#I’m just having a good day:) spreading the ✨✨✨

[gf2bellamy]

Hi, I love your Spencer fics, literally bright up my days every time I read one.

I was wondering if you could do one where bau!reader is obsessed every time Spencer wear his glasses (S2 Spencer is my weakness) like reader gets so flustered and shy when he’s around. And he KNOWS IT and he secretly does it because he likes to see reader all flushed and shy. It could be tooth-rotting sweet and the slowest of burns. I love shit like that 🤭

You can do whatever it feels right, I’m sure I’m gonna love it whatever you chose to write 💜

Thank youuuu so much ✨

glasses — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: mention of an old case , a/n: i had the best time writing this bc i fear i relate to reader too much

“Oh, God,” you mumbled under your breath as you walked into the conference room with Elle.

There he was. Spencer Reid. Sitting at the table, his glasses perched on his nose, his focus entirely on the file in front of him. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him, and you had to force yourself to keep walking, to not just stop and stare. 

Elle chuckled softly beside you, clearly noticing your reaction. “Well, this is going to be a fun day,” she said, her teasing as she gave you a playful look.

She headed straight for a seat, deliberately leaving the one next to Spencer free. Of course she did. You shot her a quick glare, but she just smirked, clearly enjoying herself. 

You hesitated for a moment, your stomach doing a little flip as you slowly made your way toward the empty seat. Spencer glanced up as you approached, his lips curving into a warm smile as you sat down next to him.

“Good morning,” he greeted you, his voice soft and warm, and your breath literally caught in your throat.

Why did he have to look so good with glasses on? It wasn’t fair. 

It took you a second too long to realize you were just staring at him like an idiot. “Hi, hello, morning,” you blurted out, your words tumbling over each other in your rush to respond.

You mentally face-palmed yourself. Smooth. Really smooth. 

But Spencer didn’t seem to notice your awkwardness—or if he did, he was too polite to mention it. He just smiled at you again before turning his attention back to the front of the room, where JJ was beginning to brief the team on the case. You were grateful for the distraction.

If Spencer had looked at you for even a second longer, you were pretty sure you would’ve passed out on the spot. 

As JJ started talking, you tried to focus on the case details, but it was hard when Spencer was sitting right next to you.

Every time he adjusted his glasses or scribbled something in his notebook, you had to force yourself to look away, to not get caught staring again. 

Elle, of course, was no help. Every time you glanced in her direction, she was smirking at you, clearly enjoying your struggle. You made a mental note to get her back later, but for now, you were too busy trying to keep your composure. 

The universe, it seemed, had it out for you.

Just thirty minutes later, you found yourself sitting in your usual window seat on the jet. But then, of course, Spencer sat down right next to you. Again. You mentally face-palmed yourself.

Why does this keep happening? 

Spencer turned to you, his glasses catching the light as he adjusted them slightly. “So, what are you reading this week?” he asked, his tone curious.

The two of you always talked about the books you were reading—it was kind of your thing—and since you hadn’t seen each other over the weekend, he was clearly eager to catch up. 

You looked up at him, and immediately regretted it.

Bad idea. Terrible idea. Awful idea.

Oh my God, how does someone look this good? The way his glasses framed his eyes, the way his hair fell just so, the way he was looking at you with that soft, expectant smile—it was too much.

The blush crept up your neck and spread across your cheeks as you quickly averted your gaze, trying to remember how to form words. 

“I, uh—” you started, your mind going completely blank. What the hell were you reading? Suddenly, you couldn’t remember a single book you’d ever read in your entire life. Your brain had officially decided to betray you. 

Spencer seemed to notice your struggle. “Oh, have you finished Lord of the Flies yet?” he asked, practically throwing you a lifeline.

“Oh, right, that book,” you said, nodding a little too enthusiastically as you toyed with the sleeve of your sweater. “No, I haven’t finished it yet.”

Spencer watched you, a small, knowing smile creeping up on his face. He might be oblivious to a lot of things—like social cues and subtle hints —but he was most definitely not oblivious to how you reacted to him when he wore glasses.

He’d noticed the way your eyes lingered on him, the way your cheeks flushed, the way you stumbled over your words. And, if he was being honest with himself, he kind of liked it. 

His smile grew wider as he saw you toying with your sleeve, a nervous habit you always had when you were flustered. It was endearing, really, and he couldn’t help but feel a little smug knowing he was the cause of it. But as much as he enjoyed seeing you like this, he decided to give you a break.

For now. 

“Well, I’ve been reading—” Spencer started, seamlessly shifting the conversation as he launched into a ramble about the latest book he’d picked up.

As Spencer continued, you noticed the way his glasses slipped down his nose every so often, and how he’d push them back up without even thinking about it. It was such a small, mundane gesture, but for some reason, it made your heart skip a beat.

Did you also mention that the universe had it out for you?

Because it seemed like your wonderful unit chief, Aaron Hotchner, had decided to join in on the cosmic joke. As the team gathered to discuss the next steps in the case, Hotch turned to you and Spencer with that calm, authoritative tone of his. “Since this is an old case, we’ll need to go through the archived files. You two will handle that. The rest of us will focus on the new leads.” 

Your stomach dropped. Of course.

Of course Hotch thought it would be a great idea to pair you and Spencer together. The case you were working on was an old one, which meant hours—possibly days—of sifting through dusty boxes of files, reports, and evidence logs.

And you’d be doing it in a small, confined room. With Spencer. Who would undoubtedly be wearing his glasses. 

The idea of being stuck in close quarters with him, surrounded by stacks of paperwork, while he looked unfairly good in those glasses, sounded like a special kind of hell. You could already feel your cheeks heating up at the thought. 

As Hotch finished speaking, Elle glanced at you, her lips curling into a knowing smile. She raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying your predicament. You shot her a frown, silently pleading for her to stop, but she just smirked and gave you a subtle thumbs-up.

Traitor, you thought. 

An hour later, you were settled in the small, dimly lit room, surrounded by stacks of case files and boxes of evidence. The two of you worked side by side, the silence occasionally broken by Spencer’s ramblings about the case.

You tried to focus, you really did, but every time he adjusted his glasses or leaned over to show you something, your brain short-circuited a little. 

At some point, Spencer stood up and left the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the mountain of paperwork.

You took the opportunity to fan your face and mutter a quick, “Get it together,” under your breath.

But just as you were starting to regain your composure, he returned, holding two cups of coffee. 

“Here,” he said, handing you one of the cups. “Be careful, it’s hot.” 

Your fingers brushed slightly as you took the cup from him, and you almost dropped the entire thing. Yep, you were officially incapable of doing anything when he was looking at you with those glasses on.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper as you took your first sip. 

Big mistake. The coffee was hot. Like, scalding-your-tongue, why-did-I-do-this kind of hot. But at least he got your order right. He always did.

As you kept working, the two of you eventually found yourselves sorting through the same box. Your hands brushed more than once as you exchanged small comments about the case, each touch sending tiny sparks up your arm. You tried to ignore it, focusing instead on the pages in front of you. 

“Wait, look at this,” you said, flipping open a file. “Isn’t that—” you paused, scanning the document. “Isn’t that connected to—” 

Spencer leaned in, peering over your shoulder. His breath was warm against your skin, and suddenly, you forgot what you were even saying. 

“No, wrong year,” he pointed out, his voice low and right next to your ear. 

“Oh—oh, right.” You blinked, forcing yourself to focus. “Didn’t see that.” 

But then you made a mistake. A terrible, life-altering mistake. You turned your head to glance at him, and—oh. Oh no. 

You were close. Too close. His face was right there, mere inches away. The soft glow of the desk lamp reflected off his glasses, highlighting his features, his slightly parted lips, the look in his eyes as he studied you. 

Panic surged through you. Nope. Nope, absolutely not. Your heart kicked into overdrive, and before you could stop yourself, you whipped your head back toward the file so fast you nearly gave yourself whiplash. 

Spencer didn’t move away. If anything, his lips quirked up slightly, amused. Oh, he knew exactly what he was doing. 

And then, before your brain could filter your thoughts, the words tumbled out. 

“You need to stop doing that.” 

The moment they left your mouth, you bit your tongue, regretting them instantly. 

Spencer raised an eyebrow, that infuriatingly small, knowing smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Doing what?” 

You opened your mouth, then closed it. Because what were you supposed to say? Looking ridiculously good in glasses? Standing too close? Making my brain short-circuit every time you exist? 

You dropped a file onto the table with a dull thud, turning to face him—oh, big mistake. Your brain short-circuited. Again.

Completely empty. Nothing. Not a single coherent thought in sight.

But somehow, by some miracle, you managed to get one word out. 

“That,” you muttered, forcing yourself to look away again. 

Spencer was enjoying this. You could feel it. He was getting closer—closer to making you say it out loud, the thing he knew you were dancing around. And God help you, the teasing glint in his eyes told you he wasn’t about to let this go. 

“That?” he echoed, feigning innocence, his voice lilting in playful curiosity. 

You swallowed hard. He was pretending not to know, dragging this out like some kind of game. And you made the fatal mistake of looking at him again. 

That was it. Game over. 

Your eyes locked onto his, and the world around you seemed to blur. The corners of his lips were twitching like he was holding back a smirk. The glasses only made it worse—made him worse. The soft glow of the desk lamp reflected against them as he waited for you to crack. 

And, of course, you did. 

“God, where are your contacts?” you blurted out before you could stop yourself. 

The moment the words left your mouth, your stomach dropped. Oh. Oh no. 

Spencer blinked, then—he laughed. 

You shut your eyes, mortified. Maybe if you pretended hard enough, the universe would grant you a reset button. 

But no. That wasn’t happening. 

You forced yourself to open your eyes again, only to find him looking down at you, his face still lit up with amusement, his lips curled into a small, knowing smile. 

“I left them at home,” Spencer said, his voice still carrying traces of laughter. 

Then, as if to drive the dagger even deeper, he added, “I thought you liked my glasses better.” 

Your mouth fell open. 

What. 

There were no thoughts. Only static. 

Spencer tilted his head again, watching your reaction with barely concealed amusement. You could practically feel the smugness radiating off of him, and it was infuriating. 

“I—what—” you stammered, unable to form a single cohesive sentence. 

His grin widened. Yeah, he knew exactly what he was doing. 

And you? You were done for. 

You opened and closed your mouth like a fish out of water, desperately searching for a response—any response—that wouldn’t make you sound like a complete idiot. But your brain had officially abandoned you. 

Spencer just stood there, watching you with that infuriating little smirk, completely and utterly enjoying himself. 

“Oh my God,” you groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “You know what you’re doing.” 

Spencer blinked at you innocently. Too innocently. “I really don’t,” he said, but his tone was dripping with amusement. 

You squinted at him, crossing your arms. “You do.” 

His lips twitched. “Do I?” 

You let out an exasperated sigh, turning away as if that would help you escape this absolute nightmare of a conversation. But you weren’t that lucky. 

Because, of course, Spencer took a step closer. 

Your heart nearly stopped. 

The small archive room suddenly felt way too small. The scent of his cologne, the warmth radiating off of him—it was all-consuming, and your body reacted before your brain could catch up. You stiffened, fingers tightening around the file you’d completely forgotten you were holding. 

Spencer’s voice dropped just slightly, lower, smoother, as he leaned in a fraction closer. “So… you don’t like my glasses?” 

You turned back to him, already shaking your head. “I didn’t say that.” 

“Hmm.” He tapped a thoughtful finger against his chin. “So you do like them.” 

You gasped. “That’s not—” You stopped yourself before you could dig your own grave even deeper. 

But Spencer was grinning now. He had you. He knew he had you. 

“You’re blushing,” he pointed out, oh so smugly. 

“Am not,” you shot back immediately. Which was a bold lie, considering your face felt like it was on fire. 

Spencer’s grin widened. “You are.” 

You groaned, letting your head fall back in defeat. “You’re insufferable.” 

“I’ve been told,” he said, completely unbothered. 

For a moment, you just stood there, arms crossed, staring him down like you could somehow will him into dropping this whole thing. But Spencer Reid was nothing if not persistent. And very entertained. 

Finally, you sighed, deciding the only way out of this was to own it. “Fine.” You lifted your chin. “Maybe I do like your glasses. So what?” 

Spencer’s eyes lit up, and you immediately regretted saying anything at all. 

“Oh,” he said, slow and teasing, his voice practically dripping with satisfaction. “That’s… interesting.” 

You scowled. “Shut up.” 

He just beamed. “I didn’t say anything.” 

“You’re thinking things.” 

“I think things all the time.” 

You let out an exasperated sigh, shoving a case file into his chest. “Read, Dr. Reid. Before I murder you with this very heavy binder.” 

Spencer chuckled, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Anything to distract you from my unbearable attractiveness, I suppose.” 

Your jaw dropped. “Spencer!” 

But he was already flipping through the file like nothing had happened, looking far too pleased with himself. 

And you? You were never going to live this down. 

[girlboypersonthingy]

crawls into ask box

hi can i request for sal fisher w a s/o who likes to trace his face scars with their fingers 😎

YES YES YES I want this so bad, I wish this were me sooooo baaadddddd 😮‍💨 thanks for all the Sally face requests I’ve been getting! I’m living for it. If you’ve requested, I’ll get to it soon. Promise ✨ enjoy~

Notes: established relationship, first time saying ‘I love you’, tons of fluff, short little drabble

TW: spit (Sal drools a lil 😚)

Sal x reader- Quality Time

After a long day of you working and Sal having class, it was finally late and quiet, finally time to unwind and spend some quality time with your darling boyfriend. You sat in his bed, playing on his gearboy to pass the time as he took a shower. Gizmo is cuddled up next to your thigh, softly purring while you play your game. As you were just getting invested in the hand held game, the door swung open and in came Sal with wet blue hair dipping onto his black over sized t-shirt, wearing just the shirt and a pair of baggy blue boxers.

“Feeling better?” You glance at him for a moment then back to the game. “Yeah, I’m tired now.” Sal replies as he rubs the excess water out of his long hair with his towel, quickly throwing it aside before climbing on the bed with you. He didn’t hesitate in laying on his back and resting his head in your lap, watching as you continue your game. Besides the intense music and sound effects coming from the gearboy, it became quiet between you two, pleasantly quiet and calm.

You were so caught up in completing the level you’re currently on that you didn’t even notice that Sal had shifted his gaze from the game in your hand to your face above him, taking time to admire it all scrunched into a focused expression. He stared up at you for what felt like hours, taking in the view of you licking your lips and raising your brows. Your face is so pretty, so soft and whole, pretty much flawless in his opinion. As a smile crept up his cheeks, it was his soft sigh of contentment that made you glance down at him. From your point of view, his bare face was upside down with his head resting in your lap and his hair all pushed back- nothing was obstructing your view of his messily scarred face.

Quickly, you found yourself locked into his gaze, staring back down at him as his smile got bigger, revealing his teeth even more through the missing flesh of his cheek. Now your own lips are spreading wider, a wave of butterflies coursing through your stomach as you blink at him. “W-what?” You ask in reference to his loving stare. Sal takes a moment to answer, softly chucking first when the sound effects of defeat come from the gearboy still in your hand.

“You’re just really cute.” He finally responds, making you toss the gearboy aside and fully focus on him. You’re smiling so big now, it’s hard to keep your eyes open enough to see him. “No, you are.” And your hands find their place on his cheeks, your thumbs gently stroking his uneven skin, making Sal’s eyes gradually close as he relaxes under your fingertips.

For what felt like hours, you stayed this way- your fingers gently tracing over every scar and every part of his face that had never healed back over. Finger tips lightly ticking his forehead, your hands softly rubbing under his chin before circling back to his cheeks, all the while both of your smiles are unchanging. “Feel good, Sally?” Sal hums in response, eyes still closed as he feels himself getting sleepy.

It was relaxing for both of you- the different textures of his skin felt so unique to your hands. His bright and shiny molars caught your attention as they peak through the gaping hole in his cheek. It was then that you noticed a bit of drool pooling on the side of his cheek where his teeth were exposed, his breathing steady and nearly silent now. He was falling asleep.

“I love you.” It leaves your mouth as a breathy confession, making Sal open his eyes, one empty socket and a dull blue eye staring up at you. His expression changes rapidly from a look of surprise and excitement to one of adoration and endearment. His brows relax, his face begins to turn pink as he shifts his gaze away. He hasn’t replied yet so you nervously open your mouth again, hands still resting on his cheeks. “Sorry, you…you’re j-just so gorgeous.”

Sal turns his head to the side fast, using one of his hands to cover his crimson face. A soft groan leaves him and he pauses before speaking. “Stoooppp.” You would stop if it wasn’t for his smile showing from beneath his large hand, you could hear the giddy smirk in his voice when he spoke. So you decide to keep the sappy romance going. Carefully, leaving him time to stop you, you pull his hand away and continue gently stoking his cheek again. Silence falls between you two for a moment before Sal turns his head so he’s looking up at you again.

“I love you too.” His eyes are closed now and he seems relaxed again, his blushing cheeks having calmed down a bit thanks to your calming touch. Leaning over him slowly, you let your eyes close as you go for a kiss. Sal opens up his eye for a second to see you leaning in and he sits up ever so slightly to meet you in the middle. Your lips slowly part against each other’s, moving in different rhythms but somehow matching up perfectly. Your hands slide from his cheeks to behind his head, fingers tangled in his wet locks as you’re holding his face up to yours. You both savor the moment, hearts starting to beat faster and faster. Seconds later, you part with a soft gasp coming from both of you.

Something about you complimenting his bare face while also touching it and telling him you love him…makes him wanna put a ring on that finger immediately. He never thought he’d find a love like you and while he isn’t totally sure what he’s doing here, he wants to be with you like this forever.

[amostnobleyandere]

Persephone, Swept Away Into the Deep

Yandere! Wriothesley x GN! Reader

Summary: You’re a florist who catches the eye of the Duke, ruler of the underworld in Fontaine—and as the object of his affection, there’s nothing you can do to avoid your fate.

