Heart Changes: A Stranger Things FanFic - Masterlist
Summary: Nothing is ever simple, is it? School? Bullies and tough teachers are always on you for one thing or another. Family? Younger siblings are always in your business, not to mention parents.
There is one good thing though. Being in a small town where nothing crazy ever happens, right?
Jules Henderson is a fan of the Theater - acting and dancing mostly. She hopes to study in New York and eventually get onto Broadway one day.
But before all that, she has to make her way through the final years of High School.
Along with all the dramatics of Hawkins High, she is about to find out just how little she knows not only about what happened to her kid brother's friend last year but also about the people around her.
(Eventual) Pairings: OC Henderson x Eddie Munson // OC Henderson x Billy Hargrove (might change to someone else...)
Warnings: 18+, angst, friends to lovers, mentions of mild drug and alcohol use, slow burn, coming of age, hurt/comfort, lots of fluff, first love, high school crushes, mutual pining, bullying, trauma & PTSD, unexpressed feelings, gaslighting, physical violence (not with OC), fix-it fan fiction, lots of music and LotR references, also first-time for Virgin!fem OC, smut (starts mild, but gets... more),
Authors Note: Let me know if I missed any particular Warnings, please. I haven't had much practice with my writing for a bit (not to mention feedback has been scarce), and I just write what comes to me.
I will also post this story on my Wattpad, which is where I have other pieces I am working on at the moment. (I know, too many pies, spreading myself too thin, blah blah blah)
I'm also slow to post because I over analyse every detail of the canon text (OCD) and need it precisely right. But if you enjoy what I write, you can *buy me a coffee*
All Divider art in the posts is from @firefly-graphics
the sinclairs' new neighbour arrives out of the blue on a random friday night in may and subsequently becomes the object of eddie munson's desires.
tw: explicit sexual content, 18+ minors dni. virgin!eddie, oral male receiving, eddie's pov. pathetic amounts of pining. no use of y/n.
you've been around after every hellfire meeting for a month now, waiting with legs crossed and swinging from a fold-out table as you sit patiently for them to wrap it up, and fuck if you're not the most distracting thing eddie munson has ever laid eyes on.
you join in on the end-of-game conversations every week, a genuine little interest in the lilt of your voice as you ask questions and join in with the banter, which usually consisted of ribbing mike wheeler for being a little shit.
and, eddie's not dumb, okay? he knows you're only here because you're picking up the sinclair siblings every week, taking a bit of the load off steve harrington, who's been designated chauffeur for a year now, much to his own dismay.
but, sometimes, he thinks you maybe like being here and spending late friday evenings in their presence. and it's a nice little delusion for eddie to live in until he's home and safely tucked under his sheets, thinking of your cute laugh and your flirty smile when he slides a hand under his sleep shorts.
he's only a man. a pervert of a man, absolutely. but he'll feed into his delusions and feed into his daydreams, because it's not hurting anybody but himself in the confines of his room.
things are shadowy and hazy this particular friday, and eddie sure as shit is not on his game. he's stuttering and fumbling over his words, which wheeler is using to his advantage like the dickhead he is, mocking eddie with every fuck up with that stupid fucking face he makes.
eddie calls it a day earlier than usual because his head just isn't in the game damnit, and henderson claps him on the back on his way out, giving him this sincere smile which eddie kind of hates because dustin usually takes every opportunity to add himself into their shithead-ery.
oh god, he was worse than he thought. he needs to hang his hat up and give his job over to zombie boy byers immediately.
eddie doesn't get out of his head quick enough to realise that harrington arrived and left with all of the kids in tow, the sinclairs included.
so when you arrive at the door a half hour later, a confused look on your face, eddie's face fucking falls.
"damn, did harrington want his old job back that badly he kidnapped my kids?" you laugh quietly, all sincerity and jokes as you look around the empty room, eyes landing on eddie with a sparkle.
