Please note this is Kilyra's side blog
: This page is fully dedicated to regblogging all the amazing content I come across! There's lots of Marvel and DC love here along with TWD, SoA and anything else that catches my eye. Lots of gif and fan fic to be found!
Pairing: Thunderbolts!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Summary: Bucky looks good in a suit, and it isn't fair how easily he turns you on.
Word Count: Over 2k
Warnings: Unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), referenced oral sex (f. receiving), feels, sweet and spicy fic, established relationship, vulnerability, being in love, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).
A/N: More Tower Shenanigans based on an anon ask. ❤️ Thank you to the lovely @buckybarnesfic, @soelstress, @mrsbuckybarnes1917 for looking it over and assuring me it wasn't garbage. Written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!
Bucky was still getting ready for the day while you made him breakfast. It was the most important meal of the day, and neither of you would let the other skip it. Thankfully the rest of the team had already eaten and were elsewhere, otherwise everyone would try to steal something; except for Bob because he wouldn't take food without asking. Not to mention the last time John tried to steal one of Yelena’s meals he almost lost a finger.
The scent of freshly brewed coffee cut through the last traces of sleep, warming you up as you loaded the plates with various foods and set them on the island. You rinsed the dishes and cleaned the counters while you waited for Bucky, doing a silly little dance in-between tasks. It wasn't your day to tidy up the kitchen, but you weren't going to be a jerk and leave it a mess.
“Someone’s happy this morning,” Ava said from behind you, and you somehow didn't jump at the sound. You were all getting used to her phasing in and out of the rooms. “Let me guess. Morning sex?”
Was it obvious since you were only in your robe and underwear? “Maybe,” you teased.
The wonderful ache between your legs was a nice reminder of how Bucky woke you earlier, making you shiver. You felt his fingers and tongue working you over before you opened your eyes, and you barely recovered from your first orgasm before he had his cock in you. It wasn't rushed either. He took his time, making you feel every delicious inch as he thrust slow and deep. Even when you came again he didn't stop.
“‘Attagirl,” he smiled against your lips while you trembled beneath him, his body effectively caging you in. “But you can give me one more. I know you can.”
“Bucky,” you whined, wanting nothing more than for him to fill you to the brim.
“Just one more, sweetheart.” A hand moved between your bodies so he could play you like a well tuned instrument. “One more and I’ll give it to you.”
You did, and so did he, your name tumbling from his lips as he spilled into you. Who wouldn't give Bucky another orgasm if he gently demanded it? Three orgasms wasn't a bad way to start the day. A girl could do much worse.
“Lucky,” she smirked, snapping you out of your thoughts when she snatched a bite of food from Bucky’s plate. “Mmm. Remind me to have you make me breakfast the next time you have morning sex.”
“Hey!” you yelled, but there was laughter in your eyes when she took another bite and phased away. “You’ll pay for that!”
“Who will pay for what?” Bucky asked when he walked into the room, making your breath catch in your throat.
Bucky's hair was tucked behind his ears today, bringing your attention to his steel eyes before you took in the rest of him. His suit was tailored impeccably to his large frame, and he wore it well. He carried himself with composed ease, his steps deliberate and head held high. His presence demanded attention without appearing arrogant, which was tough to balance. He was all man.
He was your man.
“Fuck me,” you breathed.
Bucky may not be a Congressman anymore, but he would have had your vote for anything and everything he ever wanted.
His eyes flashed with unmistakable lust and pride as he walked toward you, making your stomach flip. “Already did.”
“You did, and you can do that again later,” you said, reaching up to trace his mouth.
You smiled when he kissed your fingers. It was an honor to touch him and that wasn't at all an exaggeration. You noticed how tense he got when some got too close to him, but not you. Never you.
“So, I look handsome?” he asked casually, adjusting his tie. “Not that I’m trying to look handsome. I’m only wearing this since I have a meeting, and I might get a few dirty looks if I show up in tactical gear.”
You almost teased that he was fishing for a compliment, but you saw just a flicker of his confidence waver as he waited for your answer. “Suit or tactical gear, you’re the most handsome man I've ever seen.”
He breathed out, his confidence back in full force. “I’m glad to hear that.” Sliding a hand over the curve of your hip, his fingers dug in, a protective and possessive touch, when he brought his mouth to your ear. “And I may have to wear suits around you more often since it turns you on so much.”
You tried to play coy, as if your nipples hadn’t peaked and your clit didn't throb. “Who said I'm turned on?”
Bucky chuckled and lowered his head, his teeth nipping your neck and drawing a whimper from you. His lips moved up to find your ear again while you tried to keep your breathing steady. “Don't have to say it, sweetheart. I can smell you,” he whispered. You couldn't hide anything with those heightened senses of his, a blessing or a curse depending on how you looked at it. “Ruined your panties the second I walked in here.”
Your eyes closed. He was right, the smug bastard. Damn him. Damn him to Hell. No, not there. That was too cruel. Your bed would do nicely.
It was insane the more you thought about it. The man could breathe and it would send your libido into overdrive. Feminism? Where did it go? One murder strut or grumpy stare and it went out the window along with your panties. One smile and it melted your insides.
What had he done to you?
“You're unbelievable,” you sighed.
He pulled back, searching your face. “What do you mean?”
“I was a strong and capable woman before I came here,” you said, the words sounding ridiculous as soon as they left your mouth.
“And you still are,” he assured you. Bucky was one of your biggest supporters, always.
“It’s just… Do you have any idea what that’s like? To just look at someone and get turned on?” You stepped out of reach and gestured to him. You asked yourself some days how Bucky Barnes could possibly be real. How did someone like him exist? “You breathe and I get aroused. That isn't normal.”
No other man had that kind of power over you, body or heart, until him.
The warm chuckle from your boyfriend had you fighting not to smile. “One, we’re not normal. Two, your breathing turns me on, too. And three, I do know it’s like to just look at someone and get aroused because that happens when I look at you,” he said, taking your hand to bring you back to him. He placed it against his crotch and grew harder under your touch. “We’re a match made in heaven, Hell, whatever you want to call it.”
Blood rushed to your cheeks. You two were a good match. “It isn't just arousal when I look at you. It’s…” You took a breath and gripped his jacket with your other hand, trying to be careful not to wrinkle it. “You smile at me and…”
“And what?” he asked, catching your eye and softly smiling.
You swallowed, your eyes suddenly misting over before you dropped your hands. It was alarming how quickly your emotions took over in regard to Bucky. “I see a future with you there.”
Bucky cupped your cheeks when you tried to duck your head. He had stripped you bare more than once, but saying something like that made you feel more vulnerable than when you were naked. “Oh, sweetheart.”
“You have the power to break me,” you whispered, your eyes shutting. Not to hide, but to keep the tears at bay. “Which should be terrifying, but it’s very exhilarating.”
To give that much of yourself to another, to trust them to that extent, wasn't easy. But if life taught you anything, it was that it was too short and you had to seize every opportunity to live it to the fullest. Who better to do that with than Bucky Barnes?
You cleared your throat when he didn't say anything, his eyes a storm of emotions when you opened yours. “Your breakfast is getting cold. You should-”
He surged forward, his lips covering yours. The pad of his thumbs brushed your cheeks when he deepened the kiss, coaxing you to open your mouth to his. Emotions surged through you, your heart nearly overflowing as you held onto each other. You felt everything all at once and let yourself be swept away.
He slowly broke the kiss allowing you both to savor the lingering touch of each other's lips and take a much needed breath. “You could break me, too, but you won't,” he said, his forehead resting against yours as you attempted to calm your racing heart. “Just like I'd never break you.”
