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lasatfat · 1 month ago

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Aisling Lavellan Makes Her Mark

DADWC info | @dadrunkwriting

“Oh, Aisling! No!”

Athim’s cry of despair sends ice-cold fear shooting through Solas’ whole body. He drops his paintbrush, no doubt splattering the still-drying fresco with fresh scarlet, and steps to the edge of the scaffold. Little Aisling is standing beside the door to the main hall. She’s covered in…paint. Specifically, a burnt-orange paint he’d used for the Adamant scene is now plastered into her hair and onto her clothes and skin. He’d been so absorbed in his work, he hadn’t noticed her take it. Athim is standing in the doorway, and before Solas makes for the ladder, he watches her grip Aisling’s wrists from behind and pull her backwards, away from the wall. A wall now dotted with small handprints, smudges and simple doodles.

“Athim?” Dorian calls, from the floor above. “Is everything alright down there?”

“She’s fine, she just…” Athim trails off, sounding more exasperated now than anything else. As Solas crosses the rotunda to them, she turns the girl so that they face each other, and asks, “what possessed you to do this? Drawing on the walls!”

“Solas gets to draw on the walls!” says Aisling, indignantly, and Solas has to stifle a laugh.

“Decorate, da’len, Solas is decorating the walls,” Athim replies.

“They look like drawings to me,” Aisling protests. “And they’re huge! I only did little ones.”

Dorian chooses that moment to re-insert himself into the conversation. “The logic really is unassailable, Athim. Solas is drawing on the walls.”

Athim turns her head, and glowers up at him. “Helping or hurting, Dorian?”

“I like to think I do a little of both,” he responds, playfully.

“Trust me, you’re not right now!” she yells back, and he has the decency to look apologetic.

Solas touches her shoulder, lightly. “Vhenan, it’s alright. This can all be cleaned.”

“It’s not alright! It’s not, I…”

She looks Aisling over once again, despairing over the paint staining her clothes, smeared over her skin, and tangled in her hair. To his horror, she dips her head, and dissolves into quiet tears. “I just let go of her hand for a minute.”

Aisling doesn’t take this development well, either. She looks at Solas, as if trying to gauge exactly how to react, and when his reassuring smile is a little too late, she starts to cry herself. At much greater volume. He rests a gentle hand on the girl’s cheek, but he can’t wipe away her tears without risking smearing paint into her eyes. Still, he thinks he might understand it, now.

“Did you wander off, da’len?” She nods, and he smiles, kindly. “This fortress may protect us from attack, but it is far from safe for you to wander unattended,” he explains. “You must have worried your sister.”

“Yes, yes, I’m sure your little expedition left your dear sister quite beside herself.”

Dorian has hurried over, and now kneels on Athim’s other side, pulling a clean handkerchief from his pocket to dab at Aisling’s face. “But there’s no need for all this, is there?” he continues. “Speaking as someone who has caused his parents no end of trouble, I think this could be solved with a simple apology.”

Aisling sniffs, noisily. “Ir abelas, Athim,” she says.

“No, no, I’m sorry, Aisling,” Athim insists. “I should never have…I should have handled it better.”

The girl turns to Solas next. “Ir abelas, ha-en.”

“It’s alright, da’len,” he replies. “You have done nothing we cannot mend.”

“Well, now that’s out of the way, I shall go and run a bath for our budding artiste,” says Dorian, decisively. “I’m sure I have something that will take the paint out of your hair.”

“A simple cooking oil will do,” Solas interjects. When you work with paint for as long as he has, you learn how to clean it from the places it ought not be.

“Interesting. Another tidbit you gleaned from the Fade, I assume?”

“I wasn’t always bald,” Solas responds.

Dorian blinks, and opens his mouth as if he’d rather like to comment, but appears to decide better of it. “Remind me and we’ll talk about that later,” he says, and Solas makes a mental note to not. He scoops little Aisling into his arms, caring surprisingly little for the mess. “Come, sorellina, let’s get you cleaned up. Your brother has a lovely oak washtub you can try out.” As he carries her out of the room, he graciously lets her plant an orange handprint on his right cheek.

Solas helps Athim to her feet as they leave. “I’ll be up shortly,” she says. She manages a smile, and a wave, but as soon as Aisling is out of sight, her eyes well with fresh tears. “I lost her. I’m supposed to be taking care of her, and I…” Her hand covers her mouth, and her body heaves in another sob.

Solas has nothing he can use to dry her tears. Looking around, he only finds a rag he’d been using to clean his brushes. His clothes aren’t much cleaner, but she buries her face in his chest all the same, her strong hands gripping the back of his tunic.

He wraps his arms tight around her resting his cheek on the top of her head. “Vhenan, you are far from the first person to lose track of a child,” he says, softly. “You made a mistake. You will no doubt make many more. But Aisling is safe, and you are surrounded by people who are willing to help you both.” He pulls back, enough to meet her eye. “Take a moment, let the fear pass, then go to your sister. I will clean up here.”

Athim pulls in a deep breath, and blows it out through her mouth. “Thank you, Solas.” She stands on tiptoe to kiss his cheek, and leaves to follow Dorian.

Solas heads in the other direction. He retrieves soap, water, and fresh rags from the kitchens, and returns to the rotunda to begin the work of cleaning the wall.

#text #video games #dragon age #dai #da Solas #OC: Athim Lavellan #OC: Aisling Lavellan #Dorian Pavus #dADWC #Eddie writes #I wrote this instead of answering a prompt ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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quietwings-fics · 1 year ago

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tight-knit boys (brothers in more than name)

Rating: General Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Fandom: Supernatural Ship: Gen (Gabriel & Lucifer & Michael & Raphael) Additional Tags: Alternate Season/Series 01, Alternate Universe - Human, Human Michael (Supernatural), Human Gabriel (Supernatural), Human Raphael (Supernatural), Human Lucifer (Supernatural), Role Reversal, Siblings, Road Trips, Good Older Sibling Michael (Supernatural), Angst and Humor, Mild Hurt/Comfort Summary:

Finding their Dad is going to involve a lot of driving, and Michael does almost all of it. A snapshot of reverseverse archangels in the car.

“I spy with my li-”

“It’s corn,” Raphael interrupts, “like the last time and the time before that and the-

“Time before that!” Gabriel finishes for him. “Because there’s been nothing for the past three states except for corn!” He flops against the car door on his side. Michael absently makes sure the doors are all locked, even though he never starts driving without checking at least three times, the same way he looks over all of his siblings to see that they’ve put their seatbelts on.

“It hasn’t been states,” Michael tells his little brother. “We’re haven’t left Iowa yet.”

“It’s been hours!”

“Two hours.”

“Can’t you go faster?” Michael rolls his eyes, but he’s used to this. Gabriel might have been able to keep his mouth shut when Dad was driving them across the country, but he’d always gotten squirmy by the time he’d been locked in for an hour. Michael doesn’t mind hearing him complain. If nothing else, it passes the time.

“I’m going 70,” he says. He’d been going slower until thirty minutes ago when the car he’d been matching had pulled off onto an exit and left them alone on the open road. The road is smooth enough under his tires that Raphael can work in the backseat without any trouble. Michael peeks at him in the rearview mirror. His head is bent over one of the newspapers he picked up before they left the last motel. Michael can catch glimpses of his red marker running through different sections.

His hair is getting longer.

Maybe, more accurately, Michael has allowed it to get longer. He hasn’t offered to cut it because he knows Raphael would say yes and refuse to meet his eyes for the next hour when he was done.

He was happier with it growing out, and if their father would have thoughts about that, well… They’d have to find him first to know.

And they were no closer to that then when they started. Michael will admit that to himself, even if he’ll never tell his siblings about it.

“I spy-“ Raphael starts, the first time Michael’s heard him initiate the game this trip.

“Corn,” Gabriel grumbles.

“No,” Raphael says, and if Michael chances another look back, he can confirm that the note he can hear in his voice is a smirk. Gabriel sits up straighter and peers out the window.

“The road?” Raphael shakes his head, letting a sheet of newspaper slide down into the footwell when he’s done with it. “A bird? The sky? …A billboard?”

Lucifer takes that moment to snore, loudly. Michael resists the urge to poke him in the side and startle him awake. As funny as it might be to watch his brother flail and snort as he drags himself up to consciousness, Lucifer needs the rest. He barely sleeps when Michael isn’t driving, but deep down, he’s still the little kid who conked out at the first notes of a Rolling Stones album. Michael knows how to take care of him, even with their years apart existing as a wound they still haven’t completely stitched up.

He reaches across the bench to adjust the blanket he’d draped over Lucifer at the last rest stop. He draws it up to Lucifer’s collar. Sunlight dusts across his whole body, but the tint of the window will keep him from getting burnt if they drive for longer. One of his legs is scrunched up against the seat while the other sprawls onto the floor among half-empty water bottles. He’s got his arms and face smushed up between the door and the glass of the window in a way that’s going to leave him sore when he wakes up, but there aren’t any comfortable ways to sleep in the truck. At least, not with Raphael right behind him blocking his seat from tilting back too far.

Gabriel groans. “You can’t pick him!”

“I can see him,” Raphael argues. Lucifer snores again, unbothered by the bickering he’s the cause of. Michael adjusts his grip on the wheel and smacks his own cheek a few times to wake his brain back up. He should have drunk more coffee that morning. Raphael got to it first. He tries his best to keep his eyes on the road, but between the wavering illusions of false water scattered across the asphalt and the sound of his siblings sniping at each other in his ear, its difficult to keep himself on track. He has no idea how he used to manage this years back when he didn’t have the experience he does now. Dad didn’t let him take the cross-country hauls until he was eighteen.

Eighteen. Michael remembers being eighteen. He had his whole life ahead of him.

He’s twenty-six now. Raphael and Gabriel make him feel old.

He told Lucifer that once, and Lucifer looked at him like he was crazy. He’ll understand in four years. He’ll regret his wasted youth. Or not. Michael’s scattered thoughts briefly coalesce into something more bitter. Lucifer didn’t seem to regret anything he ever did, no matter how much the rest of them got hurt.

“Anything, or anyone, in the car is off-limits. That’s the whole point.” Michael shakes his head and focuses back in on the argument between his youngest brothers. I Spy is the most common game that’s been played in this truck, followed closely by 21 questions (Lucifer is reigning champion of that one) and everyone’s favorite, I Just Saw A Cow.“Pick something else.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know! Not Lucifer and not the corn.” Raphael glances out the window just in time to see what Michael swerves in the lane to avoid.

“There’s some roadkill.”

“Your face looks like roadkill,” Gabriel mutters. Raphael glares at him.

“I don’t have to play with you.” All of a sudden, Michael is sixteen again, and holding back a very irate Gabriel from trying to grab Raphael while Lucifer watched with amusement from the passenger seat and their father very pointedly didn’t interfere. Luckily, feuding ten year olds hadn’t been much of a problem to handle for a boy who’d been going on hunts for the past seven years. They might be older, but they still fight the same.

“Calm down, you two,” Michael says in the sternest voice he can manage. He likes to think he sounds like their father. It never seems to have the same effect, though.

“Or what, you’ll turn this car around?” Raphael huffs a tiny laugh at his brother’s words. Michael taps the steering wheel.

“I have plenty of gas, Gabriel. I can survive driving back through farmland for a few hours. Can you?”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Raphael, have you found any hunts yet?” Michael asks. Raphael kicks another sheet into the footwell.

“Nothing substantial.” With that, Michael smiles at Gabriel in the rearview mirror. His little brother scowls at him, but he settles back down against the car door.

Finally, peace and the thrum of a familiar tape. Michael breathes easy.

At least until Lucifer starts whimpering in his sleep.

Michael nearly swerves into the next lane. That sound is like a gunshot, pure pain and fear strangled out of his brother’s throat. Michael’s been tuned into it since Lucifer was a baby in his arms, and it makes his whole body go cold before he can pull the car back into the right lane and steady his driving out. A quick look in the backseat lets him know that Gabriel — who is not wearing his seatbelt like he should be — took that as an excuse to fall all the way across the seat until his head was in Raphael’s lap, cushioned by newspaper. Raphael doesn’t seem like he’s going to push him away.

Lucifer whimpers again. Michael’s hand shoots out across the bench to shake him awake.

“Lucifer,” he says gently. “Lucifer, shh. You’re alright, brother.”

“Maybe it’s just a wet dream,” Gabriel tries to joke, but his voice is small. He knows what this is. They all do. Michael is dreading what will happen when Lucifer’s eyes open, but he can’t leave his brother trapped in his own dreams. He shakes Lucifer again as the car wobbles to the right of the lane, enough for the wheels to bump along the side loudly and push Michael to fix it.

“Or a nightmare,” Raphael says, as quiet as his brother. He knows that Lucifer has always had his nightmares in dead silence, that fact alone betraying what was happening to him. Lucifer would toss and sniff and grunt in his sleep all unless he was having a bad dream, and then he was like a corpse, cold and still.

Michael shakes him again, and this time, Lucifer jolts and flinches away from Michael’s touch, his hands raising to protect himself from a blow that doesn’t come.

(Michael lifts his hand away, and Lucifer isn’t in the passenger seat but on the ground, eye already bruising and hands up to hide behind, Michael’s knuckles aching from the punch that he already regrets and won’t get a chance to apologize for before Lucifer tears himself out of their lives for years.

All Michael ever asked was for him to stay. Why did he have to fight so hard?

Why did Michael have to fight back?)

“It’s alright,” Michael soothes as the sound of Lucifer’s rapid breathing fills the car. Lucifer squeezes his eyes shut and curls in on himself. He’s trembling, and he would hate that Michael notices that. Once upon a time, it was him being a stubborn kid who wanted to stay up watching horror movies without his older brother bothering him. Then, him in the backseat, furiously scrubbing away tears because he thought that this time, Michael and Dad wouldn’t be coming back. Now, he doesn’t even want to tell Michael when he’s hurt, only take care of all his wounds himself. “What did you see?” Nothing makes Michael’s stomach twist the way that Lucifer’s visions do. They’re wrong in every way that Michael understands. Hunters aren’t supposed to be able to see the future or move things around with their mind when they’re scared or angry enough. If someone else ever found out…

Michael’s known how to hold a gun right since he was nine. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do to keep Lucifer safe, even if his brother doesn’t believe that.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He’s sure Lucifer is aiming for standoffish and short, but he just sounds shaken. If Michael wasn’t driving, if Lucifer was someone who could still let him do it, he’d wrap his brother up in a hug and hold on tight until he wasn’t scared anymore.

“You didn’t see someone die again, did-“ Gabriel starts.

“I said, I don’t want to talk about it!” Lucifer snaps, managing to reach something like anger this time but just barely. Gabriel can’t tell the difference like Michael can. He winces and shuts up, turning his head to press his face against Raphael’s stomach. Raphael pats his head automatically. They fit together so well, no one would ever guess they were only half-siblings by blood. Then again, they’ve never really known a world where they weren’t together, not that Michael knows of. They were so little when Dad picked them up. Michael remembers them barely being at his knees.

Lucifer scrubs at his face. He looks up out the window.

“How long was I out?” he asks, taming the tremor in his voice until it’s almost non-existent. “Why is there still corn?”

“You were only asleep for ten minutes,” Raphael lies, the reason why evident in the muffled sound of Gabriel giggling. Apart, they’re fantastic liars. Together, one of them always gives the game away. Lucifer swings his head around to narrow his eyes at them before checking the truck’s internal clock. It’s only fast by about seven minutes. Lucifer huffs and stretches. Michael sees him wince when he pulls his arm the wrong way too quickly, probably yanking on that scar he got during his first hunt. It’s never stopped hurting him.

Lucifer kicks the volume of the cassette deck up a bit. He lets his eyes slide shut as he leans back in his seat, breathing in deeply. He’d almost look like he’s over whatever he saw, but his hand is wrapped so tightly around his own wrist that his knuckles have gone white. His nails dig into his skin, leaving little pink crescents whenever he relaxes them. Michael frowns, but he can’t say anything.

