#enough nonesense

[queer-reader-07]

coffee theory and the disparaging of aziraphale’s character

ok y’all buckle up, we’re finally talking about why coffee theory not only disparages aziraphale’s character but would cheapen the story.

this is a meta i’ve been trying to write for ages now because i know i have Thoughts but trying to communicate them in a coherent and not passive aggressive way is… difficult to say the least.

i have a few main points i’m gonna touch on in this post:

1) why coffee theory disparages aziraphale’s character and removes him of his agency

2) why it would cheapen the story

3) how it underestimates neil’s talent as a writer

4) why the implications of it irk me

ok. let’s get into this.

firstly, a run down of coffee theory for anyone who’s managed to miss it. coffee theory basically states that the metatron drugged/manipulated the coffee he gave aziraphale such that the coffee was what led to aziraphale making the decision to go to heaven. (i.e. he wasn’t himself, he was under the influence and that’s why he did what he did)

why coffee theory disparages aziraphale’s character and removes him of his agency

look. i understand that aziraphale’s decision to go to heaven and take up the position of supreme archangel hurt. i understand that a lot of y’all were angry at him, and many of y’all still are angry with his decision. that is so totally valid and i’m not saying you’re wrong for being upset.

but what i do have to say is this: you can be angry at him while simultaneously acknowledging that his decision makes sense in the context of his character. those two truths can coexist without contradiction.

i think that a lot of people (myself included) have this unconscious tendency to view characters through our own warped perceptions of them rather than their actual character. like we all have our own headcanons about the characters and media we enjoy, but sometimes they get away from us and we start projecting complete headcanon onto real actual canon plot.

so let’s talk canon for a minute. the show has shown us time and time again that aziraphale fundamentally believes Heaven is good. he knows the angels are mean or bad sometimes but he thinks that capital H Heaven is good. that God’s plan is good. he believes that being an angel makes you good.

“i know the angel you were.” “you’re a demon you lied.” “you’re the bad guys.” “we’re hereditary enemies” “there is no our side”. aziraphale believes that being an angel and being on the side of Heaven is what makes you good. yes he knows crowley is good but aziraphale thinks it’s because of his past status as an angel. that it’s in spite of his demonic nature.

aziraphale believes that with the help of someone good (properly good, not pretend-y good) Heaven can be perfect and good and share that goodness with humanity. and he’s been given the opportunity to do that, alongside crowley no less!

aziraphale doesn’t fully understand how corrupt Heaven truly is. and nobody can get that across to him. not even crowley. miscommunication is an issue between them, yes. but it’s not the only issue. aziraphale fundamentally believes in Heaven, and crowley does not.

so of course aziraphale chose going to Heaven and being in charge because now he can truly enact change. his decision makes so. much. sense.

and coffee theory? coffee theory would strip aziraphale of all his depth and complexity as a character. it would say “yeah he has this long history of being hurt by this institution but his faith in it is so strong that he was willing to leave the one being he loved most in the universe behind if it meant fixing the institution and creating a safe future for him and his lover. but actually he just got drugged lol.” like. how utterly disappointing would that be? it strips him of his agency, it strips him of his complexity, it makes him boring. and boring is one of the worst things a character can be.

aziraphale is allowed to be a complex character. he’s allowed to make decisions you don’t like. in fact i think he should. that’s what happens in stories. especially in good ones. characters make decisions you don’t like all the time but what matters is if the decision makes sense. and aziraphale’s decision makes all the sense. no matter how upset it made you, it checks out.

why it would cheapen the story

look me in the eyes when i say this: most of y’all would probably hate coffee theory in practice because it is such a cop out plot twist.

coffee theory fundamentally disallows complexity to aziraphale’s decision to leave earth. it makes it a “oh no he was drugged!” situation instead of a “he has a lot of shit to work through and he’s hurting and the being he loves is hurting and the world is gonna end and he needs to work on himself before he can save the world properly.” situation.

coffee theory is bred out of the knee jerk instinct to say aziraphale was completely wrong and crowley was right and “i need to explain away aziraphale’s decision because he would never hurt crowley!!!”

y’all. i love aziraphale, do not get me wrong. but have we been watching the same show? aziraphale has hurt crowley, multiple times. he’s said many hurtful things. and it all comes back to the same reason: he believes Heaven and angels are good, and demons and Hell are bad.

it’s all connected. and i want to see the show acknowledge all of that. push it to the surface and let them confront it all. not brush away the hurt with some cheap “he was drugged!” plot twist. it’s boring and disappointing.

how it underestimates neil’s talent as a writer

neil is a good writer. i’m not gonna entertain arguments about this, if you like good omens you like neil’s writing. (and i highly suggest you read his other novels). and if there’s one thing i’ve found in my time reading neil’s books it’s that everything is intentional.

how much time does this fandom spend dissecting every single frame of the show because we know nothing is accidental? that is not a good omens specific thing, it’s in all of neil’s works (at least the ones i’ve read). neil is incredibly intentional in what he does, and in my experience he doesn’t rely on cheap plot twists.

he can plot twist the ever living daylights out of you but it will never be a cheap cop out like “he was drugged!” and acting like coffee theory is actually plausible is frankly an underestimation of what neil is capable of as a writer.

why the implications of it irk me

can we all just agree that the fandom likes crowley more? and that whenever aziraphale does anything slightly complex it’s often times either met with “oh nonono here’s this reason that doesn’t allow him any complexity” or “i hate him!!!! (also doesn’t allow complexity)”

you can adore crowley. i adore him too, i relate to him very deeply. but i love aziraphale too and i’m kind of tired of how frequent the aziraphale slander is.

and coffee theory, if i’m being honest, feels very much like y’all just can’t handle aziraphle being anything more than “silly little gay angel running the bookshop”. it feels like people just can’t handle the fact that he has his own motivations and feelings and that he truly thinks he’s doing the right thing.

and it’s to the point that you need to convince yourself he was DRUGGED so that you can accept his decisions?? y’all. did we watch the same show?

[lenteur]

it's so "funny" that whenever a catastrophe happens, everyday/poor people are the first ones to be asked to give money when rich people/companies literally exist... makes you wonder why they (the rich) are not asked to donate. only make an appearance in a music video to "show support" to the victims and their job here is done.

[vocalsynthbdays]

hi um i was wondering if you could but my favorite vipper/utauloid on your list 👉👈 their name is Mochizuki Kei and they are themed around and released on Halloween

oh sure !! and thank you for the ask !!!

i was going ot post them last year, and if you look at my last years halloween post under the cut youll see me discussing them there iirc, however i didnt post them as i wasnt sure of how to refer to them , and what their creator is presenting them as and stuff ?

the utau wikia says that kei is just called a transphobic slur by their creator

and shows they rather be refered to with feminine terms

also the fact that they are specifically being described as "becoming" a cool beauty, rather than like, dressing as one, makes me think this is more permanent, like transitioning, rather than crossdressing

ive also had people say that the most accurate translation of the word used to describe their gender is just "trap", which absolutely is transphobic

i think a better translation of "otokonoko" is more like "crossdresser" though ?? calling a character who says they want to be refered to in feminie ways a crossdresser instead is transphobis either way though

which makes it seem like this is like, a transfem character being presented in a transphobic way by their creator to me ??

as such, as a trans person myself, i didnt want to uncritically post about a character who is seemingly being refered to in such a transphobic way without knowing more about them and being sure that what im writing is true

kei reads a bit like grell from black butler to me ig ASDHKJASHDK like, a character who is being called male but says theyre a woman and wants to be refered ot with feminie terms ?? i have no idea what words are used to dscribe grell in japanese though, im only bringing this up as have another example to compare kei to

i could totally be all wrong about this though ???? i know that japanese words for gender do not easily translate to english, as they come from a different culture and society, so the words used specifically within that culture and society need to be viewed within that context to fully make sense, if you get what i mean,, and ik that my views and knowledge of gender as a person living in the uk and being on the (largely american) english-speaking internet are going to be different to those of people living on the other side of the world to me, so i get that my interpretation of kei could be completely wrong

to me in my knowledge though, the fact they want to be refered to with feminine terms and want to "become" a cool beauty seems to be pretty indicitative of them just being transfem, rather than a crossdresser like their creator says

i really cannot be certain though, and i am completely open to being corrected by anyone who knows better, or can give anything on this topic !!

so since i have such doubts about kei, their gender, what to call them, and how they translate from japanese to english, i decided not to post about them ahskjdhjkasdh

tldr: i didnt post kei because to me they seem to be a transfem character being presented in a transphobic way, but i dont know japanese and cannot be sure that is the case, so i chose againt posting them

[trollocs-ooc]

Icon Slashr still has the christmas hat...i cant bring myself to take it away from them...

[shipmistress9]

Trying not to take it personal that my posts/comments get deleted without a comment when other people just get gentle warnings in similar situations.

[theghostofwilburtheworm]

im in the process of rewatching the dhmis tv show which got me thinking a whole lot about lesley and im going bananas

[onipanda379]

i really love world building but i also keep overthinking it way too much. like, i just started using onenote to flesh out concepts and so much of it just wont ever come up and its sorta overwhelming me a bit

bc i realized too late that i've made a fatal flaw this entire time

its supposed ot be a modern setting but with magic and stuff, and all my notes arent even about the present day! its all about olden times when gods were real and ravaged the world. when they wouldn't exist in the modern setting

now that i'm more focused on hte modern idea, i don't know what to do with soleil, since he was set during a more medieval time

[monzabee]

short n' sweet (social media au) - op81

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where in an attempt to figure out who Y/N is dating, the internet come up with theories only to realise she is dating none other than Oscar Piastri and chaos ensues.

Pairing: oscar piastri x pop star!reader (model used: sabrina carpenter) (and domingooo)

Warnings: cursing (i think), sabrina carpenter is horny but it's okay we ride with it, feat the internet being the internet, i have a big fat crush on mercello hernandez so you have been warned

Auhtor note: came all this way, had to explain, direct from @percervall; mar this one is for you, i haven't had this much fun in a long time so thank you for indulging my brainrot and excitement😭🫶

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

yourusername

Liked by elleusa, taylorswift, gracieabrams and 3,255,376 others

yourusername: toto, i have a feeling we're not in kansas anymore. short'n sweet cumming to a city near you! first stop: columbus, ohio

user: bro just give me ONE chance

user: SHE'S GORGEOUS ❤️❤️❤️❤️

user: te amo diva

user: don't know if i wanna be with her or i wanna be her

view all 5,594 comments.

user: see you tomorrow pookie

user: cant wait to see u 🫶🏼✨🤍

user: she’s the sweetest & shortest 💋

user: it’s Y/N's world and we’re just living in it😭🤍🤍💋💋💋

user: is he talking about TOTO FUCKING WOLFF??

user: why is f1 everywhere, no she isn't😭

tiktokuser1

caption: bed chem from opening night!!

user: that mic is ON! ✨

user: I LOVE THIS DIVA!!

user: watching this isn’t enough, I have to be there

user: I need that bed.. NEOWWW

user: SHE BETTER BRING THE DAMN TOUR TO AUSTRALIA CAUSE THE FOMO IS CRAZY

user: oh i think she'll be bringing the tour to australia alright

user: what does that mean??

user: what do you know!!

tiktokuser2

caption: YO I DON'T KNOW WHAT IS HAPPENING BUT SHORT N' SWEET TOUR IS THAT GIRL!!

user: 'have you ever tried this one?' ugh her mind😭

user: IS THIS THE NEW NONESENSE OUTRO FOR THIS TOUR I NEED TO KNOW

user: i can't take my eyes off this, i've been staring at it for the past five minutes!

user: okay diva we see you👀

yourusername

Liked by madisonbeer, oscarpiastri, haileybieber and 4,182,928 others

yourusername: hello l.a., are you ready to wrap it up?

user: OSCAR JACK PIASTRI WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?

user: okay who is he and why is he lurking in my diva's likes?

user: MY QUEEN (me typing this while listening to espresso 👀)

user: just a girl living life and making everyone fall in love with her

user: i’m 26 and AFRAID of Y/N Y/LN

view all 7,011 comments.

user: the caption and the last pic with the kittens the vibes don't match i love you😭

yourusername: stoppp, i diee

user: how is this tour like halfway over ????? second leg of tour maybe???? 😭

tiktokuser3

caption: have you ever tried this one?

user: i don't know how she keeps coming up with these

user: imagine having this much freak, i wouldn't be able to leave my house

user: am i the only one who is excited for the last three shows in la??

user: her boyfriend is one lucky guy that's for sure

user: she has a boyfriend??

user: girl who do you think the guy in the white jacket and the thick accent is?

tiktokuser4

caption: omg guys😭😭 domingo is here😭😭

user: CAME ALLL THIS WAAY HAD TO EXPLAAAIN

user: deerect from domingoo

user: okay hear me out... mercello and Y/N??

user: noooo, this crossover is actually too insane i can't handle it

user: look at how he's looking at her bro's down bad😭

tiktokuser5

caption: WE'VE LOST HER TO DOMINGO GUYS

user: somebody call kyle and tell him the good news😭

user: who's kyle?

user: omg do you live under a rock or something?

user: am i the only one who thinks they are not dating?

yourusername

Liked by tiktok, oscarpiastri, marcellohdz and 3,669,817 others

yourusername: LA night 2 ♥️💋 second locationnnn maybe he’s biiii!!! see you tonight for our last show of the US leg :’) how the hell

user: God bless your Dad’s genetics, Domingo

user: OMG DOMINGOOO… “NOW SHES WITH A HOT GUY BUT HE LOOKS GAY, HEARD HIS NAMES DOMINGO”

user: DOMINGO IS CHEATING ON KELSEY

user: no hate to domingo, but oscar jack piastri liked this post under 1 minute😭😭

user: i think we've established that she is probably dating marcello, please stop with the delulu

user: Y/N IM HERE👹

view all 5,179 comments.