It was a vow that resonated in your core, a declaration of love, one that had you kissing him again and silently promising the same. “Match made in heaven or Hell, huh?”
“And where you go, I’ll follow,” he smiled.
You'd follow him, too. “Well, right now you need to eat breakfast and head out so you aren't late for your meeting.”
He groaned and refrained from rolling his eyes. “This suit is coming off as soon as I get back,” he said, much to your disappointment. Or maybe your delight.
“Right when you get back?” You bit your lip. “Will you use the tie on me?”
“I can,” he smirked, making your body heat up all over again. “Can have a little fun in the office, too. Pretend I’m your boss and-”
“Or I could be your boss since I'm strong and capable,” you teased.
He moaned, seemingly into that idea as he backed you against the island. “Boss or not, I’ll still bend you over the desk or have you sit on it while I eat your pretty pussy.”
You whined. There was no stopping Bucky when he was hungry. He’d spread your legs and stay between them until you cried, lap up every drop and still want more.
His hands roamed your body, forgetting all about breakfast. “Fuck you raw and fill you up just the way you-”
Bob cleared his throat, both of you turning toward the sound. How long had the poor guy been standing there? “Just getting a drink,” he said, quickly going to the fridge and avoiding looking at you. “I’m not even here.”
“Sorry, Bob,” you smiled sheepishly when he grabbed his drink and bolted. “We should probably rent a hotel room or something soon and give the team a break.”
You and Bucky could be extremely private some days and others there was no stopping you. How the team put up with it you had no idea. Maybe because you made each other happy. It still had to be slightly obnoxious for them.
Bucky scratched the back of his neck, a sheepish smile on his handsome face, too. “Or we could always do a campout on the roof so we aren't too far away,” he suggested.
You smiled as you imagined it. Looking out over the city and watching the stars before cuddling up in a tent. A cabin getaway was also something to keep in mind for the future when you two could take a break together. Peaceful, quiet. Something just for the two of you.
“A roof campout sounds nice,” you said.
“Good,” Bucky smirked before he picked you up and set you on the island. “Campout later. Right now I want breakfast.”
“Bucky, your meeting.”
“I won't be late.”
You didn't resist when he opened your legs. “Ava said no more fooling around in the kitchen since we eat here,” you reminded him. Alexei would probably encourage it. “And I just cleaned up, and you haven't eaten the food I made.”
“I’ll clean up the mess,” he winked as he crouched down. “And I’ll eat after I eat.”
And he did.
We deserve this. Bucky deserves this. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️
Summary: Joel gives you a little somethin' before you go out.
Author's Note: I have no idea what timeline this would be set in- but who really cares- because there isn't much plot. It's all about sitting in this man's lap and riding that deliciousness that's always popping out between his legs. My sweet friend @weekendgothgirl sparked this inspo with a little post she sent my way and I needed to write this because I can't stop thinking about it. Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️ Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰
Warnings: sexy and sweet, dry humping, a curse or two, Joel knows exactly what he's up to...
Pedro Pascal Character Masterlist
“Leavin’ already?” Joel asks quietly when he hears your shoes click along the floor.
“I have a few minutes,” you answer as you place your phone in your bag and set it by the door.
“Good,” he hums and calls you over with a pat to his thigh.
You sashay around the couch and stop in between his spread legs. His causal position on the couch doesn’t change, one arm draped over the back and the other resting along his leg, but his eyes instantly blaze with heat as they sweep over you from head to toe.
“You look incredible,” he murmurs. “I shouldn’t let you leave the house.”
“As if you could stop me,” you shoot back, lip caught between your teeth.
The corner of his mouth twitches with a smirk and he slowly sits forward to curl his hands into the skin just below the hem of your dress. His thumbs draw lazily circles on your inner thighs as his fingers move higher in a teasing manner. When he has your ass in his hands he drags you closer and pulls you down onto his lap.
His eyes are bright with challenge as his grip tightens.
“Is this your attempt to keep me home?”
Your question is whispered against his lips and when one large hand glides higher, splayed fingers tracing the curve of your spine, your body melts along with your reserved efforts.
His mouth covers yours, his tongue skating across your lips, parting them, and pulling a soft whimper from the back of your throat.
The kiss is claiming, leaving no room for protest. Then, he brings you down to meet the bulge between his legs, his hips working in a steady rhythm to grind against your panties.
You place both hands on his broad shoulders and rock yourself over him again. He bites his bottom lip and closes his eyes with a pained expression.
“Fuckin’ hell sweetheart,” he grates along your lips, his breathing heavy.
Your mouth brushes his with a whispered plea and you relish the feel of his beard scratching along your delicate softness.
“Joel,” you whine.
You lift your hands and dig them into his thick, tousled mane of brown curls. His hands slide down the curve of your body to your thighs, rough calloused fingers stroking your soft skin as he rolls his hips with a choked curse.
The rigid fly of his jeans drags along the center of your dampening panties and he buries his face in your neck, dragging his teeth along your throat until he finds your bottom lip and bites down.
Your gasp of pleasure is swallowed by his mouth but you continue to squirm in his lap, searching for the friction you need.
“Do it again Joel.”
Jaw tight, he holds you down and rocks his hips repeatedly until your panties are clinging to damp flesh and you’re chanting his name through parted lips.
The rush starts and you can feel your stomach tighten. He works you harder, his eyes locked on your face.
“Oh my god, Joel. Don’t stop. Please.”
Your body trembles with your release and he continues moving his hips, dragging out the pleasure until you’re wrapped around him, holding tightly to his neck as you catch your breath.
“Joel,” you pant before laying your head to his shoulder.
“Such a good girl for me,” he whispers against the shell of your ear.
He cradles you against his chest until your breathing evens out.
Your hand slides through the open buttons of his shirt and down to his belt buckle but he grabs your wrist before you can get it open.
You sit back with a pout.
“You’re goin’ to be late angel.”
“But…” you whine and wiggle in his hold.
When the strap of your dress falls loosely from your shoulder he glides his fingers up your arm, slow and delicate, to grab the thin fabric and slide it back up. Goosebumps erupt along your skin and you shiver in his arms.
“Tonight,” he murmurs before pressing a soft kiss to your collarbone, then your neck.
He helps you stand from his lap, your dress still hiked up over your hips, and leans closer to wedge his hand between your thighs and push them open. The wetness on your panties is clearly visible and he licks his lips.
“I’m goin’ to be thinkin’ about this until you get back home to me angel. Then I’m going to have you every way I want you.”
Summary: You and Joel are attending the monthly 'town meeting' that Tommy runs and as hard as you try you can't help your boredom but mostly you can't help how badly you want Joel.
Author's Note: Well, this is nothing but my horniness over this man. I can't help it. Also my lovely friend @lizette50 shared the picture below with me and I nearly died. Anyway, thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the sweet @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰
Warnings: it's fun and flirty and tense, ora-l (m rec), a curse or two, and always some softness bc it's me
Pedro Pascal Masterlist
You can see this meeting is boring Joel and even though it seems like Tommy might be finishing up you can’t resist lifting your arms above your head with a stretch.
Joel’s eyes immediately shift to you, sweeping along the exposed skin of your stomach as your shirt rides up.
“Think it’s almost over?” you ask in a whisper.
He only grunts in response but keeps his eyes fixed on you.
“You look bored,” you muse as you slide your hand into his.
His fingers close around yours and he rubs his thumb across your knuckles.
“I’m tryin’ to listen,” he says quietly and you see the corner of his lips twitch with a smirk.
