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lockburn-castle · 3 months ago

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the city of love

synopsis in which dokyeom proposes to yn in Paris pairing nonidol!lee dokyeom x gn!reader genre fluff warnings dk being anxious, a small part about cabarets, terms of endearment/petnames, kisses, reader wears a dress, that's all i can think of (do let me know if theres more) word count 1.9k

playlist cant help falling in love marry you

notes: been loving romcoms for a while and decided to write this story based on what id like my proposal to look like HAHAHA hope yall like it !! p.s. 10 things i hate about you is one of my favourites <3 do give me more ideas for fics in the cmmts or send me an ask !!

As Dokyeom paced around the room, his mind raced with a whirlwind of thoughts. The suitcase in front of him was half-packed, clothes neatly folded, but his thoughts were anything but organized. The idea of proposing to you filled him with both excitement and anxiety. He glanced at the bag of balloons he’d slipped into his luggage, a reminder of the grand plan he had meticulously crafted for a few months now.

“What if they don’t say yes, hyung?” Dokyeom fretted, pacing around their room as he packed for the trip with Y/N. His phone was on speaker, and he were calling the group for some last-minute advice.

“Have you seen the way they look at you?” Seungkwan’s voice came through, trying to sound reassuring. “I’m pretty sure they’ll say yes.”

“If they say no, can I steal them from you?” Dino joked with a laugh. “They make amazing cookies.”

“Not helping,” Dokyeom mumbled, nervously folding another shirt into their suitcase.

Dokyeom's fingers brushed the edge of the velvet ring box, its weight a tangible symbol of his hopes and fears. “I just hope everything goes smoothly. What if all this effort is for nothing? They might leave me.”

“Don’t worry about all of that,” Jeonghan advised gently. “Remember to have fun. Trust the plan. Everything will fall into place if it’s meant to be.”

“And don’t forget to pack the ring,” S.Coups chimed in with a grin that Dokyeom could practically hear.

Dokyeom took a deep breath, nodding even though no one could see him. “Alright, I think I’m all packed. Let’s hope everything goes according to plan.” He muttered the last part.

Everything had gone surprisingly well so far. You and Dokyeom had talked about this trip to Paris for years, but something always got in the way. Now, finally, both of you were able to take a seven-day leave and make it happen. The city felt like something out of a dream — timeless, and full of hidden wonders.

On the first day, after landing in Paris, you both felt the excitement settle in as you headed straight to the Louvre. The enormous layout of the museum took your breath away as you went inside, surrounded by art from all around the world. Walking hand in hand, you wove through the maze of halls, pausing at famous works like the Mona Lisa and Winged Victory of Samothrace.

When you reached the sculpture Psyche Revived by Cupid’s Kiss, you both stood in awe. The way the marble figures intertwined seemed almost too lifelike, as if they were frozen in a moment of affection. You couldn’t help but admire the way the light bounced off the smooth stone, highlighting every detail. Dokyeom’s arm hugged your waist as you both took in the beauty and history surrounding you.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” You whispered, eyes fixed on the sculpture.

Dokyeom nodded, a small smile on his lips. “Yeah, but you know what’s even more beautiful?” He turned to look at you, his smile widening.

You rolled your eyes playfully, nudging him gently. “You’re such a cheeseball.”

“I mean it, though,” he chuckled, squeezing your hand. “I still can’t believe we’re here. Together.”

In that moment, surrounded by art and history, everything felt perfectly right.

You spent more time at the Louvre than planned, snapping tons of photos for Instagram and for your own memories.

On the second day, you and Dokyeom decided to explore the Montmartre, starting with the stunning Sacré-Cœur Basilica. The white domes stood out against the sky, offering an amazing view of Paris below. Inside, the intricate mosaics shimmered in the light, creating a serene atmosphere as you took in the stunning architecture.

After leaving the Basilica, you strolled through the nearby Place du Tertre, a lively square filled with the buzz of street artists and their easels. You and Dokyeom sat down to get your portraits done, soaking in the lively atmosphere. The atmosphere was vibrant, with the sounds of sketching, laughter, and conversations blending together into a perfect Montmartre experience.

After a delicious lunch at a little café, you both headed to the Musée d'Orsay. There, you found yourself captivated by masterpieces from artists like Van Gogh and Monet. Each painting seemed to pull you into its world, and the museum’s elegant interior only enhanced the experience. The two of you wandered through the halls, taking in every detail of the beautiful works of art.

As evening approached, your excitement began to build. You were about to experience the legendary Moulin Rouge, a cabaret show in Paris you’d heard so much about. Dokyeom, always full of surprises, had secretly bought tickets for the famous venue. As you arrived, the bright lights, vibrant costumes, and captivating performances whisked you away to a world of entertainment you had only dreamed of. Checking "watching a cabaret show" off your bucket list felt even more magical than you had imagined.

By the third day, you decided to slow things down, spending the afternoon at the Champ de Mars for a picnic, with the Eiffel Tower looming gracefully above. You both laughed as you watched tourists pose dramatically in front of the landmark, feeling content in your own world together. Later, you took a scenic cruise along the Seine River, the water shimmering in the late afternoon light.

The two of you returned to the hotel room early to prepare for a special dinner at the Eiffel Tower, a night you had anticipated with excitement. You had chosen a stunning white Chanel mini dress, its chic simplicity accentuated by black off-shoulder sleeves that framed your shoulders gracefully. A delicate ribbon, adorned with a Chanel camellia, cinched the waist, adding a touch of timeless elegance. The soft glow of the evening light made the fabric shimmer subtly as you moved.

Dokyeom had chosen a new suit to complement your outfit. His classic black and white suit was impeccably tailored, with a simple yet elegant Chanel brooch pinned to the lapel.

“I had to pick out a new suit to match you, you know,” he said with a playful smile. “And I didn’t want to risk being turned away because of the dress code.”

“I'm glad though. You look handsome as always.”

After taking some photos on the balcony, you headed out to the restaurant. As you were about to leave, Dokyeom asked you to wait outside while he spoke with the concierge.

You were puzzled by the request, but when he returned, he explained that he had arranged for extra towels and soap to be delivered to your room. You didn’t think much of it and continued your way to the dinner venue.

The both of you indulged in a long-awaited culinary experience at Le Jules Verne, a restaurant you had been eager to visit ever since seeing it in Murder Mystery 2. Dining high above Paris with panoramic views of the city, the experience was as unforgettable as you had hoped. The sophisticated atmosphere and exquisite cuisine made it a perfect end to a delightful day — or so you thought.

Back at the hotel, Dokyeom asked you to close your eyes. He gently guided you into the room, covering your eyes with his hands.

“Close your eyes.”

“What are you up to? Don’t do anything silly; this dress is expensive!” you chided, knowing he might do something playful.

“Relax, I’m not doing anything stupid. Are they closed?”

“Yes, kyeom, they are. What’s going on?”

“Keep them closed. I’ll let go now.”

He removed his hands, and you heard him shuffling things around. “Okay, you can open them now.”

You slowly opened your eyes and took in the breathtaking scene before you. Rose petals were delicately scattered from the entrance of the hotel room, leading to a heart-shaped arrangement in the center, where Dokyeom stood, enveloped in a sea of petals. He held a bouquet of roses, their vibrant colors contrasting beautifully with the soft light of the room. Silver balloons floated on the windows, their reflective letters spelling out “Marry Me?” Your heart raced as you took in every detail, feeling a wave of emotion swell within you.

As you stepped further into the room, Dokyeom moved to stand within the heart of petals, his eyes full of love and nervous anticipation. He handed you the bouquet, his hands trembling slightly, then knelt down with a deep breath, pulling out a ring box. Your breath hitched as you saw the ring — its diamond gleamed with a brilliance that seemed to capture all the warmth and love in the room, shimmering with every flicker of light.

“Dokyeom…”

“Y/N, love, these five years with you have been the most incredible of my life. You’ve been my rock through every high and low, my constant when everything else was uncertain. I can’t imagine a future without you, and I want to continue building that future together. I want to create more memories with you, face every challenge side by side, and share every joy. My love for you is beyond words. Will you marry me?”

Tears welled up in your eyes, spilling over as you nodded, your voice choked with emotion. “Yes, of course I will. I love you so much.” You extended your left hand, and with a gentle, reverent touch, he slid the ring onto your finger. The moment felt suspended in time, the diamond’s brilliance reflecting your shared happiness and the promise of a future together.

“Okay, thank God, because my heart was pounding and my knees were killing me,” he joked, making you laugh as you admired the ring.

“I had it custom-made.”

“Really? It’s perfect,” you said, turning your hand to catch the light. The ring’s elegant design and intricate details made it feel even more special. “I love it.”

“Yeah. I thought you’d like it more this way. I had fun designing it and made sure to include all the details you love,” he said, as you admired the diamond sparkling in the moonlight.

“Thank you, Dokyeom. This has been absolutely amazing.” You looked at him and gave him a kiss.

“Let’s take some pictures!” you said, grabbing your camera.

That night, after posting some photos on Instagram, your phone buzzed incessantly with congratulations and likes. But you barely noticed, wrapped up in the comfort of late-night snacks and your favorite movies, nestled beside your new fiancé.

“By the way, how did you pull off that incredible surprise?” you asked, gazing at Dokyeom with curiosity.

“Well, the concierge is a secret weapon,” Dokyeom said with a mischievous grin. “They’re like fairy godparents for tonight. I think they were so charmed by the proposal that they didn’t charge me a thing. They said it was the sweetest thing they’d ever seen — except maybe the time a couple asked them to help with a proposal on a gondola in Venice. ”

You laughed softly, feeling a rush of warmth and affection. “I love you, Dokyeom,” you said, your voice soft as you gazed into his eyes.

“I love you too, Y/N,” he replied. He gently pressed a kiss to your forehead, a gesture that made your heart swell even more.

In that moment, surrounded by the soft glow of the room and the cozy comfort of each other’s presence, everything felt perfect.

You had always thought people exaggerated when they called Paris the city of love. But experiencing it firsthand, you couldn’t agree more.

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deanbrainrotwritings · 10 months ago

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— MY YOU

SUMMARY : part v of gimme half. the first valentine’s day with dean winchester and he is just absolutely adorable… for like the first half of this fic, the other half is filthy.

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : none

WARNINGS/TAGS : explicit(18+), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, squirting, unprotected p in v

WORD COUNT : 1.9k

A/N : jung kook song title. my you is why I have the #my dean ✨ tag ☺️ I don’t know if I named the cat before, but the cat's name is Mona-Lisa now and he’s a boy! oh and happy birthday @girls-alias💓

When you got home from work you didn’t expect to open the door to your cat, Mona-Lisa, frolicking in a path of colourful rose petals leading up to your bedroom. You smiled at the sight of him as you stepped out of your heels and shoved them into the corner with your foot—next to Dean’s boots—to put away later.

Mona-Lisa had a few red and pink petals stuck to his sharp teeth and some stuck to his soft, furry body, but he gladly accepted his fate when you picked him up in your arms. Dean was the culprit behind the romantic scene of your darkened home and it made you smile, your stomach jittery despite never really giving a damn about some stupid love holiday.

Mona-Lisa’s cute paws rested on your shoulders and his nose nuzzled into your hair before he decided to take a bite out of your shoulder when you continued to carry him up the steps. It was a soft and playful bite for the most part, and it made you laugh.

When you got to your bedroom, where you suspected Dean was waiting for you, Mona-Lisa sprung from your arms to get through the barely-opened door. Dean had his back to the door and a lighter in his hand that he used to light one of the many candles he’d placed in your bedroom.

“Wow, if there’s a fire, I’m suing you,” you teased with a grin, watching Dean turn around carefully to avoid stepping on Mona-Lisa—who was walking in circles around Dean’s feet with his tail up.

Dean smiled shyly, clearly caught off guard. “Hey,” he greeted you, placing the lighter next to the candle he just lit. You walked towards him and let him wrap his arms around you while his lips pressed to the corner of your mouth. “Happy Valentine’s Day?” He shrugged, sounding a little unsure of whether or not he was supposed to say that. “Should I have asked you to be my Valentine? I- uh, I’ve never done this before,” he laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.

You cupped his flushed cheeks and brought him down for a kiss that made his shoulders drop. Dean breathed softly against your lips and melted into you. His hands moved down to your hips and they flexed over the softness of your dress before he pulled you closer to him.

“I… I don’t think you need to ask,” you smiled, kissing him softly when he dove back in for more.

“Then… what do you think?” He chuckled, slowly sliding his hands down to your ass. He squeezed gently and you bit your lip, hesitantly looking away from his adorably flustered face to admire his work. “I’m not being cheap,” he began to explain himself, “I was just, uh- well, I didn’t know if you were the type to want to celebrate Valentine’s Day— not that there’s anything wrong with that— and I really just did this last minute for you. You know, in case you were into this t-”

“Dean,” you interrupted his rambling with a small giggle. He exhaled and forced a laugh to convince you that he was being cool. “I love it, and.. you look so cute standing right here like this, so stop overthinking it,” you reassured him, gripping his flannel to pull him down for a longer, deeper kiss to express your gratitude.

Dean’s hands moved lower to your thighs and you felt him bend his knees just as he titled his head, parting from your lips for a quick breath. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he lifted you in his arms, and your legs squeezed his hips.

You buried your fingers into his hair, moaning against his mouth. His hands moved along your back, over your legs, squeezing and kneading. He moved towards the bed, stopping momentarily when his knees hit the mattress.

He held you tight and lowered you onto the bed carefully, his lips hovering above yours. His green eyes travelled over your face and you averted your gaze as if it would stop him. Your hands slipped away from his hair, your legs fell open, and you turned your head to the side, relaxing despite the nervous thud of your heart.

Dean’s lips latched on to your neck, his stubble scraped over your soft skin. Your eyes fell shut and you shivered. Arousal began to warm up your body and dampen your underwear. Dean nipped at your skin, pressed hot, open-mouth kisses over the skin not covered by your dress, flicked his tongue over your skin.

“Where’d you get all this stuff?” You whispered, grabbing a handful of flower petals and candy from the bed before letting it fall back down. Dean slowly turned away from your chest with a playful laugh getting muffled against your skin.

“I stole those roses from Poppy, or whatever her name is, two houses down. And… those are the leftover chocolates from the Halloween bucket… and… well, I always have candles just in case,” he told you, nuzzling the side of his face into your breasts. You smirked at him, but then your eyes softened when he looked up at you, his thick lashes fluttering against his freckled cheeks.

“Hunting stuff?” You asked, sneaking your hands under his warm flannel to push it off his shoulders. Dean pushed himself off you to shrug the thick shirt off his body and you bit your lip. His t-shirt stretched tightly across his chest and his jeans did the same over his taught thighs. “Are you wearing cute Valentine’s Day lingerie underneath?” You teased, hooking your fingers on his belt loops to tug him closer between your legs.

“N-no? Should I?” He teased back, teasingly letting his fingers glide along the inside of your thighs.

“Next time,” you murmured, pulling his belt with a pout.

“Next time,” he breathed out a laugh, undoing his belt with one hand and lifting your dress up your thighs with the other. “Are you? Wearing pink lingerie underneath?” Dean hooked his fingers under the waistband of your underwear and waited for you to respond before tugging them down.

“No,” you grinned.

“Good, I would’ve ripped it off you anyway.” And he did just that, in one swift move, your underwear tore audibly, and he threw it over to the floor carelessly.

“Poppy’s going to kill you for damaging her roses,” you mumbled against his lips—which were stretched into a mischievous smile. Dean slowly pulled away with a few final pecks to your lips and started going down your body, his breath puffing over your glistening cunt.

“Only if she finds out it was me,” he hummed, his warm tongue licking up from your entrance to your clit. You gasped and pressed your head deeper into the mattress, your eyes squeezing shut and your hands gripping his hair.

Dean made you come twice, once with his thumb on your swollen clit and his tongue inside your pulsing walls, and a second time with his tongue on your clit and three of his fingers inside your used cunt.

You whined and whimpered his name as your body convulsed and your legs shook beside his head after each orgasm. Your body couldn’t handle much more, but Dean was persistent, encouraging and comforting you.

He paused momentarily as you caught your breath. Your head buzzed and your vision was blurry, your heart pounded in your ears, and your skin was flushed. Dean bunched your dress at your waist, your nipples were hard and sensitive from his mouth and his fingers, but goddamn, you wanted more.

You could feel Dean’s gentle fingers on your sloppy cunt, soothingly brushing his thumb around your overstimulated clit. His tongue lapped at yours and you could taste yourself in his mouth, his lips were glossed with your release, but you didn’t care.

You weakly held his taut biceps, your nails clawed at the hard muscles as they moved with every dip of his body into you. The cotton of his t-shirt brushed against your pebbled nipples causing you to shudder and moan into his skillful mouth.

“One more,” he murmured, sucking on your bottom lip before pushing three of his fingers back into your slick pussy. You inhaled sharply and scratched his arms when he knowingly curled his fingers into that same spot inside you over and over.

“Dammit… Dean,” you sobbed, your body tensing, head turning to the side. Your stomach fluttered with excitement despite the shake of your legs on either side of Dean’s hips and the quivering of your cunt. Dean breathed heavily above you, his chin tucked into his chest as he stared shamelessly between your legs.

He continued to thrust his fingers into you, shallowly and precise, driven by the pornographic sound of his fingers plunging into your wet heat and the breathy sounds of pleasure you made. Your hands twisting in his shirt and you cried from how sensitive you were, only partially amused because it felt so good all at once.

Your body was overflowed with so much happiness and pleasure that you completely let go as your third orgasmed seized your body. A moan of Dean’s name caught in your throat and all that left your kiss swollen lips was a strangled sound of bliss.

“Fuck,” Dean whispered against your jaw, his eyes fixed between your legs, “that’s right, sweetheart.” His teeth sank into your jawline and you felt him slide down between your legs. He used his tongue to lap up your release from your dripping pussy and kissed your thighs adoringly.

“I…” you exhaled, eyes opening slowly to look down at Dean between the wet mess between your legs. “Fuck, d-did I..?” You couldn’t finish the sentence as embarrassment burned at your cheeks, but Dean looked more than pleased with himself as he licked his fingers clean of your fluids.

“Yup, and it was hot,” he smirked, which magically made you feel slightly better about squirting. Dean pulled the dress from your waist, nearly yanking it down your weak legs to join your ruined underwear on the floor.

You sat up carefully, frowning at the wetness on the bed that Dean didn’t really care about. He pulled his shirt over his head and you imagined that you literally drooled at the sight of him and his flushed skin. It was covered in freckles and scars, and it always managed to look pretty and hot. You snapped out of your trance when he unbuttoned his jeans and started unzipping them.

“You said one more,” you complained with a laugh, watching him slip out of bed to remove his jeans and boxers properly. You changed your mind when you saw Dean’s cock, the way it throbbed and bounced as he climbed back into bed between your legs. The wet tip was glistening with smeared precum that continued to dribble out of the slit. “…But I’m glad you lied,” you grinned, pushing Dean onto his back when you kissed him.

“I didn’t lie…” he pouted, his dimples deepening above his lips. You tilted your head and gazed down at him with an expression of amusement on your face, your eyes glittering with internal laughter. “…I… just lost count ‘cause you’re so hot.”

Dean smoothly slipped out from underneath you and draped himself over your back. He kissed your shoulders and lifted your hips to position his cock at your soppy entrance. You moaned instantly when he pushed himself inside you, silky skin sinking easily into your wet cunt.

“Waffles for dinner?” He panted into your ear, the grin on his face seeping into his voice.

“Yup,” you moaned, reaching between your legs where Dean’s fingers were toying with your sensitive clit.

➥

taglist

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main masterlist

dean winchester masterlist

month of love 2024 masterlist

do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or republish my work on another platform

#dean winchester x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean x reader #dean x female!reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x female!reader

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thetriumphantpanda · 1 year ago

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masterpiece | marcus pike

Summary | Even surrounded by works of art, you're his favourite masterpiece.

Pairing | Marcus Pike x F!Reader

Warnings | A fair amount of art metaphors, Marcus being a smooth motherfucker but a smitten one, explicit smut, fingering, unprotected PiV, creampie, public sex (don't ask me why I write this man fucking in public so much), alcohol consumption, two Taylor Swift song lyric references if you look hard enough, no use of y/n. Reader is a blank slate physically but is described wearing a dress and is wearing red lipstick.

Word Count | 1.5k

Authors Note | Don't look at me. I saw this post. Immediately thought of Marcus and wrote this in less than 24 hours. As always, a huge thank you to @undercoverpena who continually inspires me to be creative and to write what I love. If you liked this, please consider reblogging or commenting, it is my life blood. This might be my favourite thing I have ever written, so enjoy.

Beautiful divider by @saradika

Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

The Mona Lisa. The Girl With The Pearl Earring. The Birth Of Venus. All of them masterpieces, but none of them could hold a candle to you this evening in his eyes.

Stood in the dimly lit room, draped in a dress of burgundy silk, the low-cut back showing off your spine, teasing what sat lower, the curve of your ass that he gets to cradle in his hands each evening, the glass of champagne held in your delicate fingers, fingers he knows so intimately these days, how they feel wrapped around that specific part of him. The light glints on the stones of your earrings, dropping delicately from your ears, swinging lightly, touching the skin of your neck that is traced by his mouth each night. And when you turn to him, meet his eyes across the room, and smile at him, he wishes he could paint you, immortalise you on canvas, hang you on a wall, display you, so that the rest of the world, for the rest of history, could understand just how priceless you were to him.

He doesn’t even really know why he’s here, much like he thinks when he does anything that doesn’t involved shutting the two of you away in his home or yours and forgetting anything else exists outside of those four walls. Letting you wrap yourself around him, tangled in sheets, with whispered sighs, his hands on your hips and thighs, caught up in nothing but each other and the way he doesn’t think he’s ever felt this way for anyone before, not his ex-wife, not his failed engagement, none of them. None of them made his heart skip like you do, none of them could set his skin on fire with the trace of their fingernails across his skin like you could, none of them would make him feel as good as you would. In the dead of night, your head pillowed on his shoulder, breath fanning across his skin, he realises he’s never loved until you.