It isn’t until hours later, with the sun a bleeding scratch across the horizon and darkness falling over their sleeping siblings in the backseat, that Lucifer speaks up about it at all. Michael’s feet are almost numb, and his eyes and neck ache. They only stopped for lunch, dinner, and a bathroom break in the woods (that, as usual, devolved into snickering and claims of ‘bet I can shoot farther than you.’ His little brothers were gross. Besides, they could never beat his record.) Michael could have handed the wheel over to Lucifer at any time. He probably should have. He grips the wheel tighter and keeps them on the right road forward.

“You think we’re going to find him?” Lucifer asks. He’s leaning forward against the dashboard, at the edge of his seat with his belt dangling off unused to the side. Michael feels the urge to push him back and buckle him in. The dying sunlight barely lights his face, leaving deep shadows around his eyes that make Michael uncomfortable. He flicks on his headlights. That brightens Lucifer up and scares away the dark red pallor across his features.

“We will,” Michael says, with utmost certainty. “Dad’s out there.”

Lucifer shifts awkwardly. “Right,” he says. He pauses. “I meant the demon.” Michael turns his face to hide the way his mouth twists and only looks back when he’s got his expression back under control.

“We’ll find it, too,” Michael says, “and kill it.” Lucifer digs his nails in against his elbow. “Why?”

“Nothing,” Lucifer says, in a voice that has always meant the exact opposite.

“Lu,” Michael warns. Lucifer curls in on himself more.

“The other… people like me. They get visits from him- from it in their dreams.” Michael’s heart stops. He forces himself to breathe. “It just talks. I know not to listen to what it’s saying, Michael. I’m not stupid.” That last bit comes out sharp, too defensive, like he really thinks Michael would believe he would trust a demon.

“…What does it say?” Lucifer hides his face in his arms and doesn’t respond. Michael swallows.

“You’re going to kill it, right?” Lucifer says.

He sounds small and scared, and Michael can’t do anything else but promise him, “Yes. I’ll give you its head on a platter if you want.” Lucifer breathes out a shaky laugh. When he raises his head again, he keeps it turned away like Michael won’t recognize him wiping his eyes.

There’s a horrible part of him that thinks of Dad’s theories about Lucifer, the ones all scribbled down into his journal that Michael told the rest of them he’d lost. The entries where special turned to cursed, where disobedience and teenage snark became signs of something terrible growing inside his son, where Michael’s actions were dissected down to bone every time he sided with Lucifer. Michael trusts every other scrap of knowledge in that journal. He puts his life, the life of his little siblings, in the hands of the information their Dad gathered over the years.

But he can’t be right about Lucifer. He just can’t be.

Michael tentatively reaches over and touches Lucifer’s shoulder. Lucifer jumps a little in surprise, but when Michael doesn’t pull back, he relaxes again. Accepts it. Michael presses his thumb into his brother’s shoulder, rubbing up to the corner of it that once used to be small and bony and is now layered well under muscle, and then he lets go again. It’s not much, but the way Lucifer stares at him, wide-eyed, confused, like he would beg for more if his pride would let him, before he swallows all of that down and faces forward again, makes Michael’s chest ache.

“Do you want to drive?” Michael asks.

(Enjoyed it? Any interaction is welcomed. You can even support me on Ko-Fi <3)

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controversialcoven · 2 years ago

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I think I might make a series where I draw homestuck characters to some of my favorite quotes

Here are some of the quotes if anyone is interested

Tumblr loves to fuck up my readmore section so sorry if things are repeated or look weird fhshfhsbd

“If you worship someone too much you’ll end up losing your freedom”

“Human beings are love in motion”

“So you dodged a bullet that you wanted to take”

“You nailed down the windows and locked the doors but the cold was coming from inside”

“Of all the things you fuck I’m the most empty”

“And being my moms least favorite only child must mean I’m her favorite too”

“You can’t light a fire that’s already burnt out”

“He sang as if he knew me in all my dark despair, and then he looked right through me as if I wasn’t there”

“Just let her crash and burn, she’ll learn, the attention just encourages her”

“It’s a felony in Florida to own a fake ID so tell me am I guilty if I change when no one is near me”

“The living need attention too”

“I will not let my grandparents bury their grandchild”

“We rise up to fight just to die, that’s just how the world works sometimes”

“For human grossly under qualified, for canine grossly overqualified”

“Kiss me with forever where only death remains”

“Your insides were never my size”

“I dig a hole in search of kites”

“This was all new to me once, and when it was it was so easy to love”

“I can’t feel my heartbeat so why would you give me a heart?”

“Falling in love with someone is wonderful so don’t call yourself the devil. I love you”

“If I’ve no one to fight how do I know who I am”

“Just because we live doesn’t not mean that we’ve survived”

“She tells the clock what time it is”

“To love and to be loved is to rest”

“I am that which seeks to know the compassion of the goddess within”

“Only once you’ve been unsheltered you can stand in the sunlight”

“Life is both mundane; life is beautiful”

“Being known is being loved”

“I am a mosaic of everyone I’ve ever loved, even for a heartbeat”

“yeah im perceiving the horrors but i’m also perceiving the beauty of life as well”

“And when we kill the gods neither heaven nor hell will be waiting for them because they created those to imprison us”

“I wouldn’t change a thing, you’re the one I want to sink with”

“We live because of the dead”

“Spun sugar melts in water anyways”

“So what if I do it for attention, does that really make me bad?”

“We can’t go back, only forwards”

“Thy who bites is truly the bitten.”

“The pillars of humanity, in no particular order, are Joy, Absurdity, and Sharing”

“I was like a patient who cannot tell the doctor where it hurts, only that it does”

“I’ll let you drag me to hell if it means you’ll hold my hand”

“It is not what you want but it is what you chase”

“In the name of peace we bring war”

“If wellness is this, what in hells name is sickness?”

“Unknowingly I prepare my punishment before I commit my crime”

“I've got no celebration, just this consolation; time eats all his children in the end.”

“I choose to burn out rather than fade away”

“At night I burn myself with cigarettes just to prove I’m still alive”

“Darling, it's the end of the world! We've reached the end of our usefulness and now we're doomed, let's waltz into the grave together!”

“We see the images flashing by, but cannot remember the names, just the fragmented memories that came along with it.”

“I’ve found another sense of comfort, another friend, another place to rest my head.”

“I strived to be like them. But I was still alone.”

“He came out in the end, losing more than anyone else.”

“Every time I listen to this I space out and think about everything I've ever done. All my choices and how they got me here. All the lessons I've learned, people I've met, things I regret, and things I wish I could change. All of it just seems so fast paced. Like I never experienced all of it. Thank you.”

“from ashes i was made, and ashes i return, and so i walk alone, and wonder why?”

“I will destroy you in the most beautiful way possible. And when I leave you will finally understand, why storms are named after people”

“Time will not wait for those who are late”

“With the morning starlight and the midnight sun, we spin around until we’re one”

“She’s not what I wanted, she’s what I didn’t know I needed”

“She may not satisfy my desires, but she satisfies my heart”

“I want to find peace of mind, maybe no mind is the answer to that conundrum”

“Tomorow is nearly yesterday and everything is stupid”

“But I couldn’t escape myself no matter how badly I wanted to”

“Do the gods mourn their fallen?”

“You come into the kings court holding the hat of a jester and expect not to be laughed at?”

“You can fall asleep and wake up drunk on the sky”

“Not a girl, not a boy, just a little baby”

“Make a hell out of demons haven”

“A subtle drop of poison a day keeps the kings will at bay”

“To look death in the eye and not welcome her with open arms is to not accept life at all”

“I miss you like a past life, I can’t remember if you were ever mine to miss. I missed you like we both died, a star crossed endeavor. I’ll miss you in the next life.”

“All of existence had her hand tenderly upon your hip”

#yin posting #i rant about homestuck #the only annoying thing is #I don’t have the original source of a lot of the quotes #some of them are in comment sections and shit #and some of them I straight up do not remember where I got them #so they’d have to be un cited rip

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harrison-abbott · 9 months ago

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His Team Lost a Lot

My Dad was drinking beer on the couch. He said to me, “Will. I need you to go down to the florist and get me some roses. They’re for your mother. Can you do that please?” He gave me a £10 note and told me not to spend all of it, to bring him some change. Saying all of this whilst he was watching the game on the TV. I went out. It was raining violently and I put my hood up. My shoes had holes in the soles and my the time I got to the florist by socks were all sodden. When I went inside the florist the clerk lady looked up at me suspiciously. Maybe because I was only nine. Or because I was wearing trainers and tracksuit bottoms. I didn’t understand such things back then and I’ve never liked being stared at … when people glare at me it only makes me feel like I’m guilty about something that they think I have done. I wandered about cluelessly, looking for the roses. The lady clerk came from behind her desk and approached me with quick feet. She had nasty eyebrows skewed at a bad angle. “What are you looking for?” she said. – “Roses, please.” – “Right, they’re this way.” I followed her. Her shoes were red and shiny. I looked at my grubby muddy trainers and felt ashamed. We arrived at a whole shelf of roses. In different colours. “Which colour would you like?” she asked. Dad hadn’t told me what colour he wanted. So I said pink because I knew Mum often wore pink things … and whilst I was looking over at the prices, I noticed that the bouquets were all £15 or above. “Is there anything that costs under ten pounds?” I asked the clerk. “No,” she said. “Okay … Can I buy a few roses rather than a full bouquet?” – “No, you can’t.” – “Okay …” – “So you don’t have the money?” – “I have a ten pound note.” – “That’s not enough. Away with you, shoo.” I blushed and I went outside into the rain again. My socks had warmed up inside the florist without me noticing.

I knew Dad would get angry if I returned to the house without any roses. So I pondered what else I could do. Then I remembered that they sold flowers down at the supermarket, so I reversed the direction and headed down there. Bug bushes whooshed by and they sent jets of water over the pavement and the rain darkened the walls of the houses as if they were burnt.

When I got to the supermarket and went inside there was a security guard in the fluorescent coat, and I thought he would get all suspicious of me. But nothing happened. I found the flowers section and there was a bouquet I could get for £4.50. Pink, as well. And I bought those and then left and then I was in the rain again. I walked back home and my socks were well and truly watery when I got inside the house. Dad was in the living room. I looked at my phone and realised that I had been gone for nearly thirty minutes. And I feared that father might get angry over my efforts, despite the roses. But when I got into the living room he was asleep on the couch. And his team were losing the game. I put the roses carefully on the table and then I put the money and the receipt next to those. Didn’t want to wake him up. He often flew into a rage if his team lost. And his team lost a lot. I didn’t know why he followed this team so avidly if they brought him little joy. He’d taken me to the games a few times on the weekends, down to the stadium, I mean, and I had never seen them win. There was a draw, once; and the rest were losses. And Dad was totally furious on the bus ride back home. So I never developed an interest in going again. I was terrified of my father’s anger and in adulthood would wonder where it all came from … but when you’re a 9 year old you can’t really understand such things and you tend to try and avoid it because you are too small. I hoped he wouldn’t get irate that the flowers were from the supermarket and not the florist. Should I take off the supermarket label? For now, I thought it best to head up to my bedroom and do quiet stuff in there. Didn’t want another beating from Dad. There were bruises on my arms from last time.

#writeblr #creative writing #prose #writers on tumblr #stories #tumblr writers #short fiction #fiction #short story #flash fiction #spilled ink

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starry-slithers · 4 months ago

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(hope you don’t mind me continuing your oneshot @ravenwind-75. I just can’t draw so I’ll write instead.)

“Guys, leave poor Johanna alone, she can’t control what she says while she sleeps.” Chided Cariad while attempting to braid Avania’s short pink hair.

“We’re only teasing.” They said in unison.

“It’ll haunt you in the morning when you’re all exhausted and Jo’s the only one who can function because at least she slept.” She said, walking over to where Johanna slept and patting her on the head, stroking her hair lightly.

Violette was reading, at least trying to sleep, while the others were chatting like school girls. Once Cariad was finished soothing Johanna’s yelling at sebastian, she sat beside the ginger haired girl and rested her chin on her shoulder.

“Whatcha reading?”

“Pride and Prejudice. It’s a muggle book and it’s fascinating.”

“Really? What’s it about?” She asked.

“Well, there’s this boy, Bingley and he’s this really rich bloke. And there’s a girl called Elizabeth who….” She was interrupted when Inger squealed and the sound of a cup shattering rung through the room. She’d dropped her hot chocolate. Avania got to her feet to gently help Inger, making sure she wasn’t burnt or anything before using ‘Scurgio’ on her ruined night clothes. Cariad and Calypso rushed to clean the mess.

“I’m so sorry guys I didn’t mean-.” She blabbered apologies but they all honestly expected something to inevitably break because of all the bags and sleeping bags strewn about. “Hey, it’s ok.” Said Lyssa gently. They heard a noise of approval coming from the mess of feathers in the makeshift bed they’d given the chicken.

Evelyn set down her quill for a moment and looked around. God, why was she friends with all these lunatics? Once Avania was done being a father figure, she sat down next to Eloise. At least she wasn’t causing havoc. Avania felt like she should put a kiddy leash on everyone except Cariad and Eloise- because even if they weren’t troublemakers, they were always getting wrapped up in dangerous quests.

PT2 coz johanna needs waking up.

“Jo? Johanna…” Cariad coaxed gently, knowing her friend would want to read with them.

“Cariad just leave it she needs her beauty sleep.” Sighed Eloise, who had been previously rambling to Violette about pride and prejudice and some bloke called ‘Mr Darcy’’s character arc.

“But-.” Cariad started, before being cut off by Inger

“You’re being too gentle. Maybe we could spell her? Or I could slip a Fizzibg Whizbee into her mouth to startle her awake?”

“No!” All the girls said in unison. Inger held her hands up in surrender.

Avania sighed, shifting Calypso’s head off her lap and Lyssa’s head on her shoulder. She got up and made a hot chocolate with extra whipped cream and held it under Johanna’s nose to coax her awake with the sweet smell. She got a bit of the cream on the top of her nose. Evelyn giggled, scooping some onto her finger and dotting it on Johanna’s cheeks before taking a dollop for herself. “Joooo…” Avania coaxed, gently tilting her head so the warm hot chocolate slid past her lips.

“Wakey Wakey sleeping beauty.” She said gently. Avania was practically a mum. Johanna started to stir, a bit disoriented at first before sitting up and yawning. “What did I miss?” She said, with whipped cream whiskers.

~ Calypso belongs to @dwightschrute11

~ Inger belongs to @ethniee

~ Lyssa belongs to @silvyadrakkon

~ Raine and Evelyn belong to @madebythe0cean

~ Eloise belongs to @myokk

~ Violette belongs to @syaolaurant

~ Johanna belongs to @ravenwind-75

and Cariad and Avania belong to me, @starryslytherin0

Attention all Hogwarts Legacy MCs!

I am starting an MC Sleepover! Everyone is welcome!

To participate just Reblog with an image, drawing, or even a sleepover story with your MC to THIS post

Sharing and “nominating” others is definitely encouraged! I would like as many peeps at this sleep over as possible!💜💙

I look forward to seeing everyone’s MCs in there pjs! 🌙✨

#hogwarts legacy #Hogwarts legacy MC #This is such a cool idea #MC sleepover #I would have loved to add more but I didn’t want to many in one scene #I can’t draw but I can kinda write

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starstruckshine · 2 years ago

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So, you’ve chosen to pursue…

The Trickster!

Trickster takes on the bratty, but fun loving show off character trope who is constantly tailed by his overbearing manager.

You can find him preparing to do his favorite beach activity, playing Frisbee! By offering to play you can get closer to him. He takes this chance to impress you with his skills, but…

You’ve noticed-

He makes the strangest faces while trying to catch the frisbee! He seems to have no idea the types of faces he’s making… So, it might be best not to call attention to it as it might embarrass him and hurt your chances to getting to know him better. You can’t help but to laugh though and you two have a great time.

Later, Trickster is desperately in need of your help!

Trickster has become horribly sun burnt (because he ignored Yun-Jin’s advice for sun lotion) and he needs you to apply ointment on his skin before his manager finds out how red he’s gotten! Alone, this is your chance to tell him how you feel, BUT this is also a chance to unlock a secret dating option, Yun-Jin Lee.

