#god these past couple months have been miserable | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chelseeebe · 6 months ago

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you win, i lose

we’re back with these two pathetic little weirdos, who cheered!! another follow up to gimme a hand, bump n’ grind and truth or dare or can be read as a standalone! i think i’m gonna give these two a break for now and work on some other things including some lovely requests i have<3

18+. mdni! smut with a little bit of plot this time! female!reader x eddie munson. no use of y/n. modern au i guess but it is so not mentioned or relevant

eddie sighs, a long, guttural sigh that on reflection, made him sound like a sad little dog.

“what the hell was that for?” barely looking up from your phone to talk to him.

he debates even saying it, terrified that you’d have his balls chopped off for uttering the words.

“don’t you think we’re boring now?” voice wavering as the words come out.

after six months of officially dating, your relationship had started to slow a little. no more making him cum in his pants or sneaky blowjobs in the bathroom at parties. it was sex or it was sleep.

the transition from best friends who shouldn’t be doing this to same old couple had been jarring, especially over the past week when eddie’s felt his dick was on overdrive.

“boring? huh? i don’t think we’re boring? we literally went to a gig tonight,” baffled by his insulting suggestion.

“not like that,” leering up at you from his side of the bed, “i mean.. when we have sex, it’s kinda boring,” shrugging, as if to lessen the blow of what he’d said.

your face crumples, both offence and perhaps a little hurt flash through your features. “wow, thanks eds. no, i actually didn’t think that at all.”

it’s in that moment that he realises, he’s fucked up. majorly.

“w- i’m- shit, no,” shoulders slumping, “you’re taking it the wrong way,” as if there were any other way for you to take it.

“i don’t think so, you couldn’t have been clearer actually,” sending daggers through his skull, “alright,” you place your hands on your hips, “you don’t get to touch me for a week, no kissing, no cuddling.. definitely no sex,” pouting slightly, “since that’s how you wanna be.”

“what?” eddie sits up, at full attention now, “you know i didn’t mean it like that,” fumbling to turn this around.

“i don’t care, you said it,” standing strong, “now you have to live with the consequences.”

his head rolls back against the headboard, immediate regret for anything he had just said.

god only knows if he’d live to survive the week.

that night in bed, eddie turns, huffing his frustrations into the pillow. it hadn’t even been twenty four hours yet and he already felt like he was going crazy.

his hand sprawls out over the mattress, edging to touch you, though he stops just before.

“you wanna give up already?” you taunt, staring though the darkness to throw another jab at him.

“no, i don’t. i just wanna cuddle my girlfriend in bed, is that too much to ask?”

“i told you the rules, no.”

“fuuck,” grumbling to himself, “this is stupid,” pouting to himself, in his self-inflicted drought.

“maybe don’t say stupid shit and this won’t have to happen again,” smug and self-righteous as you turn away, leaving him to yearn for just a brush of skin.

the party had been a bad idea from the start. eddie had never been so pent up in his life and it had only been three, long, miserable days.

you’d made sure to wear that tiny black dress, the one he really liked. struggling to even keep his eyes on the road on the drive over.

a few beers and a no-contact order could only mean one thing and he was dreading it.

you were adamant on making eyes at him across the kitchen counter all night, driving him literally insane. any other time, you’d have snuck off to the bathroom or gone home early but he knows there is a slim chance of that happening tonight.

you sidle up to him, mischievous glint in your eye as you slide something into his pocket before slinking off again, faster than he can compute.

he reaches into his pocket, pulling out the lacy fabric just enough to realise what it was. quickly spinning on his heel so as to not let anyone else see.

your fucking panties. wrapped around his fingers for everyone to see.

there’s no hesitation about it, excusing himself to the bathroom before anyone could ask what he was doing.

holy shit. you’re fucking crazy. on another playing field completely. eddie almost wishes that he’d asked for your panties earlier, far before you’d decided to play these brutal games with him.

he slides them from his pocket, not before making sure the door was locked for the second time, holding them to his nose, like the freak he truly was.

oh god.

he misses you so bad. he’d take the most boring, uneventful missionary for the rest of his life if it meant you’d never deprive him of this ever again.

it takes a moment for him to regain enough consciousness to rejoin the party, keeping his fingers wrapped tight around the lacy material as argyle prattles on about some crazy new strain he’d discovered.

your eyes sparkle, waiting for him to meet your gaze. but he’s not giving you that. not allowing you the satisfaction of ruining him so badly.

the second the van is far enough away from the house, eddie wails loudly in despair.

“that wasn’t fair!” he whines, throwing his head back against the seat of his van, gripping onto the steering wheel for dear life.

“it’s totally fair,” you refute, smiling away to yourself.

“no it’s not,” huffing like a petulant child, “i can’t give you my boxers to sniff.. it’s not equal.”

“i’m sorry- you sniffed them?” flabbergasted, “you’re a pervert,” collapsing into a fit of giggles.

“yeah i fucking did,” proud of his perversions, he was the most sexually frustrated he had ever been, sniffing your panties was nothing compared to what he felt like doing.

“weirdo.”

eddie wants so badly to reach over, slide his hand underneath your dress and really take advantage of the no-panties situation. he was getting hard just thinking about it.

it’s crazy how much you insulting him was actually turning him on more.

“please just let me touch you,” he pleads, “i’m sorry for what i said, i need you,” there had been a time where eddie had to make do with getting to feel your touch every couple months, he’s not sure how he ever survived.

three days and he felt like he was about to implode.

not only had he dreamed of your pussy, it had been haunting him in his mundane life too.

stuck under some dusty old car at work, only thinking about how good you felt, ignoring any of the actually important things he had to do.

“nuh-uh, you made your bed, now lie in it,” propping your feet up on the dash, causing your skirt to slide even higher.

eddie couldn’t believe you’d be so evil and cruel, even in his darkest hour you were depriving him of you.

at some point in the night, eddie’s brain must have decided that enough was enough. his half-asleep, dream filled mind doesn’t really comprehend what he’s doing, hand snaking around your waist, using your body as leverage to pull himself closer, pressed against your ass.

“eddie.. eddie,” you hush, shaking his arm. “you’re cheating,” voice still hoarse and sleepy.

“i give up,” he grumbles, slowly grinding his hips against your ass, “you win, i lose,” admitting defeat at long last. if only he had sucked up his pride enough to do this four days ago.

“four days.. four fucking days,” you scold, though make no effort to move away from him, “you can’t even last a full week, you loser,” chastising him was music to his ears.

“mhm,” he grumbles into the back of your neck, “keep being mean to me, i love it,” spare hand creeping down to shift your shorts to the side.

you laugh into the pillow, moving your hips backwards against his crotch, “you’re so pathetic,” you goad, only firing him up more.

“oh god,” he groans, still rutting against the soft fabric, “i’m gonna cum right now,” whining into your ear.

“if you cum without fucking touching me, i’m gonna be so pissed off,” your grip tightening on his forearm, almost pinching him.

he huffs into your hair, slowing his rhythm to a complete stop, hastily tugging on your pajama shorts, eager to get them off and his dick wet.

this can’t have been any better on you, really, not only were you punishing him, but yourself too.

your shorts rest somewhere around your ankles as eddie struggles to get his own boxers down, grunting in sheer desperation as his cock aches for you.

his hand slides underneath your tee, pulling it up with his arm, gripping onto your boob for leverage. eddie’s never been one to take control but if he hadn’t, he’s not sure you’d have ever touched him again.

wasting no time in hoisting your leg higher, his already leaking tip nudging your sopping entrance. confirmation that you’d been just as eager for it as he was.

“‘m so hard for you,” pushing himself between your folds, shuddering at the overwhelming feelings jolting through his limbs.

“shit,” you breathe, placing your palm above his as it gropes your fleshy skin.

“need you-oh god.. so bad,” senselessly thrusting his hips, slamming against your ass while the bed begins to rock, thanking his lucky stars that wayne was still at work.

“yeah? tell me, tell me how bad you need it,” gasping for air, your soft, angelic pants fill his tiny bedroom.

eddie groans, aching to please you but also unable to fathom the correct words needed to truly convey his feelings.

“y-you’re all i think about,” tightening his grip on your skin, “at work..” panting his words out between rhythmless thrusts, “at home- fuck oh fuck,” squeezing his eyes shut, hoping to make this last at least a few minutes longer.

nothing had ever felt so euphoric, frying his nerve endings, sending his brain into a hazy state that he just may never recover from.

“fuck,” you grit, clawing at his hand, “missed you so bad,” rolling your head back to rest on his shoulder, showing no mercy to his neighbours with your echoing moans. guaranteed to receive disgusting looks from david across the way for the rest of his life.

at this point, eddie becomes an incoherent babbling mess, eyes pressed shut as his stomach flips and turns in all directions. is now the time to start thinking about having kids?

“let me.. let me cum in you,” driven wild by the thought of filling you up over and over. a rare treat that really only lead to a week of stress for you both, but so incredibly worthwhile.

chanting his name right into his ear, other hand stuck between your thighs, circling your clit with an animalistic ferocity. you’d wanted this just as bad as he did, only you were clearly more strong-willed than he’d ever be.

not a second of this had been boring or anything he ever wanted to miss again. swearing to himself that he’d never be so to open his mouth foolish again.

“y-yeah,” nodding encouragingly, “please,” nearing your own, overdue orgasm.

eddie had been clued on to all the little signs for months now, tightening around him while your moans turned more into whimpers, jaw slack and your eyes rolled back.

“shitshitshit,” he rushes, certain he’d left indentations in your skin, “gonna cum- gonna cum in you,” making sure that you know what you’d signed up for, not that he had much choice.

his orgasm rocks his body, juddering as he paints your walls, howling as the overwhelming feeling washes over again and again. four days of built up energy all coming out in one.

you shriek, “oh god,” your body turning to putty between his arms, trembling as you cum, “mine.. all mine,” cradling his arm in yours, placing half-assed kisses to his neck.

he was, unashamedly so. no one had nor could ever come close to the way you make him feel. dragging him to the lowest levels of his pride just to boost him right back up when you said shit like that.

eddie doesn’t let go, scared that you’ll come out of your haze and get mad about his failed temporary abstinence.

you shuffle round under his grip anyway, face burning and your hair resembling a birds nest, though completely content as his release drips down your leg.

your palm slaps his cheek playfully, “don’t you ever call me boring again,” squishing his flaming hot skin between your fingers, “because you’ll never touch me again,” unsure of whether you were joking or not.

“yes ma’am,” running his fingers down your side, until they reach the curve of your ass, “that’s a promise.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x y/n

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slexenskee · 7 months ago

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Don't Forget About Us (MDNSY Oneshot)

Makoto spares him an unimpressed look. “You looked like you were going to cry in front of a KFC of all fucking things a couple hours ago— and now you’re the drunkest I’ve seen you in months and seem determined to somehow sing your way out of a crisis.”

For an ask about the new bff learning about the past bff

Read here [link] or below:

“Not here,” Satoru says, which draws her up short.

They’ve just finished up a show at a nearby club, and despite the late hour are utterly ravenous. Kenji and Yui begged off for the night, leaving Makoto alone with her lead singer. Makoto has led them to the nearest appropriately greasy and unhealthy restaurant within eyeshot— a KFC. Not her go-to pick as far as fast food or even fried chicken is concerned, but beggars can’t be choosers.

Except they can, apparently, because Satoru seems pretty staunch in his disapproval.

Makoto stares at him incredulously. “Don’t tell me you’re on a diet,” she laughs, joking.

Her laughter fades as Satoru’s expression remains unchanged. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen that look on him before. Distant and constellated. Even with his glasses off he’s a bit impossible to read.

“Seriously?” Her look turns skeptical.