Warning(s): yandere, toxic behavior, possessive behavior, mention of blood, violence (Wriothesley beats someone up), stalking, obsessive behavior, unjust execution of the law, possessive behavior, corrupt official Wriothesley (?), drugging (needle injection), kidnapping, captivity, implied stalking, non-consensual touching, forced romantic relationship

A/N: I’m not sure if I did a good job at translating the themes ✨ of the hades and Persephone myth (however slight they may be in this particular fanfic) but I tried ;)

—————————

Every happy customer that came out of your shop would inevitably spread your business through tongue—that’s just the way things worked in Fontaine.

Of course, you weren’t complaining. You were running a thriving business and their lively conversations often brought you joy and pride. The little gardener on off of main street, the florist who sells the most beautiful bouquets you’ve ever seen, the flower shop tucked away like a hidden gem, they’d say, fondness in their tone and the echo of good memories in their minds.

You were proud of the lifestyle you had made for yourself and the reputation you had garnered. Your natural green thumb had made your shop quite popular among commoners and socialites alike, as anyone of any class could stroll inside to find something for a person precious to them; whether it was a child, a spouse, a friend, or an infatuation, you had helped mold their stories, crafting and shifting them around petals and bows.

Though some days, you let yourself dream. Of petals and bows, not meant for someone else, but meant for you. Though your business had seen many love stories, its owner had yet to find a love of their own.

On your worst days, you scoffed and thought to yourself about how ironic your life was.

But…some days, your aching romantic heart would have you sighing wistfully as you watched customer after customer buy carefully cultivated blooms to gift to their beloved. They would leave gleefully, only for you to remain in your shop, watching them walk out with a piece of you. A piece that you wanted to give to your own special someone.

Always watching, never experiencing.

And then suddenly, everything you had built was being torn down by the one thing you desired the most.

—————————

On a day that was insultingly ordinary considering the damning events that followed it, you were sitting in your shop, furiously pruning flowers and cutting stems and leaves. You were a little behind in work, so you had kept your shop open later than you usually would.

A festival was going to be thrown at the center of the city, and that meant you were busier than ever. Business was slow at the time, but it always picked up during events, as it was common for people to take advantage of the merry mood and ask out the apple of their eye, or propose, or buy a bouquet just to enjoy life.

And your bouquets were certainly beautiful, as you had heard from the many couples that walked into your shop, fawning over the arrangements and each other. You were sure you would see many lovers come into your shop once the joyous celebrations began.

You sighed, feeling the solitude of the your profession begin to seem depressing. It made you happy knowing your creations would be appreciated, yet, you knew the festival would end up torturing your heart with the same stale loneliness you often felt.

Friends had invited you to come with them to enjoy the festival together, so you weren’t all alone. Ultimately, you had declined.

Business would be booming.

…Plus, it wouldn’t be as special if you couldn’t go with someone special. It would only hurt to go out into the bustling streets and to see all those people holding hands, touching arms, carrying your bouquets, while your side was cold and your hands were empty…

You snipped at a rainbow rose a little too hard, hissing as the tip of the shears nicked your finger. You watched in mild panic and exasperation as the blood began to fill the small cut, feeling a sting form in your finger. Reaching for the medical kit you kept close by, you swiftly treated and bandaged yourself, watching the gauze go from white to a bright red.

Shaking your head, you waved away the pain and your nasty thoughts. You were sure your friends would be fine without you and, more than anything, you needed to be here to sell your flowers. It would be a waste to throw out your beautiful blooms because you let them wither, and soon customers would be grabbing for them…and who knows? Maybe you might meet someone.

Maybe you would even find someone to enjoy the festival with….

You heard the telltale ding of a bell and looked up, peaking out from behind the wall of floral remains you had constructed around yourself.

A man walked into the shop, and the first thing you noticed is that he was handsome. And big. Like, slightly intimidating big. A large, built stature, with broad shoulders and heavy boots on long legs. You pinched yourself, feeling your cheeks slightly heat up. Who were you to get flustered? And by a stranger? Pull it together.

“Hello!” You greeted cheerily, thankfully turning on your usual customer service voice without problem. “How can I help you today?”

“You’re still open?” The man asked, a note of surprise in his voice. The question sounded weirdly familiar for it to be spoken by a stranger, but you chose to ignore it. Plenty of people knew your hours, it wouldn’t be odd for one of them to send a new customer over.

You paused, taking him in. The stranger was tall, dark, and brooding, a person that looked strangely out of place in your little safe haven that was crammed to the brim with mosaics of colorful flora.

However, his eyes were the clearest color you had ever seen. They were like steel in their cool quickness, taking seconds to size you up. You unconsciously shrunk under the pressure of his gaze. Still, you smiled up at him.

“Yes, sir. We’re still open. What can I get for you?”

“Well, to tell you the truth, I’m not exactly sure. I came here because of a recommendation; they say you’re the best in town, with the freshest flowers. I’m guessing you outsource from the country?”

“No, sir. I grow them myself.” You said, still smiling sweetly.

A flash of recognition behind those steel eyes. “Ah. You’re the owner then?”

“Yes, sir.”

He hummed, looking away in thought. “I’d like an all blue bouquet—something with an air of delicacy to it. Nothing too fancy, just something pretty and light.”

That sounded…really romantic. Delicate? Pretty? Those were words people used to describe bouquets with romantic intentions behind them. You had heard them time and time again, as you carefully put together arrangements and your customer fawned over the person it was for, tone sugary sweet. Those words never failed to clog up your chest with a bitter jealously.

A feeling of disappointment filled your chest and your heart sank. Of course, he was already going with someone. It seemed that everyone, except for you, had a date for the festival. Of course. That made sense. Anyone that good looking would most likely have a date—

You smiled, sweeping away the disappointment and putting back on a false merry face. You had just met this man, really. What was there to be sad about? You decided to fill the silence that was quickly making you want to curl up into a ball and hide.

“So you’ve got a date for the festival? I’m sure they’ll love it, since you seem to know what they’ll like. Can I get a name for the order?”

“Wriothesley. And, no. I haven’t got a date.”

Your brain short circuited.

“But you’re so good looking?” You blurted out, the thought in your head coming out of your mouth without warning.

Wriothesley looked momentarily stunned, and you wanted to scream. Of all the times to embarrass yourself in front of a cute guy, it had to be now—

“A-Ah!” You stuttered out. “I’m sorry! Sometimes my mouth moves faster than my brain! I just said what I was thinking, I hope you’re not insulted by it…or uncomfortable….not that I meant to insult you—“

He laughed, the sound startling you. When he looked at you again, he seemed less guarded, his eyes shining with mirth as he gazed at you with interest. Oh, and that smile. Oh wow. That. Wow.

“You know, people are usually too afraid to say stuff like that to my face. Or really, they’re too afraid to say anything to my face. Guess I was just lucky to meet you today, huh?” He grinned and let his voice drop as he spoke. The glint in his eyes turned bright, like a dancing flame. He leaned into your space, letting one arm rest on the counter.

You felt the smooth words roll down your back and over your skin, excitement or fear (or maybe a mix of both) running up your spine and through the rest of your body.

You laughed, trying to play off his words as if they were meant to be friendly. (At least, you thought they were meant to be friendly.) Maybe the naturally deep tone of his voice and his intimidating aura made your brain misinterpret harmless words as…predatory.

You grinned. “Well, I don’t know about luck, but everyone deserves a compliment every once in a while, right?”

He leaned back, that dangerous glint disappearing into his eyes as if it was never there. He crossed his arms, looking smug.

“Right.”

Silence filled the air again, and your curiosity got the best of you quickly.

“Goodness, I’m sorry but who is this for then?”

He chuckled and you were immediately relieved that he wasn’t annoyed with you. People didn’t like it when others pried into their business. The thought of Wriothesley with his leather boots, pretty face, and icy eyes glaring at you with disdain nearly sent you into shock.

“It’s for…a co-worker, you could say.” He continued. “She does a lot for me and I thought it might be nice to get her a gift to show my appreciation. Everyone’s in a good mood with the festival coming around, so I might as well, you know?” He smiled. “Sorry to disappoint you, though. No romantic feelings involved.”

You nodded, a weird feeling of relief filling your chest after finding out that a man you didn’t know and that you probably would never see again did not have a date for the festival.

Maybe you were just glad to know that you wouldn’t be the only person going without a partner.

You began to gather sample flowers, spreading them out between you fingers and taking comfort in the familiar weight of them in your hands.

“Not disappointed at all.” I’m also single, you thought, but thankfully didn’t say out loud. “I guess I’ve just gotten so used to lovebirds walking into my shop, I was surprised you weren’t one of them.”

“Because of my face?” He asked, amusement seeping into his tone. You wanted to smack that smile right off of his smug, beautiful face. Of course, you wouldn’t, because that would be a crime to everyone else who had eyes. You couldn’t mess up that piece of art.

You nodded, your face burning. “Because of your face.” You confirmed.

“Well, I’m flattered.” He said.

You thrusted the sample flowers out in front of you, mortified that he was making your already embarrassing situation worse with teasing.

“Pick out the ones you like.” You said, your face practically on fire.

He did, without further comment at that, but a smirk pulled at his lips the entire time. He looked at you, with that grin molded onto his perfect lips, more than he did the flowers in your hands.

He refrained from torturing you with teasing remarks for the rest of the conversation, and when you told him it would be ready for pick up in a few hours, he gently placed a bag of mora on the counter.

Only when he was walking out the door did you realize how much mora he had given you.

Your eyes bulged as you peeked into the bag, nearly fainting at the amount. Who carries this much on them?! What if he had gotten robbed?! Well, he would probably never get robbed looking like…that, but still.

“Hey!! Wait—Sir!! You gave me way too much!”

He waved as he closed the door behind him, the bell ringing cheerily as he ignored you protests without even turning around.

You stood gaping behind the counter. You turned to the bag, determinedly picking out the correct amount and putting the rest away so that you could throw it at him when he came back. Not his face, though. Never his face.

A few hours later, he came back, his face neutral and undisturbed, like nothing in the world could move him to react.

He saw you, and his expression twitched and changed, looking just as smug as when he left.

You wordlessly pushed his bouquet, which you had worked extra hard on out of spite, not because you wanted him to like it or anything, towards him. Again, without saying anything, you pushed the bag of mora back towards him.

He quirked an eyebrow but kept his mouth shut, also determined to win the quiet challenge that you had started. He (rather cheekily) slid the bag back towards you, a smile fighting to pull onto his face.

You, more forcefully this time, slid the bag back towards him, face betraying no emotion.

Eyes sparking with amusement, he held out his hand.

Oh my Archons. You thought. What does that mean? He doesn’t want to….does he? You hesitatingly raised your hand in response, suspicious of the man in front of you. He gently slid his hand under yours, making your heart pound in your rib cage. His gloves covered most of his hand, but the skin that did touch you was startlingly cold. Your skin downright tingled where his touched yours.

Whether it was from the temperature or just him, you didn’t know.

He placed the bag of mora in your hands, a graceless plop and a cheerily jingle sounding through the quiet room.

Okay. You take it back. This mora was going directly at his face.

“This mora is going right at your face.”

“What?”

“What?” You parroted. Inside, you were crying. The first time you’ve ever threatened a customer and it’s the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.

He chuckled, the sound low and deep and long and archons even his laugh sounded angelic.

“I could’ve sworn you just—“

“I didn’t.” You cut him off, panicking. You pushed the bouquet towards him, hiding behind it. “Enjoy your day. Thank you for your purchase. Have fun at the festival.”

“…Thanks.” He said, still amused, but following your lead and taking the flowers from your waiting hands. For a moment, maybe on purpose, his hands brushed yours, the touch sending a spark of electricity up and down your arms, making your heart beat faster….Must have been the cold from his skin, sending you into shock or something.

He left the shop (without the bag of mora) and you wistfully thought that you would never see that beautiful face again, kicking yourself for not asking him out. You were both single, right? Right??

Ultimately, you went home with the same familiar wistful feeling that soon turned to giddiness at having almost held hands with such a handsome man—his personality was odd but that could be overlooked.

Overall, it was a good day.

——————————

Except he was there the next day.

And the next.

….And the next.

Everyday he would order a bouquet of a different color. Once he ran out of colors, he began grilling you on what kinds of flower combinations you liked best. You would tell him, practically shaking while trying to prevent yourself from imploding, and that’s what he would order. He spent an enormous amount of money at your shop as the ridiculous mora bag battles continued (you were going to throw it at his face, you really were. You just needed to muster up the courage).

He would take the flowers home, and you would be left with a burning face and a quivering heart.

Then one day he asked you if you would like to go out. With him. Together. And you said yes, tying a bow around his order with trembling hands as a strangling giddiness filled up your entire chest.

So, you went to the festival with him right after work.

For the first time in weeks you were closing the shop and stepping out into the fresh air during the middle of the day.

You had an amazing time.

You found out that Wriothesley was extremely funny, and that his dry, sarcastic wit could have you doubling over and laughing in seconds. You found out that he liked tea like, a lot. Like a concerning amount. You found out that the co-worker he gave the first of many bouquets to is a melusine and a nurse. You found out that he talked to the Chief Justice regularly and somehow knew a lot of important people.

You explained to Wriothesley that you actually did have a life outside of flowers. You told him about your friends, your hobbies, and whatever else you could think of in the moment, feeling comfortable with him after just a few hours together.

He bought you food, somehow correctly guessing your tastes at every stall you visited. When you protested and offered to buy him something in return, he merely shook his head with a smile and said you could buy him lunch another day.

You walked together through the streets under golden lights, eating delicious food and buying trinkets. At the end of the night, you tentatively inched your hand toward his, and he interlaced your fingers together, holding your warm palm against his cold one tightly.

You felt yourself grinning like an idiot, thinking that absolutely nothing could change the way you were feeling.

Everything was going great until you got back to your shop, laughing and chatting idly with the man beside you.

Your heart stopped as you realized that something was wrong, and your hand left Wriothesley’s for the first time that night as you ran towards the open door.

The entire place had been ransacked. The money in the cash register was gone. Your precious flowers—countless blooms that you had taken the time to grow and cut had either been stolen or trampled on. One window had been smashed in with a brick. You lifted up your foot, feeling the shattered glass break into smaller shards under the pressure—Archons, it was everywhere. Luckily, the small vault you keep most of your savings in was still closed but dented in multiple places and on its side.

You nearly collapsed on the floor right then and there. It was only Wriothesley, who caught you as you were falling to the ground, that kept you from completely breaking down. You were mourning. All of your flowers. All of your hard work, ripped from your hands, without so much as a warning.

You felt rage and misery burn in your chest, resulting in hot tears running down your face as you pathetically picked up the ruined flowers scattered across the shop floor. Next to you, shadow cast Wriothesley’s face in darkness, hiding his expression from view. You heard him assure you that he would take care of it, that he would fix all of this for you, as he told you not to worry in that perpetually assertive tone of his. Your muddled and distressed mind immediately clung onto it like a life line, desperate for something to ground you.

Wriothesley would take care of it, you told yourself. If not him, then who would help you?

—————————

You found out soon after that the man who had robbed you was a rival store owner whose business had gone under ever since you had moved in. His storefront was situated on one of the more populated streets, streets that saw more foot traffic and that attracted customers of a higher class. Still, he had been losing to you, a small shop on some nowhere street, for months. In the end, arrogance and jealousy had driven him to attempt destroying your business.

Whether it be from fear and intimidation, or hopelessness from losing all the money you had made in the past couple months, he had hoped that you would chose to pack up and leave after he ruined the inside of your shop.

Fortunately, he was not a master criminal. A few shop owners on your street had seen his face and identified him to the guards. According to rumors you had heard from friends, he fought the guards during his arrest, shouting that he was not some lowly commoner to be pushed around. The guards and some mysteriously clothed people flooded around him, dragging him to the court house and sentencing him within the hour. He was allowed to go back to his shop, as his home was above it, but was put on house arrest for the time being and had guards stationed outside of every window to await further punishment.

It had happened so…quickly.

Wriothesley, during all of this, was very supportive.

—————————

It all came crashing down on the last night of the festival, a week after you had been robbed.

You were in the process of walking home before you realized that you had left your keys in your bag.

…Which was at the shop.

…That you would have to go back to.

Groaning, you made yourself turn around and trek back towards the storefront so that you could actually get into your house.

As you walked down the main strip of stalls and shops, you realized with a bitter heart that you would have to pass the shop of the man who made your life hell to get there and back quickly. You were glad that he had been caught and sentenced swiftly, but you were still incredibly angry about the damage that had been done to your business. The mental and emotional wounds left from the shock of seeing everything you had worked for destroyed were still fresh.

You fastened your pace as the night lamps began to turn on, the sky quickly turning dark as they became your only source of light. You knew the city was mostly a safe place to live, but that didn’t mean crime never happened, and it would be just your luck for you to get robbed a second time.

Then there was shouting.

You slowed your pace as you heard a voice echo off the tall buildings, only amplifying the panicked screams.

Uh oh. Had you walked right into a crime scene?

You looked around you, noticing that there were no guards in sight. Hopefully they had noticed the trouble and were taking care of it.

You sighed. You really needed to get into your house, as you weren’t too keen on sleeping on a bench for the night. Cursing whatever being had brought this upon you, you continued forward, walking in the shadows and hoping to avoid whatever drama was happening near the home of the man who had robbed you.

You turned a corner, freezing as you took in the sight of a group of men huddled together, seemingly trying to apprehend someone—

Wait. Was that—

You recognized that figure—those boots—that coat…

What was your boyfriend doing here in the middle of the night?

Swiftly, you moved back out of the light, eyes trained on the man you could now clearly recognize. You watched as Wriothesley raised his fist, his knuckles connecting harshly with someone’s jaw. You startled at the harsh noise of skin splitting skin.

You felt yourself flinch as blood splattered across the pavement. For a moment, you were grateful for the imposing figures blocking your view of the violent scene.

