#but god i wanna just rattle them stupid

[themanwhovibez]

Yeah, so, D-Pax has taken me by the ankles and dragged me off into the deepest pits of no escape. I am fully obsessed to this ship that I changed my Miroah wallpaper and if you know me, Miroah is literally my #1 😭

I am obsessed with this though and I would love any feedback!! Or your own thoughts on it, especially because the images I picked, I tried to make sure they fit the characters 🫶

Artists in order (their Twitter @s):

@//UniverseNira

@//Stttttt5907611

@//Velinxi

@//NamikazeNami1

Edit: The last artist was found yay!!

[shellshocklove]

brat two: i might say something stupid | joel miller

pairing/AU: joel miller x brat!female!reader – no outbreak

summary: joel is continuing to have a brat summer.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! age gap, enemies to lovers vibes? swearing, use of pet names, smut, brat taming?, dom!joel, some daddy!joel, manhandling, some light bondage, a little exhibitionism? a little dacryphilia, praise, degradation (whore, slut), some sub space territory, edging, creampie, unprotected sex (don’t do it!!), no use of y/n

a/n: ok, so a part two to this!! i’m giving reader a backstory in this so if that’s not your cup of tea and prefer the reader to be a blank slate, then maybe this isn’t for you. as always i wanna give a little shout out to @dustydaddyyy for always helping me when i'm stuck! <3 i know it's demure fall soon, but there's still some brat summer left, so happy reading! 💚

main masterlist / series masterlist / ao3

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 this account stands with palestine. the creator of tlou is a zionist, and the second game is largly based on israel/palestine. please, everyone who interacts, educate yourself about the genocide happening right now, and support/donate.

Joel.

Joel. Joel. Joel.

Joel Miller.

Miller. Miller. Miller.

The cicadas rattled in the breeze coming through the window of your childhood bedroom. It was hotter than Satan’s ass crack, and sleep couldn’t pull you under. The hem seam of your ratty sleep shirt was fraying, and you couldn’t keep yourself from picking at it – pulling at the threat.

Pull, pull, pull.

Joel Miller. That was his name on the mailbox, but he’d only told you Joel. Just Joel.

Yes, sir. Please, Daddy. Bye, Joel.

With a huff you sat up, your back resting against the headboard as your eyes rolled over the darkened room. The shadows shapeshifted before your eyes like ghosts, and you wondered if you deserved to be haunted.

It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours.

You could still feel the phantom stretch of his cock inside you, and your cheeks were sore from his spanking, but it was nothing compared to your thoughts plagued by him.

God, you felt crazy, like a little girl with a school crush on the teacher.

Except, you didn’t have crushes, didn’t like, or fall in love, with anyone. People had a crush on you, people fell in love with you, people liked you.

Biting down on the soft skin of the inside of your cheek, you ripped away the thin blanket covering your bottom half as your feet touched the cold hardwood floor.

The switch on your bedside lamp clicked as the warm glow seemed to scare the ghosts away. The ratty shirt fell over your knees as you walked across the room and flung open the door. A triangle of light cut the hardwood floor in two as you made your way down the hall and stairs. The slapping of bare feet against wood echoed against the tall ceiling, and eyes followed you from the faces on the wall.

Stepping into the kitchen, you were alone. Pierre had left right after dinner, and Eva had left early with her daughter. You didn’t like to keep them longer than needed, especially on weekends. Your father would pay them the same, anyway – and it was just you here.

You hated the other house. It was no place to live, it was a place of business, for politics. You hated this house too, but for other reasons – too many memories, plastered on smiles and lies. The dentist had told you to start wearing a night guard when they divorced, but you’d stopped wearing it when you went to college.

Grabbing a glass from the cupboard, you made your way over to the fridge. Your whole body felt heavy, your head rolling off your shoulder when something caught your eye in the backyard.

It was gone.

“Shit.”

An ice cube escaped the rim of your glass and split into a thousand pieces on the tiled floor. You pulled your glass from the dispenser in the fridge, and hunkered down, ice melting between your fingers.

With a sigh you watched the splintered ice vanish, dripping in an erratic rhythm that added to the small puddle on the floor. You didn’t want to feel like this. Why were you feeling like this?

You left the glass of ice on the counter– let the ice melt on the floor and escaped through the sliding doors into the backyard. The sky was bright with light pollution over the trees, and everywhere the buzzing of cicadas filled your ears. With a sigh, you fell into one of the chairs, the cushion stiff against your back as your eyes landed on the large oak. You trailed your eyes over the branches, the one’s you’d known every crook and cranny of when you were a child.

It was gone.

The small crooked, and probably dangerous, treehouse where you’d spent so many hours hiding away as a child. Not that they ever noticed, your parents, too busy yelling at each other to see where their daughter had vanished.

Of course it was gone.

Gone, like the happy little girl you’d used to be. And what had taken her place? A party girl? A mess of a woman hiding behind the disguise of a sharp tongue?

Jesus Christ, you needed to get your shit together. Distract yourself– pull yourself away from all the feelings you couldn’t control.

Shifting uncomfortably, you fished your phone from where it had drowned in the cushions. The bright blue light burned your eyes as you scrolled, pulling you from everything real to unreality. Plastered on smiles and perfect bodies, sunny beaches, and aesthetic photos. You handed out hearts like they cost nothing, and pretended you hadn’t seen your DMs.

Still, you couldn’t shake the thought of him. The way the weight of him had felt over you, how he’d spoken, voice rough and commanding, but still playful. It was like you were guided by a puppeteer when your thumb hovered over the google search.

Joel Miller.

You didn’t know what you’d expected – Joel Miller wasn’t a one in a million name, and now you were scrolling through every Joel Miller famous enough to throne at the top of a google search. But, you weren’t going to give up that easily. You moved on to Facebook. He was old, he’d have to have one.

Bingo.

There he was. A few years younger, his hair a little messy, smiling bright. His profile was private, and you sure as hell weren’t sending him a friend request, but something inside you screamed to know more about the man you’d let come inside you less than twenty-four hours ago.

You tried to click your way through his pictures, but there was nothing to see. Next, you tried the about page: Lives in Austin, Texas (this you obviously already knew)… born September 26th… Male… Single… You felt a smile tug at the corners of your mouth, as you continued to scroll... Works for Miller Contracting… And finally, his family: Tommy Miller.

His brother’s profile needed a lesson in internet safety. This man shared everything and all for strangers to see. You flicked through photos of neighborhood cookouts, date nights with his soon to be wife, the same graduation pictures of a girl you’d seen hanging on Joel’s wall.

‘Proudest uncle in the world! Congratulations, Sarah Miller! 😄❤️ The smartest and most talented Miller! 🙌’

Your finger hovered over his daughter’s name, curiosity gnawing at your insides. Shaking your head, you clicked away. You could own up to stalking his Facebook, and his brother had basically invited you to stalk, but his daughter? It felt like crossing a line you couldn’t come back from. Back on Tommy’s profile you noticed he also worked for Miller Contracting.

A family business.

Continuing your research, you clicked through to the business’ profile. The profile looked to be run by Tommy, with frequent updates on projects they’d worked on, from renovations to outdoor landscaping, to new condos, Miller Contracting had a broad resume, but the contact person was set to one Joel Miller.

A thought tickled at the back of your brain then, and your gaze flicked from your phone to the low-lit backyard. A smile you couldn’t fight back pulled at your lips.

The sun beat down on the men as they worked. A bright yellow dot in the clear blue sky. From your bedroom window you watched them, how they’d turned the previous green patch of grass into a deep moldy hole.

Convincing your father had been easy enough; he’d shrugged, and given his default answer to pretty much any request you had, which was a bored ‘Yes, sweetie.’ For years now, the rule of thumb with your dad had been: as long as you didn’t bother him and his busy schedule, he didn’t care what you did. 

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. As long as nothing you did reflected badly on him, and especially on the carefully curated image of ‘loving family man’ his constituents seemed to love so much, he didn’t care. The Governor of Texas couldn’t have his daughter’s bad decisions cost him votes, after all.

Your mother had always said it, always complained over her extra dry martinis, that your father only cared about one thing in his life, and it wasn’t his family. Your face soured as you thought about it. 

Votes. 

Your mother hadn’t been right about a lot of things in your life, but she had been right about this. Votes, and power. That’s all he’d ever cared about. It had been like that ever since you were a child, and over time, you’d learned to exploit that fact like you would a weakness, holding it as leverage over his head if he ever told you no, which he naturally never did. The agreement was silent, but clear as day; as long as you got your way, you would cater to his image, and behave. 

And you did; showed up when needed with a smile that hurt your cheeks, kept up his image, and in turn you got your way.

The swimming pool was just another ask in a long line of wishes. He’d questioned you at first, ‘You want to build a pool in the middle of summer?’ The pool you didn’t care for, it was the men who’d build it. You’d given your father your look, the one where you tipped your head down slightly, bit your bottom lip and looked at him with doe-y eyes. He’d had a landscape architect draw up something for you by the end of the week, and by Monday he’d had the city approve the changes to the premises. He’d given you a rise of his eyebrow when you’d pitched the contractors you wanted for the job, but nevertheless, he’d put his assistant on the job right away.

They’d arrived bright and early this morning, their shouts over loud machines pulling you from your slumber. You’d pulled your pillow over your head, dying to catch some more Z’s, it was summer break after all, but the pull of seeing him again was too strong. The excitement bubbled in your chest, and a satisfied grin spread across your face when you’d realized your plan had worked.

Joel Miller was in your backyard, standing under the oak tree with his hands on his hip, as he carefully watched over his crew. His work clothes fit him just as well as the t-shirt and jeans he’d worn at the club, but he looked less polished– his hair messier with a carpenter’s pencil tucked behind his hair. Your eyes trailed over him from where you watched from the house, how he moved about the site, helped his men when needed, evaluating every step, studying the drawings carefully as he ordered his men around with the same authority you’d come to know him for after the night you’d spent together.

If all of this went well, you’d have him again.

“Looking good, guys! But it’s a bit loud,” you shouted over the excavator, one arm raised to shade your eyes from the sun from where you stood at the edge of the veranda.

You watched how the men milled about, squinting up from their work at you. Their gazes lingered over your body, they weren’t subtle about it, and the little outfit you’d thrown together seemed to do its job, a short summer skirt with a matching top– it was hot out in the Texan sun, and you wanted to make it hotter.

“We’ve been disturbin’ your beauty sleep, princess?” One of the men spoke up, and your eyes narrowed at his use of the pet name. His grin was too confident, hiding his laugh between his teeth. You set your eyes on him and gave him a pitying look.

“Yes, actually! It’s hard work looking this good, but you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” you snapped back. A sound of snickering laughs from the men at their coworker’s expense could be heard through the yard, and you felt a saccharine smile cover your face.

“So, who’s in charge of all this noise anyway?” you asked, voice bored, when the laughter had died.

“You gotta take that up with Miller,” another one of the men replied, your first victim quickly forced into silence.

“And who’s that?”

The man nodded his head in the direction of the man you’d weaved into your web. He didn’t look impressed where he stood under the shade of the oak tree watching you. He had his arms crossed over his broad chest, the fabric stretching around his biceps, as he shook his head at you as you walked closer.

“Mr. Miller.” You couldn’t help the pleased smile spreading across your face.

Clasping your hands loosely behind your back as you pushed your chest out innocently, you slowly stepped closer, his jaw clenching tighter with each of your careful steps through the grass.

“We’ll try ‘nd keep the noise down f’ya until nine am, Miss, but after that we’ll need to use our bigger tools if ya want this done before the summer ends.” He kept his voice steady and professional, his southern drawl like soft silk in your ears. His eyes never left your face once, even with the deep neckline of your top.

Standing a little too close to him, to be considered appropriate for someone who you’d just met, your teeth caught on your bottom lip coquettishly. “Oh, I want you to use your big tool that’s for sure.” It sounded ridiculous, and you had to bite down harder to keep from bursting out laughing.

Joel didn’t seem to think it was funny. Something flickered in his gaze, before it hardened, eyes boring into yours as he asked you through his teeth, “Whatchu think your doin’, huh?”

You shrugged playfully with an exaggerated sigh, “I don’t know, Mr. Miller, isn’t it obvious?”

“Oh, ‘s obvious alright.” He shook his head in disbelief, and looked away for a beat, before his eyes found yours again.

“It’s so hot out this summer,” you continued your jest with a hooked finger along the hem of your shirt, tugging at it, “I just wanted something to cool down.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, “‘m sure you did.”

Continuing your game, you widened your eyes in an attempt at feigning innocence, “But I don’t mind breaking a sweat if need be.”

“’nd how do you like to break a sweat, princess?” he asked, putting pressure on the nick name his men had given you.

“Oh, I think you already know that, Mr. Miller.”

Joel’s eyes hardened as the flirty words fell from your lips. Shifting his weight from one leg to the other he raised a finger at you. “Listen’ up, brat,” he told you in a lowered voice, “Ain’t nothin’ more happenin’ between us, you understand? It’s inappropriate– you’re my employer and I don’t do that shit.”

It was almost too easy. Biting back a smile, your thoughts wandered back to the last time you’d had him like this; riled up, and willing to put you in your place. A slick wetness coated the gusset of your panties, already, at the thought.

“I understand, Daddy.”

With a sigh Joel turned away from you with a shake of his head, muttering under his breath, “You’re ridiculous.” 

You were, he was right. But it was so fun. 

A smirk tugged at your lips when he turned back to look at you. He wanted to say something, you could see it in the way he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his hands fidgeting on his hip, but he changed his mind as he shook his head again. 

Victory had never tasted so sweet.

All week you’d played a game of cat and mouse with Joel. One day you’d ignored him completely as you flirted with the crew, exaggerating your laugh at jokes that weren’t even close to being funny, and touching too many sweaty biceps to count. Then the next you never left him alone, buzzing like a mosquito in his ear asking all kinds of silly questions, slipping in an innuendo or two, and teasing him for a reaction other than an annoyed grunt.

He’d have to break at some point. You could see it in his eyes. He might play the annoyance up, but there was a softness to the way he looked at you. It was there– you weren’t making that up!

The sound of the juicer buzzed in your ear as you chewed on your lip. Your hand rested lazily on the kitchen counter as you stole glances out the window as you waited. Pierre was quiet as he worked, only throwing a curious glance your way every once in a while, as he mixed together the jug of lemonade you’d requested.

The day had scorched since early morning, and you’d had no choice but to throw on your skimpiest bikini. A smile tugged at the corner of your mouth at the thought – well, there was more appropriate outfits for this heat, but you didn’t want that.

What you wanted, was to get your brains fucked out.

You’d played all your cards right, but nothing had seemed to make Joel simmer over with a need to put you in your place again. In the need for a new plan, you hoped showing off your body to all his men while serving them a nice cold glass of lemonade would do the trick, hoping he’d get jealous. The pool had already started to take shape, and your time was starting to run out.

“Here you go, ma belle,” Pierre slid a newly filled jug of ice-cold lemonade down towards you over the marble, “let me know if you need anything else, yes?”

Nodding your head in gratitude, you lifted the jug onto the tray you’d prepared, “Merci, Pierre.”

Slipping carefully through the sliding doors you made your way across the veranda to place the tray on the outdoor dining table. The tray was heavy, and you moved fast to make sure you didn’t spill the lemonade all over yourself.

“HEY BOYS!” you shouted over the sound of the heavy machinery, waving a lazy hand at them, beckoning them closer like a siren. “I hope you’re thirsty,” you laughed.

A low whistle could be heard as they came closer. Eyes lingering on your skin, trailing over your body as they gathered around the table, helping themselves to the citrus-y delight.

“If this ain’t the sweetest thing I think a client has ever done for us,” Tommy smiled as he helped himself to a glass, “You mind if I take a picture of this setup? To post on our Facebook page.”

You shook your head, “Take as many pictures as you like,” you told him, but your eyes wandered.

Joel had hung back, walking slower behind the rest of his crew, and was finally walking up the couple steps to the veranda. His work boots echoed over the planks as he walked closer. He didn’t seem happy as he locked eyes with you, his eyes quickly rolling over your almost naked body.

Taking advantage of the opportunity, you poured him a glass; the ice cubes splashing as you poured, cold drops splashing and coating the skin of your exposed chest. Joel pretended he didn’t notice, but you saw the way he looked at you. You’d seen that look so many times, eyes hungry and desperate for something they knew they couldn’t have, shouldn’t have. The only difference this time was that you’d let Joel do whatever he wanted to you.

“Here, Mr. Miller–”

Your voice was cut off by the sound of a phone ringing at the loudest volume. The suddenness of the sound made you jump, spilling the glass of Joel’s lemonade all down your hand and chest.

“Yellow,” you heard Tommy shout into his phone.

“Oh, oops,” you said, your voice laced in an innocent laugh. Drops of sticky lemonade ran down your body, darkening the fabric of your bikini, and making your skin shine with wetness under the Austin sun.

Looking up from your body at Joel, your teeth caught on your bottom lip at the way his jaw clenched, his eyes running down your body like they were drops of lemonade. You laughed again, sugary sweet as you made a show of placing the glass on the table, spreading your arms like you didn’t know what to do.

“Y’need to be more careful, sweetheart,” Joel mumbled as he fumbled for some napkins from your tray.

You shook your head at him when he handed them to you, instead you ran a finger up your chest, catching the drops and sucking the cool drink from your fingers, slowly, licking up every drop. It was bold, and you couldn’t contain your giggle when Joel’s eyes widened at you. It was quick, the wave of shock at how blatantly you’d flirt with him like this, before it crashed into the shore with a stern look. The other men had to be looking too, you could feel the way their eyes burned your skin, but you only cared about one man’s warm eyes on your body.

“That was so clumsy of me,” you giggled, the laugh forced and too sweet, but it didn’t matter, Joel didn’t buy it either way.

“’m sorry ‘bout that,” Tommy’s voice boomed, as he hung up the phone, “It was the missus– or soon to be missus.”

“Oh, you’re getting married?” you queried, the lemonade soaking you forgotten now that the moment had been ruined. Beside you, Joel picked up the glass you’d tried to hand him, drying the sides with the superfluous napkins.

“Yes, ma’am,” Tommy beamed, “tyin’ the knot this Saturday in fact.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” you smiled, an idea popping up in the back of your head, “Congratulations!”

“Thank you, thank you,” he beamed, taking a big gulp of the lemonade.

“So…” You stepped closer to Tommy, leaning your hand against the table. Joel’s eyes followed you, you could feel it, so you sneakily popped your hips out, giving him a nice view of your ass. “What’s the plan? Big church wedding?”

Tommy laughed, “Don’t know ‘bout big– we’re doin’ one of those barn weddings, you know? Out on a ranch and everythin’, they got it all on those big ranches nowadays.”

“Really?” you smiled, “Which ranch?”

“Oh, it ain’t far! Only ‘bout a fifteen-twenty minutes’ drive from downtown. Pecan Grove Ranch it’s called. They even got these nice cabins on site, for accommodation– which is nice for close family and those who’ve traveled far. You know, Maria’s family ain’t from Texas, so we got lots of folks flyin’ in.”

“Is that her name? Maria?” you asked. The way Tommy’s face lit up when you mentioned her name made your heart squeeze.

“Yeah,” he nodded, “love of my life she is!”

“I need to talk to you.” Joel cut your conversation off while his hand snaked its way around your upper arm, tugging you lightly towards him. When you turned your head to look at him, one eyebrow raised, his face shifted into a deep frown. “’s ‘bout the tiles,” he grumbled.

A smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. Finally.

You excused yourself to Tommy, and let Joel drag you with him. Throwing your head back you watched how the rest of the crew enjoyed their small break in the shade sipping on Pierre’s lemonade.

Joel crossed the yard in big steps, making a beeline for the shed tucked away in the back corner of the yard. He pulled at the door harshly, like it couldn’t happen fast enough, and pushed you inside. The door to the shed slammed shut behind him and covered you both in a cool darkness. Your eyes relaxed as you adjusted from the bright daylight to the dim lighting – the only light coming through a small window almost completely overgrown with climbing vines. Joel’s grip around your arm loosened as he pushed you deeper inside.

