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charliemwrites · 24 days ago

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Hiiiii! So I’m not super thrilled with this but I’ve been having a time of it at work so I worked on this when I could 🙃

Not sure if there will be a second part yet tbh we’ll see!

Edit: almost forgot to add that the gorgeous divider below is by @gildui they have some absolutely beautiful cod themed dividers.

Carrion

Reader comes back Wrong

Content: implied/referenced torture, injury, suicide reference/implicated “pact” (by background character), lack of wound care

The breakup was bad.

Not in the top 3 of Simon’s worst nightmare-inducing memories - but likely top 5. He certainly wakes up chest aching and eyes burning often enough for it to be a solid contender. He’s haunted by tears that dripped like acid and the cracks in your voice deafening him.

On bad days, he thinks he can still see you shuffling down the halls, eyes sunken and red-rimmed, dark circles and chapped lips. Anger giving way to resignation giving way to pain and sadness. The rest of the team tight-lipped and wincing, no sides taken, shoulders and ears offered equally in commiseration.

Your misery wanted no company, though.

You didn’t tell Simon that you were leaving. Gaz let slip over a subdued but obligatory game of cards, you’d be gone for a long time - loaned out to Laswell.

Simon didn’t go to see you off. Didn’t ask why you were leaving or accuse you of being too immature to be on a team with him. He didn’t wish you good luck, stay safe with the rest of the team on the tarmac at 0-dark when you took off.

He should have.

Price says you’ll be gone for six months. Just six. It’s better this way, he reminds them when Johnny balks. His eyes are on Simon, though, when he adds that you need to get your head on straight, and you weren’t able to do it with them.

So. Six months.

Simon stops expecting you on his left. Stops smelling your shampoo lingering on bits of clothes he pretended not to notice you steal. He still dreams about you begging him not to push you away.

183 days come and go.

On day 184, Laswell sends word - your temporary team likes you quite a bit. They want you to stay on for one more month… one more mission… one more…

Six months turns to ten.

312 days since you left; since you were home.

The team hasn’t stopped leaving a space for you at their tables, right between Gaz and Price. You miss your own birthday. Laswell says she’ll pass along well wishes.

The situation changes. A target resurfaces. All hands on deck, including yours.

374 days. Twelve months and some change.

They don’t spend the holidays with you, but there’s a stack of presents waiting in Price’s office. Your mugs have collected dust in the back of the rec room cabinet.

Laswell says you’re still deployed on one last mission, return TBD. Soon, though.

487 days. Still TBD. Soon. Really. Just some loose ends to tie up.

561 days. There was some trouble during exfil but you’re alright. Just a bit of recovery.

You’re coming home.

590 days. You’ll land at 0700 tomorrow.

It’s been 591 days since Simon last saw you. Since any of them last saw you.

Laswell has come to deliver you personally, a kind of apology for keeping you away so long. She’s the first off the transport and you’re right behind her.

Your hair is shorter. Much, much shorter. There’s a new patch on your jacket - memento from your temporary team, Simon figures.

Apart from that, you look… almost exactly how you did when you left. Dark circles under your eyes, mouth drawn and tight. There’s invisible weight compressing your shoulders, urging them in and down. But you’re there again. Just the way he remembers.

(Why are you the way he remembers?)

“Long time, no see,” Gaz calls, reaching for you.

There’s half a beat, you blink. Hesitate.

Then you grin and reach back.

“Missed my pretty face, did you?” you reply.

Johnny laughs and brings you in for a hug. You twitch hug him back, patting his shoulder as you pull away.

“Good to have you back, Sergeant,” Price says, shaking your hand.

You turn to Simon, nod in greeting, expression pleasant. “Ghost.”

So that’s how it’ll be? Alright.

“Sergeant.”

That night, you go out for drinks with the team and Laswell. Simon goes along to show there are no hard feelings.

(Not that you seem to need reassurance. It’s not even that you’re not looking at him. You are. Whenever he speaks, the rare times he does, or if he shifts in his seat. Your gaze doesn’t linger or jerk away, you treat him like you do Johnny and Gaz and Price.)

When Johnny mixes up your usual for Price’s, you don’t even seem to notice. But Simon does.

“When did you start drinking whiskey?” he wonders.

You used to swear you’d never like it, claiming it tasted like boot polish and the “Boys Club” wasn’t worth the indigestion it gave you.

“Someone from my other team,” you say by way of explanation.

You don’t ask for another whiskey. Laswell gets the rest of your drinks for that night.

Simon turns into the rec room two days later and finds you already there. There’s only the light above the sink on, and you’re staring at the steady drip, drip, drip from the faucet. A cup of black coffee cools in your hand. You’re already wearing gloves.

“Sugar’s in the left now,” he calls.

Your head twitches, something pops in your neck.

“Oh, thanks,” you chirp, turning for the cabinet. “Sleep okay, LT?”

“‘Bout as well as I ever do,” he replies gruffly, sidling up next to you for the kettle.

You hum. There’s a yellow packet in your hand. (Didn’t you used to like the blue one?)

“I get that,” you sympathize.

He snorts. Since when?

“Do you?”

When he glances down, you’re not looking at him. Instead, you’re trying (and failing) to get the sink to stop dripping.

“You know that’s been broken for ages,” he says.

At least as long as the 141 has been around. You tried to fix it once when you first joined up, too, with no luck.

“Right,” you say. A little too quickly, a little too agreeably. “Well, anyway, enjoy your tea, Lieutenant.”

You leave the packet of sugar behind. Unopened.

You’re back and it’s like it used to be - not just before you left, but before the breakup. Before there was ever anything to break up.

Your time away seems to have given you whatever space from Simon you were hoping for, because you act like there was never anything at all.

He’s half expecting, dreading, that you’ll pull him aside at some point. Ask for a word after dinner, or swing by his room before bed. Talk about the break up now that cooler heads prevail and 19 months have sanded down the rough feelings. Seek closure, maybe.

But you don’t. The weeks pass until a month has gone and you never exchange more than easy pleasantries with Simon. You give him space, give him privacy. Things you never used to give him much of before, for better or worse.

You fool around with Gaz and Johnny, trade quips with Price, and follow Simon’s orders. Train recruits. Write reports.

You’re back, better than ever.

So why does it feel like Simon’s still waiting for you to return?

You’re always dressed now, head to toe. Day or night, rain or shine. From the neck down you’re in full sleeves, long pants, boots and gloves.

It doesn’t occur to anyone until you’re sweating through your compression shirt in the gym. Wipe your shiny forehead for the dozenth time before Johnny says, “why not just take it off?”

“It’s not that bad,” you laugh, waving him off.

When you lie down to bench press, Simon notes the bottom of your shirt tucked tight into your waistband. He exchanges a glance with Johnny - he’s seen it too.

You used to dress in shorts and sports bras during exercise, a towel over your shoulder. In the common room, you’d mill in tank-tops and boxers. Even used to trot down the hall swaddled in a towel or robe, mumbling that you forgot a razor or some other toiletry before showering.

“What, did ye get an embarrassing tattoo or somethin’?” Johnny asks finally.

You blink at him, expression bemused. “A tattoo? Why do you think I have a tattoo?”

“Yer covered up like a nun on Sunday. It cannae be comfortable.”

You snort. “Just because you’re allergic to clothes, MacTavish…”

“Allergic?! Wha’s tha’ s’posed t’mean?!”

Gaz barks a laugh. You grin and continue your workout.

Simon tries not to be disturbed by the name “MacTavish” coming off your tongue for the first time since you met.

It’s your first mission since you’ve been back. You have new gear, a new handgun. Something’s been carved into the side of the barrel in Cyrillic, Simon can’t read it. A new callsign.

(“What kind of a name is Carry-on?” Johnny teases, but he doesn’t quite hide the unease in his eyes.

You snort and lace your boots tighter. The edge of you sleeve inches up, revealing the curve of a glossy scar that wasn’t there before.

“You’re one to talk Mister Maybelline.”)

Someone painted an upside down cross on the temple of your helmet with their finger. You thumb it before stuffing it over your head.

“You ready for this?” Gaz asks, knocking his knee into yours. The two of you have been paired together for this mission. (Was it Simon’s imagination, or did you look annoyed that you would have a partner?)

“Always,” you reply.

Simon doesn’t hear what happens, but Gaz looks shellshocked when you haul him into the helicopter during exfil. You shake him a bit once everything is secure and the bird’s in the air.

“Garrick,” you shout, “c’mon, where did he get you?”

It takes him a second but he blinks, offers his arm for your inspection. You move with a speed even Simon is impressed by, tearing into the nearby med kit almost viciously. Gaz is patched up in record time and you sit back with blood on your hands, barely even seem to notice as you wipe them carelessly on your pants.

(You used to be more squeamish, weren’t you? You used to be the last one they asked for medical care because seeing your teammates in pain made you nauseous.)

“What about you?” Gaz asks after a small eternity.

You yawn. “What about me?”

“You got nicked too, didn’t you?”

Simon takes a second look at you and now that Gaz mentions it, you’re soaked in blood. Wet patches on your vest, your pants, dripping down your boots. It takes him a moment to notice the tear in your thigh, shredded flesh visible when you rock with the wind turbulence.

“Did I?” you wonder, glancing down like you only just noticed it.

Johnny curses, reaches for you - but you wave him off.

“It’s just a scratch,” you reply. “Barely even feel it, no worries.”

Then why is it still bleeding?

When the team lands, you hop off the heli without so much as a wince. Droplets of blood lead all the way back to your room.

(When Simon asks Nikolai about the hand-etching on your gun, he says the word means “promise.”)

In the after-action report, your callsign isn’t “Carry-On.” It’s Carrion.

Laswell takes you off the mission two months later, a joint assignment with KorTac. They send three operators to work with TF141 - Stiletto, Konig, and Nikto.

On the transport to infil, Simon notices the Russian inspecting his handgun in a seat separated from the rest of the squad. He recognizes the Cyrillic carved into the barrel this time: Promise.

It’s an eerie, creeping suspicion. An anxious fog rolling in.

It’s not one single thing that trips an alarm in Simon’s head, but a steady collation of oddities over months. A single arhythmic beat, a note off key. Just once or twice, but over and over until he can’t notice anything else.

You act just like yourself except for all the minute ways you don’t.

You smile big and wide, sunshine bright, when they make a good joke. Your laugh is still the same, bubbling up in your throat, head thrown back. You smell the same when you pass Simon in the hall, shampoo and soap that’s haunted him for a year and a half.

It’s insidiously subtle; he can’t pinpoint what it is for the longest time. Your mannerisms are almost too practiced, the cadence of your voice too measured. A missing turn of phrase you often used, replaced by something unfamiliar.

Simon dismisses it as guilt-laden paranoia. The two of you ended on bad terms with a year and half worth of space between. He’s hardly one to gauge what’s normal for you anymore.

And besides, the few times someone else has noticed at those tiny yet all-too-obvious inconsistencies, you shrug it off as something you picked up while away.

But he catches Johnny’s brows furrow one afternoon as you light up a cig (after swearing for years that you’d never pick up the habit) and Simon knows he’s beginning to see it too.

“You ever notice,” Gaz begins slowly. You’re the only one missing from the rec room this evening, retired with a drawn-out yawn. “That Carrion always mentions being away, but never talks about it?”

Simon stills. Johnny’s eyes fly to Price, who’s grimly tapping at his crossword puzzle.

“The file’s redacted,” he says. He’s seen it too then, tried to investigate for himself.

“That’s normal for a mission like that,” Simon reasons carefully.

“I don’t mean the mission,” Price says. “I mean Carrion’s file.”

“This is a good movie,” you mumble from the armchair you’ve stolen from Price. “What’s it called?”

Simon exchanges glances with the rest of the team. No one points out that this is (used to be?) your favorite.

Price looks into the team you were loaned out to. All were KIA or remain MIA. All but one. His file has been scrubbed too, the only documents readable are discharge orders and a PMC contract, both associated with the callsign “Nikto.”

They’re running out of time.

Less than 36 hours on the clock with only one lead, and it’s a zealot with a suicide pact. Price and Laswell both took a crack at him with nothing to show for it. Even Ghost has gotten hardly anything and he’s running out of nails. With time, he might get something useful, but they don’t have much of that left.

In the anteroom looking into interrogation, you’ve been observing through the one-way glass with your hands in your pockets, head tilted, expression serene.

Price and Laswell are discussing strategy, contingencies. Gaz and Johnny are throwing in their two cents, but Simon… Simon is watching you.

Like medical, torture used to be your Achilles. You were trained like the rest of the team, but there was never any need for you to step into the room yourself. Hell, you were a last resort even for observation or emergency resuscitation. No one blamed you for having a weak stomach for information extraction.

But today, you glance over your shoulder and make eye contact with Laswell.

“I’ll handle it,” you say with an air of finality.

The room goes silent. Price opens his mouth, but it’s Laswell that speaks, voice hard with resignation.

“Do it.”

You don’t blink. “Yes, ma’am.”

You walk out the door without a backwards glance, shoulders loose but each step steady and purposeful.

“What the hell is going on, Kate?” Price demands.

Kate sighs, looks away as you enter the interrogation room.

“Let’s do this outside. It won’t take long to get that intel.”

The only thing she’s able to share is that you and your team were captured. For a long time. And then you’re already stepping out of the interrogation room, wiping your bloodied hands off on an old rag.

There’s an unusual glint in your eye, an unnatural stillness in your expression.

“Got what we need,” you announce cheerfully.

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #angst #reader came back Wrong #simon riley

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harknessxo · 1 month ago

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HIIIII LIIIIIIZ!!! just popping in to send some love and hugs and a request (bc I watched Agatha series) Agatha x reader where Agatha is the most trusted person in reader’s life but -without Reader’s knowing- is also reader’s crazy stalker

I hope you’re doing well sweetie!!!!

Paring: Serial-killer!Stalker!Agatha Harkness x reader

Summary: Unbeknownst to you, you had the pleasure of being Agatha’s next victim but she takes a liking to you.

Warnings; bit of angst, death (not the reader), kidnapping, stalking.

Word Count: 3.3k

Part 2, Part 3

A/n: I know the request was for stalker!Agatha BUT it’s spooky season so I made her a serial killer too. Also, three key factors inspired this number one being the fanfic Way Down We Go by @p-taryn-dactyl , number two being the series Killing Eve, and lastly the song The Diner.

Agatha had been on a killing spree for the past three months. She would go after the women that looked like someone from her past that did her wrong. Why you may ask? Because she was still seething in her own self hatred for allowing herself to trust and needed someone, or someones, to take it out on. Of course the police had been trying to catch her but she never left enough clues or evidence behind for them to tie anything to.

All the crime scenes looked the same. The person was murder by a slit throat left with a purple Agatha Christie stuffed in their mouth and the scene was cleaned out, leaving no trace of any DNA. They called her the Angel of Death. All they knew was that all the victims seemed to have the same features and that Agatha would stalk them before she killed them.

Unbeknownst to you, you had the pleasure of being Agatha’s next victim. You fit the description of the person that did her wrong and like all her other casualties, she started stalking you. Details from where you worked to what type of coffee you drank. She did all of this to find the perfect moment to strike but this time it was different. For some odd reason she felt drawn to you.

She had been watching you from afar for weeks now. She knew your work schedule, your favorite coffee shop, and even what type of movies you liked to watch. It was strange to her, she had never felt this way before about any of her other victims. She was drawn to you in a way that she couldn’t explain. She wanted to get closer to you, but she knew that she couldn’t. Not yet anyway.

It was recently that you started to feel watched, like there was always someone looming over you but when you turned around there was no one there. You thought you were just paranoid, that your anxiety was getting the best of you but things in your house started to disappear.

Agatha would sneak into your house at night, taking small things here and there. She wanted to learn more about you, but she didn’t want to risk being seen. She was being careful not to leave any trace of herself behind. She knew that the more she took, the more likely you would notice, but she couldn’t help herself. There was something about you that she just couldn’t resist.

You truly started to get scared when your underwear started going missing as well. You told your best friend Wanda about it and she comforted you. She told you to talk to the police and you did but they told you you didn’t have enough evidence and that maybe you had simply misplaced your things. You felt terrified and then came the day you actually met Agatha.

She applied for a job at the same place you worked, hoping to get closer to you. She said her name was Agnes to avoid raising any suspicion. She was excited to be working in the same place as you, but she had to keep her cool and act like she didn’t know anything about you. She kept her distance, wanting you to be the one who approached her and it finally happened when you accidentally bumped into her in the lounge room.

Agatha had been in the lounge, pretending to be on her phone purposely getting in your way so you bumped into her. She stumbled a bit, pretending to be surprised by the collision.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t see where I was going!” You started to apologize immediately.

“It’s alright, dear, no harm done.” She said, looking you up and down. You were even more interesting up close.

“I have never seen you before, are you new?” You asked curiously after taking a look at her. Agatha nodded, maintaining her friendly demeanor.

“I started a few days ago, yes.” She replied with a smile. “My name’s Agnes. What’s yours?”

“I’m Y/n.” You shook her hand. She smiled as you shook her hand, her grip a little tighter than necessary. She had finally gotten to meet you, and she was trying to hide her excitement.

“Y/n, what a lovely name,” she said, still holding your hand, “I have a feeling we’re going to be good friends.”

“I- thank you,” you blushed at the compliment, “well I have to get back to work, I’ll see you around!” She nodded, watching you walk away. She knew she had to be careful not to let her true intentions show, but it was getting harder and harder to resist, she knew you were meant to be.

“See you around.” She said quietly. She couldn’t help but watch you walk away, admiring your figure. She wanted to reach out and grab you, to pull you back and keep you close to her. But she knew she had to be patient. She had a plan, and she was determined to see it through. She made a mental note to keep a closer eye on you, and to continue her little “games” with your belongings.

Over the passing weeks Agatha’s obsession over you only grew. She stalked you almost constantly and when she wasn’t doing that, she was out killing. As Agatha began getting closer to you, gaining your trust, there was someone getting in her way, Wanda.

