."

She laughed softly, nudging him with her shoulder. "Marc, I was literally gone for five minutes."

"I know," he said, his voice warm and soft. "But it felt like forever."

They found a spot at a small table, and as they sat down, Marc’s attention never wavered. He listened intently as she talked, nodding along, smiling at every word. Every time someone walked past or a loud noise from the crowd caught his ear, he would instinctively lean closer to her, protective and attentive. The rest of the room faded into the background, all the people, the noise, the attention—none of it mattered as long as she was there.

“Are you even listening to me?” she teased, noticing the glazed look in his eyes.

He smiled sheepishly. “Always. I just can’t stop looking at you.”

She shook her head, amused, but there was no denying the warmth in her heart. Marc might’ve been clingy and a little too obsessed sometimes, but it was that devotion, that unwavering love that made her feel like she was the center of his universe. And as he leaned in closer, kissing her softly, she knew she wouldn’t have it any other way.

#football #football x oc #football x reader #football x y/n #football x you #marc bernal x y/n #marc bernal x you #marc bernal x reader #marc bernal

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eveningepiphany · 1 year ago

Text

welcome to the final show | H.S, part 3

my masterlist!

part one and part two!

summary: harry goes over to y/ns hotel for a good old room service dinner, also getting a little tipsy on wine, while starting to blur some lines. and it’s not long before things are no longer just between the two of them.

warnings: fluff, swearing, alcohol, getting a lil wine drunk, paparazzi, being confused on if you’re falling in love or just really good friends.

a/n: i’m so excited to finally have this written for you all! i’ve had some pretty bad writers block, hence the delay in getting it to you, but thank you so much again for your support and I hope you enjoy <3

———

There’s a certain type of attatchment that comes around once and a while. It’s rare.

It’s when things start to flourish. Maybe with a hobby, a passion, or a new found person. One your brain decides to put all its focus and interest on, to the point it’s all consuming.

This one gets stuck to you like glue. Hard to shake in the sense of no matter how hard you try to ignore it, it’s all you can think about.

Losing yourself in daydreams of something or someone without even realising, until you’re reaching for anything that will bring you closer to filling that need.

That’s exactly what’s leading you to be reaching for your phone at any given point of the day.

You imagine many perceive it to be a permanent growth on your person. But you can hardly help it. Texting is a simple way to reach someone. Feel connected.

So, safe to say you’ve messaged Harry more than your own family over the course of this trip.

You’ve become attached. To Harry Styles. Again…?

Of course, being a huge fan it’s easy to say you should probably already be accustomed to this, given your level of obsession.

But this is a whole other ball game. One that is becoming like an internal battle. Your already unhealthy and predisposed infatuation paired with now a real physical connection is enough to render you useless.

You reach for your phone. Text him, your brain begs. You consider. No, stop being clingy you loser, your brain rolls her metaphorical eyes. You place the phone down. Stare at a wall. Think about him. Rinse, repeat.

Not normal, you don’t think.

However, you search for some kind of justification. That you’re just good friends, and all that shit. It’s normal to miss someone you’re friends with.

If he considers you as that.

Which you would hope since you’ve been texting him enough it would be concerning if he saw you as just some mutual of his.

You’re also sitting in a cafe, unfortunately without him right now. Eating a croissant wishing that he were here. Allowing your gaze to linger on the chair across from yourself, imagining his solid frame filling up the empty space. What he would do if you stood up and ran a hand through his hair, maybe lent down a little so you could just—

The ring of the bell atop their entrance chimes and drags you out if your dangerous and spiralling thoughts. And for some reason get excited like you’ve somehow manifested this man to walk through the cafe door by thinking of him.

Feeling silly at the nag of disappointment in your stomach as you see an ordinary bloke saunter over to the till.

Maybe one you would check out, or emit some kind of interest in before you properly met Harry. You would feel disloyal now. Like the parasocial relationship has entered an entirely new level of psychotic.

If it’s still parasocial, that is. Or if now you’re just simply a girl with very cloudy and mixed feelings about a very beautiful man.

You audibly sigh out. Eating the final bite of your admittedly delicious croissant and picking up your phone.

You type out a message, sending it before you can even think it.

I’m in a cafe right now without you and you’ve honestly ruined them for me. I miss you and your free cups of tea.

Without me? Rude.

You laugh at his quip, watching as the little bubble pops back up indicating he’s typing.

I’m out right now, but if you’re not busy later we can do something? Go out or I can come over to yours.

You pluck mindlessly at your bottom lip with your teeth, how could you say no to that?

You stress over it either way.

well, you’re very welcome to come over to my hotel room. we can order room service if you want?

To this he texts back an agreement, seemingly keen. And you realise immediately you have to tidy your room before he comes over.

You swing him the location of where you’re staying, including your room and floor number.

Thank you love, ill be there in like 3 hours say? If that works for you.

At that, you stand, because who are you if not over-prepared. And it was time to go make sure your room didn’t like a war had been waged in it when he came over for the first time.

Cant be having a bad impression, you figured.

———

You did in fact rush back to your hotel complex. Not even stopping a crepe stall you passed by, which had to be a first for you. You clean the place until it appears well-kept at the least.

And once you’re finished, you easily fall back into overthinking the whole thing. So excited, yet getting those anxious jitters like a caffeine addict 12 hours no coffee.

Which is why you decide to busy yourself with an afternoon shower. And at the time you’d still had over an hour to go.

You take of course longer than you intended, and shortly after you come out there’s a knock at your door, easily making you jump as you tug a shirt over your head. Regretting the last minute decision for a shower since now you have wet hair and probably look like a right mess.

But it’s not like you can leave him out there while you go blow dry your hair, so you rush over to the door, and tug it open.

His brows shoot up, and a smile slowly blooms on his face as he takes in your appearance.

Your hair is still near dripping, and you stand in bike shorts and a loose tshirt. The most casual he’s ever seen you. Which he loved the look on you more than he admits to himself.

“Hi darling,” he smirks, a warm feeling settling over him as he keeps his eyes on you.

“Hey, Harry.” You stand for a few moments longer, finally shuflling out of his way to let him through the door. He is adorning a white shirt and has the cutest little bandana around his neck.

“I’m sorry,” You laugh, gesturing him inside, “I was drastically overestimating how long it would take me to shower… hence why im in this state.”

He pulls a hand from behind his back, a cup being presented to you.

“Don’t be silly, y’not in a state at all.”

“You’re joking—“ You gently take the cup from his ringed hands, “Harry!”

“M’sorry, m’sorry. I saw a coffee van on the way and I couldn’t help myself.”

“Did you get one for you?”

“No, but I did have a little sip of yours.” He confesses with a quiet laugh. But he quickly busies himself with your room, padding around and peeking out the balcony window.

You take a sip, watching him examine your space. Grateful you cleaned it.

He asks you a few questions about random things in your room, and you settle yourself on the foot of your bed, cross-legged.

You didn’t really think about the lack of seating in your one man room. But this hardly bothers Harry, since he’s scoped up the room service menu from wherever he found it, and sat next to you.

“Alright… what d’we have.” He talks to himself, opening up the menu and scanning over the foods.

You discuss the options, settling on a pizza and pasta to share, because, well, you’re in Italy.

The night progresses easily as time always seems to do when you’re together, and you fake fight over the best kind of pasta sauce. But he lets you have to last slice of pizza so peace is made shortly after.

“Should we order a wine or something? T’wash the pasta down.” He suggests as the sun begins setting.

“Why not, I won’t say no to some wine.”

That gets ordered to your door, and you go from the foot of the bed to lazing at the head of it. Sipping on wine and recounting old stories, or discussing stupid topics.

“Do you think the chicken or the egg came first?” You swirl your glass around, eyes shifting to look at his side profile as he gazes at your roof.

His cute nose outlined by the warm light off the lamp, which you flicked on in the corner after it got dark.

He bursts out into a laugh, “what kind of question is that?”

“I feel like it indicates the sort of person someone is.” You shrug, smiling.

“What like it gives you an intel on my personality?”

“Something like that.” You nod, “and decides if we have to stop being friends, if you answer the wrong one.”

He grins, “Well, maybe tell me which one to pick so we don’t have to do that.”

“Awh, so you don’t want to stop being friends?” You coo, still staring at him, watching as his eyes flick from the roof over to you.

“Of course not, who else am I meant to go on cafe dates with.” He laughs.

You’re both teetering on the edge of being tipsy, and it’s evident in the way you’re both talking to one another. Borderline flirting, probably a more fitting way to describe it.

“True, because I’d be very hard to replace.” You snort with sarcasm, taking the another sip of wine.

“You would be! I love our little dates.” He smiles, the second time he’s dropped the word date in the last minute.

You’ve scooted closer to one another somehow. Shoulder to shoulder as you steal glances of his beautiful face. Maybe this was subconscious, or on purpose. But you’re drawn to him like a magnet.

“So do I…” You flush.

“I’m a little tipsy.” You clarify, breaking the searing eye contact and looking at the near-empty glass in your hand. A fourth refill would easily tip you over the edge.

He lets out a quiet laugh, “Wine gone to y’head too?”

“Mhm, and I have a track record of poor decision making when I have too much of it.” You recall the plenty of times you did the stupidest shit just because you were wine drunk. Hoping that does not happen tonight.

“Might have to see it one day.”

“One day…” you agree, but you realise that you’re not really in Italy for much longer. You have about a week and a half left now.

“I… Harry,” you turn your body to face him, and he sits up a little, noticing the almost serious tone to your voice.

“I’m leaving soon.” You blurt it out, because it’s the only topic of conversation you’ve both been steering clear of. The thing neither of you want to address because eventually this won’t be easy to do. Who knows how many miles could get out between you.

And it almost hurts you to admit yourself because… where exactly does that leave you both?

Does your contact end when you leave Italy? Do you become people who occasionally text on a bi-monthly basis?

He draws a breath, “So am I.”

You let out your own tortured sigh, turning to pop your glass on the beside table and then lean your head onto his shoulder.

Your heart jumps at the contact, and somewhere in your brain, sober Y/N lets out a gasp, because she would never have the balls to do that.

So the wine maybe was a great idea…?

He wraps an arm around your back, “I go back to London after this.”

“Second week of August as well?” You pray it’s not earlier than the start of the month, since tomorrow is literally the 1st.

“Yea, the 13th.” He nods and it’s the only tiny shred of relief you’re getting from all this. That there’s still time left.

“I fly out on the 12th.” You say quietly.

But there’s a small silence that consumes you both for the first time since you met. Because you’re kind of exasperated for options right now. What do you say to someone who is going to inevitably slip from your grip.

You shake your head at nothing in particular, moving to wrap your arms around his shoulders, since words really weren’t going to cut it.

Somewhere in his muddled brain he notes this is the second time you’ve ever initiated a hug. And he leans into it, the arm he had around your back tugging you infinitely closer.

Your cheek is pressed to his neck, and you swear you feel his lips ghosting over the top of your head.

Slowly, you pull back. And he watches you with sharp green eyes. You hold that gaze, until he’s the one that breaks it. Stifling a groan with his hand, covering his face.

You look at him quizzically.

“I like this more than I probably should.” He gestures now between the two of you.

You chuckle, a tiny flutter in your stomach announcing it’s presence.

“So we’re making the most of the time left in Italy, then?” You put forward, ready to nearly wipe your schedule clean for the man.

Which, who could blame you?

“What are y’doing tomorrow?”

“Nothing, if you’re the one asking.” You laugh, and he smiles wide at your comment.

“Oh, is that so darling?”

You roll your eyes in attempt to be convincing, “of course, you always buy me tea so…”

“Well, that decides we’re going to another cafe I suppose.” His hand reaches for his phone strewn on the quilt somewhere, pulling up google maps to find some nearby cafes.

You perch your head back onto his shoulder to watch him scroll through the options. He stumbles on a beautiful looking one, less than a 10 minute walk away. He looks to see if you approve.

He peers down to where you rest on his frame, smiling unwillingly at the sight of you. Your own eyes trailing up to meet his.

And he swears they linger on his lips. Just for a fraction of a second.

“Mh, what d’ya think.” He gets out, voice suddenly several octaves lower. Almost gravelly.

You almost audibly gulp at the sound of him. Hyperaware of his existence right now, you could nearly zone out thinking about the strength of his arm muscle that’s right now pressed against you.

