#i hate these fucking books (affectionate)
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jesus christ rhat opinion is so stupid but its not that serious and i dint wanna argue rn
#not at any of u guys it was a “bcz u follow ____” thing#and its dumb fandom stuff#just older pjo fans and thejr over the top hatred of tsats for idk not beinf exactky like their fanfic and having a co-author#god forbid nico and will have actual personalities outside of “sunshine boi” and “depressed emo”#god forbid the inherent cringe (affectionate) of this series be a little too queer#god forbid rick listen to years of criticism on how he handled some rep nd got a co-author to help him out#god forbid that kids book wasnt directly catered to ur 25+ yr old tastes#god i hate these ppl and i hate how emotional my period gets me-#when ppl say “girls on their periods arent crazy or over-emotional rhats usually just misogyny” they were right#but i am not a girl and am infact crazy and over-emotional rn fuck you#at least its fandom discourse rn it could be worse-#ryan shut the fuck up
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Slow Horses season 3 is coming out soon and I'm so excited. I won't get to watch as it does because I watch it with my dad so I'll have to wait until I go home for the holiday, but I'm just thrilled that my favourite fuck-ups are back at it again.
#diana is included in the above-mentioned fuck-ups#i remember what you did in season 1 sweetheart#but also!! we're gonna see more ingrid from the looks of things#taverner and tearney and lamb i hate you all (affectionate)#god they are the worst people and i would truly despise them if they were real#but kristin scott thomas and sophie okonedo are hot so#i've only read the first book but i know this season is putting catherine in danger and i don't know if i (or the horses) can handle that#what will they do without the all-important keeper of the braincell?#anyway when I finally get to watch it i will become insufferable for a week or so. sorry
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Book accurate Bella Swan because I have an embarrassing special interest and I must inflict it on the public
#twilight#twilight books#twilight saga#bella swan#Bella swan drawing#book accurate#book accurate bella swan#drawing#illustration#fuck smeyer#btw#I drew this a long time ago but I made her fat bc I prefer drawing fat ppl but she’s canonically petite sad face#no body shaming here but she is a smeyer self insert and smeyer is plus sized#she’s so gangly I hate her (affectionate)#literally rewatched the first movie the entire time I drew this
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after i reblogged a post about character playlists i immediately went to spotify to listen to my snowbaz playlist and now i'm crying over fucking ricky montgomery because, ok. y'all cannot tell me baz pitch did not write my heart is buried in venice. this shit is so wayward son coded, i aM A MESS
youtube
#i hate these fucking books (affectionate)#wayward son#snowbaz#simon snow#baz pitch#valen and the void
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zombie essay is taking me to some weird places. i'm out here defending the ancient kandarian demon summoning book
#its for a larger argument that (hopefully) makes sense in context#the ev!/ dead came out at the birth of the satanic panic -> the panic demonized minority religious groups -> ev!/ dead also does that#by not examining why these ancient people might have used a demon summoning spell and by making the book scary etc etc#(sorry for censors hope its still legible. i dont want this to show up in tags and start discourse)#and i dont think its a coincidence that they chose a middle eastern origin for their ancient dark magic either!#therefore the movie upholds popular beliefs surrounding minority religions that would go on to spread throughout the 80s#but like. ultimately yeah i Am sitting here saying 'why dont we give the literal demon worshippers a chance'#sometimes as a humanities major im a parody of myself#levi.txt#am i saying the movie is inherently racist/xenophobic/etc and should be hated for that? not necessarily!#i actually like this series a lot! its goofy and fun#but i DO think its notable and interesting that it speaks to its contemporary moral panic in such specific ways#i wish i had space to also get into the second movie tho bc i find it FASCINATING that it chose to parody itself#right around the time its audience started questioning the panic and became absurd around the time it ended#like. the second film was released the SAME year the mcmartin trials started ending#by 1992 the third film was out and it was utter nonsense (affectionate) and the panic was largely dead in the water#i have a theory that the og trilogy KNOWS as a series that its identity is tied to that cultural moment. and that fucking rocks
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Would they or would they not catch you…
Dick: yes. 100% yes but he’s -no pun intended- a little bit of a teasing dick about it.
He will catch you but then act as though he’s going to drop you by loosening his grip, making you scream out of surprise and cling onto him tighter, all the while beaming that bright and beautiful smile of his as though he wasn’t about to willingly let you fall flat on your ass on multiple occasions.
‘I fucking hate you!’ You whined, smacking Dick on the bicep.
‘Oh do you now?’ Dick inquires as he slowly begins to losses his grip on you, smirking.
‘Did I say hate you? I meant love you, a lot! Please don’t drop me.’ You cried as you tightened your grip on his neck whilst struggling to keep your feet from touching the floor. ‘Awww I love you too gorgeous.’ Dick coos as he pressed kisses into your face as you could only glare at the cheeky bastard.
You hate him sometimes but you weren’t going to complain about the affection you were being given. So you guess you’ll suffer for now.
Side note: he might even try and see if you can catch him. 💀
Jason: He will catch you but makes it a big deal whenever he can. He loves holding you in his arms.
He could keep you in his arms forever if he could but knew that he can’t, so he settles for going about his day carrying you throughout the apartment instead.
‘You can put down any day now.’ You’d tell him but that only makes Jason tighten his grip on you as he moved in his makeshift library for a book to read.
‘No.’ He simply replied, scouring the many book titles in front of him in the hopes that one might speak to him. You pout. ‘What do you mean no?’ Jason then looks at you and says. ‘No means no. As in no I will not put you down because I do as I like and will not be told otherwise, so the cutie currently in my arms has to deal with it.’ He then smiles as he presses a kiss to your forehead before looking back towards the bookshelves.
You end up falling asleep in his arms and Jason couldn’t help but smile at how cute you were, even if you did look like the living dead.
Damian: says no but will in fact catch you without hesitation.
However if you do try to tease him about it, then he will drop you without a second thought. ‘You can catch yourself next time.’ He would say as he walks away, leaving you with a bruised ass. Titus -who saw the whole thing- would come up to you to make sure you weren’t genuinely hurt and encourage you to get up by nudging you with his head.
Don’t test him because he will do it and then act like the whole thing didn’t happen if you were to bring it up.
‘Dick.’ You’d say as you stood up.
‘I heard that.’ He’d call back, his voice echoing off the walls. ‘You were meant to.’ You reply. ‘And at least Titus came to check up on me to see if I wasn’t hurt.’ You’d add while scratching Titus behind the ear.
Needless to say you were more cautious when choosing Damian to catch you. However he does apologise for dropping you on your ass by gifting you something he himself drew by hand; He secretly doesn’t like it when you’re upset with him and will do anything to rectify it.
What a sweetheart.
Bruce: he’s too use to you pulling this type of shit that it’s basically muscle memory for him to catch you as you’re running towards him, all with a straight face mind you.
Be grateful because he risked a much needed bowl of Mulligatawny soup just to catch you in his arms, but then again the kisses you bombard his cheek is more than reward enough, a small almost missable smile appears on his lips as he then proceeds to carry you for the rest of the day as “punishment.”
( this only occurs when Bruce is feeling particularly affectionate or playful)
Much to your batkids -Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian, Duke, Cass and Steph- dismay. They’d want to use this as blackmail, but they know that it will backfire as you’ll probably hang the photo on a wall somewhere in the manor, reminding them of how disgustingly their parents can be when given the opportunity.
#dc imagine#dc x reader#dc x you#dc fanfic#dc fic#dc comics x reader#dc fluff#dc fanfiction#jason todd imagine#jason todd fluff#jason todd x reader#jason todd imagines#jason todd fanfiction#dick grayson x you#dick grayson imagine#dick grayson imagines#dick grayson x reader#dick grayson fluff#damian wayne x you#damian wayne imagine#damian wayne x reader#damian wayne imagines#damian wayne fluff#bruce wayne x you#bruce wayne fluff#bruce wayne x reader#bruce wayne imagine#bruce wayne fanfiction#nightwing x you#nightwing fluff
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I hate when you're away
Pairing: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader
Summary: Joel fucks the soreness away.
Warnings: +18 MDNI, smut smut smut ahead, unprotrected p-in-v, fingering, mentions of blowjob, cum eating, begging, horny asf Joel, eating out, daddy kink.
A/n: it's my first weekend with some time off, and what else should I be doing instead of trying my first attempt of writing smut hm hm?! Hehehe enjoy :) also, GIF ain't mine.
" Joel, baby! I'm so sore. " You whine softly as your fingers tenderly caress his tousled morning locks while he spreads warm, affectionate kisses all the way down your abdomen, tracing a path to his intended destination.
" Shhh, just relax now princess, let daddy stretch ya needy lil hole just a bit for his cock, will ya? " His thick accent sending shivers down your spine, leading you into closing your eyes, missing the way Joel spits in his fingers before smearing the sticky liquid all over your still puffy clit from last night's event, rubbing tight circles on the bud and dragging moisture up and down your pussy before shoving two dampened fingers inside you, curling his digits against your spongy walls, feeling you squeezing his fingers inside, your head falling back onto the mattress as you moans his name and bucks your hips against his palm.
Joel had spent a few weeks out due to one of his often travels around the state, doing god knows what with his most faithful partner, Tess. You used to be jealous of their proximity once you realized you had more than a crush on him, annoyed at how close she could casually be around him without making things up as an excuse to get his attention. Thankfully, the jealousy quickly went down the toilet once you found out she probably liked women more than himself did when she boldly hit on you while she was drunk, which you might even had enjoyed if you weren't so focused on seducing her partner.
You were reading a book on the living room's couch when you heard the jingle of keys unlocking you and Joel's shared apartment's door, your back sinking in an somehow uncomfortable position in the old cushions. You dropped your book aside, getting up to greet your man as he had spent long enough away from you, making you all needy for his presence and touch. To your dismay, instead of embracing you with his strong arms and whispering sweet nothings against your hair in attempt to show you how bad he had missed you, Joel didn't even look at you on his way in, dropping his seemingly weighty backpack on the floor, loud thud filling the air, before hurriedly barging in to the bathroom, not even bothering to close the door behind him.
You froze next to where he had just gotten in, not knowing how to react to his awfully unsual demeanor. As a matter of fact, you hadn't even had time to look in his eyes, only taking a hint of his beyond smudged clothes as he stormed away from you. Concern fill your chest as you begin to try to piece the puzzle on what had happened for him to act so distressed. Had the work he went to get done gone wrong? Was he pissed at someone who deared to go against him? You even wondered if Tess had gotten fucking killed by some motherfucking clicker. An assumption that soon vanished once you hear her voice on the other side of your door, talking to someone random on the hall.
Maybe he was just sick of you, afterward. Maybe he had gotten back to his strict and fuzzy way of treating you just like he was when you first got in his and his friend's way.
Unbestknown to you, the reason Joel had ignored your presence was due a fucked up wet dream he had had in the middle of the night when camping in the woods a few days earlier, leading him into waking up with a hard and leaking cock against the restrain of his pants, furious at how he wouldn't be able to take care of it when Tess was snoring right next to him and you were miles away. He tried to ease himself the best he could, struggling whenever he'd revivid the dream where he had you all on fours as he pounded you from behind, squirting on his cock as he demanded for you to cum, referring to him as daddy.
Well fuck, the way he missed your cunt the following travelling days should be forbidden.
The second Joel left his shower he went out looking for you, not bothering to wrap himself up in a towel much less get his body dried. You were sitting down, still in the living room, blankly staring at a random wall when he found you, a hint of regret hitting him when he realized that it was probably his fault you were so quiet but the incessant throb of his cock vanished the concern away. He approached you with loud steps, your eyes widening as you take in his naked form, droplets of water tracing paths behind him and all over his shaped body onto the floor below his feet, your eyes following his whole, parking at his pelvis where his cock was standing hard against his wet stomach, tip glistening with precum. Your mouth went dry as waves of shocks found their way up to the pitch of your stomach landing onto your core, it was safe to say the image of him only took mere seconds to affect you. Joel had his glare stuck on your face, his features harsh and eyebrows furrowed, almost as if he was in pain.
Joel knew that if he looked at you the moment he walked home, all sweet and loving with your big sparkly eyes staring at him, he wouldn't be able to keep his hands to himself as he was in a dreadful need of your mouth on him, but he couldn't give in before taking a long shower, there was no way you would even want to fuck with him smelling like shit. So instead, he chose to ignore you, which wasn't the smartest choice considering you probably would have nasty second thoughts on it, but he would make things up with you the sooner he was all clean and smeeling nice. And boy, did he do.
" Hi there, doll. Have you missed me?" you nodded, speechless. " Well then why don't ya kneel for daddy and show me how much ya missed him, huh? "
The following events were all a blur, your body probably working on auto pilot as it only took seconds before Joel had himself shoved deep down your throat, hands tugging tightly around your hair as he bobbed your head against him the harder he could, desperate to fill your throat with his thick ropes of cum in attempt to get rid of the burning feeling of his need. Which obviously, wasn't enough. After making you give him head he fucked you senseless on the floor, making sure to vividly manevour you in all of the positions he had dreamt of while traveling. You and Joel spent the following hours drowning yourselves in each other's desires until there was no hint of energy left for you to keep going.
That was until he woke you up the morning after, in your shared bed, spreading warm kisses all over your face and neck, engulfing himself into the warmth of your body and silently thanking the heavens for letting him return home safe to your embrace. No matter how much of you he had taken the previous night, his cock didn't seem to take any near satisfaction from it.
He keeps fingering you until the previous soreness you'd been feeling turned into a desperate buck of your hips, wishing for him not to stop, your cunt twitching and leaking as you feel yout orgasm approaching.
" Are you ready for me, doll? " Joel towers over your laying trembling body, bending his torso so he could grab your tits, assaulting your erect buds with harsh pinches. You moans, nodding quickly " Yeah? Then beg for it, wanna hear ya say it "
He knew you hated when he made you beg, annoyed at how easily he could work his way onto your brain and manipulate you into becoming nothing but a slutty whore for him. He knew you hated that you were so easy to succumb to him, not willing to stop once you had it started.
" Oh don't ya try to stop yourself from bein' my bitch now, doll. Your pussy's dying for my cock to get it all wretched " You whimper, your core burning for him.
" Please Joel, p-please... please fuck me! Come on, ugh, I need you inside me already "
Your pleads seem to ignite fire on him as he lowers his face next to yours and smirk hungrily, like a predator scolding his prey. Joel presses his lips against yours in a harsh motion, swallowing your moans. He keeps on clutching on your tits, his free hand lowers to grab his member, holding it against your now drenched cunt. He interrupts the kiss and gets back to kneeling in front of you on the bed, he positions his throbbing cock onto your entrance, bumping on it, eliciting a loud moan from you.