"it's my fault, i let everybody go early and i-" eddie groans, putting his hands on his hips then dropping them to his sides, "i didn't think. sorry, sweetheart."
sweetheart. why'd he fucking say that? someone needs to get the shotgun and put him down like old yeller.
eddie makes himself busy by packing away all his stuff, pointedly not looking in your direction because he's an idiot piece of shit, and who knows what other mess will come out of his mouth if he keeps letting himself look at you.
"you seem stressed, eddie," you observe quietly, a statement. you cross your arms behind your back, fingertips linking together, "is there anything i can do to help?"
eddie lets out this little self-deprecating laugh, a mirthless smile on his features, "unless you stop showing up here, no, there's nothing you can do."
a hurt look flashes across your face momentarily before it disappears again, masked over with a confused furrow of your brows, "oh. i'm sorry, have i done something wrong?"
eddie's fucking this up. he's a fucking idiot, who apparently can't talk to any girl who isn't ronnie or little erica sinclair.
"just, y'know, consuming my brain so much that i can't focus on anything else lately, so." eddie admits, deflated as he slumps into his chair and rolls his neck until he's looking up at the ceiling. his throat clicks audibly, dry and scratchy.
"oh." you say again, a relieved sigh escaping you as you kick a leg out to bash his shin lightly with the toe of your boot, "why didn't you say something? that's- that's okay. lucas kind of figured, he told me your moon eyes were annoying him."
eddie's kicking them all out. hellfire will be no more. he's sick of these damn kids.
he covers his face with his hands, rubbing against his two day stubble with calloused fingertips. a useless groan escaping him, "sorry, i wasn't trying to be obvious. girls don't. hmm."
eddie stops himself with a grunt, trying to narrowly escape the word vomit that threatens to spill out. he's nervously jiggling his leg, the chains on his jeans clattering together obnoxiously loud in the otherwise quiet room.
he feels your presence enter his orbit, the soft press of your hand on his knee stopping the motion of his jerky leg.
"don't be so nervous," you scold playfully, voice light like you're trying to hide a smile, "i'm not anybody to be nervous around. i like that you noticed me, that i'm somebody you're interested in."
eddie's hands fall away from his face at that, and he blinks blearily, head lolling until he catches sight of you crouched down in front of him, staring up with these gorgeous eyes that eddie just wants to get lost in.
"really?" he asks dumbly, brain short-circuiting at the sight of you knelt down like this in front of him, his stupid mind wandering into filthy territory.
"really." you nod, smiling up at him with this thousand-watt thing that he's sure could power the whole of hawkins, "i'm interested, too. in case i wasn't being obvious enough by hanging around here willingly every week."
you weren't obvious at all. not at all. or maybe you were and eddie's just a fucking moron.
"can i help relieve some of that stress now?" you ask, head tilted to the side in question, "i'm only down here anyway."
eddie's brain melts out of his ears, he's pretty sure. his tombstone is sure to say here lies eddie munson, killed by the insinuation of a blowjob.
"oh, you don't have to- you really don't have to, ha, your hands are on me, fuck-"
the conversation kind of fades out after that, and you're all action dropping from your deep squat to thud your knees against the floor softly.
and you're so pretty on your knees for him, eyelashes fluttering across the apples of your cheeks that are flushed and warm. eddie practically melts into his chair as you paw at his jeans, fluid motions and featherlight touches like you've done this before, and god he doesn't want to think about that right now, that you've done this for other guys before him. not when you're laid out below him and nudging in between his spread legs with pursed lips, spitting over the flushed head of his dick to dampen it further.
"you should- you should know i've never done this bef- fuck, fuck," eddie stutters over his words, fingers clawing into the arms of the chair when you begin mouthing hot and wet over the leaking slit that continues weeping pathetically with every lave of your tongue.
he tried, okay? he tried to tell you, but he's a weak man and - and you're fucking looking at him with these pretty, knowing eyes like you had a clue from the beginning, and fuck was it really that obvious?
he clenches his eyes shut, trying to will away the images of a neon sign over his head that scream eddie munson, adult virgin.
you start off slow and savouring, lapping at him with these kitten licks and mouthing down the bulging vein on the underside. eddie thinks he's delirious, because he's surely imagining the way you're inhaling the musky scent of him, moaning prettily as you do.