Taking small steps, you looked around, eyes scanning over the room as a thought of how you couldn’t remember the last time you’d stepped a foot inside the shed crossed your mind. It was hidden away in the corner of the garden, overgrown in a tasteful way, like how you’d see in garden magazines. These days the only person who used it was the gardener, if the miscellaneous tools and garden machines were to be believed.

“Put your hands on the table,” Joel ordered, his voice a low hum.

Outside you could still hear the shouts of his men, laughter, as they lounged about on their break. Every one of his men had seen you step into the shed together, and the thought sent an electric bubbling feeling straight to your cunt.

“Y'got cotton in those ears, girl? Put your hands on the table.”

A shiver traveled through your body, and you had to bite down on your lip to hold back your smile. Finally, finally, finally. With your back turned to him, you shook your head slowly, daring him to put you in your place again.

And Joel took the bait.

His rough hand slid over your waist as he stepped closer. He let it glide across your exposed skin, the dried lemonade sticky as he teased you. His rough hand slid upwards, hooking a finger under your bikini strap, slowly, pulling at it before he unhooked it, letting it fall to the concrete floor.

“Aren’t you gonna behave, princess?” he spat out the new nickname. “Didn’t I teach ya last time what happens when you ain’t a good girl f’me?” The low bass of his voice ghosted over your ear and had your blood buzzing under your skin.

His rough hands continued to explore you, gentle touches over your skin, getting you worked up, but never where you wanted his hands the most. When he pressed himself against you, letting you feel the hard shape of him through his work pants, you let your head fall against his shoulder with a content sigh.

“No, Daddy,” you shook your head.

Joel couldn’t hold back his groan at that word. The gentle hands who’d explored your body, tightened across your chest, pressing you tight into his chest as he bucked his hips harshly into your ass.

“I think I did,” he spoke into your ear, “broke that pretty brain on my cock, didn’t I, and now that greedy cunt wants more, ain’t that right? Can’t get enough of this big cock?”

A breathy gasp escaped you when he bucked his hips against you again, and you shook your head.

“That’s what I thought.”

The speed at which he moved almost gave you a whiplash. He pushed you against the table along the wall, your hands coming down to brace yourself as he pressed your chest down and put your ass, covered only by your skimpy bikini bottoms, on display for him.

“Such a slut for cock she can’t be a big girl and ask for it– no, princess, you’re so desperate for it, you make me come all the way to your rich daddy’s house, bring my crew and everythin’ just so I’ll fuck you again.”

Joel laughed and you couldn’t help but squeeze your thighs together. “That’s ‘nother level of desperate, ain’t it?”

You felt a heat spread across your face at his degradation, but it just turned you on more, and Joel knew it. He trailed a finger down between your cheeks, pressing down to feel how you’d soiled your bikini bottoms in your arousal.

“But that’s just what you are, aren’t you? A desperate whore dyin’ to get fucked?”

The hand between your legs vanished, and you braced yourself for a spanking, holding your breath as the excitement grew, but the slap of his rough hand never came. Instead, he unhooked a rope off the peg board in front of you.

You resisted a little when he grabbed your hands, slipping your hands from his grip playfully, your face turned to watch how his face grew sterner. The tired, disappointed sigh it earned you made you smile.

Gripping both your hands tightly, he crossed one wrist over the other before he tied them together at the small of your back, and you let it happen. Under your skin, the anticipation buzzed. With nothing to help you brace yourself, the hard surface of the table pressed harshly against your naked skin.

“Hey,” Joel’s voice was suddenly gentle as he cupped your face and turned you to face him, “you remember our rules?”

A small ache stung in your heart. Our.

You nodded, “I say ‘red’ or pinch you if I want you to stop.”

A pleased grin spread across his face as he tapped at your cheek gently, “That’s a good girl, baby.”

His hand slid down your body, from your face down your neck, from your neck over your shoulder, and then from your shoulder down your naked back. “How’s this?” he asked, hooking a finger under the rope, “Not too tight?”

You shook your head, or tried to, with the way your cheek was mushed against the table.

“Words, princess, need to hear ya say it f’me.”

The softness in his voice when the pet name left his lips, made a fluttering feeling bubble in your core, and it was hard to fight the grin from pulling at your lips.

“Am I your princess now?” you asked with fluttering eyelashes, “I thought I was your desperate slut?”

Behind you, you could hear Joel let out a deep sigh. A finger traced small circles over your ass, making goosebumps blossom over your skin, before it hooked into the band of your bikini bottoms, tugging them slowly down and exposing your wet cunt to him.

“You know,” Joel sighed again, pausing to let the sound of his fly being undone fill the space between you. You almost moaned at the sound, pushing your ass out, desperate for any kind of friction. “I was plannin’ on bein’ nice t’you, but now…”

The blunt head of him pressed against you, running it up and down your cunt, coating it in your slick arousal, and you almost held your breath. The anticipation like a fist around your chest. Your heart drummed in your chest, almost drowning out the wet slick sound between your legs.

“I don’t want you to be nice,” you almost whispered, your fist tightening around each other at the small of your back.

“I know, princess…” he whispered back, and pushed at your opening, “I know.”

He was too big, the girth of him splitting you in two on his cock. It burned deliciously, and you savored every inch he gave you until he was fully seated inside you. Only then were you able to whimper out a moan, your breath finally released.

His hands gripped your wrists like a handlebar, something to hold on to, something to guide you back and forth on his cock. He pushed himself even deeper, releasing a deep groan in your ear as he leaned over you, the weight of him heavenly as he made room for himself inside you, his heavy balls pressed against you.

This was what you’d wanted. Just to feel him again like this.

“Shit…” you sighed, eyes almost rolling back into your head.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he whispered in your ear, “get a cock in you, and you turn into a good girl f’me.”

You wanted to push back, to give him something to prove him wrong, but you had nothing.

“Please,” you whispered, your eyes squeezed shut tightly.

“Please what, princess?” You could hear the smile in Joel’s low rumbling voice.

“Fuck me, sir,” you pleaded, “Fuck me, Daddy, please.”

“Oh, now she’s askin’ nice.” Joel pulled back and thrusted back inside in one hard thrust, pushing your body against the table, a line surely indented in your skin by now.

A whimper fell from your lips.

Joel started fucking you slowly, but hard, the table rattling with each thrust, one hand wrapped around your wrists to keep his balance. Under him you couldn’t fight back your moans, small content squeaks escaping you when he pressed himself firmly against your ass, burying his cock deeply inside you with every thrust.

“That’s it, slut, that’s a good girl,” Joel praised over you, “takin’ that cock so well, princess.”

The world started blurring around the edges with each thrust, a soft, warm feeling wrapping itself around your heart as he thrusted inside you. You were dying to touch your clit. His cock reached so far, pressing perfectly against your g-spot with each push. You were so close. If you could just touch your clit.

“P-please,” you mumbled lowly, your face scrunched tight as you clenched around his cock.

Joel grunted behind you and stepped away. You could almost cry, and maybe you did because rough pads ran over your cheek as he shushed you.

“No-no-no, it’s okay baby,” he mumbled, “calm down.”

“Please,” you tried again. Please let me come.

“I need you to do somethin’ f’me,” he told you as he guided his cock back to your ruined entrance, slick with want.

“I’ll do anything you ask,” you hurried.

“Anythin’?” Joel rubbed his cock up and down your slit as a slick sound filled the air.

“Anything.”

Behind you, Joel laughed, and pushed inside you again, making a big smile spread across your face.

“Alright, princess,” he said with a hard thrust, “what you’re gonna do f’me is when you feel like you’re close, you’re gonna tell me, tell your Daddy, alright?”

You nodded into the wood, head almost delirious with want, “Okay.”

“You wanna feel my cum inside you, don’t cha, want me to fill y’up to the brim?” His voice was so soft, almost soothing, as he fucked you hard.

“Please, Daddy, want you to come inside me, please.”

A grumbling laugh escaped Joel as he continued his harsh thrust – your skin clap clap clapping together as he hauled you towards the edge of your orgasm. It built deep in your core, coiling in on itself as he brought you closer and closer and closer.

“Joel,” you gasped, “I’m gonna come.”

Quickly, and without warning, Joel pulled out, leaving you trembling, and on the edge.

“No, you ain’t,” he told you sternly, “you’re gonna hold it.”

A rough hand smoothed over your right ass cheek, small taps to your skin reprimanding you as he rubbed his cock over the other, soiling you in your own desperation.

You felt like you were heaving for breath underneath him, eyes squeezed tight as you tried to stave it off.

“That’s it,” he praised, “that’s a good girl. Hold that orgasm f’me.”

Focusing on the way his hand rubbed over your skin, you tried to calm down and steady your breathing. It could’ve taken a minute or an hour, you didn’t know, but the feeling of falling over the edge of bliss fizzled out slowly. Joel leaned over your body, whispering praises into your ear, telling you how good you were for him. When you’d calmed down completely, you lifted your head to look at him, to catch his eyes.

Blown out and big, the warmth of them looked back, a deepness to get lost in. A small smiled tugged at his lips before he leaned down and peppered a soft kiss to your shoulder. It lasted only a second, but it made fluttering wings expand in your tummy.

When he pushed inside you again, your tied hands reached for his. His thrust came quicker than before, sloppier, as he chased his own high, his hand interlaced with yours.

“God fuckin’ slut,” he rambled.

“Takin’ that cock so fuckin’ good.”

“I’m gonna fuckin’ come– gonna fill that cunt up.”

With a hard slam of his hips against your ass, pushing himself as deep as he could, Joel came inside you with a deep grunt. “That’s it– take all that fuckin’ cum inside.” A warmth filled you from the inside as his cock twitch inside you, coating your walls in thick spurts of his cum.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he mumbled, as he thrusted his cum back inside you, making sure he’d emptied himself completely before pulling out, sliding his softening cock from your denied cunt.

“Joel,” you whispered, but he didn’t hear you, too busy with tucking himself back into his work pants, and pulling up your bikini bottoms, soiling them in his cum starting to leak out of you.

“What about me?” you asked, confused, as he undid the rope around your wrists.

“What ‘bout you?” he repeated, helping you up and turning you to face him.

A chuckle rumbled in his chest as he took in your disappointed face, a large hand coming up to cup your chin. “What?” he teased, “don’t like your punishment?” He padded your cheek and pulled away, picking up your bikini top from the floor.

“’f you’re gonna act like a fuckin’ brat– havin’ your daddy hire me to have an excuse for seein’ me again, when you could’ve just called, then you’re gonna get treated like a brat, you understand? You gotta earn your orgasm, and you ain’t earned yourself nothin’ prancing around half naked in your garden while I’m trying to work, princess.” 

With that, Joel threw you your bikini top, and you barely managed to catch it between your fingers before you watched him walk out the shed, leaving you half naked, as his cum leaked down the inside of your leg.

part three -> here!

hopefully this was okay? please let me know what you thought of the new part! a comment telling me your favorite part is always welcome, and my ask box is always open to chat <3 and thank you for reading!!

© shellshocklove, 2024 i do not give any permission to repost, translate, feed to AI or redistribute any of my writing, with or without credit!

[hazbinshusk]

blitzø x afab!reader. when blitzø sees you stressing over your workload for a certain demanding overlord, the imp decides to help you unwind by fucking the problems out of your "pretty little head".

for the incredibly patient 🎀 anon. 1.8k

featuring: unprotected sex, dom!blitzø, a totally sandwiched-in reference to hazbin hotel, and overstimulation because they're both petty as shit.

“I ever tell you how fucking boring your job is?” Blitzø asks as he flings himself down on the couch beside you, half-finished iced coffee in hand. He kicks his feet out over the arm of the couch, dropping his head onto the cushion beside your thigh. “Woulda thought you gettin’ a paycheck from the biggest pimp in Hell would be at least a little fuckin’ exciting.”

You sigh, rolling your eyes as you rescue one of your folders from under his shoulder. “For the hundredth time, B. I don’t work for Valentino. I work for Vox.”

“Riiiiight…” he nods mockingly. “And he’s….?”

“The Media Overlord.”

“The one with a flat screen for a head, right?”

You don’t bother looking up from your work as you sort through them in search of a memo you were sure you’d just had in your hand. Paper wasn’t as convenient as a tablet, but working old school meant there was no possibility of your boss taking control of it at any given moment because he couldn’t be bothered to email. “That’s the one.”

“Gross.” Blitzø comments idly, swirling his coffee above him so that he can watch the ice cubes rattle together. “D’ya think he has to Windex his face after eating pussy?”

“For the love of God, Blitz!” you complain, and he cackles beside you. You can’t help but snort a laugh after a moment, and his grin widens triumphantly.

Setting his coffee on the table – thankfully missing the pile of papers you have strewn across the surface – he sits up, planting a hand on your thigh and leaning towards you in a way you know he means to be seductive. “Speakin’ of pussy…”

You sigh again, rolling your eyes towards the ceiling for a moment before turning and pressing a quick kiss to his nose. He wrinkles it in response, leans in again in an attempt to catch your lips with his. He frowns when you lean back slightly. “Hey. Get your stupid ass face back over here.”

You smile apologetically. “Honey. As much as I love the ham-fisted attempts at turning me on, I’ve got a tonne of work to do. Vox just announced some bullshit anti-Angel tech we don’t have for the next extermination and now we’ve got to somehow invent it before everyone finds out he’s full of shit.”

Blitzø gives you an exaggerated, mocking pout in response, leaning closer to you once again and lowering his voice to a more intimate, husky cadence. “Want some help?”

You raise a brow, heat flushing your cheeks and blooming low in your stomach as he presses his lips teasingly against the side of your throat. “You got some insight on how to take out exorcists I should… know about?”

Blitzø grins against your throat, and you hiss an inhale as his fangs graze against your pulse point. His hand wanders up over your thigh, and you catch hold of it before he can dip it between your thighs. His palm is burningly warm through the thin fabric of your yoga pants. “Maybe. Wanna fuck me to find out?”

You scoff a laugh, cut off when Blitzø crushes his lips against yours. He pushes his tongue into your mouth, pushing you back against the arm of the couch. You find yourself kissing him back for a few moments before you pull away, pushing him back with a hand on his chest. “I’ve got work, Blitz.”

“And I’m gonna help,” he coos, his hand sliding up between your thighs again. You whine as his cups your cunt briefly through your clothes before tugging the drawstring undone.

“How exactly?”

“By fucking those thoughts right outta ya pretty little head,” Blitzø coos mockingly. “Now take your fuckin’ pants off.”

You cough out a laugh, the sound turning to a yelp of surprise as he rolls you onto your knees. He takes a firm, possessive hold of your hips and forces you up against the arm of the sofa. You brace yourself against it, thrilling when he presses his hips up against your ass. You can feel how hard he is, and he grinds his hips up against you and groans, grabbing a handful of your ass and squeezing.

“Blitz, I have to wo—”

“Shut the fuck up and just accept you’re gonna cum first,” he eye-rolls, and your retort comes as a soft, throaty moan as he slides his hand up between your thighs. He practically growls the next words, leaning over your back to press a kiss to your shoulder. “That’s my good girl.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Blitzø corkscrews his hips into yours in a mockingly slow, even pace, groaning as he bottoms out inside you. His claws are digging possessively into your hips, his tail curled around your thigh. You reach back with one hand to cover one of his, your fingers digging into the back of his hand each time he thrusts into you.

“Blitz…” you moan, a crease between your brows. You can feel sweat against your brow, on the small of your back, your body, your nipples tingling now they’ve been bared to the room. You press your forehead against the arm of the couch, eyes screwed shut. “Fuck…”

“You know what ya gotta do, princess.” You can hear the smirk in Blitzø’s voice even as it breaks with his own need. He presses his forehead against your spine, cradling it between your shoulder blades, and you shiver as you feel the sharp points of his teeth graze against your back. He’s been fucking you like this – slow and deep – for too long; you need it harder. When you make move to touch your clit, he grabs hold of your hand, pinning it against your quivering thigh. “No way, bitch. Say it for me… fuck, you’re like a wet fuckin’ silk…”

His cock brushes up against that sensitive spot inside you and your eyes roll back, and when his hair winds through your hair to tug your head back, you keen. “Fu—please, Blitz, please…”

“Fuckin’ finally,” Blitzø sighs, snickering as he finally increases the rhythm of his hips. He fucks himself into you hard, the sound of flesh meeting flesh joining the breathless little ‘ahh’s’ you let out each time he fucks himself into you, He releases your hand and it immediately goes to your clit, and you shudder at the first touch. “Satan’s dick, you needy slut… fuuuck, you’re tight… so fuckin’ wet…”

“S-sit back,” you say, urging his hands away from your hips. Blitzø’s pace slows, and you raise your voice, swallowing back some of the breathlessness. “Sit back.”

You can’t help but whimper as Blitzø pulls out of you, jumping as the imp smacks your ass before he does as you ask. You’re straddling his lap as soon as he’s settled, and he smirks cockily up at you, his eyes rolling back slightly as you lower yourself back onto his cock.

Blitzø clutches at your hips as you bring your mouth to his, and he moans into it as you slip your tongue past his lips. The imp’s tail entangles with yours, claws digging deep into your tender flesh as you fuck yourself over his lap. Grinding with each drop of your hips, you whine against his lips as your clit grazes against the line of his hips.

“Ho-ly shit,” he grunts, pressing his hips up into yours with each rolling thrust. Your head tips back as he leaves biting, teasing kisses against your throat and chest. “Fuuuuck…”

Blitzø’s hands wander to your waist, then your ass, grasping so hard at the soft flesh that you’re certain he’s leaving marks. The idea thrills you, and you dig your nails into his shoulders until he hisses, dusting kisses over the top of his head and the base of his horns before bringing your mouth back down to his.

The two of you are playing at the edge of orgasm together, each desperate, claiming touch bringing the two of you closer to release, gasping and cursing. When you cum, it’s with his fingers quick against your clit and his cock buried deep inside your throbbing pussy. You shudder against him, pressing your body flush against his as you choke out his name. Blitzø uses the hand still clutching at your hip to urge you into continued movement, bouncing you on his cock despite the way your moans are becoming almost pained with the amount of stimulation coursing through you.

His fingers don’t ease up on your clit at all, and Blitzø groans strings of curse words as your cunt milks his cock. He buries his teeth in your shoulder as he cums too, and your breath catches in your throat as the pain sends you back over that edge. “Fuck, Blitz!”

You collapse against his chest, rolling your hips disjointedly over his as shivers rock through you. The imp groans behind gritted teeth, head falling back, as he struggles to steady himself. Your cunt tightening around him makes him whine, his exhale coming in a breathless, shaking laugh.

“Okay, okay… shit, I get it!” He finally stops teasing your clit, grabbing hold of your waist and forcing you to stop rocking over his lap. There are tears burning in your eyes, and you shudder into his chest as you try to catch your breath. “I get it, tits… Fuck, you keep goin’ and it’s gonna fall off.”

You giggle breathlessly into the side of his neck, and Blitzø drops a kiss to your temple. “Thank fuck.”

He snickers, cursing again as he lifts you off of his cock. “Feel better?”

You let yourself fall back so you’re stretched out on the cushions in front of him, knees bent as you push your thighs together. “Dunno. Still got a tonne of work to do.”

Blitzø huffs a dramatic sigh, making a show of rolling his eyes.

“Never fuckin’ satisfied, are ya?” He knocks your knees to the side with the back of his head, flopping down on top of you. You laugh painfully as it knocks the air out of you, and he grins almost fondly down at you, folding his arms over your chest and resting his chin on top of them. “Round two?”

You snort a laugh. “Oh, fuck you.”

He leans up to kiss you, letting it linger for a moment, his tail tapping against your ankle as it twitches back and forth. “That’s the idea, yeah.”

[luvfy0dor]

Hi there! First of all I wanna say that I like your writing very much and that you're doing a good job! Thanks you for your hard work!

My requets/scenario is something about the reader (GN or fem.) who is sick/ feverish and due to that dehydrated and refused to take her meds. So the BSD boys (already fed up with your whining about feeling sick and annoyed and they just want to help you feel better blahblahblah...) take the pills and water into their owb mouth and kisstge reader to maje them take their pills. And maybe romantic feelings are already in the air yet no one had the balls to say something yet? And afterwards saying something like "Swallow" or "Come on, be good" to make th reader swallow?

If possible with Chuuya, PM Dazai ( i don't think one can piss ADA Dazai off SO much he'd act like this XD) and with someone else you could think of or like to write for.