" Mhmm, such a naughty lil bitch for me, all whinin' and beggin', gonna fill you up so good hun' " All of his teasing was growing impatience in you, he hell knows how to drive you insane and would never skip the opportunity of seeing you squirming underneath him " Joel, will you shut the fuck up and fuck me already? For fuck sakes! "
" So much swearing for sucha pretty lil mouth, I think someone's growing mad at me now, huh " He mocked, causing you to growl in annoyance, but before you could complain any further Joel fully knocked himself inside you with no previous warning, thrusting his hips rapidly, both of his hands wrapped around your hips, pushing you desperately against him as his face contorted in pleasure. Your arms pull him against you making his torso bend over again, face falling onto the crook of your neck as you stick your nails into the flesh of his back, scratching and pulling him closer in a way that probably would draw blood from it, which only seemed to get Joel even more turned on as his cock would fuck you harder at each second.
" Yes, yes, yes, FUCK, fuck don't stop, don't stop baby! " Joel smirks, admiring your perky tits bouncing next to his face.
" Such a good girl begging for me. Fuck, ya pussy feels so tight, squeeze daddy's cock harder baby, c'mon " Joel mutters against your neck, his warm lips popping loud pecks and bites on it, you loved the way his beard would scrape your skin while he was fucking you.
" Mhmmm yes, want you cumming inside me daddy, I know you can't get enough of m-me, oh fuck! "
" Fuck, ya know me so damn well, don't ya? Daddy's gonna cum so hard, doll. Where do ya want me huh? " Joel pounds your pussy harder at each sentence, you know he's close from cumming, his hips muscles burning and twitching from how hard he's thrusting his way inside you, loud wet noises filling the air and sweat dripping down his naked back as you keep on scratching it raw.
" I-inside me daddy, mhmm ughh fuck please please fuck... gonna cum, fuck... I'm c-cumming Joel "
Joel tried his best to delay his release, to make the addicting feeling of your pussy swallowing him last the longer it could, but how could he ever control himself when his girl was begging so beautifully for him? How could he resist the thought of cumming so hard inside you that it would make you see stars and scream his name? Joel is addicted to you in ways he had never been with any other woman and his body would always betray him on it. He wouldn't miss the opportunity of bragging about making you cum when himself had jerked off so many times to the thought of it while he was still a mere friend of yours.
Joel growls, emptying himself inside you, cock twitching abruptly as white ropes of cum paint the tight walls of your cunt, your eyes rolling to the back of your head once you reach your own orgasm, jaw hanging open before eliciting a loud whine.
When you're both finished, Joel's body falls upon yours, panting and sweating, his cock softening within your warmth. He kisses your sternum, resting his eyes and listening to your heartbeat.
He pulls his cock out of your hole and you stops breathing for a moment when you feel his hot seed dripping down your pussy, you didn't know if it was the aftershocks of your climax but you could feel something gathering on your lower belly again. You shove one of your hands in between you and Joel's body, your fingers collecting his dripping cum and smearing it upon your swollen clit, making a mess all over it, dragging a low whimper from your throat, which caught your boyfriend's attention.
" Watcha doin' down there, doll? Seems like I'm not the only one who can't get satisfied, huh? "
" Mhmm, seems like it, yes "
" Here, lemme do the work for my woman "
Joel lowers his body all the way between your legs, nipping on your belly until he finds the spot you needed him so badly. You were still recovering from your previous orgasm but there was something about you being covered in his cum that wouldn't let your nerves cool down, you needed him just one more time.
He holds one of your legs and rest it above his shoulder, licking the insides of your thigh before stopping by your pussy, closing his eyes and inhaling your scent, his cock twitching for what it feels like the millionth time since he had gotten back, which almost seemed impossible but honestly, he couldn't care less about possibilities. Joel's jaw drops against your puffy core, his lips caressing your clit in a silent tease, he taste his own juices on you in a delicious mix of musky and sweet.
Lapping up your gathering moist, Joel licks and sucks on your pussy, pressing his tongue right where he knows you would die on the inside, you feel the coil building up again, tousling your fingers in his hair you pull him impossibility closer, bucking your hips on his skillful mouth, he alternates between shoving his tongue inside you and assaulting your clit with circling pressured motions. You feel as if you might explode at any time, wondering when he had learned to give head so fucking well, hints of jealousy hitting you when for a mere 2 seconds you imagine him making other women feel this way, getting interrupted by your orgasm ripping through your body.
If whenever Joel would return from a long trip he would make things up with you by giving you the pleasure of seeing him panting, face covered in your cum and a smirk on his lips after fucking you senseless for a whole night, then maybe it wouldn't be all bad having him away for a lil bit.
#joel miller x reader#joel miller#joel miller smut#joel miller fluff#the last of us#the last of us drabble#joel miller imagine#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x oc#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal imagine#tlou
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more modern!ellie headcanons
a/n: just a little something... as always AI AUDIOS AT THE END... replies and reblogs are appreciated
ellie is a complete night owl
like you actually are concerned about when she sleeps
if you have an early morning class together she is always running late
or just doesn't show up so you would have to call her and wake her up
"hey baby, what's up i just woke up"
"ellie, class is about to start."
"oh shit, we have class today?"
she would sit next to you in any class you shared and scribble little doodles over to you
or communicate with you through notes
ellie hates going out in public but she loves going with you to do your errands
you're going grocery shopping? ellie is there
you need to find new shoes? she is there
barnes and noble? she would probably be there before you
she likes to do this thing where she will pick out a book for you and you will pick out a book for her and you will sit in the back and spend your day reading together
sometimes she hates the books you pick out for her
"ugh, another colleen hoover book? i gave you a cool book and you give me colleen fucking hoover?"
"little women is cool?"
"i can't believe you just said that."
if you two are out in public together she likes to pretend that the two of you are a married couple
like for example if you're at the cash register and she brings an item up to you and asks if she could get it
"no ellie, put that back."
she would turn to the cashier and say something like "what the wife says, goes... am i right?"
even when she's not with you and she's out drinking at the bar with dina and jesse she would randomly be like, "the wife's not gonna like this one" and take another shot
or when she buys you lingere that is obviously not for her she would be like, "you know what they say, 'happy wife, happy life'"
ellie is really not a social person either
unless she is a few drinks deep which leads us to... drunk!ellie
drunk ellie is soooooo clingy and sentimental
not that she isn't regularly, she's just way more affectionate when drunk
her usual comments would be like, "you're so lucky i love you so much..." or "you're so cute when you're not patronizing me..."
but her drunk? "i think you're the best thing to have happened to me, please never leave me."
"being in love with you is all that matters to me right now... take your clothes off."
she's always touching you in some way if she's drunk
if she's drunk at dinner and she's next to you, her hand in on your thigh or her head is resting on your shoulder
if she's drunk at a party, her hands are on your waist at all times whether she's dancing with you or talking to others
she just wants to be around you
she also can't sleep without you if she's drunk
you would be trying to put her to bed and she would just grab your wrist and mutter a, "please stay"
ellie always orders something you like so you can pick off of her plate
"you want some, baby? i knew you were going to ask for some anyways."
she's always thinking of you
when she sees little trinkets she's like "aw my girlfriend would love this."
or when she sees someone trip in public she's like "i wish my girlfriend was here, i know she'd die laughing."
ellie reads you books so you can sleep
if she knows you had a particularly rough day she will be like, "you okay, babe? want me to read you something?"
and then your climbing in her bed and resting your head in the crook of her neck as she reads to you
she will send you a picture of any animal she sees on the street
loves getting you things because she loves your reaction to gifts
... the two of you study by getting to take an article of clothing off each time you get something right
let's just say you pass most of your tests
ai audios:
extras:
what the wife says, goes
happy wife happy life
the wife's not gonna like this one
you want some baby?
#mine#ellie williams#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams smut#ellie williams tlou#ellie williams x reader smut#ellie williams the last of us#ellie williams tlou2#ellie williams fanfiction#ellie williams fanfic#ellie williams fan fic#ellie williams x female reader#ellie williams x you#ellie williams imagine#ellie williams oneshot#modern!ellie williams#college!ellie williams#ellie williams one shot
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SERENE SHENANIGANS
❨ summary ❩ twst › waking them up to tell them stories that don’t make sense
tags ✧ fluff, crack, savanaclaw boys, defo not proofread its like 7 am, cursing but nothing out of the ordinary, ooc(?), ruggie calls you a little shit like once (affectionate), jack is whipped for you
amanuensis’ message ⊹ I LITERALLY LOVE DOING THIS??? my friends hate me for it. but anyways hiii im back after like my month hiatus, how are thy sleeplings?😋 mb guys writers block has been really kicking my ass, i was spitting blanks on paper… i’m gonna hopefully post another pastry emporium soon for scarabia so stay tuned for that‼️
⌜ 300+ e/chara ⌟
♫ sunset boulevard - hohyun
twst masterlist
LEONA KINGSCHOLAR
— “leona… pspsps….”
— he hums gruffly when his name was called the first time, only opening his eye thinking you called him a second time when it was really just noise that you would make to get the attention of a house cat. he instantly pins his ears back. how dare you. “hmm?”
— “so i took our snail for a walk and i had accidentally left my feet here to wash the dishes because the grass was blue.”
— huh? you could see him trying to process everything you just said as you explained, his lips parting and eyebrows furrowing. it took everything in you not to laugh. he does one of those blinks, the really delayed ones, one eye opens before the other…
— he’s half asleep too so the confusion is just adding up altogether. if chicken scratch wasn’t a writing term, this is literally it in words. its like the books back at home he picks up to read (derogatory) its, what, 4 am? dont do this to him😭
— you’ve never seen him so expressive💀 this definitely makes his eye and ear twitch at the same time. what type of fucked up fever dream is this?? its usually a blessing seeing you as the first thing he wakes up to, not when you wake him up with some bull strung up in a sentence with your beady eyes staring at him while he sleeps. he loves you, yes, but what does he even say to this…
— “what…”
— your forehead met with his chest as you struggled not to laugh at the uncharacteristic break in leona’s voice. how many cups of coffee did you drink? he asks you to repeat yourself even though it kinda a mind mush decision so you did and by the end of it, he looks absolutely restless.
— “that’s… yes. that’s great, herbivore. can we go to bed now?”
— you note that leona is surprisingly patient when half asleep
┏━━━━━━ ━ ─ ╴⋯ ⟢
JACK HOWL
— deep sleeper. tug his ear. though he practically springs up before your hand makes contact, giving himself whiplash.
— “jack?”
— almost instantly relaxes when he realizes its you, tail wagging subtly☹️ “hi, baby. s’something wrong?”
— “hiii, do you remember a year ahead ago when i had to go to the dentist to get my spine fixed and the cats were barking at the flying dogs because the sky was in the water?”
— bro feels like he just had a stroke💀 he’s blinking rapidly, rubbing nose bridge as you explain. he really wants to understand, he does, but wtf did you just say??? it was the innocent “hi” before you unapologetically bashed his head in with the entire dictionary. its so ridiculous he couldn’t help but laugh.
— “jack, this is serious.” even as you told him that, your voice was not steady at all which made his shoulders shake violently in silent laughter.
— “im listening, i swear. tell me one more time?” yk his ass is not listening. he pulls you into his lap while his thumbs idly rubbed your sides, responding to your stories with “uh-huh” and “yeah?” with a lovesick smile on his face.
— eventually holds your face and starts pressing heart squeezing, fluffy kisses all over your face which truly made you more tired then you were. you honestly start forgetting what and where the story was going.
— jack only pauses his kissing attack to respond when you take a small break but even then he doesn’t pull away fully, he’s just speaking against your skin
— “—and the duck had my arm while i was taking it on a walk because gran tammy was in a flying shopping cart.”
— “oh wow. and then?”
— he’s listening but he’s not, mostly because he’s like two seconds away from dreamland and his brain isn’t registering half the shit you’re saying. he wants to see how many stories you can jumble up.
— “yeah, i think it’s bedtime for us…”
┏━━━━━━ ━ ─ ╴⋯ ⟢
RUGGIE BUCCHI
— omfg he wakes up like a mom. like yk how you would barely touch them and they would gasp like they were just given cpr?? he wakes up like that.
— and you’re just standing there awkwardly 👁️👁️
— takes a quick look around before looking at you. “what happened? is it time to wake up leona already?” you shake your head and ruggie flops back, an arm draped over his eyes. “you scared me… come, lay down with me?” he held his free arm out for you and you did take your place cozied up against his side. to your surprise, you did actually scare the living shit out of him from how fast his heart was racing.
— “ruggie, yk i just found out you’re related to turtles, right? and i had to take uncle bobby to the vet to get a dna test because the fish drowned in air.”
— slow roblox turn towards you but instead its his head as he cranes it down to stare at you. you can practically hear the gears in his head turning and you literally could not look at him or you’d blow your cover.🧍🏾
— “i’m sorry,, what the fuck??”
— he’s genuinely confused, asking you questions about your story while his brain tries to put together the pieces. each question he asks, the more its harder to speak in full sentences other than wheezes
— “what are you laughing at, ya little shit? explain this to me!”
— “i’m trying!”
— and you are😭 its like when you have to explain the family tree really slow bc you cant say, “my father’s girlfriend’s son” without him like ???? and you’re trying to explain it to him slowly, eventually forgetting what you said in the first place…
— “…and the fish drowned in air.”
— “yes.”
— “sweetheart, you still haven’t explained how i’m related to turtles—”
#disney twisted wonderland#disney twst#twst fluff#twst headcanons#twst wonderland#twisted wonderland scenarios#twisted wonderland imagines#twisted wonderland#twst#twisted wonderland headcanons#twst x reader#twisted wonderland savanaclaw#leona kingscholar#leona x reader#leona kingsholar x reader#twst leona#twisted wonderland leona#jack howl#jack howl x reader#twst jack#obey me#twst ruggie#ruggie bucci x reader#twisted wonderland ruggie#ruggie bucchi#ruggie bucci#ruggie x reader#ruggie headcanons#leona headcanons#jack howl headcanons
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checkmate
cowboy like me chapter nine
hi sorry it’s late please don’t hate me 🥲 would just like to note- reader's pasta is gluten free, alright? i have had too many gluten-induced traumas to write about it anymore. she is a gluten free queen. thanks
parts 1-8 on my masterlist here, n my ao3 here. love u all the most!!!
pairing: dbf!joel x fem!reader
summary: joel steals you away during a family meal to give you a telling off...in the form of a quickie
warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) pining reader, bratty reader, brat tamer joel, spanking, oral (m receiving), face fucking, dom!joel, orgasm denial, theft of underwear, loose mention of someone cheating, alcohol, age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), cursing, marty robbins
word count: 8.1k
series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist
“Know you can take it, baby, you’ve done it before. That’s my girl.”