When you turn, abandoning the conversation you’re having with God knows who, start walking towards him, parting the crowd like the Red Sea, your eyes focused on him and him alone, he finds that his breath catches in his throat, still not quite believing he is the apple of your eye, the man you search for in a crowd.

“You’re staring.”

“Your fault for looking like that.”

His hand snakes across silk and then the bare skin of your back, dipping to kiss the corner of your mouth so as to not smudge the clean line of red that your mouth is painted.

“See anything you want to buy?”

He smirks, “There’s only one piece of art here that I want, and it’s not for sale.”

You press up onto your tiptoes, mouth by his ear, “Would you hang me on your wall, Pike?”

Looking down at you, those doe eyes, long eyelashes fluttering at him, knowing exactly what you do to him, he bites his lip, “Maybe not hang baby,” He all but growls at you, “But pin you against it? Always.”

And then it all happens in a flurry. Hand around wrist, heels clicking against the floor as he pulls you from the crowd, out of one room, down a hallway and into the first room which door will open. It’s dark inside, save for the floor lights that illuminate the paintings. Normally, when you let him walk you around this particular gallery, all you’re focused on is the way his face lights when he talks, when he’s allowed, for once, to be unapologetically nerdy about something, but tonight, he’s not looking at the art, he’s looking at you.

Like predator after prey, he takes one step forward, as you take one back, slowly but surely backing you up under his gaze until your bare back hits a wall, cornered between two paintings, his palms on either side of your head, mouth dipping to yours, finding a finger pressed against his lips, one of your eyebrows raised, with a point to your own lips and that fucking lipstick that he knows he’ll smudge later if he’s got anything to say about it.

So instead, lips attach to neck, pressing, nipping, sucking sometimes as those fingers of his work the silk up from your ankles, up as high as he can be bothered to pull it before his hand is sinking underneath it, finding you bare.

“Filthy little minx.”

“Have you seen this dress?” You counter, “You would have seen the lines.”

He cuts you off, parting you with his fingers, sinking them lower, finding you slick to the touch, fingers sinking inside, pulling a gasp from you as your delicate hands circle his wrist, not as a warning, but as an encouragement, keeping him there, keeping his fingers inside you as they curl, search out that spot within you that makes you sing. And he finds it, because of course he does, watches as your knees buckle a little, held up only by his other hand on your waist, anchoring you right where he wants you as those fingers drag up, circling that bud of nerves so perfectly, your head tipped back against the wall.

“Go on, baby,” He encourages, fingers fast and precise against you, knowing exactly how to tear you apart, “Let go for me.”

So you do, legs shaking, his name like a chant on your lips, you come, hips chasing his hand as his movements slow, working you through it but not to the point of overstimulation. He looks you dead in the eye as he brings his fingers to his mouth, sucks the taste of you from his skin, leaning back into your mouth, an expectant look in your eyes that you’ve already told him about this.

“Tongue.”

It’s demanding, and it makes your cunt clench around nothing, so you stick it out, do as you’re told, hoping to earn the golden star from him, those two words that make you weaker than anything.

He leans in, traces his tongue against yours, letting you taste yourself on his mouth before giving you that reward.

“Good girl.”

Then his hands are snaking down, gripping your ass through the silk, lifting you gently to wrap your legs around his hips. His hands fumble with his trousers, moving them only enough to free his cock, your hands shifting your dress again, pulling it up to pool at your waist as the length of his slips trough your slick folds, before he’s buried inside you to the hilt in one movement.

There’s a moment of pause, where you look at each other, where you get used to the feel of him inside you, stretching you so perfectly like he always does, him getting used to the warmth of you, the way those walls of yours flutter around him. Then he’s moving, knowing this isn’t the place for him to take his time, hips rocking into yours, slamming your back into the wall as your arms lace around his shoulders, helping him to keep you held up, hands against your ass squeezing where he can.

“Careful of the paintings, agent.” You tease.

“You’re the only masterpiece I care about,” He breathes back, “Pinned to the wall like you should be.”

It’s quick and it’s sloppy, but its no less incredible as it is when he lays you down, pulls you apart with his mouth, then his fingers, then both, and then finally sinks into you, with your legs pressed back to your chest. Here, it’s different, the way his cock punches so deep inside you it takes your breath away, the way you claw at his shoulders, rock into him on his thrusts so you take him deeper. The way you’re surrounded by magnificence but only look at him, warmth in your eyes, nothing but love as he stutters with his movements a little.

“Gonna fill me up?” You ask, voice sickly sweet, “Leave yourself dripping down my thighs when we go back?”

Fuck, you’re filth personified when you talk like that, when you let him mark you, fuck you full of him and walk around with him dripping down your skin, no-one else any the wiser.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He growls into the shell of your ear, teeth nipping at your lobe, marginally missing the silver of your earrings.

“Please.”

It’s the first break in your facade, the way you beg like that and he knows its all over, always is when you beg for him, beg for him to fill you up. He doesn’t last much longer, hips pushing into yours a handful of times before you can feel the warmth spreading inside of you, a breathe of your name against the skin of your neck as he fills you, fucks you to the point that you’re already dripping him before he pulls himself from you, letting your dress drape back down your legs, feet planted on the floor, as he tucks himself back into his trousers.

Your palms smooth down your dress and as he twines his fingers with yours, leads you back into the main gallery, thighs coated in him, no-one would be any the wiser that he has indeed painted you as his own masterpiece right under their noses.

#Marcus pike #Marcus pike smut #Marcus pike x reader #Marcus pike x female reader #Marcus Pike x you #Marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike fluff #Marcus pike Fic #Marcus pike fanfic #Marcus pike fanfiction #the mentalist #the mentalist fic #the mentalist fanfic #the mentalist fanfiction #Pedro Pascal #Marcus Pike Pedro Pascal #Marcus Pike the mentalist

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silentglassbreak · 4 months ago

Note

I have a request for when you have time and only if you vibe with it haha

How about: Mona, somewhat tall, dark hair, light blue eyes, loves a tattoo when she can afford it, loves jewellery (fingers full of rings, chokers). She's been friends with the band for a while, can be a bit shy but fun and lovely to be around. She's gotten out of her first relationship a while ago, one where she never felt really appreciated or loved and the other person didn't really bother with her enjoyment during sex ever, so much that she wondered if sex just wasn't for her. But Noah, oh Noah, doesn't even need to do much but she feels hot and bothered. So what if Noah finds out and vows to provide her with an amazing experience, finding out she's actually quite kinky along the way. The kinks are up to you if you'd like I'll love it all haha. Maybe they're also in love with each other and just realising it now, maybe it's just a fwb situation, completely up to you, I can't wait to see what you'll come up with, your writing is amazing! 💜💜

Something light and easy, just for funsies. ☺️ After Writing Notes: This was fun. I enjoyed having something more lighthearted. Hopefully it is what you were hoping for.

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: smut, dirty talk, kink (nothing too wild), oral sex (both receiving)

Blackbird

"This had better be good if you're calling me at six in the morning..."

I rubbed my eyes, my deep frustrations seeping out in my words.

"It is!" I huffed, waiting for him to continue. "We're home!"

I raised an eyebrow. "I'd hope so. You've been on the road for like...three days?"

"Right, but we're home! And we want to go get breakfast!"

Still failing to see what any of that had to do with me, I tossed my arm over my face. "So...do that?"

"Okay, so you'll meet us there?"

"I beg your pardon?" I opened my eyes, knitting my eyebrows together.

"You'll meet us at Reggie's?"

I growled into the receiver. "You're out of your God damn mind if you think I'm getting out of bed anytime before ten, Nick."

"C'mon Mona! We talked about getting together as soon as we got home!"

"Uh, yeah, I figured that meant after you had taken some time to fucking recover!"

He giggled. "We're all caffeinated and hungry. Thought it would be a good time!"

"It's not."

"I'm buying!"

"I'd rather die."

"Too bad. Get dressed and meet us in an hour, please!"

Opening my mouth to protest, I felt the line go dead.

There were moments I truly regretted being friends with Nick Folio. He was a morning person.

Lifting my head off of the bed, I scrunched up my nose and pouted for a moment, gathering enough of my bearings to pull my legs off the side and stood up.

My arms reached over my head, my spine cracking and stretching. I walked over to the kitchen, pulled the refrigerator open and yanked the iced coffee from the shelf. Quickly, I mixed myself a beverage and drank half of it in three solid gulps.

Once the caffeine began burning it's way through me, I drug myself into the bathroom and stared at my reflection.

Well, it could be worse, right?

My icy blue eyes were only so puffy today, my hair freshly washed the night before. My shirt was clean as well, which was an improvement over the last couple of weeks.

I hadn't mentioned to any of the guys that I had been moping for the last two weeks straight. Sixteen days, more specifically.

Since Vinny decided he 'wasn't ready for a committed relationship'. Aside from being devastated, I also found it interesting given we had been dating for over a fucking year.

Fucking producers, man. Snakes - every last one.

I was blindsided by the breakup, and I had let myself feel it full force. My method was to be in pain, depressed, and disgusting for as long as it took for the heartbreak to fade away. If that meant not leaving the house, barely eating, and showering every three days, then so be it.

I did, however, know the boys would be home today, and had to prepare for that. My best friends for a good nine years now, I knew there was no getting out of seeing them as soon as they touched ground in California. I maybe expected a little more time to sleep in, but not much.

It was too early to care about appearances, so I brushed through my dark, chocolate-toned mess of hair and tossed it into a messy ponytail. I pulled my favorite band t-shirt over my head, a Bring Me shirt I got back at Warped Tour in 2012, and slipped into a pair of plain black leggings. My flip-flops would have to do, as I had no desire to hunt down two socks, let alone matching ones.

When I locked my front door, I winced at my nails. I had been biting and pulling at my cuticles for days without even realizing. I needed to get acrylics ASAP. I made a mental note to see if the nail salon had any openings after breakfast.

My deeply tinted sunglasses hid my eyes from the outside world. I hadn't bothered with any makeup this morning, not having the time nor the patience for it.

I hummed idly to my music as I drove the short ten minutes to Reggie's Diner, zoning out mostly. I pulled into the space in front, noticing none of their vehicles were there yet.

Of course.

Fucker wakes me up early, pulls me from the hole I had crawled into, and doesn't even show up on time. How predictable. I pulled a foot up onto the seat, balancing my chin on my knee while I waited.

The music streamed through my speakers, and the lyrics hit me in the chest.

"I guess this is goodbye. I guess we got what we deserved. Hold on to your heart, it's almost over."

"Ugh." I turned the volume down to zero, not wanting those kinds of emotions sinking in.

Before I could dwell too long, a loud, sharp knock came on my window, and I jumped nearly a foot in the air.

Standing in my driver's side window, Folio was pressing his forehead against the glass, making cross-eyed faces. I turned to the windshield, where Nicholas was lifting his shirt up to flash me. Jolly stood next to him, rubbing a palm over his friend's bare stomach, thrusting his hips like a complete moron. To my right, Noah stood at the opposing window, mouth pressed against the glass, puffing out his cheeks.

Tears nearly welled in my eyes at the absolute absurdity of these idiots. God, I fucking missed them.

I scanned the menu for no reason at all, already knowing exactly what I planned to order.

"French toast and an over easy egg, right?" Noah's elbow bumped me, his own menu open in front of him.

I pursed my lips. "No, I actually thought I'd get the waffles with bacon this time."

"Yeah?" He raised an eyebrow, and I cracked a smile.

"Nah, I'm getting French toast."

He snickered, nodding his head. "You always do."

"Yeah, well you always get raspberry lemonade so..."

"What's wrong with lemonade?!" He dropped his menu, eyes scanning me.

"Nothing." He huffed, narrowing his eyes. "Raspberry lemonade though?"

He opened his mouth to retort, but we were interrupted by the waiter. Each taking turns placing our orders, Noah went last, ordering a peach lemonade. I rolled my eyes, and folded my arms on the table, listening to them idly chat.

"I have a feeling that once I get food in me, I'm going to nap for at least eight hours." Jolly chuckled, fiddling with the salt shaker.

"Dude, me too. I think I'm just running on hopes and dreams right now." Nicholas added.

"How was the drive from New York?"

They all groaned in unison. "Fucking long." Folio commented.

"It felt like we were driving through Colorado for a fucking year." Noah tossed his head back.

I bumped him with my shoulder at his theatrics. "Your guys' bus is so bougie, it couldn't have been so bad."

"Once you've been in it for months like we have?" He raised an eyebrow at me. "I never want to see another tour bus again."

They all nodded together, affirming noises under their breaths.

"Don't you leave for the second leg of the tour in, like, eight weeks?"

There was a beat of silence before they all cackled. "Fuck, dude. Don't remind me!" Folio dropped his face in his hands.

Everyone fell into side conversations as we waited for our food. I was listening to Folio tell me about the people he had the opportunity to meet while they were traveling, but I felt my mind wandering, my eyes following, eventually settling on Noah.

Somehow, since I had last seen him three months ago, he managed to get even more muscular. His arms were bigger, and his hair was slightly longer than it was before he left. He had a fresh tattoo on the small patch of open skin on his upper arm, ink still vibrant. He was listening to Jolly, smiling at whatever he was telling him that was so entertaining.

"Mona?" It occurred to me that I missed what Folio was saying to me.

"Huh?" I looked back at him. "Repeat that?"

He smirked. "Space cadet?"

I rolled my eyes. "It's early." He mimicked me, rolling his eyes as well. "What did you ask?"

"I said, how's Vinny?"

My heart sunk, and the lump that I had just managed to swallow reformed in my throat. My face must have given something away, because the entire table fell silent.

"Oh, Vinny..." My stare fell down to my plate, pushing what was left of my French toast around. "He's fine."

Nick lowered his face so he could force me to meet his eyes.

"Everything okay?"

I nodded, biting my lip and trying like hell to smile. "Yeah, all good."

"That's not believable." Nicholas spoke up, pointing a finger at me. The glare I shot at him could’ve sliced right through his skin, had he not deflected with his own. “Care to explain?”

I set my fork down, folding my hands in my lap and folding my shoulders in. I could feel Noah leaning just a fraction closer to me, and my skin was warm where I felt his hoodie pressing against me.

“I don’t, actually. Thank you, though!” I tried to sound as chipper as possible, but it was falling on deaf ears. These morons knew me better than anyone.

“You guys fighting or something?” Jolly piped up between bites of hash.

I shook my head. “Nope.” Dismissive was not a skill I possessed.

“Do I need to fuck him up?” Folio did his best to look intimidating, and this made me cackle.

“No, Nick. No need.”

A bump to my arm made my eyes glance up at Noah, his face concerned. “What’s goin’ on, Mona?”

What was it about that fool that made me crumble like clay?

I sighed hard, leaning back in my chair, and averting my eyes to my plate, fingers now fiddling with my napkin. I could tell they were all looking at me, and it was a heavy feeling.

“Vinny broke it off.”

I don’t think I’ve seen four jaws fall at once before, but there’s a first for everything. I felt Noah tense up next to me, and it took all I had not to lean into him. He didn’t need to be fazed, it wasn’t a big deal…right?

“The fuck?!” Nicholas dropped his fork on his plate. “Why?”

I shrugged in response, pursing my lips. “Who knows.”

“Kicking his ass sounds pretty good, now.” Noah’s words were meant to be humorous, I’m sure. But his tone said otherwise, low and venomous.

When I chanced a look up at him, his eyes were narrowed into dangerous slits, focused on me. My hand gripped his arm, squeezing gently.

“It’s really no big deal, guys. Just wasn’t meant to be.”

“He didn’t give you a reason?” Folio sounded more concerned than angry.

I groaned, leaning my elbows on the table and rubbing my eyes. “Fuck, I guess? He said he wasn’t ready to commit or some bullshit.”

I heard at least two of them suck their teeth in disapproval.

“What horse shit. You guys were together a year.” Jolly wiped his mouth on his napkin.

“It was over a year.” I said, my voice small.

“Didn’t he ask you to move in with him like, three months ago?” Noah sounded like he was in disbelief.

“He did. I turned him down because I was afraid of something like this happening.”

“Mona?” My eyes fell on Folio, his hand now on my shoulder. “When did this happen?”

My face fell, then. I knew they weren’t going to like my answer.

“Like…” I took a breath. “Two and a half weeks ago?”

“What?!” Yep, about what I expected. “Mona! Why didn’t you tell me?” Nick was nearly out of his chair.

“Why would I?” I tried not to look at him, but I knew he was burning a hole in my face.

“Oh fuck, I don’t know.” He scrubbed a hand over his mouth. “Maybe because we’re your best friends!”

I rolled my eyes. “Who were on tour! You guys didn’t need my petty drama while you were working.”

Noah scoffed, turning his body toward me. “And we could’ve just brought you out to finish tour with us.” He glanced around the table, silent agreement from the other guys. “It’s not like we haven’t before.”

He had taken my hands, which felt so tiny in his huge grip. I couldn’t help but smile at him, and then at the rest of them.

“Guys, as amazing as you all are,” I pointedly looked at each of them. “I’m a big girl, and I don’t need my boys coming to my rescue over a little heartbreak.”

Noah’s fingers squeezed me, bringing my attention back to him. “We know that, but we like doing it. So next time, tell us, okay?”

I leaned my face into his chest, his arms circling me in a tight hug. I smiled, feeling safer than I had before they left. When he released me, I smiled at them.

“I love you guys.”

“Mona!” I turned, my keys in hand to unlock my car. Noah was jogging in my direction, the rest of the guys already in their own ride.

“What’s up?”

He stopped in front of me, looking almost like he was losing nerve the longer he stared at me. He tucked his hands in his sweater pocket, now smiling at me sheepishly.

“I just wanted to know, do you have plans today?”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “Uh, just going to get my nails done. Might grab some groceries later. That’s it, though.”

He nodded, kicking his shoe against the asphalt. “Okay, think you’d want to see a movie later?”

This wasn’t out of the ordinary. I had my designated activity that I typically did with each of the guys.

Jolly was a ‘go out to a fine dining restaurant’ type of guy, so he would take us out at least once a month to a new place, and we would spend the evening critiquing the food and atmosphere - as if either of us had any right. It was hilarious.

Nicholas, being the tattoo artist he was, loved the days I took the time to spend in the shop, helping him clean up and hang out. He had very little time to tattoo these days, and when he did, his books were full. I would sit with him, help him sketch, and bring food to the shop. He usually gave me little bangers here and there while we had time, and it helped my tattoo addiction, and my budget, tremendously.

Nick, unsurprisingly, was the nature freak. Luckily for him, I loved to fish. We’d hop on his bike when the weather was right, and head up to Big Bear a few times a year, or hit the piers for saltwater fishing. I never caught much, but he always told the other guys I did.

Noah, however, was a movie guy. Horror, sci-fi, comedy, didn’t matter. If it was in a theater, he wanted to see it. I was all for that. I had a serious affinity for popcorn, and loved to listen to him whisper to me during the movie, or bitch about it on the drive home. Maybe I enjoyed the occasions where I got chilly, and he let me wear his sweater? Or maybe I just liked being alone with him?

When I first met the boys, Noah had instantly stuck out differently than the rest of them. He was stunning, reserved, funny, and glowed like the sun. He had a smile that made my knees buckle and a hug that could swallow me whole. Voice of a siren and talent like none other.

Of course, I had an immediate crush on him.

Something about the way he spoke gave me such pause, my ears yearning to hear every word, hanging on them as they came out. The way he moved, gestured, breathed...it made my skin tingle.

However, when Noah and I met all those years ago, he had a girlfriend. It was disappointing - to say the least - but I respected it, and continued on as his best friend. I put the feelings to bed, and accepted the group of four misfits into my life without hesitation, arms open. Did the feelings eventually relax? Sure.

Something I appreciated about mine and Noah's situation was that I had the opportunity to get to know him better than I ever would have, had we entered into any kind of relationship. I saw him at his very best, but also at his lowest depths. I watched him free fall through his depression. Held his hand while he fought through the shadows within his own mind.

Noah, like myself, had a dark and violent past, so we were always closer. The guys constantly made comments about it, saying we were kindred spirits, begging to be together. It was all very Shakespeare, and we typically brushed it off. We laughed at their silly jokes...but over the years, there had been more than a few long and awkward stares between us.

He never told me he had feelings for me. The words never left his mouth. But did he walk with his arm around me sometimes? Hold my hand at the scariest parts of the movies? Bring me snacks and nap with me when I was sick?

Every. Time.

Until Vinny.

Once Vinny came into the picture, Noah had to take a step back. He had been single for three years - me for four. He had ample time to make some kind of move. He never did. So we sat in comfortable solace. And then Vinny came in, swept me up, and 'ran off with me', as Noah put it. He was upset, but would never admit it. Our movie dates stopped. Sick days were cancelled. And my shoulders were always so cold...

Over a year, Noah and I had been as platonic as brother and sister. It was painful at first, but I think we both got used to it. We hadn't seen a movie together in fifteen months...

"Mona?"

I was pulled from my thoughts and brought back to a very sheepish looking Noah, who looked as though he was about to tell me to forget it.

"Yes! Of course I'll go to the movies with you!" Maybe that came out a little too excited.

It was worth it, however, to see the way his face lit up. "Yeah?" He nodded, hiding his teeth in his smile. "Alright, cool."

I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to hide my own enthusiasm. "What're we going to see?"

"Tarot is out, have you heard of it?"

My eyes deadpanned at him. "Looked terrifying."

"Perfect!" He turned to walk away. "I'll look up showtimes?"

I shook my head. "Just pick me up at nine? We'll figure it out from there?"

