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silentglassbreak · 3 months

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The plot with Jolly at the fest sound like very interesting story. I'd love to read it

I didn't get too much detail on this one, so I'm just going to run with it? First time writing for Jolly, so let's give it a shot.

**After writing notes: WOW this one went in an entirely different direction than I expected...

It just happened. I hope someone enjoys it. LOL.

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Soft smut, mentions of death

Sweater Weather

Why does no one ever have the balls to tell Noah he’s being a diva?

Listen, the man is my brother. We’re family. För alltid mitt blod. I would take a bullet for him, and I have no doubt he would do the same for me.

But, sometimes, he’s so fucking irritating.

How hard it must be to have such talent and be so attractive, everyone loves you, and you work hard to maintain an image. However, taking out the stress and pressures on the only guys who also know how being in this band feels?

Noah was arguing with one of the stage techs, telling him that the image they had prepared to be behind us doing our set was wrong. He’s right, they had prepared the image of the mannequins, when it was supposed to be the album cover, but that wasn’t this poor little man’s fault.

“God, it’s not a hard fucking thing to do!”

“I’m sorry, dude. I’m putting in the request to have it switched.” The man wasn’t exactly cowering, but he was intimidated for sure.

I stepped up behind Noah, letting a gentle hand fall on his shoulder. I could feel his muscles relax slightly under my fingers.

“C’mon man. It’ll be fine. We have an hour until our set. They’ll get it fixed.”

I felt him take a deep breath, and saw how he closed his eyes to center himself. This was something I taught him.

The tech scurried away, leaving us alone in our tent.

It was so fucking hot, which was interesting, given we were in Michigan. Upheaval festival was one of my favorites. It was a smaller event, which meant a more regular experience with the fans. Usually, it also meant better food and beer vendors.

“Hey, guess what I found?” Nick came bounding into the tent, a large mug in his hand.

“Beer, I assume?” Noah pointed his attitude at Nick, who rolled his eyes in return.

“They have a beer garden! Jolly, they’ve got a Swedish ale you might dig!”

I snorted. “Guarantee it isn’t actually Swedish.” Grabbing my hat from the couch, I placed it over my long hair that was pulled back in a low ponytail, and headed for the exit.

“I will go check it out though. Folio out there?”

Nick nodded. “He was spotted, so he’s chatting with some fans.”

I smirked. “Let’s hope he can get out before the set.”

Noah turned and looked at me. “Don’t be late getting back, please! We go on in under an hour.”

Shooting him a thumbs up, I headed for the mayhem of the festival.

As suspected, there was nothing Swedish about the beer, but it did have good flavor. I stood to the right of the beer garden, sipping my mug, and people watched.

It was always so fascinating to see the mix of people who came to these shows. European festivals were one thing but American festivals? You saw everything from multi-colored hair to breasts only barely covered by mesh tops or pasties. It was a sight to behold.

After a moment of zoning out, I looked down at my watch to see I still had twenty minutes before we had to head to the stage. Noah was likely bursting because I wasn’t back yet, and I smiled to myself at the thought. He could sweat for a few minutes, would do him good.

Deciding I should at least start making my way back there, my eyes scanned for the direction I needed to go, somehow getting turned around. Eyes searching over heads and bodies, I didn’t even see the person coming toward me, knocking my shoulder directly into them as I began walking forward.

My beer sloshed over the edge of the cup, pouring foam down the girl’s arm.

“Fuck! I am so sorry!” I turned, and my eyes locked onto the face in front of me.

Wisps of natural, dirty blonde hair floated in the slight breeze, framing a tan, small face. The rest of her hair was pulled up on top of her head in a bun, tightly secured. Her eyes were lightly lined with black, mascara clinging to her lashes. Pink, full lips covered by only a thin gloss were hanging open, startled by the cold liquid on her shoulder.

“Shit! I didn’t even see you, I’m so sorry!” She apologized, wiping her arm with the sweater tied around her waist. Her white tank top was now an amber color on one side.

I couldn’t speak. She was gorgeous.

“Jesus, I’m such a fucking klutz.” She groaned, hastily grabbing napkins off of the cart behind us and wiping at her arm, and then at my hand.

When her ice blue eyes looked up at me, I felt the air rush back into my lungs.

“No, no that was my fault. I’m very sorry.”

When the realization crossed her face, I saw it like a firework exploding behind her vision.

“You’re Jolly fucking Karlsson!”

This made me chuckle. “Something like that, yeah.”

I reached a hand out, which she took graciously, smiling at me with a wide, toothy grin.

“It’s such an honor. I’m a huge fan. I was actually rushing so I could get back to see your set!”

Her words snapped me back.

Fuck.

“Oh, good! I’ve got to get over there! But, uh,” My brain was working overtime. “maybe I can find you after? You can buy me another beer?”

I let any suave I had take over, which seemed to work decently, given she blinked multiple times.

“Sure, of course!”

“Jolly!” My head snapped over to see Matt barreling toward me. “Dude we go on in ten minutes!”

Looking back, I watched as her face fell slightly, my arm now being physically pulled in the opposite direction. Being led away, I hollered.

“I’ll meet you back here!”

I was only given a nod, and a wave in response.

The set was electric, Noah's earlier nerves rolling off of him comfortably as he put on a show. Nick was absolutely flawless on his bass, flipping his hair over and over. Folio, as usual, lost himself in the drum beats, freestyling here and there.

I, however, was way off my game. Something about my encounter with the mesmerizing blonde earlier kept me thoroughly distracted. Over and over, my eyes swam through the sea of people in the crowd, trying my hardest to find a blonde messy bun and steel blue eyes, but it was in vain. I couldn't see anything.

I thought about her again and again, unable to shake the feeling of wonder from my bones. For whatever reason, I needed to see this girl again. Her aura, her energy, it radiated beauty, rarity, like a gemstone.

Pärla. A magnificent treasure.

The thoughts racing in my brain made me lose my focus more than once. During Nowhere to Go, I missed several notes, my guitar making an awful screeching sound. I forgot to sing backup vocals during Limits entirely, earning me a glare from Noah, and a look of concern from Nick.

I had ignored it, and continued on, my eyes still searching. It was hopeless. I would find her after. I had to.

Once Dethrone concluded, and I ran off stage, setting my guitar down, I felt a hand pull my arm, flinging my backward.

"Dude, are you okay?" Nick looked straight at me. "You drunk?"

I furrowed my brow. "Of course not."

"Well, you don't really fuck up on stage, Jolly, so what the fuck?" Noah was standing directly behind Nick, eyes shooting me down with fury.

I shrugged. "I'm sorry. I was looking for someone."

This made them both leer backward a moment. "Who?" Noah asked.

"This girl. I met her at the beer garden."

They reacted equally differently. Nick let up a sly smirk, his eyebrows raising. Noah, however, narrowed his eyes.

"You almost blew the set for some broad?"

Rolling my eyes, I turned toward them. "I didn't blow the fucking set, Noah. Quit being so dramatic."

I could see the fire burning behind his irises, which I would definitely pay for later in the form of his attitude.

"Are you fucking kidding, dude?" Noah began scolding me, but Nick held up a hand.

"Chill. Jolly never fucks up, ever." He turned to Noah, giving him stern eyes. "And the set was fine."

Huffing, Noah stomped away, throwing a tantrum like a child.

I smiled at Nick, grateful. "You know how he gets at festivals."

Nodding, I began to walk away. "Got to go."

Waving him off, I weaved through all of the people behind the stage area, making my way back out to our tent, where Davis and Matt were already packing up equipment. I grabbed a clean shirt out of my backpack, and slipped it over my head. I pulled half of my hair up in a tight bun on top of my head, and slipped on my sunglasses.

Headed back out, I noticed the sun was nearly set, and the beer garden area was almost vacant, most people over by the stages. Sleep Token had just started, so the vendors were long abandoned by almost everyone.

I found the napkin cart, and stood, arms crossed, scanning around. After about ten minutes, I had to remove my sunglasses to be able to see clearly as night was falling. A chill ran up my spine as the temperature began to drop. No sign of her, but I didn't mind waiting.

Thirty minutes.

Forty-five.

One hour.

I stood, eyes glancing around, head bobbing to Sleep Token's heavy bass and Vessel's incredible vocals. However, my mind was elsewhere. Maybe she didn't want to miss their set? Maybe she forgot where to meet? I didn't know how to find her.

I didn't even know her name.

It was a mystery, and I couldn't get it out of my head. I was going to have to give up soon. The festival would be ending, and I would have to get back with the guys, head back to the hotel. The thought made my stomach sink. Why was I so entranced with the idea of this girl? All she did was spill beer on me. Why did I insist on finding her?

"Jolly?"

I spun, much faster than I should've, on my heel, and was met with cold, freezing blue eyes, staring up at me. Her gloss was worn off, and her eyeliner was smudging ever so slightly under her eyes. Her bun was long gone, blonde hair now free-flowing down across her shoulders.

"Pärla."

Her smile was confused. "Uh,"

"It means gem. I didn't know your name, so I decided to go with that."

The blush on her cheeks was a sweet addition to that gorgeous sun kissed skin.

"I like that." She rubbed her palms on the front of her jeans. I noticed her sweater was now around her shoulders, covering the beer stain on her tank top. "I'm sorry, I know we said we'd meet after your set. I had to get one of my friends back to our hotel."

Shaking my head, I waved her off. "No worries."

"Did you wait long?"

An hour wasn't a long time, I don't think.

"Nope."

With a finger pointed at the beer garden, she asked, "So, you want that beer?"

I perused this. I wasn't much for a drink right now, comfortable with just talking to her. "You going to have one?"

Shrugging, she looked over toward the crowd. "I don't think so. I've got to get back to the hotel with my friends soon. One of them is really drunk, and is a sick mess."

My face soured. "That doesn't sound fun."

Scrunching her face, she stuck her hands in the pocket of her sweater. "It isn't. I'm pretty annoyed about it, actually."

Nodding, I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. I had been ignoring it for a while.

Matt: Dude, if you're coming with us, we gotta go now.

I typed a quick response.

Me: Meet you back at the hotel.

We walked around the festival grounds for a while, just chatting about different things, somehow managing to distract her from the fact that she should go back to her hotel, and I, mine.

"You're from Florida?"

She nodded. "Daytona. I hate it."

"Why? Isn't it sunny and beautiful all year-round?" I chuckled.

She joined me. "Sure, if you like a lot of drugs and alligators everywhere."

We found some benches, having a seat. I pulled a pack of smokes from my pocket, lighting one.

She stared at me, smirking. I lifted the pack toward her. "Want one?"

She shook her head. "I'm okay. Thanks, though."

Blowing out the smoke, I turned my attention back to her face.

"So why come to Michigan for a festival?"

Her eyes were lost on the crowd, amused. "Why not?" She leaned back on her seat. "I love the adventure of traveling. Seeing different cities. If I get to enjoy good music while I'm at it, why not?"

"You get to meet a lot of cool people doing it, huh?"

Looking over to me, I saw her lips turn up slightly. "Yeah, I do."

A cool silence fell over us for a moment while I finished my cigarette.

Out of my peripheral vision, I saw her head turn toward me. "It's closing."

We noticed the bodies moving past us toward the exit. I nodded. "We should get going soon."

I swore I saw a flash of disappointment cross her features, but only for a second before a look of excitement crept across her face.

"Hey, you want to go somewhere?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Where?"

Smirking, she stood, pulling at my arm. "I know a place, c'mon."

With no time to protest, she pulled me, and I had to nearly jog to keep up. I watched her hair, looking nearly silver against the bright lights at the parking area, fly behind her as she ran toward the Uber line.

We waited, and I slipped my sunglasses back on, and tried not to be obvious.

Once our turn came, she leaned forward to give the driver the address, quiet enough so I wouldn't hear. The driver raised a brow.

"I'm pretty sure it's closed for the night."

She waved at him. "Just go. It'll be fine."

With a nod, he began driving. I stared at her. "Are you taking me somewhere to kill me?"

Her teeth flashed. "You'll have to wait and find out." And she turned to look out at the darkness beyond her window.

Something inside me wasn't worried.

We walked along the boardwalk, out onto the sand. We could hear the soft waves crashing, but it was difficult to see beyond she shoreline.

"Welcome to Lake Michigan!"

The stars, bright and vast, seemed to bounce off of the stillness of the water. It was breathtaking. She bound ahead of me, slipping her shoes off and holding them. Her eyes were fixed on the water, before she dropped down in the sand, looking up at the sky.

I followed suit, taking a heavy seat next to her. It was so quiet, so calm. We weren't supposed to be here at midnight, but something in the chilled air felt so serene.

"What did you call me before?" Her voice was even, still looking at the sky.

"Hm?" I had to shake out of my thoughts.

"At the festival. You called me a name. In another language."

I smiled. "Pärla." She looked back at me. "It means gem."

A warm grin spread across her lips. "I like that." She echoed her earlier sentiment.

It occurred to me at that point, that she still had not told me her first name.

"What else do I call you?"

Her eyes narrowed, thinking. What was there to think about?

"I think that'll do."

I raised an eyebrow. "What?"

Her gaze turned back up to the sky. "Pärla. That's good."

"You're not going to tell me your name?" Confusion laced my voice.

Hugging her knees to her chest, her eyes transfixed on the stars, she bit her lip. "Not yet."

It was strange, but what could I do?

Silence fell over us again, but she eventually spoke up.

"Do you ever miss Sweden?"

Clearing my throat, I mimicked her body language, pulling my knees up.

"Sometimes. It's my home."

Her lips were pulled in a tight line, and I saw what looked to be a tear brimming at her eyes. "I never miss mine. I'm never going back."

"Why not?"

Turning to look at me, a slow tear rolled down her cheek, but she held a sad smile. "I'm happy right where I am."

Trying to process what she said, I struggled, because all I could feel was the urge to grab the tear with my finger, and wipe it from her face. I kept my hands to myself, however.

"So," I tried to lighten the conversation. "how long have you been a fan?"

This made a genuine grin crack across her face. "About a year. I heard you guys for the first time on TikTok. When I looked into the music, I was hooked."

I nodded, listening to the smooth sounds of the waves. "Yeah, that's how a lot of people found us."

"It's good music. I really enjoyed the new album."

"Yeah, it was fun to make."

She looked directly at me. "Do you like being in a band? What's it like?"

That made me huff out a laugh. "It's something else, that's for sure. Chaotic, at times. Rewarding, most others."

Amused, she crossed her legs under her and turned her body to face me. "What are the other guys like?" I raised a brow and she smiled sheepishly. "I'm not trying to fangirl, just curious."

Shaking my head, I turned to face her as well. "Nick is awesome. Mediator when things get tense. He tends to keep a cool head easier than the rest of us." I sighed. "Folio is...young. He's so lighthearted, and full of life. I envy that sometimes." She smiled at that.

"And Noah is..." I trailed off, choosing my words carefully. "Brilliant, but can be a lot sometimes."

"Like how?"

"Like," I intertwined my fingers. "he gets anxious. He's a perfectionist, so there's never room for error. It can be a pain in the ass, but we owe a lot of our success to it."

She nodded. "He's talented."

"Very. So, we put up with it, mostly."

Peering up at me from under her lashes, she spoke low. "And what about you, Jolly? What are you like?"

This gave me pause. How do I answer that?

"I'm..." I really had to think about that answer. "I don't know, really. I'm just, me? The guys call me the 'Dad' of the group, but I'm really only a few years older than Nick."

A hand slid over my knee, and I glanced down at it. "Well, I don't know you very well. Only from what time we've spent the last few hours, but I think you're very interesting."

Resting my chin on a fist, I considered her words. "Do you?"

"Yeah, I do. I think you're very sweet. And complex."

"Complex?"

She let out a giggle, which broke the quiet air with a sweet sound.

"Well, you got in an Uber with a complete stranger, without knowing where you're going, and now you're sitting on a beach in the middle of the night."

This made me smirk. "Point taken."

"That's shows adventure. I like it."

I focused on the ring piercing her left nostril, and the small batch of freckles on her nose. Her hair was hanging long, the moonlight illuminating it.

I felt the pull, the same one that brings the planets together. The pull that gravity is made of. Her eyes flashed back and forth between mine, and her lips parted so slightly. Instinctively, I leaned close to her until I could feel her breath against my face. It was cool, almost cold.

When the soft skin of her lips touched mine, she took a breath in, gasping.

My hand lifted to press against her cheek, pulling her closer, and pressing our lips together.

Like a lightning bolt struck the sand between us, we were lit up with energy. Her body lunged toward me, knees climbing up into my lap as she kissed me, tongue pressing into my mouth. My hands wrapped around to her back, pulling her into me, as she writhed against me.

Her hips pressed down, jeans grinding against mine, the lack of friction making it nearly unbearable. My lips kissed down to her neck, sucking and biting at the soft skin. Her hair had fallen over her face, eyes fluttered closed. Her fingers were grazing down my chest, pulling at the fabric of my t-shirt, and eventually landing to the button of my jeans.

My own hands located the access point of her pants, popping them open. Disconnecting for a moment, she pulled back to shimmy out of her jeans, leaving her in a pair of black panties, kneeling in the sand in front of me.

Staring directly into my eyes, she reached to my jeans and opened them effortlessly, unzipping them, my aching cock bulging against the fabric of my boxers. Her hand slipped to the waistband, freeing my erection. I stared at her with intent. Something in her eyes was dark, something I couldn't place.

"Do you want to?" Her voice was so small. So desperate.

I couldn't respond, so I only reached for her, pulling her face back to me. I laid her down on her back, leaning over her and letting my mouth mold over hers, one hand slipping down her stomach, to her core.

