#and work has been taking up a lot of my time
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would love your opinion of the newest episode of DW, if you get the chance.
HAHAHAHA YES I HAVE MANY THOUGHTS
Alright okay so
I only have one complaint, which is that that wasn't a faerie ring. You could still have the shamble, no problem, but it should have been over the top of an actual faerie ring, which should be a mushroom (or, at a push, stone) circle. Not some cotton that would blow clean off the cliff edge in three minutes.
HOWEVER
This is the first time I've seen Doctor Who do a time travel story using, not Doctor Who time travel lore and rules, but Welsh faerie rules. (First time I've seen anything do it, in fact.) In Welsh myth, people who enter faerie rings or get entranced by the music become suspended in time, out of sync with the real world. They think they danced for a night, but when they return it's been 100 years, and they crumble to dust as soon as they eat/drink/step on land/etc.
In this case, this is what I think happened to Ruby. She spent that time in Annwfn, seeing what would happen if the binding on the ring was broken. When she 'dies', she returns to the spot and lasts long enough to give her younger self the warning, then crumbles to dust.
But, a time travelling Ruby is not the woman who follows her throughout the episode. That, in fact, is a gwyll.
The gwyllion were hag faeries, usually of mountain tops (though Pembrokeshire's liminal cliffs are 100% from Welsh mythology - it was said that if you found a faerie ring on one but only put one foot in, you could see the faerie islands in the sea. And that faeries used to visit the human markets in Pembrokeshire and Ceredigion. So while gwyllion are unusual there, it's not an impossible relocation.) They were malicious and sometimes vicious faeries who delighted in making people lose their way, could strike an uncontrollable and ungodly terror into travellers, and who feature in more that one myth as an old woman that someone tried to approach, but they always appeared at the same distance away, impossible to catch up.
CAN YOU SEE THE PARALLELS
And the best part!! Is that this is why she defeats UNIT!!!
Kate tells Ruby that her agents have necklaces of silver and salt to keep out the supernatural, but that's just generic fairytale shit. That doesn't work on gwyllion. Salt drawn in a line would provide a barrier, but the UNIT soldiers aren't trying to trap or block the gwyll; they're trying to capture her. What works, very specifically, is a knife. Iron or steel for preference of course, but it needs to be a knife.
But UNIT has no Welsh employees and the soldiers have guns, not knives. And so they all become entranced.
(This is also what I think the gwyll 'says' to everyone to turn them against Ruby. She doesn't say anything - she sings.)
This is also the first time I've ever encountered any mainstream media doing Welsh faeries and understanding the tone to strike, which is 'unknowable, unstoppable and fucking terrifying'. I think I've only ever read it in Catharine Fisher books, and she's a Welsh author so... yeah, obviously. But I basically vibrated with delight and excitement for the entire episode.
Oh my god, hang on, Roger ap Gwilliam! Okay, I have two theories about him.
My weaker theory and the one I don't like is the kind of boring and obvious one, which is that he is himself not human. A lot of Welsh folklore features the devil, and I get that vibe from his role in the story. But, I'm not keen, because I can't see the link to the gwyll.
But my strongest theory, and the one I have chosen to believe, is that he's a human who made a deal with the Fae for power, and then reneged. There's a Metric Fuckton of stories about humans fucking up Fae gifts in some way, and the punishment is usually something ironic but always results in the loss of the gift. It could be a faerie harp that makes everyone dance, and the Fae tell the giftee not to abuse it, but they cruelly force everyone to dance so long and so hard that the faerie returns, takes back the harp, and then takes the human's ability to ever make music again, so example (by taking fingers or eyes or tongues as well, often.)
So I think Mad Jack strikes a bargain for power - but, then tries to abuse that power (nuclear war). But part of the bargain is that the Fae cannot approach him directly ever again. In the real world, they therefore tempt him into the faerie ring and bind his soul there, problem solved - until the Doctor accidentally lets him out, and gets his own soul stuck. Ruby, therefore, becomes the instrument through which they manage to take that power away once again - and then, her final Fae gift for her service is that they use the temporal anomaly of the faerie ring to send her back, at the end of her life, and give her a second chance. This time, with Mad Jack's soul left bound in Annwfn.
The fun part is, RTD is a writer who understands the power of not explaining everything and leaving some things up to the viewer's imagination, so none of this is ever going to be explained lol. But yeah, that is a gwyll. The moment she appeared, I said out loud "Oh holy fuck, gwyllion." That was a gwyll.
As a final observation, I loved seeing Siân Phillips, and I choose to believe they filmed those scenes in a pub because they could only get Siân if they agreed to just come to her local. The woman is a queen.
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You and Joel both know how he got that virus on his computer, and you can’t help but to relentlessly tease him in more ways than one…until Joel’s had enough.
Alternatively, Joel should really stop clicking on links that Tommy emails him. (7.6k)
Tags - neighbor!joel, grumpy!joel, pre/no outbreak, porn watching, joel straight jorkin’ his peanits, teasing, lingerie, handjobs, upside down blowjobs (like what happened in spider man), rough sex, manhandling, oral (f receiving), come eating, fingering, overstim, soft dom!joel, porn watching, reader has a bush but is otherwise not described
Fic Help - @joeloverture, @joelsgreys, and @endlessthxxghts for their beautiful brains, and @noxturnalpascal and @beefrobeefcal for editing and patiently explaining dial up internet to me for this fic 🩷👾📀🖥️ Patti, I seriously cannot thank you enough. You made this fic fucking perfect.
A/N - sorry for the delay on getting joel out to you in a timely manner, he should be cumming a lot more frequently…maybe. I do have a vacation I’m leaving for in less than a week. Also, thank you for all the well wishes and participation on my anniversary/5k celebration, I love you all so very much 🩷
masterlist
You know what you came here for. Grumpy, technologically inept Joel fucking the daylights out of you below 👇🖥️🦠🛜👾😍🍑👅💦🍆
It's early evening on a Saturday and finally time for Joel to enjoy his day off. He spent the day doing yard work, grocery shopping, and chauffeuring his daughter to and from soccer games. Saturdays are never really very relaxing for him, so when he has a quiet moment, like right now, he takes advantage.
Joel draws the curtains closed in his kitchen as he stares at his computer setup and contemplates, even though his mind is already made up. It’s a sign - there’s a Victoria’s Secret coupon set that’s been sitting on his kitchen counter since this morning, addressed to you of course. Damn mailman can’t get anything right.
He sits down on the chair in front of the monitor and powers the machine on, opens the tower’s disc drive and inserts his AOL CD before opening the matching AOL application. He has a post-it taped to the bottom of a drawer next to him that he reads from every time to remember his username and password. Joel grumbles to himself as he unzips his jeans, something about ‘damn thing’s always takin’ too long to load’ as the screen goes from dialing to connecting to connected. Netscape takes even longer to load, but when it finally does Joel visits his favorite website, victoriassecret.com. He works his half-hard cock in one hand, feeling it stiffen in his palm as the screen loads slowly, images of lingerie-clad models coming to life bit by bit. Joel groans and squeezes himself.
He knows that jerking off to Victoria's Secret advertisements is juvenile at best. He knows other porn exists, he’s got old dirty Playboy magazines from his teenage years and even some bootleg VHS tapes that his brother Tommy copied for him. He’s tried to watch them, but they’re all sort of sterile and awkward, the dialogue fake and the women’s moans exaggerated and over the top, it takes him out of the fantasy. They can also only be played on the television in the living room, which is not ideal for a number of reasons.
Joel also knows that the women in these advertisements are not real, that they’re airbrushed and photoshopped to the point of looking like Barbie dolls. He knows that they have more curves and body hair than what he’s looking at on his screen, that they have cellulite, stretch marks, and all of the other things he loves on a woman’s body. But Joel is nothing but a man, and a lonely one at that. A hard worker and a dedicated father, he doesn’t have much time for dating. And importantly to Joel, Victoria’s Secret advertisements allow him to do something his dirty magazines and bootleg VHS tapes can’t - use his imagination.
Oh yes, Joel loves when a little mystery is left for him, to pique his interests. He loves to imagine what the model’s breasts look like, if they’re more round-shaped, or like tear drops. Would they hang heavy, swaying when she moved, or would they point outward, petite and perky? How dark or light are their nipples and what would they look like when hard? He loves to picture their vulvas, to visualize what their folds would look like spread in front of him, to envision how they maintain their pubic hair. He wonders what they look like when they’re wet, lips all swollen. It thrills him, excites him.
His eyes are squeezed shut and he’s pumping his cock when a loud email notification from [email protected] interrupts him. “Fuckin’ Tommy,” he mutters, clicking on the popup.
here’s this for your spank bank pervert
No greeting, no goodbye, nothing capitalized and no punctuation. Just one blue link and nothing else. Joel rolls his eyes but clicks the link anyway, more out of boredom than genuine curiosity.
Just like before, it takes a moment to load but when it finally does, Joel blushes. It’s a porn site where people appear to upload their own porn. It seems expansive, all sorts of categories. Immediately, Joel’s intrigued - he didn’t realize that this kind of stuff was available online. He guesses that he probably should have known that, but rationalizes that he doesn’t use the internet much. His computer is meant for a few things - playing Microsoft Pinball, emailing clients, and browsing Victoria's Secret during times like this. But this - this might’ve just changed the game.
From the thumbnails, these appear to be real people. People of all ages, from young adults to older lovers. Nudity plastered across his screen in all different shapes and sizes, a variety of lengths and cup sizes before him. There are people consensually exploring kinks and couples in love, everyone engaging in a variety of different sexual acts from solo stuff to threesomes to orgies. This has it all, gay, straight, and everything in between. After scrolling through, Joel notices that there’s a little magnifying glass to search for whatever one may fancy. Joel clicks on this and he first searches ‘boobs’. Then ‘big boobs’, ‘small boobs’, ‘blowjobs’, ‘doggy style’. With each search term he types in, the screen loads with various videos of his request. And then, just for shits and giggles, he searches for his favorite - ‘lingerie’.
The results are everything he dreamed of. Forget Victoria’s Secret, this has it all. Women of different sizes and skin tones, all in various stages of undress. Some wearing bras and panties, others wearing lace babydolls and teddies. One particular thumbnail has his interest piqued, though. It’s a woman in a robe, leaning towards the camera so her cleavage is showing. “Let me strip tease you ;)” is the title of her video.
CLICK HERE TO WATCH.
She doesn’t need to tell Joel twice. Joel clicks the link and watches a little popup on his screen indicate that a video is downloading. Once downloaded, he opens the file and begins to watch the video. The woman featured is cute, he thinks. She’s a curvy redhead and she’s teasing, smiling - he likes that. Those Victoria's Secret models don’t smile like this. She lifts her lacy pink robe and shows her ass where there’s a cute little heart-shaped peekaboo cutout in her panties. Joel likes that too. Joel’s been absentmindedly stroking himself and he sighs in contentment. She’s about to open her robe, show him her breasts and–
Windows System Alert
Error Code: 0x80070070
Your computer has encountered a critical issue due to a potentially harmful program. This issue has affected system files and may cause instability or loss of data.
Please take the following actions immediately:
Save all work in progress.
Disconnect from the internet.
Run a full system scan with your security software.
For further assistance, contact technical support.
“Well, that ain’t right,” Joel mumbles. Joel clicks on the little red X in the top right corner to make it disappear, but the popup is right back where it was, blocking that cute redhead from giving Joel a virtual show. He tries closing the message again, it pops right back up. Growing slightly irritated, Joel closes the media player altogether and reopens the downloaded strip tease video. It won’t open. “The fuck?” He tries opening an old untitled document from months ago, and yet again he’s met with the same error message. The popup is arriving in multiples now, blocking his screen. It’s like whack-a-mole, the way he’s closing one and two more pop up in its place.
Joel’s out of his depth here, so he decides to consult an expert. He lives right across the street from a total computer whiz, so he’ll ask her for help. He tucks himself back into his jeans with a soft groan, zips and buttons his jeans before making his way to her house.
-
You’re vacuuming your floor when you think you hear the faint sound of knocking, so you turn around to see a figure standing on your porch through your window. It’s Joel. Devastatingly handsome, grumpy, single dad.
You and Joel got off to a rocky start when you moved into the neighborhood a couple years back. He used to hound you about letting your grass grow too long, and you’d argue back by telling him that it’s good for the environment. Growing tired of your protesting, Joel decided to start mowing your lawn for you, without your consent. Not that you really minded, he always wears his grass-stained white and navy New Balance sneakers, his few-inches-too-short denim cutoffs and an old white tank top, stained with grease and his own sweat. It clings to his body, outlining his soft belly. His slightly graying but dark, damp curls cling to his perspiring forehead as his thick thighs clench with every step he takes, pushing that heavy lawnmower up and down your front yard. You compensate him with glasses of fresh squeezed lemonade, offer him a cool wash rag that he wipes his forehead with, the sweat and water dripping down his temple, over the stubble on his jaw. Tensions softened then, and Joel’s been a nice neighbor to have ever since. He, his brother and daughter are good people.
You tap the button on the bottom of your vacuum cleaner with your toe, shutting it off before opening the door for Joel. He looks a little disheveled - he’s breathing heavily, pupils blown wide. “You busy right now?”
“For you? You know I’m always too busy,” you smirk, tapping your foot against his shoe.
“Yeah, whatever. Listen, I’m findin’ myself in need of your computer expertise. Would you be able to help me, darlin’?”
It’s the way Joel calls you darlin’, how he flashes those sparkling, chocolate eyes at you, bats his long lashes and smiles at you in such a way that you’re sure he’s deliberately trying to send you to an early grave. You’re wrapped around Joel’s finger but nevertheless, you work your angle. “My time is precious, Joel. How will you make it worth my while?”
Joel rolls his eyes, “Oh, give me a break. I’ll mow your lawn. Does that work for you, princess?”
“You already mow my lawn.”
“Yeah, and I’ll keep mowin’ it. How’s that?”
“Cheap,” you quip. But you still smile and close the door behind you, and Joel blushes as you unknowingly take the hand Joel was just pleasuring himself with in yours, swinging your arms between you playfully as you cross the street to his house together. Your skin tickles when Joel places a hand on your lower back, guiding you to his computer setup before pulling out the chair for you. You log into his computer using his own username and password, something you know by heart. Joel has forgotten his password so many times, he used to call you - at a minimum - twice a week to ask you what it was. The only solution to that issue was for you to write it down on a post-it note and stick it next to the monitor for him. He absolutely hates that you’ve made him put dollar signs and exclamation marks in his password. “Seems unnecessary,” is what he would say, annoyance lacing his tone.
You retorted with, “Well if you can’t even get into your own computer, how could anyone else?” and Joel shrugged and nodded.
Joel pours both himself and you a glass of ice water, then sits down at the dining room table behind you. “So it’s uhh…” he starts, interrupting himself to sip his water. “Got this error message thing when you click on a file.”
Clicking a file, you see the error popup Joel’s referring to. “I see,” you mumble, clicking on a few others. Joel watches your brows furrow in concentration, a frown painting your lips.
Oh, shit. Joel didn’t even think to delete that file. “W-what is it? Why’re you makin’ that face?”
“I’m diagnosing.”
Right. Of course you are. You haven’t seen anything you’re not supposed to see, because it’s not like the files would magically start opening for your eyes only. Right? “What’s the verdict, doc?” Joel jokes, hoping you don’t hear the way his voice wobbles slightly with anxiety.
You suck in a breath through your teeth, “Not good,” you reply. “All of your files are corrupted, I thin–”
Joel interrupts, “What’s that, what’s corrupted? Is that bad?”
“Your turn,” you interrupt back, cocking an eyebrow at his impoliteness. It’s very unlike him.
“M’sorry, hon. Go ‘head, sorry.”
Joel needs to get it together. He’s fidgety and high-strung. He needs to calm down. It’s fine. It will be fine. You’re gonna work your magic and you’re not gonna see anything you’re not supposed to see. When you’re done, you’re gonna go home and Joel will go right back to his private time as previously scheduled - that’s probably what his biggest problem is, he’s blue-balled himself and he’s all wound-up. Problem will be fixed, easy peasy.
“When did you say this problem started again?”
“Uh, just a little bit ago,” Joel answers, walking over to the sink and getting himself a glass of water. “Thirsty?”
“No, thanks. What websites do you visit?”
Joel watches you browse his files and mess with the system preferences on his computer. “The weather mostly, or Amazon.. Orderin’ books for Sarah.” Which is a total lie, but he justifies this in his head by telling himself that you don’t need to know what website he visits the most. It’ll embarrass you both. And actually, Sarah prefers to go to the library. She even went today.
“Anything else?”
Joel lies again, “Check the news from time to time, check my team’s scores.”
You hum in response and continue typing. Joel wishes he could type like that, watching your fingers effortlessly fly across the keyboard. He likes the sound it makes, the quiet clicking and the tapping of your manicured fingernails. “What about emails, you avoiding those scams I told you about?”
“Yes.”
“Clicking on chainmail?”
“I am not.”
“Not anymore,” you mumble under your breath. Joel rolls his eyes. You’ll never let it go, will you?
-
Chainmail is how you became Joel’s IT girl. For a couple of months, you’d received various emails from him that were just copy-paste chainmail messages. You know, the ones that say things like ‘Click here to verify your account information. Send to 10 friends and family members to verify their accounts as well.’ You’d just delete, delete, delete, and reply back asking him to stop emailing you these things. But Joel never stopped, day after day he’d send you chainmail. After receiving what felt like the eightieth spam email from [email protected], you decided to confront him.
Joel awoke from an accidental afternoon nap to rather incessant knocking coming from his front door. He opened it only to find you on his porch, where you then proceeded to invite yourself inside. “What happened to hello?” he asked, his voice all sexy and raspy and his eyes tired, lines indenting his face from laying on the couch. He yawned, running his fingers through his curls to try and tame the bed head. You wondered if he always looked this handsome when he woke up.
“Sorry, hi,” you corrected. “Need to borrow your computer. Please.”
Yawning again, Joel sleepily gestured to his computer in the kitchen. “Knock yourself out. Damn thing ain’t actin’ right, though.”
You powered the machine on logged in using the post-it taped to his wall, rolling your eyes and shaking your head. Upon logging in and connecting to the internet, you noticed all sorts of glitches. Not even your computer ran consistently smoothly, but Joel’s was a wreck. Popups and error messages of all different kinds littered the screen, blocking the cute picture of himself and Sarah he had set as the background. “Wow, I couldn’t tell,” you teased. “You have more errors than you do applications on this thing, Joel.” Joel only shrugged in response. “Come sit by me,” you said.
Joel pulled up a seat next to you. “I wanna show you something. Can I open your email?”
“Go right ahead, hon.”
You opened Joel’s email and found his ‘sent’ box, where the last sent email was addressed to you. You clicked it and it opened to his last sent piece of chainmail. “I’ve asked you to stop sending me these emails,” you told him.
Joel looked crushed almost, a look of puzzlement and what might’ve been hurt momentarily painting his features. “You have?”
“I have.”
The chainmail on the screen was a common one he’d send you, the one asking you to give up your information to protect yourself. “I was only tryin’ to be neighborly. I thought you’d like ‘em, y’know - want you to keep yourself safe.”
It was endearing, the way he explained himself. How he wanted you to stay safe. Your frustration dissipated, only to be renewed as you looked in his spam folder to find all of your replies to him in there instead of his main inbox. “Joel, why am I in your spam folder?” you asked, sighing. Joel simply shrugged and you didn’t even have words. By the look on his face, he probably didn’t even realize he had a spam folder, much less knew what one was. But you had greater concerns. “What are those emails supposed to keep me safe from?”
“Well, from…” Joel’s mouth hung open as he thought about it, looked up and to the side as he began to realize he didn’t have an answer. “Uhh–”
“You don’t know, do you?” Joel shook his head. “Exactly. It’s called phishing, these emails you’ve been sending me aren’t real. They’re trying to get peoples’ personal information, like, look–” you pointed to the screen, showing Joel an example, “See? Here, it’s asking for your bank information.”
“And I wasn’t ‘sposed to give them that?”
You tilted your head in disappointment, “Joel.”
Joel groaned and leaned back in his chair, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Yeah, I know. Fuckin’ idiot.”
You were about to tell him to call his bank, but he was already on it. He pulled his Nokia phone from his belt clip and called his bank to explain the situation. As you went through his inbox and deleted each and every one of the hinky-looking emails, you listened to Joel on the phone.
“Didn’t realize there were these uh…email scams…Yeah, that charge was me. And that too…
…Will you call me f’ya see anything suspicious? Okay.
…Okay. Thank you, ma’am. Thank you. You too.”