The victim was splayed across the stone due to the force of the blow, thrown right into the circle of people that had formed around him, pathetically whimpering as he tried to pick himself up.

You watched as he was dragged away, looking genuinely terrified, screaming bloodcurdling words as he went mad with fear. His pleas fell on deaf ears as those around him stood still, Wriothesley silently watching as he was picked up and thrown into the back of a carriage. The door squealed as he yelled that he didn’t deserve it, didn’t deserve to go to the Fortress of Meropide, please—doors slamming shut, cutting off his final sentence as the men and the carriage disappeared into the night.

Wriothesley stood under a street light, a short distance away from where you hid in the shadows. His body was tense, his back drawn tight as he gazed at the retreating carriage, with the man he had assaulted and doomed to a life in prison lying within.

You stumbled back, you feet scuffling against the pavement. The noise sounded like an explosion in the dead quiet of the street.

His entire body stilled. He turned around, almost in slow motion, his eyes widening in horror as your gazes met.

You spun on your heel and ran, heart pounding in your chest. Heavy footfalls followed you, leather hitting stone with threatening thumps that seemed to get closer to you with every passing second.

You got to your shop, flinging open the door and rushing to the back of the building, heading towards the closet where you kept all of your supplies. Hearing the bell above your door chime mockingly, signaling that Wriothesley was in your shop oh Archons, you slammed the door shut and locked it from the inside.

For some reason, you could have never imagined him being so violent. You were shocked and terrified, seeing your new boyfriend, who you had only ever thought of as safe, as anything but. Now you knew. He was dangerous. You were so stupid for trusting a complete stranger—

You heard him run towards your hiding place, calling out to you as the heavy foot falls slowed to a stop.

“Y/N.” He said, voice calm and level, betraying no emotion at all. It was like he was discussing the weather and hadn’t just chased you down the street.

Your breathe hitched in your throat. Somewhere, in your frayed mind, you hoped, prayed he would just go if you were quiet enough—

“I never meant for you to see that. I’m sorry. Let me explain.”

The doorknob began to turn. It stopped, hitting the lock.

You heard rustling and then a faint jangle as Wriothesley stepped away from the door.

You had left your keys in your bag.

The bag was on the counter, the keys were in your bag—

….He knew where you kept your keys?

You had never told him that.

The door knob began to turn. You grabbed onto the it with a white-knuckled grip, stopping it from the inside.

Your heart thrummed in your chest, beating rapidly as you desperately held onto the cool metal.

“Leave me alone!” Please was left unsaid. You shouted the words, terror making you shake and tremble.

Wriothesley fell silent. You heard him lean his weight against the door, his movements causing it to creak.

The doorknob stopped turning.

You prayed that he wouldn’t try to force it, or worse, break the door down. You didn’t know if it would hold, or if you could hold on, considering how strong he was.

You imagined his hulking figure standing outside, only a few mere inches of wood separating you, towering over you from your spot on the floor.

You were practically paralyzed with fear, and didn’t know what you would do if he actually managed to get in and get his hands on you—

“Damn it, I ruined it all, didn’t I?” Wriothesley murmured.

You jumped, not expecting the despairing admission amidst your racing thoughts that were trying to pinpoint where you had went wrong in life.

His usually playful voice was monotone, eerily flat for the self deprecating words he spoke.

You didn’t deign him with a response. You merely listened to the quiet that followed, feeling more scared than you would have been if he had been raging and banging on the door. There was something about the silence; something about it felt foreboding, like a threat was creeping up behind you and you couldn’t hear it no matter how hard you tried.

You heard him turn away a few minutes later, heavy footfalls walking towards the door, and finally the bell signaling his departure.

For a few minutes, you sat there and waited.

Eventually, you opened the closet just a sliver, looking out into the dim lighting with flickering eyes, checking every possible corner that he could be hiding in. He wasn’t there. He wasn’t in here.

You slid out of the closet and almost immediately ducked behind the counter, still shaking from the adrenaline pumping through your veins.

Shakily, you peeked out from behind the counter, checking for any sign of him outside. When you found the street to be devoid of him, you silently gasped in relief.

You ripped your keys out of the door with rushed hands.

You went home alone, without Wriothesley, who had taken it upon himself to personally walk you there almost every night of the week. A part of it felt strange to deviate from the routine, but you needed no reminder to know that the man you had trusted and spent time with all week was now a dangerous threat. You ran to the door of your home, opening it hurriedly and slamming it shut.

You tossed and turned as you slept that night, a doomed feeling settling in your churning stomach.

—————————

The next day, you took measures to start rebuilding. Perhaps you were just frantic to get back to some sense of normalcy after having the rug ripped out from under you the other night—or maybe you were desperate to have something to keep your mind off of the buzzing anxiety that was constantly gnawing at the back of your mind.

The man who broke in had already been put on trial and sentenced to an undetermined amount of time in the Fortress of Meropide, and had also been forced to cough up more than enough mora to cover the damages.

This, oddly enough, had all been told to you by a third party, someone hired by the court to watch over legal proceedings.

Someone was pulling the strings behind the case, and you didn’t want to think about who it was, just in case the pieces started falling together. (Deep down, you already knew.)

When you had heard he was being sent to the Fortress, you felt something in your gut twist unpleasantly, a kind of stone-like anxiety that weighed and sunk a permanent pit in your stomach. People who went there didn’t usually come back, or if they did, they weren’t the same. They weren’t viewed the same, either. What would happen to him once he came back? If he came back?

You shivered as the memory of him being dragged away resurfaced.

You sighed as you swept up errant pieces of class, determined to discard of every shard before you allowed any more precious customers or flowers to come through the door. The window had already been replaced, as a very nervous man had knocked on your door a few days after the…incident with Wriothesley, and claimed that he had been sent to repair it. You hadn’t even talked to anyone about fixing the window. A sinking feeling appeared in your chest as you watched the jumpy man chip away at glass and wood, his movements tense and swift. When you went to close the shop, you checked if you had locked the door three separate times before rushing home, practically running through the stone streets, running from absolutely nothing at all.

There was no sign of Wriothesley during the months it took your shop to recover. You were glad that he had taken what you had said to him in your moment of fear seriously. Still, you feared that he would show up on some random day, at some random time, and catch you off guard. That you would be reminded of the violence that seemed to follow him like a shadow, leaving trails of devastation in his wake.

Everyday you went home glancing over your shoulder while walking briskly down the street, always making sure to make it home before dark.

—————————

You unlocked the door to your home, hurriedly glancing behind you as you shoved the keys into the lock, pushing the door in quickly as it gave way. You closed and locked the door behind you, allowing yourself to relax minutely against the cool frame.

“Back so soon? I noticed you’ve been closing earlier nowadays. What’s that about?”

You froze, an ice cold fear creeping through your veins.

There, sitting in the dark of your unlit living room, was the man you had been simultaneously avoiding and thinking about constantly for months.

You could make out the silhouette of his hulking figure, leaning back into your favorite chair with his fingers laced together and knees spread apart, relaxed and causal. His eyes, which always held a mildly scrutinizing gaze, had turned razor sharp—they hadn’t moved from you since the moment you had stepped into the room. You were a pinned butterfly under that look, being dissected and picked apart by glacial, stormy irises.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, your voice coming out a little more shakily than intended. You tried not to hyperventilate. You really tried, but you could already feel your chest tightening, like just being in his presence was suffocating—

He stood up. Rooted in place, you didn’t dare move. If you tried to run, you knew he would catch you.

He moved towards you slowly, like he knew just as well as you did that you couldn’t escape.

He stopped a foot away from you, his height easily trumping yours, his figure casting a large, beastly shadow in the dim lighting.

You tilted your head back to look him in the eye. Even now, those icy eyes were beautiful. You thought it was unfair. Now that you knew what he was, what he was capable of, you thought, his eyes should come as warning. They were the eyes of a predator. And yet, still cold and steely, clear like cryo vision that hung from his hip, which you had never even seen until now.

Still beautiful, reminding you of clear water and arctic oceans and quiet. It was so quiet.

Neither of you spoke. Neither of you dared to break the careful silence.

He reached up, curled fingers gently caressing your cheek, dragging down along the side of your neck, as if a simple touch with too much force behind it would shatter you.

His eyes flickered to the place where your shirt had lifted to expose your collarbone, coat hanging off your shoulders and pulling the fabric down.

He ran his fingers over the exposed skin, making you shiver as you felt rough, calloused pads run across you gingerly, lightly. A delicate touch from a hardened man. He looked back at you, his eyes soft. Intense. Adoring. He had moved closer in the last few seconds, you remarked. You only noticed because you had to crane your head up more to look at him. His chest touched yours. He leaned down, ghosting his lips over your forehead. His hand had moved. One had settled on your waist, holding and trapping you close to him.

You felt a prick in the side of your neck, vision going black as you collapsed into his arms.

—————————

The next time you woke up, you weren’t in your house anymore. There was gauzy, heavy fabric hanging above you. You had been placed in a canopy bed in a room that was expensively furnished, and yet somehow untouched. You were in a bed, which was in a prison, at the bottom of the ocean.

Wriothesley walked in only an hour after you woke. You had a feeling he had been routinely checking to see if you were awake.

He looked down at you, his eyes painfully tender in a way that you regretted not noticing before. There was a fondness, a suffocating fondness, which told you that all those things he now whispered to you at night—how he wanted to protect you, how he had longed to have you for so long, how he had been watching you from afar with his heart in his hands, just waiting for the right moment to give it to you—

His eyes told you that they were all true.

Somehow, you couldn’t hate him.

Wriothesley had been living as a lonely prisoner in his own kingdom—his underwater kingdom that he ruled, because he thrived on the depths of the cold, dark ocean and its inhabitants that yielded to his power.

And yet the king of the underworld yearned for just a little bit of life. Life that you were familiar with—life that you thrived off of, and that thrived in return under your guidance. Life that you loved.

Life that had attracted you to him.

You didn’t know if anyone still talked about you on the surface; if they talked about your existence, or more so your disappearance, in hushed whispers with shifty eyes. No one talked about you down here—no one knew you existed, except for the head nurse and your husband.

You had been stolen away, under the ocean, that little shop off main street missing its owner forevermore.

You, who had always been surrounded by the life of the surface, had been transported to the underworld, a land of misery and lost souls, away from all life, surrounded and trapped by the love you once longed for—and mourning the life you once had.

—————————

Reader: *lets go of Wriothesley’s hand bc they got robbed*

Wriothesley: oh this jerk is gonna pay *sends the guy who robbed you to the bottom of the sea*

he’s been waiting to hold that hand for so long )):< wtf dude

[ohwowimlonley]

I uh, came here from the stepbro!Siri with a corruption kink... I was wondering if you could do more stepbro!Siri? But uhm maybe like "stepbro!Siri x reader +best friend mooney" ? If you're uncomfortable with this request, you can just ignore this... I also wanted to know if I could be Anon ✨?

Omg I’m so sorry this took me so long and of course you can be an anon if you want to lovely

Also this is unfinished so ask for another part if u want :)

Smut below the cut

—

“Hey there sweetheart,” your step brother calls to you, spreading his legs further across the sofa and patting his knee in invitation, “why don’t you come n’ sit with me and Moony for a bit, hey?”

You try to move towards them as confidently as possible, but your trembling hands and adverted gaze betrays you. You fall gracelessly into the arms of the shaggy-haired man, holding back a surprises giggle at the way his nose tickles against your neck.

“Isn’t she just the cutest, Moons?” You can feel the smirk of your step brother widen against your warmed cheeks, your embarrassment heightened by how he speaks about you like you’re not even in the room.

“She’s really something,” comes the drawl of the other man, his hand creeping up your exposed thigh, exploring the skin with languid strokes. Your body instinctively leans into his touch as his nimble fingers reach toward the hem of your skirt, simultaneously pushing up and shying away from his touch, “a shy one though, huh?”

“She’ll warm up to her soon enough, mate,” Sirius assures, one hand moving to boldly rest on your right breast, almost a show of his ownership of you, “only took her two days before she started crawling into my bed ‘nd begging for it,”

Remus makes a humming sound of approval at that, finally garnering eye contact with you and raising an eyebrow and tapping your thigh, waiting for your approval before diving his hand beneath your skirt, stroking his cold fingers up and down your uncovered pussy lips.

“No panties?” The grin on his face usurpes the disappointment in his tone. Sirius let’s out an incredulous scoff.

“Please, she hasn’t worn panties since the first day I fucked her,” his hand slips beneath your shirt and his fingers start flicking over your nipples, “always wants to be fucked now, the poor thing. She’ll probably get even more greedy now she’s got two of us,”

“Siri?” You crane your neck to finally make eye contact with him. Both boys cease their movements to watch you, intrigued by what you’d say while speaking for the first time in the night, “what- what do you mean two of us?”

“Well darling,” he smooths a kiss to the crown of your head, “moony over here needs someone to take care of him, doesn’t he? You don’t want him to get lonely, do you?”

You don’t even have to think about it; you shake your head with a pout. Remus seems nice, and his fingers are working wonders on your clit, his movements now resumed as Sirius talks.

“Well, I said that moony can fuck you sometimes, y’know, to help us all out,” he shrugs, spreading your legs further out on his lap so he can get a good glimpse of your pussy as Remus works it over.

“I promise I’ll be good to you, pretty girl,” the taller boy adjusts himself until his cheek rests against the inside of your thigh, so close to your cunt that his tongue scrapes across your clit with every word from his mouth, “so long as you follow my rules,”

[w2soneshots]

Hormones -George clarkey

words: 0.7k+

warnings: angst (but mostly fluff), mention of periods.

summary: George’s humour slightly pushes you over the edge while you’re dealing with the worst week of the month, though he’s quick to make it up to you.

notes: hi! Here’s the request🫶🏼. I’m sorry for going MIA, I’ve just had a lot going on in my personal life recently and didn’t have the inspiration to write. George has been looking a little too good though so I was inspired to write something for him😌. Enjoy!!🤍✨

"Good morning darling," my boyfriend George cheerfully greeted me as I shuffled into the kitchen. I groaned as I sat down on a stool, placing my head in my hands. "You okay?" He asked softly. I looked up to see his eyebrows furrowed slightly. "Period," I replied bluntly.

"Ah," he sighed. "Well, uh- the boys are coming over today and we're supposed to be going to the pub later." "Okay." I mumbled. "Okay? Great. I thought you were going to throw a tantrum," he joked, though it didn't sound as funny as he thought it would.

"I'm not a child George," I turned towards the fridge. "Uh, didn't mean it like that... sorry." He rambled. "Mhm," I responded, the annoyance in my voice extremely audible.

I ate a quick breakfast then got back into bed. George, Chris and Arthur sat in the living room watching last night's darts game while I slept for a bit longer. I was woken to the sound of shouting, rage suddenly filled my veins. I threw the covers back and trudged towards the bedroom door.

"Could you be any fucking louder?!" I angrily exclaimed as I reached the end of the hallway. All three men turned to look at me, shock evident on their faces. "Sorry, uh- did we wake you up?" Chris asked calmly.

The anger faded and it was replaced with regret. "Yeah, it's fine. I shouldn't have snapped like that. Carry on, sorry," I mumbled before turning around, embarrassed.

The boys shared a look then George got up from the sofa. He followed me into the bedroom. I sat on the edge of the bed. "They understand," he reassured me, squatting down so we were at eye level.

I ran a hand through my hair. "I was so mean," I muttered, my voice cracking slightly. I felt like I was about to cry. George wasn't sure what to do so he just sat next to me and pulled me into his chest, silently comforting me.

Subconsciously I drifted off to sleep in his arms. He stayed in the same position, gently stroking my hair, for another ten minutes before he carefully picked me up and tucked me into bed.

When I woke up the boys had gone out but George was sat next to me, scrolling through his phone. "Hey," I whispered as I turned onto my side so that I was facing him.

"How'd you sleep darling?" He asked softly, after immediately putting his phone down. His hand reached out and he softly pressed it to my cheek. "Good, I think that's what I needed. I thought you were going to the pub?"

"They went without me, I'd rather be here with you," he replied with the cutest smile ever. "As if I couldn't love you more," I muttered as I shuffled toward him. He slid his arm under my neck as I cuddled up to him. I let out a content sigh.

After lying there for a few minutes he took a deep breath. "So..." my head perked up. "Wanna fuck?" He joked with his silly little voice. "Oh shut up you dick." I chuckled and playfully slapped his chest.

The next day I felt a little better but still spent most of my morning in bed. George had to go film a video and left early in the morning. I woke up to a cold bottle of water, my favourite chocolate and a beautiful bouquet of flowers on my bedside table.

A huge smile spread across my face as I also noticed the cute little note that read "Get some well earned rest. Love you x". I knew he'd have to have gotten up even earlier to get those things for me so I sent him a heartfelt thank you text.

I got up, took a shower and put on some sweats. After making myself some lunch I got comfy on the sofa and picked one of my comfort movies to get lost in.

George got home just as the film finished and I jumped off of the couch to greet him with a kiss. "Woah!" He chuckled as I hugged him. "Feeling better I see." I smiled. "Yeah, much." He squeezed me slightly. "I'm glad." He whispered into my hair.

We spent the rest of the night in the apartment. We ordered a takeaway, chatted, watched whatever crap was on the tv and did a whole lot of laughing at each other's corny jokes.

[revelboo]

You really write really good stories ✨👌.although I'm already quite addicted to it lol, I literally go offline for 3 days for work and when I come back to read in 10 minutes I've already read everything🫠. btw the "everything will be okay" plot is really good and I'm WILD with Earthspark stories (it became my favorite series and there are almost no Earthspark stories🤧)

I’m just having fun writing my nonsense

Give Up/Give In Pt 13

TF Earthspark Megatron x Reader

• They’re trying to help. He knows it. Appreciates it. Even if he wants to growl. Just wanting a peaceful meal with you, a chance to sit and talk alone. Not realizing Dorothy and the kids would try to help. Alex had cooked for him, and Hashtag and Twitch had found an enormous plaid blanket to spread out under the tree in the yard. Jawbreaker and the others had found old holiday decorations and bit of broken glass and strung them up in the branches so the sun dapples the grass and blanket in a kaleidoscope of blues and greens. As much as he appreciates the effort, none of it was by his hand for you and it bothers him. You, though? You’re smiling as you tip your head back to look at the tree. “Is this alright?” He asks.

