#sounds like Uncle Cross to me
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I fucking hate him
A/n: One of the dialogues is lightly taken from "God of Ruin" by Rina Kentaken (plz check it out) Enjoy!!
Word count: 3.5k
Synopsis: You detest Yuji's uncle, Sukuna. His demeanor is rude and abrasive, and he is undoubtedly a sadist. You don't even try to hide your disdain, but the more you try to distance yourself from him, the stronger his opposition grows. Each attempt to push him away only seems to draw him in closer, closer, ever so close.
"You're fucking insufferable," you spat, your eyes narrowing with hatred. "You're pretentious," Sukuna shot back, a smug grin tugging at the corner of his mouth." No, you're a narcissist," you hiss" Yeah, but I turn you on," he purrs
Warning: Hate sex, rough sex, biting, fingering, edging, cowgirl, size kink, breeding, unprotected sex, slight voyeurism, breeding
You remember the day you met Sukuna for the first time like it was yesterday.
It was during the somber occasion of Wasuke Itadori's funeral—Yuji's beloved grandfather. The day was draped in a heavy sorrow; after the ceremony and the lowering of the casket, you followed the Itadori family back to their home. Being practically family yourself, and living just next door, it felt natural to join them and if not grieve, support the grieving family alongside them. While everyone gathered in the garden, sharing hushed memories and quiet support, you slipped inside the house to charge your phone.
As you stepped into the room, the air felt suddenly charged, like the prelude to a storm. There in the living room, was a man, a large man, lounging on one of the sofas dressed in a black suit and tie. The first thing you notice is his striking pink hair contrasting sharply with the dark, intricate tattoos that crawl up his neck and frame his face. His eyes, sharp and unyielding, fix on you the moment you enter, and his smirk is like a crack in a mask of indifference.
"You must be the famous dear friend of the family, Y/n right?" he drawls, his voice as smooth as silk and just as dangerous. "Heard a lot about you. All good things, I promise." His voice drips with sarcasm making you thickly gulp.
You hesitate by the doorway, your initial smile freezing on your lips. This was the Sukuna Ryomen? The man you'd heard only in hushed conversations between Jin and Choso, the man Yuji calls his uncle? You try to muster your composure, crossing the room to stand at a respectable distance.
"I wish I could say the same," you reply, aiming for polite but firm. Your voice wavers just slightly.
Sukuna chuckles, a sound that rumbles deep in his chest. "Oh, come now. No need for such defenses. I'm not the monster they painted in their tales. Or perhaps I am, and that's what intrigues you? What do you think so far" he bends forward. "Am I intriguing?"
You bristle at his words, the arrogance dripping from each syllable like poison. "I-I dont know about that." You curse yourself at the way your voice comes out as a stutter. "I'm here out of respect for your family."
"Respect," he repeats, tasting the word as if it's something exotic. "Funny, I never put much stock in that. The old man sure tried to teach me, shame he is gone. But perhaps you'll teach me its value?"
What the hell does he mean by that?
He stands suddenly, closing the distance between you with a few measured steps. You can’t help but step back, your back hitting the wall. His presence is overwhelming, suffocating.
"Why so tense?" Sukuna teases, leaning close, his breath ghosting over your cheek. "I'm just trying to get to know you better. After all, anyone who loves my family must have some redeeming qualities, hidden though they may be. Although," he tilts his head, as if analyzing you. "I wouldn't be surprised if they just kept you around cause you're a pretty thing to look at."
You feel a flush of anger and embarrassment heating your cheeks. "I think you've gotten to know enough for one day," you snap, ducking under his arm and striding toward the door. His laughter follows you, low and mocking.
"Oh, don't be like that!" he calls out. "We're just getting started!"
It only took a minute. One minute for you to decide that you hated Sukuna with a fucking passion.
Unfortunately, the fact that Sukuna had just gotten out of jail, did nothing to hamper your hatred. It seemed like ever since he got out, he was not only determined to stick to the family, but to you, like glue.
The Friday night dinners with the Itadori family, once cherished and loved, had practically turned into a battleground. What used to be a warm gathering was now filled with endless teasing and arrogant attempts at flirting. You were even hesitant to stay over now, as you were never to sure when you’d turn a corner and there Sukuna would be with some sleazy remark about your pajamas.
You tried talking to the Itadori family about it, tried complaining to Jin and raise your concerns. And as receptive and understanding as they were, you knew that for them, blood was thicker than anything, and in some part, you knew that applied to you too.
Still, you persisted, even now as you sat at another Friday dinner you were determined to just enjoy yourself with the family you loved so much.
Key word, tried.
"Well, Jin, I must say, this food is... quaint.” He says through a chuckle and you have to bite the inside of your cheek from throwing a fork at him right there and then. “Did you burn it on purpose, or was that just a happy accident?"
"Dude," You breathe a sigh of relief when Choso speaks up, his voice calm but firm. "Can you go one day without being a jerk?" His eyes are fixed on Sukuna, echoing the frustration you both share about his behavior. This solidarity is one of the reasons why you feel closest to Choso in the family. His understanding and shared grievances with the insufferable man were one of the reasons why you two were best friends.
"Please, I bet this food beats anything you had in prison." You whisper under your breath, but audibly enough that others catch it when you hear Choso breathe through his nose in a laugh-like snort.
Sukuna sets down his silverware and leans forward with a grin, his eyebrows raised in amusement as he gazes across the table at you. "Oh, someone's got a sharp tongue," he remarks. "Careful, angel, you might cut yourself."
You roll your eyes and sharply cross your arms. "Funny, coming from someone who probably had to beg for scraps behind bars. Do you even know what real food tastes like?"
You don’t miss the way Yuji chokes on his pasta, stifling back laughter making you smile.
Sukuna's lips curve into a sly smirk as he locks eyes with you. "Oh trust me, I've tasted a lot of things. But I guess you wouldn't understand, being so... sheltered."
Unfazed, you shoot back with a dismissive wave of your hand, "Sheltered? Please. At least I don’t need to rely on prison slop to remind me of home."
This time, Sukuna's response is a silent, piercing stare that makes you shift uncomfortably in your seat. Even though you were wearing a sweater and shorts, his gaze made you feel like you were naked.
From the corner, Jin clears his throat, chuckling nervously. "Um, maybe we should all just calm down a bit—"
You cut him off, your voice firm as you defend the meal laid out before you. “No way, not when he disrespects your food, which is great, may I add.”
"Oh, I love it when you get all fired up." Sukuna's eyes glint with mischief as he watches your rising frustration. "It's adorable."
Feeling the heat rush to your cheeks, you stand up abruptly, pushing your chair back with a scrape. "Excuse me, I think I'm full," you declare crisply, gathering your dishes with a clatter and storming off to the kitchen to dump them in the sink. Without a backward glance, you stride toward the living room, your footsteps echoing your irritation.
"Come on, why do you always gotta be such an ass, Uncle?" Yuji mumbles, shooting a glare at Sukuna who only responds with a shrug.
As you sank into the couch cushions, you let out a deep sigh of relief, your body sinking into the familiar comfort of your favorite spot. You turned on the TV, dazedly watching whatever was on, trying to distract yourself from the day's tensions. Of course, thoughts of Sukuna kept creeping into your mind. What was his problem with you? Did the man get dropped on the head as a baby? How and the hell were he and Jin brothers?? Surely he was the result of some fucked up science experiment.
Engulfed in your thoughts, the passage of time slipped unnoticed until a shift in the couch's cushion snapped you back to reality. You turned, and -
Oh what the fuck.
Sukuna settled next to you, leaning on the armrest of the other side of the couch, a tattooed hand settled on his thigh, He had changed into a white tank top and sweatpants, and you feel your heart jump when your eyes unconsciously travel to between his leg where a slight budge pressed against the fabric. Shit. The tips of your ears turned red and you bit the inside of your cheek. That's another thing you loathed about Sukuna; how the scent of his old spice shampoo made you dizzy, how the way he towered over you made your breathing stop, how despite how fucking insufferable he was, he was so so so attractive.
"What the hell are you doing here?" you choked out, your tone edged with disbelief and irritation.
Sukuna raised an eyebrow, unfazed. "What does it look like? Watching TV," he replied coolly, his eyes briefly scanning the screen before settling back on you. "Everyone's gone to sleep, you know."
"No, what are you doing sitting next to me?" you hissed, the proximity suddenly feeling far too close despite the physical distance. Your eyes narrowed, locking onto his vermillion eyes.
"Why you afraid I'll bite?" He says, gnashing his teeth together in a teasing display before moving closer to you. "Don't worry, I only bite when I'm asked."
"S-stop talking to me like that," you say, trying to shuffle back, but find yourself already trapped against the armrest.
"Like what?" Sukuna's voice is teasing, almost playful.
"Like I'm your toy."
He tilts his head slightly and leans forward, a smirk playing at his lips. "More like my doll."
"More like your grim reaper. I'll slice your throat if you touch me," you retort sharply, the tension between you crackling. You watch the way his eyes rake over you like a porn magazine, making you cross your arms as if to shield yourself.
He laughs, a sound rich with amusement. "You're such a menace. I want to gobble you up."
As he inches closer, the scent of his shampoo fills the air—a fragrance so intoxicating you want to bury your nose in it, yet you resist. "I'll give you indigestion, asshole," you snap, trying to maintain your composure.
"Worth it, muse," he counters smoothly, his eyes locking onto yours.
"Sure you're going to be thinking about that when I punch you in the face?"
"Oh, and make me bleed? Blood?" He licks his lips. "Yum." He feigns shock, leaning even closer. "You just keep ticking all my boxes today. Did you do your research on me?"
"Not even if you were the last man alive," you choke out, his proximity overwhelming, his face just inches from yours now. A slight move, and your noses would brush against each other.
"Last man to everyone else? No. To you? Highly likely." His whisper is a taunt, his breath a warm tease against your skin.
That's it.
As you attempt to rise from the couch, Sukuna's large hand swiftly lands on your thigh, pressing just firmly enough to guide you back down onto the cushion. You react instinctively, trying to swat his hand away, but he's quicker; he catches both of your wrists in his grasp, holding them gently yet with an unyielding firmness.
"What the hell are you doing?" you demand, your voice sharp with alarm and a flare of anger, your eyes locked intensely on his, searching for an explanation in his steady gaze.
"Jesus christ Y/n" Sukuna groans, rolling his eyes, "How long are we going to keep this thing of ours going?"
You furrowed your eyebrows. “Our thing? What thing?”
“The thing where we act like we hate each other but actually want to fuck the brains out of each other.” He chuckles.
Your eyes widen and you feel your face grow deathly hot. You try to step back, and get some space, some room to breathe, but the hand on your wrist keeps you from doing so.
“I-fuck you” The words come out of your mouth more soft and meager than you intended to, and you find yourself locked into his blue gaze.
“Believe me, I've thought about it.” His voice is low, and his face isn't painted with a shit-eating grin like it so usually is, he's serious and stern. You stay silent as you watch him examine your face. He leans in, close enough to kiss you, raises his right hand and runs his finger tips down your face.
"Will you bite my tongue if I kiss you?"
"Maybe"
Sukuna's mouth crashes onto yours, hard, angry, and demanding. He doesn't even give you a chance to resist, not even a breath. His lips are fierce against yours, stealing every breath you try to take. Your hands instinctively move to push him away, but instead, you find yourself gripping his shirt, pulling him closer.
You meet his aggression with equal force, your lips moving furiously against his. His hands cup your face roughly, holding you in place as his tongue demands entry. You respond with a whine, opening up to him, your tongues tangling in a heated dance.
Every kiss is a challenge, every touch a dare. You bite his lower lip, drawing a groan from him that vibrates through you. His hands slide down to your waist, pulling you flush against him. The intensity of the moment leaves you breathless, hot, and angry.
Your fingers thread through his hair, tugging sharply as if to remind him you won't be dominated easily. He retaliates by pressing you harder against the cushions, so you have no choice but to melt into him.
In one swift motion, Sukuna pulls back just enough to yank his shirt over his head, revealing muscles lined with black tattoos beneath. Before you can even take a breath, he’s back, his mouth claiming yours with renewed fervor. His hands move to your shirt, fingers pulling at the fabric of your sweater. You break the kiss for a mere second as he tugs your shirt off, then he dives back in, his lips crashing against yours with a hunger that makes your head spin.
His hands roam over your newly exposed skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Your breath hitches as his fingers find the waistband of your pants. He undoes them with a practiced ease, pushing them down and leaving you in just underwear and bra, feeling vulnerable and exposed.
"W-what do you think you're doing?" you stutter, trying to maintain some semblance of control.
"What does it look like I'm doing?" he replies, his voice low and filled with a wicked amusement.
He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "I'm gonna fuck you." His hands slide over your hips, pulling your pants down completely, and you shiver at the sensation of his touch.
You whine when he places his knee between your legs which pushes against your clothed crotch. You involuntarily buck up your hips to try and gain more friction, making Sukuna chuckle; his shit eating grin widening.
“Needy, arent you?”
Your instinct is to tell him to fuck off, but he is already hooking a finger under your pastel pink panties; pulling the material down to reveal your cunt. You mentally curse yourself at the fact that you're already wet, a fact that will sure to swell Sukuna's ego.
Your hands fly down to hide yourself but he swats them away, giving you a glare before sliding a finger up and down your wet slit; collecting the juices before pushing a digit into your tight hole.
"S-shit." your groan, and the moment you clench around him, a sickening grin spreads across his tattooed face.
"Always knew you where gonna feel great around me."
The first curl of his fingers knocks the wind out of you, as it hits the sweet spot inside of you that you could only dream to reach on your own.
“Hah~ I cant-” You whimper, stomach clenching and legs trembling from the pleasure. You want to say you hate this, tell him to get off of you but you can't, you can't even think straight. You even push your hips out, angling them so his digits reach deeper into that sweet spot that sends tendrils of electricity through your body. But before you can fully bask in the pleasure, before you can taste your orgasm on your tongue, he pulls his fingers out.
"You think I'm gonna let you cum so early? After all the shit you have pulled?" His hand flies to your throat wrapping around it with a force that belies the strength behind it. Your breath hitches, a strange mix of fear and exhilaration coursing through your veins. His touch is firm, and commanding, but there’s an undeniable pleasure in the way his fingers tighten slightly, reminding you of the power he holds.
"Nah no way." Sukuna chuckles "Your just gonna have to suck it up."
You try to speak, but his grip tightens just enough to cut off your words, leaving you gasping. The pressure on your throat is intoxicating, a strange pleasure mingling with the discomfort. You can feel your pulse throbbing under his hand. You are so dazed that you don’t even notice he has pulled out his dick until you feel something big pressing against your entrance, making you look down and your eyes widen as you do so.
You’re about to open your mouth to say something, what, you do not know, but all of a sudden Sukuna pushes his dick into you until his hips are flushed against yours. It feels like you're being split in two, and the way his tip smushes against your cervix makes you unable to find your breath. The unfamiliar feeling has you squirming and clenching around his cock; body desperately trying to push out the foreign intrusion.
“Shit you gotta loosen up doll, cant fuck you like this.” There were veins popping on his temple as he started to rub tight circles on your clit. Bolts of pleasure shoot up your body, and you desperately try to relax your body.
“Atta girl” He coos, withdrawing his hips before slamming into your.
The first thrust completely knocks the wind out of you. The collision with your gspot has you arching your back of the couch; eyes screwed shut and letting out a loud moan. He's girth spread you so well, so much, and the friction was so delicious, tears blotted your eyesight. Your skin is buzzing, and your entire lower half is shaking from the pleasure. Sukuna's pace is brutal, unforgiving, and he has to grab the arm rest above you with one arm to help his brutal and unforgiving pace into you.
Your mind grows hazy, lost in the sensation of how good he was fucking you, but then, without explanation, a spark of defiance ignites within you. Suddenly, you find the strength to flip him over, his dick not leaving the warmth of your cunt once and so you were effectively laying on top of him, your legs on either side of his body. With your chest flushed against his, and your ass perked up in the air, you begin to fuck yourself on his dick, raising your hips up and down his length as if he was a dildo.
"Oh thats it." Sukuna is not a whining man but here he is, his voice cracking from the feeling and sight of you riding him. "Fuck yourself on me shit shit shit."
You are practically drooling on his chest, your eyes rolling back from how good he felt against your G spot.
You let a whine when you feel yourself start to get tired so Sukuna grabs your hips and starts fucking you on his length.
Fap.Fap.Fap
"Gonna cum in you baby ok?" He murmurs into your ear and you dazedly nod.
Suddenly you feel your stomach dip and your mind go blank. Your mind feels as though it’s been dipped in pure euphoria, thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind, replaced by an overwhelming wave of bliss that drowns out everything else. Your body responds in kind, muscles tensing and releasing in perfect harmony with the pleasure coursing through you. It’s as if every cell is vibrating with delight, your skin tingling with a heightened sensitivity that makes even the slightest touch feel like a divine caress. The heat of the sensation is intoxicating, making your limbs feel weightless as if you’re floating on a cloud of pure, unadulterated joy.
Sukuna is quick to follow, shooting ropes of thick cum that glide down his shaft onto his balls.
"See? We are practically made for each other."
#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#sukuna smut#sukuna x reader smut#jjk x reader#sukuna x reader
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lust is a loaded hand gun
max verstappen
cw: smut/pwp, ferrari!reader, baby fever, seduction, cowgirl position, alcohol/drinking, breeding, the reader wants to have a baby and chooses to have it with max, max is not aware
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part 2: love is a kick to the stomach
this sounded stupid. but you wanted a baby. and while that was an easy task for most women, you knew that there was something impersonal about picking from a catalogue. reading profiles felt weird, like you were looking for a used car rather than the biological other half of your child. even if you'd raise them without a father, you'd rather have a night of passion than an awkward doctor's visit.
charles leaned back in his seat and asked, "why don't you and i just make one." he shrugged his shoulders. he considered himself close to you. you had been teammates for a little over two seasons and prior to that you knew each other. he didn't mind being the one to help you bring a child into the world, "i can be his uncle and he'd never know."
but, as close as you were to your teammate. you had other drivers in mind.
you made a face, "no offense, charles. but it would feel like doing it with my brother." being teammates meant you two knew too much about one another. you worked well as teammates and rivals because you were more like siblings. while you appreciated the offer, you felt it was weird.
charles asked, relaxed in his seat, "why are you doing this anyway? isn't there a million ways for you to have a child."
you shrugged, "i want to be a mom, i don't know. leave my seat behind to another woman and let her make all the history. i'm honestly tired. i've reached the peak and now." you sighed, "i want something else. i've got enough money to retire and let my future child retire before they're born." you crossed your arms, "i don't want to be doing this shit until i'm forty and just degrade in the skills department. end on a high note." while it was not an insult to other driver's on the grid. you felt bad that they never got to really be parents due to the schedules.
"so you need to seduce a driver to make that happen."
you nodded, out of the corner of your eye you spotted the driver you had your eye on. while you eyed the man crossing your path, your voice got softer, "and i think i know just the driver."
charles looked over to the direction you were looking at. he noticed who was walking by and he looked back to you, shoulders dropped, "max. you're going to seduce and have a child with max?"
you looked back to charles and shrugged, "why not? what's not to like?" max wasn't a perfect man, sometimes you wondered about the mechanics of his brain. but, you knew your child with him would lay waste to the track in the future.
"i can name a few. do you want them alphabetically or severity of it?" charles asked.
you gave him a look, "it wouldn't be hard to get him to sleep with me. you, me and the rest of the garage has seen how he looks at me. i mean who else do i have to choose from? either they're too old, they're rookies, or they have girlfriends. and i'm not getting a heel in the eye because i'm trying to have a baby."
charles rubbed the bridge of his nose, "i think you just like him."
you tensed up for a moment, "no. this is all just simple. scheming... nothing more. i don't expect to trap him with a child. he is free to live his life after i'm done with him."
charles found it hard to believe. not on your end, but max's. he had heard at sickeningly lengths about how max felt for you. it was probably the most eloquent the driver had ever been. if you got pregnant by him, he'd be getting a ring the next day. he sighed once more, "then have fun with the wold champion. i'd say to be safe, but i think being unsafe is the whole point of this."
you gave the once over of max in the near distance and smiled, "don't worry charles, you'll get all the details in the morning." which earned a groan from your teammate.
-
it started over a bottle of wine and ended in the motor home of red bull. you and max had gotten frisky over the evening. you wondered if anyone was selling the photos of you two in the back of the restaurant to tmz or some other trashy outlet. you had shared two bottles of wine over dinner. the benefit of being as wealthy as you were, you could throw the cash onto the table and giggle as you stumble out of your place.
you knew someone had a photo of max kissing you at the table to 'taste' the sauce that came with your meal. as if he couldn't take some from the plate.
but back in the motor home, you had dropped your purse by the door. in the dark of the place, you two were starting to get undressed. heels kicked to the wall, your bracelets set on the coffee table. your dress was on the floor by the bed, your bra over the lamp by the bed and your panties on the bed.
"i'm on top." you said as you kissed max's lips. he tasted like wine and fine dining. he tasted and smelled expensive. in all fairness he could be worth more than a micro nation. he was not an easy man to buy, but the currency of sex was in high demand. max wanted you, and you knew that because he got on his back without much argument.
you were both naked on the bed. the faint lights gleamed through the large windows as you rubbed up against max with no other lighting. you could see his face against the shadows of the night. his blue eyes were like gems and they pulled you in. whoever he ended up with would be very lucky.
but tonight you needed him. he was an important piece in your plan. you rubbed against him and with a little help, you sank down onto his cock. while cowgirl wasn't the best position to try and get pregnant, but it ensured that your plan would work. any position is a working one.
"you're beautiful."
"i know." you said as you rubbed yourself against him. you braced your hands on his strong chest. he was a handsome man, he was good at what he did and he was a winner. you knew anyone would be lucky to have him, but tonight was the perfect partner. you knew a child with him would be perfect.
you continued to rub up against him. the roll of your hips were methodical. this wasn't the first time you slept with a man. you moaned when max groped your breasts, massaged the flesh between those bear paws he called hands. soon you sank on his cock and shuddered, feeling the heat raise in your belly.
this was a mission, no time to get attached. you were both tipsy from the alcohol and the driver under you were more handsy than ever. you try not to feel the emotions that came with it. the feeling of being attached to someone you were having sex with. you batted charles' assumptions about your feelings for max out of your mind as you rode the dutch driver.
you were determined to get pregnant tonight. you measured it all down to a t, all you needed was for max not to get whiskey dick. you curved your back to get closer to him, your lips met his as you moved up and down. his cock was snug in your, but it went in almost perfect. the blunt head hit against the furthest parts of you. your heart hammered in your chest as you moved your hips.
you pushed hair out of your face before your braced your hands on his chest once more. he was very toned, you almost wanted to joke about what happened to his slightly kinder chocolate addiction. but that was neither here nor there.
"you feel so good." he grunted, "why haven't we done this before? fuck." he panted, he could feel the heat in his cheeks as you rode him. he had been with others before but being under you was a pleasure no money could buy. you were really good at it, knowing exactly how to make him feel good.
"good things take time." you panted, part of you wondered what would happen if you covered his mouth. you didn't need the dirty talk, this was a mission. if you wanted a casual friends with benefits, you'd try something online or another in the paddock. fucking max was a certainly that you'd get pregnant. it didn't have to be intimate or soft. it was a means to an end, and you'd get there no matter what.
the sounds of your fucking filled the room as you continued to move against him. you raked your nails down his chest, catching his nipples which made him moan. he was cute on his back, letting you take over. you wondered how deep his affection for you went.
you didn't want the emotional baggage of it all. tonight you were both drunk and having sex in the motor homes. it would be a one night stand before you two finished out the season. you could feel the heat across your back as you stared at him.
his eyes were closed and his mouth slightly open as he panted heavily. there was heat in his face and you felt something tug in your chest. he was beautiful, you hated to admit it. but max verstappen was a pretty boy.
he was already blissed out, his noises forced you by the movement of your hips. you licked your lips and without thinking, you left a mark on his collarbone. it was stupid, but it excited your further.
you continued to move against him. your breasts bounced with each move of your hips. you felt moans in the back of your throat and a hum in your soul. pleasure was close and it wasn't long before you really worked yourself onto his cock and finished.
the tightness around his cock made max's back arch a little bit. he could feel the heat in the back of his head. his heart pounded as he watched you continue to ride his cock. he panted heavily and soon climaxed as well. you made sure to get everything you could out. you kissed him once more before you stopped. when you pulled away you got off of his waist and laid down on the bed.
"wow." he said out of breath.
you didn't want to talk. instead you turned your head to kiss him on the lips to keep him quiet. there was no time for mushy romantic bedroom talk. you needed him to fall asleep before you could leave.
you tried to count down the seconds, placing kisses across his heated face. you reminded yourself that there would be some lucky enough to keep him for life.
when you pulled away from his lips after one last kiss, he curled up beside you and right then fell asleep. you stayed awake, when the heat cooled in your body. you hoped your mission was a success. the lust and the alcohol still made its rounds in your body. but you were lucid enough to find your clothes in the dark and slip out of the motor home before morning.
you'd never bring up the event to max, only briefly mentioning it to charles. you'd drive harder after that, in the end you'd secure a world championship. as you kissed the trophy and your country's national anthem played, you were already pregnant with your child.
-
your retirement was a shock to max. you could've easily decorated your home with many trophies over the next few years. but at the end of the 2024 season, you bowed out. you thanked fans and told them that it was a new chapter in your life. and then like that you fell off the face of the earth over the off-season.
max tried to find ways to contact you. where did you go? what happened? why leave at the height of it all? the more he thought about it, the more questions were raised in his head. he asked around the paddock, even going as far as to ask charles where you went. the other drive shrugged and told him that you moved back to your home country with a "little extra luggage". there were no social media posts. nothing. it nagged in the back of his brain for what felt like a lifetime. what happened to ferrari's princess?
it wasn't until almost three years later, max had claimed another world championship. it felt like these days he was riding high. he was still the best. but as he walked into the paddock to train for the upcoming season, he stopped in his tracks. he felt like he was splashed with cold water.
there you were, three years older with a glow to you. you were laughing with charles and lewis, you looked different but in a good way. you were in overalls and a ferrari shirt underneath. you were more curvy than you were when you were driving. and while you were still beautiful like the sun, pulling max in. what made his stomach drop was who was in your arms.
a young boy, with big curious eyes and round cheeks. he held onto you tightly, his small fists in the fabric of your shirt. he seemed curious about the track, but not scared of how big it all felt. while max would've assumed that you got married and had a child as a lot of people did. but that's not what had happened.
max knew right away at the first glance of your son. looking at him was like looking at max's childhood photos. even in features that matched your own, your son carried a lot of max in him. the itch in his brain after you fell off the earth all those years ago came back, this was where you went. the boy looked like him and if he was right about the boy's age then dates lined up. there was no question. max verstappen was your son's father. and when you noticed him staring. you simply smiled and gave him a wink, shifting the boy in your arms and pointing at the me. when your son smiled, max felt something in his gut. looking at you, holding your (his) son, made max feel like he was home. and all those feelings he had been carrying poured back into his head and heart. the same emotions that allowed you to bed him. <3
sequel: love is a kick to the stomach
#bunny writes#formula one imagine#reader insert#formula 1#formula one smut#formula one fanfiction#f1 smut#formula 1 fic#formula 1 rpf#formula one#f1 rpf#f1#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#max verstappen x you#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen#max verstappen smut#mv33 imagine#mv33 x reader#mv33 smut#mv33#mv1 smut#mv1 x reader#mv1#driver!reader#f1 driver reader
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oooo can you write something where miguel meets yn’s family for the first time and your mom or aunt or some family member pulls you to the side and tells you “that man….is gonna get your pregnant.”
PROMISES IN THE DARK | m. o’hara.
when miguel was about to meet your parents, he was calm, composed as always, his hand resting on the small of your back—a touch that was as protective as it was possessive. his eyes, dark and intense, scanned the room, taking in every minuscule detail, from your baby photos plastered on the wall to the little intricate details of wall trim and tablecloths. there was an air of quiet confidence about him, the kind that made your heart race a little faster as you squeeze his hand tightly.