My fingers easily grazed past the elastic of the underwear, running through the soft patch of curls just underneath, until I felt the moisture of her lips between my fingers.

She moaned into my mouth as I slipped my middle finger inside of her, curling it to press against that soft, sweet spot that had her breathing erratic.

"Fuck." She breathed against my mouth. My hand was pumping her hard, a delicious wet sound nearly drowned out by the waves behind us.

"I don't have a condom on me, Pärla."

Her eyes snapped open, and she smiled. "I'm okay, if you are."

Morals? Rational thought? Responsibility? What is that?

I was okay. More than okay. This could be bad. Dangerous, even. Something in my gut - no - my soul told me that this needed to happen, and it needed to happen now.

Steady fingers pulled her panties down, slipping them off, before I hovered over her, lining the head up with her entrance.

As slow and precise as possible, I pressed in, my eyes falling closed with the vibrant sensation that engulfed me. She let out a long, deep groan with me.

"Oh God, Jolly."

I let my lips fall back down to the flesh on her neck, thrusting in and out comfortably, savoring the feel of her on my skin.

We went on like this for longer than I would've expected. Our voices echoed off of the water, the darkness swallowing us as our bodies synchronized. Her pussy tightened around me each time I pulled out, begging for more.

Eventually, I sped up the snapping of my hips, leaning up to get a better angle, pulling her knee up to her chest.

Her hands dug into the sand around us, head careened backward.

"Oh Jolly, fuck, so fucking good." She was biting down on her lip so hard, it was sure to bleed.

I was so close. I needed her release. "Come for me, Pärla." My breathing began stuttering. "Let go, for me."

A long, visceral moan left her lips, and I felt her walls spasm around me as I began emptying into her, my orgasm smacking me hard in the chest.

I pumped us through it, one hand holding her face, watching the waves of pleasure rush over it.

Once we slowed to a stop, I collapsed next to her, a lazy smile on my face.

"That was..." I started, too tired to finish my sentence.

"Unreal." Her words were stark. Matter of fact. Her eyes were looking back up at the stars.

I followed suit, zipping my jeans back up.

"I'm glad I met you today, Jolly."

I let my eyes fall on her again, and smiled. "Me too, Pärla."

My eyes opened to a flashlight shining directly on them.

"Hey, asshole!" I squinted, my hands coming up to shield my vision from the abrasive light. "You can't fucking sleep here. Go find a fucking shelter!"

"What?" I sat up, looking up at the person in front of me. A police officer.

"You've got to get out of here, man. I don't want to take you in."

I held my hands up in defense, standing to my feet. My eyes glanced around, realizing I was very much alone.

"Where's the girl I was with?"

The cop raised an eyebrow. "No one but you here, bud. Let's go."

His hand grabbed my arm, leading me off the beach. I turned back toward the water, hollering out into the darkness.

"Pärla?!"

No response. Just silence.

A week had gone by, and I was back home.

I had done everything I could think of to find her, but still came up with nothing. No name. No number. Just a physical description and vague location. Have you any idea how many blonde-haired, blue-eyed, tan-skinned girls are in Daytona, FL? It was comical.

After about four days, I had pretty much given up. Part of me felt hurt. Why had she left? Was she okay? She knew me, why hadn't she reached out?

Was she just in it for the sex? Or to say she screwed a member of the band? Did she regret it?

Something felt wrong. Her presence, her energy. It felt so genuine. I struggled to believe she really just ran off, leaving me to fall asleep alone on that beach.

I had Ubered back to the hotel, heading straight to Noah's room to tell him what happened. It was 4AM by the time I made it back, and he looked at me like I was insane.

Still, he showed his human side for a moment, and empathized with me, offering to help try and find her.

Back in Los Angeles, I was sitting in the studio, trying to perfect a guitar rift, when Noah bounded in with Folio. We had everyone together for the next two weeks before we left for the next festival.

"I don't get why people are so scummy."

I raised an eyebrow at Folio's words. "What's that?"

He turned to look at me, falling into a chair. "This article, man. About Upheaval?"

I stopped my strumming, looking up to give him my full attention.

I took note that Noah was scrolling on his phone fervently.

"What about it?"

Noah looked up at me, pursing his lips. "I guess someone got really hurt?"

"Not hurt. Someone fucking died, dude."

This made me furrow my brows. "What?"

"Yeah. Some girl got trampled in the fucking crowd."

Noah rolled his eyes. "The article I read said she had a seizure, and fell into the crowd. They didn't get her out in time."

"During which set?"

"Sleep Token." Noah responded.

"Wow, really? I saw damn near the entire thing. I didn't see anything happen."

"Well, that's the point, man. No one did, until the end. By that time, she had choked or something." Noah handed his phone to me, and I noticed it was scrolled to the bottom of the article.

"It's bullshit they waited so long to say something." Folio chimed in.

Noah shrugged. "Trying to protect the festival's reputation, I guess. Too bad. She was fucking cute, too."

My thumb scrolled to the top of the article, taking a moment as it was long.

When the picture at the top came into view, my hand that held my rig went slack, dropping the instrument on the floor.

It didn't make sense. It was a mistake of some kind.

25 Year Old Female Dies At Music Festival - Safety Protocols Being Investigated

The photograph that stared back at me, mocking my dropped jaw and widened eyes.

"Jolly, you good, dude?" Folio asked as he reached down to grab my guitar, now on the floor.

I couldn't respond. My blood had coagulated in my veins. My skin hardened to stone as my eyes stared at the picture, mind blanking.

The girl in the picture stared into my very soul.

Dirty blonde hair. Ice blue eyes. Small patch of freckles. Plush pink lips.

Pärla.

#jolly karlsson #jolly karlsson fic #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens #fanfic #bad omens cult

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greenishghostey · 2 years

Text

Dungeon Master Meet Prop Master | part 2

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Drama Club!reader

Summary: With your bike secured in the back of his van, you and Eddie get to know each other better on the ride to your house. It's amazing how much you can learn about the town pariah from a van interior and some accidental flirting.

Warnings: I've decided that this series will be 18+ eventually, so please DO NOT engage or interact if you are underage. More tooth rotting fluff! Awkward flirting. Me giving Eddie more game than he deserves to have. He makes shitty puns and is proud of it.

Word Count: 4,106

Authors Note: The reception for part 1 was so unexpected and AMAZING and thank you so so much for enjoying my fluff little passion project! So far, I have 6 parts planned for this series but that's likely going to increase since I've decided to add in some smut down the line.

Part 1 /// Part 3

You buckled yourself into the squishy passenger seat while Eddie secured your bike in the back. Busying yourself with twiddling your thumbs while mutters of “fuck” and “come on” mixed with grunts richoted through the vehicle. One of the back doors was jammed, you assumed, and Eddie sounded like he was about eight to ten seconds away from ripping the thing off of its hinges. Yep, you were definitely warmer - mother of god, you never could have imagined getting hot and bothered in this, for lack of a better word, “retro” hunk of metal and polyester upholstery.

Grunt. “Fuck”. Grunt. Groan. “Fuck. Okay, there we go”. Pant.

You were starting to squirm in your seat now. His laboured noises and breathing had you gripping your knees, nails digging through the pale denim of your jeans. Your bike had a lot of great memories tied to it - your first day of high school, summer bike rides with Penny and coming home from wrap parties full of laughter. You know, all of the wholesome high school student experiences that stay in your mind and your soul.

But this new bike memory was the fucking best.

“Phew! Had to make sure she was comfy back there. Gotta say, though, it’s a nice bike. You’ve got taste.” Eddie said. He had climbed into the somehow more squishy-looking driver's seat and brought your little daydreams to an abrupt halt. Just when things were about to get interesting, too.

“Thanks, it gets me from A to B - sometimes even C if I pedal really hard,” you quipped, using a well-timed joke to chase away the last of your bitch ass hormones. “I like your van too. It’s - it’s very you.”

“Christ, don’t strain yourself to compliment it.” Eddie snorted, leaning on the steering wheel, trying his best to look really really upset at your comment. It sort of worked. His eyes were his greatest weapon, and he clearly knew it. “First, you hit me, and now you insult the van. You’re breaking my heart, specs.”

“You know what I meant. Shut up. It’s cool. “Metal”, even. I like the shag rug in the back and the little postcards and stuff on the wall.” You had twisted around in your chair slightly to survey the van properly. The fuzzy, brown carpet in the back did look pretty soft; clean-ish too. The variety of postcards, photos and miscellaneous paper tacked onto the inside of the van were a bit fascinating - in an entirely Eddie way.

There was a hand-drawn band poster with “Corroded Coffin” written in large angular letters; they looked like runes with flecks of red on the line work. The band, Eddie’s band most likely, played at The Hideout bar on Tuesdays at 8 pm - a little risky for a school night, but live and let live. The poster boasted an experience that would “melt your skin and bones”, so they must be pretty good and really sticking to that super-satan-mega-cult aesthetic.

In addition to the poster, there were a few postcards from places out west; two from Vegas, and one from LA. You didn’t want to make any assumptions about Eddie’s personal life, you really didn’t, but each of the postcards had a scantily clad woman plastered on the front. There was a stunning Las Vegas showgirl, a bikini-clad smiley redhead and a woman who looked like Marilyn Monroe in that one signature white dress, but she was showing way more skin. He wasn’t bringing any hot dates into the van, clearly. Either that, or he didn’t care about the cards.

The other van decor consisted of D&D character sketches, a photo that looked to be of the Hellfire Club from the school newspaper, and another photo of a younger Eddie and an older man at the County Fair. The man was a bit scruffy looking, but he had such a gentle smile. This van was pretty metal, in your novice opinion. But it was also cosy. Eddie had made it very homely with just a couple of personal touches. You’d only ever known the van as a screeching, brown monster that rattled in and out of the school parking lot. Absent-mindedly, you patted your seat in an attempt to apologise to the vehicle for calling it names on more than a few occasions - hazard, clunker and death trap were arguably the worst ones.

Eddie had fished his keys out of his jacket and was wiggling them in the ignition. Your mom had to do the same thing with her old Ford. The keys only worked if they were at a 48-degree angle and you were cursing at them under your breath in a dead language. The engine roared to life along with the stereo, which blasted a howling, melodic voice and heavy instrumentals straight at the two of you. Eddie quickly scrambled to punch and slap the knobs of the stereo, either aiming to turn it down or turn it off - whichever he got first.

You’d flinched and nearly launched yourself from your seat at the noise, but Eddie succeeded in his efforts. Quiet and the low hum of the engine filled the darkening parking lot. Thank Christ. The janitor probably could have heard you guys and shit a brick wall.

“Oops,” he chuckled nervously, “sorry, didn’t think I was gonna have company tonight. Also, apologies to your ears.” It was interesting for him to assume you weren’t on the road to developing tinnitus already. Electric Light Orchestra had definitely caused that ringing you always heard, some Queen too. Fat Bottomed Girls had to be listened to at full volume at all times. It was probably a law or something.

“Nah, it’s fine. Just wasn’t expecting it,” you replied, calmer now so you could return his laugh, but it came out as more of a giggle. Ugh, you were going to start twirling your hair soon. “The aaaahhhhh part was pretty good, actually.” Your imitation of a heavy metal power note wasn’t good. It wasn’t even decent. The crack in your voice made you sound like a sea lion with an upset stomach you’d seen on National Geographic.

But Eddie started to laugh. He started to cackle. He even snorted. His nose scrunched up, and you could clearly see the dimples and lines on his face. Well, shit. He was still adorable even when he wasn’t giving your prop swords names.

Eddie was pulling out of the lot with that big goofy grin on his face again. You were quite a surprise for him - a perfect one. He felt a little lucky that he had the opportunity to see you unwind so much. Relaxed, dorky and happy were a pretty hot look if he was being honest. He was glad that the stereo song had only been at the beginning because things would have gotten awkward pretty quickly. Sex Drive by W.A.S.P wasn’t the mood he was trying to achieve. At least, not yet, anyway.

“Well, no more aaaahhhhh for now. I said you had stereo privileges, and I’m nothing if not a man of my word.” His heavy metal power note was way better. Not quite at the level of a crisp hellish wail, but it made your stomach jump, so he was doing something right. Eddie gestured to the tape deck while keeping his eyes on the road. He was driving with a lot more care than you’d seen from him in the past. It must have been due to the bike in the back.

“I dunno what song I got up to on this tape, so no sass if it’s a weird one, okay?” You pushed ‘Going for the One’ by Yes into the deck and quickly dialled down the volume to avoid a possible road accident.

The haunting bellow of an organ flowed through the van and made you cringe into yourself. Of course, it was gonna be one of the weird songs. ‘Parallels’ was one of your favourite songs from the album, but it was a song you kept between yourself and your bedroom. 1970s experimental rock wasn’t the first genre pick for most. You’d heard a guy, Ben, call it “hippie dad crap” at a drama club wrap party once. Ben was a piece of shit and sucked at acting, so what did he know? He couldn’t even carry high notes in the Christmas musical.

“Wow, specs,” Eddie piped up, taking in the opening to the song in all of its eclectic glory. “You’re kind of a little weirdo, huh?” He tilted his head towards you, met your gaze, and beamed with raised eyebrows.

“Like you can say anything about that. You nearly squealed like a little girl when I gave you some coffee-stained paper.”

“Weirdo is a high form of praise when it comes from me. Also, I needed old-ass-looking paper for map layouts. Also also, I don’t squeal… unless you ask me super duper nicely.” He smirked with that immeasurable smugness. Again.

Would it look too obvious if you were to roll down your window? The van had gotten progressively more stuffy since Eddie had sounded like he was fucking the shit out of your bike and showing her a damn good time.

“Just keep your eyes on the road, Munson,” you muttered, not fully trusting your voice at that moment. “I’ll get you some more crunchy paper. I have tons of it in case I fuck up prop letters and stuff.”

“Club donations now? Aw, you’re a weirdo and a sweetheart.” That pet name felt freezing and boiling simultaneously. The old ladies around town were the only people who had ever called you ‘sweetheart’. But hearing a guy say it? Now that was fantastic. Eddie didn’t miss how you cleared your throat and went back to twiddling your thumbs. You were gonna be getting ‘specs’ and ‘sweetheart‘ from that moment on.

The inky woods whizzed by as the two of you drifted down the long stretch of road. Hawkins was a dull town with a lot of greys, beiges and conservatism. It was a blip on the state of Indiana, where everyone knew everyone, and everyone knew everything about everyone. But, the surrounding landscape made up for at least some of the place’s setbacks. Your parents were all too aware that raising a kid in a small town could be a bit of a downer, so they made sure to get you and your little burgundy hiking boots outside to soak up the Indiana elements. You had to wonder if Eddie was much of an outdoorsy type. Obviously, not in the traditional sense, but who didn’t love spending time out by the lake in the sunshine? Shit, maybe that Sun goddess illusion was getting to your head.

“You said you liked the decor in the back? I would have taken down the um… risque imagery if I knew I’d have a lady in here, promise.” Eddie’s light tone cut through the night and pulled your eyes away from your window. You were “a lady” now. The concept sent a jolt through your body that you weren’t sure you’d experienced before. It was like electricity mixed with blushing, but it felt phenomenal.

“It’s not like the pictures are full-frontal, don’t worry about it. You’re a dude, after all,” you reassured. He was making it seem like he’d left some sketchy porn lying out for you to browse through. Some saucy postcards were nothing. One of your favourite movies was St. Elmo’s Fire, which had a scene of people going at it on a coffin. “The showgirl one is quite pretty. I like her sparkly outfit.”

“Ethan, a buddy of mine, used to be in Hellfire, went on a little westward adventure and sent me all of ‘em,” Eddie said, smiling, but it held some sadness. You remembered Ethan vaguely. He graduated last year and seemed to be Eddie’s right-hand man for all things Hellfire - never saw one without the other. “He sent one from Santa Carla that was way worse than those, but I’m too classy to go displaying that sort of stuff. I have innocent freshmen in this vehicle from time to time.”

“Gotta protect their little innocent eyes from the horrors of the world…” you spoke in a low, ominous voice, “…tits.” You had to laugh at your silly voice. Eddie just brought this type of goofiness out of you. It was freeing. Liberating. Refreshing.

Eddie choked on his breath when you said tits. He wasn’t totally scandalised by hearing a girl speak so bluntly. He just thought you’d be the type to call them boobs or breasts instead.

“I’m an excellent role model; I’ll have you know.” Eddie bragged, his usual small smile worming its way back to his mouth - he was clinging to that last particle of a cool guy persona. You shook your head at his comment, almost lost for words. Honestly, from what you had seen, he was a pretty okay role model for the Hellfire freshmen. He was nice to girls and guys alike, didn’t antagonise anyone who wasn't already doing it to him, and he was just… sweet. There wasn’t really any other word that summed him up quite so well. Eddie was going to give you some severe cavities, and you would welcome every single one.

“Don’t doubt that for a second, Munson.” You sighed; it was a dreamy type of sigh. “Anyway, what’s the story with the other stuff back there? I’m invested now.”

“Wanna know more about the freak? Hmm, specs? So, yeah, the raunchy postcards are from Ethan. The stuff he wrote on the back is mushy, but I’m glad he’s having fun in California.” From what you could remember, Ethan was a friendly guy. He was chummy with a few of the past drama club members and came along to most of the performances. He might have had a thing for Penny; most guys did, to be fair. Ethan once threw the bandana he always wore around his head onto the stage when Penny did her final bow. He was a good dude.

“What about the County Fair photo? Is that your dad you’re with?” You asked. Eddie’s jaw clenched, and his tongue ran across his lips. He looked deep in thought, trying to find a way to explain his family situation to you without divulging too much information. It wasn’t a fun story, and he didn’t want to scare you off.

