#she said little girl evil? good for her <3 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ourautumn86 · 11 months

Text

CONFESSEX

ellie williams x catholic! fem!reader

a/n; if you think this might disrespect or trigger you don’t read it! i respect all types of religions and it’s not my intention! <3 love y’all!🩵 also thanks for the 5k!!!!!!!

summary; you wanted ellie. and no god was gonna stop you.

cw; +18 content! minors dni!, ellie calls god your false god, daydreaming, god kink, body workship, weed usage, smoking, ellie being absolutely whipped, kissing, first time for everything (reader), making out, use of pet names instead of y/n, fingering (r receiving), tit and nipple play, praising, praise kink, ellis calls you her good girl, oral (r receiving)…

“Come on, angel, I can’t hear you.” you were whimpering, drooling spilling from those pretty pink lips of yours as big warm and ringed hands gripped your hips, rocking your soaked and throbbing push against the denim of her crotch.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head when her lips latched to your neck, biting hickeys and dampening your skin in open mouth kisses.

“Give us this day our daily bre…bread, Ellie…” you cried out when her hips thrusted upwards, both hands moving from your hips to your ass for her nails to dig into, pushing you harshly against the bulge of her strap. She chuckled, hushing you in a whisper.

“Shh, we’re on mass baby.”

She was dazed. Those pretty tears of yours making a mess out of her. She knew it was bad. Fucking you on the oratory room? And during mass? Really bad. But oh well, Ellie was not a good girl. She was worse.

“Go on, or you’re gonna get left behind.” she encouraged you, smirking when her fingers got inside your panties and you choked on air, withering when her fingertips sank on your sticky folds.

“Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those… those who trespass against us!” you mumbled in between crying soft whines. “Please, Ellie…” he clicked her tongue, fingers entering your twitching hole and thrusting in you, making your nails dig on her shoulders.

“Go on, gorgeous. I know you can do it. You’re a good girl.” you almost came in the spot, when her fingers curved and hit that sensitive spot in your gummy walls. She felt them flutter around her fingers and stopped every movement, leaving you almost touching heaven just to let you fall back to earth again. You cried, face scrunching when your orgasm was stolen out of your reach for the third time in less than thirty minutes. “Ah, ah…” you heard her warn, chuckling when you tried and reach after it, rocking against her rough hand. “No cumming ‘till you finish your prayers, baby.”

New tears fell down your cheeks, hiccups of frustration only making Ellie’s boxers wetter. “I can’t, icanticanticant…”you whimpered, unable to control how much it hurt ‘down there’, as you always said. You had to cover your mouth when a scream left your lips at the harsh spank the auburn haired gave to your ass, the sting making your hips buckle against her.

“Yes you can. Come on, use your words gorgeous.” you hissed when she sucked a new bruise on that sweet spot on your neck.

“and lead us not into temp…temptation,” you stuttered when her fingers moved again against your clit. The burning sensation in your lower stomach was like the deepest pits of hell, torture, but it hurt so good that you found yourself begging for more. “but deliver us from evil. Amen.” you moaned that last part, fingers thrusting deep inside of you, the wet sounds of your juices filling the little wooden room along with your gasps and silent whimpers.

“See? I knew you could do it. Such a good girl for me.” you hid your face in the junction of her neck and shoulder when her fingers started to fuck you just right.

“Ellie… Want… Want…” you were a babbling mess, drooling and crying on her neck as she made sure to fuck that precious mind out of you. You couldn’t even form a simple fucking sentence.

“What do you want, hm? Tell me and I’ll give it to you, angel. Anything you want.” but she already knew what you meant.

“Wanna cum, pleasepleaseplease…” you muttered, cheeks burning up but still the feeling of your building orgasm being just the perfect inhibitor that you needed.

“You wanna cum sweetheart?” you nodded, pretty moans falling off your lips when her free hand —the one that wasn’t buried deep in your panties— tightly gripped your soft and silky locks so she could get a glimpse at your pretty and fucked out face. Her thumb pressed against your clit, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. “Fuck, I love when you do that shit. So fucking pretty for me…” you were begging at this point, needing her to give you the green light to gush all over her ringed fingers. You just needed her to give you a last push, to let you let go. “Come on baby, show me how much you love my fingers, how much you love me to fuck you in the church of your false god. Cum for me, angel.” and just like that, you were cumming, so fucking hard that if it weren’t for her mouth muffling your moans and screams, the full church would have known what was going on in between those tight walls.

Her mouth was like a drug. The more you tasted it, the more you found yourself begging for it. Her tongue was hungry, yet lazy against yours, spit dripping down your chin as her fingers kept thrusting in you, helping you ride out your high. Your brain was a pink mush at that point, too fucked out of it to even know what was going on, stars dancing behind your close pretty and teary eyes. You still couldn’t get used to just how good it all felt. The touching, the kissing… Ellie.

“Look at you…” you gagged when she pushed her dripping fingers inside your mouth. “Look at the fucking mess you’ve made.” you moaned around her fingers —being able to taste your release on them— pupils blown and used cunt fluttering around the emptiness her big fingers had left once they had left your gummy walls. “Such a dirty girl, letting me have my way with her in church…” you whimpered when another spank made your skin grew in goosebumps. “You should be embarrassed of yourself.” she said while pulling her fingers out of that tight and warm mouth of yours.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, god, I’m sorry…” her pitch black eyes shone in lust at your pleads of forgiveness. “Please forgive me, please…”

“You want forgiveness?” her wet fingers caressed your cheek and, later on, your hair, patting it slightly as you nodded. “Then kneel.” she said, chuckling a little bit when she could see the confusion on pretty face. “Kneel.” this time, she pushed your head down, her other hand guiding you to get off her lap to settle in between her legs. You gasped due to the sudden push against her strap, the damp denim and warmth pressing to your warm cheek. You heard her groan at the sight of your lips being so close to her cock, and pussy. “Now be a good girl and pray, hm?” she gave you a sweet smile as she unbuckled her belt and tugged on her jeans, the strap bouncing and resting against his happy trail. “Pray with your lips around my cock.”

“Ellie?” she came back to the present and got out of her head when she finally heard your voice calling out for her. “Can you please hand me my bible?” your sweet little voice filled your pink and strawberry scented room —which now was indulged in the sour weed smoke that scaped from her lips—.

If Ellie was proud about anything in her fucking life, that would be you. Her sweet best friend. You were so perfect, so innocent, so pure… An angel.

You were scribbling in one of your notebooks, finishing up some kind of homework in between little hums and babbles. Ellie was just lost in how beautiful and ethereal you looked, with your little pink lips pursed and silky hair framing your face. God, she wanted to ruin you…

“Sure thing, gorgeous.” she said, leaving your bed —in which she had been laying and smoking on for the last hour while staring at you— to reach out for the little bible that rested on your nightstand and slowly walk up to you. Her hand handed it up, but before you could take it she pulled her hand back, making you frown. “Nuh-uh… You know how to ask for things, don’t you sweetheart?” you let out a little giggle as she leaned in, waiting for you to close the distance in between your lips and her cheek, which you happily did.

You loved to kiss Ellie, there was something about it that always made your stomach flutter with butterflies.

“Wait… One more?” she whined when you pulled away, but you only shook your head, taking your bible from her hands with a little giggle. Her eyes were bloodshot and half-lided, breath heavy.

“I need to finish my homework, Ellie…” she groaned, ‘cause she knew that you were right and that you were just best friends. You didn’t even know she thought about you this way. But fuck, she wanted you so bad… Needed you so much… And you sounded so pretty trying to be the good girl you always were. Fuck, the things she’d do to you.

She smirked. “Okay.” she rose her hands up in innocence, but there was nothing innocent in the way she was staring at you while biting down on her bottom lip. You were back at doing your homework when she palmed herself over her jeans. If only you could recognize the lust on her eyes as she stared at you…

Ellie had always been careful. Never touched you in a way that screamed anything other than innocence. She couldn’t. Even though she wanted it, so badly. She would die if she’d ever make you feel uncomfortable. She loved you. You meant the world to her. But lately it was getting worse. The constant dirty wet dreams, the daydreaming… You were so fucking beautiful it hurt.

“How much longer, baby?” she inquired, and you hummed.

“Not long.” you answered, and she sighed. She decided to light up another blunt. She just wanted to pull you away from those books and make you pay attention to her.

“What?” she inquired you when she noticed you were staring at her. You took a deep breath.

“Forget it.” you shied out, your cheeks turning pink.

“Hey…” she called out for you, patting the free side on her bed. “What’s wrong, doll?” her hand found your cheek when you sat beside her.

“It’s nothing…” you promised but she wasn’t having it.

“Come on… No need to be shy with me, darling.” you only flushed harder. “What is it? You want to try it?” she asked, pointing at the blunt, and you nodded. She smiled. “That’s okay baby.” she promised, handing it to you, you sat up upright. “Take a small light drag, alright? Don’t want my pretty girl to choke.” you nodded, your body shivering at her cute nicknames. They always made your heart flutter. You followed her orders, but still managed to cough, the feeling of the smoke burning your throat. “Woah…” she patted your back, giving you the bottle of water you kept on your bed site table. “You okay, princess?” you nodded. “I have an idea. Give it to me.” you handed her the blunt, and she took the drag. “Come here.” and you found yourself stuttering when her free hand pushed you from the back of the neck towards her. She smirked at the blush on your face, neck and ears. Your heart was doing flips inside your chest. “Open up.” her hand now was on your face once again, her thumb on your bottom lip, pushing open your mouth. Your eyes fluttered close as she leaned closer, exhaling the smoke inside your mouth, and you inhaled, this time you throat not feeling that sore. “Good girl.” an unconscious whimper left your mouth at the praise, already feeling the effects of the weed. Ellie’s eyes shot open before a smirk took over her lips. “You liked that, baby? Like it when I call you good girl?” you blushed, but still nodded.

“Ellie…” you muttered her name, her eyes glued to her lips. Yours were too. “Can you kiss me?” you inquired, and fuck. Why did you even ask?

You moaned when her mouth met yours, her tongue pushing inside at the first change, humming and groaning. It was your first kiss, and you truly didn’t know how to kiss her back, but you knew it felt good. Too good. She noticed, pulling away. “Open your mouth and put your tongue out for me baby. That’s it.” she was back at kissing you, this time slower, so you could follow, showing you. “Fuck.” she groaned, pulling away. “I can’t. I can’t do this. You’re high. I’m high. You don’t know what you are doing.” she sighed, fighting with herself. She wanted to pin you down and keep kissing you. Pull more of those sweet sound out of your mouth.

“I know what I’m doing.” you promised, sitting on her lap. Ellie almost choked.

“Baby…” you hushed her, kissing her once again, and she groaned. “Fuck. You don’t know what you do to me.”

“Touch me, Ellie. Please…”

“Doll, please don’t.” she begged you, trying so hard to not rip your clothes and fuck you just like she had been dreaming for years on end.

“I want you, Ellie. Please…” fuck, this wasn’t supposed to go this way. Where had her shy little girl gone?

“Fuuuuuck.” she grunted when she felt your lips on her neck.

“Please, please, please…” tears were swelling in your eyes. You had been wanting to ask for it for months. But you were always too shy to ask. Listening to your best friends all talking about their first kisses, first times… You wanted that. But after weeks of thought, you had noticed that all they felt with their boyfriends; the butterflies, the nervousness, the need… You experienced it with Ellie. You liked Ellie. You liked your best friend. Your religion said it was a sin: Loving someone that was your same sex. But you couldn’t fight it anymore. ‘Cause if it was so wrong… Why would this feel so right? So good? You needed her. Humping your little cunt against your pillow was not enough. There was never enough of Ellie.

“Okay, baby. You’re okay. I’m gonna take care of you, alright?” she promised and you nodded, opening your mouth for her when she kissed you again. She turned you around and pushed you against the bedsheets of your bed, taking place in between your thighs. Your back arched when her lips found your neck, sucking bruises that you’d proudly wear tomorrow. Her hands pushed in between your bodies to hike up your skirt.

“Ellie…” you whimpered when one of her hands cupped your cunt, a wet patch adorning your panties.

“Fuck doll, you’re so wet…” you moaned when she started to circle your clit from over your panties. “That feels good?”

You nodded, your hips bucking against her touch.

“Of course it does…” she cooed, pulling from your pj’s shirt to strip you out of it, your beautiful tits spilling out and free for her hungry eyes to see. “So fucking beautiful…” her hand pushed inside your panties as her lips latched to your nipples.

“Ellie!” you cried out. Shit. This felt too good.

She smirked. “Atta girl…” she pushed one of her fingers inside your tight pussy. “Look at you… Taking my fingers so good…” your eyes rolled to the back of your head as she started to thrust it in and out.

You were moaning non-stop. Making her so fucking horny it hurt. You looked so beautiful beneath her, eyes glassy and lips swollen… She wanted to ruin you.

“That’s it. Open up for me, princess.” another finger went in, and you screamed when she hit your g spot.

“Oh god…” tears were swelling your eyes. You’d never felt this kind of pleasure. This love. Your stomach was filled with butterflies with every kiss she left on your skin. And you heart felt so warm… You loved her. You loved Ellie.

“What god baby?” she smirked. “Can god fuck you like I do? Make you feel like I do?” she inquired and you shook your head. “That’s right, he can’t. But I do. Only me.”

“Don’t stop, please Ellie, don’t stop…” you begged and she cooed.

“Look at you. Begging me. Praying at me to make you cum, aren’t you?” you nodded. “That’s right… I’m your god baby.” you moaned. “And I’d go on my knees for mine.”

“Fuck!” you cursed—something you never did— when you suddenly felt her tongue, lapping at your arousal and sucking at your clit. She grunted at your taste, eating you out like a starved woman.

“Pussy so sweet… You taste so fucking good…” she groaned, eyes heavy, pussy drunk just by one little taste.

She continued to eat you, fucking her fingers in and out of you, making your thighs shake. You were gonna cum. You couldn’t take it anymore.

“Ellie. I’m gonna…!” you tried and warn her, your back arching as fat tears slid down your cheeks.

“You’re gonna cum, baby? Gonna make a mess out of my face?” you nodded, whimpering. “Go ahead baby, cum for me. Wanna see you fall apart.”

You came with a deep moan, breathless, your walls fluttering around her fingers and making it hard for her to help you ride it as you clenched. You’d never felt anything like it. This was heaven.

Ellie came up to kiss you, her lips and chin wet in your cum. You could taste yourself on her tongue.

“You’re mine.”

When have you not been?

a/n; ellie is my god tbh

1K notes · View notes

dilemmaontwolegs · 1 year

Note

hey queen, for “see no evil hear no evil” pt3, would you consider doing pregnancy x speech where our girl discovers from someone that she can learn how to talk, and she secretly practices it and one day she finds out she is pregnant and she tells aemond that she’s pregnant by talking to him (she also tells him “i love you” 👀) bc that would be so cool!!!

Sorry this took a few days but my writing time had seriously been cut back and I miss it 😭

See No Evil, Hear No Evil {3}

Aemond Targaryen x deaf!fem!reader Author's Note: I may have got a little side tracked but I think I have covered this all as requested with a few extras thrown in. Warnings: 18+ only, NSFW, period sex, blood, allusion to infertility struggles, canon-death, vomit. WC: 4210

Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four

Half of your body was too hot and the other half was too cold when you woke at dawn. The golden hues of the sun breaking the horizon lightened the room as you looked around and found the fire had died overnight. Aemond’s arm tightened around your waist and he nuzzled your shoulder as he curled his long body around yours, providing more heat than you needed.

Easing out of his embrace for the fifth week in a row, you went into the adjacent room and pulled the string that connected to the maids’ quarters. You had just finished washing your face to chase away the lingering feeling of exhaustion from the early rising when two handmaids appeared and grabbed the dress you had selected for the day.

Appropriately attired, you made your way through the quiet castle to Princess Helaena’s chambers and found the whimsical woman already opening the door for you with a warm smile. “Ready for today’s lesson?”

Nervousness crept in once again as you nodded and stepped into her room while the children still slept, apparently dawn was the only time it was quiet, or so she said. You thought you had long put the feeling of self-consciousness behind you but these lessons with Helaena had regressed you to the youthful mindset of bygone times and it was a constant battle to continue to show up, until you reminded yourself why you were doing this.

Helaena waved her hand to the cushioned chair opposite her and you flattened your skirts as you took a seat, grabbing your book and a graphite pencil that Aemond made sure you had plenty of. After writing your message you turned the book around and Helaena read the writing.

I am to see the maesters this morning so I must leave before long.

“You are not ill,” she stated or asked, though you weren’t quite sure which.

Your hand flew across the page as your chest tightened at the mere thought of what you were writing. It had been the cause for your increased anxiety and only grew as the days passed by and your body experienced no changes.

Six cycles and I am yet with child.

Helaena gently pushed the book back onto your lap and took your hands in her smaller, delicate ones. “You are not ill, and you will be with child soon. You will be holding a babe by Maelor’s third Name Day. I have dreamed it.”

You struggled to concentrate on the lesson as Helaena’s words echoed in your mind and hope fluttered in your chest. You loved Aemond more than anything, you loved him so much that you felt you could not contain it - you wished to take all that love and create life from it. You wanted to see Aemond as a father, knowing there is no one more loyal to his family and that the child would be loved deeply.

Yet each cycle you would wake with cramps in your abdomen and an ache in your heart. Aemond could see the tears in your eyes on those mornings and, try as he might to comfort and assure you that good things take time, you could see the same sadness in his eye.

You had hoped to have a moment with Alicent but with King Viserys’ ailing health she was oftentimes busy ensuring the kingdom ran smoothly and you did not want to be a burden. The queen had enough pressure on her shoulders as it was, though she could have had some more help in the kingdoms’ matters if her eldest son would do his duty.

You looked at the princess, ethereal in her beauty and kind in her disposition, she hardly saw her husband and you wished she had known a dutiful husband. She deserved to be doted upon as Aemond did you.

“Your mind has taken you places, dear sister,” Helaena said with a smile. “It is almost time to break our fast, would you accompany me to the dining room?”

You nodded and tucked your book back in your pocket with the notes from the lesson before following her to where the twins were being ushered by their maids. Both Jaehaera and Jaehaerys waved excitedly and broke away from the maid trying to detangle their hair to wrap their arms around your legs.

You knelt to the floor and hugged them back until they pulled back suddenly.

“Uncle Aemond,” Jaehaera said with a toothy grin and a moment later the door opened to reveal your husband.