“ready for this?” you asked, trying to sound casual, but miguel could already sense your anxious aura.
his gaze flicked to you, and he tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable, perhaps usual. “always,” he replied, his voice low and controlled, sending a shiver down your spine. his eyes lingered on yours for a moment longer, his lips curving into a faint smirk. “don’t worry, mi amor. i’ll behave. for now.”
your cheeks flushed at the underlying promise in his words, but before you could respond, your mother appeared, arms open wide in welcome.
the evening unfolded with ease—or so it seemed. miguel was nothing but polite, attentive, and everything your family could have hoped for. but you knew better. beneath his facade of a calm exterior was a storm waiting to be unleashed, a storm adjacent to a tension that crackled between you every time his fingers brushed yours or when his eyes locked onto yours from across the room.
at some point during your little reunion, your aunt pulled you aside, her eyes wide with that all-too-familiar twinkle. she was always so sweet, face as plump as a berry as her reddened lips parted into a smile as she learned to whisper in your ear.
“y’know, y/n, he’s something else,” she murmured, glancing over at your fiancé, who was deep in conversation with your uncle.
“but honey, I gotta tell you—” she leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “that man... he’s gonna get you pregnant.”
you immediately choked on your drink, nearly spilling it in the process. “auntie!”
she just grinned, completely unfazed by your surprise. she tucks a piece of hair behind her ear and leans into you attentively, “darling, i’m completely serious. you see the way he looks at you? it’s like he’s ready to devour you whole! trust me, it’s only a matter of time.”
your face heated up as you quickly excused yourself, from your spot on the couch, feeling flustered and more than a little embarrassed. you walked back to the kitchen where your family was gathered, trying to shake off her words, but they clung to you like a second skin.
miguel’s eyes found yours as you re-entered the room, and his lips curved into that maddeningly subtle smile. he didn’t need to ask what was wrong—he could read you better than anyone else could. the way your eyebrows furrowed and the way your body language began to appear more reserved, he knew something had happened while you two were apart.
you took a deep breath and crossed the room to where he was standing, feeling the pull of his presence strongly.
“what did she say to you?” he asked quietly, his voice so low that only you could hear it. his fingers brushed against your waist, lingering just long enough to make your pulse quicken as you gulped, succumbing to his warm touch.
you bit at your lip, debating whether to tell him, but you knew there was no point in hiding it, so you pushed your nervousness aside and sighed, “she said... that you’re going to get me pregnant.”
miguel’s eyebrows lifted slightly, his expression still stoic, but you caught the flicker of something darker in his eyes. he almost looked like he wanted to laugh. he stepped closer to you, his hand sliding around to rest on the small of your back, pulling you just a fraction closer to him.
“is that so?” he murmured, his voice smooth as silk, but with an edge that made your knees weak.
you swallowed, “i mean…well..she seems pretty convinced.”
miguel’s smirk deepened, his eyes never leaving yours as he sucked his teeth, “she’s a smart woman.”
he, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “and she’s right, doll. it’s only a matter of time.”
your breath hitched as his words sank in, ringing throughout your brain as the heat of his breath sending a shiver down your spine. he pulled back just enough to look at you, his expression calm, controlled, but his eyes were dark with intent, filled with promises you weren’t sure you were ready to unravel in a house full of family.
but there was no mistaking the message he had spoken to you, because when miguel made a promise, he kept it. and judging by the way his hand tightened slightly on your waist, his thumb brushing just below the curve of your ribcage, that promise was as good as kept.
#spiderman across the spiderverse#spiderman: across the spiderverse#miguel o'hara x y/n#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel x reader#miguel spiderman#miguel ohara#miguel o hara#miguel spiderverse#miguel o'hara#atsv miguel#miguel x you#miguel 2099#miguel x y/n#miguel fanfic#miguel o’hara x y/n#miguel o'hara fluff#miguel o'hara x you#miguel o’hara smut#miguel o’hara x you#miguel o’hara fanfiction#miguel o’hara fluff
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The quiet ones
Summary: You surprise the Dagger Squad by revealing your secret to Bob, who shyly but lovingly melts into your kiss as the others watch in shock, as shy guys are your type.
Chapter Warning: Secret relationship reveal, unexpected PDA, and flustered teammates, drinking.
Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x reader
The sun is barely up, casting a soft glow over the empty beach outside The Hard Deck as you pull open the doors and step into the familiar dimness of the bar.
You've been doing this for years—unlocking before the heat of the day sets in, setting up stools, and sliding glasses onto the shelves with the smooth rhythm you've perfected. Today feels the same, but something in the air hints it won't be an ordinary shift. There's a buzz, the sort that comes with Navy missions brewing, whispered over drinks in tones low enough that only bartenders know how to hear.
You're wiping down the bar when the door creaks open. You look up and spot a guy with dark-rimmed glasses, a touch of shyness evident in the way he stands at the door, scanning the place like he’s about to get reprimanded just for being here early. He's tall but sort of unassuming, a guy who'd rather fade into the background. He's a contrast to the pilots who usually come in loud, all bravado and swagger. You recognize him instantly: Bob, the quiet one who stands at the edges of the Dagger Squad.
As he approaches, you give him a slow, easy smile and cross your arms, leaning back. "Hey there. Early start for you guys?"
He swallows hard, adjusting his glasses. “Uh…yeah. Just…getting a round for the squad.” His voice is barely audible, like he’s half-hoping you’ll mishear and let him walk away without much fuss.
Your eyes flick over him, taking in his nervous fidgeting. It’s endearing, really, the way he seems like he'd rather be anywhere but standing across from you. And maybe it’s because he's the polar opposite of the loud types, but you can’t help teasing him a little.
“So…who’s in charge of this little mission?” you ask, setting down a few glasses with a subtle clink.
He hesitates, caught off guard by the question. “Uh…Admiral Simpson.”
You chuckle. “Beau? That's my uncle."
Bob's eyes widen, his mouth hanging open for a moment before he stammers out a response. "Oh. Uh, wow. I… I didn’t know." The faintest blush creeps up his cheeks, and he looks down, almost embarrassed to be caught off guard like that.
You can’t resist needling him just a bit more, leaning in just close enough to watch him fluster. You know the effect you have—the low neckline of your top, the tattoos trailing down your arm, the glint of your piercings just visible through the thin fabric. He’s doing his best not to stare, but his eyes flick down for a split second before he yanks his gaze back up, his face turning redder by the second.
“Don’t worry,” you say with a smirk, letting your fingers trace the rim of a glass, “your secret’s safe with me.”
“Uh…thanks. I just—um, I’ll take…uh, the round,” he manages, his voice catching as you pour the drinks.
You can see his struggle—the way he wants to say something, but every time he opens his mouth, he clams up. He's never met anyone like you before, that’s obvious. The confidence, the tattoos, the piercings peeking through the fabric—it all ties together into something that leaves him completely off balance. And he’s… well, adorable.
As you slide the last glass across the bar to him, you give him a wink. “See you around, Bob. Bring your friends by sometime.”
He mutters a quiet “thank you” and shuffles out, beers in hand and cheeks flushed. And as he heads out the door, you can't help but grin to yourself, wondering if he’ll find the nerve to say more next time.
---
It’s a typical night at The Hard Deck, the bar buzzing with energy, filled with the sounds of laughter, clinking glasses, and rock music blaring from the jukebox. The place is packed with Navy types, just as it always is when there’s no active mission holding them back. You’re behind the bar, quick on your feet, sliding drinks to customers and catching up with the regulars. Then, through the crowd, you spot him.
Hangman strides up to the bar with that cocky swagger he’s famous for. Tall, blond, and all confidence, he’s got a grin that could charm the devil himself. And he knows it. Tonight, he’s dressed in his usual off-duty look—just tight enough T-shirt and a leather jacket slung over his shoulder, looking every bit the guy who doesn’t take “no” for an answer. But that’s the game he plays, and tonight you’re ready for him.
“Evening, sweetheart,” he drawls, leaning across the bar just a little too close. “Thought you’d be closed by now.”
You raise an eyebrow, resting your hands on the bar and meeting his gaze without flinching. “Well, I thought you’d be up in the air by now,” you shoot back, your tone teasing. “Guess we’re both full of surprises.”
He chuckles, clearly delighted by the challenge. “All right, you got me there,” he says, glancing around. “But I’ve got a list for you. The squad’s thirsty tonight.”
“Let’s hear it, then,” you say, pulling out a row of glasses, ready to work but giving him your full attention.
He leans in even closer, his voice dropping to a low, conspiratorial tone. “Well, let’s start with two beers for Phoenix and Bob. Can’t have ‘em dehydrating, right?” There’s a slight pause, and he gives you a smirk, his gaze lingering a bit longer than necessary. “Make sure Bob’s is extra cold—he’s, uh, still cooling off after the last time you talked to him.”
You laugh, shaking your head as you start on the beers. “Don’t tell me he’s still flustered from that., it's been years.”
“Poor guy doesn’t stand a chance with you around, no matter the time,” Hangman says with a wink. “But hey, he’ll survive. Next up, Coyote wants a whiskey—neat. You know how he is. And Rooster…” He pauses, rolling his eyes in that way he does whenever he brings up Rooster. “Rooster’s a beer guy, as usual. But let’s give him the lighter stuff. Don’t want him trying to prove anything tonight.”
You slide the beers across to him, already pouring the whiskey as he keeps going. “And what about you, Hangman?” you ask, tossing him a smirk. “Anything special, or do you just want a mirror to stare into?”
He laughs, clearly enjoying this back-and-forth. “Ouch, darlin’. That one stings.” He places a hand over his heart, feigning offense before letting his gaze flick down to the line of tattoos trailing up your arm, then back to meet your eyes with a mischievous glint. “But as long as you’re the one serving, I’ll take whatever you recommend.”
You pour him a whiskey, sliding it over the bar with a raised brow. “Think you can handle it?”
He picks up the glass, holding it up to you with that easy, confident grin. “Oh, I can handle a lot more than that. But I like a bartender who can keep me on my toes.” He takes a sip, never breaking eye contact, letting the moment hang in the air.
The bar is still loud around you, but there’s a beat where it’s just you and him, his gaze heavy and flirtatious, yours daring him to keep going. He leans in a little closer, his voice a quiet murmur. “You know, we should get a drink somewhere else sometime. Just you and me.”
You lean back, letting a slow smile spread across your face, but truly this guy is not for you. “Oh, is that an invitation?”
“Consider it an open one,” he replies, giving you a wink before stepping back to gather up the drinks. “But hey, don’t take too long thinking it over. I don’t like waiting.”
It’s been a busy night, the bar still packed as the crowd buzzes with the kind of energy that only comes when there’s no telling when the next mission will roll around. You’re behind the bar, catching your breath after that last round, when you catch sight of Rooster winding his way through the crowd, headed straight for you.
He’s wearing his usual laid-back style—well-worn jeans, a vintage band T-shirt, and that aviator jacket slung over his shoulders. He looks like something out of a different time, especially with those sunglasses perched up in his curls, even though it’s night. Rooster always has this quiet, steady confidence, like he knows he doesn’t need to announce himself. And there’s something a little different in his step as he approaches you, maybe a touch of playfulness in the way he’s looking at you, a half-smile already curving on his lips.
“Hey, bartender,” he says, leaning onto the bar with an easy grin. “I’m back for the squad’s refills, but this time I think we’re changing things up.”
“Oh yeah?” You give him an amused look, resting your hands on the bar and leaning in just enough to close the space between you. “Guessing Hangman finally realized he can order something other than whiskey?”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “Well, Hangman’s hard to change. But the rest of us? We’re open to suggestions. Figured you might know what we need better than we do.”
You raise a brow, sensing the tease in his tone. “Oh, so now I’m in charge of drinks? Guess I must be moving up in the world.”
“Better believe it.” He flashes you a quick grin. “But you still gotta keep me entertained while you’re at it.”
You laugh, reaching for a row of glasses. “Let me see… Something tells me you could handle a little extra kick tonight.” You pour a round of tequila for Phoenix and Coyote, grabbing lime wedges and a sprinkle of salt for the rims.
“Tequila for Phoenix and Coyote,” you announce, lining them up. “And… let’s do something different for Bob. A Moscow Mule might be more his speed—something smooth but not too strong, I know he likes it.”
“Perfect,” Rooster nods, his eyes catching on the way your hands move as you pour, clearly fascinated. “And what do you recommend for me?”
“Hmm,” you say, pretending to consider as you tilt your head, catching his gaze. “Something with a bit of bite, I think. Something… classic.”
You reach for the whiskey, but instead of neat, you add a twist of orange, pouring a well-balanced Old Fashioned. You slide it over to him, catching his eye with a smirk. “Think you’re ready for that?”
He picks up the glass, turning it slowly in his hand, that same lazy smile lingering on his face. “Only if you’re ready to join me for one sometime,” he says, his voice low enough to make sure you catch the hint. He takes a sip, and his gaze stays fixed on you, watching your reaction, clearly testing the waters.
You raise an eyebrow, not about to let him off easy. “And what makes you think I’d go for a guy who takes drink recommendations from the bartender?”
He chuckles, not missing a beat. “Because I don’t think you’d waste your time with just any guy.” He holds your gaze, letting the words hang in the air, something challenging in his smile. “You seem a little… particular.”
“And you think you’re up to the standards?” You tilt your head, leaning on the bar just close enough that he has to take in every word.
His eyes flick down to your arm, where your tattoos catch the light, and then back up to meet yours, a flicker of mischief in his gaze. “I think I’d be willing to try,” he says, his voice smooth, steady. “But I’ll leave it up to you if I get the chance.”
You shake your head, suppressing a grin, and reach for another glass, pouring yourself a splash of soda as you lean back. “How about you focus on delivering those drinks first, hotshot?”
Rooster raises his glass in a mock salute, his eyes never leaving yours. “Alright, boss,” he says, clearly amused. “But don’t think I’m letting this go that easily.”
He picks up the tray, balancing it with practiced ease as he throws one last look over his shoulder before heading back to the squad. You’re left behind the bar, catching your breath with a smile as you watch him go, knowing full well he’ll be back for another round—and maybe another shot at breaking through.
-
The Dagger Squad is clustered around a corner table, the drinks you just served scattered across the tabletop. Conversation and laughter flow easily, but the energy shifts the second Hangman and Rooster start eyeing each other, sizing each other up with cocky grins and sidelong glances. Bob, meanwhile, is trying his best to blend into the background, clutching his Moscow Mule and looking more than a little flustered as he watches his teammates' latest standoff unfold.
“You know, Rooster,” Jake drawls, leaning back in his chair and raising his whiskey with an infuriatingly smug smile, “you’re wasting your time here. She’s clearly more into a guy with… confidence.” He emphasizes the last word, smirking as he takes a slow sip, his eyes flicking over to the bar where you’re serving another customer.
Rooster snorts, crossing his arms as he leans forward. “Confidence? Is that what you call whatever it is you do?” He shakes his head, trying to keep his voice casual, but the competitive gleam in his eyes betrays him. “Trust me, Bagman, she’s not going for the guy who struts around like a damn peacock.”
Phoenix snickers, sipping her tequila and watching the scene unfold like it’s her favourite soap opera. “This is priceless,” she mutters to Coyote, who nods, clearly entertained.
“Oh, please,” Jake fires back, unfazed. “You think that ‘slow burn’ routine of yours is going to win her over? Women don’t want to wait around forever. They like a guy who knows what he wants.” He casts another confident glance toward the bar, and Rooster follows his gaze, jaw tightening just slightly.
Bob, meanwhile, is turning a shade of red that nearly matches his squadmate’s call sign. He keeps his eyes firmly on his drink, but Phoenix catches the flush creeping up his neck and nudges him with her elbow.
“Hey, Bob,” she says with a mischievous grin, “you’re awfully quiet over there. What do you think? Who’s got the better shot?”
Bob’s eyes widen as every head at the table turns to look at him. He stammers, his grip tightening on his glass. “I—I don’t know,” he mumbles, his voice barely audible. “I, uh… I think she’d go for someone… respectful. Kind of… uh…”
Rooster grins, reaching over to pat Bob’s shoulder, his tone almost affectionate. “See, Bob gets it. A guy who’s not all in her face about it.”
Jake rolls his eyes, scoffing as he leans back. “Right. Because nothing says ‘charming’ like shyly staring into your drink.”
Bob just blushes harder, sinking a little lower in his seat as Phoenix pats his back in a show of support. “Ignore them, Bob. They’re just scared you’re the dark horse here,” she teases, sending Jake and Bradley a challenging look.
“Oh, is that it?” Hangman laughs, tipping his glass toward Bob in mock salute. “Tell you what, Bob—if she turns me down, I’ll let you take a shot.”
Rooster shakes his head, chuckling. “Sure, Bob. If Jake somehow fails—and trust me, he will—you’ve got my blessing.”
Bob’s face is now a deep shade of crimson, and he lets out a nervous laugh, clearly mortified. But he can’t resist glancing over toward the bar, where you’re moving easily between customers, completely unaware of the mini-drama playing out across the room.
“You know what?” Rooster says, straightening up and giving Jake a look that’s half-challenge, half-smirk. “Why don’t we let her decide who’s worth her time?”
Jake’s eyes narrow, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Fine by me, Rooster. May the best man win.”
Bob practically melts into his seat, but despite his obvious embarrassment, there’s the smallest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he glances at you.
-
You’ve been keeping an eye on the Dagger Squad from behind the bar, and you’ve caught enough of the banter to know they’re up to something. You can feel the weight of their stares now, so you decide to put them out of their misery. With a knowing smile, you grab a couple of fresh napkins and make your way over to the table, letting your gaze linger on one person in particular.
Bob’s leaning on the railing, doing his best to stay out of the spotlight as Jake and Bradley bicker, each too wrapped up in their little rivalry to notice you coming. Only Phoenix catches your approach, her eyes widening in excitement as she realizes what’s about to happen. She’s the only one who knows, after all.
“Hey, Bobby,” you say with a playful lilt, giving him a warm smile. His head snaps up, his cheeks turning an immediate shade of pink.
You can tell he’s trying to play it cool, but there’s a flicker of pure adoration in his eyes as he takes you in. Without a word, he leans in, brushing his lips softly against yours, his hand finding your waist as he pulls you in. His usual shyness fades as he melts into the kiss, his touch growing just a little bolder, like he’s letting himself savour every second.
Around you, the entire squad has gone silent. Rooster, Hangman, and Coyote are all staring, mouths slightly open in complete disbelief. But it’s not the kiss that has them in shock. It’s the glint of your engagement ring—hanging on a delicate chain around your neck, tucked just under the collar of your shirt. The light catches it as you pull back from Bob, and you see the realization dawn on each of their faces.
“Oh, my god,” Phoenix gasps, covering her mouth, trying to stifle her laughter as she watches Jake and Bradley try to process what they’re seeing. “No way. All this time, and she’s been with… Bobby?” Her eyes sparkle with pure delight as she glances back at you, unable to contain her excitement.
Bob, still flushed from the kiss, shifts awkwardly as he catches sight of his teammates’ stunned expressions. He ducks his head, clearly overwhelmed by all the attention, but there’s a shy smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he wraps an arm around your waist, holding you close.
“Wait…you’re with Bob?” Hangman says, still sounding completely baffled. He shakes his head, his usual confidence gone. “And you’re engaged?”
“Guess we kept it under wraps a little too well,” you say with a smirk, running a hand affectionately through Bob’s hair, watching as he blushes even deeper but relaxes into your touch. He looks at you with such genuine, quiet adoration that it’s impossible not to smile.
Rooster, still processing, lets out a low whistle, shaking his head. “Wow. And here I was thinking shy guys didn’t stand a chance.”
Phoenix is practically beside herself with joy, and she can’t help but gloat just a little. “Well, guess what, boys?” You grin, crossing your arms. “Turns out all I wanted was the quiet one.”
#robert floyd x reader#top gun fanfiction#bob floyd x female reader#bob floyd imagine#bob floyd x you#bob floyd x reader#bob top gun
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Sukuna
Warnings: Fluff
Summary: A short car ride feels like an eternity for Sukuna.
Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi
Whoever convinced Sukuna to take his daughter and nephew to the park is going to pay for this. His ears are ringing and he feels a migraine coming up as the six-year-old loudly sings along to the song on the radio, and the one-year-old screams for dear life. He dreamt about this before– More like he’s had nightmares about this before.
You. You’re the one that brought up the idea. If he didn’t love you so much, he’d leave you for even suggesting this.
“Yuji, let’s play a game.” Sukuna says, and Yuji quickly shuts up. He sees through the rear view mirror as Yuji’s eyes light up, waiting to hear about this game. “Whoever can stay silent for the longest will win a dollar.”
“I don’t like that game…” Yuji responds, and Sukuna is praying to whichever deity that will answer, hoping that he can convince Yuji for at least five minutes. They’re almost at their destination, he just needs five minutes of silence before dealing with the kids at the park(though he has another screaming child in the backseat).
“I thought you liked money.” Sukuna points out, and Yuji crosses his arms, all pouty at the suggestion of playing the game. Sukuna shrugs before saying, “You’re just scared ‘cause you’re a loser, huh?”
“I’m not a loser!” Yuji yells, and Sukuna fights back a smirk, knowing that it’s working.
“It sounds like you’re too much a chicken to play.” Sukuna keeps taunting the child. He’ll keep doing it until Yuji agrees, or until they get to their destination. Whichever comes first.
“Okay. I wanna play.” Yuji says, and Sukuna is fighting back a smile. He’s able to turn off the radio, and the only noise that his ears hear is the sound of his child crying. Any other time, that noise alone would drive him insane but right now he finds peace in it.
“Papa.” His daughter is calling out for him, and Sukuna knows that if he answers, he loses. He can ignore the little one, she’s not going to die. He hears the sniffling from his treasure, and she calls out for him again, “Papa!”
“What do you need?” Sukuna ends up answering, losing his own game. She might not die if he doesn’t answer, but he might with the way she cries out to him.
“I win!” Yuji yells, and Sukuna feels his sanity slowly drift away once again. He sees in his peripheral as the little hand stretches out to be on the console, and Sukuna rolls his eyes. “Give me my dollar.”
“Greedy brat. Give your cousin what she needs instead of asking for money.” Sukuna gives his nephew a high five, essentially slapping his hand away. “She’s asking for water, hand it to her.”
“You owe me, old man!” Yuji yells before muttering, “Lying bastard.”
“What the hell did you just call me, Yuji?” Sukuna says through gritted teeth. “If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t be here! Be glad I didn’t eat your stupid old man when I had the chance!”
Yuji sticks his tongue out, blowing a raspberry at his uncle which earns a sigh from Sukuna. A short car ride shouldn’t drain him this much, but after this he needs a week’s worth of sleep.
#ryomen sukuna#sukuna x reader#sukuna#sukuna ryomen#jujutsu kaisen sukuna#jjk sukuna#jujutsu sukuna#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#ryomen sukuna x reader#sukuna x you#sukuna x y/n#sukuna fluff#ryoumen sukuna#jujutsu kaisen#sukuna jujutsu kaisen
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Cat and Mouse
(Perv!Eddie Munson x Perv!Fem Reader)
Summary: Eddie thinks you are innocent and oblivious to all the pervy things he does behind your back, but what he doesn’t know is that you’re fully aware. Not only that, but you like it, and you just might be a bit of a perv yourself. WK: 8k (idk what happened)
Warnings: Where do I even begin? This is filthy guys… Panty stealing, honestly just Eddie and Reader both taking things of each others without asking (and using them to pleasure themselves), Maybe a tiny bit of angst? Idk there’s like a second where they’re both doubting themselves but it’s solved quickly. SMUTTTT!!! Unprotected P in V, Oral (M and F receiving), overstimulation(on R), hair pulling, slightly sub!Eddie? Idk he’s just really down bad(but so is R), dirty talk but like dirty dirty. Idk what to tell y’all they’re pervs, they’re gross, this is feral. If I missed anything pls lmk!! 18+MNDI!!
A/N: Listen… idk what came over me with this one… a horny demon possessed me and wrote this.. It was fueled by my feral period brain and all the perv Eddie fics I’ve seen where Reader is innocent, which is still very hot and I love it but I’m a whore so I wanted to write something where maybe she wasn’t as innocent as Eddie thought. That’s it, that’s all I have to say, pls enjoy the filth. 😌 (also shout out to @take-everything-you-can for mentioning something about taking Eddie’s shirt, I kind of took that idea and ran a mile with it.) My Masterlist
You met Eddie a few months ago, you were working at your uncle’s comic book shop when he came in looking for some dice. He came in a few more times after that, always needing something for his campaign, or looking for a comic for one of his younger friends he told you about. He would always stay and talk to you for a while, telling you things about his life, asking about yours. Eventually he asked you if you wanted to come to one of his shows and the two of you had basically been inseparable since.
You hadn’t known him long but it didn’t take long for you to pick up on a few things. Like how his eyes would always linger on your thighs when you’d cross them on his bed in your little ruffly skirts, or how they looked like they were going to pop out of his head when he noticed you hardly ever wear a bra. You noticed he always talked to you in this way that made you seem so innocent and pure, untouched. You weren’t, but noticed he liked it, so you played into it.
You started to notice things going missing, a pair of underwear that didn’t quite make it in the dirty clothes basket, a tester vile of your perfume you had left over from before you decided it was worth buying the whole bottle, a picture of you from your stack of polaroids that was of you at the beach in your little red bikini.
So you started leaving things. Your dirty underwear on display, always at the very top of your laundry basket. A nearly empty bottle of your favorite lotion sitting next to the trash, ready to be thrown out. A picture of your tits with your forearm just barely covering your nipples at the top of the stack of Polaroids.
Each time they would be gone, and you weren’t sure at this point if he was just playing along or if he was the one that was really that naive.
•
The first time Eddie saw you he was convinced you were an angel. Standing behind the counter at the comic shop downtown in your little white sweater and pink skirt. When he walked up to look at the dice in the glass underneath the register he could see your white thigh high socks. You had this cute ribbon in your hair and when you spoke your voice sounded like sugarcane. You asked him if there where any sets that stood out to him, and then you surprised the hell out of him by asking if they were for D&D. You had never played, but your cousins and your uncle did, so you knew the basics.
He couldn’t stop himself from coming in after that, finding any excuse to make a trip to see his favorite girl. Maybe he would decide he needed a new mini for an NPC or offer to go get a new release of a comic for Dustin while he was at school. He always spent a while standing there talking to you, getting to know you, ogling you because he just couldn’t help himself. How could he? When you would lean over the counter giving him a perfect view of your tits through your thin shirts and hardly ever wore a bra? When you would ask him to hold the ladder steady so you could get something up high and he would get a perfect view up your skirt of whatever panties you wore that day? You were irresistible.
He learned that you weren’t only beautiful but actually really cool. You knew a lot about comics, you had read Tolkien, you loved horror movies possibly more than he did, and you were down to give any music a chance.
You also had this innocence about you, like you almost didn’t realize how much he wanted you. It just made him want you more. You’d look at him with those big round eyes and pouty lips whenever he would tease you about something. When he would compliment you outright you always made this little squeaky noise and he would notice you squirm or press your thighs together.
But once you started hanging out with him outside of work that’s when he really lost control. The first time he was at your house he saw a pair of your panties next to your laundry basket. Clearly dirty by the way he could see your juices left behind on the crotch of them. You were in the bathroom changing and he just couldn’t resist. He picked them up off the ground and held them up to his nose, inhaling your scent. He felt slightly sick but he had already gone this far so he figured he might as well just have a little taste. He licked the patch where your pussy was, and even though they had mostly dried you still tasted divine. His head spun and his cock hardened as he imagined what you would really taste like. He heard the bathroom door across the hall creak open so he quickly shoved the panties into his back pocket and sat down on your bed, one leg bent at the knee crossed over the other to try and hide the very prominent bulge in his pants.
Then there was the time you had to run down to the mailboxes to check your mail, he already had been subtly staring at the small vial of your perfume after you proudly announced to him that you decided it was your signature scent now, showing him the larger bottle. He figured you wouldn’t need the small one anymore, it was almost gone anyways. So he did what he’s been finding himself doing more and more often when he’s in your room, he pocketed it. That night he sprayed it on his pillow, holding it to his face while he had your panties wrapped around his cock. Bucking into his hand with reckless abandon, imaging what yours might feel like instead.
Then there was the day he was at your apartment before you were supposed to meet up with some of his friends for a movie night and you wanted to shower after work. He was bored, snooping around a little like he usually does when he gets a moment alone in your room, and he came across a stack of Polaroids. His heart warmed when the top one was a photo of you and him at a metal show you went to with him and the guys a few towns away.
You were always surprising him and that night was no exception, banging your head until your little ribbon was about to fall out of your hair. He fixed it for you, of course. He kept looking through the stack of photos, seeing images of you and your friends back home, some of you and your cousins, and tons of you here in Hawkins. Mostly of you and him, some with his friends that were now yours too. But when he got almost to the bottom of the stack he saw a photo of you and your friends at the beach, all smiling wide at the camera. He could only see your neck and shoulders but he could tell you were wearing a little red bikini of some kind. He eagerly flipped to the next photo, hoping there might be one that proved him right, and he was not disappointed.