“That’s me and my uncle, Wayne. Took me to the County Fair for my 14th birthday and let me get as much junk food as I could keep down. This nice old lady, who was making cookies the size of my face, took the photo. Said I was a pretty boy and it’d be a waste not to get a picture. Wayne gave me shit about that for weeks.” Eddie shared. He decided it would be better to avoid “the dad” situation. The two of you still didn’t know each other all that well, and it was some heavy shit, to say the least.

Eddie had only told Ethan and Dustin about what happened with his family when he was a kid. The reasons why he moved in with Wayne when he was 7 - as bleak as the story was.

“You were a pretty cute kid; She was right.” That comment was out of your mouth before your brain could catch up. The polaroid showed a smaller Eddie who was all big molasses eyes and buzzed hair. Had the guy ever not been cute? It was ridiculous.

“Saying I’m not cute now, specs?”

“Never said that, now did I?” You had never felt comfortable enough to flirt with a guy. A few had tried to put the moves on you at parties or between classes, but you didn’t have the confidence to reciprocate. With Eddie, it was very different. Regardless if he was just trying to be cheeky, you were ready to test the waters and see where things went. “I think it’s cute that you’ve got that photo up. Like taking the happy memory everywhere with you. You’re kind of a sweetheart yourself, huh?”

“Me?!” Eddie half-yelped. Ugh, his voice cracked too. He could feel his cheeks burst into flames. You had him acting like he was a flustered little teenager who was way too scared to even think about talking to a pretty girl. He wanted to hide in his hair.

Sweetheart. Him? Holy fucking shit. Eddie very nearly swerved the van across the road out of pure shock. Maybe God was real, and this was like a divine apology for the crappy hand that Eddie had been dealt. It was the only explanation that could explain how you matched his own little suggestive comments. It wasn’t that he was joking around when calling you a “sweetheart” or “noting” that you were easy to please. Quite the opposite, actually. He was stunned that you were coming out of your shell around him and were comfortable enough with him to let your hair down. Also, he had always been weak to flattery.

“Yeah, you. Eddie, not to shock you to your core, but I don’t think you’re mean and scary.” You said. It had only been a few hours since you’d started to get to know him, but you were right. Eddie was the furthest thing from mean or scary.

He looked soft under the streetlights. You and Eddie continued your strange combination of banter and flirting as he drove carefully through the suburban streets. The houses on Fletcher Street weren’t anything to write home about - the usual brown and white exteriors, well-kept front yards and sensible family cars in the driveways. You leaned forward to point at a single-level house with slightly untamed hedges against the porch fence - your humble abode. Eddie was driving at a snail's pace when approaching your house. His van looked like a death trap on wheels and what if your mom looked out the window when he drove up?

“Home sweet home, specs.” Eddie smiled, “nice place you got there. The foundations are on the ground, very fancy.” The self-deprecating humour was like second nature to him. Not really the type of funny that women swooned over. God, he was dumb. You shook your head at him while you got your things together and unbuckled your seatbelt. A trailer wasn’t anything he had to be ashamed of. One of your mom’s co-workers lived in Forest Hills, and her trailer was a gorgeous slice of domestic bliss.

“Thanks for the ride.” Christ, he was gonna scream. “Also, thanks for coming to the drama room today. I don’t usually have company in there, so thanks, Eddie.” You said, meeting Eddie’s eyes. You didn’t want to get out of the van yet, maybe not ever. That evening in the drama room had been the most fun you’d had since you joined the club. And you got called a Sun Goddess and sweetheart? It had been a fucking magical night.

“Don’t mention it. Couldn’t just leave you and the old gal to get home in the dark, now could I?” Eddie made a move to go collect your bike from the back. But he stopped himself suddenly. You were about to leave and might not want to talk to him at school when other people were around. He had to make a final move. “Would you mind if I started coming to do Hellfire set-up on Thursdays after school? The place has never looked better than it did today. Your expert opinion might need to become a weekly thing.”

He could live in the drama room if he wanted to; you would let him. You’d make him a little habitat in the storage closet if you had to.

“It’s as much my club’s room as it is yours. But, I do charge an hourly rate for my services.” You smirked. Eddie was rubbing off on you already, and it hadn’t even been six hours. His dreamy eyes flicked up and down over your form before his expression shaped a smirk to match yours.

“Whatever you charge, I’ll pay double, sunny.” Well, shit. Again. Eddie left you in the silence of the cab while he went to retrieve your bike. Sunny. Not specs, not sweetheart. But a more intimate name, one with a meaning only known by the two of you. The sounds of Eddie wrestling with the van's back doors seemed so far away as you essentially melted out of the van and onto the sidewalk. It felt like that dumb prop sword, The Sun Strike, had pierced your chest and was causing sunshine to fill you from head to toe. It was going to start shining out your ass if you weren’t careful.

The butterflies that had been nesting in your stomach since you left school were now thrashing around violently - it was like a mosh pit in your abdomen; at least the butterflies knew the object of their affections well. You shifted from foot to foot while watching Eddie go for round two with your bike and the van doors.

Grunt. Pant. Slam. Yeah, the slam was definitely doing it.

Eddie was fighting the urge to be a true gentleman and walk you to your front door, but he knew your mom was inside. The leather jacket, shaggy hair and extensive metal accessorising were not what suburban moms wanted to see bringing their daughters home after sundown. Eddie may have been jumping the gun a little, but he wanted to have time to prepare if he was going to meet the family. He had a button-down lying crumpled in the back of his closet that he needed to hunt down - purely as a precaution.

“See you tomorrow, maybe?” You asked. It wasn’t really a question, more of a request.

“Yes.” Eddie deadpanned and held up the Yes cassette you had nearly left in the van. He never could pass up the possibility to make a shitty pun.

“You’ve been sitting on that one for a while, haven’t you?”

“Yes.” The deadpan look was replaced with his signature smugness, but it had a hint of mischief rather than malice.

“Duuuude,” you whined, trying to nudge him in the feet with your bike. Swatting at him would mean physical contact, which would mean being close to him, which would make your hands all clammy.

“Okay, okay. It’s been rattling around the ol’ noggin since I saw the cassette at school.” He was mighty proud of himself for timing that joke so well. You snorted again like you had in history class too. That was going to put a spring in his step for the next month. Eddie glanced down at his watch, and his eyes widened, “you better get inside if you’re gonna catch MacGyver with your mom.”

“Yeah, I gotta eat dinner too - wait, how do you know when MacGyver’s on?” You pressed. If Eddie watched MacGyver, too, you might just have to jump him in the middle of the street. Mr and Mrs Derrickson across the street would get an eyeful, but that would be on them for being nosey, busybodies.

“No, nope. Get your pretty ass inside. We can discuss my TV preferences another time. I don’t want to be the reason your mom hounds you.” He started to manoeuvre you towards the path as you continued to ramble and ask questions about Richard Dean Anderson.

You said your final goodbyes and started to jog towards your front door, ditching your bike on the porch and grabbing your keys out of your backpack. Before heading inside to your mom’s lasagna and some fresh PJs, you turned around to see Eddie leaning against the passenger side door. He was waiting to see you in from afar. You wanted to slam your head against the solid, oak door. Instead, you gave Eddie an awkward little wave since your bag had fallen into the crook of your elbow.

Eddie waved back. He waved with enthusiasm and dorkiness, and with his whole right arm. A wave that was him to its core.

Once inside, your back hit the front door and you slid down onto the carpet. The sound of your feet tapping excitedly on the floor caught your mom’s attention, “sweetpea, you’re home late, was everything okay with getting back?” your mom asked, confused by you sitting on the floor and grinning like a maniac.

“More than okay. Everything - everything’s great.” Your smile was starting to hurt your face. But, fuck it, you were on cloud nine.

Tag list: @fan-girl-97

Part 3

#my writing #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x y/n #fluff #fic #eddie #stranger things #stranger things fic

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kakashissimp · 2 years

Note

Hi, I've seen your requests are open. This is my first request here, so exciting, and I hope I won't be a bother.

May I ask a fluffy fluff (with a little bit of "spice" , if you don't mind) with Yamato, please? Like how he tries to connect to his crush through his gardening skills, and his crush really likes him as well but both are too shy to do something...at first.

Thank you so much. Have an amazing day

🌞

A Day in the Garden | Yamato x Reader | SFW & slight NSFW

This is the cutest idea, you better believe I'm doing it. Thank you!! <3

Requests are open!

Warnings: Fluff, some spice, a handsy Yamato moment.

In the most dramatic way possible, Yamato felt like he was dying.

Not because of the hot sun beating down or the hard work you two were putting into the vegetable garden, but because of you. Rather, his nerves were getting the best of him.

It felt like an innocent thing at the time when he offered to help you, after the garden was mentioned in a brief conversation between you two. Yamato had caught you just outside of a seed stand with everything you needed in hand, and rather than walking off without engaging with you, Yamato knew he needed to say something.

Alas, it was how Yamato found himself stumbling over his words and the odd garden tool laying around, as he was too engrossed in you and the way you took so much pride in your home-grown vegetables.

Yamato cleared his throat and grabbed some of the early plants you sprouted inside during the cooler months. He stood next to one of your raised beds and glanced between the two objects, unaware of how you wanted things done.

“Is this okay right here, y/n?”

Your attention shifted to Yamato at the sound of his voice, and you were quick to stand next to him. “Absolutely! Do you want me to show you how?”

Yamato gave you a sheepish nod and handed one of the small plants to you. “That would be great, thank you.”

Smiling all the while, you showed Yamato how big the hole should be, and how to carefully pull the plant out without destroying the delicate roots. Once you were patting the soil around the freshly transplanted tomato plant, your eyes returned to Yamato and his almost lost expression.

He was overthinking it, yes. But unbeknownst to you, Yamato’s heart was screaming for help.

A light colour scattered across his cheeks before you thought of something better. Truthfully, you were smitten with Yamato and his willingness to assist you with something you were so passionate about. You thought he was incredibly sweet, even if others didn’t always see that part of him.

“How about I dig the holes, and you place the plants inside?” You proposed with a raised brow, hoping to make the experience easier for Yamato.

Yamato chuckled lightly and rubbed his neck, somewhat embarrassed for not being a bigger green thumb, despite his earth-based abilities. “I would appreciate that very much.”

Happy to get started, you began digging the holes, pulling enough soil back for Yamato to have room for the small plants. He pulled them out of their containers gently, oh-so careful while doing it, and placed them in gingerly.

It was an innocent thing, truly, but Yamato couldn’t be more aware of how close you two were while it was happening. While your hands held the dirt in place, Yamato’s skin would be so close to yours to set the plants down that he could feel the heat radiating off of you.

The tantalizing proximity of your hands was enough to make Yamato’s heart clench and burn for more. You always had such a ground-breaking affect on him, sometimes to Yamato’s dismay.

Yamato was willing to do anything for you, even if it meant torturing himself in the meantime.

Yamato patted the soil around the plant like you had, and your smile widened for him. His eyes met yours, bashful about the whole affair.

“It’s perfect Yamato! You’ll be an expert in no time,” you beamed, and handed him the next one.

He reached for the container, suddenly very aware of how close you two were again. Yamato felt himself burning up, but he couldn’t move either. His gaze was locked on you, blown away by your simple, yet mesmerizing beauty.

He was drowning again.

Once Yamato snapped out of it with another blush creeping up his neck, he began with the next one.

By mid-afternoon, the garden was fully planted, and Yamato even used his water style to make sure everything got a healthy dose to keep them going. You were so impressed with Yamato’s work that you disappeared for a time and returned with two glasses of refreshing iced tea.

The two of you drank them heartily and chatted as you normally did, but Yamato could hardly keep his head above water while he took in the way your skin glistened beneath the hot sun, and how the slightest sheen of sweat appeared above your brow.

There was something so raw and genuinely gorgeous about the way you looked then, and Yamato struggled to keep it together.

Eventually, Yamato followed you into the garden shed with various tools in hand, and while inside, he gave each one to you, since you knew where they all went.

The air seemed thinner in the garden shed, or rather, Yamato couldn’t breathe in such a confined space with you, and you alone. His heart stammered the moment the thought reached his mind.

“You did amazing,” you praised Yamato, to which a dazed excitement travelled through his entire body.

Yamato felt himself come to life at that, buzzing with interest. Colour bloomed in his face, and he swallowed hard, startled by the sudden compliment that had the strangest affect on him.

He could hardly meet your eyes, and a bashful smile became of his lips. “It’s nothing, really,”

“Still, I appreciate it very much,” you murmured to the flustered Shinobi. His intense blush and rather reserved state was quite clear before you, and your curiosity piqued.

It became obvious then why Yamato volunteered himself for the day. It seemed your feelings were in the same place.

Your warm, angelic smile made Yamato feel like his heart was about to burst, and he gave his own nervous grin in return. Even worse, the stray hand that found his own would surely be the death of him.

“You’re a great help, Yamato. Thank you. I was working out how I could repay you, but I wasn’t sure what would be suitable,” you hummed as the space between you slowly diminished.

Yamato could’ve choked then. His blush was even more furious than before, and he was very aware of your flirtatious hand in his own. He chuckled anxiously. “N-no need, y/n. I don’t mind helping.”

“That’s a shame,” you teased him with those big eyes of yours, gazing at him innocently. “Because I thought of something that could work for both of us.”

Yamato froze in his place, so overwhelmed by the sight of you, and the tail end of your suggestive words. It was all too much for him.

The world came to a stop the moment your lips brushed against his own. Yamato had to triple check that he was still alive, and he didn’t hallucinate the entire exchange.

Yamato’s surprised sound didn’t go missed by you, and it only encouraged you to press deeper once he regained his bearings.

Your hand left his palm to sneak around his waist, and Yamato finally allowed himself to relax enough to kiss you back, more earnest with the initial fear removed from him.

You were so incredibly important to Yamato that he feared messing up, and he feared your rejection above all. Yet, with your lips on his, Yamato felt like he had everything he ever needed.

Yamato’s hum of approval was a beautiful thing, followed by the tentative movement of his hands across your back. He held you gently, fearing you might break beneath his touch.

But it wasn’t enough for either of you. Your grip on Yamato became more desperate as the kiss lingered, and so too did his lips against yours.

The fire lit inside Yamato was new and completely your fault. He felt every drop of desire that formed within him, and he suddenly forgot all at once that you two were still in the garden shed.

To Yamato’s own surprise, he pushed you against a nearby wall and melded his lips with yours so fluidly that a haze filled his mind and made his legs weak. He wanted every inch of you, and hoped to absorb everything you offered him.

A small giggle came from your chest at Yamato’s sudden change in his demeanour, and your hands crept into his messy locks. The sensation of your fingertips against his scalp forced a moan from his throat.

The blush in his cheeks never faded, but Yamato didn’t care—not while your lips and tongues were so intertwined, he couldn’t tell where yours began and his ended.

The kiss was hotter than you had anticipated, and the want gathered in your belly at the feeling of Yamato’s body pressed against your own. You couldn’t help but guide your hands back down until they reached the hem of his shirt, and slipped underneath.

The taut feeling of his skin against his muscled abdomen made your brain go haywire, and a whirl of feelings invaded your system at once. Yamato was perfectly chiseled from his years of training, and that was plain to see.

Yamato couldn’t ignore the desire that bubbled within him while your hands felt his body, and he took it as his cue to do the same. Carefully, his arm snaked around your side and slipped down so he could squeeze the soft flesh of your ass in those shorts.

Your excited squeal elicited the most relaxed grin from Yamato that he could muster all day, and the subtle touches between you two felt more natural, as if he didn’t need to think twice about it.

When both your shirts were peeled off and Yamato had a ginger hand kneading your chest, you were far too invested to stop. The tension between you was tangible, and Yamato dripped of bliss.

Your lips trailed Yamato’s neck, and his breathy moans were a harbinger of what was to come.

The garden tools weren’t the only dirty ones that day.

#yamato #yamato/reader #yamato x reader #yamato oneshot #tenzo #tenzo x reader

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sir-yeehaw-paws · 8 months

Note

back in your ask box!!! i watched your final thoughts for yakuza 1 video (well done on being able to stand some of the glitches like god) and i was wondering if you had any more that you forgot to say or didn’t think of in the moment? i just really love hearing people’s final thoughts on game or other piece of media

That video ended up getting WAY sappier than I expected in the end but I seriously should've seen it coming TBH. I'm a sappy person at heart and anyway let's not get too sidetracked.

So I will say I definitely forgot to mention the camera. Having no control over the camera does mess with me quite a bit. Because Kiryu will turn around and you'll notice in the videos I uploaded of fights-he sometimes just stops hitting enemies. They're gone. Lots of times enemies would get stuck behind wall and other objects. I was also constantly checking the map in the menu itself, because I kept getting directions mixed up.

Not a game breaker, does make for some intense awkwardness. (Some of it's my own fault, I am hardly the gaming champion around here ahaha)

Combat got repetitive. My own fault because as I said in the video, I didn't finish Komaki's training thanks to the input issue. I had other skills I developed too, but I wasn't ever remembering to pull it off. So I didn't vary it to the degree I could've.

At the ending, I was going to finish the hostesses but I messed myself up there because you have Haruka permanently in the endgame. And her bond with Kiryu decreases if he goes to those places (it dropped when I bought weapons at Beam) and I feel bad making her sad so that was my own issue.

There is one place where the original game is better than Kiwami that is..going to probably be a 'hot take' but-not having Majima ambush you every twenty seconds makes for a less stressful game experience overall. You can get from point A to point B with only the standard street goons (which are VERY persistent you can barely get around the block without at least two ambushes: and they have bigger enemies that are in larger groups) but those fights are fairly quick, and pay well!