From what you heard of the phone call, it seemed that he was safe. You guessed that Joel’s technological ineptitude is probably what had saved him, that he likely mistyped or misunderstood what the scam was attempting to do. You continued to delete scams and other malware-adjacent things from his computer as Joel hung up the phone call and sat back down with you. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, s’all good.”
Joel looked shaken, though. You touched his hand sympathetically and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You’re gonna learn some internet safety today.”
“Figured. I need it.”
“Yeah, you do,” you smiled. You went through his email, pointing out all the different scams. You told him not to click on links that look like this and that. This is a scam, this is too. You told him that anything attempting to sell fireworks, guns, or anything else at the low, low price of x amount isn’t real. And no, these emails here do not mean that you won a new TV or the lottery or a cruise. Anything that seems too good to be true definitely is. “...Actually,” you began, “All of these are from Tommy. New rule, don’t click on anything from Tommy.”
“Noted,” Joel replied. “I didn’t know any ‘a this.”
“Most people don’t. It’s new, yet. But you know now, so it’s okay.”
Joel breathed a sigh of relief, but he still looked overwhelmed. This time he took your hand and squeezed it. After a moment, he asked you where you learned all of this from. You explained you picked a lot of it up in school, just learning things here and there. Joel let you talk about it all and seemed genuinely interested and impressed.
“I went through and fixed all that was giving you trouble, by the way. Your computer should be running smoother,” you said. “And I changed your password. ‘abcde’ is not a good password, Joel.”
From that day forward, you became Joel's official computer girl. He’d call you and have you help him when he couldn’t get his computer connected to the printer, when he screwed with the settings and the computer didn’t look or act the way he was used to. Even the most basic things, like whenever he had a new picture of himself and Sarah he wanted to change the background to. Not that you minded, you’d jump at any opportunity to poke fun at your handsome neighbor’s lack of computer knowledge.
-
“Did you click on any links from Tommy?”
Joel goes quiet at that, remembering your very specific rule to not engage with him over email. He looks down at his hands as he twiddles his thumbs together. “I might’ve…one or two, maybe”
“What kind of links?”
“There– Fuck, I don’t know. You know, just…websites. They take me to websites. But I don’t give ‘em my information,” he insists.
“What’s on these websites?”
Joel thinks fast. “Truckparts,” he answers too quickly, and the two words come out as one. “Just truck parts,” he says again, slower.
“Well, you must’ve been looking at some sketchy truck parts. You’ve got a virus.”
“Okay,” he says. “Figured as much. But you’ve fixed those before for me, haven’t you?”
“I have, but this one means business,” you reply, shaking your head. You start to type a bit, click the mouse as you go through and attempt to delete corrupted files, but it’s not working the way it should. You open Netscape and check the browsing history to see if that can clue you in as to what website could have done this to Joel’s computer. “You said it just started?”
“Just started, yeah,” Joel affirms.
Which…tracks.
Today, Saturday, June 25, 2003
5:06 pm https://xxxmyvideos.com/lingerie
4:54 pm https://xxxmyvideos.com/doggy-style
4:50 pm https://xxxmyvideos.com/blowjobs
4:49 pm https://xxxmyvideos.com/small-boobs
4:49 pm https://xxxmyvideos.com/big-boobs
4:45 pm https://xxxmyvideos.com/home
His search history is nothing but porn, which you’re 99% sure is exactly what caused the virus. The time stamps all show that the site was visited within the last hour, and Joel says it just started, so…
“What’re you lookin’ at?”
“Well,” you say, hesitating before answering fully. “I am looking at your search history.”
Joel stares at the monitor like a deer in the headlights. “There’s - my uh…” he swallows thickly, “They keep records of that?”
“Mhm.”
“Well I told you - just….lookin’ at parts,” Joel’s hand wobbles slightly as he sips on his water.
“Yeah, lady parts.”
Joel sputters on his drink, choking and coughing as he slams the glass down and water spills everywhere. He uses the bottom of his t-shirt to clean his mess as he begins to turn red, feeling his chest and neck and cheeks begin to warm. He can’t even look at you, but he hears your giggles and he can picture your smug grin and he wishes so badly he was dead right now. You’ve seen it all, you know everything. You know it and so does he. He’s gaining the courage to look at you and oh god - you’re scrolling through the dirty website. Giggling, you’re looking at everything he looked at, fucking everything. You’re seeing the same dicks he saw, the same pussies, seeing the purple links that indicate exactly what he’s already clicked on. “Yeah, laugh it up,” he says angrily, defensively. “Ain’t that funny.”
Joel’s world is ending, but it’s really not as bad as he thinks it is. The porn is tamer than what’s often found on the internet, much tamer than the shit you watch. You continue to explore the site as you listen to Joel tell on himself behind you.
“It’s just somethin’ to pass the time,” he says. “It’s natural, alright? And I know you do it too.” He’s deflecting. Even still, he’s not wrong, you certainly do take part.
You just let him keep talking, relishing in having the upper hand in this situation. “You’re blushing,” you tell him when he quiets down, just to get him started and riled up again as you browse the site. You notice a lot of videos are duplicates, prompting users to download the same thumbnail uploaded by different usernames. Whatever Joel clicked on was probably not uploaded by a real person, though. He clocked on a gibberish username made up of random letters and numbers, unlike some other videos uploaded under actual names. Like Joel’s new found friend ‘cherry_girl_xo’, whose username link is purple. You smirk at that, turning around to look at Joel who definitely recognizes her. He’s bright red everywhere.
You’re sure this website is the culprit, but you check the rest of his search history to see if any other clue lies in there, but see nothing of import. All you notice are various links to victoriassecret.com, over and over and over again. Based on that and his last searched term on that shady porn site, you can safely assume he’s got a thing for lingerie. Which - funnily enough, you’re wearing right now. Not the kind of lingerie Joel’s been beating off to, but similar. You’re wearing your laciest undergarments, a lavender colored bra with a matching thong. They’re your laundry day underwear, you know the kind - five years old and been sitting at the bottom of your underwear drawer untouched for four of those years, not very comfortable and only to be worn when you’ve just gotten off your period and all of your cotton bikinis and boyshorts are in the wash. That kind.
After toying with Joel’s computer for a while longer while he twists uncomfortably in agonizing humiliation, you decide there’s not much else that can be done. “I think we have to wipe it all, Joel,” you tell him. “Delete everything and start fresh.”
Joel nods quietly. “Will I still be able to play pinball after?”
“Yeah, I’ll make sure you can play pinball,” you chuckle.
“Wipe it, then.”
And so you start the process, which will take a long while. The screen loads and loads as you and Joel wait quietly. You look at Joel, who’s got an elbow on the table as he rests his forehead in his palm. “What?” he snaps, noticing you staring at him. You can’t fight the giggles from erupting. “Would you quit fuckin’ gigglin’ like that? You know that a man’s got needs and I ain’t hurtin’ anyone–” You contort your lips into a forced frown, pressing them into a thin line and then covering your mouth to keep your laughter at bay, but you’re struggling. Joel can see the amusement still sparkling in your eyes and says your name in a warning tone.
“I’m sorry,” you smile, raising your hands in surrender. “I won’t laugh. I’m sorry, Joel.”
“Better be,” he grumbles. He drinks the last of his water quietly as you think about something, something that’s been heavy on your mind for the last couple of minutes. What if Joel knew what you were wearing beneath your clothes? You’ve made this afternoon absolute hell for him and you know that - but you don’t care. You’ve had too much fun getting under his skin to stop now.
The real dirty work begins when you unzip your sweatshirt and hang it over the back of your chair. When Joel looks at you, you bring your hand to your shoulder and gently pull up on your bra strap, letting it snap your shoulder.
Joel shifts in his seat and clears his throat, “You warm or somethin’?”
“Yeah, it’s a little hot in here.”
“Mm,” Joel spins his now empty glass between his thumb and pointer finger. When he looks back at you, he flips the glass. You’ve pulled the top of your tank top down, your lacy bra and cleavage on full display. He tries to make two moves at once, catch the rolling glass and cover his crotch because he’s just gone erect. “Cute. I would appreciate it if you’d knock that off now, I get the picture. S’real funny,” he mutters as he scrambles.
“What picture?” you ask innocently.
“Oh, don’t you start. You know exactly what damn picture,” Joel snaps. “You figured it out. Got a certain fondness for ladies in lace. You feel clever or somethin’?”
You really can’t bite back your smile this time, “Mhm.”
“You shouldn’t. You’re exploitin’ my vulnerabilities, takin’ cheap shots and–” Joel’s jaw drops as he watches you unbutton your jean shorts and show off your panties, the little bow at the center of them nicely on display. His look of shock quickly turns into a glare as you take off your tank top. “Like that, that’s playin’ dirty. Put your shirt back on and zip yourself back up. What the hell’s gotten into you?”
“I dunno,” you shrug. You really don’t. This is just as surprising to you as it is to Joel, but the look on his face tells you that you’re definitely having way more fun than he is.
“God, you’re killin’ me,” he groans. The way you’re so cavalier about this all has Joel both flummoxed and irate.
But you’re not this bold usually, not really. Joel must not have noticed the way your hands have been trembling, must not have heard your slightly shaky breaths. He’s been avoiding eye contact too much to notice you’ve been doing the same. “Why?”
“Why? Cause I’m only a man and you’re gettin’ me all worked up. You’re takin’ advantage of me and my biology,” Joel gestures angrily to his crotch. He’s not even bothering to hide it anymore - you’ve seen it all and know what you’ve done to him. “You proud?”
“You’re–”
“Yeah, I’m fuckin’ hard - been hard. Didn’t get to take care of myself ‘cause of the fuckin’ virus and here you are teasin’ and temptin’ me and…Hon, what’re you -” Joel’s angered expression turns to momentary confusion when you stand up, then turns to contentment when you straddle his lap. You press your core into his thick bulge, holding onto his shoulders for stability. “What are you doin’?” he sighs, his head falling backward.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “For teasing.”
“Yeah, so you say, princess.”
You grind yourself on his lap and when Joel brings his head forward to search for your eyes, he notices how your eyes flicker away from his. Like maybe you’re not as in control of this situation as you appear to be.
“I am.”
“Mm,” Joel hums. You’re reaching between your bodies and fumbling with the button on his jeans. He sucks in his soft belly to unbutton them for you, wraps his strong hand around your wrist and brings your hand to his mouth. “Gimme this,” he mumbles, spitting into your hand before he shoves it under the waistband of his boxers. A pang of arousal floods your gut at the action.
You palm his warm, heavy cock, feeling him thicken in your hand, though he’s already so hard. You can feel his rigid member throb and ache as you work his shaft up and down, up and down, your knuckles brushing against his thatch of coarse curls and his tummy. It’s evident how much he’s needed this, what with the way his chest rises and falls with his heavy breaths, soft groans escaping his lips as he does so.
Joel enjoys himself as you work him. “Fuck,” he whispers. You look down between your bodies to admire his member, the blushed, leaking tip and the thick and prominent veins. And he’s so smooth, his skin almost silky. You watch his blissed out face, contemplate kissing those pink, pouting lips of his. You’re gonna do it, bringing your face close to his. Brushing your lips ever so softly over his, Joel moves to kiss you fully when you pull back. His computer makes that signature Windows startup sound,
“I have to take care of that,” you murmur. You dismount Joel and he picks up where you leave off, stroking his own cock just like you were. He watches your nearly naked body with hooded eyes that flutter shut as you work, typing quietly on his keyboard. You set his username and password the same, make sure that things open as they should. For Joel’s own protection, you block [email protected].
“Finished?” Joel asks as you stand up from your seat in front of his computer.
“Mhm,” you reply, gripping his shoulder with your hand as you bend over halfway to pick up your discarded top and kiss his cheek. “Have fun with your Victoria’s Secret girls, Joel.”
Your work here is done. You’ve fixed Joel’s computer and by the look on his face, broken his heart. “What are you doing?”
You smile, too proud of yourself as you begin to walk away. Before you can walk further, Joel stands up and reaches across the table, grabbing you by the forearm and forcing you onto your back. “You ain’t gettin’ away from me that easy, princess,” he says. “I still got somethin’ that needs fixed.” Joel displays strength but is as gentle as can be, though the cold, hard wood against your spine and your shoulder blades hurt you for a moment. Your eyes widen in shock, but it’s a welcome pain. “Knew you weren’t fuckin’ sorry,” Joel spits. Your head dangles off the edge of the table and Joel uses a hand to open your mouth, forcing two of his thick fingers inside. Instinctually, you curl your tongue around the digits, sucking and licking. You can taste his cock on his fingers from when he was pleasuring himself just moments ago.
Joel pumps himself in his hand for a second before guiding his thick head to your lips, pushing past them in one quick thrust, right to the back of your throat so you gag. He likes that noise. “I give you an inch,” he grunts, “And you take a mile.” You slide your tongue over those thick veins of his you’d previously traced with your fingertips. Joel draws out of your mouth slowly, allowing you to lick his weeping slit before pushing himself back in. “It would’ve been courteous of you to keep my dirty secret to yourself, but you couldn’t even do that. Went an’ humiliated me instead, then you got the nerve to try ‘n leave me high and dry? I don’t think I deserve that.”
Joel wants to fuck your mouth until your lips are raw and swollen, show you just what he thinks of your stunt. But he demonstrates self control, allows you to take him at your own pace and yet, you continue to tease. It’s like it’s innate or something, the way you continue to only give little by little, savoring the saltiness of his precome. He gives you one last warning, “You really should learn when to quit while you’re ahead, hon.”
You persist anyway. Wrong move. Joel fucks himself into your mouth with no regard for your comfort, taking what he needs from you. It’s sloppy and messy, his heavy balls bouncing off the tip of your nose. You wish you could see him, see the way he’d glare at you. He’s flipped like a switch, previously holding himself back from having his way with you like he wanted to. He’s taking it now. All the softness in him is gone, and you fucking love it. You reach forward, sliding your hand down your stomach, dipping it beneath your panties. You spread your legs wide and your fingers hover over your pussy, feeling that wet heat radiating from your core. Just as you let your fingers drop to touch your aching clit, you feel Joel lunge forward and pull your hand away. “Nuh-uh, not where I eat. Where are your manners, princess?”
He fucks your mouth relentlessly, holding the sides of your head in his big hands. He watches the way your lace-covered tits bounce with his every thrust. He pushes himself deeper and deeper, ignoring your sputtering and choking on his cock. Your eyes prick with tears as your jaw begins to ache, really fucking ache. Joel doesn’t stop himself, and it’s not like he would if he knew you were crying like this. He fills the air with his own grunting and groaning, relishing in the warmth of your wet, soft mouth.
And then he’s done. No slowing to a standstill, just abruptly pulls out. You hear his heavy footsteps as he rounds the kitchen table, hooks his fingertips beneath the waistband of your shorts and pulls them down, pulls your hips close to his so your face is no longer dangling off the edge. He pulls your panties to the side, drags his thumb up and down your slick folds and it’s like the quiet before the storm.
He notches himself in your entrance and pushes himself in, inch by inch by inch. Slowly, deliberately, so that you feel all of the stretching and aching he wants you to. “Joel,” you cry. “Fuck, Joel, please, I can’t–”
“You’ll get used to it,” he purrs. He leans over you as he fucks you slowly, holding your neck with his thumb on your jawbone while he kisses you to quiet you down, licking into your mouth and swirling his tongue around with yours. You whimper softly into his mouth with his every thrust, the pain not yet completely dissipated, but pleasurable in its own way. “Spread your legs. Wider.”
You open yourself up for him, allowing him to fuck himself deeper into you. You accept it all as he wraps your legs around his waist, your heels bouncing on his ass. The head of his cock kisses that sweet spot inside of you, pleasure beginning to take over your senses and you moan. “Fuck, Joel.”
“Feels good, don’t it? Maybe this whole virus fiasco was a blessing in disguise, darlin’,” Joel says, “Feels good f’me too.”
You cry out loudly when he puts your legs up on his shoulders, the new angle has him inside you even deeper than before. He sits you up a bit, putting your arms behind your back and pressing your palms down flat on the table with his own.
He draws out of you and fills you up again, over and over and over. “Fuck, look at us,” he kisses your ankle a couple of times, “Look,” Joel looks down where your bodies meet and you join him, watching how his cock slides in and out of you, all wet and coated in your slick. Panties still pulled to the side, your skin is irritated where the fabric tugs and scratches at your skin. He maintains a quick rhythm, rolling his hips into yours.
“Make me come, Joel, I want to come.”
“Oh, I’ve got no doubt you do. But maybe I’ll leave you high and dry like you were gonna do to me, see how you like it. What a waste that’d be, huh?” You whine at the threat and Joel smiles deviously, he likes having you at his mercy like this. All pathetic and begging for him to let you come undone. “You’re nothin’ but talk, aren’t you?”
“Make me come, please.”
“You’ll have to convince me,” he says. “You heard me, convince me. Better make it quick.”
Your brain is short-circuiting, you can’t even process what Joel said and begin to make your case. You feel him twitching, his hips stuttering and before you know it, he’s spilling into you. He paints your insides with his hot spend, milking himself entirely in your cunt and your disappointment is incalculable. Tears of frustration well up and threaten to spill down your cheeks. It was all fun and games before, but you suddenly feel so used and betrayed. You can’t say he didn’t warn you.
“Ohh, I know,” he coos, wiping your eyes. “Bit off more than you could chew, didn’t you?”
You nod, sniffling quietly.
“You can still convince me. I’m all ears, ya know.”
“How?”
“Well,” Joel says. He’s beginning to soften inside of you, and so he pulls out with a soft ‘fuck’, his spend spilling out of you and onto his table. “Can start with an ‘I’m sorry, Joel’. And I want a real one this time.”
“I’m sorry, Joel.”
“S’a good start. Wanna give me some more? Tell me why?”
“F-for teasing you and stuff.”
“For teasing me and stuff,” he repeats your words slowly. Joel pulls off his t-shirt and folds it tightly, places it at the end of the table and lowers your head onto it. “You’re lucky you’re pretty.”
Joel kneels before you and wraps his arms around your thighs. He presses a kiss over your cloth-covered core, feeling the dampness of your arousal and his spend on his lips. He spreads your legs wide, exposing your wet cunt for him, lips all swollen and ribbons of his spend clinging to your folds. He admires the thick curls framing your pussy, “I gotcha,” he whispers. “C’mere.”
You gasp when Joel finally, finally begins to explore you, his tongue parting open your folds. He pulls back and pushes one, then two fingers inside you, humming in satisfaction at the way you suck him in, so eager and needy for his touch. He curls his fingers inside of you slowly, watching how you react to his touch. You twitch and jerk as you try to keep yourself still.
“Oh, Joel,” you moan as he laps at your cunt, feeling that warm, sticky feeling flow through your hips. His mouth and fingers work together to bring you closer to your edge, humming as he rhythmically strokes that sweet spot inside of you. His tongue is so hot, wet, and firm as he drags it up and down your sex, circling your clit with the muscle. “Mmm, fuck. Oh, god.”
Joel doesn’t know what’s more satisfying, the sweet taste of this most private place between your thighs or the sounds of your pleasure as he eats you. He devours you voraciously, sucking one fold and nipping at the other as he curls his fingers, never faltering in their movements. With his free hand that’s not teasing your pussy, he reaches around and pulls the hood of your clit back to suck and lick the sensitive bud. His dark, slightly graying and wiry stubble drags across the skin of your inner thighs, scratching you gently. It’s building up quickly, that familiar feeling deep in your spine.
“I’m–” a moan rips through your chest and interrupts you, “Fuck, I’m–”
“I know, hon,” he whispers, escalating his efforts. He sucks, licks, and curls his fingers harder, feeling the slow build of you beginning to come apart for him. You come on his lips and spill into his hand as Joel works you through your orgasm. You’re a gushing, moaning mess, your hands fly to his scalp and you tug on his soft curls when he licks a stripe up the seam of your cunt. And then another, slower. Another yet, even slower.
You expect him to pull away from your center with a satisfied grin, his mustache and beard dampened by your slick. But he stays put, licking more long stripes up and down your pussy. Your thighs twitch and flutter uncontrollably and Joel holds you apart for him as he continues to tease, circling the tip of his perfect, aquiline nose around your clit.
“Too much, it’s too much,” you cry.
“Mhm. But you got one more in you, I know you do.”
“Joel–”
You think you might break. You’re not sure where you feel Joel’s tongue, you just feel him fucking everywhere. You don’t know where your orgasm begins and ends, just that by the time Joel decides you’re done, you’re in sweet agony and he luxuriates in the taste of your second release. He’s made such a pretty mess of you. He presses one last kiss to your core, “Yeah, that was a good one, wasn’t it?”
