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b00kdiary · 3 months

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Could I request Azriel and Plus Size reader where they’re both new to the mate bond and she overheard Azriel and Rhys’ conversation about the “Cauldron being wrong.” She left before she was able to hear Azriel call himself a fool for even believing it for a second, knowing that he’s already kissing the ground his own mate walks on. She starts comparing herself to Elain and then starts lashing out, going to Rita’s every night and avoiding Azriel whenever she sees him.

Cauldron Blessed | Azriel

Azriel (ACOTAR) x Plus Size Reader

Warnings: Mature themes (18+), swearing, body-image issues, angst, and eventual smut.

MASTERLIST - 1 and 2

'The Cauldron was wrong, so wrong.'

Those words played and replayed in my mind again and again, all day, every day, for the last week.

Wrong.

He said that the Cauldron was wrong- about us, about me.

Me, his mate- wrong.

It had been an accident, me overhearing them that night, a coincidence I had decided to come home early from my girl's night with Nesta, Gwyn and Emerie. Though with the Cauldron, there was no such thing as an accident, no such thing as coincidence.

I'd waded through the House of Wind, tipsy on wine and giggling softly to myself as I banged into the walls, thumping clumsily against the art pieces hanging and tripping over my own two feet. Giddy, I had been giddy, stumbling through the halls in search of him.

Azriel, my mate.

Only a few hours apart and I missed him, yearned for him, I felt the distance as if it spanned miles and the more I drank, the more I craved him. That's all I had been thinking of when I trekked through the empty halls, closer and closer to the lounge- just of my mate.

And that's when I heard it.

"The Cauldron works in mysterious ways," Rhysand's laugh drifted out to me in the corridor, and I came to an unsteady halt at the sound. "Feyre was my salvation; I didn't expect anything good to come to me Under the Mountain."

I smiled to myself, my hand coming to my mouth, shielding any sound that threatened to slip past- Az always teased that my lips loosened when I drank too much. Instead, I lean against the cold wall, warmth filling me as he gushed about my High Lady.

They were Cauldron blessed, that was clear to see.

"I think five hundred years of waiting for her was enough, brother," Cassian snorted, and I heard the faint sound of liquor pouring into a glass, wings rustling as one of the powerful males moved. "I know I never imagined my mate as a twenty-five-year-old human female, with a bite worse than mine."

I bit my lip as Cassian laughed, a loud, bellowing sound, so full of joy, so full of content, the mere memory of Nesta, human and utterly indomitable against him something that still brought him to his knees.

"The Cauldron must have a sense of humour," Rhysand teased, and I could practically envision Cassian rolling his eyes, a vulgar gesture thrown between the two males. "Connecting people in the most unexpected pairs, in the most unexpected ways."

"Like Elain and Lucien," Cass scoffs, loudly chugging back the remnant in his glass, "There's a pair I could never have foreseen, not in a thousand years."

"Proof that the Cauldron isn't always right," Azriel muses for the first time since I arrived, and my body almost croons at the sound- low and rough, moving over me as sure as if it were his hands. "She deserves better than any male friends with Tamlin, that's for sure."

She deserves better.

It was silly I knew, for the mere mention of her, the thought of her to make me feel nauseous, make my smile instantly fade, but I couldn't help it. It was hard for me to see a female as lovely as Elain Archeron and not feel inadequate by comparison.

Another who was blessed, so lovely that she had been gifted her seer abilities by the Cauldron itself as if her beauty and delicate demeanour weren't gift enough.

"Brave words, Az," Rhys whistled, and I had to force myself to blink away the picture-perfect image I had conjured of the middle Archerson sister, forcing myself to focus on their conversation instead. "Openly opposing the Cauldron."

"Brave or stupid?" Cassian counters tauntingly, and I knew he was drunk just from how loud his voice was, practically bouncing off the walls. "You think the Cauldron makes mistakes?"

"I know it does," Azriel challenges and it was that voice, that sure, quiet demeanour that I adored and desired so fiercely. I inch closer to the door, grinning at the idea of popping out and scaring them- but then he says it.

Says the thing that makes me stop dead in my tracks, makes my heart stop dead in my chest.

"Look at me and Y/N," Azriel sighs, and there's no joy, or adoration or yearning in his voice in memory of me, not like Rhys or Cass- no, there's dread. "The Cauldron made us mates... the Cauldron was wrong, so wrong."

There's a loud crack that echoes through the room, and it's that sound, and the feel of sharp debris against my palm, that pulls me from my memories. I blink through the tears, looking down at the crumbling marble sink, the corner pieces breaking off into my hands.

I sob through my teeth at the sight, small cuts leaking stark red blood down my fingers as I bring my hands to my chest. I can't see the looking- glass before me, not through the haze of tears, tears so strong it's as if I were made of them.

As if they had become a part of me.

It was all I had done the past week, cry and cry and cry- and avoid Azriel.

Every morning I skip training and breakfast, feigning fatigue or a full stomach, just so I wouldn't see him there. Each afternoon I'd get lost in the stacks and stacks of books in the library, so vast and endless that Azriel never stood a chance of finding me in the maze.

And at night I'd find solace wherever I could find a drink- Rita's, taverns, the Music Quarter, anywhere. Anywhere but at home, anywhere that I didn't have to see him.

I couldn't bear it, couldn't bear the sight of his face, even now the thought of his tilted smile, the beam of his soft hazel eyes, the touch of his scared hands and wild shadows, it made my whole body wrecked with sobs.

I couldn't bear any of it anymore- because none of it was real.

Every smile and touch, every kiss and moment where our bodies joined as one, where he confessed his love and devotion to me, it wasn't real. Azriel thought we were wrong, a mistake, a confusion, just wrong.

My hands shook as I wiped the tears from my cheeks, rougher than necessary, blood-smearing, but I was tired of tears, I was tired of crying, of feeling so unworthy. I was unworthy of him; he was beautiful inside and out and deserved so much better than me.

I sniffed as I lifted my gaze to the looking glass before me, and my heart hurt at the reflection, knowing that this was what Azriel saw, that this was why he knew the Cauldron was wrong. Every curve and roll and inch of flesh that I had, all of it, it was all wrong.

And I hated myself for it.

Wrapping my arms around myself, I take a step back and then another step, away from the reflection that taunted me, and mocked me, before forcing myself to look away. I swallowed against the dryness in my throat as I moved across the cold floor of my bathing suit, my body desperate for my bed.

And as I step over the door's threshold, and back into my old room in the House of Wind, I know it's not the same as when I had left it ten minutes ago.

He was here.

"Azriel," I gasped, halting at the sight of him- sat on the edge of my bed, his broad shoulders and powerful wings rising sharply at the sound of my voice, those hazel eyes meeting mine and filling with something honeyed and warm. "Wha- what are you doing here?"

He rises from the bed, elegant and still, his shadows dancing around him at the feel of my presence, the scent of my skin, and I shiver as he watches me, keen eyes gracing my stiff figure.

"Y/N," He sounds almost relieved as he says my name and my breath is caught in my lungs as I stay rooted to my spot, and he seems to sense my unease, as he doesn't move any closer to me. "You've been staying here for a week now; I missed you at home."

Home- the apartment we shared in town together, a cosy space that we had made our own.

Another thing I couldn't bear to face.

"I've been catching up with the girls," I say quietly, ripping my eyes from him and walking forward on numb legs. I tug at the hem of my nightshirt, his nightshirt I had stolen, feeling too bare before him and his eyes narrow at the movement. "It's just easier to sleep here when we have plans every day."

As spymaster it was Azriel's job to scrutinise, to observe and I felt every single part of that slot into place as he watched me now, watched as I moved toward the bed. I wasn't looking at him, I couldn't hold his stare- and he couldn't figure out why.

His shadows dance through the room, through the distance between us and I jolt, biting my lip when one brushes against my bare thigh- before scurrying back to Azriel in surprise. He inhales a sharp breath when his shadow whispers to him, telling him that something is wrong, I was wrong.

"I know you've been spending time with the girls," Azriel continues slowly, his voice tentative and soft as I move to the other side of the bed, furthest from where he stood. "I just feel like I haven't seen you at all... I miss you, sweetheart."

Sweetheart.

A sob threatened to rip from me at the name, so soft, so endearing on his lips and it took everything in me to not fall apart at that moment, to not crumble under the weight of it all. I shake my head, my back turned to him now and he watches as I tug back the duvet, my actions angry now.

"It's only been a week Azriel," I breathe through my clenched teeth, my tone so at odds with his and my body locking tighter at the sound of his impending footsteps. "Sometimes space can be good, it can be eye-opening, show us things we don't want to admit but know deep down."

My words hit him head-on, like a slap across the face- I don't need to see him to know it, I can tell just from the stillness in the room, the silence, so strong that even his shadows have withered.

I clench my eyes at the feeling, at the touch that strokes against my soul, him reaching out to me through the mating bond- and me slamming up every wall I have to keep him away.

"What does that mean?!"

I don't hear him until he's right behind me and when his large hand touches the small of my back, I jolt, stumbling into the bed to get away from it. I turn on shaking legs to face him, and I'm pressed into the mattress to keep the distance.

"What? Y/N-" His face pales, and I see the pain in his eyes, unlike anything I had ever witnessed from him before. It was raw, vulnerable as if five hundred years of existence couldn't hide the hurt, knowing that I had flinched from his touch, flinched from him.

A rejection- something he feared the most.

"Sweetheart, please, I don't understand," He shook his head, his beautiful face twisted into an agonised frown, and his voice trembled, weak, as weak as the hand that now reached for me, shaking as if scared to touch me. "Why won't you let me touch you? Why are you pulling away from me, why-"

He stops, and for a moment I think it's because of the tears steadily leaking down my face, the way my bottom lip trembles with the effort to hold myself together- but it's not. His nose flared, and the hazel in his eyes turned dark, narrowing down upon my hands.

"You're bleeding," He mumbles hoarsely and the pain in my chest triples when his scarred hands inch closer, my eyes fluttering shut the second he touches me, holding my palms in his and examining the small cuts. "What happened, sweetheart-"

"Don't! Don't- don't call me that, don't touch me," I croak out, my voice breaking and Azriel flinches at the cry in my voice, wings rustling when I yank my hands-free from his hold, as if his touch burned me. "Stop pretending, stop making me think you care, just-just stop."

"I don't understand, what do you mean pretending-" He pleads, his voice splintering, and I can see him thrumming with emotion, desperate to reach out to me, to hold me, but trying to respect what I had asked him. "I don't understand, help me understand what I did wrong-"

"I know how you feel about me, a-about us," I sob, my weak hands coming to my face, and I cry into them, so loud that nothing can muffle them, and I feel Azriel's' helplessness down the bond, still reaching for me, "It was cruel, to make me think-to make me think you loved me-"

"I do love you!" He snarls and my eyes snap open when I feel the familiar roughness of his hands against my wet cheeks, his grip unrelenting and needing as he draws me to him- and I don't have the strength to fight him. "Of course, I love you, why would you say that?"

His thumbs brush away the tears that won't stop leaking from my cheeks and somehow my fingers have found purchase in the material of his shirt, nails digging desperately, clutching him as tightly as he held me.

"You said it was wrong," I whisper, the words slurring in my throat, and I force my heavy eyes to his, force myself to look into those teary hazel eyes and confront him, with the burden I had been carrying alone this whole time. "You said that we were wrong, that the Cauldron was wrong."

His forehead creases, lines forming between the thick, dark brows as he peers down at me, and his hands don't release me, if anything they draw me closer.

And I see the moment realisation hits him, like ice-cold water seeping through his veins.

"I heard you talking to Rhys and Cass, you said we were proof," I gasp, feeling his shadows curl and wreath around my wrists and fingers, as if afraid to let go, as if trying to comfort me as I sniff. "You said we were proof that the Cauldron could be wrong, so wrong."

"I didn't mean you, Y/N, I would never mean you," He beseeches, his breath caressing my face, my lips and his eyes are so intense, so vibrant that I can't look away, "I didn't mean you, I meant me, I'm wrong!"

I suck in a harsh breath at his outburst and I feel it then- the self-deprecation, the vulnerability, the fear, it was all aimed at himself, it was all about him.

The silence stretches on as we stare at each other and my face must hold every ounce of my surprise and confusion, because he sighs, his forehead resting against mine. I see his wings sag behind him, as if defeated.

"I don't know how much you heard but I did not mean that the Cauldron was wrong to pair you with me," He mutters, his words unsteady, and my eyes flutter shut at his words, "I meant that the Cauldron was wrong to pair me with you- the Cauldron has blessed me but forsaken you."

"Azriel-" I gasped, and it was now my hand that lifted between us, my hand that cupped his stubbled cheek, forcing his eyes to mine. "That's not true, I'm not forsaken, I'm blessed, I'm Cauldron-blessed, Mother-blessed to have you-"

"Y/N you deserve the world, the sun and the moon and the stars," Azriel's voice breaks, a sob gurgling in his throat as he nestles against my palm, now wet with his tears. "I have spent five hundred years being unworthy of anything, and now that I have you, I will spend the next five hundred being unworthy of you."

He felt unworthy of me, he thought that he did not deserve me.

"Don't say that don't- you've given me the world and more," I shake my head, forcing every inch of surety and strength into my voice, "I love you, so much, so much that the thought of you thinking we were wrong, it killed me Az, because you're all I need."

He shakes his head against my hold, but his hands slip down my back, down my waist and to my hips and thighs, fingers digging into my flesh, holding onto my meat for leverage and pressing my soft body against his firm one for dear life.

"Not once did I ever think you were the problem, I thought it was me," His brow furrows deeper at my words, and I see the denial in his eyes, in his face, "I see a male who is beautiful inside and out, who is powerful and skilled, who has been a saviour to this Court in so many ways and I can't come close, I can't ever be equal to that Az."

"Y/N, no-" He growls, nails carving crescent moons into my flesh.

"I'm not a warrior like Nesta or a ruler like Feyre," I continue, and I open up the walls I erected to keep him out from my soul and mind, letting the mating bond flow freely again- to let him see all I had thought these few days. "I'm not beautiful like Elain... I'm not enough."

"You are everything," He hisses, and I can feel his overwhelming pain as sure as if it were my own as he graces over my feelings and thoughts- as he takes in every disgusting, horrific thing I had thought about myself, about my body. "You are everything and more to me, Y/N."

Power flashes through his eyes and then his head ducks toward me, capturing my lips in his.

Time seems to slow when his lips meet mine in a gentle collision, the kind of impact that steals the breath from my lungs, the kind I can't get enough of. Azriel grumbles at the taste of wine on my mouth, his tongue lapping at mine as if devouring the sweetness.

"Azriel," I sigh, like putty in his capable hands, and like always, he's skilled with how he handles my body, so easily turning us so my legs hit the mattress, my body weightless as he lifts me to sit on the edge.

"I have seen you navigate politics and arrogant High Lords in a way that has us all on our knees," He mutters against my lips, and I croon at the feel of his hands languishing up my thighs and hips, squeezing the flesh, his eyes dark with desire now.

His nose brushes against my cheek, so bare, as he kisses and trails his tongue along my jaw, moving down my neck and I can't do anything but moan softly as he lies me flat on my back, his powerful body towering over me, covering me wholly.

"I have seen you cut down soldiers triple your size as if they were little more than weeds in a field," His canines scrape against the racing pule-point at my neck and my eyes flutter, neck exposing for him and back arching when his hand cups my breast over my shirt.

He settles between my thighs, and he groans when his hard length brushes my wet core, the smell of arousal heavy in the air, the kind of stimulation that made us both dizzy with need. I arch my hips up to meet him, needing to feel something, anything from him.

"And I have seen males and females alike marvel at your beauty, at your body, desiring to see you without a scrap of clothing on," Azriel's voice turns furious, dark, as if the mere thought of someone else seeing me naked made him violent, honed to kill.

"Az, please," I mewl, fingers clawing at his back, feeling the muscles ripple under my touch, his shadows in a frenzy, caressing and dancing and wreathing around my body, feeding off every moan that escaped me. "I need you Az, please."

He presses long, wet kisses against my jugular and I sigh in relief when I feel his body shift, hips lifting and the sound of a belt clinking as he unhooks his slacks, freeing his hard length from within.

"I love you, sweetheart," His head lifts, face tight with sincerity and I can feel the thumping of his heart against mine, those intense eyes capturing me wholly. "I love all of you, I love all that you are-"

"Body," His fingers hook into my underwear, and I gasp as he tugs the wet material to the side, fingers brushing my clit.

"Mind," Our sounds meld as he rubs the tip of his cock against me, parting my folds, spreading my arousal from my entrance to my clit, and his breathing deepens as I whimper.

"And soul." He pushes into my entrance, stretching me just from the tip and automatically, my thighs clamp around his hips and my back arches at the feeling of him.

"I love you, Y/N," He pushes in until his long, thick length hits my cervix and my cunt is stretched thoroughly, throbbing around him. I trace my hands up his arms, nails scratching along every muscle, every strong, lean plane of him.

"I love you too, Azriel," I whisper back, and when my eyes flutter open, I see him above me and I know that nothing else, no one else could feel this right.

He doesn't move, merely staring down at me, his eyes burning like embers- feeling the thought as intensely as I did.

The Cauldron was right, so right.

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

@mis-lil-red @hyemishii @assaultsofthought @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @loveareum @infintyfandoms @sarawritestories @eerievixen

Comment to be added to the tag-list >3

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel smut #cassian acotar #rhysand #acotar smut #smut #plus size reader #azriel x plus size reader #acotar fanfiction #sarah j maas #sjmaas #plus size smut #plus size y/n

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hopelesslyromanticshark · 2 months

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Hii, could you please do a Percy x daughter of Hecate headcannons pls?