You whimper in response, mouth full of his cock.
“Keep makin’ those pretty noises, whole hotel’s gonna be wonderin’ what’s goin’ on up here.”
He allows you a second to pull off of him, gasping for air when your mouth’s free again.
“Want ‘em to hear,” you choke out, lips slipping back down his cock.
The water dances to-and-fro, kissing the lip of the pool and splashing onto the concrete at your feet. It’s windier than normal today, trees whispering overhead, breeze taking your hair and lightly tossing it around.
You’re sat out back on a lounger, waiting for Joel to come pick you up. Joel and Sarah, that is. Picking you and your dad up. Be nice if it were just Joel, wouldn’t it? You and him, alone together again. Out on a date, or even just following him around, side by side in his truck as he goes about his day. His hand on your thigh, pretending to roll his eyes at your music choice.
As if that would ever happen. As if that could ever happen.
He and your dad have organized some dinner to celebrate yours and Sarah’s return home; some hotel resort with a restaurant looking out over the river. Your dad couldn’t remember the name of it. Said it was all Joel doing the booking.
You can still fucking hear him. Your dad. His voice lulls through the open kitchen window, the wind carrying it to your ears almost comically. You wish you could bat it away. He’s had the same Marty Robbins song stuck in his head all morning. You’d finally reached breaking point when he’d graduated from just humming it to full-volume singing, even doing his own impression of the guitar.
And now it seems that sneaking out to the backyard hadn’t rid you of the damn song either, no matter how loud the trees may be rustling.
Joel said he’d be here by now – he’s late. You slink off to the back gate to slip out front and wait for him there. And maybe also to escape your dad’s voice. No offense to the guy.
A couple minutes to six, his truck pulls up by the curb you’re perched on. Sarah climbs over the front seat to the back, and you join her.
She scoffs when you slam the door shut. “You’re eager.”
You shake your head in response, warning her with a roll of your eyes not to ask. She gives you an understanding nod and your eyes turn to Joel.
“You’re late.”
He looks back at you in the rearview mirror. “Not my fault. Traffic. We left twenty minutes ago, didn’t we?”
Sarah’s lip curls. She shrugs a little. You know he’s telling the truth.
When you turn back, Joel’s eyes are still on you, expression a little softer. A greeting. Making up for the fact he can’t wrap his arms around you, pinch your nose affectionately, kiss you to say hello. You smile back at him.
“That watch a’ yours runnin’ slow, Miller?”
Your dad’s voice is like a fucking foghorn. Sarah covers her mouth to stop a laugh from escaping her lips. He sweeps down the driveway toward the truck and you lean back in your seat. Quiet moment ruined.
Joel lightly chuckles and then gives you one last hazardous glance in the mirror before pulling off, ignoring your dad’s teasing. Probably for your benefit.
The relief of a quiet journey doesn’t last long, though. Barely five minutes in, your dad picks up the humming again.
“Dude,” you groan, “will you quit that? For the love of God.”
“It’s stuck in my damn head,” he chuckles, arms crossing defensively.
You roll your eyes again. “So your plan is to plague us all with it, too?”
“Pretty much.”
“What’s he singin’?” Sarah asks, leaning forward.
“Marty Robbins. Old song.” The lack of tone in Joel’s voice and the quick shake of his head as he says it tells you he ain’t the biggest Marty Robbins fan either. A voice inside you thanks God, like it even matters what music he’s into.
“Never heard of ‘im.”
“Lucky you,” you breathe, and your dad holds up a finger over his shoulder.
“Heard that,” he says.
“’s why I said it.”
Joel’s shoulders jerk with a laugh. “You’re in a real mood today, aren’t you?”
Your head falls against the window, bumping along with the road as Joel drives.
“Hold up a second,” your dad rounds on him, “you ain’t showin’ your kid real music, are you? She doesn’t even know Marty Robbins.”
“I ain’t puttin’ her through the pain of knowin’ him.”
A smile forms across your lips. Just another thing you two agree on. Another little string connecting you both, separating you from the rest.
You almost snort at yourself. Counting strings.
Sarah interrupts your train of thought when she requests the radio be put on. Joel turns the dial up and she sits back, victorious. You stifle a laugh. But even Taylor Swift doesn’t fully drown out your dad’s voice – she sure doesn’t stop the way he bobs his head as he sings to himself. It’s helpful, all the same.
You and Joel have been quite literally counting down the hours until you’re alone together. Alone for a whole weekend. Each morning, you’ll text him to announce it’s one less day. And he’ll reply some witty comment, some crude joke, or else a thumbs up emoji which usually meant he was working, or had company and couldn’t text. Company meaning eagle-eyed Sarah.
It’s been almost a whole week since the last time you had uninterrupted, unsupervised time with him. When you could link your arms around him, feel his head lean down on top of yours, say things without threat of anyone else hearing.
Seeing him there in the front seat, inches away from you, and not being able to touch him or even talk much to him, feels like a form of torture. Makes you curse your dad ‘n his tone-deaf singing all the more.
You’re supposed to be meeting Sam and Anna and a couple others from work at Frank’s, Saturday night, 8PM sharp. Rodeo night. Your dad’s leaving for Fort Worth in the late afternoon, he said. You’d kinda sulked when he told you, realizing that left a tiny window of time you could see Joel that day.
And then he told you he’d text Joel to ask if he’d be around to pick you up from Frank’s if you needed him, and you chirped up.
“Yeah. Yeah, that’d be really good. Can you ask him to?”
“He said just to text you if you need ‘im, hon.”
“Cool, I will. I mean, I will if I need him. Thanks, Dad.”
If you need him. If. Just on the off-chance, right?
The thought draws a smile across your face. You reckon his presence will be very, very needed this weekend.
Soon enough, the truck pulls in to some ornamented, fountain-guarded resort, bursting with greenery and flowers, paved in pristine sandstone. A red canopy over the entrance, golden letters spelling out Hillcrest.
“Damn…” Sarah leans over into your space to get a glimpse of the building from your window. “This is so fancy.”
“You treatin’ us or somethin’, son?” your dad asks Joel.
He doesn’t reply. But his eyes flit up to meet yours, then back to the road ahead. In a one-second look, you understand.
Sarah’s still staring outside, mouth wide open, blinking eyes taking everything in. “Dad, what the f…”
“Language,” Joel clips.
You smirk. It’s funny, hearing the man who’s whispered far worse things – filthy things – to you in earshot of company, chastise his nineteen-year-old for cursing.
The four of you roll by the water feature – three robed women made of stone pouring water from vases into a pool at their feet – and park up. As you hop out, a woman in a silk dress struts by, floppy sunhat bouncing with each step she takes.
Joel meets you at the back of the truck, letting Sarah and your dad stroll off ahead. They’re busy pointing at different features of the lavish hotel – the purple-uniformed bellboys running in and out of the lobby, the glimmering revolving door, the guests eating on balconies overhead.
“You outta that mood yet?” he asks, and you snap out of your daze.
“Not in a mood,” you reply bluntly, eyes still ahead.
“Huh.” He nods, unconvinced. “Marty Robbins gettin’ to ya that much, is he?”
“Marty Robbins ain’t the problem.”
“No? What is it, then?”
His hand finds the small of your back. It straightens you up like a shot of fire through your spine.
“Not a what. A who.”
You lead him inside.
A man in a pressed white shirt greets you all at the entrance to the restaurant.
“Reservation for Miller,” Joel says, and the man nods curtly and darts off into the sea of tables.
Sarah skips off with your dad on her arm, the two of them fucking ecstatic to be somewhere so fancy and fun. You and Joel amble through, past wine coolers, dodging fleeing waiters, slipping between white-cloth tables and silver spoon diners. His hand never leaves the skin between your shoulder blades, red hot on your goosebumped skin.
You’re seated at a table by the window, overlooking the river. Joel sits opposite you, your dad by his side. Sarah nudges your elbow and holds her phone up, snapping a selfie of you both with the glimmering water in the background. She tags the location and adds text below: fine dining. Her thumbs search for emojis, picking two champagne glasses, some sparkles, and a pink heart. Then she swaps the heart for a smiley face, and tilts the phone to you, wordlessly asking for your approval.
“Cute,” you tell her, and she beams, hittingpost.
The server returns, hands out menus, leaves a jug of ice water and some fancy bottle of wine you’ve never heard of by the table, and then nods his head once again before he rushes off. Your dad salutes him as he goes. You cringe.
“Boy’s gonna take a damn heart attack,” Joel mutters, watching your dad lift the wine from its bucket.
Sarah’s watching, too. She looks from the bottle of wine over to Joel, eyebrows raised. He flatly tells her, “No.”
“Come on,” she protests, “it’s not like anybody here knows what age I am.”
“We know.”
“Dad, I–”
“Water, or nothin’.”
Her eyes dagger into his. “You ain’t exactly a stickler for the rules yourself,” she breathes, sliding the jug across the table, and you scoff.
You’ve seen her do worse on her Instagram stories, and the way she glares at you warns you not to open your mouth. If Joel’s this pressed about some wine with a meal, it’s a damn good thing he doesn’t have a social media account.
“Let’s toast,” your dad announces as he pours wine into three of the glasses, “to…to you girls bein’ back home…” He raises his wine and Sarah lifts her little water, lemon slice floating on top. “…and to a fun summer ahead. Hm?”
You and Joel both hesitate a little before lifting your drinks, clinking them softly against each other with a glint in your eyes.
A fun summer. Sure. You’re certainly having fun. Yeah.
You watch Joel as you take a sip, frowning at the bitter taste. His mouth twists just like yours, neck winces as he swallows. Then he promptly slides his glass along the table back to your dad, clearing his throat and wiping his lips with the back of his hand.
“No?” you ask, amused.
“Not my thing.”
You tilt your head. “Maybe they have Bud at the bar.”
“You’re hilarious, you know that?”
You flash a proud grin at him. The denim of his jeans brushes against your ankles. Your dad takes Sarah up in conversation. No one would see if you just…
Under the long white tablecloth, you nudge open his calves and slot your feet between them. Joel’s boots close at the back of your legs, holding you to him. Holding you against him.
It feels…nice. It’s almost normal. Like something a real couple would do. Not a pair of hopeful idiots wrapped up too tight in some clandestine affair. You almost feel like you could reach for his hand, and you’re willing to bet that if it weren’t for your company, he’d let you take it. Let you part his fingers with yours. Let you run a light touch over his knuckles.
When you finally look up at Joel, he’s looking right back. Watching you. Reading your mind.
You avert your gaze, reaching to pour a glass of water.
A few quiet minutes pass while the table studies the menu. You’re still looking around, taking in your surroundings. The more you look, the more you notice. Velvet drapes framing tall Palladian windows. A man nervously checking his blazer pocket while his girlfriend’s at the bathroom. Joel’s legs give yours a wiggle and you’re drawn away from the pocket square and slicked-back hair.
He smiles affectionately. Asks in his eyes if you’re okay. Your shoulders meet your jaw with the inhale you take, and then you nod. Imperceptible. Some dumb smile across your lips that mirrors his. Like you really are on your own or something. It’s stupid.
“Reckon I’ll have the steak,” your dad says.
Joel hums in agreement, nodding.
Sarah orders a Caesar salad and you decide on the fettuccine Alfredo. The nodding waiter snaps his little black book shut and collects your menus, before disappearing again. Conversation flows across the table naturally: your dad’s big client, Joel’s working week, Sarah’s sophomore year. Of course, the Rangers are mentioned once or twice.
Your wrist is shaking your glass, watching as the water swirls around inside. The thought turns over much the same in your head. A question for Joel. When your food arrives and the chatter lulls, you brave up enough to ask it.
“You think I’m…brighter…here?”
He smiles, a little confused. “Brighter?”
“Aw, kiddo.” Your dad shakes his head, knife tearing into his steak. “I knew you’d take that to heart.”
Joel’s still looking at you. Concerned.
Sarah elbows you. “What’s that mean?”
Your dad sighs. “Bill told ‘er on Sunday she used to be miserable whenever she came home. Said that this time ‘round she looks…”
“…brighter.” You lift your hands to form air quotes around the word, pasta wrapped around the fork between your fingers.
Joel’s expression relaxes, his smile grows. “’cause of anything in particular, or…?”
You instantly regret bringing it up. He’s a dick. Has to ruin every sweet moment with a smug smirk and testosterone-induced impulses, doesn’t he?
You mock smile back and shake your head.
“Y’know what I think it is?” your dad says, and Joel finally turns to him. He nods at you and Sarah. “The pair of ‘em. Back home like old times. How long has it been since the four of us were out doin’ stuff together?”
You and Sarah exchange a sideways glance.
“I’m serious!” he says, waving his hands. Cutlery almost flying out of his grip. “It’s nice. Joel, back me up.”
Joel’s sat back in his chair, midway through cutting his steak, watching this show unfold. He clears his throat and offers, “Yeah. Real nice.”
Your dad looks defeated. He retires from the conversation, focusing on the meal in front of him.
“What are you guys gonna do all weekend without us?” Sarah asks, shoving a forkful of salad in her mouth.
“I, uh…keep forgetting y’all are goin’ away,” you lie, staring down at your pasta.
Joel clears his throat again. “This guy at work was showin’ me these videos of folks playin’ chess – did you know there are these…leagues, for chess? Professional leagues ‘n competitions. They win money, good money, for playin’ chess.”
Sarah, like everybody at the table, is quiet for a few seconds. “Is…is this your way of sayin’ y’all are gonna…play chess?”
You’re staring at Joel, amused and yet a tad embarrassed. The dude you’re sleeping with just went on a ramble about chess.
You twirl your fork in your hand before taking another bite. “I’ve never played chess. Maybe you’ll have to play it alone.”
Joel narrows his eyes. “Don’t think you can,” he says, gritting his teeth, “it’s a two-player game.”
“Nah,” Sarah chimes in. “A guy in my Physiology class plays against himself to practice. He’s pretty good, I think.”
Your head nods toward her, eyebrows raised at Joel. He’s grimacing back.
“He always goes on about speed, says it’s all about playin’ fast so your opponent ain’t got time to think. Quick hands, he says.”
Your brows arch, lips petted. Poor Joel. “Aw. Looks like you’ll be playin’ with yourself.”
His brows angle and you notice a twisted smile on his lips. Pissed – sort of aroused, but pissed. You lift your legs from between his. He holds onto your ankles with his own for a second, forcing you to stare at him, before he frees you. You tuck your legs under your chair.
Just then, Sarah’s phone vibrates on the wooden table.