He’s the size of a waif and eats more sugar than should be statistically possible. And a bit of processed fast food is hardly the worst thing he’s done to himself in the time she’s known him. The cigarette dangling from his lips is a sure sign of that. And since when does he have a problem with fast food after a live show? He lives for this shit.

“I just don’t like fried chicken,” he returns, which is a blatant lie if she ever knew one. He likes fried chicken just fine; he especially likes it at one in the morning, when he’s starving after a setlist.

She rolls her eyes. “Oh my god, get something else on the menu then.” She’s starving right now, and the tantalizing scent of fried food is only making it worse.

“Anywhere but here,” he says, and this time, she can hear the threadbare shot of panic in the bottom of his voice.

Does he… Is he being serious right now? Evidently yes. Taking another look at him, he really does look unwell.

“Okay,” Makoto says, slowly, taking a step back from the well-lit doorway. “We’ll go somewhere else, then.”

“Preferably with alcohol involved,” Satoru adds, flippantly, and turns on his heel, as if the sight of a single fast food restaurant sign could do more damage to him than the excessive alcohol he’s about to consume.

Makoto lets it go, for the time being. This weird but shockingly talented bandmate of hers has the strangest hangups sometimes. She’s just learned to accept them, for the most part. And not ask too many questions— he gets real squirrelly with those. And every time she thinks she’s getting closer to the truth of him, he twists the paradigm around with yet another absurd and/or vaguely horrifying revelation.

Makoto shoves them into the nearest izakaya she can find— ironically a yakitori joint with ample fried chicken on the menu— and immediately orders them a round of beers that Satoru tacks on with a bottle of sochu. Ah. So it’s going to be one of those nights. They order a responsible amount of food with their drinks for the first few rounds, but eventually it just turns into the two of them getting wildly drunk and staggering out of the place draped over each other in search of the nearest karaoke bar.

Makoto would have thought the guy would have had enough of singing, what with performing a whole setlist just a few hours ago, but drunk!Ru-kun really only has two modes, slutty stripper Ru-kun or karaoke star Ru-kun, and since he’s still hung up over Hawks these days, it looks like they’re shutting down the karaoke bars tonight.

Not that Makoto minds, necessarily. It’s been ages since they’ve had a night out like this, and she’s got a whole weekend to be miserable and recover from what’s shaping up to be a raging hangover before she has to drag herself to work again. And for whatever reason, she’s sensing Satoru might be in desperate need of a night out himself.

The place they stumble into is equal parts nightclub and karaoke bar: a large, darkly lit open interior sprawls before them packed to the gills with dancers; disco lights zip across the crowds and the bottle services girls fighting their way to their tables with sparkling champagne thrust into the air like shooting stars; and at the far end an inebriated girl with cat ears is belting out a fairly decent rendition of Mariah Carey’s Shake it Off as she struts across the bar. In short, this is probably exactly the sort of place they were both looking for.

Makoto swindles them a free table with a bit of flirting with the hostess, and finds herself holding court among a generous crowd of random inebriated strangers thrilled to get drinks off her tab, while Satoru wanders off to find the mic. She loses track of him for a bit, but is unsurprised when he resurfaces wearing someone else’s blonde wig, up on the bar himself singing Baby One More Time as he fumbles his way through the dance routine with the cat-eared girl in tow. Still in his stage outfit from earlier in the night, he honestly looks like someone paid him to be up there, which is probably why the entire bar is clamoring towards him like he’s a celebrity or something.

He shows up at her table eventually, sprawling himself over her and the booth with his borrowed blonde wig in tangles across his face. She throws it off him as he makes grabby hands for a bottle of champagne on the table. She should probably cut him off at this point, but she’s wasted herself and doesn’t have enough fucks to care anymore, so she just pours them both another glass and clinks their glasses together.

She has no idea what time it is when she starts to feel hungry again and orders food. They could have been in this place for hours or days, and she wouldn’t be able to tell; it doesn’t seem to be in danger of closing on them any time soon. The crowds come and go, but the place stays packed and the loud music has yet to bother her, so she doesn’t feel inclined to leave. What would be the point? There’s no food at her apartment, and ever since she broke it off with her last fling, no one waiting for her either. From the way Satoru constantly gets his turn at the mic, she doubts he’s in any rush to leave either.

So maybe they’re both just eager to run away from things. But for his sake, she should probably get him to talk about it. The last time he was having some kind of internal crisis he was trying to drown out with alcohol, he’d ended up sleeping with a Top Three Hero and catching feelings for him.

“Okay, so what the hell brought this on,” she finally corners him, after he’s done with an obnoxiously impressive cover of Despacito for a guy who speaks absolutely no Spanish, and is once again sprawled in the booth with her.

“What? Nothing.” She supposes she should at least be happy to see him putting orange juice in his champagne, even if he’s yet to touch any of the food.

“It’s not my fault everyone keeps shoving the mic at me and picking great songs,” he retorts, stubbornly.

This probably means she should drop it and just let him run away from his own problems, but beyond just trying to save himself from the worst of his own vices, at this point she’s also just curious.

“Fine, drink your way out of a crisis,” she amends, then shoves a plate of dosas at him. “And at least eat something if you’re going to do that. I’m not dragging you home if you’re too drunk to walk.”

Satoru pouts ferociously, but nonetheless reaches for a crepe and tears off a bite. “I’m not having a crisis,” this idiot insists, like the emotionally stunted idiot he is.

“Really? Let’s go to a KFC then, if you’re not having a crisis about it. We’ll bring the whole band.”

“I’m not having a crisis about fucking fried chicken, okay,” Satoru says, expression turning a bit pinched. “I just— it was bad timing, is all. If I hadn’t just gotten done with playing our last setlist I would have been fine to eat there.”

This draws Makoto up a bit short. Her brow creases. “What does the setlist have to do with it?”

Satoru stares at her for a moment, indecipherable. Then he grabs his champagne and downs the whole thing. He sets the empty glass on the table as he says, “I almost had to kill my best friend in front of a KFC, once.”

It’s so unexpected she nearly drops her own drink. “What?”

No, seriously. What the fuck?

“He’d gone off the rails and killed a bunch of people,” Satoru continues, only bewildering her further. “I was supposed to put him down, but at the time I just couldn’t do it. I tracked him down, stood outside the store ready to kill him, and I just… I couldn’t do it.”

Makoto leans back in her seat, reeling.

She’d call it some bizarre made up bullshit, but sadly, every facet of Satoru’s life sounds like bizarre made up bullshit, so it’s probably the truth.

She scrambles for a response. “I— when was this?”

��A while ago,” he answers, clipped. He reaches for the entire bottle of champagne, and this time doesn’t even bother with the glass. She doesn’t stop him.

She has no idea what she expected from this mysterious and eccentric bandmate of hers, but admitting to attempted murder was really not in her cards for the guy. Then again, what did she expect? She watches him down the entire bottle as she tries, and fails, to get her thoughts together. There’s just so much to infer from this and she doesn’t even know where to start. Just what kind of guy was his best friend, that he’d gone on a killing spree? And why would it ever be Satoru’s responsibility to execute him for his crimes? And what does that have to do with their setlist?

She at least gets one of the answers she’s searching for.

Satoru wipes at his mouth, looking out into the strobe lights as he says, “He wasn’t a bad person. He just… wanted more than life could ever grant him.”

Makoto blinks, realization dawning hard and fast.

(I wanted more than life could ever grant me)

Satoru never talks about how he writes his music. He swears, in fact, that it doesn’t really mean anything to him at all— that he just makes them up off the top of his head. Makoto had never once believed that, and now she has the proof. She’s heard him sing Today is the Greatest hundreds of times at this point, but she’d always thought it was about himself. The more she learns about him, the more she realizes some of those lines align a little too closely to his own experiences to be anything but personal. But she supposes two things can be true at once; that song can be about him, but still remind him of a friend he’d lost.

She almost doesn’t want to ask, but… “What happened to him?”

Even the stifling, crowded warmth of the nightclub plunges into ice as he says, without looking at her, “I can only hope he found more peace in death than he did in life.”

Makoto startles at the implication.

But at the time, I just couldn’t do it.

So he managed it, in the end?

Before she can even fathom up a response, the cat-eared girl is leaping over the booth to wrap her arms around Satoru, begging him to get up and help her duet yet another Mariah Carey song.

“Make it Don’t Forget About Us and I’ll do it,” he says.

Without hesitation she agrees, and he grabs his ridiculous wig and jumps over the seat to join her. He’s probably eager to once again run away from his feelings and, this time, she can’t blame him whatsoever. Or on second thought, as they really get into it in the chorus, she has to wonder if this isn’t actually him running from his feelings so much as confronting them head on? "When it’s real, it’s forever" indeed.

She learns a hell of a lot about her ridiculous bandmate over the course of the following months, but she never quite gets a straight answer over his former best friend, and possibly first love, and she never directly asks, either. If he wants to tell her, she’ll listen, but otherwise she’ll let him approach it in his own time.

But she does make sure he knows she’s around if he ever wants to talk about it.

They’re at that same R&B karaoke joint, this time enjoying their time in a far more sedate and far less exorbitant manner with drinks at the bar. Satoru has long since lost that blonde wig, but the bartenders have clearly never forgotten ‘Karaoke Queen Ruru’ because they shower them with a generous amount of free shots and make pointed questions about the karaoke queue every time. Satoru waves them off with a laugh though, insisting he’s just here for a quiet night out.

“You’ve gotten boring ever since you got wifed up,” Makoto denounces as he hedges off yet another turn at the mic.

Satoru’s expression turns a bit pinched— and panicked. “I’m not married,” he hisses, furtively. “And don’t say that so loud! I don’t need the rumors to get any worse.”

“Not married yet,” Makoto revises, rolling her eyes. “For reasons that still allude me. What are you waiting for, exactly? You can’t ask for a more public or dramatic proposal than the one you already got.”

“It’s not that,” he insists, rolling his glass in his hands.

Makoto blinks at him. “Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet.”

“I’m not,” Satoru remarks, although he does look a bit shifty-eyed. Makoto squints at him. A bit of dread sinks in her stomach.

“Satoru,” she starts, cautiously. “If you really don’t want this…”

“It’s definitely not that either,” he assures her quickly. His mouth pinches into a tight line. “I know it took me, like, an inconceivably long amount of time to get to the point where I can admit it outside of our various discographies, but I do want Hawks. I don’t have any doubts about it.”

He stops, the silence holding for a heavy, offbeat moment as he seems to want to say more, but can’t manage to force the words out. Makoto isn’t sure what else to do but wait patiently for him to finish, and when he doesn’t, flag the bartender down for shochu shots. Nothing like a bit of liquid courage to brace yourself for some trauma dumping.

Satoru huffs out a laugh as she rolls one down the bar towards him, clinking their glasses together. “Thanks,” he says, as they cheers.

“What are friends for?” She counters, tossing the shot back.

Satoru follows her, then sets the glass back down on the bar as he wipes the salt off his lips. “I don’t have any doubts,” he repeats, after a moment. “I guess I just… need a bit more time to let go.”

Let go? Her brow furrows in confusion. Let go of what?

Then she remembers the last time they were at this bar. The last time Satoru had run away from his past straight into the arms of excessive alcohol and a cat-eared girl singing R&B classics. Remembers his request for his last song, where he’d stood on top of a filthy bar and belted out, “I’m just speaking from experience, nothing can compare to your first true love” to a packed dance floor all singing along with their hands in the air.

She sets her own glass down. “Were you and your friend… were you two like that?” She asks, hesitantly.

Were you lovers, before you killed him?

She’s a little relieved when he shakes his head. Romantic or not, she’s sure that doesn’t lessen the pain, just makes it a different kind of regret.

“No. Well— not exactly.” He looks conflicted. “We never… it was never like that. It might have been, but, well…”

Then he had some kind of psychotic break and turned into a mass murderer, and Satoru had to be the one to put an end to him permanently. Right. What a fucking mess. No wonder this guy has spent most of his life doing his level best to avoid his own past. The more she learns about it, the more depressing it gets.

