#it's WAY too long for me to be hopeful that she'll get back home for the banquet | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

httpsserene · 8 months

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ʜᴛᴛᴘꜱꜱᴇʀᴇɴᴇ'ꜱ ꜰ1 ᴋɪɴᴋᴛᴏʙᴇʀ ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪᴀʟ

ᴜᴘʟᴏᴀᴅ 1 : ᴄʜᴀʀʟᴇꜱ ʟᴇᴄʟᴇʀᴄ / ᴍᴀx ᴠᴇʀꜱᴛᴀᴘᴘᴇɴ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ |ᴄᴏʀʀᴜᴘᴛɪᴏɴ ᴋɪɴᴋ

📖ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: innocent and virgin !reader has never touched herself before. she knows how to, in theory, but whenever she tries, she chickens out. her tried and true way of receiving pleasure is failing her. she thinks that maybe it's time to allow her relationship with her two respectful and experienced boyfriends, to reach the next step. and she'll find that they're very willing to teach her a few things. 📖ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: 18+ only. smut. corruption kink. orgasm delay/denial. praise kink. dom/sub undertones. hair-pulling. possessiveness. slight choking (glimpse and you miss it?). brief reference to previous dub-con (very minuscule, not charles or max). no penetrative sex. 📖ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 8k words 📖ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: charles leclerc / max verstappen x fem!black!reader 📖ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: oneshot 📖ꜱᴏᴜɴᴅᴛʀᴀᴄᴋ: all mine • brent faiyaz

ᴘʀᴇꜰᴀᴄᴇ: the strength i had to summon to post this is something crazy. it's my first smut fic if you can believe it or not, but the way i feel exposed to the world is wild. i almost forgot to include the actual kink because i got carried away, but it's there i promise you, don't get disappointed too early in! can confirm that while i was writing this i had to take several breaks and stare at the ceiling. the black!reader is vague i think, it's not noticeable until the end, but i had written it with all shades of my poc girlies in mind < 3. n e ways: hope you guys like it!

want to be added to my f1 kinktober taglist? or my general tag list? send me an ask!

huge thanks to my beta readers @lorarri and @sweetpiccolo-blog ! i appreciate y'all so much :)

cross-posted on my ao3, htpsss

here's the link to the masterlist for my f1 kinktober special, and send me a private message if you would like to be added to the list to become a beta reader in the future!!!

it’s late. you’ve kicked jimmy and sassy out of the bedroom, and locked it shut. you’re standing with your back pressed against the door, staring with unfocused eyes. you moved your stuffed animals inside the closet and had them facing the wall even though you closed the closet door. the window curtains are drawn shut, and the only light in the room is the warmth of one nightstand lamp. one of the plushest towels max owns is spread across the bed. in the center lays a single pillow.

this is the last chance you have to get off before max and charles get home in a few hours. they’ve been gone for a triple-header, and you haven’t been able to orgasm once in the near month they’ve been gone. you’ve become depraved enough to consider buying a vibrator, but all packages delivered to this apartment have to be approved by max or charles to be sent up, and you’re definitely not bold enough to go out and buy one (and risk being seen by one of their fans or have to physically talk to someone to buy one).

the obvious thing to do would be to talk to your boyfriends, and tell them that you’re ready to start exploring the sexual side of your relationship. you’ve been dating them for two years now, and you’re afraid that they’re getting tired of waiting for you to be comfortable enough to have sex with them. but, you’re also afraid that once they learn how inexperienced you really are—they’ll make fun of you, leave you, and find some other woman who knows how to please them. you know that’s outrageous and never going to happen. they’re the sweetest boys you’ve ever dated (way better than that one dude you dated who tried to get you wasted enough to persuade you into having sex with him), and they’ve been very respectful concerning your boundaries. always pulling away when they feel themselves getting hard, and constantly reminding you to tell them to stop if you feel uncomfortable and that there’s nothing wrong with that, and that they’re willing to wait as long as you need, and will continue loving you regardless even if you decide to never have sex with them. so—of course you know that they won’t be assholes about your innocence—it’s just your own self-esteem, insecurity, and overthinking that prevents you from saying you’re ready.

you make a deal with yourself. if you can’t manage to get off grinding against your pillow one last time, you’ll force yourself to sit down with your boyfriends, stare them in the eyes and state that your ready to have sex. who are you kidding—you’re going to get off right now one way or another even if it kills you, because you definitely will wither away and die if you have to have that conversation with your boyfriends.

you walk over to the bed, heart beginning to race as you start playing one of those curated “songs i’d like to be railed to” playlists, before throwing your phone somewhere up the bed. you move to straddle the pillow, and begin to calm your heartbeat. you take a few deep breaths and let your mind wander. the first thought that comes to your head is the goodbye kiss you got from your boyfriends before they left.

they had gotten all their luggage together and were pulling on their shoes at the entryway. charles was pouting at you, wide green eyes and all, “you are sure that you don’t want to come with us? for at least one of the races? we’ll be gone for almost a—“

“yes, cha. i’m sure,” you cut him off with a firm nod, “lemme give you a kiss before you leave, okay?”

charles frowned at max who laughed—like he wasn’t the one begging you to come with them last night before you all went to bed. with a little upset ‘hmph’ charles leaned down and kissed you softly. you had pulled away, only trying to give him a peck, and charles grunted disapprovingly. one of his veiny hands rose and gripped at your waist over your t-shirt, strongly pulling you forward, causing you to tumble into his chest. “oh, i am going to need more than that, mon ange,” charles smirked down at you, “i am leaving for so long, and that’s the goodbye kiss you’re leaving me with? no, i do not think so.”

you glanced away from him, cheeks beginning to become warm as you make to hide your face is his broad chest. charles tutted at you, tightening his grip on your waist, and his other hand gently pushed your head up to look at him, “c’mere and give me a real kiss, pretty girl.”

you made a suppressed little squeal in the back of your throat, a noise max and charles became very familiar with, often present when they start teasing you. you surprisingly leaned up and initiated the kiss, causing charles to let out a shocked gasp into your mouth. his hand on your waist moved lower, falling to the small of your back and pushed your body completely against his. his other hand caressed your jaw, soothing you enough to allow him to control the kiss, as he flicked his tongue at the seam of your lips. you shakily sighed, allowing him entrance and the kiss deepened, a pleased humming noise in the back of your throat escaping.

you impatiently shift side to side on top of the pillow, not yet allowing yourself to get any friction. sliding both of your hands underneath your sweater—well, max’s sweater, and you start playing with your chest. flicking gently at your nipples, just the way you like.

you could feel charles chuckle into the kiss, but you dismiss it, and keep kissing at him eagerly. however, you failed to recognize that he wasn’t laughing at you, he was laughing at max. cockily making eye-contact with him, before he let his eyes flutter shut and devoted his attention to you.

max stared on, his mouth slightly open as he watched his two loves give him a show for free. charles’ hand slipped lower, gliding over your ass, across your criminally well-fitted jeans, and found its home on the back of your thigh. max is well acquainted with how skilled charles’ mouth is, so he knows he must have done something spectacular to cause a choked-off moan to escape you, your hand raised to grab at charles’ polo in a fist, wrinkling the pressed shirt. max huffed, deciding to no longer spectate, and took the few steps to reach you across the foyer.

you let out a shocked gasp, eyes fluttering open in surprise at the feeling of your other boyfriend pressed up against your back. you attempt to break the kiss, but charles doesn’t let you. hand slipping from your cheeks to the nape of your neck, tangling in the hairs there and keeping you exactly where he wants. one of max’s hands came to rest at your hip, while the other rested on your navel. your eyes fell shut again in pleasure at how charles gently nipped at your bottom lip, and max’s presence is pushed to the back of your mind.

you didn’t register max’s hand disappearing from your abdomen, but suddenly, the air was cut with a pained moan from charles and his lips were ripped away from yours.

your eyes flew open, and max’s hand was buried in charles’ hair, tugging his head backward and maneuvering it into what must be an almost uncomfortable angle, but with how pleased charles looked—you wanted to feel it too. his eyes rolled backwards, before he pressed them shut and re-opened them to reveal dilated pupils and half-lidded lashes; panting hard, lips covered with your shared spit, and a fucked-out look in his eyes.

you struggle to pull off your sleeping shorts, eventually managing to tug them off to reveal your white cotton panties. your hand leaves your breast to touch at your heat, and you’re shocked at how wet you’ve gotten already. you use that same hand to adjust your pillow, before you let your hips fall all the way and make contact with the pillow. you sigh in relief.

now, max is the one to laugh with his hand firmly keeping charles in place. “oh, you know better than to tease me charlie…” he started, and you barely heard him. fixated on the way charles’ tongue frequently slips out to lick at his lips, but you could hear the smirk max was wearing.

“and you’re also not the only one leaving our sweet girl for a month. you should be nice and let me have a taste too, hm? isn’t that right, schatje?” he directs at charles. max’s other hand made its way up your abdomen, copping a feel at your chest, before it rested across your throat. he wasn’t squeezing at all, but the weight of his hand, how it spans across your neck, and how you can feel the strength lying underneath his skin, caused you to lose your breath. he guided your head back and dropped his to get his own goodbye kiss.

the kiss felt like it lasted for a lifetime, but realistically it had to be less than a minute of max forcing charles to watch how he ravaged your mouth, before charles started whining loudly. max patted your neck gingerly before pulling away and laughing at charles’ teary eyes. your legs were trembling and you were pretty sure if max wasn’t behind you, you would’ve fallen long ago. in one smooth motion, his hand fell to the monegasque’s throat from his hair and pulled him closer, completely sandwiching you between them, as their lips met in a wild kiss.

your hips start to rock against the pillow, keeping it slow in the beginning, learning your lesson about friction burn the last time you got too erratic with your moves too quickly.

charles—completely desperate—whined deep in his throat and max kept pulling consistently depraved moans and grunts out of your boyfriend. max’s other hand moved off of your hip to smack at charles’, a nonverbal command for him to calm down and let max take care of him. you felt charles practically vibrating against you in need, but he slowly started to calm; his posture slackening and lips slowing, allowing the dutch full control.

the two of them were completely ignoring you. caught in their own world, putting all of their energy into their kisses, and in turn gave you a front row seat to something you're never going to forget about. you felt so small in between the two of them, like the only thing that kept you from floating away is the fact that you were stuck in between their bodies.

eventually, max released his grip on charles and separated from the kiss, giving charles air to breathe. the blonde stepped backwards away from your body, and you stumbled embarrassingly. max’s hands went up to hover around your waist (suddenly so shy to touch you) to make sure you actually didn't fall. charles shook his head, physically trying to clear the haze in his mind before he stumbled away from you as well, pressing his back against the wall.

his chest was heaving with exertion, cheeks flushed a pretty red color, while his hands went to tug at his uncomfortably tight pants, failing to adjust himself to make his erection less obvious. he suddenly turns shy as well—it probably doesn’t help that max was laughing at how easy he is to turn on—, and charles tries to try and tug his shirt down to cover up his problem as best as he can.

your hips start to pick up in speed, movements more sure and less shaky. the friction between the cotton pillowcase and panties is multiplied on your cunt, and when you rock down deep enough, the catch of the panties on your clit is nearly immobilizing.

thinking about the moment before your boys left leads you into fantasizing about their dynamic, and how they are in the bedroom. that morning alone proved who was actually in charge; charles will tease and take whatever he can, as long as max allows him to. you can recall many instances of max guiding a well-fucked charles out of the bedroom and depositing him on your lap, before he went on to clean up and run the monegasque a bath.

the multiple post-sex facetimes you’ve gotten from the two when they’re across the world always starts with max softly speaking, “i’ve worn him out pretty good, but he refuses to fall asleep unless he gets to call you.” and the phone is passed to charles, who’s voice and lips are ruined to hell and you have to decipher what he’s attempting to say.

you’re starting to acclimate to the current tempo, so you pick it up another notch. you lean forward, bracing your hands on the bed for support as you focus on doing deeper and slower grinds against the pillow, allowing your clit to get constant attention.

you find comfort in the fact that charles allows max to take him to such a vulnerable state, and sometimes—you even find yourself getting jealous. you started joining them to see their aftercare for yourself, and found out that you're aching to be taken apart and put back together like max and charles do to each other.

the sound of max’s constant praises of charles being “so good for him,” and charles’s constant stream of “thank you, thank you, maxy” has you losing all train of thought.

you abandon the slow-and-steady technique, you’ve tried it several times this month and it’s failed to get you to come. you bite your lip, letting out a frustrated groan. your hips slow, and you grab the front of the pillow with one hand and pull it upwards, hoping that a tighter space allows better friction. you start moving quicker, doing smaller more shallow motions and it’s tons better. you can’t stop thinking that it would be even better to ride charles’ face.

even though your eyelids are scrunched shut, the thousands of tiktok edits you’ve seen of your boyfriends post-race; balaclava lines, sweaty, messy hair, and all—are playing behind them. you moan out desperately, toes curling in your socks. you hear the phantom noises of monegasque moans along with the imagined whispers of dutch-accented praises.

the knot in your navel tightens, your thighs begin to tremble, and you can feel yourself clenching around nothing. this is it, the feeling that’s escaped you for a month, it’s returning, you can finally come.

you start to rut against the pillow, uncaring of how your wetness has seeped into the pillow cover and sticks against your thighs—if anything, it’s just another pleasant sensation. unfiltered squeals and gasps start slipping out, you’re too blissed out to regulate your volume at this point.

but then, a minute passes and you still haven’t fallen over the precipice. it’s right there; you can see it, you can even hear it, but you can’t fucking feel it.

your moans of pleasure turn into cries of frustration. your legs start to quiver with exhaustion, and the orgasm you almost had fades. tears spill from your eyes, as you frantically rut against the soaked pillow, not caring about rhythm or technique anymore. and your chance is gone, your sobs echoing around the room at another failed attempt.

you climb off the pillow and fall on your side, crying into the towel trying to muffle your anguished noises. you have the fleeting thought to think that you're overreacting, but fuck that. you’ve literally been unwillingly denying yourself for a month.

after you’ve cried yourself out, you get up and start to clean up the mess you made. when you lean down to pick up the shorts you flung across the room, you hear jimmy and sassy start yowling outside of the room. and faintly, you hear the front door open.

fuck.

a giggle slips out of charles as the cries of the cats are heard outside of the apartment door. max shoots a glare at charles for laughing at his children, before he loses the fight and a smile slips out in response to the monegasque’s. finally managing to slip the key into the lock, max speaks, “we’re supposed to surprise her by being early, cha—maybe we should’ve let the cat’s know when we called earlier today?” they step through the threshold, quickly shutting the door behind them so the cats won’t run out. charles makes a questioning hum as they both start slipping out their jackets, “they are cats, mon minou. i do not think they care about anything other than when you come back to feed them.”

max side eyes him heavily as he squats down to untie his sneakers, and looks around slightly confused, “i think we are missing a greeting from one more kitten, wouldn't you say, charles?” the man in question nods in agreement, while finally petting jimmy and sassy to calm them down a little bit. whenever the two of them return home, you usually race to the door along with the cats. you give them warm hugs and sweet kisses, help them take their jackets off, and let them know if you cooked a meal for them, or prepared a bath.

but tonight, they don’t hear the sound of your footsteps coming towards them. it’s rare for them not to be greeted at the door, most of the time you beat them to unlocking it, with the alarm system the cats provide.

charles questions, “maybe she fell asleep? we did not tell her that we moved our flight earlier. and we did tell her to go to bed because we would be arriving late.”

max snorts disbelievingly, “when has she ever gone to bed when we’ve told her to,” he starts, “she’s probably just in the bathroom or something.”

the two spend a few minutes paying some attention to the cats, before they begin to get suspicious at the fact that you still haven’t come to welcome them back. they straighten up and start heading towards the bedroom.

max pushes the door open, and everything looks normal except for the fact that you’re nowhere to be seen. the bed is put together, one nightstand lamp is on, and the bathroom is empty. max and charles stare at each other with matching baffled expressions, before you clear your throat in the doorway.

max jumps, “shit!” and charles flinches, “oh, what the fuck!”

your giggles reverberate through the air, and the two men can only laugh along with you. “oh? so you find scaring us funny, schat?” max teases gently. you pad over to him, throwing your arms around his neck to pull him in for a tight hug, nodding softly into his neck as you breathe him in. charles huffs after he’s deemed that you spent too much time loving on max before he pulls you into his own grasp, one arm braced tightly around your waist while his other hand cradles the back of your head resting in his chest. “she’s absolutely frightening, max, can’t you tell?” he teases back, defending you jokingly.

max hums, “definitely. where were you hiding, baby?”

you freeze for second as you pull away from charles’ grasp, before stuttering your way through an explanation, “u-uh oh, i was-um, i was just in the laundry room! i was just putting a few things i had accidentally spilled uh- spilled juice on-yes juice of course, in the uh-washing machine, yes,” you nod firmly, to fully convince them.

the monegasques raises an eyebrow at you and dragged out an, “…….okay, i guess?” max follows up with a sarcastic, “yeah….we definitely believe you!”

you narrow your eyes at him, “are you calling me a liar, max? because, why would i lie about—“

charles cuts you off, turning your head back towards him as he squints at your face. he runs his thumb underneath one of your eyes, and speaks softly, “were you crying, mon ange? your eyes are red and swollen.”

you shake your head rapidly to attempt to dismiss his worry but it’s already too late. max practically teleports to your side and scans your face and with a gasp he reveals, “yes, you did cry. i can still see the tears stained on your cheeks.”

you shift uncomfortably, “yes, okay! i did cry! but it was nothing serious,” you pause and mumble the last part of your sentence, “i was just overreacting anyways, it doesn’t matter.”

max smacks his teeth at you disapprovingly, “hey, don’t be mean to yourself, schatje. anything that causes you to cry does matter. tell us, and we can try and make it better for you.” the two boys wear you down with earnest eyes; the monegasque brushes his lips against your hand comfortingly and the dutchman tucks your hair behind your ears soothingly. they wait patiently and don’t attempt to push you any further, but there’s an unspoken understanding between the two of them; they won’t let this go until you explicitly ask them two. and suddenly, your resistance falls and words start rushing out of your mouth.