Agatha had been so focused on you that she hadn’t noticed Wanda’s presence. Wanda had been watching Agatha from afar, sensing something was off about her. She knew that Agatha was up to something, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Wanda had tried to approach you, to warn you about her, but Agatha had always managed to intercept her.

You didn’t understand why Wanda was so against Agnes. Agnes was always sweet to you and helped you out with everything. At some point you started telling her everything about the things that had been happening to you, that of course being her. She would listen intently as you told her about the things that had been happening to you. She would nod and act sympathetic, even though she was the one behind it all. She would offer advice and try to comfort you, all while secretly enjoying your trust in her.

She was a master manipulator. She knew exactly what to say and do to keep you under her spell. She would listen to your worries and fears, offering you comfort and support. She would pretend to be concerned about the things that were happening to you, all the while secretly relishing in your fear and vulnerability. She knew that she had you wrapped around her finger, and she was loving every minute of it.

“That’s really strange. I really hope it’s not a stalker or anything.” She said with fake sympathy.

“I’m starting to get scared, Agnes. What if I’m being stalked by that serial killer that’s been all over the news?” Agatha tried to suppress a smirk, but she couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride at the fact that you were scared of her.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure it’s nothing. You’re perfectly safe.” She said, placing a hand over yours in a comforting gesture.

“I hope you’re right. I was actually thinking of staying with Wanda tonight. She’s been worried about me.” Agatha’s eyes narrowed slightly at the mention of Wanda’s name. She didn’t like the idea of you staying with her. She wanted you to rely on her, not Wanda. She forced a smile onto her face, trying to hide her jealousy.

“Wanda, huh? You sure that’s a good idea? You don’t want to be a burden to her.”

“Oh no she wouldn’t mind. I’ve stayed with her countless times plus it was her idea.” Her grip on your hand tightened even more. She was getting annoyed now. She didn’t like the idea of you staying with someone else, especially Wanda. She forced herself to relax, not wanting to raise any suspicion.

“Just for one night?”

“Yeah, I just need a quick break from all this craziness.” Agatha nodded, her expression unreadable. She didn’t want to push the issue any further, but she couldn’t help but feel anger and frustration. She didn’t like the idea of you being away from her, even if it was just for a night.

“Are you alright, Agnes?” You asked, sensing the sudden change in mood. She snapped out of her thoughts and looked at you with a forced smile.

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Just a little tired, that’s all.” She said, trying to sound casual. She let go of your hand and straightened up, “I must get back to work. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Of course. See you tomorrow!”

She gave you one last look before walking away. She couldn’t believe you were going to stay with Wanda. She clenched her fists in anger, trying to control her emotions. She knew she had to find a way to keep you close to her, and she would do whatever it takes even if it meant hurting you slightly.

After much thinking, a plan was made in her mind. She was going to follow you to Wanda’s house so she would know where she lived and after that all she had to do was wait for you to leave the next day so she could kill Wanda.

She waited until you left work before following you to Wanda’s house. She made sure to keep a safe distance, not wanting to be seen. She watched as you entered the house, making a mental note of the address before driving back to her house to get her things ready. She made sure to pick the freshest purple Agatha Christie from her garden.

You hung out with Wanda the whole day the next day. Watching movies or just simply talking. You dreaded having to go back home. It was around 11:24 when you finished the last movie of the night. You and Wanda talked for a little longer before you started to gather your things and bid her goodbye.

Agatha watched from a distance as you said goodbye to Wanda. She was growing impatient, waiting for you to leave. She was tempted to just barge in and take you away, but she knew she had to wait. She watched as you left the house, making sure you were out of sight before making her move. She sneaked inside Wanda’s house through the front door that was dumbly left unlocked. She stepped inside slowly but the door creaked as she was closing it.

“Y/n? Is that you?” Wanda called out from her couch. Agatha froze at the sound of Wanda’s voice. She had hoped that she would be able to sneak in without being noticed but it was just a little bump in the road. She decided to simply walk into view.

“No, it’s not Y/n…” Wanda quickly jumped off of the couch as soon as she saw it wasn’t you.

“Agnes? What the hell are you doing here!?” Agatha smirked as she saw the look of fear on Wanda’s face. She stepped further into the room, her eyes fixed on the redhead.

“Oh, you know, just paying a little visit,” Agatha said casually while playing with the knife in her hands.

“Get out of my house you psycho!” Wanda shouted, backing away slowly. Agatha chuckled, taking a step closer to her.

“Now now, no need to be rude. I just want to have a little chat with you. You see, I have a little score to settle,” she said, her voice dripping with malice.

“Score? What the hell are you talking about?” Agatha took another step closer, her eyes glinting with madness.

“You’ve been getting in my way, Wanda. You’ve been trying to keep Y/n away from me. I can’t have that, you see. I need her, I know we are meant to be and I won’t let anyone stand in my way.”

“You…you’re her stalker aren’t you?” Wanda’s voice trembled. The brunette smirked, her grip on the knife tightening.

“Guilty as charged…well not really,” she said with a twisted smile. “And I’m here to make sure you don’t get in my way anymore.”

Wanda tried to make a run for her back door but Agatha caught up to her, yanking Wanda back by her hair making her yelp in pain. Agatha pinned her body against her own, the knife pressed against Wanda’s throat.

“Naughty girl. Trying to run away from me,” Agatha hissed, “Any last words?” Agatha whispered into her ear tauntingly but before she could actually say anything she slit her throat. Wanda’s body dropped on the floor with a thud. Agatha stood over her, watching as she choked on her own blood when suddenly she heard the front door open.

“Wanda? I accidentally forgot my phone on the coffee table-” You froze in your tracks at the sight before you, Wanda’s agonizing body on the floor with a purple Agatha Christie in her mouth. You ran to her body, laying her head in your lap.

“Wanda! Wanda, stay with me! Please!” You sobbed holding her now cold body closer. Eventually you got a hold of your phone and with your bloody hands dilated 911. They arrived at the scene quite fast and it was determined that this was yet another killing from the Angel of Death. They took you into questioning and you told them what had happened.

You told them you had stayed with Wanda and left at around 11:43. Half way through the way home you realized you had left your phone at her house. You just let yourself in knowing Wanda wouldn’t have minded and that’s when you found her dead body. By the looks of your interrogation and the way the crime scene was left a mess they came to the conclusion that you had interrupted the killer's kill.

They send you back home after giving you a change of clothes. A police officer escorted you home and made sure no one was inside before leaving. You made sure all your doors and windows were locked before you decided to take a shower. It was hard for you to fall asleep after what you had witnessed. It wasn't until about 3 am that you finally fell asleep.

The next morning you woke up feeling very groggy. You went into your kitchen to make coffee and that's when your phone started ringing. You were quick to answer it when you saw it was your coworker Monica.

“Hello?”

“Y/n, are you home?”

“Yes I am, why?”

“I need you to turn on your tv like right now.”

“Um okay,” you speed walked to your living room and turned your tv on to the news channel.

“What did you want me to-” you paused when you saw it. It was a picture of Agnes on your screen with the headline being ‘The serial killer known as The Angel of Death has been identified as Agatha Harkness’.

“Y/n? Are you still there?”

“…she was right there…the whole time- she lied about her name- she fucking killed Wanda!”

“I know. I’m so sorry Y/n. Do you have some family you can stay with? I think it might be best if you called the police.”

“I…I don’t have anyone else. Wanda was all I had.”

“I’m truly sorry for your loss. Why don’t you stay with me? Just until they catch that psycho.”

“I think that’s a good idea. Can you pick me up in an hour? I’m gonna call the police and pack a few things.”

“Yeah that’s fine, just send me your address. I’ll see you then.”

“See you.” you hung up finally let your tears fall. You hid your face in your hands when you heard your doorbell ring. You quickly wiped your tears and walked towards the door. You checked the peephole and saw nothing. You were about to walk back to the kitchen but curiosity got the best of you and you decided to open it. At first you saw nothing until you looked down. A purple Agatha Christie with a tag attached to it. You shakily picked it up and read it. ‘Sorry, baby.’ It read. You immediately closed the door and locked it. You walked back to the living room where you had left your phone to call the police but froze when you saw someone sitting on your couch.

“Ag- Agnes-”

“Now you know that’s not my actual name,” she turned to look at you.

“Agatha…”

“Good Girl, Now I need you to behave and not run.” Of course you didn’t listen and made a run for the door but Agatha tackled you to the floor. You started to scream for help, trying to get away from her hold but she covered your mouth.

“Shh, sweet girl, I can’t have you getting me in trouble. I did this for us, okay?” She said, her voice soft but deadly. You only looked at her with absolute fear in your eyes, realizing who this woman was. She held you down, her grip tight on your body. She looked down at you with a mix of possessiveness and obsession. She knew that you were terrified of her, but she didn’t care. In fact, she found it endearing.

“Don’t be afraid of me, sweetheart. I couldn’t have you spending time with that…Wanda, when you belong to me,” she said, spitting out Wanda’s name with disgust, “Now I am going to move my hand and you’re going to stay as quiet as a mouse, understood?”

You hesitantly nodded your head in response. The second she moved her hand away you started to scream at the top of your lungs. Her expression turned cold as you started to scream. She quickly covered your mouth again, her eyes flashing with anger.

“I told you to be quiet,” she hissed, “I don’t want anyone else to hear you. You’re mine, and I’m not going to let anyone take you away from me. Don’t make me hurt you.” She pulled you closer to her, her body pressing against yours as she held you in a vice-like grip. You didn’t listen and kept squirming against her, your screams muffled by her hand. She sighed defeated before taking a syringe out of her pocket and injecting it into your neck.

The effects of the syringe were quick. Within seconds, you felt your body growing heavy and your mind becoming fuzzy. You tried to fight it, but it was no use. Your screams slowly faded away as your body went limp in her arms.

“If only you would have listened.” She gently picked you up and carried you over to the couch, laying you down on it, “You’re so much more beautiful when you’re quiet,” she whispered, her voice filled with a mixture of possessiveness and adoration before she went to pack a couple of your things.

After she was done, she picked up again and took you to her car, placing you down on the passenger seat. She got into the driver’s seat and started the car, driving off. She glanced over at you, her eyes filled with a mixture of possessiveness and affection. She reached over and brushed a strand of hair out of your face, her touch surprisingly gentle.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. You’re safe now. You’re with me.”

Taglist; @polaris-likethestar @wandasreallover @oh-no-bummer @phixiesworld @eliscannotdance @venomhimbo @aka-patsy @Melonlord14 @scoliobean

#fanfic #angst #agatha harkness #fluff #agatha all along #agatha harkness x reader #agatha x reader

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anothermansjeans · 7 months ago

Text

Closer

a.h x f!reader

cw: some slight angst (blink and you miss it)

wc: 1k

prompts

a/n: hiiiii!!! this is based on this request! sorry for taking a bit, i've been swamped with homework. i have one more in my inbox but im still taking requests! you can uses any of the prompt lists linked or just send me any request you have!

Hotch had a problem. He didn't necessarily want this problem, but he also didn't want to fight it. He had started to develop feelings for his coworker– who is also his subordinate– Y/N.

It started pretty recently. The team got back from a case and he told Jessica he would need her to watch Jack for a couple more hours. Unfortunately, that couldn't work for her, so he asked if she could talk to the babysitting agency and get someone in before she left. All was well when he last heard from her, and he was told that if they can't get someone out, they'll call him.

That’s why when his personal phone rang, he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering “this is the one time I’m wishing they’re calling about my car’s extended warranty.” Alas, he picked up the phone and saw it was the agency he used, and they couldn't get anyone out this late in his area. He was so frustrated, he wanted to cry, which was more common than not recently.

After hanging up, he was so lost in his head, preparing to head out and take his work home with him (he never liked doing this, too scared Jack may see something he shouldn't). He didn't realize his door was opened the entire time, and he certainly didn't realize that Y/N had popped her head in with a mildly concerned look on her face.

“Hey, I was just heading out… are you okay?”

He jumped the tiniest bit, and looked up at her. “Uh, yeah. I’m actually leaving too.” He stood up and grabbed the pile of files in his desk, preparing to shove them in his briefcase, when he looked up for a millisecond to see the confused look on her face. “Jessica can't watch Jack for the rest of the night and there are no babysitters available this late of notice. I have to bring work home.”

Hotch didn't know what to expect from his oversharing, but it definitely wasn't the next words out of Y/N’s mouth. “I can watch him!” He looked at her. She looked at him. Y/N suddenly laughed to herself and shook her head. “Sorry, I meant to say if you need me to, since I’m already heading out, I can watch him until you're finished up here. I know how you feel about bringing those files home.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that–”

“You're not asking!” She promptly cut him off. “Trust me, Hotch, I want to do this for you. The sooner you say okay, the sooner I can go relieve Jessica.”

He numbly nodded, putting his briefcase on his desk. “Yes, thank you. I owe you for this. I’ll let Jessica know and I promise I won't be too long so that you can enjoy the rest of your night.”

And it was that simple of a solution. He did his work, you watched Jack, and when he got home, he was able to witness you putting his kid to bed. It was sweet (beyond sweet, really), and since then, whenever the team got back from a case and he needed extra help with Jack, Y/N would volunteer without being prompted. He loved seeing the little moments Y/N had with Jack, so much so that he would sometimes come home a little early (he could survive the extra work on a night Jessica was babysitting) and offer to have Y/N stay for dinner, which turned into bedtime for Jack, and then a little wine after he was asleep.

He didn't know when the feelings began to develop exactly, but once he noticed the excitement of going home to not only Jack but also Y/N, well he wanted to put a little bit of space between them. He wishes it was a gradual thing– really, he does– but he kind of just started declining her offers, making sure to book a babysitter hours (sometimes days) prior so that there were no issues with someone watching Jack. He hadn't taken into account what Y/N would be feeling about this shift, and he wasn't sure why he was so surprised when she marched into his office after a case; a time where they would normally arrange for her to watch Jack.

“Did I do something? Did I hurt Jack, or offend you, or literally anything wrong?”

“Excuse me?” His head whipped up from the papers under him.

“We had a routine. Something happened to disrupt the routine. I just need to know what I did wrong.” She looked sad. That was something Hotch didn't see on her often.

“You didn't do anything wrong.” He placed his pen down and stood up, closing his office door and standing in front of Y/N. “I have this problem.” He didn't know how else to state it, but he had to say something now or she’d think that his problems are her fault (and he would say a hundred times over that this was never her fault). “I don’t want to feel things for you but at the same I have this need to be near you 24/7.”

Eyes wide and deep breaths, the only thing Y/N could utter out was “what?”

Hesitating, Hotch stepped a little closer. “After seeing you with Jack and spending more time with you I…” he scoffed and shook his head “this is so juvenile.”

“Keep going, please.” Her response was quick. She needed him to finish.

“I want to be near you all of the time and I got scared of that– we work together, I’m your unit chief, I shouldn't be feeling things the way I do so I just… I pulled away.”

The silence was suffocating for the minute Y/N took to digest all that was said, but after what felt like years to Hotch, he felt her hand tentatively touch his, gently raking her nails down his palm before interlocking their fingers. “You don't have to… pull away.” The shy look was turning into one of awe. “We can… be around each other more often. See what happens. If you want.”

Maybe Hotch didn't have a problem. He felt a warmth spread through his body at the mere thought of being closer to Y/N, to seeing what happens with them, to a future. He definitely didn't have a problem.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds #aaron hotch #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x fem!reader

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skelly-words · 1 year ago

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hiii , if i can ask for like mammon and mc sitting in his room and he tried to "do it" with her a lot of times but she just stop him , one day he get a little mad so asked for asmo help , so asmo asked mc what was the reason and she told him that she feel insecure abt her body , he conferm her، and when asmo tell mammon abt it he go to her and make her love her body on his way

thanks if u accept it and if not have a good day<333333

(NSFW Mammon x Reader)

18+ no minors allowed!

Hiiiii anon, thanks for the ask. hope this is what you were looking for. This was proofread by Grammarly and that's it so I apologize in advance for mistakes.

No use of Y/N. There are no pronouns used (I think) but the reader is pretty feminine (wears a skirt, pretty girl is used once or twice, has a pussy.)

Tags: serviceswitch!mammon o7, very vanilla, light fluff, praise, cunnilingus, cumming untouched, very light angst, hair pulling, language, spit kink? lemme know if I missed anything

Synopsis: see ask above. Mammon eats you out.

Wc: 3.7k

You and Asmo love to gossip. Every week or so you get together, shopping and pampering yourselves and spilling every detail of your personal lives. You're ending the relaxing afternoon with bottomless mimosas at Hell’s Kitchen’s Sunday brunch, talking way too loudly about everybody’s business. It’s so easy to forget about the world and vent when the waiter fills up your champagne glass and Asmo smiles so encouragingly at every word you say. Though, today it seems like Asmodeus has an agenda. He keeps steering the conversation towards you and Mammon’s budding relationship, which is exactly the topic you want to avoid.

“At least tell me if he's a decent lay” Asmo whines. “If not I have a 50-slide presentation I can send you to give him a crash course in pussy.”

“That sounds more like a master’s program. Besides, I wouldn't know.” You mumble the last part around the rim of the champagne glass as you down the drink, and Asmo signals at a waitress to bring you a refill.

“What?” Asmo really tries to sell his shock here. He feels bad lying to you, but it's not often he has Mammon begging for a favor. “No way, are you losing interest?”

You shake your head quickly. “No.”

“Are you a virgin? Is it too much pressure?” With every question he scoots a little closer to you in the booth, so you only need to whisper an answer.

“Nothing like that. I've been with a couple of people before, and Mammon is really sweet. He barely even mentions sex at all anymore. I think he might even be scared to kiss me. I'm more worried about him losing interest if I don't put out.”

“You don't have to worry about that. He's insane about you.” Asmo scoffs. “Like he-should-be-institutionalized insane.”

You laugh at Asmo and shove his arm off of where it loops over your shoulder.