“Oh, shoot, two seconds. Hello?” She screws her face up. “Are you kidding me? No way. No, I don’t– You– Kels, can I call you back in, like, an hour or something? I’ll call you back, I’m just at dinner with my dad and my…No, I’ll literally be, like– Alright. Lemme call you back. Okay.”
She hangs up and swivels in her seat to you.
“You know Kels? Kelly Ramirez?”
You draw a blank. Push your bottom lip out. “Should I know a Kelly Ramirez?”
“She played soccer with me in high school? Remember, that game you came to,” Sarah leans in, knocking your arm with the back of her hand as if giving your memory a swift kick, “she played in goal to fill in for Stephanie, and broke her ankle tryna save Amber Murphy’s shot? Passed out from the pain?”
Nothing. You shake your head.
She huffs. “Coach Lee had to drive her to the emergency room and it’s all she went on about for weeks.”
“Oh!” The penny drops. “That was her? Didn’t she carve his initials into the girls’ room stalls?”
Your dad and Joel exchange a bewildered and, quite frankly, weary glance. Sarah shuts her eyes and nods, ashamed.
“That’s her.”
“Wow. I wonder if he knew how bad her crush was…” you muse, choking back a laugh when Sarah gives you a dead-eyed stare.
“He would have,” Joel says flatly, and you both shoot him a look. “Girls ain’t good at hidin’ that sorta stuff.”
“Oh, like you’ve ever had anyone have a crush on you.” Sarah bats her hand at him and then her fingers lock around your wrist. “Anyway…”
You can see Joel’s grin from your peripheral. He gives your sneaker a tap with his boot under the table, and you feel your cheeks start to heat. You move your leg.
“…she’s just caught her boyfriend cheatin’.”
“Who has?”
Sarah huffs. “Kelly Ramirez! For cryin’ out loud, are– are you even listenin’ to me?”
“I was caught up in the Coach Lee stuff. Right. No, I’m with you now. Is she okay?”
“She suspected it for weeks. He kept cancelling plans last minute, kept coming up with dumb excuses. We were all tryna tell her, just ask ‘im. Ask him or find out for yourself. So, she did. Checked his phone and found all these messages between him ‘n some girl from college.”
“How’d she hack into his phone?” your dad asks.
Joel, head now resting against his fingers, draws him a look: Really?
“She didn’t,” Sarah tells him. “She knows his passcode. Used it to get in, I guess.”
Your dad nods, taking note, eyes narrowing. He looks over to Joel, then you. These kids and their technology, you imagine him thinking. But he’s staring a fraction too long. You shift in your seat. Give him a comical shrug – Don’t ask me – and he eventually looks away.
The rest of dinner passes smoothly – Sarah picking up her phone, rattling a message into it with her thumbs, and then dropping it back down onto the table. Your dad, battling his steak, asking Joel what he thinks of the Rangers’ chances against the Astros tonight, and Joel…well, Joel not taking his attention off of you for one second.
He’s answering your dad, saying all the right things at the right times, but anytime his eyes lift off of his plate, they land on you. Your arm, draped on the tablecloth. Your hand, moving pasta around your dish with your fork. Your eyes, flitting between the view outside to that inside.
You can see him the entire time. Watching you. You’re not fucking blind. If Sarah didn’t have Kelly Ramirez spamming her phone with cheating boyfriend updates, she’d probably be commenting on it. Did she grow a second head, or somethin’? she’d quip.
But you never look back. Not once. Just let him observe you, let him wait for a glance or a kick of the foot that never comes.
You’re leant back in your chair, arms crossed over your chest, when the waiter clears your table. Watching some couple wander off down the riverside path. She’s wearing a white sundress that dances around her calves with each slow step she takes. He’s in a plain black tee, tan arm around her back. Looking around at the view, taking it all in.
Then she turns on her heel to him. He lifts a hand to move her long, dark braids from her face, drops it to cup her jaw. Pulls her in to him, presses his lips to hers. Her hands are linked at his spine. Like they’re the only two people in the world.
There’s a feeling in the depths of your chest. A throb. Uncomfortable. Maybe even painful. You shift in your seat to move it, but it doesn’t budge. Your gaze falls, travelling along the window frame, onto the white cloth and to Joel’s elbow. Up his arm, across his shoulder.
You reach his jaw and look away. He’s watching everything.
“Alright,” your dad’s hands slap down on his thighs, “we good to go?”
“You go on,” Joel tells him. “I’ll get the bill.”
“Absolutely not, bud,” your dad protests. You and Sarah both lean back in your chairs at the same time. May as well get comfortable, we could be here a while.
“I got it,” Joel says, almost annoyed, getting up to stand. Your dad follows suit. Joel holds a hand out. “I’m sure you’ll repay me somehow. Hey, I got that job in a couple weeks I said I might need you for. Help me out and we’re even.”
Your dad’s hands are on his hips. “I ain’t happy about this, Joel.”
“Stick,” Joel mutters. “I’m sure I’ve done worse that you’ve forgiven me for.”
His eyes finally find yours and your cheeks flush. He covers it by gesturing to you to stand up with a snap of his head.
Why was that hot? Is it…weird…? That that was hot? All he did was nod his head.
You stand – Sarah copies you, sliding her chair under the table. Joel pushes yours in for you. His hand’s on your back again, fingers drawing circles. The four of you are walking toward the exit. Your dad’s still murmuring about owing money.
“Hey,” Sarah calls, pointing, “this place has an outdoor bar. Let’s go check it out.”
Your head’s beginning to dizzy. Why is your head dizzying?
Stick.
The way he pointed, flicked his head toward the door. Knowing you’d just fucking obey him. And you did.
Yep. That was hot. Hot enough that it restarts something in you; something deep down begins to wind. An idea sweeps across your mind.
Sunlight bursts through the French doors up ahead, golden rays flooding in through the glass panes. Joel stoops his head as he wanders through, dodging ivy draped around the doorway. On the other side, drowned in daylight, a paved courtyard.
There are tables and chairs dotted around. Benches in front of flowerbeds. More random statues – a cherub, a rearing horse. Wooden planters with vines growing toward the sky. Another slightly smaller fountain in the middle.
This…is fucking insane. Last night for dinner you ate leftover Chinese food ‘cause your dad was working late. Tonight, you’re strolling through a five-star hotel garden after the best fettucine of your life.
Ahead of you and Joel, your dad nudges Sarah and comically offers her his arm, elbow outstretched. She nods graciously and links her arm in his, and they saunter off, chins up, dumb grins across their faces.
Joel scoffs. Your lips tug a little, chest still tight. Body still tense. And he senses it.
“What?”
You shake your head. “Nothin’. Just…taking in the view.”
“’s nice, ain’t it?”
“Mhm,” you admit. “Word on the street is it was all your idea.”
“Wanted somewhere nice for you. For both of you. Didn’t know it would be this nice, but…it’s what you deserve.”
Your eyelashes flutter, blinking rapidly to conceal the look in your eye. The look that says…something dangerous. You betray the thoughts circling around your head and press your lips together in a tight smile. “Thanks,” is all you can muster the strength to say.
Joel looks forward; your dad and Sarah are strides ahead, still gawking at the garden, chatting, snapping photos.
“It improve your mood any?”
“I already told you, I ain’t in a mood.”
“That why you couldn’t look at me at dinner?”
It stops you in your tracks. You glare at him. Almost about to punch him out of frustration, right before you catch yourself and your expression softens.
“Did you want me to look at you?” you coo, leaning in a little. Your hands rest on his forearms.
Joel tenses. Opens his mouth to say something, then thinks better of it. But you want him to fucking say it. So, you push further.
“What we were doin’ under the table wasn’t enough? Poor baby. Guess you just wanted more of my attention, huh?”
His expression doesn’t change. Lips barely move when he utters, “Thin ice, kid.”
You shrug. “I’m not the one begging you to look at me.”
He swallows. His eyes are staring you down, huge, glowing warm in the evening sunlight. There’s so much energy thrumming around your body that you feel almost faint, like your knees could give. Just swoon, fall into his arms.
“I’m bored,” you back up, turning back to the hotel, “going to the bathroom.”
You’re gone before he can react. Taking off for the doors, stumbling out of the sun and into the cool restaurant, catching your breath when you’re safely in the shade.
You approach the bar – a deep, shiny mahogany, wine glasses hanging from above, glistening footrail at the bottom. Intricately carved, varnished and smooth. Bottles of spirits and ales and wines decorate the back wall, lined up on shelves against a glimmering mirror.
Two girls in black polo shirts stand, elbows leaning against the back shelf.
“I served a duck the other night,” one of them says to the other. She has short brown hair, freckles painted across her nose. A tattoo down her right arm. She twirls a pen between her fingers as she speaks.
“A duck?” The second girl screws her face up.
“Yep. When I gave him the check, he told me to put it on his bill.”
The second girl snorts. “Shut the fuck up.”
“Hey, excuse me?” you call over, and the girl with the tattoo steps forward, still laughing. “Where are the restrooms?”
“Upstairs,” she nods to the doors by your side, “they’re on the right.”
You nod in thanks and she twirls the pen again, resuming position.
The bathroom is freezing cold when you burst into it, almost panting, and stumble across to the sink. Your palms plant firmly on the marble countertop, head falling limp between your shoulders. When you look up to catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, a laugh passes your lips.
You look…flustered. Bothered. You’re not sure if Joel noticed it. You were too busy trying to conceal it to gauge whether he’d caught on.
What the fuck is he doing to you? More importantly, how is he doing it to you? Can you seriously not go a couple days without him? Need, want, desire. Everything he causes, only he can fix.
But then, he never can fucking fix it. There’s always something or someone in the way. And you swear Joel gets off on it – watching you need him, miss him, pine for him, and knowing he won’t be able to relieve it.
Staring at yourself, you start to feel that energy charging up again. Heat pooling between your legs, blood drumming through your veins. What the fuck is he doing to me? Nothing, he’s not doin’ nothing.
Nothing I can’t do right back to him.
You push yourself off of the sink and shoot one last glance in the mirror, giving your reflection an affirming nod before striding over to the door. It swings shut behind you as you pace down the hall, feeling a lot more steel and a lot less sweet.
As you round the corner to head downstairs, a familiar shadow stalks up the last two steps and bursts into the hallway. Without a word, his arm hooks around yours and he drags you back the way you came.
“Joel– What the fuck are you doin’–?”
He passes by the restrooms and onto a plush red carpet. In a blur, he flings open the first door in sight and throws you inside, ignoring your gasps.
He slams the door shut, whipping you around to shove you against it. From over his shoulder, you notice your surroundings. A bed over by the window, pristine white sheets tucked perfectly under the mattress. Nightstands spotless, desk against the wall topped with a tray holding a bottle of wine and a tiny card that reads Welcome to the Hillcrest.
You’re in one of the hotel’s rooms. One of the hotel’s empty rooms.
Of course it’s empty. It’s like he fucking planned it.
“Alright. A hotel room. Did you book it, at least?”
“Naw,” his eyes scan you up and down, “I didn’t fuckin’ book it.”
“So…what are we doing in here?”
Joel’s pressing against you, forcing you up against the wooden door. Caging you against it with the weight of his body. Clearly, in the time you spent giving yourself a pep talk in the bathroom mirror, Joel was doing the exact same downstairs. The fucker.
“Said you were bored. ‘n that’s a real shame, given I just took you to dinner. Ain’t no pleasin’ you, is there?”
Your head rolls back against the door with a laugh. “That really got to you? So, what, now you’re gonna fuck me? Wine, dine, ‘n…yeah?”
Joel’s lips are tight, eyes staring you down. He’s seething. He’s turned on, and he’s seething. Exactly where you want him.
“You get sluttier every fuckin’ day, you know that?”
You nod, teeth taking your bottom lip. “You like it, though, huh?”
Joel doesn’t reply. You lean in closer to him.
“You like me bein’ a little slut,” you whisper, running a hand softly over his hard jeans, “just for you, don’t you?”
His voice lowers in response. “Not when I can’t do nothin’ about it.”
You pull back, cocking an eyebrow. Angle your head. “You’re the one who pulled me in here. It’s an empty hotel room, man. Do whatever the fuck you want.”
He glowers at you. His face rigid, one hand still locked around yours, almost assisting you in palming himself; the other above your head, flat against the door.
His head dips. Jaw lines with yours, breath against your ear.
“Whatever the fuck I want?”
“Mhm.” You nod, maybe a little too eagerly. Not that either of you care. Then you pause. “Oh! Wait.”
Joel lifts his head, narrowing his eyes. Looks like you just cut in front of some spiel he had planned.
Your cheeks swell. “Do you have a bottle?”
“A bottle?”
“Beer bottle. You need me to go grab one? What if they don’t have beer? It’s kind of a fancy place. Would wine work? Or is it only beer that gets you goin’–”
“Alright. Enough. Fuckin’ – brat.”
You cock your head, tongue in your cheek, pushing around the shape of your mouth. Keep going.
You spurt out a laugh. “I’m a brat?”
“Yep. Never do as you’re fuckin’ told.”
You lean in close, lips brushing off of his, so close you can taste him. Feel how tense his jaw is. Your voice is low, barely above a whisper.
“Then…make me.”
Joel’s still staring you down, watching you like a predator watches its prey. His eyes are so dark you can’t read the thoughts behind them, but the way his grip tightens on your wrist, so rough it feels like he’s fucking bruising you, the way he yanks you off of the door, tells you exactly what he’s thinking.
“I ain’t got time for this,” he hisses, pulling you over to the bed.
You stagger behind him, still snickering. Joel sinks down into the mattress, thighs apart, pulling you to stand between them. You look him up and down once, smirking, his hands still roughly gripping yours. Then –
In one fluid movement, you’re over his knee. Thighs digging into your stomach, face hovering over the soft carpet. Your hands grip his calf to hold onto something – anything – as he pulls the hem of your dress up so roughly, you’re sure he’s ripped it.
“You want to act like a brat?” he asks, and you smile, feeling his hand run from the back of your knee up your thigh, coming to rest on your ass. “Get treated like one.”
The first time his huge palm slaps against your skin, your mind blanks. The sharp sting, Joel’s grunt as his hand comes down on you. The way your body jerks, and the whine you let slip as it does. The throb when he lifts his hand, the cold air hissing against your heated skin.
He’s fucking – he’s…He has you in an empty hotel room, door unlocked, entire lobby of people downstairs. Over his knee, skirt hiked to your waist, spanking you. Hard.
And then you realize. You fucking like this.
“Joel…” you moan, catching your breath when it comes back.
Another sharp sting.
“Yeah, baby? You want me to stop? You gonna stop bein’ a little brat?”
