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romanarose · 2 months

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Hungry Hearts

Santiago Garcia x fem!reader x William Miller

Masterlist : Tripe Frontier Masterist

Summary: You and Santi invite Will into your marital bed.

Warnings: PIV sex, blowjobs, oral, anal, anal fingering, ass to mouth, dom!Santi dom!Will, double penetration, aftercare <3

A/N: This is a commission for my dear @charethcutestory02 !!! Im so sorry it took 5ever bc writers block! But theres 900 extra words bc I was possesed halfway through lmfaoooo.

A/N 2: Can take place in the Awakening Universe. This is TF orgy series with FIshBen, IronPope, and reader getting railed by all 4 guys. Can take place after Caffeine (the ironpope chapter). IM TRYING O GET THE LAST CHAPTER OUT OKAY ITS HARD WRITNG 5 BODIES AND THEY ARE ALL BISEXUAL

Everything was a blur at this point, nothing but pleasure between your legs.

Santiago and Will were knelt at the end of the bed, your legs spread and slung over either of their shoulders as they licked into you, tongues intertwining, sloppy and wet. The focus was on you, bringing you to orgasm again and again until you were sobbing, but the pair never missed an opportunity to kiss each other if they could help it. Right now, Will was sucking your pussy lips and clit, stimulating you while Santi tongue-fucked your asshole. Everything was building, on the verge of another orgasm, the third of the night so far just on their mouths and fingers.

“Wi- Will… WILL!” You entangle your fingers in his hair, tugging on the soft blonde tufts, pulling him closer into you as your orgasm crested, sweat prickling at your hairline as your breathing becomes ragged. Their mouths and fingers don’t stop, Santi’s digits squeeze deeply into the flesh of your thighs. It all stills over, cuming on their face and riding out your orgasm by bucking against them.

You let go of Will’s hair, falling back onto the bed with a final sigh, feeling blissed out, but as the orgasm faded away you rub your legs together.

You can hear Santiago chuckle. “I think your wife is still feeling awfully needy, Will…” He caresses your thigh, kissing your stomach as he makes his way around your body.

Santi appears from between your legs, popping his head up and over the bed with a big dopey smile on his face that glistened with your slick.

“Don’t I know it, little minx is just insatiable.” Santi kissed your puffy, wet pussy, making your sensitive body shudder. “That’s why you’re here, I can’t keep her satisfied all by myself.”

Well, that wasn’t true. You were constantly horny, but Santi did a great job of satisfying you. Will was here because you were a whore and Santi’s wanted to fuck his friend for 2 decades. Santiago wouldn’t be getting filled tonight, no, he just wanted to explore, and explore he is.

Will’s body laid sculpted next to you, built like a Greek god, beautiful and strong. He reminded you of Apollo. He pulled you close, kissing you tenderly as Santiago stood up, taking his cock in his fist tapping the tip of it on your clit.

“Keep kissing her, Will…” Santiago spoke, sliding the tip up and down your slick folds. “Keep touching my wife’s pretty body for me…”

You whimper into Will’s mouth, relishing his taste, his sweet kisses, his masculine presence. You could still taste your cum when you swiped over his lips.

Santiago was your husband, your rock, your best friend, your everything. Nothing could compare to what you felt for him, and the way he treated you was remarkable. Never in your life had you met someone who fucked you so thuroughly and held you so gently. He was dominant, but not in the way that he controlled you. Rather, it was how he controlled things for you.

Santi orders your food not because he was making choices on what or how much you should eat, but that he knew what you liked.

Santi holds the door, not because you can’t, but that he doesn’t want you to bother.

When Santi walks on a sidewalk with him, he doesn’t walk on the side closest to the road it’s not because he doesn’t think you can handle yourself, it’s because he values your safety above his.

And when he thrusts into you like he is now, when he slams his cock inside you for the first time today, when he pounds you relentlessly, hips slamming so hard you wake up bruised, it’s not because he’s angry or wants to hurt you. It’s because he knows you can take it. It’s because he knows you want it.

“S-Santi…” You pant, hand desperately trying to find purchase, stability, something to hold onto, landing on Will’s sticky back. As Santiago fucked you, Will sucked and pawed at your tits. Will was a tit man, through and through. Ever the giver, he played with your clit, rubbing you in time to Santiago’s tempo and making each thrust a burst of delight.

“Come for me, princess. Come on your handsome husband’s cock…” Will took a nipple in his mouth, sucking and swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud. Hol y fuck, his mouth.

“I– I dunno if I can …” you pant, breathless and sweaty. “I’ve cum so many times…”

“Aht, aht, aht,” Santiago slaps your thigh hard enough to make you yelp. “Little slut rubbing her legs together, begging to get fill, now she can’t take it? Mm mm mm… what are we gonna do with her, Will?” He muses.

Will let go of your breast, giving one more lick over the hardened peak. “I think, since she wants cock so much, we should give her more…”

“You want that, baby?” Santiago asks, a little bit mocking but also double checking if you were still okay being shared. “Wanna get your tight little holes stuffed?”

“Yes” You choke out a sob. “Yes, pleasepleaseplease-” You begging is cut off, Will grabbing your face and pulling you into a searing kiss.

“Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing, princess.”

Santi pulls out of you, and before you have a chance to say anything, Will’s strong arm wraps around you, pulling you with him as he rolls onto his back. Suddenly you were lying on top of Will's broad, firm body. He was all muscle, but to you it felt like home.

Will notched himself at your entrance, his cock thick and long and intimidating. “Take my cock, baby. You’re such a slut for it, you take it.”

Whimpering, tears of pleasure burning behind your eyes, you sink yourself down on him, the stretch incredible even after Santi. Apparently, you were taking too long. Santi kneels behind you, hands on your hips, pulling you down but still gentle.

“Theeeeere you go, pretty girl… Just like that… take his dick inside you… so good… so good.”

Will moans in your ear, echoing Santi. “So good…”

One of Santi’s hands moved from your hip to Will’s thigh, caressing the man, giving him a squeeze. “Take his dick, baby… there you go, oooh so good.”

With Will fully stuffed inside you, you didn’t think it was possible to feel more full, until Santi put two fingers inside your ass.

“Ooooh…” You sigh out, going nearly limp on Will’s body. Santi had scissored you open pretty well while he and Will were going down on you, and you knew he was going to put his dick in your ass but was just making sure you were open and wet enough with lube. Still, you were growing impatient. You needed to be fucked, now.

“Santi…” You cry. “Please, I can take it…” But Santiago gives you a light swat.

“Behave, baby.”

But you didn’t want to. You wanted to be fucked, you wanted to be filled, you wanted to be so full of dick you couldn’t see straight. You wanted to be ravaged until you passed out. So you begin moving your body up and down Will’s dick.

SMACK!

Santi’s hand cracks down on your ass, making you cry in pain.

Will clapped both of his hands over your ass, stinging even more. “I think he told you to behave, princess? Didn’t he?” His voice was low and deep in your ear, dripping like honey. “You need to behave.” Will grips your hips, keeping you still.

Leaning over, Santi licked a stripe from your pussy to your asshole. “I think she’s ready, Ironhead.”

You were, oh god you were… Santiago slides inside your asshole with ease, the lube and his thorough work opening you up making it not painful. It was, however, a stretch, stuffing you full of big cocks in both holes. All that existed was Santi or Will, nothing more, nothing less. Santi began slowly, groaning out loud as he fucked into your tight hole, stretching you over and over again as he folded over your body. You cling to Will for stability, Santi sandwiching you between your husband and your lover as they fucked inside you.

“So… fucking… tight…” Santi grunted in your ear between thrusts, his breath hot against your burning skin as he slap, slap, slapped his hips against yours. Will was slow and steady, a contrast to the quick and erratic of Santiago, a perfect semblance of their individual natures. Santi’s chest, bare and soft, pressed against your back, his face over your shoulder and kissing your cheek as Will explored your mouth. Lips and skin and mouths and spit blurred together, and Santi and Will’s mouths intertwined. For 20 years they longed for each other, desired each other's taste and feel but could never explore.

You were loved, you were adored, and you were in ecstasy watching your husband kiss his friend. Likewise, you’d secretly desired Will. Nothing could lessen your love for Santi, nothing in the entire world could do that, but Santi wasn’t the jealous sort. He liked having the hot wife. The sexual tension and desire between the three of you had been palpable, bursting in the bedroom together when it all culminated, unable to be held back anymore. There was no one Santi trusted with you more than Will, and no one you trusted more with Santi. His safety was your priority too.

“Santi… love you…” You whimper and whine, reaching back to find his hand. He gave you a squeeze, reassuring you.

“Such a good girl, bebita…” Santi licks a strip up your neck.

Will locks eyes with Santiago, reaching up to grab his face and turn him to himself. “Can you feel me, Pope?” Will thrusts with extra power to deliver his point home. “Can you feel my cock stretching your wife open?” Only a thin layer of skin separated them, and they could feel each other move inside you. You shutter at the thought, the idea that their cocks were stimulating each other they did you.

Santi kisses your sweaty face, gently rubbing your shoulder so you never feel forgotten. His quiet reassurance as he spoke to his captain.

“I can feel every goddamn vein in your dick” Thrust. “I can feel every time your cock kisses her womb” Thrust. “And I can fucking smell ho wet this sweet little whore is for us.”

Will moans into Santi’s mouth, and you can feel him throb inside you and fuck, you’re just about ready to cum when-

“Up.” Will smacks Santi’s ass and yours, making both of you roll off him. Santi never lets up touching you, his hands groping your tits, stomach, ass, thighs, all while his hungry fights to have any part of you inside it. Will chuckles at the sight. “Seems like your husband has a bit of an oral fixation” Did he ever. “I think we can help that. You ready to listen, princess?”

You were, for Will, you’d be so good, so fucking good. “Y-yeah, I will-”

Kneeling at the bed, he stroked his cock, slow and tantalizing. “Say, ‘yes captain’”

As Santi suckles on your breast, rubbing circles around your clit, you watch Will jack off, powerful and imposing before you. Your eyes roll back into your head, cumming hard, your cunt pulsing around nothing but the ghost of dicks past. You moan your reply, “Yes… captain…”

When you come down from your high, you’re manhandled into place, Santi moving you per Will’s instructions towards the edge on the bed, on your stomach. Santi re-entered you from behind, his warm body covering you when you shiver. Will stood in front of you both touching himself. He was incredible to look at, both you and Santi’s eyes on him despite Santi’s mouth on your neck.

6’2, firm, toned muscles but nothing outrageous. Blue eyes that were out of this world, bluer than the ocean and short, golden hair. His physical appearance was one thing, his kind hearted and caring nature was another, but christ, it’s the way he carried himself. Confident, self-assured, put together, pride in his appearance, his job, his service. Will didn’t stutter or second guess himself, he didn’t feel the need to put anyone down or own a giant, jacked-up, loud ass pick-up truck to make a point. Will was the first of the 5 of them to seek therapy after an ill-fated grocery store trip lead to his fiance walking out. He recognized he was in the wrong and got help, never wanting to put another woman he loved in the situation of having to jump on his back to stop him from killing someone. He was a better man for it, well-adjusted. His patience, his confidence, his big heart and bigger dick made him an excellent lover.

The fact he was hot as hell was a bonus.

Will fucked your mouth, careful not to hurt you but knowing what you can take, he claimed you while Santi fucked fuck behind. This position had Santi getting so fucking deep in your cunt, you didn’t know which way was up. Will caught Santi staring.

“You want a turn, Pope?”

“Fuck yes”

It was difficult from your angle to watch what was happening but there was no way you were missing this, so you strained your neck. Santiago took him like a gay pornstar, Will’s cock sliding down his throat like it was nothing at all. He looked magnificent. Santi next stopped fucking your, throating Will’s throbbing member like he was made for it. Occasionally he gagged, the sound making your pussy clench around him. When he realized how much you like the sound, he didn’t hold back, gagging and moaning and drooling until his spit was dripping onto you.

Will pulled out and thrust back into you, grabbing you hair and fucking your throat like a pussy.

“Fuck yeah, princess, choke on my cock, bet your husband can feel every time you gag.”

Santi confirmed this. “Little pussy clamps down so hard.”

Will alternated between yours and Santi’s mouths. When it was you, he throat fucked you, Santi liking to wrap a hand around your throat, squeezing lightly. It was dominance, it was power, it was showing your place. Your place was being loved by them. When he slid inside Santi, there was the clear reality that yes, Will was in charge, but it was far more mutual. Two men who had saved each other’s lives countless times now bringing each other sexual pleasure, now pleasuring a beautiful woman. It was how it was always meant to be.

Santi is almost there, you can always tell, his heavy balls slapping against you drawing up, his thrusts more erratic and unmeasured. You were going to cum too, and you wanted Will to cum with you both. You wanted it all together.

So when Will left your mouth with a ‘pop’ and fucked into Santi, you twist yourself around to suck his balls. Santi takes the lead on sucking dick so Will didn’t have to move, making it easier for you.

“Oh fuck yeah, princess…. FUCK! You both feel so goddamn good, SHIT!” He bellows about you, Santi’s cock fucking deep inside your body. “Suck my fucking cock and balls, yeah, just like that, gonna cum, gonna fuck’n come in your mouth Santi. You want that? You wanna go run to Frankie and tell him how you swallowed my cum while you filled up your wife?”

Santi nodded, both him and you delirious at the nearing orgasm. He squeezed your throat, fucking you harder and hard as your combined spit droolled all over your wet faces. You cum one final orgasm, mouth letting god of Will’s pulsing balls as he cums in Santi’s throat, collapsing weakly onto the bed. Will growls with his release, fucking him cum into Santi as he sputtering, coughing up the salty white as Will praises you both. Santi cums last, a loud moan filling the now quieting room, wailing out his final release and pounding into you, pressing your face down into the bed. Santi’s last sounds almost echo in the room, hanging there as you lay exhausted on the bed. Fuck, you were satisfied.

Santi’s weight was heavy on you like a weighted blanket, and you grumbled when he got off with a content sigh, falling on his back laughing. It was always a stellar fuck if Santi was laughing.

You mumble something, but don’t even make a real attempt at a request. You’re too tired to even move your dry, stretched lips.

“What’s that, princess?” Will asks, brushing hair out of your face.

Thankfully, Santi responds for you. “The vaseline on the bedside table. Her lips get dry.”

“Ah.” Will grabs up, rubbing a generous amount of your lips as Santi gets up. They both clean you up and help dress your limp body on warm pjs. You have Santi lay down on his stomach, and ask Will to please rub the magnesium oil on his neck and upper back where his spinal scar is. Santi sometimes gets sore after very enthusiastic sessions, while you lay beside your husband, cuddling him. You pull Will in between you both and scratch and massage his scalp, Santi thanking him for helping make this happen.

You all take care of each other.

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

guys im starting to phasing out my taglist soon! if youre a regular reblogger/commenter but its hard to tag like 30 people but most dont interact which is totally okay! but follow @romana-updates

Love you all so much!!! Im on a largly a hiatus until schools over. Im working on rooms on fire and if you wanna be wild as well as a few small projects with friends but for now thats about it! lots of papers to write. Might have a few one shots out here and there

hugs and kisses to all!

tagging a few people who might be interested in some ironpope lov'n so if you arent, dont worry about it <3

@fandxmslxt69 @runa-falls @campingwiththecharmings @whatthefishh @k-ra @ivystoryweaver @steven-grants-world @ahookedheroespureheart @littlenosoul @mikaelak @stevenandmarcslove @scarletthefierce @pikapuff-316 @del-ightfulling @missdictatorme @faretheeoscar @boysddontcry @harriedandharassed @pedge-page @vickie5446 @readingiskeepingmegoing @survivingandenduring @miraclesabound @reggiesfilthylittlesecret @velocibee @writefightandflightclub @for-a-longlongtime @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

#triple frontier #santiago garcia #william miller #santiago garcia x reader #fem reader #william miller x reader #will miller x reader #ironpope #santiago pope garcia #william ironhead miller #santiago garcia smut #will miller smut #william miller smut #triple frontier smut #ironpope smut

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untilwedont · 11 months

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Jealous Boy

But I can't help it

RQ: Vinnie Hacker x male reader pls!!! Angst to fluff like y/n gets jealous of a girl who is flirting with Vinnie and Vinnie flirts back leading to an very heated argument where Vinnie says something he regrets and tries to make it up to y/n

Warnings; alcohol, mentions of cheating.

to be quite honest, you’d say you were one of the luckiest people to live on earth. I mean.. one of the finest people on earth— a man that everyone would literally kill to just get a smile from, chose to date you.

by man I mean Vinnie Hacker. Every girl thirsted over the guy, and it shocked the public when he openly came out as bisexual and revealed to be in a relationship with you.

but.. dating a fine ass man comes with it’s downsides. A lot of girls, as soon as they laid eyes on Vinnie, tried to come up to him and flirt, doing anything to try and get your boyfriend turned on.

Luckily you dated a loyal man and he’d always push them off, telling them he was already in a relationship— but that changed.

You guys decided to hit the bar, take a few shots, call a taxi home, and maybe have drunk sex?? Well— that was the original plan at least.

“can I get another shot, please?” You asked the bartender, handing them the empty shot glass. They nodded, grabbing your shot glass and taking it away.

You were only two shots in, and hadn’t felt anything happening to your body. You weren’t one to get drunk easily, unlike Vinnie.

By two shots in, he’d already been tipsy, slightly slurring his words when he talked to you. “S’hey, ‘nother shot..” He asked the bartender, giving them the glass and rubbing his eyes.

“You good, vin?” You ask, noticing his slured words becoming more frequent, signaling he was becoming more under the influence.

“hm? oooh~ yeah, for sure!” He said, smiling at you drunkly. You nodded, watching as the bartender gave him another shot of strong alcohol. You decided you were done drinking for the night, wanting to at least be the more sober one.

You left to take a quick bathroom break. When you came back, you expected to see nothing less but you’re drunk boyfriend alone. But, when you returned, you saw a girl talking to vinnie.

Except, it was different this time. He wasn’t pushing the girl away like he usually would. No, he was talking to her. Not in a regular way, but with a more flirty tone.. Like he was enjoying her. Her looks, body, voice, everything.

A sense of jealousy instantly rushed through your body, overflowing your mind with hateful thoughts. But, you tried calming yourself down, thinking it was the alcohol overflowing vinnies mind. Yet, there was something in you that wanted to snoop in on the conversation.

The distant voices of both of them slowly became louder as you got closer. “So, what brings you here tonight?” She asked, slightly biting her lip while trailing a finger down vinnie’s shoulder.

It was obvious about what she wanted. “S’m just here hiccup to have s’me fun..!” He smiled at her, unaware of her wants. “What’s a fine lady like you doin’ here?” Your fists clenched as your jealousy began to overflow you once more. Was he really about to cheat on you, or was it just the alcohol?

“Just.. lookin’ for some fun~” She smiled, placing her hand on Vinnie’s thigh. Vinnie smiled back. “You got a girlfriend?” But, before he could respond to her question, you quickly interrupted the conversation.

“Actually, he has a boyfriend. So you can.. run off now.” You gave her a smile as you shooed her away. Her face turned to disbelief and she walked off. “Oh, hey baby~” vinnie spoke from behind you.

“Don’t fucking baby me, we’re going home.” You grabbed his hand, gripping it sternly, forcing him out of his seat. “Heyy, what’sth big hol’ up?” He asked, his hand still in yours. You didn’t respond, only quickly calling an uber to pick you up. (don’t drink and drive)

You ignored all his little complaints about leaving so early until the taxi finally arrived. You both got in and the whole car ride was silent, the only words being spoken were when you told the uber your address.

When you arrived home, you got out the uber, not bothering to wait or help vinnie get out. He quickly followed behind as you opened the front door, “Hey, what’s going on with you?” He asked as he ran up behind you. “I’d rather talk to you when you aren’t drunk.” You mumbled as you walked through the front door.

“Baby-..” He went to speak again but you quickly cut him off. “I told you to not baby me.” He tossed his hands in the air from confusion. He wasn’t sure what he did wrong. “Just.. just don’t speak to me until you’re sobered up.” You spoke, this time more calm.

He was confused but didn’t complain any longer. The next day rolled around and Vinnie awoke to an empty bed. He was definitely sober now, but needed to suffer the consequences of a hangover. He walked out of the room to find you in the kitchen. He wondered what time it was since he saw you already showered and ready for the day.

He walked up behind you to wrap his arms around your waist and rest his chin on your head. But, you quickly pushed him away. “What’s wrong?” He asked, scratching his head. “So you don’t remember what happened last night?” You calmly asked, not bothering to turn around and face him

“Uhm… I mean not really.. why, did I do something wrong?” He questioned. You felt your hands curl up into a fist as you sighed. “A girl… she came up to you while I was gone,” you finally turned around, “she flirted with you, but you didn’t push her away. No, instead.. instead you flirted back. The way you eyed her.. the way you-..” you took a deep sigh, “The way you let her touch you… and you just sat there…”

Your head hanged low, staring at the ground as you bit your lip. “Baby- I..” He let out a nervous laugh, “I was drunk last night.. you know that.” He tried placing a hand on your shoulder but you quickly took his hand off. “Oh, but you remembered to call me ‘baby’ after you called her a ‘fine fucking lady’ a few fucking seconds ago?!”

You felt tears forming as you stared at him. “Are you- are you accusing me of cheating on you?” He asked, looking at you in disbelief. You scoffed, “I don’t know, Vinnie. Would you? What if I hadn’t stopped the conversation, vinnie? What if I watched as you told her you were single? What if I watched her fucking kiss your lips?! What if-..” Your voice got louder with every ‘what if’, but vinnie cut you off from your ramble.

“Okay, M/N stop!” He yelled. “Do you hear yourself right now?! Why the hell would I ever cheat on you?!” His voice had a sense of nervousness in it as he continued to yell.

“Well im sure you were fucking thinking about it when you eyed her tits!” You yelled back and vinnie scoffed. “Okay, fine! So what if I hookup with a girl?! it’s not like you show me any action anyways!” He yelled, not aware of the words that just came out of his mouth.

You stared at him in disbelief, a tear slipping down your cheek. “Did you-… did you just admit to thinking about cheating on me..?” You spoke lowly, your anger quickly disappearing. Vinnie’s eyes widened as he realized his mistake. The words that just came out of his mouth.

“W-wait..! no, no, no, that’s- that’s not want I meant!” His yelling quickly turned into regret as he tried to come up to you and hug you. “Don’t fucking touch me.” You harshly whispered, pushing him away as you went to leave the house. “N-no, baby wait!” He tried stopping you from leaving but you were already walking out the door.

You left the house. You weren’t sure where you were going, you just drove. Drove until you couldn’t drive any longer. Vinnie on the other hand cried his heart out, sitting on the kitchen floor as he knew he just ruined your guys’ relationship.

But, after sometime of crying, he had a sudden idea to fix things with you.. or at least try. He wasn’t sure how long you’d be out so he thought he’d start his idea right away.

The sunset became more visible as you continued to drive. You weren’t sure what time you left the house and you weren’t sure what the current time was. You silenced your phone after the constant calls from vinnie. The radio wasn’t on, you left it off just so you could hear your own thoughts.

You knew you had to come back home at some point.. you had nowhere else to stay. So, you eventually returned home. You walked up to the front door and hesitantly turned the lock. You silently walked in, looking around and noticing that it was silent.

You suddenly noticed red shaped petals on the ground that lead upstairs. You followed the petals that continued inside the bedroom. You opened the door, peaking your head inside. There was a sealed cake on the bed that spelled ‘I’m sorry :(.’ Three nicely wrapped gifts sat behind the cake.

There was a sealed envelope that rested on top of the sealed cake that had your name written on the back. “Vinnie?” You spoke softly as you walked towards the cake. You grabbed the envelope,

“M/N im sorry about what I said earlier today. I promise you that i’d NEVER cheat on you. You mean the world to me and the thought of you feeling hurt because of me makes me so angry with myself. I know this may not be a lot but I promise with everything I will continue to try and make it up to you. I love you so much M/N you don’t even know it.

Love,

Vinnies.

Your heart began to hurt once more as you read the letter and your lip slightly quivered. You opened the three gifts. Inside were many of your favorite things, ranging from clothes, to accessories, etc.

You smiled at his thoughtfulness. Maybe you’ll give him a second chance.

A/N; ENDING HERE THIS SHIT IS TOO LONG

#male reader #gay #malereader #vinnie hacker x male reader #vinnie hacker #vinnie hacker imagines #vinnie hacker imagine #vinnie hacker x reader #malereaderimagine #malereaderinsert #angst

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a-yellow-van · 18 days

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Wish You Were Here | Part 1

We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year. Running over the same old ground, what have we found? The same old fears. Wish you were here.

20 years after the outbreak, you’re a stable, well established member in the community of Jackson, Wyoming. You have been for a long time now, the horrors, the brutality of survival buried deep inside, leaving place to the safe simplicity of routine. You didn’t think there’s anything that could disturb that, after all you’ve been through. That is, until you meet Joel Miller, and a drunken choice leads to…much more. Set in between Part I and Part II. Canon compliant (I'm breaking my own heart)

Series masterlist

Pairing: Joel x f!reader

Fanfic tags : canon compliant, slow burn, romance, eventual smut, angst, hurt/comfort, joel and the reader are terrible at feelings, female reader, no use of y/n, reader is in early 30s, past relationships, trauma/PTSD, grief, loss, post-apocalypse, joel is a good parent to ellie, major character death, original characters, queer characters, bisexual main character, age difference, canon-typical violence

WC for Part 1 : 4.5 k

Warnings for Part 1 : drinking, swearing, implied sexual content

New Year’s Eve 2034. Jackson’s tavern is packed to the brim, people in every corner of the room, almost shoulder to shoulder. It’s hot and humid inside; layers have been shed, revealing patches of sticky skin. A musky, sickly sweet smell assaults your nose : a mix of sweat, booze and dust, making you nostalgic for a time you never knew, before the world fell apart. The windows are fogged up, blocking out the view of snow falling peacefully, coating the street. You’ve rarely seen anything like it. Nearly every adult survivor in the community has seemingly decided to come out tonight, and the fact that Eugene has finally dipped into his batch of mead, home brewed by the barrel, is most certainly to blame. Maria, Jackson’s leader, doesn’t exactly approve, but she’s making an exception. Just for the holiday. You spot her at the back; she’s holding hands with Tommy, her husband, protectively watching over the crowd. Eugene’s feeling particularly generous this evening; he offers a hefty bottle to whoever asks, reminding each lucky recipient to “savour ‘cause she’s been fermenting since July!” You must have heard that sentence a good twenty five times since you got your own bottle, the words getting progressively less intelligible as Eugene indulges in his creation. You’re still not certain why he refers to his mead like it is a woman, and frankly, you’re afraid to find out. One thing’s for sure, the beverage is incredibly strong, has a horrid taste, burning your throat like acid with every drop. It’s questionably safe for consumption, but the occasions to get shitfaced in the midst of an apocalypse are quite limited, so you endure. Even Jackson’s most reclusive members agree with that notion. Including him. Joel Miller. He’s nursing a drink at a table near the bar, opposite to the one you’re sharing with your usual group. You wouldn’t exactly call them friends, but they’re fellow patrollers, close to you in age, so, naturally, you’ve grown familiar.