⋆⭒˚.⋆ percy jackson x daughter of hecate! reader hcs

content: percy jackson x daughter of hecate! reader hcs warning: language but like...one or two???? author's note: i tried v hard with this one. idk why it took me so long anon. tbh, i was scared bc i don't really know a lot about hecate so then i had to do some homework and even after that it still feels v cliche but whatever. i like parts of it and i hope YOU like parts of it too.

"wanna see a magic trick?"

was the first thing percy said to you, a wide cheeky smile on his lips as he desperately tried to hold his laugh in

you were a little stunned at his sudden appearance but then his terrible, terrible joke had you fighting off laughs of your own

"i think that's more my expertise, don't you?"

que the both of you cracking up

that's the beginning of the end fr

percy buys you a crystal every time he goes somewhere

every. single. time.

even if he's going somewhere crystals should not be, he will go thirty minutes out of his way to get you a crystal

then, when he proposes, on his knee and holding out the little box, propped open, he's like:

"out of all the crystals i've given you, i think this one's my favorite."

BRO WTF WTF WTF WHY AM I CRYING IM IN CONTROL HERE??????

moving on

(it's your favorite too)

MOVING

you and hazel??? besties

she gives you crystals and gems and whatnot and you give her tarot card readings and sage for the hade's cabin

also, percy starts wearing those crystal bead bracelets, a purple one to remind him of his pretty witch wherever he goes

you wear a shell bracelet for a similar reason

if either of these broke, let's just hope nobody is within a three mile radius of them or those people will have a serious condition of death

also, sally jackson is you're #1 fan, even if she's a little confused.

once for christmas, she gifted you a stack of playing cards, which you took without question

she explained that percy mentioned something about you and cards and she figured it was a sweet gesture to get you some new ones

you didn't have the heart to break it to her, proudly taking the pack of playing cards

then you asked for a reading and you had to bullshit the whole thing, sweating the whole time

"Oh, ummm ace of spades. usually a sign of, uh, good ventures coming your way!"

"ooOO, very cool!"

percy had to hid in the bathroom he was laughing so hard

she also texts you all the time, blurry photos of rocks and gems, asking if these would be good for protection or love or whatever sally was after at the moment

the windowsill in the jackson apartment is filled with a variety of rocks, each with their own protection over the apartment

you came over one day, no percy, and just did it with sally, explaining every crystal and bundle of herbs as you went

sally always smiles when she sees it

percy does too.

also, percy def calls you a multitude of witch themed nicknames

bro fr comes up with a new one at least once a day

creative ass mfer

also, you shyly gave him a card reading, once and the amount of times you ran into the lover card left you a blushing mess

percy couldn't stop laughing every time you flushed a vibrant red, not evening needing you to tell him which card it was as he could tell from your face.

but, you always list off all the facts of the cards, musing on and on about percy's future love life or his future job

and he tunes you out, just staring bc he doesn't need to know

as long as he's with his magic girl, he doesn't really care what happens

#postcards from covey ౨ৎ #pjo #pjo fandom #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #percy jackson x reader #percy pjo

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navybrat817 · 1 month

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Eva, this is an attack!

Sweet as Candy

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky thinks you're the sweetest thing he has ever tasted. Word Count: Over 500 Warnings: Established relationship, fingering, implied explicit sexual content, being in love, slight feels (it's me, okay?), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: I wanted to do something more, but the muse refused and we don't push. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky was quiet throughout dinner, which wasn’t unusual. Most nights he was content to listen to you and all of your friends talk about your day or trade stories about parts of missions that you could discuss. Even when Steve, Sam, or anyone else spoke, his piercing blue eyes stayed glued to you. As if your reactions were more important than the words everyone else spoke.

But tonight, the menace had his eyes on you for a completely different reason.

“Buck, you aren’t eating much,” Steve noted as he helped himself to another plate.

“I’m in the mood for something a little sweeter,” he replied.

Your boyfriend didn’t look toward his best friend when he brought his hand to his lips and softly smiled. Sitting across from him you tried to close your legs, but he had his foot between them the moment you sat down. The unsubtle bastard inhaled, smelling your arousal that lingered on his fingers and it took every ounce of strength to not whimper when his tongue darted out to lick along them.

All because he couldn’t keep his hands off you not even a half hour ago.

“Need to be inside you,” he rasped, nipping your earlobe as he reached between your legs. “You need it, too.”

“Bucky, we’re late,” you moaned, making no move to stop him as you pushed your hips back against him, rubbing the growing bulge as his hand moved along your folds. Wet, as always. Once upon, you were a woman who never needed or craved anyone. He changed that.

But since he ruined you, it was only fair that you ruined him in return.

“You love having my attention. If you didn’t like it, you wouldn’t have worn this skirt,” he said, ignoring your words as he unbuckled his pants. “And if you didn’t want me to fuck you, you would’ve worn panties.”

A shiver rolled up your spine when his other hand grasped your chin and forced your head toward his. Your head spun when he pushed his tongue past your lips, two fingers slipping inside you where they belong. If your kisses were like wine, his were like whiskey. You got drunk on each other.

“Look at me,” he ordered when he broke the kiss, a whine slipping out when he removed his fingers. He raised his hand up, your heart pounding as he licked the first finger clean. His eyes stayed locked with yours when he licked the next, groaning sinfully. “Sweetest fucking thing I’ve ever tasted.”

It was almost a warning before he stuffed you full of his cock.

“And the sweetest fucking sound you make is saying my name when I make you come.”

Bucky clearing his throat brought you back to yourself, the earlier memory fading to the back of your mind as his smile widened. One look from him and it disarmed you. Left you breathless. Ignited a fire within you. Filled your heart.

“Love you,” he mouthed, giving his fingers another lick.

You clenched around nothing and smiled. “Love you, too.”

And maybe, just maybe, you’d give him a bit of candy for dessert.

Bucky is a menace and we love him for that. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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corroded-hellfire · 2 months

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Reading AYW things has me thinking about Eddie and Reader sniffing baby Eliza right after they bring her home and she’s got that fresh baby smell and Luke and Ryan are like “what are they doing?”

-cj. @cheesewritings

Just out here fueling my own baby fever. Please enjoy some lil baby Eliza 💕

Words: 1.2k

[As You Wish masterlist]

Less than a month has gone by since you’ve given birth to your and Eddie’s baby girl and yet so much has changed. Your hormones still give you mood swings from time to time. Eddie feels a bit more tired than usual between being up at odd hours of the night and trying to make sure you and Eliza are being taken care of while still keeping Ryan and Luke’s normal weekly routine going. The boys dote over their baby sister, but their sleep has definitely been impacted as well by the high-pitched wailing that comes just down the hall every night. One morning at breakfast before school, Luke fell asleep with half of his face in his bowl of Corn Flakes.

But every small discomfort is well worth it to have the most beautiful baby girl you’ve ever seen. Her eyes already threaten to be as wide and doe-like as her father’s and you know you’ll be in deep trouble then. The soft wispy baby hairs on her head are similar in color to Eddie’s and her eyebrows have the same arch as his. Eliza absolutely has your nose and lips though. Your husband swears it’s as if God copy and pasted the features right from you to your daughter. Whenever she smiles though, you see her brothers. It may still be gas for her at this age, but the smile that upturns her pretty pink mouth is the spitting image of what you see on the faces of your sons. Munson charm in full effect.

Evenings have been the most unpredictable so far. Will Eliza be awake? Asleep? Hungry? Fussy? Happy? Content? Not to mention what Eddie or the boys will be like.

Tonight is a good night, though. The boys are down the hall playing video games in Ryan’s room, and you and Eddie are cuddled up on the couch, Eliza snuggly cradled between your arms. Spider-Man is playing on the television, but you’d both forgotten about the movie the second that your daughter woke up, about fifteen minutes into the superhero flick.

“Oh, look what a big mouth you have!” you coo as your daughter releases a tiny yawn, as if she hasn’t spent most of her day sleeping. You envy the hours of rest infants need.

Eddie gazes down at her adoringly and the love shining in his eyes threatens to have your heart burst right through your ribs. It’s no secret that he’s always wanted a daughter and it’s still dizzying to think that you’re the one to give that to him.

Soft, gurgling baby noises come from the baby’s mouth as she looks back and forth from you to her father. Both you and Eddie chuckle when she lifts her small arms above her head, then on the way down stops to stick her tiny fingers in her mouth.

“God, she’s perfect,” Eddie muses, and you’re not sure if you were meant to hear it or he was just thinking aloud. Either way, he’s right. Every little thing about her has captured your heart.

Slowly, Eddie leans forward and presses his lips to her soft forehead.

“And she smells so good,” Eddie adds, making you giggle.

“I know!” you agree. “What is it about that new baby smell?”

Gently, you lift Eliza so her head is more level with yours and Eddie’s. As one, you both lean in and inhale the scent wafting off your daughter. The baby doesn’t seem to mind, but it looks like she’s trying to figure out what you’re doing by the way she keeps looking at you. And she’s not the only one.

“What are they doing?” Luke mutters to his older brother from where they stand off to the side of the hallway connecting the living room to the rest of the house.

“Smelling her,” Ryan answers with a shrug.

“Uh, why?” Luke furrows his brows as he watches the scene on the couch in confusion.

“Seeing if she needs a diaper change? I don’t know,” Ryan says.

“But they’re smiling. No one would ever smile around one of Eliza’s dirty diapers,” Luke says, having plenty of experience to back up that claim.

“Maybe they washed her hair,” Ryan offers with another shrug. “I don’t know, I guess she just smells good.”

Luke’s quiet for a moment before he tilts his head up to look at his brother.

“Do they ever smell you?”

“No,” Ryan says with a sigh, this conversation already exhausting him.

“Do they smell me when I’m not looking?” Luke asks, more rhetorical this time.

“Yes, we all do,” Ryan goads. “We’ve been meaning to talk to you about taking more baths.”

The younger Munson boy glowers at his brother and stomps past him into the living room.

“Um, does she smell?” Luke asks as he approaches the couch.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, looking up at his son with a grin. “She’s got that new baby smell. C’mere.”

He gestures for Luke to lean in and smell the top of Eliza’s head. The boy does and when he pulls back, he’s smiling.

“She kind of smells like cheese.”

The words make you giggle, and you lay your head on your husband’s shoulder as Eddie cradles Eliza against his chest.

“Ryan! She smells like cheese!”

“What?” Ryan asks as he walks over.

“Yeah, but like actual cheese. Not a Cheeto or the stuff in a can.”

Ryan frowns. “Didn’t you just eat a whole bottle of Cheez Wiz yesterday?”

“You did what?” Eddie asks, raising an eyebrow at his youngest son.

“I said it wasn’t real cheese,” Luke says to Ryan, ignoring his father completely. “Not that it wasn’t delicious. Now smell,” Luke urges him.

Ryan gives his little brother a skeptical look, but when you give him a reassuring nod, he leans in and sniffs her hair.

“It’s like…baby powder. But…I don’t know, fresher?” Ryan isn’t sure how to describe it, but he certainly doesn’t think cheese is the word he’d use.

“Do all babies have it?” Luke asks as he takes a seat next to you.

“Most do,” Eddie tells him. “You both did.”

“When did I lose it? Or do I still have it?” Luke tries to yank one of his curls straight so he can get a good whiff of it, but to no avail.

“It goes away after a few weeks or months,” Eddie says.

“What causes it?” Ryan asks.

Your husband smiles and you can tell he loves the boys asking him these questions. He’d sit here and talk to them about Eliza—or anything, really—all day.

“I don’t know, pal,” Eddie says.

“It’s like new car smell!” Luke adds.

“But better,” you say, poking his tummy in his most ticklish spot. He giggles and squirms around at your side. Once he’s calmed, Luke slumps against your arm and watches Eliza fuss a little in Eddie’s arms.

“Even when she loses that baby smell,” Luke says, poking you in the thigh with a small bony forefinger, “I hope she grows up to smell like you and not Daddy.”

Eddie’s jaw drops open as he turns his head towards Luke. You want to make some sort of witty remark, but you can’t think of any. Plus, you’re laughing way too hard to speak.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #older!eddie #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #dad!eddie #AYW #AYWS #request

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jobean12-blog · 4 months

Text

A Place Made for Love

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader (No-outbreak Joel)

Word Count: 5,081

Summary: You're new to the small town Joel's lived in all his life and just the sight of you has him feeling a certain way so when he learns that you've bought the old bookshop and you're moving into the apartment above, it turns his familiar world upside down.

Author's Note: This one got away from me. I love the idea of Joel just living his life and doing construction and being grumpy and then reader comes along and really gives him a run for his money. Had to include a bookshop for this because along with Joel, it's one of my favorite things. Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always!❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics Thank you Daisy! 🥰

PS Bold font means texts and anything italics is like an inner thought lol

Warnings: grumpy Joel, sassy reader, tension, flirting, softness and smiles, fluff and sweetness

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

You trudge down the canned food aisle feeling completely indecisive but hungry and growing more aggravated by the second.

As you round the next corner you’re sifting through the contents of your basket when you walk headfirst into what feels like the wall.

“Ow!” you yelp as you stumble back.

A strong arm wraps around your waist to steady you and you look up, blinking.

“Better watch where you’re goin’ there darlin’.”

Your body tenses at the feel of him pressed against you and you mutter something inaudible under your breath before slipping from his grasp.

“Not even a thank you,” he muses as he turns to follow you.

“Weren’t you going the other way?” you shoot back.

“Just realized I forgot the pasta,” he says, leaning over your shoulder to whisper the words close to your ear.

You force your betraying body to remain calm at his proximity and then ignore the comment.

“What the hell are you gonna make with that mish mosh?” he asks as he peeks into your basket.

“Why do you care?” you counter with a brittle smirk.

He shrugs as the corners of his mouth turn up into a grin.

“Maybe something to poison you with…that would be nice.”

Your sassy remark makes his whole face light up with a smile and it momentarily roots you to the spot.

With one last disgruntled glance you stomp off in the other direction. “Since I’m new here you’d think you’d be a little more neighborly!”

“Fuck,” Joel mutters as he follows you.

“Ok darlin’.”

“Ok what?” you ask as you turn to face him.

“Maybe…” and he paused, studying you. “I could be a bit more friendly.”

He looks back down at your basket.

“You know if you grab some beans and a pepper you’ll be well on your way to making a great chili.”

“Chili,” you repeat.

You look between him and the basket. “That works. Although…”

“You’ve never made it before?”

At his question you fight back a sigh.

“No. I haven’t. But I’m capable of looking up a recipe.”

“Or I could just tell you about some good take-out places.”

You roll your eyes.

“I can manage to cook my own dinner, thanks!”

At the sarcasm in your tone his grin widens before he starts to step around you, his arm brushing yours with the motion.

“Great darlin.’ Just don’t burn the place down or anything. It’s the only bookshop in the neighborhood and we all love it.”

He winks and saunters off.

The urge to turn around and watch him is almost overwhelming but you square your shoulder and keep your chin up. “I can make chili,” you assure yourself.

Joel sits across from Tommy and sips his beer, waiting for his brother to make a dinner choice.

If Tommy notices Joel glancing too many times at the small bookshop across the street, he doesn’t mention it.

“You’re quieter than usual,” Tommy remarks as he drops the menu and leans back. “What’s on your mind?”

Joel grunts before looking across the street again. “Work.”

“This new job we have is a big one. I want it to go perfectly so they hire us for the rest of it.” Joel continues.

Tommy nods in agreement but he’s battling a smile.

“Somethin’ you wanna say brother?” Joel asks.

Tommy grins. “I might have somethin’ to say.”

Joel grinds his teeth and tightens his grip on the beer bottle.

“Heard you had a little exchange with our new bookshop owner at the grocery store this mornin’.”

“Who said?” Joel asks, pinning Tommy with dark eyes.

“No one of importance,” Tommy shrugs. “You’re starin’ a hole through the window.”

Tommy’s eyes glitter. He’s clearly enjoying himself. “Heard she didn’t back down and run off over your…charm.”

“You’re worse than a school girl. Spreadin’ gossip around.”

That makes Tommy laugh and he takes a swig of his drink.

“Still,” Tommy says. “I can’t blame you…she’s real nice to look at and probably a lot of fun when you get her goin’…which you seem to enjoy doin’.”

“Tommy,” Joel warns as his jaw tightens. “Don’t go sniffin’ around any of that and don’t ask me to explain why.”

Tommy dips his head in understanding, his mouth tight in a straight line but his eyes bright with amusement.

“Not a single sniff. You’ve got my word brother…”

Tommy’s head swings around and his attention settles on something happening in the street. “What the hell…?”

Joel jerks his head in the same direction and in matter of seconds he’s out of his chair and charging through the door.

Without thinking he runs toward you and let’s out a breath when he looks you over, the large pot between your fingers and a garbage bag over your shoulder.

“Are you hurt?”

“No,” you breathe, staring at him. “Where the hell did you come from?”

His relief at the fact that you’re unharmed is obvious even as he takes the pot from you and grabs your wrists, turning your hands over to check.

His skin is warm and his fingers are calloused. The sensations cause your mind to go blank and you stand there motionless.

Once he’s satisfied he looks down at the pot and the black contents inside. He’s still holding your wrists.

“I burnt it,” you say quietly. “The whole upstairs apartment smells awful so I thought I’d better get rid of it quick before the shop started to stink.”

“I can take care…” Tommy begins to speak and Joel whips his head around just now realizing he was even standing there and glares so Tommy snaps his mouth shut.

Joel looks back at you and slowly releases you, the loss of his touch something you instantly feel.