This made him smirk. "You got it." He began walking back toward his brothers, and I turned to my car door. "Oh!"

I whipped back around.

"Do you need me to bring you a sweatshirt?"

I felt the warmth pool in my gut. Oh, the game was so on.

"Nah." I waved a hand at him. "Yours will do."

Was this a date? It wasn't. I was sure it wasn't. It couldn't have been. Not possible. We were best friends. I was reading into this.

Noah had seen me with strep throat. Bought me tampons. Held my hair back while I vomited. There was no way he had feelings for me. He probably viewed me as his gross younger sister. Or his weird cousin who stole his clothes a lot. There was no way.

But I still found myself dialing Nick, staring down at my two outfit options, chewing the skin of my lip to a pulp waiting for him to answer. It took three back-to-back calls before his groggy voice mumbled into the line.

"I'm sleeping."

I rolled my eyes. "I need your help."

"Mona, I'm tired."

"Yeah, well, I was tired at six this morning. Sucks to suck. I need your help." I was now actively pacing my bedroom.

"Ugh, hang on." I could hear him moving around, likely sitting up in bed. A loud groan came on the other end. Stretching. "Alright, whose dying?"

"Nick, I don't know if this is a date."

He spoke through a yawn. "Your thing with Noah? You guys used to always do that shit."

I scoffed. "That was before."

"Before...what?" I could hear the sound of a door opening, and then closing.

"Before," I took a second, but wasn't even certain of what I was thinking anymore. I growled. "just before!"

"Well, that makes a lot of sense, huh?"

I could hear his voice echoing, and then the sound of water running. Wait...not water...

"Are you pissing on the phone with me, you freak?!"

He chuckled at that, still sounding exhausted. "You wake me up? You deal with the consequences."

I made a noise of disgust. "Wash your hands before we finish this conversation."

I could hear the sink running, and then he picked the phone back up.

"I honestly don't get what you're freaking out about, dude."

"Of course you don't get it. You're a cool, nonchalant, unbothered dude! Whereas I'm over here thinking way too much into this and having an anxiety attack!"

"Alright, alright. Calm down." He huffed back down onto his bed. "Talk me through it."

"Okay." I took a deep breath, turning to look at my bed. "I don't know what to wear. Usually, during movie nights with Noah, I wear sweats and a baggy t-shirt. I like to be comfy in the theater, especially since he takes us to the ones with the...uh..." I snapped to think of the word. "recliners! The chairs that lean back? So do I just go with normal attire? Or, do I dress up nicer? Show him I'm interested in this being more than just a typical movie date? Show off a little? Will that give him the wrong impression? Will he think I'm trying too hard? But if I bum it out, will he think I'm a slob and have let myself go since the breakup? I don't know what to do. Don't even get me started on makeup."

"Holy fuck dude, you are freaking out."

My heart was racing at the rate my mouth was moving, but Folio's voice made me snap my jaw shut. I only talked that fast when I was losing my mind.

"Listen," He breathed loudly, likely sinking back down into his pillows. "I get why you're nervous. But this is Noah."

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. "I'm aware."

"So that means, the beauty about going on a date with him is that he knows you better than anyone. Even me. So you can be yourself."

"It's a date."

"No shit. Noah has been pining over you since the day you both met. Wouldn't shut up about going to the movies with you all day. It's a date."

All of the blood drained from my face. "Oh."

My heart had froze. Thinking it to myself was one thing, but to hear someone else say it...

"Don't start spiraling. This has been almost a decade in the making. It's going to go fine. Just be you. Wear your comfy clothes. No makeup. Hair loose. You're stupid cute like that."

I felt my cheeks heat up. "Nick, knock it off."

He snickered. "Listen, babe. I may not be the one in love with you, but I can appreciate a fox when I see one."

I almost dropped the phone as my stomach lurched. "You said what just now?!"

Realizing his error, Nick's voice jumped several octaves. "No! No no no! I didn't mean it like that! It's a figure of speech!"

I felt my chest tighten. "Oh fuck..."

"Nope. Mona, listen to me! I was just using the phrase to prove a point! He's not in love with you!"

"He's not?"

"No, I mean...he is...well, he's never..." I could feel the vein in my neck threatening to burst. "Shit."

I sat on my bed, wiping my now damp palms on my pant legs.

"Listen, don't listen to me. I'm half asleep and I smoked before I went to bed, so I'm still a little faded. Just..." He took a hard breath. "Just be you, Mona. Regardless of how deep he feels for you, I know he's excited to just hang with you. He's kept you at arms length for over a year, out of respect. Now that he's allowed to get close again," I could hear the smirk in his voice. "I'm not sure he'll let you get too far anymore."

Something about that calmed me. That's why I called Folio. Despite my near-stroke, he knew how to talk me off of pretty much any ledge that I found myself inching toward.

"Okay. So comfy clothes, hair down, no makeup?"

"Right. But wear your jewelry."

My eyebrow raised in curiosity. "Yeah?"

"You know those rings you wear? And the choker? He thinks they're sexy."

I waited impatiently at the bottom of the apartment building, fingers pulling at the long sleeves of my shirt. Although I fully intended to snitch his hoodie, it was still too brisk to go completely unprotected.

His truck pulled up at five till nine, right on time. I hopped into the passenger's side easily, and cherished the familiar smell of him. I missed it something awful.

"Hey!" I looked over at him. Clearly, he had the same idea as I did, wearing his joggers, plain black hoodie, and his hair still wet from a shower. He looked so clean...edible. My mouth watered at the idea.

"Hey!" He reached over to pull me into a half-hug, letting his hand linger on my arm. His eyes glanced over me, lingering maybe a second or two longer on my neck. My black 90s style choker sat tight on my skin. He ran his fingers down my arm to my hand, running his thumb over the stone of the ring on my index finger.

Thank you, Folio.

"Multiplex has a showtime in thirty minutes?"

I smiled brightly. "Perfect!"

The drive was short, and we were bounding into the building, arm in arm, same as always. "We're getting popcorn?"

He smirked. "And candy."

After obtaining our goodies, we made our way into the theater, finding our seats. Before he leaned his back, he shrugged out of his sweater, dropping it in my lap. I looked over at him, and he only threw a wink at me. I slipped it on easily, sinking deep into the fabric.

The movie was scary...but it wasn't great. The story was very over-done. Teenagers in a place they shouldn't be. Fucking with stuff they shouldn't be. End up cursed and killed one by one.

Sounds like Evil Dead, right? Nope.

Cabin In The Woods? Nope.

Talk To Me? Nope.

Tarot, ladies and gentlemen.

I would admit, the jump scares would get me. During the first one, where the priestess jumps at the girl in the attic, I physically jumped, which caused Noah to grab my hand, and physically pull me into his side. I hid my face under the sleeve of the sweater, only watching from the top of my field of vision. The next jump, I nearly scrambled into his lap. He laughed at me for that.

By the final jump scare, I wasn't watching the movie anymore. My legs were over his lap, and his hand was tracing up and down my back. My ear pressed to his chest, I could hear his heart beating fast. Although he continued to watch the movie, laughing at the deaths, and chewing popcorn, I could tell Noah was just as nervous as I.

During one particularly horrific scene where a girl was being sawed in half...alive...I had to turn my face away from the screen.

"It's alright, they're barely showing anything." He whispered into my hair.

"You know I have a thing about being cut up alive." It gave me the creeps. Nightmare-fuel.

He chuckled. "I'll tell you when you can look."

The moment lasted far too long, the girl’s screams ringing in my ears as my fingers clutched at his shirt. After the scene had flipped, I let my body relax.

"It's over, baby."

The word.

He never called me that.

Mona. Mo'. Babes. Darling. Lady. Rick (Don't ask).

But 'baby'?

Never. Not once.

I pulled my face away from the soft cotton of his shirt, and instead of looking at the screen, I stared at him. Face lit by the lights of the movie flashing, I could see his eyes staring back down at me.

I couldn't have imagined the energy change. The voices in the background faded into a dull blur, not interesting me enough to see anything but him.

His lips were shiny, as if he had licked them. Maybe it was the butter from the popcorn.

I didn't care, because in that moment, they were mine for the taking.

Without any forethought, I grabbed his face, and pressed my mouth to his, feeling how soft his lips were. God, I had been missing out.

His arms tightened around me, leaning down to press himself against my body. His tongue pressed into my mouth, and my eyes rolled back behind my lids. I breathed into him, letting him feel everything I had been holding back for almost a decade.

Oh wow. Noah. It was always Noah.

Something inside my soul woke up. Something in my brain sparked to life and roared like a once-dead battery recharged.

Noah was it. He was what I was missing.

When we finally disconnected, his eyes looked about as blown as mine, breathing heavily. I just let my lips crack in a smile, my hand catching in his hair and knitting into the loose strands.

Our beautiful, incredible moment, was interrupted suddenly by a bright light flashing directly in our eyes. We looked over at the source, seeing a worker stood, flashlight pointed at us.

"Guys," He walked closer, voice hushed. "I get this movie is rated R, but you've got to go somewhere else to do all of that."

I sunk back into my seat, and Noah did the same. We both blushed hard, looking at each other, and giggling in embarrassment. We finished the last of the forgettable film in our respective chairs, our fingers still interlaced on the arm rests.

"Your aim sucks." His finger picked up the M&M out of his lap, and I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Yours is no better, dork." I giggled as I popped one in my mouth.

The overlook of the city lights glittered beside us, below the hill we parked on. The hatch of Noah's Navigator popped open, we sat in the back across from each other.

Since leaving the theater, we hadn't had any physical contact. I'm almost certain we were both too nervous. I wasn't sure how to get that magic back, but going home and parting company sounded torturous, so I recommended we go back to our spot.

It was customary to park here, just up the road from his house, secluded and quiet. We usually sat and debriefed the film we had just watched, but that didn't take long. We both agreed it was too stereotypical, agreeing it was only a 4/10.

After that, I recommended we play twenty questions...to stall, of course.

"It's your turn, punk."

I rolled the candy around in my mouth, and pursed my lips. "Mkay." I thought for a moment. "How many girls did you sleep with on this last tour?"

I wasn't sure when the questions turned dirty, but he seemed unfazed by it.

"Two. But they were meh." He poised his hand to toss another chocolate, and I opened my mouth.

"Yeah? Not the best?"

The candy missed and struck my nose, which I caught in my hand when it fell.

"Pretty much."

I nodded, ignoring the pull I felt in my stomach. I had nothing to be bothered by, so I ignored it.

"Your turn."

"Mm," He tossed another candy, making it onto my tongue this time. "What's your favorite position?"

I chuckled. "That's so stupid."

"Why?"

"Because, how many are there?"

He leaned against the siding of the truck, putting a handful of M&Ms in his mouth. "Kama Sutra says there's over a hundred."

I shook my head, giggling. "Well, I don't really have a favorite."

He rolled his eyes. "Everyone has their favorite."

"What's yours then?"

"Nope." He held up a finger. "Not your turn."

I shrugged. "Fine." I mulled it over for a moment, looking out at the lights. "Probably cowgirl. I'm old-fashioned."

He eyed me, as if he was suspicious. "Hmm," Popping the last candy in his mouth, he crumpled the bag in his hand. "I don't believe you."

"Why not?"

"It's too boring."

I raised my eyebrows. "You think I'm boring?"

He laughed. "No, I'm saying I don't believe you are."

"Because...?"

He shrugged then, almost looking cautious. After a moment, he pulled his knees up, resting his arms on them and interlocking his fingers. "I overheard Vinny talking once. He said you were a real freak in bed."

Something about that made my spine straighten and my blood run cold.

"Did he now?" My eyes were glaring at him.

He didn't falter. "He did. And I almost knocked his teeth in, but I don't doubt it."

"Why is that?"

His lips turned up in a small smile. "I just have a feeling."

His tone was menacing, and something about it made me swallow hard. I was caught between feeling mortified and turned on. Noah was always so relaxed and collected. I had never seen him look so...hungry.

"And you?"

"Me, what?"

Matching his energy, I sat up and leaned back on my arms. "Are you kinky? Or vanilla?"

I could see his lips twitch, caught off guard by my flip of power. "Define kinky?"

"Well," I leaned forward, leaving very little space between our faces. "do you have any dark things you like to do in bed? Anything...taboo?"

I could see his eyes watching my mouth as it moved. "I don't know."

Letting my tongue trace over my bottom lip, I smirked. "No? You've never had the chance to do anything different?"

He raised an eyebrow, now looking confused. "I mean, I'm not into like...feet, or anything, if that's what you mean?"

My eyes widened, and I couldn't stop the harsh, blistering laugh that busted out of me, making me lean back. Tears fell from my eyes, and I almost choked in the process.

I heard him laugh too, kicking a leg at me. "Hey, sorry I'm so vanilla."

I continued to cackle like a hyena, but sat up, holding my ribcage. "I'm sorry. Jesus, that was hilarious."

He rolled his eyes, clearly uneasy about his answer, but his smile was so warm, I couldn't help but reach out and grab his hand.

"It's your turn."

He sucked his teeth. "I thought it was yours?"

I huffed out the last of my laughter. "Fuck, I lost track."

"Alright, I'll go." He sighed, face now turning serious. "Was Vinny good in bed?"

His tone wasn’t playful, but I was still recovering from my fit of giggles. "Fuck no."

His eyes popped open. "Seriously?"

I wiped at my tears, sniffling. "Not at all, dude. He thought doggy style was kinky. He also referred to my chest as 'voluptuous'. Nothing kills a mood faster, let me tell you."

Now he was laughing, and I tossed my water bottle at him in response.

"It's not funny! He was awful!"

"So why'd you stay over a year?" He asked through his laughter.

"Cause." That was all I was giving on that subject.

"Did he at least make you come?"

Shaking my head, I made a gross face. "No. I usually finished after he would leave."

"Ugh, that's sad."

I rolled my eyes. "You're telling me. Guy thought eating pussy meant making out with it..."

Noah stilled, his eyes getting dark. "What a shame. Some guys have no finesse."

I felt small under his eyes, suddenly needing to switch topics off of me.

"My turn."

He just nodded in response.

"I want to go back to this kink thing." He stretched his legs and linked his hands behind his head, waiting. "Do you like it rough?"

"To me? Or to someone else?"

"Either?"

He smiled. "Both."

"Biting?"

He thought for a second. "Only sometimes."

"Choking?"

He snickered. "Yes."

Feeling brave, I sat up on my knees, slipping the hoodie over my head, and continued my interrogation.

"Dirty talking?"

"Give me an example."

I inched toward him, crawling on my hands until I was hovering over his legs. "Do you like telling her she's a good girl?"

"I suppose." His hands fell to his sides, palms up. "If she's being one."

Cocking my head to the side, I brought a hand up to his knee. "And do you like it when she begs?"

I watched as the Adam's apple in his throat bobbed. "Yes."

Slowly, my hand trailed up his thigh. "And what if she calls you names?"

His eyes scanned my face. "Like what?"

I smirked. "There's a lot of options. Sir. Master." I let a finger trace where I knew his anime tattoo was. "Daddy?"

Visibly, his sweats jumped when I said it, making my eyes shoot up to him, a demonic smile crossing my face.

"That's the one, isn't it?"

Sitting up quickly, he got in my face, his voice deadly serious.

"You know, you've asked me seven questions now. I think it's my turn."

I leaned back, moving to sit on my ass again, now under his heated stare. I just nodded.

"How long have you been thinking about me?"

My voice caught in my throat, confused. "W-What?"

He moved closer, looming over me. "How long has it been since you started picturing us together?"

I could feel his breath on my face, which made it impossible to construct a lie.

"Years."

"Have you ever thought of me when you were touching yourself?"

Oh God.

"Yes."

"Did you ever picture me, when you were with Vinny?"

It was suddenly really fucking hot out here.

"Yes."

His teeth flashed at me, ravenous.

"Do you want me to do all those things to you, that he never could?"

"Jesus Christ, Noah." It came out only as a breath.

"That's not an answer."

"Yes."

"Do you want me to lay you down right here? And eat your pussy until you're falling apart? Until you can't fucking remember how to breathe?"

Insert cause of death here.

"Y-Yes."

"You sure?" His lips were level with my ear now, voice so dangerously quiet.

"Yes," Finding the last of my spunk, I tilted my lips up, and let my eyes fell on him. "Daddy."

Somehow, I hadn't noticed that he had pulled his keys from his pocket, and suddenly, the hatch was closing. I only had a chance to look at it for a split second before I was being pushed onto my back, my sweats being pulled down off my hips. I giggled at the sudden change of energy, knowing I had flipped a switch in Noah. He leaned over me, suffocating me with a warm kiss, pressing himself down on my body.

He lifted off of me just enough to look me in the eyes. "You sure?"

He repeated his previous question, but this time with a touch less heat behind it. He was looking for permission.

Always the gentleman.

I brought my hands to either side of his face, forcing him to look me in the eyes.

"Noah," I pressed a quick kiss to his lips, and smiled. "I've never wanted anyone more than I want you in this moment."

His cheeks warmed under my fingers, and he gave me the most terrifying smile I had ever seen.

His hand slipped down into my panties, fingers slipping lazily between my lips, and I wriggled, gripping his shirt.

"Oh." My voice stuttered, and he licked a stripe up the side of my neck.

"Don't worry, baby. I've got you." One finger circled around my clit, and I pressed my hips up for more contact. "You've got yourself so worked up already."

Breathing becoming more difficult, I let my eyes fall closed. His hand slipped away from me to pull my panties down to my thighs, and I felt his body weight move off of me.

I opened my eyes to see where he went, but almost fell unconscious at the sight of him perched between my legs, hands bracing my knees. Without warning, he lifted me, arching my back upwards to lift my core to his face.

His lips latched to my sweet spot, and my vision almost went white. "Fuck!" I screamed, but he just opened his eyes to look directly at me.

He flattened his tongue, pressing it to my pussy with long strokes, pulling moans out of me at a rhythmic pace. My hands scratched at the floor, trying to find anything to grab onto.

Finally settling on latching onto his arms, my nails dug into the back of his skin as he tormented me, face pressing further and further against my core. I let my fingernails rip down the skin on his forearms, panting and thrashing against him. He let out a deep, guttural grown in response.

"Noah, fucking hell. I'm going to come."

He pulled his face away, replacing it with his hand, pressing a finger inside me and pressing it into that spot that had me almost crying.

"Ask me nicely, baby."

"Noah, please. Please!" I was desperate to feel his mouth on me again, trying like hell to not buck too hard.

"Nope. You know what I need, pretty girl."

Confused, I wracked my melting brain for what he was looking for. His finger laid on a pressure that made stars fly in my field of view, making it hard to concentrate.

Until, I realized...

"Please, Daddy, I want to come. Please." I couldn't seem to get enough air into my lungs.

He smiled, looking inhuman. My head rolled back and forth, wild.

"Mm, no problem, baby." And he was back on me, the tip of his tongue drawing my climax closer. His finger still pressed into me, and I'm fairly certain a second slipped in at some point.

It was so much, it was so beautiful. I was going to actually explode.

"Ugh, Daddy. That's it. I need it. Fuck, please. Don't stop." At this point, I was just babbling. Whatever I could to ensure he didn't stop.

When his lips grabbed onto me, an impossible suction that had my head swirling, I felt the orgasm crash into me, a sharp scream escaping.

Carefully, he set me down, and his fingers slipped out. When I cracked my eyes open, I caught the slightest glimpse of him sucking them into his mouth. I had never seen anything so raunchy, and it made my muscles twitch, already wanting more.

He sat back against the hatch, chest rising heavily, and stared at me.

He was gauging, and I could tell. He wanted to ascertain whether I was about to regret what just happened.

He's insane if he thought I could ever regret that.

Noah looked wrecked. His sweats bulged violently, begging for relief. I sat up slowly, letting the blood flow come back to the rest of my body. Carefully, I sat up on all fours, and crawled toward him. He didn't say a word, just following me with his eyes.

"That was amazing." I smiled an appreciative grin, looking up at him through my lashes. "How could I ever show my gratitude?"

I could see he was stunned, so I took the initiative to reach for his pants, pulling them down in the front, letting his erection free to stare me in the face. Taking a few long seconds to appreciate it, I looked back up, eyes innocent.

"Would you like it if I choked on your cock, Daddy?"

His pupils were so dilated, I swore his eyes were completely black. He nodded slowly, reaching a hand up to run his thumb down my cheek, and hooking my chin, forcing my mouth open.

His other hand now grasping my hair, he pressed me down onto his dick, my mouth swallowing it down as far as I could before I felt my gag reflex hit. A harsh choke came out of me, and his hand loosened.

I just inhaled a breath and swallowed him down again, picking up a pace.

A long, sweet moan erupted from his chest, his head falling back as he watched me work.

"Jesus, Mona." His other hand gripped the side of my face, catching a tear rolling down my cheekbone. "So fucking beautiful."

I felt his cock hardening, knowing he wouldn't last long this way.

"You enjoy being obedient, don't you?"

I smiled around his cock, stopping to lick a long stripe down the length to his sack, catching some of the skin between my lips for a second.

"Ah, fuck." His mouth had fallen open, eyes rolling back. "Going to swallow my come, pretty girl? You're so fucking desperate for it."

His hand shoved me down onto his cock harder, pressing himself past my tonsils and straight into the back of my throat. I coughed harshly, but he didn't let up, head leaning back and eyes rolling with it.

"So close, baby. So fucking close."

With every ounce I had, I hollowed my cheeks and sucked him as if trying to drain his life force right out. His fingers tangled in my hair ripped at my scalp.

"Fuck, I'm-" But he was cut off by his own release, his chest tensing and hand holding me in place, head pressed firmly against my gag reflex, the come hot as it hit me. I relaxed, letting my muscles swallow it down without incident.

Noah's body slumped back, and his hand loosened. Fighting for breath, I leaned my face against his leg, just gathering my thoughts.