"mm, fuck," eddie groans quietly, hips shakily punching up when you finally sink down over the head of his cock properly with your lips wrapped tightly around your teeth, the wet heat of your mouth enveloping him in a way that makes him feel fucking insane.
he didn't know it would feel like this. his brain is gonna explode, scanners style.
your hand reaches blindly for his, guiding his fingers to slide into your hair, and his eyes fly open to meet yours, a pretty haze covering your orbs as you nod slightly to give him the go-ahead to curl his fingers.
"ha, you're gonna fucking kill me," eddie murmurs, but he's gently pulling ever so slightly from the root at the base of your skull, because he may be a virgin but he's not fucking clueless, right? he's read enough skin mags to know how to pull hair properly.
you whimper high pitched and your eyes finally flutter closed, letting eddie move you up and down with his firm hand as you alternate between sucking and drooling all over his length.
he's aware that he's looking at you like he's in love, okay? he can't help it. you're literally sucking the soul out of him, moaning around his girth and running your tongue over him like he's the best thing you've ever tasted. like he said before, he's weak.
"you- you're so good at this, oh my god," eddie's eyes roll back into his head when your free hand runs from where it's gripping the meat of his thigh to slide between his obscenely wide legs and cup his balls, rolling and squeezing them between your fingers.
the room is filled with the whining, high-pitched noises that eddie's really trying his best to hold in at risk of sounding like an absolutely pitiful virgin, and the wet noises of your mouth working over his cock, the slick slide of your fist jerking off what you can't quite reach.
eddie's stomach clenches, and holy fuck this is over too quick, but he can't find it in himself to be embarrassed because, because-
"i'm coming, you're making me come, holy fuck-" eddie's words die with a groan that sounds breathy and pathetic even in his own ears, his fingers burying so tight in your hair and pulling as he arches in on himself and jerks his hips in aborted little thrusts. he feels the plush of your lips brush against the wild, untamed curls at the base of his cock and he lets out a weak grunt, feels his length throb and spurt out another weak dribble of come at the sensation.
he's so delirious when he finally comes to that he's all but dragging you up from where your knees have to be aching on the floor, dragging you into his lap, and fuck sake his soft cock is still out and covered in spit and come and-
your mouth is on his in a hot press of lips and teeth and tongue, eddie's so out of his element here but the taste of his own spend on your tongue is as addictive as it is mildly disgusting.
"you got a mattress in the back of that van of yours?" you mumble between kisses, smiling into it.
"mhm, yup, a-ha," eddie nods wildly as he chases your mouth with his own, "i think i need some more stress relief. i hear burying your face between a pretty things legs helps."
eddie definitely does feel like he's dying when your thighs wrap around his ears and lock him in face-first.
18+ af, minors dni. Dub con elements, please ignore if it's not your thing. Back at it with a dark Bucky who has the biggest corruption kink and loves to manipulate the sweet doll across the hall who makes him have the most unholy thoughts. He can't help how badly he craves for her to take care of him, comfort him, all while he pretends he has no idea what's happening with his body after all the abuse from Hydra. His mind is too fried. He's just too innocent with so many big feelings. So many big, thick, achy, leaky feelings-
Oop-
It started off with small things. Patching him up after a rough mission. Making him dinner. Feeding him. Falling asleep in her lap. Seeking her out when he has bad dreams. Calling her mommy when he was especially needy and just wanted to be held. Feel extra close. Around her, he's just a clingy little baby Bucky who loves to nurse from his pretty mommy for comfort.
It's all perfectly innocent. Sometimes after a nightmare. Sometimes before bed. Her nipples are so warm against his tongue, his pink lips sealed around every bit of her peaked bud. Who was she to deny him with the way he cuddled his face into her chest with the quietest "Mommy, please?"