“No, I'm serious,” he continues. “I want to sedate him before even mentioning you. I think he'd rename important landmarks after you if he could. Whenever his mouth opens, there's a 96% chance he's gonna bring you up. You get it?”

“Thanks, I get it,” you murmur softly. Tears threaten to fall as your vision blurs a little and you blame the four mimosas and the fifth one the waitress sets in front of you. “Now I feel guilty. He's too sweet for me.”

“No, hun. That's not what I meant.” Asmo pulls you into a hug. A real one that he doesn't let you shrug off. “What I'm saying is that you can talk to him about whatever you want and I'm sure he’ll understand or at least help you work through it.”

His hug is warm and soothing, arms holding you close and tight without feeling suffocating.

“You're the best, Asmo,” The words are a little slurred and shaky, but it’s easy to get emotional when you’re buzzed and Asmo is being so sweet. “I don’t know. It has nothing to do with Mammon. It’s just, I’ve never had great self-esteem, so physical intimacy can be a little hard. I mean, there's plenty of things for me to be insecure about, and I'm aware of every single one of them, so when I see how pretty and perfect Mammon is-”

“Gross.” He cuts you off at the perfect time, right before your sappy rambling. He makes a retching sound and reaches for his drink to wash away that sourness.

You glare up at him. “That's my boyfriend you're gagging at, asshole.”

“Yeah. You sure know how to pick ‘em.” His nose scrunches up, and you're half-sure it’s involuntary.

“Yeah.” You sigh dreamily and continue. “I just don't know how to bring a mood-killer like that up.”

“Want me to tell him for you?”

You think about it for a moment. “I feel like I should stop being a little bitch and just rip off the band-aid.”

“Okay, you could, but you haven't.”

“I think talking it out with you will make it easier though. I'm gonna talk to him as soon as we get home.”

“Promise? Cause I'm sick of him bitching about how you don't love him anymore.”

You smile and nod and pretend the confidence is from more than the alcohol. “I promise.”

***

Mammon’s been waiting for Asmo to text him all day, nervously pacing or playing with random things in his room to occupy the time. He’s flipping through an old copy of a magazine he modeled for when his phone buzzes with Asmo’s custom ringtone, quickly followed by yours. He snatches the phone off the bed and flops down between the pillows. He reads the text from Asmo first.

Asmo: So so, sorry, but I can’t spill ): We’ll be home in like 20 minutes

“Ugh.” Mammon glares at the ceiling. He was sure Asmo would come through. Especially after loaning you two Lucifer’s stolen his credit card for the day out.

Mammon opened your messages next.

<3: We’ll be back in a little bit.

<3: If you’re not busy, let’s hang out. Love ya

Mammon: I’m never too busy for you, chillin' in my room

<3: Good answer

The next twenty minutes are spent trying to figure out how to dress. Mammon tries to master the look of lazily lounging around the house without looking suspiciously slutty. The final decision was a black wife beater and basketball shorts. He even experimentally smudges his eyeliner to make it look a little slept-in. He carefully uses the remaining time to switch out accessories and pose around his room in an attempt to see “where he looks the hottest.” In the end, his efforts are futile and he doesn’t notice you come in, too busy changing out his earrings.

“Hey.” You tap him on the shoulder, hesitantly, not wanting to scare him.

“Oh, hey, hi.” He turns around, lips pressed into a smile that looks a little too tight for his face. “So how was your day with, um, Asmo?”

“Nice.” Now that the mimosas had worn off and Asmodeus wasn’t around to keep you confident, the impending conversation was starting to make you nervous.

“Just nice?” Mammon asked with a tilt of his head. “What can I do to make your day better, babe?” He gently cups your face, becoming acutely aware of the sweat on his palms, and the breakfast on his breath when he kisses you.

You kick yourself for how quickly you break the kiss to murmur against his lips, “I’ve been lying to you. Well, only by omission, but still. Can we talk?”

Your hands hold each other to stay steady. Realistically, there’s nothing to be nervous about. You’ve blown this whole thing out of proportion, but it’s not like insecurities follow basic logic.

“Yea, ‘f course.” His hands trail down your sides.

You don’t notice the sweat, more the warmth as he thumbs over each of your ribs.

“Just talk to me, angel.”

And you hate that it sounds like he’s begging. Like he wants you to dump your baggage on him. Especially, when it should be so easy for you to just get over it on your own.

“I don't think I'm hot enough for you.” It comes out messy and unarticulated.

“What? That’s ins-”

You don’t let him finish, cutting his rebuttal off with the more rehearsed version of what you said. “I mean, whenever I go to see you at your photoshoots, you look so good with those other models. You're surrounded by all these perfect men and women who you'd look great with, so great that it's literally on the cover of a magazine, and I can't compete with that. And it's not like this hasn't happened before. I've never been the first choice, just someone to settle for or a rebound, y’know?”

“Not really.” He scratches the back of his neck, realizing how clammy his hands have become and how uninspiring that answer is. “But, well, that's because I've never felt that way about you. There’s no need to compete with anybody, baby. You're everything to me. I don't even notice other people when you're around or when I'm thinking about you, which is always. And I can't make up for shitty past relationships, but I hope you know I'm better than that.”

“Thank you, and I wanted to apologize. That’s why I’ve been avoiding being physical with you, but that seems kinda dumb now. So, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. And I'm a little insulted that you'd compare me to your past partners. I'm The Great Mammon, not some idiot human boy with no brain. I can't even comprehend why you'd jump to that. I'm appalled, disgusted even, livi-”

You cut him off with a kiss. Smiling into the lines of his lips as he struggles to keep up.

He breaks the kiss to keep talking. “And I'm not just saying all this ‘cause I wanna have sex with you. Not that I don't want to do that. I just don't want you thinki-”

“Shut the fuck up, Mammon.”

“Yes, ma’am.” His hands find your waist again to pull you towards him.

The way you kiss is slow and natural. A welcome change to the stiff distance you’d previously been putting between your bodies. His hands wander and guide you closer. It takes a moment for you to reciprocate, too distracted by the simple comfort of his touch.

You rest your arms on his shoulders, lazily lifting a hand to play with the fine hairs on the nape of his neck. As your fingers tangle higher up on his head, you tug gently to pull him away. It’s nice just to look into his eyes for a second. The dark blue near the center of his iris almost blends with his blown pupils. You find it impossible to pick a favorite shade of blue when his kaleidoscope gaze stares so intensely back at you.

“It’s you who’s too pretty for me.” Mammon doesn’t even try to kiss you, just looking at you, flicking his eyes up and down your face. His thumbs barely dip under your shirt and skim the skin of your stomach, memorizing it in the pads of his fingers.

“Stop it.” You take a small, nearly involuntary, step backward.

He follows you, pushes you until the back of your knees hits the edge of the bed.

“No. You gonna let me see all of your pretty self?” He asks. “Take it off.”

Mammon gently stretches the fabric of your shirt away from your body, waiting patiently for you to comply.

You nod. Your eyes slip shut as you peel the top off, and you don’t bother opening them to see his reaction. You just wait for him to say something, to touch you, or to give you any indication of disgust and rejection.

He holds you gently by the side of your neck, lifting your chin with the pads of his thumbs.

“Can you look at me, sunshine?”

It takes a moment for you to make eye contact with him. You’re not expecting him to be disgusted or reject you, but that doesn’t stop you from being nervous or unsure. He smiles when you finally meet his eyes.

“We don’t have to do anything right now. It’s your call, always, okay?”

“Okay, but I do want you right now. ‘M just a little nervous.” Your hands need something to do, so they go back to threading through his hair. You thank Jesus that Mammon takes that as a cue to kiss. His hands smooth down to your shoulders, never breaking away from your skin.

The kiss is too long and too deep, not parting until you’re roughly panting into each other’s mouths. You sit on the bed and Mammon pushes you down onto the mattress, waiting for you to tell him to stop.

“Don't just stare, weirdo.”

He chuckles, and you can feel it on your face.

“Sorry. I just can’t believe you’re real, and really with me.” His admission comes with a blush smeared across his face. It’s hard for him to continue the eye contact after that. Mammon buries his face in the crook of your neck as he laughs again. “You’re just here, and I love you so much.”

Your fingers are less rough in his hair, gentle and soothing. His arms dip behind your back to hug you, keeping your bodies pressed together for a minute or five. Until he’s sure you’re not leaving. When he finally moves, it’s to unhook and remove your bra, but then he’s back to hugging you again. This time, kissing between your breasts, he doesn’t know why you’d ever keep this from him. His hands don't stay in one place for long, wanting to feel every inch of the body that you've been hiding.

“You know what pisses me off the most?” Mammon lifts his head to look up at you. Saliva coats his mouth, your skin, and connects the two with lust and heat.

You don't answer, half-scared he's changed his mind.

“I hate knowing that someone else has seen you like this before me. I wish I was your first everything.” His mouth is smothering yours again like he wants the feeling of his lips to stay there even after you’ve parted. From your mouth, he drags light kisses down your jaw and to your neck. He keeps you so close that, even though he can't see it, he can feel the flush coming off of you.

“You won't hide from me anymore, right?” His kisses begin at the junction of your shoulder but quickly drop lower, down your chest, tummy, thighs, winding a clear path down your torso.

“Hey.” Mammon stops and the fuzziness dissolves. Your attention easily snaps back to him, where he kneels on the floor, hair sticking out where you’d tugged it out of place. “When I ask you questions, fucking answer me.”

You swallow thickly and nod, unsure of what would come out if you opened your mouth.

“Words, babe. You won’t hide from me anymore?” Though it’s a statement, he’s still asking. The skin of your thighs is worried between his teeth as he waits for an answer.

“I wo-” You cut yourself off, inhaling sharply when his teeth dig in too hard. He soothes that spot with his tongue, making you moan into the back of your hand.

“Close enough,” he murmurs.

He inches the hem of your skirt up as his lips climb back up your skin.

You scoot up the bed when his mouth lands on the crotch of your panties next. He chases you, following and following until your back is pressed against the headboard.

“Quit that.” Mammon yanks your knees apart. His broad shoulders stop your legs from snapping back shut. “Where’re you going?”

“I don’t know,” you admit. “I mean- don’t you wanna fuck?”

He nods into the crease of your thigh, nosing the lace trim of your panties. “But not yet, treasure. I’ve been missing meals, gonna make up for lost time. Can I taste your pretty pussy, please?”

“Yeah,” and it comes out like a breath. You slip your panties off. Mammon never lets you close your legs, so you have to frustratingly take one leg out at a time.

He grabs the garment, dangling the blue panties in front of your face.

“Can I keep these?”

You snort. “Pervert.”

“So?”

“Yeah, you can have them.”

Mammon neatly folds the dirty underwear and roughly stuffs them into the pocket of his shorts.

“You’ll get them back when I’m done.” He’s not looking at you when he says that, eyes dropping lower to where your legs are spread as he pushes your skirt up around your waist. You feel warm like it’s too much for him to look at you.

“Gross,” but it comes out weak. You’ve shrunk back into the pillows, barely breathing between your fingers, mouth gone dry.

“Uhuh.” Mammon nods, dragging his nose down the trimmed hair above your slit. The hands on your thighs slide inward, keeping your legs spread and pinned against his pillows. His bottom lip brushes your clit as his mouth drops lower. He completely skips over the nub, licking at the slick pooling beneath it. “You get this wet for everyone?”

You can’t speak, covering your mouth with your palm to bar any sounds from escaping. His head tilts, looking both amused and curious as he waits for an answer.

“No,” you mumble.

“Yeah, well good.” Mammon’s mouth quirks up into a smug grin as he readjusts himself to lay more comfortably on the bed. He lies flat on his stomach, lazily kicking his legs back and forth as he kisses around your clit. He knows exactly where it is, but teases on purpose until he can feel your hips straining beneath his hands.

Mammon’s palms keep you pressed down so easily that you don’t notice how desperate you are beneath him. Not until he lets you go. The reaction of your body is involuntary, a few rough rolls of your hips before you can keep yourself still. Your groans are stifled by your palm, you can feel the hot breath and saliva collecting behind your hand.

“Wait?” He sounds disappointed. “Don't stop.”

Mammon’s hands catch beneath your thighs, sloppily simulating the roll of your hips against his face. The movements of his mouth are less coordinated, too preoccupied with the strain on his forearms. Your juices smear messily on his chin as he works you open, pushing more and more of his tongue into you.

Spit collects in your mouth. You can’t keep from moaning into your palm, and all that sweat and drool runs from the corners of your mouth to collect on your chin. His mouth is warm, and the flick of his tongue deep inside you makes you match the pace he’s already set.

Mammon grunts against your cunt. You can feel it more than hear it. The sound is low, deep in his chest, and drowned out by the sound of your heartbeat in your ears. The edge of your orgasm builds with the soft vibrations of his lips. Your hesitant grind is pushed quicker by the need to get off. Every glance down at your spit-covered pussy has you bucking upward with a muffled gasp.

Mammon is lazy, leaving you to chase your high as he looks up at you, enamored by how you still try so hard to cover the sounds spilling from your mouth. He’d say something about it if his mouth wasn’t so busy. It’s not until you dare to stop staring at him that he speaks up.

“C’mon.” Mammon lands a sloppy kiss on your clit. “What? Now you’re too good to even look at me, pretty girl?” He manages to sound so fucking pathetic and upset that you look back down at him. He grins back at you, pleased with his performance. Small kisses work up from your sopping hole to swollen bud. He flicks his tongue, teasing and testing before fully sucking on it.

“Shit.” This is the first sound you let through your fingers, followed by a shaky moan as you try to control your breath. You can’t help but pant, stuttering, and heavy between the gaps in your fingers.

“I know,” Mammon keeps his words short, barely parting from your skin to speak.

Though he tries to hide it, you can’t help but notice how he pushes his hips into the comforter, grinding his dick against the mattress through however many layers of fabric. You almost feel bad for him, but then he moans against you like he’s the one getting head.

The hand you’d been using to keep yourself muffled reached between your legs to tangle in Mammon’s hair. The palm is still tacky from spit, sticking to make you tug rougher on the strands than you mean to.

“M-more. Just a little bit more.” The words stumble out of your mouth like you don't know what you’re saying. Whatever will make him push his tongue a little deeper. “Pretty please.”

“Mhmm,” Mammon moans an affirmative into your pussy. He can feel your clit throb against his nose. Each second that passes brings you closer to climaxing.

You’re stuffed full of his tongue, rubbing your clit on the bump of his nose. He’s barely done anything himself except taking it and whining. The rhythmic rutting of his hips starts working the comforter up the bed, gathering it beneath him to fuck into. He’s not even looking at you straight anymore, eyes focusing or crossing dazedly.

You tighten your hand in his hair by pure instinct as you writhe beneath him.

“I think I’m gonna-” You’re not given a chance to finish before the twist in your stomach spills over. “O-oh, Mammon. Fuck, I’m-”

The last of your words are drowned out by his own needy moans. His hips hump the comforter bunched beneath him.

“Fuck, I love you.” His tongue licks a long stripe up your cunt.

“I’m still sensitive.” You shudder, and the hand in his hair falls to grip your skirt.

“Gotta clean up my mess,” he mumbles. He laps the saliva and cum from your skin, eventually just leaving wet kisses up the crease of your thigh.

Mammon’s sweaty and flushed, still grinding into the blankets. His eyes flick shut and he lays his head flat on your lower stomach. His breaths are quick, warming your skin.

A hand slips from underneath you to overlap yours. He pulls it back to his hair. “Pull it again.”

You want to be gentle, running a hand through the white strands. Mammon doesn’t care for your afterglow tenderness and slaps the side of your leg.

“Please, baby. I wanna cum.” Mammon kisses your stomach, low below your navel.

You can’t help but laugh at him. It’s too pathetic when accompanied by the frantic rolls of his hips. You can feel the skin beneath his head get sticky from the sweat and drool he smears onto you. He looks and sounds more fucked out than you just from using his mouth on you. His thrusts stutter when you twist cruelly on his hair.

“Yes, yes, like that.” He lets out a string of swears as he spills into his sweatpants. His labored breathing crests and slows, and you can feel when they finally grow even. “Thank you, treasure.”

Mammon doesn’t move from where he is, still comfortably tucked between your legs as he comes down from his high. It’s not until he’s been suspiciously quiet for too long that you realize he’s asleep.

#obey me #obey me smut #obey me x reader #obey me mammon #mammon x reader #mammon smut #god's judging me #mammon moans like he's the one getting head #skel replies sometimes

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luffyvace · 11 months ago

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Hello. :D

Just found out your blog, absolutely love it, especially the fact that you mostly focus on the fluff, I'm just weak to these kinds of stories. 😂❤️

Is it possible to request more headcanons about Robin with a s/o ? Like... what do you think her type would be ? How would she realize she's in love ? How would she behave before and after their relationship ? Her love language ? (Male reader btw, if you don't mind of course 😊)

OMG!! HIIIII i’m so glad you like my content anon!! :) and yes fluff is the besttt it’s so cute!!

of course you can have robin x male reader :) i don’t mind at all!!

i love robin tysm for your request!!! i’m happy to go more in depth on her loving reader :)

please enjoy!