“im so tired, okay? i’ve been trying for ages, ages, and i can’t get there! everytime i try, i-i-it’s like i’m right there–right there! and then it never comes! it’s torture. the harder i try to reach for it, the more it slips away, and then it doesn’t even feel good anymore! i thought this was supposed to feel good–and now what’s the point?! i don’t even wanna try again if i’m just going to be–”

“woah, woah, woah.” max cuts you off, “what are we talking about exactly, schatje? have you not been getting enough sleep or something? because we can try and–" you interrupt, “NO! i haven’t came in a MONTH! are you even listening to me?!”

charles chokes on his own breath and max damn near faints. most importantly, they’re shaken at your bluntness around the topic; every time they try to ask if you’ve been finding…relief–for lack of a better word, you tend to snap shut if they use any ‘explicit’ words with you– you tell them not to worry about it. so, to hear you say it plainly reveals how much distress this has been causing you. secondly, the thought that you’ve been desperately trying to get off for a month on your own, is a paralyzing thought. they nearly convinced themselves that you had no idea about anything sexual due to your refusal to answer any of their questions—which there would be nothing wrong with, they’d be happy to teach you how to please them and them alone. it’s a seductive thought, the fact that you’re untouched, that no man has had the opportunity to taint you and ruin your perspective on how you should receive and give pleasure. they’ve been praying for the day you’d be ready to let them teach you how to be good for them. maybe that makes them monsters, for taking advantage of your naivety and innocence, and molding you into their perfect girl, but they stopped feeling guilty for desiring this long ago.

you seem to have missed the fact that you sent their minds reeling and continue venting, “i don’t know what to do, maxy! i’ve been doing the same thing, and it’s NEVER failed me before. it’s cruel that it stopped working when you guys left me for more than a month! no matter how i did it–if i did the exact same things i’ve always been doing, or tried something new, nothing worked! i was literally just considering buying a fucking vibrator! a vibrator, charles, i’d rather run naked in the street than buy that online and have to put in this delivery address–”

charles gently presses finger against your mouth, shushing you. he pulls you into a deep hug, rubbing a hand up and down the length of your back , the motion pacifying you. he hums, and it vibrates through his chest to yours, “mmm, we’re home now, mon ange. there’s no need to run in the streets naked–” “definitely not,” max jumps in, reacting possessively at the implication of other people seeing you undressed. charles rolls his eyes and continues (like he’s not just as jealous as max), “or buy a vibrator. i know it must be so frustrating, to not cum,” you gasp softly, “especially when you’ve been edging yourself accidentally for so long, hm?”

a questioning sound slips from your lips, “hm? what’s edging? i just haven’t,” your voice drops to a whisper, “cum.” max thinks that he’s seriously fucked-up in the head, because he watches how you bury your face into charles’s chest after your whispered word, refusing to make eye contact with them out of embarrassment; and relishes at the fact that you absolutely have no idea about what exactly you’ve been doing to yourself. he’s going to enjoy ruining teaching you everything he knows.

“edging is repeated instances of sexual stimulation and stopping before your orgasm. it’s called that because you are kept ‘on the edge.’ you can do it to yourself or with others,” max states in an unfazed manner. he sees you start to relax, knowing that you find comfort in his matter-of-fact tone.

a pout lowers your lips, “who would enjoy that? it feels terrible.”

max breaks out in a grin, slipping an arm around charles and squeezing at his tapered waist, “you know somebody who enjoys it very much, liefje,” charles blushes at the sudden call out, and watches the way your eyes widen in shock. max continues, “anyways, you may find that you enjoy it when it’s done properly—with people who are experienced enough to make sure you’re feeling good and keep you feeling good… and show you how to have a proper orgasm, hm?” max segways into the important topic, not allowing you to deflect any longer.

charles stops your attempt at hiding in his broad shoulder this time around, and firmly holds your face to keep you facing max. the dutch give charles a nod of appreciation and watches how he shifts on his feet at the acknowledgement; he might have to take care of him after he’s done with you, too. max allows your eyes to avoid meeting his, letting them roam his face as you battle your own insecurity.

“liefje,” max deepens his tone, knowing how you melt at any pitch similar to his morning voice, “there is no need to be embarrassed about your virginity and innocence. you had your boundaries set, and never bent or broke them to make someone happy at the cost of your comfort. no matter how much pressure someone applied to you, you refused to let them have you in one of the most vulnerable positions you could ever be in because you felt unsure or plainly uncomfortable with them. that is something you should take pride in and no one should make a joke out of your virginity for that instance. tonight, you can still make that decision if you are not completely sure on allowing charles and i the privilege of teaching you how to feel satisfied. we will continue to wait for you; you have the power here, not charles or i. do what is best for you at this moment, and if that changes, tell us so, and we will continue or stop at your will.”

the room is silent as the three of you digest max’s spiel. charles and max seem to be completely nonchalant about the matter, but they are trying to hide how anxious they are about your possible refusal, for your sake. of course they are hoping that you’ll accept their helping hands, or lips, or tongues, or coc—but, that’s not their main intention tonight. the goal is for them to start building a deeper level of understanding and trust with you, to where you allow yourself to be in your most vulnerable state with them. and that will take time; they’re not expecting you to completely reveal your innermost workings to them instantaneously. however, they most definitely want to show you how good they can make you feel and how good you can make them feel. and once you internalize that, then they can start working on showing you the wonders of sex—or plainly put, they can start tainting you.

you nod. charles eyes brighten and his cheeks dimple with the appearance of a wild smile. he leans in to kiss you in thanks, but max halts him with one finger to the forehead and a quick ‘aht aht,’ “that won’t do, liefje, i need verbal confirmation—words, please.”

“y-you can…you can help s-show and teach me how to…how to feel good. i am ready to have…,” your voice thins out, and suddenly you shake your head, eyes meeting max’s straight on in an unusual act of confidence, clearing your throat, “i am ready for us to have—i’m ready for you to fuck me.”

max wasn’t exactly ready for that wording and faltered, a little shook. charles on the other hand has to struggle to refrain from laughter. at the mixed reaction, your bravado slips away, and you add, “please?” charles loses the laugh automatically; your timid but desperate widened brown doe eyes stare up at the two of them, flickering between them anxiously, plump lips parted with your tongue flicking out—he has a few ideas of something he can offer to keep that mouth of yours busy.

max rumbles in satisfaction, “see, that wasn’t so hard, was it pretty girl? we’ll work on that confidence of yours for sure—but, i have a few rules for you first before we get started. charles, why don’t you tell our girl the first two?”

“number one, always answer our questions with words; if you don’t, we’ll stop and wait for you to respond. two, if you feel uncomfortable at any point, tell us, and we’ll stop what we’re doing and make it better for you or stop completely if necessary,” charles answers assuredly.

you nod, and max raises an eyebrow at you, “i mean, yes!”

max praises you, “you’re already doing so good for us,” he watches your breath catch at the sentence and figures he may have another praise kink on his hands, “you wanna be a good girl and tell me what you were really doing before we came home?” your cheeks burn and your previous embarrassment returns full force, but you fight through it, not wanting to break the rules right off the bat.

“well, you remember how i said my usual method wasn’t working anymore? i wasn’t lying about that. i only g-get off when you guys leave, andidoitbygrindingonapillow—and i have to put down a towel before becauseimakeamess. so! i really was doing laundry, i just didn’t spill juice on it…i kinda, spilled on it.”

charles’ hands fall away from you in shock, and max really doesn’t know if he can handle another revelation like this from you without actually passing out. you continue to over-explain, “and i i-i didn’t even get to, y’ know (oh my god, she soaked the pillow without even cumming, max!), and i got that wet anyway…and i can’t really control it, but if you guys don’t like it i can try and—“

“NO!” “PLEASE DON’T!”

you flinch away, and they apologize heavily for their overreaction.

“please, don’t, mon ange. i can tell you that max and i aren’t ever going to hate what’s between your legs, or what comes from there,” charles suggests with a smirk, before his face shifts to a more blank state “wait. did…did you have a chance to change?” you hum a little “mm-mm” glancing down at yourself still clad in max’s sweater and cotton panties, “uhm. no, i was a little more concerned with cleaning up the bed before you guys saw it so—sorry, i’m not a little more presentable—“

“are you wearing the same panties, mon ange?”

you freeze, brain lagging at what the monegasque had noticed. “mhm, yeah,” you whisper softly, playing with the hem of the sweater self-soothingly.

“can i,” charles takes a deep breath, “can i touch you, mon coeur?”

you squeak, “yes please, charlie.”

max watches as charles places his massive hand on one of your thighs, spanning the front with no struggle, and gently caresses his hand up, slowly making his way up your thigh. charles taps two fingers gently against you, and you spread your legs a smidge wider, and the sound of your thighs peeling off one another from the stickiness you leaked, reverberates around the room. max can’t help but let a moan slip out. charles slides his hand in between your legs, both of your own hands fisting at the hem of your borrowed sweatshirt, and you gasp at the lightest touch of charles pointer and middle finger against your soaked panties. max sees charles pupils blow wide and mouth drop open in awe—and he can’t wait anymore.

max presses his front to your back, sandwiching you in between them once again, and impatiently asks, “schatje, can i?” you let out a breathy ‘yeah,’ and max doesn’t hesitate to bully his hand in between your legs as well. he cops a more generous feel of your cunt, and groans at the state of ruin your panties are in.

“liefje,” max starts, “walk with me to the bed, please.” max pulls away, and unfastens one of your hands from the sweater to guide you. you turn around stumbling through your first few steps—charles sets you upright more prepared for your legs becoming jello than you are, and helps you over to the bed, one hand firmly set on the small of your back. max sits on the edge of the bed, man spreading comfortably, and watches how your eyes automatically fall to stare at his thighs with a smirk. he glances at charles behind you, who mouths ‘can’t blame her’ with a smirk of his own. the dutch pats his lap, “c’mere and give me a kiss, pretty girl.”

you rush to sit in his lap, slowing at the last minute, not wanting to sit your full weight on him. he huffs, and grabs at your hips situating you firmly on his lap, before leaning in and kissing you stupid. your gasp of shock transforms into a hum of pleasure, letting max have complete control of the kiss. his hand comes up to rest on the back of your head and moves you exactly where he wants, sucking on your bottom lip before slipping his tongue against yours. max kisses like he’s going to run out of time, he ravishes you completely. you squirm against him, pulling away to pant against his cheek needing air. max chuckles, and you only get to whine at his teasing for half a second before charles, who’s now sitting next to max, pulls you into another kiss. charles, on the other hand, kisses like he has all the time in the world, he draws it out. he keeps the kisses slow and closed in the beginning, pausing to pull away and thumb at your lips, relishing at how they’ve already swelled from max’s abuse, the surrounding skin already beginning to turn raw and sensitive from their friction of their facial hair. he continues kissing you, all tongue and sloppy not caring about about the way your hands come up to grasp at his chest in desperation, before switching to absolutely bruise your lips by nipping and tugging at them.

your hips jump forward against max’s, and he can’t stop the groan that tumbles out. you jolt away from charles’ assault and stare at max with an embarrassed expression, “s-sorry—“ max narrows his eyes and dismisses your apology, “don’t apologize for that. you feel good, you’re allowed to show that unless i tell you differently.”

“yes, max,” you answer, even though he didn’t ask a question.

“oh, you’re such a good girl for us, liefje,” he tests. and his instincts didn’t fail him. your hips twitch against his again, and a near inaudible moan slips from your lips.

he turns towards charles, “yeah, that works doesn’t it, cha?” charles nods, eyes still stuck on your lips. max smirks at charles being completely entranced, before turning back to you and clocks the glaze beginning to form over your eyes, “alright now, liefje, i need you to pay attention to me really quickly, hm?”

you hum, bobbing your head a few times, before you manage to get out a “yes, max.”

he holds your head steady with his thumb and pointer finger gripping your chin, “i’m not going anywhere, baby, take your time and focus.” it only takes you half a minute to truly focus in after your heart stops racing to give him another verbal confirmation before he continues. “tonight, neither one of us is going to make love to you—“ your shoulders drop and a frown is quick to spread across your mouth. you really only prepared for the situation that you’d tell them you were ready, and then you’d get railed into next sunday. you start to panic; maybe you came off too depraved, and he’s letting you down slowly—

“hey, hey, hey. no overthinking yet, let him finish, mon ange,” charles calls out to you worriedly, he’s experienced the same thought process you're going through before and would rather try and prevent the self-doubt from overtaking you.

max pets at your waist over the sweater and continues, “not tonight. we’ve just gotten off a flight, and had three back to back races. it’s late, and i’m sure all three of us are tired. we should initiate something like that with a clearer mind,” you feel a little selfish now, his points very valid, “but, i still want to give you an orgasm, okay? sure, you may not be able to get off by grinding on a pillow anymore. you’ve probably just acclimated to it and need to give it a break. so, to compromise: you’ll get off by riding my thigh.”

charles and max wait for your reaction. your frown lightens into a pout, but you’re disappointment doesn’t completely fade away. “how is that any different from riding the pillow? it’s the same thing.” charles laughs shakily, “oh, mon ange. you have no idea. listen to max and give it a try before you take it off the table completely.”

you shrug, and agree, “fine. how do i….uh how do i do the thigh riding, i guess?”

charles turns to look at max, wordlessly asking for permission, and max grants it with a wave of his hand. charles scoots up closer, and shifts your straddle from max’s whole lap to his right thigh. as soon as your pantie-covered cunt firmly presses on the muscle of max’s jean-clad thigh, a soft ‘oh’ croaks out of you. max flexes and relaxes his thigh once and your hips jump up and away from him. max and charles glance at each other; you’re ridiculously sensitive, they’ll have to see if that’s your natural state or if it’s just the result of your prolonged edging and the fact that you were grinding against a pillow not too long ago. charles squeezes your hips, bringing your attention to him, “i’m going to start guiding you now, you ready, mon coeur?”

“mmm, yeah—that felt really good, i want more,” you speak timidly.

“good,” charles states, and then he pulls your hips forward dragging you against max’s thigh, and a flash of heat zings up your spine. you moan, a small, breathy exhale, and charles keeps it slow at first, not pushing you down to roughly or making the motions too quick—he wants you to learn to love the friction again. barely a minute passes before your hips start fighting charles’ guided rhythm, and a frustrated groan slips out of you, not able to fight your boyfriends grip. max clocks back in from where he was watching the pleasure start to flicker on your face and asks, “what are you supposed to do, baby?”

“more-ah, please, charlie,” you moan shakily. charles smirks, “look at you, still using your manners like a good girl—“ a louder moan echoes, “okay, okay, mon coeur. i’ll get you there, i’ll get you to cum like you need, okay? i’ll make you forget all about your manners too, hmm?”

you stopped listening to anything after charles reassured you that he’s going to get you to cum, you believe him. he adjusts his grip on your hips and starts incrementally increasing the pace and pressure for you. your moans start to become more frequent, and increasing in pitch rapidly, the drivers can tell you’re hurtling towards your long-awaited orgasm, sooner than they thought. charles slowly releases his grip on your waist letting your hips take over once he’s sure you’ve gotten the hang of it. you throw your head back in pleasure, your hips have a steady grind and…and you’re feeling good. a suprised laugh slips out of your lips at that and shifts into a sharp moan when max starts flexing his thigh rhythmically giving you a little more texture to work with. max lets his heavy hands fill in for where charles’ and presses you down into deeper slower strokes.

you cry out, it’s a little too much for you, but it feels so good, that you bear with it, they know what’s best for you, anyways. max grins down at you smugly, and you start to tear up a little; he can still feel your hips twitching away from the pressure sometimes. not wanting to push you too far with that motion alone, he lightens up on the pressure but starts bouncing his thigh. the shriek you release surprises all three of you, but you don’t run from it, if anything you lean into it more. one of your hands fists into charles’ shirt for support, and the other falls to max’s, tugging it off your left hip so you can hold it tight. max’s grin softens into a small smile and he kisses your joined hands, and charles leans into press kisses on your neck, praise slipping out of their lips freely.

“doing so good for us, pretty girl.”

“yeah, baby, that’s it. take what you need.”

“don’t be shy, let those sweet moans out for us.”

“just like that, oh! look at that, you’ve leaked all over his thigh,” charles points out. max looks down and registers that his pant leg is sticking down to his thigh and the denim has darkened with the amount of wetness. “oh, yeah. look at that, baby,” max pats on the side of your face, and you can’t even recall when you screwed your eyes shut, but you look down, and a mortified squeal leaves you. not much longer and you’ll have drowned his thigh. the dutchman sucks his teeth at you, “don’t be embarrassed, liefje. i can’t wait until i can taste it straight from the source,” he moves his other hand underneath the sweatshirt, and slips two fingers between your inner thigh while gathering your wetness. he sucks on one finger moaning explicitly at your taste, before offering both fingers to charles to clean off. the monegasque flicks his tongue out teasingly tasting them first, before he makes a quick motion of sucking them in and fully running his tongue in every crevice to get every last drop of your taste.

you moans start to become pitchy little ah-ah-ah’s, and you frantically start rabbiting your hips. you’re so close. max squeezes you hand, and starts up the praise again.