Tommy covers a cough and you drag your eyes away from Joel to glance at his younger brother.

“Hey,” Tommy says and extends his hand.

You reach out and shake it to introduce yourself.

“I was saying I could help you out with that but I think my brother here has it under control,” Tommy quips.

“Damn right I do,” Joel says, hands on his hips.

“Thanks Tommy, I appreciate the offer,” you smile.

Tommy tips his head and walks back across the street to the bar.

Joel’s hard eyes turn to you in an assessing way but he remains silent.

“Aren’t you going to make some shitty remark about my cooking skills,” you snip.

His broad shoulders slump and he holds out his hand.

“Here, give me the bag.”

You hand the bag over and watch as he empties what he can of the contents and then stares down at it with pursed lips.

“Might have to…” he starts.

“You can just get rid…” you say at the same time.

He drops the pot into the bag with a laugh.

It catches you off guard and when he meets your eyes again the surprise is evident in your wide-eyed expression.

“No shitty remarks darlin.’ Just glad you’re ok…and you didn’t burn the place down.”

The last part of his comment trails off into quiet mumblings but you still catch it.

“Couldn’t help yourself huh?” you say but you’re fighting back a small smile.

The two of you stand there on the sidewalk for what feels like forever until Joel clears his throat and you look up at him through your lashes.

“Guess your dinner’s ruined,” he states.

“You could say that. I’ll have to go aimlessly walk around the grocery store some more in the hopes of finding food.”

His large hand runs through his already mussed hair before it settles on the back of his head and he shoves his free hand into his jeans pocket.

“Hey uh, listen darlin’…I’m sorry if I was rude earlier…at the store…and the other times before that. It was wrong of me.”

Your expression softens.

“Thank you, I accept.”

Joel hums and flicks his head toward the bar. “I had just ordered dinner before you came running out. Go in and eat it.”

When you stare at him he plays back his words and realizes they came out as a demand.

“If you want to,” he adds. “Join me. For food.”

You smile and slide past him. Your distinct and soft scent wafts up to his nose and he instinctively inhales, his eyes closing briefly before he starts to move to follow you.

He motions to the small table and pulls out your chair, waiting for you to sit before he does the same. His thick fingers wrap around the fork, making it look comically small, before he hands it to you and pushes the plate closer.

You stab a French fry and pop it in your mouth.

“So Tommy…you guys work together?”

“Yeah. Construction. We actually have a big project coming up in the city. Working on one of the new fancy hotel buildings.

“That sounds exciting. I guess it’s not really a 9-5 job then?”

“Nah, not really. Some days we spend doing small, odd jobs around the neighborhood and other times we’ll be on one job for weeks or months.”

You nod. “What do you do in your spare time? Besides follow women around the grocery store and make snarky comment on their food choices.”

“Gonna hold that over my head for long?” he asks.

You look him over and pretend to think about it. “Not sure yet.”

“Fair enough,” he sighs, noticing you stopped eating and nudging your arm with his elbow. “Eat.”

“Are you always this bossy?” you ask as you chew.

His eyes drop to your mouth and the way you lick the salt from your lips.

“Maybe,” he replies, the sides of his mouth twitching with a smile.

“Fair enough,” you tell him, mirroring his earlier words.

The whites of his teeth appear with his lopsided smile

“You plannin’ on trying to cook chili again?”

“Maybe,” you answer, loving the way his eyes crinkle at your repeated and mocking words.

“So now that you know a little more about me why not tell me why you’re here in our little town?”

He settles his forearms on the table and leans in, watching you with intense eyes.

“Well,” you start with a sigh. “I’ve always wanted to run or own a bookshop but my job in the city was keeping me so busy I barely had time to read and of course it’s easier said than done. For a while I didn’t mind…the work that is. Sure I was busy but I figured my life was just what it was supposed to be. Had a nice apartment, steady job, steady boyfriend…until I didn’t. He broke up with me over a text and then refused to answer my calls and explain why. After that, my job became less and less appealing as did living in the city so when his opportunity came up I had to jump on it as scary as all the change is.”

You wait and hold his gaze. “What are you thinking?” you ask.

“I’m thinking a lot of things,” he says quietly before stealing a fry off the plate.

“Like?” you ask.

Like where I can find your ex-boyfriend so I can give him a proper beating.

When he still doesn’t speak you continue talking. “I’m thinking about the renovations I want to make to the bookshop. It’s nothing crazy. Just some minor changes to make it more of a cozy space.”

“That sounds nice,” he answers. “It could use some upgrades.”

“Definitely. And the door to my apartment upstairs doesn’t even lock! I need to get that fixed first.”

Joel’s eyes narrow at your statement. “That’s not safe.”

You smirk and steal the next fry that’s dangling between his fingers as they hover over the plate.

“Maybe I’ll look up some cute contractors online to come help me.”

He sits back, crossing his arms over his chest and spreading his legs wider under the table. Your gaze moves to the way his biceps pop under the tight fabric of his shirt.

“You could. If you wanted the job done poorly.”

“Are you saying you’d be able to do a better job?”

“Damn right darlin.”

Was this still about renovations to the shop?

With that thought still floating around in his brain he watches you stand and pop one last fry into your mouth.

“Thank you for sharing your dinner with me,” you say before rounding the table. “I like it when you’re nice.”

And I even like it when you’re bossy. Maybe too much.

You kept that last thought tucked away and lean down to kiss him on the cheek before lightly brushing your hand over his shoulder and walking out the door.

Tommy drops into the now empty seat, grinning ear to ear.

“How’d that go boss?” he asks.

“Shut it,” Joel growls.

Later that week with the sun just peeking above the horizon you hear a knock at your door. It startles you into alertness and you sit up with a gasp, dropping your book to the bed.

Your feet hit the cool floor and you ask, “who’s there?,” hoping to keep the shakiness from your voice.

“It’s Joel.”

“Oh,” you whisper, now suddenly even more alert but much less jumpy.

Before you open the door you quickly run a hand over your face and scrub away the sleepiness. You turn the knob and have it halfway open before you realize you’re barely dressed, the only thing covering your body is the old tee shirt that hits way above your knees.

You stop and peek through.

“I’m um…I’m not really dressed. I was in bed reading.”

“Shit,” Joel mutters. “Sorry darlin.’ I didn’t even realize the time. I can wait till you’ve put somethin’ on.”

He doesn’t move away from the door and you open it a little wider before slipping away to grab shorts.

“Fuck,” he mutters quietly but not quietly enough and your lips turn up into a triumphant smile.

When you return you open the door invitingly and then notice the toolbox at his feet and meet his eyes.

His cheeks are dusted with pink and not even the scruff lining them can cover it. It’s hard to hide your smug satisfaction but you do your best.

“What’s that for?” you ask.

“I came to change the lock for you,” he explains hoarsely.

“Oh,” you answer, feeling your stomach erupt with nervous energy. “Why?”

“I’m leaving this morning. To go to the city and start on that hotel job. Won’t be back for a few days. I just…”

He kneels down and starts rummaging through the tool box, metal clanging against metal so you can barely hear him when he adds, “wanted to make sure this place was safe and secure.”

Your fingers fiddle with the hem of your old shirt.

“That’s really nice of you.”

“Well.” He stands and starts working on the door. “I saw you hadn’t done it yet and I didn’t want you calling any random guys.”

“Because you can do it better. Right?”

He doesn’t look up from his work and just grunts his acknowledgement.

You take the opportunity to move toward the small kitchen area and start making some coffee.

“Coffee?” you offer.

He looks up at you as you lean against the counter with your bare legs on display. His eyes drag down the length of them before he shakes his head no.

“Already had a cup thanks.”

He finishes the lock and puts his tools away before approaching. His hand moves to his back pocket and he pulls out some folded papers, setting them on the counter.

“I brought some take out menus.”

“It’s probably too early to be insulted.”

“This isn’t me telling you not to cook. These are just in case you don’t want to cook.”

“Ah,” you answer. “I could have just looked this up online.”

“Yeah well I don’t have your number so how would you know the best places to get take out.”

You stare at him from over the rim of your steaming mug.

“Maybe you should take it,” he says abruptly. “My number…in case…”

“I need cooking advice again?”

He makes an affirmative nod and smiles.

“Ok, what’s your number?” you ask as you reach for your phone.

The relief on his face doesn’t go unnoticed by you and he recites the digits as you punch them in.

When you hit dial on his contact his eyebrows draw together as if he’s trying to figure out where the sound is coming from.

“That’s you. Now you’ll have my number too.”

You giggle and the corner of his mouth lifts a little. “Right.”

You set your coffee down and push yourself up onto the countertop.

With one more almost imperceptible sweep of your legs he coughs into his fist and turns toward the door.

“Thanks Joel!” you call after him.

He waves with barely a turn and flies down the steps.

The rest of your day is spent figuring out the renovations for the bookshop space downstairs. You clean, declutter, and really start to map things out in your head. By the time the late afternoon sun is setting you realize you’ve missed lunch and you’re starving.

“I should try chili again,” you say to yourself.

After a quick and much less exciting visit to the grocery store you head back with a bag full of Joel’s recommended ingredients and get to work.

Two hours later you have a large pot of bubbling and unburnt chili on the stove.

Without thinking too much into it you snap a picture of the food and send it to Joel with the caption, “I did it! And it smells amazing!”

Before you even put your phone down his response dings in.

“Wow darlin.’ Looks amazing. Save me some.”

You’re about to reply that you definitely will when another text comes through.

“And I’m hoping you didn’t burn anything down?”

He follows it with a silly smiling emoji and you answer with, “nope! Everything and everyone is intact,” including your own smiley face emoji.

“Perfect. And I meant it. Save me some.”

“Please…” you type and then send another message saying, “so bossy!”

He responds quickly. “Save me some. Please.”

He adds a kissy smiley face and you giggle before sending one back with a thumbs up.

It’s easy to flirt over text. You aren’t overwhelmed by his masculine and sexy presence. By the smell of him. Woodsy and spicy. And his hands aren’t there teasing to touch you.

All you can think of while you enjoy your bowl of chili is how you can’t wait for him to come back this weekend.

When Joel returns from his trip he rushes home to shower and change. It’s already late but he needs to see you and you should have a bowl of chili waiting for him.

When he pulls up to the bookshop and parks his pickup he frowns at the darkened space.

Maybe you’re out? With someone…

Pushing the invasive thoughts aside he gets out and walks to the large windows, peering inside.

Nothing.

The scuffle of feet pulls his attention away and he catches sight of you sitting across the street by the park, your feet dangling along the pavement.

He approaches slowly, making noise so you don’t get scared. You look up and tense but instantly relax at the sight of him.

“Was wonderin’ where you were,” he murmurs.

“You’re back,” you say. “I have chili for you.”

You half smile but your eyes fall.

His chest tightens.

“Darlin’?” he asks before sitting down next to you.

His thigh brushes yours and his arm is close enough that you feel his warmth.

Your sniffle and hug your arms around your body.

Hesitantly he lifts his arm and rests it lightly across your shoulders.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

When you don’t pull away and instead lean into his strength he tugs you closer.

“I tried to start doing some work on the bookshop. I just wanted to take off the old and peeling wall paper but I think I fucked things up. I’m not sure how to fix it and really I have no idea what I’m doing. It’s a mess.”

Your confession softens him and he runs his calloused fingertips along your smooth skin, sneaking them under the sleeve of your shirt.

“I’ll take a look at it. I’m sure we can fix it.”

You were so soft. It took everything in him not to pull you even closer and wrap you in his arms.

“It’s a mess. I’m a mess. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing!”

“Don’t do that,” he says. “Don’t put yourself down. It pisses me off.”

You look up at him and gasp. “You? Pissed off? That’s new.”

The corner of his lips lift and his eyes sparkle. “I deserve that.”

You wipe your nose and give him a smile.

“Maybe. But only a little.”

You lean your head on his shoulder and sigh.

“We’ll sort it out,” he assures you.

You look at him with soft eyes full of gratefulness. His gaze moves lower…to your mouth and his lips part as if to speak but the sound of a loud car horn makes you jump apart.

“How about that chili?” you ask as you start to stand.

“Sounds great darlin’.”

You walk toward the building, tensing at his side the closer you get, knowing he’s going to see the disaster you’ve made.

He stops you with a hand over yours.

“For what it’s worth,” he whispers. “I think you’re really brave for comin’ here to start over.”

The tension slips from your shoulders and you take his hand, giving it a squeeze.

“You did it,” you murmur. “I’m still upset but…I feel better. More hopeful.”

He smiles before you turn to unlock the door and your hyperaware of the feel of his hard body behind you. It takes everything in you not to turn around and throw yourself at him but you manage to get the door open and offer him some chili.

The next day, being Sunday, should be a day of rest but your new-found determination has you up and out of bed bright and early, ready to conquer the wallpaper debacle and then some.

You’re saved from wondering where to start when the front door of the shop opens and in walks Joel with a tray of coffee and a bakery bag.

“Hey there darlin’,” he says. “Thought you’d be up and ready to work.”

“Hey back,” you wave.

He fills the doorway with his body and you try to focus on the smell of fresh coffee and sugar.

“That for me?” you ask and point to the tray in his hand.

“Yeah.”

He crosses the small distance and places the tray down on one of the old tables. You reach for the coffee and open the top, inspecting the contents of the cup.

“You know how I take my coffee?” you ask, raising a brow.

“I pay attention,” is all the answer you get.

You stood dumbfounded for a moment until you remembered that you had made coffee the other morning when he fixed the lock on the door upstairs.

“Thank you.”

Your gaze travels to his and there is some kind of silent communication between you. You can’t believe how much he can convey without actually speaking. Your breathing becomes shallower as he continues to look at you and you know, by the determined set of his jaw and confidence simmering in his gaze that things have really shifted.

When he finally pulls his eyes away you let out an audible breath and take a sip of your coffee.

“What’s happening here?” he asks as he looks over the mess of a wall. “You want to get rid of this?”

He moves closer and toys with the wallpaper.

“Yes and then I want to…”

You start rattling off your ideas in a long run-on rambling sentence without taking a break and when you’re finally done you find him eyeing you with both an amused and thoughtful expression.

“Right,” he said. “Well I know a good place to get lumber and all that so we can shop later but for now let’s get this cleaned up.”

He turns and strides for the exit, passing your trash bag from yesterday that was too heavy for you to lift.

“You want this out for pick up?” he asks.

“Yes, please,” you respond.

With zero effort, he tosses the bag over his shoulder and walks out. When he returns he’s carrying his toolbox.

You peer through the window and see his pickup truck and one trip at a time, he brings more supplies and tools.

Grabbing the back of his sweatshirt he drags it up and off, bringing his tee shirt underneath along with it, and you catch a glimpse of what’s beneath.

“Shit,” you mutter.

Now that he’s only in a tee shirt you can see the deep cut of his triceps and forearm muscles every time he lifts or handles something.

“Shit, shit, shit.”

“You alright there darlin’?” he asks when he hears your quiet reflections.

“Huh? Me? Oh yeah, just fine thanks. Um…I want to help so just tell me what to do…you know be bossy. You’re good at that.”

He steps closer with a sideways smirk, his warmth coasting over you, and his gaze falls to your mouth, taking it’s time before finding your eyes again.

“Keep ripping that wallpaper down. I know it looks a mess but you’re doing it right.”

The words themselves hold no sensuality at all but the way he says them, the way he leans in close and whispers them along your ear…it sends a shiver right down your spine.

As the days pass you continue to work and make progress on the shop. Some days it’s just you and Joel and other days Tommy joins you both to help. On the days when Joel has to work he gives you detailed instructions on what to do and how to do it. You’re proud of how much you’ve accomplished together but also on your own.

At the end of the week, with the late afternoon sun already making it’s way toward the horizon, you notice the shop is oddly quiet. No sound of the saw or hammer.

“I have something to show you.”

His low and gravelly voice pulls you from your current task of polishing the small table tops and your nerves fire up.

When you stand and walk closer he looks you over from head to toe. You’re covered in dust and your skin is glowing with a light sheen of sweat.

You look down at yourself then back up at him.

“Is it that bad?” you ask with a halfhearted smile.

“You look beautiful.”

He holds his hand out and you take it, letting him pull you toward the back of the shop.

You step behind the last row of bookshelves and stop short.

“Joel…”

The large bay window is now framed by two brand new floor to ceiling dark shelves. The polished wood gleams in the setting sun and every beautiful accent swirl and grain is highlighted.

“It’s amazing! I just…I love it. Thank you!”

He takes the rag from his back pocket and cleans his hands while he watches you from under the dark strands of hair that have fallen over his forehead.

“Glad you like it darlin’.”

“No. I love it Joel. How can I ever thank you.”

“Have dinner with me…and not here…on the floor of the shop like we do some days. A real date.”

You suck in a small breath and curl your fingers together. “Did you think you needed to build me this to convince me to go on a date with you?”

“No,” he says as he shoves his hands into his pockets. “I was workin’ up the nerve to ask you and this was a good distraction.”

“Oh…” You say the words and your mouth forms a little ‘o’ shape. “I…I mean…of course. I’d love to have dinner with you.”

He looks down at his feet and nods firmly, a smile playing on his lips. “Alright then.”

He starts to gather and pack up his tools. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at six.”

You shake your head yes and realize you’re not speaking and as he turns to walk away you move forward while calling his name.

One second he’s holding the tool box and the next it’s on the ground next to him and he’s turning toward you. Your momentum brings you right into his chest and his arm wraps around your lower back.

He waits for you to speak, his eyes wandering over the features of your face before focusing in on your parted lips. His fingers splayed along your lower back dig into your skin and he tugs you closer as he dips his head.

Your palms land flat on his hard chest and slowly dance upward along his broad shoulders.