This picture was just you, laying on the beach with your legs outstretched in front of you, your hands were buried in the sand and just like he thought you were wearing a bright red bikini.
The way you were leaning back on your hands was making your chest stick out and the way one of your legs was slightly bent made it so he could just see the curve of your ass from the side. Your skin glistened with what he assumed was a mixture of sunscreen and sweat and he wanted to lick it off. Your eyes were adorned with heart shaped sunglasses that matched the red of your swimsuit and if he looked close enough he could tell even your toes matched.
He felt his cock harden immediately, licking his lips at the sight. Without even really thinking he shoved the photo in the back pocket of his jeans, hoping you wouldn’t notice it missing.
You tempted him twice that day, it was just too easy when you threw your clothes on top of the basket after your shower and walked into the kitchen to get a snack. Your panties were directly on top, the crotch side up, and he could see a fresh wet patch there. He couldn’t help it, he pocketed them and excused himself to the bathroom, running his tongue along the cloth where your juices had collected. His eyes rolled in the back of his head and he felt like he was going to pass out. It only took a few tugs of his cock before he was spilling cum all over his hand and exiting the bathroom with his pockets full of treasures like nothing ever happened.
•
About two weeks into this cat and mouse game you still weren’t sure you were just playing with yourself, you were alone in Eddie’s room. He ran out to his van to check for the tape he was looking for and you were sitting on his bed and one of his shirts was thrown haphazardly near his pillows like he had taken it off right before going to sleep. The thought came to you and before you could question it you were grabbing it and holding it up to your nose. It smelled good but not like you were expecting. You were expecting the scent of weed mixed with tobacco, apple shampoo and the aftershave you got for him after you told him the smell of the one he was using smelled like a 60 year old man’s wife picked it out for him.
It smelled like those things, but it also smelled like… you, your perfume. But there was something else. When you picked it up it felt slightly dry and maybe a little bit crunchy and upon closer inspection you noticed that it was dried cum. Did he spray your perfume onto his cum shirt? Was he smelling it while he stroked his cock? Thinking of you? The thought made your pussy pulse and your head spin, but it wasn’t what you wanted. Plus, he would definitely notice this missing. So when you heard the trailer door swing open you acted fast. Grabbing one of his discarded shirts that was on the ground near his bed and shoving it into your bag.
That night you did something you would’ve felt ashamed of if you weren’t positive Eddie’s done something similar, maybe even dirtier from the looks and smells of that shirt you found.
You wrapped Eddie’s shirt around your pillow and rode it until you came three times. As you drifted off to sleep still holding onto the pillow you wondered how much longer you could go without actually having the real thing.
•
Eddie was starting to wonder if you were doing this on purpose, his first indication of that being what he was currently holding in his hands. You were in the kitchen making lunch for the both of you and he was snooping around, as one does. But something caught his eye when he was walking by your shelf, something that wasn’t there before. Right on top of the stack of Polaroids he had found the bikini photo in was a picture of your tits. Your nipples were covered by your forearm, but your tits nonetheless. He was absolutely positive this hadn’t been there before, he definitely would have noticed.
Did you notice that he took the bikini photo and leave this here on purpose so he would see it? Did you take this for someone else? The thought of that made him sick to his stomach. His thoughts were bouncing around in his head like a ping pong ball trying to decide if he was reading into it, if he should take the photo or leave it. If he took it would you be mad? Would you be offended if he didn’t?
Before he could contemplate his decision further he heard your steps coming down the hall so he made a snap judgment and shoved it in his pocket. Practically launching himself onto your bed, he grabbed one of your cute frilly pillows, threw it on his lap and hoped it wouldn’t come off as suspicious.
You were walking down the hall with two bowls of Mac and cheese when you heard a shuffling sound and then the creaking of your mattress like someone just jumped on it. You smirk to yourself, wondering if Eddie saw the gift you left him.
When you open your bedroom door he’s sitting on your bed with a pillow in his lap, he flashes you a smile that is almost believable but you could see the slight flush in his cheeks. You set his bowl down on top of the pillow, and smile back.
“There you go Eds, one gourmet bowl of Kraft, as promised.” You mock curtsied, setting your own bowl down on your nightstand before walking over to your dresser under the guise of grabbing some socks. Making sure to glance as subtlety as possible at your shelf, and just as you thought, the photo was gone.
“Why thank you madam” Eddie held the spoon in his hand with his pinky out as he dramatically took a bite.
You giggled at his antics, as you grabbed the socks out of your top drawer you saw an opportunity to tease him further. You had already seen Eddie eyeing you in your little house shorts and your tank top so you pulled out your white thigh thighs, the soft fuzzy ones that you only really wore at home and made a show of putting them on.
You kept your back to him, bending over extra as you slid them slowly up your legs. You make sure to pull them up as high as they go. Leaving only a small section of skin between the top of the socks and the bottom of your shorts.
Eddie was pretty sure he was going to pass out and he thanked his past self for putting this pillow where it is right now. He watched as you pulled on your socks wondering how something as mundane as putting on fucking socks could be this sexy. When you snapped each one in place it made the meat of your thighs slightly giggle and the way they were sitting just under the curve of your ass was making it look extra juicy. He wanted to bite into it before he made his way between your thighs and spent the rest of his god damn life there.
“Fuck” He swore under his breath and hoped to god you didn’t hear him.
“Hmm? Eddie, you okay?”
You turn around and look at him with that fucking look you always gave him, like you didn’t know how sexy you were, like you didn’t know you drive him fucking crazy.
“Uh - Yeah! I was just saying fuck this is really good, I forgot how much some good ol’ kraft hits the spot.” He smiled and hoped his excuse was convincing enough, taking a large bite for good measure.
“Right? It’ll always be my favorite no matter how many homemade or restaurant kinds I’ve eaten, nothing beats it.”
You crawl onto your bed, making sure he can see down your shirt and plop down next to him on the pillows, leaning over to grab your bowl off your nightstand. Eddie can see your ass even more when your shorts ride up and he suddenly feels like he’s got to get out of here before he says or does something totally humiliating.
“I - uh - I just remembered I have to help Wayne! I told him I’d help him move his stuff into my old room since he has been so tired and hasn’t done it! So I’m - I gotta go!” He stood up swiftly, turning away from you and throwing the pillow down behind him. He didn’t turn around, just kept marching towards your door with his bowl still in hand. Only when he was practically out of your bedroom door did he turn his head to the side and address you.
“Thank you for lunch! I’ll leave the bowl in the sink! I’ll um - I’ll see you later!”
He didn’t even give you a chance to respond, ditching the bowl in the sink, grabbing his shoes not even bothering to put them on as he ran out the door to his van in only his socks.
You sat there with your mouth hanging open, eyes wide as you stared at your bedroom door wondering what the fuck just happened. Did you go too far? Were you making him uncomfortable? Maybe he changed his mind about you… Or maybe… maybe he ran home to jerk off… maybe you did go too far but not in a bad way. That’s what you hoped at least.
You bit your lip and clenched your thighs as you entertained that possibility. Was he going to go home and jerk off to your photo? Maybe with your panties held to his nose or wrapped around his cock? At least that’s what you liked to imagine he did with them, you could be wrong.
•
You were wrong, but not about that. Eddie normally used your panties exactly how you imagined. But not right now, no. He didn’t even make it home, hell, he barely made it out of your apartment building before he was pulling off into some trees and furiously tugging at his cock while he practically dripped drool on your photo. He made sure not to though, he couldn’t taint it like that. It had to remain in perfect condition in case this was his only chance to see your tits.
He grunted and whined, spitting down onto his cock and rubbing it around his tip with his thumb. His pace increased as he imagined it was your hand, or even better, your tits. He imagined sliding his spit slick cock between them while you sucked and licked at the head, he imagined covering your face and tits with his cum.
“FUCK!” He throws his head back against the seat, his eyes cross and he practically bites through his bottom lip as he cums all over his hand, his pants, even some on his shirt.
After he came down from his high, the reality of what he did hit him. He not only probably confused the hell out of you by running off like that without barely saying goodbye, he just jerked off in his fucking van to a photo he took from your bedroom. This was getting out of hand. He had to get himself under control, maybe some distance would help.
•
You hadn’t seen Eddie all week, ever since he ran out of your room like a bat out of hell and that was unusual. You guys usually saw each other a few times during the week, even if it was one of you bringing the other lunch while you were at work.
You called him a few times, either getting his voicemail or only having a brief conversation before he came up with an excuse to get off the phone. You started to wonder if you were reading things wrong after all. But that just didn’t make sense, why would he take all those things if he didn’t like you? If he didn’t want you in the desperate way you wanted him? You almost felt like you needed him.
So you decided to make a last ditch effort, no beating around the bush this time you were going to be straight forward. You grab Eddie’s shirt, your Polaroid, and your white lacy thigh highs with the little pink bows that he bashfully complimented one day.
You wrap the shirt around your pillow like you have done so many times now you’re almost ashamed. You take off your shirt and shorts before pulling on the thigh highs, leaving you in just your little white lace panties and socks.
The first photo you take is a shot from above of your tits, you can see your thong and the very top of your lace adorned thighs.
The second features your face, your eyes wide in that way you know he loves, your middle and pointer finger shoved down your throat with your lips wrapped around them. If you look close enough you can see a bit of drool dripping down between your boobs.
The third photo is a full nude, your legs spread and pussy on full display for him.
The next one is the one you’re most excited for, the one that sparked this entire plan. It’s an upshot of you from the neck down, you’re straddling the pillow that’s wrapped in Eddie’s shirt in just your socks, your free hand grabbing onto one of your tits.
The last photo is you in the same position but it’s from below, you have your fingers on your pussy, opening yourself up for him against the material of his shirt.
Satisfied with the spread, you gather them up, grab your discarded thong and remove the shirt from your pillow. You fold the panties and the photos into the shirt like they’re a gift to be unwrapped and put them in a little box. Then you write out a note.
Eddie,
if you wanted my panties… all you had to do was ask. You’ve taken all my cutest ones now. But that’s okay because I took something of yours too, I thought you might want it back.
Xoxo - Your angel.
You sign the note with the nickname he had awarded you and fold it in half, putting it on top of the shirt and then you put the lid on the box. Now all you had to do was give it to him, everyone had planned to meet at Gareth’s for a movie night tomorrow and he was supposed to pick you up. You could give it to him in the car before you get there and tell him not to open it until he gets home. It was the perfect plan. Hopefully.
•
Eddie was nervous on his way to pick you up for movie night, he had managed to avoid you the entire week, much to his dismay. He felt pathetic but he missed you, and even though he was still feeling guilty he was excited to see you.
He pulled into a guest parking spot in front of your building and was surprised to see you already standing there. He usually had to come in while you finished getting ready because you were perpetually running late. But you were standing there in a little white dress and a soft looking pink knit sweater, holding a little box in your arms. He figured it was some kind of baked goods, you pretty much always brought treats to every get together.
You saw him pull in and waved as you walked over, he jumped out of the car so he could come around and open the door for you.
“Hi Eddie, this is for you. But don’t open it now, open it when you get home. Okay? Promise me?”
You sounded nervous, hell, you looked nervous. What was in that box? He doesn’t know how he’s going to get through the night not knowing.
“A gift? For me? Angel, you shouldn’t have.” He tried to play it cool, even though he was feeling anything but.
“I didn’t spend any money on it or anything… but I’m not giving it to you unless you promise you won’t open it until you get home later.”
“Yeah, I promise.” He smiled at you reassuringly.
You handed it to him nervously, and he took it with glee, immediately shaking it like a Christmas present.
“EDDIE!! Don’t do that, you’re never going to guess what it is so just wait, please!”
You were looking at him with this pouty look on your face and he literally would’ve said yes to murder at that moment so he agreed. You let out a breath of relief as you got into the car, now all you had to do is wait.
•
Movie night wasn’t awkward like you feared it might be. When Eddie picked you up he acted totally normal, like he hadn’t been ignoring you all week and you couldn’t tell if that annoyed you or not. Maybe a little. You wanted to ask him about it but you also didn’t want to make things awkward by bringing it up so you tried to act as normal as you could.
That little box in the back of Eddie’s van was in the back of your mind all night though, you couldn’t stop overthinking and second guessing your decision. You even almost went out to his van at one point to take everything out and shove it in your bag but you talked yourself out of it.
Eddie was in a similar boat, he was having fun, he was engaging and acting as normal as he could but all he could think about was what possibly could be in that box. He knows you made him promise but there are several times where he has to physically stop himself from just going out to his van to look in it.
When the last movie ends you and Eddie were both quick to gather your things and leave. Him wanting to get home as fast as possible to see what was in the box and you wanting the looming thoughts of how he might react to just be over with.
Your goodbyes were chaste, neither of you bringing up the gift you had given him. He walked you to the door like he always did but he didn’t ask to come inside and the hug he gave was much faster than the usual bear hugs he would normally give you.
•
Eddie sped home, he lived in a studio apartment a few miles from yours and the drive had never felt so long. He pulled into his parking spot with a screech, grabbed the box from the back and rushed inside.
He didn’t even bother to take his shoes off, throwing his jacket across the back of the couch before plopping down on one of the cushions with the box in his lap.
He took a deep breath before opening it. At the top was a note, he unfolded it and as he read it he swore all the blood from his body went directly to his cock.
Underneath the note was his shirt, his favorite Iron Maiden one he hadn’t been able to find for a few weeks.
It was folded neatly so he gently took it out of the box, it felt heavier than it should and when it was fully in his grasp he could feel that there was something inside it.
He sets it down in front of him on his coffee table so he can unfold it and his jaw drops when he sees what’s inside. A pair of your panties, a little white lace thong is sitting under a stack of Polaroids.
His hand shakes as he reaches for the photos, when he sees the first one he actually moans, and then they somehow just keep getting better. But he stops dead in his tracks when he sees the second to last one.
You have his shirt wrapped around your pillow and you’re straddling it in nothing but those fucking socks, and he’s seriously going to lose his mind, especially when he sees the last photo of you in the same position, spread open for him.
It took him a second to get past the fog of lust to realize what this means. You knew. You always knew what he was doing. It all makes sense now. The way your panties were always so easy to steal, how he always happened to have the perfect view of your tits and ass, the photo. Also you took his shirt, you didn’t just take it, you put it on your fucking pillow and humped it. He hopes you did it more than once. He picks up the shirt again and he really looks at it this time, there’s little white streaks all over it, from you. He brings it to his nose and it’s the best thing he’s ever smelled. Both of your scents mixed together, topped off with the sweet smell of your pussy.
His initial thought was to rip his pants off and stroke his cock until it was raw but he realized he could do better than that. He could have the real thing. He needed to see you. Now.
He didn’t even think twice about shoving everything back in the box and walking back out the door to his van. Speeding off in the direction towards your house.
•
You were laying in your bed trying not to let your anxiety consume you when you heard banging on your door. Your heart pounded and your mouth went dry, you knew who it was, there was no way it could be anyone but him.
You opened the door and there he was, looking absolutely feral if you might add. His eyes were wide, pupils blown out, he was breathing like he ran a mile, and his hair was all over the place. You wanted to eat him alive.
“You knew?” He held up the box you had given him earlier the night, his hands shaking.
“Yeah…” You bit your lip as you nodded. “I knew the whole time… from when you took that first pair of panties, I knew.”
“And you didn’t say anything?” He looked at you, his eyes filled with lust and confusion.
You shake your head, a smirk forming across your lips.
“Why not?” He was still panting, hands grasped tightly on the box.
“It was fun, I thought for a while there that you knew I was doing it on purpose, and then when I realized you didn’t it was almost hotter to me for some reason… I’m sorry if that’s weird.” You suddenly felt super self conscious, was he mad you didn’t say anything?
“I stole your panties, multiple pairs might I add, and you’re asking me if it’s weird that you left them out for me?” He laughed, bringing his hand up to your cheek and rubbing his thumb across it.
“I could never think you were weird angel, do you know how sexy that is? And these photos…” He groaned, his eyes rolling back in his head. “Did you really…”
“Fuck my pillow with your shirt on it? Yeah.” You nodded, your face nuzzling into his palm.
“Jesus fucking christ… that’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard in my entire life, shit.”
He used the hand cradling your face to pull you closer, clashing your lips together in a hungry kiss. You immediately buried your fingers in his hair, like you did in all your fantasies. You wanted him closer but the box was still in between you so you broke the kiss long enough to pull him inside and discard it on your kitchen counter.
You pulled his mouth back down to yours by the collar of his shirt, running your tongue along his bottom lip and he immediately granted you access. Your hands made their way back into his hair and he gripped your hips pulling you tightly against him.
“God Eddie, I want you so fucking bad.” You moaned against his lips.
“Angel, I’ll give you anything you want after all these sweet gifts you’ve been leaving me without me even knowing… you really thought I knew?” He took your face in both your hands, running his hands down your neck and rubbing his thumbs along your jaw.
“For a while there, yeah… That’s why I left you that first picture, but then when I came back in my room and you were acting all nervous I realized you definitely didn’t know. I thought for a second I might’ve made you uncomfortable but I took the chance with the photos anyway… looks like it paid off.” You looked him up and down, biting your lip.
“Fuck yeah it did.” He pulled you into another bruising kiss that you happily returned. You stood there in your kitchen making out for what could’ve been minutes or hours, tongues exploring every inch of each other's mouths and your hands mapping out each other's bodies.
You finally pulled away, breathless. You smirked at him, placing a kiss on his throat before turning around and walking towards your room. Eddie wanted to scream at the sight of your ass in your tiny little pink spandex shorts. He bit down on his fist instead, admiring you for a moment before practically running after you.
You were standing in the middle of the room with a smirk on your face that he’s never seen, one you must have been hiding from him this whole time. You looked like you wanted to eat him alive and he was going to let you.
“Tell me about your fantasies Eddie… tell me what you did with my panties, I wanna know so bad.” Your smirk turned into a little pout, giving him that fucking look. The one he knows now is all an act, but something about that just makes his dick even harder for you.
“Fuck, you really want to know? The first time I sucked on them while I jerked off and right when I was about to cum I wrapped them around my dick and came all over them.”
“Mmm… that’s what I hoped you’d do, tell me more…” You walk up to him and run your hands down his chest, hook your fingers in his front pockets and give him the look.
“I can’t believe this is happening, I - uh - I was so scared if you ever found out you’d hate me. But fuck, I never imagined you would be into it.” He put his hands on your hips and squeezed, almost like he was making sure this was real.
“Well, you better believe it honey, because I am so so into it.. please tell me more.” You lean up and press wet kisses along his neck.
“God damn.” He throws his head to the side more, granting you further access to his throat. “When I had a second pair I sucked on the newer ones and used that same pair to jerk off. Then when I got your perfume I sprayed it on my pillow so that I could smell you and taste you.”
“Mmm Eddie, that’s so hot.” You bite into his throat causing him to let out the cutest little yelp, sucking the skin into your mouth, wanting to mark him as your own.
“Then once I had the bikini photo I was able to see you too, so it was like I was surrounded by you in every way possible.”
His hands snake down your hips to grab onto your ass, the material of your shorts and the feeling of your soft skin contrasting with the calluses on his fingers.
“That day when I found that picture of your tits… and then you somehow found a way to make putting socks on one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen and you topped it off by bending over in those little shorts with your ass practically in my face? I barely made it out of your building before I pulled over and jerked off in my van like a depraved psycho.”
You moaned at that, pulling back from his neck to look him in the eyes.
“If you’re depraved… so am I.” You pull your tank top over your head and throw it on the ground behind you somewhere, followed by your shorts. Eddie seriously thinks he’s in love with you at this point because you’re not wearing a bra or panties but you are of course wearing white thigh highs. You’re standing there like every fantasy he’s ever had about you come true, but better.
“Angel, those pictures have nothing on the real thing” He grabbed onto your tits, twisting your nipples between his fingers. Using his nose to brush your hair away so he can whisper in your ear. “I need to taste you so bad, like, so bad. I need to know what the real thing tastes like.”
“Mmm fuck, yes, want that so bad.”
You lay back on your bed and spread your legs, showing him how wet you are for him. Eddie doesn’t think twice before dropping to his knees in front of your bed and throwing your legs over his shoulders. He wishes he had it in him to kiss every inch of you before tasting you but it was like someone offered him the nectar of the gods and he needed it now.
He parted your lips with his fingers before running his tongue along your slit, licking up and down with a flat tongue before shoving it as far as it could go inside you.
“Ho- holy shit! Eddie!! Fuck, your mouth is so good.” Your fingers found his hair again, tugging and the groan he lets out sends vibrations through your pussy.
“I thought your panties tasted sweet but nothing will ever taste sweeter than the real thing, oh my god baby.”
His tongue comes up to circle your clit, wrapping his lips around it and sucking. You feel his fingers circle your entrance before he’s inserting his pointer and middle finger deep inside you. He curls his fingers in just the right way, he’s still sucking your clit while he runs circles around it with his tongue and you feel yourself getting close.
“I’m gonna - I’m gonna - fuckinnng cum - I’m gonna cum.” You pull his hair again and start rocking your hips against his face. You watch his eyes roll back and feel him moan into you again, knowing he’s enjoying this as much as you is what sends you over the edge. Your hips rising off the bed and your hands falling from his hair to grasp the sheets. Eddie brings his free hand down on your abdomen to hold you down as he fucks you through your high.
You try to push him off once it becomes too much but you hear, or more so feel him let out an “Uh-Uh” into your pussy. His hand that’s pinning you down doesn’t move and his fingers stay buried inside you. He’s licking and sucking on your clit like a man starved and you immediately feel another orgasm crash over you. Your entire body shakes and you let out noises you didn’t even know you can make.
When he feels you push at his head this time he lets you, looking up at you with a grin on his face, his chin and mouth covered in your juices.
“Sorry… you just tasted so good and when you came it was so hot I didn’t want to stop.” He looked awfully bashful for someone who was just eating you out like it was his fucking job.
“You’re sorry? Holy shit Eddie, I’ve never cum that hard in my entire life.”
He smiled triumphantly, you’d think just told him he won the lottery. He came up and covered his body with yours, kissing you without wiping his face. The taste of you on his tongue was intoxicating so you pulled away from the kiss and licked his lips, then his chin, and down his neck.
“Fuck, we taste so good together.” You moan.
“Holy fucking shit, you’re my dream girl.”
“Let me return the favor, I wanna taste you too, also you are wearing way too many clothes right now.” You pull at the hem of his shirt and he puts his arm behind his head to pull it off.
You’ve never seen him shirtless before and you needed a better view. You push on his shoulders until he lifts himself off of you and lays back on the bed. You throw your leg over him to straddle him, looking down at him in awe.
“Wow Eddie… you’re beautiful.”
You smile at him with that devilish little smile he’s becoming addicted to as you run your soft hands along his chest before raking your nails down his torso, all the way to the waistband of his jeans. His back arches off the bed as he lets out this sound that you want to hear him make over and over again.
You grind your hips down on his, fiddling with his belt loop and looking at him with a question in your eyes.
“Please.” Now he’s the one giving you the look and you understand why he loves it much. Those big brown eyes are wide and glassy, there’s a slight pout on his lips and even though he just ate you out so good it makes you want to sit on his face.
But there’s something you want more, something you’ve been dreaming about. So you undo his belt and jeans with deft fingers, pulling on the waistband of both his pants and boxers. He lifts his hips so you can pull them down and when his cock pops out and hits his stomach your jaw actually drops.
You always figured Eddie was big. You caught small glimpses through his jeans when he thought he was hiding his boners better than he really was, so you had an idea. But it’s bigger than you imagined, and so so pretty. The tip red and leaking precum, each vein prominent because of how hard he was. You lick your lips and spit on your hand, wrapping your hand around his cock and pumping it a few times. He makes that sound again and you know you’re addicted to it now.
“Your cock is huge baby, I can’t wait to feel it stretching me out.” You spit on the head of his cock, circling your thumb around it before you lean down and take it in your mouth.
“Holy - fuckING - sh - shit!” Eddie instinctually jerks forward, his cock hits the back of your throat and you gag.
He’s about to apologize but you don’t pull off, just push his cock further down your throat until your nose is snug against the hair at the base. There’s tears coming out of the sides of your eyes and drool dripping down your chin but you’re moaning and so he can tell you’re enjoying it. You circle your tongue around his shaft a few times before pulling off.
Not for long though, you take him as far as you can without gagging and start bobbing your head up and down, your hand moving in time with whatever your mouth can't reach. Eddie is a moaning mess, he’s babbling your name in between curse words, switching between grabbing onto your hair, the sheets, and his own hair.
When you pull off his dick and bring your mouth to his balls, swirling your tongue all around his sack before sucking one into your mouth he’s pretty sure he’s in love with you. But he’s also positive that he wants to fuck you so he grabs you by your hair and pulls you off.
“Hey, I wasn’t done!” You look at him with a pout and you whine. Every time Eddie thinks he can’t possibly be anymore obsessed with you, you prove him wrong.
“Yeah but I was about to come and I want to fuck you so badly.” He’s the one whining now.
“Can I ride you?” You ask him like that’s even a question.
“Fuck yeah you can.”
You eagerly climb back up to straddle him, wasting no time lining him up with your entrance and sliding down on his cock. It’s still a stretch but you’re so wet it hardly hurts. You rock back and forth a few times once your hips are flush against yours and you moan in unison at the feeling.
“Oh sh- shit, your pussy is so fucking t- tight. Feels better than I could’ve ever imagined.”
“Yeah? Your cock is so fucking big, filling me up so good Eds.”
You start riding him hard and fast, your ass bouncing against his thighs, your tits on full display and you’re moaning his name over and over again like a prayer. He has one hand on your ass, grabbing it so hard you’re sure you’re going to have a bruise there tomorrow, and you honestly hope you do. He brings the thumb of his free hand up to your bottom lip and runs it across it.
“Suck.”
You do, happily, swirling your tongue around the digit and moaning at the feeling of having something in your mouth while your pussy is being filled too. He pulls it out and you’re about to mourn the loss but then he’s rubbing circles on your clit and fucking up into you to meet your thrusts.
He starts fucking you so fast that you can’t keep up, you put your hands on his chest, your nails digging into his flesh and just let him take you. He’s fucking you hard and fast, his cock hitting just the right spot while he continues to circle your clit.
“Eddie I’m c - close I-I’m close.” Your babbling and drooling, fucked out and on the brink of what you know is going to be a mind altering orgasm.
“Me too Angel, I need you to cum for me. Cum all over my cock just like you dreamed about when you were humping your little pillow.” His feet are flat on the mattress and he’s somehow fucking you harder than he was before. When you cum your vision goes white, pleasure jolts through your entire system and you aren’t even sure you’re on this planet anymore.
“Fuck fuck fuck fuck I’m gonna- I’m gonna cum, where do you?”
Eddie talking brings you back to earth just enough to respond, to tell him what you want.
“Inside! Eddie please inside! I want you to cum inside me so bad!” You start to meet his thrusts, he’s still rubbing your clit and you’re so sensitive you already feel another orgasm coming on.
“Oh fuck!!!” Eddie cries out as his thrusts slow down to pumps and his cum spills inside you. The feeling sends you over the edge, cumming right along with him. Your walls squeeze him for all he’s worth.
When you come down you let yourself fall onto his chest, both of you panting, your hearts pounding. You lay like that for a while, catching your breath and enjoying the feeling of each other. Eventually your knees start to cramp and you slide off of him, settling at his side with your head on his chest.
“I’m gonna fuckin marry you someday.”
You laugh, even though he doesn’t sound like he’s joking.
“Yeah? I think I’d like that. Then my underwear will stop going missing because we will live in the same house.”
You both started cracking up at that.
“I’m serious though, can I have some of them back? You really did steal all my best ones…” You looked up at him and pouted, giving him the look.
“That’s not gonna work the same now that I know you’re just using it against me…”
“You sure about that?” You stick your bottom lip out further and make your eyes even wider.
“Ugh, no. You’re still not getting them back though, I’ll buy you new ones.” He brings his hand up to push your hair out of your face and places a kiss on your temple.
“Why? So you can just take those ones too?” You tease.
“Nah, I have the real thing now. I’d rather take them off you.”
Tagging the bbs: @the-unforgivenn @lokis-army-77 @gravedigginbbydoll @bettyfrommars @eddiemunson95 @melodymunson @bangaveragewhitewine
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x fem!reader#Eddie munson x reader smut#perv!eddie#perv!eddie munson#perv!eddie munson x reader#perv!eddie munson x perv!reader#Eddie munson one shot#eddie munson imagine
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JOEL’S VISIT | Bad Blood Extra | 3,8k
Summary: Joel pays you a visit and makes your night unforgettable.