It took me a moment to notice he was running his fingers through my hair, smoothing the knots he had created. I hummed against him before sitting up, and letting my eyes search his face - exhausted.

He looked so pretty like this. His hair was sticking to his forehead from sweat, his veins in his neck slowly relaxing, and his arms loose and sprawled out.

He caught me staring, and raised an eyebrow. "What?"

I just smirked, shaking my head. "Nothin'."

After about thirty minutes of semi-awkward silence and cleaning up as best as we could in the back of a vehicle, Noah and I made our way back to his place. It was late, so we made every effort to be silent as we made our way up to his room. It wasn't until he was putting the key in the lock of his door that we heard the voice behind us.

"Use protection."

Folio's voice made us both freeze, and our eyes looked back to where his door was closing across the hall. An embarrassed smile flashed over my face, and he just chuckled quietly before pulling me into his room.

It was familiar. I had been here hundreds of times, so I made myself comfortable, dropping my bag on his computer desk and kicking my shoes off next to all of his pairs. When I turned around, Noah was sitting on the bed, hands on his knees, and a look I didn't recognize on his face.

Concern? No, fear? I wasn't sure.

"What's wrong?"

He was chewing on his bottom lip, and I walked over to him, slotting into the place between his legs. His eyes, so fucking big, so sparkly, stared up at me. They looked soft. Vulnerable.

"I like you, Mona."

It was a very regular statement. There wasn't a certain word or emphasis that made it special. But it was. Because now things had changed. Noah wasn't just Noah anymore. He was something different. And the words may have been ordinary, but they sounded as if they should've been spoken in a confessional.

It was warming, and they made me smile.

"I like you too, Noah."

His fingers came to grip my waist, squeezing me gently. "I've liked you a long time."

Nodding, I placed my hands on the tops of his shoulders. "Same."

He shrugged hard, looking up and down my being, working out what he wanted to say.

"I want you to be happy."

I was a little confused. "Okay?"

His fingers pressed in harder. "I want to make you happy."

Remember getting butterflies when you were little? When a rollercoaster dropped? Or a cute boy smiled at you?

"You do make me happy."

He moved his hands to grab my own, and held them between us. "I want to be with you, Mona."

It was silly, I'm sure, but I was fucking giddy. Internally I was kicking my feet and squealing like a mouse. Disgusting.

"Noah?" His eyes were fixed on me, so he just twitched his brow in response. "Are you saying..." I swallowed theatrically, feigning anxiety. "you want to go steady?"

The smile that flashed across his face was blinding, all thirty-two teeth flashing like a beacon. I giggled, unable to hold back after making such an idiotic joke. He just followed suit, pulling me into a hug, his face pressed into my chest.

My arms wrapped around his neck and I rested my cheek on the top of his head.

"You're so stupid." His voice came out muffled against my breasts.

My chest shook, now laughing harder. "You like me."

He pulled back, and his hand reached to pull me closer by the back of my neck, pressing his lips against me softly. When he pulled away, his words came out as the softest whisper.

"So much."

#bad omens #noah sebastian #fanfic #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian fic #bad omens cult

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isaut · 10 months ago

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𝒃𝒆𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒅— diluc x fem!reader. 2.1k. ao3

yours and diluc's love has captured the hearts of teyvat, thanks to the steambird and the kamera. in my head this takes place in another fic im working on so the reader only has one arm.

You marry in a simple gown of silk. There’s enough heft of the silk, as it spills around your arms and babbles down your body like a brook, spilling onto the floor, to show off its price. Your flowers drip from the bouquet in your hands– They drip, not droop. Cecilias and lilies, nothing more than an extension of your beauty.

Your ladyship, the official bits of it, are donned with a strong kiss. One where Diluc has his hand on your lower back and the other on the side of your face– the side that isn’t being photographed.

Three photos come from the wedding: One of you walking down the aisle: cobblestones lining outside the winery. Lined by simple flowers, a small party gathered to witness. Two, of the kiss. Swooped, leg slightly lifted, completely and contently at Diluc’s mercy. Three, of your head tossed back in laughter and Diluc’s warm gaze trained intently on you, a fond expression on his face.

It’s later that month when Mona presents you with the newspaper. She had, after all, advised you on when the perfect day to get married would be. All for a hefty price, of course. But if luck couldn’t be bought, you could certainly try. The front page, however, is something like a gossip magazine. MARRIED FOR THE STARS. Step into the whimsical wedding of the century.

And it’s those three photos. You hide your face behind the newspaper.

“You know, you should be pleased. People pay thousands of mora for a chance to be right there,” Mona titters, crossing her arms. “You could at least act grateful.”

“Oh, Mona… We didn’t need a cover page. We didn’t even need it to be broadcasted!” You protest, though there’s a girlish fluttering in your chest.

“It’s not like anyone else of such caliber is getting married,” Mona huffs. “You should be honored!”

Diluc is beet red when he sees the cover page. He hides himself behind his hands, fingers hiding under his fringe. “This is mortifying,” He bemoans.

“I say Donna crying,” Kaeya says, with a shit eating grin and he looks over the front page, turning to page three for the full article. “Just absolutely inconsolable.”

“Poor thing,” You hum, sufficiently less embarrassed since Diluc seemed to be embarrassed plenty for the both of you. “Maybe we should get it framed.”

“Hang it up in Angel’s Share,” Kaeya agrees. “Right next to the collection of best wine awards. What do you think, Diluc?”

“I don’t think it needs to be hung up,” Diluc says, muffled by his hands.

“I’m going to hang it up,” Kaeya says. “I’ll get a fresh copy from Mona, so you can hold onto this one. Has Adelinde seen it yet?”

“Yes,” Diluc says, still muffled.

“I think everyone’s seen it,” You chime in, grinning as you reach over to tuck a strand of Diluc’s hair behind his ear. His face is certainly warm.

It’s to no surprise that the weddings that follow for the next few years are inspired by the nation of love. That there’s thousands of attempts to grab the same photos, but none of them have the same candidness to that first kiss you shared with Diluc as husband and wife. None of the dresses have the same water-like texture, none of the flowers are fresh in the same way.

It could be said for money. But the wind was a perfect whisper, rippling through your gown and your hair, keeping Diluc’s hair out of his face. Rumor was that the Anemo Archon favored the Ragnvindr’s love so greatly he made a personal appearance.

When you’re invited to Fontaine– When Diluc is invited to Fontaine for a wine festival, he grumbles about it. About the journey, about how he has to leave home for months on end. Even though you’re coming with him, he still grumbles. He’s fond of his manor, he’s fond of the way that you’ve bled into every aspect of it. Brightening it with light colors and gauzy curtains, fresh-scented candles.

He grumbles less, because you’re so excited to go. You’ve listened to your tailor speak for hours about how beautiful the land of water is, about how the art is so rich and the food richer. You’ve listened to nearly every ballet and every opera on the gramophone. And your tailor has treated you so well, to fashions typical and atypical of the nation.

(His business had boomed too, after the wedding dress. However, he saved his best work for the Ragnvindrs. He’d be lying if he wasn’t hoping to make another splash in his hometown.)

Fontaine treats the Ragnvindrs kindly. They have first class tours, with nearly everything included. A villa instead of a hotel room. Nightly escapades to the finest shows Fontaine has to offer. For your first journey to the Opera, you’re buzzing with excitement.

The gown that’s been made for you in warm blue, with shimmers and hugs your figure. It’s a far cry from the simple dresses you wear back home: modest and breathable. With this one, you wrap a shawl around your shoulders and stand in front of the mirror, doing last minute adjustments.

Diluc is too filled with energy to sit still for so long, focused on just one thing. He hides it well, and age has slowed him down considerably from when he was nothing but a young firecracker. He’s just gotten better at hiding it. At least, he’ll do it for you. He comes up behind you, resting a hand on your hip. The accents on his suit complement your dress, his hair pulled back in a bow of the same fabric.

He leans forward to press a kiss to the top of your shoulder, hand sliding to rest securely over your stomach. His other trails down your arm to hold your hand, gently adjusting your engagement ring, which glints in the lamplight.

“Do everything with this hand,” Diluc says, hunched over so his cheek can rest on your shoulder, facing towards your neck. Here, he has perfect access to the scent of your perfume.

“I don’t think anyone is mistaking me as single,” You reply. Not when the lovable oaf of your husband is draped over you. Not when he stands so close to you the two of you might as well wear the same concoction of perfume and cologne.

Diluc hums and straightens up.

“Well. Let me escort you, my lady,” Diluc says, giving a slight bow.

You respond with a beaming smile and a small curtsey.

Diluc captures your lips in a kiss, pulling away with furrowed brows.

“What’s wrong?” You ask.

“You’re just too beautiful,” Diluc replies.

This time, the newspaper comes much faster. You’re on page three, under a fashion column. MONDSTAT’S PRINCE CHARMING AND CINDERELLA. The article speaks of how such patrons of the arts were so much more patrons of each other, madly in love by gaze alone.

You’re whisked away to the gala: the actual event you’ve come for. The finest gown is for that night: off the shoulder with large sleeves, tailored and glittering, beaded details accentuated by the diamonds around your neck. There’s a frown on Diluc’s face as he gets ready, does up his buttons and does up his tie.

When prompted on what soured his mood, he simply replies: “I don’t want to socialize.”

You laugh, tinkling bells through the room.

“What?” Diluc asks. “They like you so much more than they like me.”

“Oh, but you’re the one they want to talk to,” You say, coming over to him. You smooth your hand over his lapel. “I think they just like looking at me.”

“They should talk to you instead,” Diluc replies. “You’re so much more interesting than I am.”

“And share me with the world?” You tilt your head.

“Oh, good point.” Diluc slides his hand back around your waist. The dress truly is something to marvel. Such a marriage of Fontaine’s couture and Mondstadt's simplicity. Diluc’s gaze can’t leave your waist, can’t leave your chest. “Good point.”

The Steambird gets a quip from you that night, a bright eyed, pink haired girl with a camera approaches you and Diluc, begging for a photo. She has many questions, and expresses such to you, but will only ask you for one. And to forgive her because it’s not wine related. (“Good,” Diluc had said, mostly to himself and you, “I’ve spoken enough about wine.” Charlotte had beamed at that.)

“Everyone’s been calling you Teyvat’s true fairytale,” She says, recording device poised. “Do you have any advice for those of us trying to find our own fairytale?”

You laugh, and look up at Diluc, placing a hand on his chest. In turn, his hand sits dutifully at your lower back. He looks down at you, a fond expression on his face.

“I don’t think there’s a script to it,” You say, tearing your gaze away from Diluc. “I think it just happens.”

“You can’t be looking for it,” Diluc adds on, his gaze never leaving you.

RECIPE FOR A FAIRYTALE

A Mondstadt love story is not unheard of. If anything, it has permeated our childhoods, with so many famous tales coming from the land of romance. Growing up, these tales of princes and princesses, who find true love after a fearsome trial of strength, bravery and wit seem so out of reach, as if they linger as stories painted in constellations. Gorgeous to gaze at, charming to consume, delightful to dream about.

There must be something in the Mondstadt air, whether it be the scent of windwheel asters or the Anemo Archon’s own blessing, given that Teyvat’s own fairytale hails from the tranquil nation. That Ragnvindrs won the hearts of Teyvat when they got married. Sources at the time revealed photos of the event, two lovers intertwined in their own world, speckled by the sunlight filtering through the translucent clouds in the sky. Their vows promised a lifetime of never-ending love, and their kiss was sealed with a warm brush of wind.

Their love has not run dry. Tonight, at the Festin de Boire, Diluc Ragnvindr and his lady, Ophelia, continue their tour of Fontaine. Dressed by Fontaine’s own Herbert Agustin, the two are fit for on-stage royalty. Diluc’s suit is finely tailored, a warm, dark brown that highlights his cabernet eyes and acts as logs on a hearth for his flaming mane. Tonight, it’s tamed by a ribbon the same shade as his wife’s gown. A stunning, off the shoulder champagne piece with sleeves that billow out and come together around the wrist, embroidered by pearls. Tonally, it matches the bubbling drinks in their hands. It would be remiss to not discuss the stunning set of diamonds that sprawled across her collarbone in long droplets.

The banquet attendees are just as smitten with the Ragnvindrs as I am. Witnessing the attentiveness of Diluc and the grace of Ophelia, it’s hard to not raise my own crumbling standards when it comes to a partner. Not once did I see his hand leave her waist, lower back or cheek for longer than a few breaths.

When I spoke with them for a brief moment, it was like gazing into a snowglobe, where a prince and princess stand, eternally in love. Accentuated by the quartet playing, the two of them struggled to pull their gazes away from each other. Truth be told, the two looked so stunning up close, I struggled to pull my own gaze away.

I asked our lovers the question on all of our minds, one that circulates my own to no end. Do they have any advice on how we can find our own fairytale?

Ophelia rested her hand on his broad chest, a smile on her face. Diluc’s hand curved around her waist, resting on the bottom of her bodice before the dress expanded into its fullness. It is easy to imagine them back at their winery, standing in their garden in the same position. The same love painted on their faces, only with crystal flies circling about them instead of servers carrying plates of hor d'oeuvres and glasses of wines.

“I don’t think there’s a script to it,” Ophelia told me, though her words floated up in the direction of her husband. She further confirmed: “I think it just happens.”

Diluc, who had told me he was glad for the opportunity to discuss matters other than wine (and, if I must make my own conclusions, was euphoric to discuss his wife), added the big secret: “You can’t be looking for it.”

To think that such a cherished romance simply fell into their laps is almost astonishing. To see such a fairytale, to learn that it came without slaying any dragons, that it fell like an autumn leaf or a ripe bulle fruit… It is the thing of dreams. And perhaps a reminder that the best things in life come to us when we aren’t looking.

#diluc x reader #by ophelia #kiss kiss

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shakirawastaken · 1 year ago

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dsmp if... they were spiderman

i love spiderman just like every other bitch out there

dream: - do not be surprised if he comes out one day and claims hes a demigod and superhero and a wizard - cause if its anybody its this guy fr - if he was spiderman he wouldnt have the main and basic color scheme - hed go green like everything - green is the main color like the evermore green and black/white as the accent colors - his string also wouldnt be normal spider string i feel like itd be neon ish like miguels from the movie - he would also avoid telling you that he was spiderman till the very last moment - he would wanna keep you safe the best he can - would nEVER swing by your house - but he keeps an eye out on you when he knows ur out and about walking - but when you eventually figure it out? boy oh boy - cornering you in the street and pushing you into an alleyway - spiderman poses in front of you, hanging from his web - gives you upside down kisses???? sign me tf up - hed also get himself just the right amount involved in the crime he fought - he knows how to balance his life out, and he knows how important it is to be able to balance his life out like that - hot as spiderman sapnap: - a reckless spiderman - leans vigilante - out of all of them he would be the one with the suit closest to the spiderman - but im not feeling the blue - marroon and black or some other brighter color - a rash spiderman - fights crime like no business, but kinda makes a mess along the way - its okay bc the people love him - loves loves LOVES arguing with cops - tells you almost immediately after becoming spiderman bc he has to tell someone - breaks every canon event - trash talks every criminal out there - but is nice to every citizen he sees - likes webshooting your wrist to the counter or something so you cant leave or go out or smth - forces you to spend time with him :) - likes to keep out of interacting with people as spiderman - but will use it as argument bait in day to day life - makes a hammock out of webs and lays there between two buildings - overall 7/10 spiderman

george: - is barely spiderman but when he is hes darn good at it - he leaves a lot of the petty crime to the cops - only goes out for the big stuff - dark navy blue suit with black accents - stays in the shadows/on top of buildings - doesnt interact with anyone if he can help it - the more secretive he can keep the better - he told you a fair amount of time after he went out as everyones crime fighting superhero - but he doesnt like to talk about being spiderman - and youre fine with that, as long as he stays safe - he swings to your window every night after hes done being spiderman - hed rather be with you than someone else after the hard night hes probably had - has a habit opening your window without knowing and jumpscaring you accidentally LMFAO

karl: - oh he LOVES BEING SPIDERMAN - hes the spiderman to be on every cereal box and phone cover and talk show - loves taking pictures especially with little children in their own spiderman costumes - after he captures and ties up every criminal he leaves a little goofy aah note for the cops to laugh at - unlike sapnap he has a great rep w the cops - he told you after he “test” ran it - actually he just showed up with the mask on and you were like “SPIDERMAN OMG LET ME CAL MY BF” - and then spidermans phone was ringing and you were like - “what” - “im spiderman!” - “WHAT” - his suits like - i feel like it changes color in the sun - its one of those suits - and hes the only one out of all to have an assistant ai thing in his suit to lead him through crime - he might be a more light hearted spiderman but he still deals with the same dangerous crime

quackity: - this guy loves to swing - he will put his headphones on and jump off the nearest building - mona lisa by dominic fike - soars to the ground and then swings up at the last moment - swings to the beat of the music to relax - he has the normal suit i think - but he has his hair comin out of the suit like pavitr - loves to take you swinging - even if you may find it terrifying - he likes the feeling of sharing with you his favorite activity - fights crime like no ones business - he told you like a few months after being spiderman - he just jumped down from the ceiling - “? what” - “spiderman!” - “...what” - yeah - idk all i can think of is that quackity likes to swing around the city just for the heck of it - “WOAH ITS SPIDERMAN” “YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA”

wilbur: - has a black suit like miles - tommy is his guy in the chair LMFAO - in his ear like “SWING LEFT I MEAN RIGHT I MEAN LEFT” - mutes tommy half the time - leaves you little messages in web on the walls of the house - “love you!” but its in spider web - actively holds a conversation with the people hes fighting - “so hows your day?” *PUNCH* “hows ur kid doing?” *OBLITERATES* - uses physics and shit to his advantage cause hes not that built - another one whos hot as spiderman - never EVER brings you out as spiderman - EVER - will bring tommy tho - cause tommy annoys him into doing - “BIG UPS WILBUR!!” “SHH TOMMY” - is spidermans biggest fan even though hes spiderman - “they will never suspect spidermans biggest fan as spiderman!” - smart ngl

guys all i can think about is spiderman its a dilemma an issue a problem sorry for the short headcanons i had to get my thoughts out of the way!

#dream x reader #dreamwastaken x reader #wilbur soot x reader #georgenotfound x reader #sapnap x reader #karl jacobs x reader #quackity x reader #dsmp x reader #wilbur x reader #mcyt x reader #shakira shakira writes #dsmp if... series

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cuppajoel · 2 months ago

Text

Stock Rotation | One for the Road

Pairing: young!Joel Miller x f!oc

Chapter Summary: Already late for work, your day doesn't get much better when your boss tells you he has to sell the bar. Being the fix-it person for the establishment, you try to put your best foot forward in meeting the potential new owners.

Chapter Warnings: language, set in a bar, light flirtation that could have sexual connotation, awkward encounter(s), female oc has a name but referred to mostly as 'you' no physical descriptions given, f!oc is able bodied, pet names- read at your own discretion!

WC: 5.9k

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

A/N: This is pretty much all exposition. I had a lot of fun and hope you enjoy! Pls like/ reblog if you do.

Series masterlist

The harsh crunch from your clutch made your jaw tighten as you shifted too quickly into third gear. Everything this morning sang with that grinding, metal on metal sound. 9:28am. “Late. Late. Late. Late.”

In reality, you’re not late. Officially, the schedule says you start around midday, Marty definitely hasn’t opened up yet, and it’s the second Monday of the month, stock day, meaning that there’ll be no customers until 5pm. You are not late. But on Mona time? You are late.

The rest of the roster of Dusky’s Bar actively avoid this shift like the plague. Volunteering to switch Friday or Saturday closes just to shake the stock rotation loose. Lucky for them, you create the schedule, meaning this very shift that you are driving to means hours and hours of uninterrupted restoration of order back to the bar after a busy holiday weekend. Organising the back? Deep cleaning the shelves? Stock rotation? Bliss.

You swipe on your blinker, checking left, right, left again before pulling up into the next street, parking just outside the bar with the unlit open sign. Parked parallel on the other side of the road was a beat-up blue pick-up. To the untrained eye, it looked exactly like the other hundred pick-ups that could be found within a square mile of this place, but with the head of silver hair, clubman sunglasses and full greying moustache it could only belong to Marty.

The greying man clicked his tongue, glanced down at his watch and shook his head. “And what time d’ya call this, sweet thing? Had me worried sick over here.” He took off his glasses, tucking one of the legs over the neck of his shirt and looked up at you with a glitter in his eye.

“The first time in 4 years you get here before me and you start getting cocky, Marty? I thought better of you.” You fall into stride next to one another.

“I dunno, got excited about using my set for a change.” He jingled his keys in your face, stepping slightly ahead of you to begin unlocking the door.

“Here before 10 and you brought your keys? You feelin’ okay, Mart?” You pressed the back of your hand to his forehead, fiening concern.

Marty rolled his eyes in your direction, his trademark, close-lipped smirk where it should be as he opened the door, stepping to the side to let you ahead of him. Stepping through, you automatically turned your attention to the small beeping box hanging on the wall to your left. You punched in the code, before pushing through the hinged barn doors which opened to ‘Dusky’s’.

You and Marty fell into a rhythm which felt like coming home to your own bed after vacation. Marty picked up the mail, shuffling through the various sized envelopes, fliers, and magazines before setting it on the table of the booth nearest the bar. You found yourself around the other side of the great mahogany coloured counter, opening the small cabinet to your right and flicking on the switches one after another as well as the espresso machine which was sitting beside it.

Slowly but surely, the whole place was illuminated. Rich reds, blues, and greens of the various neon signs let in a comforting buzz of sound as the lights underneath the hundreds of bottles of liquor brought a warmth to the building which was still waking up. Above you, four hanging pendant lights with a rounded glass shade illuminated-the fifth unlit. You huff. “I got someone coming in today, for that.” Marty mused, not looking in your direction but rather fiddling with the jukebox to the left of the bar.