OKK SOO for her type..!

robin loves a kind person!!

kindness was something she hardly received growing up and the first people to give it to her were the researches and especially Saul!! (the dereshishishi guy if you don’t remember 😭)

seeing a kind person do something straight from their heart makes her smile

it makes her warm and reminds her about the comforting things in life

almost as if your being kind to her too

she doesn’t mind if your intelligent or not so intelligent

she would enjoy being around someone who laughs a lot though

not that she minds if your straight faced

she just likes seeing you laugh

it means your happy :)

and laughter was another thing that helped her through her struggles

robin also appreciates someone who likes quality time

so maybe not a distant partner

robin was also alone for most of the time in her life

if someone comes along in her life who she wants to stay, she would definitely want to spend as much time as possible together

especially since she has a hint of doubt you might leave one day

which is why she also wants someone loyal

for obvious reasons of course, she knows she wasn’t exactly the most loyal in the past

but technically to the straw hats she was

if you think about it

it doesn’t matter much else about whether your weak or strong, happy go lucky, solemn all the time—whatever the case may be!

just for the record if your strong you fight together and have each other’s back

and if your weak/average she does her best to protect you

especially knowing how dangerous world, on the grand line specifically, is

how she would realize?

hmm good question

well, robin is either in a book, in someone else’s business or in her thoughts

and it probably happened during the 1st and 3rd options

you know that moment when your reading and all the sudden you space out and start thinking of random things?

yeah well that happened to her and it was kinda flashback of all the memories you two had in the past

she felt intense joy as she found herself smiling at the thought of you

and then you walked into the room

you locked eyes for a minutes before you asked if she was okay

she nodded slowly before looking away

spawning a hand in the wall for a thumbs up to say she heard you. :)

you left the room. and she knew, she was in love 💗💗

okkk time for how she behaves ♡

before your relationshipppp…!

she softly initiates intimate gestures

putting a hand on your chest when she speaks to you

helping you out with random things

leaning into you while you sit next to each other

not completely

just kinda leaning towards you

she definitely asks to talk and spend time together more often

this all really just her showing she cares and sending hints she likes you

remember that smile she gave zoro when they first met?

yeah you definitely get that a lot :)

after tho

it ramps up a bunch!!

and i mean everything

you spend all your free time together

even if your off doing your own thing she’ll come and watch you with adoration in her eyes

if you like to train/work out she’ll be there in the crows nest or watching you out on the deck

ngl i feel like robin would like to be carried if your strong

she also likes to take naps

so if you take one with her she usually gets up first and admires your face

you guys hold hands in your sleep

💥💖💥💖

SO CUTE

she compliments and praises you for any achievements you make

will feed you sweets or whatever other types of food you like

if you do it back she’ll find it endearing

it becomes y’all thing

her love languages areee….

acts of service

quality time

and tidbits of physical touch

which you could likely guess from me dabbling in this in the headcanons above :)

for acts of service

you can ask her for almost any favor and she”ll do it no matter how weird

shes not delusional but most of your weird habits if you have any become endearing because she loves you

she’s got your back in battles too

quality time?

yes.

she loves to do anything with you

reading, training, eating, sleeping

she just loves you

so she spends lots of time for you

she never takes you for granted

physical touch is hand holding

whether it’s an extra arm or not

head pats and gentle cheek caresses

putting each other’s feet or shoulders together

little things like that<3

i wrote this so fast?! i took me an hour exactly 😭😭

i could honestly sit and write for robin all day it comes natural to me ♥︎

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quixoticall · 11 months ago

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The View Between Villages

Summary: Steve Harrington offers to be your ghostly tour guide after your mysterious, unexpected death.

AN: Hiiiii, if you’ve been wondering where I’ve been then, first of all thank you for thinking of me, and secondly, I have been sick with bronchitis for weeks. Tbh I never understood in Regency novels where they would make such a huge deal about someone being sick until now. That shit took me out. Anyway, in my convalescence I watch the show, School Spirits and I couldn’t help but see the similarities between Wally and Steve—both men of the 80s, hot labrador retriever jocks with a compulsive need for parental approval? So, that’s how this lil piece was born. I would love to continue writing in this universe so please, if you have any requests, send them in! In the meantime, I am hard at work on This Could Get Ugly and a lovely lil Eddie number inspired by another Noah Kahan song.

Warnings: School Spirit!AU, Major Character Death, talks about own death, brief mention of violence and death, angst, this is sad! Ghost!Steve and Ghost?Reader

Pairing: Steve Harrington x f!reader

WC: 2K

It’s Steve Harrington who first declares you dead. Admittedly it takes you an embarrassingly long time to realize, it wasn’t like they sent out notices for these types of things either, as convenient as a note would’ve been:

To Whom it May Concern:

We regret to inform you that on February 12 of this year, you will unfortunately perish under unclear circumstances in the city of Chicago, Illinois at Northwestern University. Please make sure to get your affairs in order before the set date.

No, none of that, instead you had attended three whole lectures before noticing that no one was acknowledging you—not your professors when you raised your hand; not your classmates when you asked if they could loan you a pencil; not even your best friend when you ran into him in the hall. You thought it could’ve been a weird prank. Then the news began to spread, you were missing. Reported by your roommate after not having come home from a late-night study session at the library. And then they found traces of blood in the boiler room of the library’s basement.

Still, you thought to yourself, maybe you were having a really long terrible dream. Or maybe you were in a coma. Or doing one of those VR headset things. Or maybe you were dead and cursed to spend the rest of eternity haunting the very campus where you died.

Your friends were never the gym type, which is why you end up at the school’s pool in an effort to avoid the pain and desperation you feel every time you see their tired but still-hopeful faces.

That’s where you see him. Or, more importantly, where he sees you. You first spot him sitting at the edge of the pool, observing the ongoing swim team practice and are immediately struck.

Sure, you may be stuck in some weird reality where you may or may not be dead but you can still appreciate a hot person. Especially one as handsome as Pool Guy who’s striped swim trunks sit low on his hips and he has a smattering of dark hair trailing from his belly button almost up to the base of his neck. Thick, chestnut-colored hair swoops in his handsome face in golden-touched waves and gracefully frame a pair of honey-hued eyes. Of course you were going to stare.

You’re sure you stare for an indecent amount of time, but it wasn’t like that mattered, you remind yourself, you’re invisible to him like you are to everyone else.

Except you’re not invisible to him because Pool Guy was making eye contact and worse, he was waving, solidifying the fact that he is very aware of your presence. He can see you.

“Hi, you must be new here. I’m Steve Harrington, class of ‘86,” he introduces himself, with way too much verve once he swims over to where you’re still frozen in place.

“You can see me?” You ask, once you find your voice, “How can you see me?”

You reach out to grasp his offered hand and to your shock, your fingers don’t go straight through his, like it would with anyone else’s. Instead you’re enveloped in the warm solid grasp of his hand.

He cracks a smile at this, “because I’m dead too. Which, I totally get you’re probably wondering how someone this good-looking could’ve died so young but i will—“

“Dead?” you squeak out.

“Sorry,” he says with an awkward grimace, “I know not everyone likes that term, um, how do you identify—?“

You cut him off once again, “I didn’t know I was dead.”

It’s his turn to be confused.

“Really? Most people are really quick about putting it together. When they see their body the memories all come back. I mean even I put it together and I was never the smartest even before the accident—oh, shit. You’re the missing girl. The one from all the flyers.”

Clearly he’s referencing the myriad HAVE YOU SEEN ME? flyers with your face on them that paint the campus. Up until now, you had been categorically missing not dead, and now that someone has spoken your fate out loud, you’re certain it is all but sealed.

“Listen, I am so sorry. Let me go get someone who’s way better at this than I—“ you cut off his apologetic rambling,

“I need to leave right now.”

Before he can say anything else you’re running in the opposite direction as quickly as you can.

You don’t go back to the pool after that.

Being dead wasn’t so bad. Sure, you had spent a solid five weeks distraught over the loss of the life you had once lived and mourning everything you will never get to do. And yeah, it was a uniquely painful type of loneliness getting to see all your friends and never getting to interact with them, especially during those first few weeks when your disappearance was hot on everyone’s lips and heavy in the hearts of your friends. But outside of all that, being dead was okay. At least, you didn’t have to submit any more papers or do laundry.

After your encounter with Steve Harrington, class of ‘86, you decide to hole up in the library. You desperately convince yourself that if you search the shelves enough you’ll be able to find something in one of the many books that talk about the afterlife that might provide you some clarity about your newfound ghostly status. Surely there’d have to be something helpful. Anything. A ghost manual, perhaps or some graduate research paper about being stuck in between realms. You’d easily settle for a Chicken Soup for the Ghostly Soul.

Or you think traitorously to yourself, a tour guide to the afterlife, someone who has experience with being dead and a great set of abs. Every time you’re close to convincing yourself to go back to the pool, the embarrassment of your mortifying first encounter pulls you back. No way you were going to see him again. Just because you were dead didn’t mean you’d lost all your dignity.

Your internal back-and-forth ends up not mattering because he ends up coming to you.

You spot his well-coifed head maneuvering through the tall shelves from where you’ve holed yourself up on the fourth floor mezzanine and watch as he weaves through the unassuming crowd, completely unnoticed, just like you.

He’s wearing clothes this time, which both disappointing and surprising since you haven’t quite figured out the mechanics or social expectations of how often ghosts should be changing clothes. In a pair of snug-fitted jeans with a Northwestern Athletics sweatshirt and a pair of high top Nikes, he takes the winding steps up to your unofficial perch two at a time . If this is what he looks like some 40 years dead, you can’t imagine what he looked like when he had a pulse, it must have been like staring into the sun.

“Hi,” he offers tentatively when he approaches, like he’s sure you’ll run off spooked.

“Hi.”

“Sorry to bother you, it’s just, well, my friend Robin told me she saw you here and I wanted to come by and apologize for what happened. At the pool. I truly had no idea, sometimes I just say things without thinking, which I am working on, trust me.”

You smile, appreciative but defeated, part of you was hoping he was coming up here to tell you that there had been some sort of mistake.

“It’s okay, it’s not your fault, it was just a bit of shock, is all. I guess I’m still adjusting to this whole being dead thing,” you joke weakly.

“Yeah, about that, if you ever need help adjusting or learning the ropes or anything like that, I—we are always happy to help. There’s a few of us that band together and we’d love to have you. Truly,” he claws nervously at the back of his head as he makes his offer the tip of his sneaker digging into the worn library carpet.

“Thanks,” you say, genuinely, “I really appreciate that.”

He looks at you now, finally, and his gaze is golden, warm honey and it’s like a shot to the chest. Like you’ve promised him the moon. A hand is extended towards just slightly, a twitch, and you realize he’s expecting you to take it.

“I can’t right now, though,” you say, lamely and you watch his smile waver. Quickly you add, ”I need some time, I think, before it becomes permanent. If I go with you, I’m dead. Alone up here, I’m still just missing. Does that…make sense?”

He nods, furiously, “It makes total sense. You can come find me by the pool whenever you’re ready. I will be there.”

He makes a move to leave and you register the paper in his hand for the first time. It’s a flyer with your face on it, different than all the ones before.

“Wait, what is that?” You ask, fingers skimming the plush of his sweatshirt to get his attention.

“Oh, um,” he swallows thickly, “they’re having a vigil for you tonight, I wasn’t sure if you’d seen or if you were going, but if you were going, I was going to see if you wanted some company. “

His voice is small now and the regret is etched thickly on his face.

Fingers shaking, you extend a hand out for the flyer. Steve sighs but gently places it in your trembling grasp nonetheless.

It’s true, what he said about the vigil, you had no clue. You’re not sure how long you spend staring at your own face, long enough for the words to stop making sense, but not long enough for them to stop meaning anything.

Steve stays the entire time and when you sink to the floor, tear tracks heavy on your cheeks, he sinks with you. You cry, and he stays.

“I can’t go,” you admit, and then, in the same breath, plea, “How can I go?”

Next to you, Steve lets out a shuttering sigh.

“When I died, they did something similar, my parents came down from Indy and everything. I couldn’t bring myself to go either. But shit, maybe if I did, I would’ve gotten what I needed to move on from here. Closure or whatever. Or maybe not, who knows? But I will never know and I would hate for you to never know.”

It’s still too hard to go you decide, but you can’t pretend it’s not happening. Instead, the two of you sit on the roof of the library, feet dangling over the ledge watch a river of candlelight flowing through the center of campus. You can hear, faintly, as your friends make speeches talking about how kind you were, how good, how funny and undeserving until their voices fail from holding back tears.

You cry the whole time, but you don’t regret it.

The two of you stay sitting there far past the end, Steve’s arms wrapped around you, holding the pieces of you together.

After, when you’ve had enough of it all and the last candle has gone out, you turn to Steve and say, “thank you, that did make me feel better. You were right.”

He chuckles wryly.

“I don’t hear that I’m right very often,” he admits before cracking another smile, “but I could get used to hearing it, especially from you. Now, what do you say about getting some ice cream? No offense, but that thing was a total downer.”

You laugh, genuinely, not only at his joke, but the absurdity of it all before playfully shoving his shoulder. In response, Steve pretends to lose his balance and almost fall of the ledge and you both know it’s silly but it makes you smile so it’s worth it.

Dying is probably the worst thing that has ever happened to you, but at least you are not alone.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagines #Steve Harrington imagines #Steve Harrington x yn #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x you #school spirits!AU #ghost!steve Harrington

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readyplayerhobi · 1 year ago

Text

Because, I Love You | 11

; Genre: Fluff, smut

; Word Count: 5.7k

; Warnings: Oral sex (male receiving), unprotected sex, creampie

; Synopsis: According to society, Jeon Jungkook should not be with you. He should be with a younger, hotter and thinner girl instead of wasting his time on you. It’s a good thing Jungkook doesn’t care what society thinks then.

; A/N: Can you believe I wrote all this on my phone? If you enjoyed it, let me know what you think by leaving a comment or sending me an ask! Please reblog this so others can see it and follow the story of our favourite couple, and I’d love to read any reviews if people would be so kind!

; Masterlist

You're not the biggest fan of airports, especially not the waiting area. It's boring and there are barely any seats, which you always think is dumb because sometimes you have to wait ages before the person you're collecting turns up. And maybe it's because you're grumpy, but you hate standing for long periods.

You've been standing here for twenty minutes now. Sure - that's partly a you problem, as you're the one who turned up early. But sometimes planes landed early, and you didn't want Jungkook to be standing around waiting.

If there's one thing worse than standing in the waiting area, it's standing in the waiting area when you've been travelling for hours in a tin can hurtling through the air a few thousand feet up. You're not too sure what Jungkook is like when flying, but you tend to be grouchy when you're so close to home. But again, maybe that's just a you problem.

Leaning back against the wall, you purse your lips as you take in the people around you and those coming out of baggage collection. It's amusing trying to guess where people have come from - sure, you could check and look at the flight arrivals board but some people may have had transfers. The couple wearing t-shirts, shorts and flip-flops have clearly come from a hot country and they must've been more concerned with ensuring they were comfy back in the original country than when they arrived here. You certainly wouldn't want to be walking outside without a coat.

Not only that, but you like to take in the diversity of luggage. The people who have battered suitcases that speak of many journeys, the people with just a carry-on that's stuffed to the brim, the people who wrap their suitcases in plastic to make sure no one will get into them. You always wonder if airport security ever breaks into those, it's something you'd experienced before and you didn't like the knowledge that someone had rifled through your stuff.

People-watching is so entertaining that you don't even realise that your fiancé has finally arrived until he calls out your name. Head jerking over to him, you take him in with his oversized white shirt and black sweatpants. The straps of his backpack frame his chest, whilst he pulls his larger suitcase behind him. Smiling widely, you move forward with your arms wide open.

He'd already been smiling at you anyway, but now his eyes crease with joy and you get the rare sight of his dimple. You swear he has the most expressive face you've ever seen, and right now those sparkling doe eyes are practically radiating happiness, despite the bags under his eyes.

"Hiiiii," You grin, wrapping your arms around his slim waist and hugging him so tightly that he lets out a little grunt. "Missed you."

"Missed you, too. I forgot how much I hate flying, but I've got so much cool shit for you!" He starts taking off his backpack immediately and you laugh, pressing a hand to his chest and shaking his head. Always so eager to be moving and doing things.

"Show me at home, the parking charges are insane for this place. Hey, Jimin - you have a good time as well?" You ask, nodding a greeting to Jungkook's best friend.

You'd spent the last two weeks alone, as Jungkook had gone to Australia for two weeks with his friends. It had been planned for the last few years, with all of them finally having the time and money to do it. As a result, you'd been greeted with plenty of pictures of Jungkook as he'd enjoyed all the touristy sites of Sydney and Melbourne. You'd gotten plenty of pictures of him snorkelling, scuba diving, windsurfing, surfing, and all the other things that you'd never in a million years do.

Given they'd gone in January, they'd enjoyed high temperatures and plenty of sun. As a result, even with the liberal sunscreen they'd been applying, both Jimin and Jungkook had tanned from all their outdoor activities. Though, you noted with amusement, Jungkook had managed to get a sunburn on his nose while Jimin's cheeks were looking a little more rosy than normal.

"I did, and thanks for agreeing to drive me home. I really appreciate it." Jimin says, giving you a quick smile and a nod of his head. His bleached blonde hair makes his golden skin look even more tanned, and you can just imagine how many women and men he left heartbroken back in Australia.

"It's no problem, come on. Do you want to stop for food on the way back?" Jimin lived in the same place as Jungkook and you, hence why you were bringing his friend back. Jungkook's other friends he'd gone with had been college friends, who didn't live near anymore so they hadn't been on the same flight.

"I'm okay, I think I just want my bed." Jimin responded whilst Jungkook nodded in agreement. You weren't surprised, they both had that weird 'wired-yet-haggard' look that travellers got after being stuck in a plane for ages.

Unsurprisingly, Jungkook falls asleep in the car within ten minutes of getting into it. The soft sound of his heavy breathing, and the slight snores that accompany it, make the corners of your lips twitch in amusement. You've missed that sound more than you'd realised, and a glance over at him makes your heart clench as a sudden wave of fondness takes over.

His head has lolled onto his left shoulder, with his mouth dropped open and his slightly too long hair falling into his eyes. A large part of you desperately wants to reach out and trace the features of his face, but you look away to concentrate on the road once more.

"Did you enjoy Australia as well? Jungkook kept telling me that you were being a hit with the folk there." Glancing into the rearview mirror, you catch Jimin's eyes and watch as the corner of his mouth quirks into a satisfied smirk.

"Yeah, it was great. Definitely want to go back, and yeah…met some friendly Aussies." A snort leaves your mouth at that.

"Friendly, is that what we're calling it?" Your answer makes Jimin laugh softly.