“Yea… yea that looks amazing. And tomorrow, what time?” Your hands fiddle with themselves in your lap.

“How about 1, since you’re probably gonna wanna sleep in a bit.” He suggests, free hand pushing his curls from his eyes.

The way he knows you’re probably going to want to sleep in. God.

“I’m down.” (Bad)

A smile erupts over your face, and you almost forget that the clock is still ticking. That you only have so long left here.

Which ‘almost forgetting’ isn’t enough to stifle the urge to use it as some kind of yolo shit. Because that is unbelievably strong. Like why not just invite him to stay the night?

Maybe another glass of wine and you can gaslight yourself into cuddling him and just falling asleep. He wouldnt leave unless he had to, so it’s an almost flawless plan.

———

The plan infact, was flawless.

To say the least, he slept at yours. In your bed.

I mean you don’t really remember it, since you talked into the early hours of the morning and drank some more alcohol to really top it all off.

You woke up under the covers, still clutching onto Harrys side.

He was already awake, scrolling on his phone, seemingly unbothered by the fact your head had taken residency on his chest.

You take the initiative to glance at the time in the upper-right corner of his phone, a little shocked when it reads 11:47am.

You do groan at the morning light streaming in the windows immediately after seeing the time though.

“G’morning. D’ya have a headache?” He asks with what you can only assume is the end of his morning voice. Which although just a taste, is enough to send you spiralling.

It’s also around now you realise he’s stripped down into boxers— still clad in his white shirt. What the fuck!

You struggle to form a coherent response.

“Morning. A little.” Your voice comes out as a hum.

Somehow, considering you’re cuddling him right now and you literally just slept in the same bed all night, both of you outwardly are quite relaxed about it.

Nothing is awkward. It feels lovely.

“I want a croissant so bad.” You huff, sitting up, stomach growling like as if you hadn’t eaten in a whole 24 hours.

“So, you’re the kind of person that’s hungry immediately after they wake up?” He laughs, hand coming to push the locks of your bed hair out of your face.

Outside of the sheer domesticity of that (which makes you literally have heart palpitations), your hair is a proper train wreck.

The humidity in Italy has made it horrific.

“I guess I am right now?” You reply to his previous ask, combing your fingers through the locks.

“Jesus Christ.” You curse at its uncooperativeness.

“Y’know that episode of friends where Monica complains about how the humidity fucks her hair, she was so right.”

“I love friends.” He immediately gasps, nearly jolting upright in excitement.

You laugh at his enthusiastic reaction, noting that you have to somehow find time over the next week to watch an episode or two with him.

“And if it’s any consolation, I think your hair looks great.”

“Yea well, it’s not like you’d really be able to relate to the frizzy hair. Since yours look so perfect all the time.” You joke.

This evokes a genuine flush on his face, “Alright, Y/N, calm it down.”

He’s laughing but you swear he actually looks a little flustered. Without the wine as a confidence booster, he seemed like suddenly he didn’t know how to take a compliment.

Unbelievable to you since he probably gets that many a day from strangers on the street.

“I, am going to get up and get ready then, so we can go out and eat.” You state, excited to be seemingly spending the majority of the day with him.

He holds back the urge to beg you to stay in bed with him, and says something nonchalant as if he doesn’t mind you getting up. But when you pad off to the bathroom he stares at your now empty space. And immediately shivers at the lack of your body warmth, despite the already warm humid weather.

After a few trips in and out of the bathroom you come out looking beautiful. And he has to get himself up and ready to go in attempt to not overthink it.

You craved his closeness the whole time it took you to prepare for the day. Every few minutes you’d get this almost overpowering urge to just go out there and throw yourself back into his arms.

It’s borderline pathetic. But now you’ve had him in your bed, his strong arms coddled around you, it’s very hard to not to be just that. His physical presence is perfect and comforting. You’re attached to that as much as any other aspect of him.

He puts on his pants, which were folded neatly on his own bedside table, plucking out the car keys in his pocket, “Im gonna nick down to my rental car, because I have an extra button up in there, so I’ll wear that out.”

He comes back and changes into said white button up, stripping his worn shirt off and leaving it somewhere.

Just like that, you’re ready to go, and you both decide to walk the short way there. It was too nice a morning to not.

The whole walk you’re chatting away as usual. But it’s paired with this newfound physical aspect. The way you so obviously want to be close it hurts.

Yet somehow you both act like it’s nothing. That the brushes of hands and shoulder as you’re in step beside each other is a simple coincidence.

And that when you get breakfast, the two croissants and shared cookie is just a friendly thing. In your head you’re even playing off the touching all throughout breakfast.

Which sounds dirty— but just the little conversational touches. Like a hand reaching out to touch a forearm in laughter, acting as if it adds something important to the moment being shared.

Or that somehow when you leave the cafe, with two takeaway cups of tea, the hands that end up interlinked softly between the two of you is just…

Well… who even knows anymore?

Because you’re walking through italy beside Harry— who is talking about his favourite kind of playground equipment, regardless of if he’s a near thirty year old man— all while holding your hand.

And to take a moment, because it’s important, his hands are everything they’re talked up to be. Littered with chunky rings and calloused fingertips from the years of guitar playing. Yet contrasted by his soft palms, which cups yours with this delicateness it almost brings a tear to your eye.

You also pray that your own hand isn’t sweating profusely in his grasp, because you wouldn’t put a clammy hand past yourself. The already humid weather paired with your anxiety surrounding this whole situation is quite literally the match made in hell.

Nothing about this can be passed off as casual to your brain anymore. You’re literally about to implode.

But you strive to hide it. So you solider on.

“I’m a seesaw girl okay. Hear me out—“

“No, I can totally see that!” He interjects, and you chuckle at his quick agreement to your statement.

“Right? They are so much fun. And even though I nearly took a tooth out playing on one when I was 7, I can still recognise they are superior.”

To that he laughs and bumps his shoulder into yours, “I mean I love that. I’m probably a swing person, I feel like no matter the age I will always be down for it.”

You can agree that a swing is a solid second favourite for you. And as you talk about that point with him, you don’t realise you’ve walked the whole ‘scenic’ route back to your hotel until you turn the corner and the entrance is around the corner ahead. And the way you went usually takes an extra 20 minutes.

It went so fast.

“Are you gonna head off or… come back up with me?” You ask gingerly, the hand not interlaced with his fiddling with the fabric of your clothing.

“Not sick of m’yet?”

“Never…” You shake your head, smiling as he gleams at your answer.

“M’flattered. The feelings mutual love,” he chuckles, “However I do have to go remind my family I’m alive. But it’ll only take about a day until they’re pleased for me to ditch them.”

Gently runs his thumb over your knuckles, whether it be subconsciously or not, “So tomorrow night ill come back over to yours for dinner if you y’want?”

You smile, a little sappy over the way he’s working a plan out like you’re both teenagers, “Yea, thats perfect, and we can try something else off the menu.”

“Maybe, if you want,” he begins carefully, “after that you can come over to where we’re staying. Meet my mum and sister. They’ll love you.”

Now you’re nearly bursting at the seems, “Oh, I would love that, H!”

“Okay, it’s a plan then.” He agrees, pulling his keys from his pocket.

You bid your farewells for the night, unlinking hands and being left with a tingling sensation in it, one that you wonder if he’s also getting.

You go to your hotel room and feel full with joy.

He is all too sweet for this world. And you’re a little obsessed.

———

Although Italy being in Italy feels like being in a bubble, and like you’re so far away from the real world, it is unfortunately a purely mental one.

And there’s one thing about a headspace like that, and it’s just how quickly it can be popped.

At midnight that night a notification pops up on your phone, one that when you open, you have to physically put your phone down.

harryflorals:

what do i even caption this post because is that who i think it is or am i officially delusional? “HARRY WITH A FAN FROM THE LAST SHOW, HOLDING HANDS IN ITALY!” correct me if I’m wrong YALL idek anymore.

And this time, there’s no grain saving your ass. Because this was taken on what, quality wise, looks like a digital camera.

Which has made it so painstakingly obvious that it’s you. And you don’t even remember it being taken?

It was when you were walking back from the cafe, holding hands probably talking about fucking seesaws.

And everyone has caught on fast, because in the comments it’s an all out frenzy.

So, cats officially out of the bag.

———

y’all can expect a part four considering i lowkey left this on a cliffhanger 😝 so its on its way my loves

update: next part, PART 4!

taglist:

@harrystylesgirlie @purple9950 @teamspideyman @rociolunaa21 @spiritofbuddha @lemonhrry @deamus-liv @Iquvlly @kuntxrgraudunkelbunt @hsfanficsrecss @hsstylesrings @saturnheartz @victoriasigaard @lilfreakjez @mrsvxder @skxawngs @theekyliepage @hannah9921 @shiffpring @multifandomsw @roslastyles420 @slutforcoffein @kittenhere @stylesfever @butterfly-lover @daniizstyles @padf00ts-l0ver @sunflowervol18

+ all the anons who sent stuff to my submission box, thank you to you guys too, all my love

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles series #fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles writing #harry styles oneshot #hslot #love on tour #i just love finalshowrry #love u too #hopefully part four doesn’t take me also two weeks to write HAHA

532 notes · View notes

milkemie · 3 months ago

Note

you are honestly being so disrespectful towards the japanese culture. you clearly fetishize asians and someone even told you kindly that its not realistic to wear kimonos inside because they are uncomfortable and you just completely IGNORED that person, saying that you dont like to play realistically but thats so disrespectful?? you clearly have no respect for real japanese people and the way that your sim maya, a BLACK woman participates in the japanese culture and pretends to be japanese is SO WEIRD. you clearly have a fetish and need help. also i have seen you talk japanese in twitter and honestly get off google translate, youre being disgusting… and the way in one of your posts shin calls mayumi "mayumi-chan" is weird considering that youre not even japanese and it sounds like fetishizing… you clearly watch too much anime and have no idea what kind of country japan really is so stop acting like you know the culture when in reality youre just a anime obsessed weeb who probably doesnt even shower!

i can & will make my sims wear kimonos at home, i sometimes make them wear formal american clothes at home too. the person who made the comment about the kimono even said they totally understood me, so why don't you? i've also seen plenty of japanese simmers who have sims who wear kimonos all the time, shin & maya wore kimonos at home in one video and you're acting like i insulted the whole japanese population

yes maya is black, that doesn't mean she can't participate in japanese culture, her husband is japanese and they live in mt komorebi so of course she will participate in japanese culture. are you saying that we can only play with asian sims in mt komorebi?? i myself have been to japan before and participated in japanese culture, i even went to a traditional onsen where i had to wear a yukata, so you saying i have no idea what japan is like is a little funny

most of my asian mutuals are japanese and they actively support my content, you are clearly not japanese but for some reason you think you can speak for them as if they can't speak for themselves which is so paternalistic

i don't need google translate to write まゆみちゃん, shin is japanese and he will keep calling his child 'mayumi-chan'; my japanese mutuals call mayumi まゆみちゃん too

5. you're a coward for doing all of this anonymously lmao, for someone who hates me you sure seem to keep a very close watch on all of my content, you're obsessed with me in a very weird way but no matter how hard you try, you will not scare me into stopping sharing shin & maya's story so stay mad i guess? i will not reply to your messages anymore btw, i've given you enough attention

78 notes · View notes

pandorxxx · 2 years ago

Text

Obsession…

Aonung (20) x omatikayan fem reader (19)

Warnings: SMUT THE HOUSE, p in v, bondage, CNC (kinda), squirting, cursing, pinning.

🔞Minors, do not interact🔞

You were obsessed with Aonung from the moment you and your family arrived in the Metkayina clan to seek uturu. How tall he was, his light blue skin, his hair when he let it down, his manly scent. Everything about him sent you over the edge so much so that you would stalk him from the trees, watching him do his daily chores. You would ask about him all the time, and follow him around. You knew his schedule like the back of your hand. Now, were the feelings mutual? Not at all. Actually, they were the polar opposite. Aonung thought you all were freaks. As Time went on, he slowly started to warm up to your family, but he couldn’t stand your obsessive behavior towards him. You thought that if he would just give you a chance, he would see that you weren’t all that bad.