“i wasn’t joking, schatje. when i finally get my mouth on your pretty little cunt, you won’t be able to pull me off of you until i force at least three orgasms out of you.”

charles pulls off of max’s fingers and adds, “i need to give her three or four from my mouth too. i don’t think she’ll be able to handle that many.”

“yes, she can. she’s such a good girl for us, she’d let us keep going until we tell her when she’s done.”

“mmm, yeah—she’s right there, look at that cute little face she’s making.”

“her pretty little o-mouth, we should fill that up for her too.”

“thinkin i’ll fill that sweet little cunt of hers first with my dick—“

what escapes your mouth is definitely a scream, and max can’t bring himself to muffle it even though it’s the middle of the night. he pays a hefty sum of money for this penthouse, they can deal with hearing how charles and him make you scream with pleasure. your orgasm completely whites-out all of your senses; ears ringing, eyes rolled back, skin feeling raw and thighs shaking. max and charles work your hips back and forth a few more times, helping you with the aftershocks until you squirm out of their hands. you fall forward into max’s chest, body trembling, and tears streaming down your face.

max cradles you close and scratches at your head, calling your name a few times to get a gauge of how out of it you are. with no verbal response, he sends charles to get water and a towel to clean you up. max softly murmurs praises at you constantly, and charles joins in with the affirmations when he returns. the both clean you up when you’re still floating; they put you in an oversized tee, not bothering with undergarments, wiping all wetness and cream away from between your legs trying to avoid looking at your cunt directly, they even manage to get your bonnet on for you, and even have time to change the duvet before you start becoming aware again.

you turn and automatically move to snuggle into the crook of max’s neck, but he gently presses a straw to your mouth so you can hydrate after the amount of fluids you seem to have lost. your eyes open, and you croak out a disapproving hum at not being able to go to sleep, and max shakes his head at you, “drink, schat. non-negotiable, pretty girl.” after slowly draining ¾ of the bottle, you pull away and with a shattered voice, start mumbling, “thank you, thank you, thank you—“

and charles leans over to cut you off with a soft press of lips, “no, thank you for letting us give you that, mon coeur.” you hum, whispering out, “i love you, charlie. i love you, maxy.”

they both respond with resounding ‘i-love-you’s back, and start soft conversation just checking up on you before they let you fall asleep.

“i’ve never felt this good before from an orgasm,” you start, “i wanna—i wanna keep being good for you guys. i wanna learn how to feel good like this again, and i want you both to show me how because i trust you. please?”. charles and max both murmur affirmatives to you, and you continue speaking softly, “you guys can take showers now, i’ll probably be asleep before you come back.” after making sure you’re truly comfortable, max and charles head to the en-suite to take the world’s speediest shower so they can cuddle up with you sooner.

shutting the door, max and charles stare at each other in completely silence. charles starts, “are we sure that we’re the ones corrupting her and she’s not corrupting us? because, i’ve almost came in my pants three times tonight.”

max stares at charles with unseeing eyes, “i will never forgot the way she soaked my fucking leg, charles…i’m pretty sure i did come in my pants.”

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zepskies · 9 months

Note

Hey could I please request headcanons for how Dean would react to reader texting him "she's busy" as a joke, yk kind of like

Dean: Hey baby

Reader: She's busy

I really hope this makes sense and isn't so confusing 😭😭

Ooh I think I know what you mean. 😏

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F. Reader Word Count: 850

Imagine: Texting Dean when he's on a hunt.

Once again, Dean sighed while he waited on his brother.

They were stopped at a 7-Eleven gas station after a hunt, but Dean had long ago filled up Baby's tank. Sam was inside, grabbing a few snacks for the road tomorrow. Supposedly.

Dean fished out his phone from his pocket and texted him.

Hey, Driving Miss Daisy. You good in there?

A couple of minutes later, Sam responded.

Yeah, just getting a few things.

Dean rolled his eyes. Right.

For half an hour? What, you taking a shit or something?

Sam's response was testy, just as Dean predicted.

Dean, give me a minute. Jesus.

Dean sighed, with a roll of his eyes. He scrolled back into his texts and found your name. He was a couple of states over from Lebanon, but still within the same timezone. You should still be awake back at the bunker.

He decided he wanted to hear your voice, let you know that he and Sam were going to catch one more night of rest here at the motel before they made the long drive back home.

But...you didn't answer when he called.

Weird. You were typically a night owl, either watching something or plugging away at your laptop. He tried texting you instead.

Hey, baby. You up?

He eventually saw the three gray dots pop up. You were typing...

She's busy.

Dean frowned. What the hell?

Had you invited someone over? Like Jody or Donna?

But neither of them would've replied like that...so he texted back.

Stop messing around.

Dean tried calling you again, but it went directly to voicemail this time. In came another text from "you."

She'll call you back, dude.

Dean's jaw ticked with annoyance. And despite himself, unease began to creep in and churn his stomach.

What the fuck is this?

She's in the shower. I'll tell her to call you back, no worries.

All right. WHO is this?

Ooh, are you the boyfriend? Yikes lol.

A deep, slow breath made it through Dean's nose. He closed his eyes, counted to ten, reminded himself that he did, in fact, love you.

Then he responded.

Babe, if you don't call me in the next 30 seconds, there's gonna be hell to pay when I get home.

Dean checked his watch and actually counted. About ten seconds passed before his phone rang with an incoming call...from you. He answered.

"Promise?" came your teasing voice. When it ended on a giggle, Dean rolled his eyes and rested his head back on the seat. He blew out a frustrated breath.

"Oh, trust and believe. You're gonna fuckin' get it this time," he said, though his lips curved on a reluctant smirk. You full on laughed at him then.

"You make it too easy," you replied.

He knew this. It wasn't the first time you'd teased him, and he knew it wouldn't be the last.

Still, he couldn't help being a bit irritated this time.

"You know, how would you like it if I did that to you?" he asked. "Wouldn't be so fucking funny then, would it?"

"...Okay. You're right. I'm sorry, baby," came your more contrite voice. But he could still hear your smile. Could imagine the way you might soothe a hand along his arm, if you were here.

"How about I make it up to you?" you offered.

That worked a slow smirk onto his face. "Yeah? What did you have in mind?"

For the next few minutes, you purred into his ear about all the things you'd been thinking of while he was gone. Daydreaming about the talents of his hands, lips, and tongue.

In particular, you reminded him about a certain birthday wish that he still hadn't claimed from a couple weeks ago, when he and Sam got wind of this hunt.

Two weeks really was too damn long, in your opinion. (He agreed with you.)

Now with a half-straining bulge in his jeans, Dean licked his lips and tightened his hand on the leather wheel of the car.

"All right. Sounds like a plan to me, sweetheart," he said, deceptively breezy. As if you'd just told him you planned to make tacos for dinner.

"When are you getting home?" you asked.

He heard the tone of your voice, like black silk. It sent a tendril of heat down his spine, raising the hairs on his forearms.

"Tonight," Dean said. Deeper, a note of gravel in his words. "I'll see you tonight."

"Good." Once again, he heard the smile in your voice. "I love you."

He sighed, and raised a hand to card through his hair.

"Love you too...even though you play too fucking much," he muttered the latter bit.

Your laughter once again reached his ears, reluctantly making him smile.

He hung up with you just before Sam finally opened the passenger seat door and climbed in with two hefty grocery bags. Did he do a whole damn shopping spree in there?

...Whatever. Dean shook his head and started the car.

"Change of plan," he said. "We're heading home."

"What? Thought we were gonna catch a few hours of sleep. It's a long drive, Dean," Sam said, earning his brother's gaze.

"Yeah, well, you'll live," Dean snarked. A more devious grin spread across his face. "I've got a date."

And she's about to get punished.

The Impala's tires screeched as Dean pulled out of the parking lot and onto the main road.

AN: Ha! This one was fun. 😘 Thanks for the prompt!

Dean Winchester Imagines

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Dean W. Tag List:

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

#ask me stuff #dean winchester #dean winchester imagine #texting Dean #and teasing Dean #sam winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fic #spn #supernatural #zepskies answers

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clarkpip22 · 5 days

Text

𖥻.•𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘 𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 ✴︎.

****************************************************

a/n- this is my first time every writing smut so sorry if this isn't good but i hope you'll enjoy<3

warning- this is 18+ so mdni, pls and thank you :)

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↪loves eating you out

- she will devour your pussy like it is a full course meal.

- definitely makes you squirt all over her face

- and she won't stop unless you tell her to or push her head back

- "You taste so good, mama~"

- Emily's eyes always look so heavy when she's eating you out, sometimes she closes her eyes while moaning into you. Enjoying every inch of your cunt

↪strap game is insane!

- treats your pussy like its a toy when she's fucking you

- she may talk to you nice but their is nothing nice about the way she pounds you into the bed

- sometimes she gets carried away because she is so focused on making you feel good

↪speaking of talking to you nice. THE PRAIS! THE DIRTY TALK!

- her mouth is dirty <3

- anytime you are doing good for her, she showers you in complements.

- calls you her good girl <3

- some of her favorite phrases♥︎

- "yes baby, you're doing so well for me"

- "Please make that pretty cunt squirt for me baby"

- "ride me mama~"

- "I love your pussy so much"

- even outside of the bedroom she's praising you

- there's been times were she will whispers dirty things to you out in public

- "i can't wait to take you home and shove my face between your legs"

↪Emily struggles to keep her hands to herself

- she inlove with you and her favorite way to show you is through touch but it always leads to me than just innocent touches

- Emily's hands 🤝 your thighs

- she also loves grabbing your neck

- Em will hold you by the neck when she wants you to look at her

↪loves ass

- she spanks you a lot for fun

- Anytime she walks past you or you bend down, all you feel is a big, strong, muscular hand land on your ass

- "Ow Emily! That hurts!"

- " hush baby, i didn't hit you that hard"

↪Emily is into punishments

- if you are giving her attitude or acting like a brat, she will embarrass you

- her favorite way to punish you is by making you act like a cat or dog

- she'll strip you down and put a dog or cat buttplug in you and makes you crawl on all four

- Emily has you crawl up on her lap and sit while she plays with your cunt

- fingers the life out of you

- "don't try to run away from me baby, you wanted to act like a brat so imma treat you like a brat."

- spanks you hard if you complain

- if you take your punishment well, Emily will eat you out all night long

- if you don't than she'll pound your cunt for hour, making you cum over and over again until you apologize like a good girl<3

↪and finally... the aftercare

- she makes sure your nice and cleaned up

- kisses you on the cheek telling you how good you are and how proud she is of you

- Emily is usually very soft after sex, stroking your body and cuddling on

- feeds you snacks and make sure your well hydrated.

- "you did so good for me baby, i love you~"

- "i love you too, em"

You guys are sooooo cute 😩<3

#emily engstler smut #emily engstler x reader #wnba #wnba basketball #washington mystics #emily engstler

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frantic-fiction · 3 months

Text

Hey you.

Pic: Cuddlelion on steam

Astarion x gn!Tav

Summary: Young Arabella comes to stay at the camp during the trip through the Shadow-Cursed Lands. Her curious questions affect Astarion more than it should.

Based on this post by the-phantom-otaku

Thank you to my lovely friend Ayselluna for requesting this fic sorry it took me so long. Hopefully you like it.

Word Count: 1.5k

Masterlist

The camp is as lively as it always is. Gale is working away on the group's supper, Wyll giving him unwarranted pointers. Karlach is trying to sneak spoonfuls of the unfinished stew only to have her hand slapped away dramatically with a spoon. Shadowheart is in her evening prayer, and Haslin sits beside her in contemplation. Scratch and the owlbear cub are playfully wrestling in a mud puddle. The grinding sound of Lae'zel sharpening her sword echoes through the camp.

Astarion clenches his jaw, hands tightening against the leather binding of the book Tav had gifted him last week. He hated this time of evening the most when it was too late to keep moving on their journey but too late to hide away in his tent. Not that it would have stopped him before, but things have changed. Or maybe he had changed because he was waiting for them instead of tucking himself away.

Tav.

Because they should have been back by now, Tav had said they would only say hello to the skeleton. Something about 'Not wanting him to feel lonely.' It's a thing only Tav would think about because who cares about a reanimated skeleton besides Tav? But that was almost thirty minutes ago, and these woods left a sickly feeling lingering in the air. Astarion was familiar with darkness, but these shadowlands were filled with malice and evil, still not fully comprehended.

Astarion should find them. Ensure they're not trying to bring home an orphaned squirrel, stray cat, or whatever Tav seems to get up to when he's not watching. Make sure they're safe so he can quell the fire of anxiety that's eating away at him.

But as Astarion is tossing his book down to leave, Tav emerges from the red foliage. Their face is stretched into a soft, beaming smile, and the moon's glow cascades down in dim rays. Gods, they're always so breathtakingly beautiful that he doesn't think he'll ever get enough.

Tav shakes their head and speaks down. That's when Astarion notices the small tiefling child holding their hand. He recognizes her from the grove, Arabella. He smirked when he remembered her attempted robbery of that artifact from those testy druids. Then the images of her parents lying stiff in those dirty cots press forward into his mind, and he has to look away.

Now that he knows Tav is safe, he tries to focus back on the book. It wasn't anything special, just a romance novel about a dashing pirate and a blushing maiden. But Tav had gone out of their way to keep his collection filled with new material so he would not complain about the lackluster writing.

Astarion was halfway through the chapter by the time someone had approached. By smell, he knew it wasn't Tav, so he ignored them and hoped they would take the message and move along.

They didn't because soon there was a tug at his sleeve and a small clearing of one's throat.

"Hey, you!"

Astarion lowered the book and looked down to find Arabella looking expectantly up at him.

"Yes, hello," Astarion says cordially before pressing his face back into the book.

If he was being honest, children unnerved him. After being entombed for that long, painful year trying to save that young boy, he did everything in his power to steer clear of them. Astarion's hoping if he ignores the young girl long enough, she'll get bored and move on to bother the next party member.

However, the little tiefling wouldn't be swayed so easily.

"You look sick."

Astarion freezes and stares unblinkingly at the girl. "Excuse me?"

"Yeah, you're pale, sickly pale. You have dark circles under your eyes, and even your cheeks look kinda hollow. Are you okay?"

Now Astarion is thoroughly offended. Scoffing, he crosses his arms and sticks his nose in the air.

"I'm a vampire. I can't get sick." However, Astarion betrays his confidence by bringing one hand up to his face to prod at the skin under his eye.

"Really?" Arabella says in surprise, causing Astarion to snap his gaze down to the child. "Aren't vampires supposed to look young?"

Now fuming and outright pissed, Astarion sees the ghost of a smirk on the tiefling's face.

"Listen here, you little sh–"

"Astarion!" Tav interrupts, walking up behind and touching the girl's shoulder warmly.

"What? The little shit started it!"

Tav gives him a pointed look that he knows means he needs to calm down, or he will be in the dog house tonight.

"I didn't mean to upset him, ma'am," Arabella says, all sickly sweet, playing into your caring side. "I was just curious. I've never met a vampire before."

"No, the little devil-"

"Astarion," Tav warns, forcing him to bite his tongue. "Don't mind him, Arabella. Let's get you something to eat. Gale made a beef stew tonight."

Tav offers the young girl her hand, and as the two walk away, Arabella sends a smirk over her shoulder and sticks out her tongue, taunting him. Astarions hand twitches towards his dagger, wanting to teach the twerp a lesson, but he takes a deep breath and turns on his heel, storming into the tent.

By the time Tav retires for the night, Astarion is tucked away in the corner of the tent. He's glaring daggers at the hand mirror grasped tightly in his hand, willing the glass to show his reflection. Nimble fingers are poking and prodding and pulling at the skin under his eyes and around his face, trying to pick apart any details he could not see.

A deep frown pulls at his lips and creases his brow. Astarion's shoulders are slumped, betraying how much Arabella's words have affected him. It wasn't a secret the man was vain and took pride in his appearance. To have a child pick apart his insecurities left him upset and wanting nothing more than to see his face just once more.

Astarion is pulled from his brooding thoughts when he feels two arms snake around his middle and the soft press of kisses peppered up his neck. Instinctively, he melts into Tav's touch, still astonished by the simplicity of this new relationship.

"Hey, handsome," Tav breathes into his ear, pressing one more fleeting kiss just below before pulling away to get ready for bed.

He absentmindedly greets them, still too focused on his internal conflict. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches Tav strip bare and move around, tossing random bits and bobs to find their night clothes. Once they're dressed, Tav stops and stands in the middle of the tent. He can feel them staring at him as he's transfixed on the empty mirror.

"Astarion,"

"Do I look sick?" He drops the mirror and turns to face Tav. "Do I look hollow and pale…old?" His voice trails off at the end, and he's unsure if he wants to know the answer, but it's eating away at him.

Tav's eyes soften. "Was that what Arabella said to you?"

Pity. He could see it in Tav's eyes, and he recoiled, disgust curdling in his gut.

Astarion scoffs." Please, Tav, I don't need your pity."

Tav grabs his hand and pulls him close. "There is no pity. Understanding yes. But not pity."

"It's all the same." Astarion looks down.

"No, but that's beside the point. Arabella is a child Star. They will say the most insulting things without realizing it or just because they know it will hurt. Do you want to know what I see?"

Astarion nods softly, holding onto the hem of Tav's shirt. He knows he's being foolish, but Astarion wants the reassurance that Tav is happy to give.

Tav cups his cheek, forcing him to meet their eyes. "Your face might look hollow to Arabella, but I see your high cheekbones and sharp jawline," Tav emphasizes their point by trailing a thumb against his jaw and pulling Astarion into a fleeting kiss. "Not to mention everything those lips and tongue have done to me."