user: marcelo hernandez had the opportunity to do the funniest thing ever… and he did

user: the budget for this tour is insane… feels like a literal broadway production

user: came all this way, let her explain deeerect from LA

yourusername

Liked by oscarpiastri, madisonbeer, marcellohdz and 4,928,234 others

yourusername: date night but make it our way tagged: oscarpiastri

user: i'm sorrryyyy, but the dress is giving andie andersonn

yourusername: princess sophia is having some fun tonightt

user: this is still the most mind boggling couple ever BUT YOU LOOK GOOD THO

user: i'm so normal about this, i am sooooo normal about this

user: it's giving ross from friends and i am here for it

user: the best hard launch in the history of hard launches

oscarpiastri: great show, even better after party

yourusername: why did i know you were going to comment this

oscarpiastri: i'm literally sitting right next to you and you saw me type it

user: unhinged gf x calm bf duo is superior and this is the biggest proof ever

view all 6,728 comments.

marcellohdz: but what about domingo...

yourusername: i'm sorry domingo...

user: but is mark webber still alive, MARK ARE YOU THERE

oscarpiastri

Liked by yourusername, landonorris, mclaren and 928,256 others

oscarpiastri: came all this way, had to explain... tagged: yourusername

yourusername: 100% recommend, 5-star service

oscarpiastri: 😐

yourusername: 🥰

user: mister oscar jack piastri god bless your dad's genetics indeed

user: world class driving, world class relationship reveal

landonorris: okay but do we get free concert tickets ooor?

oscarpiastri: 😐

yourusername: of course!

user: this is actually so cute i'm going to throw up

view all 3,156 comments.

user: have you ever tried this one just took a whole other meaning

user: wait, are we going to see them together in las vegas??

user: the hard launching is insaneee

[cherryblossom-enthusiast]

Unrequited (Arthur Morganxf! Reader) - RDR2

A/N: Whoever decided that there could be a button where Arthur Morgan says "good girl" how ever many times you want, I hope both sides of your pillow are cold.

Synopsis: Arthur loved Mary, didn't he? So, why was it he was spouting all this nonesense about loving you?

Warning/ Tags: Angst. But like SO MUCH FLUFF. Allusions to Sex. Mentions of violence. Coarse language. Kissing. Hurt/ Comfort. Angst with a happy ending.

Word Count: 6.1K

Masterlist

Even now, Arthur Morgan was a lovesick fool for Mary Linton.

You shouldn’t have been surprised; you weren’t really. Arthur doesn’t talk about her much anymore, but you’d known him long enough to see he’d never really let that part of himself go. The part of him that loves. That dreams of something better for himself even if he thinks he’s the big, bad, scary man that he is.

And maybe in some aspect, he is that man.

Threatening, bartering, killing. Sometimes you look into his eyes and see nothing but a hard, desolate exterior that wouldn’t think twice about shooting anybody up so long as Dutch told him to do it. But the reality Arthur Morgan doesn’t want to accept is that there’s goodness hiding within the moulding of a gunslinger enforcer.

You can glimpse that goodness when he helps a woman on the road or gives medicine to a man dying from snake poison, and you can especially see it when he’s hauling his ass on his horse to help Mary even when he’s being pulled left and right to finish errands for the camp.

So no, you shouldn’t have been surprised that Arthur would ride out the earliest he could to help his past lover.

But hell, why did it have to hurt you every damn time?

He returns to camp just after the sun rises and light starts to colour the world around you. The air is still crisp, and the heat of the sun is non-existent on your skin.  You’re brushing your horse’s mane when you hear the familiar holler of his voice towards Bill. You don’t look towards him as his horse trots towards the hitching post.

As he dismounts, he greets you, a little pep in the tone of his voice.

It irritates you immediately.

“Mornin’.”

You grit your teeth and put on the brightest smile you can muster. “Mornin’!”

He takes a moment. His eyebrows crease. “Something matter?”

“Uh-?”

“Nothing it’s just-“ he breaks to think about the right words to say. “You don’t look- Never mind.”

This only encourages you to grow your façade stronger. “So,” you start “what’d Mary need this time?” It comes off a little pettier than you intended it to be. He doesn’t deserve that, hell, Mary didn’t deserve your bitterness either, fine woman she was.

That little fact seemed inconsequential however every time he uttered her name and the familiar feeling of jealousy pricked, downright stabbed itself in your gut.

He picks up on your tone, not appreciating it one bit. The displeasure that carves into his expression almost makes you wince and the fake smile that’s plastered on your face twitches the slightest bit. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You take the coward’s way out, you always do.

You break eye contact and continue to brush away the embarrasment. You’re rewarded by a loving whinny and it almost distracts you from the ice-cold awkwardness you’ve built around this conversation. “Nothin’, just asking.”

Whether he believes your fib or doesn’t, he doesn’t let it show. But him moving on has you thanking God regardless. He takes out a brush, starting to work on his own mare’s mane. “Good girl.” He whispers. Warmth creeps up your neck as your ears tingle towards the baritone timber of his voice. It makes you lose all self-respect for yourself. He sneaks a look at you for the tiniest bit of time before continuing your conversation. “Her brother was involved in some weird religious group.”

“Is that right?”

“Yep,” he sighs “buncha turtle lovers.”

That gets a genuine chuckle out of you even though you don’t understand it. When you glance towards Arthur’s direction, the indifference has faded away from his features and all that’s left is a sarcastic smirk in its place. All frost has melted away and all too quickly you’re back to the ease that usually came with your dynamic.

You can’t help but throw a snide joke his way. “Gosh, if you’re still this involved in their family drama, you should just make it official and propose again.”

The idea haunts you, of course, it does. But you weren’t going to let Arthur know that. The more you joke, the more it becomes real, the more your true feelings become buried underneath a pile of age-old lies and supportive nonsense. Because at the end of the day, if it would make Arthur happy, you’d keep biting your lip and pushing him towards that happiness. 

Love worked funny like that.

His smirk falls and you’re worried you pushed it a tad bit too far. “I tried once and I don’t know if it’ll ever happen.” He turns almost sombre, like thinking back on old memories that were equal parts sweet and bitter and this bothers you in a different way.

“I sincerely think if you were to propose to her right now, she’d say yes with no questions asked.” You hope he sees the genuineness in your intentions.

He merely gives you a scoff, slightly shaking his head. “Yeah well,” he trails off. “It’d never work out now.”

You decide not to continue pushing. It’s obvious he doesn’t want to dig deeper into the situation and even in your sorry narrow-minded state, you could understand and respect keeping your mouth shut when you needed to. You lick your lips and stick another sickly-sweet smile to your face. “Well, you continue on moping, but I can’t say I’ll be sticking around to see you grumbling around.”

That gets him to snort. “And where will the rough and tough princess be today? Helping a rabbit off the road? Wait-“ he pauses for dramatic effect “Talking to the birds and singing em’ a song?” He makes himself chortle quietly at the idea.

“I have a date.”

That gets him to stop cold turkey. He’s only met with a smug appearance on your end. “You?”

You fake great offence and snap at him. “Hey! Even I can seduce someone if I try!”

“No, I know- I” He appears shaken up about your revelation and for a moment, the tiniest fraction of a second, you could almost see the tensing of his jaw. “With who?”

It’s your turn to leer at him. “Why’s it matter?”

“It doesn’t I-“ he stutters “I just-“

You raise an eyebrow. “Well if you must know, he works at the hardware store.” You say as you recall the day you met the gentleman. “I helped him carry out some tasks and he gave me a daffodil in exchange, of all things.” You pointed at the flower currently tucked in the band of your hat. “Cutest thing.”

“Is that right?” He gruffed out.

“Mhm, so I’m gonna escort him and his granddaughter to a birthday party out in Strawberry.” You giggle. “He said he needed a ‘fighter’ with him because of his ‘old bones’ and ‘lumbago’” You roll your eyes. “Sounds like Uncle.”

This seems to take Arthur by surprise. The dark clouds in his eyes clear out and his eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Wha-?”

You bite your lip to keep your internal laughter from spilling. “Listen, I offered.” You explain. “He’s been giving me discounts at the store and that girl is just the sweetest thing and well-“ you shrug, “I couldn’t say no like the goddamn softie I am.”

The blades in his eyes dull at the statement. The mysterious scrunch of his shoulders from earlier disappears. He steps away from his horse and walks around his mare to shorten the gap between the two of you. It reminds you that he’s tall, much bigger than you are. “That bleedin’ heart of yours is gonna get you killed one day.”

He mutters his words lightly and yet, there’s some odd sadness you don’t understand attached to it. He puckers his lips as if he wants to say more on the matter yet can’t.

You put on your best Arthur impression, puffing up your chest and scrunching your face. “Well, somehow this don’t suit me, now does it?”

He wouldn’t even have to touch you.

At that, Arthur chuckles deeply. “Nah, you obviously ain’t tall enough to be me, shortcake.” He jabs you playfully at the shoulder and in response, you over-exaggerate the motion of being pushed back.

Though, if he really wanted to, Arthur could have you on your back in less than a second.

Before you can go further down that rabbit hole of thoughts, you carry on with the train of humour. “Besides, heard from Jerry there’ll be plenty of cute fellas around to keep me entertained.”

The clouds start to roll back in his demeanour, dare you say with a touch of thunder this time. “You gonna be looking at other men?” The lightness in his voice is gone, only replaced with the venom from before.

You’re befuddled at the quick-changing atmosphere, but don’t go back on what you said. “All I’ve got to look at are you folks all day,” you quip “A girl needs a change of scenery every once in a while.”

He crosses his arms, clearly not amused. “We not pretty enough for you?”

“Well, you are certainly, but I don’t know about Pearson.”

You purse your lips immediately and silently curse yourself at the admission. That same old shit-eating grin makes a comeback. “Is that right?”

You push his arm back, but unlike him, you hardly get the man to move more than half an inch. “Oh shut it.” You quickly un-hitch your horse and mount her. All you want to do is wipe his lips so it turns back into his usual frown, but you’re afraid you’d just embarrass yourself further. “I won’t be back for a while.” You pull your horse away and pat her on the side. “Didn’t know children’s birthday parties could take so damn long.”

“How long will you be gone for?” He mumbles, voice noticeably quieter.

“However long it takes for a fella to get me off.”

Arthur’s eyes widen. The sun highlights the tips of his ears go red. “Wha- What?” He strained out like he wasn’t quite sure of what he just heard.

A real, true laugh comes out of you then as you spur your horse into action, cantering away from camp. You don’t wait to hear the rest of what he has to say. His flushed look is enough of a prize to take with you.

You replay it all the way to Strawberry.

------------------

It was well past sundown when you return. Truthfully, you don’t even know what time it is, all you knew was that you were gone long enough that laying down on your cot would be much appreciated by your aching muscles. There’s a light breeze and you take your hat off, shaking out your hair.

The party was a success. Jerry and his granddaughter got to and from Strawberry safely, and really, that was all you could wish for when you were being hunted constantly because of the bounty on your head. You knew you offered, hell you were pretty self-approving when you did. But even then, you made sure to ask if Jerry really wanted a gunslinger as an escort, to which he replied, “Oh, shove it.”

Wonderful man.

The rest of the camp, well those that were here anyways, aside from Bill who was back on guard duty, are already fast asleep. The crackle of the fire is the only sound filling your ears other than your own footsteps.

There’s a small oil lamp turned on in the corner of your vision, brightening the blue hue and you instantly know the only bastard who would be up at this hour.

He’s drawing again. His brows are focused in that way you loved so much and he only looks up from his journal once you amble closer towards him. You almost hate that you’ve disrupted him. You could watch him draw for hours and hardly get bored.

He closes the book and looks up at you. You nod towards his hands. “You’ll have to show me what you’re working on at some point, Picasso.”

Arthur lets a huff through his nose. “Not gonna happen.” He motions you to sit beside him and you take him up on his offer. You catch a whiff of his scent, something like tobacco mixed with old leather. It may have been slightly repulsive to anyone else, but this was Arthur, and all it made you feel was safe. “You was gone a long time.” He points out, a bitter tinge to his voice. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

You tilt your head at him. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Arthur’s eyes narrow. “You just went off and didn’t come back until now.” The bitter tinge morphs into something like annoyance. “I was worried.” He mumbles low.

“Oh, I was fine.” You bump your shoulder against his, but it again, doesn’t make him sway. “Besides, I had a fella with me.”

His hand, the one closest to you, balls up at his side. He’s always been hard to read, but he clearly isn't happy at your revelation. You had half a mind in this late hour to stew in that fact. “Did you now?”

“Sure, one of them single fathers.” You let a small laugh escape you and shake your head, kicking the dirt with your worn-out boots. “Don’t worry, I’d never steal one from a married woman.”

“Was he…cute?” He mutters.

“Never thought I’d hear the word ‘cute’ come out of Arthur Morgan’s mouth.” You catch a glimpse towards him and again note the same pink twinge on his ears, probably embarrassed at being called out on something so stupid.

You finally start to feel that familiar flutter in your stomach hidden behind all that supportive “do what makes you happy nonsense”.

No, you couldn’t have that.

So, you bury it down.

It just became easier that way after all these years.

“That ain’t the damn point.” He continues to grumble. “Was he?”

You ponder the question for a short while. “I mean, he was alright in the looks department, not cute-“

He cuts you off quickly. “Just alright?” He scoffs lightly.