Joel pulls away from your center, wiping his lips on your thighs. His cheeks are flushed and his dark eyes sparkle. He lets you catch your breath as he fills a glass of water for you and brings it to your lips helping you to drink as your hands are still trembling from it all.
When the moment passes, you gather your clothes. You pull on your tank top and put your shorts back on. “Oh,” you say.
“Hm?”
“I blocked Tommy’s email, just so you know. He’s trouble.”
Joel chuckles. “You, my darlin’, are trouble. But that’s probably for the best, thank you for fixin’ my computer again.”
“It’s no problem,” you reply.
“Oh–” Joel grabs something from his stack of mail on his countertop and hands it to you. It’s some Victoria’s Secret coupons.“This was addressed to you. Ended up in my mail. Fuckin’ mail guy.”
You giggle quietly, what a curmudgeon he is. “Actually, I think you need it more than I do. You can beat off to your angels in analog,” you tease.
Joel rolls his eyes. “You just don’t learn, do you?” he says, taking the coupons back from you. “And actually, think I will hang on to this. Maybe I’ll even buy you somethin’ pretty an’ we can do this again soon.”
If you enjoyed, please reblog, comment, send me an ask, just tell me something nice <3 your words keep me motivated to write.
#strang3lov3#joel miller x reader#joel miller smut#pedro pascal#joel miller x you#joel miller#the last of us#the last of us hbo#joel x reader#joel the last of us#grumpy joel#joel miller fanfic#joel miller fanfiction#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal smut
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Just a silly little request👉👈
Do u think fem!reader likes to wear crop top with no bra and Miguel's boxer. You two are just flirting and teasing each other until Miguel decided to toss the remote to reader for movie night and reflex, she tries to catch it reveal her tits and Miguel just "😳... Nice catch..." And smut if u want. Having his hands speezing them I'm going insane 😭😭
Just One Touch
a/n: this ask has been in my inbox for so long and ur not gonna believe what got me out of my month long stump to write this. everyone thank sir-mix-a-lot's song "ride" it possessed me and gave me energy.
excuse the crappy writing, i'm still lowk having writers block so it's not my greatest work. please enjoy and as alwayssss i can rewrite this if you'd like <3
Art: mar_mar0u on instagram !
Unedited btw, plz dont crucify me ill die :(
It wasn’t unusual for you and Miguel to wind down after the sun had set. Movie night was a must, whether it was cheesy romcoms for you to sob to, horror movies for Miguel to be annoyed at, or even action movies to make fun of–as long as it was together.
Still, Miguel teased you by holding the remote up above his head and out of your reach. He grins with one hand on his hip and watches you reach up with no progress in sight.
“Give it!” You laugh, trying to keep your anger believable.
“No, first you take my clothes and I know you’re gonna pick one of those creepy knock off animated movies.” He chuckles and he walks off. Due to the size difference, every step of his was three of yours–practically chasing after him.
“Put respect on Over the Hedge’s name! It’s not even a knock off!”
Miguel plops on the couch on one side with a huff of laughter. “Fine, fine. Here–take it!” He throws the remote above your head and you pause and stumble back.
You reach high up to grab the remote. “You asshole!” You laugh. The remote hits your fingertips and bounces a bit farther back. Your crop top rides and flows up as you lean back onto one foot to finally grasp the device in your hand.
Miguel could feel everything happen in slow motion. The small glimpse of your underboob before your nipples finally come into view. The grin on Miguel’s face slowly drops and he could feel drool slipping from his lips. He watched your boobs bounce, the roundness of your flesh and perky buds making his cheeks go red. He can’t help the disappointment in his face when your arms fall back down, shirt hiding the glorious view of your tits.
“Caught it!” You smirk at him triumphantly. His eyes continue to glance at your tits.
“Yeah, uh…” He gulps. “Nice catch.” He adjusts his shorts, hoping his growing bulge wasn’t too apparent.
You don’t notice, too engrossed in your victory and making Miguel speechless. So, you crawl in his lap, Miguel’s hands suspended in mid-air as you nestle yourself in his arms. You feel his muscles surround you like a warm comfortable blanket, leaning your back on his firm chest while you click the buttons to turn on the TV.
“So what are we picking this time?” You ask, flipping through random trailers to find what you’re looking for.
“Huh? Oh, uh, anything’s fine.” Miguel shrugs half-heartedly. He’s too focused looking down at your crop top. Slowly and gingerly, his fingers caress your stomach–light and feathery as if trying to be discreet.
“Yeah sure, whatever. Don’t complain if you don’t like it.” You laugh softly, clicking on a random movie that looked good enough.
“Mhm.” Miguel mumbles, not even hiding his disinterest in a damn movie right now. While your eyes are on the opening scene on the TV, Miguel’s eyebrows scrunch together, his lips into a tight line as he resists his urges.
He can’t help it though. He gets handsy, Miguel carefully caressing your stomach. You barely notice it since the two of you always get snuggled up like this.
You only notice when he hikes higher up, his hips shifting slightly while his fingers run up and down the valley of your tits. You smack his arm around your waist with the remote.
“What are you doing?” You ask, trying to sound annoyed but the smile seeps through your tone.
“Nuthin’” He murmurs. Miguel then feels the curve of your breast, his fingers itching for a squeeze.
“We’re supposed to be bonding.” You move to turn your head up at him. You try to meet his eyes but he stays glued downwards to your chest.
“We are.” Miguel insists, his lips slightly parted. His thumb swipes across your nipple and you gasp, feeling your cheeks burn. He can feel the nub perk up and his tongue darts out to lick his lips, biting his bottom lip to hide the satisfied smile on his face.
Miguel takes his chances, bending down to kiss along your neck, tugging you closer to him and making you melt. His body moves against yours and your eyes flutter shut. His mouth gently sucks and licks your skin and you shiver. Miguel grabs your left tit, the plump flesh squeezed in his palm. His fingers flick your nipple, circling around before gently twisting it.
You back arches and you moan. “Ah–fuck, Miguel!” You hissed, a burning heat crawling up your neck. Your hand lifts up to curl in his hair while he attacks your neck, his other hand running down to his boxers you were wearing. He slips his fingers in the front hole of the boxers, using his index and middle fingers to spread your folds apart. You feel him nip your neck with a smile as he smears your slick around your clit.
He then uses both of his hands to lift your shirt up and over your head. Your breasts are now out in the open, the cool air hitting your chest and making your nipples hard. You barely get a word out, Miguel already cupping your boobs and squeezes them. Your hips buck back to grind on his crotch, eyes closing as he plays with you. Miguel used his fingers to tease your nipples simultaneously, flicking and tweaking them. He lifts them up and watches them fall down before squeezing them again. Your pussy is soaking through his boxers, aching for more stimulation that’s making you feel empty.
His eyes are dark watching his own hands play with your chest, the memory of the bounce of your tits as you caught the remote high in the air. He wanted to see that again.
Miguel could feel his cock swell and twitch along with each bounce of your breasts. You have your body arching, hands behind you and holding onto his thighs. He plays with your tits switching with his hands or his mouth–but if you asked him, he preferred sucking on them. So that’s where he was now, lips attached to your right nipple and his right hand playing with your left.
You slammed down on his cock, whining since you barely felt him thrust up. But in all honesty, Miguel could do this forever with your tits in his mouth and his cock buried in your cunt. While his tongue sucked and lipped your nipple, he knew if he didn’t focus, he’d cum instantly.
He looks up at you after playfully biting down on your nub, your squeaks making his dick twitch against your walls. You look down with glossy eyes, hips stuttering and pussy throbbing when you see him smirk up at you with your boob in his mouth. One of his hands that was on your waist comes up to your back to keep your body arched. Miguel scrunches his eyes shut, eyebrows furrowed while he sucks on your nipple, his hips jerking and balls slapping against your ass.
You wail with each thrust, falling forward and holding onto the backrest making your boobs squish in his face. Miguel groans as he lets you fall on top of him, hands falling down to your ass as you grind on him. His cock slips in and out of your wet cunt with a wet squelch. It makes you bite your lip with a loud whimper, the action making your man under you tug on your nipple with his teeth.
He’s obsessed with you, Miguel pulling away just enough to make your tits swing in his face. He glances up at your pleasure filled face, sweat glistening down your face and body while you panted and whined. He’s entranced, eyes falling down to follow the way your boobs bounce as he fucks up into you. Miguel trusts you to keep fucking yourself on his while his hands leave your ass to come up and cup and squeeze both your breasts. He kneads them and watches your mouth drop open to moan. Your head hangs and your foreheads almost touch.
Miguel doesn’t need to tell you a damn thing, his lips parted while he looks at yours. You lean down to kiss him, Miguel immediately slipping his tongue past your defenses with a low groan. He continues groping you, his hips smacking up with your thrusting and he can feel himself about to cum. He can tell you’re about to too by the way your pussy spasms wildly, sucking him in deeper and soaking him in your slick.
So he hammers into you, grunting as he puts all his strength in making you cream. Your eyes roll back, mouth separating from his to dig your nails into his shoulders and roll your hips. You can barely get a word out, garbled moans of his name escaping you while your body twitches, ecstasy flowing through from top to bottom. Miguel watches your chest heave as you catch your breath, your juices dripping out of your a making a sticky mess in his lap.
You’re dizzy and weak, body flopping forward on his chest. Miguel soothes you, curling his hand in your hair and pressing you into the crook of his neck. He kisses the top of your head and you’re too numb to feel him take your body off him. He places your back down on the couch, hair sticking to your face with sweat, lips plumped from kissing.
You’re whining when your sensitive folds feel his still hard cock rub in between them, accidentally slipping his tip in a few times. You swallow to get the dryness out of your throat.
“Mig…Mig…” You’re cut off when Miguel slams into you, your body jerking and tits bouncing with the hard thrust. Your hazy vision rolls onto his face, Miguel glued onto your chest still. He gives another few soft thrusts and watches your boobs jiggle around. You feel his cock jump inside your walls, a soft hum of approval coming from deep in his throat. He bends down, biting and licking the side of your tit to add another mark to his collection. His teeth marks littered around your plump and round flesh–his favorites being the ones around your areola.
His face is buried in your breasts while he pounds into you, your head thrown back and legs locked around his waist.
Oh, he’s in heaven.
#miguel x reader#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara x y/n#atsv miguel#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara x you#miguel spiderman#miguel spiderverse#miguel x reader reblog#miguel ohara#spiderman 2099 x you#spiderman 2099 x reader#spiderman 2099#miguel x y/n#miguel x you
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🔐 Password Protected 🔐
Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader
For the CM Kink Bingo Challenge 2024
Requested: "Hii Kacie, may I put in a request of a NSFW prompt? Any plotline or back story is fine I trust your talent :"> Reader's boobs/asscheeks recoill during sex turning Spencer on even more "I wish you could have my view right now" he grabs the phone to open the camera app."
Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, DubCon Hidden camera, dry humping, free use, soft to hard Dom!Spencer, sub! Reader, creampie, unprotected sex, slight breeding kink, implied oral sex, implied bondage, implied somno, pictures/ photos, degradation (slut, whore etc,) and pet names (Princess, sir, angel etc,), nipple play/torture, multiple orgasms.
A/N: Here's my second fic for the CM Kink Bingo 2024~♡ I'm definitely all over the board now, so who knows if I'I hit bingo this year, Imao? Anyways, I hope you enjoy~ And to my dear friend :"^ anon - thank you for your inspiring request.
Masterlist || Bingo Board
With a glorious lull in cases to close over the summer, the biggest mystery in the BAU was “What's in the locked folder on Spencer's phone?”
The man had made the (technologically inept) mistake of leaving his new phone unlocked on his desk in a bullpen full of criminal profilers. To say you'd all descended like vultures to a fresh carcass was putting it extremely lightly.
“What apps does he have? Five dollars says there's a dictionary app,” Emily joked, leaning over Morgan's shoulder to try and catch a glimpse of the screen. You were similarly perched at his other shoulder.
“He can probably recite the dictionary himself, and I don't think he'd know how to download apps,” you scoffed, scrolling up in the phone yourself to the app page.
“There's got to be something good in the camera roll, right?” Morgan said, clicking into it to find some dirt on the much too innocent Spencer Reid. Which is where you'd found quaint pictures of the sky, some pages from a book and the folder.
The one with a little lock on it signalling the boundary. Spencer had figured out how to use a locked folder - you'd be impressed if you weren't so curious about what was inside.
“Placing bets, people? My money is on work documents,” Morgan chuckled, losing interest swiftly in the phone and pressing it into your hands. “It's not like the kid has a lot going on romantically, right?”
You kept your mouth shut as the others nodded in agreement. While Spencer Reid may not have anything romantic going on officially, he definitely had something sexual going on. You'd been in his bed five of the last six days, losing count on the amount of times he'd fucked you into oblivion, using your body as freely as he wished, cumming inside of you to finish before washing off all traces of your coupling and cuddling upto you as you slept.
It wasn't quite a relationship, but dear god, did you never want it to end. You hadn't been so satisfied, so fulfilled (emphasis on the filled) in a long time.
“What are you doing with my phone?” You heard Spencer question from behind you, and you turned, trying to mask your embarrassment. You really didn't want him to think you were some obsessive not-girlfriend going through his messages, and almost dropped the phone like it was a bomb when your eyes met his.
“We were just debating what you could possibly have to hide in your gallery’s locked folder,” Emily laughed, clapping the man on the back and smiling up at him. “Help me win $20 and tell Morgan here that you made it accidentally and don't know the password.”
“Hey, I didn't agree to any bet yet,” Morgan laughed, kicking his feet up on his desk.
“Only because you know you're wrong.”
They bickered just long enough to let Spencer take a step closer to you, slipping the phone easily out of your hand and back into his pocket. His voice was low, his mouth close to his ear when he finally sated your curiosity.
“I think you may want to distract them from this topic, Y/N. I don't think you'll like it if they demand to see what kind of pictures and…videos I have in that folder.”
His tone wasn't suggestive, but it still lit a fire in your belly with the implication alone. You'd warmed his bed for long enough to know that you were the only one sharing it, but you didn't remember him taking any pictures or videos of you. Shit, had you been so desperate that you'd completely blanked him capturing a folders worth of images of you servicing his cock?
You took the hunt and stepped away from him, picking up a file quickly and glancing over it before turning to Emily. Distracting them with work was the only way to keep them off the scent and distract you must.
Even if it did mean you were inconvenienced with curiosity and lust for the rest of the day.
When you finally finished work, you practically hammered down Spencer's door, trying to get answers to questions he'd left hung in the air earlier. You were a visual learner, so you dearly hoped he'd answer by simply just showing you what you'd missed.
“Y/N,” he said, opening the door with a sweet smile, drawing you into the apartment with a slow, honeyed kiss. You felt him smile into you, his touch chaste enough around your arms to still your beating heart. You languished in the kiss as he pulled you on closer, shutting the door behind you as he opened you up to him, pulling you further under his spell than usual.
“I'm so happy to see you,” he said once he'd pulled away, feathering his touch across your waist, settling his hands in the crook just under your breasts, stroking the bottom of them with his thumbs. You were suddenly glad the man's hands were so large, sure that this one interaction was heaven on earth.
He almost distracted you from your purpose for coming here.
Pulling you to the sofa in his living room, Spencer pushed back a strand of hair, hooking it behind your ear as he let you straddle him wrapping your arms around his neck, your head falling comfortably onto his shoulder as you inhaled his scent.
“I'm not complaining that you're here, or anything, Y/N,” he said, hands roaming your body and stroking your ass as he spoke. “But did you have something to say? You didn't message before coming.”
You lifted your head to look him in the eyes before looking away out of embarrassment.
“Earlier, you…” you started, tongue going dry as he tightened his grip on your ass. He shifted slightly under you and you realized he was grinding his leg up into your clothed pussy as you spoke.
“Yes?”
“Your phone…the locked folder, I want to see what's inside.”
You were sure that he knew already what you wanted before you'd even arrived, but he just smiled at you again, almost too kindly.
“That's my private business, Y/N. Why should I let you see it?” He asked, looking good a finger under your jaw to make you look him in the eye once more.
“I th-think… I think there are videos. Of me. I'd like to see them.”
“Where are your manners?”
“Please, sir,” you whispered, tipping your head forward, begging him for a kiss. “Please show me the videos.”
He huffed out a quick laugh and gave you one last peck on the lips before he pushed you off. You sat on the floor between his legs, a position you were so used to being in by now that you wouldn't be surprised to find multiple shots of you sat like this, lips wrapped around his cock, pussy grinding on his shoes. Even the thought of such pictures had you wanting to recreate those memories, you weren't sure what a folder worth is going to do.
Stretching over to his coffee table, Spencer picked up the discarded phone and unlocked it, flipping through some pages before looking down at you again.
Stroking your hair, Spencer neatly arranged it before wrapping the same hand he'd been using g around your neck and pulling you gently upwards. You landed back in his lap, but he'd turned you around this time. Instead of straddling him, your back was pressed to his chest, your legs on either side of one of his. He released your neck, instead pushing his hands between your thighs so you couldn't push them together for relief - he already knew your body so well.
“Is this what you're curious about, Y/N?” He said, finally flashing you the phone screen. The first picture was obviously taken post-sex, and you recognised his bed sheets quickly. Your face hung off the end of his bed, eyes shut as his cum painted your lips, cheeks and eyes, lips parted in a lusty moan. From the angle it was taken at, you could see your breasts swell and your hand disappear between your legs as well, stroking yourself to release.
“Shit,” you moaned, pussy clenching on nothing as it begged for relief. With a hand on your hip, Spencer started encouraging you to rock back and forward, humping his leg as he whispered in your ear.
“You didn't know about that one because your eyes were covered in my cum. It turned me on more knowing you had no clue I was going to jack off to it later as well.”
He scrolled to the next image, and in this one too, you seemed unaware of the camera. Your hands were tied to the headboard, and he was fucking you from behind, the shot capturing his creamy dick pulling out of you and the discarded condom on the bed beside you.
“That was the day we learned how much more you enjoyed being filled with cum than you enjoyed condoms,” he said, scrolling to the next picture.
“And here's your first creampie,” he said, his spare hand pushing under your shirt, fingers clamping down on one nipple as you shuddered.
Your pace was faster now, desperately thrusting up and down his thigh. Even through your skirt and panties, you felt your wetness against his pants, knowing you'd be punished later for such unladylike behaviour.
As if Spencer had ever wanted you to act like a lady. He knew you were a slut and he enjoyed it.
“The next one is a video,” he said, moving his hand to your other breast and slapping it as you moaned above him. “Do you think you can handle it?”
“Y-Yes, Sir. Please let me see it, sir.”
“Okay, but not a fucking noise out of you. I want to hear your screams from the video.”
You could only silently groan in reply, nodding quickly as he scrolled and pressed play.
This one was recent, maybe one or two nights ago. You recognised the outfit you'd partially discarded, the shirt that had been ripped open.
How had you possibly not seen the camera pointed straight at you?
In the video, his cock was pressed into you, fucking you at a pace most would call violent but you called heavenly. The focus wasn't on your pussy taking his cock, though, but on your boobs, recoiling and jumping with every thrust. His other hand pressed to your stomach, feeling himself sheathed there, as you moaned desperately.
“Spen…Spen-sher,” you tripped over your tongue, slurring the words as if you'd been drugged. Your eyelids were heavy, eyes practically rolling back in your head as his hand on your stomach tightened.
“I think I fucked your brain out, baby,” he laughed deeply, cock not relenting even one second.
“Your tits looked so perfect,” the Spencer of the present said, pressing the phone into your hand as he grabbed each nipple and tugged them forward, leaving you gasping.
“And you didn't even realize I was filming it all. I could've done anything to you, anything at all, and you wouldn't have cared. You'd have enjoyed it, and I'd have had the proof.”
You were soaked now, humping deliriously against his thigh, like a puppy experiencing their first heat, desperate for this feeling to go away and for it to stay and intensify all the same.
“You were acting so stupid. At one point, I even got you to say hello to the camera, and you didn't remember a thing an hour later.”
Releasing one breast, he swiped one more time to the left, and you saw the beginning of another video.
Hitting the play button, his hands returned to your chest, this time pushing up your top and bra and freely clamping down on the nipples as hard as he could.
What intrigued you the most about this last video was the start. Unlike the pictures and the videos, you weren't in the middle of sex at the beginning of this video at all.
You were instead laid with your back to the camera - to Spencer - a leg thrown over some unfamiliar sheets. This wasn't his bed. This wasn't yours either.
Another minute of grinding against his leg, and you recognised the motel room from your last case.
