#love the idea of finishing this not even labeling a year or anything. giving this out as is | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

inkedbybarnes · 1 month

Text

unclear

bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: everyone thinks you're dating bucky, except yourself.

word count: 2.4k

warnings: 18+ minors dni. miscommunication (i love this trope, sue me), angst with a happy fluffy ending, quite stubborn reader, implied smut if you squint, usage of petnames such as baby and doll. lowercase for basically everything.

i haven't finished anything in decades, but i suddenly had an idea just now and decided to write it down. surprisingly, i finished it? might have a lot of mistakes and such since i haven't proofread it yet. also, sorry for using lowercase for this, i kinda like how it looks. hope you enjoy this one!

dividers by @cafekitsune!

comments, reblogs, and likes are highly appreciated. thank you! ♡

“you're confusing me. so... you're not dating bucky?'

wanda tilted her head, confusion etched on her face as you spent your weekly girl's night with natasha. it usually consisted of eating food you all desired, drinking until you got wasted, and spilling secrets to one another.

although tonight, you weren't sure if you had any secrets to spill.

"as far as i know, no. we're just friends, teammates. nothing else," you answered with a heavy sigh. "can we talk about something else?"

"hold your horses, young lady! we are not skipping this topic again. you obviously want a label but he isn't giving you one!" wanda protested. she has been constantly asking about you and bucky's relationship for the past weeks, and you always had the same answer. you don't know.

"have you never talked about it with bucky? he looks at you like you'd get lost if he looks away for a second. not a single soul in the tower would think that you're just friends," natasha interjected, taking another sip from the bottle of beer she held. she had a point, as always. "if he's just playing with you, which i highly doubt for barnes, then just end whatever that is. you deserve better than having doubts and confusion, babe."

you've tried asking him multiple times, but every attempt felt like you were stepping on his boundaries. after years of being controlled by hydra, you knew it was possible that he'd hate the feeling of being rushed and entering a relationship that could potentially feel like a cage to him.

but natasha was right. your "relationship" was no longer anything friendly. he sleeps in your bed, claiming he slept better in it, and wakes up beside you to shower you with kisses. none of you even tried to hide it after some time. you always cooked your meals and ate them together, casually feeding one another and stealing kisses in between. you even stopped going on dates and you had no idea if you were exclusive. you deserved to know what your relationship with bucky was, but you were too scared to lose everything once you asked.

"we're not dating. i only see him as a friend, so you can both stop worrying about me." you lied through your teeth, your chest aching as you realised how stupid this was. you sighed and faked a smile, shifting the attention to natasha. "so, tell me about your date with steve! how was the first ever date of captain america since the 40s?"

wanda was distracted by the question, immediately bombarding the now blushing widow with questions. on the other hand, your mind flew away for a minute, finally deciding to get an answer from bucky.

the annual ball that tony stark held for, well, nearly anyone, was nearing. you only had two weeks left, and you haven't even gone out to find something to wear. it was hard to find any motivation to do all that effort when the person you've been waiting to ask you as his date hasn't asked you yet.

although, bucky had a tendency to get shy and hold back. you knew that. so here you were, standing behind the doors to the gym, knowing that bucky would be training at this hour. you still haven't asked him the question you were supposed to ask him, so you decided to do it all at once.

after you've finished your small pep talk, you opened the door to enter the room and your first instinct was to search for bucky.

considering that he was a huge chunk of a man, he was easy to find. however, the sight of him standing in front of a woman that was too close for your comfort wasn't delightful.

he didn't see you entering the room since he was facing the opposite direction, conversing with the agent that happened to be training as well. she had the sweetest and flirtiest smile on her face, bringing her hand up to his arm, slowly caressing it. you didn't mean to easily hear their conversation as you walked closer.

"so, do you happen to have someone for me to have as a date for the ball? i don't want to be lonely on that night, sergeant," the agent said with an extra pout, swaying her hips side to side like a child asking for candy.

"oh, yeah? i think i have someone for you," bucky replied, breaking your heart into pieces with how enthusiastic he was with his answer. "i'm sure you'll—"

you sniffed. unconsciously. not knowing that your tears were already falling, causing your nose to get stuffy. how pathetic, you thought.

your little sniff caught the attention of both the agent and bucky, looking at you in shock. although, the girl was more pleasantly surprised than the opposite. thankfully, you already had your tears wiped before they could see them.

"oh, we didn't see you there!" she greeted you with your name. "we were just talking about our date for this year's ball. who are you bringing?"

"i haven't decided yet, no one's worth it even if i try," you answered bitterly. "so you're going together?"

before bucky could answer, the agent already had her arm wrapped around his, happily smiling at your question. "yeah! amazing, right? i actually thought you two had a thing, but i guess not. glad things worked out in the end."

and that was your last straw. "well, enjoy yourselves. i have to go and find natasha."

you turned to leave, ignoring the loud calls of bucky. you were glad that you never asked him about your relationship and the ball. you were going to be hurt either way.

you spent the next hours stuck in your room, body covered with a thick sheet as you ranted about your frustrations to friday.

it was silly, you knew that, but you refused to call natasha and wanda to remind you of your stupidity and decided to let an ai robot listen to your problems instead.

"and he even flirted back! answering coyly like a teenager. he's 107 years old, fri!" you whined, not noticing the new nickname you've given the alternative intelligence. "ugh, now i have a broken heart and no date in sight. how did it get to this?"

"perhaps you must discuss this matter with sergeant barnes first. your conversation ended quite abruptly with no clear conclusion."

"no, i don't want the truth rubbed on my face," you said, grabbing another piece of tissue to sneeze in. "you restricted him from entering my room, right?"

friday answered with a yes, then you thanked her for listening and decided to get some sleep after tirelessly crying for hours. you knew you had a team meeting with the avengers in a bit, but you couldn't bring yourself to even walk a few steps.

your sleep ended and you were woken up with friday's reminder that it was time for dinner with the team.

with a groan, you pushed yourself off your bed. bucky would be there, but you were too hungry to care. it would be awkward, of course, but you had to face him at some point anyway.

your feet padded towards the door, opening it after trying your hair in a bun.

"ah, fuck."

you jumped at the voice and the body falling to the floor as you opened the door.

"bucky?" you asked, still in shock. "were you sleeping outside of my room?"

you watched bucky stand up, his hand massaging his aching nape as he looked for your eyes. "friday won't let me in. i waited outside instead. i guess i fell asleep during that," he explained, a frown forming on his face. "did you restrict me from entering our room?"

your eyes widened at his choice of words. our room. he considered your room to be his room as well. while that would've made you melt in an instant, you were still hurt to entertain that possibility.

"this is my room, barnes. not yours, not ours. and yes, i had you restricted because i couldn't face you yet. what do you need anyway?"

"i wanted to see you, talk to you." a flash of pain crossed his eyes. "whatever happened at the gym, it's—"

"bucky, you don't have to explain anything to me. we're just friends. it's my fault i assumed we were something. i just need some time to get over it."

"but i thought we were something as well..." he replied, his voice was almost as quiet as a whisper. "i thought we were dating."

"were we?" you asked, genuinely curious. "we never.. you never said anything. i mean, yeah, i wished it meant something, but i thought you wouldn't want to be trapped in a relationship with me, so i just waited. apparently, i was right and i can't blame you for that."

"right about what? the thing that happened in the gym this morning?" he asked. you nodded in response. "i know it sounds like i was flirting back, well i didn't know at the moment, until i asked steve who was clueless but he called nat to help me out and explained that it looked like i was flirting back. i wasn't. i was just going to suggest sam as a date for her. i would never agree to anyone."

oh. so he just wasn't interested in anyone at all.

"besides this one girl who's constantly been in my head. that's if she'd even give me a chance and say yes. i fucked it up badly before i could even ask her properly."

you knew what hoping got you, but you couldn't help but think that he was talking about you. he'd have to be clueless to say all those things in front of you only for it to be someone else.

"i love you, baby. i should've told you that, i should've made it clear sooner. i'm so sorry i let you have doubts when i could've been reassuring you about what i feel for you."

"bucky..."

"i would never feel trapped with you, doll. only you made me feel so much love and freedom. i'd be a fool to let go of that. i'm sorry it took a few hits and harsh words from natasha to make me realise that i wasn't giving you enough when you deserve everything." he held your face in his hands, bringing you closer to him. you felt breathless, tears threatening to fall but this time it was out of joy. "hydra made sure i had no voice to express myself. now, i'll use it to let you know that i love you so fucking much that it hurts when you're not around. i promise to work on it. if anything like this happens again, ask me, baby. demand things from me. i'll give you everything in a heartbeat."

"even if i ask for your arm?"

he laughed, a sound that was music to your ears. "it's yours baby. although, i do like fucking you with my metal—"

"bucky!" you scolded him, hitting him lightly on the chest.

"sorry, baby. couldn't help it. missed my girl so much."

his girl. you loved hearing that.

"it's only been a few hours. don't be silly," you reminded him, but you knew you also felt the same.

"i miss you even when i don't see you for a second." you couldn't help but laugh at his words. "something funny, doll?"

"sorry, natasha said something similar about you a few days ago," you answered. "i'm sorry for assuming so quickly, bucky. you deserved the chance to explain."

"and you did let me explain. i can't blame you for assuming and getting hurt when i never gave you the confirmation to believe otherwise. don't apologise for it, baby."

"i love you," you said, causing him to grin widely.

"yeah? you love me too?" he asked, a hint of pink tinting his cheeks. "this is official now, right? we're dating?"

you nodded happily, giggling as he landed a kiss to your mouth. "so, you wanna go to the ball with me?"

he kissed you again. "don't. i'm supposed to be asking you that. i had an entire thing prepared for you, i even dragged half of the team to help me out days ago. besides wanda and natasha, of course. couldn't let them tell you about it."

your heart swelled, he was already planning to ask you before all of this misunderstanding happened, and it could've been solved with communication. lesson learned, indeed.

"well hurry because i can't wait to say yes," you playfully threatened him, kissing the tip of his nose until the loud rumble of your stomach interrupted your sweet moment. "ah, right. i was on my way to eat dinner when i opened the door."

bucky laughed, his eyes twinkling witth adoration as he kept his eyes on you. "we can't have you starving, that's for sure. come, let's get you something." he held your hand, and dragged you the kitchen. he turned to look at you with a playful smile. "wanna cook together like the old times?"

you smiled. "like the old times."

in the middle of your cooking session, you heard whistles and claps along with the footsteps that entered the kitchen. you both turned to find the rest of the team with shit eating grins.

"finally! so is this real or do we need to smack your heads?" tony asked, his hand placed on his hip.

"it's always been real, stark," bucky answered, wrapping his arm around your waist. "except this time, i'm making sure my entire world knows it."

"i think everybody knows you have a thing for each other, barnes." clint added.

"i meant my entire world, not everybody." bucky looked at you with awe. "she's my world."

bucky's answer gained various loud reactions from the team, mostly calling him a cheesy old man and fake gags, but there you were, cheeks heating up as you looked back at him with the same amount of love, if not more.

and he did ask you to be his date to the ball the day after, surprising you with his so-called secret plan.

a year later, he surprised you with a ring as he knelt on one knee.

if you have any requests for bucky, send them my way! 💌

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky x reader #mcu #marvel #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction

2K notes · View notes

justmystyles · 10 months

Note

Ok so I was thinking Harry is very private and only seen with skinny girls but then he got a new bandmember but she is plus size and wears glasses so even tho they act cute and couply ? On stage fans just think they are really good friends but one night Harry slips up bc bandmember got hurt by flying objects and he rushes over to her giving her hugs and pecks asking over and over if she is ok ? And well he might’ve sorta forgot where they where but then didn’t care bc his baby girl got hurt hope that makes sense and hope you wanna write it

Line of Fire

check out my other works!

pairing: Harry Styles x band member plus size reader

word count: 1.5k

summary: you and harry have been keeping your relationship off the radar, but his concern for you overwhelms his need for privacy.

warnings: physical injury, not sure if that is one, but better safe than sorry.

a/n: thank you so much for this ask @fanficismydrug! i loved this idea so much, and it was so exciting to bring it to life. i hope it's what you were hoping for!

tags: @allthelovehes @ameerakane20 @ash-craze @bethanysnow @blue-ballad @brightlightsinlife @cute-as-ducks420 @fanficismydrug @gem1712 @golden-hoax @gothmingguk @groovychaosavenue @hillzrry @iceebabies @indierockgirrl @jerseygirlinca @jng4kook @jooniesbabie @kaverichauhan @lexiecamposv @n0vaj3an @ravenclawdirectioner @stylesfeverr @superchrystaldrug @tenaciousperfectionunknown @tiaamberxx @thechaoticjoy @theekyliepage @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @youknowwhaaat

You tapped gently on Harry’s dressing room door, almost immediately hearing him call for you to enter. As you stepped over the threshold, you watched his eyes peer up from the book he was reading, his pensive expression quickly turned to a smile as he folded over his page, putting the book down on the table behind him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you.” You apologize as you enter the room.

“Don’t be silly, you’re never a bother.” He outstretched his arms. “Get over here, angel.”

You happily sauntered into his embrace, kissing him softly as he pulled you into his lap. “Hi,” you smile against his lips.

You were so excited when you were hired to play trumpet in Harry’s Love on Tour band. It felt like the ultimate validation after spending so many years as a tormented band geek. You were in your element, playing music with people who loved it just as much as you did. Especially Harry.

You hadn’t expected you’d spend much time with Harry, he was the superstar, you were just in the background. But you quickly realized that was the farthest thing from the truth. The two of you clicked immediately, falling into this comfortable flirty friendship. You two had become inseparable, everyone on the tour knew that if they couldn’t find one of you, your best bet was to look for the other. Even the fans had noticed your back and forth on stage, and you were quickly labeled as Harry’s bestie.

You had been ‘friend-zoned’ so many times in your life that you were used to palling around with the guys you liked. It didn’t stop you from falling for Harry though. You knew he was flirty by nature, so you always tried not to read too far into his actions. He obviously didn’t see you the way you saw him. You’d seen the kinds of girls Harry had been photographed with, you’d heard all the rumors about his lovelife. None of those girls looked anything like you, they were these gorgeous supermodels with tiny waists. You would never be that, so you just settled for being his friend.

But then, there was a shift. Harry’s touches started to linger a little longer, when you would hang out and watch movies, you noticed he started to sit closer and closer. And then, one day everything changed. You had just finished sound check, and Harry asked you to come back to his dressing room with him. And he took that opportunity to confess his feelings for you. You had been together ever since.

“You’ve been busy today, I’ve hardly seen you.” Harry pouted, you giggled before biting his bottom lip gently.

“I know baby, I’m sorry. I promise I’m going to make it up to you.” You wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in for a lingering kiss.

“Mmm, you always do.” He sighs, squeezing your hips gently.

“Oh, I meant to ask you. How’d your date go the other night?” He gives you a confused look. You chuckle as you pull out your phone, tapping a few times before pulling up a deuxmoi post that was submitted of Harry, the caption saying he was out on a date with a mystery blonde.

Harry’s eyes soften, and he lifts his hand to your cheek, stroking it gently. “Angel, you know that’s nothing right? It was a business dinner.”

“I know, I’m just joking around.” He smiled widely at your words and pulled you in so that your head was resting against his chest.

Harry liked to keep his private life to himself. He felt that he gave so much to everyone all the time, that he wanted to keep some things just for him. Your relationship was one of those things. You were fine with that, you didn’t need to parade your relationship around to the world to know it was real.

Later that night, you were onstage playing your heart out. You and Harry had been playing off each other all night, like you usually would. He would also shoot an occasional wink, or sly smirk in your direction every now and then.

The crowd had been particularly rowdy all night, but as the opening notes to Watermelon Sugar began, the screaming crescendoed and people began truly losing their minds. Harry and the band had gotten used to things being thrown onstage, you had gotten pretty good at dodging the assorted items. Until you weren’t.

You were so caught up with the energy in the room, watching Harry drink it all in and give it right back to them, that you didn’t see the watch soaring in the air. But you definitely felt it when it hit you in the side of the head, knocking you to the ground.

Harry heard the crowd collectively gasp when you went down. He looked around, his brow furrowed in confusion, looking for the scene that caused such a reaction. He turned behind him and saw you on the ground, wincing in pain and holding your head.

He ran full speed toward you, dropping to his knees in front of you. He tossed his microphone on the riser beside you before collecting you in his arms.

“Y/N, are you alright?” He asked frantically, stroking your hair. He felt you nod against his chest, but it wasn’t good enough. “Talk to me angel, I need you to say it.”

You pulled back, tears streaming down your face, you looked up at Harry with a sniffle. “I… I’m.. it’s okay. You n–need to finish.”

“Oh sweetheart,” he takes your face in his hands, leaning in to kiss your tear stained cheeks before turning you to inspect the spot where you were hit. It was already starting to bruise, and there was some blood dripping down. He looked up at Pauli signaling for him to toss him a towel. He pressed it to your head gently as he tried to calm you down.

“You’re alright baby, I’m right here. I’m so sorry angel, I love you so much.” The words flew from his mouth rapidly, seemingly unaware that his nearby microphone was picking up on all of it.

Once you composed yourself, you reached beside you, grabbing your glasses that had fallen off when you hit the ground, and placing them back on your face. “Sorry Harry, you didn’t have to stop everything for me.”

“Of course I did,” he assured you. “You’re my girl, you come before anything, always.”

A wave of murmurs washed through the crowd at Harry’s words. Tens of thousands of people were all watching with rapt attention as he cared for you so tenderly, and professed his love for you. Their confusion and curiosity quickly turned into a chorus of ‘awwws’ when they watched Harry press his lips against yours.

The sound brought you both back into the moment, suddenly realizing that you were still onstage, and all eyes were on the two of you. Your face turned bright red, you quickly brought your hands up to cover it. Harry chuckled, pulling you close.

“I guess you’re about to get your deuxmoi debut, angel.” He joked.

“And tiktok, and twitter, and everything else.” You chuckle in response.

Harry pulled back so that he could look you in the eyes. “C’mon, let me walk you off and get you comfy, then I’ll come back and finish up here.”

You shake your head quickly. “No, I want to finish the show. I can do it.”

“Are you sure?” He asked, his tone thick with worry.

You nod and stand up, picking up your trumpet to show him you were fine. He shrugged, giving in to you. He knows how stubborn you are, it would be easier just to finish the show. He gets up as well, picking up his microphone with one hand, and taking your hand with the other, leading you to center stage.

“She’s okay!” He announced into the microphone, lifting your arm up in the air.

The crowd erupted, and you curtseyed shyly. You looked over to Harry, who was already looking at you, you could see the adoration in his eyes as he lifted your joined hands to his lips.

“Alright,” Harry returns his attention to the crowd. “Shall we try that one again?” The crowd cheered and Harry let go of your hand. When you turned to return to your spot onstage you jumped suddenly when you felt Harry’s hand playfully tap your backside. You shot him a wink over your shoulder and he smiled in response.

You waved off your fellow band members as they all asked if you were alright, and if you were sure you wanted to do this. You lifted your horn to your mouth, showing everyone that you were fine and ready to move on. The song began, and the rest of the show went off without a hitch, Harry continuing to look back at you, giving you questioning thumbs ups to ensure you were feeling alright, you returned them all with a wink.

You were alright, you were great even. You knew you didn’t need the validation or acknowledgement of his fans for your relationship to work, but it felt really nice to know you had it anyway.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x band member #harry styles x plus size reader #harry styles headcanon #harry styles fluff #harry's house #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry edward styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #love on tour #harry styles blurb #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot

924 notes · View notes

stardustvanfleet · 3 months

Text

Rediscovery — Josh Kiszka x F!Sapphic!Reader

SMUT. 18+ ONLY! MDNI!!!

Pairing: Josh Kiszka x F!Sapphic!Reader

Word Count: 10k

Summary: Your crush on your best friend, Josh, has been becoming harder and harder to ignore. There’s only one thing holding you back from admitting your feelings— most of your experience has been with other women, and you know that Josh’s history is equal and opposite, having mostly been with other men. But after one of your usual nights out, aided by a few drinks and a joint, things are finally coming to the surface. And you’re about to rediscover everything, together.

Warnings: Friends to lovers smut with switchy!Josh. Oral (m & f receiving), fingering/handjob, unprotected sex, dirty talk. Both the F!reader and Josh are written as explicitly queer in this fic.

A/N: This might be one of the most self-indulgent fics I’ve ever written… and I couldn’t be more excited to finally share it with everyone after spending the last few months working on it. I’ve noticed that even though there’s a huge sapphic community in the Peaceful Army, there aren’t a lot of fics written from the perspective of an explicitly queer woman! I absolutely poured my heart into this one and I have some amazing friends I need to thank for the endless encouragement and inspiration. My best friend, my love, my moonbeam @sinsofstardust — thank you for all the hours of discussion that lead to SO many incredible ideas. I love you ENDLESSLY!!! I also want to give HUGE thanks to my loves, @jakesguitarsolo @losfacedevil @kenobicoffee for being my beta readers and giving me the motivation I needed to finish writing 10,000 words… I love all of you SO much 🤍

FIC BEGINS BELOW THE CUT!

There was just something about Josh Kiszka.

Maybe it was the way he seemed to radiate a kind of warm, exuberant energy; one that was impossible to ignore from the moment he walked into the room. Maybe it was the little gap between his teeth when he grinned that you’d found yourself immediately drawn to, or those wide, sparkling brown eyes. There could have been a hundred reasons, and, in truth, it was more than likely that there were that many— and then some.

Regardless of what had caused it, the fact that you had a rapidly developing crush on your best friend was becoming harder and harder to push into the back of your mind.

You and Josh had met almost a year ago now. One of your favorite bars downtown had karaoke nights on Thursdays, and on a whim, you had come in after a particularly stressful day at work. You weren’t planning on doing anything but sip your drink and listen to strangers perform their favorite songs, but to your surprise, the curly-haired man sitting next to you at the bar had struck up a conversation so easily and naturally you couldn’t help but fall comfortably into chatting with him. The two of you had a lot of things in common, with a similar love of music and an interest in meditation. And when he told you he was going to go up and sing, he offered his arm as an invitation, which you gladly took, leaving you blown away by his voice as he covered Adele better than anyone you’d ever heard. The two of you had spent the entire night talking, and had exchanged numbers with the intention of hanging out some more, and over the next several months, you two had become incredibly close. And yet— there was one important caveat that, beyond his standard affectionate touches, had kept things between you and Josh entirely platonic.