“I got a new bulb in at the weekend, you should let me try it first- save them the trip.” You reply, starting to prepare the first of many coffees that you’ll have today. The first of which is with Marty, always with Marty. The man didn’t return acknowledge your plan for the faulty light, too busy flipping through the pages of the jukebox picking just the right song to start the day off.

You finish off your task of seeking caffeination by steaming the milk for both your coffees and adding the tiniest sprinkle of chocolate flakes to the top of each. It wasn’t until you found yourself alone in the booth that you realised that Mart still hadn’t picked the song of the morning. “Hey, old man it’s gettin cold ova here… ” you say taking your first sip and mocking is faded Jersey accent.

“I’m comin’ babydoll…” he said, playing it up just for you. At that, he clicked the select button to solidify his choice. He pulled his reading glasses off the end of his nose before nestling them gently into his slicked back hair, making the short walk back over to the booth and slipping into the side opposite you.

There is freedom within There is freedom without Try to catch the deluge in a paper cup There's a battle ahead Many battles are lost But you'll never see the end of the road While you're travelling with me

You sat, steam rising from the coffee cup in front of you as you shuffled through todays mail. “What’s this? 80s? A rogue choice, Martin. Why do I feel a sense of looming?” You joked, your eyes peeking up at him as he looked right back at you that glitter dulled slightly. “Cassie said the close last night went well. It was meant to be her and Craig but he switched with Maria so that she could pull the double. Which obviously means the close was beautiful…” your hands continued shuffling through the plump stack of paper as you began sorting through it subconsciously: bill, bill, trash, postcard from an old regular who moved to Florida a few months back, that will join the rest of ‘em behind the bar, bill.

Now I'm towing my car There's a hole in the roof My possessions are causing me suspicion But there's no proof In the paper today Tales of war and of waste But you turn right over to the TV page

“I think the brewery order should be coming in about 12:30 so it gives me a couple of hours to run the lines through and flush ‘em out and get the empty kegs outta the back door… We also are getting two extra kegs of Miller because there was a bad one in the last order but I sorted it with Gerry…”

“We’ve gotta meeting at 12:30.”

“Hmm?” Your hands slowed their shuffling but eyes remained on the task you’d undertaken.

“You and I have a meeting at 12:30.”

“Is this for the new staff? I’m sure that they’re coming in tomorrow, lunchtime so that they can get a scope of the place during the day?” You furl your brow at him in trying to recall the specifics of the interview you set up as you took another sip of coffee.

Now I'm walking again To the beat of a drum And I'm counting the steps to the door of your heart Only shadows ahead Barely clearing the roof Get to know the feeling of liberation and release

“Mona...” Your attention snapped directly to the man in front of you, your actual full name only ever crossing his lips a handful of times in the five years you’ve known him. “There’s two guys coming in today about the bar… Chelle got the call from her sister about her ‘Ma… we’re havin’ to go up…”

You shook your head, eyes narrowing as you looked to the man in front of you. “That’s a little dramatic, don’t ya think? I can handle the bar for the 8 weeks your back up in Jersey… Don’t you remember how beautiful everything was when you came back off your honeymoon and I got everything revarnished?” You tilted your head and gave him one of your warm closed-mouth smiles- the ones that were always mirrored back to you.

“No Mone, it’s not for the 8 weeks anymore… it’s done… the Parkinson’s made it so her Mom needs round the clock care and Chelle needs to be there…I gotta be there.” He lets go of a breath that he has been holding since he’d set foot in the door as you begin to hold yours. You start chewing on the inside of your bottom lip, trying so desperately to swallow the news but it won’t go down. Your eyes drop his gaze and you tilt your head back, trying to keep the tears that have whelled in your eyes from actually falling- from this actually happening. You knew that Marty wouldn’t have this place forever, but you didn’t think this would happen now.

Two soft, warm hands come up to cradle your cheeks, gently guiding your face back down so that your eyes meet. “I need you here Mone… This place needs you here…” he says, catching the slow stream of silent tears and swiping them with his thumbs. “That’s why we have the meeting. Nothin’ is gonna happen until we… me and you are certain that these guys understand what this place needs…”

“Marty…” you say softly, the lump in your throat burning, your eyes exploding with the million things that you want to say but can’t get out.

“My darlin’, this place does not run without you…” his gaze softens more somehow. “If I could, I’d sign it all over to ya today but I gotta buy a house… I gotta haul my ass all the way back to Jersey… and you…” he drops one of his hands to lay on top of yours on the table “you are not spending a dime of those savings on this old-man bar…”

You try hard to take in the words that he’s saying. In in ideal world, you could take this opportunity to be dramatic; to refuse the less than ideal situation that this man had offered you and leave kicking, screaming and tearing every goddamn picture frame down as you went. But this isn’t an ideal world. You don’t get to be the dramatic and entitled barmaid. The truth was that Marty was a big part of what made this place special, but the work you’d put in, the relationships and friendships you’d formed with regulars, staff, and breweries made it what it was. You also had people relying on you. You don’t get to quit and say fuck the consequences.

“Today is the first in-person meeting… my lawyers have been talking to theirs about money and land and blah, blah, blah… Nothing is set. We need to have a good feelin’ about ‘em and they need to understand that this place will crumble without you…” his other hand joins his first, holding onto yours on the table and squeezing to pull your focus.

Hey now, hey now Don’t dream it’s over

You blink again, causing a fresh stream of tears to fall and for two to drop onto the table that separates you both. This is actually happening. You inhale through your nose, allowing your chest to inflate before pushing a sharp puff of air through your lips. “What are their names?” You say, allowing the news to finally pass through you.

“Miller.” Was the reply, Marty picking up his coffee with one hand.

You dipped your chin in acknowledgment, picking up the stack of discarded mail to finish your previous job. “I know I don’t gotta tell you, but I’d appreciate if no one else on the roster knew… not until we got it set in stone. People spook real easy when change happens.” You huffed out of amusement, sniffed the remaining tears away and picked up your coffee cup. “They gotta be real fucking spooky to scare me off.”

By 12 the news of the possible new ownership had transformed to a firefly in your mind. When you were busy, focused, it was resting on a branch flickering softly on and off. When you paused, thinking about what you had to do next, it took off, buzzing from one corner to another, hot and purposeful flashes of danger and anxiety for what could be. Everytime you swatted it away with another stock day task. The glasses must’ve thought you had a vendetta against them by the way that they were scrubbed, put through the glass wash, and scrubbed again.

Now, your attention was on the fifth, unworking, pendant hanging just above your head. You flicked the switch on and off a couple of times to see if that could fix it but of course it didn’t. You switched the lights off, not willing to electricute yourself and meet your new possible bosses in one day, and brought the small step stool, and replacement bulb behind the bar. The stool gave you the small boost that you needed to be brought nose to nose with your nemesis of the hour. You knelt on your haunches atop the bar, set the small cardboard box containing the new bulb just to the right of you and began to unscrew the old bulb. It was one of those rustic-looking ones where you could see the filament inside of it and to your untrained eye, it looked like that could be the source of your problem. You twisted and twisted until it came loose setting it to your left on the rubber bar liner and picking up its replacement, reversing the movements you’d just made. As you made small, circular movements between your pointer finger and thumb, you had to gently close one eye in order to pull your focus to the task at hand- the last thing you needed was hundreds of tiny shards of glass all over your bar.

“Hi… excuse me…”

Your gaze dipped quickly to someone just past the threshold of the swinging barn doors.

“I’m so sorry, we aren’t actually open yet my love…” your voice strained slightly as you were two turns away for securing the bulb. “It’s stock rotation day so we open at 5.”

“I gotta call from Marty…” the deep, southern voice trying to make themselves seem softer.

Your eyebrows pulled together at the bulb, giving it one miniscule nudge to the left so as not to over tighten it before finally allowing yourself to look at the person still standing in the doorway. Your eyes met his instantly and although the light had been dimmed slightly, due to your handiwork, all that you could see that was they were deep and dark but with a softness that put you at ease.

“Oh shit… about the light? I’m hoping that I might have it fixed but you could maybe give me a hand?” Although phrased as a question, you tilted your head to the side and gave small sweet smile that didn’t leave room for negotiation. “Would you mind coming behind the bar and flicking on the switches behind that panel that is next to the coffee machine? I just wanna see if changing the bulb worked.”

The man in the doorway paused for a moment. Although the dim light streaming through the shutters didn’t give you much, you could tell that he was looking right at you. “I… uh… sure.” The man followed the natural layout of the bar floor, walking alongside the empty booths before curving around the bar front to get to the opening at the side. You could see him better now. He wore dark jeans that fit nicely at the waist, a charcoal-grey tee over which was a dark green brushed cotton shirt- the sleeves folded in on themselves to rest just below his elbow. He had soft, trimmed stubble which framed the lower half of his face which bled slightly onto his thick neck. You rested your hands on your thighs, your head tracking him as he stopped himself just in front of the coffee machine.

“Yeah just-”

“This it?” he reached in to the wall just behind the coffee machine, his eyes, actually a dark, burnt-honey colour now that you see them closer and they creased at the sides, showing his age a little.

“Uh-huh, thank you” you smiled at him again, this time smaller and this time reciprocated by him- small, closed mouth smile that started with his eyes and ended with a dip of his chin.

Click click click click

Click

“A-ha! I got you baby!” you rubbed your hands excitedly as the fifth bulb turned on right infront of you, pausing a moment to admire your handy work. “Well at least we got that right today, huh? I swear that coulda been the cause of my demise if that didn’t work.” you babbled on to no one as you put the old bulb in the new bulb’s box. “Thank you for the assistance…” you paused for him to say his name, you back still to him.

“Joel.”

“Joel.” You repeated. “I appreciate it. I’m sorry if you had to make a long trip out here…” you started, looking back behind you to work out how to safely yourself down from the bar when you spot a large, outstretched hand waiting for yours. You glance, over your shoulder, up into the eyes of Joel. They were soft but his expression was still, as if offering his hand was a reflex. Your eyebrows draw together softly in surprise as you take the hand without a second thought untucking one leg from beneath you, and then the other, you left hand holding you steady as you brought yourself back to solid ground.

You were closer to him now, showing the clear height difference between you both. You dropped the hand which returned you to safety- the one which completely enveloped your own. “Aren’t you a gentleman?” you teased but your smile and soft nod nothing but appreciative. You both stood still for a moment, a look of bashfulness crossing his cheeks. “Can I get you a coffee or somethin’?…From the coffee machine…” you breathed out a small chuckle as you pointed quickly to the machine, now behind Joel- not wanting to insinuate anything.

From around the corner you could hear a faint whistle of Marty as he strolled from the back office into view. “Ahhhh Joel!” He said in that classic Marty way; warm and inviting like you were his best friend. Marty changed his pace to a light jog as Joel slipped from just beside you,the two men meeting in the middle just around the front of the bar with an outstretched hand each. “Nice to properly meet you buddy.”

“Yeah, you too. I’m sorry if I’m a bit early…” he started his other hand coming up to pat Marty’s arm, reinforcing the handshake.

“No, no don’t be sorry… I’m used to it with this one.” He joked giving you a soft wink. You decided to pick up a rag and spray to go over where you’d knelt on the bar moments ago but wanting to keep an ear on this conversation, not fully understanding what was happening. “You two get properly introduced?” Marty asked you both as he dropped Joel’s hand and pulled out a bar stool for himself and gestured to the one next to it for Joel.

“Yeah we-“

“No.”

You and Joel spoke at the same time, your eyes snapping to one another as you let out a small, embarrassed chuckle and he let his tongue dampen his bottom lip.

“I was gonna say that we got so far as names but-“

“Didn’t manage to catch yours…” he shook his head slightly, letting his lips purse, before settling on a soft, slightly crooked smile.

“Well Joel, this is Mona…” he said taking a seat on the worn stool. “Bar manager, events coordinator, handyman, administrator, one-time line cook… anything else I missed baby doll?” His eyes resumed glittering in the normal way.

“Apart from ‘the light of your life’ and ‘your reason for getting up in the morning’? Nah you’re good.” You returned his smirk.

“And Mona, this is Joel Miller, one half of our scheduled meeting today.” Marty concluded the introduction with a short nod, his lips in a tight smile and his eyes saying ‘This is him’.

Before taking a seat on the stool next to Marty, Joel extended his hand to you again. “Ahhhh…” your eyes went wide but you caught yourself before your eyebrows flew to your hairline. You met his hand with yours from across the bar- the size difference almost laughable as his hand dwarfed yours. You ensured to soften your gaze as your eyes met the ones that you’d looked up into multiple times over the past twenty minutes. “It’s nice to meet you Joel. I’m excited to hopefully get to work with you.” You said genuinely. That firefly that was once buzzing about the walls of your mind had slowed, its light reliable, steady.

“Likewise.” He responded, taking the stool next to Marty. “I’m hopin’ that my brother shouldn’t be too far behind me here…” he said, lifting his left wrist to look at the time.

“Well I can get started on some coffees?” You asked the men at the bar in front of you which was met with a resounding ‘yes’. Marty opened up the binder he had brought through for the meeting, pulled his reading glasses from his head, placed them on the end of his nose and started talking Joel through the permits and licences that the place had.

If he was honest with himself, the idea to invest in this bar had nothing to do with him. Really it was all Tommy. “I promise you Joel, this is a really good place. Nothin’ sleezy or seedy about it. I met the owner a few times when I used to go there a few years ago and he’s a real nice guy. And really, it’s running a bar, how hard can it be?”

Over the past few years Joel and Tommy had managed to create and develop their own, legit, construction company. After years of working odd jobs and working for other, bigger, contracting firms they used their combined knowledge and contacts to go in it for themselves. They now had a team of 20 guys working under them. Joel found it strange at first; not having to jump at every job that came his way, finding himself spending more and more time within the onsite offices and taking phone calls. It also meant that he found more time to spend with his daughter, Sarah. With their company doing well, it helped Tommy too. He became more reliable, less hot-headed.

You set the coffees down in front of the men. A sprinkling of chocolate on each and Joel looked up at you with soft eyes. From when he set foot in this place, he felt like you belonged here. You had confidence but not arrogance, knowing exactly how everything worked and where it should be. Only being here for a short while, he could sense that you were the reason for that comfortable feeling he had already. Your back was still turned, making your own coffee as the unmistakable noise of squeaking hinges came from the barn doors. “Hey, sorry I didn’t realise I was late.” A similar drawl came from the man crossing the floor to meet the others at the bar.

“Not late at all, we’re just doing intros so you’re right on time.” Marty reassured the other Miller brother. “Mona…” he called your name and you flipped the rag over your shoulder before facing them again.

“Tommy?” your eyes screwed up slightly, almost as if you were squinting to get a better look at the face that you quickly found familiar. Your eyes darted across the features of the younger Miller, not quite clicking with what was happening. Is hair was longer than the last time you’d saw him, curling now and tucked behind his ears. Similar to his brother, his eyes were dark, an espresso colour and his smile was warm and deliberate.

“Mona… What’re you…?”

“What are you doing, Miller?” you flashed him one of your own warm smiles.

“You two know each other?” Joel was trying his hardest to read between the smiles , his eyes darting back and forth between you both. Sure, he got a smile from you, but not the same one as Tommy got.

“Yeah, I mean…”

“It’s been a long time…”

“Three years?”

“That long?” you huffed out a chuckle.

Joel was following the dialogue like the it was the last shot at the final of a tennis game. He wasn’t sure who he wanted to win.

“Mona and I met at Christopher’s wedding a couple of years ago and then she broke my heart…” Tommy left room for your expected rebuttal.

“Well, in all fairness Tom, getting thrown outta bar on our fourth date for punching a guy wasn’t really what I was looking for in a husband.” You grabbed ahold of one of the draft taps, rocking slightly where you stood, perhaps to sooth yourself from this unexpected blast from the past. Tommy’s hand slapped his chest to cover his heart as if he was just shot and you both falling into a soft giggle.

The word ‘date’ hung in the air heavier than you’d liked it. The softness that you’d seen in Joel’s eyes had shifted a little to become more serious and neutral. He didn’t know why, but he didn’t like that word- especially in relation to you and his once hot-mess of a brother.

“Let’s shift this to the booth, easier for the paperwork.” Marty said, wanting to get this going.

“Coffee, T?” you looked up. Joel wasn’t sure he liked that nickname on your lips. Was it the kinda nickname that said ‘Mona acts this way with everyone so you shouldn’t read into it’ or was it ‘I’ve seen Tommy naked’? Either way, it made him clench his jaw a little.

“A water would be great, thank you.” Tommy called over as he slid himself into the booth closest to the bar. You grabbed your own coffee in one hand and a bottled water in the other, making your way around the bar to the booth to slide in next to Marty, across from Joel who up close, seemed bigger somehow. His arms were out in front of him, hands clasped on the table and it seemed like his eyes tracked you.

“So, thanks fellas for meeting here today. I thought before anything else happened between the lawyers that you guys should come and get a feel for the place and get to know Mona a little better…” Marty started, your eyes were on Joel, searching for where that warmness had gone, his eyes fallen to the man on your right. “I think what’s most important for me is that you understand the value of Mona and how she is an asset to the bar and how she’ll be an asset to you both…” You could feel your cheeks heating slightly. You bumped your arm against Marty’s as a small sign of affection. “What I think would be a good thing for you folks to see is the way that this place operates on a Friday night…”

“With all due respect, Marty, I think Joel and I know what a bar on a Friday night looks like…” Tommy interrupted gently.

“I get that.” Marty says with a small chuckle. “What I mean is that you both should come and see it from Mona’s perspective… behind the bar. The reality is, boys, is that owning a bar is not all free beer and schmoozing. Sometimes you gotta get behind the bar yourself… clean the barf from the urinals for example…”

“You’re really selling it to ‘em Mart” your eyes shift cautiously between the two brothers before looking down at the coffee mug in front of you.

“So, what would we be doin’, exactly?” Joel asks, Marty gives you a small nudge, indicating that Joel is asking you. Your eyes flash up, his already on you.

“Well, there’s no ‘exactly’ to it…” you shrug “I’d probably get you both to shadow me for the evenin’ pour beer, change a few kegs, serve food, talk to the regulars, help me kick ‘em out at closin’ time.”

“Sounds reasonable.” the older miller responded with one slow dip of his chin.

“Yeah, how hard could it be?” Tommy said, flashing you one of his signature grins that went all the way up to his eyes.

“Ooooooo-hoooo, just you wait, Tommy-boy.” You narrow your eyes at Tommy. The cocky smile on your face bouncing back at him as you track over to the other brother, your smile shifting a little to match his softer one.

“I send out the schedule on Monday’s. I’d have one of you do Friday night and one of you do Saturday. Any preference?” Your eyes bounces between the brothers

“I’d probably do Saturday night, just cause Sarah and I are up early on the Saturday mornin…” Sarah. Married? Girlfriend? You crease your brow.

“Means I’m all yours on Friday night Mone. It’s a date.” Tommy had that glint in his eye again. Joel was used to his brother and the way he couldn’t help but flirt with anything with a pulse. What he hadn’t seen too often was the fact that Tommy’s charm really bounced off you. You looked like it amused you, sure, but you weren’t giggling and falling over what he was saying. You were holding your own.

“In your dreams, Miller.” you backhanded Tommy’s banter right back to him, Joel let out a soundless chuckle.

“I’ll send Mona your guys’ numbers and she can send you the details.” Marty began “I think this way you can get an idea if the bar for ya’… then we can get into the logistics.” There was a resounding ‘sure’ across the table as Marty stood, you straight after, and the four of you exited the booth. Joel extended his hand to Marty, Tommy doing the same as tight-lipped smiles were exchanged.

“It was nice to meet you…” you placed a hand on Joel’s shoulder to get his attention before extending your right hand to him. “Thanks again for helpin’ with the light…” you let your tongue poke through your lips, wetting the bottom one. Joel’s eyes went there immediately before snapping back up, realising what he was doing, giving you a “mmm” and shaking his head in response.

“It was good to meet you too, Mona.” his hand squeezed yours just once whilst shaking it softly, just slightly but enough to feel like his comment was genuine, the Texan accent dripping off every vowel.

“It was great to see you again, Mone…” Tommy’s voice snapped both you and Joel out of your handshake as you replaced the gentle touch you had on Joel’s upper arm to a firm pat on Tommy’s shoulder.

“I did not think you’d be walking into the bar today, Tommy…” you knit your brow in disbelief. “Please don’t make me throw you outta this bar on your first shift…” you joked.

The brothers shifted through the barn doors again. You waited to hear the external door click shut before turning on your heel to Marty who looked at you with a coy smile. You knew something was coming from him so you stood waiting for it.

“You know Tommy, huh?”

“I do not know Tommy, old man.” You rolled your eyes and walked past him, rounded the bar until you were safely in your right place behind it. You opened up the small dishwasher that sat undercounter, the steam rising and hitting you square in the face. “It was a couple of dates. We maybe kissed once? But he was a hot-head back then. He knocked a guy out who tried to buy me a drink…” you shook your head, opening the dishwasher to let the glasses cool off. “I liked them, they seem like good guys…” you mused, Marty now sitting on the stool that Joel was at not 30 minutes before.

“Yeah? Just gotta see if they survive the weekend.” Marty looked down at his binder again through his glasses which were perched on the end of his nose.

Joel pulled up on the site just after his younger brother, the longer haired man already out of his pick-up that had ‘Miller Construction’ plastered on the side and walking towards his car. As he got out to meet Tommy he shook his head as they walked in the direction of the site office.“What?” Tommy said. The look on his brothers face was one solely reserved from older siblings to younger when they’ve done something wrong.

“Is it possible to go anywhere in this town without meeting someone that you’ve hooked up with?” Joel ascended the three steel steps of the cab before opening the door to the makeshift office. His voice had a little more bite in it than he intended but he didn’t want this whole deal to be an excuse for is brother to get a leg over.