You remember the aforementioned single father in question. His looks are the last thing on your mind. He was alright, not cute, not ugly. Sure, you wouldn’t want to sleep with the man, but-

“He was damn good with his kid, and I thought I’d like to get to know someone like that more.” You reveal through a whisper.

This causes Arthur to frown, but his expression softens. Some of that constant bitterness fades away. “You- “he cuts off and thickly swallows. “You weren’t doing anything strange were you?”

You can feel a prickle of heat in your face at the question. “I mean, we talked sure, but if anything, I just maybe wanted to indulge in a fantasy.” You shrug.

He snaps his gaze back towards you. “A fantasy?”

“What it’d be like-“

God, why was it so hard to say?  “Being normal, having a family.”

The silence that follows is thick and you immediately scold yourself for ruining a perfectly airy conversation just like this morning. You regret it, you do, but you can’t deny how nice it is to finally get that dream off your chest. It wasn’t original, what woman at camp, save Mrs. Adler, didn’t want that stability?

The feeling of riding was freeing. It gave you the grace of flying during a time when you were being held down and that will never change. But nowadays, you find that instead of being held down, you want to be held close. To be called important, matter to someone, so that when you felt lost soaring, you’d always have a beacon home.

“Damn it, you can’t be sayin’ things like that.” He forces out a murmur, a shred of his usual gruff tone.

“You ever think about that?” You tread lightly. “Having kids? Building a farm out somewhere and just-“ a deep sigh escapes you. “living and not surviving?”

It takes him a while to answer your question.

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t.” The vulnerability colors his voice and it starts to trip you over the edge.

You nod, pursing your lips. “With Mary?” You meekly ask, the crickets chirping making the exchange more awkward. You almost cringe at the silence of it all.

He tenses at her name and it seems like you get your answer.

“With Mary? I mean-“ He tries to dissuade you with absolutely no conviction in his voice. He pauses and curses under his breath. Arthur shakes his head, closing his eyes a moment. “Y’know, it ain’t always about Mary.”

You scoff in disbelief. “Arthur, it’s always been about Mary.” Sighing deeply, you bite your cheek at the acidic truth. “Even when you met Eliza, it was still about Mary.”

He’s taken aback by your statement and a subtle look of frustration overcomes his features. “No, it hasn’t.”

You want to say more, but your sardonic nature halts at his stoic reply. It’s like your heart stops, a coldness and a shrill wake your senses from the inside out. “What?” Your brain halts, all thought ceasing to exist except to process his next response. He tries to avoid eye contact, but you seek his gaze as you tilt your head sideways. “Arthur, what do you mean?” You repeat more sternly, begging to get a straight answer.

He throws you a stick of dynamite.

The smoke clears and all that’s left is the destruction that caters right in the center of your chest.

“What about you?” His voice is hoarse like this is the most difficult thing he’s ever had to squeeze out of his mouth. “What about when it became you?”

Ka-boom.

There’s no longer just a flutter in your stomach, there’s a whole damn circus, and it decides to release the butterflies you worked so hard to keep from their magical chest of caution.

You shake your head and your body goes rigid. You move away from him and stand abruptly as you place your hands on your hips. He’s quick to follow you on your feet.  A sarcastic laugh leaves your throat before you can stop yourself. “Arthur-“

“No, let me finish.” He steps in front of you and holds your shoulders square, turning your body towards him. Even in your bubbling anger, you hate the way your skin immediately melts under his touch. His eyes and actions are pleading for you to stay, so you let him speak, biting your tongue to keep yourself from interrupting. He stumbles over his words. “It’s been you for a long damn time.” He admits. “But I was, I don’t know-“You notice the light sheen of sweat gracing his forehead. “I was scared to say something.”

“If this is some dumb joke-“

“No!” He immediately denies like he’s appalled you would even think of it in that way. 

“Well,” you sneer “I’m sorry if I have a hard time believing that.” You remove his hands from your shoulders stiffly and start to trudge away back to your horse.

In the years you’d known him, Arthur had been a force, even more so when he was younger and reckless. He was stubborn as a mule and despite keeping the peace for the most part, there was a strut in his step when he walked because he knew he had the power to change that fact whenever he wanted and get away scotch-free. Arthur was arrogant in that way, always threatening people with a smirk or an edge to his voice.

But this is the first time you see him flinch and it happens to be at your curt words.

A lump catches in your throat, but you’re too annoyed to care, all but continuing the short distance back to the hitching posts. Arthur is hot on your tracks, not letting up one bit. Maybe Bill was overhearing, maybe one of the girls stirred awake. It didn’t matter, you couldn’t care less. You just wanted to get the hell away from here.

His catches up to you in no time, his strides much longer than yours. He steps in front of your path and when you make a move to step aside, he mirrors your actions. You click your tongue, glowering at him from beneath your lashes. “Look,” he starts “now I know you may not like me, but I-“

That gets your anger rising to incomparable heights. “Not like you?!” You practically shout out. Looking around, you remember where you are and it’s the only reason your voice lowers. “Arthur, I’ve liked you since the day I met you!”

His eyebrows pull together and his nose crinkles. Arthur’s face morphs into something like agitation from its previous confusion. “So, why all this attitude?”

You’re dejected. “Why all this attitude?” You softly hiss. “Why all this attitude when I’ve loved you for years and all I’ve heard about is Mary?”

Arthur winces. He steps back from you, recoiling like he’s just been shot by a sniper rifle.

Good, you think. He should feel like a right asshole.

“’Why all this attitude’ he says!” You giggle manically at the sheer ridiculousness of it all. “Where do I even start?” You begin to rant, hands back on your hips to give you some sort of anchor from sinking towards the ground.  “I don’t know Arthur, maybe it’s because while I’ve been here stewing in self-pity, you were always out seeing her.  Maybe, it’s because every time you were young, drunk, and broken, you’d come back whispering her name, mistaking her for me, and I was the one helping you pick up the pieces.”

Your heart was racing a million yards a minute, but you couldn’t stop now. All the hurt and sorry baggage poured out like molten lava, burning with years of intensity. “Or maybe-“ you point an index finger at him and snap sarcastically as if you’ve just discovered a newfound truth “Maybe, it was because I worked so damn hard to tell myself I wasn’t in love with you and you just-“ your voice breaks.

Arthur doesn’t interrupt you at any part of your monologuing. Just like usual, you can hardly decipher his emotions except notice the colour draining from his face.

“So, I’m sorry that I don’t believe you when you say It’s been me.” You continue. “You’ve given me no reason to believe otherwise.”

You sidestep him, not taking a single look back in fear of him seeing the tears threatening to spill from your eyes. You unhitch your horse, giving her a slight pat before mounting her again.

- - - - - - - - - - -

You don’t see or speak to Arthur for a few days after your argument.

You don’t have much energy to talk to anyone really.

So, you somehow end up back at a familiar field surrounded by evergreen trees and flowers. The crystalline water of the hot springs gleams in your eyes and a chill wind sends shivers up your spine.

You set up camp and stay a while. The serenity of the woods is welcomed. You don’t consider yourself the best hunter, but fishing didn’t require the same amount of dexterity. It's quiet, peaceful even. All you hear is the chirp of the birds and the steady flow of water.

It gives you time to cool off, reflect on everything that’s happened.

The more time you spend out here, the more hesitant you are to leave. It's a nice reprieve from the perils of civilization and you find yourself slipping away, trying to grasp a sense of comfort that's unimaginable for you most days.

Tends to happen when you're an outlaw, you suppose.

But one day, as you’re laying under the shade of a tree, feeling the blades of soft grass beneath you, you hear heavy footsteps starting to approach.

There's no need to bother even acting surprised.

Arthur takes a seat beside you with a deep sigh. He leans back, using his hands to support him.

The both of you are silent for a while, not one peep out of your mouths. You expect it to be uncomfortable but having him by your side brings an ease you haven’t felt in days. Arthur continues to stare up at the sun starting to descend in the horizon and you follow suit, eyes trained to the sky above.

“When I met you, I thought you were nothing more than a naïve, innocent little thing.” He starts, baritone drawl catching you off guard. You don’t realize how much you’d missed hearing it until now. “You were this small girl I needed to protect. “

 You glance towards him and notice the small smile now gracing his lips, his eyes glossed over like remembering memories from so very long ago. “You could barely ride a horse, hell, you could barely mount one.”

The genuine warmth in his voice continues to chip away any frustrations left within you as you recall those days like snapshots in your mind.

“Every day, it was something new with you.” He laughs out, making your heart traitorously skip a beat. “You were learning the ropes of it all, and for a while, you were just a ratty brat who wanted to try on boots that were too big for her.”  He pauses and you look at him more clearly this time, head turned towards him fully in an effort to really listen to what he has to say. “But Mary, she-“ he swallows “I could just turn my thoughts off with her.”

He gives out another sigh. “I loved her, I did.” He admits. “It was so easy loving her at the time. We had no expectations of one another, and then all of a sudden that shifted and I don’t know if I could have been the man she needed me to be.”

You ache but it’s not because he mentions his past lover’s name.

“So I ended up actin’ like a goddamn fool. Boozin’, sleeping around.” He groans, obviously not proud of his previous ventures. “Dutch and Hosea, they couldn’t pull me out of it. I mean, they tried everything, but then-“ He releases a relieved chuckle. “Some woman I’d never met before poured a bucket of cold water over my head and pulled out her revolver, threatening to shoot my dumb ass if I didn’t get up.”

You snort as you’re reminded of that day.

It was dry and humid, overall making it a miserable summer afternoon. Arthur stumbled back into camp smelling like he was doused in moonshine, groggy and slurring his words together. Even Hosea, forgiving as he was, cringed at his sorry state.

You just about had it.

After collecting some from the nearby stream, you pushed Arthur down and doused him in ice-cold water. He sputtered, clearly not happy about what you just did and attempted to get up to confront you. You pulled out your gun before he could and shot right between his legs onto the dirt below. “If you don’t pull your damn weight around here, I’ll make sure the next shot hits!” you shouted, utterly disappointed.

“Good times.” You mutter and Arthur’s smile widens.

“Sure.” He agreed. “When my eyes started to clear, I swear to god I thought I was looking at an angel.”

You had a hard time believing that too. “You looked at a woman who just shot at you and thought she was angelic?”

He tries to find better words. “I guess you looked ethereal all together.” He tries to explain. “Like you were something I’d see at the pearly white gates of judgement.”

You sat amused at his thoughts. “That so?”

He’s finally able to make eye contact with you and revels in that fact. “My vision was still a little hazy and you just stood over me, posture straight, hat on.” He takes his hand and scratches his chin. It’s a tick for when he’s nervous. “Your hair had a glow to it from the sun and your eyes, they just- had this fire in em’ I’d never seen before.”

His shoulders drop and the mood suddenly turns mellow. “When we were ridin’ around and ended up at this clearin’, you just took off without me and I realized how much you’d grown into yourself right under my nose. You didn’t change much, you were still the same old, sunshine, animal-lovin’ princess, but the way you carried yourself? Asserted yourself more?  God-.”

He holds your gaze as he continues and it’s like the world holds its breath for whatever he has to say next. “You rode off, hair wild, not looking back at me one bit and I just couldn’t stop starin’ at you because I thought you were such a damn sight.”

“It made me wonder-“ his words trail off. He stops for a while and you let him. You know how much courage it was taking him right now to admit this to you, letting down those guarded stone walls he loved so much.

You lick your lips, and in an act of your own bravery, you settle your hand on top of his, to which he visibly softens upon. “Made you wonder?” You urge.

“If that’s what Mary felt like, seeing me go all those times.” He finishes. “Because I hated it. I hated every time you got on that horse and left, and it would only hurt less whenever you came back.”

Arthur’s hand starts to clench, but you flip his hand in yours so you can interlock your fingers properly. You give his hand a squeeze and the tension eases off.

“But then I hear you wantin’ to go off with some man and all I could do was mope like a sorry idiot because what if-“ His throat works. “What if you rode off and didn’t come back this time?”

“Oh, Arthur.” You softly coo.

His hand starts to make small slow circles over your hands. “You know I realized something when I last saw Mary that I didn’t before.”

You’re expectant to hear what it is.

“Every time it got a little too rough between us, she was done with me.” He perceived. “I don’t blame her, she deserves someone to make her happy, but I wasn’t gonna change fast enough in her eyes.” He squeezes your hand tighter. “But you- you didn’t expect me to change on a dime. You were patient, you understood that I didn’t want to start a family not because I didn’t want to, but because I was afraid of feeling that pain again.”

After clenching his jaw, he takes his other palm and cups your cheek with the utmost tenderness a man of his size could muster. “With you, I feel like I can be something else, something good.” You lean towards his touch, begging that if this were a dream, you never wanted to be woken up. His gaze is soft on your features, highlighted by the starlight above.

“I fell in love with you a long time ago Arthur Morgan.” You confess. “I keep running away because no one holds me close enough to keep me somewhere.”

You feel a lump in your throat as you remember all the times you rode off wanting to hear him shout "Wait!", but he never did.

“I know and I’m sorry for that sweetheart, I really am.”

Tears start to escape your eyes and you don’t bother wiping them away. “Loving you hurt so much Arthur.” You whimper. “I started to pack all of those feelings away if it meant I didn’t have to ruin what we already had.”

He presses his rough lips to your forehead and leans back. “I know sweetheart, I’m sorry.” He tilts your chin up with a finger. “If I could go back and change the way I handled it all, I would.”

“Give me something to believe that this is real. That I’m not just making this up in my misery.”

