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janaispunk · 2 months

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come morning light

chapter 2 • series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

summary: An injured Joel and Ellie stumble into your home in the middle of the night. Against your better judgement, you decide to help them.

word count: ~2.5k

tags/warnings: post outbreak, slow burn, found family, age gap (sorry not sorry), able-bodied reader, angst, reader has a sad sad backstory and ptsd, hurt/comfort, fluff, eventual smut, vague description of an injury

a/n: i'm finally finished with chapter 2, and once again nervous af about it haha. there's not terribly much happening in this one, but i promise we'll get there, it just needs the buildup :)

thank you @catchallfangirl for beta reading <3

follow @janaispunknotifs for fic updates and find my full masterlist here :)

dividers as always by the lovely @saradika-graphics 🤍

You don’t feel like you’ve slept at all, but after hours of tossing and turning in the darkness of your bedroom, you think it’s probably time to get up.

You’re halfway convinced that last night’s events were a product of your imagination, that your mind has felt so lonely that it conjured up the whole scenario. But when you step out of your bedroom and find the door of your parents’ bedroom only halfway closed, the way you have never left it before saying good night to Ellie earlier, you have to come to terms with the fact that this might actually be your reality.

Ellie seems to be sound asleep, a lump under the covers, softly breathing, but when you head to the living area and switch on one of the smaller lamps, you’re met with the piercing glare of Joel. He’s still lying on the couch, much like you left him, still pale, still dark shadows under his eyes, but he’s much more awake now, his gaze following your every move.

“Hey,” you say softly, sinking down on the same armchair that you sat in when you watched him last night while Ellie took a shower. You suppress a shudder at the way he regards you, his eyes flicking up and down your body, taking in your size, you presume, searching for weapons. Your gun is tucked into the waistband at the back of your pants, which you’re sure he’s already aware of. You don’t like the way he makes you feel, like somehow you’re intruding on him. You should have the upper hand, this is your home and he’s injured, you helped him for crying out loud, and here you are, nervously watching his every move. You did the right thing. It’s gonna be fine.

“Where’s Ellie?” he asks, ignoring your greeting, his voice gruff.

“Sleeping,” you reply, nodding your head to the bedroom door. “She’s okay, I promise.”

Some of the tension seems to release from his body and he slumps back down a little, but the distrust in his expression when he looks at you doesn’t waver. Then again, you’re probably not much different.

“Look,” you sigh, “I’m not playing some kind of game here. You came into my house, I saw that you needed help, so I helped.” You try to infuse your voice with as much confidence as you can. “Don’t make me regret that, okay?”

He shrugs, a noncommittal grunt the only verbal answer. It could potentially be interpreted as a thanks, you guess. In a less tense situation, you’d probably grow annoyed by now. Shrugging yourself, you get to your feet and head to the kitchen. Anything to escape the way he’s watching your every movement.

“Hey, do you want coffee?” You don’t really want to offer him any, but you’d feel weird drinking it yourself without asking.

He pipes up at the question, head turning in your direction, his face the most open that you’ve seen it yet. “You have coffee?”

“Yeah.” That’s why I’m fucking asking.

“I– yes.” A breath, a second of him not meeting your eyes. “Thanks.”

You smile, small, fleetingly, busying yourself with the ground beans and the boiling water, reveling in the smell that slowly spreads throughout the room. It reminds you of happier times, when the world was still normal.

He has pushed himself into a sitting position, breathing heavily, when you walk over to hand him the steaming cup, still careful to keep your distance.

After you sit back down, the both of you stay silent for a few minutes. You enjoy the bitter taste on your tongue, the way you slowly feel your energy rising.

“Does it hurt much?” you ask eventually, gesturing towards his stomach.

Another grunt, the hint of a head shake.

“So it does.” He opens his mouth, the protest most likely already on his tongue, and you raise an eyebrow. “I have painkillers, are you sure that you–”

“No.” It comes fast, his voice raised, no room for arguments.

You instinctively flinch back at the unexpected louder sound, the cup shaking in your grip. You set it down on the table in front of you. Have your hands free, just in case.

There’s a hint of regret in his eyes, his free hand slightly raised, palm open. He’s trying to calm you down, you realize.

“Okay,” you breathe, working hard to keep your voice steady, “no painkillers, got it.”

“Sorry,” he mutters, his face half hidden, words almost lost behind the cup. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s alright,” you tell him as much as yourself.

You’ve gotten jumpy, not used to loud sounds anymore, raised voices, not used to humans in general, you suppose. You hadn’t fully realized it until now, until there’s other humans around you again.

“Thank you,” he continues unexpectedly, “not just for the coffee, but– you know.” He’s struggling, the words not coming easily, but you think that he’s being earnest. “Patching me up.”

“Of course.” You nod hastily, your heart still beating a little too fast.

Another moment passes in silence, both of you slowly sipping the coffee. He’s looking around, taking in his surroundings, eyes lingering on the closed wooden doors and the stairs leading up. You try not to get nervous about it. It’s normal that he would want to know more about where he is, after all.

“This is the basement, right? Is it safe?”

“Yeah,” you breathe. “No way to get in from outside.” As long as you stay inside, you’re safe.

He hums, appreciatively, you think.

“How long have you been living here?”

“Always. It’s my parents’ house. I mean–” you laugh, but it comes out hollow, “we lived upstairs, obviously. But my dad was… kinda crazy. Or– not that crazy, I guess, all things considered.” Your lips curl into a wry smile.

Your mind flashes back to long lectures about survival techniques, learning how to shoot, your father going on and on about first aid, hunting, all the things that you couldn’t have cared less about as a teenage girl, but were ingrained in your brain nonetheless. You’re grateful, now, but it’s laced with guilt about how often you snapped at your father, how often you told him he was paranoid, seeing dangers that weren’t there, that he was wasting your time. You couldn’t have known, the rational part of you argues. But you can never take it back now, the guilt whispers.

When you look up, Joel’s eyes are on you, eyebrows raised in question. You shake your head, trying to clear it. Stay in the present.

“Sorry, what did you–?”

Worry is painting his expression. “Are you okay?”

Don’t show weakness. “Yeah, of course. Just spaced out for a second.”

You force a smile onto your face and stand up rather abruptly, gathering both cups and putting them into the sink. Joel hasn’t moved, but you feel his eyes on you as you move.

“Do you, um, do you want to shower, maybe? Or just wash up, I don’t know, how–” You gesture towards the dried bloodstain on his flannel, forcefully keeping your tone light. “I have clean clothes, too, if you want.”

A shiver runs through you at the thought of going through your dad’s things, of someone else wearing them. He doesn’t need them anymore. He’s not coming back.

You know that you’ve gone silent for too long again even before you see Joel’s expression. He doesn’t ask this time, but there’s something in his eyes that you can’t place, something that almost looks like understanding.

“Yeah, I guess cleaning up a bit would be nice. I– thank you. Again”

His voice is gruff and he avoids your eyes. You think that he doesn’t like it, having to thank you. Owing you.

Giving him a nod, you head to the bedroom, hoping not to disturb Ellie, but she’s awake already, her eyes glinting in the light that’s falling into the dark room from the living area. You clench your jaw, heading for one of the drawers, trying hard not to think about what you’re doing. It’s not like he ever wore this stuff, it was just sitting down here. It’s fine, you’re fine.

“Don’t worry, it’s not about you,” Ellie says quietly from beside you, breaking through your racing thoughts.

You turn towards her, confusion on your face. “What is?”

“Joel,” she shrugs, still keeping her voice low. “He’s like that with everyone. He’s a bit of an asshole, really.” She sounds fond, saying it, like it’s an endearing character trait.

A surprised laugh escapes you. “I– okay, thanks, I guess.”

She waves it away, swinging her feet out of the bed. “No, thank you for not murdering me in my sleep.”

“Yeah, likewise.” You shake your head, still laughing to yourself. It’s so easy to like the girl, to feel like you already know her.

You hand Joel a pile of clothes, purposefully avoiding to look at them too closely, explain where the towels are and he grumbles his approval before the bathroom door closes behind him.

You release a breath and close your eyes for a second. You are undeniably warming up to Ellie, finding it almost impossible not to, but her companion is a different story.

“Hey, do you drink coffee?” you ask in the direction of the bedroom.

“Ew, no!” comes her reply as she steps out of the door, collecting the wild mess of hair on the top of her head and securing it in a ponytail.

Her offense at the mere suggestion makes you chuckle under your breath as you busy yourself with preparing breakfast in the form of porridge instead. She’s leaning against the doorframe, watching you, her eyes wide as she takes in the cupboards full of supplies.

You’re glad that you don’t need anything from the storeroom, keeping that door in the corner firmly closed. You want to trust her, want to trust them, but a feeling of unease still lingers at the thought of letting them know just how much you have.

Instead, you voice another question, a thought that fills you with unease as well.

“Hey,” you begin, keeping your eyes trained on the stove, “I’m sorry, but you and Joel, there– there isn’t anything weird going on, is there?”

“Like what?” She sounds slightly defensive, but when you steal a glance at her, she’s eyeing you with curiosity.

“I don’t know, like…” You shrug, stirring the mixture of water and oats, “you want to be here, he’s not forcing you to come with him or anything, right?”

“No, don’t worry about that,” comes her reply, almost amused. It was a bit of a stupid question, when you think about it, considering how worried she was about him last night, how protective.

“Okay,” you smile at her. You’re curious nonetheless, how they ended up together and where they’re headed, but it’s probably not really your place to ask.

You divide the porridge into three bowls and hand her one, while you carry yours and one for Joel back to the living area and set them down on the wooden table.

Ellie starts shoveling the food down immediately and you’re left wondering once more what happened to them and when they last ate something.

“So…” Ellie begins, her mouth still half full, “you’re just down here with all this food? Because your dad stored it here, before… things went to shit?”

You can’t blame her for her curiosity, you’re aware that you’ve probably found yourself in a better living situation than most people. Your thoughts go to the storeroom again, basically stuffed with enough supplies to last you multiple lifetimes, especially now that it’s just… No.

You hum in affirmation, not trusting your voice and you’re thankful that she’s too distracted by her breakfast to notice anything weird about your reaction.

“So you don’t go out hunting or anything?” comes her next question. You freeze.

You did go hunting, back when you cared about variance in the meals you prepared, about using fresh ingredients when you could. Until there was no need for that any more.

You realize that Ellie is saying your name, not for the first time, judging from the look on her face.

“Sorry,” you mumble, your hands tightening around the bowl. “No, I- I don’t go hunting.”

If she finds the situation weird, she shrugs it off impressively fast.

She nods to herself, eating quietly for a minute, before she speaks up again. “So what do you… do? Down here all day?”

“Uh…” What is it that you do all day? Time has been blurring together, days without anything happening repeating on a constant loop. You realize that you don’t remember, can’t talk of any activities that are part of your day. How long has it been like this?

You’re relieved from having to answer by Joel emerging from the bathroom, his face pale and his breaths going heavy. He has put on the sweatpants you gave him, but his torso is bare, the skin around the injury still an angry red.

He sinks back down into the cushions with a heavy sigh and you quickly get to work, cleaning the wound once more and giving him more antibiotics before you redo the bandages and hope for the best. Your hands don’t shake as badly as they did last night.

Ellie gets him some water and pushes his bowl of porridge into his hands, urging him to eat, before she turns to you. She’s trying to be strong, to hide her worry, but the pleading look in her eyes when she asks you if he’s gonna be okay tells a different story.

“Of course,” you say, giving her what you hope to be a reassuring smile.

Joel does look better after he’s eaten something, but his eyelids are drooping and after a few more minutes, his eyes close and his breath evens out. You do the dishes and check the cameras, calming down a bit more when you’re sure that everything seems to be quiet upstairs.

When you return to the living area, Ellie is rummaging through her pack, muttering to herself, until she pulls a book out of, proudly turning the cover for you to read it. No pun intended - Volume Too.

She starts reading them to you while you settle back down with a second cup of coffee and you share her laughs, enjoying the way it makes her look lighter, allows her to be a kid who can laugh at stupid jokes. You ignore the sting it causes in your chest because you once knew someone who would have loved this book just as much as Ellie does.

thank you for reading 🤍 if you liked this, please consider reblogging, leaving a comment or sending an ask, it truly makes my day every single time!

#fic: safe and sound #janas fics #joel miller #ellie williams #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedrostories

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moonpascaltoo · 4 months

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Fic Recs (steve harrington)

just some of my favorite one-shots or series i’ve read on ao3 and few from tumblr. all works ranging from 1.5k to 30k+ i believe. 18+ readers!

some have a tumblr that i tagged, but others i couldn’t find . i am doing this on mobile which is a bit difficult haha! i read these all (except 2) on ao3 so the links will be ao3. i know some are here on tumblr but i didn’t realize till after reading and making this! <3

steve harrington

come home by @stevie-petey <3💕

-"come home to me, okay?"

"always," steve promises

in between saving will, then hawkins, then somehow the world, you fall in love with steve harrington.

(a stranger things rewrite).

dancing with our hands tied by @andvys

-You and Steve have never seen eye to eye, and it never changed, not even when you were pulled into a world of monsters and risked your life to save him. But tension had always been between you both, something that neither of you ever wanted to admit -- but how much longer can you take it when the pull between you gets stronger and stronger each second you spend by each others side?

paint me red by eddiemunsons ao3

-You're one of Vickie's best friends. Her girlfriend, Robin, is in need of a distraction for her best friend, Steve Harrington, who you vaguely remember from school. Which is where you come in.

i’m your idiot by thebestandworstdayofjune ao3 @thebestandworstdayofjune

-Steve Harrington has a way of worming himself into your heart, and social situations you had done your best to exclude him from.

small hands, big heart by finalgirlharrington ao3 @sexybabystevie

-Steve Harrington has a massive crush on you, but his recent lack of luck in the romantic sense has him stuck on how to make a move. Plus, something about you makes him nervous in a way he's never been – in a way he likes. His simplest solution? Flirting via the old 'comparing hand sizes' method.

promise by Harley_Honey_Quinn ao3

-Reader learns about Steve's feelings thanks to some Russian truth serum.

kiss me by @corrodedseraphine

-Your friend is desperately trying to find a person who will give him something more. Wanting to feel what it's like to be loved again and after many failed dates he gets the idea that it's time to go back to King Steve's famous tactics. Telling him that it's not the best idea gets you involved in a deal where you have to help him get another girl. Will helping the boy you're in love with turn out to be a good idea? Probably not.

every rose has its thorn by @corrodedseraphine

-Christmas is coming to Hawkins. It is a time of joy and forgiveness. It turns out that your sister's best friend is looking for a new place to live, and you happen to have a spare room in the apartment. It wouldn't be a problem if that friend wasn't Steve Harrington. A man whom the more you try to avoid even more often comes back like a boomerang.

hearts on the telephone line by t_lostinworlds ao3 @t-lostinworlds

-You thought Steve was okay dealing with a long-distance relationship after you moved for an exciting internship in New York. But you were proven so wrong when your boyfriend finally poured his feelings over the phone. Because distance wasn't making his heart grow fonder, it was breaking it.

competitively stupid by t_lostinworlds ao3 @t-lostinworlds

-It was stupid, jumping off a cliff just to prove that you were better than Steve fucking Harrington. But you were competitive. You were not losing to him. But you know what was stupider? For it to take a near-death situation for you both to confess what you truly feel for each other.