One of the biggest things that you and Josh had bonded over during your numerous deep conversations was the similar way you both seemed to experience your sexualities. Like Josh, you didn’t put a label on yourself, finding that the way you felt love and attraction to be hard to pinpoint under one term, but the majority of the lovers you’d had throughout your life had been other women. Josh’s history was both equal and opposite, with his experience mostly having been with other men. Being queer was something that was extremely important to both of you, and you knew that. And yet, throughout it all, the increasing feelings you held for Josh were growing stronger and stronger. Eating you alive. Burning into your mind and body.

Talking to Josh was always so easy. So why did it feel so impossible to breach this particular topic?

It had been another one of your frequent nights out with Josh. The two of you had gotten into a routine of meeting up at least once a week for drinks and a joint or two, and it quickly became evident to you that spending time with Josh was undoubtedly the highlight of your week. Knowing you’d be able to sit with him, laughing and joking and talking about everything that had stressed you out over the past several days, had become a thought that would get you through even the most difficult times. You tried not to linger too hard on what this could possibly mean for you and your heart, and instead let yourself just try to enjoy the present moment with the ethereal man sitting beside you on the couch.

It was late, very late. Tonight, you’d met up with Josh at a local bar that he had introduced you to a few months earlier, one that was only a few blocks from his apartment. His neighborhood was easy to get to from where you worked, but it was admittedly somewhat out of the way from where you lived. By the time the two of you left the bar, the trains had stopped running, and Josh had insisted that you shouldn’t have to pay a small fortune for an Uber when he had a perfectly good spare room in his apartment.

Josh’s apartment was just as cozy and inviting as he was, and his living room featured a low coffee table surrounded by beanbags and large floor cushions. The couch was pressed back against a cream-white wall decorated with prints and paintings that surely all had a story behind them, framed by the glow of string lights and the numerous plants both lining the walls and hanging from the ceiling. He had immediately offered you one of his t-shirts, and a pair of his own pajama pants that fit you surprisingly well, given that you were both of similar height.

And now, here you were, sitting side-by-side with Josh on his couch as he lit up a joint, with one of his favorite records playing softly on the turntable in the corner. The domesticity of the moment was not lost on you— the clothes you had borrowed still smelled like him, his intoxicating androgynous scent of spicy bergamot and soft jasmine. You both had already had several drinks over the course of the night, and Josh’s cheeks had flushed to a familiar rosy pink that signified his tipsiness. As of right now, all of your energy was going towards not letting your gaze linger on how beautiful he looked. On how hard your heart was beating.

As Josh took a long drag from the joint, his eyes fluttered shut, and you felt your heart skip a beat, unable to stop yourself from watching him. You were still gazing at him when his eyes slowly opened through his long exhale, the cloud of smoke intertwining with the plumes rising from the incense he had burning on the coffee table. He turned to face you as he cleared his throat a little, giving you an affectionate smile and holding out the joint for you to take, which you gladly accepted. Your fingers brushed his as he passed it to you, and you tried to ignore the way the contact made your brain start to buzz.

Now Josh was watching you as you took your hit, his eyes already a little glazed over as the high began to settle in. That was when he spoke, using his favorite pet name for you that you liked far too much to ever admit. “Doin’ alright, mama? Hope I’ve been a good host, though if I haven’t, I’ll be blaming the Fireball.”

You couldn’t help but laugh a little as you exhaled your first hit, nodding towards Josh and managing a grin as you said, “Josh, I promise, you’d be a better host blackout drunk than most people would be sober.”

His face lit up at your words, and he let out a laugh of his own as he replied, “I’ll be sure to hold you to that statement if I manage to set the whole damn place on fire,” his eyes lazily following the plumes of smoke you had exhaled before his gaze fell back on you when you giggled, his pupils blown wide in the low light.

“Okay, now that sounds like you,” you teased, moving to pass the joint back to Josh. As the familiar hazy feeling began to settle over your mind and body, you found yourself inching just a bit closer to him as he took it from between your fingertips, bringing it to his lips with a smirk and a twinkle in his eye as you continued, “Well, if it comes to it, I’ll make sure to implement an accidental-house-fire clause in my perfect host assessment…”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” he grinned, the joint dangling between his teeth as he did so, and when his mouth suddenly closed around the end to pull a deep hit, the sight of his plush, puckered lips sucking around the joint was enough to make your head spin. He held the smoke in for a moment, before pulling the joint from his lips with two fingers, letting his jaw fall slack and exhaling the smoke in one large cloud, a sight so effortlessly sexy it made your breath catch in your throat. Josh turned to you, and you thanked your lucky stars that any difficulties you were having finding your breath could be chalked up to the smoke now beginning to accumulate in the room. His head cocked to the side just slightly as he looked over at you, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, his eyes having grown heavy-lidded as the weed began to take its effect. “Well, I’ll say tonight’s adventure got us off to an interesting start…”

You began to giggle again, memories of the evening you two had enjoyed so far flashing through your mind. Overall, it had been another fun and relaxed night out, with you and Josh having met at the bar and recounted how the past week had gone in your usual playful fashion, delving into the stress you’d been dealing with at work and his frustrations with his brothers through overdramatic storytelling and a lot of inside jokes.

After you two had been out for an hour or two and were beginning to feel pleasantly tipsy, two people had sat down at the small high-top table beside yours— a guy and a girl that looked to be around your age. They had been speaking loud enough that it quickly became evident that they were on a first date… and it became increasingly clear to you and Josh throughout the night that this couple’s date was not going well. You had spent the next hour or two getting increasingly tipsier and trying to stifle your laughter whenever the man at the other table made another comment about his crypto startup.

“We really got our own personal reality TV show tonight,” you agreed with a laugh, unable to take your eyes off of Josh as he took another drag, his brows furrowing for a moment as he held the smoke in. Beginning to exhale, he started giggling through it, and you felt your heart rate heighten even further.

“Talk about shitty dates,” he said, shaking his head as if to express pity. “And I’ve been on my fair share of dates with mediocre men…”

“That guy doesn’t even get the recognition of being called mediocre,” you said decidedly, taking the joint when Josh offered it to you again, before he leaned back against the couch, stretching his arms out against the back of it as he watched you speak and grab the lighter. “He didn’t even let her get a word in edgewise…”

“Ouch! Tell me how you really feel…” Josh said with feigned betrayal, making you laugh again and move even closer to him so you could smack his arm playfully— the feeling of his firm bicep underneath your hand making your brain grow cloudy for a moment.

“Oh, shut up, Josh… it’s cute when you do it,” you teased, feeling a twinge in your own heart while using words that were so secretly reflective of your own feelings, but this was how your friendship with Josh had always been. Verbally and physically affectionate, especially in these moments—- but platonic. Never escalating. “Besides, you don’t ramble about crypto…”

Josh nodded, grinning and sticking his tongue between his teeth; “Okay, you’ve got me there.” While gazing over at him, you found yourself caught off guard by the way his cheeks suddenly seemed to be reddening even further. Reminding yourself that Josh blushed frequently, and that this could be caused by any number of things, you did your best to shove any distracting thoughts as far back into your mind as you possibly could while lighting up the joint again. It’s nothing. He’s your best friend; that’s all. Your thoughts, however, were interrupted by Josh’s voice, which continued, “Although, I don’t think he’s as bad as the guy I saw that one time who yelled at the waiter…” As Josh recounted how awful this one particular date was, complete with impressions of the terrible guy in question, you were giggling wildly, the high only intensifying the absurdity of the guy’s entitlement in the story.

“And that is exactly why it’s been so long since I’ve dated a man,” you laughed, shaking your head, remembering the nightmarish experience you had a few years ago that had made you opt for a long break on going out with men. “The last date I had with a guy? Absolutely terrible. I swear… he was trying to get in the Guinness Book of World Records for ‘most complaints on a first date’…”

Josh laughed at your sarcasm, watching with amusement as you took your hit. You could feel his eyes on you, even when your own eyelids fluttered shut thanks to the smoke you were holding in. You let out a long, slow exhale, and when you opened your eyes to let your gaze fall on Josh again, you found yourself wondering if he had inched a bit closer while you weren’t watching him— then quickly doubted your own assumption, telling yourself it must be the high only making it seem that way. Once you had taken your hit, you continued, hoping you were maintaining your external composure, “Seriously, you’d think he had a personal best that he was trying to beat. Nothing was sacred. The restaurant, the people around us, my outfit…”

“Your outfit?” Josh asked incredulously, shaking his head in astonishment as you handed him the joint again, which was now over halfway gone. “Well, if he screwed it up with you, I already could’ve told you that he had bad fucking taste, but that really seals the deal…”

You felt heat rising in your cheeks at the compliment, reaching out and squeezing his arm affectionately in thanks without even thinking, making him giggle— the sound of which left you positively reeling. The high which had settled over you made everything feel a bit hazy, a bit dreamy, on top of the fact that you couldn’t take your eyes off of Josh. Everything about him was just as intoxicating as the liquor and the weed you’d shared that night, if not more so, and you could feel your heart hammering in your chest as he took another slow, long hit, while you continued talking to fill the silence that threatened to tug even harder on your heartstrings. “Seriously, though… I can’t believe he was the last man I ever fucking kissed.”

Josh’s head suddenly turned to face yours, the joint smoldering between his fingertips. He raised an eyebrow, and gave you a look that mixed pity with disbelief, along with… some other emotion, one that you couldn’t quite place. “You actually kissed that guy, mama?” There was a touch of irritation in his voice that, if you didn’t know better, you might have placed as jealousy.

You kicked yourself mentally for the thought, while simultaneously, you hadn’t moved your hand from Josh’s arm. For some reason, the pull felt magnetic.

Scoffing a little, you nodded, saying, “I know… not my ideal scenario.” In your tipsy, high state, the words seemed to be spilling from you without any internal consideration, and suddenly, you found yourself blurting out, “I mean… him? Why couldn’t it have been another guy, someone I actually like being around… or literally anybody else?”

As soon as the words fell from your lips, they were hanging in the air. Floating. The breath left your lungs in an instant when you realized what you’d just said, as Josh’s brows furrowed for a moment, those particular words seemingly bouncing around inside his mind. He blinked a couple of times, his lips parting slightly, and it was impossible not to notice the way his gaze seemed to intensify, studying you a little. He cocked his head, the rise and fall of his chest having intensified as you felt your heart rate heighten even further— and that’s when he finally opened his mouth to speak, his brown eyes on you, his pupils blown wide.

“Y/N… do you… do you want it to be… somebody else? The last man you kissed?”

Your mouth fell open, but your thoughts were moving so much quicker than your words could. All you could manage was a soft utterance of “Josh…” as his gaze once again fell to your lips. More openly this time. Lingering. Your head was spinning, your fingertips beginning to grip tighter at his arm. You knew you had to find your words before you lost the wave of courage that was beginning to wash over you, and breathlessly, you let out a soft, “Yeah, I do… I just never thought…”

All coherent thoughts fell apart when Josh’s hand suddenly rested on top of yours, and you trailed off, your breath catching in your throat. Quickly and almost effortlessly, without ever letting his gaze leave yours, he ashed the smoldering joint in the little glass tray on the table with his other hand, and he murmured, “Neither did I…” beginning to lean closer, starting to close the distance between the two of you. Through your rapidly increasing lightheadedness, your lips were already parting in anticipation, your mind racing, your hands trembling. Inches turned to centimeters, and then millimeters.

And when he finally caught your lips with his, it was as if the whole world melted away around you. There was nothing else. Nothing but Josh, his lips taking you in passionately and eagerly, the feeling of his warm, flushed skin against your own…. and, soon enough, his tongue swiping across your bottom lip, as if begging for entry— which you couldn’t help but grant. You could feel his soft facial hair brushing against you as he deepened the kiss, and the feeling was both new and dizzying. All inhibitions you had been holding within you melted entirely away as Josh licked into your mouth, and you found yourself falling into him, your bodies colliding and hands beginning to reach out, touch, grab. Without ever letting his lips leave yours, he was suddenly pulling you by the waist into his lap, and you were letting him, throwing your arms around his neck and fully straddling him, savoring the heat of his body underneath you, the feeling of his firm, solid chest… god, it was all so new, and intoxicating beyond belief.

His kiss was warm, inviting, and all-consuming. A fire had been lit within you, burning incessantly and licking up through your lower stomach as Josh let out a soft sound resembling a moan right into your mouth. It was so pretty, with the slightest hint of a whine, and the thought of hearing more from Josh… sounds increasing in need as he slowly unraveled… immediately made you lightheaded with arousal. An involuntary moan that matched his in its intensity slipped from somewhere deep within you as Josh’s tongue explored your mouth, and the instant tightening of his grip on your waist and arching of his hips right up against you proved beyond any doubt that your sounds were eliciting a similar reaction from the man beneath you. You moaned again, louder this time, and Josh groaned immediately, pulling back just enough to murmur a breathless “You sound… fuckin’ divine, mama,” before hungrily pulling you right back in, your hands sliding up to tangle in his curls, tugging at his roots as he hummed with satisfaction and need, right against your lips.

You were rolling your hips against him now— and with a nearly overwhelming shock of desire, you were suddenly aware of the way Josh was hardening underneath you as he continued to sigh and moan into your mouth. Most of the people you’d been with didn’t have the anatomy that Josh had, and the realization that you were making him hard had you lightheaded. Breathlessly, you started giggling into the kiss, and he pulled back for just a moment to look at you curiously, his cheeks flushed red and his brown eyes wide, sparkling. “What are you giggling at, mama?” he asked playfully, sticking his tongue between his teeth as he watched you rock against him, his pupils dilated with lust.

“It’s just… oh, fuck…” you giggled again, throwing your head back for a moment as you let the feeling of him underneath you just wash over you. “God… I forgot what that felt like, Josh….”

He was licking his bottom lip now, looking just as giddy and flustered as you felt. When Josh’s gaze pulled itself away from your eyes for a moment, he let it drag down your body, right down to where you were grinding down onto him, before right back up to resume looking right at you– as if he were able to see something far deeper in you than what was on the surface. There was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

“Tell me, mama…” he started, his voice low and breathless, his eyes remaining on you as he began to roll his hips to the rhythm you had established. “...tell me how it feels.”

“Fuck,” you whimpered, his ability to slip so easily back and forth from needy to commanding making your head spin, and the word slipping out made Josh lick his lips, clearly enjoying being able to watch your expression shift as your arousal grew. Focusing on every feeling, you breathed out, “So good, Josh. Feels so fucking good…”

“Paint me a picture, mama…” he sighed, his eyes glazed over with desire, his hands beginning to glide up and down your body, exploring you slowly and passionately, as though trying to commit your every inch to memory by means of touch alone. Everything had escalated so suddenly, in such a frenzy of accidental admissions, and you didn’t even care. You couldn’t even begin to think of a damn thing beyond what was happening in this present moment, and just how fucking badly you needed him. You couldn’t believe how wet he had made you so quickly.

His desire to hear you speak on your pleasure was intoxicating. You were breathing heavily, unable to take your eyes off of him. He looked angelic, his curls framing his face so delicately and beautifully despite the way your fingers had been knotting into his hair moments earlier. Josh was practically glowing in the dim, warm light, his features illuminated in a way that was simply and undeniably breathtaking. There was a look in his eyes that was making your whole body tremble, and the feeling of his cock continuing to harden underneath you was almost overwhelming. You had never felt an ache quite like this one before. It was different, and it was… good. Focusing all of your attention on exactly what you could feel beneath you as you both grinded against each other, the words left your lips in a breathless, rambling moan.

“Feels… so fucking hard… and thick, Josh… oh, God… I’m soaked… I’m burning for you…”

He let out a shaky groan, his plush lips falling open as he watched your eyes flutter shut while still rocking against him— and you let out a soft cry of need when you felt him twitch against your clit through the layers of fabric between you. “Fuck… mama, you’re a poet…” he panted, leaning his head back for a moment as he bucked his hips up against you. “God… It’s been so fucking long…” When the words left his lips, the thought occurred to you that, just like it had admittedly been a long while since you’d been with a man, it had likely been just as much time since Josh had been with a woman— and the realization somehow made your hunger for him grow even greater.

“Too many clothes,” you managed to gasp out, and Josh was nodding, his eyes having darkened even further, allowing himself to pull his hands from your body long enough to sit back and watch as you pulled your top— his own t-shirt —over your head, throwing it onto the floor without a second thought. You had taken your bra off when you changed into his pajamas, and the sight of you topless was enough to make Josh’s breath audibly catch in his throat, his eyes wide and ravenous, taking in every last inch of skin that had been revealed to him.

“Fuck,” Josh breathed out, his cheeks flushed with arousal, “You are so fucking beautiful…” his words making your head spin as he found the hem of his own t-shirt, tugging it over his head and tossing it to the floor alongside yours. You had seen Josh without a shirt on before, but never anything like this, and being so close was damn near overwhelming. Immediately, you were running your hands up his chest, savoring the feeling of his toned, firm skin underneath your own.

“Josh, you’re fucking beautiful,” you sighed, and the look in his eyes was unlike anything you had ever seen— astonished, adoring, voracious. His own hands began to slide up your body, mirroring the way you were exploring his, before moving to cup your breasts. Dizzily, you were left reeling at the size of his hands, his long fingers, the way he touched… giving your tits a gentle squeeze at first, your resulting moan encouraging him to squeeze harder, pressing your cleavage together as a low groan escaped his throat. You bit your lip, looking back at him and watching how his eyes devoured you. “Do you like them…?”

Josh’s gaze immediately flashed to meet yours, and the eye contact felt like a shock going straight down your spine. A sound resembling a growl escaped from the back of his throat, and your mouth fell open involuntarily as he said, “God, I fucking love them…” continuing to grope and squeeze, his cheeks red, his chest heaving. Your hand continued to slide up his chest, your fingertips finally reaching his necklace, and you just couldn’t resist— tugging it towards you, pulling Josh towards you and kissing him as hard as you’d ever dreamed of doing, drunker now on the feeling of him kissing you back than on anything you’d had at the bar. His hands slid around to the small of your back to pull you into him, your tits pressing up against his bare chest for the first time. The contact made you practically light-headed, moaning into his mouth as the kiss grew sloppier, before Josh’s lips began to trail down to your jaw, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses in his wake. Your hands slid up to grab at his hair again as he continued his journey downwards, beginning to kiss and lick at your neck— and you were left gasping and writhing underneath him.

“Oh my God, Josh…” you panted, feeling the way his tongue was now beginning to flick and tease at your pulse point, your fingers tightening in his curls. “Fuck…” Your words elicited a moan from Josh against your neck, and you found yourself bucking your hips against him harder at the sound. He continued kissing lower, down your neck to your collarbones, seeming determined to explore every inch of your skin with his mouth, and his obvious desire was making the heat between your thighs burn ever greater. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him as he reached the top of your breasts, letting his mouth and tongue kiss and caress sloppily downwards, looking up at you through his lashes all the while.

He pulled back only for a moment, licking his lips as he gazed up at you, breathing out a low, heavy, “You have no fucking idea how many times I’ve imagined this…” his words sending shock waves straight to your core that were only amplified when, without warning, Josh leaned in to press a hot, open-mouthed kiss right to your nipple, sucking it right into his mouth. The pleasure was so sudden and so overwhelming that your own mouth fell open wide as you arched into him, crying out and gripping him even tighter. Josh let his tongue trace in circles around the hardened bud, before flickering it over you at a speed that had you gasping and whimpering, making your mind reel with possibilities of what else his tongue could be capable of. Your moans were growing louder and more desperate as he moved to pay the same attention to your other nipple, one of his hands sliding up your body so his fingertips could continue playing with the first.

It was already so much. He was so skilled with both his mouth and his fingers, and your anticipation of what was to come was matched by an insatiable hunger burning deep within your core. “Oh, fuck… Josh… that feels so good,” you moaned breathlessly, your voice already shaky, overwhelmed by the way he was working both nipples at once while continuing to grow harder underneath you. The look in his eyes was dark, mischievous. He was clearly being encouraged by your praise, and he was chuckling against you, both the sound and the vibrations enough to make your body shiver against him. He continued worshiping your tits like this for minute after minute, his sighs and moans against you making your head spin and your arousal pool between your thighs. After a while, the feeling of his hard cock rubbing up against you through your pajama pants was becoming impossible to ignore, and the layers of clothing between your bodies felt far too much. Your next words escaped you in more of a whimper than you had intended, thanks to Josh’s relentless tongue against your left nipple and his fingertips rolling and tweaking the right. “Please, Josh… baby… I’m so wet, I need more…”

The words made Josh’s eyes flutter shut for a second, groaning with need as he pulled back from your nipple with an obscene pop. “Fuck, mama… I’ll give you more… lover… let’s get these off you, yeah?” he asked, his hands reaching the hem of your pajama pants as you nodded voraciously, the new pet name he’d just used sending chills up and down your spine.

Swiftly and almost effortlessly, Josh was pulling you off of his lap to press you up against the back of the couch, kissing you deeply all over again as he repositioned you, before pulling back to look you in the eyes as he moved to untie the pajama pants you had borrowed from him. You lifted your hips to aid him as he hooked his fingers underneath the waistband of both the pants and your panties, his gaze meeting yours as if to check in for one final time that this was what you wanted, and you were nodding before either of you even had the chance to speak. “Please…” you breathed out, and that was all the confirmation he needed, tugging them all the way down your legs and lifting your ankles to pull them off of you. Your head was reeling as you watched him kneel before you through heavy-lidded, lust-clouded eyes. Slowly, as if uncovering something sacred, Josh’s hands landed on your knees, gently pulling them apart, revealing you to him— all of you, for the first time.

His lips parted in astonishment. “Oh my fucking God, mama…” He was devouring your pussy with his eyes, staring at you as though witnessing the divine. “You’re so fucking wet… fuck, you’re a goddess… Aphrodite incarnate.”

You were left breathless at his words, and if that wasn’t enough, in a frenzy, Josh’s mouth attached itself to your inner thigh, kissing eagerly, lapping against your sensitive skin, and beginning to climb higher by the moment. Utterly overwhelmed by the feeling, by his desire, you found yourself growing lightheaded, panting out, “You wanna taste it, Josh?”