Arthur takes a moment to look at you before he speaks. He takes the time to figure out how he’s supposed to approach what he wanted to convey “Close your eyes for just a second.” He mumbled, his voice pleading.

You don’t question it and do what he wants you to do. You fully accept you’d be one of those pathetic individuals who’d follow him off a cliff if it meant staying with him and keeping him safe.

In the darkness, you feel him pick up your hands and place them on his chest. Under your palms, you feel the fast thrum of the beat of his heart and the laboured way his chest rises. You stay like that for a few seconds and match your breathing to his.

“Okay,” his voice cuts through your thoughts “now open your eyes.” You follow his command and you open your eyes to Arthur with a tender expression. You feel his breathing get faster, like he’s almost waiting for a reaction.

You tilt your head. “What?”

Arthur chuckles quietly at your question. “This is me trying to prove I’m serious about you.” His hands are still around your wrists, keeping your palms on his chest in place.

“By what? Letting me feel you up?” You jokingly say. “Arthur, who do you think’s being lugging your heavy ass around when you’re drunk, cause it sure as hell ain’t Uncle-“

Even in the darkness that surrounded you, you can sense his embarrassment. He starts to sputter to quickly get words out “Wha- no, that’s not what- I- you-“ He stutters, clearly flustered at the comment. He sighs. “Now, that’s not what I meant and you know it, sweetheart.”

“So then, what?” You push. You’re not trying to be obtuse in any way, but you want to hear a proper answer.

Arthur swallows awkwardly. “I’m just- I want you to know that my heart beats for you.”

It puts you in such a complete state of shock, it renders you speechless.

Just a couple of days ago, you would have been thirsty to hear those words drip out of his lips, but now that you’ve actually heard him say it, you don’t know how to exactly respond.

“Sweetheart?” He calls, voice laced with worry.

You slowly lean down and press your ear against his chest, wrapping your arms around him. He smells like gun smoke and mountain air. The fast bu-dump of his heart is intoxicating, making you break out into a smile.

After a few seconds, he slowly places his own arms around you and pulls you in closer. His hold is firm. Secure. A bandwagon of bandits or federal agents could show up this instant and he wouldn’t let anything or anyone so much as even look at you the wrong way.

He tucks your head under his chin. “I can’t give you a house, or children, or land right now, but I want you to know you have my heart.” He places another soft kiss on your forehead. “You’ve had it for a long time and it’ll always be yours as long you’ll have me.”

“Well, I never thought Arthur Morgan was capable of such sweet words.” You tease.

You feel the rumble of his chest as he freely laughs. “Well, there’s a lot we don’t know about each other it seems.”

You give his statement some thought. “Maybe we can start to find those things about each other out.”

He nods against you. “I’d like that.”

You sniffle and follow him in letting out a laugh. “I’ll end up falling asleep here if we keep this up.”

He snickers at your comment. “I guess I’ll just have to carry you to bed then, huh?” He teases back, his tone light and playful.

You push away from his chest and fix your gaze directly at him, a dazed smile on your face. “I guess you’ll just have to, Arthur Morgan.”

His breathing hitches, obviously not expecting to be accepted on his offer. “Yeah, I suppose I will, sweetheart.”

You place a kiss squarely on his mouth and he reciprocates it almost immediately.

You grasp his face with your hands and do something you’ve been wanting to do since the day you met him.

His lips, though slightly chapped are soft and his stubble that he hasn’t shaved for weeks tickles your cheeks, poking you in a pleasurable way. You taste the tobacco on him and though you don’t smoke, maybe through kissing him you get the appeal. Fingers thread through your braid that’s falling apart by the second.

For the first time, you don't hold the butteflies back.

You part your lips to deepen the kiss and allow him to explore your mouth with his tongue.

It becomes hungry. Insatiable. It's years of pent up frustration and confusion exploding into a possession that consumes your whole body. He groans and you barely notice when he scoops you up, hooking his arm under your legs. “God, we could have been doing this earlier.” He growls.

As you giggle against his lips, Arthur continues to carry you, walking briskly towards your tent.

And the world around you stayed silent that night, except for a few hushed noises.

- - - - - - -

A/N: Yee-haw. Pls interact, I need to to talk to more RDR people lmao. pls.

[mrfoox]

Ngl, I need so much more attention and compliments 😔

[zvdvdlvr]

meet the team + Spencer Reid

     Spencer had put off introductions for a while. It would be accurate to assume that he was anxious- for fear of his coworkers potentially scaring you away and for fear that you would finally realize better bachelors/bachelorettes were out there. Most of all, he was worried that confirming your relationship to the BAU would drive the two of you apart just like it had done for Hotch, Rossi, and Gideon.

     But you were excited to meet the team, and they were equally (if not more) excited to meet you. Derek was skeptical but overally looking forward to meeting the person Spencer had been gushing about for the past seven months.

     Spencer hadn’t shown any pictures of you to the team, instead keeping the element of surprise on your side. He had assured them that whatever expectations they had were probably wrong.

     The two of you were set to have dinner at the Mexican joint uptown around 6. Spencer had told the team that you would be coming right after work, so you wouldn’t have time to change into fancier attire.

     When the team all filed into their cars and slid into the booths of the restaurant, Spencer’s eyes consistently flitted to the door. He was beyond ready to see you and get the long-awaited introductions over with. And to eat.

     “Does she wear Mary Janes?” Penelope asked. “Is she a… librarian? She probably had glasses like you.”

     Derek laughs. “Yeah, she’s definitely a female version of Spencer.”

     Spencer looks over at Derek with a glare that the latter only shrugs off.

     “Enough,” JJ cuts in. “You guys aren’t three.”

     “What color do you think her glasses are?” Emily asks Penelope. “Purple, probably, to match Spencer’s vest.”

     Penelope gasps loudly. “Oh! You’re right!”

     Imagine the BAU’s surprise when Spencer’s face relaxes and he stands up when a woman with a stained light grey shirt walks in. The only other thing the team can see is your hair: pulled into two tight braidsSpencer practically floats over to greet you, smiling impossibly wide as you look over to him.

     Rossi chuckles at the open-mouthed Emily, Penelope, and Derek. JJ and Hotch both shake their heads. When you both approach, the team can see that your tan pants are stained with grease and paint. Your boots are covered with grime, but your face is bright as you greet them all with a smile.

     “Hi! I’m y/n,” you say as Spencer lets you slide into the seat beside him. “Sorry for the mess. I’ve been crazy busy lately and didn’t have time to run home.”

     Penelope physically shooes away your apology. “Nonesense! I love your hair! Do you do it yourself?”

     Spencer exhales when you slyly link your fingers with his. The worst part is over, and you’re being accepted by the team. Perfect.

     “Thank you!” You say excitedly. “I usually do it myself, but Spencer sometimes does it if I’m super busy. He’s really good at braiding, honestly.”

     ‘Aww’s are heard from everyone and Spencer’s face turns red. “Thanks, y/n.”

     “You’re welcome, darlin’,” you answered with a smile.

[carolmunson]

18+ stoned!reader x stoned!eddie, some semi smut found this in my drafts from a couple days ago that i wrote when i was...also stoned. utter nonesense, most of it.

“Shh—hehe-shh, no, no, we have to be — hahaha — sh, sh, quiet,” he whisper yells, stumbling over himself while he nearly knocks a lamp off of a side table in Steve Harrington’s living room. The rest of the gang filled the guest bedrooms, leaving you both on the pull out couch.

His sweaty hand clasps yours as you finally make it to the kitchen, squinting in the light against the white tiles.

“Ugh, put the dimmer on,” you whine into another peal of ‘quiet’ giggles.

“Okay, okay,” he nods, leaning against the wall while he twists the light switch knob, the lights going to a low yellow.

“That’s better — shit,” he huffs, grinning.

“What?” you grin back,

“M’stoned as shit, babe,” he laughs, rubbing his swollen red eyes.

“Me—haha, me too,” you laugh back. You both make your way to the abandoned s’mores ingredients on the counter, the reason for the adventure to the kitchen.

“I don’t really get marshmallows,” he says, popping one into his mouth, “Li’ I get them, buh I don’ really get them.”

“True, true,” you nod, breaking a graham cracker in half, staring at the crumbs on the marble, “They’re like — oh my god — holy shit, they’re a fake food.”

“Babe, fuck — you’re so right,” he nods, “Like what’re they even made of?”

“Like…plastic, babe. I think they’re plastic,” you nod back, eyes as wide as they can go — and it’s not wide at all, “Like from space. They’re space plastic.”

“They’re totally space plastic,” he agrees, putting another one in his mouth, “Tasthy, shug-ry, spacthe, plasdic.”

“M’so thirsty,” you complain, turning the sink on with little grace, leaning forward to drink from the faucet.

“Aw, shit, me too — move,” Eddie grumbles, holding his hair back and hip bumping you out of the way.

“Hey!” you whine, hip bumping him back, knocking your forehead against his to get back to the water.

“You hey!” he laughs back, face half reproachful and half mischievous, “I’ll count to five and then hahaha, then it’s my turn.”

You drink quick while he counts down, taking turns in intervals of five until you both think you’ve been drinking water for hours.

“3, 4…”

“Okay enough, you’re waterboarding me,” you gasp after a gulp, turning the sink off.

“You don’t even know what that means.”

“No Ed, you don’t even know what that means.”

“No you,” he tuts, leaning in for a kiss.

“No you,” you tut back, letting him kiss you softly. Unsurprisingly, you both let out simultaneous groans, knowing you’re both on shaky ground if you keep at it. It takes little effort for him to convince you to sit up on the island counter so his hips can line up against yours, ringed and tattooed hands gripping your thighs without thought or care behind it, just need. Just bare need from the roots. He pushes forward, the hard on tenting his boxers pressing up flat against you. Two more breathy groans coming from between your kisses while he rocks against your panties.

“I don’t have a condom with me,” he whispers against your lips.

“Sss…hmmm, it’s okay,” you mumble out, swollen eyes now shut while your body tingles through with pleasure, “S’feelin’reallygood babe.”

“You all extra sensitive?” he asks, the giggles gone, just eyes that want you — brain focused now on chasing the pleasure in his groin.

“Yeah,” you whimper, his chest pressing up against yours when he brings his mouth to your neck. To your spot. The whine you let out is a little too loud and you both know it — enough that he covers your mouth while he keeps going, hips still grinding in a steady rhythm against you. He tugs you down back to the floor by your hips, turning you around without a second thought, oversized t-shirt rucked up to your waist.

“You want me?” he asks, pulling your panties to the side. You nod hurriedly.

“Please,” you whisper, hips wiggling — which makes him laugh, which makes you laugh, and then you look at the marshmallows on the counter and it’s space plastic all over again. Giggles and kisses while he gets ready to ease into you and put you both to bed exhausted.

“I hope the aliens don’t come,” you murmur between sloppy pecks, “For the space plastic.”

The light in the kitchen gets bright, bright, bright, “We’re getting abducted babe.”

“What’re you talking about?” Steve’s annoyed voice echos from the other end of the room, “You guys are being so loud.”

You and Eddie separate like embarrassed high schoolers who got caught kissing behind the bleachers. Like dad walked in on something he shouldn’t have.

“Sorry, Harrington,” Eddie smirks, “We were just—”

“Getting water!” you interrupt.

“Yeah I see that,” Steve huffs, crossing his arms, “It’s all over the floor.”

He’s not wrong, it is, the two of you looking at the tile like kids who are definitely in trouble.

“We’ll clean it up Steve, sorry,” Eddie assures, much more apologetic now.

“Just — go to bed guys,” he sighs, “Or I’m making you sleep in separate rooms next time.”

When he leaves you both toss each other a look, mocking Steve’s exasperated face with another silent outbreak of breathy giggles. After wiping up the water, you put away the snacks together and click the light off, settling back down in the pull out couch under the covers. The high now holding you down in a cozy grip, making your eyes lull and your breaths slow.

“M’sleepy,” you whisper under the crisp sheets.

“Me too,” he nods, intertwining his limbs with yours like he does every night. Curly hair creeping onto your face while he settles his head in the crook of your neck, “But babe?”

“Yeah?” you ask into the quiet of the room, eyes closed, sleep pulling you further and further away.

“M’gonna rail you when we get home tomorrow,” he mutters, half asleep.

“M’kay,” you nod, “Thass—that sounds good. I like that. I’ll get us a ticket.”

“Hm?”

“For the rail…for the railroad.”

“I’ve been workin’ on the rail road,” he sings quietly.

“All the live long day…” you both harmonize, more giggles, sleepy giggles.

“I’ve been workin’ on the rail road, just to pass the time away…”

“Guys,” Steve’s sharp whisper calls from the stairs, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight Steve,” you mumble in unison, singing the song in quiet whispers — falling asleep before you even make it to the end.

[the-travelling-witch]

𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋

summary: having your period is already stressful enough and being in the devildom doesn't make it any better; luckily, these demons are here to help

pairings: mammon :: belphegor :: barbatos x reader

warnings: period-having reader (gn pronouns), blood, mild cramps

a/n: this is literally so self-indulgent, as everything i write is, but whenever i'm on my period thinking of scenarios like this helps me sit through cramps, so i thought i'd share the nonesense with you ♡

obey me masterlist || similar writing: twisted pains [twst]

𝐌𝐀𝐌𝐌𝐎𝐍

“Human! Open ya damn door!”

“No, please let me die in peace,” you whined from underneath your blankets as the banging against your door continued.