Tw: +18, mdni, smut, step-cest, big age gap (reader is 22, Joel is in his late 40s), step uncle!Joel is a warning in himself, stepdad Tommy makes an appearance (kinda), fingering, ass play, anal, sex toy, spit as lube, pussy slapping, cum eating, creampie, degradation kink, praise kink, alcohol consumption, swearing.
A/n: written as a naughty bday present for my love @milla-frenchy 🥳 happy birthday, baby!😘🩷 ILY! Hope you’ll enjoy my little gift❤️ and Joel’s huge gift🍆🍑😏
Pics are only for the mood. Reader has no specific physical description. Reader wears a skirt. Dividers by @strangergraphics-archive
Series Masterlist || MASTERLIST || Milla’s MASTERLIST
You step into your favorite bar in your college town and search for him. You notice the familiar broad shoulders far away from the crowd and saunter there, on the way turning heads of the other patrons but you don’t care about them. As if by a magnet you’re being pulled to the man, who’s sipping whiskey in a dark corner booth. Joel Miller.
You hate to admit it but you really missed the fucker. Missed his rough hands, his dirty words, his assholish attitude. No one else can make your blood boil like that but the hate you often feel towards him morphs into passion so fast that you wonder if your relationship is meant to be. As toxic as they are, you've never felt such a strong pull towards anyone. Except your stepdad Tommy of course.
Right now Joel’s in the dog house. You’re still fuming over his intention to fuck someone with the hard on YOU gave him. So you don’t sit next to him and instead settle in front of the man at the booth.
Joel looks up from his drink and a smirk tugs at his lips, shining with drops of whiskey.
“Hey, uncle Joel,” you greet him with a reserved smile. He’s wearing a denim vest with a white tank top underneath and his huge arms make your heart skip a beat. Why does he always look so delicious?
“Hello, angel.”
His eyes slide down to your lips and then cleavage, with your tits almost spilling out of your top by design. He adjusts himself before asking,
“Doncha wanna give your favourite uncle a kiss?”
“Not really,” you reply as your eyes are boring into him.
He huffs a laugh and rubs his scruffy cheek.
“Being a cold bitch doesn’t suit you, baby. I prefer you needy and with my cock between your pretty lips.”
You scoff, rolling your eyes, but your mouth waters at his words.
“It’s a health issue, Joel. I don’t wanna catch anything after you fucked every hole in Austin.”
Joel’s brows rise up and he leans forward, planting his elbows on the table. Your teeth sink into your lower lip as you ogle his arms and shoulders.
“Oh, little slut’s jealous.”
You cross your arms making your breasts almost jump out of your top and lie,
“No, I‘m not.”
He narrows his eyes at you and takes a sip of his whiskey before talking again.
“Here’s a thing, angel. You can keep Tommy’s balls in a cute box under your bed. I don’t care. But ya definitely not getting mine.”
You scoff and he leans back against the seat.
“So let’s make it clear— I fuck whoever I want whenever I want.”
You clench your jaws as anger and jealousy squeeze your throat.
For some time you two sit in silence, the air between you electrified and heavy.
Finally Joel gets up with a grunt and you look up at him scared that he might leave, abandon you, but to your relief he comes up to your seat and plops down next to you. He turns to you slightly and puts his huge arm on the backrest behind you. He’s so close that it feels like a hug. His scent immediately envelops you and you gush as if on command.
“Look at me,” Joel gruffs but you keep staring ahead of yourself.
“Look. At. Me.”
The steel in his rumbling voice makes you throb and you turn your face to him, hiding your true emotions, your expression angry and cold.
“I’ve had a shitty day, angel. Don’t make it worse.”
He sounds serious and you furrow your brows with worry.
“What happened?”
Joel grabs his drink and finishes it. He wipes his lips with the back of his hand and talks to the empty glass.
”Paid Jess a visit today. Tommy left some stuff at your… her house.”
“Why didn’t he go himself?” you ask, feeling a pang of sadness that Tommy didn’t tell you anything.
Joel laughs.
“I don’t think he wants to meet your dear mother. He fucked her daughter on their marital bed. She ain’t exactly waiting for him there with open arms.”
“And you? I’m sure she wasn’t happy to see you either.”
“I don’t give a fuck. The bitch can curse me out all she wants. Tommy’s just too good of a guy. Feels bad.”
“Whatever,” you grumble.
Your gaze drops and you sit quietly, deep in your thoughts. Does Tommy feel bad about what happened? If so does he regret your relationship? Does he regret you?
“Hey,” Joel calls and you immediately look up at him, noticing a trace of softness in his voice. “Tommy asked me to give you something.”
“What?”
Joel turns to you more, his thigh presses against yours, and he brings his hand to your jaw. He pinches your chin and slowly leans down.
You slightly open your mouth, welcoming him, and he kisses you. In a second he’s licking into your mouth with passion, claiming you in front of everyone, and you melt, tasting whiskey and cigarettes on his hot tongue. He grabs the back of your head and devours your mouth, swallowing your needy whimpers as his other hand settles on your bare thigh, close to your naked pussy under the short skirt. He squeezes your leg and, feeling how much he wants you, you gush more. Your soft moans are drowned in a sea of chatter and music at the bar. It takes just a few seconds of this, of him, to make your pussy uncomfortably wet. Your core is crying for more and you open your legs wider, signaling him to touch you.
Joel’s plush lips part from yours as he mumbles,
“Here’s my needy slut.”
You reply with a flirty smile and press your body closer to his.
“Take me to a motel. Want you to fuck me like one of your cheap hookers.”
You drag your nose up his neck and Joel groans, roughly kneading your thigh.
“My sweet niece needs to get railed, uh? Dontcha have some fuck boy on standby at your dorm?
“I don’t cheat on daddy,” you whisper against his neck.
“Oh?”
”It’s ok if it’s you. It’s different.”
Joel huffs and then his expression gets serious.
”I can’t do motel today, baby. Need to get going.”
“Already?” you whine, pouting your lips.
“Yeah. Have work tomorrow. And if I get you all to myself in a room I won’t be able to stop fucking ya for at least a week.”
You smile and playfully bite the skin of his neck, before purring, “Sounds good.”
Your pussy is tingling for him and you desperately need to alleviate the ache.
“Please, Joel,” you sit straight and plead, batting your lashes at him. “I miss your big cock so much.”
Joel's wolfish grin makes your clit throb with the beat of your heart. Your tactics seem to work because he adjusts his big bulge and groans,
“My truck. Now.”
You can’t get up fast enough and then hurry to the exit, feeling Joel’s eyes on your swaying ass.
The parking lot is dark, illuminated only by one street light, and almost empty except for a few cars. Joel motions to his truck and you shiver when you walk there but not because of the cold. The culprit is an anticipation of his hands on your body, his cock deep inside you.
Before getting in you stop with your back to your step uncle.
”Wanna show you something.”
You bend over slightly and then lift your skirt. He sees your bare ass and you hear a whistle.
“Juicy.” He grabs your asscheeks but you swat his hands away.
“No, Joel. Wait.“
You push your ass out and spread your cheeks so he could see a pink jeweled butt plug, shaped like a heart.
“Fuck, angel, this for me? Been training your ass to take my big dick?
“Yeah. I thought you might miss it.”
You sigh when he presses his whole frame to yours. His big hands start kneading your naked cheeks and he licks the side of your neck and sucks a hickey into your delicate skin.
“Tommy asked me to leave this as a message for everyone.”
“What’s the message?” You breathe out, grinding your butt against Joel’s bulge.
“This pussy‘s taken. You’re ours.”
You moan, reveling in the possessiveness of the brothers and the sensation of Joel’s heavy body, pressing you against the truck, and you’re slowly but surely drenching your inner thighs. Soon the need overtakes any pride you have left.
“Fuck me, Joel. Fuck my ass. Please.”
“Sure, angel,” he growls, taking a step back, and pulls you off the truck. ”Inside. On your back.”
You do as you’re told, drunk with desire and excitement, and lie down on the faux leather seat at the back of the car. Joel settles between your thighs and throws your left ankle on his shoulder, opening you up for him.
“You often fuck here?” you ask, noticing how fast he found a comfortable position.
He replies with a smirk, “No, only on special occasions.”
You shoot him a playful wink.
“Aww. I’m flattered.”
“Ya should be. I’ll probably spend ages cleaning everything off your slick, little slut.”
“Fuck you,” you giggle and spread your thighs wider, as he grabs your hips and lifts them a little.
The hem of your skirt slides to your waist and Joel leers at your exposed pussy. In the almost dark car his eyes are glinting like those of a predator in a night forest. Your breath hitches as you marvel at his handsome features, accentuated by the dim yellow glow from the outside.
Joel seems to be mesmerized by you too.
“Here she is. Wet little pussy.”
He covers your cunt with his big hand and you shiver when his warm palm squeezes your cold folds.
A gasp crawls up your throat as Joel begins playing with your slippery cunt, drawing soft moans from you—he slides his fingers over your lips, massages your mound, lightly grazes your eager clit and when he lowers his hand and brushes the pink heart of your butt plug, you buck your hips, calling for him to take you.
His light ministrations feel so good you might cry but they are not enough to satiate your thirst so you yank the neckline of your top down and start kneading your naked breasts.
“Fuck, angel, never met anyone this horny and cock hungry.”
You don’t reply, fully lost in the sensations, but Joel demands your attention by flicking your clit and you cry out as a jolt of pain mixed with pleasure shoots through your body.
“Joelllll,” you whine but then a hazy smile blooms on your face and your step uncle notices it.
“How could I forget that my little niece likes a lil bit of pain with her pleasure? Dirty fucking girl.”
You smirk and Joel continues,
“I see you clenching your holes, baby. That pretty plug of yours nearly jumped out of your asshole. Let’s make it dance.”
Suddenly he slaps your pussy with an open palm and you whine,
“Fuck, Joel.” Your body jerks and all your muscles contract. His hot palm lands on your blooming cunt again and again, the strokes light but precise and sharp. Your soft moans fill the truck, sometimes interrupted by Joel’s encouragement.
“Doing good, angel— ya know ya deserve it—look at ya asshole sucking in the plug— your pussy’s winking at me—can ya come like that, baby?”
Through the lustful fog in your head, you barely register what he wants from you but when you do, your fingers start twitching your nipples, pushing yourself closer to the edge.
Slap—slap—slap, Joel spanks your slicked puffy folds and when his wet hand hits your clit just right, you cry out. Your head dips into the seat, your back arches as you come undone from Joel’s rough caress and he praises,
“Yeah, like that, angel. Good fucking slut.”
It takes you some time to stop trembling and when your limbs and body relax, you find Joel’s obsidian eyes drinking in every sign of your ecstasy.
“That was…Wow. Never came from spanking before.”
“‘s weird considering what a bratty bitch you can be. I’d think every second lover wants to slap your cunt.”
You smirk and flutter your eyes shut, still melting after experiencing such an incredible pleasure.
But they immediately snap open when you feel your butt plug move. You see Joel’s eyes glued to your puckered hole, held open by the jeweled toy.
“Joel?” Your voice is strained by the overwhelming sensation of the plug shifting its position inside you and you lift yourself on your elbows to see what he’s doing.
“I really missed your tight hole, angel. Very. Much.”
Joel empathizes each word by moving the plug in and out of your asshole. It glides smoothly, covered with lube and now your slick. You bite your lip, and whimper at the sight and feeling of your tight hole, stretching around the shiny head of the plug and then clamping around its base.
“Damn,” Joel mumbles to himself, as his fingers leave the plug and he begins unbuckling his belt. “Your asshole‘s drenched by your needy pussy. Might do without lube.”
“Yeah, Joel, fuck me raw. ‘s ok if it burns a little.”
“Shit, angel. Naughty slut. Look what ya doing to me.”
Joel unzips his jeans and tugs them down and your eyes are graced with the sight of his huge hard cock. The tip looks like a fat shiny lollipop and you almost drool seeing it bob over your naked cunt.
“Let’s replace the toy with something better, baby”.
Joel’s hand confidently wraps around the base of his stiff manhood while the other pulls on the plug. Your asshole clenches around it tightly, not letting it go, but Joel slowly slides it out and your ring closes.
Your chest is heaving with a mixture of excitement and nerves as Joel slides his cock between your soaked folds, wetting it, and then nudges your asshole with his leaking tip. He pushes in and you take a deep breath to relax but your hole is too tight.
“C’mon, little slut, relax for me.”
”Yeah,” you nod obediently and lie back down, looking up and trying to relax your muscles.
”‘s like that, open up for me, angel. You’ve taken me before.”
“Yeah, but … when I took your huge dick Tommy was there. He knows how to make me relax.”
You find Joel’s obsidian eyes, and then look down at his lips. The man scoffs.
“I ain’t gonna smooch ya forehead, baby. And ‘good girl’ for sure ain’t about you, little slut. So let’s try something else.”
Suddenly you feel Joel’s cock bump into your hardened clit. You whimper, hazy eyes locked with Joel’s, and he drops his head and starts drawing circles over your sensitive bud with his slippery tip.
“Ya like when I do this?”
”Yeah.”
“Good, breathe, baby. Unclench for me. Uncle wants to ruin your tight ass.”
He’s swirling your clit for some time and when the sensation of him, massaging your pussy, brings you close to the second climax, he slides his cock down to your crack and pushes into your tight ring.
With a gasp you feel your asshole give in as he inserts his mushroom head inside your ass, slowly but assertively. Your nails dig into the faux leather of the seat while Joel groans and closes his eyes and you watch his handsome weathered face twist in pleasure.
“Fuckkk,“ he growls and your heart sings, seeing him enjoy your body that much. Not minding the dull pain and the feeling of fullness, you whisper,
“Deeper, Joel. Want your whole cock in my ass.”
He opens his eyes and smirks at you,
“‘Course, angel. Gonna use you so good, you won’t be able to sit for a week.”
His promise should probably make you nervous but lust has completely taken over your body and mind so you bend your legs and press them to your sides, submitting your body to him like an offering.
Joel’s huge hands grab your asscheeks, he spreads them and holds you open before rolling his hips, pushing his cock deeper into you.
He’s grunting and groaning while you’re breathing in and out steadily, opening up for him more and more. Letting him claim the deepest part of you.
Soon Joel bottoms out with a satisfied sigh and stops his movement.
“Look at that, angel. My dick’s fully inside ya ass.” His eyes are focused on the place where he’s sheathed inside you. ”Fuck, I’m so happy Tommy married your mother. It brought me here.”
He chuckles and drops his head back in pleasure and you lift on your elbows to see the way you are joined and watch your asshole flex around the base of his cock.
“Yeah, glad we met, Joel. Now can you please move?” You whine, desperately needing more. Joel doesn’t make you wait- he grabs your hips tighter and slowly pulls his cock out almost to the tip and then slams it back inside as you moan and grab onto the seat.
He starts off slow, rhythmically moving his stiffness inside your ass, then pulls out his glistening shaft half way out of you, spits on it, and plunges back in your canal. You moan as the wetness adds to the pleasure, coursing through your body, and soon your sweet sounds and Joel’s groans fill the inside of the truck.
You whine your step uncle’s name and your hand slithers down to your cunt.
“What is it, little slut? Aw, your needy pussy’s lonely,huh?”Joel mocks, through gritted teeth, and you gloat inside thinking that he must have a real hard time trying not to burst inside you.
But you decide to be a good girl for him so you bite your lip, pull your eyebrows together and nod.
“You’re cute, let’s fill your sloppy hole too then.”
Joel leans down and brings his index and middle fingers to your mouth.
“Make ‘em all nice and wet, angel.”
You smile and take his thick digits between your lips and lick them, glide your tongue over his skin, coating it in your saliva.
When Joel decides it’s enough, he pulls them out and straightens, slowing down his thrusts.
With his cock deep in your ass, he pushes two of his fingers into your crying pussy and you both watch both of your holes being spread wide around Joel.
“Fuck, I’m so full. Your fingers are like another cock inside me.”
“Ya welcome,” he mumbles and starts fucking both of your entrances— your ass with his cock, your pussy with his hand.
If you were enjoying yourself before now you’re in heaven.
“Yes, Joel, don’t stop,” you moan and the man growls in response. His thick and long cock in your ass takes so much room that your pussy channel feels tighter, his fingers stimulate you so much better, that in no time your walls start contracting around his fingers. Squelching sounds of your weeping cunt makes Joel fuck into your holes faster and soon you unravel under his ministrations, crying out his name and arching your back off the seat. You’re trembling all over, cock dumb, pleasure drunk, biting your puffy lips and leaving scratches on the seat.
When you relax and melt under the man, he pulls his fingers out of your pussy, and slowly thrusting into your ass, lets you clean them up.
”Lick it off, angel, be a good girl.”
You lazily taste yourself and then he covers your body with his, pressing you into the seat, his hips flush with your asscheeks.
“Gonna come soon, baby. Gimme some sugar.”
With that he kisses you passionately and begins hammering into your ass, reaching the deepest spot inside you, feverishly chasing his climax.
Seizing this moment of unity with him, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and hold him tight, while your tongues are moving against each other. You’re gladly letting him take everything from you and soon his muscles tense under your touch and he makes a few hard thrusts and then moans into your mouth and begins spurting ropes of hot cum inside you. He’s filling you up to the brim, his throbbing cock moving in and out of your tight canal, pushing his cum deeper into your stretched ass.
You’re nuzzling his cheek, tasting his skin with your tongue, and the overwhelming feelings in your chest make you forget your complicated relationship with the man stuffing you so well and you purr his name into his ear, softly, gently, pouring so much into these four letters. Joel locks eyes with you, while his cock still twitches inside you from time to time.
His gaze is relaxed, soft and satisfied, rid of the usual sharpness, mockery, guard.
Your throat squeezes and your breath hitches when you realize that you’re staring at someone else, someone deep inside Joel you know and before he disappears, hides behind the wall, you kiss him gently, hug him close, and he gives you all of that back.
A few minutes later Joel’s tucking his cock back into his jeans, groaning about your slick and scratches all over the seat. The asshole is back.
“Maybe ya wanna lick off your mess, angel?”
“Fuck off,” you snap, fixing your clothes, and then get into the front of the truck and carefully sit down on the passenger seat. Your ass is sore and plugged up again with Joel’s cum inside. ”A warm farewell gift for ya,” he laughed.
“Going raw was a mistake,” you complain with a hiss and watch him get behind the wheel with a lit cigarette between his lips.
“Take me to the dorm,” you command and Joel glares at you without moving.
“Please, uncle Joel,” you bat your lashes with exaggeration and he starts the car.
You immediately take out your phone and call Tommy.
“Hey, baby.”
“Daddy! Guess who just fucked my ass!” You chirp with excitement into the speaker.
You hear Tommy chuckling, Joel curses and smiles at you.
“I need the details, baby.”
You give Joel a wink and start talking.
Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!
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Silent Night
Joel Miller x f!reader
Summary: You’re home for the holidays and Joel isn't gonna let a drinking contest or a house full of people stop him.
Warnings: PWP ofc, established relationship, mentions of drinking/alcohol, having to keep quiet?, oral (f&m receiving), thigh grinding, creampie, breeding kink, come play, getting caught, I think that's all lmk if I missed anything
w/c: 6.6k
a/n: hiii everyone! I am in fact alive! I'm finally on break from school and this is just a lil something I wrote real quick bc I've been in the holiday spirit since before October even ended hehehe :) Anyway, thank u to the actual loml @undrthelights for beta reading and finding the perfect pics!! It's nice to be back! Please leave a comment letting me know if you liked it, support is what keeps writers going!! Love u all!!
my masterlist
Your hips grind a little harder against his thigh, a soft sight falling from your lips as he licks and sucks at the spot under your ear that drives you absolutely wild. “I don't think I can be quiet” you whisper, gasping softly when his tongue swipes over your pulse. "You can" he mumbles against the side of your neck, the vibrations of his voice and his warm breath against your skin sending burning hot sparks down your spine. “You can do whatever I ask, can’t you baby?”
You can hear them downstairs, muffled sounds of Joel and several other of your family members talking and laughing while they sip on the fancy whiskey that your dad was saving for the occasion. You opted out of it, quickly taking up the offer of the first hour or two of alone time you’ve had since you arrived at your parents house two days ago instead. You figured Joel could use the time too, talking with your dad and uncles and cousins about whatever men talk about when they’re doing whiskey tasting in the mancave of a basement.
You managed to avoid getting roped into watching a shitty Hallmark Christmas movie with the rest of your family or helping them prep for the big dinner tomorrow. After successfully sneaking away to your old childhood bedroom that’s now redecorated as a simple guest room, you're left with nothing to do besides relax. First up was a long shower with the water so hot you nearly scalded your skin, and now you’re cozied up in bed, nose buried deep in the middle of your book while the rest of the house buzzed with muted background noise.
Time passes without you noticing, too engrossed in your book to keep track, but eventually the bedroom door creaks open, pulling you back to reality. You’re about to tell off whoever is at the door for interrupting you, but you immediately soften when Joel slips inside, quietly closing the door behind him.
He looks so sweet, wrapped up in a thick dark brown sweater, his curls flopping over his forehead, a light dusting of pink on his cheeks and the bridge of his nose with a lopsided smile. His eyes are soft, warm, and a bit glassy as he looks at you like you’re the best thing he ever did see.
"Think your dad is trying to kill me" he says, his words slurring just a bit as he crosses the room over to the bed.
You giggle, watching him plop down on the bed on his back, his head rolling over to look at you, "Are you surprised? He does this to you every year."
It's true, every holiday at your parents house, your dad insists on the whiskey "tasting", which is really just him pouring heavy handed shots and glasses and seeing who's going to be the last one to tap out. Usually it's just him and his brothers in the end, hashing out some decades old sibling rivalry in the form of a drinking contest. And ever since the first time you brought Joel home for the holiday five years ago, your father has insisted on dragging him down there and challenging him too.
The first year was the worst with Joel not heeding any of your warnings about how much liquor your dad would actually push on him. Joel was so sick by the end of the night that he made best friends with the toilet and passed out on the couch, then spent most of the next morning with a massive hangover, apologizing profusely to your dad about it who just laughed and said that he can try again next year.
Thankfully, Joel knows his limits now and has made peace with the fact that he'll never beat your dad at his own game. It doesn't mean that the challenge doesn't still stand.
"No" he mumbles, a dopey smile spreading across his face, "Guess I jus' never expect him to pour shots big enough to knock out a horse"
"How many did you have this time?" You ask, bookmarking your place in the book before setting it aside, sitting up a little straighter and adjusting the pillows behind your back.
"Jus' three."
"Oh, so you are just a lightweight then?"
"I'm not a fuckin' lightweight" he grumbles with a dramatic pout.
You laugh as you turn to lay on your side, propping yourself up on your elbow. Your hand instinctively falls to his hair, a small content sigh falling from his lips as your fingertips skate across his hairline and glide through his soft curls. scooting closer to him and reaching down to run your fingers through his hair, "Okay, baby" you hum, smiling when his eyes fall shut as your nails gently scratch his scalp, "If you say so."
Joel melts under your touch, like a cat basking in the sun, a lazy little grin on his face and a dreamy, far off look in his eyes. His face is still flushed, the tips of his ears and the tops of his cheeks a rosy shade of pink, his lips slightly parted, a few more stray curls falling across his forehead. He looks absolutely gorgeous, and the soft, tender look in his eyes when he finally looks back up at you melts you from the inside out.
You cup the side of his face in your hand and ;ean in to press a lingering kiss to his forehead. "You're so cute when you're drunk" you murmur, moving kissing his cheek.
"M'not drunk"
You pull back to look him in the eye, smiling, "Sure you're not"
"I'm not" he whines, "M'just a lil' tipsy."
"Alright" you hum, pressing a quick kiss to his pouty lips.
Joel follows your mouth with the softest whine when you start to pull back, his large hand cupping the back of your head, holding you still while he kisses you, needy, but still so sweet. The taste of whiskey is heavy on his tongue as it slides against yours, a soft, satisfied noise rumbling in his chest when you part your lips further, kissing him deeper.
When he finally lets you break the kiss, you're left just a little breathless and dazed, a giddy feeling swirling low in your belly. His pupils are blown when he looks up at you, his lips spit slick and plump, a lopsided smile on his face. He turns a little more on his side facing you, his fingers fiddling with the hem of your t-shirt until his hand slips easily underneath like it was meant to be there. The warmth of his palm smoothing up and down the curve of your spine is soothing, his fingers gently tracing over your ribs and the dip of your waist, the slight scratch of his calluses over your skin sending a shiver down your spine.
His eyes are half-lidded as he stares at your lips, licking his own. Realistically, you knew exactly what was going to happen as soon as he entered the bedroom. You know how he gets when he's like this, soft, sweet, and incredibly needy. With all the amount of times he tugged you into a bar bathroom after he's had a few, or when Tommy drops him off after a night out and he's already halfway to undressing you before the front door even shuts. You know he's trouble like this, but you can never deny him when he's looking at you like that, like you're the only thing he needs, the only thing he's ever needed.
He leans in to kiss you again, slow and sweet, his fingers splaying on your lower back and keeping you close. His mouth moves languidly against yours, the tip of his tongue tracing your bottle lip and his teeth sinking in the slightest bit to nip and tug, pulling a desperate little sound out from the back of your throat.
He sighs at the small sound and starts to lean into you more, using his weight to roll you over until you're flat on your back with him hovering above you, his forearms on either side of your head with his knees bracketing your hips. The kisses grow hungrier, wetter, more insistent, his mouth moving against yours like he's trying to breathe the very air from your lungs.
He shifts a bit and you moan softly into his mouth when his thigh slots between yours, the firm muscle of his thigh pushing right up against the apex of your thighs, the perfect amount of pressure to make heat spark and smolder in your belly. He does it again, rocking his thigh up against you just a little harder, swallowing the needy whimper that you let out, the heat and friction making you ache.
You can’t help but grind against his thigh, the seam of your sweatpants pressing against the damp spot that’s already forming on your panties and digging into your clit just right. You’re chasing the growing pleasure, the firmness of his thigh and the intoxicating taste of whiskey on his soft lips mixed with the faint trace of his peppermint toothpaste. You’d give anything to have him, for him to take you, but the sounds of laughter and chatter coming from downstairs is a rude reminder of reality.
"Joel" you warn with absolutely no heat in your voice, his lips grazing the sensitive spot under your ear, "We can't.”
He ignores you for a beat, crashing his lips back on yours and kissing you until he needs to come up for air.
"We can" he says, his voice gravelly and thick with want, the deep rumble vibrating in his chest. "We're bein' real quiet"
His lips trail across the line of your jaw and up your cheek before landing on your mouth again. The slow, lazy drag of his tongue against yours makes you throb, another soft when escaping you and the muscles in your legs and stomach tightening as you make no effort to stop moving against his thigh.
“Everyone will hear us” you try feebly, knowing it’s futile.
Joel smirks against your lips, the bastard. “Nah. I’ll be quiet.”
You know he's a damn liar and a bad one at that. In what world could you be quiet with his hands and mouth on you, with his thick cock buried deep inside you, stretching you out and filling you up so good that your toes curl? And in what world could he be quiet, not running his mouth about how good you feel, how pretty you look stuffed full of him, how well you take him. You know exactly how it'll go, if the numerous failed previous attempts are anything to go by.
But then his lips are on the side of your neck, and you're forgetting why it matters. You let your eyes fall shut as his lips press gentle, wet kisses up and down the column of your throat, the stubble on his cheeks and chin scratching and tickling in the best way. You're quickly forgetting why this was a bad idea to begin with.
Your hips grind a little harder against his thigh, a soft sight falling from your lips as he licks and sucks at the spot under your ear that drives you absolutely wild. “I don't think I can,” you whisper, gasping softly when his tongue swipes over your pulse point.
"You can" he mumbles against the side of your neck, the vibrations of his voice and his warm breath against your skin sending burning hot sparks down your spine. “You can do whatever I ask, can’t you baby?”
“I don’t- oh…”
The rest of your sentence dies on the tip of your tongue as he pushes his thigh against you, grinding it up against your core in a way that has your head spinning and toes curling, the pleasure sharp and delicious as it melts into your veins.
“That’s right” he murmurs, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth. “You’ll do whatever I say, huh?”
There’s a pause and when you open your eyes, his are dark, his pupils blown wide, the deep brown nearly swallowed whole. His hair is tousled and curlier than ever, a few loose strands hanging in his face. His lips are slightly parted, swollen, red, and sick and shiny from your kisses. He’s an absolute sight and you can’t help but nod, eager to do whatever he wants, whatever he asks, because god it’s always worth it.