“Spencer, wh-”
“Watch and see, princess.”
The bed creaked under his weight as he climbed in behind you, removing the duvet covers from your body, replacing it with his hands. He made similarly swift work of your pajamas, only bothering to push them down to your knees before pulling out his cock and slowly pushing into you.
If you weren't so close to another orgasm, you'd probably be shocked that Spencer had invaded your personal space and started fucking you as you slept. But that's what it meant to be his little free use slut. You allowed him access to you anywhere, anytime (including the motel room you'd given him the spare key for) and in return he dropped as many loads of his cum into your pussy as would fit there.
Watching yourself get violated in your sleep was the last of what you needed to push over the edge.
You grabbed Spencer's arm, gasping, and you felt him trail kisses along your neck and shoulders.
“That's it, baby, just hold on a second while I…” he pulled the phone out of your grasp, opening yet another familiar looking app.
You looked at the screen and found your own bare chest heaving staring back at you. He clicked the red button and forced it back into your hands as he began abusing your tits again.
“Show the camera, Y/N. Show them how you get yourself off on my leg.”
You complied, lifting the phone slightly to get the best view of your chest, heaving up and down as you humped his thigh into oblivion.
Your cunt twitched and you felt fluids rushing out of you, even as your arms trembled. But you didn't let them falter holding g up the phone to capture every second of your climax, knowing its exactly what he would want.
“You're perfect, you know that Y/N,” he said, finally kissing the top of your head and pulling the phone out of your grasp as he saved the video into the file you'd been browsing.
His gentleness was short-lived, though, as he pushed you off his lap and back to the floor. As you caught your breath, ass up on the floor, he took the opportunity to slip his dick out of his pants, and began stroking it up and down, inspecting your pussy with his free fingers.
“I'll give you five seconds to get ready for the next round,” he said, and you panicked, lifting your legs off the floor. You weren't strong enough, though, or maybe you just didn't want to move. He kept counting down.
“4….3….2…1,” you heard the predatory grin in his voice as he pushed his foot onto your head, holding your cheek to the floor with one leg.
“As you wish then, my little slut.” He moved his foot away quickly and pushed inside of you, and your last coherent thought was of the folder again, and how long he'd make you wait to see the video you were about to shoot.
#cmkinkbingo2024#spencer reid#criminal minds#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fanfic#mgg#criminal minds fanfiction#spencer reid smut#criminal minds fandom#spencer reid criminal minds#spencer reid fanfiction#dr spencer reid#spencer reid x reader smut#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#criminal minds challenge#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds writing challenge
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Ugh I’ve become obsessed with Paige. I actually showed a friend a video of her trying to explain my crush and the first thing she said was “wow, I didn’t expect her voice to be so deep”. I’m likeeeee SEE 🫠
For a request how about a late night call with Paige while she’s out of town. That voice in your ear, saying all the things she wish she could do and will do when she gets home. 😈
ᯤ༉‧₊˚.*ੈ✩‧₊˚‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ on the phone,,
paige bueckers x fem!reader
you were in your bed getting ready to finally lay down after the long day you had. paige’s side of the bed was left empty and cold ever since she left for an away game. it’d only been two days and she’d probably be back tomorrow, but you still miss her an unbelievable amount.
your head hits the pillow when your phone starts ringing, paige’s name spoken loudly in the air by your phone. it startles you a little, not expecting to hear from her again today.
you reach over and answer it, pulling the phone close to your ear. “paige?”
“hey ma, how are youuu?” she drags out the ‘you,’ making it evident she’s happy and in a cheerful mood. you can’t help but smile to just by picturing her face.
“i’m good, about to go to bed actually.”
“not yet. i wanna talk to you for a little bit. i’ve missed you.” her tone changes with the last few words, voice lowering in a seductive manner. it already has you turning in bed as the heat creeps up your body, the tone all too familiar to you.
“i’ve missed you too p.”
there’s a pause on paige’s side of the phone, silence filling the line. you hear her labored breath fanning over the microphone and wonder if she’s just as worked up as you are right now, even though she hasn’t actually done anything.
“i’m so excited to come home tomorrow baby. can i tell you something?”
“anything.”
“i wanna to fuck you so bad right now.”
“oh-” you have no time to speak because she’s cutting you off immediately to follow up on her statement.
“when i get home, fuck- you have no idea what m’gonna do to you.”
now it’s your turn to pause, carefully thinking about what your next move is. you could just tease her, tell her to go to bed and make good on her promises tomorrow. on the other hand, you could play into whatever she’s trying to do and see where it goes.
you opt for the second option.
“yeah? what’re you gonna do to me paige?”
“you wanna know?”
“yeah.”
your girlfriend squeezes her eyes shut, praying that she doesn’t finish just by hearing the sound of your voice. you’re so intoxicating to her, always knowing what to say and what buttons to press. it’s almost embarrassing the affect you have on her.
“i wanna bend you over the kitchen counter, get you warmed up on my fingers. maybe three fingers, that sound good? i’ll make you feel so good baby i promise. i’ll start off slow if you want, or fast, it’s up to you.”
you’re breathing heavy too, considering dipping a hand down into your pajama shorts because she’s turning you on so much. the wetness between your legs grow, rubbing them together for some relief.
“once you cum two or three times i’ll take you to our bed- are you okay babe? i can hear you moving a lot.”
“m’okay. keep going,” your hand snakes into your underwear, collecting your arousal and using it to rub tight circles on your clit. the simple pleasure is enough to make your head tilt back and hit the headboard. the sound echoes through the phone and paige knows exactly what you’re doing.
“i’ve been wanting to taste you so bad too, gonna have you ride my face until i tell you to stop. want your legs around my head, cum dripping on my face. i want it so bad ma you have no idea.”
“yeah?” it comes out more like a whine, voice high-pitched as the pit in your stomach grows. you haven’t gotten yourself off in so long. the feeling is foreign to you, arm growing tired from the constant strain.
“yeah. won’t stop until your legs are shaking.”
“oh my god paige.”
“gonna fuck you too. nice and slow and deep so i can take my time, i want you to ride me after that. i love it when you ride me- i get to see everything. i’ll fuck you in the shower, on the fucking wall for all i care. i’ve missed your pretty pussy so much it’s all i can think about.”
you moan into the phone, making it blatantly obvious what you’re doing if it wasn’t already. paige feels her chest swell with pride and she’s so turned on she thinks about doing the same thing as you; dipping an eager hand into her pants to relieve the pressure.
“i won’t stop until you beg me to. i don’t want you thinking about anything else but me and how i make you feel, okay? want you chanting my name.”
“yes-fuck! nothing but you p,”
your hand gets tired and sloppy as your orgasm approaches, back bending off the bed to help you grind on yourself. paige is still talking but you can’t even hear her because your ears are ringing and you’re so close-
“you gonna cum baby?”
you hum out, near delirious and probably crying as her words send you over the edge. your whole body shakes at the sensation but it’s nothing like how paige makes you feel.
you can’t wait until she’s here and not just on the phone.
ᯤ༉‧₊˚.*ੈ✩‧₊˚‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊
a lil short fic for my paige girlies
part of me fears i made this a bit too freaky……
BUT I LIKE TJE REQUEST SO HERE YOU GO!
partially spell checked idk
#paige bueckers#paige buckets#uconn wbb#paige bueckers smut#paige bueckers x reader#uconn huskies#uconn women’s basketball#lgbtq#lgbtqia#lesbian#wlw slay#wlw yearning#wlw post#bisexual#paige bueckers imagine#paige bueckers fic
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charles and his childhood best friend but he's secretly in love with her pretty please
childhood friends to lovers is my favorite trope 🥺 i hope you like this
MASTERLIST | MY PATREON
liked by charles_leclerc, lilymhe and 102,625 others
yourinstagram perks of your best friend being a formula one driver: you get to travel to cool places to see him work
📸 by my love @boyfriendsusername
view all 3,087 comments
charlesfan1 the most beloved non wag is coming
charlesfan2 “📸by my love” charles was found fuming
↳ charlesfan3 no bc he refuses to admit he’s in love with her (we all know it)
lilymhe i can’t wait to see you 💗 ♥︎ by author
charlesfan3 is her boyfriend going to the gp?? bc is he is we’re getting pissed off charles again lol
↳ charlesfan2 brazil gp flashbacks 😭
landonorris Don’t forget about me and come say hi ♥︎ by author
↳ yourinstagram will do landoeeee 🫡
↳ landofan1 love this duo
charlesfan4 why does she have to take her boyfriend? 😫 actually can she break up with him and just get with charles ?
↳ charlesfan1 you guys are so disrespectful sometimes, they’ve been best friends since forever you shouldn’t be projecting a relationship between them when there isn’t
boyfriendsusername 😍😍 ♥︎ by author
charles_leclerc About time, I miss you a lot ❤️
↳ charlesfan2 MARRY HER
↳ yourinstagram same hereeeee
↳ charlesfan3 she replied to charles’ comment but not to her boyfriend’s. see? she’s in love with him
liked by charles_leclerc, lilymhe and 114,824 others
yourinstagram cooking breakfast because running over my ex with a truck is not the right thing to do
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charlesfan1 PAUSE. SHE BROKE UP WITH THAT DUDE??
charlesfan2 okay sucks for her but i bet charles is jumping up and down 😭
francisca.cgomes It’s his loss 💗 Ilysm ♥︎ by author
↳ charlesfan1 she’s so loved along the wags she just needs to become a wag herself
carlossainz55 Sending you a big hug, nena ♥︎ by author
↳ carlosfan1 carlos what are you doing here charles would have your head if you ever try something with her
charlesfan3 ITS TIME FOR YN AND CHARLESSSSS LOVE STORY
charlesfan4 it’s kinda insensitive that you guys celebrate that she broke up with her boyfriend and the comments about how she should get with charles… she’s a human being who just had a breakup and charles is literally her best friend and nothing more
charles_leclerc I don’t think it’s a wrong thing to do. Actually, I can run over him with my Ferrari if you want, I know a thing or two about driving cars at a really fast speed 🤷 ♥︎ by author
↳ charlesfan1 CHARLES WTF 😭
↳ charlesfan2 HE HAS NO CHILL
↳ charlesfan3 we knew he always hated him
↳ yourinstagram 😂😂 love you, charlie
liked by yourinstagram, pierregasly and 1,002,367 others
charles_leclerc When your best friend is obssesed with all things aesthetic
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charlesfan1 LOVE OF MY LIFE
charlesfan2 he’s really the hottest man alive
landonorris Can she be my best friend too?
↳ charles_leclerc No
↳ charlesfan1 😭😭😭
leclerc_pascale ❤️
charlesfan3 he looks so boyfriend so i think he should be yn’s boyfriend
yourinstagram you look cute through my lens 🥲
↳ charles_leclerc I always look cute what do you mean
↳ charlesfan1 stop flirting in front of us
liked by charlesfan1, charlesfan2 and 34,836 others
f1gossip Charles Leclerc and YN out in Monaco tonight
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charlesfan1 BOYFRIEND AND GIRLFRIEND
charlesfan2 they’re both so pretty. they would make the hottest couple on the grid
charlesfan3 why don’t they just get together ffs 😭
↳ charlesfan1 streets say (and ny street i mean people from monaco) that charles has been smitten over her since they were kids but she always dated other guys
↳ charlesfan2 this must be true like we’ve seen it
charlesfan4 something in the air is shifting people maybe they’re finally confessing that they’re in love with each other lol
↳ charlesfan1 LETTUCE PRAY
charlesfan5 why is this comment section full of weirdos they’re FRIENDS
↳ charlesfan2 stfuuuu
liked by charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri and 120,725 others
yourinstagram back on my tifosi era ❤️
view all 5,033 comments
charlesfan1 YEEEEES
charlesfan2 imagine being charles’ best friend and traveling with him for races
↳ charlesfan1 babe that’s not his best friend that’s the love of his life
lilymhe IT WAS SO GOOD TO FINALLY SEE YOU ♥︎ by author
↳ yourinstagram i literally LOVE you 🤍
↳ charlesfan1 just become a wag already
charlesfan3 see charles was all smiles today because her (ex)boyfriend no longer tags along
landonorris When will the two of you confess to each other
↳ landofan1 LANDO😳
↳ charlesfan1 WTF IS HE CALLING HIM OUT
↳ yourinstagram you’re so weird i never know what you’re talking about
↳ charlesfan2 of course yn is playing dumb
↳ charles_leclerc ???
↳ charlesfan3 PLEASE 😭
charles_leclerc I look weird in that pic :(
↳ yourinstagram you look cuuuute
↳ charlesfan2 KISS KISS
liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55 and 250,388 others
yourinstagram i’ve known and loved this one since he was this little. growing up, we talked about what he would become countless of times, and in every single conversation i told him that he was going to achieve every single one of his dreams. today he drives the monaco circuit for the 6th time, and i know this year will be his year and monaco will finally love him back 🏆
love you beyond words @charles_leclerc ❤️
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charlesfan1 AWEEEE
charlesfan2 THIS IS ADORABLE I CANT
leclerc_pascale ❤️❤️❤️❤️
↳ yourinstagram tysm for the picture 🥺
charlesfan3 JUST GET MARRIED ALREADY
landonorris Little Charles Leclerc
scuderiaferarri FORZA CHARLES ! 👏
charlesfan4 CANT YALL SEE THEYRE MEANT TO BE ???
↳ charlesfan1 the thing is we all can see it but they just can’t
charlesfan5 seriously if this ain’t love then what is
f1gossip Charles and YN’s romantic relationship will be confirmed any minute now
↳ charlesfan2 WHAT DO YOU KNOW
↳ charlesfan3 SPILL THE DEETS
charles_leclerc Thank you for being my biggest supporter and never leaving my side. I love you so much 🤍 ♥︎ by author
↳ charlesfan1 STFU STFU
↳ charlesfan2 YN WAKE UP
liked by yourinstagram, oscarpiastri and 3,436,137 others
charles_leclerc BEST DAY EVER ❤️❤️❤️
Thank you for everything, I love you all ❤️🤍❤️🤍
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charlesfan1 PRINCE OF MONACO DID IT
schecoperez Bravo Charles! 👏
charlesfan2 IM STILL CRYING
oscarpiastri Congrats bro 👊
pierregasly Bravo Champ!! Trop content pour toi!! ❤️
georgerussell63 Congrats mate !!
charlesfan3 HE DID IT FINALLY
charlesfan4 IVE BEEN CRYING FOR HOURS NOW
scuderiaferrari Bravo Charles !! So proud ❤️
yourinstagram im so proud of you, words are not enough. this was your dream and you achieve it, i love you so much
↳ charlesfan1 AHHHHH
↳ charlesfan2 ADDRESS THE RUMORS WE LITERALLY SAW YOU KISSING
↳ charlesfan3 JUST GET MARRIED
liked by charles_leclerc, lilymhe and 376,956 others
yourinstagram when we were 15 i told him that i would be his girlfriend the day he won the monaco grand prix. i guess it's time 🤍
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charlesfan1 AHHHHHH
charlesfan2 JSDJOEHYSIJON I CANT BELIEVE THIS
francisca.cgomes 🥹🥹🥹🥹
charlesfan3 OMFG HOW IS THIS REAL
arthur_leclerc Finally ♥︎ by author
↳ charlesfan1 ARTHUR 😭😭😭😭
↳ charlesfan2 even their families were rooting for them I CANT
scuderiaferrari ❤️
charlesfan4 WE WERE RIGHT ALL ALONG
charlesfan5 THIS HAS BEEN THE MOST PERFECT WEEKEND EVER
carlossainz55 👏👏👏
charlesfan6 they were always meant to be but they were too stubborn to see it
landonorris I LOVE LOVE ❤️
↳ landofan1 PLEASEEEEE
charlesfan7 they have been in love for YEARS i cannot
charlesfan8 THIS MOMENT WAS LITERALLY PERFECT
charles_leclerc I’ve waited my whole life for this moment 🤍
↳ charlesfan1 IM CRYING AGAIN
↳ charlesfan2 CHARLIE DONT DO THIS
↳ charlesfan3 they’re so invisible string coded
↳ charlesfan4 MY FAVORITE LOVE STORY EVER
↳ yourinstagram 🥺🥺❤️
liked by yourinstagram, landonorris and 3,574,037 others
charles_leclerc Lucly I’m in love with my best friend ❤️
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charlesfan1 AND IM CRYING AGAIN
charlesfan2 THIS IS PERFECT
pierregasly Adorable 🙌
charlesfan3 HANG THIS PICTURE IN THE LOUVRE
charlesfan4 SOBBING SO BADLY RN
instagram 🥺
scuderiaferrari ❤️
charlesfan5 every single soul was rooting for this relationship fr
charlesfan6 I LOVE THEM SM
charlesfan7 childhood friends to lovers 🥹
yourinstagram i love you so much 💗💗
↳ charlesfan1 took you decades to find out but it’s okay girl
↳ charlesfan2 i can’t get enough of this relationship
↳ charlesfan3 YOU FINALLY REALIZED
#charles leclerc au#charles leclerc x y/n#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc smau#charles leclerc fake instagram#charles leclerc#charles leclerc fanfic#formula 1 fanfic#formula 1#formula one#charles leclerc fanfiction#harrysfolklore#f1 x reader#charles leclerc smut#monaco gp 2024#cl16#f1 grid x reader#cl16 x reader
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All In 7
No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power imbalance, low self esteem, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: you meet a mysterious man on a night out with your sister. (petite!reader)
based on the winning option for this poll
Characters: casino owner!Bucky Barnes
Note: another week...
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.
I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖
When Bucky leaves, you feel less than relief. It’s easier to breathe without him around but your heart continues to race. You don’t move until you see him drive away. You steel yourself with the manufactured lie before you go back inside.
As you do, you’re surprised to find Roxie beside your mom, both of them close to the front window. You sigh. Were they watching? You guess you can be thankful Bucky hadn’t done more than talk.
Your mom faces you with a sheepish grin, “so... did you get it?”
You look between her and your sister. Roxie has her phone in hand and an arch in her eyebrow, “I’d die for a boss like that.”
“I...” you glance the screen before she can hide it. Oh. She had a picture of him pulled up on Google. So, they both know exactly who he is.
“He must be really hands on if he came all the way down here to offer you a job,” Roxie tilts her head.
“That’s the sign of a good boss,” your mom insists.
“Really, I think his eyes were the kicker. So blue.”
“Rox,” your mom nudges her. “A man like him, he’s got line ups, I’m sure. Besides, she’s too young for him.”
“Well, I’m older,” Roxie smirks, “maybe she can get me a job too.”
“Er, uh,” you wring your hands, “I should start dinner.”
“You didn’t say if you go the job,” Roxie challenges.
“Yeah,” you utter softly, “I got a job. Just cleaning.”
“Hey, it’s better than nothing,” you mom assures as she comes to you. She puts her hands on your shoulders, “I’m so proud of you.”
“Mom,” you try not to look pained as you return her smile, “it’s nothing. Really. A cleaner.”
“We all gotta start somewhere.”
“Yeah,” Roxie scoffs, “most of us a lot sooner.”
“Oh, don’t be such a downer,” your mom lets you go to spin on your sister, “don’t rain on her parade.”
“Whatever. I’d rather hand out flyers than clean toilets,” she rolls her eyes.
You purse your lips and shy away. You feel worse that they believe you so easily and why wouldn’t they? No one would think that someone like you would merit such a preposterous offer from a man like Bucky. You still can’t really believe it.
Maybe it’s just some twisted hallucination. You could wake up tomorrow and be just like you were before. You never thought you would long for that but now, being alone, being the loser, that feels safe. Being noticed, being someone, that’s terrifying.
🃏
You take your time making dinner, a brief escape from reality. The distraction keeps you busy enough that your chest stops thrumming, yet your nerves are still spastic. You’re not very hungry once it’s done but you make yourself eat.
Roxie heads off for work shortly after you gather up the dirty dishes and your mom goes to change into her pajamas. She startles you as you scour the pan you used to bake the chicken. You splash yourself and hiss.
“Sorry, hon, I was just coming to check on you,” she leans against the counter, “you’re nervous, aren’t you?”
You shrug, to fraught to answer.
“You get restless, I can tell. You do everything just to keep from fidgeting,” she says, “it’s going to be okay. You’ll be just fine and you’ll see, it’ll be nice to have your own money.”
“I know, mom,” you murmur, turning your face down to the sink, “it’s not that I don’t want to work, I just... I guess it’s the change that freaks me out.”
“Change is good, even if it’s scary,” she says. “You’ll see.”
“Mm,” you hum and try not to shatter, “I just want to help out.”
“Hon, you worry about yourself. Please--”
“No, I owe you.”