Majima, meanwhile, can seriously drag out. It's not as bad in the beginning but you'll come up to the end of Kiwami like "please..just one break..I do not have any more healing items."

For RGG'S first game out of the gate, it's good. I enjoyed it more than I expected too. It's all the same elements I love with Yakuza (as I had sapped about in the video) and the characters are recognizable, even in this rougher around the edges stage.

The dub itself is a strange point. As I said, again in the video, I've done some digging on it. The localization is considered decent, (apparently 'hit some balls' is translated as accurately as it could be) but that excessive swearing really shoves it into the 'trying to hard B movie' stuff. HOWEVER.

It has a GOOD cast and there's times where it's done really well. I don't have the kind of professional experience to claim someone is 'phoning in a performance'. I can't make that call. Not all line deliveries are very good, and there's some odd changes between how characters talk from beginning to end. There was one point near the end where Kiryu delivered a couple lines and sounded like a completely different person?? It was odd.

Directing is where it really shows. I feel like with the voices behind it, and the localization team, had it been given better directing, it would've been a bit I guess. stronger? I feel it's important to keep in mind too with it being the first game (and RGG wasn't some triple A studio back in the day either) they did pretty good.

;)

The games good! It's fun, it's recognizable. and I honestly think that if I had gone into Yakuza with this as my first game, I'd still be here. I got into Yakuza via Yakuza 0 and have since gone through the entire series. It's very important and special to me and I genuinely enjoyed Yakuza 1 more than I expected.

I didn't anticipate hating it, of course. But I was still a little surprised regardless since it is so infamous in the fandom. My only regret is that unless you own a PS2 or a really good emulator, so many people can't play it. Which is a shame overall. That's not unique to this and Kiwami, the remake is out there and known. But still. Sometimes I get a little sad about how hard game preservation has gotten.

#yakuza #yakuza 1 #asks #answered asks #SORRRY I RAMBLED

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jerzwriter · 1 year

Note

Let's talk about sex.

On a scale of 1-10 how important is sex to your pairing(s)?

Same scale how much do they enjoy sex?

What's their sex style (romantic, playful, anything goes, etc.)

LOL! OK, what a great question - and it required some thought.

How Important is sex to my pairings...

This is a difficult question because sex IS important. I'm not one of these women that is like, "oh, sex is no big deal, and sometimes I do it because I have to," and trust me, none of my MCs ever will be either. It is an important component of a relationship, but it's not more or less important than other parts. Would they be happy if the relationship was lacking in that area? Nope. But, for example, after Casey's third pregnancy, she and Tobias go a long time without due to health reasons, and neither one cares. She almost dies, and sex is the furthest thing from their minds. But once she's better, they're making up for lost time. So as I answer, keep in mind that a high rating doesn't mean sex is ALL that's important to them. It's just as important as other factors (like communication, companionship, etc.)

Ethan/Kaycee: 8 Tobias/Casey: 9 Eli/Zoe: 7

Eli/Zoe's is lower because their world is very different. Sometimes, even if they wanted to make sex a priority, they just may not be afforded that luxury. If they lived in our world, their number would be higher.

How much do they enjoy sex?

Ethan/Kaycee: 10 Tobias/Casey: 10 Eli/Zoe: 10

Yep. They all dig it. lol

What is their sex style?

Ethan/Kaycee: Romantic with a somewhat kinky twist. They like to take some risks, and they're into trying new things, but they aren't anything goes. For example, while they've done it at work, each of them promises they're not going to do it again... it's too risky. They end up doing it again. lol, But it's not all the time. Kaycee tends to be more playful but in a hot sort of way, Ethan more serious, in an even hotter sort of way. lol But it varies depending on their mood/needs.

Tobias/Casey: 🔥🔥🔥 They're both very sexual beings, and they are simply obsessed with each other. So their sex style is HOT. There is not much they wouldn't be willing to try at least once, and they're not shy about it. But it can vary with them as well. Sometimes it's very tender and romantic, other times it's kinky and rough. But it's always about expressing their love, adoration, and making the other feel out of this world. Like E/K, it depends on their mood/needs.

Eli/Zoe: I see them as leaning more toward the romantic. This doesn't mean romantic in the sense of roses, candles, and poetry. They're living in a post-apocalyptic world, for heaven's sake. Their desire for the other is physical, it is primal, and I think when they have sex, it is not always sweet, it's very hot. But it's so intermeshed with the love they have for one another - it's truly just a physical expression of that love. They were not each other's firsts, but neither had a lot of experience before. This level of intimacy is not something that either takes lightly and the fact that it's something they share together alone makes it almost sacred to them. Zoe is definitely more playful than Eli, though as time moves on, he catches up there too.

Thanks for the question! It was fun!

#ethan ramsey #tobias carrick #eli sipes #ethan x kaycee #tobias x casey #eli x zoe #nsfw-ish akss #asks answered

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dancinginfreedom · 1 year

Text

Today, I woke up feeling lethargic. My back and shoulder soring more than any other day that it did. But, I got up anyway. Went for my favorite mug in the kitchen, poured my usual morning hot karak into it. Rummaged through my plastic of groceries underneath my bed and found a pack of wafer to eat with my hot drink to welcome the morning. I reached for the book I’m reading these days, and just like that, I deliberately tried to start my day in a peaceful manner.

I was browsing instagram yesterday, and there was one particular reel that reminded me while clicking my loud keyboard at this very moment. It was about conventionally finding a reason to wake up each morning no matter how trivial it is. It was, in summary, finding your purpose each passing day. Today, it was freaking hard to do that especially with a back ache that screams “notice me, i need to be mended!”.

As I was slowly scanning my eyes through the words of the book in front of me telling “when you’re in an emotional state, empty your mind and take a break”, I unconsciously stopped and found myself staring blankly at the three-wick scented candle I lit at my bedside table while lying down on my stomach. Suddenly, everything felt so strange to me. Then, I knew, in that moment, I’ve never experienced this before….in a long while.

Afterwards, I just wanted to fall back to sleep even after having a full eight hours of sleep last night. I wanted to empty my mind and just give in to my desire of sleeping again despite not feeling sleepy. I was indeed in lethargy.

Yet, after that short peacefulness, my mind started to go full cycle at work again. I randomly wanted to write while my chaotic brain cells are somehow in sync with each other. I tried to save all these conceptual thoughts as much as I can that just kept flashing in a snap through my mind.

Just like that, in the rarity of all days, today was the day that my heart was at it again telling my brain “you’re still gonna achieve that dream to write your own book one day”. And unlike any other rare day, my brain agreed responding “I trust you, despite the chaos and messiness I bring to you every time you try to put all the floating thoughts in me altogether”.

I got out of bed, decided to take my shower to freshen up. And, here I am — typing a piece of my life story by sharing what my day looks like. Well, pretty much a day of choosing to first embrace my own emotional creases, without forcing myself to be positive nor to smile, bearing in mind the phrase “repressed emotions build up over time and would start to rot, blocking the way for all our feelings, even the positive ones”, from I’m Not Lazy, I’m on Energy Saving Mode.

It is better to release what you feel, deal with them head on than avoiding them by digging a hole to pile them up. Prevention is indeed better than cure. And when it comes to our emotional wellbeing, prevention might look like this:

“deal with me now, even recklessly is okay. it is better that way than not acting upon it at all”

Dealing with our emotions, fortunately, doesn’t need to be a grand gesture. It is making a space for a break — to feel and sit in with all that we feel. It is not even about understanding WHY nor figuring out WHERE they are coming from.

I do think that our emotions should not be left to harden and get swept to the side. Sometimes, just trying to understand our emotions AS THEY ARE without even knowing the answer, is THE ANSWER.

Stomach cramps just said “HI” to me while I’m trying to finish up this blogpost, unlocking the key why I’m feeling blue since last night and lethargic since this morning. Oh well, of course, I’m no exception to the hormones attack that every woman experiences whenever that period comes every month. And this makes me have the right to say…

ANSWERS do show up, from time to time, oddly most times, when we’re not even looking for them (ughh, but yeah, being a woman is so weird too, don’t you think? 🥺😬😅)

(this is the first ever post i’ve published on this platform after being on an unintentional hiatus for exactly a year and a half)

#life #self growth #selfreflections #self improvement #self love #self healing #self worth #emotions #anxienty #love yourself

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casspurrjoybellbittner · 4 months

Text

Wreckless - Good Advice

*Warning Adult Content*

Emmett

Not all of his towers stand up... only about half do the first time but we get the front wall done and he starts working on the decorations while I take a minute to look for Quincy and Rhys again.

I spot them and wave and they head over and Rhys runs right up and sits down next to Finnegan.

"You have lots of toys."

Quincy is carrying a ton of stuff, including a big umbrella.

"You're smart bringing an umbrella," I tell him.

Maybe we should get one.

"Irish boys," he says.

"I swear to God that Rhys burns just watching the weather report for a sunny day. Umbrella works great but it's a bitch to lug around."

I thought Finnegan was bad but he is a bit darker complected.

I help Quincy get the umbrella set up so the shade falls right on the castle that they're busy working on.

Apparently they've decided to go fill the buckets together, one each.

Works for me.

Rhys comes over while Finnegan is turning over the buckets.

"I wanna get some toys, please?"

"I think you two have plenty for today but we can get you some as long as you leave all of Finnegan's here. Understand, Reese's Pieces?"

"Yes. I won't steal his toys and you get me some."

"Exactly. Now go play."

He scurries back under the shade of the umbrella and Quincy sighs.

"So much work but so worth it. It's hot... I'm gonna dip real quick if you don't mind keeping an eye on them."

"Go for it."

I watch Finnegan and Rhys while he's gone and they seem to be getting along.

The conversation right now, from what I can tell, is about the best moat excavation tool and whether or not they should try to dig it all the way to the water so that it will fill by itself.

A wet, much happier Quincy pops back into the chair next to mine.

"Much better, thanks. How long have you two been together?"

It's a fair question but not an easy one to answer.

"It took us forever. We danced around each other for awhile but we've been... lets call it... four months, total. And you guys?"

"About two years. This is our anniversary trip. We live just north of Baltimore, little town called Havre de Grace."

That's not too far, actually.

"I know it, grew up in Baltimore and still live there. West side just down past Security."

"It's a small world. Right?" Quincy says because that's what everyone says, when you find out you live within an hour of someone.

"It's nice to meet you and Finnegan... the odds of meeting another little... they're rare as hen's teeth. Are you Finnegan's caregiver or are you a daddy dom?"

I know just enough to answer that question... at least I think.

We have sex so it's...

"A daddy dom. You are too, right?"

"Yeah. I did caregiver with my first little and then I realized it was a lot more fun, if I got to fuck them. Releases some of the stress, you know?"

I've been called blunt and pretty straightforward before but Quincy may even have me beat.

"Hard to say no to that. Although it's taking us a while to work it all out. We're both new to this."

"Sex or littles?" he asks, laughing and he smacks his thigh.

"I'm kidding. Finnegan seems pretty easy-going. The older ones are little bit easier to handle than the young ones. They still have their own issues, though."

This is my chance to ask a question that's been bothering me for a while now.

"Finnegan falls out of little head-space so easily. I don't know if it's because me. I'm probably saying things I shouldn't be but he loves little-space when he gets there."

"The older ones struggle more with it in my experience. I'm not saying you're not messing up because you're new to this so of course you are. Hell, I still mess up sometimes. But I think the less difference there is between their adult persona and their kiddie persona, the easier it is to switch between them. Once you get a toddler into headspace, you can keep them there easily. Finnegan is a little more independent so he's doing some things for himself.... I'm guessing and it's much easier for him to do more than he should and ends up switching. It's also really easy for you to say things to him that you wouldn't really say, to an eight-year old because he's not doing baby-talk."

That all makes perfect sense.

"Thanks. I'll think about all that. It makes sense."

"He's not full-time, right? Is he full-time with you?"

Full time but not full time?

Huh?

"What do you mean?"

"Does he work?"

Too much and too hard.

"Yeah, he has a high-stress, corporate job."

"Are you home full time or...?"

I am not a kept man.

"No. I'm a mechanic."

"Thank God for normal people. Seems like everybody says they're a lawyer or doctor. You had me worried, with the corporate thing."

I know exactly what he's talking about.

"I have a Sliding-Company and Rhys is an Elementary-School Teacher. But when he's with me he is always in little-space. Do you guys switch? I'm guessing so, from what you said."

"Yeah. We just go with the flow."

We get interrupted by Rhys and Finnegan wanting us to look at the sand-castle.

"That looks great, boys," Quincy says and I tell them the same.

They're going to test the moat with water now and I wish them luck.

When Quincy and I get back to our deck-chairs, he apologises for the interruption and his.

"I'm sorry," Quincy says. "You and Finnegan might want to re-consider flipping around like that. But hey, you have to do whatever works for you guys. I'm not the damn 'King of Daddy-Doms' like all those kids on the internet."

He's funny.

"I've seen some crazy threads. I've been looking for information but it's really pretty hard to find and half of it sounds like it's been written by... I don't know."

"By high-schoolers, who think they're a little... when all they are, is pretentious assholes, who haven't grown the fuck up yet," he finishes.

"And they think they know everything. I got into an argument with a biological twelve year old once because he said he was a little and I said he was too damn young to be one. That's when I got off Reddit. I'm dry again. I'm gonna try to get Rhys into the water with me also. He needs a break but he's not gonna want to take one. Still, he's gotta be hot and sweaty."

"I'll toss Finnegan in too... maybe it'll be easier if they both go."

We walk over and spend a few minutes congratulating them on the castle and then convince them to take a break.

I ask Finnegan if he wants me to throw him in but he says he's going to be brave and do it all by himself this time.

We'll see if he finds the courage.

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wretchedor30 · 7 months

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Taste the Soup

I’d like to share two stories. Compare how they relate and how they’re different, and why people like one but another falls flat. I was thinking about the first last night and it felt very resonant.

Story #1, possibly best known from end of Coming To America.

Guy goes into a restaurant, orders soup. Soup’s delivered. After awhile, he signals the waiter. The waiter says “sir, is there a problem with the soup?” The man says, “taste the soup.” “Is it too hot?” “Taste the soup.” “is it too cold?” “tASTE the soup.” “Is it too spicy?” “Taste the soup.” “Is it too bland?” “Taste the soup.” Finally, the waiter, now exasperated, says “okay.” He goes down to taste the soup, and says “there’s no spoon.” The man: “A-HA!”

As a joke, it isn’t great. The non-waiter character comes off as a demanding jerk, making things difficult and leading the waiter to the answer that could have been given. The humor of it seems to be based off of the waiter “catching up” to the actual problem.

Story #2, from Twitter

I work with a guy from Mexico who doesn't speak a lot of English. A Canadian goose made a nest by one of the paddock gates and hissed at him while he was putting horses out. He comes back to us after and says, "I do not like the cobra chicken."

This story gets a lot more chuckles, in my experience, and gained a lot of traction as a somewhat endearing term for the geese (much like snakes be “danger noodles” or raccoons being “trash pandas”). This is a success story about communicating when language fails, but words can be used in innovative (and fun) ways.

———

The difference between the two stories is mostly the perspective, it seems. The second story clarifies that the person doesn’t know a lot of English. It becomes a story that celebrates finding a way to communicate regardless of that barrier. In the other, the waiter seems to be the butt of a joke, and the characters are at odds.

But what if the first story was presented more like the second, without changing any major details? The first story could be about someone that similarly doesn’t know much English, perhaps doesn’t know the word for spoon, but is doing their best to communicate. So they just repeat what they can, and the “A-Ha!” is them being happy the waiter understands. Or what if the customer was deaf, and had ordered by pointing on the menu, and they were using sign language to ask for a spoon, but the waiter wasn’t understanding because they didn’t know sign language (interestingly enough, the sign for “soup” is just the sign for “spoon” going all the way to one’s mouth).Or if the waiter was deaf and the customer was trying to sign that they needed a spoon, was instead signing soup? (I don’t think it would be likely, as most people I’ve known that have hearing impairments do well at reading lips). It seems like a much better story, and the details even make it seem like the joke may have started off that way (with the customer being deaf, not difficult).

Why dig this far into a bad joke?

Sometimes I think I come off as the customer in the first story. I try communicating something, but do not do it well. I’m not trying to be difficult or rude, but I struggle at times to choose words to properly convey things. My family has told me a number of times that I’m not good at telling stories, and while many other people disagree, I think some of it is either not emphasizing certain elements enough or emphasizing too many things. The spoon is part of “tasting the soup”, but if the customer had just broken it down to just “spoon” rather than a process, the message would have been received more readily.

My thoughts kept me up a bit last night thinking about this. And today I was told I’d be getting my annual review at work (and then did a few hours later). Sometimes I put out too much information, and that makes it harder to know what the focus is. Sometimes I leave out details, whether because I take them for granted or don’t realize I failed to say something I should have. People say I’m condescending, and it’s something I’ve heard a lot, but it isn’t me trying to “square up” on someone’s vocabulary, it’s me trying to use the words that make sense.

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contemplativepancakes · 3 years

Text

let me just ease your mind

sharing something vulnerable for @whataboutthebard

Lambert/Jaskier, E

“If I tell you, you have to promise not to laugh at me,” Jaskier says, his hand on Lambert’s bare chest.

Lambert raises an eyebrow at him. “When have I ever laughed at you?”

“Every single day, you brute!”

Lambert mouths at Jaskier’s neck, his breath hot against Jaskier’s face. “I’ll attempt to contain myself. No promises.”