"Hey, they were hot and willing. Some days we just stayed on the beach pretty much - think the days I actually wore a shirt were in single figures. Unlike someone else in the car, I'm a free agent." Chewing your lip, you grip the wheel a little tighter at his words.

You're glad Jimin, and the rest of Jungkook's friends had enjoyed themselves on their trip and had been well received in return. But you'd seen the pictures that Jimin had posted on his Instagram, of the toned bodies of both men and women he'd hung out with at various points. Some featured Jungkook, your fiancé enjoying his time with his temporary new friends, and of course, he'd fit right in with his tall, muscular physique.

Frowning, you take a deep breath and try to tell yourself to get over it. You're so deep in the sudden shoring up of your emotional defences that you don't notice that Jimin has been carefully watching you out of the corner of his eye.

"Don't worry, he was loyal. Even moved his ring to pretend he was married, think he broke a lot of people's hearts but he didn't care." At that, your eyes glance to Jungkook's left hand and you note the faint tan line on his ring finger. Warmth fills you, and you feel yourself relax slightly.

Jungkook had decided he wanted an engagement ring too, though he wore it on his right hand instead of his left. The fact he'd willingly pretended to be married when you weren't there made you want to reach over and give him a huge kiss.

For a second, you press your lips together and try to prevent the smile before deciding 'fuck it', and letting it spread. What on earth had you done to end up with Jeon Jungkook?

Jungkook doesn't wake up even when you stop at Jimin's place, nor when you get out to help Jimin get his stuff out of the back. Even once you've parked in your drive, behind his Mercedes that hadn't moved in two weeks, he was still out. There was even a dark patch on his shirt where he'd drooled, and you snort before shaking his shoulder. It takes a few attempts - Jungkook is legendary for being hard to wake up - but he finally blinks at you bleakly.

It's amazing how he hasn't even been to bed, yet he looks like he's slept for ten hours and isn't aware of what year he's in. It's not his best look, with his sleep-swollen eyes and dried drool, yet you still look at him with love. There's something tender and special about being able to see someone in such a vulnerable state.

"C'mon sleepyhead, we're home."

He groans deeply, stretching his arms as far as he can against the car's ceiling whilst his long legs push against the foot well. You can't even imagine how tired he must feel, and the way he stretches is probably one of those satisfying stretches where every muscle tenses before relaxing in an almost seductive manner.

"Damn, I slept the whole way?" Jungkook asks, twisting his seat to see the empty back seats. Chuckling, you push some of his hair behind his ear before opening your door.

"Yep, you even drooled." Closing the door cuts off his curses, and by the time he's finished frantically wiping his chin and shirt, you've got his suitcase out and waiting. The dull grey sky is probably much more boring than the sun he'd enjoyed in Australia, and the coldness makes him shudder as he follows you inside the house.

For the next hour or two, the two of you enjoy each other's presence once more as you make a spicy chicken stir fry and he gets busy sorting out his laundry. You're not surprised that his most important business after getting home from vacation was to get his clothes cleaned.

By the time you've both finished off the stir fry - with extra helpings for Jungkook as apparently airplane food isn't anything to write home about - and Jungkook has taken a shower to wash off the grime of travelling, his first load of washing is done. You watch in amusement as he sorts everything out, carefully placing clothes on the drying rack that he doesn't want to be put into the dryer. There's no reason for you to be here, in the small utility room watching your fiancé dry clothes of all things, but you missed him.

Jungkook pauses for a moment, and he does nothing for so long that you're concerned he's fallen asleep. Moving over to him, you gently prod his arm and grin as he jolts his head up suddenly. You were half right, as he's rapidly blinking in an attempt to stay awake, even while standing and you smile.

"Alright, come on. You've sorted out your washing, for now, time for bed." He half-heartedly fights it for a second, glancing at the remainder of his washing before he trudged up to your bedroom. You follow, after locking the doors and turning everything off, and are endeared by the sight of him sprawled on the bed. He's half-dressed, only in his boxers and you get to marvel at the sight of him.

Even though he's tired, you can't help the spark of desire that ignites between your legs. It's been three weeks since you've had sex with him, and two of those weeks he hadn't even been here for you to look at. Old videos and photos you'd both made and his new pictures from Australia had been the only thing to keep you going.

But now he was back…half naked on the bed.

You don't realise you've been eyeing him so blatantly until he lets out a tired laugh. The movement makes his abs flex enticingly, leading you to crawl onto the bed with him.

"Eyeing up your prey?" Jungkook teases, one arm over his eyes whilst his free hand moves to squeeze your thigh. Part of you wants to take his hand and press it a little further to the right and up until you have those delightful fingers you love so much press right where you want them.

"Mmm, don't act like you don't like it." You emphasise your words by lightly poking the bulge that has slowly grown in his dark boxers. He might be tired, but one part of him is always willing to rise to the task.

"I always like it, I'm just a bit tired." He says, moving his arm enough until you get to see those big doe eyes staring at you. There's just enough mischief in them that lets you know though he might be tired, he's willing to play.

"Hmm…" Shifting slightly, you grasp the waistband of his boxers and tug. Slowly, they slide down and he lifts his hips slightly to help you, just enough that they pass the perfect muscles of his ass. It takes mere seconds to remove them completely, and you half-heartedly throw them in the direction of his clothes basket.

He's already stiffening nicely, even without any touching, and you simply watch for a moment. Jungkook has a nice dick - you're one of those women who enjoys a nice-looking dick and Jungkook definitely has one. Not so long that he pokes you uncomfortably in the uterus, and not too thick that it means you need to prep every time you want a quickie.

Humming to yourself in appreciation - honestly, what had you done to get such a hunk of a man? - you trace your fingertips over his thighs. Thick muscles twitch under your touch, his skin sensitive and causing him to shiver slightly. The sensations increase as you trail your fingers higher, your nails grazing along his inside thigh with just the right amount of pressure that he lets out a huff of breath.

"Still tired?" You ask an innocence you both know you're not feeling laced into your words and Jungkook grunts. Looking directly into his eyes, and ignoring the delightful expanse of toned need skin on offer, you grin as they narrow.

"I will die if you stop." Jungkook states bluntly, one hand pressed into the bed whilst the other is pushing his hair back. It lets you see how his bicep bulges and you know that he probably kept up his workout routine even in Australia.

"Bit dramatic, don't you think?" You tease, smirking as you trace one finger along the defined muscle that leads from his hip to his thigh. Unable to resist, you lean forward and gently bite the prominent line there and he hisses in response.

"Please just touch me," He grinds out, teeth pressed together. "I've missed you."

Even though he's already said it, and he's naked in front of you, your chest still warms at his words. To be missed by someone as handsome and sweet as Jeon Jungkook was special.

In response, you don't say anything but show your love and feelings by grasping his shaft and squeezing. The gesture instantly causes Jungkook to let out a sigh of relief, and you smirk as his cock twitches ever so slightly in your hand. He's hot beneath your palm, skin smooth and length hard.

Tightening your grip, you jerk him a few times before slowing your movements. Instead of the quick, sharp tugs you'd just given him, you instead tense your hand and stroke his cock in slow, measured glides that twist slightly at the top. It's something he'd taught you, and you know it drives him wild when you mix up the speeds and grips. It might not be enough to get him to come, but it makes him feel good.

"Good?" You ask, checking in with him and feeling smug pride at the way his brow is creased in an expression that straddles pain and pleasure. Jungkook nods quickly, pink tongue flicking out to wet his lips before his teeth play with his lip ring.

You continue to stroke him for a minute or so, even going so far as to grip him in two hands and jerk him fast and hard in a way that makes him shout out and half sit up. But as much as you enjoy using your hand on him, you want him in your mouth too.

So you do - moving on the bed until you're in a comfy position and holding his cock straight up. Without saying anything, you suck on the tip of him, engulfing the flared head with ease and letting your tongue play around with what it can reach as you continue to stroke him with one hand from his base to your lips. His thighs tense, and one wandering hand almost grasps your shoulder before falling away to tighten on the bed sheets.

Pulling him out of your mouth, you trail your tongue down the veins of his shaft and back up repeatedly, licking him as eagerly as if he was your favourite ice lolly. The taste of him is unique, and you close your eyes as you lick, kiss and suck along him as he whines and pants out pleads to you.

Letting the tip of him rub along your lips for a moment, you give him a second to recover as you take a deep breath before slipping him into your mouth in one move. Discovering you could deep throat had been a revelation for Jungkook, and you loved the way he lost his mind whenever you did it.

Humming in happiness as taking him whole, your nose being tickled by his public hair as it rubs against his pelvis, you undulate your tongue as best you can. It's not exactly the most attractive thing, but it makes him groan most delightfully.

Swallowing, you let the strong muscles of your throat work the tip of his cock, causing it to twitch in your mouth at the pleasure. You'd smile if you didn't have a mouthful of him, but you scratch your fingernails down his thighs and hum in satisfaction. His thighs shiver, and you watch in satisfaction as his abdominal muscles convulse as he pants out.

Jungkook has always had a fantastic body, with defined abs, thick thighs, strong biceps and jaw-dropping back muscles. There's something extra special about seeing all those muscles tense and shift as you please him, unable to stay still and making him writhe on the bed.

There's a noise that bursts from his mouth as you stroke the underside of his balls. You'd been with men before who didn't like their testicles being touched - men who found it too ticklish or just felt weird about it. Jungkook was all for ball play, and if gave him a blowjob without stroking or fondling them in some way then he'd pout a little. You think he just likes being overstimulated as he loves being edged as well. The more sensation he has, the stronger his orgasm usually was.

Part of you worries that he'll become a bit desensitised to it, so most of the time you won't go as intense. The last thing you want is for him to be unable to orgasm without a million things happening.

But for now…you'd engage in his wants.

One day, you'd try to give him a prostate orgasm. He'd already agreed to try it, but he hadn't yet felt confident enough to let you. You could only imagine how hard he'd cum then.

Another noise leaves him, and you get the sense it's asking for something. He sounds more whiny than usual, and you lift till his cock slips out of your mouth. Grasping the base of him, you stop it from falling against his stomach and instead tap it to your lips.

Each tap results in a kiss to the darkened skin.

"What is it?" You ask, pursing your lips and dragging him across them in a lazy measure. Giving blowjobs is something you enjoy, and you enjoy giving them to Jungkook even more. Apparently, you give the best blowjobs he's ever had, which does wonders for your ego.

Jungkook whines, pressing his palm to his eyes whilst his other hand flounders. It's like he can't decide whether he wants to grasp the bed, your head or himself.

"Use your words." Your own words are teasing, and you playfully lick his cock in short, quick movements. All the while, the hand grasping him moves slowly. He doesn't respond for a moment, so you make a tight circle with your index finger and thumb around him.

Slowly, you drag that circle up his cock and back down. The pressure on him is far more intense than if you just grip him in your fist, and his hips jolt up as a grunt leaves him.

"Fuck, fuck, please. Please." Jungkook moans, his breath catching in his throat as you jerk him off.

"Please…what?" You ask, raising a brow at him as a tiny smile takes over. From an outside perspective, it could be argued that you were dominating him. Neither of you engaged in the BDSM scene, and you didn't particularly care for the labels in your sex life but you did enjoy how whiny he got with you. If people wanted to label that, then fine.

"Please can we fuck? Please? Please, it's been so long." He whines, the syllables of his words extending with his stuttering breath, all of them more high-pitched than his normal voice. It makes you clench your thighs.

"You don't want me to suck you off?" Leaning forward, you circle your tongue around his swollen tip and make a questioning noise.

"No, please. Please, I want to be inside you." Jungkook begs, and you take a moment to sit back. It has been three weeks, what with the two weeks he was in Australia and the week before that when you'd been on your period.

Letting go of his cock, it falls to his stomach before rebounding slightly, trying its hardest to defy physics and reach you again. Pressing down on it, you use the space between your index and middle finger to stroke along the rock-hard muscle that lines the underside of him. Eyeing him, you bite your lip as you squeeze your inner muscles.

You're beyond wet. There's an unbearable ache in your pussy, the muscles tightening on nothing and leaving you desperate for something to fill it. For someone.

"Fuck, okay." You curse, giving in to him with ease. It wasn't a hard choice - your fingers were great and all but you'd missed the feeling of him inside you, on top of you.

Jungkook lets out a victory noise and sits up, the muscles of his abs working intensely in a way that makes your mouth water. He quickly moves onto his knees, and you let him move you into the position he wants.

What he wants is one of your favourites - you on your side, with your leg raised to expose yourself to him. He straddles your other leg, stroking his cock in firm movements that give away his familiarity with what pleases him. His free hand reaches forward and trails through the slick between your legs, fingers parting the swollen flesh there to reveal your needy entrance.

"Fuck." Is all he says, one finger scooping up some of the wetness and using it to thoroughly soak your clit. Your body appreciates it, the feeling of his fingers on your clit much more pleasurable when it's slippery compared to when it's dry. A satisfied sigh leaves your lips as you shift to watch him.

An unfortunate part of being a larger woman is that you often don't quite get to properly see what Jungkook does to you. Either you can't get into a position that makes it easy to see, or there's some annoying body part in the way. But that's what phones are for, and you've got plenty of videos and photos of him that made the lonely nights more palatable.

Though you can't see his fingers as they play with your clit, you do get to see the intense look of concentration on his face. Jungkook puts 100% effort into everything he does, and the crease between his brows gives away that he's completely focused on your body right now. Even his hand on his dick has slowed, his mind concentrating only on your body.

"Get in me already!" You whine, and it's not lost on you that the tables have turned. The raised brow on Jungkook's face tells you that it's not lost on him either.

"Now who's needy?" Jungkook mumbles, a smirk curving one side of his mouth and you scowl. The toes of the leg resting on his shoulder move to push him, and he laughs as he rocks.

"Alright, alright. One stuffed pussy, coming up."

"That was so cringy, don't say tha-ooh." Your complaint trails off into a breathy moan, the sound high as it catches in your throat. He'd taken the opportunity of your complaining to slide into you in one, firm thrust that has your eyes fluttering closed. Your pussy tightens on him instinctively, and you feel the tiny flutters of involuntary convulsions at the thick intrusion that causes so much pleasure.

"You were saying?" Jungkook asks, leaning over and resting his hands on either side of your head. It's a slightly awkward position, as your raised leg is pushed just a little too far but you ignore it in favour of the delightful sensation of him inside you.

It feels like he's deeper than normal, thanks to your leg being stretched in such a way that it has your pussy open in a way that it normally isn't. The sensations are intense, and that's before you even comprehend the fact that Jungkook's body is almost pressed to you, his mouth pressing open kisses to your shoulder and whatever part of you he can reach.

Before you can say anything, he moves. He doesn't thrust, nor does he pound - no, he rolls his hips into you in slow, precise movements. It's almost more like a dance, like he's grinding against you just with the bonus of his cock deep in you.

Groaning deeply, your arm that isn't pressed beneath your body tries to reach for some part of him. One thing you've learnt, after almost two years together, is that Jeon Jungkook knows how to fuck.

The open position your lower half is in means that your wetness is almost obscene. Already, after only a minute or two, your thighs are soaked as his cock pushes in and slick seeps out. The squelching sound is louder than normal, and you'd feel a bit shy about it if you weren't horny as hell. Plus, one of Jungkook's kinks is trying to figure out how wet he can get you - there have been attempts on his part to get you to squirt, so you know that he's probably more turned on than ever at the way you're soaking him.

"Harder?" Jungkook asks, and you twist slightly to look at him and nod. He's sweating now, and you'll both have another shower after this, but the dark look in his eyes gives away how much he's enjoying this. As if you needed that as proof though - not when he's balls deep in you.

"Fuuck, I've missed this." Moaning out, you push your hips towards him as best you can in your position and are rewarded with a spike of hot pleasure. Giving your shoulder a final kiss, Jungkook pushes up until he's once more knelt on the bed.

A look passes between you both as he grips your thigh with one hand, his other moving to rub at your swollen clit. Jolting at the sensation, you bite your lip and squeeze on his cock. His response is immediate - hips no longer rolling in a sensual dance but instead thrusting in a furious, hard rhythm.

Jungkook slams into you at a fast pace, his cock sliding in and out of you with ease and rubbing against all the parts that make your body tighten in delight. Skin against skin joins the sloppy sounds as he fucks you hard, taking advantage of his position to use the strength of his thighs and core muscles and the easy access he has to your position to his advantage.

Pushing your head into the pillow, you moan unintelligible words to him as your hand grasps the covers - a deep need to be doing something with your hands. His fingers are rubbing circles into your clit, just the right pressure and movements to have your hips jerking as your body fumbles between trying to seek out the pleasure or avoid it.

"Jungkook…fuck, yes…there, I'm gonna-" You don't get the words out before the pressure centred around your clit finally breaks and molten pleasure cascades out. The effect is immediate - your pussy clenches uncontrollably around him so forcefully that he's almost pushed out of you whilst muscles all over your body spasm - pleasure shorting out your nerves and thoughts.

Long moans drag from your throat, alternating between high-pitched whines and deep grunts as you let yourself go to the orgasm. It's helped along by Jungkook's continued thrusting, his cock pushing through the vice grip you have on him and stroking all the overstimulated nerves in your pussy until you're crying out mercy to him.

The hand holding your thigh tightens suddenly to almost painful levels as Jungkook's entire body stiffens, his muscles more defined than ever as his orgasm ricochets through his body. Over half an hour of edging and three solid weeks since being inside you combine for an orgasm so strong that his mind whites out for a second. His breathing stutters as a high whining moan leaves his mouth, his brow creased in almost painful pleasure whilst his cock twitches inside you, each movement jetting another rope of cum to coat your insides.

For what was probably a solid 30 seconds, though it felt much longer, neither of you move or say a word as you both come back into your minds. His cock milked dry, Jungkook starts to soften in you almost immediately and he visibly deflates with tiredness. He shifts ever so slightly and slips out of you, the loss of him both welcome and unwelcome. You can already feel the thick mess of his release beginning to trickle out of you, but you can't bring yourself to stop it.