You turn your body into his, pressing against his side and softly kissing his neck.
“What are you doin’ darlin’?”
“Just saying hi.”
You press another kiss to his skin with a deep inhale.
He grinds his jaw and leans in close to your ear, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper.
“Not a smart move sweetheart. I’m always cravin’ a taste of you. Don’t make me haul you out of here over my shoulder.”
Your breath hitches and warmth slides over your skin. Tommy’s voice startles you and you fall back onto your toes with a frustrated huff.
Joel’s fingers, still holding yours, continue to lightly caress your skin and your senses build to an overwhelming state. His callouses scrap against your softness and his warmth permeates your skin. You can’t hold back the low moan that slips past your lips at the anticipation he creates.
His jaw ticks and you know he heard you. Turning, you see that his eyes have narrowed on your face as if sensing your thoughts, before dropping to your lips.
“Say the words, angel.”
“I’m ready to leave.”
His fingers tighten around your hand and he pulls you away from the wall, walking out the double doors with a brisk stride that leaves you practically jogging behind him.
Nothing registers as you pass by the other town members seated around the hall, their faces of surprise blurring together as you keep your sole focus on Joel.
You can see his shoulders tight with tension, his muscular back shifting underneath his button-down shirt with every movement, and you imagine raking your nails over all that strength.
You squeeze his hand tighter and he picks up the pace even more.
Once you reach the small house you share on the edge of the town he hauls you inside the door and slams it shut, pressing you against it and bracing his hands on either side of your head.
“They’re all going to know why we left,” he grits out.
“Like I care. And I know you don’t…maybe they’ll think it’s just because you’re so grumpy.”
He smirks and his eyes light up.
You press yourself flush against him, kissing along his jaw as your fingers slide down his chest and dance over the bulge in his jeans.
He groans and digs his fingers into the door, clearly trying to let you keep control of the situation.
After undoing his belt and working on the button of his jeans, you slowly start to unzip them but stop when his eyes snap to yours and he growls, “you’re testing my patience here, angel.”
His hips press into your palm and you can feel his thick arousal.
Your hand leaves his pants and you smooth your fingers along his chest then around his neck before weaving them through his hair and tugging hard to bring his lips to yours.
He rubs against your belly and you both break away on a groan.
“I know you need it right now, angel. You’re just dying for me to fuck you.”
Before you can respond he claims your mouth again, his arms falling from the door and circling around your waist to bring you closer. His lips move over yours, rough and demanding, the scrape of his beard leaving a lingering reminder with every pass.
You make a sound of protest against his mouth when you can’t get his lower body close enough, the ache building to the point of desperation.
With a moan you break the kiss, letting the corners of your lips edge into a sensual smile.
You drop to your knees and let your hands wander up his muscular thighs.
Above you, his breathing deepens, kicking up to a faster pace.
When you free him from his jeans he tilts his hips toward your mouth and pushes the head of his cock against your lips.
You hover just above the tip before dipping your head slowly and savoring every hard inch of him. Your eyes close in enjoyment and when your mouth wraps tightly around him a growl erupts from his throat and his brow starts to glisten with sweat.
He wants to stay still and take whatever you’ll give him, but he can’t stop his hips from undulating every so slightly toward the suction of your mouth.
“Fuck darlin’ you look so beautiful on your knees for me.”
In response to his words, you hum in the back of your throat, sending vibrations over his hard flesh. He grits his teeth at the sensation and hisses out your name, watching as you squeeze your thighs together from your position at his feet.
He feels the familiar tightening of his stomach, the muscles clenching and his breathing becoming harsher and slips from your mouth.
“I wasn’t done,” you whine as he lifts you.
You bury your face in his neck and kiss and nip along his skin. His long, thick fingers trail down the curve of your waist and tease the waistband of your pants. “I need to be inside you,” he murmurs. “I want to feel how wet you are for me angel.”
Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader (No!Outbreak)
Word Count: 893
Summary: You and Joel have to attend an event (any event you want) and you're both dressed up which makes it extra hard to get out of the house...
Author's Note: Listen, after the SAG awards look the other night I have still NOT recovered so this is my little way of channeling some of that because wow. How dare he? And thank goodness because oof. You can have Joel taking reader to any kind of event you want- I figured that really didn't matter here because it's more about how delicious he is. Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Thank you Daisy @firefly-graphics for the lovely divider🥰
Warnings: sexy teasing and tension, softness and flirting, Joel is pretty dom here but he's all about her
Pedro Pascal Masterlist
After letting out one final, soothing exhale, you step into your shoes, pick up your clutch and leave the bedroom.
Joel stands at the counter finishing off a glass of water, his white dress shirt stretched across his broad shoulders and the top few buttons undone to reveal the strong lines of his neck as he drinks.
At the sound of your steps he turns to look at you.
And stops cold.
When he doesn’t say anything and just stares you start to panic, wondering if you’d made the wrong choice of dress. He looks utterly perfect with his tanned skin against the stark white fabric, his black pants fitted to every thick muscle and his magnificent curls framing his face.
You can’t help your shiver of anticipation and goosebumps break out over your skin.
When you meet his eyes you watch them sweep along every inch of your body before he crooks a finger at you.
“Come here.”
His voice is raw and uneven and you slowly close the distance, watching his jaw tighten as you get closer.
“You’re going to make us late Joel.”
“And you’re fuckin’ gorgeous darlin’.”
Your breath catches in your throat and you set your things down on the counter. “Thank you.”
He finishes off his water and discards the glass in the sink then takes your hand in his and lifts your knuckles to his lips, lightly brushing across them with soft kisses.
With deliberate intention he circles you, taking in his fill and getting a complete view of you in your dress.
“What color are you panties?”
“Excuse me?” you ask.
“You heard me darlin’.”
“Why?” you counter, already loving the game he’s playing.
“If I have to take you to this event, to a room full of other men who are going to see you lookin’ like you do in that dress, you bet I’m gonna be the only one who knows the color of your panties.”
He moves until he’s so close you can feel the heat from his body but he’s still not touching you. Even so, it feels like his hands are everywhere and your skin tingles all over.
“Where’s my answer?”
You remain silent, your lips turning up in a smirk when you feel his breath warm the nape of your neck. He presses his chest flush to your back and whispers along the shell of your ear, “mm alright then gorgeous.”
He pushes you forward so you have to brace your palms flat on the counter.
“Spread your legs.”
Your breathing intensifies and you dig your teeth into your bottom lip, using all your willpower to remain defiant.
“Do as you’re told.”
His words are a growl of warning and your arousal outweighs your flicker of annoyance so you slowly spread your legs.
His fingers press into your calf and he hooks one under the silky fabric of your dress to drag it up with restrained delicacy. Once he reaches your thighs he shoves his knee between your legs and spreads them wider.
A strangled groan leaves his throat before a long stretch of silence passes with the weight of his gaze on your bare skin.
“No panties, darlin’?”
“Not with this dress,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady.
“Hm,” he muses.
His large hand comes down hard on your exposed ass, jarring you against the cold countertop.
You hiss out a curse of pleasure but before you can respond with more he does it again. And again.
He then soothes the stinging spot with his palm and you try to straighten but he places a firm hand on your lower back, keeping you bent over the counter.
“You like that darlin’?” he asks.
“You know I do.”
Your breathy affirmation has him leaning over you, caging you in, his lips brushing the shell of your when he murmurs, “good. That’s for the hard on I’ll be walking around with tonight.”