“Thank you.”

The words are just a whisper but you manage to get them passed your lips and he looks like he’s about to speak but instead covers your mouth with his.

The kiss is worshipful but you can feel his restraint in the tense and flexing muscles of his body and your fingers find purchase at the back of his neck and comb through his hair.

His hand slides up your back and he presses you closer as he lifts the other to cup your jaw. The callouses on the pad of his thumb scrape deliciously across your soft skin and he moans like you’re the best thing he’s ever tasted.

When the need for air finally takes over he releases your mouth just long enough to look into your eyes before he dives back in, stealing your breath all over again.

The door to the shop opens, the newly installed bell atop it ringing loud and clear through your kiss filled haze.

“Oh shit, sorry,” Tommy says sheepishly when he appears by the window.

Joel breaks the kiss, his chest heaving with harsh breaths and he stares at your mouth for a few long moments while you cling to him. His hand eventually drops away from your back and his fingers trace along your jaw and then down your neck to pull your ear to his lips.

“Tomorrow night,” he murmurs. “Six.”

@hiddles-rose @lorilane33 @lizette50 @littleseasiren @blackwidownat2814 @kmc1989

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine #pedro pascal x reader #bookshop

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bitdemonic · 1 year

Text

date. april 8th, 2023

time. 8:59pm

—❝𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐃.❞

𝐬𝐲𝐩𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬. FUTURESPOUSEPAC . . . a message from them.

𝐚𝐢𝐝. if the images above are too hard to differentiate between your intuition, use ‘pile 1, 2, 3, or 4’ for the choice selection instead. this reading has four piles. pic not included.

𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫. 18+ content—no minors. please remember, this post is just for shits and giggles. use the best of your discernment, pinch that grain of salt. and although i write under the impression that majority of this content’s viewers are women, i do read for feminine and masculine energies. if needed to, please flip the roles as reversed for an accurate message. hope this reading is useful, but not for plagiarism bitch. enjoy.❦

𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞

🃏 movement retrograde. sweetness retrograde. faith. rest.

𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞

✞—. “i want it whenever i can get it. idc who’s around, i don’t give two shits about who’s looking. you’re the only person i ever want to have and knowing that i can have it? whenever we want? broad day, pitch black at night, at a park, at a concert, in the car it doesn’t matter and it never will. im going to shove my dick so far into you it’s going to come out of your mouth, that’s how carnal i am for you. my soul burns for you, im running off of petroleum gas at this very moment. you’re a diamond in the fucking rough. i mean, the faces you make when you cum are just . . . im so pleased, so blessed to have you as mine. to call you my lover, my one and only—not many have the pleasure of doing so, but i do.”

✞—. “i’d run ass naked up and down the street just to proclaim my feelings for you. you’re divine, you’re special, you make my crotch tight and my cheeks warm. i’d fuck you for hours upon hours, just to hear your moans. the same moans that remind me of the melody to a favorite song, the one i’ll keep on repeat because i never want them to end. keep your eyes open during sex, i want you to watch me have my way with you. to see the things i do to your body, the same things that make your insides twitch. moving back and forth, up and down, all around and through nirvana just to end it all in rehab. you’ll never want me to go, and i never will. i’ll even stay inside for a few minutes after, because i don’t want to leave us either.”

✞—. “i love you, but above that i lust eternally for you. love is nothing for us, but only because it was always a given—i’ll never stop loving you. it’s just during sex, the way i want to give all of my strength and trust into it, that’s something vulnerable for me. something different and new. but i’m willing to share that, without complaint too, because you’re mine. one person made special just for me, it’s natural that i show my appreciation. i want you to feel the way i feel for you, but through my actions more than my words. understand our connection with each act of pleasure i bring upon you, so on and so forth.”

✞—. “i’m always available to make love, to fuck—to tangle the sheets and wring out the perspiration from our bodies. making you cum constantly—endlessly, without losing stamina and without the thought of it having to end. scream for me, cry for me, moan for me—most of all, cum for me. do all those things and more doll, and promise to never stop.”

end.❤️‍🔥

previous reading

𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐨

🃏 passion retrograde. creativity. abundance. confidence.

𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞

✞—. “give me that pussy. that sweet, tight, warm cunt. i want it all over me—my face, my thigh, hell even my stomach, i don’t mind my love. i’ll be gentle, whether that’s taking it nice and slow or hard and fast—whatever pace you need. don’t ever be afraid to tell me what you desire, or better yet, take control of me because it’s yours. my cock has your name printed on it in red ink, signed by yours truly.”

✞—. “the sight when you’re naked, the swell of your breasts down to the curve of your thighs, it makes my heart clench. even the tips of your feet get me going. never stop riding me, lock your legs around my waist and bounce on me all damn day. cum in my mouth, cum on my clothes, cum on my fucking face—i’ll eat it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. you’re gorgeous, but even more so outside of the sex. i don’t care what people say, i don’t give a damn about what they think either. it’s you that i want and i want you right here, right fucking now.”

✞—. “strip for me, baby. pull off your shirt as i watch with my thick cock in hand. unclasp your bra, slide the straps from your shoulders, let it tumble to the floor. i’ll gasp at the gentle bounce of your breast, in awe at their beauty, before attacking them with my mouth. you’re my inspiration, the blueprint of the world’s desires. made for us—we all want a part of your essence to bring home for bragging rights. want to see your body shine under the spotlight, showcasing as aphrodite’s favorite, nothing but glitter and gold. on display as heaven’s angel. stand just like that so you’ll never fall.”

✞—. “show the others what they’ll never touch, the parts of you that they’ll only be able to dream of. the same parts that i’ve been trusted enough to feel, to love and appreciate. yes . . . like that baby, don’t stop. show me how much of a blessing it is to have the emulation of a goddess at arms length. how much of an honor it is, keeping the place that’d be gone and up for grabs if you decided to cut me loose. i won’t fuck this up, at least not again. i know what i have, and i’ll always need it in order to survive. you.”

end.❤️‍🔥

previous reading

𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

🃏 happiness. intuition. magic retrograde. illumination retrograde.

[tw — somnophilia] this is a channeled scenario from your person but if this theme isn’t comfortable for reading i suggest choosing another pile!

𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞

✞—. “i watch you sleep, you know. it’s hard not to, hearing the soft breaths escape your lips as the shadow of peace drapes upon your face. bathed in the comfort of being home, you’re content at last. sleeping, embracing the idea that nothing could interrupt the state of winding down. nothing at all—except me. fingers tracing along the hem of your underwear, dancing across the design pattern, before pulling the band of them and letting it pop against your skin. it’s kinda funny—more adorable if anything, the flutter of your lashes at the slight sting below your abdomen.”

✞—. “i do this all the time, or at least when it’s essential. when we’re both aware of how much you need it, i’ll tease away the sleepiness until it’s desolate and gone. you’d never guess it was real, the heat from an open mouth as it warms the center of your panties. that same mouth, dampening the fabric before placing sloppy kisses along the seams. you’ll whimper, tossing and rubbing as you’re mindlessly wondering what the hell kind of dream is this? why does it feel extra real, and why are your hands thrashing to grip at the pillows?”

✞—. “mmm, mmhm,” will fall from the lush of your lips, disrupting the quiet of the night with natural reaction. you’re spurring me on, you little minx. encouraging me to keep going, urging me to fuck with your innocence some more. to turn vulnerability into utter rapture. and i will baby, of course i will. you’ll be conscious at this point, blinking more than twice for obvious reasons, seconds before your face turns into disbelief and tempted half lids. feels good, doesn’t it? i know it does, you don’t even need to utter a word—that moan’ll suffice.”

✞—. “teasing becomes eating, eating until we’re impatient for the rest, until you’re frustrated from not being stuffed full with the other parts. oh yeah, baby—you’re definitely awake now. up and at ‘em, waiting for me to finish what’s began, waiting for me to send your precious body to sleep once more.”

end.❤️‍🔥

previous reading

𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫

🃏 caution retrograde. trust. isolation retrograde. mystery.

𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞

✞—. “our kisses, the taste itself, intoxicate the sobriety of my mind. your mouth, placing the sweetest of sins against mine. i’m left to fend for myself, to stand on trembling legs, stumbling around the reality that is us—proceeding with caution. those lips, diluted in gloss or whatever else that has them shining brighter than a star. drenched in angel dust, sprinkled from the fingers of God himself, urging me to come and get blessed. and blessed i be, for i never want these moments to end.”

✞—. “i can’t stop thinking about those sounds, those kitten mewls that send my brain cells into overdrive. can’t forget the trail of poised hands rubbing and wrapping around my neck to pull me closer. you’re incredible. the sweetest thing since candied apples, just as you’re hell on earth. damn you, damn this feeling. damn the air thickening around us, damn the temperature rising in time with our heartbeats. i feel my chest concave when you go, the same way i feel it inflate when you walk into the room. engulf me with your presence, take me and never let me go—don’t let the others take me from you.”

✞—. “i want to be attached to your hips just as my hands are, how they know where home is when they grab at your waist and pull you in. pushing you against my abdomen to give your own hands some room, to let them run over the hem of my zipper before pulling away. i’d offer to finish the job for you, to fling my shirt and pants to the floor, but that’d ruin the fun wouldn’t it? the fun behind the tease, the persona of being daddy’s girl—spoiled and bratty, naughty not nice.”

✞—. “hard as hell to tame, but that’s the excitement itself. eyes going slender and sultry, bottom lip being bitten, hair tossed to glance over one shoulder—i feel ill, hot flashes and stomach turns, because you’re my kryptonite. tbh, you take all my breath away and funnily enough, i don’t want it back. it’s an eye for an eye, swapping out my oxygen for your full devotion. as long as i’m with you, i’ll never need to breathe again. to have and to hold forever.”

end.❤️‍🔥

previous reading

#bitdemonic #future spouse #future spouse pac #future spouse reading #pick a card #pick a pile #pick a deck #channeled message #channeled songs #channeled reading #tarotblr

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abibliophobiaa · 2 months

Text

the boy is mine (luna’s edition)

i was tagged in @carolmunson’s blurb challenge, and here’s my fluffy little submission. i encourage everyone to join in, and you can find the guidelines here.

summary: an evening in at the trailer park with your boyfriend eddie munson. established relationship, eddie munson x f!reader. little suggestive, but no smut. just fluffy sweetness (1k words)

——

It’s your favorite time of the day. When the sun starts to set across the sky. Pinks, purples, oranges and reds casting light against the new trailer you and Eddie purchased, spilling in through the billowing curtains in the living room. Eddie’s there on the couch, with a cozy cream knitted blanket over his thighs, one of his crew sock covered feet you bought him just last week poking out at the end.

He’s perfectly sun-kissed after a day spent walking in the park together after running errands, your hand in his, both of you simply basking in the springy Saturday sun. Dark hair spills out of a messy ponytail, curly strands tickling his shoulders and cheeks, though it seems he’s too invested in whatever he’s scribbling in his small notebook to care.

Its contents? You’re uncertain, but he’s been working for the past hour as you finished cleaning up an early dinner. Take out pizza, since neither of you were keen on cooking tonight, instead wanting to curl up together with a movie on the couch for a loved up night in. Said movie is calling your name as you drape your dish towel around the refrigerator handle, making sure to pluck two bottles of beer from within.

“Popcorn?” You call out, smiling to yourself when Eddie jumps a little on the couch, head lifting as those umber eyes meet yours.

“Sure, babe,” he says, smiling softly, “I’m almost done.”

“No rush,” you tell him, moving over to a cabinet to pull out a bowl, and a bag of M&Ms. “Candy?”

“Does a bear shit in the woods?”

A laugh bubbles up from your lips as you shake your head, opening the microwave to grab the popped treat. “Today was perfect, huh?”

You smile to yourself as he hums in agreement, pouring the popcorn into the plastic bowl. Both are placed down onto your coffee table as you slip into the living area, your knee taking up residence to the left of one of Eddie’s hips, before the other joins on the other side, straddling the man.

“Whatcha writing?” you ask, trying to peer down at the notebook, just as he slams it shut.

Eddie tosses it behind him on the windowsill, head shaking, eyes a little wide and a little breathless at the suddenness of your arrival on his lap. “That’s private.”

You pout. “Private? From the woman you live with? Love with all your heart, soul, and might?”

“Hey,” he chuckles, thumb pressing beneath your bottom lip, wiggling it playfully, “none of that. You know I love you, but some things are personal.”

“Is that what you called shitting while I was in the shower the other da —”

“That was an emergency,” he clarifies, and you snort. Sobering, he adds, “It’s just — not ready yet.”

Fingers thumb at your thighs, shifting upward the sundress draped over his thighs now. Those dark eyes linger on your face, his free hand coming up to brush along your cheek, dragging your face down to meet his, your foreheads brushing. Every breath from his lungs puffs against your bottom lip, that tantalizing feeling of need you don’t think you’ll ever get used to with him making your insides liquify. Then again, it’s always been this way with him. A sense of peace and quiet in your soul. Of home, with his arms as your walls and his heart as a safe place to land.

“It’s a song…if you must know,” he says slowly against your lips, a dimple popping in his cheek, “about a major pain in my ass.”

“You should get that checked out,” you muse, heart pitter-pattering away at the notion he’s written a song about you, “might be serious.”

“It’s a permanent condition,” he sighs dramatically, though it’s tinged with a joyous laugh, “the only cure is constant exposure.”

“Your doctor needs to get their license revoked,” you tease, breaking off with a sigh in the back of your throat as he leans forward and kisses you deeply. Grapples at your hips and rolls you over him, swallowing the moan that bubbles in your throat at the feeling of him already hardening beneath you. “If you don’t stop, we’re going to have a problem.”

He grins up at you, finger pushing at the strap of your dress until it falls down one shoulder. Eddie leans in, pressing a lingering kiss to the bare skin there.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing. Distracting me!” You shove at him playfully, wiggling on his lap as deft fingers tickle at your sides, drawing you closer to his frame. A contented exhale spills from you, body leaning into his chest, letting his arms fold you in against a broad chest.

“You really wanna hear it?” he asks at the crown of your head, fingers tangling with yours in your lap.

“Please?”

“It’s rough,” he warns, reaching behind him to grasp the small notebook. “It’s also…not our normal style, so you better not tell the guys.”

You gasp, clapping a hand over your mouth. “Did Eddie Munson write me a love song?”

“Quit it or I won’t play it for you,” he snarks, but there’s no bite there, only love. Always love. So much so, you’re always overflowing with it. “Sit over there — yeah — okay.”

You drop down against the pillows piled high in the corner of your couch, the knitted blanket drawn up and over your thighs. And as the sun continues to set over Hawkins, you watch as the man who holds your heart pulls over his acoustic guitar, flipping the pages of his notebook to where he left off.

Sings in his smoky voice of a girl with sunshine in her hair and the stars in her eyes, of a girl who he calls home, the one his soul longs for, the person he finds rest in. His love.

With your heart in your throat and tears swimming in your eyes, you blurt out a broken, “I love you.”

He tugs you close, his heartbeat under your ear as he whispers back, “I love you most.”

——

#lunaloveseddie #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson blurbs #eddie munson fluff

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moonlitnyx · 29 days

Text

—𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐍—

You see the Vil Schoenheit sleeping in class, and you never seen him more peaceful.

—STARRING: VIL SCHOENHEIT X GN READER

—CONTENT: Fluff, reader had classic fan behavior of Vil (before getting to know him) reader thought that Vil had no “imperfections” (before getting to know him) Some (?) angst but idk if you can call that angst, Reader can be seen as yuu, set after the VDC (book 5) Vil believes he can’t show flaws (my poor baby lemme kiss him)

—FORMAT: Drabble (less than 1k words)

—AUTHORS NOTE: I haven’t written in like…months 😥 anyway I wrote this at like night so I bet theirs bound to be some mistakes…lemme know if you see any and I’ll fix it!! ALSO VILS NEW CARD HAS GOT ME BARKING LIKE A DOG!

Seeing Vil Schoenheit, the Vil Schoenheit, sleep was something you never thought would spark much interest for you.

Vil Schoenheit was pristine. Prim and proper. A hair never out of place. The very definition of perfect. He excelled in everything he put his mind to, and was the most hardworking person you knew. It just never hit you that Vil was also human, and the very thought of that made your ears heat up in shame.

Vil’s head was resting on his desk, golden locks of hair lightly framing his face as he inhaled and exhaled softly. Every once and a while his eye would twitch, and you would amusedly wonder what he was dreaming about.

You always had a teeny, tiny crush on Vil. He was everything a person wanted. Well-mannered, dedicated, and pretty (really, really pretty). Your parents would have loved him–and at the thought you can feel your face heat up even more.

You tuck a small strand of gold behind Vil’s ear, grinning when he mutters something incomprehensible. You think he looks absolutely ethereal like this, with the sun illuminating his sharp features.

You get up, trying not to disturb Vil when-

“Wait.”

Your eyes widen, meeting Vil’s lavender eyes. He’s smiling, lips curled into a teasing half-smirk. “I thought you were asleep!” Your voice comes out in a high-pitch, and you're rightfully angry (more like embarrassed). Was he watching you fawn over him this whole entire time?

He curls a strand of hair around his index, looking around the now-empty classroom. He looks slightly dazed, a cute expression of both confusion and abject horror. (He’s probably aghast that he might have been sleeping in class.) “How long have I been asleep? “ He muses, a frown on his face.

“You were probably tired from the VDC,” You pause as his violet eyes land on you. “I don’t think anyone would blame you for snoozin’ in class.”

Vil looks like he’s about to object, and you frown at that. You had always thought of Vil as perfect-and you’re half-afraid that he thinks so too. That he isn’t allowed to feel exhausted as well.