Of course she lets him take her top off, it's nothing sexual, purely to comfort him, his gentle gurgles quickly turning into soft snores within minutes.
She'd always take care of him.
Like now when you were watching tv, lounging in a loose tank top. He splays himself across your lap and you idly play with his hair while he gets comfy, only wearing his boxers. He’s so cute and precious, reaching up to latch onto your breasts, tugging at your top so you'd take it off. He nuzzles his face in, struggling to maintain his facade of just needing to be held, no longer able to ignore the way his cock needed attention too.
You're so used to letting him take what he needs, you don't notice his extra squirming, still focused on your show until he takes your hand to show you where he actually needs you.
"Mommy, it’s hard" he whines while your eyes grow wide. It's always fuckin' hard around you, pretty girl.
He’d never done that before, spreading his thighs further so you could see where he needed you most, blinking up at you innocently while his thick cock pressed against the fabric, rubbing your hand over his bulge.
"B-Baby?"
"Mommy, help" he continues to pout before going back to sucking while shoving your hand down his boxers to his achy erection. You feel your heart beat out of your chest with your hand now wrapped around his velvety shaft, absolutely torn over what to do. It wasn't his fault his body was reacting this way. He was asking the one person he felt safe around to take care of him. He obviously didn't know any better.
God, you felt awful over how frustrated he would have felt not knowing who else to turn to when he was in such a cloudy headspace. You stay frozen until he puts his hand over yours, showing you how to touch him, stroking up and down with just the right pressure.
"S-sometimes I do this by myself" He moans between tugging your nipples between his lips, lifting his hips up to take off his briefs. His balls are heavy between his thighs, full and aching after waiting months for this very moment. "It feels good, is it bad?"
"No sweet boy, it's normal" You coo, giving him exactly what he wants while his body runs hot, his hips rutting up to chase more of your soft hand, "I got you, don't worry, relax Jamie" You pet his hair while stroking his cock, his mouth working between your breasts, lost in his own world. Even now, he looked so innocent, a deep blush on his cheeks while you made him feel good, it was going to take years to help him remember-
"It feels good here mommy" He wraps your hand around his dripping, swollen head, his hips pushing up, eyes nearly rolling back at the way his cock feels in your hand. He knows he's gonna blow-
"R-right there, m'gonna-make a mess" He moans between a shy pout and of course you reassure him you'll clean him right up because he's doing nothing wrong and all of this was perfectly natural. His body was responding to touch exactly the way it had to, he was safe with you-
"MMPHHHH" He cries out as the first stream shoots out, load after load still pouring out of his stiff cock. You wipe him down and he spends the rest of the night cuddled up with soft blankets, hiding his smirk with his face tucked into your neck while you rub his back.
I could stop here but just imagine what happens when he decides to get more bold.
"Do you ever feel like this?" He asks innocently and you nearly squeak in surprise. He waits intently for an answer and you pause before answering, carefully considering your words.
"Um, sometimes baby"
Liar, he thinks. I hear you pretty girl, always playing with that pretty pussy thinking I can't hear you.
"Can I help you?" You swear his voice drops an octave and so does your stomach. It felt so fucking wrong, why were you responding to him like this, he wasn't thinking clearly and you were getting turned on-"Like how you helped me?"
"No! No Jamie, you-you don't have to"
Oh, but he wants to because you're so good to him and it's not fair he doesn't help you too. That's how he manages to get you naked and spread out on his bed, shoving his cock in your pussy.
"M'I doing it right?" He still looks at you with the sweetest lost expression but you can't help but notice there's something darker in his eyes. His whines melt into groans, his pace growing faster. "M'so hard mommy"
"J-Jamie, I-" You're so confused over what to do, moans escaping your lips, your pussy swallowing his cock back in each time he thrusts.
"Tell me to stop mommy" You swear you hear a smirk in his voice, his movements suddenly more calculated, his hips perfectly rolling to hit that spot your fingers can never reach, "Tell Jamie to stop"
"St-Jamie, oh God" You pant, your orgasm barreling towards you and you want to scream stop because something is off but his hands snake between your bodies and he finds your clit- "Please!"