When you try to straighten again he holds you down still, first fixing your dress with a gentle touch that offsets his actions from just a moment ago. His hand smooths along the curve of your hip and he lifts you up, turning you in his arms and cradling you against his chest.
His scent teases you, warm and earthy, and you dip your head to brush your lips along his.
“We best get goin’ darlin’…”
You nod, closing your eyes when his palm flattens on your back and his hand slides up to your neck, grabbing hold and dragging you closer. It’s too easy to give in. Too easy to be consumed by everything that’s him.
Your fingers tease the curls at the back of his neck, sliding through the silky strands as you sigh his name.
“Ok.”
It’s more of a whine and his eyes narrow dangerously.
“I’m trying really hard here,” he says roughly. “I won’t be able to stop if we keep this up.”
“I don’t want you to stop.”
You tilt your head and your lips find his throat, placing soft open-mouthed kisses along his skin then you look at him through your lashes, daring him to tell you to stop.
His breath accelerates, filling the quiet space and heightening every sensation.
“Sweet fuckin’ hell darlin.’ I have no self-control when it comes to you. You’ve ruined me. I’m completely ruined.”
Why did you give the last of your food to that poorly disguised mimic? You were finally at peace with letting go, but now this odd thing won’t leave you alone and is even turning itself into various items in an attempt to aid you.
The mimic is a young one, and you knew that from the moment you laid eyes on it. It was disguised as a crate, but the angles weren’t quite right. The corners were a little lopsided, and if you looked hard enough you could make out the creature’s mouth.
A sigh escapes you as you toss over the last of your rations, not even bothering to stand up as you do so. What’s the point? You think. I’ve been trapped in this cave for days, nobody is looking for me, and the monsters are closing in. Why should I bother even trying? I could just fall asleep now, and let this little mimic eat me too.
The thing is… it doesn’t. It eats your rations, but when you lay down and try to sleep, it doesn’t attack. You do hear it move closer, but you don’t open your eyes until you feel something nudge your hand. As you barely open your eyes, you can see that the mimic has morphed itself into a crude sword. You can’t help but chuckle.
“You’re cute, but I don’t have anything left to give you.” You don’t have anything left to give for yourself either, but you don’t say so.
The mimic doesn’t seem to take no for an answer. It becomes a dagger, then an axe, then a staff, as though it’s trying to determine what your preffered weapon is.
“Listen, I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but it’s not working. I’m not going to pick you up and take you into some other part of this stupid cave system. Nice try, though.”
You turn away from it and attempt to sleep again. As you do so, you find yourself shivering. You really wish, as you doze off, that you had a blanket.
When you wake, much later, you’re surprised to find yourself covered with the warmest blanket you’ve ever had. You quickly sit up, eagerly hoping that someone had cone for you, but the cave is empty. When you look at the blanket, you notice the imperfect edges and the janky seam across the middle.
“…why haven’t you eaten me yet?” You ask the little mimic that’s now laying on top of you. “What’s wrong with you?”
The mimic, still in the form of the blanket, slithers off of you, but it does not respond. Instead, it begins taking the form of weapons again. When it turns into a crooked staff, you reach out, despite yourself. Your fingers wrap around it and you use it to haul your aching, injured body to your feet. “I guess there are probably nicer places to die.”
You know you won’t get far. And you don’t. Especially not without light. The mimic doesn’t seem too bothered, though. When you collapse again, it scuttles off. Perhaps this was simply where it wanted you to take it. Perhaps now you can finally succumb to your exhaustion.
Then, a few minutes later, a misshapen clay cup bumps against your hand. It’s full of water, and there’s a crack in the middle like a jagged mouth. You pick up the cup and you drink, telling yourself it’s only out of desperation. When you set the cup down, that little cracked mouth seems to smile.
This goes on for what feels like days. The mimic helps you limp along through the tunnels, transforming into whatever you may need at any given time. Every time you fall asleep, you expect not to wake up. Yet, you do, usually with a mimic blanket wrapped around you. It brings you food and water when you can.
The biggest surprise comes when one morning, you find you’re pleased to have survived another night. You’re happy to have the mimic keeping you warm. It’s a new feeling, and a confusing one, but it’s not unpleasant.
The other monsters that you know are down here seem to leave you alone for the most part. You aren’t sure why. It crosses your mind that maybe it has something to do with the mimic. Then again, maybe they’re just waiting for you to die. Death is gradually beginning to sound less and less appealing.
The day you catch a glimpse of sunlight down a long and narrow tunnel is the first day you finally feel like your old self again. Your pace quickens, and you don’t need to lean on the mimic’s staff form quite so much. The illusion shatters when you reach the light’s source. A small gap, high above. You curl up on the floor and cry. When you finally have the strength to look up again, your mimic has become a ladder.
Getting up is hard, in your state. Climbing, even more so. But the ladder is the biggest and best transformation the mimic has done so far, and if it wants you to get out, then you can’t let it down.
You feel it push up under you when you reach the gap. It helps you squeeze through, and then… freedom. Fresh air, and sunlight. You lay on your back on the stone, and you pass out.
You wake up at sunset, with a blanket draoed over you. A blanket with a jagged seam down the middle.
Summary: You want something and Eddie does it best to make it happen!
Author's Note: I couldn't have a proper Kinktober celebration without adding some Eddie and although this is mostly soft and fun I just love him so! Thank you bunches to @blackwidownat2814 my lovely Nat for sharing some super fun Eddie coded tik toks that always help to inspire. Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @wannabehamlet thank you sweets! 🥰
Warnings: cute and fun fluff, softness, some sp-ic-y fun
Eddie Munson Masterlist
Kinktober 2023 Masterlist
“Eddie?”
You continue to comb your fingers through his curls, separating them and fixing them as you go.
“Hm?” he answers sleepily.
“I want to get a bat.”
As you wait for his response you warm some product between your hands.
“Well?” you ask when he doesn’t say anything.
Just when you reach for his curls again he turns his head and looks at you with big brown eyes.
“A bat?” he asks. “Like a fuzzy bat or a baseball bat…cause these are two very different things. I’m sure Steve has a bat we can use but a fuzzy flying bat is a whole….”
He trails off and makes wild gestures with his hands, flapping them this way and that and making weird bat sounds.
“One of those,” you giggle and then turn his head back around so you can smooth the product into his hair.
“A bat,” he repeats.
“Yeah. A fuzzy, flying, fruit eating, hanging upside down cute as hell bat.”
After his hair is properly styled for his show tonight he leaps to his feet and leans over you as you sit on the edge of the bed.
“Where are we getting this bat?” he asks.
You shrug and slide backwards to give him room. He sits cross legged in front of you and stares.
“Look,” you start and grab the book lying on the bed.
“What is that?”
“A book,” you deadpan.
He narrows his eyes and tilts his head.
You smile and roll your eyes. “I got it at the library yesterday. LOOK HOW CUTE!”
You flip open to a page with a picture of a flying fox bat and point, sticking it in his face.
“EDDIE LOOK!” you squeal again.
He looks from you to the picture and back to you.
“It’s SO CUTE!” he screeches.
“I KNOWWWWWW!”
You scoot closer to him and he uncrosses his legs, spreading them so you can sit between them. His arms wrap around your waist and he takes the book from your hands, laying it on your lap so he can flip through it.
“What kind is this?” he asks when you get to a picture of a large bat with a huge wing span.
“The giant golden-crowned flying fox,” you read. “the largest bat in the world with a wing span up to five feet!”
“Jesus Christ,” he says. “I think maybe the little guys are better.”
“IS THAT A YES!??!”