“If ya don’t let me in right now, I’ll kick it down, ya hear me?!” You could practically see Mammon pacing a ridge into the floor in front of your room, so you trudged over there and unlocked it, the demon almost colliding with you from how quickly he opened the door. His snow-white hair was sticking up from his head as if he’d run his hands through it without noticing. “What’s the big deal makin’ me wait so damn long, huh?”

“I told you I’m trying to pass away from this life,” you deadpanned, trudging back to your bed, groaning as another cramp twisted your lower stomach. “First, I have to deal with this shit in a house full of male demons who are absolutely not prepared to handle a human exchange student on their period. And second-“

You paused, for both dramatic flair and to take a calming breath. Then, you turned around and gave Mammon a saccharine smile dipping pure venom.

“I find out that apparently the entire Devildom can smell that I’m on my period if I step a foot out the bloody door.”

“Listen, I’m sorry.” Mammon held up his hands to plead his innocence. “I didn’t mean ta be so rude about it. But in my defence, I didn’t know it’s a normal thing for humans to just start bleedin’. I thought ya were dyin’!”

You painfully remembered how you had dragged yourself out of your room this morning, after luckily finding some hygiene products in the bag you had with you when you were whisked away to the Devildom unannounced (thank the sky guy you threw them into literally every bag and purse you owned). Already in a bad mood, you’d plopped down into your designated seat, ready to fight for your breakfast, only to feel six pairs of eyes on you.

“What?” You had asked, when nobody passed you the bread basket.

That had been when Mammon, eyes as wide as the coaster under your mug, almost jump-scared you into dropping your butter knife. 

“WHY ARE YA BLEEDIN’?!” He’d already pulled you from your chair and started inspecting you for any signs of injuries, tugging your arms up and inspecting your head. “Are ya hurt anywhere?”

“Mammon, I’m fine. You can let go of me now.” You almost had to wrestle your arm back from him, heat already creeping up your cheeks. 

“Clearly yer not!”

Exhaling deeply you said through gritted teeth “I’m on my period, if you have to know.”

The demons around the table had exchanged glances, but sadly only three of them had held a spark of understanding, those being Satan, Levi and Asmodeus. Mammon and Beel on the other hand seemed more lost (well, Beel actually had his eyes on his food but that was beside the point) and Lucifer’s face had been unreadable.

“Woah, periods are an actual thing?” Levi had asked incredulously, his voice somewhere between shock and awe. “I thought anime made those up for the sake of the plot.”

“I see,” Satan had given you hope. “I‘ve read about those before in some books on human anatomy but I didn’t think it was a big deal, seeing as it wasn’t talked about much.”

“Satan, pray tell, from when were those books?” 

“The 18th century perhaps?” He shrugged, tilting his head.

“Well, that explains a lot,” you had sighed, whereas Asmo had just dropped his head in his hands.

“I’m sorry about them, hon. But demons don’t experience periods, so I doubt any of them will be much help,” he had squeezed your hand sympathetically.

Lucifer had cleared his throat then. “Well, it appears that we have some catching up to do, now that we are hosting a human exchange student. Given your…predicament, you are allowed to stay home from RAD as long as this affects you.”

You had sighed a breath of relief.

“In exchange, however,” Lucifer had continued, making you dread the next words to leave his mouth, “it will fall to you that my brothers are properly educated on how to handle this side of humanity.”

So, that afternoon, you had found yourself in the common room, holding a presentation on the menstrual cycle in front of the brothers… and the future demon king himself. Yes, of course, Diavolo had gotten wind of your situation and simply couldn’t pass up the opportunity to learn more about humans. At least, him being in the know meant you’d never have to worry about getting period products imported to the Devildom ever again.

Subsequently, you had locked yourself in your room, curled up under a blanket as you scrolled through Devilgram trying to forget this whole ordeal happened. A good hour later, Mammon had started pounding against your door like a madman.

With him standing in your room now, you could see the bag he was holding as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Sitting on the edge of your bed, you patted the spot next to you.

“I’ll forgive you. It would have been more embarrassing if I went to RAD without knowing,” you said placatingly. “Anyways, what’s that?”

“Oh, it’s nothin’…” Mammon trailed off, looking anywhere but you as he rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s just… Ya were sayin’ this stuff could help and we didn’t have any, so I went and got some for ya… Only because Lucifer would string me from the ceiling if ya went and complained! That’s all!”

Taking the plastic bag from him, you peered inside to see various types of human world painkillers, a hot water bottle and chocolates. Despite what the demon had just said, you noted that the chocolate brand he bought was the one you liked best, something you had only dropped in a passing sentence when you talked to Asmo about a new trending dessert.

“Thank you, Mammon,” you smiled genuinely. “That actually is really helpful.”

“Really?” He managed to suppress his grin before it curled further than the corner of his lips before clearing his throat and hiding half his face behind his hand. “I mean, I’m only doin’ ma job, ya know? So Lucifer gives me back Goldie!”

“Sure you are,” you laughed, the first time since your day started.  “Does your job also involve staying with me and watching a movie?”

“Yeah!” This time he was too late to hide his excitement, then he caught himself and tried again, calmer this time. “I uh- I could fit ya in my super busy schedule. Gotta make sure ya don’t die after all, huh?”

𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐏𝐇𝐄𝐆𝐎𝐑

What a horrible way to start your day.

Well, under other circumstances, it would’ve been near perfect. Waking up snuggled comfortably in your boyfriend’s tight hold as he lightly snored into the crook of your neck, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. 

If it wasn’t for the unpleasant twisting of your lower stomach you might have turned around and slept the morning away. Still slightly groggy, you sat up in bed, hoping dearly it was just a fleeting stomach ache or hunger and not your period, despite the clear symptoms. 

All hope was shattered however, when you shifted and you knew instantly that you could kiss this pair of underwear goodbye. With some effort, you wriggled out of Belphie’s vice grip, looking back at the sleepy demon as he groaned in protest only to see a large blood stain where you’d just lain. At your shocked gasp echoing around the attic, you watched his brows knit together and his nose wriggle, his forehead creasing as if he was deep in thought. Then, he blinked his eyes open.

“What’s—“ he cut himself off with a yawn, “What’s wrong? Are you alright? What are you doing over there?”

“Belphie… I’m so sorry,” you nearly sobbed, guilt bubbling up in you. In combination with your hormones being all over the place and your still sleep-addled mind, tears were threatening to form along your waterline.

In a heartbeat, the Avatar of Sloth was up and next to you, pulling you into a hug and bringing your head to rest against his shoulder, one hand smoothing over your hair, the other holding you close by the waist. You’d never seen him move this fast this early in the morning.

“Hey, hey, what’s up?” He gently prodded, voice still raspy with sleep but soft nonetheless. “Please talk to me, starlight.”

“It’s— Your sheets, I’m so sorry… I didn’t know…” You buried your face deeper in the fabric draping over his chest as you felt him turn his head towards the bed. Then, a beat of silence spanned across the attic.

“That’s what you’re fussing about?”

“Yeah, I mean—“ Collecting your thoughts, you began again. “It’s gross and a pain to clean. I really should’ve known that—“

“Hey, look at me.” Tilting your face towards his, your eyes met amethyst ones as you followed the guidance of his fingers underneath your chin. “It’s not gross, you hear me? No part of you could ever be.”

“But the blood-“

“I’m a demon, might I remind you. You’d think I can handle a little blood.” There was a caring seriousness in his gaze that made you weak in the knees, the love and adoration you found swirling within almost making you cry for a whole other reason. “You didn’t actually think I’d be mad at you about something so natural, did you?”

“It’s generally a bit of a taboo topic and conversations about it can be quite stigmatised, so…,” you shrugged.

“You’re telling me half the population go through this every month and the topic is hushed up anyway? You’re already stressed enough and people give you crap for something like this?” You nodded at his incredulous tone. “Well that’s just stupid.”

For a moment, Belphie just held you, his fingers tracing random shapes into your hip. Then, he pulled you towards a dresser in the corner of the room, never letting go of you completely. 

With how much time you had started spending in the attic it was a somewhat natural course of nature that your clothes would gradually end up moving here as well. Pulling out a fresh pair of underwear and a pair of black sweatpants, you didn’t have time to reach for a sweater before a soft pile of fabric was already pushed into your hands. Upon closer inspection, you identified it to be one of Belphie’s hoodies.

“I know you like wearing them,” he merely shrugged off your raised eyebrow. “Now go and take your time washing up, but make sure to come back straight away when you’re done.”

Practically herding you out of the door, you almost had to snort at the irony of the Avatar of Sloth encouraging you to do something you might not have had the energy to otherwise. But you were incredibly thankful for it because when the shower’s warm water hit you, you noticed how much you needed this, feeling born anew after scrubbing your skin clean.

Climbing back up the stairs to the attic, you already felt a lot calmer than when you had woken up, swaddled in Belphie’s cloud-like hoodie (seriously, where did he find fabric like that?) and surrounded by a mixture of his scent and your body wash.

When you pushed open the attic door, you blinked at the new set of sheets Belphie was lounging on, the old ones nowhere to be seen. Even without you moving, the demon perked up at your presence, extending one arm to coax you back into bed.

“What are you still doing over there? Come here,” he said, voice already drowsy again. “There’s still some morning left to be slept away.”

Who were you to refuse? Sliding under the covers next to him, you turned and twisted into whatever pretzel position made you cramp the least before two strong arms wrapped around you. This was another perk of being with Belphie; if anyone could accommodate weird sleeping positions, it was him.

Warm hands found their way under his hoodie, his palms pressed flatly against your lower back where most of your pain was coming from, while the hips of his fingers slowly caressed the surrounding skin.

“Feeling better?” He mumbled into the crown of your head.

“Mhm, much better,” you breathed into the crook of his neck, sighing as his natural body heat slowly eased some of the constant pressure in both your lower stomach and back. “How did you know about the back pain though?”

“You always complain about it, especially on the first day,” he replied nonchalantly, as if it was the most natural thing to know. 

“How did I get so lucky,” you mused, your tone playful but just as genuine. “Makes me feel even worse about ruining your sheets.”

“Literally don’t worry about it, you do too much of that anyway. I left them with Asmo, he knows how to get just about any stain out of stuff.” You tried not to think about the specifics of where that expertise came from, so you rolled your eyes at the very typical behaviour of the youngest to dump his work on his brothers. Then you stiffened. Work. Chores. You were on grocery shopping duty today. “What’s the matter now?”

“I have to go out soon and get everything we need for dinner,” you sighed. Maybe you could convince someone to trade it with an indoor chore for the week.

Before you could reach for your D.D.D, the arms around you held you a little closer to the demon you were snuggled up against, one of his legs draping over your thigh, careful not to put too much pressure on you as he tangled your legs with his.

“Well that’s too bad,” Belphie mumbled into your hair, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of your head. “Looks like Lucifer has to find someone else for the job. Because you’ll be busy all day.”

𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐒

Periods had the annoying habit of showing up whenever they pleased, which mostly meant whenever it was most inconvenient for you. Being well aware of that fact didn’t mean you were any more prepared for it to happen, though. 

So, as you were running errands around RAD with Barbatos, it suddenly felt like your insides were squeezed together and wrung out like a washcloth, making you stagger and pause to steady yourself again. When your companion turned to ask if you were alright, you assured him everything was fine, hoping it was just one bad cramp that would ebb away soon.

But over the course of the next fifteen minutes, it progressively got worse and you had trouble focusing on the task at hand, shifting uncomfortably in your seat as you sorted through student council documents. As you reached for a new stack of files, gloved hands came to rest over yours, preventing you from picking up more work.

“You should not overexert yourself, dear,” a soft voice spoke close to your ear. On other occasions, you would have welcomed the way his hands smoothed down your shoulders when it was just the two of you for once, but you couldn’t think about anything but the pain you were experiencing. “Without meaning to offend, you’re looking rather unwell. Allow me to take you to the Demon Lord’s Castle.”

“What about work?” You mumbled but didn’t resist as he pulled you to your feet, steadying you with a hand between your shoulder blades. “And Diavolo?”

“Do not worry about that. There’s no rush to complete these files and the Young Master has given the explicit order for me to take care of you,” Barbatos smiled as he led you out of RAD, careful to avoid as much unwanted attention as possible. “An order I was all too happy to comply with, might I add.”

“So you knew,” you sighed with a smile, not actually too surprised at the revelation. “I did think it was suspicious to have you all to myself the entire day. Do I even have to ask how you knew?”

“Well, as you have come to learn, demons are far more perceptive to certain reactions of the body, hormonal changes included,” he explained matter of factly. “Aside from that, however, I have also made it a priority to learn the rhythm of your body to best care for you.”

“You track my cycle? Despite being so busy already?” You turn your head to look at him in surprise.

“Of course. Not only are you an honoured exchange student, you are also someone who is immensely important to me,” he said as he held the castle door open for you, his verdant gaze full of adoration. “Naturally, I aim to ease your strains and alleviate some of the burden you carry.”

“You really don’t have to—“

“But I want to.” Taking your hand in his, the fabric of his gloves soft against your skin, he brushed your knuckles with a featherlight kiss. “Please allow me to take care of you, my love.”

“I guess I can’t say no when you ask like that,” you laughed sheepishly. Your body seemingly agreed with you as it sent another wave of cramps to make your knees buckle. 

“You must be exhausted,” Barbatos said, no doubt picking up on your unease immediately. “Let me draw you a warm bath to ease some of your tension.”

Said, done. Soon thereafter, you were sinking into a tub that probably cost more than a normal person’s house, the water the absolute perfect temperature to relax your muscles. You also noted how there were no strong scents present, only the hint of something floral and calming, but not overwhelmingly so.