perfect blend by Your_Writer ao3

-No one likes their summer job. Working at a coffee shop was sticky, exhausting, and overall boring. In fact, the highlight of your day was the charming, gentle eyed sailor scooping USS Butterscotch just across the way.

the things we don’t say by rdrickheffley ao3

-Steve Harrington once was the bane of Y/n's existence. He had always been an arrogant asshole and a terrible kisser. She never understood how others fell for the boy's eye-roll worthy charm. Now it seems like he will do anything to prove her wrong about anything.

next time? by rdrickheffley ao3

-Three instances where Steve and reader find themselves in intimate situations.

candyfloss and confessions by ACourtofSnakesandStars ao3

-You’ve been in love with Steve Harrington for years, like every cliche come to life. You’ve battled monsters, found friends within kids with superpowers, and you even managed to graduate. Yet the one thing you’ve never been able to do, is tell Steve how you feel. But maybe you don’t need to wait any longer.

a night to remember by RaeWrites94 ao3

-Steve has to attend his 10 year high school reunion and somehow manages to convince you to go as his date and his fake girlfriend. You've had feelings for him for a long time, but figure, why not? You could probably survive an evening of pretending he liked you back and come out unscathed. Right?

with bated breath by brianmay ao3

-Rumors fly after you attend Steve Harrington’s party one weekend in September. Thinking they were his doing, you do everything in your power to avoid him, which proves easier said than done.

cross my heart (and hope to die) by @talesofesther

-Every time Steve gets hurt, you're there to help pick up the pieces; you just weren't expecting him to fall for you in the process.

tales of a love between the lines by @talesofesther

-Sometimes the thing we want most is right in front of us, and Steve might be just that for you; all you have to do is see what he’s been showing you for a long time.

love is easy by seidenbros ao3

-The day you wrote I love you on a post-it note before you'd said the words out loud, and it's the best note Steve ever got.

everything means nothing if i can’t have you by iridescentpetrichor ao3

-Steve and Y/N go on a double date to impress the other one, but it's only so long until the tension between the two breaks.

you’re not by frostandflames ao3 @frostandflamesfanfic

-The year is 1985, you're on a school field trip to cheer on Hawkins High at the championship game before spring break. When the game doesn't pan out as expected, you're even more surprised to discover the one and only Steve Harrington in only his underwear at your hotel room after being locked out by his teammates. What happens when the two of you have a little heart to heart?

last christmas by frostandflames ao3 @frostandflamesfanfic

-You and Steve had always been childhood friends-and remained that way. As Steve ping-pongs around in his relationship status, you have a hard time keeping your feelings to himself as Nancy surrounds his entire world. What Steve doesn't know is his relationship to Nancy may end your own with Steve.

the scoundrel and the princess by @mrshipsmcgee

-after an awkward run in with Tommy Hagan, Steve Harrington is invited to an awful party where he meets a beautiful stranger.

also have a ton under the (steve harrington x reader) on my blog! credit to the maker of the gif from pinterest!

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planet-dusk · 1 year

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today was so tiring i might just cry haha

do you mind if i ask a drabble or whatever you want about overwhelmed!reader being fucked by a skz member?

- 😽

sorry to hear about your day bby, here's a tiny blurb for u <33

🏷️ gn!reader, unprotected sex, somnophilia, mc is called baby

the gentle rocking of his hips leaves you drowsy, the dull pleasure of his cock hitting your most sensitive spots slowly building you up and putting you back together again.

minho’s hands and mouth roam your naked chest. he’s careful and calculated in his movements to make sure your tired brain can keep up. the orgasm he’d pulled from you earlier has soothed your aching body, the tension now replaced by a more pleasurable heaviness.

he would've been content to leave it at this, his fingers and mouth working you up to another peak. but you’d been the one asking for more. begging to feel all of him. so minho had kissed you and sunk his cock inside your wet hole, whispering soft praises into your eager mouth.

“so tired, and still so needy for my cock… don’t worry baby, i’ll take good care of you.”

you’re incapable of producing anything more than soft whimpers, little hums of contentment he drinks off your lips. he feels so good inside of you. familiar and comforting. “more, please, minho,” you beg and he holds you a little tighter until he feels you tense and clench around his cock again.

“i got you,” he murmurs. his slow strokes prolong your pleasure and you let yourself sink into the feeling.

“close your eyes, baby.”

his voice is more distant now, your eyes already fallen shut. “always so good for me. such a spoiled little thing, letting me fuck you to sleep.” you vaguely register his soft giggle as he nips at your collarbone.

minho fucks you like this for a while longer and watches you drift off under his expert touch. the trust you have in him makes his heart jump and his cock twitch. sleep’s already pulled you under when he jerks himself to completion over your resting figure, splatters of his cum decorating your stomach. he cleans you up before pulling you into his arms, nuzzling his face into your neck until his breathing slows down and harmonizes with the steady rise and fall of your chest.

#answered #😽 anon #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids hard hours #skz hard hours #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #stray kids headcanons #skz headcanons #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #lee know x reader #lee know smut #;skz blurbs

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mistydeyes · 8 months

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Thinking about the scenario where secret agent reader (so like CIA or MI6 and things like that) meets Gaz at a bar and scores. Drinks and talking and dancing, until Gaz suggests you go back to his place. Once there, before things get steamy, you excuse yourself to the bathroom to freshen up and get ready, but it's actually to stash away your hidden weapons you carry with yourself all the time. Only, when you figure out a good spot, you already find weapons there already.

And it clicks. How he gets dodgy when work comes up, how his dance moves vaguely resemble basic fighting regiments, etc... Seems theres more to the man than just his charm.

THIS WAS SUCH A GOOD IDEA! thank you so much for submitting, I had so much fun thinking abt this funny scenario. also fr peep the side eye because that's how he'd be looking at you during the reveal HAHA

the intertwining of secret lives

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

summary: When you meet a handsome 20-something in the club, you look through your rose colored glasses and ignore his eccentricities. However, when it comes time to hide a few of your necessities, you are absolutely blindsided.

pairing: Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x fem!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of weapons/violence

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

Two men by the door, performing a sweep across the dance floor in opposing schedules. They're standing in front of the primary exit with another guard standing at the emergency exit. The solo guard appears 5'10-5'11, weighing around 200lbs and the bruised knuckles means he's accustomed to rowdy customers and bar fights. Based on his wide stance, I could probably sweep at his leg befor- "Hey, want to take this back to mine?" Kyle's voice whispered in your ear, interrupting your covert surveillance. You blinked a few times as you took in his offering. It was difficult for you to shut off your years of CIA training and actually relax for once. Even now, you were slightly suspicious of this unemployed and handsome 20-something who was holding you by the waist at the bar. Yet since he locked eyes with you in the crowded room, it was clear the tension was palpable. Before he could ask again, you put a hand on his.

"Is it close or do you plan on carrying me, Kyle?" you winked, and even under the dim lights, you could see his cheeks slightly heat up. As he tried to stifle down the remainder of his drink, you decided to interrogate him a bit more before he took you to his. "Your silence is telling me, you haven't been to the gym in a while," you teased as you eyed his fit figure, "you look like you're more of a cardio man anyways." He shook his head at your not-so-subtle observations, having an endearing chuckle at the comment. "Well you did say my dancing looked like some silly American MMA thing," you giggled as he said that. It was just a sarcastic comment you made as you saw him methodically make his way across the dance floor, dodging the various drinks and drunken moves of the other patrons. "Anyways," he continued, downing his drink, "you might have just revealed my love for some combat training." With that, he gave you a wink and you melted in your seat. You found yourself endeared by his subtle jokes and shining smile. It made you push aside all the stress of work and effortlessly lie through your teeth about your hidden life.

After you closed your tab, Kyle held the door for you and ushered you politely out of the loud club. He walked beside you, hand in pockets and a relaxed smile on his face, as he navigated through the streets. You made small talk about some of the wild moments from the club and the fact you had both spent a fortune on drinks and shots. "Glad I saved up for this vacation," you lied, continuing with your story of an American tourist in London, "the 9-5 was all worth it for some strong drinks and a pretty face." In the cold night air, you could see his face become illuminated with the street light and the way his cheeks curved up in a hearty laugh. "You Americans and your toxic work culture," he chided as he bumped you with his elbow, "hopefully I can show you how to take it slow tonight." You blushed profusely at the comment and bit your lip as Kyle took a turn to a row of flats.

"This one's mine," he whispered and fumbled to find his keys. You stood there idly as you looked down at the street. It seemed quiet, nothing, particularly of notice. In fact, if you were looking for a safe house this would be ideal as it was perfectly tucked in between mundane families. "Home sweet home," he presented and you walked into the furnished flat. You peeked around and noticed the lack of personality within the home besides some paintings and postcards. A thin layer of dust lay amongst everything and the house smelled distinctly of a wall plug-in, probably bought this morning. He noticed your gaze and shrugged slightly. "I haven't had time to make this place nice," he sheepishly confessed, "been helping out with my family for the last few weeks." You nodded before you walked closer to him. "So what do you want to do now that I'm here?" you flirted before you closed the gap with a soft placement of your lips on his.

You felt a mix of happiness and uncertainty in your stomach. To the special agent inside you, it was the sign things were going a bit too well. But to the normal person, it was the presence of butterflies in your stomach. He tasted of a mix of alcohols and smelled vaguely of wood and santal. He wrapped his strong arms around you as you shuffled backward to the bedroom. You could feel him lower you softly onto the bed before you pulled him a bit closer with your arms around his neck. As he pulled up to look at you in this vulnerable state, you realized you were being poked by an object. Your mind went to a certain place for a moment until you realized it was actually the knife strapped to your thigh that was poking you. Your face dropped when you realized where things were going. You hastily pushed Kyle off of you before running off unceremoniously to the bathroom. "Sorry just have to pee! Those drinks are running through me," you joked through the door as you navigated to the master bathroom across the room.

"Take your time," you could hear him echo through the door as you put down the toilet seat. You looked around the small bathroom and tried to figure out where to hide the knife. More like knives, you thought when you realized you had another two strapped to your boot. "Oh fuck me," you whispered as you tried to look around. Within the bathroom, there was a small medicine cabinet with a mirror and a few drawers underneath the sink. You flushed the toilet hurriedly and ran the sink as you opened up the bottom drawer ever so carefully. When you opened it, you were not expecting to see another collection of tactical knives and a gun facing back at you. You tried to stifle your surprise as you gently picked up the firearm. You turned it to see it was inscribed with PROPERTY OF THE ROYAL ARMY etched into the side. You placed it down gently as underneath it lay an official-looking ID. You read the details quickly as you focused on the serious face of one Sergeant Kyle Garrick. You looked at the picture resembling the man in the next room, verifying all of the signature markings of an official government ID. "You alright in there?" you could hear his question as you quickly shut the drawer. You hastily turned off the tap before returning to the bedroom.

Kyle was lying casually on the bed and you could tell he had generously sprayed some vanilla room spray to cover up the mustiness of the unattended flat. Explains the dust and lack of furnishings, you thought as you stood leaning against the doorway. "Find anything interesting?" he flatly asked and you couldn't help but be caught off guard for the first time this evening. "What do you mean?" you bluffed but he stopped you with a flick of his hand. "The sink was running for a bit too long," he joked, "plus I know what those drawers sound like when they slam." You let out a dry laugh before sitting back next to him. "Well, I guess I should say I did find something," you said as you looked at his eyes, mixed with uncertainty, "you really should keep your weapons in a better location." As he tried to come up with a myriad of excuses, you put a hand on your chest. "As long as you don't mind if I put mine away, I won't question it, Sergeant," with that, Kyle tried to hide his surprise as you unsheathed your weapons from your person. "Do I want to know?" he joked hesitantly before you made your way on top of him. "You can ask in the morning, Garrick."

The next morning, you raced over to your hotel and barely made it to your 9 am meeting in the office suite. "Wonder who Laswell has me working with now," you mumbled as you nodded to the agents guarding the secured room. You should have seen the look on your face when you locked eyes with Kyle, who sat equally as shocked and secretly sporting a hickey underneath his uniform collar.

#kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #task force 141 x reader #task force 141 #cod x reader #call of duty modern warfare #cod mwii #modern warfare 2 #call of duty #mw2 imagine #madebyizzie #gaz imagine #kyle garrick imagine #mw2 #izzie is writing

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monstrous-munch · 11 months

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Ok I’m back with more thoughts…. I ended up writing way more than I thought I was going to haha also why is it every time I actually write some stuff for this blog is fae or fae adjacent ?? pfft

Tw: voyerism, dubcon ?? Like at the start ?? Idk just to be safe, vague mention of rejection by other humans, mentions of feeling isolated, yall get jiggy with a water elemental

Ok, but imagine living by yourself, out in the wilds, away from the village full of people you turned you away. Do you get lonely sometimes ? Sure, but it’s better than being around those who don’t want you.

Most often you’re fine with it. You enjoy your own company, and spend your days in a comfort of your own making. But sometimes that ache arises. The one that yearns so desperately for warmth. To be held by another. To no longer feel alone….. when this happens you take a trip to the hot springs.

Slipping into the warm water, you bask in the heat - letting it seep into your tense muscles and ease that aching in your chest. Faint ribbons of steam dance in the silver light as you relax fully. You’ve been coming here for many moons now, and each time you leave feeling content.

Hands creeping downward, you gently brush the skin of your chest, stomach, thighs….before dipping further. The water already feels so good, why not add to the satisfaction you feel before it’s time to leave ?

Eyes closed, you feel the the pleasure from your fingers, and the warmth of the water - the way it’s gentle volume seems to craddle you, move against your legs, gentle lap at your throat.

With a soft moan you lazily lift you eyelids, only to be startled by the form of a man waist deep at the other side of the pool. Well not really a man. Although it takes on a humanoid shape, the figure across from you is completely formed from the hot springs water. You’d heard of creatures like this. Ancient magic so strong it took on a life of its own; through water, air, earth or fire.

There world around the two of you totally stills, waiting for someone to break the silence. It’s the water elemental who speaks first. Well, he doesn’t really speak, the sound of a babbling stream emerges from him, though you understand as if he were speaking in your own tongue.

A garble of flustered apologies tumble out. He hadn’t meant to watch you… but he couldn’t really not, seeing as he was the hot springs. He should have revealed himself when you first came to the pool, but you were so beautiful, he felt unable to manifest as anything other than a puddle. And the way your tension eased as you lay within the water…the way you seemed so much happier when you left… he couldn’t stand to take that from you.

After hearing all his rambling, only one thing hummed in your mind.

“You’re the reason I don’t feel alone.”

Although the elemental had no need to breath, you swore you saw him gasp softly, eyes filled with yearning as the water around you gently swirled.

Standing, you made your way towards him; parting the spring slowly with your hips as you came to stand before the curious being. Lifting a hand, you gently pressed your fingers against him. Sliding them up his chest as the water tension kept you from sinking in. With only a moments hesitation, you tentatively pressed your lips to his, cradling the warmth of his cheek and raising to your toes to press closer. The crash of an ocean wave filled your ears, what could only be a groan from this watery creature, as he pulled you’re naked body further against him.