“Hey, do you know where Aonung is?” You asked as you walked up to your siblings sitting on the beach. Neteyam sighs loudly, and kiri rolls her eyes.

“Y/n, he wants nothing to do with you. Don’t you get that?” Kiri spat, making your mouth fly open.

“No need to be RUDE sister!” You snarled, crossing your arms over you chest, shifting your weight to one hip.

“Baby sister.” Neteyam started, standing up to face you. He grabbed your shoulders hesitating to speak.

“I don’t think Aonung likes you the way that you like him. It’s time to give it a rest.” He nodded his head, waiting for you to agree with him. You purse your lips, slapping his hands away.

“Aonung is in love with me, he just doesn’t know it yet! You’ll see!” You shouted with a sadistic grin. Neteyams eyes went wide, before he backed up from you. You huffed before walking off, going to find aonung for yourself.

You walked all across the village, before finally going to his private hut. You smiled when you saw his broad back in the cracks of the door. You bit your lip before opening the door.

“Ohhh Aonung, I-“ you sung before being cut off by his naked body, rutting into another girl. You gasped loudly, making aonung turn around.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING, Y/N??” He shouted, scrambling to cover the girl with blankets, before covering his crotch. You scoff, crossing your arms as tears threatened to fall from your eyes.

“I could ask you the same thing…” You whimpered, shaking your head at him. He looked at you confused, before walking closer.

“What are you talking about??? We aren’t together! I told you that already!” He gestured with one hand, as the other one tried desperately to cover his huge cock.

“Aonung, I just know you’re being stubborn.” You started walking closer to his naked body.

“We belong together..” you smile, caressing his cheek. He smacked your hand away, clenching his jaw. You got a glimpse of the girl on the cot behind him, laughing at you.

“What the fuck are you laughing at, slut! You think you can just fuck my man, and I won’t beat your ass?!” You shout, trying to walk towards her, but you felt a strong arm pick you up, and walk you out of the hut. He placed you outside of the door, as he stood inside.

“You’re fucking crazy! I want nothing to do with you, y/n. NEVER come back here again!” He shouted pointed at you before slamming the door in your face. You felt like you just received a dagger to the heart.

Why was he being so mean? And to his mate of all people?! You hated that he played hard to get, but you’d get him to open up soon, even if it was by force.

You spent the rest of the day devising a plan to get Aonung to confess his true feelings for you.

You remembered tsireya telling you about a plant that makes you sleepy. You thought that you would use that to knock him out just enough for you to tie him up. You were snapped out of your deep thought by lo’ak hitting the back of your head.

“What the fuck, skxawng!!” You shout, rubbing your head. He smirked before sitting directly in-front of you.

“Wake up, bro!” He snarled. You sighed loudly, rolling your eyes at him.

“What do you want, lo’ak?” You say with a sarcastic smile, before leaning back on your hands. He stopped smiling, looking down into his lap.

“I heard what happened today, with Aonung? Why would you do that, y/n?” He looked back up at you, with a concerned glare.

“He was cheating on me! With another girl, duh?” You pout, crossing your arms. Lo’ak face palmed himself before sliding his hand down his face.

“Y/n? You aren’t mated with him, do you know that?” He asked hesitantly, rubbing your thigh to calm you down.

“Yes I ammm!!!” You whine, pushing his hand off of your thigh. He shuts his eyes, sighing again.

“I love you, sister…but you sound delusional.”

The last word echoed in your mind. Delusional? Why was everyone saying that? Telling me that I’m crazy? I’m not crazy! We ARE together!

You snapped your head at him, wide eyed as you tilted your head. Lo’ak gulped loudly, slowly sliding back from you. You got closer to him, poking his chest.

“He’s mine…you’ll see.” You said in a surprising calm tone, before standing to your feet, and walking out of the hut.

On your walk to Aonungs hut, you completely forgot about the plan you made earlier. You were too filled with rage. Why was he making people think that you two weren’t together? Making you look like a fool in-front of everyone?

You got to his hut door, remember his last words to you.

Dont EVER come back here again!

I want nothing to do with you!

It made you angrier, giving you the courage to kick his hut door opened. He shot up from his slumber, rubbing his eyes before realizing that it was you. He growled loudly before jumping off of his cot, walking towards you. He grabbed your neck tightly, pinning you against the wall.

“What the fuck did I tell you earlier, huh? Didn’t I tell you to stay your CRAZY ASS AWAY FROM ME?!” He growled through gritted teeth, glaring down at you. All you could do was smirk. He was choking you out, and you were…..smirking.

“What is wrong with you, y/n? REALLY?” He asked shaking your neck with every word. His eyes widened when he felt the point of a blade threatening to break through his skin. He looked down to see you holding the knife towards his stomach. He looked back up at you, almost frightened by your actions. He knew you were crazy, but not this crazy.

“Y/n, liste-“ you immediately cut him off, holding your finger up to signal for him to shut up.

“No…you listen.” You whispered, backing him up with the knife. He threw his hands up in surrender as he walked backwards.

“I have been called, crazy, DELUSIONAL , and everything else under the FUCKING SUN because of YOU!” You shout through gritted teeth, as you backed him up onto the cot. You grabbed the rope from under his bed, still holding the knife to him. You signaled for him to lay down, before you got on top of him, straddling his lap.

“Why don’t you love me, Aonung? I really thought we had something.” You whine, throwing the rope on his chest. He was panting loudly, watching you wave the knife in his face.

“Y/n…please, im begging you to stop.” He looked up at you, with his hands still up in surrender.

“ANSWER THE FUCKING QUESTION!!! WHY DONT YOU LOVE ME??” You shouted, tears welling in your eyes. His breathing elevated watching you go completely crazy on top of him. He knew that the only way to calm you down, was to tell you what you wanted to hear.

“I d-do! I love you, y/n!” He looked into your desperate eyes. Your heart felt full as you smiled down at him.

“I knew it! Everyone was telling me that you wanted nothing to do with me, but I knew.” You confess, shaking the knife. You leaned down towards his ear, holding the knife to his neck.

“We can finally be together.” You smiled, kissing his ear before sitting back up. You grabbed the rope, hand it to him.

“Tie your arm to the cot.” You commanded, still smiling down at him. His eyes widened at the thought of him being completely at your mercy.

“W-wait I thought w-“ Aonung started with shaky breaths before you cut him off.

“I don’t trust you yet, baby. I don’t want you running away from me.” You pouted, nudging the rope into his hands.

“Tie your arm up, now!” You shouted, shaking the knife at him once more. He growled under you before tying his arm tightly to the cot.

“Good boy..” you say seductively before tying his other arm to the other side of the cot with one hand. You threw the knife to the ground once you knew he was tied tightly.

“What are you going to do, huh? Why are you so fucking obsessed with me?” He grew angrier by your erratic actions. You bend down to his face, kissing the tip of his nose.

“Why wouldn’t I be obsessed? Look at you.” You whisper crashing your lips into his. He was trying to pull away from you, but there was no use. The ropes were too tight, and your hunger for him was too strong. The only way to get you off of him was to get this over with. He kissed you back, lips moving in sync with yours. He slipped his tongue in your mouth, as he groaned loudly. He hated that he was kinda turned on by your advances. You were so aggressive and sure about what you wanted, and apart of him liked that about you.

You bit his lip softly, moaning in his mouth. You felt his huge cock growing under you by the second. You grinned before sitting up on him again.

“Do you want me to stop?” You say innocently, as you started to grind slowly on his cock, tilting your head and smiling. He looked up at you angrily, before his head dipped back in bliss.

“Look at me, baby.” You moaned grinding on his cock harder, filling on yourself in the process. He looked up at you, biting his lip as he watched you rile yourself up off the strength of him.

“FUCK! j-just!” He stuttered, face contorting in pleasure. You smiled down at him, before running your fingertips down his long torso.

“Just what?” You moaned, fiddling with the band of his loincloth. He hesitated to say these next words. He couldn’t believe that you were turning him on like this. He hissed loudly, before looking up at you with desperate eyes.

“Ughh, FUCK ME ALREADY!!!! ISNT THAT WHAT YOU WANT???” He shouted, bucking his hips into yours. You moaned lightly, before repositioning yourself on him. You flip your hair back, looking him in his eyes.

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted…” you said seductively before completely ripping his loincloth off of his hips, revealing his throbbing cock, hitting the top of your stomach. He hissed at the friction before thrusting up against your stomach. You chuckled watching him try to find some kind of relief against you.

“Beg for it.” You commanded, grabbing his cock, jerking him off slowly.

“Fuck! Please! I want you so bad right now! Just give it to me, PLEASE!” He whimpered as he felt your warm hand massaging his throbbing cock.

With those simple words, you untie your loincloth, throwing it to the side. You slowly grind your soaking cunt against his length. He threw his head back at the friction.

“Mmmm yess” You moaned as you felt his shaft rub against your clit with every hip roll towards him.

“RIDE ME, NOW!” Aonung growled through gritted teeth. The anger from him made you so hot, as it always did. You bit your lip before position yourself over him, sliding down slowly.

He let out a loud moan, throwing his head back with closed eyes. Your eyes rolled back as you felt his swollen tip brush against your sweetspot. He started thrusting up into you, making you moan louder than before.

“Yessss Aonung!” You whined, meeting his thrusts. He looked up at you, an absolute mess as you rode him.

“This is what you wanted right? Just a little taste? I’ll let you taste it, baby!” He grunted thrusting into you harder, and faster. Your mouth flew opened as you looked him in his eyes. your moans got stuck in your throat. All you could hear was skin clapping against each other.

“Nothing to say? Say something, y/n!” He shouted, clenching his jaw as he watched you choke to get words out. You finally gasped loudly, crying out loud.

“Yes! yes! yesss!, please don’t stop!” You screamed as you felt him brush against your sweet spot with every thrust. The sweet sounds leaving your lips sent him spiraling. He tugged on the rope, trying his best to get out of it just so he could feel you. He realized that he unintentionally stopped thrusting into you, making you go completely feral. You started bouncing on him with so much force, chasing that orgasm that left when he stopped moving.

“FUCK! Hold on y/n, damn!” He shouted as he felt his high approaching him slowly. It was no use talking to you in this state. You were an absolute mess for him, moaning and screaming on his cock.

“No! I’m so hot for you, aonung!” You whined, head thrown back from the immense amount of pleasure you were feeling. He watched you with lustful eyes, your cries made him more aroused.

“Mmmm Ok! I understand, bu-ughh, but you’ve gotta slow down! I’m about to fucking lose it!” He grunted, feeling his stomach tighten. He turned away from you, trying not to cum inside of you, but you were relentless. There was no point in even trying to reason with you.

“I’m almost there, FUCK!!!” You screamed, shutting your eyes tightly. He felt you clench around him, and he just shook his head in pleasure. You were too much for him, he couldn’t take it.

“Thank fucking god!” He grunted, throwing his head back. The pleasure was becoming way too much for him, as he felt himself starting to twitch. He knew his peek was coming.

“Mhmmm am I better than that other girl from earlier?” You moaned, looking down into his eyes. He looked you up and down, watching you pounce on him like an animal.

“You’re the best I’ve ever fucking had!” He grunted, feeling that knot unravel in his stomach. That was enough to send you over the edge. Your legs started shaking violently, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“I’m cumminggg, Aonung!” You screamed, squirting all over him. Your orgasm was so intense that you fell into his chest, still shaking violently as you whimpered. He thrusted up into you fast and hard. Sending shock waves through your entire body.

“If I would’ve known this pussy was so good, I would’ve claimed you sooner.” He moaned feeling his cock twitch inside you. Those words motivated you to give him the most intense orgasm of his life. You sat up slowly, glaring at him with drunk eyes before bouncing on him again. His eyes widened at your new found energy.

“I’m gonna make you cum so hard.” You said before biting your lip, moaning loudly again.

“Oh shit.” He replied, realizing the beast he just awoken. He was so close, squirming under you from the pleasure.

“Y/N! Im gonna cum, get up!” He shouted, thrusting up to get you off of him. You just shook your head from side to side, watching him grow weaker as his peek was reaching.

“Fuck! Slow down please!!!” He cried as his legs started shaking underneath you. He let out a long, loud moan as he shot his load deep inside of you. His eyes all the way in the back of his head, biting his lip hard.