“I’ll walk you back to your dorm, if you're okay with that. And I can give you my notes from class! We didn’t really learn anything new much, but if you have questions-”

“Thank you.” He cuts you off with a small smile, eyes warm as he relaxes. “And I’m honored that you’d walk me back to my dorm.”

@ MOONLITNYX. do not plagiarize, claim my work as your own, translate or share my posts on any platform outside of tumblr. do not put my works in AI.

#͙͘͡★𝐍𝐘𝐗.𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒 #Twisted wonderland #Twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x you #Twst x reader #twst x you #Twst x y/n #Vil schoenheit x reader #vil schoenheit x you #Twst vil x reader #twst Vil x you #Twisted wonderland imagines #twst imagines

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yandere-sins · 5 months

Note

Hi, I saw that your request were open and that you want to write more ab Vil from TWST so I wanted to request him making his kidnapped darling try on the clothes he got for her or giving her a makeover if she wants more insecure before he took her (also I love your writing so much ♥️♥️♥️)

Thank you for requesting my little prince ♥ I hope you enjoy it!

Warning: Yandere, Sexual Content

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

Vil thought for a moment as he watched you standing on the pedestal, surrounded by mirrors that allowed him to see all sides of you.

Stiffly, awkwardly, with your hands curled into fists. Tears ruined some of your make-up, your eyes puffy, and your lips chewed on. You strictly avoided any glance into the mirrors as if the sight of yourself was too much to bear. Instead, you stared daggers at him, the scowl creating wrinkles on your lovely face, yet Vil had no other choice than to describe you as utterly...

Beautiful.

If he had to guess, you had been over playing dress-up with him after the third outfit. But when you didn't show the proper excitement about your new wardrobe, Vil continued putting new outfits together regardless of your opinion. Now at number thirteen, a floor-length, purple, flowy dress with two high slits on either side of your legs and the sweetest of necklines, he had found his personal favorite for you.

"Stunning," he sighed, pleased with the gratifying view in front of him. Nothing he put on you had come close to how beautifully this dress accentuated your body, every movement accompanied by a flowing swish or draping of the fabric that left nothing and everything to one's imagination. He would have praised himself for picking out the right outfit to suit you, but Vil was no liar. It was you who suited the outfit, not the other way around.

"Are we done now?" you asked with gritted teeth, and Vil tsked at your raised shoulders and hunched back while you bottled up your anger.

His eyes snapped from your body to yours, the darkest flames of hatred burning in them, accompanied by... insecurity. True, you might detest him for the rigid regime of perfection he put you through. You were his new project, his muse, his obsession. But Vil had no problem fighting your fire with passion, your lips always soft, no matter how harsh your words could be.

However, he drew the line at your insecurity.

"Turn around and show me the back," he ordered, rising from his lavish, cushioned chair reserved only for him. To admire you, watch his most precious possession from the comfort worthy of the housewarden. But it would never measure up to the fluttering feelings in his stomach, the jittering of his fingers, and the faltering breaths in his lungs from being near you. No comfort was greater than the excitement of standing beside you, close enough to smell you, almost touching. If only you knew how much you were ruining Vil by simply existing, surely you'd have wholly and utterly destroyed him by now. He would have let you.

"I don't want to--"

"Turn. Around."

Your complaint fell on deaf ears, and it almost broke his heart to see you lower your gaze away from his in what Vil could only assume was defeat and fear. One of these days, he'd let go of the leash he held you so tightly with, but only when you were ready to stand next to him proudly. When you were ready to take the control from him—and he was ready to give the control over him up to you.

Not a day Vil thought would come soon, but one he would never have expected to anticipate quite so eagerly.

Until then, he'd be the one to guide you, fingertips slipping under your chin when you tried to avoid your reflection in the mirror. You gripped the fabric of the dress tightly, trying to hold on to something as your fear began to rake its nasty claws through your captivating mind. Vil knew he couldn't stop these thoughts from appearing, but he'd play his part in annihilating them. He couldn't understand how you could fear something as perfect and wonderful as you were, but he knew you well enough to see the signs of you slipping from your feisty self to the one you didn't like as much.

"Look at you, Darling. See how dazzling you are."

"I am not!"

"You are! Take a look—for me."

Your jaw remained firm against his fingertips even when Vil applied pressure. He saw no betterment of your posture or any tension slipping out of your shoulders, and he sighed. It wasn't his first time having to coerce you, and it certainly wasn't going to be the last.

Grabbing a tissue from a nearby box, he stepped around you, blocking your view of the mirrors with his body while wiping off the ruined mascara from your cheeks. Your lipgloss was always at the ready in his pocket, a little trinket when he had to be away from you and missed you and your lips.

You might have flinched back from his efforts, but even a smear of lipgloss was easily fixed by his skilled hands, the product evenly distributed with a kiss. It brought back that adorable scowl of yours, but at least for a moment, you were distracted enough to look up at him again.

And there you were, his perfect, strong-willed darling that could shatter his whole world.

He leaned forward, unable to hold back kissing that defiant mouth of yours even when you stemmed your hands into his chest. The cherry flavor of the lipgloss was exquisite, as was the flustered expression. There was nothing unlovable about you, his hands brushing along your sides with all the discipline Vil could muster to not rip that beautiful dress off your body and make you come undone until you'd see your own beauty in the chaos he'd create with you.

"Now, please, if you would," Vil mused, reluctant to part, yet set on his mission of proving your worth to you. Brushing his thumb briefly over your forehead to remind you of your wrinkles, he stepped behind you again, hands never leaving your curves. You tried to lower your face almost immediately to avoid looking forward, but this time, one of his hands wrapped around your chin faster than you could react, keeping your head locked in place. Your eyes darted side to side, up and down, but Vil was patient. This was a matter of patience to him, not a matter of effort.

You were beautiful without any effort applied. From the moment he met you, inside and out, he knew you were beautiful. Worthy to stand beside him. Worthy of ruining him. To break apart this carefully structured image of himself. Only you could allow him to truly be who he was—a lover. Obsessive and possessive, but a lover regardless. A lover of arts, beauty, and you. His only task was to make you understand your place in life and the power you had deep inside you.

"Please," he reiterated, shaking your head curtly to make you refocus your attention on what he wanted you to do. You inhaled deeply before finally caving to his demands. Beautiful and strong-willed as you were in defying him, you were just as exquisite when you ceased the resistance and relied on him, soothing that suppressed part of his that wanted to be needed and loved by you desperately.

"I look..." you mumbled, fighting against his grip on your jaw. For a moment, he could see the flames of fight in your eyes, and Vil readied himself with the tingle of excitement in his stomach. But then the fire dimmed before vanishing completely, your gaze slipping down your body.

"Okay... I guess."

"Okay?!" Vil couldn't help the appalled gasp escaping him as he repeated your judgment of yourself. No matter how many times he fought your demons with you, it never ceased to surprise him how cruel they were. There you stood, a marvel and a star reborn as a whole galaxy, and thought of yourself as just 'okay'?

You could have very well gouged out his eyes and rammed a dagger in his stomach with how much that hurt him.

"Look at you! Look again!" Vil demanded, and you winced, his sudden grip on your hair forcing you to look up as he pushed you toward the mirror. "This is a gift! You are stunning, marvelous, to keel over for!"

"It's fine! It's a nice dress! Vil that hurts--!"

"No, not the dress, love! You! You are stunning and beautiful, do you understand?"

Your face contorted into a pained grimace as you tried to brace yourself against the mirror with one hand, the other reaching to the one lodged in your hair. Drastic situations needed drastic measures, and Vil would never be too shy to do what he had to make you understand your worth.

"I- I understand!" you finally gave in, and his hand was gone before you knew it, the pained sensation replaced with a swift turning your body around and a kiss to take your breath away.

"Say it," Vil mustered in between kisses, caging your body between the mirror and his, his hands falling to your thighs, running higher, thankful for the slits in the dress. On second thought, he could never have you wear it in public—it was much too revealing. No one should ever look at what was only his. But for his private enjoyment, this was perfect, and Vil was happy to show you just how stunning you were with the help of the indulgent dress.

"I'm pretty."

"Beautiful."

"I'm beautiful."

"Gorgeous, mesmerizing."

"Gorgeous—ah!"

His grip on your ass made you lose your concentration for a moment, but when Vil's teeth grazed your lips in warning, you remembered the mantra he was going on about. "Mesmerizing..." you mumbled, breath hitching as he massaged your backside.

"You are, baby. So stunning, the most dazzling creature in this world."

Prying himself away from your lips cost Vil most, if not all, of his hard-earned discipline, but he was far from done with you. He knew that if he didn't burn these opinions into your mind, they'd disappear and leave another hole for you to sink into. He was not going to allow that.

"Look at you," he ordered, turning you around again to face the mirror, pressing your face against it until your hot breath fogged the surface.

"Don't stop looking while I show you how beautiful you are."

You didn't seem to expect anything, much less to see the proud and proper housewarden sink to his knees behind you. But there was beauty to be shown in your most vulnerable moments, and a dress was so easily pushed aside, giving him access to the space he forbade you to hide with any underwear.

He checked one more time if you were looking, both pleased and angry, that your eyes had fallen on him instead of yourself, wide open and with a hint of surprised anticipation of what he was going to do next. But you'd be looking straight ahead soon enough because what he was about to do would make you forget all your hesitations and insecurities, leaving only room to realize your true, amazing, stunning self.

After all, his tongue could do much more than speak words you barely believed. It could also make you see what you truly were when you were most vulnerable:

Beautiful.

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spoiledblogif · 2 months

Text

This is the development blog for the interactive fiction called "The Second Sight", which you can find on itch.io at the link above!

This is my first IF project, although I've been writing original stories and fanfiction for years.

I've included the story description and character profiles from the itch page below the cut.

This blog will be a combination of development info, images and music that I associate with the story, and other musings.

Fair warning, there might be spoilers from the latest chapters here, so I recommend catching up before reading too far.

Asks and submissions are always open.

You’re an urban legend in a county full of them. When you were thirteen, you were found passed out in the road by one of the local cops. No missing persons report. No fingerprints on file. No memories. Just a name.

Oh, and some bizarre psychic powers. You're content with simplicity. You like your isolated cabin and helping Carter track down missing persons. You know that in theory there are more people like you out there, but you've never wanted to look behind the curtain to find out.

However, with the disappearance of a local teen named Casey Powell and a recent attempt on your foster father's life, your serene, isolated life comes abruptly to its end and a new chapter begins.

✤✤✤

The Second Sight is an urban fantasy story, where you step into the role of a psychic whose strange powers have always separated them from others. Those same powers will drag you down the rabbit hole and into a world that is both the familiar and foreign to everything you know. A world filled with magic, witches, fae, demons, and the unknown.

You can immerse yourself in the story by customizing your protagonist's general appearance, choosing how they interact with others, and whether you lean on logic or intuition to problem solve. There are three love interests planned (more may be added depending on player reception and feedback), the genders of which will be selected by the player upon meeting them.

Characters

Jacob Carter

Age: Late forties

Race: Human. Definitely.

Gender: Male

Temperament: Carter radiates grizzled, old bastard energy and despite being the least paternal person in the world, he is your adoptive father. While harsh and aloof on the surface, he is also fiercely protective of you and has bent over backwards to give a decent life to a kid that isn't even his. He doesn't talk about his life before coming to Herman County and you haven't asked him, though that might change soon enough...

✤✤✤

Zander/Zora

Age: Late twenties.

Race: Human.

Appearance: Umber brown skin, black locs, grey eyes

Temperament: Gentle and resolute, Z isn't what you imagine when you think of an agent of the mysterious Magic and Anomalies Bureau. Kind, soft-spoken, and exceedingly polite, Z is Carter's former apprentice and something about them puts the old man on edge.

✤✤✤ Renard/Rowan

Age: Appears to be in their late twenties or early thirties

Race: Human. Maybe.

Appearance: Tall and slender, white-blonde hair, and gold eyes.

Temperament: Playful and flirtatious, talking to R always feels like a game of cat and mouse and you can never be sure which role is yours. Part sad clown, part trickster, and always maddening to work with, the only things you can be certain of with R is that they probably know what they're doing. Everything else is up in the air.

✤✤✤

Unknown aka "The Kestrel"

Age: ???

Race: Definitely not human.

Appearance: Tall, beautiful, elegant, with black hair and black eyes.

Temperament: The Kestrel is a complete unknown. It's impossible to say whether they are a lethal ally or deadly enemy, but either way they are a powerful dreamwalker. You don't know how long they've been watching you, but you're willing to bet that it's been longer than you're comfortable with.

#pinned post #blog intro #interactive fiction #the second sight

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daizymax · 3 months

Text

the ways we love | lfl (m)

summary: periods of work mean periods without play between you and your longtime boyfriend. after he offers to be the muse for your latest artistic piece, you realize just how much you appreciate his never-ending support.

pairing: felix x fem reader

genre: smut

word count: 7.9k

rating: mature (18+)

warnings & features: established relationship; profanity; mentions of alcohol consumption and (past) drunken sex; public marriage proposal; brief mention of having children; graphic sexual content; dom!felix; dirty talk; use of pet names; fingering; some spit play; oral sex (m receiving); some spanking; penetrative sex; multiple orgasms; creampie; aftercare

author’s note: rewritten for stray kids and reuploaded from my old blog. i think this will be the last of the fics from my old blog that i'll be reuploading here for the foreseeable future. also, i forgot how much fun i had writing the smut in this one. hope you enjoy!

( click here to read on AO3 instead )

---

He had started off so well. He was relaxed, comfortable, cheerful. Happy to help. This was his idea, after all.

But now… now he’s fidgety. Anxious and bored. You sympathize with that, but if he doesn’t — “Doll, can you please stop moving?” — then you’re ready to give up this entire project already.

“I’m sorry,” he sighs in that sweet, deep voice of his. “You’re just being so quiet. I thought you’d at least talk to me and let me know how it’s coming.”

You spare him a quick, direct glance before refocusing on the canvas. “I’m not going to give you a play-by-play of every mark I make, Lix. I need to concentrate. I want this to be as perfect as you are.”

Felix huffs and averts his eyes, but you know you have appeased him from the way he falls silent and relaxes his shoulders again. The new pink hue spreading across his freckled nose, ears and cheeks would be a nice touch if only you were ready to add color to the piece. For now, you store the inspirational image away for later.

You manage to finish your outline and flesh out some details around his nose before his real-live self ruins his posture — and subsequently, the lighting on his face — by shifting in his seat yet again. With a sigh, you set your utensils aside, wipe your palms on your pants and say, “How about a break? Let me get you a drink.”

Whatever his answer was going to be — agreement, argument, or otherwise — does not have time to be voiced before you are breezing by him and into the kitchen. When you return, he accepts the glass of water and obeys your command to drink up. You watch as he tips an ice cube into his mouth and licks his heart-shaped lips afterward.

He mistakes your admiration for scrutiny. “What’s wrong?”

You smooth some stray hairs near his ear and poke the bulge of ice in his cheek. “Nothing at all. I just like looking at you.”

He crunches the ice and blushes deeper. “Thanks. Don’t you need to do that from the other side of the room, though? Any idea when you might be finished?”

You shrug and fuss with the collar of his shirt until it un-creases. “You know I can’t answer that. A few hours? Days? Weeks? Whenever I’m satisfied with it. Or whenever you say, ‘Fuck you, I’m done with this.’ I told you I can always just use a photo to finish this so you don’t have to model for me.”

Felix smiles softly. “No, I don’t want you to do that. I volunteered, didn’t I? I like modeling for you. It feels fancy to do it this way, like it might turn out better if we do it like this.”

“Maybe, maybe not. Maybe it’ll be so awful you’ll leave me over how monstrous I make you look.”

“Well, at least that would make an interesting story to tell my next girlfriend.”

You giggle. “That’s true. Why don’t I just do a caricature? That way, if it looks bad, I can pretend it was on purpose.”

“No. God no,” he says firmly. “You’re too good an artist to be making pieces look silly on purpose.”

You peck his forehead. “Well, if you want this to be ‘professional,’ you have to sit still for me, doll.”

“I will. I’ll behave.” He tilts his chin to seek out your lips, and you willingly give them up. You smile into the kiss when you see him fumble to set his glass aside on the coffee table beside him without breaking contact with you. Before he can free up his hands to do goodness-knows-what with them, you slink away, back to your easel.

“You just told me you’d behave. If you’re not backing out, then I’m still working, and that means no playing,” you remind him.

He knows, but there is still a hint of disappointment in his dark brown gaze.

These abstinence periods are relatively new to your long-standing relationship. You suppose most people would think a couple purposefully denying themselves sex would tear a wedge of stress and resentment between them, but that has not been the case with you and Felix. It’s a stimulus. A game. A challenging one, to be sure, but always immensely rewarding.

So that is what you have both agreed: there is no sex while you are working on a piece. Not until the job is finished.

“How long do you think this one will take?” Felix asks again.

You plop down in your seat with a light groan and gather your utensils again. “The answer is the same, Lix. I can’t say for sure. A few hours, days, weeks?”

Your pretty muse nods and takes another sip of water as he mentally prepares himself for the oncoming drought. He does his best to relax in his seat again, and you flash him a smile before getting back to work.

---

It takes twelve days to complete the portrait, and Felix is not even sitting across from you when the last stroke falls upon the canvas. He might be offended by this once he finds out, but you couldn’t stop yourself from finishing without him. Besides, you know he will ultimately be as happy as you are that it is finally finished.

Truthfully, you might have been able to do most of the portrait simply from memory; you know his face as well as your own by now.

