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notjustjavierpena · 3 months

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Diner

A/N: My first darkfic and based on that one picture of Pedro in Freaky Tales. READ THE TAGS!!!!

Summary: You get more than you paid for during your visit to a roadside diner.

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

Tags: +18 smut, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, non-con, degrading language, condescending language, blood and violence, threats of violence, forced masturbation, forced orgasm, forced creampie, reader does NOT enjoy this!

Word count: 3.3k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52941784

Diner

Something about roadside diners makes you feel like you are in an alternate universe. It starts the second that you step out of your car and onto the asphalt, a weird sensation of not being in the real world overtaking you as you listen to the cars drive by at a dizzying speed. There are a few cars here already, but you suspect that most of them belong to the people staying at the motel just next to the small and informal restaurant instead of people eating dinner. It is late after all, so late that you can see you are just in time for a coffee before they close.

You’ve been driving home in the summer heat for your sister’s wedding, crossing state lines for days now to make it in time, and it means quick dinners, cheap coffee, and sleeping in your car. At this point, you’ve actually come to like the greasy fried food and the coffee that almost resembles tar with how strong it is. It helps you regulate your body temperature in the car, forcing you to cool down because it’s scalding hot in your stomach.

A tiny bell rings as you walk through the door. The checkered tile floor seems slightly sticky as you move through the place with the taste of stale coffee already present on your tongue as if the setting has triggered a memory. You notice the single customer sitting in a booth along the window, all broad shoulders and sleeves rolled up as he eats two slices of toast with eggs and bacon, but you don’t think much of the man as much as you think about eating breakfast foods at night. It’s always oddly satisfying, weirdly rebellious.

You squeeze in between two chairs from the line along the counter. You brush away a few granules of sugar from it, smiling slightly as you are approached by what you assume is the only staff at this time.

“Just coffee?” The lady behind the counter asks as she notices you not looking at the menu and not checking out the pie underneath a glass dome to your left.

“That’d be great,” you reply.

“And no milk or nothin’?” She continues.

You shake your head no and look around at nothing of importance the second she walks away to start up the coffee machine. It gurgles a few moments later.

Behind you, the man has finished his meal. He gets out of the booth to use the restroom, leaving you to sip your coffee alone with the waitress who makes no effort to start up a conversation with you (then again, you don’t start chatting with her either).

Time passes. The song playing from the radio in the background ends. The stranger reemerges and shakes his hands dry on his way to his table again. He doesn’t sit but instead carries his plate to the counter.

“Thanks, Doris, great like always,” he smiles, turning to you briefly to acknowledge your presence. He nods in greeting.

“Anytime, Joel,” Doris blinks at him, batting her lashes. She is clearly infatuated, and you can understand why; the two of them seem to be about the same age. Joel is tall with broad shoulders in an open flannel with a t-shirt underneath, his hands look rough and used to hard labor, and his hair is slicked back by what you don’t know whether is gel or sweat but it looks like he has run his fingers through it several times today.

“Well, I’m off, see ya tomorrow,” he turns to go gather his things at the table where he has been eating. You think nothing more of it.

“Anything else, honey?” Doris asks and you shake your head.

“No thanks,” you say politely, “I’m all good.”

“I’ll have my smoke break then,” she states, untying her apron and hanging it on the wall only to proceed to dig out a package of cigarettes from the pocket on the front, “You can just leave the money on the counter when you leave.”

And then it’s just you and Joel and an eerie feeling settles in your stomach at being alone with a man you don’t know, especially in between cities and even moreso at night.

You glance over your shoulder to watch him carefully but he is just picking through his wallet to leave a tip on the table. You look straight ahead again and shake your head at how ridiculous you feel about your anxiety, rolling your eyes at how you could think such things about someone who is having eggs at midnight.

Still, something feels wrong. You steal another glance over your shoulder and see the table with the empty plate, and the crumbled bill beside it. What you don’t see is Joel, which is weird because you haven’t heard the bell from the door being opened and clo-

A rough hand settles on the back of your neck. It grips you hard until it hurts, causing you to crane your neck and gasp loudly into the room. Joel’s voice makes your skin crawl, “Fuck, you are pretty.”

You hear a deep inhale through the nose followed by a satisfied sigh, “Smell pretty too. Been driving all day alone?”

“What are you doing?” You are frozen to the spot. He has trapped you between the counter, two barstool chairs, and himself. The hand holding you in place is uncomfortable but mostly, its iron grip has started to make you lightheaded due to his thumb and index finger pressing into your carotid artery. It makes you not want to move in case he grabs harder.

“I just realized that I haven’t had dessert in a while ‘n’ pie just doesn’t seem to cut it,” he replies, breathing labored already from how he has control over what your body can or cannot do. The words make you squirm but you still, for some reason, haven’t thought about screaming for help.

“No,” your voice quivers and bravely you try to decline the offer, “I don’t want that. Please.”

“Afraid you’ll like it too much?” You can feel he has moved his head closer, can feel the smirk in his voice. You feel sick like you might actually puke if you weren’t working on an empty stomach.

“Doris’ll come back,” you reason.

“She’s closing up in ten,” he laughs as if it’s the most ridiculous thing he has ever heard, “She’ll use every second of those ten minutes to have what she considers fresh air but I don’t think we need much longer, do you?”

You whimper, and then suddenly you’re on the move but it’s not by yourself. No. Joel is hauling you backward, moving you around like you weigh nothing, and causing your feet to stumble several times. However, he doesn’t seem bothered by your clumsiness caused by terror, just uses a bit more force until he can shove you down onto an empty table.

That’s when you feel panic starting to rise in your body. You start thrashing, grabbing at whatever you can reach on the table to throw it down onto the floor and make a racket. You cry too, shock setting in and causing tears to flow desperately as emotions become too much. This is it, you think, this is what prey must feel when they’re trying to escape.

Joel growls in anger, holding you roughly in place so your efforts are to no avail, “Shut the fuck up. Stop crying.”

You absolutely don’t. That is until your forehead and nose connect with the surface of the table. Joel has pushed you on the back of your head so harshly that your face has been violently knocked down onto the table, and it hurts, prickling in your nostrils and nausea settling more in your stomach. The impact makes you feel dizzy enough to not continue fighting him.

A sudden taste of iron fills your mouth. You are bleeding from your nose, you realize, and it replaces the salty taste of your tears and drips onto the surface of the table. Pathetically, you try grabbing at anything in front of you and you end up smearing the bloodstains across the white. It’s not the sight that makes you gag but the fact that Joel seems aroused by it.

“Relax,” he responds to your whine, “‘tis just a bit of blood.”

But that’s not what causes your noise. It’s the position you are in; it makes your ass stick out and Joel’s crotch rests against it whilst he reaches out for your hair, bunching it up in his strong hand and creating a makeshift ponytail to tug on. You try to make sense of what is happening but all you can focus on is how big he seems in his jeans, rock hard against you as he yanks your head up by the hair. It may be your foggy mind’s way of protecting yourself from realizing what this is, particularly because you had a brief thought earlier about how nice his hands would feel if they touched you. They feel horrible.

When he straightens behind you, his free hand starts tugging on your pants. He is rough in his movements but careful enough to make sure that nothing rips, knowing he shouldn’t leave evidence of your ravish behind.

“Please,” you slur with desperation.

“No begging now,” he purposely misunderstands, “I’ll give you what you need real soon, sweetheart.”

When your pants sit around your knees, he lets the hand go down between your legs. Your mind is suddenly very clear.

“Are you a virgin?” He asks with a dark smile evident in his voice. His hand skims along the inside of your thigh, and you feel your feet trying to move away. His fingertips are so close to where you don’t want them. He kicks your ankles hard enough to make you unable to breathe, unable to balance on your feet so you can’t even try to flee.

You whimper in reply.

The satisfied growl he lets out sends a shiver down your spine, cold sweat making you feel lightheaded.

“No,” you finally manage to stutter out, trying to convince yourself that replying is going to make the heartbeat in your chest less intense as you’ve made yourself less interesting to him. Instead, you realize that you have only disappointed him.

“Just when I got my hopes up,” he tuts, suddenly palming your cunt through your underwear. You want to scream and cry but somehow, you simply cannot and it dawns on you that your body is too scared of making him furious to do your most instinctive act of fighting back, “Can’t say I’m happy, but I am surprised at having a whore on my hands. Wait till I tell the guys back home ‘bout you, they’ll be so envious.”

His fingers curl around the fabric of your panties. He tugs them down your thighs and the fabric snaps at the violent yanks that he does. It was only the pants, you think, it was only those that needed to be saved for keeping up appearances.

The way the skin of his hand touches your bare thighs feels like fire, and you don’t know whether to feel relief that nothing has happened yet or become hysterical when your underwear sits around your knees too; you know the rest, know what he is about to do and now, you just have to wait for it to be over.

And then briefly, it’s gone but you don’t dare think that he might have changed his mind but when you lift your head, you can see him in the reflection of the window, sucking on his own fingers to wet them until they’re shiny with saliva.

“Stay still,” he commands, and the hand on the back of your neck slides down so he can rest his forearm on the small of your back to still hold you down. His wetted fingers go right between your legs to search for your clit, and he presses down on it until you let out a whimper from a sudden state of arousal slowly taking over your body.

He rubs you off for a few minutes where you fight every single nerve in your body to not enjoy it but suddenly you let out your first involuntary moan, pussy starting to wet against your will and shame setting in. You rest your cheek against the table, tears sliding down over your nose as you occasionally moan helplessly. Your poor treacherous body burns deep below your navel, and the tingling in your core makes you think that maybe, just maybe, it won’t be so bad.

“That’s it,” he says in a gentle voice, a tone that makes you hold back a gag, “Knew you wanted it, just needed a little encouragement.”

“Please,” you sob, “I can pay you.”

“I don’t want cash,” he replies simply, sliding his digits through your slick, “I want you, sweetheart, and it seems this pussy wants me too.”

Joel’s fingers leave you and you hear him suck his fingers clean with a hum. The air feels cool against your swollen cunt which is so wet by now that you start to believe, albeit barely, that a part of you wants this. How can you say you don’t when you are close to dripping?

“I’m gonna let go of you now but if you try anything, I’ll cut your fucking tits off with a steak knife, got it?” Joel’s threat doesn’t seem empty.

You nod, paralyzed, and he stretches. You shiver at the sound of his belt unbuckling and his zipper being pulled down. There’s a bit of shuffling and then you feel the blunt head of his dick poking into your ass.

He doesn’t waste his time it seems, because he rubs the tip through your wetness and starts to breach you. Color drains from your face at the realization of his size.

“No, no no no,” you pant as he pushes into you. He teases you open but only at first; you let out a sharp cry as he enters you fully and with no warning. The head had been a warning of how big he was going to be but now that he is sheathed inside of you to the brim, you feel like nothing could have ever prepared you for his size even if you had wanted him. He kisses your cervix, splits you open, and your cunt clenches in an attempt to push him out and pull him in.

“Fuck,” he moans and draws out the word, “Tight heaven.”

He fucks you like a ravenous animal and you turn into a helplessly moaning mess, held down to the point where your hips are hurting against the table because Joel uses all of his weight to pleasure himself with you.

His fingers dig into your hips enough to bruise and his zipper gnaws into the back of your thigh. You have never taken anyone as big as him before, and it’s almost an out-of-body experience to be stretched out again and again by him. He swears above you, rhythm faltering, every time you accidentally find a shred of pleasure in his thrusts.

You feel fucked out of your mind but you are stuck there, having to take each bruising thrust that sends pain shooting through your body each time Joel’s cock bumps the back of your cunt (which is every other crash of his hips due to his size).

“Ah,” you whimper shamefully when he nudges against your g-spot. It takes some of the pain away, and soon, you let out a breathless gasp. Would you actually enjoy him if circumstances had been different? If he’d chatted you up and booked a room at the motel next door?

You close your eyes, squeezing them shut. It leaves you to focus on the way that your cunt squelches from your wetness, how Joel grunts behind you as he continues driving into you.

“Listen to that, you really think your whore-pussy would sound like that if you didn’t want this?” He taunts.

“No, Joel,” you say without any tone to your voice.

“You wanna come, sweetheart? Touch yourself,” he pulls you back by your hips a little until you are able to move your hand to your crotch. His thrusts relent and bring you relief from your throbbing and pained muscles. You don’t move, and he grows impatient and cruel. You almost want to laugh at the contrast of his next line but you find yourself too scared of the unknown, “You think you get a choice here, you little bitch? Do it now.”

Reluctantly, your hand slides down between your legs but you still feel relief as you start touching yourself. In the moment, you try to remind yourself of what you like to do when it’s just you alone and you find that your cunt stirs with interest. It’s followed by a string of ahs as you begin to actually enjoy it, circling your clit with determination to finish.

“That’s it, wanna feel you milk me,” his breath is more ragged now. He is close you realize, and he is not going to pull out.

It feels shameful when you make yourself come, cunt setting off into spasms that should feel beautiful but just makes you hate yourself for enjoying the way they make you feel. You moan louder than intended, completely at the mercy of the pleasure that has been built up deep inside of you and is now coursing through your nervous system.

Joel seems to understand your conflict, radiating claustrophobic warmth as he speeds up his hips as if he is using your body to masturbate with you. His voice is breathy as he talks, he sounds nearly on the edge of coming, “Shh… It’s supposed to feel good. It should feel good.”

He finishes inside of you a moment later, warm and sticky with a looming threat of what could happen from this act. The groan he lets out is one you don’t think you will forget. He gives you his final thrusts, fucking you through each spurt of his cock, “Take it, oh fuck. Thaaat’s it.”

Time stands still after that. You don’t move despite him removing himself from you. Instead, you listen to him tugging himself back into his jeans, the rustling of the denim, and then the noise of his zipper and him buckling his belt.

After a moment more, his hands pull up off your shredded underwear and then he tugs your jeans up over your hips again. He hauls you up and holds your arms tightly so you don’t fall over once more. You don’t look at him and it seems to infuriate him. With a strong grip around your jaw, he forces your head towards him, “Hey, look at me.”

When you still don’t, he shakes your head a little, “Eyes here.”

You eventually follow through, vision blurry from how much you have cried. He scans your face, “You don’t tell anyone about this or I swear. I don’t usually hunt down pretty girls like you but I will. You go into your car and you drive away. I’ll watch you from here. Got it?”

Your body aches as you nod but your expression is blank, even when Joel pushes you out of his grip so you stumble and even when you see him stuff your panties into his pocket.

“Go,” he snaps when you’re still immovable.

You don’t know how but suddenly, you’re walking out the door, barely noticing where your feet hit the ground, and doing exactly what he has said. You probably shouldn’t even be driving let alone on the highway but you do until you feel nothing at all except his come dripping from your aching cunt.

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hsrockstargf · 3 months

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Object of Desire*

AN: this is my first time posting on here so please be gentle☺️

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summary: Honey Rose, one of the most sought after adult film actress, get picked to do a scene for director Harry Styes. What happens when she finds out that he will be the one doing the scene with her?

work count: 7.5k

tropes: pornstarry

warnings: 18+, language, explicit smut, fluff

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Lights, Camera, Action.

I’ve always wanted to hear those words be uttered before a scene- to feel the adrenaline rush as I make the script come to life. As a little kid I would whisper them to myself before I would put on a short skit for my grandma, and it made me feel like I was a real movie star. Now at 26 years old- I am the furthest thing from a movie star, but I guess an actress could be the term for my job.

The adrenaline that I love to feel rush through my veins is present as well as the nervousness that is making my hands sweat slightly. The possibilities of today swirl around my mind as I walk down the long corridor to meet the director of today’s shoot.

I never thought this is what I would be doing to keep a roof over my head and food in my belly, but I can’t say I’m disappointed. What started out as occasionally posing for a lingerie company to help me get through school turned into signing up for an OnlyFans and making $7,000 a week.

I never did anything too risque on my page, only posting pictures of me half naked without showing my face and occasionally taking a few requests from subscribers. My following grew exponentially and it continued until I didn’t know how to manage all of the content people were asking me to film.

A few months ago, a manger reached out to me wanting to represent me. Although this was a far fetch from the job I’ve always wanted, I couldn’t turn it down. Having sex in front of a camera with a whole team watching you and a million more waiting to see it with a person you barely know is scary and intimidating- but I took the job anyway. I like the money and sometimes the sex is actually quite enjoyable when I can get out of my own head.

This particular job came as a surprise to both me and my manager. Usually, my manager would reach out to a filming company, give them my head shots, and then wait to hear back if they wanted to use me for the scene they were wanting to film, but for this one the director himself reached out to my manager. Apparently, he had seen some of my work and wanted me to be one of the stars in his new video.

Harry Styles- is the biggest name in the porn industry and someone you don’t say no to. Not only is he one of the hottest and sought after pornstars, but he is also known for being a fantastic director. Every single one of his videos has at least a million views, if not more; they are hot and sensual, plucked right from all the fantasies that I’ve stored away in my brain. He started out just like everyone else, at the bottom of the totem pole, but he became so successful so fast that everyone in the industry wanted to work with him. Recently, he’s been focusing more on the directing side of his job, foregoing the acting part which many people have complained about, but of course he doesn't care.

I’m not embarrassed to admit that I’ve gotten myself off multiple times from watching him. Just listening to his deep, slow, and raspy voice would make my cunt slick before reaching into my night stand to grab my purple bullet vibrator. I would press it to my clit and circle it around while I watched him kiss down the length of the random girl’s body before he would uncover her wet pussy and taste her for the first time. He would use both his tongue and fingers to get her off before fucking her into the matress, making her scream out in pleasure as he takes her from behind and slaping the plump flesh of her ass as she comes on his thick cock. He would fuck her through her orgasm, and the sound of both of their moans would make my stomach swirl with pleasure. I would always tease myself, not letting myself come until I knew he was about to orgasm. To not disturb my neighbors, I would flip around on my belly with my vibrator still pressed closely to my swollen clit and bite into my pillow as I listened to his deep moans as he came, finally finding my release alongside him.

It’s gonna be hard for me to look him in the eye today and not picture him like that; to not think of the way his back muscles flex while hovering over his partner, thrusting into them as hard and fast as he can or the way the vein on his neck pops out when he tilts his head back in pleasure. I don’t even know if I’ll be able to focus on my costar as Harry directs us, only focusing on him and what he wants from me.

“Honey?” A small woman stands in front of me, holding a clipboard and a pair of headphones hanging around her neck. “Honey Rose?”

“Yeah, that’s me. Sorry, I guess I’m a little distracted.” I answer to my stage name, and laugh off my embarrassment. She giggles along with me, easing my nerves.

With an extended hand she says, “Hi, I’m Jenny, Harry’s assistant.” I take her hand and offer her a smile. “I’ll be showing you around and then I’ll take you to meet him.” After we shake hands she pulls away and turns around. “Follow me and I’ll show you where you can put your stuff.”

We make small talk while walking down the hallway towards an unknown destination. Jenny rattles off all the things she did this morning, preparing for the shoot and she also tells me how excited Harry is to meet me.

My stomach once again flips at the thought of being in his presence, but I don’t get a chance to think about it more when Jenny stops in front of a door that says ‘Honey Rose.’

“I get my own dressing room?”

Jenny looks at me with her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Of course you do. Have you never had one before?” She opens the door, stepping to the side to let me walk in the room first. “Harry always makes sure his stars are taken care of.”

I shake my head while walking in the room. It’s nothing too extravagant, with a love seat couch tucked in the corner with a small coffee table in front of it and a vanity on the far left wall, but it’s nicer than anything I’ve gotten before. Usually I have to get undressed in front of all the crew before slipping into a robe, so having this space puts me at ease.

At least I’ll have some privacy throughout this shoot.

“If you just wanna set your stuff down I’ll take you to meet Harry. He’s just now finishing setting up the bedroom set.” I take my coat off and hang it over the back of the chair and then place my purse on the coffee table. “You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” I stick my hands in my pockets to hide the fact that they are shaking and follow after Jenny. For being as tiny as she is she sure can walk fast and I find myself wishing she would slow down so I can prepare myself.

The set is a normal looking bedroom. It’s cozy, warm, and inviting. The bed is dawned in white sheets, a white duvet, and a tan throw with brown pillows. The bedside tables are decorated with items to make it look like someone actually lives here and a mirror leans against the wall across from the bed.

There aren't a lot of people in this room right now, some are setting up certain light fixtures and others are testing out the equipment, but I immediately know which one is Harry. Dressed in long black flared trousers and a matching black shirt, he stands next to the mirror, angling it so it perfectly aims at the head of the bed.

He hasn’t noticed us yet, but when Jenny clears her throat he looks up in the mirror and immediately makes eye contact with me. “Harry, this is -”

“Honey Rose.” My fake name rolls off his lips and I find myself begging to hear him use my real name. “I know who she is, Jenny. Would be kind of hard not to know.” Harry stuffs one hand in his pocket and makes his way over to me. “I’m Harry.” He extends his hand out to me and it takes me a second before I do the same.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you, Harry.” I hope he doesn’t see the school girl blush on my cheeks, but I can’t help but find myself so taken with him. His hair falls perfectly in waves in a slight middle part that frames his face. There is a shadow of facial hair surrounding his jaw and around his lips, drawing attention to the pinkness of them. His eyes shine bright compared to the darkness of his hair; beautiful sea green staring straight at me. The tattoos on his arm stand out and I find myself looking over each and every one, but then I remember that I’m still holding onto his hand. I let go rather quickly and he chuckles at me. “I’m excited to work with you. I’ve heard nothing but great things.”

“Well, I should hope so.” Two dimples pop out on the sides of his cheeks as he smiles while pushing his hair back and off his forward. “But I’m curious, are they talking about my directing skills or how I fuck?”

I keep myself composed, even though all I want to do is tell him that my information is coming from the videos that I’ve watched of him. I gather up all the confidence in my body and say, “Both, but I guess I’ll only be seeing one of those talents today.”

A confused look flashes across his face, but he doesn’t let it last. His lips perk up and he quietly says, “We’ll see about that.” Now it's my turn to be confused. I open my mouth to ask him what he means by that but he stops me. “Honey, would you mind joining me in my office? I just want to go over a few things with you, if that’s all right.”

“Of course. Whatever you need.” Harry places his hand on my lower back and escorts us out of the room. His office isn’t too far away, but the walk is filled with a thick tension. He ushers me in, and tells me to sit on the couch like the one similar to mine in my dressing room. Harry takes a seat next to me, not sitting behind the desk which honestly makes me feel more equal to him.

“As you may know, my videos are praised for how real and authentic they seem. I don’t do the corny pizza delivery guy bullshit or any of those cheesy porns that have terrible dialogue and even worse acting. I like to make everyone on set feel comfortable, so that they can actually feel the pleasure instead of faking it. Does that make sense?” He crosses one of his legs over the other, and the way his trousers move it showcases his thick thighs bulging under the surface of the fabric.