• “It’s gorgeous.” And it is, the kids working to help Megatron spreading warm through you. Even if you’d heard Hashtag whisper something about ‘Team Romance’ to Twitch. The two seeming to not understand that you’re a human and Megatron is, well, Megatron. Completely incompatible, but it is sweet. “I love it.” Easing down on the blanket, you watch Megatron lower himself across from you, still towering over you as he leans his arms on his knees.

• Nudging the tiny basket of food closer to you, he reaches for an energon cube while you make a plate. Wishes he could mass shift, but it’s too risky with Starscream and the other Seekers at large. Can’t leave himself and you vulnerable. “What else do you love?” Your little face tips up, expressive face surprised by the question and he likes that you’re so easy to read, that he doesn’t have to wonder about your motives. “Tell me,” he adds gently, trying to not demand, but he wants to know everything about you. Who you are. What you like.

• Shoulders lifting in a shrug, you push your food around on your plate. “Not much to tell. Honestly, I just work and go home. Pretty boring.” And sad now that you think about it. No real personal life. A job you don’t care for, but can’t quit because there’s so few prospects in a small town. Too scared to try for a bigger city, so you’d gotten stuck. Still are.

• Venting, he reaches to tip your chin up. Making you meet his optics. “What do you like to do? What dreams keep you going?” He asks, voice taking on a wistful edge. Because dreams seldom go the way planned. His dreams of a better world, of freedom had led to a war that had ravaged his home. Reaching up to touch his servo, you offer him a smile.

• “I played violin as a kid. Wasn’t great at it, but I had fun,” you admit, eyes closing. “I used to dream I could be great. That I could play and people would care.” It sounds so silly. You hadn’t wanted to be rich or famous, just wanted to play well enough the music would make people feel something real. “I doubt i even remember how to play anymore.” Laughing softly, you gently push his servo away.

• “You’ll play for me.” It’s not a request, it’s a demand, but you still smile for him. Wants to hear you play, to lose yourself in something that makes you happy. Desperately wants to see you happy and relaxed. Spark warming when you tell him okay. And you take turns sharing things. He sketches out the war and his mistakes in the broadest strokes he can, not wanting you to know just how awful he is. But needing you to know that side of him is there. Listens to you talk about your family in return, offering him little glimpses of who you are. It’s dark by the time he remembers his deal. That he’d promised to take you home. That home isn’t with him.

• “Are you ready to go?” Heart speeding as he plants a palm on the ground and stands, you want to say no. To ask to stay. To take up even more of his time, all of it he’ll allow. You like talking to him, listening to that rumbling voice. Like the warmth of his big servos when he touches your arm or cheek. Like him. But know this can’t go anywhere, that eventually he’ll get tired of your clinging, so you make yourself nod and smile like you’re okay when you’re not.

• Transforming and dropping his ramp, he can feel you walk inside his alt mode. A little hand brushing a wall as you look around his cargo hold and he feels when you hesitate. Making him remember that he’s not had time to clean up, that your blood is still there. “It’s alright,” he says softly, closing his ramp. “You’re safe here.” And you move through him lingering just inside the cockpit while he waits on you to find somewhere to settle. “Sit anywhere.”

• “Sorry,” you murmur, slipping into one of the pilot seats. Because it’s still weird that he’s this giant aircraft now and that you can just walk around inside him. Can he see you or is he just feeling you moving around? Isn’t that weird to him? Sinking into the seat, you look at all the dials and controls and feel a momentary twist of the surreal. Because this is still Megatron. Different, but still him. When the rotors start up, you touch the harness wondering if you need to strap in.

• “You’re shaking, little one.” He can feel you trembling as your little fingers ghost over his harness, touching the yoke when he shifts it. Nervous and wide eyed. “Are you sure this is what you want?” To go home instead of staying with him? Safe where he can watch over you? And your fingers grip his harness. Hates that you’re so frightened right now, because this isn’t a threat he can destroy or attack.

• No. It’s not what you want at all. Frozen, you want to be greedy. To not go back to the real world. To steal a little more time. Listen to him and ask him questions, because what you’ve seen so far doesn’t mesh up with the stories you’ve heard. He’s not a monster, not cruel or vicious. He’s gentler than you’d expected. “I want to stay,” you whisper, the words so soft there’s no way he can hear them over the sound of his rotors, but they slow and stop. Hear him rumble around you. “I want to stay with you.”

Previous

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Constructicons: Some assembly required. Can I just ride around in Scavenger’s scoop?

[harrywavycurly]

Sarah I just really would love some Harry fluff of any kind I’m not picky I’m just needy😩

Hiii babes!!! Ask and you shall receive! It’s holiday themed fluff if that’s okay? This is honestly just the first thing that popped into my mind so I hope you like this short little blurb!💖

Summary: You and Harry have some last minute gifts to wrap✨

“Did you wrap this gift in the dark?” Harry lets out a huff as he looks up from his current position on the floor of the master bedroom near his side of the bed where he’s surrounded by things still needing to be wrapped as well as a small pile of things he’s done wrapping or placing in gift bags. When he looks up he finds you sitting on the floor near your side of the bed holding something he wrapped last night in a hurry, needing to get it done before you got home. “Why is there so much tape? And is that a-”

“I beg your pardon? That’s a perfect wrapping job considering who the gift is for.” He says in his own defense making you raise a brow as you look at the tag on the poorly wrapped box. He nervously chews on his bottom lip as he waits for your reaction once he sees your eyes scan the name on the tag.

“Harry we said no more gifts for her.” You say with a sigh as you look at the pile of wrapped presents that are along the wall your bedroom door is on. “She’s going to need a second playroom for all this stuff.” Harry follows your gaze and smiles at the thought of your little girl’s face as she opens all her gifts.

“That’s the last thing.” He promises with a smile making you roll your eyes because you heard him say the same thing just last week and yet here you are with another gift in your hands for the two year old little girl who’s currently asleep down the hall. “Besides half of those are clothes so they’ll just go in her closet.” He justifies with a shrug before reaching over to the pile of unwrapped gifts so he can grab one, gently placing it on top of the red and white polka dotted wrapping paper he’s using at the moment.

“Are you wrapping your own gift?” You ask as you slide Harry’s sadly wrapped box towards the wall so it can join the others that are ready to be placed under the tree in the living room.

“My own-oh is this for me?” He holds up the mug that’s in the middle of his wrapping paper and turns it around so he can read what it says but before he can actually get a good look he feels something hit his forehead and land in his lap. “Did you just throw a bow at me?”

“You were about to look at your gift what else was I supposed to do from all the way over here?” Harry lets out a laugh as he picks the bow up and tosses it back over to your side of the room making you giggle when he misses you completely and it lands a good foot away from you. “Be a good husband and bring it to me please? So I can wrap it for you.” You poke out your bottom lip in a playful pout as you look at him from across the room.

Harry looks at you as you wiggle around on the floor with your pillow so you can put it behind your back once you get close enough to the footboard of the bed so you can lean against it. You let out a deep sigh of relief and he can’t help the grin that takes over when he sees you place a hand on your fully formed bump, having hit the “due any day” mark a few days ago he knows getting comfortable is often times a struggle. He gets up after grabbing the mug, making sure he doesn’t look at what it says and after a few careful steps he’s standing next to you.

“The pout wasn’t necessary love.” He teases as you reach up and grab the mug from his hands and place it in the gift bag that’s between your spread legs. You smile when you look up and see he’s still looking down at you, he places a hand on top of the bed so he can lean down and place a quick kiss to your lips. “I love you.” He mumbles against your lips before giving them one last peck.

“I love you too.” He smiles as he stands up and turns to go back to his designated wrapping spot. “But if you get her one more gift I’m telling your mom how you really felt about her fruitcake.” You threaten making Harry chuckle as he shakes his head at your choice of a threat.

“Fine fine no more gifts for her.” You narrow your eyes as he sits down and grabs a pack of customized golf balls to wrap for Niall. He can feel your eyes on him as the corners of his mouth twitch as he fights off a smirk. “But I may have a few more things for him in this pile.” He explains as he tosses a quick look over his shoulder to the pile of gifts he has left in need of wrapping, his eyes landing on a little pair of sneakers he got that might or might not match a pair he has in his own closet.

“You think he’ll show up in time for Christmas? Or will he wait for New Year’s Eve?” You ask as you rub your stomach with one hand and place some tissue paper into the bag with Harry’s mug in it, smiling when you remember that it says “Daddy is a state of mind” in bright pink font, having been obsessed with that quote ever since you heard Pedro Pascal say it during an interview and figuring it fit Harry’s personality perfectly.

“Oh he’s going to make quite the entrance so I’m betting on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day.” He answers as he begins to wrap Niall’s gift with some green and white paper.

“He’s going to make an entrance huh? Wonder who he gets that from.” You joke making Harry shoot you a playful glare before both of you go back to wrapping gifts, trying to finish most of it so the next few days you can relax and enjoy the holiday festivities as well as the final days of the Styles household being a little family of three before your son decides to make his arrival.

[farfromstrange]

Fictober Day 20: Black Suit

Fictober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Prompt: Black Suit (✨)

Summary: You distract Matt from parole, and he punishes you while wearing the black suit.

Warnings: SMUT (18+), slight dom!Matt, slight predator!Matt, masked sex (Matt is masked), established relationship, breeding kink, use of "bad girl" and "good girl", safeword mentioned but not used, light BDSM, Reader has her hands held above her head (but not fully restrained), mentions of masturbation

Word Count: 1.5k

A/n: Matt in the Black Suit both in S1 and S3 reigns superior. I don't make the rules. I may be behind with these fics, but I certainly delivered on the smut today!

Read Me On AO3! (Coming soon)

He’s towering by the window, his figure a mere shadow in the moonlight. 

“You’ve been a bad girl, sweetheart,” he murmurs. 

You’re wearing his washed-out Columbia shirt and nothing but that. No panties to cover the intoxicating scent of your slick pussy from his sensitive nose. No bra to stop the cold air from brushing against your hard nipples. You’re wearing only what’s his, and his cock twitches painfully in his pants.

Matt is so full of adrenaline that all he can think about is sinking into you until his name is the only thing you can utter—the only thing you can scream. He heard you from across the city, your moans echoing through your shared apartment as you pleasured yourself. You should have been long asleep, but you just couldn’t wait, could you? He would never leave you unsatisfied, even after a long night patrolling Hell’s Kitchen, but you couldn’t wait for him. You had to do it yourself. 

He’s not angry, no. He’s frustrated. He could barely focus out there. 

You’ve been a bad girl, and he will show you just how bad you have been. 

“I’m sorry,” you say. “I wasn’t sure how long you’d be, and–”

He shushes you, index finger against his plump lips.

It shouldn’t turn you on as much as it does. He’s dangerous like this. You should call out ‘red’, use your safeword, and put an end to this, but you don’t want him to stop. In a way, this is exactly what you fantasized about when you thrust your fingers into your pussy tonight, hoping he would turn around and take you—hard, fast, and without remorse. 

You might just get your wish.

The room falls silent until only the rapid beating of your heart is left to be heard. Matt’s lips curl into a smirk. “Good girl,” he says, and that is when he reaches for the fabric on his head and pulls it over his eyes. Slowly. Teasingly.

Your breath gets caught in your throat. 

“Lay back and spread your legs for me.

Now.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice. Not that he would allow it, anyway. When he’s like this, your only choice is to obey. If you don’t, you will get punished. Sometimes, that is exactly what you want. Tonight though, you are too needy, too empty to tease him; you just need him inside you. 

“Is this what you wanted?” he rasps as he crawls over to you on the bed. Like a predator on the prowl, he takes his time. And every step he takes sends a shiver down your spine. 

“I want you to let the Devil out,” you whisper. 

He lets out an almost cruel chuckle. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. I need you.”

“And why should I give you what you need when you swore you wouldn’t touch yourself until I got back?”

“You’re back, aren’t you?” The second those words come out, you regret them. You’re challenging him, arguing, even, and he does not like that. 

Matt grabs your ankle and pulls you to him, not bothering to travel the distance. You watch with a gaping mouth as he works on unbuttoning his pants. He doesn’t pull them down; he pulls out his achingly hard cock, stroking himself a few times with merely a palm full of his spit, and then he thrusts into you without another warning. 

The slick walls of your cunt clench around him. You cry out; he looks almost feral above you, masked with his teeth bared, and he snaps his hips against yours at a nearly animalistic pace. Not a second you get to adjust to his girth. He pounds into you as though your pussy was made to be claimed by him—as though your body was made to be ruined by him. 

He pins your hands above your head so you won’t dare touch him, and he pulls your face to level with his; if you don’t look at him, it might have consequences. But you can barely keep your eyes open, every drag of his cock so delicious inside you that the synapses in your brain backfire. 

You can’t see his eyes, you can’t see his body, you can only watch his lips twitch and part in groans that tighten the coil in your belly. He pushes his cock deep enough for you to feel him in every crevice of your being. Deeper, deeper, and deeper. 

His clothes rub against your burning skin. His pelvis brushes against your clit. You’re losing your mind, you think. The Devil is fucking you into the mattress, and you’re enjoying it. You might need a psych evaluation, but God, you couldn’t care less when you are this close to falling apart. Your fingers could never come close to how his cock feels. He is imprinted in your velvety walls, and they always mold to him like they were made for him. They squeeze him, and they pull him impossibly closer, brushing against that spot over and over again until galaxies are exploding before your very eyes. 

You struggle against his grip, wanting to tear that mask from his face to at least get one look into his blacked-out hazel eyes.

“Matthew,” you breathe. 

He inhales your plea with his lips on yours. Finally. 

You let out a moan, diving your tongue into his mouth to taste the copper from his cut lip. You soak it up. You drink it. The sting of pain only makes him fuck you harder. 

“Please,” you beg again. “Let me go.”

For a moment, he wonders if he’s going too far, but he would hear that in your heartbeat. You would use your safe word; he made sure of that when you first talked, so he shouldn’t give in, but the sound of your voice… Matt has no choice but to comply. 

He lets go of your hands, and you don’t hesitate pulling the mask up to his eyebrows.

“I’m gonna fill you up,” he growls. “Gonna fill that pretty pussy with my cum ‘til you’re leaking.”

You buck your hips to meet his. “Oh God!” 

“That’s what you want? Want me to breed you?” 

“Yes!” you cry out.

“I’m gonna put a baby in you. Such a–” thrust, “good,” thrust, “fucking,” thrust, “girl!”

You hear the rough baritone of his voice, but the words don’t register. The tension consuming your body reaches its breaking point, and your orgasm hits you before you have a chance to brace yourself. The explosion tears your nerves apart one by one and puts them back together again. The coil snaps, painfully so. His name resembles a scream from your cracked lips, your nails leaving a bloody trail down his toned back.

Matt curses, his lips unable to hold back the sheer animalistic sound born from the back of his throat, and he holds his hips tightly against yours as he comes, hard. 

For the longest time, you can’t move. You can’t think. You can’t even breathe. The cold metal of his belt has turned hot, all but branded into your skin. His cum trickles out of your painfully slow, but he pushes his cock deeper, forcing—fucking—it back inside you, and your legs shake violently at the overstimulation that ripples through you. It’s a tidal wave building and building again, your orgasm refusing to let up. 

“Shh,” you faintly hear him coo into your tousled hair. “Breathe.”

You don’t realize he’s stopped moving until his cold leather glove comes to rest against your hot cheek. 

“Sweetheart, look at me,” Matt commands, and your body follows blindly. “You’re okay. Take a deep breath for me. There you go. Good girl.”

Your chest opens with the oxygen you’ve been missing. He must have you under some kind of spell, surely, to make you feel this good. 

He strokes your cheek. “I’m sorry.” 

Sorry? You blink. The world starts slowly coming back to you, your sanity and self-control returning to your grasp. You reach for it. You try to come back to yourself because why the hell is he apologizing? 

The guilt he’s feeling burns through your veins. When his heart hurts, so does yours. Always. 

“Why?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper. 

“I didn’t ask if I could… I used you. I wasn’t in control, I–”

It is your turn to shush him now. “I’m okay.”

“No, that wasn’t… that wasn’t okay,” he says. 

“Yes, it was.”

He breathes your name, and you kiss him. There is nothing he could say that would make you believe the demons in his head. 

You wanted him to let the Devil out. You got what you wanted, and even with all his shadows, Matt has never shone in a brighter light. 

“Marry me,” his voice is barely above a whisper. 

The words take a moment to sink in. It’s the middle of the night, he’s bloody, bruised, and soaked in sweat, and his cock is still buried inside you—and he just asked you to marry him. 

He doesn’t take it back. He looks vulnerable, even, as he awaits your answer, but there is a certain conviction in his eyes. A conviction that you have only ever seen the day he told you he was head over heels in love with you. 

You find yourself reaching out to cup his face, tracing the faint bruise under his right eye. “Yes,” you answer. “I’ll marry you.”

And there is no doubt in your mind that you made the right choice. 

@ebathory997 @the-b33skn33s @scoliobean @drmeghanjones @lanae111 @steve-chandler @lucienofthelakes @xnatyx @gpenguin666 @linamarr @mcugeekposts @itwasthereaminuteago @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @amberritonicole @ravenclaw617 @pigeonmama @bohemianrhapsody86 @a-gir1-has-n0-name @callsign-ember @chittaphonstar @buckyyyismahhlife @trublu2u @zomtart @ethereal-blaze

[nickistuffs]

Art Buddies

Pairing: Harry x Designer reader (curvy or plus size whatever you feel they should look like. This is my preference 😌)

Summary: Y/N is looking for a way to hang out with Harry; this is her plan to have common ground.

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: None. just fluff.