"M'gonna think about this when I touch myself, mommy" He rubs you faster, needing you to cum instead of worrying your pretty head, "Can I? Can I think of you when I make a mess? M'gonna make one now, I-
He couldn't wait for you to tell him why your belly would be getting bigger and bigger over the next few months.
I'm here for some angst and fluff rn. Bucky being sad no one trusts him after his metal arm is taken off during a fight.
-
Bucky stared at the dark grey metal that fell to the floor with a clank, his vibranium arm no longer attached to his body with just a few pushes to his joint. The fight ended, leaving the soldier lost as he picked his arm off the floor, fingers trembling around the cold material. It felt dead in his hand, the emotional weight of it far heavier than anything else he'd ever carried.
"Did you know they could do that?" Sam asked, eyeing Bucky carefully while he locked his arm in place, readjusting it with a swing. The gold plates shifted to recalibrate, his fingers flexing while trying to silence his thoughts that begin to run a million miles a minute.
"No"
Bucky trudged down the hall, his heart sinking when he could hear the soft humming from inside his apartment, his sweet girl already waiting for him to come home. He usually felt the weight of the world life off his shoulders when you were around.
Not today.
Not when he knew what he really was.
What he had been all along.
He let out a strained breath before rummaging for his keys and opening the door, the smell of tea, sugar and vanilla wafting through the kitchen and living room. He thought about escaping as soon as he toed his boots off, locking himself in the shower and calling it an early night, of course you'd understand but his body won over what his mind was screaming.
Your face lit up as soon as you heard the door creak open, setting down the book you were reading, excited to see Bucky after he'd been gone for days for a mission. Your happiness was short lived as he padded into the living room, the strained smile on his face doing nothing to mask the pain he was feeling. You could see the turmoil in his eyes, waves of emotion crashing over him before he could surface.
"What's wrong, bub" You coo softly, opening your arms for him. Bucky kept his jacket on, avoiding melting into your hold even though he craved it more than ever.
"Do people still think I'm dangerous?" He asks quietly, shifting away from you when he feels you pressed against his arm. Something so soft and sweet as you definitely didn't have any business being near something so terrible, disgusting, murderous-
"What? No baby, why would you say that?" Your heart breaks at the tears that begin to well in his eyes, his nose and cheeks reddening as he suppresses all the emotions that desperately want to bubble over.
"I-I had no idea others would be able to remove it" He whispers, chewing his lip till he nearly draws blood, avoiding your gaze to stare at the floor instead. The fluffy rug turns blurry as tears begin to escape, his throat growing unbearably tight. "M'still a monster" His voice cracks before the first cry slips out.
Your pull him into your chest as sobs begin to wrack his body, letting him lay on you while you wrap him safely in your arms. The feeling of your affection is too much for Bucky, he doesn't deserve it but he needs it; he feels selfish as he allows you to hold him, hiding his face into the crook of your neck.
"What happened, sweet boy" You coo against his hair, running your fingers through his soft locks. He continued to sniffle between whimpers, trying to calm down, fresh waves of emotion holding him down, his metal arm gripping onto the sofa cushions.
His arm was dangerous.
He was dangerous.
"During a fight" Bucky let out a shuddered breath before continuing, shame seeping through his veins. What would you think of him if you knew the people who had healed him still didn't trust him, "We were trying to calm things down. I didn't mean to do anything-I didn't-I was holding back, we wanted to talk things over, she-"
He bit his lip again as it trembled, still feelings the spots that were pushed, sending his arm to the floor, "I didn't even know what was happening. She hit my shoulder in a few spots and my arm fell right off"
You stopped your ministrations, your heart breaking into two hearing the pain in his voice. Bucky sounded so small, like an admonished child scared to tell the truth. He curled himself up further, still flexing his fingers, almost fearful his arm would fall off again without warning. You moved your arms to hug him tighter, wishing you could take away at least half the pain his was feeling.