“It makes perfect sense, and I really respect what you are doing here. Most of the time they just throw me in a room with a guy and just tell me to fuck him.”

“I can promise you that’s not gonna be the case today, but I do need to ask you a few questions. You can answer whichever ones you want or not if you don’t want to.” I nod my head at him, telling him I understand. That smirk reappears on his face, but this time I don’t get so flushed. The way he’s looking at me makes me want to sit on top of his desk and have his head be buried in my cunt. “I just need to know so I can fuck you just how you like it.”

“Y-you’re gonna be the one fu- in the scene with me?” My heart rate picks up in anticipation and I hope I didn’t just hear him wrong. He hasn’t done a video in such a long time. Why would he start now?

“That wasn’t the original plan.” Harry stands up, walking closer to me before crouching down in front of me. His knees touch mine and even through the fabric of both of our clothes I can feel his warm skin. “When I was looking for the girl for this shoot I came across one of your videos.” Harry’s fingertip grazes over my knee and he starts to draw circles on it. “It was just you, laying on a bed, with a vibrator on your pretty little pussy.” He looks up at me, and grabs a hold of my jaw. “You had beautiful moans coming from these lips. I just knew that I couldn’t sit there and watch someone fuck you, not when I could be the one doing it.”

I turn my head, still keeping eye contact with him. His thumb that was on my jaw now rests against the skin of my lips. I puker them, softly kissing his thumb before taking it into my mouth for just a moment. “You want to fuck me, Harry?” His eyes are dark, lustfully watching as I kiss his thumb, suck on it, and then let it plop from between my lips.

“Oh, honey.” Harry moves his hand away from my face, placing it on my knee again. With both hands, he pushes my thighs apart and situates himself between them. “You have no fucking clue.” I burn under his gaze. His touch is light and teasing, kneading the muscles of my thighs while he looks up at me. “I still need you to answer a few questions for me. Can you do that for me, honey?”

“Please, call me Emma.” I don’t mind being called Honey. In fact it makes me feel confident and sexy, but right now I just want to feel real with him.

“Okay, Emma. Are you okay with me warming you up before we shoot? I can do it right here, spread you out and make you come on my fingers so you're more sensitive while we film. You need to be warm, wet, and ready for me.”

Harry kisses up the length on my pant leg, placing his lips right on top of the sem and stopping when he gets close to my center. “Yes, please make me come, Harry.” After I give him the okay, he doesn't waste a second before undoing the button on my pants and pulling them down my legs. He takes in the sight of my red lace thong and by the way the air creates a cool sensation on my panties, I know I’m wet for him; and he can see it.

“I’m gonna ask you a few questions, but you have to promise me that you’ll answer them truthfully, okay?”

Harry patiently awaits an answer, starting to slowly kiss up my thigh. He kisses both of my knees and continues to switch between both legs as he travels upwards until he reaches my midthigh and sits back up. “Yeah, I-I’ll answer them.”

“Let’s start with an easy one.” Harry drags his hands across my skin, nails scratching slightly. He finds my hips, tracing his thumb in the crease where my hip bends from sitting down. “Are you okay with me kissing you?”

“Yes, I actually prefer it.” With the grip on my hip, he pulls me to the edge of the couch so I’m barely even sitting on it. He leans into me, pressing his chest against mine as he tucks himself into my neck.

“Hmm,” His curls tickle my cheek, his sweet smell overpowers me, and his nose teases up my neck. “Is there anything that’s a hard no for you during sex?” I don’t want to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

The fact that he isn’t even asking me these questions puts me at ease. Though I haven’t had a lot, my costars never asked me what I was or wasn’t comfortable with. The directors never cared, only making sure every piece of dialogue and every cue on the script was hit.

“You can do anything to me. If it’s you doing it, I know I’ll like it.”

“You’re stroking my ego here, Em.”

The tip of his nose grazes my jawline before it's replaced by his lips. He is still holding onto my hips and even though I love his hands there I wish he would touch me elsewhere. Just from him being this close to me, my cunt is slick and my clit is throbbing, waiting to be touched.

“I’ve watched you before. I know how you fuck, so anything you want to do go right on ahead. I can take you, Harry.”

“Oh, I have no doubts about that.” Placing a kiss on my cheek, he stands up and sits down next to me again. “Stand up.” Obeying, I stand up on shaking legs and turn to face him. Legs spread, arms stretched out along the back of the couch, and a smirk on his face, Harry sits there eyeing me up and down. “Strip for me. Let me see what’s mine for today.”

I cross my arms, grabbing the hem of my t-shirt and pulling it over my head. His eyes move to my chest, taking in the matching red lace bra. Harry takes one arm off the back of the couch to adjust himself in his pants as he continues to take me in. “You know, it’s not fair that I’m half naked and you’re still completely clothed.”

Harry clears his throat and reaches out to grab my hips to turn me around. “This isn't about me.” His fingers find the band on my underwear and my breath hitches when he starts to slowly pull them down. In the wake of the fabric, he kisses where it once laid. “So sit down on my lap.” Pulling on my hips, he sits my naked bottom half on his fully clothed lap. “Spread your legs.” I hook a leg over each one of his thighs and lean back onto his chest. “And let me make you come, so I can fuck you how I want later.”

The rings on his fingers are cold on my blazing skin. Touching over the expanse of my stomach, my hips, my thighs and briefly the tops of my breasts he teases me with everything I want while simultaneously avoiding the place I need him most.

My pussy is soaked with my arousal, dripping down and probably landing on his trousers, but at this moment I can’t find it in myself to care.

“Do you want me to just rub your clit and get you off that way, or do you want me fingers? Stretch you out a little bit so I fit nice and snug in you?”

I tilt my head to the side to find him already looking at me. Our lips are so close I fainting feel his skin, but we both don’t make the move to lean in; to fuel the fire we both feel growing. “Want your fingers. Please.”

Harry looks down at my lips for a brief second before turning his head away from me. Out of the corner of my eye I see him looking at my body that’s spread out for him and the lust in his eyes is unmistakable.

I take advantage of his head facing forward and tuck my face in the crook of his neck. He smells even better this close up. His smell is sweet, reminding me of walking into a bakery while also being smokey, like a fresh campfire on a fall evening.

I repeat his actions from early, gliding my nose across his neck. When his fingers finally touch my cunt I whimper into his skin. I accidentally bite into his neck from the shock of finally feeling him. “Hey. You can’t mark me yet, Em. Wait until later and you can leave your marks anywhere you want.”

The tips of his fingers trace over my entrance, gathering up all the wetness caused by him. He drags them up and uses my arousal to start slowly drawing circles on my clit. Instead of biting him I kiss down the side of his neck to try and quiet my cries of pleasure.

“Maybe I didn’t even need to warm you up. You were soaked before I even touched you.”

In my desire induced haze I accidentally say, “I always get so wet for you.” My cheeks heat up with embarrassment and if I could bury myself into his neck anymore I would.

“Oh?” His fingers speed up, making me squirm in his lap. “Are you telling me you’ve watched my videos while rubbing this little clit of yours? You’ve came from watching me fuck someone else. Is that what you’re telling me?”

From the bulge pressing into my ass, it’s obvious this is turning him on. I let my embarrassment slip away and just let myself be in the moment with him. “Yes, Harry. I’ve always wanted to fuck you.”

“Well, it’s my lucky day isn't it, baby?” He doesn’t warn me before filling my pussy with his fingers. Long, thick, and ring clad, his fingers work against my g-spot. Combined with the teasing and his relentless strokes on my clit, my stomach begins to tingle and the muscles in my cunt squeeze around his fingers.

“God, Harry. I’m so fucking close.” His movements are slow and skillful, not needing to go fast and hard to make me reach my end.

“You’re a sensitive little thing, aren’t you?” His fingers stop fucking me, but he presses his fingertips up into my g-spot and massages the spot that makes me see stars. Somehow he’s lifted the hood of my clit so he’s directly on my nerves. “Can’t wait to get you underneath me, so I can fuck you into the sheets. Spread your pussy out and take you just like I fucking want.”

I throw my head back on his shoulder, needing some fresh air. My lungs can hardly keep up with my shallow breaths and I’m so dizzy I feel like I could pass out. “Please, Harry. I need to cum.”

“You don’t have to ask me. Just let go, honey. Make a mess of me.”

And so I do. I feel myself clench around his fingers and my ears start to ring. The sound of his voice telling me how good I am filters through the noise, but for the most part I can’t focus on anything except the pure bliss running through my veins. Harry kisses my cheek, as he coaxes me through my orgasm. “Good girl, Em.”

I fully relax into his chest as I come down from the high. He slips his fingers out from me and puts them up to my mouth. “I would love nothing more than to taste you right now, but I want to make sure the first time I do it’s caught on camera.”

Harry drags my come across my bottom lip before slipping his fingers into my mouth. He lets me take my time cleaning his fingers up and he keeps eye contact with me the whole time.

“What do we do now?” I ask after his fingers leave my mouth.

“You are gonna go get a snack, get your hair and makeup done, and get dressed.” He pinches my bare hip which makes me yelp, but he just smiles at me. “But you gotta get off my lap so you can do that.”

It’s crazy to see him go from this sexy dominant male to someone who is also playful. It makes my heart beat faster in my chest when he looks at me with a smile.

I climb off him and go to grab a tissue from his desk to clean off the mess between my thighs. “Nope. None of that.” He snatches the tissue from my hand and puts it in his pocket.

“I can’t clean myself up?” I cross my arms over my chest and for a second I forget I’m just in my bra, but I’m reminded when Harry’s eyes travel down to my tits.

“No.” He walks over to my underwear that were haphazardly discarded and kneels before me. Tapping on the side of my ankle, he silently tells me to raise my foot so he can dress me. “While you are getting ready I want you to think about how wet you are. I want you to feel your come on your thighs and think about what we are gonna do. How I’m gonna fuck you. How I’m gonna make you come again.” He kisses my hip bone before standing up, dragging the fabric along with it. Harry makes sure it’s in place and snaps the band against my skin. “I’ll see you later, honey.”

Throughout getting my hair and makeup done I shift unfavorably in my seat. My underwear is absolutely ruined from my orgasm, but now it's slick with my want for Harry. I can’t stop thinking about what we are about to do.

In front of me lies my ‘script’. There isn’t much in it other than some lines I need to say. The premise of the whole video is a couple waking up tangled in the sheets together after being away from each other for a while.

I think about what I plan on doing to him as the girls around me talk amongst themselves. Usually I would partake in these conversations and make friends with them, but right now my brain can only focus on one thing.

They curl my hair, fluff it out and apply some light makeup to my face. I didn't want any foundation on because it will just get smudged anyway and I don’t want to look sloppy, so all I have on is some mascara and a light lip gloss.

A silk black robe is wrapped around my body with my skin bare underneath and matching black slippers are on my feet. It was awkard taking my clothes off in front of the wardrobe person, especially considering the poor excuse of fabric that was my underwear.

The air is cold in the hallway as I walk towards the studio room and I know everyone that passes me can see my nipples through my robe.

The room that was once filled with maybe five people now houses twelve. It’s hard to walk in the room with how many bodies there are and I barely see Harry through the crowd. I protectively shield my chest away from prying eyes and lower my head.

Harry has changed from earlier, now wearing a black fitted t-shirt that shows off his muscles and a pair of grey sweatpants. I can tell by the bulge in his pants that he isn’t wearing any underwear and the sight instantly makes my mouth water.

He finds my eyes across the room and at first he smirks at me, taking in my skimpy robe and the exposed skin on my thighs. He must see the apprehension in my eyes because he looks around the room and shakes his head. “Anyone who doesn’t absolutely need to be in here needs to get out.”

Disapproving sighs are heard around the room, but they don’t hesitate to listen to him. Harry is known for being a sweet and caring guy but I’ve also heard that he isn’t afraid to put his foot down when he needs to.

He waits until all unnecessary personnel exit the room, being left with the camera man and the sound lady. “Are you ready?” Harry kneels on the opposite side of the bed and puts his hands on his hips.

“More than ready.” I pull the blanket back, ready to slip under the covers and Harry does the same. “Do you usually wear that to bed?” I say referring to his outfit.

“I could ask you the same.” He grabs the sting that keeps my robe closed and tugs on it, not hard enough to open it, but just enough to pull me closer to him.

“No. I usually sleep naked. Shouldn’t we make this as natural as possible?” I wink at him and pull his hands so the string gets loose. The silk moves against my skin as the front opens, but I only allow Harry to see me.

His eyes drink me in, looking at every exposed piece of skin I have to offer. “Are you trying to be the director now? Trying to steal my job are you?”

“Maybe.” I shrug. “I bet I could do a better job.”

Harry reaches into my robe, pinches my hip and says, “Get that robe off and get under the covers.” The dimples that I’ve come to love poke out as I do as he says.

Harry walks over to the two other people in the room and says something inaudible as I get myself comfortable. He must have told them to leave, because after they check the equipment they both turn around and leave. I’m used to people seeing me naked now and I’m not ashamed of having sex in front of people. In all actuality it turns me on knowing that people are watching me and my partner, but we are only focused on each other.

“You didn’t have to kick them out. This isn’t my first rodeo.” I lay my head up against the headboard and watch as he starts to take his shirt off. No matter how many times I see his bare chest I still swoon every time. This is my first time seeing it in person and I can't wait to leave little love marks on him like he said I could earlier.

“I know. I didn’t want them in here.”

“Why?”

“Just didn’t want them to be in here.” He bends down to take his sweats off, only leaving him in his underwear, before climbing into bed with me.

“Won’t it be hard without them in here?”

Harry turns towards me and leans on his elbow. “Those cameras over there are already filming and there are mics around the room to pick up your pretty noises that men are gonna drool over, so no, it won’t be.” He pulls the blanket down to expose my breasts. Leaning forward he takes my nipple in his mouth and lightly swirls his tongue around it. “Just lay down, act like you are asleep, and then wake your loving boyfriend up so he can fuck you senseless, okay?”

“Whatever you say, director.” He chuckles at me and lays down. I press my naked body up against his half naked form and he groans.

“Should have thought the whole naked thing through. I already need to be inside of you, so let’s hurry up.” I laugh into his chest and pretend like I’m peacefully sleeping on his chest for a while.

Under the sheets, I discreetly sneak my hand from his tummy to the tops of his boxers. Being the professional he is, he doesn’t make any noise or give any indication that I’m close to touching him.

I feel guilty because he got me worked up already and I haven't given him anything in return, so I pretend to wake up and lovingly look over at him. To portray the act of being his girlfriend, I caress his face, push back his hair, and take in the way he looks while he’s relaxing.

I know he isn’t asleep, but he looks so cute and peaceful laying here like this with me. Throwing back the covers, I expose myself to the camera and run my hand along the top of his boxers. Harry stirs a little bit, trying to look like he’s waking up, but he keeps his eyes closed.

“I’ve missed you, baby.” I whisper to him while dragging his underwear down his narrow hips. His cock is half hard, laying against his stomach. I take him into my hand, and his warm skin feels so nice against mine. I position myself between his legs while working my hand up and down his shaft. “Wake up, Harry. You’ve been gone for too long. I need you.”

Once he’s fully hard, I put his tip in my mouth lightly sucking on it while my left hand reaches down to grab his balls and squeeze them. A little moan escapes him and he moves around more as he ‘wakes up.’ I take him further into my mouth, letting him tap the back of my throat before coming back up to lick at his tip.

I hunch over him more, so I’m on my knees as I blow him. I continue to bob up and down, letting him stay in my throat for longer periods of time. His hands sneak into my hair and pushes it away from my face so he can watch me. “You just have to have my cock in your mouth first thing in the morning don’t ya, honey?”

His dick pops out of my mouth and I replace it with my hand. I lay my head on his thigh, batting my eyelashes up at him while I jerk his dick in my hand. “I’ve just missed you, didn’t you miss me?” I pout my lip out at him slightly, playing into the needy and horny girlfriend role. Honestly, I don't have to even act that part. My pussy is a mess and I know the camera behind me is picking up on just how wet I am.

“Of course I did.” He grabs the side of my head and hovers me over his wet dick. “Now, put my cock back in your mouth so I can show you just how much I missed you.” I don’t know why he asked me because he doesn’t wait for me to lower my mouth on him all the way before he’s thrusting into my mouth.

Harry controls my head, fucking my throat while he lays under me. His moans are sinful, and make my cunt even more slick. I run my hands up and down his thigh, stopping over the tiger and scratching at it with my nails. “Fuck.” He moans at the pain and fucks my throat even harder. “Am I not fucking your mouth hard enough? Huh? You wanted me to go even harder?”

I pinch his hip, telling him it’s okay to keep going and he does. Harry’s hips come off the bed while he pulls my head down over and over again. Tears leak from my eyes from the pressure, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Throughout all my sexual experiences I don’t think any man has even been this vocal in bed with me. His voice is rough and raspy and his moans are deep and sultry. Every word he says drips off his tongue like honey.

Harry suddenly pulls out of my mouth and forces my head to look up at him. “Get up here now. Need this little pussy in my tongue now, before I fuck you.”

The thought of his mouth on me makes me squirm and I move fast at his words. I crawl over his body, touching his chest and arms on my way up. “Can I get a kiss first, please?”

“Don’t have to ask me, baby.” Harry grabs the back of my head and pulls me down to his warm lips. Kissing him feels exactly how I pictured. He’s soft but rough, fast but takes his time, and in control while making me feel like I hold the power. His tongue works against mine and I find myself loving the way he tastes.

I pull back from his lips, knowing if I don’t stop we’ll just kiss the entire time. If this was just for us, I would kiss him until my lips bruise and all the air evaporates from my lungs, but this isn’t just for us. Grabbing his cheeks, I open his mouth wide. “Stick your tongue out for me, baby. I need to make sure you’ll be wet enough to fuck my pussy with your tongue.”

“Don’t think I’ll need it with how wet you get, but I’ll never pass up the opportunity.” Harry winks at me as I spit into his mouth. My mouth is sloppy from the kiss we shared and the way he was relentless fucking up into my mouth causing a string of I admire how it looks sitting on his tongue, ready to be used.

Harry grabs my ass and pulls me until I’m straddling his head. He yanks my hips down, forcing me to fully sit on his face. His moan is unmistakable as he tastes me for the first time and I simultaneously moan at the feeling of his tongue on my clit.

Grabbing onto his hair for stability and also rocking my hips against his tongue I utter, “Fuck, Harry.” My clit is so sensitive from my orgasm and I know it wouldn’t take me much to finish again. His tongue licks from my entrance to my clit where he sucks it into his mouth and shakes his head to stimulate it further. I sound like I just ran a marathon with how heavy I’m breathing, but I can’t even find the time to be embarrassed about it.

It comes to a surprise to me when I feel his hand smack my ass once on each cheek, making my skin sting. Harry pulls away from my pussy just for a moment, “Can you not take me sucking on your little clit, baby? Does it feel too good?” He doesn’t wait for a response, just dives back into my cunt and sucks my clit into his mouth once again. As he shakes his head back and forth, his stubble on his cheeks rubs against the inside of my thigh creating a nice achy burn that I will feel tomorrow morning.

When he smacks my ass again, I cry out and lean my head against the headboard. “Keep doing that, Harry. You’re gonna make me cum.”

“You like me smacking your ass that much, honey?” I nod my head and whimper. He does it again and I nearly come just from that. “You’re such a dirty little thing.”

After a few more licks at my clit, I come all over his face and start shaking above him. My legs feel like jello and I don’t even know how I’m going to move from the position. “I could make you come on my face like that all fucking day, such a great thing to wake up to.” Harry realizes my weak legs and he runs his calloused hands over my hips and down my thighs. “You still want me to fuck you? Show you how much I’ve missed being deep in your little cunt?”

“Yes. Please, I need you inside me.” Harry reaches up and wraps his hand around my throat. Before I can even comprehend the fact that his long fingers, that I came around earlier, are around my neck he pushes me off his chest and down to the bed beside him.

Instinctively, my legs part for him and he gladly slides between them. His dick slides between my slick lips, tip lightly touching my still aching clit. “I can’t wait til I slip right into you.” Harry presses a light kiss to my lips, trailing them over to my cheek, across my jawline, and down my neck. As he goes further down, sucking light bruises into the skin of my breasts, he pinches my chin and turns my head until I’m watching us in the mirror. “But you gotta keep your eyes on me.”

“But-”

He climbs up my body, and whispers in my ear, “Listen to me, Em. Be a good girl and listen to me, okay?”

“O-okay.” My body shivers, hearing him call me my name during sex is everything I didn’t think I needed, but now it’s all I want. Harry trails my body in kisses again and this time I keep my eyes on him in the mirror. He buries his face into my cleavage, licking, kissing, and sucking my skin, leaving his mark behind. His large hands take in both of my breasts when he starts giving my stomach the same attention.

“Are you dripping yet for me? Do you think I could slip right in?”

“I don’t know. I guess you could always find out.” I tease. Harry turns his head and looks at me in the mirror. He takes in the smirk on my face and shakes his head while biting his lip.

“I love that mouth of yours,” Fingertips trace the outline of my lips, taunting me, “but I think I can find a different use for it.” Now fully hovering me, he grabs my hips and wraps my legs around his waist. “I want to hear those pretty little noises you make.” Sitting up on his knees, Harry holds my hip with one hand while lining his cock up to my entrance. “You think you can do that for me? Can you tell me how good I’m fucking you?”

“Yes, Harry. Just please, fuck-” Before I finish my sentence, Harry is already pushing into me, stretching my pussy out just for him. We both moan out at the feeling, and my nails dig into his abs. Red angry marks are left over the ink of his butterfly tattoo and I wish I had the time to admire the marks I made.

“Yeah, that’s good.” Harry finally sinks into me all the way and both of his hands are now gripping my hips with a fierce strength. “Mark me like that, baby. Mark me however you want.”

When my nails dig into his biceps he hisses and starts fucking into my relentlessly. Harry thursts into me while also using his grip on me to fuck my cunt onto his cock. The sound of our skin slapping against each other and the pleasure we are giving each other fills the room.

I find myself thankful that he kicked everyone out. Usually in these situations I find myself faking the moans, the pleasure, on my face, and the way my body is moving, but with him everything is natural.

I look at us in the mirror, with Harry now hovering over me and whimpering my name over and over again in my ear. His back muscles bulge and claim my attention as he fucks into me, deep and slow. His pelvis stimulates my clit every time he pushes deeper in me and I reluctantly take my eyes off him to throw my head back in pleasure.

“Takin’ me so good, Em.” He captures my lips in a kiss and our tongues clash. “I’m gonna need you again, but next time I want you all to myself.” Harry picks up in pace and I can barely hear him over the sound of my own moans. “Just for us, no one else.”

“I-I think I like the sound of that.” I clench down around his dick that’s soaked in my arousal and I feel the ache in my stomach, begging me for a release.