Your eyes roll to the back of your head, filthy grin on your lips.
“F-fuck no.”
He slaps you again. You whimper, wrapping your arms around his leg.
“Didn’t fuckin’ think so. Can feel how wet you are for me.”
He curls a finger around the hem of your panties and drags them down your thighs, letting them drop off of your legs and to the floor while his fingers return between your legs, running up and down your slit. You whine.
“Such a pretty little mouth, huh? You were runnin’ it just a second ago. Where’d all your big talk go?”
You open your mouth to reply, barely even make a sound, and his palm smacks against your ass again. He’s not done.
“Always got somethin’ to say, don’t you?” he grunts, hand coming down on you again. “You remember that day I ran you home?”
You whimper in response – yeah, I remember.
“You ‘n me alone, you being a little fucking tease. Wanted to fuck you so badly, baby. Those tight little shorts you were in…fuck…”
“Why…didn’t…you…?” you whine, muffled into the denim of his jeans. “Would’ve…fuck…let you.”
“Yeah? You wanted me to, darlin’?”
“Wanted…you,” slap, “in the kitchen.”
You gasp when Joel’s grip becomes tighter around your waist, holding you still as his hand sears against your ass. Rougher. Harder. It turns you on more.
“Wanted you in my mouth.”
You swear his breath catches. Swear you can feel his hand hovering over you, almost ready to spank you again, but he pauses.
“That right, baby? In your mouth?”
You nod, unsure if he can even see you. And then you feel him bend, feel his fist in your hair, lifting your head until his lips are curled around the shell of your ear.
“You wanna show me what you woulda done?” he whispers, breath hot.
Your body’s still shaking, throbbing; you’re a sobbing mess, but still, you utter: “Yeah.”
Joel pulls you all the way off his lap then, widening his legs for you to sit between them.
“Gotta be quick, babygirl,” he tells you, pushing you by the shoulders down onto the carpet.
Your knees part to lower yourself closer to his crotch, fingers shakily fumbling with his zipper. Joel helps you, shifting his jeans until his cock springs free. He’s as hard as if you’d been playing with him this entire time, so hard you almost begin to drool at the sight of him.
He sighs shakily, hand leaning behind on the mattress to steady himself. “You’re gonna sit there like a good girl and make me cum, alright?”
You nod, eyes blown black with lust.
He grips the back of your head with one hand and guides his cock to your mouth with the other. You take his thick length in both hands, allowing a trail of spit to fall from your lips and cover his swollen tip, running down his shaft only to be collected and dragged back up by your fingers.
“Good girl,” Joel whispers, watching you. “Doin’ what I tell you, huh?”
A few strokes and his cock’s soaked. When his head lines up with your bottom lip and you open up wide, he pushes into your mouth, filling you up without stopping to let you catch your breath. You gag when he hits the back of your throat, and Joel groans.
“Know you can take it, baby, you’ve done it before. That’s my girl.”
You whimper in response, mouth full of his cock.
“Keep makin’ those pretty noises, whole hotel’s gonna be wonderin’ what’s goin’ on up here.”
He allows you a second to pull off of him, gasping for air when your mouth’s free again.
“Want ‘em to hear,” you choke out, lips slipping back down his cock.
“Yeah?” he bucks his hips up into your mouth. “You want ‘em to know? Why don’t I just take you downstairs right now, fuck you in front of everybody, huh? You like that?”
You whine, gasp something that sounds like a yes around his warm skin.
“Thought you would, fuckin’ dirty girl. Want everyone to see just how good you take me, hm? How fuckin’ wet you get for me?”
Your fingers reach for his balls, kneading them softly in your hands. Joel’s head tips back and he lets out a guttural groan.
“Look at you,” he purrs, “soakin’ wet all over the floor, lettin’ me fuck that pretty little mouth. Needed it bad, didn’t you?”
You follow the words he’s saying with your eyes, never taking your doe-eyed gaze off of him. He’s all you can see; the surrounding world blurred by lust and sex and by Joel.
“Been thinkin’ about this all fuckin’ day,” he mutters.
You pull yourself off of him, disobeying his tight grip at the back of your head.
“Yeah?” you breathe, giving in to him. “Been thinkin’ about you, too.”
Joel almost looks surprised, like he wasn’t expecting that to come out of your mouth. He’s never expecting any of what you say to come out of your mouth, is he?
Hell, you don’t expect half of what comes out of your fucking mouth these days.
You sink back down on him, eyes screwing shut with the feeling of him filling you up to the very bottom of your throat.
“So slutty, baby. You like that? Yeah?”
He’s speaking so soft but being so fucking rough, pushing you down onto his dick and then hauling you back off with a fistful of hair. His hips snap against your mouth and your hands leave his body to balance yourself on his thighs, stabilizing yourself with fingers through his loose belt loops.
You’re gagging on him, choking every time his salty head brushes against your throat, but Joel doesn’t stop. Each whimper, each muffled cry from you only pushes him closer, sends his head back in a wave of euphoria at the sight of you taking his cock in your mouth so good, the sounds of you choking on the size of him.
Your chin is soaked, dripping with spit and precum. Your cheeks dappled with tears. He doesn’t let up. You don’t fucking want him to. Your knees are slipping further apart, your cunt wetter than ever, dripping all over the plush carpet of the classiest hotel you’ve ever been in.
It’s fucking filthy, and you love every second of it.
Your lids grow heavy and you stare up at him, doused in rays from the window behind, blissed out on his body, him blissed out on yours, and you know he’s about to cum. His brows arch, his jaw falls slack. He’s focusing only on the feeling of your swollen lips around him, your throat contracting with each thrust of his hips.
He jerks, grunts out a, “Throat?”
“Uhuh,” you choke back, hands clamping around his thighs when he leans back.
One more jolt and he releases rope after rope of warm cum down you, painting the back of your throat and filling up your mouth. That all-too-familiar taste of Joel trickles all over your tongue.
He’s whispering, “Fuck, fuck, darlin’, fuck…” over and over, chanting your name, breathing curses and praises between.
When he stills and you feel him relax, your hands fall limp on your lap. You don’t move, not until Joel’s eyes flutter open and he slides his soft cock out of your mouth.
Your head rolls onto his thigh, eyes wide and soft as you gaze up at him. Equal parts enamored and painfully aroused.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he tells you. “Brats don’t get to fucking cum.”
There are words coming to your mind that you wouldn’t dare call him when he’s in this mood. Words you wouldn’t call him any other time, either, if it weren’t for the agonizing ache between your legs. This – fucking – guy.
You want to sob. Want to wrap yourself around his legs as he stands and beg him to throw you down on the bed, part your legs, use whatever the fuck he wants just to let you cum. Just to give you some release.
It’s pathetic. You’re pathetic. Dumb for this man.
He sits forward and tucks his limp cock back into his boxers, redoes his jeans. Then he leans down, scoops up your soaked panties and scrunches them in his fist. He slips them into his jeans pocket and, with a heaving sigh, pushes himself up from the bed.
You’re still squatted, knees apart, on the carpet. Arousal probably streaming out of you. Joel only lowers his hand and you take it, letting him pull you up to height. You still don’t believe he’s gonna let you walk out of here undealt with.
Until he wanders off toward the door, and there’s nothing left for you to do but follow.
Each step hurts, your thighs grazing against each other. Your naked cunt throbbing with every tiny movement.
Joel pauses at the door, turns the handle slowly, quietly, opening it just enough to poke his head and shoulders out, before beckoning you forward with a wave of his hand.
He blindly takes your wrist and leads you out of the room in a daze, letting the door close over as you both head back the way you came toward the staircase.
Under spotless chandeliers, past romantic paintings. Along the same plush carpet he’d shoved you along less than twenty minutes ago. Down the stairs, emerging at the bar, pair of you scanning the restaurant for your dad and Sarah. No sign of them.
“C’mon,” he nudges you, “still gotta get that bill.”
You stand by Joel’s side at the bar, catching a glimpse of the pair of you in the mirror opposite. Elbows touching, palms inches apart on the polished surface. Your heart swells to the point of almost hurting at the sight. The cover is back up, you’re back on planet earth; you’re nothing but a pair of acquaintances, friends at best.
Just a guy and his best bud’s daughter.
Joel’s tapping his credit card against the wood.
“What’s up?” you ask him.
“Hm?” he replies, eyes finding you, head still facing forward. Almost bracing for your dad’s appearance at any given moment.
“You’re being weird.”
“Ain’t being weird.”
“Still not gonna let me cum?”
He’s almost startled. You asked it quiet enough that nobody would’ve heard, if there were even anybody around you, but still. It feels like dangerous territory talking about it this out in the open.
“Nope,” he replies, chewing on the inside of his cheek.
“You know I’m gonna do it myself the second I get home, right?”
He shrugs. “You gonna call me?”
“Facetime you, if you want.”
His body goes rock solid. You knock into it, smirking. Before he can muster up a reply, the girl with the tattoo shows back up, smiling at Joel. He tells her the table number and she slides him the bill.
“How much is it?” you ask him.
He turns to look at you. “You won’t be findin’ out.”
You mock offense. A small part of you isn’t kidding. “’n why’s that?”
Joel ignores you. You twist over his arm to get a look and he bats you away, holding you at bay with his elbow while he places his card over the total amount and slides it back across the bar.
You admit defeat, though it kills you a little inside.
Joel does his little head nod again and you follow him to the exit. You walk out of the restaurant together, your chin as high as your shame will allow it, Joel’s parallel to his chest. Your dad’s stood against the truck deep in conversation with Sarah. Or, rather, Sarah’s deep in conversation at your dad.
“…so, she thought he was just textin’ his boys, but here she goes onto his Instagram messages, and it’s all these hearts, all these messages sayin’…”
“Where did you two get to?”
Joel opens the door for you silently, and you breathe a slightly awkward Thanks before climbing in.
Once he’s back in the front seat alongside your dad, he replies. “Charged me twice. Problem with the card reader.”
“I hope they apologized,” your dad says with a concerned tone. “Hope they ain’t tryin’ anythin’.”
“Nah,” Joel bats it away – unconvincingly. Or is that just because you know he just…you know.
Sarah’s still yapping – Kelly’s heartbroken, doesn’t know how she’s gonna go on. She – Sarah – is furious with Kelly’s boyfriend – ex-boyfriend? – his name is…Mike? Mick? Something beginning with M…Your ears are screaming.
“Happened to me once at a gas station. Charged twice for one tank a’ gas. I went back the next day ‘n asked the girl, she said she didn’t remember me. I showed her the bank statement, said, Why the hell would I need two tanks of gas for one vehicle? She had to call her manager. It was…insanity, Joel. You be careful.”
Joel’s pretending to listen, murmuring Right and Uhuh when appropriate, but he aims every second glance at you from the rearview mirror. You tug your skirt as far down your thighs as it’ll go, feeling exposed and guilty and ashamed and yet so fucking good all in one.
You can still taste him on your tongue. Your throat feels raw, your jaw sore. He knows it, from the looks he’s giving you in the mirror. It’s satisfaction, mixed with longing, mixed with guilt. Your underwear is in his front pocket. Your thighs clamp shut, feeling yourself seeping all over his backseat. One big, chaotic mess.
The car falls into silence, Sarah’s thumbs typing rapidly, Joel’s elbow propped against the window, cheek leaning on his knuckles. You lean your own head against the window, the engine drumming into your skull, the cold of the glass relieving your scorching skin. Your dad starts quietly singing again, and you wish you had the energy to put on a convincing voice to tell him to shut up.
“Maybe tomorrow a bullet may find me, tonight, nothing’s worse than this pain in my heart.”
----------
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I Should Tell You - Chapter 1
༺Summary༻
In a fit of guilt, Astarion tries to confess his deception to you. At the last moment, he loses his nerve and ends your relationship with another lie. He's resigned himself to having lost his chance with you forever when once again everything changes. With the two of you out on your own, will he be able to take a chance and tell you everything, and will you forgive him when he does?
༺Pairing༻ Astarion x Female Reader
༺Warnings༻ Sexual references
༺Word Count༻ 1888
Astarion was, well, he was loath to admit it, but he was brooding. He’d taken up a private room at the Elfsong now that everything was over, one where he could keep protected from the sun while the rest of his companions, yourself included, lived their lives in the light of day. Slowly, condemned back to the shadows, locked in his room with drapes drawn tight against the burning daylight, he’d drifted further and further away from the group. Culminating in tonight, where he had one perfunctory drink at the farewell party and slipped off away from the group to hide out amongst his books and the shadows of his mind.
For the last several weeks, everyone had put their all into assisting Baldur’s Gate in starting to rebuild. Those who were left anyway, Wyll and Karlach were in Avernus, and Lae’zel was off to wage war on Vlaakith. Now those who were left would be parting ways as well, Shadowheart to see the world, Gale back to Waterdeep, Jaheira and Minsc to rebuild the Baldur’s Gate Harpers, and you and Halsin…hells, he didn’t want to know.
If he were being honest with himself, which felt like it was to be avoided these days, there was more to his self-imposed exile than returning to a nocturnal life. Seeing the two of you together made it feel like a dagger was shoved between his ribs and playing around with his insides.
And the worst part was, it was all his fault. He couldn’t be mad at you or the infuriatingly perfect Druid. Well, he shouldn’t anyway, he still found himself wanting to shred Halsin’s throat with his teeth every time he pulled you close and kissed you like you were a goddess he was paying worship to. He’d done it to himself though, weaving a web of lies and manipulations so dense he’d trapped himself while you slipped through, unscathed.
That web became too entangled with the way you’d stood firm against that Drow, for him. You’d seen him as a person, and he’d repaid that by seeing you as a pawn. At least at first. By the time you shouted at that vile creature on his behalf, he’d become so hopelessly lost in the strands of feeling that had grown and wrapped around his heart, he knew he had to give up the plan, and give you the truth, even if you hated him for it.
As soon as your group had made camp that night, not far enough from the shadows of Moonrise Towers for anyone's comfort, he'd made his way over to you. “I want to thank you,” he’d started, sure of his course. “For what you said whilst in front of that vile Drow…
“...You made me realize I never stopped thinking like his slave.” He drew in a breath, despite the fact that he didn’t need it, and froze. Patiently, you stared up at him with that affectionate look you always had, giving him space to collect his thoughts. You, the fount of warmth and sweetness he didn’t deserve, the love he couldn’t hope to keep. Frantically, he willed himself to speak, to tell you what you needed to know, no matter the consequences.
“And I realize I don’t think I’m ready for a relationship.” The words had spilled out of his lips before he could think them through and he watched as your eyes widened in hurt.
“Gods no, what the fuck are you doing,” he cursed himself, but still the words came.