“Owe me? I’m your mother. I just wish I could give you more,” she smiles and squeezes your arm. “If you’re not some busy working girl, we’ll celebrate on my day off.”
“Sure,” you accept grimly.
She leaves you and you’re silent as you finish up the dishes. You put them away and wipe the counters. When you finish, you shut off the lights. You say good night from the doorway and retreat into your room. Tomorrow. That’s all he said. That’s the only detail you go before he strolled off.
You grab your phone and fall back on your bed. All you want is to lose yourself in a fic or a discussion board or even just scrolling mindlessly. You can’t. It’s like he’s taking over everything. There it is, that little icon you rarely see, a new message.
You pull down the menu and stare at the preview. Two hours ago. You’re surprised he didn’t show up to check why you hadn’t answered. Again. You will at least need to send something before the night is over.
‘Hey doll. I’ll send a car tomorrow morning at nine. Just bring yourself.’
You shudder and stare at the blue bubble around the text. Oof. Nine? That’s early for you. You suppose it’s about time you break that bad habit.
‘Sorry. I was making dinner. Nine is good. Thank you.’
You hit send and put your phone down. You slide your laptop across the bed and open it up. You’ll watch something. That old BBC drama you found on the free streaming service has been pretty interesting, but you think you only have one episode left. That’s good, you can’t be up all night.
Your phone buzzes. Shoot. Alright. You can do this. You have to get to it. You swipe up your phone again, surprised to find it’s still shaking.
Oh no. He’s calling!
You panic and nearly hit decline before you manage to drag your thumb the other way. You put the phone to your ear, unable to muster even a squeak. What do you say?
“Hey, doll,” Bucky’s voice drawls from the speaker, “hope I didn’t interrupt dinner.”
“No, er, we’re done.”
“Ah, and are you alone?”
You frown, “yes?”
“Good, good. Isn’t that sweet of you, cooking dinner for your family. That’s what I like about you. You take care of those you love.”
You gulp. You don’t know what to say.
“What was for dinner?” He asks as you hear a soft rustle.
“Um, chicken and potatoes,” you answer bluntly. It’s an easy question.
“You’re not busy or something?” He wonders.
“Uh uh,” you shake your head even though he can’t see, “I’m just... in bed.”
“Early night, huh?” He asks.
“I guess, I was going to watch a show.”
“Right, right,” he clicks his tongue as something taps followed by other indiscernible movements, “you in your pajamas? Bet those are cute?”
“Not... yet,” you croak.
“Mmm,” he purrs, “I just got out of the shower.”
“You... did?”
“Getting ready for tomorrow,” he explains, “gotta admit, I’m a bit impatient. You’ll see that about me, doll. When I want something, it’s hard to wait.”
“Uh, oh...” you stutter out.
“For you, I can,” he vows, “doll, do me a favour.”
“A favour?” You echo thinly.
“Mmm, yeah, I want you to get in your pajamas and send me a picture. Just to tide me over,” he coaxes.
“A picture?” You open your eyes wide and gape at the wall.
“Sure, just a taste. I wanna know what I should imagine next to me when I lay down.”
“What?” You squeak, shocked by his insinuation. Imagining you?!
“I can’t help myself. It’s lonely here.”
“I...” you pick at your lower lip, “one sec. I... I gotta...”
You put the phone on the bed and push yourself off the mattress. You trip on your own feet and hope he can’t hear you stumbling around. Your pajamas are kind of silly. You don’t really have any sexy ones. Maybe if he sees them, he’ll change his mind.
The only matching pair you have have snoopy on the top and a large check bottom on the pants. You fish them out and change. It’s okay. He can’t see you at that moment. Still, it feels like he is watching you. Just as his presence has lurked around you all day.
You go back to your phone and fumble around, “sorry, I... just... figuring out the camera.”
You hear his timbre but can’t make out his words from the small speaker. You open the camera app and flip the camera. You move around, trying to take the pic, and lean the phone on the top of your dress. You angle it and mutter to yourself as you struggle to set the timer.
You take several pictures before you’re not entirely discontent. You look awkward in all of them. The pants, like all your pants, are too long and gather around your feet. You don’t know how to pose either. Quite frankly, you look frightened in every single one.
“Alright, I think...” you babble and find your way into the conversation and choose the least egregious frame. You hesitate and close your eyes as you push your thumb down on the arrow.
You bring the phone back to your ear, “are you still there?”
“Always, doll,” he assures and once more, the phone shifts around noisily. “Mm, Snoopy? I like it. More of a Woodstock myself but... Mm mm mm, you look good.” He pauses as you wriggle and your cheeks burn hotly. “Sexy.”
“No,” you burst out without thinking.
“No? You don’t think I’m telling the truth?”
“I didn’t... say so, it’s... just pajamas,” you sniff, “sorry, I didn’t mean to argue.”
“Doll, relax. Thing about you, you don’t even have to try.”
You don’t reply. You have no idea what to say or even if you should believe him. You saw the picture, you look in the mirror every day, you know what you are. It still feels like some weird game.
“Here, gimme a sec,” he says from his end.
More rustling and the noise of a digital shutter. Your phone vibes shortly and you pull it away from your cheek. You squint at the screen as it lights up and an image buffers in the conversation.
“Huh, uh, it’s not loading. My phone is--” you nearly swallow your tongue and gasp.
Oh gosh. It’s a picture of him in almost nothing. Just a towel. His long hair is damp and pushed back and his dark beard contrasts his bright blue eyes as he aims the lens of his phone at himself in the mirror. His stomach is ridged with muscle, his chest trimmed with hair that trails down, and the towel hangs low, giving a generous hint of his pelvis. The vee above the fabric feels overly salacious.
“Doll?” You hear the low tone of his voice and make yourself look away. You raise the phone again to your ear. “Everything okay? You got really quiet.”
“I...”
“You like what you see?” He asks coyly.
You put your hand to your forehead, your flesh is fiery. It’s so much so fast. Just that morning, you’d convinced yourself you would never see or talk to him again. And now he’s sending you pictures like that and... flirting with you?
“Yes,” you eke out then cover your mouth. He snickers and you clear your throat before you peel your hand away, “sorry, I mean... you’re... you... you must work out.”
“Doll, you’re too adorable,” he says.
You don’t say a word. You’re mortified. He knew you saw that. He knows you’ve seen him like that. He sent it!
It’s all too much. You’re lightheaded. You rub your chin and shiver.
“I should... sleep.”
“Mm, me too,” he says, “hopefully I dream of you.”
You giggle nervously, “really?”
“Sure, doll. All I can do is dream. Until tomorrow,” he sighs, “and what about you? You gonna dream about me?”
You squeak and stammer, “I... I... I...”
He laughs again, “you really are so cute in those pajamas.”
“Please,” you blurt out, “delete it.”
“Now, why would I do that?” He challenges.
���I don’t... know.”
“I love it,” he insists, “you’re not deleting mine, are you?”
“N-no, no, I’ll keep it.”
“Hm, good,” he intones, “it’s all for you so don’t you go showing me off to all your friends.”
It’s your turn to laugh. “Promise, I won’t.” If only he knew you don’t have any friends to show.
#bucky barnes#dark bucky barnes#dark!bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#series#au#casino au#fic#dark fic#dark!fic#all in#mcu#marvel#captain america#avengers#winter soldier
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Because I am who I am (very obsessed with flower language), my friends sent this to me and I simply must talk about it;
Of course, I know these definitely weren’t chosen with floral language in mind, but they’re fun choices and accidental symbolism is even more fun XD so!
Edelweiss: devotion & courage, nobility, daring
Borage: courage/bravery, bluntness/abruptness/rudeness
Bird’s foot trefoil: revenge/retribution, recantation
Cherry Blossom: education, deception, kindness, feminine beauty, faith, intelligence, love
Magnolia: nobility, love of nature, perseverance, determination, dignity, beauty, magnificence, peerless and proud, sweetness, natural
Gardenia: refinement, purity, sweet love, "you're lovely", secret love, joy, good luck, ecstasy, emotional support, peace
Wisteria: regret, welcome, love, poetry, protection, youth, "let's be friends,
There's a lot going on here, so I'll break down my thoughts in order below a cut.
Edelweiss is a rather short list and largely fitting for Fearne, in my opinion! Devotion plays very well into what others have discussed as the Hells being hers in a very fey way. They are her people and in fey terms of ownership, that makes them belong to her. Devotion fits within that quite well. Nobility suits in terms of her being the adopted granddaughter of an archfey, as well as her Titan connection. And Fearne is certainly not lacking in courage and daring, not in the slightest.
Borage is an even more well-suited pick. As I just said, courage is something Fearne definitely shows and even more than that, she is blunt and abrupt and maybe a touch rude, and we love her for it.
Bird's foot trefoil is an interesting one! It's not present in all of my sources and as such it has a much shorter list of meanings. I don't see Fearne are particularly vengeful, though tied to that fey ownership and devotion from before I can see it. Recantation is a weird one and I think may be more tied to what its use was in Victorian flower language may have been; taking back a sentiment previously expressed, whereas the rest of these are sentiments.
Cherry blossom has a lot more to work with. Education and intelligence can sort of be paired together and also largely set aside, given Fearne's 9 INT. She doesn't have proficiency in Deception, but she certainly loves to lie, so that meaning fits. Feminine beauty certainly works as well. And kindness, faith, and love can all be wrapped up with her bond with the rest of the Hells.
Magnolia has the most meanings to look at. Nobility comes back here, which already works because of Morri. Love of nature, she's a druid, it works, same for natural. Perseverance is specific to swamp magnolias in the older sources it appears in, which is rather fitting considering Ligament Manor is located within a fey swamp and beyond that just for how the Hells keep on going, one fucking thing after another. The same goes for determination. Dignity maybe not as much, said with full affection. Beauty, magnificence, and "peerless and proud" all work for sure, in the same and similar ways as feminine beauty does. Sweetness is a similar case, working well with kindness, faith, and love from before.
Gardenia! There's a few here that don't quite work, I think. Purity is a no, Fearne is too fey and free with her affection for people for secret love, I think refinement is a similar case as to dignity for not fitting, and peace conflicts with how chaotic a person Fearne is. We already have sweetness, so sweet love works. "You're lovely" goes hand-in-hand with our other beauty meanings. Joy and ecstasy pair well and fit well within Fearne's chaos, I think. Good luck and emotional support are interesting ones and while I don't think they're entirely wrong, I wouldn't call them perfect fits either.
And finally, wisteria! Regret is interesting, as Fearne has said she's begun to feel guilt from time-to-time while traveling on the Material Plane and the feelings are adjacent. Love, protection, and "let's be friends" all fit within that same collection of meanings for Fearne and the Hells. Youth is very interesting, given Fearne being pulled out of the normal flow of time by Morri and as such remaining young while a century went by. Welcome is another that's not a great fit but neither is a poor one, in my opinion. Poetry is the only one I wouldn't really give her.
All in all, Victorian flower language has a lot going on, especially for certain flowers but the ones Fearne wears largely suit her quite well! A very happy accident. This was very fun to breakdown, if you read of all of this thank you and I hope you found it neat!
Also, for fun, which of these are poisonous? Borage, bird's foot trefoil, some cherry blossoms, gardenias, and wisteria. So most of them, meaning Fearne's whole "all the plants I wear are poisonous" thing from EXU still fits!
Sources: allflorist's flower meanings list, wikipedia's list of plants with symbolism, The Language of Flowers: An Alphabet of Floral Emblems, Language of Flowers by Kate Greenaway, The Complete Language of Flowers: A Definitive & Illustrated History by S. Theresa Dietz, Floriography: An Illustrated Guide to the Victorian Language of Flowers by Jessica Roux
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The Derivative Fashion Sense of Lore Olympus
So I'm usually out here going Gordon Ramsay on Rachel's ass about her writing and art, but for this unsolicited essay I will be wearing a different hat.
Yep, we're going Miranda Priestly today. Specifically the Miranda Priestly who talks fashion, not the Miranda Priestly who abuses employees lmao (though rest assured, I'm gonna have a lot of curt words throughout this).
Disclaimer: I am not at all an expert on fashion, these are just my thoughts and observations from studying fashion styles as part of my own artistic journey, so as always, take what I have to say with loads of salt. I also realize the irony that I am addressing the derivative nature of Lore Olympus when I, myself, am creating a derivative retelling of Lore Olympus.
Alright, enough small talk.
There's this general misconception in runway fashion that all those "impractical outfits" are meant to be worn by the average person, people such as myself who see these outfits and go "what the fuck do you mean Lady Gaga wore a dress made out of meat?!" When we see these crazy fits, our first impression is often "Why would anyone wear that?"
Well, because they aren't outfits. They're art pieces.
And not only are the outfits themselves art pieces, but the people wearing them are the canvases. These outfits aren't designed for just anyone to wear, especially not your average Joe, they're designed both with the artist's vision as well as the model in mind. A lot of thought, expression, cultural influences, and personal messaging is sewn into these designs.
Think about it this way, you couldn't take that aforementioned Gaga meat dress and put it on Taylor Swift. Not only would it not be physically tailored to her, but it wouldn't align with Swift's brand of music. Gaga, at the time of wearing that dress, was making a statement that came about from a collaborative effort between herself, the canvas, and her fashion designer, the artist. The meaning would be lost if you put Swift, Katy Perry, or any other musician into it, because the fact that Gaga is the one wearing it is part of that meaning.
What would happen if you did take the meat dress and put it on someone else? Well, that's how you get the controversial 2022 Met Gala when Kim Kardashian wore the sequin dress that Marilyn Monroe wore for JFK back in 1962.
Not a replica. Not a re-interpretation. The actual literal dress that Monroe once wore. This was a very bold - and in my opinion, reckless - move on Kim's part, because not only was she forcing herself into a dress not tailored to her (and yes, there has been deliberation on what damage was caused to the dress on account of this) but rather than working with a fashion designer to come up with a fresh new interpretation of the same concept, she just went "yeah I'm gonna wear the exact dress", in what many interpreted as a disrespectful power move to artificially put herself on the same level of prestige as Monroe. But she still isn't on that level of prestige and it speaks volumes that she thought carving out her own legacy would be as simple as just taking someone else's. The wolf wore the sheep's clothing with the intent to fool the sheep, but it was still a wolf.
But okay okay, WHAT does this have to do with Lore Olympus?
Well, Rachel released a new interview clip.
instagram
I will say, these seem to have all been recorded at once probably when she was back at NYCC and they're probably going to be released daily leading up to the free release of the finale. Why they're hyping up the free version rather than hyping up the FastPass version that actually generates income, I have no clue, but I digress.
As always, the transcript is as follows:
"I really like looking at like, uh, vintage clothing and silhouettes that are... y'know, timeless. I mean, obviously it's really hard to future-proof work that's set in the modern setting because of course the times are gonna change, like, rapidly and there's not a lot you can do about it, but in terms of, like, fashion, there are just some silhouettes that are always going to look very classy, so... I try to put things that will not age. Like, I think there was a chapter recently where she [Persephone?] had like a very vintage Dior look which I really liked, um... and I feel like that will always look nice, like in 10 years time I'll be like, 'She looked good'. But there are some outfits which are more modern where I'm like, 'That probably won't look good in 10 years time'. But, y'know, we still got the inspired vintage Dior outfit so that's good, that's safe."
There isn't much to say about the actual transcribed text itself, but I do think it's very telling that Rachel tries to upsell her sense of fashion sense in LO when... much of it is just flat out derivative. At best she's often referencing real life people (mostly Hollywood celebrities) and at worst she's usually just grabbing stuff off Pinterest inspo boards without any consideration towards the influences or who she's putting into them.
That said, I do think she told on herself quite a bit in that final line of the interview clip - "that's good, that's safe."
I can understand wanting to play it safe in terms of knowing your limitations and not wanting to create something that would be dated in a few years.
But fashion... isn't about playing it safe. Because ultimately, how something ages in the long term isn't something that you, the artist, can control, and like many art mediums, you need to be focused on what to create next, not on how well your old art pieces still hold up in the present where they've been removed from their original context.
And I think this rings true for a lot of Lore Olympus, beyond just the fashion. It's all just a little too safe. We see it in the fashion, we see it in her uncommitted writing decisions, we see it in how often she's willing to retcon things just to write herself out of corners.
And I think that's really Rachel's biggest weakness as a creator at the end of the day. As much as she's tried to put on the persona of "screw you, I'll do what I want", her actions are always the opposite of what she says. She says that the fashion in LO is very vintage, but I can count on one hand how many outfits were actually vintage. The vast majority of them are a lot more modern, with a lot of Western influences, and sometimes with a boob window thrown in.
Case in point, the most recent outfit of Persephone wearing a practically-nude sparkle dress?
That's Rihanna's Swarovski dress that she wore in 2014.
Now, to Rachel's credit, she did find a way to personalize this to Persephone by removing the cap and giving her a rose-shaped bun, but the outfit itself is still just copied directly from Rihanna. Not only is there not a whole lot of Persephone's influence beyond her being literally made out of roses-
-but there isn't anything calling attention to the fact that this is a Greek myth retelling. And this isn't just a problem with the Swarovski dress callback, this is a problem EVERYWHERE.
And of course, that's not even touching on the fact that Hades and Hecate are forced to wear suits constantly. Because, according to Rachel, the fashion inspiration for Hades and Persephone only went as deep is "he's the groom and she's the bride"-
Rachel plays it safe by sticking purely to the inspirations she consumes from modern American media. The "modern twist" on the myths in LO is literally just "it's Greek myth but it's set in Los Angeles". She doesn't seem to want to put herself out there and actually consume Greek content any deeper than what she can find on Google, and it shows in how little Greek there is in this Greek myth comic.
There is, ironically, as I've been told by community members in ULO, a fashion collection called Persephone created by Paolo Sebastian, and in it you can see the actual Greek influences in these outfits far more than what you see in even Persephone's most visually stunning outfits:
These are dresses and yet Paolo uses them as an opportunity to tell the story of Persephone, somehow even more faithfully than an actual written adaption of The Hymn to Demeter. Because fashion, too, can tell a story - and Lore Olympus' fashion, like its writing, has no story to really tell, at least not in Rachel's hands when she's just pulling whatever she can find from what she treats as a pile of "stuff" on Google.
And that's not even getting into how the writing plays it safe much in the same way as the fashion influences and artistic choices. A good example is that S3 premiere sequence, in which Hades and Persephone are pulled away from each other so that... they can get washed down by their family and peers.
Rachel doesn't really do anything to re-contextualize this reference for the context and setting and circumstances of LO, she just goes "I liked that bath scene from Beauty and the Beast so I'm going to put it in LO."
And of course, it doesn't work as effectively as it did in Beauty and the Beast, because the whole original point of that scene was to showcase the big and scary Beast being washed down like a dog by his servants-turned-into-furniture while he stresses over how he's going to win over Belle. It's a comedic subversion, artistically by showing the ferocious beast reduced into a wet dog, but also on a narrative level by showing through his dialogue and actions how nervous he is to impress Belle because his own fate - as well as the fates of his servants - depend on her falling in love with him. He can't afford to mess this up.
But in LO, it's two naked people who we already know love each other and are committed to each other, we've already seen countless scenes of them being sweet on each other and showcasing that they're into each other, and by all accounts they've already gotten their happy ending, so it makes no sense for them to just be like "OMG SHE LIKES ME?? I CAN'T BELIEVE SHE LIKES ME!" "should I seduce him?!?!??" because this seems like a no-brainer and there's zero actual stakes riding on this the way that there was with Belle and the Beast. Plus the people washing them down aren't their servants who are in the same situation as them, they're random gods from the Pantheon whose affiliation ranges from "family" to "never even had a conversation before". One of the women washing down Persephone has literally never spoken a single line of dialogue to her; another one of them was literally dumped by her partner because he wanted Persephone more than her. Who are these people and why are they enthusiastically appearing to give her a bath? Why is Hades being given a scrub down by his own brother?
And that's really the most striking difference between inspired references and derivative ones. Undertale was a game created by a guy who was in love with retro games like Earthbound and Megaman. Stardew Valley was a game created by a guy who loved Harvest Moon and used to play it with his girlfriend. Content that's built on the foundation of another is natural and the basis of inspiration, but you have to go further with it than just going "yeah this thing existed and I'm taking it", otherwise you miss the purpose of why those inspirations were created the way they were.