“But you like getting fucked in front of people, don’t you? You like getting fucked like the slut that you are?” He’s so close to my ear that no one will be able to hear his words in the video, but I can and it’s making me drip past him and onto the bed sheets.

If I answer him I know it would be loud, so all I do is nod. Harry slips out of me and I whimper at the empty feeling. It doesn’t last too long though, because Harry flips me around till I’m laying on my stomach and quickly fills me up again.

“I wish I could fuck you in every position, but you feel too good squeezing me.” The tip of his dick massages directly into my g-spot with every thrust he gives me and I bite the pillow to subside my screams. “Nuh uh,” Harry wraps my hair around his hand and tugs my face to the side so I’m looking at the mirror. “Need to see the pretty face as you come.”

The grip on my hair is released and placed back on my hips to angle them upwards. I slip my hand between my legs and rub lazy circles into my clit. The small stimulation pushes me over the edge, and by the way Harry’s face scrunches up and the deep moans escaping him I know my own orgasm caused his.

Breathlessly he falls forwards; forehead resting against the space between my shoulder blades. We stay like that for a while, catching our breaths and taking in each other. Harry kisses the skin of my back repeatedly as I sink into the sheets with him still inside me.

“Well, Em. I think we made a good video.”

#writing #harry styles #harry edward styles #smut #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic #harry styes blurb #harry styes x reader #pornstarry

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lostalioth · 9 months

Note

❛ don’t worry, i’m staying right here. ❜

Marc spector x female reader💛

Marc feeling that the reader has left his bed so he leaves his room to find her on the sofa having an anxiety atack.

A bit angsty but mostly fluffy💗💗

now this is my first writing for marc but i loved this so much and I accidentally made it more fluffy than angsty

𝘣𝘢𝘥 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 – 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘤 𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘱𝘵𝘰𝘳

→ warnings: nicknames [babe, baby, sweet girl], description of shooting and dead body, panic/anxiety attack, angst, mostly fluff.

Before you can think of a plan to get away or even register the sound and what has happened Harrow pulls the trigger and shoots Marc right in the heart. You feel your world and your heart shatter into a million pieces all at the same time as you watch his body hit the water. blood gushes through his shirt around the wound and you need to cover your mouth fast to stop yourself from screaming. Tears quick to brim your eyes threatening to fall as you watch in horror as Harrow's men pull your boyfriend's body from the water, you wanted to scream, run at them, even if it meant simply dying alongside your boy.

Once his body was on flat ground his men stepped back letting Arthur set something small and shiny on his chest. He’s quick to leave Ammits tomb with the goddess in hand who was encased in a tiny stone statue, you turn the corner from your hiding spot the minute they leave and run right to Marc.

“Marc! Steven! Please my love, either of you please..” your voice gets caught in your throat and you choke on it. Tears began to softly stream down your face as you kissed his forehead and placed your hand over the scarab on his chest. Your heart feels like it’s been ripped from your chest, fighting to hold back the gut reaching scream that’s bubbling in your throat.

You’re jolted awake in a sweating, out of breath haze. Your heart feels like it's gonna jump out of your chest with how fast and hard it's beating. Your chest heaving hard, you felt like you couldn’t breathe properly no matter how hard you tried. head spinning, your eyes filling with hot tears, clouding your vision. It felt so real, you couldn’t even tell if you were still dreaming or not. You didn't know what was real, you couldn’t stop relaying the moment the shot rang through your ears and you watched the love of your life’s body hit the water. That sight is burned into your memory, every single detail of it.

Being so wrapped up in your spiraling thoughts you are startled at Marc placing a hand on your shoulder. He had been woken up by the jarring shift of your body besides him. His hair was all disheveled and fluffed up, his eyes half lidded, you’d make a comment of how cute he looked if only you could speak and weren’t in the middle of a panic attack.

“Babe…what’s wrong?” Once he woke up a bit more he took in your appearance, you were hunched over the edge of your shared bed, a hand on your chest, eyes brimming with even more tears and labored and inconsistent breathing. He pushes his way up out of bed to come sit beside you on the edge of the bed, it sinks down as he slowly sits down, he’s never seen you this way, it's slightly scaring him as well as steven.

“Hey..hey baby what happened..?” He is slow and careful as he reaches his hand to place on your knee in an attempt to calm you. The last he wanted was to startle you again. “Night-nightmare…of that night in the-the tomb…” your voice was so hushed and shaky Marc almost couldn’t understand you but the moment your wobbly words sank in, his heart sank to his stomach with them. More tears stream down your cheeks as you watch fear flash on his face, as if his sequence of events of that night just replayed in his own head.

“Thought i lost you all over again…” your words came out a little less shaky this time and yet your words break Marc’s heart all the same. “Oh..sweet girl…” he sighs and he softly wipes away your tears as they fall. You lean into his touch, your heart aching like you haven’t seen him in years, you needed to touch him, needed to know he was real. As he’s wiping your tears away you rush forward, wrapping your arms around his neck and smash your lips against his. “Need to know you're really there….” You mumbled into the kiss and through your tears, your eyes squeezed so tightly shut like you wanna never open them up again as if he’d simply disappear the moment you do.

He grunts and shuts his eyes, kissing you back deeply and softly. A kiss so full of love, devotion and tenderness, a kiss that restores the breath in your lungs. Marc softly pulls you in close by the waist and lays the both of you down, the both of you holding onto one another for dear life.

You both pull away slowly, limbs intertwined and panic subsided. “Dont worry im staying right here baby…” he whispers softly as he presses a small reassuring kiss to your forehead before resting his against yours, looking deep in your eyes. “I’m right here my sweet girl, nobody’s taking me away from you, not even over my dead body” he smiled sweetly and rubs his thumb over your stomach and hip.

You hit him lightly for his poorly timed joke and rub circles on the back of his neck. You’ll always forever be thankful for whatever in the hell happened that allowed marc to come back to you, and steven. You needed them both more than they knew.

“I love you” you whisper softly as you and marc drift off to sleep, body’s wrapped around one another, like your souls, forever intertwined.

→ a/n: so i fully intended on posting this a while ago but never did anyway, i kinda forgot a bit of the request like she was supposed to leave the bed but im still a bit rusty after a long ass hiatus again and i barely proof read this cause i wanted to post today!! I love Layla but for this to work reader pretty much sorta is Layla/replaces her but you and marc aren’t married lol

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scuddisher · 4 months

Text

WHAT OTHERS CANNOT GIVE.

Price finds out you've been having second thoughts on your intimacy with him, searching for other men's services in the area—but he's convinced you're partnered with him for a reason.

RATING — MATURE & EXPLICIT (18+) PAIRING — gigolo! john price x gn! reader GENRE(S) — drabble, gigolo! au, yandere! au, smut WORD COUNT — 1k WARNINGS — mature content, language, jealousy, highly possessive john, loads of under-toning SMUT WARNINGS — sexual content, dom! price, edging, doggy-style, missionary, unprotected intercourse, creampie, bruising, mainly filth lol RELEASE DATE — DEC 14TH 2023

AUTHOR’S NOTE — me: i’m not gonna write for cod. i’m not gonna write for- [GUNSHOT]. this has been in my brain for WEEKS but now it’s finally written out <3 i live off of any type of modern-worker price concepts lmao they’re keeping me going rn.

“You know what sets me apart from others?”

John had you wrapped around his finger. Like a ring given in matrimony—the one you'd shiver over every time you had to take it off for some necessary chore where it could be damaged or lost. He knew his importance to you was real, it was what kept you coming back. But he had never taken into consideration that his services weren't enough for you.

Not with the way he had you clenching around his length, like now. “Why I am so good at my goddamn job?”

His ego had grown the more you had spoken. Broken sentences admitting to him that you had gone to see another man, asked for the pleasures of another's touch that wasn't him—you were his only regular.

John already knew, he was already hearing the gossip amidst the others. He had already found the strangely familiar phone number hidden deep inside of your drawer. In his world, of dark nights and long-time pleasure—he knew the signs of when a client was putting a distance between them and him.

You felt him twitch up into your heat as your breathing stuttered. Ears ringing loudly but only listening to the sounds of John spilling words through his gritted teeth. You knew you had crossed the line.

“What makes me the fucking best?” His words were harsh like a growl, yet spoke softly into only your ear as he pressed you into the mattress below him and felt your hips jerk back into his hot loins.

He had been fucking you for two hours. And this was once something you begged for. Once, his intimacy—now, obsession.

You felt yourself shivering from the cold air, the only major heat being the rough man behind you. His body was sweaty, hair sticking to himself along every part of his body. His happy trail soaked with drops of sweat running down his abs, stomach sucking in every time you clenched around him. You were dizzy from all that he had done to you.

And yet, he got another rise. Had released his load into you twice now, stretching you even further on his cock. That twitch of your body, mouth agape and claiming his name on your tongue. “John!”

Each time he pulled his length from you, the stickiness of his cum was enough to make you jerk and nearly orgasm until you felt the bruises he left on your hips throb in pain from his calloused fingertips pressing into them again.

You felt the cold air of his dick leaving you, could only whine as his hand pulled at your head until his lips were on your ear. And just as you felt the rush of his hot cum hitting the skin of your ass, he spoke again.

“Because I focus on my own pleasure, not yours. And that makes you my toy.”

Your whine was enough to have him turning you over to look at him, his touch becoming gentle as he heard the hisses and whispered words from your lips. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry.”

“Sorry.” He was still John. “Sorry is a tough word for you to use, isn't it?” His accent had grown thicker by each syllable. He was playing with your emotions. “Did you apologize to the man you called out that late night?”

There it was. The jealousy he had pent up, rocked his hips into yours until he almost forgot, only to see your big eyes staring up at him with tears falling down your cheeks to remind him.

“The one whose number you dialed instead of mine? Met in the latest hour of the night? Asked to pleasure you in some new way to get your fucking rocks off?!”

His beard was still covered in the wetness of your arousal, mixing with his spit and displaying itself on your skin each time his words turned angrier. Everything he had done to you tonight, it was all to convince you.

His mind was lost in his own thoughts as he spoke aloud. “Could he even make you cum? Know how to use you? Did he even get a touch before you realized he was someone else and not me?”

His hand moved from your heat, feeling you throb against the little friction he gave you until it found the pulse of your heartbeat at your neck. His thumb pressed into the spot, begging to feel how fast your heart would beat when he finally told you what he wanted to say all night.

“I'm the only person in the world that can make you cum like this.” His hard length was in his free hand, pressing into your heat once more until you were all-consuming. You saw the flinch in his face as he felt your walls feather with overuse, but he still found himself filling you up.

You felt his hips stutter once he was balls deep. The way his cock twitched from being sensitive like he hadn't used every hard-on he had gotten that night to prove his point. Now was his final show.

The ring of your arousal around him only caused a louder squelch and he pulled from you and thrusted himself back in. His speech only turned guttural when he felt how tired you were, how well he had taught you this lesson.

And as your body took him in and then kept going, your rise finally crashed down on you.

“You’re the o-only person who I have seen this many times in my field of work.”

You squeezed him, milked him of one more gushing orgasm, and then fell right down into your own. “Your body only knows me now. This—” He winced feeling your entire body turn into mush as your orgasm finally swept over you. “This is only for us.”

His words quieted as his head fell into your shoulder, mouth kissing at your neck. You could only cry, only whine his name softly. He finally claimed what he wanted to since the first day your shaky little fingers dialed his number.

“I'm the only one who can give you what others cannot.” He spoke so gently, pressing his entire weight onto your form below him and into the mattress. “My love.”

© scuddisher — all rights reserved. do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my works without my permission. do not post my content on other sites, especially claiming them as your own! reblogs and feedback are seriously appreciated <3

#john price #captain price #john price smut #captain price smut #cod smut #call of duty smut #captain john price x reader #captain price x reader #john price x reader #mw2 smut #mw3 smut #cod x reader #barry sloane x reader #barry sloane smut

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harryforvogue · 1 month

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Maybe something for Harry and Yasmine where she takes care of Harry? Like he gets super sick or something. I feel like she would love the chance to look after him bc he is always so caring towards her

Harry leans on the counter, his eyes heavy but open enough to watch Yasmine pour some medicine into a tablespoon. She brings it over to his mouth, hovering it in the air with another hand under the spoon to catch any drops.

He smiles, leaning in with his mouth open. The medicine goes down his throat smoothly, but he can’t help but pull a grimace. “You know,” Harry says after a cough, “the medicine comes with a measuring cup.”

“My mom always would pour it into a tablespoon. It was the perfect measurement. You’ll just have to take it a little more frequently, but that’s better than waiting six hours. You wouldn’t want me waking you up in the middle of the night right?”

She turns away to the sink to wash the spoon. Harry slinks forward, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind, putting his burning cheek against her cold one. He groans appreciatively. “I never mind you waking me up.”

Yasmine’s hands falter briefly before finishing up. She puts the spoon aside and leans back against him. “You’re too warm, Harry. You need to rest.”

“Why are you avoiding saying I’m hot?” he grumbles back playfully against her neck.

Yasmine shivers, running her hands over his strong forearms. “I’m serious, Harry. Come.”

She manages to wrestle out of his hold (despite his state, he’s still got a mean hold), taking his burning hand. She leads him to the living room, shaking him off when he latches himself back on her frame. He lands on the sofa, tilting his head back with a congested sigh. “I’m not tired,” he says, sounding both nasally and childish.

“I’m not telling you to sleep.” She takes a nearby blanket, wrapping him up in it, tucking the ends under his chin. His green eyes watch her movement carefully. “I need you to sweat this out.”

Harry wrinkles his nose. “Can you not talk so sexy to me?”

Yasmine rolls her eyes and sits beside him, grabbing a pillow. She puts it on her thighs and then pats it. “Come.”

Harry doesn’t need to be told twice. He all but flies closer to her, lifting his legs to lay horizontally, resting his head on her leg. Instead of facing away, however, he presses his nose to her stomach and sighs again.

“What hurts?” Yasmine says, running her fingers through his hair. The sweat has made it go slightly greasy, but she doesn’t care.

“My head.”

So Yasmine gently starts rubbing his temples. He hums with relief, closing his eyes.

“I’ve still got to cancel class.”

She says, “I’ll handle that.”

“Mm. My email is open on my laptop. Be nice to them.”

“I am nice,” she scowls.

“Mhm.”

Yasmine continues to rub his head, dipping down to his neck and shoulders to hear that groan of relief. He sneezes once, and then spends the next several minutes shivering.

“When I was younger,” Yasmine says softly, thumbing through his eyelashes, “and I had a terrible fever, my mom would wet some paper towels and put them on my forehead and under my arms. If you continue to get sicker, I’ll have to do that.”

“Mmmm.”

“It always felt really good, but I think that was only effective to bring my body temperature down. I was still sick afterwards.” When her hand rubs his back, he breathes deeply. “Maybe you have strep. Let’s go to the clinic tomorrow.”

Harry opens his eyes tiredly, going against all his big talk from moments ago. “I’m perfectly satisfied with my hot girlfriend nursing me back to life.”

Despite herself, Yasmine smiles, cupping his warm cheek. “I can only do so much, you know?”

He takes her hand, kisses it, and tucks it under his chin for safe keeping. “You do more than enough for me on any given day,” he says hoarsely, turning his head in to cough. “Just seeing your face is so…so–” he coughs and coughs and coughs, “nice.”

“It was real hard to say that huh?” Yasmine laughs quietly, and at the sound of her laugh, Harry looks back up at her.

“My throat hurts so bad.”

She can’t help it, so she says, “My poor big baby.”

“You act as if you’re on your deathbed when you have a cold, Yasmine.”

“I don’t need to be coddled though.”

Harry gives her a meaningful look. “Yasmine, I have to block off my calendar when you get sick. It’s like there’s a tornado in my house. You are so incredibly clingy and annoying, it’s like an alter ego or something.”

Yasmine says, “All right, that’s enough.”

Some quiet moments pass by with Yasmine just caressing Harry’s face. Then he says, “I want an ice cold coke right now.”

“Keep dreaming,” she answers.

“I want those cold spicy noodles you make.”

“Nope.”

“And an ice cube to munch on.”

“Nope.”

“I want to pinch your cheek so hard.”

That startles Yasmine, but she recovers quickly with her signature frown. “I hate when you do that. It hurts.”

“Good.” He smiles slightly.

She goes back to massaging his head. At some point, her legs go numb, but that’s around the time Harry’s breathing evens out, signaling he’s asleep. She lets him stay there, admiring his face and curls as she scratches at his scalp, wishing she could bend down far enough to kiss him.

“I love you,” she murmurs to his sleeping form, giving his curls a gentle tug. He shivers, as if the message has reached him even in his sleep.

#you ask and i shall give #harry and yasmine #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff

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s0lam33y · 6 months

Text

Chapter 3: Leave my Brain

summary: You haven’t seen your favorite surgeon in weeks, come to find out that she’s fallen ill.

A/N: I finally was able to sit down and write. Lmk what y’all think!

You wake up on your stomach, having been sleeping soundly all morning. You miss Shuri’s warmth and turn around just to breathe in her sharp floral perfume above you. You feel that warmth that you crave along your waist and the coolness of those rings almost makes you jump. Shuri kisses you on your lower back, spine, and neck, tenderly cupping a breast while she’s at it. You can already picture the drowsy smile on her face and tousled curls. Her hands embrace you and she does the work of turning you around.

“You look beautiful, baby.” She comments. Her nails scratch soothingly on your back as you soak her in.

“That’s all you,” You promise, leaning in for another kiss. She pulls away and leaves a thin layer of chapstick on your lips. Her hands lower to sit on the sides of your hips. She eventually lays on top of you, spreading her legs so she’s straddling you. Gentle marks cover her skin and she stretches, causing her shirt to lift to reveal toned abs.

“Y/N.”

You blink again and see Riri staring at you, nearly glaring. There’s no need for her to interrupt your dreams, especially on a weekend. You slide the pillow beneath your head to squeeze it above you in a poor attempt to tune her out:

“I ain’t mean to interrupt a’ight? Udaku said she got some documents she needs one of us to deliver and she’s sick, I figured you’d wanna do it but if not-“

You perk up at the sound of Shuri’s name. You shouldn’t be this whipped for someone who barely knows you but that doesn’t change the fact that you are.

“I got it.” You say almost immediately.”

“Don’t fuck my car up, there’s a court across the street and I’ll be there if you need anything.” She tosses you her car keys and watches you trip as you run out of bed.

…

You’ve always known that Riri’s car is nice, anyone with two fucking eyes would catch it but being the one to drive it is a different experience. Riri forwarded you Shuri’s address which was given to her by Dr. Vision. You’ll ask her more about how she got her number later.

You didn’t put in too much effort into getting ready or at least you’ve convinced yourself that wearing some makeup and your favorite pair of leggings is somehow casual at all. After 15 minutes of driving, you reach Shuri’s place, it’s surrounded by a park and you can’t ignore the lush fountains at the entrance. She lives in the penthouse that you remember Riri mentioning over the phone on your way here. You carry the folders in one hand as you move toward the building.

It looks expensive, to say the least. You make your way to the elevator and the top floor. You knock once, twice, and a third time for good measure. You hear words in a language you don’t understand before the door clicks open.

“I want to drop these off.” You force out, sucking in a breath as she picks up a file. She doesn’t look a bit sick at first, or you think until you hear the sound of her voice. Sweat drips down her forehead and she rolls her neck like she’s too hot.

“T-thanks.” She sighs, her voice hoarse and fragile. She nods, wincing and you don’t mean to touch her but you reach for her forehead with the back of your hand. She looks thinner than she already is, losing muscle definition in her arms.

“I’m fine, really, L/N, thank you for dropping these off, it would be a shame if I got you sick as well.” She insists as she waves off your arm. She shifts on the balls of her feet and you notice the mass of fur next to her ankles. You’ve never been a dog person at all but you feel indifferent to Cats.

The silence between you feels deafening until you realize that she’s fallen asleep while leaning against the door frame. You reach a hand out and she jumps at the contact.

“I can help you look through them real quick.” You suggest and she has no energy to protest. She steps to the side and you’re in awe at her space. She has a beautiful island with black granite and black mixed with gold accented all around the room. Her lights are low and warm and a fireplace sits against her wall in front of her lush couch.

Compared to your own Kitchen, this one is…yours is nothing compared to it.

That’s not the best part though, she has a beautiful view of the city that makes your eyes widen.

“Take a seat.” She suggests, her cold fingers catching you by surprise as they splay across your back. You sit on the couch and she sits right next to you, her legs crossed and eyes bloodshot.

“Let’s begin.” She orders.

…

You’ve watched Shuri move in and out of sleep as she tries to keep up with your words. Her arm rests on the arm of the couch as various papers are glued to both her legs and your own. She mumbles over and over again in an attempt to stay awake before finally slumping into the couch. She jolts awake a couple of times and you can’t keep watching the woman suffer.

“Dr…I think it’s best if you get some rest, have you eaten?” You ask already knowing the answer, her home is pristine not a single crumb of food evident in here.

“Mhm?” She faintly asks and that is enough to tell you that she hasn’t. She’s too far gone to say anything once you begin to scroll through your phone. You settle on some Indian food tonight, it’s filling and the restaurant is close enough for the food to still be warm by the time it gets here.

Her arm raises to rest on the couch and behind your head.

“Put Netflix on for me.” She requests. She’s finally accepted your help.

…

You and Shuri let out a laugh as she finally set down her plate. You usually hate watching rom-coms but Shuri has excellent taste. She was sluggish when you first got here and although she’s still so tired, you’ve finally gotten to experience her outside of work. She’s more carefree, less irritated and her smile is stunning. You see how she and Vision make such great friends.

The credits roll around and both of you know that your night has come to an end.

“It’s dark out, Y/N, You should go home, yes?” She suggests and you look outside too, it’s pitch black and you realize that you’ve been out since the morning. You check your phone to see multiple texts from Riri.

Williams 🩻

‘Wya’

11:01 AM

‘Hello?’

11:45 AM

‘Did sum happen to my car?’

11:56 AM

‘Are y’all fucking?’

3:08 PM

‘Please tell me yall AINT do shit in my backseat.’

3:09 PM

‘It’s late you good?’

9:32 PM

“Go, Y/N, I’ll see you at work soon.” Shuri murmurs, bringing you back to reality. You stand up and feel her eyes on you as she follows you to the door. A grateful smile graces her features and before you rush out she speaks.

“Text me, when you get home.” But she doesn’t have your number and before you can mention it, she beats you to it.

“I snuck it in when we were watching our show.” She points out. Her eyes aren’t any less red but her glance is soft.

“I hope you feel better.”

“I do.”

….

When you finally make it home, it’s nearly midnight but you feel like you’ve just woken up. Refreshed, ready to take on the rest of the night. The car ride home was full of you blasting music in Riri’s car and thinking about your boss that you really shouldn’t be thinking of. You hear Riri’s voice as you step into your home.