Though it had not been long since you had seen him, your arms were reaching for him and wrapped around his waist as he placed a kiss on your forehead. “I thought I would find you here, my love. Are you hungry?”

You nodded and took Jaehaera’s hand as she reached for you and Aemond, swinging herself between you two as you imagined you would be doing with a child of your own one day. You looked across to Aemond as she swung again and his smile grew although the light never quite reached his eye.

Jaehaera tugged at her Uncle’s arm until he dropped to one knee to address her and his eyes darted to your, then your stomach, then back to your face. Her back was to you so you did not see what it was she said but whatever it was gave him pause. You flipped your hands over so your palms faced up, asking him ‘What?’ but he just shook his head with a smile and took Jaehaera’s hand once more.

You woke the following morning with waves of pain and rushed from the bed to the bathing chamber where the strips of clean linen were stored. You had grown to hate the natural process of your body with each passing month and when word came that Rhaenyra was pregnant yet again, you questioned yourself.

You had seen it time and time again throughout the Red Keep and in the city beyond. You couldn’t understand why some found themself with a child after bedding a stranger for one night but you could not with over one hundred nights bedding Aemond. You were not one to delude yourself with what was fair and not fair in the life you had been dealt, but seeing the blood stain on your nightdress certainly challenged that.

You dropped the nightdress into the basin and wrapped a robe around yourself as the weight of defeat pressed on your shoulders and tears leaked down your cheeks. Light poured into the room as the door was open and Aemond filled the space, the soiled sheets bundled in one hand.

You looked away, feeling guilty that a prince was reduced to maids activities, when he knelt before you so you had no choice but to face him as he spoke, “I have trained with the guards for much of my life, dear wife, a little blood is of no concern to me.”

Fresh tears rolled down your face as his tenderness served to catapult you far from your sadness but his worry only increased.

“Why are you crying, my love?”

You shook your head, hoping to shake the abundance of thoughts filling you. There was no explanation that would make a man understand how turbulent emotions were in those first days of your womanly cycle, so you settled on kissing him instead.

He dropped the sheet to the floor so he could cradle your face in his hands and deepen the kiss. You pulled away breathless as his hands untied the sash of the robe and pushed the material off your shoulders. You gasped and tried to cover yourself but there was no hiding the streak of red between your thighs, your body burning with embarrassment.

“Don’t hide from me,” Aemond said as he bent his knees to look at your bowed face. “There is not one part of you that is not beautiful to me, nor is there anything that would change my love for you.”

You bit back the fear that filled you as you asked him something that had been dwelling in the depth of your mind for months and your hands shook as you signed, What if I cannot give you a child?

His lips pressed together sternly and your stomach plummeted within your body before he gave your shoulders a small shake and said, “There is nothing that would change my love for you.”

The air in your lungs released along with the immense pressure that you had not realised had been building in you and you sagged into Aemond’s embrace with relief. His strong arms encased you as your tears dampened his skin and he pulled back.

“I did not know this weighed so heavily upon you, my love.” He closed his eye and pressed his forehead to yours for a moment. “I should have been more attentive as your husband.”

The thought of your loving husband being even more attentive than he already was didn’t seem possible and your lips parted with a laugh as you shook your head at the impossibility of it all. He froze and wonder fell across his features at what he heard before he crushed his lips against yours and hooked your leg around his thigh.

“Please,” he said and you knew what he was asking as you felt his erection against your thigh. Your heart skipped a beat at the thought of the act, one that was usually saved for those wishing to not fall pregnant. If you said no, Aemond would respect your choice but you found yourself not wanting to say no - though it was possibly the lady-like thing to do. You always wanted your husband and the blood was no concern to him, so why deny both of you the pleasure?

You nodded and wrapped your arms around his neck as he guided you backwards to the bench that held the basin. The wood was cold beneath you as you sat at the edge and Aemond spread your legs with his hips as he stepped between them and pressed his manhood to your entrance.

Your fingers danced over his back as he filled you and from the smile on his handsome face you knew he was enjoying the sounds you were making as the cramps eased and a different tightness grew. You had not known the remedy his body could give but you were grateful as he chased away the pain and replaced it with pleasure.

His breath was hot on your neck as he kissed over your pulse and you buried your hands in his hair, holding him close as you felt your heart beating hard in your chest and the same pulse throbbed at your core.

The long thrusts were teasingly slow and you needed more, dropping your hands to his firm buttocks and pulling him closer. His response was instant as he planted his hands on the wall behind your head rutted hard and quick, leaving you gasping as he hit the deepest parts of your core until you came undone around him.

Aemond bit his lip at the feel of your release tightening your walls and he dropped his head to your shoulder, wrapping you in his arms as he filled you with his seed through the shudders. Pulling away, he kissed you sweetly before reaching for a washcloth and he laughed as you gasped at the mess, your jaw dropping wide.

“It is blood, not poison,” Aemond teased as he dunked the cloth in the basin and wrung it out before cleaning your thighs. Once you were clean, he wrapped the robe around you to chase off the morning chill before cleaning himself shamelessly, easing the sense of taboo that had crept back in. “I’ll call for breakfast in our room this morning, unless you feel well enough for the dining room.”

Though the cramping ache had gone for the moment, there was still a dull tenderness with each move you made and you did not wish to trek down the halls and stairs to the dining room so you shook your head. You left the bathing room with a handful of linen strips as Aemond grabbed his own robe and found a fresh sheet cast across the bed, though it was not tucked in finely as the maids did.

Another wave of emotion swamped you and your chest jumped with a hiccup that drew Aemond’s attention. He was in front of you in a heartbeat, seeing fresh tears in your eyes and he ran his hands down your arms. “Did I hurt you?”

You shook your head and placed one hand over his heart as the other signed, I love you.

“I love you too,” he said with a smile as he wiped your damp cheeks. “I never realised how many different tears there were. I prefer your happy tears over all else.”

Another laugh bubbled from your chest and you pulled away, leaving him smiling to himself as you went to the dressing room. There was nothing pretty about the undergarments that were reserved for your cycle, their only purpose was to hold the linen strips in place and you quickly hid them under a fresh bed dress, deciding you were not going to venture out into the public eye at all.

Aemond was already laying in the bed when you returned, the blanket barely covering his modesty as he watched you cross the room to him. The hunger in his eye had you stumble and you knew that look intimately, it held the promise that he would give you no reason to want to leave the bed, perhaps ever again.

Smiles came easier and there was no longer an ache in your chest when you watched Aemond play with his nephews and niece. In the last six weeks he had reassured you a plenty that child or not, he would love you until the end of time.

Sex also came a plenty as the stress of bearing a child was eased from your mind and you took your time enjoying and learning Aemond’s body intimately. There were certainly perks to having sex purely for the fun of it, especially when you wrapped your lips around his cock and brough him to release with your mouth. That was a favourite of yours, being able to look up the length of his body and see how he reacted to your touch, to your tongue.

“Look at me like that and we will not make it to the Vaemond’s challenge,” Aemond said as he sent Maelor toddling back to his mother so he could have a moment with you in the tower window.

You grinned and lifted your shoulders, silently asking if it would be such a bad thing. His hand wrapped around yours and lifted it to his lips to place a delicate kiss to your palm.

“And miss the grand family reunion,” he said with a slow growing smile as he saw his sister’s carriage arrive unmet in the courtyard far below. “Come, my love, we should get ready.”

Your stomach turned as you looped your arm in your husband’s and let him lead the way down the staircase, towards the one who had scarred his face. You knew the story of that night, and how young the boys were when the incident happened, but Aemond’s resentment still burned like the red hot embers that remained long after the flames stopped flickering.

The nervous nausea grew the closer to the throne room that you stepped and when you crossed the threshold you were sure you were going to vomit. Aegon and Helaena were already waiting with Alicent, a clear division in the room as they stood to the left and waited for you to join them.

Alicent greeted you with a kiss to your cheek and she cupped Aemond’s scarred cheek gently as if to remind herself of the pain the other half of King Viserys’ family had wrought on hers. All words that could have been exchanged between mother and son died as Rhaenyra and her family entered the great room.

Your eyes immediately fell to the swell of her belly that her hand rested upon but you did not feel the usual pang of hurt and it was a relief.

The relief was short lived as three heads of dark hair trailed in her wake and you felt Aemond tense beside you as his eye fell on them too. You laced your fingers with his and felt him squeeze your hand gently in thanks but he dared not look away from the ones he saw as a threat to his family.

The group barely gave you a passing glance but their stares lingered on Aemond, or more so the scar and leather patch that hid the worst of his injury.

Your free hand inched up your throat and flicked out while Aemond coughed a laugh at the vulgar gesture you aimed at the young man who had drawn blood from your husband. The laugh was echoed by Aegon, as he was usually on the receiving end of the gesture, and Alicent shook her head but said nothing as the corners of her eyes wrinkled like she was suppressing a smile too.

Your eyes trailed over the two halves dividing the room but as you were not in the centre there was not a lot you could read of what they were saying. You could only judge how the challenge was going by the reactions of the faces you were seeing. It was almost a physical ripple of surprise that spread along the room and you watch row after row turn to face the doors.

The King had risen from his healing slumbers to decide the fate of Driftmark.

Risen may have been the wrong term, for the King was hardly upright as he struggled to cross the floor with his cane to aid him. Pity filled you for the ailing man who had been kind and welcoming to you and you wished someone would ease his struggle to the throne.

Your respect for Prince Daemon grew as he stepped up when Viserys’ crown tumbled from his head and the second son placed it back upon his brother’s head. It said a lot about a man who could be so close to the throne and never have it to still hold love for his older brother. You had no doubt that if tradition had not been broken to have Rhaenyra as Viserys’ heir and not his first born son, Aegon, that Aemond would have publically supported his brother too.

With Otto sitting on the throne as Hand you could read his lips, but with Viserys there was no hope, not with half of his face hidden by the golden mask he wore. You didn’t like the confusion that came with being on the outside of the conversation and it left you more than a little stunned when Daemon suddenly drew his sword and beheaded Vaemond with one foul swoop.

You could scarcely believe your eyes as his body collapsed one way but his head the other and Aemond grabbed your waist, spinning you away from the sight that stayed burned in your mind. It took you a moment to process what you had seen, the odd organ that had been bared from the strike, and you realised it was Vaemond’s tongue that had remained with his body.

Your stomach lurched and there was no stopping the bile that rose in your throat as you tore away from Aemond and made it passed the line of witnesses before collapsing to your knees and vomiting across the stone floor. Cool hands brushed across your forehead and you knew who they belonged to in an instant. He did not hesitate to use the corner of his clean cloak to wipe away the bile that clung to your lips and draw you away from the mess you had made.

There was no condemnation on his concerned face when he turned you to look him in the eye and you were glad to find that the wave of nausea had passed with what you had emptied from your stomach. With a trembling hand, you closed it to a fist and rubbed your chest but he caught your wrist before you even completed one circle, shaking his head as he pulled it away.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, my love,” he said, placing your hand on his chest instead. “You are too pure to have witnessed such violence.”

You frowned at the statement, remembering the many violent deaths you had seen during tourneys over the years and not once had you been squeamish at the sight of a man dying on the sand and straw ground in the summer heat. However jaded it may seem, you had come to expect violence when royals and knights collide.

You looked at Helaena beyond Aemond’s profile and she was clutching her hands together, looking far too joyful for the startled response she had had only moments earlier. Her smile only grew as she stared back at you and her hands arced over her flat stomach before pointing at you.

Your lips parted with a gasp and you looked down, expecting to see a bump in your dress but it looked as it usually did. You counted back in your head and your hands began to shake harder as you realised while you had not been paying such attention to your cycle, you were about two weeks late for yours.

“Aemond,” you said as you stumbled back in surprise, but not as much as he did.

“What did you say?” he asked in shock, and you feared you had not enunciated it as well as when you had practised with his sister. “Say it again, please.”

“Aemond,” you said carefully, breaking it down into the syllables as instructed. It was possibly too quiet for him as he stepped closer so you said a little more forcefully, “I’m pregnant.”

His eye widened in surprise and behind him you saw Alicent, as well as most of the guests, spin away from the throne to look at you. Many smiled at the news while others frowned but you paid them no mind as you saw a tear slip over Aemond’s thick lashes and cascade down his unmarred cheek.

“You’re pregnant?” he asked as if he couldn’t quite believe it had finally happened. “A child, our child?”

You nodded and he closed the distance, crushing his lips to yours despite the bitter taste that still filled your mouth. He did not care. The only thing he cared about was you and his child that was growing in your belly. His arms wrapped around you and you melted into his embrace as if the world around you and the body on the floor behind him did not exist, it was only you and Aemond sharing this moment.

You pulled back so you could see his face when you spoke, “I love you, Aemond.”

His chest shuddered and he swallowed deeply as he savoured hearing those words on your tongue. “Say it again,” he begged.

“Aemond,” you said with a teasing smile and he kissed you before nipping your lip lightly.

“Not that.”

Unable to tease him anymore, you gave into the adoring look on his face. “I love you.”

“I love you,” he said as you wiped his tears away and he placed his hand on your stomach. “And our child too.”

Aemond turned away at something someone must have said but when he returned his smile was tenser than before. “The King wishes to have a family banquet tonight, to celebrate the news.”

You stepped around Aemond so that you could see the King watching his youngest son and you touched your chin with your fingers to show your gratitude before bowing your head. Helaena had not stopped staring at you with a knowing grin and you returned it as Aemond curled his arm around your waist and you nuzzled into his side to look up at him.

“I was quite jealous, truth be told, when you snuck from our bed to visit my sister each morning,” Aemond said with a smirk. “But this is how you and my sister spent all those hours locked away together?”

You slapped his chest lightly at what he was inferring and rolled your eyes before parting your lips to speak, “It was for you.”

Aemond stood a little straighter, his shoulders back and his chest puffed. “I have never been prouder to call you my wife, mother of my child. You continue to surprise me, my love.”

Your lessons had not been so extensive and without seeing how some words were broken down to each sound they were harder to speak. Instead, your fingers danced and he watched them speak for you, I have to keep you on your toes.

With many pairs of eyes still intently watching you and your husband, he gave you a wink before returning his own signs that caused a heat to wash over your skin.

Or you could keep me on my back.

Click here for part four.

Taglist: @sheetalkalkhandey , @hydrationqueensworld

#aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x y/n #aemond x you #aemond x reader #aemond imagine #aemond fanfiction #house of the dragon fanfic #hotd fanfic #deaf!reader

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sexy-sapphic-sorcerer · 18 days

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1: Magic is a Metaphor < 2: Morgana is a Lesbian > 3: Merlin is Gay > 4: Arthur is Bi

Building off of the whole metaphor idea, Morgana's character arc is basically that she starts to question her identity because she's having all of these dreams and thoughts that she doesn't understand. Then Gaius, who is straight up a conversion therapist, literally gaslights her and is like, 'no no, you're just going crazy, you're overreacting, here, why don't you take all of these drugs to suppress those thoughts?'

Meanwhile, Uther is saying all of this stuff about how sorcerers are all evil and should be killed, and Morgana will try to argue with him and he will just be like, 'well, why do you care so much?' And she's all, 'oh, no reason. I'm just an ally. I'm just really passionate about social justice.' Like, girl, we've all been there.

And then once Morgana does come to terms with her identity and she realises how fucked up the way that she was treated is, she goes batshit and starts a revolution and assassinates her dad. And good for her! I honestly think that all repressed lesbians deserve a little bit of murder, it's only fair, especially if they look so hot doing it.

Also, Morgana doesn't have any male love interests. I mean, she will sometimes flirt with men to manipulate them into doing what she wants, but it's very clear that that is what she is doing, she never actually cares about them or follows through.

Besides, Katie McGrath has never played a heterosexual in her life. She's basically straight up said that she played Morgana as a lesbian. You know where she said that? Here:

Hear me out.

Are they technically half-sisters? Yes. But omg the sexual tension between these two is undeniable. You really do think that they're just going to kiss at any given moment. This has been straight up confirmed. This is a quote from the same conversation as earlier between the main producer and Katie McGrath, where they fully admit that there are definitely lesbian undertones there, and not only did both actresses play it that way, but it was written that way. So I rest my case.

Gwen knew about Morgana's prophetic visions from the start and she was never scared of it or tried to deny that it was magic. Instead, she was always by Morgana's bedside (or in her bed) so she could hold her face and stroke her hair and tell her she would be okay. Gayasses.

Although, as Iori Miyazawa can attest, yuri is often best found in the absence of it. Because once Morgana accepts her identity and her magic becomes an unavoidable part of of her life rather than thoughts she could repress, she begins to push Gwen away, often in the form of telling her not to undress her anymore.

Then this tension between them is emphasised when Morgana starts having nightmares of Gwen marrying Arthur and is really upset by it for some reason. I know that she justifies it by saying that she doesn't want Gwen to take her place as queen, but if you think about that for more than 5 seconds, it makes absolutely no sense. Arthur is still going to be king regardless of who he marries, so unless Morgana is planning to follow the legend a bit too closely and marry her brother, then Gwen is absolutely not taking her place.