Between hungry kisses to the inside of your thighs, he looked up at you with a wild ferocity in his eyes you’d never seen before, and his voice was husky as he breathed out a low, hot, “Not want. Need.”

He had left you speechless, the only sound escaping your lips a desperate whimper of arousal that made Josh groan against your skin as he continued his ascent. Moving higher with every kiss, every lick, every graze of his teeth— you were trembling as Josh grew closer and closer to your burning heat. It had been a long time since any man had made you ache like this, and you couldn’t believe just how badly you needed him, how little you cared about anything beyond the promise of his tongue.

Josh was nearing the apex of your thighs now, only inches away from where you needed him most. The feeling of his lips and his facial hair, watching the way his nose pressed into the soft skin of your upper thigh… keeping your eyes on him felt addictive. He was a work of art, devoting his mouth and body to your pleasure, and you couldn’t look away. That was, until Josh fulfilled his promise— hands gripping your thighs and eyes right on yours as he pushed his head forward, immediately pressing a slow, wet kiss directly to your pussy.

The cry that left your lips was louder and more desperate than any of the moans Josh had already drawn out of you, and your thighs immediately tightened around his head, your hands flying back into his hair as you threw your head back. Josh had flattened his tongue, licking a stripe along the entire length of your slit, before letting his tongue explore your folds, his lips kissing and sucking all the while. You were practically incoherent already, astonished at how he could possibly be so good at this. Expletives were falling from your lips completely outside of your control, your desperate moans of “Oh, God… fuck…!” only serving to encourage Josh further, pressing his face in even deeper and sucking at your clit, his mustache tickling at your most sensitive spots while his hands kept a white-knuckled grip on your thighs.

You were practically seeing stars, tugging at Josh’s hair in unbridled ecstasy as he started flicking his tongue against your clit, at a speed you couldn’t even begin to comprehend. The feeling made you let out a sound so needy and pornographic, you hardly recognized yourself. Pleas began to tumble from your lungs as your thighs started to shake, the pleasure building quicker than you ever could have imagined. “Please, please… oh, God, Josh, don’t stop…”

His fingers dug into your thighs as if to assure you that he was not going to stop, his tongue continuing to flick and lash at your clit from every angle, lapping at your wetness, humming and groaning into your heat. Devouring you as if it was his last meal, Josh looked up at you with his brown eyes wide, sparkling, practically innocent; and the sight had you choking on your own breath, his name escaping your lips in a desperate whine— and the sound of that, perhaps combined with the taste of you, left Josh’s eyes rolling up into his head, eyelashes fluttering wildly, as he worked your cunt with his tongue. The sight, combined with his relentless worship of your pussy, the lapping of his tongue against your clit, sent you right over the edge— all at once, you were moaning louder than ever as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you. Your thighs clenched and tightened around Josh’s head as he groaned into your pussy, licking up your release as you gushed onto his tongue. The orgasm was all-consuming, wracking every inch of your body with shudders, and Josh made sure to work you through every second of it, keeping his pace until you began to come down. Only then did he slow his tongue, beginning to press slow, passionate, gentle kisses to your pussy as the last few spasms of pleasure coursed through you. He only pulled back when your grip in his hair loosened, turning to gentle strokes of your fingertips through his curls.

With one final, soft kiss to your heat, Josh came up from between your legs, licking his lips and looking at you almost bashfully, his face flushed and slick with your release. The sweetness in his gaze combined with the depravity of the moment sent yet another shiver down your spine. Chest heaving and eyes glazed over, you let out an incredulous giggle, savoring the softness of his hair under your fingertips, and the way he was looking at you. “Jesus, Josh… you didn’t tell me you were so good at that,” you teased, still somewhat in shock at the fact that all of this was really happening.

“You never asked,” he teased back, sticking his tongue between his teeth, and the sight had butterflies erupting in your stomach all over again. You were struck by an overwhelming need to kiss him, and you again let your hands find his necklace, beginning to tug him back up towards you, and you watched Josh’s eyes widen and lips part as he raised himself to close the distance between the two of you once more. This time, when your lips met and Josh licked into your mouth, you could taste yourself on Josh’s lips and tongue, and that little fact combined with his soft moan into the kiss left your body growing hot all over again.

You kissed sloppily for another minute or two, letting your hands begin to slide up and down Josh’s chest, and the sounds your touches were eliciting from the man positioned between your legs were making your mind grow foggy. In the midst of the kiss, Josh’s hips pressed up against your core, his clothed erection rubbing up against your bare cunt, and the feeling made the both of you gasp. Josh pulled back a little to capture his lower lip between his teeth, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment. When he opened them again, you already knew exactly what you wanted. “Josh…?” you asked softly, seductively, and his gaze on you alone had you practically seeing stars. “You made me feel so good… please… let me return the favor…”

As the words left your lips, you were sliding out of your position on the couch, keeping your gaze directly on Josh. “Stand up for me? Please?” you asked, your eyes wide, your teeth grazing your own lower lip. He was mesmerized, looking at you with so much visible desire that you could hardly think straight, but stood up for you, his body practically glowing in the soft, golden light. Through your haze, you were able to sink down onto the floor, finally ending up exactly where you wanted to be. Kneeling in front of him. At eye level with the bulge straining through Josh’s pajama pants. Looking up at him with those same doe eyes, you slid a hand up the inside of his thigh, and Josh let out a soft, melodic groan, his own hand falling to stroke your cheek and run his fingers through your hair. His tender touches only served to encourage you more as your hand stroked further and further upwards, before finally reaching its destination— wrapping around the visible bulge in his pajama pants and giving it a squeeze, arousal flooding your veins at both the feeling of his hard cock in your hand and the moan that escaped Josh at your touch. It had been so long since you’d done this, since you’d been with anyone who had a cock, but… Josh knew that. He’d known that for almost as long as you’d known him at all. And somehow, the fact that it was him you were here with, exploring, rediscovering— truly made any nerves or hesitation you might’ve had disappear without a thought. “Fuck, you’re hard, baby…” you breathed out, looking up at Josh through your lashes, and the use of the affectionate pet name made his grip tighten in your hair.

“It’s all for you,” Josh replied, his voice husky, his breaths coming hard and fast. The sight of his toned chest rising and falling so rapidly in combination with his words was making your head spin as your hands slid higher, hooking around his waistband. He groaned a little, his hips bucking involuntarily at the loss of contact, but his next words were low, seductive. “You wanna see what you do to me, mama?”

A soft moan slipped from you at his question, and you were nodding before you found the words. “Yeah, Josh… I wanna see it…” His teeth sunk into his bottom lip once more as he watched you through lust-blown, darkened eyes, cocking his head, which made his curls fall across his forehead in a way that made you squeeze your thighs together involuntarily. Finally, you couldn’t resist any longer, tugging down Josh’s pajama pants while he kept his gaze on you, hungry and intense. And when you laid eyes on his cock for the first time, the wave of desire that crashed over you was enough to leave you utterly and completely dazed.

“Prettiest cock I’ve ever seen,” you whispered, almost reverent, and Josh let out a giggle so breathless and aroused that you felt yourself grow practically lightheaded, his cheeks somehow flushing even redder at the compliment. The statement was the inarguable truth; you had slept with comparatively few men as opposed to women, and not one of them had a cock that left your mouth watering the way Josh’s already had— upon sight alone. He was deliciously thick, the head of his cock an identical rosy pink to his plush lips and slick with precum, making his own desire more than evident. You were left awestruck, staring at all of him for a moment, wondering how it was possible that tonight’s events had truly led to the situation you were currently in.

He was gazing at you through heavy-lidded eyes as you lifted your hand, reaching out and letting your fingertip trace all the way up the one pretty vein that ran up the underside of Josh’s cock. At your feather-light touch alone, Josh shuddered, his fingers curling in your hair and a sigh escaping his lips. “God, lover…” the words left him in a husky whisper, so low and breathy, and the sound had you squeezing your thighs together all over again. Blinking up at him innocently, you spit into your hand, shivering when Josh let out a little growl at the sight. Your heart racing, you wrapped all your fingers around the base of Josh’s thick cock, savoring the feeling of his warm skin, and the moan that slipped from him was so pretty you couldn’t wait any longer, starting to pump your hand slowly up and down his length. You couldn’t take your eyes off him, watching the way his expression changed, how his plush lips fell open, his brows knitting together a little, as he moaned out, “Oh, fuck…” Stroking him up and down, you began to repeatedly swipe your thumb over the head of his cock, and the action was making Josh grow breathless underneath you. You heard him sigh your name, his chest heaving, his hips beginning to buck against the motions of your hand.

Feeling drunk on desire and the way Josh was somehow continuing to harden in your grasp, you were unable to make yourself wait any longer. “I love this cock, Josh…” you managed to breathe out, another wave of desire washing over you as he tugged harder at your roots, biting his lip. “…and fuck, I need a taste….” The arousal was written all over Josh’s face, his cheeks flushed red and his mouth still hanging open.

His voice was breathier, a little shakier, when he opened his mouth to reply. “Go ahead, lover… it’s all yours…” The sound of that particular nickname leaving his lips while urging you to go on, his tone almost needy, made your eyes nearly roll back into your head with desire. Keeping your gaze on Josh while you continued to stroke his cock, you leaned forward, your head spinning and breaths coming fast and heavy. And when your lips touched his sensitive skin, pressing a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the head of his cock, the sound that escaped Josh was enough to send a lightning bolt of arousal straight through your entire body. His eyes were wide, lust-blown, his pretty lips hanging open as his chest heaved, tangling his fingers in your hair as your kisses turned into kitten licks to his head, exploring his soft skin, lapping at his arousal.

Josh was falling apart so quickly, and you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. Reeling from the taste of him, you started taking him deeper into your mouth, flames of desire licking up into your lower stomach with every moan from Josh, every buck of his hips. Expletives fell from his lips like a prayer as you continued, feeling every inch of him as you took him deeper into your mouth, further down your throat. Practically gagging on the sheer size of him, you finally reached the base of his cock, the tip of your nose pressing up against his pelvis as you blinked up at him with wide, almost innocent eyes. A strangled noise somewhere between a moan and a growl escaped him, his fingers holding a white-knuckled grip in your hair, while his whole face, neck, and even the top of his chest were flushing pink with arousal. “God… fuck… look at you… so fucking beautiful,” he was panting out, his words coming out in a desperate, rambling groan. You had never seen Josh so incoherent, and the sight was beyond dizzying. His praise was electrifying, and finally, you hollowed your cheeks around him, beginning to bob your head up and down his length. Josh let out a loud, uninhibited moan, throwing his head back and letting out another strangled “Fuck… oh, Jesus Christ…”

His moans, his body, his cock; it was all so unbearably addictive. The way his chest was rising and falling with such rapid, intense gasps. The way he was bucking his hips back against your eager mouth. The way his fat cock was somehow still getting harder, thicker inside your mouth. Swelling. Throbbing. The drool was practically dripping down your chin as you sucked him off, bobbing up and down, using your tongue to explore as you watched his contorted, blissed-out expression shift with spine-tingling curiosity. Josh’s hands were practically trembling in your hair as he continued to moan, praise, and curse— the words seeming to fall from his lips entirely involuntarily, as though erupting from his soul itself while you let his pleasure build.

You had almost entirely lost yourself in the taste of his cock, the way it was stretching your jaw, how it felt filling up your mouth and throat, that you were caught by surprise when Josh started pulling back with a shudder, his hard cock slipping from your lips with an obscene pop. Any confusion that you felt, however, was immediately dissipated when Josh breathed out, voice husky, “God, mama… I’m gonna fuckin’ cum if you don’t stop… and, fuck…” he was helping you stand to meet him at eye level again, his eyes dark and desperate as he stroked a hand through your hair, down past your cheek, dragging his fingertips down your neck. “I need to fuck you, lover…”

Hearing him say those words made your mouth fall open a little, beginning to nod before you could even speak. “Oh, God… please, Josh… fuck me. I need it. Please, just fuck me…” Upon hearing that, Josh was growling again, the sound still making your entire body tremble, as he began walking you backwards towards his sofa, his hands on your body and his eyes on yours, intense and hungry. Before long, you were trying to keep your breathing steady as Josh laid you down on the couch, his eyes all over you, his necklace dangling over you enticingly. Your heart pounding, you sat up against the arm of the sofa, biting your lip at Josh as you slowly, teasingly opened your legs wide for him. His gaze was ravenous as you blinked up at him, breathing out a soft, tantalizing, “Come and get it…”

That was all Josh needed. Immediately, he was climbing on top of you, positioning his flushed, firm body between your legs and letting one hand rest on either side of you on the arm of the couch. His face hovered above yours, his cheeks red and his eyes dark with arousal, as one hand landed on your shoulder, pinning you to the arm of the couch underneath him—- the action immediately sucking all of the air from your lungs. His free hand now began to slide down your body as he cocked his head, studying your expression with hungry brown eyes as he groped at your tits, then let his hand slide down your stomach, before letting his fingers part your folds. You moaned, bucking your hips into his touch, and a groan escaped Josh at that as he stared at you incredulously. “Fuck, mama… you’re so fucking wet…”

“God, Josh, it’s what you fucking do to me,” you panted, little whimpers and sighs escaping your lips as he gathered your wetness on his fingertips, before trailing up to play with your clit. After a moment of this, he trailed his fingers down, letting his index finger tease and press at your entrance, and you were moaning, nodding your head, the eye contact that Josh was maintaining heightening every feeling, every sensation. Upon your nod, he was pushing one long finger up into your cunt, and you were crying out all over again, your walls immediately clenching around him— and that drove both of you into near madness, as you immediately leaned up to kiss Josh as hard as you possibly could, moaning into his mouth, bucking your hips against his hand as he began to fuck you with his finger, pumping it in and out, getting your cunt ready for his cock.

You were grabbing at his body, at his necklace, his curls, pulling back to stammer pleas desperately against his lips. “More… God, Josh, I need more…” the words left your mouth in a rambling, desperate beg, and the low groan of desire that escaped him in response made your eyes roll back a little even before he slid a second finger into your pussy, fucking them in and out of your wetness as you writhed beneath him.

“What do you need?” His voice was husky, teasing, his eyes heavy-lidded and never leaving yours, his nose hovering millimeters above your own. Your heart felt like it could give out within your chest at any moment as Josh’s fingers worked you, stretched you. “I wanna hear you say it, lover…”

“Fuck, Josh… oh, God, I need your cock. Please…” you begged, reaching out and tugging at his curls, savoring the way he leaned into your touch. “…I’ve imagined it so many times, baby… please just fuck me…”

Those words, the admission that you’d pictured this before on numerous occasions, must’ve been exactly what Josh was looking for, as a moan even lower, darker, huskier left his lips. “Fuck, mama… sound so fucking pretty when you beg….” You shuddered at this, looking up at him with pleading eyes, as Josh nodded slowly, and pulled his fingers from your dripping pussy, the loss of contact making you shiver. You watched, dazed, desperate, as he wrapped those same fingers around his hard, thick cock; giving it a few solid pumps before lining it up at your entrance. The look in his eyes was unlike anything you’d ever seen before— powerful, commanding, full of need, while still unbearably affectionate. Practically loving. You could hardly think, drunk on your desire, gaze fixed on the beautiful man hovering above you. Teasingly, teeth sinking into his lower lip, Josh began to rub the head of his cock up and down your soaked slit, and the friction left you whining and bucking your hips desperately against him, his own mouth falling open at the contact. “Gonna fuck you so good, lover… so hard, so deep… gonna have you fucking screaming for me, mama…”

He didn’t even give you the time you needed to process his filthy words— because it was right as Josh spoke that he was pushing his hips forward, his hard, fat cock parting your folds, sliding into your tight, soaked cunt, inch after inch filling you up and stretching you out. Your eyes flew open wide, your mouth falling completely open alongside them as a moan louder than any you’d let out all night escaped your lungs. You weren’t alone, Josh’s own mouth hanging open with pleasure as his eyes rolled back a little, lashes fluttering wildly as he pushed in, up to the hilt. Your chest was heaving, hands desperately reaching to grab at Josh’s body, his strong arms, as little gasps and whimpers left your lips. “Oh, Josh… fuck… you’re so thick…”

He was groaning a little, fighting to keep his eyes open against the overwhelming pleasure of your cunt wrapped around his cock. “So fucking tight…” he managed, his voice restrained, rough, almost shaky. “…gonna move, lover…. you ready? You wanna get fucked?” It was all so overwhelming already, so dizzying, and you were nodding with unbridled desperation, clinging to his biceps as you fought to catch your breath. Yet, as Josh fulfilled his promise, it was clear you wouldn’t be finding your breath anytime soon.

Slowly, he was pulling back nearly all the way… before immediately thrusting his hips forward with such intensity, such purpose, that you cried out instantly, your hand flying to grip Josh’s necklace, which had been dangling just above your breasts ever since he climbed on top of you. He started slow, but the measured pace didn’t last long as he began to pick up speed, starting to thrust harder, faster, deeper. You were so quickly being rendered incoherent as his thick cock pushed in and out, hammering into your cunt and stretching you deliciously with every hard thrust. Moans of his name began to fall from your lips as he fucked you, and you found yourself wrapping your legs around his torso, hanging your head back with overwhelming pleasure as Josh fucked up into you again and again.

“You feel that, lover….? Fuck… you’re squeezing me… so fucking tight…” Josh was groaning, his gaze heavy, his eyelids fluttering, his eyes threatening to roll back again and again. He was twitching inside of you, throbbing, even, and the feeling was beyond intoxicating as you felt your thighs beginning to tremble around him.

“Oh, God… don’t stop, Josh, don’t stop… feels so good…” you were moaning, rolling your hips in response to his relentless thrusts, feeling your pleasure beginning to build rapidly for the second time that night. He growled, beginning to fuck you even harder, adjusting so he was slamming his hips into you from a new angle— and when the head of his cock began to shove up against your g-spot with every thrust, the cry that left your throat was so needy, so desperate, so whiny that it elicited a moan of matching intensity from Josh.

“I can feel you… fuckin’ clenching,” he was groaning, not once slowing the pace of his thrusts, his hand still pinning you to the arm of the couch below him as he fucked you. “You gonna cum again for me, sugar? Yeah? Gonna cum on my cock this time?”

You were whimpering, nodding, tears beginning to well in your eyes as Josh pounded into you, your tits bouncing with every hard thrust of his cock into your pussy. He never once hesitated, only continuing to hammer into you, his gaze intensifying, his sounds growing hungrier, more uninhibited. “Not gonna stop, sugar… gonna fuck you ‘til you’re cumming all over this hard cock… make this tight, pretty pussy cum for me…..”

His words were growing filthier by the moment, and it was only making your head spin even faster, your thighs tremble even harder, your grip on his necklace tighten as the heat began to build deep within your core. Tears began to spill from your eyes; the pleasure starting to become almost overwhelming, moments away from the edge— and Josh must’ve been able to tell, because all of a sudden, his fingers were right back on your clit, circling it mercilessly as his cock slammed into you again and again… and that was all it took.

With a desperate, pornographic cry of his name, you were clenching down onto Josh’s cock as your orgasm crashed over you. Wave after wave of pleasure wracked your entire body as you clung desperately to Josh, moaning again and again and trembling, shaking almost violently against him, seeing stars and practically sobbing as you melted into euphoria.

Josh was groaning, fucking you as hard as he could through your orgasm, his eyes beginning to roll back— and he managed to pull himself from your cunt just in time, your name leaving his lips in a desperate moan alongside a string of obscenities as he exploded all over your stomach, stroking his cock and bucking his hips into his hand. His expression was damn near angelic, his brows knitted together, his mouth wide open with ecstasy, before he caught his lower lip between his teeth, thrusting up into his hand as he finished riding out his high.

Slowly, slowly, gasping for air, you found yourself beginning to return to Earth, your grip loosening on Josh’s arms but refusing to let go, still savoring the feeling of his soft, warm skin; his muscles flexing underneath your fingertips. The chorus of moans between the two of you had evolved into breathless sighs as Josh collapsed onto you; and when you finally managed to open your eyes, you found yourself giggling without even meaning to— your head still spinning, your heart still racing.

Josh was breathing hard, a bashful grin on his face as his own eyes fluttered open, gazing down at you with what could only be described as adoration. Reaching up to run a hand through his tousled curls, you giggled again, your heart swelling in your chest at the way he was looking at you, before he began to join you in your shy laughter. “Wow…” you managed, biting your lip a little, as he let out a giggle of his own, nodding in agreement. You felt heat rising in your own cheeks as you admitted shyly, “Josh, I… you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that with you.”

He smiled at you, the affection in his gaze making you practically breathless as he said, “Truthfully? I think I do… because I’m sure I’ve wanted it just as long,” letting his arms slip around you, and the feeling was a new kind of dizzying. You giggled again, before leaning up to press another kiss to his lips— this one soft, slow, lingering. The frenzied hurry that had motivated the majority of your actions had dissipated as you realized, with a rush of excitement, that you had all the time in the world.

When the kiss broke, you were laughing again, running your hands across his arms, up to his cheeks, savoring the way his eyes fluttered shut at your touches. “All the time we’ve wasted…” you sighed with a grin, thinking about the months you’d spent pining after him, certain that your thoughts and feelings weren’t reciprocated. He was smiling down at you, holding you close to his body.

“We’re here now,” Josh said with a grin, pressing another kiss to your cheek. “And I intend to make the most out of every moment…” as you felt yourself blushing all over again, your heart racing. This really was just the beginning.

It was a long time before the two of you managed to work up the motivation to move from your positions tangled together on the couch, but Josh’s promise of a warm shower and the invitation to share his bed was more than enough to convince you. As he helped you to your feet, his arm wrapping around your waist while your thighs trembled, you felt your heart nearly overflowing with affection. When you turned to look at him, however, a thought struck you that left you giggling all over again, leaving Josh looking at you with a curious grin, arching an eyebrow inquisitively. “What’s bringing on that cute giggle now…?”

You grinned at him, biting your lip and leaning in to press another kiss to his cheek. “Tonight may have been our best adventure yet.”