A sigh flutters past your lips. You take a step back to better admire (and scrutinize) your work. As you scan it over, you can’t help but smile. Not just out of pride for the job you did, but because of the striking resemblance you have been striving to achieve.

It is always difficult to instill life and warmth into mere lines and dots and smudges, but the two-dimensional rendition truly seems as though it could begin breathing at any moment, and a fresh wave of fondness for your best friend and lover as the real-life person he is comes over you. That is how you know you are satisfied, and not just in terms of your finished project.

This is something to celebrate, so after deciding how you want to do so, you pick up your phone to text Felix about an important dilemma.

[You: hey i forgot what you’re wearing today]

There is enough time to change out of your old, splattered overalls and heat up a late lunch before your phone buzzes back.

[Felix: i know it’s been a while since we’ve sexted but i think you meant to phrase that as “what are you wearing” with a smirk emoji]

You almost choke on a bite of your food as you laugh out loud.

You: dfjfdjso i’m not trying to sext you. i just need to know if you’re dressed nicely enough for a restaurant with a decent wine list tonight. we have some celebrating to do

[Felix: how come?]

[You: it’s finished]

This time your phone does not buzz. It rings.

“You finished the portrait?” Felix’s voice is hushed and a little rushed. You can tell he is on the move, probably heading somewhere away from his co-workers and customers for a more private conversation.

“It’s signed and everything,” you say cheerfully.

“That’s fantastic!” he says, not the least bit offended. “This is definitely worth celebrating. We should go to the nicest place in town and dress to the nines.”

More laughter bursts from deep in your chest. “Wha— I mean, it’s still just a portrait, Lix. I didn’t win an award or solve a murder case or anything.”

“So? I” — you hear the sound of a door closing in the background — “sat in that chair for a hundred years and went celibate waiting for that portrait to be done. No offense. This deserves a grand celebration.”

Your eyeroll can probably be heard through the receiver. “It didn’t take that long, did it? It was less than two weeks. Remember that waterfall landscape I did?”

Felix grunts at the memory. “Yeah, how can I forget? Longest month-and-a-half of my entire life.”

“It was worth it in the end, though, wasn’t it?” you say, remembering how neither of you could walk properly for at least a couple days after you finished that particular piece, which is now proudly mounted on a wall in the master bedroom. “Come on, doll. When I pick you up, we’ll go out and have that decent wine with a decent meal so the public knows we’re celebrating something, and then we’ll come home and fuck each other blind, okay?”

There was a time years ago when he might have choked and sputtered over your words, but this lewd proposal is mild, and today he doesn’t flinch.

“If that’s what Madame Artiste wants, then that’s what she’ll get,” Felix says.

He offers you a choice between two restaurants he deems himself dressed appropriately for without having to come home and change, and once you choose, he asks, “Can you just bring my navy suit jacket with you so I can make this outfit work, please? I’ll see you later. I can’t wait.”

He ends the call with the sound of a kiss.

---

The chimes on the door draw the attention of three pairs of eyes, and the sight of you stepping into the salon brings a smile to Felix’s face. Well, the mask on the lower half of his face prevents you from actually seeing his smile, but the happiness is there in his deep brown eyes.

“Hi,” he says, scanning your date-night outfit with obvious appreciation. “Be right with you.”

“Take your time,” you say, smiling at the customer sitting across from him. She smiles back politely and returns her attention to Felix, who goes back to focusing on her fingernails. He meticulously sweeps an emery board across the rounded ruby shapes to finish smoothing them out.

The third person in the salon gets up from his cozy perch in one of the pedicure chairs at the end of the row and crosses the floor.

“You look so nice, Y/N. Is it date night?”

“Yep, we’re off to dinner,” you say, accepting the man’s hug. “What’s new, Ji?”

“Oh, not much.” Jisung shrugs and takes one of your hands. He inspects your fingernails, which have unsightly matte polka dots chipped in the gloss. “Want me to redo these before you go? It won’t take that long.”

You let out a fleeting giggle. “Honestly, I don’t know why I bother getting them done in the first place when I put so much wear and tear on them. This damage only took me a week.”

“Well that’s because—” Jisung shoots your boyfriend a quick look and clearly alters the second part of his statement, “—you did them at home. You need to have them professionally done.”

His way of criticizing Felix’s work while leaving the customer in the room none the wiser is clever, and you have half a mind to applaud him for poking fun at his friend without hurting their business.

The comment is not lost on Felix. He glares over at you and Jisung, but he cannot seem to think of a subtle rebuttal, so he stews in silence.

“Ah, maybe that’s my problem,” you say, grinning.

“Give me, like, fifteen minutes and you’ll be all set,” Jisung promises.

As he’s making his offer, Felix finishes with the woman. From the edge of your vision, you see him remove his mask and lead her to the register to finish the transaction.

“Are you working Saturday morning?” you ask Jisung. “I’ll stop in then and you can do my toes, too.”

Before he can either confirm or deny the appointment, Felix interrupts by coming up behind you and waving his tip in front of your face. “Here, look what my ‘unprofessional’ work got us,” he says. “Buy yourself something nice, baby.”

You chuckle at his little joke until you flick through the bills and realize just how much worth is in them. “Wow, Lix, she was so generous!”

“She was appreciative of the amazing job I did,” he corrects with a peck to your cheek, then he takes his suit jacket from your arms to slip it on. “Sorry, Ji, we have to go. Ready, Y/N?”

“Ready,” you say.

“Sounds good,” Jisung replies at the same time. “I’ll lock up here. Enjoy your date, guys. See you Saturday, Y/N.”

---

The wine is more than decent, the food hits all the right spots, and the company is absolutely perfect.

Felix laughs happily from across the table. Strands of pale blonde hair trickle past his ears the further he tips his head back, and the apples of his cheeks are hued pink from where the rosé has gone. His smile loses none of its dazzle when the waiter interrupts to check on the two of you. The sheer warmth he radiates is boundless in the most endearing way.

When the waiter leaves, you watch Felix lean back in his chair. His eyes land on yours, and while some of the amusement fades from his face, the fondness remains. You see it there, twinkling in the inky pools of his irises; you feel it in the comfort he exudes while he is with you.

For some reason, the contentment of the moment draws something to mind. “Do you remember when we first met?” you ask out of the blue.

The corners of his eyes crinkle. “Of course I do. Remember how you tried to kiss me?”

“Oh my god, yes,” you groan. “Honestly, I still don’t remember a whole lot about that night, but I definitely remember you saying, ‘Oh, no thank you,’ right in my face.”

“Listen,” he laughs in defense, holding up a finger. “I was trying to be polite. I was trying to be a gentleman. You were a hot mess. That party had you twenty so’s-worth of shit-faced.”

“Twenty what?”

“You were so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so, soooo…” he starts chanting his stupid joke.

You giggle and hang your head. “Okay, okay, I get it.”

“Hang on.” He holds that finger up higher. “So, so, SOOOO—”

“I said I get it already!”

“—so shit-faced. I didn’t want to embarrass you.”

“You did embarrass me, though! By rejecting me.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” he says, dipping his head in apology, “but we both would’ve been way more embarrassed if we’d slept together that night. It would’ve been a disaster.”

You quirk an eyebrow. “What makes you think I would’ve slept with you so soon?”

“Uh. Did you or did you not sleep with my roommate that night instead?”

“Fair enough," you say, toasting your wine glass in his direction. “It’s only funny now because we’re the ones who ended up together.”

Felix smiles. “Thank goodness for that. Life is pretty incredible with you in it, sweetheart.”

His words sober you a bit, and you smile back almost shyly. “I could say the same about you, doll.”

He probably does not always love you as much and as effortlessly as he does right now. He certainly is not always his best, most charming self the way he is right now. Neither are you. But he is still worth loving when he is at his worst, and if you could have moments like these scattered all throughout the rest of your life, you feel it would be enough. His love and support and respect and admiration are more than enough.

So it comes as a soft entreaty rather than a question; out of the blue again, but also a long time coming: “Please marry me.”

This time Felix raises an eyebrow. He seems more intrigued than surprised by your impromptu proposal. Then he half-purses, half-pouts his lips in a cheeky sort of expression, like he thinks you’re bluffing but is willing to play along anyway.

That feeling of overconfidence you had that first drunken night when you leaned in to kiss him in a stranger’s kitchen comes back, as does the fear of the rejection you suffered immediately afterward. If he says ‘Oh, no thank you,’ again, you wonder if you’ll die of embarrassment right here in this restaurant, surrounded by different strangers with different alcohol on your breath.

But you know he won’t, not even as a joke, because he knows you now. He knows you well, and he sees the sincerity in your face.

“I don’t have a ring,” you go on, “but I’ll get down on one knee right here, right now. This dress won’t stop me.”

Wordlessly, Felix lifts his napkin from his lap to lay it across his plate, then leans sideways to pull something from his pocket. He casually holds it up for your inspection, and once you realize what it is, you move to kneel in front of him as promised without even questioning the coincidence. Now is not the time for questions. Now is the time to show how serious you are about this.

Felix stares down at you and pries open the tiny case to reveal the brilliance of the diamond’s sparkle. Your fingers are sure and steady when he slips the top-heavy band onto the appropriate one.

“I would be honored to marry you,” he says softly, poking back and forth at the engagement ring with the edge of his thumbnail.

By now there are dozens of eyes on the quiet scene the two of you are making, but his are the only pair you see. His smile is still there, softer and smaller now, but still brimming with the adoration he has gained over the years. It widens when you rise up just enough to press your lips to it. His hand finds the back of your head the same second yours cups his.

A round of coos and charmed applause from the crowd goes up around you, but it is all background noise to the sound of Felix’s precious, giddy laughter.

---

He is no longer laughing by the time you throw the front door shut and press him up against it. The needy kisses between here and the car have taken most of his oxygen.

“Shit,” he hisses, watching you work his belt buckle. “You get a ring on your finger and you turn feral, is that how it works?”

You growl playfully but say nothing.

“You better slow down, tiger, or we won’t last five minutes.”

“Don’t care.”

“Aren’t you gonna show me what we waited so long for this for first?”

“Later. I thought you were dying of celibacy?” you sass.

Felix clicks his tongue. The simple sound is quiet, but it shifts the air. You stop trying to get into his pants to give his dark eyes your undivided attention.

“We have all the time in the world now, don’t we?” he murmurs, as though the hard-on in his jeans is not growing as impatient as you.

You swallow. “I just want you so badly. It hurts.”

His gaze sharpens at your tone. “Does it?” He reaches up to graze a thumb along your bottom lip. “Where does it hurt, sweetheart? Here?”

The sound you let out is something between a hum and a whine. You feel so sex-starved, so desperate for any morsel of pleasure he can feed you. You try to take his thumb into your mouth, but he slips it away too fast, plucking your lip as he goes. He brushes across your breast next. The sensation is dulled by your clothing, but your nipple stands to attention nonetheless.

“What about here?” he whispers.

“Yes…” The fingers that had been so keen on removing his belt cling idly to the leather.

“Aw.” Felix pouts and bats his eyelashes at you, but his sympathy feels insincere. He’s amused by the state of you. He adores seeing you so riled up and pliant for him.

His thumb trails further, straight down your stomach, while the rest of his fingers are kept stiff and carefully away from your buzzing body.

Eventually, he reaches the crease between your thighs and presses through the layers of your dress and your panties where he estimates your clit to be. He is a little north at first but quickly readjusts his position. The soft moan you let out is a dead giveaway for when he has found it.

“And here?” He takes a step closer while he begins drawing tiny circles. “Tell me, angel, does it hurt here?”

“Yes. Yes...”

He kisses your cheek tenderly. Mercifully. His deep voice is pitched even deeper when he murmurs, “Shh. I know it does. It’s finally time for me to make it better, isn’t it.”

You cant your hips against his hand. “Felix, please...”

“Come here.”

He trades places to cage you up against the front door. You reach for him, but he draws back out of reach to shrug out of his jacket first. After he carefully pushes the sleeves of his sweater up, he uses both hands to hike your dress up along your waist. There is no rush to his movements. In fact, it’s almost graceful the way he does it, as though the actions he is about to perform could be considered decent.

When you try to remove your underwear from his way, he nudges your hands aside. “Ah-ah-ah,” he tuts. “We’re getting ahead of ourselves. Tell me the safe word first, Y/N.”

After all this time, he still has you say it out loud beforehand. Beneath your eager lust, you appreciate the basic act of care and commitment to playing the dominant role.

“Candle,” you answer.

He thanks you as though you’ve done him a favor and places a light kiss on the edge of your jaw. Then he hooks his thumb through the side of your panties to touch the hood of your bare clit directly. A jolt of electricity singes your nerves from his first flick. Your body noticeably quivers, and Felix smirks at his quick, effortless effect on you.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” he drawls lowly.

You swallow again, drier this time. “Mm-hm.”

“Because we don’t play while you’re working anymore, do we?”

You shake your head. “Hm-mm.”

“And you’ve been working so hard, haven’t you, baby?”

You hum again, louder this time. Or maybe it’s a full-blown moan. Whatever the sound is, it becomes incessant over each passing second and each pass of his thumb. Every noise you make is met with a return sigh or hum from Felix. Every jerk of your hips is matched by a tilt of his head or other shift in his posture.

Getting fingered like this, fully dressed and up against the front door of your home, spikes a carnal, filthy pleasure into your blood. It sears through your muscles, hotter and hotter until it beads between your skin and your clothes. You want to take them off, but you dare not stop Felix for a second. You keen with lust and desperation.

“I know. I know,” he purrs, soft and sweet as a kitten. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Feels so good...” He nuzzles the space between your jaw and your neck and inhales deeply.

You tilt your face away to give him better access, but he peels back and takes your chin in his other hand to steer you back toward him. A puff of hot breath hits your damp temple; it almost feels cool.

“Eyes on me. Good girl.” His gaze skims down your form. “You’re still shaking. All I’ve done is touch your clit and you’re that close already, huh?”

“Yes, so close,” you admit, completely unashamed. “Just keep going, please just keep going.”

Felix smiles and takes the sweat from your temple with a pair of kisses. “How can I say no when you beg me so nicely like the perfect angel you are? Hold onto me. C’mon.”

You instinctively go to clutch his biceps but think of a better idea and hook your arms around his neck instead. Felix allows you to pull him even closer and finally — finally — slips another finger into your panties. He pushes it into your opening with almost no resistance, and you gasp when his knuckles bottom out inside you. Just as quickly as the finger entered, a second one joins and curls. He keeps them buried for a moment, then drags them back out to smear the juices he collected around your swollen bud. The slipperier his work gets, the more he enjoys it.

“Your pussy is so perfect,” he breathes. “Spread your legs. I want to feel just how wet it gets for me.”

You obediently open your legs wider, and he delves back in immediately, fast enough that his palm audibly claps against your slick lips, hard enough to send your head tipping backward to thump against the door. When his thumb drops back to your clit and nudges under the hood this time, you know it won’t be long until you’re unraveled.

“Ohhh my god,” you groan. More sweat builds on your forehead, on your chest, under your arms, along the backs of your knees. You grow lightheaded from the static in your veins from being fucked open by Felix’s talented, diligent fingers.

“That’s it,” he pants. You’re not sure when he became so breathless. “That’s it, sweetheart. Let go. Come for me. Come for me. Come.”

Another dozen strokes and you do as you’re told with a pinched yelp. Felix kisses your throat as he works you up your high and eases you back down, undulating his wrist and babbling encouragements into your sticky skin.

“That’s it, squeeze my fingers, just like that. Squeeze ‘em tight. Tight. There you go. That’s my good girl. So gorgeous when you come. So fucking perfect. Hey.”

The hand not still knuckle-deep in your pussy cups your cheek and pulls you in. He swallows the whines and the airless, nonsensical words of thanks you huff between kisses.

Once your breathing has had time to settle, he gingerly slips his fingers from your sensitive, throbbing walls. He doesn’t even look at those fingers as he brings them to his tongue. In fact, he closes his eyes altogether as he laps the tips and moans indulgently, as though this is the first time he has ever tasted you.

When he is done cleaning the mess you made on him, he looks you in the eye and says, “Now that we’ve rubbed out that easy one, I’m open to suggestions on what to do next.”

“Let me return the favor?” You inflect it as a question.

Felix smirks. “It wasn’t a favor, sweetheart, it was a pleasure. But since you’re asking so nicely again… c’mere.”

He tugs you by the hands and begins walking backward, slipping out of his shoes as he goes, and you follow his lead. You assume he is bringing you to the bedroom, but he stops when his feet hit the carpet in the living room and glances over his shoulder. It must be the chair he was looking for because he then moves toward it with a sense of purpose, leaving you a few paces behind.

“Strip,” he orders. His voice is even and his expression is calm as he sits and crosses an ankle over his opposite knee.

You move to obey without hesitation, twisting your arm behind your back to yank down the zipper on your dress. Felix keeps his eyes fixed on your face as you peel the gown away from your shoulders. Gravity takes the fabric to your waist, and you shove it down the rest of the way to step out of it completely. Next, you snap one of your bra straps with an eyebrow cocked in question.

Felix nods. “Mhm. Keep going ‘til you’re in nothing but that ring.”

You had nearly forgotten about it. You lift your hand to look at it again, but a sudden noise startles you. It sounds like more of a crack than a snap from the way it ricochets off the walls of your home, though you know a snap is exactly what it was by the pose of Felix’s fingers in the air.

“Don’t get distracted now,” he says, deep voice rumbling. He drops his hand back to his lap. “You’re being so good. Finish taking off your clothes, then come here.”

With his instructions, you unhook your bra and let it drop to the floor. His eyes dip to your naked chest, but his expression is more clinical than enticed.

