#the tag has been a mess lately so here some positivity

[bby-deerling]

sunshine of your love (law x reader nsfw)

law overhears you talking with ikkaku and takes notes ;^)

18+, mdni, nsfw, wc: 3.4k masterlist

cw: afab!reader, virgin law, masturbation, oral sex (reader receiving), voyeurism kinda, teasing, law's kinda weird but he means well, friends to lovers, ikkaku is your girliepop, virginity loss, law is cocky, law is also a dork, alcohol consumption, hangovers

tagging: @willowbelle @sanjisjuul @eelnoise @kaizokuniichan @risenwrites @ragethebunny @mirillua @sanjisprincesswifey @atanukileaf

This was all a cruel joke—a way for Ikkaku to silently torture him as punishment for finally giving her a roommate on the submarine after all these years—at least that’s what Law tells himself as he listens to the conversation bleeding through too-thin walls into his bedroom.

The two of you had been drinking fairly heavily judging by the volume of your giggles and the way your words slur as you swap stories of escapades, some good, some bad, but mostly mediocre.  Truthfully, he couldn’t care less about what Ikkaku gets up to in that respect, but when you speak, he hangs onto every word; the conversation is filthy, beyond explicit, and he now has a tantalizingly crisp image in his mind of exactly what gets you off and what doesn’t, and as drags his hand down his cock, he convinces himself that despite his lack of experience, he can give you what you crave.  Part of him felt terrible for touching himself to something as innocent as you talking with your friend, but when you were describing what you like and don’t like in bed in so much detail, what else was he supposed to do with himself?

A lull in the conversation leads to Ikkaku coming up with some silly hypotheticals.  “Alright, here’s one for you—fuck, marry kill: Shachi, Law, and…” she says, pausing for a moment while she thinks of a third option, “Me!”  A pair of giggles echo through the wall when you immediately respond with a kill Shachi; if Law weren’t busy picturing you splayed out beneath him, he probably would have let out a snort of amusement too.

“Fuck you, marry Law.” you say decisively.  Law lets out a hiss as he wills away the inadvertent image that pops into his head of Ikkaku on top of you, pleasuring you in the way he wishes he could—in the position that he should be in.  Marry Law.  The words bounce around his brain, driving him wild with the prospect of you not just wanting him once out of passing curiosity, but wanting him all the time.  He’s wanted you so much, for so long, in every conceivable way, contriving excuses at every turn to spend more time alone with you, and lo and behold, here you were fantasizing about a life with him in your free time.

“Marry Law?” she balks incredulously, “You’re still on about that?  I thought you got over that little crush you had—” Law’s hand stops stroking momentarily as Ikkaku’s words send him reeling.  Feelings.  You had feelings for him; he had wormed his way into your heart just like you had burrowed into his, and all of a sudden, he’s fisting himself with renewed vigor, propelled by the notion that if he plays his cards right, he’ll have the real thing sooner than he could have ever imagined.  Images of you float through his mind as electricity courses through his skin—you by his side, you curled up in his lap while you flip through a novel, you laying face down as he fucks you into the mattress—each one carried the same weight of eroticism as he pictures the near future with you.

“I can’t help it!” you exclaim, far too loudly, but you were much too tipsy to be cognizant of the fact that Law’s bedroom was right next door, and despite his night owl tendencies, it was far too late to be lurking elsewhere on the submarine.  “We’ve been spending so much time together and he just turns me into a flustered mess!  He looks at me and has this look on his face, and I just—ugh, I need him!” you lament, causing Ikkaku to laugh at your plight and tease you further.

Rambling on, you say much more, about how much you cherish your time together, and wax poetic about how you feel a quiet kinship like him, as if he knows the contents of your soul without having to disclose them, but Law was still focused on the frustrated whimper you had let out when you said you needed him, replaying the words in the back of his mind like a broken record until he spills warm seed all over his hand.  Guilt washes over him for disregarding your words of gushing adoration in the moment while his mind was preoccupied elsewhere, but he atones for his disrespect by ruminating on your tipsy ramblings as he drifts off to sleep.

The other half of my soul, you had said with a dreamy sigh—they were the exact same words that roll around his head whenever he thinks of you.  Though half asleep, he concocts a half-baked plan to execute in the morning, sleepily setting his alarm to ensure he doesn’t miss his window of opportunity.

Law slips into your bedroom with a glass of water, a couple pieces of toast, and four-hundred milligrams of ibuprofen the moment Ikkaku leaves in the morning.  Though he had only gotten a couple hours of sleep, the excitement flowing through his veins as he makes his way towards your room intent on subtly making his feelings known with a small gesture overpowers any exhaustion. Completely covered in your blankets from head to toe, the click of Law’s heeled boots against the floor prompts you to pop your head out from underneath, a dusting of red coating your face.

“For the hangover.” he says plainly as he sets the plate and glass on your nightstand.  As you sip on the water, he takes in your lips and messy hair and weighs his options and contemplates taking an additional risk with you beyond simply hanging at your bedside for a bit of light conversation; despite how tipsy you had been last night, you’re now more parts pleasant than irritable and dizzy, and cute as a button as you thank him for going to the trouble of bringing you the light breakfast and medicine.

“It’s no trouble.” he insists, staring at you for a moment before committing to the urge in his core that keeps telling him to sling a teasing remark your way.  “Besides since you want to get married so badly, I figured I should start taking better care of you.” he says with a smirk as he sits at the foot of your bed, masking his nerves with an aura of feigned confidence, behaving as if he’s made himself comfortable like this dozens of times.

He observes your reaction carefully, searching for any sign of disgust at him for eavesdropping as you turn red from head to toe; instead, he only finds mortification plaguing your face as your gaze turns downward towards your blankets.  “I’m so sorry, Captain—” you squeak out, though before you can apologize further, he stops you, and you become acutely aware of the way he’s leaning in a bit closer to you, his hand nearly grazing the side of your leg.

“Why? Are you taking it back?” he asks; his expression is unintentionally blank as he focuses on analyzing the emotions on your own face.  In turn, you find yourself unsure of whether he shared your feelings or was simply teasing you for being so brazen and loose-lipped while drunk.

“Only if you’re uncomfortable—” you start, but your voice falters and halts when his hand rests on your thigh and a devilish smirk graces his face.

“Do I look uncomfortable?” he teases, inching closer as he watches a flood of relief crash over your features, releasing your nerves with a shaky exhale.

You shake your head.  “No, Captain.” you reply softly, inwardly cringing at the way you’d used his title out of habit.  He lets out an exhale of amusement and gets unbearably close, hovering over you as the tension hangs thick in the small space between you.

“You need to relax.”he whispers softly, “Let me help you with that.” He hesitates for a moment before cautiously pressing his lips to yours.  Law freezes for a moment before pulling away, admiring the half-lidded look in your eyes; playfully flirting with you while packaging his words in a coating of plausible deniability came naturally to him—the game of slowly pushing the envelope was fun for him—but kissing you, feeling you, and being on top of you were all novel and exhilarating new sensations that send him into a whirlpool of swirling nerves.

After listening to you complain about past experiences, he doesn’t want to disappoint you—he doesn’t want to fade into the back of your memory as another lousy story to tell.

As he gently coaxes your lips back to his, he runs through the laundry list of bad kissing habits you and Ikkaku had agreed upon last night: don’t clash your teeth against hers, don’t slobber in her mouth, don’t go crazy with the tongue.  It seemed simple enough, and to an extent it was, as each muffled noise you make against his lips helps him learn, improve, and plan his next step, but everything from the press of your lips to the swirl of your tongue was so foreign and alien to him that he nearly forgets to take notes on what he likes in the process.

His hand creeps upward to cradle the side of your face—it was something you had said you adore, and the sweet, content noises you let out indicate that you were underselling your affection for the motion, if anything; however, what he doesn’t expect is to feel the flush of warmth that covers his face when you mewl against his mouth.  He likes making you vocal, he decides, greedily soaking in each little bit of affection and praise you offer him as he slowly picks you apart.

I love getting my neck kissed so much—bites, licks, all of it.  Words from last night echo in his head as he presses his lips in a trail down towards the sensitive column of your neck.  The simple touches of his mouth along your skin are enough to make you squirm and whimper softly underneath him, giving him the confidence he secretly needs to sink his teeth into your flesh with an intent to mark you.

“You like that?” he purrs in your ear between nips of his teeth and swirls of his tongue against your neck.  “Mhm…” you whine out, causing him to let out a small growl as he sucks at your skin.  Satisfied with the bright red mark that would no doubt turn purple later, he lets his hovering hips fall, reattaching his lips to yours as he grinds his clothed cock into where he was approximately sure your core was underneath your sheets, and is gratified when he feels your legs spread slightly so he can feel a bit more of you.  Succumbing to a haze of lust, Law is nervous but hungry for more—so much so that he becomes afraid of pushing things too far and pulls himself away so he can get a read on your pulse.

Your gazes lock together as you ask each other a silent question—how far do you want to go?  A slight tremble courses though his hands; everything was seemingly happening all at once, but the tension between you had been building for months, and he can’t help but want to let everything spill over in this moment.  He’s afraid to ask for too much and scare you off, but he’s filled with so much need that it makes him shake as he stares down at you, your lips still moist and kiss bitten.

“I want you, Law.”  you whisper, the words traveling like tiny wisps that linger in the air.  With a small sigh of relief, he’s resolved to give himself to you, give everything to you and lays the foundation in his head for a coarse path to reach that goal.

And then he moves your sheets, with the intention of being able to press himself closer to your body, and is thrown for a loop.

“Do you normally sleep without—” he stutters, unable to get the rest of his sentence out as he becomes transfixed on your bare lower half.  He can’t resist letting one of his inked hands travel downward and rest along the curve of your hips as he takes in the expanse of bare skin, the tufts of wayward hair above your sex, and the hints of slick arousal that have began to creep along your inner thighs.

“No.” you say with a shake of your head, blushing furiously.  Averting your eyes from his, you swallow hard before continuing.  “I was… y’know…” you mumble, trailing into nothingness out of embarrassment from your admission, hoping it wouldn’t scare him off.  Peeking at his reaction reveals quite the opposite as he gives you a feral grin, gears clicking together as he realized why you were hiding under your blanket when he entered the room.

“Couldn’t stop thinking about me, hm?” he hums teasingly, lips nearly grazing your earlobe.  The ghost of a sensation makes you twitch, and he purrs with satisfaction at being able to make you squirm without even touching you.  “Do you always think about me when you touch yourself?” he asks, letting his hand wander before resting his thumb on your needy bud, tracing light circles onto it, your words about hating when someone is too rough with it sitting clearly in the front of his mind.

“All the time…” you whisper as your back arches up off the mattress; the soft patterns he traces along your sensitive clit make you whimper for him, and the tone of your needy sounds nearly make Law cum on the spot.

“So do I.” he mumbles, the words distant on account of him being consumed by his task of working you up with his fingers.  He contemplates going down on you, haphazardly pushing your shirt aside and kissing his way down your body, paying your tits some extra attention along the way, but he has absolutely no clue what to do beyond the theory of it all.  Asking for assistance was out of the question—not when he was trying so hard to impress you enough to convince you to tether yourself to him permanently, not when he is so dead set on making sure you don’t realize that this is his first everything; looking incompetent in front of you was not an option, in any sense of the word.

And so, he takes a deep breath and decides to learn through doing.

Now, face settled between your legs, he was truly out of his element.  More overheard guidance from the previous night floods his head.  Keep your tongue flat and lick from side to side.  Don’t fake a ton of obnoxious noises while you do it.  It’s okay to roam a little, but keep your attention on the clit.  He cyclically runs through each one of your preferences in his mind as he drags his tongue across your bud, instinctively picking up on the right pressure, the right patterns based on your reactions—it’s like a puzzle for him, though instead of clicking pieces into place or filling out a crossword, he’s slowly turning you into a squirming mess with his mouth.  If he were any less drunk on the sensation of making you fervently writhe against him, he’d be thrown off by the way you snap your hips harshly along his tongue, doing more work than he feels you should be doing, but he’s simply awestruck by how pretty you look when you’re so intently focused on getting off.  You seem so close, and, desperate to do something to push you over the edge, he grips your thighs tightly, making his best attempt at replicating your description of how much you said you enjoy it.

To his pleasant surprise, it works.

And when you come crashing over the edge, with white-hot intensity, he can’t help but slip his tongue inside you, wanting to feel every bit of your arousal on his tongue and experience the way your walls spasm—he wants to feel you coming apart and study it for future reference.  You’re gorgeous, with your knuckles twisting and clutching at your bottom sheet, and your face blooming with heat.

He's been so singularly focused on pleasing you, on proving himself and protecting his ego, that he had put his own needs on the backburner, but seeing you glowing, needy, and all for him makes him unable to wait any longer to have you.

Unbuckling his pants, freeing his cock, and lining himself up with your entrance, he's about to slide his length inside of you, but something makes him instinctively pause; he’s not quite sure what’s making him hesitate, until he remembers.

You like to be teased.

He presses the smallest bit into you before withdrawing, making you let out a sigh of frustration.  “You want it?” he coos playfully, smirking down at you when you grind your hips towards him in vain.

“Please, Law…  I need it…” you whine, slightly pouting your lips out at him.

Please.

“Then take it.” he whispers lowly as he bottoms out inside of you, hiding his burning face in the crook of your shoulder as he’s flooded with another wave of novel sensations.  Pride swells in his chest upon hearing you beg for him, plead for him to take you; the feeling is intoxicating, so much so that he nearly forgets that he doesn’t quite know what to do once he’s fully sheathed inside of you.  Flailing for only the briefest of moments, he does the only thing he can think of—stop thinking so much, for once.

He acts on instinct, capturing your lips with his and swiping his tongue along your bottom lip clumsily as he rocks his hips into yours, trying to keep his strokes slow and even to prevent himself from getting too overwhelmed before he even truly starts.  Soon enough, he regains his head and gets bolder, using your sounds and reactions as cues to make sure he’s barking up the right tree; the more decisive he is with his movements, the more you respond, and the better he can get a read on you.

But right now, he can’t see your face, opting instead to bury his own into the crook of your neck, scattering any patch of skin he can reach with kisses and love bites as he gives you surer, more intense strokes; just when he thinks he’s ascended to the truest form of a higher plane, completely dissolved into something intangible and forever mixed with you, he feels you do something that drives him even more wild.  It’s paradoxical, how much he loves it when you wrap your legs around him; he so badly wants to be caged in by you, an eternal mess of tangled limbs, but the action is so intimate, so comfortable that it sends him spiraling unbearably close to the edge.

“Where do you want me to—” he rasps, unable to spit the rest of his words out as the way he buries himself deep inside you makes him gasp sharply.

“Anywhere.” you reply, the word dipped in layers of lust.  He laments his inability to last longer, but the way you fit around his cock like a tight glove combined with the pretty, fucked out look on your face makes him unable to keep his composure.

A slew of whispered curses fall from his lips as he pulls out and spurts ropes of hot cum onto your lower stomach.  Mesmerized by the look of his seed spread over your skin as he catches his breath, he takes a few moments to fall back down from space before planting a kiss on your lips.

“Thank you…that was… wow.” you say quietly with a smile, mind still scrambled as he haphazardly wipes you clean with the tissues that sit on your nightstand.

“Thank yourself.” he replies teasingly, pressing kisses along your collarbone as he settles in bed behind you, “You’re the one who gave me the detailed instructions.”  His words make your cheeks flush as you nuzzle into his touch, his hands lacking their usual chill as they trace patterns into your skin. 

“My other half.” he murmurs gently into your ear, in a hushed tone so quiet that you nearly think you’ve dreamt it.

A soft, lazy smile drifts onto your face. “My other half.” you echo, lacing your fingers with his and pressing a kiss to his knuckles before nodding off back to sleep together.

#one piece x reader #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law smut #law smut #law x reader #trafalgar law x you #law x you #trafalgar law x y/n #law x y/n #one piece fanfiction #one piece smut #one piece scenario #trafalgar law #x reader

[oepionie]

BELOVED BAT-WIFE. lilia vanrouge

Characters: Lilia Vanrouge x Fem! Reader, Platonic! Sebek x Fem! Reader

Synopsis: Lilia's wife makes an impromptu visit at NRC. Sebek is dragged into this mess and has to help her sneak into the campus.

A/N:: This is the first fic I've written in years!

Tags: Fluff, Established relationship, Maybe a bit OOC?, Reader is not Yuu and is said to be a mage

Word Count: 800+|💌Masterlist | Batwife masterlist

"Lady Vanrouge! When you told me you planned to visit, this wasn't what I had in mind!" Sebek hissed, staring at you through the gate's frame. He responded to your SMS asking him to meet you at the school gates as soon as possible. Despite the fact that it was two in the morning, he ran to your position right away. How he arrived in under 10 minutes is remarkable.

"I did say it was a last-minute decision." Shaking your head, you pulled the hood to your robe up and slipped on a pair of leather gloves. Indeed, you did send Sebek a letter to inform him of your plans beforehand. Leaving out the fact that you planned to sneak in like some petty thief.

"Now hold this gate steady for me, ok?"

Sebek's eyes practically sprang out of his head when you started climbing the tall gate. He yelled at you to be careful as he grasped the gate with both hands, firmly grasping the metal bars. You easily climbed to the top and laughed as you tossed yourself to the opposite side. Shrieking, Sebek ran to catch you, nearly toppling over from the force.

"Nice catch, my boy!" You grinned, patting his shoulder and setting yourself down. Sebek heaved, kneeling over and pressing a palm over his chest to calm his racing heart from the stunt you just pulled.

"You-Lady Vanrouge-!" Sebek started. "You're a mage! Why would you do that!"

"Teleporting or flying would definitely be easier…but that's boring~" You drawled, a cheeky grin on your face.

"Now, which way is that mirror again? It's been ages since I last set foot on this campus-literally!"

You linked both your arms together and began to pull the boy towards the academy, ignoring any and all of his complaints.

"I really think we shouldn't be doing this." Sebek muttered, begrudgingly pushing the doors to the mirror chamber open. You both slid inside, the door behind you closing with a snap.

It was already late at night, and the moon shone through the windows, its light reflecting off the mirrors. You took a step closer to Diasomnia's portal, tracing the engravings on its frame.

Had they changed parts of it? You noticed certain details that were not previously present.

"Well, too late to back off now. You're making me start to think you don't actually want me here." You pouted, shifting your gaze to Sebek's rigid body beside the doorway. He jumped and dashed over, his cheeks flushed pink.

"Of course I do, Lady Vanrouge! Your presence is always appreciated! I only wish you had chosen safer means to visit!" He yelled, his booming voice practically rattling the walls. Chuckling, you ran your fingers through his hair before patting his head.

"I jest. Now, let's not keep them waiting. Shall we?" You clasped Sebek's hand with your own and stepped into the mirror.

