#as the world fucking burns around us all i get reminders all the time that the loudest&stupidest types of idiot motherfuckers
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—THE WEIGHT OF BLOOD.
pairing: outlaw!farmer!141 x fem!reader
series masterlist taglist (closed.) next
contains: pov change, graphic violence, gore, reader’s husband insults her, mentions + use of knife in this chapter, reader is called a whore, implications of kidnapping, drugs.
summary: slippery floors.
wc: 4.7k
a/n: oh…
You always felt as if you were walking on eggshells with him.
It’s how you used to feel with him. When the sun was barely shining on your life and peppering your face with light, guilty, kisses.
Now that the sun is hidden by the horizon, no longer are the kisses light and guilt ridden, but they are harsh and forceful. No more are the rays hitting your skin with a warm embrace, but its replaced with a chill so unforgiving it’s like a whip against your skin.
No longer are the eggshells digging into your skin, because glass shards are piercing into your feet, digging into the flesh and staying there so that every time your once delicate, soft feet hit the floor, a wave of pain and realization washes over you.
Every step is a reminder; you’re never going to be free of him.
You let out a shaky breath and wince at your husband’s booming voice. Pointing fingers and yelling curses.
Johnny and Simon are doing little to nothing to stop him, in fact, they seem to be holding back.
Why?
Why are they holding back when your husband, James Fitzroy, is insulting their mothers? Their sisters, brothers? Them?
“We didnae do nothin’ to ye,” Johnny starts, standing in front of Simon when James gets too close for his liking. “So back the hell off.”
James scoffs with a sick smile on his face. “You didn’t do anything to me?” He spits. “Of course not, you just came into my house, and fucked my wife, is that it? Hm? Had your fill already?” He taunts, his hair flying wild.
You always loved his hair. His golden, rich dark hair, suggestive of the precious metal, mimics the beauty and luxury of his picture perfect world; compared to you however, your soul hides what’s really behind closed doors.
You shake your head to rid your mind of those thoughts. He’s not shining gold anymore, the secrets in this house are slowly coming to light. He resembles something that seems kind, but hurts you when you actually expect it, when you know it can hurt you. Like the sun.
“We didn’t do anythin’ to your wife.” Simon defends. He steps forward so he’s now side by side next to Johnny, the kitchen looking too small for them. “We just came here to deliver the meat she ordered, is all.”
“Oh really?” James says. He shoves an accusing finger in Simons shoulder.
He’s going to hurt them. He’s going to hurt them and you’re just standing there.
Like the pliant little housewife he made you to be.
What are you doing just standing there?
When you let the heavy coat drop from your arms onto the floor and you take a singular step in their direction, you can feel the glass digging deeper into your skin.
Every step is a reminder.
As you near your husband, you shudder. His wrath is like a toxic air that’s slowly killing you from the inside out. Taking and taking until there’s nothing left of you to take.
You reach your James, scared to meet the questioning gazes of Johnny and Simon, and reach a trembling hand to touch his shoulder. “James—”
He whips his body around to face you. You can see, feel, his anger as it burns everything it touches. Hungry for more. He grabs your outstretched hand and squeezes. Ignoring the whimpers of pain that fall from your lips and the tears that blur your vision and fall down to meet at your chin.
“You.” He says it with so much, loathe dripping from his voice, painting his lips, his chin, neck, black with anger.
“You fucking whore, playing around with these, little boys, getting their dicks wet while I slave away at work and provide for you?”
His face is too close. So close, you can smell the stink of alcohol on his breath, recoil as you feel the spit flying out of his mouth land on your face. You feel your tears falling fatter and faster as you see the hickeys and lipstick prints on his neck.
“You let go of ‘er—”
Your free hand feels like lead as you raise it to bring it down with such force it leaves a red mark on his face the moment your skin touches his, his face forced to the side, facing the wall.
You feel your soul getting doused in gasoline and set on fire.
You see James’s body turning rigid and stiff as his face turns a canvas of anger.
You blink away your tears.
He stiffens as if he endures the horrors you have to watch him do at night. He stiffens as if his body is constantly being clawed, dragged, down by hands that burn. He stiffens as if he has glass stuck in the soles of his feet, spilling his blood onto the floor and staining the wood, the walls, you. You, you, you.
He turns his head back to its original position to at you, but he’s stopped. Stopped by a scared hand deep his hair wrenching back so his body topples to the floor with a reverberating thud. You almost fall with him with his tight grip on your wrist, but you feel Johnny’s hand pluck yours out of his and cradle it, cradle you, to his chest.
But you can’t focus. You see your vision blurring and a ringing, your soul screaming, in your ears is blocking out the noise of Simon’s fists connecting with James’s face.
You watch with horror gleaming in your eyes as you see your husband’s face and body grow more and more unrecognizable by the second.
Why are you just standing there?
“Get—” Simon’s fist interrupts his slurred cries. “—th’ fuck off ‘f me you d’rty bast’rd . . .”
Your husband is getting beaten, and you’re standing in the arms of another? A stranger?
Simon’s eyes. They’re burnt a charcoal black and only seemed to be getting darker by each blow he landed on your husband’s face. It scares you to no end.
“You stain your wife’s skin with that mouth?” A sharp sound, a slap echos throughout the room. Right where your hand hit his face. Right where your hand can be seen on his face as a bright red gone darker by Simon’s force.
Your eyes catch a gleam in the light, a gleam of something sharp, of something used to kill.
A pocket knife.
James struggles to fully pull it out of his pocket but when he does, he grips it with a shaking hand and stabs blindly at Simon’s arm.
You suck in a breath and can only watch as silence consumes the room with Johnnys arms tightening around you.
He didn’t even flinch as the knife was forced into his skin, didn’t even react as he gripped the handle and yanked the knife out of his arm, his blood following the knife like a lost dog before splattering on the ground like abstract art.
Noises of pain and fear escape the opened mouth of your husband, noises that you’ve never heard him make. Only noises of power and rage.
Simon rises to his full height and takes a handful of James’s hair, dragging him up with him add dropping the knife on the floor
“Simon—” You beg, but it’s too late. With the grip Simon has on James’s hair, he pulls his arm back and swings it, swings James, towards the kitchen counter at full force.
His head ricochets off of the counter and he lands back on the floor, right in front of your shaking form.
He lays there sideways and still as the long gash running straight across his forehead leaks blood onto his clothes and floor at a rapid pace. You stare at it as the blood slowly runs towards you.
You’re staring at your husband’s bleeding body.
Simon grabs James’s pant leg, pants that you bought for him, and yanks his body towards him to resume what he hadn’t finished.
When the blows continue, you find yourself wincing at each one, unconsciously sinking deeper into Johnny’s warm body.
A man you just met that day is beating the life out of your husband.
You feel like cold water is raining down on your body.
“Stop—” Your cry escapes your lips broken. “stop, please! Simon please—you’re hurting him!”
You try to push Johnny off of you, try to yank your limbs out of his strong grip but that’s just it. His strong grip is like a snake that captured its prey, rolling its body around it and holding onto it until it dies, until it can’t feel anymore, until you can’t breathe anymore.
“Let me go—Johnny let me go!”
He shushes your cries and doesn’t even bat an eye when you turn to bang your fists on his chest and run your nails down his skin. He just cradles your head to his chest right where his heart is so you can hear his heartbeat and be soothed.
But how can you be soothed when—
“Simon.” You hear him say. “That’s enough.”
Like changing tides; Johnny’s voice sweeps into his mind and altered his landscape of emotions. Changing from the beast in a story to a soft bear.
A bear with blood dripping from its mouth.
Simon stops the torture that he inflicted upon your husband and keeps his back turned to you and Johnny as he stands. Blood, James’s blood, dripping from his clenched fists and escaping into the crevices in your tile floor.
He turns at the waist to you and Johnny. You, who’s still struggling to escape his arms, you whose tears are never ending on your damp cheeks, you who’s watching your husband struggle to breathe, blood exiting his mouth in bubbles, popping and splattering the red mess everywhere.
And Johnny, who watched with a satisfied smile growing on his face.
Bells were ringing in your ears, stars were dotting your vision, your hands were shaking, you can’t breathe. “James . .?” You whisper. Your voice coming out so broken that Johnny almost felt sorry.
He still has his arms around you, still feels your beating heart pound against the cage around it, against his chest, still feels the sting of the bruises and scratches you left on him, the latter leaving blood trailing down his arms, dripping and dripping until they bleed into your dress, bleed into you. He still feels, you.
“What . . . No . . . no, no!” Your wail runs deep and escapes raw from your soul. You wail and it breaks Johnny’s heart, breaks it into tiny pieces scattered all around this cruel world you all live in. This world filled with cruel people.
“You killed him! You killed him!” You struggle, and Johnny grunts out curses as you elbow his stomach, slipping in blood and failing to the floor, your dress pooling at your feet, shaking in the blood staining the floor and dying the front of your once blue dress red. You fall right in front of Simon. Right in front of your husband’s still warm body. Still bleeding. Still breathing.
You burn the part of you that feels disappointed in that fact.
“James,” You whisper, cradling his face, his broken face, his face that is broken and bleeding, in your hands. You know it will haunt you for life. “Please, please, wake up. . . wake up . . .”
Blood was everywhere.
Your cries are silent except for the horror filled gasps you let out in between breaths. Your hands shake and you feel as if the coldest of waters were dumped on you. Hoping there would want you up from this dream, this nightmare.
“Why . . ? Why did you do this . . ?”
Your face is drenched in your tears running down your face, some fleeing into your mouth, making you taste your own sweet nectar tears. A nectar that is sticky and leaves a bitter rather than sweet taste in your mouth, a nectar that clings to things that aren’t theirs and never lets go. A nectar like Simon and Johnny.
“He was hurtin’ ye lass,” Johnny says. “We couldnae let ‘im hurt ye like tha’” He walks towards you, the squelch sound coming from his boots walking on blood make you flinch and cover your mouth in terror with your shaking hands, spreading blood, your husband’s blood, all over your tear stained cheeks.
Johnny squats down next to you, his thighs brushing over yours as he watches you. Watches you process that your husband might as well be dead to you, and he’s not coming back no matter how hard you pray.
You feel Johnnys hand, his warm hand, his soft hand, his dry hand, guide your face to lock your eyes with his.
“Ye know we had to do tha’.” He says. His eyes aren’t bright anymore. Now they’re dark waves at night. Luring innocents into its waters and taking, drowning, keeping. “Right, love?”
Your eyes shift back to James’s body in your peripheral, still feeling the cold gaze of the two men on your face.
His eyes are swollen shut; but if they were open, you could imagine they’d be looking at you, piercing you with that gaze you used to love so much, The gaze you find yourself missing; back when things were good, not burnt and soaked in blood.
His skin is pale. It turns as white as the pure clouds that once blocked the heat of the sun. But now the clouds are dark, they’re dark and they obscure the warmth of the sun to let the cold chill of death sink its claws into the fertile earth.
His chest barely rises with the painful breaths he’s taking.
He’s still alive.
Your shaking eyes peel away from James and they lock with Johnnys’ again.
And you know, with a heavy and pained heart, that he can see the tiny part of you that agrees with him.
You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, your eyes burned and your head is pounding. All you can hear is ringing. Ringing, screaming, crying, all the same to you in this moment.
You hear someone call your name, you feel a wet hand touch your shoulder, you feel something sharp sink into the fragile skin of your neck.
You feel the cold shadow of darkness embrace you.
Your body feels heavy.
Heavy with guilt, fear, and an overwhelming sadness.
Heavy with whatever drug was forced into you.
In your milky haze, your eyes open slightly and the sun burns your eyes even through the thick curtains blocking it.
You think they’re curtains. They could very well be something else; but they move with such a fluidity in them that you can’t think otherwise.
This room you’re in moves as if it’s a vehicle on a bumpy road, your ears pick up the sound of an animal trotting on the rough road.
Someone moves, blocking the shining sun with their body as they move to learn towards you.
“Sh, Bonnie lass.” A voice coos at you, brushing their—his—hand over your temple to gently move the hair that rested there. “Yer alrigh’, we’re gonnae get ye someplace safe.”
When you let out a hoarse moan in protest to his action, another hand, a bigger hand, pets your hair and plants a chaste kiss on your sweating forehead.
You let out a dry cry and try to move your head in another direction, any direction, but the poison burning your veins and warming your skin is making you a limp doll.
Your lips are cracked and your throat is raw. When you try to speak, the sentence gets lost on the way out of your mouth and only one word escapes.
“. . . home . . .”
The soft voice, the first voice, shushes you again, moving your body and placing it sideways in a laying position so your head rests on his lap and your legs dangle on something else. Someone else.
“It’s gonnae be okay hen, don’ worry that pretty head. We’ll get ye home safe with us.”
You last see the curtains move after going over a particular bump in the road, revealing dancing trees and a large sign; though you only see the last part of it before your body succumbs to sleep:
—POPULATION: TWO HUNDRED SEVENTEEN.
In the murky shadows of the dimly illuminated room, wisps of smoke curled and danced around the man seated amidst the gloom like a dragon.
With each inhale, the ember of the cigar flared, casting fleeting glimpses of their features into the obscurity.
The apple of his cheeks, his beard shining auburn, his eyes that reflected an angry sea.
“She sleepin’?” He asks into the shadows. His voice is rough and deep, his words escape him in a cloud of smoke as dark as his eyes.
“Yes. Brought ‘er in an hour or so ago. A ripe peach she is.” The shadow answers, stepping away from the window that covered an entire wall adjacent to the grand desk. The shadow walks the length of the room to stand in front of the desk, he picks up a random trinket from the desk and starts twirling it between his fingers repeatedly.
“And the husband? Tell me the bastards’ gone.”
The smell of smoke and ash covered the room. But nothing could cover the smell of blood coating the shadows fingers, staining the trinket, the knife, in his hand.
“He’ll never hurt her again.”
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©miwsolovely
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🦋
#i am reminded all the time that someone wanting to fuck me has absolutely no reflection on whether or not they like me at all#or ESP whether or not they fucking respect me or anything about me lmao. call it a consequence of the work.#&yet as much as it damaged+stunted my self worth+esteem+personal view of myself i wouldnt trade the reminders for anything lmao.#as the world fucking burns around us all i get reminders all the time that the loudest&stupidest types of idiot motherfuckers#cant stand by a single one of their own beliefs in the long run lmao. like your bigotry doesnt extend to where youd put your dick.#OR what youre willing to say&pretend to get into the pants of someone who you literally could not even pay to spit on you.#meanwhile all cops&most uniformed men should prob be grateful the thought of them breathing my air makes me fucking sick#bc otherwise i would be finding LOTS of new+creative ways to work out my more horrifying impulses.#unfortunately as it turns out even the idea of their blood on my shoes makes my lip curl. 🤷🏽♀️#if i keep having to interact w idiots however i might get desensitized enough to the ick of it all to play.
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MISSING A DATE . they forget about a big date with you and realize it too late
with deku + bakugou (in their pro-hero era)
one thing about him is that he always tried his absolute best to make time for you amid his busy schedule. you understood that you weren't the only one that demanded his attention due to his work and were okay with that. as long as you still got your 'me-time' with him, where he blocked out the world and focused on you and only you, you couldn't ask for a more perfect relationship.
but this was your last straw. you had forgiven the late nights, the last-minute cancellations—gotten used to being alone in your luxurious apartment, which only reminded you of the one thing you were missing.
you had planned this date for months. a set time where you both blocked off time that night to just be with each other in a word that tried everything to keep you apart.
"remember tonight, baby." you chirped as you kissed him goodbye that morning.
he hummed and gave you a tight hug before leaving.
you felt giddy as you prepared yourself, slipping into your best clothes and fixing yourself in the mirror. you felt as you did on the night of your first date with him. you couldn't be more excited.
then, you waited. and waited. the restaurant happily sat you next to a window, the streetlamps twinkling romantically against the dusky backdrop.
you waited some more. soon your bright posture slouched as your checked your phone. messaged him a couple times, called a few times more. he's probably just running late.
families came and went, and before you knew it, hours had passed.
you burned in embarrassment as you stared at the empty chair across from you, focusing your frustration as if he was sitting there. but even that didn't give you relief. every one of your thoughts and feelings came to the same conclusion—
he hadn't shown up.
IZUKU
you ordered some food to-go. why not get something out of this outing? besides, the food would do good to distract you from the dread swirling in your stomach. you flashed the server a quick smile before dragging your feet out the restaurant.
you threw your bag, coat, and shoes to the ground as you walked into your apartment, uncaring of where they ended up. you needed the couch, a movie, and the food you were carrying.
a few hours later, izuku showed up. you heard the door slide open and the jangle of his keys. his heavy sigh was familiar and it almost made you feel bad for feeling so angry about him missing this date. almost.
you made no move to greet him as he entered the living space, a big grin plastered on his face. "you look pretty."
the compliment was just salt on the wound, ironically. you hummed, remaining laser focused on your show.
he tugged off his white gloves and set them on the table. "what's got you all dressed up tonight, hmm?" he sat next to you, running his hands up and down your arm.
you just handed him one of the takeout boxes. "want some?" you said dryly.
"what's this—? oh, i recognize the name of this restaurant..." he surveyed the box in his hands, his voice becoming quieter as he sunk into his thoughts. "oh."
you got off the couch.
"oh." he repeated, staring at the takeout box incredulously. "baby, don't tell me tonight was—"
"it was." you said simply, walking into the bedroom. you couldn't bear to look at him.
"fuck." you heard him hiss. a light thudding followed as he hurried after you. "y/n, god, i'm so sorry—don't tell me you went there alone—"
"izuku, i don't care anymore." you turned around abruptly, making him skid to a halt before you. his expression read shock. "i don't."
he slumped and inched closer to you. "no, don't say that—"
"you don't give me a reason to care anymore." you laughed wryly though your lips trembled. "i—" your breath hitched and you turned away from him.
his voice sounded watery as he tried to turn your body to face him again. "i'm so sorry, there was a hangout at the agency after work today and... shit, i totally forgot—"
"a fucking party?" you snapped. "you blew off the date you and i planned for months in advance because we never get to spend time together anymore to hang out with the same goddamn people you see every single day?"
he groaned. "i know, i know—"
"you don't know, izuku." your voice quivered. "you don't, okay?" you sobbed.
he was stunned to silence, unsure of how to right something so horribly wrong.
"you don't know what it's like to always be waiting. i'm always waiting for you. you always have something better to do." you sobbed, sitting on the edge of the bed. you really didn't want to have this conversation with him; you knew you'd break down sobbing. you thought it would've been best if he didn't come back home at all.
he knelt beside you, resting his head where your knees hung over the bed. he stared up at your heartbroken face with tears threatening to flow. "there is nothing that deserves my time more than you." he said firmly.