Jaskier fixes him with a glare, and Lambert sighs. “All right, I promise. Happy?”

Jaskier grumbles. “Not particularly.”

Lambert raises his eyebrows expectantly, and Jaskier looks down, tugging at the bed spread instead of making eye contact. A blush colors his face.

“I’ve…never slept with a man before.”

A flurry of emotions crosses Lambert’s face, settling on something soft. Jaskier shoves him in the chest. “Don’t look at me like that!”

Lambert carefully fixes his gaze into something more akin to a leer before he grins. “Better?”

“This was a terrible idea. I should have just strung you along forever. What was I thinking, inviting you into my bed?”

“We don’t have to do anything,” Lambert says cautiously.

“I want to.”

“Okay, okay,” Lambert placates as Jaskier crosses his arms. “What do you want to do?”

Jaskier buries his face into his hands. “Melting into the floor sounds nice right about now.”

Lambert carefully tugs his hands away, making Jaskier look at him. “Hey, I’m not going to be a dick about this, okay? I’ll make it good for you.”

He kisses Jaskier’s temple, before moving down to his neck, and across his chest, stopping to play with his nipples and run his fingers through his coarse chest hair. Jaskier lays back and spreads his legs, letting Lambert take the lead. Lambert moves to the end of the bed, where he kisses the crease of Jaskier’s thigh. His fingers trail over the sensitive flesh of his inner thighs, and he has to stop his legs from trembling at the tenderness of it all. “Touch me,” Jaskier pleads.

Lambert gives him a grin that makes Jaskier think he’s in for a very long night. He looks at Jaskier’s swelling cock, starting to stand up from his belly. Putting a hand on his chin, he says, “Hmm. Not yet, I don’t think.”

He continues his torment of Jaskier, touching him absolutely everywhere except his cock. His fingers brush the shells of Jaskier’s ears, and Jaskier keens in frustration. “Aren’t you always telling me to be more patient?” Lambert wonders aloud.

“Do as I say, not as I do,” Jaskier says, before he can’t take it any longer, and he hauls Lambert by the shoulders up to him so he can kiss him.

Jaskier jams their mouths together, but Lambert puts a hand on his chest, making him lean back until he can barely reach Lambert’s lips and slow down. The kiss becomes tender. Jaskier squirms on the bed, trying to rut up against Lambert to find any sort of friction he can. As soon as he rubs his hard cock against him, Lambert immediately backs up.

“Lambert!” he protests.

“Told you I was going to make it good,” Lambert murmurs.

“And so you’re planning on teasing me endlessly?”

Lambert shrugs, a devious expression on his face. “I’m having fun; aren’t you?” Lambert sobers for a moment. “Do you want to fuck me, or do you want to get fucked? Or whatever, we can do something else, too.”

Jaskier pauses to think. “You’d let me do that to you?”

Lambert squints at him. “Yes? It feels good. I’m not particular.”

Jaskier gives him a disbelieving look.

“About this,” he amends, laughing as Jaskier’s sure he thinks about all the things he’s very particular about.

While the idea of having Lambert all spread out in front of him and panting is certainly appealing, he also doesn’t want to mess this up. People tend to think he’s so much more experienced than he really is, and it’s led to many misunderstandings throughout the years. Besides, there’s no guarantees they’ll sleep together again after this, and if anyone is going to enter him for the first time…having it be Lambert might not be so bad. Enjoyable, even, if the tales he’s heard are to be believed.

“Fuck me,” Jaskier decides. “And touch my fucking prick!”

Lambert ghosts a teasing touch over his cock, and Jaskier lifts his hips, chasing after it. It doesn’t help since Lambert gets up from the bed, Jaskier makes a displeased noise at the loss of his weight and heat. He digs through his bag until he finds a jar of something. “Made it myself,” he preens. “With seaweed.”

Jaskier wrinkles his nose. “I’m sure it’s delightful.”

“Hey, I see that face! This is the best quality stuff you’re going to find.” Lambert sighs wistfully. “Fucking carrageenan, man.”

“I see you’ve been hanging about with your sorceress too much again.”

“After tonight, you’ll be begging me to go meet her so you can thank her yourself, trust me.”

Jaskier hums, unconvinced, but his tune quickly changes after Lambert strokes Jaskier’s cock using it, his hand unimpeded as it glides up and down the shaft. Jaskier’s cock is red and weeping by now, but Lambert still doesn’t take pity on him, pulling his hand away after the few tugs.

“Do you want to do it on your stomach or back?”

Jaskier thinks about it for a second. “My back.”

He doesn’t want to say as much, but he does think the experience will be enhanced if he’s able to see Lambert during it. His muscles look good while he’s clothed, and they’re doubly enchanting now. Jaskier drifts a finger across one of Lambert’s scars. Lambert glances down as he manhandles Jaskier into the position he wants him in, tugging him to the edge of the bed while he stands in front of him. “That one’s from a harpy, I think,” he says.

“A harpy got the better of you?” Jaskier asks in mock disbelief.

“Shut up. It happens.”

The lines around Lambert’s eyes crinkle, and Jaskier can’t help but return the smile. Lambert bends Jaskier’s leg, leaning down to kiss the delicate skin of his ankle and licking it a little just to be an ass because he’s Lambert, before situating himself in between Jaskier’s legs. He puts more of his slick on his fingers, before he circles them around Jaskier’s hole. Jaskier looks down in fascination as two of Lambert’s fingers breech him. Rotating his hand, Lambert looks at Jaskier to make sure nothing hurts, and Jaskier nods at him eagerly, just an odd sensation of something foreign being inside of him. Nothing mind blowing yet, but so far, so good. Lambert soothes his hand down Jaskier’s flank. “Gentle, remember?”

Jaskier scowls at him as Lambert pulls his fingers back out, spreading more slick on them before he introduces a third finger. He wiggles them inside Jaskier, crooking them about as he presumably looks for the little bundle of nerves that Jaskier’s heard so much about. There’s a sense of cognitive dissonance as he looks down at where Lambert’s fingers disappear into him, but he gasps when Lambert presses up against the spot he was looking for. “Right there,” Jaskier tells him, and Lambert rubs him relentlessly, making Jaskier moan and light up from the inside out.

His cock throbs. He reaches down to touch it halfheartedly, but Lambert slaps his hand away, as he expected. “Touch me, please,” he begs.

Lambert relents with another teasing touch, just dragging the fingers not currently inside Jaskier up his shaft before pulling at the foreskin a bit. Lambert keeps this up until Jaskier is a boneless, panting, mess. “Just fuck me,” Jaskier cries.

“I’m going to finger you for another minute, just for that.”

Jaskier throws his head back against the pillow and shuts his eyes, trying to keep his overwhelming arousal from crashing over him. Finally, blessedly, Lambert pulls out his fingers. He lines up his cock with Jaskier’s hole, pressing the head in. He scoots Jaskier up on the bed so he can bracket his arms around Jaskier as he pushes in farther, waiting for Jaskier to adjust with each bit.

Their faces are close to each other, and Jaskier can’t help but pull Lambert into a sloppy kiss as the blunt sensation of fullness settles in his gut once Lambert’s all the way sheathed inside of him. “Okay?” Lambert asks, and Jaskier nods. He’s a little amazed that it doesn’t hurt. There was only a slight burn as Lambert first entered him, then the overwhelming feeling of knowing that Lambert’s cock was inside of him.

Lambert buries his face in Jaskier’s neck, sniffing at him as witches are wont to do, while he shallowly thrusts his hips, his cock rubbing against the walls of Jaskier’s hole maddeningly. After a few minutes of this, Jaskier is blubbering from the sensation of exactly what he wants being so close but out of reach. His hands come up to grip at Lambert’s thighs, urging him to go faster.

Melitele smiles down at him when Lambert finally repositions himself so he has better leverage, starting to slam inside him. Jaskier shuts his eyes and listens to the slap of their skin echo in the room, crying out whenever Lambert gets a particularly good thrust past his prostate. Lambert reaches down between them to take Jaskier’s aching cock in hand, stroking him quickly. He twists his hand as he does, sometimes reaching down to brush his thumb over Jaskier’s sack and fondle it. Jaskier nearly bites through his lip at the stimulation of it all.

It’s a pathetically short amount of time after that when Jaskier spills, shouting Lambert’s name and squeezing his hand around Lambert’s wrist. Lambert slows his thrusts and strokes Jaskier through it, until Jaskier pushes his hand away.

Lambert pulls out of him before Jaskier can protest, leaving his hole clenching around nothing and bereft as it begins to tighten again. Lambert jacks his cock quickly, Jaskier tracking the microexpressions that flit across his face as he brings himself his own pleasure until he comes, spurting onto Jaskier’s crotch and stomach. Jaskier gives him a put upon sigh at the mess, but he’s not sure how convincing it is when he’s so tired he can barely do anything but lay there.

Lambert grins at him and tugs at his hair before he retreats to grab something off the floor that Jaskier recognizes as his doublet. “Hey!” he protests, but it doesn’t stop Lambert from cleaning them up with it.

“You’re buying me a new shirt,” Jaskier says.

Lambert hums. “I’ll wash this one for you. Maybe. If you’re lucky.”

Jaskier throws an arm over his eyes. “You’re so cruel to me.”

He keeps his arm there until Lambert prods him in the side.

“How was that?” Lambert asks. “World shaking?”

Jaskier looks up at him, brushing his fingers through Lambert’s bristly hair and making him flush. “It was everything I wanted.”

#the witcher #watb #lambskier #pwp #contemplative writing #lambert #jaskier

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thefirstknife · 3 years

Text

Some of the more interesting bits of today's reset and dialogues. I loved this from Mara. She acknowledges her participation in steering Uldren towards his downfall AND she realises that she will have to do better with him in the future. This is from the ending dialogue when you finish the exotic quest for the Ager's Scepter.

I want to mention something from the start of the week because I've seen people get angry (but when do they not when it comes to Mara?)

Long post under read more:

It's about the discussion she and Ikora have at the terminal. Hot take, but both Mara and Ikora are right and wrong in the argument. Transcript:

Mara: "How long have your Hidden been privy to Uldren's resurrection?" Ikora: "Long enough to watch over him in your absence." Mara: "And you didn't direct him home. Why?" Ikora: "There was a concern he'd pick up some old habits." Mara: "You know the Garden made him sick. Riven twisted his mind. Eris would have seen it. She is not so easily deceived by skin-deep tricks." Ikora: "It's true I made mistakes, out of an idea of justice... out of grief. Are you leveling this same scrutiny toward Petra? Wasn't she supposed to be watching his grave?" Mara: "Petra has paid her dues. The Vanguard murdered him and has yet to pay theirs." Ikora: "We both lost family. I am sorry for my part in yours, but... Crow has been treated --" Mara: "My brother is dead. He was exhumed; his body twisted into a caricature. You had your vengeance." Ikora: "Is that what you're after? Cayde... I still feel that grief like a stone caught in my chest. Some days, it's more pronounced than others. Vengeance didn't erode that grief." Mara: "Then tell me. Who am I to blame? Who sent him to Savathun's clutches? Who bludgeoned Uldren into a scared animal and drove him from his home?" Ikora: "You did, Mara. And those Guardians that hurt him, did so out of misguided anger. Don't make the same mistake. Don't make my mistake."

This is some heavy stuff and there's a lot going on. First, I like that Mara doesn't respond at the end. It's uncharacteristic for her. It shows that Ikora's words did something to her. This is evident in the exotic quest later which I've already put at the beginning of the post. She's had time to think and she's admitting the part she played.

I dislike some of Ikora's arguments a lot. First, "concern that he'd pick up some old habits" goes entirely against the Vanguard policy and belief that Guardians are new people. They were only concerned because of bias towards Uldren due to what he's done. And Crow knows this! He said so last week when he wondered why is he the only Guardian judged by his past life. No one else is subjected to the same way of thinking. This is the reason why Guardians aren't supposed to dig around their past lives. Obviously with Crow, there's no way for him to avoid it, but the argument that, if he knew, he'd just magically become Uldren (and not just base!Uldren, but murderer!Uldren who will... I don't know, go after Ikora and Zavala or the innocent people in the City?) really shows how much the Vanguard mistreated Crow.

I also dislike the move to Petra. As Mara says, Petra has paid her dues. She really has. Let's not forget that Uldren was not just some guy to her or just her Prince; he was her friend. She had to watch him spiral out of control due to things she couldn't help him with, she had to make the choice to put him away until Mara comes back and at the end she had to make the choice to kill him. This trauma has shaped her.

The Vanguard hasn't paid any dues. That's kinda the whole point of Mara's questioning. Ikora tries to explain that this was due to grief and losing family, but pray tell Ikora, has Mara not lost family too? Mara mentions this immediately as expected.

Ikora is however right to say that it was ultimately Mara's actions that led to the situation we're currently in. The Vanguard had no say in Awoken royal family affairs. Mara knows this, she said as much in the past few weeks and other lore in general: she spoke at length about the distance she pushed between them out of perceived necessity, the need to shape Uldren in a way to make him less like himself (since she disliked his recklessness and dangerous behaviours), but ultimately that only made things worse. She's aware that his venture into the Black Garden was fuelled by Uldren's need to prove himself. Ironically, in an effort to make him loyal and devoted, Mara pushed him into more recklessness instead of stopping it. She's aware of this. Asking Ikora "who am I to blame" was just waiting to be roasted.

But Mara is also right to ask about how the Vanguard treated both Uldren and Crow. How they washed their hands from killing him "officially" by hiding behind the Guardian, how nobody in the Tower answered for this. Their treatment of Crow as well: forcing him into hiding, isolating him. Excusing all the suffering he felt at the hands of the Guardians as "misguided anger." The torture he endured from Guardians just for showing his face was so much more than just "misguided anger" and Mara is right to feel heated and enraged when she talks about this and when she asks her questions. She expressed similar distaste and anger in a voice line with Glint in regards to how the Spider treated Crow.

I got an interesting dialogue at the end of my Shattered Realm run which also made me really irritated on behalf of both Crow and Mara when it comes to the Vanguard. Ikora asks Crow why didn't he send his latest report and Crow replies that he's had a lot going on and a lot to deal with. Which is true! He's not the Drifter who doesn't send reports out of spite; Crow genuinely wants to help but he's struggling with a lot of things that we can't even begin to unravel. He deserves patience and understanding. However, the following then ensues.

Ikora:

Crow:

Ikora:

This last part is a nice sentiment. But excuse me. Crow has literally been resurrected, isolated, tortured, enslaved and then "rescued" only to be thrust into a cage in the Tower and given "responsibilities." He is not obliged to be the Vanguard's errand boy. It's honestly quite rude from Ikora to tell him that he has to take his responsibilities seriously. The man hasn't lived a single day in his life without anxiety over whether he'll be tortured to death in the street if he shows his face.

I know the Vanguard gave him protection from the Spider and stuff to do (which he enjoys) and accepted him into their ranks. That's all good. But there's very little empathy here that acknowledges the life he's lived. Crow deserves to experience things that aren't isolation, imprisonment and following orders.

And most of all, he deserves to know the truth. Something the Vanguard has denied him for almost a year now. I know Savathun's schemes were involved and specifically, they were involved through impersonating Osiris which made a lot of people turn a blind eye. But now that this is known?

Crow can't share his burdens without knowing the truth. That's the whole problem. Everybody, except him, knows who he was. Everyone looks at him and treats him through that lens. He can't unburden himself without being told half-truths and being denied information. His burdens exist precisely because he doesn't know while everyone else does. So while the sentiment is nice, it reads more like a "that sucks buddy" than a genuine offer to help him with what is really bothering him.

On the other hand, obviously sharing the truth is difficult. His past life is more complicated than for most other Guardians. He's been through things that other Guardians haven't. The situation is complex on every single level and every character has a reason for the choices they've made.

Sometimes those choices are wrong and they are mistakes. And Mara isn't the only one who made the wrong choices and mistakes, consciously and unconsciously. It's a disservice to the complexity of the situation, Ikora, the Vanguard and Uldren to boil everything down to "Mara bad." Doesn't make for a compelling story.

That's what I wanted to address in detail because on the surface, it's easy to just dismiss either of the character you dislike more. And that's just reducing the story to a spectrum of black and white that Destiny really, ironically, isn't about.

#destiny 2 #destiny 2 spoilers #season of the lost spoilers #mara #crow #uldren #ikora #lore vibing #long post #that was such a great interaction between mara and ikora #i hate seeing it boiled down to 'mara bad. got told off by ikora. yas queen.'#ikora is also a complicated character driven by strong emotions and opinions #don't reduce her to a simplistic image of ikora that people generally have #it's honestly a huge disservice to her

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slasherscream · 3 years

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Hi I don’t know if you write for Thomas Hewitt or Vincent Sinclair but if you do you could you please make some headcanons about them and the other slashers like if they got into a fight with their s/o and how it would go, what it would be about, and how they would make up with their s/o please? It’s totally fine if you don’t want to. But if you do then thank you so much!

fighting with the slashers

A/N: i do write for vincent (on a related note i also write for bo and maybe lester i haven’t tried him out yet)!

vincent sinclair

You didn’t stay put when Vincent told you to and you got hurt.

You hadn’t planned to leave. Until the sun started to go down and no one came back to the house to check up on you the way they so often do when there are visitors in town.

You are Ambrose’s second best kept secret. Alive because Vincent took one look at you and couldn’t bare to hurt you. And though Bo gripes about you he couldn’t tell Vincent no. Not when Bo saw the way Vincent held you behind him, head lowered but shoulders set, ready to actually fight him on something for once in their lives.

So you’re kept in the house when there are people around. Other than not being able to leave it’s your only real rule. Vincent wants you to have no part in the more grisly aspects of the town and Bo and Lester honor his wish.