“Sweetheart,” he murmurs as his head dips to your neck. “We can’t really get a bat.”
His kiss momentarily distracts you but when his words sink in you turn in his arms and give him a sad look.
“Oh come on angel, don’t do that!” he whines. “I hate when you’re sad.”
“But, but…look.” Your words are quiet and soft as you hold up another picture of one of the smaller bats. A fruit bat eating a mango.
“Little fuckers really are adorable,” he muses. “But I’m pretty sure we don’t have those kind of bats here in Hawkins.”
“Maybe we can rescue one?”
He studies you for a moment, several emotions contorting his features as he clearly tries to think of a way to make this happen for you.
You sigh and slump into his body, leaning your head along his shoulder and taking one of his curls to twirl around your finger.
“I’ll dress up as a bat for Halloween,” he offers with a sweet smile.
Your eyes light up at the thought of it but you quickly remind him you already have your costumes ready.
“I’ll figure something out,” he promises.
You snuggle closer and nuzzle his neck. “Do you want me to do your eyeliner for tonight?”
“Sure sweetheart, thanks.”
“Ok, lemme just get changed first so I’m ready to go.”
He reluctantly releases you and falls flat on your bed, spreading out like a star fish.
After you’re changed you find him in the same position, eyes closed and his breathing steady with his curls spread out wildly on the pillow.
“Eddie?” you say softly as you sit on the bed.
He stirs and blinks open an eye.
“Hmm must have fallen asleep,” he mumbles as he starts to sit up.
He rubs his hand over his face and gives his cheek a soft slap to wake up and once he is fully present he looks you over, his eyes nearly bulging out of his head when he sees your outfit.
“Good heavens!” he squeaks when his eyes drop to your chest.
You snort laugh and give him a look.
“Are you for real right now?” you ask.
His eyes stay glued to your cleavage and he licks his lips. “Are you for real right now?”
“You don’t like my shirt?”
You run your fingers lightly across your collarbone and arch your back.
“Angel…come on, I mean…you can’t go out like that.”
He grabs one of his girls and starts to mindlessly chew on it, still staring.
“What does that mean?” you fire back.
“It means! My dick is already hard and I haven’t even touched you yet. You expect me to sing and play guitar while staring at those?!?!?!”
You smirk and climb into his lap, straddling his waist.
“Oh,” you breathe out when you feel him beneath you.
“Yeah,” he hums, lifting his fingers and wiggling them in anticipation.
He traces the swell of your breasts with his calloused fingertips. “Fuck,” he hisses.
“I have to do your liner,” you whisper.
“Ok.” He audibly swallows and tries to focus on your face.
You grab the pen. “Close your eyes.”
His gaze drops again and you give him a pointed look.
“Eddie,” you scold. “Close ‘em.”
He sighs dramatically and closes his eyes. You start to apply the liner but his hands start to wander, feeling around the air to make a grab.
“If you don’t behave I’m going to either poke your eye out or stab you with his eye liner pencil.”
He concedes with another intense huff and drops his hands to the bed, curling his fingers into the soft comforter.
After you line the bottom you check your work and give him a thumbs up.
“Hot,” you state.
Without warning he takes the liner from between your fingers and then grabs you, flipping you onto your back and settling his weight on top of you.
His lips hover just above yours as his fingertips dance along your stomach and his curls tickle your skin.
“We’re gonna be late Eddie.”
“But, but….but!”
With a rock of his hips he grazes his knuckles along your skin, his rings teasing every inch he touches.
“You need time to set up…”
Your eyes start to flutter closed.
“But…” he whispers against your lips.
“Look we both want things we can’t have right now,” you sigh as you press your hands to his chest.
“What?” he asks, clearly confused and still staring at your boobs.
“I want a bat and you want boobs.”
“Just your boobs.”
“Of course,” you acknowledge.
“And I kinda want a bat too,” he adds.
“I’ll throw your flannel on for now.”
“I didn’t say to do that,” he whines.
“Ok then I won’t but let’s go! We’re going to be late.”
You slide off the bed and grab your shoes, bending down to put them on. His muttered curses draw your attention and you catch him staring again.
Before you can respond he grabs his flannel and throws it in your direction. “Just put it on so I don’t have to go on stage with a boner.”
“Fine,” you say and blow him a kiss. “But I can’t promise I’ll leave it on the whole time.”
“Fine,” he shoots back. “And I can’t promise I won’t take you to the back room and fuck your brains out after the show.”
“Fine!”
“Fine!”
“That was amazing!” you yell, still hyped up from Eddie and Corroded Coffin’s music.
“You know what’s amazing sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs as he drags you back stage. “You.”
“Eddie,” you giggle.
His lips on yours silence any other words and when he kicks the door of the back room shut and presses you against it you grab for his vest and start to tug it off his shoulders.
He pulls away and you chase his lips, whining out his name.
“Nuh uh angel,” he smirks.
He gathers your wrists between his fingers and slowly lifts your arms over your head, pressing your hands to the door.
“Eddie,” you gasp.
He runs his nose along the length of your neck, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear when he whispers, “I’m going to worship you.”
By the time you get home the early morning sun is brightening the horizon in soft hues of pink and orange.
You and Eddie collapse into bed and fall asleep in a tangle of limbs and bare skin. It isn’t until you start to feel a slight chill that you shift and search for the blanket, only to find the other half of the bed empty.
“Eddie?” you mumble as you crack open an eye.
His leather jacket is missing from the floor and his keys aren’t on the dresser.
You search for a note, spotting a small, ripped piece of paper sitting under a die on his pillow.
“Ran out for a minute angel, be back soon. Stay in bed xoxo <3.”
With a smile you press the paper to your chest and curl back up, pulling the covers tightly around you.
“Hey sweetheart,” Eddie whispers, lightly shaking your shoulder.
You stir and whine out something incoherent but he catches his name and it makes him laugh.
“I have something for you…Sweetheart.”
He removes his shoes and takes off his jacket then slides into bed and starts to place soft kisses along your bare shoulder.
Your lips turn up in a smile and you whisper, “you’re back.”
“And I have a surprise for you!”
You lift your head and rest it on your elbow, blinking several times before focusing on Eddie and his excited smile.
“Ready???”
“YES EDDIE WHAT IS IT!” you squeal, now fully awake. “SHOW MEEEEEEEE!”
He keeps the surprise behind his back even as you grab at him and plead, until finally he kisses you.
Once you’re breathless and melting into the bed he stops and slowly reveals what he’s been hiding.
It’s small but not too small and black and soft and has sparkly wings and little fangs and big round eyes and It’s perfect.
“You got me a bat,” you say softly and take it from his hands. “He’s so ridiculously cute and perfect.”
You smush the stuffed bat to your chest and squeeze it hard before launching yourself at Eddie.
He catches you in his arms and lays you back down, curling you into his chest and covering you all with the blanket.
“I know he isn’t a real bat…”
“He’s just the cutest. Where did you find him?” you ask.
“I went to Starcourt this morning.”
You go still in his embrace and your eyes get wide.
“You went…to the mall?!?”
“Yeah…and it wasn’t that bad…I guess. I went. I saw. I conquered!”
He waggles his eyebrows and you let out a peel of laughter before your expression softens and you snuggle closer.
“You really are the best; you know that Eddie.”
“Anything to make you happy angel,” he coos. “What are you gonna name him?”
“Well my first thought was Eddie of course but then I thought…Dio?”
His eyes light up. “DIO!” he shouts, taking the bat and looking him over. “He looks like a Dio.”