She nudges him sympathetically with her knee. “It’s okay to mourn the loss of what could have been,” she says, gently. “It’s not wrong to need time to move on— no matter how much time that is.”

Satoru nods, looking lost in his own thoughts.

Makoto bites her lip. “... Does Hawks know?”

He blinks, surfacing from his own head to look at her. “Yeah,” he answers, without hesitation. Then he lets out a sharp, bitter chuckle. “He knows everything, but he sticks around anyway. I don’t really know what I did to deserve him.”

“And what are the rest of us then, chopped liver?” She kicks him in the shin. “I’m not going anywhere either, you jerk.”

Satoru’s eyes are very wide as he stares at her. Then he ducks his head, a bit bashful. “Yeah,” he agrees, looking a little wistful. “I got really lucky with all of you, didn’t I?”

“Damn right you did!” She kicks him again for good measure. “I’m sticking around, no matter how many stupid identity reveals you try to throw at me. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

He barks out a laugh, grinning widely. “Good! Mark your words, I’m holding you to that!”

(And when he confesses his plans for an anime of all fucking things, and reveals an entire past life’s worth of trauma at them, she screams a lot but she does, indeed, stick around to turn it into the best damn anime ever produced.)

idk I was listening to a lot of Mariah Carey's 2000's hits and remembered I'd made another Satoru cross-dressing alter-ego specifically to sing R&B karaoke hits so here we are 🤷‍♀️

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#fic may death never stop you #mdnsy oneshots

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bloodyinkandquill · 2 months ago

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Firebrand x pheonix/immortal Reader

this one really cool phighting x reader ARTIST i like liked some of my posts i genuinely screamed, like i fucking shouted i was so happy that they thought my writings were good enough to like THREE of them dvsishksgdishsja

immediately after writing that i went to check twitter and saw aidn’s tweet, no spoilers but i have never an to my laptop faster and stimmed so hard.

anyways onto the actual thing you guys are here for, the x reader hcs!

- Cursed, you were cursed. That was the only way to see it, whatever curse your gear had given you made you miserable, it was cool the first few times, after dying you came back in a flame, rose from the ashes, but after centuries you were so tired and lonely, you got attached to mortals too much, attachment was futile, you’ll watch them pass on while you remain on the Inphinity

- You gave up on civilization, living in a remote cabin far away from any other demons, but every once in a while, wether that was months or years, you’d take a day trip out to the Inpherno, it could change so much between your visits or barely at all

- It was on one such trip where you were just walking around looking at what vendors had to offer, couples passing by, kids on their way to cause trouble that you heard something odd, a male voice saying your motto, attachment was futile, overcome with curiosity you followed the loud voice till you saw the source, you weren’t an idiot, if you lived in the Inpherno and didn’t know what the deities looked like that was idiotic, in front of you was not one but two of them, Firebrand and Icedagger

- The taller of the two was knelt down to be on the shorter’s level and was clearly comforting him, he was telling him that he needs to learn, mortals die and that he mustn’t get too attached, he would loose them eventually, but the snow god cried anyways

- You understood his pain, loosing so many people you had foolishly come to love, you were the likely only one besides for the swords that understood that pain, as far as you knew you were the only one with that curse, the curse of being the pheonix

- As you observed you accidentally stepped on something, a paper bag that crumbled and made noise alerting the two gods in their private interaction, they both instantly turned towards you as you raised your hands in show of not meaning any harm, you apologized for interrupting their conversation, but Firebrand had a strange look on his face, he said something to the affect of you felt different than other mortals, you had a deep sadness in your eyes, which like ouch, fair, but ouch

- You tentatively asked if he had heard the urban legends of a demon from centuries past given the name pheonix, he nodded and you revealed that that was you, an immortal mortal, he looked a bit skeptical but could also see the years and pain behind your eyes, similar to that of him and his siblings, Icedagger spoke up saying he didn’t know of the legends, you explained the stories people told of you, a demon cursed by their gear to forever walk the Inphinity, anytime you shall die you’re swallowed by the flames and emerge again anew, never allowed to pass on

- Icedagger asked if that meant you knew how he felt, the pain of becoming too attached to people you were destined to loose, watch grow old and fade away as you had so many times before, you said you did, you believed only you, him, and his siblings knew the feeling

- Firebrand spoke up asking if you’d want to accompany him for tea, he had heard the legends form mortals of you but never believed them, thought they were just stories the mortals told, you agreed and things spiraled from there

- Now you have someone you can love without fear of loosing them, and likewise, you knew the pain of loving someone who you would be helpless to save, and now that you had each other you and him wouldn’t have to experience it as bad as you had before, he thought it might have been fate, you’re reborn form the fire, his fire, it could not have been coincidence

- You loved each other wholeheartedly, knowing that you could till the end of time, even as others died and turned to dust, cities fell and crumbled, you would have each other, it was the most amazing thing you could have ever asked for, someone who understood your sadness but would never cause you that same sadness again, maybe, just maybe, your gear was a blessing, and not a curse

HOLY SHIT THAT WAS FAR MORE POETIC AND JUNK THAN I INTENDED, like holy shit i had a basic idea for what to do, then i’d do regular writings of like dates or whatever, instead i wrote that fucking masterpiece, it’s 1 am and i just channeled fucking william shakespeare i swear bros, anyways uh, thanks for reading ill either go to bed now or get one more request done, we shall see i have class tomorrow but i really like doing these requests so…

#x reader #phighting #phighting x reader #phighting!#firebrand phighting #phighting firebrand #firebrand x reader #phighting firebrand x reader #firebrand x reader phighting

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0san-ta0 · 7 months ago

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I Wish I Could Forget About You| g. clarkey (Part 2)

synopsis ★ george and y/n have been on 'break' for a while, leaving them both miserable and reflective. when they finally meet again the heart finally gets what it wants.

pairing ★ fem!reader x george clarkey

author's notes ★ hi! hope you're having an amazing day/night! sorry for the long wait life's been pretty hectic but I hope you enjoy!! <33

it had been a month since you sat in your living room and watched george drag his stuff out of your apartment. you had to be honest with yourself, the first two weeks were hell. of course you had partially become accustomed to george not being around but, back then there was the tiny thought in the back of your mind that he would return to you. now as the days kept moving you started to think that maybe he never would be back. your time was made even worse as george hadn't stopped texting and calling the entire time and you were stupid enough to listen to his voicemails which left you in absolute shambles.

he begged you to take him back, he begged for you to atleast let him hear your voice or to atleast look at him. the day he left he returned to his shared apartment where he walked past his friends without as much as a hello and holed himself up in his room. the boys could feel the sadness emanating from him as his door slammed shut and they could only imagine what he had went through. george sat on the floor infront of his bed and cried, for the first time in years he let tears flow down his cheeks. he hadn't realised how badly he fucked up. how his actions towards you had hurt you so much. he didn't blame you for leaving, he couldn't blame you for leaving. but god, the two weeks were the worst he had ever had in his life. not being able to see your face, to touch your skin, to even just smell your perfume was driving him mad. coupled with the immense bullying he faced from all his friends after he relayed the events from the night before, his life was horrible.

both arthur's were your biggest advocates when george started ranting to them about your decision. they both had been big in reminding him that he needed to make sure that he was giving you adequate love and attention because you were amazing to him. now it was them drilling it into his head that in this case he was absolutely in the wrong and that all they could advise him was to apologise to you and try to take accountability. but it was hard to apologise when you refused to even read his texts. he needed to try though because without you it felt pointless living. after the second week he decided that he would give you space to think and process what was happening and honestly, he hated it even more than just being away from you.

from your perspective, you were equally or even more miserable. you were second guessing your decision, wishing only to kiss and make up with george. the voice in the back of your head reminding you that you need to stand your ground and get a decent relationship. putting aside your morals now, wasn't going to help the situation or get george to miraculously change his ways.

you spent your days wandering around your apartment rearranging everything, hoping it would erase the memories. but it only ended up being a sick joke as everything you touched made you remember george. the couch where he would lay in your lap whilst you watched your favourite movies or the kitchen where he would place you on the counter and kiss you senseless. you missed his you touch, his scent, his presence, you missed everything about him.

a knock sounded on your door and you turned your head to stare at it. a groan escapes your lips as you stand, sulking towards the door. leaning forward you look through the peephole and your eyes are met with a familiar head of blonde hair.

"y/n, please. I know you're there. I just....." he trails off taking a breath, "I just need to talk to you. please, I can't take it anymore."

his voice through the door was muffled but you could hear the hesitation in his voice. through the peephole you watched as his shoulders slumped and ran a hand through his hair.

before you have the time to register what you were doing, your hand reaches forward to unlock the door. outside george's head perks up and comes face to face with you. his eyes are bloodshot and puffy, his skin blotchy and red. your heart felt heavy as you stared at his disheveled appearance, regretting every decision she had made leading up to this moment.

he opened his mouth to speak but before he could say a word you put up your hand to stop him. "george?" was all she could muster before you felt tears threatening to fall again.

"sorry for showing up unannounced. I just really needed to see you, honestly life's been horrid without you. and I know that you leaving was all my doing but all I need is a minute of your time to apologise. if after that you don't want to take me back then that's fine but please just listen." he sputters out, eyes burning into yours.

you give him a simple nod of your head and he continues. "I've spent the past few weeks listening to arthur giving me shit about how I acted towards you and I can tell you now that the way I acted towards you was absolutely disgusting. you have every right to hate me but I just need you to know that I'm sorry. and I know that sorry can't even begin to fix what we had but i just need you to know that I understand what I did and I promise to you that I will never ever let you become a second place in my life. I promise that if you forgive me that I will never ever take you for granted again because being without you has been the worst experience of my life and I never wish to experience.."

then your resolve snapped and all you could do was lean forward to press your lips to his, effectively cutting off his rant. his arms snacked around your waist and your arms found their way to his shoulders. you'd missed moments like these, moments where it felt like you were the only two people in the world, where you felt like wanted and needed.

pulling away you stared into his eyes for a brief moment. "I missed you too george. But, if you think for a moment that I will ever let you hurt me again and be as forgiving as I am now then you're sorely mistaken."

he gazed at her, nodding quickly, "thank you for giving me another chance. you have nothing to worry about and If you ever believe that I'm not loving you enough then you can leave, no questions asked."

#george clarkey #x reader #chaos crew #george clarkey imagine #george clarkey x reader #fluff

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hockeynoses · 7 months ago

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R/oy x Jam/ie (Somno/philia Snz Fic)

Summary: Consensual somnophilia when Jamie has a cold. Includes snzing into the covers (inspired by this post and my original post about it is here). Roy has the kink.

Warnings: Mess. 2.2k.

Roy can’t fall asleep. He’s been trying for the past hour, but he’s just so fucking distracted. Lying in the darkness of their room, he can feel the heat of Jamie’s body beside him. He’s been listening to the cadence of his breathing, uneven with congestion.

Jamie’s so stuffed up that he’s forced to breathe through his mouth, drying his throat and causing him to wake in fits and starts with cute little snuffles and coughs, rubbing his face into the pillow, the sheets, whatever’s in reach.

Roy himself hasn’t escaped unscathed, not that he minds, of course. Quite the opposite, in fact. Jamie had fallen asleep on Roy’s chest, peppering him with enough wet, heavy sneezes to cause all Roy’s blood to flow straight to his cock. He had tried his best to remain still and not wake his boyfriend, reaching down with his free hand and giving himself a couple cursory strokes to take the edge off in the hopes that he’d settle back down after that.

After several minutes, Jamie had stirred with a syrupy sniffle and rolled off Roy to his side of the bed, facing away from him. Roy’s grateful for the relief, and the ability to move his limbs freely without the weight of Jamie’s muscle mass smothering him.