“What are you looking at?” Max, the one you’ve known the longest, nudges you with their elbow.

Your gaze quickly snaps back to meet theirs. You realise you’ve been staring at the older man. Noticeably. You don’t quite know why. Maybe he intrigues you, all quiet and pensive in the middle of a rowdy celebration. His expression is hard to read, but there’s a hint of…sadness? You get a hold of yourself and brush off the thought.

“Nothing,” you lie. Max cocks an eyebrow, a little grin forms on their lips, freckled cheeks dimple.

“Uh-huh.” There’s a glint of malice in their green eyes. “You sure? No one particular caught your attention?”

You don’t let their teasing get to you. “Nah. Just checking at Seth trying to hit on Leanne,” you reply without missing a beat, “for the millionth time.” This one isn’t a lie, as the scene really is unfolding a few metres away. You blink at Max, feigning innocence. They narrow their eyes, not buying it.

“Man, when is he gonna get the hint?” Fred chips in, breaking the unspoken exchange between you and Max. She quickly peeks in the direction of the duo, a muscly arm propped on the back of her chair, long cornrows draped across the other shoulder. She scoffs, and takes a swig of her drink. “She looks like she’s seconds away from kicking him in the balls.”

“Don’t know how she hasn’t done that, like, years ago.” It’s Astrid’s turn to talk. She sighs, shaking her head, her wavy golden blonde hair rustling with the movement.

“Maybe you should go beat him up for her, A,” Fred jokingly suggests. “Bet she’d like that.”

“Don’t give me ideas,” Astrid responds, seriously. “I’d have him in a wheelchair for the rest of his days.”

“Oh, yeah. And then you and Leanne would run off into the sunset,” Max adds, taking their attention off you, finally. They start screeching in a horrible, high-pitched voice. “Oh, Astrid! Oh, thank you! You saved me from the big, bad man! I lo-”

“Shut the fuck up.” Astrid cuts them off, cheeks reddening.

“Hmm. I think they hit a little nerve there, A,” Fred continues, laughing, moving her arm to playfully put it around a flustered Astrid. She’s too easy, you think. It’s pretty endearing.

“Who are you kidding,” you join in Astrid’s torment. “You can’t even say hi to Leanne without stuttering.” The woman gets even redder, the angry tint reaching her pale neck. Fred and Max giggle. “You’re such a teenager,” Max strikes.

“Just fucking drink.” Astrid commands the three of you, pouring the group another round.

“Fair enough,” Max says, before clinking glasses with Fred in front of them. Astrid finishes hers in one gulp, which makes her cough, while you sip slowly. The buzz is setting in. It’s nice. It eases the burden on your aching shoulders.

You let your companions carry the conversation as the night progresses, occasionally humming or laughing at a remark. You’re not exactly concentrating. You keep getting drawn back to Joel Miller, for some reason. He arrived in Jackson last summer, about six months ago. Him and a kid, a girl, around fourteen or fifteen. You assumed that was his daughter, but soon learned that you were wrong. People talk, especially in such a small community. Something about Joel smuggling her across the country for the fireflies? A failed operation, clearly. You heard the organisation disbanded since then. It was about time. You’re surprised they lasted that long in the first place. He’s Tommy’s older brother. There’s history there, you know some of it; Joel already had a bit of a reputation before ever passing through Jackson’s gates. He hasn’t done much to help it since then; he barely interacts with anyone besides Tommy and Ellie, the girl. He keeps to himself, brooding, silently observing, tough, cold, detached. That’s how Joel’s treated you on the few patrols you’ve had to go on together these past months. He usually works with Tommy, you usually work with Max, but Maria likes to switch around the schedule occasionally to test out different pairings. You and Joel have done a very efficient job, only speaking when absolutely necessary, technical terms only, mumbling salutations. However, on the last patrol, in early December, you made a great shot at a stalker, and you could have sworn Joel’s mouth twitched in approval. It was so short it might have been a product of your imagination, but then, after coming back to Jackson and bringing your horses to the stable, he mumbled your last name instead of his usual grunt goodbye. It’s fair to assume there’s mutual respect for each other’s skill there. Nothing else. So then, why does your gaze keep returning to his tousled, greying curls, scruffy beard, piercing brown eyes, and the scar on his left temple? Maybe it’s the alcohol. Yeah, that must be it-

Joel’s eyes suddenly lock with yours. Your heart skips a beat, making you choke on your drink. Shit. What the hell was that? Fred immediately interrupts the story she’s telling and you feel three pairs of eyes on you. You clear your throat, looking down at the table.

“Sorry. Went down the wrong pipe,” you mutter. They keep staring. “Uh, Fred, what were you-”

And then, as if the universe takes pity on you, Mike, Jackson’s butcher, jovial fellow in his early sixties (but barely a wrinkle creasing his dark skin) claps loudly and calls out over the incessant chatter.

“How about some music, huh?” A few supporters acclaim him. He pushes through the crowd, reaching the old console piano standing at the south wall, underneath a window. Around, some tables have been stored away, allowing some space for dancing. The instrument is in poor shape, the keys are yellowed, a pedal has fallen off. Mike sits on the worn piano bench. Most survivors in the tavern have momentarily lowered their volume, following the man’s moves. He tries a little riff. Not as bad as was expected, just slightly off tune. You know he’ll make it work. “Alright. Get ready to groove, everyone!” He plays the intro to Johnny B. Goode by Chuck Berry perfectly, earning cheers and applause. Chair legs scrape on the ground, glasses and bottles are snatched up as the crowd converge around Mike.

“Woo! Come on!” Fred exclaims. She stands and takes Astrid’s arm, forcing her patrol partner up. Astrid resists, but just for the principle, a beaming smile on her face. The pair leaves, already bobbing their heads to the rhythm. Max takes another shot before shuffling away from the table on legs rendered wobbly by the booze. They hold their hand out to you, but you don’t take it yet. You dare look over at a certain someone again, who is grounded in his seat, indifferent to the change of mood. Max wiggles their fingers impatiently.

“I’ll, uh- I’ll join you later,” you say, averting their eyes.

“Ugh. Fine. You suck,” they reply.

You raise your middle finger in response. They turn away abruptly, flashing the back of their frayed jean vest, the sleeves cut off by hand. Max catches up with Astrid and Joey, and you watch as they start dancing, snorting at how uncoordinated the three are. You’ve downed a good five drinks now. One more won’t do any harm, right? You fill up your glass with the last drops of mead from the current bottle. Warmth spreads through your veins, making your head throb in a pleasant way. Your eyelids are heavy, your surroundings blurred. Something is clear, though. You and Joel are amongst the very few survivors that aren’t taking part in the fun. Hell, even Maria’s letting her husband spin her around.

And then it happens again. Joel meets your gaze. But this time, he holds it for a couple of seconds, before looking to the side and rubbing his chin. Almost like he’s doing it on purpose. You must be drunker than you thought, because that makes no fucking sense. And what your clouded brain makes you do next is even less logical. Slowly, you rise, and walk unsteadily to the now deserted bar, heading towards Joel. Your heart picks up its pace. This is so stupid . You sit down at one of the stools, just a few feet away from him. You lean over the counter, resting your head in your hand, staring straight ahead at the row of vintage bottles aligned on a shelf behind the bar. On the piano, Mike has moved on to I’m Still Standing by Elton John, his voice strong, smooth. You catch a glimpse of Joel in your peripheral. He’s tensed up ever so slightly, his back straightened. He’s aware of your presence. This is so stupid.

“Hey, Miller,” you hear yourself speak, still looking ahead, but loud enough he can hear you.

He sighs. That’s something. He hasn’t gotten up and walked away, he hasn’t told you to get lost. He’s acknowledged you. It’s full of irritation, sure, but it gives you enough motivation to keep going.

“Not a fan of the music?” You attempt a sultry tone and make yourself cringe. Great start. Joel grunts, takes a swig of mead and crosses a leg over the other, nonchalant.

“Yeah, I didn’t exactly peg this as your scene,” you continue, gesturing vaguely at the crowd. The booze has taken the reins, and you can’t hold your tongue.

A full minute passes in silence. You’re about to give up. And then Joel talks, gruff, sarcastic, the inebriation accentuating the southern drawl in his voice. “Right. And like you’d know, of all people.”

A sentence. Joel Miller just spoke a full sentence to you. You’re stunned.

“Fair point,” you recover after a few seconds. “You just, uh, don’t really seem like the social type.” A pause. You feel Joel’s gaze burning the back of your neck. “No offence,” you add.

“None taken.” Joel downs the rest of his drink, exhales. “You’re not dancin’ either,” he observes.

“Perceptive,” you retort. You spin on your stool, now facing him. A corner of his mouth curves upwards almost imperceptibly. It goes back down immediately, but you caught it. And it gives you a boost of confidence. You’ve made the grumpy bastard smile, or, well, the closest to it he can probably manage.

“Why not?” he questions. “Your friends looks like they’re havin’ fun.” He nods his chin over at Max, who’s gone up to the piano and is belting the lyrics to the song, stomping their feet, while Mike plays the melody. Two things : first, Joel knows who you hang out with, which means he’s not completely oblivious to who you are, and second, he’s making conversation with you. Astonishing.

“Guess I’d rather be bothering you.” You shrug, trying to suppress a smile. “Thought you’d have cursed me out by now, if I’m honest.”

Joel scratches his forehead. “Dunno why I haven’t,” he mumbles.

“Maybe you should.” Did you really just say that? Did you just try to flirt with him? And why did his gaze flicker to your lips?

He looks back up and narrows his eyes at you. “Nah. You don’t want that.”

You don’t miss a beat. “Hey, I could take it.” You’re maintaining eye contact from your seat at the bar. “I’m tough.” Well, this is happening. Damn Eugene and his mead .

The ever-so-subtle smirk passes over Joel’s face for the second time. He shakes his head. “Don’t wanna make you cry.”

“Hm. How considerate,” you reply, unable to fight a little smile. Joel emits a short, low, rumbling sound.

“Was that a laugh?” You ask, the smile growing larger.

“Hm. No.” He goes right back to irritation. But still, he’s not pushing you away. So, in your drunken state, you decide to test the limits. You slip off the stool and take a step towards Joel. He furrows his brows, but doesn’t say anything. You take another step, and then another, until you reach his table. There’s no going back now.

“Uhm, mind- mind if I sit?”

“Are you really gonna leave if I say no?” He asks, rhetorically. He’s challenging you. You feel your cheeks heat up and your stomach drop. You pull the chair out and settle on it. You’re suddenly very conscious of your near proximity to Joel. The courage you had mere minutes ago is disappearing; you have to fuel it up. You grab an empty, upside-down glass sitting near two bottles of mead, one empty, one half full. Joel is acting quite coherent for a man who’s had that much. You tilt your head in request.

Joel scoffs. “Go ahead.”

You pour yourself a seventh drink, knowing perfectly well that it is an absolutely terrible idea. You down most of it in one gulp, wincing, before putting the glass back down with a thud.

“Something wrong, sweetheart?” Joel asks, the nickname dripping with irony. Still, your stomach does another flip. “Can’t hold your liquor?” He mocks. He leans back in his chair, legs open, right hand on his knee, left hand palm down on the table. Your gaze travels from his face, down his neck, to his broad chest where the small unbuttoned portion of his flannel reveals a few dark hairs. What the hell are you doing? Your eyes snap back up

“Fuck off,” you mutter under your breath. Joel looks pleased with himself. You finish your drink, looking straight at him, taunting.

“What was that?” he asks, even though he heard you perfectly. His smug smirk is assured now. You don’t answer. Joel fills up his glass. You take it as a sign that he intends to see this interaction through. Fine by you. You search the depths of your sluggish brain to find something witty to say.

“So, Miller. What’s with the accent?” This is the best you can come up with. The words are slurred.

He scoffs again. “Don’t know what you’re talking ‘bout,” he says, pointedly adding your last name. He’s playing you.

“Ah, come on, cowboy ” you continue, impressed by your own audacity, “Where you from?”

Tommy has mentioned this to you before. Definitely somewhere south, but you can’t recall in your current state. And you want to hear Joel say it.

He rolls his eyes at the nickname, but he doesn’t stop smirking. “Texas. Austin.” He takes a sip. “You?”

Texas. Right. Makes sense. In a way, you feel proud to have gotten this minimal piece of information out of him. You didn’t think you’d ever witness Joel Miller opening up to you, not even a tiny crack. But here you are.

“Washington. Seattle.” You copy the structure of his answer; Joel nods, casual. “Uh, you’re a long way from home,” you add.

“Yup.” He doesn’t elaborate. Takes yet another sip. “Seattle, huh?” His gaze pierces through you, eyebrows knitted in reflection. “Born and raised?”

“Yeah…” You’re not certain what he’s getting at.

“There’s a QZ, right?” A pause. “D’you end up in it?” he questions.

The words are like a slap in the face, sobering you up a little. You don’t want to think of that right now. Not at all. You look down, fidgeting with your empty glass.

“Hmm,” you confirm.

“Damn. Heard things got pretty bad up there,” Joel says. You wish he’d just shut up. You don’t like this turn the conversation took.

“Yeah, well, I left, so.” The sentence comes out harsher than you had planned. Joel understands the message; he raises his hands up in defence.

“Got it. Sorry I asked.” The guy doesn’t look one bit apologetic. It frustrates you, and yet…You’re enjoying this little game.

“Yeah, watch it, Miller,” you warn, but your tone has gone back to being playful. Joel relaxes in his seat. He rests an elbow on his denim-encased thigh, shifting his weight.

You proceed. “So what’d you do? In Texas?”

“Hm. Contractor.” He really is a man of few words. His past occupation suits him like a glove.

“Fitting.” You give him an unimpressed pout; he stays unbothered.

“Yeah, yeah. What’d you do, then?” He asks.

It makes you chuckle. “Uh, middle school student. 6th grade sucked ass.”

Joel takes a second to register. Something quickly washes over his face, an emotion you can’t quite discern, before vanishing. You’re too drunk to analyse it.

“Huh. I would have guessed elementary,” he states.

“Aw. Don’t flatter me,” you reply, dryly.

“I’m not. Just sayin’ you don’t seem like you’ve learned much past fourth grade,” Joel says with a shit-eating grin.

Wow. You’re speechless. And then you burst out laughing. And, miraculously, Joel starts chuckling with you, the corner of his eyes crinkling. The sound is hearty, surprisingly warm. It’s the kind of laughter that you would try your hardest to hear as often as possible. That could make you all fuzzy inside, if you’d let it. And just like that, the tension that had been building between the two of you breaks. It’s comfortable, you’re at ease. The moment stretches out; you feel a strange connection with Joel, and you wonder if it’s mutual, or if you’re going completely insane. It’s probably the second option. You manage to utter a few profanities, between two breaths. Joel watches, amused, waiting for you to calm down.

“Alright, you’ve got me there,” you concede, a smile lingering on your lips.

Joel’s expression has softened. He looks younger, somehow, like a few years of constant stress have been erased just by talking with you.

“I may not be the brightest, but at least I can take a joke.”

“You’re not wrong there.” Joel fills your glass with the remnants of the mead, while you push a strand of hair behind your ear, trying to conceal a blush. “You deserve it,” he explains, “if you can take another round.”

“You keep underestimating me.” You raise your glass up in the air.

Joel imitates you. “No hard feelings?” He suggests.

“Deal.” You clink Joel’s glass with your own, and tilt your head back to swallow the foul liquid as quickly as you can, your gut churning in protest. You groan.

“Think my estimation was correct, actually,” Joel quips. You look over at him. Besides a slight glaze over his eyes, he appears unaffected by the alcohol.

“How are you doing this?” You ask, baffled.

He shrugs. “You’ll get there eventually.”

“And by there, you mean kidney disease?” You naively bat your eyelashes at him.

“I’ve survived worse,” he remarks. It’s lighthearted, but it hides a bleak truth you know all too well. You ignore it.

“Yeah. It shows.” You tease, giving him a scrutinising up-and-down.

“Hm. Funny. You didn’t seem to mind it that much when you were starin’ earlier.”

Jesus Christ.

Game over. Joel wins, one million to zero. You want to bash your head against the table, or run very far away, preferably out of Wyoming. And get torn apart by clickers. Instead, you stay right where you are, mouth agape, cartoonish. Fucking idiot. Are you twelve?

“That’s not- I- I- wasn’t-”

Joel is delighted by your reaction.

You wisely decide to shut up and quit stuttering. As if on cue, Mike hits the iconic intro to Don’t Stop Me Now. Max starts singing dramatically, in an offensively bad Freddie Mercury impression. Some survivors join in, not a single one on key, resulting in a cacophony. You take it as an opportunity to get out of the situation. You scramble off the chair and start walking away, stumbling and catching yourself on a nearby table.

“Where you goin’? We weren’t done.” Joel calls after you. You turn around.

“Me? Oh just stretching my legs.” You start stepping side to side and swaying your shoulders, following the rhythm. “Showing some love to the artists.” You shoot two fingers at him, moving your arms to the music. Joel shakes his head, chuckling. “You’re terrible.”

“Well then why don’t come here and try to do better!” You shout back, doing a ridiculous twirl as the sheer quantity of mead you ingested finally hits you. The room spins, transforming into blobs of colour. So, you close your eyes, and you flail around carelessly, your mind too foggy to worry. The tempo of the song increases.

I'm burning through the sky, yeah! Two hundred degrees, that's why they call me Mister Fahrenheit-

Suddenly, there’s a presence next to you. You crack your eyes open, checking on who’s intruding. Joel is standing about three feet away from you, hands awkwardly shoved in his pockets. His left heel is tapping the beat.

“S’a good song,” he mumbles.

Joel Miller, nervous to dance with you? Anything truly is possible tonight. You approach him, not interrupting your dance. He stays put. You two are away from the crowd, and it feels like you’re alone in the tavern with him, like no one can see you.

I'm travelling at the speed of light, I wanna make a supersonic man outta you!

As Max puts all of his might into the chorus, you get closer to Joel, because he lets you, close enough that you could reach out and take his hands if you wanted to. And you do, but they’re hidden in his pockets. So you keep dancing, wiggling your hips, jumping up and down. Joel still isn’t budging, but you feel his gaze on you, eyeing your bare arms, the tattoo right under your left clavicle, and going lower down your chest…You take a step towards the man.

“Who’s staring now?” You hadn’t planned to say that out loud, but it’s too late. You take another step, now inches from Joel’s chest, which is rising and falling faster than before. His lips are parted, his eyes intense. It’s now or never. Fuck it.

Your right hand moves up to rest on Joel’s shoulder, causing him to tense up. His expression goes stern, serious, like he’s fighting an internal conflict, debating whether he should pull away. Yet, he remains still. So your left hand goes to his other shoulder, looking up at him through your lashes. He holds your gaze, then inhales like he’s about to say something.

A clunking noise interrupts him, shattering the moment. Your arms fall back to your sides and you glance over Joel’s shoulder, searching for the source of the disturbance. You find it easily. Astrid is standing near the table your group had claimed before, her hair thrown in a ponytail, face glistening with sweat, the sleeves of her sweater pushed up. Her water gourd lays on the ground, its content spilled. Her eyes are wide with surprise, jumping between you and Joel. Her mouth contorts in a silent, one worded question.

That’s bad. That is very bad.

Joel notices the shift in your attitude and whips his head around, as a snickering Astrid jogs up to the crowd, merging into it again, certainly to tell Fred about what she just stumbled upon. Joel turns back and leans in, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers:

“Outside. Now.”

His breath tickles your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. Something stirs in your lower abdomen; a longing, a desire that demands to be dealt with, urgently.

Joel snatches his coat from the back of the chair he sat in, before striding towards the exit. You follow behind, docile, not bothering to retrieve your own jacket. Once you’re out of the tavern, the freezing wind barely even pinches your skin. You’re too preoccupied with another feeling that’s dangerously rising up inside. You need his touch. And you get what you want. Joel grabs your forearm, and drags you to the alleyway at the side of the building, lit up by a single, flickering street lamp. In a second, your back is pressed against the logs, Joel’s face taking up your entire field of vision. He’s seething with anger. His pointed finger digs into your sternum.

“You- you- ” he growls. You look back at him like a deer in headlights.

And then he kisses you. Hard. His lips crash onto yours and you let out a startled yelp, jerking your head to the side. Joel stares, anticipating your reaction. You don’t let him wait for long before you kiss back. His hands glide down to your waist, gripping it, while yours go to the nape of his neck. You pull each other in and a burning heat spreads between your bodies. Time seems to slow down as you part your lips to deepen the kiss, letting his tongue in. He tastes bittersweet like the mead. Your heart races. An ache forms where your thighs meet.

Just as suddenly as he came in, Joel shoves you away roughly. Your head bounces on the tavern’s facade. He storms out of the alley without another word, leaving you alone in the cold, panting, riled up, confused.

What the fuck just happened?

Next chapter

To read on AO3

#the last of us #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel tlou

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ingravinoveritas · 6 months

Note

David Tennant stroking another man’s hair, flirting with Alex Brooker, singing about a vibrator, wearing that wig and dancing and swinging his hips like that and finally, MICHAEL SHEEN MENTION. Bragging about being above Michael in the Dilf list like a little brat like WOW he’s about to get his ass spanked tonight

I am honestly so living for David bringing out his bratty bottom side, which I feel like is a side we don't get to see nearly often enough...

(Also, for those who haven't seen the full video of David's appearance on TLL, you can watch it on Youtube here.)

I know the moment in the gif above is supposed to be him as Gwyneth Paltrow, but all I was getting was campy, bisexual British Kurt Cobain, right down to the jumper (which oddly does look like something Kurt would've worn in the grunge era). And we can't remotely overlook the fact that David was wearing rainbow/pride gear from head to toe tonight, from the rainbow buttons on his shirt (you can see them under the jumper) to the Tardis trans pride flag pin all the way down to his rainbow socks...

And then, of course, there was the Michael mention. At this point, it honestly feels like whatever is happening between them is a big open secret (at the very least, I have a strong feeling the host Adam knows, and probably also Josh Widdicome), because it is impossible anymore to have one on as a guest without bringing up the other. In this case, it almost felt like the DILF of the Year competition was another excuse to mention Michael, and then to see David fully preening over outranking him was just...beyond glorious.

As to the aforementioned spanking, I fully concur with you. There's something in particular about this show, knowing that it was filmed live, and it's almost as if David behaved as bratty as he did because he knew a certain Welshman would be watching (giving very similar vibes to when David was on the Late Late Show in 2021). I can already so clearly picture the exchange between them after this (hopefully immediately after, since Michael is still in London and David could readily have gone to see him once the taping ended)...

"I'm more DILFy--DILFy, is that a word? Hmm--than you, Michael. According to the Internet people, that is." "Mmh. Yes, the all-wise, all-knowing Internet people." "You don't agree?" "Brat." "Ah, but you love me." "Don't think I could stop if I wanted to." "So you don't mind that the Internet thinks I'm more of a DILF than you?" "I think I'm the one who gets to fuck you, so the Internet can get bloody stuffed." "Funny, I was rather hoping I'd get stuffed right about now." "Cheeky slag. Turn around and take your trousers off." "You're so easy, Michael." "Shut up, Dai."

So yes, David's appearance on The Last Leg tonight was certainly quite something. I truly love seeing that part of him come alive, the part that he once spoke of in an interview where he talked about being a little boy and putting a towel on his head to entertain his classmates. I think deep inside, David has never stopped being that little boy, and there is something so special about seeing that part of him getting to be free.

Definitely hoping as well that we might get to see/hear Michael's reaction to all of this, but he still seems a bit quiet on Twitter these days (and if he's busy spending long nights with David, one can hardly blame him). I suppose we'll just have to see what happens...

#phantomstars24 #reply post #david tennant #soft scottish hipster gigolo #the last leg #david your bratty bottom is showing #some people hold up a rainbow flag. David Tennant turns himself into one.#i just love seeing him happy #this was seriously one of his queerest TV appearances to date i would say though #performing for an audience of one #why does this seem so plausible though #david is lowkey bi and michael is highkey bi #amazing #ineffable lovers #good omens rpf #discourse #gif by me

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gerrystamour · 1 year

Text

i can't tell where you end and where i start

Rated E | Steve/OMC, Steddie | Complete

Related to i could be honest, i could be human

Steve's adventures in bisexuality~*~ EDIT: The amazing, showstopping, skilled, fantastic, breathtaking @sentient-trash DREW TIG RECENTLY and absolutely BLEW MY MIND and just aaaaaaaaaaah Simon, as always, I adore you, you absolutely fucking spoil me CW: There is smut involving a Male Original Character, and it used to be on AO3 only, but now that I've locked my AO3 account, I've added it here now too. If you don't wanna read smut involving an OC, just scroll past it.

August 1985

The music was loud, bodies pressed close as everyone danced and shoved. Steve had been overwhelmed, scared even, when he’d first arrived, but now he was grinning as he pressed through to the bar.

“What can I get for you, gorgeous?” the bartender asked as he eyed Steve up and down appreciatively. Steve was happy that he was already flushed from dancing so his blush at the compliment wasn’t so obvious.

“Just a Coke, please!” he hollered over the music. “I have to drive back home tonight.”

“You got it, sweetie,” the bartender replied and quickly fixed him a glass.

Sipping at his Coke, Steve turned to lean back on the bar with his elbows and watched the crowd of men and women dancing. It was liberating, seeing men hold each other close and women kissing, and for a second he felt guilty for not bringing Robin. It wasn’t the first time he felt guilty, but he told himself again that it was important he figured some of his shit out on his own.

Immediately upon arriving he had been coaxed out to the dance floor by a young man with strong arms and a broad chest. He was absolutely gorgeous, Steve could easily admit that, and they danced for several songs together. They were eventually separated by the crowd, but that was fine. This was just a bit of an information gathering trip, Steve told himself, he wasn’t actually trying to go home with anyone this time.

As he scanned the crowd, his eyes caught on someone standing a bit away from Steve at a high-top. Steve’s heart stuttered at the long hair, the denim vest over a leather jacket, the ripped pants. But the longer Steve looked, the more features he noticed and relaxed a bit; the man was too tall, too blond, his hair too straight.

That did not change the way Steve’s heart raced when the man waved at him almost coyly.

Steve smiled sheepishly as he sipped his Coke, ducking his head a bit to glance at the man through his lashes.

The grin that came to Steve’s lips when the man immediately crossed the space to the bar was huge, and his breath left him as the man crowded close.

“Hey, handsome,” Steve greeted, the man’s smirk causing a swarm of butterflies in Steve’s gut to take wing. “What can I do you for?”

“Haven’t seen you here before,” the man replied, leaning a hand on the bar and idly stroking Steve’s elbow with his thumb. “You new to town?”

“Just visiting,” Steve replied, shivering at the contact. “You?”