"you say that as if it's true." you said quietly. "but you don't even..." you looked away from him to reign in your emotions.
he frowned deeply. he knew it was all his fault. you reminded him this morning and he still forgot. you had no reason to believe the words coming out of his mouth. that doesn't mean he's going to stop trying to prove them.
he rested his head against your stomach and wrapped his arms around you tightly. "you have every right to hate me right now, y/n. you've been lonely and overlooked and i haven't done anything to make things better."
you refused to look at him.
he tilted his head with hopes of catching your gaze. "y/n, i mean it. there's nothing that deserves my time more than you. anyone else would've left me. you've given me love and understanding with my hero work..." he choked on his words, finally facing the reality of his relationship. "and i've just taken it and left you behind."
you sniffled.
he stood, bending at the waist to kiss your forehead. "i love you. so much. it's time i start proving it, huh?"
your eyes flickered to his, questioning evident on your expression.
he smiled sadly. "japan has many heroes. i'm sure kacchan and todoroki can handle things without me for a while."
you huffed and rolled your eyes. "very funny. you're a hero, izuku, it's in your nature to shoulder everything." you pouted, guilt threatening to inhabit your thoughts.
he shook his head, cupping your cheeks in his hands. "i'm dead serious. the world doesn't need me everyday, you do. and i'll adjust my schedule to suit."
"but..." you groaned. "god, why do i feel guilty now?" you mumbled.
"stop it. you're not keeping me away from anything. this was long overdue. nothing would make me happier," he grinned and kissed you again before tackling you in a hug.
BAKUGOU
you left the restaurant without another word, feeling so sick to the stomach that you couldn't even bear to go home to the empty apartment.
you tried desperately to convince yourself that something important was holding him up. he didn't forget. he just had some life-threatening epic battle that he needed to attend to. he didn't forget.
you crashed at a friend's house for the night, after a very satisfying rant session about your dilemma. they were a great soundboard and didn't try to regulate your emotions. in a lot of cases, just letting your feelings fly free was the best way to cope with a situation out of your hands.
rrrring rrring
you saw the caller ID and was tempted to ignore the call. but your hands moved on their own, accepting it and putting the phone to your ear.
"y/n l/n." bakugou snarled on the other side. "where the fuck are you?"
"a friend's house."
"why?"
you shrugged, hoping your unbothered reaction would be translated across the phone. "wanted to be with someone last night after my boyfriend stood me up."
silence. a very long silence. you heard him cuss under his breath before he replied. "yesterday was our date."
you hummed.
"y/n. come home."
"i'm good here, really."
"i'm serious, come home."
"why? the off-chance of seeing you there?"
his voice grew more desperate. "y/n—" his breath caught in his throat. "i'm home. i'm waiting for you. we can do something today, maybe—"
"katsuki, you can't keep treating me like a test that you can make up whenever you fail the real thing. you're not there when it fucking matters." you snapped, your resolve crumbling as your eyes started to water.
he gave a weighted sigh. "you're right. i've been treating you like shit."
you scoffed.
"but you're always on my mind. every time i see you asleep when you were trying to wait up for me, i—" he inhaled deeply, trying to keep it together. "i'm not the best boyfriend. believe me, i know that. and i'm losing you... i can see that, too."
you waited.
he sniffed. "come home, y/n. please. i—"
you hung up. you tossed your phone aside and stretched. you gently wiped at your cheeks, realizing how many tears streaked them.
after thanking your friend for their hospitality, you decided to go home. you dreaded the conversation that awaited you. uncertainty riddled your thoughts; was this the end?
you opened the door and immediately heard pounding footsteps to meet you. bakugou stood there, looking uncharacteristically stressed and awkward.
you just gave him a passing glance as you slipped off your shoes, hanging your coat up. you walked past him, going to the washroom to refresh yourself with a much needed shower.
as the water ran down your skin, you began to feel guilty. he was a hero. he saved lives. and you were crying over a missed date with him? when his mere presence meant the safety of those around him?
no matter how valid your frustration and sadness was, you couldn't help the creeping guilt from overwriting your feelings.
you stepped out of the shower, then dressed comfortably for a night in. when you opened the bathroom door, he was waiting outside like a puppy.
you sighed. "i'm sorry." you finally said.
his neck snapped to look at you. "why the fuck are you apologizing?"
"you're a hero. i knew what i'd be signing up for when i got into a relationship with you—"
"are you crazy?" he growled, grabbing your cheeks and tilting your face to look at him. he searched your eyes with concern, as if there was something wrong with you. "you don't need to apologize. my being a hero is no excuse for the way i've been treating you."
you frowned. "but—"
"no." he pulled you into a hug, wrapping his arms around your head. "you—" he laughed dryly. "i can't believe you thought to apologize to me. you're really crazy."
you opened your mouth to say something, but he cut you off. "i'm so lucky to have you. seriously. i can't live without you and i will do everything to prove that from now on."
you pulled away and looked at him. "you better mean it."
he gave you a lopsided grin. "i do. thanks..." he trailed off.
you cocked your head to the side. "for...?"
he kissed you gently. "staying." he hugged you tightly, his next words barely a whisper, "i'm always gonna be there for you."
amidst a couple of tears, you believed him.
© miniimight ! thanks for reading <3
#bnha#mha#izuku midoriya#izuku x reader#deku#deku x reader#bakugou katsuki#bakugou x reader#mha comfort#mha angst#mha x reader#bnha x reader#bakugo x reader#midoriya izuku
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A ftm Orc Husband who finger fucks you in front of the rest of their village at your wedding reception. You knew that sex in front of the village after marriage was common, but you had no idea what exactly he would do to you. You were dressed in the traditional white dress of your human world, veil and all. After the first kiss, just as the reception is about to start, your husband is sat in the middle of the room. You’re pulled into his lap, his large hands forcing your legs apart as soon as you’re sitting.
You blush slightly as his fat fingers tease you through your panties, which only lasts for a second before he rips them off. The other Orcs cheer as your husband spreads your dripping pussy lips for them. You press yourself against your Orc Husband’s chest, your back hard against him as he uses his other hand to hold you in place. You whimper softly as he teases your little clit, making you twitch and tighten around empty air. The Orcs laugh at how desperate you are. With your face burning, you start to ask your new husband if this can be done, but then he forces one of those thick, long fingers inside of you.
You yelp and jerk back, forcing your husband to grip your throat. His hand completely covers your throat, that slight pressure reminding you who and what you belong to now.
“Careful, my wife. I don’t want to break you yet,” he chuckles in your ear as he crams his finger inside of you up to the knuckle. It’s bigger than any cock or toy you’ve taken, making you tear up. Your husband chuckles as he sees this, licking the tears from the corners of your eyes.
He fingers you roughly, bouncing you up and down on his finger, then two fingers, nearly ripping you. You’re soaked, your juices dripping down his hand. You can feel how wet he’s getting under you too, and after he leaves you gaping, you’re pushed to the floor, your face shoved into his Orc cunt. You lick and tongue fuck him as best as you can on your hands and knees with him still fingering your poor little pussy, still fully on display for his village. He grabs you by your hair, forcing his Orc t-dick down your throat. By the time your reception actually starts, you’re completely covered in his juices and cum, as well as yours, with your little human pussy stretched and sore.
#fantasy romance#monster lover#smut#writers on tumblr#writing#fantasy smut#monster romance#author#monster boyfriend#monster bf#monster husband#tw monsterfucking#monster fluff#monster kink#monster fucker#monster fuqqer#monster fudger#monsterfucking nsft#monsterfucking cw#monster k!nk#orc husband#orc smut#public k!nk#queer writers#soft cnc#queer smut#ftm ns/fw#ftm nsft
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˚ . ✧ 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐈𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐄𝐄
vol 2; summer breeze — king!steve harrington x fgirl!reader x eddie munson
summary: in which some chaos ensues between the boys and billy, and one of the boys finally get what they want; you. (wc: 6.5k+)
warnings: smut smut smut, minors DNI, p in v, creampie, unprotected (wrap it up irl im so serious) kinda fist fight? billy gets punched, im sorry but billy gets punched a lot in my fics, protective steddie hehe, drgs, weed basically, no use of ‘y/n’, degrading, praises, LOTS OF PRAISES, nicknames! reader is kinda heartless basically a maneater and kinda of a mastermind, eddie is a cutiepie.
authors note: not proof-read ignore mistakes ! thank u @andvys for giving me the best ideas always and thank u for helping me! ily and hope u enjoy this mwah!!! also yall know mastermind by ts? and how its kinda supposed to be sarcastic? well i took that song too seriously and literally. listened to a lot of metal and this fic is their love child! enjoy !!
and please like + reblog + interact to support me ! thank u ily
read vol. 1 here
Fuzzy.
Exactly how your mind and body felt.
You didn’t expect to do that with Steve.
King Steve. You were just supposed to play with him.
He wasn’t supposed to make you feel like this.
And it wasn’t anything, it was purely physical. Or at least that’s what your mind forced you to think.
Because no one had ever made you cum like that before, no one ever attended to you like that before.
Pathetic. Really pathetic. You’ve fucked half the guys in Hawkins, yet one night with Steve, and he didn’t even fuck you, yet that’s all you could think about.
You sucked on the cigarette sitting between your lips, the feeling giving you a lewd reminder of earlier when you remembered how good he felt between your lips, sliding down your throat.
Shit shit shit. Shut the fuck up. What the fuck was wrong with you?
“Want something stronger than that?” The voice belonged to the curly-haired boy you were looking everywhere for.
It felt like a fucked up horny deja vu.
Turning around swiftly, the smoke formed around the air between you when you blew it in his face, making him grin. “Eddie!” Your tone gleeful, “Been looking everywhere for you!” Sweet. Sweet but so fucking dangerous. Eddie knew that about you.
He knew about the effect you had on everyone. I mean, he wasn’t complaining, he was right there in line with them. Just to have a glimpse of you.
He and Steve shared one thing in common; you.
Maybe that’s eventually what drew them closer, both boys begging for your attention in every way possible. Pathetic, but you were so tempting.
They teased each other about you, Eddie bragged about the countless times you batted your lashes at him, the countless times you twirled and giggled at him.
and Steve bragged about how you looked at him with your alluring eyes, or how you called him ‘baby’ that one time.
Eddie was sure he had never seen Steve the way he did with you, because Steve usually never got hung up on one girl, it was simple for him, he’d fuck one and then move to another. But you always kept him on his toes. Something no one ever did before. So he always tried and tried, failing regardless.
He didn’t blame him, he’d burn the world down if you asked him to, even though the only interactions he had with you were when you bought something from him, or the countless times you winked at him whenever he saw you around. God, that had him on his knees.
So it was no surprise he almost melted when you said those magical words. You? Looking for him?
“Me?” A rush of bubblegum pink is quick to rise to his cheeks. He can’t help himself, Steve was going to freak out when he found out how you were looking for Eddie. God, he was going to have fun with this.
“Where’s Billy?” He added, trying to sound cool when he lit the freshly rolled joint sitting on his wetted lips.
He was cute. Didn’t even know the rumors, and the blush on his cheeks weirdly had you need him.
“We broke up,” you hummed, and a boyish grin sat on his lips immediately while he noted how you didn’t have a sad bone in your body, that jerk didn’t deserve you. “I’m just having fun now, you know?” You added with a smirk.
You were going to be the death of him. He could be fun, he could be so fucking fun, he could make you feel fun you’ve never felt before.
“Oh, yeah? With who, now?” Shit, shit, shit. That is not what he meant to say, he was an absolute fucking idiot. A grade one asshole.
Your eyes widened when you tilted your head, “are you calling me a slut, Munson?” You snatched the joint from his lips, earning a whine from him as you kept your piercing eye contact.
The pinkish color on his cheeks turned blood red, and you could see him almost fidgeting. Why did you find it so endearing?
“N-no! No that’s not what I meant at all! You’re not a slut! I mean if you want to be you could be— I mean you’re not but—” His words tangled with each other adorably, and you couldn’t help but let out a deep chuckle.
“I’m just playing with you!” You playfully nudged his shoulder, adoring the way his grin came back instantly, you took a long drag from the joint before passing it back to him. “Don’t worry, baby.”
Eddie almost lost it at that.
Suck it, Steve. She called him baby, too, and now they were fucking even.
“I’m having fun with everyone that douchebag hates.” You muttered with a smirk.
Eddie desperately needed to make Billy hate him, maybe he could rip him off the next time he brought from him, or maybe he could just… sucker punch him?
“Steve was fun.” You giggled, remembering the way he was so pathetically begging for you to stay. And you had to admit he was good, the best you had in this messed up town.
Eddie blinked quickly, struggling to process what you just said… You.. and.. Steve?
“Steve?” He almost stammered, face growing hot at what you were implying, did that little asshole actually manage to be with you? You?!?
“Steve Harrington?” He repeated.
“Yeah,” you hummed, brows scrunching at his dumbfounded expression… What was going on? Was he… jealous?
“You jealous, Munson?” You giggled with a smirk, brow raised and all bold. So upfront that it has Eddie stammering and blushing all over again.
“N-no, uh— Steve is my friend is all.” He adds, taking a long drag from the joint to keep himself together, he has to look all confident because he wants to impress you.
He just doesn’t know that you being all flustered is what draws your attention. Confident but still cute. The exact mix you need for Steve’s arrogance. And they’re friends? Fuck, just the thought of them together has you rubbing your thighs.
“Oh!” You hum, “That’s funny because I was actually going to go for you, but Steve found me first.” You know the effect that will have on Eddie, you see it in the way he coughs while exhaling the smoke, wetting his lips while he tries to play it cool.
Sadly, it’s all interrupted by the one and only. Billy fucking Hargrove.
His hand roughly makes you turn to him before you can comprehend what’s happening, “Fucking Harrington, really?” He spat in your face, nostrils flaring with how angry he was, but all it did was make you want to laugh in his face—the audacity of this little boy.
Eddie’s quicker than you to react, trying to push him away from you but Billy shakes off his hold. “Get away from her.” Eddie spits. Billy ignores him with a scoff, attention all on you.
You hate the way your stomach flutters at Eddie being protective, what the fuck are these boys doing to you?
“You kiss Tina in front of everyone, and me fucking Harrington is the problem?”
“You fucked him?” Billy lets out through gritted teeth, technically, you didn’t but it seemed like Billy only thought the two of you kissed.
Before you could answer he clenched his fists, “I’m gonna fuckin’ kill him.”
Shit. You really didn’t think this through, did you?
A guilty feeling settled into your stomach, Steve didn’t deserve that. And he definitely didn’t deserve to get beaten up because of you. You swallowed the lump in your throat and grabbed Billy by the arm to stop him from searching for Steve.
“D-don’t!”
“Excuse me?” Billy said, pinching his brows together.
“Please don’t do anything to him.” Eddie watches everything unravel, taken aback by how willing you are to throw yourself under the bus for Steve. It makes his brows furrow and makes him almost get a glimpse of you, behind that cool facade, behind that whole act. It entices him more and more.
“Jesus fucking Christ.” Billy scoffs, “You fuck him one time, and look how pathetic you get. No wonder everyone keeps calling you a slut—”
A loud thud resounds in your ears, you barely register what happened before you turn to see Steve shaking off his fist with a smirk on his face. “Don’t fucking call her that again.”
Billy chuckles loudly at the impact, blood quickly dripping down his nose and an obvious red mark bruising his cheek. “My my, Harrington coming to defend his new little slut, huh?”
And this time, another thud of a punch resonated from your side, and you audibly gasp.
Eddie.
These boys were going to be the death of you, appearing out of nowhere and then doing shit like this.
They stood in front of you, arms crossed against their chest as they eyed Billy groaning on the ground, it wasn’t long before Tina came with her annoying shriek and a crowd formed around the four of you, the two boys were quick to drag you out of the party.
“Couldn’t stay away from me, could you, sweetheart?” Steve muttered in your ear with his lips twitched into a smirk.
Cocky bastard.
You gave him a slight smile. “Actually… I was looking for this one,” you hummed sweetly, hand gently nudging Eddie’s shoulder. A grin sat on his lips, he itched to elbow Steve, who just gave him a roll of his eyes.
“But, thank you, both.” You give them a shy smile, it’s meaningful, and you’re grateful to have them protect you.
“Anything for our special girl,” Steve winks.
“Want us to take you home?” Eddie interrupts, eyeing you, he can see that you’re a bit shaken up, even though you try to hide it.
“No need, boys. Can walk home!” You giggle with a wink.
“We insist.” Steve steps up, leaning into the car, hips jutted out. All slutty, and it’s tempting. But, no.
You had fucked up enough today and gotten your feelings too involved. You couldn’t do it.
You gave both of them a sloppy kiss on their cheek before you got on your feet, “My house is just around the corner.”
“See you around, boys.” You winked one last time, turning back before they could say anything, walking away with a strut as you could almost feel their gaze burn your back.
Both boys watched you with their jaws almost open, teeth biting onto their bottom lips with hope. They wanted—needed you.
。°。°。°。°。°
“I’m tellin’ you dude, it was fuckin’ unreal. She was just so good,” Steve hummed into the ice cream he took a stripe of lick from.
Eddie grunted. “Jesus, fuck. Still can’t believe she let you even near her.” He glared daggers into him.
Steve grumbled a chuckle, nudging him. “Jealous much, Munson?” His lips curled into a boyish grin, face inches away from Eddie who was now stammering.
“C’mon, we can share, can’t we big boy?” Steve winked, enjoying the crimson red coloring the curly boy’s puffy cheeks.
“Nothing we haven’t done before,” He hummed, sucking his cheeks with a ‘mmhmm’ sound as the flavors of the strawberry goodness flooded his senses.
They did have threesomes before, but this was different, this was you. It meant so much more to Eddie, and selfishly, he wanted you to himself first, too.
“If you can even get her,” Steve smirked, knowing if it took him this long, Eddie would have to try for years.
“Oh, don’t worry about that.” Eddie winked with a new-found confidence
“I’ll turn on the Munson charm.” He snapped his fingers together with a wicked grin, “and she’ll be beggin’ for me in no time.”
Steve couldn’t even keep the throaty chuckle for a second before he patted Eddie on the back. “Good fuckin’ luck with that.”
You shouldn’t have been eavesdropping, but how could you not when they were right fucking in front of you?!
And after Steve said, they had done threesomes before, your mouth watered just at the thought of both boys towering over you, attending to your every need, trying to dominate you but also pathetically begging for more.
And if you framed everything correctly, they’d want to fuck you and would think they were the ones in charge, not knowing you were the mastermind behind all of it.
“Hi, boys!” You waved with a giggle, rushing to their side as your skirt rode up your thigh, both boys turning their bodies fully to meet you.
Both of their Adam’s apple bobbing at the sight of you—a graphic baby tee showing just enough of your skin, paired with the most perfect skirt Steve has ever seen, and Eddie’s eyes were almost glued to your chest, enjoying the way your breasts jiggled as you walked.