And when you don't actually explore how you can re-interpret those influences and add your own voice into them, that's how you wind up writing like Rachel whose writing is about as inspired as a cheap character swap cutaway gag from Family Guy.
youtube
Rachel's great at referencing, but that's not at all an impressive thing to do as proven by Peter Griffin. She's not at all re-contextualizing or expanding on what inspired her... but she still claims that she's exactly what she's doing because she calls Lore Olympus a "deconstruction". But her deconstruction only ever goes so far as "well what if Aphrodite left Ares for Hephaestus instead of the other way around?" and then just showing that question and never answering it or delivering on the potential of what that could cause. At best, she'll ask a "what if?" but then never actually show us the what if, it begins and ends with the question and the question itself doesn't provoke any thought deeper than "huh, yeah, that would be neat I guess." Episode's over, next scene. What if we showed that clip of Bill O'Reilly freaking out on set, but like, replaced it with Stewie Griffin and changed nothing else about it except for that? That's the joke, next scene.
I know, we're digressing hard off the fashion here, but the fashion itself is just a symptom of a much bigger problem that expands even beyond Lore Olympus - Rachel plays things way too safe. Even her responses in her interviews are painfully subdued, often resorting to the same tired answers that we've heard 823190589320 times before to the same hand-picked questions that are undoubtedly chosen ahead of time to ensure she doesn't have to answer anything too complicated. And when she does say "I have thoughts about xyz" she never actually... expresses her thoughts. She just says she does and then moves on without any further elaboration because she can't wholeheartedly commit to whatever thoughts she has going on.
Granted, I'm sure that part of that is owed to the fact that she might feel like she can't say anything while the critics are breathing down her neck. I can understand that. But it's gotten so chronic that it's now bleeding into the work itself and it's led to even more criticism of her work. Need I remind you that this is the same person who copy pasted the definition of "xenia" from a first result Google search into her comic instead of naturally writing it into the script:
Rachel played it so safe that she basically treated her own audience like kindergartners by explaining what a scene meant even after explaining it in the text:
As true as it is in fashion, writing stories and making art takes risks. That doesn't mean you have to completely throw caution to the wind, but if you don't take risks, you do yourself the disservice of writing something that can truly be called unique and special to you. If you don't use your influences wisely, if you don't analyze and re-analyze what's influenced you over the years, you're going to wind up losing a lot of subtext in those influences and missing out on the opportunity to add your own voice into the re-interpretation. Rachel does take a lot of risks in LO, but they're not calculated risks, they're not risks that actually have any meaning behind them, she's sort of just throwing stuff at a wall and seeing what sticks, and worst of all, when it doesn't stick, she herself doesn't stick to it, she backpedals, she cowers away from the decisions she's made.
Rachel expressed her worries about depicting fashion that would become aged, but Lore Olympus is already aged through her own inability to commit to her decisions, take risks, and find her voice. It's aged itself through its poor interpretations of the myth, it's aged itself through its reliance on Tumblr tropes that have already been replaced tenfold, and it's aged itself through Rachel herself riding off the initial innovation of creating Lore Olympus and then never continuing to challenge herself or raise the bar for herself.
It proves true the discussion around why Lore Olympus became popular - at the time, it was groundbreaking, drawn in a style that we hadn't seen much of before, with fresh new takes on the myth; now, in 2024, its 'takes' feel tired and half-baked, and its art style has become a corporate-scrubbed shell of what it once was. And yet, Rachel is still rewarded for it all the same, so settling for comfortable mediocrity has become the name of the game.
Rachel may be trying as hard as the Disney life action remakes and Kim Kardashian to put herself on the same pedestal as the greats of yesteryear simply by copying what they did, but in playing it this safe and refusing to find her own voice out of the voices that influenced her, Lore Olympus isn't timeless. It's soulless.
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Almost a decade ago, in November of 2014, I became so exhausted by seeing people throw around the absurd claim that Dean/Cas fans made up only 1% of SPN fandom that I decided to prove how wrong it was. The most readily available data which didn't rely on conducting a survey or poll -- and was therefore a more accurate representation of actual fandom activity rather than just whoever happened to respond to a survey -- came from fic numbers on Ao3.
I made a post about it at the time (the pertinent figures are included below, or you can see the original post here) and then completely forgot about the entire thing. Until now.
Why? Well, largely thanks to a sudden resurgence of the same old nonsense this week, mostly cropping up in the comment sections of a couple of polls that crossed my dash. The temptation to check if there had been any significant changes to the fandom's activity since I last looked ten years ago was too strong to ignore.
Friends. Things have proven to be shockingly consistent.
With the same caveat from last time -- that this is only showing trends in the subset of fandom who actively uses Ao3, and therefore obviously doesn't take into account the "general audience" subset of fandom who don't participate beyond watching the show and occasionally liking a social media post -- here are the numbers:
Old count | November 9th, 2014 | 4 episodes into S10
Total SPN fics posted - 86,352
Fics listed as gen - 22,718 (26.3%)
Fics with Dean/Cas - 33,762 (39.0%)
Fics with Sam/Dean - 12,286 (14.2%)
Fics with Sam/Cas - 1,634 (1.8%)
Fics with Sam/Dean/Cas - 787 (0.9%)
The remaining 18.6% of SPN fics were non-gen fics featuring other character pairings, including reader inserts and original characters.
New count | May 28th, 2024 | 3.5 years after finale
Total SPN fics posted - 290,707
Fics listed as gen - 61,343 (21.1%)
Fics with Dean/Cas - 116,925 (40.2%)
Fics with Sam/Dean - 34,673 (11.9%)
Fics with Sam/Cas - 5,548 (1.9%)
Fics with Sam/Dean/Cas - 1,957 (0.6%)
The remaining 24.3% of SPN fics are non-gen fics featuring other character pairings, including reader inserts and original characters.
Notes on data:
All data was collected while logged in on Ao3 to ensure no incorrect counts were caused by hidden works.
There is some overlap within these numbers due to fics which are tagged with multiple pairings. This might be possible to account for if someone felt like doing more intensive data collection, but I've already spent about an hour and a half on this and that's already a lot more time than I'd like to be doing voluntary math. I enjoy statistics as a point of interest, but goddamn do I hate actually crunching the numbers.
It bears mentioning that Sam/Gabriel (5.1%), Sam/Jess (2.2%), & Dean/Reader (2.5%) all have higher counts than Sam/Cas (1.9%) & Sam/Dean/Cas (0.6%), however I didn't make note of those pairings in 2014, so I'm unsure if there has been any change.
I shouldn't have to say this, but literally all of us are just smashing our fave characters together like dolls, so as interesting as these numbers are this post is not intended to suggest that any ship is "better" than any other ship. This post is intended to do nothing more than show the available data which disproves a baseless claim about the size of Dean/Cas fandom within the larger SPN fandom.
TLDR; the percentage of active Supernatural fans on Ao3 who are interested in Dean/Cas as a pairing is significantly higher than 1%, and that has been a consistent pattern within the fandom for the past ten years.
#cass says things#fandom: supernatural#a post in which i get irritated enough by disinformation that i voluntarily do math#i wasn't planning on posting this anywhere tbh#but it was interesting to me and i figure someone else out there might also find it interesting#plus it gave me an excuse to make a couple of pie charts#also if you're about to start wank about this in my notes please consider... not doing that
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their reaction to making you squirt for the first time :3333333
- 🪼
omg omg omg i think about this a lot but never actually thought about how to articulate it >~<_.>^_^|>;3/“&’’’
yeonjun
he would be sooooooo cocky about it LOL.
he’s just so proud he did that to you, he made you do that. if you’re embarrassed about it and try to hide or cover your face he’ll hold your wrists to pull your hands away from your face followed by showering you in praise and compliments.
“look at me baby,” “you look so pretty like this” “good girl, you did so well” etc. he would absolutely ADORE you (and would probably have his lips attached to you once more to make you waterfall all over him again)
dare i add him saying something along the lines of “do that again on my face, fuck”
he makes sure to brag about it to his best friends :0
soobin
oh my god that man is a munch (do not ask me my sources)
idk man, he’s a slut for your pleasure. nothing turns him on more that getting you off.
seeing you lose yourself from his touch drives him insane. he’d do anything to watch you do it over and over and over again.
the first time you did it was when he was eating you out, fingers all the way inside of you, he practically worshipped you afterwards.
did i mention he’s vocal all while it happens? moaning into your cunt when your fingers tangle themselves in his hair, finding something to hold onto when your body’s squirming, overstimulated from him not stopping.
“ah fuck y/n, you’re gonna make me cum before i’m inside you”
beomgyu
he would be in awe. he would love it so much that he completely forgets about making himself finish that he puts all his effort and focus into making you do it again.
once it started, it never stops. he wouldn’t be satisfied unless he made you squirt. every. single. time. the two of you fuck, he seeks it out.
“just one more, you can take it my love” he’ll practically beg you to let him please you. to break you.
taehyun
absolutely obsessed with making you squirt. honestly, it makes his possessive side display more.
“look at the mess you made” “nobody else can make you feel this good” “who did this to you”
if you’re okay with it, he’d film it the next time to have something to use later on <3 once he does get to use the recording, he cums the fastest he ever has masturbating.
he swears nothing else has ever turned him on as much as watching you tip over the edge like that.
kai
HE LOVEEEES EVERY SECOND OF IT.
the first time you do it, it was so unexpected since you hadn’t always been a squirter. you both giggle at the sight, moaning in unison.
bonus points if you squirt all over his cock >.< it drives him insane, he literally cums at the sight of it.
i meant it when i said it drives him insane btw. after cumming, he’ll go another round (or two) (or three) overstimulating you both cause it got him that worked up.
#tomorrow x together#txt#taehyun#soobibabe#beomgyu#kang taehyun#kpop#soobin#choi beomgyu#choi yeonjun#yeonjun#kai#hueningkai#hyuka#soobin smut#smut#kpop smut#txt x reader#txt smut#soobin x reader#yeonjun x reader#kai x reader#taehyun x reader#beomgyu x reader
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we need more gf yujin... Mean gf Yujin well kinda cause we all miss babyboy Yujin.
🐝 (new anon)
i see the word “babyboy” and that’s all i focus on 😭 just realized i haven’t posted a drabble in a while so i’ll take a look in my asks and see if anything else catches my eye 🤓 (my neglected asks in the drafts r crying rn) n e ways welcome 🐝 anon! 💕💓
p.s. sub top yujin save me—
babyboy yujinnie dating older!reader… a wild puppy has been tamed! 😭 her friends are the first to notice that yujin doesn’t behave the same around you as she did with her previous partners! perhaps even tho that two of you were dating, she was intimidated by your maturity and how wise you were but really she was just whipped as fuck! whipped to the point of literally worshipping you? well yes! 🤤 she’d try to be as serious as you are but ultimately end up failing bcs you told her that you like it better when she’s silly, aka herself 🥴🥴
don’t be fooled though! as willing as she is to drop on her knees and do anything and everything for you, babyboy still tops 🤭🤭 she has this obsession with being your most perfect pet! making sure to memorize every inch of your body and find out which parts make you moan her name the sweetest, or the loudest… 😳 fucking you gets her rlly turned and by the time you’re shaking bcs she’s given you your sixth orgasm of the night, yujinnie would be so, so drenched but she ignores her own needs bcs all she wants to do is hear her name fall from your lips, feel your nails ruin her scalp, scratch at her arms, and hold her hand 🥺
and don’t get me started on pussy drunk babyboy yujin that finds all the right opportunities to eat you out wherever the two of you are! in your office? check. at some parking lot in the back of her car? check. a random bathroom stall? check. a private booth in an unnecessarily lavish restaurant? hell yes, check 😵💫 yujinnie knows how to ask nicely and that’s what she does 98% of the time bcs not only is your pleasure important to her but also your comfort 🥺 however… when her feelings are too strong, she simply just puts her hand in between your legs and start kissing your neck.. she knows it was a weakness, and her lips spread into a shit-eating grin every time it works 🙄💕
and those big puppy eyes of hers that she stares at you with as silently asking for permission every time she’s ‘hungry’?? they look 1000% better when they’re looking at you from in between your legs! 😍 yujin’s heart skipping several beats as she looked at your expressions while she does her work with her tongue.. she’s making you feel so good and she’s so proud of herself! 🥺💓 every time you praise her, she just wants more.. and so she gets better and better the longer she eats you out… not stopping even when your voice was all hoarse from screaming her name..
yujin doesn’t actually care if you crush her head with your thighs or suffocate her by pushing her face so close to your pussy that she almost can’t breathe.. it was the perfect way to die! 🤭 she only stops when you’ve tapped out, or told her to stop, or when she knows you’ve had enough.. but even then she’d give your pussy little kitten licks just to tease you bcs she loves hearing your whines since you get so sensitive 🥺🥺 ah and she works so hard drinking up all your cum, finding your taste as delicious as her favorite sweets, perhaps even better 😵💫💓
#🐝 anon#ive smut#ive x reader#ive x fem reader#ive scenarios#ive imagines#ahn yujin smut#ahn yujin x reader#ahn yujin x fem reader#ahn yujin scenarios#ahn yujin imagines#yujin smut#yujin x reader#yujin x fem reader#yujin imagines#yujin scenarios#girl group x fem reader#girl group smut#girl group x reader#girl group imagines#girl group scenarios
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Evidently never gonna be done with thoughts of these two... 18+, MDNI 4.8k
older!fem!Harrington!reader x eddie munson
cw: unprotected piv, finishing inside
cont'd from here
The ride back to the house is silent.
No music playing. No words being said. Just the rumble of his van’s engine and the spin of its tires making the floor vibrate underneath your feet. Eddie’s hands keep tensing, his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel never loosening as he navigates the deserted, winding backroads.
The trip that seemed to take only minutes on the way now stretches on interminably. Like when you wake up from a dream and the elasticized time snaps abruptly back in place and you realize your alarm has been going off for over an hour and now you’re definitely late for work.
You swallow thickly as you stare out the window at the blur of trees whipping past, your fingers twisting in your lap as you pick at the skin around your thumbnail. You rack your brain for some words, any words, that might be helpful. That might somehow fix this mess you’ve made.
But there isn’t a lot left to say after the lake.
Eddie, don’t, you can’t say stuff like that.
Why not? It’s the truth, it’s how I feel, I—
Because this can’t go anywhere! I’m leaving, I’m going back to—
Then I’ll leave too! I’ll go with you, I’ll go wherever you go, I just want to be with you.
Stop it, you don’t know what you’re saying.
He tries to tell you he does mean it. He means it more than he’s ever meant anything in his whole life. He doesn’t care about Hawkins or his stupid community college classes or his handful of odd jobs he could do literally anywhere. He’ll pick up and move. He’ll work. He’ll take care of you.
He’ll do anything so long as this doesn’t end.
What about Steve?
You stare at him plainly, certain you’ve delivered a death blow. And his face does flicker, if only for a moment, as the guilt that’s been festering in his gut for months finally shows through. And even as he shakes his head as determinately as he can, the waver in his voice is unmistakable.
I’ll…I’ll explain it to him.
Explain what? That we fucked on every available surface in his house?
Eddie shrank at your harsh words, not ready for the anger that flashed in your eyes, nor the vitriol that rose in your voice when you so crassly described the best summer of his life.
No! Well…yeah, but—I don’t know, I’ll figure it out!
Okay, and then what? We date? You practically spat the word out. Show up for Christmas dinner at your best friend’s house? Sit across the table from him as his aunt’s…as my…
You can’t even say the word “boyfriend”—it feels so juvenile, so high-school.
The argument drags on until the deep, brilliant midnight blue sky begins to tinge gray with the arrival of a cold and sickly dawn. Eddie probably would have kept going until the sun rose, until it hung in the middle of the sky, until it had set and come back up all over again. But you told him as calmly as you could that you had to go back.
It was time.
His van practically crawls to a stop in the driveway, the screech of his brakes mixing with the soft tweets of birds just beginning to stir. He shifts it into park and reaches up to grab the keys and cut the ignition, but you lay your hand on top of his to stop him.
“I don’t think you should stay,” you tell him, forcing back the wobble in your voice.
And the way he looks at you when you say it makes you feel like you’ve been stabbed. His face crumples, his brow pinching together, his mouth contorted in an ugly shape more snarl than frown.
“Don’t do this…” he says, gritting out the words through a clenched jaw. “Please.”
And it’s not the sort of begging you’re used to hearing out of him. It’s not an eager plea for you to kiss him or touch him, nor a cheeky request to fuck you somewhere you could get caught. This is real begging. It’s him clawing at you from behind a chain link fence, a lost puppy who wants only for you to take him home from the pound.
Not asking for anything but you.
“Eddie, we can’t—”
He reaches out for you, his hands coming up to cup the sides of your face, his touch somehow soft and tender despite the rigid tension you can see in his arms, in his back, in his shoulders.
“We can do anything we want,” he whispers.
His breath is warm on your lips as his forehead rests against yours. He really believes it. And god do you want to believe it too. But…
“I’m sorry.”
Tears brim along your lashline as you wedge your fingers under his to wrench them from your face, rushing to get out of the van before he can stop you. Your footsteps thud on the concrete as you retreat inside the house and lean on the door in the foyer until you hear him backing down the driveway and the glow of his headlights has disappeared completely from view.
You drift back upstairs, heading for your sister’s room that has lain untouched since they left. Past all the places you and he defiled this summer. Past your bed with its rumpled sheets that still smell of Camels and cologne. Past the guest room where Eddie barely slept, lying awake at night thinking of you instead. Past the answering machine and its flashing red light that signals a new message has been left, one you’ll listen to in the morning with bleary bloodshot eyes.
It’s your sister letting you know they’ve changed their flight. They’ll be home tomorrow.
Which is now today.
Having John and Viv back in the house is an adjustment.
Upon playing their message, you and Steve did a sweep of every room trying to get it back up to his mother’s impeccable standards you’d let slide since your arrival…in more ways than one.
You don’t see much of Steve’s father, which feels normal because you never do. Even after all the deals he closed this summer, he somehow only has to work more now that he’s home. Most mornings, he’s up and headed to the office before the rest of the world has hit the first snooze on their alarms. And some nights he stays until long after the rest of the house has gone to bed.
It gives you and your sister lots of time to talk. Well, it gives her time to talk. And the one thing she simply can’t seem to stop talking about is how incredible the yard looks.
She keeps looking out the windows and sighing wistfully as she stares at the haven Eddie has created. She starts to take her morning coffee, her afternoon tea, her evening glass of port out on the patio just to marvel at the perennials just beginning to flower. She’s beyond thrilled.
And you’re…fine. At least you can pretend like you are. Most days.
It’s easy to slip back into the state of numbness that was your home base after everything with your ex. But with him, you had just felt mad. There was no guilt or remorse eating away at your insides. No bottomless pit of doubt in your stomach, no needling thoughts of regret gnawing at you constantly. No part of you left wondering if you’d made a terrible mistake.
Or rather, another one.
What’s really not helping is Viv going out of her way to berate you about how you’re going about this all wrong. She’s quick to scold you for moping around the house, asking if this is what you’ve done all summer. She’s adamant you should be getting back out there—back on the bike or the horse or whatever other tired ass cliche you preferred.
It’s during one of these rants that the phone rings and mercifully cuts her off. Steve is calling. He left his lunch at home and he’s wondering if someone can bring it to him. Vivian grins.
“Your aunt would love to. She was just saying she needed to get out of the house.”
And she’s not wrong, even if it’s her and not the house you need a break from.
But as you make the turn into Family Video’s lot, your stomach drops at the sight of the brown and white van parked out front. Eddie’s long frame leans on the hood, unlit cigarette dangling out of his mouth, his hands resting on the hips of a girl he’s got pressed up against him, his fingers toying with the frilled hem of a baby pink top that flashes the bare skin of her lower back.
Your neck is as stiff as death as you walk past, keeping your eyes glued to the door in front of you, trying to ignore the breathy laugh that floats on the air and punctures your brain. You yank on the handle a little too hard, the silver bell overhead even louder in your already ringing ears.
Steve lets out a loud groan of relief when he sees you, or rather when he sees his lunch, and he tears into it right there on the sales floor. He’s the only one on today and the store is deserted— everyone likely at the pool or out enjoying the last few weeks of freedom and warm weather.
Or going for a gold medal in tonsil hockey.
You fold your arms across your chest and lean over on the counter, sneaking a glance over your shoulder you know you’ll regret. Most of the display going on outside is obscured by the decals and posters on the windows, but you can still see plenty. Eddie leans in to whisper something into that girl’s ear and you feel about as tall as the scattered crumbs from Steve’s sandwich.
As he chews, your nephew’s gaze follows yours out the window. His brows raise as Eddie grins and he starts to run his hands down the curve of her spine, slipping them snugly into the back pockets of her jeans. Unable to see the grimace on your face, Steve just nods approvingly.
“About time,” he sighs as he rips off another bite. “He’s been like…catatonic lately.”