Astarion smirked and chased after Tav's lips, pouting when he was denied.

Tav's hands trail down his chest and slip under his shirt, splaying against his cold skin. Astarion lets out a shaky breath. "Yes, you are pale, perhaps at times sickly. But I love it because after you've finished feeding, I see that beautiful flush covering your body."

"Maybe you have laugh lines and forehead creases that a little girl would consider old. But if you ask me? Astarion, when I see you smile and laugh, gods, it's the sexiest thing in the world. Because it shows me that you're happy and safe and here with me."

Tav has now thrown their arms over Astarion's shoulders and has pulled their body flush against his. Astarion is at a loss for words, especially when Tav looks at him with such love. Tav kisses him softly, and he tightens his hold, wanting nothing more than to meld into their body.

"So, who cares what a child thinks? You are beautiful, and between the two of us. I'm going to be the one worrying about wrinkles, not you, mister immortal vampire."

"Thank you, my love," Astarion whispered against Tav's lips, smiling into another sweet kiss.

"Let's lay down. I think it's time to cuddle, don't you think?"

Astarion's insecurities fade for the night because how can the darkness stand a chance when he has Tav as his guiding light?

Just something short and sweet while I'm in the middle of moving. Sorry if anyone felt ooc. Let me know what you guys thought of it.

Taglist: @heartfully10@ayselluna@marina-and-the-memes@anixson@canonicalchaoticneutral @toadsbitch @meulinkitten-blog @ambr4armr @lotusandcrystals @venussakura @synapticjive @skittleabyss @asterordinary @lariatbunny @whispering-depths @butchboi-chihuahua-slumlord @darkest-part-of-the-forest @queenofcarrotflowers-s @sessils @d20bunny @cherifrog @ophelia-ophelian @bgthree @darlingxdragon @mothynyx @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf @babyqnn @mmendez0124 @kokoyu-art

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#astarion x tav #bg3 #astarion x reader #astarion #bg3 astarion #reader insert #fanfic #astarion ancunin #astarion imagine #frantic fiction #bg3 fic #bg3 tav #baldurs gate 3

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mybworlds · 19 days

Text

Everything's gonna be okay

Pairing: jackson!joel miller x f!reader (no use of Y/N)

Summary: Joel just had an argue with Ellie, when he comes back home you find a way to help him relax.

Warnings: established relationship, lot of fluff, use of petnames, use of you, videogame references.

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Thx for the dividers @saradika-graphics

The sun was setting when Joel returned to your house. You were waiting for him sitting on the sofa. Joel came back with heavy foot and laid on a chair on the porch. You were reading one of the few novels Joel found during his last patrol not to far from Jackson with Tommy and other few men. You saw the light on the porch and closed the book joining him.

When you greeted him and looked at his face you immediately understood that something unpleasant had just happened. Indeed, his somber expression meant a thing only, he had had an argue with Ellie. No one had the power to hurt him like Ellie, that little girl was so hard sometimes.

He sat down at his wooden chair, elbows resting on his legs "Joel..." you said kneeling before him to look him in his eyes, his eyes were so sad and full of tears, you took his face in your hands, "She's a grown-up kid, now, Joel. Give her some time."

You knew what Joel did in that hospital, you knew he saved her because he learned to love that kid and he didn't want to loose another person who means to him. You knew all the horrible things he did for her, but you knew what Ellie did to Joel and the way she changed him.

"Please, come in, my love." you said placing your hands on his big warm hands.

"Okay, babe." he whispered getting up and following you inside.

You closed the door behind you. The two of you sitted on the couch, Joel was lying placing his head on your thighs and you caressed his dark curls. This was a your habit since a while, since he had a hard time with Ellie or after a long patrol or after his work day as a carpenter. You knew how to help him.

You slowly caressed his soft hair with a very slow motion that let him closed his brown eyes, then you let your hand run along his forehead, his angular nose, his patchy beard and then you place a your fingertip on his plushy lips that he kissed. Then you kissed him back, "I love you, my love" you said.

You knew Joel wasn't the kind of guy who likes to say these things, but you needed to tell him because you wanted to let him feel all the love he could receive from you.

He mumbled an I love you back against your lips while you brought your lips closer to his, you loved to kiss Joel because every time he kissed you he put a hand through your hair causing you shivers and because you knew that deep down he needed love.

" 's that coffee?" he asked sniffing the air with a huge smile on his face, you nodded with a shy smile "You always know how to help me or make me feel better even though..." he stared at the ceiling losing his sweet smile "I know I messed things up with Ellie, she's still mad at me."

"I know... but I'm sure, she'll understand, my love."

He looked in your eyes "You sure?"

You nodded, "Give her a few weeks or maybe a few patrols and the two of you will be buddies like before," you said in an attempt to cheer him up.

"I hope so." he said.

"You want a cup of coffee?" he nodded then you got off the couch and when you were in the kitchen you shook your head. Joel cared so much for that little girl, you had no idea if Ellie could really forgive him, but as Joel you too hoped time could fix their relationship.

You came back handing him his cup, "Thank you," you kissed him and he kissed you back, it was a quick kiss, but later you’d give him more kisses in your bed.

He sipped a few times his coffee, then he got off the couch saying "I’m gonna play a lil..." you saw him got his guitar and go out onto the porch, you looked at him with a sad smile. A few moments later, you heard him sing that sad song and you felt your heart breaks.

Despite your love, you were well aware that there were some wounds in his soul that you couldn't completely heal. Initially, Joel rarely spoke, barely saying a few words, then over time, you learned to know him, understand him and accept hin for who he was and you loved every single aspect of him, even his flaws. You remembered about your different movie nights with Joel and Ellie, it was something the three of you used to do almost every night and every night it was so funny. Ellie used to sit cross-legged and after a few minutes she started to laugh or to comment what you watched using a nasty language that made you smile and often meet your eyes with him. He loved so much that girl.

You heard footsteps, but you intentionally didn't come out. By now you recognized those steps and then to confirm your doubts, you heard her voice.

It was Ellie.

The two of them had lots to talk about so you gave them some privacy and went upstairs, took a quick shower and then climbed into bed.

You had just dozed off when he entered the room, you heard him take off his boots and take off his clothes, then quickly wash himself and finally join you.

He hugged you tightly to him with one arm around your waist and placed his head on your shoulder, "My love" you said, turning partially towards him, he stuck his nose in your hair, deeply inhaling your scent. With one hand he moved the strap of your pajamas, his beard teasing your soft skin as he kissed your shoulder causing you to giggle “I love you.” he whispered in your ear, you searched for his mouth and found it immediately.

You loved him, and still love him, so much.

"Did something happen?" you asked him after exchanging kisses, cuddles, caresses, looks full of love and lust, while you stood with your head resting between his shoulder and his chest "You in a good mood."

Joel tenderly scratched the skin at the base of your scalp, "You were right, maybe things with Ellie can really work out." you looked at his face, even though it was semi-dark, you could see his eyes shining with joy and you couldn't help but smile at him and feel happy for him "Darlin', now I have everything. A home, you by my side, my brother's here close to me and things with Ellie will slowly be able to work out."

"You're so beautiful when you smile," you told him, caressing his face marked by age, "I love you,"

"I love you too, baby girl," he said, holding you in his strong arms, cradling you all night long.

"Will you stay with me tomorrow morning? Maybe you could help me prepare something to take to the inn." you suggest giving him a kiss on his bare chest.

"I'd like to, but tomorrow I have another patrol with Tommy." he sighed "A lot of snow is forecast, but I will be back in the afternoon and I promise I will eat your excellent vegetable stew."

You smiled at him shaking your head "You hate vegetables,"

"Yeah, but I would make an exception for you, my love." he said kissing you while you started caressing him again.

A/N This is a kind of missing moment between that famous ball evening and the day that you all unfortunately know, if you know, you know. There are references to Ellie and Joel relationship in the videogame, hope you like it.

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the-froschamethyst4 · 12 days

Text

Ex’s and Oh’s

𖤐Paring: Ex Husband! Ghost x Ex Wife! F! Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐AN: Sorry, it has taken me so long to post this, I've been busy and struggling with writers block for a while, it was hard to think of a way to start this story and also trying to not make it boring as well. Anyways, I hope you all will enjoy the fic version of headcanon

𖤐Based On: ex-husband-simon

𖤐Warnings: fluff, smut, language, ex's to lovers, children, kissing/making out, more use of Simon, abusive relationship,

𖤐Summary: Divorce is hard, and Simon didn't know it at all, he loved his ex-wife and did everything he could to be there for his kids

————

Simon waits in the driveway for his kids, Silas the oldest child and Luna his youngest. He remembers this house his first house he's ever bought with his now ex-wife Y/n.

Y/n had given Simon divorce papers because she was always worried about Simon when he was away on deployment. When she was pregnant with Luna, she couldn't handle the stress.

He watches the front door open and his kids come rushing out, Luna hugging Simon's legs and Silas hiked his bags into the back seat of his fathers truck.

"Come on, kids," Simon says, he turns and sees Y/n in the doorway being hold by her new boyfriend, Duncan. Simon couldn't stand him.

Duncan just leeched off of Y/n. Her money, home, food, he didn't pay bills, he was basically a roommate. Y/n tried to get Duncan many jobs but he never lasted then 4 days.

That was all information from Silas and Luna.

Simon looks at his kids helping Luna into her car seat.

"Daddy, can we go to the Zoo?" Luna asked.

"Maybe next weekend," Simon tells her.

"But I wanna go today."

"Not today baby."

"Why?"

"Because...it's close for cleaning."

"The Zoo isn't closed," Silas jumps in.

"Yes it is," Simon says, looking at his son to be quite. At the moment Simon didn't have anything plan with his kids, he just wanted to relax with his children and help them with homework if they needed it.

"Daddy?" Luna looks up at him.

"Not today," he says again. He shuts the door.

"I'm sorry for the last minute pick up," Y/n walks to her ex-husband.

"It's okay.

Y/n had a meeting and she didn't trust...Duncan. Sure they're dating and all, but she trusts Simon a lot more than Duncan.

"I can't believe you asked him to do it...I'm surprised he even agreed," Duncan says, watching Simon pull out of the driveway. Duncan acts like Simon is a dead-beat father when he's not, Simon works and barely even gets to see his kids.

And Duncan doesn't even help out with the kids, the week ago, Silas needed to be picked up from football (Soccer) and Duncan "forgot" and Luna was home but locked out of the house and didn't know if anyone was home or not.

"What the hell do you mean? Simon is a good father, this isn't his first time picking up his children," Y/n says.

"But like...I'm surprised really," he chuckles.

"Duncan, he's not a dead-beat father," Y/n says.

"Sure, he is, sees his kids 40 days out of the year."

"He...works Duncan, unlike you," she says. "I need to get going."

"Can't believe you married that guy too, seems like an asshole."

"He never was!" Y/n stood up for her ex-husband but why? She's the one who gave him the divorce papers, why is she standing up for him? Because she still loves him.

Duncan was a distraction for Y/n, she still loved Simon, but couldn't bring herself to tell him that, she thought if she had a boyfriend maybe her mind will love him instead but it wasn't, she still loved Simon, and she'll defend him even if he doesn't want her to, she'll still do it for him.

Duncan also doesn't know he's a 'distraction' he thought Y/n did like him.

----------

Simon looks at his son and daughter in the rearview mirror they were eating their chicken nuggets or small cheese burger. They were hungry since Simon had picked them up around lunch time.

"How's everything?" Simon asked them.

"Good." Luna says.

"Amazing," Silas says.

"Good," Simon says as he starts to drive to his apartment complex.

Simon parked in his usual parking spot and he helps his kids out of the back seats of his truck. They head to the elevators and hit the 5th floor button going up.

Luna played with the toy she just got and Silas played with his. Once the door opened Luna headed to the apartment door and Silas walked with Simon holding his bag as Simon carried his daughters bag.

Simon opens the door and his kids rushed in going to their rooms grabbing more toys and dragging them to the living room that Simon cleaned just for them to mess it up again.

Simon smiles at his kids and jumps in to play with them, he jumps from playing Monster Trucks and Wrestling to Princesses and Pet Shops.

He likes to play with his kids, enjoying how they play and missed all times him and Silas use to play with each other, before Luna was born, he didn't play with her as much because of the divorce.

He lays on his back and Luna sits on his stomach, she pats his toned chest and was using his chest as a mountain for her Barbies to play mountain climber, he knew he had a big chest but he didn't think it was that big.

"Daddy, stop breathing it's messing with my Barbies."

"Baby, I can't just stop breathing," he chuckles which now causes his chest to bounce.

"Daddy," she groans.

"Okay, okay, I'll stop laughing, but I can't stop breathing," he smiles.

"Dad," he looks at his son, but he was looking at him upside down.

"Yes, buddy?"

"I don't like mama's new boyfriend," Silas says.

"You don't?"

"Yeah," Luna now jumps in. "He yells at us sometimes, even for nothing."

"Yelling at you? Are you sure it's just because you two might have...I don't know actually done something wrong?"

"Daddy, are you taking his side?"

"No, no, but-"

"No reason, dad," Silas says.

Simon sits up now holding his daughter so she doesn't fall and she slides down on his lap.

"I understand," he says, letting go of his daughter as she goes back to her Barbie's dreamhouse.

----------

9:00PM

His children had gone to bed now, and Simon decided to do something, something he's never done because it was never his business.

Duncan Matthews Age: 31 Height: 5'11 Job: Unemployed Criminal Background: DUI, 1st degree Stalking, Demotic Violence

"Goddammit Y/n...you're smarter than this," Simon groans.

Simon copies the link and pulls up his email, he was going to send it to Y/n. If she was unaware, which she's not, she wouldn't keep this guy around.

------------

Y/n was working late, she needed to get some files done and then she sees a notification pop up, it was from an anonymous email account.

She clicks it and then reading upon the email.

You're smarter than this with the screenshot of Duncan's police report attached to it.

She felt like she knew it was from. But she goes ahead and reads it anyways and then reading his charges.

*Ping*

Did you also know he yells at the children for no reason?

*Simon...what are you doing?* She thinks to herself.

Y/n then thinks of it, when she first brought Duncan home he was very rude to her children, but she brushed it off because sometimes her kids could be a little frustrating to deal with but she still loves them.

Duncan has also claimed that he didn't like kids and even though he knew about Y/n having kids still proceeded to be with her. Silas has brought up the fact that Duncan yelled at him and Luna a few times but Y/n thought was because they were doing something Duncan had told them many times to stop, so she brushed off again.

She now knows...she needs to listen to children more.

-----------

A Few Hours Later

Y/n was heading home now, she looks at her home from inside her car watching as the only light was on was the living room light, Duncan must've still been up.

She gets out of her car and locking it up and heading inside, she was right, he was still up, playing video games and yelling while he played them.

He was so annoying.

"Duncan, can you turn that off? It's almost midnight, and I have to go to bed to be able to get ready for work tomorrow," she says. She doesn't want to be up all night because of her dumb boyfriend always yelling at the games he play.

"Later, I'm not done-"

"Now, please," she cuts him off.

"Seriously? ALL I DO FOR YOU AND THIS IS HOW I AM TREATED!?"

"DO WHAT!? YOU DON'T EVEN HAVE A JOB, I PAY FOR EVERYTHING! WHAT DO YOU MEAN EVERYTHING YOU'VE DONE FOR ME!? YOU DON'T DO SHIT, BUT SIT HERE AND PLAY YOUR STUPID VIDEO GAMES AND I'M FINDING OUT YOU YELL AT MY CHILDREN!!! WHAT TYPE OF PERSON ARE YOU!?" She yells back.

*Smack*

A sharp pain stung on Y/n's right cheek, she holds her cheek, tears threatening to fall from her eyes.

He just smacked her.

------------

A Few Days Later

Simon held his daughter and set her in her car seat. Silas buckled himself up and was ready to go back to his mothers house.

As Simon pulled into the driveway helping his kids out of the truck, the front door opened and he turns with a smile on his face ready to tell her how much fun his children had at his apartment, but he sees her face.

She looked upset, and then he sees a bruise over her left eye and a red mark on her cheek.

"Y/n?"

"Thanks for bring my kids back safely," she says, giving him a smile.

"Hey...are you okay?"

"Don't worry about me," she says.

"Hey," Simon then cups her face. She doesn't move, it was like she misses his touch and his worried face. "What...the hell happened?" He asks.

"He-"

"Oh finally you brought the kids back, how was it, rug rats?" Duncan asks coming outside and Y/n moves her face from Simon's hands.

"WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO!?" Simon grabs Duncan and Y/n ushers her children inside to not witness whatever Simon is going to do to Duncan.

Simon grabs Duncan's shirt throwing him to the ground, Duncan let's out a groan when his back hits the concrete.

"SIMON!" He stops whatever he's about to do, and starts pushing Duncan down the concrete stairs.

"Get the fuck away from my family!" He yells and Duncan starts to scramble to his feet and run away from the house. Simon was breathing heavily to stop himself from chasing after Duncan.

Simon turns to Y/n and her children hiding behind their mom, they've never, never, ever seen Simon like this before, it was almost like they didn't even know him.

"Are you okay?" Simon asks, Y/n.

"Simon-"

"I know...I don't need to fight your battles for you...but when I saw you standing there with bruises on your body, I just lost control because I knew he was the one who didn't, you don't just get those from nothing," he says.

"You-I could've called the police!"

"Tell him to collect his things, I'll be here when he does show up. I don't want him near my children or you ever again."

"You're not my dad-"

"So, you want him to keep doing what he is doing?"