"I didn't know they could do that" He said with defeat, still softly sniffling while you kissed the top of his head.
"You're not a monster baby" You knew how much work Bucky had put in, how much he struggled to get a hold of his mind again, how long it took for him to learn to trust others, to trust himself.
"Then why" You knew he was desperate hearing the plead in his voice. Why. Why did others still have control over his own body. Why were others still able to do things to him without his knowledge.
Why?
"I wish they'd told you why, baby boy" You brought your hand to gently tip his chin up, making him look at you, "Perhaps they have their reasons. Regardless, your heart is pure, Bucky" Your hands moved under his jacket and tshirt, stroking his bare skin, the feel of your pure hands already soothing his aching heart.
"They don't trust me" He sighed, sitting up again as his mind swirled. You didn't let him spiral for long, straddling his lap while his arms moved on their own to wrap around your waist.
"They do, bub" you shook your head, cupping his cheeks so he'd look at you. "They took you in and healed you because you were worth healing. You deserved it. I need you to remember my sweet Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes is a good man. The opposite of dangerous, a soft, sweet boy"
"Do-do you trust me" His voice was small again, looking at you through his lashes, nervously fidgeting with the hem of the Henley you'd stolen.
"I trust you with my life, Bucky" You took his metal hand, brushing your lips against the gold ridges before kissing each of his cool finger tips. "Every single part of you. Your mind. Your body. All of it"
The mental exhaustion of the day began to take it's toll as his eyes grew heavy, cuddling into you while you rocked him in a comfortable silence. You smiled at the soft snores you heard moments later as Bucky fell asleep in your arms.
"Let's get you to bed, baby" you whispered, gently waking him and taking a quick warm shower before jumping into bed. He was right back in your arms as soon as you pulled the sheets back, the grating voices not so loud any more.
Regardless of what the world though, had you.
A pure sweet angel.
She trusted him.
That had to mean something.
It would be a long road of healing but at least his had his angel to guide him.
decidedly unfriendly reminder that fanfiction is written by real people with real feelings for free in their free time. it's a labour of love and something to cherish. if you come across a fic that you don't enjoy, that's totally fine, but it is your due diligence as a fellow fan and decent human being to click away. leaving mean comments, absurd rating systems or harassing writers in their inbox while hiding behind an anonymous icon is not an acceptable manner to behave in any fandom and online space ever. it's disgustingly entitled, wildly disrespectful and only serves to discourage people from sharing their writing in a community that is meant to be fun and supportive. the next time you read something you don't enjoy, stop reading it and move on with your day. read something you like and leave kudos and a nice comment there instead. have some common sense and don't be a fucking asshole. it's not that fucking difficult.
I need a feral and unhinged, touch starved Bucky to ruin me.
He’s selfish in giving and taking.
He's gone years without touching his cock, no orgasm, no relief, nothing. Any experience he has had has been long forgotten. The man loves getting his cock sucked. There’s something so filthy about the way he goes feral for it, torn between throwing his head back in pleasure and watching his cock disappear into your mouth.
He used to be such a gentleman but he can’t anymore.
He's a fucking menace because he loves how dirty it is, having his dick in your mouth of all places, letting you slobber and drool all over his length, getting his balls wet in the process.
He doesn't give a fuck who hears either, letting anyone and everyone know his cock is in your mouth, that he's getting the best head of his life.
"Fuck, suck me princess, just-yeah just like that, sucking my cock so good babydoll, makin' me so hard"
You let out a muffled whine in response, still on your knees, tears streaking down your face while he holds your face, his thumbs swiping your wet cheeks. He bites his lip while thrusting his hips forward, pushing his length down your throat. You claw at his thighs, gagging and he lets out a delicious moan seeing your arousal starting to drip with how turned on you are.
"You're makin' me feel so good sugar, you know that? Y'have any idea how good my dick feels right now, how much cum there is in my balls?" He takes a a hand off his thigh and makes you cup his heavy sack, guiding you to squeeze him while you suck, the combined feeling making his eyes roll back.