(If you choose Yun-Jin instead: Trickster is disappointed you didn’t confess to him, but he quickly snaps out of it. He takes this as an opportunity to help you distract his manager so that he may do whatever he wishes for the rest of his beach trip unsupervised. Yun-Jin is the older woman workaholic type you need to break through her icy barrier to get her to open up.)

---

I think it would be great if they added Trickster lol maybe in a DLC if the game does well. (BUT I’m happy with Trapper as an option! <3 <3 <3) Thank you for the ask! I hope you enjoyed the drawings! These were a lot of fun to make and think up. Thank you guys for all the likes and reblogs on the arts and the nice things you say in the tags! I always read them and they make my stressful work week much more enjoyable! See you next time! <3

#Dead by Daylight #The Trickster #Yun-Jin Lee #Ji-Woon Hak #Ji Woon #Hooked on You #MyArt #Asks #I know Yun-Jin isn't a killer but she goes where Trickster goes #so it just feels right for her to be involved lol #it’s also kind of a mix of them before the went into the fog #maybe the entity erased some of their memories #I have a few more asks to go!#wish me luck!

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bowiebond · 2 years ago

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My (Only) Friend | Byergrove | TW Suicide/SH

“You realise I’m not real, right?” Billy burnt through the last of his cigarette and flicked it off to the side. “This is fuckin’ embarrassing for you.” Smoke left his mouth as he spoke, words short and partially held like his breath until he finished and blew the rest out of his lungs.

“You’re real. If you weren’t real, I wouldn’t be able to touch you.” Jonathan flipped the blanket down on the Ute’s back, smoothing it out with shaky hands. It was freezing out, but Jonathan was used to that. Being cold. It came with being on the road. If anything, Jonathan was used to it.

“You only think I’m real because you’re lonely and dying.”

“I’m not dying.” Jonathan snipped curtly, breathing out harshly through his nose and climbing into the back. “Can we just enjoy one night without you talking like that? Please.”

“I’m serious, Jonathan.” Billy sighed, long and weary. “You’re dying. This isn’t real.”

“One night, Billy!” Jonathan slammed his hand on the floor in frustration and Billy snapped to attention with a glare before letting all the tension in his shoulders go with a huff. He climbed into the back and laid down, hands behind his head. Jonathan slowly smiled and laid beside him, looking up at the sky.

“I wish my camera could catch the stars. Piece of junk.” Jonathan joked and Billy hummed.

“Tell me about them. The stars.”

“Well, thankfully all the ones I do know about are out.” Jonathan laughed at the realisation, pointing off to the right. “That’s the Big Dipper, famous guy. And you have Aries over there. That’s my brothers zodiac.”

“Mine too.”

“No way. What a coincidence. Your birthday must be soon with it out tonight.” Jonathan couldn’t remember the actual date for the life of him, by it must be early March with how cold it still was. He shivered.

“Cold?” Billy asked and Jonathan shook his head.

“I’m fine.” The blond sighed wearily and curled his arm around him.

“You’re not.” He urged Jonathan closer, and the boy hesitantly placed his ear against his chest, his interest in the stars dimming as he shuddered. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Jonathan snorted softly, shaking his head. “I’m fine. Really.” Another shiver ran up his arms and down his spine.

“Just…that I can’t help you.”

“I don’t need your help, Billy.” Jonathan smiled softly, closing his eyes. “Just your company.”

Billy had simply shown up one day. Jonathan couldn’t remember when or how, but he appeared and whisked Jonathan away from everything. Lonnie, his school bullies, his weeping mother who was crushing him with guilt he wasn’t sure how to handle with his brother missing.

Some days he remembered to feel guilt. Mostly, he forgot to remember his life before this. Before the endless roads and warm feelings of deja vu at every stop they made.

Billy was his friend. Jonathan had never had one until he came around.

Billy ran his fingers through his fine brown hair and Jonathan sunk into him. Seeking out his warmth to escape the chill that only grew.

“Still. I’m sorry.”

“Cause I’m dying?” Jonathan mused, making light of Billy’s dramatic words.

“Yeah.” Billy said softly and stroked his thumb along the length of his neck. “Do you know anymore stars?”

“I…can’t really think of any right now.” Jonathan admitted, brows furrowing. “Drawing blanks, honestly.”

“I see.” Billy hummed, sounding faraway for a moment. “Tell me about your mom again. About Will.”

“…Who’s W-will?” Jonathan was shivering all over now, curling himself around Billy tightly. Why was he so cold?

Billy reached down and drew the blanket around them. It did little to stop his trembling.

“Your brother.”

“My brother…right. Yeah. My brother, he- he really likes…that, um, the g-game. The…” Jonathan blinked a few times and frowned. “What we’re we talking about again?”

“Your mother.”

“My mom?” Jonathan closed his eyes, picturing her soft brown hair. Her baggy flannel. “My mom…she’s p-pretty. And— and works too h-hard.” His teeth chattered and Billy turned to face him, drawing him in closer. Jonathan buried his face in his neck. He wasn’t warm or cold. He was simply solid and there, and Jonathan squeezed him tight as he fisted his frozen hands against his back.

“You hate making her sad.”

“Y-yeah.” Jonathan mumbled, tears prickling his eyes. “Yeah, I-I hate— I hate…”

“Making her cry.”

“Who?”

“Your mom.”

“…my mom?” Jonathan whispered, confusion in his voice.

“You’re dying, Jonathan.”

“Jonathan?”

“That’s your name.”

“R-right. Jonathan. I’m n-not— I’m not d-dying.”

“…What’s my name?”

“You’re B-Billy.” Jonathan shuddered out. “My f-f-friend.”

“…I’m sorry.”

“W-why?” Jonathan tried to look up at Billy and the blond knocked his head against his.

“I’m sorry I killed myself before I could meet you.”

“I-I don’t u-understand.”

“You’re dead, Jonathan. Your seven minutes is almost up…” Billy took his face in his hands and kissed his crown, holding his shaking body tight. “Thank you for spending them with me.”

“…Who’s Jonathan?”

“You.”

“Oh…W-who are you?”

“…Your friend.”

Jonathan smiled despite his shivers.

“M-my fr-friend?”

Billy stroked his hair gently, soothing the brunet as he made a noise of confusion, panic ensuing.

“W-why am I— c-cold? Where— I d-don’t—“

“It’s okay.” Billy whispered, squeezing him tight. Keeping him still. “It’s all going to be okay.”

“I’m— I’m s-scared…W-who…?”

“I was too.” Billy murmured. “But it’s gonna be okay. I promise.”

Jonathan whimpered before going quiet with only his stuttering breaths puffing against his collarbone. The weight in Billy’s arms slowly began to fade, to lighten, and he grasped tightly to it until it vanished completely.

And with it, the memory. Billy laid in the void of black alone, staring out into the endless water.

When he looked down at his arms, he found the open wounds had returned. The mark of his death. Red riveted down his forearms as he sat there, watching the red join the black waters.

Distantly, he heard waterlogged footsteps.

He turned around with dull blue eyes to look back at the boy. He was soaked, water dripping from his baggy clothes and lips blue. He sniffed, wiping the water that dripped continuously from his fringe out of his eyes.

“…My moms gonna cry.” His eyes welled up, shiny with regret.

“I’m sorry.” Billy watched as tears slipped down his cheeks, his sorrow evident despite his lax features.

“She— she already lost Will, why did I—?” Jonathan’s face crumbled with grief, agony contorting it as he grasped at his chest, as if he could put pressure on the bleeding wound in his heart. “How could I…”

“I’m sorry,” Billy blinked and found his own eyes wet. “But there’s no going back. We’re gone.”

Jonathan fell to his knees and sobbed, his forehead pressed to the black waters as he cried out, long and loud and ugly.

Billy did the only thing he could think of. He placed a hand on his back and rubbed. Let him cry. Soothe his pain. It’s all he could do, as his only friend.

All they had now was each other.

#billy hargrove #jonathan byers #tw suicide #tw sh #byergrove #I was gonna go to bed but then the feels hit me and I word vomitted have fun :)#angst

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blushingbucky · 3 years ago

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you are in love, true love | b.b.

alternatively titled - bucky barnes falling in love with his best friend.

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

word count: 1.4k

summary: bucky never imagined he would find the love of his life in his roommate.

warnings: roommates!au, unedited writings, heavy dialogue, she/her pronouns, mentions of food, a possibly ooc bucky, slightly obscure pop culture and music references (iykyk)

author’s note: the combination of my listening to 1989 in hopes of its re-recording and the need to write something other than angst resulted in this little series of blurbs. I haven’t written for Bucky in a while, so hopefully this is all still in character ? anyways. this fic is actually really personal — it references my favourite movies, the songs I listen to, things I would actually say in real life. please keep that in mind before you share your thoughts in the comments and reblogs <3

Your hands fiddle with the top button of your coat, twisting it back and forth. Was it too much?

You turn side to side, staring into your too-small mirror. The white blouse and black dress pants caressed your figure perfectly, and those black heels didn’t pinch your toes. A well-chosen, respectable, elegant outfit for a job interview. You just couldn’t make up your mind on that damn blue coat.

“Buck?” You call out, and a moment later he’s opened the door of your bedroom. “Do you like the coat?”

He hummed, eyes darting from the coat to the mirror, and back again. “That depends. You going for a Paddington bear look?”

“Buck,” you hiss, turning around to swat his arm. His laugh is loud as he steps aside, dodging your attack. Even with your stress, you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face at his laugh.

“Sorry, sorry! What about Rick Blaine?” Bucky arches his eyebrows with a grin, and you laugh at the reference.

“Interesting references. Do I have Sam to thank?”

“Hey, someone had to show me the classics.”

Your laugh fades as you stare down at the coat again. “So, no coat?”

“No coat,” Bucky takes your hands in his, flesh hand warm, metal fingers cool. “You look stunning.”

. . .

The hour of midnight is quiet, the road almost completely deserted, headlights lighting up the dark. Your head rests against your propped arm, staring at Bucky’s hand as it shifts the gears. Adele’s cover of ‘Make You Feel My Love’ plays from your Bluetooth, as he drives you home.

“I’m happy for them,” you murmur in the dark. Steve and Nat’s housewarming was a small affair, but the excitement left you drained. Their apartment was slightly larger than yours, with space in the living room for Steve’s drawings and close proximity to a gym.

Bucky turns his gaze from the road to your exhausted figure, nodding in agreement. “Me too.”

The comfortable silence is broken a few minutes later, when he murmurs, “Look up.”

Your hand brushes his grip on the gear stick as you shift, eyes focused on the road.

Instead of turning right into one of the many streets leading to your apartment, Bucky continues down the freeway. You open your mouth in confusion, with understanding taking its place as the golden arches of McDonald’s come into view.

“Figured you might want some hash browns, maybe a coffee?” His voice is tentative, and you wonder why he remembered such an insignificant detail about your midnight cravings.

If you weren’t careful, you just might fall in love with this man. Your reply is soft, almost lost to the night as Little Mix’s ‘Change Your Life’ starts. “I’d like that.”

. . .

The knock to your bedroom door is soft, but it reverberates through your already-throbbing head.

You groan, “Go away, Buck,” and turn onto your other side in the hope of falling back to sleep. But your thin curtains don’t keep out the morning light, the lump in the mattress presses into your ribs, and the door opens anyway.

“Made you breakfast.” Bucky’s voice is rough, indicating he himself didn’t wake up too long ago.

The harsh smell of burnt toast offset by sweet coffee floods your senses, forcing you to sit up and acknowledge his presence. “You call burnt toast breakfast?”

“That toaster is going to be the death of me… that is, not if you kill me first.”

Your glare softens as you reconsider — he made you breakfast. In bed. Unprompted. The least you can do is try to choke down the meal. Bucky wrote a smiley face with the butter, and the coffee’s in your favourite mug. Being sick had its perks.

“My ma would make us a special breakfast when we were sick, and I just thought it would be nice.” Bucky’s eyes won’t meet yours, and your heart softens with the mention of his family.

“It is nice.” You push up the sleeves of his shirt you’d been using as pyjamas, and take a sip of the coffee. “Thank you.”

. . .

“Doll, what are you doing?”

You look up from hanging the bed sheet over a stack of chairs, accidentally loosening your grip on the corner and dropping the damn thing on the floor. “Trying to build a pillow fort, which would be a lot easier if you hadn’t just made me drop that sheet.”

“Ah. What movie?” Bucky nods in understanding, mind already trying to calculate what memory resurfaced for you to have deemed tonight a pillow fort night. He drinks in the sight of you, desperate for details in more ways than one — hair tied back, pyjamas, with the fluffiest socks you own pulled over your feet.

It’s this you, right here, the you that’s reserved just for him. The you who sings in the shower and writes reports at 3 am and steals the last cup of coffee. This was the first side of you he fell in love with, the rest falling into place like dominos. His unfiltered, bright-eyed, messy-haired best friend who builds pillow forts when she misses her family.

The sheet falls into place, and you step down to admire your handiwork. “Do you need to ask?”

Bucky unravels the fairy lights from their place on the kitchen table, giving you a soft smile. “Tangled it is.”

“I think you’re my best friend,” Bucky blurts out in the third run of Tangled, lips loose from exhaustion and brain slightly fuzzy from the Asgardian wine.

Your giggles end with an abrupt, “What?”

“Well, yeah, I mean… Steve and I… he’s my brother. And Sam is Sam, and Becca was Becca, and… I don’t know. Every time I turn around, you’re there, watching my six.” He sighs, turning onto his side to face you. “And besides, isn’t the job description of a best friend forcing the other to watch their favourite movie on repeat?”

You flick his nose, but he catches your fingers with his own, pressing a kiss to your fingertips. His mouth is soft, barely brushing your skin, but your body betrays you, shivering despite the warm air.

With fairy lights twinkling above you, stomach full from one too many glasses of wine and Bucky’s hand in yours, you fall asleep to ‘I See the Light’.

. . .

The kitchen light is low, but you don’t need a spotlight to dance. You’re exhausted and a little tipsy, and frankly not exactly sure how you got here. All you know is Bucky’s arms feel like home, and you’re so damn grateful you answered his ad for a roommate.

He’s humming a simple melody, so faint your ears can barely catch it and your brain can comprehend it, but you don’t need music to dance. His voice is low, deep, smoothing the rough edges of his monotone, rising and falling as his tune builds. With a lift of his hand, Bucky guides you in a gentle twirl, before you fall back into his arms.

You tuck your head beneath his chin, against his chest, and feel the huff of his breath against your hair. Softly swaying back and forth, back and forth. You could stay in his embrace forever. Bucky presses a kiss to the top of your head as his humming fades, until the two of you are silently swaying in the dark.

. . .

The fluorescent lights in the grocery store are harsh against his eyes, yellow sale labels too bright, and he can hear your teasing voice. “This is why I do the shopping, Barnes. Can’t trust you to find the plums from the pears.”

He finds the plums easily enough, thank you very much, and places them into the plastic bag with care. Two cartons of milk, a packet of spaghetti and a carton of your favourite cookie dough ice cream later, Bucky’s order is being checked out by a worker.

Bucky pulls out his wallet with his flesh hand, grabbing out a 20-dollar bill to pay for his items. Before he closes the leather, his eyes catch on the picture of you he’d kept. Your eyes are closed, head thrown back in a laugh, his metal arm holding you up.

“Got yourself a girl there, hey?” The worker jokes, and Bucky smiles as he slides the wallet back into his pocket.

“My best friend, actually.”

“Guess she’s lucky to have you.” Barry, the name tag reads, hands him his items and receipt.

The smile doesn’t leave his lips as Bucky answers, “I’m lucky to have found her.”

. . .

You can hear it in the silence

You can feel it on the way home

You can see it with the lights out

You are in love, true love

You are in love

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers #sam wilson #tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier #tfatws blurb #bucky barnes blurb #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky x reader #bucky x reader fluff #bucky barnes imagine #steve rogers x natasha romanoff #roommates au #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader

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mintmatcha · 4 years ago

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addressing issues - kyotani kentarou

well! here's part two to this drabble ! special thanks to Amy (@saetyrn9) for helping me out!

tw: hurt comfort, discussion of relationship issue

The pancakes are raw in the middle. You try to pick around the batter, stabbing only the burnt bits with your fork, but it's a bit of a hopeless task. The gluey texture sticks to your tongue and the tingle of baking soda fills your mouth with each bite.