You couldn’t hide your smirk at their widened eyes, men were so easy.��
They both stammered, and you wished you weren’t enjoying this so fucking much. But, you were. You had to have both of them.
Letting your tongue swirl around the cone in your hand, you looked up at Eddie. “What flavor is that?”
“Chocolate,” He replied quickly, “I love chocolate!” You exclaimed, and Eddie grew weak in his knees, gulping and letting his cock strain himself against his zipper. God, he felt like a fucking pervert.
“Do you wanna try some?” He barely managed to speak clearly and you nodded quickly with a grin, Steve watching it all with a huff.
Without giving him a chance to do anything, you wrapped your palm around his, giggling while you let the cold silkiness coat your tongue, lapping at it while your focus remained on Eddie’s dark eyes.
He almost groaned at the sight; you knew that was your cue. “Tastes so delicious, Eds.” You hummed with an exaggerated sound, reveling in the way Eddie blinked quickly to register all of it.
“Wanna try mine?” Steve’s silky, cocky voice had your attention shifting, you raised a single brow, shrugging.
“Already tried that, thanks,” Your voice carries a bit of coldness but is still alluring enough to have Steve crave more from you.
“I don’t think you tried all of it, sweetheart,” His voice still held that cool tone, tongue sticking out to lick a stripe from the cone wrapped around his palm, almost giving you a flashback as rosy lips framed the words so lewd that you had to do something.
You were quick to tilt your head sideways, leaning in just enough to have your velvety lips against his, Eddie watched in awe, enjoying the way you sucked on Steve’s tongue, letting the sweet strawberry flavor explode your taste buds as exaggerated sounds left your lips as you pulled away, leaving Steve with nothing.
“Mhmm, you’re right, Stevie,” You hummed, Steve’s face wearing a shock you hadn’t seen before. “But I think mine, tastes so much better…” You cooed facing Eddie, “Wouldn’t you agree, pretty boy?” You directed it at Steve, relishing the dumbfounded look on his face, while Eddie watched all of it with a contented sigh.
He needed both of you.
You needed both of them.
And Steve would do anything for you, and for Eddie, even if he never would explicitly show it.
“Y-yeah,” he stammered, bringing a wicked smirk to your face. Easy.
Before you turned to leave, you faced Eddie, “Oh!”
“Do you have any free time this afternoon?” If you gave him those eyes and that sweet tone, he’d give you all of his time in the world.
“Uh-huh, of course.” He's sure his voice sounds so squeaky but you smile at him so sweetly that it melts away all his worries.
“Okay, do you mind if I drop by? I need something to relax, and to let a little bit of my steam off…” You winked at him, you couldn’t be more obvious, and Eddie almost went limp at your words, no need for the Munson charm after all.
“S-sure!” He exclaimed, mouth curling into a wide grin.
“See you later, boys.”
。°。°。°。°。°
“Really?” Eddie eyed you with a raise of his brows, getting more and more comfortable the further both of you inhaled from the rolled joint, your knee brushed against his, and his worries ghosted away with it.
“You think Michael Myers is hot?”
“Yeah!” You nodded, “Too weird for you, Munson?” you nudged him playfully.
“No, no! It’s just… how? He has a mask on,”
With a shrug, “The mask is the appeal,” you giggle.
He scrunches his brows, confused. “The mystery of the mask is what makes him sexy.” You shrug, and a soft ‘oh!’ escapes his lips.
He’s quick to ash the joint to the skull resin ashtray, getting up in a rush, causing you to furrow your brows, “what the hell are you doing?”
He turns with a grin, “getting a mask.”
You giggle at that, “Oh, trust me, you don’t need a mask pretty boy.”
“W-what?” He blinks quickly to process all of it, bringing a wide smile to your lips as you almost drag him by the collar of his shirt.
Eddie’s almost frozen, his mind explodes at how forward you’re being, pants getting tighter when he realizes how close you are to him.
It’s finally happening and he can feel himself melt into you, he lets you stripe him of his control and his lips part slightly in surprise.
Mind struggling to process if this is all real. With a giggle you take him by surprise when you tug your fingertips at his messy curls, twisting his head to the side as you crash your lips down to his.
Dangerously sweet, addicting, and bold. And Eddie is putty in your hands.
“The prettiest lips,” you hum into his mouth.
“Yeah?” He almost blushes a rosy color, and you can’t help but relish that feeling, letting it sink to your chest at how beautiful he looks when he’s so flushed, and you realize you need both of them.
You need Steve’s cockiness, you need Eddie’s tentativeness at the same fucking time.
And both of their dominance.
You whimper needily, the feel and taste of his soft lips flood all over your body, making you ache. Holy shit, he’s fucking good.
“F-fuck,” He whimpers as he pulls back, mind trying to register everything, but he’s quick to dive back in once he realizes he just stopped kissing you.
A passionate, needy kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth, teeth nibbling on your bottom lip, as his hand roughly grabs your waist, pulling you further. You feel hot, skin buzzing at how demanding he is.
Then he slowly moves from your lips to your jaw, down to your neck, leaving sloppy kisses all over, and you can’t help but feel that warm slickness coating your thighs at how fucking needy he is for you.
And you know exactly what you need to do to lure him in, entirely.
“N-need you, Eds,” you whine into his lips, brows pinched together and Eddie’s already about to explode in his pants, you’re fucking perfect.
“Where do you need me, angel?” He asks, all obedient and it has your core throbbing with need.
Your thighs part slowly, skirt riding up more and more as you expose yourself to him, and Eddie’s teeth drag on his bottom lip at the sight. “Here,” nails rake on the surface of the couch beneath your legs, pussy fully on display.
He almost groans at the sight, but no, he has to take control back again, he has to impress you.
And he wants to savor this moment, enjoy you, fully.
It gives him all the confidence he needs, with a slight push he has you on your back, sprawled on the couch, you’re surprised by the sudden change of control, but anticipation jumps in your insides, not knowing his next move is exciting and you let him enjoy it.
His hands start to idly run everywhere on your body, all grabby and rough. You don’t know what to expect from him, and it certainly isn’t this, his hold on your hips, breasts, and thighs, enough to leave a mark, still gentle, still attentive but equally rough and it has you almost whining out.
He’s perfect.
“Needy baby,” He hums, planting a sloppy kiss on your neck. “What do you need… my fingers or my tongue?”
You shamelessly spread your legs further, enjoying his weight on top of you, hard bulge pressing against your thigh, but you need more. “Both.”
And your whiny answer is all he needs, his rough hands travel down to your inner thighs, almost toying as he drags his mouth all over you. Nibbling and biting all over your neck, shoulder, breasts, everywhere.
He’s quick to drop down between your legs, and he groans at the sight of your puffy lips and dampened thighs, “Jesus Christ…” His teeth draw on his bottom lip.
“No panties?”
“Nuh-uh,” you giggle shamelessly, and he’s almost fucking gone. The fabric of his pants so painfully harsh against his erected cock that he hisses.
Your legs quiver when he traces a finger around your opening teasingly and his mouth is pressing kisses down your inner thigh, sloppy and filthy.
“So fuckin’ beautiful,” he hums into you.
Your little whimpers and the sight of you so relaxed make Eddie a madman, he understands Steve’s non-stop blabbing about you the last few days, granted, he always knew you were perfect.
But once he gets a taste of this, and a sight of you like this, he knows he can’t fucking quit, ever.
“More.” You hiss out a breath as his fingertips gently circle your clit. It’s demanding, and Eddie’s amber gaze is dark as it meets yours. “Behave,” He warns, it’s electrifying, making you want to disobey more than anything, everything about him draws you in.
With a smirk, you run your hand down his arms, meeting his fingertips with a gaze so dangerously lewd that Eddie’s eyes almost roll to the back of his head. “But I’m aching… I need so much more.”
He groans, loudly. “So fucking needy, aren’t you? Only for me, huh?”
He wants reassurance, he wants you to tell him he’s better than Steve. And you don’t, because you need both of them, so you just tease him enough, just so both of them could get the idea of proving themselves to you.
You could just imagine them both taking turns, trying to prove to you which one would make you cum more, complementing each other, striping you out of your control, just for that one second, not knowing that you planned all of it.
It’s sick, a bit deranged, and stupid. But exactly what you need.
“Mhmm, only for you, baby.”
Endearing words have him quick to push two fingers inside of you, still agonizingly slow, withdrawing a breath when he feels your slick walls.
His fingers slowly go in and out of you, the suspenseful score from the movie almost mirrors your heartbeat, rising each time he gives you a grin, basking in your whines.
“Look so pretty like this, sweetheart,” he praises, enjoying how your lips part slightly, pretty whines coming out of it. He circles your clit at a slow pace, still. Relishing in the way his name slips past your mouth so desperately, almost begging.
He presses a light kiss to your clit, and you shudder at the impact, gazing down at him, “You like the way I look between your pretty thighs?” He hums into your walls.
“Yes,” You coo, and he doesn’t hesitate to dive in, parting your cunt with his thumb before his tongue is teasingly lapping up at you.
It’s all so filthy and intimate that you immediately squeeze your eyes shut, his fingers, his tongue, it’s all too much but at the same time not enough.
You need him, you need more from him. It’s just not enough.
“Makin’ prettiest noises for me, such a good girl, aren’t ya?” You hum excitedly, all fucked out as you grind yourself on his mouth, you don’t know what it is, but you can’t help yourself, fingertips latched onto his curls, head thrown back, you feel like screaming.
And he’s torturously slow, giving you everything you need but not fully everything, withdrawing just a little to have you go crazy. And it’s fucking working, his tongue works wonders inside of your walls, his name falling like a prayer from your lips.
Not fucking enough. And it’s frustrating, to feel so on edge.
You shouldn’t do this, you shouldn’t beg for more, but you can’t help it, it’s all hazy and you want more, it’s like you’ve been deprived, and he feels so fucking good.
And maybe, you letting Eddie fuck you could drive Steve further, you could just imagine the scorched face on Steve’s look when he found out, and you want that mean side of him. You want him to compete for your attention, you want him to stripe you out of your control, for once in your fucking life.
You try to drag at his curls to feel his tongue more and more, flicking at your clit agonizingly slow but he slaps your hand away, warning you with his dark gaze.
“I need more,” you pout, looking down at him all doe-eyed.
“Need you to fuck me,” you whine with a hidden smirk, Eddie’s eyes flashing a hunger that has you all excited in your tummy.
“Needy little slut,” he murmurs in your ear. “Steve wasn’t enough for you?” You love the newfound confidence in him, the sudden change in his tone, the darker his eyes get, the way he cooes has you dripping with need.
You shake your head with a giggle, “Steve didn’t fuck me.”
“What?” That brings an unintentional grin to his lips. You didn’t let Steve fuck you but you were going to let Eddie fuck you? Oh, he could just cum in his pants right then and there.
You? Begging to be fucked by him? He was in heaven, and you were the prettiest angel.
“No wonder, he can’t fucking shut up about you,”
So your plan was working.
“I don’t blame him, angel. I wouldn’t be able to quit you right after I tasted you either, so fucking perfect, hmm?” He gives you a dazzlingly addicting kiss, lips tasting like you and you hum into it.
You try to pull him closer by his shirt, but he doesn’t let you, making you pout innocently at him. “I need you.” You don’t know how he has you like this, and you try to make your brain believe that this was your plan, but you wholeheartedly want this, you want him to fuck your brains out. You want him to make you cum until you physically can’t anymore.
A possessive look sits on his face, gaze all dangerous and it has you wanting more, “You have me.” A wicked grin overturns on his lips, he’s quick to get rid of his clothes, almost ripping open your blouse. Fingertips brush over your skin with such passion that it almost burns.
He groans at the sight of your breasts, hands itching to grab them, mouth watering at the sight. “So.” A kiss on your breasts, “fucking”, a nibble, “perfect.” His hands grabbed everywhere, mind reveling in everything.
Still struggling to realize if this was all real or not. He was hooked, so fucking hooked.
He couldn’t blame Steve for not shutting up about you, you were addicting. He was right, maybe the two of you could share. He wouldn’t be opposed to it at all, if there was one thing the three of you were good at, it was this.
“That stays on.” He hums against your chest, fingers sliding over the tight little skirt you were wearing, flipping it over to your stomach but not taking it off.
You were whining like a bitch in heat now, eagerly watching him take off his cock from his already wet boxers, patches of pre-cum had formed on it and you couldn’t help the delicious smirk on your face.
With a painful groan, his cock slipped past his boxers, and your eyes widened at the sight.
Salmon pink tip pearled with his pre-cum, looking so delicious that your mouth involuntarily opened at it, he was almost as big as Steve, only thicker, and slightly more curved to the left, perfect, just fucking perfect.
You understood his cockiness when it came to this, he was absolutely packing and by the way he had been acting, you could tell he knew how to fucking use it.
He leaned back slightly, still positioned between your thighs before he took his cock in his hand, with a dangerous gaze, he jerked at it, letting out a small groan with a sly smirk.
You could feel your thighs dampening when he circled the angry tip over your clit. “That feels good, doesn’t it, angel?” Mocking, cruel, teasing. And you loved every fucking second of it.
“Y-yeah,” You murmur, eyes squeezed shut, your thighs are almost shaking and he’s watching you with a smirk, it’s all too sensitive and everything he does gives you an electrifying pleasure that you haven’t felt before.
Shutting up all the avoidant voices in your head that tell you you shouldn’t be doing this. Your thoughts and your body is consumed by pleasure as you hazily look down, his hand still on his cock while he drags it down through your folds. The tip of his pink slit parts you slightly, enjoying the way you’re gushing for him.
“Jesus fucking Christ… look at this cunt… just soaked for me,” he growls and lines his throbbing cock at your entrance, a loud needy moan escapes your lips, making him gloat.
“Look at how greedy your pussy is, angel… practically pulling me in.” He teases, cock still dragging along your folds, and you are about to embarrassingly beg, before he finally drives his cock the rest of the way into your aching cunt, “Fuck, fuck, fuuuck!” He groans loudly, his moans deliciously lewd. And your whines are mixed with his.
His hands are everywhere, rough, and grabby, almost like they are marking you. His hips thrust further into you fucking all of your worries away.
“Look how well you’re takin’ me, doll.” He hums, eagerly watching the way his cock disappears in and out of your soppy walls, mouth hanging open as curses slip past it at each of his movements.
“Eddie…” You whimper, you can’t focus, you can’t even fucking think. Your brain is short-circuiting by how good everything he feels, how he is hitting that one spot and is stretching you wider and wider, and you are doing everything you can to adjust to his size.
“What d’ya need, baby?” He coos mockingly.
He’s so much more cocky now, and he has earned it because he’s that good and you’re awfully pathetic for him.
You want to speak, but it’s almost as if you’re unable to, it’s frustrating, and Eddie is loving every second of it.
“Awww, so cock drunk that you can’t even speak, princess?” Another harsh thrust has you whining and squirming.
“You need more, baby? Need me deeper inside of this tight little cunt?” He hums, cock slamming inside of you so agonizingly slow that it has you moaning for more, you’re simply fucked out and he’s too far gone.
“Need me to stretch it out with my big cock?” You nod so quickly that your head almost falls off, and Eddie’s chuckle reverberates loudly, echoing in the room with your whimpers.
“Greedy little slut.” He picks up his pace, and you’re fully lost in desire now, clinging to him as each of his thrusts pushes you closer and closer, he’s filling you to the brim and it nearly has you sobbing beneath him.
“You feel so good, sweetheart. Fuckin’ soaked for me and this tight cunt was just made for my cock, wasn’t it?” He growls against your neck, licking a path from your collarbone to the shell of your ear, grinning like a Cheshire cat.
Your eyes are squeezed shut, head thrown back in full euphoria while he thrusts in and out of you, setting a hard, brutal pace. Teeth sucking into your shoulder to slow himself down, to stop the release he can feel building.
Incoherent babbles are all that leave your lips, you can feel that familiar knot forming in your stomach, “Y-yes, yes!” You whine, “I’m close, baby.” You lift your hips, trying to grind it against his cock to get more friction.
It’s all filthy and desperate and it has Eddie’s eyes rolling to the back of his head. You’re so fucking perfect for him and you stick to his mind.
This image of you, begging, his name falling from your swollen lips, all fucked out and spread for him. It’s doing the best fucking damage to his mind and he can’t get enough of you.
“You gonna cum for me, honey? Wanna soak my cock?” His words are so lewd and it has you nodding like an idiot, you want him to cum with you, you need to feel him inside of you. Filling every fucking inch of you.
He can feel your pussy clamping around him, it’s all glorious and he wants nothing more than to engrave this image of you to his brain. He wants Steve to know, how you were mewling for him. “Cum for me, angel.” He praises, slamming inside of you deeper than before, thrusts getting sloppier the more he sees how close you are.
He wants nothing more than to last, but your whimpers, the way you take him in, your mouth hanging open, it’s all fucking too much, and he knows if you give him one more whine or one more filthy talk he’s going to explode.
You writhe under him, so painfully good, but fucking impossible to hold yourself back once his thumb circles around your clit.
“W-want you to cum, too. Need to feel you i-inside.” You encourage him, and he groans at the idea of cumming together with you, balls drawing up and ready to fill your insides.
“Fuck, fuck, fuuuck, baby,” He growls, slamming into you once, twice, thrice. “If you say shit like that I’m gonna—fuck, fuck, fuck, baby!” He can feel his cock filling you to the brim, hitting that sensitive spot one last fucking time and you know it’s over.
“Cum for me, pretty boy.” You cry out as you orgasm, pleasure shooting through your already hazy mind, and that’s all the encouragement Eddie needs before he chases his own release.
He pounds into you one final time, deeper and harder, in a frenzy with how badly he needs to cum inside of you. With a few ‘fuck’s and ‘shit’s, and ‘so f-fucking perfect’s he growls your name as he fills you up. Not slipping out until he’s sure you’re filled full of him.
He collapses next to you with a sigh of breath, a sloppy kiss on your shoulder as he’s trying to register what the fuck just happened.
You don’t give him a minute to breathe when you quickly get up, collecting your blouse as you ignore the confused look on his face.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting ready?” You answer with a giggle.
“What for?”
“To leave, pretty boy.”
“B-but we just-”
He sounded so adorable, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t allow yourself to fall into a mess of feelings, and yet without knowing, you were already walking right into it.
“I’m going to this thing at The Hideout today.” You murmured while fixing your skirt and hair in the mirror. Skirt creased and hair all chaotic. You thought you looked a fucking mess, but Eddie would argue that's the prettiest you looked.
Ruined by him.
“There’s this band—”
“Corroded Coffin?” Eddie replied quickly.
“How did you know?” You turned with a raised brow, intrigued.
“You’re looking at their lead singer, sweetheart.” He replied smugly, a grin sitting on his plump lips.
“Oh my god!” You said in a mock screeching voice, “Can I please get your autograph, Mr. Rockstar?” You batted your eyelashes with a twirl of your hair, giggling when he narrowed his gaze at you.