And yet Morgana spends the entire rest of the show obsessing over Gwen, including: planting false evidence to break up Gwen and Arthur, using necroLancey as a puppet to seduce her, kidnapping Gwen only to tenderly caress her face and force her to have dinner with her, and then of course enchanting Gwen to kill Arthur so that Morgana can be queen, and Gwen will seemingly also still be queen. And they will be two queens, together, platonically. Hmmm

#now with an added morgwen slide since I didn't have it when I first made this (like 2 years ago now) because I had not yet been enlightened #morgana pendragon #morgwen #morgcest #merlin meta #bbc merlin #merlin #the magic of metaphor

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sp4cepunisher · 1 year

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dress [ e. williams ]

summary ; ellie loves to see you in your dress, almost as much as she loves seeing you out of it.

warnings ; 18+ themes, minors dni ! pure smut, top!ellie x bottom!reader. very strong language, explicit depictions of sexual intercourse [ reader receiving; fingering ] + semi-public sex basically ellie can’t stop looking at you and fantasising about you because you’re just so fucking hot and you can’t help but do the same because she looks so good in her suit sooo she fucks you in the bathroom at a party!!!

author’s note ; buckle yourselves in, folks! because… *evil little smirk* this is one hell of a raunchy piece of gay, smutty smut. it’s like, a great mix of romantic and dirty and just brimful of all the good stuff! thank you so much to the anon who requested this because it’s actually my first piece of full smut since my return! so! i hope i haven’t lost my sparkle! + if i’ve forgotten to feature any warnings above which you think should be included, (as always) pleeeease let me know! also, like... half way? three quarters of the way? through writing this i became very aware of the fact that it was aaactually supposed to be more of a make love kind of narrative, buuut i got way too wrapped up in the idea of the reader’s dress, which then unfolded into pure smut whiiich then just... became a super raunchy desperate bathroom situation and.... *scratches my head* uuuh.... yeah! i hope that’s cool with you because there isn’t much i can do about it, now! *blows you all the biggest, fattest kiss ever* okay, i thiiink that’s it from me! enjoy this you sick, twisted little fucks!!! (jk i love u we’re sick + twisted together<3)

. . .

ellie wasn’t particularly fond of parties.

sure, she enjoyed a drink. to a certain extent, she liked to mingle. and yeah, she enjoyed music (that being said, it had to be good music). but ellie’s favourite part about any party was when she was able to attend with you, like tonight; adorned in a dress you had found in the back and beyond of your wardrobe; your features complimented by light makeup with a demeanour a little looser than usual, thanks to the one, two, three, four drinks which you had been sipping and cradling in your hand throughout the evening. you were shining; a golden statue amongst the other grey bodies; glowing like a household fire, and ellie was enamoured by the way in which she could practically see the happiness radiating from your every pore. making an appearance at dina’s birthday party hadn’t exactly been at the top of ellie’s to-do list, but the night actually hadn’t turned out to be as bad as she had anticipated. as far she was concerned, ellie would have been content in staying at the party all night if that meant being able to continue catching lucky glimpses of your upper thigh whenever you would sit down, or being able to admire the way your nipples would harden beneath the thin fabric of your dress whenever the cool summer breeze would make its way through the open door and kiss over your bare shoulders.

you were a little tipsy. probably more than your sober self would have cared to admit in any other circumstance, but right now you didn’t care. your veins were flooded with serotonin, head as light as air and body warm from the alcohol, which had been sliding down your throat like honeyed velvet far too easily that evening. you had actually felt happy; watching the birthday girl spinning around in admirers’ arms, but always finding her way back to jesse; content in remaining seated at one of the tables, you had been enjoying chatting to those who came and left the few seats beside you, catching up and sharing a few polite laughs. but what had made you the happiest was the feeling of a certain girl’s eyes fixed to the side of your head for what had seemed like hours, now. it had been hours. you knew that ellie preferred to remain at the sidelines at things like this— close enough to keep you in her eyeline, but far enough away to ensure that she didn’t have to mix with too many people, aside from those who would linger at the bar for a few minutes— but you could tell that the majority of her attention had been dedicated to you, and only you.

“hey, party girl!” a voice cut through your train of thought, and you knew that the person standing beside you was dina before you had even turned your head. there she was; a little sweaty from dancing but still looking as pretty as ever, chest rising and falling as she tried to catch her breath, a smile plastered to her face as you looked up at her. “y’wanna dance?”

“oh,” you shook your head insistently, eyebrows furrowing a little. “no, thanks. i’d end up on my ass if i danced, right now.”

“c’mo—n,” she reached for your hand, curling and uncurling her fingers as she silently willed you to place your hand in hers. “it’s my birthday. are you really gonna refuse me a dance?”

you sighed. it wasn’t just an excuse, although you didn’t love dancing in a room full of people. you really were too tipsy to remain content in your self-awareness. “dina. there are still like, twenty people out there who wanna dance with you.” you gestured towards the abundance of people that remained out on the floor.

“but there’s only one person who i wanna dance with, right now. buuut, she’s sitting right here, refusing me my wish, on my birthday!”

you rubbed your fingers across your forehead, eyes searching dina’s for even the tiniest glimpse of her giving up, but you weren’t sure you were going to get it. you couldn’t help but allow your gaze to drift over to the bar, eyes immediately finding ellie and lips curling up into a smile when you noticed the way in which her green eyes sparkled.

“cheers to another trip around the sun, dina! another year older and wiser, and yet, (y/n) still won’t dance with you!” dina’s gaze soon followed yours when she received no reply, her face immediately softening when she realised what— or rather, who— had grabbed your attention before she could continue guilt tripping you into making a fool out of yourself. “oooh, i see,” a smile was evident in her voice. “you’d rather sit here and stare at ellie all night, huh?”

you turned back to look at her, rolling your eyes. “actually, she’s been staring at me all night.”

dina laughed. you knew how much she loved you and ellie together. “okay, well. i guess i can’t exactly stand in the way of love-”

“oh my god, stop.”

“-but you owe me a dance next time, okay?”

not being entirely sure when “next time” would be, but realising that it was probably in your best interests to hold your tongue, since you were pretty sure you had — god knows how, because she was stubborn when she wanted to be — just managed to get out of dancing with dina, you simply nodded your head and smiled politely. “okay, dee.” you rested your chin on your fists as you propped your elbows up on the table. while you watched as she turned back around to regain her rightful position on the dancefloor, you hadn’t been aware of the sound of wooden chair legs raking across the oak flooring as the seat beside was pulled out.

“hey, you.”

the voice didn’t make you jump exactly, but it did take you by surprise to assume that someone else may actually want to be in your company. that was, of course, until your turned your head to put a name to the body in the chair and came to realise that it was ellie; dressed in the white button-down shirt that she had borrowed from jesse, (which was technically too big for her but which she made do with by tucking it into her trousers) and complimented by the contrasting black tie which you had secured around her neck a few hours earlier, after she had complained that she had “no fucking idea how to tie a stupid tie”. you knew that dina’s choice of dress code hadn’t thrilled ellie— she was the most comfortable in one of her old sweatshirts and a pair of her battered black jeans— but my god, did she look good in her make-shift suit. with half of her hair tied up into a messy bun at the back of her head and the other half barely brushing her shoulders, you couldn’t quite believe that she was all yours.

“hey,” you breathed, smile stretching over your features as soon as you were aware of a steady hand coming to rest on the small of your back, and you felt your girlfriend’s lips press a gentle kiss to your exposed shoulder.

“having a good night?” she whispered into your skin, the loose ends of her hair tickling your pores which caused goosebumps to rise up over the back of your neck.

“yeah, actually. it’s been fun. s’nice seeing dina so happy,” you nodded. “are you?”

ellie shrugged her shoulders gently, eyes making their way around the room momentarily but finding their way back to you with no problem. “yeah, i mean... i thought it was gonna be worse.”

you let your eyes drift over ellie’s features; having free rein over the sandy shore of her freckles and the glint in her tidal eyes, her auburn wisps framing them as if an art exhibition; she belonged in a museum. you were well aware of how much she regarded these kinds of events with disfavour, and knew how much she would have preferred spending the evening inside, alone, with you. “always the optimist, babe,” you teased her, lifting a hand from beneath your chin and using it to give her cotton-clad knee a squeeze; subtle in nature but obvious to your girlfriend in both reassurance and affection. “but, i am glad we came. i mean, look at her,” you reverted your attention back to dina, gaze softening as you watched her being swayed in jesse’s arms, still a magnet beneath every onlookers’ cobalt eyes. “she’s glowing.”

but ellie had no real desire to look at dina. not when she could look at you. her eyes were glued to you; wandering over the slope of your back, the dent of your spine nestled between your shoulder blades as if sculpted by god himself, and which she honestly believed she could litter with kisses until the sun came up. how the definition of your breastbone shone in the light, taunting her; almost beseeching her to drag her callused fingertips over the skin to bring about the inevitable goosebumps which would come decorate you like sequins. the way your delicate fingers wrapped themselves around your glass, lifting it from the table and bringing it to your lips, which appeared like two pristine rose petals; how your throat twitched as the alcohol disappeared and you swallowed it down so easily. “you’re even brighter,” she whispered, her words making themselves known to you before she had even really processed them; brisk in the way they launched themselves from her lips but weightless in the way they drifted down before your face. it was too late to stop them now. actually, she didn’t really want to stop them. “you look beautiful, tonight. have i told you that?”

you turned your head back to look at the girl beside you, your action soothed by the feeling of her hand travelling up the expanse of your back, tracing your spine with her thumb and allowing her fingers to follow closely behind. “only like, twenty times,” your comment evoked a certain glint in ellie’s eyes. “but, so do you.” you batted the compliment back, almost without missing a beat.

she scoffed. “please, i feel ridiculous.”

you shook your head insistently, dutch courage guiding your hand like a puppeteer and sliding it further up ellie’s thigh. you loved the feeling of the fabric against your fingertips, the roughness of the fibres contrasted with the sleekness of her skin hidden beneath them; the rise and fall of her muscle which felt like heaven to you, in that moment. “you shouldn’t,” your voice was lower now, just loud enough to still be heard by only ellie above the music. “you look so good.”

the solidity evident your words peaked ellie’s interest. sure, you had told her how well you thought she pulled the look off before you had arrived at the party together, but the most self-conscious parts of ellie had all rallied round to persuade the girl that you were simply just being nice. however, although she knew that you were a little more tipsy than usual, the look in your eyes seemed to ignite something in her; the need to argue her opinion until she was blue in the face evaporated when she noticed the earnest in your face and felt the way in which your thumb was rubbing gentle circles against her inner thigh. “well,” she leaned forward, tucking your hair behind your ear with her nimble fingers, but not before the side of her knuckle grazed against your neck. “that makes two of us, then.”

“oh, stop.”

“been looking at you all night.”

“mm, i know. felt your eyes on me.”

“can you blame me?”

“well, i could look at you in this suit forever,” you whispered, feeling yourself becoming bolder with every breath. “it’s like, made for you.”

“except it’s fuckin’ huge.” ellie grinned. “but, your dress? so perfect. you look so gorgeous,” her fingers slid over your collarbone and to the right, where they caressed the strap of your dress, skimming your skin in their wake. “don’t know which i’d rather see; you in the dress, or…” her eyes flicked back up to find yours, and you noticed that they were considerably darker than before. “you out of it.”

silk words, woven right before your eyes pulled on your brows and caused them to rise, top teeth tugging your bottom between them as an automatic response to the way her sultry words made you feel. the butterflies in your stomach were awoken, swarming in a pack and reaching your throat where you were at a loss for words for a good few seconds. the confidence in your previous comments had been snuffed out just by ellie’s eyes finding yours and the words she had uttered, for your ears only. it had always been easy for the girl to make you feel so small; so shy and yet so bold in your willingness to do anything for her if she asked.

“cat got your tongue?” she whispered, noticing the way in which she had silenced you and revelling in it while the pad of her index finger ran over your jaw. she observed the way the corners of your lips twitched with a shadow of a smile before you leaned a little closer to her, and she couldn’t help but let her gaze fall to the way in which the edge of your dress pulled away from your chest. the valley of supple skin between your breasts was almost calling for her; begging to be kissed and licked and sucked between her teeth, reddened and bruised and marked for a couple of days.

“no,” you bluffed, shrugging your shoulders as nonchalantly as you could manage to pass off. “i was just waiting for you to tell me which one you’d prefer.“

“how about i show you?”

. . .

a cacophony of sound; feet shuffling, the door locking, deep breaths and heavy sighs, filled the intimate space of the room which yourself and ellie soon found yourselves in. her provocative comment had caused you both to make quick work of rising from your seats at the table, your hand slotting into hers like second nature, and your underwear already becoming bedewed from beneath your skirt as she tugged you towards the washroom.

your head was spinning in the best way possible, partly thanks to the alcohol, but otherwise due to the adrenaline which was pulsing through your body like heroin. everything was a blur; everything except the features belonging to your girlfriend which rested just a mere few centimetres from your own face. kisses that were being pressed to your lips took a couple of seconds to be reciprocated, but which were soon accompanied by arms which snaked around your waist and pulled you from the wood of the door, flush against her body as the kisses deepened and soon became one messy, passionate, wordless conversation of shared i love you’s, i missed you’s, i want you’s. your body seemed to become utterly malleable in that moment, moulding into ellie’s like sand as her hips pushed into yours and her hands smoothed over the rise of your ass while yours slid over her shoulders and enjoyed the softness of her cotton shirt against your fingertips.

“mm,” she pulled away from the kiss, lips pink and pupils already blown out so much that her eyes— always so pretty in their viridescence— now seemed deeply sable. “been wanting to touch you all night,” her words were hot against the side of your face as she leaned in and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your jaw, taking them down to your neck where she tasted your perfume on her tongue. you felt her fingers teasing the edge of your skirt, the pads of each digit gliding over the silky fabric and barely skimming the skin of your upper thighs.

“you’ve got me now,” you reassured her, head taking full advantage of the solidness of the door that it rested against. “all to yourself,”

your words caused the girl to smile. “oh, i know. i’m so lucky,” her lips spoke against your collarbone when she finally reached it, teeth grazing the prominent bone menacingly while her fingers toyed with the elastic hem on your underwear. “y’gonna let me touch you, baby?” ellie whispered again, lifting her head to catch your eyes in her darkened stare.

“yes, ellie,”

“mm? you want me to?”

her index fingers hooked around the waistband.

“god, yes,”

“say please,”

her thumb brushed over your veiled folds.

“please, ellie. please,”

your pristine manners, the breathiness of your voice, and the way in which she could almost feel how your cunt was throbbing beneath her touch caused any light that was still evident in ellie’s eyes to be blown out; totally snuffed in a mere couple of seconds. agile fingers pushed the thin piece of material aside while the open palm of her free hand trailed over your breasts, and you felt the cool pads of her digits begin rubbing circles on your clit; firm enough to make your body go stiff, but slow enough to ensure that she could gather all of your wetness.

“fuck, baby,” ellie sighed, eyes threatening to roll back just from the feel of you beneath her digits. “you’ve been wet for a while, huh?”

you nodded, head feeling weightless atop your shoulders as your girlfriend continued her exploration of your arousal.

“is that right? been wet for me all night?” her voice seemed quieter now as she leaned in closer to you, lips pressing against your shoulder in open-mouthed kisses.

you nodded your head again, eyelids heavy and chest beginning to rise and fall a little faster the moment you felt her fingers pick up beneath your skirt. “yes, oh my god,”

“mm, does that feel good?” ellie’s words were hot against your skin; almost scorching against your pulse as her lips began climbing the lustrous slope of your neck.

“feels so good,” you made sure to keep your voice down, the feeling of intense pleasure swarming your body not being quite enough to swipe your conscience completely clean of the fact that yourself and ellie were separated from the other residents of jackson only by a wooden barrier. “need you…”

“yeah? what do y’need me to do, sweet girl?”

the way in which ellie’s fingers were encircling your clit was beginning to make your knees wobble; you needed more, she knew you did. your body was trembling against hers like a newborn calf, your fingers gripping onto her shirt. “need you to fuck me,” you weren’t embarrassed to say it, nor were you too stubborn, which would certainly have been the case if the shoe had happened to be on the other foot. plus, you knew how much ellie enjoyed hearing you tell her what you wanted; how much it satisfied her every need alone, just to simply hear the words come out of your mouth. “please…”

the girl hummed, her middle and third finger parting to slide over your folds, which were both so deliciously slick with the wetness she had been enjoying only a few seconds earlier. she lifted her head from your shoulder, catching your gaze as best she could from behind your blissful expression and heavy eyes to soak up the desperation and ardour which resided in your irises. “i love you,” she whispered, leaning close enough to whisper against your lips. you remained quiet, the sound of your deep inhales and exhales being the only shadow of an answer that she received. that was when she decided to dip the very tip of her middle finger into your luscious hole, which she could already tell was flooded with your arousal in an attempt to prompt a real response from you. “do you love me, baby?”

you released a shaky breath, lips parting a little wider when you felt ellie ease her finger into you a little further, but still not enough to be fully satisfied. “yes,” you nodded, voice heavy but still quiet enough to remain undetected.

“yeah?” she was mocking you now, her finger dipping in and out of your hole at a snail’s pace; still not enough to relieve you. “say it,” your walls were in desperate need of something to tighten around, your wetness beginning to dampen your inner thighs as your girlfriend taunted you, her free hand coming to slide one strap of your dress down your arm, then another. pulling the material from over your breasts, her eyes trailed over the way your pebbled nipples protruded from the silken skin, and the prepossessing fullness of your tits. “c’mon. tell me you fucking love me, pretty girl.”

“i love you,” you breathed, and that seemed to be music to ellie’s ears; the music she had been yearning to hear all night, and enough to finally make her sink her finger into you completely. you instinctively gripped onto her shoulder at the sensation, eyes turning to the ceiling and lips parting to let out a breathy moan as you felt the callused pad of her digit skim over your walls. she was easing you open, just like she always loved to do, while her thumb took its time in smoothing over your nipples with ease. you could already feel your feet threatening to slip out from under, and therefore you kept one hand clamped on ellie’s shoulder in a vice-like grasp, while the other remained tucked behind your back; palm open and desperate in its search for a solid grip on the wood.

your girlfriend teased the outer edge of your hole with a second finger. "mmm,” ellie’s voice vibrated over the expanse of your chest as she littered the rise of your breasts with sloppy kisses, tongue wetting the skin unapologetically. “you feel so fucking good, baby,” the warmth of her breath blew over your hardened nipples, and you felt your back begin to arch from each of the simultaneous sensations which were now ricocheting throughout your body like bullets; one, after the other, after the other. it was then that you felt your nipple become swathed by the flick of ellie’s tongue; then, the sheathing of her lips, and with a subtle curl of her finger, your back started arching off of the door when you felt her push a second digit inside you.

“oh, fuck,” you gasped, arm coming across to drape itself around both of ellie’s shoulder and your nails digging into her bicep through her shirt. she wasn’t going easy on you now, either; both fingers crescent moons, and already pushing against the sponginess of your g-spot like it was nothing. finally finishing her gentle assault on your breasts, she lifted her head and admired the way in which your eyes had fallen closed, jaw having falling slack and your eyebrows furrowed in pleasure.

“you like that? like it when you can feel me nice ‘nd deep, sweet girl?”