Thank youuuu!

"C'mon, be good..." BSD x GN!Reader

╰┈➤ PM!Dazai, Chuuya, Fyodor ༉‧₊˚✧

Description; PM/Beast!Dazai, Chuuya, and Fyodor with sick reader who just absolutely refuses to take meds.

Warnings; Maybe ooc in Dazais part? I've only read vol.1 of beast : (, cursing

A/N; I started writing this yesterday morning and I just got sick today (update it was just allergies it went away after a couple hours) what a coincidence!? Also tyssm for the compliment!! Ahh it means the world to me when y'all like my stuff!! ♡

Chuuya Nakahara ੈ✩‧₊˚

Chuuya is a busy man, and when you refuse to take your pills, you're only wasting the time that he sets aside for you by being difficult. He's gonna take care of you, and you're gonna like it too. (Who wouldn't?)

Scenario ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

"C'mon, I'm not gonna sit here and listen to your whining. It's just a pill, put it in your mouth and swallow it!" Chuuya exasperatedly says, flailing his arms as he talks. The bottle of pills makes a rattling sound in his hands as they move around. You just scoff, keeping your arms crossed in front of your chest.

"Maybe, but it feels so weird going down my throat and I don't like it!" You say, your voice groggy and your nose sniffly from your cold. Your eyes were half lidded as you frowned at Chuuya. "Oh, and you like being sniffly 'nd having a headache?" He says with a roll of the eyes, putting his hands on his hips.

You thought for a moment. No, ofcourse you didn't like this feeling, but you also really didn't like taking pills. Chuuya had even tried offering the liquid medicine, but you didn't want that either because the kind he had for you tasted bad. You slumped back into the couch you were sitting on, huddling the blanket up to your chest.

You sigh before shaking your head. "No, I don't." Chuuya nods. "So take the pills, here." He hands you water and the pills themselves. You stared them down for a moment. They looked utterly massive in your palm and you could already feel the fish oil-y substance sliding down your throat. You gagged, bringing your hand up to your mouth. You groan.

"For God's sake, are ya gonna take it or not?" He mumbles. "You know I don't wanna sit here and waste time arguing with your stupid ass." He says, pinching the bridge of his nose. You smiled, knowing he really didn't mean it. "Oh, or what? What if I don't take it?" Chuuya props his head up on his fist while glaring at you.

"Or else I'm gonna shove it down your throat and make you swallow it." He sighs, hearing you snicker a little. "Great wording, Chuuya. Well then, hurry up, I'm waiting." You raise your eyebrows playfully. He rubs his face with his hands exasperatedly. "You know I'm not being serious." He murmurs.

"Aw, why not?" You tilt your head teasingly. "Why do you want me to?" You averted your eyes, not having an answer. You shrugged.

"Dunno, it's just...a very you thing to do, so I'm just wondering what discouraged you." He sits up.

"Well, because you're my..." He thinks for a moment. "Really close friend, and I care about you 'nd stuff..." He says, very faintly blushing while averting his eyes. Had you not been around Chuuya so much, it would have gone completely unnoticed, but unfortunately for him, you had seen. And boy, were you gonna let him know.

"Aww, so you DO care! And here I thought you were just....angry." You tease. He scoffs. "C'mon, you're the very first to know that my temper isn't my only personality trait." He gets up from his seat, grabbing the pill and holding it up to your lips with one hand, water in the other. "Take it. Now." He says, looking into your eyes as he's bent down to your level while you lean back into the couch cushions.

"Chuuya, I told you I don't want to." He pushes the pill against your lips some more. "You clearly do, all day you've bitched and moaned about your headache, your temperature, your runny nose, and your sore throat. I'm done hearin' about it!" He glares at you. "C'mon and just take it, it'll be over before you know it."

You shake your head and turn it away from Chuuya, bringing the blanket up to guard your lips. He sighs, so fed up. You watch Chuuya take the pill into his own mouth, filling it with water before he roughly grabs your face and smashes his lips against yours. You're shocked, both by Chuuyas bold action, but also by the feeling of the pill in your mouth, slowly snaking down your throat as he pulls away.

"Ya swallowed it, right?" His face is a little softer now, but still seeming a little agitated. You nod. "Open up 'nd show me." You hesitate for a minute before opening your mouth. He inspects for a second before nodding. "Alright...Jesus, that was so hard for no reason." He runs his fingers through his hair, fanning himself with his hat. "It's so hot in here too...s'not just me, right? Why're you being so quiet?" He says, looking over at you as he pants a bit, his heart beating loudly in his chest. You just stare at him, a bit awestruck.

"Chuuya." Your fingers go up to softly brush over your lips. "You..just kissed me. What do you mean 'why're you so quiet'?" You say with a soft laugh, mocking his voice at the end of your sentence. His eyes widen, as if he were completely unaware of his actions. Instead of blushing or trying to excuse himself, all he did was shrug. "Well, I mean I know you're in love with me, it's real easy to see." He says, a grin creeping onto his face, making you blush.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever.." you laugh. Chuuya seemed pensive for a second, examining you while standing on the other side of the small room.

PM/Beast!Dazai Osamu ੈ✩‧₊˚

PM!Dazai is absolutely going to get this pill into your system, even if he has to shove it up your ass. Brotha is determined, and he's not gonna give up, so kissing you to get it down your throat was absolutely not off the table. As a matter of fact, it was probably one of his first choices...

Scenario ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

You hoist yourself up onto Dazais desk, shifting around and making yourself comfortable. The soft glow of the lamp illuminating the room, allowing you to observe smaller details, such as the marbled pattern in the floor tiles. After a few seconds, you hear the door open, the sound echoing in the relatively open space.

The fabric of your best friends black coat swayed behind him while he walked. You watched him approach the desk, a faint smile on his face. "Here, I brought you meds and water." He says, setting the pill bottles down on the hard wood surface. He notices the grimace on your face as you pick up the bottle and observe it. "Don't worry, they're the correct ones. I'm not trying to kill you." He says with a playful eyeroll.

You shake your head. "No, you're right, they're correct I just...ew, they're so...big." Dazai watches your facial expressions change intently as you study the pills. He sighs softly. "You'll live, these are prescribed to help people, not kill them. They'll go right down your throat, I promise." He says, sitting in one of his chairs, crossing one leg over the other.

"Well yeah but..." You say, sniffling. "There's nothing smaller...?" Dazai shakes his head. "Nope, that's all we got, so either take it or don't." He shrugs a little. You just give him a small glare. "If you chose not to take them, I don't wanna hear a single complaint from that big mouth you've got." Your friend says, twirling his finger a little as he passive aggressively points at you.

You just sigh and sip on the water her brought you. "Hey, that's supposed to be for taking that medicine." He says, his furrowed eyebrows really displaying his expression of annoyance. You continue sipping on the water until it's gone and completely empty. You can almost see steam coming out of his ears after that. He quickly gets up, walking over to the desk, and snatching the glass from the surface, angrily marching out.

You knew he'd be back, he has never angrily marched away from you for long. You just assumed he did it for dramatic effect at this point. A couple moments later, the doors swing open and Dazai walks in, his pace a little less aggressive but certainly faster. After closing the door, he walks up to you, shaking the pills out of the bottle until one was in his hands. He put the pill on his tongue before filling his mouth with water and roughly grabbing the back of your head, pulling you in for a kiss.

You were caught FAR off guard. You had an inkling of a feeling that your feelings for your best friend were requited and not one sided as you previously thought, but now you were reassured. You leaned into the kiss, not even caring about the pill that was currently in your mouth. Dazai tilts your head back right before pulling away. "Swallow, got it?" He says firmly, his hand still placed on the back of your head. You nod right before swallowing the pill, suppressing a cough afterwards.

You deeply inhaled and exhaled seemingly desperately, almost gasping for air, considering your relatively sniffly nose. Once you caught your breath, the sound of your voice bouncing off the walls as you speak. "Good going, dumbass, now you're gonna get sick too..." You sniffle some more while blushing at the memory of Dazais action.

He just laughs for a moment, then shrugs. "Well, if I get sick I won't be a brat to you and refuse to take my pills, especially if you so kindly go out of your way to get them for me." You just scoff and roll your eyes. "Oh yeah, so far out of your way, fifty feet down the hallway is an utter journey, I'm sure." You reply back snarkily.

"Oh, it was." He says exaggeratedly. You just laugh a bit under your breath, examining the pill bottle again. "They better be miracle pills and cure you immediately after the struggle I put up to get them down your throat." He says, staring at you. "Well at least I know you care 'bout my safety." You give him a small smile, to which he reciprocates.

Fyodor Dostoevsky ੈ✩‧₊˚

Fyodor has so kindly offered to take care of you in your vulnerable moment of need, and he hoped you would be appreciative of that, but your unwillingness to take your pills does not really reassure his hope.

Scenario ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

Sniffles. Sniffles were all the filled the room the two of you sat in, you curled up in a blanket and Fyodor reading a book on a couch on the other side of the room. Most of the time, he had kept his distance from you because of your insistence on keeping him in good health. "Ugh, this is so annoying." You whined, rolling around in your blanket, your body language displaying just how fed up with this whole cold you were. You can hear a sigh from Fyodor, as will as the sound of his book closing.

"Well, y/n, I offered you pills and you have continuously refused to take them." He says, his face blank as he crosses his legs and rests his book on his lap. You just let out a soft whine. "Well yeah but....those pills are nasty, they're so big, I'll throw up before I can even try to feel better." You mumble, exasperatedly rubbing your face, pulling a bit at your skin. You can feel Fyodor staring at you from afar.

"Then I suppose you're not going to feel better as quickly as you potentially could." He replies, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear and re-opening his book. "Well yeah, but like...well, in my defense you weren't very forceful about it." You say, trying to justify your actions. His attention turns back to you again.

"Oh, did you want me to be? I figured I wouldn't be forceful or push it onto you because you're very close to me." He says, almost as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Your heart couldn't help but flutter the tiniest but, a small smile coming over your face. "Well, I'm definitely gonna be more likely to take them if you're a little more insistent." You mumble a bit, to which he sighs, setting his book down once more and grabbing the pill bottle. He makes his way back over to you, holding the pill up to your mouth.

"Go on." He says, waiting for you to take the pill into your mouth, but you just grimace at it. "Okay, maybe I'm just not gonna take them.." you say, gagging at the idea. Fyodor just shakes his head. "You have to. As much as I don't want to force you to, I want you to feel better and stop complaining." He says softly. His face matches his words, not a single sharp edge or expression to either. He was gentle. You groan at the pill some more, earning yet another sigh from him.

"Okay." He shakes his head before placing the pill on his tongue and taking some of the water into his mouth. "Hey, what're you-" you're cut off by Fyodor softly pulling you into a kiss, passing the water and pill from his mouth to yours. After it's completely in your mouth, he pulls away but tilts your head back by guiding your chin upwards with his pointer finger. "Swallow." He mutters, watching your flustered facial expressions. You swallow the pill and water with a 'gulp' and stutter over your words a bit before you can get them completely out.

"That was really your method of choice?" You mutter, hiding your blushing face with your the back of your hand. He raises an eyebrow. "Is that not what you wanted me to do?" You rapidly shake your head. "No, no! I just...I don't even know, thank you...for helping me take my pills..and kissing me, 'nd stuff..." You mumble, a bit embarrassed but so giddy at the same time. He just smiles a bit and rubs your back gently.

"You're welcome. You're an open book for the most part, y/n. Very easy to read." He says softly, before reclaiming his seat on the couch. "Now, I don't want to raise my chances of myself getting sick, or else I would sit with you." He says, grabbing his book again. "Yeah, alright...fair." you mutter, still a little excited over the whole thing. You giggle a bit to yourself and he hears it, he can't help but smile ever so slightly in amusement.

[summermp3]

"𝖨'𝗏𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗆𝖾𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝖿 𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇" (𝗆𝗈𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗇!𝖾𝖽𝖽𝗂𝖾 𝗆𝗎𝗇𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝗑 𝖿𝖾𝗆!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋)

→ in which you and Eddie become rivals after an illegal street race led to you breaking an arm and being locked up for a few months, what happens when he see's you again at one of the biggest races of his life?

Chapter one: DAY ONE

→ wordcount: 1.5k (chapters will get longer!)

→ warnings: Strong language, past childhood trauma, parental abuse, reader goes to prison for a little, reader crashes on her motorcycle, eventual smut, minors dni

→ Pairings: modern!streetracer!eddie x streetracer!fem!reader

not proof-read, sowwy i tired (take pity)

← Previous — Next →

DAY ONE:

It wasn’t like you had been in jail for years, only a few months…ever since you’d been caught at a street race, you’d dreamt of going back to do it all over again.

Well.

Maybe without the jail part.

The first thing you wanted to do, was get a drink. With very limited money to your name and an expired license, there weren’t many places you could afford or get to…A bar downtown called ‘Poor Richard’s’ was where you ended up, walking in the bar was full of biker men, couples, and soloists.

It would do.

“Can I have a vodka tonic please” your voice came out shrill, having not said anything all day? “Seven bucks” the bartender responded, sliding the glass over to you.

Giving him ten, simply telling him to keep the change. You downed the whole thing in a short gulp!

“Tough day?” Spoke a voice from next to you, a young man probably the same age is not younger. He dressed in jeans and a button-up and seemed to be buying a drink, but the thing he must’ve spent the most time on…was his hair.

“Something like that.” You turned to face him.

“Nice hair.” Your eyebrows move up in surprise. "Don’t diss the hair; some would even say it’s my best feature.” He tilts towards a group of young women and men as he says.

“It certainly is” You smiled, he smirked in reply.

“Want to come have a drink with us? Could use the new company.” After the bartender got him a drink, he turned to walk over.

“Promise you won’t kidnap me?” Stupid joke.

“I can promise, but I can’t speak for them.” It’s okay, he thought it was funny.

God, you need to learn how to socialize again.

As you and…whatever his name was, headed towards the group, they seemed to notice the new addition you made.

“Guys this is…uh.”

“Y/N..”

The next few minutes were spent with you greeting everyone, and then your eyes landed. Him.

“That’s Eddie” he reached his hand out, littered with rings and even smaller tattoos. Why had he looked so familiar? “Uh-yeah, Y/N” you greeted shaking his hand…rough upon your soft one.

“So mystery girl, where were you before this?” Eddie sighed, patting the seat next to him which you took happily. “Well, I’ve been…” all eyes on you.

“I’ve been out of town, I actually don’t live here.” What an absolute lie. But what else were you supposed to say? That you just got out of prison? Yeah, no.

“What town are you from?” Nancy asks a nice woman you’d immediately like upon meeting. “I’m actually from Seattle.” As if.

Chatter went by for hours, and laughing for hours, maybe getting friends wouldn’t be too awful. Eventually, people started leaving, but not before exchanging numbers to “hang out again soon” as Steve had put it.

That just left one problem, you don’t have an apartment anymore.

And eventually, it was just you and Eddie.

“Why haven’t you left yet?” You asked, sipping another vodka and tonic Robin had bought for you. “Why haven’t you?” He said back, turning to you with a rattle of his necklace. “I…I will.” You awkwardly smile.

His eyes squinted. “You don’t have a place.”

You do, you just really don’t wanna go back.

“Whattttt—ha of course I do-“ you tried arguing.

“No, you don’t.

“I do”

“I thought you just moved here.” Eddie tilted his head, “I still have a place.”

If you had to guess, you’d say Eddie Munson isn’t a fan of you. Although you couldn’t say why he might’ve felt this way.

“If you say so, I might see you soon yeah?” Eddie stood up. Walking away with not another glance at you, yeah, he definitely didn’t like you.

Taking a quick glance at the clock, 2am. Maybe it was time to go home.

Walking outside the bar, you found Eddie hadn’t gone anywhere yet and seemed to actually be waiting for you.

“If you have a place, let me drive you there.” He was calling your bluff. “That’s not necessary.” You try, “it’s the middle of the night, you’re a woman. I'm sure you can see where I’m going with this.” He wasn’t wrong, unfortunately.

“Okay fine, I will let you drive me to the street—“

“No, exact house.”

“What why?” You cross your arms over your chest. “Do you have a house?” He asks for what feels like the one-hundredth time.

“I already told you, yes.” Technically not a lie..?

“Okay, let me take you there.” He pulls a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket. “What if I don’t want you to know my address?”

He shrugs. “I don’t care if you don’t want me to know.”

“Aren’t you a charmer?”

“My mother used to say so.” He smirks, bringing the lighter to his lips.

“Oh yeah? She’s a liar.” You smile back.

Eddie’s smile quickly fell, “sensitive topic?” You say apologetically, “Just a little” he muttered.

“I know the feeling.” You attempt to cheer him up, not wishing to explain anything else.

“You can crash at my place.” He offers, going to turn around once again. “Eddie that’s really not necessary.”

“Just take the offer and be grateful I didn’t kill you and dump your body in a river.” Eddie watches as your face falters, and you take a step back.

“I wouldn’t actually do that, but you had to think if I would didn’t you? This proves my point on how dangerous it is to be out this late"

What a dick.

“I hate you.” No, you don’t.

“Aw, how awful. I’ll be sure to cry about it later.” He rolls his eyes, sighing sarcastically.

“Fine, one night.” You groan. “Good, that’s all you were getting anyway.” He smirks again. Walking towards the car park, you quickly catch up.

“So, where is your car?” The air begins to get colder and you cannot wait to get into a warm vehicle. “At home.”

“What?”

“I took my bike.” He gestures towards the helmet in his hand, how hadn’t you noticed? Maybe too busy staring into his eyes perhaps?

Yeah right.

He picks up on your nervousness, “Never been on the back of a motorcycle?” Eddie holds the helmet out towards you. “You’re driving, you need the helmet.” You decline the helmet.

“I’ve ridden many times without a helmet” so have you.

Deciding to just give up for the night, you accept the helmet. “Please don’t hit any bumps.” You ask, “That’s always the goal.” Eddie put his hair up in a ponytail, sitting on his motorcycle waiting for you to get behind him.

“Want some help?” His head turns in your direction, where you had just been staring at him for a few minutes. “Uh no, I just.”

“You promise you won’t kill me?” He laughs, a genuine cackle from the man. It made you feel proud.

“Yeah, I promise…for now, get on” he lets out a hand, helping you mount the bike. However, you don’t accept his helping hand instead you mount the bike yourself, arms latching around him.

“Done this before?” His tongue reaches to lick his lips. “Not exactly..”

“That’s okay, I’ll go slow” he stays reaching to slide in the key. “It’s more dangerous if you go slow.” You groan. “Obviously I know that.” Eddie shakes his head.

The rumble of the engine is nostalgic, a sound you hadn’t heard in so many months the rattle of the bike was a feeling that made you shiver in excitement.

Even though the ride was short, it was enough to fill you with glee.

Eddie pulled into an apartment building and parked his bike in the street. He thinks about offering you a handoff but doesn’t.

“Okay, rules.” You groan, “What am I twelve?” You ask.

“Don’t touch my stuff, don’t snoop through my stuff, and don’t break the first two rules.” Eddie slides the helmet off your head, holding it in his left hand.

“So many rules about your stuff, why? Are they cursed?” You walk towards the complex entrance, “you won’t wanna find out.”

You and Eddie enter the building, going up a few flights of stairs to floor five and immediately opening the door. “You didn’t lock the door?” You smile.

He ignores you anyway.

His house is cleaner than expected, with posters and bookshelves full of figurines and books. You sit on the plush couch, immediately sighing in pleasure.

So much better than prison mattresses.

“If you need me, come get me.” He points down the hall and you're grateful he offered and didn’t just walk away leaving you alone.

“Hey Eddie” he stops walking, not daring to turn around, but you know he’s listening.

“Yeah?”

“This means a lot to me.” No way you were about to cry in front of this man…

“Goodnight sweetheart.” Then he’s gone, you can't help but almost miss his company.

TAGLIST: @mykuup

[xhoneygirlxx]

Training Wheels

Eddie Munson x plus sized fem!reader

summary: two roommates in love never seem to work. or do they?

warnings: slight angst, mentions of insecurity and people being mean to reader. fluff. jealous eddie. possessive eddie. roommate au. modern au. idiots in love. friends to lovers. reader and eddie are 21+. y/n is not used (babe, baby, princess, sweetheart used). smut, 18+ only, minors DNI. slight dom/sub dynamic. unprotected p in v, reader is described to be on birth control. oral receiving (f). fingering. cream pie. sexual innuendos. swearing. mentions of alcohol consumption, reader is sober!! shitty writing and grammar mistakes.