“You’re lucky, you’re so pretty, huh?” You shouldn’t have felt your cheeks heat at the comment because he just fucked your brains out, but shit was he smooth. Making you blush with one fucking compliment. You were way too deep into this, weren’t you?
“So you listened to our stuff?” He asked, with a beaming smile on his face, too cocky. And it killed you to tell him you didn’t when he had the most adorable look on his face.
“No, but, this might be a great first listening experience.” You hummed, “So make sure you don’t suck, Mr. Rockstar.” Your hand turned the doorknob when you threw him a wink.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I will rock your fuckin’ world," He returned the wink. “Again.” He said with a smug smile and a cool tone.
You rolled your eyes playfully at him, “Oh, and make sure to invite Steve too.” You hummed nonchalantly as Eddie nodded, almost obediently.
He would do anything you asked him to.
Maybe you shouldn’t have accepted to go, because it was never any good to fuck the same guy twice, especially with someone like Steve who just slept around, or someone like Eddie who wore his heart on his sleeve. It would either end with your heart broken or theirs. Things always got too messy.
But both of them were just so… good. And you had this opportunity to have both of them.
How were you supposed to hold yourself back?
。°。°。°。°。°
“No fucking way.” Steve said exasperatedly, shaking his head and denying what Eddie told him for the hundredth time.
Eddie groaned, growing frustrated, “Yes fucking way, dude, ask her!”
“Ask her what, whether you fucked her or not?” Steve narrowed his gaze when he turned to him, words laced with bitterness, if Eddie didn't know him better he'd say Steve was jealous.
And he was.
“Yeah, because I did, and she fucking loved it.”
“Bullshit.” Steve spat, his face still wearing a shocked look that had Eddie grinning.
His mind was almost spiraling, that insecurity he felt years ago almost returning and the image was quick to shatter. Why didn’t you want him? Why did you want Eddie?
“C’mon, Stevie,” He elbowed Steve playfully, enjoying this. Steve gloated for days about you, for days. And now he had something bigger to tease him with.
Because you, who rejected every idiotic boy in this town, who even rejected 'King Steve' begged for Eddie. And he couldn't help but bask in that, especially to annoy Steve further. “Don’t be jealous, I thought you said we could share.” Eddie grinned like an idiot, brushing his shoulder against his teasingly.
And it was getting to Steve, the idea that you didn’t want him. Like you could see right through his King Steve bullshit. “Fuck you, man.”
“So, what? You can have her, but I can’t?” He said with a little bitterness spilling out, eyeing Steve.
“No, dude, just—” Steve sighed, “I can’t fucking get my mind off of her.” He mumbled, almost embarrassed.
“Neither can I!”
“So what the fuck are we supposed to do now?” Desperate, pathetic, and horny. Ironically, that’s how you were feeling too, without knowing that’s exactly what the boys were feeling too.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got that covered.” Steve looked at Eddie with a narrowed gaze.
“She’s coming to the show tonight,” Eddie hummed excitedly, “and she asked me to invite you too.”
Holy shit. That brought a saccharine smile on Steve’s face, it was stupid, to be so excited over something like this. But that meant you did want him. Stirring his stomach in the best and worst way possible, he wanted to shake it off, but he fucking couldn’t.
Jesus fucking Christ. What were you doing to him?
“Dude, do you realize what that means?”
“What?” Eddie inquired.
“Oh my sweet, sweet, Munson…” Steve tssked, “She wants both of us.”
“Oh, shit.” The realization was slow to hit Eddie, his mind still replaying what happened with you over and over again. “Wait you— uh, you’re okay with that?” Eddie asked, almost nervous.
“Yeah, dude, why wouldn’t I be?” Steve shrugged carelessly, it wasn’t anything they hadn’t done before, but Eddie still felt nervous, because this time it did feel different, with both of you.
“Besides we can’t keep our girl depraved now, can we?”
#steve harrington x reader#king!steve x reader#eddie munson smut#steddie x reader#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington fic#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson x reader#steve harrington x you#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x fem!reader#steve harrington x y/n#eddie munson x y/n#steve harrington smut#steve harrington#eddie munson
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Bucky needs to pay attention to me. 😤
I feel you, nonnie. 😂
Running on Empty
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Summary: You had a long day and need Bucky to give you some attention.
Word Count: Almost 1.3k
Warnings: Explicit sexual content, oral sex (f. receiving), established relationship, dirty talk, humor, sassy reader, inner monologue, slight feels (it's me, lovelies), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).
A/N: Work left me in a mood, so apologies for this. 😂❤️ 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!
You huffed as you took a seat on the couch and wondered why you bothered getting out of bed today. Contrary to popular belief, Mondays weren’t always the worst. Naturally, the universe decided it would be fun to give you problem after problem today at work in retaliation for having a positive attitude. How you managed to get anything done outside of putting out so many fires, you had no idea.
And Bucky?
Your beefy, gorgeous specimen of a boyfriend had time to sit, relax, and reread his copy of The Hobbit for the umpteenth time. Manspreading in his chair like he didn’t have a care in the world. Not that you wanted him to have a bad day, too. God knows he deserved rest and relaxation.
But why was he reading instead of fucking the obvious frustration out of you?
“You’re staring at me,” he said, turning a page without looking up from his book. “Which I would say it’s creepy, but we both know you like looking at me.”
True.
You bit your lip as you unashamedly checked him out, wishing he’d lift his gaze so you could see the blue of his eyes. It was an impressive feat that his prosthetic arm matched his right arm in terms of the muscular form and structure, the fabric of his shirt stretching to accommodate his torso. It didn’t matter if he decided to hold you down with his flesh or metal hand, he loved to remind you of his strength as he pounded your desperate pussy, stretching your walls and driving into you so deep that you swore you saw the gates of heaven.
Maybe that was why you thought Bucky looked like Jesus when he was in Wakanda.
“Yeah, I am staring,” you replied, tapping a finger on your thigh when he hummed. “Because I’m trying to figure out why you’re reading instead of eating my pussy.”
Bucky waited a beat before he picked up the bookmark beside him, carefully slotting it between the pages before he shut it and gave you his full attention. “You mind repeating that?” He asked, his voice gruff as he tucked some of his hair behind his ear. He wore it down today, but kept a hair tie around his right wrist.
Perfect for him to pull it back when he went down on you.
He smirked and scratched his scruffy chin when you narrowed your eyes. You craved the burn it left behind when he rubbed his face against your most sensitive area. He knew that.
“You want me to spell it out for you, Bucko? Fine,” you said, leaning back on the cushions as you spread your legs and planted your feet on the couch. Your hands formed a perfect V by your mound, which might as well have been a neon fucking sign since you ditched your under minutes ago, as he tried to hold back a groan. “See this? I have a perfectly good pussy right here and it isn’t going to eat or fuck itself.”
Bucky ran his tongue along his bottom lip before he inhaled. The beautiful bastard was actually sniffing out your arousal. You almost wished you could go back in time and let the scientists know that the serum they created helped super soldiers use their heightened senses to get their dicks wet.
Not that you were complaining since Bucky eyed you like he wanted to devour you whole.
“I’m sorry, baby. Didn’t realize eating or fucking your pussy was on my ‘To Do’ list today,” he said, purposely running a large hand over his crotch.
Fucking tease with his fucking massive hand and cock.
You pouted when he didn’t make a move to get up. “I am your ‘To Do’ list. I’m your girlfriend and I want you to do me because I had a long day,” you huffed, dipping your hand between your spread legs before you batted your eyes at him. “You haven’t fucked me in ages. It isn’t fair.”
Your beautiful man snarled at that, making you shiver as you teased yourself. You didn’t dip a finger in, but you did spread your growing wetness around as he watched. “I fucked you last night,” he reminded you.
“It feels like ages,” you corrected yourself. Thanks to him, you experienced what all-consuming desire felt like and you didn’t like going long without him having you. He couldn’t fault you for that, even if he did thoroughly wear you out the night before. “I’m so empty, Bucky, and I have this tight, wet hole for you to fill up. It’s all yours if you want it.”
His nostrils flared as he finally pushed himself up, his fingers flexing as you kept rubbing yourself with a sweet smile. “It’s my pussy,” he rasped, palming himself again as he stood in front of you. “And since she’s so needy that I can’t even finish a chapter of my book, stop touching her and let me get to work.”
Like you don't have a needy cock, big boy.
The growl in his voice brought a moan out of you, but you didn’t stop touching yourself. “Unless you mark it,” you began, looking him dead in the eye as you brought a glistening finger to your lips and traced along them like a gloss. “It isn’t yours.”
You managed not to smirk triumphantly when he took the hair tie from his wrist and pulled his luscious hair back. “She knows she’s mine. Bratty pussy just wants some attention,” he said as he dropped to his knees and leaned in to nose at your slit. “But I don't mind leaving my mark again.”
“Did you just call my pussy a brat?” You questioned, the last word coming out as a strangled moan when Bucky darted his tongue out, his fingers digging into your thighs to keep you still.
“No, I called my pussy a brat. Good thing I know how to tame her,” he said, winking up at you when you looked down. The playful look in his eyes made your heart swell. He was so beautiful it almost hurt to look at him. “Kisses are a good way to start before I pump her full.”
“A very good start,” you smiled, clenching in anticipation.
“And she loves my kisses,” he replied before dragging his mouth along your folds. The sensation that shot through you almost had your thighs clamping around his head, but it wasn’t possible with the hold he had on you. “I gotta say though. She's a messy little thing. Gets my mouth so wet.”
“Bucky,” you whimpered, tugging some of his hair free as he gently wrapped his mouth around your clit.
He hummed and lightly sucked on it before he pulled away, making you whine in protest when the sparks of pleasure fizzled out. “Speaking of kisses, I almost forgot.”
You gave him a small smile when he leaned up to tenderly kiss your mouth, letting him swallow down your moan as you opened up for him. It ended far too soon for your liking, making you loop a finger around his dog tags to pull him back to your lips. “Love you, Bucky,” you whispered.
On the days you practically ran on empty, you appreciated having someone like him by your side.
“Love you, too, baby,” he whispered back, his gaze soft as he slid back down your body. “Now hold on and let me make you and my pussy forget all about that long day.”
You knew he’d ask later if you were okay, but for now you’d let him shut your brain off and make you feel boneless.
And maybe you'd offer to warm his cock later as a thank you while he caught up on reading.
We all deserve that, right? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️
Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi
#navybrat writes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes x female!reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x fem!reader#bucky barnes x f!reader#bucky barnes#bucky x reader#bucky x female reader#bucky x you#bucky x y/n#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes fan fic#bucky barnes fan fiction#bucky fic#james buchanan barnes#james barnes#james bucky barnes#james buchanan barnes x reader#james bucky barnes x reader#james barnes x reader#sebastian stan x reader#sebastian stan x female reader#sebastian stan x you#sebastian stan
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the scenario: you’ve been really pent up lately, stress between work + everyday life and graves decides that he’s gonna help you de-stress (by riding him 🤭)
in the act, you’re practically fucking yourself stupid, like into oblivion…deep in. and you don’t even realize how overstimulated graves is getting until he literally pulls you off him (he came about three times prior)
🗝 𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔯𝔢𝔩𝔦𝔢𝔣 🗝 𝔭𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔦𝔭 𝔤𝔯𝔞𝔳𝔢𝔰
a/n: anon -- send me that audio you were talking about, too!! ;) not proofread/edited.
warning(s): nsfw, established relationship, overstim. (g & r), stress relief but make it steamy, husband!graves, fem!reader
───have a request? ˗ˏˋ ASK BOX ˎˊ˗
As if the day couldn't have been worse, you dropped your keys when you made it to the door. Every muscle ached as you bent down to pick them up — now upright with a tight scowl on your face.
The lock struggled until you jerked the key around a few times, finally hearing the click when it budged. With a flustered grown, you stepped inside and shut the door behind you, greeted with the comfort of your home. Dim and quiet, but still preferable over the migraine-inducing fluorescents of your workplace.
Your purse slid off your shoulder, falling somewhere on the hard ground. Frankly, you didn't have a care in the world about picking it up. That was a task for the morning — the first day of the weekend after a hellacious work week.
You made your rounds in the kitchen first, cracking open the first bottled beverage you could get your hands on. Flavored water, though if it would've been alcohol, you weren't in any mood to refuse. You finished the drink with heavy breaths, setting it down on the counter.
"Tough day, darlin’?" His well-acquainted voice hits your ears soothingly, shifting your attention from the counter below you to him. Wearing one of his old PT shirts and boxers, still visibly disheveled from lying in bed.
You bite back the urge to be snarky, reminding yourself that it’s indeed not the fault of the man comforting you that’s got you so worked up.
“Just work.” You mumble, then let out a defeated sigh. It’s your shitty boss, it’s the overwhelming workload, it’s everything, really.
With his lips pressed into a line, he nods as if he’s simply accepted your answer. You know by now that his wheels are turning, however.
“Mind if I help?”
⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆
You didn't get a full breath of air until his back finally hit the mattress, nor did you bother to get undressed fully. Instead, straddled him in your work clothes; panties pulled aside, button-up disturbed and slightly open from his yanks.
Graves found it best to say nothing unless it was muttering a comfort or praise into your ear. But you still hadn't let go of those frustrations yet — even with his honeyed worship.
Even after you pulled your first orgasm, even after his warm spurts of cum filled you — you had no desire to stop.
The silver lining? Whatever got you so worked up had long passed. Now, all you could scrounge in your psyche was the sensation of your husband's cock crammed up inside you.
His tip, reddened and slick with his seed and your arousal, still upright and swollen despite how long you've been using your cunt as a means for abuse. Nothing but a toy, at least while you were in the midst of a sour mood.
But Graves had no qualms about that; watching your tits bounce, your face contort as you moaned, the sweat rolling down your forehead until it went between your cleavage. His rough hands are on your hips, aiding you in swallowing every inch of him. Each time you'd clench or constrict around him, he felt another jolting sensation — inching him towards yet another release.
You hadn't stopped once, only slowed when you needed to readjust or cope with the burning of your thigh muscles. The pleasure was too divine to halt entirely — evident in how you had successfully overstimulated yourself and him.
"That's it, doll. Look at you..." Though his smirk had turned more into a muddled expression of ecstasy, his praising and bluster prevailed. Your soaked, pillowy cunt pulsing around his length, rendering him officially pussydrunk.
The lude squelches increased in volume when you began rocking against him at a wicked pace, feeling your third orgasm approaching rapidly. Remnants of the previous were leaking out of you, either spilling down your inner thighs and onto the sheets or being fucked back into you when he would thrust upward to meet you.
Graves' head snapped back against the pillows, yet again ready for another quick release. Every time he thought you would be too fatigued to continue, you rutted and got more desperate for another rush of erotic euphoria. It was too much, even for him — but you were too goddamn attractive like this, using him as an appendage to fuck away the frustrations, mouth wide open, hair ruinous and damp with sweat.
With the little strength he had left, he found himself determined to make this orgasm triumphant over the others. Before, all he had done was lay back and be used, but currently he found himself sitting up to meet you chest to chest.
His speech was slurred, as desperate as your bellows of pleasure. "Good girl, gorgeous. Keep usin' my cock— gonna cum again, aren't you? Atta' girl." His thumb found your puffy clit, circling and applying pressure to surge your approaching finish. Focusing on much of anything when so deeply stimulated was hard enough — however, this, he could manage.
How your moans had gotten louder, how you began to tremble all over again, it was worth it. Your eyes rolled slightly, head in the crook of his neck when you came undone around his cock for a third time. Nails dug into the tanned flesh of his shoulders, muscles tightening as the coil in your abdomen expelled all at once.
Overwhelming pleasure coursed through you, heightened by the two climaxes before. This one is the most daunting, the most fiercely shown on your body.
He had reached his own finish while you were too lost in your own. You only noticed when you heard his desperate grunts, that hot searing deep inside you as his cum spurted deep within you. Your back seemed to be stuck in a partial arch, every muscle in your thighs burning and aching for rest. But your mind was a fog, a fog with only one thing on your mind; more pleasure.
Graves fell back against the mattress as the remainder of his intense orgasm retreated, completely out of breath and flushed.
With less effort than before, your hips resumed a meek grind, powering through the ache of over-exertion. Another whimper slipped you as your nerves fizzled with the mounds of stimulation resuming all over your body.
His eyes shot open again, hands digging into your sides and forcing them to halt, "no more, sweetheart, you're exhausted." He slurred, taking a few seconds to lift you off of his now softening length. His cock fell limp against his thigh, slick and with a milky ring where you had creamed in the heat of the moment.
"I-I'm sorry, baby. Got carried away, huh?" Your chest heaved repeatedly, eyes lidded and drowsy — and all from your own doing. He barely lifted a finger, so to speak, and you were fucked-out. To think seconds ago you were desperate for another release and rutting again was miraculous. You found yourself slumped on top of his sweaty chest, still in the midst of catching your breath.
"You could say that darlin'. Don't think there's anything left down there." Graves chuckled slightly, though the expression was subdued with exhaustion.
He snaked up an arm, brushing away your sweaty strands and pressing a kiss to the side of your head. "Christ, you're shaking."
The sheets shuffled as they rubbed against each other until the throw blanket was draped over your trembling frame, engulfing you both into a literal bed of warmth.
Your eyes drooped without effort, the flutter of his heartbeat muffled as your senses dulled. The last sound you heard before plunging into much-needed sleep was his soothing voice. "Get some rest, sweetheart. Just sleep for me now..."
#mw2#call of duty#task force 141#mw2 fanfic#task force 141 x reader#phillip graves x reader#phillip graves smut#phillip graves#phillip graves cod#shadow company#phillip graves x you#graves x you#graves x reader#graves mw2#141 headcanons#cod headcanons#mw2 x reader#graves smut#graves headcanons#tf 141 x reader#141 x reader
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Haikyuu boys being perverted 🤫
cw: pet names, finger sucking, hair pulling kink, praise kink, daddy kink, creampie, choking, felching, oral sex (m. receive), public sex
(oral sex, finger sucking, daddy kink) DAICHI, LEV, IWAIZUMI, KONOHA, KITA, ASAHI
"Damn, I can perfectly feel your throat opening up for me... I like having you well trained." You're not in the real world at all. Your brain just sends you the same command over and over again. .-Open wide.-
The tip of his cock tickles the roof of your mouth every time it comes out, and when it goes in, it comes back harder than before. Your mouth right now has no use for anything but a hole other than being fucked by your boyfriend.
"Huh huh, don't close yet" his fingers take the place of his cock and you can only suck eagerly before they leave you again and go down to your pussy, filling it hard and not leaving it alone for a moment. "I feel like I've left you a little lonely... but don't worry, here's daddy to make you come as many times as you want on my fingers. You've earned it."