“Born and raised,” he answered, and Steve shivered as the man’s other hand settled on his waist. “I’m Tig.”

Steve smiled, wondering if that was Tig's actual name or not. “Steve,” he replied, and Tig’s grin broadened.

He didn’t have dimples, which Steve noted with disappointment that left him feeling a bit guilty.

“Wanna dance, Steve?” Tig asked, which pulled a bit of a shocked laugh from Steve.

“Doesn’t seem like your scene,” he replied as Madonna blared over the speakers.

Tig laughed, and it was soft, almost sweet. “Definitely not,” he agreed, reaching up to brush Steve’s sweaty hair off his forehead. “Looks like yours, though. Could have a bit of fun here, and if you wanted, I could take you back to my place? Play something a bit more my speed?”

Steve reminded himself that he wasn’t intending to go home with anyone this time, that this was just for information gathering. But he was drawn to Tig. Steve wanted to dance with him, and he was probably going to go home with him.

They danced for what felt like hours but was really just seven songs before Tig called for a smoke break. Steve happily followed him outside, accepting a cigarette as it was handed to him. Tig lit his own cigarette then Steve’s, holding the lighter between them. They made small talk, the conversation easy and fun while they smoked together.

“What do you say we go somewhere a bit quieter?” Tig asked, steel-blue eyes hooded as he gave Steve a once-over. “Unless you want to keep dancing?”

“I think you were going to show me music more your speed,” Steve reminded him, smirking a bit as he shrugged. “Could always keep dancing,” he added teasingly and Tig laughed.

“You’ve no idea what you’re asking for,” Tig said with a quiet chuckle, rolling his eyes.

Steve went back to Tig’s apartment, and it was a mess. On the coffee table, there was a truly impressive bong surrounded by several glasses with various levels of various beverages. There was clothing strewn about as well and a plate with a half-eaten sandwich on the table.

“Sorry, my roommates are animals,” Tig grumbled as he took Steve’s hand and pulled him through the mess and into a bedroom. It was much tidier than the main living area and Steve looked around in fascination.

There were several posters on the walls, some clearly from a live show and others likely bought at a record store, all of them of bands Steve had never heard of. All of the posters had strange and even scary imagery. One poster looked familiar, though, but Steve was struggling to place it right away. There were two guitars in one corner of the room, one electric and the other acoustic, and Steve went to look at them closer.

“You play?” Tig asked, and Steve chuckled and shook his head.

“No, not at all. I don’t even sing or anything like that,” Steve replied, glancing over his shoulder. “I’m more of a jock, you could say.”

“No way,” Tig drawled sarcastically, smirking teasingly.

Steve just laughed and kept looking around. He could hear Tig messing around with the stereo on the other side of the room, but he focused on looking at the shelf of different cassettes and records. Finally, he looked at the bed and he blushed, his heart racing as he seemed to realize where he was.

He was actually in a man’s room, standing next to his bed while the man decided what music to put on.

There was a moment where that feeling almost turned into panic, but then his eyes fell on an old, well-loved tiger stuffed animal. It wasn’t just any tiger either.

Smiling brightly, Steve held it up as he met Tig’s gaze, and there was a light blush dusting his cheeks. “Tigger?” he asked warmly, before gesturing at the man himself. “Tig?”

“You cracked the code, Steve,” Tig replied, giving Steve a one-shouldered shrug as he put a tape in and hit play.

The soft sound of a guitar played from the speakers and Tig turned it up a touch. Then the man came around the bed to stand directly in front of Steve, smirking down at him. Gently, Tig took the stuffed animal out of Steve’s hands and put it on one of the shelves next to them.

“Not gonna ask for my real name?” Tig asked curiously, and Steve shrugged.

“Was Tig not a real name?” he asked, and Tig grinned at that, as if relieved or something.

“Tig is definitely a real name, or real enough,” Tig confirmed, lifting a hand to cup Steve’s jaw while the other slid around his waist.

There was a moment when Steve realized he was going to have his first kiss with a man, and it was going to be a guy he met only a couple hours ago, and he felt that almost-panicked feeling bubble up inside him again.

But then Tig was kissing him, and it was gentle and sweet, something Steve wouldn’t have expected looking at him. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Steve wondered if Eddie would kiss like this too.

Banishing that thought from his mind, Steve deepened the kiss and moaned when their tongues met. To his surprise, Steve discovered that Tig’s tongue was pierced, something he was very curious about. He didn’t realize he actually asked about it aloud until Tig laughed.

“How about I show you, sweetheart?”

They made quick work of stripping, even if they kept getting distracted with kissing each other, and then Steve was on the bed and staring up into Tig’s blue eyes. The nerves were coming back as they searched each other’s eyes, but Steve did his best to push them back.

It was just a blowjob. Steve had plenty of experience with receiving blowjobs. This wasn’t new.

With a smirk, Tig crawled downward, pausing to suck and nibble on one of Steve’s nipples, earning himself a sharp gasp and startled moan. Chuckling, Tig continued downward and without any preamble or teasing, he took Steve’s cock into his mouth and sunk down onto it. Steve arched off the bed as his cock hit the back of Tig’s throat, choking out a whine when Tig groaned and swirled his tongue on the upstroke.

The ball of the piercing against Steve’s cock had his brain oozing out his ears, the room swimming in his vision while he cried out. His hands tangled in silky, blonde hair, not pulling or guiding him, just holding on for dear life.

Suddenly, Tig pulled off Steve’s cock and asked, “Can you grab the lube out of the drawer next to you?”

Steve blinked at Tig, his stomach a bit queasy with his nerves, but he nodded and rifled through the drawer until he found the bottle. Laying back on the bed, Steve watched as Tig slicked up his fingers. He’d kind of looked into this, but it was still a bit nerve-wracking. Steve just hoped his nerves didn’t show, or if they did that Tig would just take them as part of some innocent act.

Tig’s mouth returned to Steve’s dick, only taking the head and working it with his pierced tongue while a finger gently probed at Steve’s hole. Working to stay relaxed, Steve grunted as the long digit slid inside and began to slide in and out. A second finger quickly joined, making Steve grimace but the mouth round his dick and the tongue playing with the weeping slit of it had him forgetting the pain immediately.

The two fingers worked his hole almost clinically, and Steve began to wonder if he would like it at all. He didn’t dislike it so far, and there was something pleasant about the push-pull in his rim.

Then Tig braced his free arm across Steve’s stomach before crooking his fingers just so.

The noise that was wrenched from Steve’s throat could only be described as a scream, his back arching and eyes rolling back as stars exploded behind them. When he caught his breath, Steve looked down at Tig with wide eyes, confused and aroused in equal amounts.

Tig was looking back up at him through his lashes, a knowing look in his eyes, and Steve was terrified he’d stop.

But then Tig was taking him as deep as possible and tilted his fingertips upward into that spot that made Steve sob.

Steve came almost embarrassingly quick, his whole body shuddering as he spilled down Tig’s throat and clenched around his fingers tightly.

When Steve was done shaking, he dragged Tig upward by his hair, kissing him deeply and tasting himself on his tongue. Without hesitation, Steve reached between them to touch Tig’s heavy, aching cock.

Tig groaned, thrusting his hips and fucking Steve’s fist, his eyes heavy-lidded as he loomed above Steve. “Close,” Tig sighed, shuddering and letting his eyes roll back and Steve quickened his pace.

It only took a few more determined pumps of his fist before Tig let out a thick, breathy groan and cum hit Steve’s stomach and chest. It was filthy and hot, and Steve wished he’d made Tig come inside his mouth instead.

Tig reached down to grab his shirt off the floor and wiped Steve’s stomach off before he collapsed on the bed next to him.

As they laid there panting for breath with sweat cooling on their skin, Steve’s attention returned to the music. It was actually sort of… pleasant, even if some of it went a bit harder than Steve typically listened to. The lyrics weren’t his favourite, but he could overlook those.

“What is this?” Steve asked, gesturing at the stereo.

“Huh?” Tig said hazily, blinking a couple times before he registered the question. “Oh, Iron Maiden. They’re my favourite band.”

“This is Iron Maiden?” Steve asked, a bit confused.

He’d looked into metal as a genre after Eddie helped him out with his busted head, but he’d been too nervous to dive into the music on his own. The album art made him think that the music would be scary, and Steve could remember many times Eddie’s van pulling into the school parking lot vibrating with screaming guitars. What was playing on the stereo was nice, and yeah, a lot of it went harder than the rock Steve typically went for, but Steve really liked it.

“You’ve heard of them?” Tig asked excitedly, rolling onto his side, a wide grin splitting his face.

“Yeah, I know this guy back home who listens to music like this— your poster!” Steve interrupted himself, snapping his fingers triumphantly and pointing to the one over the bed. “That’s on the back of his battle vest.”

When he looked back at Tig, there was a knowing look on his face that turned Steve’s stomach sour.

“You like this guy a lot?” Tig asked, and he sounded genuine in asking, like he actually wanted to hear about Steve’s feelings for another guy. Steve didn’t deserve that; he didn’t sleep with Tig just because he couldn’t have Eddie, but that was at least part of his motivation.

Steve shrugged, looking away from Tig.

“Hey, Steve, c’mon don’t shut me out,” Tig cooed softly, cupping Steve’s chin and turning his face back toward him. There was a smile on his lips as he said, “I’m not gonna be mad that you like another guy or anything.”

Steve flushed, his ears heating up as he nodded. “Yeah, of course, makes sense,” he muttered, mostly to himself before he sighed. “It doesn’t matter. My feelings for him, I mean. We couldn’t actually do anything about them anyway.”

“No?” Tig hummed, dropping his hand from Steve’s face to wrap around his waist loosely, his fingertips drawing shapes on Steve’s hip.

“We live in a small town a couple hours away, and we’re both too… popular, I guess, in our own ways to do it secretly,” he said quietly, then added even quieter, “my dad would kill him.”

Tig was quiet for a long while, then lifted his hand again to brush along the outside of his eye. The bruising was largely gone by then, but there was still a yellow-greenish tinge to his skin that spoke of a nasty injury recently if someone was observant enough.

“Your dad do that?” he asked quietly, and Steve shook his head.

“That was an accident at work,” Steve replied, the lie coming easily and Tig seemed to have bought it. “My dad never hits my face hard enough to leave a mark.”

It was weird how simple it was to say it out loud to a complete stranger like that, when he had only told Robin because she almost witnessed it happen.

“Your dad’s smarter than mine, then,” Tig said with a snort. “He went to prison—not for hitting me, other shit people actually care about, y’know? But I went into the system, bounced around a bunch of foster homes until I aged out.”

“Shit,” Steve grimaced and he wasn’t sure if his situation was so bad after all.

“Yeah,” Tig sighed, then smiled. “So this guy, he has a Dio patch on his battle vest?”

The change in topic was a bit confusing, but Steve was relieved, too. “I think he cut a T-shirt up, it’s too big to be a patch like the others, but yeah.”

“You should listen to Dio then, especially that album,” Tig said, his arm returning to rest around Steve’s waist and fingertips teasing the skin of his hip. “Might learn a few things about him.”

Steve sighed. “It’s stupid, but I’m afraid I won’t like it,” he confessed, laughing slightly.

“Do you like Iron Maiden?” Tig asked.

“Yeah, actually, I do,” Steve said with a laugh.

“You’ll probably appreciate Dio, then. You at least won’t hate Dio,” Tig said with a grin, cuddling tighter to Steve’s side.

It was nice, laying there in someone’s bed, being held. But then he started to feel a bit guilty for staying there so long. “I should be heading out,” Steve said a bit awkwardly, chewing his lip when Tig pulled back.

“Do you want to leave?” Tig asked and Steve sighed heavily.

“No, I don’t, but that’s—after stuff like this, isn’t it weird to just… hang out?” Steve asked weakly, shrugging.

“Only if you’re trying to stay when you’ve been told to get lost,” Tig replied with a chuckle as he threw his leg over Steve and shifted so he was straddling his thighs. “I was kinda hoping for round two when I put on a new cassette in a couple minutes.”

Steve smiled up at Tig, a bit awed by him. He was undeniably gorgeous, and on top of that he was compassionate and sweet, and he went by a nickname he got from a childhood toy. A toy he kept with him through several foster homes. Would Steve get a chance to learn why that toy was so important to him? Would they get close enough to open up that much to each other?

“Yeah? And what do you suggest we do until then?” Steve asked teasingly, tipping his chin up as Tig leaned down and brought his lips close.

“Was thinking about kissing you again, playing with your tits a bit, just to get you back in the mood,” Tig responded, and Steve was overwhelmed at the spike of heat that zapped through his core.

“They’re not tits,” he protested weakly, but his cock was already stiffening.

Two hands groped Steve’s chest a bit roughly before they shifted to flick their thumbs over his nipples, pulling an embarrassingly needy sound from Steve’s throat.

“Aren’t they, though? Just a little bit?” Tig asked before pinching Steve’s nipples and tugging them until Steve arched off the bed with a sob. “Y’got gorgeous tits, Steve.”

With that, Tig’s mouth finally met Steve’s, happily swallowing the increasingly desperate whines as he pinched, flicked, tugged, and twisted Steve’s nipples. It was impressive just how hard Steve already was by the time the album ended, his cock aching where it leaked drops of precum onto his hip.

Tig jumped up to quickly switch out the cassette, his own dick at half-mast but getting there. Steve took the few moments he was given to catch his breath, steady his thoughts, and calm himself down a bit. It would be humiliating if he came just from having his nipples played with.

“Shit, sweetheart, look at you,” Tig breathed, and Steve opened his eyes to look up at him.

He was standing next to the bed, eyes wide and adoring as he looked at Steve. Glancing down at Tig’s cock, he could see it had gotten harder and the thought that just looking at Steve did that for him…

It was flattering, embarrassing, and extremely hot.

Feeling brave, emboldened by Tig’s naked attraction to him, Steve played into the blush he felt rising to his cheeks, fluttering his lashes shyly as he looked away. “What?” he asked, biting his lip when he turned his gaze back to Tig’s.

Next thing Steve knew, Tig was on the bed and guiding him until he was laid out on his knees and chest. Tig was pressed flush against him from hips to chest, his dick rutting against the cleft of Steve’s ass. After the thorough fingering earlier, his hole felt loose and utterly empty, and the rubbing pressure of Tig’s length against his rim had Steve’s thoughts going hazy.

Steve had decided earlier that he drew the line at actual penetrative sex after he crossed his own line of “no going home with someone tonight.” He had made a new rule for himself, and he had thought it was going to be an easy enough one to follow. It made no sense for him to go from being basically a virgin to having a dick inside him in one night.

Then again, wasn’t that the experience of every virgin he had slept with up until that point?

“Tig,” Steve gasped, rocking back and shuddering when Tig grabbed his hip in a bruising grip.

With a thick groan, Tig asked, “what, sweetheart?”

Swallowing hard, Steve turned his head to look over his shoulder at Tig, blinking up at him through his lashes. “Fuck me?” he asked, putting a bit more sweetness in is tone than what came naturally. Then, with a sighing moan, he added, “please?”

Tig’s steel-blue eyes were almost black with how blown his pupils were in the dimly lit room. It was very clear that he really got off on the sweet, almost innocent act and he would happily play into it. Whatever got Steve something touching that spot inside him that made him scream.

Steve wasn’t sure how Tig had the bottle of lube in his hand so quickly, but then he was slicking his fingers and shifting his hips away from Steve’s ass.

Whining pathetically, Steve rocked back, trying to chase the delicious pressure. He barely had time to register Tig’s chuckle before there was pressure against his rim and then he had Tig’s fingers inside him again. There was no working Steve up to it this time, just three of his long, slender fingers as deep as they could go.

With a punched-out moan, Steve got onto his elbows and rocked back again, shuddering as Tig fucked him with his fingers. After a bit of trying to shift his hips to get Tig’s fingers where he wanted, Steve realized the man was avoiding his prostate, just moving and scissoring him and getting Steve even more loose.

“Tig, please,” Steve whined as Tig twisted his hand. Then he spread his fingers as much as Steve’s hole would let him and held them there. Steve shook, his breath leaving him in harsh little pants and he realized belatedly that he was actually talking, begging over and over for Tig’s cock.

Behind him, Tig chuckled and Steve grunted when a cold and wet glob of lube was poured over and into his spread hole. Tig’s fingers moved again a bit, working the lube deeper inside before he repeated the process. He ended up doing that until Steve was quivering with arousal, his ass so slick and wet that every small slide of Tig’s fingers was accompanied by an obscenely wet sound.

“You think you’re ready for me, princess?” Tig asked, his voice rough with his own arousal, and Steve sobbed and nodded frantically.

He didn’t even register the pet name for several moments, too busy crying into the comforter as Tig just laughed and repeated the process with the lube two more times. Steve knew without a doubt that he had never been so hard in his entire life leading up to that moment, his cock leaking a steady stream of precum onto the bed underneath him, his balls heavy and the length of it throbbing.

“Tig, please!” Steve begged, sniffling as tears streamed down his face.

“Alright, sweetheart, shush,” Tig hummed, his voice smug. “Give me one of your hands.”

Steve immediately reached back and Tig took it while he withdrew his fingers from Steve’s hole. Then he guided Steve’s hand until he pressed three of his own fingers inside his slick, hot hole. Steve’s fingers were thicker than Tig’s, but by then he was so open and wet that he didn’t even feel the stretch that much.

“Keep those still while I get a condom on, alright?” Tig said and Steve nodded quickly, biting his lip as he focused on holding his hand still and settling his breathing.

He knew he was on the edge of an orgasm he knew would absolutely ruin him for weeks, and all he could do is try not to let that happen before Tig was even inside him.

“Alright, princess, make room for me,” Tig said, and then he laughed at how quickly Steve pulled his fingers out of his hole for him. Steve blushed heavily at that, a spike of embarrassment pooling more heat low in his gut.

A large hand wrapped around the front of Steve’s hip, and he looked over his shoulder to watch Tig position his cock. Steve felt the pressure at his rim, sucked in a deep breath, and then Tig was pushing.

Despite being fingered within an inch of his life twice in one night and having what felt like half a bottle of lube slicking his hole, the stretch was overwhelming. Steve was winded already, the girth of Tig slowly splitting him in half pushing all of the oxygen out of Steve’s lungs. There was a moment where Steve considered that he overestimated his capabilities, that yeah getting fingered like he took it all the time was one thing, but a dick was a completely different story. He thought he should tap out and let Tig know that he was, for the purposes of the sort of sex they would have, a total virgin and he just met his limit.

And then Tig’s hips were pressed flush to Steve’s ass, his cock sunk to the root inside Steve’s core.

When Tig shifted to pull out, Steve reached back with one hand and grabbed his hip, holding him place. “Give me sec,” he gasped, shuddering as he willed his body to relax. The plus side was that the burning stretch was enough to pull Steve back from the edge he was teetering on since Tig played with his nipples.

“You okay, Steve?” Tig asked, and Steve nodded frantically.

The burn was starting to lessen, and while it didn’t feel good at the moment, it definitely didn’t feel bad either. He felt mostly uncomfortable, like pressure was building as his hole clenched around the thick cock inside him.

“Use your words, Steve,” Tig insisted, and to Steve’s dismay the playful, low growl was leaving his voice.

“Y-yeah, I’m okay, just needed a second,” Steve said as steadily as he could, loosening his grip on Tig’s hip and rubbing the skin soothingly. “I’m ready.”

There was hesitation, but eventually Tig let out a shaky breath and started to pull out just as slowly as he pushed in. The drag on Steve’s rim on the pull-out was intense and he mindlessly rocked back with the movement. There was a sense of both relief and sadness when Tig was nearly all the way out, and Steve let out a pitiful little sob.

“I’ve got you, princess,” Tig cooed, and he pushed back inward to the root in one smooth motion, much faster than the first time. All of the air was forced out of Steve all over again, his eyes wide as he twisted his fists in the comforter. He barely had a moment to register that it felt better that time when Tig was already pulling out again.

Each thrust grew faster and more powerful behind Steve, driving tiny, broken little sounds out of his throat. Eyes rolling back, Steve began rocking back to meet each snap of Tig’s hips, the slap of their skin meeting filling the room and almost drowning out the music. The song that was playing was picking up speed, and so was Tig, his cock sliding in and out of Steve with obscenely wet sounds. Steve could feel the steady trickle of lube running down his taint and balls, each thrust pulling more out of Steve’s loose hole.

“Time for a little change, sweetheart,” Tig sighed, and then he was hauling Steve up until his back was flush to Tig’s chest.

When Steve settled back in Tig’s lap, his cock somehow slid even deeper and Steve sobbed, grinding his hips backward. The new angle had the arch of Tig’s dick pressing firmly against Steve’s sweet spot and stars exploded behind his eyes. He could barely breathe, shaking in Tig’s lap as one hand reached back to tangle in long blond hair.

“C’mon, princess, time to move,” Tig growled, low and dark in Steve’s ear before hands fell to his hips and bodily rocked him.

The shifting movement was overwhelming and a thick spurt of precum leaked from the tip of his cock. Steve wasn’t going to last, and they hadn’t even touched his cock. That thought had static screaming in his head as his body lit up on every massaging shift against his prostate, and Steve’s throat hurt from just how loud he knew he was being. The pleasure was sharp enough that Steve was sure he had to be bleeding somehow, and it was quickly approaching the realm of unpleasant.

It was too much all at once.

Steve let out a grunt as his other hand grabbed one of Tig’s holding his hip. He tried to think of what to say, how to communicate that he needed to slow down, that it was too much, but he didn’t want to stop completely.

“Can’t,” Steve gasped out, trying to lift himself up a bit and letting out a filthy sound. It didn’t seem like Tig heard him, because he let out a thick groan and pulled Steve back down, knocking a wounded cry from his throat.

“Fuck, you sound so pretty,” Tig sighed as he nibbled and sucked at Steve’s throat.

Then Tig’s other hand, the one Steve wasn’t holding, slid forward to wrap around Steve’s cock and somehow it was a relief. The pleasure became much less sharp, more familiar even as his ass clenched around a thick length seated deep in his core. Steve whined and shook as Tig began to stroke him.

“Bounce that pretty ass of yours on my cock, princess,” Tig ordered, and Steve tried to summon the strength but he was pretty sure it had leaked out his cock with the precum puddling on the bed underneath him.

“Can’t,” Steve repeated, this time a little louder, his voice a little less choked.

Tig paused behind him before he coaxed Steve to lift up a bit. Steve gasped in a desperate breath of air.

“You okay, Steve?” Tig asked, and Steve nodded frantically.

“The position’s just—it’s a lot,” Steve managed to say after a bit, his voice shaking as his hole clenched around the cock still halfway inside him.

Tig kissed the back of his shoulder, and Steve’s stomach did a little flip. “Too much?” he asked softly, and Steve whimpered and nodded, tears springing to his eyes.

“Alright, baby, I’m gonna put you back on the bed like before, is that okay?” Tig said, and Steve nodded, letting out a shuddering sigh as he was gently guided forward until he caught himself on his hands.

Dropping onto his chest, Steve sighed with relief. It was still a lot, but not sharp at all. Turning his heavy-lidded gaze over his shoulder, Steve bit his bottom lip. “Thank you,” he sighed and rocked back against Tig.

The expression on Tig’s face was hungry and with another push from Steve, he started to fuck him properly.

It was hard and fast, and a lot of it hurt but Steve could take it. He was happy to, with the way Tig was groaning, calling him sweet names and telling him how good he was, how well he took cock, like Steve was made for it. Steve was crying, tears streaming down his face as he met each hard thrust, sobs tumbling from his lips as he nodded and pleaded for more.

“Touch yourself, princess, gonna come soon,” Tig growled and Steve didn’t wait to be told twice.

Wrapping a hand around himself, he only managed two quick pumps and then he was coming, letting out a sound best described as a scream. Behind him, Tig groaned and fucked Steve’s hole as it spasmed around him, thrusts growing erratic until he snapped his hips forward one last time with a surprisingly soft exclamation. Steve shuddered as he felt the warmth of Tig’s release fill the condom inside him, new tears spilling from his eyes at that intimacy.

Tig dropped to his elbows above Steve, draping himself over Steve’s back as he ground his hips against him. The sensation of Tig’s softening cock moving against Steve’s twitching, aching hole pulled a hiss from Steve. With a chuckle, Tig lifted himself up and off of Steve, pulling out with a wet sound that had his ears turning red.

There were several moments where Steve was alone in the bed, maybe even alone in the whole room while Tig muttered something about dealing with the condom. He stayed where Tig left him, chest against the bed, knees under him to keep out of the wet spot, and another wave of tears welled up. He wasn’t upset, he knew that much, that he felt honestly amazing despite the ache in his pelvis. So why was he crying?

Steve thought back to one of the first girls he ever slept with, the way she had cried when they were done. He thought about Nancy’s quiet melancholy after their first time.

“You okay, Steve?” Tig asked, and Steve jumped at the gentle touch of a warm washcloth against his tender ass, wiping away some of the lube.

“Yeah, I’ll get out of your hair in a bit,” Steve replied hoarsely, chuckling lightly.

“Steve, if you think I’m not cuddling the shit out of you after taking your ass virginity, you’re literally insane,” Tig said teasingly, yet firmly and Steve blushed.

“How did you know?” he asked, barely keeping a flinch at bay as he flopped onto his side to look up at Tig, who was smirking.

“I didn’t. I suspected, and you just confirmed,” Tig chuckled, laying on his side next to Steve and facing him. “You could’ve told me.”

Steve shrugged a bit. “I didn’t want you to treat me like I was fragile,” he admitted, shrugging and wiping his tears off his face. “I thought you’d stop me if you knew.”

“Steve, I was pretty sure you’d never had your ass even touched the first time I fingered you,” Tig replied with a smirk. At Steve’s questioning look, Tig said, “you got that look on your face when I found your prostate that kinda screamed that you didn’t know that was there.”

Steve blushed, remembering the way he jolted and stared wide-eyed at Tig. “That’s fair,” Steve admitted, chewing his cheek.

“It’s not my place to tell you what you can and can’t handle, so if you said ‘hey Tig I’ve never done this but please don’t stop’ I would’ve happily still fucked you,” Tig said, cupping Steve’s cheek gently.

“Noted,” Steve sighed, smiling tiredly at Tig who leaned in and kissed him, deep and sweet.

October 1985

Steve ended up getting Tig’s number as he was leaving the next morning, and while he didn’t call often, they still formed a solid friendship. The lines of that friendship blurred whenever Tig would ask Steve when he was going to come back to Indy, and Steve would immediately say his closest day off.

There was once that Steve stayed at Tig’s place for two nights in a row. They hadn’t even gone to the bar, Steve just went straight to his apartment.

It was a lot of fun, and Steve had quickly figured out the answers to his questions. Was he actually interested in men? Yes, emphatically. So it wasn’t just his confused, concussed brain being weird about Eddie? No, absolutely not.

And Steve really liked Tig, could see himself loving Tig someday even.

Tig, however, was already there.

Steve could clearly remember the moment he realized that Tig had fallen harder than he did.