*if I miss anything please let me know*

a/n: hey loves! I decided to make this post into a little series, this being the first of many to come. as you all know I’m not good at writing smut so please be kind to me! I hope you guys enjoy this little self indulgence piece!! I love you guys <3

I love everything you do,

When you call me fuckin' dumb for the stupid shit I do.

I wanna ride my bike with you,

Fully undressed, no trainin' wheels left for you,

I'll pull them off for you.

Walking out of the sanctuary of your room, you make your way over to the hallway mirror for one last makeup check. Running the tip of your tongue over your teeth, you check for any remnants of the red lipstick that sits on your lips. You check over the tips of your black eyeline to make sure they're still in place and not smudged.

With one last look you run your fingers through your hair, you head towards the door. Walking past the living room you see Eddie laying on the couch with his phone in his hand, more than likely scrolling on tik tok to pass the time.

"Hey Eds, I'm going out with the girls tonight. I'll probably be home late." You call over your shoulder as you collect your keys and purse from the kitchen island.

The sound of shuffling comes from behind you, the motions of your best friend pushing himself up from his slumped position. The nonresponse from the man behind you throws you off just a bit, quietly questioning why he hasn't said anything.

Turning around to face him, you have a hand back and forth to pull him out of his apparent stare. "Hellooo, earth to Eddie."

"S-sorry, what did you say?" Eddie stutters out as his eyes trace down the outline of your figure.

Rolling your eyes, you shake your head in faux annoyance. "I said, I'm going out for drinks with the girls. I'll be home a little late."

Big brown pools snap up to your gaze and for once the intensity of his stare holds something you can't understand.

"Whatever." He snaps at you pushing himself up from the couch, brushing past you to head to the kitchen where he grabs a beer.

The complete attitude change from your best friend rattles you completely, especially when he has never raised his voice at you over the many years of friendship.

Not wanting to let the little hiccup ruin the rest of your night, you grab your things and head towards the door.

From the moment the front door shuts, Eddie feels like his whole world has shattered. He wanted to smack himself for his icy demeanor towards you, for snapping at you for no reason at all. Actually he did have a reason but that wasn't the point. The point was you were his best friend and you didn't deserve the passive aggressiveness from him.

It's not like he could control his emotions when you were wearing that sexy outfit. Your breasts sat so nicely in that red corset crop top and the little pudge of your tummy peaking out at the bottom was something close to an early Christmas present.

The sinful fishnets that wrapped around your plush thighs were just mocking him, laughing at his hardening cock. Then that tight little skirt, God did he hate it. He hated the way that it called out to him, begging him to rip it right off of your body.

Those plump lips he wished to kiss for years, were masked in a red tint from your lipstick. It disgusted him how he imagined ruining it, smudging it on your chin with the tip of his cock.

Eddie was angry with himself for thinking these things about his best friend, the girl that's been there with him through think and thin, the girl that's owned his heart from the moment he met her, and how he so badly wanted to fuck the ever living shit out of her.

To make matters worse, you were going to a bar. A bar that was probably filled with gross pricks that would try to get in your panties. He had to sit with the thought of you letting them take you home, how you'd giggle at their dumb jokes and how you'd moan so pretty as they slipped the tip in.

The whole time you were gone that's all he could think about, jealousy rushing through his veins and the green eyed monster rearing it's ugly head out of him. He sat on the couch all night, staring at the wall as he let all the thoughts get to him.

He needed to tell you how he felt and he needed to tell you now. So he waited and waited until you'd eventually stumble through the front door.

Creeping into the front door as quietly as you can, you kick your shoes off by the front door and set your purse and keys down on the kitchen island. Walking over to the fridge you grab a water bottle, putting the plastic rim to your lips and swallowing the cold crisp liquid hit your dehydrated tongue.

"You're home early." Eddie says quietly. Jumping slightly, you turn your attention to the living room where he sits on the couch, not bothering to look at you.

Swallowing the last of the water that sits in your mouth, you release a small breath. "Yeah, we didn't really feel like getting blacked out." You laugh slightly and clear your throat when you realize he still seems to be in his mood.

"Plus all the guys at the bar were busted, so." You shrug closing the cap on your bottle.

Rounding the counter, you make your way to your room not wanting to piss Eddie off anymore. To your surprise Eddie follows you, heavy footsteps hot on your trail as you open the door to your room.

"So you didn't talk to anyone?" His voice holds a certain kind of heat, like he's waiting for you to say the wrong answer.

Walking over to your dresser, you bend over to open the pajama drawer and grab the first oversized shirt you could find. "What if I did? You gonna punish me, dad?"

When you turn to face Eddie you see that his jaw is clenching and nostrils flaring with anger. Although you should ask him what his issue is and match his energy for being rude to you, you simply play into it. If he was going to be pissy with you, why not have fun with it?

"I mean there was this one guy, said I had the nicest lips he's ever seen." Your voice holds so much seduction you could work for a sex hotline, you think.

Walking over to him your stare is alluring, pulling him right into your whirlpool just to spit him back out a dazed man.

"Wanna know what else he said, Eds?" You ask with a pout, "He said that he couldn't wait to see how good they'd feel wrapped around him." You dance your fingers up his tee shirt teasingly.

Of course this wasn't true but he didn't need to know that. The thing was you wouldn't touch anyone with a ten foot pole, not when your heart belonged to your best friend. With that being said, you often had to resort to your own hand to take care of yourself while picturing the beautiful man in front of you. It's not like you could do it often when he just happened to be your roommate but it happened enough that you felt guilty for thinking about your best friend that way.

You watch as Eddie balls his hands into fists, knuckles turning white with how much force he does so. You know for a fact that he isn't jealous, he's probably mad about your lack of stranger danger and wants to lecture you about how it could be dangerous to you. To postpone that boring ten minute ramble, you add more fuel to the fire just for the hell of it.

You bat your lashes up at him, biting your lip as a giggle seeps out. "Want to know what else he said?"

When he doesn't answer you, you giggle at his pissed off expression before continuing your little performance.

"That's okay, I'll tell you anyway," Lifting on your tip toes, you place your lips right by his ear, "he said he couldn't wait to see how tight my pussy felt."

You slowly let yourself fall back onto your feet, staring up at him with a wide smirk. Before you can enjoy your victory of pissing him off Eddie's ringed hands grip the fat of your cheeks.

"You're real funny, princess, but I'll let you on a little secret," Bending slightly to be eye level with you, he grins widely at you like a hungry wolf. "That won't be happening any time soon, wanna know why?"

He uses the same tone on you and it makes your legs clench together in need, the thin fabric of your panties soaking from the gush of arousal he's making you feel.

Nodding the best you can, you mumble a yes through your squished lips.

"It's not gonna happen because you and I know that cunt is mine."

The way he says it makes your heart stop. There's not one ounce of question, no hint of laughter or a joke, just pure seriousness. You furrow your eyebrows complete befuddlement.

Eddie chuckles loudly, chest vibrating from the volume all while you still try to understand what he's implying.

"See, this is why I was so upset earlier," One of his fingers finds the low neckline of your top, lightly tracing right where it sits over your breasts, "You put on this sexy little outfit. Made me s'hard, sweetheart, and then you left me all by myself. S'not nice, is it?"

You shake your head and his lips spread to show his pretty white teeth. "That's right, baby. S'not nice but you did it anyway." He pouts, feigning sadness.

"Then you come home and mock me. I should punish you for being such a bad girl, what do you think?"

The threat and the ache between your thighs makes you whimper and he laughs sadistically at you.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" Releasing his fingers just a bit, he gives you just enough room to move your lips to answer.

"Don’t wanna be punished, m’sorry." Your eyes begin to mist over with tears, the overwhelming emotions running through you ready to spill out right.

Jutting his lip out, he runs his thumb over your bottom lip smearing the pretty red onto your chin.

"Hmm I don't know if I believe you." Cocking his head to the side, he trails his eyes over misery that comes from your own.

"I swear I won't be bad anymore, j-just please." You beg as tears start to fall from your eyes.

To prove your point, you rack your nails over the growing bulge in his jeans. When a small moan rattles in the back of his throat and his eyes shut in pleasure, you take that as a sign to lightly squeeze it. The moment you do he hisses through gritted teeth, snapping his eyes back open.

"Get on the bed, baby." Not wanting to make him ask twice, you all but run over to your bed laying down at the head of the bed and let your head fall back on the pillows.

As he stalks over to you, he palms himself through his pants. The sight itself makes you wetter, causing you to clench your legs together tightly to quell the pulsing of your sex.

"Be a good girl and take your top of."

Leaning up, you scramble to get the article over your head just as he asked. Your breasts bounce from their confines, sitting a tad bit lower due to their size.

Embarrassment burns through you, anxiety rising the longer he stares at your bare chest and tummy. Snapping out of the moment just for a second, you pull your arms over your chest.

"I um, I'm sorry about all the stretch marks and stuff. I know it's not so appealing to have to look at all this so if you want me to put a shirt back on we can."

Your too ashamed to look at him, finding solace in the design on your bed's comforter. Out of the peripheral of your eyes you can see him moving towards you. Hesitantly he taps your legs, a silent ask of permission to have a seat. Shuffling your legs back just a bit, you give him enough room to sit.

The bed dips with his weight and the beat of your heart begins to go faster. His hand reaches out to you, his thumb and forefinger lightly grasping at your chin. Turning your head to look at him, you slowly move your eyes to where your head has been pulled to.

Eddie looks at you with kind eyes, the same ones you're so used to seeing. Brown eyes sparkling brightly under the low light of your bedside lamp.

"Baby, I promise you I love every single part of you."

"Everyone says that until it's all over and then they act like they don't know me because they're repulsed by the thought of their friends finding out they fucked the fat girl."

His face turns into a serious one, like he wants to jump up and fight whoever has made you feel self conscious.

"Well guess what, I love the shape of your body. Baby, I think you're the sexiest woman to have walked the face of the earth. You do realize you left me here with blue balls for over three hours right? Like I couldn't get rid of them no matter what I did."

You snort loudly and quickly slap a hand over your lips to hide the laughter that continues to spill from your mouth. Eddie raises his eyebrows in shock, grasping at his chest in mock hurt.

"What, you don't believe me? Well I will have you know that I have been blue balled by you over one thousand times in our friendship."

He promptly crosses his arms over his chest with a harrumph. You let the hand covering your mouth fall, now using it to swat at his chest with a bright smile.

"Shut the hell up, no I haven't" You laugh and he gapes at you.

"Um excuse you, yes you have," He swats back at you, "Why do you think Steve's mom's expensive hand towel went, huh?"

"That was you? Steve had a whole pity party over that thing, took him like sixth months to get over it." You gasp and he only shrugs.

"Not my fault I had to jerk off because you decided to wear that bathing suit. Besides I was doin' them a favor, imagine the horror on that woman's face when she found it dry from my cu-"

His sentence is cut off by your palm. You grimace lightly at the image he's painted for you in his words and it makes him chuckle under the weight of your hand. Then he starts licking all over your palm making you flinch back with a disgusted noise.

A belly laugh comes from him when he sees you wipe your hand on the clean comforter that covers your bed. When you look up at him with an unamused look, he only beams brightly at you with the hint of his dimples.

"As I was saying, I'd love nothing more than making the woman that own's my heart feel good. Will you let me?" He looks at you adoringly and you can't help but slip right into the comforting warmth of his eyes.

When you say yes, Eddie jumps from his sitting position with a fist in the sky. He pulls childish laugher from you as he continues to victory dance over your answer. After a moment he collects himself, clearing his throat before making a "very serious" face that only makes you laugh even harder.

Pulling his shirt over his head and letting his pants fall down to his ankles, he's only left in blue checkered boxers. Laying back down on your bed, you let your hands fall to the wayside so he can see all of you.

Tapping your knee once more, he doesn't have to ask you to part them for him since you're quick to do so. Settling himself between your thighs, he lets his eyes wander over the expanse of your body, the same one he'd dreamed of for years.

You do the same, using your eyes to trace over the ink that covers his chest, the same ones you prayed for all these years to touch. Your hand finds it's way to his face, cupping his cheek softly.

"You're so beautiful, Eddie." You want to tell him that he's so pretty you could cry but instead to decide to keep it to yourself, just for now.

He wraps his fingers around your wrist, bringing it to his lips and placing a delicate kiss on the same palm he'd licked only moments before.

"Thank you baby, but I think you're prettier." The sincerity in his voice makes butterflies appear in your tummy, all of them flapping about in joy.

The two of you stare at one another for a moment, letting all the words you never got to say come out with just your eyes. The unwavering love that the two of you have for one another spills into this moment and fills both of your heats with the love they yearned for.

You're not sure who makes the first move but it doesn't matter, not when his lips fit so perfectly with yours. It's soft and loving at first, the two of you trying to memorize the way your lips feel together. Then you let your tongue sneak out just a little, asking for permission to enter his mouth and he quickly obliges.

With all the love and unspoken feelings out, the two of you go at it like hungry wolves. The desire, lust, and want mixing itself into the moment after years of waiting. Tongues dance in sync with each other, mapping out the one place it's always wanted to.

Then he grinds into you and you push your hips up to meet his motions, whining into his mouth loudly. Using your teeth you bite down on his lower lip, lightly pulling it back making him groan.

"Fuck, you're so hot." He pants using one of his hands to snake up to the harden bud of your nipple, pinching it roughly before groping the doughy flesh in his big palm.

You mewl at his touch, pushing your hips up once more to find any sort of friction to help with ache of your untouched clit. Eddie pulls away suddenly causing you to whine and pout. Chuckling and shaking his head, he uses his hands to shimmy your skirt over your hips.

"Relax, princess, I just wanna get a taste of this pretty cunt. I promise I'll give you what you want."

You try to close your legs but his hips stop you from doing so. Leaning up on your elbow quickly, you look at him with wide eyes.

"You don't um-, you can skip this part." It's frantic and it makes Eddie pull his hands off of you.

"Are you okay? Did I do something-" He can't finish his sentence before your cutting him off.

"No you didn't do anything wrong, it's just guys usually skip this part." You chew on the inside of your cheek.

Eddie's eyes also go wide, comically so. "You're telling me, all those pricks you've been with never ate you out?"

You shake your head instead of answering knowing your voice would ultimately fail you. He kisses his teeth and blows out a loud breath. "What a shame, those assholes didn't know what they had."

You roll your eyes even though a shy smile begins to show on your face. Still hesitant in his actions, Eddie looks at you for reassurance that you're comfortable.

"Listen, I don't have to do this if you don't want to, but just know if you think you're doing me a favor by saying I don't need to go down on you is nothing but a crime. You'd seriously be depriving me of the one thing on my bucket list."

The apples of your cheeks round even more with how hard your cheesing. Leaning up, you pull him into a soft kiss before laying back. Letting your thighs back open, you look up at him challenging.

"Show me what you got, big boy."

Smiling ecstatically, he shimmies himself down onto his stomach right between your legs. Using both hands he grabs at your fishnets, right where they sit over your center, and rips them making a large hole for himself.

Before you can chastise him for ruining your favorite tights, he peaks up over the hill of your belly, "I'll buy you another pair."

Going back down to his place, he runs his finger tip over your thong covered slit. You jolt from the small amount of pressure of his finger making him stifle a laugh.

"Jesus, you're soaking." He says quietly while still running back and forth over your dampened panties.

Pulling them to the side, he pulls the fat of your lips apart to get a good look at your glistening sex. When he runs the tip of his tongue from your hole to your clit, you lift your hips once more.

Wrapping his arms around your thighs, he keeps you in your place against the best. He does the same thing again but this time he uses his whole tongue.

"You taste s'good, s'my new favorite meal." It's muffled due to the cushion of your thighs but you still hear it.

Sobbing in need, you try to shimmy yourself into his touch. Getting the message, he dives back in shoving the warm muscle right into your tight hole.

Flicking his tongue in and out of you, he removes one of his hands from your thighs and pulls it back down to your cunt, using his thumb to swirl around your aching clit.

"S-shit, just like that." You encourage him, moaning even louder when he switches his tongue and fingers.

With two of his fingers now filling you up, crooked just right and his tongue circling around your clit, you feel the burn in your belly. When he hits the sponge spot you can't reach yourself, you all but scream out in euphoria.

Pulling off your bundle of nerves with a pop, he looks up at you with a Cheshire Cat grin.

"Is that the spot, baby? S'it feel good when I hit right there?"

You can't answer him, too lost in the feeling of his fingers. You toss your head back and forth, babbling and moaning from the feeling.

"Awe, I haven't even fucked you yet and I got you all dumb. Isn't that right, honey? I got you stupid just from my two fingers?" His voice is cocky and it makes you clench around him harder than before.

"Y-yes, don't s-stop. Please don't stop." Your voice trembles and cracks but you don't care.

Doing as you asked, Eddie pulls your clit back into his mouth and pumps his fingers even faster into you. Your getting closer and closer to the edge, toeing right at the finish line of your orgasm.

Your hand finds it's way to the back of Eddie's head, pulling the curly hair at the roots. A loud moan comes rips right out of his chest, vibrating your clit that's he sucks on.

That's all it takes for your toes to curl and your back arch off the bed. Eddie's name falls off your lips like a sacred prayer until you can't speak anymore. You're completely catapulted into cloud nine, floating high up above in pure bliss.

Eddie's voice pulls you back into reality, helping you come back into your body where your bones have completely melted into your bed.

Now leaning over you, Eddie pushes your sweat soaked hair out of your face and places delicate kisses on your wet skin.

"You did so good for me, honey. Such a good girl for me." He's gentle when he speaks and it calms the erratic beat of your heart.

"Kiss?" You rasp out and he gives in with a small snort at the mess you've become.

Pulling away quicker than you'd like, he looks down at you with a dopey smile.

"You feelin alright?" Nodding you push your hips back up to meet his covered shaft, and he laughs breathlessly. "Alright, alright, I'm gettin' there."

You giggle up at him and he's quick to peck your lips once more.

"You're so fuckin' pretty when you laugh." It's so soft, like he's letting you in on a secret no one else knows and in that moment you melt completely.

When he leans back on his haunches, he begins to look around your room and you realize what he must be searching for.

"I'm clean and I have the iud, so if you're comfortable you don't have to use a condom." The moment you finish your statement Eddie closes his eyes tightly, scrunching his face up like he's pained.

"Sweetheart, you can't say things like that unless you want me to blow my load right now." Opening his eyes, he looks at you with a straightest face.

You clap your hands over your cheeks as you burst with laughter. "I didn't even say anything!" You exclaim.

Rolling his eyes with a scoff, he begins to shimmy his boxers down his legs. "I didn't even say anything, shut up." He mocks throwing his boxers to the floor.

Leaning over you once again, he uses on arm that's he's bracing himself with to line himself up to your hole. Guiding the tip of his cock through your folds, he swirls your wetness around before nudging the entrance.

"Once we do this, we can't go back to being just friends." He gazes at you trying to catch any hint of hesitation from you.

Instead you smile fondly at him, "I don't want to go back to being just friends."

His lips stretch into a smile and his eyes sparkle with warmth. "Good because I don't think I'd be able to after this."

Going ever so slowly, he pushes himself into you causing you to gasp at the intrusion. You've had sex before but Eddie is bigger than anyone you've ever had, the stretch from him is unlike anything you've ever felt.

Using his free hand, he swirls your clit to help with any uncomforting feelings you feel. "I know, baby, you can take it." The reassurance causes a spark to run through your veins.

Pushing himself all the way in, he waits to start moving so you can get accustom to him. When you give him a nod, he begins to pump into you at a faster pace than before. Looking down at you, he watches as your mouth falls open into the perfect O shape.

"Fuck, you feel so good. Better than I could have imagined." His words make you clench around him and he whimpers loudly from the feeling.

Eddie pushes your thighs up to your tummy causing him to go even deeper, hitting that sweet spot only he can find.

"Oh my God." You cry out loudly and Eddie lets a breathless laugh fall from his lips.