But the town is dead silent and no one has come to check on you. Most times Lester even comes to stay with you like some sort of babysitter. It used to irritate you, despite your fondness for the youngest brother. Now without him there your hands shake, and your eyes wander, and your ears burn as if pumping extra blood there will make you hear better. But there’s nothing to be heard. No screams. No cries. No Bo shouting. No guns going off.

So you leave the house, searching for one of them. Instead you’re found by a survivor and held hostage in front of the twins.

You all stand still for a long while, the victim not knowing what to do and the boys unable to move due to the knife digging into your neck, already drawing blood.

Lester had been the one to save you, sneaking up behind your captor and stabbing them. You ran to Vincent on shaking legs and he gathered you into his arms, moving to take you back home. You could hear the screams of the man who’d almost killed you ringing through the streets behind you and shivered.

Vincent had cleaned your cut in silence and somehow had managed to barely touch you. Before you could blink he’d shut himself into his workshop and you were left alone until Bo came home and chewed you out.

You kept yourself busy cleaning and then prepared for bed, knowing it would be awhile before Vincent would come and join you. The sleep didn’t come easy as you were still shaken up, but eventually it came.

You woke in the middle of the night to an empty bed and realized that if you didn’t go to get him Vincent wouldn’t be getting any sleep tonight.

You walk drowsily through Ambrose’s underbelly, the smoldering heat not doing you any favors, until you arrive at Vincent’s workshop where he’s hunched over his desk, unmoving.

Not wanting to startle him you call his name quietly and you see his head tilt in acknowledgement but he doesn’t turn to look at you.

Slowly you move until your front is resting against his back, even slower your arms encircle him and you kiss his shoulder, feeling guilty at the tension laying dormant in them. “I’m sorry, Vince. I was just worried about you so... so I left the house. I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry I didn’t listen. I won’t do it again.”

He turns and there’s a pause, and then he moves his hands, fluid but slow. They’re shaking despite how strong you know they are. He tells you how he can’t lose you. How he loves you. He asks you to promise him that next time you’ll listen and you do, and you mean it.

It’s only then that he pulls you into his lap and holds you tightly. You think he’s crying behind his mask but you just hold him back equally as tight and whisper I’m sorry against his steady pulse.

pelle

He doesn’t like the company you keep.

He has a plan. He has a plan to take you away from this strange, uncaring world that doesn’t deserve you. That doesn’t love you or care about you. If he sticks to the plan everything will be so easy.

But sometimes Pelle loves you too much to bite his tongue.

He can see it clearly, your perfect future where he takes care of you, and his family takes care of you, and you let them do it, and you’re happier for it; but you don’t live in that perfect future, you live in the frigid, imperfect present.

Here you stay up late in the night to help a friend finish a term paper when last week they didn’t even call when you were sick. You gave a classmate your umbrella to borrow a month ago, and today you come back shaking from the rain because they never bothered to return it.

A thousand little kindnesses that the world outside the Hårga spit on.

He knows that all these moments of careless apathy towards you will only strengthen the draw you’ll feel when you finally meet his family.

You have the heart of a Hårga and he knows that you’ll feel that connection.

Still, the way the outside world, the way your friends and family slight you at every turn, makes his blood run hot. He’s never felt anger like this before. It is all consuming and yet he must stomach it alone.

And so his tongue is careless sometimes. He asks in tones that he shouldn’t use with you “you’re going out with them again?” and “but didn’t they-?” and still he is angry. The words do not ease the feelings because they do not fix the problem.

Pelle must lead you into the arms of his family and their way of life. He cannot push you. But he doesn’t know how not to take care of you.

He wants to beat away the leeches and moths that cling to your light and whisk you away to home where the sun will warm you with its love.

Your fights are gentle, and so you might never refer to them as fights when people ask you if you ever argue with Pelle.

There is no yelling, or balled fists, or the animal sensation of fight or flight. He leads you to sit down with him and holds your face in his hands. Unthinkingly you mimic the gesture and he smiles at you lovingly. One kiss and he tells you that he doesn’t like your friends. Another and he says that you deserve better, deserve the world.

You try to get a word in edgewise, to deny the claims he makes, to tell him that they really do care about you, but the words are smothered by his soft lips. He kisses you until your brain goes somewhere loved and numb. He slips your coat off of your shoulders and pulls you close. He keeps you there until you forget that you had anywhere to be besides his arms.

You and Pelle don’t fight.

chucky and tiffany

Tiffany is used to Chucky being a piece of shit. You are not.

Upside to fighting with Chucky is that Tiffany is immediately on your side, even if you’re in the wrong (I’m joking it’s always Chucky’s fault.)

Downside is that the whole house is now up in fucking chaos.

chucky: tiff where are my fucking keys?

tiffany: in hell! why don’t you go and grab them?

You appreciate her fighting spirit but she’s really going in on y’all’s man.

Which is not to say that Chucky doesn’t deserve it. Because he does deserve it, but you know from personal experience that being on Tiffany’s bad side is scary.

Why are you and Chucky fighting? Chucky is an insensitive asshole, and even the toughest skin isn’t bullet proof.

The aftermath of whatever Chucky did is a lot of sullen silence from you; the sounds of a knife chopping a little too loudly in the kitchen from Tiff; and loud bits of huffing and puffing from Chucky as he stomps around the house.

At first he thinks he can just wait out your anger until you start missing him. It used to work with Tiffany all the time!

But this relationship involves three people. You’re not so quick to get desperately lonely, especially if Tiffany isn’t the partner you’re fighting with. Do you miss Chucky? Sure. Do you miss him enough to let him be an asshole just to get some cuddle time in on the couch? As if! Tiffany is the better cuddler anyway.

The man child is going to have to say sorry and mean it.

Of course this means that your relationship is going be sans-Chucky for at least a week.

Tiffany reaches the breaking point before Chucky does. Obviously more in-tune with your feelings she can tell how much the fight is getting to you and no one messes with her sweetheart! Not even Chucky.

You’re going to hear her delicately clearing her throat, look up from your phone, and find Tiffany holding Chucky at fucking knife point.

tiffany: do you have anything to say, chucky?

chucky, trying to decide if he’ll let tiffany kill him just to prove a point: ....

tiffany: i’ll start with your dick-

chucky: i’m sorry! are you fucking hAPPY?!

You’re gonna be like no!!! I do not accept the apology you gave me under extreme duress! At which point you turn over in bed and pull the covers over your head.

You’ll hear rapid-fire whispering and then the bed dips behind you. A knee presses into your back, and kisses are pressed carelessly to where your head should be beneath the covers. Then, finally, the quietest “I didn’t mean it, doll.” as he pulls the blanket back in order to look at your face.

You’re stopped dead by the softness on his face. By the softness he let’s you see, even if it’s only for a moment. It might not be the words I’m sorry but it sounds like them. It sounds like an I miss you, as well.

When you drop your phone and throw your arms around his neck, touching him for the first time in a week, Chucky sighs in relief.

Not ten seconds passes before Tiffany has thrown herself over the both of you, suffocating you in her loving embrace. Just like that, balance is restored in the Lee Ray-Valentine household. For now.

#vincent sinclair x reader #chucky x reader #tiffany valentine x reader #pelle x reader #tiffany valentine x reader x chucky #slasher x reader #charles lee ray x reader #bride of chucky #house of wax #not my first thing for vincent being sad adjifjd #the juxtaposition between vincent's part of this post and the poly tiff and chucky part??#fill.

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intheticklecloset · 3 years

Text

Sibling Bonding (My Hero Academia)

This fic was purchased from my Coffee Shop Wish List by a generous supporter. Thank you!

Primary Universe

Summary: Spring break has arrived, and Todoroki heads home to spend some time with his older siblings since Endeavor is out of town. When he accidentally reveals that he's ticklish, things take a giggly turn very quickly!

A/N: YES I'm so excited to share this one! Earlier this year somebody suggested a Todoroki siblings fic, which I declined at the time because I didn't feel like I'd be able to do it justice. Later I felt more confident and put it on my Wish List, and now it's been purchased for your reading pleasure! Enjoy! ^^