His eyes crinkle a bit at the corners and the lopsided smirk on his face widens. He’s the fucking devil.
Just the thought of him taking you with the rest of the house full of your extended family is making your veins buzz, excitement bubbling low in your belly. But you're well aware of just how thin the walls are and how nosy some members of your family are and you can't fathom how awkward it would be to come down for breakfast the next morning after the whole house heard you getting absolutely railed.
"It’ll be okay" he assures, reading your thoughts, his hands slipping under your shirt again. The fabric bunches up over his wrists as he slides his palms up your torso to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples. "M’not gonna let anyone else hear you. Just me."
Fuck.
His simple words are enough to convince you, not that you needed much convincing in the first place. He had you wrapped around his finger and him around yours, and there was no way you were going to say no to what you know will come next. A jolt of electricity shoots down your spine and settles hot and heavy in the pit of your stomach. Your resolve breaks, your legs falling open further, letting him get even closer, and Joel lets out a soft, happy noise against your mouth.
"Atta girl" he hums, his voice rough and deep, "So good for me, aren't ya baby?"
"Always" you manage to reply, the word more of a sigh as you arch your back, his thumb teasing your nipple until it's pebbled and hard.
He gives into you easily, tugging your shirt up and over your head. His mouth lands on your chest as soon as it’s exposed, immediately licking and kissing across your collarbones and the swell of your breast. He noses along the valley between them, the coarse hair of his beard tickling your skin and making you giggle. You can feel him grinning against your skin before he nips and sucks at the supple flesh until a red mark rises to the surface.
You squirm beneath him, his leg still nestled perfectly between yours and pressing against you every time he shifts. The pressure is building in your gut, your clit aching and throbbing. The feeling is almost too much with his hot wet mouth now wrapped around your nipple, his tongue swirling around the stiff peak making it harder and harder for you to keep quiet.
“Joel,” you hiss, the word half warning and half plea.
“Hush, baby” he mumbles against your skin. His fingers replace his mouth, pinching and teasing your swollen, spit-slick nipple as he kisses across your chest to lavish your other nipple with the same attention.
“Gotta be quiet, remember?” he says when he pulls back, releasing your nipple with a wet pop. “Unless you want everyone hearin’ ya”
You open your mouth to say something in protest, to tell him that he’s making things a lot harder right now, but then he starts moving, sliding down the bed and the words die in your throat. The look he gives you as he settles on his stomach between your thighs is sinful, his eyes dark and mischievous, his lips pulled up into a smirk.
He hooks his fingers in the waistband of your sweats, slowly pulling them along with your panties down your legs, leaving you completely bare. Your stomach swoops at the sight of his eyes trained to your center and your thighs twitch, wanting to snap shut and hide. But his hands on both of your thighs keep you spread open for him. You swallow thickly, your breath catching in your throat, the anticipation building in the pit of your belly as your slick starts to drip down the cleft of your ass.
Joel’s mouth falls open slightly, a shaky breath escaping him. “Fuck, baby” he sighs, tongue darting out to lick his cherry red lips, his eyes glazing over. A small, content smile tugs at the corners of your mouth, a swell of pride blossoming in your chest. He looks wrecked, like a starving man eyeing his first meal, and the way he's looking at you so intently, like you're the best thing he's ever seen, the thing that's kept him alive all these years, is making your heart pound almost painfully in your chest.
“Fucking gorgeous,” he praises, his hand running along the inside of your thigh. “And all mine.”
Like he can’t wait another second, he’s leaning in and licking a long, wet stripe up your center, dragging his tongue through your folds from your leaking hole to your swollen, needy clit. The feeling of his tongue on you pulls a soft, broken sound from you. You clap your hand over your mouth as your head spins, a rush of pleasure washing over you making the muscles in your thighs and stomach twitch and flex.
He does it again and again, and every time his tongue flicks over the swollen bud, you let out a soft whine that sounds far too loud in the otherwise quiet room.
He groans against you, his mouth already wet and messy as he laps at your pussy like he's starving for it, like he would die without tasting you. His eyes are locked on yours, the look in them so dark and primal that it makes your walls clench, more slick freely leaking out of you and onto his tongue. He laps it up happily, his fingers digging into your hips, holding you steady as his mouth works your clit.
He lets out a quiet, breathy moan when you slide your hand through his hair once again, your fingers tangling in and pulling on the soft brown strands. His eyes flutter shut, a shuddery exhale falling from his parted lips, and the feeling of his warm breath fanning over your wet, sensitive center has you stifling another high pitched whimper.
You roll your hips up against his face, desperate for more, and he gets the hint, the flat of his tongue swiping up through your folds a few more times before he dips it into your entrance, pushing in and out while his nose nudges at your clit. You're writhing beneath him, tugging at his hair, trying so hard to be quiet but failing miserably, soft, desperate little noises pouring out of your mouth. You know he's loving it too, making no effort to keep your noises at bay, not giving a single fuck about who might hear.
He moans against your cunt, the vibrations making you jolt, your hips rolling up to meet him. You're panting, the hand that isn't buried in his hair gripping the sheets tight enough that your knuckles turn white, and your back arches when his tongue fucks in and out of you faster, rougher.
"Joel, fuck" you gasp, "I- I'm-
He growls, the sound muffled by your pussy, the vibrations and the feeling of his stubble dragging along your inner thighs making your toes curl, the familiar coil in your belly tightening, your thighs trembling.
He doubles down, bringing a hand between your legs to replace his tongue with two thick fingers sinking into you and curling up against that spot inside you that has you seeing stars, his tongue circling your clit while his fingers pump in and out of you, his mouth and hand working in tandem to pull you apart.
"Fuck, I'm close" you whimper, his fingers crooking against that spot inside of you, sending white hot fire coursing through your veins as your slick leaks down his fingers and into his palm like hot honey.
He hums, sucking your clit between his lips, and your legs clamp around his head, your hand tightening in his hair as your orgasm crashes over you, your back arching off the mattress, a muffled, broken moan spilling out from behind your hand. He fucks you through it, his tongue flattening out against your clit while the tips of his fingers rub against that sweet spot inside of you, sending more sparks of pleasure tingling up and down your spine.
When it's too much, when the sensitivity makes tears prick in the corners of your eyes, you make a feeble attempt to push him away. He pulls back, sitting up on his knees, his chin and cheeks wet with your slick, his pupils blown so wide that the brown is almost completely swallowed up by black. He stares at you, his gaze so heavy and intense that it makes another shiver run down your spine.
"You're not being very quiet" he smirks as he moves off the bed to stand up.
You roll your eyes, still coming down from the aftershocks, your thighs quivering, "Yeah, no shit" you mutter, propping yourself up on your elbows.
He chuckles as he pulls off his sweater and the t-shirt underneath it before he starts unbuckling his belt and working on his jeans. You sit up, shuffling closer to the edge of the bed, reaching out and batting his hands away, taking over and quickly unfastening the button and pulling the zipper down.
He doesn't protest, letting you push his jeans and boxers down his legs until he kicks them all the way off. Your mouth waters at the sight of his thick, hard cock hanging heavy between his legs, flushed a deep red with slippery precum beading at the tip. You reach out, wrapping your hand around the base and taking a moment or two to revel in the familiar weight and warmth of him in your hand.
He shudders, a low moan rumbling in his chest, his eyes slipping shut as his hand moves to cup the back of your head. He watches you intently as you take your time, lazily stroking him, rubbing the pad of your thumb over the leaking tip and tracing the throbbing veins that run along the sides. His breathing grows heavy, his jaw clenching and his stomach muscles twitching as he tries so hard not to buck his hips up into the loose circle of your fist.
"C'mon, sweetheart" he pleads, the words leaving his mouth as a low, breathless groan, "Get me all nice and wet for you."
He doesn't have to ask twice. You lean forward and you dart your tongue out to lap up the bead of precum, humming at the salty, bitter taste of it, swirling the flat of your tongue over the head of his cock, your hand pumping the rest of his shaft. His breath catches in his throat, a stuttered curse falling from his lips when you dip your tongue into the slit, teasing more precum out.
He groans, his grip on the back of your head tightening, urging you to take him into the warm, wet heat of your mouth. You sink down, flattening your tongue and taking him all the way until he hits the back of your throat, the tip of his cock brushing against the roof of your mouth. You breathe through your nose, hollowing your cheeks, swallowing around him, and the deep, guttural groan that he lets out has you squirming, slick leaking out of your cunt and onto the sheets below.
"There ya go" he pants, his head lolling back, "Oh, baby, that's it. S'fuckin' perfect."
You pull off, a string of spit and precum connecting his cock to your bottom lip, and you look up at him through your lashes.
"Need to be quiet" you remind him, "Or else I'll stop"
He lets out a shaky breath and nods, swallowing hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. He's not used to keeping quiet, not used to not telling you how good you feel, not used to not begging you to let him cum in that low, raspy tone that never fails to make you weak.
"I'll be good," he whispers, breathless and needy. "Promise."
Your stomach swoops at his words, arousal burning bright in your belly. Unable to stay away for much longer, you lean forward, pressing a soft kiss to the head of his cock. His hips jerk, another drop of precum leaking out. You lick it up, swirling your tongue around the sensitive, swollen tip before sinking down again. You take him into the wet heat of your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and swallowing around him, bobbing your head slowly and steadily.
He bites his lip hard enough to draw blood trying with all his might to keep his noises in as you drool all over his cock. He can't take his eyes off you, watching the way he disappears into the slick heat of your mouth. You look so pretty with your lips wrapped around him, spit dripping down his cock and leaking out the corners of your mouth while your eyes water as you take him as far as you can.
You take him deeper, and you swallow, your throat convulsing around him, and the way his whole body shudders makes you smile, proud of the effect you have on him. He's so big and thick, and you both know you can't fit him all the way down your throat, but seeing you try your best is enough to make his thighs start to shake.
His cock hits the back of your throat again and again, the tip dipping into the soft, warm, tight space, and Joel's breathing is getting heavier and faster, his jaw clenched and his eyebrows knitted together.
"Shit" he grits out under his breath, "That's it, sweetheart. That's fuckin' it."
The praise goes straight between your legs, a fresh wave of slick leaking out of you and it's too tempting to resist, so you slip your hand between your thighs and rub circles around your clit, moaning softly around his cock.
He hisses, his eyes snapping down, watching your hand disappear between your legs.
"Are you touchin' yourself?" he asks, the words coming out rough and choked, his eyebrows raised.
You nod, sliding a finger into yourself, and you pull off his cock, panting, a thin strand of spit connecting the head to your bottom lip.
"Can't help it" you whine pathetically, your voice already raspy from how far his cock had been down your throat.
Joel groans, his dick twitching, and he's had enough. He takes a step back, and you let go, a little confused and worried that you've done something wrong. But he just takes hold of your arms and yanks you off the bed, his strong hands easily manhandling you, and then he's pushing you, turning you around and bending you over the side of the mattress.
"Oh" you breathe out, bracing yourself on your forearms, arching your back, sticking your ass up in the air.
You don't have to wait long for him to move. His hand is smoothing over your ass, the other one guiding his cock towards your sopping cunt. He teases the tip between your folds, spreading your slick and dragging his head over your swollen clit a few times before lining himself up and sinking in.
You bite down on the inside of your cheek to keep quiet, letting out a stuttering breath, the familiar, delicious burn of his thick cock stretching you out making your eyes roll back into your head. You've made peace with the face that you'll never be used to his size. It'll always be too much, the feeling of him pushing into, forcing your walls to make room for him will always make you clench and shiver.
He's got his hands on your hips, holding you steady as he bottoms out, his hips flush with the curve of your ass with the tip of his cock pressed against your cervix. He holds himself there for a moment, both of you adjusting to the feeling, and you're trying so hard not to moan, to keep your noises muffled by the mattress, and you know Joel's struggling too, his jaw clenched tight and his brow furrowed.
"Good girl" he whispers, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips, "Taking my cock so well, aren't ya?"
You nod, whimpering, your fingers twisting in the sheets.
He pulls back and thrusts back in, setting a steady, slow rhythm, the wet slide of his cock making the most obscene sounds. And it's driving you crazy, the need to let out loud, your chest burning with the effort of keeping your noises in. He keeps his pace slow, not wanting to make more noise with his hips snapping against your ass. It’s nearly tortuous though, the drag of his cock in and out of you so slow that you can feel every ridge as he takes his sweet time. You can only handle it for a few moments before the tingling hints of pain from the stretch subside and the burning need for him to fuck you senseless takes over.
"Joel" you whine, "Faster, please."
He leans over you, his front pressed against your back, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. "You're not gonna stay quiet if I do," he says, his voice deep and gravelly, "Just take what I give you, sweetheart."
You're so worked up, the slow pace makes you even more desperate for him, and you can't help it, you need more, and you reach a hand back and grab his hip, urging him to speed up.
"I-I'll try" you promise, "Please, just- Just fuck me, Joel, please"
He hesitates, but the way you're squirming beneath him is so tempting, and the way his cock is throbbing and dripping inside of you is telling him that he needs more too.
Before you can say anything else, he's pulling back, the thick, heavy weight of him sliding out of you. You whimper at sudden empty feeling but you don't have time to complain before he's flipping you over onto your back and scooting you up the bed before climbing on top of you. You can’t help but notice how big he is, the muscles flexing smoothly in his strong arms that box you in as he hovers above you, nearly encompassing your entire body underneath his. His mouth is on yours before you can even blink, his tongue slipping past your lips and kissing you like his life depends on it.
He settles between your legs, his hips nestled in the cradle of your thighs, his cock dragging along your clit again warm and heavy, and you gasp, the sound swallowed by his mouth. You're squirming again, desperate to feel him stretch you out more and he takes mercy on you, reaching between your bodies and grabbing the base of his cock, guiding the thick head towards your entrance.
"Gotta be quiet, baby" he warns, his eyes boring into yours as he looks down at you. "Those pretty noises are just for me, yeah? Can't have anyone hearin' 'em."
You nod frantically and the next second he's pushing in, the fat head of his cock forcing its way into you and bottoming out in one smooth motion. You let out a gasp that's definitely too loud but Joel is quick to remedy it, his hand coming up to cover your mouth, his fingers splaying across your cheek.
"Shh" he shushes you, his hips rolling, the slow, lazy drag of his cock against your walls making you clench around him. Your eyes roll back, your back arching as his hand stops all the whiny little sounds you can't help but make. He continues to fuck you slow and deep, his cock sliding in and out of your soaking wet cunt, the filthy sounds of skin slapping against skin echoing softly in the room.
You can't take your eyes off him, watching his eyes squeeze shut, the muscles in his arms and shoulders flexing as he fucks you, his brows knitted together and his teeth sunk into his bottom lip. He looks beautiful like this, sweat glistening on his skin, his jaw tight, and his eyes shut tight, his mouth hanging open with his breaths coming out in soft, barely audible pants.
"Mmm" he hums, his hips picking up speed, his cock pushing impossibly deeper. "You feel so fuckin' good, baby. Fuck."
You reflexively clench around him and a shudder runs through his whole body.
"Gettin' real tight" he pants, "Tryna milk the cum right outta me, huh? Tryna make me fill up that pretty pussy?"
You whimper into his palm, your pussy fluttering, a fresh wave of slick coating his cock, and he groans, his hips picking up speed.
"S'what you want?" he asks in a hushed tone, his hand still pressed firmly over your mouth. "You want me to fill you up? Make a mess of that pretty pussy? Breed you until you're fuckin' stuffed, baby girl?"
Your back arches off the bed, the coil in your belly so tight that you think you might pass out. He's rambling, his thrusts losing rhythm, his breathing getting ragged and choppy, his chest heaving and his thighs shaking.
"That's it" he coaxes when you tighten around him even more, "Can feel it, can feel how close you are. Go on, baby, cum on my cock. Wanna feel that tight, wet cunt cum all over my cock, please, baby."
His hips snap forward, his cock pushing deep into you, the tip rubbing against the spongy spot deep inside you that makes the coil in your belly finally snap. Your eyes roll back, a muffled, broken moan falling from your lips as your entire body convulses, your orgasm washing over you and making your toes curl as your walls flutter around his cock buried to the hilt inside of you.
Joel lets out a deep, low groan, his hips stuttering as he fucks you through your orgasm. His hand slips away from your mouth so he can grip your hips with both hands, his fingers digging into the soft flesh, holding you in place so he can chase after his own release. His chest is tight as he holds in his grunts and groans, but it’s barely any use with the lewd noises that fill the room as your pussy gushes around him, your slick leaking past the tight seal of your walls around him and dripping down to his balls.
"Oh, shit, baby. Christ,” he chokes out, his stomach muscles clenching as his hips slam into yours, his cock pushing impossibly deeper and harder. “Keep makin’ a mess, keep lettin’ me feel it. That’s it. Fuckin’ hell.”
You can feel his cock starting to throb inside of you and you know he’s close. And you can’t stop the words from leaving your mouth, the need to let him know just how good he’s making you feel is destroying any bit of common sense.
“Want you to fill me up,” you whine. “Please, Joel, wanna feel it.”
That’s all it takes. His jaw clenches, his nose scrunching as his eyes squeeze shut. His cock twitches and pulses as he buries himself as deep as he can get before spilling into, filling you with thick, hot ropes of his cum. His hips jerking and stuttering d you clench around him, squeezing and milking him for everything he has while he buries his face in the crook of your neck, muffling his broken, ragged moans against your skin.
"So good,” he whimpers. “Fuckin’ perfect.”
The praise goes straight between your legs and you wrap your arm around his shoulders, trying to pull him closer. He lifts his head, his palm resting on your cheek as he lifts his head and presses his lips against yours, kissing you languidly. His hips rock back and forth lazily, pushing his cum in as deep as he can get it. You melt into the bed underneath him, the only things keeping you tethered to the earth being your fingers combing through his hair and your legs tightening around his waist.
When he finally pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours, and you're both left panting, trying to catch your breath. You listen to the muffled sounds of people downstairs, the movie playing and their drunken voices filtering in through the door, and Joel must be thinking the same thing because he chuckles.
"Well" he says, his thumb rubbing back and forth over your cheekbone, "I don't think anyone heard us."
"You better hope they didn't" you retort, a grin on your face. Joel rolls his eyes. "That's a weird way to say thank you" he teases. You start to laugh, but the sound dies in your throat, morphing to a whimper instead when he starts pulling out his softening cock.
"Joel" you whine, but he doesn't stop. "Joel, please. It's-"
He's not listening, he's too focused on the way his cock looks when he pulls out. The tip slips out of you, and the rest follows, and his eyes widen as he watches a string of thick, sticky cum stretch from the tip of his cock to your cunt. It breaks, falling to your thigh, and he licks his lips. He can't tear his eyes away, watching the way your cunt flutters, and his cum starts to drip out, running down your slit, the obscene sight making Joel's spent cock twitch.
"Shit" he mutters under his breath, "Ain't that a pretty picture."
He reaches down, dragging a finger through the mess of cum and slick and gathering it on his finger before pushing it back into your cunt. You clench around the digit before he sighs and pulls it back out.
"Gonna be leaking all day tomorrow" he murmurs, almost to himself.
You whimper, the thought of having him dripping out of you all day like that has renewed arousal already seeping into your veins.
“It’s okay” he assures you, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll take care ya. Clean you up and put my cock back in right where it belongs, how’s that sound, hm?”
You sigh, nodding, a wave of fatigue washing over you. “Sounds perfect,” you agree.
You watch as he climbs off of you and starts to move, but a sudden, sharp sound of knuckles knocking on the other side of the bedroom door makes you both freeze.
“You two are fucking disgusting!” the voice of your cousin calls out, accompanied by the sound of a couple other people giggling and laughing. ���Put some goddamn clothes on and get down here!”
You and Joel exchange glances, his eyes wide and apologetic, his cheeks burning bright red as you give him a look that says I told you so.
“Alright, alright, we’re coming” he yells back.
“We’re coming! Oh, yeah we’re coming!” another voice teases, the sound of everyone bursting out laughing quickly follows.
“We’re never doing that again” Joel mutters and you can’t help but chuckle.
“Yeah right. Keep telling yourself that”
Thank you for reading!!! Plsss let me know if you enjoyed hehehe
#joel miller smut#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x you#joel miller one shot#joel miller fic#the last of us#tlou fic#joel miller#pedro pascal characters
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Empty Promises ⥃ Dark!Aemond Targaryen
Summary: the closeness between you and your twin brother doesn’t go unnoticed by your uncle, but your bond will shatter when he is betrothed to your cousin, lightening a new path for Aemond to get his revenge.
Warnings: 18+ MDNI!!!! Dark!Aemond, manipulation, DUB CON KIND OF? main pairing: Aemond x Strong!reader (Rhaenyra’s daughter/Jace’s twin), side pairing: Jace x twin!reader (They’ll end pretty quickly lol), JACE AND READER ARE 18!! targcest, incest, mentions of pregnancy, p in v sex, breeding, rough sex, degradation, English isn’t my first language<3
Word count: 4.6k+
A/n: so heheh I received this ask and rambled about it to beloved @anjelicawrites and she helped me with this one shot!!! Tell me what you think about this one shot, lovies, and don’t forget to reblog and comment!!!
“Mm, maybe we should keep our distance during our stay here,” Jace mumbles against your lips, his arms wrapped around your waist as he corners you to a wall, “We might get caught,”
“But why? Mother said it herself that we are to be betrothed soon! It would not raise any suspicions.” You try to lean down for another kiss, but he pulls back a little, his warm hand resting on your cheek, “Besides, we have already done more than just kissing, yet I am still a maiden!”
“That you are, beloved sister,” he presses a quick kiss to your cheek, backing away from you as soon as he hears a rush of footsteps in your direction, “Do not pout.”
“I’m not pouting!” you scoff, looking away from him as you cross your arms over your chest. “But I am displeased with you! You promised we would be wed soon and that we ought to wait until we are husband and wife to explore… different sides of our companionship.”
“Because tainting your purity is the last thing I want, my love,” he reaches to loop your arm through his, kissing the side of your head before he looks at Luke who jogs toward you, “What is it you want, Luke? Can’t you see I’m busy?”
“Busy doing what? Annoying our sister?” Luke looks between the two of you, raising his eyebrows as he sees your flushed face and Jace’s swollen lips, “Or perhaps being inappropriate with our sister—“
“Mind your tongue, Luke,” you say, tightening your arm around Jace’s, looking at him pleadingly, knowing your younger brother’s big mouth that always gets you and your twin in trouble, “Do not make me mad, it will not end well for you.”
“I wish mother would betroth you two already, it is awfully obvious how… involved you are with each other,” Luke shrugs, walking ahead of you, forcing you and your brother to join him, “You must be careful, this place has eyes and ears and they are already looking at us with disgust.”
“Lucerys,” you sigh, resting your head on Jace’s shoulder, smiling softly when he kisses your forehead, his lips lingering on your forehead too long for the court’s liking, “Don’t let them win, little brother. Do not give them a chance to belittle us, we are Princess Rhaenyra’s children. Silver-haired or not, we have royal blood surging in our hearts.”
“She is correct,” Jace cups your cheek in his hand, his warm eyes looking into yours — identical to his — before he leans down to whisper against your lips, “We might not have the hair, but we own the name, and the costumes.”
“That is right,” you press a quick kiss to his lips grinning when he does not look away from you, groaning when Luke makes a gagging sound. You look at your younger brother, raising your eyebrows at his visibly disgusted expression, “One day, you will hold such affection for a lady, and we shall get to tease you for it endlessly!”
“I doubt we would need to wait for long, dear sister,” Jace smiles, his hand coming to rest on your waist, gently squeezing you before he resumes talking, “Have you noticed how flushed he gets when Rhaena talks to him—“
“Nephews.”
There they are.
The infamous Dragon princes, walk with their heads held high and chin tilted up as they both stare down at the three of you over their noses.
Aegon is just as you remember from years ago; he has unruly hair and a lazy smirk as he stares at the three of you.
Your younger uncle though, is much more put together; his hair is tied out of his face, neatly brushed and shining while he scans the entire hallway from one corner to the other, his gaze lingering on you and Jace’s linked arms.
“Niece,” Aemond says, his good eye solely focusing on you, ignoring the terrified faces of your brothers who try to play it cool without staring daggers at Aegon who tries to intimidate them by only smirking. The younger Targaryen brother, though, does not show how he feels up front, just cocking his head to the side as he starts talking, “How you have grown to a lady, dark hair and all.”
“Thank you, Uncle,” you reply, face as stoic as possible but soon the mask slips and you look at your twin brother and smile radiantly, enjoying how safe his arm feels around yours, “But it seems with all the years passing, your eye hasn’t grown back.”
“My, she’s got a mouth on her,” Aegon chuckles, running a hand through his tangled hair as he snickers at Aemond.
“Indeed she has,” Aemond says, stepping forward, closing the distance between you, and glancing at Jace who pulls you closer to him, his brown eyes meeting Aemond’s bright blue orb, “No wonder she has her dog running around her, sniffing and barking when threatened.”
“Easy, easy,” Aegon laughs, putting a hand on Jace’s chest when the dark-haired prince strides closer. Aegon holds him back, glancing at Luke who tries to appear brave while he trembles and looks between his siblings and uncles, “My brother is… too honest for his own good, nephew.”
“He is rude,” you whisper, chest heaving as Aemond leans even closer, towering over you as he raises a hand to your exposed neck, caressing the skin with the back of his fingers, until he reaches the neckline of your dress, slowly tracing the outline of the blue mark that is lightly visible.
“Hmmm,” Aemond’s eye drops to the mark before he drags his gaze up to your face, taking in your flustered expression, before he looks at Jacaerys, “It appears you are trying hard to get accustomed to Targaryen costumes, my Lord and Lady Strong. Such… proximity is seen as inappropriate in this castle. Mayhaps you have forgotten the rules of the king’s court.”
“Jace, don’t listen to him,” you sigh shakily, looking away from Aemond before tugging on Jace’s hand, stepping away from your uncles before you pull your twin brother away from them as well, cocking your head for Luke to follow your lead and back away from the blonde men, “Let us join our sisters for lunchen.”
“Yes, best to leave and make yourselves ready for tomorrow,” Aegon waves at the three of you as you walk to the opposite of the hallway, ignoring the older prince’s snickers, but Aemond’s gaze is too strong to turn a blind eye to it, especially with how hot the place he touched feels like.
“I am nervous,” you mumble against Jacaerys’ neck, tightening your arms around his middle as he hugs you back just as tightly, “Luke is distressed, he is frantic and I doubt he would be able to appear strong in front of the court and the Hand.”
“Mother has it under control, beautiful,” he whispers, sighing against the crown of your head as you both rest on the chaise in his chambers, empty plates on the desk in front of you, “Daemon will help her in the court today, do not worry.”
“Jacaerys,” you mumble, sitting straight to look into his eyes. “You promised we would wed after we strengthened Mother’s claim, and she agreed, but we are yet to be betrothed. Why? Why are we delaying such a happy union, brother?”
“We are not, my sweet,” he cups your face, closing his eyes to try and hide the annoyance that you can clearly hear in his tone, “We need to think of our family first, our lives and Mother’s inheritance are already a threat to our happiness. Do not forget about your duty to our family and the realm, you are a Princess.”
“That is irrelevant, Jacaerys,” you put some distance between the two of you before standing up to put on your gown, making sure the bruises and marks on your chest are fully covered beneath the fabric, “I know what I must do as a Velaryon Princess, but will it not make you happy to have me as your future queen?”
“I promised you since we were ten and one that, you are to be my wife when we grow older,” he replies, covering his face with his hands, “I intend to keep that promise one way or another. Now, put on your clothes and join us in the Throne room.”
You watch him leave after he fixes his coat, giving you space to finish lacing your gown as best as you can, brushing your hair so your Mother does not notice your disheveled appearance, and using a hair clip to pull the front of your hair back as the final touch.
With a sigh, you leave your twin’s room, walking gracefully downstairs to reach the throne room, passing ladies and lords who bow their heads and greet you, making your nervousness only grow worse by their stares.
The doors are open and you take your time while walking toward your family, greeting your now stepsister Baela with a radiant smile, conversing with her easily before you notice your grandmother and greet her as well.
The feeling of someone watching you makes the hair on the back of your head itch, and the heat of their gaze burns your skin and as soon as you turn around, the feeling is long gone, because your eyes lock with his good one almost immediately.
Just as the day before, you feel breathless beneath his eye, desperately hoping for him to look away and let you have a moment of peace before the Hand comes and once again questions your legitimacy.