"Don't eat that." Kyotani tosses the spatula into the sink with a sigh. The smell of burnt sugar clings to the air, even though all of the windows in the apartment are propped open. He's still in his pajama pants, loose things now splattered with batter, but he's pulled on a sweatshirt- one that he stole from your closet months ago. "I ordered food. It'll be here in 20."

You place the fork down. "Thank you for cooking."

He slinks over, shoulders slack with defeat, and plops himself at the table. Tiredness weighs on his features; neither of you slept very well last night, but he was out of bed long before you even woke. "Don't thank me- I fucked it up."

He expects anger. Maybe discipline. Sometimes you wonder if that’s all he’s ever known.

Stretching across the table, your hand finds his cheek and cups it. Morning stubble prickles along your palm as you give him a little squeeze. He's frozen in your touch, neither pulling away nor leaning in, but his eyes close.

"Thank you." you repeat, firm.

He turns to kisses your palm and his lips linger. They’re soft and waxy- he’s been using that chapstick you gave him. "Anything for you."

You two stay like this, connected by only your touch, for a long time, much longer than justifiable. Just as the moment feels infinite, Kyotani breaks away.

"We're avoiding it." he says. He takes your hand into his, placing two more quick kisses before setting you down. As he pulls away, you tighten your grasp and interlace your fingers with his. There's a flicker of surprise, the slight raise of his brows, but he settles into the contact, drumming his fingers along your knuckles.

"I know." you sigh. "We…. don't have to talk about this if you don't want to. We could just… move on."

He takes a deep, stabilizing breath. "That's not healthy."

The clock chimes. It rings through the kitchen, filling the space where your response should be. He raps in your knuckles with his finger tips, tapping patterns you can’t quite follow.

"Okay."

"Okay." he repeats. Kentarou digs into the hoodie's pocket and reveals a crumpled ball of paper. As he unfurls it, you can catch a couple words scribbled in the margins.

"Did you… take notes?" you ask. He flushes immediately, aggressively trying to smooth wrinkles down. He's scowling at the mess of graphite smeared across the page. The tips of his ears are scarlet, bright against his blonde.

"I … I'm not good with all this. This makes it easier." He shoots you a quick glance. "Is...that okay?"

"I just didn't expect it."

The sink's dripping again. It's a random droplet that collects at the faucets' rim before falling into the collection of dirty dishes below with a tiny plink. It catches your eye, the way it gathers slowly; maybe you could ask the landlord-

Ken's right. You are avoiding it.

"I don't like it when you yell." It feels good to state the obvious. The bounce of your calf shakes the table, jostling your joined hands, but it barely registers. "It makes me feel shitty. Really shitty."

There's still a weight of something upsetting you; it itches in the back of your throat. "And… and it scared me."

He clutches your hand tighter. There’s a slight tremble in his throat, the miniscule shake of his adam’s apple, as he swallows, but he doesn’t let anything reach his face. The firm hold of his brow is stoic, controlled, even as his body betrays him.

"I’m sorry.” his voice is firm. He opens his mouth to say something else, but only draws in a breath. His tongue flicks over his bottom lip, running over the chapped edges slowly as he contemplates in silence. “I... I’m sorry.”

“I know. I know you are.”

“I.. I just…” Kyotani’s unusually frazzled as his eyes flick down to the page in front of him. If you strain, you can make out some of the scribblings, but he adjusts away from you, covering the writing. “It's dumb, but…” he traces over his writing with his finger as he reads. “Sometimes, I feel some type-a way and… it, it comes out wrong. It’s easier for me to get angry than admit that I’m hurt. It’s not fair to you. It’s not an excuse.” he looks up at you. “I’ll work on expressing myself better.”

There’s a sincerity in his voice, a gentle truth that you want to cling on to, but that itch under your skin hasn’t gone away. The situation’s still bothering you, still begging to be addressed. As you turn over it all, the squeeze of his hand no longer feels comforting- it feels overbearing.

“Kentarou, I don’t even know what I /did/.” you try and pull away, but he’s holding too tightly. Exacerbation boils in your chest, bubbling over quicker than you can control. “One minute, we’re having a good time with your friends. The next minute you’re yelling at me and storming off! I don't understand what I even did!"

"But-"

The waver in your voice rings through the room as you give a final tug. “I can’t live like this, constantly hoping that I don’t push your buttons. It makes me feel like I’m living in a minefield.” Reluctantly, he releases you, hand still dangling over the ruined breakfast. His steady look has finally broken into one more recognizable, with downturned mouth and a glassy sheen to his eyes. It’s blinked away quickly with a sniff, replaced with his usual sternness, but it was there. “It can’t happen again, Kenta.”

“I understand. “ he says immediately.

The sink drips again. It’s all you can look at, that little shine in the corner of your eye. The uncomfortable squirm building in your stomach begs you to keep watching it, to focus on it until nothing matters. You’re only brought back to the conversation when his chair squeaks across the tile as he pushes away from the table. In a few strides, he’s at the faucet, wiggling the handle with just the delicate touch of his ring finger. “I’ll fix that tomorrow.”

Of course he will. He’s always clanking around your apartment, burying himself into a new task wordlessly. Wordlessly, without request, he strives to make your life better.

“I don’t even know what I did.” you repeat. The blonde leans over the sink, hunching over his elbows with a sigh.

"It's a dumb reason."

"If it matters to you, it's not dumb."

He says it without looking at you. "I don't like it when you call me maddog." he states firmly. "It hurts. Really fucking bad."

Your anger deflates, suffocated by the sudden weight of guilt. "I didn't know that."

He shrugs. It says all he needs to.

“I- your friends call you mad dog though."

“I don’t like it when they do it either.”

“But you don’t yell at them.”

"They call me mad dog because they think I'm mean. Feral." he shoves his hands into the sweatshirt's pocket and kicks at the tile. His sock, a pink polka-dotted thing he must have fished out of your drawer, skids across the tile. It doesn't match his other sock- a Kentarou staple."I don't care if that's what they think of me."

Kyotani gives you a half smile. "But I care how you see me."

You stand and slink over, reaching for the drawstrings on his hood. He straightens at your presence, but doesn't reach, instead just letting you fiddle with the frayed cloth. Neither of you can meet each other's gaze, instead just staring at the floor between you. It's not until now you realize that you are wearing the other pink sock. Sliding your foot in between his completes the set. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too." The weight of him suddenly leaning against you, relaxing into you, almost knocks off your balance, but there's a comforting warmth to him.

"Still love me?" he rests his forehead against yours as he talks, his fingers are trailing over your sides and gathering up the hem of your shirt.

"Of course." you tug the strings, tightening the hood around his neck, "Still love me?"

He grips your hips and pulls you flush against him as a smile pulls at the corners of his mouth. "Always will."

His lips trail lower until they are almost aligned with yours, breath warm and sweet. You rise up ever so slightly to close the gap. The first kiss is fleeting, just a test of the waters, but the next one takes its time.The drag of his lips, the taste of mint on his breath, the hum building in his throat: it suddenly hits you how much you've missed him. As your hands slide into his hoodie, your hoodie, pocket, dragging him closer, Kentarou changes the pace and showers your face with a barrage of pecks. It's quick and needy, leaving you no time to even breathe.

"You know-" you manage to as you dodge his mouth, arching your back away from him to catch your breath. He grunts out something adjacent to a whine and dips with you to press against your forehead."I don't think you're mean."

"You don't? Even after all this?" As he continues tracing kisses down your face and neck, tickling you with his stubble, you laugh and squirm, but he's holding you steady.

"I think you're a big softy." you giggle.

"Hey now. Don't go around saying I'm soft." he nips at your neck with a warning growl, but you can feel the curve of his smile. "It's only for you."

#kyotani #kyotani kentarou x reader #hurt comfort #mint's musings

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zodiakuroo · 4 years ago

Text

Cupid’s Bullet

Dabi comes home with a very special Valentine’s Day surprise for you.

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader

Contains: dubcon/noncon, mentions of death, unhealthy relationship, gun play, fear play, forced orgasms, squirting, mindbreak, angst (if you squint?), quirk usage, one slap but it’s a hard one :3, overstimulation, creampie

Word count: 5.3k

Notes: pls this title is so cringe but it's like bullet instead of arrow cause... ya know but anyways happy valentine’s day from scumbag boyfie!dabi

Dating a villain meant that your relationship was unconventional to say the least. For one, public dates were out of the question, unless you wanted it to end in destruction of public property and some scorched heroes. You also always had to have some kind of flimsy excuse for your family and friends when they asked to meet your elusive boyfriend. In addition, you had to accept the fact that he would have to disappear sometimes for weeks on end to do his boss’ bidding.

There was also the small matter of arson, murder and theft and a multitude of other crimes that you’d prefer not to know about. And while you weren’t necessarily okay with a lot of what Dabi did, you loved him. You loved him so much that turning a blind eye was so easy it made you question your own morality. He didn’t scare you either. Not in the slightest, because you knew in his own special way, he loved you too.

In fact it ran much deeper than that. On his worst days, Dabi could set the world ablaze until nothing was left because in the end he didn’t care about anyone or anything, not even himself. Until he met you, he says. He tells you that in you, he’s found something to tether him to this existence.

Ok so maybe he didn’t use those words exactly, but he doesn’t have to. You know that’s what he means when he spoils you with expensive, stolen clothes and jewellery, when he offers to burn alive any person who makes you even the tiniest bit upset and when he comes home to you bloodied and beaten, trusting you to take care of him.

In summary, your relationship forced you to give up on having any “normal couple” experiences. That included, celebrating anniversaries and silly holidays like Valentine’s Day so you never bothered to keep track of them. It could hardly be considered a sacrifice when you compared those things to what you actually got from your relationship.

Dabi had been gone for close to a month now and you didn’t expect him back anytime soon, not knowing where he was or what he was doing. In fact the very last thing you expected was for him to creep into your bedroom in the middle of night and rouse you from your peaceful sleep with a soft kiss on your temple.

You don’t jump out of bed in a panic, like any sane person would. Instead you let out a satisfied hum, surrounded by the scent of burnt flesh, ash and menthol, feeling warmth bloom in your chest. It should be unpleasant but its Dabi’s scent and you’ve missed it. You’ve missed him. You pick your phone up from your night stand, squinting your eyes at the bright light that makes them sting.

Sunday 14 February, 2:43am

“Welcome home.” You mumble groggily, trying your best to fight off your tired body urging you to go back to sleep.

Instead of replying, he greets you by pressing his mouth to yours. You let out a quiet gasp, startled by the sudden display of affection. His lips are chapped but that doesn’t matter, your tongue darts out to moisten them before your lips lock into a gentle kiss.

You reach up, weaving your hands through his dark hair in an attempt to draw him closer but he retreats, opting instead to turn on the bedside lamp but keeping his other hand behind his back. “Sit up doll. Got a surprise for ya.”

Any thoughts of sleep were long forgotten as soon as his lips met yours but now he’s really piqued your interest. You push yourself up against the headboard and sit cross-legged. You look up at Dabi expectantly. Your boyfriend is smiling wide, skin pulled so taut you think one of his staples might give out. He reveals to you what he has hidden behind his back. A square black box, wrapped in a cobalt satin ribbon.

It’s so cliché you can’t help but let out a small snort. “What is it?”

“It’s a gift. You know… for Valentine’s Day?” He says as though it should be obvious to you.

Your heart swells at the gesture. It really was a surprise. Not in a bad way, you just knew he wasn’t your average boyfriend and that was okay. You didn’t want him to be.

“Well now I feel awful. I didn’t get you anything.” You pout as he props the box onto your lap.

“’S like a toy… so it’s technically for you but kinda for both of us.” It’s unusual to see Dabi this excited. The way he’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, eyes filled with mirth makes you all the more curious.

“Like a sex toy?” A giggle escapes you as you undo the bow.

“Are we playing fuckin’ 20 questions? Just open it.” He presses you.

You huff at his impatience but you don’t comment, not wanting to wait any longer either. You remove the lid of the box only to find something wildly unexpected.

A revolver?

You look up at your boyfriend with confusion etched on your face but his gleeful grin doesn’t falter. You’ve never seen a sex toy like this so you pick up the article to test its weight. It’s definitely the real deal.

“Dabi, this isn’t a toy.” You state matter-of-factly.

He merely rolls his eyes and says “Doll, when you can incinerate someone with a flick of your wrist, that little thing is definitely considered a toy?”

“O-okay? What do you want to do with it?” You ask, placing offending object onto your nightstand, not really wanting to hold on to it anymore, the metallic smell making you feel queasy.

“Ever heard of Russian Roulette?” Dabi, picks up the abandoned item, looking down at it with pride.

“What?” You furrow your eyebrows as nervousness starts to creep into your system and you instinctively move to back away from him but Dabi is quick to pull you back.

“It’s real easy doll. No need to look so scared.” He crawls on top of you, caging you in with his limbs. “6 chambers. 1 bullet. All you have to do is be a good girl for me. If not, I pull the trigger and we see what happens.”

The look on his face is positively demented. Azure eyes wide and bright, patchwork face contorted into a a sinister smile, white teeth and silver staples gleaming in the dim light.

“Baby,” you hope the pet name will placate him. It usually does. “I don’t know about thi-“

CLICK

You let out a shriek as your body jolts in fear but you’re unable to move with his weight pressing on top of you.

“You see now doll?” He clicks his tongue behind his teeth. “You’ve gone and wasted a shot.”

Dabi climbs off of you and you’re left lying there with your heart hammering violently in your chest, body trembling, still reeling from the shock of what just happened. Reeling from the shock of what is happening

“You gonna listen now? Gonna be good?” Dabi prompts, rolling the gun around in his hand.

All you can do is nod as your eyes being to water. The uneasy feeling in your stomach only grows worse as your mind races with the possible things Dabi has in store for you.

“Good. Now strip.” He command and like a good girl, you obey.

Your arms feel like they’re made of lead, moving rigidly to take off your shirt (one of Dabi’s old ones). You can’t stop the tears from falling as you pull down your panties, fat droplets roll down your cheeks, desperately trying to swallow the sounds of your sobbing.

This can’t be happening. It’s Dabi. He wouldn’t hurt you. He promised you that.

“Oh cut the fuckin’ waterworks.” He snaps. “As long as you listen, you’ll be fine.”

You try to calm yourself with deep breaths, not wanting to irritate him any further.

When you turn to face him, he’s leaning back on his haunches, one hand resting on his thigh, the other lazily gripping the revolver. “Fair warning, I’m more of a ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ kinda guy. But you know that already.” He thumbs the cylinder, making it spin. “Now, touch yourself for me.”

Breathing is difficult. No matter how much you try, it’s like you can’t get enough air into your lungs. Thinking only of gun in your boyfriend’s hand, you still you bring your own hand between your legs, but you can’t concentrate, what with the dread taking over your body making it tough to have any control of your body. Your movements are stiff and apparently not up to Dabi’s standards.

He only scoffs before-

CLICK

You scream again, body nearly flying off the bed before you curl yourself up into a ball. The fright is enough to stop your heart. For a second you believe it has.

“Doll,” Dabi’s gruff voice brings you back to earth, reminding you that you’re very much alive and whether or not you stay that way is entirely up to him. “You’re ruining my surprise. Got it ‘specially for you and now you’re being a brat.” He quirks an eyebrow at you, almost like a challenge.

“So-sorry.-“ your voice breaks. “I’ll be good.”

You’re still struggling to comprehend how any of this is real. You thought you knew him. You thought he loved you. And here he is, treating your life like it’s a game. You can’t help but think that this is your own fault. You thought you were above everyone else, the exception to your boyfriend’s villain behaviour.

“Yeah?” His voice drops to a whisper. “Then show me.” He challenges you. Dabi slips off his t-shirt and moves between your legs to get a better view, pressing on your knees to split them apart.