Soon sweet moans filled the night. The elemental held you close, his touch at times almost human - strong arms around you, his mouth pressed to you neck - but the sudden morphing of sensations, into the caress of water you had grown familiar with, reminded you what held you was much more than a man. A gentle current seemed to spread you legs wider as you were filled over and over. First by a tender caress, the tide against a river’s edge in the mauve hours of evening. Then, growing, swelling, till you felt like a rocky cliff meeting the crashing waves of a storm. Despite the rhythm of waves rushing forth, you still felt safe, the warm water holding you, soothing you as it always had - only now the whispers of steam carried with them sweet words of worship.

With a final cry you pleasure reached its peak. The waves around you lulled, encircling you in a soft embrace. The spring had always been something that helped ease your loneliness, now running your fingers over the water elementals tenderly smiling face, you felt a lightness in you chest like nothing you’d known before.

#im a little sad so we’re having fluff tonight haha #also if you don’t like all the water imagery too bad #pfft #as always if you see spelling mistakes….no you don’t #I can’t spell for shit guys so pls ignore it if you see that I goofed #monster fucker #monster lover #monster boyfriend #tetrophilia #monster boy #monster x human #monster x reader #monster x you #monster x gender neutral reader #tetro

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magicalbats · 6 months

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We Turn Not Older: Neuvillette

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 5402

Warnings: Afab!reader, some gendered language, blowjob, deep throating, breath play

A/N: Alright, so I'm technically late on this but I finished it and by god am I going to post it. I had this crazy idea that I was going to write a little something for most of the character birthdays going into 2024 (minus the obvious ones like Diona and Klee, duh) so the title will be used as the catchall for this "series". I'm going to elaborate further on this reader character in a different post but basically we're just replacing Lumine in the canon story and everything else stays the same haha

"We turn not older with years, but newer every day" - Emily Dickinson

⭐

Neuvillette turns from his perusal of the floor to ceiling bookcase at the sound of the door opening and then closing behind him. The contemplative look on his face morphs into one of friendly greeting when he sees it is you standing there rather than a Melusine or one of the many human secretaries constantly flitting about the Palais with files and documents to leave on his desk. He isn’t exactly the easiest person to get a good read on, but you think he looks almost relieved.

“Ah, so you were able to make it after all. It is a pleasure to see you again, Traveler.”

The honorable Iudex smiles at you, his expression so soft around the edges and inviting that you feel the regular tensions in your body relaxing in response. You were under the impression that not many could count themselves lucky enough to be on the receiving end of such a warm welcome and for good reason. Neuvillette took his obligations to Fontaine as much as its people quite seriously, so there was always a certain decorum with which he carried himself when interacting with others. It was a direct contrast to the Hydro Archon who seemed to operate on the far opposite end of the spectrum.

But you were not a citizen of this nation so no such expectations existed between you and him. He was free to speak and behave in whatever way he deemed fit when dealing with you, and he chose to be warm and welcoming because the two of you were friends now. You could call yourselves that, couldn’t you?

Truth be told you were banking on it today. Offering him a smile of your own, you start to walk across the office, the plush, no doubt expensive rug under your feet almost completely silencing the heels of your boots to make for a near silent approach on your part. You were glad Sedine hadn’t insisted on personally seeing you in but that was yet another perk of being on such good terms with the Chief Justice. It allowed for private audiences with him like this.

“It is your birthday, you know. I wouldn’t willingly miss the chance to celebrate it with you for the world.”

“You flatter me, of course, but I do hope you didn’t neglect anything important just to come see me?” He makes it a question, the curve of his mouth taking on a vaguely wry edge at the thought of what you may have decided to skip out on given your reputation in Teyvat. He was in a good mood then, if he could find humor in your many exploits. A promising sign if there ever was one.

Stepping around the corner of his spacious desk, you walk right up to him and come to a stop with mere feet to spare. The height difference forces you to crane your neck back to peer up at him and he likewise tips his chin down to pin you with that amused yet still perfectly congenial look. That he allows you to get this close without questioning it or backing up a step to keep the distance polite and respectful speaks volumes. Your heartbeat subtly begins to speed up. You wonder if he can sense it in some way.

“Luckily I didn’t have any pressing matters to take care of so I came as soon as I got your letter. How else was I supposed to give you your birthday present?”

“A present?” Neuvillette echoes you, and his expression finally slips to belie his confusion on the matter. He’d clearly noticed that you’d entered his office empty handed with nothing except the clothes on your back, not even Paimon in tow. The fact he hadn’t expected anything at all and didn’t give it a second thought until now only further vindicates your choice to come here like this. He deserved what you planned to give him, if he would accept it.

Oh, and how you hoped he would.

“But of course, Monsieur Neuvillette. That is the custom everywhere in Teyvat, isn’t it? Even Fontaine must recognize the tradition of giving presents to someone on their birthday?”

“Well, yes. That is true but …”

He doesn’t finish his thought. Allowing the words to trail off into a curious silence, he watches you bring your hands up without protest as you carefully place them across his chest. There are many layers of clothes between you and his skin, and you register a distant note of surprise when you realize how narrow he feels under your touch. All the different coats and shirts, and the wide shouldered justice robe had given the impression of someone much bigger. More filled out. He actually seems to be rather svelte under everything he’s wearing, a thought that is surprisingly intriguing in that moment. You wanted to find out how he looked when he was bare and vulnerable in the way only lovers are with one another. Perhaps you could convince him to undress himself for you, one layer at a time. Slowly.

That was for later though. For now, in this moment, you had an objective in mind, and you give him a coquettish bat of your eyelashes as you pointedly press in on him with your hands. “You’re free to decline the offer, Monsieur, but I wanted to gift you something that no one else can. You told me once before that you don’t allow yourself to foster close relationships with others, didn’t you? I wonder when was the last time you were able to really relax …”

You can see his thoughts working in the soft lilac of his horizontally slit eyes, so fascinating to look into even when you were well aware you’d presented him with a conundrum. A moral dilemma, if you would. As a dragon sovereign he had no right to involve himself with humans beyond surface level interactions, never anything intimate or more personal beyond a friendly greeting and the impartial judgments he passed on them in the court. But you weren’t a human — not a normal one, anyway. You were not of Teyvat and he knew that. That changed things, didn’t it? For you, only you, he could bend the rules.

Understanding finally clicks into place and you can’t help the grin that comes over you at the way Neuvillette’s body stiffens with the knowledge of what you were offering him. But rather than looking affronted like you’d half expected him to initially react, unsure of how he would perceive such an offer, his otherworldly gaze actually takes on a low simmering heat that sparks warmth in your own skin. The way he looks at you now is very close to being unreadable but his eyes do not lie. They very rarely do in your experience.

“My dearest Traveler,” He says it softly, quiet to conceal the hot undercurrent just below the surface. “Are you suggesting a gift of sexual favors in place of a more customary exchange?”

“Only if you want it, Monsieur. Like I said, you’re welcome to turn it down if you’re not interested.”

Neuvillette regards you for a long stretch with what you think must be cautious inner reflection. You don’t doubt that he was taking this time to consider every angle of your proposal and the possible implications that might come with it. That’s just the kind of person he is and it’s what makes him such an effective judge. You don’t mind it. Had even anticipated it on some level, so you wait patiently for him to reach his verdict with your hands still braced against his chest, as suggestive as they were anticipatory.

At length, he finally draws a single carefully tempered breath before speaking in the low, measured tones of someone who thinks they have been presented with an offer that is too good to be true and they don’t trust it. Not fully. Not yet. “I believe one would have to be a fool to decline such a generous offer coming from you, Traveler. It is an honor just to know you would be willing to have me in such a way and I give you my sincerest thanks for that.”

“I hear a ‘but’ in there.”

He visibly hesitates to do it but he still gives in to the urge. Lifting his hand, Neuvillette gently brushes the tips of long gloved fingers across your cheek before cupping it against the curve of his palm. Every movement, every gesture is so deliberate and heedful that you understand what he’s going to say long before he actually speaks it.

“Yes. You are human. Perhaps not in the usual sense and while I certainly acknowledge that you are not of this world, that doesn’t change the composition of your body. I’m afraid I don’t know what to do with human women, Mademoiselle.”

“I can teach you.” Is your ready answer, complete with a teasing smile for his benefit, and Neuvillette graces you with a faint chuckle in response.

“Then I suppose it would be rude of me not to accept. Do you bestow such generous gifts to many of the men you’ve met on your travels?”

“Only the ones I like.”

Grinning, you give his chest a more purposeful push. Picking up on your intentions, Neuvillette takes a slow step backward and then another. He lets you guide him towards his empty high backed chair, never taking the intensity of his gaze away from you for so much as a moment while you steer him where you want. It almost surprises you a little bit, how easily such a proudly composed man is willing to comply and let you take the lead like this but the warm glint in his eyes remains even when you trap him against the side of the desk. He’s clearly not only interested in what you plan to do and curious, but also amused by this turn of events. You may have had the control here, for the moment at least, but that was only because he was letting you have it. He could have flipped the tables on you all too quickly and both of you were well aware of it.

“Sit?” You flick your eyes in the direction of the chair for emphasis. A strange, heady sense of power comes over you when he shifts to the side and lowers himself into the seat with neither question nor protest. Just obedience. No matter how cursory it may have been, it was still very intoxicating to taste.

Giving him a chance to get settled, you watch as he starts to cross his long legs as if it was second nature for him to do so only to think better of it at the last moment. He situates himself with both feet planted squarely on the floor instead and you eagerly lower yourself to kneel before him, palming his knees so you can gently push them apart while you do it.

Neuvillette’s mouth automatically pops open as if this was the first thing he found any real complaint in. You softly shush him though, quietly assuring him that you’ll take care of everything as you push the front of his long robe up and out of the way to reveal the top of his high waisted pants. There are a series of buttons keeping the placquet of the trousers closed. He doesn’t try to hide his fretting over what you’re doing while you work to get them undone, a series of “Are you certain”s and “Please, Traveler,”s spilling from his mouth while elegantly gloved hands hover over you in uncertainty. Making a mental note to correct that later, you keep tugging until you at last get the final button freed so you can pull at his pants enough to reveal what’s inside.

The underwear is plain and clean white, yet even you can tell at just a glance that this particular garment is no less exquisite than the rest of his richly crafted attire. The cotton is some of the softest you’ve ever felt and the stitching is perfectly neat and precise. Not so much as a single thread out of place or loose to draw attention to such an obvious imperfection. You can’t help smiling to yourself as you carefully untie the dainty cord at the waistband.

“Are all of your clothes bought at the finest boutiques, Monsieur?” You tease, sending him a meaningful look from your spot on the floor.

Neuvillette frowns slightly, like he doesn’t quite understand what that has to do with anything. In truth, he probably doesn’t. “I am not particularly concerned with fashion, if that is what you are implying. As the Iudex of Fontaine I’m merely held to certain standards - -“

“Yes, yes, Monsieur. I understand your position.”

He huffs an almost silent exhale at your giggling response. Consideringly, he observes the way you trace fingertips over the front of his crisp white braies and nudge the fabric down one teasing inch at a time, slowly exposing a strip of soft flesh across his lower belly. “Really, Mademoiselle, is going about it in this manner truly necessary? It is not a gift for me to see you debase yourself like a lowly commoner.”

“Hmm. Are you quite familiar with the practices of commoners, Neuvillette?”

“Hardly. It is just …” He once again trails off, a distant spark alighting behind his eyes when you get the underwear edged down enough to reveal the startings of a fine patch of hair. Its silvery-white, almost transparent had it not stood out in contrast against the smooth color of his skin. Just like how the hair on his head is so pale it makes his face look warmer complexioned than it really is, this had the same effect. Your mouth starts to water at the thought of what would come next, and he gives a faint grunt as you give his bottoms a more insistent tug.

“But you are my esteemed guest, Traveler, and it seems inappropriate to make you kneel before me.” Neuvillette finally finishes his thought and not without effort.

“You have not made me do anything though. I chose to kneel by my own free will.” You shoot him a quick, cheeky grin. “Besides, I thought you would like seeing a so-called human on their knees for you, oh mighty Hydro Dragon.”

He sucks in a quick breath. You can tell he’s going to argue it, correct it, contest the allegation you’ve lobbied against him but you don’t give him the chance. With one final pull, his cock springs free. A soft hiss escapes Neuvillette’s suddenly tight mouth as it hits the air, still mostly flaccid but quickly stirring to life even as it smacks against the bare strip of flesh along his pelvis. You’re admittedly surprised and a bit relieved to see that it is a by all accounts normal looking organ of the human persuasion. You hadn’t been entirely sure what to expect from the reincarnation of a Soverign but he looks every bit as normal as you do. Funny thing, that.

“Oh, Monsieur,” You rove your attention up, catching his eye and holding it as you lean over his lap. Your lips part and you swipe a slow lick of your tongue from the base up to the head. It twitches under the sensation, bobbing upward as if to follow you but you pull away too fast for it to find your mouth again. He looses a terse breath that sounds as appreciative of the gesture as it is bemused at the audacity to tease him like that. “Such a lovely cock for a lovely man. Are you sure you don’t enjoy seeing me on my knees?”

His length eagerly swells as if in response. It grows in size and shape right before your eyes, stiffening and starting to stand at attention just for you. Evidently he was very much a grower.

“I said it did not seem appropriate, mon petit voyageur,” Neuvilette murmurs, finally bringing one hand close to cup the side of your face again. Tenderly, his thumb brushes over the swell of your cheek while he looks into your eyes with a certain masculine weight that makes your loins curl into a knot. “I said nothing about not enjoying it.”

“My mistake.” You whisper back as you reach out to wrap your fingers around his cock.

Keeping your hold loose, you gently massage it up and then down, giving the base an encouraging squeeze before dragging your hand towards the glans again. The motion makes his foreskin bunch and gather over the head, and when you bring your hand down next you’re rewarded with a soft, sticky click. He was becoming excited rather quickly, wasn’t he? You assumed that meant your earlier assumption had been correct. He must rarely if ever allow himself to indulge in the urges of his human body like this. Not with another person, at least.

You feel decidedly emboldened as you take a moment to nuzzle into his hand. It was reassuring to know that he did not fear touching you in reciprocation and you intended to enforce the behavior. Gently, at first, then more forcefully if need be.

“Does this mean I have your permission to proceed, Monsieur Neuvillette?”

The breath he draws is stilted. Short. “I would certainly be appreciative of that.”

Bringing your attention back around with a smile, you regard his cock again. It’s a good, healthy size — sturdy in your hand and incredibly soft to the touch despite how firm it’s gotten just below the surface of all that delicate skin. You lean in on the next downward tug of your fingers, when the foreskin has been pulled back enough to expose the ruddy pink head. Flicking your tongue over the dainty slit, you issue a low moan at the shock of salty precum that floods your tastebuds. It’s not exactly bitter but it wasn’t sweet either. Just clean and faintly musky with a distant note of male pheromones to taste. It made sense that he would be as close to a neutral flavor as the human body was likely capable of though, given how much he enjoyed drinking water. It was delicious.

You let out a quiet sigh into the still air. Giving in to the instinctive urge, you wrap your lips around the head. He tenses underneath you at the sensation of your mouth fully on him, suckling at the sensitive glans, and his hand gives a faint jolt against your cheek. Reaching further back, Neuvillette gingerly cradles the back of your head with a hushed groan but doesn’t do anything beyond that.

A groan that you belatedly realize is your name.

Not the customary ‘Traveler’ you got everywhere in Teyvat nor the altering variation of either ‘Mademoiselle’ or ‘mon petit’ that he occasionally used with you in private. Your real name.