✨masterlist✨ read the rest of Harry x Designer Reader there

...

After Y/N and Harry’s late-night coffee outing, you found yourself lying on your bed, replaying the entire evening over and over in your mind. No, it’s just coffee… surely nothing else, you tried to convince yourself, though your heart clearly begged to differ. But still… coffee with Harry Styles. Oh god, how are you supposed to recover from this?

Before you knew it, you screamed into your pillow, kicking your feet like a lovestruck teenager. The excitement bubbling inside you felt impossible to contain.

Your phone buzzed, snapping you out of your dramatic meltdown. Grabbing it quickly, your eyes widened at the notification: a text from Harry.

Since then, the conversation between you two has been effortless. It started with short greetings, lighthearted "How are you?"s, and playful jokes, but the texts came more frequently, becoming a steady part of your day.

Harry ☺️: Hi! Y/N, would you want to hang out sometime?

Your heart practically leapt out of your chest as you read the message. A giddy squeal escaped your lips, and you hugged your phone tightly, unable to text back right away. Your mind raced with possible replies, each one feeling inadequate for this moment.

Meanwhile, on the other side of town, Harry stared at his phone, his thumb hovering over the screen as if willing it to light up with a response. Letting out a loud sigh, he tossed his head back against the couch.

“Alright, mate, what’s up with you?” one of his friends asked, noticing his sudden shift in mood.

Harry groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. “I sent her a message. What if I was too forward? Or what if she thinks I’m—ugh, I don’t know—coming on too strong?”

His friends exchanged amused glances before one of them clapped him on the shoulder. “Harry, she went out for coffee with you. Pretty sure that’s a good sign.”

Harry frowned, still unconvinced. “Yeah, but what if she just sees me as, you know, Harry Styles, not just… Harry?”

His friends laughed, one of them rolling their eyes. “If she didn’t see you as just Harry, she wouldn’t have agreed to coffee in the first place. Relax. She’s probably just as nervous as you are.”

Harry let out a small chuckle despite himself, glancing at his phone again. Maybe they’re right, he thought, but the butterflies in his stomach refused to settle.

Little did he know, Y/N was on the other end, typing and deleting her response a dozen times, her own heart racing just as much as his

...

After some thought, you finally typed out a reply, biting your lip nervously as you hit send.

Y/N: Sure! What should we plan to do?

On the other end, Harry stared at the message, his heart skipping a beat. Fuck, I didn’t even think of what to suggest! His mind scrambled as he tried to come up with an idea that wasn’t utterly boring or cliché.

But before he could overthink it further, another notification popped up.

Y/N: Want to go on a picnic and paint with me?

Harry blinked, staring at your message. A grin spread across his face, equal parts relieved and delighted. A picnic? Painting? It was perfect—relaxed, creative, and undeniably you.

You, meanwhile, were pacing your room, clutching your phone like it might explode. Why did I suggest painting? What if he hates the idea? What if it’s too much? The doubts swirled in your head as you waited for his reply.

The phone buzzed, and you practically dove for it.

Harry ☺️: That sounds amazing. I’d love to. When are you free?

You couldn’t help the goofy smile that spread across your face. A picnic and painting with Harry Styles. Oh god, this is real, you thought, already mentally planning how the day would go. ...

Harry put his phone down, still smiling to himself. His friends, who had been watching his emotional rollercoaster with amusement, burst into cheers.

“What’s got you so happy now?” one teased.

“She suggested a picnic. And painting,” Harry replied, leaning back on the couch, his expression dreamy.

“Mate, that’s adorable,” another friend said with a laugh. “You’re absolutely smitten.”

Harry didn’t even bother denying it. “Yeah… I really am.”

As he began brainstorming ideas for what to bring to the picnic, his phone buzzed in his hand again.

Y/N: Saturday works for me! Let me know if that’s good for you too.

Harry quickly typed a response, his grin widening.

Harry ☺️: Perfect. I’ll bring the food, and you can bring the materials?

Back in your room, you read his message and felt your cheeks heat up at how thoughtful he was.

Y/N: Deal! Any food preferences?

Harry ☺️: Surprise me with dessert, maybe?

You couldn’t help but laugh, your nervousness easing a little.

Y/N: Alright, I’ll think of something good. Saturday it is!

Harry put his phone down, still smiling like an idiot. His friends rolled their eyes but couldn’t hide their amusement.

“Mate, you’re a goner,” one of them teased.

Harry didn’t mind at all. “Yeah, and I’m alright with that.”

As he started making a mental checklist of what food to pack for the picnic, his excitement grew. This wasn’t just a hangout; it was the start of something he couldn’t wait to explore.

...

Over the next few days, both of you prepared for the picnic in your own ways, though the excitement made it hard to focus.

Harry found himself pacing around his kitchen, debating what food to bring. “Not too fancy, not too simple,” he mumbled, scrolling through recipe ideas on his phone. “Something thoughtful.”

Eventually, he settled on packing the food. “Alright, this should work,” he said, nodding to himself as he jotted down a list. His pièce de résistance, however, was a small container of freshly baked cookies—his own attempt at adding a personal touch.

Meanwhile, you were busy gathering your art supplies. Watercolors, brushes, sketchbooks, and a few extras in case Harry wanted to experiment. You even threw in a little easel, smiling at the thought of him trying to paint.

Your nerves threatened to bubble over as Saturday approached, but your excitement overshadowed them. You couldn’t help but wonder what kind of food he’d bring—or how he’d handle painting.

...

Saturday arrived with clear blue skies and a light breeze—perfect weather for a picnic. Right on time, Harry's car pulled up outside your place. He stepped out wearing a casual yet effortlessly stylish outfit: a crisp white button-up tucked into light-washed jeans, his sunglasses perched casually on his nose.

As you walked out to meet him, his breath caught. You were wearing a white dress that flowed gently around you, hugging every curve in a way that made his chest tighten. He tried to act nonchalant, but the way his gaze lingered on you might’ve given him away.

Damn, you looked gorgeous. He’d been captivated by you since the first time he’d seen you at the market. And now, standing there with the sunlight catching the soft glow of your skin, he had to remind himself not to stare.

He greeted you with a warm smile, holding up the woven picnic basket in his hands. “Ready for this?” he asked, his voice light and teasing, though there was a trace of nervous energy behind it.

You returned his smile, holding up your bag of art supplies in response. “I hope you’re ready to unleash your inner artist.”

Harry chuckled, shaking his head playfully. “I wouldn’t count on a masterpiece, but I’ll give it a go.”

The drive to the park was filled with the kind of easy, natural conversation that made you forget any nerves you’d felt earlier. Harry’s laughter filled the car a few times, and you couldn’t help but laugh along with him.

Once you arrived, the two of you wandered through the park until you found the perfect spot: a large oak tree with sprawling branches that offered shade and a serene view of the grassy meadow. Harry set the basket down and helped you spread out a checkered blanket beneath the tree.

As he began unpacking the basket, you couldn’t help but watch in awe. He carefully laid out an assortment of neatly packed sandwiches, fresh fruit, a small cheese platter, and a bottle of sparkling grape juice. Finally, he pulled out a small container of cookies, looking almost bashful as he placed them on the blanket.

“Wow,” you said, your eyes widening at the spread. “This is… so thoughtful. You really didn’t have to go all out.”

Harry shrugged, his cheeks tinged with the faintest blush. “Wanted to make sure you didn’t regret being invited,” he said, his voice quieter but still carrying that signature charm.

You couldn’t help but smile, feeling the warmth of his thoughtfulness settle over you. “Trust me, this is perfect.”

Harry grinned, brushing a hand through his hair as he sat back on the blanket. “Alright, then. Let’s eat first so we’re fueled up for this artistic adventure.”

With the soft rustling of leaves above you and the occasional distant sound of laughter from other park-goers, the afternoon stretched out like something out of a dream. As you nibbled on the sandwiches and sipped the refreshing sparkling grape juice, the easy banter continued, flowing naturally between you both.

When it was time to paint, Harry eyed the supplies with mock apprehension. “Alright, where do we even begin?”

You handed him a paintbrush with a smirk. “Pick something around us to paint. Don’t overthink it.”

He scanned the meadow, his gaze finally settling on a cluster of wildflowers swaying gently in the breeze. “Okay, those flowers. But don’t judge me too hard—I’m warning you now.”

You laughed, dipping your brush into the water. “No judgment, I promise.”

And as the two of you began painting side by side, you couldn’t help but glance at him every so often. The way he concentrated, his brow furrowed slightly, his lips quirking up in amusement when he clearly surprised himself—it was all so endearing.

Little did you know, Harry was sneaking glances at you too, marveling at how effortlessly you seemed to bring your art to life. He admired how your face lit up when you were in your element, and for a moment, he forgot all about his own painting.

By the time the sun began to dip lower in the sky, your shared laughter had filled the quiet meadow. Harry held up his finished piece, a slightly wonky but colorful depiction of the wildflowers. “Well? Be honest. Do I have a future in art?”

You burst out laughing, clapping your hands. “It’s… abstract,” you teased. “But I like it.”

Harry grinned, leaning back on his elbows. “Not bad for a first try, right?”

As you packed up the supplies and folded the blanket, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of contentment wash over you. This day had been everything you didn’t know you needed.

Walking back to the car, Harry looked over at you, his green eyes soft. “Thanks for this,” he said. “For inviting me. I think this might’ve been my favorite day in a long time.”

Your cheeks warmed, but you smiled up at him. “Mine too.”

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the two of you as you walked side by side, carrying the beginnings of what could only be described as something truly special.

...

I love cute happenings :) Hope you enjoyed it!!

[f1ocsworld]

Characters: Lando Norris, Kiara Addams (OC), Max Fewtrell, the lovely fans

Type: real life, social media

Summary: Max exposes Lando on twitch, Kiara drops a new single

The stream had started as usual chaos. Lando and Max were playing a racing simulator, bantering and throwing fake insults back and forth. Chat was popping off as usual, spamming questions and jokes.

"Alright, alright," Lando said, leaning back in his chair after a particularly bad crash in the game. "Who keeps asking about my playlist? What’s that got to do with anything?"

Max immediately perked up, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Oh, mate, they wanna know if you’ve still got Kiara’s Instrument album on repeat."

Lando froze for half a second before rolling his eyes dramatically. "What are you on about, Max? I don’t even listen to her stuff like that."

Chat exploded.

Chat: 🗨️"MAX IS EXPOSING HIM!" 🗨️"Oh, he’s LYINGGGG" 🗨️"Lando, blink twice if you’re a Kiara stan 👀"

"Don’t lie!" Max said, laughing so hard he nearly fell out of his chair. "You’ve got First Snow saved on your top playlist. You were humming it last week!"

"I was not," Lando shot back, face turning a shade pinker.

"You were! You even said it was a ‘decent track’—your words!" Max teased, doing air quotes.

"Decent doesn’t mean I have it on repeat!" Lando protested, but the grin tugging at his lips gave him away.

Max wasn’t letting up. "Alright then, show us your playlist. Prove it. C’mon."

Lando raised his eyebrows, shaking his head. "No chance."

"Why not?" Max pushed, eyes gleaming with mock curiosity. "What are you hiding?"

"I’m not hiding anything," Lando said, spinning in his gaming chair. "But my playlist is private. End of story."

The chat went wild again.

Chat: 🗨️"LMAOOOO he’s GUILTY" 🗨️"SHOW THE PLAYLIST, LANDO" 🗨️"Max, hack his Spotify pls 😂"

"You’re making it worse," Max said, leaning closer to his mic, addressing the chat like a conspirator. "He refuses because it’s just Kiara’s album, top to bottom."

"Max, shut up!" Lando groaned, burying his face in his hands. "You’re so annoying."

Max laughed like he’d just won the lottery. "Chat, you’re welcome. I’m just here to deliver the tea."

Lando’s defense was weak. "I just think… it’s a good album, alright? Doesn’t mean I’m obsessed or whatever you’re trying to make it out to be."

Max leaned back in his chair, smug. "Sure, mate. Sure. We believe you."

The stream ended with Lando groaning, Max cackling, and chat spamming snowflake emojis. The debate over Lando’s playlist was far from over.

Lando Norris was driving through Monaco the day after Kiara’s new song Looking For You dropped. He had the volume up, completely immersed in the smooth, romantic melody.

“I’m looking for you…” the lyrics played, and he couldn’t help but hum along, tapping the steering wheel to the beat. He glanced around to make sure no one was watching him, feeling a little self-conscious, but the song was too good to care.

As the chorus came on, “Where are you now? I’m looking for you…”, Lando smiled, leaning back in his seat. The smooth rhythm made the city feel even more magical.

He couldn’t help but laugh at himself. “If only they knew I was vibing to this,” he thought, grinning. But for now, he was just enjoying the song and the moment, feeling like the world was moving a little slower.

✨MASTERLIST✨

[bohemianblasphemy]

Patience

Billy Butcher x fem!reader

i hope you enjoy, idk how good this is lmao✨

CW: Daddy kink,some spanking and aftercare, unprotected sex, bit of fluff at the end✨

The clock on the wall ticked away the day, your patience was wearing thin as you waited for Butcher.

He had been working longer hours for the past two weeks, his mission with the Boys vs. Vought and The Seven had taken up a lot of his time which in return made you feel neglected by him.

you’d wait up through the late hours of the night; hoping for some loving from Billy- only for him to stumble home at god knows what time and go straight to bed; only to be up again a few hours later and back out the door, leaving you with a quick kiss and a “have a good day”.

His authoritative nature drew you to him like a moth to flame- the countless nights of him absolutely railing you till you came hard on his cock, moaning his favourite word ‘Daddy’ into his ear brought a throb to your heat- but lately that buzz had mixed in with loneliness and it ate away at you. it made you act out, become brattier than ever.

The door to the apartment flung open, the familiar sound of heavy boots echoed on the wooden panels.

“hello love… Daddy’s home.”

Butcher had come back early for the first time in weeks and was met with you, sitting on the couch, pouting. He raised an eyebrow in suspicion as you said nothing, which is unusual as you’d be jumping right into his arms- but you sat still with your arms crossed, leering at him.

Billy walked over to you- standing in front of your seated frame with his arms crossed. His face showed a glimmer of concern and frustration as he studied your demeanour. “what’s goin’ on with ya?” he questioned, you shrugged your shoulders.

“i don’t know… oh wait! i know! maybe it’s the fact that you have given me nothing these past 14 days!” you remarked sarcastically, venom cursing through your words.

Billy stared at you- he knew that it had been a long time since you both spent quality time together. there wasn’t a day in the office that went by that he didn’t think about you, needing you like oxygen.

“i know that you’re busy and the Boys are important to you, but what about me? why aren’t i getting attention too?” your face grew hot in frustration.

Billy’s eyes widened and he smirked. “oh lovey…” his nonchalant voice stirred anger within you. you huffed and went to stand up to leave the room, only to be stopped by your boyfriend who had a grip on your forearm. “nup… you’re staying right here.” his tone was a lot more stern this time, turning you to face him.

“i know it’s been hard these few weeks… believe me sweetheart, i wish for nothin’ more than to be here with you instead of doin’ the shit that i’m doin’ with the Boys...” you resisted looking at him, but not before he raised your chin to face him with his index and thumb.

“i just missed you… that’s all. jus’ needed you and you were gone all day and night and im sick of it!” You wanted to protest some more, but before you could speak he places a finger on your lips as to shush you.

“but- don’t give me that bratty attitude. ya know what happens when ya give me that, baby…”he knew which buttons to push, wanting to shift the tension in the air to something a bit more intimate.

“well… what’re you gonna do about it, Daddy?” He saw the cheeky glint in your eye as a small smirk spread across your face, you cocked your head to the side and batted your lashes at him.

in a swift movement, billy had you by the waist, sitting down on the couch and draping you along his lap. your body shivered with anticipation feeling Butchers hands run up your thighs up to your ass, his fingers running agonisingly slow against your skin. “i think a lil’ punishment is in order love, set ya brattiness straight…”

A rough hand smooths over the globes of your short covered buttocks. “10 spanks. and you’re gonna count them down f’me yeah?” you nodded and giggled- shaking your ass for him. a deep groan erupted from Butchers throat as his pulled your shorts off you and felt your warm skin on his palm, eyes fixated on your ass.

his hand struck down on your left ass cheek, sending a ripple through your skin. you gasped loudly, it stung but it felt so good at the same time. “one…” you muttered breathlessly, earning a chuckle from Butcher. Another slap to your rear rang through the apartment living room. “t-two…”

….

“good baby… just a two more f’ me…” Billy’s hand smoothed over your red raw skin. your breathing had become jagged, breathless from his cruel yet exhilarating actions.

You were jolted back to reality as his hand came down sharply on your cheek once more. "N-nine..." Tears welled in your eyes, a mix of desperation for the punishment to end and a conflicting part of you that didn’t want it to stop. Billy smirked before place the last smack on you, hearing you cry out “ten!” slumping over his lap and panting.

“that’s a good girl… such a good girl f’me.” billy gently rubbed your sensitive skin with his hands, leaning down to give soft kisses to your ass cheeks.

“sit up f’ me.” you obeyed and got up from his lap, seeing him get up to the bathroom to find lotion to sooth your sore backside- he returned and gestured you to lay back on his lap to rub the cool gel on your skin. a shiver went up your back you whimpered softly as he took care of you, but your desire for more was still stirring in your stomach.

you sat up carefully to look into butchers eyes after he taken care of the aftermath of your punishment, seeing desire still glinting in his dark pupils, your hands snaked up to his face, bringing him in for a deep kiss.

he licked you bottom lip, wanting to invade your mouth with his tongue which you gladly granted him. he grabbed at you, pulling you back onto his lap straddling him. you pulled away from his lips, looking into his eyes. “i want you Daddy…” you whispered, witnessing a sly smirk appear on his face.

“alright then love… lead the way.” he whispered, placing a quick kiss to your lips. you smirked and got up from his lap, walking through the lounge to the bedroom. Butcher soon followed suit; removing his clothing and scattered it along the floor, leaving a trail behind him.

standing at the foot of the bed, you waited for butcher- not for long as his frame comes into view. his naked body stands in front of you, his hard cock on display.