“ye–es, fuck... ellie,”

“sound so pretty when you say my name,” oh, she was getting comfortable, now. “always love hearing it, baby...” ellie knew you were teetering on the edge of an orgasm; clinging onto the last sliver of sanity which barely remained, and so she was tactical in the bending of her thumb and its newfound position on your clit. the obscene squelching which could be heard from beneath your skirt made you bite down on your lip in your best attempt to hold back your moans, and made ellie grin against your jaw as she came to rest her face in the crook of your neck. “oh, fuck yeah,”

the noticeable tightness of your cunt, on top of the incessant pleasure she was supplying to your every nerve through the rhythmic movements of her fingers was threatening to let you down; lungs swelling with the need to cry out from how close you were getting to reaching orgasm. ellie could sense it. she had noticed the way in which your knees had began to buckle and how your spine had curved, body slumped against the door as if you were fully prepared to give it all up. with her gentle words of encouragement being pressed into your neck as if she intended to make them stain, the brunette made quick work of snaking her arm around your waist to hold you up, her grip firm, yet somehow, so gentle, as you reached the great peak of your entirely euphoric, entirely secret, little meeting.

“ellie,” you panted, her name almost totally lost on your lips from beneath the breathy moans that followed. “oh my god. p–please don’t stop, please don’t fucking stop, baby,”

you felt ellie moan into the side of your neck, her thumb brushing over your swollen clit where it began to rub small, firm circles again. “yeah? are you gonna cum?”

“fuck, fuck, fuck, yes,”

her fingers sped up, plunging in and out of your soaking cunt, desperate to earn her prize. “cum for me, pretty girl. i’ve got you, c’mon. i’ve got you,” the way in which the girl coaxed you through the pleasure— disregarding the gibberish which followed your previous coherence, yet making sure to savour every syllable— only made your orgasm more intense. your walls spasmed around ellie’s fingers, eyes rolling back into your head and lips pressed tightly together to muffle the moans which rose up in your throat and threatened to crash straight through them, like a tsunami past a floodgate. your orgasm washed over you; intense and merciless, rendering you stone-cold sober yet disorienting you like a concussion, and with no room for anything other than a ripple in your abdomen, and the absolute soaking of ellie’s hand.

your girlfriend could feel your pulse through your neck, thumping against her face, her skin practically burning from the warmth that was radiating from your body as it remained flush against hers; rendered totally rigid only a few minutes ago, but now falling limp and docile. she couldn’t help but moan into your neck when she slowed her movements enough to feel the stickiness that coated her fingers, her palm, her fucking wrist at this point. she made sure to slide her fingers out of you with conscious and noticeable care, her other hand soon reaching down to slip your underwear back into its original position over the top of your heat. once your grip had loosened from around ellie’s shoulder, and she was content in the sturdiness of your stance upon letting go of your waist, the two of you shared a smile; ellie’s accompanied by eyes which were evidently florescent, and yours through heavy lids.

“good?”

“mm,” you nodded. “always so good,”

your girlfriend leaned in and smiled, capturing your lips in a kiss which was rich in love and reassurance, and which you were quick to return. “good,” she whispered once the two of you had pulled away. “i don’t know how the hell you stayed so quiet, though.”

you grinned, cheeks turning a gentle shade of pink as ellie pushed your hair back from your face. “well, i mean... i’d rather dina remember tonight for reasons other than what we got up to in the bathroom, y’know.”

ellie nodded her head, watching as you slipped the straps of your dress back over your shoulders and smoothed down your skirt. her eyes were full of adoration, pupils still twinkling in the dim light of the room as she took a moment to just look at you. somehow, you looked more beautiful in that moment than you had looked all night, if that was even possible; your eyelids still weighty, skin abundant with that particular kind of glow and your lips slightly reddened. “i love you,” she reminded you, lifting your chin between her thumb and index finger. “a lot.”

“and i love you,”

“even in this stupid suit?”

“oh,” you nodded, biting back a smirk. “especially in that stupid suit.”

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams smut #ellie williams the last of us #ellie the last of us #ellie williams #ellie williams fanfic #tlou 2 fanfic #the last of us fanfic #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us 2 fanfiction #tlou 2

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luveline · 1 year

Note

hihihi! request for zombie steve au! maybe someone at the college bullies reader into thinking she’s not good enough for steve?

just gotta say that I LOVE LOVE LOVE all your works & esp this au 😩 it just does something to me

hi thank you so much for your request! I didn't make it so severe as bullying I don't think, but tw for bullying just to be safe, and suggestive! tw mentioned weight loss <3 zombie!au steve 9k words

The dinner line is long and winding. You and Steve stand elbow to elbow, the smell of refried beans and homemade tortillas near hypnotising.

"I know the tortillas are gonna taste a little weird, I just don't care," you say, the hand you’ve curled around your boyfriend's forearm squeezing enthusiastically.

"Imagine if they had cheese," he taunts.

"Don't be evil, Steve."

His laugh dissappears into the swelling sounds of a hundred conversations. It feels like high school, bodies packed into the same room like a bingo wheel, people bouncing off of one another frenetically as the night turns forward. There's a lot of happy energy in here tonight. You're contributing at least half. Not even Steve's unfortunate truths can get you down. Yeah, you miss cheese a lot, but after a full day in the pantry shift and close quarters to such gorgeous smells, you're ravenous.

Your stomach gives a rumbling groan, and Steve's pressed so close to you that he can feel it. He wraps his arm around your shoulder to kiss the top of your head.

His easy affection sates you for a while. You turn to watch the people already sitting with their meals, jealous but not too much, and find your happiness isn't grudging. You're happy to be here. You won't take this stroke of luck for granted, not again.

You and Steve get your plates, refried beans, roasted greens seasoned with a vibrant red that smells spicy and decadent. There's definitely olive oil mixed in. You thrum with pleasure but wait patiently for steve to collect his own helpings, your cutlery, and finally, your drinks.

Robin sees you coming and waves you down unnecessarily. She's sitting with a dark-haired girl called Vanessa, and another girl you're unsure of. Vanessa had been part of your rescue squad, the team of people who'd fought to bring you back to The College. You'd show her some gratitude if she deigned to look at you.

No matter how snooty you find her, Robin likes her. You try to like her too.

"Hey," you say, putting your place setting down in front of Robin to encourage Steve to her side.

He might downplay it but you know how much he loves her, and how much he'd missed her when they were separated. She's an extremely important part of his life. You wish he'd spend more time with her outside of scavenging and supply runs, but Steve is stuck to you like glue. It's awful and amazing.

"Hi, killer," Robin says.

You scrunch up your nose. "We're still using that?"

"You were impressive!" she emphasises.

Steve puts his drink down before his plate. She's quick to grab it, taking a generous swig as he grumbles and grouches.

"Do you mind?" he asks.

"I don't. Tell your girlfriend you think she was impressive!"

"She knows exactly how I feel about her."

You smile at him. You know more than enough. He's a sweetheart through and through, and though the incident Robin's referencing hadn't been one he loved, he agrees; you'd managed to cut down six zombies all by yourself when they'd split off from a herd that managed to infiltrate community defences, and Steve had thought you were a rockstar. He'd grabbed you, covered in blood and sweat, and asked you why you couldn't just stay inside, and then he'd hugged you for too long, and said later, "My girl's a fucking weapon." Like a nerd.

It's not complicated. Steve had been in danger. You'd wanted to save him, and you'd tried. Turns out he'd be the one to save you… for the hundredth time. But your efforts impressed him.

Impressed everyone, according to Robin.

"Hey, Vanessa," you say warmly.

Vanessa gives you a strange smile in return. Despite mutual friends, Vanessa hasn't warmed to you. She'd been one of the only people who'd volunteered for your rescue squad but you're starting to think that hadn't been because she liked you, exactly. She just couldn't really say no.

"Hey," she says. "How are you?"

Civil you can do easily. You and Steve had been civil for weeks.

"I'm good! Yeah, we heard there were gonna be real tortillas tonight and thought we'd get here early, but everybody had the same idea, I guess."

She laughs politely. "We did."

You wouldn't villainise Vanessa for disliking you. You barely like yourself. And, in your opinion, you'd gotten pretty damn lucky that Steve likes you as much as he does, though a small voice whispers that it'd been a grudging sort of love, like a flower squeezing its way through two panels of sidewalk. A weed that isn't supposed to be there. You worry often and in droves that Steve will come to his senses. He's gonna wake up one day, look at your sleeping face, and realise it isn't enough.

When you'd first joined The College community, you'd thought for sure that was it. Steve was gonna trample your heart once and for all. He never did, of course. The opposite — he'd doubled down. Told you he loved you for the first time, and a second time, too.

And now, miles trekked to get you back, his calf a blistering star of heat where it kisses your own beneath the table, your doubts fade away.

Vanessa doesn't have to like you. That's not the way the world works. With Steve at your side, the rejection barely stings.

You rub your shoe gently against his ankle. He looks up at you, a crazy amount of tortilla in his mouth, and he looks so silly you laugh hard and suddenly.

He covers his mouth.

"I thought you were looking somewhere else," he defends.

"Pig," Robin says, still sipping at his cup of water.

You rub his ankle again. A joke waits at the tip of your tongue, You're lucky I love you. It would feel good to say, but it's not your thing. You've never been outwardly romantic.

His cheeks pink a little under the fluorescents.

For Steve, you can be romantic.

"You're lucky I love you," you say.

There's too much emphasis on 'love', not enough on 'lucky', and the joke refuses to land. Your voice is softer than silk. It's all too sweet.

"More than lucky," Steve says, grinning at you.

You try to put your glass of water on his tray. He puts its straight back on your own.

"Robin's gonna go get me another one," he says.

"I need one for myself," she says, unhappy.

"You have two hands."

"Will you get me a refill?" Vanessa asks.

Christopher, another of Steve's fast friends, slams his tray down next to yours happily. Jonathan is right after him, and then the table's filling up with people: Jonathan's younger brother sits beside him, and the younger brother's friends follow. They're all glued together, you swear. You recognise Dustin in the throng, his chestnut brown curls crushed under a blue hat bragging the Claypole Farmer's Market, wherever that is.

"Steve's getting drinks?" Chris asks.

"For me too, please," Jonathan adds. "And Will, if you don't mind."

"I actually do," Steve says.

"And us!" Dustin says, smirking. "Thank you, oh gracious one."

Steve looks at you for a second, slack-jawed. Can you believe this shit? He stands up, grumbling, and forces his hand between Robin's upper arm and chest to drag her with him.

"Come on, Rob, I can't carry them by myself."

"Steve, please, I'm tired," she moans, her words all lifted and croaky.

"How'm I supposed to carry them by myself? Am I a fucking squid?"

"I'll help," you say, happy to do it, anything for him and at any time.

He puts his hand out to you, a universal gesture for Sit the fuck down. "Buckley will be more than capable." His smile softens. "Thank you."

You pout at him very gently in a kissy face to watch him light up. It's cheesy and rom-com, and it works like a charm. By the time he gets Robin on her feet the tips of his ears are completely blushed, a stark red against the mousy browns and blondes of his hair.

"Hey, Y/N," Chris says, mouth full of tortilla. Boys are all the same.

"Hey," Jonathan echoes, and at least his hand is in front of his mouth, "how are you feeling? They let you back in the kitchen yet?"

"They did. Hopper really didn't like that I broke the lock down rules, but at the same time, I think he understands that I'm a grown up."

Lock down rules being, once a door is shut, it stays shut. Do not give a herd the opportunity to worm its way inside.

But you'd made sure the coast was completely clear, and after Maybelle and Pauline, your fellow kitchen staff, had vouched for that, he'd let you off the hook, and back to work. You hadn't realised how punishing not working could be, especially when Steve had stayed on shift, his time split between scrounging outside of the community and fence duty. There's nothing to stop you from spending the day thinking about what-ifs, which is veritable torture.

"You missed the kitchen? Did you make these?" Chris asks.

You turn to your food and tear off some of the warm tortilla, sighing with pleasure. "No, I'm just kitchen pantry, you know? I'm sorta like an accountant. Like Dora in the armoury, or–" You nod at Vanessa with a smile. "Vanessa. You're in charge of the toiletries and stuff, right, with Cooper and Dean, and those guys?"

She clears her throat. "It's more than 'toiletries and stuff,'" she corrects with a stilted laugh. "It's everything that isn't food. Medicine for the medic, the nursery supplies, the batteries. It's important."

"No, of course! I didn't mean to imply anything else. I can't imagine."

You're sure her smile this time is genuine. You and Vanessa can't seem to mesh because she's a little more serious than you are and your easygoing tone rubs her the wrong way, but you think your explanation makes it up.

She opens her mouth to speak when Dustin leans over the table, projecting his voice down the line. "Y/N! Are you coming to cards club tonight?"

"I don't know, babe," you say, startled at his question. "I thought so. If Steve isn't too tired then yeah, absolutely."

"You can come without Steve," Jonathan says.

"I know," you say, softly so you know he's grateful for the reassurance.

"You're the only one who can beat Will at Yahtzee. You have wicked luck," says Mike, their pale, dark-haired friend, who usually rivals Dustin for hostility. You're glad he seems to like you.

"Yahtzee isn't luck based," says Will.

The entire group groans at the ignition of a familiar argument.

"Robin, if you fucking nudge me again I'm gonna make sure this goes all over you," comes Steve's voice.

You turn in your seat to watch their procession of glasses, at least six between them with not a tray in sight. Robin looks confident, Steve terrified. You jump to your seat to rescue him, taking his third glass from the nestling group so he can pick up his pace.

"Thank you," he says, dipping his head down for a kiss.

You're surprised but never not wanting to be kissed by him, your chin lifting on automatic to reciprocate. You chase him when he pulls away, turning one kiss into two, his lips the tiniest bit chapped against yours. It's a comforting pressure.

You ease away. "Are we going to card club tonight?"

"If you want to, of course we are."

"You aren't tired?"

"You're saying I look ugly."

He glares at you, faux-offended.Your laugh is peeling, infectious to your own ears.

"No!" you deny.

"Right." He tries to be deadpan, sighing in defeat when he can't keep up the illusion. "Shit, I almost had it. S'too bad I'm a sucker for you when you smile like that."

—

Later that night, you and Steve are sitting around the very same tables that have been wiped down with a watery lysol, and you have an amazing three game Yahtzee streak going where nobody can beat you.

Steve's ears are ringing with the clattering sound of dice in the shaker, and he's freezing. It's a great night. He shrugged out of his jacket to lay it over your shoulders, and has to periodically readjust it to stop it from falling to the floor, your arms moving enthusiastically with each new shake.

Steve winces as Dustin makes a fatal mistake. He’s used his two sixes to mark a 12 in the sixes column, holding out for a yacht.

"Dude, the chances of getting Yahtzee are like, one in a thousand," Steve says.

"One in thirteen hundred," you correct, already scooping up Dustin's die to take your turn.

"One in seven thousand and seven hundred for each number," Mike says.

"Ew," Steve says, face slumped into his palm, elbow aching where it's pushed into the table. "You fucking nerds infected my girl."

"It's in the rule book," you say, shaking the circular dice container with your hand on top. You throw them out on the table and assess your given numbers with a frown.

You have three threes and two ones. You keep the threes and shake the other two dice again. Yahtzee had felt complicated when Steve first learned how to play, and now it feels maddening. It's definitely luck based, in his humble opinion, and that has nothing to do with his never winning a game, he swears.

"Does the chance of rolling a Yacht get higher if you keep the dice?" he asks, gesturing to your three threes.

"Yeah," you mumble, throwing your second shuffle out onto the table. "Yeah, but it's pretty negligible, handsome. Goes from point one to point two."

"It isn't negligible," Will denies. "It's probability, not luck, and it isn't point one, it's zero point zero eight, and it can be as high as zero point five. That's one in two hundred."

"That math isn't right," Dustin says.

"Yes, it is."

"No, it isn't."

You throw out your last shuffle and everyone leans in to see what you rolled. Your three threes are kept to one side, and your new rolls clatter to a halt in front of Steve.

"Holy shit," he says.

You rolled two threes.

"Yahtzee!" you cheer, pumping your little fist adorably. Little in that it's smaller than his, and not very little in reality. "Alright, who's next?"

"The game isn't over," Dustin says, peeved.

You peer down his scorecard. He could win, theoretically, if he were to score multiple yachts, or if he'd been careful with his aces, ones, etc.

"Nah, it is," Steve says. "Take it like a champ, Henderson."

Dustin refuses to give up, playing until the end. You score a solid 319 to his less impressive 178.

Steve robs your hand before you can agree to a rematch, forcing you to unfurl your tensed fist. He loves doing this — he presses the tips of his thumbs into the sides of one of your fingers and pushes down. It must hurt a teeny tiny bit but you never say a word, only giggle at his touch and lean toward him like you might tell him a secret. He would lament how much time he wasted being an asshole to you if he had the wherewithal. As it is, he's enchanted with you, and he isn't casual about it, pushing all of your anxiety down to your fingertips. He brings them to his mouth and kisses them each in turn.

You pull your hand away. He thinks you're standing up to leave the table, but you're moving closer to him and straightening your back. He can picture the ache between your shoulder blades as it is between his own, the weird raw feeling, a tightness.

"Want a neck massage?" he asks as you place your hand against his cheek.

You brush your thumb over his stubble. "Do you want a neck massage?" you ask, unperturbed by his sudden question. His jacket threatens to slide onto the floor.

"Are you offering?"

"Not in cards club." You look over his shoulder. "We could play poker."

"The buy-in's too expensive."

"What?" You frame his face with your hand. He's not sure you know you're doing it. "We can spare it, isn't that why we brought it?"

Buy-in tonight is a bar of soap. Half the time everybody goes home with what they brought anyways, so you're obviously not worried.

You squeeze his cheek and laugh. "You'd be cute if you were chubby."

He grabs your hand, face warped by an irreplaceable joy, a delight to have you and be with you, a sparkling kind of lightness to know you're safe and happy here. He kisses your cheek, and says, smushed up against your skin, "You're cute."

"Thank you."

He hums. "So. Poker?"

—

You have a small sink in your room with a hot and cold faucet, though no matter which one you choose, the water comes out cold. It chills your face as you scrub. When your face is reasonably wet, you lather the bar of honey soap Steve insists on keeping at the side of the sink between your fingers before dropping it imprecisely into your boyfriend's waiting palm. He laughs under his breath at the clumsy manoeuvre.

You listen to him do the same as you had as you soap your face. You give special attention to your nose, your eyebrows, and your ears. Steve laughs again as you work a small towel behind them.

"What's funny?"

"Nothing." He holds his hand out for the towel, patting down his face with less ardency. He isn't less clean for it. "You have suds under your nose. Tiny moustache."

He reaches for it with the towel, lifting your face with the back of his hand under your chin. His eyes are their forever warm brown, fixed on your top lip with a dedication that makes your baseline fondness for him surge.