It wasn’t exactly uncommon for the friends you’d made throughout your travels to call you that but Neuvillette did it so rarely, so infrequently that it strikes something delicate and soft inside of you. He was perfectly polite and cordial, and that often meant keeping those around him at a socially acceptable distance. Close, but not so close as to imply intimacy. Far enough at arms length to avoid misunderstandings but not so far as to come off rude. It was a razor fine line he usually walked and aside from the Melusine’s, Furina seemed to be the only exception.

And now you too, or so it appeared. At least for right now.

Softly groaning, you lean further over his lap — lean further into your work and take him deeper into your mouth. The stretch is exquisite. It’s hard not to imagine the same cock stretching other parts of your body open in similar fashion, your cunt fluttering in unmistakable excitement as you swallow him down to the halfway point of his shaft. Neuvillette’s fingers lightly spasm against your hair, stiff with the desire to close his fist around the strands and perhaps tug or use them as leverage to push, but he fights it. You’re acutely aware of this fact even while you languidly lap at the underside of his length with your tongue. Still so polite even when you had him pulled in almost to your throat and there was another inch or two waiting just beyond the edge of your lips. You couldn’t abide by him holding himself in check like this when it was supposed to be his birthday present for him to enjoy. He should have been enjoying it to the fullest.

So you reach back with your unoccupied hand, the one not currently holding him around the base, and blindly latch onto his stiff knuckles. Giving him a quick, reassuring squeeze, you press his palm firmly into the back of your head. He lets out a low, seething hiss in response, still valiantly fighting it for another moment longer despite the encouragement. The gentlemanly facade finally cracks though and a small portion of the Dragon Sovereign seems to peak out. When he finally pushes down on your head, it’s surprisingly forceful and demanding. The pressure makes you take another inch or so, and you moan a thick sound around the cock stuffed in your mouth. Now he was really tickling your tonsils and the sensation makes your salivary glands kick into overtime to produce a copious amount of drool that slowly starts to bubble out past your lips. You were going to make a mess at this rate.

“Mon petit,” Neuvillette whispers the pet name like an oath. “I am afraid that — nnghn. I seem to be ill equipped for this particular activity. As shameful as it is to admit … I did not expect it to feel this good.”

Noising an incomprehensible sound, a sentiment meant to put his concerns at ease, you nudge your face down a little closer to his lap and take another half inch. His narrow hips buck slightly at the sensation of slipping into your throat but now he’s struggling just to maintain his composure instead of thrusting up like he wants to. Neuvillette no longer has the luxury or the presence of mind to be concerned about his manners, and his fingers finally close around your hair at the root. The dull yank on your scalp makes your pussy clench tight in response. You couldn’t wait to have him. You hoped he would have you after this. If he was as pent up as you suspected, then it probably wasn’t a stretch to think he would.

Gathering your own willpower, you slowly start to pull back off his cock. Choking yourself on it sounded like a great idea at the moment but you wanted to give him a short reprieve, a break to get a hold of himself. So you ignore the spit that dribbles down his length to coat your fingers where you’re squeezing it tight in an attempt to stave off his release. Neuvillette manages to surprise you slightly when he issues a low, barely audible growl at the loss of your mouth but you ignore that too. You finally make it to the glans a heartbeat later and you take the chance to swirl your tongue around the pink head. A quick glance through the fall of your lashes shows you his expression pinched in obvious pleasure and something darker. Something far more primal than simple arousal. You weren’t sure how far you could push him before the long dormant draconian instincts started to take over but you were curious and bullheaded enough to try it.

You finally sit back, taking your mouth off his cock completely. The pretty face of the polite Iudex momentarily scrunches up in a tense, heady groan of frustration that leaves tiny little wrinkles at the corners of his eyes when he opens them to peer down at you. The intensity in those slit irises, the pupils blown wide and dark, inspires a nervous shudder down the length of your spine. You had no idea he could look at someone like that. Like so much meat. Prey that was his for the taking if only he would reach out with a sharp taloned claw and slice into laughably soft flesh to spill whatever was inside.

Your pussy achingly throbs, though you aren’t entirely sure if it’s from sexual excitement or mortal fear. Perhaps it was both.

“Are you enjoying yourself, Monsieur Neuvillette?” You speak softly, as if to avoid setting off the predator before you, but the only response you get is a single, hissed word.

“Yes.”

Then he’s pushing on your head just as demandingly as the first time, maybe even more so. He forces your face to his lap. Gives you no choice but to open your mouth wide and accept his cock again. Down, inch by inch, you take him straight to the edge of your throat and then you take him inside. Your gag reflex puts up cursory resistance for all of a single second and then he’s wedged as far down your gullet as he can go. You noise a pitifully muffled sound when your nose presses into his pelvis hard enough to bring tears to your eyes, the soft, nearly translucent hair tickling your skin. The muscles in your throat work around the intrusion as if to expel the blockage but it does very little in the way of good when he was already this deep. All you can do is heave on his cock and writhe there on the floor, your shoulders shuddering with each dry gag that assaults your body in violent waves.

And you couldn’t remember the last time you’d been so painfully aroused.

Groaning in deeply felt pleasure, Neuvillette gingerly leans back into his chair while keeping his hand pressed firm against the back of your head to hold you in place. You blink through the tears and peer up at him, committing every detail of his stricken face, his posture, his breathy voice as it tumbles out of him to memory even as you reach under your travel dress for what’s between your legs. Pressing your fingers into the crotch of your bloomers, you start to rub hasty circles into yourself while you watch him stiffly shake towards his own release. Never mind the fact you couldn’t breathe like this. It was just going to make for an even more powerful orgasm than what you were already anticipating.

“Your throat is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before,” He grits out through tightly clenched teeth, his brows knitted so deeply that a small wrinkle had formed between them. “Du ciel à la terre, I can’t hold out any longer, mon petit, I am going to — nnghnnn!”

Neuvillette cums with a sharp, rumbling grunt. The sound seems to vibrate through his shuddering frame and bleed into you, your eyes practically rolling to the back of your head when his cock gives one, pulsing throb before shooting thick ropes down your gullet. You choke at the sensation even as your throat desperately tries to get it all down before you can asphyxiate. It doesn’t feel like such a far off possibility at this point as you start to grow faint and dizzy from a lack of oxygen. But you just keep rubbing your cunt and swallowing, spurt after spurt of thick, creamy discharge until he finally hisses one final noise of pleasure before going lax underneath you.

Without his hand holding you in place any longer, you quickly rear back and come up off his cock with a highly undignified, ugly wretching sound. You suck in a hungry mouthful of air even as sheets of drool and bubbling spit leak from your numb lips. You’re not half as concerned about that as you are with your quickly fleeting orgasm though. Like low tide, it seems to tauntingly lap at the edges of the shore line even as it quietly recedes out into the void of endless ocean without a second thought. You could almost sob at the loss as you rub yourself faster, harder. Even reaching up with your free hand to paw at your own breast through the thin material of your dress doesn’t bring it back. And you’d been so close too.

“And what is this, Traveler?”

Abruptly realizing that Neuvillette has recovered from his own orgasm and has been watching you for the last moment or so, you tip your head back to look at him. That glimpse of the dragon is gone and in its place is the same respectable Iudex you were usually accustomed to dealing with. The sole exception in his demeanor was the weight with which his gaze has settled upon you. There was a hunger there. An innate sense of superior dominance that had not been present when last he’d looked at you before this.

It occurs to you then that you have perhaps awoken the beast in him with all your poking and prodding in more ways than one. There’s something in the way he looks at you down the length of his nose that sets your blood to boiling. You wanted — no, needed him to subjugate you to his will. That was what was missing. That was why your orgasm had fled at the first sign of reprieve from his iron will.

Whimpering softly at your own helplessness, you lean back to press one hand against the floor and reach up with the other to tug one side of your dress down. He attentively watches your breast spill out into the open, drawing a subtle breath at the sight of you like this. So desperate. So needy and vulnerable. He doesn’t act on it though and you bite your lip to stop yourself from begging for it as you gather the front of your dress. You wonder if your sticky cunt had bled through the soft cotton of your bloomers yet as you present them to him without an ounce of shame to show for it.

A small yet no less pleased smile plays across Neuvilette’s mouth. Rather primly, properly, he tugs the fabric of his justice robe to cover his lap and hide his softening cock from your voracious sights. The fact he doesn’t put it away, only covers it, makes your blood pound somehow even harder. It feels like you’ve got a second heartbeat in your cunt as he carefully shifts in his seat and brings the toe of an expensive shoe close to your pussy.

“Is this how one handles human women, Mademoiselle?” He sounds vaguely amused, as if he already knew the answer. Like that one single exchange had enlightened him to a whole litany of sexual knowledge that he hadn’t been fully aware of before.

You weren’t sure if it was just a result of his undeniable intelligence and he’d merely pieced everything together in record time or if it could really be a shared understanding with his past life. Did the Dragon Sovereign’s mate the same way people do? You didn’t really care about any of that right now.

There’s only one thing on your mind and, at your nod, Neuvillette brings his foot closer. Slips it between your legs. He thoughtfully hums, as if considering his next move, and then presses up to flatten the top of his shoe along the pudge of your cunt. Even with the thin layer of your bloomers in the way it damn near makes you see double and you gasp. Your reaction seems to please him a great deal. Chuckling to himself, the Chief Justice of Fontaine slowly works his limb back and forth, up and down, to tease your slit with pressure that is simultaneously too much and yet not near enough to make you cum. You felt like you were going to be sick.

“I must admit that this is quite interesting, Traveler.” He tells you softly, almost secretively. “You’ve certainly piqued my interest, at least. I had no idea touching you like this would make you look at me with such a … needy expression on your face. I wonder what will happen if I keep going. You’ll teach me this too won’t you, mon petit?”

Of course you would. Anything for the birthday boy.

⭐

#genshin impact #neuvillette #neuvillete x reader #self insert bullshit

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jobean12-blog · 1 year

Text

Lesson Learned

Pairing: Dbf!Bucky x reader

Word Count: 3,611

Summary: You’re in grad school and it’s been a rough semester but thankfully your father knows just who can help you get back on track and pass your organic chemistry class.

Author’s Note: Here’s my first crack at DBF!Bucky. Ater all these award ceremonies I just had to do it haha. It moves pretty quickly because well, he’s fucking hot and we want him! The reader is around 22-23 and Bucky would be about 20 years older ish. Everyone is consenting and of age. Thank you so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by my sweet Daisy @firefly-graphics thank you love!

Warnings: flirting, teasing, tension, light dirty talk, curses, fingering, oral (f rec), smut (18+ ONLY PLEASE!!!)

“Come on Dad! I don’t see the need for this! I’ll make sure I get myself together for next semester and do better.”

Your Dad gives you a pointed look with his heavy sigh. “Sweetheart. You’re paying far too much money to not be getting the grades you’re capable of. Please, just give it a try. For me.”

You stare unblinking while you try to find the willpower to keep up the fight but it crumbles quickly at his pleading eyes and you give in with a soft, “fine.”

“Great, I’ll set something up for next week.”

“Who is it anyway?” you ask.

“Someone you already know so you’ll be comfortable and you two can just get right down to studying.”

“But who?”

“You’ll see,” he answers with a bright smile. “Now, I’m off to work. Enjoy your day. I’ll see you for dinner.”

Your father’s vague words pique your curiosity and you spend the rest of the morning mentally filing through a list of possible people he could know that would be able to tutor you in organic chemistry.

When no one comes to mind you let it go for the time being and focus on enjoying the rest of your freedom before studying takes over your life.

“How does Friday night sound?” your Dad asks as you help him clean up from dinner.

“FRIDAY NIGHT? DAD!”

“Do you have plans?” he asks with a raised brow.

“Well…no. Not yet. But I might get some,” you start to protest.

He tries to suppress his smile but fails and you huff in frustration.

“Fine, but don’t make that the usual day each week. Why can’t we do like Wednesday?”

“I have him coming two days a week and we can add more if you need it.”

“Ugh this is just getting better and better. And why can’t you let me handle scheduling. I’m an adult, I’m capable.”

“You most certainly are sweetheart and once you have your first session I’ll let you handle it from then on out. Ok?”

“Ok,” you tell him. “He better be an amazing tutor.”

“He’s the best,” your Dad assures you.

Friday night rolls around quickly and you’re surprisingly nervous, your father’s secrecy having caused your anxiety to grow with each day.

You’re in your room getting ready when you hear the bell and with one last glance in the mirror you quietly tip toe down the steps to listen and take a look at your new tutor.

When your father walks into the living room your eyes go wide with surprise.

He’s tall, dressed in well fitted jeans that accent his thick thighs and a soft sweater that pulls tightly across his broad chest. His dark hair is long enough to tuck behind his ears and his full beard is peppered with patches of gray.

“Fuck,” you mutter quietly, distracted by how handsome he is.

Startling yet familiar blue eyes settle on you and you’re suddenly flooded with a feeling of recognition.

“Ah! There you are sweetheart. Come say hello! You must remember James.”

You take a tentative step down, holding onto the railing with sweaty palms.

“It’s been a while,” James murmurs, never taking his eyes off you.

Your father starts peppering James with questions and you the opportunity to study him more closely. You definitely remember him but you don’t remember him looking like this.

James holds out his hand as you approach and you slowly reach out yours to greet him. With a firm shake he smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling with the action.

“Alright, I have that dinner to get to,” your dad starts, slipping between you and James to grab his jacket. “I’ll let you two get to work. I shouldn’t be back too late.”

You barely remember saying goodbye to your father as you shuffle into the dinning room and start to prepare your laptop and books. James says goodbye to your father and then joins you.

“You’re all grown up,” James says when he walks in.

His eyes study your face before they slowly sweep down your body with obvious appreciation. When he brings his gaze back to yours his tongue darts out to wet his lips and you follow the motion, squirming on the spot.

His hands are in the pockets of his jeans and the fabric is pulled taut across his crotch. You can’t stop your eyes from dropping between his legs. You don’t reply to his statement and instead swallow hard and gather yourself.

“Organic chem is hard and I need to pretty much ace this upcoming semester if I want to save my grade.”

He chuckles and steps closer to you.

“So that’s it. We’re just going to get right down to business,” he asks.

You keep your head down and your eyes on your books.

“Well, you’re here to help me study right?”

“Sure doll. I’m here for whatever you want. But it wouldn’t hurt to catch up first.”

You rest your elbows on the table and force yourself to look at him.

“What do you want to know, James?” you ask, trying to hide your nervousness with some sass.

“First of all, call me Bucky. Your father and I have been friends for half our lives and I’ve known you for most of yours. No need for formalities.”

You nod in agreement and he continues.

“How is grad school? Are you enjoying yourself or spending all your time buried under books?”

You let out a long exhale and slump back in the chair.

“It’s a lot of work but I do enjoy it and I want to do well.”

“So, what happened this last semester,” he asks.

“I lost focus,” is the only answer you give him.

“Boyfriend?” he asks with a smirk.

You cross your arms over your chest and he does nothing to hide the ways his eyes slowly wander down your face and settle on your breasts.

“We broke up,” you say flatly before narrowing your eyes his way.

“That’s too bad,” Bucky sympathizes, but you get a hint of sarcasm hidden there.

You wave him off and push the book toward him.

“I’m sure with your help I’ll get right back on track.”

“When I’m done with you doll, you’ll be exactly where I want you.”

You try to ignore the heat in his words and focus on making easy conversation.