“I’ll call you back later.” Her voice is light, there’s a little chuckle and no I love you at the end so it can’t be her sister. Her sister is the only person she calls. You enter the Kitchen to find her leaning back against the counter.

“Yo, I have been fucking callin’ all day.” She scolds. You’re too giddy to fight back.

“Who were you on the phone with?”

“Nunya, Were y’all fucking in my car, I just got my shit detailed-”

“No, we were not, I wish we were but no, She was sick and I nursed her back to health.” You proudly say as you sit on the barstool across from her. She looks ready for bed, a bonnet on her head and sweats on. She’s not wearing a regular sports bra, instead, she has a hoodie on and you’ve known Riri for long enough to know that she hated wearing Hoodies to bed.

“What’s up with the hoodie?” You question, watching her swallow a small lump in her throat.

“Nun, I’m cold.” She shrugs, escaping your interrogation as she walks upstairs. She has something going on and you try hard to think about what she could be hiding. She hung up the minute you got in and she’s wearing a hoodie to sleep.

You can’t think for long because your phone buzzes in your pocket. You retrieve just to see a text from an unknown number.

- Are you home safe?

Your fingers shake as you type up a reply.

- Yea, shouldn’t you be asleep?

Her bubble disappears and then reappears.

-Yes I wanted to make sure you were home safe, I can sleep in peace now.

The last chunk of her message makes your heart drop.

-Goodnight, Shuri.

- Night Y/N.

She’s barely done a thing and somehow, you want her more than you did during that damn dream. You make your way upstairs to resume the dream from the night before.

@6-noir @goldqueen12 @likemick @h34rtsformilli @thtgirlllmona @euph0ricx0 @xchoxix @desswright29 @jordisblogg @imnotb @imjusthere2readbruv @shurisnovia @shurisvibranium @risingoftime @lppriceisright @pocketsizedpanther

y’all gon hate me for the fifth chapter

#shuri udaku #riri williams #shuri x reader #teach me ss series #meyspeaks #shuri udaku x reader

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jeankirsteinsgrlfrnd · 4 months

Note

hey!! can i request small scenarios of s/o asking aot boys what hairstyle do they like the best on them? (like braid, ponytail, bun, hair down, etc?) some fluff :)

you can choose the characters but pls do zeke, reiner and armin if you do it!! ty ^_^

✩ the aot boys & their preferred hairstyle on you ✩

✩ short scenarios ✩

*zeke jaeger*

zeke was going to take you out to dinner tonight. he had planned to bring you to the nicest restaurant in Trost. you, being the woman that you are, are taking decades to get ready. you’re in the master bathroom, fussing about your makeup and your hair. zeke is listening from the bedroom where he’s straightening his tie. he laughs quietly at you. unfortunately for him, you heard him.

“what’s so funny about me?” you ask, coming out of the bathroom with a hair brush in your hair. you point it threateningly at him. “you try dealing with all of this.” you gesture to your hair.

zeke throws his hands up. “relax, relax. you look just fine.” he adjusts his tie one final time and strides over to you. he reaches a hand up and caresses the side of your hair. “i always thought you looked prettiest like this.”

“like what?”

“like this. with your hair down.”

you sigh a breath of relief. at least your hair was taken care of.

*reiner braun*

you and reiner are at the gym today. it was a rainy, shitty day but he insisted on going. there was ‘no off days’, according to him. you didn’t mind going with him if it meant being close to him, but you would have much rather been at home.

he’s off on the far side doing leg presses. you’re sticking to the treadmill today, not wanting to break out in a real sweat. you two continue your sessions separately with occasional loving looks at each other.

you decide to put your hair in a high ponytail. the low ponytail was sticking to the back of your neck. it wasn’t a good look or a good feeling. right after you do, you get a text from your boyfriend.

‘why’d you put your hair up so high?’

‘i’m sweaty’

‘but now you look extra hot and every guy is going to look at you’

‘i doubt any guy is going to be attracted my revealing sweaty neck’

‘…i am.’

*armin arlert*

sitting on the couch, armin has no worries except for the fact of you taking forever with the snacks. the two of you had planned a movie night tonight. you picked the movie, of course. armin never complained about the things you put on tv. he just liked spending time with you. he’d sent you to the kitchen to get an arrangement of different snacks. that had to have been about fifteen minutes ago.

curiosity getting the best of him, he decides to get up to look for you. you’re nowhere to be found in the kitchen, chips and cookies just sitting lonesome on the counter. where could you have gone to?

“(y/n?)” there’s no answer.

armin heads down the hall, beginning to grow worried at the sound of your silence. he doesn’t see you at first. in the corner of the room, the bathroom door is open. there is light coming out of the room. he walks over to the open door to find you, looking in the mirror. you don’t look sad; you just look confused. you’re huffing and tossing your hair around, looking as if you don’t know what to do with it.

“(y/n), what are you doing in here?” armin asks. there’s a tinge of concern in his voice. “i was starting to get a little nervous.” he admits.

you turn to face your boyfriend. you turn your head to the side and put your hands on your hips. “armin, i need to ask you a question.” the phrase puts knots into his stomach.

“yes, baby?” he replies.

“what is one way i do my hair that you really like?” armin tilts his head.

“what?” his eyebrows furrow.

“i don’t feel like having it down. it’s bothering me but i can’t decide on what to do with it.”

“hmm.” armin goes silent for a few minutes, leaning against the door frame. you patiently away his answer. he brings a finger to his chin. “i like your hair any way you wear it. buuut, if i had to pick a favorite, i’d say a braid.”

“a braid?”

“a braid.”

“a braid it is then.” you agree and braid your hair.

you and armin spend the rest of the evening on the couch, drinking wine and munching on all of the snacks you prepared. you thank god armin picked something simple and not an elaborate up do you’ve worn a few times. he knows you. he loves you. you’d braid your hair forever if it meant keeping him around.

a/n: this one was fun! thank you!

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cevans-is-classic · 6 months

Text

18+ only, please. Language, sexual themes, beefy Bucky

Masterlist

Sebastian Stan

@sergeantbarnessdoll (sorry it's short, dear, but I hope you enjoy it!)

He texted hours ago hoping you’d be home when he got in. All he could think about was curling up on your couch, cuddling down with some movies and some snacks before taking a very extended nap. Maybe some other fun stuff, too.

Nap first though, he needed some sleep, possibly food before that happened.

He smiles when your car comes into view, his driver dropping him off beside it. Every step closer makes his stomach warm with being home, being with you.

“Hey baby,” He calls out when he swings the door open, “I’m putting my stuff in the bedroom real quick.” The TV is on, the mumble of voices growing faint as he drops his suitcase off. He hears you laugh, a sharp bark, and he grins before slipping into a pair of sweats and making his way toward the living room.

He hears the music first and pauses in the doorway — it takes a moment to recognize what you’re watching. When the scene shifts and he sees RDJ he laughs — startling you.

“Dude,” You look back at him, “Oh, Hello.”

Seb wiggles his fingers. “Hello to you as well.”

You flush, fidgeting, “Welcome home.”

He moves through the living room, sitting on the couch behind you. You shimmy until you’re between his legs and he can drop a kiss on your head, “Mind if I ask why you’re watching Civil War?”

“Yara and I played a drinking game last night for how many times Steve and Tony say each other’s names. We started with Avengers Assemble but made our way to the movies. I got kind of hooked again and had to keep watching them.” Your eyes never stray from the movie, even as your hand reaches back to grab his.

“Right here.” You point at the screen, “They forgot to put your arm on, or CGI it, whatever, but you can see your real arm and lemme tell you -” You lean forward, “Beefy Bucky is the best.”

“Beefy Bucky?” He squeezes your hand.

“Yes.”

Sebastian watches the screen, eyes following Iron Man as he fights against the Winter Soldier. He remembers the choreography of this scene, how many takes it took, and when he’d switched out with his stunt double.

He follows Chris chasing after him and watches Bucky try to fly the helicopter away.

“Yeah, I got beefy for this movie,” He pauses. “I felt like I had to size up to the others, which thinking about it now, makes no sense. The only one who I was up against, in my mind, was Chris.”

“Cap is an asshole.” He knows you have a little frown. “Poor Bucky, though.”

He laughs, “Yeah poor Bucky.” Both of you keep watching the movie playing on and he has to admit it’s been a while since he’s seen it. Everyone did an amazing job and watching Chadwick- it squeezes his heart.

“Oh! Oh!” You jump forward, “You missed it, ugh. The fucking motorcycle scene. Baby, babe, he literally throws someone off the bike, but my god it’s gorgeous. Bucky is gorgeous.”

“First off,” He pokes your shoulder, “That’s my stunt double you’re calling gorgeous. Second, you know I play Bucky, right? Me? The man who is currently sitting behind you?”

“Yes,” You look back at him, “and you’re hot while doing it.”

He grins at you, raising a brow when you turn around to face him, “You know, when I first saw this movie I was super drunk and told my partner at the time I was going to suck your soul through your dick.”

Seb jerks a moment, his stomach tightening. “Yeah?”

“Never fucking thought I’d get the chance though, one in a million shot, right?” He didn’t notice you pausing the movie until the music stopped.

Your hands trail up his legs as you rise to your feet. “You said you read some comics, right?”

He grabs your hips, sliding his hands up your back as you settle in his lap, “Some. Why?”

Your fingers trace the collar of his shirt. “You’re too tall.”

Seb blinks, “What?”

“Bucky is only five foot nine in the comics, I think? I’ll have to check.” Seb shakes his head, your fingers touching the edge of his jaw. “I think you make a great Bucky, though. Really brings him to life.”

He squeezes your waist, digging his fingers in until you squirm in his lap. “You’re welcome.”

That earns him a wicked smile, your tongue coming out to wet your lips. He follows the path, thinking about the feels of your lips against his and how warm your mouth would be around him. He leans forward to kiss your chin, then your cheek, over to your lips.

You pause for a breath, “On a scale of one to ten how cool are you with me shouting Bucky while you fuck me?”

Seb hums, brushing his lips over yours. “Let’s find out.”

#sebastian stan #sebstan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes

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pedrito-friskito · 6 months

Text

strawberry wine - joel miller x ofc!liv stone/fem!reader

after - part thirty-one

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST | READ ON AO3

you keep going. you have to keep going.

a/n: so I haven’t been on here in a hot second BUT I’ve been writing this story like a crazy person, lots more to come, thanks for all the love 🤍

word count: 7.2k

warnings: lil smut for your saturday, big emotions, ellie and liv forever 🤍

✨@friskito-library for updates on new parts/works✨

Joel knows that he’s dreaming.

He hasn’t let himself dream for a long time now. Every night, he’s feigned sleep, while you insist on taking watch, Ellie even offering herself up a few hours at a time. It’s partially a conscious decision, partially not. There are nights when he wants sleep, wants to drift off just for a few hours, but his body won’t let him. He lays there with his eyes shut, trying to keep his memories at bay, but it always takes more effort than he expects, and before he knows it, the sun is rising once again.

But right now? Definitely dreaming.

It’s a strange sensation, being conscious of a dream while you’re in it. But it’s the best dream he’s had in years, so he begs his body to stay asleep a while longer, just so he can see how this plays out.

He’s home. Back in Austin, not your shared apartment in Boston, but his old house, his old bedroom. More specifically, sprawled on his bed, mid-morning light filtering through the curtains. The mattress feels so real beneath him, the springs creaking as he moves, but it’s only a backdrop to what’s really happening.

You, wrapped in his arms, back pressed to his chest. He swears he can feel how sweat-slick your skin is, smell the scent of your hair, hear the rapid thunk of your heart beneath his palms. He’s buried in your body, deep as he can go, your back arching with the force of him, whines falling from your lips as you beg him for more.

“Please, Joel,” you murmur, one hand reaching back to fist the hair at the back of his head. “Oh my god, please, I’m—”

Never one to deny you, waking or asleep, he lets one hand drop, skimming the curve of your stomach and finding your clit with ease. You keen as he draws little circles, burying his face in your neck, kissing at your throat.

“C’mon, baby,” he rasps, teeth scraping your jaw. “Lemme feel it, lemme—”

A crashing sound rings through his ears, making his whole body jolt, and the dream vanishes, his eyes shooting open.

“Fuck!” you curse, and Joel turns to see you crouched near the old desk in the corner of the watchtower. One of the drawers has fallen to the floor — obviously the source of the noise — and you’re trying to scoop the contents back in; maps and notebooks and random photographs. Joel groans as he sits up straight, lifting his body off the mattress, and you look at him over your shoulder, brows shooting up to your hairline. “Shit, baby, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—” The drawer literally collapses in your hands and Joel has to stifle his laugh as he gets to his feet. You groan at the mess on the floor, head dropping back on your shoulders.

“S’okay,” he tells you, reaching for your arm and pulling you up to stand. Your stance is sure now, but it’s old habit for him to support you, though your leg has healed. You’ve been in the tower for two and a half weeks now; the first two had you laid up in one of the mattresses, Joel and Ellie both refusing to let you up unless it was absolutely necessary. Your leg is still wrapped in a bandage — fresh ones from the first aid kit you found in the tower — but there’s no blood bloomed through, and it looked almost completely healed when Joel checked it last night. You’re out of the woods, and he knows you need to get going soon. You’re antsy, and he can see it. He’s just as bad.

You sigh into his grip, reaching up to drape your arms around his neck. “But you were sleeping,” you say with emphasis, and he knows you’ve been watching him just as much as he’s been watching you. “I didn’t want to wake you at all.”

Joel shakes his head, leaning forward to tuck his nose into your neck, lips grazing your jaw. “Slept enough, baby,” he murmurs, pulling you close to him. “Just interrupted a dream I was havin’.”

“A dream?” you repeat, and he hums, grabbing your hips and pulling yours flush with his. He’s hard, pressing against the zipper of his jeans, his whole body nearly shaking with need. Your lips part softly, a quiet inhale that makes him even harder. “Was it a good dream?”

“Lemme show you,” he replies, reaching for the button on your jeans. “Where’s the kid?”

“Downstairs,” you tell him, tilting your head to the door. “Told her to stay down there, to let you sleep.”

“Well, I’m done sleepin’, baby,” he grits as he unzips your fly. He brings his hand to his mouth, sucks two fingers past his lips, then slips them down the front of your pants, right past the band of your underwear. “Fuck, when’s the last time I touched you like this, huh?”

He watches your face, the way your bottom lip quivers, and right when he thinks you’re actually going to answer, he pushes his hand lower, curls his fingers up and into you. You squeak, nearly collapsing in his arms, and Joel can’t help the satisfaction that roils through him.

You clench around his fingers as he pushes deeper and your knees waver, your hands clinging to his shoulders. “Fuck,” you curse again, moaning when he wraps his other arm around your waist, pulling you closer, getting a better angle. “We need to be—” You cut yourself off, eyes rolling back when he finds that spot, the tips of his fingers rubbing circles. “Faster, Joel.”

“Faster, huh?” he almost taunts, but gives you what you ask for. “You want it just like this, huh? Y’know, I was dreamin’ we were back home, that I was fucking you in our bed. You were beggin’ me so pretty.”

“Please,” you gasp, your hand fisting the front of his flannel, pulling him close enough to make your noses brush. “Fuck me, please, baby.”

You whine when he drags his fingers from you, but he doesn’t waste any time, turning you around and pushing you against the table in the middle of the room. You plant your hands, bending over the edge as he shoves your pants down, just enough to see the shine of slick against the inside of your thighs, the evidence you need this just as badly as he does. He doesn’t have time to strip you down completely, but one of these days, he’ll—

“Joel.”

He frees himself from his jeans, his cock aching and leaking as he kicks your legs wide and lines himself up. Your whole body stutters as he drags himself along your heat, coating himself with your wetness. His other hand finds your hip, digging his fingers in hard. You call his name again, your voice a rasp in the air, and he pushes into you, breathy exhales filling the space between you as he fills you to the hilt. Just as fucking tight as he remembers, just as hot and perfect and…you.

The need and the desperation get the better of him, kicking his pace into high gear the instant he’s buried to the hilt. He can feel the shift, gripping both your hips, and your hands cover his, keeping him in place. Your head turns slightly, eyes meeting his, big and wide and just as full of lust as he feels.

He gets you impossibly closer, keeping his hips tight to your ass and thrusting so hard your boots nearly lift off the ground. It pulls the most delicious sound from your mouth, your hand shooting back to dig your nails into his ass. “Jesus Christ.”

Joel hauls you up, banding one arm under your chest, his lips at your ear. “Yeah, baby? Tell me how good it feels.”

“So fucking good,” you babble, squeezing his ass, canting your hips back into him, driving him deeper. “Missed you — ah! — touching me like…like this.”

He had more words, more dirty things to murmur in your ear, but you take his mouth for your own, squeaking against his lips when he moves his other hand between your legs, thumbing at your clit. You clench around him, your teeth sinking into his bottom lip so hard he’s sure you’ll draw blood, confirmed when he tastes iron a second later. But he doesn’t care, too engrossed in the way you twitch in his arms, thighs quaking around his hand, the breathy moans that fall out of you.

How is it possible to miss someone who’s been right beside you the entire time?

It hits him like a ton of bricks as he works you through your orgasm, his movements sharper, trying to draw out your pleasure as much as he can. Your body goes lax, your lips still kissing his, both of your mouths smeared with his blood, but Joel doesn’t care.

His own body goes tight, pleasure creeping up his spine, slithering through his aching bones. The pain in his chest hasn’t made an appearance since you found the watchtower, and in this moment, he doesn’t even remember what it felt like, too preoccupied with how good you feel, your body wringing pleasure from his the same way he did to you.

You pull back slightly, just enough to see his face, darting between his bloody lip and his eyes and back again. You kiss him again, sucking his bottom lip between your own, laving your tongue along the curve. His hips snap against your ass, that peak growing closer and closer with every touch you offer. He sees the recognition in your eyes, the spark of knowledge as you tighten your grip on him.

“Baby,” you murmur, your gaze softening, the corner of your lip curling up as his pace stutters. You cover his hands with your own, squeezing your fingers around his wrists, pushing your body back into his. “You fuck me so good, love me so good.” You steal another kiss. “Love you so goddamned much.”

His brow furrows, hands tightening on you, fingers curling against your ribs. He growls into your mouth, nerves set alight, the feeling barrelling up and down and side to side, making his toes numb in his boots. He cums with a shout, one you catch with your own lips as he staggers, nearly losing his grip on you as he spills himself deep. It makes you hum, your grip going tighter, and now it’s you holding him upright, your lips all over his cheek, one hand lifting to brush through his hair.

Once he’s caught his breath, you let out a little breathy giggle, your arms still around each other. “Well, that was unexpected.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles, feeling his cheeks heat as he slips out of you. “I just…needed that.”

You reach up, running your thumb over where you bit his lip. “You definitely don’t need to apologize for that, Joel. I’m sorry for biting you so hard.”

The corner of his mouth twitches. “I liked it.”

As you clean each other up, finding spare rags to clean the mess between your legs, wetting another to dab at the blood on Joel’s lip, he forgets, just for a moment. Forgets about the world outside, the terror and the violence that seem to follow you all around. For a moment, you’re just two people in love, as desperate for each other now as you were when you first met twenty-two years ago. You’re just…you.

You pull your jeans back up, inspecting your bandage after you do. Joel steps close to you. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” you tell him, a relaxed smile on your face. He doesn’t remember the last time he saw you look like that — relaxed.

As you straighten, he pulls you back into the circle of his arms, fitting his arms around your shoulders. Your hands slip under his flannel, palms flat against his skin. He tugs at your hair, lifting your face until his nose brushes yours. Your lips part, words on the tip of your tongue, but he beats you to the punch.

“I love you,” he whispers, well aware that his hands are shaking. You nudge your nose against his, pulling him closer. He drops his jaw, capturing your lips again, but softly this time. He adjusts his grip, hands lifting to cup your face, thumb swiping across your cheek. The cut on your face has also healed, a thin scar left behind. Joel traces it as you deepen the kiss, your tongue touching his.

Ellie clears her throat in the doorway and you both jump apart, you covering your face with your hand while Joel braces his hands on his hips, staring at the floor. She doesn’t say anything at first, stepping into the tower and tossing her gun onto the table in the middle — the table he’d just—

“What happened to your mouth?” she asks suddenly, brow furrowing at Joel. His head snaps up, brows rising.

“Huh?”

“Your lip is bleeding.”

“Oh.” He lifts his hand to his mouth, feeling his cheeks heat. “Uh—”

You stifle a laugh, turning away with a guilty look on your face, finding something in the corner of the room infinitely more interesting.

The kid’s eyes dart between the two of you, and then she makes a face. “Gross.”

One month later, on the outskirts of Cody, Wyoming…

You’re all dragging your heels.

Ellie’s asleep on her feet, and Joel is so overtired that his senses are in overdrive. You can see it in the way his head swivels on his neck, eyes flitting every direction, coasting over where you’re stood on his bad side, bat over your shoulder, gun in hand. He’s still carting the rifle, knife at his hip, and Ellie has her not-so-secret gun. You feel better knowing she’s armed and feel shitty knowing how fucked up that thought process is.

Since you left the tower, winter has caught up with you. The snow came and left, then came and stuck, and it was very quickly apparent that the jackets you’d carried with you from Boston weren’t going to cut it. The chill in your bones had you detouring through neighbourhoods, reminiscent of your smuggling days, picking through houses over the remnants of people’s lives. You make Ellie and Joel keep watch most of the time, wanting to keep them safe from whatever horrors might be lurking behind closed doors.

You get lucky. You find a thick leather coat for Joel, wool-lined and worn in. For Ellie, what you think might have been a boy’s winter jacket, but it’s heavy enough to keep her warm and fits her fine. For you, one of those ridiculously patterned flannel-sherpa monstrosities you’re sure your mother had six of back in the nineties. It’s almost not warm enough, but you manage to find a few more layers to wear underneath and it works.

You find a few hats — one of which you have to all but force onto Ellie’s head — and leather gloves to match Joel’s jacket. It’s easy enough to find boots for you and Ellie, the tall, lace-up kind that hug your calves and keep the snow out. For Joel, every pair you find isn’t the right size, or the soles are worse off than the ones he’s been wearing. What you do find is duct tape, and he wraps his boots in it, waving you off when you try to help.

Part of you wishes you’d stayed in the watchtower. It wasn’t the perfect place — it got drafty as hell once the temperature started to drop — but you had a good vantage point. The supplies you found would have lasted a bit longer, and you could have gone back to Omaha to look for more.

Part of you wanted to stay, but a bigger part wanted to go. Once your leg was healed, you just wanted to keep moving. Whatever this is, you want to see it through. You’ve lost too much since leaving Boston, you refuse to tuck your tail between your legs and just give it up.