Aemond does not look away, his stare is locked on yours or more specifically, looking at your gown where it is covering the bruise he touched before, a ghost of a smirk finding its way on his thin lips when he can not see the blue mark.
You turn around and join your brothers and family on the opposite side of the room, watching the Hand making his way to the Iron Throne, sitting on it, and observing the crowd.
You know how everything is going to happen; Vaemond Velaryon will question your brother’s legitimacy and by extension you and your twin brother as well. You are more than glad to feel Jace’s closeness throughout the exhausting trial, his hand on your waist as he tries to keep his anger at bay.
The room grows oddly silent when the doors are pushed open and your grandsire, The King, limps toward his throne slowly, the rotten side of his face covered by a golden mask. He sits in his rightful place, panting before he starts talking, demanding to know what is all the mess his family created.
Your grandmother is asked to give her own petition on behalf of your grandsire, and what she says makes your eyes grow wide, lips falling apart as you let out a shocked gasp before pulling your hand away from your brother’s grasp.
“As a matter of fact, Princess Rhaenyra has just informed me of her desire to marry her sons, Jace and Luke, to Lord Corlys’ granddaughters, Baela and Rhaena, a proposal which I heartedly agreed…”
Your lips tremble, and the world around you fades away as your teary eyes find Jace’s trembling lips, shushing you gently as you put more distance between, hiding behind Luke and Daemon.
You see your Mother’s bright smile as she turns to look at Jacaerys, but she catches a glimpse of you and sighs, lowering her gaze to the floor before she looks back at Rhaenys and nods at her.
You catch Aemond’s eye, realizing your interaction did not go unnoticed, but the ache and betrayal outweigh the utter humiliation you feel at the moment.
You do not pay attention for a second, lost between your own thoughts and the news of your brother’s betrothal to someone other than you until you see Daemon pulling his sword out and the next thing you knew is Lord Vaemond’s head on the floor.
You gasp eyes wide in terror as the tears finally fall down, but across the room, you see Aemond’s flushed cheeks as he drags his eye from the headless man on the floor to you, his bright iris shining with what could only assume lust and intrigue.
His gaze awakens something in you, something only Jacaerys used to do, but seeing your uncle flushed and breathless while his eye is solely focusing on your face has your heart pulsating more than before.
Without so much of a glance at your family, you bolt outside of the throne room, pushing people out of your way forcefully to move past the guards and leave the hall.
With your gown in your fists, you rush upstairs, tears running down your face as you hear your name being called by your twin brother, following you upstairs with haste, skipping a step or two to reach you before you run away once more.
“Please, sister, listen—“
“Listen to what?” You yell, turning around abruptly, digging your nails into your palms, “Listen to what, Jace? You were fooling me all this time, keeping at an arm’s length! Did you know about this?”
And the defeated face he makes is enough to answer your question.
“You did, did you not?” You chuckle in disbelief, resting your hand on your chest as you blink the tears away. Even the sight of him makes your heart clench in pain, “Waiting for marriage…what utter nonsense! Did you even love me or were you lying to my face this whole time just to secure a match for yourself?”
“Of course I love you! You are my sister!” He screams back, his hands falling limply next to his body, “I could not live with myself if I tainted your purity! Our lives are hanging on a thread because of our—“
“Because we are fucking bastards, I know that Jacaerys! But Mother promised us to each other, she told me, in fact—“ you laugh halfheartedly to cover up the sob that nearly made its way up your throat, “You said it yourself! We would marry one way or another, now you are telling me you did this for Mother. You told me you loved me.”
“I do! Just not enough to fight with our future queen over it!”
Your lips quiver, watching as the man you used to love turns into a stranger; you nearly gave yourself to him in one of the many nights that the desire got too strong, and he pushed you away just as he has done a hundred times.
“If I am to be king one day, I need a strong queen who will bring me power, not to make me appear weak,” Jace whispers, and that is your undoing. With a violent shake of your head, you grab your skirt in your hands and run upstairs, trying to hide your tears from the passing servants until you are safe in the confines of your own chambers.
You should not be ignoring everyone, not when with Daemon’s help, your mother managed to keep Luke’s inheritance in her grasp, but even the thought of your sweet sister Baela being betrothed to Jacaerys makes you nauseous.
Instead, you are crying on an abandoned balcony with no guards or people in sight, tightening the shawl around your shoulders as the cold breeze hits your heated cheeks.
There are many emotions running through your head now, and the more you spend time thinking about them the more you feel like throwing up. Did your brother really put on a mask to hide your mother’s intentions by whispering reassurances to you?
“You were dearly missed at the supper.”
You hear his voice, the deep soothing voice of his that cuts through the silence. You clean your nose with your napkin, biting the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from snapping at him.
“What do you want, Aemond?” You manage to say without your voice breaking, gazing off to the distance while your tears dry and new ones burn your eyes.
“Jurnegon rȳ nyke,” look at me, he says, patiently waiting for you to turn around, and when you do not, he sighs, one hand reaching to move your hair to your left shoulder, caressing your neck with his knuckles, “Don’t make me repeat myself, niece.”
“Leave me alone, Uncle!” you cry out, hair whipping into his face as soon as you turn around, pushing on his chest as you scream at him, “I am sick of you taunting me! I know how humiliating it was and how much you must have enjoyed watching me and my brother fall apart! Surely you have already jabbed him with your words, calling us bastards and our mother a whore!”
“Mind your tone—“ he grabs your wrists in his large palms, pulling you closer until your chest is pressed against his, and he takes his time observing your face — tears coating your cheeks, lips trembling with anger, the agony of betrayal evident on your face.
You try to wiggle out of his hold, digging your nails into the side of his wrists but he tightens his grip to keep you close while he lets go of one of your wrists to cup your chin with his palm, his thumb caressing your jaw.
The heat of his gaze is enough to blossom a new warmth in your chest; it is not unkind, not what you are used to. It is… welcoming, careful, as if he is afraid you would break in his hold.
“Shh,” he shushes you, cupping your cheek completely before he wipes a tear that threatens to fall from your lashes, “Nothing is worth your tears, certainly not your idiot brother.”
“Do not call him an idiot, I love him!”
“Does he love you just as much?” He shakes his head, catching another tear with the back of his fingers, wiping your cheek gently, “He hurt you, sweet girl.”
“He-he promised me—“ a sob breaks out, your throat burning as you try to explain. You know you should not, especially not to someone who openly despises you, but you can not stop yourself, not when his hands moves to round your waist, his face leaning closer as he looks deeply into your eyes, “We were to be betrothed, but he betrayed me, so did Mother!”
“What did they do?” He asks, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, “You can trust me, Tala,” Niece, he says and keeps you close, merging you into his arms, and you melt right there, looking up at him with watercolor eyes.
“She betrothed him to Baela,” you whisper, fisting the front of his doublet, holding on to the fabric tightly as you sob, but he does not let you hide your face from him, no, he stares deeply into your eyes, watching each tear fall on your wet cheeks. There is a dangerous glint in his only blue orb, as if he is stripping you naked of the mask you always put around him and his family — and to your surprise, you realize he has done that successfully and you have allowed him, “He lied to me that…”
“Go on, sweet girl, tell me what that bastard did to you.”
“We were involved with each other more than it’s deemed appropriate… but he never tainted my purity, always pushed me away and made me… he made me feel as if I did not rouse something in him anymore when he would tell me we ought to wait for marriage.”
“Idiot,” you frown at him, but gasp when he gently pushes your head to the side by cupping your jaw, making room for his face as he ghosts the tip of his nose over your neck and down to your shoulders, “How could he hold himself back while he could have you like this all day?”
“I-I don’t…” you trail off as soon as he presses his pink thin lips to the junction of your shoulder, nipping at the sensitive skin, “Aemond.”
“Oh, sweet girl, he did not love you,” he groans against your neck before he detaches himself from you, “He is a fucking fool, I would have never let you leave my bed if I had you.”
“What-what do you mean he didn’t love me?” You stutter, mind hazy and limbs shaking; only Jace used to have you like this, but the intense desire was not this strong even then.
“He loves the idea of controlling you, taking his pleasure then tossing you aside as soon as duty comes forward,” he straightens his back, looking down at you over the bridge of his nose, “He does not deserve you. The Seven knows I would have worshipped you in every corner of this Keep, nothing would have stopped me from showing you how loveable you are.”
He nods and leaves with his hands clasped on his back, leaving you alone once again with your thoughts and a furiously beating heart.
You do not know what possesses you as you take a path you have never thought you would: walking downstairs to one of the ground floors, taking the hallway on your left until you see the flicker of several candles. With the final step you take, you see him sitting on one of the chairs, his legs crossed as he reads a book.
Aemond’s hair is down, and he is only in his breeches and a white undershirt, but the smirk on his lips when his eye falls on you breaks his character.
“Niece,” he says, uncrossing his legs as he spreads them, his arms dangling from the sides of the chair, his eye running over your night attire being finally visible to his gaze, “To what do I owe the pleasure?” “I don’t… I don’t know why I am here…” you whisper, crossing the room until you are standing next to his chair, “I thought about what you said… did you mean it?”
“Every word,” he closes his book and drops it on the table in front of him before he reaches to grab your wrist and guide you between his legs, “I meant every word I said. Would you like me to prove them?”
“Yes,” you nod, reaching to pull your nightgown off but he stops you, pulling you down on his lap after turning you around, and spreading your legs over his. His hand goes under your shift, slowly yet firmly pressing his fingers against the dampened spot on your underwear, “Aemond.” “Shhh, sweet girl, voices echo in this chamber,” he whispers in your ear, pushing your underwear to the side before he runs the pad of his fingers against your pearl, enjoying how suddenly your legs clamp around his wrist, “You would not like if someone hears us, now, would you?”
You shake your head side to side, resting your head on his broad shoulder, tucking your face in his neck as he plays with your heat, rubbing the right places before he pushes a finger inside. You gasp, hiding your face more but he turns his head to look at you, his stare too intense to look away from which seems to please him beyond words.
“Did your idiot brother ever touch you like this?” he asks and shoves another finger inside, scissoring you open by curling and thrusting his digits deep inside your core, a deep frown forming on his face when you nod and arch your back.
Aemond fastens his pace, fucking you with a new rush of anger, his fingers curled and hitting the sweet spots inside you that have your legs shaking in a matter of a second.
“No one can give you the pleasure I give you,” he spits the words out, brushing his nose against yours aggressively, his pace matching his fury, “Kiss me, now.” You do not need any more convincing before you pull him down and crash your lips to his, moaning into his mouth as he brings you closer and closer to the edge of your pleasure. For a second you break the kiss, gasping for air but he doesn’t let you do so completely.
“I didn’t say you could stop, niece,” he kisses you after this, his lips devouring yours as you fall over the edge, your legs shaking and quivering as you gush over his fingers, coating them in your juices,
He finally breaks the kiss and rests his forehead on yours before he whispers, “Get on the bed, all fours.” You stand up with shaky legs, but he does not let you go too far before he reaches and pulls your nightgown over your head, stunning you with how quickly his attitude changes.
You, in all of your naity, have learned a thing or two from your twin brother, and you comply with your uncle’s commands and try to climb the bed, but Aemond’s mind has changed already.
He stands behind you, pushing you down on the edge of the bed with your legs dangling and him pressing his hips into your backside as he pulls your underwear down, revealing your glistening cunt to his hungry eye.
With one hand on your shoulder blades, he presses you down on the mattress, cock already out of his breeches and standing proudly against his covered abdomen.
“Fucking gods,” he groans deeply, the sound coming from the depth of his chest as he presses his cock into you, breaching your maidenhead inch by inch, “See, sweetling? Your brother is a moron because no man can keep away from a tight cunt like this.”
You whine, the wetness is enough to let him glide inside you with ease, filling you up and stretching your poor untouched walls out. He is much bigger than you could ever imagine, he is certainly bigger than your brother even though you have never felt him inside you.
Aemond’s starting pace is bruising, brutal even. He is fucking his frustration away, making you cry out with each delicious stroke, pulling his cock out until the red weeping tip is engulfed by your walls before he snaps his hips into the globes of your ass.
“Jace did not want you, niece,” he bends down over your back, his chest pressed into yours as he drives his cock in and out of you quickly, hammering himself in your sweet cunt, “I want you, you are mine. Your brother took my eye, now I take his sister. An eye for an eye.”
You can not argue back, not when his cock is nudging every pleasure points deep inside your core, making your head turn into a puddle. You should be embarrassed, your Mother would be furious if she found out, but he is giving you something Jace had denied you for so long, and the sheer euphoric feeling you are getting is enough to make you empty your head of any thoughts — all you can think about is him, your uncle, your devious handsome uncle you have been warned to keep away.
“Do you know what that means?” he asks, biting your earlobe as he somehow picks up his pace, thrusting himself inside you before he keeps himself pressed against you, circling his hips to drive himself deeper, “I will give you my seed from this day on until I am sure you are with child; a precious Targaryen heir. Then I will make him the king after me, and you, my beloved niece, will kill your family and rule the realm with me and our child.”
You moan loudly, walls clenching tightly around his girth as you reach your peak and that is enough to send him to his high as well; he comes inside you, dumping his warm dragonseed deep inside your womb.
“We shall rule together, niece, and that is a promise I intend to keep.”
#aemond targaryen#ewan mitchell#rue writes✍️#aemond x reader#prince aemond#aemond targaryen smut#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond smut#aemond targaryen x you#aemond x you#jace velaryon x reader#hotd smut#aemond fanfiction
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Unexpected
Summary: Astarion has barely ever considered starting a family with you in the old-fashioned way, but an unexpected conversation might just trigger that urge.
Pairing: Astarion x femalex!Tav
Warnings: 18+. Astarion's POV. Breeding kink. Creampie. P in V sex. Body worship. Vampire bite. Blood drinking. Precum.
Word count: 2.2k
As far as Astarion was concerned, babes were merely drool and poop dispensers.
He could definitely do without having to be around one for more than the strictly necessary.
And today was one of those days.
You had offered to look after one of your friend's toddler, but he had somehow been left on duty as you worked around the kitchen.
Typical.
He glared at the tiny human that stood on his thighs, wobbling dangerously and was only kept upright thanks to his firm hold.
Astarion glanced around to ensure that you weren't nearby before he mischievously bared his fangs at the baby.
He expected fear or a screech.
But no.
She merely glared at him for a brief moment before bursting into a high-pitched laughter that pierced through his ears and made him wince in pain.
Had it not been for his fast reflexes, she would have had her tiny and prying paws inside his mouth as she tried to reach for his fangs.
“No – these are no toy,” he grumbled in utmost annoyance.
You walked into the room, straightening your dress whilst giving him a taunting glare. “Look at you! Bonding.”
He held the babe as far as he could from his face as she giggled enthusiastically, clearly finding in him some amusement.
He scoffed. “Please. Even the Nine Hells can't be as torturous as this.”
Clicking your tongue, you approached to sweep her into your arms, which caused an infernal reaction from her as she broke into a screech that would put a banshee to shame.
“See? She prefers Uncle Astarion.”
He rolled his eyes, returning his focus on the book had been peacefully enjoying before this unfortunate ordeal.
As you managed to quiet her down by shifting her attention to a stuffed owl bear toy, two soft knocks were heard on the front door.
Finally.
You allowed your friend inside who promptly took her babe in her arms.
“Please tell me she behaved,” she said apologetically. “She's teething and her temper can be overbearing at times.”
“It was no bother. She was absolutely delightful and even bonded with Uncle Astarion.”
She chuckled alongside you.
He could feel a frown grow on his face as she turned to him. “How come you two haven't considered having one of your own?”
Astarion's eyes nearly bulged out.
“Oh, it has never crossed our minds, really,” you immediately blurted out, pinching the babe's cheeks affectionately. “We're better off this way.”
Now that set him off.
“Actually, I have considered it.”
Far more often than he dared admitting, but it was not more than wishful thinking.
He was fortunate enough not to worry about unwanted pregnancies, as being a vampire spawn made the feat nigh impossible.
But he still wondered how you'd look carrying his child.
Especially with you being such the motherly type.
His eyes fell to your heaving chest for a moment, and he vaguely imagined how your breasts would swell.
“Oh? You have?” you sounded more surprised than shocked.
Your friend shifted a glance between you and him. “I'm sure Astarion here would warm up to the idea fast – so to speak.”
How he detested puns.
Once she bid her farewell and you parted ways with a gentle kiss to the babe's temple, he found himself content as silence took over.
“You meant that?”
He pressed the book in his hands closed. “Us having a child?”
You nodded.
“I don't see why not.”
You began undoing the laces of your dress as you paced into the room.
“Well, it's not like we can physically do it.”
Astarion stood on his feet, following you closely behind.
“We can.”
Your head turned abruptly to him. “You're just having a laugh, aren't you?”
Astarion had read enough about half-vampires – dhampirs – to know it wasn't as hard to achieve as one might think.
He would just need to be very persistent and be well fed.
“It is possible.”
You chuckled. “I think we would be on babe number four if it were truly possible.”
As he walked up behind you, he planted a soft kiss to the nape of your neck, moving his masterful fingers down the lacing of your corset.
He adored having you wear the most exquisite clothes he could embroider for you, but he equally adored helping you get undressed.
Just for him.
“But the real question, darling, is… would you want me to?”
As the corset loosened around you, he could see your breasts expand into fullness.
“Want what?”
The chemise underneath hid most of them from sight, but he could see your nipples faintly protruding against the sheet fabric.
He could feel himself already hardening from the topic of the conversation alone.
“Do you want me to breed you?”
His blunt words made you gasp. “You always come inside, Astarion… and nothing happens.”
Was that disappointment he detected in your voice?
Gods above…
That only served to fuel his lust.
You stepped out of your crimson dress and he shifted languidly until he was on his knees in front of you.
“What are you doing?”
He lifted your chemise just above your navel, and trailed soft kisses along your lower abdomen, feeling you occasionally flinching under his cold lips.
Your fingers tangled in his curls as a soft gasp left your lips. “Astarion?”
He did his best to ignore the ever-growing twitch against his trousers.
“Maybe we should rectify this predicament.”
You ran the pads of your fingers along his scalp in such a loving manner that he found himself humming in approval as his cold lips began to travel downwards.
“And how could you even do such a thing?”
Oh. You still thought he was bullshitting you?
He glared up at you with half-hooded eyes. “Hold on to that pole and place your leg on my shoulder.”
Astarion took pride in being a giving and caring lover who resorted to words laced with sensuality, to get you all worked up for him.
You arched a brow at him, but held onto the iron rod of the bed canopy while lifting your leg and resting it on his shoulder.
From this new angle, he was able to spot a growing damp spot in your underwear that nearly made him salivate.
The fabric clung to your folds, allowing him to spot the outline of your throbbing swell.
It seemed that your body was already getting ready for what was to come.
Hungrily, he leaned forward to place an open-mouthed kiss on the already damp fabric.
You bucked your hips instinctively against him as he teased your folds with his tongue.
He felt the first drops of precum staining his own clothes, and had no choice but to undo the lacing at the front so he could ease the unbearable strain.
The heel of your foot dug into his back as he kept adding more dampness to your underwear with his saliva, enjoying the sight of the outline of your folds.
With one hand firmly closed around his cock, he moved his lips to your inner thigh, earning a groan of protest from you.
He chuckled against your heated skin, squeezing some more precum from his tip, enjoying how it dribbled down his knuckles.
“Stop teasing…” you groaned, softly tugging at his curls.
But Astarion had something else in mind.
“I should be well fed before attempting this, if the words on those books and scrolls are to be trusted.”
A soft whimper spilled from your mouth and you pulled your underwear to the side with a sigh of relief.
But Astarion found no relief in that as he couldn't tear his eyes away from your soaked folds and the swell that peeked between them.
His cock gave him a warning twitch, as more precum dribbled outs from the tip.
You had broken his concentration with a low blow, but he still managed to part his lips, raking his fangs across the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.
“You've… never….” you gasped in astonishment as the realisation of his intentions hit you.
“There's a first time for everything, darling.”
Unlike your delectable neck, he had no experience catching your pulse in this area, so he had to drag his lips slowly, in search of that rhythmic pulsing that drove him insane.
“Astarion…” you moaned, rolling your hips.
Once he found what he was looking for, he dragged his tongue along the sweet spot before sinking his fangs into it.
He had anticipated you would squirm under his touch, so he anchored you in place by hooking his arm around your thigh.
Astarion reckoned he would never tire of feeling how hard and warm his cock would get whenever he fed on you, your blood rushing through his body like molten fire.
As he kept downing your blood and keeping you steady, he began to feel the veins that snaked around his cock bulging and he nearly lost it.
Your fingers were still buried in his hair, tugging firmly as your hips rolled on pure instinct.
Through his bloodlust, he managed to shift his gaze only to be met with strings of your wetness dangling from the entrance.
Gods… you were so ready to be bred.
He could feel your arousal.
He could taste it on his tongue.
His hand was doing an adequate job at giving his now heated cock some relief, but he knew he would only find true solace in being buried deep inside you.
Your blood had begun to spill from the corners of his mouth and he felt it trailing down his chin and neck.
With all the willpower he could muster in that moment of blinding hunger, he managed to tear away from you skin, rising to his feet as your leg dropped from his shoulder only to be caught on his arm, effectively keeping you spread for him.
His cock accidentally brushed against the twin marks on your inner thigh, blood coating the leaking tip of his cock.
He let out a hiss as the warm liquid dribbled down his length, mixing with his precum.
Your hand dropped to the back of his neck and you pulled him into a searing kiss, tasting yourself on his soaked lips.
With ease, he shifted closer until the tip of his cock was nudging at your entrance.
You broke the kiss. “Do you think you drank enough?”
His cock twitched violently from the despair in your words.
“There is only one way to find out, darling.”
You licked your lips, jerking your hips to have his tip slide inside.
Then he felt your hand snake in between your bodies until your fingers were wrapped around his length, giving it a trying squeeze.
“You're so, so hard, Astarion…”
Astarion could get even harder just from your praise.
His cock twitched again and he couldn't stop his hips from bucking, gradually burying himself deep within your warmth.
He sank all the way through, bringing his other hand to close around the one you had around the iron rod of the canopy, desperate for support as he thrusted into you.
Soon enough, you had matched his tempo, moving in unison with him.
From this angle, he could see the faint streaks of blood spread around his cock as it spread your folds, allowing him to see how swollen you were for him.
“So eager to be bred, aren't you?” he said in between groans.
You whimpered in response, unbuttoning the front of your chemise.
Astarion nearly came as your bare breasts came into view, swaying with each thrust. Your nipples had hardened completely and he felt his balls tighten.
“I want to see how big they will get.” he moaned more to himself, knowing he was getting closer and closer to his release.
Your mouth fell open but no words came out.
Instead, he felt you squeeze his cock desperately, drawing a primal growl from deep within him.
He truly wanted to know how bigger your breasts would get from carrying his child.
His balls tightened even harder and he felt the familiar wave of overwhelming release wash over his body.
He somehow managed to keep his gaze on your swaying breasts as he spilled deep inside you, feeling his cum shooting rhythmically inside you.
Desperate to feel your own contractions, he placed his thumb between your folds, circling your swell and slowly but surely driving you over the edge.
“Let go, darling…” he urged desperately, wanting the last drops of his seed to be milked out of him forcefully by your contractions.
As your breath quickened and your arms looped around his neck, he knew you were a goner.
You stilled momentarily, rhythmically contracting around him with a gasp.
He glanced down to see the bulging veins along his cock being squeezed as cum began to spill out around him.
Astarion had no idea how much cum he had spilled inside you, but what he did know was that he would gladly spend it all if it meant getting you pregnant with his child.
As you shuddered against him, he placed a soft kiss to your temple.
“Do you think it was enough?”
He chuckled. “I won't stop until it is.”
Masterlist
#astarion smut#astarion x female reader#astarion x tav#astarion x female tav#astarion x oc#astarion x f!reader#astarion x reader#astarion#astarion bg3
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Super Uncle Bucky || Bucky Barnes x f!reader
Pairings: Uncle Bucky Barnes x Auntie reader.
Themes: Chaotic humor, Babysitter Bucky
Summary: Bucky, out of his element, struggles to handle three mischievous kids who put him through a chaotic tea party, leaving him covered in stickers and glitter as you laugh and document his defeat.
A/N: You guys are just eating up my Bucky oneshots with kids so here's another one.
"Yup, that’s me. You’re probably wondering how I ended up in this situation. . ."
Bucky stood in the middle of the living room, his once immaculate hair now a wild mess of tangled locks. His shirt was soaked, clinging uncomfortably to his skin, while toy cars, Legos, and what appeared to be mashed-up cookie crumbs surrounded his feet. His metal arm gleamed brightly in the overhead lights, decorated with an assortment of glittery stickers — unicorns, dinosaurs, and rainbows — courtesy of the tiny hands that had attacked him earlier.
A cacophony of laughter and squeals filled the room as three tiny terrors, dressed in various superhero costumes, ran around him in circles. Bucky’s gaze shifted from one child to the next, his brow furrowed as if he was assessing a battlefield — and, honestly, this might be more dangerous than any fight he’d faced.
One of the kids, Chloe, with braids and sparkling blue eyes, clambered up onto the couch, raising her arms in victory like she’d just conquered Everest.
“You can’t escape, Uncle Bucky!” she declared proudly, giggling uncontrollably as Bucky tried to carefully pick his way through the minefield of toys.
Another child, Chase, with a Captain America shield as big as he was, lunged at Bucky’s leg.
“Gotcha! You’re under arrest for being grumpy!” he shouted, his voice filled with the determination only a five-year-old could muster.
Bucky sighed deeply, glancing at the living room monitor cam with a look that screamed, Send help.
— Two Hours Earlier —
“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” you asked, hovering by the front door with an amused smile tugging at your lips. “I can always call Nat—”
“I’m fine,” Bucky grumbled, rolling his eyes. “I’ve faced HYDRA agents, alien invasions, and Steve’s 1940s music tastes. I think I can handle a few kids.”
“Three kids,” you corrected with a grin. “Under the age of six. And they all think you’re ‘Super Uncle Bucky.’”
He smirked, crossing his arms confidently. “Piece of cake.”
With a lingering, somewhat skeptical glance, you blew him a kiss and slipped out the door, promising to be back in a couple of hours. Bucky watched you leave, his smile fading slightly as a sudden sense of unease crept up his spine.
“They’re just kids,” he muttered to himself. “How bad can it be?”
He turned around—three sets of wide eyes stared up at him, glinting with mischief. The youngest, Charlie, barely two years old, clutched a half-eaten cookie, crumbs tumbling down his chubby cheeks.
“Are you gonna fight monsters with us, Uncle Bucky? OH! Can I make your left arm look pretty?” Chloe asked sweetly, holding up a toy sword.
Bucky blinked, glancing at the sword, the cookie, and the Captain America shield in the Chase's hands.
“Uh...”
“Roar!” Charlie suddenly screeched, charging at his leg.
“Or... tea party?” Chloe suggested, a sparkly tiara slipping over her eyes.
Bucky let out a breath. “Yeah, sure. Tea party sounds—"
Chase threw his shield at Bucky's head with surprising force. “I wanna fight!”
“Tea party!” Chloe insisted.
“Bear hug!” Charlie latched onto Bucky’s leg like a tiny Hulk.
Oh boy.
— Present —
One of the children tugged on his pants, drawing his attention. Bucky looked down to see the youngest of the group — a chubby-cheeked little boy with a tuft of dark hair and bright green eyes, holding up a stuffed bear.
“Bucky bear!” he squealed, thrusting the toy up at Bucky’s face. “Hug!”
“Right, yeah, of course,” Bucky said, gingerly accepting the plush bear and giving it an awkward pat on the head. The boy beamed up at him, seemingly satisfied with Bucky’s less-than-stellar performance.
“Uncle Bucky!” Chloe on the couch shouted, bouncing excitedly. “Can we play tea party now?”
“Uh…” Bucky hesitated, looking around the chaos of the room. “Tea party sounds…calm?”
“Yeah, yeah! But you gotta dress up!” she insisted, hopping off the couch and rummaging through a pink box that looked suspiciously like it belonged in your closet. She pulled out a lacy bonnet and shoved it in Bucky’s direction. “Put this on.”
Before Bucky could even think to protest, the other two kids joined in, eagerly shoving various frilly and sparkly accessories at him. With a resigned sigh, Bucky crouched down, letting the kids pile hats, scarves, and bracelets onto him until he looked like a very unfortunate cross between a Victorian-era duchess and a Mardi Gras parade float.