Self-preservation kicks in. There is one way out of this alive and that’s doing what he says. You spread yourself even wider, showing him all of you. Your hands, glide over your smooth thighs, kneading the pudgy flesh as you get closer and closer your sex, teasing yourself the way he would. Your fingers find your clit and just a little pressure makes your eyes melt shut. Probably for best anyway. It makes it easier to imagine anything but this. You drag those fingers through your delicate folds, letting out breathy sighs as heat begins to bloom between your thighs.

You pretend, its Dabi’s touch. In your mind’s eye you see the two of you, limbs tangled with Dabi on top, resting his forehead against yours. It’s one of those nights where he wants to go slow. So slow that the sensation of his cock dragging in and out of is you bordering on torturous. It’s one of those nights where he wants to lay his head on your chest, mouthing at your breasts, laving your nipples with his wet tongue while you tell him, in that sensual voice that you love him, that he’s perfect, that he’s yours. Because it’s one of those nights, where everything feels like too much for him and the only person that he really has on his side is you.

It’s not long before you’re leaking. Somewhere, deep in the back of your mind, there’s a voice chastising you for being so easy for him… even now. There’s almost no resistance as two of your fingers, press into your entrance. Your fingers are no match for Dabi’s, they never hit all those deep, hidden spots that make you see stars but still, you start to move them slowly, brushing your thumb over your clit every so often.

“Look at me.” You feel his breath waft over your pussy.

Eyelids fluttering open and you meet his gaze. It stuns you a little and your hands come to a standstill. He is handsome, breathtakingly so, even though he thinks you’re lying whenever you when you tell him that. The way he stares at you, with love and adoration in his eyes, it’s almost like the fantasy you were just imagining. Almost like the fantasy you’ve been living in this whole time. It’s enough to make you forget the situation you’re in. Then the muzzle of the gun is pressed to your clit, snapping you back to reality fast enough to give you whiplash.

“Fucking slut.” He growls and smacks your hand away from your pussy.

You jerk as he starts to move it the gun circles over your sensitive nub and then dipping down to your tight slit to gather up your juices.

“All those fuckin’ tears but look how wet you are.” He says more to himself than you as he admires the way your slick leaves a sheen on the barrel. With his eyes trained directly on yours, his perfectly pink tongue pokes out to lick it clean, groaning at the taste.

The next thing you know his arms are wrapped around your legs, guiding them over his broad shoulders. He kisses you on your mons before his tongue begins greedily lapping at your hole. “Tastes so good doll.” He mutters with his nose pressed against your clit. He slips the wet muscle inside of you making you whine. You reflexively grab onto his black hair, tugging on the stands and he lets out a groan of approval. He moves up to your clit, circling it with his tongue before suckling on it. While he brushes just the tip of a finger over your cunt, making it clench around nothing while you desperately buck your hips, in an attempt to have it inside you.

The way he’s eating you out is almost romantic?

Or it would be, if it weren’t for the metal digging into your flesh.

“Doll,” He places a sloppy kiss on your clit, lighting dragging his teeth over the hood. “Want you to squirt for me.”

A lump forms in your throat. You can count on one hand the amount of times that has happened. You’re not sure of the odds that you’d be able to right now and it’s not a gamble you’re willing to take. “Dabi, I don’t think I can….”

CLICK

You thrash, screaming so loud it makes your throat burn.

Dabi still holds you open, keeping you in place. “I wasn’t asking.” He makes sure to maintain eye contact as he drops a fat glob of spit right on to your clit before diving face first into your cunt once again.

He pushes 2 of his long, lithe fingers into your tight entrance. It’s unexpected and you wince. He drags his right hand (the one holding the gun) up your torso, resting the muzzle underneath your breast, right over your racing heart. A reminder of what’s at stake. He envelopes your sensitive clit with his lips, moving his fingers in tandem with the suction. You’re consumed by desire as Dabi brings you so close to the edge.

“Dee-Deeper please.” Your pant out.

He smiles against your mound before complying with your request. “Right here?” His fingers press against that squishy patch deep inside you and your eyes roll back.

“Nnnggg yeah.” You’re barely able to mewl out. You dig your heels into his back and grind against his face, chasing your high. Dabi keeps hitting that spot with astonishing precision but you hold off for as long as you can, letting the pleasurable sensation build until the pressure in your core becomes unbearable. When it finally snaps because you can’t hold it anymore, your eyes squeeze shut, hands flying to his biceps and you dig your nails into the sinewy muscle. You gush around his fingers and all over his face. Dabi doesn’t move though, flicking your clit with his tongue repeatedly until you’re trembling and whimpering, pushing him away from your pussy. He finally relents, a pop echoing around the room as he lets go of you.

He gives you a predatory look, scared face and chest wet with the remnants of your orgasm. “You made such a mess baby but I’m glad you’re finally having fun.” He’s just as out of breath as you are but far more composed.

Your head is still fuzzy and limbs are still twitching but your boyfriend doesn’t let you recover. “C’mon, doll. My turn.” He begins to undo his belt, silver buckle clinking as he rushes to drag it through the loops of his jeans

You pull yourself on to all fours, now eye level with his crotch. He pulls down his pants and boxers in one go, his erection almost hitting you in the face.

“You’ve been lucky so far.” He taps the bulbous head of his cock on your lips, smearing your lips with the pre that dribbles out of it. “But I wouldn’t test it if I were you. Open.”

Your mouth is already watering at the sight of him. So long, thick and veiny. It’s disgusting actually, this Pavlovian response. He fucks you deeper, stretches you wider and makes you feel better than anyone ever had. You wonder briefly, if anyone ever could fuck you as good as Dabi.

You stick out your tongue and he slides himself between your lips, groaning as he pushes into your mouth, slowly, inch by inch. He fills your mouth completely and you shut your eyes, savouring the salty taste of him but you feel the muzzle press against your temple and making them shoot open. “Atta girl. Lemme see those pretty eyes.” He grunts as he plunges into your throat. You bob your head up and down his shaft, the hand at the back of your head setting a brutal pace. The room is filled with the sounds of you gagging and his hefty sac smacking against your chin.

“So good to me baby.” He tilts his head back, losing himself in the pleasure. The wet heat of your mouth surrounding him while your saliva leaks out, dripping down his balls. Dabi is big and heavy, stretching you so wide and making you jaw ache from the weight of him. You’re already lightheaded from the lack of air, no matter how much you try breathing through your nose. You don’t dare to complain though.

He pulls out of your mouth slowly, stretching a string of saliva from the head of his dick to your tongue that’s hanging out of your mouth. You pant like a bitch attempting to catch your breath. He doesn’t give you much time before he’s in your throat again, back to fucking your face.

“I love you so much. You love me?” He sounds so sweet, totally blissed out.

He stops thrusting and tilts your head up to look at him, blinking tear-clumped lashes. You try utter a ‘Yes, I love you.’ but with his shaft gagging you, it comes out all garbled. The muscles in your throat convulse around the deep intrusion. “You’d do anything for me right?” He asks, jabbing the muzzle even harder into your temple, finger resting lightly on the trigger. You nod, watching Dabi lose his composure bit by bit. “Yeah. That’s why you’re my girl.” He pushes himself even deeper inside you, making you finally take all of him, until your nose meets his pubic hair and holding you there. “Fuck.”

CLICK

“Hmmhhhhngggh” You squeal around him but you can’t pull off because of the grip he has on your scalp. When he lets you go you’re choking and coughing up a lewd mixture of spit and pre-cum.

“Wh- Why” You blubber, voice hoarse. You don’t understand. You were doing exactly what he asked. You were being good.

“Sorry baby. Felt so good, my finger slipped.” He doesn’t even try to hide his mischievous smirk. The fucker is definitely not sorry.

You want to beg him to stop this ridiculous game because you see now there’s no way you can win because Dabi doesn’t play fair.

He doesn’t give you the chance though, already shuffling off his bottoms all the way and propping himself up against the headboard. “C’mon pretty baby.” He tugs on your ankle. Wanna see you bounce on my dick.”

You clumsily position yourself atop his lap quickly, before you can even think about it. You know he doesn’t need a reason to pull that trigger but still, you don’t want to give him one.

He grinds his tip along your heat, piercings dragging across your clit over and over again. It’s something he does whenever you have sex, to rile you up. And just like all those other times, it’s working. Circumstances be damned. “Needa feel this hot little pussy. Give it to me doll.” He murmurs against the shell of your ear.

You nod as you lift yourself off of him to hover your dripping wet hole over his hard dick. You slowly squat down on onto him, the fat head stretching you out, burning with every inch you take. You mewl, making futile attempts to blink away tears. You get halfway before you have to stop, resting your hands on his shoulders trying to gain leverage. You’re outright crying now, wet droplets landing on Dabi’s chest.

“’S matter doll.”

I’m terrified. You yell in your head but stay silent, choosing to focus on relaxing your ever-tightening hole in order to take more of him.

“Oh, I know.” He coos, voice dripping with condescension. “’S too big for your tiny cunny.” He leans forward to kiss away the salty tears. “But you can take it. I know you can.” He cups your jaw, stroking your cheek with a calloused thumb. “You can do it for me”

You start to move slowly up and down, using gravity to force more of his monstrous cock inside you with shallow movements. You really are trying your best but that’s apparently not good enough for Dabi and he lets you know that by pressing the barrel of the gun into your stomach. You freeze, horrified, more tears start falling from your eyes. You open your mouth to beg him to just give you a little time. You’re trying.

“Quit being a baby and just take it.” He says before you even get the chance.

“I’m trying Dabi, please just-“

CLICK

He cuts off your plea. He’s not interested in your excuses.

The rotation of the cylinder sends vibrations through your abdomen. Amidst the shock, you release your grip on his shoulders and impale yourself on his shaft by mistake. The combination of the searing stretch and the blunt head of his cock kissing your cervix is so overwhelming that you collapse forward, head falling on to your boyfriend’s chest. You feel the rumbles of his chuckles while he’s quite literally splitting you open.

“See? Knew you could. Just needed a little scare. Isn’t that right.” He rubs your back as if to comfort you. He lets out a low whistle. “But looks like you’re all out of chances doll. Now bounce.” He gives you a spank with an inhumanly warm hand, making you squeal and leaving your cheek tender.

Your hands find purchase on his shoulders again. Dabi’s sapphire eyes are practically glowing, daring you to be stupid enough to defy him one more time.

You pull off almost entirely, keeping just his tip inside of you, before spearing his shaft into you again.

“Good girl.” When he praises you with that raspy voice makes you keen and desperate for more of it.

His hand snakes its way up your torso to cup one of your breasts. Your back arches, pushing into his scorching hot touch, forgetting momentarily about his other hand and what he’s holding in it. He gropes your chest, tweaks and twists at your nipples, leaving red, inflamed hand prints in his wake. You’re practically delirious with pleasure, babbling out incoherent streams of his name along with “yes” and “more”. All the while, he murmurs praises about how good you are and how much he loves you. It’s confusing and you can’t process any of it.

“Who owns this perfect pussy?”

“Dabi. Fuck. Dabi.” Your tongue lolls out of your mouth in the most obscene way, drooling down your chin. Your plush walls pulse around him as he hits that sensitive spot every time you sink down on him.

“That’s right it’s all fuckin mine. My pretty baby.” Dabi’s eyes are focus on where your two bodies are connected watching the translucent ring of your cream appear and disappear as you ride him.

“Preeeettyyy.” You slur and he laughs at how fucked out you are, brain completely jumbled between the fear, the pain and the bliss all combined into ecstasy.

“Doll.” He groans. “I feel ya squeezin’ me. You gonna cum?”

He’s right. You nod as you feel that coil tightening again, threatening to snap at any second. The man finally starts putting in work, pounding into you every time you pull off of him. Dabi abandons the gun in favour of playing with your clit, rubbing quick sloppy circles. “Yeah? Gonna cream and gush around me? Want you to baby.” He buries his head in the crook of your neck, sucking, biting and licking while he assaults your sopping wet pussy. “C’mon doll, please.”

With that you orgasm. He grabs your hips pulling you flush against his thighs, fucking you through your orgasm, rolling his hips up into you until your high finally subsides.

He doesn’t let you catch your breath before he’s got the revolver pressed hard underneath your chin. “Now make me cum.” You almost collapse but the harsh grip he has on your hair suspends you upright.

Your mind is so foggy and Dabi gives you a small smile, appreciating the perplexed look in your droopy eyes. But he’s not done with you yet.

“Hey.” You’re ripped from your daze, when he slaps you across the face, sending your head swinging to the side. “Don’t pass out on me now.”

“So-sorry! ‘M sorry!” You grovel as you slam your tired body down on his dick once again, trying to ignore the throbbing on your cheek, the ringing in your ears, and the ache in your battered cunt. You’re so sensitive from your last orgasm but you don’t have a choice and you don’t dare deny him anything. Your thighs are quaking and burning with every movement but your boyfriend is unimpressed.

“You can do better than that doll.” He lets out a bitter laugh, enjoying every second of tormenting you. “It’s like you want your brains splattered on the ceiling.”

You start crying again, shaking your head frantically. In the time that you’ve been with Dabi, you’ve learned certain tricks, you know he likes it, but in this panic/lust induced frenzy, you can’t remember any of them. Instead, you bounce, mindlessly on him while your gummy walls clench tighter around him every time he nudges at your a-spot. Your legs are going numb from all the effort and you plop down, limp onto his lap, taking him to the hilt.

Dabi tsks at you, reminding you that you can’t rest just yet. You swivel your hips, grinding your pelvis against his while he’s buried deep in your wet heat. You pray to whatever deity is listening that he’s getting close, you’re not sure how much more you can take.

“If I don’t bust in the next 5 seconds.” His hand finds your clit again, you grind across his fingers has you rock against him. “Bang!” He emphasises the word by bringing a heated palm down on your ass.

A choked sob bubbles at the back of your throat, making him snicker

Hands pressed to his chest, you ride him like a woman possessed, the last bits of adrenaline kicking in. Your sloppy cunt squelches every time you drive yourself down on his cock just motivating you to fuck him harder.

“Five.” He grits out.

“Dabi, please!” But you’re met with icy, apathetic eyes staring back at you, feeling the terror that the rest of the city does when they so much as hear his name.

“Four.” He rubs your already raw clit, faster and you can feel another orgasm building, much quicker than your last two.

Your body feels so heavy but you can’t stop moving, not unless you want him to- “Please cum!” You beg. “Need your cum.”

“Three.”

He starts to fuck up into you again with unforgiving force.

“Wh-Why?!” is all you can manage as your mind starts to fog up again, the need to come becoming all the more urgent.

“Two.” He ignores your question, transfixed on your tits bounce in his face. You’re getting close to your third orgasm of the night and it seems Dabi is determined to get you there.

You still can’t believe this is real. You never thought that Dabi would treat you like this. You were supposed to be special.

Or at least that’s what he told you.

Moreover, you can’t believe how your own body is betraying you. You can’t believe you’re actually going to cum. Again.

“One.”

You cry out his name one last time, unsure if it’s out of fear or pleasure. You dig your nails into his arms again, in a feeble attempt to ground yourself as you cum around him. The orgasm that rips through you makes it difficult for you to be sure of anything.

What you are sure of is the fact that there was no bang or bullet.

Just one last CLICK (practically drowned out by your screaming) and the sensation of Dabi’s hot cum flooding your womb. He has a bruising grip on your hips, gun now discarded, and he ruts up into to making sure to stuff your cunt absolutely full of him. He begins to laugh as he softens inside you.

Your head is still spinning but once you’re able to push yourself off of him, you can finally make sense of what just happened.

He was fucking with you.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” You yell, using weak and quivering arms to throw pillows at him while you cry so hard it makes you dry heave.

Your asshole of a boyfriend starts cackling, clutching his abdomen as if he just pulled the world’s funniest prank while your heart is beating so hard and fast you think it might break through your ribcage.

“You should have seen your face. You were so fuckin’ scared.”

You become nauseous, feeling bile rising in your throat as you come to a sickening realisation.

This is not your Dabi. This is the Dabi that the rest of the world gets to see.

Evil, sadistic, merciless. This is the real Dabi.

You attempt to scramble off of the bed to get away from him, feeling overwhelmed by the humiliation. But Dabi grabs your wrist and yanks you into his chest, wrapping you up in his arms. A gesture you used to treasure but now it just made your skin crawl. “C’mon Doll you didn’t think I was being serious did you?”