You shove your thumbs into the band of your panties and stall there until you get the attention you want. It takes Felix a few seconds to realize you’re not moving and look back to your face. When he meets your eyes, he mouths the word ‘off,’ leaving his teeth planted in his bottom lip for an extended moment. Even when he is silent, you feel the authority radiating from him. You shiver when the air hits your slick, heated center.

Felix uncrosses his legs, and you finally glean a proper peek at your effect on him. The erection in his pants looks past the point of painful, but his demeanor is still relaxed as he invites you to stand in front of him by casually tossing a throw pillow at his feet. Once your toes brush against it, he reaches for your hands and sweeps his lips across your knuckles, quick and affectionate. Then his hands are on your waist, and near your ribs, and around the curves of your ass, and across your thighs. He soothes them up and down your skin, imprinting patches of heat everywhere he roams.

“There’s my gorgeous girl.” He leans forward and plants an open-mouthed kiss on your lower stomach, then peers up through his eyelashes at you and directs, “On your knees for me, gorgeous.”

Another look at his covered crotch and you do as you’re bid. When your knees touch down on the pillow, Felix shifts to whip his belt out of its loops at last. By the time it clanks to the floor, you’re already helping him with the button and the zipper. He lets you tug his pants down to and away from his ankles. His socks go next, and he takes care of his sweater and undershirt himself. His underwear is last but gone in a flash and then there he sits, stripped bare with his toned abdominals twitching and his cock standing flushed and rigid just for you. He is so goddamn beautiful.

“Is this what you want?” He leans back and takes his rosy length in a loose fist. “Is this what you’ve been being so good and working so hard for?”

You swallow and pretend it’s his precum sliding down your throat. “Yes.”

“What’s that, baby?” He strokes upward.

“Yes.”

“What do you say?” He strokes downward. Back up again. Your eyes may as well be stringed puppets with the way they follow helplessly.

“I said yes,” you repeat again.

And he patiently repeats: “No, what do you say? Look at me.”

Once you meet his lust-glazed stare, you don’t have to wrack your brain for the answer he’s looking for.

“Please,” you say, “let me suck your cock. I want it so badly. You deserve to feel good after waiting so long.”

Felix tucks his chin down, puckers his lips, and releases a ball of spit onto the head of his cock. Another soon follows, racing alongside the first, joining the trail of wetness that already leaked from the slit.

You shuffle closer between his knees and take him in your hand. He lets go of himself, but not before brushing his fingertips along the back of your hand. The gesture is deliberate, not coincidental, and you smile up at him. He smiles back, more with his eyes than his mouth. His mouth is used to give commands such as, “Put it in your mouth, sweetheart,” before leaning back comfortably. Even with his pulsing erection at your mercy, he is a marvel of beauty and dominance.

You give him a few strokes to spread the wetness around and simply enjoy the slick glide, then bend to take in his wet tip. He tastes delicious. Good enough for you to moan on contact, good enough for you to want to fill your entire mouth with his warm heaviness. He is tangy from his natural body and sweet from the taste of wine lingering in his spit. You sink down further, letting your tongue follow the path of a prominent vein.

“Open wide. That’s it,” he says. His voice is steady but barely there. The relief of finally being touched where he wants it most runs a succinct shiver through his legs, but otherwise he remains controlled, even when you tighten your lips to hollow your cheeks. “There you go. So good for me. So good at sucking my dick.”

His praise leaves you hungry for more, so you slather your tongue down and around his balls to hear the way his sighs and quiet pants start to crack his composure. He shifts his hips to ensure you can reach every sensitive part of him, and his cock feels just a bit stiffer when you try to swallow it down your throat.

“Hah,” he gasps. “Oh, fuck, baby, that’s it.”

On the armrest of the chair, his fist clenches tight enough to pop a knuckle. He soon releases it, however, and moves his hand toward you. You half-expect him to hold you in place because you know how much he enjoys being in your throat, but instead, he eases you off of him and uses his loose grip on the top of your head to roll it back in a slow, gentle circle along your neck and around your shoulders. A strand of spit — there is no way to tell whether it is yours or his — still bridges your lips to his swollen cock. You reach out to break it with your tongue, curling it devilishly. Felix watches with dark, hooded eyes.

“Dirty girl.” He wipes away the dribble on your chin with his thumb. “Where do you want it?”

You don’t quite understand his question. “Hm?”

Once again, he takes your hands in his, this time to help you up off the floor and onto his lap where he can sling your arms around his neck. The only conceivable reason for him to cut a blowjob so short is that he is already too close to coming. You won’t call him out on it, but you’re thrilled to know it’s true.

“I asked you where you want it. Where do you want me to fuck you?” His vulgar inquiry is warm honey on your tongue. “You want me to take you up against the wall? Fuck you so good and so hard that you can’t fucking walk in the morning? Hm?” His hum vibrates your lips with the sweetest melody. “Do you want me to take you in our bed, under the sheets, nice and slow, until you can’t remember your own name?” His lips are a soft, decadent treat you sink your teeth into. “Or do you want me to take you in this chair, right here where I sat while you were across the room working for hours and hours instead of bouncing on my dick?” His perfume is a laced drug that could leave you high in bliss for hours.

“Yes,” you breathe into his mouth. You pull at his lips, molding and folding them with yours while you feel up every inch of his skin you can reach — his jaw, his back, his arms, his chest, his stomach.

Felix relinquishes a shred of his control with a groan as he ravishes your lips right back. His own hands crawl along your shoulder blades, your spine, your ass. Eventually, he clears his head well enough to say, “That’s not an answer, sweetheart. You need to tell me right now where you want to fuck, or I’m choosing for you.”

“Here. Chair. Now,” you rasp brokenly.

He hoists you up right away, perching your ass halfway onto one of his forearms and using his other hand to drag his swollen, spongy cockhead through your folds until he finds your entrance. The tip slips inside with a stretch but little resistance, as does the rest of him until your lap and his are pressed flush against one another’s.

You rock your hips slowly to welcome the intrusion and ensure he is as deep and you are as full as possible, and his breath hitches from the movement. He lowers his eyes in a straight path from your eyes to your nose to your chin. His lips part as though he is going to say something, but after a couple seconds, he leans forward to give you another searing kiss instead, bracing a hand against your spine to keep you from tipping backward from the sudden motion.

Whatever he was going to say about how good it feels to be sunk in your wet heat again is conveyed through his tongue on yours and the way he clutches your bare skin.

Just when you think perhaps all his words have dried up, Felix sucks his mouth off yours, lays a slap across your ass, and grunts in deep bass: “Bounce for me, baby.”

You would love nothing more than to do just that, so you build up a steady pace as quick as you can. He is just thick enough to rub your walls and make them burn in the best way imaginable. The smacks that come from your pelvis and thighs meeting his over and over are lewd and wet and so fucking good. So fucking good.

You shut your eyes and hang your head back. “Oh my fucking god…”

Felix keeps an arm hooked around your moving waist while he paws at you from the front. He splays his free hand across your throat, applying just enough pressure to get a feel for your erratic pulse, then slips down your collarbone, down your chest to squeeze one of your tits.

“That’s it, baby. This is what we’ve been missing, isn’t it?” He lifts your breast and leans forward to wrap his lips around the perked nipple. The sensation makes you involuntarily clench around him, and he whimpers from the tightness. “Fuck, I’ve missed this so much.”

His admission spurs you to speed up. You try to roll your hips at the bottom of every drop, but your movements are getting sloppier the higher your pleasure climbs. It doesn’t seem to matter to Felix, though. His ragged breathing is a telltale sign of how good it feels to have your soaked pussy dragging up and down his cock. He tries to find your staggered rhythm in order to buck upward in time with your drops and help drive himself into your sweetest spot, but although both of you are hyper-concentrated on reaching your peaks, the coordination is not quite there.

“Sweetheart, you’re falling apart on my dick,” he moans with the little breath he has. “Jesus, you’re squeezing me so goddamn tight. You’ve already come once and now you’re about to soak my whole fucking lap, aren’t you?”

“Lix, I-I’m s-s-so-” you trill mindlessly.

“So close, I know.” He gives the fleshiest part of your ass another solid slap, then digs his fingers in to help you rock back and forth against him. “Do it. Come again on my fucking cock, baby. We’ve earned it.”

You work to get all the friction the ridges of his raw cock can give you, but the edge you’re chasing is still on the horizon, just a bit too far out of reach. “Felix, I can’t…”

“I’ll get you there,” he swears. “Let’s just—”

In no time, you’re on your back on the floor and Felix is plunging his steely length back between your drenched folds. Your legs automatically anchor themselves around his hips to steady yourself against the jarring pace he sets. The aftermath of the rough carpet on your bare skin is a worry for a later. Right now, you whine at him to go faster, go harder, just don’t fucking stop, whatever he does.

Felix leans close and takes one of your knees to push it back toward your chest so he can fuck into you deeper. His breath is hot and shaky and somewhere in the vicinity of your earlobe as he whispers, “Fuck, you’ve gotta come now, angel. Please.”

He readjusts his weight and his grip on you, pushes deep just a few more times, and you’re finally coming again, crying out and clenching around him so tight it nearly hurts from how hard he is inside you. He fucks you through your entire high, never stopping the solid snap-snap-snap of his slim hips.

“God, fuck, I’m right fucking there,” he huffs and pants. Sweat drips from his brow onto your cheek. “Where do you want it? Where should I come?”

“In me, come in me,” you beg, reaching down to squeeze his tight ass and urge him even deeper into your soaked depths.

Felix whines something wordlessly lyrical in a high alto as his release fills you with a sticky warmth. He fucks his cum into you with rough, staggered thrusts, his pace slowing but never completely stopping. Your legs begin to ache as he continues gingerly pumping himself. You assume his spent cock must hurt from the rising sensitivity following his orgasm, but he is not quite finished.

“Holy shit,” he whimpers. “Your pussy’s so fucking tight, I think I could come again.”

Your walls clench around him because you know he is serious. “Do it, baby,” you pant hard. “Use my pussy to come again. I want it all.”

“Yes, yes, yes. Just a little more, I’m gonna— fuck!”

He finds a second shaky high and buries his fingers in your hips deep enough that the bruises may last until your wedding day. The force with which he pulses a final spurt of cum toward your cervix is something you’re certain to remember for a long time as well.

“Holy shit,” Felix sighs again, blissful and fucked out. The two of you moan together when he slips out of you, still half hard. “Come here, angel.”

He slumps to the side and gathers you in his arms to face him. You tuck your forehead between his jaw and his shoulder, and he traces his fingertips along your shoulder blades where the skin is a little irritated from its row with the carpet. You’re not worried about the sting, but your nerves wince under his touch anyway, and he apologizes immediately.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I’m such an idiot. I shouldn’t have—”

“You’re not an idiot,” you giggle tiredly. “We’ve had worse rug burn before. Much worse.”

“I know, which means I know better than to have sex on the carpet.” He kisses your forehead and sweeps a thumb across your cheek. “I shouldn’t have gotten so caught up, I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you insist. “Being fucked into the carpet never felt so good.”

Felix laughs quietly, deeply. “It was definitely worth the wait. I haven’t come twice in a row like that in a while.” His sigh is exhausted but pleased; his hug is weak but loving.

After a moment of recovery, he helps you stand and urges you to use the bathroom and change into something comfortable, and you agree on the condition he does the same.

Before you dress, he peppers sweet kisses along your lightly scraped skin and helps you apply lotion over it. He also insists that you drink at least half a glass of water to rehydrate yourself before you both return to the living room so you can finally show him what the two of you have been celebrating in the first place. He massages the back of your neck soothingly as you walk side by side.

“Alright, now I’m actually really proud of this, but you still need to be honest with me, okay?” you preface. Without waiting for him to respond, you whip the sheet covering the easel away with a flourish.

The moment it is revealed, Felix eyes dart over the portrait in patternless directions. You want to see inside that pretty head of his to know every thought going through his mind while he examines your depiction of him, but you can’t, so you keep your eyes trained on his pensive face and wait quietly for him to share whatever feedback he chooses.

“Y/N,” he eventually begins. You can’t tell if the hush in his tone is because he is awed or appalled.

“Yes?”

Felix turns to look you in the eye. “How do you keep outdoing yourself?”

A note of laughter pops past your lips, and the nervousness in it surprises you. “Well, you know what they say about practice. Does that mean you like it?”

“Are you kid— I love it! I don’t even know where to begin! The detail, Y/N! It’s so—” He faces his two-dimensional self again and waves his hand through the air in front of the canvas in a gesture you have no idea how to interpret. Then he extends a single finger toward the bottom edge of the canvas. “Like right here. The shadowing is so good. And the way you did the lighting here...” He lifts his finger higher to point at his painted cheekbones. “You did my freckles so well, I wouldn’t even be surprised if you captured literally every single one of them. It’s, like, scary good. And I don’t know if this is technically a critique towards the realism, but I don’t think my hair has ever actually looked this good in real life.”

You laugh louder, more happily. “I do think I did a pretty good job, but your real life self is way better than this, doll. Trust me.” You tuck a lock of hair behind his ear, and he brings his face back around to look at you again.

“I don’t even know what else to say without sounding dumb about it,” he tells you. It is not often he sounds bashful around you anymore, but he does now. “I’ll have to keep processing it. But in my unprofessional opinion, to my untrained, non-artistic eye, I’d say this is certifiably amazing work, sweetheart.”

You touch his cheek. “As long as you don’t feel like leaving me over it, you don’t have to say anything else.”

Felix takes your other hand and kisses the center of your palm, then each of your fingertips separately, then the ring between your knuckles.

Tomorrow, you’ll ask him for the story of how he happened to have it in his pocket tonight. Saturday, when Jisung sees it on your finger, you’ll ask his advice on how you should do your nails for the wedding (though you’ll probably end up having them done by your groom anyway). Next week, you’ll ask Felix what time of year he has in mind for the ceremony, or if he even wants to make a big pageantry of it. The week after that, you’ll either start looking into wedding venues or making an appointment with City Hall.

And years from now, when your children ask you about the portrait you painted of their father, you’ll tell them you did it because he was always your biggest supporter, and you’ll be reminded just how in love the two of you were tonight.

---

if you enjoyed, please consider re-blogging and/or leaving me some feedback. take care! ♡

#felix smut #lee felix smut #stray kids smut #skz smut #felix x reader #lee felix x reader #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #the ways we love #daizymax

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hopelesslyromanticshark · 18 days

Note

LOML BABY CUTIE PIE SNOOKUMS 💕🦋

SO THAT YOUR SEXY LIL BRAIN DOESN'T FORGET :

The lover boys ( Percy, Leo, Jason, Conner, Luke , Frank) overhearing reader talking about them and afterwards realising that reader is THE ONE for them

Mhuaw Mhuaw 💋

⋆⭒˚.⋆ can't have a conversation if it's not all about you! hcs

content: hcs for leo valdez, frank zhang, luke castellan, percy jackson & jason grace warning: some language but that's it!! author's note: ta daaaaa! i like doing matching stories to one's ive already written!! and love love love how these match the other group hcs i did, probs gonna put it as a part two on the masterlist even tho i kinda isn't, ya know??? whatever it's my blog lmao-

𝜗𝜚 leo valdez

leo had no shame

originally, he had no intentions of eavesdropping

but then he heard you talking as he passed by the window of your cabin and couldn't help but stand nearby

and, boy, was he glad that he did

his smile was a mile wide as he heard you talk so passionately about him

that's right, you've been yapping away about leo for at least an hour

"and you should see the way he looks at me when he makes me laugh. it's just- it's just this wide smile and he can't seem to take his eyes off me."

leo blushed slightly at that comment, completely unaware that you had caught onto that look, the one he only reserved for you

"and he's the sweetest, always looking out for me. oh! and the gifts are never ending and he's the best cuddler i've like ever met. and, so, so funny."

leo was certain he was short circuiting, the wires of his heart fraying and twisting in unnatural ways. in ways that would make his mechanic father disappointed

"you must really love him," one of your siblings mused and leo waited with baited breath, leaning slightly closer to the window to hear you better

"more than i could put into words. i'm...i'm lucky the fates gave him to me - more than lucky."

that was the day leo started working on your engagement ring, determined to never spend another day without you by his side

𝜗𝜚 frank zhang

frank was a good boy, be it either his roman bones or his canadian heritage, he made sure to always follow rules and respect peoples privacy

...except for today

he allowed himself this exception as he stood in one of the many hallways new rome had to offer, leaning against the way as he heard your voice drift through the corridor

you couldn't have been more than a few yards away, your voice easily carrying to frank's ears

"he gives the best hugs!"

"bear hugs?" your friend laughed and frank's lips twitched upwards at the comment

"shut up! he's sweet too! so, so sweet! and gentle. for a son of mars, he holds me so softly."

frank stood a little taller at the comments, pride filling his body in a way it never has before

sure, lots of people have told him similar things, but something about it coming from you left the boy reeling with pride

"cmon, be honest. is he, ya know, the one?" your friend whispered but frank still heard it

he paled at the connotation, his fingers crossed as he counted the seconds in between your response.