He laughed again, his happiness utterly infectious, as he leaned in, his lips only millimeters from yours. “And we’ve got plenty more to come, lover.” Closing the distance between the two of you, this kiss was gentle, passionate. A promise that he was yours. That you were his.

As you two headed towards his room, his arm around your waist, there was one thing that was certain. No matter what else was to come, you knew that Josh was right. You two had so many adventures in store.

And you couldn’t wait to rediscover it all.

TAGLIST: @sinsofstardust @jakesguitarsolo @losfacedevil @kenobicoffee @sparrowofthedawnsworld @gold-mines-melting @texas-bbq-pringles @mountain-in-springtime @alwaysonthemend @tripthelightfatality @runwayblues @shutupdevvie @heavens-hearken @godly-sinsx @sacredjake @ignite-my-fire @kiska-enthusiast @songbirds-sweet @viagvf @wetkleenex-gvf @jaketsparrow @rhythm-of-space @the-starcatcher @hsfallingsky @fuckyoutommie @earthlysorrows @ascendingtostardust @joshsindigostreak

If you want to be added to my taglist, you can do that right here! Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it 🥰 All my love, Li xoxo

#josh kiszka fic #josh kiszka smut #josh kiszka x reader #greta van fleet smut #greta van smut #josh kiszka #greta van fleet #li speaks #writing tag

335 notes · View notes

deadpool15 · 6 months

Text

Girl please

I'm walking around trying to gather all my shit. I can't ever find shit in this bitch. "Baby, if you can't come that absolutely fine. I just thought since you were in Korea, well, you know.." I turn around and stare at the phone. "Kirsten Dogen, you sit there and pass off a fake ass undertone with me again, and you are not getting those snacks you like when I pull up. Don't throw shade at me, young lady." I hear a bunch of laughs coming from the phone which I can't really identify, I guess those are the other girls she is doing the photoshoot with. Serves her right. I don't take the back talk. "Baby, really legal government names, that's how we gonna play it." She says with a pout on that God forsaken beautiful fucking face. But I realize to back down. "And did, what's your point."

"Also, your fav boots are in our closet, in my side, sweetie," When I heard those words, I turned around, and I almost got whiplash. "Why would MY boots be on your side, huh?" She stares at me sheepishly before trying to make it seem like someone is calling her, and quickly saying she had to go. I sit there in disbelief, "I know she did not just hang up on me. And proceeded to not answer my question at that. Girl literally just cut me off like I wasn't talking." After a while of absolute bullshit I finally decided to finish getting ready. It was pretty hot in Korea, so I went for some shorts and a crop. With my favorite boots, of course. I then decided to call up Yeonjun. Me and that man had been friends ever since his family decided to randomly pull up to California for a couple of years. I showed him around, and his mom used to joke about us being together. Then he came back to Korea and our parents thought it would be a good idea to send each other letters.

Our friendship has lasted for what felt like a lifetime, and I love that dude. Through Kirsten couldn't stand him. I felt like she had just never taken the time to give him a chance. Sure, Yeonjun was flirty sometimes, but that's just him as a person, and he knew when to back off. I would never hurt my wife, and sometimes, I felt like she didn't trust me. I mean, Yeonjun was literally my right hand at our wedding. Out there standing next to me prepared me for my life, cheering the loudest when we officially got married. It even got to the point where she shit talked him once and got angry at me. Like true enough, I love my wife, and I love my bestie, so I wanted them to get along. Hopefully, today works out. I had been signed to Hybe labels as an official choreographer, mainly working with newjeans because those are my girls, but I had worked with other groups as well. The public was quite familiar with me and our friendship, so it was never any dating rumors. Sure, people wanted us together, but that's their issue. I'm happily married.

Yeonjun had pulled up in his van. Opened the door before I hit him in the head. "Why are you always so aggressive all the time? There was literally no need for that hit, Cece." I just push him in the van before grabbing his face. Every time I go to America, I leave for a while. I had to take some other jobs that were literally amazing. Though when I come back, I always make it a habit of checking Yeonjun. Companies are known to starve their idols with fucked up so called diets and I refused to allow it to happen to my bestie. I mean, I almost beat a staff ass for suggesting my litter hyein needed to lose a couple of pounds. "You look good, just doing my family checks." He smiled at me, "I'm glad you care about my health so much, sis." We sat there in the car just catching up on all the shig we have missed in life. Before I told him we would be going to see Kirsten, he just smiled and said, "That's cool." Weridly enough he never had a issue with her, and never tried to say anything back when she insulted him stating she is your wife and you my little sister, I understand why she is jealous but I wouldn't disrespect you other half. My brother is just too amazing. Sometimes, I feel like he read that shit from a magazine.

We pulled up the building, seeing workers running around and losing their minds, trying to make sure everything was perfect. As I walked inside, I heard a scream typical, it what I get for being koreas number it boy with me. Yeonjun just smiles and embraces all the attention. He has also been a suckered for the spotlight. While he is doing that, I tell him I'll go in the back to find Kirsten. I walk away, thankfully, running into Funky Y and greeting her, of course. She is all smiles and asking me all these questions before I cut the conversation short and ask about Kristen. "She is in the back with makeup." I nod and thank her before making my way back there. Seeing her getting all dolled up dripped down in Calvin Klein for the shoot, "Well, look at you." Hearing my voice, she immediately turns around before jumping up to hug me. "Omg, you're finally here. I thought you were made at me about the boot thing. I just wore them at the beginning of the show, to like reveal us. So it technically wasn't that long." I brush her hair out of her face, taking a goof look at her. "I don't care that you wore them, I care that you hung up on me while we were still talking. Don't think I forgot about that. And there shall be punishments in order, baby." I smirk once I see her scared face before kissing her head, trying not to mess up her makeup.

"Guys, it took me forever to find you. It's like a lot of rooms in here. Hi, Kirsten. You look great. What's the shoot for?" Yeonjun asks while running in her out of breath, I turn and laugh at him before turning back to her and see her face. "It's Calvin Klein, pretty obvious to anyone with a brain." She states with a look of pure annoyance while staring at him. Then whispered in my ear why you had to bring him. I grip her arm as a warning, while yeonjun asks us if we want anything to drink, I tell him I'll have an apple juice before Kirsten says nothing from you. "OK, fucking stop it. I try my very best not to take sides because I care about both of you and want you to equally get along. But this shit ends now," I see her face try to turn into a pout before I squeeze her side, letting her know I'm not dealing with the fake shit. "No more animosity or any of that shit, got it." They both look at each other before Yeonjun randomly hugs us both. "I don't have a problem with you, Kirsten. If anything, I'm glad that my litter sister was able to find you, though I'm sorry for whatever I did to make you feel angry. I look over to her, stating it's her turn, and she sighs, "You didn't really do anything, it's just you two are so close, and I know you don't like her like that. But I told myself that if I hated you, it would be easier. Which is a really hard thing to do since you are so happy and bright. I was insecure, and I took it out of you, but then I realized you two are just like siblings, and I felt stupid and thought it was all in my head."

Yeonjun hugs us closer before saying he will give us a minute while patting Kirsten on the back. "Baby, your thoughts are never stupid, and if you feel so strongly, you come and talk to me. We are a team, and till death, do us part remember." She smiles while hugging me tighter and kissing all over my face. "It's ok, I'll try my best to make it up, Yeonjun, for all the shit I put him through. I know he is a nice guy." I just rock her from side to side while listening. "That's amazing, baby, and don't think I forgot about your punishment from earlier. You are in for it when we get home, baby." I tell her while gripping her ass.

Request by @kirsmyonlyone

#street woman fighter 2 #swf2 #street woman fighter x reader #Kristen Dogen #kristen dogen x reader

91 notes · View notes

dancingtotuyo · 4 months

Text

Kryptonite | Dave York x Reader | One Shot

Rating: EXPLICIT/Mature

Summary: Running into Dave York changes your life and unleashes a new part of yourself.

Inspired by Kryptonite by 3 Doors Down

Tags: dark!Dave York, infidelity, Germany, song fic

Warnings: infidelity, violence and descriptions of violence, death (not Dave or reader), descriptions of blood, murder, self defense, explicit smut (p in v), oral sex (both m & f receiving), heavy groping, choking, smacking/hitting in a sexual manner, knife play, power dynamics, use of “daddy” in a sexual manner (minimal), consensual sex, possible dub con, cream pie

Notes: I wrote this one for the LOML @janaispunk for Christmas 🫶, though you won’t find it filled with Christmas festivities! Huge shout out to @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin for listening to my ideas, reading through it, and being an overall huge encourager!

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PAY EXTRA ATTENTION TO WARNINGS ON THIS ONE

Words: 7160

THIS STORY CONTAINS EXPLICIT CONTENT AND DARK THEMES. IT IS NOT INTENDED FOR THOSE UNDER 18 YEARS OF AGE. MINORS PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT

“I took a walk around the world to ease my troubled mind.”

Dave York isn’t a bad guy. If one were to give him a chance, he would explain how he’s actually one of the good guys. He’s simply standing up for those who have been wronged by the fucked up system that abandoned the ones who do the dirty work. It’s all conjecture. How he rationalizes it all away. How he lets himself sleep at night, and go home to his wife and beautiful daughters. He does this for them. He isn’t a bad guy.

Yet, even he starts to see through his bullshit. He won’t admit it, but it’s getting harder to sleep at night. Tonight is one of those nights. That’s how he finds himself wandering the streets of a German city he can’t remember the name of.

The air is just verging on chilly, the breeze whipping at his typically well-kempt hair. He usually keeps to the shadows when he’s managing his side business, worried about being picked up on a camera, but it’s late now. He keeps out of the street lights, the stars shielded by the light pollution.

He inhales deeply. This time tomorrow he’ll be on a flight back to the States and slide into bed next to his wife. He’ll wake up, make lunch for the girls, and take them to school. The perfect all-American family. Dave loves them. His girls are his world. He is doing this for them. Every smile and giggle makes this all worth it. Alice and Molly deserve the world. Sometimes, he wonders if his wife knows. Carol hasn’t said anything, but sometimes he catches her just staring at him. Logic says she just loves him. How many times early on in their life together had he done the same thing? How long has it been since he looked at her with that awe?

If he’s honest, Dave doesn’t give his marriage much thought anymore. It’s something that’s just there like two planets orbiting each other but never intersecting. It’s something that’s just part of the persona of Dave York. The version of him his friends and family know. He is starting to wonder if that man still exists. He’s found himself feeling freer during his “work trips” than he does at home.

If it weren’t for his girls…

Dave can’t finish the thought as he collides with a woman in a blue dress and billowing feather boas wrapped around her neck. You.

“Oh shit!” Dave’s hands shoot out, steadying your form, one on each shoulder.

You let out a soft snort quickly covering it with a giggle. “Oh my god.” You try to sober but fail before another giggle takes over. You buzz with the carefree energy of someone a couple drinks into the evening but not wasted.

Any words forming in Dave’s head die there. Your eyes sparkle with mischief. Your smile leaves him stunned. He’s seen his fair share of women even as a married man, but never crossed the boundary of infidelity. Dave doesn’t label what is about to happen as infidelity because right now he isn’t Dave York from Arlington, Virginia, father to two and husband. Right now, he’s Dave York private gun for hire, or Patrick Smith born in Pennsylvania if you looked at his passport.

“I’m sorry,” you say. Dave’s hands don’t move from your shoulders. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

Dave flashes a smile, the same one he used to pick up Carol years ago, but she’s the furthest thing from his mind right now. “I should be more aware of my surroundings. Especially with such a beautiful woman about.”

Your cheeks flush with heat. He has a sneaking suspicion that it’s not from the alcohol in your system. Dave has never been above sweet-talking to get his way during his time with the agency. “You’re American.”

“Unfortunately, yes.” Dave winks. You laugh. Dave swears he could listen to that sound every day if given the chance. “But are you with anyone? It’s late. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you out here all alone.”

You tilt your head to the side, life glowing in your eyes. Whether you’re always like this or it’s all alcohol-induced, Dave doesn’t know, but he wants to find out. He needs to know.

“And I’m supposed to trust you, Mr. America.”

He chuckles, looking up at the sky for a moment before bringing his gaze back to you. He can’t stop taking you in. You feel like a breath of fresh air in his stifling life. He smiles, the first time he’s felt fully himself in possibly years. “My name is Dave.”

You glance between his hand and his face, sussing out if he is trustworthy. He seems so, comes across as genuine. He’s a bit older than you, but handsome nonetheless with big brown eyes and the sincerity of a well-raised child.

You inhale deeply, choosing to be a little wreckless for once and jump head first into something. What’s the worst that could happen? You take his hand.

“I watched the world float to the dark side of the moon.”

It’s probably a stupid choice, but Dave gives you his number. His real number. He doesn't have enough time to see you again before he leaves Germany and he isn’t ready to let this go yet. He escorts you safely to your apartment, chatting idly over the 10-minute walk and the 30 minutes you spend on the front stoop. As he goes to leave, you stand on tiptoes, pressing your lips against his. In return, he pushes you against the front door, hands roaming up your sternum. You giggle at him like a smitten schoolgirl and hand him your phone.

Dave has a second number. He could’ve given you that one. He probably should have, but he wants easier access. He risks it. Dave is not a careless man, but he leans into the easiness of it in the moment. He kisses you again before leaving, much more chastely this time. He promises to see you next time he’s in town. He tells you he does business in Germany often. It won’t be long.

His veins buzzed with electricity the whole walk back to his apartment, his body alive in a way that feels almost supernatural. As he crosses the threshold, his phone pings with a text from an unknown number. Dave knows who it is before he looks at the text.

Over the next two weeks, Dave finds himself instantly reaching for his phone with each ping. The time difference is a pain in the ass but sometimes works in Dave’s favor. Like when Carol is sound asleep and you’re wide awake across the sea.

When the call comes through from a contact that they’re ready to move in on a target in Germany, Dave almost jumps up in celebration. He’s never hit the tarmac with his bags packed so fast. He tacks on a couple extra days to visit you.

Those extra days can’t come soon enough. He always prides himself on his ability to compartmentalize. He can tune out the rest of the world, get a job done with the precision of the assassin he is, and return to life as if nothing happened, but this time, he finds himself rushing through the process, eager to get to the finish line, eager to get to you.

However, when the night of the hit comes, he slips right into Dave York The Killer, cold, heartless, robotic. The crew is smaller this trip, the target not as high profile, but still a big payout. He forces himself to stay steady, forces himself not to speed through his progressions. The team doesn’t notice a difference in him. He takes that as a good sign. The target is asleep, alone, thank god.

Dave slides the knife into the victim’s chest. He’s lying if he says he doesn’t find a particular beauty in it. The firm pressure, the slice of the knife, the crimson blood. It’s always a rush, the planning, the practice, the kill, and Dave enjoys it all. This particular hit sends an extra rush of pleasure through his veins.

He takes the train to get to you, fighting the urge to show up on your doorstep in the wee hours of the morning. Dave York is not a patient man, but he somehow manages, pacing his hotel room still as he buzzes with the high of the night’s hit and the excitement of seeing you in the morning. You recommended meeting at a small cafe, but as Dave lays awake with the sun peeking through the curtains, he decides to surprise you at the apartment.

Dave has to force himself not to rush, which seems to be becoming a theme with him. He makes himself a cup of coffee in the hotel room and sits down drinking every drop until he can’t stand to wait any longer, leaving his hotel 30 minutes before he needs to.

Dave could’ve taken time to enjoy the city in daylight. He spends so much of his time in these destinations under the cover of darkness, missing the beauty, but he doesn't. He wants to believe he keeps to his training, keeping an eye out for someone following him and staying out of the view of cameras, but the truth is, he’s completely unaware of it all. His sole purpose is to get to you.

When your apartment building comes into view, he finally slows, aware of how early he is. Hell, he’s supposed to meet you there.

One of your curtains is open, giving him a faraway view into your apartment. Dave has fully accepted that he’s verging into creep territory, but he doesn’t care. It’s been two weeks since he’s laid eyes on you. That’s two weeks too long for him.

He holds his breath, waiting in anticipation for a glimpse of you, patience dwindling within a few minutes of waiting. The anticipation grows into anxiety. Did he come to the wrong building? That’s impossible. Dave never forgets places, even if he did, he would never forget yours. Are you home? Did you forget? He studies the window searching for any evidence of life. Has something happened to you? Oh god, has someone connected the two of you? Figured out his whole facade? He has half a mind to break down the door and go in guns blazing.

His phone pings. It’s the only thing that could break his concentration. Your name pops up, granting him instant relief.

See you in 20?

He smiles, glancing back up toward the window. You are okay. Everything is okay because Dave is a smart man. He knows how to cover his tracks, and you are a sacred treasure he wants to keep all to himself. He will hide you away, protect you from it all.

He catches the subtle flutter of the curtains. The world around him becomes nonexistent as his full attention is pulled toward the window. She moves into view, head whipping around as you search for a specific item. He smiles, all of the anxiety leaving his body.

Instead of responding via text, he hits the call button. The dial tone plays against his ear. She moves out of view, no doubt searching for her cell.

“Hello?”

A smile overtakes his face. Dave can’t remember the last time one did so effortlessly. “Look out your window, Darling.”

His voice sits low in his chest, sending shivers through your body. You pull back the curtain. Dave waves down below. “Are you stalking me now?”

“It’s not stalking if you showed me where you live.”

You bite back your smile, heat gathering in your cheeks. “We were supposed to meet there.”

“I couldn’t wait.”

“Give me two minutes.” You say and the line goes dead.

Dave watches you zip away from the window. The swinging of the curtains is the only indication you were ever there. His chest tightens as he waits. Dave York considers himself a patient man, but he checks his watch for the 5th time in two minutes.

Then your door swings open. You come barreling toward him, a smile plastered to your face. It’s contagious as Dave chuckles, spinning you around like an episode of The Bachelor. His lips are warm against your cheek. “I’ve missed you, darling.”

A shiver runs down your spine as your feet plant on the ground. Dave’s warm brown eyes meet yours. “How can you miss someone you’ve hardly seen?”

“How can someone not miss you?” He laughs, fingers weaving with yours.

“You lie, Dave.”

“I could never lie to you.” He winks.

Dave holds your hand all the way to the cafe. He pays for your meal. He’s engaging, charming, making conversation, desperate to know everything he can about you. You’ve never felt such intention from another person.

After the cafe, you walk through town, hand in hand in broad daylight. The conversation continues to flow as naturally as a river. Dave is captivated. There’s no other word for it. He wants you. He never wants to leave. He thinks he may need you for survival.

You steer your steps toward your apartment. There’s a time and a place for subtlety. Today is not that. Dave picks up on it, catching the dilation of your pupils, feeling the shift between you.

But when you make it to the door, Dave plays the gentleman, asking when he can see you again. You cut him off with a kiss, tongue quickly delving into his mouth. His large hands plant solidly on your hips. You pull him inside. Dave remains respectful, but commanding. You eagerly submit to him. He stays the night.

“After all I knew it had to be something to do with you.”

Dave is losing it. One might argue that’s a bad thing. He’s not so sure as his mind is overrun with flashes of you. He’s quick to check his phone each time it dings. He knows better than to assign you a specific tone, but he wants to, even knows which one he would choose.

His team is building quite the reputation in the gun for hire business. They’re turning down jobs, having to play the cautious game of balancing their time between murder and families. They can’t arouse suspicions. They take turns staying stateside, sending in different crews depending on the job and need. Dave accepts every job within a quick train ride of you. He goes on each one. Sometimes it’s just him. Those are the easiest. He doesn’t even need to tell the team. It makes it easy to slip in, add more red to his ledger, and run to you with his hands dripping, metaphorically of course.

He can never stay more than the weekend, usually no more than a night, but you take every moment. He’s a drug you crave, an addiction you can’t kick. In fact, you don’t want to. It doesn’t matter if you never get more than a stolen night here and there, you’ll take whatever you can get running your hands over his toned muscles, tracing the scars littered over his body, some new and red, some old and faded.

It gives him an air of danger that sends a rush through you each time, like there’s darkness embedded in each scar and it seeps into you. The feeling should unnerve you. It doesn’t.

You want to ask, but you bite your tongue. They seem almost glaring compared to the person you know. Dave is sweet and gentle. The most violence you’ve seen in him is the intense fly hunt you went on last weekend as it buzzed intently around the two of you on the couch. You wonder about the stories behind each nonetheless. He’ll tell you when he’s ready.

He leaves again. He always does with the promise of returning soon. He can’t give you a date. He never can. His phone rings as he walks out the door. You catch the flash of a couple on his screen and a woman’s name drops from his lips. He doesn’t know you see it. Carol.

“But still your secrets I will keep”

You’re drenched. Sweat gathers across your naked skin. Dave thrusts into your dripping pussy, cock soaked in your juices. Your moans marry together, echoing off the walls of your apartment at 2 o'clock on a Thursday afternoon.

You called out of work when he appeared on your doorstep without a warning. He seemed broody, crashing his lips onto yours with more force than you were used to, setting your body ablaze in a new way.

Dave’s hips snap into yours with greater force than usual, his grip a little tighter, but it doesn’t hurt. Not how you expect it to. You like it, this rough side, the way his large hand pins both your arms to the mattress. “You’re taking me so good, Darling. Like a good little girl.”

His words strike a chord within you. Your walls tighten around him. You’re close. You know it. He knows it. His fingers run through your sopping folds, flicking at your clit with skill and precision. Your back arches. You feel like you need to crawl out of your skin. “I’m almost there.”

“I know, baby.” He keeps pace, pushing you closer and closer.

The invisible line snaps as waves of pleasure roll over your body. Dave keeps going, so close to his own release. He’s relentless, prolonging your own orgasm.

“I want to finish inside you. Fill you up like a dirty little whore.” Your cunt clenches around him. You’re not sure why his words affect you the way they do, but you love it. He moans. “Please, Darling.”

“Yes,” You hiss, feeling as if your orgasm has started over. “Please, fill me up.”

“Fuck!” Dave thrusts into you. Once. Twice. And then he buries himself into you, filling you with every drop he has.

Once the high settles to a mild thrum and you’ve cleaned up, you sit on the bed, fresh sheets below you, watching Dave as he gathers his things off your dresser. The sex was different this time, good, mind altering.

Dave has yet to put a shirt on. There’s a scar along his back that disappears beneath the waistband on his jeans. You’ve seen it before. You know all his scars, and you’re gathering his secrets too.