“He does right?” you reflect. “What about Dio Edward Munson?”
“Edward huh?” he smirks.
“Yeah. He’s a distinguished bat,” you state proudly.
“Well, it’s official. Welcome to the family Dio Edward Munson.”
Eddie kisses the top of Dio’s head then slides his thumb across your cheek, pulling you in for a kiss of your own.
break me (then help me find the pieces) -- Mikey Berzatto x F!Reader
I wrote this on my phone last year (in August) and I finally decided to finish it and post it.
Tags/Warnings: Smut (18+ only! Fingering, dirty talk, protected p in v/the reader is on birth control, Mikey uses the pet name(s) “angel/baby/sweetheart”, blowjobs, light choking/spanking, rough/after care). Brief mentions of alcoholism/addiction (it’s implied the reader struggles with addiction). Explicit language. Light angst if you squint. No use of Y/N.
wc: 2k
🍝🍝🍝 (Read on Ao3) 🍝🍝🍝
The clock ticks well past midnight. You’re not expecting anyone at this hour and you didn’t receive a suggestive text beforehand. But when he knocks on your door, you let him in, because it’s Mikey. You never could refuse him.
You taste bourbon on his tongue – smoky and dark – something of a metaphor for your not-quite relationship. You and Michael were too fucked up in your own ways to seriously date. For starters, you were never sober at the same time. And you carry enough secrets between one another to put Area 51 to shame.
Summary: You and Mikey have been casually seeing each other for a few weeks. After a late night text from him, you make the drunken insomniac executive decision of calling him back. Naughtiness ensues.
Or: the one where you and Michael have phone sex.
Warnings: 18+, SMUT, M/F. Minors DNI // PWP, P!rn With Feelings. Phone sex, flirting, teasing, sexual innuendos, dirty talking, mentions of oral sex (m. receiving), masturbation (m. and f.), sexual fantasies, role-playing scenarios, librarian k!nk, mentions of rough sex. // Blink-and-you-miss-it angst, alcohol use, mentions of insomnia, anxiety and self esteem issues.
Word count: 3.8k
Read below the cut OR on AO3
Notes: Reader wears glasses in this - don't look at me like that, it's integral to the plot 🙄
For the history nerds, the quote at the beginning is from the book "Fire from Heaven" by Mary Renault, about the relationship between Alexander the Great and his friend and lover, Hephaestion.
Enjoy! As always, likes, comments and reblogs are very appreciated ♡
His feelings were confused; he wanted to grasp till Alexander's very bones were somehow engulfed within himself, but knew this to be wicked and mad; he would kill anyone who harmed a hair of his head…
… you yawned at the page you’d been reading (i.e., staring at without absorbing a single bit of information), before turning your head to the nightstand and seeing the clock mark 2:49 am.
“Good god”, you whispered, tiredly rubbing your face with one hand, while the other reached for the half-full glass of red wine keeping you company in your insomnia.
Technically, you knew drinking was the last thing you should be doing on a weeknight, when you were having a hard time falling asleep and were expected at work in the morning. But living alone was really not helping you behave like a responsible adult with bills to pay. So, you slowly sip your wine, read your book, and hope that eventually your brain will give up and allow you to pass out for at least a few hours.
Suddenly, your phone lights up with a text. Michael B., it says on the screen. A pang of excitement hits you, and you immediately scoff for reacting so earnestly to a text from a guy you’ve been with (not even biblically, just the daytime coffee dates that people with busy lives manage to pack into a crazy week) for a grand total of two times and less than two hours, overall. Not pathetic at all.
Still, you can’t help but reach for the phone.
Hey, I know it’s late and you probably won’t read this until morning, sorry. Wanna have dinner at that spot we talked about? I can pick you up at the office ;) – M.
You smile, and without really thinking, hit the call button.
He picks up quickly, an amused tone in his voice. “Well, I was not expecting that. What the hell are you still doing up, princess? No work tomorrow?”
You laugh. “God, I wish. I just can’t sleep. Haven’t had one of these nights in a while… my brain won’t shut up, even though I’m so tired I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck”.
“Ooof. That fucking sucks.”
“Yup.”
“Well, I’m glad to be your booty call in this desperate time.”
“Michael”, you laugh so hard you choke on some wine and must set the glass back on the table. “I really don’t think that’s what this is”.
“Oh, no?”, he feigns innocence.
“No…”, chuckling, you continue with the most sultry, mock-seductive voice you can muster “… a booty call is if I was like: Sooo, Mikey… are you, like, busy right now? Do you wanna… come over? I’m aaall alone…”.
You make sure to put particular emphasis on the word ‘come’ and Mike sounds like he is doubling over with laughter. “That was the worst proposition I have ever heard, no doubt”.
“Oh, yeah? Well, you’re officially off my booty call list. I don’t need this kind of negativity in my life.”
“Ah, shit… I fucked up now, didn’t I?”, you swear you can hear his grin from the other end of the line. And see the laugh lines that form on the corner of his eyes when he smiles genuinely, the rare but so cute nose crinkle that makes your belly flutter…
You would love to get a fucking grip, thank you very much, but the wine was making you incapable of keeping a level head in this flirtation.
“Well… all is not lost. Taking me out to dinner is a good start to redeem yourself. If your game is on point tomorrow, your booty call list status might be revised… in the not-so-far future”, you add, suggestively.
“Shit. Now the stakes are on. I gotta be on my best behavior tomorrow, then”.
“I don’t know about best behavior…”. You feel like slapping yourself for your lack of subtlety.
He chuckles. “So… you like them a little nasty, huh?”
You’re glad he can’t see you blush furiously. “Not like that… but I do like a man who isn’t afraid to… take what he wants. Respectfully, of course.”
“Of course… damn, girl. You’re getting me thinking about all sorts of things…”
“Well, you’re the one who started talking about booty calls. It’s technically your fault”.
“That’s fucking rich. I was being a gentleman, sent you a sweet text and all. Not a single sex reference!”, he says, proudly.
“Ok, that is true”, you concede, laughing softly. “Are you still at the restaurant?”
He sighs deeply. “Yeah… paperwork coming out of my eyeballs. I don’t even understand how the hell I organized this mess”. You hear rustling through the line, and imagine the mess of letters, invoices and bills that must be covering his office desk.
“That fucking sucks”.
“Word”. His chair squeaks loudly. “So… what are you wearing?”
You laugh. “You’re unbelievable”.
“What? I’m just trying to keep the conversation light, you know? Nobody wants to hear about my fuckin’ paperwork at 3 am”.
It was subtle, but you could sense something deeper in his words (sadness? self-deprecation?).
“I wouldn’t mind hearing about your ‘fuckin’ paperwork’ at any time of day, Michael”.
The line goes silent, and you fear you went too deep, too soon. Made this weird in record time, wow.
“I didn’t mean it like… I meant if you want to talk to me about your shitty day, you know, you can, but I don’t want you to be uncomf-”
“Hey, hey, it’s okay sweetheart. I get it… thank you for that”, he says, softly. “Maybe some other time. Right now, I honestly just wanna forget about this for a little while... I was really pumped when you called”.
“That’s okay. Really?” You smile, relieved.
“Yeah, really. So… wanna make a guy happy and tell him what you’re wearing?”
With a chuckle, you concede. “Well, nothing. I’m in bed and I sleep naked, so… yeah”.
There’s a heavy pause. “Holy shit. Are you for real?”
“Um, yeah?”
“Jesus, fuck… baby, you can’t say stuff like that and expect me to be normal about it”.
You grin, having just decided that, actually, you wanna play dirty.