They were laying in Tig’s bed, and Steve had set an alarm to leave extra early so he could still make it back to Hawkins to give Robin a ride to school. He was going to go home the night before, but he was talked into staying until the morning.

Steve moved to slide out of the bed and Tig’s long arms wrapped around him, pulling him back in with a sleepy whine.

“Don’t go,” Tig murmured sleepily, kissing Steve’s shoulder.

Steve laughed and rolled in Tig’s arms to kiss the tip of his nose. “I’ve gotta get back. I need to drive my sister to school,” he explained again and Tig captured his lips sweetly.

Even in the moment, Steve felt something different between them, something naked and vulnerable that wasn’t even there when they were having sex.

“Seriously, Tig, I gotta go,” Steve murmured against Tig’s mouth with a laugh, wiggling out of his embrace so he could start grabbing his clothes off the floor.

“Can’t anyone else take her to school?” Tig asked, his tone lacking the teasing tone it usually had, and Steve looked over his shoulder at him with a frown.

The expression on Tig’s face was open and unbearably soft and dread sunk into Steve’s gut. He knew that look because he had seen it enough times in the mirror when he had thought about Nancy when he was first dating her, when he decided to throw away even trying to get into college right after high school.

“What’s gotten into you this morning?” Steve asked with a little smile, trying to laugh it off as if Tig was just goofing off.

“I just like having you here,” Tig confessed, reaching out to touch Steve’s arm gently. “I want you to stay.”

The weight of that sentence was crushing.

Tig’s expression closed off a bit when Steve did not react the way he had possibly hoped, and the guilt Steve felt was overwhelming. He would give anything to feel the same way, to want to stay the way Tig was asking him to and he wanted to say all of that. All Steve could do was turn his face away and mutter a soft, “shit.”

Behind him, Tig chuckled hollowly. “Yeah, shit,” he said before he scoffed. “Is it because of that guy back home? You were able to pretend you were fucking around with him until the feelings got too real?”

Steve flinched. “No, Tig. It has nothing to do with him,” he bit out as he stood up, fighting back guilty tears.

“Then what is it?” Tig was sitting up in the bed, jaw set with hurt and anger.

“Jesus fucking Christ, why are you doing this right now?” Steve asked, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t have time to actually talk this out with you.”

“Then maybe we shouldn’t,” Tig said flatly, not even angrily. Steve looked at him, somewhat alarmed at the suggestion, and Tig was looking at his bookshelf. “You can leave and we just go our separate ways.”

Steve stared at Tig, his mouth hanging open before he closed it with a click. He should just turn and leave, just as Tig suggested. He could do that, and justify it as doing as he was asked.

But Steve was never very good at running away.

“I’m sorry, Tig. I really am because I wish I felt like that for you. I hate that I don’t, I feel sick about it,” Steve said in a rush, looking down at his hands while he gathered his thoughts. “You’re one of my closest friends, you know things about me that only my sister knows, and if I could choose to fall for someone, I would choose you, Tig.”

“That makes no sense,” Tig argued, and Steve couldn’t blame him.

They shared so much, had been vulnerable and genuine and open in ways Steve hadn’t even felt with Robin in some ways. Yet there was this wall between them in the shape of Demogorgons, Demodogs, and Mindflayers and all the trauma that came with those. Over the months, there were days where Steve knew he couldn’t stay the night with Tig because the chances were good that he’d be waking up with a screaming nightmare. There were several times he canceled a trip out entirely because one of the kids was slow to respond to a check-in and Steve knew the entire weekend was toast.

And if he managed to fall for Tig the way he wished he could and Tig asked him to stay again, Steve couldn’t leave the kids until he was certain the Upside Down was gone. How could he possibly explain to Tig that he was going to stay in his homophobic hometown where his father lived for the kids he babysat? Especially since they were all plenty old enough to not need a babysitter?

There was an ocean of monsters and confidentiality agreements between Steve and anyone who was blissfully unaware of the evil alternate universe under Hawkins, and he couldn’t cross it while he was still barely staying afloat himself.

“You’re right, it doesn’t, but just… those are the facts,” Steve said weakly, his lip trembling. “I love you and need you in my life, but just… not the same way as you, and I promise I hate myself so much for that.”

“Steve, stop, I don’t want that,” Tig said and he shifted to sit at the edge of the bed and wrap his arms around Steve’s waist and pull him into a tight hug. “I don’t want you to beat yourself up over how you feel.”

“Why are you comforting me right now?” Steve asked, his voice pathetically small as he wrapped his arms around Tig’s shoulders.

“Because I’m hurt over something you can’t control, and you’re hurt because I was mean,” Tig said, his words a bit muffled against Steve’s chest. “I don’t want to lose you either.”

Steve let out a shaky sigh of relief, sniffling slightly as he petted Tig’s hair. “I think I could love you like that if I had more time,” he said softly, tipping his head back to blink up at the ceiling, tears falling back into his hair. “There’s just… a lot that I’m dealing with that I can’t tell you about.”

“Yeah, I know,” Tig sighed, then he tipped his head back to meet Steve’s gaze solemnly. His eyelashes and cheeks were damp with tears, and Steve’s heart broke again. “I can’t wait for you, though. And I’m not a strong enough person to keep sleeping with you either.”

“That makes sense,” Steve said, wiping Tig’s tears away. “Can I still call you to talk sometimes?”

“Yeah,” Tig said sweetly, smiling a bit. “And you better say hi when you come back out. No avoiding me because you think you’re doing me a favour.”

Steve laughed at that, even if it hit a bit too close to the truth of his character. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied instead.

“One more kiss for the road?” Tig asked, and he looked like he regretted asking the moment it left his mouth, but he let the question stand.

Steve nodded and stooped to press his lips to Tig’s. It was a soft, chaste, and desperately sad kiss that tasted of tears when it inevitably deepened.

Pulling away, Steve stepped out of Tig’s loose embrace and finished getting dressed.

“I’ll just see myself out?” Steve said as he grabbed his overnight bag and went to leave.

“Wait, Steve,” Tig stopped him, and when Steve turned to look at him, he was grabbing something off the desk next to the stereo. Crossing the room in a couple strides, he handed it to Steve and said, “I made this for you.”

Steve stared at the cassette case in Tig’s hand with wide eyes. No one had ever made him a mix-tape, but Tig had and was giving it to Steve, even though Steve broke his heart.

“You still want to give it to me?” he asked.

“It’s yours, Steve. I made it for you, so it’s not for me to keep,” Tig reassured him, and Steve took the mixtape.

“Thank you,” he said, and it sounded pathetic to his own ears.

“I’ll see you around, okay?” Tig said, and he turned away from Steve to go back to his bed. Steve could tell he was wiping away more tears.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed and he left Tig’s room, closing the bedroom door behind himself and hurrying out of the apartment to his car.

Once he was in the Beemer, he inserted Tig’s mixtape into the tape-deck. The moment the first song started, with the almost upbeat synths over hard guitars, Steve knew it was a tape of all of his favourite songs he’d noted as he listened to the various metal bands Tig liked.

Steve smiled, even as he teared up all over again and started the lonely drive back to Hawkins.

May 1986

Over the following months, Steve and Tig stayed friendly. They still called each other to talk, and sometimes Tig invited him out to Indy, but they were strictly friends without the additional benefits. Tig was almost always on the arm of another guy when Steve would arrive at the bar and usually left before Steve was done dancing and scoping out the possibilities.

Steve was popular with the alternative crowd, partly because of the three months he spent on Tig’s arm he was sure. He belatedly came to learn that Tig was actually fairly well-known in the scene in Indy, and by extension Steve was too, at least a little bit. That revelation had worried Steve at first, that it would hurt Tig if he fooled around with his friends and acquaintances.

Tig put a stop to that worrying one night when Steve was reluctant to flirt with a guy Tig encouraged to approach him.

One day in February, Tig invited Steve out to Indy specifically to meet his boyfriend Charlie.

They were adorable together, already settling into domestic habits that hinted at their future together. Charlie was a bit older than Tig and owned a home, which is where they hosted Steve when he visited. While he didn’t outwardly appear to be as deeply into the metal scene as Tig, when Charlie rolled up the sleeves of his sweater Steve was treated to the sight of tattoos covering every inch of his skin.

As Tig set Steve up in the guest bedroom that night, he asked nervously, “What do you think?”

Steve had blinked at him, confused. “About what?” he asked.

“Charlie,” Tig said, laughing and rolling his eyes. “What do you think about him?”

“I think I’m jealous you found him first,” Steve said with a smile at Tig. “He’s a great guy. You deserve him.”

Tig glanced away with a smile so fond and happy that Steve’s chest ached with how much he cared about Tig. He was so pleased that Tig got the happy ending he truly deserved, the one he never would’ve gotten if he stuck around waiting for Steve.

“I think I love him,” Tig confessed quietly, and Steve laughed.

“You just think you love him?” he asked skeptically and Tig covered his blushing face with both hands.

“Okay, fine, I’m definitely in love with him,” he mumbled into his palms and Steve grinned.

“I definitely think he’s just as gone on you, too,” Steve said after a bit, and Tig looked at him nervously.

“You think so?” he asked, and it was weird seeing Tig so off-balance and timid.

Steve pulled Tig into a tight hug, who returned it even tighter. “I know so, Tig,” Steve said firmly.

When Steve left the next morning, he promised to bring his sister to meet them when she was on spring break in a few weeks.

Between the world almost ending and waiting for Eddie to wake up, Steve had forgotten to call Tig and let him know what was up. He didn’t even think about the fact that the earthquake had made national news until a couple weeks after Eddie was discharged.

Steve was covered up to his elbows in flour in the kitchen when the phone started ringing, and he cursed a bit.

“I got it,” Eddie called from where he was lounging on the couch next to one of the receivers. Picking it up, he drawled in an almost sickeningly sweet tone, “you’ve reached the Henderson-Harrington-Munson household, how may I direct your call?”

Snorting a bit, even as his gut fluttered at Eddie inserting himself in the home he created with the Hendersons, Steve started to wash his hands.

Eddie hummed. “Hey man, slow down—Steve’s right—yeah, he’s just in the kitchen, alright? Hold on,” Eddie said in a calming voice, and Steve looked over his shoulder with a frown. His boyfriend was returning the expression, an eyebrow raised high as he pulled the phone away from his ear and held it out. “It’s for you, Stevie. His name is Charlie?”

“Oh, shit,” Steve gasped, hurrying across the phone to take the receiver from Eddie and sat down on the arm of the couch. “Charlie, I am so sorry. I can’t fucking believe I forgot to call you guys—”

“Steve, it’s okay, Jesus, I’m just relieved to hear your voice,” Charlie said with a quiet laugh, and then there was a bunch of noise on the other line as if Charlie was fumbling his phone in his hands.

Then the rustling noises stopped. “Steve, what the fuck?” Tig practically growled over the line.

“I am so sorry, Tig—”

“Do you fucking understand how out of my mind I’ve been? There was a huge fucking earthquake! We felt it all the way out here!” Tig said, properly shouting at Steve. There was no heat in his voice, only weeks of anxiety and worry being released, but Steve still flinched a bit.

“Tig, I know you’re upset and you have every right to be, I just need you to dial back the volume,” Steve said and instantly Tig took a deep breath.

“It was all over the news, about half of Hawkins being fucking leveled, and a ton of people still being missing, and there was some murderer running around?” Tig started again, this time much quieter but no less upset. “And then we couldn’t get through to you at all.”

“Yeah, the phone lines were out for a while,” Steve said weakly, chewing his lip.

“When we did get through, a woman answered the phone and said you were at the hospital?” Tig added and Steve groaned.

“That was Claudia, and she didn’t mean I was injured—” Eddie made a stern noise and poked Steve gently in the side, not hard enough to hurt but enough to get his point across. “Okay, I was injured, but I wasn’t at the hospital for that. I was there for Eddie.”

There was a long pause. “Like, Eddie Eddie?”

Steve felt his ears heat up a bit. “Yeah, that one,” he replied, and he could feel Eddie’s eyes on him. “He was at the hospital until the end of last month—”

“Wait, wait, is he the same Eddie that was on the news, with the murders and shit?”

Steve tensed up, his stomach sinking at the thought that Tig might have bought into the bullshit. “He had nothing to do with those,” he said firmly, his anger already crawling into his voice.

“Shit, Steve, I didn’t mean it like that, I swear. We only really got the news about the murders after everything else happened,” Tig said quickly and Steve slowly relaxed again. “Seriously, most of the news on that shit was a lot of ‘hick town recalls witch hunt on innocent nerdy metalhead following massive earthquake.’ I just meant if he was the same Eddie that was in the news as one of the Creel survivors.”

“Yeah, the very same,” Steve confirmed, sighing heavily. “I’m sorry, Tig, I should’ve called. There was just a lot going on.”

Tig sighed as well and Steve could hear Charlie murmur something. “Yeah, I get it. I’m sorry for yelling at you. I was just so fucking scared, Steve,” Tig said, and Steve could hear the tears in his voice.

“I know, it’s okay,” Steve said softly.

There was another pause before Tig asked, “So when can Charlie and I expect to meet him?”

Steve laughed loudly, tipping his head back. “He’s still healing. I’ll let you know when we can make the drive.”

“Sounds good,” Tig said before he sighed. “Don’t ever leave me off the post-emergency phone tree ever again, Steve, okay?”

“I won’t, I promise,” Steve agreed instantly and sincerely. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Yeah, talk to you later. Love you,” Tig said, and Steve grinned.

“Love you, too, man,” he said and hung the receiver up. When he finally turned to look at Eddie, the other man was staring at him with his brow furrowed.

“Who was that?” Eddie asked.

“My friend Tig and his boyfriend Charlie,” Steve said with a shrug as he got up to go back to the kitchen. He knew that wasn’t the full answer Eddie wanted, but Steve kind of liked the way Eddie would get huffy at his vague answers.

“Okay, obviously I gathered their names and that they were boyfriends, but how do you know them?” Eddie asked as he got up shakily and followed Steve into the kitchen. When Steve looked over his shoulder, he saw Eddie standing in the doorway of the kitchen and leaning heavily on his cane.

“I met Tig in Indy, and then I met Charlie when Tig started dating him,” Steve replied as he got back to his baking.

“Is Tig one of the guys who popped your cherry?” Eddie asked and Steve grimaced.

“Okay, first off? Don’t say that phrase, it’s gross,” Steve insisted before looking at Eddie. “Are you going to be weird if I say yes?”

“I’m already weird, Harrington,” Eddie replied airily with a sniff.

“Fine, he was the first guy I did almost everything with,” Steve replied, rolling his eyes when Eddie let out a devastated noise behind him.

“I hate him,” Eddie claimed without any amount of sincerity and Steve just laughed as he heard Eddie shuffle back to the couch.

April 1987 - Bonus Track

Eddie was never nervous before a show.

Sure, he was jittery and scatterbrained, and even a bit short-tempered. But nervous? No. Being nervous would imply he didn’t think the band was talented or something. Plus, nowadays they had Steve around, helping them out with moving and setting up their equipment since Eddie couldn’t lift and haul things around like he used to. Having Steve’s steady presence helped ease any nerves anyone in the band might have.

Not Eddie though, because he was never nervous before a show. Not even this one, their first show since the world almost ended and their first show in Indy since ‘84. This show that was actually sold-out because apparently being framed for murder and then allegedly surviving being targeted by said murderer did wonders for your reputation as a metal band.

“Dude, if you don’t stop bouncing your leg, you’re gonna get exhausted before we even go out there,” Jeff said, gingerly grabbing Eddie’s knee and stopping the movement.

Eddie nearly snapped at him about it, but just barely stopped himself. Of course, Jeff was correct because now that he was stopped, he was forced to acknowledge the ache already settling into the muscle beneath the scar.

“What’s your deal anyway?” Gareth asked point-blank, because yeah. Eddie wasn’t acting normal.

The deal was that Steve apparently knew a fair bit of the metal scene in Indianapolis better than Eddie did. He even knew the bartenders there and a couple of the other bands that were playing that night, too. He didn’t stick around chatting very long with anyone, but it was obvious he was weirdly part of the community. Hell, when they arrived at the bar, there was practically a chorus of “Steve”s from the bartender and patrons alike.

The deal was that Eddie knew Steve had fooled around with a couple of these people, and that woke something possessive and territorial in his gut.

Eddie had understandably taken the first opportunity to say ‘mine’ as subtly as possible.

Which obviously meant he wasn’t subtle at all.

Shucking off his battle vest, Eddie held it out to Steve expectantly, clearly telling him without words to wear it. A wordless command to show all his metalhead friends who he belonged to now.

Steve had looked at the vest, then slowly lifted his gaze to Eddie’s face with a raised eyebrow and a very small part of Eddie worried took it too far. However, without breaking eye-contact, Steve took the battle vest and, in front of all his metalhead friends, shrugged it on over his leather jacket. Steve looked down at himself as he straightened the vest out, but when his gaze returned to Eddie, there was a simmering heat in his eyes that set Eddie on fucking fire.

Then Steve just turned around to sidle up to the bar for a drink.

“I’m just excited, Garebear,” Eddie said, and it wasn’t actually a lie. He was excited to perform, to show the world—or at least this dive bar in Indy—what Corroded Coffin could do, to prove that nothing could hold him back from the stage.

Eddie also just wanted to get through their set so he could get his mouth on Steve and mark him as his even more. He wanted to bite and scratch and bruise perfectly tanned and freckled skin, wanted to spell out PROPERTY OF EDDIE MUNSON with the marks. Eddie wanted to make Steve bleed, make him feel it for days so he couldn’t possibly forget who he belonged to.

And Eddie knew that wasn’t necessary, none of it, because he knew Steve was his, and Steve knew that too, happily reinforced that almost every single day, sometimes multiple times a day. Even beyond the sex they had. They were absolutely secure in their relationship together, and neither of them were worried about the other breaking what they had off.

Eddie just wanted the world—or at least this dive bar in Indy—to understand that. He wanted them to understand it and despair that they would never get to have Steve like they used to.

“Okay, now you look pissed,” Frank finally spoke up, and Eddie groaned. Couldn’t a guy have his revenge fantasies in peace?

“I’m fine! I’m excited! I’m just getting myself in the zone! Fuck off!” Eddie exclaimed, and then finally they were allowed to take the tiny stage.

The other guys took the stage ahead of Eddie, letting him take the stairs at his pace with his cane. Jeff was talking to the crowd to warm them up as Frank and Gareth got set up, and he introduced Eddie to what was actually a deafening cheer.

Seriously, being framed for murder and then gored by Demobats was the best thing to happen to his reputation with the people outside of Hawkins. He was absolutely wearing a tattered Iron Maiden shirt and jeans so full of holes they barely counted as pants, all just to show off the twisted knots of scarred skin.

As Eddie took his spot at the center of the stage and leaned back on the stool the bar provided, he immediately scanned the crowd with his eyes and instantly found Steve. He was still standing near the bar and cheering loud enough that his voice rose above the rest of the din.

Steve looked delicious, standing there in a shitty dive bar, wearing denim and leather like he actually belonged there. Steve had even indulged Eddie and let him put some eyeliner on him. That had made them almost late leaving the shitty little hotel room they were renting.

Grinning toothily at Steve, Eddie turned his attention to the rest of the crowd. “Hello Indianapolis! Been a while since we’ve been here,” Eddie said with a teasing lilt, shrugging as he looked back at the rest of the band. “Nothing too eventful happened for us, right guys?”

The crowd all snickered and cheered, and that was Gareth’s cue to count them in. Eddie stood up fully as he came in on the opening guitar riff, frowning as his leg twinged but it was easy enough to push through and the pain passed quickly. He should be able to get through most of the set standing as long as he didn’t do anything too wild while playing.

Despite generally being the face of Corroded Coffin, Eddie wasn’t the main vocalist. He shared that spotlight with Jeff, and he did a majority of the singing. Eddie was the lead guitarist, which meant he handled a lot of the more difficult guitar riffs and that was typically easier to do when he wasn’t focusing on vocals at the same time.

While performing, Eddie kept finding Steve in the crowd, meeting his gaze and smirking at the way Steve was so thoroughly engrossed in the performance. Steve had watched them practice and rehearse, but he’d never seen them perform and Eddie was fairly confident Steve enjoyed it.

Eddie did a bit of a flourish near the end of the next guitar solo, swiveling his hips in a filthy rolling grind behind his guitar. The movement had pain zapping through his thigh, but he was okay, he was perfect, because Steve’s mouth had dropped open and Eddie knew the man was blushing.

Once the song was over, Jeff started talking to the crowd again and gave Eddie a look that clearly said ‘sit the fuck down for a minute’ and Eddie rolled his eyes. Of course, he did sit on his stool because his leg was not happy after that little move with his guitar.

Eddie looked out toward Steve, who was frowning slightly at seeing him sit, but he smiled brightly when their eyes met.

Then a tall man with long blond hair walked up to Steve and touched his arm. Even from his vantage point on the stage, Eddie could tell the man was gorgeous with features so defined he looked like he was carved from stone. Steve turned his head, and Eddie was excited to watch his boyfriend rebuff the literal god vying for his attention.

But then Steve’s entire face brightened and then he hugged the man. Steve fully wrapped his arms around him, their bodies pressed flush against each other, and Eddie’s head filled with static.

The man pulled back, gestured at the vest Steve was wearing, and Steve just laughed and gestured at Eddie on the stage. When Steve’s gaze met Eddie’s, he froze under the weight of Eddie’s possessive glower.

Only a handful of songs left and then he could get down there himself to handle that situation.

Eddie did not look away from Steve for the rest of their short set, making promises with the heat of his gaze and the way he moved his hips as he played. The man leaned close to say something directly into Steve’s ear and Eddie could definitely tell his boyfriend was blushing, even from that distance.

That possessive, territorial thing inside Eddie roared to life and it took everything in Eddie to not end the set now and drag Steve into the nearest bathroom to mark him so deeply that the asshole wouldn’t even look at Steve again. He wanted to choke Steve on his cock before he bent Steve over one of the sinks and fucked his perfect little hole with only lube to ease the way. Wouldn’t even prepare him with his fingers, just bully his way in and fuck Steve until he sobbed. Eddie wanted Steve to feel his cock in his guts for days.

Three songs later, their set was done and Eddie barely put his guitar away in its case before he was striding across the bar to where Steve was standing with the blond man.

Steve looked over at him as he approached, his smile almost timid under the heat of Eddie’s possessive gaze.

“Stevie!” Eddie said with a toothy grin as he practically boxed Steve in against the bar. “What’d you think?”

“You were amazing,” Steve said, his voice a little breathless as Eddie leaned into his space and pressed his pelvis against Steve’s hip, letting him feel just how badly he wanted him already.

Eddie turned to finally acknowledge the blond man, and this time he noticed a second man standing with them, his hand in the blond man’s back pocket.

“Who are your friends, Stevie?” Eddie asked in a sickeningly sweet voice and Steve blushed deeply.

“This is Tig and his boyfriend, Charlie,” Steve replied and Eddie’s head filled with static all over again.

Tig, the man who fucked Steve first, taught Steve how to suck cock, got Steve into metal music, the very man Eddie declared a nemesis that he hated.

“I’ve heard so much about you,” Eddie said, his tone perfectly pleasant in his opinion and Tig just smirked down at him.

“And I’ve heard lots about you,” Tig said knowingly, glancing at Steve. “Well before you guys finally got together, even.”

Now that had Eddie curious, but Steve kicked Tig's boot to shut him up. Tig stepped backward quickly and actually stuck his tongue out at Steve, revealing a tongue piercing. Looking back at Steve, Eddie’s mouth dropped open as he watched his boyfriend ogle the piece of hardware in Tig’s mouth.

Steve licked his lips as he looked at it, his eyes a bit hazy as he clearly thought about that piercing and what Tig likely did to him with it.

Eddie’s ears were ringing as Steve finalized plans for the next night with the other two men, and finally he was able to drag Steve to the dingy bathrooms at the back of the bar. Eddie barely got the door shut and locked behind them before he was devouring Steve’s mouth with a loud growl, hand curled tight in Steve’s hair.

His other hand made quick work of undoing his jeans and shoving them out of the way until his cock was free. With another growl, Eddie shoved Steve to his knees and his boyfriend immediately opened his mouth with a needy moan.

Eddie wasted no time pulling Steve onto his cock, guiding his perfect pink mouth up and down the hard length of it. Steve groaned at the rough treatment, his eyes fluttering when Eddie twisted his hand in his hair. With another possessive growl, Eddie buried his other hand into Steve’s hair and pulled until Steve whimpered and tears sprung to his eyes. Eddie fell back against the door, his bad leg shaking and threatening to buckle. Eddie wanted to scream; he was so frustrated, his head thumping against the door as he prepared to pull Steve off his cock before he collapsed.

He couldn’t even fuck his boyfriend’s throat in the bathroom of a seedy bar?

Without missing a beat, Steve crawled just a touch closer and then hoisted Eddie’s bad leg onto his shoulder. When Eddie looked down at him, Steve was looking up at him through damp lashes, the eyeliner smudged around his eyes and streaking his cheeks.

It was filthy, and perfect, and now they didn’t have to stop.

With a wicked grin, Eddie pulled Steve further onto his cock, hitting the back of his throat and making him gag which was still one of Eddie’s favourite noises.

Barely giving Steve enough time to recover, Eddie set a punishing pace for several thrusts before sliding his cock into his throat until Steve’s nose was buried in the hair at the base. Eddie loved to hold Steve there almost as much as Steve liked to shake with the effort of keeping his throat open while his breath ran out. Eddie loved the way Steve’s throat fluttered around his cock, the way Steve’s whole body would heave as his gag reflex was belatedly triggered. He loved the way the fingers wrapped around his thigh squeezed hard enough to bruise

Eddie was desperately close, so he pulled back to let Steve breathe again, and then he went back to fucking Steve’s mouth. Steve whimpered loudly, wantonly, his eyes rolling back as Eddie took what he wanted from him.

With a hiss, Eddie came hard and sudden, his cum painting Steve’s tongue before he bullied his cock as deep as he could to finish down Steve’s throat. Steve choked, his whole body shuddering with it, but when Eddie tried to pull him off, Steve refused to move.

Steve, the absolutely perfect boyfriend he was, sucked and swallowed around the cock in his mouth until Eddie was nearly sobbing with the stimulation. Only then did Steve let Eddie pull him off his dick.

When Eddie’s eyes focused on Steve’s face, he moaned at the sight of him with eyes half-lidded and smeared with black eyeliner, his chin coated in spit and cum. Steve openly played with the pool of spend still in his mouth before swallowing it loudly.

“Jesus, Eds, should’ve brought you out here to meet Tig a hell of a lot sooner,” Steve teased as he slid Eddie’s leg off his shoulder so he could stand. “You’re never that pushy.”

“Well, we’re not always in your slutty stomping grounds, now are we?” Eddie shot back and Steve just laughed.

“I was a slut in Hawkins too—”

“Not with other men though,” Eddie pouted, sniffing indignantly at Steve’s full laugh. Then Eddie started reaching for Steve’s pants. “C’mon, your turn.”