“I did not hook up with Mona, believe me…” Tommy followed his brother into the small room, pulling the door shut behind him. The brothers took to their desks at opposite sides of the room. It may have seemed stupid to those who didn’t know the business but the brothers had different areas to work on. Joel was the contracts guy, talking to external companies, sourcing materials and budgets. Tommy was the onsite guy, dealing with the labourers directly, making sure they were hitting their deadlines. “We went out a couple of times, I was an ass… I knocked a guy out for hitting on her in front of me… Thought I was being a gentleman- she didn’t see it that way.”

Joel huffed slightly, the word ‘gentleman’ ringing in his ears- something you called him earlier that day. “Tommy we need this to stay business…”Joel said taking his keys and phone out of his jeans pockets and sitting them on the desk next to his laptop which he pushed open.

“I know…” Tommy mirrored the actions of his brother from his own desk. “Even if I wanted to, you only get one chance with someone like Mona…”

Joel instantly found himself in amongst a sea of emails from supplies managers before soft the buzz of his phone against his desk pulled him out.

Mona: Hey, J- it’s Mona. Just to confirm that you will be taking the Saturday closing shift with me. Be at the bar for around 3pm. The uniform, of course, is white hotpants, tan tights, knee-high socks, and a bright orange shirt that shows off your wonderful chest but we’ll get you sorted here on Saturday. 😜

Joel’s smile was instant, creeping over his lips and tingling up through his cheeks. You were funny and he couldn’t deny the little ripple felt in his chest at the nickname that you’d given to Tommy that he now got to wear. He couldn’t help it, he was typing and sending a message before he could stop himself.

Joel: Hi. I’ll be there. Is a fresh wax required? 🤔

The typing bubbles from you were already there before he could put his phone down.

Mona: Yes it is. We also only have XS or XXS tights left. That’s okay, right? 😉

Tommy’s head rose at the second buzz of Joel’s phone, Joel’s attention already on the text. “That from Mona?” he asked, his own phone in his hand receiving a text from you about the schedule.

Joel: I’m an XL. Joel: See you Saturday. 🙂

“Yeah, it is.” he glanced up at his brother before locking his phone and placing it face down on the desk, the next wave of emails rolling in.

#fic!onefortheroad #fic!oftr #joel miller #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!oc #joel miller au #the last of us fanfic #the last of us hbo #tlou #tlou fandom #joel tlou #tommy miller #tommy miller fanfic #tommy miller x you

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violetrainbow412-blog · 1 year ago

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Day 11: meet cute

Masterlist flufftober 🎀

A special one, I really enjoyed writing it. Reblog if you liked it!

Spencer walked through the gallery in silence, paying attention to all the paintings and trying to give them his own interpretation. For some strange reason, being in those places relaxed him greatly and right now it was what he needed most: a well-deserved respite after a long day of work.

“Good night,” he greeted a young woman, who was attentively looking at a painting.

The woman he saw couldn't have been more than thirty years old and her clothing was... how to put it? Something eccentric. All the clothes were vibrant tones and she wore a woven bag with uneven parts, who knows if it was on purpose or not.

“Good night,” you murmured just as kindly, keeping your hands in the pockets of your colorful jacket.

The painting in front of you was, in short, something grotesque. But it wasn't in a bad way, it had a certain special touch that made it… Spencer couldn't even describe it. It was very good, but to some extent uncomfortable to look at. Almost like a ritualistic crime scene that he was so used to: beautiful, but at the same time terrifying.

"Do you like it?"

“Huh?” the man asked, fearing he had misheard the girl next to him. She nodded toward the exhibit and her brain filled in the blanks. “The painting? Yes, I think it's very good. I'm afraid I'm not a great connoisseur of artistic currents, but from a very point of view this could be part of The Black Paintings, Francisco de Goya's collection”

“I know them,” you said happily. “My favorite is that one about Saturn devouring his son. You know, the one where they're eating a…” you started to say, making signs with your hands that he understood immediately.

“I think art is very subjective, like everything in the world. Some people may consider the Mona Lisa a masterpiece and others may appreciate more the style of Van Gogh or the cubism of Picasso and they are all right. Each person enjoys art things that reflect the content of their soul and I think that is the beautiful thing about paintings, don't you think?

“You know a lot for someone who is not knowledgeable about art” you smiled, feeling captivated by the way the stranger next to you expressed himself.

“Actually I say that I am not a connoisseur because I don’t want to offend those who are. I've only read a couple of books on the subject and... well, I love coming to museums, but that's all”

“Honestly, I think it's very ugly,” you said suddenly, turning your head slightly to observe the painting “It looks a little strange on the bottom, whoever did it should improve their technique a little.”

Spencer felt strange hearing such a cruel comment coming from a person who seemed to be sweet, but he figured you would have your reasons for holding that opinion. He considered leaving there but his attempt was interrupted by another presence, this time a man dressed in an elegant suit who approached you.

“Miss Y/L/N” he greeted you cordially, while you shook his hand “I see you came to appreciate our exhibition, do you like the light we put there? Does it help the colors of the work or do you want us to change it to a warmer one?”

“Oh, don't worry Frank. I like that one, it makes it look gloomy” you answered nonchalantly “You just should put it somewhere else, I'm not very proud of this one in particular”

"What are you talking about? Many people liked it. Isn't it good, gentleman?” he asked, turning to Spencer who was watching the two of them curiously.

“It's beautiful,” he confessed. He actually thought that, he wasn't saying it out of commitment or anything, and his response made you smile sheepishly.

"Stop. Everything is perfect here, thank you for giving it a home in your gallery”

“And there will be more spaces in the future, think about it,” the man murmured, squeezing your shoulder warmly and friendly. “Have a good night, excuse me.”

“Goodbye, Frank.”

The two of you watched the man walk down the hallway until he got lost in a turn and then the agent turned his attention to you.

“So you're an artist?”

“I try that” you laughed. He took a look at you and then at the picture in front of you, as if he had a hard time believing that you were the creator, of course due to the difference in styles that both elements had “But I like that people don't know, so I can hear honest opinions. And I appreciate yours, you are very kind.”

"I only say what I see"

“Would it be very bold of me if I asked you to be my model one day?” you asked cautiously, hoping not to scare him with your request.

"A model?"

“I really like your jaw,” you exclaimed, pointing a finger in the air at the line you were talking about. “And the way your hair falls. They are nice to paint”

“Well, I…I would be flattered,” Spencer said, not knowing how to react to what you had just said. Something like that had never been suggested to him and he felt strange, but excited at the same time.

“Do you want to write me your number?”

“I can give you my card,” he stammered, digging in his briefcase so he could give you the piece of paper. When he extended it to you, you analyzed it with curiosity.

“Dr. Spencer Reid. FBI” you read, quite impressed “So we both got a surprise today, huh?”

"Definitely"

“I'll call you,” you promised, pocketing the card warily and rewarding him with one of yours. They were simpler with hand-painted details and with fewer titles, but it would be useful for him to contact you “And who knows, maybe the next time you come it will be you who is in the gallery.”

Spencer blushed at the thought and smiled at you, wondering how possible that was. You responded to the smile with pleasure, because unintentionally you had just found the one who would permanently become your muse.

taglist: @navs-bhat @reidwritings @tricia-shifting14 @spencerslove @vivian-555 @r-3dlips @rhiannonhippiegirl @taygrls @simp4f1 @sdddoobydoobydoo @taintedstranger

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid x you #flufftober 2023 #prompt list #writing challenge #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid drabble

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dragonflylady77 · 10 months ago

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i got you a whole flower shop

A Harringrove Valentine's Day fic I wrote this afternoon

present for @shieldofiron and also @lovebillyhargrove

oh and it's on ao3

Steve walks into a florist shop on Valentine's Day but his plans change after he gets a text not meant for him and he finds himself faced with Billy freaking Hargrove looking like every wet dream Steve has ever had in the past fifteen years since he finished high school.

“Sorry, I’ll be right with you.”

Steve made a vague noise of acknowledgement, too busy staring at the message he’d opened as he’d stepped into the first flower shop he’d spotted.

“Can’t wait to see you tonight baby. I’ll tell Steve I have to work late. Love you x”

He blinked a few times but the words didn’t change. The text was clearly not meant for him. Or maybe it was, he rationalised. That was one way to break up with your boyfriend without having to have the conversation.

He ran a tired hand over his face and put his phone back in his pocket. He wouldn’t need flowers after all. He tried to remember how much stuff he’d left at Jamie’s place during the few months they’d been dating and wondered if there was anything he’d miss if he didn’t get it back.

“I am sorry but it turns out I don’t actually need flowers after all,” he said, his eyes floating over the various buckets of colourful blooms in front of him.

“Am I dreaming or is that you, Harrington?” The voice sounded surprised and familiar and Steve turned around to face its owner.

“Hargrove?” Steve said in shock, stepping closer to the counter. He hadn’t seen Billy Hargrove since graduation fifteen years ago. “What are you doing in Chicago? I always thought you went back to Cali…”

Billy shrugged and Steve took a moment to really look at him. He still had those light brown, almost golden, curls that Steve had always wanted to run his fingers through, piled high in a bun, his face fuzzy with scruff, blue eyes trained on Steve. That part at least was familiar. Steve let his eyes move down, taking in the white tee, tight across the front under the black apron with the shop’s logo on it, Billy’s biceps bulging when he crossed his arms over his chest. Steve’s mouth felt very dry all of a sudden and hoo, was it always this hot in this store?

Billy raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He did, however, run that tongue of his along his bottom lip, another familiar sight, one that resonated inside Steve’s chest, in a place he’d been ignoring for years.

“Um, sorry, didn’t mean to…” Steve fumbled, fidgeting with his fingers. Fuck. He was being so awkward for no reason. He was usually a little bit better at human interactions.

“It’s okay, pretty boy, I know my good looks can be distracting,” Billy replied with a chuckle and Steve felt his face heat up. “To answer your question, my car broke down outside of St Louis and I realised I’d been kidding myself. There was nothing in Cali for me anymore. And I couldn’t leave Max alone with Neil.”

“Ah. I-I heard about him but Max never said—”

“I told her to keep a secret. Couldn’t risk Neil finding out. I made it back to Indianapolis on the Greyhound. Met a nice lady on the bus who offered me a place to stay for a while. Worked my ass off in a bunch of different jobs. Mona and her partner kinda adopted me, so when they moved to Chicago, I followed.”

“That’s why Max went to college in Chicago, isn’t it? Because you were there too?” Steve asked, a few things making more sense now that he knew about Billy.

“Yep. Got her out of the dorms too. She loved it at Mona’s as much as I did.”

Steve smiled. He was glad that Billy and Max had gotten away from his asshole father. He had only managed it himself recently, after more than a decade of working for his dad, being belittled every time Richard Harrington was in the office, no matter how good Steve actually was at doing his job. He’d jumped at the chance when he’d seen that job listing in Chicago and he’d cherished forever the memory on his father’s face when he’d handed in his resignation.

“That’s great, Billy,” he finally replied, and meant it.

“What about you, princess? What brings you to the Windy City?”

“Oh, I live here too. Been here about three years, I think. I don’t have to tell you how good it felt to be able to tell my dad I was leaving and he could shove it.”

“Ooooh, go Stevie! Always knew you had it in you.”

Steve laughed and shook his head. “Took me twelve years but I got there in the end…”

“That’s what matters.” Billy grinned. “So, what are you after? Roses for your girl, on account of the day? Or something more original?”

“Oh, um, I, um…” Steve sighed. “I was gonna get flowers for my boyfriend, but after the text I got before, I don’t think I will.”

“Boyfriend?” Billy was staring and Steve realised he probably needed to elaborate a little.

“Yeah… My best friend Robin helped me realise some important things about myself after high school. She made being queer in Hawkins a lot easier. We were flatmates for ages then she moved to Chicago to be with her girlfriend. You know her, actually, Heather? Holloway?”

“Oh. Wow. Yeah, I remember Heather. So you’re…”

“Bi. Yeah.”

“And you have a boyfriend.” The way Billy said it, it wasn’t a question.

It left a bad taste in Steve’s mouth. He got his phone out of his pocket again and sent Jamie a text saying they were over.

“I had a boyfriend.” Steve snorted. “Whoever he meant to text when he texted me can have his cheating ass.”

“You don’t seem too cut up about it,” Billy said, his eyes roaming over Steve and Steve found that he liked it. All at once, memories of basketball training and all the posturing and looks Billy would send him in the showers and hallways of Hawkins High took on a different flavour. All the pet names Billy used to call him when they were teenagers… the same ones he’d used a couple of times in the past ten minutes they’d been chatting.

“I’d only been seeing him for a couple of months, wasn’t anything serious.” Steve decided to take a chance. He crossed his arms and leaned forward on the counter. “It does mean I am now free tonight…”

Billy mirrored his actions, the smile on his face genuine and warm. “Is that so, pretty boy?”

“Uh huh… yanno, in case anyone was wondering.”

“That’s certainly pertinent information.”

“I thought so.” Steve leaned a little closer, smiling when Billy did too. “What time does this fine establishment close?”

“Right now,” Billy replied, without a glance at his watch as he removed his apron and set it on the counter next to them.

“Really? Won’t you get in trouble with your boss for closing early on Valentine’s Day?”

“I’m the boss and I have a hot date,” Billy said with that smirk that had always made Steve’s blood boil. Only now he could name that emotion for what it was: lust. There was something else in Billy’s eyes, something more magical and durable.

“Anyone I know?” Steve asked, his heart beating double time in his chest.

Billy didn’t reply, instead he rounded the counter and came to a stop in front of Steve with a grin. He cupped Steve’s face with both hands and breached the last inches separating them, bringing their mouths together. Steve moaned, his hands on Billy’s wrists to hold him there. He opened his lips to Billy’s questing tongue the second he felt it, pouring all that he was feeling into the kiss, and getting it back ten fold.

Steve let go of Billy’s wrists to grab his waist and dragged him closer. He couldn’t get enough of Billy, hands roaming up his back and down to cup that ass Steve had been dreaming about for months after high school, sparking his bi awakening.

“Fuck, Billy, I’m sorry it took me so long to find you again,” Steve said, breaking the kiss to catch his breath, resting his forehead against Billy’s.

“S’okay, Stevie, you’re here now,” Billy said, dipping his head for a quick kiss. He buried his fingers into Steve’s hair and locked eyes with him. “Never letting you go now I’ve got you, though, I hope you know that.”

“Fine with me,” Steve said as he wrapped his arms around Billy’s middle, delighted to feel Billy’s hard body against his.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Steve. I don't know what flowers you like yet, so I got you a whole flower shop.”

Steve laughed as Billy locked up for the night then they went up to the apartment Billy was renting above the shop where Billy cooked them dinner. Then they spent all night in bed, worshipping each other, and it was the best Valentine’s Day Steve had ever had.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #billy x steve #dragonflylady77 #valentine's day #florist billy hargrove

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schwanemannsland · 10 days ago

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Bill Collins and Self Curruption

I've had this personal theory ever since the ninth episode of Urbanspook released that, in short, Bill Collins was willing to enter this lifestyle with Mona at the beginning. Of course, this relationship (both as killer and as lovers) was incredibly one-sided at the end with Mona taking full control of Bill's every thought and action, but I have a hard time believing Bill was forced into this at the very start.

Bill Collins is by all means an American Joe-Schmoe; he has an honorable career in his local police force, he has a wife, he has children, he has that white picket fence type dream that every man strives for. Yet, despite all that, there comes a major catch: predictability. No matter how one obtains this nuclear family life it all runs upon the same script. No matter what he has to implement himself in events like anniversaries, holidays, family, vacations, school related events, that obligatory family drama, and don't get me started about the added stress of having to focus on paying taxes, the mortgage, what will and what won't insurance will cover, what trouble his kids caused, how much a new car repair will cost, and so forth and so forth. This American dream becomes a living nightmare once you have to juggle money and family relations that, at the end of the day, will amount to nothing and will never end with your deeds being thanked.

It's a monotonous life that I can't see a person like Bill Collins enjoying. At most, he would have forced himself into a delusion of enjoyment due to societal pressures and the need to abide by normalcy. This is all something he could never control so, to go completely against such routine, is the ultimate form of freedom. To live his life vicariously through his primal id with the removal of social and familial obligations isn't that insane of a concept for a middle aged man to commit. Yet, we are swayed to believe that he could never commit such actions. We, the audience, are fed this idea of "honor" and "respect" despite the lack of evidence outside of his job title as a police officer.

This goes into my next point: he became a police officer for purely selfish reasons that had no relation to protecting the community he works for. I know, shocker; a bad police officer. I won't baby feed anybody on how corrupt the police system in America is, so I'll just focus more on the specifics of Bill Collins' career. Despite the gritty reality, we are told this idea of the police. We are told that an officer of the law can't be just anyone, but someone dedicated to the people. Someone who will put their life on the line to bring peace and justice when the citizens couldn't. We are told that this title is something only morally correct people can obtain. Bill very much goes against this ideology. I have a hard time believing that someone that easily became a bloodthirsty hedonist was a good cop to begin with. In fact, I am inclined to believe his desires for violence poked its head while on the line.

Maybe Bill found himself jumping to physical restraint and assaulting suspects with weapons much quicker than his colleagues. Maybe he even jumps to the most drastic measure for small incidents like speeding or running a red light. Hell, maybe he seriously injured a convict for "justifiable reasons". Whatever it may be, violent tendencies don't pop out of nowhere for a person and a man that's in an environment that not only allows physically harming suspects, but encourages it isn't too far fetched. This could even go deeper if true with his actions being easily covered up by the department due to either image, his attitude and charisma, him being able to get his job done no matter what or a mix of all three. With such a small town, it would be a disaster if one or more officers were openly tried for misconduct and assault so it would be better to look the other way. We can't have the perception of the "good, morally correct cop" being questioned.

The final point I want to cover is how convenient everything went in his favor once he and his family got affected by Mona. Think about it: he is spared from being killed, has had major pieces of evidence that pointed towards him being involved was destroyed (his car being abandoned in the ocean) or cleaned away (there was no mention of fingerprints or further murders besides hi infant once his house was investigated), and how he of all people obtained the killer's self portrait right before his home invasion. It's hard to believe Mona spared him nor that she would easily overpower a man like him, even with a weapon on hand. I'm inclined to believe he jumped at the opportunity to execute his family with Mona perhaps due to a spur-of-the-moment decision or a premeditated one crafted beforehand. Either way, the actions following didn't seem to benefit Mona in the slightest. Why would she destroy and abandon Bill's car? She never seemed concerned about leaving her prints behind nor was it going to deter the police away from her scent due to its placement by the lighthouse. If anything, it hindered her since she had to go about abandoning a car without the plate being read nor noticed in such a small town. The only reason she would need to get rid of the vehicle is if she wanted to wash away and hide incriminating evidence against Bill.

We can further inspect this theory by looking at Mona's first painting of Bill. The painting is incredibly interesting in how it depicts a supposed victim due it being one of the most simplistic portraits so far (even "Scream Maggy Scream" had deep violets and hints of pink) with it being only black and white with the face itself being a cartoonishly bland one with two small eyes and a tiny smile on an elongated face. It doesn't show him being tortured nor in any sort of distress. It doesn't even have a puny title alluding to his demise with it just being dubbed "Bill Collins" (of course there is no sign of her giving it an official name so even assuming its named after Bill would be a stretch). With a quick glimpse it has a lot of striking resemblance to how Mona appears: pale skin, very smooth features, sunken in eyes, and a very simple yet off putting representation of human emotions. The only major difference is that he's popularly shown smiling, before and after Mona's involvement. It's safe to assume Mona is trying to reveal how similar she sees Bill and herself, from either actions, personality, or a mix of both.

Now, the series isn't finished so Mona's reasoning for attacking the Collins family can easily go against everything I said. Maybe it all was just a coincidence and Bill really was that sweet hearted Joe-Schmoe. Maybe the painting towards him was made just to poke fun at how he looks and nothing more. Only time will tell. But, all and all, I believe Bill had a much bigger involvement than we are led to believe and is no better than Mona when it comes to that lust for sadistic torture.

#urbanspook #mona lanius #bill collins

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tangledinink · 1 year ago

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Okay! One last I'm Sorry, Teenage Mutant What Now? oneshot, and then next week we'll get a new chapter... and this week's piece is about Mikey! :) Read it on ao3 or below the cut.

It had all started with a beautiful shade of ultramarine.

And it wasn’t as if Mikey took issue with the color itself-- it was a lovely shade of blue. That wasn’t the problem. And quite frankly, he didn’t notice it at first, but at some point halfway through his fifth-period class, while his eyes were wandering idly around the room, looking at nothing in particular, just roaming for the sake of roaming while he listened… he had paused, frowned, and back-tracked to do a double-take.

Ultramarine?

That was so odd, because… Usually, Mona was midnight blue. Her life color was a lot darker than this, richer, slightly less saturated, and closer to a shade of navy than… this.

I mean. There was nothing wrong with it. Ultramarine was a good color. It looked good on her…!

But it wasn’t hers.

Mikey had frowned a bit, his brow twitching slightly. He had never seen anyone’s life color change before. Was that a thing?... He supposed he had no way of knowing since it was just this weird little quirk that he enjoyed on his own, so it wasn’t like he could look it up or ask anyone, but… he had never seen this happen before.

Did something happen to her, he wondered? He had worried about this for a bit and endeavored to check in with her later, just in case, but then had let it go. I mean, what was he supposed to do about it?

But then she wasn’t the only one.

He noticed it slowly, but more people’s colors seemed to shift throughout the remainder of the class. Bit by bit, things began to tilt just ever so slightly to either the left or right on the metaphorical color wheel, not wrong but not exactly right, either. By the time he got to his next class, everyone’s colors were just a little bit off, and beginning to blur slightly, kind of fuzzy around the edges, and Mikey was starting to freak out just a tiny bit.