"M'not God, baby, but I'll shit-, I'll take it as a compliment."

"F-faster Eds, please. Wanna cum, wanna cum s'bad." Your eyes begin to prick with tears with how good you feel.

Eddie obliges, thrusting faster than before. The slapping of skin and the squelch of your wet cunt fill your room. The pretty moans and whimpers that fall from the man on top of you ring out in your ears and in this moment you wish you could record them.

"You take me so well, s'like you're made for me."

You can't say anything, too wrapped up in the live wire that you've become. The rubber band in the pit of your stomach is pulling tighter and tighter with every pump of his cock, pushing you closer and closer to your release.

"This pretty cunt is mine. Say it sweetheart, say it's- fuck, say it's mine." Eddie demands.

"S'yours, it's yours, Eds." You cry.

Removing one of his arms that sit next to your head, he goes back to thumbing at your clit causing you to grip onto him harder.

"This body, those lips, your heart, they're mine. Say you're mine, baby. I'm all yours, have been from the beginning, now say I'm yours." It's not a demand but more of a plea.

Your mind is reeling, the feeling of Eddie is everywhere and your heart has finally found it's rightful place with it's rightful owner.

"It's all yours, s'all yours. Always has been." You shout as tears begin to roll down your face. "I'm gonna cum, m'gonna cum. Want you to cum too, Eds, want it inside me."

"Yeah, want me to fill you up? Want my cum to drip out of you so everyone knows who you belong to?" He grits out and that's all it takes for you to wail.

You release around him, gripping his cock tightly as you gush around him. Eddie isn't too far behind you, spilling his warm seed inside of you.

With one final grunt and thrust, Eddie collapses on top of you. The two of you sit for a moment, allowing yourselves to catch your breathing. Pushing himself up on his knees, he slowly pulls out of you causing the two of you to hiss out at the same time.

He sits for a moment watching his spend fall from your still clenching hole before pushing it back in with his fingers. When he's done with that, he leans over the side of your bed and picks of his shirt and wipes off the mess between your legs.

"Please do not tell me you're using your shirt to clean cum off of me." You deadpan as you stare at the ceiling.

Eddie snorts using the now soiled shirt to wipe himself off. "I mean I could use Mrs. Harrington's-"

"Absolutely not." You shout, pushing yourself up balancing on the palms of your hands.

The two of you fall into a fit of giggles, the fuzziness of your afterglows clearly in effect. After they die down, the two of you sit in silence unsure of what comes next.

Moving your legs to the side of your bed, you push yourself up from the bed. "I'm going to go shower but if you'd like, you're more than welcome to join, lover boy." You announce over your shoulder, picking up the discarded sleep shirt from before.

"Oh no, it's- I'll just stay." He stutters nervously and a part of you wants to tease about where his confident side went.

"Suit yourself," You shrug, "but just know you'll be missing this." Picking up the back part of your skirt, you show him your fishnet and thong covered ass.

When you look back over your shoulder you see him with a fresh coat of pink colored flush coating his cheeks, staring unbashful wide eyed at your behind.

Feeling like you haven't teased him enough, you shimmy your backside causing it to ripple in movement. "Well, I guess I'll be on my way." You say as you walk towards the door.

Springing from the bed, Eddie wraps you in a bearlike hug from behind. "Nuh uh, I have to come with you now."

Pushing back on him with your rear, you continue to shake your ass against his hardening length. His hand cracks down hard on the doughy flesh making you squeal in shock.

"Fuck I love this ass. Can't wait to see you do that under the water." He teases biting his tongue.

Rolling your eyes affectionately, you place a kiss to his lips. "Whatever my baby wants, my baby gets."

Turning back on your heel, you pull him by the arm guiding you to the bathroom with you.

"Hell yeah I'm your baby," He pumps his fist in the air then clears his throat quickly to play off his dorky celebration. "I mean you might have to let everyone know cause if I do it, it won’t be pretty.”

"Alright Rocky Balboa, lets get in this shower so I can so you what it looks like from the back."

Thank you all for reading! love you all <3

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[juyeonszn]

I WANNA SHOW YOU OFF

PAIRING ju haknyeon x f!reader

WORD COUNT 1.65k

GENRES smut

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, idol!juhak and non-idol!reader, stupid man not getting the hint, jealous juhak 🤭, DOM JUHAK !!!! this deserves its own warning phew, marking, no foreplay bc we ball like steph curry, little bit of exhibitionism but also not really, unprotected sex, sex against a wall?? standing upright?? what is that position called, creampie lol

SUMMARY you hated when men flirted with you, but god if it didn’t result in such a thrilling experience.

MORE im actually yelling like no way i’ve done 9 of these…. each time a fawntober fic goes up i rattle my brain around in my head to make sure it’s not empty 😭 ANYWAYS!!! if u enjoyed, please reblog <3

PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs @itsbeeble @zzoguri

You couldn’t wait to get out of here.

Your feet were starting to ache from the uncomfortable heels you were wearing. Your faux smile could only handle staying on your face for so long. Your head was throbbing from all of the superficial conversations. You were just about ready to crash.

That was the thing about being the girlfriend of a successful idol, you had to accompany him to these company parties despite everyone being so fake. The only genuine people were the idols themselves. All of the higher ups and staff members were just too vain and shallow minded, you could hardly talk to them without feeling like you’d lost multiple brain cells.

To be fair, you weren’t required to attend these. Haknyeon technically wasn’t even supposed to have a girlfriend, for the sake of maintaining his image for the fans. But everyone at his company knew of your existence and he liked having the excuse to parade you around like a little trophy.

His group members often teased him for being the first to get into a relationship. The two of you had been friends way before he even began idol training and preparing to debut. During that time, you’d lost touch, thanks to his rigorous training process and dedication to his craft. But a couple years into the limelight and you found your way back to each other. Fate was a funny concept.

You were currently standing at a high-top table, mindlessly chatting with some guy from the PR department. Haknyeon had disappeared to grab you some drinks to kill time before you could finally leave. Sunwoo stayed back to keep you occupied while he was gone, but at some point, you heard Eric calling for him and he, too, had wandered off. You kind of wished you went with him, now stuck with this random man you didn’t know.

“You’re really pretty, Y/N,” the guy says, smiling at you. “Haknyeon is very lucky.”

You laugh awkwardly, thanking him for the compliment. He kept inching closer to you, making it palpable that he was flirting in spite of his awareness towards your relationship. The dude clearly couldn’t take a hint, oblivious to your uncomfortability. You didn’t want to be rude, though. These were the people who worked with your boyfriend on a near daily basis.

Where the hell was Haknyeon?

“Does he treat you well?” He asks, clearly steering the conversation in a specific direction. You know what he’s aiming at, but you pretend to be ignorant to his attempts.

“He’s an exceptional boyfriend, actually. He treats me like a princess.” You state, eyes darting around the large event hall in search of said boyfriend. If he didn’t come to your rescue soon, you feared you’d say something worthy of putting his career on the line.

“If that’s truly the case, why is he nowhere to be found? How could such a good partner leave his girlfriend all alone like this?” The gaslighting is hilarious. The fact that this guy genuinely felt he was so much better than Haknyeon, that he was much more attractive, was laughable. He sincerely thought he was powerful enough to come between your secure, loving relationship.

“Here you go, baby,” a drink is placed in front of you, a kiss left on your temple. “What are you and Seojun talking about?”

Haknyeon’s arm wraps snugly around your waist. To anyone else, he’d look normal. He was remaining neutral, lips pulled into a thin line but curved at the ends so it appeared that he was being nice. But you knew otherwise. You knew this calm was just a facade to hide how pissed off he really was. His jealousy wasn’t because he didn’t trust you. His jealousy was because he didn’t trust others.

Namely Jung Seojun, the PR department’s resident fuckboy.

You glance up at your boyfriend, surprised there wasn’t any drool rolling down your chin. You couldn’t help but be drawn into the darkness of his eyes and his clenched jaw. The best part of this was what lies ahead of you once you get home. Maybe this night wasn’t a total bust.

“Oh. Um. Just, you know, the usual pleasantries…” This dude was a shitty liar. He was fortunate that he hadn’t actually made a move on you, lest he wanted to keep his job. Ju Haknyeon didn’t play around when it came to you, the love of his life.

Thankfully, you don’t stay at the party much longer. He tried to keep his cool until it was deemed acceptable to make his exit, but at a certain point, he just couldn’t anymore. The drive home wasn’t uncomfortable, but there was a thick tension filling the atmosphere. If it weren’t for the driver in the same car, you’re sure his hands would’ve been all over you.

So, the moment you step through the threshold of the dorms, door barely locked, Haknyeon’s pinning you to the surface. His lips are searing on your own, rough but soft all at once. His fingers don’t know where they want to rest, first tangled in your hair and then digging into your hips only a second later. Your head is dizzy, spinning around a mantra of his name and nothing else.

He bunches up the fabric of your dress, pulling back slightly to catch his breath. “Who the hell did he think he was? Talking to my pretty girl like he was deserving of her presence?”

“Hak…” You sigh, his mouth trailing down the side of your neck. He nips and sucks at the base, and then again where it meets your jaw. You hated when men flirted with you, but God if it didn’t result in such a thrilling experience. Your regularly sweet, gentle boyfriend becoming someone nearly unrecognizable drove you crazy.

“Hmm?” His hands hook under your thighs, picking you up so you can wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. You can feel him this way, already so hard and ready for you. You don’t think you can handle waiting for all the foreplay, your entire body tingling with want and desire.

“Need you to fuck me,” you whine, head lolling to the side when he sucks at that particularly sensitive area on your throat. “Want you so bad…”

“Yeah, princess? Gonna fuck you so good that you’ll be ruined for anyone else. No one can give it to you like I do.” He chuckles into your skin, pushing your dress up further and kissing your shoulders after the straps have slid off. Ju Haknyeon might actually be the death of you.

That was your favorite thing about sex with him. He was so uncharacteristically cocky, so uncharacteristically aggressive in the way he manhandled you. You moan when he shoves aside your underwear, undoing his slacks enough to slip his cock free. He presses into you slowly, forehead falling to your shoulder with a groan.

One of his hands comes up to fist at your hair, yanking back so he can bite at your jugular and exposed chest some more. He thrusts up into your cunt with what feels like ease in spite of your walls squeezing him. His hips snap up and meet your ass with every kiss of his cock to that spongy spot deep inside of your pussy. Everything is moving too fast, but not fast enough at the same time.

“W-What if someone comes home?” You gasp, fingers getting lost in the hair at the nape of his neck. As much as you were enjoying this, you don’t know what you’d do if one of his members walked in on you. For sure, you’d be mortified, unable to show your face around the dorm ever again.

“Who cares? Let them see how well you’re taking it,” he mutters, sucking in your supple skin and ensuring bruises are left in his wake. “I should let everyone witness how good I fuck you, right baby? Marking you all up so the world knows your mine.”

A loud moan rips from your vocal cords, his cock so deep inside of you that you’re starting to see stars. Haknyeon grins against your sternum knowing that you’re enjoying this as much as he is. You wanted him to stake his claim on your body, wanted anyone who could see to know that you were his. Even the way he fucked into you had that same purpose, like his dick was meant to be there. It was almost as if your cunt was acclimating to the shape of it.

“Fuck, feels so so good, Hak…” You whine, lower half squirming when that knot in your stomach is about to unravel. Your toes curl and your back arches off of the door, legs spreading wider in an attempt to suck him in further. “I’m gonna— oh god— I’m—”

You don’t even finish your sentence, your orgasm washing over you without a moment’s notice. The feeling of your cunt fluttering around his cock has Haknyeon groaning, twitching and spilling into you seconds later. He fucks his own release back inside of you, teeth sinking into your collarbone to steel himself.

The two of you stay like that for a minute, catching your breaths in spite of his cum beginning to leak out of you. He kisses the crown of your sweaty forehead. “You did so well, princess.”

Just like earlier, you’re interrupted before you can reply, the sound of keys jingling on the other side of the door. You share a look of terror, scrambling to his room so you don’t get caught. You both flop onto his bed in a fit of giggles, recalling how he’d said he didn’t care who saw you in such a compromising state.

“You’re all talk, aren’t you?” You tease.

“Oh, just you wait, baby,” he shakes his head, moving to hover over you. “I’ll make you regret that you said that.”

© juyeonszn. do not steal, claim, or repost.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Nobody's Girl - Chapter Eight.

Fuck it, it's Friday, I'm feeling generous, have another chapter! Enjoy, besties!

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven

Taglist - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed

Words - 3,145

Warnings - Adult content throughout, minors DNI!

Hundreds of times. Hundreds? She didn’t know why, when infidelity was infidelity, but having the assumption that he’d only partook of a few extra marital dalliances shattered by the fact that it had been over a hundred women throughout the eighteen-year span of his marriage, was suddenly so much worse to bear. Especially when he’d surmised it as “a few” when confessing that to her.  

Hundreds was far from few. 

Not really knowing what to do or where to go, she wandered through the rooms, hearing her name called eventually when she got to the sprawling lounge. 

“Dolly, hey. You alright?” Greta asked gently, placing a hand on her shoulder. She turned, the woman feeling her heart sink. “No, you aren't. Come on, come here.” She let herself be pulled into the hug, crying further, feeling tumultuous inside. “Scared, huh, that he’ll do the same thing to you.” 

“No... maybe... oh, god, I don’t know,” she sniffed, pulling back, thanking Greta for the handkerchief she offered. “He says it’s different with me, that he hasn’t cheated and doesn’t plan on doing so either. Am I stupid to believe that? When he told me he’d been unfaithful in the past, he left out the part detailing exactly how much. He said a few, Greta. Hundreds is not a few!” 

Her friend sighed through a sad smile, her eyebrows drawing up, eyes full of sympathy for the poor girl. “I can’t answer that question for you, toots. All I can say though is, and I dunno if this is wishful thinking or not, but maybe he’s got it outta his system now? He’s forty-three, more grown than he was back in his twenties when he and Fil got married. Maybe he just didn’t wanna scare you by being so candid with the exact number?”  

She was attempting her best to stick a dressing over her pain, and while Emily thought such charity was very indicative of Greta’s kind nature, it wasn’t what she needed. “Do leopards ever really change their spots?” 

Shrugging, Greta called upon a few examples. “Well, the man used to chain smoke like a chimney, but quit two years back since he said, and I quote, ‘I don’t think my chest is meant to fuckin’ rattle when I breathe’, which he noticed went away the less he smoked. S’why he always has the...” 

“Toothpick,” Emily finished for her, “to distract himself from wanting to light up. Yeah, he told me about that. It isn’t the same, though. Smoking is a habit.” 

“So’s fucking other women, dolly. Habits can be broken, if you want it badly enough.”  

Sighing, she looked down at her feet for a second, lips pursing as she twisted them from side to side, still under the duress of discomfort though her tears had finally stopped. “It’s the fact he glossed over it that bothers me more than anything.” Leaning to Greta, she kissed her cheek. “Thanks for being a good friend. I’m going to take a little walk; I need to calm down.” 

Her walk took her across the property over to a long line of trees, a dirt road that looked to lead down to a group of outbuildings. She’d have taken the lake, but she didn’t want to run into Luca on his way around it with the kids. Besides, she wasn’t ready to face him yet.  

It was conflicting to her, having virtually no temper, always preferring the calm approach regarding conflict and now being left with nothing but fury in her belly and the desire to slap his face for downplaying his infidelities. Why had he lied? If he’d opened up enough to tell her in the first place, be candid, then why was he hiding the complete truth?  

Her mind could only go to one place; the place of him knowing deep down, he’d probably do it again. That was, if he hadn’t already.  

Fear shunted through her veins like a freight train, the distressing thought of losing him because he couldn’t be faithful to her. The pain of it crushed her fragile spirit, and that was only in imagining what it would be like to discover his deceit. It flew in stark contrast to the fact that Emily well knew his gaze towards her was fonder than anybody else, save his children. Love came in at the eyes and took a path directly to the heart, and every time he looked at her, she felt it beam his adoration right into her chest.  

Truly, she had no reason to doubt his sincerity, and she honestly had believed him when he’d sworn he hadn’t ever been untrue to her. Funnily enough, she was perhaps the only person in his life who knew when he was lying. He didn’t do it often, but every time he did, his thumb stroked over the crucifix tattoo upon the middle finger of his right hand, as if silently asking forgiveness from god for his sins. It was a barely noticeable tell, but she’d picked up on it when witnessing him bullshitting people.  

Reaching the outbuildings, she saw that it had once housed a stable block, the structure now crumbling from rotted wood, in no fit state to house a living creature. It was a shame, she thought, imagining what it must have looked like back when it was built, which she guessed was likely in the eighteen seventies, going on the overall design of the property.  

He said he lost count when he hit triple digits. 

Filomena’s words smacked her sharply again, raking a hand through her curls as she sighed, kicking a pebble across the dusty ground beneath her feet. Would he, though? Was the man who was all hers truly looking to seek out an alternative to it just being him and her? The man who confessed his sins to her in the dead of night as they lay talking, truly, would he forsake the bond they shared for the dalliance with a warm body that was not hers?  

She’d truly liked to have thought she was much less naive than she had been in the almost six months she had been in his life for, learning from him how not to let anyone take her for a ride, learn how to be shrewder, wiser, less easy to manipulate. Why teach her to be anything else, if he indented to hoodwink her? Surely, the man would want her to remain the unworldly little waif who always put her trust in the wrong people, should he have planned to be deceitful to her?  

It didn’t make sense.  

A frown knitted her dainty features, turning to slope off back the way she’d come, her ears picking up on the sound of a cawing coming from one of the huge trees to the side of the path. Looking up, there upon the branches slowly becoming thicker with the lush green of spring, sat a pure white crow. She’d never seen one before, stopping to look up at the bird, its blue eyes staring back at her before it began to caw again, ruffling its feathers.  

A second bird then swooped down, its coal black wings wide, folding neatly as it landed beside its white counterpart, the creatures making soft noises of greeting to one another. She witnessed it, the little display of affection, the black one beginning to preen the white, gentle beak clicks sounding its contentment.  

They reminded her of she and Luca; the light and the dark, bonded effortlessly despite being so different.  

Walking back towards the house, she still had no idea what on earth to say to him when they came face to face, picking out the figure of Filomena still sitting outside, hearing the sound of the children screaming with mirth as they ran up from the lake. She thought he’d maybe gone inside already, but as she took the stone steps that led back up the rolling garden, she heard him shout behind her, telling Guiseppe not to throw rocks at his sister.  

She hurried her pace, wanting to move back into the house and avoid him, but that wasn’t easy when her man had legs longer than the average Derby winner. “Hey, where are you rushing to, amore?” 

The face he was met with took him aback, her expression hardened a little as her eyes darted and she dropped her chin. “Inside.” 

Of course, he persisted. “What’s wrong, huh? You’re not your usual self.”  

His hands prevented her movement, Emily pulling herself from his grasp, her hand moving to strike him sharply across the cheek. It was the first time she’d slapped anyone, and she hated it, especially watching the confusion and anger flit across his face, his mood darkening rapidly. “I never am when I’m lied to. A few, you told me of your affairs. Not over a hundred women, as I learned.” 

He bit his back teeth together, his head snapping to look up at the house, where Filomena sat, a very captive audience to it. “I told you not to listen to her poison, Emily. I explicitly told you that.”  

The fact he couldn’t meet her eye confirmed it. “It isn’t poison when it’s true though, is it? No matter how malicious her intent was. It’s still true, and you still tried to hide that from me.”  

Walking away, she was just stepping back into the house again when she heard Luca explode like a bomb, hurling insults towards his ex-wife in savagely delivered Italian, his fury let loose. “Excuse me, please can you show me up to the bedroom?” she asked Catherine, the housekeeper who had come with them, the woman nodding as she changed direction immediately.  

She looked relieved to be escaping the immediate proximity of the Italian hellfire being flung back and forth outside, Emily closing her ears to it as she trotted up the many steps comprising the marble staircase behind the woman who looked like she had seen the two people they’d left in their wake becoming furious with one another one too many times before.  

“End of the hallway, miss. If you’ll excuse me, I have to go and help chef prepare dinner.” Pulling her shoes from her slightly sore feet, she carried them while padding along the carpeted hallway, again studying her surroundings as she went, trying to take her mind off her current predicament.  