“Eds, you think you could just hold me with your cock down my throat and I wouldn’t fucking cream my pants?” Steve asked incredulously and that just had Eddie’s cock valiantly trying to wake back up.

“We should get back to the hotel,” Eddie said after a few moments.

Steve just smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Why’s that?” he asked knowingly.

“I need to make sure you have a decent limp to your step when we go to dinner at Tig’s tomorrow,” Eddie replied simply as he reached down between them to pull his pants back up his hips and do them up.

Steve just grinned and nodded, adjusting his pants a bit before practically carrying him out of the bathroom and then out of the bar.

FIN

[ AO3 LINK ]

Taglist!

@lillemilly, @steddieas-shegoes, @patchworkgargoyle, @theheadlessphilosopher, @ghost--enthusiast, @havunneulanen, @scarcrossdlvrs, @indigohightide, @amoralmorel, @extra-transitional, @mylilplanet, @inairbinad

Please consider reblogging if you enjoyed! And let me know if you want to be included in taglists for future Stranger Things works!!

#steve harrington #steddie #steve/eddie #stranger things #stranger things fic #steddie fic #gerry writes

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lemotmo · 4 hours

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/lemotmo/751241780793622528

I’m confused by the timing of it. Like if it was to move momentum forward you’d think it would have been after episode 4 or 5.

To announce a hey we’re going to be giving more focus on this relationship next season, it be after the finale.

But now it’s just…. it’s airing before the episode airs tonight so like…. They already have very little to talk about relationship wise, and removing episode 9 and anything that happens in it from being able to talk about gives them even less lol. And it’s also happening after Tommy hasn’t even been seen or mentioned once by anyone in the last two episodes?

I know we keep saying Tommy is a plot device but I wonder if Lou is “plot devicing” here, by which I mean it’s mostly going to be about bucks bi journey itself (which is what Tim and Oliver and hell sometimes Ryan oddly enough lol, keep focusing on) and since Tommy is currently part of it, Lou has to be there as well.

Ah Nonny! You speak my language well!

I was just thinking about this. The timing is off. Something is going on. What an odd moment to do promo for a couple that barely had 20 minutes of screentime. You would think they would do promo after the finale, assuming they would have had more scenes together and they would be more established.

I think there are two things that could be at play here:

It's good promo for more people to watch the penultimate episode. The bisexual Buck storyline has garnered some new viewers and since Tommy is part of his storyline (as a plot device to make him realise he is actually bisexual) he has to be there.

Something might actually happen between them that won't be so positive at all. Their relationship might take a hit or even a fall. So, they won't be established by the finale and they won't be able to do any promo for them anymore.

Personally I think it'll be a combination of both of the above. I could be wrong of course, but the way the promo of this season has been going (mostly Buddie-related) and the way Oliver refuses to promote Buck/Tommy (which is something he has done before because he doesn't want to lead the fans on) I have a pretty good feeling about this.

If I'm wrong about this? Well, there is always next season. I'm convinced that Buddie is in the works. Everything in the episodes and the way they portray Buck/Eddie and Tommy in their scenes, to the promo, to the strange social media postings (Vertigo poster), to the way Ryan talks about Eddie pressing a refresh button and the audience will get to know an unexplored side of Eddie? Yeah, I'm sorry, but I'm firmly seated on my Buddie-train. I've got a strong feeling that we're riding the Endgame Express at this point.

Sorry, not sorry. 🤷‍♀️

PS: Oh and Buddie peeps, don't let anyone tell you that you are delusional. We've been here for 6 seasons. We've seen it all. But this is different now. Buck is canonically bisexual. This is no more delusion or clown noses/clown cars situations anymore. Buck is bi and all the possibilities are open now. So yes, Buddie is definitely a viable and valid option. This is something that can happen. No more clown make-up for us!

#buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #Lou and Oliver interview #we are not delusional #it's all right there in the narrative

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rose-pearls · 7 months

Text

Sparks Fly - Part 2

It took some time but here is the second part to the story Sparks Fly! (Requests are open!)

Story Taglist: @saturnsbabe69,

Top Gun Taglist: @bisexual-watermelons (open)

Main Taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187, @nyx2021, @thestarspangledcaptain, @kmc1989 (open for every fandom)

The shower was running as you let out a sigh, closing your eyes and gripping the counter tightly.

Slider had been there for the past hour, and you didn’t know what to do, Goose had died, and you didn’t know how to feel at the thought of that. The man had always been an absolute sweetheart, making you feel comfortable from the moment you met him, his honking laughter always making you laugh even louder.

Carole.

You don’t know how the woman is doing, but it must be hard with Bradley also holding onto her. The phone rings for a moment and you wonder for a moment if you are doing the right thing by calling her, she probably has other things to do.

“Bradshaw’s residence?”, her voice is trembling, you wouldn’t hear it if you didn’t know about what happened, but you can hear it.

“It’s me.”, you whisper in the phone, and you hear Carole take a deep breath on the other side of the phone.

"I'm so sorry Carole, if there is anything I can do please tell me.”, you whisper in the phone and for a long moment you don’t hear anything until a sob break through the receiver.

“I don’t know what I’m doing. I just came back from the morgue to confirm it was him.”, she says, sobs leaving her mouth and you feel sick at the thought, tears escaping and rolling down your cheeks.

“I’m so sorry that you had to do that. Do you want me to come over? I can take Bradley so that you have a moment to yourself.”, you tell her, trying to keep your breathing even and you hear her taking a shuddering breath on the other side of the line.

“I don’t want to impose anything on you.”, she tries to say but you shake your head in disagreement.

“Nonsense Carole, it isn’t a problem at all. Let me help you with whatever you need, at least to take some things of your shoulders.”, there is a moment of silence before she answers.

“If it’s not an issue, can he spend the night with you? My parents won’t be down here until the weekend, and I need to do a lot of things with Nick-”, she can’t say the words and you don’t blame her.

“Of course not, I’ll come and pick him up in in an hour, alright?”, you ask her, wondering if she will be able to hold until then to stay strong for Bradley.

“That’s perfect, that way I can pack him a bag for the night.”, she says softly, and you realize that you had been gripping hard on the phone.

“You can give him clothes for a few more days to be sure if you want.”, you tell her, and she whispers a soft agreement.

“I’ll see you in an hour, if you need anything until then don’t hesitate.”, you tell her.

“I will. Thank you, I don’t know what I would’ve done.”, she whispers, and you shake your head at her words.

“You don’t need to thank me Carole, I’m here when you need me.”, she whispers a soft thank you before the line turns dead and you try to breathe again.

“Everything alright?”, you hear behind you, and you jump slightly at the voice turning around to find Slider there looking awkward, right you had forgotten he was there.

“Everything is fine.”, you say after clearing your throat and putting the phone back.

“I’m going to pick up Bradley and keep him for the night, maybe for a day or two. That way Carole can do what she needs to do.”, you tell him, not sure why you feel like you need to explain yourself.

“That’s kind of you.”, he says, a soft smile adorning his lips.

“It’s normal, she is my friend, and she needs help.”, you tell him simply before moving towards your room to take new sheets out and some plushies you still had for Bradley.

“What about your parents?”, he asks you a moment after and you quickly look at him over your shoulder before making the bed.

“My mother just told me that my father needed to stay on base tonight, and she needs to go and see my aunt so she will be back later tonight. They will understand why he is here.”, you say simply, thinking of how you were going to explain to your parents how you knew the little Bradshaw.

“You can always stay at my base apartment. Ice is staying with Maverick to make sure he is alright.”, there is a long silence following his words and you feel your grip tightening around the sheets.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea Slider.”, you say, and you can feel the tension in the room.

“Can we talk, please?”, he whispers, and you let out a sigh, looking at the blue sheets in front of you before you feel a hand on your arm.

“Please.”, he whispers, and you turn around to look at the pleading WSO.

“What do you want to talk about Ron? We said everything there was to say the last time we saw each other.”, you whisper, and he shakes his head in disagreement.

“I didn’t and I need you to listen to me, please.”, he tells you and you try not to let yourself grow to mush at the touch of his hands on your arms.

“Fine but after I get Bradley, he is the priority.”, you tell him, and he nods quickly.

“Take him to my apartment, if you want, I’ll sleep somewhere else, but you’ll be more comfortable.”, he whispers and you look around the room, wondering how you could fit the five-year-old here, but you knew he wouldn’t have a lot of space.

“Alright, but you’re sleeping on the couch, I don’t care how small it is.”, you tell him, trying to look threatening but judging by the barely hidden smile from Ron, you know it isn’t convincing.

“Of course, sweetheart.”, he tells you with a smirk while you put some of your stuff in an overnight bag with some plushies for Bradley.

“Don’t call me sweetheart Kerner.”, you tell him before leaving the door and going towards your car, Ron following you.

“You are so sexy when you get fiery like that.”, he says with a smirk, and you feel a deep blush on your cheeks at the words.

“Shut up Kerner or I’m leaving you here.”, the man doesn’t say anything more, but he still keeps that shit eating grin on his lips.

Bradley is quiet, far too quiet for a five-year-old.

He is looking around the room, a tight grip on his little goose.

“Do you want to eat something Bradley?”, you ask him softly while sitting down next to him and he looks at you with big brown eyes.

“Why am I here?”, he asks, and you feel lost at how to explain everything to a kid that just lost his dad.

“Is it because of my dad?”, he asks so quietly you barely hear it, but you do and get closer to him.

“It is, your mom needs to do some grown up things and she didn’t want to bore you.”, you tell him softly and he looks sadly at his goose plushie.

“I miss my dad.”, he says quietly, and you feel tears in your eyes that you manage to blink away.

“That’s completely normal, but he will always be here with you.”, you tell him, and he looks back at you.

“Really?”, you nod slowly before brushing a hand on his chest right where his heart is.

“Right here and in the sky, looking over you.”, he seems unsure, but you keep smiling reassuringly.

“I think I need a hug.”, he whispers, and you nod in agreement.

“I think I need one too.”, you tell him, and a small smile appears on his lips before you open your arms and the boy immediately launches himself at you, holding you tightly.

You wrap your arms around him and hold him close, brushing your fingers through his hair and if after a moment you feel tears through your shirt you don’t say anything and just hold him as tight as you can while rubbing his back.

Ron looks worried when he comes to check in, but you smile sadly at him and before you can say anything he kisses your forehead softly and does the same thing to Bradley. The little boy has fallen asleep in your arms and as you try to put him into the bed, he holds on to you.

“Don’t leave me.”, he whispers, his eyes barely open but you can hear the fear in his voice.

“I’m not leaving you, I’m right here.”, you whisper before going into the bed with him, Bradley immediately grips your shirt, and you hold him in your arms.

Once the boy has fallen asleep you feel tears sliding down your cheeks, there is Ron’s familiar cologne on the sheets, and you feel like you are suffocating from everything you are feeling. When you finally manage to fall asleep you don’t realize Slider comes in to make sure you are alright, a sad smile on his lips as he sees the tear tracks on your cheeks.

“You want to go to the park Brad?”, Ron asks, and you look at him with raised eyebrows, but he ignores you, focusing his attention on the little boy in front of him.

“Can we play football?”, Bradley seems excited at the idea and Ron quickly nods in agreement.

“We sure can buddy but only if the lady here can hold herself in football.”, he says with a teasing smile and Bradley tries to hide his laughter as you look at them unimpressed.

“Please I will beat your ass Kerner.”, Bradley cheers in agreement before sprinting out of his chair towards his shoes and ten minutes later you find yourself at the park throwing a football in the air.

Bradley is yelling form the start and you can’t help but start yelling too when Ron tries to steal the ball from you.

“That is cheating Kerner!”, the rest is a blur of laughter and screams as Bradley manages to score a touchdown and you take him in your arms, smothering him with kisses ignoring his shrieks filled with laughter.

“Got room for some more?”, you hear someone say and you turn around to find the flyboys, with Ice and Maverick in tow.

“What do you say Brad?”, you ask the boy, and he looks at all of them for a moment before looking back at you.

“Sure!”, he says with a shrug of his shoulders, and you smile at his excitement.

“Well, I’ll let you boys start the game, I need something to drink after all of this running.”, you say and Bradley looks unsure for a moment but you smile at him reassuringly.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be right back, you won’t even notice I’m gone while you kick Ice’s ass.”, this makes the blond pilot look up and a cocky smile appears on his lips before he tackles Bradley into his arms making the little boy scream in delight. Maverick is looking at them with a small smile, and you wonder if it’s the first time he has smiled since the accident.

Ron looks at you with worried eyes, but you ignore it as you go towards the small shop at the end of the park picking up a large bottle of water before leaving the small shop. You hear them laughing and screaming from there, a smile appearing on your lips at the sight of them.

You are close to them when you suddenly hit a hard chest, nearly letting the water bottle fall.

“I am so sorry.”, you hear the man say and when you look up you feel surprised to see a familiar man.

“Luke? Hi!”, the man in question looks as surprised as you and a smile appears.

“It’s good to see you, it’s been a long time.”, he says, and you can’t help but laugh at that.

“Since high school I think, how have you been?”, the man starts talking about what happened recently and as you get ready to ask something you feel a strong arm around your waist.

“There you are.”, Ron says before kissing your cheek, an overly sweet smile on his lips as he turns towards Luke.

“Who is this?”, he seems tense, as he looks at Luke and you feel confused for a moment by his soft touch but hard eyes.

“This is Luke, we went to high school together. Luke, this is Ron.”, you say, feeling slightly awkward at the situation but Luke simply smiles.

“It’s nice to meet you, you must be her boyfriend.”, he says with a cheeky grin towards you, and you can’t help but blush before trying to say that he isn’t, but Ron speaks before you are able to.

“I am, so sorry that we haven’t met before we were a little busy with a game.”, he says, and you try not to slam the water bottle on his face and keep smiling.

“I’m guessing that is your group over there?”, Luke says while laughing and you see Bradley managing to score a touchdown making the flyboys cheer.

“It is, we are having some competitive football.”, you tell him and Luke nods in response.

“Well, it was good to see you, but I should go.”, you wish him a good day and when Luke gets far enough you wipe off your smile and slap Ron with the water bottle.

“Aw! What was that for?”, the pilot says while rubbing his chest and pouting but you look at him unimpressed.

“What was that for? Maybe for coming over and acting like you were my boyfriend!”, you whisper harshly, and Ron doesn’t look guilty for a moment.

“He was hitting on you.”, he says, and you scoff in response.

“He was not! And even if he was, what does it matter? We aren’t even together.”, you yell, and Ron looks like he has just bitten into a lemon, a sour look on his face.

“Right, well you have definitely made that clear.”, he says, and you feel frustrated at his antics.

“What do you want me to say Ron? We weren’t together and then we had a falling out, next thing I know you are at my door and now here we are.”, you say while feeling more and more frustrated.

“I know I messed up alright, I do. And I regret it every single day I wake up without you and when I don’t see you or hear from you. But I am not giving up on us, you hear me? I am going to fight for us and show you just how much I care for you and love you.”, his words ring through the wind, and you feel breathless at his words.

“Ron.”, you whisper but the man shakes his head before coming closer to you.

“I know that you could find better, hell that Luke guy is probably so much better than me, but I love you, I want to see you all the time, hear you laugh at my stupid jokes, hold you in my arms and kiss you until I can’t breath anymore. I don’t want anyone else; I just want you.”, you don’t know why you do it, but you take his jacket and bring him forward into a searing kiss.

The feeling of his lips on yours make you feel breathless, butterflies erupting in your stomach and the feeling of being finally home makes you sigh against his lips.

Ron immediately brings an arm around your waist and a hand on your cheek, holding you close while kissing you until the both of you are breathless. You can hear cheering and whistles in the distance, but you ignore them, looking into Ron’s eyes.

“There isn’t anyone else for me either, just you Ron Kerner. And even if you are an idiot, you are mine and I love you too.”, you whisper, and a dazzling smile appears on his lips.

“Thank god.”, he whispers before bringing you back into a passionate kiss.

It took some time to get here but you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

#top gun x reader #top gun imagine #top gun fanfiction #ron slider kerner #ron kerner #slider x reader #slider #top gun 1986

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vagabondreamer · 1 year

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A Night Out

Summary: This is a request! Reader X Nesta X Cassian. Y/N goes to Rita's for a night out, and ends up with more than she bargained for.

Author's Note: Thank you for the request anon, this was really fun to write, I hope you like it!

CW: Smut. Bisexual reader, afab!reader

Word Count: 2,923

Minors DNI

It was a spontaneous night out for you. Normally you spent your Saturday nights in your humble abode, drinking wine, and reading romance novels you could only imagine could someday be your life. Yet, all those lonely nights made you feel as if you were missing out on life. You were young, beautiful, and horny. Hell, you were growing tired of your own hand. And so, that’s why you were standing in the middle of a very crowded Rita’s – completely out of your comfort zone. Tugging down on your short dress, you wondered where the hell your confidence went. Bodies were moving all around you – bumping and grinding to the rhythm of the music. You stumbled your way through the crowd, reaching out to grab the bar top in front of you.

A giggle escaped out of the female next to you, “you must not be used to this,” the gorgeous blonde said. A blush hit your cheeks immediately, nodding shyly. “Here, I’ll get you a drink,” she called the bartender over and ordered you both red wine. “My name is Mor by the way.”

“Y/N,” you shouted over the music. “Thank you for the drink.” Gulping down the drink, you hoped the liquid courage would come sooner than later.

“No problem, Y/N,” she said into your ear. The proximity to this beautiful female lit a small fire in the pit of your stomach – you weren’t inexperienced with females or males, but you’d certainly never had a one night stand with a stranger. Before Mor could speak to you again, a large figure entered the peripheral of your vision. By the Cauldron, your eyes were blessed with a god-like male. His height towered over your figure, making you feel small and insignificant. To his side, a breath-takingly stunning female. Her stare alone made you feel stripped bare of your clothing.

You needed another drink.

As if reading your mind, Mor ordered drinks for you and the mysterious gods amongst you.

“Hey, this is Y/N, she’s all alone tonight,” Mor said flirtingly to the pair. Turning to you, she introduced the female as Nesta and the male beside her as Cassian – they’re mates. Of course they were. Two perfect creatures tied together by fate. Your stomach dropped, realizing they’d never look at you the way you were devouring them with your stare. And perhaps you had made it way too obvious, because Mor wished you good luck and left your side. Anxiety shot through your spine, what the hell were you supposed to say? Should you just leave? You certainly felt like a third wheel now. Grabbing your drink, you began to say your goodbyes and leave when two different hands halted your movement.

“Where are you going?” Cassian whispered in your ear, his breath tickling the side of your neck. “We just met, and you want to leave already?” He feigned hurt.

On the other side of you, Nesta tucked some of your hair behind your other ear as she leaned in, “don’t you want to have fun? That’s why you came tonight, right?”

Looking up at the two, you felt like a deer caught in a snare trap. Cassian was intimidating due to his size, but Nesta’s stare and radiating dominance was just as strong – if not stronger. The fire that lit in your stomach was growing stronger, and if it weren’t for the other lust filled bodies in the club, you were sure they would discover how turned on you were right now.

Laughter erupted from the male, “relax sweetheart, we don’t bite…unless you want us to.” Nesta just elbowed his side, and cracked a smile at you. At that small gesture, the atmosphere suddenly felt more familiar, like cracking open a good book. The breath you didn’t know you were holding in was suddenly let go, and you smiled back at the pair.

“So, how come we haven’t seen you here before?” Nesta asked, taking a seat at the bar next to you. Cassian remained standing, showing off his large wingspan as he took in a relaxed stance.

“I really don’t go out at all. I kind of just stay at home and drink some wine, maybe read a little.” You felt embarrassed admitting how boring your life is.

Nesta’s eyes lit up, “ you read? What do you read?”

“Oh here we go,” Cassian playfully complained. This earned him an eye roll from his mate. You began to tell her what you read, but you explicitly left out the juiciest, smuttiest novels. She was intrigued, but the look she gave you went straight to your soul.

“You know what I think?” She began as she scooted closer to you, her whole scent engulfing your senses. “I think you seem like the kind of girl to read some of the nastiest, toe-curling, orgasm inducing novels known to mankind.” She peered at your face, hoping to read your face like a book.

“And what if I said that I do?” The alcohol was finally hitting in all of the right places. Cassian wings fluttered, as he watched his mate flirt with the alluring female in front of him.

“Tell me your favorite scene, from your favorite book,” she commanded, taking a sip of her wine.

You pretended to put some thought into your answer, but you knew exactly what scene you were going to describe. It had been from the latest book you had just read, and it was the reason why your own hand wasn’t doing you any justice.

“The book is called Letters to My Lovers. The main character is infatuated by two of her lovers, one male and one female, and they demand she chooses one, but she can’t. And so they have a competition, the one to bring the most pleasure out of the main character will win her heart. And what starts out as a competition, soon turns into a fuck-fest. Like all three were meant to breathe each other in, and taste one another.” Your breath sped up as you told the story, and it didn’t go unnoticed by the pair watching your every move.

Cassian bit his lips as his gaze moved from your face to your now rapidly moving bosom. The swell of your breasts were the perfect size and he just wanted to take a bite out of you. His gaze raised to his mate’s face, wondering if she was going to make the move or if he had to. He didn’t have to wait long, as her arousal was dancing in the air around you three. Cassian shifted on his feet, trying to relieve the pressure that was brushing against his trousers.

“Have you ever thought of re-enacting your favorite scene?” Nesta asked you, eagerness in her eyes. You’d be lying if you said you had never thought of it before.

“I have, but…” You stopped yourself, glancing between the mates. The alcohol loosening your tongue even more, “you’re mates…why would you want me?”

“Sweetheart,” Cassian took your chin in his large hands, making you stare up at him, “have you seen yourself?” Your heart fluttered in your chest, you looked to Nesta for reassurance.

“Do you want to get out of here with us? It’s okay if you don’t,” she gave you a longing look. “We just think you’d make a perfect addition.”

You nodded as you stood up, letting the pair lead you outside. The chill air hits your bare skin, making your nipples pebble beneath your sheer dress. A loud groan escaped the Illyrian male beside you, making you clench your thighs together.

“I wish I could just take the both of you here,” he groans as he grabs both you and Nesta into his side. His wings jostle awake, stretching and warming up before taking off. “You ready, sweetheart?” You nod, and hold tight to his side, feeling his cock press into your thigh as all three of you shoot up into the sky.

A sweet scream erupts from your lungs, and the pair just giggle at your reaction – finding it endearing. The flight is short, everyone entirely too eager to take the scenic route to the House of Wind. Cassian lands on the platform gracefully, loosening his grip on you but not letting you go completely. In mere seconds, Nesta’s slender hands find your face and she pulls you into a deep, sensual kiss. The kiss has you seeing stars, as you move your hands up and down the female before you, a deep growl erupts from the male beside you. Running out of patience, he tears you from Nesta’s grip and shoves his tongue down your throat. The heat emitting from his body is enough to make you moan heavily into his open mouth. Behind you, you can feel Nesta’s hands slowly unzipping your dress – leaving open-mouthed kisses with each inch exposed. The dress slips off your body, leaving you fully exposed to their eyes. The heat from Cassian’s body and the chill from the outside wind has you shaking like a leaf in anticipation.

“Let’s get her inside, Cass,” Nesta slips her hand into yours as she leads you into their shared bedroom. As soon as you step inside, your hands find her zipper and hastily you take it off.

“Looks like someone’s in a hurry,” his rough voice sends thrills down your spine.

“Oh like you aren’t,” you tease back as you undress his sexy mate. She smirks in approval at your statement, and begins sucking at your neck as her hands explore your naked body. Deciding to put on a little show for the male, you grab the flesh of Nesta’s ass and pull her even closer to you, both of your legs intertwined as you fall gently onto the bed. You can feel the slickness of her juices running down onto the thigh you have pressed up against her pussy. The moan she gives you is heavenly as you let her ride your thigh. Your lips attach to one of Nesta’s nipples, sucking and gently biting on the pink pebble. Your fingers slide through her folds, feeling the wetness between your digits. Slowly, you focus on her engorged clit, and her grinding intensifies. You continue rubbing her clit as a single finger slips into her and curls up into her g-spot, in an instant she is cumming all over your thigh. Switching over to the other nipple, you hear clothes being ripped off in the distance.

“Nes, we’re supposed to be making her fantasies come true,” Cassian stalks over to his lover, gently pulling her off of your body. It’s then that you see just how hung this male is, and it has your lips pulled apart in awe. “Like what you see, pretty girl?” He smirks, knowing exactly what you’re thinking. In a swift motion, he carries you up further on the bed, giving him plenty of space to kneel in between your pretty thighs. He licks and sucks on your plush thighs, as Nesta makes out with you and plays with your nipples. Her hands move up and down your torso, discovering little spots that give you pleasure that you had never discovered yourself. Cassian gives you a teasing lick, a soft moan and buckle of your hips has him chuckling. But there’s only so much patience this male can have, he dives into your pussy and devours you. Slowly he sinks one finger into you, it’s way thicker than yours by a long shot. Then he inserts a second finger, and you think you’re seeing the gods. The noises that come out of your mouth are new to you, and you bite down on your lip in slight embarrassment.

“No, let us hear it all, Y/N”, Nesta demands of you. Letting your lip go, you let all your moans into the air. Cassian groans into your pussy, the vibration shaking you to the core.

“I'm going to cum!” You exclaim. Your legs try to shut on Cassian’s head, but his strong hands keep them pried open. The orgasm shaking out of your body. Slowly, your body falls into little shakes, and a smile reaches your features. “Fuck that was so good.”

“We’ve just started, sweet thing,” Cassian reaches over to Nesta. She licks up the juices that remain on his face, and captures his lips with her own. Another moan slips out of you as you watch the two feel each other up. They pull apart, and lean down to shower you in kisses and praises.

“I want you in my mouth…fuck, I want you both,” you looked in between them desperately. Nesta gave you a deep kiss, and then gave her lover one.

“Cass, on your back, now. Don’t you want to see how well her mouth takes you?” She seductively asked her mate.

“Hell, yes I do.” He leaned back in obedience, his wings spread apart beneath him. His cock sprung up and hit him in the abdomen, precum leaking out of him. Your mouth salivated as you leaned down and swiped your tongue from his base all the way to his tip. His body shuttered in response, his pupils fully blown out with lust as he watched you take him into your mouth. At the same time, Nesta was behind you, lifting your ass up and spreading your cheeks to see the sweet juices spilling out of your pussy. She groaned in pleasure as your sweet scent hit her nose, and she too, dived into your pussy. You took Cassian in as best as you could – he was so large, and no matter how hard you pushed yourself you couldn’t take him all the way in your mouth. Tears pricked in your eyes at the sheer size of him and from the pleasure you were receiving from behind. You moaned around him, the vibrations adding extra pleasure for him.