“Uncle Bucky is so pretty!” Chase declared, clapping his hands in delight.
Bucky glanced at his reflection in the living room mirror, nearly did a double-take, and then grimaced. He looked like a walking nightmare in pink.
Maybe the super-soldier serum could help me survive this, he thought wryly.
“Okay, tea party it is,” he muttered, his dignity hanging by a very thin thread.
— Thirty Minutes Later —
Bucky sat crammed into a child-sized plastic chair, his knees nearly touching his chest, as he held a tiny teacup between his fingers. The kids sat around him in a semi-circle, their eyes bright with excitement.
“Would you like some more tea, Your Highness?” Chloe asked in her best impression of a British accent.
“Yes, thank you,” Bucky said solemnly, holding out his teacup. Chase with the Captain America shield delicately poured imaginary tea from an empty plastic teapot, his face set in serious concentration.
“You know,” Bucky mused, taking a pretend sip, “you kids aren’t so bad.”
That’s when the tea toy kettle started “whistling.”
Confused, Bucky turned his head — and was promptly doused with water as one of the boys squeezed the kettle’s handle, a gleeful grin on his face.
Bucky sputtered, wiping water off his face, and the room fell silent. Three pairs of wide, innocent eyes stared up at him, waiting to see how he would react.
A slow smile spread across his face.
“Oh, you little punks are so going down.”
What followed was a blur of tickle attacks, high-pitched giggles, and Bucky chasing the kids around the room with his “super-speed” (read: exaggerated slow-motion running while the kids darted around him like over-caffeinated squirrels). By the time you returned, Bucky was pinned to the ground by three wriggling bodies, all of them shrieking with laughter.
You leaned against the doorway, raising an eyebrow, trying — and failing — to suppress a grin. “Having fun?”
Bucky looked up at you, his hair sticking up in wild tufts, his face smeared with cookie crumbs, his shirt a sticky mess of juice stains, and his metal arm glinting with a rainbow of unicorn stickers. To top it all off, a frilly pink bonnet sat crookedly on his head, held in place by a giant bow under his chin.
“Oh, you know,” he drawled, deadpan. “Just living the dream.”
You snorted, eyes gleaming with mischief. “You look like you’ve been to war.”
“Worse.” He held up his hands in mock surrender, showing off chipped, glittery nail polish on his fingers. “I’ve been to a tea party.”
You burst into laughter, doubling over as the kids cheered triumphantly. “I’m getting the camera. No way we’re not documenting this.”
“Wait, no—” Bucky tried to stand up, but a small hand grabbed his bonnet’s bow, yanking him back down with surprising force.
“No escape, Uncle Bucky!” Chloe squealed, and the other two chanted, “More tea! More tea!”
Bucky slumped in defeat, sending you a pleading look.
But you were already gone, the sound of your laughter echoing down the hall.
He sighed deeply, glancing at the trio of tiny humans who had somehow become his overlords. Chloe climbed onto his back, using him like a jungle gym. “Uncle Bucky, it’s time for the royal dance now!”
Chase picked up a feathered boa and tossed it around Bucky’s shoulders. “And you have to wear this!”
Bucky sighed, closing his eyes in resignation. “Yeah… maybe I did have it easier fighting HYDRA.”
#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes imagines#winter soldier imagines#winter solider x reader#winter soldier x you#winter soldier x y/n#the winter soldier x reader#the winter soldier#winter soldier x female reader#winter soldier fanfiction#winter soldier fic#winter soldier fanfic#sebastian stan x reader#sebastian stan characters#sebastian stan x you#sebastian stan fanfiction#the winter solider x reader#the winter soldier x you#james barnes x you#james barnes x reader#james bucky barnes#james buchanan barnes#james barnes x y/n#james barnes
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CLUELESS; M. STURNIOLO
DAD!MATT STURNIOLO X F!MOM!READER
warnings: (toxic)baby daddy!matt YUPPP (except with a happy ending bc i can’t help myself)
a/n: requested! i gave the daughter a random name bc typing “y/d/n” gets annoying lmao, i also kinda added more detail to it (and a happy ending bc angst makes me sad) but i hope you like it anon!! <3
wc: 2,570
SYNOPSIS: Matt made it clear that he wasn’t ready for a relationship with you, but how does he react once you tell him you’re going out for the night?
-
Matt broke it off with you, it was his decision entirely.
Since you have birth to Angelina, it was said that Matt wasn’t ready for an official relationship. At the time, you had been angry; you had a few month old baby in your arms as your boyfriend proclaimed that he wasn’t “ready for something so formal.” As months pass, you’ve grown used to the situation, handing your daughter back and forth with the father of your child as you minded your business and he minded his.
Today was Friday, and Matt had texted you a few days ago that he was going to come by to pick up Angelina so she could visit Nick and Chris. You complied, given it was also a perfect opportunity to get out for once. Usually, when Matt has his daughter at his place, you stay in and relax, something you’re not necessarily able to do with an almost two year old around.
Today you decided to go to the bar… information Matt was not expecting.
When you heard the annual three knocks on your door, you made your way towards it and opened it. “You have a key, Matt, you know how to get in.” You say as usual, walking back into the bathroom to finish putting in your earring. You were already dressed up, nothing too crazy, but still comfortable enough for you to wear out.
“Why are you all dressed up, mama?” Matt leans against the open doorframe, his blue eyes raking over your body before watching you in the mirror. His arms were crossed over his chest, accentuating his taut biceps in the tank top he was wearing, accommodating to the nice weather outside.
“I’m going to the bar.” You reply shortly, turning around without looking at him as you walk by. Before he could get any sound out his mouth, your daughter sprints out of your room (too busy playing with her box of fake fruits that Uncle Nick gifted her), looking for her father.
“Daddy!” Her sweet voice distracts Matt as his eyes drift down, meeting hers. She has a cute smile on her face as she extends her arms up towards him.
“Hi, babygirl.” Matt smiles wide as he leans down to pick her up, resting her on his hip, placing a stabilizing arm underneath her. Placing kisses around her face, sweet giggles fill the air, quickly placing a smile on your face just from the sound.
As Matt makes his way over to you, he watches you gather your things. Rocking her slightly on his hip, he speaks up, “What’re you doin’ at a bar?” He tried to sound as neutral as possible, but the edge in his tone was clear. Immediately picking it up, a sigh escapes your lips. You glance back at him, noticing how Angelina was too busy playing with her father’s horse necklace to pay attention to what her parents were saying.
“What do you usually do at a bar, Matt?” You reply sarcastically, giving him a look. With a clench of his jaw, he keeps his eyes on you, occasionally falling down your body to watch your legs sway by each other.
Licking his lips, he averts his gaze and looks back over at you. “Are you meeting someone there?” His voice became heavy, jealousy seeping through.
Matt’s always been possessive, not too an unhealthy extent, but enough that even a stare towards someone that had romantic feelings for you got the hint. You used to love it, it felt safe, like he was protecting you. But ever since he called it off (and with Angelina), he’s had no reason to be jealous because neither of you had any time or reason to be or hookup with someone else.
His sudden dose of questions doesn’t surprise you, but they did start to get on your nerves. He was the one who didn’t want to stay together.
“Does it matter?” You respond, grabbing your phone as you turned to face him. You notice the way he tries to hide his irritation, either for Angelina’s benefit or for yours. There was no use if the latter was the case, you knew him inside and out. “When are you coming back with her?” You decide to change the topic, your voice back to normal, trying not to let his curiosity get the better of you.
Exhaling softly, Matt licks his lips again as he answers, “Nick was actually wondering if you’d wanna come over Sunday; said he misses you.” He never stops his slight movements with his daughter on his side, soothing her into unconsciousness.
As the words leave his lips, it made you realize how long it’s been since you’ve seen Nick and Chris. You did miss them; they were your best friends. But being as busy as you were with a little girl, you barely have time for yourself, let alone to hangout with your friends. You’re hoping today will ease your anxiety of going out again.
Nodding your head, a soft smile curls at the end of your lips. “Yeah, that sounds good.” You accept the invitation, the thought of seeing the other two boy’s lifting your mood.
“Cool.” Matt’s answer was short as he watches your reaction. He’d be lying if he said seeing you happy didn’t make him happy. That’s all he’s ever wanted for you, he was just always scared he’d never be the one to give that to you. But, now, with you going out to the bar, potentially meeting someone else…
“It’s getting late so I’m gonna head out.” Your voice interrupts his thoughts as he blinks. Swallowing dryly, Matt nods and tightens his hold on his girl, grabbing the bag you pack for her every time Matt came by to pick her up.
“Yeah, I should probably get back, anyway.” He replies, trying his best to go along with your statement, despite the uproar of jealousy burning up his body. He slings the bag over his shoulder, taking steps towards your front door.
Before he leaves, Matt turns to let you talk to your daughter. “I’ll see you soon, Angel.” You kiss her cheek, smiling as she giggles softly. “I love you.” You whisper close to her ear, knowing how much it tickles her. More giggles fill the air as she playfully swats at you, her tiny fingers resting against your nose. Pressing a peck against her small palm, you let go of her as she immediately reaches for Matt’s necklace again.
“Say, “bye, mama.” Matt rocks her gently, looking down at her. Angelina’s bright eyes look over at you, waving her hand dramatically.
“Bye, mama.” She repeats, her words slurred slightly, clearly just a few seconds from sleep. You laugh softly at her attempt, waving back at her. As Matt turns to leave, he opens the door, but not without a last glance to you.
“Have fun tonight, Y/N.” He says, catching you off guard. Exhaling through your nose, your shoulders lose their tense position, watching Matt watch you. Your eyes swipe between his, trying to read him. For the first time, you couldn’t. It made you feel anxious, like you were doing something wrong. No, he’s doing this on purpose, he knows how to get under your skin.
“Thanks, Matt.” You reply shortly, keeping your face neutral as you spoke. With a curt nod from him, he turns and shuts the heavy door behind him. Sighing as you can’t help yourself, you walk over to the window, watching him walk away. You notice the way he entertains Angelina’s babbles as he buckles her into her carseat, exaggerating his reactions to make her laugh. As he rounds his car, he takes his seat in the driver’s side and turns it on. With a glance towards you, he notices you staring as he sends you another nod before putting the car in drive and pressing on the gas.
Maybe you shouldn’t go out tonight…
-
That same sentence repeats itself in your head as soon as you step foot into the busy bar.
It’s only been a couple minutes since you walked in and you already regret it. You couldn’t remember the last time you’ve been in this sort of setting and you’re far from getting used to it. You’d be lying if you said your mind wasn’t plagued with thoughts of Angelina and Matt. You know how good of a father Matt is, he’s just… complicated, it was something you just had to live with.
As you sat at the bar, you pondered whether you should get a drink or not, knowing you wouldn’t be able to drive home if you did. Getting lost in your thoughts was easy as the people around you entertained themselves.
“Hey.” A voice broke you out of your reverie, your head snapping in the direction beside you. A man seated himself on a chair next to you, a half-empty glass in his hand.
Swallowing dryly, you reply, “Hey.” You couldn’t remember the last time someone tried to flirt with you, given you’ve spent so much time with Angelina and Matt. Once your eyes met his, you almost gasped at his appearance. He had dark brown hair contradicting his blue eyes, bright skin a familiar shade. He looks like Matt…
Redirecting your gaze, a quiet sigh escapes your lips, thankfully being drowned out by the loud music. Silently waiting for his next words, your fingers tap anxiously against the top of the bar.
“I was just wondering what a pretty girl like you was doing sitting alone.” The stranger replies, a smirk forming on his face. Exhaling softly, you ignore him, contemplating your options. Matt would never start a conversation like that. A voice inside your head yells at you to stop comparing other people to Matt, knowing that a habit like that could get destructive.
You needed to go home.
-
Sunday morning comes around as you sleep in, taking the empty house for granted. When you had gotten home Friday night, it was easy to fall into a routine of making food and watching tv, deciding to take your free time to relax instead of go out. Maybe it just wasn’t for you.
A few hours later, your make your way over to the triplets’ house, putting the car in park as you unbuckle your seatbelt. It was a little past four as you knocked on their door, waiting patiently for someone to answer.
“Y/N!” Nick’s voice blared as soon as the door creaked open, enveloping you in his arms almost immediately. With a soft laugh from you, you wrap your arms around him, relaxing in his hold. “I missed you so much, I haven’t seen you in forever.” He says, his tone more dramatic than needed, making you chuckle.
“I missed you, too, Nick.” You smile, stepping into their house and up the stairs. Smiling once you see your daughter, she reciprocates and giggles loudly, alerting Chris. She rests on his lap as his legs bounce lightly, previously relaxing her.
“Y/N!” Chris smiles, looking over at you.
“Mommy!” Angelina exclaims, trying to get over to you. Chris picks her up and walks over to you, handing you your daughter before hugging you softly, making sure he doesn’t crush Angelina.
“How’ve you been, ma?” Chris asks, his voice soft. He grew into the habit of calling you that ever since he found out you were pregnant; you slowly got used to it.
Entertaining his small talk, you feel Angelina play with the neckline of your shirt, her tiny fingers just barely tugging on the fabric. Chris stands with his arms crossed, listening to your words, occasionally interrupting whenever a new thought popped into his head.
“Why didn’t anyone tell me you were here?” Matt walks out from his room once he hears his daughter giggle, not expecting for you to be here already. Nick had made his way back up next to you, joining your conversation, not without periodically getting annoyed at Chris.
“‘Cause you were too busy brooding in your room.” Chris replies, a smile that’s been on his face the entire time never leaving. With a scoff from the other brother, Matt gets closer to you, reaching out to tickle his daughter gently. With a cute giggle in response, his mood quickly switches as he watches her.
Once Nick announces that he needs to grab something from his room (to get away from the conversation he held with Chris), Chris immediately follows him, his words never stopping even when Nick groans in irritation. As they walk upstairs, it leaves you, your daughter and Matt together.
“So, how was the bar?” Matt breaks the silence as his arms cross, his jaw subconsciously tightening. He waits to hear your answer, his blue eyes raking over your reaction.
“It was fine.” With a vague answer, you knew it upset him, but you wanted to figure out why. You notice the way his tongue licks over his teeth, his short nails digging into the soft skin of his arm.
“Did you meet anyone?” His question lingers in the back of your mind as you walk a few feet to sit down on their couch, shortly after feeling the cushion beside you dip as Matt took his seat next to you.
Hesitating, you exhale softly trying to figure out how to reply. You could be unclear and not give him a definite answer, or you could be honest and finally tell him how you truly feel. You knew waiting any longer would just make things worse..
“No.” You reply, looking over at him. Matt tries to hide the look of shock on his face, but you noticed it before he fixed it. “Because I was too busy thinking about you.” You mutter, looking down at your daughter in your lap as she fidgets with your fingers.
Matt sat still, watching you. He’d be lying if he said he was expecting you to say that, too engrossed with the idea of you meeting someone else and forgetting about him. His chest moved faster than usual, your sudden confession taking him off guard. “You were thinking about me?” He asks, his voice coming out softer than intended.
With a nod in response, you keep your eyes on your girl, too nervous to look at him. Your eyes widen slightly when you suddenly feel his hand grasp your chin, making you look over at him, his tattooed arm holding you tightly.
“You were thinking about me?” Matt repeats, his blue eyes boring into yours. You knew this game he played; if he ever asked you something important and you didn’t verbally answer, he’d make sure you did either way.
“Yes.” You sigh, swallowing thickly as your nerves heighten. His tough façade slowly breaking as a small curl tugs at the ends of his lips. Rolling your eyes, a small smile overtakes your mouth as you try to look away from him.
“Look at me, baby.” His voice was raspy as he caught your attention, mindlessly following his words. “I know I’ve been difficult and these past two years have been a lot, but,” he takes a second to think, trying to find the right words. “I was an idiot for never treating you the way you deserve, mama. I promise I can do better this time.”
And who were you to say no?
#matt sturniolo#matt sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo fanfic#matt sturniolo imagine#matt sturniolo x you#matthew sturniolo x reader
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take me home, country road
[ao3]
prompt: 1800s price/reader…. reader flees to his town where Price is the sheriff after a murder in her previous town only to be mistaken for the mail order bride that Price just sent for ….and he’s not interested in hearing any of her excuses when she tells him that he’s got the wrong girl (part 3) part 1, part 2
-
“Neglecting your husband already?” he asks when you pull away from the arm curling around your waist. It’d migrated there from your back during the walk away from the courthouse.
“You know I’m not—I’m not some horse that you can just…break in,” you seethe, glaring up at Price. Your arms are crossed tight over your chest, putting the slightest boundary between you and him. It’s more of a mental boundary than anything, a self-soothing gesture; you know it hardly even registers to him because the man still looks down at you with that unimpressed expression, like dealing with a particularly vexing child.
“I hadn’t noticed,” he says dryly, looking you up and down. It’s a scorching, hungry look and it makes you shift from foot to foot.
The two of you stand outside the front door of his house, the front door still shut tight. You put up a fuss on the walk from town as the reality of your situation finally sunk in, squirming in his hold until he threatened to just load you over his shoulder and carry you off. His tone leaves little for you to doubt. Nothing about him brooks skepticism; until the end of time, you’ll look at John Price and think, this is a man of action. This is a man that will move heaven and earth.
You clam up after that, lips pursed shut though turned down at the corners.
It’s a bigger house than you might’ve expected for a single man, but perhaps it was built with a wife and children in mind. The thought makes you swallow. A wooden two-story thing with a porch out front and an adjacent stable for his two horses with a pen around back. Speckled Appaloosas that look up at the sound of his boots and keys, attentive for all of a few seconds before losing interest.
You know without asking that Price must have built this house with his own two hands. It’s not shoddy by any means, but his house has that indefinable quality that some places have. Organic. Homegrown, almost. It’s hard to put up against the houses of your youth, but then again, you grew up in the cramped quarters of the city, apartments thick with the scent of sewage on bad days and dust on the good. The two are hardly comparable. It’s even harder to put up against the estates that you’ve spent the better part of the last few years cleaning and learning inside out, but at least his house doesn’t make your stomach turn at the sight.
There’s a moment when you first turn to him where you wonder if he’ll look for approval in your face, some sign to set him at ease, but when you meet his gaze, it’s steady and impenetrable. Quietly self-assured. It’s incongruent with the machismo you were raised around, the constant need to impress or transcend. It puts you on edge. It makes you almost feel like baring your teeth.
Your comment had come from seeing the horses and the house and the porch with the two rocking chairs, your hackles raising every step closer. Price built his house big enough for children because he anticipated a baby in his future. Children he’d have with his wife, which, though a fuzzy memory as far as memories go, you quietly stepped into the role of not half an hour ago.
You’ve thought about it before. Motherhood; marriage, domestic living, settling down with a man to start a family. The reality of your life has always made it seem like a problem for the future. Years chipping away like flakes of faded paint off the walls of your bedroom, still living with your aunt and uncle well into adulthood, trying desperately to scrimp and save and stay afloat. Disappointing but not surprising that you’d never been considered the marriable sort, not with scrubbing other people's toilets for a living.
And now look at you, ring on your finger and whisked home to be bedded. A shiver roles down your spine at the thought and you scowl at Price instead of sinking into the strange thrill.
When he wraps a hand around your wrist to pull you towards him (his fingers easily overlapping; another thrill), you snap.
“That is quite enough with all the touching!”
His eyes narrow. “I’ll have more than my hands on you by the end of the night.”
A more proper woman would gasp. You barely hold yours back.
You know in the back of your mind that you’ve already lost any semblance of an upper hand in this situation. It has long spiraled out of your control. His ring sits on your finger all nice and pretty, and though you signed your marriage license under a different name—your own rather than the name of his actual intended—that Price hadn’t even bothered confirming, you are, for all intents and purposes, his to touch as he pleases.
“I’m—” your eyes dart around, the urge to bolt a sharp and sudden compulsion lodged in your chest, “—I know I said yes, but I—there’s always the possibility of an a-annulment if we don’t…if…”
You flinch, startled, when he pulls you into his chest only to cup your face again. He has big hands with callused fingers, rough against your skin. Up close, you can see the way his beard is cropped closer than his mustache and mutton chops. It gives him a grim air, almost somber until you catch his eyes staring down at you with an affection that feels unearned, meant for someone else.
“Deep breaths, darling, there’s nothing to fret about just yet. You’ll work yourself into a state like this,” he murmurs, dropping his head to sip a kiss from your lips again.
You’ve been in a state since the moment you walked into the sheriff’s office and laid eyes on this man. Turned around and knocked sideways, like you’ve walked into a storybook without noticing. If only it hadn’t all been so sudden, you might’ve been able to approach the situation with a clearer head. You might’ve been able to think up some other way out of it beyond giving Price a fake name and waiting anxiously for your true identity to be painstakingly drawn out over the course of a week.
“Don’t know why you keep working yourself up,” Price says softly, then slots your lips together for another tender kiss. “Figured you might be a little skittish, but…’m gonna be such a good husband for you, honey. Not gonna want for nothing.”
His slow kisses drag out longer than back in the courthouse, languorous and decadent. As if he has all the time in the world now. In a way, he does, now that he’s helped collect your belongings from the inn and brought you home. When you think of pulling away, the hand wrapped around your wrist lets go and slides to your back, pulling you flush against his chest. Your breasts flatten against his chest, pulse skittering like mad when you feel the hardest of his chest against yours and the muscle holding you in place.
You can’t help the whimper that escapes your lips when the hand on your cheek slides to the nape of your neck and grips, holding you in place. The kiss deepens, the heat on your cheeks feeling palpably hot, vision swimming until your eyes have no choice but to flutter shut. Your suitcase sits forgotten somewhere in the dirt, toppled over onto its side. You pant low, hot breaths into his mouth when he breaks the kiss, letting his lips just hover over yours.
“There we go, darlin’,” Price mumbles against your mouth, sliding the hand on your low back down to grip the plump flesh of your ass through your dress, lips twitching when you make a broken, affronted sound. “Isn’ that better? Not thinkin’ so hard?”
You can’t think at all, in truth. When he kisses you again, your thoughts evaporate up into the clouds, the tongue licking into your mouth dispelling any ideas or notions you might’ve had. It disappears into the heat and lust and the fingers digging into your backside, groping at the flesh there without shame or compunction. You go with him when he clutches you closer, gasping again into his mouth when you feel something hard press against your low belly. He grunts when you twitch against it.
“John—John—” you gasp, pulling your mouth away and whimpering when he chases after you, letting him steal another wet, slick kiss before your trembling hands clutch at the fabric of his shirt. “Enough—it’s not—it’s not proper—”
“No prying eyes around here,” he grunts. “‘Sides, who’s going to tell a man he can’t kiss his own wife?”
Trembling all the harder at his words, you dig your nails into his shirt sleeves and hope you pinch the skin underneath. All twisted up inside. The ring on your finger glimmers when it catches the light, brighter even than the sun this close to your face. When Price feels your nails dig into his arms, he groans, fingers pressing harder into your bottom and making you squeak. All the pent up lust finally trickling out of him and into you.
“C’mon, honey, let’s get you inside.” He finally lets you go after giving your bottom lip one last wet suck, pulling it into his mouth while his half-lidded eyes stare into yours. It’s somehow more intimate than kissing.
You’re still reeling when he turns around to pick your suitcase off the ground, certain that your knees will give way and send you tumbling as well. Every point of contact on your body sizzles, aches. You watch from outside of yourself as he turns back to you, suitcase in his hand now, eyes still dark and fixed on you. Hungry. Your eyes widen when they flit down to find a thick bulge at the crotch of his pants.
Like a cold bucket of water has been dumped over your head, you hiss and back up three steps when he takes a step towards you. “Oh no, you don’t take one step closer! I won’t have anything to do with—with that!”
You must look like some feral barn cat, back all puffed up, teeth bared to the man trying to coax you towards him. Price must see it too because he grins, amused. “Still spittin’ mad, huh? Felt those claws in me before, darlin’…gonna love feeling them with nothing between us.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Price doesn’t bother clearing anything up, but you intuit it the second he takes another step in your direction, whirling around and sprinting towards the house. It feels counterproductive to seek shelter in the man’s house, but dusty plains stretch out in every direction apart from back into town, where you know not a soul will lift a finger to help you. His house is the only shelter you’re going to get.
You hurry up the porch stairs, tearing open the door before glancing over your shoulder to find Price not far behind. He advances on you at a walking pace, but each stride of his long legs matches two of yours, making you shriek and scurry up the staircase. You dart for the first open door you see, slamming it shut behind you and leaning your whole weight against it. Glancing down, you perk up at the sight of a lock on the door before flipping it.
It’s not long before the sound of boots clomping up the staircase meets your ears, headed straight in your direction. You shake when you hear him pause right outside the door, then startle when he tries the knob.
“You gonna let me in, darling?” Price asks, grin in his voice. Even raps his knuckle against the door for good measure.
“No,” you snap.
“Not even for your things? Got your suitcase right here.” You hear him set it down, a little clunk against the wood floor.
“I can manage like this. I’ve slept in my dress before.”
He pauses. “Have you?”
You tilt your chin up proudly despite the door blocking his view. “Yes, and I don’t mind doing it again. You can just stay on the other side of that door until you…until you put that thing away.”
“Can’t do much about that thing, darling; it’s sort of grown on me over the years anyway,” Price chuckles. “Well, not much I can do with it behind this door. I’ll go tend the horses ‘till suppertime comes ‘round and then come back to tend to you.”
“Licentious…reprobate,” you hiss through the door.
He laughs, the sound deep in his throat. Your stomach flips.
The stairs creak under the weight of his boots as he descends back downstairs. You wait until you hear the front door open and shut behind him, until the house is completely quiet save for the blood pumping in your ears before you hastily unlock the door and dart a hand out just to pull your suitcase in. You shut and lock the door as soon as it passes the threshold.
It takes a while to settle your nerves and for the trembling to subside. In the meantime, you sit on your bottom at the foot of the door, with your back still pressed firmly to the wood, and take stock. There’s a bed in the room, one you hadn’t noticed in your mad scramble to lock yourself in. A bigger bed than the one you’d slept on back at the inn, but just as sparse, with gray flannel sheets and a blue quilt folded and draped over the end of the bed.
The rest of the furniture in the room—two end tables, a chest of drawers, a desk, and two chairs situated in the corner of the room—appears so consistent in its design that you have to wonder if Price made them by hand as well. Hardly a reason to question it. You think to yourself that you’ll have to ask him how he finds the time only to quickly shake that thought away. Can’t be getting too chummy, certainly not if you don’t expect to be around in a month’s time. Hopefully less than that.
You chew on your lip at the thought of fleeing in the night.
It trickles into your thoughts while you open your suitcase on the bed and riffle around for your nightwear. Price will likely keep you under lock and key for at least the first week of your marriage, giving you little opportunity to take off any time soon. If only you’d held your tongue and played the demure bride, he might’ve had some cause to trust you. Certainly not now, after your most recent display.
Your own stupid fault, as usual. It’s not the first time your temper has gotten the better of you. You’ve faced worse consequences for it.
Outside the window on the far end of the room, a horse whinnies. You pause, remembering that Price hadn’t gone very far. When you glance out curiously, you see him letting the horses into the pen, giving one a good rub down the bridge of its nose. The horses seem to melt under his touch.
It’s strange watching him from far away. From a distance, it’s hard to reconcile him with the man that bent you over his desk not an hour ago and tanned your bottom. You cringe at the memory. It’s not that Price doesn’t seem like a man that would take his wife over his knee if he saw fit to do so, but you still can’t imagine yourself as that woman. When you think about it, it feels like a play, something you saw happen to someone else. Not you wailing and squirming like a cat in heat.
As if feeling your stare, he glances up at the window and winks when he catches your eye. With a squeak, you leap away from the window, scurrying back over to the bed.
A couple hours pass in restless contemplation, practically biting your nails to the quick. Eyeing the windowsill like you still might go over there just to check on what Price is up to outside. You hear him come back into the house once or twice, tensing up at the sound of his boots, only to be left vaguely disappointed when you hear him leave and the screen door slam shut behind him.
You spend so long holed up in the bedroom that you miss lunch entirely. Below you, you hear Price puttering around downstairs in the kitchen—the sound of a knife chopping vegetables and then the sizzle of meat on a pan. The hunger pangs nearly make you break, but you’ve gone without food before.
Your heart skips a beat when you hear him ascend the staircase again and place something just outside of your door. He doesn’t try coaxing you out this time, just heads back down the stairs and out the front door. Again, you ignore the pang of disappointment; ignore the urge to open the door and holler down the stairs for him to stay gone.
He leaves anyway.