“Who says I want you to be normal about it? Besides”, you throw back, suggestively, “I hardly think a woman can be held accountable for what she says after four glasses of wine on a Thursday night… naked and alone, in such a big bed…”
“Now, see, that was a much better pitch for a booty call than the first o-”
“I’m gonna hang up.”
“No, no, no, I’m sorry”, he laughs.
“You’re an asshole”. Even as you say it, you’re smiling.
“And you are a minx, lady. Gettin’ a guy all worked up…”
“Oh, my... I don’t know what you mean…”, you whisper into the comforter, now balled up in your fist over your mouth, as if to cover up your blushing cheeks from an invisible audience.
“Oh, I disagree… I think you know exactly what you’re doing”. There’s a note of sarcasm in his voice you find exhilarating. A sudden noise – like a chair squeaking loudly on a panel floor – can be heard from his end. Followed by… a metallic rattle, more subtle but still clear. A… belt unbuckling?
Wait. Is he…?
You grin, amused. “Mr. Berzatto… I’m hearing suspicious noises. What is going on over there?”
A deep grunt. “Nothin’ much, sweetheart. Just making myself comfortable, is all”.
“And how exactly are you doing that, mister?”
“You know… freeing the junk.”
Your eyebrows shoot up. “Well, that certainly helps set the mood”.
“Hm… baby, can I ask you for something? It’s totally fine if you don’t wanna do it… but I figure I might as well shoot my shot.”
You notice you are sitting up very still against the pillows in your bed, holding your breath in anticipation. “Sure… what is it?”
A heavy pause follows. Your heart feels like it’s about to beat itself out of your ribcage, your throat feels dry, and your tongue sits heavy and thick in your mouth, the taste of wine suddenly overpowering your senses. And you are so horny.
“Could you… send me a photo of you right now? Are you wearing those new glasses?”. He sounds… eager, almost nervous with the way he trips over the second question.
Oh. Something clicks for you, then. You smile. “So, you really liked the new glasses, huh?”
“Shit… c’mon, don’t bust my balls about it”, he says, with an embarrassed chuckle of admission.
“I’m not! It’s very flattering, actually”. You hope you conveyed how much you are not making fun of him. However, you hate misunderstandings, and to dispel any that might be going on here, you decide there is only one acceptable solution.
“Give me a minute”, you tell him, determined. You don’t wait for an answer before you drop your phone and get to work.
Meanwhile, Mikey sits in his rusty office chair, in what he thinks must look like a very… undignified position. Cock out, right hand stroking it lazily, slumped back with his jeans barely down his ass, work shirt dirty and stinking of cooking oil, his entire body tense in a mix of anticipation and shame. A part of him can’t help but wonder if you are fucking with him: laughing from the other end of the line, leaving him hanging – literally and figuratively (he chuckles dejectedly at the realization that he still remembers something from high school Lit class). He guesses he would kinda deserve that. What type of freak asks for nudes after two… dates? Do those rapid-fire coffee-grabs even count? He is so shit at this. Anything more than a casual hook-up or a quickie behind a sleezy pub is rocket science for him. ‘Congrats, loser! You just fucked it, yet again’.
Then, his phone pings. 5 photos received.
In the first one, you are lying on your side, in bed, a dim warm light illuminating the scene. He can see the contours of your body clearly, despite being covered by a layer of nearly sheer white sheets. His gaze follows your exposed collarbone, to the silhouette of your breasts – he is sure you purposefully allowed a bit of side-boob to slip past the entrapment of sheets… just for him.
He swears he could stare at the shapes of your body all day and never get tired – or limp. His dick is throbbing painfully, now.
It does not get better when he sees the rest of the photos. Your face is visible, on those. The last two are his favorites. You are laying on your stomach, with the reading glasses on, as promised – except they sit lower on your nose than usual, so that your eyes peak out from over the top of the frames. Your hair is down, tousled and wild like it’s just gotten messed up. ‘Is this what she looks like after…’. You are holding a glass of wine to your mouth – lips plump and lightly tinged red – that detail drives him a little insane –, and in front of you lays a book, delicately held open with your other hand. And in the last photo, the sheets have slipped lower down your breasts, revealing a generous cleavage. You’re staring directly at the camera with an inquiring gaze, biting your lower lip. ‘Come get me’.
“… Mike? Are you still there?”
It’s been some time since you sent the photos (twenty seconds, which your anxiety tells you is actually half an hour), with no reaction from him. Your cheeks heat up, and you suddenly feel very silly and insecure. Are they even… good? What makes a good nude? Do these even qualify as nudes? You’re not showing anything super explicit… they’re suggestive, at best. Is he going to think you’re a prude? God, why is this so diff-
Mike clears his throat. “Yeah, I… fuck. Fuckin’ hell. Holy shit. Sweetheart… these are so hot. Jesus… thank you so much. You’re so fuckin’ gorgeous…”. The last part comes out as a whisper, like he’s starstruck.
You didn’t know it was possible to get more flustered than you already were. “You’re welcome… I’m flattered I managed to make Michael Berzatto incoherent over some low-res thirst trap selfies.”
“Baby, these are genuinely the hottest pics I’ve ever seen. You look like a hot librarian or something”.
You laugh out loud, triumphantly. “Ah! I knew it!”
“What?”, he laughs along.
“Something you wanna share with the class, Mr. Berzatto?”.
“Fuck, don’t stop calling me that, sweetheart”, he says, sounding out of breath.
“Yeah?”, you whisper.
“Fuck, yeah. It’s just… I’ve got a thing for girls with a kinda nerdy, librarian type of vibe, you know? And when I saw you this last time, holding a book and wearing your reading glasses… I gotta admit, my mind went straight to the gutter.”
Interesting. “Really? What did you imagine then?”.
A pause. “I’m not sure you want to hear it… I don’t want you thinking I’m a pervert or something”.
You sigh. “Mikey, I just sent you near-naked photos of me. We’re having phone sex. We are two horny adults having fun. Besides…”, you switch your tone to what you hope comes across as faux innocence, “… I asked you about it. It is kinda my fault, right? I guess I was kind of… bad”.
“Oh, is that what’s happening?”. He chuckles, as if saying challenge accepted. “Alright, then. When I saw you like that for the first time, this image popped into my head, right? I mean, you looked like a really hot librarian. So, I started picturing you in that scenario, with big glasses and all – just like the photos you sent me… except you had your hair in a cute ponytail, and your lips were even redder with lipstick… and you were wearing fishnet stockings up to your thighs – fuck, you got such nice legs, baby –, and you had a pair of those… what are they called. Uh, kitten heels. Yeah. Fuck, your ass would look unbelievable like that. I mean, it is unbelievable, you know what I mean? When you show up at the restaurant wearing those cute little dresses and skirts, I feel my dick twitching in my pants… that’s how hot you are, baby… that’s how crazy you make me feel.”
His words were streaming out like an avalanche – a filthy stream-of-consciousness. Flash images of all the times you were together pop into your mind. He was always nice and polite to you, if cheeky – that was his personality, after all. You’d never felt disrespected or threatened around him. Maybe that’s why, now that you knew he had been actively thinking about you like this… you were very turned on.
“Too much, sweetheart? You wanna keep listening to this filth?”
“… yeah, Mikey. Keep going. What happened then?”