“Being with someone still feels tainted, I need to figure out who I am, what I want.” Finally, he’d bitten down on his own tongue to stop the tide, but the damage was done.
Those loving eyes of yours sparkled with tears, but that composure he’d begrudgingly come to admire since he met you held firm. “Is this really what you want, Astarion?”
“No, no, no. I want you, I want it to be real.” If he gave you the truth and you sent him away, he couldn’t bear it. At least this way he could salvage your friendship, still bask in your light from time to time. The excuse was flimsy, even to himself, but he’d been a liar from the start.
“I think it's for the best, I'm sorry.” Twice, he’d lied to you, twice, there would never be any coming back from this. “Please don't be mad at me.”
You stepped forward and he instinctively came close to cowering away. But you weren’t intent on harming him, instead wrapping your arms around him in a gentle embrace. “I think I understand. I’m not mad if this is what you need.”
Your arms felt as though they were crushing him, their touch burning his skin. The urge to pull away and flee was almost overwhelming. But you deserved this one last bit of comfort. “Thank you,” he murmured, resting his head on your shoulder, breathing you in, and resigning himself to a life without this.
After you finally pulled away, you went to his tent and packed your things, leaving to set up on your own and let him endure the night without you at his side. There was a time when he’d never believe his own space could feel so empty. Back in the spawn dormitory, he would have given anything for this solitude. Now it was wretched. And so his first night alone was passed in miserable resolution, and when the day dawned, he went on as though all was right.
It wasn’t lost on him that you would eventually find other companionship, you were attractive, witty, brave, and immensely caring. And from what he’d seen, you certainly weren’t interested in a celibate lifestyle. That line of reasoning still didn't prepare him for the night the group camped outside Rivington.
Astarion had just returned from a hunt, the blood of a rabbit fresh on his tongue. It wasn’t you but he hadn’t dared ask to touch your neck after everything, electing to spend his trance hours dreaming of those moments between you instead. It was better than the nightmares of Cazador and his tortures at least. As he’d crept into the circle of ruined buildings that camp had been set up in, he stopped short, the world feeling as though it was closing in around him.
You were talking to Halsin, who held one of your hands in his, and somehow, even with his ridiculously large hands, delicately brushed a strand of hair behind your ear with the otherl. Time slowed and Astarion felt as though the blood in his stomach might make its way back out of his mouth.
In the dim firelight, the stars gleaming without a cloud to obscure them, Halsin kissed you. Softly, slowly at first, and then his hands wandered to your hips to pull you in as he deepened it. Your hands came to rest on those broad shoulders and instead of pulling away as Astarion desperately hoped you would, you leaned into it, eager and wanting. He wasn’t close enough, but Astarion could swear he heard the little moan you probably made. The same sound you used to make for him.
Halsin stared down at you after breaking the kiss, no doubt with naked lust written on his face, and offered you his hand again. And that was the that, the two of you began to quietly walk away from camp while Astarion fled to his tent, crawling into his bedroll and desperately choking down the sobs that threatened.
It had been bound to happen, but how soon, was what burned from the inside out. Just like that, you’d forgotten all about him, as though he hadn’t mattered in the first place. How dare you. He tried to summon anger with you, to wash away the pain. It was a betrayal, he had every right to be angry. You waited for no time at all, you moved on so easily, you…you just forgot he loved you.
Not that he’d ever said it, but you must have known. The bedroll was even colder than usual as Astarion clung to the one object he found comfort in. Kept secreted away amongst his things, a shirt of yours he managed to pilfer before his botched confession. By day, it was tucked in his pack, and at night it filled his bedroll beside him. Pulling it into his arms, he inhaled what was left of your scent on it, and buried his face in the pillow to weep bitter tears.
He emerged the next morning into daylight that no longer held the promise it had so recently. Almost immediately you ran to him, taking your arm in his, giving him a moment of foolish hope. If things had gone badly between you and Halsin, he would rectify his mistake and tell you everything, he privately swore.
All it took was one look in your eyes to know that hope was in vain. “Astarion, I need to tell you something, and I wanted you to hear it from me first.” You led him away from the rest of the group, almost to the spot where he’d seen you with Halsin. The rest of your companions pretended not to notice the obvious personal moment occurring a stone's throw away from them.
It was a good thing he'd cried every tear he had last night. “Well go on Darling, don't keep me in suspense,” he plastered on a grin.
“The thing is,” you look everywhere but at him, “Halsin and I, well, things happened between us last night, and I think I'd like to pursue whatever this is. It just felt right to tell you first.”
Astarion laughed, a hollow sound to his own ears, but convincing enough for you, it seemed. “My Dear, you were worrying yourself about this? Don't vex your pretty little head like that, I don't begrudge your need for intimacy. Even if I fail to understand the appeal of a man who's always going on about enjoying the freedom of nature's gifts.”
“Astarion,” you scolded, but a subtle smile told him you were relieved. “Behave yourself.”
“Let me have a little fun at your expense.” He disentangled his arm from yours, its warmth suddenly smothering. Taking your hand, he kissed it gently. “I'm glad, you deserve to be happy.” That part he did mean, even as he reviled how it was happening. “And I'm sure you and Halsin will be. Don't worry about me.”
“Please worry about me. Can't you see how I'm bleeding?”
Leaning up, you kissed his cheek, with all the gentleness in the world. “Thank you, Astarion, I'm glad you understand, I'd never want to hurt you.”
From that moment on, you were Halsin's and Astarion had to grin and pretend to be happy for you. That's what friends were for and you insisted you two were friends. The two of you seemed so disgustingly infatuated with each other, he wanted to scream at times. So naturally he'd assumed you'd be happily headed out on some grand, romantic journey together.
Which was why it startled him to nearly a second death when you burst into his claimed sanctuary, clearly distraught and slamming the door behind you. “I'm sorry… I can't be in there,” you gasped out between sobs.
@micropoe10 @writingmysanity @mxxny-lupin @azu21
Tag List:
@tallymonster @dependsonthedream @sunfire-ancunin
@bambamwolf87 @fayeriess @lumienyx @lisrelly
@elora-the-slutty-songstress @bhaalbaaby @spacebarbarianweird
@satanicspinosaurus @darlingxdragon @wanderingisobel @astarionsbeloved
@vixstarria @claryvoyantfray @icybluepenguin
#bg3#astarion#baldurs gate 3#astarion x reader#x reader#astarion x tav#baldur's gate 3 fanfic#my fanfic#my writing#i should tell you
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𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑ teen!nanami headcanons
love my emo king so i decided to make headcanons for him because love himso sosooo MUCH <3 I am obsessed with nanami I am sorry guys for the amount of nanami but he is my beloved and my hyperfixation wooooooooooo
lmk if i should make an emo teen nanami as ur bf headcanon ill gladly do it sweetie pies
He is much quieter as a child and rarely speaks. I believe he will be more reserved as a teenager, not because he is shy, but because he dislikes talking to strangers. He is distant, but not unfriendly.
Haibara is the only person who is allowed in his room, and I do not make the rules.
Owned an iPod/iPod touch (even though Nanami is the Samsung king) and he would stream his little emo bands.
As a teenager, he appears to be more immature and irrational, displaying difficulty in controlling his emotions sometimes. Despite his calm exterior, he is still a teenage boy so he has regular outbursts here and there.
HATED IT when he tried one of Shoko’s cigarettes; he most likely took one puff and began to cough as though he was going to die.
Sassy king who rolls his eyes and emo hair flips at least 7 times per second, 24/7.
“Nanami, can you do that thing?”
"Do not bother me at this time, Gojo."
“OH MY GOD YOU DID IT.”
"What did I do."
"The hair flip thing... hahaha you need to cut your bangs."
"I prefer to keep it this way so I can focus on you with one eye and spare the other from seeing more of your face."
Haibara is an extrovert who encourages him to attend events and socialize with others.
His backpack is tidy. His books are neatly organized, and his papers are not crammed together.
He was forced to go to karaoke rooms with Shoko, Geto, Gojo, and Haibara, where he would sit and listen to them sing loudly.
"C'mon, Nanami... sing!"
"..."
“Please?"
"..."
It turns out he was singing all along, albeit softly and quietly, while they sang along loudly to the screen lyrics.
He spaces out a lot when people talk to him because he just wants to go home.
Haibara is subtly affectionate towards him, wrapping his arm around his shoulder like many guys do. He doesn't push him off, but the other guy freezes and maintains some distance.
He once woke up from a nap and found himself wearing eyeliner, black nail polish, and eyeshadow. He immediately ran out to scold Gojo (it wasn't just him) (but he secretly liked it).
"Gojo, what the fuck is this?"
"This is your culture!"
"Please refrain from touching me while I am sleeping."
“Hey! Who said it was only me?”
“Jesus Christ.”
Probably got a double helix piercing (that eventually healed when he became an adult) (sorry guys).
(Though he still has his earlobe piercings as an adult, he just never really wears earrings anymore. Though you can see the various holes.)
Geto accompanied him to get piercings, and despite feeling nervous at first, he ended up loving the experience and feeling badass.
"It feels good, right?"
"Oh, yeah, I suppose," he mumbled, trying to suppress a broad smile. As he arrived at his dorm, a dorky grin spread across his face. He stood in front of the mirror for several hours, hyping himself up.
Listens to My Chemical Romance, Nirvana, Van Halen, Metallica, Guns N' Roses, AC/DC, Linkin Park, Green Day, Foo Fighters, The Strokes, and Paramore. And more. :)
He would probably like gothic characters from cartoons or shows, like Raven from Teen Titans.
If you quietly make your way into his dorm room while he's listening to music, you'll catch him singing out the lyrics to his beloved emo songs. As the music moves him, he'll start air guitaring and air drumming with fervor. However, if he catches you witnessing his private performance, you'll see a flicker of embarrassment cross his face.
Gojo once tried to dye one of his hair strands purple or blue, but he failed. Instead of turning the strand the desired color, it only lightened his hair slightly, resulting in a lighter shade of blonde that looked like gray hair.
"Gojo, you made me look like a grandfather. I should've done it myself.”
"Looks great on you, Nanami! Fits you too since you kind of act like a grandpa.”
"Oh you, son of a—"
He secretly owns a Tamagotchi named Helena after remembering it is a My Chemical Romance song.
Wept when they split up.
Has secretly attended several concerts, raves, and gatherings, enjoying the kindness and energy of the events.
Has previously used an Ouija board with Gojo, Geto, and Haibara, and the "spirit" liked him.
He goes to the Japanese equivalent of a Hot Topic to get his clothes.
He smells earthy and musky because he is emo, and he probably has a cologne fragrance bottle shaped like a skull.
He rarely posted on MySpace, and when he did, it was only about his music and book reviews.
Likely wore a fake lip piercing, a silver skull necklace, and one of those spikey emo bracelets.
Read Scott Pilgrim comics for a while.
He was not too dry, so he used emoticons like "-_-" "-.-" "._. ".-." "^_^"
In his spare time, he enjoys reading books about horror and mystery.
Owned a black Nintendo DS and always handed it to Haibara so he could play with it. Was not upset when Haibara accidentally dropped it in the water, but was sad that he lost his Pokemon progress.
Never had a genuine crush on someone, though when he does he becomes shy and awkward around the person he has a crush on, often finding himself avoiding them like the plague. Whenever he catches sight of them, uncertainty clouds his mind, nerves all over the place.
Despite his efforts to suppress his feelings, they only seem to intensify. This is his first experience with a serious crush, and his initial reaction is to try to shake off the emotions, but he soon realizes that he can't - he's simply head over heels in love.
Whenever he sees them, he does a cute, dorky thing - he goes to his mirror, fixes his bangs, and hypes himself up. He sprayed more cologne than usual, coughed a little, and made sure his skull necklace, helix piercings, and slight eyeshadow looked good. He gives himself several minutes for a pep talk because he still gets so nervous.
He fidgets a lot, constantly finding ways to occupy his hands even when he appears outwardly calm. It's as if he can't help but engage in some form of repetitive movement, whether it's tapping his fingers, twirling a pen, or adjusting his sleeves.
He also stammers a bit sometimes especially when talking to someone he likes.
Talks to Haibara about how he feels most of the time. Out of everyone he trusts Haibara.
He draws on himself when he is bored. He intended to get a tattoo, so he drew on himself to see how it would look.
He has a journal, emphasizing that it's not a diary, where he writes down his emotions. He finds solace in jotting down his innermost feelings as he often struggles to express them verbally.
In his journal, not a diary, he vents a lot. He is frustrated with himself because he is so bad at expressing his emotions. When he wants to, he can't, and he just pushes people away, which he despises.
"Sometimes I wonder why. Why do I have to be like this? I do want to talk to people and express my emotions to them, but I could never. It genuinely scares me, and that is something I want to fix about myself."
Owns several band shirts and wears them to bed. When he is older, they're smaller on him. I wonder why.
When he's out with Haibara and the group, he always wears his headphones and drifts off while listening to music.
“NA-NA-MIIIII!”
*pretends not to hear gojo*
In the modern world, he would be the quiet student who consistently gets top grades, sits at the back of the class, and rarely participates.
When someone shares the same interests as him he tries not to look too excited but ultimately fails.
As a teenager, he adamantly refuses to pursue a romantic relationship but secretly desires one to fulfill his need for affection.
Thus, he spends his time reading romantic novels, gaining insights into how the male protagonists treat their significant others. This newfound knowledge inspires him to learn how to treat his future significant other.
Even though he is mature for his age, he sometimes wishes he had been raised differently. He genuinely feels like he is wasting his youth by not spending more time being a teenager.
Converse + Vans are his specialty and they’re all beat up.
He sees Geto as a fashion inspiration because he is another emo king.
When he's not in uniform, he enjoys wearing oversized, tucked-in T-shirts paired with sleek black pants and a studded belt. His fingers are adorned with multiple rings, and he complements this look with a sleek black watch.
He always spends an extra dollar to buy someone something from the vending machine. Need a soda? He gotcha.