Billy’s eyes bore into the sight before him, his dark gaze filled with insatiable hunger for you sent shivers down your spine. “get on the bed pet…” he growled, his accent sent tingles through you. “on your hands an’ knees for Daddy.” his order rang through you, immediately obeying him and crawling onto the mattress.

you arched your back as you positioned yourself on all fours, presenting yourself to him like prey. Butcher approached your body, watching it tremble in anticipation. his hands smooth over your still red arse, making sure to be gentle.

Pushing your underwear to the side, Butcher started hungrily at your glistening pussy.

“look at ya… so fuckin’ wet f’me…” his fingers traced along your slit, collecting your slick on his digits, making you moan. using the excess slick from you, he pumps his cock slowly to lubricate it. bringing his cock to your entrance, he drags his tip along your slit, teasing your hole and clit.

“f-fuck Daddy… please, please fuck me…” you begged, looking over your shoulder at him. Billy smirks at you, loving the desperation in your voice. “who am i do deny my baby huh?” his voice is low and drenched in desire as he plunged into you, his thick cock filling you deliciously.

the sound of his hips slapping against your filled the room, mixed with the cries of pleasure coming from your lips. “oh… Daddy you feel so fucking good…” Butcher relished in your wails, his powerful grip on your hips as his quickened his thrusts. your body rocked against his perfectly. "Fuck, you feel so good, pet. " Billy grunted, his voice strained with desire.

your senses were overstimulated by his agressive thrusts and the strong sent of sex that filled the room, creating an intoxicating atmosphere. Your body was stumbling to the edge of your high, ecstasy was just around the corner.

Like a tidal wave, pleasure fell over you and your loud cries filled the room once more- “fuck! Daddy yes!”

your knees shook, nearly bucking beneath yourself as Butcher kept thrusting, relentlessly pounding into your pussy until he too reached his peak. With a deep groan, he spilled his seed into you. his cock pulsing as he filled you deeply.

The grip on your hips lightened, feeling him pull out of you with a sigh. “you’re so fuckin’ good f’Daddy darlin’…” he grinned as you turned around, laying on your back in exhaustion. his eyes raked over your body, in awe of your glowing complexion as your breathing slowed to a steady rhythm.

Butcher crawled over on top of you to shower you with kisses and praises. “that was worth the wait..” you smiled at him, giggling softly. “ good things come to those who wait love…” he whispered to you, placing another kiss upon your lips.

“how’s about… we grab some grub, curl up in ‘ere and watch a movie? your pick babe…” he winked, making you blush. you nodded, smiling up at him. “i love you, Daddy.” you looked at him, batting your lashes at him as he smiled at you.

“i love you too baby…”

[mermaidgirl30]

✨Masterlist✨ A03

Hi! I’m Jamie and welcome to my blog! If you’d like updates for my work, my updates page is @mermaidgirl30-updates. I mostly write about Pedro Pascal characters. Always looking to converse about music, writing, video games, Pedro Pascal, really just anything ☺️ I am always open for requests and asks and will do my best to answer them 🩵 Dividers and Masterlist main pic by @saradika-graphics

~I DO NOT CONSENT TO ANYBODY USING MY STORIES OR REPOSTING THEM IN ANY AI OR ANY OTHER WEBSITE!~

✨One Shots/Drabbles✨

Avalanche: Wolf! Joel Drabble

Always In My Heart: Losing a pet is never easy, but you’re not alone because Joel is right there with you, keeping you afloat.

Birthday Blues: Joel spends his birthday sulking on the porch, regretting the mistakes of his past. Just when he thinks he’ll spend his birthday alone, you come around and turn his cloudy skies into sunshine.

Caught In the Act: Thinking you’re home alone, you decide to unwind in bed, but the last thing you expect is to have Joel Miller, the man you’re renting a room from, find you naked in bed.

Clouded Skies Drabble

Comfort in His Arms: A little Drabble about enjoying the sunrise while you’re being comforted and held by Joel. Soft, gentle, warm. He’s your forever.

Crimson Ties: Joel was a creature of the night, a monster who begged to be released from his curse. He wasn’t a good man, didn’t think he deserved anything that shined light on his dark soul. But there was you, the girl he so desperately wanted to stick around, if only for one more night.

Dominate Me: dom! reader x sub! Joel. You dominate Joel in the bedroom, and he takes every demand you give him.

Fading Into Lilac Skies: You never meant to fall for your boyfriend’s dad, but it happened. You just couldn’t stay away from those shades of blue and grey. But your favorite thing was turning them the color your soul was. Lilac.

Forbidden Desires: A Handmaid’s Tale Fic: Gilead. A dystopian world—one that was once a free country. But that’s gone. Just like your freedom. You do as you’re told: say your prayers, spread your legs, pretend this nightmare is just a phase that’ll end. But it’s not; it’s real. Just like he is. Joel Miller—the gardener/driver that just might be your way out.

Happy One Year, Baby: You forget your one year anniversary with Joel and don’t remember until you see a dozen roses with a love note left on your doorstep. Since he’s away on a work trip, you decide to get all dolled up to give him a little show over FaceTime

Haunt Me: Joel isn’t all that he seems. He might be dead, might be a ghost, might somehow just be trapped in a curse, but you find him. You always find him.

I’ve Got You, Baby Girl: After suffering all day alone with cramps, Joel comes home from work to take care of you and gives you exactly what you need.

Jealousy, Jealousy: After having a bad breakup with Joel Miller, you decide you need a night to relax at the bar and find someone new. Little do you know, Joel is there and he’s not alone. Will you let your jealousy get the best of you or will you get revenge with another man at the bar?

Love and Coffee in the Mornings: This one's just a short fluffy/smutty one shot that's filled with morning love between Joel and reader.

My Heart I Surrender: Feelings and words never come easy to Joel, but they come out slowly and surely for you. So much angst coming off the pages on this story, and it's all in Joel's POV.

My Paper Heart Will Fold: Joel fights himself over his feelings for you, not wanting to admit they’re there. He finally comes to blatant terms that he can’t lose you. He can’t ever lose you. Not ever.

My, My, Such a Sweet Surprise: When you stumble upon a cute little property with a farmer’s market, you get more than you bargain for when you meet the man with honeysuckle eyes and a thick Southern drawl that makes you weak in the knees.

On My Knees for You: You’re supposed to be getting ready for a Halloween party, but maybe you’ll just have to be late because all you can think about is getting on your knees and making Joel Miller feel so good.

Pulled by the Scarlet Reins: In the hate filled town of Salem, no one is safe. With accusations flying daily, no one is spared from speculation. When the blame is pointed at you, who will be there to defend you?

Run Rabbit: At the beginning of every month, you meet Joel to play a little game of hide and seek at the abandoned mansion near Jackson. It’s not just any game of hide and seek though. It’s dark and it’s twisted. If he catches you, he gets to do whatever he wants with you.

Show Some Self Control: It's your birthday, and Joel can't deny you from wanting to explore being with another woman, so he indulges. He sits and watches, but he can't hold back for long. Not with the way your body is writhing against the damp sheets.

Soft: Just a little Drabble about Joel being in love. So very soft.

Stay in the Light: Joel gets injured after a raider attack, and he’s wishing he could’ve told you all the feelings he held back from you for so long

Take Me to Wonderland: You find yourself in Wonderland, but you think you’ve been here before. And the handsome stranger, Joel Miller, is someone that definitely seems familiar.

Teach Me a Lesson, Mr. Miller: Tonight, you planned for beer, loud music, and sloppy sex with one of your hot college classmates. Instead, you get your best friend’s dad putting you in your place.

Tongue Tied: Your dad’s best friend, Joel Miller, finds you in the kitchen eating some cherries. For your birthday, he gives you something that’ll make you a little tongue tied.

Welcome to the Moulin Rouge: Welcome to the Moulin Rouge where touches and gazing eyes turn to feelings and longing that overpower all senses. That’s where Joel meets you, the girl of all his desires. The girl that starts a fire inside him that he can’t control. But he’s not the only one after her. No. And he’ll have to share even though it destroys him.

✨Series✨

Can You Please Be Mine?: (Ongoing multiple part series)

No Outbreak!Joel x fem! reader

It’s a hot summer’s day in Austin, and you’re cooling off by having a cold ice cream cone while riding the carousel at the fair. You see a handsome, older man that you think is just the hottest man you’ve ever seen, and you just wonder what it’d be like if he took you home with him.

Captured in the Woods:

(Ongoing multiple part series)

Joel Miller x fem! reader

Joel books a nice secluded Airbnb cabin out in the middle of Southwest Texas to get a little alone time with you for a weekend. Little do you know, you’re not alone. You’re being stalked by a deranged family, and you’re going to have to fight your way to make it out alive.

Crimson Tango: A Dance of Diamonds and Revenge: (Ongoing multiple part series)

Moulin Rouge Joel x fem! reader

Joel Miller doesn’t know what awaits him as he takes on a maintenance job at the Moulin Rouge. He doesn’t know he’ll meet the absolute love of his life, the Sparkling Diamond, as his world comes crashing down around him fast. Will he be able to stay away when he’s warned not to touch the dancers? Will he listen or will he challenge that pull that draws him to the one thing that sets his soul on fire?

Daddy’s Best Friend, Mr. Miller: (Completed)

dbf! Joel x fem! reader

After going out with your classmate from graduate school, Mr. Miller doesn’t take so kindly to your date when he sees you out and about with the college jock. Will the older, attractive man you’ve been pining after for years finally give you what you’ve been wanting for so long? The only problem is that he’s your dad’s best friend.

Dancing With Fire: (Completed)

maintenance man! Joel x ballet dancer fem! reader

You’re starring in the ballet Swan Lake, taking on the lead role in New York at a huge theater. You practice day and night and are always staying after hours. One day you notice the hot maintenance worker, Joel, and you can’t seem to keep your eyes off him. Lucky for you, he can’t keep his eyes off you either.

Dark Shades of Innocence Lost: (Completed)

pleasure dom! Joel x fem/sub! reader

After your friends drag you out to Club Inferno on a Friday night, you meet an unexpected man with dark brown eyes. That man is Joel Miller, who turns out to be the owner of the club. The menace that will turn your life upside down. After not dating for a couple of years, Joel finds out and strikes up a proposition for you. Keep coming back and he’ll make sure you experience pleasure like you’ve never felt before.

Deep Blue: (Ongoing multiple part series)

Diver! Joel Miller x marine biologist! FOC

Swimming with great white sharks was always on your bucket list. Now that you’ve graduated with your master’s degree in marine biology, that’s the only thing you want to do. Luckily your friend, Jenna, pulls some strings and gets you on a private shark diving tour. What she didn’t tell you was that your diving guide, Joel Miller, was going to be ridiculously hot. Will you survive the dive or will you end up falling for the man of your dreams?

Destined Hearts: (Ongoing multiple part series)

Joel Miller x fem! reader

After a messy break up with Joel, the two of you cross paths again unexpectedly at the lake. Everything seems to fall back into place, and you slowly start to fall back in love with him. Maybe he just might be your forever.

Enchant Me: (Ongoing multiple part series)

soft! Joel x witchy garden fem! reader

Joel delivers a custom built table to a little house out in the middle of the woods, but he doesn’t realize he’s going to fall for the girl behind the doors of that small purple house. He falls head over heels for her special herbal tea, tarot card readings, and talks of nature and plants as he keeps going back to see her.

Fall Into the Dark With Me: You’ve had your eyes on the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor for a while. Just like he’s had his eyes on you. He’s a sly, sneaky, teasing Slytherin, and you’re a shy, meek Hufflepuff. Will your little flirting game suddenly lead to more once he gets you alone in a room?

Her Bodyguard, His Shining Star: (Completed)

Bodyguard! Joel Miller x singer fem! reader

Joel’s your broad, handsome bodyguard that you flirt with and secretly dream about. Little do you know, he can’t seem to keep his eyes or his hands off you for long. The two of you should know better, but after Coachella it’s so obvious that you can’t stay away from one another. Could he be your end game?

Just Breathe: The Dinosaur Diaries: (Ongoing multiple part series)

paleontologist! Joel x fem researcher! reader

After going under the wings of doctor Miller, the hottest paleontologist you’ve ever seen, he takes you on a little adventure as his research assistant. You’ll get more than just knowledge and dinosaurs, you’ll also end up getting the sweet scientist who can’t seem to keep his hands off you.

Look for the Light: (Completed)

outbreak! Joel x fem! reader

Aly finds herself trying to escape the Boston QZ. What Aly doesn’t know is Tess is pairing her up with Joel to go on a dangerous mission to find Tommy. Will Aly survive the brooding, moody Joel or will she find herself falling hard for him?

Love Amidst the Blue: (Ongoing multiple part series)

sailor! Joel x mermaid fem! reader

Joel sets out on the Tyrrhenian Sea with his crew in search for hidden treasure. What he doesn’t know is that he’ll meet a beautiful mermaid that will turn his world upside down. Will he win her over or will he introduce a long ago foe to the mermaids of the hidden underwater city of Capri?

Royalty Clad in Silver Armor: (Ongoing multiple part series)

knight! Joel x princess fem! reader

You’re the royal princess of Ireland and your parents are hounding you to find a suitable man to marry. Joel gets placed as your protector (knight in shining armor) and swears an oath to put your life before his own. But after meeting him for the first time, you don’t want to leave him alone. In fact, you can’t help but to pine after him, even though he is off limits to you.

Saddle Me Up, Cowboy: (Ongoing Mini Series)

Cowboy! Joel Miller x fem! reader

One night at the country western bar was all it took for you to fall head over heels for the sweet cowboy that swept you off your feet. Little did you know, he may be what you’ve been after your entire life.

Saving What Was Lost: (Ongoing multiple part series)

You never expected to get auctioned off in a room full of filthy rich, vile men after being taken over a year ago, but it happened. And the man that buys you, the one with soft brown eyes, just might’ve saved your life. He doesn’t want to hurt you. No. He wants to show you what it’s like to fall back in love with life.

Slip Into Me: (Completed)

QZ! Joel x fem! reader

After getting caught by a FEDRA soldier in the QZ, a certain broad smuggler comes to your rescue. He’s not at all what you expect. He’s reserved, intense, and intimidating. But you soon find out he’s not all brick walls and harsh words like you thought. You just might be the one that tears down his walls and helps him see the light again in a torn up, infected world.

Somersaults and Stealing Hearts: (Ongoing multiple part series)

Coach! Joel Miller x gymnast fem! OFC

Being a competitive gymnast at UT Austin is nothing short of hard work and dedication, but winning Nationals is all I’ve ever wanted, so I stick out the long, grueling practices. When my favorite coach leaves for another job, just when I need her most, another coach has to fill in. And that coach ends up being Joel Miller. The tall, handsome man with pretty brown eyes that I just can’t seem to keep my eyes off. I won’t let an attractive man get me distracted from what I want, but what if I end up wanting him too?

Tear You Apart: (Completed)

Outbreak! Joel x fem! reader

Joel comes for you late at night. He always does. Always stalks, chases, and prowls after you like a starving wolf. And when he catches you, he devours you, feeds on you like the animal he is. Will you run and hide or will you give into the temptation that calls you into the forest?

✨One Shots✨

Guiding Light: You watch Marcus avenge himself week after week in the pit of the arena, but how much longer will it take to make you snap? How much longer can you go on watching when he’s the only man you want?

✨One Shots✨

Javi’s Playground: Javi decides to blow off some steam at the strip club, but he doesn’t intend to attempt to take one of the dancers home with him.

✨Moodboards✨

Colors 💜

Infra-Red ❤️

[back2bluesidex]

Deal? Deal. - KTH [Masterlist] (18+)

✨ Patreon Membership Exclusive Drabble Series ✨

[New to Patreon? using an iOS? Read this to save extra money]

Part of Bangtan Chaebol Universe

Pairing: Chaebol!Taehyung X Fem!Reader

Theme: angst, pining, fake marriage au

Word count: 1.2k (Full chapter) (The full smut is added here in the preview)

Summary: When it comes to Kim Taehyung, you have two identities. One - you are his personal assistant. Two - you are his friends with benefits. But a third identity threatens to make its way in your life when his father forces him to get married and he proposes you with a deal - stay married for two years, get divorced with a huge chunk of alimony money and live a comfortable life.

Nice deal, right? Sure. But not when you start falling for him along the way.

Warnings: SMUT, explicit sex, unprotected sex (wrap it)

Minors Do NOT interact!!!!!

A/N: This is a part of the Patreon exclusive ot7 series of Bangtan Chaebol Universe - Updated every Thursday 1:30 am UTC

Chapter Index: -

Part 1: Marry Me

Part 2: Don't Fall for Me

Part 3: Fake Vows

Part 4: April Shower

Part 5: Throwback in Time

Part 6: One Step Away

Part 7: A Third Person's POV

Part 8: Making Amends

Part 9: Deal? Deal.

Preview

If anyone asks you what you like the most about Kim Taehyung, you would say his fingers. 

His long, slender, veiny fingers are one of a kind - something to put in for a show in the museums. 

The same fingers are now entering and exiting you, evenly coated with your arousal, as you sit on his desk. 

Scandalous. 

Extremely scandalous is what this setting is. Your boss is finger-fucking you at two in the afternoon in his office and you are enjoying it as if today is your last day in the earth. 

You moan his name as he bites down on the skin of your throat, it instantly dresses in pink.

Oh how you love when he marks you! 

“Taehyung! Don’t mark me.” you fake-warn in a whiny, breathy voice. You can feel him smiling against your skin. 

He doesn’t say anything but adds another finger to your core. 

Your jaw drops at the new added stretch. 

Taehyung wraps his hand around your waist even tighter as he increases his pace. As a result, you find yourself getting closer and closer. 

“I’m close.” you mutter, your fingers rake through Taehyung’s scalp. 