So here Roy lies, deciding whether or not to wrap a hand around his cock and finish what Jamie unknowingly started. His skin feels itchy with need. It’s been a special kind of exquisite torture, looking after Jamie when he’s this sick. He’s fucking irresistible enough on a normal day, but this… this is more than Roy can take. His nerves are a constant live wire, jumping to attention every time Jamie sneezes or lets out a particularly miserable groan. The heady tension of desire and restraint constantly thrumming through Roy’s veins. Flushes spilling down his neck in a way that has Jamie smirking into his tissues. It’s like something out of a wet dream.

Jamie knows, of course. They’d talked about it months ago. He had assured Roy that it was fine. They’re both into plenty of freaky stuff, and Jamie has a very open mind. He’d gone so far as to say it was charming, the cheeky prick.

He knows Jamie would do just about anything he asks him to, so Roy takes it upon himself to be the one to set boundaries. He insists they have a safeword, in this and any other kinky shit they get up to. He doesn’t want to take advantage of Jamie when he’s sick. Doesn’t want to press him, but he has to trust that Jamie would tell him if it ever got to be too much.

They’d even talked about –

Roy squeezes his eyes shut. Is he really that desperate?

Jamie said it was okay. That he was flattered, always happy for any and all of Roy’s attention and love.

Their conversation from earlier that day flashes through Roy’s mind, as if to prove to himself that it actually happened.

“You dknow how we talked about… mbe being asleeb?” Jamie asks as he finishes blowing his chapped nose for the millionth time.

Roy grunts in affirmation, laser-focused on his boyfriend.

“You could sdtill do that, whend I’b like this.”

Something coils in Roy’s gut, sinister and so, so tempting. They joke about him being a sadist, but this feels like a lot, even for him. But oh god, he wants it.

He knows as soon as Jamie says it that he’s going to do it. How could he not? Now that Jamie’s offering it to him on a silver platter.

“Are you sure?” he forces out, his throat tight with lust.

“Of course. I trust you.” Jamie says. He presses the crumpled tissue to his pink, dripping nostrils. “And one of us mbight as well enjoy ihh… hih’AEETTSHH’uh! SNF. Endjoy id.”

“Okay,” Roy says, the idea taking shape in his mind. “You do need your rest.”

“Exactly, mbate. We can both get what we want.” His tired, red-rimmed eyes soften. “Love that you’re still into mbe evedn when I’b disgustin’.” He gives a playful leer that quickly dissolves into a wrenching sneeze. “uh…ha…HA’IGGHHSH’IUE!”

And Roy can’t go another second without touching him after that.

Roy’s cock twitches at the memory, dragging his attention back to the present.

His hard-on is insistent now; it hasn’t flagged at all. Probably because Jamie’s lying next to him making all sorts of sounds and Roy can’t focus on anything but that. Every noise he makes only serves as a reminder to Roy of just how full of cold Jamie is. He’d taken a considerable amount of Nyquil before bed to combat it, or at the very least to knock him out, and it seems to have only accomplished the latter.

Unable to take anymore, he decides to give in, reminding himself that he doesn’t have to feel guilty. Jamie asked for this.

He curls against Jamie, blanketing his back with the warm line of his body. He brings his hands to Jamie’s hips, buries his face in the nape of his neck, smelling the familiar warmth of Jamie’s skin. Jamie snuffles a bit – and Roy freezes – but he stays asleep.

His cock fits perfectly between Jamie’s pert ass cheeks, and Roy digs his fingers into the skin of Jamie’s hips as hard as he dares to pull him closer. Panting his hot breath against the back of Jamie’s neck, already so worked up. It’s like he’s popped the cork of a shaken bottle of champagne and all his desire is spilling out of him. Their bodies are sleep-warm beneath the sheets, and Roy feels like he’s going to combust. He starts a slow, easy grind against Jamie’s ass, forever grateful that the man sleeps with no pants on.

Jamie breath hitches and he groans out a little sound – Nng – nuzzling his face against his pillow. Roy doesn’t stop.

His runny nose has already leaked onto the pillowcase. Roy’s had to switch them out every day, throwing the snotty things in the wash. If Roy lifts his head a little, he can watch Jamie’s face contort, nostrils flaring as a sneeze builds in his sleep. Jamie’s chest expands as his breath picks up – “huh… huh-ggsh’TCHH’iue!” The sneeze sends mess bubbling from his nose, spraying down onto the sheets and his chest.

He still doesn’t blink awake. The Nyquil must have really knocked him out. The thought goes straight to Roy’s dick, heady with the knowledge that he could do whatever he wanted and Jamie might not even wake up; a sick power trip that’s been gifted to him.

“Fuck,” he grits between his teeth, pressing his forehead to Jamie’s shoulder as his thrusts turn more desperate.

Jamie snuffles again, his sinuses thick as molasses. His open mouth sucks in a sharp breath before – “ha’kxxgsh’uh!” another viscous, sickly sneeze coats his upper lip and the pillow below him. He moans, and Roy, through the haze in his own brain, tries to decipher if it’s in discomfort or if it has to do with the fact that Jamie’s dick is thickening up now – his body reacting to Roy even like this – dead to the world, sick as a dog, and hopped up on drugs. If there’s one constant in this life, it’s that Jamie’s going to get hard for him.

Christ, you’re gonna be the death of me, he thinks.

Needing more, he lifts Jamie’s leg as gently as he can – he’s so fucking pliant like this - and thrusts his dick between his fucking tree trunk thighs; one of the many benefits of dating a professional footballer. It provides him with just the right amount of the friction he’s so desperately seeking, the corded muscles like a vice on his dick.

The tight heat of Jamie’s thighs sends Roy careening closer to the edge, a growing, molten pressure in his gut. He’s still not awake yet, Roy marvels, breaking a sweat.

As though summoned by his thoughts, Jamie’s breath starts to hitch again - little frustrated gasps in and out. Roy doesn’t halt the movement of his hips. He buries his face in the back of Jamie’s neck and keeps pumping into that warm, inviting place between his thighs.

“ah…hah… ha’NGGSSHH’UH!” The sneeze rocks them both as it tears out of Jamie, spraying the sheets and clinging to the bottom of his face in a sheer glossy mess. Roy’s hips stutter with another sharp spike of lust.

Jamie groans, low and confused, and Roy feels it reverberate through him where he’s fused to Jamie’s back.

“Mm…Roy?” he mumbles, cracking his bleary eyes open. Roy slows his pace but doesn’t stop the rhythmic slide of his hips.

“I’m right here,” he says, his quiet voice strained with his quick breath. “Go back to sleep. I’ve got you.”

“Ngh… Cadn’t… heh… hih’nngg’SHOO! Ugh. Cadn’t breathe.”

Roy’s halfway to outer space right now, with the brain function to match, so he does the only thing he can think of and gathers the section of the comforter that’s in front of Jamie and presses it to his slick face. These sheets are fucked anyway, he reasons.

“Blow for me,” his voice rolls deep in Jamie’s ear. Jamie doesn’t even hesitate, still half-asleep and fuzzy from the Nyquil. He simply does as Roy says, mustering all the energy he has in his sleepy state to force out a gurgling blow, soaking the comforter with a heavy amount of snot.

“Good boy, get it all out.” He starts to pull the fabric away from Jamie’s face, strings of mess still tethered, when the sound of Jamie’s breath scissoring in and out goes straight to his dick. Fuck, he isn’t going to last much longer.

He props himself up on one elbow to have a better view of Jamie’s face as it contorts in a delicious pre-sneeze expression, still covered in mess and about to get worse. He doesn’t even have his eyes open, but his eyebrows pull up desperately as his red, wet nostrils twitch.

After one last sharp inhale of breath, a heaving double bursts from him - “huh… hih’AEESSHH’IUE! Hah…ha-Heh’GKSSHHTT!” – unleashed openly into the inches of space between him and the already-slimy comforter, coating it even further, spots of liquid turning the fabric dark where it lands.

“Fuck - Jamie.” Roy’s voice punches out of him, raw with need. Lightning jolts through him, his hips fucking into the tight clench of him, an exquisite pressure building. He sets his teeth against Jamie’s shoulder in a bite, as gentle as he can stand. Jamie groans and tries to snort up the congestion that’s shifted in his sinuses once again.

It takes all Roy’s concentration to arrange the comforter in his hand to find a clean spot and bring it to Jamie’s face for more.

“Come on. Again,” he grunts out, head swimming with his imminent orgasm. Jamie obeys. Of course he does. The squelching, miserable sound of it shivers down Roy’s spine. The viscous mess fills the section of fabric, drenching it through until Roy can feel it warm against his skin.

Fuck. Jamie’s breath starts to hitch again, and Roy thinks he must have done something very good in a previous life to deserve this. I’m so close, he thinks, his hips rutting in time with Jamie’s staccato breaths.

Jamie’s head rears back, pulling away from the sodden blanket before splattering it with another exhausted, desperate fit – “ah…hah’iiggh’SHIUE! Hih…hih-kngxxt’GSSHT!” The Nyquil and fatigue are banding together to turn his sneezes haphazard and unrestrained. His face is slack with it; mouth open as he heaves in another breath. “Ugh… ihh… hih’GgSHHuh! Hah… Hiiiih-ZZSSHHESSHH!” He finishes with a monster of a sneeze, sullying everything with a wrenching, wet deluge of filth.

Reaching a fever pitch, Roy’s thrusts stutter before pumping once, twice – then there’s a rush in his ears as he comes so hard he sees stars. Thick, white ropes of come coat Jamie’s thighs as Roy chases his pleasure, fucking him through it.

When Roy comes back to earth, he pulls out from Jamie’s thighs, hissing at the sensation. Nuzzling into Jamie’s neck, he peppers soft kisses against the warm skin there, luxuriating in the smell of him. Jamie sniffles and rouses a bit at that, and Roy tightens his hold around his middle.

One last time, Roy finds a dry part of the blanket - no easy task at this point - and wipes Jamie’s face clean as best he can.

“Roy?” Jamie blinks, half-awake as Roy pulls the blankets up around them. The sheets are truly disgusting, but only in certain spots. They’re both sure to wake up sticky tomorrow, but Roy’s too satiated and fucked out to deal with it right now. And he doesn’t want to disrupt Jamie’s rest any further. They’ll just have to enjoy a nice hot shower together in the morning, and Roy can throw the sheets in the wash then.

“Shh. You did so good, love.”

Jamie gives a sweet little moan and reaches for Roy’s hands around him, holding him there. He snuggles back into his pillow.

“Go back to sleep now. You need your rest.”

Roy’s hand drifts down to Jamie’s cock, checking the state of him, and finds him still half hard. Jamie cants his hips against Roy’s hand on instinct, but doesn’t give him much more than that.

Roy chuckles into his hair. He really does need his rest and Roy doesn’t want to risk waking him up further. It’s nothing that can’t wait.

“Sleep. I’ll take care of you tomorrow.”

Jamie’s contented sigh is the last thing he hears before sleep pulls him under.

#snzblr #snzfic #snz fic #snzfics #snz fics #finished 2 fics in a day! I'm on a roll #this one took me 4 months 😭🙏#jam/ie ta/rtt

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0nlythrowharrybeaux · 2 years ago

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The Divine Feminine**

It's here! I got obsessed and put off writing the next WW chapter, but I hope you guys like this enough to forgive me! This is very much female body worshiping kind of smut!

Warnings: roofying attempt, human x supernatural relationship, edging, pain kink, overstimulation, forced orgasms, nipple play, oral (fem & male receiving), anal play (fem receiving), unprotected sex, CNC, slight degradation (if you squint real hard). I think that's it?