"I was pretty bad at poker, huh?" you ask.

"No?" He dries a lingering stretch of dampness painting your cheek before dropping the towel behind the faucets. "You didn't win. Doesn't mean you were bad."

"Vanessa said I should stick to Yahtzee," you tell him. You pause, wanting his input, and worried you're feeling offended by something that isn't inherently offensive.

"Vanessa should stick to lawn darts," he says, chucking you under the chin.

He starts to pull his pants down like it's no big deal. It isn't, not after so many months together, you've seen him do worse in worse states than this, but it feels forbidden anyhow to watch him climb into bed.

"Could you pass me my sweatpants?" he asks, face turned into the pillow, his shoulders deflating.

"You're decompressing without me."

"Am not." He pushes his hand under the pillow, shoulder blade shifting under his shirt noticeably. "Hurry and decompress with me."

You throw his sweatpants at his calves and he does a sort of vertical dance to put them on, one leg then the other, lifting his hips and dropping heavily back into the sheets when he's done. He looks at home. His relaxation catches you off guard, a pleasure to see even if it isn't strictly new. He feels safe here with you.

"She's good at those darts," you say.

"And shit at poker," Steve says agreeably. He lifts his head off of the pillow. "Are you coming in or are you gonna sleep standing up tonight?"

You shimmy out of your stiff jeans and try not to feel the huge weight of his eyes on your skin. It's an impossible task, and you fail immediately.

"Stop looking at me."

"M'not."

You glare at him, find him absolutely looking at you. Your glare fades when you realise how loving his gaze is, how it doesn't waver for a second. He pushes the sheets down on your side of the bed and waves his arm for you to get in.

You pull on your pyjama pants and take off your bra, climbing into bed beside him. He wraps his arm around you quickly, or rather under you, his bicep crushed by your shoulders. Chills prickle against your skin as he cups the flesh just shy of your breast. If Steve wanted to touch you like that, he could. You want him just as much as you don't, content to cuddle with him, content to kiss like teenagers with nowhere to go tomorrow, content to do worse. He spreads his fingers over your torso, pinky nudging the underside. You'd let Steve touch wherever he liked, and he'd enjoy doing it, you think. That's a gift in itself such casual intimacy.

"Vanessa, is she…" Steve's minty fresh breath pushes over your face like a small gale. "She's not picking on you, is she?"

You like to be honest with Steve, and you want to be honest now — I don't know. But you hate thinking he'd have to look after you more than he does already.

"No," you say, "we just aren't a good fit."

"Like a puzzle?" Steve asks sceptically.

"Guess my pieces are a little warped after spending so much time with you."

He laughs like you're the funniest girl he's ever met, a big breathy sound with the punch of his voice behind it. "Guess they are," he says, hand climbing higher over your chest. "Is that a bad thing?"

"Never," you say lightly.

He smiles at you. You forget Vanessa's out of place comments, her weak smiles, her for-show friendliness in front of Steve. She doesn't really matter in the grand scheme of things, and letting her dictate your thoughts in gorgeous, glowing moments like this would be a waste.

"Love you," you whisper.

Steve nestles into the space under your jaw. He doesn't fit but he does, of course he does, he's your everything. If that's where he wants to sleep tonight, so be it. You turn into his grasp to take the pressure off of his arm and return his gentle hugging, forcing his face closer so you can breathe in the smell of his hair.

"Love you," Steve says. He kisses your neck chastely. "Turn the light off?"

You reach back blindly and switch off the lamp. Everything will be okay as long as you have your boy. Right?

—

Vanessa gets worse. She makes neutral comments with enough friendliness to make you wonder if she's truly being cruel? Am I just looking for a fight? What do I want?

Maybe it's Vanessa's clear preference for Steve. You could be jealous. You aren't sure what jealousy feels like in relationships until she's touching him when she doesn't need to be and smiling at him like he hung the moon. She doesn't go overboard, though. She keeps her hands mostly to herself. She goes as far as to tell Steve that she thinks you're beautiful.

You don't know how to explain your reservations to him if he can't already see it. If she'd really thought you were beautiful, surely that's something she could say face to face, rather than the unhappy little nod she gives you whenever you cross paths? Despite evidence suggesting it, you don't think Vanessa's trying to make a move on Steve.

She's a bit of a bitch, but that's not a crime. Unfortunate? Yes. Illegal? No. Immoral? You aren't sure.

It's her most obvious dig yet that manages to grab Steve's attention a second time since the poker incident.

"I couldn't let my eyebrows grow out like yours," she says, voice bubbly with a faked awe, "I think it's super cool of you."

"Vanessa," Robin says, eyes on her plate, an inquisitive twist to her voice that you've come to know as her sarcasm, "we're in the apocalypse."

Steve, who'd seemed torn between speaking up and genuinely confused about the comment Vanessa'd made, chokes on his food beside you, soup dribbling down both corners of his mouth as he laughs. You wipe the corners of his mouth with your long sleeves.

"Jeez, you're like my baby," you say. Your voice is occluded by Jonathan's silvery giggles.

Steve swallows roughly, "I resent that."

He still lifts his chin so you'll rub the bead that's escaped down his throat.

Vanessa ends up laughing too, says, "I think I'm just crazy tired," punctuated with a high-pitched laugh.

"Honestly, me too," you say, because maybe she is, and maybe she needs just a little smidge more benefit of the doubt.

"I've been keeping her up," Steve says smugly.

"He still making you read that King book? The Gunslinger?" Jonathan asks. "Will wants it whenever you're done."

"Every night," you say.

You're pretending it's a chore because that's what you and Steve always used to do. These days room for sincerity is much larger, but it's fun to give him a hard time when, at the end of the day, you'll crawl into bed together and tuck his face into your neck, flipping to the dog-eared page of your worn paperback to read in dulcet tones until he's a dozing weight warming your skin.

Steve looks for your hand under the table and lets your small group of friends laugh at him. Chris makes a whipping sound through the corner of his mouth. It's surprisingly accurate, and it makes you laugh worse, leaning your weight into Steve's arm for support in an action so familiar it's entirely thoughtless.

"It's not that funny," he murmurs, breath tickling your forehead.

"M'not laughing," you say.

You are most definitely laughing. It's a good moment, even if Vanessa's comment sticks around underneath to nibble at your heart.

He doesn't let your hand go for a really long time. Not when you're taking the plates up to the dirty dishes trolley, or on the walk back to Little Hawkins' with everybody in high spirits. He struggles to unlock your door one handed and he's still insisting when you try to tug away from him.

"Let me make the bed."

"We're getting back in 'n like, ten minutes."

"You're tired?" you ask.

"No. I just wanna lay down with you."

He says it simply. Concise, with neither affection nor anything less. It's damn near factual. Steve just wants to lay down with you, out of everything in the world he could do. He could be haunting Robin's room, stealing snacks from under her bed and claiming them as bribes for not tattling on her to Hopper. He could be with Dustin in the new rec room —aptly labelled Nerd Club, when put to a vote— arguing on how to spend the valuable alloted half hour of TV time.

He could stay with you and insist on other things. Reading. Self-defence. A walk around the community. Sex. An early night. A cold shower.

But he's content to lay with you, to share one another's space without asking for anything else.

Though you won't rule everything out. His kisses lately are a lot more than you're used to.

"Let my hand go, you fiend!" you declare, overcome with a rush of affection for him. "I'm gonna make the bed and we're gonna lay down and then after that we're gonna go bother Robin."

"You know, I'm not sure I like this you and Robin thing."

You tug your fingers from his. It's like trying to escape a sticky fly trap.

"You mean us being friends?" you ask.

You throw all of your throws and pillows onto the ground and grab your thick quilt, shaking it out over your mattress as Steve groans.

"Exactly!"

"I thought you wanted me to have friends?"

"Of course I do, you word-twisting douche."

"Nice, nice. Dustin or Mike?"

"I stole that one from Will, thank you very much."

"See! You have upwards of four friends, Steve, and I'm not allowed to have any?"

He grabs you from behind. You drop the quilt with a sigh, going limp as a fish in his arms. He staggers backward under your dead weight but manages to keep you up, breath tickling the inside of your ear as he says, "No, you're not. Just me." He kisses your ear.

"I tried that and everyone got mad at me."

"No, they didn't."

They really didn't. You cover his arm with your fingers, rub your fingertips over the hill of his arm. His arm hair is soft.

"Steve."

"What?" he asks, his hands crawling down to cover your stomach.

"Don't squeeze me."

"You're very squeezable."

"I was way more squeezable before, remember."

You'd lost some weight from the start of the apocalypse to now. Steve hates it. You're perfect, he'd said once, no matter what. But still, he laments your lost weight for what it represents — times where you and he had struggled to survive.

"I'm working on that," he promises.

You turn your face, shifting in the circle of his arms to meet his eyes. He has gorgeous eyes. You'd admitted that to yourself a long time ago but each time you really stare into them it takes a moment for it to settle. He is a pretty, pretty boy.

He's looking at you with a soft smile. Then, for a split second, you swear his eyes rove up to your brows. It's more than likely your imagination.

"Let me finish making this bed," you say, turning back to the discarded pile of pillows and blankets.

"You want your jammies?"

You snort happily. "Yeah, sweetheart. Lay 'em out for me, please."

—

For the last week or two, Steve has noticed a change in you. You've changed a lot since you met him (for the second time). You've gone from prickly and distant and somewhat distracted to determined, vigilant. You may not come on scrounging missions outside but you're brave, and you've survived more than he ever wanted you to have to go through.

This change is distinctive. It's like you've reverted to how you acted when you were more friend than girlfriend; you're self conscious.

He really hates it.

He can't work out what he did, or what happened, but it sucks. He sucks.

"There has be be something you want," he says.

You're standing with him by the south fence. He and his team are about to head out for the shopping mall for as many blankets as they can carry.

"I just want you to be careful," you say.

You look tired. It's early in the morning, and you'd woken up earlier still. Your hair is freshly washed from a cold shower.

You're still not comfortable showering without him, but of course the other girls aren't comfortable with him sitting in there when they're naked. You've had to schedule your showers for the dawn hour.

"I'm gonna be careful for free," he says, pulling at a wet strand of your hair. He scratches lightly around your ear before hooking his fingers underneath it, his thumb drawing from your cheek to your lips. "Pick something you want and I'll find it. You know, Robs said we might be able to pass by a real small cherry garden on the way home. Do you–" He should know this. Why doesn't he know this? "Do you like cherries?"

Thankfully, you laugh at his question and let your face fall into his hand. He thumbs your ear lobe gently.

"I don't want anything at all. 'Cept for you to be extremely careful," you say.

He pulls you in for a hug, smashes a messy kiss to your head, and tries to pull away because he's cool and the guys are watching.

You're less quick. You rub your cheek against his chest.

"Please, Steve," you whisper.

He frowns. There's something you're not telling him. He wishes you would, but clearly you don't think you can. He's gonna try to do whatever it is he needs to do to get you there.

Steve takes your face into both hands.

"I will be super careful, dummy. That's my middle name, I'm Steve Careful Harrington," he says.

"I thought your middle name was Danger?"

He kisses you. "No? Who told you that?"

Your laugh is pretty enough to keep him smiling for most of the hike to the mall, until Robin says, mid sentence, "–Jeez, you're pathetic."

Pathetic for you is something he doesn't necessarily mind being, but pathetic in general he cannot abide. He spends the rest of the hike stepping on the sides of Robin's shoes as she retells the plot of Murder on the Orient Express. Steve had seen the movie once but he's never read the original novel. Lucky him, Robin had an Agatha Christie phase when she was twelve, and she knows all the best parts.

Hike is a strange word considering all of their walking is through steep roads. They move past rundown cars, streets and streets of abandoned houses scraped clean. There's an elementary school with a rusted playground in front. Vegetation has already started to spread through the packed wood chip flooring, and one of the swings has a broken chain. Steve hadn't realised how quickly human things fell into disrepair when attacked by the elements and left maintenance.

The mall is a better example. Smashed glass lays around the entrance in tiny pieces like a huge back of upturned sugar, and bluegrass eats its way between paving stones. The team consists of eight people, including Steve, Robin, Christopher, and one of the College's co-leaders, a mister Jeremy Livingstone. They make their way carefully through the glass and grass in a wave of crunching footsteps to the front of the mall, where Steve wedges the flat blade of his knife between the automatic doors and works them open. When there's enough room for a second hand, Chris slides in beside him, and they work the doors open. Steve's biceps are burning by the time they're inside the mall.

"Alright, guys," Jeremy says. "There's a bedding store toward the back of the mall. We'll go there first, and then we'll try to work through the list of requests. Blankets and sheets are our second priority. Staying safe and alive is first. Only grab what you know you can carry, you can bring back whatever you want, just… don't be greedy. Alright?"

They head out for the bedding store at the back.

"How much stuff can we carry?" Robin asks him. "I have weak arms. I'm a weakling."

"Isn't there uh, a fancy storage place? We could drag a suitcase back."

"For two hours?"

"Is it two hours? Livingstone! You want me and Robin to grab some suitcases?"

Everybody fills a suitcase with sheets and blankets in plastic wrap. The brand new stuff feels like a luxury, and Steve dibs a double mattress bedspread made of Egyptian cotton, knowing that'll make you smile. Now he's got your mattress up on those crates from behind the cafeteria, your room has really come together. Blankets and trinkets and sweet glassware. You have a small shelf of books, your clothes, your pens and pencils.

Steve'll bring you anything you want, only you don't seem to want anything at all.

He'll just… have to bring you some of everything.

—

Your tears taste salty. You feel gross for licking a tear off of your top lip but nobody's around to see you do it; Steve might not be home until dark. You have time to get this upset out of your system.

You'd been asked by Maybelle to swing by Armoury and Amenities, an unofficial name for the building where the community keeps the bulk of its collective resources, for a new propane tank. You'd gone inside, said hi to Cooper, said hi to Vanessa, explained why you needed the propane, and left.

Or, you'd tried to leave. The propane tank was heavy, and the front door had been difficult to open one handed. You'd swung it open, quickly put your hand back on the tank to stop yourself from dropping it, and watched in frustration as the door slammed closed before you could worm your way out.

"She's the one who got, like, taken?" came Cooper's voice, pretty much as soon as the door stopped bouncing. His voice echoed from the next room.

"Sure, taken."

You'd stilled instantly.

"What, you think she wanted to go?"

Vanessa sighed. "No, I don't think so. She didn't try very hard to come back, s'all I'm saying."

"Chris says Harrington's infatuated with her. Like he's under a spell," Cooper said, chuckling.

"It's gotta be some kind of magic, she's… Well, God knows he'd have his pick if he came back to reality. You have the catalogue? I wanna note the propane before I forget."

And that had been that.

You don't understand why Steve loves you, sometimes. You know he does. It isn't up for questioning. Love with Steve is a lot of things — long talks in the mornings about anything and everything, his fingers tucking your shirt into your jeans. It's him pulling your hood over your eyes whenever he's behind you and laughing when you grumble. It's hiding in places you shouldn't be, hand in hand. It's miles of Indiana highway. It's heart-racing anxiety that one of you might not make it to the end. Love with Steve is a devotion: he takes care of you. He's taken care of you ever since you met.

You haven't stopped to wonder if you deserve it in a long time.

I don't, you think, half tears and all heartbreak. You don't deserve it. You don't deserve Steve. He's too good, the kind of good that starts life in the marrow of bones. He's sweet and soft-handed with a softer heart. He looks like a dream, and it shouldn't matter but it does. His voice is the only one you like waking up to, his lips hovering by the shell of your ear.

Time to get up, dummy. Rise and shine, angel. Baby, come on. We slept in, loser, and you need to get dressed. Hey, are you listening to me? I miss you, wake up.

"Y/N?" Steve asks, trying the handle.

You flinch hard, and your heart jumps with you. A flip flop somersault feeling in your chest that plummets to your stomach. You scratch madly at your cheeks with two woollen sleeves and stand up as he opens the door.

"Hey," Steve says, and he's safe, he's alive and well and home again.

He stands in the doorway with a bulging rucksack on his back, windbreaker zipped tight to his neck, hair a windblown mess. His nose is red from the cold and his cheeks are ice-bitten, though the colour is coming back to his skin slowly.

You don't feel as though you deserve him but you can't help yourself from springing into his chest, arms around his waist before he can blink. Before he can see the wet mess of your face, and your tear swollen eyes.

"Hey," he says again, leaning a great deal of his weight over your shoulders. He sniffs your hair. "Hey dummy. Told you I'd get home fine, huh?"

You try not to breathe too loudly against his chest. The fabric of his coat is stiff and cold, a contrast to your heated skin.

"Hey," he says, for a third time. This time it's all powdered sugar soft. Concern and exhaustion wrapped together. "I know, I'm sorry it took longer than usual. It's my fault, I wanted to get you something 'n' I made us all late coming home, I know you worry."

You don't answer again. You don't know how to explain it to him. You can barely understand it yourself. You cling to him and his solid mass until he gives in, his mouth pressed to your temple, his arms tightening behind your head. He shields you from the world for a handful of long, stolen minutes. There's nothing but his hugs, no sound to battle the plastic sounds of his windbreaker or the blood rushing between your ears.

"I didn't mean to worry you," he murmurs.

You don't trust your voice to come out whole.

He freezes under your touch. A slow hardening. His hands pause where they'd been rubbing short, featherlight lines.

"I'm sorry," you say, enthusing your tone with some self-deprecating cheer. "You're tired, I'm sorry. You wanna sit down."

"I really do." He laughs.

You peel away from him, the two of you sheepish and awkward and it's so unlike you, unlike him. You think you've made a fool of yourself as he takes off his rucksack, laying it carefully on the floor by the bed as you turn to your shared dresser and rummage through the top drawer for some clean clothes for him to take when he showers.

You've freaked him out, and he thinks you're a weirdo, and he's gonna realise you don't deserve him and you never could. You're bad at nearly everything, and you're a total slob, and you should've tried harder to get back to him, and it's all your fault. Misery grips you and drags you down hard. It spirals, surface level comments from a shallow, jealous girl, they twist and twist until you feel wrung out and useless. And now Steve's home, and you're–

"Are you mad at me?" Steve asks.

You wince and face him, his sweatpants pressed to your chest. "What?"

"You're not talking to me, and you only ever used to do that when you were mad."

You pass him his sweatpants, clear your throat. "Stevie, I'm not mad at you."