“I hope that wasn’t too much,” Dave says, back still turned to you. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he turns to you, with worried eyes. You saw a piece of him today that no one has seen before. Of that, you have no doubt.

“No, I liked it.” A small smirk quirks your lips. “I wouldn’t be opposed to trying some new things.” Heat pools in your belly again. That same darkness flashes in Dave’s eyes. You want to pull it out and learn it.

He chuckles. “I’ll keep that in mind for later.”

He pulls on his shirt, turning his phone back on. Your heart drops, popping the bubble. “You can’t stay.”

Dave sighs. You catch the guilt hanging off of him. “I’m sorry, Darling.”

“It’s okay…”

Dave bites his lip. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise. I-”

“I know you’re married.” It rolls off your lips without a second thought. You’re not sure where it comes from.

Dave’s face pales, tongue going dry as sandpaper. “Darling-”

“And I don’t care.”

The color fills his face again as he steps over to you. “How do you know?”

You shrug, laying back on the bed. “She called you when you were leaving last time. I did my research, Dave York.”

Dave isn’t sure what to think. In his line of work, it’s scary to know you found him on the internet. It’s a safety issue. If something ever happened to Molly and Alice… but he’s trusted you with much more than anyone else.

“You mean it? You don’t care?” He searches your eyes for any doubt, but finds none.

“You’re the one traveling across the ocean to see me. I also think you’re not just ‘working for the government’.”

There’s a deep growl low in his throat. He oozes evil like your favorite book to movie villain, sending shivers through your body. He cups your neck, using force to pull your lips to his. It’s hot and needy like he didn’t just spend the afternoon buried inside of you. His tongue shoves its way into your mouth, fighting with yours. He grabs your ass kneading it in his palms.

Then, he pulls away, voice gravely in your ear. “One of these days I’m going to tell you every single evil thing I’ve done, and you’re going to like it.”

You gasp, toes curling. He keeps eye contact with you, searching for any sign that you might reject him for it. You don’t ask. You don’t scoff. You believe him. You’ve seen the slivers of evil before, felt them. You’re beginning to wonder if they’ve seeped into you too.

Then he’s gone, disappearing like a ghost.

“I picked you up and put you back on solid ground.”

Adrenaline pumps through your veins. Your heart pounds in your ear. You can’t tell much in the dark, except there’s a man in your apartment, clad in black, and it’s not Dave.

You clutch the kitchen knife to your chest, thankful for Dave’s obsession with keeping things sharp. His boots are steady on your hardwood floors, leaving you to wonder if you’re safe huddled in the corner, or if you should sneak up behind him. Dave taught you to attack only if you are sure you can land a debilitating blow by surprise. You’re not a trained fighter. You’re not an assassin. You’re pretty sure Dave is.

Then, you see your chance. A small opportunity where you know you’ll be hidden in the darkness, not exposed by the open window. You know which floor boards to avoid.

You expect it to go by in a blur, but your mind feels clear. The exposed point on his neck calls to you like a beacon. The artery. He’ll bleed out before he knows what’s happening. Dave’s voice echoes in your head.

Your knife sinks into his neck, slicing skin and tissue like it’s softened butter. You pull the knife out, it drips with crimson blood. He tumbles forward, your lamp shattering into a million tiny pieces as he falls forward.

“You bitch!” He manages to his feet, blood spurting out of his neck. He tries to cover it with his hand, but he’s already losing color in his face. He stumbles toward you. You easily step out of his path, sinking the knife into his chest cavity. It’s more difficult, but you know when you hit his lung.

You watch him fall to the floor, air wheezing from him like a punctured balloon as he coughs and sputters. He’s trying to speak, but can’t. You cock your head to the side, watching it happen, watching the life drain from his eyes, listening to his final breaths. You did that. You took down a man bigger than yourself with two quick blows, without hesitation.

You can feel the thick, red blood dripping off your fingers, soaking into your clothes.Your chest heaves. The knife clatters to the floor. You turn your hands over. You should want this off of you, scratching at the skin to remove it. Instead, you just stare in awe.

Dave appears, heart racing as he takes in the scene. He was gone for only a few hours. A quick job in a neighboring town. “Darling?”

You don’t respond, still inspecting your coated hands. He puts a hand on your shoulder, desperate to know that you’re okay. You jump, eyes blow wide.

“What happened?”

“I don't know. I woke up and he was here… I just- I did what you taught me.”

Your eyes focus on him. He’s in weird clothes- tactical gear. He probably killed someone tonight too.

“Are you okay?”

Your eyes snap back down to your hands. Are you okay? You don’t remember getting hit or knocked over, just the steel blade sinking into flesh over and over and over.

“Darling, look at me!” His hand wraps around your neck and your back hits the wall.

Your eyes snap to him. Your heavy breaths mingle together in the deafening silence that coats your apartment. His eyes are dark. Darker than you ever remember seeing them. You think, maybe, there’s a hint of cruelty floating in them.

“You’re okay.” His eyes scan over you to assure himself as well. He reminds himself that blood is not yours.

Your eyes drift back toward the body. The body that used to house a person with a life and family and-

“Look at me.” Dave’s voice is commanding, forcing obedience. The other side of him is coming out. This is not the Dave you know. It’s the one you’ve caught glimpses of. The one he told you about. This Dave is a monster. A monster you should run from.

“You did nothing wrong. He would’ve killed you.” His hand presses into your neck again. “You did the right thing.”

You thought this moment would break you, losing your Dave, but this Dave is yours too. You thought the monster would scare you. It’s everything you’ve ever stood against, but you want the monster.

A thrill shoots through you, unlocking a deep urge. The world should be blurry, hazing like the TV shows when someone experiences a trauma, but it’s buzzing around you instead. Your senses feel heightened.

Dave says your name. You look up at him. Time stands still. He knows you know. It’s a question of if you will accept it. You shouldn’t. You’re too good for him. He shouldn’t tarnish you, but he catches that look. It’s everything he feels after a kill. The adrenaline rush, the buzz of life through your veins. Maybe he didn’t tarnish you. Maybe he unlocked something in you. Your bloodied hands tangle in his thick hair as he surges forward lips colliding with yours.

This is wrong, so wrong. Another man’s blood is literally on your hands as they tangle in Dave’s hair. You should be disgusted with yourself. This is wicked. You’ve run from the wickedness your entire life. Now you feel like you should have embraced it. He bites your lip, so hard there’s a metallic taste in your mouth. It only spurs you on. A familiar ache grows in your core. Your teeth nash against his, meeting each of his tortuous movements.

His hand squeezes your neck just enough to make your head go dizzy. You should hate this. You should despise this, but your cunt clenches again. “You like that don’t you?”

He loosens his hold, the blood rushing back quickly. It’s a new rush, crashing over the edges of your heightened senses. You feel as if every nerve ending in your body is on fire and you never want it to stop.

His rough voice presses to your ear as he caresses your exposed neck reminding you how fragile your own life is. “The little slut likes when I get rough.”

You whimper at his words, your underwear growing wetter with each passing second. His knee presses between your thigh, granting some tension to your aching core. You move your hips against it. “Not so fast, Darling.” He tightens his grip on your neck, pressing you further against the wall. “You think just because you killed him you’re in charge now?”

Another whimper falls from your lips. An involuntary tear seascapes the corner of your eyes, beginning its descent. Dave’s eyes flicker to it, head cocking to the side. His eyes look different- wild verging on insane. You should be scared, but it’s still Dave. You trust him. Then his tongue is against your cheek, wiping it away with a long, slow swipe. Your nipples pearl under your thin nightshirt.

He whispers in your ear. “I'm in charge. Do you understand?”

You nod.

“Good.”

He produces a knife out of thin air. It’s one you’ve seen before. He’s sharpened it at your kitchen counter. He brushes the tip along your collarbone. Your eyes track its every movement. It’s not enough to cut you, but enough that you can feel how sharp it is. Your heart thuds harder, but your hips move against his knee of their own accord.

He clicks his tongue, forcing the knife down in a single swift movement. You cry out, expecting to feel pain, only to find your chest exposed and your nightshirt torn down the middle. He hand gropes your breast, squeezing it like a stress ball. A gasp falls from your lips as his finger runs over your nipple.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.”

By your neck, he leads you in front of him to the bathroom. He kicks the door shut, pressing you against it. He produces the knife again, running it through your pajama shorts. The scraps fall to the floor, leaving you in the delicate lace pair of underwear you wore in anticipation of Dave’s arrival.

His tongue clicks appreciatively. The tip of the knife traces over the lace. You whimper, eyes falling closed. He falls to his knees.

“So pretty.” Dave presses his mouth to your clothes cunt. He works his tongue over the thin fabric, pulling it between his teeth. It’s just enough to tease and not enough to provide relief.

“Dave.” It comes out so hoarse you don’t recognize your own voice.

He grins up at you, pulling the knife through your underwear with a rehearsed flick of his wrist. They join your shorts on the floor. You’re bared to him while Dave is fully clothed.

You catch the blood in his hair, splattered on his clothes. It’s drying on your skin now. You know you should be repulsed by it, but the thought of what you did still makes you buzz to life.

“Stay right there.” He eases to his feet. “I mean it. Don’t move.”

He turns on the shower, pushing the hot water all the way. As steam starts to fill the room, Dave removes his clothing item by item. He’s not making a show of it per se, but he is commanding, concise. He pulls another knife from his belt and sets it on the counter. Your breath catches and he makes eye contact. A whisper of a smirk plays on his lips. “Standing so still for me, darling.” You squeeze your legs together, feeling the familiar squelching between your vaginal lips.

You eye the knife a moment longer, biting your lip. Something about it calls out your name. You’re not sure if you should grab it and find the nearest person to plunge it into or if you want Dave to use it with you, on you.

Dave catches the glimmer in your eyes as you eye it. A newfound excitement tugs in his belly. A whole new world is opening before him. One where he doesn’t have to hide all this shit from you, one where you might enjoy it too. You’re not shutting down after killing that man, his body cooling on your living room floor. You liked it. He likes it.

He kicks off his boots and socks. His pants follow. Your eyes travel over his body. The scars make sense now. You still don’t know what Dave does, but you know it’s bad. There’s a small band across his ankle that houses another knife. You should hate him for all of this, kick him to the curb. Instead, your cunt is soaking, and you’re not sure you’ve ever wanted him more.

He chuckles as you eye the knife on his ankle. It’s the only thing he wears other than his briefs now. His dick bulges, usually pulling your attention, put you can’t pull your eyes away from the knife.

Pulling off his underwear, Dave comes back over to you, pressing his body against yours. His teeth scrape over the veins of your neck and he bites down on your earlobe as his hand tangles in your hair.

You release a soft yell. You barely recognize the man in front of you, but it doesn’t matter.

He grips your thigh, hiking it over his hip, running his dick through your sopping cunt.

“You like my knives, Darling?”

You nod as pleasure plays like a movie across your body.

He gips your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Use your words.”

“Yes.” It barely comes out.

His brows raise in amusement. “Would you like me to use them?”

“You won’t hurt me.” You say it as a statement.

Flashes of his softer side show before he clamps them down. “I won’t hurt you.”

“Yes.” It’s almost a yell.

Without hesitation, he grabs the knife off the vanity, pressing it to your neck. “On your knees.”

You obey coming face to face with his hard cock. The knife stays against your delicate flesh.

“You know what to do, baby.”

Again, you obey, taking it into your mouth. The knife is cool against your neck, the only reminder it’s still there. You don’t know how it never pierces your flesh either by dumb luck or expert skill.

Dave’s hips thrust forward, almost triggering your gag reflex. Tears fall from your eyes. Curses sputter from Dave’s lips as he uses your mouth. “Such a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

You breathe from your nose, forcing yourself to nod.

“Shit!” Dave curses, pulling out of your mouth. “I’m going to paint that pretty pussy of yours.”

Your cunt clenches as a small moan tumbles from your lips. He chuckles, hand closing around your neck once more as he ushers you into the shower.

The water is hot, burning against your skin as if it might melt your skin off. Dave holds you under the water. Your breath catches as your body screams out. The water beneath you runs red as the blood washes from your skin.

Your back hits the cool tile wall granting relief from the scalding water. He lathers soap over the parts of your body still stained red, fingers occasionally brushing under your breasts, tweaking nipples.

“You’re so beautiful, darling. Even covered in blood.”

You whimper again, senses overloaded from the trauma, the rush, the teasing. “Dave, please.”

“Please what? You have to use your words, Doll.”

Your walls constrict again, desperate to be around something. Your arms and legs are heavy with need. He’s never used that term with you before. It should be degrading. It is, but it sets another wave of pleasure. You wonder if it’s possible to orgasm virtually untouched. If it is, you’re close.

“Fuck me.”

His tongue clicks as he floats around yours, almost taunting you. He grabs your boob, hard enough it should hurt. It does a little, but pleasure overrides the pain.

“Ask nicely, Doll.”

His finger trails over your collarbone traveling between your breasts and down across your hip. Your thighs squeeze. His palm slips around as he grabs the back of your thigh, kneading it.

“I said.” His words come out like a punch. Concise. Almost sharp. “Ask. Nicely.” He pushes your thigh over his waist, forcing your supportive leg to your tiptoes.

You feel his cock near your entrance, brushing your pussy lips. You moan, hips bucking. He pushes against your neck, running your head into the tiles behind you. “You little slut. You think you can just take it.”

You gasp. “Please.”

“What do you want?”

“I want your cock inside me, Daddy.” It tumbles out of your lips before your brain catches up.

He thrusts his cock into you, sheathing himself fully, hitting the deepest parts of you. Then he’s gone, making you feel empty but only for a second until he enters you again. His hand squeezes tighter around your neck. You come for air as he continuously splits you apart thrust by thrust, pulling out almost fully each time.

Your moans are loud, drowned out by the steaming shower. Tears gather in the corners of your eyes. Dave pays you little mind, shows little care as he continues with a brutality you’ve never encountered, a brutality that only makes you soak his cock. He doesn’t slow. You don’t want him to. He never touches your clit, but you're propelling forward, chasing that high in a way you never have.

The pitch of your voice steps up. The spasm starts in your stomach traveling down to your core as you flutter around Dave’s cock. Your supporting leg shakes. Still, he never eases up, working you through your orgasm.

It hits you like a punch to the gut, a scream piercing the air. Your scream. Dave doesn’t stop. He doesn’t stutter. He keeps pace, chasing his own release.

With each thrust, you yell. You hear the squelching of your sopping cunt against his dick over the roar of the shower. His continuous movements extend your release until he finally buries himself inside you, coating your pussy with his cum. “Such a perfect little doll for me.”

You let out a final whimper as he pulls around, dropping your leg. Your knees buckle. You barely keep yourself upright, legs tingling and shaking.

Dave kisses your cheek. The softness causes a sense of whiplash. He glances over your body, making sure the blood is cleared from your skin and hair. He rinses the blood from his hair as your brain slowly returns to the world. You expect to be exhausted, and you are, but there’s still that low buzz deep within your body.

You killed a man. You took a life. You should feel bad. There’s a fucking body in your living room, but all you can think about is the rush. You liked it. Watching Dave, you wonder if he feels the same way. There’s no doubt to you that he’s taken lives before. You wonder if he knows how many.

The water stops. Dave dries you off with the soft bath towel. He helps you into his soft white t-shirt and tucks you into bed.

“I need to make a call.” He kisses your head and shuts himself in your bathroom. You hear him on the phone, but his words are muffled by the door.

You lay on your back, sheets cool against your hot skin. Staring at the ceiling, you can still feel the blood dripping from your hands, hear the piercing of the knife. You heart rate picks up. What would it be like to do that again? Would you feel the same rush of adrenaline? Would it feel better?

Dave comes out, tossing his cell on the nightstand and sliding under the covers. His hand covers yours.

“What about…?”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s taken care of.”

You don’t ask. He probably knows people. His fingers drift over your cheeks and jaw. They skim lower, following the same path down your neck as your arteries. They feel cool against your skin, drawing patterns where you anticipate bruises tomorrow.

“Did I hurt you?”

He’s almost back to the Dave you know, soft and kind, but you still catch the edges of his dark side. He’s more of a blend now. You think you might be getting the real, true Dave now.

“No,” you shake your head. There was pain. You’ll be sore tomorrow, sport a few scrapes and bruises, but it doesn’t feel like he hurt you.

Dave kisses your forehead, fingers tracing your collarbone now. A question forms in your head, gnawing at the corners of your brain.

“Dave?”

“Hmmm?” He sees distracted, entranced as he follows his hand over your skin, skimming the tops of your breasts. Your nipples tighten making you curl your toes with a familiar tug of desire. How are you ready to go again after that?

“What if I liked it?”

His eyebrow quirks. “The sex?” he pinches your hardened nipple making you gasp.

“All of it?”

His palm stops. The pitch of his voice deepens. “All of it?”

You bite your lip, nodding.

“Use your words, Doll.” He cups your breath, teasing your nipple more. His breath is hot in your ear. “Tell me what you like.”

“I-” Can you really say this out loud? Will it blacken your soul? Or is it already charred and damned.

“Tell me.” He smacks your chest like a parent might smack their child’s hand away from an electrical outlet.

Your pussy clenches as you squeeze your legs together. He smacks your other breast in the same manner. You gasp, practically yelling out your answer. “Killing him.”

The air stands still. For a second, you expect a look of disgust to cross Dave’s face. Instead, a smirk grows. “You liked that?”

You nod, not able to say anything else. Dave climbs on top of you, kicking away the covers. He pushes his hand up your sternum, kneading your breast before running it back down. He repeats the motion, rotating between the two. Moans grow in your chest. He bites your earlobe.

“Did you like the way the knife slid into him?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, Daddy,” Dave growls in your ear.

“Yes, Daddy,” you repeat between moans. Your sopping hole drips onto the sheets below you. Dave’s motions steadily grow in intensity.

“Did my doll like the way her body felt alive? Like you absorbed that bastard's energy.”

Tears drop from your eyes. You want him again. You need him again. “Yes, Daddy.”

“Does my doll want to do it again?”

“Yes, Daddy.” You practically scream. You should be ashamed of the answer. You should be ashamed that there isn’t an ounce of hesitation in your being.

“Fuck,” Dave says, shoving your legs apart. He pushes his cock inside you again. “Don’t worry, darling. I’ll make sure you will.”

Dave moves inside you. It’s not as violent, not as torturous as earlier, but it’s just as satisfying. The promise of more ignites a fire inside of you.

Dave takes you to the brink, pushing you until you pass out from exhaustion, spent, used, and sated.

“I’ll keep you by my side with my superhuman might.”

When you wake up the next morning, the body is gone. The lamp you broke is replaced and a new area rug is delicately placed in your apartment. Not a speck or splatter of blood can be found anywhere. Dave stands in the kitchen gray sweatpants hanging low on his hips. He cooks eggs on the stovetop and a steaming cup of coffee sits on the counter.

You wrap your arms around him. He hums. His skin is warm beneath your cheek, heart beating against your palm. “I like the rug.”

“Me too.”

“Kryptonite”

#dave york #dave york x reader #dave york x you #dave york x female reader #dark!dave york #dark!fic #pedro pascal #the equalizer 2

67 notes · View notes

hopelesslyromanticgay · 1 year

Text

Lemonade — Vada Cavell

When I was seven years old, my friend , Vada and I started a lemonade stand. Ever since then, she and I have been inseparable.

It was a hot summer week, and quite frankly, we had nothing to do. Her mom had just gotten back from the store and asked us to unpack the groceries. Neither of us wanted to, but like I said earlier, we had nothing else to do.

"Oh my goddd the weather is killing me!" I complained, putting the milk carton in the fridge. She nodded in agreement.

"Look!" she squealed, "lemons!" She takes out a huge bag of lemons.

"That's a lot of lemons, V," I laughed.

"Buy tuh-woo, get three free," she desperately tried to read the label.

"You mean buy two get three free?" I tried to raise an eyebrow.

"Whatever," she rolled her eyes, "we should make lemonade!"

I got out her mom's fancy pitcher and a knife, and miraculously didn't get cut while slicing the lemons. Less miraculously, the juicing of the lemons on multiple occasions stung our eyes.

"Okay, we gotta add lots of sugar," Vada told me, tasting the pure lemon juice. Her face puckered up in a way that even then I knew was not good.

"I love sugar!" I smiled, pouring an unhealthy portion of sugar in.

By the end of the afternoon, we made one dollar an seventeen cents with our one sale to the boy, Nick, down the street.

"We should go buy candy!" Vada's eyes lit up.

"Ooh! M&M's! And jolly ranchers! And gummies!"

That was also the day we learned that there's not much you can but for $1.17.

It was a devastating day.

Twelve years later...

"Hi Vada," I exclaim, running up to the shorter brunette, giving her an obligatory head pat before enveloping her in a hug.

"Hi!" she smiles widely. I love her smile so much.

"What do you wanna do today?" I ask.

"What's there to do?" she replies. We end up lying down on her trampoline for at least an hour, scrolling through TikTok's together.

"What is it with the Lana Del Rey, will you serve me Lemonade trend?" Vada says, confused.

"No idea," I confess, "but it's fun to see celebrity glow ups showcased by it."

"No, totally," she laughs, "You've totally gotten a glow up."

"No, you're literally hotter than the sun, shut up Vada!" Vada's definitely the prettiest girl I know. Everything about her is so flawlessly beautiful. She could literally wear the silliest most random outfit she found at the bottom of her closet and pull it off perfectly.

"You shut up!"

We sit in silence for a moment, then an idea pops into my head.

"Let's make lemonade!" I decide. Vada shoots up excitedly, "yes please! Anything other than TikTok's!"

"I agree."

We set off to work, making (much better) lemonade than we made last time.

"Okay, first of all, your mom has a lemon juicing thingy now, which feels over the top fancy, but we should probably use it," I tell her.

"It's literally a thingy you put lemons on and twists them, that's not fancy!"

"Whatever, let's use it!"

We slice up the lemons and begin to juice them.

"Damn, if this is what giving handjobs to guys is like, I do not want to date guys. Honestly, not really into that even before this. Like honestly, they're not doing it for me," she rambles. Her rambles are the cutest thing. If you don't interrupt her, she can go one for hours about conspiracy theories, shows, books, songs. It's one of the many things I love about her.