"No."

"Then call him and tell him to collect his shit, and I'll be here to make sure no funny business happens, do you understand?"

"Fine."

-------------

It was a week later now, Simon did what he said he'll do and he stayed in the house as Duncan and few of his friends gathered his shit and left, it was easy, a little too easy.

"Don't ever fucking come back, do not ask her for forgiveness, now fuck off, all of you," Simon says, slamming the door in their faces and he watched as they left the driveway.

"That was too easy, dad," Silas says as he stood next to Simon.

"I know..." Simon bends down to his son. "I want you to keep an eye on your sister and mother, anything happens, you call me or the police do you understand?"

"Yes, dad."

"I don't need protection," Y/n says.

"You do, if I'm not around," Simon says.

"Mommy, daddy, can we go to the park? It's nice out and I want to play outside," Luna says from the living room.

"Sure, come on, go get shoes on," Simon says. Y/n looks at Simon in a 'are you serious?' type of look, she wanted Simon gone, she wanted to spend her day with her children since Duncan was now gone for good.

"What?" Simon teases.

"Mama, are you mad at dad?" Silas asked, looking up at Y/n.

"No, no, I just...I just wanted to spend time with you guys."

"You can spend time with us, with daddy!" Luna yells coming down the stairs.

Y/n looks at Simon then down at her kids. Maybe, just maybe she'll let this slide once, she's only doing this for her children.

----------

Luna was going down the slide and Silas was at the bottom of the slides arms wide open catching his younger sister from falling onto the dirty mulch.

"I'm sorry, he did those things to you-"

"Could we not bring him up, please. I'm only here for my children, I'm not here...to be friends with you, Simon."

"I don't understand what I did for you to hate me?"

"I don't hate you Simon."

"Seems like it," he rests his chin on his palm.

"I'm just...annoyed...I'm not a Princess that needs saving every time I get into trouble, I can handle myself. It seems like every time you're over here, I'm somehow in trouble and you come to my rescue," she says.

"I know you're not a Princess, Y/n...and I don't mean to come to your rescue every time, but I can't just sit back and watch someone hurt you for no reason," he tells her.

"Mama! Luna is picking weeds again!"

"DANDILIONS AREN'T WEEDS!!" Luna yells at her brother while giving the brightly yellow flowers to Y/n.

"Thank you, baby," she kisses Luna's temple as her kids went back to play.

"I'm glad you let me come," Simon says.

"Again...I only did it for my kids."

"I know."

-------------

A month later now. Simon was waiting for his kids, Luna or Silas haven't said anything about Duncan in a while, or anything about Y/n since the park.

Simon sees his kids rushing out and Luna pulled on Simon's hand.

"What, Luna?"

"Mama, wants to see you," she says.

"Okay, okay, get in the truck and I'll be right back, okay?"

"Okay," she says as his kids get inside the truck he goes into the house.

"Y/n?" He calls out. "Y/n?" Once more.

"Upstairs," he goes upstairs and sees at the end of the hallway, her bedroom door open, he walks to the door, peeking through seeing her in a towel and she seemed like she was getting ready for work.

"Y-You wanted me?" He asks. Y/n turns and let's him in.

"Yeah, can you tell me which shirt would go great with my skirt?" She holds up a red button up and and black on, her skirt was just a plain black pencil skirt, black goes with anything, but why is she asking him? She already knows what will go good with the skirt.

"I think they both will look good with it-but why are you asking me?"

"Because...your opinion is a bit valid," she says, dropping the shirts.

"My opinion is valid?"

"Forget it," she says, she turns her back and Simon smiles, she was asking for his opinion.

Simon walks to her, his hands gently caressing her waist. She doesn't stop him, she misses his touch. It was always gentle and soft, he wasn't demanding for her attention or anything, he just wanted to know if his touch still had an effect on her, and it did.

He kisses her neck, earning a soft moan from her lips, her hand goes to his cheek to let him keep going. Y/n then leans back into his touch, his hands going to her towel and letting it lose and fall to the ground.

She turns and looks at Simon, his eyes roam all over her body, from her breasts and her perky nipples to her thighs that were squeezing together. She didn't cover herself up like she was embarrassed that he was staring at her bare body. For fuck's sake, Simon has seen her naked body before.

Simon picks her up and putting her on the bed, moving her clothes out of the way, he picks up her thighs and moving them against her chest, he leans down and kisses her lips.

His tongue along with hers dancing around, and soon her was messing the belt of his pants. He looks into her eyes almost like he was asking for permission. She slightly nods her head, allowing him to push himself into her, earning a soft moan from her lips.

He slowly rocks his hips back and forth watching her head go back against the mattress of her bed, her arms wrapped around his neck pulling him closer to her chest and his kissed both sides of her breasts and then started to suckle on her left nipple while his hand kneads her right breast.

Simon starts picking up the pace her moans were loud now and with every thrust, her moans would go at a higher pitch. She missed this feeling of Simon being inside her. Duncan could never do what Simon does.

Simon looks down at her stomach seeing him just barely bulging from her lower stomach. He smirks and holds her face to let her look at him as he goes a bit harder now. Her nails dug into his arm from the pleasure.

"S-Simon." She moans.

"I know, baby, I know, you can come," he tells her, with a few more thrusts she ends up coming on his dick. He smiles and pulls out watching both of their cum mix together.

He goes down and starts cleaning her up, he then remembers.

"The kids! I need to get going," he says. "I love you, and I'll see you later, sorry for this all of a sudden."

Y/n smiles, he's so flustered, he's never been like that before, she rolls on her side to watch him leave, she gets up and starts cleaning herself up and starts to get ready for work.

She missed him, she truly did. She just hides it.

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woso-dreamzzz · 6 months

Text

Pregnant

Hardersson x Baby!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Pernille takes a pregnancy test

It isn't unexpected.

They'd been trying for a little while now.

Magda had been given injections daily to produce eggs (leading to her being more irritable and snapping at everyone during training but refusing to give anyone an explanation about her sudden mood swings) so when they finally began to process of transferring the eggs to Pernille, they had been prepared.

The first few rounds were unsuccessful but neither wanted to give up hope.

It's during a gap in training that has Magda flying over to Germany, that Pernille realises that she's missed her period.

Magda's still on the plane when Pernille eventually ventures out of the comfort of her apartment to get a test. She's not too worried, eager to brush this off as her period is late or being a bit too stressed rather than getting her hopes too high so when Magda arrives, she's not in a depressed slump.

It's a little awkward, peeing on the stick. She does multiple of them, just to be sure and then leaves them on the side to wait.

Her mind wanders to what she'll do if she's actually pregnant. She'll be happy with a boy or a girl but, selfishly, in her mind's eye, she's always pictured herself with a girl - a mini-Magda on her hip to watch grow and develop and (hopefully) play football just like her mothers.

She doesn't quite know what she'd do with a boy or how different it would be to raise a son in a family with two mothers.

But, Pernille knows that she's getting ahead of herself, as she wanders back to the bathroom to take a look. She can't get ahead of herself on something like this.

A baby is a big step for her and Magda.

She can't start fantasising so early.

Pernille grabs the pregnancy tests

When Magda gets to the house, it's to complete silence. It's a little strange. Pernille's home is almost never silent, whether it be music or the tv in the background.

"Pernille!"

There's no answer for a moment and then a quiet, slightly choked up," Magda?"

"Pernille? Is something wrong?"

Magda doesn't like the way that Pernille sounds so close to tears.

"No-No...Magda, can you come here please?"

Magda hurries from the apartment quickly, slipping around in her socks on the wooden flooring as she finally skids to a stop at the bathroom.

Pernille's sitting on the floor, back pressed against the sink. She's got tears in her eyes and Magda thinks something terrible has happened.

She kneels down on the floor, cupping Pernille's cheeks to wipe away some of the wetness there.

"What is it?" She asks urgently," Are you hurt? Are you sick?"

Gently, Pernille pulls Magda's hands away from her face and slips something into them.

"We did it," Is all she says.

Magda stares down at the pregnancy tests for an embarrassingly long time. Her mind flicks between what it could mean before a lightbulb sparks in her brain and suddenly, she's crying too.

"We did it," She replies," We're having a baby."

Pernille nods. "A baby."

They go to the doctor, just to confirm what they already know and Magda takes notes during the appointment. She writes up a list of prenatal vitamins and their pros and cons. She writes up things Pernille should avoid eating and what times of day she'll likely be feeling nauseous.

For two weeks, it's blissful domesticity, like they're any other couple who has just been told they're going to have a baby soon.

"I can stay," Magda says at the airport before her flight," Let me call Emma. I can take some holiday days. I've got some saved up."

"Magda," Pernille says in fond scolding," You have to go." She holds her hand against her stomach. She's not even showing yet but she's sure that she can feel you inside of her. "We'll be fine."

Magda looks fleetingly back at the departure board before back to Pernille. "I'll be back soon," She promises," I swear. You and the princesse just need to hold out for a few more weeks."

Pernille rolls her eyes. "We don't even know if it is a princesse."

Magda looks down fondly at her belly. "I've just got a feeling."

"Go, Magda," Pernille says," And tell Emma that in nine months you'll be unavailable."

●～●～●～●～

As soon as Magda's on the plane, Pernille heads to the training centre. Subconsciously, her hand rests on her belly, where she swears that she can feel you growing.

She slumps down into her seat as the staff describes what has changed since the break, including much more rigorous gym sessions.

Pernille clears her throat and raises her hand. "And what exactly changes in a gym session if, maybe, someone is pregnant?"

Silence reigns for a moment before Nilla speaks," Are you-? You and Magda?"

Pernille nods. "We're having a baby," She says," Me and Magda. We're having a baby. I'm pregnant."

Chaos rings around the room as the girls either celebrate or stare, open mouthed and in shock at Pernille's news.

●～●～●～●～

Magda can't stop thinking about Pernille, about the fact that she's pregnant with you, all throughout the journey and for once, she's annoyed that she's timed her flight so she can get off and immediately head to training.

She's off in the changing rooms and she's off on the pitch and it's only at the video-review meeting that Magda checks through the proposed match schedule.

Emma is very prepared as a manager, even drawing up potential match days a year in advance despite none of them being confirmed.

"You're frowning pretty hard there, Magda," Millie says," Is there a typo or something?"

"No." Magda uses her finger to circle a group of matches. "I won't be able to make those matches."

"How come?"

The room is randomly quiet, conversations naturally coming to an end as Magda speaks.

"Pernille will have the baby around that time. I can't ask her to parent solo until the next break."

"Pernille's pregnant?! Why didn't you say earlier?!"

Noticing everyone watching, Magda's face grows hot.

"We only just found out?"

#woso x reader #hardersson x reader #pernille harder x reader #pernille harder #magdalena eriksson x reader #magdalena eriksson #woso community #woso #woso fanfics #woso imagine #The Big Adventures Universe

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roodles03 · 8 months

Text

The First Kiss

Things have been rough for them for pretty much their whole lives, but especially recently.

For Willow, being trapped in the human realm separated from her fathers, not knowing if they're okay, having little to no hope of ever returning home, and knowing the Boiling Isles might be in ruin due to the Collector was a lot to deal with. Flapjack's death, Belos still being alive along with seeing the Isles in a apocalyptic state confirmed so many of her fears.

Boscha was the icing on the cake, sending her into a boderline panic attack/mental breakdown that nearly ended with her suffocating not only herself, but also her best friends.

Meanwhile, Hunter has lost his beloved palismen, Flapjack, after having his body controlled and getting possessed by his abuser, who he thought he was finally safe from. He had died after sacrificing himself to save his friends, and Flapjack is the only reason he's still alive to tell his story, but in order for Flapjack to save him, he had to give up his life essence to revive Hunter. Hunter now has to continue living on without Flapjack. He misses him every single day. He thinks about him all the time. He wishes he was still here every waking moment. But Flapjack is never coming back, and that is almost impossible to handle at times.

But what Willow and Hunter do have is each other. They love each other and want to get through things together. They can help each other heal and give each other comfort through their pain. And Willow wants to assure Hunter that no matter what, she'll be there.

Hunter feels the same way, and he assures he'll be there for her too. Half-a-witches like them always stick together.

The half-a-witch statement is what Willow needed to hear her whole life.

In that moment of love, without thinking, Willow cups Hunter's cheeks and pulls him in.

Hunter, meanwhile, has no idea what's about to happen until their lips meet. He's shocked at first before quickly embracing the kiss. His emotions overrun him almost instantly.

When Willow separates, she immediately realizes what she just did, and she freezes. Hunter feels like he has to say something, but his overwhelming emotions make that incredibly hard. He has no idea what to say. He's too shocked for anything comprehensable to leave his mouth, and even if he could formulate a sentence, just one word would make him burst into tears.

Willow can hardly scoundure up an sentence herself, but just saying one word causes Hunter to be overwhelmed with joy. He's never felt so loved before. It feels amazing. He starts happily sobbing as the two pull in for a hug.

(Wow, my inner fic writer came out, didn't it-)

Pretty much everything went right for this comic and I'm really happy with how it came out. It definitely took a very long time for me to finish this due to uni, but it was worth the time and effort.

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luveline · 7 months

Note

hi can i request girl dad!aaron 🥺🥺 i am such a sucker for him, anything would be amazing thank you so much <3

hope this is okay!! —you have big news for your small family. 1.5k pregnant!mom!reader

When you first married his father, you weren't expecting Jack Hotchner to like you very much. Losing his mom so young, you wouldn't have blamed him for resenting you, or even hating you. You were like a stranger in his home.

Things are different now. Jack lays in your lap with his head on your shoulder, and maybe he's a little too old for such a coddling cuddle, but who really cares? You love him and you love holding him, and if he wants some extra comfort tonight you're happy to give it. Plus, you have something you've been meaning to tell him.

“He doesn't have real headlights, did you know?” Jack asks. “They're just stickers.”

You raise your brows at the car on screen. “No kidding.” You brush your fingers through his hair. He's blonde like his mom, though that blonde has turned brown the older he gets.

“Race cars don't have headlights.”

“They don't need them,” you say. Jack smiles at you shyly and leans into your neck, clearly pleased.

You're very, very glad that you ended up being someone he loved. It's a privilege to get to look after him, and to be his step mom. In the same way you're lucky to be Aaron's partner and Jane's mom, too.

“Think dad's made dinner?” you ask.

“No, he's probably just talking to your sister.”

Yes, well. You can't blame him, nor would you want him to stop. He talks to Jane like she understands, and Jane, not even two years old, nearly brand new to the world, soaks him in. You can hear him if you strain, the dulcet cadence of his voice under the steady hum of the dishwasher.

“That's okay, sweetheart, don't get upset,” he's saying, “it's okay. Come here, I've got you.”

Jane starts to cry. You and Jack give one another the look, apprehensive in hoping it won't turn into a full blown melt down.

“Honey?” Aaron calls. “Sorry, where did you put her other pacifier?”

You kiss Jack's hair. “Sorry, bub. Wanna come with me?”

Jack wants to stay and watch Cars. You wrap him in a throw blanket and make your way into the Hotchner kitchen, where Aaron rifles through the drawers and cabinets with Jane held snugly to his chest. “I know,” he says, “I know. I'll get it.”

You nudge him aside. You only know where the spare pacifier is because you put away the wooden spoons last night and pushed it back. You fish for it, a ladybug made of glittery red plastic, and Jane's crying slows as soon as you pull it free. She grizzles while you rinse it, but she settles when you hand it over.

“This is not the best, is it? The pacifiers?” you murmur.

“She dropped her other one and it rolled under the oven. And no. Not ideal.” He pats her back gently. “As long as she stops before she gets her big teeth, she'll be okay.”

“Do you think it's a comfort issue?” you ask.

“No,” he says. You worry about stuff like this constantly, but he knows kids are more hardy, and he isn't worried. “Sorry for making you get up.”

He hates when she cries; he may see his kids as a hardy bunch, but he takes their upset as a personal failure half the time. His concern for her overrides his concern for you, but in a few weeks that might change. You can't imagine him calling you to find something again when your stomach is round as a honeydew.

You've been meaning to tell him about that, too.

You're not secret-keeping immorally, he does want another baby, but you've been having a little bit of fun. He's gone on cases so often lately that he hasn't been able to keep track of you, or your doctor's appointments.

You watch him with Jane, and you think about him with Jack, and you know he's going to be happy. He's told you as much before.

“My poor girl,” he says, covering the back of Jane's head with his hand and pulling her under his chin. He looks as fine as ever, tall, dark and handsome to a fault. Jane's lips smack as she sucks and digs her teary cheek into his chest.

You can feel his gaze on you. “Is now a good time?” he asks.

You shrug. “For what?”

“To tell me what you're not telling me.”

“Oh, busted,” you croon, aiming for his shoulder.

You do as Jane had and press your cheek to his front, your eye forced shut.

“What do you think it is?” you ask.

He makes a strange noise. You can practically hear the possibilities for your secret running through his head. His birthday is vaguely soon, so that's what he'll settle on first. But Aaron likes to disregard the obvious as most people do, only circling back to it when there's no other lead to follow.

“How big of a secret is it?” he asks, rubbing Jane's back diligently. She makes a happy sound, and for a moment he forgets his plight to kiss the top of her head.

You speak quietly, carefully, because it is big, huge news. “The pamphlets say it’s about the size of a strawberry.”

He puts his cheek to Jane's head softly, looking at you in confusion. A second, another, and his eyebrows start to relax, rise, a smile on his lips like it's too good to be true. “You are?” he asks in surprise.

Jack appears in the doorway with the throw blanket trailing behind him. “Y/N, when are you coming back to watch TV?”