“What about you?” you quickly ask, hoping to change the subject. “How come you know so much about organic chemistry?”

He sits back with a smile. “I’m a professor. I was doing the chemical engineering thing for a while but needed a change of pace so I moved back here and I’ve been teaching at the state college for about a year now.”

“That’s great,” you tell him.

“I enjoy it,” he says with a shrug.

He leans closer and you get a better look at his face, the patches of gray in his beard even more prominent under the lighting in the room and your mouth goes dry. His long fingers reach across the table and your eyes follow the movement, every nerve in your body alive with anticipation.

With a tug he pulls the book from your grip, laughing when you startle slightly.

“Do you want a drink?” you ask, standing suddenly and disappearing into the kitchen.

You don’t wait for his answer and open the cabinet, reaching up to grab a glass. Your fingers slip over the smooth surface and you shift forward to get a better grip only to feel the press of something hard against your back.

“Need some help?” Bucky whispers along your ear.

Your breath catches in your throat and you will your body not to react but you can’t stop the involuntary shiver that runs down your spine. At the press of his body so close your mind goes blank and you can only register the feel of him, the way his chest brushes your back with every breath he takes and how his scent overwhelms you.

He curls his fingers around the glass and plucks it from the shelf, holding it up for you. You take it from him but he doesn’t move away.

“Need anything else?” he asks, resting both palms along the counter and caging you in.

You clutch the glass to your chest and turn in his arms.

“Water,” you breathe out, slipping away from him to the sink.

He keeps his distance the rest of the time you’re together but his eyes linger and shine with an intensity that you can’t deny. Despite the obvious tension hanging between you, he’s an excellent tutor and you learn more in one session that you have the entire semester.

“So, I’ll see you next week?” he asks as you gather your things. “Friday again? Or are you going to be busy with a hot date?”

He smiles playfully and you return the gesture.

“No, probably not but I was hoping we could meet more than once a week…”

He takes a step closer to you, his eyes darkening and dropping to your mouth when you suck your bottom lip between your teeth.

“That is…if you’re available?” you continue, your voice unsure.

“For you doll, I’m always available. How does Tuesday sound?”

“Great,” you say with a squeak.

“You did so well today,” he says quietly, pressing his thumb under your chin to lift your gaze. “And I’m sure you’re going to continue to impress me.”

The combination of his words and the feel of his fingers on your skin almost makes a whimper escape your parted lips.

You manage a nod of agreement before you lean into his touch. His fingers spread over your cheek and he brushes his thumb across your lips, his eyes closing as he grits his teeth.

“Did your father….?”

He never finishes his question because you hear the lock of the front door click and your father calls to you as he opens it.

Bucky takes a step back and let’s out a deep breath.

“Hey!” your father chimes. “How did it go?”

You’re rummaging through your closet when you hear a knock on your bedroom door.

“COME IN!” you shout from half inside the closet.

“Hey sweetheart,” your father says. “What are you doing?”

“Looking for my skirt,” you grunt with the exertion of shifting clothes. “I know it’s in here somewhere. Ugh, I can’t believe I still have all this shit from High School.”

“Well don’t take too long, James is already here.”

“He is,” you say, suddenly feeling breathless. “But he’s early.”

“Only a few minutes.”

“Shit,” you hiss. “Ok, be down in five.”

Your effort to remain unperturbed by the mere mention of Bucky’s name, let alone his presence, flies out the door with your father and you silently curse yourself.

Once you find your skirt and get dressed you push your shoulders back with determination, resolute in the hope of taking control of the situation.

You flounce down the stairs to find Bucky sitting on the couch while your father is standing with his back to you both and on the phone. Bucky’s legs are spread wide and one hand rests casually on his thigh and the other is gripping the back of the couch.

At your approach his eyes immediately find you, that familiar heated desire filling them.

You walk the rest of the way down and give him a wave.

He sits forward and places his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands together and staring.

You stop only a few inches away from him with an expectant look.

“Are you ready to study?” you ask cheerily.

The only response you get is a low growl before he stands and wraps his arm around your waist. He tugs you into his chest and dips his head to your ear.

“If this is some kind of game you’re playing doll, you’re not going to win.”

Your palms meet the muscles of his toned stomach, easy to feel under the thin material of his soft shirt, and you tilt your head back to look him in the eyes.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about Bucky.”

Before your father can see you in his arms you move away and sashay into the dining room.

“Alright. Sorry about that phone call. I’m going to my office to do some work, I’ll see you before you leave James.”

Your father excuses himself and walks down the hallway, shutting his office door.

As you’re organizing your things your feel Bucky’s presence at your back, the warmth of his body like a caress. He traps you against the table and presses his arousal along your ass.

“Did you wear this just for me?” he asks as he runs his nose along your throat.

“My father is home,” you moan as you lean into him.

“I know that doll face but I’m not the one who’s walking around looking like they wanna get fucked.”

“I guess you’ll just have to wait then.”

You wiggle away from him and lean down to grab something from your bag, putting your panties on display.

Without a warning he grabs your arm and spins you around, taking two long strides and pressing you into the wall.

“So last week was just an act? Hmm? What happened to all that shy sweetness?”

“It’s still there,” you purr with a bat of your lashes. “I told you you’ll have to wait.”

“Or…” he growls. “I could just tear those pretty little panties right off and stuff you full of my cock right now.”

The sound of footsteps widen both your eyes and Bucky pushes off the wall and falls into the chair at the table. You quickly adjust your skirt and smooth a hand down your shirt before grabbing your book.

“Hope I’m not disturbing you two,” your father says as he walks by. “Just need something to drink.”

“We’re fine Dad,” you answer with a sweet smile. “Working hard.”

Bucky just nods but keeps his face in the book.

Your father gives you one last smile before shuffling back down the hall.

“Shall we,” you chirp and pop open your laptop.

Even with your new found feelings of confidence it’s hard to deny how much you want Bucky to do exactly what he said he could do and the whole study session you find your mind wandering to thoughts of it.

“Where are you right now doll?” he asks with a knowing smirk.

You clear your throat and let out a little huff.

“Right here Bucky.”

He closes the textbook with a snap and stares at you so intensely you squirm in the chair.

“You’re full of shit,” he murmurs.

Before you can protest your father walks back into the kitchen to refill his glass.

“Hey Dad! I’m going to call it an early night and do some reading before bed,” you say, standing and starting to clean up.

“Alright sweetheart. Can you see James out for me? I have one more call to make and then I think I’ll do the same!”

“Sure,” you answer and give your father a kiss on the cheek.

The two friends bid each other farewell and you wait until you hear the click of the office door.

“Friday?” you ask Bucky as he shrugs on his jacket.

“I’ll be here,” he grits out.

You smile demurely and head for the door but you’re once again pulled back and into his arms.

“I’m going to give what you’re so desperately begging for doll but I won’t do it until I have you all to myself. I want to hear you screaming my name while I take you apart.”

His lips ghost over yours, the light brush sending goosebumps dancing across your skin and making your eyelashes kiss your cheeks.

“I just want to pass my class next semester,” you manage to say, sass and all.

“Mm sure you do doll face,” he murmurs before pressing a kiss just below your ear. “See you Friday.”

When the door shuts you lean against it, squeezing your thighs together and letting out a frustrated moan.

“Fuck me.”

Friday arrives and you’re standing in front of your bed, staring at the clothes that lay over it. You can’t decide what to wear but you want it to be dangerously enticing because you can’t get enough of this little game you and Bucky are playing.

Your father will be home again tonight so you know it will be a session full of teasing that will leave you needing your vibrator later.

You finally decide on a cute pair of comfy shorts and off the shoulder top and some knee-high socks. It’s cozy but sexy.

When you settle in the dining room your father is mulling about the kitchen and muttering to himself.

“Dad?” you ask, peeking inside. “What’s wrong?”

“I have to go to the office. Our biggest client in Australia is having issues with their e-mail and I can’t do what I need to do from here but I haven’t had dinner yet and I’m starving.”

Your heart starts to race at the thought of being alone with Bucky and your eyes grow wide.

Your fathers eyebrows draw together in concern. “Don’t worry sweetheart. I can just order something and pick it up on the way there. Hopefully I won’t be there all night.”

“Right,” you say quietly, glad he thought your expression was due to his dilemma. “Good luck.”

“Thanks and tell James I’m sorry I missed him.”

You nod with an audible swallow and pretend to busy yourself with getting ready to study.

Just as your father walks out you hear him greet someone and before you have a chance to catch your breath, Bucky is standing in the doorway.

He gives you a once over, his eyes lingering on every inch of your exposed skin before they stop on your face and he licks his lips.

“Your father just told me he has to go into the office…guess it’s just you and me tonight.”

You take a few steps backward, bracing yourself against one of the chairs.

“He might be back soon,” you whisper, your voice quivering.

“What’s the matter doll? Are you afraid I’m going to do what I promised?”

“I’m not afraid of anything.”

“No. You’re not,” he simpers as he crowds your space and settles his hands on your hips. “And I bet if I get my fingers between those gorgeous legs you’d be soaked right now.”

“Please,” you whimper, trembling when his hands slip under your shirt and smooth along your skin.

He grazes them just under your breasts, a soft tease, before he slides them down and traces the waistband of your shorts.

“The last two weeks have been torture. From the moment I saw you I couldn’t wait to get my hands on you.”

“What are you waiting for?” you ask with pant.

His eyes sparkle with predatory intent as he dips his fingers into your shorts and brushes one over the wet patch of your panties, the material sticking to your skin.

He grits his teeth with a sharp hiss and pushes the fabric to the side. His fingertip is just a ghost of a touch and you rock your hips into his hand, needing more.

He brings his face closer to yours, his soft beard brushing along your cheek as his warm breath caresses your lips.

Your eyes start to close and you tilt your head, hovering so close you can almost taste him.

“Is all this for me?” he asks as his finger easily slides through your folds. “Was this how you went to bed every night after we studied?”

“Yes,” you answer, unable to say more.

You grab onto his shoulders and dig your nails into his sweater.

“Did you fuck yourself with those pretty little fingers wishing they were mine?”

“Bucky,” you whine.

“Answer me,” he growls.

“Yes!”

He slowly circles your clit, using just enough pressure to make you arch into him. One of his thick fingers teases your entrance and you let out a lewd moan.

“Did it feel as good as this?” he asks when he buries his finger inside you.

“Fuck,” you cry out. “No, nothing feels this good.”

He trails wet kisses down your neck, stopping at your pulse point to lick and suck a dark mark on your skin.

“Please. I need more,” you beg.

When a second finger joins the first you mewl at the stretch, rocking into his hand.

Your body aches, squeezing his fingers as he grazes his lips across yours with a taunting kiss.

You bite his lower lip, drawing another growl from him until he’s devouring and tasting every inch of your mouth. Your fingers scrape along the nape of his neck and dive into his hair.

With his free hand he grabs under your thigh, lifting your leg and opening you up wider, his fingers pushing deeper.

He pulls away to watch you, his eyes like fire before he removes his fingers and falls to his knees. Your shorts meet the floor before he slowly drags your panties down your legs, savoring every second.

You’re desperate for more of his touch, his fingers, his mouth, and as if he senses it he smiles as he looks up from between your legs.

“Do you like seeing me on my knees doll?”

He moves his face closer with a soft inhale, his beard brushing along the delicate skin of your inner thigh before he dips his tongue into you with a satisfied hum.

“You taste like you do.”

@book-dragon-13 @christywantspizza @dreamlessinparis @hiddles-rose @goldylions @jhangelface0523 @lookiamtrying @loki-laufeyson-1054 @flordeamatista @nano--raptor @rebel-stardust @randomfandompenguin @lokisasgardianvampirequeen @justile @seitmai @peaches1958

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #dbf!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #dbf!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes au #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan

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little-peril-stories · 1 month

Text

Blood Garnet - WIP Intro

it's a working title leave me alone

Aka: WIP Wednesday / Vaguely Summarized WIP / I'm Desperately Trying to Get This Dumb Story Out of My System

DISCLAIMER: this stupid story is a silly, self-indulgent mess that would require a lot of hard work to make it, um, fit for human consumption. It was my little brain break between finishing The Queen of Lies and restarting The Court of Rogues. It may not ever get finished. 🤷‍♀️ So, uh, you're forewarned. 😇

OPEN TAG for WIP Wednesday, Vaguely Summarized Plot, or both 😊- there's a lot of nonsense in here so I feel bad subjecting even more people to it 😂

Let's use this cheeky lil post for some recent WIP Wednesday tags: Thank you @kaylinalexanderbooks and @sleepywriter00 for the tags! Posts here and here (same post chain).

Rules: Pick a WIP. Post something about it. On a Wednesday. Or whenever! It can be literally anything! 😊 (It does NOT need to be extra as this😅.)

Mood Board

don't anyone say anything about how there isn't a single gemstone on this mood board

What's It About?

Take a drink every time you see an element Kate's used before in other stories. 😅

Evyn, a schoolteacher, impulsively embarks on a journey in an effort to escape the chokehold of her small village, overbearing uncle, and inevitable (and unwanted) fate as someone’s happy little wife. It’s risky, of course: wild animals roam the woods, and she still doesn’t know the source of the mysterious lights that gleam through the darkness at night. However, she gets more than she bargained for—the forest is not what it seems, nor are those mystical yellow lights.

The Fae, creatures of legend, are real.

And they’re coming for her.

Vaguely Summarized Plot

Also using up another tag here! Thank you @mysticstarlightduck for this one! Posts here and here. The tag is kind of perfect for this seeing as I don't know much of the plot myself, so I have no choice but to be vague. :)

Rules: Summarize your WIP in 15 2-5 word bullet points (as if you were trying to summarize it in 15 seconds). (I didn't stick to the limit at all.)

✨ “So the forest's been kind of glowing lately? And no one but me seems to have noticed? Ok. Coolcoolcool.”

✨ “Get married? Me? Never!” Evyn Edition: Simply Not Interested But I Must Be Lying Because All Women Want to Get Married, Amirite?

✨ “Get married? Me? Never!” Jonathan Edition: Very Not Straight But Try Telling That To My Religious Zealot of a Father

✨ Jealous twin will NOT let his sister win control of their clan like she wins everything else, damn it (footnote 1)

✨ Emo loner who can’t go home (on pain of death) just wants these weird dreams about some random-ass human to please STOP (footnote 2)

✨ “I’m going to pursue independence! In another town! On a time crunch! By walking through the woods! At night! I’m a schoolteacher with no survival experience! This Is A Good Idea!”

✨ Grumpy grandma re: pesky human: What is her deal?

✨ “Hello yes hi I’m the emo loner. I’m unrealistically attractive. I saved you for reasons I won’t explain. But also I don’t talk to humans. Or Fae, really. Or. Like. Anyone. Not often anyway. What’s talking again?”

✨ “So, like, you're kind of hot … but you’re, uh, my enemy?? But I haven't figured that out yet?? And also, do we, like, have weird sexual tension, haha, or is it just me? Hahahaha! … But seriously, do we?”

✨ "Hey I know you have breathing issues or whatever, so you don’t like dusty or dirty or humid places, but … wanna take a shortcut through this super duper cool underground cave system?”

✨ “Haha, what? No?! There’s no reason I’m avoiding this area of the forest! Nope! No reason at all!”