The shimmering, bouncing lights came after that. They teased at the very edges of his vision, tickling at his eyelashes, but never there when he tried to turn around and see them. And the more it happened, the more nervous he became. His stomach flip-flopped, and he resisted the urge to fidget in his seat. Something felt… wrong. He wasn’t very focused for the rest of the class.

It had been just after the final bell of the day, amongst the chaos of the entire school’s excitement of being dismissed, racing through the hallway, when a portion of Mikey’s field of vision gave out from under him. And suddenly, there was this big, fuzzy patch of black on his left side. No matter how many times he blinked and rubbed at his eyes, it wouldn’t go away. It was suddenly like he was halfway blind. And then he for-real started to panic.

He was debating whether he should take out his phone and call one of his family members, like, right now, or if he should try to make his way to the nurse’s office on his own (could he still do that--? School was technically over--) when the pain started.

It was like being hit by a freight train.

He nearly dropped his books at the impact of it when it truly settled in, the knot in his stomach from before now rising up into full-blown nausea, threatening to overtake him. He came to a very sudden stop in his journey, finding the nearest wall to hang onto and squeezing his eyes shut, fighting back the urge to vomit.

Oh my god.

It hurt so bad.

The pain was absolutely dazzling, pulsing bright and vicious through his head. It felt like he had some sort of hot, heavy, alien creature attached to one side of his skull, burrowing its way into him, and he could feel its heartbeat. And it was absolutely all-encompassing. He couldn’t even make his feet move-- all he could do was stand there for a second and try to breathe, to swallow repeatedly, and try desperately not to throw up here in the hall.

For a second, he just stood there and he thought, maybe it’ll go away.

Maybe it’ll get better.

But it was just getting worse.

It was so loud. It was so bright. Every voice and shuffled foot and slam of a locker door was like a drill buzzing straight into his brain, and the fluorescent lights overhead were eating him alive, and he couldn’t move, but he had to-- He had to do something.

He was so, so certain that if he stayed here any longer, he was absolutely going to die.

We gotta do something. Come on. Move. You have to get-- somewhere. Not here. To the nurse’s office. They’ll be able to help, but you have to move. Go on. Move! Move your feet! He begged, and eventually, miraculously, his nerves listened to him.

If anyone noticed him, stopped him, asked if he was okay, he couldn’t hear them, because he was putting every piece of energy that he had into making his body move instead of curling up into a little ball on the floor. A few tears were already beginning to track their way down his face as he trembled, panicked breaths rattling through his chest. He ducked and weaved past other students in his frantic retreat, but he couldn’t see anything properly out of his left side, and he kept bumping into people. And he wished he could stop and apologize and see if they were okay, but he couldn’t. He just-- He had to not be here. He really, really had to not be here. He was on the fifth floor. His goal, the nurse’s office, was on the ground level.

Oh god.

This was the worst pain he had ever experienced in his life.

He made it about as far as the stairwell before he couldn’t move anymore.

---

Once he hadn’t been able to make himself go any further, the pain and nausea overwhelming him, he had stopped for a bit, leaning against the cool concrete of the wall and clutching his books tight in his hands as he focused simply on breathing.

At some point, he had taken out his phone, attempting to text one of his family members to send out an SOS, to tell them that he was fucking dying in the stairwell and that he loved them and that his final wish was for them to give all his artwork to the MOMA, ‘cause they’d be damn lucky to have it, thank you, and everything else to charity, but it was like looking at the goddamn sun. Every time he tried to draft out a message or even just navigate enough to place a phone call (at this point he was tempted to just straight up call 911, which felt pretty dramatic for a headache, but every second that passed the statement ‘I’m dying’ felt a lot less like hyperbole and a lot more like a real, actual possibility,) he was hit with this bright, hot white pain on top of the already thick layer of pain and his head would throb and his stomach would lurch and his knees would buckle, and eventually, after a few attempts and a good deal of frustrated crying, he just gave up.

By the time he had gotten here, the crowd had already thinned out quite a bit, with the main max exodus of the final bell already having tapered off. Only the occasional group of students would come through, and some of them looked at him, but with him crying softly and squinting at his phone in the corner, most people probably figured he was fighting with a friend or going through a breakup or something and seemed to feel it wasn’t any of their business, and they didn’t bother him.

He was basically alone by the time he accepted his fate of dying here in the stairwell, curling up sadly in a little ball and weeping softly to himself. Now that there were so few kids lingering, and therefore much less competition, anyone who did want to head up or down the stairs would likely take the elevators instead. And Mikey thought belatedly to himself that he should have grabbed someone and told them that his brain was melting when he still had the chance.

But now he was alone, and he supposed that was that.

And he didn’t know what else to do. Picking up his head hurt, and opening his eyes hurt, and everything hurt, so he just… sat there. His earlier sobbing had died down to just weak little sniffles and hiccups, tears dripping sadly down his face as he tiredly, miserably, manually sucked in each and every inhale and exhale-- just trying to somehow breathe through the pain.

He wasn’t really sure how long he was there. Looking back, he figured it couldn’t have actually been that long. But it felt like eons. Mikey had just about accepted this as his final resting place when the relative quiet of his hiding spot was split by the horrendous screech of the door opening, and Mikey winced--

And then he heard, “Oh, sweet Salomea Skłodowska–Curie, there you are! Mikey, where have you been!?”

And the noise hurt, but he recognized that voice. He picked up his head just enough to stare at Donnie in shock… and then absolutely sobbed in relief at the sight of him.

Donnie blinked in surprise, floundering for a moment before letting the door slide shut behind him, kneeling quickly down by Mikey’s side and examining him with worry.

“Mikey? What’s wrong? What happened?”

“I-- I don’t know!” He hiccuped pitifully, his shoulders shaking as he sniffled. “It’s-- s-something is w-wrong, and, and I don’t know w-what but it hurts and I, I can’t see, and, and I don’t kn-know what’s happening, but everything hurts and I feel like I’m gonna die…!”

“You can’t see?” Donnie repeated, their voice pressing a bit with obvious concern. “You can’t see at all?”

“N-no, it’s, it’s just-- just a little over here,” Mikey sniffled, gesturing slightly to his left. “Like a. A spot, and. E-everything is just… f-fuzzy, and, and my, my head hurts…”

“Mikey, why didn’t you text one of us?”

“I can’t,” he sobbed. “It h-hurts too bad to look, Dee, it’s too bright!”

Donnie narrowed his eyes, frowning slightly.

“And you said your head hurts?”

Mikey nodded weakly, wiping at his eyes.

“Where? Show me.”

“Uhm…” Mikey wobbled for a minute, wincing before he finally kind of wiggled a hand to indicate. “J-just… over here, on this side, all the way u-up… It… It hurts so bad, I…! I d-don’t know what to do…!”

Donnie stayed quiet for a moment, seeming to consider this, before he sighed very softly, patting his brother’s knee decisively.

“Right. Well. Congratulations, Hamato Michelangelo,” he hummed quietly, his voice all careful and whispered. “I diagnose you with a migraine.”

Mikey kept quiet for a second, processing this, before he sobbed.

“This is a migraine?!” He bit out, his voice absolutely trembling.

“Yes, well, they are genetic--”

“I-is this what it’s like for you!? This-- this is h-horrible! You-- you have m-migraines every other week!” Mikey wept.

Donnie blinked in surprise, seemingly taken aback by his brother’s outburst before scoffing softly, waving off his concerns. “Experience is all relative,” he muttered. “The point is, you’re not dying, alright? You’ll be fine. It’ll just be… unpleasant for a little while,” he sighed, shrugging his bag off his shoulder and beginning to dig through it. “Did you take anything yet?”

“N-no…”

“Okay. Here,” he produced a small pill bottle from his backpack, cracking it open quickly and shaking out two little pills. “This is the good shit. We should be at approximately the same dose…” He paused to rapidly examine the label, humming softly to himself for just a second before he was seemingly satisfied, holding the drugs out to the other. “I don’t know if it’ll fix it, but it should at least help.”

Mikey sniffled, nodding a tiny bit and agreeably holding out a trembling palm to accept the medication. Donnie grabbed his water bottle from his bag, passing it over, and though Mikey took it, he hiccuped softly, hesitating for a second before he looked up at Donnie with wide eyes.

“Y-you don’t l-like it when, when people drink out of your water b-bottle…”

Donnie rolled his eyes. “As much as I appreciate the concern, Michael, I will disinfect it later. It’s fine. Just take the meds.”

Mikey hiccuped a bit, but he did as he was told anyway, tossing the pills into his mouth and swallowing them down with a generous swig of water. Despite this, this sickly sweet taste kind of burned the back of his mouth for a minute, and he wrinkled up his face at it. Ew…

“Yeah, I know,” Donnie hummed. “Okay. Uh. Look. Let’s get you to the nurse’s office so you can lay down and wait for these to kick in, and then we can go home.”

Laying down did sound pretty good, Mikey had to admit, and he nodded a tiny bit, his bottom lip still wobbling.

Donnie sort of hesitated for a second, his brows furrowed with concern as he looked Mikey up and down. “Do you think you can walk? Or do you want me to… carry you…?”

Mikey paused for a moment, and then he snorted.

“Carry me?”

“Look, I’m trying to be nice…!”

Mikey kind of laughed weakly, somewhere between a giggle and a sob, wiping at his face.

“Dee, you can’t carry me…! You’re too small!”

Donnie bristled in offense. “Pardon me!? I’m taller than you!”

“Yeah, but you’re smaller than me,” Mikey insisted, just barely managing a teeny little smile, his eyes still closed as his head drooped against the wall. “You’re… little… you weigh, like, five pounds…”

“Oh, you are so lucky you have a migraine, or we would be having a discussion right now,” Donnie hissed in reply, an absolute scowl painting his face. “I could…”

He hesitated.

“I could call Raph. He could carry you.”

Mikey’s trembling grin widened a teeny, tiny bit. See? He was right. Donnie couldn’t carry him. At least not for that far.

“No. It’s. Uhm. It’s okay. I can walk,” he said, taking a few long breaths, very slowly rising up to his feet. Everything kind of wobbled and swam for a moment, but it backed off after a second as he found his balance again. “Okay. Hang on. Here,” Donnie mumbled, “This will help…”

Mikey watched in shock as his brother pulled his headphones down off his head, reaching over to instead carefully place them over Mikey’s.

The muffled quiet that fell over the world was, admittedly, absolutely lovely, but he still gaped at the other.

“But-- you need these--” he tried to protest.

“Mikey, I assure you I can make it from here to the nurse’s office without a meltdown. You need them more right now. I will be fine,” Donnie promised, reaching over to adjust the settings on the headphones slightly, tilting Mikey’s head to the side with his hand as he did so, careful fingers nudging at his chin to get him to turn. White noise washed over Mikey like seafoam, lapping at the edges of him, cold and soothing and soft.

Mikey nearly started sobbing again. Because everything still hurt so bad, but even just this, even just taking away the noise, which there was very little of to begin with, made it so much better. He didn’t think he had ever been in so much pain in his life, and that was still true, but already it was just so much less than it had been five minutes ago.

“Alright. Is that okay?”

Mikey hiccuped softly, nodding a little bit.

“Alright. Let me know if you need a break or anything. And keep your eyes shut. The hall lights are gonna hurt, so just keep close and I’ll make sure you don’t walk into anything. Got it?” Donnie instructed shortly, reaching out to offer his hand to the other.

Mikey did sob a tiny bit this time, scrubbing at his wet face with his sleeve one last time before he took his big brother’s hand.

“Th-thanks, Dee.”

“Don’t mention it,” Donnie muttered. “I know how much this sucks. You ready?”

Mikey breathed deep, taking a long inhale, and then letting out an exhale, passing his trust entirely over to his sibling as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Yeah. Ready.”

---

[ Donnie: Have any of you heard from Mikey?

Leo: not since likkeee lunch. he sent me. like. eight tiktoks.

Raph: hes not with you???

Leo: dont you guys have dance r/n?

Donnie: No, I waited at the usual place so we could head over, but he didn’t show up.

Raph: what????

Leo: chill, he prbly got distracted w one of his friends or smth and wasnt looking at the time. U know how he is.

April: ^^^

April: ill try calling too. I havent left yet so i dont mind lookin around rq to see if i can find him anywhere

Donnie: Thank you. I’ll do the same. Please text if you see him.

Raph: if you dont find him ill come back

Leo: i can duck out of rehearsals if you guys need. but hes probably around.

Donnie: He’s definitely still in the school, as per geotracking.

Leo: stop geotracking us

(read)

Donnie: I found him. He’s fine.

Leo: seeee? hes finneeee

April: where was he?

Donnie: The stairwell.

Donnie: And he has a migraine so no one bother him for the rest of the evening, understood? Don’t call him. Don’t text him. Don’t come poking around his room to see if he’s okay. Just leave him alone.

Donnie: Raph.

Donnie: I’m gonna try and see if I can get him to sleep once we get home so he can at least be unconscious for some of this. And if I am successful in this and then any of you dum-dums wake him up, I swear there will be severe consequences.

Donnie: Light and noise should be kept to an absolute minimum until he’s over this. Got it?

April: oof!!! that sucks :( poor mikey. got it!

Raph: 👍

Leo: lol yah ok ✨boss ✨

Leo: thank god raph is older than u coz ud be a fucking nightmare lmao

Donnie: Die. ]

---

[ Mikey: omg i missed my phone 🥺

Mikey: migraines SUCK

Mikey: also PSA if anyone ever makes a noise above a gd whisper when D has a migraine ever again i will do unspeakable things because i have seen the error of my ways i s2gggggg

Donnie: THANK YOU.

Leo: eugh boi ]

#sorrywhatnowau #tw vomit mention #sorrywhatnowau fic #writing #tmnt #tmnt 2018 #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt fic #rottmnt michelangelo #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt donatello #rottmnt donnie #rise mikey #rise donnie #rottmnt au #rottmnt human au #tmnt fanfic

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tonycries · 1 month ago

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You gem. You absolute masterpiece of God. You shining piece of gold. You are a piece of art, that the Angels drawn angels Earth,and forgot the paint brush. You have a freckle on your neck. Did you know that?

It´s rather cute.

You are absolute,astoundingly gorgeous and that´s the less interesting thing about you. You are Ethereal. A Heavenly Angel that God send down to Earth to put a smile in people in the worst days. You are so beautiful that you holy light cures depression itself. You are the pinnacle of perfection.

You are the most gorgeous person that i have ever seen. You hair is one of the most gorgeous that i´ve ever seen. And you smell like strawberrys.

You are always so happy and kind to people, it´s like a big breath of fresh air when i walk into the street and see you! You haven´t worn makeup all week? Damn, you´re gorgeous! You carry yourself with much more maturity than most people on the Internet!

I love talking to you. You dress in a stunning way,and you look really nice every day. You look just like your mother,she was a beautiful human being.

Damn,that confidence looks really sexy on you! You think your beauty is on your considerably big breasts? Look up! I adore you. You are a real life Mona Lisa. You are the breathing,talking,living equivalent of a piece of art. I love seeing your smile,it brightens my day every time. I wish i could make you laught like that more often. You´re beautiful all the time,but when you smile like that,i swear my world stops!

I cannot believe how incredibly smart you are. Amazingly smart. Beautifully smart. Q.I. of 100 smart. Higher than Einstein Q.I smart. Einstein would be envious os you. You could decyphre the secrets of the universe if you could,and you will one day.

You´re that "nothing" when people ask me what i´m thinking about. You look great today. You´re a smart cookie. I bet you make babies smile. You have impeccable manners. I like your style. You have the best laught.I aprecciate you. You are the most perfect you there is. Our system of inside jokes is so advanced that only you and i get it. And I like it. You light up the room. You should be proud of yourself. If cartoon bluebirds were real,they would be sitting on your shoulders singing with you right now. You´re a great listener. I bet you sweat glitter. Jokes are funnier when you tell them. Your bellybutton is kind of adorable. You´re irrestible when you blush. Babies and small animals probably love you. There´s ordinary,and then there´s you. You´re someone´s reason to smile. You´re even better than a Unicorn,because

you´re real. How do you keep so funny and making everyone laugh? Has anyone ever told you that you have a great posture? The way you treasure your loved ones is incredible. You´re really something special,you´re a gift to those around you.

Did i mentioned that i love you?

*SOBS*

For someone that yaps uncontrollably, I genuinely have no words omg 😳

Now I can die happily knowing what those shoujo protagonists feel like, are you by chance looking for an alpha wife, user jxdenix?

#tonytalks #omg like #AHHHHHH-#hope you have a lovely lovely week

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enam3l · 2 years ago

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Hi Mona!

I love your rockstar!eddie series!

I know request for him are closed for now, but when you decide to open up request again, I wanted to leave this here so that I won't forget.

Rockstar!Eddie coming back home after touring and he's so touch starved and deprived of you. So, when he comes home he ravishes you. He catches himself asking you if he's too rough and you're thinking he's NOT rough ENOUGH because you're just as deprived of him.

I hope have a winter/December and a great new year!

thank you angel! and you know what? because you've all enjoyed our rockstar eddie christmas request week, i'll give you guys one last fic. don't worry if i didn't answer yours. i will do them all i either A. just didn't get round to it or B. want to do it at a certain point cos i need to cover some other plots first

three fucking weeks (rockstar eddie x reader) 3.6k / mega smut from start to finish / fluff

this is for everyone who got involved in the xmas request week because of that, i've hit 700 followers. so here is my biggest smut fic yet before rockstar eddie goes on hiatus for a couple of weeks. this one ends on a cliffhanger! but you might want to refer to here to work it out... maybe then you'll also know what happens in the next fic

you can see all rockstar eddie x reader stories and lore at #enam3ls rockstar eddie or the masterlist! and check out my new series love, lola

February 1993.

The last words you'd heard from Eddie were muffled from the other side of a bad telephone line. Although the sound warped by the the airport's tannoy and bustling passengers, you heard his lust filled words clear as day.

'The second I get home, I'm going to ruin that pretty little pussy.'

Three weeks since you'd seen Eddie. Three long arduous weeks since you had felt his touch. Corroded Coffin stowing away in a Joshua Tree music studio, hoping the barren surroundings would inspire new music. The writing process intermittently broken up by a series of gigs at intimate venues around California. Back in New York, the greatest city in the world had become the dullest in Eddie's absence. With damn Steve having swept your best friend off her feet you hadn't even anyone else to occupy your free time. Between your working hours, you'd managed to rearrange the bedroom, paint the living room and spend your months wages in retail therapy. But finally your boy was coming home and you couldn't lie, you were fucking horny.

Left to your own devices for the best part of a month, no toy compared to Eddie. Your touch incomparable to the sparks he could ignite on your skin with just a featherlight stroke. Vibrator redundant now your body knew the sensation of Eddie's mouth humming against your clit. Dildo a mere cheap imitation of the way Eddie overwhelmingly filled your holes perfectly. By now the flight had landed, it was just a waiting game until he came through that door and you could show him how much you missed him.

The front door slams open, handle cracking into the wall, sure to leave a dent but Eddie didn't care - he was eager.

'Sweetheart, I'm homeee!' he sings.

Bags carelessly discarded on the floor, all he can think about is being back in your arms.

'Baby? I'm back!!' he shouts again.

Eddie strips his jacket and kicks off his boots, giving you a chance to reply but to no avail.

'Y/N? What the fuck, where are you...'

When entering the apartment, he'd been too excited to even realise the lights were off, the entire place seeming desolate. Socked feed pad along the hardwood floors as he moves further into your shared home. Kitchen? Empty. Bathroom? Empty. Study? Empty. It's only as he catches himself from slipping that Eddie notices a trail of petals leading from the front door into the bedroom, where the door sits ajar. Too wrapped up in wanting to see you, he'd failed to notice. Now he realises a soft glow seeping through the cracks. Grinning in anticipation as he pushes the door open.

'Mother of god,' Eddie gasps as if the wind had been knocked out of his lungs.

The lights are dimmed low, only aided by candlelight which together illuminates your reclining figure on the bed. His eyes scan your body, drinking in the sight he'd been longing for. Never in his wildest dreams did he think that sight could improve. Your cute toes wiggle in black stockings that travel up your legs and cut off at the meat of your thigh. Even with your legs crossed, Eddie can see a tiny black material that barely covers your pussy. Then your torso is adorned in a black bustier, hooks travelling up to where a deep v cut finished below your sternum; breasts spilling out of the ruffled cups. His cock twitches at the thought of ripping the hooks open. Your neck and collarbones are exposed, soft, delicate skin waiting to be marked by his lips. And then there's your face. Eyes sparkling at him, full of lust and love. Mouth struggling to keep a grin at bay. The face he went to sleep thinking about every night, woke up from dreams about and spent the day with it in mind as he tried to write music. Your arm reaches out, hand beckoning Eddie forward.

'Hi Eds. I missed you... too much.'

Your head nods down to his crotch now. Too lost in the vision before him, Eddie hadn't noticed the way his cock had hardened to the point of straining against his jeans.

'I think you should probably take your clothes off and come and say hello,' you smirk.

Instantly, he's scrambling. Head barely able to form a coherent thought aside from how he needs to touch you right now. T-shirt flings to one side of the room and socks to another.

'Sweetheart... I - fuck. You look like a dream. I'm scared I'm still on that fucking flight or delirious in the stupid desert,' Eddie pants as he scrambles with the buckle of his jeans. The second his aching cock springs free you let out an inadvertent moan. As soon as his body is entirely freed of fabric constraints, he's hurling himself onto the bed and crawling up towards you.