Another part, a part that’s small sometimes, and so big sometimes you think it might swallow you whole, that part doesn’t want any of this. It wants to find a place, somewhere safe, somewhere far from FEDRA and the Fireflies and the past you left behind, just for you. For you and for Joel and…

And for Ellie.

You can’t deny the protectiveness you feel for her. Right from that first night, you just had to keep her safe, had to keep her as whole as you possibly could in a world that wants the polar opposite. You look at her, remember what you’ve agreed to do, to just hand her over to the Fireflies. What will they do with her, what will they…?

Never mind your own feelings, but you’ve seen her and Joel lately, since you left Kansas City. Something’s changed, shifted. You know Joel will be the last person to admit it, but there’s a kinship, a kindness between them that didn’t exist before. He’s still your gruff old man, through and through, but his edges that were once soft only for you have smoothed out for her, too. It’s little things — passing a can of soup back and forth, Joel making sure she’s got a good grip on the warm metal before letting go — and the bigger ones too. When you first left the watchtower, shortly after the first snow, Ellie had nearly tumbled down the hill, but Joel had been closer than you, and he’d grabbed her before she could fall, hauling her back and onto steady feet, keeping her pressed to his chest until she caught her breath again.

You saw the flicker in his face when her arms wrapped around his middle, and the twinge in his expression when she let go, giving a shaky laugh and stepping away from him.

They’ve gotten closer, but Joel’s different on his own. He still has those pinched expressions when he thinks you’re not looking, looks of pain that he forces mild when he catches you looking. The closer you get to Cody, potentially to Tommy, the more antsy he gets. You know he’ll never admit it, but you know exactly what’s going on in his head. You’ve come all this way, and what if…

What if you don’t find Tommy?

Or worse, what if you do find him and—

No. You cut the thought short. You can’t let yourself think like that. No good will come of it.

You’ll find the Cody Tower. You’ll find Tommy and he’ll help you find the Fireflies, and this will all—

“Liv!”

You’ve only just reached the outskirts of the city. Wrapped in your own head, your mind going a million miles a minute, you didn’t realize you’d gotten close to the buildings, the flattened cityscape that looks like something out of an old Western. Joel grabs you from behind, clamping a hand over your mouth and wrenching you backwards, your boots scuffing against the pavement as he drags you, stifling your surprised noise when you see the sight before you.

Off in the distance, the control tower is plain as day. Your mind paints a taunting image of Tommy perched on the top platforms, speaking into a radio, talking to you and to Joel, telling you where he’s gone, what he’s doing.

The town below is less taunting, more nightmare.

Clickers, everywhere.

As far as your eye can see, wandering and twitching their way through the streets, tripping over abandoned cars and cracked hunks of pavement. The odd screech reaches your ears, sending chills down your spine. You let Joel drag you back, your body going willingly, pushing yourself back into his arms as you go. Ellie is frozen in place as you pass, her eyes glued to the sight before you, and you grab the hood of her coat as you pass, pulling her along with you.

Joel doesn’t release you until you’re back over the hill you’d just crested, until you’re out of earshot, out of sight. Your heart is racing, thumping against your ribs, and you get your bearings, letting go of Joel enough to grab his hand and Ellie’s, pulling them off the road and into the forest lining the road.

But Joel doesn’t move.

He’s still as a statue in the middle of the road, the hill stretching below, a straight shot through Cody. Even at a further distance now, you can hear them, those awful noises, like some kind of demonic birdsong. Ellie grips your hand tightly and you put yourself between her and the town below. “Joel, we need to move,” you say, tugging on his wrist. Nothing. “Joel—”

“He was in Cody,” he murmurs, his voice nearly carried away on the wind that sweeps through, ruffling your hair and his, making goosebumps rise on your skin. “He was there. D’you think that he…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence. The rifle falls from his grip, hanging against his shoulder, and his hand flies to his throat, boots sliding as his body tilts. He’s white as a fucking ghost. You pull your hand from Ellie’s, reaching for him. He grunts as you move in front of him, bearing his weight, trying to keep him upright.

“Liv—” Ellie starts, but you cut her off.

“Go to the trees,” you tell her, giving her a pointed look. “Go, and don’t move till I say, you hear me?”

She nods, her face nearly solemn, and heads for the tree line.

“Joel,” you call, and he gives you no response, his hands on your shoulders and his breath wheezing out of his chest. It’s coming fast, his entire body shaking with every inhale, every exhale. “Joel, honey, I’m right here.”

“What if he…” He trails off again, his eyes moving past you, back to the town. “Tommy…”

“Tommy’s alive,” you say, making your voice as stern as you can be, ignoring the panic rising in your own chest. “He’s alive and he sure as hell isn’t down there. We need to get someplace safe, okay? We need to figure out where to go next.”

“But he—”

You grab his chin in your hand, force his eyes on yours. “Your brother is a smart man, Joel, much as you hate to admit it. And he left Boston a long time ago. He wouldn’t have stuck around long enough to get caught up in something like that. He’s alive, and we’re going to find him. You hear me?”

His chest is still rising rapidly, his hands shaking as they move down to your biceps, squeezing so tight you feel it through your jacket and sweater. “I don’t know what…” He shakes his head, some of the colour returning to his cheeks. The wind howls and his eyes finally drop, pinched shut as he relaxes slightly into your grip, his breath starting to come a touch slower.

“I know,” you tell him, pressing your chest to his, hoping he’ll feel your even breaths, that his body will respond and try to match them. “I’ve had that thought more times than I care to admit. We have to believe he’s alive, Joel, and that we’ll find him. We will.”

His shoulders sag and he pulls you against him, his temple against your forehead as he exhales slowly. “We will.”

“We’re lost.”

“We’re not fuckin’ lost,” Joel grumbles, swinging his bag from his shoulder. He pulls out the map, shoves it in your direction, and you give Ellie a glare as you unfold it, the lines and dots instantly giving you more of a headache than you already have.

“Really?” she quips, and you let your eyes flutter shut, pushing the map back at Joel. “Then where the fuck are we?”

He gives you a pointed look, brow raised, but you ignore it, scrubbing your gloved hand over your face. It’s fucking cold. You feel like you haven’t slept in three days — realistically, you know that’s not completely true, but the little sleep you have gotten hasn’t been nearly enough, and the thrum in the back of your mind has been near constant. You’re burning out, desperate for some real food, water that hasn’t been hastily boiled over a campfire, and at least eighteen hours of sleep. Hell, even eight would do the trick.

You’ve been walking since sunrise. Almost three days past Cody. You walked through (past? You can’t be sure…) Yellowstone a day and a half in, and you’re all dragging each other along. The roads are hell, covered in snow, the blanket of white a welcome repaint to the landscape, but it helps hide the things that go bump in the night. Infected aren’t the only things you have to worry about in the mountains.

Joel furrows his brow at the map, yanking his gloves off to trace the path he’s after. You’ve been following the map, using whatever landmarks you can to find the next town. Joel mentioned Jackson, you thought maybe Yellowstone would have a camp of some sort — the park was big enough they could have put up some sort of outpost or camp when the outbreak came — but your path proved otherwise. Whatever had been set up in the park’s boundary was long gone.

There’s a marked path Joel’s been trying to follow, but the snow is not helpful. You think you’ve been sticking to it, but with every step, you feel more and more unsure. What if you’re going in the wrong direction? You trust Joel, you know he’s good for this stuff, that he wouldn’t risk it — risk you — if he wasn’t sure, but after his episode outside Cody, your worry for him has only grown stronger.

But you have to keep going.

It’s Ellie, that spots the cabin off in the distance. Small, tucked behind a wooden fence you’d guess is about chest height. Smoke pours out of the chimney. The relief that floods you is tinged with wariness, but it’s the first sign of actual living human life since you left Kansas City, and part of you wants to grab onto it as tight as you can.

The other part knows you can’t be stupid about this. You have to be careful.

By the time you get close enough to scope the place out, night has nearly fallen, and you make camp just inside the trees, out of line of sight from the cabin, but still able to keep an eye out. Joel insists on taking the majority of watch, and you let him, honestly too tired to fight with him otherwise. The little sleep you get is fitful, too many noises in the forest keeping you awake, Ellie’s murmurs in her sleep putting you on high alert, listening closely for any sounds of distress. You huddle close on the sleeping bags, keeping each other warm while Joel paces the small camp you’ve made.

You’re up with the sun, feeling like you barely got back to sleep when you’re being pulled out of it, and Joel has a plan. “It’s an older couple,” he informs you, scratching at his forehead, passing you a cup of coffee. You’ve rationed what you found back in KC best you can, but you’re getting down to the dregs and the grounds are more and more stale. But it’s caffeine, and you’re grateful all the same. “Husband looks like a hunter. I say we wait it out, wait for him to leave, then get in there. Get the wife to point us in the right direction. Figure out where the hell we are, if they’ve ever heard of Tommy, if he passed through here.”

“What if she doesn’t want to help us?” Ellie asks, and the waver in her voice pulls at something in your chest. You stare down into your coffee.

Joel pulls his gun out of his pocket, bare fingers curled around the handle. “We make sure she does.”

“Joel—” you start, but he shakes his head.

“We’ve been walking for days, Liv. I know you’ve been thinkin’ the same as I have. This is the first real thing we’ve found; I won’t walk away until we’ve found all we can.”

You swallow hard, the coffee bitter on your tongue. “Okay,” you nod, “but we ask politely first.”

His jaw ticks. “Yes, dear.”

Florence lets you inside with little issue. She actually laughs at Ellie’s whispered what the fuuuuuuck when you step into the cabin. The warmth that floods your body nearly makes you crumple on the spot, but you keep upright, taking in the log interior, the animal skulls and all manner of tools and equipment hanging from the walls.

Joel pushes ahead of the two of you, gun raised, scanning the space. “Anyone else here?”

“Just me,” the older woman says, almost smiling. “You waited until Marlon left.”

“He looked like a shoot first, ask questions later type,” Joel says, and she laughs again.

“He is.”

Keeping the gun at hand, Joel steps through the cabin, poking around doors, heading up to the loft to make sure it’s empty too. You and Ellie stand there awkwardly, teeth chattering as your bodies get used to the warmth.

“Sit down, girls,” Florence instructs, getting out of her chair with some effort. “I’ll make you some soup.”

“You don’t have t—” you protest, but she waves you off as she heads to the kitchen area.

“It’s cold out there.”

Joel comes back down the stairs, satisfied with his search, and Ellie sinks down on the couch, clearly unable to resist a soft seat. You’re tense, and Joel stands beside you, one hand in the middle of your back, the other still holding his gun aloft.

“Joel,” you start, but he shakes his head again, just like he had.

“Where is she?”

“Making soup,” Ellie answers and his brows shoot up.

It’s a good few minutes of quiet, and you sit down beside Ellie, every bone in your body creaking as you hit the cushion. Joel puts himself between the two of you and Florence, her back to you, the clatter of dishes the only sound.

“We don’t want any trouble,” Joel says, “just need to know where we are.”

The woman nods as she turns back, two bowls of soup in her hands as she walks back toward the couch. You and Ellie accept them with mumbled thanks, and she goes back to get a third bowl for Joel before sinking back into her rocking chair, regarding the three of you.

“You got a map?”

About an hour later, the bowls are empty, you can feel your toes again, and Ellie’s cheeks are not nearly as rosy as they’d been when she woke up this morning. The map sits on the table in front of you, and your eyes are trained on the spot Florence had pointed to. Joel is still rigid, pacing the cabin with the gun in his hand, ignoring you when you tell him to put it away.

Florence is still in her rocking chair, and she pauses mid-rock, head turning toward the door. “He’s back.”

“Ellie, upstairs,” you say, and she shoots you a wide-eyed look, but you press. “Now.”

She sighs as she darts upstairs, like she’s annoyed to not be in the line of fire, and Joel pulls you up off the couch, bringing you with him into the kitchen, out of sight of the front door.

The man you assume to be Marlon steps through the front door a beat later, unzipping his coat and setting a hunting bow down on the nearby table. Florence just watches, rocking back and forth in her chair, but you don’t miss the way her eyes meet his and then flick to the pair of you tucked to the side.

Marlon takes a step forward, and Joel moves at the same time. “And the gun, too.”

Your brow lifts. You hadn’t noticed the holster at Marlon’s belt, but Joel had. “Who the hell are you?”

Joel steps around the room slowly, his own gun lifted and pointed at the older man. “Just someone passin’ through.” You stay where you are, watching the scene unfold before you. Joel stops, gestures to Marlon. “Take the gun out, two fingers only, put it outta reach.”

You have to admit the thread of power in his voice makes a shiver race down your spine. And it’s not from the cold.

Marlon does as asked, pulling the pistol out almost mockingly, shaking it in the air before setting it down — out of reach, like Joel said.

“Why didn’t you shoot ‘em?” Marlon asks, jutting his chin at his wife.

“Gun’s all the way over there,” Florence replies, looking toward the kitchen. You realize she could have — when she went to make you all soup, she easily could have grabbed the gun and started shooting. Three against one wouldn’t be an easy fight for the woman, but it would have been something. “He didn’t hurt me, by the way,” she tacks onto the end, her voice almost sarcastic.

“Yeah, I got eyes,” Marlon grumbles, and steps a little closer, gesturing at the table in front of the couch, your empty bowls of soup and the map. “You made him soup?”

“Yeah,” Florence replies, “I did. It’s cold out.”

Marlon sinks down into one of the empty chairs, and you can see Joel’s patience wearing thin. “I’m lookin’ for my brother.”

The old man scoffs, pulling his hat off. “Well, I ain’t seen him.”

“I haven’t told you what he looks like,” Joel retorts, matching his tone.

“He look anything like you?”

“A bit,” Joel answers, and you can’t stop yourself from stepping forward.

“Not really,” you say, and Marlon’s brows shoot up as you make yourself seen, your own gun dangling from your hand. “Darker hair, a bit shorter, more mustache than beard.”

Another scoff. “I ain’t seen him.”

“They’ve got a girl with them,” Florence says, lifting her chin toward the loft.

“Can I come down?” Ellie’s voice floats down, and Joel bristles.

“No,” he calls, his voice stern, and you both look up to see her lean over the railing.

“Ellie!” you call, trying to strengthen Joel’s command, but it doesn’t work. She comes bounding down the stairs, gun rattling in her hand.

“Ooh-wa,” Marlon grumbles, and both he and Florence start laughing.

“What did I just say?” Joel grits and you sigh, rubbing your hand over your forehead.

“Joel, come on,” Ellie retorts, almost rolling her eyes. “They’re like, a thousand.”

“Who’s this little psycho?” Marlon asks, gesturing to Ellie, looking between you and Joel. “Your daughter?”

“She’s—” you start, but Joel cuts you off.

“Never mind her,” he says, stepping forward and poking at the map on the table. “I need you to tell us where we are.”

“If you got a map, why you lost?”

“Must have missed all the street signs in the enormous fucking forest,” Ellie bites out, and you grab her shoulder, yanking her backward and beside you.

“Ho-ly,” Marlon laughs, and Florence chuckles. The whole scene is making your head hurt. It’s like whiplash.

Joel gives you a pointed look as the older couple laughs. Your jaw goes tight and you shake your head ever so slightly, gripping Ellie’s shoulder as he leans in again, pointing at the map. “We’re somewhere here. Exactly where? And your answer better be the same as your wife’s.”

Marlon stares at Joel for a long moment before his eyes cut to Florence. “You tell him the truth?”

“Yeah,” she says, still rocking back and forth.

“You tellin’ me the truth?”

“Yeah.”

Another glare from the old man before he leans forward in the chair and pokes at the map. Exactly the same spot Florence had pointed out. Middle of fucking nowhere. You can feel Ellie’s eyes on your face, but you can’t bring yourself to look in her direction.

With a sigh, Joel tucks his gun away. “Well, you found a great place to hide, I guess.” He sinks down onto the couch, putting his head in his palm.

“Hide?” Marlon laughs. “Came here before you were born, sonny. Get the hell away from everybody.”

“I didn’t want to,” Florence interjects, and despite it all, you laugh.

Marlon waves her off. “Listen, I didn’t mean to upset you about your brother, but if you’ve come this far, then you know what’s out there. You’ve seen Cody?”

At the mention, you step away from Ellie, to the other side of the couch, hovering near Joel’s shoulder, reaching out and curling your fingers in his coat. Ellie sinks onto the corner of the couch and answers for you. “Yeah, got close enough. It’s crawling with Infected.”

“Yeah, Laramie and Wind River Reservation,” Marlon tells you, his eyes flitting from Ellie to Joel to you and back again. “Anywhere people used to be, you can’t go there no more.”

You can feel Joel tensing under your hand like a drawn bowstring. “So you haven’t heard the name Tommy? Tommy Miller?”

“Nope.”

“What about the Fireflies?” you ask, finding your voice.

“We get those in the summer,” Florence answers innocently.

“Not the bugs,” Ellie bites out, “the people.”

“There are firefly people?” the old woman asks and the pair starts laughing again.

Ellie has more to say, but you call her name, your voice as stern as Joel’s had been, and this time she listens, shrinking down onto the couch.

“You got any advice on the best way West?” Joel asks, and you can feel his shoulders going tighter and tighter.

“Yeah,” Marlon answers, “go East. But you never go past the river here.” He points at the map, not far from where he’d pointed before. “Ever.”

“What’s past the river?” you ask, stepping around and sitting on the arm of the couch, your hand still squeezing Joel’s shoulder.

“Death,” Florence says, and an icy chill shoots through you. “We never see who’s out there, but we see the bodies they leave behind. Some Infected, some not. If your brother’s West of the river, he’s gone.”

Joel deflates. You feel it beneath your hand, the slump to his shoulder, the defeat that starts to roil through him. You know him too well not to see it for what it is. He’s giving up.

And Ellie is staring at you. You let yourself meet her gaze, and see your own fear mirrored in her eyes. But despite it all, what comes out of your mouth is, “You aren’t gonna scare us.”

“Scared him,” Florence says, chin lifted toward Joel.

Marlon laughs again and Joel snatches the map up off the table, moving out from under your grip and getting to his feet. “We need to leave.” You move to follow, grabbing Ellie by the shoulder again. You grab your bags from where you stashed them near the stairs. Joel swings the rifle over his shoulder and as he steps past you to get to the door, you hear the wheeze in his breath. Without another word, he steps out of the door, Ellie following.

You turn back to the older couple. “Thank you for the…hospitality.”

Marlon gives you a strange look. “Don’t get yourself killed out there, girl.”

You give a curt nod before turning on your heel, following Joel and Ellie. Ellie is nearly running to keep up with him, a dead rabbit hanging from her grip — where the hell did she get a dead rabbit?

“They don’t know anything,” she’s saying, like she’s trying to reason with him. “Never heard of the Fireflies.”

They’re at the fence by the time you catch up, your boots nearly slipping through the snow. Joel’s stock-still, one hand reached out, gripping the wooden fence for support.

“Joel, are you okay?” Ellie calls, and you hear him grumble at her to shut up. “Holy shit, are you dying?” She whirls, panic in her eyes as she stares at you. “Liv, is he dying? This is the second time.”

Joel shakes his head, the movement almost frantic, eyes squeezed shut. “I’m okay,” he wheezes, and you step past Ellie, moving beside him. “Okay, okay, I’m fine.”

“Joel,” you call, your voice soft, reaching for his free hand, threading your fingers through his. “I’m right here.”

“No, no, but are you okay?” Ellie continues, her voice climbing. “Because just a reminder, that if you’re dead, we’re fucked.”

“Ellie, stop it,” you snap, squeezing Joel’s fingers as your head whips in her direction. The anger that spikes through you is there and gone in a flash, but you see it flicker across her face all the same.

“I’m fine,” Joel repeats, lifting your joined hands to his chest, rubbing your knuckles against his sternum. “Just the…cold air, all of a sudden.” He’s still panting, his breaths still wheezing, and he bends slightly, still gripping the fence for support.

Ellie’s still staring at you. The guilt is immediate as she ducks under the fence, putting distance between the pair of you. “Alright, uh, so let’s go and find Tommy and the Fireflies.”

Joel straightens, taking a deep, even breath, and you relax slightly, turning your attention to him fully. His lips form the words I’m okay and you wish to God you could believe him, but his eyes tell a different story. One you don’t have time to hash out here and now.

“It’s gonna be easy,” Ellie is still carrying on, nearly crawling up the hill that leads away from the cabin. “All we have to do is cross the River of Death.”

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#my fics #strawberry wine #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #the last of us #the last of us fic #the last of us spoilers #joel miller x oc #joel miller x liv stone

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leviathans-watching · 2 years

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hello! if the requests are open, as the obey me brothers (+diavolo if you can) reacted to mc start to get terribly sick (always coughing, high fever, always in bed, doesn't eat etc) kisses from Kisses from Brazil 🇧🇷❤️

sick mc with lucifer, diavolo, and satan

includes: lucifer diavolo, and satan x/& gn!reader (no pronouns mentioned)

wc: 1.8k | rated g | m.list

a/n: sorry this took so long but ty for requesting! i hope you enjoy!! my inbox is open to chat, leave feedback, and request so come say hello!! and kisses from the US <33

warnings: depictions of illness, fevers, and colds, mentions of vomiting, taking medicine, coughing, sneezing, etc. if you're squeamish about sickness/sick fics then this is not for you lol

please reblog <333

lucifer was aware you weren’t feeling too hot, but he figured it’d pass with a little more sleep and promptly turned his mind to other things. he kept an eye on you, of course, but you were insisting everything was fine, and, well, he had work to do.

it isn’t until you don’t come down to dinner that he realizes that that may have been a mistake.

“mc?” he calls knocking on your door. no response. “i’m coming in.”

your room is dark, the curtains drawn, and its warmer than the draftier halls are. stepping forward, he looks around. you’re under a big nest of blankets, but sweat shines on your skin.

hastening forward, lucifer strips off his glove, pressing it to your forehead, you’re burning up.

“mc,” he tries again, “wake up.”

your eyelashes flutter a little but other than that he receives no response. lucifer curses, working on getting you out from the tangle of covers. your clothes are damp from sweat and your skin is a worrying color.

picking you up, lucifer carries you to his room, where it’s cooler. he changes you out of your old clothes, putting one of his shirts on you, then sets you into his bed, smoothing your hair back. you still don’t move, or make any indication that you understand anything that’s going on around you.

he hopes it’s just exhaustion. your fever isn’t nearly bad enough to knock you out, and to be fair, he hasn’t seriously tried to wake you up in any extreme way.

quickly making his way to the kitchen, lucifer speeds through gathering everything he needs. a cold compress of asmo’s from the fridge, one of beel’s sports drinks, and a handful of other provisions is what he ends up with, and he wastes no time getting back to your side to set you up with them. once he’s got the cold compress on your forehead and has put everything else on his bedside table, lucifer grabs a real thermometer from the bathroom, one from the human world he was glad he’d had levi order earlier on in your stay.

like he had thought, you weren’t dangerously warm, and all of your other vitals seemed okay. his theory of exhaustion was seeming more and more reasonable, especially when he considers how hard you’ve been working.

there's nothing he can do now besides monitor you and make sure you’re okay, so lucifer pulls his armchair up closer to the bed and settles in. he thinks maybe he’ll be able to get some reading or work done but quickly realizes it’s hard for him to take his eyes off of you.

he’s never seen you this sick before. sure, you’ve had the occasional stomach bug or cough, but it’s never been bad enough to take you out like this. he hopes the flu is all it is. he doesn’t know what he’d do if your fever gets worse or you don't wake up in the next few hours. call solomon and simeon for sure, but aside from that?

he has no clue.

it’s evening when you finally stir, opening your eyes with a small groan. lucifer instantly raises the sports drink to your lips, gently encouraging you to take a few small sips before you speak.