“Yessss!!!” You moaned, feeling his cock twitch inside of you. He let out a loud breath, calming down from his high. You two lock eyes, staring at each other for a moment before he broke the silence.

“You are crazy as hell, but I kinda like it.” He let out a soft chuckle, making you blush. You bend down to his ear, grabbing his neck lightly.

“I can be crazy for you every night, if you let me…”

I’m ngl, I love the hell out of this story. This is top 3 favorite ones I’ve ever written. This bitch crazy asl tho🤦🏾‍♀️. Anywaysss, hope y’all enjoyed this story, because I sure asl enjoyed writing it. I love yall 🫶🏽🫶🏽!!!

Outtie❤️🖖🏾,

Pandorxx

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familyvideostevie · 1 year ago

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october thirty-first

day thirty-one: steve harrington last halloween didn’t end that well for you and steve. but this year? much better. | a no good at waiting one-shot, fluff, smut, mdni, 18+ | 2.4k detailed content warnings: fem!reader, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie, thigh riding, riding, dirty talk, some aftercare-ish

“We're doing it this year, Steve.”

Your boyfriend looks unamused from behind his aviators. The sun set hours ago but he won't take them off because it “compromises his costume.”

“Jesus,” he mutters. “For real? You actually want to?” You both know Steve isn't great at saying no to you, even when it comes to going on the haunted hay ride at this year's Sara's Farm Halloween Festival. Steve only had to work the first few hours and make sure no one sustained bodily injury during the pumpkin carving contest, so now you're walking around, taking in all the fun.

You're pressed close to him — it's cold, no surprise for Indiana — and wish you had another layer on. Steve convinced you to dress in vaguely Top Gun themed clothes to honor the movie he's been obsessed with since you saw it in theaters. He's in a patched aviator jacket, jeans that hug his ass sinfully, and the stupid glasses. You've tried to look like Tom Cruise's savvy analyst girlfriend by putting on a leather jacket and red lipstick.

“We're grown ups,” you say, bumping his shoulder with yours as you approach the line for the hay ride. “We can handle it.” Robin and Eddie are working the route again and this year you're pretty sure some of the high school kids are, too. They all begged you to get Steve on it and what's love if not taking a chance every now and then to pull a fast one on your partner?

“Speak for yourself,” he mutters but allows you to tug him on to the wagon. He places his hand on your thigh automatically and does his best to look unamused but flinches when the whole thing surges forward and into the dark rows of apple trees. “I can't believe I'm doing this.”

Neither of you handle it well, truth be told. There are only a few other people on the bales in the wagon bed and you and Steve for sure scream the loudest. Your friends catch on to your presence quickly and clearly make it worse for you both, jumping out of the trees and reaching as if you pull you both to the ground. But it's fun. It's fun in the way most things that give you an adrenaline rush are — you scream and laugh in the same breath, pressing closer and closer to Steve until you're practically in his lap as the wagon rounds the final corner.

That's when you feel him hard through his pants.

“Really?” you ask. “Keep your hands to yourself, Harrington.” He scowls and tightens his grip on your hips so you don't fall when the wagon jostles side to side.

“I can't help it, honey.” You wriggle a little more and his fingertips press harder into your skin. “Stay still.”

You do not stay still. It's just too much fun to mess with him like this — something you do often in your new house. Teasing him from room to room and reveling in the thrill that he wants you. Steve always wants you.

The feeling is mutual.

When the ride finally ends you mean to tell Steve that Eddie and Robin are going to meet you so you can all hang out, but you don't get the chance. Your feet barely touch the ground after stepping off the wagon when he grabs your hand and drags you through the crowds.

“Steve,” you say incredulously. “Steve, what are you doing?” You try to keep up with his long strides so he'll hear you.

He doesn't stop until you slip around the apple bobbing and against the wall of the farm store. He crowds you against the wall, suddenly in your space, face close enough that you can count his eyelashes. His pupils are blown and his cheeks are even more flushed than they were on the hay ride.

“If you think I'm going to stand around about to cream my pants, you're insane.”

You swallow and feel his words between your legs. “Oh,” you breathe. “Okay.”

He tugs on your hand again and you're off, snaking behind the store and further into the grounds. It only takes a few more moments before you realize that he's leading you to his old loft. You laugh into the night air and Steve looks back with a boyish grin, the intensity of his gaze somewhat faded back into the comfort and ease of your relationship.

Though he doesn't live here anymore you know that Hopper hasn't gotten around to renting it out yet and Steve still has a key. “Don't trip,” he teases as he tugs you up the spiral stairs. He takes a few seconds to dig out his keys and get the right one in the lock. You want to touch him so badly you entertain jumping him on the landing but he gets the door open quickly and you stumble inside.

“Thank Christ that worked,” he mutters. The loft is empty of the things that make it Steve but the furniture is still there, including a made bed, which feels like a miracle.

“I'd fuck you in the barn,” you say. Steve wiggles his eyebrows and once again crowds you back against the door.

“Oh, yeah?” he mutters. He shoves a thigh between yours and gently tugs your head to the side so he can trail his lips up your neck. You feel his cock, somehow harder than before, and wiggle for friction. “You still know how to surprise me, bee girl.”

“Steve,” you gasp. “Don't tease.” He could quip about your actions on the hay ride, could drag it out and make you a whimpering mess here against the door by barely touching you, but he doesn't. Steve always wants you just as bad as you want him. He presses his lips to yours in a bruising kiss, cradling the back of your head as he presses you into the door.

It is not lost on you, even through your lustful haze, that this time last year you were doing the same thing. A night that changed everything, that almost broke everything had it not worked out in the end. It makes you more desperate, makes you slide your hands under his shirt to feel his skin, makes you grind harder on his thigh and swallow his moans. You almost gave this up. You almost ruined it.

Steve licks into your mouth and your tongues meet, desperate and messy and then he palms your breast, thumb swiping at your nipple and you keen.

“Bed,” you manage to say. “Bed, Steve.”

He sucks a spot on your neck for a moment more before releasing you. His hair is a mess, lips spit-slick and swollen and the way he looks at you makes your knees weak. “Come on,” he says softly. He sheds his costume as he goes, jacket and shirt and sunglasses tossed on the floor. You follow his example as he closes the curtains and shucks off his jeans.

“Are these sheets clean?” you ask, tossing your bra aside. Steve looks his fill and you let him.

“Hope so.” His eyes meet yours and for a second you're sure he's remembering last year, too. How tender it was, how he fucked you sweet and slow, how you left him.

Things get a little desperate after that.

You shed the remainder of your clothes and he sits against the headboard. You admire him like that, cock hard and already leaking, chest rising and falling as he pants though you've barely done more than kiss. You can feel how wet you are, feel the tightness in your belly just by looking at him.

“Baby,” he groans. “C'mere, please.” You crawl up the bed to him and straddle his thigh. He presses his fingers into your skin, eyes wide as you start to grind on him. You move your hips back and forth until you find a rhythm that catches your clit in a way that makes you gasp.

“Oh, god,” Steve moans. “Look at you, huh? Getting my thigh all messy, fuck.” You lean forward so he can press his face to your chest and tongue at your nipples.

Steve keeps up his filthy babble. “Barely touched you and you're so wet,” he says. “Feels good? Getting all worked up?” He pants your name over and over. “Look so pretty like this, baby, riding my thigh.”

“Wanna ride you,” you manage to say. He bounces his leg a bit and you whine. You reach down and fist his cock clumsily.

Instead of replying Steve shifts you over and lines himself up with your entrance. “You gonna be okay?” Your eyes lock. He means with the stretch, with the position. With fucking him bare. You and Steve have been doing that for a while now and you know he loves it, how he can feel every inch of you and fill you up without worry. You like it, too.

“Steve.”

“Okay, okay,” he laughs. You sink down on him and both grown in unison. The stretch comes without any pain, feels like you and Steve were made for each other, as it always does. “Holy shit,” he says, panting into your neck. “Never gonna get over this. How tight you are, how you have a perfect cunt—”

You cut him off by starting to move, a slow circle of your hips that has him choking on his words, his babble dissolving into your name and nothing else. You can feel his mushroom tip brushing the spot inside you that will have this over all too quickly, the vein along the underside of his cock that drags as you start to lift your hips. Steve does his best to help, hands firm on your thighs and meeting your movements with little thrusts of his own as he trails his lips along your chest, your clavicle, your neck.

“So beautiful,” he mutters. “So fucking good, you feel so fucking good —”

The hook in your belly pulls tighter and tighter but it's not where you need it to be. Your thighs are burning and you feel hot all over and you can hear how wet you are, hear the smack of your skin as you ride him. But it's not enough.

“I need — Steve —”

You reach down to give your clit some attention but Steve beats you to it, thumb roughly circling as you both start to move more frantically.

“I'm close,” he hisses. “I'm close, where do you want —”

“Inside,” you gasp. “Inside, please, Steve —”

He makes a noise that has your orgasm teetering on the edge, punched out and desperate. “Fuck, baby,” he says. You cling to him desperately as he shifts you, changes the position so you're on your back, legs around his hips. He fucks you hard, skin smacking, the filthy sound of your slick drowned out only be Steve's litany of your name as the hook pulls tighter and tighter.

“Let me fill you up,” he says. “Look so pretty with me dripping out of you, making a mess —”

You careen over the edge, fisting the sheets with one hand and dragging your nails down Steve's back with the other. Your eyes shut as you writhe, the waves of your climax rolling over you. You spasm around him, clenching over and over and his hips stutter and you feel him come inside you, the hot warmth coating your walls.

Your breath comes back to you as Steve flops down, still inside you, weight heavy on top of your spent body in the way he knows you like. His hand lazily trails up and down your side.

“Fuck,” he says. You laugh. The post-sex sensations set in, the gentle throb of your cunt where he's still inside you, the wetness of your inner thighs and the soreness of your muscles.

He shifts and you feel how full you are. “Made a mess,” you mutter. He presses a kiss to your temple.

“You made a mess,” he counters. “I mean, the thigh stuff?”

“Steve!” You feel shy all of a sudden.

“It was hot.” He squeezes your hip. “Let's get you cleaned up, yeah?”

He pulls out of you and the soreness stings for just a second. You feel him dripping out of you and feel hot all over again. Steve gets off the bed and heads for the bathroom. You watch him walk there, his cock shiny with you as it softens, the muscles of his legs and his back on display in the dim loft. The scars from various farming chores that you've traced hundreds of times, the skin you know every inch of. You love him. He's yours.

Steve returns from the bathroom and you try not to be self conscious about how you sit exposed on the bed. He's carrying a damp cloth.

“Spread 'em,” he says when he reaches the edge of the bed.

“Sexy,” you say, but do as he says. He snorts but gently cleans you, running the cloth along the insides of your thighs and your tender center. It's impossible not to feel a rush of affection for him as he does, this intimate act that is somewhere between sexual and not. You watch him and feel unbelievably precious in his care. He catches your eye and sees the softness, pressing his lips to your naval, your knee, but saying nothing. Sometimes you just don't need words.

“Let me pee,” you tell him when he finishes. When you return he's sprawled on the bed, boxers on. You pull on your t-shirt and nothing else and crawl up next to him, settling into his side. He drags his fingers along your back. You put your palm over his chest to feel his heartbeat.

“Better Halloween than last year,” he says lightly. The memory of that night isn't as heavy in your post-sex bliss, though it's still around. You've talked about it many times since then and it's in the past but being here reminds you a bit of the fear you felt, the frightening weight of the love you have for Steve. How it shifted your entire world.

Though you know Steve isn't serious, you sit up a little to look him in the eyes.

“I'm never leaving you,” you tell him. He looks a little surprised but recovers quickly, reaching up to cup your face and pull you down.

“I know,” he says. He kisses you gently, reverently.

“I love you,” you say against his lips. He laughs.

“I know that, too,” he says. “I love you back, bee girl.”