He always seems to be munching on something, whether it's the crunch of Doritos or potato chips. However, he doesn't seem to have as much of a sweet tooth.
an emo king who deserves the world
a/n: i love my goat
#kento nanami#nanami headcanons#kento nanami headcanons#nanami kento#jjk nanami#jujutsu kaisen headcanons#jujustu kaisen#jjk#jjk x reader#jjk headcanons#i lovehim#my baby#my precious#nanami kento x reader#emo nanami#jujutsu nanami#kento nanami x reader#kento nanami x you#nanami hcs#my hcs#nanami x reader#kento nanami hcs#nanami kento headcanons#my silly emo boy#the love of my life#i need him#i wish he was real#nanami i love you#im crying#i cant
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read dd zombie au as a horror and zombie enthusiast and I had to say this-
what if darling was bitten but somehow "immune"?
she gets bit, symptoms come in but strangely she doesn't turn. she hungers like a zombie but the thought of hurting someone brings her back.
johnny and simon are kinda happy. you're not a zombie! yay! but the blueish bite on your shoulder says otherwise. at night, they tie your hands to your waist and bind your mouth shut, but apart from sleepy shuffling and grumbling, you don't seem to want to eat them.
the bagged mre's they try to feed you make you gag unless it's suspicious patties, so they guessed you were hungry, just not enough to try to eat them.
strongly believe that johnny treats you like a child. hand feeds you your meals that you reluctantly chew on, washes your hair and braids it ( he knows you hate waking up with tangled hair ) even brushes your teeth for you. he does this because you're too weak and tired to do it yourself ( no he doesn't. he does it because he hates seeing you like this, wishes he could cure you, but he can't. so he makes sure you eat and drink. he needs you. )
simon has seen so many people die to the virus that it feels unreal to him. he's still waiting for you to suddenly snap at him. however, watching the way you stare at him and johnny like you genuinely are there, it reassures him. he tries to talk, have conversations with you, make sure you remember. he despises having to leave you, though. he feels that if he take his eyes off you for a second you might pass or turn.
by the two week mark, you're getting better. the dark circles under your eyes are fading and the hollow dent of your cheeks is getting fuller. the mre's still make you gag, but it seems you'd rather eat those than a squirrel.
there's hope, they think. but if people find out you're immune... they'll try to take you away.
you can't leave them. they'll make sure no one takes you.
BITCH (affectionately) the way this is so fucking good. I LOVE a caretaking fic (clearly) and a protective Simon and Johnny. Love the idea of them on the run, hiding you, protecting you from those who are hunting immunes. Honestly could be an entire book. This scratches my itch so well. Love your brain.
Johnny just wants to take care of you. He knows you’re still in there, knows you’d be so distraught if you realized how filthy they’d let you become, so he takes him time leading you down to the creek by the campsite. He uses one of the t shirts they’ve been using as a washcloth to sponge you clean, humming sweetly to gentle you as you flinch against the water. Your skin is starting to turn back to its normal color now, a recent development that they both feel good about, and you’ve become more sensitive to temperature, occasionally shivering against the chilled cloth. Simon keeps watch, and you watch too, tracking Johnny’s hands with sluggish eyes and a half open mouth, tongue flicking between your teeth.
If he didn’t know any better, he’d say you’re preparing to take a bit out of him-
“Just gon’ brush yer teeth, darling.” He cradles your jaw with strong fingers and your brow furrows, confused when he pops your mouth wide, the little toothbrush you packed for yourself when you evacuated lightly scrubbing across your bottom teeth.
“Be careful, Johnny.” Simon warns, but he clucks his tongue.
“She’s alright. Cannae hurt me.” He knows you wouldn’t. You already would have, at night. Already would have turned on them, ripped their jugulars free with your teeth when they slept.
But you wouldn’t. Because you’re still in there. You’re still darling.
Once he’s done, fixed your hair so that it’s up but not weighing your scalp down, ensured it’s in place how you like, he passes you to Simon so he can make dinner.
Simon walks patrol at this time, and you go with him, listlessly walking at his side.
“D’ya remember last summer, when we all went to that carnival? You were so excited. Made Johnny and I play that bloody ring game against one another. You were so chuffed, I swear I can still hear you giggling when Johnny beat me the first time.” You moaned in response, something that didn’t sound quite like words, but more positive to negative.
Something catches his eye. A deer in the woods. A doe. Sizable. He glances from you, to it.
“Darling.” He holds your shoulder, trying to jog your gaze. “Darling, I need you to stay here.” He doesn’t want to leave you, but if he can get closer, he can get a clean shot off. You stare at him, and he sighs. “Alright.”
He makes it ten meters before the brush rustles behind him, the sight of you lumbering slowly towards where he’s crouched. You’re staring past him, watching doe with a glazed over look, and he tenses.
Once you get to his side, you look down to where he’s kneeling behind a bush, and then you start to, painfully slow, crouch beside him, fingers lightly brushing against his thigh.
You look at him, and then at the deer with a grunt. The hope that blooms in his heart is infectious, and he can’t fight it. He won’t.
Weeks later, they’re on the road when they come across a group of others.
You’ve improved, greatly, but your ability to speak never came back. You can’t talk, only point and make little noises here and there, and your fine motor skills are still struggling, (Johnny is still brushing your teeth for you, and feeding you. He doesn’t complain, they both have always loved taking care of you) and your pace is very slow, like you’re sore, and always tired. Simon is careful to go easy, not wanting to do anything to stress you or make your condition worse.
The bite mark on your neck has never gone away. It’s a scar now, rough and raised flesh like a fucking beacon on your skin. They usually keep something tied to it, but for some reason on this day, you had pulled it free, and they never noticed.
But the others did.
“Is that a bite?” One of them says, and Simon tenses, positioning himself in front of you, Johnny pulling you into his chest, protective arm across your shoulders.
“No.” Simon tells them, but they don’t buy it. One them stares at you, greed dripping from his gaze.
“Heard there were immunes out there somewhere. NHS is offering a big payday for one alive. Or dead.” He licks his lips, and Simon shakes his head.
“Trust us. Ye dinnae want to do this.” Johnny calls, but the group is already staring at you like you’re worth your weight in gold.
There’s five of them, versus Simon and Johnny, but they like the odds.
They’ve got bullets in three before you even realize what’s happening, Simon’s blade buried in the flesh of another’s neck in a flash, Johnny pressing his weight into the last one on the ground.
“He’ll tell others.” He spits over his shoulder, and Simon nods.
He will. And they can’t allow that. Can’t allow anyone to know about you.
The last thing the man sees is Johnny’s hands around his neck, and you watching half interested over his shoulder, half bored.
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— ♡
dating headcanons
main 4 + butters
— ♡
stan
— definitely the type to bully you but loves you to death
— constantly posting you on social media
— you need him? he’s already there actually he’s been hiding in your walls
— gets super in his head a lot, requires a lot of reassurance & affection
— SUPER FUCKING PROTECTIVE
— some dude’s making you uncomfortable? his hand’s on your shoulder and he’s ready to beat the shit out of him
— the silent but deadly type
— basically no one fucks w his s/o
— but super duper soft
— sticky as fuck
— you thought kenny was a physical touch kinda guy? stan is 10 times worse
— constantly holding your hand or lacing your pinkies together
— prefers quiet nights in over nights out 100%
— movie nights are his absolute fav he loves the cliche holding hands in popcorn thing
— a bit of an alcoholic but never an angry drunk, he’ll be constantly up your ass blubbering about how much he loves you
— “your eyes are so pretty and your face is so pretty and i love your hair like that and how do you smell so good”
kyle
— if he were an anime character he’d be a tsundere for sure
— dislikes pda but in private he has no problem being affectionate
— is super awkward around you, doesn’t really know how to talk to you or how to act
— also prefers quiet nights in but in a totally different way
— would much rather read a book with your legs in his lap than watch a movie
— one phone call away tho don’t get him wrong
— if you need him he’s immediately on his way no questions asked
— very very very very protective
— also the type to hover behind you but the second you give him the go ahead he’s running his mouth
— all bark but also a super gnarly bite
— also super jealous and kind of insecure
— you’re his first real relationship so he’s always scared someone’s gonna steal you away
— the type to give you massages and ask you about your day
— domestic housewife fs, always cooking for you and making sure your house is clean
— always leaves sweet notes for you to wake up to but will never acknowledge them
— overall such a sweetheart, would do anything for you but is a stickler on saying the l word
— thinks it loses its sparkle if it’s said too much
kenny
— sticky horny bastard
— always cuddled up to you or holding your hand or kissing you
— big fan of pda
— if he’s not touching you and he’s in your presence someone’s getting hurt
— loves partying but also loves quality time with you
— would totally go out if you wanted but also would curl up in bed with you if you weren’t feeling it
— always eager to please you
— he’s like a dog, at your beck and call, awaiting your orders
— but don’t touch his s/o or he’ll go nuts
— not really the jealous type but definitely the possessive type
— like he doesn’t get worked up about someone hitting on you, he knows you’re fine as fuck, but the second someone tries to touch you his arms are around you and he’s kissing you
— very much a gentleman
— he makes very misogynistic comments about your body but ultimately you’re a queen and you should never have to lift a finger
— always worshipping the ground you walk on
— definitely a stoner
— giggles at everything you do when he’s high and 100% smokes you out every chance he gets
— he just loves you so much he’d literally combust
eric
— isn’t really one for affection, private or public
— definitely runs his mouth to you
— but the second you get upset he’s crying begging you to stop being mad rubbing your feet
— a messy bitch for sure
— always stirring up drama in the friend group and sitting back watching it all go down with you
— would definitely scheme with you about starting beef
— views you as his queen but treats you as an equal (which is huge for him because everyone is below him)
— hates seeing you cry and would easily tell off whichever son of a bitch did it
— but also wouldn’t hesitate to bully you to the verge of tears
— makes up for it by offering you some of his cheesy poofs
— unspoken acts of affection for sure
— hates going out
— he’d much rather watch a comedy movie and shit on the plot with you
— the type to act like he hates you around his friends but the second you’re in a private setting he’s reminding you that he loves you
— possessive, jealous, protective, the big 3
— kind of like a chihuahua, all bark no bite
— probably also low key an alcoholic but never drunk to the point of being a lovey dovey bitch
butters
— the sweetest boyfriend ever
— panics every time you cry or are upset in any way
— even if he’s grounded he’ll still find a way to talk to you
— if there’s a screen there’s a way
— doesn’t really fall into any category
— kind of just exists, way too happy that you’re dating him to notice anything else
— the type to post you on every social media platform he has
— would shout from the rooftops about how much he loves you
— very acts of service
— would do anything you asked as long as you were happy
— gives you back rubs every night
— sleeps with his head on your chest because he loves to listen to your heartbeat
— physical touch too
— loves holding your hand and caressing your cheeks
— stares at you for hours like “wow i can’t believe my s/o is this perfect”
— makes sure your needs are taken care of before his
— constantly texting you to remind you that he loves you and that you’re perfect in every way
— good morning and goodnight paragraphs even if you live together
— loves you to the moon and back and wants everyone to know it
#stan marsh x reader#kyle broflovski x reader#kenny mccormick x reader#eric cartman x reader#butters stotch x reader#south park x reader
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A Moment's Silence
Pairing: Loki x Reader
Word Count: 3.4k
Warnings: Oral (f receiving). unprotected sex, marking, praise, Loki got a dangerous mouth but this isn't too bad.
Genre: smut & fluff
Summary: Loki hates when you touch him, and you thought you knew exactly why. // A moment's silence when my baby puts her mouth on me ~ Moment's Silence (Common Tongue) by Hozier
***
The first thing Loki learned about you when you moved into the Avengers Tower was that you are touchy. Not in the 'you're too sensitive' way but in the you're very affectionate way. You're always greeting people with hugs and you cuddle whoever sits next to you during movie nights and whenever you're going somewhere with someone you're either holding their hand or linking arms with them. It's pretty different from the rest of the people living here. Except for Thor, no one here shares your affinity for touch but everyone loves you so they take it in stride. Welcoming your hugs and cuddles and hand holds to the point that most of them have become accustomed to it, expecting it more often than they want to admit.
Except Loki. Loki doesn't do touch and no amount of seeing you do it will make him more comfortable with it. You're no fool. You recognized early that although the others complained when you hugged them there was no real fight in their objections, with Loki it's different. He'd go as far as to disappear on you if you tried to hug him so you stopped. You don't hug Loki, or sit by him during movies, or try to grab his arm on the rare occasion that you're going somewhere with him. Honestly, for a while you didn't spend much time with Loki in general, you weren't sure how to. He was clearly a loner and you assumed you didn't have much in common. He didn't seem eager to bond with you either so you left him to his own devices.
Until recently. You've started spending a lot of your free time in the tower library and evidently, Loki is quite fond of the space too. So you kind of just share it. If you find yourself in there at the same time as him you say hello and pick a corner to do your reading. Sometimes you talk to him a bit and other times you just share each other's company. It's becoming a kind of lovely routine, at least in your eyes. You have no idea if Loki enjoys it as much as you actually but he can be pretty conversational on occasion, usually as long as you're not too close to him.
"Hello Loki." You say when he walks into the library. You've already been here a couple of hours, you honestly didn't think you'd see Loki today.
"Hello y/n. How are you today?" He asks.
"Pretty good. How are you?" You set your book face down in your lap as you watch him walk out of sight to one of the shelves.
"I'm alright! What are we reading today?" Loki's voice carries through the room to you.
"I've picked up a romance for now."
"Not legends and myths for once?" You can hear the teasing in his voice at his question.
"Fuck off I read other stuff." You laugh.
"News to me."
"And what will you be reading today god of mischief? Sifting through spells as always?"
"I was thinking poetry actually." Loki finally appears from beyond the stacks with a book in hand.
"You're a poetry fan?"
"Don't sound so surprised." He rolls his eyes as he sits in the armchair across from the couch you're lying on.
"Well, it's not like you use that silver tongue of yours to recite sonnets." You snort picking up your book.
"Some would say this silver tongue of mine has quite a way with words."
"And I'm sure it does but weaving together lies isn't the same as poeticism. No one will be mixing you up with Robert Frost or William Shakespeare." You muse, your attention drifting back to the story you were invested in before he arrived.
"Your midgardian bards are of no competition to a god you know."
"I'm sure Asgard has its own famous poets of which I'm sure no one would compare you to either." You mutter as you read.
"Now that's harsh." Loki says. You mumble an affirmative dismissively as the drama picks up in the chapter you're reading. Loki takes the hint and leaves you alone as he opens his own chosen read for the afternoon and you spend the rest of the day in silence. Until dinner.
"I'm making dinner and it's movie night. Are you joining us or will you stay here?" You ask, standing up.
"Do you want me to join?" Loki asks.
"I mean- not if you're going to be miserable. I'm just headcounting."
"The others aren't usually as welcoming as you can be."
"Well I w-" You stop yourself. You've only just started to form a friendship with Loki, as much as you enjoy spending time with him you can't outwardly say it. Well maybe you could but you have a feeling the skittish animal approach is best. "I wouldn't be... disappointed if you decided to join us."
"I'll think about it." He hums.
"Alright. See you, maybe." You leave with your book intent on finishing it after movie night. You drop it in your room before going to the kitchen to make dinner. Meatballs, mashed potatoes, and broccoli. It takes almost an hour to make enough for everyone and by the time you're done, most everyone's gathered in the living room.