After some time of soaking in the bath and with your permission, Barbatos stepped back into the bathroom. First, he wrapped you in the fluffiest black towel, carefully patting your skin dry so as to not irritate it. Then, he applied a moisturising lotion, gently kneading out any knots in your legs and shoulders with his skilled fingers before helping you into a new set of clothes which felt light as feathers against your skin. 

He also showed you where to find any sort of hygiene product you might need and, to nobody’s surprise, somebody had stocked the guest bathroom you used whenever you came over with every possible product there was.

In your guest room, Barbatos guided you over to the sofa and lounge chairs underneath one of the high windows where a tea set was already waiting for you on the table in the middle. 

“I took the liberty to prepare some tea and a few pastries while you were bathing. This blend has soothing qualities and is known to help with cramping. Given your usual choice of tea, I also think the aroma will be to your taste,” the demon explained and, as always, you were stunned by his level of attention to detail. 

As he poured it, you noticed, however, that there was only one cup on the table and instead of getting one for himself, Barbatos went to fetch a hot water bottle. 

Wrapping it in a cloth he warned you to be careful not to burn yourself before announcing he’d start preparations for dinner, letting you know he’d be making your favourite. But before he could turn to leave, you caught his wrist, a surprised expression flitting over his face for just a second.

“If it’s not too much trouble,” you started, holding his gaze, “would you join me for tea? It’s been a while since we sat down together.”

At your request his face smoothed over into a fond smile, the hand in your grasp coming up to brush over your cheekbone. 

“I suppose dinner can wait a little longer,” he said, clearly as happy as you to spend time with you. “Then again, even if it couldn’t, I’d find it hard to leave you. Especially when your wish and mine are so closely intertwined.”

© the-travelling-witch 2023 - do not repost, translate, copy or edit

if you like my content, reblogs, comments and asks are always much appreciated ♡

[candied-cae]

2x02: 🎶Run-

Me: *Already sobbing incoherently* LOOK AT HER- SHE’S SO SAD! DON’T DO THIS TO OUR FAVORITE BABYGIRL, ED DOESN’T DESERVE THIS PAIN-

2x02: For fuck’s sake, can I continue?

Me: Alright... fine.

--- roughly an episode of time later ---

2x02: 🎶Run-

Me: STOP IT! NO! I DON'T WANNA SEE AND FEEL IT ALL OVER AGAIN, I CAN'T TAKE IT-

2x02: Gurl- You turned on the damn episode, didn't you? Stop being dramatic and let me do my shit.

the second “run from me” by timber timbre starts playing in s2e2 i am crying.

i am immediately weeping and there’s no stopping it.

i have cried everyday this week because of it.

[muffinsin]

Hiya, really been enjoying your work lately, so thank you for your time and effort :)

Basically this ask is a very loose idea so u can take it however u want. But the basic idea is Dom G!P-Reader x Dimi Sisters (Separately) where the Dimi sisters have been bratty as hell lately and so Reader in the dead of night, brings them down to the center of the village and Rails them for all to hear as punishment. And nobody Sane is gonna look outside, cause there are monsters about, but Reader definitely intends to be heard.

Anyway that’s basically the idea, once again thank you for your time and effort with these asks and hope u have a nice day/evening/night

Oh, now that's a delicous ask, hon! ;P

Let's get into this :)

Masterlists

Bela

She's blushing a little as you bring her along, your grip on her petite wrist tight, but not forceful. She allows after you obediently, this once, having given you nothing but trouble this week.

Now, she knows, you've got enough of it. Of her snarky comments and responses, her eye rolls, her little huffs or sarcastic little remarks. She knows she's been a brat, yes. Bela fully knows she's frustrated you to no end, too, her pretty mouth spilling nonesense, one bothersome, snarky comment after another.

Only is she a little unsure about what you're doing here.

She finds herself brought to the village in the middle of the night, dressed in little but her white robe that she wears to bed, the straps tight against her shoulders. The air is warm, still. The cold is never an issue in winter, she finds. And so, she doesn't mind how little protective clothing she has on, dressed only in her heels and in the nightdress and her panties below it.

As she looks down and spots her rock hard nipples poke against the fabric of her thin dress, even sees the light outline of them due to the white nature of the clothing, she can't help but blush.

Perhaps she should have taken the time to change, even as you insisted she follows now.

She stops only when you get all the way to the statue in the centre and you pause. You cross your arms, facing her at last, your expression a rather hard one.

You know, your girlfriend is not one to let you devour her in front of others directly. However, Bela grows more and more aroused knowing someone is near, perhaps near enough to hear, even. She always becomes a tad bit wetter when someone is around, just out of sight, just out of earshot. Usually, that is a maid.

Never would the polite, headstrong, perfect daughter of Alcina Dimitrescu allow someone to actually catch her, of course! Or even hear her, she would insist.

Sadly, your pretty girlfriend is a screamer. Your ilttle songbird is quite vocal, especially when she just feels so, so good.

As such, you usually move your hand across her mouth, sparing her the embarassment of her sisters hearing it and teasing her relentlessly for days, as well as your own skin, for you're sure her mother would not hesitate to attempt to sever your head from her body should she hear, insisting you're defiling her daughter or what not.

Perhaps, she's not wrong.

You do so love doing such filthy things to your brat, after all.

Especially when she's got a mouth on her, as she has recently.

This time, though, it's a little different. This time, she will be heard.

Humiliation. A proper punishment for your sweet songbird, the kind that has her get wet and feel sweet shame, the kind that shocks her back into behaving, even as the brat in her craves for more of this treatment. Living in the perfect world and having to portray the perfect, headstrong Dimitrescu heiress, Bela does so love it when you take charge for her, when you break her down. Always forceful, but never too rough.

Humiliation, it is.

She moans lowly, a rare sound at this volume, as you bring her closer and push your lips to hers. And while she originally attempts to fight you playfully, trying to win out against your tongue with her own, she submits fairly fast, her mind reeling with what else she could throw at you to truly make you snap.

Ah, to make a top snap. A brat's dream.

Or your brat's dream, certainly.

She hums against your lips, smirking briefly until she feels your hands wander to the straps of her dress. Her golden eyes widen a little and a gasp falls from her lips when you tug it forcefully, exposing the upper part of her cleavage, the top of her breasts visible, now.

"Here?", she gasps, her eyes wide, any snarky remark she was about to make pulled from her mind, now. Still, there's a smile playing on her lips. She trusts you, and foolishly believes that despite her brattiness, you will still help her keep quiet.

Alas, she ought to know;

Only good girls receive such guidance. And unfortunately for your pretty girlfriend, she is entirely incapable of being quiet when her sensitive body is fondled and your cock drills into her.

"Off", you simply command, shaking your head a little when you see a playful smirk play on her lips.

"Mhmm...no", she hums playfully, giggling when she notices you grip the strap of her night dress a little tigher. She presses herself closer to you, batting her long eyelashes at you, her thick lips curled to a playful smile.

"You do it", she adds, giggling to herself when you shake your head at her. Still, your cock pulses between your legs already, growing harder each moment you're with her and each moment you fantasize about what you're about to do.

As such, you quickly grow impatient, grabbing at her clothing and tugging it from her, up above her head, and lick your lips as you see her breasts bounce, then settle again.

Her nipples are hard, her porcelain skin momentarily covered in goosebumps as the night's air traces her flesh.

She's shoked at your impatience, gasping when your hand falls and a finger hooks into the front of her white panties.

Only now does she become awfully aware of where you are, of how exposed she would be if a villager was to step outside their home. They'd see her smooth skin, her perky breasts and nipples, her long legs, and- she's sure- soon also her shaven pussy, utterly sensitive when you pet it.

"What was that, Bela?", you hum, your boxers and pants almost unbearably tight on you as you tug her closer yet again. While your fingertips are hooked firmly into her panties, you feel her soft, sensitive pussy beneath it. You can't help but wonder whether she's wet already, and the thought only makes you breathe out lowly in return. She does always get so wet so very fast for you...

"I-", she starts, though finds herself at a loss of words yet again when you tug her underwear down. A bright pink blush heats up her cheeks as you guide her to step out of them. She feels so utterly exposed, far more so than ever before, and almost feels like a deer in the headlights, her bratty attitude gone and replaced by an almost shy one.

You tug her closer yet again, chuckling when her hands immediately go to your belt, her sharp nails digging into the leathery fabric, her fingertips trying to get it open already. You tsk at her.

You grasp her chin tightly, smirking as you feel her face heat up even more.

"You can be such a good girl, Bela", you coo, and the words alone have her gasp and push her legs together, as though your voice hit her right where she needs it most, now. You only tsk again.

"Obedient, patient, intelligent, submissive...", you trail off, inspecting her face slowly, as though making a show of your patience, even as it's coming to an end already. "But you've not been a good girl, have you, Bela?"

She opens her mouth to speak, but you tug her closer by her chin, shaking your head subtly.

"None of that now, brat. I only want to hear your screams tonight, until you're ready to have an apology fucked from your bratty little mouth"

Your words sting in the best way, have her moan and whimper lowly, her clit pulsing, her pussy leaking already. She's completely bare still, while you find yourself fully dressed. If anyone was to look, your power balance and status as the dominant one in this situation would be painfully obvious. And Bela, the intelligent thing she is, is fully aware of it.

Only does it add to her humiliation and arousal.

And just briefly, she considers being good. But she's a good girl so often! What's the harm in playing the brat just a little longer?

Then, her fingers tug at your belt again and she giggles, allowing herself a brief moment longer of playfulness as she smirks at you. In the next moment already she's grabbed, though. She gasps as you tug her to the well, shrieking in surprise as you push her to her knees. The ground is dirty, some of it rubbing uncomfortably against her knees. Yet again, if she had only been a good girl, this would not be an issue. After all, a good girl wouldn't have been brought out to the village to be railed and toyed with for all to hear. A good girl would not be getting the humiliating, rather rough treatment you have in store for her.

Bela's about to speak when she's cut off by her own gasp and shrieks the moment you grab at her hair- the base, as to hurt her less. You know your girlfriend isn't the biggest on pain being inflicted on her beyond the occaisonal spanking- and tug her head back.

"I told you, no speaking now, you little brat. I've had about enough of your comments", youo scowl, giving her hair another tug when she parts her lips yet again, as though testing you.

You do this a few more times, chuckling when another two times or so she repeats this, before rolling her eyes and sealing her lips at last.

A little more...

She watches with wide, hungry eyes as you unbuckle the belt yourself, groaning in relief when you can finally tug down your trousers and underwear. Her playful brattiness is quickly replaced by a shriek when, due to how close you're standing, your cock slaps against her face instead. You laugh as she flinches in surprise, gasping and scowling, trying to move her head a little despite the tight grasp you have on her.

"Open"

She gasps again at your vulgar command, and the implication behind it. Here?! Where...where anyone foolish enough to step outside could easily spot the proud, strong, dominant Dimitrescu on her knees, sucking you off like a common village slut? Her cheeks flush and heat up, but her gasp is enough for you to force your dick between her parted lips.

Again, she shrieks in surprise, her hands shooting up to your hips to steady herself, but she's not nearly prepared for the fast pace you choose this time.

You allow her no time to get used to having you in her mouth, allow her no say in how quick you're going.

Instead, you snap your hips back and forth fast, angling yourself to have her choke and gag around you deliciously. Her golden eyes water and she moans adorable, each moan and groan coming with vibrations around you that have you shiver and thrust just a little harder.

"You..."

A harsh thrust.

"are going to..."

Another harsher one, one that has her gag and shriek adorably, all her sounds coming out muffled and slurred.

"fucking behave", you grunt.

You move your hands down, tugging her in a new position that demands she tilts her head back completely. Sliding your hands to her throat carefully, you groan as you thrust again, feeling your cock slide up against your hands from the other side of her throat.

You feel it bulge from your entire lenght, the tip beautifully traced by her tight throat, the choker necklace tight around her. She's moaning and shrieking, once again unable to stay quiet.

Alas, even as her nipples are rock hard and breasts bounce, even as she presses her thighs together and whimpers adorabley, even as her eyes water and tears run down her cheeks, even as they slip shut when your balls slap against her face in this angle, you allow her no ounce of dignity left.

She jumps when your leg pushes up against her thighs, but quickly spreads them for you, her earlier brattiness roughly throat-fucked from her, her body trembling and moans coming from her.

Really, she ought to be thankful you're stuffing her mouth, knowing she can't be quiet and will, if not careful, become the newest talk among the villagers, likely as they decide whether it was someone having fun at late of night or suffering a horrible fate.

Pushing your leg between hers, you feel her grind against your boot eagerly, uncaring of the slight dirt sticking to it, now. She needs you, and needs your touch.

And being the good girl she knows fully well she ought to be, she knows to obey, to let you think, to stop with her attitude, lest you will simply fuck it from her mouth again.

Cassandra

Cassandra is, for the lack of a better word, an utter brat. She's spoiled, defensive, needy, impatient, and takes the definition of "brat" to a whole new level. Of course, there's times you can succesfully take care of the brat in her and get rid of it- temporarily, of course. She will never fully stop pestering you, will never stop bratting her way through the day.

And still, there's times where your little brat takes this to a whole new level.

Recently especially, she's been nothing but a little pest. You've been unable to get any work done at all, having always been interrupted by her by any means. Often, she does this by simply grabbing and tugging you away, using the strenght granted to her by the cadou inplant a mortal stands little chance against.

At other times, she "convinces" you to stop your work, swarming on top of your lap or a surface in front of you. When you're alone, she's often bold enough to be entirely naked, her fingers already sliding down her body.