Word Count: 1,915

~~~

“I’m here,” Todoroki announced without flourish as he entered his home for the first time in months, kicking off his shoes in the entryway.

Fuyumi poked her head around the corner from the kitchen where she was working on dinner. “Welcome back, Shoto.”

"Thanks.” Todoroki shrugged off his backpack and entered the kitchen, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He felt awkward, but did his best to ignore it. “It smells great. What is it?”

“Soba.”

He blinked at her. “You…didn’t have to go out of your way for me.”

“It’s no trouble at all. It’s your favorite food, right? I wanted to make today special. It’s the first day of your spring break and you’re spending it with us!” Fuyumi smiled at him. “I want you to have a great time.”

Todoroki nodded at her. “Thank you for cooking.”

“Of course. Natsuo should be here any minute. You can take a seat in the dining room if you want. We can talk easier that way.”

“Okay.”

But instead, he leaned against a counter she didn’t appear to be using, putting his hands in his pockets. His first instinct was to cross his arms, but he didn’t want to come across as grumpy or ungrateful. He was truly happy to be here, finally able to spend time with his siblings without the presence of his father to ruin his mood.

It had been Fuyumi’s idea. Endeavor was out of the prefecture on business, which left her and Natsuo home alone for the first time in a while. That, and it was spring break for U.A., which meant Todoroki was free to come over and hang out with them without having to get permission to leave the campus. Fuyumi had quickly arranged for this first day to be spent having dinner together.

“So…” his sister said after a brief pause. “How’s school going?”

A couple of hours later, dinner was over, the dishes were in the dishwasher, and the Todoroki siblings sat around in the living room staring at each other awkwardly. None of them really knew how to proceed.

Still, Natsuo tried. “So, uh, Shoto. What kind of stuff do you like to do?”

Todoroki knew what he meant. What should we do now that dinner’s over? He thought for a moment. “Well…my friends and I play Mario Kart a lot, I guess.”

Fuyumi perked up. “You like video games?”

“They’re fine.”

“Well, we don’t have Mario Kart,” Natsuo said, “but we do have the latest Mario Party game. Do you want to try that?”

“Sure.”

Todoroki helped his siblings set up the game, then selected Yoshi as his character and proceeded to inadvertently dominate both of them as time went on. He won several mini-games and always seemed to get to the star first, no matter the circumstances. He honestly couldn’t tell if he was really good, or if his siblings were just really bad. Or both.

“Jeez, Shoto!” Natsuo finally exclaimed after the youngest sibling got his fifth star – three ahead of Fuyumi, who had two. He nudged Todoroki, his elbow pressing into his ribs. “Give us a chance to catch up!”

Todoroki giggled.

The room went silent for a moment.

“Shoto?” Fuyumi asked, staring at him incredulously. “Are you okay?”

Todoroki knew he was blushing and he wished desperately that he could have held in his reaction better than that. But it was too late now, and he knew it. He sighed. “Yes, I’m fine. Natsuo nudged me and it…it tickled. That’s all.”

Natsuo’s eyes lit up. “You’re ticklish? Really?”

“Nat,” Fuyumi warned.

Todoroki hesitated. Game forgotten now, he glanced between his siblings on either side of him and struggled to decide how he wanted to proceed. He knew they wouldn’t touch him without permission – knowing what he’d gone through with their father kept them from doing that much, at least. But he didn’t want to brush them off, either. As it happened, he did enjoy being tickled to an extent, but he’d never been tickled by family before.

“I…um…” he swallowed, heart racing. What would they think if they knew the other half of it, too? That he enjoyed doing the tickling?

Fuyumi reached out as though to put a hand on his shoulder, then stopped herself. “Shoto, it’s okay. We won’t tickle you if you don’t want us to. Right, Nat?”

“Definitely not.” His brother was surprisingly emphatic, nodding. “I was just surprised to learn you were, that’s all. If you don’t like it I’m not going to tickle you just for the sake of it.”

“I…I do like it.” Todoroki mumbled, setting his controller down, hoping that would be enough invitation for them. “My friends tickle me quite a lot, actually. It’s fun. As long as you stop when I ask you to.”

Natsuo grinned, setting his controller down, too. “So you don’t automatically say ‘stop’ when you’re being tickled, huh, Sho? That’s interesting.” He poked him in the ribs again. “Cute, too.”

Todoroki smiled, pulling away only the tiniest bit.

“Fuyumi? I think we have some long overdue sibling bonding to catch up on.”

She beamed. “I totally agree.”

And that was it. The next thing he knew, Todoroki had been tackled to the floor, fingers digging into his ribs and sides and belly in rapid succession, giggles bubbling up out of him quicker than he had time to process. He squealed and curled up, but did his best not to push them away. He also never said a word of protest.

“Aww, you really do like it, don’t you?” Fuyumi cooed, wiggling her fingers up into his underarm. “Tickle, tickle, tickle~”

Todoroki yelped, his whole body jerking when she found one of his hot spots, and his squirming became near-thrashing when she realized what she’d done and continued to do it. Natsuo laughed, grabbing his wrists and pulling them above his head with little resistance, giving their sister full access to his armpits.

Fuyumi dug in, smiling wide as her youngest brother tossed his head back and laughed freely, eyes squeezed shut and teeth showing as he beamed happily, legs kicking behind her. “Aw, is this a good spot, Sho? Does it tickle really bad here?”

“YEHEHEHEHEHEHES!!” he cried, arching his back as she raked her nails from his underarms to his hips, searching for another hot spot. “GAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! CAHAHAHAREFUL!!”

“I will be,” she promised.

“I want in on the fun, too!” Natsuo declared, shifting so he was sitting on Todoroki’s arms, pinning them above his head while he leaned down to pinch at his ribs and sides, sometimes scribbling along his neck and ears as well.

Todoroki dissolved into giggles, flustered beyond belief but still enjoying himself. Then Fuyumi squeezed his thigh experimentally, and he screeched with a new round of fresh laughter, shaking his head. “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE!!”

“Ooh, another bad spot?” she teased, squeezing gently, drawing loud laughter from him every time. “You’re really ticklish, aren’t you, Sho?”

“I KNOHOHOHOHOHOW!!” he laughed, digging his heels into the carpeted floor. “PLEASE, IT TIHIHIHIHIHICKLES A LOHOHOHOHOHOT!!”

“Are you still okay?” she asked. “Do you want us to stop?”

Todoroki whined but shook his head. “I’M FIHIHIHIHIHINE!!”

“Fuyumi, I want a turn!” Natsuo complained, releasing Todoroki’s arms and shuffling down to join her. “Let me try some spots! Don’t take all the fun of experimenting away from me.”

“Fine, fine, you big baby,” she shot back playfully, scribbling lightly over Todoroki’s sides and belly. “Go on, try his knees and feet.”

Todoroki couldn’t help the sound that escaped him at the mention of his feet being one of the next targets. He slapped his hands over his mouth the instant it was out, but it was too late.

“Oh? None of that,” Fuyumi admonished gently, pulling his hands away from his mouth and down to his sides, straddling him, pinning them in place as she danced her fingers over his ribs, occasionally sneaking into his underarms as well.

“I’m not getting anything here,” Natsuo said, squeezing Todoroki’s knees but not getting any kind of twitch or extra giggles for his efforts.

“Then try his feet.”

Todoroki couldn’t help it. He pleaded, “Behehehe careful, plehehehease, I’m reheheheally ticklish there!”

“Oh?~” Natsuo grinned, pulling off his socks and scribbling wildly over his bare soles. “Are you, now?”

“NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! CRAP, PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE NOHOHOHOHOHO!!” Todoroki shrieked, tossing his head back and unleashing loud, uncontrollable bouts of laughter that had both of his siblings staring at him in shock. He squirmed uselessly, trapped under Fuyumi’s weight and – following that outburst – Natsuo’s as he straddled his legs and went to work tickling him like crazy on his worst spot in true brotherly fashion. “NONONONO PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE NOT THEHEHEHEHEHEHEHERE!! NAHAHAHAHAHATSUO!!”

Fuyumi grinned. She’d never seen Shoto look so happy in his life, and despite his ticklish distress and the pleas falling from his mouth, he never once said stop, never once looked to be truly panicked. He was loving this, she realized, and it made her heart so full she thought it might burst.

Laughter was truly the best medicine.

“AAAIEEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOHOHOHOOOO!!” Todoroki suddenly screamed, laughing so hard his hysterics went silent. He shook his head desperately, trying to gasp for breath. “NO MORE NO MORE PLEHEHEHEHEASE NO!! STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!!”

Fuyumi climbed off of him. “Nat, get off, he’s had enough.”

Natsuo complied, but he was laughing just as hard as his younger brother had been moments ago. “Dude, your laugh is the best thing in the world! You know that? Got a serious sweet spot on your arches, don’t you, little bro?”

Todoroki curled into a ball, still giggling, still smiling. “Y-Yeheheah…thanks f-fohohor stopping…”

“Of course. Wouldn’t want to go too far.” Natsuo ruffled his hair, beaming down at him. He and Fuyumi shared smiles with each other.

“Are you okay? Let me get you some water,” she said, hurrying into the kitchen and returning a moment later with a glass.

Todoroki took it gratefully, taking a few sips after he sat up. Then he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “You guys probably think I’m such a child.”

“Shoto, sweetie, you are a child.” Fuyumi smirked, winking at him. “You’re the baby of the family, remember? But that doesn’t matter. Liking tickling doesn’t make you any less of a man. Or a pro hero.”

“For sure,” Natsuo agreed. He nudged his shoulder. “If anything, we think it’s awesome. Right, Fuyumi? It just means we have a guaranteed way to make you smile.”

Todoroki never imagined his first time really spending time with his brother and sister would wind up like this, but he wasn’t complaining. Not in the slightest. He smiled, unable to contain his relief and happiness. “There…there is one more thing, though.”

“Yeah? What is it?” Fuyumi asked gently.

He bit his lip, then glanced between them. “I like doing the tickling more.”

They went quiet.

They looked at each other.

Natsuo jumped to his feet. “Crap, Fuyumi – we’d better run!”

Fuyumi took his hand as he offered it to her, and they began to disappear from the living room.

“Wait!” Todoroki cried, worried he’d ruined the happy feeling from moments before. “I won’t do it unless you’re okay with—”

“Well, what are you waiting for, Sho?!” Natsuo called from somewhere in the hallway. “Come get us, tickle monster!”

“You can’t catch us!” Fuyumi sang teasingly.

That familiar fire flared up within Todoroki, and he beamed and leapt to his feet, chasing after them.

Sibling bonding went both ways, after all.

#fanfiction #tickle fic #boku no hero #my hero academia #bnha #mha #shoto #todoroki #natsuo #fuyumi #todoroki siblings #playful #soft #gentle #fluff #wholesome #tickling #ticklish #tickle

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wri0thesley · 3 years

Note

If you are indeed taking requests, pls give me a fem reader and her first time w bruno or mista 🥺 fluff and smut combo pls

anticipation - mista x fem!reader (2.3k)

you and mista have been building up to your first time for months.

warnings: afab reader, fem pronouns. first time/virginity. light fingering, piv, coming inside, mention of contraception.

Everything about Mista overwhelms you. The slow grin that spreads across his face when he looks at you, the drag of his knuckle along the small of your back, the way his eyes darken and his voice lilts when he says your name – you look at him, and you can’t believe how lucky you are that he wants you.

But sometimes, that want frightens you.

Sometimes, it frightens you how looking at his slow grin makes a heat spread low in your belly, how it makes you want to clench your thighs together and drag your own eyes away from his gaze. He’s so perfect, and you’re . . . you. You simply don’t feel like you’re good enough for him.

You’ve been skirting around the issue of going all the way for a few months now. You’ve kissed, of course – you’ve rutted against one another whilst making out, unhurried slow rolls of your hips in time with erratic heartbeats and murmurs of one another’s names. You’ve held hands, had his fingers brush between your legs over the clothes, maybe fondled a little bit beneath one another’s shirts--

But this is still new. And underneath Mista in bed, as he groans into your ear about how much he wants you, you can’t help the flare of fear that goes through you.

He pulls back, his breath catching in his throat, big hands hovering over your hips. This close, you can see the light in his dark eyes and the dusky blush on his tan skin, as he croaks out;

“I really wanna touch you, babe.”

You know that if you say ‘no’, Mista will pull back. He’ll cuddle you instead, and the comforting scent of him will wrap around you until you’re lulled to sleep by the rhythmic beating of his heart. Mista will not hold it against you.

But . . . the flush on his face tells you that he’s nervous too. And the pounding in your core tells you that you want him to touch you. If you’re both nervous, you think, maybe it will be easier. Fingers push up the hem of your shirt, brushing bare skin with a heat that has your heart beating too fast.

“I want you to touch me too,” you find yourself saying, voice soft and breathy. A crooked grin splits Mista’s handsome face. “W-wait--”

You reach up, just a little. Your thumb hooks under Mista’s hat, pulling it off him so that his riot of dark curls flops in front of his forehead. You smile at him shyly; it’s not that you don’t like his peculiar fashion style (being able to ogle his bare midriff whenever you want, gaze lingering on the dark patch of hair leading to what’s between his legs, is a plus) – but you love him with his hair all dark and messy. His grin doesn’t fade an inch as you toss the hat onto the bedside table.

“Wow,” he teases, “you’re gettin’ me undressed already. I didn’t know that you were so forward--” The laughs that bubble out of you both are nervous, and you’re glad that Mista is feeling unsure too. It’s not that you don’t want to – in fact, it’s that you want to so much. You like Mista so much. You don’t want to fuck this up--

“Can I take this off?” He asks, thumbs hooking under the hem proper, where it’s already pushed up. At your breathless nod, he tugs on the fabric, peeling it from your skin and gently pulling it over your head. “Wow.” He breathes soft, looking down at you, eyes devouring the curve of your chest. “You’re gorgeous.”

“Your turn,” you say – pulling at his shirt. Mista preens as his own clothing is taken off, clearly proud of his body; the defined, soft swell of his pectoral muscles, the light curve of his stomach (you know from previous experience that Mista’s stomach is a layer of softness with a brick wall behind it). There’s a tremble in his lip, though, so you bite your own and say;

“Guido—”

“Y’like it, right?” He asks, and you nod fiercely. One of your hands reaches out, gently squeezing at his chest; thumb brushing over his nipple, winning a soft hiss of air through his teeth. He blinks at you, slow and hungry. “You’re gonna get me too excited, babe--”

He takes your hand and slowly and deliberately presses it against the bulge in his skin-tight tiger print pants. You can feel heat radiating from him; stiff and hard and hungry.

“Y-you’ve already got me excited,” you tell him, and you shyly push down your jeans, wresting them from your legs so that you can spread your knees and Mista can see the damp patch on the gusset of your underwear clear as day. He groans aloud.

“Th-that for me?” He asks. The way he keeps stuttering is adorable. It’s so easy to forget that Mista’s just like you, when you think of the gun stuffed down his pants and the position he occupies as the right hand man of the Don of Passione – but this is a reminder that the two of you are just two people who love each other, young and in love, and desperate to do right by other.

“Yeah,” you confirm. “Y-you can touch, if you want—”

“Fuck,” he breathes. “I do want.”

Fingers brush your folds through the slick fabric, hot and thick. Your hips tilt automatically, searching for more stimulation, and Mista groans at the sight of you bending for him. They pry under the elastic, brushing your bare sex – and you swallow a moan, a soft noise escaping you at the sensation. Mista is captivated.

“You’re so pretty,” he says, “I wanna--” You lift your hips as he tugs at the underwear, and it too goes the way of both of your shirts. He presses your knees just a little further apart, looking between your legs like he’s just seen a treasure he’s been hunting for months. You’re slick with need, your body pulsing in time with your heartbeat. One of his fingers dips into your slick, brushing your clit and making you shiver.

“C-careful,” you whine, as he repeats the motion with his thumb. “I’m – s-sensitive--”

“You sure are, babe,” he breathes. “I’m gonna . . .” The tip of one of his fingers gently circles your fluttering entrance as a warning, and you give him a brief nod with your teeth digging into your bottom lip. He pushes inside, the feeling strange but not at all unpleasant – Mista’s fingers feel so much better inside of you than your own ever have. He reaches the first knuckle, and then the second, and then suddenly his whole finger is in you, gently pumping you whilst you get used to the sensation.

“Fuck, you’re wet,” he breathes, his eyes seeking out your own. A shudder grips you at how intimate and intense it feels, to be fucked by his fingers whilst he looks directly into your eyes. “So tight . . . so hot--”

“Guido,” you breathe out again. “Please--”

You take a second finger, a soft scissoring motion to open you up. You haven’t actually seen Mista’s cock, but you’ve gotten a good feel of it, and you’re grateful for the way he prepares you, fingers deep inside of you. The muscles in your thighs tremble and clench under the onslaught of sensation, little whimpers dropping out of your mouth as his thumb returns to gently pet your clit. For such a big man, well-known for being rather clumsy, Mista is incredibly delicate with you – watching your face for the slightest twitch of discomfort and immediately changing the angle or the pressure. Where he’s touching you, you can feel heat and tension coiling together.

One of your hand flutters over his wrists as you mumble;

“I-if you don’t stop, ‘m gonna--”

“You don’t want to come?” His voice is dark and raspy. You bite your lip, squeezing your eyes shut, too embarrassed to look directly at him as you say whisper-soft;

“I wanna come with you inside me.”

He groans at that, his fingers gently pulled out with a slick pop. His hands are shaking as he reaches for the zip of his trousers, shuffling out of them – and you can’t help but think how cute he is, with that flush on his face and tremble in all of him. He’s wearing tiger-print boxers, too, and you can’t help the soft laugh that escapes you.

“H-hey,” he says, but he’s grinning at you with such softness in his eyes you feel knocked out by the sight of it, “these are haute couture, babe--” “Very handsome,” you say, with a soft laugh. “C’mere, tiger—”

Oh. He’s fished his cock out of his underwear, fisted in one large fist – you don’t have much to compare it to, but he looks thick. The tip is flushed dark, a nest of dark hair at the base, prominent veins running down the shaft – you want him inside of you as much as you’re afraid to have him inside of you.

He grunts as he readjusts himself and the noise sends a needy ache through you. You find yourself swallowing, your hands coming up to grip his strong biceps.

“You’re sure about this?” He mumbles, under his breath, not quite meeting your eye. “I . . . only wanna do it, if you are--”

“I’ve never been more sure in my life,” you say, and as the words spill out of you, you realise they’re nothing other than the god-honest truth. You look up at him and give him a reassuring smile. “K-kiss me?”

“Babe,” he mumbles, “if I ever say no to that, you’re dealin’ with an enemy stand--”

His lips meet yours; a little rushed and messy and wet, at the same time as his cock nudges at the cleft between your thighs. Your gasp is transferred into the cavern of his mouth, your fingers digging harder into his shoulders as he guides his hips forward and you feel the stretch of being opened up on his cock. You’re glad he prepared you with his fingers, but you’re not sure that anything could compare to the feeling of Mista stretching you out for the first time.

You whine wordlessly, suckling at his lower lip, as he continues to inch inside of you, slowly. He lets you adjust to feel of him, your walls clinging tightly to his cock with every new bit of him that’s sucked in by you.

He’s groaning himself, his eyes half lidded as he looks at you. Your mouths meet in sloppy, hungry kisses – more about the act of touching one another’s mouths than anything else.

“There,” he mumbles, pulling back. Both of your gazes are drawn to where the two of you are joined; Mista’s cock, and your sex stretched around it. “Fuck. I look so good inside of you.”

“S-so modest,” you say, as your hips roll instinctively. The feeling of his cock heavy in your insides is good, but your body is screaming that it would be better if he were to move. Mista groans at the feel of the gyrations, pulling back a little just to drive back in with a groan that gets that ball of tension and need rolling again.

He’s slow, not fucking into you in earnest. Both of you are enjoying the closeness, the pleasure that comes from finally being joined – but as time passes, Mista’s thrusts begin to get more sure. Your body adjusts to his size. The drag of his cock against your sensitive walls makes your entire body prickle with energy.

His familiar scent wraps around you. You memorise the sound of his breathing, shaky and gritty – you memorise the feel of how you mould to him, the way he looks at you like you’re the most precious thing in the whole world.

Nothing is important, in this moment in Mista’s bed, except the place where the two of you are joined as one. There’s nothing in the world except for one another’s bodies, the stickiness of sweaty skin on sweaty skin, the way that Mista’s thrusts are already getting messy and hungry.

“Please touch me,” you mumble, against his ear, and he lets out a stuttering groan. Clumsy fingers come to play with your clit, swirling the bud. He’s not as gentle as he was earlier, too lost in his own pleasure – but you’re more turned on, closer to the edge, and even Mista’s clumsy rubbing is enough to have you tossing your head back onto his pillows and groaning out his name, your tight walls clamping down around him.

The feel of you coming around his cock and under his fingers seems to push Mista over the edge, too; the way that your channel clenches and sucks at his cock, so that his hips jack-hammer inside of you in search of his own blinding pleasure--

You’d talked about protection before, and told him you were on the pill, so the sensation of him filling you with his release does not frighten you. Instead, the feel of his hot release coating your inner walls makes your toes curl. You feel completely and utterly claimed, completely and utterly his, happy in a way you’ve never experienced before as Mista groans out your name in a tearful prayer and buries his face in the crook of your neck.

“I love you,” he’s mumbling against your skin, as his cock begins to soften inside of you. “I love you, I love you, I love you--”

“I love you too,” you breathe, and you feel his lips curve into a smile.

#mista x reader #guido mista x reader #guido mista #not sfw #writing #afab reader #fem pronouns #jojo postin #jojo fic #jjba #Anonymous

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mypoisonedvine · 4 years

Note

how about a dark bucky x naive reader where he always gets nightmares and she is always trying to help him (making him tea, laying with him til he sleeps, etc.) and one night she laying beside him and he’s having a nightmare and he traps her and says “this is the way to help me” and then there’s non/dubcon since she does want to help him 😳🥺

oh my godddd i love this!! anon your mind.... this idea has been living in my brain rent free ever since you sent it it.

noncon, yandere-ish bucky, breeding kink, slight somnophilia and more below the cut people, watch out

he would definitely be really sweet at first, even with his brooding and aura of mystery

so it’s impossible for you to resist trying to get to know him better even as he seems to avoid you sometimes

eventually he opens up enough to tell you about his nightmares, and you feel awful about it. he struggles to get enough sleep and sometimes he’ll try to get you to hang out late and you realize it’s because he’s afraid of trying to sleep at all.

you tell him to spend the night in your room and you guys can hang out and have a classic high school-style sleepover with junk food and movies. you figure maybe it’ll distract him and maybe he’ll stay up so late that when he’s exhausted, he’ll be able to fall asleep easily.