Others probably would judge you both for it, but you'd both stopped using any protection around two months ago. It had been Jungkook who'd suggested it first, pointing out that you were going to get married and he'd been excited to have a baby previously. Apparently, it had weighed on his mind that you'd never got that baby, and he'd realised that he very much wanted to be a dad.

You'd been amenable to his thoughts, acknowledging that you'd rather have your first child sooner instead of waiting and potentially risking age-related issues. Not that there was anything wrong with women who had babies later in life, but you were well aware that you had the added risk of your weight.

So you'd both agreed to stop using protection. You wouldn't actively try - none of that tracking your ovulation or putting pressure on yourself - but you wouldn't stop it if it happened. This time, whenever it happened, it would be a choice that you'd both made. A choice that you'd welcome, but for now…you'd enjoy the benefits of having him bare.

Looking at him, you give him a tired smile before reaching out and grasping his hand. Your fingers shake slightly from the orgasm, but you squeeze his fingers affectionately. Despite the lewdness of everything that had just happened, the two of you simply stare at each other with fondness and so much love.

"Love you." You say, voice cracking a little and he gives a crooked smile before kissing your fingers.

"Love you more "

By the time you get out of the shower and reenter the bedroom to put on some pyjamas, you note that Jungkook has fallen asleep already. You'd find it impressive if you didn't know he could fall asleep in an instant, so you're not surprised that between the five minutes since him getting out of the shower and you giving yourself a quick wash, he'd already passed out.

Pulling on some fresh underwear and clean pyjamas, the scent pleasing to your nose against the faint odour of sex still in the air, you observe him quietly. He's near enough on his front, one arm tucked underneath his chest while his free arm rests on the mattress, his chin almost laying on his hand. Wet hair, extra black against the white and grey of the pillowcase, is beginning to dry and you can already are that he's going to have some wild bed hair in the morning.

Grinning and climbing into bed beside him, you take a moment to plug in your phone and apply a lip sleeping mask before turning off the light. Throughout all your shuffling as you wiggle down the bed, Jungkook doesn't even twitch and you wonder just how long he's going to sleep after a long flight and intense sex.

Moving over to where you can see his form against the darkness, you rest your cheek on his shoulder and lay your free arm over his slim waist. A quiet sound rumbles in his chest, neither a groan nor a moan of acknowledgement.

Pressing your nose to his shirt, you take in the scent of the man you love so deeply and sigh happily.

He's back home.

#armiesnet #networkbangtan #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts fluff #bts smut #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts fanfiction #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine

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rc-writes · 1 year ago

Note

Hiiiii, I like the design of your blog ✨

I don't know if you can write an imagine about Garfield Logan x reader (fem). Where they have an embarrassing but adorable moment when they try to have their first kiss.

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 "𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞"? ?

𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙨 | 𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙢

pairings: garfield logan x fem!reader

warnings: I think there's a curse word or two, reader is mentioned to also be a titan living in the tower, possibly a grammar mistake here or there (please let me know if you see any)

a/n: hi!! thank you! it took so long to format everything so i'm glad to see people actually like it! and thank you for being the first person i don't know to send a request in! i originally was going to make this a "three times they were interrupted and the one time they didn't" type of thing but i kinda got carried away and when i thought of the ending to this i just had to write it this way. but i do still have an idea for my original thought if you or anyone else would like a part 2. but anyways, i hope you like this!

Living in the Titans Tower and being a Titan made for an interesting and busy life. Besides having to go on life threatening missions every other day it was also nearly impossible to have alone time. Despite there only being a handful of people living there, there always seemed to be at least one person in every single room on every single floor.

Want to have a midnight snack alone at 3am? You end up scaring the shit out of another member of the team and vice versa because they too wanted a midnight snack.

What to have a training session by yourself because you want to train without being watched? Sorry someone’s already gotten there first and do not plan on leaving anytime soon.

Want to take a peaceful nap after a long day of training? Almost impossible with the sound of a video game blaring from down the hall.

So safe to say that when you and Gar started dating it was almost impossible to have a date night within the tower. It was also almost impossible to have a date night outside of the tower as well when you were both crime fighting vigilantes. You guys tried to spend the day at the nearby park before but a not so accidently gas leak in the city’s main electrical building cut it short.

This was why you and Gar opted for just staying in the tower and spending a day in your room.

At first it was a little awkward. Gar had been in your room countless times before, but with the new titles of boyfriend/girlfriend over your heads there seems to be a new pressure to be perfect. Gar was so nervous to overstep you had to be the one to tell him it was alright to sit down because he stood awkwardly in the doorway for the first two minutes of you two talking.

Eventually you two settled on making different kinds of bracelets. Possibly a bit of an odd thing to do on a “date” but it gave you two something to do and allowed for talking to still happen.

“Uh, I don’t think I did this right.” Gar sheepishly smiled as he held up a bracelet he was making that looked more like a giant knot than anything.

You giggled at his poor attempt at making a rope bracelet and moved closer to help. Now you were sitting side by side instead of across from each other. “Here let me help.” You said as you grabbed your own two strings of yarn. “First fold the blue yard in half and make a loop, then fold the pink and put it through the loop…”

You continued to give a detailed instruction on how to make the perfect rope bracelet but Gar didn’t hear anything past the second sentence. He was too busy watching every slight move your face made as you talked. From the slight smile you held as you began explaining, to the way your eyebrows knitted together in concentration, and to the way your eyes lit up when you finally finished the bracelet, he noticed it all. He couldn’t believe the girl sitting next to him even wanted to be his friend let alone boyfriend.

“Gar?” You asked when he didn’t say anything after you finished the bracelet. “Did you get any of that?”

Still slightly dazed, Gar said the first thing that came to mind, “You’re really cute when you’re all concentrated.” It took approximately 2 seconds for him to realize he said that out loud. And when he did come to he shifted his gaze from you in slight embarrassment, face most definitely completely red already. He wholeheartedly meant what he said but didn’t mean for it to come out so straight forward all of a sudden.

You also felt a blush creeping up your face at the same time a toothy grin did. There was Garfielf Logan calling you cute when he sat there, tangled mess of yarn still in hand, with the shyest adorable look you’d ever seen. You reached out with one hand to turn his face back towards you. “I personally think you’re cuter.”

Now it was his turn to have the biggest smile on his face. It wasn’t the first time you had called him cute but he’d pay big time for you to never stop saying it. He too reach a hand out to hold the side of your face.

Now you both stared into each other’s eyes, barely inches apart. For a few seconds you both just stared at each other’s faces before both of you started to lean forward. This was it, you both were finally about to-

“Hey Y/n, did you happen to know where Kory went?” Rachel suddenly burst through the door without knocking, sending you and Gar away from each other as quickly as possible. By the way you two moved so fast and Gar nearly fell off the bed it wasn’t hard for Rachel to figure out what she just interrupted. “Sorry, I’ll just go ask if Dick knows.” And as quickly as she came in, she went out.

For a moment you and Gar looked back and forth from each other to the door a few times before both bursting into laughter. The initial reaction was to feel incredibly embarrassed at what just happened but from the look on Rachel’s face it seemed like she was the most embarrassed and the whole ordeal was just too funny to not laugh.

“It truly is impossible to have alone time in this place, huh?” You asked once you gained control of your laughter.

“Unfortunately.” Gar responded, letting one more laugh out.

You reached for two strings of yard nearest to you, “So did you want me to re-explain bracelet making to you?”

Gar began to shift closer to you again. “In a second, I want to do one thing before.”

“What-” He didn’t let you finish your question before fully leaning in and kissing you. It was a very quick kiss, you didn’t even have time to process what was happening and kiss back before he leaned away again.

“Alright now you can teach me.”

#dc titans #titans #titans imagine #titans x reader #garfield logan #garfield logan imagine #garfield logan x reader #beast boy #beast boy imagine #dc

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gonktroll · 11 months ago

Note

Imma need u to hand over some Bruce, Creek and Guy hcs 😳🤲🏼

Author's Note:

hiiiii nonnie i can do that for you easy peasy :3 ok so i lied its not easy,, writing is so haaardd,, but we must persist !! i'll be real these are three trolls i don't really think about often...sorry i lied again i think about creek so much...looking back there's more of him than anyone else im so sorry !! lemme know if the formatting is broken or any typos!! also feel free to send in requests also,, the box is open still

on a side note, when did the format tools on tumblr get so crappy?

RELATIONSHIP HEADCANONS

Characters: Bruce, Creek, and Guy Diamond

Word Count & Time: 2, 721 words and 10 Minutes Read. Writing took around Two Weeks. Warnings & Tags: NSFW, Minors Do Not Interact! Contains: fluffy/romantic headcanons, mentions of children & having children (bruce and guy), cake by the ocean by dnce is there i guess, insecurity (bruce and creek), dirty talk (bruce and creek), body worship (bruce), overstimulation (bruce), voyeurism (bruce), cuckoldry (bruce), depictions of a toxic relationship (creek), jealousy (creek), outdoor sex (creek), oral sex (creek), orgasm denial (creek), dacryphilia (creek), power dynamics (creek), genitalia descriptors.

BRUCE

Let it be said: Bruce wants nothing more than to take care of you, please let him nurture you. Let him secure you emotionally, psychically, and mentally. Just let him take the pressure off your shoulders, even if it's for a short while. Do you need help with cleaning up? He's already got the mop and broom ready. Are you getting started with dinner? He's hopping in the kitchen to prep with you. Sparing time is the least he can do for you. You don't even have to ask him to help out, he's already ready to go.

Wouldn't pass up the opportunity to be a little mischievous towards you. Your boyfriend has bad dad jokes, boyish pranks, and an impish banter to behold. He'll have you busting a seam from laughter but he can't help himself. Bruce thinks you look best when you're smiling.

Catching a glimpse of any giggly children and their parents makes his heart yearn for you. Would you want a family like this? What kind of trolls would both your children be? These thoughts follow him for the rest of the day.

He's actively trying to leave Brozone in the past so he can look forward to his future with you. But, sometimes he can't resist showing off to you. He has to let you know how amazing of a singer and dancer he was (and still is). Please, be proud of him.

This troll is a romantic at heart, Bruce is always planning a secret date of some kind. Whenever you briefly mention something you're interested in, he's definitely ironing out the details to make it happen. Seeing the look of surprise on your face during the date makes it all worth it.

He doesn't mind what kind of date you plan, but if you want to make him happy, he loves dates that involve water activities. For instance, a romantic bath with rose petals and soft music is something he'd appreciate. Similarly, a date on the beach with a candlelit dinner would be perfect, and he might even serenade you with 'Cake by The Ocean'.

Playing the role of 'the Heartthrob' for a long time before suddenly creating a new identity has made Bruce feel insecure. He wants to be more than just 'the hottest troll ever' to you. He is more than just a pretty face with rock-hard abs. When you acknowledge who he is and validate his emotions, his stomach starts flipping and his heart is doing somersaults. You might actually be too good for him…

Showing genuine emotions to him and sharing personal moments will get him hotter under the collar than explicit words or seductive clothing ever could. Simply being authentic with each other is enough to spark his desire to be physically intimate with you.

It won't take much to convince Bruce to try something new with you. He loves experimenting and even if it doesn't work out, both of you can laugh about it later.

Bruce isn't fond of quickies, public sex, or rushed sex, he would prefer to take his time with you and hates the idea of being interrupted. There's no set schedule, but you make time for each other. It's best when it's just the two of you and all the time in the world.

During making love, Bruce will always prioritize the experience you're making together. If your legs aren't trembling and your voice isn't hoarse afterward, then he isn't doing his job correctly.

Bruce will talk throughout the whole affair. If he wants a reaction out of you or coax your attention, words are his weapon of choice. A quick aside of sweet teasing to quickly fluster you or lecherous murmurs along the shell of your ear while his hips languidly plunge into your insatiable warmth. Feel free to return his energy and talk back to him, he welcomes it.

There will never be a session where Bruce doesn't lavish you with endless praise and worship your body. You will always be told how attractive and precious you are to him.

He secretly worries you'd find it slutty but he's very interested in watching other trolls flirt with you and has fantasies of watching you fuck someone else. It would take him time to admit it to you, but you may get suspicious of how worked up Bruce gets after someone tries to make a pass at you.

Underneath those beach-bum shorts, Bruce is packing. His sheath is chubby, giving the impression that it's petite or compact. However, make no mistake: Bruce is a grower and it's meaty at full length.

GUY DIAMOND

Get ready to date one of the most dramatic trolls of all time - Guy Diamond. He does everything with emphasis and panache, and why wouldn't he? As an iconic troll, he shouldn't have to limit himself to others' expectations, and he appreciates that you recognize this. Guy is looking for someone who would never ask him to tone it down - in fact, he wants you to encourage him to turn it up! He's not going to dim his glow for anyone, and you make him want to shine even brighter.

Every time he expresses his love, it's extraordinary. He might put on a grand musical performance, surprise you with an extravagant gift, or take you on an unforgettable date night. Guy just has to let you know how much he cares and regular displays of affection just won't do.

Guy Diamond is a unique Pop Troll, possibly the only one, with the special ability to auto-tune his voice. He loves to show off his talent by hitting high notes and emphasizing particular words, all to get you to compliment him. If you tell him how 'cool and special' he is, he will feel elated and proudly strut around like a peacock.

Guy is known as 'THEE Glitter Troll', so it's only natural that his partner should be as stylish and cool as him. However, he sometimes tries to improve his partner's fashion sense or curtail their negative personality traits. This can put pressure on the relationship, as no one likes to be told they're lame. It takes some time for Guy to realize that he is dating his partner for who they are, not who he wants them to become.

You'll have to adjust to his extreme stubbornness. It's even more frustrating when he is aware of the consequences but still chooses to proceed. Unless you have a fondness for men who behave stupidly, it will require a lot of patience until he learns his lessons the hard way.

Another way Guy expresses his affection is by pampering you. He's always looking for opportunities to help you out with anything. He reminds you to take some time out and practice self-care whenever you're feeling overwhelmed. He's also concerned with your health, making sure you eat well and get some exercise. If you haven't socialized much, Guy has no problem taking you to a party today. He reassures you that taking care of you is never a burden, and knowing that you are happy means everything to him.

Raising Tiny Diamond had a positive impact on Guy Diamond's maturity, which is clear in his relationship with you. He has grown more considerate of others' feelings, and more thoughtful about the consequences of his actions. Instead of diving in impulsively, he takes the time to discuss plans with you. He also spends more time contemplating what he wants from your relationship long-term.

Guy loves it when you plan date nights including Tiny. Spending quality time with the two Trolls he loves most makes his heart sing. Watching you show love to Tiny Diamond by playing or singing touches a special place in his heart. He may not say it aloud, but he's started to think of the possibility of having another baby - with you this time.

He doesn't have a preference for who guides or receives during sex, but he likes to lean back and let you take the lead. Guy is not selfish at all, you won't be unsatisfied that's for sure. He believes that making love with you means sharing yourself with each other - and we all know Guy Diamond isn't afraid to share himself with anyone.

When it comes to sex, he will never be afraid to be open about his interests and desires and he expects the same from you.

It's still a mystery how nude trolls hide their genitals but Guy Diamond is rather average in terms of size. And yes, the sheath and balls are glittery.

CREEK

Let's address the elephant in the room: Creek is not a pleasant troll to date.

On one hand, Creek strives to present himself as a reasonable, enlightened voice that brings positive energy to the village. He enjoys the significance he holds and especially wants your respect. On the other hand, he uses this mask to hide his judgmental nature. He is well aware of his social status and takes advantage of it to behave inappropriately. Most trolls cannot comprehend the extent of his behavior which makes it all the easier to manipulate them. You must understand that you will not be the exception as his partner.

Creek will use dating you as a 'shield' to embolden his behavior even more. He's a well-liked troll with an interesting partner and has the Queen's favor as a friend acquaintance. Surely, a well-adjusted and repentant troll like Creek wouldn't cause any issues.

Confronting him on his behavior is draining, not because there is shouting or bickering between you, but because he maintains his calm and refuses to acknowledge anything. He patronizes you and then sidesteps any issue you bring up. He won't admit his wrongdoing or promise to improve, instead suggests that you're blowing things out of proportion. He insists that you should be content with your relationship and the special bond you both share.

Despite his glaring faults, you see glimpses of the troll you love underneath. When you're overwhelmed, Creek is always there to help you calm down and plan your next steps. If someone's intruding on your boundaries, he's present to redirect them without escalating the situation any further. He's not always willing to prioritize someone else's issues over his own desires, but he would try for you at least.

Makes it a point to tell you how much he loves you and how special you are to him every day. It is disgustingly sweet, especially to anyone who may be nearby to witness. Creek lavishes you with pet names, sappy proclamations, and over-the-top public displays of affection, especially whenever Branch is around. He grazes his soft hand along your cheek with a tender declaration of his adoration or brushes his forehead against yours as he greets you first thing in the morning.

It seems that Creek has an infinite supply of affectionate nicknames just for you. These names can either make you blush with delight or annoy you to no end. Although he could simply use your real name, he prefers calling you 'Angel', 'Darling', or 'Sweetheart' as these names more accurately reflect his feelings for you. Your adorable reactions only encourage him to use them more often.

He writes songs and poems about you to express how you make him feel or reminisce about the memories you've made together. He surprises you by performing an emotional ballad at sunset, singing about how your beautiful eyes meeting his makes his heart skip a beat. Though he would never admit it, when he was held captive by Chef, those poems and songs helped him maintain his sanity.

You're both known to the village as a pair of lovebirds, despite Creek's difficult personality traits and your immense patience. It comes as a surprise when one of you announces the end of the relationship, usually accompanied by tears. Creek appears unfazed as he continues to run his meditation/yoga classes and engage in village events. He tells anyone who asks that the break-up was mutual, though you were more emotional than he. It's only partially true, he was more dumbfounded than he'd like to admit. Once you start moving on, he becomes secretly anxious and slinks his way back into your life before someone else can. It's no surprise when you're both back together within a week.