A blur of colours hit you for a moment before you found yourself whisked away to the dark brooding castle Diasomnia calls a dorm. Standing atop the cobblestone steps, you took a deep breath. The air was thick with smothering moisture, like a fog.

The dim light of a window in the distance drew your attention. Among the many windows in the castle, it was the only chamber that was lit up.

"O-Oh? Is someone still up at this late hour?" You wondered, still light-headed from the teleportation. Sebek placed a hand on your back to stabilise your wobbly form. "Ah yes. That's probably Master Lillia, he tends to hold gaming sessions at this hour."

"Is that so?" You huffed, brows furrowing as you glared at the window. "...That damn bat."

Of course, this wasn't news to you. Silver frequently wrote to you about his father's long gaming sessions, which sometimes lasted days or even weeks. Just as you were about to march up to the castle, an arm wrapped around your chest, pulling you back.

"No need to look so mad, dear." A deep voice lulled.

Behind you two, Lillia appeared with an impish smile on his face. Sebek flinched before greeting Lilia vigorously while maintaining a stiff posture of attention.

"Good evening, Sebek! Would you go and get Silver and Malleus for me? This is going to be a lovely reunion." Lillia spoke, crossing his arms over his chest. He was perched upon a nearby tree, hanging off one of the branches.

"Yes Sir!" With that, Sebek was off, dashing towards the castle.

With a frown etched onto your face, you turned your gaze back to the fae who was still upside down. Lillia hummed, leaning forward to press his lips against yours. "Hello there, beastie."

"Still pulling the same old trick, I see." You grumbled, grabbing his arm to pull him down. Lillia smushed his cheek against your shoulder, peering up at you through his lashes.

"It's a classic of mine, isn't it?"

Likes and Reblogs are greatly appreciated and really motivating on my end!

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #lilia vanrouge #twst lilia #sebek zigvolt x reader #sebek zigvolt #twst sebek #twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland fluff #diasomnia #silver vanrouge

[healmydesires]

I wanna hear you say my name (j.m)

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

summary: Your shower is still broken and you’re on your period, leaving you a frustrated mess. Thankfully, Joel is here to help you out, in more ways than one.

word count: 5,1k

genre: fluff + smut (kinda filthy idk) (mdni 18+)

tags/warnings: pretty new relationship but the feelings are established, age gap (reader is in her late 20’s, joel is in his early 50’s), soft!joel, dom/sub dynamics, soft!dom joel, sub!reader, menstrual mentions, menstruation, period sex, piv sex, vaginal fingering, multiple orgasms, creampie, shower sex, some breeding kink, overstimulation, size kink, praise kink, lots of pet names… like an insane amount.

a/n: the title is inspired by the song touching by v. cartier. I reeeaaally recommend that song, it’s so good. I’m literally obsessed with his music. tbh all of my fic titles are lyrics from my fave songs. anyways!! this is direct part two of / same universe as “forever in your eyes”. obviously you can read it on its own but it has some details from the other fic. another self indulgent piece… always wanted to write about period sex 😭 anyways I know it’s not everyone’s cup of tea but I hope you enjoy it <3

ao3

The soft knock on your door has you groaning, struggling to roll from the spot on your couch you’d occupied for most of the time since you’d arrived home from patrol. Your mood is heavy as you wonder who would have the audacity to disturb you while you are finally in a position you are comfortable in. You’re feeling quite literally exhausted and in so much pain. You feel like your uterus has been constantly kicked in. There’s nothing more frustrating than having your period. At least it feels like it’s the most frustrating thing in the world right now.

As you take a peek in the peephole of your door you see your grumpy but soft neighbour — that is also since recently your boyfriend, standing on your front porch. The man that you’ve been in love with for months.

“Joel!” You croon excitedly as you open your door for him. Without hesitation, your arms automatically wrap around his chest and your body flings itself into his as he steps into your home.

“Good evening to you too,” He chuckles warmly at your display of affection. He dotes a soft kiss against the crown of your head, his broad body enveloping you in a tight hug as he wraps his arms around you. “You’re so cuddly tonight.” He smiles down at you as he tries to release his strong hold on you to get a better look at you. A loud whiny, wordless protest leaves your lips as he tries to let you go, complaining as he shifts away from your tight hug.

“I’m sorry, it’s that time of the month.” You mumble before borrowing your head into his chest again. He hums as your arms grip against his waist, diving under the soft fabric of his flannel, refusing to let him budge an inch away from you. “Besides, what’s wrong with hugging the man I love?”

“Nothin’ wrong with it. Just an observation.” He chuckles as his hands come to cradle your head, then pressing soft kisses to your forehead. Butterflies erupt in your tummy at his affection. Joel knows you well enough to know there’s more going on. “What’s wrong baby?”

“I hate that I can’t take a shower because the shower head is still broken and I feel dirty right now. I have been using my sister's bathroom for a week now and I hate that I always have to come disturb her.” You groan as you continue to hide your face in his chest, heat rising up in your face at your embarrassment.

“Sweetheart, look at me.” He asks softly, as he shifts his body slightly from yours. Slowly you look up into his eyes as your bottom lip pouts outwards. He chuckles as he shakes his head amusedly at your expression. His palm comes to lace over the curve of your jaw, thumb rubbing over the pouty twist of your lips. “How about this? You come to my place, use my bathroom, maybe stay the night and I’ll come fix your shower tomorrow? That way you’ll feel a bit better tonight.”

“Okay, I’d love that.” You nod slowly as you bite your bottom lip with a shy smile, loosening your grip on his body. “I do need to get some stuff first though.”

“Alright darlin’, go get everything you need. I’ll be here waiting for you.” He winks at you, making you heat up with warmth before you sprint upstairs.

—-

His arms are cradling you softly, your back pressing into him and your head falling lovingly against his chest as you’re being held in his bed. His hands shift to the front of your stomach, palm expanding to rub lovingly over your belly in an attempt to soothe your pain. Just having him with you is somehow easing the grumpiness you’d been feeling all day. The warmth and tenderness of his embrace makes you feel a lot more relaxed.

“Thank you… I’m happy that I’m here.” You advise with a timid smile as you move your head to look at him, letting him know how truly joyful you felt when he came to check up on you. “I am grateful to have you.”

“Anythin’ for my sweet girl.” He whispers before he presses soft kisses to your temple. His head tilts lower, the curve of his lips coming to rest against your ear. “I’d do anything for ya.”

His fingers slip lower, caressing your pelvis, his touch becoming a bit more intimate. Your cheeks heat up at the action, leaving you a bit flustered at his touch. Despite everything, despite the fact that you wanted to cuddle a bit before heading in the shower, the hormones are acting up. His touch feels heavenly to you.

Your hands move to grip his, interlacing your fingers together, squeezing them.

“Joel… we can’t.” You whisper, your breath hitching. You slowly turn around in his hold, looking at him bashfully. “I mean… I do want to. I just. It’s like there’s a crime scene between my legs.”

“Hmm… doesn’t mean much to me.” He mumbles before his lips move to your jaw, nipping and kissing at the skin. A whine leaves your lips as he litters your skin with his affection. “Besides, I once read somewhere that period sex often relieves the pain.”

“Really?” You whisper under your breath. You feel your body flush at the implication of his words. His hands move back towards your tummy, his thick fingers trace lightly against the hem of your jogger shorts once more. Your hips rise as a little whimper leaves your lips. Soothingly he massages your pelvis, providing you a lot of warmth and comfort.

“Really.” He murmurs as his lips move against your neck, kissing the delicate skin.

“B-but it’s gross, and it’s all bloody and—” you say, stuttering over your words as he sucks a mark onto your neck, trying to tell him that it might not be an enjoyable experience for him.

“Baby, I ain’t afraid of a little blood.” He groans as he moves his head slightly away from yours, looking into your eyes directly. “Whatever you need, I’ll give it to you.”

“You don’t think it’s gross?” You whisper timidly, you bite your bottom lip as you look at him.

He shrugs with a smile. “Why would I think it’s gross?”

“I-I don’t know. I mean it’s bloody so…”

“It’s not gross to me at all, I promise.” He smiles reassuringly before leaning down and capturing your lips in a sweet kiss. As you’re both kissing languidly, his hands are still busy tracing your lower tummy, eventually slipping underneath the band of your sweat shorts. His lips make their way down to your ear, nipping at your earlobe as you whine against him. Automatically you feel your body relax, slumping against his bed as you allow him a lot more access to the flesh of your neck. He responds by drawing his lips slowly down the expanse of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine.

The things you’d let him do to you.

“Joel,” The hitch in your breath has him chuckling, the rumble of his voice transcending through your skin.

“What?” He whispers, his words so quiet you barely hear them against the pulse of your neck. Joel could read your body like no one else — could push exactly what buttons he needed to create the reactions that he wanted from you. Your relationship is still quite new, yet he knows you so well. He waits patiently as you try to find ways to tell him what you need, his lips skimming lower towards your collarbone as his fingers caress your pelvis over your underwear.

“S-shower, please.” You finally give in with a whine, kind of admitting to him that you want this.

“Anythin’ for my baby girl.” He whispers as he kisses the soft skin of your neck. Slowly both of you move off the bed, his tall and broad frame is close to you, as he guides you towards his adjacent bathroom.

You almost trip over the doorway, a giggle leaving your lips as Joel’s arms come to wrap around you. “What are you doing sweetheart?” He chuckles as you slowly spin in his arms as laughter continues to bubble inside you before your head falls to his chest. His arms tighten their hold on you as he places a soft kiss to your forehead.

“I almost tripped,” you giggle, eyes moving towards his beautiful face, taking in his scruffy beard, eventually your eyes lead to his lips. As soon as your eyes meet again, he leans down, capturing your lips in a loving and sweet kiss.

His mouth moves, slow and passionate. Joel kisses you like he has all the time in the world. You love the feel of his lips on yours, you are certain you could kiss that man all day.

You part your lips slightly to catch your breath, inhaling slowly as you taste Joel and only him. His tongue sweeps across your lips making you whimper. The wet muscle wraps itself against yours a moment later, hot and wet and steady as he tastes your mouth and kisses you deeply.

Your tongues slowly swirl and dance against each other as your hands try to find purchase on his arms. You feel your core clench around nothing and become even more wet as both of his hands travel from your waist to your ass, squeezing it in his hands and pushing your body closer to his.

Just when you think you can’t take it anymore, Joel pulls away, giving you the possibility to breathe in some air again. You feel like you might die when he looks at you intensely as he licks his lips.

A small moan slips past your lips as his hands caress your cheek, then tilting it to the side as Joel moves his head as he traces small nips across your jawline, ending just by your ear. Your hips are softly grinding up into his and he slowly pulls away from you.

You feel drowsy and hot all over, your mind all over the place, your heart beating insanely fast. You’re breathless and Joel chuckles deeply as he takes in your state.

“You okay baby?” He says as he looks at you with amusement.

You quickly come back to your senses, grabbing the collar of his flannel, surprising him, bringing his lips down to your mouth. “I want to undress you,” you whisper against Joel’s lips as your cheeks flush with heat. He moans against your mouth as his hands grip your hips in his hands.

Automatically, your fingers reach up to begin their work undressing him, plucking each button open, one by one. They dart over the curve of his chest, your hands continue to move as you expose more of his body. By the time his shirt is fully off, you pull back from his lips, taking joy in watching the broad and the softness of his torso heaving as his breathing quickens.

Your hands continue to roam over his skin, skipping over the tanned smoothness of his muscle. His physique was broad, soft in the right places. His body was absolutely something that drew you in — he was so big and just so tall, something you enjoyed revealing in, allowing his form to spark a certain energy inside you that you felt heating up between your legs.

“Turn the shower on.” He grunts, voice low as his thick and long digits begin to hastily pry the belt buckle of his pants open. Without question, you obey, moving from his embrace to walk across the room to the shower stall. As you step away, your departure earns you a light, playful slap across your ass, to which you yelp in surprise.

“Joel!” You scold him, as you look at him shyly, looking at him backwards. His pants drop with a clang to the ground. His shirt is still half open as he lets you admire him. Your gaze moves slowly, all over his body. Eventually it falls to his dark boxers, his thick erection straining against the material.

He senses your approval, as you look at him lustfully while you appreciate him, and acts quickly. Shifting forward, his arms wrap around you, bare upper body flush against your clothed one. His arms are firm, as they surround you, hugging you against his chest.

“Why am I the only one that’s practically naked?” He questions with a low grunt. Before you can respond his hands are tugging at the hem of your shirt, peeling it over your head. Once the material drops to the floor you hear his breath hitch. He admires you, as his eyes roam over your bare chest.

You bite your lip as heat overwhelms your face. “J-joel—” You whimper loudly and before your brain can register what’s happening, Joel drags his tongue across your neck, tracing a line around your jaw before returning to the crook and lightly dragging the flesh through his teeth. You feel your core clench around nothing as he latches onto your neck, lapping at your sensitive flesh and sucking the sensitive skin.

Joel groans against you and you feel his sound vibrate through your neck and it raises goosebumps across your whole body, he has a way of bringing that electric chill through you. Slowly, his mouth moves back up to your lips, kissing you deeply.

He undresses you unhurriedly, while you both continue to kiss each other passionately. Joel seems determined to devour you whole, determined to make the most of this desperate kiss.

Once the last piece of clothing falls to the floor, he pulls away slightly as his hands caress the length of your arms, admiring your body with a lustful yet tender gaze. Silently, you pray that Joel hadn’t seen the attached thick pad, despite knowing the stark red marks of blood stood out against the white pad attached to the inside of your underwear.

“You’re so, so beautiful baby.” He says as he moves his hands to your face, cupping your cheeks, tilting your chin as his lips ghost against yours. He slowly glides his lips against yours, nudging them open. You part your lips wider, urging him to kiss you more and deep. You want to give him everything you have to offer.

You whine against his lips as you feel his hands move from your face to your waist, all the way to your ass. You pull away slowly, his pupils are dilated as he licks his lips before he squeezes the flesh of your ass in his hands.

“F-f-fuck, Joel…” you whimper as you pull yourself away from his hold completely. “We should get in…”

He stares you down hungrily for a moment before his gaze drifts to the shower. “Good idea, sweet girl.” He says cheekily.

You quickly step into the shower with one foot and reach for the shower handle, turning the shower on. Immediately, water shoots from the shower head mounted to the wall, the spray wetting your arm.

“Alright, that’s done.” You say with a joyful smile, before you feel his hands around your waist again, as he leans down to kiss your neck.

You giggle at his affection, loving the feeling of being wanted. Once the water heats up, you step into the shower completely, you sigh contentedly as the water cascades down on you, the warmth already relaxing your muscles. You turn to face the water, closing your eyes as you let it run off the back of your scalp, your hands coming up to rub over your face.

Soon, you feel the front of his body against your back. His erection presses against your lower back as you whimper against him. Joel’s hands are sliding against your hips, pulling you impossibly closer to his body. You can feel your breath growing shaky as you respond to his movements, turning your body around in his embrace. Your arms encircling his back, your body leaning towards his.

His eyes catch your gaze before they close, as he moves you backwards as the spray of water falls on him. Almost instantly, his broad body is glistening wet, his hair getting soaked against his head. His arms are strong and thick as he reaches up to slick it back. The gentle movement of him flexing his forearm ignites a surge of pleasure jolting through your core. He moves his hands back to your hips, holding you closer as he opens his eyes unhurriedly.

Your arms automatically wrap around Joel again, his wet skin warm and inviting as your body slicks against his. You lean up, your lips moving towards his own.

He gladly meets your lips halfway, as you’re standing on the tip of your toes. Joel kisses you slowly, teasingly, like he has all the time in the world, his hands squeezing your hips, pressing his own hips against yours as he finally deepens the kiss. You gasp as his hands knead your ass, giving him the opportunity to slide his tongue inside your mouth.

“You’re truly the most beautiful girl I've ever seen.” Joel murmurs against your lips. His own lips become more and more eager as he backs you slowly against the shower wall. You hiss slightly as the cold wall hits your back but the uneasiness is short lived as Joel tucks his face into your neck, his lips pressing soft open mouthed kisses below your ear. “The woman of my dreams.”

“Joel…” You mewl as he shifts his hips back slightly, causing his throbbing cock to move from its position of pressing hard against your lower stomach. He bends his knees slightly, bringing him down a bit as his tip slides against your thighs, prodding its way between them before travelling upwards to rub enticingly against your clit.

He rolls his hips forward, nudging the head against your entrance, turning you into a whimpering mess. You feel yourself clenching around nothing as your pussy begs for attention. Glancing down, you see a smeared streak of red down half of his shaft. It is so wet and red. If Joel had seen it he doesn’t seem to care. Joel reaches up to grasp the detachable shower head. His free hand runs down your body, as he caresses your soft skin.

Joel’s hand brings the shower head between your legs, standing back slightly as the water sprays from your pussy, as a rusty brown river flows towards the drain. The warmth of the water as the sprays hit against your core feel so good, it has you whining at the pleasure. It stimulates your sensitive pussy so well. You lean into him, his broad frame envelopes you instantly in a tender embrace. One of his forearms remains steady between your thighs, as the water pulses against you.

His lips meet yours in a heated kiss. You feel so overwhelmed, your heart hammering against your chest as you roll your hips against the strong pulses. You moan as he slowly moves his head to kiss and nip at your jaw.

His eyelids hang low as he watches you, his eyes concentrated on each roll of your hips, each grind of your pussy against the stream. Your body trembles the closer he moves the shower head against you, feeling so close to your release, you try to move your hips along with it more. You’re a whimpering mess for him against the cold tile wall. One of his hands dig in your hips, guiding your body the second he notices you slowing down. Turning the shower stream setting to another, harder setting, as he moves it against your dripping centre, specifically your sensitive clit, does it — makes you double over as you cum.

Your head leans against his chest, as you try to catch your breath and try to tone down your little noises of pleasure while you slow down your movements against the water pulses. One of his hands slides over your back as his arm pulls you closer against him while he pulls the shower head back with the other.

“You did so well for me baby girl.” He whispers against your skin as he presses a soft kiss against your forehead. The water flows back against your bodies, as you both stand underneath the stream. His mouth moves from your forehead down to your lips. The kiss starts off gentle and tender, but soon evolves into something more passionate and deep. He brings your body impossibly closer to his, and you can’t seem to quite catch your breath.

You open your mouth to swipe your wet muscle against his lips, Joel’s lips slowly opening up for you to slip your tongue inside. Your tongues dance against each other slowly, his taste is so delicious, making you whine against his lips.

His hands travel from your back, all the way down to your waist, his hands occasionally squeezing your flesh. One of his hands slips all the way down to your wet heat in between your legs, while the other is holding your body close to his. All the while he’s kissing you deeply. You whimper when his fingers pass by your sensitive bundle of nerves.