"Dinner's up! Stevie, Bucky come grab the potatoes and broccoli please." You say grabbing the bowl with the meatballs.
"Coming!" Steve says as he and Bucky hop up from their seats and carry the other serving plates to the big table in the living room where the others are waiting.
"And Sam can you get plates for everyone hon." You say.
"Oh sure." Sam says.
"Get the soda from the fridge too! And the solo cups!" Tony calls after him as he heads into the kitchen.
"Man you coulda just got up and helped out like the rest of us." Sam rolls his eyes but he gets the soda and cups anyway in addition to the plates you asked for. You catch movement in the corner of your eye while everyone is serving themselves and your gaze pops up in time to see Loki strolling into the main room.
"Loki!" You smile before you can stop yourself.
"Brother! Will you be joining us for our moving picture night?" Thor asks.
"Yeah sure." Loki says.
"Brilliant!" Thor nods getting up to clap a hand on Loki's back.
"I made meatballs and broccoli and mashed potatoes if you'd like some. We were just getting settled before we start the movie." You tell him. To your surprise, Loki takes the empty seat beside you and you can only hope your shock doesn't show on your face.
"I haven't missed anything then?" Loki asks.
"Not really." You shake your head. Loki nods and serves himself food.
"Whose pick is it tonight?" You ask once everyone has food in front of them and a few of the boys have already started eating.
"The kid." Tony says, shoveling mashed potatoes into his mouth.
"Yeah! I uh decided on Now You See Me." Peter says.
"Nice." Natasha nods.
"What is that?" Loki asks you.
"It's a heist movie." You tell him. "Peter, have you seen it before?" You ask.
"Uh-"
"It's not like the baby spider's gonna be attempting anything like this." Clint scoffs.
"That's not why I asked. I'm just wondering if he picked it because he wants to watch it for the first time or because it's a favorite." You roll your eyes.
"I've seen it once. I just thought it would be a fun watch." Peter says.
"Well let's start it then. Yes?" Wanda prompts. Peter sets up the movie and soon everyone's attention is on the screen as they eat. It's about halfway through the movie that your usual habits kick in and you lean over to place your head on the shoulder beside you- until you remember it's Loki by your side and Loki doesn't like being touched. You lull your head back and around to tilt the other way. Wanda's on your other side but she's cuddled up with Vision so you'll just chill with your head against the back of the couch. No biggie. One movie bleeds to the next though and apparently at some point you start drifting off. Not for long, maybe 5 minutes but when your eyes flutter open again your head has made its way to Loki's damn shoulder. You pull off when you realize, surprised he didn't shove you away whenever you landed there.
Loki had held his breath when he felt your head on his shoulder. He was reluctant to admit the weight felt- oddly comforting. If anyone asked he'd deny it to high heaven but he was pretty content with you leaning against him and when you'd woken up and abruptly moved he almost wanted to protest. Almost.
When the second movie ends, most of the others start cleaning up the living room. Since you made dinner, this part isn't your responsibility so you get up and excuse yourself from the group.
"Goodnight everybody." You say to the room. "And Loki, thank you for coming." You add just for him to hear. Before you can think better of it your hand runs gently through his hair when you speak to him but by the time he's reacting to it you're already disappearing down the hall to your room. Loki spends the rest of the night thinking about your hand in his hair, your head on his shoulder, the way you so casually thanked him at the end as you left- it was something so unfamiliar that he didn't know how to deal with it. And how insufferable to be up all night over this.
The next day when you enter the library after breakfast Loki is already there sitting on the couch in your usual shared space. You're almost done with the novel you picked up yesterday and your plan is to finish it now.
"Hello Loki." You say to him as you take a seat on the opposite couch.
"Hello y/n." He says. You don't notice the way he looks at you over the top of his book for a moment. He's not sure if he should talk to you about the night before or not. How would he even bring it up? The two of you maintain your usual quiet company for a few hours while you finish your book. When you've read the last page you return the book to the shelf you found it on. While walking back to your couch you almost crash into Loki who at some point stood up when you were looking for a new book.
"Oh shit- my bad Lo." You say.
"You dropped your bookmark." Loki says holding up the flat dragon-shaped metal. You gasp and pat your back pocket where you thought you'd put it.
"Fuck- thanks. It was a gift so- would totally suck to lose it." You say, throwing your arms around him. Loki doesn't feel the urge to magically escape your grasp and he almost stops you when you let him go. Almost. "Sorry- impulse." You mutter grabbing your bookmark from his hand.
"You're usually much better at not touching me." He points out.
"I guess we've been spending so much time together that I kind of forg- sorry man. Won't happen again." You mutter.
"I wasn't- I know that's what you're like. It wasn't a complaint. Just an observation."
"You can say it wasn't a complaint but I know what you're like too. You hate being touched." You scoff.
"That's not totally accurate."
"What?"
"Usually you're right- I do hate being touched but with you I don- it's not that I hate it but I still can't stand it just- in a different way than I'm used to." Loki says carefully.
"What does that mean?" You chuckle.
"I'm- not entirely sure." He frowns.
"Well, what if I- do you mind if I touch you now?" You ask carefully.
"That's- fine." Loki says, hesitation clear on his face. You lift your hand to his cheek gently and his eyes close when your skin touches his. You let your thumb graze him softly as his brow furrows. Loki's hand snaps up around your wrist moments later and he moves your hand just enough to break the contact. "I can't-"
"What is it?"
"Too much- it's too much. I feel- entirely too much when you touch me, I can't-"
"Can't what?" You tilt your head curiously.
"I don't know how to handle it. I want- I want more than I can have."
"Say more, please."
"When you... do that. When you touch me it- I don't know how to explain it I just want more from you. Like- like I could devour you whole and it would still not be enough and I- I can't, we can't- so you can't touch me."
"Why can't we?"
"What?" Loki's eyes widen at your calm question.
"You're saying we can't but- why? Is it- is it that this is a desire you have but wish you didn't or-"
"No. That's not it."
"Then- why... can't... we?"
"Please don't say things like that. Not if you don't mean them. I cannot take it."
"I wouldn't say it lightly. I don't understand why you're so adamant that I wouldn't want- that you couldn't have more from me if you asked."
"If I asked?"
"Yes. Tell me what it is you want from me Loki."
"Why would you make such an offer?"
"Why wouldn't I?"
"Nobody wants-" Loki pauses, his gaze dropping as if the floor is more interesting to look at than you. "I just wonder how this is advantageous to you in any way."
"Do you think yourself that undeserving?" You frown and his eyes snap up to yours.
"I never said-"
"You don't always have to. Sometimes it's what we don't say that ends up being the loudest." You say. "I'm going to touch you again Loki. This time when it gets too much just- give into that feeling."
"You have no idea what you're signing up for." Loki's eyes are wide.
"I trust you." You whisper and his features melt into a soft grin, as if your words settled something within him. You place your hand on his cheek again, watching his eyes flutter shut as he leans into your touch. The moment stretches for a while until Loki's hands settle on your waist and pull you against him to bring his lips to yours.
The kiss is soft, hesitant, at first- as if he's expecting you to withdraw, but when you drape your arms loosely over his shoulders and deepen the kiss all manner of shyness seems to leave him. The kiss becomes harsher, more desperate, as if he's trying to devour you and give you all he is at once. You match him moment for moment, tongues dancing, hands roaming as you pour everything into that kiss. Loki lifts you and you wrap your legs around him. You pepper his face with sweet kisses as he carries you to one of the couches.
"Are you sure you want to give yourself to me?" Loki asks quietly.
"Are you sure you want to give yourself to me?" You turn the question back to him and he drops to his knees in front of you.
"I have given myself to you a thousand times over, long before now. I belong to you without question." His eyes pierce yours with their intensity as you allow his words to sink in. You almost can't believe he's said it but there's no denying the truth in his voice when he stares at you so earnestly. You clutch his face in your hands, meeting his gaze with equal candor.
"Then you may have me Loki. I am happy to give myself to you." You tell him and he lets out a deep breath. He says something to himself before tugging at the waist of your shorts. You help him take them off of you along with your panties before he speaks again.
"I have wondered for too long how you would taste on my tongue." Loki mutters as he spreads your legs. Before you can fully process the sentence to come up with a response, Loki buries his face at the apex of your thighs. He licks a stripe along your entrance, collecting the evidence of your arousal, letting out a groan as the essence of you floods his tastebuds. You gasp, threading your fingers into his dark hair as his tongue plunges into you, caressing your inner walls, lapping at your juices.
"Oh- oh god." You breathe out, your back arching towards Loki's eager mouth. He groans against you, the vibrations only adding to your pleasure as you squirm against his face. Loki brings his hands up to your thighs, holding you still and open for him as he switches focus, dragging his tongue against your clit in the most delicious way. His movements are sharp, calculated, his eyes on you as he watches what pulls the strongest reactions from you and focuses on those things until your body tenses beneath his hands. Loki pushes two fingers between your walls and curls them as his mouth latches onto your button. The combination is deadly and you can't stop the cry you let out as your orgasm hits you full force. Loki gently works you through it with his fingers and tongue and only when your breathing goes from harsh pants to shuttering draws does he sit back. He makes a point to link his fingers clean when your eyes flutter open.
"Even better than I expected." He says.
"What?" You ask with a breathless chuckle.
"How you taste, the sight of you in pure pleasure, the feel of your skin against mine- all of it, even better than I imagined." Loki punctuates each item on his list with a trail of kisses until he's hovering over you.
"Yes well, how nice to learn that silver tongue of yours is good for more than smart remarks." You smirk and pull him down into a kiss, tasting yourself on his lips and not caring, you simply want to be connected like this forever. Your hands trail down Loki's abdomen, freeing him from his own pants which he shoves the rest of the way off when you can no longer push them yourself. His kisses drop to your neck as he does so.
"You'll have plenty of time to learn all that my silver tongue is good for." He mutters against your skin. You giggle at his words a bit though it's shortlived as Loki chooses that moment to rock his hips into yours and the stretch of his length turns your giggle to a gasp. He takes his time working himself between your walls, allowing you to feel every single inch of him as he pushes deeper and deeper until he eventually bottoms out with a groan. "Stars above you're so- warm." He pants out. He's not moving, you realize, waiting for you to adjust so you tilt your hips forward, grinding against him impatiently.
"Loki please- move." You mewl and that's all it takes. Loki's hips knock back and he drives into you with full force, setting an even pace of deep thrusts meant for you to feel every drag of his dick against your walls.
"This- I'm sure, is Valahala." Loki pants out as he's fucking into you.
"So good- Loki it feels so good." You slip your hands into his shirt, dragging your nails across his back.
"I know my darling. I know." Loki hisses at the sweet sting from your claws. His rhythm doesn't falter as you cling to him, in fact, the feel of your hands against his skin sets Loki alight. You moan breathily, relishing in the way Loki fucks into you almost wildly. The heat of your walls is dizzying and Loki can already feel his release creeping down his spine. He slips a hand between your bodies and finds your clit, rubbing circles against the bundle of nerves. Your back arches as a whimper falls from your lips, the extra stimulation quickly bringing you closer.
"Loki-" You whine.
"Let go for me love. Show me how good I make you feel. Let your release coat my dick." Loki coaxes as his fingers dance along your clit as if he's already worked out all your right buttons to push.
"Oh my g-" You gasp out as your orgasm hits you like a wave crashing.
"Beautiful." Loki breathes. "I could watch you do that a thousand times and never tire of the face you make in ecstasy."
"Your turn now sweetie, show me what face you make in ecstasy Loki." You say gently, one hand threading into his hair. With your encouragement, it doesn't take much more for Loki's hips to stutter as his orgasm means the flooding of your walls in liquid heat.
You both lie still for some time, Loki only half holding himself up to avoid crushing you on the couch. You really can't believe the grumpy god that would straight up disappear if you so much as tapped his shoulder is currently lying in your arms. He can hardly believe it himself, but it's as soothing as he could have hoped. Not that he'd- ever admit that.
***
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Okay. I know the general consensus is not this, but if Catelyn had been told the truth about Jon from the get go, she would have treated him better. Relatively. Like, she wouldn't have gave him shit for being a bastard or been ice queen bitch stepmother to him, but uh. there would have been other issues. Just think about how having Catelyn aboard the hide-Jon-train would go for one second. For one second. Okay? We are talking about Catelyn fucking Stark nee Tully. And we are also talking about Catelyn fucking Stark nee Tully before the other four kids came along.
Just her baby Robb and Ned and Ned's nephew. (and if you don't think that Ned saving Jon from under Robert's nose on a promise to his sister wouldn't make I-released-the- king-slayer-to-bring-back-my-daughters-Catelyn fall so hard in love with him her head is still ringing fifteen years later you are LYING to yourselves) So think mother gothel. She would have micromanaged the shit out of Jon's life and upbringing. Ned is pretty lax so as security measures go in terms of Jon, but Cat? Winterfell would get turned into FBI headquarters. Vibe checks at the door and retina scanners and Jon and Robb have a praetorian guard on their cradles. Yeah she'd be cool to Jon in public as he grows but in private she's frantically brushing his hair every night looking for whites. Holding him up to the light to check for hints of purple in his eyes.
As they get older she namedrops bastard a lot but secretly actively fosters a relationship between Jon and the other kids because Catelyn-Sansa-will-be-queen-of-the-seven-kingdoms-Stark nee Tully knows about the pact of Ice and Fire and having one of the last Targs bouncing around is tickling the politician in her. That being said she institutes a book ban on Targ history and is always on Ned's ass about them playing dragons. When Arya is gets old enough she makes it a point to put her and Jon next to each other at all times. Jon getting a direwolf are goddammed holy blessing to her. When Robert's dump ass comes to visit she's having a conniption about Jon being recognized and nearly locks his ass in the crypts until he decides of his own free will to sit in the cheap seats before she blows a gasket.
She hates the Wall idea because who the Fuck is going to watch this kid as well as she's been doing for the past fifteen years? WHO? If she had found out about Aemon being up there she's have blown up castle black. Jon, who has had to deal with this shit since attaining spatial awareness tries to get Benjen to let him take his night's watch vows at Winterfell's weirwood. Man wants OUT. He can't deaal with tiger mom ass no more. When he comes to visit Bran she slips and says something cryptic and weirdly affectionate and it puts his ass in a tailspin all the way to the Wall.
Like, I know people think it'd go more downhill if she knew about Jon but why? Boring. Uninspired. Booooo. Get fun with it.
#asoiaf#a song of ice and fire#catelyn stark#jon snow#catelyn tully#jon asoiaf#asoif/got#asoiaf jon#asoiaf meta#asoiaf au#asoiaf analysis
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