Curiosity needles at you though, so you open the door up a crack when you’re sure you’re alone. There’s a plate at the foot of the door with vegetables and meat, slightly cooled but still fresh, the plate still warm. He must’ve known you wouldn’t try coming downstairs and fixed you up a plate.
You eat in silence at the desk, bad mood ripening. Angry at yourself and everyone else. Even John. Especially John. The audacity of fixing you up a plate, of thinking of you in the first place. Irritated enough to stand boldly by the window this time, hand clutched in the curtain, tracking the movement of his shoulders and hips when he moves with the horses and fetches water from the well. You lose sight of him a couple times as he finishes up the day’s chores around the house, but the flutter in your belly always settles when he comes back into view.
It’s easy to let yourself admire him from afar, somehow less humiliating without his eyes on you. He’s a solid man, body carved into its shape from the rough labor that’s part and parcel of living out on the frontier. A wide back tapering down to lean, narrow hips and thick, muscled thighs hewn from lifting and pulling and all manner of physical work. You bite your lip when you remember what it felt like to cling to that back and dig your nails into his arms.
You give your head a shake. It’s dangerous to let a thought like that latch on.
In the few hours between lunch and sunset, you occupy yourself by reading one of the books stowed away in your suitcase. Then get bored and refold your clothes. The horses bray when they’re taken into the stables for the evening. The crickets out in the bushes in the yard chirp as the sun sets pink in the far distance. It’s quieter out here in the plains than back in the city, you think, something you haven’t yet had the time to appreciate.
When Price comes in for the night, you’re firm in your resolve to keep the door shut. If lunch at the door was just an attempt to butter you up, he has another thing coming. In a house this big, there’s likely a guest room or somewhere else to sleep—a sofa or a sleeping bag tucked away under the stairs. He’ll just have to make do while you take the bedroom. There’ll be no sharing a bed with the man that grabbed your backside like a piece of meat.
He doesn’t come up the stairs right away. Like before, you hear him rustle up supper, spatula scraping against a pan and knife coming down on a chopping block again and again. Not enough time has passed since lunch for you to feel more than peckish. You’re thankful for that when you hear him sit down to eat.
The knock at the door startles you. You hadn’t heard him come up the stairs. “Ready to talk now?”
You stare balefully at the door. “No.”
“We have to figure this out sometime, darling.”
“No, we don’t.”
“I’m sorry if I gave you a fright earlier, but, honey, that’s how husbands kiss their wives. Nothing improper about it.”
“I’m not frightened, I’m just not—we don’t need to do any of that,” you huff, embarrassed all over again. “You’ve hardly given me any time to even think. I didn’t know you from Adam this morning and now we’re married.”
Price sighs, the sound muffled through the door. “What am I going to do with you, honey?” It’s said to himself, a fond exasperation that puts you on edge all over again. He has no right to be amused with you, no right to be delighted and charmed by your ire.
“Well, you can sleep somewhere else for the time being. I’d prefer the bed to myself.”
He lets out a low, dark laugh. “There’s not a chance in hell that I’m sleeping anywhere but with my wife from this point on. You oughta come to terms with that quick.”
“Well then, you can sleep out there because I’m not unlocking the door!”
He lets out a mean sound, almost mocking. “Yeah, ‘bout time I addressed that, huh?”
His words make you frown until you hear a floorboard creak as Price does something on the other side of the door. Then the doorknob jiggles. Horrified, you watch as the door unlocks and the knob turns, your husband’s body filling out the door frame. You’d forgotten how well he could fill one out. He almost has to duck to come inside, mused hair from working outside all day brushing against the top of the frame.
“Always put a key on the top of the door, just in case,” he explains, pinching the little silver key between his thumb and forefinger before shutting the door. Your heart jumps when he locks it behind him. “Ready to talk now, honey?”
#ceil writing#cod mw2#cod x reader#captain price#captain john price#john price#cod price#price x you#price x reader#price/reader#john price x reader#mail order bride au
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— matching nails
pairing: e-42!miles x fem!reader
summary: you ask miles if the two of you can paint your nails a matching color. wc: 476
contains: fluff, slightly posessive!miles
word bank: “princesa” - princess
you’re seated sideways in your boyfriend’s lap with your legs hung over his, trying— and failing to convince him to participate in a cute couple’s idea you found on tiktok.
“hell no.” the rejection comes even faster than you’d expected, a glum frown turning the corners of your lips downwards. you pout up at miles disappointedly, who is somehow still unmoved by your used-to-be undefeated persuasion tactic.
“but-“ you start.
“nah, no way princesa.” he interjected firmly, his fingers warm where they rested, curled over the skin of your exposed waist just beneath the hem of your crop top. “trippin’.” his chuckle lacked a single shred of humor.
you huffed, arms crossing and eyes rolling. “it’s just nail polish, miles, it’s not that big of a deal. you don’t wanna match with me?”
“shit, we can match some jordan’s. just lemme know what pair you want.” he snorted, finding your little tantrum adorable.
he obviously wasn’t taking you or your idea seriously, so you simply shrugged your shoulders and sighed dramatically. “fine, i’ll just ask someone else to do it with me then.” you mumbled, moving to stand up as you reached towards the desk for your phone.
“who?” his brow quirked, the vagueness of your statement piquing his interest almost instantly.
“chris.” you stated casually, his hand dragging down your hip as you moved out of reach.
“chris?” he parroted, the sound of the name drawn out in disbelief as it expelled from his mouth. the drastic change in his expression paired with the incredulous tone of his voice was comical, and you had to restrain yourself from laughing at his reaction to the mention of your made-up-guy-friend. “who the hell is chris?” his two braids draped over his shoulders when he sat up, forearms perched on his basketball short-clad thighs as he suspiciously watched you unlock your phone without answering him.
he kissed his teeth and impatiently leaned forward, his pointer finger hooking onto the belt loop of your jean shorts to swiftly yank you back over to him. with a squeal you stumbled back into his lap, your phone snatched from you at the speed of light and tossed over onto your bed a few feet away, your mouth slightly agape and hands still in the shape of what they were previously holding.
“you play too damn much.” his voice was low, brooding as he stared daggers into your eyes. “so who’s your lil’ friend? chris, right? he go to your school? you never mentioned him to me before.” once the questions started coming and his head tilted to the side with that familiar glint in his eye, you knew better than to keep the gag going, even if it was fun to see him squirm.
you shifted in his lap as your legs swung back and forth, an attempt to distract him from the playful smirk that threatened to expose itself on your expression, but he saw it anyway as you quickly shook your head. “no, baby, i was just kidding.”
“aw yeah, that’s what i thought.” he huffed out what was meant to be a laugh, sizing you up with a brief warning glance. you could tell he was thinking it over, his tongue poking at the inside of his cheek when he glanced away, and a smile slowly grew on your face as he exhaled a heavy sigh. you always got what you wanted.
“show me the color you want us to do, mama.”
— extra scene
a/n: nah cause just imagine miles leaving with his uncle for a job, and as he goes to slide his mechanical gauntlet on, Aaron catches a glimpse of his nails and is like ??? 😭 imagine getting your ass handed to you by the prowler and bro has hearts painted on his nails
“hold on, lemme see your hand.”
it’s not like he had a choice, seeing as his uncle was already reaching for his wrist. miles wanted to stop him, but he knew it was no use, his hand limp in his uncle’s hold as it was pulled forward and brought closer for inspection.
“the hell you got your nails painted for, man?your girl made you do this or sum?” with an eyebrow raised he studied his nephew’s camouflaged expression, laughter tumbling from his lips when the boy grumbled a quiet ‘chill’, snatched his arm back and let his mask close over his face to hide the subtle tint of embarrassment blossoming on his cheeks.
- please do not copy, plagiarize, or repost my works to other platforms.
likes, comments, and reblogs are very appreciated!
#across the spiderverse#prowler miles fanfic#42 miles morales#prowler miles#earth 42 miles morales x reader#earth 42 miles morales#earth 42 miles fluff#miles morales fanfiction#miles x reader#miles morales x you#miles morales x reader#miles morales x y/n#miles g morales#spiderman astv
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full circle
steddie | rating: t | wc: 3,8k | cw: mention of throwing up | tags: pre-season 4, different first meetings, eddie is afraid of heights, steve is a sweetheart, holding hands, first kiss
for week one of @softsteddieseptember using the prompt “facing your fears”
read on ao3 here
Jeff and Gareth stumble out of the Ferris Wheel and Eddie snorts out a laugh.
Jeff is struggling to keep them both upright as Gareth leans all of his weight on him, his face alarmingly green. Jeff manages to get them to the picnic table where Eddie is sitting without Gareth barfing but when he plops down next to Eddie he scoots away, putting some distance between them just in case.
“Shouldn’t’ve gone on the Ferris Wheel after swallowing three fucking corn dogs, Gare,” Eddie sniggers, taking a drag of the cig he’d been smoking while his two friends were spinning fifty feet from the ground.
“Don’t-” Gareth mumbles, cutting himself off with a gagging sound that makes Eddie sit on top of the table just to put more space between them. “Don’t mention corn dogs. Or food,” he finishes meekly, hunching forward and burying his face in his hands.
Jeff gives him a pat on the shoulder. “It’s your fault, man,” he tells Eddie, who gasps, affronted by the accusation. “If you didn’t fuck off to go take a piss then Gareth wouldn’t’ve had to go on it with me.”
Eddie shrugs, the cigarette dangling from his lips. “Whatcha want me to say, Jeff? When you gotta go, you gotta go.”
(The truth is Eddie didn’t have to go.
He lied about it and then wandered around the fairgrounds aimlessly until he was certain Jeff and Gareth had gone on the Ferris Wheel.
Because Eddie is terrified of heights, a fact no one but his uncle is aware of given how cool and unmetal it is.)
“Ugh, I gotta go,” Gareth grumbles, stumbling over to some bushes before throwing up all over them.
Eddie recoils with a grimace. “Dude!”
Gareth pulls himself together. He wipes his mouth and glares at him over his shoulder. “Shut up, Ed, you wouldn’t be doing any better if it was you who went up-” He pauses, narrowing his eyes at Eddie. “Wait, how come I’ve never seen you go on the Ferris Wheel?”
Oh crap.
“I’ve been on it,” Eddie shrugs, lying as convincingly as he can. “Many times.”
Jeff studies him curiously. “No, no, Gare, is right. We’ve been coming here for three years and you’ve never been on it with us!”
“I’ve been on it,” Eddie insists. “Just you know with other people.”
They both snort. “Oh yeah?” Jeff asks. “Who?”
“Yeah, Eddie, you don’t have any other friends,” Gareth adds.
“I do!” Eddie protests, waving his hands like it will make names appear out of thin air. “I have Freak!”
Jeff raises an eyebrow. “What’s his real name?”
“Uh-” Eddie shrugs. “Freak?”
Gareth shakes his head. The color is back on his face but Eddie wishes he’d go back to hurling his guts out. “If I didn’t know any better, Eddie, I’d say you’re afraid to go on it.”
“Pfffft,” Eddie slaps his knee with a laugh. “I am not.”
“Prove it then,” Gareth says, crossing his arms over his chest.
“What?”
“Go on the Ferris Wheel now.”
“Uh, can I finish my cig first?” Eddie asks, trying to stall.
But his friends won’t let him. “No,” they say at the same time.
Well, shit.
“Ugh, fiiiiiine,” Eddie says, throwing his arms up in a tantrum before snuffing the cig against the table.
He stands up and, flanked by his two friends, starts walking towards the Ferris Wheel. As he does, he considers the pros and cons of fleeing- he’s gotten very good at running from people and neither Gareth nor Jeff are as quick as some of the jocks he’s had to outrun before.
But Eddie realizes he might not need to run away when they reach the line just as the guy manning the ride opens the last car to let the last two people in.
“Won’t you look at that!” Eddie whirls around, clapping his hands together. “It’s full! Oh well, there’s always next year!”
He throws his arms around Jeff and Gareth and starts dragging them away. Only for them to stop in their tracks when there’s a voice behind them.
“We have one spot left!” The guy announces. “One spot left! Who wants to ride?”
Gareth whirls around. “He does!” He says, pointing at Eddie who curses inwardly. “He’ll do it. Right, Eddie?”
Through gritted teeth, Eddie mutters ‘if you insist’ because what other fucking choice does he have?
He makes his way to the front of the line like a man stepping into the gallows, jaw clenched and hands balled up into fists at his sides pausing again just as he’s about to get on.
Because sitting on the Ferris Wheel car is no other than Steve fucking Harrington.
He wants to do this even less now knowing that Harrington will be sitting next to him as he tries not to shit his pants. The last thing he wants is the King of Hawkins High to go around sharing that with everyone.
“Dude, are you getting in or not?” The guy asks when Eddie just stands there, an annoyed tilt to his voice.
Eddie glances over his shoulder to find Gareth and Jeff giving him two thumbs up, matching smirks on their faces. He flips them off, ignoring the scandalized gasp from a mother waiting in line with her son.
Then he glances back at the car- at Harrington, who is staring at him with an impatient bitchy look. The King probably isn’t happy about sharing a Ferris Wheel car with the Freak.
Yeah, well, the feeling is fucking mutual.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m going in,” Eddie says anyway, sliding into his seat. He does his best to ignore Harrington as the guy lowers the safety bar on their laps- as well as the dread that has settled on his belly.
It only grows as they start moving.
“Enjoy your ride,” the guy tells them with fake cheerfulness.
Eddie fights the urge to flip him off too.
“Fuck,” he mutters, grabbing the safety bar with a death grip as their car starts to rise. They keep rocking back and forth and Eddie’s stomach falls out of his ass every time. “Fuck me.”
Next to him, Harrington lets out a snort. “At least buy me dinner first, Munson.”
Eddie snaps his head towards him- Harrington is leaning back against his seat with a smirk, seemingly not caring at all about the fact that they’re about to be thirty feet from the ground. Asshole.
“Hardy-har-har, Harrington,” Eddie says through gritted teeth, trying not to let his voice waver.
As far as comebacks go, it’s a lame one and Harrington must notice. “Geez, man. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m- I’m fine.”
Harrington glances down at Eddie’s hands on the safety bar with a pointed look. “Really? Because you look like you’re trying to snap that bar in half.”
Eddie glances down and sees that he’s white-knuckling the safety bar. He loosens his hold a little. “I’m fine,” he says, voice clipped. “Mind your own business, Your Majesty.”
“Christ, Munson, what’s your problem?” Harrington huffs out a sound halfway between a grunt and a laugh. “And don’t call me that. You don’t hear me calling you Freak.”
To Eddie, they’re not the same. He thought someone like Harrington would enjoy being reminded about his popular status in high school- even if Eddie’s tone is mocking. But it seems the whole King thing struck a nerve.
“My problem is-” Eddie starts, meaning to tell Harrington that it’s him even if Eddie hasn’t had a problem with him in particular since he graduated but then their car jerks and his words trail off into a whimper.
“This fucking deathtrap, shit. Okay, I’m not fine,” he admits, eyes screwed shut as they reach the top. “I'm like terrified of heights, okay? Which is fucking lame and super unmetal of me so go ahead, laugh it up.”
He waits to hear it- Harrington’s laugh but there’s only silence.
Eddie peeks at him through one eye.
“I’m not gonna do that,” Harrington says, his eyebrows knitted in a way that’s frankly kinda cute.
Cute? Jesus Christ, Eddie, not the time.
“Why not?” He asks. “It’s what you jocks do.”
“Yeah, well, I haven’t been a jock for a while, man.”
Eddie guesses that’s true. Even before he graduated, Harrington had stopped being a jock under Eddie’s definition of the word. He still played basketball, but he didn’t pick on Eddie or the other nerds and now he’s not laughing at him for being afraid of heights even though if the roles were reversed Eddie would probably get a few laughs in himself.
Maybe he should cut Harrington some slack.
“Why are you riding the Ferris Wheel anyway?” He asks after a short silence. “If you don’t like heights?”
Another mind your own business rests at the tip of Eddie’s tongue but he did just say he’d cut him some slack. Besides, Eddie is slowly realizing that talking to Harrington is helping keep him distracted from where they are right now.
“Well, my friends think I’m scared-”
“You are,” Harrington interjects with a smirk.
“Yeah, yeah, I am,” Eddie accepts with an eye roll even if he feels his mouth tick up. “But they don’t need to know that, I have a reputation to uphold.”
“With your friends?”
“With my friends, the school.” Eddie clicks his tongue. “ Society.”
Harrington snorts out a startled sort of chuckle, eyebrows raised in amusement. “Well, I won’t tell society,” he says with a conspiratorial smile. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
He bumps their shoulders together and it makes the car tip forward. Eddie bites down on a very embarrassing scream. Harrington grimaces. “Shit, sorry.”
“Why are you- why are you riding the Ferris Wheel?” Eddie asks. “You can’t possibly enjoy this, man.”
“It’s not so bad,” Harrington shrugs. “I like the view, especially at sunset.”
“Ah,” Eddie smiles teasingly. “I bet you bring all the pretty girls up here, hold their hand if they get scared.”
Harrington raises an eyebrow at him. “Are you suggesting I hold your hand, Munson?”
Is he? Eddie looks down at Steve’s hands. They’re nice hands and Eddie has to admit that the thought of holding one of them right now doesn’t exactly make him want to jump off this car.
It makes his heat build in his cheeks actually. “Fuck off, no, I’m-”
“Because I would,” Harrington interjects, “if you wanted me to.”
Eddie’s eyes go wide. “I- uh. You- no, you wouldn’t.”
Harrington tilts his head, watching Eddie with a mixture of amusement and something else. If Eddie didn’t know any better he’d say Harrington finds it endearing- how nervous Eddie is. What the hot fuck?
Harrington holds out his hand, palm up, in the space between them.
Eddie can only stare at it like it’s going to bite him or like Harrington is going to jerk it back and laugh at him for falling for the joke. He does neither. He wiggles his fingers and Eddie, who might be oxygen-deprived from the height, lets go of the bar with one hand, wipes it on his jeans, and grabs Harrington’s.
He links their fingers together loosely and gives Eddie a little half-smirk, half-smile that he bets left a girl or two giggling back in the day. Right now it makes Eddie’s heart stutter in a wildly different way than being this far from the ground does.
The ground, which is currently far, far away. Shit. The reminder makes him grip Harrington’s hand tighter and it’s really nice- warm and soft instead of cold and hard like the safety bar. Eddie looks down at their joined hands, and focuses on that- on how big Steve’s hand is and how many freckles are dusted over the back of it, how he doesn’t seem to mind that Eddie’s rings are probably digging painfully into his skin with how hard he’s holding on to him.
“Better?”
“Yeah,” Eddie admits with a shaky laugh. “Um, thanks, man, for not laughing and like, not being a dick about this.”
“Yeah, well, I’m trying to be less of a dick these days.”
“And how’s that working out for ya?”
Harrington’s nose scrunches up. “I’m alone at the Ferris Wheel, Eddie, so what do you think?”
Eddie chuckles. “Oh, so what am I? Chopped liver?”
“No!” Harrington counters quickly. “Just not who I thought I’d end up riding the Ferris Wheel with.”
“Oh how you wound me, Steve,” Eddie says with an exaggerated pout.
“Shut up, you’re the one who’s wounding me,” he says playfully, using his free hand to gesture at where his other one is still trapped by Eddie’s. “Think you’re cutting off circulation to my hand.”
Eddie loosens his hold a little, his cheeks pinking up again. “Fuck, sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Steve says, giving it a squeeze. “Robin and I went to see this gross movie once called The Thing and I’m pretty sure I almost lost all my fingers from how hard she was gripping my hand.”
Eddie blinks. “Robin Buckley? From band?” He asks and Steve nods. “I didn’t know you two were friends or is it- are you two like-”
Jesus, why do you even care, Munson? Talk about minding your own business.
“Oh no,” Steve replies even if Eddie didn’t finish the question. “I love Robin, but she’s just my friend. My best friend. It’s tectonic.”
Eddie tilts his head. “Do- do you mean platonic?”
“Yeah, that,” Steve says, snapping his fingers and shooting a single finger gun in his direction. “She’s actually down there somewhere with- um, with someone else.”
“Oh, Steve,” Eddie says, shaking his head. “You’re third-wheeling your band nerd best friend? How the mighty have fallen truly.”
Steve groans, throwing his head back but not before Eddie sees how his mouth twitches. “It gets worse, dude. I’m also here babysitting a bunch of fourteen-year-olds who are also nerds. Except for Max, she’s cool, she doesn’t play that- dorks and dweebs game the others are obsessed with.”
“Hold on, I’m sorry, do you mean Dungeons and Dragons?” Eddie sputters, trying to wrap his head around everything he’s learning about Steve- horror movie enjoyer, nerd-sympathizer, a babysitter who sort of knows what Dungeons and Dragons is.
Steve purses his lips. “I think I like my name better.”
“Sure, buddy,” Eddie says with a snort. “Well, I’m sorry to inform you that I run an after-school club for that game so by hanging out with me your cool-o-meter just took an even bigger nose dive.”
“Well, goddamn it, Munson,” Steve says jokingly.
“Bet you wish you got stuck with a pretty girl instead of me, huh, big boy?”
Steve falters at the name that truth be told slipped out of Eddie’s mouth without him realizing. A slight pink tinge shades his cheeks.
It’s nothing compared to the deep shade of red Eddie’s cheeks turn when Steve says, “Actually being stuck with a pretty boy is fine by me.”
A nearly hysterical laugh rushes from Eddie’s lips before he can help it. “A pretty- uh. What?” His heart is doing summersaults in his chest and Eddie tries hard to get it to calm down. Steve could be fucking with him. Fuck, is he? “Are you- Steve. Harrington. Are you fucking with me? ‘Cause you might’ve graduated and you might not be a jock anymore but I know you know what your teammates called me, man, you know I’m- and you fucking with me like that is not cool-”
“Woah, Eddie, hey. I’m not,” Steve assures him, pretty brown eyes wide like a startled deer. “It’s true, okay? You are pretty.”
Oh.
An ugly strangled noise escapes Eddie. “Oh. Okay. Uh.”
Steve runs a hand through his hair and shifts nervously in the seat. “Fuck, just forget I said that, I didn’t want to make things weird, okay? Just- yeah, forget it.”
“Who says I want to?”
Steve’s eyebrows meet in the middle. Cute, Eddie thinks again. Oh, maybe it was the time after all. “Um, your face, man? You look like I splashed you with water and then threw a toaster at you or something.”
“That’s- that’s actually a good way to describe how I feel, yeah,” Eddie agrees. Steve cringes slightly. “Not in a bad way! I’m just surprised! I didn’t know you-” liked boys? liked freaks? liked me?
Whatever he means, Steve gets it. “Yeah, I do,” he says, the tips of his ears turning pink. “It’s fine if you don’t or whatever-”
Eddie opens his mouth to assure him he does in fact like boys and freaks and Steve who might be a freak himself if this Ferris Wheel ride has taught Eddie anything-
Before he can though the Ferris Wheel screeches to a halt, their car rocking in place at the top.
“Why- why are we stopping? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” Steve says, squeezing Eddie’s hand. “It’s the last spin, they’re probably gonna stop each cart at the top for a few minutes.”
Eddie whines pathetically. “What? Why?”
“So people can watch the sunset? Make out?” Steve blushes. “Or something.”
The wind picks up and makes the car rock back and forth and Eddie groans. “Fucking great!”
“Hey, what do you need?” Steve asks, rubbing his thumb over the back of Eddie’s hand. It’s almost enough to distract him from being stuck at the top. Almost.
“To be back on solid ground? Or a distraction. Please distract me, Stevie,” Eddie says, feeling panic bubbling up inside him. He doesn’t even notice when the nickname slips out.
Steve’s eyes flick over his face looking for something. He either finds it or gives up. Either way, he takes a deep breath. “Please don’t punch me for this.”
“Punch you for-”
The last word dies in Eddie’s throat because Steve leans in and presses a kiss to his mouth, effectively shutting him up.
For a beat, neither of them does anything. Then Steve’s free hand cups Eddie’s cheek and he moves his lips. Eddie makes a soft, needy noise in the back of his throat, his eyelids fluttering shut, and then he’s kissing Steve back.
It’s a slow and lazy kiss but it’s enough to make Eddie forget where he is or that he’s supposed to be panicking. He even lets go of the safety bar just so he can get his fingers in Steve’s hair.
They don’t break apart until the Ferris Wheel starts moving again, their car making its way down so they can finally get off this stupid thing.
(Though it might be starting to grow on Eddie. Just a little.)
When they stop again so that the people in the next car can have their go at the top, Eddie’s stomach merely swoops and it might have more to do with the way Steve licks his pink, wet lips than with anything else.
“Well, that’s one way to distract someone,” Eddie says, his voice coming out a little breathless. “Thanks, Stevie.”
Steve snorts, hanging a hand from his neck. “Thanks for not punching me.”
“I’m a lover, not a fighter, baby,” Eddie says and watches delightedly how a flush creeps up Steve’s cheeks at the pet name. “I’d never punch you, your face is too pretty for that.”
A startled laugh tumbles from Steve’s lips. “So I could kiss you again?”
“I could be persuaded to do that again, yeah.” Eddie tilts his head, eyes darting a little anxiously over Steve’s face. “First I gotta know if this is like a ‘what happens in the Ferris Wheel stays in the Ferris Wheel’ kind of thing, you know?”
“Nah,” Steve says with a smile that edges on soft. “I was actually gonna drag you with me to the Hoop Shot game after this. Impress you a little.”
“Oh yeah?” Eddie asks, grinning widely. “Gonna impress me with your jock moves?”
“Mhm. By winning you a stuffed animal too.”
Eddie clicks his tongue. “Stevie, Stevie, Stevie, I told you, I have a reputation to uphold-”
“With society, yeah, yeah. Don’t worry, I’ll get you something metal like a bat! Or a dragon.”
“Hm,” Eddie taps his finger against his chin. “Get me both and it’s a deal!”
Steve’s eyes twinkle. “Does that mean I get two kisses?”
“Oh, sweetheart,” Eddie says, pitching his voice low and deep. Steve’s eyes widen slightly. “You can have way more than that.”
They’re almost at the bottom now which is probably why Steve doesn’t lean in for another kiss right then and there when it’s clear that he wants to. This close to the ground, people could see and the last thing they want is an angry mob waiting for them at the bottom.
They’re happy to just hold hands for what’s left of the ride. Despite Eddie not being scared anymore, neither of them considers letting go, not until the guy from before yanks the safety bar off their laps, stares curiously at their clasped hands for a second before his expression turns bored again, and waves them out of the car.
Eddie climbs out and jogs down the steps, past the people waiting in line. His eyes dart over the people hanging around the Ferris Wheel, looking for Gareth and Jeff but his friends must’ve gotten bored and wandered off at some point because they’re nowhere to be seen. Whatever, he was gonna ditch them to hang out with Steve anyway.
But Steve gets the wrong idea when he sees Eddie scanning the crowd. He scruffs his Nike against the ground and hangs a hand from his neck. “It’s okay if you wanna find your friends-”
“Fuck, no,” Eddie says quickly. “They’re big boys, they can get home on their own. Or not and it serves them right for forcing me to go on that deathtrap!”
“Oh, come on,” Steve says with a playful grin.
“Fine, I guess it wasn’t that bad,” Eddie says, rolling his eyes, the corners of his mouth ticking up. “What about you? You don’t have to find your baby nerds and make sure they’re okay?”
“Nope, those shitheads can take care of themselves,” Steve says. “I have more important things to do.”
“Like me?” Eddie asks with a ridiculous waggle of his eyebrows. It makes Steve tip his head back with a laugh. Eddie’s eyes zero in on the moles in the column on his neck, thoughts drifting to wanting to kiss every single one of them.
“Maybe later,” he tells Eddie with a wink. His stomach swoops and this time it has nothing to do with gravity and heights. “C’mon, man, let’s get you that bat.”
Eddie holds his finger up, wagging it in front of Steve’s face. “And the dragon!” Eddie says, getting all up in Steve’s space as he starts walking in the direction of the Hoop Shot game. “Don’t forget the dragon!”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, Munson.”
(Steve gets him the bat. And the dragon. And cotton candy. And later follows Eddie home after dropping off his herd of fourteen-year-olds. Eddie lets him have two kisses and more just like he promised.)
(And he rides more than just the Ferris Wheel that day.)
#soft steddie september#softsteddieseptember#steddie#steddie fic#stranger things fic#stranger things#i'm a day late for this week but i was sick for three days and couldn't do more than watch Netflix so i hope i can be forgiven#i've always wanted to write a different first meeting and i finally did woohoo#steve harrington#eddie munson#monse writes
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