His fingers slide up and down your slit, slowly spreading your outer lips for him to slip two of his fingers inside you. You cry out as he rubs his fingers against your walls. You feel your body trembling and you try to grind your pussy slowly against his fingers. He presses his palm against your clit as he gradually picks up the pace of his hand.

Your legs almost give out on you at the pressure against your clit combined with his fingers playing with your sensitive spot inside. You’re a mess of his name, you chant his name over and over again. Eyes are squeezing shut to the point of tears as you continue to grind and buck your hips against his hand. He steadies you with his other hand as he smiles against your lips. He swirls his tongue against yours as you mewl against his mouth. Your thighs tremble so hard as your noises start to become more high pitched. You feel quite literally so dizzy as he keeps pleasuring you under the warm stream.

“Come on kitten, come for me.” He groans against your mouth.

You slowly open your eyes, meeting his playful eyes as you pull your mouth from his to cry out loud as your hips stutter against his hand as you come undone. You tighten and untighten around his fingers as you ride out your high. After a while he slips his fingers out of you, chuckling lightly while you whine as you slump against his body. Both of his hands catch your body and he smiles softly down at you.

“Always doin’ so good for me. Such a good girl.” He whispers as his mouth moves to kiss your neck. He peppers and licks your skin as you continue to tremble against him.

“P-please Joel… need you so bad.” You whimper desperately, needing him so badly to just take you. To enter your tight pussy with his thick and long cock. You whine as his lips move to yours, catching your lips in a scorching kiss, the loss of him leaving you empty and craving.

Joel lifts one of your legs up, hiking it up around his hips as he keeps you close. A gasp leaves your lips and you move to press your forehead against his as you breathe heavily. The other hand moves to slip his length against your wet heat. You tremble and whine as you anticipate his next move.

“Ah, Joel… I love you.” Your lips embrace him once again, kissing him deeply. As your hips shift desperately forward, driven by your need to have him enter you, they roll directly against his tip as he slips the head of his cock finally inside your little pussy. You let out a long broken whine as he continues to push gradually more of him inside you. Your walls try to accommodate his girth as he moves deeper inside your tight, wet walls.

“Fuck, I love you too sweetheart.” He groans softly.

Once he’s fully inside you, you whimper against his lips. It feels so good, the feel of the fullness of his member, his raw and throbbing cock deep within your walls. You feel one of his hands finding one of your hands, lacing them with yours and he presses it against the wall as the other one holds your leg, keeping it secure around his hip.

“You okay?” He whispers as he checks up on you.

You smile as you nod, “Y-yeah, just give me a moment.”

“Anythin’ for you baby girl.” He leans up to kiss your forehead as your eyes drift close.

You feel yourself slowly adjusting to his size, your pussy still pulsing around his cock. You bite your lip as you continue to squeeze around him, your eyes slide open unhurriedly meeting his intense gaze.

“Please, p-please move.” You whine out pathetically.

He nods quietly and starts by fucking you slow and deep. His hips drive forward, moving through you before drawing his tip out completely. He repeats himself, so slowly, and with intention. It feels as if he is taking his time to enjoy the sensation.

He grunts as he drops his head to your ear to kiss and lick at the sensitive skin there and to whisper sweet nothings as he sets a pace.

“More, more—” You mumble, whining and he makes a loud noise — a noise somewhere between pained, and desperate, he only nods before he picks up the pace, the pressure building between your hips once again.

You hug him against your body as his both arms come to brace himself against the cold tile wall. The sound of skin slapping against wet skin, his hips hitting yours coupled with both your quiet moans and the wet squelching of him moving hard and fast inside you, echoing off the tile walls with the sound of the running water — has your cheeks heating up furiously.

He fills you up so perfectly, stretching your tight wet hole so well, he feels like pure heaven.

“Fuck, kitten you feel so good…” He breathes heavily, grunting here and there as he continues to fuck you harder. A particular hard thrust coupled with one of his fingers moving to press against your little nub has you gasping for air. The presence of his thumb flickers over the sensitive bundle of nerves, swollen and juicy with your arousal.

You whine as you feel the leg that’s hiked up around his hip, sliding off his body. Your fingers dig in the skin of his back making him groan. He quickly moves his hand to grab your leg again, keeping it in place as he picks up his pace once again.

“Fuck, I’ll never get used to fucking this sweet little pussy of yours. All raw.” He grunts as he moves his hips with deep and fast strokes. “All mine.”

Your pussy continues to clench repeatedly around his thickness, begging for him to fill you up with his cum. You whimper, whine and moan against him while your body trembles, his fingers still circling your clit with his other hand as he hums against your mouth.

“I can feel you milking my cock, baby girl. Begging for me to make us cum.” Joel’s hips stutter slightly as you clench particularly hard around him, feeling every ridge and vein. His intense gaze is on you as he moans loudly. “Your pussy is so wet, feels so fuckin’ good.”

“J-Joel, baby, want to cum so bad.” You beg as you whine against him, your nails digging in the skin of his back once again. “I want you to cum inside me so bad.”

“Cum for me, my pretty baby. Show me that I’m the only one who can make you cum like this. Cum all over me, sweet girl.” He whispers with a groan as his fingers apply more pressure on your clit.

“Fuuuuck, Joooeel—” You come with a loud cry, your body squirming against his as you hold his body closer to yours, your nails digging in his back, scratching it. This orgasm feels more intense than the others, feeling so overwhelmed by the pleasure you’re feeling.

It takes only a few more seconds — his pace increasing, the sound of skin slamming against skin filling the room, the room and him smelling like pure sex. As he stutters, hips shifting erratically into you, you feel the first hot spurt of his cum bursting into you, painting your inner walls. You look up as Joel looks completely fucked out as he continues to cum inside you. Your walls squeeze hard around him as pleasure continues to course through you, milking every last drop of his cum.

You feel both of your bodies slump against one another, as one of his arms moves to support himself against the wall while his other hand is still holding your leg up around his hip.

Eventually, as both of you are able to catch your breaths, he slowly moves to put your trembling leg back down after pulling out of you gently. You whine at the loss and he chuckles lightly at your reaction. As soon as he’s completely out of you, the sticky liquid begins to dribble out of you, creamy and thick oozing out of your heat. Joel supports your shaking body as he wraps his arms around you, embracing you tenderly.

“Fuck, baby… that was amazing.” You whisper as he presses kisses against the crown of your head.

“You know I’d do anythin’ for you darlin’. Besides, I loved it just as much.” He winks, looking at you as he moves his body away from yours slightly.

Once both of you are cleaned up, you both head downstairs in comfortable clothing. Joel moves to the kitchen, making your favourite meal to make you even more relaxed. You sigh happily as you lean the front of your body against his back, wrapping your arms around him. He hums softly as you embrace him, appreciating your affection.

“Thank you.” You mumble against his shirt.

“Anytime sweetheart.”

For a while, you stay like this, enjoying each other’s warmth and company as he makes dinner. Feeling so loved and at home. You’ll never get tired of loving Joel.

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x plus size reader #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal characters #tlou x you #tlou x reader #joel miller fanfiction #my writing

[malum-forev]

For your bingo, can I please request Fight (verbal)? Maybe it could be Bucky & reader’s first fight and it happens because she does something that makes Bucky mad or upset and she tries to apologise but he’s so butthurt that she starts thinking that maybe she fucked up so bad that they will break up but then there’s a happy ending. 🥲

Hiii I switched this up a liiiittle tiny bit because I love a slutty bucky! Hope that's okay! and hope you like it! <3

Everyone had advised you against it. A workplace relationship never worked. You never thought you would even be in this position, until you saw those blue eyes. Shining like beacons calling you to shore. 

Bucky didn’t mean to start a relationship either, he thought he wasn’t qualified to have one. He was you superior, it was wrong in every single way except it was also good. Very good. He thought back to the first time the line blurred. 

Bucky never wanted a team, he was happy tagging alongside Sam. Somehow, he’d been convinced and now Bucky was stuck filing paperwork late at night. He heard you before he saw you, some rustling down the hallway in the locker rooms. Bucky turned the corner quietly, thinking someone had sneaked in. It was way past the appropriate hours but there you were, zipping up your tactical suit. He caught a glimpse of how your chest looked pressed against the metallic zipper and the tight fabric, a breath got caught in his throat. 

You turned around with a yelp. “I-I’m sorry, I thought no one was here anymore.”

Maybe it was the way your squeal made his dick twitch or maybe it was because he caught you gawking at him once or twice while he sparred but whatever it was, made him do the most irresponsible thing he’d done in years- decades maybe. 

Your back was against the wall and your leg was hiked up to his waist. Your hands roamed his hair, pulling at whatever you could. Trying to get some relief. 

“This is wrong.” Bucky’s chest heaved, his eyes glued to the zipper on your chest. With one simple tug, he could get what he’s wanted for months. “I’m your boss.”

You pushed your chest closer to him. “Does it turn you on?”

The past couple of months had been filled with secret escapades. You’d sneak into his room late at night and leave before morning or he would stop by your room after everyone had left for the weekend. There had even been a couple of quickies in the quinjet. 

But something happened two weeks ago, it started when he asked you to stay the night. 

“What if someone sees me leaving here tomorrow morning?” You asked quietly, debating whether you should start looking for your underwear he’d roughly discarded or not. 

Bucky shrugged his shoulders casually. “I’ll go out first, make sure the coast is clear.”

Then there was that time he’d asked you to dinner, just the two of you. Followed by the movie night he’d organized in his room. Bucky even bought you your favorite candy and changed his sheets- quite a big deal for him.

But something changed, Bucky pulled you into his room as you passed the hallway. You hissed at the way he threw you onto the bed. 

“I know you like it rough but can I at least get a warning?” You laughed but once your eyes met his, it died down. 

Bucky paced his room with his arms tightly crossed over his chest. “What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking we were supposed to meet tomorrow, not today.” You tried to lighten the mood. 

“You think this is funny?” Bucky’s eyes narrowed. “We agreed this thing- this stupid thing that wasn’t even supposed to happen- would stay between the two of us.”

“Wasn’t supposed to happen?” You repeated his words back to him. 

“You, me, this.” Bucky pointed between the two of you. “Meaningless sex. No one was supposed to find out. And you go and mess it all up by telling someone, someone on the team!”

His words hurt you. “Meaningless sex, huh? Then what the fuck has been going on? Because last time I checked, you don’t buy someone you don’t care about flowers.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “You were sick, what else was I supposed to do.”

“I thought I was talking to a friend,” You explained. “But I guess not. I’m sorry for trying to get help understanding you and this huge mess you made.”

“The one that made things messy was you.” His words like knives. “You got your heart involved when I specifically told you to not read into things.”

“How the hell was I not supposed to think there was more happening when you asked me to stay the night!” You threw your hands up. 

“Don’t get it twisted,” Bucky came closer to you. “I only asked you to stay for my peace of mind. I didn’t want to feel like an asshole by letting you leave.”

“You wouldn’t feel like an asshole if it was just sex.” You spat back.

“Well for me, it was just sex.” Bucky’s jaw tightened. “A stupid mistake I made when my dick was hard. A mistake that now has me explaining the situation to Sam.”

The way Bucky kept repeating the word mistake made you feel foolish and small. Like you were back in grade school, professing your love to a crush who’d never look your way.  

You pushed past him, he would not have the satisfaction of seeing you cry.

A month after your fight, and the last time you had spoken to Bucky outside of what was absolutely necessary, you found yourself working late. You’d been assigned the task of forming a new team for Bucky to take to missions. 

You were working on showing them a presentation when the usual tired chatter suddenly stopped. You looked up from the computer to meet with the pair of eyes you never expected to see. Your eyes trialed down to the bouquet of flowers in his left hand. 

“I wanted to see if you had a minute.” Bucky cleared his throat. “But I can see your busy.”

“Guys, we can continue tomorrow. Go get some rest.” You dismissed the agents. 

You’d never seen them leave a room so quickly. All of their heads hung low as they passed by Bucky. 

“I came here to apologize.” Bucky brought the flowers closer to you. “I acted like a jackass and I was scared that I had feelings for you- have, have feelings for you.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “I’m going to need you to try harder.”

“I let my insecurities get ahold of my emotions and I drove you away when I clearly wanted more. I asked you to stay that night because I hate the feeling I’m left with when you leave. I want to hold you and kiss you and become something more- if you’ll have me.” Bucky’s eyes softened but you still weren’t convinced. 

Bucky placed the flowers on the table and brought you close. Taking you by the waist and setting you on the table. 

Bucky dropped to his knees, his eyes never leaving yours. “Let me show you how truly, deeply, sorry I am.”

Heat rushed from your face to your core, the sight of this man prepared to express his sorrow was enough to make you come undone.

“Buck- what if there’s someone around?” You whispered, looking around the empty building. 

“Then they’ll get the show of a lifetime because I don’t care, I want everyone to see you’re mine.” He said with a devious smile. 

Hi hiiii This is part of my 1k Celebration, if you like this please be sure to look at the Bingo Card and ask for a prompt! Love y'all <33

And you can find the Bingo master list and what prompts are still available here!

tagged: @kpopgirlbtssvt @shara-ne @namelesssaviour

#bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky imagine #bucky x female reader #bucky #bucky fanfic #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barns x you #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x you angst #bucky barnes x reader angst #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes os #college au #college au!bucky barnes #bucky x reader #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier x you #sebastian stan x you #marvel fanfic

[lucky-bishop]

messy draft monday

Thanks for the tags @like-lazarus and @dear-massacre! I am absolutely a mess today (on brand for me) so I'm posting late but I'm still posting! Not tagging anyone bc it's so late but if you'd like to do it feel free!

From some progress I made recently on my "Stiles gets bit by a grindr hookup" Steter fic!

Stiles firmly does not want to call Peter, but he is one of his alphas, and that deserves respect. Peter picks up on the fourth ring, voice bleary with sleep although a bit more put together than Scott, and Stiles winces. He’s cracked enough jokes before about Peter and his beauty sleep to know that the alpha genuinely hates having his sleep interrupted, but he knows it’d be worse if he didn’t call immediately. “Stiles? It’s two o’clock in the morning. Shouldn’t you be out carousing with your human friends?” “So, about that, I actually was, and then I decided to come home and hook up with this guy who was close on grindr, and - “ “Stiles, we’ve been over this. You don’t need to report all of your sexual exploits to the entire packs, and frankly - “ “He bit me, Peter. He’s an alpha, and I’m turning. I’m not showing any signs of bite rejection, but I wanted you to know - “ The call disconnects before Stiles can say another word, and he sighs heavily. Peter will be here soon enough, and since he still seems like he’s doing alright, it’s time to get Spencer out of here before the Hale alpha shows up. Stiles gets out of bed, wincing at the bite that hasn’t started healing yet on his side, and makes his way out to the living room. “Looks like I’m gonna turn and be fine. You should give me your contact info and then get out of here.” “Wait, you want my number? I didn’t think you’d want to see me again.” “Because you’ll have to help in the ritual to transfer me to one of my packs, dude.” Stiles cuts him off. “Oh,” Spencer replies, then digs his phone out of his pocket and hands it to Stiles, who does the same back. They exchange their information, and then Spencer makes a half-hearted protest to stay, which Stiles completely dismisses. There's no way an unfamiliar alpha werewolf - who fucking bit him nonetheless - is sticking around. Plus Stiles doesn't hate the guy, and he wouldn't unleash a tired and incredibly pissed off Peter Hale on somebody unless he really had a bone to pick with them. “Trust me, dude, you do not want to be here when my alpha gets here.” That’s enough to get him to leave, thankfully. Stiles doesn't think about calling Peter "his alpha" - he and Scott both are, of course, and Peter is the one that's going to show up right away. Scott will show up, too, but Stiles downplayed the urgency to him. He downplayed it to Peter, too, of course, but Peter is much less inclined to believe him on behalf of his general personality.  There's some pain from the bite, but it's not unbearable. Stiles' confidence in his survival increases every minute. The mark hasn't started healing quite yet, but it's not bleeding anymore, and he's not showing any signs of rejection, thankfully. Stiles cleans himself up as best he can - both from the hookup and from the bite - gets dressed in his comfy clothes because even though he knows Peter will have several things to say about the way he's dressed, and waits. He's not left waiting too long before there's a frantic knocking at his door. He jumps to answer it and Peter pushes his way into his space immediately, grabbing at Stiles and looking him over.  "Where did he bite you? Is it healing properly?" Stiles shoulders Peter off of him and gets the door closed - he doesn't want to disturb the neighbors. He lifts up his shirt to show off the bite to Peter, who immediately drops to inspect it. In the time since Stiles has stopped monitoring it so closely, it's started to slowly heal. Peter breathes out a relieved sigh, then glares up at Stiles from his position on the floor. "How could you let this happen?" And Stiles is not going to put up with that bullshit. "I didn't let anything happen. I thought I was having a normal, human hookup! When he asked if he could bite me I thought it was going to be hot. Not this. I never - I guess - I mean I thought since I escaped it for so long - " "I'm sorry, that was out of line." And Peter's apologizing, now? Maybe Stiles actually is going to die.

#my writing #steter #wip #teen wolf

[mysterious-moonstruck-musings]

WIP Wednesday

How is everyone doing this afternoon/evening? I know, I've been a little MIA lately. I went through a bout of writer's block... or something? I don't even know what to call it. Anway, it has finally passed. Given that, I figured it was time to give you all an update on Destiny & Deliverance. More below the cut...

As of this morning, Destiny & Deliverance is written. It's done. Did I cry? Yes, I did. Not sure if any of my eagle-eyed followers have noticed, but I added another chapter to the masterlist. Chapter 29 just got too fucking long, so I decided to make it an even 30. I think it worked out better that way.

So, to be clear, I have two chapters and the epilogue written. I still need to do editing for all three parts. I didn't want to mess up my flow by stopping to edit. Editing usually comes easier to me than writing, so it shouldn't take too long for that. This means you will get the last three parts fairly close together. I hope y'all are ready (because I'm not).

I will say the ending took a slightly different turn than I was originally planning, but I think what we have ended up with adds another positive layer to Dieter and Talia's healing journey. I just hope you all are happy with it. 👀 Now, let's get to a snippet from Chapter 29, shall we?

As Dieter was rattling off the meeting details, I continued to move around the kitchen to pull out glasses and utensils. I happened to look down at his pill organizer on the counter and realized he didn’t take his medication or supplements this morning. I sighed as I picked it up and waved it at him with a disapproving look.  He grimaced as he reached for the organizer, “Lo siento, mi luz. I’ll do better, I promise. Today has been so hectic already.”  “Same time, every day. Take it when your alert goes off…please.” He pulled me in for a quick kiss and thanked me for the reminder. I was starting to feel like a broken record and hated nagging him, but since he started working again, he had been slipping up on things…a lot. He never complained or got upset about it. Instead, he would often thank me, do what he needed, then go back to what he had been so focused on.