“Oh fuck, sweet girl, gonna make me cum!” It was your only warning before he spilled his seed down your throat, in turn, your legs began to shake as your own orgasm began crashing down on you and onto Nesta’s plush lips. You licked him all clean, not missing a single spot. In an instant, he was rock hard again – as if he didn’t just cum down your throat. Nesta grabbed your face and you made out with her, switching your taste and Cassian’s taste between each other’s mouths. Pulling apart, you see Cassian’s smirk as he watches two of the most gorgeous females he’d ever seen fall apart for each other. “Nes, on my face, now. And Y/N, I want you on my cock.”

An excited chill slivers up you, but as you straddle his waist, you wonder how the hell his cock is going to fit inside you. He’s going to tear you apart.

“Hey,” Nesta gently grabs your face, giving you a light peck, “you want to continue?”

“Yes, absolutely, yes. I just – he’s so big.” A deep groan rumbles out of Cassian.

“Gonna make me cum just talkin’ like that, sweetheart.” Nesta sits on his face, shutting him up completely.

“Come here, let me guide you,” she says. Nesta grabs Cassian’s cock and pumps it a few times, the moaning from beneath her grows louder. She gently grabs your waist, leading you to lower yourself onto her mate. The head of his cock slowly breaching your wet folds. Moans escaped the female in front of you, as Cassian consumed her entire being. Inch by inch, you sat down on his massive cock – letting it split you apart, deliciously. Reaching out, you engulfed Nesta in a passionate kiss, and began riding Cassian. As you rode his cock, Nesta rode his face, and you could feel the throbbing in your pussy by how good this all felt. The room was hot and sweaty, and ungodly noises could be heard throughout Velaris, you were sure of it. Reaching down, you rubbed Nesta’s clit, helping her climax on Cassian’s mouth. The guttural scream coming out of her mouth was one you wanted to hear everyday for the rest of your life. You continued to ride the male, chasing your high when you felt Nesta’s mouth coming in contact with your clit. She spit directly on your pussy and watched the spit dribble down to her mate’s cock that was still pounding in and out of your tight hole.

“Oh fuck, Nes, Cas! I can’t hold on!”

“Cum, Y/N,” Nesta ordered. And so you did. You came, a huge gush of juice leaking onto his cock. Your tight hole squeezed him into his own orgasm, his large load spilling into you.

For a moment, you all stayed in your positions. His cock still inside of you, and Nesta is still straddling his face.

“Alright babe, I know I said I’d love to die by suffocating on your pussy, but not today” the male beneath her chuckled. You both laughed in response as she got off of him, and she helped you off of his now softening member. His seed leaked out of your now sore pussy, and everyone just groaned in pleasure.

“How about we get a few hours of sleep…and then round two?” Nesta asked you as she laid you down, giving you soft loving kisses on your face. Cassian just snuggled into your side, embracing both females in his large embrace.

“Sounds like a plan to me,” you replied, a smile forming on your face as you drifted to sleep.

#acotar #acosf #nesta acosf #nesta x cassian #cassian #cassian acosf #nessian #nessian x reader #nesta x reader #cassian x reader #nessian x you #a court of silver flames #reader insert

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kukos-satellite · 3 months

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Voltron hcs because I can & will! p, 02- Lance M.

Annddd here’s Lance MCclain everyone! He’s going to be the last one for tonight then tomorrow night I’ll be posting Pidge and Allura! Hope you enjoy these ones as well and feel free to add some of yours because I’ll be delighted to read through them :)

he/him bisexual nonbinary

audhd as well!

- he’s more sensitive to textures than Keith and Pidge are

mommy, daddy and siblings boy

- he puts his family and Keith before anything and anyone else

can also sleep anywhere and actually does so

- Keith definitely finds him in the most random spots but he makes sure Lance has a pillow and blanket

he’s more into action movies (think of John Wick movies) or ones in a cartoony style (think of Minions)

he watches shows with Hunk and Coran

he helps out in the technical department with Allura and Pidge

- got kicked out for asking too many questions to Pidge and they got annoyed

he likes to fiddle with his hands or knees

he likes to paint while Keith does photography

he LOVES spicy food

he hates sharing his food

he showers for at least of 2 hours

- mostly because he’s having his “concert” time in there and singing to Keith’s shampoo bottle

he’s the mix of being a picky and non picky eater

he wears a lot of blues though his favorite color is actually maroony red

he LOVES the beach and taking long walks

he was born left handed but decided to train his right hand for combat/training reasons

he has a strong dislike for mustard

he drinks more coffee than tea

- he puts honey in his coffee which weirds out Hunk and Shiro but Pidge, Keith, and Allura accept it

he has named a couple of his siblings

the next part will be Pidge’s hcs!

#voltron legendary defender #voltron headcanons #klance #lance mcclain #keith kogane #KS: incorrect voltron posts #KS: incorrect fandom headcanons

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gasolinerainbowpuddles · 7 months

Text

𝕂𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣 🎃💦 ∘₊✧ 𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝟙𝟜 ✧₊∘

|| ︶꒦꒷𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝕞𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥꒷꒦︶ | main masterlist ||

@absurdthirst's Kinktober 2023 Prompts

day 14: Uniform, Suspension Bondage, Abduction/Kidnapping

ty to @jupiter-soups for putting eyes on this 💜

𝐁𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐖𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐬 a continuation of the pairing from Day 3

| PAIRING(s): Maxwell Lord x fem!OC/reader x m!OC Shawn | RATING: explicit material | 18+ | WORD COUNT: 3.6k (don't look at me like that) | CONTENT: disaster bisexual navigates internalized homophobia and toxic masculinity, exhibitionism, awkward MMF dynamics bc Max is a disaster bisexual, misunderstandings from most parties about gender and sexual expression but they're learning okay? | SYNOPSIS: It's your birthday, and you know just what you're going to ask Max for.

He knew it had only been a lie - a half truth - even then. That you wanted someone to watch the two of you having sex. Being viewed and admired in the throes of passion. Voyeurism. Exhibitionism. Group play. Max wasn’t even sure what he was supposed to call it anymore. You were always sure to never make him put a name to something until he felt safe enough to claim it. A soft understanding to not push him past what he could understand – or accept. But helping him get there, nonetheless.

So when you’d brought Shawn into the equation, he forced himself to have a detached coolness about the entire thing. At first he was relieved it was a man because performing for two women at the same time felt daunting. He was relieved it was a man so that he could wield his command over the situation and another masculine figure. Assert his dominance.

Then, the dread. The dread of knowing he’d have to regulate himself, make sure he was paying enough attention to you so as to not incriminate himself with where his desires drifted and settled oftentimes - to another masculine figure.

You being the one orchestrating this and choosing the other man afforded Max the plausible deniability he needed. For himself. For others, if they ever came to know what happened in the four walls of his home. Reasonable doubt could be sown and cultivated if he needed it. The fact that there was a man involved in his private, sexual dealings. A quasi participant to his sexual gratification.

Shawn was shorter but held himself taller. His dense facial hair and strong jaw screamed male! and a fine specimen of one, at that. He had light green, easy eyes and a friendly smile. His dark brown black hair was a loose mess of naturally wavy strands that begged for fingers to caress and smooth over. His hands weren’t very large, but the twist and flex of his muscle in them as he fidgeted with them gave an impression of strength. He was handsome. He was kind. He was devastating.

You slyly insisted Shawn was the “perfect pick” because he wouldn’t try anything with you – he “didn’t really swing that way.” Max’s cock thickened at the thought of a man’s eye on him in the bedroom, and only him. The first time, he’d overdelivered as Shawn sat and gorged on the display. After the second time, you’d carefully asked if Shawn could “indulge himself” from where he sat and watched. Max agreed to it and subsequently did a poor job hiding his ogling of Shawn tugging on his own dick.

This past time they’d come at the same time, a few moments after you had, and he couldn’t break eye contact as it happened. There was something in his face begging for Max to let him have this, let him have a moment of shared intimacy even if they were several feet apart and hadn’t touched.

So now, tonight, when you’d hinted at “something special” for your birthday, Max attempted to remain the safest amount of disinterested while still engaged as the three of you sat around finishing up dinner. He was on his second glass of white when he offered another pour to Shawn, who smiled shyly and accepted. They hadn’t spoken much, which was a direct result of Max avoiding conversation as much as possible, afraid to slip up and say something that would reveal his inner workings.

“Alright, I’m just going to remind everyone that it’s my birthday,” you say with a giddy lilt as you stand from the table a few minutes later. “So if the birthday girl asks for something, make sure you’re really, really dedicated to finding an alternative, comparable gift if you plan to tell me no.”

You wink and grin, and it lights up your entire face. God, Max really did love you. You were something else entirely. He had no choice but to trust you as you instructed him to stay put while you and Shawn slinked quietly into the bedroom, whispering excitedly to one another. He remained as you’d left him, patiently impatient for you to return. It was a painful ten minutes before he heard the soft padding of feet heading his direction. Then, the low sound of you clearing your throat.

“Your cleaning service is here, Master Lord,” you announce in a put-on, pouty voice.

Max opens his eyes and sucks in a sharp breath as he takes in the two of you dressed up in some shiny, cheap looking French maid costumes. Your breasts spill from the poorly fitted bodice. The slope of your ass and hips lift the skirt of the mock uniform in all the right places. The delicate lace trim of the thigh high stockings looked feather light against your soft, smooth skin.

His eyes flit to the hyper feminized version of Shawn. He lacks the chest and teasing curves of a woman’s body, but the stretch and pull of the fabric around his muscles and broader form bring about a different sort of desire. A hulking, strong thing made into something small, demure. Supplicant. Obedient. Max’s chest heaves up and down at the crushing and exhilarating realization that seeing Shawn this way aroused him more than he’d ever known was possible.

You’re both made up with bright red lipstick. Shawn’s lips protrude with the bright wash of color. His beard that had been scruffy at dinner was nowhere to be seen. You must’ve shown him where Max keeps his grooming items. His smooth face gave an air of youth and innocence that had Max adjusting his crotch awkwardly in his dining chair.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath. He tries to manage a calculated, careful pull and release of air, but he can tell it’s coming sort of panicky and excited.

“Master Lord,” Shawn greets meekly with a small curtsy. The band of the stockings strain under the swell of his thigh muscles from the minute movement. Max rests a hand over his hardening cock.

You saunter over to him and wink again, a soft and playful thing that has him calming slightly. “Birthday girl wants to get things tidied up and tended to around here,” you purr as you slowly lean across the table to clear the dishes. Shawn follows suit until you’ve both taken everything to the kitchen. Max sits in shocked silence, afraid to move. Unsure of what he should do despite knowing what he wants to do.

You lead him quietly to the couch and give him a gentle shove backward. Shawn follows closely and plants himself on his knees to the floor beside Max’s feet. You slink your body down until you’re in the same position, flanking his other side.

“Master Lord, do our uniforms meet your standards? We know care should be put into occupational dress – an important component in putting forth an acceptable workplace presence,” you say so slick it’s a wonder the words didn’t drip off your tongue like honey.

He swallows and nods, not trusting himself quite yet to speak.

“Perhaps he’d like to see all of the uniform,” Shawn suggests in a small voice.

You cock your head in his direction and grin. “I think you’re right, Shawn. Let’s have Master Lord see all of what we’ve got on.” You turn back to Max. “Do you want that, Master Lord? Can we show you?” you ask in a breathy hum.

He licks his lips and nods. You tap Shawn’s leg and nod your head towards the living room table behind you. You both sit at the very edge of it with your legs spread, the curl of fabric dipping between your thighs working to conceal the hidden treasures you’re teasing. You gently tug the hem of your skirt above your hips to expose the lacey white undergarments barely covering your sex. Max groans at the small damp spot he sees. Your hand delicately traces across the fabric of Shawn’s skirt before lifting it and revealing the misshapen bulge of his hard cock against the lace panties.

You breathe a little laugh at his hardening erection. “I don’t think that’s for me, is it?” you tease, giving him a nudge of your elbow.

He shakes his head, never taking his eyes off Max. “No, it’s for Master Lord,” he asserts, almost sounding short of air. Max gasps soft and low at the press of Shawn’s cock against the delicate fabric of women’s undergarments.

“What do you think, Master Lord? He’s hard for you. I bet shoving his hard cock into those small women’s panties is so uncomfortable for him,” you purr.

“Is it?” Max demands in a hush. His eyes flit up to Shawn’s. “Does it hurt your– does it hurt your cock with it pressed into women’s things?”

Shawn’s eyes flutter shut as he smiles to himself. “Yes, Master Lord. I can feel the seams pressing into it.”

“Do you want to show him what else, Shawn?” you whisper loudly. His cheeks flush as he sits unmoving, eyes locked with Max. “Only if Master Lord wants to see it.”

There it was. The direct positing of want. The onus of lust. The demand for the unspoken desires to be claimed.

“Show me,” Max grunts before he can talk himself out of it.

Shawn nods and sinks onto the floor once more. He turns and lays his belly and chest across the table. The rounded tip of his lace clad bulge is all that can be seen without lifting his skirt.

You won’t make Max admit it twice. You flip the skirt over Shawn’s muscular backside and smooth a hand over the hairy skin. The thin string of thong is swallowed in between his flesh, and the glint of something sparkles underneath the fabric. You pull it aside to reveal the sparkling tip of a buttplug.

Max chokes and lets his head fall against the back of the couch. “Fuck!” he hisses. His own erection tents his pants. No hiding it now.

“I think Shawn has been keeping this inside him, wishing it was you, baby,” you coo in a soft, coy voice. “Maybe you should ask this little sissy boy slut how long he’s had this thing stuffed inside him just wishing it could be you instead.”

Max’s head snaps to attention. Sissy boy. That was a new one. Was that the name for men who wore these sorts of women’s things? Wasn’t that crossdressing?

As if you could sense the direction of his thoughts, you supply a simple answer. “Turns out me and Shawn both want and need the same thing: a man with a nice big cock to boss us around and fill us up.”

You thumb at the glistening end of the toy, and Shawn whines a little. Max’s cock kicks at the wanton, plaintive sound. You eye his attentiveness in your periphery and bite back a smirk. “Here, let’s see what’s behind the curtain,” you giggle as you pull the toy slowly from Shawn. He sucks in a gulp of air as you slide it all the way out. It glistens in the dim light of the living room.

“Come on up, honey,” you say softly to him as you help him down from the table and onto the floor. His eyes are heavy and wanting. Max feels something within him kick into gear. “Little sissy boy, huh?” he hedges with feigned bravado.

Shawn pretends not to notice and nods meekly. “Yes, Master Lord.”

“Take it out,” Max commands, lifting his hips a little to signal his order.

Shawn crawls forward quickly and unfastens Max’s pants before pulling his cock free. You scramble up beside him and look on. Your eyes light up when Max instructs Shawn to hold it by the base for you to suck. You take him as far as you can, only stopping when your lips graze Shawn’s knuckles. You glide the wet of your mouth up and down and watch as your slobber slowly starts accumulating and dripping down his hand. You pop off from sucking and licking at the tip and take a moment to catch your breath.

Shawn makes a few exploratory passes of his fist on Max’s length and starts stroking harder when he gets a chest grumbling moan from Max. You bend down and feather kisses on his scrotum. He watches you with hopeful eyes. You won’t make him ask for it. You lean further and graze the tip of your tongue against his asshole. You smile and nod, an encouraging push for him to let go and feel good. His hand cups the back of Shawn’s head before slowly inching his mouth against his weeping cock.

Shawn all but swallows him down, finally getting closer to what he wants. Max lets out several pained whines as you flick your tongue into his ring of muscle while he pushes Shawn’s head down until he’s gagging. It’s a slobbery mess with red lipstick smearing across everyone’s skin and you all begin to drop off into pleasuring each other. Eventually Max pushes both of your heads away from him. “Fuck, I gotta– I need a minute or I’m not gonna last,” he pants.

He tilts his head back for a moment as though he’s concentrating on something and then focuses his attention on Shawn. He stands from the couch and gestures to the now vacant seats. “She’s gonna lay here, and I want you to make her come on your fingers,” he says matter-of-factly. Shawn’s brow pinches in surprise and confusion, a furtive glance your way at the unexpected turn.

“I’m comfortable with it if you are, Shawn. No pressure, though. We can still have fun doing something else if you’re not comfortable. Right, Master Lord?” you pointedly ask as you look up through thick lashes.

“Yes, of course,” he affirms. He looks nervous for a moment, like the bubble has popped, but relaxes when he sees Shawn’s fingertips skirting your thigh.

“Not exactly my area of expertise, but I’ll give it a shot,” he laughs low.

Max leaves just as you get situated on your back and the wet of Shawn’s fingers prods your entrance. He returns quickly with a bottle of clear, thick lube and squirts a generous amount into his palm before slathering it over his angry, red cock. He awkwardly jostles his pants and briefs off before yanking his shirt off. He watches with abandon, allowing himself to be greedy and lecherous.

Your face goes through a myriad of expressions, none of them pleasured, as Shawn tries to figure out an angle that works. Max feels a rush of superiority. He would’ve already made you come by now, especially when you were already so worked up. He scoffs at Shawn’s attempts, drawing his attention up.

“Not a real man at all, are you?” he sneers.

Shawn shakes his head in agreement. “No, Master Lord. Not like you.”

Max huffs and leans over you. He works his fingers inside you and draws an orgasm in less than a minute. You let your head loll, a satisfied giggle rushing past your lips. “Show off,” you laugh. Max grins and stands upright again. He eyes Shawn with a curious hesitation.

“Will you take care of me, too, Master Lord?” he asks in a hush. Afraid of the answer. Afraid of the rejection.

“Get on your hands and knees,” he snips, but there’s a hint of a tremor in his voice.

Shawn obliges and crawls onto all fours. Max reaches out for your hand and guides you onto the floor next to him where he squares his hips to Shawn’s. “Pull his skirt up,” he requests with a tremble. His breath catches when you lift the hem to just above the curve of Shawn’s ass and palm both of his cheeks apart.

“You must feel so empty without that toy filling you up,” you tease. Shawn moans and makes a gasping plea to be filled up.You hook a thumb on the string of fabric barely concealing his tight, aching ring of muscle.

You tilt your head to look at Max. His cheeks are delightfully flushed, his mouth hanging loose. There’s a flash of reluctance there, an internal dialogue about something. “What is it?”

Max looks to you and flushes a deeper shade of crimson at having been caught mid-thought. “I, uh… shouldn’t we… a condom.. because of….” he trails off.

“I’m clean,” Shawn supplies gently, instantly understanding the tone and reticence. “I brought my results from the clinic in case you wanted to–”

“No, no, that’s fine, that’s fine. I didn’t mean–” But Max falls silent. He did mean it. He did have the assumption that a man who indulges in the company of other men would have something inherently unclean about them, something diseased. It wasn’t lost on Max that he was nothing more than a hypocrite. The fact that he himself was in the very same dynamic he moments ago examined through the lens of bigotry and puritanical pigheadedness. On the precipice of a freefall into self-loathing and shame, Max is pulled from his thoughts.

“I wanna feel you - just you,” Shawn solicits in a demure appeal.

“You gonna show him what a real man can do?” you ask in a throaty hum.

Max grasps his length hard and teases it against Shawn’s asshole and swallows hard when he sees the soft puckering movement as if it’s insistent on being stuffed with him. “You take a lot of cocks in here? You let real men fill you up since you’re only useful as a little sissy boy cum dumpster?”

Your eyes widen slightly. You’ve never heard Max speak so crudely, even in the bedroom. It sends a renewed ache between your thighs. Shawn seems to approve of this new side to Max as well, if his needy moan is anything to go by.

“Yes, Master Lord. I need a real man to–”

Max slowly starts inserting himself into Shawn and whimpers at the clutch of muscle around the tip of his cock. You rush to reposition yourself to face Max without leaving your hold on Shawn. His teeth are bared beneath his curled lip as he pushes himself all the way to the base. Shawn chokes back whimpers at the stretch and fill.

“You like fucking his boy pussy?” You lick your lips as you watch Max speed up his thrusts.

“Yeah,” he grunts. “Yeah, fucking his boy pussy.” He vocalizes like he’s taking your commentary and internalizing it before spitting it back out, like a narration and decoding in real time.

Shawn gasps as Max’s balls start slapping against the back of his thighs. His arms begin to fail as the drives become more forceful.

“Lay back and put your legs up,” Max pants, unceremoniously unsheathing himself fully.

Shawn slumps against the floor and settles onto his back, pushing his legs up from the heels of his feet planted next to his hips. He grimaces as the fabric pulls and presses against his intimate areas, much too small to accommodate his painfully stiff erection. He goes to take his panties off, but Max’s hand stops him.

“You’re gonna keep those on,” Max instructs him firmly.

Shawn pouts and drops his head back. You move his skirt and panties out of the way and make a clear path for Max to push himself back inside. He wipes the residual lube from his hand and wrist onto Shawn’s asshole before plunging himself to the hilt.

“Fuck, you’re taking him so good, Shawn,” you praise as Max grips onto his hips for leverage. He thumbs at the lacy fabric around his cock and groans.

“Gonna take what I give him. He wants a man, he’ll get a real man,” Max says in a heavy exhale. He stares at the red smear of lipstick transferred from the base of his cock where Shawn had taken him into his throat. Each time he bottoms out it smudges and presses the color between them.

“I-I’m gonna come,” Shawn gasps.

“Fuck–yeah– yeah, gonna come in those fucking panties. Dick stuffed in those little panties,” Max rambles with labored breaths.

Shawn’s legs tense up as his pleasure crests. Max grabs onto Shawn’s thighs where the band of his stockings cut into his flexed muscles. Shawn lets out a strained moan as his cock jumps against the lacy fabric. A dark patch forms where his cum spurts out. A few pulses send some dribbling onto his scrotum and the crease of his thigh.

Max unloads with a choked yelp, taken by surprise at the intensity of his orgasm. He fucks into Shawn and is spurred on by his cock pushing his cum out of another man’s hole with each stroke. Max gives a few more sloppy thrusts before slumping on top of Shawn.

“Fuck that was so hot,” you breathe.

Max stiffens when Shawn wraps his arms across his back and skirts his fingertips at the nape of his neck. You smooth a hand through his hair next to Shawn’s, and Max relaxes. You all eventually untangle and get cleaned up. The conversation is a bit clumsy as the night comes to an end and Shawn says his goodbyes at the door. He gives you a quick, chaste peck on each cheek but stops himself before offering Max the same farewell. Instead, he opts for a quick rub on his arm and a thank you.

You both watch on as he makes his exit. You shut the door gently and breathe a smile at Max. He shoots back a happy, shy grin. “Happy birthday,” he says with a tender kiss. “Best birthday ever,” you agree before kissing him back.

If anybody is interested, I do have a face claim for Shawn. Idk how people feel about those, though.

tagging anybody who reblogged the last one or anybody who seems interested in dismantling homophobia

@survivingandenduring @bonezone44 @wannab-urs @heareball @boliv-jenta @morallyinept @perotovar

#kinktober #maxwell lord #pedro pascal characters

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buffaloappabites · 1 year

Text

You Right

Pairing: Shuri x Black!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut, Cursing, Fingering, Grinding, Terrible dancing, Cheating, Bisexuality

Summary: You’re at the club, all your friends left you, and your boyfriend is out doing god knows what. Running into the last person you thought you’d ever meet keeps the night from being a total waste though.

A/N: My irl boyfriend confessed to cheating so I wrote this in like an hour to make myself feel better idk, I hope you enjoy! Shout out to all the bad bitches w no rhythm!

It’s a late night at the club and all of your friends have wandered off with various men, leaving you alone to your own devices. You’d all decided to step out to celebrate your 23rd birthday, little did you know it meant everyone breaking off and leaving the birthday girl all by herself.

What kind of shit is that?

You could be at home cuddled up with your man tonight—-only recently he’d been doing nothing but getting on your fucking nerves. And you were 99 percent sure he was probably cuddled up with some other bitch.

So here you are, in the tightest black dress, the tallest heels you own, and you hair in the tightest box braids imaginable. You looked damn good as you enjoyed your drink from the second floor of the club, looking out over the dance floor at all of the sweaty bodies moving to the beat.

You’re having a good time, until someone comes up beside you, and you pray it’s not some creepy ass dude about to kill your vibe.

Luckily you were right.

Who you found occupying the space next to you was far more exciting. Standing next to you was the princess of Wakanda herself, Shuri. What the hell was she doing here? Next to you especially. You had to look up a bit to see her face, she had an easy going smile plastered across it, all of her perfect teeth on display, with a silver grill glinting in the club’s lights.

You couldn’t help but to smile back, I mean who wouldn’t?

“You look like you’re having fun.” she says, leaning in a bit closer so you can properly hear her over the loud music. In doing so you can smell her perfume, it’s very strong and earthy.

You don’t know if it’s the alcohol you’ve been drinking or her scent that makes you a bit lightheaded but you like it either way.

“This isn’t really my scene if I’m being honest, but I’m enjoying myself.” You respond.

She nods, and the back of your neck and cheeks heat up when she checks you out. You bite your bottom lip and decide to do a little looking yourself, letting your eyes wander. Going down past her strong jawline, over her tall, athletic frame covered by a well tailored black blazer. There’s a diamond chain link resting on her chest and you briefly wonder if it’s long enough to dangle in—-

Wait—-

Oh hell no! This is your fucking song. It’s Beyoncé’s In Da Club remix, you’re surprised they’re even playing it.

“Oh shit! I love this song!” You yell before you can stop yourself.

She laughs, showing off those perfect teeth again and asks, “Do you want to dance?”

“Mmmmm nah,” you say “Dancing’s not really my thing, I don’t have much rhythm.”

Which is true, you look awkward and stiff as fuck. It’s why you’d rather stand and look cute in the corner.

“Come on,” she says, grabbing your hand, “I got you.”

You can’t even protest, she’s already pulling you down the stairs and out onto the floor.

She starts dancing first, moving smoothly to the beat. She makes it look so smooth and easy.

“Let me see what you got!”

You begin to awkwardly move your hips and arms in an attempt to find the beat, but you can’t quite get it.

She laughs hard at you and you stop, about to pout.

“Aw, you’re adorable.” she says coming close, “Here. Don’t look down, or you’ll overthink it.

She grabs your hips and helps you move in time with her. You can help but to look down and she grabs your chin making you look up at her.

“Eyes on me, hm?” she says.

You’re staring into her brown eyes and she’s watching you, hands still on your hips. It’s becoming much easier for you to find the beat on your own, but you don’t want her to move away.

In fact you want her closer. Everything about her you find sexy, from the smile, to the clothes, to the body. You try to pretend to not notice the heated gaze she’s staring at you with, but it’s a wonder how you haven’t melted to the floor already.

The song has since changed, Your Right by Doja Cat & The Weekend blares through the speakers & everything seems to have slowed down a bit.

But neither of you move. Instead she’s holding you close, pressing up against you. She dips her head down, so her lips are close to yours. Her hands wonder from your hips to down your backside to your ass. You lean forward pressing your lips into hers and she wastes no time kissing you back, letting you feel her full, soft lips again yours. You lick and bite her bottom lip and she lets you slide your tongue in her mouth, where you can feel just how warm it is.