"Then what's up?" He unzips his windbreaker, keeping his eyes on you. "I know it's something."

You force yourself to keep a mild smile. You can't think of a lie — you don't want to lie.

Steve frowns as your face crumples, a large palm leaping to the curve of your neck.

"What's wrong?" he asks.

You can't align this Steve with the one you knew in Hawkins. He's so different. Or maybe he isn't different at all, and you're lucky to see the depth of his feelings, the expanse of his goodness and his heart and his secret smile, corners pulled up and eyebrows pushed down just so. It says, You're okay, because we're gonna do this together. The world will keep spinning for us as long as we want it to.

"I had a bad day," you say.

"Are you sure? I've seen you on some bad days, baby. This doesn't feel like that, you know? And I get that I don't always know what to say, but I promise I wanna know. Whatever it is that's been making you all grumpy."

His smile glows, his eyebrows rising. His teasing tone toward the end of his reassurance is a lightness you cling to.

Lately, everything has felt so heavy.

"I'm worried I don't…" Even attempting to say it has your throat aching. You cover his hand with yours. "Steve, I– I feel bad lately. I feel like I'm bad."

He shakes his head, strands of his brown hair unsticking to dance in front of his eyes. "You're not bad."

"I don't deserve you."

He stares.

"Being with you now, having you look after me, I didn't deserve you when I met you." A tear gathers in the line of your lashes. "I don't deserve you now. I'm just me, I'm useless, and you don't have to be with me and I've," —you take in a shuddering breath, and step away from Steve's hand— "been trying to work out why you're still with me and it doesn't make sense. Why do you stay with me?"

"That's a stupid question," he says.

You try to swallow a lump. It stays right there in your throat.

"I got a policy against stupid questions, remember?"

"Steve…"

He cuts you off, tangling his fingers with yours, and easing you close until his breath is warming your lips and you can see the honey-browns that circle his pupils. They feel bigger the longer you look at them.

"How can you ask me that?" he says gently. "You know how much I love you… Right?"

You nod and knuckle a tear off of your cheek. "I know," you say, and you're crying now, little bubbling sobs that wobble your shoulders.

"Listen, if I haven't been showing it I'm sorry, and I'll prove it to you. I don't want you to question it."

"It's not you," you say, pressing your forehead to his collar, craving his comfort so much that you don't care if you don't deserve it.

"Everybody knows that line is a lie," he says.

"I'm not lying. Everybody knows I'm the part that doesn't fit."

"Who's everybody?"

You try to backtrack and pull away, but Steve won't let you this time. "I'm just having a bad day," you say, "and you've had a long one–"

"Stop it." Steve looks at you seriously. He takes your face into both hands, like he always does when he's worried. "I don't care if I crawled home with two broken arms, loser. I gotta know what's wrong. All of it. And you need to tell me."

He thumbs at your damp cheeks.

"Okay," you mumble, embarrassed and relieved at once. "I'll tell you."

You insist that he take his shoes off and stretch out in bed even though he's got dirty jeans on, and he doesn't wanna get your nest of throw blankets dirty, so he peels out of them and sits in his boxers at the top of the bed. You slide in next to him, and he works his arm over your shoulder, and you cry like a baby when he calls you honey under his breath.

—

"And these are for you, too," Steve says, pulling a slightly smushed box of cherries from the bottom of his rucksack.

You look beautiful. Afternoon sunlight drips in from a crack in the curtains, kissing up and down your smiling cheeks. Your eyes are still puffy, but your smile hasn't moved all morning.

"You didn't get anything for yourself?" you ask, though any outrage for him you harbour is hidden by your awe. "I don't remember the last time we got fresh fruit, and you didn't even put them at the top of the bag."

"You're such a whiner. Just try one."

Your fingers play delicately over the punnet of cherries. The cherry garden had had a lot of supplies left to 'borrow', and after a sickly half an hour of him and Robin staining their teeth, he'd managed to grab a perfect box's worth for you. Perfect before they got squished, that is.

"You should have the first one," you say.

"No," he says, and shoves the box at your calf. "They're for you. If you like them, I want you to eat all of them and throw up like a godzilla."

"Not sure you're remembering that movie right," you murmur, plucking one of the cherries out of the box.

You bite into the cherry and your eyes screw up. "Oh wow, that's sour. I don't…" You finish chewing, and Steve is rocketed to cloud nine when you go in for a second cherry, and then a third.

Last night had been tough. Steve spent a long time talking you down from what'd been sewn into your head, and he'd pulled the truth from you in strings. Vanessa had been cruel to you on more than one occasion now, which Steve had known but not to the full extent, and her last comment had been too much. Steve, unapologetically, hates her.

But Vanessa isn't the sole problem.

You're having a really hard time. All of this has been so much for you. It is, in Robin's words, the fucking apocalypse, and between nearly starving to death and all the shitty things that have happened to you, he isn't surprised to find you're fragile. And he doesn't say fragile, meaning weak. He doesn't know a lot about the world but he knows the human brain and body isn't built for this. You're his girl, and you're hurting, and while he knows objectively this isn't his fault, he vows to do a better job at protecting you.

He won't fail you again. He can't.

He watches cherry juice escape out of the corner of your mouth.

"You're cute," he says. "Where's the disposable? Pass it over."

"You are not taking a photo of me right now, baby."

"You look beautiful."

"When will we ever get the photos developed, anyway?" you say, laughing, kissing juice off of your fingertips.

He leaps for the camera and tussles you when you fight back. You laugh and lose, weak with giggles as he holds you away, his fingers pressing into the soft plush of your waist.

"Jonathan does all of that stuff," Steve says knowingly.

He gives you a little shove. You cover your face with your hands, words muffled, "Thought the camera was for me?"

"We're sharers. We share things. Look, if you don't smile for me I'm gonna take a picture of you in your underwear."

You throw your hands over your lap and he snaps a photo of your shy face.

"Shithead fucking pervert," you say.

Steve knows he's off the hook when you laugh.

He's gonna give Vanessa the coldest shoulder anyone has ever given, and if she were a guy Steve would defend your honour in a more physical manner. He'd suggested a verbal defence last night but you'd begged him to never, ever bring any of it up to Vanessa or your friends. It startled him —you have nothing to be ashamed of— but he'd agreed. Whatever's gonna make you happy is, perhaps cornily, what he wants to do.

Right now, making you happy is gifts on the floor of your tiny shared bedroom, pantsless but, fascinatingly, with socks. He points the camera at your ankles.

You grab the new blanket he'd given you and drape it over your legs. "Pervert," you reiterate.

He puts down the camera.

"Not my fault they made you perfect."

"Who's they?"

Steve shrugs, and can't keep the smirk off of his face as he says, "They made every damn inch of you perfect, especially but not limited to your pretty eyebrows."

Your smile settles into something more timid. You push your hill of gifts aside, careful not to spill your cherries, and walk the short distance on knees to wrap your arms around his neck. Your face fits into the curve of his neck exactly the way it always will. His hand cups your lower back.

"Love you, Harrington," you say.

"How much? 'Nough to let me have some of the cherries?"

You shake your head gently, the tip of your nose bumping his Adam's apple. "No…" you say apprehensively.

"No? You don't wanna share with me?"

"No." Your mumbling is adorable. Steve wants to eat you alive, or at the very least kiss you until you turn to jelly in his arms.

If he starts now, he can be done by dinner.

"Five seconds to change your mind. After that I'm taking all of them by force. Five, four, three…"

You shriek, and even your shrieking is a sound he wants to hear. You drop away from him and grab the cherries, cornering yourself too fast as you stagger to your feet and hide by the desk. Shoulders against the cabinet, you grab up one of your rare books like a shield, and you glare at him over the cover.

"You said they were for me!" you say, real panic in your voice. You know from experience Steve will tickle you until you can't breathe.

"They are for you! I love you," he says, words dripping with a false sincerity (though he loves you, undeniably). "I'm just trying to help you, sweetheart. You don't want my help?"

"You keep your help away from me, beast."

It doesn't take him nearly as long as he'd thought to melt you. He tickles you, and he steals a handful of your precious cherries, and when he kisses you dizzy it leaves red-pink splotches over the column of your neck, his smile temporarily printed into your skin.

—

ty for reading <3 I hope you enjoyed, and if you did pls consider reblogging <3<3

#steve zombie!au #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things

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writerslittlelibrary · 6 months

Text

I'm your mother now, chapter 3

masterlist series masterlist

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8

summary: when you wake up in a strange room, you soon come to realize the amazing Black Widow, who appears to be the perfect role model for girls all around the world, is greatly deranged…

pairing: Dark!Natasha x teen reader

warnings: yelling, a lot of swearing, dark themes, kinda evil Natasha

genre: angst

words: 2188

a/n: chapter 3 is finally here! I find it a little short but it's mainly a filler chapter anyway. I hope you enjoy and don't forget to let me know what you think :)

(also, I have big plans for the next chapter, so definitly stay tuned to meet auntie Yelena)

If you'd like to see something in future chapters, or have any ideas, please let me know and maybe I'll use them

You do not have my permission to repost, copy or translate my work

|——————————— ⴵ ———————————|

You had been living with Natasha for about a week now, and while she was absolutely terrifying to be around, you found yourself enjoying her presence more and more. You hated yourself for it, of course. How could a person possibly enjoy the situation you were placed in?

Living with Natasha was like walking around on eggshells, on bare feet, while continuously getting cuts. When you did whatever Natasha said, she was happy. She treated you like she loved you, and you wouldn’t get hurt.

However, you tried that, and she didn’t seem satisfied. For the past 2 days you have been complying to whatever Natasha said. Doing whatever she asked of you, but it didn’t seem like Natasha was very pleased with it.

She wasn’t hitting you, nor yelling at you, but she didn’t seem pleased.

You couldn’t understand her. You decided if you became like a rag doll, you wouldn’t get hurt, and Natasha would be happy, but she wasn’t.

Yesterday Natasha yelled at you. You had been following her orders the entire day. Smiling whenever she told you to smile more, eating whenever she told you to eat, but you couldn’t find it in you to do it with any emotion. Maybe that’s what she’s so mad about?

She wanted you to be her daughter. She didn’t want a rag doll, she wanted a person, yet every day you spend with Natasha you seemed to become less and less of a person.

Today was no different. Natasha had woken you up like any other day, giving you a bath and picking out your clothes. You were all set for another day of being stuck in the house, left to do whatever Natasha had picked out that day.

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

You were watching tv, a privilege you earned for being such a good girl, according to Natasha. You didn’t really feel like watching it, but because it was a reward you felt like you had to, or you might make Natasha mad. That had been your main goal this past week. Avoid getting Natasha mad, and with that avoid getting a punishment. It had worked, mostly. You carried a few bruises here and there, but nothing to bad.

Watching tv was pretty boring. You hadn’t earned the privilege of getting a Netflix or Disney subscription, so it was just mindlessly switching between the channels. Nothing really interesting was on, until the news caught your attention.

Natasha had told you she was the only one that cared about you, and she was the only one that would ever love you, but the news channel proved something different.

There it was. Your face, with your name and identifiable features written under it. Missing was written in large red letters above your picture, a woman next to it talking about you, where you were last seen and why your disappearance was so out of the blue. She talked about how you might’ve ran away, seeing as though all the important stuff from your bedroom was missing.

You went silent, staring at the tv while holding your breath. Someone did care. Someone did want you to come home. They didn’t even know you were okay, let alone that you’d left the country…

You could hear a cup shattering behind you, and your head whipped around. Natasha quickly made her way towards the couch, grabbing the remote and turning the tv off. She angrily looked at you, and you shuffled away from her as you covered your face with your arms. “WHY WERE YOU WATCHING THAT?!” she yelled angrily at you, throwing her arms in the air in frustration, and you flinched from the sound.

Tears were already collecting in your eyes from the fear of what she’d do next. “THIS IS JUST WHAT YOU DO THEN HUH?! I GIVE YOU SOMETHING NICE AND THIS IS WHAT YOU DO WITH IT!” she continued yelling, and you let out a silent sob and you curled in on yourself, crying as you tried to cover yourself the best you could.

“I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU RIGHT NOW!” she yelled as she threw the remote at your face, missing your head by only a few inches.

You couldn’t stop yourself from sobbing, the fear of her hurting you growing bigger with every word she said. Natasha didn’t seem to notice your fear, and if she did she didn’t seem to care much for it. You were shaking, yet Natasha was yelling. “Go to your room!” she yelled, yet you were to scared to move. “GO TO YOUR FUCKING ROOM!” she yelled after you didn’t move, and you were quick to get up from the couch and run to your room, closing the door and crawling under the covers.

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

After about an hour, you could hear Natasha’s footsteps as she made her way up the stairs. You covered your entire head with your blanket, hiding beneath the covers, even though you knew it would make for little protection.

You heard Natasha open and close your door, and you felt the bed dip as she sat next to. “Detka,” you said in a cheerful, singsongy voice as she gently shook you. Her voice was sickly sweet, a complete 180 of how she behaved an hour ago. “Are you gonna come out, Malyshka? I’ve made you a snack,” she said as she tried to pull the covers from your head, but you held onto them tight.

“What’s wrong baby?” you questioned as she scooted herself a little closer. You didn’t know if she was just pretending, or if she actually didn’t know why you were so upset and scared.

She finally succeeded in pulling the covers from your head, seeing you covering your head with your arms. You knew that if she wanted to hurt you, she could, but it still made you feel safer.

“What’s wrong honey?” she asked as she gently wiped some hair from your face. “Why are you upset?” she questioned and you sniffled softly. You didn’t want to talk to her. You didn’t want to tell her what was wrong. How on earth could she not know what was wrong? She’s the one that had made you so upset in the first place. How on earth could she not know?

“Look at me y/n,” she said, and you quickly did what she ordered. You looked at her through glossy eyes, and she smiled sweetly at you.

“What’s got you all upset sweetie?” she asked as she gently stroked your hair, smiling patiently. You sniffled and pressed your eyes shut, shaking your head lightly. Natasha gave you a firm pat on your cheek. It wasn’t hard enough to count as a slap, but it was hard enough to remind you what she had ordered.

You quickly opened your eyes again and looked at Natasha as her smile returned to her face.

“Come on. Time to get up. I have a surprise downstairs for you,” she spoke as she got up from the bed, you following close behind her. Natasha was already making her way towards the door, but your question made her stop immediately.

“Why did you lie?”

She turned around slowly, the smile on her lips faltering slightly. “What?” she questioned, and you started questioning whether speaking up was a good idea.

“Someone does care! You’re not the only person that cares about me! You lied! You don’t even care about me at all!” you stopped when you saw Natasha’s facial expression change, watching as she slowly made her way towards you. You swallowed thickly when she stopped in front of you, anticipating what she’d do next.

Before you knew it, a slap landed on your cheek, your head whipping to the side.

When you felt the burn settle in you decided to bite your tongue, deciding to not say anything else. “I am the only person that cares about you. I am the only person that loves you. I am your mother and-” “You’re not my fucking mother!” you interrupted her, a wave of determination washing over you suddenly.

Before you could even register what you’d said, you felt another slap on your cheek. “You ungrateful little shit!” Natasha yelled as she grabbed a handful of your hair, making you yelp. Your hands immediately went up to hers to try and relieve the pressure, but it was of no use.

Natasha gave another particularly harsh yank as she moved towards your door, forcefully pushing you into the bathroom.

She placed you in front of the sink, pulling your hair to make you look up. She grabbed something from on top of the sink and forced it into your mouth. You choked on the soap bar as she kept it in your mouth, the soap tasting horrible.

You tried to push the soap bar out of your mouth, but Natasha stern hold made it impossible.

As you kept choking on the soap, you started crying. The uncomfortable stretch of your mouth hurting as Natasha kept a firm grip on your hair.

“I am you mother, and if you ever deny that again this will look like child’s play,” she spoke as she released your hair, allowing you to bend forward and spit the soap in the sink. You coughed and gagged as you tried to spit as much of the soap taste out, and you heard Natasha take a deep breath before she exited the bathroom, leaving you alone.

You cried silently as you continued coughing, missing the bathroom door opening and closing again. You felt Natasha’s hand on you back, rubbing soothingly as she shushed you.

“It’s okay, detka,” she said as she gently grabbed your chin, turning your face to her as she guided a glass of water up to your mouth. “Here you go, sweetie. Is that better?” she asked as she helped you drink.

You nodded slightly as you forced yourself to stop crying.

Natasha smiled sweetly at you as she hugged you, rubbing you back in circles gently. “I think we’ve had enough excitement for one day, don’t you?” she questioned as she pulled back from the hug, gently cupping your cheeks in her hands.

You nodded again, and Natasha gently kissed your tears away before placing a loving kiss on your forehead.

“Come on,” she said as she grabbed your hand, leading you downstairs. Your favourite snack was waiting on the counter, with a cup of your favourite tea next to it. “I don’t like it when we fight,” Natasha said suddenly, leading you over to the barstool and guiding you to sit on it.

“Let’s not fight anymore, okay, sweetheart?”

You wanted to yell at her. Tell her she is the reason you were mad in the first place. You wanted to hit and beat her until she would let you go, but you couldn’t.

Instead, you simply nodded, allowing her to give you another kiss on your forehead before she walked to the counter, turning her back to you. You didn’t want to speak to her, but somehow, not saying anything made you feel worse.

“When can I go outside?” you asked quietly before you took a bite of your snack.

“That’s something for another day. Maybe when the weather is a bit better,” Natasha replied shortly, clearly trying to avoid the question.

“I had another surprise in mind. One that I think you’ll enjoy very much.”

That caught your attention. No matter how upset you may have been at her, you could never ignore your curiosity. You needed to know what she had in mind. “What?” you questioned, and Natasha turned to you with a smile. She placed a device in front of you. It was a tablet. One that you’d been saving for for a while.

A few months ago, you decided you wanted an ipad, but the prices were too high, and you were too broke. You had started saving for it, but you never managed to reach your savings goal before you were... well.... kidnapped.

You looked at the ipad before looking up at Natasha. She smiled at you, and you couldn’t help but smile back slightly as well.

“Aren’t you gonna try it out?” Natasha asked as she saw your hesitance to reach for it. You looked at her, trying to see if it was a trap, but when you decided it wasn’t, you carefully reached for the ipad box.

When you held it in your hands, you couldn’t help but smile.

You slowly unpacked it, scared you’d drop it. When you finally held the device in your hand, you excitedly turned it on.