You writhe in his hold, hitting against his hard, toned chest with pathetic fists. “Don’t be such a crybaby. It was just a joke.” He strokes your hair oh so tenderly. But you won’t fall for that again. Dabi is a villain through and through. You know that now.

It’s no use fighting him off though, all the fight in you is used up. You don’t know what else to do. So you do the easy thing: nuzzle your head into his chest, tremors rocking your body as you hiccup, while he holds you. That way you can pretend that you feel safe with him, just like you used to.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, doll. I love you.”

#dabi is just the worst huh #sorry about the angst i honestly don’t know how that happened #dark content #dark fic #mha smut #tw dubcon #bnha imagines #bnha smut #dabi imagine #dabi smut #dabi x reader #mha x reader #tw slapping #tw noncon #tw unhealthy relationship #tw gunplay #tw death mention

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harryspet · 4 years ago

Text

pinky promise | p.parker, b.barnes & s.rogers

[Warnings] little!peter x little!reader, stucky x reader, stucky x peter, ddlg, ddlb, polyamory, fingering, vaginal sex, sex in little space, age regression, millionaire!stucky, hints of breeding kink

A/N: she’s finally here :) i intended for this to have more stucky but it just didn’t work out lol

In which Peter and you play Mommy and Daddy.

taglist: @peterztinglez @lovelynerdytraveler @buckybarney @hollandsdream @micki-smiles @buckybarnesplumwhore @arts-ismything @saharzek @lovemassivelybeautifulbouquet @what-is-your-wish @brattypeony @hermayone @buckysugar @mandiiblanche @nsfwsebbie@yanderepeterparker @ttqueen05 @belleknows @write-from-the-heart @sad-ed-noise @quaksonhehe

main masterlist

word count: 2.6k

“Pick out which one you want, baby,” Bucky whispered before walking past the little curtain, talking into his cellphone as he listened in on an important phone call. You went back and forth trying on the same skirt, one white and the other a light pink. You were starting to get a bit frustrated, knowing that you preferred when Steve just chose for you.

You huffed, deciding that you didn’t want to look at yourself in the dressing room mirror for any longer. You decided to put them back on their individual hangers and put your clothes on. That morning, Daddy had put you in one of your “big girl” dresses. It was still light blue with ruched sleeves but, paired with your white sneakers, you looked normal enough to walk around the mall.

When you left the dressing room, Bucky was waiting for you. His face instantly fell when he saw your expression, “What’s wrong?” He grabbed your arm softly and when you turned your face away from him, he grabbed your chin, “Which skirt did you pick?”

“I didn’t like them,” You spoke softly, your eyes slowly rising up to meet his.

“But you looked beautiful in them,” You gave him a shy look and his lips began to tug into a grin. He reached up to brush a piece of your hair behind your ear.

“I can’t decide,” You told him, “I don’t need them anyways …”

“Nonsense. If you can’t choose, then my princess must have both. How else are you supposed to turn heads and make a good impression on the first day of classes?” Bucky easily dismissed the idea, “We’ll have a fashion show tonight and the boys can help you pick.”

You should’ve known that money would be no object to him. It was never to Steve but it seemed Bucky liked to spoil you especially. No wonder Peter was so spoiled.

“Thank you, Papa,” As he heard your voice, the raise in pitch and the pouting lips, he knew what you needed. He kissed your forehead softly.

“Awe, my baby doesn’t want to be a big girl anymore. Let’s get you home then, princess.”

It was true. Your date today was very nice and you loved the bond you were building with Bucky but you wanted desperately to wind down in little space. After a long day of college classes, your favorite thing was coming home to Steve but now you got to come home to three people who wanted to baby you.

From the moment, Bucky buckled your seatbelt for you, you were already beginning to slip. He held your hand the entire ride and as the two of you walked into the luxurious brownstone in Brooklyn that you called home.

You were quite ready to run into Steve’s arms but the first thing you saw was Steve’s arms wrapped around Peter. The younger boy was sitting in his lap, playing a video game, his eyes focused on the flat screen illuminating the living room.

When Steve saw you, he smiled of course, but you couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy. Steve was Peter’s Daddy as well but, in your moment of wanting to regress, you couldn’t help but want Steve’s full attention.

“Hi, Papa!” Peter shouted, his eyes not leaving the Mario Kart game. He was dressed in his PJ’s, the footie ones that had all the little Darth Vader’s printed on them.

“How was your trip? Successful, I hope,” Steve asked.

Bucky seemed to notice your mood had a fell and that's when you felt his hand on your waist. He lifted you easily, setting you on his hip, all while holding your shopping bags. You were very grateful, resting your head on his shoulder, “Very successful but this one is in need of some tender love and care. I think we need a nice warm bath, don’t we?”

Bucky felt you nod and his lips pressed into a thin line. Steve flashed him a knowing look and Bucky gave him a look that said, “don’t worry, i got this”. The merging of your small family went much better than Steve had anticipated but you still had your moments.

Bucky carried you upstairs into the room you shared with Peter. The walls weren’t painted white but the two sides of the room contrasted each other. Peter’s side was full of pastel blues and greens while yours was rainbow central.

Bucky ran a bath for you and, much to your enjoyment, he joined you inside. You felt completely relaxed as he ran a wash cloth along your skin, soaping you up and massaging your skin gently. Your back against his front, Bucky could feel you slowly relaxing.

“You know, both Daddy and Papa love you very much,” Bucky spoke into your ear, his hand dropping between your legs, slowly spreading them.

“Mhm,” You agreed, shivers running through you despite the warm water.

“And Peter does too …” As his fingers spread your folds, his strong hands began to rub in a circular motion.

“I know, Papa,” His pace was still gentle, every circle he made teased your sensitive bulb, and you found your hips starting to grind against his fingers. Your eyes closed as you tried to focus on the sensation.

“That’s why I think that this weekend … you and Peter should spend some time together, while Daddy and Papa are away on business.”

Your eyes opened at that, surprise evident on your face, “Without Papa and Daddy? But we’re too little-” A small moan escaped your lips as he paid special attention to your special area. You slowly closed your eyes again.

“Your big brother will take care of you, whatever you need, princess,” Bucky spoke softly, his fingers working methodically against your clit.

All you could do was nod, agreeing with whatever Bucky had said. You were too focused on your incoming orgasm to disagree. When you finally did release, Bucky didn’t let you go, he kept going until you were trying to pull away from his body. He wrapped his other arm around your torso, pulling you back, as he made you ride out your orgasm.

“Good girl,” He groaned into your ear, “What do you say?”

“T-Thank you, Papa,” You panted and he began to kiss the skin on your shoulder.

You were still deep into little space when you awoke the next morning. After a tearful goodbye to Steve and Bucky, you decided that you’d play dress up in order to cheer yourself up. Peter explained to you that he was going to be a “big boy” and make the two of you food for your tea party. A tea party that he invited himself to after complaining that his own stuffed bear was invited before him.

You’d chosen a cowgirl hat to go with your flouncy pink dress and set the living room up to be your venue. The coffee table was fully decorated and pillows surrounded the table for all your guests to sit.

“Petey!” You called to the kitchen just as he entered with a plate. You told him he had to dress up if he was to join you but he refused to put on one of your dresses. Instead, you had to settle for him wearing a red cape and a crown.

He set it out in the middle of the table, proudly smiling as he exclaimed, “Ta-da!”

You took one look and pouted, “You burnt it,” There were about ten slices of burnt toast with butter, “And where are the finger sandwiches? Cinnamon scones?”

Peter gave you a confused look as he took a seat on the pillow beside you. He was already grabbing a piece of toast and stuffing his mouth, “The toast is pretty good,” Was the great response you received. You shook your head, deciding to just pour the tea for everyone.

“Here’s tea for you Buttons, Sassy Cat, Miss Sprinkles, Sir Horse …. and for you Mr. Parker,” You poured his tea carefully and you smiled, noting how impressed he seemed by the simple act. You set down the pot and grabbed your own cup, “And make sure you sip it like this, with your pinky out, because we’re sophisticated.”

“I thought you were a cowgirl,” Peter chuckled a bit as you watched him try to sip his tea carefully.

“A cowgirl princess,” You corrected him with the utmost seriousness, “I’m still sophisticated.”

“My apologies, your majesty,” He bowed his head slightly and you felt your cheeks heat up.

Your day had started with burnt toast but you had a feeling Peter was going to make it a fun day.

Hours later, the living room was now shifted into a small fortress made of blankets and chairs. Toy Story was playing on the TV while you and Peter paid attention to your separate coloring books. Your most relaxing pastime was having your paci, letting it soothe you, while you colored. You stayed inside the lines unlike Peter and he’d constantly tear out his pages before starting again.

The two of you had changed out of your costumes from early, having done a million activities since tea this morning. You were down your panties, a rainbow t-shirt, and fuzzy pink socks. You were flipping the page in your book when you felt Peter’s foot graze the bottom of yours. You didn’t think much of it, even starting to find the feeling soothing after a while.

When you turned your head towards him, you found him watching you, “I’m bored,” He spoke suddenly, “Let’s play a video game.”

You only shook your head, turning back to your drawing, and you heard him let out a frustrated huff of air. The stroking of your foot soon turned into a tapping. Despite your attempt to ignore him, he began to inch closer to you. When you turned your head again, his face was only inches from yours and you were looking into his brown eyes, “We can play pretend some more,” That made you perk up and, despite being in the middle of drawing a castle, you set down your crayon.

You gave him a curious look which caused him to smile, “We could play Mommy and Daddy,” As your eyebrows raised in confusion, he continued, “Well I’d be the Daddy and you’d be the Mommy of course. Don’t you know how to play?”

You slowly shook your head and Peter leaned in. You were frozen for a moment as he kissed your pacifier. You felt your cheeks heat us as he gently removed it from your mouth then pressed his soft lips against yours. You’d never shared a kiss with him while the two of you were alone and, for a moment, it felt forbidden, “We have to ask permission…”

Peter could see your enjoyment as clear as day, “But we’re just pretending. Mommies and Daddies kiss all the time,” You nodded, understanding though you still felt a bit nervous.

“I like your kisses, Petey,” You said and you watched his face turn red. He leaned in again and you were grateful for his touch, how he moved your lips against yours, and how his tongue began to explore your mouth. You turned on your side and you felt his hands roam over your backside.

He dipped his fingers into your panties, causing you to cry out, “Shush, we have to be quiet. We can’t wake up the baby,” He whispered to you and you instantly nodded, enjoying the sensation, “You’re soaked, Y/N.”

You could feel his member growing hard against your thigh, still confined to his underwear. You reached out to touch it and you watched him shudder at your touch, “Geez…” He groaned, “Do you want to make another baby?” Something seemed to shift in his eyes and suddenly he was more eager than before.

“Yes,” You nodded, playing along to whatever scenario he was making up along the way, “I love being a Mommy.”

Peter couldn’t wait much longer and you let him climb on top of you as you quickly pulled down your panties. He didn’t waste time with his own underwear, pulling out his hard cock, and pressing against your warm heat. You felt his tip rub against your clit and then up and down your folds.

You held onto the sides of his torso, gripping his striped shirt tightly as he began to sink inside of you, “Y-You’re so tight, honey,” he began to rock back and forth, looking into your eyes as he hovered over you. He gripped the pillows beneath you tightly, the motion in his hips causing your body to convulse beneath him.

“Peter, peter, peter,” You breathed, biting down on your lip. His head dipped down, kissing your lips again and, distracted, you didn’t notice that his hand moved between your thighs. He fucked you while his hand stroked your sensitive bulb, knowing that would send you over your edge. As you tightened around him, you brought him to his climax.

As he collapsed against you, catching his breath, you welcomed his embrace.

“You can’t tell Papa or Daddy,” He told you, hugging you tight.

You only held out your pinky and he wrapped his around yours.

You wouldn’t tell but you imagined the grand punishment that would ultimately lead to you cumming until you passed out.

“Petey … petey,” You tapped the sleeping boy’s nose until you finally startled him awake. He was quite cute when he slept, holding tight to his teddy bear while he was tucked into his baby blue sheets. Peter pouted as soon as he opened his eyes, seeing you hovering over his face, book in hand, “I can’t sleep.”

He attempted to close his eyes again, “Count your sheep, Y/N,” He mumbled as he turned his head away from you.

You bounced on top of him, your legs straddling him, and he awoke again, “I counted all the sheep! Like five trillion-million of them,” As your voice raised, he pressed his pointer finger to his lips. He sat up on his elbows, giving you a frustrated look.

“Shush, you don’t wanna get in trouble, do you?” You instantly shook your head, obeying his warning to calm down. Peter eyes the book in your hand, “Why can’t you read it to yourself?”

“I like the way you read,” You spoke earnestly, “And you can say all the big words.”

You knew that would work, stroking his ego. Peter loved it when everyone treated him like a big boy. He thought for only a moment, a small smile tugging at his lips and suddenly his tiredness was gone.

“C’mon, get under,” He motioned for you to move and, excitedly, you climbed under the covers with him. The twin-sized bed fit you two comfortably and you liked cuddling more than anything. As Peter pulled the covers over you, he whipped out the flashlight he kept underneath his pillow.

You rested your head against his chest, wrapping your arms around his torso, as you listened to him, “Don’ you worry, Harry. You’ll learn fast enough. Everyone starts at the beginning at Hogwarts, you’ll be just fine. Just be yerself. I know it’s hard. Yeh’ve been singled out, an’ that’s always hard. But yeh’ll have a great time at Hogwarts — I did — still do, ’smatter of fact.”

The accents he used always made you giggle. Peter was quite the story teller but that didn’t keep you from drifting off a few minutes later. Peter kept reading, entranced by the novel, but stopped when he heard your soft snores. He turned off the light and let the book fall against his stomach.

“G’night, Y/N.”

#peter parker x reader #little!peter #little!reader #stucky x reader #stucky x peter #daddy!bucky #daddy!steve #daddy!stucky #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #chris evans #sebastian stan #tom holland #little space

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spencerreidsconverse · 4 years ago

Text

When Evil Doesn't Sleep

summary: Spencer has been gone far too long on a case and when he finally returns home, reader shows him just how much she missed him.

word count: 3.4k

warnings: smut, implied dom/sub undertones, pet names

Pairing: Spencer Reid/Female Reader

A/N: My first fic!!! I hope you all enjoy! <3

“Y/n I’m really sorry but it looks like the case is going to take a lot longer than we thought. We had a recent development and the profile is now pointing to a partnership so now we’re hunting down two unsubs”. You sighed as Spencer rattled off his apologies through the phone before putting him out of his misery “Spencer honey, you don’t have to apologize. Quit worrying about me and focus on catching the bad guys.”

To say you missed Spencer would be the understatement of the century. He had been in Utah for six days already and now with a pair of psychos your odds of finding him in your bed by the end of the week were growing increasingly slim. It didn’t help that you had been swamped prepping for an extra class you’d agreed to take on at Georgetown where you worked as a Criminal Psychology professor. Between both of your hectic work schedules you hadn’t had a real weekend to yourselves in a few months, and while you knew when you first started dating Spencer that it was an inevitable of his job, it had never been this crazy before. They say evil never sleeps but lately it hasn't even taken a catnap.

“I love you Y/N. I promise I’ll come home to you soon and take you out on a real date. I’m sorry darling, I have to go. I’ll text you when I get to the hotel tonight and if you’re still up we can talk for a bit okay?”. “Alright Spence, I love you too. Stay safe okay?”. “I promise, goodbye love.”

Your farewell barely made it past your lips when the dial tone cut you off and once again your boyfriend of three years vanished from your side of the country. You let out an exasperated sigh before reminding yourself that there were other people who needed his help and that you could wait for his attention - at least until that night. Continuing the trek up the stairs of your and spencer’s shared apartment, you managed to haphazardly balance your grocery bags in one hand while unlocking the door and disabling the security alarm, internally cringing at the high shriek that rattled through your brain.