(creampie) BOKUTO, KUROO, MATTSUN, TANAKA, ATSUMU, DAISHOU, OIKAWA
"Ah-ah? F-faster? Mhmm... yeah? ya want me so bad? huh? Moaning like a slut, huh? c’mon baby, I know you can do it better." The heat in your belly increases with each tease, and also with each thrust. He reminds you in your ear how useless and desperate you are as you whimper clinging to the pillow, stifling the moans he never tires of imitating. "What do ya say? You're cumming? And without telling me? Oh… what a nasty girl”. And even though you can't see it, you can feel his gaze burning in the direction of your pussy, watching the white droplet emanating from it.
Much less could you imagine how hard he's cumming on you with the sight of you.
(Hair pulling, choking, semi-public sex) OSAMU, SUNA, SAKUSA, USHIJIMA, TOBIO
"Shh, no noise, I said. Or didn't ya hear me?" The shortness of breath turns you on so much, the way you smile at him at the grip on your neck, you know he thinks you're looking like a psycho in his eyes. "Wow, I didn't know I was fucking a whore. Do ya really like being treated like that?" the hair pulling makes you look at him better. You smile him again "I was right" His thrusts get deeper and deeper, and you can only enjoy the curses he spews out of his mouth.
"Please - don't… s-stop fucking me, please, it’s so good”. You ask. He won't.
(felching, pet kink) SUNA, BOKUTO, KENMA, LEV, HANAMAKI, DAISHOU
"Be a good girl and clean me up" the tug on the leash attached to your collar brings you close to his cock, which continues to gurgle along with little spasms from the long licks you take over and over again, until you make sure it's left as if he hasn't cum. "Very obedient... you want your reward? You've been really good" you nod, and as you do so well, you kneel in front of him. Still sitting on the leather sofa, he reaches over to you and holds your stifle as he whispers something in your ear.
The next thing you do is turn around and get on all fours in front of him
“Please”
"Good girl... let's make you have some fun”
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A.N.: This post never existed 🥴
#haikyuu smut#hq smut#haikyuuheadcanon#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu x imagines#daichi smut#lev smut#iwaizumi smut#konoha smut#kita smut#asahi smut#tanaka smut#bokuto smut#kuroo smut#mattsun smut#oikawa smut#atsumu smut#daishou smut#osamu smut#sakusa smut#suna smut#ushijima smut#kageyama smut#kenma smut#hanamaki smut#daichi x reader#suna x reader#osamu x reader#bokuto x reader#sakusa x reader
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Wylan leaves in the morning.
He doesn’t plan to, not exactly, but he definitely doesn’t plan on staying, either.
Wylan is no stranger to one night stands. He can’t say he gets around very frequently, but enough to know the general plot of how they're supposed to go.
Flirt, drink, fuck, leave. The order isn’t necessarily set in stone, but the list ends the same every time.
He has a good time, for the most part, and it’s always a welcome break from the awful chemical smell burned into the Tannery or the staleness of the empty rooms in cheap boarding houses (when he can afford them) that Wylan is used to. Wylan likes the freedom that comes with it, too. It’s liberating to go where he wants and do what he pleases; to not worry about who he’s seen with or sleeps with or what they might think of him after. And he likes feeling wanted, for a little while. He likes being reminded that he exists.
So Wylan does not make a habit of falling asleep with the people who take him to bed.
He doesn’t even remember falling asleep, really.
He doesn't remember, and yet, Wylan wakes up with his head pillowed on Jesper’s chest. With Jesper’s arm draped over him. His breath is warm where it ghosts over the top of his hair, and if Wylan glances up he can see the way Jesper’s mouth— those lips— fall open in sleep.
It’s the best morning he’s had in months, possibly. Certainly the most comfortable.
He knows it can’t last.
Wylan looks at Jesper, still sleeping peacefully next to him, and he panics.
He’d woken up in Jesper Fahey’s arms.
He’d slept with Jesper Fahey.
Jesper has a reputation, and Wylan knows it, even new to the Barrel as he is. He’d heard about Dirtyhand’s second and resident sharpshooter plenty— Can’t resist a gamble, never misses a shot, and not just with bullets. Jesper Fahey is an excellent marksman, they say, with terrible luck with the cards, and a soft spot for pretty girls and even prettier boys.
Jesper’s played the field— multiple fields— went on a seismic world tour of fields.
Wylan is very good at not being noticed. He’s also very good at listening. People tend to look past him, they never pay any mind to the too skinny boy with the wild hair and the hunched shoulders and the grime that never seems to wash off completely after his long shifts at the Tannery. Wylan knows this, knows he’s very adept at being able to disappear, when he needs to.
So by the time Wylan actually meets Jesper, he’s well aware of his place in Ketterdam’s booming rumor mill. Jesper has many, and Wylan thinks by now he may have heard them all.
And yet, none of them do a thing to prepare him for Jesper.
They’d met in a tavern.
Wylan had been nursing his drink for the better half of an hour, trying to come up with reasons not to go back to the sad cot he had waiting for him in a rented room, with the only window overlooking the brick wall of a dark alley.
So far, he’d only come up with the one.
Wylan had seen the tall Zemeni man from across the room and hadn’t stopped looking since. He was flirting with a girl at the bar, twirling one of his guns in one hand demonstratively with a drink in the other. The girl— a curly haired blond— was giggling, hand pressed to her mouth with eyes that had very clear and direct intentions.
Wylan had almost resolved himself to a night of wasting the few kruge at his disposal with little to show for it, when the man had looked up and caught him staring. The man had smiled, twirling his gun with an extra flourish and then tipped his hat. Wylan smiled back, and gave a little wave. Embarrassing, He’d thought, stop it, he’s already with someone else anyway. He’d looked down, and stared at the near empty contents of his drink until someone sat down next to him and said, in a voice like apple butter and sweet syrup, “Can I get you another of those?”
Then Wylan had looked up into the eyes of the handsomest man he’d ever seen, and thought, he has the most perfect lips.
Out loud, he’d said, “I, uh, well—” His mouth was wide open, he’d realised, and shut it quickly. Again, the man had smiled. Again, Wylan had smiled back. “Yes, please.”
And that's how he’d met Jesper.
Afterwards, they’d stumbled through the streets— I know a place, Jesper said, If you want to take this somewhere more private— until they’d passed a corner where a vendor was selling traditional Kerch sweets out of a cart.
“Stroopwafels!” Jesper had stopped. “I love stroopwafels!”
Wylan was tugging him toward the cart without really making a conscious decision to move, and Jesper had laughed, surprised and delighted.
Wylan bought them both stroopwafels and handed Jesper his with a shy smile and a shrug. “For the drink.”
Jesper looked at him consideringly, head caulked to the side, and Wylan felt himself blushing in the low light of the lamps. “You’re sweet,” he’d said eventually.
“Is that bad?” Wylan had asked, sheepish. Jesper was already shaking his head.
“It’s good. Just not that many sweet things to be had in the Barrel. It’s refreshing.” He’d bit off a piece of one of the waffles and smiled. “These are sweet too,”— he’d leaned in, smile still earnest but with something decidedly different underneath— “I like sweet.”
Jesper had not touched him like he’d been expecting to be touched. Jesper made no assumptions; he’d asked, about everything, in a way that was near gentlemanly if it wasn’t for the fact that he radiated trouble through his pores. Jesper was— not quite gentle, because Wylan had expected hot and heady and everything deep, and Jesper was all of that and more— but he wasn’t rough. He didn’t bruise, not if Wylan didn’t say yes first, and afterwards he’d laid back down and settled Wylan into his arms in a way that he had no real way of protesting— didn’t want to protest, anyway— and kissed him.
It was that that had scared Wylan the most, he thinks. Because Wylan is rarely kissed for the express purpose of it. It was always the promise of more— the rush of what was to come. But people do not generally tend to kiss Wylan for the sake of kissing Wylan. It’s different. Jesper is different, and Wylan can’t afford to be stupid enough to do something like get attached. Can’t afford much at all— really.
But Jesper had kissed him, pleased and lazy and warm, and at some indeterminate time later they had both apparently fallen asleep.
And it was nice.
It was too nice. It hurt with how nice it was.
Wylan peels himself slowly out of Jesper’s arms, careful not to wake him, and decides then that he cannot stand to be here any longer.
Jesper Fahey is not what he’d expected, he’s better.
Jesper Fahey is lovely, and beautiful, and kinder to him than anyone has been to Wylan for almost as long as he can remember.
Jesper Fahey is more than he could have ever hoped for, and he isn’t going to stick around for someone like Wylan.
So Wylan leaves, and he doesn’t look behind him as he closes the door.
#wesper#inspired by the tweet about what kit said about their first meeitng#wesper drabble#wesper ficlet#wesper fanfic#wylan hendriks#wylan van eck#jesper fehey#shadow and bone#six of crows#shadow and bone fanfiction#Jazzy writes#jazzy writes fanfic#a drabble for your troubles?
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Could we get a little something on the spicy side, maybe Raph just taking care of himself during a particularly annoying mating season, hes yearling after reader (who’s his bestie) and he’s feels all types of wrong but the more he does it, the worse (all too real) his desires get for him.
Watch
Ok so like usual this one got away from me, I played a bit further into the "all too real" than I had intended, I hope you enjoy!
Words: 1362
Warning: NSWF 18+, implied attraction between characters
Three weeks.
The pulsing ache that burrowed inside of him would leave after three weeks. The tension in his muscles would slip away, his irritability would return to its normal state, and life would resume as normal. Or as normal as it ever was.
Raphael usually stuck to his weight set for hours at a time before returning to his room to attempt to ease the stiffness that built up after a single day. That had become his routine whenever this time of year came around, and though he knew it was going to be a reoccurring thing, he dreaded it every time the weather started to warm.
Yet something new has happened since last year. Something that had brought a new complication into this tortuous few weeks. You.
They had met you by accident, and you remaining so close to them hadn’t been part of the plan either. Some days Raph felt so grateful that such a thing happened to them that it overwhelmed him, and he usually had to distract himself for a bit until the fullness inside his chest slipped away.
Other days, he cursed the world for it. You had opened a door inside him that he had locked for years. The feelings that he never thought he would have to deal with in his lifetime, now being something that trailed behind him closer than his own shadow.
He liked to believe he might be haunting you the same way. There were moments between the two of you that he labeled as your close calls. Times when you had brushed against him, times when you grabbed his arm while laughing and your hand lingered on his skin, thumb brushing briefly before leaving. Times that left him wondering if this was something more or if he was creating something new entirely.
Now, when he felt the beginning signs of springtime, he knew it was going to be worse. The thoughts that floated back to you used to be mostly harmless, now they dug into him like blades.
A few weeks ago, he had told you some bullshit excuse to keep you out of the lair while they were able to push through the weeks of unbearable horniness. He felt bad lying to you, but he felt it might be easier than to remind you of just how unhuman he was.
On one of the first days, he abused his punching bag until the chain broke. He lifted weights until his limbs burned, waiting until just before the sun set to touch himself.
When that time came around, he shut himself in his room. He slowly undressed, then lounged back on his bed. With his eyes shut, he slipped into the easy motions he had gone on many times before.
His cock was already hard just by the thought of what he was about to do. He wrapped his hand around it, his head falling back just from the feeling that provided.
He stroked himself slowly at first, squeezing his hand around the head to use his precum as lube.
That was when his mind strayed to you, and though he feared it would be unavoidable, it still made him feel like he was crossing a line he could never come back across. He had imagined being with you, of course, he craved to know what your legs would feel like slung over his shoulders. He wanted to know what you sounded like when you came, what you tasted like.
But something felt different about this. His hand moved faster as he imagined being inside of you. Your face buried in a pillow, muffling your cries for him to fuck you harder. He imagined cumming inside of you. How it would spill out of you when he pulled out, how full you would be of him.
He thought of your voice, smooth and beautiful. Your moans would be just as sweet, full of lust and pleads. He thought of your smell, something that managed to remain anywhere you touched just to taunt him. He could imagine it now, the silky aroma that drifted off of your skin. It felt so vivid to him now, so close to him it drove him crazy.
He was so close now it was nearly unbearable. His stomach had tightened, a cord stretching further and further. He heard your voice saying his name, and he pushed himself further into the fantasy of you touching him, of you yearning to see him cum, and he whispered your name in return.
Through his closed eyes, he noticed the room brighten a bit. When he lifted his head, his first sight was you. At first he thought he had imagined you there, eyes wide as you watched him. Reality sank in shortly after, and he jerked to sit up.
He blurted your name out in a panic.“What are you doing here?” He grabbed his pants off the floor and brought them over his lap. His blood roared in his ears as he waited for you to respond, to do anything but stand there. It was horrible of him, but the sight of you made his cock twitch beneath his clothes, reminding him of the visions he’d seen, how close he was just moments ago.
You were silent for a moment, before stepping inside his room, and, to his complete shock, closing the door behind you, pressing your back against it.
“What are you…” His words trailed off, breaths heaving. You clasped your hands together, but not before he noticed a slight tremor.
“You said my name. I heard you.” Your voice was quiet, and though you tried hiding it, he could tell you were nervous. “Were you thinking about me?”
Raph was silent, eyes wide. But you looked at him, waiting. After a moment, he nodded, still unsure if he had imagined you there at all.
“Can I watch?”
His heart nearly stopped, his body felt like it turned into clouds. He answered you by slowly taking the pants from his lap. You moved carefully, not taking your eyes off of him, and sat in the beanbag chair against the wall across from him.
He began stroking himself again, moving slow until he felt himself fall back into the motions. He found the rhythm he enjoyed, squeezing his fist at the head. At first he avoided looking at you, but he could feel you watching him.
He opened his eyes to see you leaning further back, your legs spread slightly, hands gripping your knees. He desperately wished he could know what you were thinking, but the rich smell of your arousal reached him from across the room, answering most of his questions for him.
It pushed him further, the fact that he could get you like this without even touching you. That just seeing him like this had gotten you wet. His hand began moving faster, he could hear you lean forward.
“Were you thinking about me touching you like that?”
A chuckle escaped him. “‘Was thinking about a lot more than that.”
“What else?”
“Fuck,” He put more pressure around his cock, feeling flares shoot down his legs. He saw the muscles in your legs clench, hands tightening into fists. “Thought about having you any way I want. Makin’ you say my name while I fuck you. Makin’ you cum.” He let out a sharp breath. He was almost there, the cord nearly snapping inside him. “I’d have you all to myself. Nobody else would ever fuckin’ touch you.
You slid your hand up your thigh, your voice a dreamy whisper. “Raph,”
Fuck.
His head fell back as he came. Ropes of cum landing across the back of his hand. The quickened rise and fall of his chest slowly began to settle
He wasn’t sure what was going to happen after today, but at the moment, with his brain clouded by the mix of his afterglow and his own instincts, as well as the undeniable need radiating off of you, he couldn’t care less.
“Come here,” His voice was low, eyes so intensely focused on you.
Without hesitation, you obediently stood, taking a step toward him.
#tmnt 2016#tmnt 2014#bayversetmnt#tmnt x reader#tmnt raph x reader#tmnt raph smut#tmnt raph 2014#tmnt raph 2016#tmnt raph 2016 x reader
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The Quiet Ones 5
No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: You live a quiet life, but your peace is fractured by a chaotic man.
Characters: Lloyd Hansen, short!shy!reader
Note: I slept for like ten hours and it was fucking wild.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.
Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖
You watch the long needle slide out from under your skin. You don’t feel it much. That man, Lloyd, loops the tube around the IV bag stand. You sit in the bed still, disoriented and dull. You can feel the tension buzzing off of him, as if he’s holding himself back. That scares you more than anything he’s done.
Before you can say or do anything, your stomach growls. The tumble is painful as your insides squeeze violently. He looks at you and takes your hand, tugging you towards the edge as he snickers.
“Hungry, jellybean?” He teases, “come on. I’ll make you a nice omelet.” He pulls until you shimmy across the bed. You turn your legs out and can’t help but use his strength to stand. He’s patient as he easily hauls you up. “You okay, babykins? I could carry you. Like before.”
“N-no,” you try to wiggle your hand free but his grip is unbreakable. He squeezes and you quit your resistance.
“You might be a bit groggy, that’s normal. The smoke, the meds--”
“Meds?”
“Well, I slipped a bit extra in the bag,” he shrugs as he glances over at the IV, “just so you could sleep.”
You look at him, your horror burning from your eyes. He grins proudly and swings your arm, turning to lead you to the door. You take short steps, muscles stiff and achy, shoulders wracked from sleeping on your back. You look down at yourself and shudder; at least you’re still wearing your own clothes.
“I’ve been doing cooking classes. I can do a florentine that will blow your tits off,” he boasts as he angles you through the door.
The hall is airy and echoey. The house must be huge. You get that sense easily. You don’t need to go around and count the rooms. He takes you down the long hallway and you stop at the top of a set of stairs. They bend in the middle but more corning, there’s a large space between each. They’re polished to a shine and look slippery as the morning reflects off of them.
“Just a step at a time,” he goads as you latch onto the railing.
You put a foot down and grip both him and the railing. Another tide of wooziness comes over you. It could be what he gave you or your days of restriction, but it’s too much. The world is too much.
“That’s it, baby,” he coos as you take a second step down.
This is strange. It reminds you of a movie you watched as a kid with a maze and twisting and turning walkways and a taunting villain. You’ve awoken in his trap and you see no escape in sight.
You slip on the third and let out a squeak as you feel yourself falling. He’s quick to catch you, scooping you up easily even in the narrow space. He lifts you and continues down swiftly, bringing you onto flat ground. You murmur and rub your head as you feel his heartbeat against your arm.
You feel a tickle in your hair and hear him take a deep breath. Is he smelling you? You repress a shiver at the thought as your eyes struggle to focus on the shapes all around you.
He carries you into another room, a kitchen, as spacious and sleek as any other part of the strange house. A white marble counter lines two walls and wraps around into full C, marking off the cooking space. On the other side, there’s glass table in an abstract, asymmetric shape with metal frame chairs around it. The whole place is out of one of those design magazines. All impractical at the expense of aesthetic.
He sits you in one of the chairs, it’s just a rigid as you expect. He stays bent, holding you by the shoulders until your hold yourself up. He drags his hands down your arms as he reluctantly pulls away. You flutter your lashes and rub your eye sockets, trying to block out your reality.
“My sleepy bean,” he beams and plants a kiss on the top of your head. “So how about it? Eggs florentine? Or are you in the mood for something a bit sweeter? I’ve perfected my crepes.”
You grumble and drop your hands slowly, crossing your arms as a chill rolls through you. You feel it pricking in your chest and across your skin. You’re not wearing a bra and your tee shirt is thin. You keep your arms locked.
You listen to him moving around. You don’t know what to do. You’re too weak to do anything. Even if you could get on the other side of the walls, you have no idea where you are. Where help could be.
You rock as your fear bubbles up. Why is he doing this? Why does he think you want him? Why you? Of all people. You mind your business, you keep your head down, eyes to yourself... you don’t deserve this.