Don't come at me for that, I know it sounds ominous, but it's not. I promise. Just some minor growing pains.😏 I haven't had a chance to throw together a mood board yet, so I'm dropping a few pics here as a teaser. As always, I'd love to hear your predictions.

Tag List: @rhoorl @bitchwitch1981 @readingiskeepingmegoing @runningmom94 @for-a-longlongtime @hisandsnakes @chaoticfestninja @survivingandenduring @partyofone3413 @wannab-urs @cakipy-blog @titlee78 @poodlebae @guelyury @missladym1981 @maried01 @alokaerza @samiamproductions @misstokyo7love @themonadiaries-blog @madnessofadaydreamer @darkheartgatita @avastrasposts @weho2kcmo @harriedandharassed @tkchaos @girlofchaos @yghuibt @musings-of-a-rose @annieispunk @sarcasm-theotherwhitemeat @copperhalfcent @bunniboo0015 @indiegirlunited @babycatkitty

#dieter bravo #dieter bravo fic #dieter bravo x ofc #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #destiny & deliverance series #destiny & deliverance teaser

[rejectedfables]

@kuntya​ tags on this post

I FEEL like you’re trying to wrap your head around the post, rather than flat out disagreeing with it. Here’s my recommended thinking points to help you out:

“He doesn’t have to obey his father or stay with the Jin Sect”

Jin Guangyao lives in a society wherein filial piety and filial respect/devotion is paramount. He is expected to be devoted to his parents and do as they say, and he will be publicly reviled if he doesn’t. Could he have simply never connected with his father? Sure, but he had no way of knowing how bad it would go, and once he DID connect it was too late to back out. (I’ll elaborate on this point later)

Jin Guangyao loved his mother, and her living AND dying wish was for him to be recognized by his father. Devotion to his mother’s wishes drives his devotion to his father. 

Jin Guangyao lives in a society that HATES HIM because of his mother’s profession, no matter what he does. If they hate him when he’s doing everything “appropriately” they would treat him even worse if he openly broke the rules of society.

Jin Guangyao spends his entire life feeling (and BEING) unsafe because of how people view him due to his mother’s profession. His actions, which would have been understood as necessary and good were any member of the gentry to have performed them, are questioned and condemned because they were his. 

When I say he spent his whole life being unsafe, I mean it. He went from the absolute bottom of society to the absolute top, and was NEVER safe. The entire society turned on him and he was literally killed WHILE he was holding the highest position in society. He feels unsafe, AND HE’S NOT WRONG.

Being Jin Guangshan’s son DID give him a modicum of protection that he didn’t otherwise have. It put him in a position to be abused by Madam Jin, and be reviled by people who knew his background, but it also offered him SOME protections he didn’t otherwise have. He is ONLY afforded these protections while following his father’s orders and displaying appropriate filial devotion. By the time he has been recognized as his father’s son, it is too late to escape the dangerous parts of this, but any wrong move would have revoked the protections. 

“He could just go be Lan Xichen’s live in boyfriend”

Even if you just mean “he could have just joined the Lan sect and Lan Xichen would have taken care of him”, please revisit the filial piety points, and additionally consider that after a certain point, Jin Guangyao knew damning secrets about Jin Guangshan. JGS would have reasonably considered JGY going to the Lan sect to be a threat, and might have retaliated against either JGY or even the Lan sect itself.

Jin Guangyao grew up watching sex workers be mistreated by the people they relied on, and was then repeatedly mistreated by people HE relied on (his superior officers, his father, his father’s wife, etc.). Relying on others for safety does not feel safe to Jin Guangyao, because historically it has not been. 

And if you DO mean literally being with Lan Xichen romantically/sexually: Jin Guangyao lives in a society that is broadly homophobic, so even if he WANTED to be a “stay at home boyfriend” that would have probably messed up Lan Xichen’s life/position AS WELL as his own, and Lan Xichen’s happiness matters a lot to him.

Jin Guangyao was trapped in a traumatizing marriage -- he WANTED to marry her right up until learning The Bad Information, but at that point if he’d backed out he’d have been condemning her to his own mother’s fate of being an unwed mother reviled by society AT BEST, so he just never told anyone or touched her again and swallowed how awful the situation was. He took that all on himself and told NO ONE. But he also loathed his father’s infidelity, and therefore may have resisted seeking his own happiness because it would have been unfair to both his wife (none of it was her fault) and any potential lover he might take. 

Also having an affair with Lan Xichen would potentially cause the same “JGS sees this as a threat” situation mentioned above, while he lived. 

The heads of two sects being romantically entangled can cause Political Problems. JGY already has so much trouble having anything he suggests or supports be taken seriously, and LXC is one of his best allies -- that would no longer be true if people could just say “Well, LXC is only agreeing with you because you’re fucking” as an easy way to dismiss anything they agree on.

Also, like... the guy has ambitions? He doesn’t WANT to be a house husband, he wants to IMPROVE SOCIETY, and that’s very cool and sexy of him actually? 

Saying essentially “Why didn’t he just settle for being a secret boytoy for a sect leader” is giving me extremely “Why didn’t he just become his mom? Why would he ever think he had any right to his father’s power? How dare he try to better his own life or anyone else’s” vibes. Please ponder this.

“Nie Mingjue is a cop and that makes him a moral authority” (yikes)

If laws are inconsistently enforced, then they are not about fairness or justice, they’re about enforcing classism. Also all cops are bastards, etc. so jot that down 

I’m being a tad facetious, yes, but also like... cops are NOT inherently morally upstanding, cops enforce oppression and cause terror, and if you are using them in a moral debate as pinnacles of virtue or beacons of morality then you are standing on a platform of crumbling sand.

Calling Nie Mingjue a cop IS big brained though, you’re absolutely right about that, he absolutely IS a cop, and Baxia is a metaphorical gun, welcome to my ted talk--

Nie Mingjue truly believes that his own actions are righteous while Jin Guangyao’s are criminal. This despite Jin Guangyao’s “crimes” being 1) calculated self defense after extensive mistreatment and 2) being a spy in a way that allowed him to win the war for everyone. 

(in the novel, by the way, he kills Wen Rouhan TO SAVE Nie Mingjue, and NMJ still manages to climb on a high horse about it because he doesn’t seem to understand how “being undercover” works. So chew on that.)

NMJ says “killing enemies on the battlefield doesn’t count” and JGY says “why not” and NMJ says “because I said so” because he’s a COP (again, being facetious, but the whole point is, they just have different perspectives on morality but only NMJ’s is given any credibility by society because society loves his cop ass, and hates JGY no matter what he does)

There’s something really interesting to explore about how NMJ’s WHOLE ISSUE is not really “you committed crimes” but rather “I have been faced with the reality that I CANNOT TELL when you’re being genuine vs duplicitous, and therefore I HAVE to ALWAYS assume that you are lying, because I will never know for sure, and what if I’m wrong--” and therefore THERE IS NOTHING Jin Guangyao can do that will EVER make ANYTHING right with NMJ. And that has nothing to do with his actual actions being criminal. 

Nie Mingjue gets to commit as many crimes and/or kill as many people as he wants, and he will always see it as justifiable because he understands why he did it, and that makes it okay. He doesn’t understand why Jin Guangyao does what he does, and that makes JGY’s actions unjustifiable to NMJ.

The things NMJ condemns JGY for were 1) killing his superior officer, who NMJ sent him to against his wishes and who was mistreating him and repeatedly sending him on suicide missions. JGY did this as calculated self defense. 2) being SNEAKY about killing that guy and not TURNING HIMSELF IN after. Calculated self defense would be dumb if you get executed right after. NMJ wouldn’t have been executed for this crime so he doesn’t get it, but JGY absolutely would have and knows it. 3) killing soldiers on Wen Rouhan’s orders while undercover. 4) Saying mean shit about NMJ’s dad while undercover. 5) Encouraging Huaisang to pursue art when NMJ only wanted him AT THE GUN RANGE at saber training. 6) Not letting NMJ kill Xue Yang, which would have been against JGS’s orders (and therefore would have BEEN a crime).

3,4 5, and 6 are, um. Legal? Like, those are all understandable even legally. 

1 and 2 are understandable morally, if you’re not a privileged classist cop.

Additional Thoughts

The reason the audience is biased towards Nie Mingjue’s perspective is because Wei Wuxian is biased towards Nie Mingjue’s perspective. We see everything that happened through a spell called EMPATHY, which 1) we’re told in canon is a risky and overwhelming spell that is not recommended. and 2) Whenever Wei Wuxian does uses Empathy, he ends up 10000% agreeing with the person he has EMPATHIZED with. We are shown Nie Mingjue’s perspective, which IS BIASED, via the spell that might as well be called BIAS. But even GIVEN that, by the end of the book Wei Wuxian himself thinks “Oh wow, what’s happening to Jin Guangyao right now (being turned into a villain for other’s moral convenience, then dying for it) is exactly what happened to me, this sucks”

Also: yes, Nie Mingjue is absolutely abusing him. In the Villainous Friends extra it’s implied that Jin Guangyao often has bruises, and the two culprits are Madam Jin and Nie Mingjue. Nie Mingjue is CONSTANTLY threatening his life, AND kicks him down a very long flight of stairs. These are not government approved punishments for convicted crimes (a situation that may or may not be morally right but would at least be legal), they’re one sworn brother violently taking out his anger and distrust on another in a longstanding abusive relationship. Jin Guangyao WAS NOT arrested. He was not “arrested by a cop” he was just being abused by someone who felt morally righteous in performing said abuse. Nie Mingjue ABSOLUTELY IS “~abusing~” him, as well as ABUSING him (no ~~s necessary).

If a cop spends YEARS threatening to murder an ex undercover agent, in private while off duty, because he doesn’t like what said undercover agent had to do while undercover, routinely physically assaulting him, and no one does anything to protect said undercover agent despite everyone knowing what’s going on-- at some point self defense DOES become appropriate. I’d personally say Jin Guanyao waited LONGER than he needed to to reach that point.

Hope this helps, ACAB, also I love your icon. Fuck yeah psyduck 

#kuntya #jgy #mdzs #mo dao zu shi #untamed #cql #chen qing ling #jin guangyao #xiyao #idk I'm putting it in there cuz this is a bunch of my 'this is why they have decades of UST and and URT' ponderances #Mdzs meta

[onedaughterofman]

Prime Mover (Papa Emeritus x g/n reader)

Summary: The ceremony to welcome you as the new Prime Mover is scheduled soon, but you’re still a bit insecure about it. Papa finds interesting ways to reassure you. Tags: +18. Any Papa you like, mirror sex, a bit of praise kink, body worship, light dom/sub dynamics, some fluff. Discussions of rituals. I use "Prime Mover" as "Papa's right hand", so it's gender neutral.

It’s late at night when you go search for him. A small call on his door, your fingers tapping the cold, old wood. That’s all it takes to hear his voice from deep within his personal chamber, accepting your visit.

Papa never sends you away, no matter how long the day was, no matter how tired he is. Tonight marks almost the end of a week full of services and intricate rituals, of preparations for what’s to come. 

The designation of a new Prime Mover. And that’s you.

You’d be lying if you said you aren’t both honored and terrified. Time ago, the Prime Mover was supposed to be the chosen nun to bear the Devil’s child, the one who would give birth to the Antichrist. Now, it has become a position of power, the one who’s Papa’s right hand, a confident and advisor.

Still, the responsibility sits heavy over your shoulders. And that’s not everything. Something that’s been bothering you these past days is the fact that the big ritual will end up in an orgy, with you and Papa as the protagonist.

It’s not like you two haven’t had sex before, or you haven’t participated in another orgies with the rest of the Siblings in the past, but now you’ll be in the center of it, right in the focus. It’s a lot of pressure to perform, to let your inhibitions go as the sex energy transcends the bodies and honors the Dark Lord. 

This is going to be a big, important ritual and you’re terrified of messing it up, or proving to everybody that it has been a mistake to choose you.

Papa is sitting in front of the old vanity table. The dim candlelight makes his face look sharper, maybe even gaunt as his piercing gaze focuses on your figure through the mirror. He calls your name, voice full of that adoration he seems to only use when it’s just the two of you.

If this is love, or just bewitchment, you don’t care. 

Walking the steps that separate you from him feel like balancing on a wire. There’s no need to feel nervous, not with him, but tonight the insecurity clings to your throat, fingers tight around your neck. He can tell something is wrong, it’s obvious from the way his eyes darken and his brows furrow.

“Talk to me.” 

When Papa speaks, it’s impossible to deny him. And so, like a cascade of turbulent water, the words fall from your mouth. You confess to him, falling to your knees and clinging to his robes, baring your soul with no reserves. It’s only natural, only right when it’s with him. As always, he listens without judgment, without any comment.

The pressure on your chest has been lifted a bit when your mouth shuts, eyes glued to the floor. It’s hard to admit it, but you feel stupid, so dumb. Papa has been so busy planning everything, he’s been so insistent to the higher-ups and the Council, he has vouched for you on many occasions and here you are, questioning all the hard work and all the support.

“Do you want my opinion, or do you just need to let it out?”

That wisdom and patience surprises you. Sometimes you forget it’s there, behind all those sex innuendos and crude language, behind the stupid dances and the eccentricity he has on stage. He’s the head of the Clergy for a reason, someone who has studied the occult practically since birth. 

“Please, Papa.” The voice is full of air when you begin. “Just guide me. Tell me what to do.”

For a long moment, he nods absentmindedly, hand darting up to pat your head. You let your cheek rest on his thigh, feeling the warmth emanating from his body. 

“I can advise you, if you want me to,” he replies. “But I won’t tell you what to do. A Prime Mover is supposed to walk by my side, not behind me.”

There’s no anger or harshness in his tone. Your fingers cling to the material of his robes, nails softly digging on his flesh. “Right. Sorry for wasting your time, Papa. Maybe I’m not… the right one for this.”

This time, Papa’s hand stops abruptly, moving down to grab your chin and lift your face up. The gloves are soft, a bit cold on your skin. “Do you think I’m wrong about you?”

“No, it’s not that…”

“Then?” When there’s no answer, and your pupils go back to the ground, he continues. “What if you let me show you the way I see things? Would that reassure you?”

Yes. 

The word never comes out from your mouth, it dies on the tip of your tongue but he can hear it anyway. His fingers cling to your wrist when he helps you to your feet, placing your body right in front of the table. The candlelight allows your reflection to be seen in the mirror, shadows casting over your face. It’s been a while since you have stared at the mirror, and a deep, doubtful part of you wants to immediately look away.

Papa doesn’t let you. His fingers grasp your chin, gently forcing your head back to the front. “You’ll have to be good and keep looking there, no matter what. That way, you’ll see what you’re searching for.”

Nodding, you lean to the side without breaking eye contact with the mirror, in a way to give him easier access to your neck. Papa starts slow, uncharacteristically so, but it doesn’t take much for him to begin to test the waters with a few sucks and bites under your ear and over your collarbone. You can feel his warm, moist breath over your pulse, sending chills up and down your spine.

Back arched, you come into full contact with his body. He’s hard already, fierce in a way you have learnt to love like the air you breathe. Those deft fingers work on your robes, letting them fall to the floor with ease. Through the mirror, you catch the fire in his eyes, the unspeakable hunger trapped in those pupils.

The aftertaste of alcohol is strong when he kisses you, bleeding into your mouth. You can’t resist it, the call of the darkness, the yearn for sin. You like this, like it a lot, and can’t stop.

Won’t stop.

Slowly, as the air leaves your body in a deep, loud moan, your lids close and you let the dark embrace every inch of you. The click of his tongue and the brush of his teeth on your neck is enough of a warning.

Keep those eyes opened. Look at yourself. The rules are clear.

In the mirror, Papa’s hands move, fingers exploring your chest and stomach, tickling over your ribs and hipbones, tracing patterns on your thighs. You want it, want it so bad. Your muscles clench on their own, making your insides feel empty and cold. The core of your guts is ice, begging for his heat.

Papa is a tease, as always, but he’s bleeding in need as deep as you are. His robes join yours on the floor, leaving him only in his inner cassock. The greed fills you almost at the same time as he does, forcing your back to arch and to almost beg for more. It scares you, the effect he has, the charm and raw sexual energy that emanates from his pores.

Is this love?

Oh, is this a raw, primal want?

Maybe a bit of both. 

Time seems to have stopped. Papa doesn’t move, and his gaze is frozen on you. It makes your face burn with shame, but you obey and maintain eye contact through the mirror. “Do you see it?” Papa whispers in your ear, hot air hitting your skin. “Do you see how beautiful you look?”

Lies, you don’t say. He seems to realize your doubts, your inner turmoil, because he grabs you hard by the neck, fingers digging in your jawbone. “It’s deliciously sinful, a work of art. Can I tell you a secret, something for you and me only?”

Papa’s nose tickles over your veins when you nod. Your neck is covered in red spots, in promises of bruises that will become true in the morning and in white and black paint. “I’m looking forward to the Prime Mover ritual. You’ll look so unholy, so divine under the light of the black candles, hugged by the shadows. I want everybody to see us, to see you.”

 As your throat muscles constrict, the air feels so scarce. Your lungs scream for oxygen and your skin is on fire, stomach tense and core tight. He can probably feel you, judging by the way a grunt escapes his lips. “You’ll be hypnotizing, paralyzing, a sight to behold for all eternity as we come together for Lucifer's son,” Papa continues, finally beginning to move. 

It doesn’t matter how much you want to turn your head and kiss him, his gloved hand never leaves your neck. He’s squeezing hard, not enough to hurt for enough to feel it and yearn for more. “Do you see it? My Prime Mover, mine alone. I’ll never let you go, you’ll hear me calling for you forever.”

This time, you nod eagerly, biting your lower lips hard enough to draw blood. Oh, it’s difficult to keep your composure when Papa looks at you like you’re a deity, someone sinful and unholy who rose from Hell to bless him; a twisted, evil black guiding light in his way. 

“I see it,” you confess, at last, voice trembling and lungs fighting for air. “I see it, Papa. I do.”

The answer satisfies him. Full of fire, he moves faster, hitting it from behind in a rhythm that he well knows you love. The wood of the vanity table digs on your flesh with every thrust, making the piece of furniture shake. One of your hands presses over the mirror for support, and the heat from your body causes the surface to fog around your fingers. 

Fuck. You never want to let this go, to forget the facial expression on your reflection, the rush of blood on your face and neck or the way your chest heaves with every open mouthed gasp. 

It’s beautiful, divine, but it can’t compare to the expression that overcomes you when you come, or the one he makes when he follows you shortly, grunting and pressing his mouth on the crook of your neck.