✨ YOU get a betrayal! And YOU get a betrayal! And YOU get a—

✨ “Who is the monster and who is the man?” (footnote 3)

✨ This asylum makes the one in TQOL look like a vacation! (footnote 4)

✨ Sexy villainess gets to emotionally torture one MC and then physically torture another. AND psychologically torture them both! Hell, maybe she’ll even kill one of ’em too! Fun for the whole family!

Footnotes

(1) IT’S NOTHING LIKE ZUKO AND AZULA SHUT UP

(2) IT’S NOTHING LIKE RHYSAND AND FEYRE SHUT UP

(3) IT’S NOTHING LIKE QUASIMODO AND FROLLO SHUT—oh who am I kidding 🎶

(4) Technically the whole asylum thing happened in this story first, like, 2 or 3 years ago. That version just lives in a purple notebook that will never be seen by any eyes but mine. So, really, TQOL stole the asylum setting from BG, not the other way around.

Character Vibes

Evyn, human, orphaned as a child and raised by her aunt and uncle. Now a schoolteacher who sees yellow lights no one else can see.

“My heart cannot be captured. I intend to die an old maid, surrounded by papers and books. Good afternoon!”

Jonathan, human. Evyn's cousin, a clerk. Just truckin' on through a life he finds endlessly tedious and unsatisfying.

“Cecil’s a soggy piece of tree bark in a hat,” he said before he could stop himself.

Ah, Jonathan Garnet. A man who gained a single speck of favour with his impossible-to-please father…and promptly hurled it into the wind.

Dharan, Fae. Exiled from his clan years ago for murdering another Fae.

The Fae leapt up, standing straight and bending his knees as if to run—or perhaps pounce. One hand hovered over the stolen knife on his belt; the other, he extended to her.

He looked away from his foe to meet her gaze, uttering a single word:

“Run.”

Rennith, Fae. Heir to his clan but competing for the title against his twin sister.

He was a man, it seemed, but those eyes bespoke something much more ancient—of man, but not man himself. Silver hair, an impossible shade, framed a face sculpted into sharp angles, as cold and pale as if it were made of ice.

A Fae creature forged in primordial fire, carved from gold, silver, and mother-of-pearl.

For the Whump People Here:

Whumpy Things I've Managed to Squeeze into the First 13,000 words

Humiliation/embarrassment (minor)

Hyperventilation, dyspnea

Angst (minor)

Grabbed in the dark

Abducted

Restrained (but make it magic)

Magically forced to obey commands

Chin grab

Whumpy Things I've Got Planned But Haven't Written

Angst (major)

Stabbed

Various fight-related injuries I won't know till I write them

Betrayed by someone you trust

Drugged/knocked out

Humiliation/embarrassment (major)

Imprisoned

Taunted by the antagonist

More magic restraints (but turn it up to eleven)

Tortured (but make it magic)

Desperation, hitting rock bottom

A death fakeout or two or three

If you made it this far, you deserve a medal. 🥇

#lps blood garnet #pls excuse the constant self-deprecation #i love me - i do - but this story is pretty silly 😂#and i'm ok with that #writeblr #fantasy #mood board #lps mood board #tag game #wip wednesday #wip wednesday tag #vaguely summarized wip #vaguely summarized wip tag #open tag #writeblr open tag #writing #creative writing #wip intro #writeblr community

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katyawriteswhump · 3 months

Text

the power of love, part 9 (steddie, stobin, steve whump fic)

Steve has a habit of surviving near-death experiences then getting sick for no reason. And Eddie and those fatal bat bites? After an impossible feat of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation from Steve, he’s mysteriously fixed. So, Eddie’s back to being banished, this time with Steve and Robin in tow. Eddie’s healing, but Steve isn’t… and life gets even more confusing, when Eddie develops feelings for Steve, which aren’t entirely unrequited.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

(also on AO3 here)

Steve POV continued

“Sorry.” Lying in his bunk in the gloomy cabin, Steve drags his fingers miserably across his eyes. How freakin’ embarrassing—mistaking his best friend for his parents. “Still dreaming, I guess.”

“How do you feel?” asks Robin.

“Oh, peachy! How d’ya think?” He’s beyond tired of feeling this crappy. What the hell happened this time?

Oh yes. He and Eddie kissed, and then…

“Okay, bad news first,” she says, perching on the bed. “You bled through your bandages again. Got all sweaty and yuck.” He knows this already—from the gnaw in his side, and how he’s sticking to the lumpy mattress. “Good news? The bleeding stopped. The really juicy news—we have a theory about what might fix you.”

She spouts a load of stuff about the water from Lover’s Lake giving him some kind of vaguely defined power. And Eddie sucking it out of him?

He snickers. “Did you get that crackpot theory out of the ‘The Weekly Watcher?’”

“Come on, Steve, this is way beyond a shot-in-the-dark.” He rolls his eyes. Even though he sort of agrees with her. “We need to test the theory. Eddie’s gone to fetch lake water.”

“He’s gone back to Hawkins? Is he out of his mind?” He can’t spare the energy to worry about Eddie. He still does, and it makes him feel worse.

“You all right?” asks Robin. “You’ve gone… kinda gray.”

Yeah, feeling kinda gray. He stops scowling, simply because it’s too much effort. “Is there any non-Fairyland water in this shit-hole?”

“There’s a pump.”

After he’s had a drink and splashed his face, he feels… not much better, actually. He slumps back onto the pillow with a hard sigh. “Robin, I wish it was just us, stuck in this together. You're literally the only person in my life where there’s, like, almost zero tension. I mean, we bitch at each other and all—”

“Never!” she snarks.

“Haha, point taken. It’s about nothing that ever matters, though. I know.... You'll... You know, we’ll…”

“Always be there for each other? I sure hope so.” There’s a quiver in her voice that alarms him.

“You still think one of us might not make it this time?”

“No! I mean... We've gotten through that part, haven't we?”

Sure doesn’t feel like it from here.

“Listen,” she says, “it doesn’t have to be tense or cringy between you and Eddie, just because you like each other.”

“Yeah, right. We kissed. I passed out! Not cool.”

“Like he’s gonna hold that against you.” She squeezes his arm. He stares at her chipped nail polish, battling a fresh assault from his candy-ass emotions. “As per ever, dates keep belly-flopping into your lap! When we get through this, I swear I'm gonna slap you for—”

An owl hoot interrupts her. She scuttles to the window, crouches down and peeps out. “It’s okay,” she hisses, “It’s Eddie.”

“Your signal is an owl noise? It’s the middle of the goddamn day! Why don’t you wait till dark and send up fireworks?”

Steve grumbles for the sake of it. On the other hand, he wasn’t lying to Robin. He really doesn’t want to handle Eddie right now. He turns his face to the pillow, muffles his ears with the blanket. Someone prods him. “Steve,” says Robin. “We’ve got the lake water.”

He rolls over. Eddie’s there, brandishing a plastic bottle of clouded liquid. He fixes on Robin. “You want me to drink that shit?”

“Not unless you want to die of what half the soldiers in the Civil War did,” says Robin.

Steve shares a moment of bafflement with Eddie. “How am I gonna get shot drinking lake water?”

“They died of dysentery, Dingus! You literally did nothing in history other than crack moronic jokes and eat breakfast, did you?”

“Whatever,” mumbles Steve. He’s not sure what dysentery is. Sounds sucky. “What are we supposed to do with it, super-brain?”

“Erm, try pouring it.” Robin peels off the freshly bloodied bandages from Steve’s side, grimacing as dramatically as ever. “To be fair, this is disgusting and almost as risky. If nothing good happens, though, we can wipe it off. Yay!”

She drips on the water. For a split second, it’s ice-cold, and he hisses. “Ow… Jesus, Robin!”

“Sorry.”

“Nothing’s happening,” he says. “Oh, hold on. Gnnng, no, no, no, no, no!”

Steve’s flesh and blood blend into pink froth, sizzling like he’s been doused in boiling chip fat. Robin jolts backward; Steve whimpers, helpless to stop himself. Eddie, meanwhile, grabs Steve’s hand, as the unbearable scalding subsides into a strong but tolerable itch. Steve inhales raggedly, lifts his head to confirm that the bat bites have knitted again, leaving a wet mess of red puckered marks and scars.

“I guess that could’ve gone worse.” Eddie sounds spooked.

“Could’ve gone worse? It hurt like… What just happened? WHAT JUST HAPPENED?” Steve’s got a crazy urge to scream… no… run! Pushing himself up onto his elbows takes everything he’s got. “Oh my God, oh my God.”

“Ssssh, it’s okay.” Robin’s now gotten her arms around him, and Eddie’s still holding his hand. “This proves that it’s the water. You’re not flayed, or Vecnad, or Henryd or whatever. Eddie and I discussed it and—”

“What!?!” Steve wriggles free and laughs, because this is hysterical. “You discussed that without including me?”

“We never believed you’d been taken by the dark side,” says Robin, her hand on her breast. “I swear!”

“That’s not the… Ow!”

“Does it still hurt?” asks Robin.

Steve stares daggers at Eddie: “Can you quit crushing my fingers already?”

“Sorry.” Eddie drops Steve’s hand, a little too keenly—leaving Steve oddly desolate, despite his request. Other than that, he does feel better.

And grouchier than ever.

Half an hour later, he’s well enough to get up. He washes himself down at the pump, attempts to salvage his hair, then joins the others in preparing a baked-bean and banana supper. He argues forcefully that both parts can be served together, and it will taste awesome.

Which they do.

Ignoring Robin’s advice, he sips a bottle of bad beer. Eddie is clad in a clean Hellfire Club t-shirt—given to him by Henderson—and regales them with news from Hawkins. This proves depressing, given that Eleven and Hopper are now outlaws too. Then they chat about what hiding places they might move onto next.

“We’re not quite as remote as we thought here,” says Robin. “I found a track that leads pretty close, and you could probably get an off-roader all the way to the camp.” She glances at Steve. “We need somewhere really tucked away, and maybe closer to Lover’s Lake, right?”

“Why are you asking me?” he snaps. “You two seem to have all the answers. I haven’t a clue.”

Steve crawls into his bunk first. For once, sleep doesn’t clobber him instantly. Despite what he said to Robin, he has got theories—stupid though they seem—about the lake, and that time he nearly drowned in it.

He should’ve been terrified of swimming after that. He never was. Plus, he’s been dreaming about that period of his life lately. Dreaming about it a LOT, now he thinks about it.

After a while, he gets sick of his churning thoughts and sits up. Moonlight streaks through one of the high bunk room windows, revealing that Eddie is awake too, cross-legged on the floor. He’s muttering to himself, fiddling with his hair, then his hands.

On spotting Steve staring at him, he presses a finger to his lips, picks up a flashlight, and motions toward the door. Steve pulls on a sweater and follows him outside. It’s a dry night. Banks of bruise-brown clouds semi-obscure a near full moon and a few hazy stars. It’s cool too, though Steve’s palms are getting clammy.

He tracks Eddie into a nearby cabin, filled with a ton of old rope and lumber-hauling equipment. He then remembers he’s annoyed, and folds his arms.

“Totally love how you two went behind my back and discussed whether I was flayed or not.”

Eddie plonks down the flashlight. “Kinda obvious that we had to. We didn’t tell you, because we didn’t want to stress you out, and… honestly? We never bought it. Dustin was highly sceptical—”

“You discussed me with Henderson too? That’s great!” Steve plants his hands on his hips, growing too hot and bothered to think straight: “Maybe you’re ALL idiots. Maybe I am somehow flayed! Right at the start, that Upside Down thing came through my pool. Possibly. To take Barb. Now the water from near a gate fixes me and—“

“And I make you fix me!” Eddie’s preening grin is vicious. “Perhaps I’m the source of the magical shitstorm? Did that ever cross your egotistical rich-brat mind, Harrington?”

Eddie might as well have punched him. Steve’s still reeling from the blow, when Eddie pinches the bridge of his nose:

“Look, I’m sorry, man,” mutters Eddie. “I’m pretty stressed, too. Dustin was telling me about how you got sick whenever you left Hawkins as a kid, and—"

“Wow! Good job I’m an EGOTISTICAL BRAT, because I really am a hot topic! Did Nance reel off an article for the Hawkins Post?”

“Uh, Steve?” Eddie takes a step closer then abruptly pulls short. “I apologised, okay? Why exactly are we arguing about this?”

“I… Oh Christ, Eddie, I honestly don’t know.”

Steve’s shoulders slump. How excruciatingly typical! That little egg-head Dustin had a hunch about something that’s only just occurring to Steve, and which… Shit, the whispers in his mind are scary.

This is where you come clean, Harrington. This is where you say: "I almost drowned in that lake in 1978. What if it wasn't 'almost?' What if I died back then, at eleven years old. What if something or someone in that water brought me back, and for good or evil, it's still got a hold of me?"

Does it make any sense? Would Eddie simply think him egotistical again, or stupid? Suddenly, all he wants is to forget the whole wide world, especially the freaky parts. Everything apart from…

…Eddie.

Who is hunching awkwardly away from Steve, palpably scared to get too near, let alone touch him. The naked longing in those gorgeous brown eyes, however, is reassuring.

“Look, I'm sorry too.” Steve licks dry lips. “I’ve been a complete asshole today, I know. It’s just… What happened when we kissed is so humiliating.”

“Why? It’s not your fault. Believe me, Stevie, I’d kiss you again in a heartbeat, if it wasn’t for… uh…”

Eddie’s adorable blushes and the silly pet name are invitation enough. Steve closes the gap between them, leans in and whispers:

“You win. Maybe we shouldn’t kiss again till we’ve figured out exactly what’s going on, but… C’mon, man, you’ve touched me plenty without any bad repercussions. I slept in your lap.” We freakin’ spooned! “There’s gotta be something fun we can do.”

Eddie shakes his head, squirming hilariously. “You take a turn for the worse, papa bear will rip my guts out.”

“What are you talking ab… Oh, Robin? Seriously?”

“Look, I really don’t want to hurt you.” Steve’s chest pangs, because this could be a brush off.

Or it might not be.

“C’mon, Munson. Promise I’m not gonna break.” At that, a dirty little smile plays on Eddie’s mouth, which sends sparks through Steve’s veins. “What you thinking?”

The smile evolves into a filthy laugh. “All right, before you get out the thumb-screws—I used to have this fantasy about you. It’s totally messed-up, kinda kinky. I wouldn’t expect you to be up for it, even if we didn’t have our current, uh, issues.”

“Oh!” To be fair, Eddie is right. Steve has never been into kinky shit. That said, before this guy hijacked his heart, he’s never salivated at the mere thought of tattoos. “Um, try me?”

Eddie husks his little scenario into Steve’s ear, and Steve decides he’s totally game.

“It’s a kook-ball daydream,” says Eddie. “We shouldn’t really—"

“You wanna tie me up, Munson? We got plenty of rope a night to kill.” He slinks his arms up and under Eddie’s t-shirt. “Let’s do this.”