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here! promptober masterlist, find all fics under #fvspromptober23

#fvspromptober23 #no good at waiting #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n

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linka-from-captain-planet · 2 months ago

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don't have the spare brain cells to actually write for Kinktober this year, but I am a fan of brainstorming elaborate kink scenarios for niche ships, and thus here is my informal offering of

11 Dragon Age F/F Kinktober Rarepair/Crackship Concepts

*not smut writing - just a listing of kinks matched with a ship and a basic scenario

Drugs/high sex, armpit kink - Briala/Celene. Coming in hot with a concept which spake itself to me once the factoid that Celene is apparently a fan of the wyvern drug mentioned in that DA2 DLC entered my psyche and promptly combined with the scene from Portrait Of A Lady On Fire in which that pair of blonde-brunette French lesbians sensually rub drugs into each other's armpits, which rules. Blah blah freedom, flying, seizing liberation where they could find it in this narrow world, impending heterosexual marriage, lesbo-eroticism, etc. Celene is the one more into the armpit part (obviously?), perhaps this is the first time she dares to breach it, and Briala is happily along for the ride. A fun romp as they do deserve a break from the drama and angst sometimes.

All manner of titty play/worship, against a wall/standing, size difference - Neve/Harding. IDGAF what the companion romances turn out to be, their tension is simmering based on the early clips and Harding just so happens to be boob height to Neve. They may never agree on anything except that beating people up is cool, but they can find some common ground when frustration comes to a head and Harding detects Neve's lack of bra and Neve scouts out whether Harding is strong enough to hold her up (she is). If this occurs early enough in Veilguard, then I think Harding would be the bruised-up one, so Neve could look down tenderly and caress her bruised cheek in a moment of sincere connection that she would then reject because she's not open to vulnerability yet and makes it weird (this is also kink).

First time, instruction/talking through it - Bethany/Merrill. Bethany's curiosity about sex with women is frankly cute and hot and I think Merrill would be both an extremely funny and extremely sweet person to share a first time with. Perhaps they're both left out of the Deep Roads expedition and, resenting that the others treat them like kid sisters, they hang out and one thing leads to another. This would also be part of my Merrill Fucks A Relatively Average Amount But Just Doesn't Know Human Social Norms/Slang agenda. Also Merrill's accent is hot and should be recognized for this.

Mutual masturbation, comfort sex - Josephine/Minaeve. This ship lives in my head rent-free for no other reason that Haven is so cold and that little office they shared is so warm, eventually, when they let each other in a little bit. However they don't get very far before the attack on Haven. Rattled, they find each other in Skyhold and find that warmth and comfort in each other again, even if neither of them feels quite ready to touch/be touched by the other. Romantic!

Furs, lingerie/stockings, hand/finger kink - Svarah Sun-Hair/Celene. What if those Avvar furs ARE the shit and Orlesians DO want them? And perhaps there's a demonstration in order? This encounter would in the Frostbacks for a flimsy reason because it would be too cold for Celene's anemic bones. Thus Svarah has no choice but to drape her in sexy furs and perhaps take a tour of her delicates while she's at it (they are beautiful but foolhardy), and her tough calluses would honestly put so many runs in Celene's dainty stockings, but she probably wouldn't mind too much because she's very into hands and Svarah's are so big and strong.

Rough sex, hair-pulling - Briala/Athenril. The main kink here is actually Briala trying to rebound after dumping Celene and finding out what it's like to fuck with someone who's not delusionally obsessed with her. But also I think she deserves the opportunity to get just totally railed by someone who'd be willing to at least slap her ass in public. Hair-pulling is important specifically because Celene loved tenderly stroking her hair. It would be a mixed bag of a semi-transactional situationship with a scumbag kind of like fucking your dealer (this too is kink) but at any rate, she's getting some quality D AND low-cost fenced supplies for her alienage relief project, so it's a win for Briala overall.

Restraints, seduction, flip-flopping power dynamics - Isabela/Cassandra. So what if Seeker Pentaghast caught up with another/different friend of Hawke, who is less cooperative than Varric and thus needed to be cuffed, but that wouldn't stop her from turning that situation around. Isabela won't betray Hawke this time by yapping, but she can deploy her mouth in other ways to distract the Seeker. This is certainly not what Cassandra had in mind, but it's perhaps too appealing of a flimsy porn scenario like in her books for her to resist too much.

Anal play/butt plug, accidental stimulation - Celene/Morrigan. Allegedly butt plugs were touted as a treatment for anxiety/depression in days of yore, and Celene loves woo-woo nonsense, and the civil war/getting dumped is hard on her, and Morrigan probably has an entire grimoire about the magical-medicinal applications of butt stuff. The narrative of this would be that it starts played completely straight (it's not sexual, it's medical care obviously) but it gradually becomes undeniably erotic but neither of them are willing to acknowledge it because Morrigan thinks she's straight and Celene is clinging to a shred of dignity despite the crystal plug in her ass. They leave this encounter feeling weird and unsatisfied, which imo is essential for at least 1 entry in any kinktober collection.

Spanking, "good girl", praise kink - Leliana/Josephine. Leliana NEEDS to be some woman's goodest girl in the world, and in the Inquisition, there's nobody she could trust but her good friend Josie to help fulfill this need. An encounter of vulnerability for them both as this also isn't Josie's comfort zone, but something to learn and explore together. Actually pretty romantic imo.

Period sex - Merrill/Aveline. Take the most and least squeamish women on Hawke's team, shake em up, add in some vague justification like Merrill trying to help Aveline with cramps in accordance with Dalish conventional wisdom (but also Merrill has always wanted to climb that and takes the opportunity).

Sex pollen, grinding/dry humping, not quite hatesex (resentsex?) - Neve/Rana Savas. Back on this ship agenda, the most important question for any ship defined by unresolved sexual tension is, under what circumstance could they have fucked before but STILL have unresolved sexual tension? The answer is obviously that Neve led Rana into some bullshit and they got sex pollen'd. "Fine, but I'm gonna complain about it the whole time" type of encounter where they're so done with each other but they gotta grind it out regardless because the pollen demands body contact even if they keep it above clothes because it's business, not pleasure. But then a hint of caught feelings seeps in after because it's hard to sustain high resentment for a sexy woman once you've smelled her post-sex pheromones and maybe it wouldn't have been so bad if they'd actually touched each other after all. Maybe they scratched that immediate itch but now they're under each other's skin for real... but that's a problem for later.

#I wanted an even 12 but I couldn't think of anything and got bored of this so I'll add more if I think of something else #not tagging shit so read at ur own risk but imo nothing extreme in here (typical or tamer than any other kinktober listing)#also don't want to really tag ships/characters but we got #briala and celene (ofc)#neve and harding (also ofc)#merrill and bethany #josephine and minaeve #svarah and celene #briala and athenril #celene and morrigan #isabela and cassandra #leliana and josephine #merrill and aveline #neve and rana #technically this is fanfic #nsft

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pandorasfavorite · 1 year ago

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hi i have so many dom smut ideas!!

-reader is new social media person & dom constantly flirts with her, maybe inviting her out to a club with a few others & she has to sit on his lap & when he flirts with her he feels her pussy clench on his thigh & he calls her out on it and smut ensues

- mutual masturbation when sharing a room (maybe happens by accident or overheard)

- flirting with reader & getting needy and begging to be touched & she makes him put on a show or guide her hands because she enjoys seeing him pathetically needy

Filthy and teasing

AN: I'm doing all of these BTW. But we are starting with the last one because I crave needy Dominik. I'm trying to work on my characterization for him, so help me out, guys. OMG, he's so sexy when he's sweaty. Also, this is kinda of long and Filthy guys. WHY DO I HATE MY TITLES LOL.

You are obsessed with changing your outfits, almost every time you walk into the ring, you are wearing something new. Its always a variation of dark colors that represents the Judgement Day and it drives Dominik crazy. The way your outfits hugs your curves and shows off every bit of your body is chilling for him.

Seeing you walk into the dressing room in all black, and purple outlining the outfit at the curves of your boobs and ass makes him sallow. The outfit is modest for the most part but it shows just enough skin for the imagination, the top going into a V down your chest. Your legs are out and smooth, but with fishnets going all the way down.

Dominik doesn't even speak when he sees you, Finn was talking to him, but Dominik doesn't even remember the conversation. The only thing on his mind is how good you look, how easy it would be to rip those fishnets off and bend you over the counter.

You walk around the room leaning over counters and trying to find a spot, Dominik gets to see it all. Your ass looks so good in that outfit and all his thoughts are reaching his dick. Your outfit is just so tight and fitting, complimenting every inch of your skin. It feels like hours but you finally turn around and make eye contact with Dominik smiling at him innocently, like you were unaware of the effect you had on him. "Dominik! I'm talking to you", Finn says loudly from the other side of the room trying to break his concentration. "Stop ogling her man", Finn noticed just like everyone else. Damian laughs to himself and Rhea just grins looking off to the side.

"Sorry man", Dominik waves it off, even though he feels the burning in his cheeks from embarrassment. You smile genuinely and strut over to Dominik, you lean down and kiss his cheek, and some of your lipstick stamps onto him. "That's okay Dom. You can ogle me", you say to him not worried about the listening ears. Dominik looks up at you, everything but you is blurred in his vision, he revolves around you and only you. He can barely speak at your loving display, all he knows is that it's making it hard for him to keep it in his pants. You kiss the other side of his cheek quickly before yelling out a quick, "gotta go", not only him but the rest of the group. Everyone throws out 'bye's and 'good luck's and the door clicks shut behind you.

Rhea becomes super confused for a moment and she looks over to Dominik who is still stuck in the same position you left him in. "Aren't you supposed to be ringside?", she mentions. Dominik throws himself off the couch and curses while running, "Shit, I forgot". Damian slaps Finn's chest while joking, "Guess she did too" and he raises his eyebrows suggestively. Finn busts out laughing at some sort of underlying joke, Rhea just rolls her eyes and gets on her phone; enjoying her time to rest.

Dominik was in his own world for a minute there, you're so breathtaking to him that he couldn't find the words to say anything. Now he feels more prepared to speak to you, to get your attention that he aches for. Dominik managed to find you waiting close to the entrance, there were only 2 minutes until you were supposed to walk out. Dominik walks up behind you smacking and grabbing your ass suggestively, "God you look sexy tonight", he says huskily. You turn your head to the side to notice him, "Am I not every night?", you grin knowing his response.

"You know you are. This though, I've never been this hard", he moves to kiss your collarbone, his hair fanning over his face attractively. You feel him brush against you and he reacts strongly, whimpering without meaning too. Falling out of his dominant role accidentally. You spin around and press your front against him, You run your finger down his Adams apple and his chest, all just to grab him by the loops in his pants and giggle at his flushed face. He looks down at you, taking his hand to hold the side of your face and to rub your bottom lip, like he's considering leaning down and taking advantage of the position you're both in.

Your entrance music blasts and you whip around walking out, but with Dominik's hand clasped in yours. Dominik's eyes linger on you for longer than they should, fans will definitely notice the sexual tension between you both if he keeps it up. During your match you show out as much as you can, willing yourself to jump around to get the attention of Dominik; though you don't have to do much.

Dominik is starting to sweat; your beauty and his neediness not being a good mix, and he attempts to control himself. He closes his eyes for a split seconds and reminds himself over and over that he is on public television that he has to wait. Like clockwork Dominik ushers you out of there discreetly, wanting to grab and hold you to him and never let go.

You walk into the dressing room smiling proudly at your win, but Dominik just looks exhausted and ready to go home. Some would think he just ran a marathon but really all he's been doing is thinking about you on your knees bobbing on his cock. You take your time getting things out of your locker, longer than usual to be a tease. Dominik stands extremely close to you, he holds your waist and he lays his forehead on your shoulder. "Can we go now?", he asks squeezing his eyes shut; he's trying to force all of the dirty thoughts out of his mind for just a moment. You shake your head smiling to yourself, "I'm hurrying, just a few minutes". Dominik trails after you, every step you take he does too. Dominik taps his hands on the steering wheel shifting a bunch in his seat, impatiently.

You slide your hand onto his thigh trying to relax him but it just makes things worse. Dominik twitches at the proximity and at this point he's so hard it's starting to hurt, and his pants feel tight. You unlock the door and step into the house, Dominik rushes in after you, pushing you against the wall and sinking to his knees while he kisses down your body. He squeezes your thighs and kisses them erratically. You grab Dominik's hair pulling up a little to get his attention, "Stand up" you tell him without room for argument.