And even with people around, she'll smirk suggestively, moaning this and that in your ear, her hands trailing down your body, subtly stroking over the hard bulge in your pants. That's another thing; the brat cannot keep her hands to herself. Normally, you don't mind, but you do believe she ought to be taught some manners eventually, no matter how beautiful she looks all nice and tied up for you.

At other times, she goes the extra mile, really, dropping some bloodied thing- guts, animals, women, in front of you and forcing you to clean up the mess. Of course, Cassandra can't be bothered to clean.

You grit your teeth at the mere thought; often you counter her dislike towards cleaning by tying her up on the bed and making her suck at your cock for hours, until both of you are sore, cleaning up her own mess, especially often after you've been in her.

Today, though, you have something different planned.

She growls quietly under her breath as she's tugged along, her arm gripped tightly by you. Occaisonally, she'll act as though she doesn't like the force you're applying, act as though she wants to get away, but one thing is and will always be a clear hint: the amount of strenght she posseses. For she could easily get away from you, swarming, or by ripping herself from you, but she chooses not to, and you know it.

She offers only pathetic attempts at tugging her arm free, growing wetter each time you tug her back even harder and tighten your grip on her in return, sure enough able to bruise her. Oh; you know, the thought gets your little masochist soaked.

Lured here by the false idea of hunting together at night, she follows eagerly still, unaware that you're taking taming to a new level, now.

You know, after all, if there's one thing that both, gets your sweet Cassie wetter than anything else, and tames the brat in her more than anything else, is Humiliation.

Sheer, proper, humiliation.

Whether that means tying her up and slutting her out, filling all her holes and making her bounce on your cock until her face burns bright red and warm, putting her in tight, humiliating outfits, she loves it all, and it works wonders in putting her back in her place.

Alas, this is a whole new level. To take your beautiful brat and take her in the village, surrounded by those so dearly afraid of her. You know, none will dare step outside, but the threat that they have the opportunity to will be enough to humiliate the woman back into being a good pet for you, you know.

When you finally arrive by the village, surrounded now by quiet houses, the graveyard and the statue in the centre of the town, you turn to her at last.

"Strip", you command, your tone technically leaving no room for arguments, even as you know your brat will do so, anyway.

She laughs, as though this is a joke, not once considering you might be serious. She only shakes her hips at you, giggling as her fingertip trails across your chest. "You first, little mouse", she coos, yet once again her laughter implies that she does not yet suspect a thing.

This, however, changes drastically when you grab her dress with your free hand and yank it up. She shrieks in surprise, her hands immediately trying to tug it back down, her cheeks flushing as she looks around, as though paranoid someone might've seen. You almost coo.

Strong, bold little Cassandra, shy about the possibility of some pervert getting off to her body.

You laugh at her, this time, tightening your hold on her upper arm and tugging her to you. She gasps, her teeth gritting when your hand lets go of her dress to grab at her face instead.

Her cheeks are slightly warm already- good. But not nearly good enough just yet.

She snarls when you lean in, your lips brushing across hers for a moment before she turns her head. You laugh, tightening her grasp and forcing her head back to you. The force of strenght and dominance has her gasp and moan, her eyes fluttering shut for but a moment before she tries to turn her head, attempting to challenge you once again.

Again, though, you don't give her the chance too.

You force her head back, gripping her cheeks tight enough that the tips of your nails dig into her skin sharply. You push your lips against hers, and while she originally tries to defy you, growling brattily as though she stands a chance at dominating you this time, she's proven wrong quickly. She's left moaning when you force your tongue inside her mouth, her head and arm held tight, her thighs pushing together as you dominate her so effortlessly.

With Cassandra, it's often like this when she's bratty.

She'll make things difficult, as though testing you, as though checking whether you can control her, still.

You never fail to do so.

She's gasping when your hand grabs at her dress and tugs open the corset, then feels you slide the zipper down her back. When her dress falls, about to pool by her feet, she attempts to catch it. But once again you're faster, catching her wrists tightly in your hands and forcing them to stay in place.

She's shivering, though not from the cold. When you tug down her bra, too, she gasps and squirms again, as though reminded of what's happening and- more importantly- where it's happening.

But even as she begins to snarl and try to bite at you playfully- again, you know she's fully capable of doing so if she actually tried- she finds herself pushed and yanked by you, a squeal ripped from her when you shove her down on one of the flat grave covers on the ground, the cool marble biting into her strong, bare back.

"Hey!", she snarls, but is quickly reduced to a flustered mess when you move down on top of her, your knee grinding her soaked panties against her sopping wet pussy.

"Can you hear it, my little huntress?", you coo, stroking her cheeks tauntingly sweet. Your free hand slides down, tracing little circles at her hip, just where the panties sit still, covering her, while your body on top of hers does a well enough job covering her strong stomach, strong arms, and round breasts and dusty pink nipples. Ah, but from her body, there is one asset that stands out as the best, easily: her thick ass, round and firm, juicy and tight.

You'll be exposing it, along with her dusty pink, sensitive pussy, in no time.

"Can you hear the pitter patter of their hearts?", you coo, once again drawing attention to her greatest source of humiliation; not the cool marble below her bare skin, not the air and light breeze caressing her flesh. The villagers, those that fear her so, surely close enough to hear should this go on any longer.

And while you can't hear, you know she does. You know it, for her cheeks adapt a pink shade amd warmth, for she gasps and breathes a little heavier, even.

She can't help but moan and whimper when you bite down her jaw, slowly, giving her enough time to prepare herself- or try to- for the sensation of your teeth grazing her sensitive neck. She's biting her lip, trying so hard to be quiet it's almost adorable. You'll have none of it.

Instead, you move up, kneeling, your legs at her sides as you unbuckle your belt. She gives you a knowing smirk, but in her eyes, among the gold and ever growing arousal, you see the humiliation creep up on her. If only one was to look outside...she could never live it down.

And still, she finds herself too greedy to stop you, even helping you tug off your pants and underwear. When she moves in to stroke your cock, you tsk, grabbing her wrist mid-air. Your brat does always have a certain difficult understanding that there are times she has no say whatsoever...

Ah, but she loves it.

She loves how rough you are, how you squeeze her wrist until it aches, how you push her back down and roughly grab at her panties, how you give her an almost primal, feral look as you yank them off, as though offended by them. Often, when in a bratty mood like this, she insists you do all the work, if only to have some kind of counter-argument when you eventually tease her about being a slut. Now, you're not going to grant her the opportunity.

She snarls at you when you grip her hair and hip, forcing her to stay in place as you hover over her yet again. She knows perfectly well what's expected of her, of course. Alas, the brat only does the complete opposite and tries to cross her legs, laughing, certain your frustration is growing.

Now, normally, you would not expose her fully. That doesn't mean you won't do so at a special opportunity such as this one.

Cassandra gasps when you part her thighs yourself, your grip forceful, and just right, before- to her surprise, you lift her by her thighs.

She shrieks as her ass is lifted off the cool marble, her heels digging into your back as you lift her just slightly, just enough to allow you to trust into her perfectly. Just enough to take every ounce of control from her and make her feel far, far more exposed.

She's shivering and gasping, her mouth agape, her hands desperately trying to grasp onto anything. Alas, with her like this, she can't even reach your arms, can't roll her hips, can't move her legs, can't do anything but take what's given to her.

Oh, she hates it. But she loves it so, too.

"Let me down!", she snarls, but there's little heat behind her words, as you know. Instead, you continue to toy with the little brat.

She knows fully well, being a pest will not get her anywhere, now.

She knows, all it takes is to be a good girl.

She hates it. And she loves it.

"A-AH! He-a-ah-hhey!", she shrieks, her eyes suddenly wide as you thrust into her fully. You give her no time to prepare, don't start out slow, or ease yourself into her. Instead, you ram yourself inside, laughing and groaning as you feel her stretch so wonderfully around her.

You know, the pain of the stretch only adds to your bunny's humiliation and arousal, ever one for pain- receiving, and giving- after all.

She's completely lost in the pleasure, whimpering, moaning, groaning and slurring out little phrases you don't bother paying attention to. You grip at her hips, using her body as though it was nothing but your favorite toy, and she's fully aware of it.

She knows, any second a villager could step outside and see the monstrous, mighty, sadistic Cassandra Dimitrescu railed like a ragdoll, completely helpless, her eyes tearing up and pussy pulsing around the large cock filling her. Her breasts bounce with every sharp thrust into her and every yank of her hips back to yours.

You hiss, feeling her heels dig sharper into your back and shoulders, but shake your head fondly, too. With Cassandra, there is always pain. With Cassandra, you've realized certain pain is not so bad.

Her eyes slip shut for but a moment, and it's enough for you to immediately pull out of her again, your wet cock slapping against her lower stomach instead as wet slick drools from her already.

"Wha-a...", she slurs, her eyes opening once again, her pussy suddenly far, far too empty. You know, with brute railing, you won't be convincing her to behave, even as you will absolutely be doing so later on, when she has earned it, as a good girl ought to. This, however...a warning, a threat of a denied orgasm and touch...this is your impatient, needy brat's weakness, instead.

And true to this, she snarls angrily, thrusting her hips, squirming helplessly below you. From this position, she's entirely unable to control the situation, though.

She whines as your fingertip trails across her entrance, now visibly stretched and drooling slick like honey. She knows what to do, and while she does try to fight her desire off for just a few more minutes of endlessly seductive and teasing touches between her legs- never quite what she needs, nor how deep and full she needs it- she does obey.

"Please..."

A weak attempt. But you have much more time to play with her and teach her to do better.

Daniela

Daniela, Daniela, Daniela...what are you going to do with her?

A good girl on some days, certainly.

Ah, but what a damned brat the woman can be.

Rolling her eyes, touching you and herself without any thought or permission at all and, of course, without even a glimmer or shame. In the past week alone, you’ve often had to grab her wrist during dinner, if only to prevent her from sliding her greedy hand to your thigh, then the bulge in your pants.

At other times, she is set on distracting you, whining about and licking at your ear when you refuse to give her the full attention she seems to especially crave whenever you’re busy.

And, of course, her most favorite way of bratting and teasing you; using the maidens to her advantage.

Now, you sure would like to claim it doesn’t bother you in the slightest when she pushes herself up against them, fluttering her pretty, long eyelashes and giggling flirtatiously around them, all while her eyes would always flicker back to you, as though the brat wanted to make sure you’re still watching her.

And really, you’re not awful at concealing your annoyance regarding that.

No, the problem is not your so very bratty girlfriend trying to rile you up. You’ve come to expect as much when she’s in such moods. No, the problem are the maidens she uses to do this. The maidens, and how their eyes are glued to your brat the moment she steps to them. How they ogle her, suddenly bold when she seems to give them attention, unaware it’s really only to rile you up.

Their hands, setting on your girkfrind’s hips. Her grin, her eyes set on you, when she notices this. She never brushes them off, not until she’s satisfied and sure this has earned her just what she wants.

And normally, you put up with it. You put her back in her place again after, and temporarily the brat in her is tamed.

Only is she becoming more and more bratty more often.

You’ve decided: you have enough.

And now your brat will be taught a lesson she won’t forget so easily.

She follows behind you, rubbing at her eyes and looking about curiously as you guide her along. She’s fully dressed still, having caught her just before she got ready to prepare for bed, but as often her dress is tighter than usual, as though the tight corset was made for nothing than to draw attention to her large, soft chest, wide hips and slim body.

You shiver as you take in her form, feeling the familiar ache between your legs already. She knows what she does to you, but tonight, she’s about to feel it, too.

Daniela giggles when you lead her to the centre of the village, a curious scowl on her face as she takes in the statue. Wouldn’t it look so much cuter at the castle?, she can’t help but think. Perhaps she can get her mother to put it in the courtyard!

Alas, her mild curiosity turns to surprise when she suddenly feels you push up against her, one of your hands snaking up her front and grabbing her dress by its cleavage cut, the other running up her back and finding the zipper easily.

She giggles still, always one to play around. She hasn’t yet paid mind to the fact that any villager could step outside at any moment, and therefore feels almost thrilled at the thought of doing such a thing outside. She’s capable of staying quiet, anyway, she’s sure.

And still, she moans softly when you begin kneading at her chest, your hard bulge pressing into her, your fingers clasping the zipper of her dress and dragging it down teasingly.

She blushes and giggles as you undo the corset and tug down the dress, though shrieks in surprise when you push against her back next, forcing her to bend over, now grasping the statue tight.

From this angle, she spots the small houses and cabins, lights going off as though someone was alerted by her shriek and decided to try and hide away.

Wait-!

She gasps when you hook your fingers in her red panties, your hips grinding against her soft, round ass in almost animalistic fashion. She turns to you, eyes wide, but as they take you in, an eager smirk takes over instead. She's grinding back against you eagerly, already distracted again, already back to drowning in the pleasure and want she feels for you.

Then, her panties are off yet when you let them dangle by her face by your index finger and she goes to take them, you pull back. She scowls, confused, reaching out to yank them again, but once more you only move them away from her and out of her reach. You tsk at her, pushing her back into her bent over position.

Moving your body along hers, you whisper by her ear, your bulge pushing up against her bare body now.

"What do you think, Dani, should we leave these here?", you coo, biting your lip as you pull open your pants with one hand and knead at her soft thigh with the other. She frowns in confusion, whimpering softly for you.

"I'm sure they'd have a nice time with them....", you hum, laughing lowly when she squeaks, as if reminded of the villagers again. Her face is bright pink and she gasps as your hand moves from her thigh up to her ass cheek, between them, then to her pussy.

Wet- soaked, even- and all for you.