“i feel awful,” you finally say, smacking your lips.

“i’ll bet,” lucifer replies, leaning over to fluff a pillow. “you’ve got a fever and have been asleep for a while.”

“oh.” you sit there for a moment, contemplating. “how’d i get to your room?”

“i carried you.” even though you’re awake and coherent, lucifer still feels off-kilter and worried. “you were sweating to death in your room and the sheets were all gross so i figured this might be better.”

“that explains the shirt, i guess” you say, looking down at your attire. “thanks for doing all of this. i haven’t been feeling great, but i didn’t think it was this bad.”

“of course darling,” lucifer says. “now, are you hungry? you should try to drink and eat some more then go back to sleep.

diavolo steps out into the hall, pulling his robe tight around himself. it was rare for him to wake in th middle of the night and he hopes a drink of water will help him fall back asleep.

planning on just drinking from the bathroom faucet, diavolo’s surprised to see the light in there already on, peeking out from the crack in between the door and the floor. you were spending the night, but what were the odds you were both up at the same time?

after waiting a bit and not hearing the toilet flush or anything, diavolo decided to knock.

“you can come in,” you call, and diavolo thinks your voice sounds kind of weird.

pushing the door open, he’s surprised to see you on the ground, leaning up against the wall of the bathtub.

“are you alright?” he asks, crouching down to get a better look at you. your cheeks are flushed and your eyes are glassy and he’s starting to get seriously concerned.

you wave your hand. “i’ve been better. i think i ate something i shouldn't have,” you explain wryly. “my stomach hasn;t been happy.”

“you mean you’ve thrown up?”

you nod. “yeah, and then i tried to drink some water but that came right back up too.”

“why didn’t you come get me?” diavolo asks, and you laugh.

“and wake you up? no way.”

diavolo frowns. “you should have. i wouldn’t have minded, i promise. you can wake me up for anything, anytime.” you don’t look convinced but he resolves to put the matter aside for the moment, moving onto more pressing matters. “i think i have some stomach medicine, if you want it?”

you nod. “thank you, i’d appreciate that. since there’s nothing left in my stomach, i haven’t thrown up any more, but since i definitely need to drink some more water i think it’ll help.”

diavolo stands. “i’ll be back in a moment,” he promises, hurrying to his room. even though he knows you’re not actively sick, he still feels this sense of urgency, this need to get back to you as soon as possible.

bottle in hand, he finds you in the same position as before, but now your head is tipped up and you look a little more green. you still manage to give him a weak smile, though it’s clearly strained. sweat beads at the edge of your hairline.

“you don’t look too good,” diavolo notes gently.

“wow,” you say. “you really know how to flatter a person.”

diavolo winces. “i didn’t intend-”

“i know,” you say softly. “i was teasing, but i guess it fell flat.”

“ah.” pursing his lips, diavolo waits for you to swallow a pill, taking the bottle back. “let’s get soem water in you and then if you don’t puke, get you back to bed.”

you look sheepish. “actually, the first time i didn’t quite make it to the bathroom, so my room isn’t exactly a viable option. i’ll clean it up though, i swear. i’m really sorry, by the way.”

“silly human,” diavolo says. “don’t even worry about it. this isn’t the first time these walls have seen a sick person. and anyway, barbatos knows a spell to magic it away.”

“if you’re sure…”

diavolo nods, resolute. “i’m sure. now, water.”

you’re able to drink one glass, and then another, and after about fifteen minutes has gone by, diavolo feels confident in getting you out of the bathroom.

“we have more guest rooms, obviously, but my room is always open to you as well,” he offers, and you look at him sharply.

“um, is there one you’d prefer?”

“actually-” and now it’s diavolo’s turn to feel sheepish “-i’d rather be able to keep my eye on you, if you’re comfortable with that. i also keep a wastebasket right by my bed which may come in handy.”

“alright then,” you agree, “thank you. and thank you for taking care of me.”

“of course.” offering you a hand, diavolo helps you up. “next time you get sick, let me know and i’ll be there right away.”

satan raises his eyes from his textbook as you sniffle for the nth time since he’d sat down to his study session with you. you don’t even seem to be aware that you’re doing it, but the noise is grating, and, satan’ll admit, a little concerning.

noticing his stare, you look up from your own work, raising an eyebrow. “what?’ you ask, and you’re voice is a little scratchy.

“are you well?” satan asks without preamble. “i believe you’re coming down with something.”

“no? i’m fine,” you say, but the words are broken with a fit of coughing.

“oh, really?” satan asks, unimpressed. “that didn’t exactly sound ‘fine’ to me.”

you scowl. “it’s probably just a cold. and anyways,” you continue with a little sigh, “i don’t have time to be sick, not with exams right around the corner.”

it’s a noble through, but satan knows that’s not how it works.

“i think we should call it a night,” satan says, bookmarking his page and shutting his book. “you obviously are sick and i can’t concentrate with all of your coughing and sneezing.”

“awww, so you do care.” the words are sarcastic, almost caustic, and the tone takes satan by surprise. the venom seems to take you by surprise as well, as you lean back, rubbing your eyes. “i’m sorry. that wasn’t kind of me. i’m just tired.”

“and sick,” satan adds, and you roll your eyes.

“i’m not that sick,” you argue but another bout of coughs cuts you off. “fine,” you say after a moment, “maybe we should stop for the night.”

the two of you pack up quickly, making your way out of the library within minutes. noticing your shiver, satan wraps his scarf around you, tucking the ends in. you smile then, and he feels a little bit better. upon getting back to the house of lamentation, he instructs you to go to bed then promptly does the same.

satan wakses with a start, catching the end of a knock on his door. “come in,” he calls tiredly, sitting up. he’s only a little bit surprised to see you on the other side; no one else had reason to call upon him.

“satan,” you say, and he sits up even straighter. you sound absolutely awful. “i think i’m sick.”

“you think?” satan stands hurriedly, pressing his hand to your cheek. “you’re definitely warm.” underneath his hand you shake and quiver, teeth chattering.

“are you cold?” you ask, and he shakes his head. “drat,” you mutter. “i was hoping it was just freezing in here.”

“let’s sit down.” satan says as you sway a little, pulling you to his bed. “when was the last time you drank some water?”

“i don’t know,” you reply. “probably a while ago. satan,” you say again, “my throat really hurts.” with that, you begin coughing again, much raspier sounding than earlier.

“i’ll bet,” he murmers. “i think i have some of that throat soothing tea. would you like me to make you some?”

“don’t go out of your way.”

satan huffs out a sigh. “it’s only a cup of tea. besides, if we don’t start treating you now, you’re only going to feel that much worse later. let’s go to the kitchen.”

you stand, and he pauses to hand you one of his pullovers. you're not terribly fevered, so it’s fine for you to put on a few more layers.

“thank you,” you say fervently, pulling it over your head. “i feel like my fingers are ice cubes.”

“the tea will help with that too,” he says as he ushers you towards the kitchen. “if you have to cough again please don’t do it on me.”

you smile. “i’ll try. thanks for helping me out.”

“of course,” satan says. “thanks for coming to me so i could help.”

leviathans-watching’s work - please do not copy, repost, or claim as your own

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ctitan98official · 3 months

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Alcina blinds Y/N in one eye and kidnaps them angst part 4

Alright, here’s part 4. I don’t think this is quite as dark as the last part, but it’s not much better lol. Unhealthy relationships ahoy! Read part 3 here! Let’s get into it!

You wake up after what feels like a long time. Your arm is throbbing painfully. You look down and see it’s red and swollen. Pus has started leaking out of your wounds. You are so hot despite the frigid temperatures of the dungeon. Your body is burning up with fever. You also notice that you’re drenched in sweat. Although, it’s hard to tell what’s sweat and what’s the filth of your cell clinging to you.

You sit up, but your head spins and you immediately lean over to throw up. You end up only vomiting bile because your stomach is so empty. You lean against the bars of your cell and enjoy the coolness of them on your heated flesh. You are very sick, but all you can think about is Hope. You refuse to go out like this. You won’t leave your daughter all alone.

As if on cue, the door to the dungeon opens once again. Who the hell is it? You look over to your cell door and huff. Of course, it’s Alcina. You lazily lie your head back on the bars. “Go away,” You say quietly, not in the mood to deal with her shit.

Alcina is about to reprimand you for being rude to her, but she can almost feel the heat radiating from your frail body. Your skin is pale and you look so exhausted. Are you sick? Her heart hurts to see you in such bad shape, even if she is punishing you right now. “Draga…” She says and opens the cell. She kneels down and places a hand on your forehead. You’re burning up. “Baby, you’re sick. Let me get a better look at you,” She says.

You chuckle humorlessly. “It’s your fault. Why do you care?” You snark and turn away from her more.

Alcina feels a deep pang of guilt. Maybe she has been too hard on you… But, she thought it was necessary. A means to an end.

She just couldn’t stand to let you move on without her. She is… Obsessed with you. She craves your presence. She needs you. She was hoping that she could just… Break you to get you to stay. No matter the consequences, that was her goal. She knows it wasn’t the perfect plan, but when she is determined, she will stop at nothing to get what she wants. However, she is really starting to regret her actions (Something she didn’t think would ever be a possibility).

What if you don’t… Make it? What if this was truly a bridge too far? She can live with you hating her, but she can’t live… Without you. She can’t even fathom it. She feels a stab of panic as she thinks of your fragile life hanging in the balance.

She takes a breath and stuffs down her anger at herself momentarily. She gently scoops you up and gasps as she sees the infected wounds on your arm. She… Did this. She really is the reason you’re so sick. She was just trying to teach you a lesson, but… You are so weak. She didn’t mean for it to go this way. She cradles you against her chest and rocks you. “Shh, shh, draga. You’re okay. I’m here. I’ll make everything better,” She tells you. She hurriedly takes you back to her room and lays you down on the bed. She sets about running you a cool bath, knowing that she’s got to get your fever down.

You close your eyes and sink into the softness of the bed as Alcina bustles around and gets things ready for you. But, you’re starting to hallucinate and it’s hard to tell what’s real and what’s not anymore.

Alcina comes back in and her eyes water at how drained you look. She sits down next to you and runs her fingers through your sweaty hair. “I’m so sorry, my love,” She apologizes. She had been too blinded by rage to see the true impact her actions were having on you.

Your eyes suddenly pop open when you hear her voice and you turn to look at her deliriously. “Alcina?” You ask in confusion.

Alcina chokes back a sob but looks down at you and gives you a smile. “Hi, baby. I’m going to make you feel better, okay?” She asks.

You are so groggy that you just nod your head before your eyes close again. You are really out of it. So out of it, that you aren’t recoiling at the very sight of her.

Alcina bites back a wave of nausea at this realization. She has become the most feared figure in your life. And for good reason. Damn, she is so fucking selfish. But… Seeing you so calm around her right now is… Making her feel like this was still all worth it. Like you two are on better terms than you really are. It reminds her of the love you both shared before… She needs a drink.

Alcina carefully picks you up and brings you to the tub. She sits on the ledge with you on her lap, but realizes that you won’t be able to sit up on your own. She decides to get in with you. She takes off her dress, carefully maneuvering you so you don’t fall, and steps in before sitting down and holding you.

You whine in your sleep at the cool temperature of the water but Alcina shushes you and gently hugs you closer. “Here we go, draga,” Alcina says calmly and begins washing you. She’s ashamed at how dirty you got while you were down in the dungeon. She has to scrub you vigorously to get all of the grime off of you, but she carefully avoids getting your injured arm wet. She’s dreading cleaning it. She knows it will be excruciating for you.

Finally, Alcina finishes bathing you and you feel a bit cooler than you did before. She softly dries you off and wraps you in a towel before bringing you back into the bedroom. She carefully slips you under the covers of her opulent bed and tucks you in.

She retrieves a first aid kit from her desk and gets all of the supplies she’s going to need out of it. She takes a deep breath, steeling her resolve, before cleaning your wounds.

As soon as Alcina starts, you wake up and begin to holler in pain. It’s tortuous and you don’t even know what’s going on.

Alcina’s heart breaks as she works and sees your reaction. “I know, my darling. I’m so sorry,” She says and kisses your cheek. “You’re so brave, draga,” She praises.

You continue to bawl in agony, but Alcina’s voice is actually helping. You are so sick, that now you don’t remember that it was Alcina who let you get so bad in the first place. You are seemingly under her spell again.

After a few minutes, Alcina finally feels confident that your wounds are sufficiently cleaned and begins to bandage them up.

As you feel Alcina stop rubbing your sore gashes, you open your eyes and… Admire her. She looks so beautiful. Why does it feel like… It’s been so long since you’ve seen her?

Something in your brain has clearly… Snapped. Lumping together your illness, the blinding pain you are currently in, and the sheer trauma you’ve been through, your brain has decided to put a lock on the recent misery you’ve been subjected to. At least, for the moment.

Somewhere, deep down, you know that your relationship with Alcina is not the same as it once was, but… You’re tired and… The warmth of her arms encircling your weakened body is intoxicating. You decide to deal with all of these confusing feelings later when you wake up. But, for the time being, Alcina seems like a pretty safe place to rest your weary head.

… How very wrong you are.

Note: I really wanted to tackle some of what Alcina was thinking and feeling in this one :) I “Hope” You liked it! … Hehe, Hope. Get it? Alright, I’ll see myself out.

Masterlist

#alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #re8 #re8 village #re8 lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitriscu x reader #lady dimitrescu x reader #alcina dimitrescu x y/n #alcina dimitrescu x reader #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #resident evil #resident evil imagines #lady dimitrescu x y/n #angst #angst drabble

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nerdieforpedro · 4 months

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Weddings 101 with Dieter

Chapter Three: Meeting the Family

Dieter Bravo x plus size OFC (Maya)

Fanfiction 18+

Masterlist / Dieter Bravo Masterlist / Weddings 101 with Dieter Series

Word Count: approx 5.2k

Summary: Maya is awoken to Dieter having a vivd dream that benefits both of them. They go off to the separate events, Maya to the start of wedding stuff and Dieter to his golf press appearance. Maya is not enjoying herself at all and Dieter continues his beef with Oscar Issac. Daisy comes through for the win.

Warnings: self-doubt, sexy clouds, Dieter is a grabby menace, grinding, biting, sucking, vivid dreams, mutual masturbation, more bad nicknames, more Oscar Issac slander, body worship, one rouge mushroom, Dieter's MOUTH

Notes: Dieter has been chillin’ in my brain for the last few weeks. After posting chapter two, I started writing chapter 3 and here is where we are. I’m going for a rom-com vibe because Pedro hasn’t been in any and that saddens me greatly. He’d be so good in one! 😫 I’m aware that Pedro and Oscar are best buddies in real-life, I just wanted to add to the comedy for Dieter having a beef another actor and since he got mad about Star Wars last time, it was perfect.

Groggy, Maya opened her eyes, things were blurry and she couldn’t make anything out. She felt warm, maybe even a little hot. Not sure why, it was comfortable so she dozed back to sleep. An hour later, she awoke again, feeling like she had a new lease on life. She didn’t remember any of her dreams, never did, but felt a sense of unexplained joy. When she moved, things became more apparent.

She’s chest to chest with Dieter, laying on top of him. One leg is draped over his hips and her hand is cradling the back of his head. Her face on his chest and hears his heartbeat, surprisingly slow to her. He’s really sleeping comfortably with her weight on him like this. More shocking than that is she didn’t feel like moving. His body was sturdy, not something she imagined when thinking of Dieter. Lips parted slightly as his chest rises and falls, just listening to him soothes her nerves. Maybe this isn’t so bad. I mean I didn’t mean to be in his bed the first night here, but like this isn’t horrible. I wonder if he’d be startled if he woke up right now, wait…what time is it?

Maya recalled what Bravo’s assistant had mentioned yesterday, that he had somewhere to be at noon. Some press thing maybe, but whatever it was, she needed to know the time now. She didn’t hear anyone else in the villa that she could tell so maybe it wasn’t quite time yet. No alarm was going off so it should at least be before eleven. Now the next question, how should she wake him up? Just push his head, pinch him, move her leg, poke him… something may already be poking. No that’s just morning wood, it doesn’t mean what you think it means. Maya took her hand off Dieter’s head and pushed her torso up off of his chest, hearing him groan as she rolled on her back, swinging her leg quickly and brushing his erection.

A soft “Fuck baby,” was heard at the loss of the softness. Dieter was dreaming he was inside a cloud, laying on a bean bag with Kit Kat on top of him. She just was making fun of how goofy his face was with his wide cheerful smile, Just enjoying the sound of her voice as she talked and the pressure from her body, but then she floated away, saying she had to go. He reached for her and was able to wrap his arms around her, pressing his face between her cushiony bosoms instead of her stomach this time. “Shit you can’t get away. This is the best feeling, You can’t go Maya, you’re my Kit Kat dammit.” He heard loud drums suddenly, they scared him so he pressed his face deeper, turning his head side to side, the friction from his beard making his face warm. His lips found what he thought was her breastbone as he kept pressing his nose deeper, tipping his chin up, he extended his tongue and licked, tasting a mix of skin, sweat. He mumbled something into her chest and started to alternate between sucking and nibbling. The tempo of the drums changed from sounding like timpani (large orchestra drum) to snare drums that were uneven. They complemented the low sighs he heard, encouraging him to only suck harder and branch out toward her breasts. Once he did, the sighs transformed into moans, the back of his head had a familiar pressure on it from four to five different small points and his back was being raked by something sharp. It didn’t matter, all of it was euphoric, Dieter had never had a dream like this.

“Sweet Lips…sta- shit that feels good…” Her moans continued, she wrapped her arms around his head, to keep his head at her breasts. Maya’s thighs pressed together, she expected to be able to get out the bed but now she was participating in whatever dream Dieter seemed to be having. A dream about her. She was pleasantly surprised, but worried, she still didn’t know what time it was and didn’t want the assistant or anyone else walking in and seeing them like this. Bravo had pulled up her shirt and bra to access her breasts, it was why she thought he was awake, but despite her increasing moans and calling his name, he didn’t respond, just kept sucking and teasing her. She knew whenever she did get up, she’d need to wash her panties and shorts as they were soaked. His hardness kept grazing her knee and thigh, moist with what was likely his own precum. “Fuck, it’s just there…Dieter it’s not fair…Mmm…” He grazed her nipple with his teeth and she yelped, digging her fingers into his scalp before grabbing the base of his neck. Using her thighs, she was able to provide some friction to his cock as he kneaded and suckled on her breasts.

While Dieter was trapped within the warmth of his Kit Kat cloud, he felt the pressure of a firm water mattress around his cock. The fabric of his pants were a hindrance in identifying the true nature of the presence he felt providing his throbbing member some relief. His hips started to jerk as he grew closer to his release, moving faster the more he heard cursing along with his name. He managed to work both nipples into his mouth as he climaxed into his pants and onto the warm water bed. Taking his head from the breasts he was so fond off, his world view began to change

He was on a mattress, but there were no water or clouds, instead there were pillows, sheets and Maya. Her shirt was raised along with her bra and her breasts were slightly swollen and in his hands as he still massaged them gently. His face cooled from the departure as he looked up at a wondrous sight, Maya panting looking down at him, her eyes fluttering trying to focus but unable to. Her hand was on his neck. He looked down and his pants were wet with not only his spend, but some of hers that had leaked from her shorts. Dieter was conflicted, he was coming down from an excellent sex dream induced high that he had acted out with the person he had been dreaming about. The question was, is she okay with what he did? He wasn’t sure if the effects of Molly had worn off yet and she was perhaps more sensitive and hadn’t been alright at all with him touching her. “Maya, are you alright? I was having an intense dream and it looks like I-”

“Dee, you’re not fair at all. How the hell are you going to be so good at that while asleep?! It’s not right, I’ve never been happier about having sore breasts.” Maya sighed and cupped his cheek. She giggled and he exhaled, that’s one elephant out of the room, the second would be equally as worrisome. “I felt more sensitive. Is that because of the juice I drank last night? What was in there?” Dieter closed his eyes and placed a hand on her hip, pulling her shirt down. Her breasts were distracting and this needed to be said with the proper attention, though he was surprised that she remembered feeling off and drinking the juice, did she remember what she told him last night?

“Well that juice was supposed to be for my two day golf press tour. I show up, take pictures and do some autographs. It’s boring but pays well. I drink my juice spiked with some Molly to put me in a better mood for it.” He explained, his fingers tapping to the drums he had heard in his dream.

“Ah that explains it. I felt real giggly and very bendy? Flexible? No.” She paused, trying to find the right word to describe it. She had sensed something was off, but didn’t mind it. She recalled drinking a lot of water as well too. “Open! That’s the right word! Open to any and everything. It’s a fun feeling like someone took out all my worries, but scary now that I think about it. Anyway I should have asked what was in your fridge given you told me that it was the most fun you’d had just by drinking.” Her laugh told Dieter that maybe things were alright for now, he didn’t need to ask about what she mentioned in the kitchen. Her soft lips kissed his head as she rolled away from him, popping up out of the bed. Scanning the room, Maya didn’t see a clock at the bedside or on the wall. She also didn’t see her phone either. It turned out she was in her room instead of Dieter’s so it should be in here. Maybe she left it downstairs after setting the alarm.

Dieter got up on all fours and crawled to the edge of the bed, “Looking for something?” He wiggles his butt as Maya turns and she giggled, using a finger to poke his forehead.

“I’m looking for my phone, a clock or any indication of time. You have to be showered and dressed by noon and I should be getting to the introductory brunch with everyone.” Her hand went to his curls, using her nails to run along his scalp and she was sure he purred. Dieter lowered his head to allow her to continue, a low hum mixed in with the purrs. “Enjoy that my fluffy boy? I can massage it more later tonight.” She paused, “Oh! Sugar Li-“

“Fluffy boy or Dieter is perfect Maya.” He ran his palm along the forearm of her hand that was atop his head, he looked up and smirked, “That’s a promise Kit Kat. I’ll hold you to it. Ask me if I enjoy it again. Say my name this time.” He moved closer to the edge of the bed and wrapped his arms around her hips, his cheek on her stomach, listening as it churned with hunger. He gave it a swift peck and nuzzled into her belly further.