"C'mon princess, suck my balls next, never had them sucked before-oh fuck-yeah-just like that baby shit-oh fuck feels so good-" His abs tense as he moans loudly again, jerking himself while you move to lap and suck at his sack, precum dribbling down, making a mess everywhere.
He might as well be addicted to the feeling. On more than one occasion, he's missed morning training because you decided to wake him up with head and he loses himself to you, not giving a shit who is waiting for him at the door.
He hears the knocks, hears them calling for him and he'll let them know what's keeping him so busy.
"Buck, you coming-?"
"Oh Fuck yes! Suck my cock, yes, yes, yes, gonna cum, drink it up baby, c'mon, swallow, fuck yes, m'gonna cum again-don't stop princess"
"Well...technically he's coming" Sam snorted, hearing every filthy word the super soldier spewed out while Steve bit back a smirk, "I think your best friend is busy"
Steve couldn't help the proud smile that made it's way onto his face, shaking his head, quickly walking away before round two started.
Tony occasionally goes as far as cheering outside of Bucky's bedroom, especially when the steady thump of the headboard banging against the wall can be heard from downstairs.
No point hiding anything from Tony, especially when he's the one who had to install the xl mirror in the bedroom Bucky requested and god knows he didn't ask for it because he's into fashion.
He's gonna put you in positions that are unholy as it gets. He wants to watch every detail. He's gonna throw your legs all the way back till your knees hit the bed. He wants to watch his cock stretch you open. He's gonna experimentally flick that little button between your legs, using it as his own personal play toy, rubbing and pinching it to his delight just to hear you squeal.
“That’s-that’s your spot, huh princess-take my fat cock baby, doin' so good, moaning for me" He growls, watching he way you take his cock. His favorite thing to do is lock eyes with you in the mirror while your on your hands and knees watching you watch him while he fucks your brains out. Your breasts bounce with each thrust and he doesn't know what he loves to watch more. God forbid your eyes roll back, he spanks you till you focus again.
"Look at me when you take my cock baby, look at how pretty you are when you're all stretched open"
"Sargent-I-fuck-can't-
"Yeah, can't even speak huh, that how good your pussy feels baby? You wanna cum? Want me to make you cum?"
"Please!" You wail and he grabs your hair and pulls you till your back is flush against his chest. He forces your thighs apart as wide as they'll go before grabbing his phone and positioning it under, getting a perfect video of his cock pumping you full of cum while his fingers reach around to rub your swollen button.
"Go on and cum baby, cum with me, together, make your Sargent proud princess, make me dick feel good, fuck, gonna fill you till it spills out, mother fucker-FUCKK" He moans loudly with you, letting your convulsing pussy milk him dry, his veins throbbing as he shoots ropes of cum into you. The end of the video is blurry after all his cum drips onto the screen but it makes it so much filthier.
He's going to record all of this along with taking pictures, always getting you to spread your legs for him, laying on his bed after he's poured load after load into you. I want him to be the dirtiest fuck, looking at all the pictures and videos he's taken, jerking himself off afterwards when you're away for a mission. He can't have you but he's gonna take what he can get. He loves how you moan and scream, how cock drunk you get. A part of him almost feels like a pervert, tugging at his dick like a horny teenager but he can't keep his hands off when he thinks of you.
He's fucking feral even when he jerks off. Legs spread wide apart, no clothes on, back arched off the bed, fucking his hips up into his fist. He doesn't care if you walk in anymore. He was shy at first but now he just smirks while continuing to lazily touch himself, using his own spend to palm himself, the other arm propped behind his head. He knows you love the sight, planting his feet onto the bed to give you a better view while you take your clothes off-
Anyway, my bad, this was sitting in the drafts for long enough, you can go about your day now.
It marked him as many things: bastard, unworthy. Strong.