“I know we’ve had our differences, but this past week was just an adjustment period,” Natasha smiled as she took a step closer to you. “I love you,” she said as she placed a tender kiss on your forehead, lingering a little longer than before.

You didn’t pull your head away, and Natasha used that opportunity to hold you a little longer.

“Thank you…” you quietly said, and Natasha pulled back as she cupped your cheeks. She smiled warmly at you.

“It is my absolute pleasure, malyshka.”

chapter 4

tags: @carol-romanoff @simp-erformarvelwomen @clintsbigtoe @olsenmyolsen @leenasayeed @naslt @dvrkhcld @daddyshuri @wandanatsbaby @alphalesbianwolffoxdragontribrid @blackhill2245 @natsbraids @natsxwife

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catholic-character-tournament · 9 months

Text

Semi-Finals - Catholic Character Tournament

Propaganda below ⬇️

Sister Michael

She drives a DeLorean. She does judo on Fridays. She likes a good statue and despises the French. Her full nun name is Sister George Michael, after the guy from Wham!. She is the fiercest nun you’ll ever come across and, if you’re attending Lady Immaculate College, she’s the woman in charge. So whatever you do, if you’re feeling anxious or worried or just need a chat: don’t come crying to her.

joined the nunnery for the free accommodation?

she does love a good statue it has to be said

She is the headmistress of a catholic school <3

sister michael so reminds me of the nuns who taught me. they're tough and sometimes a little harsher than a woman who dedicated her life to god should be but they're also wonderful people. i had a nun teacher who was 60 years old and would do handstands. another nun (also in her 60s) told me god was nonbinary. another was really mean and made me cry. (so did the handstand nun.) while the catholic girls school is The Catholic Experience, the school wouldn't have been the same for me or the derry girls without at least one nun who seemed to have sprung up out of the ground fully formed, ageless.

Shadow

In sonic destruction (the AI generated fan thing snapcube made a while ago) shadow was catholic or something which I think is reallyyyyyyy funny

Ok listen. I know this is a stretch but hear me out. He says “oh my God” in the Twitter takeovers so we know this is a possibility. I see him as a Christ-like figure because I saw his whole confrontation with Mephiles and was like “this is a thing that happened in the Bible??” and the pose Mephiles shows him in is literally like a crucifixion and Mephiles is meant to be a demon / false prophet reference. And also he’s called a demon in Shadow The Hedgehog 2005 then the guy who calls him that is like “I was wrong I’m sorry” and that also reminds me of a thing with Jesus in The Bible. But the biggest reason is his whole thing with Maria cause I think he’d come to earth and hear Ave Maria once and convert to Catholicism idk he’s like we’re comforted by a female familial figure named Mary sometimes called Maria?? And her color is blue????? Heck yeah I’m in because I Will Cry. Also feel free to share this as propaganda obv even if he doesn’t get in the bracket just. It’s funny.

I feel like he’d battle a lot with being seen or portrayed as a demon and how the aliens he’s related to very much look and act like demons idk lmao- and also I feel like confession would just be good for him I think he needs it for his mental health

There is a debate on the lovely website tunblr that Shadow T. Hedgehog is an allegory for Jesus Christ.

He is Jesus, idk what to tell you. He lived, he was sealed away, he was awakened again and deemed the ultimate lifeforms, he’s angry but not evil, does what he believes is best for people and the world at any given time. Total loser.

Vote for Shadow the Hedgehog

There seems to be some confusion in the notes. He is Catholic. It may not be explicit, but it can be inferred.

Shadow was created by Professor Gerald Robotnik, and for the early part of his life, lived with Gerald and his granddaughter, Maria Robotnik.

Robotnik is not a made-up name. Google Search results may only bring up pages related to the Robotniks of the Sonic the Hedgehog series, however, it is a rarely used Polish surname. Poland is a historically Catholic nation, and… come on. Maria is the most Catholic name ever. The Robotniks are Catholic. Shadow was created and raised by Catholics.

Now you may be wondering to yourself: Does Catholicism even exist in Sonic? The answer is yes, at least in the Archie comics, where Protestants are explicitly mentioned.

64.media.tumblr.com

Couple this with the fact that several characters, including Shadow, have canonically taken the Lord’s name in vain, it is reasonable to infer that Christianity, and therefore Catholicism, exists.

So… while Shadow’s own religious beliefs may not have been explicitly addressed… at minimum:

Catholic is a cultural designation that Shadow will always be allowed to claim based on the family that made him.

Whether he’d actually want to claim that designation is a different conversation, but the other propaganda does a fine job of explaining why it may be appropriate to headcanon him as a practicing Catholic.

Now that we’ve established that Shadow has as much of a right to be in this tournament as anyone else, there’s one very important reason you should vote for him:

It would be funny if he won.

Thank you.

64.media.tumblr.com

Essays are done!! Here’s some Shadow propaganda because the propaganda we currently have sucks and I need to fix that. While yes, Shadow being Catholic is a meme, there is more to outside of the simple “fandub said so” and its not quite stated its Catholicism but just how he behaves and his actions. There’s a lot of Sonic content so I will try to keep this brief. Gonna get headcanons out of the way.

Shadow is Chilean and so are Maria and Gerald Robotnik because I fucking say so and they’re Catholic. He definitely had un rosario next to his like. Bed or test tube whatever he slept in. So did Maria btw. Alright let’s move on because I am 100% correct.

Let’s start with some background for Shadow. Shadow was created as a cure for a girl called Maria and he grew to care for her as a sister and loved her deeply. He was artificially created but still holds a soul that is similar to Maria’s. Long story short, Maria is killed protecting Shadow who watches as she’s shot in front of him. He has his memories tampered by Maria’s grandfather, Gerald, who manipulates him into carrying out revenge on the Earth, even if Shadow ends up as collateral.

Shadow struggles with frequent identity crises, even before Maria’s death and always wondered what his purpose was, what he was made to do. Was he a weapon? Was he a cure? He’s the Ultimate Lifeform, but what does that truly mean? ? He’s Shadow, but what more is there to him? He doesn’t know what his purpose is other than what others have prescribed to him, and he guides himself through the will of others (something that he breaks through afterwards but not yet). Shadow at his core is self-sacrificing and constantly punishes himself. This is where you can see some of that good old guilt that everyone has been using as propaganda, but we also see someone who is giving and kind.

He is snarky in the game, especially when interacting with Sonic, but he’s having what is essentially an ongoing mental breakdown but keeps moving because it is his duty to his sister. He doesn’t believe himself important enough to continue on after her and sees it in himself to act out on “Maria’s wishes”. After the revelation that Maria’s final wish for Shadow was for him to make those on Earth happy and to protect them, he immediately sacrifices himself to do so.

Okay, that’s a lot and you’re probably asking “Okay, you mentioned he is a giving person and yeah he has guilt, but that’s not really Catholicism” and yes you would be right! So let’s go into the more important part of being Catholic. The charity, the community, the kindness, etc. Shadow is a very reserved person and has the habit of being a dumb teenager because well. Yeah. Anyways, he definitely has a soft spot for those he cares about and while his whole arc (in my opinion) is about finding the freedom of self-autonomy, it is also Shadow growing as a person and deciding not to save people because others have told him he needs to, but because he wants to. It is born from his soul and its his nature to care for people. It is who he is, and he knows it now. He’s not doing it because he’s a hero or because he is told to do so. Shadow is a very giving person and I think people tend to forget about that especially due to bad writing from the past decade or so. He is also stated to help out at food shelters and volunteers a lot. He is proud and a bit prickly, but he cares so deeply about those he loves. He is stronger with his loved ones and will always do his best to protect them. These are minor, yeah, but you don’t need sweeping and enormous acts to get attention for the good deeds you do. Most of what you apply of Catholicism is done at the personal level, between your friends, family, and community.He also goes to Mass whenever he can and if he can’t he goes to the capilla and also does the sign of the cross whenever he runs by a church. Cutting this off because this is already 740-ish words and I had to send these across multiple asks I am so sorry Catholic mod

#cct polls #tumblr tournament #tumblr bracket #tumblr polls #polls #r7 #the derry girls #derry girls #sister michael #sonic the hedgehog #Sonic Destruction #shadow the hedgehog

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iseebeautyinwords · 1 year

Text

dating the ri’s | shuri udaku, riri williams , shuriri

summery : just some shuriri hc’s!

taglist : @pinkwright @inmyheadimobsessed @zayswriting @quintessencewrites comment to be added :)

shuri udaku : ☆

you guys are dating before you even know it

she loves parading you around as her girl

matches with you subtly, like with nails, outfit colors stuff like that

i alr said this but imma say it again SHE BITES

like for no good reason shell wake you up by biting your nose. you kissing and all of the sudden shes biting your lip.

she thinks she’s sooo funny when she annoys you

loves spoiling you and loves being spoiled too

def uses pet names like “my girl” “mama” “pretty girl” “princess”

if she’s on the phone or doing anything she’ll be like “nope im busy, im gonna hang out with my wife”

she has a separate calendar for any special dates you two have

speaking of dates SHE LOVESS stay at home dates where you guys can just enjoy each other

loves being called “panther” “pretty”

she knows shes in trouble when you call her by her last name so everytime you do

“Udaku.” shuri immediately stopped whatever it was she was doing. you only called her by her last name when she was in trouble. she turned around to see you standing at the door of your shared bedroom. you where holding an empty chocolate wrapper and shuri knew she was doomed. “care to explain why this was in your drawer” she knew it was your chocolate, and you did not play with your chocolate. “baby- i can explain. it was griot!” immediately the AI came to its own defence. “panther i can not consume solids, and if i could i would be lactose intolerant” you looked back at her with a look of disbelief “blaming poor griot, do you have no shame udaku? put your shoes on you’re going to get me some more.” she didn’t bother to argue that it was almost midnight”

“happy wife, happy life i guess”

riri williams : ☆ ☆

riri did not waste a second to make you hers

like she was ON IT, “you feelin me right? ight so we locked in”

shes a huge sneaker head to ofcourse she put you on game

loves being pampered even though she tries to put a tough front abt it

riri will let you pick her outfits so you guys can match

lets you do her lashes and play in her hair

This girl is tenderheaded as FUCKK so everytime you do anything she starts wailing like you stabbed her.

calls you “ma” “mami” “pookie” and has you saved on her phone as “baby mama #2” just to piss you off ( theres not even a baby mama #1 )

she got you guys a build a bear toy and acts like its your child, buying fits for it and shoes

“you neglected our CHILD y/n,” “Im sorry i put him in jordans when we are wearing dunks today”

loves when you call her princess, because she deserves TOP princess treatment

made a shirt that says “i <3 my girl” and wears it ALL THE TIME.

“riri williams, get that shirt off your body and put on something proper.” you two where getting ready to go out on a cute little arcade date, and since only one of you is sane and normal, riri took it to herself to wear one of her goofy “i heart bae” shirts with your face plastered on the front. “This is proper ma, i cant show you off?” she draped her arms around your waist. “you wore it last time, niggas are gonna think i’m holding you captive.” she chuckled and gave you a quick peck. “Let them think that then, im happy with my fit. I’ll see you in the car!” she quickly ran out laughing before you could respond. “This girl is gonna be the death of me.”

shuriri : ☆ ☆ ☆

getting these two together is something you often wonder “why do i do this to myselfl

they are just plain EVIL

they love to prank you and tease you everywhere you go

theres not a single dull moment

when shuri’s stealing your food riri is distracting you

and they betray each other too, riri kissing shuri while you grab her phone to spam pictures, or shuri randomly calling riri a pet name while you too are in a heated debate about your shared child so you can run away with the infant in question

they are honestly the cutest, they love spoiling you and pampering you, and you love pampering them alike

they love to cuddle and have you play with their hair

shuri makes fun of riri’s tenderhead

shuri teaches you both xhosa and you guys love it

shuri picks up on you and riri’s lingo sooo quick its too cute

sometimes you catch them staring at you just admiring you

you guys defend griot everytime shuri gets a smart mouth with the AI

you guys are always matching, sometimes on accident

“you guys wanna be like me so bad” you look up from your shoe laces and notice that both you and shuri where matching with riri, all three of you have a soft pink hoodie and black pants on with white forces. “bitch, you wanna be like US, the blueprint.” you retorted as you stood up walking over to your jewelry cabinet to put on some hoops. “You both are insane, you copied me” “actually panther you kn-“ “griot shut up.” shuri scolded the AI and both you and riri glared at her. “You do not talk to griot like that Udaku,” “Yea nigga, griot my son, you watch yo mouth talking to him”

#nix writes #shuri x reader #shuri udaku #riri wiliams x reader #riri williams #shuriri #shuriri x reader #shuri headcanon #riri headcannons

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seokgyuu · 9 months

Note

idk what the other heathens (affectionate) have asked for but i just think it’s neat how serious and cute seokmin gets when he’s kissing you. like he holds your face as he’s kissing you deep and slowly and he’ll mumble in between each one about how he loves you and he’d constantly have eye contact and look between your lips and eyes and i just… really wanna make out with him

- nova (it’s not really a request BUT FOOD FOR THOUGHT hehe)

a/n: well hello there nova <3 this turned out a bit different than what you asked for, but i hope its still fine!! literally just went with the flow of making out with seokmin.. hehe. kinda liked the idea of him being a loser that just happens to be an absolute ace when it comes to making out *giggles*. let me know what you think!

TITLE: sweet, sweeter, seokmin's kisses

PAIRING: Seokmin(DK) x Fem!Reader

GENRE: frat au (just mentioned that they are in a frat lmao)

WARNINGS: mentions of drinking alcohol, loads of kissing, it is suggestive but no smut, still MDNI!

WORDCOUNT: 1.4k

TAGS: @honeykyeom, @onlyseokmins, @playmetheclassics, @the-boy-meets-evil, @dkakapizzaboy my fellow dk ferals <3

Playing Truth or Dare was so Middle School. Not that that stopped anyone from playing it at Jihoon’s birthday party.

You were seated cross legged next to Chan, a beer in your hand that surely had reached room temperature by now. Wonwoo was the one doing a dare for fifteen minutes, still counting. He had been dared to call his first girlfriend and tell her he wanted her back (which was absolutely infuriating and manipulative and horrible, but you were surrounded by a bunch of frat dudes who didn’t know boundaries) and she still hadn’t picked up. Why he kept on trying, you didn’t know. Perhaps he really wanted her back.

“Just leave a message, what the fuck,” you finally breathed out, face in a frown and the circle of dudes all turned to look at you. God damnit, why did their frat have to be the most unpopular on campus and why were you the only one feeling enough pity for them to actually come to their lame ass parties?

“But then we won’t get to see her reaction!” Soonyoung protested, but you groaned and shook your head at him.

“Okay, and? I’m pretty positive she’ll call him back once she sees the thirty missed calls, Soon.”

To that, none of them had a response. Soonyoung exchanged looks with Wonwoo and Seokmin, and finally decided to give in. Sighing in relief, you relaxed against the couch behind you, watching Wonwoo spin the bottle this time. It spun for a good thirteen seconds before it stopped - pointing at Seokmin. He, as confident as always, with a huge grin on his face said: “Dare!”

Maybe you should have seen it coming. The round had been going on for way too long for no one to be dared to kiss you - the only girl at this joke of a party. The thing was, Seokmin wasn’t ugly. More so the opposite. He could have been a campus heartthrob if only he hadn’t decided to join this fraternity. SVT was a sad example of how frats can become unpopular when they get led by the wrong people. And while Seungcheol, the leader since this semester, tried his very best to get their reputation up - it hadn’t worked just yet. So, yeah, Seokmin was handsome and buff and hot and all that. But he was Seokmin. He was silly and goofy and laughed a little too loud and always tried to cheer everyone up even when no one wanted him to. Thinking about it now, it did sound kind of nice of him. Still. Did you want to kiss him? Not really.

“I dare you to kiss Y/N! But not just a peck, like full on kiss kiss her!” Wonwoo grinned and your mouth dropped open.

“What the fuck is kiss kiss supposed to mean?!” You asked, and Wonwoo shrugged

“You’ll figure it out!”

Taking a deep breath, trying your hardest not to once again yell at the man with the round glasses on top of his nose, you finally looked at Seokmin, who’s eyes seemed to be just as wide as humanly possible.

“D-Do you mind?” He stuttered out and because you weren’t a buzz kill, you shook your head and put your cup down, uncrossing your leg and instead crouching over to him.

“Just kiss me and shut up,” you mumbled and Seokmin visibly swallowed, his eyes gazing from your eyes to your lips and then, finally, he leaned forward, pressing his mouth against yours.

At first, you were confused. Because why the hell did his lips feel so soft? Never in your two years of knowing this man had you seen him use chapstick. Seokmin kissed the way he smiled. Warm. And sweet. And somehow better than anyone you had ever kissed. Almost automatically, your eyes fell shut and your hands landed on his cheeks as you slowly sat up, taking him with you. He kissed you deeper then, his hands on the small of your back and when he parted your lips with his own and let his tongue slide into your heat, you almost felt like moaning. It wasn’t necessarily because you were turned on but because he was just so good at this.

“Okay, okay! Damn, get a room!” Chan had thrown his empty solo cup at your head and you had, with a strange sense of sadness in your heart, separated from Seokmin. Or at least your lips separated because your hands were still on his cheeks and his were still on your back. For a few seconds you just stared at each other, blinking away and then you were back on your place on the floor, head buzzing and heart thumping.

What had just happened? Seokmin’s taste still lingered on your lips, on your tongue. It left you breathless, left your stomach doing flips over and over again and your brain yelling at you to kiss him again because, fuck, how long had it been since you’ve kissed someone and liked it? While the game continued, Seokmin now asking Chan a question after the youngest hast picker Truth over Dare. You allowed your eyes to flicker to Seokmin, seeing the red on his cheek and the way his lips were wet and-

“Seokmin, I think you wanted to show me something in your room earlier.”

The words left your mouth before your brain caught up. Chan, who had been in the middle of answering the question you hadn’t even heard, and everyone else in the circle, stared at you. God, you hoped Seokmin got the hint. If he didn’t, this could end up extremely awkward.

Seokmin was also looking at you, eyes back to being big and round and his mouth was hanging open slightly as he seemed to wreck his brain as to when he had said that. But when he saw the look in your eyes, saw the silent pleads, it clicked. His cheeks got even redder.

“O-Oh, yes! Yes, I did. Uhh, I think now is as good as ever to show you! S-sorry guys!”