Part 10

tags: @estrellami-1 @kal-ology (thank you, thank you, thank you!) If anybody else would like to be tagged on this fic or any of my writing, please let me know :) Reblogs, comments and likes also very much appreciated :) Thank you for reading so far :)

(also part of my steve whump fic series on AO3)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 10 Part 11

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington whump #steve x eddie #steddie fanfic #steve harrington #steve harrington x eddie munson #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson #steve & robin #stobin friendship #platonic stobin #stobin fic #steve and robin #steddie fanfiction #steve and eddie

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justanamesstuff · 10 months

Text

The intimacy of being understood

Chapter 6

Matty Healy x f!reader

A/N: This chapter it was inspired by Gilmore Girls. I needed to say that haha. Okay, one more chapter and this little story is done (+ the epilogue). I'm not sure I said this but it was a real rollercoaster for me the experience around this story...it's not a one about big moments and plot twists, all that happens is kinda under the surface. The reality is that didn't happen on porpoise, it kinda happened. I've been writing for a long time now, and one thing that keeps surprising me is how stories built themselves. In the sense that the writer only has a bit of control over it..the rest is the magic of writing. So, thanks for being here guys, for reading my works. Truly means the world :)♥

Warnings: a lot of fluffy feelings and a few hurt ones at the end, typos.

Word count: 1.2 K

Blog Masterlist Series Masterlist

The annoying vibration of a phone buzzing closer to her body disturbed Y/n’s dreams. She moved trying to ignore it, although a loud groan from another human being woke her up a little bit more.

Her tired eyes opened and fell on a male sleeping across from her on the couch --on a very uncomfortable position, Y/n thought. Matty was sound asleep on her couch. His curls were everywhere around the cushion he was using like a pillow. The singer looked innocent and cute.

Her phone vibrating distracted Y/n from the view. Kate was calling her. Y/n frowned to her screen, swiping her finger to answer.

“Hello.” she said, in a low tone, so her voice didn’t wake Matty.

“Thanks for picking up, bitch.”

“Sorry.” Y/n placed a hand on her forehead, walking away from the couch. She turned around to check he was still asleep. Y/n let a breath out, noticing he in fact was.

After, she noticed the bottles --plural-- of wine empty on her coffee table, also being adorned by the copy Matty was meant to take and return home. Obvious to that point, he never left.

“What are you waiting for?” Kate shouted, Y/n took the phone away from her ear.

“What?” her friend was very confused.

“I’m freezing out here, girl!”

“What are you talking about, Kate?”

“Here that goes, our new intent to be healthy. Open your door and I’ll make coffee.”

Y/n vaguely remembered talking with her about going for runs around the park every Saturday. Something they failed at the first start.

“Are you at the door?”

“Y/n!”

Kate’s friend walked fast, opening the door and finding her best friend at the other side. She cut the call.

“Please don’t shout.” she pleaded.

“Oh, shit!” Kate exclaimed, taking in Y/n’s state.

***

Both friends stood side to side on the old frame which separated the entrance of the house from the living room.

“He’s sleeping in your living room.” Kate stated the obvious.

“Mhm.”

“Matty Healy is sleeping in your couch.”

“Yes.”

“Care to explain? Did you-” Y/n’s friend turned to look at her, surprised about her idea.

“No.” Y/n interrupted her before she could say the next words. Both checked if Matty woke up, he only turned to the opposite side. “No.” Y/n said lower than before.

“It’s okay if you did.”

“Kate, he came to pick one of his books. We drank wine and talked about it.” she explained, meanwhile she pushed her friend towards the kitchen. They needed to be far from Matty, just in case he woke up.

“He couldn’t wait until you were at the shop?” Kate inquired.

“He could. I urged him.” Y/n admitted, making coffee for them.

“You what?”

“Mornin’” Matty showed up, startling them. “Sorr- Oh, hi Kate.” he greeted her, embarrassed she was there.

“Hi, Matty.”

“Do you- Do you want coffee?” Y/n offered him. Matty looked at the woman for the first time that morning. His curls wild, his cute tired eyes. Her knees almost failed her.

Matty stared between the friends. “I should go…”

“Don’t mind me crushing your sleepover, guys.” Kate teased them, breaking the tension.

Y/n scolded her, “Kate!” and Matty laughed.

“Okay, one coffee and then I'll leave.” he said, taking a seat beside Kate on the kitchen table.

“Great.”

Matty and Y/n exchanged a couple of smiles under the attentive watch of Kate. They didn’t notice her, too engrossed in each other. Y/n’s friend hid her smile behind her mug.

*********

Matty stood up when the conversation died a little, giving him the perfect chance to leave before he just decided he was going to spend the entire day there. Which was what he really wanted, although Matty felt he already took enough of Y/n’s time and attention.

“I’m off, girls.”

“Really? You just stayed more than twelve hours, Matty.” Kate titled her head.

“And you wanted to meet her.” Y/n remind him.

Matty chose silence as the best option, saying a simple “Bye, Kate.”

“Bye, Matty.”

Walking behind Matty, Y/n closed the door so Kate couldn’t spy on them.

“Sorry about her.”

“Don’t, she’s funny.”

“Sorry for retaining you here.” she truly meant it.

“Y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“Stop apologizing, ya?” Matty placed his hand on her forearm, looking into her tired eyes.

Y/n made a fake sign of zipping her mouth.

“Had a great time last night.” the singer squeezed her arm a bit.

She agreed, “Me too.”

“I’ll see you soon, Y/n.” Matty dared to leave a soft kiss on her cheek and she felt all the surrounding air disappearing.

The frontman looked at her, centimetres away from her face, to then suddenly be metres away.

Y/n waved, saying, “See ya.” Matty chuckled without turning around.

The woman saw her disappeared around the corner. Y/n noticed then she had been waving the entire time until that moment. She stopped, turning around, going inside.

“See ya? See ya? What a moron.” Y/n whispered, closing the door behind her.

“Sure. Of course.” Kate teased her.

Kate’s friend protested, resting her body on the wooden door, “I- Don’t.”

“I didn’t.” the addressed woman lifted her hands.

Y/n’s tired eyes turned to the side, towards the living room. She moved fast, as if someone was banging on the door fell on the book startling her, although her eyes were fixed on an item resting –still– on the coffee table. ‘On The Road’ by Jack Kerouac.

“Shit.” Y/n took it.

“Excuse you.”

She didn’t hear Kate’s lame joke, she continued, “He forgot the book.”

“Ah?”

“He came to pick the book…and he forgot it.” Y/n looked to Kate. “I’m going to try to catch him.” she started walking, trying to reach the front door.

Although Kate stopped her, “Don’t be dramatic. Take it to the shop.”

Maybe it was a “Good idea.” since she didn’t want to look desperate.

“Do you want toasts? I’m starving.” Kate offered, without paying more attention to the book.

“Yeah, yeah…” Y/n’s were still focused on the old item between her hands.

When Kate was out of sight, she took her phone out and opened Matty’s chat.

Y/n: you forgot the book…

Matty replied right away.

Matty 🎸: yeah x Y/n: I can bring it to the shop!

Because offering to bring it to his house was too much, even more after they spent the night together at hers.

Matty 🎸: no, it’s alright

Y/N frowned reading the text.

Y/n: what do you mean?

She was biting her nails when he clarified.

Matty 🎸: I mean, keep it Y/n x

Y/n typed and typed, looking for the right words. It was his book, not hers.

Matty 🎸: IT YOURS NOW!

The singer stopped her before she could protest more, even though she tried one last time.

Y/n: This doesn’t feel right. I’m going to gift you one. Matty 🎸: fuck no! Forget it. Y/n: Matty… Matty 🎸: Y/n, it was a pleasure to discuss it with you. Have a nice day, see you soon x

His written words left a sour taste on her mouth. Y/n felt like Matty was dismissing her, ending the conversation, so she just locked the phone, feeling a pang in her chest. Without knowing that at the other end of the line, Matty was waiting for an answer that never came and made him thought he fucked up for good.

----------------------------------------------------

Taglist (let me know if you want to be included): @indierockgirrl @x-a-black-winged-dove-x @iregretbeingherewheniwas10 @hswannaknow @thefrontofmymind

#matty healy fic #matty healy x reader #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fan fic #matty healy x y/n #matty healy fluff #matty the 1975

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bubbabooo · 2 years

Text

ao3 recs

i’m back 😋

decided to make another ao3 recs list hehe, these are always my fav to make

i’ve also decided to completely revamp the way i do my recs lists. before the descriptions were too vague and lazy. now i’ll be giving my own description along with what i thought of the fic. looking back on my old recs lists i cannot believe they got as many notes as they did when they were so crappy LOL

also i don’t know if you can tell but i’m trying to make my lists prettier ☺️☺️ (hence the header image and the pink dividers :p)

side note, there’s and alarming amount of atsumu fics in here?? i didn’t even realize that i’ve been reading purely atsumu content?

Forget-Me-Not by ChaoticSins

Atsumu x reader, friends to lovers 💗💗. this one has me in a chokehold. so you and atsumu are childhood friends and you’ve been in love with atsumu practically your whole life. you end up leaving for college but then when you finish it you need to get an apartment. atsumu offers to be your roommate (see where i’m going here?). this whole story had me squealing and kicking my legs. i really don’t want to spoil it but i will give you one of my favorite quotes in this book: “But…don’t ya fuckin’ dare think yer 5 years of waitin’ around for her is anywhere near the 11 years I spent lovin’ her,” :) ongoing

msby black jackals online! by mooshys

Black jackals x reader, mostly platonic but one of the guys will be endgame ;). this one is by the same author as shiratorizawa antics! i adore that story and they both share many of the same elements. if you liked that one you’ll definitely like this one. here, you are the teams social media manager. you go through many heartwarming (and hilarious) things with the team. this story is definitely a nice fluffy getaway from the majority of fics i read haha. it was so fun to read and i loved it. completed

Better Days Ahead by morningsideup

Kuroo x reader, demon kuroo x reader, magic/modern au. do i really have to say more?? this fic…! so you are just the run of the mill museum worker (btw your co worker is tsukki), living a boring ol mundane life. until you find the demon prince kuroo who accidentally traveled to your universe and is now unfortunately stuck due to you destroying the item that brought him here. now, you are stuck with this spoiled demon prince and are forced to help him search for the missing shards of his gem that brought him here so he can travel back home. cmon, tell me that doesn’t immediately want to make you dive into this fic. the tension between reader and kuroo drives me insane. and you’ll come to know that tsukishima can be a little shit. 10/10 so far, ongoing

They were roommates by atsukashii

Iwaizumi x reader, roommates au<333, friends to lovers. you are in need of a roommate. you see an ad for a girl named tooru oikawa looking for a roommate. you jump at the chance and are looking forward to moving in. you think everything’s perfect until you get to your new home and see that tooru isn’t a girl, and that he has a very friend who also happens to be your roommate. oikawa won’t be difficult to live with, but iwaizumi? and his hotness? def gonna be a problem. this is the perfect quick read. it’s so good for when you’re in a reading stump and need a pick me up. iwaizumi makes you feel all mushy inside🥴. and the ending has to be one of the most satisfying fic endings i’ve read recently. completed

Set the Bar High by BeansNCornbread

Atsumu x reader, enemies to lovers, complicated. you work at a bar. you’re a college student and this is the perfect gig for you. however, miya atsumu never fails to make your life more difficult. he shamelessly flirts with you while he’s with other girls, and never leaves you alone. maybe you’d consider indulging him if he didn’t break your little sisters heart all those years ago. cannot explain how much i love this fic so far. the way atsumu desperately tries to get your attention while you keep brushing him off. and the tension. the fucking sexual tension between reader and atsumu. it has me bitting my nails. i binged this in an entire day. i love atsumus cocky ass and his fucking pining is so obvious but our oblivious readers ass doesn’t even realize it. craving the next chapter. ongoing

call me home by laurelandharper

Ushijima x reader, faking dating troupe<33. You are a famous ex child star and current professional model. you and professional volleyball player ushijima wakatoshi are paired up together for an ad campaign. to overcome unavoidable rumors, the two of you decide to fake date until things calm down. nothing can go wrong right? hehe. i love ushijima. i just love this man. everytime i read a fic with this man i’m blushing. what i really liked about this fic is was how short it was (occasionally i enjoy a nice quick read) and i liked the build up of reader and ushijimas relationship. it felt very real for me. sometimes when i’m reading the fake dating troupe i feel like the authors sometimes force the relationship. i didn’t feel that at all while reading this fic. ushijima is such a sweetheart and gentlemen here. love this fic please read it <3 completed

Challenge Accepted by Cutesight

Akaashi x reader, sort of enemies to lovers? There’s a challenge going around. Get the attention and “break” the handsome setter of Fukurodani. No one has completed this, no one’s even gotten close. However, when curious little y/n decides to partake in the challenge, she gives akaashi a run for his money. This fic is a guilty pleasure. It was a nice break from the other complicated fics i’m reading. It’s a very easy read and i love it for that. Honestly, a couple times throughout this story akaashi was getting on my last nerve. like just be with reader?? but overall it’s such a fun read. one of the best ways i can describe this story is idiots in love. oh and konoha is a little interesting in this fic too ;) completed

I Hope It Hurts by demxnscous

Atsumu x reader, enemies to lovers. you are the manager for Inarizaki. you and atsumu have never gotten along. the setter has always been a pain and you thought maybe things could improve over time. they didn’t. but now you’re being forced to tutor him, will things get better? this fic is hardcore enemies. atsumu and reader hate each other. this story is still in its early stages, so we’ve only seen a little build up with reader and atsumu. but i love the hatred between them. it’s so raw. it’s not the bullshit enemies to lovers where they kinda don’t like each other. they strongly dislike if not hate each other. i cannot wait to see this story blossom and progress. ongoing

Red Thread by deltachye

Ushijima x reader, soulmate au. in a world where you are bound to someone for life, all you want is to be with your soulmate. however, after finding him, and living with him, what do you do when he loves volleyball more than he’ll ever love you? i’ve said this before, but i tend to stray away from soulmate aus. this one is one of the few exceptions. honestly as much as i adore ushijima, he could be severely annoying throughout this story (which was intentional). this story does have some scenes which may be triggering for some which the author includes in her tags, so check it out and don’t read this one if you’re uncomfortable with those topics. overall, this story is a good example of how good a soulmate au can be without forcing it too much. completed

#atsumu x reader #kuroo x reader #atsumu miya x reader #kuroo testsuro x reader #msby x reader #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi x reader #akaashi x reader #akaashi keiji x reader #haikyuu fic #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x reader #ao3 #ao3 recs #fanfic #hq fanfic #hq #haikyuu!!

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sexycornenthusiast · 4 months

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I'm writing a mean girls long fic and I'm wondering about ways to develop Karen (as a secondary, yet important, character), making her more then a comic relief, but still maintaining her essence. I saw you think a lot about her (hc's list and all) so I came here to ask your thoughts on it

Anything you want to from a quick thought to deep analysis

Oh God, where do I even begin here? I'm gonna try to give you the shortest possible version of my personal character analysis of Karen. Note that I developed this mostly based on the stage musical with vague sprinklings of the original so your mileage may vary, especially in the 2024 canon.

So, in the meta, Karen's character is meant to be a parody of a desirable woman. She's stupid, she's docile, she's pretty, she's a "slut". She's better at "being a woman" (in the patriarchal sense) than anyone else in the cast. Why is that?

1. Karen is loyal to a fault, especially to Regina, who is one of her oldest friends (in my hc). Regina has a lot of issues that we don't have time to get into, but the main thing here is that she's obsessed with social acceptance to the point of making herself miserable and she takes out her internalized misogyny on all the girls around her, which has a negative effect on basically the entire main cast. Karen absorbs all of this because she loves her best friend (platonically I'd say, but I won't tell you what to do haha) and wants to make her happy.