As a child, that word—bastard—was shrugged off. By his mother, his father. His grandfather, the king, had been blind to it, despite the murmurings of King’s Landing—despite those of his second lady-wife and their children.
They only grew worse as he aged. As the short crop of messy dark hair slowly began to curl.
“Strong looking lad, wouldn’t ya say?”
“Good looks don’t make up for the lack of white hair.”
As a teen, he kept it cropped short. Short enough that the stubborn curl would stay flat against his head. Luke, despite claiming otherwise, wasn’t worried about it.
“It’s just hair, Jace.”
“It’s not.”
Joffrey was afflicted with the same crutch as his elder brothers, though Jace didn’t come down quite as hard on him as he did Luke. Maybe it was his age, or the fact that was growing up without either of his fathers, Velaryon or Strong.
Daemon counted for something, he supposed. But the difference between the three of them and the rest of their fair-haired family was stark. As fearsome as Daemon was, he couldn’t quell rumours that festered outside the keep. He’d never thought of the prince as his father. Perhaps because of his age. But that day in the throne room with his great-uncle Vaemond, when Daemon had cleaved through the man’s skull as if pushing a knife through butter, he’d felt it. The kill was mostly for his mother, but it mattered not.
As his half-siblings grew, and their hair became lighter and lighter, he felt that sense of dread. He couldn’t pinpoint it exactly. A sense of unworthiness. Rightfully, his youngest brothers might have more of a claim to the Iron Throne than he. They were of pure Targaryen blood. He was a half-breed. A Targaryen, yes, but did his mother’s pedigree make up for his biological father’s lack of one? Did his adoptive father’s Velaryon name make it all right? Did his step-father’s Targaryen one secure it, or hinder further?
As the years passed, as his mother took her rightful place upon the throne with he at the foot of it, he began to realise that it mattered less and less.
As he said his vows to his betrothed, and their children slowly arrived, he began to understand his mother’s words all those years ago.
“You are my son.”
Because as he stared out at the field in front of him, Baela nestled beneath his arm, and watched his children flying high overhead on their dragons, he finally realised that it mattered not.
His children.
Targaryen by blood, and Velaryon by name. White-haired and brunette alike, they were all his.
And sometimes, as the dragons dropped so low their claws scraped the ground and a dark-haired child screamed past, he caught sight of Luke.
Now a scene (or two) is coming to mind with my OG work between my fmc and the mmc on her teaching him her ways of study, and him teaching her ways of... another kind 🥴
Just imagine dry humping with subby chubby beefy Bucky. Using him for your pleasure, moaning and whining while you hump and grind yourself all over him. He’s a shy baby who can’t believe someone who looks like you would be so into someone like him. No amount of convincing works, which is how you both ended up on the couch with you straddled on his lap, rubbing yourself on his achingly hard length.
You worship him, whispering the sweetest words while taking your clothes off one by one, leaving you in just the tiniest pair of lace panties, rubbing your clit right where the tip of his cock rests in his pants.
“You’re so pretty like this, big boy” Your hands grip onto his thick shoulders, your fingers toying with the hair at the nap of his neck, tugging it every so slightly. His face is flushed, pink lips parted, gasping every time you move just right, his balls heavy, “My pretty baby boy”
“Oh God” He whimpers, feeling spurts of precum drip from the tip, his entire body throbbing from how good it feels. At some point you lean back, grasping onto his thighs, putting your body in display for him while you continue to swivel your hips on his erection and he swears he’s died and gone to heaven.
This NPR interview with with Angela Saini about how race science never really left the global scientific consciousness is super interesting! I’m gonna read her book!
For anyone here still, I have been in a bit of a writing slump, and to help combat it, I have gone back to one of my favourite crafts - cross stitching.
In that time, I have gone a bit further into said craft, and now have an online shop where I have designs available for sale.
All designs are in PDF format, it is not for the final design/s. Most of the designs are simple, easy to follow and a few have as little as three colours (for definition)
If you are into cross stitch, or embroidery at all, please go and check out my etsy store. Link is below.