You glance over at him as he starts to hum. Your lip quivers as you watch his shoulders blades stretch the fabric of his shirt. He’s a bit ridiculous in a full set of satin pajamas, the dark black speckled with a subtle grey leopard print. He’s too much.
You turn your head straight and let it hang. You resign yourself to helplessness. You have to be logical about this. You can’t spark his suspicion to soon. You have to wait for a window and then... figure that out, you guess. You don’t like uncertainty. You have a routine and you keep to it. That’s what keeps you safe. Or so you thought.
“...wise men say, only fools rush in...” he sings softly and you wince. The lyrics of the Elvis ballad make your skin crawl. He’s actually deranged. You don’t know him, you're strangers.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I know tree nuts are a no go,” he chimes as he whisks, turning to you with a broad smile.
You blink at him. How does he know that?
“Don’t think you’ll be needing any but I also got penicillin on the no go list and the latex thing... there’s alternatives,” he chuckles and you furrow your brow. “How’s that ticker doing? You been taking lots of iron?”
Your body hollows out. How much does he know about you? How? You can guess he’s snooped around your medical records. Obviously, he’s a man with criminalistic leanings. Is this even his house? Has he taken you to a fortress he commandeered by force? Is there some terrified family bound in the basement? Is there a basement?
He continues to futz around the kitchen as you curl your shoulders down and chew on your lips. Speaking of your heart, it’s beating again, racing, almost painfully. You’re a mouse trapped in the corner by the feline with his bristly whiskers.
Your eyes wander over to the large windows and you stare out at the curated landscape. The property is beautiful and lush. You imagine a whole team maintains the perfectly trimmed hedges and colourful blooms. The stone mosaic pathway and the leafy archway over a bench. It’s like a dream, more so, a twisted nightmare painted in hues of fantasy.
A plate clinks down before you and a sweet aroma brings you back inside. You face forward as Lloyd steps back on his heel, watching you with anticipation. You look at him then the plate. He pulls out a chair and plops himself down, planting his elbow as he cups his chin and watches.
“Let me know what you think,” he insists.
You take a breath and unlock your arms. Slowly, you drag them apart and take the thick butter knife and long fork. The cutlery feels too big for your small hands. You lean forward as the drizzle of dark syrup across the rolled crepe lures you in. Your stomach roars noisily and he giggles.
“Aw, you must be starving,” he muses, “please eat, baby, I don’t want you to ever go hungry again.”
You exhale through a ripple of disgust. You cut into the thin crepe and into the filling. Slice off the end of the roll and scoop it up with the filling. You carefully open your mouth around the fork and take a bite. Your eyes flit up to meet Lloyd’s as his gaze sticks on you. There are flames in his blue irises.
You pull your mouth off the fork in embarrassment as he hums. He’s a weird, weird man. All of this is weird. Surreal.
You look down at the butter knife and contemplate the gold cutlery. It’s heavy, it would hurt if you used the handle to give him a conk, but the blade is too dull to do much. It can slice through a crepe but wouldn’t do much on meat and bone. You don’t think you could do it, either. The thought of hurting others is just unnatural.
“Is it good? Tried my own combination,” he explains happily, “dark chocolate syrup, not too much sugar, some softened cream cheese in the middle with black cherry jam.”
You swallow and look around for something to wipe your lips. Short of a napkin, you lick your lip and clamp them together. He shifts in his chair, an act that makes you feel uncomfortable.
“Good,” you croak.
“Oh, wait,” he stands suddenly, “your coffee. Oopsie.”
He struts away and your stomach mulches the single bite greedily. As much as you want to be stubborn, you’re so hungry. And it’s delicious. It’s better than your usual flavourless fare. You could gobble it all down in a second but you won’t. You carefully cut out another bite as he returns with a tall mug.
He puts the cup down by your plate. You gulp down a forkful and set down the cutlery. You consider the mug before you take it, the white porcelain marked with the golden outline of a rose above the letter ‘Mrs.’. He has another in his hands, black but with a bowtie above ‘Mr.’. What the hell?
“Colombian dark roast. A little less caffeine so your heart won’t mind so much,” he says.
You nod and take the cup. The thought of coffee is enough to override your agitation. You take a sip and hold back a sigh. It’s good. You hate all of this but it’s all so good. You put the cup back and return your attention to the crepes. You pause and glance up at him. He doesn’t have a plate, just his cup.
“Oh, jellybean, you’re so sweet,” he smirks, “I gotta keep my protein up. I’ll have some eggs and a shake soon. Right now, you just worry about you.”
You dip your chin down and focus on eating. Small bites. You don’t want to seem too greedy. You don’t want him to see how much you need this. Does he know everything? Of course, he was watching but did he know the days you spent feeling as if your stomach was eating itself?
He pushes his hair back, trying to tidy the long strands as he watches you, “we’ll get washed up after breakfast. Then you can get settled in and relax. I’ll take care of everything else, alright? You just need to get all dolled up when the time comes,” he explains as he drags his fingertip around the tabletop, “not that you need to do very much.”
You just chew. What can you say or do? This man is straight up crazy. Not only are you his prisoner, he’s been stalking you. It doesn’t matter when it started, look where it’s ended. No, this can’t be the end.
“What’s...” you speak before you can think. You shake your head and smother your question with another bite.
“What? Go on, sugar lips, ask me anything? You wanna know my favourite colour? My favourite song?” His cheeks tint pink as he plays with a button on his pajamas.
You clear your throat and put down the fork and knife, “what’s going on... later?”
He tilts his head curiously.
“The... dress and... doll up?” You repeat his words flatly.
“That’s a surprise,” he trills as if it should be obvious. “Don’t wanna spoil it, do we?”
“I guess,” you sit back and fold your hands in your lap.
“You don’t gotta think about anything, sweet cheeks. You leave the thinking to me. I’m gonna take care of you,” he avows as his hand stretches across the front of his satin shirt. “You just gotta be you.”
You feel his gaze bearing down on you. You peek up to find his eyes slipping down and you feel them centre on your tee shirt, your nipples poking against the cotton. You hunch your shoulders and cross your arms again.
“How’s the coffee, jelly bean? You like it?” He tears his attention from your chest.
“Good, thank you,” you murmur.
“Ugh, I love hearing your voice,” he puts his coffee down and reaches between his legs. You blanch as he drags his chair closer as he lifts himself. He puts his hand on your knee, stroking with his thumb, “will you call me ‘honey’?”
You stare at him. Your cheek draw tight and your lips flatten. You want to shake off his touch and scream but that foggy glaze in his eyes deters you. This man is wild.
“Okay, er,” you gulp tightly and cough, “honey.”
He hums into a sigh and his hand slips higher on your leg before trail back down, “oh,” he shakes his shoulders, “that tingles. Do it again.”
You fight not to let your true emotion blaze through. You hug yourself tighter and bite down before you can muster the word, “honey.”
“Oh, baby, that’s nice,” he winks and sits back, eyes grazing up and down your body, “you cold? You’re all twisted up like a pretzel.”
You nod. It's an excuse you’ll gladly take.
“Why didn’t you say something sooner, jellybean?” He stands suddenly and you notice the way he tugs on the waistband of his pants. You turn your head, blurring your vision so everything around you is vague.
He rushes off and you wait. You don’t know what else to do. You’re still too weak to make a move. Whatever he gave you is potent. Or maybe, you’re just too scared to do more than shrink and surrender.
He returns with a fluffy purple robe in his hands. He comes around the back of your chair and you lean forward to let him drape it around you. He curls his hands over your shoulders and bends over you. He presses a kiss to the top of your head.
“You need more coffee, baby cakes?” He asks as he kneads your shoulders.
“Still working on it,” you pull away from him and grab the cup, “thank you...” you let the words dangle in the silence, tension piquing, “honey.”
He sighs and draws away with a tickle up your neck, “mmm, isn’t this wonderful?”
#lloyd hansen#dark lloyd hansen#dark!lloyd hansen#lloyd hansen x reader#the gray man#the quiet ones#fic#dark fic#dark!fic#series
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Could I request child reader who’s always really curious and frequently ends up getting hurt in dottores lab
Reminders to avoid confusion: Webttore will be called Theta, Omega is the segment in Sumeru who got the gnosis, Prime is Zandik himself.
To say that the segments were confused would be an understatement.
They are looking at you, who was being carried by Prime, as if you are a new species that they have never seen before across all Teyvat.
Meanwhile you, looking at them with your doe eyes, could only stare at them in wonder. Curiosity flashing across your face as you gripped on Prime's clothes so as to not fall.
"The fuck is that?" asked the segment with a mask that almost covers his whole face.
"'That' is a child, Beta. I suggest that all of you should keep the swearing to a minimum when in their presence." Prime said as another segment approached you and poked your cheek.
"Where did you even find them? Don't children have parents?"
"Their parents have been neutralized. I didn't expect to find them still alive under all the rubble after their house burned down. But their curiosity about the world around them is quite an amazing feature which is why I decided to keep them and turn them into my apprentice."
You giggled at the segment poking your cheek, his mask making you want to see the face underneath. Your hand quickly reached out and pulled the mask away from the segment's face.
Said segment could only stare at you in shock as you looked back at his ruby red eyes with a smile, your curious eyes glancing at the other segments that were wearing masks as well.
"If you have any complaints, do speak now and tell them. If not, this child will be living with us from now on."
The whole room was engulfed with silence, the segments glancing between you and Prime.
"Then it's settled."
The segments thought it wouldn't be too hard taking care and teaching you to fulfill that curious mind of yours.
It was a lie. The segments are fucking stressed out.
Every time you're in the lab with them, you always manage to get yourself hurt because of your curiosity. That mind of yours is always hungry to learn new things. The quote 'curiosity killed the cat' is true. You're the curious cat, luckily they were able to keep you away from dying and accidentally killing yourself.
But please for the love of Tsaritsa herself, listen to what they tell you.
Smashing a test tube and getting cuts from the glass shards because you wanted to know what the weird blue liquid was when Gamma told you not to touch it? Gamma had to clean up the mess meanwhile getting scolded by Prime.
The segments made Alpha watch over you for the time being since he was doing the paperwork for the day. You were sat upon Alpha's lap while he read through each document on the desk and sorting them out. The segments thought that you wouldn't hurt yourself if you were surrounded with papers instead of glass and chemicals.
They thought wrong.
'How the fuck did you get papercuts thrice within a day?!'
Alpha was cleaning up the wounds on your fingers while muttering at how you were even able to get yourself hurt. He didn't expect you to suddenly give him one of the files and tell him the errors he missed.
Then there was Iota who got too impatient with you failing to solve a very difficult science equation that he yelled at how much of a dumbass you are only to get scolded by Prime himself. Iota swore not to do it again so as to not get caught within Prime's anger.
Not only are you always getting hurt, the segments have to deal with Prime's anger and disappointment towards them for being irresponsible with you.
The segments were somewhat glad to have either Omega or Theta around whenever Prime was busy. Aside from Prime, you listen and obey to Omega and Theta.
Still, no matter how many injuries you get and how many scoldings and punishments the segments go through, they still cherish you as their own little sibling.
Prime even gifted you the same earring of a vial filled with strange blue liquid that he and his segments wore.
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU LOST THEM, SIGMA?!"
"HAVE YOU GONE DEAF, EPSILON? I LOOKED EVERYWHERE FOR THEM. I EVEN TRIED TO GET THEM TO COME OUT USING THOSE COOKIES THEY LIKE."
"We are so dead.. Prime is gonna go on a killing spree if he finds out we lost (y/n)!"
"Let's all try to calm down and try to remember where she was earlier. That way we can get a clue on where she went."
"Wait, wasn't (y/n) crying when Omega was set to go to Sumeru?"
"...THEY'RE WITH OMEGA!"
"Omega!"
Omega turned his head as he watched you run over to him and cling onto his leg.
"(y/n), what are you doing here? Do the others know that you came with me?" Omega asked as he picked you up and carried you in his arms, your earring swaying side to side with each step he took.
"I don't want you to go so I hid from the others and came with you. I also want to see Sumeru." you replied, not knowing about the chaos that is happening back at the palace.
Omega only sighed and shook his head, walking on ahead and ignoring the stares he was getting from the fatui soldiers accompanying him.
"You know Prime is going to be very upset that you left without informing him." Omega stated as he felt you tense up in his hold.
"I don't want him to be upset.. I don't want to be neutralized.." you muttered. You didn't want Prime to neutralize you, you don't even know what he meant by that but you could only think of it as a punishment. Meanwhile Omega was surprised to hear you use the term. He knows Prime would never do that to you. Sure you may be an accident-prone child but your current knowledge and views about Teyvat helped them with their research.
You are definitely fit to be Dottore's apprentice and every segment can give a reason why.
"You won't be neutralized, dear. As long as you listen to what I tell you while we're here then I'll give you a tour of Sumeru, hm?" Omega suggested, making you look up at him with a nod.
"I'll even show you the ruin guards that Prime used to tinker with back then." Omega added with a hum as he heard you squeal in excitement.
Curiosity cannot kill the cat, the segments are here to watch her back.
#dottore x reader#genshin impact#genshin impact x reader#dottore#zandik x reader#il dottore#gender neutral reader
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Fall Into Me - Chapter Four: Until I had met you there was no sun in my sky
dbf!Joel x f!reader
Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.
Story is inspired by the song Fall Into Me by Forest Blakk. Chapter titles will be lyrics from the song.
Word Count: 3.5k
Chapter Warnings: Mature, under 18 take a hike. No outbreak AU. Lots of feelings, confusion, and self doubt. Two idiots falling and pining for each other, but there's a little bit of progress. Tommy is the hero in this chapter. Age gap of about 9 years (Reader 24/25, Joel 33/34). No use of y/n. Reader has a nickname used only by her dad. Emily is modeled after my sister and JB is based on my dad, who used to try setting me up with his younger work buddies when I was in my 20s :)
Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics
Thank you for reading this little tale! I did not expect all the love - my heart is fit to burst over all the wonderful comments and reblogs!
Chapter Three | Main Masterlist
Sleep evaded Joel Saturday night, his mind unable to shut down and rest. He spent half the night searching for words to fit what he was experiencing. The right one didn’t occur to him until nearly five o’clock in the morning.
Turmoil.
That was the perfect word to describe the utter confusion and uncertainty boiling inside him.
His date went about as well as could be expected when one wasn’t particularly interested in the other person. There was conversation, but it mostly revolved around Annica and her interests. She asked a few polite questions about Joel but didn’t seem too interested in his responses. To be fair, they were short and rather ineloquent, but he barely had the chance to talk about Sarah before the woman changed the subject. She was also very much not his type.
She wasn’t you.
That’s the part which caused the most turmoil.
Joel didn’t realize how quickly he was falling for you until he was on a date with someone else. It somehow felt like a betrayal toward you, even though you and Joel weren’t together. Even though you didn’t even know that he liked you, more than liked you.
This entire thing was eating him up inside, all your interactions since Friday, but especially the way you bolted from him last night. He didn’t understand what happened until he checked out his face in the mirror, your parting comment finally making sense.
Annica had kissed him goodnight when he dropped her off. He knew she wanted more, at least a real kiss, but he offered nothing other than a loose hug and brief thanks for joining him. So, she pressed her painted lips to his cheek for several moments too long, subtly trying to turn his face toward hers, before he finally stepped back and walked away. He didn’t even wait for her to get into her house safely.
To his dismay, she left a clear and distinct reminder of her on his cheek that he was not aware of until you mentioned it. His face burned with the feeling of being marked like territory, and the worst part was you saw it. Who the fuck knew what you thought of him now.
Joel needed advice, someone to talk this all through with. If the situation didn’t involve you, he would have gone to you for advice. You were so easy to talk to and he opened up more easily with you than he had with anyone else in his entire life. But that was out of the question for… obvious reasons.
Your dad was equally as easy to talk to, a quality you must have inherited from him. But he couldn’t turn to JB about this for the same obvious reasons.
That left his brother. Tommy would give Joel a good ribbing about all this. Joel wasn’t ashamed to admit that his brother had more practical experience with dating and complicated relationships, especially recently, than he did. It was time to capitalize on all of Tommy’s shenanigans.
Dangerously under-caffeinated and bleary-eyed, Joel made bacon, eggs, and pancakes for the usual Sunday morning family breakfast. Tommy joined them a little after nine o’clock and helped himself to the spread. He knew better than to ask Joel about his date in front of Sarah, so the younger brother made quiet conversation with Sarah as Joel sipped at his coffee. She told him all about her adventure to the movies with you and how much she loved hanging out with you, how smart you were, and how pretty.
A stupid grin spread over Joel’s face as his daughter spoke about you. He could feel Tommy’s narrowed gaze burning into the side of his head, which he ignored until Sarah finished her food and ran off to play a video game in the living room.
“You gonna make me ask?” Tommy grinned at Joel as he cleared the table. Joel merely quirked a brow and focused on washing the dishes. “Fine, ya ol’ grumpy ass. How was the date?”
“Was alright. She talked, a lot,” Joel emphasized, “and mostly about herself. We don’t have much in common other than we like to eat. The movie she picked to see was God awful. I’d rather have seen the other movie with Sarah.”
“Really?” Tommy placed the last of the dirty flatware next to the sink, watching as Joel scrubbed each item before rinsing it off. “Annica texted me that she had a wonderful time and hoped there’d be a second date. Asked if I could put in a good word for her. Guess that’s not happenin’.”
“There’d be no point. She’s not who I’m interested in.” The words were out of his mouth before he realized what he was saying, and he cringed when Tommy latched right on them.
“Ohhhh, and who might you be interested in, dear brother?” The shit-eating grin on the younger brother’s face let Joel know that Tommy already had an idea on who piqued his interest. “Couldn’t be JB’s hot little daughter, could it? You going cradle robbin’ now?”
Punching his brother in the arm, hard, Joel growled. “I ain’t robbin’ any cradles, asshole. She’s only about nine years younger than me.”
“Oh, is that all?” Tommy teased, rubbing his arm to soothe the sting.
“Don’t get me started on how you almost got busted for statutory rape last year, dickhead.”
“Hey now, I’m just teasing. Don’t get your panties all in a bunch.” Tommy surrendered, adding a grumbled, “And you know damn well that wasn’t on purpose. That girl looked 25! She sure had me fooled.”
Joel nodded, heading out to the back patio with another cup of coffee. Tommy followed, stopping briefly to grab a can of soda from the fridge. The pair sat quietly listening to the sound of songbirds singing the songs of their people before Joel finally spoke.
“I feel like an idiot asking this, but how do you tell if a woman is into you?”
Tommy nearly spilled soda all down the front of himself, the question caught him so off-guard. “Whadda ya mean?” he spluttered, trying not to choke on the carbonated liquid.