it’s a lot of fun but it doesn’t seem to help much. and it gets awkward when he makes a move on you and you do your best to gently rebuff him. i like you a lot but i don’t like you like that-- i just want to be your friend, if i can

it’s never an easy conversation to have but he seems to take it well, or as well as he could be reasonably expected to

your next solution was tea with melatonin. he got to bed easier but he still had terrible nightmares and you had to wake him up because he nearly choked you out in his sleep.

finally, he asked you to sleep beside him in his bed, and you felt a little conflicted about it.

I know the last time you were around me while I slept went... really poorly... but I promise, I won’t hurt you. I could never hurt you.

you agree only because you want to help him so badly

at first it’s normal, even sweet. you brush your teeth together in the bathroom, you change into your comfiest pajama set and try to ignore that he’s sleeping shirtless.

you fall asleep pretty easily, and hope that he’s doing the same

but not so much later, you wake up to metal fingers pushing up the bottom of your shirt, running over your hips and waist

you mumble through the haze of half-sleep to ask him what’s going on but stop when you feel his hand slide under the fabric and wrap around your breast.

you open your mouth to speak but no words come out. you're totally paralyzed.

he slides closer and you feel his entire body pressed against your back. he's so warm, it's almost hot to the touch. hottest of all is the hard outline of his cock pressing right into your ass.

he rolls his hips against you and lets out an incredibly soft moan-- that's when you realize that he must be having some very strange dream or nightmare, that he isn't meaning to do this to you.

bucky, wake up! you're having a nightmare...I think...

I'm awake, the voice right beside your ear informs you. that or I'm having the best dream of my life.

you stammer because you have no idea what is going on. w-wait...

this is the only thing that's helped. I never told you, but the nights where I tired myself out by jerking off and imagining you, those were the ones where I slept the best. but it didn't fix it completely. I just know if you help me, the nightmares will go away.

before you can even speak again he's talking over you, sounding less sweet and more stern.

don't you wanna help me, doll? don't you wanna help me feel good? don't worry, I'll make you feel good too...

the hairs on the back of your neck are standing up because you know something is horribly wrong, but you want to give him a chance. still, you're unsure. I don't know...

you don't know? you said you were my friend. friends help each other.

you gulp and answer sheepishly, o...okay...

thanks, doll. I knew I could count on you.

he grabs your hand and pulls it down. you gasp as he wraps it around his manhood-- it's thick, and hard yet silky.

you've never touched a cock before have you?

you feel embarrassed, you realize you must be doing something wrong already if he noticed your lack of experience. um, no... I haven’t...

oh I don't mind! it's a good thing. your hands are really soft... so much softer than mine.

you stay still and let him fuck into your hand, your face burning with shame even though you began to feel arousal tingle between your legs.

after a little more of that, he moves you around until he’s hovering over you, his hips between your legs.

I wanna try something different-- it’ll be better.

before you can stop him he’s rubbing his cock against your crotch, through your flimsy little shorts, and the sensation sends shivers up your spine. you had touched yourself before, but this felt totally different.

with him on top of you like this, you feel so small. his body towers over and envelops yours, but even with all that strength his little moans sounded gentle and vulnerable.

he leans down and you can feel his breath on your neck, his long hair falling down and tickling your face while his stubble scratches against your cheek

fuck, I love you, he murmurs into your ear.

what?! you try to recoil but you're trapped between him and the bed.

don't you love me too? I know you do.

you shake your head, you can’t even believe what’s happening. I told you, we're just friends

he grabs your jaw suddenly, forcing you to look at him, and even in the dark you can see his eyes burning with anger.

I know you love me. if you don't, you will.

he starts to move his hips back and pull your pajama shorts to the side, and for all your naivete you know exactly what's about to happen.

bucky, please-- don't put it in me-- no, stop, wait--!

he shoves into you, groaning as your unwilling body is forced to accept him

hnng, you're so tight doll. can't you feel how wet you are? that's how I know you love me. god, you feel so fucking good.

you sob and try to push at his shoulders but he's like fucking granite.

don't fight it, it’s gonna feel good for you soon... you just need time to get used to me.

you can’t imagine how this could ever feel good, it stings and makes you feel nauseous-- that is, until he reaches down and swipes his calloused thumb over your sensitive bud.

your whole body jerks and your fingers dig into his shoulders.

oh, do you like that princess?

you want to deny it but you’re too busy bucking your hips involuntarily, chasing more sensation

fuck, you’re a needy little thing, huh? you need me so bad... don’t worry, I’m here to take care of you. god, you don’t know how long I’ve waited for the chance to take care of you....

suddenly the burn inside you begins to subside and you feel the tip of his cock rubbing against something that makes your walls tighten around him with every thrust.

you hear your whimpers of pain morph into moans of pleasure, and you can hardly believe the noises are coming from you.

feels good, doesn’t it? god, you’re such a tease... inviting me for a sleepover-- you don’t even know what that means for adults, does it?

guilt burns in your stomach as you wonder if you really did lead him on, if it means something different than you thought and that’s why he came onto you.

and before that, spending nearly every day with me and talking with me about things I’d never told anyone before... you may have fooled yourself but I knew you wanted me so damn bad.

had you?? you couldn’t remember now. of course you’d always thought he was cute, that was objectively true, but you were just trying to be his friend...

and now you act so shocked and confused when I fuck you, but within a few minutes you’re moaning and begging for more.

you don’t remember any begging.

his thrusts get a little rougher and you choke on nothing.

I know you want it. I know you need it-- need me.

you can tell you’re going to come, but it doesn’t feel like how it feels when you’re by yourself. it feels so much more intense, electric even, and you’re not sure you’ll be able to handle it.

god, i’m so close-- you’re close too, aren’t you? you feel so good, doll. feel so good around my cock. fuck, you want me to come inside?

no, buck, you can’t-- i’m not--

oh it’s gonna feel so fucking good to fill you up, doll... and i know you’re gonna love how it feels when i come inside you.

you start to cry again, terrified that he’s going to get you pregnant when you’ve never even had sex before now. please-- stop... i’ll help you again tomorrow, i’ll help you whenever you want, just please don’t come inside me...

oh doll, you’re gonna help me every night now, don’t worry about that. gonna fuck you again before the night’s over, more likely than not. gotta keep those nightmares away until I can only dream of you.

against everything in you hoping not to, you come suddenly. you feel yourself tightening and fluttering around him as your whole body convulses.

when your back arches, he slips his arms under you and holds you close, fucking into you with brutal speed and force.

fuck, right there-- fuck, doll, i’m coming, oh fuck!

with a deep growl he pushes his hips against yours as hard as he can, burying himself in your pulsating warmth. you whimper and cry as his cock flexes with each spurt of come emptied into you. it feels like it goes on forever, his come coating your walls while he sucks on the crook where your neck meets your shoulder.

fuck, baby... you’re incredible...

you shiver, waiting for him to pull out and roll off of you, but he just relaxes and kisses all along your collarbone.

god, I could fall asleep like this. I sure as hell couldn’t have any nightmares with you keeping my cock warm in my sleep.

bucky... what if you got me pregnant?

oh, don’t talk like that, he purrs, you’ll get me all worked up and I’ll have to fuck you again.

he kisses you on the nose and it’s so disgustingly intimate.

I think I’ll be able to sleep again, at least for a few hours. come on, let’s move over to my side of the bed and you can be my little spoon.

#Anonymous #dark!bucky x reader #dark!bucky barnes #dark!bucky smut #bucky barnes non con #dark!bucky x you #dark!bucky x y/n #dark!bucky headcanons

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 3 years

Text

By My Side (Part 5)

Summary: The reader has finally hired a replacement manager and after a dinner with her family, she and Jensen confront some underlying feelings...

Masterlist

Pairing: Bodyguard!Jensen x reader

Square: Free Space

Word Count: 3,200ish

Warnings: mature (language, smut (m/f))

A/N: Enjoy!

A/N #2: Written for @spnkinkbingo

_________

You stretched as you woke the next morning, getting ready for the day of entertaining your family. You bumped into Jensen in the kitchen, a pair of jeans and a simple black henley on him. You smiled but he frowned and you instantly made a face.

“Y/N, don’t turn off your phone ever. It’s a rule, remember?” he said before returning to slurping up his cereal.

“Oh. Sorry. I forgot,” you said.

“Please try not to do it again,” he said. He finished with his bowl and you took the cereal from nearby, pouring yourself some. “Are you deciding on a new manager today?”

“Yeah. I was thinking of that David guy?”

“The british one?”

“No, that was the Mark one. He was scottish I think. I’m not positive,” you said.

“Is David the one that had that intern? The little guy?” he asked.

“Alex? No, he was his just his driver. It doesn’t matter. I was thinking of David. What do you think?”

“Why does it matter what I think?”

“You did full background checks on all of these guys,” you said. “Who do you trust?”

“Honestly?” he asked. “I like Jake.”

“The young one?”

“He lacks the experience of the others but I don’t see him screwing you over. He was a navy cadet in college. Had to drop out due to a knee injury. Him I trust. Not that I don’t the others but I got a good feeling from the kid.”

“I’ll take that into consideration,” you said. He stood and you grabbed the milk, Jensen wiping off his mouth. “Have fun with your sister.”

“She’s got a work thing at the moment but hopefully she wraps up soon and I can take her out for some fun for a bit. I’ll see you tonight,” he said.

“Later, Jay,” you said, getting a wave from him as he walked out. You poured the milk into your bowl and took out your phone, dialing and hearing a ring tone a few times.

“Hello?” the other end answered.

“Hi, Jake? This is Y/N Y/L/N. I was wondering if you were still interested in the manager position? If you are, you are in for a fun first day with that restaurant photo.”

“Mmm. Smells great in here,” hummed Jensen when he walked into the kitchen that evening. Your mom smiled and immediately rushed over, Jensen tensing up as she gave him a hug.

“Mom. Don’t bug Jensen,” you said.

“It’s alright,” he said, noticing your brothers were nowhere to be found. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Y/L/N.”

“Oh his arms are even bigger than you said! He’s handsome too,” she said. You rolled your eyes as you worked over the pot at the stove, Chuck turning around beside you and chuckling. “Jensen, this is my husband, Chuck.”

“Nice to meet you sir,” said Jensen, holding out a hand.

“You know everything about us already, don’t you,” he said as he shook it.

“Pretty much,” said Jensen. “Y/N’s safety is important and knowing about her family is part of that.”

“Well we certainly feel a lot better with her hiring someone. We’ve never been fans of her living alone,” he said.

“Y/N is quite capable. I’m just here to stop those situations from ever happening,” said Jensen.

“You will be joining us to eat, won’t you? Y/N and Chuck are making us dinner,” said your mom.

“That’s very kind of you mam but-”

“I insist,” she said.

“Just let it go Jensen,” you said. “This’ll be done soon if you want to tell the guys.”

Your parents headed outside, Jensen taking up Chuck’s spot beside you and stirring the cooked vegetables in the pan.

“None of them have any idea about the fake kidnapping or anything else, do they.”

“Nope. Nothing besides what happened last night. Michael and Nick know about the manager thing but that’s it. I’d prefer to keep it that way,” you said. The timer went off and Jensen got it, pushing some of the food around with a wooden spoon.

“They won’t hear anything from me,” he said. “Smells delicious.”

“Thanks. How’d it go with your sister?”

“Good. I need to discuss something with you later after your family is gone for the night.”

“Everything alright?” you asked.

“We’ll talk about it later,” he said, the back door opening. “Let’s dig in while it’s hot.”

“Jensen,” you said, finding him out by the pool that night, his feet soaking in the water. “My folks and the wonder twins are gone for the night.”

“Wonder twins,” he chuckled. “They act differently when your parents are around.”

“You picked up on that huh.”

“It’s pretty obvious,” he said. You sat beside him and stuck your feet in, Jensen leaning back on his palms.

“What’s going on big guy?”

“Are you asking as my boss or my friend?”

“Friend,” you said, bumping his shoulder. “What’s up?”

“My sister wasn’t too happy to see big brother on the news nearly getting shot at. She asked me to consider a different line of work,” he said.

“Oh,” you said.

“Yeah. I’m not quitting, just so you know. A random guy running from the cops doesn’t scare me. Only reason I was on the news was cause of you,” he said.

“There’s a but in there somewhere though.”

“No, not really,” he said. “Just wanted to talk to you about it.”

“So there’s no problem.”

“I like when there’s no problems,” he chuckled. “My job is a lot easier when it’s simple like that.”

“You still have your gun on you.”

“Precaution,” he said. He sat up and took it out from behind his back. “You ever shoot one?”

“Pretend but real no, I haven’t. Can I hold it?” you asked. He set it in your hands, watching you look it over for a moment.

“You’ve had gun training,” he said.

“First season went through a lot of that stuff on the show. We get refreshers,” you said. “Colt?”

“Yes it is,” he said. “You use a glock on your show I believe.”

Your head popped up and he laughed.

“Yes, even I do occasionally watch TV. Nice gun safety. You never leave your finger on the trigger.”

“Not supposed to, even with a fake gun they taught us,” you said. You lifted it up and held it out, finding it to be heavier than the one you were used to. “I like the grip.”

“You’d probably like a smaller Colt, fit your hands better,” he said. You handed it back to him and he tucked it away. “You see where the safety was on it?”

“Yeah?” you said. He reached behind himself and took your hand, guiding it to the back holster.

“If I can’t use this, grips on the right side. Take it out, flick off the safety, point and squeeze. It’s that simple.”

“I sincerely hope I never have to put that into practice,” you said as he dropped your hand. Your finger brushed against his back, Jensen frozen solid before you pulled away.

“Any day I don’t have to touch it is a good one,” he said, your hand settling back in your lap. “That...tickled was all.”

“Green beans and tickling. You got some funny forms of kryptonite, Ackles,” you said.

“Beats actual kryptonite,” he said. “Been awhile since I’ve been tickled.”

“I bet you like it. Being able to feel vulnerable and safe with someone.”

“Doesn’t everyone?”

Your feet kicked in the water, a smile growing on your face. He bumped your shoulder and your turned your head. He looked different, a softness about him.

“Are you happy?” you asked.

“What?”

“Are you happy? I...I don’t want you to feel like you have to choose this job over other things in life, like a relationship. You can have both, Jensen.”

“I’m lost.”

“I’m just saying...you can have a girlfriend and be my bodyguard. You don’t have to pick one or the other.”

“Girls get jealous,” he said. “In my experience. The hours are crap. The inconsistent schedule. I’m too…”

“Too what?”

“Last girlfriend I had...I can’t believe I’m telling you this.” He rubbed the back of his neck and you lightly nudged his foot in the water. “She thought I was too broken for a normal relationship.”

“What?”

“I should have kept my mouth shut,” he mumbled. He started to stand but you grabbed his arm, Jensen sighing and turning to you. “What? I think she might have had a point.”

“I think that was horrible of her to say and I’m sorry she never saw the real you cause him? He is so not broken.”

“You have this perfect image of me. Strong and capable. Dominant. Alpha. In charge, gives no fucks. That’s the bodyguard. That’s not me.”

“I know. I know Jensen likes being tickled,” you said. He rolled his eyes but you caught his chin, Jensen swallowing. “I know he likes the touch of soft fleece and expensive navy boxer briefs. I know he likes classic rock and sleeping in and likes two cream, one sugar in his coffee. I know he talks to his parents every Thursday night for at least an hour. I know he’s quiet around people he doesn’t know and I know he opens up when he’s well and truly comfortable with someone. I know he’s kind and I know he has nightmares sometimes. I know he can play the piano and guitar and he sings in the shower when he’s happy and he checks on me at night and puts my blankets back on me and doesn’t say a word about it, even when I thought he hated me.”

“You pay attention to me,” he said quietly. “Even though you don’t like me around.”

“I don’t like the bodyguard. He’s okay sometimes but a bit much all the time. But Jensen...him I like. I like him alot.”

“You don’t know what I’ve done. What’s been done to me.”

“You’re not broken, Jensen. I’m never going to believe that so don’t even try.”

He put a hand on the back of your neck, pulling you in close, so close you could feel his breath on your face.

“You’re supposed to tell me I’m screwed up. We’re not supposed to be friends. Don’t you understand that?” he said. Your nose pressed against his, green eyes locked on yours.

“I don’t think I’ll ever understand that,” you said. “What do you want?”

“I can’t have what I want,” he breathed out.

“You might be wrong about that. Actually, I’m positive you are,” you said, his hand sliding up a few inches into your hair. “Stop being scared and just tell me what you want.”

He leaned in the last inch between you, gentle lips connecting with yours. He didn’t move for a few seconds, eyes opening when he inched away just slightly. You stared at him and you saw him get the message, another kiss landing on your lips, his free hand sliding around your back. Your arms went over his shoulders, Jensen leaving kitten kisses on you before connecting roughly, giving your whole body a squeeze.

“Bedroom,” you breathed out. He moved back long enough to take his feet out of the water. He hoisted you up and carried you inside, your arms and legs wrapped around him as you returned to kissing him. There was a light scratch from the stubble on his jaw and you tugged on his bottom lip, Jensen pausing as he tried to shut the door behind him with one hand.

You took the opportunity to tease him, kissing under his jaw while he got the back door shut and locked, his hand slapping the alarm system and the little ping saying it was armed. He arched his neck back and spun around, pushing you up against the wall. You squeezed him tighter, getting gentle bites along your collar bone.

He tore the two of you away and rushed you upstairs, stepping up onto your bed and walking forward on his knees until he could lower you down to your back. His eyes looked darker but playful as he moved up and leaned over you.

“Condom?” he asked.

“I’m on medication,” you said. “You clean?”

“Yeah,” he said.

“Same.”

“Good cause I really don’t think I can wait any longer to do this,” he said. He tore off his shirt and you immediately shot your hands up to his chest, running your fingers down it.

“You’re so damn hot,” you said. He rolled off the bed and dropped his pants, giving you time to get your shirt off. By the time your head wasn’t covered, you had a perfect view of his ass, creamy and perky. Your bra went off quickly, Jensen turning around and making you pause.

“What?” he asked, glancing down at himself and then you.

“Lucky me,” you said. He smirked and you kicked off your shorts and underwear, Jensen crawling back on the bed and hovering over you. You kissed him and he planted his forearm by your head, his other hand trailing down to your breast. He kneaded the flesh gently, swiping a thumb over the bud and getting a tiny gasp out of you. He teased the same nipple with light touches and twists before working the other one over.

By the time his hand made its way between your folds you were soaking wet already.

“How do you want it?” he murmured against your lips, circling your clit lightly with his thumb.

“Want what?” you asked, arching your hips up into his touch.

“Slow. Fast. What do you like?” he asked, kissing your jaw as your breath hitched.

“Show me how you’ve imagined this going,” you said. He smiled and you felt the head of his cock brush you folds. He teased the head against your clit a few times before you reached down and were guiding him into your hole.

He was a smidge thicker than you were expecting and his length was perfect, solid, long but not too much. He surprised you by wrapping his arms around you pulling you to sit up on his lap, your legs hanging around his waist. He thrust his hips up and you bit your bottom lip, landing back down on him. He moved again and hit your g-spot, your jaw dropping.

“That’s the spot,” he murmured, kissing you as he started a slow and steady rhythm. You hung on for the ride, his hands on your thighs, thick cock pumping into you over and over and over again. You’d been able to play on your own and hit that spot but never with a guy, never had that low pressure simmering in your core.

God it was going to fucking destroy you when it hit.

You couldn’t wait.

You smiled as your nerves tingled, Jensen kissing you all over, his grip strong but everything else soft and gentle. His hair started to dampen with sweat and and you felt a layer cover your body, the steady pace getting you both closer.

He was nipping at your shoulder when you rolled your hips, Jensen grunting lowly and burying his face in your neck. That was a sound you could definitely do with more of and you did the motion again, Jensen pushing you onto his cock this time. You both moaned, Jensen’s slow pace picking up just a hair.

You were rolling your hips when his tip pounded inside of you and the low pressure started to explode inside you. You gasped and weren’t even sure what the hell kind of sound you’d made, suddenly aware of hot wetness filling you up. Jensen tensed up and slowly started to stop moving, your breath finally coming back to you as he stilled. He dropped his forehead on your shoulder and panted, your hands running up and down his back, playing with his hair some.

You giggled, Jensen letting out one himself and you swore your heart couldn’t have melted any faster. You picked your head up as he did, giving him a long kiss. He rested his forehead on your own, a smile dancing across his face.

“That was the best sex of my fucking life,” you said. He smiled hard and lowered you back down to the bed, holding up a finger. He pulled out and took a few shaky steps before going into your bathroom. He returned with a washcloth, wiping you clean. He tossed it back in the bathroom before he bent down to his pants. You frowned, Jensen looking back as he unclipped his holster from his belt. He walked it over to the unused nightstand and set it on top before he slid next to you. You pushed the covers back and slid under the sheet together, Jensen rolling you close to him and up against his chest.

“I don’t hookup,” he said.

“Okay,” you said. You shut your eyes and burrowed in a bit closer, Jensen pulling you to use his chest as a pillow. “I really liked that. It was fun.”

“We should do it again sometime,” he said. He turned his head and you smiled, Jensen moving a stray piece of hair away from your cheek.

“I would be much safer if you slept close by, wouldn’t I?” you asked coyly, Jensen already seeing through it.

“Oh yes, much safer.”

“Maybe you should sleep in here from now on...for safety.”

“In the name of safety, for sure,” he said, kissing your temple. “Real talk for a second. If this is just a hookup for you can you let me now over-”

You put a hand over his mouth and stared at him, slowly moving it away and giving him a kiss.

“I like you, Jensen. I really like you.”

He smiled and took your hand, laying it over his chest so you were holding him.

“Goodnight,” you said, kissing his shoulder.

“Night, Y/N,” he said, lightly dancing his fingers over your hip. “Sleep good.”

_______

A/N: Read Part 6 here!

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