You both are still grinding on eachother, this time with no regard for the rhythm of whatever the hell is playing now. One of her lean thighs is set firmly between yours, and you’re grinding down on it. You’re falling apart at the friction and you want nothing more than for her to put those hands currently squeezing your ass to work.

She stops kissing you and you look up at her through heavy lidded eyes.

“Do you want to take this out of here?”

You can’t say yes fast enough.

Before you know it you’re straddling her in the back of a car. She’s kissing down your jaw, going lower and hitting that sweet spot near your collar bone. Her hands are on your ass cheeks, spreading them apart and sliding a finger over your wet pussy.

You’re having the time of your life, until your phone rings, breaking up the silence. You sigh and roll your eyes.

Not right now. You take it out thinking it might be one of your girlfriends needing help, but nope.

“Damn, is that your man?” Shuri asks, giving you a knowing look.

You can’t even lie, as your screen says clear as day, “Boyfriend 💕”.

Fuck. She shrugs and goes back to kissing your neck, and whispers in your ear. “I don’t judge, answer it.”

You obey and answer the phone, and he begins to prattle on about how much he loves you—-something he’d always do when he’d just finished cheating and felt guilty.

You weren’t really paying attention. You were much more focus on the lips attached to your neck and the slim fingers working their way into your panties. Once inside she slipped on inside of you, making you gasp a bit, it’s taking everything in your power not to moan out loud. She slides in another and begins to pump them in and out of you. Her brown eyes are staring into yours and you’re still lamely holding the phone to your ear.

Then he starts asking questions.

“Where you at?”

Your voice comes out shaky, “The club, on 2nd st.”

“With who? Better not be up there with no dude.”

You’re about to fall apart when she presses her thumb against your clit, disguising your moans as coughs.

“The girls nigga, damn I gotta go.” you say hanging up the phone. You let out a loud moan when you cum, grasping her shoulders and dropping your phone somewhere in the car.

She pulls a wet hand from your panties and begins to suck on her fingers. She offers you one and you take it, tasting yourself on her.

“So….” She says, “You tryna see my strap? It’s made outta pure vibranium.”

“You don’t even have to ask.”

#shuri x reader #shuri x y/n #shuri smut #smut #fanfic #wakanda forever #letitia wright #black panther #bisexual #bisexual reader #shuri udaku #vibranium strap #beyoncè #doja cat #song fic kinda #cheating #mcu smut #black!reader #shuri udaku x reader

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sweeter-innocence-fics · 2 years

Text

Learn To Love Again - Chapter Seventeen: Watching Porn Together

Pairing: Pietro Maximoff x Reader

Work Summary: You have a hard time letting go. Pietro helps you out. An exploration of kink with Pietro Maximoff. Each chapter from chapter 2 onwards will be a different kink.

Chapter Summary: Pietro gets sick and you watch porn together.

Series Masterlist

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2436

Read on AO3.

Masterlists.

Taglist: @ifilwtmfc @mcximffs @xlucyintheskywithdiamondsx @lanemarvels @maddieisbored @marrigold-2002 @kathrinchek @mrs-kai-anderson @ang3l1te @missryerye @strawberrysoldat @tayswozle @noz4a2 @rottenstyx

Taglist info.

Previous Chapter

Notes:

this chapter is kind of a sickfic, hints of bisexual reader, bit of anal fingering, Pietro and reader get the rest and relaxation they deserve

---

Pietro was snoring. He didn’t usually snore, but tonight, he was sprawled across more than his half of the bed, breathing loudly enough to keep you awake. Careful so as not to wake him, you gathered up his excess limbs and rolled him over onto his side. It helped a little, but every breath was still accompanied by a growl. You pressed a pillow over your head and went back to sleep.

When you next awoke, it was to the sound of rain falling on the cabin roof. You stretched and rolled over.

Pietro was holding his pillow tight against his chest. His eyes opened a crack when you moved.

“Morning,” you murmured, reaching for his hand. You found his palm unusually sweaty.

“Morning.” His voice was hoarse and throaty.

You frowned. “Are you feeling alright?”

“I’m-” He coughed, clearing his throat. “I’m fine.”

You pressed the back of your hand to his forehead. He felt warm, but then again, he always felt warm.

“Do you feel sick?” you asked.

“I don’t-” He interrupted himself with a loud, hacking cough. You rubbed his chest soothingly. “I don’t get sick. Because of my powers.”

“I love you, Piet, but that’s clearly bullshit.” You rolled over and got to your feet. He moved to get up too, but you put your hand on his chest, pushing him back down. He pouted at you in a comically childish way. “You hungry?”

“Not really.”

“You should try to eat something. I’ll bring you breakfast.”

He groaned, but it didn’t argue. You made him up a little tray with tea and toast and honey. When you returned to the bedroom, he was sitting up against the headboard. His expression brightened when he saw you.

“Breakfast,” you said, laying the tray across his lap.

He caught your hand and raised it to his lips. ��Dragă, you spoil me,” he murmured, kissing your knuckles.

“I think you deserve to be spoiled.”

In spite of his protestations that he wasn’t sick, he only managed half a piece of toast. That was unusual for him too. Normally his insane metabolism required a lot of food to maintain.

“Don’t want anymore,” he said when you pressed him, sounding more and more like a child. You took the tray away, and when you came back, you found him curled up again, his face in his pillow.

You let him go back to sleep. You were well aware of this phenomenon. Sometimes when you work so hard for so long, you collapse when it’s finally time to take a break. His body had evidently been fending off this illness for quite a while, and now that he had the time to recuperate, it had given up fighting.

While he slept, you did the dishes from the previous night. It was strangely soothing, this domestic feeling. You rarely ever did your own dishes at home. For a moment, you weren’t a superhero. You and Pietro were just a normal couple who did normal couple things.

Once the place was clean, you raided the cupboards for medicine. You found a clear plastic box of medical supplies in the bathroom cabinet, and began to root through it.

Given the type of person who would usually be staying in this cabin, it wasn’t a typical first aid kit. There were painkillers (you were pleased to discover that they weren’t out of date) and band-aids but there were also more heavy-duty supplies. Strong painkillers and gauze and industrial-sized tweezers. You grabbed a packet of regular painkillers and a bottle of cough syrup, and put the rest away.

Pietro was still sleeping. He was starting to sound very congested, so you put a box of tissues on his bedside table, along with a glass of water. You debated leaving the medicines there too, but you weren’t sure you trusted Piet to read the labels and dose correctly in his current state, so you left those in the kitchen.

The rain was still pounding on the roof, and there was a distant crackle of thunder. You made yourself another cup of tea and curled up on the sofa with a book.

You awoke several hours later to the feeling of the book being gently pulled from your hands. You looked up at Pietro blearily as he put the bookmark in it and set it down on the coffee table.

“How are you feeling?” you asked.

“Missed you,” he mumbled, insinuating himself into your personal space. You opened your arms to him and he lay down on top of you, his legs between yours and his face on your chest.

“I’m right here,” you murmured, stroking his hair.

“I think I’m sick,” he complained.

“I told you!”

The rest of the day was spent lazily curled up on the sofa together. You periodically fed Pietro cough syrup and tea in the hopes of making him feel better, but the thing that actually seemed to help was burying his face between your boobs and clinging onto you like a koala.

He tried to kiss you on the mouth a few times, but you pushed him away.

“You’re going to make me sick,” you mumbled, and he groaned.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” You wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead.

The next morning, Pietro woke earlier than you did. The sounds of the shower running mingled with the rain outside. Under the sound of running water, you could hear him singing. You lay there, listening until he turned the water off.

He emerged looking a little better. The colour was back in his cheeks. His hair was damp and pushed back out of his face, and he was wearing clean pyjamas.

“Morning,” you said, arching your spine as you stretched out like a cat.

“Good morning.” He was smiling down at you fondly. “Can I have a kiss this morning?”

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m feeling like I’ll feel much better when I’ve had a kiss.”

You sat up and beckoned him towards you. “One kiss,” you said, holding up one finger.

Pietro knelt on the bed and cupped your jaw, tilting your face towards his as he pressed his lips to yours. You could smell toothpaste and aftershave.

After a moment, you pulled back. His blue eyes were glinting with mischief. Before you could say anything else, he kissed you again and then backed away, smirking.

You wiped your mouth, trying and failing to look annoyed. “I said one kiss.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, not looking very sorry. “You just looked so delicious I had to steal one more.”

“You’re an excellent thief.”

His lips curled upwards. “I’m glad you think so. I’ve spent the past year trying to steal something very precious.”

You pulled back the bedcovers and swung your feet over the edge. Pietro’s eyes were on you as you got to your feet. You didn’t miss the way they darted downwards to the strip of skin on your lower stomach that revealed itself when you stretched.

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

He crossed the distance to you instantly, placing his hand right over your heart. “This.”

“It’s already yours, Piet.” A smile was spreading across your face, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t fight it. He was looking at you like you were a sunrise, and your heart almost couldn’t take it.

His hands went to your waist, bunching up the fabric of your t-shirt. He pressed himself against you. You could feel that he was half-hard through his pyjama trousers.

“Nuh-uh,” you said, pulling out of his grip. His face fell. “You’re still sick!”

“I’m feeling better!” If you hadn’t been paying attention, you might’ve missed the way he swayed slightly on his feet.

“Not better enough,” you said, pushing him backwards into the living room. “Sit down. I’m making breakfast.”

“Fine. I guess I’ll deal with this,” he gestured at his crotch, “myself.”

“Okay, babe.” Slightly bemused, you went into the kitchen and began gathering the ingredients for bacon and eggs. You jumped slightly at the sound of a loud, exaggerated moan. A woman’s moan.

Curious, you abandoned breakfast and walked around the counter to where Pietro was sprawled out on the sofa. He had his cock in one hand, and he was slowly fucking into his fist. His eyes were closed.

In his other hand was the TV remote, and on the screen was a video of a woman being fucked doggystyle. The man was pulling her hair and she was whimpering and moaning. In spite of yourself, a hot burst of arousal erupted in your lower stomach.

“How did you find porn that quickly?” you asked.

Pietro opened one eye to look at you, smirking. “It’s a gift.” Your eyes followed the movement of his hand as he touched himself. “Is there a problem?” he teased.

Heat rushed to your cheeks. “No problem. I think it’s healthy for people to take care of themselves sometimes.”

“Is that right?” He let go of the remote and slid his other hand into his boxers, presumably to fondle his balls. He tipped back, a serene smile on his face. On the TV, the man flipped the woman over and pressed his hands into the backs of her thighs so that her knees were almost to her ears.

Pietro looked good right now, with his damp hair and his biceps moving under the sleeves of his pyjama shirt. So you made a choice. You moved over so that you were standing between his legs and sank to your knees.

His eyes snapped open. You rested your hands on his thighs and looked up at him through your lashes, giving him a coy smile.

“Do you think she’s prettier than me?” you asked sweetly, nodding towards the woman on the TV.

“No one is prettier than you,” said Pietro, cupping your face.

“Right answer.” You tugged his pyjama trousers and boxers down so that you had more room to manoeuvre.

His pubes were freshly trimmed. He normally liked to keep himself pretty neat down there, but that had fallen by the wayside a bit recently. Personally, you didn’t mind either way. You wrapped your hand around the base of his cock and licked a stripe all the way up to the tip.

“Fuck,” he murmured, stroking your hair behind your ear. You teased him with your mouth, doing little kitten licks before dipping your head to suck on his balls. “You’re so good at that. Did you go to blowjob school to learn how to do that?”

You pulled back to look at him, trying not to laugh. “Blowjob school? Is that your idea of dirty talk?”

He huffed. “Maybe I’m a little delirious. Probably from the cold medicine.”

“I forgive you.” You giggled, and then angled his cock towards you again, wrapping your lips around the head.

As you sank down, taking him all the way into your mouth, he said, “Wait.” You pulled off him again, a trail of spit connecting your lips to his cock. “I don’t think I have it in me to go multiple rounds right now and I really want you to come watch this with me.”

“Watch porn with you?”

“Whatever porn you like. I want to see what you like.”

You stood and he passed the remote to you. His eyes were on you as you typed a couple of words into the searchbar and found a video that looked appealing. The lights were low and a beautiful man with messy, sandy curls was tongue fucking a woman with big tits. Her thighs were wrapped tight around his head, and her head was thrown back in pleasure.

“Come here,” murmured Pietro, although you were already half in his lap. You knew what he meant. Wordlessly you pulled your t-shirt off over your head and shimmied out of your panties. He removed his pyjama shirt and kicked off his bottoms. Still facing the TV, you straddled his lap in reverse, your legs bracketing his thighs.

With his hands on your hips, he guided you down onto his cock. Watching Pietro jerk off had left you embarrassingly wet. As his cock pressed against your entrance, you let out a deep groan. Sinking down onto him, you tipped your head back, pressing your back against his chest.

“Good girl,” he whispered, his lips right against your ear.

On-screen, the couple had moved on. He was fucking her now, with rough, messy thrusts, and she was rubbing her own clit. The room was filled with the wet slapping sounds of skin meeting skin and her deep moans.

“She’s hot,” said Pietro. “Do you want to be her, or fuck her?”

You shivered. “Maybe a little of both.”

“Mm.” He kissed the back of your neck. You were rocking steadily against him now, his hips coming up to meet every thrust. His hand slid over your hip and down your stomach, smoothing over your mound until it found you, wet and spread wide for him. Insistent, steady circles on your clit had you gasping.

The couple on the TV had transitioned to doggystyle now. He was pulling her hair hard, pumping one finger in and out of her asshole. You felt Pietro slide his free hand between your cheeks and press a tentative thumb to your puckered hole. Your pussy fluttered at the sensation.

“Can I?” he murmured.

“Yes.” Your voice sounded strained, desperate. He hadn’t made it past the first knuckle before you were cumming. Your hips stuttered, rutting back down against him. He kept thumbing over your clit and probing at your asshole until you began to whimper, at which point he brought both hands back to your hips.

He fucked up into you for a few more thrusts, and then you felt the familiar warmth of him releasing inside you. His forehead came to rest between your shoulder blades.

Carefully, he slipped out of you. You were practically boneless, limp against him. He pulled you backwards, trying to lie down with you, but you shook your head. You could already feel his cum dripping out of you.

“We’re going to make a mess of the sofa,” you said, and without another word, you found yourself in the bedroom. Pietro pulled you firmly against his chest and kissed the top of your head. It was your turn to be clingy.

You awoke a little while later with a scratchiness in your throat. You hit Pietro with your pillow, jolting him out of a doze.

“What?”

“You made me sick, you asshole!”

Next Chapter: Consensual Non-Consent

#pietro maximoff x reader #pietro maximoff smut #pietro maximoff x you #pietro maximoff fanfiction

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literallyjustanerd · 6 months

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Disparate Hearts (Herahsoka angst)

Ahsoka Tano deserves to be bisexual. That is all.

Summary: What she and Hera have, it’s not about feelings. It can’t be. Still, despite all her Jedi training in emotional repression, she can’t help how she feels when they’re together. The headrush she gets when she undresses Hera, or the catch in her throat when Hera laughs into the crook of her neck. Life is never easy in the Rebellion. Throw in some complicated feelings and a messy friends-with-benefits situation, and it's downright unbearable.

Word count: 2,628

Hera had come to her again last night. As always, Ahsoka had felt her before she’d seen her. Her presence blossoming in the Force at the edge of her awareness, a breeze on a summer’s day, bright, strong and clean, moments before the knock at her door. Still elbow-deep in wiring trying to repair her navicomputer, Ahsoka had opened the door with a flick of her wrist. Neither of them spoke as Hera crossed the cockpit, a familiar look in her eye. Ahsoka paused, then let go of her work. Hera had kneeled down beside Ahsoka, and the two of them locked eyes for only a fleeting, pregnant moment before Hera had leaned forward and pressed her mouth to Ahsoka’s.

Tonight, Ahsoka’s limbs feel like malfunctioning circuit boards. Heavy, stiff, lagging. Blood sluggish through her veins, yet restless and twitchy all the same. She shifts again, adjusting her meditation stance, but still she cannot get comfortable. The long journey to Hoth has left her drained, and knocked her sleep cycle out of rhythm. No matter how she tries, the peaceful fog of meditation eludes her. An exasperated sigh pinches her shoulders high. Master Obi-Wan would have reprimanded her for that, for allowing her frustration to overcome her to the point of physical expression.

Master Obi-Wan isn’t there.

Giving up for the night (or morning? She hasn’t yet adjusted her chronometers to Hoth’s time cycle) she rises on protesting legs and trudges to the kitchenette. She doesn’t know what she’s come for until she’s opening the cupboard door. At the back of her pantry, behind her waning rations, there’s a small, metal tin. A modest coating of dust obscures the planetary crest on its lid. Ahsoka leaves the dust undisturbed as she opens the tin and scoops out the tea leaves inside. Just enough left to brew a single cup.

They’ve never talked about it. Ahsoka thinks that might be for the best. She’s convinced herself of it, anyway. She would rather not entertain the nagging thought that things are just easier when she and Hera both pretend there’s nothing there to talk about at all. It’s easy enough to ignore, most of the time, with everything else they have to occupy them. Ahsoka turns her head down to the countertop to see two empty glasses, still with fingerprints and blood-dark droplets haunting the rims.

She looks away.

They had always been friends. Or as close to friends as their circumstances would allow, while Ahsoka was working under the Fulcrum alias and Hera had her hands full trying to run a rebel cell and raise two teenagers at the same time. They’d grown closer once Ahsoka had begun to shed the cocoon of her anonymity and join the fight more directly. Closer still after Lothal. Hell, Hera had asked Ahsoka to be with her when Jacen was born.

Steam billows upward to warm her breath as she pours the boiling water. From the corner of her eye, Ahsoka catches sight of a hickey on the ridge of her collarbone.

Closer. Too close? Not close enough.

Hoth is a miserable place for the rebellion to have moved. Ahsoka wraps both hands around the cup of tea, trying to stave off the chill that turns her fingers clumsy. The first sip goes down smooth, though she chokes on the memory it brings up. Gingerly, she reaches down to thumb away the dust on the tin, chest seizing with a dozen unbidden emotions at the words underneath.

Raada Farming Alliance.

There was a time, brief as it was, that Ahsoka drank this tea daily. Its deep, earthy flavour brings her gasping and thrashing back, nineteen years and a lifetime ago. A child, directionless and afraid, her days spent looking over her shoulder and reaching desperately at the past. Until she’d arrived on Raada, and a girl with a smart mouth and a defiantly gentle heart had dragged Ahsoka kicking and screaming back into life. Had slowly but surely turned Ahsoka Tano from a barely-surviving shell into someone who rose in the morning to stretch and make tea before starting the day.

The Empire had still come for them, of course. Raada had rotted from the inside out under its grip, and Kaeden had lost friends, family, along with her home. The evacuation had cost them dearly. Still, after Kaeden and her sister had been brought to Alderaan, she had found it in herself to send Ahsoka off with a parting gift - her favourite tea, grown on the farming planet before its soil had turned to sand and its people reduced to refugees.

“It won’t spoil, even if you forget about it,” she had said, as though she were speaking about something entirely different. Ahsoka didn’t know how she could keep talking at all through the electric shock where their hands touched. “It’s good now, but it only gets better with time.” Ahsoka knows now that she had wasted an opportunity that day. Like a thousand more in the months before their farewell. Kaeden’s words to her on the day she’d been rescued from the Imperial compound are seared into Ahsoka’s mind, even all these years later.

“I could kiss you.”

The stifling, paralysing fear she had felt in that moment was not new to her. She had felt it before, whenever Bariss had sat too close to her in lessons at the Temple. And she had felt it since, on the night Hera had first kissed her. Wine-drunk and feeling far younger than her years, the two of them swapping stories under the stars on Yavin IV. Hera’s eyes catching starlight, her fingers combing soft through grass. The feeling of want like great waves crashing against a cliff of can’t. Or shouldn’t.

But Hera had. She’d bridged that gap, and pulled Ahsoka across with her when she laced their fingers together and cupped a hand on her cheek. And like watching a comet dissolve into stardust, that fear had changed, turned to something greater. Something even more disorienting.

She had felt that before, as well. For a brief, beautiful moment all those years ago, Kaeden Larte, with her loud, singing laugh and hearthfire smile, had felt like that. She had felt like home.

And… Hera?

Ahsoka sips from her cup of bittersweet memories and lets her gaze wander to her bunk, eyes tracing the folds of the mussed, untidy sheets. She feels phantom breath on her neck, slow and even from sleep, and she steels herself against it. Her throat burns when she swallows down unsaid words, sticking like nettles in her throat. Whatever it is she and Hera have, it’s not about feelings. It can’t be. To break the silent pact the two of them have made now would be taboo.

Still, despite her Jedi training leaving her perfectly adept at emotional repression, she can’t help how she feels when they’re together. Can’t help the headrush she gets when she undresses Hera in her bunk, or the catch in her throat when Hera laughs into the crook of her neck.

She can’t help how she feels when she hears Hera sigh Kanan’s name as she reaches for Ahsoka in her sleep.

Stifling a groan, Ahsoka presses the heel of her hand to her temple. Even with the meagre warmth of the tea in her stomach, there’s no point trying to sleep, or even to train or meditate. Ahsoka throws on an overcoat, pulling the hood low over her montrals, and braces against the biting chill outside. Even through the hangar door, she can hear the wind howling like a swarm of Umbaran banshees, as unnerving as it is annoying. She’ll be glad when her business here is finished and she can get out as quickly as she’d arrived. It’s dark, the base lit only by the barest utility lighting. Just enough for the skeleton crew on night shift to work by. It reminds her of being aboard the Resolute, on the nights where her nightmares kept her from sleep and she would wander the halls aimlessly. At least back then, she would always eventually find her way to one clone trooper or another who was willing to indulge her with company and conversation, and not reprimand her for being out of her bunk past curfew. What she wouldn’t give right now, to find Rex on the bridge, or Fives and Echo in the armoury, or Kix in the medbay. Her memories begin to sour, as they always do when she lingers too long on the clones, and she looks quickly for something to fill the space.

Senator Organa is still expecting a report on her last operation. Hardly urgent, but it will suffice as a distraction. Her mind will be easily occupied enough trying to decide how much to divulge in her report, and which parts she will need to strategically leave out. The Hidden Path had to remain more than just a name, by necessity. Bail’s resources and connections were immeasurably helpful, but for now it’s still best if he doesn’t know all the details. Discretion is a virtue in these times.

Hera knew nothing of her activities outside of rebel command. Perhaps Ahsoka might feel guilty about that, if she wasn’t sure that Hera kept her just as far in the dark. It’s a given part of the strange, fragile dance they have fallen into. Both of them have secrets, neither knows the full extent of the other’s activities, yet they trust each other anyway. By choice, by ignoring every impulse to the contrary. By keeping themselves busy with things other than asking questions. It’s better this way, Ahsoka tries to remind herself. Better, safer to keep some distance. The thought rings just as hollow as it always does.

On the far side of the bleak, dim cavern, the makeshift comms centre stands, little more than a barely-insulated tent, some scrappy chairs and whatever long-range comm devices aren’t entirely broken down. Ahsoka expects it to be empty at this time, but to her surprise there is light leaking through the cracks in the tent. In the corner, bleary-eyed and hunched over a desk, Captain Alexsandr Kallus taps methodically at a datapad, blond hair falling in strands into his face, turned pale blue in the sickly neon light. In only a moment Ahsoka decides to enter anyway. She knows Kallus, in a roundabout way. Her successor as Fulcrum, an Empire defector. Not the kind who will bother her with questions or small talk. He doesn’t look up until Ahsoka sits at a few spaces down from him, the chair’s creaking protests bringing him out of his trance. “Workaholic,” Ahsoka smirks, with no real venom behind the word. The corner of Kallus’ mouth twitches, one eyebrow raising a half inch. As close to a smile as anyone could get from him. “Or,” he counters, “I’m the only one here willing to actually get anything done."

Nothing more is said. Nothing more needs to be said. Ahsoka sets up her own datapad and opens her unfinished report. They work in companionable silence for a time, and the quiet monotony gradually begins to ease the tension in Ahsoka’s chest. Soon enough, her mind feels closer to her own grasp once more. When Kallus rises, Ahsoka worries for a moment that she’s about to be left alone again, leaving space for her more unwise, tumultuous thoughts to claim her once more. But he returns only minutes later with two mugs of caf, setting one wordlessly down beside her before he returns to his desk. She gives her thanks in a simple nod, and drinks deeply, though she’s never liked the taste.

Passing on the Fulcrum name had never been in the plan. She had never intended it to become a legacy. But out of anyone, Ahsoka is glad that Kallus had been the one to take the mantle. She feels a certain kinship with the man. He understands the isolation that comes with the job, perhaps better than anyone else would. So many months, he had lived a half-life, feigning loyalty to the Empire. Ahsoka imagines he must know as well as any fugitive Jedi what it’s like to live without ever closing your eyes or taking a full breath

And, of course, it helps that Captain Kallus is just as much of a lonely, repressed bastard as she is.

The Empire and the Jedi Order aren’t so different in that way, she notes over another sip of acrid, burnt caf. Kallus had been through a long, arduous journey to make the transition from staunchly loyal Empire agent to fierce rebel. They had spoken about it only once, not long after he had finally made his escape. Ahsoka had shared, at least partially, her own experience in the Order, the questions she had come to ask, the contradictions and outdated doctrines she couldn’t justify in her mind. It seemed to resonate with Kallus. The greater mission always above the individual. The glorification of loyalty, the shunning of personal feelings. Whether by design or by happy coincidence, they kept their members too confused and ashamed of any new feelings to ever attempt to explore them.

She and Hera had been entangled for so long now. So many months of biting her tongue, snatching back her hand, wrenching her gaze away when all she wants to do is let it linger on Hera’s smile. So many months of second guesses and warring emotions. She wavers frenetically back and forth, sure in one moment that Hera feels nothing for her beyond camaraderie, and convinced in the next that she too can sense the presence of something deeper. For the past five minutes, Ahsoka’s fingers have been tapping out and erasing nonsense on her datapad, fidgeting idly while her mind wanders further astray. A familiar thought surfaces from the roiling depths: She should stop this. For her own good and Hera’s. It would be a mercy killing to the strange, unnatural thing growing between them. It would be simpler. Easier. She could make her peace with spending her nights with people like Kallus instead of entangled with a body that was too warm and too close and still out of reach despite digging fingernail-marks in her back. A promise, then. A resolve to turn Hera away the next time she appears, to resist the next time Ahsoka’s feet try to take her towards the Ghost. Perhaps this time, she’ll keep to her word.

Beside her, the sound of an incoming comm draws her attention. Kallus blinks down at his wrist a moment before his eyes drift back into focus and he answers, turning away from Ahsoka. Nonetheless, Ahsoka can still hear the tinny voice through his commlink, thickly accented and gravelly from sleep. “Kal? Darlin’, where’d you go? ‘S the middle of the night. I swear, if you’re kriffing working right now…" It takes a beat for Ahsoka to realise that the soft hum Kallus gives is a laugh. “I’m sorry, love. Couldn’t sleep.” “Well, we’re both up now. Come back to bed, yeah?” “Okay, okay. I’m on my way.”