"honestly? he's the other half of my soul. we're tied together and he's not getting rid of me anytime soon."

that afternoon, frank signed up for an wedding magazine subscription, wanting to keep up to date on the wedding scene, as he figured it would become important to him and you in the near future

𝜗𝜚 luke castellan

luke had taken a break from practice with his sword, laying on the ground all sweaty and grimy

his water bottle had long since been emptied but he was far too tired to get up and refill it

after a few minutes of rest, he'd finally decided the water would be worth the pain of his taunt muscles

as he made his way to the water fountain, he paused as his eyes caught sight of you and a wood nymph talking

he smirked to himself, moving closer with the full intentions of stealing a kiss but he paused as your words started to reach his ears

he then hid behind a tree, only peeking out every now and then when he knew you weren't looking

"gods, i've never met a guy so romantic. did i tell you that he stole all of my favorite bags of chips from the camp store? and you wanna know why? mind you, this is a direct quote, he said 'because no one but my girl deserves this chips to grace her lips.' like...bro."

the wood nymph cooed, the flowers in her hair brightening in color at the romantic thoughts

in fact, the red tulips were matching the shade of luke's cheeks pretty well

and that's quite the feat as the boy wasn't a big blusher

"and watching him train will always leave me drooling. you hear that olivia rodrigo leaked song, prison for life?? like, that's literally him!! he's so protective but in a good way, ya know??"

luke shook his head despite knowing the fact you couldn't see him

you've brought that song up so many times since you heard it, telling luke that it always reminded you of him

and luke would never admit it, but he listened to the song on his own time

and he couldn't help but agree with you

he'd kill for you and you didn't even need to ask him to

he'd just do it because you were worth any consequence he'd face after

"so, you love him?" the wood nymph questioned eagerly

and luke was just as eager to hear the answer

"...i'd kill for him, too. i'd do anything to keep him close, hurt anyone. hell, i'd tear down olympus for that boy."

and that you would, eventually.

all with a shiny ring on your finger, put there by the boy who'd lost his way

and you were more than happy to get lost with him, too, as long as it meant his hand in yours

𝜗𝜚 percy jackson

percy knew better than to listen to rumors

especially from sea flora and fauna

but, when the shark swam up to him with naiads in tow, percy couldn't help but listen

"lord! lord! you'll never believe what we just heard!" the shark cried, swimming circles around percy in his excitement

"go on," percy encouraged, briefly passing his hand over the shark's fin before the shark was mentally gasping in a big breath to do a long ramble

"okay okay okay! so, your lady in waiting had been talking with a few of the river naiads up stream. and she was talking about you, my lord!"

percy was silently waiting for the new information to come

he was well aware of the fact that you struggled to have conversations that didn't revolve around him

and he would know as he struggled with a similar issue when it came to you

"and she was talking about your hair and your eyes and your smile! oh, and she also mentioned that she thought you were the funniest boy she'd ever met, my lord! then she was talking about how good you looked in some shirt the other day-"

"wait, wait, which shirt??? did she say, like, a color or something??" percy cut in, leaning forwards as this information was important to him

"umm, i think she said navy blue?"

"yes! alright, go on," percy cheered, making a mental note to wear that shirt more

anything to keep her eyes on him

not that he had to try super hard but still

"and she talked about rings! ones made of diamonds or something!! oh, and your mother being at some ceremony and something about father's giving away their daughters?? and white dresses. does she like white dresses? the story get's a little confusing here, i'll admit, my lord."

percy could have drown right then and there from excitement

you were talking about weddings while talking about percy

he took that as a good sign

and he'd go home later that summer and shyly ask his mother to walk him through the process of getting married

for, uh, unrelated reasons, of course

𝜗𝜚 jason grace

jason was a nervous fella, not one to eavesdrop or listen to conversations that didn't involve him

nonetheless, he couldn't seem to pull himself from the cracked doorway

every alarm was ringing in his roman mind, telling him that it was wrong and that he shouldn't be listening in on your conversation

but you were saying such lovely things!

"he treats me like im gold, like im something to be valued and taken care of. gods, he's so good to me."

it was like a little benchmark report on how he was as a boyfriend

and you know this guy loves reports and numbers and spreadsheets lmao

pros and cons list's best friend

but at the moment, you were struggling to list even a single con

"and he's such a gentleman. i don't think i've touched a door handle the whole time that we've been dating. or opened my car door, let alone drove."

jason smirked, pride oozing from him at the comments

he worked hard to make sure that you never saw another cloudy day in your life and he couldn't help but be a little proud that you took notice of those things

"what would you do if he asked you to marry him right now?" your sibling asked, with a wiggle of their eyebrows and a taunt in their voice

jason's muscles tightened at the comment and they jolted to run off, but his need to know kept him right where he was

"i'd say yes without a second of hesitation. i'm sure we've been married in past lives and we will be in future ones. so why delay the inevitable?"

jason was shocked, a rare feeling for the son of jupiter

but, once he recovered, he went running to piper, desperately asking her what the best way to find out your ring size would be

and not for just any finger, if you know what i mean.

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maximumkillshot · 6 months

Text

I Can't Lose You-Part 2

Warnings: Ok...Cursing, pain,(IF YOU WANT IT TO BE KEPT A SURPRISE QUICK SHIELD YOUR EYES!!),medical emergency, Emergency medical procedures, mentions of blood, anger outburts, a lot of pain, DID I MENTION PAIN?!, mentions of panic attacks I believe.

Pairing: BangchanxReader

Characters: All of the Stray Kids, Reader

A/N: Stay family y'all came in droves, I've had so much fun writing for SKZ so far and whatever you guys want to see, send it in an ask and I'll see when I can get to it, if the muses allow. There will be a Stray Kids Masterlist soon. I would always appreciate any feedback! And if you like Supernatural as well here's my masterlist!

Overall Masterlist- Click Here

I Can't Lose You Masterlist-Click Here

ALL WORK IS UNDER ME AND MY BLOG. DO NOT TRY TO REPUBLISH OR STEAL MY WORK, AS THAT IS COPYRIGHTED UNDER ME AND IS CONSIDERED COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT WHICH IS A PUNISHABLE OFFENSE.

ANY WORK THAT YOU SEE ON OTHER SITES THAT ARE MY WORKS PLEASE NOTIFY ME IMMEDIATELY.

Where we left off:

“Bin” Chan tried to say something but Changbin cut him off.

“NO! YOU DON’T GET A SAY HERE, CHRIS! YOU FUCKED UP ROYALLY AND NOW YOU DESTROYED YOUR FAMILY!” Bin was visibly shaking with rage as he walked up to Chan. Tears were starting to form in his eyes.

LeeKnow looked visibly confused as he looked to Bin, “What are you talking about?”

Bin threw the content of the card at Chan’s feet.

Chan looked at what the card had in it, it was unmistakable.

Bin sounded broken as he responded, “Y/N is pregnant.”.

NOW:

Changbin's blood was boiling and yet he felt like collapsing. His lip twitched as he yelled, “You promised you’d protect her! That you’d do NOTHING to hurt her!”

Felix stared at Changbin. He has never seen him like this. He could see the conflict. Stuck between the need to comfort and protect you and the want and need to beat the pulp out of Chris.

He continued, his voice cracking,his brow knitted and lips twitching as he said, “ I told you that I love her, that you better take care of her. And you said that you’d NEVER hurt her.” His anger was winning as he shouted, “You didn’t just hurt her, you DESTROYED HER and ALL CHANCES of that child having a life where their mom & dad are still together!”

He couldn’t decide whether to say it gently or smack him with the truth as he saw the honest ramifications of his friend’s actions. He chose the latter, “And let’s be honest, Chan. That’s if the baby makes it through this! With the amount of pain that Y/N/N feels right now. Not to mention that she put in months upon months of work planning YOUR anniversary celebration only to be stood up. Only to come home to see HER HUSBAND & HER BEST FRIEND in the bed that she sleeps in every night, having sex & talking about how INADEQUATE she is!”

Chan picked up the sonogram and said “I’ve got to fix this.”

Bin huffed, “There’s no fixing this Chris. She doesn’t tolerate assholes like you. You cheated and threw everything away! Now, I am going to take her to a hospital to check on the baby, YOU are going to stay the FUCK away from her! Is that clear?!”

While Bin was chewing Chris out, Han was packing everything he could think of. He had a feeling but he couldn’t put a name to it. Being the youngest in his family, he never really knew what being protective felt like. For some reason, from the second you came stumbling out of that room, he only had one objective, keep you safe. The drive to protect you so instinctual it wasn’t even a thought in his brain as much as it was an impulse.

Maybe it was that you both think so similarly. You had met the boys because of a photoshoot in New York. You were a photographer that was hired to do some promotional shots of them in the bustling Times Square.

Han had a panic attack due to the massive amount of people and you took him aside and grounded him, got him to calm down and breathe. He didn’t know at the time but you yourself have extreme social anxiety and anxiety overall. That was when you and Han exchanged numbers. “Rain or shine, I’m here for you always,” you told him after the shoot was done.

That was when Han told Chris why he was even able to complete the shoot and Chris really liked your shots, so he got your number as well. That eventually led to the boys begging you to become their personal photographer full time. Then you moved to South Korea to work with them, because taking a plane every few weeks was just too much.

Han was wondering how such a beautiful beginning ended up like this. How something so horrible could happen to someone so rare, talented, and sweet. When he was done packing, he ran to the car with 3 overnight bags, yours, Han’s, and Bin’s. He knows that they aren’t coming back for a while, knowing that you’ll need support more than anything.

Not to mention Han can’t even look at Chan right now. Too many questions race through his head, but one look at you and all of it disappears, his Noona needs him. His niece or nephew needs him. That’s what matters.

Han told Innah to go back inside and tell Bin that you’re ready to go.

Bin shoved Chan out of the way and left the house. He was expecting you to be in the front seat but you were actually in the back with Hannie. You were crying on his shoulder as he tried to talk you through your deep breathing exercises. When you finally made it to the hospital, you were terrified.

You had tried to stay as calm as possible for the baby but seeing what you saw, realizing what he did & what you gave up for him. Then the reality of him doing this… and saying those things about you, it was all too much.

Now that you were registered, Han and Bin had time to register the heartbreak they felt for you. They were completely in the dark about all of it. Probably because they would’ve beaten the crap out of Chan for even contemplating doing that to you, let alone following through with it. You are so sweet, kind, beautiful, and intelligent, all the members admired you so much. So, to see Chris doing this. It’s no wonder why they were seeing red right now.

But they needed to put that anger aside and check on the baby and yourself. The wait was nerve-racking, especially at almost 2 hours staring at a clock and waiting.

Bin only had time to think, and think he did. He couldn’t stop thinking about how unfair it was for you, how he would’ve never dreamed of cheating on you. He would’ve spoiled you and made love to you every single day. He would’ve cried and spun you around seeing that positive pregnancy test. It made his heart hurt at the fact that you didn’t experience that.

His anger was quickly replaced with regret. He regretted not telling you his feelings. He regretted letting Chan anywhere near you. He also regretted the pang of hope in his heart at the possibility of having a chance with you. Thinking momentarily that it was wrong to even hope that you don’t reconcile, afterall you’re married, why put such negative thoughts into the universe, let alone feel hope at that thought? It was something he couldn’t help.

If anything, in his mind, he’d love to raise this baby with you and that truly scared him. Even more than the possibility of Chan fixing things. That meant that he was ready to sacrifice everything for you. And if he were to be honest with himself, he would’ve recognized that’s always been the case.

Meanwhile, Chan had been blowing up Han and Bin’s phones non-stop, wanting updates, if his wife and child were okay. Are there any signs of stress? It got to a point that Bin excused himself just to personally tell him to fuck off.

“What do you want?” Bin snapped.

“I want to know how my wife and child are.” Chan sounded terrified, but Bin couldn't care less, after all, it was his fault any of this happened. As a matter of fact, it only made his anger worse. Hearing him say, my wife and child. Like you were something to be owned.

“You lost the privilege of calling her that, Chris.”

“I made a mistake, Bin. A mistake that I want to take back so please tell me where she is.” Bin could feel the anger rolling off of himself. This isn’t a mistake. A mistake is leaving the oven on, or forgetting your wallet at home.

There are so many steps before having sex, the courting, taking every layer of clothing off. At the very least when going out 5 pieces of clothing need to come off. That’s just on him, not to mention she still has to undress. Then there’s getting into the bed,the foreplay, the kissing, the teasing, prepping her, then you have to get over her. All of this is before penetration is even in the mix.

All of these chances to stop, look at a photo of his gorgeous wife and realize that everything Chris could possibly want, he already has. All of this is racing in Bin’s head as his blood continues to boil.

“We are still trying to calm her down and you think that I am going to let you anywhere near her? You’re out of your fucking mind.” Bin spat at him. “Every time you call, she starts to sob, you know why? Because she knows that the person she trusted, that she loved, that very same person is the same one that degraded, disrespected, and destroyed not only her but her child’s life. He also won’t get the FUCKING HINT that she needs to focus on HERSELF and HER CHILD! You are only making it worse.”

Bin’s voice was so loud that every time the doors separating himself from you were even slightly ajar, you could hear Bin chewing Chan out.

“Bin, you have every right to be angry…” It was then that Bin could hear the phone being snatched and Minho was on the other end.

“We told him NOT TO CALL AND TO LEAVE HER ALONE! Two simple instructions Chan! You’re only going to stress her out more! You’ve done enough! Hey Changbin-ah, sorry. I’m going to call you on my phone and I’m taking his phone away now.”

“Thank you,” it was all he could say. At least he was getting some form of reprimand, given Bin would’ve loved to beat the crap out of him. But his thought was that Chris being verbally chewed out would have to do for now.

A few seconds later Bin’s phone rang, “Hey”.

“Hey, how’re you doing?” Minho asked, “And Hannie?”

Bin’s face fell as he looked back at the equivalent of his younger brother being so strong for you.

“We are holding on. It’s hard not to cry with her, hyung.” Bin exhaled as he paced.

“Chan shut the fuck up! You’re the whole reason why she’s in this mess so shut it and sit down!” he heard Minho barking at Chan.

At that point, Bin heard a blood-chilling scream, and he shouted your name. When he busted through the doors he found you gripping your stomach. Your gray sweatpants now taking a bright red hue.

“Bin? Changbin-ah!” he heard Minho but he couldn’t answer. His body was on autopilot as he ran to you.

You screamed for him, “Binnie..no no!” He handed the phone to Han as he started to yell for help.

You held onto his hand as if he was your lifeline. It felt like something was ripping apart your insides, worse than any period that you have ever had.

Han put his ear to the phone once he registered that Minho was screaming on the other end of the line, “Minho.” Han was near tears. He knew exactly what this meant.

“Hannie what’s happening?” the alert in Minho’s voice was haunting. Somewhere in his mind he was hoping to hear “False alarm, everything’s fine!” What he actually heard gave him goosebumps as his heart dropped.

“I’ve gotta go.” That was all Han said as he hung up and went to you.

“Hannie! No, no the baby Hannie.” She clutched onto him, praying, begging. Meanwhile, Bin tried to get help. She kept staring at her lap and Han tilted her head up.

“Focus on me, Y/N look at me, okay, keep breathing.” Han kept his voice even as he took his jacket off and put it on your lap, to block your view. “You just need to look at me and breathe.”

You clutched your stomach harder as you heard Bin arguing with the staff and the only thing Han heard was “Please wait.”

Han is not confrontational, but seeing you like this, he screamed “We can’t wait, she's bleeding and pregnant!” Han checked under the jacket, what was a patch of red was now dominating the gray… something was wrong. He looked at your face to find the color draining. He screamed to Bin, “Bin she’s bleeding out!”

Changbin ran to you and looked. He immediately asked you if you could walk. The minute you shook your head he gave Han the jacket and scooped you up. Now that he picked you up he noticed that you lost all rigidity in your body, you couldn’t even wrap your arms around his neck. When he looked down at you, your eyelids were fluttering as your free arm dangled.

Before this, he thought he knew what fear was… the sense of dread that filled him as he held you, that was fear. It felt as if he was the only person in the world who knew that the world was going to end. His world was going to end if you…

“Han get the door,” Bin ordered as he walked to the door that led to the patient beds, nurses, and doctors. As soon as the door opened Bin went through.

Bin shouted as loud as he could, “I have a pregnant woman that’s bleeding out. Can we get some help here?!”

Immediately 3 nurses rushed to Bin and led him to a bed. “Y/N stay awake c’mon stay up,” He kept trying to keep you up the entire way to the gurney.

He didn’t notice it but blood was being trailed behind him. The only one who seemingly noticed was Han.

As soon as Bin laid you on the gurney the nurses immediately started cutting off your pants while a doctor asked for a summation of what happened, your name, and anything else Han or Bin may have known.

Bin immediately gave the doctor any information that he could find useful. You held onto Han and Bin with whatever strength you had. The nurses asked Han to move so they could get an IV in and he repositioned himself at your head to pet your hair back. The doctor draped a privacy sheet over your legs so that you could feel a little more comfortable.

A few seconds into the exam the doctor yelled “Get anesthesia down here now! We need an epidural.” He looked at one of the nurses and said, “Prep for a D&C”. Then he said, “Get a vial for blood type testing and rush it, a transfusion set ready, IV open wide,” to everyone else in the room, the nurses rushed around them and the doctor said, “Ok Y/N can you hear me?”

You nodded, then screamed as your body involuntarily bore down.

Both Han and Bin tried to comfort you as much as they could.

The doctor said, “There is going to be a lot going on here in a few minutes okay? You’re going to get a nerve block because what’s going to happen is going to be uncomfortable.”

You looked at Bin and Han and begged them to stay. Both of them looked at the doctor and said that whatever was happening, they weren't leaving. The doctor could see that you really needed them and as long as they were not in the way, it didn’t matter whether they were here or not.

After the nerve block and the procedure, the doctor cleaned you up and draped a warm blanket over you, while the nurses hooked up a transfusion and closely monitored you. The doctor asked for Bin in the hall while Han went right back to your hand without the IV in it, so he could hold it properly.

Bin tried to ignore it during the procedure but the look that the doctor had on his face when he was doing the preliminary exam was haunting. Whatever he was called out here for… it wasn’t good.

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