The sourness in your stomach only curdles further until you mutter out a goodbye to Steve and turn to make your escape. But the very moment that you do, that girl is taking Eddie by the hand and pulling him along behind her into the store. You and she nearly collide at the door, close enough you can smell the sickly sweet peach lip gloss she’s wearing.
“Oh! Sorry, ma’am,” she says, blithely smiling as she floats over to the new releases.
Behind her, Eddie stands staunchly in the doorway. He takes up the entire exit, his dark clothes seemingly absorbing all the light in the room as you lift your chin to look him in the eye.
You expect to find contempt. Something callous and unfeeling. More than merely smug, you’re sure he will be dripping with arrogance and condescension. Because he’s got every right to be, doesn’t he? You really think I cared about you? Don’t you see how fast I can replace you?
But when you do look at him, there is only pain etched into his features. He holds your gaze for no more than a few seconds, but it feels like an eternity. You think that all of civilization could be crumbling into ruin around you and you would never know because you can’t stand to tear your eyes away from his. And you don’t, until he drops his head and turns sideways to let you pass.
His cologne stings in your nostrils as you do, and your arm brushes the edge of his denim vest. And you don’t make it but a block away before you have to pull off onto a side street and cry.
For the next two weeks, the sky is permanently gray.
Dark and mottled clouds roll in sometime that evening and suddenly even the smallest sliver of sunshine becomes as precious as real gold. Their coverage is dense and the air becomes thick and muggy with humidity that only gets more oppressive, yet never gets any closer to breaking.
Every day, the house seems to get smaller. It’s like you’re a rat in a maze and the scientists who are studying you keep removing portions of it until you’ve been boxed in with no escape. But the idea of going out, the thought of running into Eddie again, is too much for you to bear the risk.
The only thing that brings you any sort of solace is that the school year will start soon and you’ll have work to distract you again. Truthfully, the only reason you have yet to extract yourself from Hawkins is because your new housing—a little craftsman you’re going to rent from the head of your department at the university—won’t be ready for you to move in until the end of August.
But the looming threat of your departure somehow only encourages Vivian.
You should have known something was up the moment she said she wanted to have a “family dinner” to celebrate your last night. You should have known when you came into your room and found a bag from her favorite department store sitting on your bed containing a sundress far too floral for your taste. It might as well have had a post-it on it that said “Wear Me” like your mother used to put on your school clothes when she laid them out for you in the morning.
If you were smart, you might have thrown it out the window. Or maybe even climbed through it yourself and scaled down the trellis to make a run for it. Instead, you put it on. And your feet are like lead on the steps as you come down to find your sister bustling around the dining room.
Your brow furrows as you count four place settings. “I thought Steve had a date,” you say.
“He does,” she hums, shooting you a sidelong glance. “And so do you.”
“Viv, no. Please don’t do this—”
“I haven’t done anything!”
She throws her hands up and smiles, but all the faux innocence in the world can’t disguise that glint of mischief in her eyes. You open your mouth to protest, but you’re cut off by the doorbell.
“That must be him,” she titters, flapping a napkin behind you to shoo you into the foyer. “Go on, now, don’t keep him waiting!”
Eddie parks his van down the street from Steve’s house, under the cover of some tree branches that hang low over the road. He smokes two cigarettes down to the filters and debates on a third as he tries to summon the courage to get out of the car. Every part of his body seems to be at odds with him, unwilling to settle until he finally kicks open the door and gets out.
His feet carry him forward in long, determined strides but they falter when he sees a car he isn’t expecting sitting in the driveway. It’s a cruiser. One Eddie found himself pulled over by on more than a few occasions, being scrutinized by the giant hulking man now ringing the doorbell.
Hopper.
He’s not in uniform. In fact, he’s more dressed up than Eddie has ever seen him, all trussed up in a sport coat over a button down that he’s actually buttoned. Shit, is his shirttail tucked in?
“Munson?” he says in surprise. “What brings you here?”
But before Eddie can answer, the door is opening and it's you on the other side. Eyes widening when they land on him and then blinking furiously when you realize Hopper is there as well.
“Um…hi.”
It’s hard to say who looks more uncomfortable as you step aside so Hopper can come in and you exchange some stilted pleasantries. You remember him from high-school and you aren’t all that surprised the town’s terminal bachelor is the one your sister has decided to foist upon you.
What is surprising is that Eddie is here. And his eyes are searing into you, while you have yet to fully acknowledge him. In all honesty, you're not entirely convinced he isn’t a hallucination. Only when Viv appears and glides into the chaos like a parade float do you actually believe it.
“I thought that was you, Chief. So glad you could make it—Oh, Eddie!”
Her eyes fall on the boy still hovering in the doorway, her hand coming up to her chest.
“I’m so sorry, dear, but Steve’s already left for his date. Wait right here, though, I have some money for you for all that work you did.”
“No, you don’t have to—”
Eddie takes a hurried step forward, his white sneakers finally breaching the threshold. Vivian is already gone, though, rushing up the stairs. Leaving you alone. With both of them.
“Hey…Hop. John’s in the den, if you want a drink,” you tell him, pointing the way.
With a terse nod and a gruff sound you presume is him answering in the affirmative, Hopper heads down the hall and leaves you and Eddie to your uncomfortable hovering. He leans on the narrow table in the entryway, staring at his own hand as he traces the edge of the wood with his finger, the rest of his hand closed in a fist. He won’t look at you now. Won’t lift his chin an inch.
“What are you doing here?” you whisper.
Eddie just shrugs, staring now at his sneakers he’s scuffing against the oriental rug under his feet. His mouth parts slightly, but no words come out. His chest rises with the breath he draws, but he swallows his non-response when he hears Vivian at the top of the stairs.
“Here you go, dear,” she says, handing over the envelope full of cash with his name written on it that’s been sitting on her bureau for weeks now.
His head shakes. “You really don’t have to—”
“Nonsense! You did such beautiful work out there, it was so wonderful to come home to. You ought to think about going into landscaping.”
Vivian just about forces the envelope into his hands and he mutters out a thank you, tapping his fingers on it and making furtive glances towards the door as she whirls around to you.
“You two met, right?” she asks. “He must have been here all the time working.”
“Y-yeah, yes, we—”
“Thank you,” Eddie says, stuffing the money into his back pocket and reaching for the doorknob in one motion. Still not looking you in the eye. “I’ll, um…I’m sorry to disturb you…”
He goes to leave, one foot already out the door when she suddenly stops and looks back over his shoulder. You feel your breath catch, his gaze finally lifting to meet yours.
“Have a good night,” he says quietly. And then he’s gone.
The door doesn’t slam. He doesn’t even shut it particularly hard. Still, you can’t help but flinch as it closes soundly behind him. There’s something so final about it, but it doesn’t feel like enough after everything that’s happened—it doesn’t feel right for it to end with something so hollow.
Vivian just smiles and loops her arm with yours.
“Ready to go find the boys?”
You walk Hopper to the door after dinner, more or less coerced into it by your sister.
There’s a slight scuffle as you try and figure out how to say goodnight to one another. He winds up reaching out a hand as big as a bear’s paw and clumsily pats your shoulder, almost like he is one, when he seemingly can’t decide between hugging you or shaking your hand.
Chuckling through it the best you can, you keep the same fake smile you’ve worn all night firmly plastered in place until the door closes with him on the other side. And you stand there for a minute, not too keen on going back in the kitchen for your impending cross-examination.
But then your eyes land on the vase sitting on the table in the entryway. More specifically, on the folded piece of paper tucked behind it with only a ripped edge peeking out.
You reach for it, flashing back to a ringed finger tracing the edge of that table, fist clenched around something, and your hands shake as you unfold it to read Eddie’s note scrawled inside.
I’m parked down the street.
It’s just starting to rain as you hurry down the driveway, skulking through shadows as you walk along the quiet street. In the distance, you can hear the rumble of the approaching storm as fat raindrops hit the top of your head and slide down your scalp through the forest of your roots.
A pitch black sky overhead matches the road under your feet, scantly lit by a lone streetlight. The wind picks up as you look around for Eddie’s van and just when you’re starting to think he must have left already, you spot him on the side of the road under the cover of some trees.
At first all you can see is the glowing orange dot at the end of his cigarette, but his face steadily comes into view as you approach the driver’s side door. A blatant attempt to avoid what you know will happen if you climb in the passenger seat.
The rain starts to fall a little harder as he rolls his window down. It soaks the ground at your feet, clouds of steam rising from the pavement. The air is thick and heavy, like standing in a bowl of soup. It has your shoulders sagging with the weight and your lungs struggling to draw breath.
At least that’s what you let yourself believe.
“How was your date?” Eddie asks with a bitter laugh that does little to disguise his disgust. You shake your head, pushing back a wet piece of hair clinging to your cheek.
“It wasn’t a…It was just dinner.”
The hurt in your voice makes his eyes round and soften, cheeks hollowing as he takes a long drag. Seemingly breathing in as deeply as he can to steady his own frayed nerves.
“I was afraid you might have left already,” he says.
“No,” you tell him, eyes falling to your feet. “Not ‘til tomorrow.”
He nods.
“I, uh—I know I shouldn’t just show up like this. But I wanted to tell you…” His jaw is clenched, bottom lip shaking almost imperceptibly, corners of his mouth turning downwards as he stubs out his smoke. “I need you to know that I don’t regret it. Any of it.”
He lifts his gaze to meet yours on the last words, brown eyes like twin black holes that hold all the mysteries of the universe. There’s a terrifying vastness to them, a depth you’ve only barely scratched the surface of. Your lips press together and you pinch your eyes shut as your hand creeps up to rest on the door, fingers curling around it as raindrops splash on the interior.
The thunder only gets louder as the storm nears, the rain now falling in a rapid patter. Here it is, you tell yourself. This is what you knew was coming. This is where you knew you’d end up.
“I don’t regret it either,” you say, raising your voice over the sound of the rain, forcing down the tremble in it. “And I…I’ll never forget it.”
You can only hold his gaze for a second before you have to look away. And as you do, you give the door a tight squeeze, wishing it was his hand instead.
“Bye, Eddie.”
Your feet carry you away like you’re on autopilot.
You’re barely conscious of the steps you take or the direction you head in as the rain ramps up to a downpour and fully soaks through your clothes. Your head is spinning and foggy, unable to register much of anything until one sound breaks through—the creak of the van door swinging open and slamming shut, followed by the splashing of water under sneakers.
The solid weight of his hand on your shoulder makes you start as he turns you towards him, the rain falling harder and the wind blowing faster all around. The trees overhead whip back and forth in a frenzy, their branches dipping low and their leaves swirling wildly in the air.
“Eddie, someone could see—”
He wraps his hands around your wrists to wrench you closer, pulling you into his body, both of your faces splattered with rain, barely able to see anything beyond each other.
“Let them,” he breathes out before his lips slam into yours.
The sound of the storm is only magnified inside of Eddie’s van, every drop of rain on the metal roof practically deafening as you climb through the rear and your bodies slide against the floor. The carpet inside is rough and scratchy, the fibers imbedded with decades worth of dirt and crumbs and tobacco and weed particles, but you can’t find the will within you to care.
All you can think about, all you can focus on, is him.
His kiss is harsh and punishing, lips mashing rough against yours, teeth clacking as he devours you. Aggressive and bruising in a way that, deep down, you know you deserve.
Your wet clothes cleave to your bodies as you struggle to drag them off, steadfast in their refusal despite your feverish attempts. Eddie’s jeans and boxers only make it to the middle of his thighs before he’s pushing inside of you and a strangled moan releases from his throat.
The stretch makes you writhe, the stinging pain quickly becoming an afterthought as your need for him overrides everything else. You fist his wet shirt in your hands, rivulets of water trickling down your forearms as you clutch it tight to pull his body as close to yours as it can get.
Adrenaline races in your veins as he begins to thrust and you realize it’s the first time he’s taken you bare, the velvet of his skin dragging against your walls with nothing to separate you.
He fucks you fast and hard, your legs kicking up to wrap around his waist, your ass burning from the friction, your muscles tightening and tensing with every move. His whole body is quaking as he drives himself inside, the van rocking, teetering like it’s about to tip over the edge of a cliff.
He fucks you like it’s the last time he’ll get to, because he’s pretty sure it will be.
“Let me come in you,” he groans in your ear, more command than request. “Want to fill you up, want you to feel every…fucking…drop…”
The words are grunted out in time with his thrusts, his hips pushing deeper with every heaving breath, his cock twitching inside you as your walls pulse and tighten around him.
“Fuck, Eddie, oh my god!”
Your fingers weave into his wet curls, twisting them in your grasp at the root, tugging his head up and holding him there so you can stare into his eyes, your own vision strained in the dark.
Lightning flashes through the windshield, followed instantly by a clap of thunder. So close it could have struck right outside. For an instant, the van is illuminated and you see his face fully—eyes wide and wild, hair half-dried in damp coils, tattoos stark against pale skin that glows white.
It only lasts a second, but it shows you everything you need to see.
“Come, Eddie,” you gasp as the lightning dissipates and the whole van rattles from the force. “Want you to come for me, come in me—”
And he does. As fast and hard as the lightning strike, Eddie’s cock bursts with rope after rope of his release spurting inside of you, your center tingling as the feeling of it spreads throughout your body. The noise he makes in your ear is ungodly. It pours out from deep in his throat, guttural and resonant as the echoing claps of thunder. He drops all of his weight onto you, shaking from the force of his orgasm as you’re flattened between him and the floor.
“It’s okay,” you coo softly, your fingers loosening your grip on his hair to stroke it instead, nails dragging soft and slow against his scalp.
He shivers at your gentle and soothing touch, inhaling shaky breaths of you with his face pressed to the juncture of your neck and shoulder. Safe and dark and warm.
“I love you,” he says, his voice cracking in a dry sob as his tears slide off his cheeks to mix with the rainwater and sweat on your skin. Your throat clenches as you swallow, still trying to force down the words that have sat heavy in the center of your chest for weeks now, fighting to be said.
Finally, finally, finally, they make it out.
“I love you too.”
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#eddie munson#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x reader#eddie stranger things#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson blurb#eddie munson angst#eddie munson smut
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THE WIFE
izuku midoryia x reader
synopsis: you’ve been asked to do an interview after your husbands cute little story blew up. now it’s your turn to express your love for him
authors note: to the anon who did the ask i am SO SORRY. i posted it by accident then fucking deleted it in a panic.. don’t worry though i got the gist of it! for the people who don't know it was getting the reader's POV of how they fell in love with izuku as well. also sorry if i went a little off track. i js wanted to give reader a lil opinion and personality ☺️
you can find part one here
this was out of your comfort zone.
you sat in a plush chair across from a woman who was currently fiddling with the microphones. your husband izuku had done an interview with a popular podcast about a month ago. it wasn’t only popular because he was the number one hero. there was a charm to the episode that others couldn’t fake. the way he talked about you as if you showed him colors for the first time. everyone loved it.
now people really wanted to get into the lives of the midoryia’s, which included you. about a week ago you had gotten an offer to be on another podcast. you made sure to check out some of her work before you leaped into it.
the host's name was aiya, and she was absolutely amazing. not only were you laughing with the one episode you did listen to, but so did izuku since he was kind enough to watch with you.
"are you ready mrs. midoryia?" aiya asked going to put on the headphones. taking your own set of headphones, you placed them on as well.
"i am! plus you can just call me y/n. i really don't mind"
"thanks for letting me know," she clicked a button on her computer which started the camera up "hello everyone! it's aiya here! on this special episode we have the wonderful, and very lovely y/n midoryia in the building"
you gave a shy smile and waved to the camera "hello everyone!" you faced the aiya letting her smile ease your tensions "i just wanted to say thank you before we start. not only for inviting me on your podcast, but just being so respectful and kind as well"
aiya nodded placing both hands over her heart "you're just too kind! but girl you don't have to thank me for doing the bare minimum"
"no i really do have to. because there are a lot of other people out here that i've talked to and are not as professional and sweet like you. it's really crazy" you shook your head when you heard yourself start to get off topic "i'm sorry i don't want to control this whole interview. i think i got the rambling from my husband through the years"
both you and aiya laughed at your statement.
"don't worry about it! this is not a place where i will every cut you off from rambling, seriously. plus i want to get into some of that as well. what is your experience with the whole ‘being a wife of the number one hero’ thing? like you said before people can be unusually cruel to you for absolutely no reason"
you scoffed dramatically making aiya laugh.
"so when people ask me this in person, which has never happened ever" you made direct eye contact with the camera before turning back. this had aiya laughing more now than before "being married to izuku is great, but being married to deku can be.. iffy on my end. does that make sense?”
"yes and no"
"okay so what i mean is that being deku's wife is stressful. not only because of the major backlash that i get from the internet, tabloids, and gossip shows, but also because of my safety. the backlash is something that doesn't go away but gets easier as time goes on. for me it was easier to just laugh at how stupid they are. like one article called me fat, cool, but then another one from the same company called me pile of bones skinny" you tilted you head slapping one hand down on your thigh "now you just look fucking stupid because you can't pick one and clearly can't run a business. cause like how didn't you know that both of these articles were coming out?" you shook your head "they piss me off more than make me upset"
aiya listened carefully letting you go on with your rant.
"but when i say i love being izuku’s wife i really mean it. i love that man more than i love anyone else. i love the way he looks when he wakes up in the morning. i love the way he gets excited every time we see cows when we're driving. he is who i was meant to be with and i believe that with my whole heart. i see deku and izuku as two totally different people because i get to see it from both perspectives. i can understand how some people might not understand where i’m coming from with this and that’s okay. this is just how i’ve been able to express the way i feel about the whole situation”
“wow.. thank you so much for sharing your point of view on things. i hope this really opens the eyes to some of the haters out there”
“ugh me too” you played with the ring on your finger “i feel bad now. when this episode airs i can just imagine what he’s gonna say, ‘oh so my episode was me spewing my undying love for you and all i get is i hate my husband?’”
the two of you laughed thinking about it.
“no, but we’ve seriously talked about it before and he understands where i’m coming from. i love that he’s so understanding about everything”
“speaking of love,” aiya pulled out a piece of paper coming from her lap “we’ve got questions”
you clapped your hands together excitedly.
“oh! hit me”
“okay so of course deku did a podcast episode where he made all of us singles jealous by describing the moment he fell in love with you. so now people are wondering what was the moment you fell in love with him?”
you had been preparing for this question ever since you read the email.
“i actually fell in love with izuku pretty early in our relationship. maybe like a month in? i’ve honestly had a crush on him since year one, but we never got the chance to interact.”
it was early off in your third year when you had come down with a bad fever. the only reason you could assume the sickness took over you was because everyone had just moved back into the dorms. bringing whatever kind of diseases they wanted back.
“hi izuku”
the phone was placed on the pillow beside your head. you didn’t have enough energy to hold it up. hell, you’re surprised you even had enough energy to accept the call. everything on your body was just hot. they only thing you felt you needed was a cold compress on your forehead, but getting up just wasn’t an option at the moment.
“y/n you’re making me worried. are you sure you don’t need recovery girl?”
“i should be okay,” you stopped in the middle of your sentence to take in a long breath “plus i don’t think she could help with what i have anyway”
izuku was slipping on his training uniform as he was talking to you. he didn’t know if you could hear yourself, or if you even cared, but he could probably picture what you looked like. comforter thrown to the floor. medicine bottles scattered on your dresser and not knowing which one to choose.
“are you sure you don’t need anything?”
“i should be fine izu. just focus on- on training for the festival. bye now”
izuku had wanted to get a couple more sentences in to ease his anxiety, but you quickly hung up the phone without a second thought.
once you found yourself a semi-comfortable position you took the chance of drifting off to sleep.
the nap lasted about thirty minutes before you woke up to the feeling of a cold compress being laid onto your forehead. slowly, your eyes opened to reveal your boyfriend making sure it was in the right spot.
“izu” you mumbled going to sit up but he placed his hands on your shoulders laying you back down.
“nope, you’re resting”
he still had his training uniform on from the time you had called him.
“but you shouldn’t be here. you should be training”
the newfound coolness on your forehead felt amazing, and part of you wished he had came sooner.
“i can take a day or two off. it’s fine”
you shook your head gently.
“i don’t want you to miss it because of me”
“y/n are you me?”
“no”
“are you my teacher?”