Underneath all the enlightenment chatter, manicured appearance, and insincere behavior, Creek is insecure about his place in the world and his community. He wants to control what others think of him and prove his worth to secure his position. You can constantly assure him with words, actions, and gifts, but until he feels secure in himself, it won't make any difference. To Creek, this isn't a problem; he'll just do whatever it takes to keep you around - morality be damned. He deserves happiness as much as any other troll.

Creek has included you in his yoga classes, claiming that he wants to "maintain your enchanting aura". Depending on the difficulty of the regimen, he either treats you as his top-performing student to praise and use as an example or his problematic student who needs additional attention. Despite the playful banter and flirtation, he maintains a professional demeanor in front of others. However, private classes are an entirely different matter.

Private classes for you and him are usually held at his place, where he has the necessary equipment, or out in the forest where he's previously found a quiet spot. The sessions start with some light banter, stretching, and warm-ups, followed by vocal affirmations, until Creek decides that your form is in desperate need of coaching. He starts with gentle sweeps along your limbs and then to more sensitive areas as he guides you into position. He flirts unabashedly with you, using honeyed words and heated glances to gauge your interest before nudging things further. It's a fun game to see how far you can both go.

Let him put his mouth to work on you, Creek is talented at more than just talking. He's obsessed with teasing you, his nimble fingers soothing your heat with languid motions as he watches you with eager, hungry eyes. Plead with him to give you the release you so desperately need, his tongue is dying to taste you.

Creek takes great pleasure in denying your orgasm, causing you frustration to the point of tears. Seeing those pretty streams down your cheeks as you hold back your sobs while he grinds agonizingly slow into you. You can ask him to speed up, but why should he? The turmoil painting your face is sweeter than he could have imagined.

You'll have to let Creek take control when it's time to play, he gets resistant if you try to imply that you want to take the lead. When he's in charge, it's never in an expected 'dominant' way. Instead, it's about using his words and your body's reactions to break you down into an absolute mess. Doesn't it feel good to shut off everything else and let Creek make you happy?

It takes so long to coax Creek to allow you to be dominant, skinning back layers of excuses and bitter self-reflection. He's hesitant to have you hold the reins and to just let himself relax. He's more afraid of the sentiment he may not be enough, especially if isn't able to do it himself. Like most situations with Creek, it will take a lot of patience and communication to ease his mind - and he'll never truly be at ease.

Once he discovers how relinquishing control feels, he's nearly appalled by how his treacherous body is responding to you. You praise him as you hover above him, murmuring to him about how he's doing "such a good job" and that he's your "good boy" as your hands ghost lower and lower. Creek is aghast that he isn't disgusted by this, telling himself to just flip you over and demonstrate how it's really done. All that guttural and depraved keening surely isn't coming from his mouth. Afterward, he can't deny that loss of control frightens him, but it's just so…erotic too.

This troll is both a grower - and it shows. Those low-waisted yellow sweats do little to 'hide' his sheath and he is well aware.

#bruce trolls x reader #guy diamond trolls x reader #creek trolls x reader #trolls x reader #headcanons #anon

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cosmictapestry · 11 months ago

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hiiiii i’m ayla and i’m dreamofthemaidenless’s mom!!! i’m having a great time with the blog and i know you guys are too, so i’ve just got a couple little things to ask of you guys so we can all keep having fun!!!

please keep in mind that there is a real person behind the blog!!! obviously i have a very raunchy sense of humor but i do get uncomfortable with some of the more overtly sexual/admiring/romantic asks i get. just ask yourself if what you’re about to send might scare a very very very paranoid creature of some sort.

dreamofthemaidenless is an aspect of dream who is erratic, unpredictable, incomprehensible, and seemingly incompetent. nothing he does or says is intended to be sexy. he’s weird and gross

i do not like hob gadling, find him interesting, or ship dreamling. any asks about him will be answered dismissively

we’re following show chronology, so try not to ask about events that happen later in the comics. there are obvious exceptions, like the corinthian still being here. lore and events that happened earlier but haven’t been revealed in the show are absolutely fair game

if you submit or tag dreamofthemaidenless in fanart, he will only post/reblog it if it’s directly related to him or to a post he’s made. fanart is tagged #depiction. you can absolutely send me fanart over here on my main and i’d be happy to post it

i write morphienne erotica. if you even care

i might add to this at any time. if you have any questions shoot me (not dream) an ask thank youuuuuu

#the sandman #dream of the endless

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cheriekos · 2 months ago

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Hiiiii, this is a snippet of a SuperBat Hanahaki AU I wrote up - it’s a bit weird and I don’t really know if I’ll go forward with this. It’s in Poison Ivy’s POV (lmao don’t ask me how I got here) and I LOVE this but I think I would have to go with a different version of the story I want to write if I keep this. So I’m posting this here for posterity and whatnot and I’ll probably re-write aspects of this into an existing project later. This has been lightly edited and is not beta’d. Enjoy!

Ivy doesn't get a lot of visitors. She gets plenty of wayward children and adrenaline-seeking teenagers that really liked to push the limits on her patience and graciousness. However, that plea deal she made with the city kept her a short, short fucking leash. And despite how easy it is to flick her wrist, send thorns and vines and venom towards intruders and disrespectful punks - she likes having the greenhouse. She likes keeping Robinson Park evergreen and yes, her sordid, traitorous heart was kept alight when she saw the young kids of Gotham gently step over tree roots and gaze in awe at her azaleas. That all being said - she's not quite a people person. And most people aren't approaching her unless they have a masochistic streak running through them.

"Ivy," grunts out the too familiar voice.

Ivy has a running theory that the Batman was, indeed, one of those people with said masochistic streak.

"Whatever mystery you're solving, I have no part in it," Ivy drawls, gently misting a particularly sad looking plant. She frowns. "You can check with your little Oracle - I'm sure she can scrounge up the camera footage somewhere. I've only been in my greenhouse."

"I'm here on business."

"And I just told you - I had no part of that business," Ivy says, sharper. The plant - the Passions Vine, maypop, Passiflora incarnata - begins to bloom anew beneath her fingertips. "You can't implicate me in anything."

"I wasn't planning on it," He says, with a strange lilt to his voice. Her ears twitch.

She turns, only slightly, in order to look at him. He's as imposing as ever, more of a shroud of inky darkness than a man. The white of his lenses and the faint curve of his pale jaw the only real visible parts of him in the dim greenhouse, especially in the shadows where he liked to linger. It's a familiar sight, which gives her a faint burst of nostalgia. How disgusting.

"Here on business, but not here to drag me off to Arkham?" She hums. "Color me intrigued. Do make it quick, though, you're interrupting my bedtime routine."

He only grunts. Ivy rolls her eyes, wondering how earth she found herself at the beck and call of this wretched creature. He finally steps under the blinking overhead light, awash in an orange glow. Without a word, he raises an upturned fist. When she arches a brow, he slowly unfurls his palm.

Three petals. Yellow, slim, long - flecked with blood. Helianthus annuus.

"Sunflower petals," Ivy remarks. Her eyes dart up to him. "But you already knew that."

"Yes," He says simply.

"Well, what do you need me for then?" Ivy asks, disdain coloring her tone.

"These were collected from an individual who appeared to have an upper respiratory infection," He says. "All the symptoms of a standard viral infection were present - sneezing, coughing, congestion. After five days of a normal course of cold medicine, symptoms began to evolve that indicated a lower respiratory infection. After three days of worsening symptoms -"

"Get to the point."

"The individual eventually coughed up these petals."

"...Excuse me?"

"The individual coughed up -"

"I heard you right the first time," Ivy puts her hand up. "But what in the world could cause that to happen?"

He curls his palm again, arm disappearing underneath his cape once more. "That is why I'm here."

Ivy blinks. "You thought I would know something about lower respiratory infections?"

"I assumed that, perhaps, in your tenure as an ecological terrorist, that this is a phenomenon you may have come across." He says, dryly.

"I can't tell if you're trying to be funny or not."

He just hums. "Can you tell me anything about this?"

Ivy stares, one part dumbfounded, and another part itching with the familiar sensation that comes with a near encyclopedic knowledge of plants and the urge to know and be right. How dreadful that the remnants of a competitive, perfectionist PhD student still lived within her bones somewhere.

"One moment," She says, and turns on her heel.

He waits, patient, like one of the city's many faithful gargoyles. She sits on a sturdy leaf with a little thank you and calls other vines to bring her old books out to her workshop table. She flips through a folder with old articles on diseases and infections, but that path is not fruitful. She skims a textbook, a section on herbal medicine and quickly shoves it away with a dissatisfied as another set of vines brings out her laptop and lab instruments.

Her eyes shoot to him. "Come here."

He moves, like shadow, like a piece of the night come alive. He hovers by the edge of the table, a curious tilt to his head. If she had any little bit of affection left, she would consider it adorable - he seemed like one of the many fruit bats that tried to nibble at her gardens.

"The petals." She holds out a glass microscope dish.

He shifts, then stops abruptly; there's an odd strain to his already grim face. If she hadn't known any better, she would've guessed he was hesitating. But the moment passes; he gently places the petals in her dish.

She adjusts the microscope, taking note of the regular aspects of the petals - protrusions she notes that are pollen tubes, the very odd cell structures - and briefly examines the blood specks. When she lingers too long on that aspect, her impromptu lab partner grunts disapprovingly.

"Do you have a problem?" Ivy asks, not taking her eyes off the microscope.

"Are they any irregularities with these petals?"

Ivy taps a green finger against the table. "Well, since you mentioned it - yes."

With a great of amount of self-convincing, she vacates her spot and gestures to the microscope. She can't tell what his eyes are doing under the mask but the air around him seems to fill with a general distrust. He looks into the microscope anyways; while he does, she motions for a come to pluck a petal off her own sunflower.

"Thank you for your service," She says to the little petal, and puts it into another dish. "The sunflower is a dicot, which means there are a number of expected cells within its makeup."

She switches the bloody petals for the standard one.

"Parenchyma cells, epidermal cells, xylem and phloem," Ivy waves her hand. "Things you would've learned in your elementary science class."

"However?" He prompts.

"However," She slides the bloody petals back in. "There is a mutation within these cell structures."

"Elaborate."

"Don't make a fuss, I'm getting there," Ivy says, as if speaking to an impatient toddler. "Patience is a virtue, you know."

Once more, he grunts.

"Do you see the spiraling vessel next to the xylem? They look almost identical. The difference, however -"

"This one is filled with blood."

"Not quite like a photosynthetic plant to absorb blood."

"What does this indicate?"

"Right now? Nothing," Ivy turns to her laptops and begins a new file dedicated to this particular sunflower petal. "I don't have a definite answer for you on what this is or what it means - or why your little friend is coughing up petals."

He grunts - one of the ones that clearly signals his dissatisfaction. "How soon can we know what exactly this is?"

"You'll know when I know - which is whenever I feel like it."

"This could be life threatening, Ivy," He says, urgency in his tone. She could scoff; everything was so urgent with him. Now or never. Save the city, save the world and all that bullshit. "I'd advise you to not waste time."

"Yeah?" Ivy puts her chin in the palm of her hand. "I'd advise you to take that stick out your ass."

"Ivy -" He stops abruptly. He takes in a deep breath and lets it out in a world-weary kind of way that makes him seem less like a statuesque figure of nightmares - and something more like an old man. She blinks.

"What would it take for you to...prioritize this?"

Let me out and let me raze the world in order to stare anew - and then that stupid, awful little voice that sounds suspiciously like Dr. Leland's comes in to grab her gently and say 'what can you change in front of you, right now?'

"Harley is out, but she's not allowed within Robinson Park," Ivy says. "Change the details of her pardon."

"You know I can't do that -"

"Bullshit," Ivy hisses, hands slamming against the table - and she feels it. The edges of her vision going green, how the smell of the poison in the very stems of the plants around her are present, how she could send the thorns of rose flying at his throat. How hungry her fly-eaters were for blood. It would be so easy. So easy.

"Aw, sugarplum, just think of all the good things when the green gets too big! The smell of roses, lavender, or um...um - I dunno much about flowers. Or maybe me! I'm as comfortin' as a daisy, aren't I?"

She breathes out. Slowly.

It would be easy. Getting freedom was not.

"That's all I ask," Ivy says, voice strained. "Just - let me see her. Somehow."

He stands so still. It's irritating. She despises this - how desperate she feels, all the power he has, and the embarrassment of it all. There was a time when she would send him flying to the rafters, wrapped in her vines. The poisons, the toxins, the pollens - all of her knowledge and power dedicated to trying to knock down the immovable force that was the Batman. And now here she was. Bargaining with him in order to see the woman she loved. Pitiful.

He shifts. His hand hovers in the air between them and she feels an edge of paranoia curl at the back of her mind. But then his hand settles, lightly, with his fingertips gently brushing her hand. It's...surprisingly gentle.

"I will see what I can do," He says. "

For a moment, Ivy thinks she can see his eyes. Behind the glare of those lenses, she thinks there's a human somewhere, underneath all of this. It makes something curl uncomfortably in her gut. But as soon as the moment has come, it is gone - and his hand is back beneath his cape. He's just a figure, a piece of the night, and the blight upon her existence. Familiar.

She doesn't say thank you. She already doesn't like how much of her current existence is in due part to his relentless crusade against violence - and the repeating, endless cycle of it. She doesn't want to admit that within the many hands trying to pull her away from her endless spiral downwards, his was amongst them.

She just juts her chin out, vines curling around her shoulders. "Scram, Bats. I've got work to do."

For once, he decides to take the normal way out. She watches, intently, as he makes his way to the greenhouse door, and without so much as a look back her way, disappears into the night. When she finally turns away, back to her work bench, the blood specked petals are gone.

#superbat #superbat fanfiction #superbat fic #poison ivy #fic writing #writing progress #like hanakai AU without my passive aggressive plant genius????#I think it’s a missed opportunity #But this makes me want to do something more Ivy focused…..eyes emoji #Once again…acting very active for a person who said they were gonna be inactive lmaooooo #Tag edit: atrocious that all I’ve done is post SuperBat wips in the tag and say I’m not coming back to them…silly behavior

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expectiations · 2 months ago

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*rolls into your asks* Any thoughts on my headcanon where the Doctor is the fun parent while River is the strict one, mainly cause she's scared of f-ing up their adoptive kids(I say adoptive because River had adopted many kids so far. And because I can't really see River and the Doctor having a biological child, the whole "River and the Doctor have a kid on Darillium" doesn't stick with me because of plotholes) cause she REALLY doesn't wanna end up raising them like they raised her(which was shit). (P:S: You're my favourite Doctorriver poster so I love you<3 Also love you even more because you're a fellow pinoy like me, so sana okay ka lang lagi and keep doing your amazing work!<3)

OMG?!!! OMG!!!! EYYYYY KABABAYAN!!! OMG A FELLOW FILO DOCTORRIVER FAN???? HIIIII!!!!!!!

okay haha pardon me but it's not every day I meet a fellow Filo AND a DoctorRiver fan to boot

so erm let me see. Initially yeah I agree. Doctor = fun; River = strict. But at the same time, I'm also taking into account their different regenerations? Like yeah it's still the Doctor but their personalities do differ a bit here and there.

Honestly I feel like they're *both* strict/protective af while also cool and fun too. Like 11 for example. He's goofy af but can also turn all Oncoming Storm the next. (Do keep in mind that my headcanons are a huge part of this.)

Erm also for the DoctorRiver Darillium kid, I personally hc that 12river were sneaky af and stretched their time together. So they may *technically* have spent 24 Earth years on Darillium *but* they could easily have gone off world, perhaps off to the next planet or something. I find that not impossible, especially with River driving (sorry not sorry Doctor lol). I mean she gets her perfume from time locked Gallifrey for goodness sake.

I feel like I'm betraying something or someone when I say this (lol) but after much rumination, they both believed Darillium to be the last time they'd see each other. And while I'm also a *huge* advocate for time tots, it does seem kinda cruel to have a kid only to leave them in a few years.

Anyways, whether time tots existed on Darillium or not, I know for certain River was pregnant during the events of The Impossible Astronaut/Day of the Moon. I also firmly believe that when River tells him who she is in A Good Man Goes To War and 11 took a peek at the cradle that it was like a family tree of sorts? I may be wrong but Alex has certainly hinted time and time again that time tots other than her were in that cot (cradle?).

Wait why have I gotten to this topic 😭😂

The Doctor is good with playtime and storytime, while River is strict with what they eat (vegetables are not bad, Doctor. stop telling our kid that. *proceeds to give him death stare and if her hands weren't full with the time tot, his beloved bow tie would have been round his neck by now*) and their sleeping schedules.

The Doctor loves teaching their kid about space while River loves taking the little one to expeditions. Don't worry, their stroller/baby backpack (or whatever that baby sling that's like a backpack is called) has *lots* of protection stuff. Also there's like a homing beam(??) that'll immediately send said time tot to materialize in the TARDIS no matter their location and she will also go immediately to where her Water is <3 (love love love when the TARDIS goes all mama bear for River. their relationship is so under explored)

The Doctor will glare menacingly at any suitor while River looks chill (actually she already knows *everything* about said suitor).

They do try so so hard at being parents. And they certainly *are* good parents. But they're also flawed. So there are mistakes bound to happen along the way. *But* they're also the Doctor and River Song and they'll get through it together. Just like they always have.