Papa takes his sweet time before letting you go, body falling against the furniture. The old wood is cold, so freezing and hard, but it helps to keep you awake. Your legs shake and muscles vibrate, core still clenching around nothing.

Letting himself fall on the chair, Papa breathes too. His chest rises and falls as he pulls on his inner cassock in an effort to dispel part of the heat that clings to his skin. “If you need me to show you again, I’m going to need a few minutes.”

A short chuckle comes to you. Papa pats his lap, prompting you to sit on it and you obey. The paint on his face is all smudged, almost ruined, and a few droplets of sweat rest on his forehead. 

“You’ll be fine,” he says, when you feel like you’re about to fall asleep to the sound of his heartbeat. “I’ll be right there.”

Leaving behind all those doubts, you nod. Papa is right, and he’ll always be willing to reassure you, any time you want.

PD: I started writing this thinking about Terzo, but Secondo won in the end. Take it as an apology for that Viagra post.

Ask box is open if you want to say something!

#ghost fanfiction #papa emeritus iii #papa emeritus x reader #papa emeritus iv #ghost x reader #papa emeritus ii #papa emeritus i #papa nihil #ghost band #ghost bc #papa emeritus ii x reader #papa emeritus iii x reader #papa emeritus iv x reader #papa terzo #papa secondo #papa primo #papa copia #my writing #my fic

[hahahahahangst]

The Cake

Tags (as per my masterlist): ❓👨🏻‍👨🏻‍👧🏻💖

Requested by: @themerakisstuff (happy birthday!!!!💕💖 )

Summary: it's your birthday! Sam and Dean seem to have forgot about it... but have they really?

AN: omg my first request AND my first reader insert ❗❗ i am beyond excited!

Sam and Dean have been gone the entire day. They left you in a random motel room. On your fucking birthday. Those two are un-fucking-believable. 

Leaving you alone on your birthday has to be one of the worst things they have done recently. 

You cross your legs on your bed and turn on the TV. Surely, there must be something to watch, right? 

The light of the television lights up your skin in the dark as the sound of the telenovela makes you roll your eyes - you never understood how Dean can enjoy this shit.

You change the channel. Doctor Sexy. Really? Another one of Dean’s favorites. 

Just when he has forgotten about your birthday. The universe really is trying to mess with you. You change the channel once more to land on a documentary. 

Know what? It’s good enough. Documentary on bees? On your birthday? Why would it be the pinnacle of sadness? Speaking about bees… Maybe Cas is available to spend some time together. 

Maybe, since it’s your birthday, you can try and convince him to bring you some cake from that bakery in Fort Wayne. You close your eyes and think of the cake fondly, your stomach growling. 

God, you are hungry. You haven’t eaten anything, thinking Sam and Dean were going to be back before evening, that they were just late, that they didn’t forget your birthday. 

Stupid of you to think that. 

You check the time on your phone. 3 AM. 

“Cas?” You say, closing your eyes and feeling kind of stupid for talking to yourself like that. “Are you free? It’s kind of my birthday, and nobody is around.” You open one eye, expecting to hear Cas’ wings flutter any moment. But you don’t. The bee documentary keeps going in the background.

So, just to recap: your brothers seem to have forgotten about you, Cas isn’t answering your prayers and the most compelling thing on TV is a documentary on bees.

That’s the premise for a very trashy, filled-with-drama teenage movie. 

You lean against the headboard of the motel bed and close your eyes. At this point, you might as well sleep.

“I told you we would never be back here in time!” Sam’s voice woke you up. “Fort Wayne isn’t exactly a short way from here.” You remain in bed, refusing to move. You don’t feel at all rested, just a slight pain in your neck from sleeping against the headboard. “You know how y/n is about her birthday!” Whispers Sam. “She surely thinks we’ve forgotten.”

You hear the sound of the door closing lightly and plastic bags being placed on the table. “We haven’t!” Complains Dean. “It was just… an organizational delay.” 

Sam sighs. “I’m not saying it wasn’t worth it, just… maybe next year we can take a case closer to Fort Wayne if you really want to go get that cake for her birthday.” 

You open one eye. “Can you guys shut the fuck up?” You mutter, mouth still dry and brain still clouded by sleep. You’re hearing their words, but you’re not really registering anything they're saying. “I’m trying to sleep.” You feel a hand on your shoulder and open both your eyes. 

“Happy birthday y/n!” Sam smiles widely. All of a sudden, you feel awake. You drag your hand over your eyes, surprised. “We brought you something.” That’s when you finally see the cake. It’s that cake. The cake from Fort Wayne you love so much. You snap into a sitting position Dean grins. 

“Always that look of surprise.” He says. “What? You thought we forgot about your birthday?”

You feel your cheeks fill with embarrassment. “Kind of.” You whisper. “You were gone all day.” 

“We took the day off to get you your favorite cake.” Dean smiles, satisfied. “I can’t believe you thought we forgot about your birthday!” He repeated. You smile so hard you almost hurt yourself and stand up from the bed. “Sam also brought you something.” 

You turn towards Sam, excited. He hands you a box a little bigger than your hand, wrapped in christmas-themes wrapping paper. “Sorry about the wrapping.” Says Sam, embarrassed. “They- they were out of birthday wrap and I had to improvise.” You smile at him and gently open the gift. You quickly realize it’s several DVDs of your favorite tv show. You force yourself not to start jumping in excitement. “Sam, this… this is amazing!” You look up at your brother and hug him. “Thanks.” You feel Sam’s arms around you as the comfort and familiarity of being close to your brother goes through you, flushing all anxieties and worries out of you. 

“Of course, kid. Anything.” Says Sam. How could you ever think they had forgotten about your birthday?!

“Alright, my turn now.” Says Dean, opening his bag. “I got two things for you.” He announces. You let go of Sam to turn towards him. “First of all, I made you your own copy of Baby’s keys.” He throws a keychain at you. You stare at it, completely overwhelmed by the fact Dean is giving you free access to his precious car. “And then, since you’re now technically an adult, I purchased this for you.” He hands you a small envelope. You open it and almost choke. 

Gift card valid for the purchase of 1 (one) DVD in our adult section

“I didn’t know what you liked, so…” Dean trails off. You look at the three objects you have in your hands and smile. A stack of DVDs, the keys to your brother’s car and a porn gift card. 

Well, maybe the gift card isn’t as emotionally valuable as the other two things, but it’s still… a gift? A well thought one for that matter. It’s not like he gave you his used magazines. You also hug Dean, who seems not to be expecting it, taking a couple steps back. “Thanks.” 

“Kid, I will never forget your birthday.” He says before kissing your hair. “Happy birthday, y/n.”

#supernatural #spn #dean winchester #sam winchester #sister winchester fic #supernatural fanfiction #sisfic #supernatural fic #supernatural oneshots #sam #dean #jensen ackles #jared padalecki #supernatural fanfic #supernatural oneshot #winchester sister #spn sister #supernatural sister #supernatural sisfic #spn sisfic #oneshot #fanfiction #fanfic #masterlist #supernatural masterlist

[i-like-anything-water]

You Belong with Me (kinda) inspired AU because I don't think I can write it consistently. Chlonette.

Marinette is an artist and still an aspiring fashion designer. While she isn't unpopular, she's mostly known for her sweetness and kindness to other people. She's had confessions, few, but she's only ever liked one guy since freshman year: Adrien Agreste.

Adrien, who happens to be dating Chloe. Chloe Bourgeois, Queen Bee and childhood rival of Marinette. The blonde always gets on her nerves purposely. It's like she goes out of her way to annoy her at least once in a day.

"Here," Chloe all but shoves an umbrella to her, eying her distastefully, "Wouldn't want you looking like a rabid dog."

Despite her confusion, she keeps the yellow and black umbrella.

Marinette isn't a homewrecker. Despite her massive crush, she still respects Adrien and Chloe's relationship. So what if she coincidentally is there so spectate almost every public display affection of them, she's not jealous. Especially not of Chloe. Spoiled, brat, pretty, funny- wait, ew.

Chloe and Adrien are fencers along with Kagami who in reality, Chloe has a crush on. She begged Adrien to 'pretend' to date her for a couple of weeks to see if it irks something from the stoic blue haired girl.

"Congratulations to you both. I wish you a prosperous relationship." Was all she said, her eyes lingering on Adrien. Fuck.

Adrien hands her her favorite ice cream, a comforting hand placed on her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Chloe..."

She sniffs, but doesn't cry. Huh, maybe she's quick to move on than she expected. "It's fine."

News of Adrien and Chloe splitting starts but neither deny or confirm.

Alya's the head/president of the publishing team/school newspaper and she tags Marinette along to help her with Adrien now that Chloe is apparently out of the picture.

Chloe is, unfairly, attractive after a match. She's not even close to panting and her hair is just slightly messed and her posture straight and poised and oh Marinette is staring. At the wrong blonde. Fuck.

Prom is close and coming.

"Are you going to ask Adrien?" "What? No! Chloe would kill me!" "Girl, they're broken up haven't you heard?" "Uh, huh. Sure."

She doesn't believe it though. Chloe hasn't been ranting or bursting about their break up or cause unnecessary annoyance to everyone on how life is treating her poorly.

Chloe commissions a dress and a suit.

"One's for Daddy's upcoming gala." She had said. She didn't know why she needed to explain. She didn't think Marinette deserved to know. Marinette just looked at her, surprised but not judging, and nodded.

After numerous coffees, shopping trips and awkward positions (being locked inside the lab room and needing to cuddle to keep warm coughs a classic) they were able to get their dresses done.

After Chloe occupied most of her time, Marinette realized too late she hadn't tried asking Adrien.

She didn't panic. Huh. Just a sense of slight regret.

It's only after she took a look at Chloe's dress and suit (she had wanted a similar theme for some reason) she realized Chloe's clothes matched her own prom dress.

She told Chloe, expecting the worst. What she didn't expect was her widening her eyes, blushing, and stuttering an inaudible response before fleeing.

Chloe starts avoiding her, only attempting conversation when she asks about the dress and suit.

Marinette misses her. Her presence has...been a huge part of her daily life now and she's suddenly gone and she's confused and annoyed and sad and-

Fuck. "Alya, I think I might like Chloe." "I think you got the wrong blonde, babe." A sigh. "I wished."

She tried to ask Adrien anyways, maybe she was just confused and because she hasn't seen him much?

He says yes. Oh.

Prom comes. Marinette is debating what to wear. Adrien texted he'll be there soon and she waits

Her parents gave her a confusing look but later gave them smiles and took pictures.

They arrive at prom.

Chloe was wearing a suit. A suit! Fuck, her suit. Double fuck, she looked amazing.

"Hey, you guys match!" A confused Adrien, an amused Alya, an equally confused Nino, and a blushing Chloe.

"You look nice." "You're not too bad yourself, Dupain-Cheng."

They dance into the night.

They don't talk about it for a few days but they're less awkward now. Hanging out again albeit not the same as usual.

Then, "Chloé...I have heard from Adrien you had developed feelings for me prior to Prom?"

Jealousy ensues.

"I get it, I'm not her. Just- just go away, Chloé..." "So what if you're not her? I don't care!" "Then maybe you should!"

"I don't like Kagami anymore. It's not her, I like someday else." "Then go to her instead!" "I'm already with her. I'm already with you."

They end up together and share a room in uni. AND THEY WERE ROOMMATES.

Finished the last parts just now. This can also fit reverse! chloenette.

#chloe bourgeois #chloenette #marinette dupain cheng #fic idea #songfic? #maybe

[otomiyaa]

Wreck The Sun Lord Party

Eiden x Dante

A/N: Gift for a friend but also self-indulgent af. Wrecking Dante has been on my wishlist for a while and finally I make it come true! Tagging @nucanitickles because it's been lonely ;-;

Summary: Eiden finds Dante in a very convenient immobile state and can't help but take advantage of the situation...! (Also on AO3)

Word Count: 1.6K

Eiden should probably interfere. Step in, ask what was going on, help Dante out. But he couldn’t help himself. Here he was, sitting with his back against Dante’s bedroom door, listening to the interesting noises coming from inside.

“You will regret this,” Dante said angrily to Team Misschief, formed by a holy trinity of Blade, Kuya, and Karu. It appeared they had hosted a little party in Dante’s chambers without his permission. They even invited everyone else, Eiden included, which was why he was currently here. Late to the party. Naturally no one else responded to the random invitation.

By the time Eiden had arrived, he could already hear yelling voices from inside. Dante was trying to chase the trio out. From listening in, Eiden learned that Blade had come in through the door, and Kuya and Karu through the window. They made a mess in his room already and, what was even happening? Were they wrestling?

“Let go of me! The consequences of your actions will be severe!” Dante sounded furious. So yes, Eiden should help out. But should he though? Dante wasn’t always friendly with the others so he had this coming. His haughty attitude got him in this position, and Eiden was curious how the powerful and confident Sun Lord would get himself out of his predicament without his help. 

The almighty Dante would surely find a way… right?

“Heeheehee. Thanks for the gifts!” All of a sudden, Eiden jumped up when the door slammed open and the three partymakers came rushing out, carrying some of Dante’s belongings and dressed up in his most luxurious robes. Eiden just barely avoided getting the door in his face and wasn’t even noticed as they all ran off. 

Chuckling, he shook his head and entered the room. It was an absolute mess. And there, on top of his bed was… 

“Pffft,” Eiden covered his mouth and laughed. Dante immediately turned his head and glared.

“You -” he huffed. He struggled fiercely, but it appeared that Kuya, Blade and Karu had tied him to his bed with magical restraints.

“They made quite a work of it,” Eiden said, closing the door behind him and slowly strolling into the messy room.

“Were you there all this time, letting this happen? To make up for your betrayal, help me out of this. Then the punishment for your crimes shall be treated lightly,” Dante hissed. Tsk tsk. Eiden shook his head again and sat by his side.

“My my, I just arrived to the party and you’re already talking about punishments, hmm?” 

Dante struggled fiercely. “Waste any more time and face the consequences,” he threatened. Eiden raised his eyebrows.

“You sure are cocky despite your position,” he said, and without warning he reached out and tickled Dante's exposed side. 

“You sure wi- HAAH!” Dante jumped violently and pulled at his restrained arms.

“Dohohon't you daahahare!” His voice was loud and pitchy in an instant. So cute hehe. Eiden smirked and leaned over him, carefully tickling him with both hands.

“What was that, My Lord? Care to repeat all that?” Eiden asked while drilling his fingers into those delicious spots between Dante's ribs, very ticklish, very satisfying. Dante let out a stream of hysterical giggles and shook his head.

“Nohoho! You'll hahahang for thihis!” His empty threats were anything but serious and Eiden could only laugh along with him. It was during a moment of intimacy when he'd discovered how ticklish Dante was in certain places. Not that Dante would let himself be tickled if he could help it. He was very feisty and wouldn't go down easily. And that while Eiden was eager to learn exactly how ticklish he was, in what places and what his limits were. So yes, how could he not make use of this golden opportunity, to hear the laughter of a golden Sun Lord? Anyone would.

“That’s quite a nice laugh you’ve got there, Your Highness. I wonder what happens if I tickle you riiight here?” 

“AHhh! Youhouhou! Nohoho!” Dante threw his head back when Eiden’s fingers climbed up a little higher, scratching experimentally at his underarms. He wasn’t tied down very tightly and could still use his limbs, but not enough to defend his armpits from Eiden’s curious fingers.

“So that’s what happens huh,” Eiden observed, feeling very smug and teasy. He should thank Kuya and the others for this. Having Dante here, tied up and laughing at his mercy, what a gift. 

“YOU- HAhaha! Nahah! Dohohon’t!” Dante shook his head frantically and let out the most hysterical yet charming and adorable squeals.

Eiden couldn’t help but smile fondly. “A laugh like this suits you,” he complimented. Dante only continued to laugh and shake his head, his long red hair now a mess, so Eiden leaned in and stroked some of his hair out of his face.

“Are you hanging in there? Does it tickle a lot?” he asked, still not stopping the tickling which had moved back to his ribs again. He played them and enjoyed the music it caused like some sort of instrument, and said instrument protested with loud frustrated growls right through its laughing orchestra.

“ARGhhahah I wihihill gehehet you fohohor thiihis!” Such a vengeful little Sun Lord. 

“Oh will you now?” Eiden only felt encouraged and jumped on top of him, straddling his bound body and digging all ten fingers into his lower sides. He squeezed, wiggled and clawed, and enjoyed the way it drove him mad.

“NAhahahaha! Gehehet ohohooff!” Dante struggled against his restraints which still held him in place. In his mind, Eiden complimented the guys for their handy work while he continued to make Dante laugh like he never laughed before.

“You know what? Maybe I’ll stop. But only if…” Eiden gave an extra long and unnecessary pause while he got distracted by how ticklish Dante’s toned stomach was. He spidered his fingers around his belly button and poked playfully at the pleasant spot.

“Whahahat?!” Dante howled. Eiden snapped out of it.

“Oh, right. I could stop tickling, if you ask me nicely.”

“Huhuuuhuh?!” Eiden pinched Dante’s hip curiously, and he nodded.

“And talk to me like I’m your superior. As you should,” Eiden added with a smirk. Dante went from shaking his head to signify ‘no’ to shaking his head in ticklish hysteria as soon as Eiden lowered his hands a little to tickle his thighs. Damn, those thighs! 

“Neehehheever! Ahahahah!” Eiden was a little relieved that Dante didn’t give in so soon. He still hadn’t tickled him everywhere he wanted, so perhaps he should hurry before Dante would change his mind. So he tickled those very nice and pretty thighs, and especially his inner thighs gave such a good result. 

Dante jerked heavily and let out the cutest cackle. “Nohohoho!” 

“I am waiting for your nicest plea, Dante. And don’t forget to show me your respect.” Eiden walked his fingers like little spider-legs down Dante’s leg and lingered at his knee. He scribbled right behind it and got a nice squeak out of him.

“NAhahaha you cahahahan wahahait fohorehehever!”

Eiden shrugged. “Then you can laugh forever.” He tickled his knees some more and enjoyed his laughter, and then moved on to those beautiful bare feet. Dante’s toes curled immediately when Eiden brushed his fingers down his bare soles, and his laughter changed pitch just a little. It went not higher, but lower.

Eiden raised his eyebrow and scribbled the ticklish soles of Dante’s feet some more. “I like how your laugh gets a little different. So, where do you think it tickles more? Here-” Eiden tickled only Dante’s left foot for a little while.

“-or here?” And then his right foot. He didn’t hear a difference in his laughter, and only got some more protests in response.

“What did you say? You prefer it when I tickle both? Alrighty then.” Eiden tickled Dante’s feet with all ten fingers, five fingers on each foot, and Dante’s hysterical laughter increased. 

“AHahahalright! Alrihiihight! Hahahaah stahahaap!” 