“no, but-“
“then don’t worry about it. your health means more to me than training. i’ve been working hard for the past two years, so if i have to take a day or two off to take care of my girlfriend then i’m jumping at the opportunity”
it was right then and there you felt some of the weight lift of your shoulders. this felt like confirmation of what you had assumed you were feeling from the moment you first saw him.
you loved him.
you loved him so, so much.
taglist! @sagejin 🫶🏾
lmk if you’d like to be added
#honeipie#anime#bnha x reader#mha#writing#x reader#drabble#izuku x reader#izuku midoriya#mha izuku#bnha izuku#deku x reader#mha deku#bnha deku#my hero academia#bnha#izuku midoryia x you
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Bridgerton shade of blue
Benedict Bridgerton x Female Reader
The Viscount is set on finding a wife this season, and you are trying again for your second season. While Anthony is dealing with trials between Edwina and Kate Sharma, you are dealing with trials of your own. Benedict Bridgerton is ever present in your life, but your pursuit to find a husband must come first. Society is ever so exhausting.
{Masterlist}
{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}
Season Two
Chapter Nineteen - Together again
You had sat your mother down when you got home. She called for tea, and you sat down beside her, wondering how you were going to tell her the news. Your poor mother had been stressing out since she revived the letter from your uncle, your father's brother, about taking back his money to support you both while in London.
"Mother, I... Our situation may have come up with the Bridgerton's earlier, and I have recieved a very generous offer from them." You start slowly.
"Are you to wed one of them?" She sits up in her seat, looking at you eagerly. Of course she would assume that.
"Um, no."
She looks rather deflated with your answer. "What is it then?"
"The Viscount has offered to take me under his wing and set me a dowry aside. We don't need to rush to find me a husband. Anthony will look after us. Violet had offered to help find a suitor."
Your mother now looks elated. "Oh, darling, that'd wonderful!" She hugs you.
You smile. You feel like a huge weight has been lifted off your shoulders.
"Oh, this is wonderful! I must send the Dowergess something in return. My gratitude to that family will be forever endless."
You chuckle at how excited your mother is. You haven't seen her this cheerful in quite some time. It felt good to see her smile again.
"Flowers! I shall send her an abundance of flowers!" Your mother rises from her chair and goes off in search of a maid who she can send down to the flower shop. You roll your eyes with a smile.
Things were looking up again.
A couple of days later, you're at the Bridgerton house. It's as lively as you remember it being last year. Eloise was practising some dancing with Gregory while Violet watched on. Gregory didn't seem to mind dancing with his sister, but Eloise seemed to mind quite a lot. You knew how she felt about this whole thing.
Benedict was sitting on the couch nearby. You were sitting opposite him, watching them the two siblings dance.
"I do not think she is very good," Hyacinth says, coming over to sit with you.
"I believe she can hear you," Benedict says to her in response.
"I can hear you," Eloise confirms.
"Ow! Watch my feet!" Gregory looks up at his sister after she steps on his foot.
"Might we be done?" Eloise asks.
"If you are to catch the queen's eye after that interruption, you must be perfection." Violet states.
"I believe it was the interruption that was perfection," Eloise sighs.
"Shocking that Eloise Bridgerton was not named the season diamond, was it not?" Benedict says casually.
At that exact moment, Anthony comes strolling in. "Was anyone else aware that dear Colin has decided to add Albania or some such place to his itinerary as he gads about the world?"
"How wonderful it must be to travel," you say softly.
"I rather prefer the comfort of the countryside," Benedict comments.
"I do miss the country."
Benedict looks up from his sketchbook, of which he has been working very hard on, to look at you. "Then you need to come to our family estate."
You find yourself looking away shyly. He's still disappointed he didn't see you all summer.
"How lucky for him that he can simply decide to do that," Eloise remarks.
"Joining us for tea, Anthony?" Violet asks.
"Uh, I'm afraid I must pass. Too many calls on my funds today. Now that the season has started, I need to fill your coffers at the modiste and oversee the hiring of extra staff. And your ring. When you get the chance, I need it."
You look at Anthony silently. He was serious.
"The fields by Ferryhallow. I was thinking we might hold off on leasing them due to the hard frost." Anthony continues.
"I beg your pardon?" Violet looks at her eldest son.
"The frost hardens the soil, saps it of nutrients," he explains. "That is very well, but you requested my ring?"
"Father's betrothal ring."
"Did someone catch your eye at the presentation, Brother?" Benedict asks with a grin.
"I thought all the young ladies looked beautiful," Hyacinth chimes in.
"Not particularly. And all the young ladies looked the same. Like young ladies. I'd simply like to be prepared for when the opportunity presents itself," Anthony clarifies.
"The opportunity?" Violet asks.
"I've already compiled an index of the season's eligible misses and arranged interviews."
You look at Anthony in disbelief. He was serious. Those poor ladies.
"Interviews!" Violet chuckles. "Dearest, I shall be more than happy to give you my ring when you find someone with whom you are very much in love. Besides, it is in safekeeping at Aubrey Hall."
"Very well."
Violet slides up to the sofa Benedict is lounging on and looks at him. "See that he is quite well."
"Me?" Benedict asks, looking up at her.
"I'm not in need of coddling," Anthony says from across the room. "I assure you all, everything is in order."
Anthony checks his pocket watch and then takes his leave rather quickly. Everyone watches him go in silence. You turn to look at Benedict once Anthony is gone, and he just sighs, looking back at you.
Anthony Bridgerton was a stubborn fool.
Later that afternoon, while Eloise went to the market with Penelope, an endeavour you were not invited to take part in, you spent the hours with Benedict in his makeshift studio. He called it a studio, but it was merely a room he came in to sketch quietly away from his family.
You liked that about Benedict. The way he finds comfort in his own little bubble. He cared very little for society and all its trails. He was more tranquil.
You watch him sketch away, his attention deep into the pages in the book. Last year, he granted you the privilege to come see his hobby. He shared his work with you, and you complimented it. Even now, you had had no idea just how much you had impacted him and his art.
He rubs gently at the charcoal on the page, smudging it carefully. You watch with great interest as he examines his work. He pulls a slight face. While he decides if he likes it or not, you admire him.
Benedict Bridgerton is handsome, kind, funny, and gentle. He has an eye for detail and a smile to charm any lady who is lucky enough to witness it.
He would have no trouble finding a wife of he wanted to.
The thought makes you look down at the table quietly. It would be so easy for him to find a perfect match. Someone who compliments him and would look after him. You are not so lucky.
Though you hope to catch someone's eye at the ball tomorrow night, you won't hold your breath. You're not a pretty Bridgerton.
"Are you alright?"
You look up and meet his beautiful blue eyes. You swear you've never seen a shade like them before.
"Yes. Sorry. I've just been thinking."
"I can see that," he chuckles.
You smile softly and turn your eyes back to his book so you won't have to look at him again. "Do you ever plan on getting married?"
"Has mother put you up to this?" He teases.
"No, I just... You'd make a good husband."
"Is that what you've been thinking about?" He chuckles. "If I can help it, I'll remain a bachelor."
"I see." You sigh softly. You shouldn't be surprised. You won't mention marriage again to him.
Benedict watches you for a moment and then turns the page in his sketchbook. He sketches away quietly, glancing at you every so often. You don't even notice, too caught up in your thoughts again.
You were so beautiful when you were loat in your mind. No. You were beautiful all the time. Benedict hoped you knew that.
He did the best he could in a short span of time, taking in as many details as possible. You were a vision in his eyes. When he was sat fired with the sketch, he put his book down on the table and slid it over to you, nudging you out of your thoughts.
You look down at the book and see the sketch of you looking back.
"Benedict... you're so talented."
He chuckled softly. "I just want you to see yourself the way I do. I know how important it is to you that you find a husband and look after your mother. You'll find someone."
You look into those beautiful blue eyes and for just a moment with that he would be the one.
You look away. "Thank you."
Benedict also finds himself looking away. Perhaps he had been a little too forward there. However, he doesn't regret telling you what he thought.
You only sit there a few moments more before excusing yourself and heading home. It felt a little strange staying there for any longer.
Benedict sat alone in that room, unable to draw anymore. His mind was preoccupied now.
He wished you had stayed.
When you got home, your mother noticed how quiet you were. She watched you retreat upstairs alone. You wanted to call out to you and check you were alright, but she didn't.
You stayed up in your room for the rest of the afternoon. Only coming down for dinner. Your mother didn't ask why you had become so quiet. You would tell her if you wanted to.
It wasn't until you finished dinner that you spoke up. "Mother?"
"Yes, dear?"
"I'm going to make you proud. You know that, don't you?"
Your mother smile. "You always make me proud."
You smile back. You knew she meant it. Despite everything you and she had been through with losing your father, losing the country house, your uncle backing out of looking after you, you still had each other and you would make her proud. Every single day.
"I'm going to look after you," you tell her.
"You don't need to worry about me."
"I always do."
You both smile at each silently.
You swore to yourself there, and then that this year, you would do better. This year, you will find your place in the world.
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#Bridgerton shade of blue#benedict bridgerton x reader#female reader#Bridgerton#dragon writes#season two
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Steel Here
(Boothill x Fem!Reader)
cw-: Body dysmorphia, slight talks of hating themself, other than that fluff fluff
🎀 authorsnote: Rn I'm feeling like my body isn't great so I used this fic to sort of get it out! And it actually felt great!
please don't steal my work!
Boothill’s quietly sitting in his room that you begged him to have on The Astral Express. As his girlfriend you've been trying to get him to stay around more and he adores it.
But it also gives him more time to really think...and he doesn't know if he likes that part.
Ok...he hates it. He hates that fact that he has to see himself when he passes a mirror, he hates it when he feels his cool steel against his face, he hates how he can't feel your hugs...
Boothill stands and looks in the mirror, flexing his mechanical arms softly and glancing over his fake abs. He shakes his left metal leg and sighs.
He hears the small mechanical noise of his bedroom door and looks over to it. He smiles softly as he sees you.
“Hey sweet thang...” He shoots you a warm smirk, trying to cover up what he was doing as he quickly sits on his bed. You glance over at the mirror and back to him. Piecing it in your mind what exactly he was doing. “What do ya need hon...?”
You're silent as he asks. No response as you just blink. Your eyes communicate to him that you want him to tell you what you saw.
Your boyfriend sighs a little. Placing his head in his hands and closing his eyes.
“Don't gimme that look...” He breathes, obviously frustrated as he looks back up at you, “Fine...I'm startin' to wish I was me again...I don't want this body anymor'.”
"Oh honey..." You whisper softly as you sit next to him on the bed. You place a hand on his back but remember he won't even be able to feel it...
“See...now would ya look at that...?” Boothills voice drawls, he places a hand on your thigh and sighs as you shiver at the cold metal. “I...guess this is ma' life now..." He scoffs softly. "Can't even curse...it's all 'muddle fudger' this and 'fork that' and 'son of a nice lady'..."
"Boothill sweetheart..." You whisper as you lean against him. "Don't say that..."
Boothill hesitates on resting his temple against your head, he doesn’t need his body reminding him that part of his ridiculous body is only metal.
But he doesn’t know what else to do to comfort himself. He’s frustrated to the moon and back, frustrated at being in this body he doesn’t want.
“I don’t think you understand, darlin’” Boothill whispers. “I miss the me I once was. I just… don’t feel quite like myself anymore…”
"You're still...my Boothill..." You pull away gently and grasp his cheek.
The corner of his lips quirk upwards at your words, but the warm touch and caress of your hand on his cheek still doesn’t feel the same. He wishes of his could feel the same kind of texture he once thrived from and took for granted in his human skin...not just his face.
It’s almost...cold to him.
“You’re the only one who can remind me of the old me that’s still lyin’ somewhere underneath this piece’o’junk body.” He murmurs.
"It's not a piece'o'junk..." You imitate him with a smile. "Boothill... you're amazing just the way you are..."
There you go smiling. If there’s anything that’s capable of changing his mood for the better, it’s you.
Boothill gives you a chuckle. “Look who’s sweet talkin’ who now,” his voice is a bit more lighthearted than previously. “You’ve gotta stop bein’ like this darlin’. You’re gonna make me blush.”
You smile softly and kiss his cheek. "Honey...look at me..." You take his face in your hands. "I love you..."
Boothill smiles, feeling your lips press against his cheek. His hands find their way to your wrists, gently caressing them and wishing he could feel your skin. He knows it's definitely a lot warmer than the cold of his steel.
“You’re a real charmer, y’know that?” He says, his voice low and amused. “I don’t reckon I can look anywhere else when ya say things like that.”
"Now...how can we make you feel better?" You hum softly in his ear.
“You have no idea how bad I want that...” Boothill replies with a grin. He pulls your face closer to his and whispers into your ear. “But you’ve got to keep those sweet words of yours comin’.” Boothill’s voice is low and seductive. “I’m starvin’ here, darlin’.”
"Pamper Queen tonight aren't we?" You laugh, placing your hand on his chest.
“Only for my darlin’.” He teases, placing a hand over yours and gently rubbing his thumb against your skin. Boothill’s other hand caresses your cheek. “Let’s be frank; you’ve gotten me spoiled rotten, and I ain’t mad about it.”
Your face contorts into a look of pure thought. "Here...since you give me massages sometimes..." You get up and walk over to his closet.
Boothill’s curious as his gaze follow your movements, hands resting on the arm rest. He wonders if you’re looking for something specific.
“Whatcha lookin’ for, darlin’?” He asks, tilting his head to rest his cheek on his metal palm, fingers pressed against his chin.
"How about we polish your metal?" You pull out some wax and a waxing machine.
Boothill’s expression changes into something resembling a mix of disbelief and shock, then into amusement as he bursts into laughter. He had an expectation for what you were going to do, but this wasn’t it.
“Is that a euphemism for something I’m not gettin’?" He jokes, his laughter trailing into a playful smirk as he watches you closely.
"Well...I don't know the equivalent of a massage for cyborgs!" You whine playfully.
Boothill chuckles as he playfully rolls his eyes at you. “Oh, I’m certain a few people out there would call this ‘metal maintenance’ or something.”
He then rises to his feet. “And I wouldn’t mind havin’ ya give me a good ol’ metal maintenance, darlin’. But I hope you know I’m ticklish in some spots.”
"How are you ticklish..." You murmur and plug it into the wall.
Boothill chuckles again, crossing his arms as he gazes down at the metal machine in your hands. “I’m ticklish ‘round my neck and behind my knee, believe it or not. I ain’t kiddin’.”
He walks over to you and stands before you, a grin spreading on his face. “I’ve got a feelin’ you’re gonna use this as a weapon against me, aren’t ya?”
"Phantom tickles on the knee I guess..." You hum and fire it up. "And it's NOT a weapon..."
“Aww, shoot… and here I was, thinkin’ you’d give me a break.” He quips, shrugging his shoulder and letting out a small chuckle.
In truth, Boothill is a little excited for you to polish him. “How are you at polishin’ machines, darlin’? Cause it ain’t gonna be clean if you don’t know what you’re doin’...” He teases as he glances at the polishing machine, then back at you.
You hesitate and cough. "I'm...great?" You quickly get to work before he can question anything.
Boothill raises a brow as he eyes you with a small, amused smirk. He has a feeling you're definitely not good with these machines.
“I’m sure ya are.” He teases, a small, playful chuckle falling from his lips.
While Boothill initially stands still, he can’t help but feel a little ticklish as he can feel the machine polish the outer surface of his thigh. “Careful with that…”
You giggle softly as you keep polishing his metal body. You slide up to his neck and carefully polish it.
A soft, amused chuckle leaves Boothill as he can’t help it. Your gentle polish on his neck is a little ticklish, which causes him to tense up from the sensation. He’d definitely describe it as ticklishness. He rests a hand on the back of your head as you polish his neck, caressing the underside of his fingers against your skin.
“Oh, what a sight to see. I’ve got my pretty lady polishin’ me to perfection.” He teases.
"D-Don't distract me or I'll move!" You whine.
“Distract you?” Boothill murmurs, his lips tilting into a small smirk. “I’m just complimentin' you.”
He gently moves your chin with a finger, guiding it to meet his gaze as he gazes down at you. “And don’t move. I like the way your beautiful eyes look when you’re focused on me.” A tease disguised as a compliment.
You freeze as your heart pounds in your chest...which was not the best move because the polisher slides right off him and shoots at the wall.
A small gasp leaves Boothill when he watches the polisher slide off him. But then he bursts into a hearty chuckle, his hands resting on his waist. His eyes are closed while he laughs, and when he’s done, he glances at the wall where the polisher’s been launched into.
“That wall didn’t do nothin’ to deserve that, darlin’...“ He teases through stifled giggles.
"Y-Yeah well...you distracted me!" You whine before sitting in his lap.
Boothill pulls you onto his lap and rests his chin on your shoulder, his arms naturally wrapping around your waist. As you lean against him, he can see the machine embedded into the wall from the corner of his eye. He shakes his head and laughs again.
“You’re a feisty one, aren’t ya?” He teases, nuzzling his face to the crook of your neck and trailing his lips against your skin.
"It's not like I did it on purpose..." You mutter into his hair.
Boothill lets out another chuckle, feeling the warmth of your breath against his head. “I know you didn’t.” He murmurs, letting out a low sigh that’s a mix of contentment and relief.
He gently presses his cheek to the top of your head, his fingers gently rubbing your waist. “I’m just teasin’ ya, darlin’. You wouldn’t hurt a fly. ‘Sides, look at the bright side.” He adds. “At least the machine didn’t land on my toes.”
"You don't even have toes!" You blink and roll your eyes.
Boothill’s expression turns into a grin as he laughs, pulling you closer to him. “See? Told ya you’re the feisty one.” He teases, tilting his head to kiss your temple. He places another kiss on the top of your head, savoring the feeling of your warmth against his.
“Maybe I don’t have toes.” He begins, placing another kiss on your cheek. “But this body’s got everything else ya need.”
"See that's my Boothill..." You smile warmly. "Don't think of yourself the way you were before...and if you do...let me know?" You whisper.
As he hears your words, a soft smile forms on Boothill's face. He places a hand on your cheek, gently stroking the side of your face as his other rests on your waist.
His eyes look deep into yours with affection, and a corner of his lips quirks upwards. “That's a mighty good offer ya’re givin’ me here, darlin’. But I’d rather you stop me from thinkin’ like that before I could.”
"Now that is a better plan..." You smile before leaning in to kiss him.
Boothill’s eyes flutter to a close as your lips press against his, a warm fluttering feeling erupting in his chest. The kiss is slow and tender, and he melts against your touch as he pulls you a little closer and into his embrace.
Once the kiss ends, Boothill opens his eyes and sighs, feeling calmer and a lot more pleasant than before.
“You’re way too good for this broken ol’ geezer.” He whispers affectionately.
"Boothill...honey... you're not even old!" You laugh softly and nuzzle against him.
Boothill lets out a low chuckle, his hand gently caressing your skin as he leans into your touch. "You sure about that, darlin'? I feel like a relic with all this metal on me."
He glances down at his metallic hand, flexing his fingers. Then, he looks back at you with a smile. “But as long as you’re tellin’ me otherwise, I guess I ain’t.”
"That's what I thought~" You press a kiss to his forehead.
A smirk spreads on Boothill’s face as he watches you kiss his forehead. He lifts a hand and gently caresses your face, his thumb rubbing your skin.
“Ain’t you a precious one?” He muses, his grin widening as he gazes at you. “I reckon I ain’t that old after all.” He adds, his teasing tone laced with an affectionate edge. “What gives you the right to be so adorable?”
"I'm your girlfriend, it's my job!" You smile warmly.
Once again, Boothill’s gaze falls into yours, and he feels a flutter in his chest at your words. He rests a hand on your waist, caressing your skin with the back of his cold metal fingers.
“You’re right,” he murmurs, a warm smile spreading on his face as he nods. His eyes lock with yours, and he lifts a hand to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear.
“And I reckon you’re doin’ a real good job at it, darlin’...” He adds, his voice low, warm and affectionate.
"Y'know... I'm always going to be here..." You smile. "Hey, hey!" You start to giggle. "I'm 'steel' here..." You joke.
Boothill lets out a loud laugh, shaking his head as you throw in a joke. He takes your hand and intertwines his fingers with yours, lifting it to his lips and planting a kiss on your knuckles.
“You’re real clever,” he murmurs, his eyes crinkling at the corners as his smile grows wider. In all honesty, he appreciates the effort you’re putting into cheering him up.
“Ain’t a doubt in me that you’d always be here for me, darlin’.”
You kiss him one more time. This time more passionate and love infused. As you pull away you smile. "I'll always...be here..."
The unexpected passion in your kiss catches Boothill off guard and leaves him breathless. As you pull away, he lets out a low gasp, his grip on your hand tightening just a little.
When you declare your promise, he presses his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as he lets the moment sink in. He feels a wave of warmth wash over him, and he whispers back.
“I’ll be here for you, too, darlin’...”
🎀End🎀
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