Dominik's eyes glint and his stomach flutters. The pulling on his hair alone makes him feel close to cumming. He raises up his face only a centimeter away from yours, his breathing fanning across your lips. His breath then becomes yours. You peck his lips and say the words that make him whimper in distress, "I'm going to take a shower". He rubs his clothed cock against your thigh and he closes his eyes breathing heavily, "Baby can it wait? Please- can it wait?", his fists clenching at his side. He shakes his head side to side, controlling himself, trying to last for you.

You pull on his hair making him groan and rut his hips more, "No. Go sit down, I'll be out in a minute". Dominik looks at you, trying to break your composure, to change your mind. You raise your eyebrows at him, daring him to argue. He pulls himself away from you, doing one more once over before moving to the couch. Sitting down and manspreading to release some tension. You smile mischievously and sway your hips while you walk, your bottoms ride up some, so more skin is right in front of Dominik taunting him. "Fuck me", he mutters to himself, the words slipping out seeing you walk away.

You take much longer in the shower, teasing him is so fun. While your in the shower you imagine him withering and trying to control himself, willing himself to hold off touching himself till you get back. You have only a towel wrapped around you when you walk out of the bathroom; small droplets of water run down your body from the steam. You step a few feet in front of Dominik and he swallows, "Gonna make me wait?", he says in false confidence. You drop your towel, water from your hair falling and running down your tits and thighs. You walk over and climb onto Dominik sitting your bare pussy onto his leg.

Dominik shudders at the sight of your dripping pussy sitting on his leg, You grind forward against his leg, the sound of wetness making Dominik moan. You kiss down the side of his face then under his ear, "You'll have to wait until I'm done" you whisper to him sweetly. You rock against his leg, your clit brushing against his flexed leg. Dominik's head lolled backward and he tried to compose himself but only pleas fell from his lips, "I need to be in you. Let me feel that tight pussy baby" Your other leg brushes against his cock just a little, "Fuck..fuck". His eyes squeeze shut and he grips the couch, "Mami, I'll do anything'. He feels his eyes well up in desire for you.

You still your movements when the idea comes to mind: Dominik moves his head to look at you. You move the hair out of his face to get a better look at him, "Okay. Show me what you want", Dominik's hands rush to touch your body but you grab his wrists before he can touch you. "No touching-", "Mami~", "Use my hands to show me what you want". Dominik swallows the whines of protests, he knows this is the most he is getting right now. He holds your wrists and puts your hands on your boobs. You moan quietly, starting to grind against him again. Dominik moves a hand down to slide down your stomach lowly and slowly, your pussy clenching at the proximity it brings. Dominik makes eye contact with you as he moves your hand to slip down to your pussy, your own fingertips grazing your clit.

You moan eyes fluttering closed while you play with your clit, Dominik aiding your movements. You twitch on his leg, his leather-like pants helping you glide against his leg easily. Dominik pulls your own hand back to put it on his chest, "Baby" he mutters like it's painful. You start to pull off his shirt, a relief for him, Dominiks positive he's getting what he wants. He lifts his hips up when you start to tug off his pants, his pants sliding off alone was enough friction to make his knuckles turn white from gripping the side of the couch. You sit on his lap now, his cock prodding and aching in need, leaking so much precum you thought he already came.

You kiss Dominik's cheeks and then ask, "What do you want baby?" you whisper in a seductive manner. Dominik's hips thrust up a little while he speaks, "Anything. Ride me, my cock, my face. Just sit on it Mami. Fuck just sit on it", the thought alone provokes his body to shake. You take your finger and run it down his cock and Dominik gasps his whole body shooting back. You wrap your hand around his cock and pumped him twice, your thumb grazing over the tip of his dick.

Dominiks dick twitches and his cum spills out coating your stomach and thighs, it all dripping down your body. Dominiks trying his best not to push you away from him, your warm pussy still laying on him. You notice his struggle and the way he’s pants with his lips are parted; overstimulated. You notice this, it’s so hot the way his body is begging for you, you stroke his cock; lifting a little to rub your wetness on him. “Mami wait. mmm s’too much”, A hand finds your hair for support and his other hand is lying on your bare waist to hold you still.

You ignore him, grabbing him by the base and slipping him into you. You moan at the slight stretch, how his cock fits into you perfectly. You lift up arching your back and you knock Dominik's hand away from your head, you grab his hand and put it onto the other side of your waist. You press your lips to him, your lips moving against each other, both of you trying to control the pace of the kiss. You hum into a kiss grinding back and forth, his dick moving inside of you. There's a fluttering in your chest from the overwhelming feeling of lust and pleasure.

“Taking it so well”, you say; fingers scratch down his back lightly, your pussy clenching on him, the smacks of your skin against his; one of the many things Dominik manages to grasp. His mind is flooded and mushy, he can’t comprehend anything but you and how long he’s been waiting for this, how badly he always wants you. Your thighs burn from riding him, to the point you want to lay down and take it. You slide off of Dominik, pleads tumbling from his lips immediately. “Baby?”, he looks down at himself making it so much more intense, “Don’t leave, let me help please - please”, he turns his body after you.

You lay on your back taking up the rest of the couch, you smile and put your hands above your head sexily, spreading your legs slowly for Dominik to take it in. Dominik licks the bottom of his lip, his eyes not leaving you. Like it’s instinct he grabs your thighs and pulls you flush against him and his cock. He spreads your legs further and he pushes into you cursing lowly.

He thrusts into your dripping hole mercilessly, his hips snapping against your ass. Dominik's hands grip your thighs to where it’s turning red, but his roughness feels so good, the switch in his behavior was sexy to you. Dominik rolls his hips, the tip of his dick hitting that spot inside of you that makes you moan loud and arch off the couch. “Always letting me finish the job and fuck you right, huh mami? Ain’t that right baby?” He grunts out his hair falling over his face some in the most perfect way.

You nod quickly your hands reaching to hold onto his biceps while your tits bounce at the force. He reaches down and plays with your sticky clit from his precum and your own wetness. You feel yourself clench around him and he moans. Your close with the feeling of Dominik inside of you pushing you close to the edge. “So tight -haahh- that’s it mami. Don’t run from it baby, so close”, your moan your vision goes dark for a second and your mouth falls open in a moan. Dominik smacks your ass and thrusts into you quickly, the tip of his dick being squeezed by your clenching pussy. Dominik cums and leans forward towards you, his eyes closing for a moment and his face blissed out. “S’so fucking good,” he says opening his eyes to see the love of his life fucked out with her chest heaving and lips wet with him.

#dominik mysterio smut #dominik mysterio x reader smut #Dominik mysterio x you smut #Dom Smut #dominik mysterio #dominik mysterio x reader #dominik mysterio fanfiction #dominik my bbg #dominik mysterio x you #dom dom #wwe #dominik mysterio fluff

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boxofbonesfic · 2 years ago

Text

Title: 𝙳𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚕𝚐ä𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛 [3]

Pairing: Dark!Ransom x Reader, Lloyd Hansen x Reader

Summary: Your husband’s twin brother has always made you uncomfortable, and after two years of marriage, you finally find out why.

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, Stalking, Kidnapping, Basement-wife, Gaslighting, Manipulation, Breeding kink, Smut, Darkfic, Dead Dove: Do not eat!

Word Count: 6,133

A/N: oof. this one is a long one, but i really hope you all enjoy. no smut, but be assured… it’s on it’s way. 😈

Dinner is privately catered, a stoic chef cooking for the four of you in the big communal kitchen in the largest villa, the one you were staying in with Ransom and Lloyd. You’re practically ravenous, splitting your time between watching him impatiently through the large open archway into the kitchen and staring enviously at Nathalie’s over-full glass of wine.

“Don’s supposed to be getting here tomorrow, he and Kathy are coming with mom and dad,” she says, and Lloyd nods. Your brother had refused Lloyd’s offer of airfare, as had your father. They were both hard-headed and cynical on the best of days, so you assumed it had been because they thought he was trying to buy them off. If he was, it had certainly worked with Nat. Who, despite your mutual dislike of Lloyd, had not been able to stop thanking him. He preened under her praise of course, peacock that he was.

“I can’t wait to meet the in-laws.” He says, hoisting a glass of wine as if in a toast to your absent parents.

“My in-laws,” Ransom reminds him, and Lloyd makes a face you can’t discern beyond vague irritation.

“That’s what I said,” he snaps back, his lip curling.

You roll your eyes at their bickering. “When are your parents getting here again, babe?” You ask, talking over Lloyd’s irritated muttering. Ransom cocks his head.

“Day after tomorrow. But they’re not staying here, you know my mom. Full amenities.” He shrugs dismissively. “Why?”

“Just curious,” you say, eyeing the chef over his shoulder again. It looks like he’s plating up the food, which you’re grateful for, because you’re hungry enough to eat a horse. You don’t exactly hate the idea of the Thrombeys staying somewhere else. The plates come out hot, and you’re grateful to be served first, picking up your fork immediately. The chicken is flavorful and well seasoned, and your eyes roll as you bite in.

“Oh my God,” you say, and Nat releases a similarly pleased groan.

“Right? This is—Christ. Do they rent this place out like, monthly?” She leans over to elbow your brother-in-law. “Because I would definitely move here. Only if the personal chef is included, though.” You eye Nat’s glass of wine jealously as you eat, knowing it would pair perfectly with the chicken. Probably better with her fish, but I can’t eat that. You know you shouldn’t be sullenly coveting your sister’s dietary freedoms, after all, she’s not the one who decided to go ahead and get pregnant.

You wonder what Ransom’s parents will have to say about the baby—you know part of the purpose of this trip is to butter them up to the idea of being grandparents. Linda wasn’t exactly the most… supportive of you and Ransom getting together, her cold acceptance the one constant every time you were forced to interact. Maybe, you think, placing an absent hand on your belly as you push the food around your plate, she’ll finally find something to be happy about.

“Hey, hello,” Nathalie snaps her fingers in front of your face to get your attention. You scowl, slapping her hands away as she laughs. She’s never quite grown out of her irritating younger sibling behavior, and you don’t want to smile at her childish antics, but you can’t help it. “I was thinking maybe we could go into town tomorrow, maybe see the sights, take some pictures—”

“That won’t work,” Lloyd replies before either you or Ransom have time to consider it. “I have work.”

“Work?” Nathalie scoffs. “What work? We’re on vacation,” she says, shaking her head. “And besides, we can just meet you after, can’t we?”

“No.” Lloyd’s voice is oddly strained, like he’s angry at the suggestion even being made. “If we can’t all go, we should stay here.” You frown—you don’t like him snapping at Nat like that, and you make your displeasure known.

“Lloyd this is our trip too. We’re allowed to do things.” He cuts his eyes at you before they soften just a little at the edges.

“The two of you shouldn’t go places alone.” You get the feeling that isn’t really what he wants to say. “The town is nice, but it can get… dicey.” It’s your turn to roll your eyes. “Besides, it’s a family trip—”

“Honestly, Lloyd, if you’re upset at being left out, just say so,” you snap, reaching rather forcefully for your water glass. It takes a moment for you to realize that everyone is staring at you—Lloyd’s eyes angry, Ransom’s amused, and Nathalie’s worried. You’re tired of him nagging you, his secretive smiles, knowing little glances—you’re already sick of it. You know they’ll probably chalk it up to hormones, and you’re willing to let them believe it, ignoring their looks as you focus on your food.

“How about we make plans tomorrow?” Nathalie says, her voice small. You know she’s capitulating to save herself having to sit through the argument she can tell is brewing. And hell, maybe it is hormones, but you’re not going to put up with Lloyd bossing you around all week. You don’t take part in the small talk that creeps up around the table in the wake of your outburst, and you feel a shameful amount of pleasure at having thrown Lloyd for a loop. For once, he’s broody and irritable instead of smug, and you can’t help but revel in it.

Nathalie excuses herself back to her little cabana, and you to the suite you share with Ransom, knowing he’ll be there soon to chastise you. You pop into the shower, standing gratefully underneath the scalding hot spray. It’s the one thing you’ve never really understood, your husband’s staunch defense of his brother. There’s little you know Ransom would deny Lloyd if he asked, and Lloyd never hesitates to take advantage of his brother’s good will.

When you exit the shower, your prediction has officially come to fruition. Ransom is sitting on the bed, his arms crossed as he purses his lips at you.

“Sweetheart, picking fights is not going to make things easier.” You roll your eyes.