It was safe to say none of the guys were mad once they caught on what was actually happening (it took them a good five minutes to count one and one together).

You were on top of Seokmin, straddling him, and your arms were locked around his neck while his rested on your back, his lips moving against yours so perfectly it felt like they were two puzzzle pieces designed to fit together. Kissing him was like tasting cotton candy for the first time, like going for a swim on an especially hot summer day. It felt right in all the ways a kiss could. You didn’t even care about the lack of him trying to touch you anywhere else than your back, just happy to feel his lips on yours and to have his tongue occasionally bump against yours. This wasn’t about initiating sex, no, this was something more and still less. Your fingers stroked the back of his head, felt the soft locks and when he giggled against your lips you almost melted.

“I’m ticklish”, he explained then, the red back on his cheeks and you just nodded, kissing him again, hands moving to his face.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you mumbled, pressing your lips together. He wrapped his arms around you fully now, hands on your shoulder, and you felt the safest you ever had in anyone’s arms. This was crazy. This was Seokmin. He wasn’t supposed to make you feel this way. You shoved the thought away. It didn’t matter that he was in a bitchless fraternity. From now on you could be his bitch.

Suddenly, you felt hin smile against your lips and you parted from him even though you didn’t actually want to.

“What’s so funny?” You asked, kissing his cheek. Seokmin chuckled.

“I kind of wanted to kiss you since freshman year.”

“For real?!” Your eyes widened. He nodded.

“Yeah. But when I entered SVT I kind of figured it probably wouldn’t happen.”

“Guess you figured wrong.” The smile on your lips was sincere and you let your hands rest on the sides of his face again. Seokmin smiled warmly, just like he always did.

“I guess so.”

And then he kissed you again, and whenever he stopped to giggle because you tickled him, you could feel yourself fall harder and harder into a Seokmin shaped hole you kind of felt like you couldn’t ever escape again.

#svthub #dk fanfiction #dk x reader #seokmin x reader #seokmin fanfiction #svt au #dk au #dk imagine #svt imagine #dokyeom x reader #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #lee seokmin x reader #lee dokyeom x reader

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myths-tournaments · 6 months

Text

Awful Characters Round 2 Part 1 (2/8)

Propaganda under the cut!

IANTHE TRIDENTARIUS

Her number one hobby is ruining every person's that she knows life. Her second hobby is being soooo slutty about it despite looking like a literal wet rat. Her third hobby is having an extremely unhealthy relationship with her twin. Her other hobbies include cannibalism, wearing a maid outfit, being extremely convinced she is the main character, the badboy sexy love interest and the villain. 'Why', you may ask. Well, the answer is, for shits and giggles #justgirlythings i, aswell as literally everybody else in the fandom have gone through the pipeline from hating her to desperately wanting to fuck her. expect for i still fucking hope she dies and doesn't come back for good. (that would literally solve all of everybody's problems) as god intended (EXPECT FOR. one of her hobbies literally is gaslighting god) She is fucking horrible i will love her until i die and even after that

parks and recs jean ralphio voice she's the woooorst!! The moment she learns she has to kill someone to become a Lyctor (aka a more special necromancer), she doesn't hesitate to kill and cannibalize the guy who has been her cavalier since childhood… cavalier who she also totally bullied as kids, she was allowed to choose one guest for her and her twin sister's birthday party each year, and she would always pick whoever she thought her cavalier didn't want to see there! While other characters are shown to regret the process of becoming a Lyctor (which involves someone close to them dying)/were forced into it because of circumstances, Ianthe has absolutely no regrets, she believes she did what she had to do

The author once said of Ianthe: "I don't think she's been nice to anyone, if she has I'll go back and change it." She killed and ate the soul of someone she has known all her life so that she could become a necromantic saint and tormented him plenty before that. General negging, ganging up against him, always inviting people he didn't like to their birthday parties. She doesn't regret killing him. I think she is repulsed by the idea that his digested soul is affecting hers. She helped her crush lobotomise herself so she would be in Ianthe's debt, and later lied and said she didn't see the corpse of a woman her crush killed under her bed (why did she do that? I do not know). She has a bone arm because her original arm was cut off, she hated the replacement so her crush cut THAT off and grew her a new one out of just bones. She had it gilded and only after that did she decide to help her crush deal with the person who had been repeatedly trying to kill her. She wants so badly to be the main character but people keep interrupting her villain monologues.

she has her own content warning tag

She's such a bitch to everyone all the time, she causes nothing but problems, she tries to do a villain speech but fumbles it because her tummy hurt, she is the awfulgirl of all time

THE SKULL

he is an evil ghost who used to be an assistant to a mad scientist gravedigger. accomplice to murder and torture and general evil scheming. now he lives in a jar and is besties with a teenage girl. and by besties i mean he encourages her to kill people and constantly cheers when her friends almost die. overall a silly little decapitated head <3

It is literally a skull in a jar. (More context if you don’t know the books/show: it’s a ghost source that’s been trapped in a silver container so it can’t escape. And it’s exceptionally powerful which means it can actually communicate with mc.) It frequently encourages the mc to commit various morally reprehensible acts such as homicide (she never does). When it was alive, it was a teenage boy who was apprenticed to an evil scientist.

#awful characters tournament #tournament poll #awful characters round 2 #the locked tomb #tlt #ianthe tridentarius #lockwood and co #the skull

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akisunlovesnalu · 2 months

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Every Witch Way

A fic that I wrote inspired by this photo. Originally I wanted it to become a detective fic but my brain spiraled and I ended up with this. It became an adventure mystery story and of course, the government hates them :) I liked the idea of them traveling through the desert and I'm not too sure where the guild fit in this but just know that all Magicians (Witches) are in hiding because society believes they are evil. Most normal people do not have magic so someone spread a theory that the only reason witches have magic is because of human sacrifices etc. It's important to note that witches want to keep their powers under wraps or else they will get reported to the authorities and sent to the hier-ups in the capital. Nobody knows what happens to the witches who are caught but they don't want to find out.

That might be some unnecessary background information so skip over that if you wish and enjoy!

When Lucy finds herself kidnapped by a ruthless group of bandits, the last thing she expects is to be saved by a witch with Pink hair and his talking blue cat. And she most certainly didn't expect to become their good friend and travel companion. Who knew evil sorcerers and government conspiracies can lead to unexpected friendships.

As the blond girl dragged herself, hands tied together in front of her, and sand covered bare feet weakly trailing after her, she realized how fast camels might actually be. You see, in all of the stories she had read so far, none of them did the four legged beast's speed any justice. They never quite described how hard it was to keep up with them. It was always “The creature was big” or “The creature was furry” but never “When kidnapped by a group of bandits, tied to and forced to stumble behind a literal camel, it may be hard to keep up.”

See if any of the books had written that in, maybe Lucy Hearfillia might be faring better in her situation. But alas, she was not.

“Stop lagging behind, blondie!” One of the men snarled, pulling on the rope to further demonstrate his annoyance. Lucy stumbled forward, struggling to stay upright. She hung her head low, very aware of the menacingly bright sun and quietly sighed.

Oh what she would do to somehow get out of this unfortunate turn of events.

She has probably been traveling together with these no good thieves for about 3 hours. After being abducted from the only good town in this godforsaken desert, the men forced her to follow them, ignoring her cries of where she was and demands to let her go. She gave up eventually of course. Not even her vocal cords could handle the immense heat that came with the dry deserted area.

“Hey boss.” The big one said, glancing over at her with furrowed brows. He had been the one to capture her in the first place. Of course Lucy could have easily taken him on but… a moment's hesitation was all they needed to successfully tie her up and steal her ring of keys. Aquarius was going to kill her!

“Not that I really want to, but... Should we give the chick some water?”

The man in front of the big one grunted, his blueish hair blowing with the small breeze and clearly showing off his strange X-like tattoo. Lucy watched on with little interest as a bead of sweat traveled down his forehead.

“I wouldn’t bother.” He scoffed. “Every time we’ve tried, she just spits it back up. Plus, earlier she tried to bite off Javier’s finger, do you really want to risk it?” He raised an eyebrow.

The man in question made a whining noise, clutching his injured hand to his chest and glaring at their prisoner with watery eyes. He mockingly raised the water bottle to his mouth, chugging it in an attempt to get a rise out of her. Lucy rolled her eyes, instead looking back down at the smooth sand beneath her feet.

The big one made a noise of understanding. “Even after we lied about it not being drugged too-”

Javier spit up the water that he was previously chugging, shakily putting the top back on and storing it back inside of the camel's holding bag.

“You idiot!” ‘Boss’ hissed, turning a piercing glare unto the man beside him. “She still didn’t know-” He paused, glancing over at their very interested prisoner and forced himself to take a deep breath. “You know what, it doesn't matter, she'll be fine.”

“But, Bora-”

“She’ll be fine!” The man who Lucy now knew as Bora raised a fist threateningly. He smirked in sick pleasure as his henchmen coward away. Before she even had time to pull a face of disgust, he turned to Lucy, eyeing her hungrily. “Now, let's get a move on. The employer is expecting us by sundown and I'd rather not have the sun beating down on me any longer than necessary.”

The rest of his men tiredly murmured in agreement, picking up the pace and forcing the blond girl to — once again —trudge through the slippery sand. She hissed as her feet pricked on some sort of stick-like plant. Oh Mavis if she could just reach into the pouch hanging off of Bora’s belt-

“I don’t see the issue, it’s not even that hot.” A new voice said, startling the crew of 14 bandits plus Lucy herself. Her head snapped up for the first time in a while. Ignoring the ache in her neck, the girl rapidly searched the area until settling upon a man with… pink hair.

He didn’t look too shocked to see a kidnapped girl tied to a Camel. Nor did he bat an eye at the blue cat that sat on his head, lazily playing with the goggles that held his hair out of his face (Did she mention that it was pink!?). And his attire looked so incredibly… bold that Lucy was sure she would faint. Seriously, who was stupid enough to travel through the desert in a black long sleeve shirt, a tan vest and a literal scarf. It was like the guy was begging to get a heat stroke.

She had immediately decided that whoever this man was, he was insane.

“Now.” He grinned, getting into a fighting stance. “What was it you said about an employer?”

Oh look now he wanted to fight off an entire group of bandits. Lucy scoffed. Definitely insane.

Where did he even come from?

Bora snarled, holding up a hand and signaling his guys to pounce on the man wearing freaking cargo pants. Once again, the pink haired freak didn’t even flinch. He stayed rooted to his spot, grinning a wide smile and daring one of them to come at him.

They did, of course, and to Lucy’s surprise were blasted back by a large ring of—

“Fire!”

Well that certainly explains a lot.

Even after that big scare, the men were back on “Mr. cargo pants” as soon as Bora sent each and every one of them a snarl. The blond snorted as soon enough, all 14 men were on the floor, some of them even halfway in the sand and halfway not.

Bora’s horrified face soon turned back into a scowl as he fully processed Lucy’s teasing. He jumped off of the Camel, ignoring a curious looking “Mr. cargo pants” and stomping over to her.

“Something Funny?” He said.

“Yeah, actually.” She chuckled some more, tugging on the rope in silent frustration. “Looks like you're about to get your ass handed to you.”

Bora growled, raising his hand in an attempt to threaten her. Lucy eye’d it wearily, but made no attempt to move out of its path. To her pleasure that seemed to aggravate the man even more.

“I’ll show you!” He cried and Lucy's breath hitched as he brought his hand down to strike her across the face…

The sound of skin hitting skin somehow echoed throughout the desert and Lucy was sure her face was stinging a bright red…

Except it wasn’t… to be honest she felt no pain. Almost as if she hadn’t been hit at all… Cracking her eyes open she realized that a figure stood in front of her, effectively blocking both the sun and her view of Bora. At this, the girl was finally able to piece together what happened.

Bora had aimed for her face, only for his wrist to be caught by “Mr. cargo pants” himself.

What an interesting turn of events indeed.

Lucy was quite surprised by how calm she was in this type of situation. No other girl would be able to keep a straight face as they were surrounded in an alleyway, tied up, and forced onto a camel, only to be saved by a strange man (who was definitely insane) that kicked ass and breathed fire. Though if anything she’d have to blame it on experience.

The silence was interrupted by a snarl, one almost inhuman. Bora shrieked, snatching his hand away and forcibly putting a distance between him and this insane man.

“H-how dare you!” Bora shrieked, reaching into his belt and pulling out a knife. Lucy’s eyes flashed onto the leather pouch before giving the man a hard glare.

“You’re one of those demons aren't you!” His voice shook but was filled with so much venom. “The horrible bastards that turn to rituals and blood sacrifices in favor of magical powers!?”

Mr. Cargo pants made no attempt to move, only stared Bora straight in the eyes with an unreadable expression.

“So what if I am?” He answered.

Lucy felt her lips turn into a frown.

“Then you’re worse than me!” The man laughed maniacally, waving his knife around as he spoke. “Why bother saving this chick with magic earned by bloodlust? Wait…” He gasped dramatically looking at Lucy and then back at Mr. Cargo pants.

“Oh…” he cackled this time, using a shaky hand to clutch his side. “You probably need her right? For another sacrifice?”

As he continued with his dumb speach Lucy felt her patience slipping. She bit her lip, tugging on the rope once again with no success. She growled, now desperate enough to be pulling against the weight of a freaking Camel.

“Let’s make a deal, hm?” Bora held the knife to his mouth in thought. “I’ll let you take her for just a bit of cash. I’m sure you and your demon friends would love such delicate, pure hearted prey right? Blah Blah Blah Blah-”

Lucy tuned him out and her pink-haired savior still made no move to attack, only balling his fists and taking deep breaths. She understood… the need to prove him wrong… to just shut him up! Which was what she was planning on doing! As soon as she got rid of this stupid rope-

Her savior lunged, slapping the knife out of the bandit's hand and catching him by the neck so quickly that Lucy had to blink, just to make sure she had actually witnessed that.

Bora struggled against his grip, clawing at his arm as he gasped for breath. “Y-you…” He coughed. “You monster!”

The pink haired boy dropped him, cracking his knuckles as Bora attempted to crawl away.

“Hit me with your best shot!” He screeched. “Monster!”

And that’s when Lucy’s attention was directed towards a flying blue blob. It took her a minute to realize that the blue blob was the cat previously perched atop her savior's head. She couldn’t help the small shriek that erupted from her throat as the cat landed directly in front of her, a look of pride overtaking its face.

“Hold on!” It cried, using its claws to slowly cut away at the thick rope. Lucy stood stock still, mouth wide as she watched a cat! a talking cat, free her from her ‘Camel Prison’...

This day just kept getting weirder and weirder.

She felt the rope loosen up and took that moment to slip her hands free.

She rubbed her wrists, absentmindedly thanking the (blue, flying, taking-) cat and zoning back in on the fight. Well… what she thought would be a fight. Instead, Lucy saw Mr. Cargo Pants kneeling by a tied up and unconscious Bora, checking his pulse with a bored look in his eyes.

The girl wanted to laugh at how quickly that ‘battle’ had ended. In fact, she did laugh! How could she not? Here was Bora, big bandit leader with unquestionable power over his 14 lakey’s, beaten black and blue after a fight that had barely even lasted a minute.

Pathetic.

Lucy was almost ashamed to have put her morals over her own safety. Taking on this guy would have been a sinch, the rest would have probably run away with their tails between their legs.

The girl released a breath, finally finished with her laughing fit. She wiped a tear from beneath her eye, grinning wide at her two saviors.

“You’ve got guts!” The cat… the blue, flying, talking cat.. Spoke. It spoke… Lucy felt her face twist in confusion.

“Thank you…?”

Mr. Cargo pants finished tying up the rest of the men and strode over to them, his arms crossed over his chest as he gave her a somewhat proud look. “Happy’s right y’know. I’ve never seen another girl in your situation stand up to their captor…” He paused before quietly adding. “Well maybe Erza but I doubt she’d get captured in the first place…”

“Happy’s?” Lucy questioned, raising her brow. “What do you mean?”

“That’s Happy.” He stated matter factly, pointing over to the flying cat- Holy Mavis, this would take some getting used to. It waved. Lucy numbly waved back.

Mr. Cargo Pants held out his hand in greeting. “And I’m Natsu!” Oh well that’s good, he’s got a name. Mr. Cargo Pants was starting to seem a bit bland based on his earlier performance. Maybe she’d just call him Fire Freak, pyromaniac for short?

“Hey Natsu.” The girl smiled kindly, getting over her initial shock and shaking his hand. He held onto her hand for longer than necessary, his grip strong. The pink-haired traveler held her gaze, dark onyx eyes practically burning into her soul. His calloused hand gave her own one last squeeze before he let go, looking around as if nothing just happened.

“What're you doing this far out in the desert anyways?”

Lucy blinked, her brain taking a minute to compute after his strange display of… comradery? “I was… Traveling.” She admitted.

“With them?” Natsu and Happy blinked, looking back at the pile of motionless body’s. Finally the boy turned back to her, shaking his head and clicking his teeth. “Man, you need to get yourself some better travel companions.”

“N-no!” She barked. “I was kidnapped while traveling! Are you an idiot!”

“Well why didn’t you just say so?”

Lucy ground her teeth in frustration. One more word out of this man’s mouth and she’d be wanted for murder. She rolled her eyes. What a scatter brain.

“Well, thank you for saving me.” She settled with, surveying the litter of body’s decorating the wide desert floor. “Can I ask you to direct me towards the closest town?”

Natsu nodded his head, pointing in a direction. “We’re actually headed to one right now. Care to join?”

“... Sure!” Lucy agreed after a bit of hesitation. She turned around and untied her very important pouch from her precious Camel Captor.

“Thanks for keeping these safe, I guess.” She said to it. The camel snorted out a noise of disinterest as Lucy stroked it’s neck.

Natsu let out a snort, turning away and whistling casually as Lucy sent him a hard glare. She may have been forcefully tied to and painfully dragged across the desert by this Camel, but still, she felt a sense of comradery between them. She was going to miss him…

As Lucy turned to leave, the camel let out a large glob of spit, barely missing her head. The girl shrieked and ran to catch up to a curious Natsu.

She takes it back. That damn animal won't be missed. Not one bit.

#fairytail natsu #fairy tail #lucy fairy tail #fairy tail happy #nalu #nalufanfic #fairy tail official art #fairy tail fanfiction #lucy heartifilla #natsu dragneel #natsu x lucy #fairy tail au

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