WC: 11.2k

Here's my masterlist

Hades was quite literally miserable when the time came for Persephone to leave the underworld. Like clockwork, Hermes would show up and escort her back to Olympus where she’d be for six long and dreadful months. That’s why he found himself up on earth on this night, he liked to come up and just people watch sometimes. Being a god, nothing slipped past him and unfortunately, for the people he honed in on, it was judgement day. He wasn’t in a great mood, so he was particularly harsh as he watched people and imagined what kind of afterlife they’d be up against when their time to join him came.

He knew how to disguise himself well and for the task at hand he didn’t want to call too much attention to himself. So he was currently looking like an older man, his outfit was nearly matching that of the waiters, and he just hung back alone in his seat in the corner of the bar. It was a luxurious one. He liked coming to this bar because he knew that the people here were riddled with secrets and that as gorgeous as their physical appearances and displays were, their hearts and souls were dark and ugly and full of ill will.

He was mentally condemning some lady for gossiping about her daughter in law when he saw a young woman being helped into a seat in the other back corner of the room, just across from him. She reminded him a bit of Persephone, her coy smile and benevolent eyes were so distinct. He tuned in his hearing just as she thanked her date for his chivalry. As the night went on he continued minding the couple. It was their second date and they seemed to be getting on well enough. But suddenly he got a bad feeling about the man before her and he focused harder to tune everything else out and be able to hear what was truly going on in his head. The man was upset that this gorgeous woman he was with hadn’t put out and he was going to have her tonight, regardless of what she wanted. This infuriated him and made his fists tighten in rage because this reminded him of his own perfect wife.

People could say or think whatever they wanted about he and Persephone, but only them two knew why he kidnapped her from Olympus. Her beauty was incomparable and the gods and goddesses up there were just as depraved and wretched as the people here. They were full of lust and spite and jealousy and he knew what they were capable of, so he took her away before they could hurt her. Obviously, to cover his ass own ass, Zeus changed the story to continue feeding this narrative of him being the good one and Hades being the villain, but it couldn’t have been further from the truth. And he watched in horror from his dark corner as this man slipped something in her drink while she was off in the restroom. He had to do something, he would deal with that prick when his time came. He stood and headed off behind the heavy velvet, scarlet curtain that led to the bathrooms. He stepped inside and found he was alone and he closed his eyes and willed away his disguise. His true appearance was gorgeous and angelic, perfect in every way. His looks helped his charm go a lot further and right now he needed to make this girl trust him. So he stepped out of the bathroom and waited a bit longer until she stepped out of the bathroom. Their eyes met briefly and she offered him a smile politely as she started to head off.

“Excuse me, miss?” He spoke up and she turned around.

“Me?” She asked and the second their eyes met again he felt overcome with her beauty. It wasn’t just physically, the beauty of her soul emanated from her so strongly it called to that part of him that he often suppressed and saved for his wife. He swallowed thickly as he tried to remember what he was supposed to be doing.

“Ummm, yes. Y-you don’t know me at all, but I needed to come and tell you that I saw the man you’re with put something in your drink while you were gone.” He explained and she immediately frowned.

“Seriously?” She asked with so much hurt and disappointment in her voice and he nodded.

“Yeah, I just wanted to let you know because it would be awful if something happened to you.” He said and she sighed and looked down at her shoes before looking back into his eyes.

“Wow, thank you so much. I don’t…I don’t even know what to say.” She said quietly in disbelief.

“It’s alright. Again, just want to make sure you’re alright.” He assured with sincerity.

“Yeah…ummm, I don’t even know if I should go back out there.” She said quietly, “He drove me here.” She explained with concern.

“Well if you’d like to go that back door leads to the alley and you could slip out undetected.” He suggested and she bit on her lip pensively for a moment as she weighed out the option.

“I don’t know, isn’t that rude?” She asked and he chuckled.

“He was about to drug you. I’d say not.” He said and she chuckled breathily as she realized what she had just asked.

“Right.” She shook her head as if that would help clear away all of the thoughts screaming and shouting for her attention in her head. He could hear them and her concerns and her hurt and he just wanted to help her, “Maybe I should go.” She said and he nodded. He led her to the back of the hallway and opened the door up for her. She was now standing right in front of him, looking deeply into his eyes with gratitude. The slight breeze was wafting that delicious cocktail of her natural scent and her perfume right into his face and he had never felt so tempted or hungry for a human in his life.

Even he could see the effect that he had on her. He could read her mind after all and she was dying to look him over, but she was too shy to and not allowing herself to check him out.

“Ummm, I’m Y/N, what was your name? I didn’t get it.” She said and well, he was kind of frazzled.

“Ha-” he paused when he realized he was about to reveal his true name, “Harry. I’m Harry.”

“Well, thank you, Harry.” she said with a small smile and he shook his head.

“No need, just doing the right thing.” He assured and she nodded and slipped out. As soon as the heavy door shut he missed her. He could follow her, but that was dangerous. His resolve would surely break if he got any closer to her, so he decided to retire for the evening. With a touch of his finger to the wall he opened up a portal back to the underworld where he would revel in his victory for the night and plot the demise of the wicked souls he had encountered up above.

**********

It had been three weeks and Y/N could not stop thinking about the handsome stranger who had helped her escape from her date with Nicholas. Truly, she had dated him to give him and herself a chance. He seemed nice and they had mutual friends…She was ready to finally get back out there after her breakup last year and this was what she got? Well, she was grateful actually because it could’ve been worse, a lot worse. Many people, women especially, don’t get that lucky.

Admittedly, she had been looking around town for him and had yet to spot him anywhere. She tried her best to describe him to her friends from work and they hadn’t ever seen anyone like him. They didn’t live in a huge town, but it was a rather wealthy community, so maybe he had been here in passing on business or something? She wasn’t wealthy by any means, she was actually a 3rd grade teacher at one of the private schools in this suburban town, so she knew and heard plenty about the townspeople from the gossipy moms and dads and she hadn’t heard anything about anyone named Harry. And in a way she was disappointed at the lack of presence from her mysterious hero. Maybe he was her guardian angel? She believed in a higher power and maybe that had worked in her favor that night? Whatever it was that called on him to save her, she was eternally grateful and willing for fate to allow her to see him again.

**********

Hades couldn’t stop thinking about the girl, Y/N. It had almost been a month and she was engraved in his mind. He was in a conflict because he was reliable, consistent, and above all else faithful to his wife, Persephone. It didn’t matter to him that she was ripped away from him for months at a time, he had never, ever been tempted or even looked upon another being with the lust and want he had for her. She was the sole object of his obsession, passion, and love for millennia. And now this other woman, a human no less, was flooding his mind. He knew that what he did with another being didn’t matter to Persephone. Being one of the big three meant that he needed to produce heirs from time to time. These heirs would grow to be leaders and agents of change in the world, they were more susceptible to the gods’ will and influence and this helped the gods manage the world without having to get too hands on. He would typically fulfill this by donating sperm and letting it all happen on its own, unlike his brothers who would manipulate and take the mate they wanted. He hadn’t been with anyone after Persephone, but she would always assure him that it would be alright if he found someone that he wanted to produce his heir or even be with during their time apart. It wasn’t like Persephone didn’t take lovers, she was a queen, a goddess, she could do whatever she well pleased, it was her choice. Hades wasn’t jealous though because he knew that at the end of the day she was his and he knew that Persephone would feel the same if he took any lovers. He just hadn’t ever needed to or wanted to.

But as the days passed and he gave it more thought it became clearer and clearer to him that the only way through these feelings of longing was to find Y/N and see her again. He made preparations to have a place to settle for some time on earth, because even if he found her, he had a feeling that he would need to work up the courage to do something about everything he felt for her.

**********

Y/N had truly given up on finding Harry after nearly two months of searching so when she walked into her usual cafe on a Saturday morning she was frozen at the door for a few seconds when she saw him grabbing his order from the pick-up counter. She finally started to walk towards him, to catch him before he left.

“Harry?” She asked and he glanced up from checking the time on his watch. He looked surprised, “Hi.” She said with a smile of disbelief, “I don’t know if you even remember me, but-”

“Y/N. How could anyone forget you?” He asked with a demure smile as he saw her look away bashfully for a moment and he could hear the excited pounding of her heart and her thoughts in a frenzy. He even caught a “he’s so much hotter than I remember” and he struggled to bite back his grin with that one. This was purely coincidental, he hadn’t been looking for her today, he had been for a week already once he settled in, but today he just needed a break and suddenly here she was.

“You’re too sweet.” She mumbled with a humble shake of her head, “I ummm- it’s good to see you.” She said and finally looked back into his eyes. She was about to say she’s been looking everywhere for him, but maybe that wouldn’t be the best way to start this out.

“You as well, I’ve ummm, I’ve thought of you often.” He admitted and she felt a shot of excitement zap through her body.

“Oh. Me too!” She said and then shook her head, “Me of you, not me of me. Er- I’ve thought about you too. A lot.” She explained quite badly and his lips quirked up to the left, carving his dimple deep into his cheek, “Not like weirdly “a lot”, like the normal amount of thinking you can do about a person, you know?” She fumbled on her words.

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” He assured with an amused smile. His smile widened even more so when a thought about her getting herself off to him crossed her mind. He had to look away because he didn’t care who was around, with a snap of his fingers he would open up a portal and take here somewhere secluded and do whatever she wanted him to do to her.

“Y-you do?” She asked and he nodded.

“Yeah.”

“Oh, OK.” She smiled nervously and he chuckled. He forgot what humans were like in this capacity. They were skittish and played coy, despite the perverse and obscene things that went on in their minds. It was adorable.

“Are you doing anything right now?” He asked and she bit her lip as she shook her head, “Would you like to join me for breakfast?” He asked his next question.

“I’d love to, but you look like you’re busy today.” She explained with a shake of her head. She was nervous, it was coming off of her in tsunami-like waves.

“That can wait.” He said nonchalantly with a smile. Yeah, he did have something planned, but finding her was more important. It was the reason he had temporarily relocated to this hellish, suburban town.

“I would hate to impose-”

“Didn’t you just say you’ve been thinking of me. A lot? But not weirdly a lot.” He asked with a smirk and she giggled nervously.

“I uh-I believe I did say that.” She admitted.

“Well then?” He asked, “Unless you’re busy.”

“I’m not. I’m just in shock is all. I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” She explained, speaking her thoughts without really thinking and then she scrunched her face up in embarrassment as she winced a bit. “Just ignore me. My brain’s all out of whack today.” She tagged on quickly and he grinned. If this was her just nervous to see him he couldn’t wait to see the state of her after he’d had his way with her. Her brain would be mush and she’d only be thinking about sex, cock, and him until the day she died.

“I think I make you a little nervous.” He decided to say, there was confidence laced into his words and it made her knees weak.

“I’m not nervous.” She fibbed, but he decided not to challenge her on this.

“Oh, my mistake. I just assumed because you make me a little nervous.” He confessed and she looked surprised at his candor.

“I make you nervous?” She asked and he shrugged with a smile.

She certainly did. If only she knew that she had an all powerful god frazzled and fumbling and questioning all of his morals and ethics and the sanctity of his marriage. At this moment Y/N was the most powerful woman in the universe and she didn’t even know it. To her, this man was a perfect stranger, but he had saved her and he hadn’t even sought a form of repayment for his good deed. She considered it stupid and maybe others would find her naive and idiotic but she trusted him.

“Ummm, let’s do it.” She decided and his smile just lit up his face and persuaded her own smile to shine through.

“Perfect. Did you want your coffee from here?”

“It’s alright I can get it from wherever we go.” she assured.

“I don’t know the area too well yet, is there any place you prefer?”

“Ummm, yeah I do. It’s just down the street if you want to walk?” She asked and he nodded. They were both a bit more quite as they walked down the sidewalk and to the restaurant, but it was mainly because they were both trying to organize all of the questions in their heads.