And then, everything gets emptier. He pulls his fingers out of you as he looks up from your throat. A smirk plays on his handsome face. 

“We don’t have much time, darling. You gotta take me too.” He reasons. The timber of his voice spreads goosebumps all around your body. 

Pulling you down the desk, he turns your body around, pushes you down by your head and rolls your skirt higher. 

You hear him removing his belt and then within a few more minutes, the tip of his cock probes at your entrance. 

When he pushes in, you moan his name again. 

Taehyung fucks you like he owns you. He has been fucking you like this for more than a year now. 

He is your boss, your fuck-buddy and now your friend too. 

And just as a good friend he has told you about his distaste towards relationships, commitment and marriages. You have heard him silently, with a small flicker of hope dying every now and then. 

It’s nothing fatal. What you have for Taehyung is a tiny crush, so it doesn’t hurt all that bad. 

But now when you hear those words coming out of his mind, you need to take a bit of time to process things - if it’s really happening or are you just dreaming? 

“Marry me.” Taehyung says for a second time, his thrusts get sloppier and you know he is close. 

You don’t know if it’s his dick or his words but you come hard without any warning. 

“Shit” Taehyung groans as he chases his high. When he comes inside you, you feel euphoric. 

“Marry me.” he says for a third time. 

This time, while you are still lying against the wooden desk, with your body pressed against the cold wood - your heart skips a beat. 

Did he? Did he fall in love with you?

Is this a dream?

Are you even ready to get married? 

“Wh-what?” your shutter and blame the heaviness of your breath. 

“Meet me at our place after work. I will explain.” Teahyung replies, panting a little. 

He doesn’t look at you, rather gets busy in redressing himself. 

Oh. so there’s something to explain. 

You nod. Reaching for your discarded panties you murmur a little “sure.” 

[w2soneshots]

Could I do a Chrismd request? Maybe where they meet either jogging one day or their indoor climbing club and they eventually get together.

Thanks :)

Coffee? -ChrisMD

words: 0.8k+

warnings: none.

summary: you and Chris pass each other every week on your runs, one day he decides to finally ask you out.

notes: hello lovely💞 This is my first ChrisMD fic, wooo! I hope you enjoy and thank you for being patient with me, I’m trying desperately to find the motivation to write!!🏃‍♀️‍➡️✨

I woke up early this morning for my usual Saturday morning run in London. It was not particularly warm but thankfully there wasn't any rain or wind and once I get my body moving I always warm up anyway so I picked out an outfit accordingly.

I shivered slightly as I stepped out of the glass doors of my apartment building before plugging in my earphones and getting started. I always love starting my Saturday's this way since it helps to clear my head, plus I usually see the cute boy that lives in the apartment building two streets away from mine.

I know that because I've seen him leave multiple times in the last few months. I've been tempted to ask for his number but I always chicken out. Though every once and awhile I catch him looking my way when we pass by each other.

After a good fifteen minutes of running/jogging around London I see him coming towards me. My heart rate spikes. I put on a friendly smile and he returned it. I was slightly disappointed that he was still yet to say anything so I decided to take matters into my own hands, hopefully he doesn't have a girlfriend.

I stopped and turned around. He's already walking towards me. "Oh my god. Oh my god." I thought, mind racing. I quickly remove my earphones. "Hi, uhm... I'm Chris," he says. "y/n," I replied.

It was silent for a moment before he spoke up. "I was just wondering if you maybe wanted to get a coffee after your run, if you're free?" I nodded softly. "I'd like that. Meet you outside waterlow park in an hour?" "Yeah, great. See you then... y/n." He waved softly before turning around and jogging off. I let out a light, content sigh. Finally.

I swiftly finished my run and headed back to my apartment to clean up. I took a quick shower, did my hair then put on a casual outfit. By the time I was done it was almost time for us to meet.

I'd chosen the park that was located between our apartments so it was only a short walk. As I approached I saw that Chris was already stood waiting, which I was glad about.

"Hey," he said, with a cute smile spread across his lips. "Hi, where did you wanna go?" I asked. "Is he a starbucks or a cosy little café kinda guy?" I wondered. "I always go to this café ten minutes from here," he said. That answered my question. "Great, lead the way."

We made small talk as we walked. He asked how long I'd been running for and we briefly discussed the fact we'd seen each other so many times but never shared more than a friendly smile.

When we reached the café, which was tucked right on the corner of the street, we headed inside and both ordered a coffee. I was surprised I hadn't ever realised it was there but I was glad he'd shown me it since it was actually really cute.

We sat down opposite each other on one of the small tables at the front of the shop next to the window. "So... favourite colour?" He asked jokingly. I breathed out a chuckle. "I hate that question." I was hoping I wouldn't have to hear it for a while, since I was really starting to like Chris.

It took just a few weeks before we were quite comfortable with each other. We would regularly do our runs together since they fell around the same time but tonight I'm going round to his apartment for the first time to order a take out and watch a movie.

I put on some comfortable clothes, threw my hair up, grabbed a bottle of wine that I'd bought especially and walked the five minutes to his place.

I rang the doorbell and he answered soon after. I smiled softly at him as he welcomed me inside. "Wow, this is really nice," I complemented as I stepped in. His apartment was clean and quite cosy, kind of like the coffee shop.

We both sat down after he grabbed some glasses and poured us both some wine. I got comfy as he scrolled through netflix. This was exactly the kind of dates I enjoyed.

About an hour and a half into the movie (which ended up being Harry Potter) and after the takeaway had arrived and been eaten we sat close to each other, thighs touching and his arm around my shoulder. I could barely focus.

Though nothing else happened until it was time for me to leave, as it was now late and pitch black outside. I stood by the door, ready to go when Chris stopped me.

"Uh- before you go..." he began. I was hoping that he was doing what I thought he was doing. He leaned closer, his hand moving down to my hoodie covered waist. It was silent for a few moments longer before I closed the gap, connecting our lips for the first time.

When we both pulled away we shared a content smile. "Thank you for tonight, I'll see you soon?" I broke the silence. "Yeah, yeah. I'll text you." I nodded softly then waved slightly as I walked out of the door.

I was very excited to see him again and had a really good feeling about where this was going.

[hey-august]

Your Captain Knows Best

Word count: ~5.2k (hello to the longest one-shot I think I've written) Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, buggy x GN!reader, no use of Y/N, humiliation, degradation, praise, oral - reader receiving, insertion sex, spit as lube, creampie, cum eating A/N: This comes from this wonderful request! Anon, I hope you like! 🩷 Also, shoutout to @be-not-afraid-gg for getting me on the right track with this fic! ✨

Taglist: @rorywritesjunk

“Spit on it.”

You paused mid-swipe, processing what he said. You must have taken too long to think about the three words, because Buggy pressed his boot against your shoulder. Allowing him to ease you back, you shifted your weight to rest more on your feet than your knees, and looked up at your captain.

“I know you heard me. If you don’t want to do that, then you can always lick my boots clean.”

Fuck. How did he always make such disgusting things sound so good?

Reaching up, you brought Buggy’s foot back down to rest your lap. The grit of dried saltwater, gunpowder, and other debris caught on your fingertips. You weren’t going to lick his boots (not this time, at least), but you would gladly do what your captain asked for.

As a frothy glob settled onto the leather and waited for you to spread it around, a crewmember stopped by to review the plans for tonight’s show. A heat crept up your face. They had to have seen you struggle to collect enough saliva to clean the filthy boot. You focused on the task at hand, smearing the liquid with a rag.

“Right, and cut this act. It’s not happening tonight.”

The other pirate repeated your name to confirm the act. A nudge against your lap signaled that it was your turn to join the conversation.

Looking up, you gave a small smile. An understanding smile. 

“The captain knows what’s best.” Another nudge. “Besides, I’m really not that good. I would make everyone else look bad.” Another nudge. “And I don’t want to ruin the crew’s reputation by making a mistake.”

The grin on Buggy’s face grew with each comment you parroted from your training sessions. He had spent countless hours trying to get you to meet your marks and not make obvious fuck-ups, but that attention was a double-edged sword.

Just as his rare praise had your heart pounding, Buggy’s ‘motivational speeches’ during practice sessions made your knees weak. Every pause to keep your balance when your legs threatened to give way, every moment trying to catch your breath, every second lost in your sordid thoughts, everything resulted in errors that you couldn’t hide from a seasoned performer. No matter how subtle. And each blunder was followed with hissed complaints that made your knees shake.

Even when Buggy resorted to other motivational measures, they didn’t have the effect he intended. The burning shame of spending a day with ‘fuck up’ written on the back of your hands, or ‘I make stupid mistakes’ scrawled down your arm was not as strong as the heat that pooled in your body when Buggy held you tight enough to leave bruises while writing those incentives. Even if everyone could see what a failure you were, you felt proud of earning those marks, written by your captain.

Both unfortunately and fortunately for you, Buggy caught on. He noticed the way you were almost too eager to offer your body for his inspiring writings. Dark pupils overtaking the color in your eyes became obvious, despite your attempts to avoid his gaze. The breath you’d hold when he was close and when he touched you, all to hide the sounds that you’d only release when you were alone in bed with a hand between your legs. But an echo of those needy sounds carried through when you’d sigh in relief (or maybe frustration) when he pulled away.

At the end of one particular long pointless practice, Buggy was fed up with your failures. He was irritated with how much time he spent on you, while getting nothing in return. But the moment he snarled out, “attention whore,” your wide-eyed expression and stammers became the bow on a gift that he realized was his to unwrap. 

He tugged at the packaging by asking you if that’s what he should write today. If you wanted him to label you as an ‘attention whore’ for everyone to see. Shit, you couldn’t disagree with the truth. You couldn’t lie. Not at this moment. You felt yourself unravel, feeling exposed as you nodded rapidly and rushed to comment about how the captain knows best.

Boosted by the compliment, Buggy also had your costume changed. The stack of folded clothing was handed over at the end of a meeting. What was once more form fitting and flexible was replaced with items that were baggy and woven - ultimately more constricting than what you previously wore. You waited until the crew began to disperse before approaching Buggy. 

“Captain, I think I got the wrong costume.”

A quick glance was all he needed to confirm. “No, that’s the right one. Go change.”

“But Captain-”

“Do you think you know better than me?” The sharp question slipped from a tight grin. Buggy tilted his head and waited for an answer.

The question caught the attention of the few pirates in the area, whose conversations shifted in the wake of this discussion. Subtly wasn’t a strength among the crew, but eavesdropping apparently was.

“No, it’s just- It’s not what I’m used to wearing,” you explained nervously.

“Oh, you prefer your old costume?” The smile on Buggy’s face finally reached his eyes with a glint.

You nodded.

“So you like showing off your body.” It wasn’t a question. “See, I think that’s why you keep fucking up. You like the attention. You want people to watch you.”

A familiar heat was coursing through your body, already setting your face alight. Yes, you liked the attention, but from only one particular person. The person who leaned closer to continue his monologue. 

Buggy hooked a finger under your chin and continued, “I’m right, aren’t I? Or are you such a greedy attention whore that you need to have your body on display all the time?”

Buggy’s low voice stoked the fire that was consuming you, combining the flames of embarrassment and desire into a raging inferno.

“No, Captain.” The words came out in a whisper as light as ash.

“Remember what you said - Your captain knows what’s best.” Moving his hand from beneath your chin, Buggy cupped your cheek. He winked when you nodded against his touch and broke away with a pat that bordered on a light smack.

You were pulled back from those memories when a second boot dropped into your lap, the heel digging into your leg.

“Spit.”

---

The show went off without any issues. Mostly. You stayed backstage doing simple tasks to help each act progress smoothly. Making sure there was fresh water for the performers, cutting lemons for the demanding divas, and grabbing accessories and props that were forgotten until the last minute. You also stood in the wings, ready to compliment and praise those who came off stage with pissed off expressions, spewing anger about the lack of excitement from the captive audience.

Although you weren’t performing, you wore the new costume. At this point it was more of a daily uniform, due to the disapproving looks Buggy would shoot your way whenever you wore something else. Any substitutions or adjustments were guaranteed to be met with raised eyebrows, sneers, and shakes of his head that would cause his blue hair to dance with disappointment. But the worst was the silent treatment. The moments his eyes would glaze when they drifted past you, when he willfully ignored your presence like a petulant child. But the spark in his eyes made up for all the trade-offs that accompanied your new uniform. 

As you ran laps to hit different dressing rooms, the green room, various prop bins, plus the kitchen to refill water pitchers and chop citrus fruits, a heat started building up under your clothes. A big number on set created a lull backstage, which you took as a moment to find an empty corner, lean against a storage barrel, and relax. 

You tugged at your woven top to let fresh air waft in, but the humid feeling returned the moment you stopped. In need of something longer lasting, you started to unbutton the shirt. Freeing two of the shell buttons was just enough for better circulation. 

“That’s not how you’re supposed to dress.” The remark was flat, weighed down by disappointment. 

Shit.

You expected Buggy to be clowning around and schmoozing with the audience, not skulking around backstage like you.

“I just- I needed to cool down,” you explained, pulling at the chest of your shirt as if the demonstration would excuse the faux pas.

Buggy watched, his eyes lingering on your glistening chest. You felt bare, like the two buttons revealed far too much. Reaching up to fix yet another mistake, you were stopped by a pair of disembodied gloved hands. The tight grip rolled your knuckles against each other and large thumbs dug until the meat of your palms.

“By exposing yourself?”

The accusation struck a sweaty nerve. “It’s not a lot! It’s just two buttons,” you spat. “I’m still dressed. It’s not like you can actually see anything.”

“Ahh, so you do want to be seen? You like when people stare at you? I mean, I figured that’s why you’re such a fuck up on stage. I didn’t know stripping was an option, though. We could work that into the next show.”

“No! That’s not-”

“I thought I knew best,” Buggy cut you off with a sing-song voice.

The swell of muffled music seeping into the back areas matched the anxiety surging in your body. Thoughts of taking off your clothes, piece by piece, while Buggy watched, danced in your mind. They traipsed and tumbled to the truth - that you did want to be seen. That you liked it when he stared at you. When Buggy paid attention to you. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

“...you do. You’re right, Captain. I wasn’t wearing my costume correctly, I’m sorry.” Hopefully this acknowledgement would distract him from the other accurate observations.

Maybe it was a trick in the dim lighting, but it looked like Buggy’s eyes sparkled at your response.

“Good, I’m right. So you’ll be in the next show. We could end with a flashy number…” Buggy’s hands released yours and started gesturing in the air as he turned away with his grandiose planning.

“Wait!” You lunged forwards to pull back the one-sided agreement. Desperate fingertips grazed against his heavy coat but were unable to take hold.

“Hm, you have a good point,” Buggy said, splitting and spinning his top half to face you. “Maybe we should wait. You might be terrible at this too. I know - we’ll have an audition.”

With that, he twirled and reassembled in time with a crescendo of music that ended with a lion’s roar and strained applause.

“My room, after the show.”

---

You stood in the middle of the captain’s quarters on an island of discarded clothes and covered only in goosebumps. The muffled sounds of a raging afterparty weren’t enough to cover your shallow breathing or the scratch of pen on paper as Buggy wrote down notes about the night’s show. He hardly spared you a look after telling you to get undressed. Although you removed the clothes slowly, your half-assed, untalented striptease went unnoticed. Eventually you stood in the same spot, entirely exposed.

Every little shift you made to adjust to the rolling waves, or to keep your thoughts anchored, went unnoticed. You were able to watch Buggy from the corner of your eye and see how immersed he was in the paperwork.

His bushy brows furrowed as he chewed on the thumb of his glove in between scribbles. Papers were shuffled and unnecessary pages slammed back on the desk. This wasn’t performative - he was actually working. And it was captivating. Both because he was deeply invested in the work, but also because you didn’t know how to interrupt. Or if you even should.

That possibility was taken away from you by a flurry of knocks on the wooden door. Your heart sped up to match the pace of each rap from the unknown visitor. Was the door locked? What if they came in and saw you like this? You turned to stare at Buggy, who still didn’t look at you.

“What?” Buggy groaned loudly, throwing his head to the ceiling and leaning back in his chair.

“Captain, we’re running low on refreshments.” The words slurred their way through the door.

“Okay, and…?” The question trailed off into a pause. A heavy pause that rang in your head.

The doorknob rattled. And turned. It wasn’t fucking locked. He didn’t lock the fucking door. There wasn’t much you could do to improve this predicament. You could hold your clothes to your body and try to preserve some of your dignity. Then again, how much was left at this point? Hiding behind furniture was a terrible option - you weren’t going to play a messed up version of naked hide-and-seek.

Faster than you could consider other options, a gloved hand whizzed forwards and held the door shut. The few centimeters it creaked open were pushed back and met with a drunken grunt.

“I’m busy,” Buggy said loudly and slowly, his voice soaked with annoyance. “Exactly what do you need me for?”

“We’re running out of drinks, cap’n.”

“You already said that.” Buggy rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Can-” The sloshed pirate must have pressed his lips against the edge of the door before continuing. “Can we open more barrels?”

The request slid around the door, entering the room with clarity that sent anxiety and adrenaline surging through your body. Although you knew he was on the other side of the door, knowing someone else was so close sent tingles down the back of your head and spine before reaching around to prick your bare chest. As the conversation continued without you, the turbulent waves gave way to softer swells and your thoughts started to drift. Sure, you were still being ignored and you were still naked, but there was a strange feeling of safety.  

The discussion ended with a threat of bathroom duty if anything more than four barrels and a case of wine was opened. The door lock clicked and stillness returned to the room. Your mind came back to your body, suddenly uncomfortably aware of the condition it was in. Of the growing tension and sensitivity. Of the warmth that started to collect down low. Each sensation was amplified when you realized that you were no longer being ignored.

Buggy remained at his desk, head cocked to the side and resting on a gloved hand. The aqua color of his eyes poured over your exposed skin, ice cold and boiling hot at the same time.

“I think we’re just going to strip you of all performance duties. It wasn’t flashy enough,” he finally said.