Entering the bedroom, her mouth fell open, the space absolutely beautiful. It was all art deco, the decadence actually very simply done, black walls with white mouldings and ceiling, the hardwood floor furnished with fluffy white rugs, and as Luca had already revealed, a very big four poster bed in the centre. Sitting on the edge, she fell back into the comfort of the fresh, white linen, her eyes picking out the details of the ornate moulding around the chandelier that hung above, glad she was surrounded by silence.  

Needing something to do in order to keep her mind occupied, she moved to where their belongings had been placed, Luca bringing very little with him since he of course already had everything he needed right there. She began to hang up her own items in the large, sparse wardrobe, knowing that she’d packed too much, remembering back to that morning when he’d told her that, too.  

Just as she was placing her jewellery away, her peace was disturbed by a tightly wound looking Luca, coming in and clicking the door shut behind him.  

“Emily, I’m sorry for what she said to you.” 

An interesting choice of words. “You’re sorry for what she said, but not the fact you tried to hide the extent of your philandering from me?” She spoke tersely, fingers untangling her multi-stranded pearl necklace. She knew she should have brought it up in a box as opposed to the silk bag she’d stashed everything in to save space. 

He moved to her, standing there in imposition, giving her no choice but to eventually look up at him once she’d finished her task. “Please, honey. Don’t let her get between us. This? It's exactly what that fuckin’ rattlesnake of a woman is lookin’ for.” 

She couldn’t believe her ears. “It might be what she’s looking for, I don’t deny that from what you’ve told me about her. She isn’t coming between us, though. I asked you straight up, how many times you’d been unfaithful to her and what was your reply? A few. A fucking few! Losing count when you got to a hundred isn’t a few, Luca. Jesus god!” 

Moving to the window, she needed space between them, irritated when he followed her. “Emily, just listen...” 

“To what?” she snapped, “more lies?” 

“I didn’t tell you ‘cuz I wanted to spare you it, the fuckin’ ugly truth of the man I was with her.” He reached for her cheek, stroking it, his chest a field of sharpened glass when she knocked his hand away. “I ain’t that man anymore, baby. Not now I have you.” 

Her nostrils flared, eyes fixing him sternly. “You still lied to me. I needed to know the whole truth, Luca.” 

“Oh, you fuckin’ did, huh?” he replied, his agitation winding once more, like somebody weaving thread into a loom. Why wasn’t the fact he wanted to be better for her enough?  

“Yes, I fucking did!” she yelled, tipping him to explosion. 

“What is it that you want me to tell you, Emily? You wanna hear it all, huh? How I was fuckin’ everything with a pulse from day one? You wanna hear how I took a waitress into the bathroom at my own wedding and fucked her over the sinks? Or how about when nobody could get a hold of me when Fil was in labour with Milania, because instead of bein’ a good husband and waiting outside for my first child to arrive, I was at a private sex club in Manhattan in the middle of an orgy? How about that, huh?” 

It hit her in cold waves, to hear of such behaviour, delivered so loudly too. He never shouted or went on angry tirades, and she hated bearing the brunt of it. It wasn’t her he was angry at, though, and she saw it so clearly. He couldn’t meet her eye, pacing slowly as he dropped his head and ran his hand over the back of his neck.  

She moved to him, reaching for his arm, stroking the lean muscle beneath the white shirt. “It isn’t Filomena you’re mad at, is it?” 

His eyes locked onto a point in the distance, jaw tightened, offering only silence.  

“Luca, you can’t make amends for how you acted in your marriage by being flawless in your relationship with me. And I love that you are, I believe you when you say you haven’t and won’t stray from me. I’m not the one who needs your apology, though. She does. She’s still hurting because you hurt her.”  

There it was, the truth his ego had successfully stuffed down for the last year, tried to mask behind the lie he told himself that his wife didn’t care about his infidelity when in fact, she did. She simply didn’t want to break her heart or her marriage by confronting him over it, until she was literally confronted by his adultery right there in their bed.  

He’d never be a good man, not truly. He was the head of an organised crime family, after all. He could, however, be better to the people who cared about him, though. Even if it was now in past tense. His pride still swelled, much too strongly to come out and tell Emily she was right in that moment, his eyes finally finding hers as he turned, taking her hands in his and squeezing them.  

“Gimme a minute.” Striding out of the room, he moved through the house, Emily looking down at the lawn below where Filomena stood, Luca joining her after a few moments.  

She turned around, her eyes glassy, looking up at the man who had torn her heart out, Luca opening his arms and wrapping her in a hug. He stroked her hair, kissing the top of her head multiple times as she wept against his chest, finally - and earnestly - delivering the words she’d so sorely needed to hear. 

“I’m sorry. For everythin’ I put you through. Wasn’t your fault, it was all me.” 

She cried harder upon hearing the apology, looking up at him, her eyes pleading as she stroked his face. “Then if you’re sorry, come back to me. Please. We’re you’re family, Luca. Send the girl packin’, let’s start again.”  

Her statement took him by huge surprise, seeing the sudden vulnerability in the woman so formidable, so embittered by her need to hurt him as much as he had her. It truly rocked him for a few seconds, letting out a long sigh. He covered her hands for his own for a moment, removing them from his cheeks. “No, Fil,” he spoke, shaking his head, “my future is with her now. I’ve been angry at myself all this time, not you, and you needed to know that. That’s all. I ain’t ever gonna be no one else’s but hers.”  

“She won’t love you like I do,” she tried, Luca shaking his head again.  

“She won’t, no. She loves me differently, holds me fuckin’ accountable, makes me wanna be better. I shouldda been better to you, though. Just know that I know, but we ain’t tryin’ again. It’s not what I want.” He walked away then, knowing she likely wouldn’t take his rejection lying down. It wasn’t the woman she was. The man he’d become, though, was somebody he intended on remaining, going back into the house, finding Emily still within the bedroom, and taking her in his arms to plant a passionate kiss upon her mouth.  

“What was that for?” she asked, a little breathless from it, her cheeks flushing.  

He rested his forehead to hers, hands stroking her neck. “For being you, cara mia. I ain’t ever gonna be a good man, but I will be to you. Because of you.” His mouth met hers again, fingers beginning to tease the buttons of her dress undone, their need and longing for one another flickering into greater heat, his big hands grasping her narrow waist and carrying her to the bed.  

“I’m sorry I lied to you,” he began, lips planted kisses on her neck, “and I’m sorry I yelled at you.” His lips rained hot over her breasts, pulling her brassiere from her after flicking the clasps undone, “and I need you to know how much I fuckin’ love you.”  

“Don’t tell me,” she gasped, hands all over him, desire charging over her skin. “Show me.” 

Oh, how he showed her. 

[raccoonfallsharder]

Hi!! I adore your blog and everything you write, cause it's so wholesome and giving comfort!! I was wondering about your take on this kind of trope between Rocket and the reader (because I can't see anything similar on the internet and I'm biting my walls). But I was thinking about friendly convo with Rocket as a semi new crew member, who's young and maybe more outgoing. Still sarcastic and brave, yet empathetic. And they started to get along, eventually became friends. In my mind it was a late night vibe, maybe something like talking about trauma or just simply comforting. I'm a sucker for anything involving petting him so (👀). Maybe they have something in common, maybe something happened. But some friendly fluff never hurts. I'd love to see your take on this scenario!! I just love your work I'm hoping to see something like that ksjdksjx 🤍🤍

wholesome? are we looking at the same blog lol

dear little sugar cookie sunbeam. you're so sweet and i'm so grateful for this kindness, truly. thank you for your sweet words! i’m so sorry it’s taken so long for me to get around to this. between you and @whitedragoncoranth (who always so kindly sends me adorable raccoon-related videos and little fictions) the two of you have been spinning lovely little thoughts in my head. so this is for the both of you ♡

like, imagine that pete wakes up in the middle of the sleep-shift. there’s something happening in the benetar’s ventilation system, and it doesn’t sound good. a strange sort of pitchy rattle, like something’s come loose. normally pete wouldn’t be the one to notice something like that — rocket’s sensitive hearing would pick up any deviation in the benetar’s normal low murmur long before pete’s “inferior baldbody ears.” but here it is — far too late in the so-called night — and star-lord has noticed something wrong with the ship. and not just any part of the ship — one of the parts most integral to survival in the inhospitable void of space.

so he rises, half-frantic, and goes to find the benetar’s genius creator and resident mechanic.

"goddammit," you mutter, scowling down at the carton of milky-fizz in your hand. normally, you'd be staring out at the stars as they spiraled past: gorgeous glimmering clouds of glitter-dust and refracted light, swirls of color and soft-edged flakes of illumination, haloes and radiant pinpoints — all bright and pulsing against the black jeweler's velvet of an endless sky. tonight, though, you're just pissed, and not even the shimmering specks of a thousand distant suns can ease the cringing ripple of shame prickling up the base of your spine and between your shoulderblades. you hunch your back, trying to shiver it right off your skin.

"hey, kid. what the hell are you doin' out here?"

you pause, shoulders still high under your ears — but when you breathe out, some of your tension goes with it. rocket's an ornery bastard, but he's also your best friend here on the benetar, and if anyone can make you feel better, it's probably him.

not that it had always been that way. your friendship is more or less a recent development. you wouldn’t call yourself new to the crew anymore, but you're definitely the freshest of the guardians family. you'd run into them when they'd stopped back on knowhere after defeating some kind of — god? planet? — and the pilot had clearly not been a fan of further expanding their little crew beyond the recent addition of mantis and, to a lesser extent, kraglin and nebula.

why d'you wanna even do this? he'd sneered. it ain't all fame and fortune.

you'd snorted. fame and fortune? at best, it had seemed the so-called guardians of the galaxy had only earned the suspicious and sometimes-entertained watchfulness of any given band of locals — as if they'd been some troublesome trickster-folkheroes brought to life.

plus, this stupid galaxy's always needing to be saved, rocket had snarked, half-resentfully.

you'd grinned and shrugged. as a matter of fact, i'm here for the job security, you'd only replied, and it had tugged a startled smirk into the corner of his mouth.

"you all right?" he asks now, nearly thirty cycles later.

you sigh. "oh, you know." you wave your carton at the stars behind the armored glass.

rocket snorts. "yeah, i do know," he drawls, one brow winging up. you're not looking at him, so you can't see it — but you can hear it in his voice. "i know exactly what you're doing."

it's your turn to raise an eyebrow. "what am i doing?" you take a swig of your milky-fizz, but rocket doesn't miss a beat.

"beating yourself up for stupid shit."

"ahhhh," you breathe softly into the chill, recycled air. "you would know, then."

"i would," he agrees. "now, c'mon." his hand reaches out and shoves gently at your hip. "you can whine about it while we eat some zargnuts."

you can't help but laugh. after you'd first come aboard, it had only taken a few rotations for the two of you to begin gravitating toward each other. if asked, rocket would have muttered he’d just given you a shot because you’d been the only one who groot seemed to tolerate: mature enough to hold your own with the other guardians, but young enough that rocket's adolescent son somehow — miraculously — hadn’t despised you. luckily for rocket, he'd also quickly learned that you'd been willing to engage in the stupid multi-front prank-wars that he’d had going with almost every other member of the crew. hell, that thing with the frickin’ zargnuts had been your idea — he’d just come up with the tech. the two of you had crept into food storage one rotation, and you’d emptied every bag into jars, then passed each one to rocket. he’d puffed them with air and neatly closed them with the heat-resealing gun he’d crafted as soon as you’d made the suggestion.

drax had been sulky for cycles, and you'd stayed strong, not 'fessing up until mantis had burst into tears after opening her fifteenth empty bag.

still, the majority of the jars of zargnuts are currently residing in the corner of rocket's bunk.

you follow him across the catwalks and down the hatch, passing arched armored-glass windows separating the two of you from the cold void of space. outside the benetar, the galaxy is lit up with spilt-glitter-stars and moons like twinkle-lights. inside, guages and buttons pin the shadows like velvet stage-curtains to the wall, and security orbs stitch them to the edge of the grated floors. most of the other guardians are in bed already, and the narrow corridors are quiet, with only the low hum of the benetar's life support systems echoing a low lullaby. rocket leaps up to tap the sensor that slides open his bunk door, and you throw yourself easily into the pile of cushions in the corner under his hammock. he's one of the lucky bastards with a starboard-side porthole in his bunk, which means the whole little room is softly aglow with the dim blue and mauve haze of stardust. he taps a plasma orb, adding a sheen of gold to the edges of the shadows so that he can dig through his locker more easily, producing a giant, half-eaten jar of zargnuts and sliding it across the thin, faded rug toward you.

"dig in," he orders, and you do — unscrewing the lid and reaching in to pull out a couple of the bite-sized snacks. "you wanna tell me what's got you all knotted up?" he adds casually, tapping the datapad he's got docked on his workbench. some song he's cloned from pete's zune drifts out, melancholy and mellow, across darkness.

"is that california dreamin'?" you ask incredulously.

he listens for a beat, till the chorus hits. "sounds like it," he replies with a shrug, "but you're not gettin' outta answering me, kid."

you sigh and take another sip of your milky-fizz . it goes surprisingly well with the zargnuts. "i almost got pete killed today."

rocket snorts. "what?"

"when that symbiote attacked him, i should've switched over to the disresonator blaster you made, and instead i just sh-shot at it with the rotary cannon and i almost—"

"kid," rocket interrupts, sounding exasperated. "you been in how many fights like this? m'not talking about threatening some jerk with your quadblaster, i mean actually fighting a dozen corrupted klyntar, or some high-powered alien despot, or whatever."

"i dunno," you say dismally. "however many there've been since i started with you guys."

"and this is your first mistake," he reminds you. "and it wasn't even that stupid."

you roll your eyes. "thanks ever so."

"seriously," he says, grabbing another handful of zargnuts. "you know, our second fight was because drax decided to call up the kree accuser we were running from and give 'im our coordinates."

you pause with your milky-fizz halfway to your mouth. "what?"

rocket snickers. "and that jackass is like, old enough to be your dad. at least. he's supposably been fighting way longer." he pauses. "though he did get caught and thrown in the kyln so maybe he was always an idiot about it. what i'm saying is, you don't gotta beat yourself up for doing one stupid thing."

you look at him solemnly, taking in the way the plasma orb gilds the strands of gunmetal and brass in his fur, and the halo of mint-green and rose and purple as you drift past a rainbow-hued nebula.

"what about you?" you ask. the quiet shadows pool around the two of you, cool and just heavy enough to press any anxiety out of your lungs. that's how it always is on these nights with rocket, you think. usually the two of you are on the flightdeck, drinking some of drax's kylosian coffee while rocket flies till you fall asleep — but sometimes you hole up in his bunk or yours, listening to music and telling stories and cracking jokes until one or both of you passed out.

"what about me?"

you wrap the shadows and the starlight around yourself and finish off the milky fizz, setting the plastic carton carefully to one side. "you beat yourself up all the time."

he sighs. "that's different."

"howso?" you challenge, but he slants you a look that glints like red spinels and rubies in the stray starlight, and you know you're not gonna get an answer. you hum a faintly disgruntled, half-playful note. "you know what would make me feel better?"

"no."

you grin, and reach out toward him with both hands, palm-down, rubbing your fingers and thumbs together.

"absolutely frickin' not."

"please?"

"you're annoying."

your fingers don't stop. "you don't have to pretend like you don't like it," you tease him. "i had a friend back on terra—"

he snorts. "you had a friend?"

you pout. "don't be a jackass." you flex your fingers in a grabby motion. "i had a friend on terra and she use to tell me — you know, you are allowed to let yourself enjoy nice things."

he snorts. "oh yeah? and what’d you say to that?"

your grin splits wide. "probably the same thing you’re gonna say to me," you admit with a dip of your head. another gold galaxy swirls slowly past, limning everything: platinum and bronze and sunset edges, melting against the dark violet-blue.

he wings one brow upward. "what’s that?"

you can’t stop the chuckle riding under your ribs. "sounds fake, but okay."

he snickers. "well, you're not wrong."

"c'mon," you wheedle, not letting him out of it that easily. you flex your fingers again, and rub the tips together like you're testing the velvet quality of the shadows, or the fading strains of california dreamin' as they melt into time after time. "please? for me, rocket?"

he raises his brow again, rolling his eyes. they're deep amethysts in the darkness, but every time he moves them, they throw back glimmers of almandine and garnet.

"sounds fake," he mocks, "but okay." he slides across the cushions. "and watch the tail this time. don't need your frickin' elbow leaning on it again."

you fake-scowl. "that was one time," you sulk, winding your arms around him and pulling him in close so you can burrow your fingers into the thick velvet pile of his ears. he immediately cocks his head like he's been secretly waiting for it all night, leaning into the little massage at the base of the twitching appendages. his head his heavy and weighted against your hands, alternating side to side as he tries to push into the pressure of your touch. you'd never point it out to him, of course; he'd stop immediately, you're sure. and you weren't lying — it does make you feel better. millennia of evolution have contributed to this one perfect element of the terran human condition, you suppose: the release of endorphins whenever you get a cuddly animal's fur under your fingertips and palms.

you ease your hands down, stroking long lines over the back of his head, burying your fingers in the fur at the base of his skull and around his shoulders, weaving them into his lush, soft undercoat. it becomes mindless, meditative: his fur gleaming thread by soft thread in the starlight, the hypnotic lullaby of the moons and suns and planets rolling by like round, loose beryls and pearls, the sparkling haze of cosmic dust spilling past the porthole. the music shifting through the dark shadows and puddling in the little pools of light, weaving in between each strand of rocket's fur and the soft valleys between your fingers: fleetwood mac and bowie and kate bush and joy division, all layered into the darkness and the sprinkle of lights — the spray of glitter, the haloed glow; the quiet of your breath and rocket's; the pulse of your shared heartbeats; the sleepy tug of your eyelids. the knowledge that he knows you well enough to recognize when you're ragged at the edges, and the eagerness to help patch you up with zargnuts and music and stories about drax; the knowledge that you'd do the same no matter what. the warmth of him under your hands, his body going relaxed and heavy under your arms, the soft brush of his fur under your chin.

the knowledge that in all of the wide universe, you always have a home with each other.

something rumbles against your belly, where his chest is leaned up against you, and your hands stroke over his back. it's rare that he purrs, and usually brief: but this time he lets it happen, and it grows. the rapid, deep-rooted clicking, like a dark-velvet chirp that never ends, rolls up from his body and into your hands like a gift passed from him to you. it shivers out into the air, tumbling and rippling through the silk shadows, blending with the music, flickering against everything in the tiny room and echoing softly, rebounding, shimmering. you lose yourself in the pattern of it, matched to his inhalations and exhalations. matched to yours. you're drifting into it like an incoming tide, moonlit and starstruck, little waves that lap and tap against your heart and your brain until you begin to doze off while your fingers trace deep little forest-paths into his fur, taking and offering comfort as easily as breathing, as easily as the gentle thump of your hearts against each other. you lose time like that: lost in the sounds of him and the music, lost in the deep blue, the aubergine, the glimmering in and out. you don't so much as stir until there's a thump in the corridor, and then against the frame of the door—

you jolt awake, blinking blearily, and rocket's already torn himself out of your arms and off the cushions as the door slides open.

"what the fuck, quill? i coulda been — i dunno, doing something—"

"there's a problem with the vent system," pete rushes out, sounding nervous and frantic. "i don't know how long it's been going on but there's like a — a rattling, rumbling noise—"

"shut up," rocket snaps, one dark hand extended toward pete in a halting motion, and you freeze as the three of you go still and quiet.

the vents cycle on, hushed and gentle as a breeze in a field of wheat.

you wait.

"i don't frickin' hear anything," rocket growls.

"i don't—" pete starts, looking baffled and almost betrayed by the functioning ventilation system. "it was—"

"what'd it sound like?" you pipe up from the corner, and pete's brows furrow when they focus on you.

"like a kind of a... brrrrrrrrrh," he mimicks, rolling his tongue off the rough of his mouth in a guttural purr.

your eyes go wide, and then shoot over to rocket's. your friend's face is a picture in absolute horror.

"uh," you start, the corners of your mouth twitching as you try to hold back a sudden cackle.

"it's nothing, pete," rocket snaps. "you're imagining shit."