Walking through the living room, you sat the bags on your kitchen counter and began reorganizing the small fridge space to fit all the perishables you had brought home, absentmindedly hoping they wouldn't spoil now that it would be just you for several more days. Moving to the cupboard you replaced the few grab and go snack boxes you had made up to try and encourage Spencer to eat more throughout the day and refilled the paper plate stash that quickly became a requirement after you realized neither one of you could tolerate doing dishes every night. You ripped open the cardboard packaging of yet another microwave dinner and set the timer before leaving to change into more comfortable attire.

Opening the door of your shared bedroom, the smell of vanilla wax melts and dryer sheets hit you like a brick and immediately sent a pang of loneliness through your chest. Spencer was usually around by the time the chores needed done, and you rarely had to do them yourself. Unfortunately, the laundry was piling up and you needed something to distract you so you spent the day running errands and cleaning the apartment more thoroughly than necessary. You walked over to the stack of black dresser drawers and pulled out the first pair of pajama pants you touched, Spencer’s old caltech sweats that now fit you far better than him considering he had received them when he was 14. They looked more like capris on him now and it was embarrassingly difficult to convince him to buy a new pair that fit him properly. You slipped on a tank top and pulled your hair back before making your way lazily to the bathroom to take off the remnants of your simple makeup.

After scrubbing your face clean and pulling your dinner out, you moved to ready the couch for yet another night of binge watching cheesy 90s movies. You selected Clueless and watched the vibrant colors pop across the screen while you dived into your meal, making a poor attempt to ignore the slight freezer burnt taste that lingered after every bite. You finished your dinner and set the bowl aside before covering yourself with a blanket and allowing yourself to sink into the cushions, desperately awaiting Spencer's text.

You were jolted out of your doze by the loud buzzing of your phone against the wooden coffee table. Clumsily you reached for it and managed to swipe the answer pad before it sent your genius to voicemail. “Hello?” you managed before a yawn ripped its way through you suddenly. “Hey Y/N, I’m sorry it’s so late. I didn't mean to wake you, I figured you’d still be up. You should go back to bed love.” For the first time, you noticed the neon green numbers on the microwave. 12:30. You stifled another yawn and shook your head in an effort to wake yourself further “No way, I just dozed off while watching a movie. I was waiting to talk to you. Besides, I’m up now anyways so you might as well stay on with me for a bit. Did you get any further today?” “Well, JJ had the idea that the partners were originally a typical dominant/submissive partnership but that something in the dynamic must have changed because the MO began to deteriorate. We think the partners must have split up now, because we’re finding similar pieces of the previous MO at separate crime scenes.”.

You processed the information he fed you slowly due to your semiconscious state but eventually you put your words in order well enough to respond. “That should be helpful though yeah? I mean, they’re used to working in a partnership so being suddenly separated from your other half so to speak would throw you off track quite a bit right?”. You could practically hear him smiling through the phone as you drew the conclusions the team had come to only a few hours prior. “Yes. We’re hoping to be able to draw them out and trap them. Play them against each other.”.”Does that mean I can stop sleeping on the couch soon?”. You heard him let out a dejected sigh - you knew he hated that you would force yourself onto the cramped couch when you had a king sized bed a few hundred feet away but he understood.

When he had come home in the early hours of the morning after an abrupt end to a case a few weeks after you had moved into his place, he had caught you curled up on the sofa with a throw pillow stuffed under your head. When he questioned you about it the next morning, you simply answered that the bed felt too big without him and that you couldn’t stand the empty feeling. “Sooner than later I hope my love. Y/N I really wish you wouldn’t do that to yourself. It’s horrible for your body. It can put you at a much higher risk for chronic back and neck pain as well as-”. “Spence. I’m not a giant like you are. I fit on the couch much better than you do, and I barely notice the difference.”. You both cringed, hearing the lie clear in your voice. Still, Spencer must have felt bad because he humored you. “If you're sure. What did you do today my love?”. You smiled sadly hearing in his voice just how desperate he was to escape from his reality and come home to you.

”Well, I straightened the house. In fact, it’s so clean i think we could use it as a sterilization room.”. He let out a soft chuckle and you could hear him begin to relax as you recounted the rest of your day, excluding the part about the microwave dinner. Spencer loved to tell you how many of the ingredients were one step away from processed garbage and you decided to opt out of the lecture for the evening. He had more than enough to worry about without having to focus on your diet while he was away. After a half hour of light conversation, a loud yawn betrayed you as you were excitedly discussing the cute puppy you had met on the way to the market. Spencer immediately requested that you hang up and get some more sleep but you refused. After a few minutes of bickering, you relented on the condition that he would read to you until you had fallen asleep. You curled up under the fluffy blanket as Spencer’s even voice recited the collection of Grimm’s fairy tales quickly lured you to sleep.

You woke up the next morning as sunlight peered through the curtains, stretching your body out to ease the aches from the previous night. You smiled softly as your screen lit up with a text from Spencer wishing you a good morning and an update that they had a solid plan for boxing in the two unsubs that afternoon. “If all goes to plan I should be carrying you to our bed before midnight tonight.”. Your smile widened and you sent back “Can’t wait to truly see you - and love you- tonight. I’ll be waiting.” You plugged your phone into the charger and straightened up from the night before when your phone went off again. The one word message glared at you from the screen and you let out an involuntary giggle. “Tease.”. You hoped it gave him something to look forward to until he was back in your arms. You sent back a simple “XO” before deciding to reread one of your favorite books for a few hours to kill some time. You made yourself a sandwich for lunch and had a few glasses of water as the clock slowly ticked by. You were over halfway through the lengthy novel when you received another message.

“We apprehended both unsubs. Hotch is postponing the paperwork until Monday so we can go straight home. I’ll see you in a few hours baby.”. You jumped slightly in celebration before finishing your current chapter, marking your place, and all but skipping to the shower to shave and exfoliate your skin. You knew Spencer would still be heavily worked up once he arrived home and luckily, his favorite release included intertwining your bodies as close as possible and loving you sweetly and slowly.

You took your time in the shower careful not to nick yourself with your razor. You scrubbed your scalp with your nails, letting your stress and soreness melt away under the steam. You waited until the water ran cold before turning the knob and stepping out, wrapping yourself in a fluffy towel and blow drying your hair until it layed perfectly even. You applied lotion all over your skin and stepped out of the bathroom to slip on your black silk robe, knowing it wouldn’t be worth it to dress up further. Spencer would be desperate to feel your skin against his and any fabric in his way didn't stand much of a chance.

You made an actual meal for dinner, a pasta dish with chicken that could be easily reheated for Spencer when he grew hungry later in the night. You helped yourself to a serving and after quickly cleaning up the kitchen and storing the leftovers, you retreated to the bedroom to wait for his return.

You were half paying attention to the feed you opted to scroll through on your phone when you heard the door creak open and bags drop to the floor. You set your phone on the bedside table and ran towards the foyer, all but throwing yourself at the exhausted man in front of you. He took a step back from the impact but still enveloped you in his arms and pulled you impossibly tight into his chest. “Hi baby.” you whispered against the scruffy skin of his jawline, peppering kisses up towards his earlobe. He let out a long sigh of relief and picked you up off the hardwood floor, wrapping your thighs around his waist resulting in a high pitched giggle to erupt from your throat. He kissed you then, slowly at first but quickly building more passionate. Your lungs were burning when he finally allowed you to pull away, opting to kiss down your neck to your collarbones and the skin of your chest that was newly exposed as your robe slipped open.

He carefully made his way back to your room, continuing his kisses back up to your shoulder, stopping only to leave marks you knew would only grow darker as time passed. At the very least he was sure to only mark you in places you could cover with little difficulty. “I missed you so much Y/N. The entire ride home all I could think about was you waiting for me in our bed. My gorgeous girl.”. You felt your chest heat up at his words of admiration, wrapping your fingers into his curls and pulling his lips towards your own once more.

You felt him groan against you and moved to quickly unbutton his shirt, slipping it down his arms and tossing it in the general direction of the hamper. He pulled you up with him then, so you were both on your knees, chest to chest as he pulled your robe fully down your back to the swell of your ass where he grasped at you through the slick fabric. You let out a whine and you pulled his belt off, undoing his jeans desperate to continue. He grinned against your neck and pushed you down so you laid flat on your back, completely exposed to him. He kissed at your stomach, making his way down to your inner thighs. He licked a slow wet trail from your pelvic bone to the top of your clit as you whimpered desperately. “Spence, please… I need more”. He humored you, creating slow small circles with his tongue moaning at the taste. You cried out as he created the perfect amount of pressure on your clit, legs threatening to close around his head when he moved to slip one of his fingers easily inside you as the mix of your own wetness and his saliva aided him. He smirked as he felt your thighs flex before using his left hand to throw one of your legs over his shoulders at a time. He pushed a second finger in, curling them up to perfectly reach your g-spot with every thrust. Soon though, you grew impatient with just his fingers. You needed more and you knew just how to get it.

“I want you so bad Spence. I’ve waited for so long and I just can’t anymore. I need to feel you deep inside of me.”. You were positive those words would leave him just as needy as you were and he proved you right when he kicked his pants the rest of the way off and went to line himself up against you. “Wait.”. He stopped immediately, examining your face for any indication of what was wrong. “What’s the matter baby? Are you okay?”. You shook your head and smiled at his concern before switching your positions so his back was resting against the pillows as you straddle his thighs. He smirked at you as he caught on, trailing his hands up the front of your legs to rest at your hips. “You gonna ride me angel?”. You responded with an eager nod and he squeezed your hips, pulling you up further so you were hovering above him. “Sit pretty like my good girl then.”. You whined softly at his words before slowly sinking yourself down around his length, sucking in a harsh breath at the stretch. Even with how wet you were, the adjustment took longer than usual due to the dry spell you were both suffering from as of late.

When you finally felt stretched out enough to move, you slowly ground your hips forward flush against his. He groaned out, lifting you back up so you were almost completely off of him before pulling you back down. You moaned both at the sensation and the idea of being manhandled by the genius below you. You realized what he was asking though, and began bouncing yourself up and down his cock, stopping every few thrusts to grind your clit down on him. You let out soft moans, and after a few more minutes you felt his fingers dig deeper into your hips and his breaths quicken. You knew he was close and as if on cue you started rubbing fast circles against your clit as he spoke again.

“Baby girl I’m getting close. You gonna cum with me angel?” You nodded furiously in response and you felt him start thrusting up to meet you. You panted as you hurried towards the edge of your orgasm, holding on until his thrusts grew sloppier. “You ready to cum with me baby? You gonna cum on my cock?” “Yeah.. gonna cum all over your cock Doc.” You fought to keep the grin off your face when he moaned at the title. He thrusted deep into you twice, before he ordered your release. “I want you to cum now baby. Cum all over my cock.” You felt your orgasm rip through you, electricity shooting through your limbs. Spencer groaned loudly as you tightened around him before pulling you down deep and releasing inside you.

You both fought to catch your breath as you rode out your highs before you found yourself slumping against his chest, suddenly drained from your activities. You felt him chuckle at your drastic change in energy as he wrapped his arms around you again. “I know you just washed the bed sheets and we’re both sweaty but do you think a washcloth will suffice for tonight?”. You nodded against his chest before slowly lifting yourself up and off of him, rolling onto your back on the other side of the bed. Spencer swiftly made his way across the hall, returning to wipe you down gently with the warm fabric. You shivered as the cool air dried your skin, watching him move throughout your room.

He slipped on a fresh pair of boxers before tossing the washcloth in the hamper along with his previously discarded clothes. He hung your robe on the back of your bedroom door then flipped the light switch off before rejoining you in bed to slip under the blankets with you. You immediately curled up into his chest, sighing contently as the sound of his heartbeat filled your ears. You kissed his chest and whispered goodnight, drifting into your first real sleep since before he left.

The next morning you and Spencer went shopping after you successfully convinced him to upgrade to a smart phone with video call abilities. He had begun to shut down the idea as he always had before but after the mere suggestion of what it could do to better your late night hotel room chats he was the one pulling you towards the nearest phone shop. You smiled politely while Spencer took his sweet time weighing the pros and cons of each model, letting your mind drift to the first time it would come in handy. As you finally neared the checkout counter, you took Spencer's hand in your own and gave it a gentle squeeze. After running his card through the machine, the salesgirl gave him the small plastic bag and wished you both a good afternoon.

As you exited the shop, you looked up at him, nudging him to get his attention “What do you think of an app controlled vibrator?”. He stared at you incredulously for a few moments, almost stopping dead in his tracks. After recovering from the initial shock at the vulgarity of your suggestion, he shook his head with a soft smirk and nudged back against you. “Tease.” he called you once more. “That’s the reason you love me right?”. He pulled you into his side, kissing you softly. “One of many Y/N. One of many.”

#spencer reid #Spencer reid/reader #spencer reid/you #Spencer reid x reader #Spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #cm #Spencer reid smut #smut #Spencer reid x you #Spencer reid fanfiction

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penny-anna · 3 years ago

Note

If you're still doing Geraskier, number 8 for the prompt game?

this one got a bit out of hand!!

better judgement

“I told you to stay down,” Geralt said. “Why didn’t you stay down?”

“I don’t know,” said Jaskier. “I panicked. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. You didn’t have to do that. Why did you do that?”

He said, “it might have killed you.”

“Oh, gods,” said Jaskier. “It was my fault. Wasn’t it?”

Jaskier goes with Geralt on a hunt and makes a near-fatal mistake.

(on ao3!)

He was lying on his belly in the mud, the bushes screening him from view; his ears primed for any sound, his eyes trained upon the water of the marsh, watching for even the slightest ripple. He didn’t move a muscle. He breathed slowly. He could do this for days, if he had to.

A nudge against his ribs. “Hey. How long is this going to take?”

He cursed mentally. “I told you to be quiet.”

“I know,” Jaskier whispered. “That’s why I’m whispering.”

Geralt didn’t dignify him with a response.

Jaskier elbowed him again. “Geralt. How long is this going to take? Cause my legs are cramping.”

“You wanted to come,” Geralt said.

“It’s just, and I stand by that decision – it’s just that I’d appreciate a more specific itinerary –”

Something splashed out in the marsh and Geralt clapped his hand over Jaskier’s mouth, silencing him.

“Mmf!”

“Shht!”

The marsh had gone quiet. It was only a diving bird. Slowly, reluctantly, he released Jaskier’s mouth.

“You got mud on my face!” the bard hissed, scandalised.

“You said you’d do as you were told.”

If you want to come you’ll do exactly as I tell you, he’d said. Jaskier had smiled sunnily and said of course – of course – I shall defer to your expertise. He should have known better than to trust him.

“I am!” Jaskier persisted.

“No you aren’t.”

“Are we going to lie here all day?”

Against his better judgement, he tore his eyes away from the water. “What did you expect?”

Jaskier shrugged. “More action than this?”

“I told you I was going to wait for it to come out of hiding.”

“Well, I didn’t expect it to take quite this long.”

“It’s been less than an hour,” said Geralt. “Will you just shut your damned mouth?”

“So can I take it this is going to be an all-day affair?”

The water rippled. Geralt grabbed his arm.

“Because – ow,” said Jaskier. “Sooner or later I am going to have to p–”

Shoving him further back into the bushes, Geralt said, “say down.”

“Hey –”

The beast rose out of the water, serpentine, slate-green. He strode out of the bushes to face it, his sword raised. It was bigger than he’d expected and it was quick in the water. He’d need to draw it up onto land –

A sound behind him and the creature’s broad snout snapped around, its attention caught by something else – by an easier meal.

“Fuck,” he said under his breath and turning he cried, “Jaskier!”

He had left the cover of the bushes, stumbling backwards across the rough ground. His eyes were big and round and trained upon the beast and what he thought he was doing Geralt couldn’t imagine. Stepping forward he put himself between Jaskier and the marsh beast, reaching behind himself to touch the bard’s chest, steadying him.

“Behind me,” he said – but before the words were even out of his mouth the beast reared up and he saw what was about to happen.

He had only a moment to react, and he reacted on pure instinct. He didn’t need to think about it. Turning he grabbed Jaskier, pulling him close, curling around him, shielding him with his body. A hand on the back of his head he forced Jaskier’s face into his armoured chest and braced himself for the inevitable.