“He’s a prick,” you huff. “He’s controlling and rude and smug—”

“And he’s trying to get closer to you—to us. He wants to be a real part of our family,” Ransom says, his eyes dropping pointedly to your belly before he drags them back up to your face. “Why can’t you try and get along with him, too?” You huff as your husband stands and walks over to you. Stubbornly, you don’t return his hug, and he chuckles, pressing a kiss into your hair. When he doesn’t let go, you sigh, wrapping your arms around his broad torso in return. You turn your head, pressing your cheek to his chest. You catch sight of the bracelet on the dresser, and sigh again.

“I am trying to get along with him,” you say petulantly, and Ransom fixes you with a deadpan stare as he leans away. “Fine. I can… I can try harder. For you,” you add the last part pointedly. “I know you guys are close, and I don’t… Ugh. I don’t want to get in the way of that. I just… I didn’t like how he was talking to Nat,” you admit, and Ransom laughs. You do too, even as you slap playfully at his arm in Nathalie’s defense.

“Spoiled rotten, both of them,” Ransom cedes that to you, at least—even if he has to incriminate Nathalie in the process. Which you don’t really mind—it’s not like it isn’t true. “Let’s give him this one day, okay? We’ll all go to the beach after he’s done work.”

“Fine.” You say, shaking your head as you move toward your suitcase. The resort staff had offered to unpack it for you, but you were less than keen at having a stranger go through your things, so you rummage around until you’ve found one of Ransom’s old university t-shirts.

“I don’t even know what work he could be doing here, like five-thousand miles away from his job,” you mutter as you climb into bed. With only a touch of shame, you watch your husband get undressed, leaving a trail of clothes behind him as he goes to shower too.

“Did you take your vitamins, Sweetheart?” Ransom calls from the bathroom, and you curse. You aren’t used to your new regimen of prenatal vitamins and supplements, and you grimace, remembering the size of them.

“No, but I’ll take them tomorrow,” you call, and Ransom pokes his head out of the bathroom, a stern look on his face. “Fine, now,” you climb back out of bed and grab your toiletry bag. You’d been surprised when Ransom had insisted on you seeing the family doctor after your own, and doubly so when he had prescribed you a veritable laundry list of pills. Even now as you line up the bottles on the dresser, you feel intimidated by their sheer number. Vitamins for you, vitamins for the baby, supplements for you, supplements for the baby, something for your blood pressure, for the morning sickness—too many to count.

Ransom gives you a satisfied nod before ducking back into the bathroom. You want to stay awake until he comes out—you’re not finished with this Lloyd conversation, not by a long shot—but your eyelids begin to droop before the water even shuts off. Your awareness is patchy, brief moments of clarity as it becomes harder and harder for you to surface from underneath the pitch black weight of unconsciousness.

You’re alone, and then Ransom is in the bed with you, and then he isn’t, and then his voice, and then—

Nothing.

—

You greet your first morning in the villa groggily. The morning sun streaming in through the gap in the blinds paints a blinding stripe across your face as you squint. There’s a chalk-dust taste on your tongue when you sit up, and you grimace, swallowing dryly. Each of your limbs feels like it weighs easily twice as much as normal as you drag yourself to the bathroom, nausea twisting your stomach into an acid mess. After your—now routine—session of heaving up absolutely nothing, you rinse your mouth out in the sink.

The digital clock on the dresser tells you its half past ten, easily an hour or two after you usually wake up in the morning. The villa is quiet, though, no signs of Ransom—or Lloyd. You chalk it up to luck as you pad down the short set of steps into the empty kitchen. You can hear the ocean if you listen hard, just underneath the sound of the comforting breeze passing through the trees before it flows in through the wide open windows. You open the fridge, and find evidence of breakfast—sliced fruit, cold pancakes.

Ignoring the pancakes, you grab the plate of fruit, pulling off the saran-wrap covering it before popping a date into your mouth.

“Oh, you’re up. How’s your stomach this morning?” You glance briefly around the open door of the fridge at your husband, before closing it.

“Ugh. I puked again this morning,” you say, swallowing at the memory of the acid bile on your tongue. “Not looking forward to nine months of this.” You pop another piece of mango into your mouth.

“Well, you know they say there are good remedies for morning sickness.” There’s a suggestiveness in his voice that makes you laugh, a bashful heat rising in your cheeks. You shake your head, plucking an orange slice from the plate before looking fully up at—

Your chest tightens—this isn’t Ransom at all.

It’s Lloyd.

How he’d managed to sound exactly like Ransom you aren’t sure—their voices are similar, but certainly not identical. You hadn’t even realized at a glance, his telltale mustache missing, as were the thick signet rings on his fingers. The smile on his face remains disgustingly innocent, as if he doesn’t know what he’s done.

“Something wrong?” He asks, parroting Ransom’s drawl with terrifying accuracy.

You swallow, suddenly uncomfortably aware of the fact that the hem of Ransom’s t-shirt skirts the tops of your thighs. And more than that, you are aware of the fact that you are alone.

“I th—” The words stick in your throat. “I thought. Um. You were Ransom.” Your voice is tight, like your white knuckled grip on the fruit plate. Lloyd’s eyebrows rise, and he clucks his tongue, a apologetic little pout forming on his lips.

“I’m sorry, Princess.” You know he isn’t sorry, he isn’t sorry at all. “Even the best get us mixed up from time to time.” He breezes by you, making a show of looking in the fridge. He’s so close to you that you can feel the heat of him, smell his cologne. Your body is tense and frozen as he rummages through the fridge behind you, too close for you to move without touching him.

He’s doing this on purpose.

You know the thought is unreasonable, but you can’t help thinking it anyway. Lloyd hadn’t claimed to be Ransom, not really. It was you who had made the assumption, and to be fair, you hadn’t even voiced it. He just didn’t correct me. As per usual, Lloyd’s proverbial cup fucking runneth over with plausible deniability, and you’re stuck debating whether what you’re feeling is even real at all.

After what feels like an eternity, Lloyd closes the fridge. The few extra inches of space the shut door allows you to slip around to the other side of the kitchen island, keeping your eyes on him the whole time. Lloyd leans forward to pluck handful of grapes off of the tray.

“No need to be so anxious, Princess. It was an honest mistake.” His smile is too amused for the situation, and it unnerves you. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

“There’s nothing to tell.” You say, wishing your words had come out in the slow and measured way you’d meant for them to. Instead, they’re rushed, hard.

Defensive.

“Exactly.” Lloyd pops the last of the grapes into his mouth, and claps his hands together in a manner you know is meant to be agreeable. Try to get along, says the needful Ransom in the back of your mind. For me.

“I’m going to, um. Go and get dressed.” You gesture loosely at yourself. “If you could send Ransom my way, I’d appreciate it.”

“My pleasure.” He purrs. You retreat back to your room, careful not to rush. You feel Lloyd’s eyes on you the whole way, and it isn’t until you’re in the bedroom with the door shut and your weight leaned heavily against it that the feeling dissipates. You’re tying the bandeau on the back of your swimsuit top when Ransom comes in, and for a moment you forget the nagging feeling as he sweeps you into his arms, nuzzling the side of your neck affectionately.

“Sweetheart, I’m glad you’re up.” He smooths greedy hands over your hips before tapping your ass sharply through your linen shorts. “Almost makes me want to take you back to bed.”

You giggle, slapping at his wandering hands.

“I was promised a beach outing,” you reply, reaching around him for the matching blouse. “You can take me to bed after.”

“I’ll remember that,” Ransom replies, pulling his own trunks out of his suitcase. He’s already starting to tan, freckles appearing over the bridge of his nose and the tops of his cheeks. You can’t help but inspect him closely, especially after… you shake your head, adjusting your top in the mirror.

“You’re staring, baby. Do I have something in my teeth?” He asks, cocking his head at you.

“No, no,” you say quickly, shaking your head. There’s nothing to tell. “It’s nothing.”

—

“Baby girl!” Your father sweeps you up into a crushing hug, your mother fluttering around from your left to your right like an excited hummingbird. “You don’t know how happy we are to see you.” He plants an embarrassingly loud kiss on your cheek, and then moves out of the way to allow your mother her turn. Nathalie sucks her teeth from beside you.

“Where’s my warm welcome?” She complains jokingly, crossing her arms. “Am I chopped liver or something over here?” Your mother clucks her tongue at your sister over your shoulder.

“We see you every Sunday for dinner Nathalie,” she says, and over her shoulder you see your father roll his eyes.

“Yeah, and every time you need money.” He gripes, but moves to hug her anyway.

“Now that is a grossly unfair assessment of my character,” Nathalie sniffs, ignoring your father’s outstretched arms in favor of giving him a cold handshake. He laughs, and you wonder if the booming sound of it travels all the way back to the gate from here. Your father has always been a cheerful man, and you see that the long trip hasn’t dulled that disposition. The only thing that seems to be putting a damper on his mood is—

“Sir. I trust your trip was comfortable,” Ransom says, leaning forward to shake your father’s hand. He regards your husband with a cool, muted smile before returning the gesture. You aren’t sure why your father—and your brother, who has disappeared from the back of the shuttle with your sister-in-law—have taken such a dislike to him. It had been tough work convincing him that Ransom wasn’t just some rich weirdo looking for a good time, and to be quite honest, you aren’t sure if he’s entirely convinced, even now.

“It was.”

You could cut the fucking tension with a knife, you think, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of your nose.

“So, um. Are you guys hungry? And where’s Don? He and Kathy have been looking for a bathroom for like, ever,” you mutter, unable to resist trying to diffuse the tension with chatter. If your father was cool on Ransom, you knew he actively disliked Lloyd.

Getting piss-drunk at my wedding didn’t fucking help, you think grimly, looking between your dissatisfied father and your husband. You know Ransom—he isn’t going to bow and scrape for your father’s approval. And, you’d had this argument before.

“We’re going to need help unloading all the bags.” Your mother answers, and you look at her confusedly.

“All the bags? Guys this is like, a four day trip.” A disbelieving little laugh escapes you before you can swallow it. “How much did you pack?” Your inquisition is interrupted by the sight of your brother, Nathalie worming her way in between you to point him out. He and his wife are pushing one of the resort’s little dollies, no doubt with the intent of loading it up with suitcases. You peek around the back of the van, and your mouth drops at the veritable mountain of suitcases.

“Squirt,” your brother greets you, and you scowl at the nickname.

“You have got to stop calling me that. We’re all grown up now, Don,” you say, and he laughs.

“When you’re taller than me, we’ll talk about it.”

Everyone seems overjoyed to see you, and you wonder guiltily if you really have been away so long. Nat is prone to complaining about the distance between you, but you generally chalked that up to her clinginess. And sure, your mother usually found a way to lament seeing you now on holidays and special occasions, but…

“I bet you’re all exhausted,” Lloyd replies, interrupting the chain of your thoughts. “Why don’t we get you guys unpacked—we’ve got reservations in town at nine.” You turn to look at him in confusion. No one had told you about dinner reservations. And by the easy smile on Ransom’s face, he certainly isn’t surprised by the news, and neither is Nathalie.

You seem to be the only person out of the loop.

Ransom squeezes your hand, drawing shapes on the back of it with his thumb as you all make your way into the main villa for coffee and presumably awkward chit-chat. About as soon as you walk inside and kick off your flip-flops, Nathalie drags your mother and Kathy off to take in the amazing view, leaving you alone with the men. They seem about as eager to talk to each other as you are to play mediator, and you leave them in awkward silence to get ready for dinner.

When Ransom edges into the bedroom, you’re already dressed, sweeping your hair up into a messy, loose bun. He hums with approval as he approaches you, smoothing his hands appreciatively over your bare shoulders. His lips follow, and you can’t help but giggle. Your eyes meet his in the mirror, and Ransom’s playful smile turns smarmy as you watch his gaze travel down to your breasts, pushed up by the bra you’re wearing.

“You look good enough to eat.”

“You like it?” You ask, turning to face him, and he chuckles.

“If we hadn’t already made dinner plans…” He trails off, cupping your cheek with one palm. Ransom’s fingers trace down the side of your throat, catching at the delicate silver chain nestled there. The pendant rests just above your breasts, a tear-drop shaped sapphire winking in the light from the vanity. It was Ransom’s first birthday gift to you, the first one of many extravagant displays of affection.