“Then, I took you to a hidden corner in the library, rucked up your pretty little skirt and ripped your real nice dress shirt open… you know, so I could suck on your tits while I fucked you hard against some shelves. Didn’t even need to rip your panties off, ‘cause you weren’t wearing any. Just lifted you up and slammed my cock right into your pussy… God, you were drippin’ wet for me, and you mewled so sweetly… loud, too. Had to shove my fingers into your pretty mouth to keep you quiet. That’s what I imagined, sweetheart. More or less.”
The crass and vivid way in which he described his fantasy made you speechless. It was exhilarating. Knowing that all those times he had talked to you with a straight face, he had been actively fantasizing about fucking you hard. His words.
“Jesus Christ, Mikey”, you breathe out. “That’s… I can’t believe we had entire conversations while you had a cheap porn flick playing in your head”, you laugh softly, unconvincingly.
He sighed deeply. “See, I knew this was a bad idea… honey, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel like shit. I guess I’m just a fucking perv-”
“Babe…”, you interrupt him, gentle, but firm, “shut up, please. I’m messing with you. I told you, it’s very flattering that you’re attracted to me. In fact… it’s super hot. Knowing you were having all those dirty thoughts about me while still being a gentleman… is making me feel all kinds of things, right now.”
“Yeah? What kinds of things?”
“Good things, Mikey… I’m so wet right now”, you mewl, the need for release in your core overwhelming the embarrassment you would be feeling otherwise. Without thinking, you kick the sheets away from your body and cup one of your breasts, kneading it and flicking your nipple – a moan leaves your mouth in a desperate plea.
“Fuck”, he whispers, “you got wet over that filth? Jesus Christ, baby. I won the fuckin’ lottery”.
You are burning with desire, and you can feel your pussy throbbing when you finally give in, sliding one hand down and shoving two fingers inside with barely any resistance. “Mikey… I wanna come so bad. Can you talk me through it… please?”
“Fuck… yeah, sweetheart, anything you want”. He moans, then, and you don’t think you have ever been so turned on in your life. Mikey Berzatto, a horny, moaning mess, jerking off in his mess of an office at 3 am… because of you.
Chicago’s Helen of Troy. You chuckled softly at the thought and decided to up the ante. “Baby… do you know what I was thinking when you were telling that beautiful story just now?”
He laughs, voice recked. “What, baby?”
You pout, and add another finger in, increasing the pace of the thrusts. “I wish you had pictured kissing me real hard, while I unbuckled your belt… would you let me get down on my knees for you, baby? I really wanna have you in my mouth, Mikey, like, right now”. Your words come out broken, sentences all messed up – you sound pathetic, but you are so past caring.
“Shit-”, a gasp, followed by a deep breath and the noise of something hitting a surface really hard. “… holy shit. Baby, I imagined all that and a whole lot more – seriously, you have no idea. Hell, if the lady wants to suck my dick, who am I to deny her, uh? Fuck. Would you let me fuck your mouth, baby…?”
You moan loudly at that and realize you need both hands, putting the phone on speaker – fuck the neighbors – and bringing your other hand to your clit, rubbing lightly, but fast. You were so close. The thought of kneeling on the floor, clothes and hair all messed up from Mikey’s hands, lipstick smudged… looking up at him, and watching his composure unravel because of you…
“Hm… yeah, Mikey, I think I would… ‘cause you’re so nice to me… such a gentleman, even when you’re fucking me hard… would you ask me real nice, baby? Hold my face gently in your big hands, while you fuck it?”
“Fuck, baby… I would treat you so right, you deserve everything-”, he chokes up and, for a few moments, you hear a distant cacophony of noises, like he’s put the phone down. Then, he’s back. “Sorry, sweetheart, I need both hands now”, he chuckles.
You giggle, “Me too… you got me so hot I’m fucking myself on my fingers and rubbing my clit at the same time… and it’s still not enough. I need you…”
“Fuck, that’s so hot. You fuckin’ yourself because of me… I know it’s not enough, baby… you need my cock, don’t you?”
“Yes! Mikey… please…”, you howl, completely out of your mind.
“How do you want me to fuck you, baby? Hm? Want it nice and slow? Nah… I think you like it fast and rough, don’t you? Long as I keep kissing you real good, touchin’ you real gentle, all over your body… you’d let me do anything to you, wouldn’t you?”. How he manages to say such filthy things with so much honey dripping from every syllable, is beyond you.
“Yeah, fuck, baby… it doesn’t matter. I’m so wet already, you don’t need to do anything else, just hoist me up in your arms and pin me against the shelves… and shove it in me”.
You are still holding onto a shred of decency because you blush at your own crass admission – still, there is clearly not a whole lot left, as you start rubbing your clit and fucking yourself harder and faster. “I don’t want you to be gentle when you fuck me… I just need to feel your cock stretch me open… wanna feel the sting of it for days, be at work and not be able to focus because all I can think about is how you fucked me so good-”
At this point, you have no idea if he can understand anything you’re saying, because your words are intercut with moans and gasps and mewls and incoherent babble, as you’re about to reach your peak imagining Mikey’s on top of you, railing you into the bed.
“Baby, I’m gonna come… fuckin’ Christ”.
“Mikey- fuck!”.
Your body shakes and your eyes roll back from the strength of your orgasm. Distantly, your brain registers a broken string of moans and curses from the other end of the line.
A few seconds pass, and you feel yourself coming back down to Earth. You lazily stretch out on the bed, completely relaxed and fucked out. “That’s so cute… we came at the same time, babe”, you happily whisper, a ditsy smile on your face.
He huffs, amused “Yeah… what can I say? I’m a romantic at heart”.
You laugh sincerely. “This was… so good, actually. I’m glad I gave into my instinct and called you”.
“Well, I’m even more sticky now”. You both laugh at that. “But I’m also glad you called… like, really glad. Uh, can I ask you something?”
You notice a shift in his voice.
“Yeah… what is it?”
“I don’t want things to get weird between us after this… Like, I don’t want you to feel like you need to do all these things to get me off. You know what I mean? It’s just a fantasy… I’ll have you in any way you want me. Okay?”
You feel a tightness in your chest, and you wish, not for the first time tonight, you had him right in front of you so you could kiss him all over and hug him.
“Mikey… I genuinely liked tonight. And the more we talk, the more I like you. You’re not the only one who feels like you won the lottery…”.
“Baby… you’re too sweet. Don’t you think you already got me blushing enough for one night?”
“That’s fucking rich. I must’ve gone through all shades of red tonight, because of your filthy mouth”.
“Please. You loved it”, he chuckles.
“Yeah, I guess I did”, you concede, with a smile.
After saying goodbye – and confirming that yes, you would very much like for him to pick you up and take you to dinner later – you fall asleep fast, your mind finally catching up to the pleasant tiredness in your body, a soft smile on your lips.
Summary: It’s your Steve’s birthday, and you let him do whatever he wants to you.
Word count: 2.0K
Warning: SHAMELESS SMUT!! Steve is being nasty & unhinged. Oral (male receiving), face-fucking, & vaginal sex, creampied, Dirty talk (ooc ??? lol)
A/N: It’s that time of the year where I write Steve’s fic again, folks! Hope you liked it! Please do heed the warning that this Steve is a bit OOC. Also, it’s been a while that I write anything, so I please be kind. I’m a little rusty. No beta either, so if I missed anything, I apologize in advance. Reblog & comment is greatly appreciated and mean so much!!
** Do not copy, repost, or translate my works anywhere else !!
Hot and humid breath danced across your skin as his lips traced along the column of your neck, leaving trails of goosebumps in its wake. The heat from his body radiated off of him and enveloped you with nothing but his scent lacing with the sweetness of the wine–fresh, sweet, and warm just like the month of July.
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