This time, she used both hands to graze the top of his head, feeling his soft curls and spotting flashes of gray within the chocolate brown. She looked down, resisting the urge to pull him up and take his lips, he appeared content to hold her. Maya took a quiet rasp, closing her eyes as she explored his crown, “Do you enjoy my fingers grazing your scalp Dieter?”

“Abso-fuckin’…Yes. Yes.” Bravo panted, his hand trailed from her lower back to her round ass, filling his hand and started to knead it as he had her breasts. “Maya, what time do you absolutely need to be at that family brunch thing?” His face emerged out of her belly and peered up at her, his eyes pleading. If she came with him, he might not need the orange juice for the press interactions, though he may inspire other questions that had nothing to do with his projects. She cupped his face and opened her eyes, Maya felt she could be too easily swayed by his eyes so she focused on his lips and how pink they were. Also a bad move.

“Need to be there by one. You can stop by after your press thing. After brunch, there’s going to just going to be some family gathering stuff and then I plan to make it an early dinner so I can bail. Though I’ll need to bring the bridesmaid dress because my mother and the bride’s mother will want to see all of us in them.” A long sigh followed. He could tell she wasn't looking forward to this at all, was it the dress itself, the people, the comparison with the other bridesmaids, both mothers? He’ll see how long he’d need to be at the golf event and as soon as he can, he’s getting out of there to come get Maya out of there. “You need to get ready though, then I can get ready.” An empty chuckle left her lips as she released his head and Dieter followed suit and let her go. He rolled to his side of the bed and retrieved his phone. It was only half after ten. He let her know and went downstairs to heat up the pizza and eat it, Maya found her phone on the kitchen island, it was at five percent so she plugged it in when she went up to her room briefly.

Sitting and eating pizza together, they laughed and Dieter pouted when she brought up Oscar Issac again. He threw a mushroom at her, hitting her arm. She picked it off and ate it as they played around and ate. Finally when they finished, they went to their respective rooms and showered. Dieter put on a button down short sleeve shirt that was split down the middle - one half had zebra print and the other half had cheetah print on it. Daisy, who had been MIA the entire night nipped at Dieter’s ankles before he slipped on his gray boxer briefs, the elastic settling just under his round pouch of a belly and sitting on his hips. He picked up the goat and kissed her forehead. “You traitor. You left me last night. Still love you though.” The small goat baahed at him and licked his chin, its rough tongue made him laugh. He needed to pick out pants though, he didn’t really care so he pulled out a black pair when he heard a soft knock at his door. “Come in, you don’t need to knock Kit Kat. It’s only us two here and Daisy.”

Retrieving his black slacks, he set Daisy on the bed and the pants as well before sitting on the bed and putting on some white socks and his pants. He had the pants around his knees when he turned to see Maya who stood in the doorway looking away shyly. A grin crossed his face and her spun around and pulled the back of his shirt up, wiggling his ass at her. He heard her laugh, “Better than Oscar’s right?” She shook her head and he pulled up his pants and buttoned them, bitting his lips in frustration.

“Objectively I can’t lie to you Sugar Lips.” Maya chuckled, walking to sit on the bed and pet Daisy. She wore a dress that had a deep V in front, the base was white and it had lines of gold, green, brown ovals and various splashes of orange. It was nearly to the floor so only her feet poked out when she walked. Her hair was pinned up in a neat bun and she wore gold earrings. It was the fuchsia color on her lips that drew the most attention, it made her lips appear fuller then they already were. “But you’ve got other things Oscar doesn’t so don’t fret so much and I’ll try not to tease you about it.”

Dieter plopped down next to her as Daisy hopped to the floor, sauntering around. “What other things huh? And with that lipstick, I should call you Sugar Lips.” He laid his hand over hers and he remembered, “I don’t have your number Maya. I can’t send you pictures of Daisy or eggplant emojis.”

“You’re impossible. It can’t just be texts and memes? Eggplants, really?”

“Yeah and maybe some of the things that might be better than that man. Stupid bubble butt.” He stood to retrieve his phone and sat back down, unlocked it and handed it to Maya. “Put your number in and save yourself as…” He thought for a moment.

“Mi Reina (My queen).”

“Oh? What does that mean?” She did as he asked and entered her number and saved it.

Bravo laid his head on her shoulder and spoke into her ear, “I’ll tell you tonight while you’re rubbing my head again and I’m in your lap.” He licked her earlobe and scooped up Daisy who had returned, making his way to the door. One hand sent her a text to ensure she has his number too. “Let me know what you save me as Kit Kat. We should head downstairs. It’s eleven thirty.” The grin never left his face and he felt confident he had enticed her enough. Maya stopped on the way down to grab her phone, purse, brown sandals and a garment bag before meeting Dieter downstairs on the living room couch. Draping the bag over the back of the couch she sat next to Dieter and cut her eyes at him.

“Despite you being impossible at times,” Her hand touched her cool earlobe that previously had his tongue on it, “it’s also one of the charms you possess, Dieter.”

“I have charms now? Not just impossible?”

“You know you do. That mouth of yours is- ” Dieter places one hand at the side of her thighs and parted his lips after licking them.

“My mouth is what, Maya?” He taunts, he leans like he’s going to kiss her but stops. “I can’t mess up your lipstick of course. Tell me what it does for you bebita (baby girl).” Lips graze her neck and his hands move up to her thighs, his tongue trails down to just above her breasts. Warm breath against her skin, her hands snaked to hold his soft sides. “Let me hear what I heard this morning. I’ll be thinking about it while answering those asinine questions. Por favor (please).” His chin touched her breast and he groaned, hearing Maya trying to stifle her moans only had him press his fingers into her thighs more. Dieter used his teeth to nibble gently on her breast which made her finally give him what he wanted, a deep bellow of pleasure.

“Your mouth is dangerous, shit Dieter. Please, it’s almost time-” One hand was moving up to his head but she stopped herself and just held the back of his neck. She couldn’t pull him away, her back was curving into his face.

“Just a little longer cariño (dear).” His teeth started on her other breasts softly nibbling before a ‘swip’ was heard. Dieter stopped and peered over the back of the couch. Daisy had tugged on Maya’s garment bag and pulled it to the floor. “Daisy, you really are a traitor.” he reluctantly stood up and picked up the garment bag, draping it back over the couch as Maya straightened her dress back out.

“Daisy’s helping both of us out. That should be saved for when we’re alone.” Zack and two drivers were making their way in the villa. Dieter hadn’t heard them come in at all. The click of his tongue told the assistant that he likely had interrupted something but there was a schedule to keep.

“Um, sir. Sorry to interrupt, but we should leave. Good morning Ms. Maya.” He smiled brightly. Dieter sighed and gave Kit Kat a peck on the cheek, she took his hand and whispered to him,

“I think I’m going to move up the time table on fucking you Sugar Lips.” Bravo’s eyes widened, she remembered saying that? Maya’s other hand gave his ass a solid squeeze. “For the record, I like your ass better than Oscar’s.” With that, she walked out with one of the drivers who carried her purse and garment bag as she hopped in the car and departed. Zack gave his boss a few minutes, thankfully he had built in time just in case the award winner wasn’t ready, but he ended up clearing his throat to bring Dieter back to reality. He made sure to grab his orange juice on the way out. The star followed his assistant and sat in the back of the car with Daisy, uncomfortably hard and looking out the window thinking of a way to bail on this event and drop by that brunch.

Maya wasn’t fairing much better, shifting around in the back of the car as the villa disappeared behind her. Her hands ran along the garment bag and then her thighs where Dieter’s hands had been. “Smooth bastard. I’ll need to see if they have a CVS or Walgreens here for some condoms. I can’t get it out of my head from this morning. I won’t tease him as much when I get back.” A soft smile graced her lips as she watched the trees slowly change into buildings, getting closer to the hotel. The Hilton was a nice hotel yes, but she was only looking forward to seeing her mother, father and brothers. Both sides of the now joining family proved to be insufferable at the engagement and bridal shower. It’s why she skipped the bachelorette party, a fact that the bride’s mother never failed to mention.

Arriving at the hotel in a black audi did give her an air of satisfaction as some of the family members watched her walk in, her white dress with its pattern flowing behind her in the warm sun. Maya made her way to the main room where she knew brunch was in progress and spotted her mother, making a bee line for the short woman in her four inch heels, gray dress and gold bangles and rings. She wore them due to the residual effects of her rheumatoid arthritis but moved like a woman thirty years her junior.

“Hey Sweetie! You made it! I love the lipstick. I wasn’t sure about the dress but it suits you. You look like you’re floating.” They embraced and shared a hug, rocking side to side before they parted, holding each other’s hands.

“Hey ma, you look beautiful. There still some food around?” Maya asked and her mother shook her head. ‘This child’ she likely thought, but she did notice a small red mark at the top one of her breasts.

“I think someone may have eaten you. You have any concealer Maya? If not, I can grab you some before they come over.” She dropped her hands and walked over to a chair where her purse was a few feet away. Removing a sponge and some liquid makeup, swished her hand to indicate for her to hold her dress to the side slightly to apply the makeup. She did and blended it out with the sponge, once happy with her work, then had Maya adjust her dress again. “Is whoever this is here or coming to the wedding?”

A long sigh left Kit Kat’s lips, “Maybe, I don’t know about today, but probably later this week. He’s…different. But it’s good I think.” Maya’s mother watches as a smile crept along her face, whoever it was, this man was someone who made her happy, which was very good.

“Well, go get some food and eat. The family’s going to bop around a bit more and then they want to do the final fitting for the bridesmaid dresses. Why it couldn’t be done weeks ago is beyond me? She maybe shouldn’t have changed colors so many times.” Her mother began to gripe but stopped when she saw the look in her daughter’s face. It wasn’t the time, the complaining could happen after things were said and done. She went to track down her husband who was taking advantage of the free wine samples offered until two in the afternoon. It was one forty five so he was entitled to a full fifteen minutes of wine drinking and would not accept anything less.

Maya went to eat some sausage, eggs, and pancakes, grabbing two of each as she had eaten pizza already this morning. It was then that the bride appeared, greeting her warmly. She wasn’t a mean or annoying woman. Well, a little annoying, but only because she didn’t listen to any of the suggestions. Which yes, it’s her wedding, Maya understood that, but she wasn’t the only larger bridesmaid and the three of them with Maya included, weren’t into the strapless design or the dress being made in lace with a slip under it. You’re in Hawaii, in a humid ass place and needed to wear shapewear in addition to a tight dress was….now you sound like your mother.

The two women hugged and briefly chatted about the trip over here. The bride said hers was smooth and really enjoyed spending time with Michael, Maya’s brother. Nodding, Maya stated that her journey here had a few hiccups but turned out to be great, knowing that she wouldn't ask any further. Maya slowly ate her food, knowing that the fitting was imminent and followed Elyssa, the bride, up to one of the eighth floor rooms where all the other bridesmaids were waiting. None of them looked excited or even tried to keep a neutral face. What had happened?

“We’re going with another new color and style ladies!” Elyssa said excitedly, everyone groaned simultaneously. This fitting just became infinitely worse.

Dieter was trying to hold off on drinking his juice. He wanted to save it for either a really tiresome interview or if he had to talk to anyone about whoever the hell was playing golf. He didn’t care, he was here because they wanted to use his appearance to promote the tournament and he could talk about some of the projects he was producing. He hadn’t found any roles recently that he wanted to be a part of since the Cliff Beasts fiasco and into writing, painting and producing. He was talking with one interviewer who was asking about some of his artwork, someone who actually bothered to do some research. It was a fun conversation, until that douche popped up. Was he even supposed to be here?

Oscar Issac - who beat him out for the Star Wars role he wanted and could frustratingly play guitar and sing. This bastard who won some nonsense poll about who had better curls between Bravo and Issac and was sporting a full well-groomed beard with splashes of gray in it. And now some other interview has mentioned his ‘cakes’ from the last movie Oscar did where he spends a fair amount with no pants on. Dieter may be in a one-sided beef with the man, but he was going to keep calm. Be cool. Just grab his orange juice to chill out.

His assistant Zack had it though and he wasn’t nearby. “Fuck.” Dieter muttered under his breath as Oscar walked over, opening his arms for a hug. Turning on the charm, he hugged him back and patted his back, a little too hard.

“Hey Bravo, how are you? I heard you might be here. It’s good to see you.” A pearly white smile beamed from him. Go away. I want nothing to do with you.

“Fine. Just interviews and press. What’s new with you Issac? Singing about some more hippos?” Dieter meant it to be playful, but the vitriol was clear. Oscar picked up on it and he smirked, his eyebrows raising.

“Did another stint on broadway. You ever think trying it out Bravo?” Oscar stepped closer to Dieter, “Oh, that’s right, you’ve flamed out and can’t hack it anymore. Doing your little scribbles and paints. Cabrón (bastard).” Dieter sucked his teeth, tapping his foot as fists formed at his sides. Wasn’t one sided after all, arrogant bastard. The camera around them snapped pictures of the two men smiling and talking, unaware of the battle for the last word taking place. Daisy trotted over and took her place near Bravo’s feet.

Oscar bent down to pet Daisy which she allowed and Dieter followed suit, it was an excellent photo op, the pair of them with a baby goat. After a few pictures, Daisy walked a foot away and the two men continued taking pictures flashing peace signs while crouched.

“Say what you will about my acting, but my art has already made millions and I can do it well after I retire from acting. What are you gonna do? Hop on a Christmas album with Mariah Carey when she re-emerges this winter?” Dieter continued as he stood back up beaming, “You and your hippos can only dream hijo de punta (son of a bitch).” Bravo waved to the cameras, when Oscar went to stand he was met with pain.

Not from his knees, but a bite from one Daisy who maybe was going after the back pocket of his suit pants, but got a chunk of his ass in addition to the pocket. Issac let out a loud scream as Dieter laughed, this was the best thing to ever happen at a press event. It wasn’t long before he was escorted out with his goat, assistant, and his juice he never got to drink. The organizers confirmed that yes, he would still be paid as had done the interview and pictures and that’s mainly what he needed to know, as great as it was to see Oscar finally get his, he didn’t show up there for free.

“Tell the driver to go to the Hilton hotel. I have someone to surprise. Isn’t that right Daisy? You’re not a traitor afterall. I hope you get the taste out of your mouth.” Dieter turned to his assistant Zack who just told the driver the address of the Hilton. “You got a snack for Daisy? She couldn’t have Oscar’s taste on her lips.” His large hand rubbed the goat’s head as she softly baahed and nuzzled into his chest. Zack got out a bag that had some snacks, giving the goat some carrots to nibble on. He held onto the small animal for Dieter as he hopped out of the SUV once the arrived at the hotel. He entered and asked at the front desk about a wedding party, they pointed him in the direction of the grand ballroom where some people were standing around, some were dancing and others were eating. It seemed that they may be in between events but he didn’t see her. He knew she’d be easy to pick out in the dress he saw this morning and her figure alone. A hand appeared on his shoulder and he turned to see the top of a head so he looked down.

“You looking for someone? Are you a guest of someone hun?” A warm voice asked him, he looked down to see an older woman with reddish brown hair looking up at him with a smile. Dieter noted that she had a ring on nearly every finger and multiple bracelets on both wrists. He nodded and she chuckled, it was similar to Maya.

“I am. Would you happen to be related to Maya?” he asked as she lowered her hand, she now wore a navy blue dress with suede heels, three inches this time.

“I’m her mother, Yvette. I take it she’s staying with you. She wasn’t sure if you were coming or not. Glad that you made it.” She started to walk down a hallway. “Follow me, I’ll show you where she is. Your name hun?” Ms. Yvette looked back and Dieter scratched the back of his head, he figured things would be fine. Meeting her mom was a little weird, but it was her brother’s wedding, he’d been hoping Maya would be with him when he met her but it didn’t appear bad yet. Dieter and Yvette rode the elevator to the eighth floor where the fittings had still been taking place.

Previous: Chapter Two

Next: Chapter Four

The tag list: @katw474 @readingiskeepingmegoing

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#pedro pascal characters #fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #dieter bravo #dieter bravo fanfic #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter bravo x plus size reader #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo smut #Weddings 101 with Dieter

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meds4beatlemania · 1 year

Text

Please (Don’t Leave Me)

A/N: Here is my secret santa fanfiction to Daisy @powerofelvis! I really hope you enjoy this sweet, sweet angst featuring Big Daddy Elvis in all of his glory!

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Warnings: Alcohol use, passive aggressiveness, drug use, mentions of dead bodies, the reader is a bitch when she’s drunk

The fur was flying, and it was worthy of an Oscar. You certainly could’ve snatched that “Best Lead Actress” award if this was a movie. But this wasn’t a movie - this was the true events behind it that even National Enquirer couldn’t make up. You and Elvis were settling down in his penthouse suite after a party, and “too much to drink” was the understatement of the century.

“I’m just saying that people don’t talk like that in Virginia, Elvis! And I was born there!”

“Oh, what do you know?” His sour-smelling roar echoed in his own body as he could barely stand without shaking. He paced around the giant room with a glass, as if he was a car desperate to empty its gas tank. In and out he breathed, his body morphing. Before your eyes he went from 39 years old to 28 and back like time and space was having a muscle spasm. He threw the glass, hitting the wall behind you. Even if it did hit, there’s so much Black Velvet and Obetrol in your system it wouldn’t even phase you until Easter.

“Wow.” you clapped slowly. “What a missed opportunity you had…What a opportunity football was.”

He growled again. It’s too late in the night for this bullshit. You refreshed your drink, pausing at the rattling of his medications. You gulped it down and once more invigorated with anger and alcohol you were ready for another round.

He slumped onto the bed, quickly sinking into the sheets. His clammy hands gripped the cool silk and cotton for dear life.

“Remember when you died?” His name got caught in your dried and sore vocal chords. Blood pounded in your brain, a headache starting to form. "Your heart stopped, and all anyone did was pull your strings harder to get you on that stage. All I saw was that puppet spazzing in your goddamn place!“ You threw your own drink to the ground.

“Tell me, honey.” You crept closer to him, daring him to react. “Did you see Heaven? Was it nice? Or was eternal happiness so disappointing, so dull you waltzed back down to the real party? Where all you are to everyone is a slot machine that wins every time."

Elvis didn’t answer. He took off his suit jacket, tossed it aside and passed out. You assume he did. You didn’t really know how many of those goddamn things he takes every night.

You crawled up next to him, a morbid feeling gripping your mind as you took his cold, moist hand in yours. Hot bile rose in the back of your throat - this wasn’t cuddling, it was voyeuristic. Laying like this with Elvis was like a child holding the rotting hands of their decayed parents, crying because they don't know why they aren’t answering. Your stomach twisted into knots. Nothing in your life has ever felt so wrong. As your eyes finally grew heavy in the early morning, a part of you whispered from outside your body, praying to never wake up.

Well, it looks like you didn’t pray hard enough. Your brain was borderline murderous when you awoke. A layer of cold sweat between you two stuck your clothes together like glue. You looked over at the clock beside the bed.

7:34 a.m.

Dammit. Elvis needs to get up.

Looking over, you checked for any vital signs. A very obnoxious snore protruded from his sleeping form.

Respiration rate, check.

You gently pressed on his wrist, counting the beats for half of a minute.

Pulse rate, check.

Elvis shifted in his sleep, turning around to get rid of a stiff arm. He was likely half-asleep, but he opened his eyes and smiled against the sunlight beaming in from the windows.

“Close the curtains, will ya, doll?” You nodded, tired but glad he wanted to have a break for once. If only he could do this more often.

You went over the phone, careful of any shattered glass. Honestly, the cold floor hurt your bare feet more.

“Room service? Yes, I’d like to request a housekeeper, and two Bloody Marys. “Your brain kicked against your skull, desperate to escape. You tried to soothe it, but talking just really hurt. “But could you, like, hold them in stand by until 11-ish? Room 3000, please. Thank you.”

There’s no doubt he fell asleep while you were up, but you didn’t mind the gentle spooning once you’d returned. He kissed above your head, and the two of you melted into the mattress for a few more hours.

#elvis presley #elvis fluff #elvis movie #elvis angst #elvis 2022 #fanficiton #elvis x reader #elvis fanfic

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wackus-bonkus-maximus · 7 months

Note

I am enjoying your book even more on my reread- every good book should be reread to have the context lacking the first time through- Lila is so gross.

So my question was and is: how is she controlling Gabriel? Actually, I’m wondering how she’s controlling all of them besides Adrien. I’d guessing for Gabriel and maybe Felix, it’s the threat of what she can do to Adrien with the Amok? I don’t have a good guess for why Chloe seems to have sold her soul to the devil for a piece of the wish…

🥺💘 and here i thought i couldn't be more grateful and honored to have my writing liked to such a degree! thank you for coming back for a re-read 💗 and thank you also for enjoying!

you kinda hit the nail on the head already. lila controls gabriel, and all of her teammates by extension, with adrien's amok. it's like a remote that she could make him do anything with. and they all go along with what she says for fear of her hurting adrien.

her control over gabriel (chapter 27):

Gabriel looked at him, and then at Lila. She raised her brows coolly, toying with the chain around her neck, and something in Gabriel’s expression hardened. “It’s already done,” he said heavily, and twisted the ring on his finger.

he's wearing a fake ring in this scene, and has been for years. she's hidden the real amok on her person, and when she wants adrien to do something, she makes it look like gabriel is giving the orders when really it's her.

her control over felix (chapter 31):

She had Adrien’s Amok, which meant she as good as had Félix’s, too. He doubted Gabriel had simply handed it over. The man was capable of many things, but not of that. He would not have relinquished his power with such ease. He would not have relinquished Adrien.

felix and adrien's amoks are a package deal in this au. if lila breaks adrien's amok, both felix and adrien will die. so basically felix sticks around to make sure lila doesn't force adrien into anything he wouldn't want to do under the influence of his amok, AND to make sure nothing happens to the amok itself. bc then they're both goners.

control over chloe (chapter 10)

chloe was afraid that, if she didn't help gabriel, lila, and felix, they would hurt her and her family. she pretended to be on their side out of a survival instinct - her own form of manipulation, coming from a sense of self-preservation.