She's whimpering and moaning adorably, her lips parted as she attempts to tell you off half heartedly, insisting you can't do this with the inhabitants of the village this close, close enough she's sure they could hear her through their shut doors if she isn't careful.

Ah, but she can't help the low, breathy moans that tumble over her soft lips when you caress her between her legs, stroking her drooling pussy gently, patting and sliding your fingertip between her lips there until it rests against the hood of her sensitive clit.

When you rub it in tight circles, the cute thing squeaks again, grasping the statue automatically when her knees buckle and she arches her back for you. She whimpers as, from the corner of her eye, she sees you drop the panties on the ground, chuckling to yourself.

"Think they'll fight over them, princess? I can imagine it", you coo, leaning back over her when you manage to unzip your pants at last and tug your cock free, the thick head drooling precum against her ass cheek.

She's blushing hard, shaking her head as if trying to deny this, as if both of you don't know how needy the mere thought has her feel, how her pussy drools more and more and pulses around nothingness at the thought.

And still, her head fills with thoughts of just that, of villagers yanking at her little panties, grabbing and rubbing them between their fingers, disappearing into their houses with them tucked to their chest. She shivers, imaginging some perverted villagers holding her underwear close, their hand between their legs...

The feralness of the thought has her head spin and moan when you stroke at her sensitive clit a little more. Then, however, a loud squeak is pulled from her when your free hand comes down on her thick ass.

She squeaks again, covering her mouth with her hand as another series of spanks comes. She tries to squirm and turn, whimpering adorably for you as you turn her soft flesh into mush.

"W-Why...?", she whines, even as she knows fully well why she's treated like this, why she was bound to be punished eventually. Ah, but even as her ass stings and her golden eyes turn teary, her nipples are rock hard and her pussy drools, a line of it dripping down onto the ground between her legs already.

You chuckle, but don't bother answering the little brat.

Instead, you merely continue, your cock rock hard as you press yourself into her form. Like this, bent over and arching her back for you, hugging the structure tight, she's almost small beneath you.

You love it.

She's squealing and gasping with every slap, her eyes slipping shut and fingers lightly gripping at her face as she covers her mouth, well aware her uncontrolled yelps are surely heard by at least some of the villagers.

She shivers as you lean forwards, your tip sliding up against her soaked pussy, your wet fingers grabbing and yanking her bra away. She's completely exposed now, for you, and for anyone foolish enough to step outside. Daniela Dimitrescu, fearsome, manic, a terror in the eyes of many villagers. Now, nothing but your toy, a little brat about to be taught the ways of being a good girl.

She shrieks again when you grab at her hair, curling it around your hand and twisting it into a fist as you tug, the auburn strands now almost used like a leash to make her arch her back even more for you.

When you line yourself up with her, she's posively drooling from her pussy already, so utterly soaked you need not even think of lube. Instead, you simply thrust your cock between her soaked, pretty little folds, groaning as you feel her wetness and warmth even like this. She's trembling already, moaning muffled phrases into her hand as you rub and squeeze her round ass cheek.

It's warm beneath your touch, now, and sporting a cute, pink shade that came from the spanking. Nothing too much, nor too little, just enough for her to get properly wet and feel it for a little while longer.

She moans and whimpers adorably for you, her body rocking and arms tightening around the statue each time another slap comes down on her.

Each time you thrust forth and the tip of your dick hits her clit, she moans breathily, doing a poor job of staying quiet as she hoped to.

When you finally push yourself in, without any warning, she screams, loud, breathily, a slurred moan falling from her parted lips. You thrust immediately, tightening your grip on her hair as your other hand slides to her hip and grabs it. You yank her back with every thrust in her, deep, hard, fast, far more than your little brat is used to.

She can only moan and cry adorably for you, her legs shaking already, her pussy gripping you tight.

While she’s quite used to you by now, often bugging you to play with her almost daily, she’s still rather unused to such a fast pace and roughness.

When she attempts to stand or turn, you only grip her hip tighter, chuckling lowly behind her.

“Ah-Ah-Ah. You wanted my full attention, didn’t you, Daniela?”, you coo, your voice strained as you snap your hips against her a little harder. She’s squealing and moaning helplessly, her pussy hardly able to take all of you inside like this, stretching with every moment, each time you force more of yourself inside of her.

Her breasts bounce as her body is manhandled and her arms wrap around the statue in front of her fully, as though her shaking legs are bound to give out any moment now.

You groan behind her, your whole body feeling as though on fire.

She’s so cute like this, moaning, squealing, gasping your name so sweetly. Her ass jiggles when your front snaps against her, her soft, dark painted lips parting to let out those sensual sounds.

She’s whimpering and moaning, stuck between the pleasure she’s given and the shock of just how rough you are with her this time. She knows, this is the punishments her bratty actions have brought forth, knows she isn’t granted the sweet, passionate sex and touches she often receives from you, rather feeling you grab and pound her like a toy, her body trembling, her insides wrapped around your wet cock like a vine.

Her head lifts and back arches fully when you give her hair another tug, your legs forcing hers farther apart even as she’s shaking already.

One, two, three orgasms are ripped from the overly sensitive beat, each making her more and more sensitive in turn.

She’s shaking and shivering, moaning loudly and slurring little phrases that you’re both sure the villagers are picking up inside their homes, even as they cannot quite tell what she says.

By the end, she’s pleading and moaning adorably, stuck between asking for more still like the greedy brat she is, and begging you to slow down and take pity on her poor, sensitive pussy.

You know, your little brat will remember this.

[lomlhwa]

get out of my head (c.yj)

pairing: soulmate!yeonjun x soulmate!reader

preview: when you turn 18, you can hear your soulmate's voice in your head. you have to work to find each other, no matter the distance.

tags/warnings: fem reader, ITALICS IS YEONJUN IN READER'S HEAD + BOLD IS READER TALKING BACK TO YEONJUN, lots of dirty talk, monster cock!yeonjun (it's me, what do you expect), oral (m.receiving), face fucking, crying, pussy slapping, pet names (baby, pretty girl, good girl), unprotected penetration (wrap it before you tap it), creampie

trigger warnings: n/a

wc: 1.6k

song recs for this fic: yes, and? by ariana grande, 3d by jungkook, nonesense by sabrina carpenter

a/n: hey guys.... it's been a long time T-T hope you didn't forget about me. this is my first time writing a fic in a WHILE. hope you like it and i hope to post more maybe idk

“3! 2! 1! happy birthday!” your friends cry out at midnight on your birthday. you blow out the glowing candles on your birthday cake eagerly. you make a silent wish for your soulmate to be hot. 

your friends look at you expectantly. “has he said anything?” one of them says. you shake your head. your brain is still dead silent. no soulmate talking to you. “it is literally midnight, so he could be sleeping,” you shrug. your friends murmur among themselves as you slink down your chair.

“hellooo? anyone there yet?” a male voice appears in your head and you jump at the sound. your friends look at you concerned. “hello?” you sit in silence for a moment again, your friends remain unmoving. “fucking finally. took you long enough to turn 18.” you laugh and your friends relax. 

“he sounds pretty,” you say to your friends. they shake their heads. you’re the last one out of your friends to turn 18, therefore you’re the last one to hear your soulmate. your friends have been with their soulmates for months at this point. 

“my bad, i have a late birthday,” you respond to the voice in your head. your friends disperse through your house to let you talk to your soulmate for a few moments. 

“what’s your name? mine’s yeonjun. are you pretty? where do you live” you chew on your bottom lip while you listen to him talk to you. “my name is y/n,” your leg bounces as you answer the first question. “my friends think i’m pretty,” you add. 

you stay silent, debating if you should tell him exactly where you live or just the general area. saying you live ‘around seoul’ is too broad though. “well? where do you live?” you shake your head and just decide to give him the general area. 

“i live in busan.”

________________________________________

you stand outside a cafe nervously checking your phone every minute. you’re waiting for yeonjun. you’re meeting your soulmate. how terrifying. 

“i’m almost there. are you outside?” you jump when his voice rings out in your head. you’re still not used to having a whole other person in your head.

“yeah, i’m just waiting,” you lean against the wall behind you and observe your surroundings. yeonjun picked a really cute cafe to meet at. you watch as people walk mindlessly past you.

you look down at your phone until you hear yeonjun’s voice again. “what color are you wearing?” you look down at your outfit before replying. “pink.”

before you can say anything else, you feel a presence in front of you. you look up and make eye contact with one of the most beautiful men you’ve ever seen. he gives you a smile that lights up his entire face. 

“y/n.” it’s his voice. it’s his voice but outside your head. he’s in front of you. your mouth hangs agape as you realize this beautiful man is your soulmate. you flatten your hair and smooth out your outfit before you speak. “yeonjun.” 

________________________________________

before you know it, you’re back at his place with your back crashed against his front door. your date didn’t last long. he wanted you as soon as he saw you.

“you’re so fucking perfect,” his lips are attached to yours. being able to speak to each other telepathically really comes in handy when your mouth is otherwise occupied. 

his hands grip your hips and guide them to grind against him. he groans into your mouth. you can feel his hardening length through his jeans. it’s huge. 

“are you big?” you feel him smile against your lips at the question.

he grabs your hand and drags you towards his bedroom. “does the pretty girl wanna find out?” yeonjun says before pushing you down onto his bed. he stands between your legs, just looking at you. your face turns bright red under his dominant gaze. he’s basically fucking you with his eyes. 

“shirt.” his voice is commanding and you find your hands moving with a mind of their own to take your shirt off. you throw it on the floor next to his bed. you’re left in your pretty white bra and your pretty pink skirt. 

“fuck, so pretty,” his voice in your head makes you blush. he hasn’t even touched you yet and your panties are practically soaked through. 

he trails his big hands up your thighs, lifting your skirt in the process. he licks his lips at the sight of your soaked panties. he runs his long index finger over the wet patch, causing your hips to jerk. 

“you’re soaked. i haven’t even done anything, baby.” yeonjun’s tone is full of fake pity.

out of nowhere, he grabs you by the hips and forces you onto the floor. you’re on your knees in front of him. the tent in his pants is massive and you can tell that it probably feels unbearable. 

he undoes his belt and pulls his jeans down to his knees. he pulls his boxers down the same length and his cock flies out. it almost smacks you in the face. you look at it in pure shock. how is this natural?

“suck,” he orders. your jaw falls open and you welcome his length into your mouth. you take it slow and steady to try and prep your throat for his monster cock. you can tell that he’s getting impatient within just a few moments.

“please let me fuck your mouth, pretty girl.” the question sets something off in you and you feel like you would do anything for him. you stop all your ministrations and go limp. “do it.”

yeonjun gathers all your hair into a ponytail and uses it to move your head back and forth. you open your throat as much as you can but you could never manage to take all of him. there’s just too much.

his hips snap to meet the movements his making with your head. you cough and choke around him. saliva drips out of your mouth and onto the floor, creating a puddle. your eyes water and threaten to ruin your makeup. 

you look up at him with teary eyes and you can tell that he’s close, even through your blurry vision. “cum down my throat, jjunie.” your words in his head mixed with your teary gaze causes him to finish almost immediately. you choke a final time before he pulls out and watches you swallow. 

he lifts you off the ground with a foreign softness compared to his length in your throat. he lays you down and wastes no time in removing your panties. he leaves your skirt and bra, finding them particularly cute. 

he forces your legs apart to full take in your glistening pussy. he runs his palm over it before bringing his hand down and slapping it. you squeak, jerking back. your pussy continues to drip, so he does it again. 

“jun, please, need you,” you whine. your legs close to try and keep him from bringing his hand down again. tears well in your eyes out of the desperate need for pleasure. your core is throbbing.

yeonjun pries your knees apart and settles between your thighs, his cock brushing your core. “are you ready, baby? can you take it?” your eyes flicker down to his member, slight fear coursing through you. you nod hesitantly.

he brings his hand down to stroke himself before lining up with your weeping hole. “deep breaths pretty girl.” he pushes his cock in slowly, inch by inch. the stretch is painfully intoxicating. your eyes cross as he bottoms out.

“baby, breathe,” yeonjun says. you had been holding your breath while he pushed into you. you breathe sharply, trying to keep yourself from falling apart on his cock immediately.

“please, move jjunie,” you beg. you dig your nails into his forearms as he pulls all the way out and slams back in, balls slapping against your ass. you choke out a moan, throwing your head back into his pillow. 

“you suck me in so beautifully,” his voice rings out in your mind through the buzz of pleasure. you look at him to find his mouth slightly open, whines of pleasure escaping. his sweaty hair hangs over his eyes deliciously. you could cum just from seeing him like this. 

you clench around him, pleasure building up quickly. his fast pace thrusting into you has your mind going numb. you remove your hands from his forearms and grab him by the hair, forcing his lips to yours. he meets you in a feverish kiss, his thrusts becoming sloppier.

“i’m gonna cum, please fill me up jun,” you run your tongue over his bottom lip as he nods in acknowledgement. you wrap your legs around his waist as he uses your hole to get off.

your arms fall limp on the bed by your head and yeonjun takes the opportunity to hold your hands with his. he intertwines his fingers with yours in an attempt to ground himself.

“c-cum-” you stutter as your walls close in on him for a final time before you hit your high. he finishes immediately after you, your clenching becoming too much for him. his hips stutter and he lets out a high pitched whine as he spurts white hot cum into you. 

you pant, trying to catch your breath. you squeeze his hands gently. he collapses onto you, nuzzling his face into your neck. you brush your hair out of your face, finding that it’s sticking to your forehead.

“you’re so fucking perfect,” he whispers before kissing your neck gently. you giggle, biting your swollen bottom lip.

“my perfect soulmate.”

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