Rolling his big brown eyes with a huff, Joel glared at his brother. “I mean just what I said. I’m so outta practice with this. I keep second guessin’ everything. I just don’t know…”
Taking pity on his older brother, Tommy refrained from razzing him further. He was intrigued by this version of his brother who lacked self-confidence, so different from the over-confident man Joel used to be, at least when it came to women.
“Just so I understand, do you want to know how to tell if any woman is into you or a specific woman?”
Brows pulling together, Joel stared at Tommy blankly for a moment. “Does it make a difference?”
Tommy’s lips spread into a wide grin, deep brown eyes sparkling mischievously. “It sure as hell does, brother. There are few key ways to tell with most women, but if it’s a specific woman you’re curious about, I may have some intel.”
The struggle to hide his overwhelming curiosity on the ‘intel’ his brother had was a losing game, and Joel relented, his cheeks growing hot as he uttered the words. “Fine. It’s JB’s daughter.”
The room stilled as the brothers stared at each other, the grin on Tommy’s face growing impossibly wider until nearly all his pearly whites were on display. “I knew it! You dirty dog.”
“Tommy,” Joel growled, drawing out the two syllables until his brother sat back in his chair with a satisfied smirk.
“Fine, no razzin’.” Tommy grumbled. He waited a few beats until Joel grew even more uncomfortable. “She’s into you, too.”
Joel perked up at that. “That’s your intel? How do you know?”
Looking around the backyard, Tommy thought of all the times he’d been around and caught you ogling his brother when you thought no one was watching, but none rivaled that time in the kitchen when you stared as Joel pulled his tee shirt off to put in on right side out. Tallying it all up in his mind, Tommy was certain that you had a thing for his brother. And now, it seemed he had a thing for you, too.
The question Tommy had now was, would either of you do anything about it?
With recent history as proof, he had his doubts.
Perhaps it was time to give you each a little nudge.
“It’s in the way she looks at you, all wide-eyed with wonder, like she’s imagining what it’d be like to be with you. I flirted with her for nearly an hour one day and she never looked at me like that once.” Tommy smirked at the glassy look that overcame his brother’s eyes. “Well, that and the drool dripping down her chin every time she sees you.”
“Yeah… wait, what?” It took a moment for Joel to catch on. “Fuckin’ asshole, I swear. She doesn’t drool when she looks at me.”
Laughter rumbled from deep within Tommy’s chest. “She might as well do with as into you as she is. I’m telling you, pay attention to how she is around you and you’ll see.”
The brothers fell silent again with Joel’s thoughts drowning in you. If what Tommy said was true, then you must be hurting over the fact that he went on a date with someone else, more so since you also saw him on that date. Already feeling like such a dick, worry over you weighed more heavily on him this morning. He had to fix this, but how?
Part of Joel wanted to rush over to JB’s and check on you, but the other part was terrified of how that would work out, especially if your dad was home and wanted to know why his best friend was frantic to see his daughter.
Shit. JB. Joel still needed to figure out how to navigate that part of this entire situation. The two of you could like each other all day long, but how would JB react?
Joel envisioned several scenarios that ended with him getting his nose bashed in by your old man. He wasn’t looking forward to that.
“What about JB?” Joel finally broke the silence, looking once again to his younger brother for guidance. “If I’m gonna do this, I want to do it right.”
Placing his empty bottle on the patio table between them, Tommy nodded. “Ok. Let’s think about this. Do you always check with a chick’s dad before askin’ her out?”
“’Course not, but this is different.”
“I get that but hear me out. What if you try before you buy?” Tommy asked.
Joel immediately stiffened. “I’m not gonna just fuck her before asking her on a date. Jesus, Tommy.” Not that he didn’t want to fuck you… he most certainly did, but Joel wanted to do this right. He wanted more than just sex. He wanted something meaningful, and he suspected you would as well.
“That’s not what I meant, asshole. Ya can quit clutchin’ your pearls like you ain’t banged a chick before the first date before.”
“Tommy,” Joel growled again. Little brothers were the worst no matter what age they were.
“Jeez, alright, fine. You’re really into her, I get it. I’m not sayin’ sleep with her first. I’m suggestin’ you ask her out and see where this is goin’ before you go to JB with your tail between your legs, is all.” Tommy explained, already getting fed up with how easily Joel got his feathers ruffled.
Considering the advice, and ignoring his brother’s snippy tone, Joel bobbed his head in a nod. “That’s not a bad idea, actually.”
“I’m full of good ideas, sometimes. I got another one, actually. Get your grumpy ass to the store and buy some new shirts. Everything you own is at least ten years old and worn down. You need to dress better if you’re gonna date a younger woman.”
Another point to Tommy. He sure was racking them up.
“Fine. I fuckin’ hate to admit it, but you’re right,” Joel grumbled, looking down at the tee shirt he was wearing. It used to be black and faded to a cloudy gray from years of wearing and washing. “You mind watchin’ Sarah for a while so I can run to the mall?”
“Not at all, brother. I was hoping to watch the game on your flat screen anyway.” Tommy led the way back inside the house.
Emily: Sounds like you need some retail therapy, asap.
The pair of you spent the past hour texting about Joel’s date the night before. Emily’s emoji reactions were priceless as you recounted seeing them together at the movie theater and she was pissed on your behalf when you told her about the lipstick mark on his cheek. The conversation came full circle before Emily suggested the retail therapy.
You: Omg do I ever. Mall?
Emily: I can’t ☹ Ed wants my help with the garden. Again. I swear, I hate this fucking garden.
You: Booo. How dare you pick your husband over me
Emily: I gotta go with the one who has the bigger dick. Ur girl has needs u know that 😉
You: Yeah yeah. Chat later?
Emily: You bet. Have fun. Buy lots!
An hour later, you walked through Barton Creek Square, window shopping with a chocolate smoothie clutched in your hand. Not sure exactly what you were in the mood for, you started with clothing. This mall was a bit upscale for your budget, but you always enjoyed perusing the department store discount racks. Tossing your empty cup into the garbage can, you entered the large store.
Somehow, you found yourself searching through flannel shirts in the men’s department. Stopping for a moment once you realized what you were doing, you sighed. There was no escaping thoughts of Joel Miller, even subconsciously, it seemed. Huffing in frustration, you turned to walk back to the women’s section where you’d find things you actually needed when you heard your name.
Joel stood on the other side of the rack, eyes wide with surprise at the sight of you. His cheek was clean, no lipstick mark in sight, you noted. Just the normal, totally endearing patchy scruff. “Hey darlin’, what are you doing here?”
“Shopping,” you stated the obvious with a shrug, delighted at the pink tinge creeping up his cheeks.
“Me, too. Obviously.” Joel nodded, rolling his eyes – at you or himself, you weren’t sure. “I could use your help, actually.”
You weren’t expecting that. He looked at you with such open hope in his eyes, you couldn’t deny him. “Ok, shoot.” Your heart nearly exploded at the smile that spread across his face, putting his dimple on full display.
“I can’t decide which of these to go with,” Joel replied, holding up several flannels. After a moment, he put those across the top of the discount rack and held up a pile of tee shirts. “Or these.”
Eyes taking in the details of each selection – he had good taste; you could picture each option on him – you hummed. “Have you tried any of them on?” Joel shook his head, the mop of curls swaying deliciously with the movement. “Ok. Go try them on. That’s usually how I decide.”
Turning toward the fitting room with a nod, Joel paused and turned back around. “Come with me? I need your honest opinion on each one.”
Brow furrowed, you followed behind him wordlessly, eyes straying to his backside of their own accord. He wore the same dark, fitted jeans as last night and you swore beneath your breath at yet another reminder of his date. No amount of staring at his nice ass could pull that jealous feeling from your gut. He went on a date with someone and for all you knew, it could have been the best damn date of his entire damn life.
Leaning back against the wall opposite the fitting room Joel chose, you crossed your arms in front of your chest and wondered what the hell you were doing. You came to the mall for a distraction, to treat yourself and get your mind off the man on the other side of the fitting room door. Now you were… what? His wardrobe consultant?
Helping Joel pick out new clothes seemed like the job of a girlfriend, not his daughter’s babysitter. Let’s face it, you thought, that’s all you were to him. Mood growing sourer by the second, you startled as the door ripped open in front of you.
“What do you think?”
The universe was a fickle bitch. It wasn’t fair that Joel stood there looking like the man of your dreams and you didn’t get to call him yours.
The first shirt Joel tried on fit like a glove, like the factory made it with his frame as the model in mind. The material had just the right amount of stretch across the breadth of his chest and shoulders, while hanging on for dear life around his biceps.
After ogling him for far too long, your eyes finally met Joel’s. “Looks good,” you said, the cadence of your voice not giving away the riotous flutter of desire flaring to life deep in your lower belly. “Let’s see the next one.”
Chocolate eyes sparkled with delight at your response as Joel slipped back into the fitting room. What you wouldn’t give to follow him in there. Already picturing it in your mind, you would slip to your knees in front of him, fingers undoing his belt and the button of his jeans before slowly sliding the zipper down. You’d wind one hand inside his pants to trace the curve of his cock through his boxer briefs before slipping the length of him out of the little secret pocket. Joel would be trying on his shirts as your lips—
“How about this one?”
“Jesus fucking nutcracker!” you exclaimed, Joel’s voice jolting you right out of that wonderful little daydream. So deep into the fantasy, you hadn’t heard the fitting room door open.
Concerned, Joel reached out a hand, his calloused fingertips and palm running over the bare skin of your forearm as you steadied yourself. “Do, uh… do you have Tourette’s or something?”
Bemused, you blinked up at him, head thumping back against the wall. “What? No, no. I was just lost in thought, and you startled me.”
“Not that there’s anything wrong with having Tourette’s, you know.” Joel tripped over himself to make sure you didn’t think he was making fun of the disorder.
You waved him off. “Of course not.” Clearing your throat, eyes closing to recenter yourself, you counted to ten. The heat of Joel’s gaze like a burn on your skin, you opened your eyes and assessed his shirt. It was nice, a deep burgundy color, but the fit differed from the last one. You hated it. “I like the way the other one fit you better.”
The pattern continued until Joel tried on every shirt in his pile. You managed to keep your mind from straying again by making conversation.
“How did your date go last night?” You dreaded the answer but needed to know.
“It was… I’ve had better dates. She talked a lot,” he said through the fitting room door. “I couldn’t wait for it to be over, honestly. I just wanted to be home.”
“So, no second date then?” you confirmed, butterflies beginning to take flight in your belly.
“Hell no.”
A wave of relief washed over you at the conviction in Joel’s voice, but you tried not to let it show on your face or in your voice as he stepped through the door. “That’s too bad. You deserve to find someone great, Joel.”
He looked at you for a long time, his eyes penetrating like he was trying to tell you something without using words. You just had no idea what. You were about to bid him farewell as he paid for the shirts you chose – the bluish gray tee shirt that fit him so well and a flannel with similar hues, and two more just like them – when he stopped you.
“Uh, would you have lunch with me?” he asked shyly, eyes brimming with such eager hopefulness you nearly melted.
Part of you wanted to turn him down over hurt feelings he wasn’t even aware of, but you couldn’t. Not after what he just told you about his date. The other part of you screamed not to read too much into it, that he wasn’t asking you on a date. It would just be lunch with your boss. But the final part of you, the hopeless romantic who wore her heart on her sleeve and just helped the man pick out clothes like a girlfriend would, screamed that this could be your chance to get closer, that it could be a date if you made it one.
Fearing you stayed silent too long arguing with yourself, you rushed out a quick, “Sure.” Joel’s face lit up like you’d never seen before. He didn’t look anywhere near this happy when he left for his dinner date the night before.
tbc
Taglist: @mellymbee @untamedheart81 @anoverwhelmingdin @runningmom94 @leilanixx @pedropascalfan221 @lovelyjess69 @sarahhxx03 @sofiparallel @tammythr @lulawantmula @islacharlotte @allyourfavesinoneblog @lover-of-books-and-tea @pedropascalsbbg @ashleyfilm @brittmb115 @lilmizmoz @loveisacowboyyy @shotgun-shelby @deninoe
#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel x female reader#the last of us#tlou#dbf!joel#Fall Into Me#pedro pascal#eventual smut#mutual pining#idiots falling for each other
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Sunflower
Flowers series part III
Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV
Warnings: Fluff, heartbreak, mentions of toxic relationships (azriel and reader), helion being the kindest person alive.
Summary: Once you had arrived at Day Court, Helion had not let you out of his sight, it was a change you liked. Someone caring for you.
a/n this is pure fluff and comfort (a lot like a filler chapter) but it’s helion so 🫶🏻
Helion had an aura to him that showed he was confident, but when talking to me his aura softened.
I could feel it. Maybe he was just being nice. Probably trying to maintain court relationships. But it was nice to have all the attention to me for once.
He was everything. Everything that I thought I wouldn’t need. Everything Azriel had promised but never given me.
I had spent an embarrassingly long amount of time crying on his shoulder. But never once did he brush me off, put my feelings aside. I hadn’t even thought of Azriel and I’s relationship to be improper.
Hadn’t realised that he was playing me all along.
I used to love moonflowers, especially the ones that were a blue so dark it could be the night sky. They had reminded me of Azriel.
But now when I was sitting with Helion on the balcony and he asks me what my favourite flower is, I can’t seem to get ‘moonflower’ out. The word turns sour in my mouth.
“Sunflower,” I blurt out.
“It used to be a moonflower” I sigh, never being able to lie to the day high lord.
“Why used to?” he questions softly.
He was always like this, gently speaking, making sure to never cross boundaries.
“It reminded me of Azriel,” I say.
“That’s funny” he laughs.
Yes he’s laughing. Bewildered, I look up at him.
“Why are you laughing?” I question.
“It’s funny because I love moonflowers” he chuckles.
“Why?” I ask louder this time.
“I saw them once in Night Court, and they were beautiful but I like them more now because they remind me of you,” he confesses.
I rear my head back, an incredulous expression on my face, “Of me?”.
He simply nods, “Why do you like sunflowers?”.
My cheeks flood with colour, “Because they remind me of you,” I mumble out.
A blanket of silence is thrown over the room.
“Sorry I shouldn’t have said that, I’ll get going now,” I whisper.
I basically told him I liked him and he said nothing.
Gods Y/N how stupid could you be. He’s a fucking high lord, and a good looking one at that (unlike Beron), he could have anyone why would he want you. A used girl, discarded and trashed by the one person she opened up to.
Tears well up on my waterline, threatening to spill.
I gasp when a strong hand wraps around my wrist and pulls me into his chest.
Helion looks about ready to burn the world down. His eyes soften when he takes in my vulnerable expression.
“My love, why are you crying?” he hesitates but in the end, wipes a tear off my cheek.
“Look Helion, I’m sorry for what I said, let me go and I’ll leave and head back to Night Court,” I explain.
His gaze hardens, “You’re not going anywhere, because I want you here with me, the spymaster of their court is a fool for letting you go, you’re a goddess in the flesh, and I most likely would not deserve you in a hundred life times.”
I open my mouth to say something but he keeps going on.
“You’re skin is the colour of the moon, you’re eyes the stars and your hair the night itself, but your personality is the living embodiment of the sun. I would walk through hellfire if you were waiting for me on the other side. I would give you everything, even if you asked for Amarantha’s head on a stick. If only you were mine,” he finally finishes.
I stare at him in shock, I had overheard Azriel’s vows and they were nowhere near as beautiful as Helion’s.
“I’ll be yours if you’ll be mine,” I whisper. My mouth hangs open as something snaps in my chest, looking down I realise how close I am to Helion, a short golden thread between us.
“Mate”
a/n IF ONLY YOU WERE MINE anyway helions such a dilf
taglist: taglist: @esposadomd @impossibelle @acotarfics-mharmie009 @stqrgirlies-blog @balam-sen @cumuluscranium @witchymomfrien
@historygeekqueen @wallacewillow0773638 @wickedfelinaxo @mybestfriendmademe @to-be-written @highladyofterrasen98 @minnieoo
(striked out means i couldn’t tag you)
#acourtofswiftiesandshadowdaddies#acotar#acotar series#book#a court of silver flames#a court of thorns and roses#azriel acotar#azriel shadowsinger#azriel x reader#azriel x reader angst#helion x you#helion acotar#helion spell cleaver#high lord helion#helion x reader#azriel#10/10 with everyone#feyre x rhysand#rhysand#rhysand sister#helion fluff#helion loml#sjm books#sjmaas#sjm#sarah j maas#maasverse#acotar fandom#acotar fanfic#love
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Two's company, three's a family - Part one
Summary: As a cupid, an angel of love, your mission was to make sure everyone was paired up with the right person. Yet you couldn't get your two most ancient clients to finally end up together. And despite the 6,000 years spent on the case, you couldn't bring yourself to give them up, not oblivious to the reason.
Pairing: Aziraphale x Crowley / GN!Reader x Crowley / GN!Reader x Aziraphale (polyamorous relationship).
Masterlist : Here
Warnings: foul language, alcohol use, slow burn, english isn't my first language.
Words : +3k word
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
You were mopping around, wondering how the fuck you still hadn't managed to get those two sugar-rotten bird brains to get together ! You ran your hands through your hair and went down to rub your face. You reached for your glass and drank down every last drop.
6,000 bloody years you spent with them, and nothing !
So much work for no true result.
And, just for the record, you wanted to insist that you are really good at your job.
No, you weren't bragging; you really were ! A lot of cupids were cruel little things, and it had to do with the fact that you feed on the love a person feels for another. And since it didn't have to be reciprocated, most preferred to work less—well, smarter—rather than harder. But you just loved love stories. Of any kind, really ! Motherly, fatherly, between siblings, friends... Nevertheless, being able to form a perfect match and seeing the joy you brought to others always filled you with joy.
A cupid is just a specific type of angel meant to spread love all over the world. Which included humans, animals, and supernatural beings such as demons and angels. However, your peers weren't your favourites. They were too focused on their jobs, being either neutral towards each other or straight-up hateful. And hate tasted too bitter to your liking.
Which was probably the reason why you were so interested in Aziraphale and Crowley's relationship to begin with. They were so friendly and caring that something inside you just clicked. Even if their love story was the slowest burn you ever encountered, you couldn't bring yourself to give up.
Hell no ! Mmh, no. You were too stubborn to accept your failure. Yes, failure. Because despite spending every moment with them (well, when they were together) and using so many arrows, those two just wouldn't come together ! And to make sure your bow and arrows worked, you almost paired up every goddamn duck at St. James Park.
Nothing worked ! Nothing !
Ugh, so annoying...
In your case, the only connection you seem to have in this vast universe is with the pub and your drink... And to the generations of barmen you complained to.
"How can someone be so oblivious ?" Your drunken words slipping out of your mouth without anyone to talk to.
"Tell me about it." A voice said next to you.
Oh, you recognised the voice alright; you just didn't feel like engaging in a conversation with anyone right now. Still, you were polite enough to acknowledge their presence.