"Vada, you're literally gay, you don't have to worry about handjobs."

"No you're literally gay!" she points a finger at me. I pretend to take offense, slapping a hand over my heart. Joking around with her is the highlight of any day.

"We're both gay, now work on the water to sugar to lemon ratio," I decide.

"Why are you turning lemonade into mathhhhh," she complains.

"Just work on it!" I exclaim.

"Anything for you, my dear," she winks at me.

We finally finish the lemonade after fifteen minutes of bickering. I'm excited to try it, honestly. I haven't had good lemonade in years.

"Will you give me some?" she asks, noticing I've poured myself a glass.

"Pay Up!" I laugh.

"Is $1.17 enough?" she asks innocently.

"Why, you got that much?"

"The exact same coins," she confesses. I blush at the fact that she's kept coins from twelve years ago that we earned selling lemonade this whole time. I've never seen her as the sentimental type

"Damn, I must have meant a lot to you," I tease her.

"Not as much as you mean to me now," she takes a step closer to me, booping my nose.

"Oh yeah," I say, "and how much is that?"

She smirks, taking the lemonade out of my hand and setting it down on the counter.

"Enough to do this," she cups my cheeks and stands on the tips of her toes to brush her soft lips against mine. I hate to sound like a stereotype, but I swear I can feel fireworks go off in my stomach. My arms wrap themselves around her waist before finding their way to her hips and gently pulling her closer. She tastes like lemons and sugar(unsurprisingly considering we're making lemonade). Such a perfect taste for such a hot day. I could get used to this. It's hard not to crave more and more.

It's funny that just a few nights ago we were making fun of couples on TV who were like this, and yet now we're completely totally a cliche.

"Sorry if I read that wrong," Vada apologizes after pulling away.

"You're not reading it wrong, don't worry," I reassure her, kissing her lips again.

251 notes · View notes

skvatnavle · 2 years

Text

Anything For You

Robert 'Bob' Floyd x reader

Warnings: Oh, lawdy. Where do I begin? mentions of alcohol, kissing, fluff, SMUT! oral (f and m receiving), fingering, slightly dom!Bob, unprotected sex, rough sex, breeding kink, cream pie and... I think that's it?

Notes: Shout out to @green-socks and @maggiescarborough for looking this over. It was a huge help 💜

And thanks to @a-reader-and-a-writer for lending me her dividers 💜

And thanks to @serpentssss for the amazing ask 💕

Words: 3.1K

You’d been with Bob for a little over two years and despite him being away for some of that time, it had been the best years of your life. You could honestly say you’ve never loved anyone like you love Bob and you knew he felt the same. He never missed an opportunity to tell you that, and everything was easy with him. Like it was meant to be.

So when he one day asked if you wanted to move in with him, you said yes even before he finished his sentence. And that’s how you found yourself here in the middle of your housewarming party. Bob had invited some of his Top Gun buddies and you had invited the friends you knew would fly here. Already feeling like a navy wife, you had to move away from home for Bob, but you didn’t mind, you’d follow him anywhere.

The night had been full of drinks, karaoke (where Rooster had laid claim on the mic) and lots of dancing. Bob would often find you and give you sweet kisses, before returning to his buddies. But he always kept you close, smiling every time you caught his eye. He was happier than you’d ever seen him before. And so were you.

Later you escape the warmth of the living room, joining Laila in the cool night air out on the terrace. Sipping on your drinks, you catch up on everything that has happened with her since you moved away. But it doesn’t take long before she turns her attention back to you.

“Tell me everything. How are things with you and Bob?”

“Everything is good. I’m seriously on cloud nine. I’m so happy.” You pause, smiling wide from ear to ear. “Bob is amazing. The sweetest and most caring guy I’ve ever met. I love him so much.”

“But…?”

You look up, only to find her leaning forward with a raised eyebrow. Fidgeting with the label on your bottle, you just shrug and try to seem indifferent, when you look back into her eyes.

“No buts. Everything is great.”

She just gives you a knowing look, coaxing you to tell more. Damn, she knows you too well and could always spot if there was anything remotely wrong. You really shouldn’t say anything, because it really wasn’t a problem, was it?

“Well, I… Okay, it’s… No, I can’t say that.”

“Come on, sweetie. What is it?”

You almost feel ashamed that you’ve made it seem like there’s a problem. Especially since you should have just talked to Bob about it instead. But he is so sweet and you’re afraid he won’t understand.

“Okay. It’s… sexual. But before I tell you, I’ll let you know that the sex is great, just so you don’t get any ideas.”

She just nods, ready to listen. You sigh heavily, before turning towards her.

“Okay, so… The problem is that--- Maybe he’s too nice?” you pause, cringing at the way you sound. “Sometimes I just wish he could be a little rougher. Be a little more dominating, take charge. He is so sweet and always makes sure I’m satisfied, but I wish that he just once took charge and… Hell, he doesn’t even have to make me come if he could just grab me by the throat or something. Just once.”

She just nods, knowing exactly what you mean. Your ex was the polar opposite of Bob personality wise, but the sex had been mind-blowing. You love that Bob is a lover, but sometimes you wish he could just be rougher with you.

Feeling silly over the whole thing, you quickly tell Laila not to say anything and keep quiet. Bob doesn’t need to know about this, cause really, you are happy and would hate if he got hurt over this. Laila gets up and holds out her hand.

“Wanna come back inside with me?”

“In a few. It’s hot as hell in there.”

You give her hand a little squeeze, before she walks to the door. When she steps over the threshold, she almost bumps into Bob. Wide eyed and fidgeting with the little straw in his cup, Laila has no doubt that Bob heard every word.

A few hours later, the guests are gone and you’re standing in the mess they left. You loved them all, but man, they were messy. Looking towards the bedroom, you see the soft light seeping out between the door and the frame. Bob had already gone to bed as the last guest left. He had seemed a bit off the last couple of hours, but maybe Hangman had just forced him to do a shot. That always seemed to make him go under faster.

But to your surprise, Bob isn’t in the bed when you enter the bedroom. Sitting in the chair in the corner, he looks to the glass in his hand, the liquor swirling around softly. When you call his name, he doesn’t look up, just downs the shot, before putting the glass down next to a bottle of whiskey on the table. It’s not until then his eyes meet yours followed by a dark expression on his face.

“Bob? What's wrong?”

Pushing off the armrests, he stands and slowly makes his way over to you, his gaze intense. As he stops mere inches from you, he reaches up and cups your jaw, his thumb gently caressing the soft flesh of your cheek.

“Do you love me?”

Taken aback by his words, not knowing why he would ever ask you that question like this, it takes you a few seconds to answer.

“Of course. You know I love you more than anything. Bob, wh-”

“Quiet.”

It’s not a request, but a straight up order. So you stop, hating how your body is reacting. You should be worried, wondering why Bob is acting weird, but the only thing on your mind is how his words and actions make your body quiver.

“Get on your knees.”

“But Bob, what’s-”

“Get. On. Your. Knees. That’s an order.”

The heat is already pooling between your thighs as you slowly kneel in front of him. He hasn’t even touched you yet, but you can already feel how soaked you are. His thumb moves over your lower lip, and you feel his finger trembling slightly.

“You know what I want you to do.”

Trembling at his words, you fumble with his belt, before slowly pulling down the zipper. Letting his pants fall to the ground, you see how his hard cock is, already straining against the fabric of his underwear. You hook your fingertips in the elastic of his boxer briefs and pull a little, looking up into his eyes. Bob is already breathing hard with anticipation, so you pull the briefs down and free his aching cock.

Your mouth is watering at the sight, wanting to suck him so bad, but you already know from his tone that Bob is calling the shots tonight, and you’re not going to risk having this whole thing stopped for doing anything before he tells you to.

“Like what you see, baby?” he pauses, almost sounding nervous, “Be a good girl and… suck my cock.”

You want to start off slow, tease him a little at first, but you can’t help yourself. You surge forward and lap at his cock, licking up his length before taking him into your mouth.

You’re savoring the slow drag of his dick against your lips, saliva building up in the back of your mouth as you try to take more of it. You moan, deep and low in your throat, Bob’s dick muffling the sound. You moan out loud, and Bob does too. You could cry at how good this feels, wordlessly appreciating how perfect Bob’s cock feels against your tongue.

“So good for me. S-so good for me.”

Bob groans above you, his hand tightening in your hair even more, tipping over the edge of being painful. You whimper at the sensation, but you feel your pussy throb, too. You’re not one to shy away from a little pain with your pleasure.

Breaking away for air, you wrap your hand around him, before taking Bob in your mouth again, short bobs of your head, taking only half of his cock. You hollow out your cheeks and suck hard. He calls your name from above you and thrusts forward, nearly gagging you in the process. You get the hint to take as much of Bob as you can, closing the space between your hand and your lips as your throat loosens.

Bob startles you when he tugs your hair and drags you off his cock. He pulls you back so that you’re looking up at him. You let out a whimper at the sudden loss of contact, but the sight before you is a reward in itself. Bob, your gorgeous, sweet Bob, looks completely wrecked already, beautiful blue eyes blown wide and gazing down on you. Dirty blonde hair damp with sweat and clinging to his forehead.

Panting heavily, he looks into your eyes and wets his lips, before loosening the grip on your hair, but still holding you in place, mere inches from his aching cock.

“Do you know how much I love you?”

Nodding, you give him a soft yes, never breaking eye contact. His free hand runs through his damp locks as he swallows hard.

“I would do anything for you.”

The words hang in the air, the weight of them heavy. Anything for you. It suddenly hits you. He heard you and Laila talking, that’s why he’s doing this, pushing himself out of his comfort zone. He’s doing it for you. The realization makes your heart beat faster and without thinking, you get up and kiss him deeply. You savor the feeling of his lips against yours, positive you’ll never get tired of the softness of them. Bob lets out a small sigh and puts his hands behind your head to pull you closer. His mouth opens a little and he’s licking at your bottom lip, with a hint of teeth. You taste the whiskey on him, your tongue dancing over his.

Bob tugs at your hair again, pulling you away. His lips are already swollen and spit-slick, tempting you to kiss him again. But he holds you in place, as he leans in to whisper in your ear.

“I’m not done yet. Take your clothes off.”

Without question, you follow his order and start stripping down for him. You can feel his eyes burning into you as you slowly expose more skin. It’s funny. You’ve been naked countless times with Bob, but for the first time you truly feel naked, exposed. Once done, you stand there as his eyes roam your form, his eyes dark with lust.

“Get on the bed.”

Eyes never leaving his, you lay down on the bed. He walks up to you, his warm palms slowly running up your legs towards your wet core. You ache for him, dying for him to touch you, but he barely brushes past the small patch of curls before moving his hands down your thighs again.

Slowly, he pushes your legs apart, spreading you open for him. Wetting his lips, he dives down between your legs and places a soft kiss on your mound, making you moan his name. He licks up your slit, tasting how needy you are for him, flicking his tongue at your clit.

“Fuck, Bob!”

He licks again, painfully slow, teasing you. When you whimper beneath him, he gives in and places his mouth on your clit and starts sucking. Looking down, you see him smirking against your folds.

Bob takes his time, licking, sucking and biting lightly at your clit. You buck against him, needing more, but he moves his hands to your hips, to keep you still. You are trashing under him, trying to get him to speed up, and you can see he’s loving the power he has over you.

“Lay still, sweetheart. Or I’ll stop.”

Biting your lip, you curse under your breath as you try to lay still for him. His mouth finds your core again, eating you like you were his last meal and with a final flick of his tongue, you come undone. As you cry out his name, Bob slides his fingers into you. Pumping his long digits in and out of your wet heat, he keeps you coming while working you open. Getting you ready for him.

The grip on your hip tightens, but you whimper desperately, so Bob doesn’t let go. Hoping it would bruise, hoping you’d later see the imprint of his fingers on your skin, showing that you’re his. Letting you remember what he did tonight.

You swallow, rolling against Bob again, showing how much you need him. Those beautiful eyes of his grow darker, blue irises almost entirely eclipsed by the black holes of his pupils.

You need him. Need him to kiss you until all you can taste is him. Need him inside you. Captivated you watch as he fists himself, giving his cock a few pumps. His muscles tighten with each pass of his fist, making you squirm under his gaze. If he didn’t do something soon, you were going to combust.

“Fuck me… please…”

And with that soft plea falling from your lips, Bob gives in and finally pushes into you. As he sheathes himself in you, inch by delicious inch, you moan out his name. The stretch of him burns, setting your entire body on fire. But you welcome the ache. Bob brings a hand up to gently stroke your hair. A gesture so tender, you fall apart. Caught between the mattress and the man you love. The man you never want to let go.

You close your eyes, whimpering as Bob pulls back and thrusts back into you slowly, spearing you open in the most delicious way. But it wasn’t enough. As if he heard your silent plea, he pulls out of you and both hands move to your hips to flip you over. Laying on your stomach, you feel his hands caress your thighs and ass before pulling you up, face down in the mattress and ass up in the air. He repositions himself behind you and sinks into you.

He pulls back just a little, before pushing back in with a deep groan. He does it again, painfully slow, letting you feel every inch of his cock. But soon he is rutting into you, his hand moving to your shoulder to hold you in place. His other hand grips your hip harder as he sets a punishing pace, his pelvis slapping against you with every thrust. This is unlike all the other times you’d been with Bob. This time he was possessive, needy. As if he couldn’t get you close enough.

“Fuck, sweetheart. You feel so good!”

With each snap of his hips, he sends bolts of pleasure through your entire body, and it doesn’t take much for you to come again. Clamping down on his cock, you feel his pace falter for a second as he grips onto your hips, trying to steady himself. But he keeps fucking you through your orgasm, his pace soon relentless again.

His hands move up and grab you by the shoulder, pulling your back flush against his chest. One hand finds its way between your legs, skillfully playing with your clit, while the other closes around your neck. He kisses your neck, just below your ear, before he whispers through strained breath.

“Is this what you wanted?”

Thrusting hard into you, he makes you whimper, pulling the most sinful noises from you. You’re lost in the feeling of him, lost in the pleasure. Barely able to think, you can barely form a sentence.

“Y-yes… Fu-Oh, God. Please…”

Just as you feel the familiar tightening in the pit of your stomach, Bob pulls away from you. Wide eyed, you stare over your shoulder, begging for him to keep fucking you, to keep using you.

“Please don’t stop.”

“Don’t worry, baby. Lay down on your back.”

Eagerly you lay down, spread open for him. You don’t even care how needy you must look, how desperate. You want him to ruin you completely. He crawls between your legs and buries himself in you with one, hard trust. You whimper, already sore, but God, you want more. He grabs your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

“I want you to look me in the eyes when I come inside you.”

Snapping his hips, harder and faster, he keeps holding your gaze, his beautiful blue eyes gone, now completely black with lust. With each drag of his cock, he brings you closer to yet another earth shattering orgasm. His pace begins to falter again, the thrusts becoming irregular. He is so close, but he fights it.

“God, sweetheart. I-I wanna f-fill you with my cum.”

He stutters, his cock barely leaving your cunt, his thrusts shallow. Looking through heavy lids, he keeps looking into your eyes and he hits that sweet spot in you over and over. You’re so close.

“Fuck, I… I wanna p-put a baby in y-you.”

His name is all that leaves your lips like the sweetest prayer as you come, digging your nails into his shoulders. Bob buries his head in your neck, groaning as he fills you to the brim with his hot release. Thrusting a few more times, he kisses your neck softly, nipping at the tender flesh. You’re completely cock drunk, just lay there completely used with closed eyes.

Bob rolls onto his back and takes you with him, letting your head rest on his chest. Breathing still heavy, he kisses your forehead.

“I, ehm… I hope that was okay?”

Snorting, you hide your face in his chest, giggling like a schoolgirl. How he could even ask that is beyond you. You just look into his eyes, once again seeing your soft sweet Bob, and kiss him.

“That was more than okay. I guess you heard me and Laila?”

He just nods and kisses you again.

“So… This is why you drank that whiskey?”

“Yeah, I… There’s no way I could have done this without any liquor.”

You both giggle softly, before Bob gently breaks away from you. Thinking he’s going for a cloth to clean up, you’re surprised when he pushes your legs together and shoves a pillow under your butt. Cocking your eyebrow at him, you make him smile, blushing to a deep red.

“Ehm, I… I meant the baby thing.”

Thank you so much for reading <3

Tagging: @loverhymeswith @a-reader-and-a-writer @wildbornsiren @edwardbaldwin @chasingdreamer @milestellussy @lucy-sky @sweetfictionalworld @autumnleaves1991-reads @joalsglasses @srry-itshockeyszn @sparrows-corner @multifandom-fangirl4 @lorecraft @ouroborus-momento-mori @lil-medic @paintballkid711 @weasleywinchester @tipsykeen @lluckpng @blindedbyyourgrace17 @levylovegood @andshivroytoo @weakling-grace @mayhem24-7forever @happyblogsstuff @nik2blog @serpentssss @straightforwardly @sadpetalsstuff @ughdummy @chaoticassidy

#robert bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd fanfiction #robert bob floyd #top gun maverick fanfiction #lewis pullman fanfiction #bob floyd fanfiction

984 notes · View notes

wroteclassicaly · 2 years

Text

This Is For You

(Eddie Munson x Female Reader)

Summary: With Hawkins burning, you only want one thing, or rather, someone—Eddie Munson.

Warnings: Language, smutty content, vaginal fingering, NSFW, dominant Eddie, mentions of injury and blood, light choking, & oral sex.

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Female Reader

A/N: I have no idea what this trash is, other than me letting my emotions and my dissociation pour into my writing. I’ll most likely do a part two if anyone is interested? Thanks for all the love on my first Stranger Things (Steddie x Reader) fic! Sorry if this is all over the place. I’m a few episodes from being finished with the series!

Also, it’s obviously obvious that Eddie lives in this fic, but he and the reader are going through some heavy shit (because who wouldn’t be), so it’ll be dark and heavy. Anyways, sorry for my rambling. Enjoy! - Kristen <3

~*~

“I don’t want to talk…” Is all you say, once again looking, not at him, but straight through. If you permit even a morsels glance, you’ll run like a fucking coward.

How ironic.

To say that it’s unnerving to him, that would be a liar’s goldmine. The beat in which you do not miss, fingers pinching together against a tickling press—you let the vocal bomb off with the loudest give away, mouth wet, yet pursed. “I want to fuck.”

His brows raise and those outrageously, chocolate brown orbs widen, hand curling around his beer bottle’s neck, fingernail shredding beneath its faded label. A deep sigh paddles his chest, thoughtful. “Y/N…”

He knows.

You aren’t doing well. An understatement, to be exact. In the nineteen years Eddie Munson has known you, boldly asking him for any kind of sexual activity is so far left field, that the monsters and the damned Upside Down makes more sense. You’re not giving him any eye contact, zilch emotion, with the exception that your request brings in—a vapid heat surfing its tail. You push passed the long haired rocker, but he grasps a ring clad hand around your wrist, those fucking eyes drilling holes deep enough that you can open your own rift in them.

It’s a comfort you’re not ready to accept, to indulge in. Yanking your limb from Eddie’s grasp, you try to swallow over the sting that piles into your throat when his hurt immediately filters in, distorting his beautiful features.

“Y/N-“

“Can we or not, Eddie?”

More pained directed your way in heaps.

His jaw clenches tightly under pressure, fingers tapping an idle beat across the beer bottle, tongue suctioning over his teeth, a crude noise echoing around the cabin. He’s avoiding your stare, mulling. It’s your turn to heave a hefty groan, already heading back out the open doorway, in which your bestfriend occupies. He doesn’t give you a response.

“Yeah, whatever. You know what? Fuck this, plenty of fish in Hawkins, am I right? I mean… they might be fried now, but…” A humorless laugh leaves you, bogging your throat into a constricting silence.

There’s a coping mechanism coming forth. Make jokes about the aftermath Vecna draped over your shithole town, in order to survive its ever lasting effects. It hasn’t been four weeks, but it’s a lifetime in your mind. It’s a minute too many. And you refuse to fucking think about anything that won’t make you forget.

“Stop it.” Eddie bites back, suddenly way too close to you. His worn sneakers in your eye-line.

Did he even close the door?

“I’m not doing anything.” You simply give, unfolding a tad.

Anger. Something Eddie has picked up since his own time underneath Vecna’s world, his… ‘death’. Both of you can’t go back to the way things were—all changed the moment Eddie attempted a deal with Chrissy and she died in his trailer, shredding both your worlds apart to the truth. You clench your eyes closed as Eddie chucks the beer against the wall, murky liquid pooling across the floor, brown glass shattering, Eddie’s breaths hotly fanning your soaked mouth.

“You’re a bitch.” Like a doe being mortally wounded, you feel that shock ice your blood, pulse beginning to race. It’s easy for your lids to flicker open, letting sunlight and Eddie flood your vision.

He’s so close now that he’s writhing in his panting rage, his borrowed shirt gaped open—scars from battle easily spotted. The deeper ones are still bandaged, kept away. Those dark irises are gone, a black cavern, caving to his animalistic pain, his primal want. Want for you to put an end to this, to be you again so he can find himself, for this not to be lonely as hell, and fuck—yeah, to bury his dick so deep in your pussy he isn’t sure where he ends and you fucking begin. But that road block is stopping him, halting violently to your trembling accusations.

“This is your fucking fault! Fuck you!” You shriek, purposely letting yourself shove at his chest, no other words dubbed appropriate.

You both know it isn’t anyone’s fault. Not human, anyways.

Eddie seems unfazed, sneering. “Oh, baby. If you want me to feel something, then you should try this.” He lifts your wrists into a binding bite, splaying them over his healing wounds, ones you purposely avoided.

You struggle to speak, a rebuttal caught on your tongue. Eddie backs you into a quick swivel, glass shards crunching beneath your feet. You collide into a wooden wall, dust billowing out around your frames, Eddie caging you in. Your hands are unable to escape his hold. You’re battling if you really want to or not.

“What’s wrong? Did I finally get some emotion out of the goddamned robot girl? Hmm?” His nose smudges yours, fingertips—damp with beer—leave your wrist bone to brush over your lips, pushing, pulling, exposing your teeth.