2. Karen sees herself as incapable/incompetent. She argues and misdirects when anyone tries to tell her that she isn't (Cady, in canon). In my mind this is because she has an undiagnosed learning disability that's affected her self image since like, age 5, but that may be straying into the realm of fan theories a bit.

3. Karen's role in the dynamic of the Plastics is to ease tension and keep everyone happy (mostly Regina again). She thinks of herself as a sort of in-universe comic relief in that way. What makes Karen a mean girl is that she's willing to sweep all sorts of cruelty under the rug for the sake of keeping the peace. If it's not directed at someone she cares about, she'll happily ignore it. She doesn't want to address her friends' issues, because those make people uncomfortable or even upset. And really, who is she to bring it up? She's too stupid.

I may have gotten slightly carried away so I don't know how much this will help with your fic but I'll take any chance to ramble that I can get. Karen is my everything.

#mean girls #mean girls musical #mean girls 2024 #karen smith #karen shetty #the void screams back

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insurrection-if · 4 months

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With Mockingbird (I want to say mockingjay really bad, thanks Hunger Games) gift being so centered around biting and consumption, could it be easy to imagine some mcs have more mouthy behaviors? Like Mc has a subconscious/nervous tic to lightly bite at their own hand or bite at their close friends and families.

How the ros react to seeing it happen? And would they have a particular reaction to Mc lightly biting them casually in romantic relationships (never enough to draw blood)?

｡ﾟ ( ﾟ^∀^ﾟ)ﾟ｡ I can deeply relate to the tendency for biting and mouthy behaviors as a means of comfort . . . just not when it comes to biting other people, haha! Goodness, I bit and chewed on everything as a kid! Thankfully, I’ve settled down to only biting my nails and having a horrible relationship with gum, haha! (Seriously, give me a single piece of gum and I won’t be able to eat or speak the whole next day due to the soreness of my jaw.)

But yes, I imagine that mouthy and biting behaviors are super fitting for some MCs—I really love the thought of it! (　´∀｀)b

Akil

Biting Themself: His first instinct would be to chide against such behavior, thinking it unsanitary, unsafe, and simply a poor habit for self-conduct. He might try to catch Mockingbird's hand before it can reach their waiting teeth and open lips, careful to not hurt them as he does so, and guide it to rest within his own upon a table or their lap. If they had a penchant for biting their hair, he might form a (mindless) habit of brushing it behind their ear / shoulders so it may be out of reach from their mouth.

Akil would also likely gift Mockingbird gloves of some kind in order to prevent the skin of their hands from taking much damage or stress from this habit.

Biting Him: The beginnings of soft curses die out on his lips whenever he feels your teeth capture his skin, his instinctual resistance eased into a tired sigh when your bites prove to be curious and light. He prefers to have your bites on his hands when they are protected by gloves, and those that wander closer to his shoulders and neck are better received once the day is done.

If you must bite him to soothe yourself, unable to control this habit by sheer will, he would request you do so solely in private.

Kamiko

Biting Themself: From anyone else, she would assume it to be yet another eccentricity among the odd company she holds. She resists lifting a brow towards this unsanitary habit, and the fixation of her gaze as you engage in this behavior carries a soft layer of concern. It seems to be harmless physically and mentally. You seem to take comfort and satisfaction in those unconscious bites. She tells herself it is cuter than it is disconcerting, but these internal words don't always ring true.

If anyone else had anything to say about this habit, whether it be teasing or shaming, she would not think before rising to your defense.

Biting Her: It does not make sense to her. Your gift, strange and ever-changing as it is, has always longed for the bloody connection to your fellow Gifted alone. In the beginning, she had assumed your habit to be a manifestation of its insatiability . . . of the natural predator's instinct that laid behind the odd and alluring surface you presented.

But she is no Gifted. And yet, even still, it seems you are still drawn to nip and tug at her exposed skin with a gentleness both thoughtless and dangerous from a mouth so ravenous.

It used to frighten her. Beneath the false serenity she tried to wear when she first started to lose her heart to you, there had been a cold dread that weighed in her stomach whenever your teeth casually grazed and caressed her. Self-discipline had kept her still. A longing for trust, unquestionable and true, kept her vague horror contained to a stoic tension easily misread as shyness.

In time, in a process as gradual as it was subconscious, that fear had been lost. Instead, it has been replaced by the presence of the faintest blush as she "tolerates" the strange habit, only pushing you away with a light hand whenever a professional air needs to be kept.

Sigmund

Biting Themself: Once he recognizes this to be a common nervous tic, he will be vigilant in keeping an eye out for it.

He will ask if something is on their mind, if something is troubling them. If there is a burden they are keeping to themself, mulling over and coping with through this behavior, he would want the weight of it to be shared with him.

As he tries to coax them to speak on whatever matter might be worrying them, direct yet patient in his approach, he too would reach out his hand for Mockingbird to take hold, either so he can examine the extent of irritation that may have been caused to their skin or simply to hold their hand as a means of support / keeping it from their nervous bites.

If Mockingbird is not troubled by anything, simply having fallen into the act by absent-minded habit, he would be relieved to hear that is the case. Still, he would consider this a sign to perhaps distract Mockingbird with some shared company or activity in order to pull them out from whatever daze or mood urged them to bite themself in the first place.

Biting Him: He hates how much he enjoys this.

He hates how easily his smiles come as your teeth gnaw and cling to him without hesitation or thought. How laughter threatens to seep past his lips as you nip with the odd and dangerous cuteness of a pet.

It stirs something within him to know you are so comfortable with him, bearing trust in him to not hurt or reject you as you soothe yourself with these soft bites. Even when his pulse seems to spike when your teeth meet his skin, burning with a worry and excitement you must practically taste, he cannot help but enjoy the moment that would seem so strange to another's eyes.

He cares little for who sees this little quirk of yours. Whether your bites stay fixated on his hands or stray upwards to nip at his neck, it would be a rare occurrence for him to ever fully deny you this small habit of comfort.

Imka

Biting Themself: She would notably worry, from acquaintanceship to the crushing stage, over Mockingbird potentially hurting themself with such a habit. Then again, she possesses her own nervous tics that some of the others have occasionally tried to dissuade, and she knows how hard it is to quell something so ingrained and comforting.

If she saw them particularly distressed / antsy / rough in their habit, she would shyly request to hold their hand in hers. Her touch would hover lightly above the stressed skin, trying to observe potential irritation or scratches caused by the pressure of your teeth. If there is need to tend to it, she will. If not, then she will hesitate a moment before asking if there's anything she can do to distract Mockingbird, hoping to occupy them from the mindless habit as best she can.

Biting Her: Sometimes, a tickled yelp escapes her. Other times, a flustered gasp slips past her lips. But when it comes to her most common reaction of all, rarely does she manage to voice the shock of her scattered thoughts through more than a squeak.

Her face burns with the intensity of embarrassment and desire all at once, the simple habit to you feeling far too intimate for any returned casual indifference. Your lips graze and tease her. Your teeth stir her heart with an equal sense of fear and excitement. To know you are drawn to her like this, feel comfortable with her like this . . . it's enough to make her a little dizzy.

She feels all the more like a foolish, lovesick pup to be so flustered by what is little more than a thoughtless habit to you.

Elouan

Biting Themself: "You should not be so cruel to yourself, dear."

There is no seriousness to his tone, the words given with a smile more polite than it is genuine. "You are the most enchanting creature I have ever seen. To sully yourself with the stress of your teeth, marring your skin like this again and again . . . I fear you might not understand just what kind of perfection you are tearing at with those little bites.”

Instinctively, his own hands tug at the ends of his gloves, his own tic of comfort at the thought of any ruin you might cause to your skin. Yet his smile remains, as empty a gesture as it is.

He will not force an end to the habit, but he would not wish to encourage it either. A tense smile, a polite one depending on his mind and mood, would be all he gives before diverting his gaze from your little habit.

He would, however, insist that you clean your hands / skin before and after indulging in this quirk of yours. He will assist in cleaning your hands himself if need be to ensure that you do.

Biting Him: If deeper into your relationship, the pressure of your teeth, light though it may be, pleases him all the same.

Never will he let your little bites mindlessly nip and graze the bare skin of his hands—the aching memories of their scars too sensitive even for the sweet toying of your harmless habit—but, with gloves adorned, they are yours for the taking.

Sometimes he will pretend to pay it no mind, casually continuing conversations with another as you capture his hand between your teeth. Sometimes he will offer the odd compliment to the brilliance of your teeth, the light brush of your lips, or the skill of your bites that satisfy you without any true harm to himself.

It calls to mind the lost companionship of his precious little birds, the occasional nip and grip of their beaks as they climbed and sought to share their affection with him.

It is no wonder then that he takes much more to calling you pet once this habit has fully revealed itself in time, though he does not take conscious notice of the newfound fondness he has for this endearment towards you.

Jae

Biting Themself: Once, she would have laughed at the sight. Like an itchy dog, you nibble and capture your own skin between your teeth without care or concern for whoever might see this odd habit at play. How could she not consider a quirk like this to be so humorous a thing to see?

Friendship makes her question her laughter. Love, slow as it might be, makes her laughter cease, replaced by a fond smile and fierce resistance to any who may make a comment in judgement.

She is not one to force change upon you. If this brings you comfort, then she will stand by and allow you this little, if strange, respite from whatever might trouble your mind. Yes, she will do her part in cleaning yours hands from any stray stains of your spit or kissing your irritated skin so it might feel a little better after such thoughtless kneading beneath teeth, but she will not think to chastise you for this.

Cope as you wish, so long as it allows you to feel better in the end.

It also helps that you are too cute to chastise when you bite at yourself like this.

Biting Her: She bites down her grin, excitement and pleasure bubbling as she all but fawns over the light grasp of your teeth.

Yes, she cannot help how this excites her. To be caught in the grip of those teeth usually made so pretty with blood, knowing that no true harm will come to her when she so clearly lays claim to your heart . . . Her excitement is one rooted in her sudden awareness towards how lovely a beast you can be, yet you willingly—perhaps unconsciously—tame yourself to bite her only in a manner so indulgently harmless.

There is something quite attractive in knowing that, hypothetically, at any moment, your ambition, your craving, or your cruel desires could tear through the skin and steal her blood for your own sole gain. Yet you do not.

All you seek instead . . . is comfort. How cute a sentiment.

It makes her love you all the more.

"Please", she'd drawl through smirking lips, "I know you can bite harder than that."

Perhaps the challenge is genuine. An invitation to let yourself loose with her, free from fear of hurting her. Or perhaps it is little more than a harmless tease, a joke more so for herself than for you.

However she means it, you are never left to question the fact that she is ultimately pleased to be held and used by your teeth.

Niccolò

Biting Themself: He cannot help but be humored by the sight of your bites and nibbles. You resemble more a small critter of the forest, wild and free, than an imprisoned and blood-drawn Gifted whenever he catches you in this act.

"You must taste so sweet," he hums with a smile as he studies the faint trails of marks left upon your hand, barely perceptible to the natural eye, "I wish I could have a taste of my own as well."

At odd hours of the day, he reminisces upon this habit of yours. Theorizes on whether it is another clue towards the secret of your blood, the veiled and suppressed essence of your gift's purpose.

He imagines what it must be like to have a tongue that tastes, to have teeth that in some sense or another feel, and how it might be if he were the one to bite gently at you as you do to yourself.

He adores it, of course, for it is another curiosity for him to examine, unfold, and, ultimately, love as another eccentricity of yours.

Biting Him: “Does it not hurt?”

It is not a question asked with concern or reprimand. His tone is light, curious, and the intense focus of his gaze upon your lips and teeth (bared to his sight now and then) speaks instead of his unquenchable fascination for you and all that you do.

He knows that he lacks the softness of a human touch. He cannot offer a hand that is anything but cold, anything but tough and false. And he marvels at how you do not mind; you do not care. Your teeth persist, almost as if they were determined to mark or draw something from him. Sometimes light and slow in their touch with mindful caution, other times firm and possessive with distracted abandon.

It delights him. Amuses him. Never will he deny the grasp and touch of your teeth. It is a curious, beloved, habit and he would never wish to deprive you of it.

Mutya

Biting Themself: "Don’t.”

The command comes out more bluntly than she would have liked. She frowns, recollects her thoughts, and tries again.

“Please . . . don’t.”

Eloquent as ever, her frown twists into something a little more bitter as she internally scolds herself. She sighs through her nose and tries yet again.

“I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” she begins with as much softness as she can force herself to muster when worry forces her to tense, “Your body is a temple, mahal. Biting at it, stressing it, hurting it without a thought . . . I’d rather we find better ways for you to reassure yourself. Healthier habits of control.”

She remembers her old habits. Rooting herself in the present with pain: self-inflicted bruises and aches meant to empty her from any and all thoughts. She had been little more than a child, as you must have been when this habit first began. And though she herself has not managed to fully erase those old reliances that promised her more long-term harm than short-term relief, she has come much farther than she once ever thought possible for herself.

As small a thing as your bites may be, she does not wish to encourage their frequency, much less your reliance on them. Especially with someone like Uriel across enemy lines, who can excite your emotions in the worst of ways, urging your methods of coping to manifest in as ugly and brutal a manner as possible . . . No, she would rather caution against the possibility of something like this ever becoming a source of true, self-inflicted harm upon yourself.

Biting Her: “Fuc—!"

Her curse is cut off by a hiss, the moment of shock quickly easing once she realizes it is only you. A grunt, perhaps a groan, rumbles into a relenting sigh as she forces herself to relax beneath the sudden hold of your teeth.

It is almost embarrassing how quickly she gives into this habit of yours. She worries now and then that it is dangerous for her to encourage it at all, knowing what an effect the mere proximity and pulse of another Gifted’s blood can have over you.

And yet, you do not seem to share her reservations or troubles. You claim it is a form of comfort, and other times that this is little more than a thoughtless urge.

When it is only her that you pose to hurt—though she knows you never would, not with intention— then who is she to deny you your nature? Worry may pinch at her brows, sighs may slip past her lips, but never will her hand push you away. She loves you for all that you are, and the strange habit of bites like those from a playful—if poorly trained—pet becomes easier to accept as time passes by.

Fyodor

Biting Themself: It is an adorable sight whenever he catches you nibbling at your own skin, leaving lovely indentations from your perfect teeth onto your perfect hands. It is all lovely because it is all you.

Perhaps he will begin to call you his little rabbit. That is what your small bites call to mind as he observes them with apt attention.

If you are his, then he will not hesitate to take your marked hands to caress, to coat them with generous kisses, hoping for their redness / impressions ache to be soothed.

Biting Him: He cannot deny you; not in this, at least.

It is a harmless habit to him. Your teeth tickle. They offer to him smiles and laughter, an expression flushed with joy and love as he feels your lips, spit, teeth, and heat caress him in pursuit of your own satisfaction.

It is cute like a puppy that teethes. It gives you comfort, and thus it gives him purpose. And if this succeeds in allowing your own skin some rest from your little bites, he is all the happier to offer himself in their place.

Though, in the presence of a busy public, he may at first fluster as your teeth pull gently and mark him lightly—without thought or intention—as an act so intimate to him is openly displayed for all to see. Deeper in a relationship, he would be incapable of paying mind to the presence of any others as his attention is solely captured by the touch of your lips and teeth against his skin.

#ro #react #c: akil #c: kamiko #c: sigmund #c: imka #c: elouan #c: jae #c: niccolo #c: mutya #c: fyodor

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