“Jack, lovely, come here. I have something to tell you,” you say.

Aaron grabs your wrist. When you meet his eyes, he squeezes gently. “You're sure?” he asks.

“The doctor seemed pretty certain, handsome.” You lower your voice as Jack comes to stand in front of you. “Are you happy?”

“Happy about what?”

You put your hand on your stomach cautiously, worried about Aaron and how quiet he's being, and if it's as okay to tell Jack as you'd thought, but that action is what gets him. “I love you,” he says quizzically, as though his being happy is totally dependent on the fact. “Of course I'm happy. This is the best secret you could've kept.”

“About what?” Jack asks, patting your arm.

You bend down just a bit to see his face properly. “It's a secret you can't tell anyone for a while, okay? The only people who can know for now are me, you, and dad.”

“Can I tell Jane?” he asks.

“Yeah, buddy, you can tell your sister,” Aaron says.

You peer at him from the corner of your eye, both concerned and pleased to see the wetness ringing his waterline, and the tenderness with which he holds Jane close, his thumb rubbing little circles into her back.

“I'm going to have another baby,” you say.

Jack's jaw drops. “Right now?”

“No, not right now! You still remember last time?” you ask with a laugh, taking his shoulders into your hands.

“You were crying and shouting for dad to hold your hand.” He pokes your stomach. “So it's like Jane?”

“Maybe one day, sweetheart. For now, it's just a tiny baby.”

Jack wants to see your stomach. He's expecting a much bigger bump than you have to offer, but you explain that eventually it'll get bigger again, and he seems quite pleased. Aaron makes sure to give him a hug and ask him if he's okay, to which Jack says, “Yes, but can we have a brother this time?”

You rub the soft top of your stomach. “I'll see what I can do, Jack.”

Aaron commandeers your attention, kissing you more times than you can count. You don't think you've ever seen him this happy now the reality has truly set in, asking Jane in his murmur, “Do you want to be a big sister?”

She gurgles around the pacifier, leaving drool in a line down his chest.

“I know, honey. I'm excited too. Let's clean you up, mm? And make mommy a cup of hot cocoa…” He narrows his eyes at you. “Would you sit down?”

“I'm only ten weeks, I'm fine.”

“She's keeping secrets from me, and now she won't do what I'm asking,” he says to Jane. “Can you believe it? Anyone would think mommy doesn't like me as much as she claims.”

You kiss his cheek. “M'having your baby, Aaron, again.”

“That is a compelling argument.” He wipes Jane's cheek. “What do you think? Should we forgive her?” Jane laughs. He smiles at you, lovesick. You're not sure who for. “I guess we're letting you get away with this one, sweetheart. But no more secrets.”

“None,” you promise.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble

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astreids · 6 months

Text

in this life and all the others !!!

alternatively — ☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩ john price prepared his daughter for everything and that included him being gone. what he didn't prepare himself for was her being gone.

simon riley x fem!price!reader — 𖦹₊˚⊹☁️

warnings — ⋆｡°✩ language. kinda ooc!simon but idgaf. reader may have some specific traits, sorry for self projection, it WILL happen again. kidnapping, allusion to death, blood, wounds, the usual yeeyay with their line of work. john is going through it. reader and ghost are already together.

author's note — ⋆｡°✩ hiii :) my first time ever writing for this fandom and i'm reallllly excited!! i hope you like this <3 fair warning, the reader's sense of style, hair length description, possible field of work may be specified so if that's not to your preference, i'm really sorry for it :( if you would like me to do something like this with some specific points and all, you can just ask me!! i'm sure i'll be able to work with that!! thank you so much for reading, i already love each and every one of you <3

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩

it felt wrong to admit it now but when your mother first dropped you at your father's house, he didn't — well, he didn't exactly want you.

it wasn't as if he didn't love you, he did — you were his daughter. but his life had enough chaos to last him a lifetime and he was just fine with staying in touch with you through screens and only seeing you alternately on christmas, that too if the circumstances allowed him too

sure, he wouldn't be there at your parent teacher conferences or have you show him your report cards. he wouldn't get to see you perform extraordinarily in your extracurriculars or have you run towards him with whatever prize or trophy you'd get. he wouldn't always be there at your birthdays and sometimes, he might even forget to mail you a present. he might not get to see you grow up and he might only be just your father and never your dad.

he was fine with that.

so, what would it matter if his heart broke a little when his ex-wife, your mother, called him the night after they had signed the divorce papers and asked him to talk to you because you wouldn't stop asking for your dad? why would he be second guessing himself after hearing your small voice breaking in between as you asked him to come back? why did he get the sudden urge to drive to your mum's house and pick you up and apologize and let you choose the colour of the walls of your room in his house — your home?

but sure, he was fine.

he assured you that he was just a call away, told you to be good for your mom, eat your veggies, be nice and kind and then bid you goodbye. he tried hard not to pay attention to your cries as your mum took the phone from you and apologized to him, explaining that you just missed him.

'she just misses you, john,' and he was ready to break down then and there. you needed him, your dad, and he was refusing to be there. refusing to let that shadow of his work even fall on your shadow for a second. refusing to let you be a soft spot for him because that was the most dangerous thing a person in his line of work could ever have.

'she'll get over it soon, forget her old man and all,' he tried to laugh it off but his voice broke and before your mum could say anything, he hung up.

the next time he saw you, you were at his door, standing with your luggage behind you and your mother. he noticed that her own luggage was still in the cab and it didn't take long for him to figure out what was coming. he had tried to explain himself, explain why exactly he wasn't cut out for this and that he was very happy with seeing you every other weekend. all while you stood near the staircase and stayed quiet.

your mum left and left you behind with a father who didn't even remember his daughter's favourite colour.

he remembered the look on your face and the way you tried to make yourself as small as possible, taking the least amount of space you could. you had just turned ten, your birthday being one of many that john would eventually come to miss and he looked at you like you were still that same one year old baby who pulled herself up and walked to her dad.

he grabbed your luggage and one of your hands and walked you up the stairs and into one of the rooms down the hall. it was mostly empty, a twin size bed and a dresser drawer spread out with a wardrobe in the corner but he figured you'd be fine.

if he saw you pause at the walls being your maybe-favourite colour, he didn't say anything.

☾⋆｡�� °✩

"what do you mean?"

"john — "

"stop, just — stop," john took a deep breath, exhaling shakily as he broke eye contact with laswell and looked away. his hands ever so slightly shaking came up to fix his signature hat as he pointedly ignored ghost's gaze piercing him from where he was listening to everything at the back of his office. "what do you mean?"

"we're trying to locate — "

"that's my fucking daughter and you swore that this wouldn't ever catch up to her!" john snapped, his voice firm and sharp as he desperately tried to hide the tremor in his words. "you — you guaranteed that my line of work would never catch up to her and that she'd be safe and she'd be fine and now she is — "

he cut himself off with as soon as his voice cracked, looking away as he shook his head, shaking the concerned and empathetic eyes of kate and the blank stare of his lieutenant. deep down, he knew that she was doing everything she could to locate you — the whole base was. with soap leaving no stone unturned as he investigated the residence, gaz checking the cameras installed out the place and the street to find a trace of anything, kate herself flying down to the base to do everything she was capable of doing and ghost doing... something, everyone was on it.

but still, you were his daughter.

his daughter. the one who always waited up for him ever since you learned that your dad would be away for a while but he'd come back. the one who called him 'old man' but cried and got upset whenever he tried to have the 'when i'm gone' conversation with you. the one who made cards for every single occasion, cards he still cherished with his everything. you were his everything and you were nowhere to be found.

in a way he blamed himself, he always did. whether it'd be you catching a fever or not having all of your project supplies, he'd always blame himself. he'd continue to do it until someone — more often than not, kate — came by and knocked some sense into his head, told him that one shortcoming doesn't make him a bad dad.

his eyes glanced around the room, anything to prevent him from looking into the empathetic gaze of kate because it felt like she had already accepted that you were gone. you were not, you were just taken — taken from him and he needed to get you back.

he locked eyes with simon and took in his appearance for the first time since he came into the room. truth be told, nobody really saw him coming in, nobody even called for him to be in here. he just showed up and john knew that it would be futile to get him to go out — not that he wanted him to go. it was weirdly comforting, having simon in the same room as they discussed what to do next. maybe it was because they both had the same goal in their mind, get you back or maybe john had just grown familiar with his presence after countless mornings of him descending down the stairs to see him and you at the breakfast bar. whatever it was, john was grateful simon stuck around.

looking at him, everything was the same, not one thing out of place but john knew different, he knew better. he could see the small specks of blood decorating his infamous skull mask and the empty holster attached to his thigh. he could barely make out the dark spots on his glove but if he strained his eyes enough, he'd find them.

he wasn't looking at simon, he was looking at ghost.

john knew that ghost hadn't expressed one percent of what he actually wanted to express. he knew as soon as he stormed out of the room when laswell broke the news to the team and returned a couple hours later, gloves discarded somewhere and his knuckles stained with blood. he kept his mouth shut, mind running haywire as he tried to plan out anything, anything to get even a sliver of news about your whereabouts.

he could feel kate stare at him with calculating eyes and something akin to guilt swimming in them. he could feel simon stare at his form as he paced around the room, hands fidgeting as he fought the urge to call soap and gaz every minute.

kate's gaze didn't bother him, simon's did because it mirrored his hopelessness.

he was so lost in his own guilt and desperation and defeat that he didn't hear the footsteps thundering down the hallway, not until they were right in front of them and the door slammed open. it was only then he looked to see soap panting, a small piece of paper in his hands and he pointed to it back and forth and for a moment, john could feel the sickening sense of hope swell in his chest.

gaz was right behind soap, seemingly in a better position to speak than the latter and plucked the piece of paper from his teammate's hands and held it out for john to see.

"what — "

"we managed to trace the owner of the car that was seen going around your block more than eighteen times," gaz informed, eyes flickering to ghost who had now made his way towards their small group and back to his captain in front of him. "the car was brought under a very... creative way, three shell companies and we traced each one of them back to a single corporation."

"they have these warehouses, right outside of the town," soap continued, taking notice of the desperation in his captain's eyes and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, "it's a very good chance she's there."

"how sure are you?" it was the first time ghost opened his mouth ever since he joined john and kate. his voice gave away nothing and to anyone, it must have sounded like he was just talking about any other mission but john knew that it took everything for him to keep his voice steady and strong.

"damn sure, lt."

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩

john remembered the first time he had the 'when i'm gone' talk with you.

you were eleven, and it killed him inside when he realised that he would have to make you understand the risks in his line of work.

he remembered the way you threw him the dirtiest look you could muster, the most withered glare set on your face as soon as he said the words and he had to stop and blink in surprise because goddamn, his daughter was scary.

he remembered the way you shook your head at his every 'understand?' the way you tried to run off to your room and you would've, if not for his arms shooting out to catch you before you could bolt. the way you told him to be quiet as politely as you could when he continued, denial in your eyes at the prospect of your dad going away and not coming back.

he remembered his heart cracking in two when you looked up at him with tears in your eyes and he almost stopped himself, cursing himself in his mind because you shouldn't have to sit here and listen to him telling you what to do in case his dog tags came back and he didn't.

you managed to get yourself free from his hold and rush upstairs to your room and he didn't have it in himself to call you back down and you both left it at that.

the second time he tried to have the talk with you was when you turned eighteen and he got shot on a mission.

the way you looked at him when he woke up in the hospital still haunted him on nights when he couldn't sleep and he knew that he was basically torturing you with this. going away and not providing any guarantee that he would come back but he couldn't.

he could leave tomorrow and say that he'd be back in time for christmas and there would still be a chance that he'd end up coming back home in a casket.

he couldn't give you the security of his arrival but he could prepare you in case anything ever happened and he did. he set apart bank accounts for you, under a different name and a different address. he brought two different apartments in the city, under a different name and a different address. he brought a small house and trusted that you would make it a home, under a different name and a different address. he made sure that you would be okay if he left, after he left and he knew he did a damn good job with it.

you didn't do the same.

he prepared you on how to live if he went away before it was time but he never prepared himself for if, god forbid, you were gone. he never had to because what kind of father would want to come to terms with the knowledge that their kid could leave before them?

"hey — hey, honey," he brushed the hair out of your face, his facade slowly crumbling away with his fingers came back stained with blood — your blood. his gun lays discarded next to him and he almost wants to go back and bullet a few more bullets in those bastards' heads for your condition. "you still with me?"

"dad..." you whispered, eyes fluttering close with fatigue and blood loss as your head rested against the wall. he could see the way you forced your eyelids to stay open, your grip on his hand weak and so delicate that he wanted to scream.

"i'm here, i'm here," he murmured, stroking your cheek to keep you awake while you both waited for the clear signal from the rest. his hands were shaking and he was sure that his heartbeat could be heard by everyone else on the comms but even then, he had to be strong. "i'm here, my sweet girl."

"you know," you forced these words out, eyes unfocused and dazy as you made an attempt to smile at his terror stricken face, "now's my turn to do the 'when i'm gone' talk. you already had two chances."

"NO! no — no, no," he shook his head, eyes blurring ever so slightly as the chaos over the comms became white noise to him. "we will never be having his conversation. ever. i'm supposed to go first and it'll be me. i don't care if i have to fight the fucking grim reaper for this, it'll be me and never you, you hear me? never — never you."

"when i'm gone," you continued as if he didn't practically tell you that he'd fight the devil if you went first and held onto his hand just a little bit tighter, as tight as your wounds would allow you to, "i want you to continue to invite simon around."

"darling — "

"no, please. i know you both and i know you'll just go away from the things that remind you of me and i don't want that," you talked quietly, your voice dipped in pain and john used his free hand to apply more pressure on it and when you didn't really wince or made a move to recoil back, his panic grew. "you both will remind each other of me and i don't want that to just hurt you more. invite him over, have tea, talk shit about me and — and just, keep him company. keep yourself some company."

"none of that is happening because you're not going away," john spoke sternly, his eyes determined and so confident that for a moment, he himself believed that you'd walk away from his alive and breathing. "we have years ahead of us and someone needs to be with me to make fun of riley for liking that stupid sitcom."

"i want you to be happy, dad," you continued, eyes fluttering close and stay shut for me even a longer time now and john panicked. "always happy."

"only when i have you," he shook you awake, your eyes shooting open at the motion and he almost cried in relief. he set you firmly against the wall and withdrew his hand from your grasp to talk over the comms. "lads, how's it looking?"

"positive, i believe. how's our miss soldier doing, sir?" gaz asked and john heard the occasional shower of bullets from his side and figured they were still stuck in the crossfire. "any damage to that billion dollar outfit of hers?"

"well, it's stained with blood now, so," john replied dryly and could feel gaz draw in a sharp inhale at that and figured he'd be out of the harm's way soon. "keep me updated."

he knew ghost was nearby, could feel his boots echoing in the almost empty hallways down the corridor and knew that you both were safe and secure. it was only when he looked away from the corner and back towards you that he noticed your limp hands and the way your head was slumped forward. he hands shook as he cupped your face and called out your name, almost hopefully.

"darling? honey, you gotta wake up," he spoke, almost inaudible and his own voice sounded foreign to him. it sounded too hollow and he hated that it looked like he had already accepted that you were gone. you were not. "come on, love. don't do this to your dad."

his hands were shaking terribly and blood smeared across your cheeks but he didn't care. all that he cared about was that you were there, still and so silent in his arms and you were not answering him. his could feel his heart break. he could make out exactly where it hurt him physically as he repeatedly called out your name and you did not respond.

heavy footsteps sounded from behind him and he didn't have to turn to know that it was simon — ghost, in that moment. he didn't have it in himself to turn. partly because you were here in his arms right now and if he turned, you being gone would be reality and he didn't wanna face that. partly because he didn't want simon to see you like that. blood trickling down the side if your head, face smeared with blood and a wound in the abdomen. no, john wanted simon to remember you happy, smiling and alive.

he wanted simon to have that much, even if his own last memory of you was you begging him to stay happy after your death.

and he thought about it. as he cradled your body close, rocking back and forth, he thought it was simply impossible. as if he'd ever be happy again without you here.

he didn't notice simon walk closer, didn't see him walk around to crouch in front of him and only realised that he was here when he called out his name. he couldn't even hear it clearly, high pitched ringing in his head and blurring images in front of him, the feeling of your blood on your hands, it was all just too much.

" — tain? captain?" simon called out, his eyes locking with his and john knew that it costed ghost his everything not to stare at you. his skull mask laid discared next to him, his signature balaclava in its place as he kneeled down. john could see the way his hold on his gun was too loose and the way his hands were trembling just the slightest bit as placed his gun back in his holster. "we need to get out of here."

"doesn't matter," john replied, his voice not giving away the turmoil in his heart and the war that was going on in his head. "she's gone, ghost."

"cap — "

"my daughter, she — fuck, my kid," john exhaled shakily, his hands carefully pushing away the strands of your hair out of your face. "lord, i don't have a child anymore."

"captain — "

"you don't get it, i'm not a father anymore!" john exclaimed, his voice breaking in the middle of the sentence as reality settled in. the weight of it seeped into his bones and he knew that he would carry its weight for the rest of his life. until he saw you again. "i'm not a dad, anymore."

he couldn't let you go, couldn't place you down and let you be gone from him. he couldn't accept it and why would he want to? what kind of father would he be if he just accepted that he was never going to hear someone call him 'dad' ever again? he'd never hear the words 'i love you, dad' or 'good morning, dad' or see your face smiling at him after he came back from a particularly long and stressful deployment or have you hug him whenever you got a nightmare or drink tea with you and simon as he joked about your relationship with his lieutenant. how was he going to accept this cruel and wretched version of reality?