Eddie isn’t sure what the hell he’s doing, but he’s tired of pretending everything is fine. If you’re going to insult him, then he isn’t hanging onto one notion of sanity for this moment. The guy he was before all this—a freak, simply judged, turned into a wanted man that barely survived a demonic underworld, covered in their reminders—that kid would’ve tried to reason with you. But as you don’t make any move to tell him to kiss your ass, to equip a comeback, Eddie knows. You’re different people now.

That languid beat begins to pummel your rib cage with a sharpness, winded air getting trapped inside your lungs. Eddie lets his fingers leave your mouth, wrapping a hand around your throat in a simultaneous drag, his remaining one left to keep your wrists in position, his cool rings leaving a slight imprint behind as he uses his digits to tilt your neck, bending his tall silhouette to meet your flesh. He sinks his milky white teeth in, licking an angry bruise that blooms on the break-away. A hollow snap, a welcomed distraction. You fall, Eddie catches. He nods an out to you—it slips, you drown in acceptance.

Eddie releases you, stepping back, observing you as if you’re prey and he’s about to work a way to keep you. The air is on fire and you’re suffocating, falling over the invisible line, a territory that not even Vecna himself can touch. Silent communication is familiar to you and your bestfriend, and it’s unchanging—even now. Like you’ve just been strung up, Eddie your puppet master, you follow his step-backs.

There isn’t nerves, but the daze of a heart stopping descent. Eddie’s voice is raspy and drenched in that naked need to satiate his appetite and yours, those perfect lips parting to utter off a one word command, “Kneel.”

Like led is poured into your kneecaps, you drop in front of your bestfriend, palms slipping across his sternum, hands colliding at your sides, body burning to the brim, tears on your lashes-cold and sticky, matted. Eddie looks like a showman, the front runner for some contest, in which no others hold a candle. He’s unusually quiet, fingers beckoning your mouth to open. You take them down, his jewelry adorned knuckles bumping your nose. It’s not about worry or wondering anymore, it’s a dedication to need and understanding.

You’re still here. Together.

“Good girl.” Eddie is praising, losing himself beneath all surfaces.

Is he really giving in?

On cue, that shared thought process has him stuttering a barely audible question.

“Say you want an out, Y/N. You have one chance right now, because I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop if I fucking start…” He looks stressed at his admittance towards the last part, meeting you halfway with a crouch.

Understanding.

You lift sturdy hands, your faded polish, scraped nail beds from cuts that haven’t healed completely—to grip that light blue top Steve Harrington had loaned Eddie—ripping it apart down the middle. He doesn’t flinch from your prying engrossment, simply lets you go, his fingers retreating from your mouth in a ‘pop’. You tap a pathway across his wounds, angry and welted, others layered in gauze that is seeping with red crimson. Neither of you may talk about this again, but nothing else matters other than getting Eddie Munson between your thighs. Your bestfriend’s waist trickles around a quaking scrape, jagged inhalation relinquishing its hold on his diaphragm.

Your gifting indication towards any semblance comes in a gentle flick of your tongue over Eddie’s woven scar on his abdomen. You make sure to give every singular uncovered mark your lewd enclosure. No otherworldly power could bring Eddie’s eyes off your easing torture, his vision blurring through the tears.

You know.

These clothes he’s wearing, not even his own—you’re on the precipice of hyperventilation if they’re not gone within minutes. You fist a white knuckle grip into tattered fabric, inhaling him like some wild animal. Aftershave, antiseptic, freshly laundered Harrington clothing, cigarette smoke, and that perfected spice Eddie is fragranced in.

His brand.

His guitar pick is gone, having been given to his uncle until Eddie can claim it, along with his rightful innocence.

Chrissy, this is for you.

And you’re sucked back into that timeframe, beaten up denim beneath your weapons strapped bosom, next to Dustin Henderson, watching as Eddie Munson—your bestfriend, brings Hell and Heaven to their knees in another dimension, forging his own chaos, dedicating himself to this cause in her name. And you? That guilt over being selfishly jealous in an apocalyptic life or death situation, envy towards a dead girl, whom had done nothing to you but enchant someone you’ve loved before you could even speak a fucking sentence—is eating you alive. Eddie is frozen, a deer in headlights. Are you coming back?

It’s a dandelion to a hurricane, nothing within seconds. That hard resolve builds its way back around you, your fingers finding his belt, unbuckling, mouth over his smooth jawline, soaking and scorched, pleading with him. “Fuck me like you don’t know who I am.”

You need to forget again.

Eddie is having an internal crisis in a fleeting, secondary pausing. Can he really take you like need, like he can’t breathe if he doesn’t? Will it mean to you what it means to him? He does know you, more than anything he’s ever known his entire life. That soulmate shit, it exists inside you, the singular absolution that remains the same.

Time seems to sprinkle its eerie thunder across you, searing your skin with goosebumps that cause a jolting shiver. Eddie makes a fist, using it to push your floral shirt above your naval, the intricate pattern on his rings drawing circles around it, making you arch—gravity to a fault, and you’re crumbling. Eddie doesn’t take you to the blanket covered couch, doesn’t trip over himself in eager earnest to find a bed to lay you on. His knees knock you back onto the hard floor, a rug your only cushioning. It smells like pine, mothballs, Spring rain.

Your bestfriend’s unruly hair cascades around your face, his slim waist slotting between your legs, hands finishing the work he started. Your shirt tears in a rather comedic unraveling. It joins Steve Harrington’s garment beside your head, abandoning you to overlook Eddie’s body.

He must be hurting so badly…

You’re the biggest bitch alive right now, Eddie is right about that new nickname. Asking this of him after everything he’s been through—both physically and mentally.

“Try and get rid of me after I fill your pussy up, Y/N.” Eddie says it out loud, as if it’s a secretive thought he didn’t mean for your ears.

You start to speak, but Eddie traces your hand until it opens, fingers tickling your palms—jerking you up into him in a crushing embrace, relishing in how badly it hurts his bandaged form. He yanks your bra clasp, dipping his hold underneath the thin straps, tugging until it falls apart. Your thin cotton pants and your ridiculous looking panties are all that remain.

“I should make you beg me.” Eddie’s voice is so warm that it sounds like it’s sun kissed, flaming beneath the sun’s finest rays. “Should make you get back on your knees for me until there’s bruises.”

That ache of familiarity sizzles, making you tense, thighs squeezing closed. Eddie notices, a shit eating grin invading. His thumb pad grazes your bottom lip, his facial curvature meeting your own, piecing together. A ghosting whisper, Eddie troubled by his uneven breaths, manages. “I’ve never wanted to do anything as much as I wanna fuck you right now.”

You can do nothing but nod, entering a locked and sealed territory, that tension snapping. Eddie brings your mouth to his, one hand reclining on your throat, applying minimal pressure, the other slithering its way down into your elastic pants, bumping you into a dragging lean back. You whimper into his mouth when his hand cups you through your ruined underwear, hips rolling into his touch. Every word, each breath, it all sounds so goddamned sinful that you’re lost to Eddie Munson. Backing onto his haunches, Eddie has your shoes and pants off, immediately lifting your legs around his denim wrapped thighs, making sure you feel him.

You grind yourself against his thick hardness, veiled by two layers of fabric—a low growl cartwheeling off your tone. Your hands slink across his back—encouraged to skate across his injuries, a welcomed peace—finding purchase on that ass. His muscles clench underneath your vice grip, letting you move him. Eddie’s delicious mouth rewards yours with a sloppy kiss, his tongue working for entrance—acceptance immediate. Those noisy licks of tongues over one another—messy.

You get Eddie’s belt open the rest of the way, shimmying his jeans down to his ankles, his foot pushing one shoe off, ankle shaking to remove the other. His hands join yours, lacing through your own, as they dip beneath his boxers’ waistband, peeling them off. Those unshed tears wrap around your throat when you see his legs and torso in full.

He barely made it…

Before he can hook too long to your stare, you admire his width, the length. Your mouth is practically salivating, hungry. And Eddie knows he has you captive. If you don’t talk about it, he can still do this, right? And if you block out how much your bestfriend truly means to you, you can let him inside, right?

He spits into his hand, wrapping it around the warmth, pupils demolishing any brown hint his irises birth—all dark and wavy. His neck is red, like a vine wrapping around his flesh, screaming his urges to take. To have. Amidst Hawkins burning, amongst the destruction inside your psyches, you are both bursting at the seams, threads from your closed cuts threatening to wiggle free.

You want to get lost.

Eddie Munson wants to destroy you.

~*~

You raise your arms, hands running through your hair, completely enamored by reality.

We’re really going to do this…

You’d hoped, prayed, but never expected your bestfriend to agree to this. You’ve been so foolishly fucking blind, apparently. Eddie’s mouth is slightly agape, spit perching on his lips, fingers working overtime as he looks at you—merciful and willing. You don’t wait for instruction, knees raising to a bunch, pulling off your panties and flinging them somewhere across the room. Your thighs drop open, feet planting into the rug—rough against your back.

Eddie mumbles something inaudible, holding himself at the base, those veins clawed out over his right hand, winding into his knuckles, his silver bracelet dangling across that very wrist. You’re holding your breath, painting your fingers up and down your chest, seething in a trembling aftershock.

“Get up for me.” Your first command.

Eddie cradles the back of your head when you reach him on shaky fours, at his feet.

“Convince me why we should do this, Y/N. Show me how much you fucking need me.”

It’s already decided, but you entertain it, appeasing your mouth watering curiosity, hand laying atop Eddie’s, nails tapping against his rings, your lips parting, curling over your teeth, you take him into your mouth, that first salty taste melting into your tongue. You moan, knocking his hand out of the way, squeezing, feeling, letting Eddie show you how to touch him. Nude and worshipping him, Eddie is having a hard time controlling himself from using your mouth, discarding your unknown limits. You try a further distance, that gag ever-so-present, only to be ignored. Eddie’s fingers dig into your scalp, tugging harshly on your hair until it aches to an itch at the roots.

When your eyes meet him through the fog, you make it clear you’ll do anything to get to the other side.

“A lady in waiting…” He babbles that nerdy game speak, head dipping back to bare his jugular. “For a true medieval knight.”

There’s my Eddie.

Your mouth is cherry red, swollen, by the time Eddie has to rear back. He wants to fucking kiss that mouth.

It would be okay, yeah? Fuck it.

He nails you to the floor, jaw bone smashing into yours, nose edging yours into a bend, his lips finding you. It’s a frenzied discombobulation, like all air has been vacuumed from planet earth, leaving only Eddie’s breath matching yours pant for pant. Tired and overwhelmed, flooded with trauma that can no longer be discarded, Eddie pulls away, hand splaying above your abdomen, teeth sinking into your bottom lip until you can taste copper—gaining your focus.

“Ask me again, Y/N. Tell me I’m all you fucking need.” He’s damn near whimpering, lost to the possibility of retreating rejection.

He grips your throat with one hand. You swallow against his palming grip, lust drunk. “You know you’re all I’ve ever needed, Eddie.”

Eddie does let out a mewling. You’re giving more than he was prepared for. More than he’s seen from you in weeks. You tug on his long locks, encouraging, tone honey lathered, floating. “Make me come on your fingers.”

“Dammit, Jesus Christ, Y/N.” His bracelet is cool as it trickles along your inner thigh, his firm hand parting you for his feasting.

His rings move patterns—up and down, shaping, mapping, writing some Morse code shit. When he does give into you, it’s a fingertip gliding along your glistening labia, arousal stringing from you. He marvels.

“The sweetest little pussy has always been mine, and no one is gonna take it from me.” He muses, a possessive strength encasing his words, yet he’s still not doing exactly what your body is begging for.

Your back arches, attempting to help you gain an upper hand. You exert yourself, cries softly dying out when Eddie doesn’t give in.

“You could’ve asked anyone to fuck you, but you didn’t.”

He knows.

Eddie’s lips press against your jaw, his fingers finally opening you—warning obliterated—being accepted with a squelching slide. He pushes a little more on your throat to combine, you practically coo at him. He’s never been this hard before, unable to move without that pattering pain. And as you tighten those slick walls around him, his stomach feels the pressure.

You know…

~*~*~**~*~*~

Tagging: @littledemondani @prettyboyeddiemunson @lovelylangdonx

#kristenwrites #my writing #my work #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things 4

536 notes · View notes

i-like-anything-water · 7 months

Note

Ok I already sent this to another blog worded differently too so sorry if you see it later haha but I just really thought you'd like the idea?? Artist Chloé, sketching and painting her secret crushes and stashing them away where no one can reach (and take it away from her), musician Chloé who plays the violin or piano ("exceptional" and elegant) or flamenco guitar that she learned from a Spanish teacher (or in Spain!!!) whether it's a hidden skill thing or when she gets away from Audrey and everyone else and she wants do DO something, BE something!! Chloé taking pictures of friend groups, parents with kids, women with their girlfriends and she stares at everything she couldn't have, couldn't ALLOW HERSELF TO HAVE!! Pictures that are filled with sadness in a way other people can't articulate despite being so so beautiful and framing happiness but there's just something heartbreaking about them that no one can quite get. Chloé Bourgeois, alone in some penthouse apartment just drawing and playing her feelings away, thinking about what could've been?? The bittersweet feeling of seeing the Dupain-Cheng label on a jacket she shoplifted on an impulse just to feel something, not even realizing the label until she was out of the store, then questioning if she DID notice what it was on a subconscious level?? Chloé Bourgeois, a tragic young woman working her ass off through university, giving up on anything but work, hiding that artist inside her away because she's scared if people know she loves and enjoys something, something "useless" especially, they'll take it away from her

this is the third time I'm answering this fic and hopefully this doesn't exit before I could finish -

anon, sweet anon, that is already halfway an amazing fic.

Chloé Bourgeois, who was showered since she could breathe with various forms of 'perfection'. Of what is considered beautiful, meaningful and worthwhile and for a while, she believed it. Mommy believed it, Daddy believed it, so should she.

It's only when she grows older, when she starts playing and painting after discovering more of herself during her teenager years. After discovering what she wants and not what her mother wants. After discovering genuine admiration as opposed to the well practiced script of compliments from her father's colleagues.

Beauty, she has come to realize, was freeing. It was not perfect, rarely it was, and it sometimes caused your fingers to bleed and your voice to tremble.

But beauty was yours. And she have seen and loved beauty in various forms, tucked away in paintings hung on her walls and unfinished tunes in her notebook.

Beauty was freeing. Beauty was hers.

During her late twenties to early thirties she was making do everyday, far from the once rich and proud heiress of a narcissistic businesswoman and enabler father. She was free, struggling yes, but free. Beauty that has transformed as an extended limb - a companion - was with her.

It's when she gets a job accidentally, in the hands of Marinette Dupain-Cheng did she feel the need to retreat and hide.

She never told anyone her beauty, she knew people would make fun if she were genuine. After all, she'd done it as child. Yet, mommy never turned even a glance at her approvingly.

She knew Marinette Dupain-Cheng was beautiful. She wasn't perfect, despite knowing she was Ladybug few years ago. She was beautiful, bold, clumsy, determined, passionate, sarcastic and smart. She was a woman who has seen many things yet chose to remain seeing everything in wonder and in light.

Beauty within beauty itself.

It's no wonder Chloé Bourgeois kept falling for her, again and again.

#chloe bourgeois #chloenette #marinette dupain cheng #FINALLY I MANAGED TO ANSWER THIS WITHOUT IT EXITING #I HAD TW PREVIOUS ANSWERS LOST TO TIME JUST CAUSE THE APP EXITED JEHDUEHSHWHSJWJDHRBF #Anyways this is beautiful and if y'all wanna write a fic about it goooooo #ooc chloe but really canon chloe is still waiting for her redemption

28 notes · View notes

retropopcult · 1 year

Video

youtube

“I’m Not in Love” is a song by English group 10cc, written by band members Eric Stewart and Graham Gouldman. It is known for its innovative and distinctive backing track, composed mostly of the band’s multi-tracked vocals. Released in March 1975 as a single from the band’s third album The Original Soundtrack, it became 10cc’s breakthrough hit worldwide, reaching number one in a dozen countries and number two on the Billboard Hot 100 in the US.

Stewart came up with the idea for the song after his wife, to whom he had been married for eight years at that point, asked him why he didn’t say “I love you” more often to her. He said, “I had this crazy idea in my mind that repeating those words would somehow degrade the meaning, so I told her, ‘Well, if I say every day “I love you, darling”, it’s not gonna mean anything eventually’. That statement led me to try to figure out another way of saying it, and the result was that I chose to say ‘I’m not in love with you’, while subtly giving all the reasons throughout the song why I could never let go of this relationship.”

Once the musical backing had been completed, Stewart recorded the lead vocal and Kevin Godley and Lol Creme the backing vocals, but even though the song was finished they felt it was still lacking something. Stewart said, “Lol remembered he had said something into the grand piano mics when he was laying down the solos. He’d said 'Be quiet, big boys don’t cry’ — heaven knows why, but I soloed it and we all agreed that the idea sounded very interesting if we could just find the right voice to speak the words. Just at that point the door to the control room opened and our secretary Cathy [Redfern] looked in and whispered 'Eric, sorry to bother you. There’s a telephone call for you.’ Lol jumped up and said 'That’s the voice, her voice is perfect!’.” The group agreed that she was the ideal person, but she was unconvinced and had to be coaxed into recording it, using the same whispered voice that she had used when entering the control room. Many felt it was the touch that made the song unique and timeless. Later those whispered lyrics would serve as the inspiration for the name of the 1980s band Boys Don’t Cry.

While recording The Original Soundtrack, 10cc was already being courted by Mercury Records to leave the small UK Records label where they were struggling financially. Stewart said: “I rang them up. I said come and have a listen to this track. And when they did they freaked, and said, 'This is a masterpiece. How much money, what do you want? What sort of a contract do you want?’ On the strength of that one song, we did a five-year deal with them for five albums and they paid us a serious amount of money.” Despite all this, Phonogram felt that it was not suitable for release as a single due to its length, and released “Life Is a Minestrone” as the first single instead. However, many influential figures in the music industry were demanding that “I’m Not in Love” be released as a single, and Mercury eventually bowed to the pressure. 10cc were forced to edit the track down to four minutes for radio play, but once it charted, pressure from the public and the media caused radio stations to revert to playing the full version.

81 notes · View notes

rusty-phasma · 2 years

Text

There's a New Moon Over my Shoulder (Brienne of Tarth x reader Coffeeshop AU)

A/N: This may be shitty, it has been a while since i redacted anything in english, or anything fictional, for that matter, but i love Brienne so much and wanted to write something sweet for her hehe, also i wanted to thank you all for 300 followers, this is unreal for me, thank you for reading and i hope you like this. I love you all <3 also the title's a song too, no relation to the drabble heh.

Warnings: none.

It was a normal day at the cozy coffee shop, the busy hours had come and gone and now there were a few patrons at the tables, some talking amongst themselves and others minding their own business, Brienne was definitely done with training the new barista, his name was Pod and he could be very clumsy sometimes, and if it wasn't for how kind he was to everyone, she would have snapped at him at least twice a day.

They worked at Kingslayer Cafe, The owner Jaime was Brienne's best friend, they had worked as baristas together for years, but Jaime’s father had passed, making it necessary for him to take over the family business; so he hired a few baristas, asking Brienne to train them, which she took as a honor. Yes, Pod was quite the handful, she was actually glad to have him around.

The sound of the bell from the door signaled that someone had come inside the cafe, and she stepped up to the bar, waiting for the person to come up to order. The woman that stood before her was beautiful, which almost distracted Brienne, almost “hello, welcome to Kingslayer Cafe, what can i get you?” She said with a polite smile and the woman looked up at her smiling kindly “umm a large latte and a croissant, please” she said with a soft voice and “sure,” she said “what name should i put in your cup?” She felt awkward and really had no idea as to why, Brienne was quite the introvert but if she avoided chitchat, was because she didn't enjoy it not because she felt intimidated (to be fair it was really hard to make Brienne feel intimidated), but right now, the woman she had in front definitely made her feel awkward, she didn't understand why though “(Y/N), please” Brienne wrote the name in the cup and looked back at her “would that be all, miss?” She said, trying to avoid eye contact by double checking the order on the screen “yes, that would be all, thank you…” she read the name badge on Brienne's apron “Brienne. Nice name by the way” she added, Brienne could feel herself blushing “thank you, miss, yours is uh, nice too” she said hoping to god that she wouldn't notice just how flustered she felt just at that, the woman giggled “just (y/n) is okay, how much would that be?”

She paid and Brienne started on her coffee, she wouldn't let Pod even come close to your order, she didn't want it to be messed up, for some reason. That was when she heard Pod’s voice “You know her?” He asked, Brienne turned to look at him quizzically and shook her head “huh, thought you did, you never chat with the customers, but you are even blushing” he paused and after a few seconds his eyes widened “you like her, don't you?” And Brienne almost choked on her breath “don't be ridiculous, of course not” she said sharply, he looked like he was trying hard not to laugh, and she kept working on the latte, finishing it and putting the lid on it, going to put the warm croissant on a paper bag.

While she did this she thought about it, she really wasn't good with emotions, it was really hard for her to even put a label on them, and she couldn't remember the last time she actually had a crush on anyone (choosing to ignore her very brief crush on Jaime for her mental health’s sake), but maybe Pod was right, he was better with this kind of thing too, so she sighed and approached the end of the bar, calling her name to give her the order.

This time as (y/n) approached her she looked a bit nervous, but before Brienne's mind could start overthinking it, she looked up at her and smiled that same kind and charming smile, and Brienne offered hera small smile back “here, your order miss” she said, the smile not really dropping. She took it but didn't go, which left Brienne a bit worried, was something wrong? And she guessed there was nothing else to do about it other than asking, “is something the matter, miss?” She asked no longer smiling, (y/n) smiled, pink tinting her cheeks in a way that made Brienne think of those angels that you see in paintings “i was umm” she sighed, unknowingly torturing Brienne, the more time she dealayed, the more time she gave her mind the opportunity to create the worst possible scenarios “i was wondering if you would like to, you know, get a coffee, heh, with me one day?” She looked at her own hands after asking, and for a second Brienne didn't understand, was she mocking her? She didn't seem like the kind to do that, but then again people kept disappointing her, she looked at Pod, who was watching intently and then turned back to you “y-yes, yes that would be nice” she said before biting the inside of her cheek, her answer made the other woman perk up, her smile returning to her face. From her pocket she fished a paper with a number scribbled on it “here, so we can, you know, set a day”, she took her coffee, her croissant and with a quick “goodbye then Brienne” and a bright smile, she was gone, leaving Brienne with a racing heart, sweaty palms, and a gentle smile.