Eddie's lips kiss every inch of you as he moves upwards. His lips need to reacclimatise to the body he knows better than his own. Kisses pressed from the tips of your toes, your kneecaps, covering your thick thighs and then lingering on your poorly concealed cunt. He hisses as he leans in towards your mound, able to smell your arousal. Lips kiss the satin fabric of your thong and the skin it fails to cover. You're unable to stop your hips from involuntarily bucking as soon as he's near the place that's longed for him. Eddie's hands find yours and your fingers intwine, both of you gripping tightly at the other. Desperate to never let the other slip away for such a prolonged period again. Kisses litter up your sternum then across your pushed up cleavage. Once he reaches the plains of your collar and neck, Eddie indulges himself. Lips sucking marks onto the skin that's looking far too bare due to his absence. Teeth nipping gently causing those giggles that make his heart and cock swell. And finally, your faces are level, his hovering above yours.

The pair of you just stare for a moment. Absorbing the person you'd both been lost without; reacquainting with every freckle, blemish or fleck of colour in each eye. Both of your hands have traveled up to cradle the other's face. Your fingers twirl the curls that frame Eddie's face, pushing them away so you can fully appreciate your pretty boy.

'My pretty boy, I love you.'

Your noses rub against each other. Even this close, vision slightly obscured, you can see the blush that creeps up on his cheeks at the nickname.

'I love you too, sweetheart. Gone crazy without you.'

Humming in agreement, you tug at his hair.

'Feral,' you whine.

Eddie chuckles in a warm, sexy way that travels to your core. His eyes look down at your body beneath him, admiring again the outfit you'd chosen. Retracting a hand from your face, travelling it down your side before he slides it between your thighs. The string of the thong wet with your arousal as he pulls it from between your lips, then pings it back. The brief contact making you whine.

'Yep, I think you are feral, my love. Think I oughta do something 'bout that.'

'Plea-'

Your plea is cut off as Eddie's lips crush into yours. The sweet kisses that had covered your body are gone, replaced by desperate wet ones. It's seconds before the kisses are open mouths, tongues flicking against each other. Hips pressing towards the other, frantically seeking friction. Both of you whine into each others mouth as you begin to hump. You push your hips up, legs spread achingly apart to trap Eddie between. In return, he presses hard against you. Thick length bearing down on your clit, occasionally sliding between your wet pussy. You're both groaning and grinding, transformed once more into hormonal teenagers and whilst it's good, it's not enough.

'Gotta stop,' Eddie pants, 'this isn't - isn't how I wanna cum with you.'

You're unable to reply because your teeth are sinked into his shoulder to stifle the embarrassing moans scratching to come out. Never in your life have you been this pent up. Eddie tears his crotch away from yours, crawling back down your body. His hands, rough from weeks of constant guitar practice, firmly grip your thighs, keeping them apart. Doing so causes the thong to ping between the lips of your cunt which are now spread. His tongue flickers over his lips at your glistening wetness.

'Baby she's desperate... going to eat your cute little pussy now, 'kay? Missed her taste.'

You've been stifled by the built up desire, unable to produce anything but pathetic whinnies. But now you grab his hair harshly, yanking his head back up before his tongue can touch you. Wide eyed at your hard tug, Eddie looks up.

'No!' You snap. 'Spin the fuck around and get on top of me. Need to taste you too.'

The sternness in your voice has the ability to scare him in the way every authority figure has previously failed. Careful not to squash you, Eddie turns around, swinging a leg over so he's straddling you and then slowly reverses until his crotch hovers near your face. Usually you'd be on top so now he's far too aware of his weight. But the firm grip on his ass that tugs him down makes him to cave. Instantly Eddie's thick cock is bottoming out in your throat. Tears well in your eyes but you groan, pleased that his taste and smell now dominate your senses.

The luring natural musk of his skin and the slight salted taste of precum that had beaded on his tip.

The moment he sinks into your mouth, his teeth sink into the dough of your thigh - the pleasure sudden and overwhelming for him.

'Oh fuck-' Eddie sobs into your skin as you adjust and start to bob your head up and down his length.

Resting on his knees allows him to thrust in time with your movements, fucking his cock into your warm mouth. Eddie dives his face into your cunt, hand lifting away the thong that prevents him from burying his tongue deep into your folds. Humming at the taste he's been dreaming of for weeks. The vibrations cause you to gargle against his dick. After a few swipes of his tongue, lapping up the pool of arousal that had formed, he finds your clit. Tongue flickering over the enlarged bud, already feeling better than your fingers and vibrator had. Instantly, you spread your legs wider, granting him more access. Now he latches on, suckling at your clit desperately. The pair of you lie there, contorted to suck feverishly at the most sensitive parts of each other's body. It's overwhelmingly intimate and carnal. Something neither of you would've done for any previous lover.

Now, Eddie lets his hand travel towards your hole that he knows is begging to be filled. Two large fingers plunge inside your cunt and instantly he feels your walls contract against him, eager to maintain the fullness. Your throat contracts in response as you moan at his fingers penetrating you. Eddie continues his assault on your clit as his fingers fuck into you. The pair of you forlorn in pleasure, you whimpering against his cock as he moans against your clit. Mimicking his movements and desperate to reward him, you bring your hand up to his exposed ass. You grab and knead the fat of his asscheek before letting a finger rub gentle circles round the rim. Immediately, Eddie breaks contact with your clit.

'Oh shit, please, baby, please,' he begs.

Now you're warmed up, he slips in a third finger. As if to encourage you to go further with your own movements against his hole. You want to coo at his begging but your mouth is too full of his perfect cock. Applying firmer pressure as you circle his hole, you feel him ready. Finally you finger slips into his asshole, it's hot and desperate for attention. Walls pulsating against your finger.

The pair of you mirror the other now. Fingers fucking into the other at the same pace, growing more brutal by the minute. Your mouths sucking and licking at the other's sensitive spot. Knowing both of you will only last a few minutes at this overwhelming pace, Eddie breaks away.

'Y/N we gotta stop. I'm so close and I need to fuck you. Sweetheart, I gotta be inside you'.

Eddie pulls himself out of your mouth, allowing you to instantly gasp for the extra air his thickness had been blocking. He moves back so your eyes can meet again, large warm hand cupping your cheek.

'You okay?'

You nod as you catch your breath.

'Yeah, Eds. Please, please fuck me. I need to cum,' you beg. Unbothered at the slight patheticness to your tone.

Eddie removes your thong entirely now.

'We both know that was doing nothing,' he laughs.

Without guidance, you're putting your legs over his shoulders; an unsubtle hint that you need him now and you need him deep. He takes his length and lines himself up with your entrance. Then, three weeks of longing are broken as he thrusts into you. Too overwhelmed with wanting to even slowly enter you. Eddie is instantly bottoming out, balls pressed to your asshole as you wail at finally being filled.

'Oh jesus - yes Eddie!'

The volume and anguish in your moan takes even him back. He's never heard you be this desperate and it triggers something primal in him. Instantly he's thrusting into you fast and hard. Each unrelenting push jiggling your breasts further out the corset.

'God I missed - ugh - this tight little pussy,' he grunts.

You need even more. Your fingers yank at the hooks of the top until it parts and your tits finally spill out. Eddie moans at the sight. Instinctively, he's latching onto your hard nipples, folding your body in half to do so. Now he's sucking at your breast and fucking you deeper and it's still not enough. You're greedy in a way you've never been before. Making their way around his back, one hand finds his head, pushing him close to your breasts as your nails scratch his scalp. The other hand seeks his ass, squeezing it until you retract your touch and then crack your palm hard against his soft cheek.

Instantly Eddie bolts up from your chest, staring at your eyes, wild. The warm chocolate of his iris, eclipsed by blown out pupils.

'Did you just fucking spank me, sweetheart?' he chokes out.

Now he's upright you're no longer able to reach so you seek a new method of showing him how you want it. Your hand now clutches at his throat, Adam's apple bobbing against the stretch of skin between your spread thumb and forefinger.

'Yes and I'll do it again.'

You sound like a brat and you have no remorse. Three weeks of pent up frustration is now rearing its head. Eddie puts his hand over yours and squeezes it, encouraging you to tighten the grip at his throat. He's continuing to fuck you but his pace has slowed, intrigued by this turn.

'Sweetheart,' he coos, 'what has gotten into you? I like it.'

With one hand flexing across his throat, your free one takes his and pulls it to your mound. Encouragingly placing it over your clit. Grinning, Eddie's fingers rub firm circles over it as he languidly thrusts into your cunt. Although at a slow pace, his cock plunges deep into you. Hitting the sweetest, most filling spot and then dragging torturously along it. The movements have your hard exterior crumbling and whining under him.

'You- you were gone... I was... was so fucking horny. Couldn't c-cum,' you're gasping now. Eddie's motions along with the way the chocolate of his eyes appears molten at your confessions.

'Not with you. Needed you... Eddie. Tried everything.'

He bends down to give you a deep kiss. Years together and yet he remains in shock that you need him as much as he needs you. He hopes this kiss will wipe away your cute little pout.

'Couldn't even play with your toys?' he murmurs, intoxicated by how fucked out you look beneath him. You shake your head, hands wrapped around his neck, thumbs stroking his skin.

'Okay, baby. I'll make you cum, yeah?'

'Please Eds,' you beg.

The smile that appears from hearing your pleas is heartaching. Then he starts concentrating on thrusting into you again. Speeding up his movements, languid pace abandoned. But it's not enough, the earlier momentum lost.

'No,' your hands tighten on his throat, 'like before. Harder.'

'It wasn't too hard?'

The nails that dig into his Adam's apple tell him the answer before you do.

'No. I want you to make me fucking cry.'

'Fuck, fuck baby, yeah okay.'

Instantly Eddie is folding you again, arms braced either side of your head as he towers over. Your knees press up near your shoulders. His pace quickens, fucking you senseless. The drawn out process of this evening has left you dripping. Sounds of wetness filling the room as he plunges back into you each time.

'Hear that fucking sound, best music I ever heard,' he groans.

Your hand seeks his ass again and you repeat your earlier actions. Spanking him again. The crack against his skin ringing even louder than the squelch of your cunt.

'Oh fuck yeah,' Eddie cries, 'again.'

The spanking repeats, each time you do it, his pace somehow quickens. Your clit is throbbing now, aching for touch again. You hand wedges between your bodies and you whimper as you relieve the ache.

'Wait,' Eddie's shifting over you, 'from behind, wanna fuck you from behind. Only I get to play with your clit.'

His voice is strained, you know he's at the edge of cumming. Eddie gets off the bed, standing and tugging your ass towards him once you're on your knees. The moment he slams back into you, your back caves into a deep arch and you both moan.

'Yes, that's it!' he cries.

Eddie wraps his arm under you, finding your clit and continuing his assault. Fingers pressing harder and covering a greater expanse than you ever could. The fast circles in time with his cock fucking into you. From behind he goes deeper, pressing against that one spot with growing frequency.

'More,' you demand.

He leans forward until his mouth latches onto your shoulder. Like this, he's prevented from pulling out far and instead it feels as if he's humping you. It's dirty and animalistic and it's what you needed.

'Ed, I'm close.'

His teeth sink into you now causing you to cry out, giving you exactly what you asked for.

'Look at you... fuckin mess sweetheart... all cos you couldn't get my cock.'

The tightness in your abdomen increases and Eddie feels how your cunt clenches round him like a warning.

'Shit,' you cry 'please please come inside me.'

Eddie instantly pulls you up so your back is flush against his chest. Fingers still toying your clit that has begun to ache from stimulation. His free arm wraps around you too, hand shaking around your throat to gently grip. Plush lips seek out your neck, pressing encouraging kisses as you near your climax.

'Don't you worry baby...' he grunts against your neck.

'Daddy is going to fill you up good.'

The nickname pushes you over

'Eddie,' you cry as you come. Three weeks have of build up, only worsened by tonight's teasing, come shattering down in a climax.

'Holy fuck y/n,' Eddie chokes.

He's realised before you and it takes you a moment to clock that you've squirted. Spraying over Eddie's cock and the sheets. He grunts like a feral beast at the sensation. An additional wet warmth showering over him alongside the tight clench of your spasming pussy. He takes a few more drawn out thrusts, sloppy from your cum.

'Three... weeks... worth!'

Eddie moans your name as his comes after his final word. You feel the heat squirt up inside you and he suddenly jerks, shooting out another load deep inside.

'Oh jesus...' Eddie whimpers as he humps at you again, 'there's more.'

And again another burst paints your insides. Instantly you flop forward, exhausted. A subconscious part of you whispers to make sure his spend stays buried in your cunt.

Eddie watches as you wriggle back up to the pillows, collapsing with a sigh. Knees bent, keeping your hips angled up. He crawls onto the bed and opens your legs to take in the view. Pussy puffy and blushing and completely full of his cum.

'Tryna keep me in there?' He chuckles.

'Yes,' you blush.

Bringing his forehead to rest against your knee he groans.

'Fuck sweetheart, don't tell me that. My balls ache from how much I just came but you'll get me hard again.'

The desperate look in his eyes makes you chuckle. You tug him on top of you, his head falling to your chest. Stroking his sweat matted curls, you cradle his face. Littering kisses all over him as he hums in content.

'I missed you so much Eddie. It physically hurt.'

'I know, Y/N,' he looks up at you smirking, 'could tell. But I missed you too. Missed home.'

Eddie snuggles into your chest. Exhausted by the sex and blissed out in your arms. This is where he belongs, always. He's certain he'll fall asleep here for the night. The question he was going to ask on his arrival will surely have to wait til tomorrow. But it's okay, he's been waiting since October - so what harm is another day?

my taglist angels: @whoahoney@lukewearingbeanies @esme-viridian @elysian-chaos @munsonology@mseddiemunson @kreepja

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cremonamone · 5 months ago

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hi mona! i have a question for you and a drabble request if you are still taking those. what are your favorite monsters to write? and for drabble, i would love to read *literally* anything with an orc!

You're my first requester! Thank you so much! I haven't written a lot of monster stories yet, but I am working on a mer-person novel that I'm really enjoying. I've never written or read much with orcs, so hopefully this is okay! I may have gotten a little carried away.

Fem Reader X Masc Orc

18+ Only - Smut ahead!

Word Count: 1850

The Hunt for a Roommate

When you posted online that you were looking for a roommate, you really expected more university students who needed affordable housing and fewer weirdos who thought it would just be “really, really cool to live with a human”.

You try not to hold your breath as you wait for your final appointment of the day. You booked him last because you really weren’t keen on living with a big orc. No offence to orcs, of course, but there’s barely enough room in the one bedroom apartment for you by yourself, and the floors creak like old bones and buckle in a few spots like they’re made out of cardboard. A gnome or a fairy would’ve been ideal. Someone who could fit in tight spaces and not take up too much room, but the only gnome who showed up spent the entire interview trying to stare up your skirt, and you really, really, don’t want to be dodging that energy in your own home.

You only signed the lease in this shit hole because you thought you could handle the rent on your own, but things have changed and you need to adapt. So, you can move into the hall closet and he can take the bedroom. Hopefully he travels light and only wants to live here for the four months you’re laid off. Fingers crossed he’s a normal dude who just really needs a place to stay.

He knocks on door and it sounds like a hammer falling.

It’s so loud you hear the neighbour across the hall open their door and tell him to shut up. Not a great start. Still, you stand up from the couch. You made cookies, and they’ve cooled over the course of would-be roomie interviews today, but there are still a few left and he can have them.

The door always takes a minute to unlock. The previous tenant only had three, but you’re a wee bit paranoid being a human and a woman alone in this part of town makes people think you’re an easy target. You vetted every single interview today as well as you could without hiring a background checker, but you’re still stunned when you open the door: He’s fucking beautiful.

He’s gotta be at least 6’9”, and he glowers down at you from the doorway while your neighbour continues to scream from across the hall. You ignore her as you invite him in. As tempting as it is to tell her fuck off, you don’t want to escalate the situation outside of your home. Inviting trouble in is not a good idea.

He has to duck to get through the door frame, and he already looks displeased. He’s thick too, wide and chubby with a lot of definition. You point him to the couch and it sags a little under his mass, but he looks at home immediately. He spreads his knees and you feel the urge to drop between them and see what he’s packing under his jeans, but you shake it off and take the chair you set across the table. You pick up your list of questions.

“Help yourself to a cookie,” you say, and he picks one up and pops it into his mouth in one bite. His lower teeth jut out onto his cheeks, which have a little colour in them aside from the mossy green of the rest of his skin. A blush?

“Delicious,” he says, and you don’t know why but those three syllables make you cross your legs.

“Thanks. I’m a baker, so there’s usually some sort of baked goods around the house. What do you do?”

“Security.”

“Oh. You keep odd hours? I’m often out the door by 2am and sleep through the afternoons.”

“I work nights. Daylight hurts my eyes.” He gestures to the sunglasses hanging off the neckline of his muscle shirt. “Orcs are mostly nocturnal, which is good for warfare and bad for city living.”

“Then why live in the city?”

“I like it here. In my grandparents’ days, you could pillage, and fuck, and do and take whatever you wanted as long as you were under the command of a warlord. But that’s changed, hasn’t it? The instincts remain, but the opportunity to use them has been cut off.”

“What do you do with all your pent up aggression?”

“I fuck, and I hope for something interesting to happen at work.”

Your belly does a little flip. You set your paperwork aside and look him up and down. He really is stunning. He’s a comforting shade of green, his head is wide and square, and he has a hooked nose that flares as he sniffs the air. He takes another cookie and you enjoy watching him chew. You always like watching people eat your food. All the work you put into your craft becomes worth it as soon as someone else tastes it and enjoys it.

“These are good,” he says, and you melt a little at the compliment. “I work full time, so I usually eat take out. It’s nice to get something homemade.”

“I cook every day. I don’t mind making extra.”

“We’ll get along well.”

The deep tones of his voice warm you inside. It reminds you of a crackling fire, burning long and low, twigs snapping under the pressure of the heat. You want to feel his rumble inside of you, to experience a kiss from someone with a mouth that’s so different than your own.

“You have a crumb,” you say, and reach for the napkins you bought just for these interviews, but his tongue darts out to collect them in such a quick flash that you blink and it’s over.

“So, should I give you the tour?”

“Yes.”

“You’ve already seen the living room, kitchen, and entryway. So this is the bedroom.” You walk the twelve feet to the closed door and pop it open. You weren’t planning to show it to anyway, but there’s no way he’ll fit in the closet and you really need this to go well. Either you get cozy in the closet, or you back your bags and hit the streets.

“Looks like it’s occupied.”

“Honestly, I was trying to rent out the closet, but I’ll take it and you can have the bedroom.”

“Will you be taking the mess with you?”

“I’m a baker, okay? I keep the kitchen clean. I keep the bathroom clean. This is my... nest.”

“There are shoes on the bed.”

“I was in a hurry this morning.”

“That is not a mess one makes in a morning. You keep the bedroom. I’ll take the couch.”

“Why are you so desperate for a place to live?”

“A pipe burst in the floor above mine. This is short term.”

“Right.”

“So, we should both enjoy it while we’re together, right?”

You feel him at your back, towering over you, and you want to melt. You have to clear your throat before you answer. He isn’t... coming onto you, right? “Right. So you take the couch. I’ll keep my room. I’ll show you the bathroom.”

You open the door and step inside. Wrong direction. His body fills the space so your hips press against the counter top.

“How do you feel about a roommates with benefits situation?” The question pops out of your mouth before you even have the chance to think it through, like it got so overheated it short-circuited. He grins, like this was his plan all along, and his massive hands engulf your hips. He lifts you like you weigh nothing and sets you next to the sink, then pushes himself between your legs. It’s a stretch to fit him in there, but it burns nicely.

“Pretty fucking good,” he answers, then his tongue is on your neck, finding the spot that makes your toes curl, and he’s thrusting into you, firm but not hard enough to hurt, with both of your clothes still on.

“So the rent is-”

“Sounds good.” His hand descends to your pussy and he rubs it. You moan, long and loud, and he grins. “Sounds really good.”

His fingers dip into your top and he pulls, tearing in a long, messy line down your front so your breasts are bare. The cool air of the apartment hits them and they pebble. He descends upon them like a starved man. He said he said he needed to fuck to keep his instincts in check, but you hadn’t expected this level of attention from him. He worships your breasts, sucking on the skin while his fingers play with your nipples, pressing them down firmly, pinching them hard then rubbing them soothingly. His massive mouth envelopes one and he sucks the entire thing into his mouth, the suction so hard that you almost cum just from that. You grind against him, and his hands dip lower to grip your thighs. He makes quick work of your pants, ripping them off like they’re made of paper.

You gasp as his fingers find your pussy and spread it, and the warm air of the apartment hits the sensitive skin. He leans back just far enough to look at it, and even though you squirm under his direct stare, it’s hard to be modest when he blows on it. You buck under the warm sensation and wriggle in his hold. His hand slides from your hip down to join the other at your cunt, and he presses one finger inside. You have to stretch to accommodate just the one finger, and the burn from it is almost enough to make you come right there. Your head falls back. His face towers over you, grinning, as he begins to pump it in and out and rub your clit simultaneously.

You’re screaming, you know because your throat hurts, as he hikes your legs up and bends you in half, continuing to destroy your pussy with just one finger. Your climax builds and you come, but he doesn’t stop.

“Come for me one more time,” he commands, and your body reacts like it knows how to take an order, spasming and clenching hard on him, your vision going black for a long moment.

You feel like you should thank him. “I’ll make brownies tomorrow,” you say, somewhat nonsensically, while he helps himself to a towel from the drawer beneath you and wipes you up. You shoot up and grab his wrist. You’re too sensitive, and yet... “I want your cock.”

He chuckles, raises his hand to his mouth and licks your cum from his fingers, his eyes dark and haughty.

“We’ll work up to that. You could barely take my finger today. But we have time. This arrangement is just beginning, after all.” He lifts you like you weigh nothing and carries you to the couch, where he arranges you in his lap. “Rest, so I can fuck you again later. We have to get that pussy nice and stretched for me.”

You moan, your toes curl, and he stares down at you with a rugged sense of pride. The future looks bright.

#monster romance #monster fucker #monster lover #monsterbf #reader x orc #orc #monster fiction #mine #requests

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