"but—"

"go back to bed!" rocket half-roars, and pete takes one last bewildered glance at the air vents before slinking out the door.

rocket slaps the sensor panel and whirls on you, one claw extended.

"not a fuckin' word," he snarls.

you say nothing. you only smile — eyes sparkling — and reach for him with both hands: palms down, fingertips rubbing against thumbs in a silent demand for more pets.

headcanons & imagines masterlist

[sammy-writes-sometimes]

Word Count: 773

---------

"So… were you born or made?" Skizz asks slowly.

Bdubs can't stop himself from laughing. "That's definitely a question to ask on your second date."

"Third date if you count, ya know." It makes a motion with its hand and finger, the lewd implications bringing Bdubs back to them in a clearing against a rocky slope.

"So was every affirmation you gave a date?" Bdubs asks playfully as they roll on their side, grass curling underneath them.

"You're avoiding the question, Dubs." Skizz giggles.

"Yeah, yeah, but why do you even want to know?"

"Curiosity, and I wanna see if I'm right."

The dryad huffs, moving to trace a hand over the angel's cheek.

"I was born from a leaf, happy?" They take a lighthearted tone, no true heat behind the hostile words.

"So I was right." Skizz smiles. "You seemed like the type, but– sorry, I'm getting too invasive if I ask that."

The angel wraps a wing around them. "I know their original spawns are important for most nature spirits and have to be hidden."

"It's fine…" He murmurs. "It's– well it's complicated. My birth server is closed off now, me n' my brother can return when we want, but it's not like I want to…"

Skizz smiles as it kisses his cheek. Soft and gentle, but endlessly warm.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

He hums, stopping for a moment to listen to the purr under his ear. Well, it's less of a purr and more something bird-like somehow, caught somewhere between a tiger's chuff and a songbird's trill.

"Since you already got to ask me; where did you come from? You're the only angel I've ever met and it's– I'm nosey and curious, I'd love to learn."

There's a brightness behind Skizz's eyes, barely hidden joy as he smiles.

"Do you know anything about how angels work?"

"Other than how you work down there, no."

Skizz laughs, a boisterous sort of thing as its chest shakes and rattles.

"What? It's true!" Bdubs yelps.

"True but–" It barely manages to get out. "It made me think how good you look under me, I got distracted!"

"Just answer the question, stupid."

"Okay, fine, I'm on it. Just don't complain when I keep you here for hours."

Despite the sun and the smaller worry he'd get burned, or the idea they'd be there until mobs start spawning, Bdubs can't find it in himself to be upset with that. The angel's wings, pristine and white, always looked beautiful during the day, but the idea of getting to see it at dusk almost felt dizzying.

"Deal."

Those wings shift, Skizz stretching out his arm and spreading his fingers.

"So gods, right? Those things above us all? They're real, kinda, but they need helpers so they made angels and demons." It then laughs. "Don't believe some stories, by the way. Demons aren't inherently or instinctually evil, they just sound big n' angry from living in the nether."

"How did demons get there?"

"No clue, but there's a bunch of stories and legends about what might've happened." Skizz nudges Bdubs closer to it, chuffing as it kisses him again. "But that's not really what we're here for. Maybe ask Impulse or Tango later, I'm sure they have their own legends.

"But with the gods thing, each has their own meaning and reason. You have gods of life, death, love, war, so on."

"And you?" Bdubs asks almost cautiously.

"It– it's kinda confusing to explain, but they're a god of the hearth."

"God of the what?"

"Hearth." It says as it laughs. "She's– they're kind of a protective god and a storyteller."

He brushes his hand over Skizz's cheek again, stubble scratchy under his palm. "Sometimes I forget you're something holy and important."

"I'm really not, just another guard and sorta follower of a god no one really talks about."

Bdubs moves to lay on Skizz, one hand resting on his cheek while the other lays on the angel's chest.

"I know you're already going to, but I'd love to hear more." Bdubs says softly. "About your life, this god you follow."

"I don't really follow her, angel's don't always have to." It laughs, then its feathers puff out. "Oh, do you want to hear about when I first met Dipple?"

He doesn't stop his partner, there's really no way he can as the day passes. A dulled chuff-trill under his cheek, laughter and smiles, the sunset dancing across hair and skin and reverberating off of snowy white feathers.

Neither of them really notice, trapped in story after story after story.

---------

Our ko-fi

[spamtoon]

DCRC Week 7. I'm so close

I'm so close to catching up. time for an earthquake! I know that from puffy's various jokes about it something happens with the west coast in this one hoo boy calisota is gonna be in danger tonight! I'm so close to catching up. So inanely close. oh wiat hold on lemme get in club pen.guin again

ALRIGHT okay interesting first panel. i like the colors here and the sound effects. sorry these panels are so bright paperinik's style...

my favorite standard font title replacement so far i think

i like how the money symbol is there so we can tell its mcduck enterprises

im so mad i love how he's ploping the bear into the coffee. hot chocolate. something like that

the little crackers surrounding the coffee mug as theres a rainy scene in the background. the color contrast... hi one you look so silly today

i love how uno's just floating today usually they try to show his little chord or him attached to something but he's so silly

im so mad. get uno's ass donald

hes so silly though... the way donald rattles off all the things and uno's just like shut up please. he thinks he's onto something btu he's literally onto nothing

im so mad. do you know how to ride a bicycle this is not that

divorce (they argued for two seconds)

hello girl. i dont know who you are but your design is everything to me

im so mad shoutout to when comics do this. more heroes should be federal criminals and evade taxes. i love the way he's like Oh Fuck! I'm a Criminal Now! glad the government gets on pk's bad side too RIGHT after the time police nonetheless

she... i might have her job someday. imean not LITERALLY like i dont wanna go into security but i do want to work in an environmental department. i love how uno is just really into snooping on the fbi and honestly who wouldn't be Donald. be peer pressured into getting yourself into more trouble with the govenrment come onnn

physical antiviruses... ugh code wall so cool im. the way they're battling on the us fbi logo

IM SO MAD i actaully laughed at them getting angus fangus. if he blamed this on the duck avenger randomly he would be right and he could convince them so this could have been the worst play ever but its also the most cathartic

hello mary ann flagstarr...

cog donald's little red eyes... the digital and the real are blurring for a moment but i guess the fbi's security system is so complicated it has. air vents. or he's in the real fbi nevermind

holy shit guys its MEEEEEEEE yeah i never told you guys i was in pk the whole time. its insane

I LOVE HOW HES JUST LIKE. BEATING UP FEDERAL AGENTS NOW AND IT SLIKE OKAY things are only going to get worse im . this is a you call yourself a superhero moment but also the government is the government so!

odnald duck really did think nobody would show up at 3am

hes so fucking smug

ah the pangea project! surely that doesn't mean good things for calisota! ah okay they're not painting the whole government as evil just this guy specifically that makes a little more sense for a disney comic

she's so sad... ooh this is gonna be a ba.xter stockman situation isnt it (SORRY i have seen 1 episode of 2003 and it was. the banned one in call with everyone). she's just like oh my god you're fucking dying and he's like my plan... you must do it... it was my wife's definitely

WHAAAAAAAAT NOOOOOO... HOW COULD THIS HAPPEN IN MY DONALD DUCK STORY? (sarcastic)

sorry this was like the one thing i knew about this comic beforehand. other than like. uno existed. sarcasm aside i do love this panel

i like they Try to give a reason as to why the govenrment is doing this "out of good will" despite the evil laughs and such as like. a climate change backup--land we haven't messed up yet. but like this should be a last resort and not an immediately executed plan and i get you cant evacuate the whole west coast but california has so much of what the us is known for the us would be stupid to let those countless tourism dollars go to waste--especially when new land may not immediately go to claim of the us and Wars might happen over it. sorry im not nitpicking or anything i'm just saying my thoughts. like st canard is a massive city and so is duckburg and--sorry

and uno is sad because he doesnt know whether the sacrifice is worth it which. alright! yeah! but everything's not gonna be peachy keen just because we have some new land to work with. its got to grow naturally and as its arisen from the sea unless its all completely man-bulldozed its going to be rock, dead coral, and lichen for a while before anything grows naturally. the thought process of a scientist who can see everyone as getting in the way, climate change disaster as inevitable unless there are serious changes in human behavior or just straight up more resources and time (and who HATES calisota because he lives there), sure. believable enough for a silly comic like this

IM SO MAD AND THEN IT JUST CUTS TO

HIS STUPID PLANE its beautiful.

PLEASE dont kill of mary ann i love her already

im so glad she doesnt shoot either of them right away like its a massive ??? situation. you cant shoot donald duck

uno feels so bad for dipping for a second for being unsure :(((( poor guy...

this ending panel with the seagull is so good but oh. hohoh. are we gonna get more uno lore next issue ANYWAY yeah! good comic i see why this one is a lot of people's favorites. im glad im having fun reading paperinik again... that sure was a terremoto and boy oh boy... the west coast DIDNT sink? thanks to donald duck? wow. incredible.

[wormdebut]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

I was tagged by @thefreakandthehair and @wynnyfryd You’re both so hot and cool and talented it’s unreal.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Fifteen

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

88,773

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Stranger Things

The only other fandom I’ve ever considered writing for is Good Omens, but I’m so obsessed with Steddie I don’t know if I can peel myself away.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. Cut It Loose, Watch You Work The Room

2. I Like Playing Dumb Until You Figure Me Out

3. Tell Eddie He Looks Sexy With His Hair Pushed Back

4. All You Have Is Your Fire

5. Comb The Crowd, Pick You Out

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Abso-fucking-lutely I Do. Why? Because I am in shock and awe that anyone anywhere appreciated the goofy thing I wrote so much that they commented to tell me that. Thank you thank you thank you for commenting on fics. It means everything.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I’m incapable of not writing a happy ending. Happy Ending are GUARANTEED IN THIS HOME. However, Wynn noted I did write a bonus microfic that was posted to Tumblr only that was angsty. Fun fact: it was based off a very un-angsty IRL experience with Wynnyfryd herself.

‘If They Won’t Call You Wynny Baby, I Will.’

Anyway, read Drunk Words—Sober Thoughts if you wanna.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

All of…All of them I—yall you know my Steddies are so fucking in love with each other it’s stupid.

But Comb The Crowd, Pick You Out is especially cheese.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

No, and I’m blessed for that, but even if I did…all my buddies know how truly dedicated I am to the fact that We are responsible for our own online experience. Don’t let goofy goobers who have nothing better to do than put you down, get to you. If yall ever get hate and need someone to tell you you’re fucking worth it—cmere.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Me? Write Smut? Oh my god I could never—

Yall what haven’t I written, be so fucking for real.

Requests? Drop ‘Em in my Ask Box.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Nooo. I do not. Obviously I have a mess of a good omens X steddie AU rattling around in my brain, but it will never come to fruition

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No, but where I largely write Rockstar dom daddy Eddie it’s very easy to see different variations of similar plot lines. Alas, Two Cakes

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No! But I would cry if one ever was.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No! My writing style is so chaotic I think anyone I wrote with would be shook and terrified. HOWEVER, I may have something coming with @steddieas-shegoes real fuckin’ soon.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Steddie. My angels. The loves of my life.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Oh god. The first thing I ever started writing for Steddie was a Rockstar AU. Shocked looks from the lived audience. Where Steve and Robin moved to Chicago and Eddie covers Head Like a Hole by Nine Inch Nails. Fuckin’ Woof. May it rest in slutty slutty pieces.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Writing seventy two miles of really spicy foreplay…and dialogue 😂

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Some authors are so fucking incredible with imagery and beautiful descriptions of scenes and I just don’t think I’m one of them, but I would like to be one day.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I can barely speak English so I would never write a fic where Eddie speaks French when he fucks…

Anyway stream Tell Eddie He Looks Sexy

19. First fandom you wrote for?

That I published? Stranger Things.

That’s buried in the back of my closet, handwritten in a notebook? The Backstreet Boys.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

Kiss Your Knuckles (Before You Punch Me In The Face) It is everything to me.

Well that was fuckin’ fun as heck. Tagging with absolutely zero pressure a couple buddies 🖤

@messessentialist @steddieas-shegoes @just-my-latest-hyperfixation @aidaronan @sourw0lfs @t-boyeddie @scarcrossdlvrs @runninriot @cuips-not-cute @onirislanding @thisapplepielife

[ejzah]

An Error in Judgment, Part 6

***

When they arrived back at the boat shed, Callen, Kensi, and Rountree were grouped around the main table, on a call with Eric. Rountree caught Sam’s eye as they walked in, and held up a finger, brows furrowed as Eric rattled off some information.

Deeks instantly felt his spirits lift at the sight of Kensi. She smiled back, walking over as the phone call finished up.

“Hey, how’s it been with Rountree?” Deeks asked, tone lowered.

“He talks less than you, but has worse taste in music, so it’s kind of a trade off,” she teased.

“And I’m loving the lack of candy wrappers and partially eaten sandwiches of questionable age.”

“Jerk.” The word was filled with so much fondness that he knew Kensi had missed him as much as he did her.

“So, did you find out anything from your interviews?”

“Yeah. Sergeant Wiles’ wife said her husband had been helping out a friend of his who was having trouble with a bad loan. She couldn’t give us a name, but she did say they talked the day Wiles went missing before. The last time she saw him, Wiles told her he was going to take care of things.”

“That definitely fits with everything his former commander said about him,” Deeks mused. “I’m assuming Callen hasn’t gotten anything out of Tom Nelson yet.”

“Nope. Eric’s going through Wiles’ recent contacts now. Hopefully we’ll figure out who he was meeting with,” Kensi explained. She glanced back at the others, Sam had joined Callen and Rountree, giving them the illusion of privacy.

“Callen mentioned you guys had to swap out because you were hurt. What happened?” Her eyes roved over him in an automatic assessment.

“Eh, I tore my burns open when we were taking Nelson in,” Deeks told her, brushing off her concern. There was no reason to distract over something so stupid.

“Oh my god!” Kensi touched his shoulder, seeming to forget their current hands off at work policy.

“Don’t worry, Sam was a perfect nurse and took care of all my wounds,” Deeks said, winking at him playfully. Sam shook his head, but didn’t intrude on the conversation.

“Well, I’m not sure how I feel about Sam getting all touchy-feely, but I’m glad he was there.” Kensi smoothed her hand down his arm once. She heaved a sigh, then released him, pulling on her agent face. “Can’t leave you out of my sight for two seconds,” she sighed.

Deeks smiled, shrugging off the shiver that worked its way up his spin. Which of course twinged one of his burns, making him wince reflexively.

“Babe, you ok?” Kensi asked, lightly touching his chest, concern in her voice.

“Yeah, I just, uh—”

He was saved from having to come up with a response.

“Hey, love birds, Eric got us a lead!” Sam called out. “Get your butts over here.”

Kensi pulled her hand back and cleared her throat sheepishly. “We’ll finish discussing this at home,” she murmured.

“On the day he died, Wiles spoke with a Richard Bamboat for 20 minutes. He also called or texted that number several times over the last month,” Callen explained as they joined the rest of the team.

“Wiles also transferred several hundred dollars to Bamboat’s account over that time in varying amounts,” Rountree added.

“So, you think Bamboat might have something to do with Wiles’ death?” Kensi asked.

“It’s a possibility.”

“Could be he didn’t have any idea what Wiles had planned. Or, he’s too afraid to come forward even if he suspects something,” Deeks said.

“Either way, Kensi and Rountree, go talk to him,” Callen decided. “Deeks, you wanna join me for the rest of Tom Nelson’s interrogation? I think you deserve it after tearing your back open.”

“I would love to,” Deeks agreed. He flashed Kensi a parting smile, following after Callen, ignoring how uncomfortably warm he suddenly felt.

***

A/N: Hm, maybe Deeks should have those burns looked at by a professional. Thanks for continuing to read this little story!

[fumiku]

Chlonath wips

I have so many Chlonath art and fic wips… I am such a slow writer and I’ve had most of these written down for like 2 years, so I wanna share most of their premises now in case I never get around to them! For joy and prosperity and whatnot, if someone wants to write one of these just ask me first! Someone needs to feed the chlonath masses. My next fic is going to be the camping one I think~

My fave picks:

Your majesty: Despite his bright fiery hair, he was all too easy to erase, to fade into the background. Garish, but unmemorable. Talented, but lame. Chloe decides to change that, takes him on as a pet project as fashion coordinator. "Come on, look at yourself! That hair, those eyes. You were *made* to pop! Everyone’s eyes would turn to you when you’re in the room!" He flushes, was that how she saw him? "But I don’t *want* to be the center of attention..." She smirks confidently/slyly. "Well too bad! Chloe Bourgeois will make a peacock out of this ugly little duckling!". Much later there’s a much quieter, sweeter scene of him voicing not wanting to be that different or flashy and she takes out some accessories that suit and enhance his style, comfy and like him. Eventually oop! She rlly needs a date and it’d go with her pet project, "besides you could use this for networking". "Hm? Oh yeah, a half up half down ponytail would look cute on you, in a street kind of way. But bangs in your face can go for cool and mysterious too. It can give you some personality that goes with or contrasts with your outfit, I guess. But this *is* still a fancy event, so a simple well-groomed swept aside style would keep it prim and formal, and it *is* your first entry into high society... But I *suppose* if you do your big debut with the aesthetic you’ll keep with, it’ll probably help your brand long term, attract the right kind of contract for you right away-" "Wow, where was all this perspective when you were doing the analysis on the blue curtains?" She smirks, "I have more experience in keeping up appearances —and everything it entails— than you think, apparently"

Everything else under spoiler bc I have tons of prompts haha

Chloe becomes designer & coordinator, director, for marc & Nath’s comics! She loves outfit coordinating, set designing, composition etc. Marc handles the writing and Nath the drawing, Chloe helps with the visual design. It starts with Chloe suggesting lil things to Nath when she sees his drawings, like add a common accessory to all the team. And since she was queen bee she can fact check some things. He loses his sketchbook while walking and she picks it up, not in her usual mood, n she sees his sketches and starts rattling off about details and fashion. Nath: "oh I- I’m not very knowledgeable in fashion designing..." she looks him up and down, taking his garish outfit in. "That I could have guessed." He huffs, sarcastic "Well, *thank you*, Chloe. That’s not a half bad idea, I could ask Marinette for some designing help, actually!" He lights up at that idea. She grits her teeth, angry and snatches his sketchbook back. She starts drawing on another page and her drawing isn’t really good but the ideas? Wow, they work. Chloe knows her aesthetics. "Stupid Marinette would *not* know how to arrange queen wasp’s hair, thank you very much. Ugh, this is outrageous! Utterly outrageous! You can keep the changes, and keep your god awful awfully thought out designs out of my sight, next time!" With his open sketchbook shoved back into his hands, he stares down at it n truly appreciate it. Wow, this is some serious good job. He thinks about it, kinda smug, oh I can *definitely* play her. He starts leaving his sketchbook behind on purpose n she starts giving him more and more notes when sabrina isn’t around. At some point she comes to the art room and everyone is silent but she’s shy and makes an effort not to be mean. The art dude takes her a bit under his wing and she starts channeling her time n energy into art, peeps of the art room start tolerating her. She takes Marc under her wing confidence wise, and sabrina tags along and rediscovers a love for scrapbooking. Omll marc & sabrina besties qpr cuties?

Pas de deux: they have a random ballet class in PE and they get paired up for the project and chloe 1) wants a good grade for her dad’s rep 2) is goal-oriented 3) has much less barb when teaching. Also prob a sad side note about impressing her mother with ballet classes as a kid.

But Are the Curtains Blue or Just Your Tear-stained Veil: Nathaniel tended to notice things, notice people. To dissect them, as if they were a comicbook character. What was surprising about Chloe is that while her attitude was bolsterous and always seemed so heated, her eyes were like ice, distant. A deep blue, and curtained off, like she could not let anyone else see what they hid. But Chloe was mean and cruel, and sometimes, Nathaniel dug too deep at wasn’t there. Maybe, they were just blue. He always came back at the mystery of her, though, and was pushed and pulled in a one-sided dance with her like the come and go of waves. //Maybe they just weren’t any curtains, whatever that meant. Maybe he was making everything up. Tags: kinda like The Girl Of the Train tbh

Name ideas:

Buzz off

Sweet as honey: What chloe turns out to love in a man is how sweet he can be

Renaitre

Esquisse

Preen my feathers (peacock holder Nath + motif with Chloe & appearances)

Quick ideas:

"I’ve spent so long hoping to be saved, that it feels weird to save people."