Thank you for reading! 🧡

#brienne of tarth x reader #brienne x reader #game of thrones #fanfic #reader insert #brienne of tarth #coffee shop au

138 notes · View notes

clearcatastrophe · 8 months

Text

🎉30 YEARS OF ANIMANIACS!!!🎉

Imma be real, it’s been a hot minute since I’ve posted anything relating to these funky little puppy children, and even though I didn’t get to finish a celebratory artwork, I just wanna put this expression of gratitude here at the very least.

Several years ago in high school, my geography teacher was giving out our first in a series of quizzes. Obviously, it consisted of labeling things on a map. He told us that we could get out of the quiz, but we had to do a bit of extra credit. He pulled up Yakko’s World on YouTube and I thought to myself “what the heck is this? I never saw this on PBS Kids”. If we could recite it all, then we could be exempt a quiz. I went home and watched the video that night, over and over, trying as best I could to memorize as much of the video that I could stuff in my brain. Of course the next day when the quiz happened I only got from United States to Haiti, but it was still fun to hear that catchy song, and I was still plagued by curiosity. What show was this? ‘Animaniacs’? Who are the mice? (holy shit “who are the mice?” girlie you have absolutely NO idea)

A bit later the reboot comes out and it’s all a-buzz in the animation community. I decided to check it out; I like rubber hose. I heard from an artist I followed online I should watch the og first to get a feel for the series, and lord was I hooked.

I resonated with Yakko a crapton ((who doesn’t?)) and I kinda wished for me and my younger sibs’ relationship to be as fun and carefree and the Warner’s. The show drove me to learn more about animation and to draw more, and I deeply appreciated the voice acting, and learned more about that too. Heck, I rejoined Tumblr because of Animaniacs (Pinky and The Brain to be exact). And some of the first people I reached out to online were also fans of the show.

It’s sappy and silly, but I love how this show has shaped me, and if there comes a day I don’t remember any of it, I at least will always retain the happiness and feeling of pure joy Animaniacs has brought me.

And now I have at least one unimpressive party trick to pull from my hammerspace whenever the topic of geography comes up.

Have a zany 30, Animaniacs.

#animaniacs #patb #pinky and the brain #poodleponders

13 notes · View notes

tache-noire · 3 months

Text

20 Questions for Writers

tagged by: @dilf-in-peril HI THANK YOU

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

43!

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

84,772

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Pro wrestling, right now. AEW and probably ROH and WWE in the future.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

I'm going from #2 onwards because #1 is a collection of stories that i have since re-uploaded separately, and the original collection is now hidden and inaccessible.

Ass-Kisser (Max Caster/MJF sloppy rimming+fucking in a hallway)

A Day In The Life Of A Dog (Play-by-play of House Of Black's activities on a show day, centered around Brody)

Welcome To The Business (Christian Cage+Luchasaurus/Nick Wayne noncon)

Daddy's Boys (The Acclaimed celebrate a win by DP-ing Billy Gunn)

Give Me Your Violence (Eddie Kingston/Jon Moxley rough sex)

5. Do you respond to comments?

I try to reply to every one, even if it's just "thank you!" or "I'm glad you liked it!"

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

How It Begins. I wasn't PLANNING on exploring Luchasaurus' psyche, but it happened anyway.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

A Future With You is the sappiest thing i've ever written, by far. alpha4alpha husbands.....

8. Do you get hate on fics?

A looooooong time ago on a Dio Brando/Giorno Giovanna fic. I deleted it though.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

It's almost all i write. I tried to write actual plot once, but then i lost steam.

EDIT: I JUST REALIZED I SKIPPED PART 2 OF THE QUESTION

as for what kind i write, it's pure depraved kink, usually :) I have very few limits and they are eroding every day.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I've never actually written one, but I have some ideas rattling around in my head about a Hannibal/Crimes Of The Future crossover.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

A couple, yes. I don't remember which ones, though.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope!

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

I really don't know. I love any combination of Samoa Joe, CM Punk, and MJF, and any combination of Christian Cage, Nick Wayne, and Luchasaurus. And I like Eddie Kingston/Jon Moxley.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I'd really like to finish Tokeback Mountain someday, but for now it's labeled as discontinued. Evil Uno is surprisingly hard to write, and I'm eternally torn between including his shoot insecurities about his body and some mushy "noooo youre so sexy" shit, or keeping to kayfabe and having him be comfortable.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I've gotten a couple comments mentioning characterization, so I guess I'm good at that. I think I write dialogue fairly well, too.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Anything other than pure smut, i think. I have trouble putting breathing room between actions/scenes.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Ehhhh. If it's gonna be entire sentences, I just don't do it. A couple words, maybe, but if a character's entire dialogue would have to be translated, I just keep it in english, italicize it, and leave a note that explains it. Like if I'm gonna write a fic about the Lucha Brothers and it's just them talking to each other, i'm going to write it in English, even though it should be assumed that they're speaking Spanish.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Silent Hill 2. You can still find my first fic on fanfiction.net if you really dig for it and somehow know it when you read it. My writing style changed drastically over the last 2 years though!

20. Favorite fic you've written?

I'm torn between a couple. Right at this moment I'm gonna say Reversal, because it was a weird sort of breakthrough where I didn't just write a kink I've never written before and was even a little uncomfortable with, but I took it almost as far as I possibly could, and I ended up loving it.

tagging: TAGGING MAKES ME NERVOUS BECAUSE I AUTOMATICALLY ASSUME I'M ANNOYING. IF YOU WRITE AND YOU WANNA TALK ABOUT YOUR WRITING, PLEEEAAAAAASE DO

3 notes · View notes

master-k0hga · 2 months

Text

| A M É L I E |

[ Category: Zareans ]

| This is probably the proudest ref I've ever fucking drawn tbh... I had to re-draw this lovely gal cuz her current re-design was a little off to me, and drawing her bust was absolutely fun so yeah that's happening... Anyways this is Amélie, or "Beaut" which is her celebrity name cuz she is in fact, a celebrity..

Also this would've been at least a month or two since I finished this when I do the mass post some time later.. So even though I'm proud of this now, wonder if that'll hold up til a couple months later when I get to the post spam..

Anyways- Amélie is another one of those old OCs of mine who's gone through massive changes, especially from when she was a fan character of another fandom I was semi into a few years ago... This is her now and honest to god, she's absolutely beautiful and I swear if anybody dares gives this post shit. I will massacre everyone and laugh while I do.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

INFO

Name: Amélie Species: Zarean General Personality: Funny, outgoing, supportive, forgetful, self conscious, posh, vocally talented Height: 15ft Relationship Status: Single

Extra Info:

"Beaut the Beautiful" is her stage name she randomly made on a whim in a sudden panic for a 'label' one day, it's kind of just stuck with her since

She is known for a variety of skills and talents within the species; Singing, dancing, acting mainly in pantomimes, fashion model, online influencer, all sorts. And despite seemingly extroverted and overall social, she actually deals with a lot of social anxiety; So she has to do all sorts of breathing and mental exercises just to get out there

She came out trans to her family roughly when she was in her teens, although her family had somewhat mixed reactions, in the end they supported her and her goals. She was officially "herself" when she got famous

Growing up she starred and took part in many things; Talent shows, school plays, all kinds of after school activities and clubs along with other events and such town. So she really has quite the experience in a lot of fields, she worked hard to where she wanted to be

She actually worked retail and working part time in a library while she was juggling career driven events and such

She stylizes, sometimes even crafts her own outfits, wigs and occasionally even the events she hosts in like concerts and such. She also has a personal assistant who is totally not her best friend she met in college

She never acknowledges her dead name or anything with the only exception being her grandmother before she passed (Emile was her grandfather's name)

+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +

And that's it for her again, re-doing her ref was a good idea tbh because I'm really happy with how I drew Beaut here, definitely catches her type of likliness better than the previous "re-designs" I did of hers on separate occasions throughout the years I've been drawing and re-designing all my OCs... Would hope I keep at it for a long time but I feel that somehow isn't going to work forever.. I genuinely thought at one point that I'd get all my OCs fully re-done, sorted and all along with their worlds and whatnot then I can work with what I got there..

But I've noticed now that the whole of the Zarean species specifically, which I was working on off and on for like 9 or so years now, has to now be re-done completely cuz the lore was kinda all over the place without reasoning and that it just felt.. Wrong..

So yeah... I'll probably be dead by the time I actually finish any of this, I probably won't have started by the time I end up on my death bed tbh..

Especially when loads of my OCs haven't really been touched since like... Before I completely ditched DA a couple years ago.......... Oh well....-

#MASTER-K0HGA #Ary / Kohga Chronicles #Ary / Kohga OCs and Works #Beaut #Amélie #Female #Trans #M to F #Zarean #Zareans #Planet Zaria #Species #Personal Species Project #Fandomless #Original Character #OC #My OC #My Art #My Character #Re-post #My art re-posted #Yeah after I at least get most of my OCs specifically related to this species out the way then I'll start properly introducing them here to #Technically re-introducing them if I was still on DA since that's where I explained and talked about the majority of the lore there but it'#kinda gone now and don't really wanna use most of it since it's very outdated and very dumb... Like I'll re-read everything that I've got #and work with what can still be used so I'll work with that.. But the rest will obviously be scrapped entirely as it's not really useful no #needed much for these guys... A lot of it was very unimportant so yeah... And again yeah #This will be posted in like a month or two cuz I wanna get all this done for a mass post at some point since I won't really be online much #Fan art will be included with the bulk too even if it won't be much of it ofc.. So don't expect loads I expect my OCs to get the limelight #here....... Anyways...

2 notes · View notes

jimblejamblewritings · 2 years

Text

what we were, what we are | part 1.

Summary: The worst thing that ever happened to Y/N Lupin was getting sent to Azkaban for a crime she didn’t commit. The second worst thing was when she got out on parole and not because her name was cleared. Trying to get her life back proves difficult when everyone has moved on into the present while she only has memories of the past.

Warnings for the Series: angst, smut

Pairing: james potter x black!reader, james potter x lupin!reader, sirius black x black!reader, sirius black x lupin!reader

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: Uh, yeah, I still think tumblr fic is dying or no one’s paying attention to my work anymore which is why I haven’t finished the others but still this called to me so I’m writing it. I won’t tag my normal taglist unless y’all want it. Also I don’t know if it’ll be James or Sirius as the love interest yet.

(Series Masterlist)

The worst thing Dumbledore could have done was give a job to the three Marauders that were still alive, McGonagall was sure of it. James was the best Transfiguration assistant professor, Sirius was wonderful for Duelling Club and Muggle Studies, and Remus might have been the best Charms professor that she had ever seen. Of course, it was a shame that they had to switch him to Defense Against the Dark Arts. But after Quirrell and Lockhart, they needed more time to find a proper professor. If Lily wasn’t married to her job in the Ministry then maybe her husband and child could’ve persuaded her to take the teaching job for just a year or two.

The only thing worse than hiring three Marauders was hiring (Y/N) Lupin. Every member of staff, including her own brother, told Dumbledore such over the summer meeting before school’s start. Severus rolled up the sleeve of his black robe.

“I didn’t spy for you and let them brand me a Death Eater for you to invite her right in. You know this was her idea? She said so we wouldn’t be caught. These don’t fade easily,” he sneered.

“Are we supposed to forget she tried to have the Longbottoms killed? Frank and Alice barely escaped with their lives,” James spoke up. “How is she even getting out? She killed Wormtail and some muggles.”

Dumbledore let them continue protesting until they ran themselves out. Adjusting his spectacles, he looked at all of them.

“I do not know much of the details, only that the Ministry seems to have entered a plea deal of sorts with Mrs. Pott— Ms. Lupin,” he corrected himself after the look from James. “She can be watched at Hogwarts while carrying out whatever they need.”

No professor bothered arguing anymore. It was clear that this wasn’t Dumbledore’s choosing as he told them everything he knew. With the threat of Voldemort getting larger, it was necessary for the Ministry to step up the hunt. Auror Moody had suggested it. Letting (Y/N) Lupin out on probation as long as she helped them at least establish contact with Death Eaters and maybe even Voldemort.

Only a few years ago, you had been a spy with the Order. Fresh out of Hogwarts, you and the others were eager to join the fight against the Dark Lord. You were on their side… or that was what they thought. That was what you knew. You weren’t sure how you had been so stupid to not think Peter would have pulled a trick the minute you discovered his true intentions. But none of it mattered. You were still at the crime scene that night and he was gone. No one bothered to listen to your words. You were labeled a criminal, a follower of Voldemort, and whisked away to Azkaban.

Of course you had taken the plea deal when it was presented to you. You would have done anything to get out of Azkaban, fearing that a few more months and you’d go properly insane. It didn’t matter that you weren’t even sure how to get in contact with the Death Eaters that you had spent months pretending to be. Maybe one of them would get into contact with you? After all, you had never been found out.

You pulled down on the sleeve of your sweater to hide the Dark Mark that the Auror handing you back your wand was staring at with hatred. The wand was simply for show. They had put a charm on it so you couldn’t do most spells. Not that it mattered. You couldn’t do most spells anyway after being fed on by dementors almost every day since arriving in Azkaban.

“Try anything—”

“And you’ll send me back,” you cut him off. “I understand. You all have been threatening me with that for weeks now. Can we just go now?”

You wanted to get settled in at Hogwarts before the kids arrived. Nothing was lost on you. You knew that no one would be happy to see you. You weren’t even going to bother finding your brother or your husband.

At least they kept the ring, you thought as you fiddled with it while waiting for the Auror to come back in order to apparate to the school.

It had been Euphemia Potter’s. She figured when her only son was getting married that giving her future daughter-in-law her original engagement ring was only fitting. While you knew that no one would be happy to see you, there was a small part of you that hoped maybe you could get them all to listen to you. If you could just get someone to hear the truth then maybe they would give you a proper trial. Those hopes were immediately shattered when all the professors either walked by like they didn’t see you or cowered in fear.

You sighed as you sat at the end of the staff table. It only got worse when the students entered and Dumbledore announced what was happening. You wanted to correct every bit of what he said because it simply wasn’t true. Your heart sank when you watched the Marauders— your old friends— all reach for their wands when you stood from the table. They had nothing to be scared of. You were the traumatized one. You were the one riddled with nightmares and scared of your own shadow. They had nothing to fear. You addressed Dumbledore.

“I’m finished with dinner, is it alright if I leave? I’m not going anywhere but my room.”

“That’s fine.”

You went to leave before turning around again. “If none of the students arrive in my Study Hall, don’t punish them. It’s understandable if they want to skip.”

A boy ran past you, pushing up his large glasses as he did. “Dad, did Uncle Remus tell you about what happened on the train?”

You blinked in confusion between the boy and James. The resemblance was uncanny. And you were forced to face a thought that pained you whenever it popped into your head while in Azkaban. Of course he wasn’t your husband anymore. Why would he be? Still, judging by the boy’s age, James had moved on fast. You figured it must have been easy when you were branded a murderer. The divorce papers that you were never served probably got approved as soon as they saw your name on the form.

But he was one of the few bright thoughts that you had while in prison. And now that was gone. Without much thought, you wiggled the ring off your finger and set it down next to James’ hand. He barely looked at the thing, only picking it up when he recognized it as his mother’s ring.

“I thought you were going to your room.”

You jumped when you heard the deep voice. Relief settled over you when you noticed that it was just the Marauders. You had been headed to your room until you noticed that it was the full moon. The full moon was worth getting in trouble for not going straight to your room. That had always been something that plagued you while in Azkaban. You had spent every full moon worrying about your brother. You were the one that bandaged everyone up after they came back from the Shrieking Shack. Remus never allowed you to go with them even though you became an Animagus for that very reason. He had always been concerned about your safety around him.

While you were relieved, the Marauders couldn’t say the same thing. Remus’ Moony Nights had calmed down severely since being students once Severus learned how to brew wolfsbane potion for him but it still wasn’t easy. They all sat down at the island in the school’s kitchen with a lot of tension. You seemed busy as they watched you move around. When you turned to face them, they simply stared at the cups of hot chocolate. You grabbed the jar and moved around the island.

“Remmy, are you hurt anywhere els—”

Remus grabbed your wrist before you could dab the cream to the cut above his eyebrow. “I don’t need your help.”

You simply blinked at your older brother. “It’s just that it’s a Moony N—”

“You said you were going to your room. Already lying.”

Despite glaring at you the entire time, James’ face softened slightly when he noticed your eyes go wide and a slight tremor to your body. Quickly, you retreated to your room after a quick apology. The incident with the dementors and the Hogwarts Express had been your fault. You and Remus shared dna and that almost got him and some of the students severely hurt when they mistook him for you on that alone. You weren’t even sure if the men heard your apology with how fast you left the kitchen.

You didn’t want to be in trouble with the dementors on the first day of freedom. You were the reason they were patrolling school grounds in the first place. Everything you did was monitored. That thought didn’t escape you as you ate breakfast in your classroom.

Like you suspected, none of the students that had you as a professor for Study Hall showed up. You got plenty of letters from their parents and lots of mean-spirited messages from the students themselves. All three of your meals were eaten in your empty classroom. You were starting to wonder if the isolation of Hogwarts was any better than Azkaban. At least the food was better.

The commotion outside of your bedroom door woke you up. Your entire body felt heavy. You had just finished another bottle of Dreamless Sleep Draught. The nightmares were endless and the noise outside was cutting into the little bit of sleep time that you got. You groaned when it didn’t seem to die down. Eventually, you dragged yourself out of bed.

“You insolent litt—”

“Professor Snape,” you called out in a bit of confusion.

Severus and Harry froze up at the sight of you, even if you were in pajamas. You were too tired to even be bothered by their actions. You squinted slightly as the light from Snape’s wand shone in your face.

“Professor, what is happening?”

Severus snatched a large piece of parchment out of Harry’s hand. “Seems Mr. Potter has found an interesting artifact. Clearly dark magic. Why don’t you look since this is your area of expertise.”

Your nostrils flared slightly at the insult but you said nothing. You simply leaned over to look at what he was holding. The laughter that escaped your mouth was impossible to stop as you recognized the paper. The Marauders’ Map wouldn’t even exist if you hadn’t helped. Harry and Severus tensed at the laughter. It sounded like nails on a chalkboard. Severus remembered your laugh in your school days. It had always been soft and bubbly. It certainly wasn’t now. You took the map from him with a promise to check it out in case Harry did come across a dark artifact. After many moments of deliberation, Harry chose to go with you instead of Snape for his punishment for being out past curfew.

“How much trouble am I in, Professor?” he asked tentatively after you reached your classroom.

You shook your head. “If I got you in trouble for something James did every other night, I’d be a hypocrite. You know I can’t give this back to you though.”

Harry shrugged. “It doesn’t matter, I don’t think it works anyway.”

“Oh? Well, the magic of that map doesn’t lie… Harry, what is it?”

“It’s, um.” He picked at his clothes, regretting that he had opened his mouth. “The map showed a name but Peter Pettigrew is dead.”

“What?”

“It’s n-n-nothing. Goodnight, Professor.” Harry scrambled out the room as you began to open every single fold of the map.

The dark circles under your eyes were prominent as you ran into the Great Hall. With little care for their breakfast, you placed the map on the staff table in front of the Marauders. Your eyes practically sparkled as you pointed feverishly at the map. Before you could open your mouth, Severus glanced over.

“Is that the parchment you confiscated from Mr. Potter last night? Is it actually dark magic?”

“You were near my son?” James asked with great concern.

“I… the map,” you quickly redirected when you found that you didn’t have an answer that would appease him. “Just look please.”

The almost whimper in your tone immediately sent Remus into big brother mode whether he liked it or not. His gaze moved to where your finger kept stabbing at the paper.

“What are we looking at?”

Your eyebrows scrunched in confusion. You bent your head down, shaking it furiously.

“No, no, he was asleep a minute ago. I swear he was there, Peter wa—”

“Don’t you dare say his name,” Sirius cut you off.

Tears were welling in your eyes. The map, Harry’s discovery, was the one saving grace that you had. If you couldn’t find Peter then you were going to be a criminal for life. It didn’t matter if they let you stay out of Azkaban. You wanted to be rid of your nightmare once and for all.

“Peter was here, he was here,” you kept whispering.

You shook your head, scratching at your hair as you backed away from the table still whispering. The gossip already started as you exited the Great Hall in such distress. You kept going towards the school’s entrance, needing to be outside. You hadn’t been outside in so long. Up until now, you had just reserved yourself to staring outside your classroom windows at the scenery. But now you needed air. If you couldn’t find Peter then you had nothing. You stumbled backwards slightly when a large cloaked figure seemed to appear in front of you.

Panic set in. You must have stepped too far out of the bounds of the castle grounds. But you were still close to the door. You thought that you’d have more room to walk around. Maybe the dementors didn’t care. The mumbling about Peter turned to pleading with the dementor.

Like when you were in prison, the creature ignored you. Your scream was silent as the familiar freeze set into your body and the dementor sucked out another shred of happiness— the entire year of when you were eight was now officially gone from your memory.

James, more pissed than anything that you were near his son, couldn’t help but look down again. He knew your tells. Even before you were married, before you started dating in sixth year, he always noticed your tells. The scratching at your hair was only when you were under great stress. He let his eyes lazily scan over the map. Sirius and Remus looked at their friend when James abruptly stood up. The word Wormtail leaving his mouth made them look at the map. James was out of his seat and out of the Great Hall in a matter of seconds.

You always liked to sit on the pier at the lake whenever you were stressed. He froze in his tracks when he saw you kneeling in the grass. Throughout the whole war and the brief Auror career that he had, James Potter had never seen a dementor at work.

“Expecto Patronum!”

The dementor slowly backed away from your body that had now dropped into the grass.

“Shit,” James muttered under his breath as he scooped you up and carried you to the Hospital Wing.

(Part 2)

#sirius black x black!reader #sirius black x reader #james potter x reader #james potter x black!reader

100 notes · View notes