"you'll always be a dad, captain," simon spoke quietly, his hand reaching out to smooth your hand down and just like his own hands, john noticed that it shook. "always gonna be her dad."

john couldn't do anything except watch. he tried to move, his mind screamed at him to move but his body caged him down. the dead weight of you — his daughter — weighted him down and for a moment, he was so sure that he'd feel this weight for the rest of his life. because, how was he supposed to forget the way you asked him to be okay after you? how was he supposed to be okay after you?

how was anyone supposed to be okay after you?

he blinked, eyes stinging with tears that he refused to let down and looked towards simon who was too quiet. john looked at him, watched him as he leaned down until his forehead was pressed against yours and felt an invisible knife twist around his heart. he could see the balaclava move and figured he was saying something to you but the ringing in head refused to let him hear anything, though, he thought that he heard the words 'come back' and 'don't do this to me' and felt his heart break some more. he had never — never — seen his lieutenant look so hopeless. so defeated. not when he found out that you both had broken up for some indefinite reason, not when he got injured on a mission and the only thing he asked for was you, not when you had made it your mission to paint his nails and only relented after his nails were a shade of wine red.

no.

john had always seen ghost so full of life around you. he had always seen his eyes crinkling at the corners as he spoke to you in low tones, always seen his shoulders dropping from their usual tense posture whenever he was around you. he had always seen him as simon around you.

john looked at him and realised that not only did he lose his daughter, simon lost the love or his life. he lost the one thing and one thing only that made him the happiest. he knew simon loved you even though he hadn't said the words out loud out, he knew he loved you. it was evident in the way only you were allowed to hold onto his mask for him as he adjusted his balaclava, in the way he always listened to you speak about anything and everything under the sun and never once interrupted you, in the way he always brought back something for you from his missions, ranging from a rock to a dried flowers.

john looked at him and realised that at any cost, he'd have to make it through this, for simon. for your promise.

for you.

he nodded, not trusting his voice to say anything and moved to stand up, your head lolled against his shoulder as he placed his hand under your knees while the other wrapped around your shoulders. he stood up as carefully as he could, as if any movement would cause you discomfort and held on tighter to push himself to be on his feet and — you whimpered, your wound pressing against his vest and your dad stilled, frozen alongside simon whose eyes shot towards your face as you stirred, your expression scrunched up with pain.

it didn't take more than a second for ghost to abandon his gloves and check your pulse as you went still once again, forcing his hands to stay still. john pretended not to hear him whisper 'please' under his breath as he placed his hand on the side of your neck, mainly because he knew he would break down if simon didn't hold himself together.

he looked at ghost who nodded and then he was already off, walking swiftly in front of john and you as he put on back his gloves and drew his gun to clear out anything that could show up, making a path from their corner to the evacuation point. john walked as fast as he could without jostling you and mumbled rapid apologies as you groaned in pain.

"we're heading out," ghost informed soap and gaz who were on the other side of the floot, drawing out any left hostile parties left. he filled them in your condition and in less than thirty seconds, they were running towards the three of you, panting and guns drawn. "she has already lost consciousness and we need to get her back."

john could only walk wherever ghost turned, his movements a bit too robotic and as they cleared out the building, the only thought he had was you, your safety, your life.

he doesn't remember much of the ride home but judging by the blood — your blood — on his hands and clothes, and the number of times gaz asked him if he was okay, he wasn't sure if he wanted to.

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩

"so, i pass out from the pain and blood loss and your first guess is that i'm dead?"

"well, when you put it like that — "

"there is no other way to put it!" you laughed, instantly regretting your decision to do so as the action pulled on your stitches. "fuck — that's a bit dramatic, don't you think? did you even check my pulse?"

"listen — i was not thinking. my girl was just laying there in her own blood, what was i supposed to do?"

it's been more than a couple weeks since you've been discharged from the hospital, stitches in your abdomen and the side of your head but it's mostly inconvenient rather than painful if you could be honest and john and simon both know this because you have expressed this opinion far too many times.

john and simon both disagreed.

you wish you could say that they had toned the whole scary-guard-dog thing down ever since you got discharged from the hospital but you'd be lying. if anything, their protectiveness dialled a few notches up. if your dad was busy with something, simon stayed with you and vice versa.

now, your dad was protective. you had always known this. if you thought that there was no way he'd be able to get more protective than he was before this whole ordeal, you thought wrong. you weren't allowed to get up from your bed unless it was to stretch your muscles — (simon volunteered to help you with that. you dad threw his boot at him. thrice and then one more time for good measure.) — or to use the bathroom. you were on strict diet for the first week, mainly consisting of fluids and lots of proteins alongside the years' worth of medicine you had to take. he stayed home, officially on leave until he was sure you wouldn't collapse after standing for more than seven seconds and then he stayed for an extra week simply because he wanted to.

("i think i can pick up the remote without popping out my stitches."

"'m not talking any chances, kid.")

and then, there was simon.

if you thought that there could be no more increase in the protective measures after your dad, simon set out to prove you so wrong.

he stayed with you even after your dad went back to the base and that meant he stayed with you. you couldn't move an inch without his hand coming up to stabilize you — you told him you didn't need it, he disagreed — or just straight up pushing you back to sit down, gently and doing whatever you were out to do. it made your life just a tad bit difficult but you knew this was coming from a place of love — and fear.

"i'm okay," you smiled softly at your boyfriend, hands intertwining with his as you both laid on the couch while your dad worked in the kitchen, occasional shouts and gasps announcing his continued presence. "i'm okay."

"the fuck? you are not," simon's eyebrows were furrowed and you fought the urge to lean up and kiss the spot until he relaxed, partly because it would put pressure on your stitches and you did not need another lecture on basic medical knowledge by your dad and your boyfriend again. "don't make me tie to your bed."

"don't threaten me with a good time," you laughed softly at his blank stare, squirming away as he poked one of almost healed bruises. "fuck you."

"you're injured, not now," you could practically feel the smirk behind his mask and gave him the best unimpressed look you could. "stop lookin' at me like that."

"when was the last time you slept?" you ignored his advances and slapped away his hand that was coming up to tug you towards him, looking him in the eye. "you look worse than me."

"i'm breaking up with you."

"no, you're not."

"no, i'm not," simon sighed, his hand coming up to run through his grown blonde hair that he had intended to get cut — not by you because he doesn't trust you with scissors anywhere near his head. "i slept last night."

"liar," you narrowed your eyes at him, taking in the dark circles around his eyes and the way his eyes were droopy and how his eyes remained close when he blinked. "i heard you watching that movie you told me you hated."

"i was not — "

"simon," you sighed and he stopped speaking, knowing he was in for a lecture from you about his sleeping habits and his biological sleep cycle — something you wasn't even sure existed in his body. "love, why haven't you been able?"

he stayed silent, his hands fumbling with your hands and twisting your rings around your fingers. he almost smiled when he noticed the ring that he had made for you on your ring finger, a small 's' in the middle with a semblance of a tiny heart next to it.

"haven't been able to," he replied finally, his voice gruff with faux annoyance directed at your ability to coax answers out of him just like that. "too much going on."

you knew what he meant by that. the last couple weeks have been hectic to say the least and you couldn't help but feel guilty about being a part of the reason for your boyfriend not being able to sleep. "i'm sorry."

"shut up, what for?" he rolled his eyes and placed a fleeting kiss to your cheek, very near to your mouth before leaning back. "i'd take a few sleepless nights over your bleeding out any day."

you didn't say anything, just tugged on his arms firmly enough to make him get the hint and settle back into the mountain of pillows you had brought down from your room. he looked at you, a confused look in his eyes but complied as you pulled him towards yourself and wrapped your arms around him, smiling when he nuzzled into the crook of your neck and finally, relaxed. he pulled back just for a moment, one of his hands coming up to squeeze yours when you frowned at the lack of contact while the other one pulled away his mask, leaving his face bare.

you had seen his face many times but each time, you found yourself falling in love more and more. you knew each and every scar that adorned his face, every inch of uneven skin. you had spent nights kissing all that he thought made him ugly and promised him that he thought so wrong. you said nothing as he looked at you once again, eyea squinting at you playfully before he was back in your arms.

"i love you so much, you know that?" you whispered, your hand playing with his hair. you could feel him press feather light kisses to your neck, his breath fanning over your exposed skin making a trail of goosebumps and you didn't mind it one bit. "you know that right?"

he hummed in reply, pressing himself as close to you as he physically could. you didn't stop playing with his hair, knowing how much it relaxed him and soon him, he went completely still next to you, his grip on your loosening just a bit as he went slack. you couldn't help but admire him when he was like this, his face free of the usual scowl that he pulled up with him at every table, the furrow of his eyebrow that you always kissed, the frown that he had whenever anyone spoke, it was all gone.

you didn't hear your dad come in, a tray of three steaming cups of tea in his hands and settled it down on the centre table, proud of himself. he picked up your usual cup, strawberries drawn on it with a few daisies in the middle spaces and gave it to you, smiling softly before turning to look at simon — who to his surprise, was fast asleep against your shoulder.

"he's knocked out," john remarked, making a mental note to make another cup of tea for simon whenever he woke up and settled back into his designated chair adjacent to yours. "never saw him this... relaxed."

"yeah, well," you sipped out of your cup before placing it on the side table, eyes flickering to simon's still figure before looking back at your dad, a small smile on your lips, "he's been pretty set on not letting me lift a finger."

"he's worried about you," your dad nodded and you couldn't help but feel your heart flutter. "never seen him so out of mind. you know he loves you, right? he would fold the earth in the half if anything happened to you."

"i know, dad," you replied, eyes locked on simon as he slept next to you. you could see his chest rising and falling with every breath he took, his lips slightly parted as he breathed in and out evenly. "i don't even know how i'm supposed to tell him just how much he means to me. i don't know where to begin."

"he knows," he stated, sipping out of his own mug — with small yellow crowns — and setting it back down. "you'll both make it, you know? don't need to see the future to figure that out."

you knew what he was talking about.

you'd make it. of course, you would. it was simon who held your hand randomly while you walked around your town. it was simon who made sure that you were always stocked up with your favourite candies and chocolates. it was simon who learnt how to make paper rings because you were singing that song about how you'd marry him with paper rings. it was simon, always.

and even if this lifetime was enough for you, you knew that you'll find yourself falling for him in every other life. in all the universes out there, in every version of reality, you'd find yourself in love with him. you knew this much, you felt it in your bones.

maybe in another life, you would've seen him from across the bar and he would've sent a drink your way. maybe you would've ran into him at a coffee shop and he would've asked you your favourite blend. maybe you would've been childhood friends and he would've always been in love with you.

it would always be you and him.

"yeah, i know."

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩

365 notes · View notes

bettyfrommars · 8 months

Note

Betty baby

how about a little one shot with Eddie and reader hooking up in readers car after a date 🥵

Ziggy my love, anything for you.

I did a lil twist on your request. I've been gone for a bit and this was the first thing I wrote when I got home yesterday, thank you for the much needed inspiration 🥹

Waste Away With Me

Eddie x older!fem!Reader

18+ONLY, smut, age gap, Eddie is in his early 20's and reader is in her early 30's, mutual pining, adoring!eddie, secret crush, friends to lovers, car sex, fingering, mutual masturbation, finger sucking, reader wears a skirt, well-timed but unfortunate Jimmy Buffet lyrics, reader is lonely and thinks she'll never find love. wc: 3.5k

--------

Eddie hadn’t meant to wait up for you to get back from a date with another guy like some lovesick dork, but it happened anyway.

He was sitting on the couch in his trailer when he saw the headlights sift through the curtains and heard the gravel crunch under the wheels of your approach, settling in between your trailer and his.

He tapped his cigarette into the full ashtray and looked at the clock; his heart fluttered in his chest, grateful that you were back earlier than expected. Either the movie part of the dinner date had been skipped, or there had been little to no hanky-panky afterwards, and this fed into the delusion that he still had a chance with you.

He waited impatiently to hear the clank of the heavy, metal door to your Buick LeSabre open and slam shut, hoping to hell you’d hadn’t brought this new guy home with you. He could handle the thought of you going on a date with someone—barely—-but the possibility of you inviting someone back to your bed, or you getting serious about some other dude was too gut wrenching to bear.

Don, your date’s name was Don, and when you’d told Eddie that he’d asked you out, Eddie wanted to show up at the fabrication shop where he found out Don worked and set his hair on fire.

If the guy even had hair.

You were maybe a decade older than Eddie, and Don was pushing 40, so maybe he was balding and hopefully you preferred long, shaggy hair and bangs that desperately needed a trim.

What if Don made you laugh? The thought made Eddie scowl. What if those adorable lines around your mouth made their appearance and you snorted a little bit all because of stupid Don? Eddie shot to his feet and went to the window.

A good 10 minutes had passed, and he hadn’t heard you get out of your car, so he decided to take a peek through the side of the curtains. What if Don was in the car with you, what then? What if he was kissing you?

His stomach in knots, Eddie had to know, either way.

He experienced relief to find that you were, indeed, alone, but something else was wrong.

Your hands were covering your face and your shoulders bobbed. Your hands fell to your lap long enough for Eddie to see through the windshield that your mascara was running down your cheeks and your skin was wet with tears.

You fumbled with the single, pathetic, balled up tissue in your hands, as you sobbed. The sobbing subsided for a few sniffles before there was another hitch in your chest and a whimper made you bury your face in your palms again.

But then a knuckle tap on your window made you jump.

Bent forward, with his face level to yours, Eddie was at the passenger side door, holding his hand up in greeting, lips folded in over his teeth into a pensive line. As an answer to his silent ask, you moved your purse off the seat so that he could get in.

You inhaled the warm, familiar scent of his Old Spice, nicotine, and leather. There was an extra note of cologne on him that evening, as if he’d just sprayed something on before he came out.

He saw you struggling to wipe your nose with that threadbare Kleenex and handed over the handkerchief from his back pocket.

You held it out in front of you with pause, as if you were considering something.

“You can blow your nose on it, I don’t mind,” he said. “In fact, it would be an honor.”

That elicited a snort-chuckle from you, and you did not blow your nose with it, but you did wipe snot off your lips and chin with a sad snarf.

The inside of the car was dark, but for the yellow glow from the radio as Hold Me Now by the Thompson Twins played. Eddie saw the familiar end of a cassette tape sticking out of the stereo as if it had just been ejected.

“So, the mixtape I made for you was that bad, huh? Too many ballads?” As if to suggest that his horrible taste was what made you bawl your eyes out.

You let your head fall back against the seat. “No, I love it,” you said, dry throat making your voice crack. “It’s the only thing I’ve been listening to all week.”

“Really?” He said it too fast, he was too excited. When he gave it to you, he said it was “no big deal” and he’d been making them for all of his friends, but that was a big fat lie. He’d spent weeks planning out which songs to add to it, and in what order they should go in, so that it all flowed and told a story.

A story about a next door neighbor with a serious crush.

You pushed the tape all the way in until it clicked and Send Me an Angel by Scorpions softly lit up the speakers.

One of Eddie’s favorite things about you was that you were normally just as chatty and weird as he was. A couple times a week, he’d come up on your porch for a beer, or go inside to share a joint, and the two of you would talk passionately for hours about some real oddball shit. You were excitable and goofy, just like him, and you’d recently confessed that you hadn’t felt this comfortable with someone in a very long time.

He overheard you telling one of your friends the other day that he was “like a brother” to you, and nothing could’ve smashed his heart or his hopes harder. Being referred to as a family member is sweet, but also suggests that you’ve entered strictly friendzone territory.

“Doooo you want to talk about it?” He stammered, fiddling with the zipper on his jacket. He’d be happy to just sit there and listen to music so you wouldn’t feel alone, if that is what you needed.

“Not really,” you said in a small voice. “I’m just never going on another date for the rest of my life, that’s all.”

Eddie sat up and turned his whole body towards you, leather jacket squeaking on the seat, and made a fist on his knee. “He didn’t…hurt you or anything, did he? If that Don guy said or did anything to make you upset I swear to god I will—”

“No, no, nothing like that,” you met Eddie’s gaze and were a bit taken aback at the intensity you found there. “He was just so…boring, and we had nothing in common, and I felt so alone.”

Eddie sat back and swallowed. A part of him wanted to kick up his heels and do a jig when you called Don boring, but the other part of him hurt to see you so sad.

You sniffed and wiped under your eyes with his handkerchief. “I’m the only one of my friends who’s still single, and I think I’ve finally come to terms with the fact that I’m going to waste away in this trailer park and die alone.”

Eddie cocked his head, adding the touch of a smirk to his lips. “We can waste away together, here in Margaritaville.”

“You did not just quote Jimmy Buffet.”

“Oh, yes. Yes, I did,” he bit his lip to hold back a smile. “Have you seen my lost shaker of salt, by chance?”

You stared down at your lap, indulging in a laugh or two before your expression turned somber again, forehead creasing. “Why does everything have to be so hard? I thought finding true love was supposed to be easy, or at least easier than this nightmare of a reality I’m living in.”

“This is easy. We make sense,” is what Eddie wanted to say, but he choked and adjusted his feet on the floorboard instead.

You groaned and put your head back again, closing your eyes. “I’ve been feeling so lonely lately, Eddie, like maybe I am the problem and I’m just unlovable.”

“Now that is crazy,” Eddie shifted closer, taking hold of your forearm to give it a squeeze. He searched your profile, eyes landing on your parted lips. “You’re so easy to love. I love—-”

My god, he really almost said it, out loud.

You turned your head and opened your eyes, waiting for him to finish.

“...this song,” he recovered, turning the volume up a single notch. “I love this song.”