The restaurant was on the smaller side, quaint, and mostly filled with older folks. They all looked happy to be here though and well they were all thinking good things. It almost felt like they were in a different world in here. There was older music playing over the speakers and the smell of coffee and pastries and other kinds of foods wafted about the space. They were tucked into a booth near the back, the sun was still coming through the roll-up blinds though and lighting their space up nicely.

“This is a hidden gem. There’s no waitlist or drunk girls puking up their mimosas and French toast in the bathrooms…” she mused and he chuckled, “I’ve tried nearly everything on the menu, it’s delicious and tastes like a home-cooked meal.” She assured and he nodded.

He never really understood what humans meant by that. Being a god, everything that he ate tasted amazing, whether it actually was good or not. But he could only assume it had a lot to do with comfort and familiarity rather than quality, which was interesting to him. That seemed to be a common thread that weaved through many aspects of humankind. Even in harder or unpleasant situations, humans would choose familiarity over quality, over everything that was clearly better for them. That’s why they suffered so much, it was hard for them to let go and that infuriated him for the most part. But not when it came to her, she could do no wrong. He liked her nostalgia and he wanted to make her feel happy and safe and comfortable.

“Well I’ll have whatever you’re having.” He said and she smiled.

“OK.”

They were sat around for a couple more moments before Y/N ordered for them and the lady headed off to put in their orders.

“So, you said you’re still new here.” She brought up.

“Ummm yes, I came on business two months ago, when we ran into each other and I’ve been relocated here for work for a few months. I’m in industrial and structural development.” He explained and Y/N nodded in understanding.

“Oh, nice.” She said and he nodded.

“What do you do?”

“I’m a teacher, 3rd grade.” She shared.

“Oh that’s nice. I can picture you doing that. It matches your vibe.” He said and she smiled.

“I hope that’s a good thing?”

“Yeah, you seem like a very caring and nurturing person.” He explained and she smiled.

“Oh, ummm thank you.”

“Yeah, of course.” He smiled, “So what ummm, ended up happening with that guy?” He asked and she rolled her eyes.

“I confronted him about it. Told him I saw what he did, which was a little fib, but eh. He freaked out and cried because he was scared I would call the cops on him.”

“Did you?”

“No, I threatened to if I ever found out he did anything like that ever again.” She said and he nodded.

“What a prick.”

“Yeah, he kinda was.” She said.

“So you’re single?” He asked and she bit her lip and nodded.

“Yep.”

“Well that’s good news.” He smiled.

“Yep.” She said again nervously and he chuckled.

“What’s wrong?” He asked and she shrugged.

“I don’t know, I’m just trying to figure you out I guess.” She explained.

“OK, what’re you trying to figure out?”

“Just your vibe. Like you’re humble but you also give off this confidence like you own the world and I’m trying to understand how you can have both.” She explained and he smiled.

“Unfortunately for you, that’s a question you can’t know the answer to. But ummm, it’s not an act if that…helps satiate your curiosity.” He said and she tried to hold back her smile, but it was hard to.

The only thing she wanted satiated was her need for him. In a way having him right before her was doing enough for her because for a while there she considered that she had imagined him. That maybe she had ingested a tiny bit of the drugged up drink and hallucinated this adonis of a man who helped her escape a very dangerous situation. But he wasn’t a hallucination or a figment of her imagination, he was right here, right in front of her and there was nothing she wanted more than to just stare at him until her eyes dried out and every detail of him was engraved in her mind. Well, if he couldn’t answer that question she would ask another questions.

“Well are you…single?” She asked and he raised his left hand to show her his fingers devoid of any rings and she smirked.

“That doesn’t mean you’re single.” She said and he chuckled.

“Oh, right!” He chuckled, “S’different here.” He mumbled lowly which confused Y/N a bit, “But yeah, I’m single.” He assured and she smiled and nodded.

She was a literal angel. Everything about her had him wanting more and he loved the feeling of the chase as well. He wanted to tell her all of his secrets, he wanted her to know that she was so perfectly divine that even a god had fallen victim to her charm. Even after they left they continued talking as they strolled through the downtown area. They both wanted the same thing but were a bit hesitant to come out and say it. Especially Y/N, she was nervous to just jump into something physical with him after just properly meeting him, but the attraction she felt was palpable around her. He decided he would make this easy on her and decide for the both of them.

“Well, I really should be getting back to business, but I’m really glad we ran into each other again, Y/N.” He said with a kind and friendly smile.

“Ummm, yeah me too, Harry.” She responded and then bit her lip nervously for a moment, “W-would you like to do something with me tomorrow night?” She asked before she could chicken out and he smiled. He was about to extend an invitation.

“I was just about to ask the same thing.” He chuckled and she did as well, “What did you have in mind?” He asked.

“You first.” She said and he smiled.

“Alright, well I was just going to suggest dinner.”

“Oh, me too. Well at my place, but we don’t have to do that if you don’t want! We can go somewhere too.”

“That’s alright, sounds like a good time.” He said and she smiled.

“Sounds good. Ummm, let me give you my number.” She said and he panicked for a moment.

“I uh, I don’t have a cellphone. Actually.” He explained and her eyes narrowed a bit.

“Oh?”

“Just… addiction to technology and lack of social interaction really peeves me off. I do have a landline at my place though and well email.” He said and she smiled.

“Well that works too! Do you have a pen?” She asked and he nodded and pulled one out of his jacket pocket and handed it over to her. He was a bit shocked when she grabbed his hand and splayed out his palm, “Sorry if it tickles.” She said quietly as the pen glided across his palm with her guidance and formed the digits of her phone number, “There you are.” She said as she pulled back and he looked down at his hand and then smiled up at her.

“Thanks. I shouldn’t be too busy tomorrow, but I’ll call around lunch and we can decide on a time?”

“Perfect. Can’t wait.” She said softly and smiled.

“Me either.” He assured and they waved before they went their separate ways.

*********

All day Y/N could not stop thinking about Harry. About his beautiful smile and bright eyes, his manners and his way of being. He reminded her of those perfect gentlemen from those movies from the 30’s and 40’s, but at the same time she could sense a cheekier side to him that she wanted to discover. He made her feel like she’d never had a crush before - it was almost obsessive and she felt juvenile and out of control, it was amazing.

Y/N was literally counting down the hours until they would meet again. She wanted to impress him, make something delicious and special. She also wanted to be delicious and special for him and so upon deciding what she would be cooking she went to the grocery store and on top of the ingredients to their dinner, she purchased three bottles of concentrated pineapple juice and several packs of pineapple spears; she was sure she didn’t need that much but she just knew that she wanted to be good for him in every way.

**********

In the same manner Harry was obsessing over how he would shift the mood into a sexual one. He wanted her, badly. He even sent word to Persephone, just to let her know that he had decided to take a lover, as he suspected, she didn’t mind it. But telling her made it real and as he laid in bed alone with an insane boner raging in his pants he thought about all the things he wanted to do to her and the more and more he thought about it the more he came to the conclusion that he wanted to completely consume her, he wanted to ruin her for any mere mortal who had the chance to see her in that way. He wanted to be at the forefront of her mind every time she got wet, every time she touched herself, every time that she looked at a man or woman or any other being that made lust brew inside of her.

He needed to come. The ache he felt was unmatched but he didn’t want to waste his sperm on a wank. He wanted to save all he could for her. He wanted her to taste it and to paint her skin with it and to fuck it into her until she couldn’t take anymore. He had to be patient.

*********

Y/N had done herself up a bit, not in a way that it made it too obvious, but just enough to hint that this was a special occasion. And when her doorbell rang she started to get antsy as she fluttered around her condo trying to catch any final details that needed her attention on her way to the front door. She took a deep breath before she unlocked the door and opened it up to reveal Harry holding a bottle of wine, looking handsome as ever in a gorgeous deep blue suit, he was wearing a light gray, silk shirt underneath that he might as well should’ve left unbuttoned. Her thoughts immediately shifted from joy to lust. She felt her mouth pool with saliva at the grin he was wearing to greet her. His mouth was moving but she didn’t register anything that he’d just said.

“Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me.” Were the only thoughts Harry could hear from her mind, they were being screamed so loudly. He couldn’t help but grin smugly as her mind literally blanked of everything but lust. He could feel the shift of her mood and her energy. His was in a similar state. He might be the all-powerful being in this situation, but she had him at her mercy and there was absolutely nothing she could ask for that he wouldn’t grant to her. Hades’ was a lot of things, but his devotion and determinedness were so uniquely his that when he set his mind to something absolutely nothing could ever stop him. It was the reason he was cast down into the underworld all by himself. He was obsessive and passionate when he set his sights on something he deemed worthwhile and right now that was her. So he just reached forward and put a hand on her waist and pressed her inside before kicking the door closed behind him and turning the deadbolt with his mind. She was too enraptured in him to noticed that though. Their eyes were locked on each others, they were communicating silently, instinctually - he could enter her mind if he chose, let her know that he was listening - but he didn’t want to freak her out.

“Should we skip to the good part?” He asked quietly and she bit her lip and nodded with dark eyes and he just set the bottle of wine down on the nearest surface before taking her face in his hands and kissing her deeply and hungrily. He hadn’t had a human in ages and he was glad she was his first in that long. Her mouth was warm and sweet and so fucking lush - her body wreaked of desire, it was making him go mad as they bumped into a wall hard as they got lost in their kiss. The experience was overwhelming for him, it was almost a sensory overload. He could hear her filthy thoughts and the blood pumping hard through her veins and feel her want emanating from her, he could sense the shift in her energy. “You’re so fucking perfect, you know that?” He mumbled against her lips. “I’ve never wanted anything more.” His words made her melt in his arms.

“You can have me.” She panted and he groaned.

“Where’s your bedroom?” He asked and she looked into his eyes and kissed him once more before taking his hand and dragging him through her home and into her bedroom. She had plugged in her candle warmers and so her room was glowing nicely and it smelled delicious, not as delicious as her, but the detail wasn’t missed by him. He smiled at the tidy and relaxing vibe in her bedroom, she had big windows facing the west, though they were closed now. And her bed was big, which was perfect.

“This is it.” She said quietly before turning to him and he smiled at her.

“It’s lovely. I like it.” He complimented and she smiled.

“Thank you.” She hummed.

“Your bed’s really big for such a small person.” He said and she giggled.

“Thanks, it’s also very comfortable.” She grinned and he smirked.

“Good. So what should I do to you on it first?” He asked as he took off his jacket and she bit her lip. The first thing that popped into her mind was getting eaten out, no one had gone down on her and actually made her come from it in a while, she hoped he’d be good, “Should I… start with my mouth?” He asked and she swallowed thickly. It was almost like he was reading her mind and she nodded, “Yeah?” He asked with a grin. She felt so small as he stepped right up to her and she looked up at him and nodded, “Use your words, angel.” He said softly as he started to unbutton the few buttons he had done up on his shirt and she shivered.

“Yes, please.” She said and he hummed.

“Please what?” He asked as he let his shirt fall to the floor. Her eyes raked up and down his perfect and enviable physique with lust.

“Please lick my pussy.” She got out and he smirked as he grabbed the back of her neck and kissed her again. Without another word he started to undress her. First he threw off her top and reared back a bit to admire the shape of her breasts sitting in the flimsy and sheer bra she had on. Her nipples were straining against the mesh and it made his mouth water. He wanted to suck them sensitive, they were so pretty. His large hand slid down her spine until he reached the clasp of it and he pinched the two bands together, causing them to unhook. She helped get it off of her body and he smiled as he watched her breasts now free of the material he looked into her eyes as he brought his hands up to touch them, he touched everywhere but her nipples and it was making her impatient.