Chloe realizes her mother will never love her, or even respect her. Everything changes. //She lets herself be and experience pain and failure

By fake dating chlonath can make adrienette jealous! A scene: chloe tightens her grip on his arm with a crestfallen gaze at adrienette, nath is like ...? and realize Chloe hated Marinette bc abandonment issues

Sabrina chews chloe out and is done with her when they were on an outing, chloe runs into the nearest building, a museum, to hide and cry her eyes out. She bumps into Nath, and a friendship goes from there.

Ever since nath learned chloe is queen bee, he calls her stuff like yes your stinginess.

Nath brings chloe to a emo concert to throw her off, all hell breaks loose. (She likes it)

Two works linked together, one from chloe pov about nath n the other vice versa. "It’s wicked how sweet you are" and "it’s sweet how wicked you are"

Impression, soleil levant: they have a run in in the museum. Chloe genuinely likes fine art. Nath likes popping color, lineart, contrast and stylistic appeal, more contemporary stuff. Chloe really like impressionism, it calms her down, she could spend a lot of time just watching a painting. When she was a kid her dad would bring her when talking business at the louvre so she ran off with Jean and she knows the museum very well.

Chloe’s dad keeps bothering her about rules and standards and finding a partner, so Chloe resolves to find the lamest lousiest boyfriend. To make a statement, of course, she tells herself so when her eyes keep flicking to the redhead sitting at the back of the class.

What better way to learn to be vulnerable with each other than ice skating, when you’re both awful at it? A date <3

She points out a panel with queen bee when he’s doodling it, she has no context she just chilling "why is her hair down?" Nath answers without missing a beat "It’s a metaphor for vulnerability".

Nath starts disappearing quietly to places more and more, now that he has a miraculous. Chloe susses him out. W-what?? How did you notice it? Nobody ever pays attention to me- Ugh, you’re *impossible* to miss with that fluorescent hair of yours. Well you’re the only person who pays attention to it, apparently. Hah, blame my superior eyes if you must. Well if *I’m* what your superior eyes choose to watch then- U-um, we’re getting sidetracked! W-what are you doing here! Reverse universe where she’s still denied being queen bee so she’s Nath’s sidekick? He doesn’t really have any friends besides Marc which not in this universe bc it comes before, so he wouldn’t have anyone else so lowkey he’s grateful. He notices her really truly changing for the better as they hang out more.

I dig my hole, you build a wall: As Chloe Bourgeois doubles down on being an irredeemable bully, Queen Bee continues to rise on a pedestral of adoration. It doesn’t help, nothing ever does, and it’s getting harder to make herself ignore how miserable she is. Chloe drowns herself in her superhero job, squeezes every drop of appreciation from her fans she can. Nath happens to be one of them, hardcore. She just needs someone to lean on.

26/11/‘22 Chloe gets akumatized into a dollhouse lover like with her teddybear mr cuddles, and she wants to kidnap some ppl and keep them like dolls to play with her and listen to her every want and choice of activities. Sabrina is mad at her so elle la boude. She picks Nath and they have a tea party isolated at Le grand paris etc etc. Maybe after Adrien cuts it off with Chloe so she freaks out amd wants friends, even if toxic controlling, but she’s not shooting for Adrien bc she’s upset at him and ignores him.

Outlined:

He forgets some comic pages behind, vs queen wasp, and goes back to get them and finds chloe reading them intensely, seeming genuinely invested. She’s lowkey having a panic attack n shoos off an akuma?? He’s shocked, but that requires introspection so in the moment he’s doubtful and bitter. She’s panicced and embarrassed about having been found out. He’s like, wtf was so upsetting about my comic?? Jealous of my art? Mad that something isn’t about you? Angry that I have talent and dreams, unlike you? she flinches. She upsetti "you wouldn’t understand." "Oh, try me. I have experience in being put down, after all." He bites coldly. She explains half-heartedly "Oh, here comes the self-pity." Her lips quiver, she looks down. "You’re right. It is self-pity. I’m miserable." The "and I have no one else to pity me but me" is muttered so quietly. Her fists clench, chin tucked in her torso. Then her gaze hardens and she snaps her head up. "Whatever." He blocks her way out. She grits dangerously "*Out*. Of. The way." Her eyes prickle with tears. He doesn’t even flinch "That won’t work today." She’s so close to snapping violently but instead just cries. Blabla "Yeah well, when you’ve dug a hole as deeply as I have, you can’t get out. Not without a miracle, anyways." She says, you could do one about queen bee next, please. N leaves quietly and he’s never seen her so... non-agressive.

Entracte/solo act: Picking on Nathaniel Kurtzberg when alone with him, Chloe found, was a much different experience than humiliating him in public. It turns out, he only unleashes his fury on the most deserving of private audiences. Notes: I headcanon Nath, bc of the reflekto ep, would stand up for himself more if he wasn’t being bullied in public. I feel like having all the eyes on him motivates him to shut up and try to make the ordeal as brief as possible & leave the situation, so when he’s alone and getting sass he has less qualms about snapping and ripping into ppl lol. Chloe goes to the art room and Nath is alone in it. He asks where Sabrina is, she rolls her eyes "She had *something important* to attend to." She goes to see what he’s working on and makes her snide remarks as usual but unlike usual he snaps and rips into her, she loses her haughty attitude real quick. The next time they make eye contact in class, she grimaces and looks away. He wins. But then she gets a fire and glares at him head on. Let the war truly begin. 

To Nathaniel’s and Choe’s horror, the class goes on a mandatory camping trip. It does not go well for either of them. "Um, I’m sorry mme Bustier but I won’t be able to come. I’m sick, yes, cough cough, how unfortunate." Bustier is not amused. She groans when it’s announced they’ll have a camping trip. Nath keeps his in, but for once they agree on something. Ugh.  Nath just wants to draw in his tent, that’s too much to ask??!

Royalties: nath finds out chloe is queen bee and threatens to tell it to everyone so that ladybug will take her miraculous away. In exchange for his secret, Chloe must praise him and his art on her social media, throw his name in at fancy soirées, become his "fan". To Nath’s surprise and Chloe’s horror, it backfires. Royally. Her "Nath is so cool" post was half advertizing half for public humiliation. Being the daughter of the mayor of one of the most famous cities in the world meant she has a lot of followers, quite a few in the elite sphere of Paris. The post’s a bit rebellious on her end because he doesn’t like her calling him Nath. Since Chloe *never* praises anyone and the tone was overeager/affectious, people start theorizing they’re actually dating. He takes the logical leap to be invited by her at an event, but as a plus one because it’s not her party to invite people at. Normally he wouldn’t want to have anything to do with a fancy party, but he begrudgingly has to admit networking is very important as an artist, plus he’d do it to piss off Chloe alone.

Vampire au!! Summary: Beyond her humanity, which Chloe had never truly cared about anyway, becoming a vampire hadn’t really, concretely, taken away anything from her. She was still rich, loved by all of Paris, and beautiful. And yet, she realized then that she had lost herself without knowing when.  //Chloe has been a vampire for a lil while, very upset. Mr cuddly is also a reminder of her past life. She longs to see herself again, she has had to keep out of the spotlight because she has no reflection and can’t be taken a picture of, she asks Nath to draw her like in Mirror, Mirror the awesome fic which I recommend! Nath finds out her new identity so he becomes tied up in it all, he’s the only one who knows so he becomes who she feeds on. "I can pay you. What do you want? A thousand euros per night? The latest drawing tablets? A gallery showing? Publishing deal? Just help me." Right from the start she feeds off from his neck despite his hesitance. She goes "a wrist? Are you kidding me? I settle for nothing but the best." But the reality is she just wants to feel close to someone, one time the bite turns into a hug crying session. -"... Does that mean my blood is the tastiest?" She’s shaken at that, "That- was *not* what I was implying. It’s not like I would know, anyways." She huffs n looks away. "Your blood is... satisfactory." He smirks, from her, that’s a huge compliment. He can just hear it in his mind "My taste buds are only the most refined!! I can tolerate only but the best!!" She does tell him he’s sweaty n stinks the first time tho. He has to hide his neck bite, ppl tease him about hickeys. At some point a classmate figures out it’s chloe that gives him his hickeys and Nath has to damage control and people start sussing they’re a couple.

No lullaby: No one liked her, but she could dream, couldn’t she? The delusions she lulled herself to had never really been dreams, but maybe to reborn anew she could find a lullaby in someone new, too. // based on the song No Lullaby by Siamés. Also La la la by Jason Chen Akuma that calls itself Lullaby, it was made because they have to move away from their parents or smth like that, so it lashes out and makes all kinds of kiddy & wholesome parenthood stuff. It turns people into happy kids/babies by tapping into childhood memories of parents(something like that), but doesn’t affect Chloe. Because Chloe never had her parents be around much, or them being much like parents at all. Chloe is fighting as Queen Bee, of course, in an AU where people know who she is but Ladybug still trusts her to want not to smear her family name by being a bad superhero. "I could be a superhero and my mother still wouldn’t blink my way... Oh, sorry, that actually happened, not much for an hypothetical." Everyone stares at her in shock. "What? I can have a smart vocabulary!" People look at her with pity and sympathy. "T-that’s not it..." Chat says. Anyways they’re fighting it and a lot of other miraculous holders get hit and she does too but is immune bc it taps into their happy parents childhood memories, meanwhile it’s only able to conjure up her plushie for her. Anyways so she gets swinged up to a rooftop where Nathaniel is sitting and drawing Queen Bee, he jolts and goes "Q-quee-Chloe?" but they don’t have much time since the akuma comes swinging in too and gets Nath under its spell. She carries around baby!Nath around because for some reason she feels a sort of duty to people she knows irl. She goes to the building the other holders are in or something but still ends up alone with Nath since everyone got affected, she panics as her miraculous beeps and she’s alone to fix everything, but Nathaniel draws with his fine art colored pencils like kids use crayons and does tons of kiddy imaginative drawings, and starts humming, bringing her out of her torpor. As the tune calms her, she does a “what would Ladybug do?”, "Ugh, I could have used Evillustrator right about now." She strategizes on how to break the spell over Ladybug for purification, and goes in to break the akuma item holder. When Nathaniel comes to, he’s mad to have ruined his pencils, now with blunt deformed tips, but then he looks at his sketchbook in utter confusion he sees pages and pages of kid’s drawings, recognizing his own infantile style, but the most curious are that some drawings include Queen Bee. His feelings are conflicted and he wants to know what happened, but dreads asking her, but he laughs at a drawing of him pulling her ponytail, and stills at the one of her hugging him. End notes: Next time Queen Bee gets swung onto his rooftops by an akuma, Nath jolts but responds to that adrenaline by crossing his leg over his other knee and raising an eyebrow over half-lidded eyes: "Somehow, I’m not surprised." You know, like sometimes when people flirt as fight or flight response lmao.

22/2/‘23 Chloe was trying really hard to be kind like a true superhero now, and with the birthday of her classmate Nathaniel coming up she would have to, painstakingly, do everything in her power to give him the best gift ever. One problem is, she doesn’t really know him, like, at all. She asks him what he likes. She thinks of supherhero stuff and art stuff. She doesn’t know about drawing tablets so she’s like, what about this professional drawing desk I’ll have my bodyguard carry? As if everyone has the privilege to have the space for a new furniture on a whim. She asks Sabrina for help like this close to a meltdown, maybe even Marinette: "The fool was in love with you, don’t you know anything about him that could help??" And then at the end shes like "omg. I can get him an interview with Queen Bee!" Ooh does she get akumatized with some gifter gimmick? Would be neat but naaah. Maybe two parts, idk what the end should be! Copic markers maybe

[aerodaltonimperial]

Smut prompt: “Shh, just a little more…” JungleCorpse 💚🖤

(Hey remember when you prompted me for this trololol 💚🖤)

Footsteps sound below. It's dark enough that Darby doesn't think it's a janitor - not yet, anyway, given that the backstage hasn't completely cleared - and he's banking on the low lighting and harsh shadows to keep them covered. No one ever looks up, anyway; not unless there's a reason to. People are so keen to keep their noses to the floor, obsessed with the ground instead of the space stretched wide above them. He's not worried, but Jack must be, because his muscles sort of jump and tense, trembling against Darby’s palm.

"Shh," Darby murmurs against Jack’s mouth, his lips parted as he struggles to keep his breathing in check. That's fucking hot as shit, honestly. The footsteps don't fade, but move a little, and then there's a loud screech of stairs being dragged along the floor, repositioning.

"Oh my god," Jack whispers. His fingers are clawed around Darby’s shoulder, and Darby will take to his grave - whenever that may be - how much he fucking loves when Jack sinks his nails down in, gets a solid grip, clings to Darby’s form like he's desperate to get them pressed closer together. This isn't the sort of thing you tell an ill-advised fuck buddy, really.

Darby gets Jack’s lips, tugs them a little just to get Jack to tip his chin and chase the pull, exhale stuttering.

"We can't..." Jack breathes, lacking conviction. Yeah, 'cause he's rattling on the edge of coming, his dick twitching against Darby’s palm. Darby offers another stroke, slow and measured, just to be a real asshole.

"You wanna stop here?" Darby asks, before dragging his mouth down and over, following Jack’s jaw up to his earlobe. He's got such sensitive ears; a delightful little discovery.

That person is definitely still in the ring below, moving things around. It's a good thing no one ever glances up to the rafters.

"No." Jack begins a groan and catches himself a second in, clamping his teeth together. "No, fuck, I don't..."

He'll beg, if Darby works this right. Jack's got a lot of swagger these days, but he'll beg when it's all on the line like this. Darby wonders if anyone else knows about this, the nuggets of that eager, awkward old Jack that hover just beneath the veneer, waiting to be teased out. He wonders if he's the only one who gets to do this anymore, who gets to coax the delirious noises past Jack’s lips.

He's never asked. If he's being honest, he's a little afraid to.

But at least now, with Jack quivering against him in a delightful combination of nerves and anticipation, it doesn't matter. Darby can have this moment, if nothing else, and he's only human: flawed enough that he'll pant after Jack’s heels again the next time, even when he knows he shouldn't.

Darby gives Jack’s dick another pull, flipping his wrist around to slide over and across, and Jack moans.

"Shh," Darby mumbles again, against the flush spreading across Jack’s neck. He's close. Darby loves to get his mouth on Jack’s skin when he comes, feel the reverberations of it through his skull. "Just a little more."

Another squeak from the ring below, the nearly-empty arena.

"Darby," Jack whispers, all rough edges; his arms loop around Darby’s shoulder when he gets them nose to nose. It traps Darby’s hand between them, but it's not like he was planning on moving.

Yeah, this is so fucking stupid, and it's not because of the lone staffer beneath them who could be alerted to their presence. Darby is a fucking idiot to keep coming back to Jack now, with all the chips on the table and a losing hand. He's got nothing else to wager but himself, and he's just dumb enough to use it to up the ante.

He crowds in, tightens his grip, and swallows down Jack’s groans when they're summoned thirty seconds later, wishing he didn't know that he's gonna be cleared out soon, that the house always wins, and that Jack, the true wild card, is going to take him for everything he's got.

[antimonyandthyme]

hi athy, just wanna send you 💗💖💞💓💝 for banging out banger after banger au hcs sent your way.

one au that has been rattling around my brain was a sebchal, eternal sunshine of the spotless mind au. would love your take on it. 👀👀

My dear dear movie anons, you are so precious to me! I’m loving all these aus so much they’ve never even crossed my mind before, thank you for the idea! I had such a nice think about this one and I hope you enjoy.

1. Set after the Ferrari split in 2020. Every time Sebastian thinks of the team he used to (still) loved, it’s like picking a wound that’s not been fully scabbed over, and getting blood all over his fingernail for his troubles. It’s not a good feeling at all. An idea, why doesn’t he just erase the memories of his time in Ferrari? He can go back to loving them without any of the pain. He can return to racing without any of this baggage weighing on him. So he goes to the memory erasing company Forget/Be Happy and very specifically outlines what he wants gone. Only the parts where he raced for Ferrari. And it’s not as if he doesn’t know he’ll eventually relearn some details of his time in Ferrari; he’s going back to the grid next year and obviously word will get back to him that he spent years dressed in red. The whole point of deleting the memories is to delete the soreness that comes with them. Whatever else important, he can relearn again. With this in mind, he does the procedure.

2. So much of Ferrari was spent with Charles. Sebastian goes back to the paddock and knows who Charles is, but doesn’t know him. Not in the ways that matter at least. Charles follows after him and inquires after Sebastian’s break, and Sebastian answers politely instead of cracking a dad joke. Charles brings up an hourglass challenge after Ferrari makes him do one with Carlos, Hey, remember that time? Sebastian goes, what time? Charles spots Sebastian from afar and waves, and Sebastian waves back, then turns and goes the other way, instead of coming over. Charles doesn’t understand it. It’s almost as if Sebastian’s forgotten him—oh.

3. Charles is… heartbroken. He doesn’t realize Sebastian’s asked to forget about his time at Ferrari, he thinks Sebastian’s asked to forget about him. My god. They fought and they hurt each other but Charles hadn’t believed it could’ve ever led to this. Was the message on the helmet just lip service? That doesn’t seem like Seb. But Sebastian walks past him and doesn’t smile like he used to and Charles is forced to consider that maybe it wasn’t as important to Seb as it was to him. I want to forget him too, he tells Forget/Be Happy. He’s being petty, he’s acting out in a childish temper, but Charles doesn’t see why he needs to be miserable and upset when Sebastian’s clearly gotten over their time spent together. The receptionist at Forget/Be Happy gives Charles a bland smile. Of course. This way, Mr. Leclerc.

Oh, that was the first time he met Seb. Oh wait, that was when Seb spoke up to the media about him. That’s Sebastian cradling his cheek. Oh, their clash on track. The apology in the hotel room, the tentative kiss. The drive out in the countryside. The fight where they dipped their knives in poison and slipped them under the other’s skin. The stupid stupid hourglass challenges. Charles, you are the most talented driver.

Wait, Charles screams from inside his head. Wait, wait I don’t want to do this anymore. Can anyone hear me? I don’t want to forget him. Not Sebastian. Stop this. Stop this now, please.

Outside, Mattia nods at the technician. Continue, he instructs, and they delete the memory of Seb from Charles.

4. Sebastian gets a funny feeling whenever he looks at Charles. He gets the sense that they should know each other better. But every time he tries to crack a joke, the guy does a full body flinch and then blushes, like it’s not been years since they’ve been in the paddock together. That’s right. It’s been years, hasn’t it? Years. They drove together. Surely they should be more familiar.

He asks Lewis about it. Lewis goes, Yeah, uhm. You kinda did something about that. Do you want to know or nah?

Sebastian gives him a puzzled look. Well of course I want to know. Why does he act like he doesn’t know me? And on that note, why does it seem like I don’t know him when I should?

Lewis chews his lip. Look up Forget/Be Happy, alright Seb? Personally I don’t think they deserve the second part of their name.

5. Sebastian gets the tapes of his memories sent back to him. Ah, fuck. Oh. Fuck.

He calls Lewis. Why did I ever think this was a good idea?

You were sad, Lewis says simply. And because Lewis knows him well enough, he adds, Don’t be angry at yourself. They put you through the ringer. It was fair of you to want to forget them.

Not him though, Sebastian says. I didn’t want to forget Charles.

I guess it’s all or nothing, Lewis says wryly. You don’t get the good without the bad. The light without the dark. The happy without the sad.

6. If I said I knew you, would you want to know more?

Charles looks at him curiously. But seb, we know each other. He says it almost shy.

Sebastian blows out a breath. Like know you know you. If I said I knew you better, would you want to know more?

Charles stares at him, when his expression breaks, and Sebastian catches a glimpse of something vulnerable, and something yearning. Of course, Seb.

Sebastian hands Charle the tapes he stole from Mattia. Give this a watch, he says hopefully. And if you can find it in you to forgive me… give me a call, alright?

Sebastian hands Charles the tapes he stole from Mattia. Give this a watch. And if you find it in yourself to forgive me… give me a call, alright?