#EY KABABAYAN #ang haba ng yapping sesh lol #idk if i've made myself comprehensible but i tend to go off on multiple tangents with doctorriver AND so much more especially when—#—time tots are brought into the picture #doctorriver headcanons #doctor who #river song #the doctor #doctorriver #doctor x river #yowzah #otp: time and space #time baby #I HOPE I MADE SENSE 😅😭

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yinyuedijun · 2 months ago

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hiiiii i have not read or seen windbreaker my only interactions with it are bc some of my moots r into it now so ive read some fics and i saw tokyo vice on my dash and i was really pulled in by the summary so i read both parts and sincerity and the little prequel piece and oh my god it’s so good. i love the humor, the narrative voice is so witty. suo’s character is so intriguing bc as much as the reader loves and knows him there’s still so much going on that we can only guess at and i felt like that was communicated really well. i enjoyed the fact that sincerity and the prequel let us see their relationship at a different time and how we got to where they are in the present. im really interested in the reader and i felt like u did such a good job of weaving in the comedy to make some of her internal dialogue more lighthearted while still developing her emotional state really well. plus the smut was insane like 11/10 no notes. when the reader said she was excited for pussy inspections >>> like fuck yea me too!!! but anyways i loved the details we learn about her and how her fantasy is have really mundane romantic and vanilla sex. it really speaks to just how fucked up her life has been to the point where her biggest romantic dream is just to have regular sex with the man she loves. like ugh the angst interspersed with the comedy and smut was just chef's kiss. AND THAT ENDING??? WHEN HE THINKS SHE'S ASLEEP. like that did tug at my heartstrings especially when he talked about what their old friends think of him :(( and how if he was a better man he'd let her go. i read another organized crime x civilian fic for a different fandom a few years ago and it ended with the civilian person leaving his partner/his partner letting him go bc the deeper the partner he got into organized crime the more unhinged he became and how his mental state began affecting the civilian. thats a really condensed way of explaining but the events were crazy and it had me crying and screaming every chapter but that's something that ive never seen in other yakuza/gang/organized crime aus so i thought it was really cool to see how that is something that suo thinks about and has to come to terms with now that its been a few years and he can look back at his behavior.

but anyways i really really loved it and im gonna watch/read windbreaker as soon as i can now :)) so thank u for the wonderful fic 🙂‍↕️ and is tokyo vice over? i dont think i saw a completed tag on it on ur masterlist so i wanted to ask if u were leaving the world open

ANONNN I LOVE U SO MUCH TRULY THANK YOU!! 🥹 tokyo vice was an absurd self-indulgent project so I'm so very happy you gave it a shot despite not being into wbk!!! I must confess that it's wildly different from canon LOL but I do adore the canon series nevertheless, and I hope you enjoy it :-) (let us know if you do!!!)

I can't thank you enough for sending such juicy feedback abt tokyo vice, especially about the reader! I did find it somewhat stressful trying to balance the comedy of her narration with the horny and angsty and deranged events of the plot, so I'm glad that you liked that aspect of the fic !!! 🥹 and yeah despite all the comedy, she really is a traumatized meow meow. but it's okay, she can now have the normal sex of her dreams with the love of her life - as long as she can survive 4 months of orgasm denial before their wedding 😭

and LOL I love yandere charas with self-awareness so in general I love writing arcs where they love the reader enough to understand that they should let them go. the plot you're describing is sooooo up my alley and I think suo would absolutely have that thought process if the reader were even remotely mentally normal. unfortunately she is equally insane. I guess that is the tragedy of it for suo - he knows that he can never get better, and he also knows that as long as they are together, she can never get better either. fortunately for him, she could not care less ♥️

I do think tokyo vice is complete, but I do want to finish that sakura wip at some point and also write about suo and mc's sex life after they get together (which is very nasty premaritally and then really vanilla and emotional on their wedding night). I want to finish this kitsune suo pwp first though and finish my ffg commitments too 😭

anyway sorry for yapping so much HAHAH I'm just so happy that you commented on all these aspects of the fic!! thank you for reading and for sending such a wonderful ask 🥺💗

#yueshuo.asks #asks.anon

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celestie0 · 4 months ago

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aaaaaa chapter 3 of IHM was soooo good!!! Reader and Gojo’s banter is so funny, I just love stories, series and movies where the main characters can’t stand each other and fall in love without even noticing! Their relationship reminds me a lot from the main couple in the movie “Life as we know it”. Omg poor reader when dealing with Choso, the other cop PLUS her neighbors! And the way everyone is so nosy and suspicious, I feel like more awkward situations about their sudden marriage are about to come. These cringe encounters are everything 😂😂😂 The little detail where reader reminds Gojo to strengthen his collar before he leaves was the sweetest, cutest thing! I absolutely love how reader meets part of the family all at once, it was so adorable. And Mama Gojo is amazing, I already love that woman! Does she believe in energy, crystals and all these things? The way she literally hugged reader and declared she would bring luck to their family was soooo sweet!!! This fic is definitely the found family trope!!! And little Juno calling us auntie? My heart just melted right then and there! i relate to reader in the sense that she feels overwhelmed and terrified at the thought of having another family now that she’s married to Gojo. I am close only to my mom, dad and brother, and completely ceased contact with my family from my father’s side of the family. What I mean is, family is difficult, so I’m excited to see how reader will navigate this new chapter of her life, since when you marry someone, it’s like you marry their whole family by association. I hope the rude comments and asks you’ve received straight up demanding smut in all your fics don’t discourage you from continuing writing and posting your lovely stories!!! Unfortunately this always happens, people only care about what they want to see and completely disregard the author’s feeling and efforts. Thank youuu so so so much for writing real stories, with a real build up which only makes the romance between the main characters more genuine and worth in the end! I am absolutely awed by all your writings. I genuinely hope the rudeness you’ve been receiving from the fandom won’t keep you from doing what you love. Of course, if you feel like taking a break from all this toxicity, take all the time you need, Ellie my love! We’ll still be here whenever you drop a new chapter and/or story! Again, thank you for the PERFECT chapter! Sending you lots of hugs! Hope that you have a great week!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

HIIIII my love omg thanks u sm for this ask :’’) so glad to see you enjoyed ch3!! and yes omg when they hate each other but then suddenly realize that they’re in love w each other <333 SUPERIOR TROPE. and hahah glad you’re enjoying the cringe encounters xD i get anxiety writing cringy scenes but like you just gotta embrace the cringeee. especially since ihm is kind of just suburban love story, we’ve all had those super embarrassing moments w our neighbors n coworkers etc etc so i’m tryna include those scene where i can

omg found family!! that’s so cute. maybe i should add that to tags haha. yea the collar scene was cute to write bc it was like something an actual wife would do xD and yes omg i can see gojo’s mother believing in the crystals n stuffs!! she’s an eccentric woman but overall i think she’s very kind

thank you for your insights on family, that is so true. when you marry someone, you marry their whole family too. and that can be hard to navigate, especially when you’re so used to being around just one person (in reader’s case, her mother) and then suddenly having to acclimate to new people. i’m so glad you can see yourself in her (i’m the same way, only keep in touch w my immediate family and hardly w my aunts/uncles/cousins on both sides for a lotta family drama reasons haha) and i’ve always felt frightened to expand my relations w ppl for that reason, but i think i find that it can be healing too.

thanks bb :(( yea if i’m being totally honest w you, i really was considering taking a big break from writing after responding to that ask. i felt it dwindled some of the passion for sure. but i feel really refreshed now and i’m feeling better hahaha it’s just i’m kinda dramatic 😂 you’re so sweet omg i could srs cry. so many digital hugs <33 i hope you have a WONDERFUL week too ♥️ ♥️

#imma squeeze you anon fr #in holy matriphony #asks #support

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cal-daisies-and-briars · 4 months ago

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Hiiiii i hope it’s okay that I’m submitting this not on a weekend but as always I’m haunted by your fics and want as much as you’re willing to give!

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸(ik this is a lot of emojis but i mean can you blame me i think this story has forever changed me - and I’m especially loving all the reunions!)

🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊(buck please learn that you’re lovable and that eddie loves you for you!)

🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨(established relationship! Don’t mind if i do! And i love how in any universe eddie can’t not keep the will a secret for a while)

🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮🦮(CRANBERRY MY BABY COME BACK TO ME)

⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️(PROPOSAL!!!! CAL YOU’RE TOO GOOD TO ME!!!)

🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮🔮(this visiting each others childhoods thing is so intriguing! Can’t wait to see what scenes you’ve thought up!)

You’re my favoritest person and i already love everything you write in response to this! Thanks for sharing!!

TOTALLY OKAY THANK YOU!!!

81 for 🩸(AHH THANK YO!!!!):

---

Eddie is quiet when they leave May’s apartment. Buck understands why. It’s a lot to process. The knowledge, fresh from the CDC, that he might just collapse at any moment and wake up healed. How there is a path forward to getting his life back, but not one he can choose to take or even line himself up for. It’s cruel, really. Buck feels the cruelty of it, so he can’t imagine how much worse that is for Eddie.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Buck asks during the drive.

“Honestly? Not really.” Eddie sighs. “Like Athena said, until there are legal protections put in place, nothing changes.”

Buck nods. “Sorry.”

I’m sorry, but I will keep you safe. I will protect you. Keep letting me.

“Is there anything I can do?” Buck asks. “I know today has been heavy.”

Eddie thinks on it for a second.

“Can we not go home yet?”

“S-sure,” Buck says, surprised. “Is there something you want to do?”

Eddie shrugs. “Not really. I just… I just don’t want to go back to the house just yet. I want to… Can you and I just stay out longer?”

“Of course,” Buck says. “Yeah, let’s… Let’s just drive.”

“Thank you,” Eddie mutters.

Buck takes an exit that sends them southwest. In the opposite direction of home. Towards the water. Eddie starts fiddling with Buck’s CarPlay, finding a playlist of Buck’s that they used to listen to on drives. He’s the only person in the world, besides Chris, who he lets touch his music settings when driving. He keeps the volume low, then slumps back in the passenger seat, eyes drifting shut.

An entire Fleetwood Mac song plays. Buck struggles to focus on the road, eyes keep flicking to Eddie’s still voice, ears filled music.

So I close my eyes softly, till I become that part of the wind…

Buck can’t help the shaky exhale that escapes his lungs. It’s easy to forget that this is real. Really Eddie, in front of him. That he’s not going to disappear into mist. Buck has to keep himself from tracing the lines of Eddie’s profile with his eyes, so they don’t accidentally swerve into oncoming traffic.

Eddie doesn’t say anything again until Stevie Nicks is done signing about tracking ghosts through the fog.

“I can’t bank on this Spontaneous Elimination shit,” is what he says as the playlist switches to something a bit more modern.

“No.” Buck answers, because it’s the truth. He shouldn’t sugar coat it.

But…

“But they’re looking for other cures,” he reminds Eddie.

Eddie nods, still not opening his eyes.

“Accessing that would probably mean coming forward about my, uh, condition. Medical records. Paper trails.”

“There is that,” Buck agrees.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says. “For all of it, Buck.”

“You don’t have to be sorry, Eddie.” Buck shakes his head. He feels frustrated. This isn’t Eddie’s fault. “I told you already I know what happened wasn’t your-”

“Not for that,” Eddie interrupts. He pauses, finally opening his eyes. “Well, yeah. Okay, that’s part of it. But more for what’s still left.”

“What do you mean?” Buck asks.

“This whole mess. It just keeps going. I can never get my life back, I don’t think.” He explains. “And so I need you, I’m dependent on you, and I’m sorry that that means your life is… Less, I guess, than it might have been.”

Buck sighs. Fuck.

---

30 for 🌊 (ALMOST DONE THIS ONE! And he is learning it!):

---

“That makes sense,” Buck says“How can we make it quieter?” Buck asks, the thrum of his voice tickling the back of Eddie’s neck.

“I don’t know,” Eddie admits. “I think now that things are calm, I’m mentally catching up.”

. “It’s been a crazy few days.”

“Sure has,” Eddie agrees. “And I guess… Okay, don’t take this the wrong way.”

He really doesn’t need any more misinterpretations coming out of this bed.

“O-okay,” Buck answers nervously.

“I think it’s actually sinking in that you’re here and I didn’t mess things up irreparably.” Eddie admits.

“Oh,” Buck whispers. He squeezes Eddie a little tighter. “Well very few things can’t be fixed, right?”

“I don’t know.” Eddie replies. “That’s not always been my experience.”

“Mine either, but…” Buck trails off, thinking. He presses a kiss to the back of Eddie’s neck. “Maybe it’s different for us.”

“Oh yeah?” Eddie asks. “Why is that?”

“I’m not saying we don’t have to work on stuff, or whatever. Our own crap.” Buck clarifies.

---

42 for 🚨 (yesss Eddie's gonna sit on it for a minute):

---

Eddie holds his breath.

“Okay,” Chris says after a moment. “That’s good.”

Eddie hears Buck exhale.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks.

“So you just decided?” Chris asks, brows furrowed. “Like you decided Buck is your boyfriend now?”

Eddie isn’t sure what’s confusing him.

“Uh, yes,” he answers. What’s he gonna say? He almost died and then they had sex? Definitely not.

Christopher’s eyes widen in alarm. “Can that happen? Somebody just says you are their boyfriend now?”

“Oh, buddy. No,” Buck jumps to assuage these fears. “We talked about it. It’s what we both want.”

“Oh,” Chris says. “Phew. Because Linnea Templeton keeps following me around at recess and I don’t want her to decide I’m her boyfriend.”

Eddie tries not to laugh. “Okay, well she can’t do that, Chris. If she’s bugging you, let’s talk to your teacher, alright?”

“Alright,” Chris agrees.

“Do you have any questions for Buck and I?” Eddie asks.

Christopher considers.

“I don’t know,” he asks. “Are you going to get married?”

Buck coughs a little.

“Oh, well…” Eddie looks at Buck, cheeks heated. “I think it’s too soon to know.”

“Why?” Chris asks.

“Those things usually take some time,” Buck replies.

“Like how much?” Chris presses.

What the fuck, kid?

---

21 for 🦮 (she's almost ready!):

---

Maybe there’s a difference between mourning what he lost and denying himself a future he likes. He’s not sure he trusts it. But maybe.

“Thanks for hanging out with me today, Chris,” Buck says. “Cranberry and I are pretty lucky to have you as a friend.”

Chris grins. “You’re welcome!”

“Your dad is going to be jealous that he had to spend all day getting soaked out there helping people while we had fun,” Buck says.

Chris laughs. “He should play hooky from work sometimes.”

“Pfft, yeah. Who wants to go to work?”

🦮🦮🦮

It’s close to midnight by the time Eddie gets home. Chris is sleeping in bed with the door propped open. Cranberry is curled up at the foot of his bed. Buck had meant to keep her out with him so she doesn’t wake him if she is alerted by Eddie walking through the door. But Chris had weaponized some pretty intense begging eyes when he asked to sleep with her. What was Buck supposed to do?

Eddie looks exhausted and smells like sea water and sweat. “Thank you so much,” he says to Buck. “I seriously owe you.”

---

63 for ⚡️ (HELL YEAH A PROPOSAL):

SPOILERS AHEAD

---

“He will say yes,” Maddie replies easily. “Which I think you must already know. Otherwise the tone of this conversation would be very different.”

Buck smirks. “I think he’ll say yes.”

“Do you have a ring yet?” Maddie asks. “Are you doing a ring?”

“No,” Buck says. “I mean, yes, I want to do a ring. No, I don’t have one.”

“Do you want help shopping?” Maddie offers.

“Yeah, I would. I’d love that, actually.” Buck grins. “But there’s someone else I think I need to bring, too. Just gotta tell him first.”

☆☆☆

Eddie goes to the person he always goes to when he’s not sure what’s in his head, after Buck. Because he can’t exactly take this to Buck. He goes to Bobby.

He won’t lie. He does have some reservations about bringing this to Bobby. Not that he thinks Bobby would steer him wrong. More like, it feels a bit less like going to a confidant for advice, and something closer to asking a father for blessing to marry his child. And, honestly? Maybe there is some of that here. But mostly, Eddie sincerely wants Bobby’s take.

It is surprisingly easy for Eddie to go to Bobby without arousing curiosity in Buck. Like, Buck is almost eager for him to be out of the house?

“I need to help Pepa with some yard work,” Eddie announces, like a liar, the night before a day off. “I was thinking of going tomorrow afternoon. Are you good with Chris for the day?”

He is ready to have to say, no, Buck, I don’t need your help. I can go alone. Because it is so very like Buck to offer to help.

Except, this time, he does no such thing.

“Sure! Have fun,” Buck grins. “Say hi to Pepa for me. Chris and I will probably go out for dinner, so stay as long as you need.”

Well, okay.

So Eddie leaves the next day to Buck thrusting an extra-large reusable water bottle in his hand and practically ushering him out the door. He knows Chris and Buck have fun one-on-one without him, but damn. Trying not to feel at all sore about it, he drives to Bobby’s.

Eddie did not ask Bobby if he could drop in on him and trouble him with his nuptial questions. Bobby mentioned he had no plans for their four-off, and Eddie just kind of takes advantage of that intel.

“Eddie,” Bobby greets him with a smile. “What’s up? Everything okay?”

“I was kind of hoping to talk about something sort of serious,” Eddie says. “If now is an okay time?”

“Sure,” Bobby frowns. “No transfer papers I hope?”

That fun old inside joke. Jesus. Though does he have to transfer if they get married? Is it, like, an extra conflict of interest?

“Ha, no.” Eddie chuckles awkwardly. “Definitely not.”

“Good. Then come on in,” Bobby lets him through the door. “What’s going on?”

---

27 for 🔮 (thank you so much!):

---

Has Bobby been sent here to change Maddie’s future? That seems insane and random, but who is he to say? Who is he to question it? He has to, at the very least, try.

So Bobby walks up to the edge of the driveway, in plain view of the van, and calls out to her.

“Excuse me!” He tries. “Maddie Buckley?”

Nothing. Maddie doesn’t turn. Buck doesn’t turn. In the van, Doug doesn’t turn.

Interesting.

“Maddie!” He shouts, a little louder.

Nada.

Bobby walks over and knocks on the side of the van. He can feel and hear it, but no one seems to notice. He picks up a stone on the ground and tosses it up the driveway, landing a foot away from the porch. No one sees.

Okay. Okay, so Bobby is just a passenger here. He’s just meant to watch.

In the van, Doug rolls his eyes and gives a little honk. The absolute ass. Maddie tenses on the porch.

“I have to go, Evan,” she says.

#daisies and briars writes #long death fic #if you can make the music fic #any other way fic #buck service dog fic #things we're all too young to know fic #weary memory fic

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