“You should wear your bracelet,” he says, nodding at Lloyd’s gift. You haven’t put it on since he’d given it to you, and you wonder if Ransom’s suggestion is because he’s noticed. “It would match with your necklace.” He picks it up, and begins fastening it around your wrist without your input. You eye yourself skeptically in the mirror when he’s finished, holding up your arm so that you can see the jewelry together. It does match—absurdly well. Even down to the little leaf designs on the prongs holding the stones in place.

Weird.

It does look nice with the flowy, silky taffeta dress you’re wearing to dinner.

“I still can’t believe how much this cost,” you mutter. The stones sparkle in the light as you turn your hand.

“Oh?” Ransom asks, glancing at you in the mirror as he buttons up his shirt. “How much?” You cock your head at him.

“What?”

“How much?” He repeats the question casually, like he doesn’t understand why you’re looking at him like he’s grown another head. “What,” he asks with a little laugh. “Lloyd tell you not to tell me, or something?”

“Fif—It was fifteen-thousand dollars, Ran.” You know you’re staring, but you can’t help it. “You told me.” Like something clicks in his brain, Ransom makes an oh face, and then smacks a hand against his forehead.

“Ugh. Jet-lag,” he says, shaking his head. “I forgot.” He smiles at you warmly in the mirror as he finishes buttoning up his cuffs. You want to chalk it up to his rich upbringing, after all, fifteen-thousand dollars is a paltry sum to someone with Thrombey money. Easy to forget.

Isn’t it?

You and Ransom greet your parents in the living area, and both they and your brother and sister-in-law look much refreshed. Lloyd is there too, Ransom’s spitting image in perfectly reversed colors. You know you shouldn’t feel… a way about him looking at you, about his eyes traveling slowly down the bodice of your dress to where your hands are clasped in front of your belly. His brows rise a fraction at the sight of the bracelet, and the corners of his mouth turn up in a little grin. You’d describe it as almost triumphant—but it’s gone just as quickly as it had come, and you’re left wondering if you’d even seen it at all.

“Are we all here and ready?” Ransom asks, and the quiet murmur in the room ceases. You’re still not quite sure how he does that, how he commands all of the attention in a room with no effort at all.

“No, we’re missing Nathalie—where is that girl? I’m starving,” your mother replies, beginning to dig into her purse for her phone. As she pulls it out, Nathalie rushes through the sliding door to the patio, still tugging on her shoes.

“Sorry, sorry, I was on the phone with Jaiden,” she mutters in apology, rolling her eyes. “He is so clingy.” She smooths her hands over her dress, and then claps them together. “But I am ready to go! Starving.” Your family begins moving outside toward the cars, and Nathalie slides her arm through yours.

“If he’s so clingy, why didn’t he come with?” You ask suspiciously, and she rolls her eyes a second time.

“He… would have. I just, I don’t think, um. Meeting the family is the best idea. We’re not, you know. Serious.” You poke her with one outstretched finger as you walk, and she swats at your hand in protest.

“Does he know that?”

She snorts.

“He should. We don’t do anything but f—study.” She looks quickly in your father’s direction. He’s busy getting into Ransom’s rental, but you know that doesn’t mean he isn’t listening carefully.

The ride to the restaurant is a quiet one. You can’t quiet your thoughts no matter how much you try, and it’s noticeable—your mother tries to fill the gap in the conversation left by your absence, trying in vain to get your father to acknowledge Ransom’s conversation hooks with more than terse one-liners.

Fifteen-thousand dollars. You don’t know why you’re still thinking about it but you are, turning the thought over in your head as if it were a pebble in your shoe.

Fifteen-thousand dollars. You would think it was a sum you wouldn’t soon forget—but Ransom had. It wasn’t just that he had forgotten—when you’d been on the plane, he’d delivered the dollar amount with offhanded familiarity, it just didn’t… it didn’t make sense. Does it have to?

It feels like you’ve only just gotten into the car when you’re piling back out of it again. The restaurant is like something out of a movie, set into the cliffside as the sound of crashing waves echoes up from the rocks below. You lean over the railing, marveling at the sight of the moon’s face reflected in the dark, shifting waters.

“Oh you look so pretty,” Nathalie gushes, reaching for her phone. “Let me take a picture—Ransom get in here, God,” she gestures at your husband. “This is a Kodak moment.” The smell of him is comforting and familiar as he presses close, tucking you into his body as he tilts your head up for a kiss. “Aww, that’s cute. Stay just like that!” He brushes his lips against yours, a soft laugh puffing across your cheeks.

“Bossy, isn’t she?” He asks, and you laugh too.

“I think we’ve had this conversation.”

Ransom wouldn’t lie to me. You’re still thinking about it—fifteen-fucking-thousand dollars—how could you not be? But you want to believe him. After all, what would he have to gain by lying? You lean forward and kiss him fully, and you feel his fingers sink appreciatively into the curves of your hips through the layers of your dress. He wouldn’t.

“Alright, alright lovebirds, I’ve got enough pictures,” Nathalie says. Ransom kisses you one more time—out of spite, you’re sure—before he grabs your hand, and you make your way into the restaurant with your family.

“I had the terrace reserved,” Lloyd says, a haughty sort of pride evident in the words. No one else seems to notice or mind, though. Your mother gasps appropriately at the sight of the candlelit table, and as she and Nathalie titter about how beautiful it is, you swear you see Lloyd’s head inflate two sizes.

“It’s just lovely,” your mother gushes, trailing her fingers along the silky tablecloth. The plates are all ceramic pieces, and you can tell they’re handmade, probably by a local artist. There are seashells set along the table too, in between the place settings and around the glasses.

“It is lovely,” you say, admitting it begrudgingly as Lloyd basks in your praise. “Thank you, Lloyd.”

“Anything for you, Princess.” He purrs. “We’re all family now.” His grin makes something cold settle at the base of your spine, and you watch as he turns to the host. “A bottle of Prosecco for the table, please.” He leans in close, and whispers loudly, “And a bottle of sparkling cider, please.” You wince. Your parents are also still blissfully unaware of your condition, and you certainly don’t want LLoyd tipping them off. You glare at him, but either he doesn’t notice, or he doesn’t care as he gestures at the the table.

“Please, sit, everyone.” Lloyd holds court like Ransom does, and you hate to admit that you find him equally enthralling. He’s just as good at telling stories, at commanding rapt attention, just like your husband. Ransom pulls out a chair for you, and you feel your face heat. He still makes you feel like a giddy newlywed, even though you’re staring down the barrel of two years in just a couple of months. You sit, and Ransom takes up residence at your right. Much to your chagrin, Lloyd sandwiches you in on the other side.

You stop yourself from shooting him a sharp look—there aren’t any assigned seats at this table, and unfortunately for you, it seems like no one else is privy to your discomfort, all seating themselves without issue. You try to ignore him, propping open the menu. There are little English translations underneath the Greek, and you squint, trying to see them in the low light.

“Would you like some help, Princess?” Lloyd asks, and you hate that his voice manages to be silky smooth even through the thickness of his Boston accent. A glance at Ransom tells you he’s trying to engage your brother, and surprisingly doing a fair job of it without your help. Lloyd’s thigh brushes up against your own as he scoots closer, his arm going around the back of your chair while he leans in close.

He smells like Ransom.

The thought is unsettling. They’re probably wearing the same cologne or something, but either way, you don’t like not having an additional physical tell.

“All of the seafood is down here —no fish for you, though, right, Princess?” He hums amusedly. “Red meat here, chicken here, pasta, and salads.”

“Thank you.” You smile curtly at him retreating a few inches to the other side of your seat. To your dismay, he follows. His fingers brush your bare shoulder as he presses in tighter. You know that to anyone looking, it seems like he’s helping you. You aren’t sure why you feel differently, like there’s a different sort of intent simmering underneath his innocent touches.

“Oh, any time.” He lingers for another second or two before settling himself firmly back into his seat. You release a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

Fifteen-thousand dollars. You purse your lips, pushing the thought back out of your head with effort. Ransom’s hand covers yours, and you turn to him gratefully. The conversation around the table falls to a low hum as the waiter approaches. When the orders are all taken, you see a look pass between Ransom and Lloyd, one you don’t understand. A thin tendril of jealousy curls in your gut, even though you don’t want it to. They’re brothers, twins, of course you can’t be privy to every aspect of their relationship.

It doesn’t stop the sting, though.

Ransom stands, clearing his throat as he clasps his hands behind his back.

“I just wanted to thank you, Phil, Bonnie, Don, Kathy, Nathalie, for joining us. Family is… very important to me, to my brother and I,” he gestures at Lloyd. “And I know blending two very different families is difficult, at best.” He looks at your father when he says it, and to your surprise, he nods. Ransom produces a black velvet box from his pocket. You feel your breath catch in your chest as he turns to you.

“When we first started dating, I remember you told me you were looking for something solid. Something forever, and I quote ‘like my parents have.’” Your eye darts quickly over to your parents to gauge their reaction. Your mother’s lips curve up into a soft smile, and even your father looks rather touched. “You told me about how hard things were, when you were younger, the way your parents sacrificed everything to make sure that you could stand here, with me, now, and I thought to myself ‘those people gave me the greatest gift, and they don’t even know it’.” He laughs, shaking his head a little.

Ransom pushes his chair out of the way, and walks around to the other side of the table where your mother is sitting.

“This is for you. It isn’t anything compared to what you’ve given me,” Ransom looks lovingly at you and warm pride fills you at the sight. “But it was the best I could do.” He places the little jewelry box in front of her. “Please, open it.”

“You really didn’t have—” Your mother goes silent, covering her mouth with one hand as she looks at your father. “Phillip, I…”

“How did you get this?” Your father’s voice is tight with emotion as your mother reaches with trembling fingers into the box. Threaded between her fingers is a delicate silver chain, with a heavy looking pendant—a locket, hanging from it. You recognize it, but only because you’ve seen it about a dozen times in all of the family albums.

“We-we sold this.” He lets a disbelieving little laugh as your mother holds it up. “We had to. Two babies, and another on the way—we couldn’t let them cut off the power, or the heat, so…”

“It was my grandmothers,” your mother’s voice is thickly laced with tears as she places it carefully back into the box.

“Well, when she told me that, I thought maybe I could track it down. I had to enlist my brother’s help, of course,” he says, nodding in Lloyd’s direction. “Couldn’t have done it alone.”

Lloyd nods graciously in a way that tells you he’s pleased. “Amazing the things you find when you’ve got high enough clearance.”

He winks. Your mother is openly crying now, dabbing at her eyes with her napkin so as not to muss her makeup too much. To your astonishment, your father’s eyes are wet too. And though he doesn’t shed any tears, you don’t mistake it for anything less than complete astonishment and gratefulness. He stands up and sniffs, his mustache wiggling above his lip as he walks over to your husband and hugs him, clapping him loudly on the back.

“Welcome to the family.” He pats Ransom again between the shoulders with a clap. “Son.”

Fifteen-thousand dollars.

Your father nods at Lloyd before sitting back down, and your mother carefully tucks the jewelry box into her purse.

“Government clearance, huh?” Don says, nodding respectfully at Lloyd. “What’s that like?”

Ransom sits back down beside you, and you turn to him, squeezing his hand as he settles back in. Servers come out with drinks, and suddenly the table seems more lively than it was ten minutes ago, the terrace brighter and more welcoming against the starry night and dark sea. You feel somehow disconnected from it all, though, as though a glass pane stands between you and everyone else as the thought rings again in your unwilling head—fifteen-thousand dollars.

“I can’t believe you found that for my mom,” you say quietly, and Ransom smiles at you, shrugging. “That was like, ten Christmases worth of gifts all in one.”

“Do you think that means I can skip ten Christmases?” He asks, and you laugh, shoving at his arm.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t know if we were going to be able to get it. Plus I didn’t want Nathalie getting it out of you.” You know you should feel happy, this is a big stride, and a happy night. You want to be happy. And most of all, you want to believe. You want to more than anything. Because you already know where you’ll end up if you don’t.

You know where the thin, winding thread of that distrust leads, and you don’t even want to think it. It’s such a silly chain of if, then’s that you don’t want to follow it all the way through to the end, not when you can be happy.

Because if Ransom is lying, then it wasn’t him on the plane at all—

It was Lloyd.

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