“You barely even watched! You weren’t paying attention to m-” Shit. The words started flowing before you could even register what order they were in and you slapped your mouth shut too late.

The grin on Buggy’s face nearly put his painted smile to shame. “Say that again. Tell me what you really wanted to say.”

You didn’t want to. You wanted to put your clothes back on, go back to your room, curl up, and pretend none of this happened.

“C’mon, I want to hear you tell your captain that he’s right,” Buggy coaxed through that devastating smile. How could he make those words sound so soft and so dangerous? So enticing?

“I wanted-”

“I can’t hear you.”

Your hand fell from your mouth at the flat interruption

“I wanted you to pay attention to me, Captain.”

He nodded along to your words and into the silence after you finished speaking. You weren’t done.

“I…I like it.”

“Because?” Buggy pushed you to keep going, rather than continuing to drag each word from your pretty lips. Lips that you licked nervously before giving Buggy what he wanted. 

“Because I’m an attention whore,” you confessed.

“Again.”

“I’m an attention whore.” 

Fuck, yes you were. Everytime he made you say these words, you felt like you were stripping again - removing your sense of self and exposing who you really were inside. Someone who would do near anything in hopes of capturing his eyes and his mind. Anything he asked of you, no matter how ridiculous or humiliating, just to hear your name on his tongue.

“Louder.”

Buggy was a cat who finally caught a scrumptious canary, holding it between his paws. He was enjoying this game. And so were you, but you were ready to take it to the next level and this was your chance.

“I’m your whore, Captain!”

For once, the smarmy look on Buggy’s face flickered. Eyebrows raised slightly in surprise and the corners of his smile fell before transforming into a wolfish grin. Leaning back in his chair, the captain beckoned you closer with a tantalizing curl of two fingers.

As you walked forwards, Buggy reclined and spread his legs into an indecently dominant pose. Another twitch from his finger told you to lower yourself. You were more than glad to kneel before your captain. Trapped between his body heat and your desire, you barely noticed the rough wood floor digging into your bare knees.

A gloved hand floated over and cupped your chin. The leather from his performance gloves was rich and velvety. Softening into his touch, you felt a twinge of worry that you might melt completely. Meeting his watchful gaze, the worry dissipated. Now you wanted nothing more than to dissolve, to fall apart because of him.

The hold was replaced with a nudge against your lips. The silent request quickly changed into a demand as two fingers slid into your barely open mouth. You accepted the intrusion, dropping your jaw to accommodate the thick digits and welcome them into the back of your throat. With your bottom lip resting against the leather on the palm of his hand, Buggy’s fingers began to wiggle and flex, becoming acquainted with your insides and testing your limits. 

You were given a moment of respite, just enough time to fill your lungs with fresh air, before Buggy began pumping his hand into your waiting mouth. Your tongue lolled out with the movement, turning into an escape route for the excess drool that couldn’t soak into his glove. Whenever your eyebrows furrowed a little too tightly, you were given the briefest second to catch your breath. 

Eventually satisfied with fingerfucking your throat, Buggy recalled his hand. You could both see the discoloration from your spit. Buggy flexed his fingers to admire the handiwork before removing his gloves. Then he unbuckled his belt, the sound of which nearly had you drooling again. You wiped your mouth, just in case.

“Undo my pants. You need to see what you do to me,” Buggy said in a low voice.

The lunge of your greedy hands was stopped by an addendum.

“Ah-ah, no hands.” Buggy licked his painted lips and pursed them into a little kiss that fluttered down to you and settled in your stomach.

Oh, that’s what he meant. Dropping your hands, you leaned forwards and used your nose to push away the hem of his shirt. It wasn’t slippery material, but you struggled to move it enough to reach the hardware on his pants. Buggy took pity (or maybe he was too horny to watch you struggle for long) and pulled up his shirt, exposing a patch of blue hair trailing down to the treasure you were desperate to reach.

Another hand found a resting spot on the back of your head. It followed your movement as you twisted and turned, tilted and tugged, bit and nibbled. Sometimes his hold would work against you, causing you to slip and bump into his erection. Each press against his twitching member gave you motivation to keep trying until you were finally able to unbutton his pants and pull at them enough to undo the zipper.

“Good job,” Buggy groaned, delighted that you made it this far.

He pressed your face against his cock, which was still hidden beneath his underwear. Buggy made sure to rub your lips against the wet spot of precum. It was a little salty and more than delicious. You wanted more. Needed more. You wrapped your lips around his head and sucked on the soggy fabric, surprising Buggy. His fingers tightened in your hair as a strained groan escaped his mouth.

Spurred by the reaction, you licked along the underside of his clothed erection. You moved slowly and let your spit pave the way. Every pulsing throb that pressed against your tongue whetted your appetite. It added to the hunger in your body and soul until you were aching, so painfully full of desire that had no escape. Regretfully, you pulled back. The hand on the back of your head shook slightly at the break in contact.

“What? Are you done?” he asked between breaths.

You shook your head, mesmerized. Buggy’s eyes were hazy. Fogged up and unfocused. His face was sprinkled with a pink blush and beads of sweat. His chest was heaving. And he looked so damn good.

“Use your words, fuck. W-why’d you stop?” Fingers twitched in your hair.

“More… I want more. Please, I need y-!!” 

The rushing stream was stalled by a yelp when Buggy’s hands hoisted you on top of his desk. From your new height, you watched your captain lower himself before you, claiming the space between your legs as his. Suddenly, his mouth was on you. His tongue touching you. Fingers digging into your thighs.

Everything left you in that moment. Every thought, the air in your chest, the ability to hold yourself upright, all of it taken away in one fell swoop. Worried about falling backwards and losing sight of Buggy indulging in a feast, you reached for him. Your hands fumbled, unable to find purchase with his hat or that damn bandana. Knocking both out of the way, your fingers found what they needed in his blue hair. A growl rumbled through his throat and ripped through your body at the desperation in your grip. 

Buggy came at you with increased ferocity. With a wildness that had you crying out in excitement and fear. That damn mouth of his wasn’t just talented at turning phrases. Fuck. You felt like Buggy would swallow you down in one gulp if he could. 

He ate and ate, consuming you like he had been consuming your thoughts for as long as you’ve been on the ship. With each lick, nibble, suck, reverberating groan, and mumbled nothings against your skin, you responded. Your toes curled. Your legs shook. Your fingers tightened and released. His name poured from your lips on repeat, becoming a jumble of syllables in your ears.

You could see stars, they were within reach. Swollen and ready to explode. But before they could shower you in their delicious warmth, they disappeared.

“Is that the best you can do?” The question wasn’t said with lips against your skin. You looked down, bleary eyed and confused. “I’m giving you all of this attention and you’re quieter than a mouse’s fart.”

What the fuck. Your head was swirling, mourning the loss of those sweet stars. His name lingered on your tongue, the full-bodied taste leaving behind an emptiness. What more could he want?

“Are you afraid everyone will hear you? Don’t you want to show me what a good job I’m doing?”

Your eyes fluttered, the stars returning to the edge of your vision. You nodded, promising to do a better job. Promising that you wouldn’t fuck up, like you usually do.

Buggy stood up and rushed to pull down his pants, clanging his belt against the wooden desk in his excitement. His pants and underwear caught around his knees, but he didn’t move to shimmy them lower. Now the focus was on his thick cock, dripping with precum that begged to be spread and smeared. 

It looked so heavy. So fucking thick and heavy. Buggy’s smile twitched at your reaction, caught between embarrassment and pride.

“C’mere, show me what a whore you are,” Buggy said, interrupting your assessment. “Show me you can take it.”

Your movement forwards was aided by his bare hands on your ass. Rough calluses on soft skin. Fingers digging into supple flesh. Buggy’s touch was searing hot, etching his hold on your body so that you felt it even when he let go. He lined himself up, stopping just as his body kissed your entrance. A passionate kiss that he continued with his lips against yours.

“Spit on it,” he murmured around your bottom lip, which was trapped between his teeth.

Buggy just barely missed getting headbutted as you pitched forwards, more impatient than eager. You wanted to see his cock again. You wanted to coat it. To feel it. To have it inside. You wanted it so badly. Gifting him a mouthful to use as lubricant, you hoped that he would give you what you craved in return.

And he did. You watched as Buggy pushed inside, slowly. So tantalizingly slow. It seemed impossible that he’d fit, especially if he wasn’t going to shove it in. But it did. Your body stretched to accommodate Buggy’s wonderfully thick cock. You whined and hissed through the intrusion, relishing the pleasure and pain he brought.

“It- it fits,” you gasped.

“Uh-huh, I knew you could do it. Such a good fucking whore for your captain.” Buggy paused with his hips slotted against yours, shoulders rising and falling with each restrained breath he took. “A tight one…m’gonna change that.”

Your eyes fluttered and rolled as he pulled back and began fucking you as promised. You felt entirely at his mercy, caged by his body and stretched to your limit. Your nails dragged across his clothed shoulders, catching on ripples in the fabric, rather than scratching his skin and muscles. Tight muscles. All of Buggy was hard and tight.

“I can take it,” you urged. “Please, just fuck me. Use me.” 

The steady tempo turned into a staccato at your words. “That’s it, that’s my good whore,” Buggy said, his voice dripping with pleasure. “Keep that fucking mouth open, I need to hear you take it.”

He slammed into you, little lights exploding behind your eyelids. A little taste of the stars that you knew were coming. Slack jawed, you let your moans fall in time with his thrusts. Moans and cries of delight echoed off of him as you clung loosely to his body. You barely heard Buggy’s demand before his teeth were digging into your shoulder. A loud shout met his demand and raised the level of the sounds that fell from your mouth.

Fingers in your hair tilted your head to the side. “Louder. Don’t tell me you’re afraid they’ll hear you being fucked by your captain,” Buggy growled against your ear. A bite on your earlobe brought another increase in volume and tears to your eyes.

You shook your head and called out his name. Another nip. Another nibble. You cried out louder. Your hands began shaking. You pleaded, crying Buggy’s name on repeat against his shoulder. Arms wrapped around your back and held you closer, pressing you harder against his mean thrusts.

“C’mon, you can do it…”

That was it. That was all you needed. Even if you couldn’t put on a good performance for the circus, you certainly could do this. You could take this. You could take a rough fuck from your captain. You could cry his name to the heavens, to the stars that would explode with you. 

Moans stretched into screams that scratched your throat. His name stretched into high-pitched cries that hurt your ears. Incoherent pleas took all your breath and made your lips numb. Yet, with all the cacophony you created, all you could hear was your captain’s sweet, sweet praise.

“Come on my cock like a good whore,” he rasped, clearly struggling to hold back his own orgasm.

“I can-I can do i- I’m cu-” The words were choked out of you. The immense pressure that built up was too much, but it kept growing, taking all the space left in your body. Carrying you away until everything exploded. Until starlight and shimmers filled your vision. 

For a moment, you were gone. You hardly existed. Everything wiped clean. And then you were back in your body. Back to feeling all sorts of sinful things. Your body was still struggling against all the pressure that had built up. Trying but failing to squeeze against Buggy’s thick intrusion, which was still ravaging your body. The bright cries that ripped through you were now edging into dry sobs of pleasure.

Your performance was finally rewarded. Buggy’s own sounds were strangled as he came, depositing a hot load of cum deep in your body. He fucked through each pulsing shot, your tension milking him until his balls were drained and you were full. Uncomfortably full.

Buggy’s orgasm ended with a groaning sigh as he nearly collapsed against you. One arm was still holding you close, while the other rested on the desk, propping you both up.

The room felt stuffy, yet empty. Full of everything that just happened, but the sounds of passion were replaced with the dim soundtrack of the ship’s party. After a few minutes reveling in this atmosphere, Buggy peeled himself off your sticky body. He raked a hand through his hair, dragging the loose strands stuck to his forehead back into place. A casual movement that was so… He winced as your body clenched around him, an appreciation for the view.

“So needy,” he said through a crooked smile. A weary but pleased grin.

Arms on your knees kept your legs spread, as Buggy pulled out. Disconnected hands were right there, thumbs on either side of your used hole to keep it open. Gaping. Drooling white cum. 

A shiver tore through your body at the feeling of his heavy load sliding down and out. A shiver that was frozen in place when a finger scooped up some and brought it to your lips. A moan traded places with the offering, exiting your mouth as Buggy’s coated finger entered. The mingled taste was wonderful, so fucking tasty. And his cum was such a soothing texture on your aching throat.

---

You woke up feeling almost hungover - not because of alcohol though. Your body throbbed and your head was spinning, but it was pleasant. A weight on your chest kept you pinned to the bed. Buggy was haphazardly draped across your body, his head and arm resting on your torso, and a leg hooked around yours. He was still sound asleep. Closed eyes tracked his dreams and his snoring breath skated across your skin. 

Gently, you brought over an arm to push some hair from his face. He looked so beautiful in the moonlight. The snores quieted for a moment.  Then they were replaced by a heavy sigh and a tighter embrace. Tucking his arm around you more and curling his leg to hug yours, Buggy snuggled against you and fell back into his deep slumber. As his breaths crinkled back into snores, they carried you back to sleep.

A sweet, comforting sleep, well-earned after a performance that you didn’t fuck up for once. All because your captain knows best.

[farfromstrange]

Fictober Day 31: Shibari Ropes

Fictober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Prompt: Shibari Ropes (✨)

Summary: Matt ties you up and he has you for dinner.

Warnings: SMUT (18+), dom!Matt, use of ropes (hands tied behind the back; also, the knots are implied to be very tight and not easily to get out of) implied pain kink, mentions of nipple play, use of "good girl", oral f!receiving

Word Count: 900

A/n: This is the last Fictober 2024 fic. This should have been posted on Halloween and I had something more naughty planned, but life happened, so now you get this Matt Murdock going down on you while you're bound, and that's also pretty hot, no? Enjoy, and thank you all for reading and bearing with me since October. I love you!

Read Me On AO3! (coming soon)

He kneels before you, illuminated by the red light that consumes the room like a hungry whale.

His cock weeps against his stomach. The same nimble fingers that worked the delicate knots of the red robe along your neck, your wrists, your chest, and your stomach are now clenched around the armrests of the leather chair you’re perched on.

Your skin burns from the rough material as it slides across your skin with every breath. The knot sits between your breasts, your nipples hard and swollen from the earlier assault of his lips on them. They’re trapped between those thick pieces of red rope, and you’re completely exposed to him. A work of art, tied up without a ribbon but nevertheless a gift to him—a gift to be devoured. 

You have nowhere to hide, nowhere to run, your hands behind your back and your legs spread over the armrests. Your cunt is on full display, glistening and throbbing with the need that courses through your veins like lava. 

Matt observes you in a way someone with functioning eyes could never. It’s more intense that way, and you find yourself running hot with the blood rushing to your head. Even without seeing you, he sees you. All of you, not just the bare skin that’s on display but the person that’s hiding underneath. 

He senses the air brushing over your bare skin, those hardened nipples poking out of the gap in the rope, your muscles straining against your confinement and your toes curling whenever his breath fans across your pussy. The anticipation is setting your nerves alight. He can hear the very thoughts running through your mind at a speed that is beyond inhuman. 

Matt rests a hand on your thigh, comforting, warm. To him, you’re a silhouette on a burning canvas flickering to the symphony of your pulse, and God has never created a more divine masterpiece. 

“How’re you feeling?” he asks. 

You nod quietly, not trusting your voice to come out quite right. 

“Use your words, baby.”

“I’m okay,” you breathe out. 

“Good girl.” He smiles, but it lasts only a moment before his hazel eyes turn black, and he tugs at the rope around your chest; he tugs and drags it across, tightening it and loosening it all the same. 

The almost painful burn settles in your core like the starting flame of an inferno. The wetness travels down your thigh and leaves a mess on the leather beneath you. His fingers feel so good on your heated skin, but that is not where you want them. That is not where you need them. 

Matt pushes his palms against your thighs, spreading them impossibly further and up against your torso. A shiver runs down your spine. 

“You’re so wet already,” he growls. “I barely even touched you.”

You whimper, “Matt…”

“Hm?” He runs his thumb higher. 

You try to form a coherent sentence, but it turns into a moan when he circles the skin closest to your cunt. 

“What is it, sweetheart?” his voice drips with the sweetness of honey, and he bleeds it into a gentle kiss against your left knee. “What do you need?” 

He’s so strong you don’t stand a chance against the death grip he has on you, not to mention the rope that has its iron fist wrapped around your wrists. The cold of the leather against your bare skin is your only reminder that you’re still alive, that this isn’t some dream you could wake up from at any moment. This is beyond real, and you need him like you need the air you breathe. 

“Please,” you beg at the cost of your self-respect, “I need you.”

One little plea and he melts.

“Where?” he asks. His face inches closer to your cunt. 

The words feel foreign on your tongue when you answer, “My pussy.”

And it does something to him, too. His cock twitches against his stomach, precum leaking from his tip and getting tangled in the hairs of his happy trail, and he buries his nose right where you said you needed him. 

“Your pussy,” he echoes, correcting himself a second later as he utters, “Mine.”

And then his mouth is on your pussy, his lips close around your clit, and you cry out into the hue of the neon lights, not praying to God but the man worshipping between your thighs. 

Matt tastes you inside and out, playing you like a delicate instrument only he knows how to play. He eats your pussy just right. Never too much, never not enough. He devours his favorite meal with the eagerness of a man starved, and you fall freely through the clouds into the storm that is Matt Murdock. 

Your moans are his favorite sound. They bounce off the walls and echo in his ears. They sing to him like angels or sirens or God himself. The wave builds and builds, his cock straining with the sensory overload of all that is you and the throes of pleasure he puts you in, but it would be utterly selfish not to give your pussy all the love he can possibly give before allowing himself to succumb to an orgasm. If you don’t come first, what is he even living for? 

When it finally does happen—when you finally fall over the edge with your body screaming—he takes all of you in, drowning in your sweet, sweet cum as he spurts all over himself.

And he won’t stop consuming you until you tell him to. 

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