Eiden shook his head. “Not good enough~” he said, and he licked his lips as he tickled Dante right under his toes. Good spot, good spot…

“AHAHAH! Plehehease! Stohohop! Plehehease!” 

“That’s better. But still not good enough.”

“My Lohhohord! Plehehease!” So many ‘please’ from Dante himself, Eiden was drinking it up like the best potion there was. He grinned, feeling totally satisfied.

“That’s more like it.” He finally stopped tickling Dante and liked how erotic he looked while he caught his breath. His face was all flushed and red, and he really looked… hot. 

“You -” Dante wheezed. His chest was heaving with each heavy breath he took as he gasped for air,

“You - untie - me - now,” he demanded. Eiden rubbed Dante’s leg and hummed.

“After all that, you still show me this attitude, hmm? I should know you never learn.”

“....You said you’d let me go,” Dante said tiredly. 

“I said I’d stop tickling you. Not that I would untie you. And you see…” Eiden rubbed the visible bulge in Dante’s pants, making the Sun Lord blush adorably.

“I don’t leave my work unfinished,” Eiden said with a smirk.

“Hngh how dare you - Ahhh!” It took Eiden little effort to make Dante moan - just as little effort as making him laugh, and he loved how just like with tickling, it was so easy to make Dante respond to him. Eiden pleasured him with just his hand and only his hand, and all of Dante’s royal body surrendered to him. 

Eiden really had all the power right here, and he loved that Dante seemed to realize that too by the time he was moaning, cumming and crying out his name.

“That’s a good Lord,” Eiden purred. And whether he would untie Dante soon? Well, that depended on how well he behaved! 

#nu carnival #dante #eiden #tickling #tickle fic #tickle community #otomiya!writes #lee!dante #ler!eiden

[libroseitm]

I watched OFMD for the first time in late December last year, like, a month ago. I thought it was more like 6 weeks, it just goes to show how the campaign has messed with my perception of time!

When the cancellation was announced, a mere week after binging the whole thing and falling deeply in love with it, I thought, "Wow. This is the worst time to have joined a fandom in the history of ever".

A big massive HOWEVER for ya'll though, because you have turned it into the BEST time to have joined a fandom. You all have provided such a loving community and I want you to give yourselves a big old horse pat on the back. I'm enjoying campaigning SO much because of your energy and love.

I have also felt so much encouragement for my art and silly memes. OFMD is such an Aesthetically pleasing show and I feel so inspired by it. The reception to my art has been something I have literally NEVER experienced. I'm used to my art getting 3 notes TOPS. Yesterday I put up my latest fanart of Ed and it got 100+ notes overnight.

I draw because I enjoy it. But it does feel lovely to have a positive reaction and it boosts my motivation to carry on. It has also boosted my motivation even more to try and make some money from it if I can! So THANK YOU!

My memes have also garnered a hilarious amount of attention. I genuinley LOVE that my biggest post here if a fucking meme about astroglide. When I'm feeling low, I read the tags on it. They're histerical.

Also to my new mutuals: hello, I'm thrilled to have you :D :D

Thank you all. I love it here. I'm glad I can help to save this wonderful story from the gravy basket. Let's go get our damn show back!

#Ofmd #Our flag Means death #I love you ALL

[talltalesandbedtimestories]

“Hard Boot” - Dean x Reader

Part of the “Control Panel” Series

Rating Mature

Dean x Reader (Newly Established Intimate Relationship)

Tags: Dean Angst and Self-Loathing, Inability to Word, Adult Language, Dean POV

Word Count: 2500

After one night of sexual exploration, a case lured you both back into hunting mode. There was hardly time to breathe, let alone figure out how you were collectively supposed to handle this new aspect of your relationship. Is it any wonder Dean had to go and mess it up? That’s his expertise.

Note: You don’t have to read the first part, Factory Reset, to get the gist of this “What the heck are we supposed to do now? Friends to lovers” trope. But if you’re intrigued by these two, please try it.

I'm participating in @jacklesversebingo and this part will fill my "Admit it." square.

Image created in Canva (credit for photo used:  Supernatural/Warner Bros.)

The shot glass tinks atop the counter. It’s barely audible. Dean glances up and the bartender appears, summoned by the tell tale call of a drunk.

Not just any drunk. The Fuck It Up Seven Ways To Sunday kind of drunk. Also known as Dean Winchester.

The bar is deserted. It’s 1:00 pm on a Wednesday outside the touristy parts of New Orleans.

The bartender tips the whiskey bottle in her hand. Dean nods. She pours.

“So, what exactly are you tryna drown, cher? Cause it might be easier to head a little north and walk into Lake Pontchartrain.”

Dean snorts. “Trust me, that’s crossed my mind.”

All the wrinkles in the older woman’s face droop along with her frown. “It can’t be that bad. Unless you’re broke… or your heart is.” 

Dean shifts atop the stool. “My wallet’s full, thanks. Leave the bottle.”

Dean grunts at his inability to put one foot in front of the other trekking down the hallway to the hotel room. The air is spinning around him in a vortex, forcing his body to lean to the right even though his brain tries to rationally push forward. He’s in an anti-funhouse of his own creation. 

He doesn’t remember how he finally gets into the room. Just that he is. He flops on the bed. Breathes in deep and holds it. Staving off the nausea that he deserves.

You should be here. Beside him. Celebrating a win.

He closes his eyes and lets the pain and loss keep him company instead in the late afternoon.

Sleep eludes him. He tosses. Turns. Spends time with his head hanging over the toilet bowl.

He stares at the alarm clock on the nightstand as it ticks over into 10 PM territory. When his eyes peel open again, it’s sometime after 1 AM.

He sniffs the air.

He smells you.

Before he can realize it’s a mistake, he springs to sitting. The hammer nailing together a house in his head takes a back seat to the elation seeing you sat at the foot of the bed.

You look demure in your side saddle position. The patient stare has Dean wondering how long you’ve been watching him sleep.

He wants to ask. But he’s afraid anything he says is going to be wrong. So he just stares back.

Your face is void of any discernible emotion.

And that freaks Dean out more than anything. Because even when he couldn’t read you like a book, he could at least hazard a guess. Even if it was wrong, it was something.

But all he sees now is a shield. A wall that he’s caused.

“I’m gonna head out.” You state in a curt tone that leaves no room for debate.

“You already were out.” The head pounding irritation preoccupies him enough that the sass spills out, uncontrolled. Your lids slit for a second. Well, he got some reaction.

“I-” You straighten up. A sorry attempt at a laugh huffs out. “Forget it.” You’re up off the bed and snagging items dropped around the room. Things are stuffed into your bag with haste.

Dean wants the elation to return to the room. Twenty-four hours prior, you were smiling. Eager to track down the Djinn. It had been a day’s drive from Lebanon to New Orleans, with a 6-hour stop in between at the Cradle Rock Motel.

Dean would have done whatever you wanted in that motel room. All that possibility and you had him flying high on adrenaline. You’d handled him with kid gloves and given him an experience he’d cherish, even if he was still sore. He would have let you strap on Marvin again and fold him like Origami. He wanted that again. He wanted it all with you.

But all you had wanted in the end as you laid in bed was to curl up and sleep in his arms. You wanted to rest before getting back on the road in your separate rides. 

And the simple act of being with you. Static. Stationary. Silent. That was wonderful, too.

There was the promise of staying in bed for days after you took care of the monster together. Lingering lips. Suggestive smirks. Greedy gropes.

All of that was a distant memory now.

You throw the duffle over your shoulder. “Bye, Dean.”

He bungees off the bed. Rushes to the door to wedge between you and the exit. “That’s it?” His stomach roils at the exertion but he pushes it down.

Your voice doesn’t waver. “For now. Yeah.”

Dean holds his ground for another second. Two. Three. Four.

“Don’t make it worse.” You plead.

That reminds him the ownness of this whole mess is in fact on him. And he relinquishes.

And watches you walk out the door.

 

Dean clinks down the iron bunker stairs. Three weeks of hunting non-stop has joints creaking, muscles aching. He plans to beeline it to the showers and let the glorious water pressure ease some of the pain. There’s also an 80-year old bottle of Macallan in his bedroom that will ease everything else.

Sam’s out at Eileen’s. The texts back and forth earlier were short and mainly for informational purposes. Sam gave up trying to find out what was going on with Dean two weeks back. As long as he checked in and provided proof of life, Sam didn’t pester for details.

Dean marches through the war room, into the library, weaves the labyrinth of halls to get to his room.

He keeps his head down when he rounds the final corner. He doesn’t want to glimpse the door marked number 16 at the end of the hallway. It’s your bedroom. Well, whenever you crash at the bunker it’s yours.

There’s a twist in his gut when he realizes you might never sleep in that bed or cross the threshold into the Men of Letters homebase again.

He’s been avoiding returning because of all the reminders of you. The wound is as fresh and festering as it was when you left him in New Orleans. He can distract from the pain during moments occupied with cases and bad guys. This, not so much.

He opens his door, good ole number 11. 

When he left this room last, you were here with him. 

And goddammit. You’re all he can see no matter where his gaze lands.

The duffle drops onto the mattress. Another musty bed in another room in another hallway might be a better alternative tonight.

He considers it. He’ll decide for sure after his shower.

Dean grumbles when he gets back to the room.

It shouldn’t be possible and his mind must be playing tricks on him, but he thinks he catches the scent of you. 

Yeah, he can’t sleep in here tonight.

He runs a hand through his towel dried hair and peels off Tad’s robe. He toes out of the slippers and tugs on a pair of sweats and a well-worn henley. The realization he’s donned the shirt inside out takes a backseat to the more important matter of grabbing the bottle of Macallan.

He shuffles over in bare feet and squats by the cabinet under his desk. His mouth is watering in anticipation of that smooth amber-colored nectar coating his throat.

“What the fuck?” he mumbles in confusion.

The bottle is gone.

“Looking for this?”

Dean stills at the question floating over his shoulder.

The voice isn’t something he expected to hear back at the bunker anytime soon. Maybe ever.

He rises, inhales through his nose. Mentally prepares for when he turns and faces you.

When he does rotate on his heels, he purses his lips into a tight line. He can’t let the impulse to smile win out.

You're wearing one of his flannels. It’s the black, white and gray one he hasn’t worn in ages. And the way the sweatpants hang loose and baggy and obscure your feet; well, he’s pretty sure those are his, too. Leaning against the doorsill, you look as if you’re trying way too hard to appear casual about any of this. The bottle of Macallan in your grip is displayed as a peace offering.

There’s the tiniest grin quirking up your lips. You look at the bottle, then to Dean. “I was keeping an eye on it.”

Dean inspects the liquid level of the scotch as a distraction. If he stares at that mouth of yours a second longer, he’ll forgive you for anything.  “That’s about four fingers lighter than when I left.”

Your brows raise. Mouth opens. Dean knows you're ready to dispute his measurements. But something else clicks in Dean’s head and he doesn’t give you a chance.

“How long have you been staying here?”

You sigh and enter the bedroom. The bottle rests on the tiny corner table. You collapse into the chair beside it. “This’ll be my third night.”

Dean stands there. Blinks. You settling in is hopefully a good sign.

“Sam gave me a heads up that you were coming back some time tonight.”

“Why didn’t you high tail it out of here when you got wind of me?” Dean asks.

Your mouth tilts into a frown. “I came here to wait for your slow ass to return, Winchester.” You thumb at the bottle. “I may have needed some liquid courage during my stay to, you know, stick around.”

Dean crosses his arms, determined not to give an inch. Doesn’t matter how goddamn sexy you look. How your hair’s mussed from laying in bed. How his oversized shirt is unbuttoned enough at the collar to display the lovely expanse of skin from the column of your neck to the round of your shoulder. He prepares for the flailing you must have been wanting to give him so badly that you camped here for days. He tries not to think about how much he’d love to bend over so you can give him a spanking.

You stare up at him from the chair. “Oookaayyy.” Palms run over cloth-covered thighs. “I wanted to explain myself. Back in New Orleans.”

Dean shrugs, his crossed arms lifting up with the movement.

“We were a mess on that hunt.” You start. “All sorts of wrong. Second guessing. Getting in each other’s way. That Djinn got the upperhand on us because we were sloppy.”

Dean scoffs. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“You tackled it while I was about to kill the fucking thing.” You counter.

“You were getting choked out WHILE it was lighting up like an electric smurf.” Dean’s voice rises.

“I had the silver knife to its throat UNTIL you hip checked and then rolled around with Mr. Sandman doing the horizontal mambo.”

“Who was trying to pull it off me only to get a nasty throat punch?”

You raise both hands. “Look, my point is we were off our game. And I’ve never, ever had to worry about you having my back. Until that hunt.”

Dean rolls his shoulders like he’s ready to take flight. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Do you think I’m a good hunter?” you ask.

“What the hell kind of question is that?”

“A simple one.” A tap on the table precedes your rise. You stroll with purpose towards him. “Do you think I’m a good hunter?” you repeat.

“Of course I do. You might even be the third best hunter on the planet.”

You smile and, dammit, Dean melts a little. You clear your throat and the smile fades. “Then why didn’t you let me do my job?”

Dean stills. He watches your frame relax. The bravado seeps from your posture.

“Things are different between us now.” You sigh. “I hoped that what we did would bring us closer. More in sync on a hunt. But it did the exact opposite.” Another step brings you right up into Dean’s space. You latch onto a forearm. “Your head wasn’t in that hunt with me.”

“It was.”

You shake your head. “No. Your heart was. And so was mine.” Your voice breaks a little. “All I could think about was how I needed to protect you.”

“When do we not think about protecting a hunting partner?”

“That’s gotta go hand in hand with the mission, though; not take over.” The warm fingers drop from Dean’s arm. “I told Sam what happened.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “And what did Mr. Know It All have to say?”

Your shoulder lifts and almost touches your ear. “He said ‘welcome to the club.’”

“Huh?”

“Sam said you must care about me an awful lot if you were constantly undermining my ability to actually get the fucking job done. That sacrificing yourself is part of your DNA.” A full-watt smile - the one that makes Dean’s insides warm up - graces your face. “That you’ll die a hundred times over to prevent the recipient of all that care and concern from even getting a splinter in their thumb.” The snark in your tone is sharp and cutting. “Admit it.”

“Well, that’s just a flat out exaggeration.”

Suddenly, all of the playfulness in your expression is gone. You frown. “You don’t care about me like that?”

“What? No. I mean, yes, of course I care about you like that.”

“Good.” The smile returns. “Because I know for a fact that none of that is an exaggeration where Sam is concerned. You’ve figured out how to make it work with Sam. You and I are going to have to make that happen, too.”

Dean’s grinning back. “Any suggestions?”

“You could follow my lead and do what I say at all times.” You offer.

“I’m all about that in almost every scenario. Except when we’re hunting.”

You nod. “We’re not hunting now.” Dainty fingers clasp over his hand. “I’m sorry I ran away.” You whisper, staring into his eyes.

Your small frame belies your strength and formidable capability when it comes to a hunt. And though Dean’s only had one taste of your dominance in bed, you handled him with care and exerted contained control. But now Dean needs you to know how much he intends on proving his worth to you. He’s more than a deft hand wielding a machete. More than reliable backup. More than a decades long friend who can keep up with the tequila shots. He wants to be more than all of that for you. 

He wriggles from under the grip to clutch your face with both hands. “I wanna tough it out with you.”

Your head tilts up and down in his hold. “Me too.”

You raise on tiptoes as he dips his head. Your lips meet in a gentle brush of skin. Dean’s skin tingles all over.

It’s only a peck. Dean pulls back so he can witness the bliss on your face. Eyes closed, mouth parted. You release a sigh. “Can we…” you start to ask.

“Anything,” Dean murmurs.

“Can we go to sleep? Start fresh in the morning? I missed you.”

Dean thinks his face will crack at the force of his smile. “Absolutely.”

#jacklesversebingo23 #dean x reader #spn fanfiction #angst with a happy ending #dean x you #dean x female!reader

[indigosunsetao3]

Would It Be Enough?

Chapter 4 - New Job

Masterlist of Chapters

Warnings: 18+ - No minors Rated E - Please read the tags on A03 for any of your triggers

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x Original FMC 7.2k words - AO3 Link

Emma woke up from her sleep and stretched out slowly, her eyes still closed to the bright sunlight that was coming in the windows. She was surprised that she hadn’t woken up when the people around her had risen for the day, even for a heavy sleeper she never could ignore the hustle and bustle of the early morning. Maybe she was the first awake and that was why. Taking a deep breath through her nose, smelling the scent off Soap’s jacket, she rubbed her eyes before opening them to find herself staring out at a room that was definitely not the room she was sharing with others. She was the only person in here, and it was small.

Scrambling into a seated position Emma took in her surroundings and the evening before came flooding back in. She had been on the couch with Soap watching television and now she was in this room she had never seen before. Emma looked around taking in the small desk covered in papers, the reading lamp on it, the wooden portable closet that was standard issue with the door open and clothes hanging in it. Men’s clothes from what she could tell. Then the nightstand next to her that had a piece of paper that looked like it was ripped from a notebook sitting on top of a pile of clothes.

You fell asleep on the couch and I wasn’t going to leave you there. I tried to wake you a few times but you sleep like the dead. I managed to scrounge up some standard issue scrubs for you, hope they fit, Maricela said they should anyway. Don’t worry about rushing out, I’ll be gone for the day. But if you don’t want Gaz teasing you until the end of time, I suggest you slip out before we get back. Meet us for dinner in the mess hall? We should be back around six.

-Soap PS You talk in your sleep PPS Don’t be embarrassed

Too late. Emma could already feel the burn rising up from her neck to her cheeks and ears. She couldn’t believe she had fallen asleep on the couch. Then the fact she didn’t wake up and she was certain she probably cussed Soap out fully, her family used to tease her for how heavy she slept and angry she would be if anyone tried to wake her. But the icing on the cake was the fact she was certain he had carried her to bed like a little toddler and tucked her in.

“Oh my god,” Emma muttered to herself as she flung back the blankets off of her. “I’m an idiot,” she groused to herself as she turned around and made the bed she has slept in. Even if it was the most comfortable sleep she had in months, this bed a true bed and not a cot, she couldn’t believe he had done that for her. He had given her his bed and just left, probably to sleep on the couch or not sleep at all and now he was out doing whatever it was he was doing on little to no sleep because of her.

She changed quickly into the scrubs Soap had found for her and debated writing a message back to him on the blank side of the paper. But she had no idea what to write, what wouldn’t sound pathetic or weird. In the end she just folded up the paper and slipped it into her pocket before slipping out of the room and shutting the door. The area was quiet, all the bedroom doors shut and the common area was also empty and the television off. It was almost noon; she had slept the whole day away and she had so many things to take care of. First was finding Maricela and giving her back the clothes then checking in with her job to see if there were any updates.