"Hi Mihael." You mumbled.
"Good evening to you too, Y/N !" She chirped, her voice too positive for you to appreciate right now. You groaned and rested your head on your arms.
"What do you want ? It's not your type to be staying down there once your shift's over," you said before looking up at her.
Her dark pink eyes were scanning the pub warily. You rolled your eyes, her attitude reminding you how atypical you've become. Being among humans, eating food, or even walking on earth was something Cupid didn't do. Flying around was the most common attitude, as was having really limited contact with humans, or "clients," as Archangel Chamuel calls them. But you loved your time on earth with every creature, though eating ex-living animals isn't your thing. And being a freak was actually something you were doomed to be. You knew you were different from other mystical beings, and it was really fucking lonely.
"You're right ; I don't know how you can stand all the smells and, ugh, sensations." She shuddered.
You sighed, waiting as patiently as you could in that moment.
"But I guess you should enjoy as much as you can while you can."
What ? Why would she say that ? Did you do something wrong ? Did they realize you... No. And they never noticed that you spent your time with a demon (angels were obliviously okay) and tried to match up said demon with Aziraphale. Did they finally catch up ? Or were they upset that you mostly lived with humans ? No, you are almost the best cupid, producing so much love, as proved by how many ducks you shot.
"M-Mh.. sure.. but, mmh.. I didn't know my time on earth was on a timer." You tried to joke lightly, which was heavily ineffective in calming your nerves.
"Of course not silly," she beamed. "Armageddon is coming !"
"Wha-" you sat up, almost tumbleling down. "Already ? Are you sure ?"
"Affirmative ! The anti-Christ is being delivered as we speak."
"Oh, great..."
You just wanted to cry right here and now, but you really couldn't afford to. It would be crossing a line.
It wasn't fair. You still had so much to experience on earth and so many love stories to create, and you wanted to spend so much more time with Crowley and Aziraphale. They still needed to be together ! You couldn't let the End begin before you even saw the beginning of their love story. No, uh-hu! You will go down with this ship!
"How long before Armageddon ?" you asked.
"Oh, I would say around ten years."
Alright, you could do it. You just had to help two opposite beings, who spend almost all their existence together without technically being a couple, become one. Because how thing should be. And you had ten years to do so, even if you hadn't succeeded in the last 6,000 years. It could work ! You knew them and their love for humankind and their world. They would certainly team up to prevent the war and apocalypse from happening. And you were there to help. In every way. You scratched your itchy right arm.
"Right, sure... well, thanks, Mihael. Send my regards to Adriel."
"I will, thank you ! Oh, and Chamuel ordered that we lay off all the workers during the last week before the war, so we could be ready to fight."
"Mmh-hm." You nodded. Alcohol was messing up your communication skills.
"Great ! See you at the war."
When you turned, she was gone, leaving you wondering how you'd end up like this.
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
(4004 av-JC)
In the beginning, you were in the Garden of Eden. You were here to supervise Adam and Eve's love development; you didn't shoot the arrow, though. They would have never let you do it anyway. Actually, every creature in the Garden had been paired up, but you didn't get the chance to create any of them. As disappointed as you were, you were not the type to overstep and you couldn't express anything. So you decided to be patient and walk around the garden discretely.
You suddenly came to a stop when you spotted something unusual slithering around the diversity of plants. You walked up to a 'lilac' tree, which looked more like a bush than anything else, and you saw an animal that was crawling on the trunk among the beautiful purple flowers. The creature was so long yet flexible that it didn't have any problem staying on such a small platform. His colours intrigued you too—mostly black with touches of red—and you had never seen anything like this quite yet. Your eyes widen, and you slightly rush to observe it further. The snake, while taken aback, didn't move and instead glared at you. His eyes were so beautiful and golden, and his scales were spotless and sleek, but touching the poor thing would certainly scare him away.
"What a beautiful thing you are... I'm glad God decided to make you !"
The creature started to retreat as soon as your words passed your lips, looking flustered. Declining his embarrassment, you chirped hapily. And with a glimmering smile, you resumed roaming around the paradise.
The wall was growing bigger and bigger as I approached one of the gates of Eden, curious to see the border and maybe get a peek on the other side—a glimpse of the barren and dry land. You were an inquisitive thing; your curiosity was way stronger than your fear. Despite anyone says or believe. But as you gently approached the door, someone called you.
"Mh, excuse me ! Little cupid ?"
Oh ! You weren't that small ! Pff, guardian angels could be so strict sometimes.
You rolled your eyes, soared up in the sky, and let yourself turn upside down to see who was interrupting your investigation.
"Yes ?" you sighed. "Mh !"
You weren't acquainted with lots of angels outside your group, but you were sure that you had already seen him before. His appearance was so welcoming, despite the raging, flaming sword that carefully remained in his firm grip. His hair was white and as fluffy as a cloud. You couldn't quite grasp his eye colour, though, which was always changing between blue, brown, and green. His human body was round and large, a body type you'd never seen before. Yet you smiled at his soft appearance. His tunic seemed to be slightly covered with bright purple petals here and there. You turned over, lying on your stomach in midair, looking at him expectantly.
"Hello." He smiled, then took a ragged breath, looking for words. "Mh, I'm afraid I must request that you not go closer to that gate."
You looked away, apologetic.
"Oh, I see... Sorry."
You were conscious of how leaving your station could get you in trouble, and being so close to the door could bring him problems as well. You sensed how agitated he was and went on to leave him in peace.
"Well, mh, good luck with, huh, guarding the door," you said, trying to look less churlish than the way you acted merely seconds ago.
"Oh well, that's kind of you." He smiled, touched by your words. "Good luck with all the love."
Seeing how thrilled he seemed made you happy. Your body was taken over by the intense emotion in your heart, and you began to fly while looping and spinning vigorously.
Suddenly, you stopped. You've never experienced anything like it. Your primary role as a cupid was to make matches between creatures by shooting them with arrows. Your vision allowed you to perceive the chances of happiness and love each creature could produce while bound by the other. There were hundreds of possibilities, and your job is to make sure your "client" finds the perfect match. In order to do so, you had to be able to identify each emotion with clarity and precision. Minimising your own emotions to work in the most efficient way possible Thus, you shouldn't feel too much emotion despite the satisfaction of your good job and all the love you could eat. And in your case, anything...
Feeling such a rush of emotion shouldn't be something you're capable of doing. You shouldn’t be feeling anything. You observed your right hand, confused and visibly shaking. Closing your eyes, feeling irrated at yourself, you marched back to where you came, hoping to find new animals to shoot to occupy your mind.
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
Adam and Eve were gone. Apparently, a snake—well, a demon—tempted the first human, and now they had to leave the garden. Just because they wanted answers to their questions. Needless to say, you weren't very keen to try and look beyond the wall without permission.
So you were simply floating in the air right next to the wall, waiting for an order from your Boss. Gazing up at the sky, you noticed how its blue colour darkened as the first rain approached. You sighed and decided to just go back to Heaven, hoping you'd finally get the chance to shoot at someone. Some may call you obsessive; you prefer the term persistent.
As you were sitting up and flying up. And the moment you saw the tall structure disappearing in the corner of your eye, you kept going up. But, afraid you might regret not gazing back, you dared to dart your eyes down to the rest of the world.
"Huh?" you softly gasped.
You saw the desert spreading from your heart to the horizon, arid and lonely, with the clouds darkening the land. Your heart ached as you watched what lay ahead. And as you felt your eyes water, you lowered your gaze. And the sight that welcomed me was so out of this world yet felt so... right.
An angel and a demon stood next to each other, talking and fraternising. You didn't really fight the war, but you knew how both sides hated each other. The metallic taste was already way too familiar in your mouth. But the premise of their relationship already smelled so sweet, despite a wisp of sourness.
A wave of euphoria struck you in the most unexpected way, and the sensations it brought you were simply too delightful to feel queer. You saw their bound, so precise and distinct, that you nearly thought you were a part of it. It just felt so real. So good.
You were so excited ! You beamed with all your might as you desperately tried to manifest your bow and arrows as quickly as possible.
As a novice in archery, you wanted to correctly seal the bound, so you decided to place three arrows because, like no one has said yet, "Three times' the charm". You aimed leisurely, breathing deeply and checking the quality of your multi-coloured arrows. The grey head of it is silently hurrying you to shoot.
And so you did. With a faint whistle, the arrows raced towards their target. The first one landed right in the back of the demon, on his left side. The second was pierced lower, in the calf of the angel. It didn't even hurt them; it was a great shot, really.
You retracted your arm, proud of yourself.
Then, you simply went straight back to Heaven. Still, the sky looked so dark, and the rain started to pour down on your cheeks.
And you don’t know why, but a profound need to seek comfort made you look down one last time. The guardian had stretched out his wing for the demon to hide under. So thoughtful, so caring, so warm...
You left after your first match was a success.
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
(Present days)
You later learned that matching an angel and a demon was strictly forbidden. You blushed at the thought, embarrassed. Yet you couldn't bring yourself to abandon the relationship. Well, now you had to be super efficient if you wanted that ship to sail at all.
You drank down your last glass of your favourite alcohol, paid for your decent amount of beverages, and wobbled yourself towards the Aziraphale bookshop.
You weren't always invisible when you dealt with them; you gave yourself plenty of time with them along the way. They were aware that you were an angel, just not the exact type. You don't think they mind your company, but you prefer to limit your interactions.
However, you were running out of time, and you really didn't want to miss a thing. You hummed the song that sneaked into your head on your way. Once you arrived in front of the door, you tried to stabilise yourself by resting your whole weight on it. And you tumbled down into the shop. In your defence, the door was always closed !
Aziraphale and Crowley both looked towards you, shocked. Well, Crowley was more amused than anything. You rasped into the carpet and pivoted your head to greet them profusely.
"Hellooo !" you exclaimed, your tone drowsy.
"Y/N ? Why, dear, what are you doing here ?" Aziraphale promptly came to your side, helping you up.
"On the floor ? Well, I obviously just fell," you jested. You felt weightless as Crowley joined you two to carry you somewhere other than the dusty floor.
"So, you heard about the End of the world, I presume?" Crowley asked. They both let you down slowly on your assigned divan. You felt a hand brush a lock of hair out of your eye.
"Mmh." You rolled on your side to face them as they sat down on the opposite side. You'll have to work on that too.
"Yeah, someone mentioned it..." you waved. A few moments passed in silence. You guffawed when you noticed the bottle settled on the table.
"Sorry, it seems I had a bit of a head start, but go on!" You laid down on your back. "I'll wait for you to catch up"
Aziraphale shot a slight disapproving look in your direction, pouting a little, while Crowley reached eagerly for the bottle.
"Don't mind if I do," he said as he poured himself a large drink.
Shortly after, the angel followed you two. Alright, setting up the mood... This silly matter is going to be settled in a matter of hours now! You were perfectly capable of doing so. Aziraphale raised his glass to you, and you flashed your teeth. They don't know what's going their way.
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
And they didn't, because your smartass decided to evacuate all the liquor from your body by sleeping.
Now, as you wake up, they're talking about dolphins. Oh, sure, what adorable and romantic sociopaths they are. It's obviously the best choice of conversation !
"Everything will just turn into bouillaba-bouil... bouilla..."
You sat up, pushing away a blanket, and listened to those dorks trying to pronounce bloody "Boui-...llabai...." Well, that dish !
"Fish stew," you concluded.
"Anyway," Crowley said with a weary tone. "It's not their fault. And that's the same with gorillas! They'll say : 'Woop, the sky's gone red! Stars crashing down ! What do they put in bananas these days ?!'" His drunkenness struck you, and you realised what Armagadon really meant.
"All the creatures..." you started.
"Whether they'd be great or small..." Aziraphale ended.
You both looked distraught. You loved all those little things; you spent countless hours discovering every one of them. The first time you saw a whale, you got so emotional that you cried. Thankfully, you were underwater, so Aziraphale, who came with you that day, didn't see your unusual sensitivity.
"And there's worse ! When it's all over, we're going to have to deal with eternity !" he yelled, his voice squeaking like that of a chipmunk.
"Eternity ?" Aziraphale wondered, disoriented. He didn't quite understand why on earth Eternity would be worse than the End itself.
"You're just upset you won't be able to listen to musicals, while we will," you teased.
"And you'll miss my very constructive critics, especially on The Phantom Of The Opera !"
"You utterly roasted it !"
You were ready to argue your arse off, but Aziraphale had his own things to say.
"I don't like it more than you do. I can't disobey... I've got to do what I'm told... right Y/N ?" He asked for your support.
"Mmh nh.. Yes, sure, but I don't think they pay attention to these sorts of things." You suddenly gagged. You weren't sure that giving back the liquor to the bartender was such an idea, but you couldn't afford to throw up.
"Maybe we should sober up."
They both agreed and quickly got sober.
"Listen, even if I wanted to help you, we just can't." Aziraphale explained while glancing at you, once again to encourage him.
"It's true, Crowley, we're angels. We cannot interfere with God's plan," you said, lying back on the couch.
"But what about Satan's plan, mh ?" His red hair framed his head, and your eyes focused on his, snake-like and wide. His whole face was encouraging you to listen further.
"It's your job, right ? Thwarting the demonic plan. Encouraging humans to be "good", mmh ?"
"No need to quote..." you sulked.
"That's broadly what we do, indeed." Aziraphale conceeded.
"With that in mind, it would be totally reasonable for you to act on the birth of the Anti-Christ. To thwart my demonic influence on the child while he grows up. I'm the only one managing his evil upbringing. Against two angels with such pure hearts, I would highly struggle to stand my ground."
Wait up, two angels ? Uh, you were getting way too involved for the two of them to easily seal the deal. You needed a way out. Aziraphale was considering the idea, giving you enough time to hastily prepare a counterargument.
"M-mh, so much good energy would change the boy too much. Everyone will realise it. I think it's too much of a risk. No, it would be best if the two of you took care of him. You know, like, uh, godfathers !"
The pleased and hopeful look on the fluffy angel's face caused you to sigh in relief. Crowley, however, was frowning. You just grinned, gathering all your charm to erase any suspicion.
"Still, he's made to be evil; surely the influence of two angels wouldn't hurt."
Think of something. You had to get those two together !
"I'll be your safety net ! Assuring the Heavens that Aziraphale is doing an excellent job !" You gestured towards him, nervous and frantic. The angel flinched slightly but didn't say anything. You nodded and smiled before turning to Crowley.
"And ! I'll mess with other people's demon jobs ! Giving them plenty of things to keep their minds off the Anti-Christ's childhood." You clapped your hands and tied your lips together, praying it would be enough.
The demon was scanning your face, taking in what you just said and your attitude. Aziraphale then faced his friend and supported your plan by taking a place beside you.
"It would be safer and less noticeable." He placed a hand on your shoulder, and you looked up at him. When he noticed, he smiled in his reassuring way.
Meanwhile, Crowley had closed his eyes tightly, exhaling more air than normal humans actually had in their bodies. The dude's a balloon, apparently. His eyelids opened abruptly, and he offered his response.
"Ngh... fine."
Yay, victory.
"I can't believe I have to convince you to agree to a plan you created," you teased him.
"Er."
"It might work !" said Aziraphale happily. You hoped everything would go smoothly and that you could prevent the Earth from boiling, causing the destruction of either Hell or Heaven. You felt the angel almost wriggle next to you, and the demon smirked his way. Maybe it would be easier than you thought.
"Well, I'll be damned !" he exclaimed quietly. His brighting up the room.
"It's not so bad when you get used to it," Crowley answered mischievously.
And there it is. Hardships. Aziraphale lost his smile and looked at him with a warning. It really stuck in his craw.
"Crowley, don't they say thingz like that !" he scolded vigoursly.
"It's just a joke; don't make a big deal out of it." Crowley finally sat back, waving off Aziraphale's arguments. The angel took a step towards Crowley, standing in front of you. While he continued his rambling, the red head peeked your way and winked, obviously amused.
You rubbed your face with your hand but grinned as well. Easy ? Yeah, right.
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
This is the first chapter of this series : "Two’s company, three’s a family"
I hope you enjoyed it and will stay around to see how all of this will play out.
Bye !
Parts : Next
#good omens#good omens s2#crowley x aziraphale#crowley x reader x aziraphale#aziraphale x reader#crowley x reader#polyamory#david tennant#neil gaiman#micheal sheen#ineffable husbands#lgbtq#twoscompanythreesafamily
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Crowley's Effect on Reality
There is a headcanon that has been rattling around in my coconut for about a year, and now I've added to it. It's canon that Crowley has a reality-altering effect on his immediate surroundings; we see it in the cafe where he meets Shadwell and the TVs are showing The Witchfinder. Or when "You're My Best Friend" is playing in the Bentley and follows him into the burning bookshop to play on the gramophone. (Cinematography so seamless it actually took me several watches to notice, bless them all.)
So I've been wondering how far that extends, and I got to thinking about the baby swap. Crowley gives the baby to Sister Mary and tells her to take him to Room 3. Mary says this to Sister Grace, who tells her to get on with it, then. But Grace was the one who put the Youngs in Room 3! She of all the nuns should have been like, Wait a minute.
The obvious answer is obviously the nuns aren't bright and/or are too used to following orders to question it. But it would have made more sense to just have some random nun there, not the one most likely to catch a mix up before it happened. So this makes me wonder if it's not Crowley's ambient reality warp in action. Instead of playing a song reflecting his mood or a movie that reminds him of someone, the world is reflecting his deepest wish: he wants something to go wrong. Something that will give the world a fighting chance and ideally can't be traced directly back to him.
So that's what's been kicking around in my brain for about a year, and after watching season two and thinking about how RIDICULOUSLY OVERPOWERED these two idiots are, I'm starting to wonder how often this has happened before. A tiny little surreptitious half miracle set off alarms in heaven and works so well that it sends the most powerful angel in heaven racing to the scene to get control of the situation. That was a conscious effort; what have they gotten away with without even knowing what they were doing?
"I've been looking over your previous exploits" and what did you see, Metabitch? Did you see an angel and a demon hornswoggle the entire Host to save a couple of human children? Did you look more closely and wonder why even Michael (who is significantly sharper than Gabriel even on his best days) was taken in by their embarrassingly transparent magic act?
Then there's 1941, and I know there's a miracle blocker in the room when Aziraphale steals the photo, but does that work if it's unconscious? Bc it's not something they're trying to do, it's not a force of will being inflicted on reality; it's reality bending to reflect their wishes. Would a miracle blocker work? Genuinely do not know.
Season Two did NOT spend enough time talking about the power they can access together, we know almost nothing about it, and I think that's deliberate. I'm so fucking stoked for the next season, make it happen make it real.
#good omens#aziraphale#crowley#ineffable husbands#aziracrow#good omens 2#good omens season 2#crowley x arizaphale#aziraphale my beloved#good omens meta#25 lazarii#fan theory
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