She felt herself throbbing in her pants and with any squeeze or clenching of her thighs she could feel the delicious and slippery glide of her labia drenched in her arousal. She was on edge as he teased her. When his hands slid down to her waist he turned her around and sat on her bed, pulling her onto his lap. This is it. She thought to herself as he kissed down her neck, his soft and wet lips sponged down her throat, her skin burned in the wake of his kisses. She wanted to wear his mark on her skin and he heard this thought loud and clear and he dipped down further and sucked the top of her breast between his lips.

“Mmm….” She whimpered quietly as he started to suck harder. Her fingers tangled into the back of his hair as he marked her skin, sucking up the blood to the surface and popping off to inspect the love bite he left on her. After seeing the one it’s like he became obsessed and started nibbling and sucking more marks into her breasts. Harry could feel her clenching her pussy in time with the harsh sucks he was giving and it’s was getting her so close to coming undone, that had never happened to her before. He kissed her sternum and then glanced up into her eyes.

“Have you ever come like this?” He asked, yet again, basically reading her mind.

“No.” She exhaled.

“Do you want me to try to make you come like this?” He asked and she bit her lip and nodded quickly. Harry smirked at her urgency. Her nipples were so hard they were a bit sore and that was exactly where he wanted her. Harry squeezed her right breast and he glanced up into her eyes as he let his tongue roll out of his mouth. The sheer anticipation made her entire body tremble, he then licked around her areola and she huffed quietly in some disappointment, but his warm breath still fanned over her nipple just enough to keep her encouraged that he’d soon get there. He did the same to her other breast before he gave her a few squeezes, minding to slot her nipples between his fingers to exclude them from his actions.

“Harry, please.” She keened desperately. He grinned and bit down on his lip as he looked at the intense desperation in her eyes, “Please.”

“I’ll get there, angel.” He assured and she huffed softly with so much impatience. She literal felt like she was going to explode. He grabbed her from her bum and turned them over so that she dropped onto her bed. Once again, he kissed down her sternum and her stomach as his hands started to undo her pants. He swiftly got them down her legs, not taking her underwear off just yet, but he didn’t miss the wet spot on the crotch of her baby pink panties. He straddled her and the weight of his body was so comforting she let her eyes close. Harry let his hands run up her stomach and then one of his hands slid up the valley of her breasts, stopping just below her throat and without any warning he raked his blunt nails from there all the way down to the edge of her panties. Y/N gasped and her back arched up at the new feeling, her skin was littered in goosebumps and he grinned smugly at her reaction. Harry decided to just make her come already and so he cupped her breasts again and very lightly traced his thumbs over her nipples and she moaned softly as her eyes met his.

“Feels good, angel?” He asked and she nodded quickly, “And if I…” he trailed off and then flicked at both of the little buds simultaneously and she gasped at the slight shock that shot through her body, but her mind was screaming for more. He smiled at her reaction to this. Harry loved mixing pain with pleasure, there was a fine line to tread when it came to the pain kink and he was very confident in his ability to give anyone a pain kink. The lengths that the brain would go to, to ensure that a person derived pleasure from something was incredible. He smirked and then did it again and as the slight pain radiated through her body he then pinched her nipples and she cried out in pain and shock. Her hands came up and grabbed his wrists, he loved the sensation of her nails digging into his skin.

“It hurts!” She whimpered.

“You can take it. Clench your little pussy, tighten up for me and then let go.” He said squeezing a bit more and she hissed. He felt her legs tense up beneath his body and he bit his lip as she squirmed a bit more before she moaned in pleasure and he felt his cock twitch as she gave in to the sensation, “That’s a good girl.” He hummed and then let go and she let go of his wrists and looked into his eyes. Hers were all glassy and pretty as they stared into his own. “Ready?” He asked and she nodded with her lip bitten between her teeth and as soon as she felt him pinch she clenched up her walls again and the pleasure came faster. She moaned again, louder this time as he twisted a bit. She started squirming and bucking her hips a bit as the pleasure started to bubble up beautifully inside of her.

“I-i’m so close!” She cried out and he smiled as he let go and she whined softly in displeasure as the feeling of her impending orgasm fizzled out slowly. He edged her this way a few more times until her nipples were so achey and sensitive and her pussy so sloppy and slick that even moving her legs made her breathing catch in her throat. She was trembling and squirming under his weight and that’s exactly how he wanted her. “Please, please, please, I need t’come.” She whimpered and he hummed smugly.

“Yeah? Want me to make you come, angel?” He asked and she nodded, “Been so good, think I will.” He said and she sighed I relief. He leaned down and pressed his lips to her warm, plump, and bitten lips. He pecked her a few times, the little smooching sounds of their lips meeting were driving her wild. She whimpered when he moved down her jaw, and then her neck, sucking his mark into her skin. He then licked down the column on her throat and then down her left breast and around her areola before he flicked his tongue back and forth over her nipple. She whimpered out in pleasure at the sensation of his tongue against her before he sucked it into his mouth, “Play with the other one and tighten up that pussy.” He mumble before he got back to it. His sucks went from light to heavy. The smooth texture of his tongue had her toes curling and her back arching. He then popped off and moved to the other one and she gasped. Her thighs were squeezing his hips and her stomach was tightening as that familiar sensation of an orgasm started growing, she was amazed that her pussy started contracting and the butterflies in her stomach started erupting in her tummy and her back started to arch to get more of her in his mouth. She wove her fingers into his hair again and gasped when he bit down on her nipple before sucking harder until she was shuddering and withering beneath his body with soft cries of overstimulation from her nipples. She was tense as Harry’s sucks softened and then his licks became light and feathery. He pressed a gentle kiss to one nipple and then the next before he kissed his way back up to her mouth.

“That was….” She paused as he kissed her deep, “So good. Wow.” She finished as he pulled back. He smiled as he nudged his nose with hers playfully and she bit her lip as their eyes met.

“You haven’t seen the half of it.” He hummed haughtily and she grinned with excitement. Harry proceeded to grab her around her waist and dragged them up so that she could be propped up on the pillows, he wanted her to watch him eat her pussy. He had been dying to get a taste, he could smell her arousal, and he just wanted to bury his face in her and taste her and lick her to his heart’s content. “Want you to watch.” He said against her ear and her skin broke out in goosebumps once again. His lips kissed down her jaw and down her neck and her chest, making her wince as he gave her nipples a few teasing sucks before spreading her legs, that were bent at the knees. He started to lower himself as he kissed each of her knees. He then tugged at her panties and she lifted her bum a bit to help him get them off and then he extended her legs over his shoulder to slide them off of her. He didn’t need to ask her to drop her legs open for him and show him her shimmering and swollen little cunt.

“Such a pretty little thing.” He hummed before licking over his lips. “You’re so fucking wet for me.” He hummed in excitement as he got down on his stomach to get a closer look. He did want to tease her, but his need to just get a taste was far greater. He had shown his restraint already, he could indulge in her now…he did want to make her come as many times as he possibly could.

Her little pussy was throbbing and her clit was all swollen. He wanted to roll his tongue all over it and suck on it until she was coming on his tongue. He decided that teasing could go to hell and he spread her open with his fingers and groaned as he laid his tongue flat over her and licked her right up. She exhaled shakily and reached into his hair to steady herself. She was so sweet and soft against his mouth. Harry moaned as he pressed open mouthed kisses from the top of her labia to her entrance, then going back to her clit and kissing her there over and over again until she was squirming. His tongue then laved at her whole, over and over again, from top to bottom, taking time to slow his licks down when he’d get to her clit. He’d swirl his tongue around and flick it against her sensitive little bud. And god, the sounds of him licking her up were ostentatious. Y/N’s breath was hitching in her throat as his actions made spikes of pleasure shoot through her entire body until her eyes were squeezing shut and she was calling out his name. She came quickly, grinding her hips against his face to maximize the sensation and stimulation to her throbbing cunt. She was whining softly as he seemingly cleaned her up a bit.

“Oh fuuuuck!” She mewled when she felt two of his fingers sink inside of her in one go. Harry moaned at how hot and tight her little cunt was. Her walls where pulsing around him every now and again from the orgasms that had just passed and all he could envision was his cock sinking into her. She shot up to look at his actions as he hooked his fingers up and pressed them against the deepest most tender spot inside of her as his tongue swirled around her sensitive clit, “Mmmm what’re you doing to me?” she questioned as she shivered with pleasure.

“Making this pussy mine.” He hummed against her and she immediately started to come undone again. He picked up the speed of his fingers inside of her and increased the force.

“Oh fuck! Oh fuck!” She gasped quietly, her voice cracking due to the pitch of it. And he moaned against her as he felt her start to squirt. Her head fell back into the pillows as her legs started to tremble, her stomach was tightening up as her pussy contracted uncontrollably. It felt that all the blood in her body had rushed to her head and all of the sounds in the world were muffled as this orgasm wiped her out. And just when she thought he was done he’d pick up again and get a little more out of her.

“Mmmm, taste so fucking good, angel.” He praised her and she was just spent. He sucked his fingers clean when he drew them out of her and then kissed her mouth, “So sweet, aren’t you? ”

“M-hmm.” She nodded still in a daze.

“Go on then, clean off my tongue, angel.” He said and she grabbed his face and held him still as she sucked what she could off his tongue. She’d never even considered doing something like that, but there was a first for everything and she loved it. “Get on all fours.” He said after she pulled away and she obliged. Harry kneaded her ass with his hands before giving her two big, hard swats, one on each cheek, she recoiled and groaned into the mattress. Before she even knew it his palm slapped against her sopping and hypersensitive pussy and she whined out and quickly brought her thighs together. She heard him chuckle and it made her pout, “Open up, angel. Let me see your pussy.” He said and she hesitantly parted her legs again and she cried out when he slapped her hard again, but this time he smoothed over it to ease the sting. When his tongue came back she felt relieved. And soon he started rubbing at her clit while he worked his way up to her little bum hole.

“Mmmm, more.” She whimpered as he gently pushed his tongue into the much tighter entrance and he groaned.

“Yeah, I’ll give you more.” He mumbled as he sunk a finger back into her pussy. He twisted it around a couple times to really slick it up and then he dragged it up to her ass. “Please put it in.” She begged and he kissed her right cheek before adding more pressure to get it in.

“Relax, gotta relax f’me.” He reminded and she let out a slow breath before he tried again. She whimpered at the very snug fit and slight burn as he pushed it in deeper. Her wince faded and a quiet moan slipped from her mouth when he was in all the way. Harry then collected his saliva into his mouth and spit it against her little asshole before he got his mouth back on her cunt. His tongue was licking and thrusting right against her entrance, all of the little nerve endings there were alight and sending pleasure signals up to her brain. She could feel another orgasm approaching quickly. Her sound sound soft pleasure got a bit louder as the stimulation continued until her arms lost their strength. She was gasping limited air as her face was in the bed covers and it was making her orgasm more intense as it started to overcome her. Harry’s groans into her pussy felt like they were vibrating into her soul. Her cries were broken and feeble by now and she didn’t know if she could even take his cock for a while, but she did want to. When he finally drew away her legs also collapsed and Harry hummed in satisfaction before kissing up her spine as she caught her breath. “Did so well, angel.” He whispered quietly and she hummed as she turned her head slightly to the side so he could see her face as she offered him a tired smile.

“I’m so spent and you haven’t even gotten off.” She pointed out and he grinned.

“Don’t worry, I will.” He assured and she sniggered tiredly.

“When? Tomorrow? Because I don’t think I can handle any more tonight.” She said with some regret and he bit his lip as he laid down beside her and she laid on her side to face him. She smiled as he tucked her hair behind her ear as he watched her face for a few seconds.

“I want to tell you a secret.” He said and she hummed, encouraging him to go on, “I’m just…worried you’ll freak out.” He said as he started to caress her cheekbone with his knuckles.

“Well I might depending what it is.” She said and he smiled.

“Is it bad?” She asked worriedly and he sighed.