Deciding first stop was to freshen up, Emma stopped where she should have slept last night and used the comb to brush out her hair as she sat on her cot. She kept glancing at Soap’s jacket as she did so, trying to recall anything else from the night before but nothing came. Next was the bathroom to fully freshen up. As she walking out of the community bathroom with her still damp toothbrush one of her coworkers caught her in the hall.

“We’ve been looking for you,” the older woman said, her hands folded across her chest in a disapproving manner.

“I, ah, well I went,” Emma stammered looking for a good answer. She didn’t want to tell this woman exactly where she was or what had happened.

“It doesn’t matter,” the woman supplied, “you’ve got messages in the communications hall and they seem pretty important since they sent a bunch of us to find you.”

“Right,” Emma replied feeling her heart start to hammer in her chest. What was so important that she needed to be found right away. That they sent people looking for her. “I’ll just…go there now,” she supplied.

“I suggest you do,” the woman answered and she turned watching Emma rush down the hall.

Doing her best to not assume the worst Emma sped walked to the communications area and when she was outside the door, she paused to catch her breath and run a hand through her hair. What was she going to do with her toothbrush? Looking for a trash can and finding none she just shoved it in her pocket before opening the door and walking in. There was someone working the main desk and she walked over and smiled, “I’m Emma. I heard I have some messages?”

The person working looked up at Emma instantly before grabbing a clipboard and handing it over to her. “You’re a very in demand woman today,” the man said as he fished around in a drawer and pulled out a lanyard with a clip on it. “John Price was here this morning stating you needed the badge. I’ve had Laswell call me twice now asking where you were,” he was muttering as he continued to work on the computer before looking back at her again. “I’ll need to take your picture if you could,” he gestured to the camera on the counter, similar to when you had your license picture taken at the DMV.

Emma nodded and finger combed her hair as best as she could before he snapped the picture and went back to his computer. Looking over the clipboard it was standard issue paperwork, confirming information, signing off you wouldn’t give anyone else the badge and all the other security stuff. She signed and initialed where it was needed before handing the clipboard back to him. “You said Price was here this morning?”

“Here you are,” he handed her the lanyard with her new ID badge on it, not answering her question and Emma didn’t know if he heard her or not. Then he finally responded after clicking a few more things on his keyboard. “Oh yes, he was here, then I had the head of the hospital asking about your progress as well, wanted to make sure you had all your clearance.”

Emma could feel her cheeks turning red again. All these people looking for her and she was nowhere to be found, sleeping like a cat in the sun on a bed instead of being up and useful. “Sorry I worried everyone,” she mumbled before the man handed her an envelope. The outside had her name scrawled on it in messy handwriting and she tore open the taped back to find slips of paper inside. Looked like it was all her messages. “I’ll just, get to answering all these,” she muttered but the man had already moved onto his next assignment.

There was a message from her job to call them back about an update on her contract. A message from some person called Laswell for her to call them as soon as she got the message. A message from her mother, who somehow had tracked down the base she was at and called, so typical of her. Then her job again, and another message from Laswell. This was going to go swimmingly.

Emma decided on her job first since that seemed most important, it was her and her family’s, livelihood after all. The phone only rang twice before it was picked up and the person on the other side seemed relieved but still angry that it took her so long to call them. It turned out that her contract was picked up, she was going to be staying on that base but there was a catch. She was also going to be an asset to another team but her employer couldn’t tell her exactly what it was. It was above their clearance. Emma felt her heart pounding again, that had to be the Laswell person that was trying to reach her. Her employer gave her the number to call and checking back on her messages it was the exact number Laswell had left her.

Hanging up with them she instantly dialed Laswell’s number. This time it took a few more rings before it was picked up. “About time,” the woman on the other end stated before Emma could even say hello. “I’ve called twice now. Third time I would have told Price never mind.” She didn’t sound too angry though since she finished with a small laugh.

“Ah, Price?” Emma asked confused as to why Price would be calling this woman about her of all people. She had barely spoken to the man. “I’m sorry can you tell me what this is about? My job said I have a contract to stay here but it comes with a catch and that catch was tied to you.”

“Right to the point,” Laswell responded before pausing and typing on a keyboard. “I’ve sent you a contract and some other paperwork. Look it over, take your time and read everything.” She stopped talking again for a second, it sounded as if she covered the microphone of her phone to talk to someone else before coming back. “If you agree sign everything and send it back to me and we’ll get started. If not, well, we’ll have to figure something else out.” Then the phone line went dead.

Emma stared at the phone receiver in her hand before hanging it up herself. She still needed to call her mother but that could wait. She wanted to see what this paperwork was all about and what contract. Moving from the phones Emma found an open computer and logged into it using the credentials that she received when she got her badge. Emma assumed Laswell received her email from her job so she logged into that and found the email at the top of her mailbox. There were two emails from her mother right below them but she’d get to them later.

It took her almost two hours to read through everything, print it out, read it again and sign all the dotted lines on the contract. Then she had to sign off on all the paperwork so she could get her security clearance to be part of the team that she just agreed to work with. She was still extremely confused as to why they chose her of all people. Surely there were others here that were better trained, had combat experience and knew how to handle themselves in a fight without throwing up. Yet they picked her and she wasn’t going to say no, not to how much money was involved. She could do this contract and go home without any worries about her finances for her, or her family.

Taking it over to the front desk for them to sign off as witness Emma scanned the paperwork back in and stared at it for a few more minutes before sending it to Laswell. She wanted to send it back before she second guessed herself or backed out. Then she went to her mother’s email and skimmed it before replying she would call her tomorrow, she had too many things to do today which was true.

Another brief call with Laswell had her getting instructions on where to go on the base to get fingerprinted again then for questioning. It was standard procedure, something Emma had already done to get her first contract job but now that she was getting higher security clearance, they needed to be more thorough. Laswell had warned her in the email that if she didn’t pass that the contract was null but Emma had nothing to hide. She had never lied on her paperwork including why she had been discharged from the military after just only two years of service, so she wasn’t worried about that. An hour and half later, her hand cramped from signing more documents, she was released from questioning and was to report to the hospital wing. She was starting there first thing in the morning and needed to get acquainted with her working area, as well as get her uniform.

She hadn’t eaten anything all day so she made a quick stop in the mess hall to see if she could find anything and settled on a rather bruised banana that was left in a bowl. She scarfed it down and headed to the hospital hoping that her tour and instructions wouldn’t take too long. Soap had indicated they would be back for six and she wanted to meet them for dinner. She had a ton of questions she wanted answered, first being why her.

Turns out her supervisor was the doctor that she had accosted to stitch up Soap’s arm. He didn’t seem too impressed with her attitude that day, she had basically told him where to go, what to do and how to do it, but Emma didn’t apologize. She had a job that needed to get done and they were all moving too slow for her liking. The doctor took her back to the small office they all shared to fill out yet more paperwork and go over some basic regulations. Her true training would begin tomorrow, seven am sharp. He emphasized the time to Emma as if he doubted, she could be punctual given what had happened today.

Scooping up a few sets of scrubs and two lab coats, plus some closed toe shoes, Emma glanced at a clock on the wall in the medical bay area to see it was five thirty. Thirty minutes until Soap said they would be back at in his note which gave her a little time to compose herself and get some of her racing thoughts and questions in order. She hustled back to the shared sleeping area she had been given with the others and deposited her scrubs and lab coats onto the cot. She still had Maricela’s clothes to return back to her as well but that would have to wait a little longer. She needed more space for the things she was acquiring and wished she had her tote that she used to hold all her stuff and shove it under the bed. She’d deal with that later when she went to bed.

Heading back out the door, preferring to be early rather than late, Emma headed to the mess hall. Her stomach was growling profusely now at the lack of food and the fact she could smell it now was not helping. She ran a hand over her stomach to quiet it when she heard someone call out her name. Looking over her shoulder she spotted Alex walking up the hall toward her, he looked like he had been outside rolling around in the dirt all day. His clothes were marred and he had streaks on his face where the sweat had washed away some of the dust.

“What happened to you?” Emma asked stopping in her tracks to look at him and so he could catch up.

“Work,” Alex said simply with a grin before reaching down to the scarf around his neck to wipe at his face and hair. It didn’t help much; the scarf was also filthy. “We just got back; we need to catch a shower before dinner then we’ll meet you. Didn’t want you to think we stood you up.” He said smiling a bit again, stepping off to the side as more people filtered by headed to dinner.

“Oh right, okay,” she replied, her eyes darting down the hall to see if she could see the rest of the team but it looked like Alex came on his own. “I’m starved, I haven’t eaten all day. I’m going to go ahead and eat while I wait on you all. Well, I’m assuming all of you?”

“That’s fine, shouldn’t take us long,” Alex replied, “well maybe Price. He likes to take long hot showers. Don’t tell him I told you.”

Emma laughed before Alex turned and headed back toward their area jogging a bit. She resumed her walk toward the mess hall and walked in to find the place in full swing again. It was loud and full of people already but she loaded up her plate and attempted to find a corner that was out of the way but could accommodate another six people. She felt a bit better today about the noise versus the night before, the exhaustion had played a huge part in her anxiety being off the charts. She still didn’t enjoy how loud it was but she could at least tolerate it now.

Eating her meal Emma watched the main door for any sign of the group, while nicely telling a few people that the seats were taken when they stopped to try and sit. She wished the group would hurry up, she didn’t like turning people away, especially when they looked back at her and saw the spots were still empty a few minutes later. She was almost done with her meal when the first of them walked through the door, Gaz followed by Crane. They looked different out of their field uniforms, which is all she had seen them in so far except for Soap in his pajamas.

She waited for them to look her way before she waved a hand, feeling a bit silly, but Gaz returned the wave before getting in line for food. At least they knew where to go now and she didn’t feel as ridiculous eating alone. The line took them a while and she had just finished her meal when Gaz and Crane took a seat on the bench opposite of her, setting their overfilled trays down with a clatter.

“Evening,” Gaz said with a grin before stuffing almost an entire roll into his mouth. “Heard you were miss popular on the base today,” he said around the roll once he managed to swallow half of it and moving on to crack open his water.

“I, ah, how do you know that?” Emma asked him raising an eyebrow, “I thought you were all gone today?” Her eyes darted up to the food line to see that the other four had shown up, Ghost still in his face mask, and were presently being served their food. How Ghost was going to eat with that she wasn’t sure but that was the least of her worries at the moment.

“Oh, we were,” Crane replied as he stabbed at his plate, also smirking like a cat. “But Price was on comms most of the day and you were brought up. A lot. Something about not being able to find you. Then needing to know how far along you were in your clearance interview.” He stated before looking at her and chewing on his food as if waiting for an answer.

“Yes, well, I didn’t realize anyone had been looking for me,” Emma answered feeling her neck heat up a bit. “And I haven’t heard back about that just yet, I only finished it a few hours ago doesn’t that take a while to come back?”

“Not when Laswell wants answers, it doesn’t,” Gaz supplied as he adjusted his ball cap on his head so it was flipped backwards. “I’m sure Price has already heard, he’s not exactly patient when he wants things done.”

As if summoning them out of the air, Price, Ghost, Soap and Alex were there all moving to take their seats on the bench. All of them were in their casual clothes, though it seemed most of their casual clothes were still some sort of military fatigue and a t-shirt. Price took a seat directly opposite of Emma next to Gaz, tossing a folder he had tucked under his arm onto the table before he sat. Alex took up a spot on one side of Emma, Soap on the other and Ghost on Soap’s left.

They all smelled of shampoo and fresh laundry and she noted that their hair was all still damp which was probably why Gaz and Price had hats on. Emma looked at the envelope that sat in the middle of the table, it was thick and stamped across it in bold red letters ‘confidential’. She swallowed and waited for someone to say something but everyone was quietly eating and looking at her if they wanted her to lead this conversation. Though Gaz was still smirking to himself and Soap was glaring at him as if daring him to try and say something. The silence was growing heavy and Emma finally gave in.

“Can someone tell me what this is all about?” She finally stated, pushing her tray away from her and crossing her arms. “I woke up this morning to a bunch of messages, my job stating I needed to renew my contract by today, the earlier the better. A woman named Laswell sent me a contract and packet that took me two hours to get through, but she didn’t tell me a whole lot of what was happening either. I had to be reinterviewed and finger printed to receive top secret clearance and now I’m apparently being talked about all over the base?”

“This morning?” Price asked her raising an eyebrow. “From what I understand you were nowhere to be found until after lunchtime,” he stated matter-of-factly before taking a bite of his own dinner.

“They would have found her if they just looked in MacTavish’s room,” Ghost ground out as he picked at his food with his fingers on his plate. Everyone looked up at Ghost then, including a red-faced Emma. “Didn’t realize I was the only person who knew. He needs retraining on his stealth if he thought that was sneaky,” he added before wiping his fingers on a napkin and looking at the rest of the group.

If Emma could have melted into the floor she would have, right then and there. Just disappeared to never be seen again. Her ears felt hot and she thought she could hear faint ringing in them. The rest of the group was smirking into their food, not daring to make eye contact with one another, let alone Soap.

“Listen it’s not what it,” Emma started but Soap interrupted her.

“She fell asleep on the couch and I wasn’t leaving her out there for you louses to find her and wake her up,” Soap answered, not looking the least bit embarrassed. “And why not my bed, wasn’t like I was using it anyway.” He shrugged before moving to eat his meal, but he gently knocked his knee into Emma’s under the table in a silent reassurance.

“Right, well now that’s out of the way,” Price stated he pointed toward the file on the table with his fork. “Your clearance is in. I need you to go over this file this evening then your training starts tomorrow.”

“My training? You mean in the hospital?” Emma asked as she unfolded her arms and reached for the packet and pulled it toward her. She felt items shift inside as if there were multiple files inside of it and some loose pieces of paper.

“Yes. You’ll start your day there then you’re with us,” he answered her. “It’s all in there. You can read it after dinner in your new barracks. It’s not for anyone else’s eyes but ours. When you are done reading it needs to be locked away in your gun safe in your room. No one is to know what is in that file or what you are up to.”

Emma could feel her heart racing again, the burn of embarrassment in her cheeks gone but still feeling hot from the anxiety. What had she gotten herself into? All these secrets and now extra training. She hadn’t held or shot a gun in years, after her injury discharged her from the Air Force, she gave all that up and focused solely on school.

“New barracks?” She inquired because that seemed like the only thing she could ask about at the moment since everything else seemed so secretive to the point she had to read this file alone.

“You’ve got a room down with us now. Your stuff’s already been moved in there,” Price explained before pointing at Alex and Soap, “anything’s missing it’s their fault. They collected it all.”

“I don’t have much besides my new work uniform so I doubt anything is missing,” Emma answered.

“We found your tote,” Alex chimed in and Emma turned to face him, her face obviously displaying her confusion. “We went back to the hospital today. There were a few,” he paused, “loose ends to tie up. While we were there Soap and I found the old living quarters and pulled out a few things that we could find and brought them back. A tote with your name on it was one of them and we found a few others.”

That explained why Alex had been so dirty and dusty, he must have been crawling around in fallen rubble all day. All of them probably had been and while she knew it hadn’t just been for her, she was a little overwhelmed at the gesture from them to try and find her things and bring them back to her.

“Thank you,” she said quietly looking from him then over to Soap who just nodded a welcome to her. She didn’t know what else to really say as she sat there waiting for them to finish eating. She wasn’t ready to get up just yet since while she knew where their area was, she didn’t know which room was hers. Luckily the group started talking amongst themselves, filling in the silence that had fallen until it was no longer there.

Ghost hadn’t touched any of his food and eventually he was the first person to get up, taking a few items off his tray with him and leaving the mess hall. That answered that question, how he ate. He must do it alone, hiding his face for whatever reason was more important to him than eating. No one in the group even acknowledged what had happened, so this was a normal occurrence then. Emma took note of it, if she was going to be working with them, she had to get to know them and how they worked.

“Come on, you’ll need a uniform then I’ll show you your room,” Soap said as he wiped his face with his napkin and rose from his seat. The rest of the team was still talking but Emma could have sworn she saw Gaz give Alex a look when Soap made the offer to show her. She bit the inside of her cheek to tamper down another wave of embarrassment, and maybe annoyance, at the look. “I guessed at the size for your scrubs but those are a little more forgiving than military uniforms.” He grinned rising from his seat, ignoring Gaz who had choked on his water at the last comment.

“Another uniform?” Emma asked as she grabbed her tray and packet from the table and followed him toward the trash then out the door. “What do I need another uniform for?”

“For your training with us. Your scrubs aren’t going to hold up very well outside of the hospital setting,” Soap explained as he hipped open the door and allowed her to walk past. “It’s just standard issue stuff nothing fancy.” He gestured to his own pants and boots that he was wearing to indicate that is what hers would look like as well.

Emma’s eyes roved over him, taking in the pants and boots before moving up to his chest then finally his face. “Yes, well I doubt I will fill in my clothes as well as you do yours,” she responded. She was going to feel utterly foolish wearing military clothing when she wasn’t part of the military anymore, it was going to feel like she was an imposter. She wouldn’t even wear civilian clothing with fatigue print on them.

“I think you’ll fill them in just fine,” Soap said with a laugh and a wink which caused Emma to feel that creeping blush again. “It’s just protective wear for when you’re out in the field. No one is expecting you to be as brawny as us,” he joked.

“Out in the field?” Emma nearly squeaked but Soap put a finger to his lips to silence her, his eyes looking around the area to make sure they were alone. “What do you mean out in the field with you?” She asked again a little more quietly. “I’ve never seen combat. I was only a few years into my service when I was injured and discharged and that was years ago. The most action I saw were military games.”

“You need to read your packet, it’s all in there. Don’t worry about all that just yet. Remember what we talked about last night? About the fact you were unprepared before? We’re going to make sure you’re more prepared this time. And you aren’t going to be sent out there to fight on your own,” he grinned before coming to a stop outside of the laundry. “We’ll talk more about it later after you’ve read.”

Emma had been too engrossed in their conversation and all the questions in her head to even realize the path they had taken to get here. She would need to know where this was eventually and she made a note to try and find it again on her own.

The attendant had Emma walk back with her to get her measurements. Soap offered to wait for her outside, taking a spot on a bench and holding her packet for her. She made him swear he wouldn’t open it which only made him laugh since he probably already knew everything inside. But the last thing she needed was on day one confidential packet being compromised. He promised to be good and put the packet in his lap and that’s where Emma found him ten minutes later, his head resting on the wall behind him with his eyes closed.

She paused for a moment, he hadn’t seemed to realize she was there, and Emma looked at him. He looked exhausted, the dark circles under his eyes stood out in the dim lighting of the hallway. His hair was mussed, even in a mohawk she could tell he must have just towel dried off before coming to dinner versus combing it out. He had his arms crossed over his chest loosely and she could see the bandage over the cut on his arm had been freshly changed so he was keeping up with that thankfully. But she also took in the fact how massive his arms actually were as they rested across his broad chest. Her eyes flicked down his stomach to his waist then finally down his legs which were spread comfortably in front of him, her packet sitting neatly over his belt buckle and lap.