There were a lot of things in Chloé’s life she knew she shouldn’t have done, but did anyway. Like turning to look as the fox and peacock Kwamis phased through the wall, or standing her ground as Félix, Lila, and Gabriel darted out of the office in hot pursuit. They all stared at her, and she stared back, refusing to let them know how hard her heart was pounding, or how much her palms were sweating. Pretend! said a voice in her head. It’s what you’re best at. “Bonjour, M. Agreste,” Chloé said, rather proud of how calm she sounded. She set her shoes on the ugly carpeted floor and stepped back into them, holding her head high and balling her shaking fists as she approached. She would not be afraid. She could not be afraid. She could never let them know. “I’ve come for my interview.”

but of course lila found out, and, well. you see the consequences chloe had to face! (chapter 19)

“Besides,” said Volpina, coming forward to slide an arm around Kagami’s shoulders. “We’d like to offer you a demonstration. An example, if you please, of what will happen if you break our trust.” “An example,” Kagami repeated, trying to shove down the sick lurch in her stomach. “I don’t need—” “Oh, I think you do.” Volpina winked at her, then inclined her head toward Mellona, letting her hair fall softly over her shoulder. “I think you've met her, too. Tell me, Ryuko, what do you know about Zoé Lee?”

not to mention lila headed straight over to kill chloe after she realized chloe had betrayed the team (chapter 30) 🤣

i hope this helps clarify! thank you again so much for reading 💗

#odnlb #one does not love breathing #chloe bourgeois #gabriel agreste #felix graham de vanily #felix f*th*m #ml fanfic #miraculous fanfic #if you're one of those ppl who downloaded my fic btw #pls note that i caught several errors while going back to read through these scenes ahhh #by this time you should know to re-download it at least twice a year to be safe

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callsign-bunnie · 11 months

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Should I start paying rent in here?

Hey uh.. heard that part 3 of prof graves AleRudy love triangle was a thing.. you ever tried it? Oh you have? Any idea where it might be… no reason just uh, lil curious *dumb wink*

If you remember Kaleb has my number, cmon every one knows Kaleb. Oh how do I? We go way back man, met trying that why can’t we be more stuff! He hasn’t mentioned me? Oh yeah I used to be kinda shy but we’re good mates- what do you mean he never touched that stuff?! Course he did *sweat drop*, doubt he’d save it just for us. Maybe he just didn’t feel like sharing aye?

(I got carried away with this under cover cop thing)

I think this might be my friend, the typing style is similar and they're the only person I know who would spell Kaleb with a K. Regardless, this is my favorite bit I've ever done, please keep doing it

Did Rodolfo feel guilty about still going to see Professor Graves after his classes on Monday? Maybe. But… Rodolfo wasn’t sure if he felt so guilty towards Graves or Alejandro…

Maybe it was both.

Maybe.

But, that didn’t stop him. In fact, maybe it encouraged him, slightly, as he slowly packed his things, watching the other students leave. He’d stuck his camera in his bag, in case it was something he wanted to take a picture of, deciding to learn his lesson from Saturday.

Sunday… Sunday had been wonderful. He’d woken up to a hot breakfast and he’d woken up entirely too late. But, apparently Soap had canceled on him, so… Something to do with Ghost. Rodolfo hadn’t minded, he’d spent the day with Alejandro.

He wondered how long this would last. He was getting so much more attention than he’d ever gotten before and he knew it wouldn’t last, but… how much longer would he have? He didn’t know. Did he want to?

Rodolfo shook off the thought and went down to Professor Graves’ desk when everyone was gone. “You said you had something to show me?” Was he skipping his next class for this? Maybe.

“I do!” Graves grinned, looking up from his laptop. “I already talked to the teacher of your next class, so you don’t have to worry about that. You’ve been excused.”

Rodolfo relaxed and nodded. He loved the way Graves seemed to consider everything. He was so sweet and thoughtful… Alejandro was sweet, too, but he was impulsive and maybe a bit immature. Though… Alejandro was one for small details. Tiny things. Why was he comparing them? He didn’t know.

“That’s great.” Rodolfo finally said, smiling. “What is it?”

Graves stood and led him to his office where Rodolfo frowned as he saw something large and covered in a cloth. He watched his professor pull down the cloth and then he was staring at the same painting as from the book. “It’s a recreation, of course. But… I thought you’d want to see it before I had it sent to the museum.” Graves explained, turning to look at him.

“It’s…” Rodolfo was in awe. He went to the painting, looking over it, at all of the detail. He and the royal really did look so strikingly similar. Every part of them was the same, save for the royal’s hair, which was a lot wavier than Rodolfo was willing to let his get. “It’s beautiful.” He finally said.

The painting was large enough that Rodolfo and the Royal had a perfect equal scale, a 1 to 1. He jokingly posed the same, resting his left hand on his stomach and his hand on where the large ruby of the necklace would be, before turning and looking at Graves. “What do you think? Think I’m a good substitute for the real thing?”

“You’re almost a carbon copy.” Graves laughed before coming over, adjusting his pose ever so slightly. “There. Perfect. Hmm… I wish you had the jewelry on, I’d get a picture.”

“I have a polaroid camera in my bag,” Rodolfo confessed, dropping the pose and shaking his head. “I don’t really take pictures of myself.”

“Why not?” Graves frowned. “That’s a crime, you’re too beautiful for that.”

Rodolfo blushed dark red, his brain failing to work for a moment. It only got worse as Graves reached up and brushed some hair from where it had fallen in front of his eyes. “I just… never get the chance. Soap doesn’t really take pictures of me and it’s hard to take pictures of myself with that camera.”

Graves tilted his head before shrugging. “I’ll fix that.” He grabbed a chair from nearby, placing it in front of the painting and then smiling. “Sit.”

Rodolfo blushed but did as told, curious what he was doing. He frowned when he watched Graves rummage in his bag and then he was pulling the camera out and setting it on his desk. Then, he came over and helped Rodolfo pose and Rodolfo found himself blushing darker as he realized Graves was posing him like the painting.

He held the pose, keeping his face neutral like the painting, and then he looked at Graves, managing not to flinch at the flash. When it was done, Graves took the picture and held it, coming over. “Did you know that you didn’t need to shake old polaroids?” Graves asked when he came over.

Rodolfo frowned. “No, I guess I didn’t… I um… I’m only 20. I didn’t… own a polaroid camera.” He winced, waiting for the typical comments that millennials and really anyone over the age of 30 made towards anyone under the age of 25.

“Makes sense. They became pretty much obsolete by the time you would have been getting a camera. This polaroid snap is pretty good, I like the specifications.” Graves smiled and then held out the picture.

Rodolfo blinked at his words and then relaxed. Of course Graves wouldn’t make those comments, he was too mature for that. He smiled and took the picture, looking at it. The picture made him realize just how similar he looked to the royal, touching over their faces. Well, he already knew, but it was still just uncanny. “Thank you…”

“Of course.” Graves nodded and then Rodolfo was jumping at another flash. “This one will be mine.” He chuckled, taking the picture and then handing Rodolfo the camera back. “You looked too darling, I had to.”

Oh, Rodolfo’s skin turned dark red from that statement. He had to look away as he took the camera back, again thanking Graves. He went to his bag and put the camera in it, as well as tucking the picture in a pocket.

“You know… I was thinking.” Graves came over, wrapping his arms around Rodolfo’s waist from behind. Rodolfo melted as Graves kissed the back of his neck, closing his eyes. “I should take you out. The museum is great and all but… I’d really like to take you out. I know this bar…”

“I’m 20.” Rodolfo reminded, shivering as Graves lightly nipped at the back of his neck, before turning around in his arms. “My ID says I’m 20.”

“Don’t worry about that.” Graves shook his head. “They’ll let you in. As long as you’re with me… They’ll let you in.”

Rodolfo blushed. “You’re not going to be responsible and keep me from drinking?” He teased, though he didn’t care. Rodolfo had drank before. He’d drank a lot before…

“You won’t be drinking.” Graves laughed. “Neither will I, likely. The food is good and it’s a little more classy than the typical bar. Only a little. How does that sound?”

Rodolfo paused and then smiled. Of course he’d go. “Yeah.. I like that. When?”

“Friday?” Graves asked and Rodolfo nodded. “Perfect! I’ll text you when I’ll be picking you up.” He kissed Rodolfo’s cheek before letting him go. “I look forward to it.”

“Me too…” Rodolfo melted and then waved before grabbing his bag and leaving.

Rodolfo was hanging out with Gaz, his other friend. Why? Well, Soap had blown him off again for Ghost. He could only imagine what they were doing. “So…” Gaz said as he took his hair down out of the towel he was using. Gaz had used Rodolfo’s shower, since his was apparently broken. “Soap told me you were with Professor Graves on Friday.”

“Of fucking course he did.” Rodolfo muttered, already irritated. “Look, if you’re here to judge me-”

“I’m not.” Gaz assured, sitting on the other side of the coffee table and taking a bite of the pizza he’d brought over for them. “Actually, I think it’s great. Gets you away from Alejandro.”

Neither Gaz nor Alex, Gaz’s boyfriend, seemed to like Alejandro much. Of course… neither would give Rodolfo a straight answer on why. Even before he and Alejandro had started to distance, they just didn’t seem to like him. It was odd, but Rodolfo had given up on trying to find out why. “Well… No. Because Alejandro and I hung out on Saturday.”

“Ah.” Gaz frowned and then went quiet, looking down at his pizza for a moment. “Well… Are you going to go fully back to Alejandro?”

Rodolfo winced. He didn’t know. “I… Have a date, I think, with Professor Graves this Friday.” He paused when his phone buzzed, blushing when he saw it was Alejandro, who’d sent him a picture of a flier for a concert on Saturday. A candlelit symphony. He melted when Alejandro sent a Want to go? And immediately sent back that he would. “And a date with Alejandro on Saturday.” He smiled and showed Gaz the picture.

“That’s sweet.” Gaz nodded and furrowed his brows. “So… You’re going to go out with both?”

“One or both will lose interest in me, eventually.” Rodolfo shrugged, not really that concerned about it, at the moment. “So… I’m enjoying it while I have it.”

“I see.” Gaz nodded, frowning again. “I… I’m happy for you. I’m glad you seem to be getting some attention. You need it, mate.” He smiled at Rodolfo and touched his hand before sighing. “Why did Soap blow you off again?”

Rodolfo hesitated before sighing. Gaz and Soap seemed to be getting along less and less. It started with Gaz getting with Alex and then Soap got with Ghost and… neither of them hung out unless Rodolfo suggested something. Even there, it was tense the whole time. “Ghost. He’s busy with, you know, being a rockstar. So… I don’t know.”

“Of course he is.” Gaz rolled his eyes. “That sucks, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Rodolfo smiled. “It means I get to hang out with you.”

“That’s true.” Gaz nodded, grinning. “And I like hanging out with you.”

Rodolfo relaxed, nodding. “I like hanging out with you, too. How are Alex and Farah? Well, and Malika.”

“They’re great!” Gaz perked up. “Though, Farah and Malika are honestly kind of gross. Farah always has her in her lap and they are constantly touching! Not in any sexual way, but if Malika gets within five feet of Farah, Farah just has to start touching her and grabbing her.”

Rodolfo laughed, loudly, since he remembered Alex and Gaz being the exact same way when they got together the year before. Alex constantly had his hands on Gaz and Rodolfo remembered he and Soap teased Gaz about it, endlessly. “Reminds me of someone.”

“Hey, we weren’t this bad.” Gaz blushed. “Or… I don’t remember us being this bad.”

Rodolfo rolled his eyes, since they had, indeed, been that bad. “Sure.” He pat Gaz’s arm and then put his elbow on the table. “And Alex has been doing okay?”

“Yep! Better than okay.” Gaz nodded and melted. “He’s perfect. I love him so much… We’re already at a year and I feel like we still just started dating.”

“I’m glad to see those rose colored glasses still haven’t came off, then.” Rodolfo nodded, really happy for his friend. Alex was a really great guy and Gaz deserved that. “Hey, do you think you could come over and help me dress for this date on Friday?”

“Of course.” Gaz beamed. “Why not ask Soap, though?”

“He’s going to flip his shit if I tell him!” Rodolfo immediately said. “Besides, he’s busy this Friday. All week, in fact. I’ll barely see him.”

“Good.” Gaz muttered, sighing. “It’s none of his business who you date.”

Rodolfo definitely agreed. He shook his head and looked down at his plate, tracing the edge of it. He didn’t understand why Soap was judging him so hard. “No, Rudy, look at me.” Rodolfo looked up, startled. Gaz’s expression was intense. “I mean it. It is none of his business. He, of all people, should not be judging who you choose to date. Got it?”

Rodolfo frowned but nodded. “Yeah… I got it.” He blushed, confused why Gaz was suddenly so intense. “I mean, besides Ghost-”

“Ghost is the reason.” Gaz groaned. “He… runs with a really bad crowd, is all I will say. And Soap knew before he started to date him that he did. Don’t let him tell you otherwise.”

Rodolfo blushed but nodded. “Okay…” He frowned more, now even more confused. Why hadn’t Soap ever told him that? But, he shrugged it off and got up. “Want to see what Graves gave me?”

“Sure!” Gaz smiled, seeming to relax a bit.

Rodolfo went to his wardrobe, which had been issued by the college, and opened it, looking for the blue jewelry boxes and frowning when he couldn’t find them. Odd… He’d put them in there… He looked through his drawers before suddenly getting a hunch.

Oh, he’d fucking kill him.

Rodolfo went to Soap’s wardrobe, looking in the bottom drawer, and then making an irritated sound when he found the jewelry boxes. He took a picture of them and sent it to Soap. You’re stealing my shit, now? That’s fucking petty.

The message was read pretty much immediately, but Soap didn’t reply. Rodolfo took the boxes out of the drawer and came over, sitting down at the coffee table again and making a frustrated sound as he showed Gaz. “I can’t fucking believe him!”

“I can.” Gaz rolled his eyes. “He’s self righteous, probably thought he was doing it to protect you.”

“Fuck him.” Rodolfo shook his head but opened the jewelry boxes so Gaz could see, relaxing at seeing the jewelry pieces were still intact. “They’re a bit too fancy for Friday but… I love them.”

“But… not for Saturday…” Gaz grinned. “You should wear them that day.”

“No, that feels- No. That feels wrong.” Rodolfo’s face flamed bright red. “I wouldn’t do that to Alejandro.”

“Would Alejandro know unless you told him?” Gaz tilted his head. “Does he even know you’re seeing Professor Graves?”

Rodolfo paused and looked at the pieces, touching over the earrings and necklace. He would really like to wear them… “Fuck, I don’t have clothes for Saturday, either. I don’t… know how to dress elegant like the symphony wants.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I do. Alex takes me on those kinds of dates all the time.” Gaz waved his hand. It made sense, Gaz and Alex were both loaded from family money. Adopted family money, but family money all the same. Gaz’s father, John Price, and Alex’s moms all three co-owned several very successful businesses.

Well, Alex and Farah’s moms. It was… complicated.

“Oh. Well… I don’t think I own anything like that.” Rodolfo frowned.

Gaz laughed. “That’s fine! I’ll take you shopping! I’ll even pay for it, as long as you let me pick what you wear!”

Rodolfo blushed dark. “But it’s a date with Alejandro…”

“You’re my friend. I’m not going to let you have a shit date, even if I maybe don’t like the partner.” Gaz shook his head. “I’m not Soap.”

“I don’t think Soap would do that, either…” Rodolfo frowned before wincing when Gaz just gestured to the jewelry. “Do you think you could keep them in your dorm? Just… for now.”

“Of course.” Gaz nodded and smiled. “They might encourage Alex to get me my own pieces.” He joked, holding the necklace up to his skin.

“I think emerald would be better.” Rodolfo remarked, but he smiled.

“I think you might be right.” Gaz agreed and put the necklace back, being ginger with it. “Let’s go on Thursday! I can help you find an outfit for Friday as well! Since I doubt you have much for a bar.”

“I do not.” Rodolfo agreed. Even if it was meant to be a bit classier… He didn’t think he’d have anything for it. “Alright. Thursday. I like that… Hey, maybe you can bring Malika and I can get to meet her!”

“Perfect!” Gaz smiled. “Thursday.”

Rodolfo’s Tuesday and Wednesday were uneventful. Graves ended up canceling class on Wednesday and while Alejandro texted him plenty, neither of them had a schedule that really allowed for them to randomly hang out. Plus, whatever had Ghost super busy apparently had Alejandro busy as well.

Whatever.

So, when Thursday rolled around, Rodolfo was very happy to go and pick up Gaz and Malika. Gaz had decided on the shopping mall, since there were some stores that he knew would have clothes. Which is where they were, now.

Malika was a sweet omega, following Gaz closely. She and Rodolfo had already had a brief conversation about their classes and Rodolfo found that she was fairly intelligent, if not a bit clueless. Gaz informed him that it was because she had had a rough childhood, so Rodolfo decided not to ask about it.

Now, he was watching Gaz look through clothing on a rack in a store that sold “Elegance Wear” for omegas. There wasn’t honestly much difference in how male omegas and female omegas dressed. It mostly had to do with their secondary sex characteristics. Seeing as female omegas had breasts and male omegas had dicks.

Female alphas and male alphas honestly differed more. It was a bit more socially acceptable for female alphas to be feminine, so they could wear dresses, though more and more opted not to.

In this store, clothing made to fit male omegas had an M next to the size and those for females had an F. Rodolfo was a 16M, for instance, but Malika was apparently a 14F. Apparently Alpha clothing sizes were a bit more complicated, which Rodolfo didn’t get why. But, he wasn’t going to bother questioning it.

Clothing that could be a bit more neutrally worn just dropped the M and F. Most clothes in a walmart, for instance, would just be a size and that was it. And, seeing as female omegas rarely wore the underwired bra that female alphas did, apparently their bras were a bit less complicated to size as well.

Alphas had to play games with their sizing, too, apparently.

Well, Rodolfo did suppose it could be important to them, since size used to be a huge thing for alphas. Not so much, anymore, but it had lingered. Bigger alphas were definitely respected a bit more. Just like smaller omegas were often seen as more desirable.

“Rodolfo-”

Rodolfo’s head whipped up and he blushed, seeing Gaz and Malika were both looking at him. “Yeah?”

“Have you paid attention to a bloody word I was saying??” Gaz huffed, crossing his arms.

Rodolfo winced, since he hadn’t even been aware Gaz was talking. “No…” He admitted, going over to him and seeing that Malika was holding two outfits. A blood red velvet dress, which had a black blazer over it, and a the other was an outfit with black pants, a black corset blouse, and the same black blazer.

“Which do you prefer?” Gaz gestured between the two of them, leaning against the rack. Apparently, Gaz used to be a bit of a nerd in high school, but… well, status was everything. The name Kyle Price said a lot, and it didn’t say dorky nerd. According to Gaz.

Rodolfo looked between the two of them, considering. “Um… I kind of like the dress.” Admittedly, he was thinking of the painting, since the Royal had been wearing a dress that looked close to red velvet in it.

This one had the same off the shoulder neckline, which was the most common style that male omegas wore. It didn’t look weird with a flat chest. “I like it.”

“I do, too. I really think it’ll match that jewelry.” Gaz smiled. He’d had Rodolfo send him pictures of it and so he held it up, asking Malika what she thought.

“Hmm…” Malika tilted her head. “I think the gold really goes with the dress, but I’m not liking the blazer… What about cream?”

“No, cream would be too vintage.” Gaz shook his head.

Rodolfo made a face. Right. Malika’s major, which Rodolfo had yet to actually hear, apparently had something to do with fashion. Rodolfo’s major did not.

Malika seemed to agree, looking around. “Well, he can’t go without something over it, it’s going to be 50 degrees and there is no sleeve. I mean… if he does go, Alejandro may offer his jacket.”

“Yeah, we can’t have that.” Gaz snorted, putting the jacket back on the rack. “I’m giving him Rudy in this dress, I’m not going to give him that much.”

Malika continued to look around before leaving and coming back with a white shawl. It was also velvet, though a much fluffier velvet, and it had a place that one could use a broach, though Rodolfo didn’t own a broach. “I like it.” Gaz nodded, putting it over the dress. “Very elegant.”

Rodolfo was starting to worry it was too elegant. “I’ll be overdressed.”

“The event is black tie.” Gaz waved him off, starting to walk over to the shoe section. “I’m more worried about you being underdressed.”

“How do you know that??” Rodolfo followed him over. “I doubt it’s black tie, Alejandro doesn’t like those kinds of events.” Huh, Graves was taking him to a bar and Alejandro was taking him to a symphony that was supposedly black tie… Weird. It felt like it should be the opposite.

“Because I searched for the event. Don’t worry, Alejandro planned to tell you, I yelled at him over it.” Gaz’s tone was like he was reading off a manual. “He forgot. However, he confirmed it’s black tie.”

Rodolfo was more surprised that Gaz had bothered to speak to Alejandro than he was that Alejandro was going to a black tie event. But, he didn’t say anything, watching Malika and Gaz pick over the shoe section. When they seemed to find acceptable shoes, he shook his head. “Can I see how much everything costs?”

He wasn’t surprised when Gaz just laughed.

They went up to the counter and Gaz smiled at the cashier. “My boyfriend called up earlier. Alex Keller? He opened a tab.”

The cashier nodded. “Yes, he did, I can see it. Can you give me the last four of the card?”

Gaz gave it and then put the clothes on the counter. Rodolfo rolled his eyes. Gaz could afford everything, himself, but Alex was a bit more traditional in that he believed an alpha should spoil their partner. Granted, Rodolfo was a bit more traditional than both of them, but as such, Gaz rarely paid for anything.

Soap had always joked ‘if it’s not Daddy’s money, it’s Daddy’s money.’ Of course, he meant that joke in a mean way, but Gaz had just let it roll off himself and laughed about it. (Soap was again one to talk since Ghost paid for damn near everything for him. Ghost was paying his college tuition, Gaz was paying his own.)

Rodolfo then followed Gaz out. “Okay, that’s one outfit. What about the other?” He went to take the bag, but Gaz didn’t let him. Whatever.

“We’re just going to go to a simple store for that one.” Gaz said. Malika caught up to them and she ended up taking the bag, dropping something inside. “Obviously, you don’t need Elegant Wear for a bar.”

Rodolfo agreed and they went into a clothing boutique that Rodolfo did not think he’d be able to afford on his own, but which seemed to have much more casual clothing. He liked the style, looking around. Already, though, it appeared Gaz and Malika were building an outfit.

Black jeans, which Rodolfo preferred, though they appeared to be skinny jeans. Then, a white button down. Black tennis shoes, too. “It’s simple, he can wear the components anywhere else, I like it.” Malika nodded.

“What do you think?” Gaz looked at Rodolfo.

Rodolfo shrugged. They were clothes. “I like them. I think I have all of the components of that in my dorm.”

“Yeah, so? New clothes.” Gaz shook the hangers.

Rodolfo rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, new clothes.” He chuckled, amused by the two. He went over, noting that the clothing was a bit nicer than whatever he owned. The jeans had a soft, almost velvet feel and the material seemed to have a bit more give. The shirt was a lot lighter of a material and Rodolfo did finally notice that it was tied in the front. “I like it.”

“Perfect! Well, that was easier than I expected.” Gaz went up and paid for everything before coming back. “Alright, I’m starving, let’s go eat.”

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