The beast’s venom burned across his back, a strip of fire as wide as his arm, dissolving clean through his armour, eating into his skin and flesh. He could hear sizzling on either side of him as the vegetation burned away. The air stang his nostrils. White-hot liquid was running down his back, scorching every part of him that it touched, and he willed himself to breathe. In a moment it would be over.

A splash behind him as it sank back below the water of the marsh and through the pain a detached part of his mind registered that they were safe. The bard was shivering in his arms, alive, uninjured.

He sank to his knees in the mud, taking Jaskier down heavily with him. He’d had worse. But it would take some time to heal. The pain was blinding. It would be hard to talk and it was a long way back to the village. It would be difficult to keep the burns clean, out in the mud and grime of the marsh. It would be difficult to avoid infection. He could feel his armour sticking to his ruined flesh and he gritted his teeth at the sensation, at the new layer of pain. He was nauseated. His heart was thrumming – his head swimming –

“Oh gods,” Jaskier said against his chest. “Oh gods – Geralt – what –”

He was aware abruptly that he was still holding Jaskier tight against his body, squeezing him harder than he ought to. The bard was shifting in his arms, struggling, trying to pull away. “Geralt,” he said. “Geralt, are you alright?”

Slowly, with some difficulty, he relaxed his grip. Jaskier was shaking, his eyes big, his pupils frightened pin-pricks. Holding him by the shoulders, Geralt checked he wasn’t burnt. He was fine. The venom had missed him. It was a comfort. “Are you alright?” he said, to be sure.

Jaskier’s eyes went to his shoulder. “Fuck me,” he said, reaching out to touch his ruined armour.

Geralt caught his hand and flinched, grunting in pain, as the movement pulled at his back.

“Did it –”

“Don’t.” Geralt pushed his hands away.

“Let me see.”

He grabbed at Geralt’s arm and Geralt let him look. He didn’t have it in him to fight.

At the sight of the burns Jaskier paled. “Ohh no,” he said. “Oh, fuck no.”

“It looks worse than it is.” His vision was blurring. He made an attempt to get up. His legs wobbled. “Shit.”

“What do you need?” said Jaskier.

“My pack.”

Jaskier nodded shakily, and went. When he came back a moment later Geralt said, “water.” Jaskier fetched his flask and went to put it to his lips, but Geralt shook his head. “No. On the burns.”

“Do you –”

“Need to wash them.”

“I don’t know –”

“Just pour it over.”

The water was cold, and it stang. He groaned aloud at the pain, his breath leaving him.

Jaskier took him by the arm, trying to steady him. “Are you okay?”

“Bandages,” Geralt managed. He could worry about the pain when his back was clean and dressed. It was lessening now anyway, now that the venom was washed away.

Jaskier was glancing anxiously at the marsh. “Is it going to come –”

“Not yet,” said Geralt. “It takes – a few hours for its venom to –”

“Alright – alright, hush.”

He helped him off with his armour and shirt. His hands were shaking, as he began to wrap the bandages around his chest.

“Is that it?” he said as he tied them off.

“Yeah,” said Geralt.

“Good,” Jaskier said, and turning he crawled away on his hands and knees and retched into the mud.

“I told you to stay down,” Geralt said. “Why didn’t you stay down?”

“I don’t know,” said Jaskier. He wiped his mouth. “I panicked. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Raising his head he said, “you didn’t have to do that. Why did you do that?”

Alone, he would have dodged it. There’d been no time to warn Jaskier, or get him to safety. He’d known the bard wouldn’t have the knowledge or the reflexes to save himself. If Jaskier had taken the venom to his face or chest it would have killed him, messily and painfully. Taking the brunt of it had been the only logical thing to do.

He said, “it might have killed you.”

“Oh, gods,” said Jaskier. “It was my fault. Wasn’t it? I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Geralt shrugged the remains of his shirt back on. It pulled at the burns and he swayed on the spot. With the adrenaline of the fight fading it was getting harder to think around the pain. He could feel his mind turning glassy. This was bad. He’d had worse. But it was bad.

“Geralt?” Jaskier’s hands cupped his face. “Geralt? Are you going to be okay? Please say you’ll be okay.”

Geralt grunted.

“I don’t know what to do,” Jaskier pleaded. “I need you to – Geralt, hey.” He lifted Geralt’s sinking head, looking him in the eye. “I need you to tell me what to do.”

He wanted to lie down in the mud and sleep. He might have done, if he was alone.

He gripped Jaskier’s arm. “Help me up.”

Jaskier levered him to his feet. “Okay,” he said. “Okay, you’re okay. Oof,” he said as Geralt leaned on him. “Oh, you’re heavy.”

One foot in front of the other, he walked. He just needed to get back to his horse, he told himself – and then to the village – and then he could rest.

Later, his back properly bandaged, a potion in him to take the edge off the pain, he sat upon his bed. He was looking over his ruined armour to see what could be salvaged. There wasn’t much that was undamaged.

“You’re quiet,” he remarked.

“Mm?” Jaskier was across the room, fidgeting in his chair, toying with his notebook but not really writing. “I – I really am sorry.”

“You don’t need to keep saying it,” said Geralt. “You panicked. It happens.”

“I shouldn’t have been there in the first place,” said Jaskier. “You told me as much.”

Geralt thought, I shouldn’t have let you come.

“It happened,” he said. “I’ve had worse. Don’t dwell on it.”

“I can’t help dwelling on it,” said Jaskier. “And, I think I shall be seeing what it did to your back in my dreams.” He closed his notebook. “Are you going to go back out there again?”

“In a couple of days.”

“Is there anything I can to do help?”

“No,” said Geralt. He put aside his armour and reached for the water jug upon the table.

The simple motion pulled at the still open burns on his back and he winced, hissing. “Let me,” said Jaskier, half falling out of his chair in his haste to cross the room.

He filled a cup, and sat tentatively upon the edge of the bed, sitting by Geralt while he drank. “Is it,” he said, “is it going to scar?”

“Yeah,” said Geralt.

“Badly?”

“Probably.”

“Gods,” said Jaskier. “I’m sorry.”

Geralt grunted.

“You didn’t need to let it burn you,” Jaskier said. “It was my fault.”

“I’d do it again.”

“Really?”

Geralt shrugged.

“Why?”

“It’s what I do,” said Geralt. He toyed with his cup. “You did good out there.”

“I really don’t think that I did,” said Jaskier.

“You did what I needed you to when it counted,” said Geralt. “Thanks.”

Jaskier breathed in, and out. “Thank you for not letting it melt my face off.”

Geralt said, “any time.”

#the witcher

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joannasteez · 4 years ago

Text

𝐄𝐋𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐀𝐍 𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐒

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: EZ Reyes x Reader x Angel Reyes

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: Inspired by Jazmine Sullivan’s “Bodies - Intro”. These two characters have ruined my life.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: Mature themes. Suggestive Polyamorous relationship.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 2k

This is the Tiny Desk concert version, the original is available on streaming platforms!! Listening to the song is of course optional.

The morning had brought a nebulous strumming sensation, waving under the surface of your skin like the soft rippling of water. The sheets beneath you fingers were crisp, lucid light of the morning sun dancing to reflect against the pure white. You were wholly enraptured in a bliss only the rising of the sun could bring, till confusion, all disconcerting and worrisome, snuffed out your moment of elysian. A mild thrumming began just at the back of your head, memories refusing to surface as mild panic took hold of your senses. Your fingers still clung to the sheets, this time with more urgency, heart pulsing faster. An alluring scent, masculine, settled the air. Had it always been there? Your throat was raw, as if you'd spent the former hours screaming into the night, and by the soreness rattling in your thighs you'd say the assumption had some truth.

"How you feeling?", a voice asked. At the foot of the bed sat a man, naked save for his underwear. His name was..... it started with an E you knew that.... Ezra maybe? ....No! Ezekiel, but "everyone calls me EZ" you remember faintly.

You pulled some at the sheets, the softness covering you as you took in the room. "Ok. Heads a little foggy, bit of a headache, but I'm good".

He maneuvered to your side of the bed, handing you a short glass and a pill. "That's good. Take this, it'll help".

"Thanks".

A silence brewed then, the water remedying that rawness as it washed down the Advil. Ezekiel had been watching you with intent, soft brown eyes fluttering over your features till they landed on your lips. It made you lick at them in self awareness.

"Last night must've been crazy, I barely remember anything".

His voice was deep, resonating from his chest, tone suggestive. "I could remind you".

Dangling idly from his neck swung a slim silver chain. Your fingers hooking it to draw him near till your lips touched. His kiss was patient, a lackadaisical pace as he rolled and flicked his tongue in your mouth. He let you do as you pleased, and so you settled for sucking at the wet of his tongue in a way that reflected the dazed air of the morning. It was seductive, producing a pressure at the base of your core, but it was also light, a featherweight thing that hazed the mind, coaxing you to fall back into the comfort of the sheets. You both were parallel to the pillows, his thickly veined hands situating your body as it pleased him, broad body laying beside you. Ezekiel had a rather patient disposition about him, but from the way he kissed you again, you could sense the desperation waring in him. Threatening to unleash itself.

He pushed at your legs, spreading them as his teeth gave your skin tentative nips, lips trailing soft wet kisses till he lapped against the hardening flesh of your chest that dared to pebble under his touch. Soft circles laid at the sensitive bundle of nerves between the juncture of your legs, a whiny moan airing out of your throat. You'd become so pliant under his touch, the warmth he radiated bending your will till it became his own. He was killing the remnants of your resolve with slow passion, summoning every nerve within you to thrum and pulse to his liking. With the hard swirl of his thumb, the balling pressure in your gut began to grow, his breath fanning over your skin as he continued to kiss up and to the side plain of your neck.

"Faster", you pleaded. Hips swiveling to meet his touch in desperation.

"I love how needy you sound baby, Keep begging".

And beg you did, the rotation of your hips tight with purpose. Your high was so close and so potent you could taste it, the ache so deep, you were trembling. You nearly cursed him out in a fit of rage when he pulled his hand away, a mischievous grin taking shape to his lips as he chuckled. The sound brought faded memories of the night prior back to your remembrance, stuck in a similar situation where Ezekiel had guided you to the edge of some explosively beautiful state of euphoria only then to leave you hanging. The lack of fulfillment was maddening but still you couldn't resist his steady touch, or his kiss, and the way he overstimulated your senses as his brother watched.

His fingers rubbed through the soreness of your thighs, lips seemingly stuck at the flesh of your neck. The scent of food stuck to the air suddenly, the aroma missing your senses up till now. "Where's your brother".

He smiled against your skin. "What, am I boring you?"

"Not at all. I just smell food is all".

"Hungry?"

He swirled his tongue against a sensitive spot on your neck.

You voice was airy. "Yes"

"Ever heard the saying patience is a virtue".

'Of course he'd think it was a virtue. He's a damn tease', you thought. "I think I'm all out of both".

You both let out snickers, the small comical moment disrupted by the sudden whipping boom of the door opening. Standing in the entrance was Angel, his hands occupied with glasses of orange juice. "I'm out there slaving over the stove and you're in here seducing our guest".

EZ rose from the bed, stalking toward the door. "Angel if you burnt the eggs just say that".

"Blow me", Angel griped.

The younger brother had left, being exchanged for the older one, who'd regarded you with an intensity that wasn't present before. His energy seemed to shift the room, lean built body blocking the rays of the sun to cast a long shadow down on you. You sat there, knees pressing into the sheets as you sat back against the heels of your feet. A piece of your lip tucked under your teeth in anticipation because Angel was different from his brother. Ezekiel was patient, and tended to you with a burning desperation to be near you, as if to savor each moment . You felt it when he kissed you, the way he gripped at your skin, like the feeling had become so foreign at one point or another and now that he had you he didn't want to let go, but Angel made you patient and pliant in a different manner. While Ezekiel waited for you, you waited for Angel.

"Thirsty?", he asked. Extending a glass of juice to you. You shuffled closer, nearly at the edge of the bed as the coolness of the glass danced under your fingers to produce slight shivers when you drank.

His stare bared down on you as you took long pulling sips. Your eyes peering back beneath the fanning of your lashes. The last sip caused a single droplet to store at the corner of your lip, his finger catching absentmindedly before tasting it. He hummed at the sweet citrus flavor, placing the empty glass down before turning back to you, fingers raising to caress against your face. You leant into the touch without much thought, the warmth of it nice and easing. A thumb pulled softly at your bottom lip, his voice murmuring something about you being beautiful.

He descended to lay a rough kiss, the pace powered to his liking, the swipe and roll of his tongue domineering and heavy. He made you breathless, lips reminding you of hours before and how he loved to control every part of you. The push and pull of his fingers against your skin, the robust groan that stayed stored away in his chest drawing out long and deep whenever you reacted to his dominance. He was a passionate lover as well but had commanded a level of submission that made your head swim with delirious need. Ezekiel had left you desperate, and now Angel was here, those long rough fingers in tow, ready to push you over the edge.

He tugged at your lips, hands gripping your thighs to spread them as you stayed kneeling before him, your hands pressed into his abdomen for support. He laid deep rotating motions at your clit, the shudder of pleasure resonating on your nerves causing you to gasp. With the tight rhythm there, he delved in two fingers, the thickness of it causing you to whimper soft curses, your head lulling back at the teeming sensations. You felt your body edging, a rocking in your hips urging you to burst under him.

"Feels so good Angel", you moaned. The grip on his waist that you have growing tight. As his right hand worked you he raised the left to hold the pressured points at your neck. A squeeze that made your vision white and splotchy. You were mumbling incoherent phrases, drunk off pleasure and it spurred Angel on.

"My brother left you high and dry didn't he?", he asked. His lips tugging against the shell of your ear. "Forgive him, he's a tease, he can't help himself".

"Please Angel, I'm so close", you pleaded.

"I know baby, and you're doing so good. Such a good girl".

The praise sent you into a short bout of small convulsions, the heated pressure in your gut bursting, causing your head to rest lazily on his chest. Blissed out state consuming you. He discarded your slick release with his tongue, tasting before he placed you gently to lay against the sheets. His long fingers finding the dips and curves of your body to caress.

Ezekiel stepped in the room then, a tray of assorted breakfast foods in hand. At this you sat up, body reacting before the mind. Ezekiel placed the tray at the center of the bed, the contents thereof a beautiful assortment of fruits, cooked meats, a stacked pile of toast and a big steaming plate of scrambled eggs. You all picked at it in comfortable silence. The chirping song of birds ringing in the distance. It was nice. Perfect even.

A thought came to mind. "Is this something you guys do often?"

Angel grabbed the bowl of fruits, lifting one to your lips to taste. The juice of the fruit streamed, Angel catching it with a kiss to your chin before answering. "It's our first time sharing to be honest. We both saw you and figured it was better this way than fighting about it".

Ezekiel reached over you to grab a fruit. "Sharing is caring".

You smiled, leaning over to peck his lips. "And there's enough of me for the both of you".

Angel raised another fruit to your lips, watching as you suckled the juice of it. The soft flesh of your mouth catching his fingers. You too had entranced each other, eyes falling one into the other till you shifted on your side to kiss him. He'd paced it slow, tongue heavy as it licked and swirled to gather the taste of your lips. Soft kisses pressed into the curve of your side, Ezekiel's thick hands kneading your skin with a tugging sensation. The feeling of them both, surrounding you at every turn made your head spin in excitement. They kissed you, touched you, regarded your with such an overwhelming dynamic that, if you were anyone else you'd probably go insane.

A burning smell ruffled your nose. "What's that smell?"

Angel kept at your lips, his care else where, but Ezekiel had come to a full halt behind you, till he shot out of the bed.

"Shit I left one of the stove burners on".

You giggled and Angel shook his head, traveling down to nip at your chest. Your fingers ran through his dark locks, still giggling as you heard Ezekiel cursing in the kitchen.

"You both are so cute, can I keep y'all?"

"You couldn't get rid of us if you tried querida".

That whole morning, you'd been stuck, resting between them both, one perfection and another. Moaning and withering between the soft lips and brushing kisses of two elysian bodies.

#ez reyes #mayans mc #ezekiel reyes #angel reyes #ezekiel reyes imagine #angel reyes imagine #ez reyes x reader x angel reyes #ez reyes x reader #angel reyes x reader #ezekiel reyes x reader #joannasteez

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