“You ready?” Soap asked her quietly with his eyes still closed, but a smile on his lips.

Emma jumped and cleared her throat, so he had known she was there and just sat there waiting for her to finish ogling him. Jerk. She should have known he would have picked up on her standing there, he probably heard her coming from a mile away in these damned flip flops. “Ready,” she answered doing her best to not flush. She extended her hand out to take her packet from him and he handed it over before pushing up off the bench. She saw the smirk lingering on his lips before he straightened his face, he must have enjoyed the fact she had been staring at him, but he didn’t say anything else about it.

“Your room is at the end of the line,” he explained on their way there. “You’re next to Gaz. He snores so I suggest moving your bed away from the shared wall, they are thin. That’s what I had to do, I’m on the other side of him. Alex is next to me, then Crane, Ghost and Price at the other end.”

“You snore too,” Alex stated as he came up the hallway behind them having left dinner himself. “But the worst is Price, that’s why he’s down at the other end and Ghost is next to him. He’s the only one that can take it,” he grinned as they made it to their little area common room. Ghost was sitting at the small table, his food eaten and mask on in its usual place. Ghost looked up at their arrival but didn’t say anything and instead went back to the book he had propped on the table.

“This way,” Soap said gesturing with his right arm toward the sleeping area. Emma followed as Alex broke off from them to go talk with Ghost. Emma could feel Ghost’s eyes on her as she walked but they turned around a wall and he was out of sight.

“There’s a small bath at the end of the hall, no shower but a sink and toilet so you don’t have to go all the way to the communal bathroom in the middle of the night,” he pointed to the door at the opposite end of the hall they were in before stopping at another door.

“Home sweet home,” Soap said as he opened the door. The room layout was exactly like his had been, down to the little desk and the propped open portable closet. There was a safe down by where shoes were stored, something she hadn’t noticed in Soap’s before but he had a bunch of stuff in his closet compared to her barren one. “Gaz’s bed is on the other wall so you should be good,” he grinned before pointing at the tote on her desk. “I grabbed everything I could find that looked like it could be yours. Most of it was already in the tote. And of course, everything that you had on that cot in the makeshift sleeping area.”

“Thank you,” Emma replied with a small smile, turning to look at him. “I really appreciate you all doing that. I’m sure that cost you extra time,” she replied, “and wasn’t exactly safe either.” Her eyes looked over at the tote that was sitting on the desk. It was dusty and dirty; one side had a giant crack in it and she could see where someone had slapped some tape on part of it to hold it together.

“It was Alex’s idea. Price said we had an hour so we made the most of it,” he shrugged. “We found some other stuff that belongs to your coworkers and brought it back too.” He followed her eyes to the tote before looking back at her when she spoke again.

“Did you find any,” Emma hesitated before plowing on, “any bodies?” She finished a bit numbly, moving to take a seat on her bed not sure how she would handle the answer. On one hand she hoped that the bodies were still there to be recovered but on the other the thought of them laying there for that long was dismal.

“Ah,” Soap rubbed the back of his neck, “some, yes. That wasn’t our objective though but there was another crew there on retrieval. I don’t know if they found your friend, we walked the same path you all took that night. They had already cleaned out that area by the time we got there.” He was sparing the details of what he had seen. Such as the trails of blood where bodies had been dragged, all the flies that were still lingering and some of the threats written on the walls in what he assumed was some of the victim’s blood.

Emma nodded and pushed back the tears in her eyes, “I need to reach out to his wife. I didn’t really know her so I have no idea what to say but I need to send my condolences.” She would tell her what happened, not all the gory details, how her husband had died helping someone else in need. It’s what Ronald did and while he shouldn’t have been dead at all it was a fitting way for him to go.

“I’m sure she’ll appreciate it nonetheless,” Soap said with a reassuring smile. A silence fell between them before he tacked on a bit more cheerfully, “you need to get to reading. That packet is pretty thick and if you’re going to be prepared for tomorrow you need to study up.” He grinned; he knew exactly what she was getting into when she read the damned packet. He almost seemed excited at the prospect of what she was going to find in there.

“Right,” Emma said as she pulled the envelope into her lap from where she had tossed it on the nightstand and moved to break the tape sealing it shut. “Am I allowed to discuss it with you after I read it?” She asked as Soap moved to exit the room.

“This time, yes, I know exactly what is in there and already have most of it memorized anyway,” he grinned, “but who knows you may surpass me with your clearance one day and not be allowed to talk to me about anything.” He was in the hallway now and his hand was on the door handle. “Read up and get some sleep. I’ll answer any questions you have tomorrow.” And with that he shut the door leaving Emma alone in her new room.

“Goodnight then,” Emma said sarcastically to the now closed door and on the other side she heard Soap laugh and return the sentiment.

Deciding to just get right to it and start reading, she peeled off the scrubs she had worn that day and opened her tote to pull out a t-shirt of hers. It certainly didn’t smell like fresh laundry but it wasn’t horrendous either. She would need to send all of her meager clothes to the laundry she suspected, especially since the side of the tote had been cracked open letting in dirt and dust. Pulling back the blanket on her bed she moved to hop in when she spotted something under her three pillows. She lifted one pillow up and smirked a bit, it was Soap’s jacket tucked neatly under everything. She knew Soap had to of put it there, as well as snagged her the extra pillow.

Leaving the jacket right where it was, she propped two pillows up and settled into the bed and pulled out all of the paperwork. As she suspected there were multiple files inside, each one with a person’s name written on the tab. They were all the 141 task force members she realized as she thumbed through and read through all the names. Then there was some loose paperwork as well. She flipped the loose paperwork around properly and stacked it neatly on her nightstand, she would get to those later. She was more curious about these files on the men she was now working with.

Starting with Alex first, she flipped open the file and began to look it over. There was his picture paperclipped on the lefthand side and on the right was paperwork. Some of the file still had redacted things in them but overall, it seemed it was a summary of his life. Where he went to school, his training, what military branch he served with, his ranking, missions he accomplished, his specialties, his psychology testing, where he worked after the military, when he started with the task force and things he accomplished with them. It delved further into personal things as well, some that seemed like the military would need to know and others filled in on post-it notes over the years from either Alex himself or his teammates. Such as his favorite flavor of coffee, something Emma suspected the military could care less about.

It took her a few hours to get through the stack. Ghost’s file had been the smallest with no pictures and it had the most redactions. She had saved Soap’s for last, not really sure why but she kept shifting it to the bottom of the pile as she finished each one. It was all an insightful read that she knew she’d need to refer back to multiple times before she remembered everything. She realized when she closed Soap’s file, her eyes lingering on his picture for a moment before she did so, that they probably all had a file on her as well. What would they find in there? Would they even find it interesting? She was sure it would seem so pathetically short and small compared to everything they had all done. She guessed she would have to fill in the more personal touches herself because there was no one else to add that to her file.

The clock on the wall showed it was almost eleven and she still hadn’t gone through the other stack of papers. Groaning she reached for those next and went through them. They were all about the work she would be doing with the 141, the training she would receive, how the group functioned together, what they needed from her, how she would fit in, and what she could expect from them in return. She mused over all of it for a few more minutes before getting up and putting all the paperwork in the safe in her closet. She used her badge to lock it, tugging on it to make sure it was secure before standing up.

She needed to get to sleep, her shift at the hospital started at seven sharp then she was meeting the 141 at one to begin her work with them. Digging around in her tote for the old-fashioned alarm clock her father gave her, since electricity wasn’t reliable where she was at before, she pulled it out and cranked it. Setting the alarm for five thirty, to have enough time to shower and eat before work, Emma flipped off her light to the room and crawled into bed in the peaceful dark.

Emma’s hands slid under the pillows as she stretched out on her stomach and she curled her fingers into the fabric of Soap’s jacket. Distantly she could hear snoring, she assumed it was Gaz, but it was quiet enough to be ignored between the sound of the air system running and the soft ticking of her alarm clock. She adjusted a few times in the bed, but her hands never let go of the jacket before sleep found her.

#fanfic #fanfiction #call of duty fanfic #cod fanfic #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #ao3 author #my fic #soap fanfic #call of duty #cod #johnny soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #soap cod #soap x oc #would it be enough?

[feywhimsy]

requesting ambrosia for that ask game pretty please 🙏

ofc!! also tagging @invinciblerodent because they also requested her ♥

this got quite long, so I'm putting it under a cut. thank you both for asking about her, i adore her so much and being able to talk about her is always so wonderful 💕

Full Name: Just Ambrosia. Her "real" name is Lysarra, but circumstance had led to that name being dropped. In her original campaign, the name change was a conscious choice on her part on her journey to becoming a cleric of Nusemnee. For bg3 though, it was a result of the memory loss! When she woke on the nautiloid she was clutching a holy symbol with "Ambrosia" etched on the back, so she assumed that was her name.

Pronouns: She/her!

Gender and Sexuality: Ambrosia has never really thought about her gender and feels comfortable in her gender. She also has never tried to put a label on her sexuality, and struggles to put it into words. She also believes she can't and shouldn't get close to anyone, given who she is and what she struggles with. She doesn't want to hurt them. She's also never really assumed she'd be lucky enough to be in a relationship, and life has... really not been kind to her. Knowing what I know about her, and her past, I'd pin it as like... demiromantic-bisexual? She definitely has to know someone before she can open up to them romantically, even though she desperately craves that connection.

Ethnicity/Species: I don't have a lot to say here. She's a human, she didn't grow up in one place, and given she's trying to shed her past, there isn't anything she feels a strong connection to.

Birthplace and Birthdate: Ambrosia was born small village named Triel, north east of Elturel, to parents that did not care about her. Before she was sold, they never celebrated her birthday, and the mercenary group she was part of didn't care about any of that either. She doesn't know her exact age, but she'd estimate she's in her late 20s. (I'm going to say her birthday is in 1464, making her 28 at the time of the events of the game.)

Guilty Pleasures: murder drinking an entire bottle of wine on her own. Ambrosia is quite Large so it doesn't hit her quite as hard as it might others, but she still feels bad when she drinks an entire thing herself sometimes.

Phobias: I haven't really thought about this before, but something in my guy tells me Ambrosia is a bit claustrophobic.

What They Would Be Famous For: Ambrosia is delightfully unremarkable in most ways. She doesn't want to be famous, she doesn't like that kind of attention. If she had to be, though, she would hope it wasn't for the murders. Something that would leave a positive impact on the world.

What They Would Get Arrested For: Beating up people who are mean to kids. She might not consciously remember what happened to her as a child, but there's some scrap of it there in her subconscious, and it really shaped who she is. If she sees a child getting mistreated, especially by their parents, it takes a lot for her to keep her cool. She'll do anything and everything to care for that kid and show them their worth. The Arabella situation was hard for her, because she had half her brain thinking about the tragedy of it all, and the other part of her screaming to step in and ruin Kahga's week.

Favorite Movie/Book Genre: Ambrosia grew up poor and then was sold off to a mercenary group, so she doesn't actually know how to read 💔 But if she's listening to stories, she loves a slow-burn romance. Not that she would ever admit it out loud. But her life has been such a mess, just a simple slice of life story of people falling in love despite the circumstances always gets to her.

Least Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: Fake happy endings, especially if the happy ended was worked for/deserved. To rip it away at the last second is the worst thing you could do to someone, she just hates it. (She does not realize how this relates to her own life.)

Talents and/or Powers: Mechanically, Ambrosia is a War Cleric with proficiency in Intimidation, Persuasion, Medicine, Athletics, and Insight. Despite having no proficiencies in it, Ambrosia is really good with animals, she loves them a lot and they're her lil buds! Original Ambrosia loved dogs, so getting Scratch in this game was just so!! good! she got to live her best life and have a friend!

Why Someone Might Hate Them: Ambrosia is. So stubborn. About even the most trivial things. She has her way of doing things, she has ideas of how things are going to happen, and she doesn't back down. Back in her original campaign this was a huge problem, because she was convinced she could show Strahd the harm he'd done and convince him on the path to be better. That obviously did not go well, but she never gave up.

Why Someone Might Love Them: Ambrosia is so stubborn. She refuses to accept a bad outcome to situations, she works hard to make sure everyone's happy and getting what's best for them. That includes herself, she's very hard on herself about the mistakes she's made and for the things she's done, the people that have died because of her. But it also means she pushes her party members into what's good for them and their well being! And she's always searching for solutions to whatever they might be dealing with, because her friends deserve good things happening to them.

How They Change: This is likely still a work in progress, as I'm only in Act 2 with Ambrosia, but so far she's learned to be a lot kinder with herself when it comes to her urges. She was actually able to open up to her party about what she was dealing with, initially out of necessity because of what happened at camp, but as time went on she realized she could trust them to help her through dark times.

Why You Love Them: Ambrosia was my... second? Third? D&D character ever. She was made for a Curse of Strahd campaign that sadly never finished. It makes me so happy to have her have a place again, and to get a story that has been so satisfying! I've always wanted to see how her story ends, and while a lot of her original plot was dropped (she ran like a redemption paladin, though mechanically a war cleric), she's still very much herself and it's just. So amazing. I'm hoping there's a happy ending option for Urge, because my girl has been through a lot, and I'd like to see her happy.

as a bonus for making it to the end of this post: here is my playlist of all of my ambrosia vibes music! it's all stuff from her old campaign, but most of them still apply. i'm going to make a bg3 version soon ♥

#thank you so muuuuch i hope this wasn't too much #sorry it took me forever to write. long day at work left me with little energy to think </3 #but i really appreciate it SO much #i hope u like my girl #i really need to finish her playthrough so i can finalize her story #bg3: ambrosia #ask

[ann1-wr1tes]

Vincent Smith NSFW Alphabet

Dynamics: Vincent Smith x Fem!Reader

Tags: @cyberp-1-nk

Synopsis: Spicy Alphabet

Warnings: Oc stuff, Adult themes, obviously smut, tread with caution.

A/N: Since i'm doing spicy alphabets I decided to do some for my bbgs (aka my ocs). Honestly don't really expect anyone to be interested in my oc stuff lol, so this is pretty self indulegent-

---------

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

-Very caring, very attentive. Vince won't even let you worry about him until he's done worrying over you. This man always likes to take a moment to hold you, kiss all over your body and whisper hushed praises and compliments. Then he'll pick you up and run you a nice warm bath with salts and those really good smelling candles. If you're extra lucky he may take the time to get in with you or he might do that one thing where he reads to you while you just chill in the bath.....inspo from this

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

-His favorite part on his partner's body would be the eyes. He just adores watching his partner's eyes light up with excitement or cloud with lust, there's just something so deep and intimate about it. Oh and he also loves boobs.

-On himself he likes his chest the best, his pecs in particular. He knows he's got some muscle there. Not to mention he's got nipple piercings. Just saying. He also likes his voice. Is husky and deep and has that thick southern drawl to it...

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

-When Vince cums its thick, warm, and a lot. To say the least. He really prefers cumming inside his partner. It just feels a lot better than pulling out and he secretly wishes he had a family....ofc if you don't want kids he understands

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

-Vince really wants someone to just cover up all his scars with hickies and marks. His scars that cover his entire torso have always been a huge insecurity of his but if someone were to leave scratches down his back, kiss marks and hickies on his chest and stomach, enough to cover up all the marks from his past, he might feel better about them.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

-Pretty experienced. He had his fair share of hook-ups in college and definitely knows what he's doing.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

-One of his favorite positions is face-off. He loves how close it, having his partner in his lap while he gets to slowly fuck them. Or of course he always enjoys cuddle fucking. Early in the morning or super late at night when he's too tired to do much but he's still pent up enough to have sex.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

-He can be a little humorous. He might poke a little fun at you here and there but when it comes down to it he's pretty serious. He's so set on making his partner and himself feel as good as possible.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

-Incredibly clean. He takes pride in being well groomed and he just prefers to stay clean shaven down there.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

-He can be very intimate. He doesn't just sleep with anyone and due to his insecurities with his scars, he is not one to go around and just fuck anybody. So when he does sleep with someone it's very intimate. We're talking intertwined hands, deep and passionate kisses and love filled gazes.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

-I honestly don't think Vince has that much time to really rub one out due to his work and how busy he is, but he does so every once in a while. When he does it's less out of pleasure and more so out of the need to just get that stress relief.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

-Definitely has a slight breeding kink and is really into praise (giving and receiving). Also you could always just play with his chest. (mess with his piercings and see what happens)

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

-Won't ever do anything in public. He is not one for taking any risks and certainly does not want anyone seeing him or his partner in the act. So he'll always be happy in his bed or in his cabin where it's just him and his partner.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

-Kiss his neck, maybe suck on his piercings a little bit, run your fingers through his hair. But also call him a "pretty boy" that will really get him.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

-He refuses to do anything that could harm his partner. No choking, no usage of guns or knives, he's even a little apprehensive when it comes to spanking/hitting. He just doesn't want to cause his partner any physical harm.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

-Absolutely prefers to give. He could spend hours between his partner's thighs, licking and sucking. It's one of his favorite things to do and he is one of those guys that would beg you to sit on his face.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

-Usually his pace is slow and sensual. He wants you to feel every part of him, feel every touch and every graze of his lips. He really likes to take his time.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

-Not huge into quickies. He'd rather have all the time in the world with you than rush it.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

-Nope. Not a huge risk taker either. He prefers to be safe and comfortable.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

-Vince is more on the tired side usually but I think he could last a few rounds. Then maybe some after he rests for a little while.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He himself doesn't own toys but if he partner owned any or wanted to use any on him he'd be open. He'd probably be most willing to try a vibrating cock ring or something along those lines...

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

-Not really a big tease. Unless of course you are a brat, then he'll be more than happy to put you in your place.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

-He's honestly too tired to care about how loud he is so he's pretty vocal. It usually starts out with slurred words and mumbled praises then turns into raspy moans and pants. He gets louder the closer he is to cumming.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

-If you take the time to trace and kiss his scars, he'd do the same. He wouldn't ask about what happened unless you want to tell but he'll lay there, tracing and kissing over all your marks and scars lovingly.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

-More longer than it is thick and has a few prominent veins running on the underside of his shaft. When he's aroused his tip turns a pretty pink.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

-Honestly, pretty high. He tries to ignore it but there's a reason he wakes up in the middle of the night hard as a rock.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

-He will always make sure to stay awake long enough to make sure his partner is asleep. Might be him being paranoid but he just wants to make sure everything stays safe and that his partner is comfortable before he succumbs to sleep.

#ocs #i love ocs #vincent smith #vince my bbg #oc smut #simp party my beloved #simp party #simp party smut