Ahsoka recognises that voice. Captain Orrelios? Well. Seems she’s the only lonely, repressed bastard around here after all.

The transmission ends. Ahsoka pivots her gaze back to her datapad just in time for Kallus to look to her, giving a shrug and a somewhat apologetic smile before gathering his things and leaving her. The silence is heavier now, too heavy for her to bear for long. She doesn’t make it ten more minutes before she’s retreating back to her ship, questions circling her head that she wouldn’t dream of asking aloud.

Two days later, Hera finds her again. Ahsoka doesn’t hesitate a single moment before letting her in.

#herahsoka #hera x ahsoka #sw rebels #ahsoka tano #hera syndulla #sw rebels fic #drabble

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noses-in-winter · 1 year

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In Which Dr. Lawrence Sheldon Must Face His Sneezing Fetish (m/m, sneeze kink)

Howdy, all, I come bearing another fic featuring the glorious OCs of @virarushi ! This is my official drop of one of my main OCs, Dr. Lawrence (Lor) Sheldon who is a stammery, jaded, awkward nerd with allergic rhinitis that leaves his nose perma stuffy. He also has a huge sneeze fetish that he's always tried to repress to the best of his ability.

Do YOU like boys making each other sneeze? Do YOU like repressed nerds? Do YOU like tusks + sneezing? Then THIS is possibly a fic for YOU!

Anyway please don't reblog to non-kink blogs, thank you!! This is messy, bisexual and horny, be warned.

He had started nodding off on the trampoline again, hadn’t he? Shit. Everyone else had gone in already. Who else came tonight…? Ugh, he forgot. All Lawrence’s swampy, drunk mind knew was that it was only he and Alexander left out stargazing on the trampoline.

And, of course, he knew that Alexander had been sneezing...a lot.

Lor looked up. Quivering, damp nostrils were the only things he could focus on at the moment. Well, that and a pair of tusks, exposed in a ticklish snarl and only becoming more and more evident as Alexander geared up for what looked like had to be a hell of a sneeze. Lor’s reaction may have been a bit more appropriate were he not stupid drunk. Instead of getting the pack of tissues that he knew were in his back pocket, Lor simply reached out a hand to place on Alexander’s shoulder. It jumped with one hitch, and then another--

“Hidd’tch!” Alexander buckled into his handkerchief, bouncing the trampoline slightly with the force. Oh. Not the ‘hell of a sneeze’ Lor had expected, but still decently strong. Something in him still knew the strong one would be coming eventually, though.

In this case, ‘knew’ may have been synonymous with ‘hoped’.

Alexander sniffled blearily after that sneeze. He let his head loll back on the rubber of the trampoline, looking like he was ready to continue the conversation they had been having a moment ago-- “Hh-!”

That second sneeze still needed to make an appearance, though.

“Hihhd’scht!”

There it was.

“You’ve been sneezing a lot,” Lor murmured before he could properly process the statement.

Alexander snuffled, rounded nose being visibly rubbed back and forth in the handkerchief. It was only when he looked up that Lor realized that had been said...out loud. Alexander’s lashes fluttered once, seeming to be more from sleepiness and drink than a need to sneeze. He finally lowered his handkerchief, but had evidently been unable to get his nose as clean as he might prefer. “Yeah. Yeah, I have, haven’ I?” Alexander murmured, nose scrunching with a dragging sniffle. He turned his head to squint over at the picnic bench that held their drinks. “...Maaaay’ve grabbed your acorn wine by m’stake...stuff’s magic as magic gets, I s’pose? An’...tastes like the regular stuff...a-ahhhhn’ all…”

Lor nodded slowly, eyes still fixed on his friend’s nose as it scrunched back and forth. Alexander winced and buried his nose right back into his handkerchief, clearly not done chasing this tickle off. “Sdf, ugh… Augh, gods… hihh!... ugh…”

He could only watch, transfixed, as Alexander rubbed slowly at the tip of his nose. Deliberate. Urging. He saw the pudgy domes of his nostrils, red and twitching and flaring as he seemed to…rub the tickle out of them?

“Hh’ktch! Hh’eschuh! ” Alexander sneezed into his handkerchief, one right after the other. Well...not quite all in his handkerchief. The guy couldn’t help a bit of release escaping where the cloth hadn’t yet covered his nose completely. He quickly snuffled and went to start mopping up his nose. That’s how Lor knew that Alexander was drunk, too. Normally, he couldn’t imagine the gnorc just giving Lor a clear view of this...process.

“Bless you,” Lor said on an exhale. “Uhm. Did you...uh, did…” He could barely even say the words. “Did you...rub that one out?”

Oh. Oh. Oh, and now Lor was thinking about Alexander rubbing one out, in the traditional sense. Both that and his nose. At the same time. Oh. “Um. Sorry. I-I mean, make yourself…” Alexander didn’t seem to be making any connections here. Lor just awkwardly continued on. “....Snneeeeze…?”

Ah! There was recognition on the gnorc’s face. “Sdf…yeah, y’ve gotta sometimes,” he said dazedly with a nostril scrunching sniffle, “when the ol’ gnome nose just won’t let’cha be done yet. So, ya just give ‘er a good rub like…”

No handkerchief this time. Alexander was just rubbing the tip of his nose with the flat of his hand. He went in a slow, sleepy swirl. Then, his nostrils started flaring.

“A-...Alexander?” Lor murmured.

His nose scrunched, and breath quaked, but he hardly seemed to notice. “Like… Hh..hheh--! L-Like thi--...hihh...”

“I-I-If you do that, you’re gonna…”

Lor acted impulsively, as he did frequently when drinking. He shot his hand out to snatch Alexander by the sleeve, fingers curling easily around his friend’s much smaller arm. His thumb connected with his middle and ring finger easily. Lor pushed Alexander’s forearm up to his dripping, teased nostrils, just as another two sneezes--- “hadt’zzzschoo! Haht’izzschhoo!” -- barrelled out of him.

Lor had successfully gotten Alexander’s cardigan to cover his nose, though...with his closed hand right in the way. Alexander snuffled with his eyebrows twitching sleepily together, eyes completely shut in the aftermath. He used the same forearm--and therefore the back of Lor’s hand--to rub his nose into. Alexander’s nostrils instantly flared when the sensitive tip was rubbed against the stationary hand of his best friend, and not the plush material of his cardigan. His brow furrowed with the instant need to sneeze, though he was evidently not aware of what was against his nose.

“Hhhnn…?” Alexander murmured once before the weight of that tickle set in. He could barely hitch once before Lor yoinked his hand back. With all the brains of a half-trained monkey, Lor took Alexander’s nose instead. Thumb on the dome of one nostrils, index and middle finger on the other. Was this dumb? Yes! Did his drunken, idiot mind know any other way of keeping Alexander from sneezing disastrously? It wasn’t like Lor …minded. But, ah, it would be best to preserve Alexander’s dignity the best he could, right? And, just like that, he pinched Alexander’s nostrils shut mid-flare.

Alexander took in three quivering breaths that ticked his shoulders up a little higher each time. There was a long pause...and then his breathing slowed all together. The sneeze had mostly been scared off by the surprise of Lor’s sudden move. Alexander blinked dazedly for a moment before pulling back slowly out of his friend’s hold. Lor expected for Alexander to be embarrassed, or at least offended, but...

“Heh...thanks, Lor,” Alexander chuckled blearily with the cutest tusked grin that Lor had ever seen. He buried his nose into his handkerchief yet again to wipe up the evidence of this brief sneezing spell. He tried, anyway. Again, didn’t have a handle on the entire thing right now.

Was it extremely...cute? Attractive? Augh, something, that Alexander was just unable to realize what a mess he was right now? “B-...Bless you,” Lor gulped, hand held against his stomach. Saturn’s rings, he felt like he had just waltzed off a crazy rollercoaster at the county fair.

“Thagks,” Alexander said again with a congested little snort. When he spoke again, his voice was much less stuffy. He relaxed into the rubber of the trampoline as it continued bouncing just slightly after that brief fit of his. “Hoooh. Kerlin’s coins, Mi’rah would love how much this d--snf--dimension makes me sneeze…”

Lor furrowed his brow. Alexander had mentioned Mi’rah before, sure, but...what was that about her, and, uh, sneezing…?

Alexander needed no prompting to continue. “She has the loveliest sparkle in ‘er eye when I feel--ah...felt a sneeze comin’ on, y’know. Sweet Mi’rah...I hope she’s got a nice someone around who’ll let her play with their nose.” He sighed and looked up into Lor's eyes. Lor couldn’t get himself to look away. “I could sneeze real easy for her and all. I mean...I was practically made for the job. Gnomes, we sneeze at the drop of a hat. Hardly a challenge, and she would always be happy with the results…”

After several seconds of processing, Lor spoke again. “She...she liked it? When you were sneezing?”

“Mhmm. Such a cute little kink, I think.” Alexander paused to stop and giggle at his rhyme. “Easiest thing in the world to entertain her.”

Was Lor only just now realizing what this thing of his was? A kink? Yes! And Alexander had...experience in this area. Christ alive. “Uh,” Lor murmured, “What sort of things did she…like seeing? I-I-I-If I can ask.”

“Ohhhh...” Alexander hummed before giggling again, bringing a curled knuckle up to rub back and forth beneath his nose. His smile was just as fond as it always was when he brought up happy memories to Lor. “‘Course you can ask. Mmm...where do I begin? Big fan ‘a just watchin’ when I felt a sneeze comin’ on. Wasn’t too rare when I spent time in her room. Biscuits made sure of tha’.”

Oh, yeah. Biscuits. Mi’rah’s cat. Just...hanging around, surely. Lounging on the bed. Rubbing up against pant legs. Shedding. “Uh, wh-...ahem, wh-what sorta thing was her...y-ya know. Favorite to watch?”

Lor figured a sober Alexander would have had a keen enough eye to tell that he was sweating bullets and keeping his hands held tight to his chest. This tipsy and magic-filled Alexander was far less observant. The gnorc’s bright green eyes were hardly focused, but they were still aimed in Lor’s direction. “Mmm...lemme see...she really jus’ liked noses for noses’ sake, too. Really liked it when...Well, I’m sure you can see how much I can get my nostrils to flare…”

He tilted his chin up to demonstrate fully. Lor felt an instant jolt of lightning to his gut. Alexander gave them two, and then three impressive nostril flexes. He had to sniffle back a running nose then, but didn’t have nearly the comprehension that might have been there normally. “She--snf--would tease me about how they’d scrunch and twitch, but...‘tween you an’ me…”

Lor gulped as Alexander leaned close to him. Alexander sniffled and got the most secretive smile on her face. He winked at Lor. “I added a liiiiiittle drama to it when I could. Extra flarin’ and quiverin’. Got her tickled pink, heheh. And tended to just t--hih--tickle me more, too…”

Every molecule in Lor’s body was desperate to say…something. Anything. All he could do, however, was blink at Alexander in a slow, mystified daze. What an enchanted life Mi’rah had to lead. Having someone (nobody in particular!) around all the time who...who let her toy with his nose--

“Ahh, that maaaay have been too...what’s the term? TMI? May’ve been too that...” Alexander said with a sheepish little wince. One nostril scrunched up with another budding irritation. He sniffled and knuckled the side of his nose, one eye squinting against the stimulant. “Should…snf, get m’self to be--”

“I think I have that, too.”

Alexander stared at Lor. It took Lor several seconds to realize that had come from his own mouth. Alexander blinked slowly, his rubbing motions frozen at the side of his nose. Slowly, he lowered his hand and...chuckled. Just barely. “Heheh. So sorry, Lor. I’ve clearly had far too much to drink, ‘cause it sounded like you were tryin’ to say you…”

Alexander seemed to be expecting Lor to shake his head and say ’of course not!’ in response to this insinuation. Alexander waited for that moment to come. When it didn’t, he continued with another unsure chuckle. “Say you, heh, had the same lil’ kink as dear Mi’rah.”

Lor could have pretended to fall asleep. Or need to run to the bathroom. Or have an asthma attack. Yet, here he was, face to face with a guy whose nose was…clearly quite used to some tampering.

Again, he gulped. “...I-I dunno,” Lor said quietly, pushing his glasses back up on the bridge of his nose. Every word felt like its own deep, dark confession. Despite his best efforts, Lor could only let his gaze flicker between Alexander’s eyes…and his nose. Alexander’s eyes… and his nose. “I, uh...k-kinda find myself thinking about that sorta thing a lot. And feeling that...sorta thing...when other people do that...sorta thing? I never realized it was a…thing. I-I just thought I was weird for noticing something like that.”

Alexander was still squinting, slowly putting together a toddler-sized 8-piece puzzle of a puppy in his mind. His eyes were on Lor’s before sloooowly crossing to look at the tip of his own nose. It twitched with the attention. Apparently, Alexander’s tipsy brain convinced him he was being subtle, because he immediately cleared his throat and spoke casually. “Oh? What...sorta thing? A-And what...sorta people? If you don’t mind me asking…”

“No!” Lor quickly said with a shake of his head. “No, no, I don’t mind. And, uh...what sorta thing…?” Hmm. What sort of thing did he find himself particularly drawn to?

“Hh--heh!...”

Oh. Alexander already seemed like he was about to have another sneezing spell. He snuffled and rubbed his nose in that same back-and-forth motion. Still, Lor spoke, though his voice cracked a bit more than he was happy with. He watched Alexander’s curled knuckles all the while.

“Well.” Good a start as any! “I, uh...always seem to be staring when somebody...really rubs their nose a lot...”

Alexander’s nostrils flared against his knuckles.

“I-I don’t notice right away. Notice myself noticing, anyway. Kinda just get transfixed, ya know? Especially when they, uh...look like they’ll be sneezing any moment now. And when they do--”

These sneezes were too wrenching for Alexander to contain. He barely sucked in one quavering little hitch before pressing the back of his hand beneath his nose. This...did not create the cover that he clearly had hoped it would. “Hadht’szzchoo! Ht’esschhoo!”

Lor’s stomach flipped. “L-Like that,” he said, voice little more than a wobble. Lor regretted the words an instant later. He squeezed his eyes shut immediately so that he wouldn’t have to see Alexander’s complete look of disgust that had to be coming. “Hhnn. Sorry. Sorry. That was weird. That was really weird, right? F-Forget I said it, I’m just...drunk, and dumb, and…”

There was no recoil. No tone peppered with discomfort. Simply Alexander taking in one long, dragging sniffle before speaking.

“...Lor, it’s alright.”

Alright? How could it be when he’d just confessed to thinking his best friend sneezing was...aughhh, Lor couldn’t even think it in his own head. He slowly cracked his eyes open to look at Alexander’s reassuring little smile. His nose ran slightly still, gravity doing its work by urging the drip to go a direct 90 degrees from Alexander’s offending nostril. He remained facing Lor, lying on his side.

“You might be just as drunk as I am, but you’re hardly stupid,” Alexander said with an ineffective sniffle. “Kinks are perfectly harmless. ‘Specially this one. Geshtianna’s garter belt, you heard how fondly I just spoke about Mi’rah’s preferences, right?”

Lor kept his gaze down. He studied every button of Alexander’s waistcoat. “...Well, yeah. But she was your girlfriend, she was supposed to be attracted to you.”

“...Oh.”

Lor could tell from that ‘oh’ that he must have said something either very right, or very wrong.

“I, ah...heh. Didn’ realize you were of a gentlemanly persuasion, yourself, Lor.”

He wasn’t! He couldn’t be! Liking women was distracting enough on its own, but adding guys to the mix…? Lor would have loved to debunk this thought immediately, but…hoo, Alexander’s nose and his eyes and tusks and aughh his nose--

“Uh.” Lor’s expression tugged into a reluctant smile. If anyone wouldn’t shame him about this, it was probably Alexander, right? “...Yeah. I-I must, I guess? Because when I, uh...When you’re… I feel…? A-And Mi’rah must have had quite the college experience, heh, just based on the little bit you just told me…”

Alexander was quiet for a long enough time to make Lor worry. Just before he could ask if this had been a mistake, Alexander spoke. Lor couldn’t bear to look at his face.

“...Lor. Stop me at any time, a’course, if I’m g-getting any of this---sdf--wrong… But, if you’re sayin you’d like--?”

“Yeah.” Lor swallowed hard and looked back up at Alexander, chewing at his bottom lip with nerves. “Yeah. Uh. If you--? But, I mean, I guess, why would you...But, if you did, then...y-yeah. You can...ya know. Show me everything you did for Mi’rah…? To, uh...keep you practiced, and all. For when you get back to her.”

Once again, the cutest smile curled the corners of Alexander’s lips. “...Heh. Keep me practiced indeed,” he hummed with a tilt of his head. “Everything, you said?”

Lor felt like the air in his lungs was suspended in time. “Everything,” he repeated with a nod.

It was common knowledge that Alexander could romance the hell out of whoever he wanted. Maybe not common knowledge, but…evident. It seemed to be the easiest thing in the world for Alexander to wrap his fingers around Lor’s wrist and draw his hand upward. “Here we are…” Alexander said with an inebriated little smile. He brought Lor’s hand to linger just before his rounded gnome nose. “She always loved just...givin’ it a lil’ push, whenever I had to--...”

He trailed off, tusks exposing themselves in a quivering little sneer. Lor could tell that Alexander was making a valiant effort to keep from sneezing. With a deep breath, Lor followed Alexander’s urging. He set his index and middle finger just at the tip of Alexander’s nose. The little push alone made his breath snag, but Lor took it a step further by sloooowly rubbing Alexander’s nose in a circular motion, just in the way Alexander had earlier. Lor watched as his jaw dropped lazily. Just as they had a few minutes ago, Alexander’s nostrils flared with the attention. His chest quaked with the impending sneeze.

“...I-I think I always wanted to do this,” Lor murmured.

A smile had just barely started to twitch at Alexander’s trembling lips when the sneeze took him over completely. He fanned uselessly at his nose for a few breathy seconds before pulling back from Lor’s hand. Alexander buried his nose into his wrist, sneezing powerfully-- “idht’IZSCHoo!” -- in a rapid-- hgh’izschhuh!”-- trio-- ”hh’yissschoo!--...Ugh.” Alexander wobbled in that aftermath. Lor took him by the shoulder.

“Bless you,” Lor breathed, cheeks burning just as much as they were before. “You… Uhmm. Y-You’re really good at this.”

“Th--hih! Thank you…” Alexander sighed into his handkerchief, sniffling with a dragging heaviness. He looked at Lor through teary eyes. The moment his handkerchief was gone, there was an evident little grin on his face. “Snf...That’s the sorta thing she’d do first…”

Lor gulped for what had to be the hundredth time. “What, uh...wh-what about what…you’d do?”

Lor himself didn’t really know what he meant, exactly, with that question. Alexander seemed to, though. He raised his eyebrows thoughtfully and regarded Lor before him. “...Well, snf...better ask wha’ you’re up for, first.”

“Anything.” The answer came out of him before Lor could even fully process Alexander’s question. “Wh-Whatever you...did for her, you can…do with me. Y-You can even go a...a little further. Maybe a lot further? If...you want...I, uh...” Deep breaths, Sheldon. “You can...do whatever to me. W-With me. Whichever.”

Again, Alexander had his finger on the pulse despite his wobbly reaction to the booze and magic both. He was pushing himself into a side-sitting position immediately. Alexander seemed quite dizzy initially, taking several seconds to reorient himself. Once he had, Lor found himself with a hand just to the right of his shoulder, pressing into the trampoline. “I certainly want,” Alexander said quietly. In an instant, he was...not quite straddling Lor, but keeping himself held up with one knee on either side of Lor’s waist. Alexander didn’t sit just yet. He looked down at Lor through encouraging, teary eyes. He sniffled, and the results were more than visible to Lor at this angle.

“I’d...keep her held just a lil’, like this. She was a good foot taller than you, Lor, so...experience was a lil’ different, I’d say, but just as nice. If this seems…good to you--?”

“Yeah,” Lor said quietly, eyes wide as he looked up. “Yeah, it’s. It’s good. Th-This is really good.”

Alexander needed no further prompting than Lor’s breathy encouragement. He eased down, straddling Lor completely. Lor swallowed and shut his eyes against the rosy blush consuming his cheeks again at feeling Alexander just…on him. He was small, of course, and lightweight, but that was hardly what Lor was focusing on right now. Alexander sniffled with a bubbling little sound to it that sent a delighted chill racing up Lor’s spine. Just then, he reached to tuck one lone lock of hair behind Lor's ear. With his hand still lingering there, Alexander’s breath snagged.

“I-I’d…straddle her, an’...” That sneeze was really torturing him. Alexander absently let his head loll back, slender chest rising and falling with each tickling breath. He reached up, firmly palming the underside of his nose. He sniffled in rapid succession, expression shifting into that sneezy blankness that Lor had come to anticipate. And, just like always, it led into a…. “Ihdt’szchhoo!”, smothered into his sleeve. Once again, the trampoline bounced slightly beneath them. Alexander’s thighs only hugged Lor’s waist tighter. One soupy sniffle later, another… “hhah!adt’izzdchoo!-- Oogh…”

Hooo. All of that was mind-blowing, but the breathy little moan after that second sneeze… Lor knew it was that showmanship that Alexander had mentioned, but maybe that’s what made this so...fuck, he could say it. So hot.

“Bless you,” Lor murmured in a shivering exhale. “Y-...Y-You’re really...really hot right now. I-Is that...okay to say?”

Alexander’s dark eyebrows shot upward in surprise. He lowered his sleeve, nose a drippy red. He gave Lor the sleepiest, most sultry smile that the taller one between them had ever seen. “More than okay. I live to please, you know. An’ th--hih! Thank you…” Alexander said with a congested sniffle. Immediately after, Alexander reached down to feather his fingers in the curls at Lor’s temple. The touch sent another shiver through Lor’s body. “Pardon tha’…sdff, interruption. To continue….I would touch her gently, after tha’...She loved her hair being toyed with. May I take a guess that you do, too, Lor?”

Of course, Alexander received an eager nod in response. He smiled and leaned down closer, one hand coming to lightly hold Lor’s bicep. “Sometimes she liked a bit more, though, if she was really in the mood...Buttons coming undone, you know, and little kisses to her neck...Sometimes I’d just nuzzle her right….” He traced the simplest little circle on Lor’s neck. “...here, with my nose. Get her all fluttery. Lor, if you--?”

Again, he nodded. Lor felt he was outside of his own body as he reached for Alexander’s bicep right back, tugging him closer. That sealed it for the both of them. Alexander’s nose was soon nestling at the most sensitive spot on Lor’s neck. Lor gave one shivering little gasp as Alexander huffed a chuckle. The soft warmth of Alexander’s nose trailed down Lor’s neck and to his clavicle. It was only when his nose was just barely starting to nuzzle at the collar of Lor’s shirt did a hitch shake Alexander’s body. Lor should have kept his mouth shut, but fuck. This was hot. This was so, so, so, so fucking hot.

“I...think you’re gonna sneeze,” he said with the most sheepish little exhale.

Alexander nodded slowly and hitched against Lor’s neck again. “H-hih! How could you t-hehhh-tell?” he asked in the cheekiest little whisper. He snorted with a scrunch to his nose that Lor could feel occurring just beneath his chin. “I certainly hope I don’t--don’t--snff-- don’t sneeze while I’m still...t-tangled up with you...hih! Hehh--!”

The kitchen light flipped on. The glow filtered out into the backyard, just barely missing Lor and Alexander’s spot on the trampoline. They both froze. Even the sneeze was scared out of Alexander’s nose in what Lor knew had to be a fizzy, unsatisfied feeling. Quick as a whip, though, Alexander rolled off of Lor to flop right beside him on the trampoline. The moment they were in the clear, the irritation in Alexander’s nose decided to come back with a vengeance. He was hardly able to say one word to Lor before his bottom lip quivered audibly through a snagging breath-- “Hehtzzchuhh!” he buckled with a sneeze aimed toward his chest, but absolutely caught Lor’s arm in its misty release. Alexander tried to sit up, but could only sneeze himself back down after just one gulping hitch. “haHH’dzzzschoo!”

Another sneeze was nearly there when Lor sat up himself, setting one hand on Alexander’s back while the other was held out in case he needed to stabilize himself somehow. Lor wasn’t the strongest guy alive, but he wanted to at least try to keep Alexander steady. As if by reflex, Alexander desperately took Lor’s proffered hand before squeezing it just a bit tighter as that third sneeze finally tumbled out of him without mercy. “Hhh!hadtszchhoo!”

His nose was a wreck. Dripping mercilessly into his lap and twitching still. Alexander was barely able to keep himself sitting, much less notice said wreck. Lor was about to try to find that handkerchief for Alexander before his friend took in a heady, high-pitched gasp that sent him wrenching with another uncovered sneeze---”ahdt’ZZssshuh!”-- that...well. Did, to his credit, completely rid himself of that steady drip from his nose. Seemed like Alexander had sneezed the remnants away for the moment. “S--hih! Sorry,” Alexander breathed, expression still a tickled snarl. “Sorry. Fuck, sddFF, ugh…”

“Bless you,” Lor said, giving his hand one slow rub where it sat on Alexander’s back. Alexander shivered immediately and leaned back into the touch. He opened his eyes blearily in Lor’s direction.

“Thank you,” Alexander breathed...

...Just as Emmaline came out onto the deck. “Oh, you two come in!” she called, robe wrapped tight around her. “I didn’t even know you were out here! I was just about to go to bed, but I saw your rooms were empty. You’ll freeze out here, silly boys! Alexander, you’re already sneezing yourself straight into bed.”

Whose bed? was Lor’s only thought.

Alexander sniffled desperately, finding his handkerchief and drawing it to his nose. “Right, Emmaline! We were just about to head in!” he called with a voice perfectly practiced in the art of assuring others that he was completely fine. His voice was congested, sure, but just as convincing as ever. “You head to sleep, by all means! We’ll see you in the morning!”

Lor could see her pout from this distance, but Emmaline eventually nodded and stepped back inside. “Alright, my loves. Rest well!”

“Y-You, too!” Lor was finally able to call out. He didn’t manage to breathe until Emmaline had closed the sliding glass door and disappeared back down the hallway. Only then did Lor let out a shaky exhale. Fuck, what had he been doing? He was dumb, he was so dumb for being so ridiculous, and…

“Thank you....”

Thank you?

“For, sddfff!...h-helping me sneeze…” Alexander said in the flirtiest little hum as he nestled his nose against Lor’s shoulder. The tip rubbed slowly back and forth against the fabric of Lor’s fluffy turtleneck. Alexander’s nostrils twitched in response. “You know how I’ll, sdff, be sneezing a while yet...I won’t keep you up, will I?”

Lor had his hand on Alexander’s waist before the gnorc could even finish that question.

“Can you?”

They were scurrying for the deck without another word.

#sneeze kink #sneeze fic #friends ocs #oc lawrence

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