It was Tangerine by Led Zeppelin.

You closed your eyes again, feeling another tear building at the rim of your lashes.

“But really,” he continued, shifting the volume down again. “I mean, I get it, “he huffed air out of his nose and moved his hands around as he talked. “Even when I’m with a bunch of people I still feel alone sometimes. Like I’m the only person in the world who feels the way I do.”

“Yeah,” you gave a big sigh. “Something like that.”

Another problem was that suddenly, almost overnight, you had developed feelings for your young, metalhead neighbor. You pushed them down as much as you could and forced yourself to go on this date with Don to try and distract yourself from having sexual thoughts about a guy that was ten years your junior. What would your friends think? A few of your friends were snobs, anyway, and expected you to marry a doctor, or at least an accountant; some stable man who could give you the picket fence dream.

But that was their dream, not yours.

Besides that, Eddie had plenty of love interests. You hadn’t seen him bring a date back to his trailer in months, but you’d been to one of his Corroded Coffin shows, and you saw the way the extremely cute college and high school girls looked at him.

Eddie wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans. “I know I don’t have to tell you how beautiful and smart and amazing you are. I mean, I’m sure you already know that.”

“Do I?” You asked, earnestly. “Do I already know it?”

“Well,” his eyes shifted, not sure where to land. “You should, I mean, none of the women in this town could ever hold a candle to you.”

Yikes.

Speaking of candles, was he blowing it? The way things were going, it was only a matter of seconds before he admitted to jerking off to thoughts of you every time he got in the shower.

You were both facing each other with your temples on the headrests. “It means a lot to me,” you couldn’t meet his eyes, so you stared at his adam’s apple. “That you think I’m beautiful and amazing.”

“I should tell you more often, then,” Eddie said softly, his heart racing. “Because I mean it.”

You looked down at your lap and the way you were absently picking at the ends of his handkerchief. “I wish I’d met someone like you when I was your age.”

The statement confused him a bit and he squinted. “Someone…like me?”

“Oh, you know,” you cleared your throat. “Someone I have a lot in common with, someone who makes me laugh,” you trailed off. “Someone I’m really attracted to.”

Eddie froze.

No one moved or said anything for a full minute.

“You’re attracted to me?” His voice trembled.

“Isn’t it obvious?” You gave a sharp, self-deprecating laugh. “Sometimes I’m sure the entire trailer park knows, and they're all judging me.”

The revelation made a little squeaky sound escape his throat. “But you said I was like a brother to you?”

You gave a confused smile for a split second, wondering where he might’ve heard such a thing, and then recognition dawned. “Oh, well I told my friend Judy that because I talk about you so much, I didn’t want her to think that…that you and I were…or that I was…”

“That you and I were what?” Eddie’s ears were ringing, all kinds of hope bubbling in his chest.

You got quiet again, wondering how far you wanted to take this conversation.

“Listen,” Eddie shifted to look at you with flushed cheeks. “I might be reading all of these signals wrong, but I want to kiss you so bad right now, it’s fucking killing me–”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

And then you dove for each other and had a meeting of mouths that was all teeth and wrestling tongues. Your seatbelt jerked you back, and you pulled away from him only to unbuckle it and throw it from your lap with a metal thump.

You’d never experienced this before; it was less like being kissed and more like being devoured, all feverish sucks and nibbles and eager moans. He held your face in his hands as you began to climb up and over to him. “If this is a dream, I don’t want to wake up,” he hushed against your lips.

The seats in your ‘68 Buick were spacious, and once your knees were straddled on either side of him, you cupped your hands around his throat and said, “touch me Eddie.”

Eddie’s hands stopped in the air, unsure of where to go, but then intuition had him put them on the bare skin of your thighs under your skirt and move them up your panty line. He brought a thumb down and passed it over the material, “you want me to touch you, like this?” As he said it, he found the top of your slit through your underwear and began pressing small circles there.

“Yesyesyes,” you pulled off of him just enough to meet his eyes. His cock twitched at the way you bucked your hips in his lap, eager for his touch.

“I love it when you look at me like that,” he breathed.

“Like what?” You slotted the side of your nose against his and brushed your lips together.

“Like I make you happy,” he punctuated it by dragging his thumb up and down in that concentrated area.

You threw your head back, exposing your throat for him to lick a stripe up, sucking some skin in softly to nibble.

You were fully grinding on him as you found his mouth again with yours. “I want…to make…you…happy…too,” you said between hot kisses.

His thumb smoothed down low enough to feel how much of your arousal had soaked through. “Honestly, sweetheart? I could die right now and be the happiest man alive.”

You could feel his cock grow thick and stiff in his denim as you rode him, and one of your hands went down there to fumble at the button and zipper on his jeans.

“I want to touch you,” your pussy actually rippled like a jellyfish climbing in the sea at the idea of having him inside of you. Once your thumb met with his leaky tip, you circled the head and Eddie groaned.

“Sit back for me,” he whispered. With his thumb still working your clit, you let your back rest on the glovebox and watched him pull his impressive length out. He kept his eyes on you, giving it a few short jerks while flicking his tongue out to wet his lips.

From that vantage, with your skirt up around your waist, he could see how damp the light purple of your panties were, and more milky liquid appeared at his tip. You pulled down the straps of your dress and released your breasts from the cups of your bra.

“Oh my godddd,” Eddie’s thumb worked faster on you, trying not to stroke his cock the way he wanted to because he was about to cum. “You’re so sexy, holy shit.”

You pushed off the dash and came closer, needing to be close to him. With your arms around his neck, Eddie’s fingers bypassed the cotton barrier and sank into your slick honey pot with a hiss and a curse. First one finger, and then two, and you reached down between the two of you to stroke him, making you both exchange moans of pleasure.

“Wait wait,” Eddie halted, continuing to thumb your spot. “I’m gonna cum like, right now.”

“That’s okay,” your hand stilled, but you bobbed up and down so that his fingers were fucking you.

“I can’t,” he gulped, breathlessly resting his forehead on yours. “Not before you.”

The thing about Eddie was that he could get hard again really fast for a second and third time, at least that’s how it was when he masturbated, but he wasn’t sure how to tell you that.

You shifted back against the glove box again, pulling your underwear to the side so that he could watch his fingers go in and out of you. You guided his hand out and brought his dripping fingers to your mouth to suck on them, loving the way his callouses felt on your tongue.

Eddie's eyes were locked on the action, muttering, “ohmygodohfuck.”

“Let’s do it together,” you breathed, biting your lip. You brought your own fingers to your slit and began the same circles Eddie had done, speeding them up. Eddie dipped his fingers inside of you again, scissoring them, picking up as much of your gift as he could before bringing them out in a mess to wet his cock with it. Your mouth fell open, watching his length glisten as he stroked it, never breaking eye contact with you.

His gaze dipped to your breasts briefly to watch you twist your hard nipple between thumb and forefinger, whimpering as your other hand moved faster. “Eddie..Eddie! See what you do to me?”

“Ahhhh,” Eddie held his thumb on his tip, right on the verge, and buried two fingers from his other hand inside you again. Your tight walls fluttered, clenching him, and the look on your face as you got close was too much for him to handle.

“This is—-oh fuck I’m cumming,” he gasped.

“Cum on me, cum all over me,” you begged, just in time for him to aim the joystick in your general direction, pumping hot white ropes onto your hand and cunt.

You watched him milking it as he twitched, and you rubbed his spend down your folds. You held his wrist to keep his fingers inside of you, and then your eyes were rolling back as your release exploded.

In the aftermath, the two of you took a minute to catch your breath. There was cum and saliva everywhere and neither one of you seemed bothered.

“This is the best part,” Eddie mumbled, taking his fingers out to suck the result of your orgasm off of them.

“Shit,” you lifted your head and looked around with a giggle. “We fogged all the windows up.”

“Good,” he clutched your waist to shift you and pull you closer. “That way no one can see us.”

Your car was blocked between the two trailers, but being seen by someone out walking their dog at night was always a risk. A risk that did not seem to have an ounce of importance at the moment.

You put your forehead to his and smoothed your thumbs over his cheeks, rocking so that the drips from your cookie box landed on his exposed length. “What I meant to say earlier is that I have this big, stupid crush on you, Eddie Munson.”

Eddie adjusted your skirt so that you were properly covered, and pulled you flush to him so that no one could get a cheap look at his girl's gorgeous tits.

His girl.

He wasn’t sure if you knew it yet, but you had his heart, and you could do whatever you wanted with it.

You ducked your head down to rest it on his shoulder and his hand cupped the back of your neck. “I’ve been wanting to ask if I could maybe take you on a date sometime?”

He was serious, but the timing made you laugh.

Eddie always made you laugh.

“I’m never going on another date ever again, remember?” The side of your mouth pressed into his shoulder and you wiggled closer to him. A part of you wondered if you were squishing him, like maybe his legs were asleep, but his hold on you was unrelenting.

“Oh damn, that’s right,” his other hand rubbed up and down your back. “I missed my window of opportunity thanks to Don.”

“I guess we’re stuck with more of whatever this was,” you murmured.

“Poor us,” Eddie smirked. “We might have to do more of this again in a few minutes.”

“If we have to.”

“Hey,” he nudged you so that you lifted up to meet his dark, searching eyes. “Kiss me if you’re mine.”

You were both smiling as your lips met, and it wasn’t long before you led him by his hand into your trailer while he hummed the chorus to Margaritaville.

#Eddie Munson fic #Eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #Eddie Munson x older!reader #older reader #Eddie Munson smut #Eddie Munson crush #Eddie Munson

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spidybaby · 11 months

Text

Stressed

Summary: When he's stressed and worried about work, that's the only thing on his mind.

Warnings: angst because I'm a sucker for it 😤

A/N: So I'm inspired, and you already know I love angst, I breathe angst, I eat angst. (Okay, I'm done exaggerating), but lemme know how you are? Are you drinking water? Hope you're fine 💐❤️

Since Kylian sent that letter to the higher-ups of PSG about not wanting to stay until 2025, everything is drama.

The french tabloids, for some reason, want him to look bad, want him to look like this ungrateful man.

He's experiencing too much pressure, Sergio leaving, Lionel leaving, possibly Verrati leaving. It was a mess. The whole teams is.

Especially now that this dumb reporter, her name is Sam, she's all over him about the whole side of him about the leaving, the selling, the quitting of Galtier. He's done with her, with the other reporters, with the ultras hating him for even breathing.

"Don't worry, Kyky, everything's going to be fine." Sergio pat his back, Kylian was one of the first ones to know about his retirement of the club. "Don't let that chick got to you."

"I just want her away from me." He drinks too fast for what he's used to. "Can't she cover something else?"

"Look, hermano." Ney says, he had to deal with the same reporter a few months before. "Just tell her something completely different from what she's asking, and she'll leave."

He knows she just wants to write something before anyone else, something that comes from his own, not for speculation. "Lie to her."

He scuff, it's not that easy to be away from her when she's also part of the PSG press people. She has access to everywhere. That makes him uncomfortable.

"Mira Kylian." Leo says. He's not new to this whole press drama. "Just don't mind her, ignore her, saying you have to be somewhere." He smiles, nodding to his advice.

Leo and Sergio are the ones he trusts with this media hate. They're goats, and they come from a long road. He can't deny that even Neymar is an expert. But he's been there for his own stupid mind, even tho he denied it.

He followed the advice Leo gave him, always ignoring her, saying the usual bonjour or a revoir. Nothing else.

That made her mad. She even asked Galtier for his number, not caring about writing him. That took him to the limit. He couldn't escape her. She was everywhere and anywhere at the same time.

"Don't stress, mon amour." You say kissing his cheek. You're massaging him, wanting to help him relax. "I know it's hard, but I'm here for you. It's only you and me."

You tried everything for him to relax, you didn't know the whole story. He never told you about this reporter. So you only think it's because of the whole letter drama.

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

"Bonjour, Kylian." Sam says, looking at him. She's blocking the door of the lockers. "Can we talk." She raised her eyebrows.

"I'm busy." He tries to pass her, but she's not moving, and the last thing he wants is touching her or making any type of contact. "Please move."

"Just five minutes." She says, begging him. "And I'll leave you alone forever."

"I prefer you to leave me alone now." His voice is this deep tone. He's done with her games. "Get out of the way." He ask nicely.

"Four minutes." She begged again.

"Sam, out of the way."

"Three."

He breathes deeply, and he's losing his temper. "I'll say it only one more time, and believe me, that I hate repeating myself." He grabs her arm, not hard but the right amount of pressure to move her gently. "I'm busy." He's mad. His whole day is ruined, thanks to her.

He enters his car, asking the driver to take him home. He's supposed to go to his mother's house, but he's too mad for that.

He arrived home funding. His train bag is now on the floor, you're home early, and you notice the noise, thinking maybe he fell.

"Are you okay?" You ask from your bedroom. Maybe he's hurt. "Ky? Amour?" You talk louder this time.

After a few minutes, you hear the footsteps on the stairs. A very agitated Kylian enters the room. "Hi, handsome." You say, opening your arms to him.

"Remember how you said you can take the stress out of me?" He sais breathless, you nod smiling. "Do it."

You throw the covers away from you. Ready to attack your boyfriend with kisses and attention. Your lips feel heavy on his own. He's tense. You can feel him.

There was no other reason for his mind to be elsewhere, hes uncomfortable by the fact that he has Sam on the back of his head, tunning after him, basically harrassi him.

There's no other reason for him to focus on anything other than you. The way your lips feel on his neck, the way your hands are touching the right places, the way you're making him feel good.

His hips are moving to a very fast pace. He's not one to take his frustration on you, but the way you're moaning his name and how your nails are scratching his back is making him lose control.

He doesn't know how, but it happens. He can't take her name out of his mind, now even when you're taking him so well.

When he dips his hips at a certain angle, the back of your head digs further into the pillow, and he attacks the exposed side of your neck. He's leaving red marks, marking you as his. The groan that's escaping his lips are pornographyc.

You could feel nothing but him, the weight of his body over yours, the thin layer of sweat on his back under your fingertips and on his forehead, making the hair close to your neck to stick to it.

What's making the entire situation so much worse is the fact that no matter how much he tries, he can't stop thinking about her. Not in a sexual way, but angrily wanting her to go away, to leave his mind alone.

His hand is griping your waist so hard. He knows he'll leave a mark. Moans coming out of his mouth. “Fuck, you feel so good.” he goes faster, knowing by the sounds you're making that you're close.

"Sam-" that's when he stops. His whole body stop. He doesn't know why he's saying her name. His eyes are open in a panic.

"Get off," you say out of breath. Your heart is beating as fast as if it's going off your body. "Get off of me."

You push his shoulders for him to get off of you. He pulled out and tried to explain. "Y/n, please, I didn't mean to do that."

Your mind is lost, one moment you're under him, holding him closer, kissing him and enjoying him.

And now you're pushing him away, not wanting him to touch you. You grab the covers of the bed. You wrap it around your body before running to the bathroom.

"Amour, please." He tries to grab your arms. "Amour." He almost catch you, but he's not fast enough.

The next thing he knows is you slamming the door in his face. He can hear the way you're breathing and how you sob. The sound is making his heart hurt.

"I promise I wasn't-" he can't even think of an excuse. He's fucked up, he's hearing the way you're crying and can't think of how to solve it. "Listen, she's a reporter that has been harassing me. She's always on me, and I".

You open the door, interrupting his explanation. You're standing there, tears running down your face, blanket around your body, eyes sad.

"Mon amour." He doesn't know if he can touch you. He doesn't want to make you more uncomfortable than what you already are. "I promise it's not what you think."

You pass him, walking to the room to get your clothes, dressing yourself again, hurried to get away from him.

"Please don't go." He says, hand grabbing your arm. "Please, let me explain." He feels like crying, not wanting to let go.

"Not now." You get off his hold. "I can't do this. Please get away from me." You push him lightly.

"Don't go, I'll go, but you don't have to go." He dresses himself, not wanting you to leave. "I'm fucking sorry." Your back is facing him. You can't look at him in the eyes.

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The past week, you were running away from Kylian, leaving extra early for work and returning while he was still training.

For him, it was hard not being able to speak with you. But you needed time, and he's willing to let you have it. Even if that hurt him in the process.

For you, it's been weird. You can't wrap your mind around the fact of what's going on. For you, it hurts that he didn't trust you enough to talk to you about what's happening, and the other part of you is your ego being hurt by him naming another girls name.

You were sure with a talk and being honest, you both can make up. You trusted him when he says he has never been with her, but you also needed to know the whole story.

The sound of keys jiggling is the way you know he's home. When he walks he sees you sitting on the couch.

He's tired, everyone is hating on him for the stupid tabloids, and he can't even find comfort in your arms because he hurt you without intended to.

"Can we talk?" He swears the sound of your voice is magical. He missed it. He missed you. He nods and takes a seat next to you. "Who's Sam?"

He didn't hesitate to detail the whole thing. The things his playmates advised him. "Kylian, why didn't you report her to the management?" You're mad, not with him but with her for being such a bitch and harass him about a stupid football news.

"Because I thought she was going to leave me alone." He yells, frustrated. "I can't do this anymore."

You hug him, caressing his back and him cry his frustration. His not crying about her. He's crying about the news, about the hate, about the media not leaving him alone.

"I'm here, don't cry." You kiss the top of his head. "I'm sorry I didn't hear you before."

"It's not you, I'm the one who made the mistake of letting her abuse her power." He let you dry his tears. "I'm so done."

"It's not your fault. Don't say that." You kiss his cheeks. "You're fine now, I'm not letting her or anyone hurt you or make you feel uncomfortable." You hugged him. Promising you'll never let him feel that way again.

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