“I guess that depends more on how you feel about it.” He said and she looked into his eyes to try and decide if she wanted to risk this time being over after he ruined it with his secret, if she could just live without knowing, or if she could pretend not to let this secret do anything about this now and she could decide how she felt about it later, if that was possible. And as she searched his eyes she didn’t see a trace of malice or wrong or anything bad. She just saw green and sincerity and calm and humility. She did trust him after all.

“Ummm, OK, tell me.” She decided and then bit down on her lip nervously as she waited for him to say it.

“OK.” He said and then exhaled, “I’m not…human.” He started and her eyes narrowed in confusion, “I mean, I am right now, but I’m actually the god of the underworld, H-hades.” He said and she immediately pushed herself up to sit as her wide eyes took him in. She then grabbed a pillow to cover her body with as she observed him.

“Are you on drugs?” She asked and he chuckled as he sat up too and shook his head.

“No, they don’t…work on me, unfortunately.” He said and she frowned, “But I am telling you the truth. I can prove it.” He said and she bit her lip pensively for a moment.

“OK then.” She said quietly, her heart was racing now.

“You said you’re too spent to have sex but you really want to, right?” He asked, “Well, now you’re a bit hesitant but, that’s what you were thinking earlier.” She nodded in confirmation, “Can I show you something? I promise I won’t hurt you or do anything you don’t want, I just want to show you.” He said and she was filled with hesitation but nodded anyway, “OK, look into my eyes.” He said and she did.

“Wait, you’re not gonna turn me into stone are you because that would suck.” She said and he chuckled.

“No, angel. That’s not really in my skillset.” He assured and she smiled slightly. ‘Good, her walls are coming back down.’ He thought to himself. When they finally made eye contact again for a few moments she suddenly felt like she was stuck in her head. All floaty and weird, he was getting closer…wait, she was getting closer to him. Her body was acting without her permission. She was climbing onto him and trying to kiss him as he held her back.

“What the fuck is going on?!” She shouted, but she was just hearing it in her head, almost as if she were outside of her body. She was reaching for his pants, but then suddenly she snapped back out of it and he was holding her arms just above his erection. “What was that?” She asked panting heavily, still a bit freaked out at how that felt.

“I can control you. I can make you do or say anything I want. That’s typically how the other gods sleep with humans.” He said and her brows creased in understanding.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, so…they enchant them, so their body is doing everything that they want, but the person is just trapped in their head not able to do or say what they feel or want, we can still hear their thoughts in that state, but ummm, most don’t care. They just get used. Some people are aware of it, some aren’t. And it doesn’t just work with sex, it’s anything I would want.”

“Have you done that before to someone? F-for sex?”

“No. And I’ve actually…ummm, I haven’t really had any sexual relationship with anyone since Persephone, my wife.” He said and she suddenly smiled.

“So you’re not single, you liar.” She teased and he chuckled.

“Yeah, m’sorry. She knows though and like we can take lovers whenever we want I’ve just never wanted to until…well, until I saw you a few months ago.” He explained and her heart softened for him.

“I mean, that’s sweet and all, but aren’t you like the antagonist of the world?” She asked and he scoffed.

“Do I seem like the antagonist of the world?” He asked and she giggled.

“Guess not.” She said and he smiled.

“I just…don’t like people abusing power, my brothers and some of the other deities they do that. I always opposed that so to get me off their backs they literally banished me to the underworld to run that work how I saw fit for eternity and ummm, yeah.” He said pretty causally and she shook her head.

“Those dicks.”

“Yeah, they are dicks.” He said with a grin and she giggled. “And well, that’s the secret. And I understand if you don’t want to see me again or have further relations with me, but I just wanted you to know that because you deserve to know.” He explained and she licked over her lips.

“I still stand by what I said earlier, I am spent but…w-what if you did that again to me? Control me? Use me? Make me.” She said quietly and he bit his lip at the thought, “You can hear my thoughts so if I want to stop you stop or if I just want you to pull me out of it you can. I trust you.” She said and he looked at her skeptically.

“Are you sure?” He asked.

“Yeah. I mean, haven’t you ever just wanted to take something without asking?”

“This is different.”

“I know, but I want it, really badly. And you said so yourself earlier, I can take it, I’m just too tired right now.” She explained, “I mean, I’m only human.” She said with a smirk and he shook his head as he chuckled quietly.

“I saw that coming from a mile off. You know that right?” He asked and she shrugged, “Fine.” He said and she smiled. She knelt up to properly look into his eyes and in moments she once again felt like she was outside of herself. Like her thoughts and actions weren’t her own as she started to take off his trousers and briefs. As soon as his rock hard erection sprang up her mouth was over him. He tasted so fucking good and she was obsessed with the weight of him on her tongue. Knowing that he was minding her thoughts she thought about how she wanted more, she wanted him deeper. “Yeah? You want more my filthy little whore?” He asked as he thrust his hips hard into her mouth until her nose was up against his neat little bed of pubic hair. Her eyes were blurry with tears and her throat was burning, but it felt so good to have him fucking her mouth like this.

“Make me play with your balls” she thought and in seconds her hand was coming down between his legs to fondle him. They were full and swollen and heavy and she was dying to taste everything he’d pump out of them for her.

“Fuck, you’re thinking such filthy things, angel. You’re gonna make me come.” He grunted as he sunk into her throat and she gagged around him and her eyes squeezed shut, “Fuck.” He moaned as he started to shoot his warm load into her mouth. She was in heaven as she squeezed at his balls as he emptied himself into her mouth. He was commanding her to swallow, but she could feel some spilling out of the sides of her mouth. She felt like she was drowning as he held himself inside for a bit more after he finished and then he slipped out. She was gasping for air and coughing hard as she was able to breathe properly. Some part of him liked to see her like that, so helpless but willing to be used by him however he pleased.

She noticed that he was still hard and she wondered what that was about, especially after he had come so much.

“I’m not human, remember?” He said, “I can whenever I want for as long as I want.” He said and then chuckled when he perceived her follow up thought, “Yeah, angel you should’ve been more inquisitive before you allowed me to control you.” He said with a smirk and then pulled her up to kiss her. He was obsessed with the feeling of her bare, warm body pressing against his own. He just knew that this one time would never be enough, he’d need her again and soon. He broke their kiss after a few moments and smiled at her as she started to turn away from him. His muscular chest was against her back she could feel his cock against her ass. He was gently rutting his hips into her as he considered being nice and stretching her out with his fingers or just taking what he wanted, as she had said before. He bit his lip when he made up his mind and he spread her legs a bit wider with his own, “Remember that I can stop if you want me to.” He said as grabbed his cock and positioned it between her legs. All of her thoughts were screaming for him to get inside, “Don’t worry I will, angel. S’gonna hurt a bit, OK.” He warned as he pressed against her entrance with some force until his head started to sink in, he stopped for a few second and then he grinned before he just slammed in the rest of the way without any warning. Y/N gasped at the sudden intense intrusion, it did hurt as he felt a lot bigger than what he seemed to be. His hands came down to her wrists and held them behind her back as she moaned loudly, her cries a harmonious mix of pain and pleasure. His thrusts were hard and sharp, she could feel him ramming into her cervix, “I know, angel, I know.” He acknowledged her thoughts and sounds of discomfort, “But it’s gonna feel good real soon.” He assured.

The wet, squelching sounds of his cock ramming into her pussy were pornographic. She was teetering on the edge of insanity with how deep he was giving it to her. She could only cry out every time his cock collided with her cervix but it was stimulating something inside of her that had her throbbing around him; she was going to come whether she wanted to or not. His heavy balls were thwacking hard against her ass, giving Harry the perfect little inkling of hurt he needed for his pleasure to start to peak.

“Let’s see how many loads your pretty little cunt can take.” He groaned before he stilled deep inside of her and she gasped as he held himself deep inside. Her eyes crossed and her vision went blurry as she felt his cock twitching hard inside of her. His own orgasm catalyzed her own and she could feel het body tensing and her hips grinding back against him as she came undone yet again. She could feel how spent she was, but despite that she kept thrusting herself back against him, “Looks like you want more.” He said as he released her her arms from behind her back and pushed her down on all fours. He started ramming hard into her, her legs started to slip and soon he had to hold around her hips to keep her ass lifted enough for him to keep fucking her. Her fingers were clawed into the bed covers, trying to have anything to hold on to, “You’re gonna come again for me.” He strained out as his powerful thrusts continued rocking her whole body a few centimeters up the bed with each thrust. Y/N’s abs were sore from how much they’d been contracting with each orgasm and this one was about to add more to that. “Oh fuck, such a tight little pussy, come for me. Come for me, angel.” he encouraged her and groaned as she started to slick up his cock with her come again. He smiled as he watched his cock gliding in and out of her creamy and swollen pussy before he rutted shallowly a few times and then sunk in a little deeper to make sure his sperm stayed inside when he came again, “Fuck, take my cum. Take all of it, angel.” He panted as his thrusts grew sloppy and finally he started to come to a slow, “Fuck, let’s see how you’re doing.” He hummed tiredly as he caught his breath. She hissed as he pulled out of her and then spread her cheeks a bit to see the state of her pussy. He could see his cum to the brim and he tutted,

“Tsk, just two load and you’re basically full?” He teased her, “I’ve got so much more for you.” He said as he kissed her bare shoulder and through all the noise going on in his and her brain he heard her calling out to him. So he pulled her out of it and she slowly rolled herself onto her back looking absolutely wrecked and spent. “Are you OK?” He asked quietly and she nodded.

“Yeah, I just want one more, but not like that.” She explained and he frowned.

“Are you sure you’re up for it?” He asked and she nodded.

“Yes, I wan it. I want you.” She insisted and he smiled.

“Then we’ll go slow, yeah?” He asked and she smiled and nodded.

He brought his body down over hers and then let their lips meet languidly. His kisses were passionate yet delicate and she was obsessed with the way he made her feel about everything. Despite the soreness in her legs she parted them and bent them to let him fit his body in between hers. She moaned as he ground himself against her center, her sensitive clit was being kissed by the leaking tip of his cock and it was making her desperate for more. Her foot ran up and his his leg as her hands felt at his arms, trying to memorize every possible detail of him just in case. “Hey,” he said gently, calling her out of her frenzy, “This isn’t the last time if you don’t want it to be.” He informed her and her big, glossy eyes met his and there was only one thing in them, relief.

“Really?”

“Yeah, angel. I couldn’t stay away from you for long.” He said and she smiled. He lowered his body even more to shift himself to be at her entrance, now their faces were directly aligned and as he sunk into her she kept her eyes on his and he kept his eyes on hers too. Her mouth dropped open as he exhaled shakily at the feeling. This was much more intimate and intense, so as he started to thrust she shivered in his hold, they held eye contact for as long as possible until he just had to bury his face in her neck and breathe in her scent, “You’re perfection incarnate.” He mumbled as he kissed at her bruised skin, “I will worship and please your body for ever and ever and ever.” He panted and she moaned at his words, “I’ll commemorate your delicate, divine, feminine form in the cosmos. The entire universe will get to see the woman that brought a god to his knees.” He said and her back arched as his words started to spur on her orgasm.

“I-I’m gonna come!” She whimpered and he groaned.

“Fuck, please come for me. Let me feel how good our bodies love on each other.” He said breathily. Her nails raked down his back as the pleasure just exploded from so deep inside of her that she started to see white. Her ears were ringing and her heart was racing and it felt like she was floating away. “Fuck, oh fuck, oh fuuuuck…” he chanted as he started to thrust in deep and hard with every rope of cum that he shot deep into her. Their shaky and ragged breaths didn’t stop their mouths from smearing together desperately. She was clinging to him like he was the only thing tethering her to reality. Every molecule in her body was completely and undeniably his now. They let the physical and emotional highs dwindle on their own, he had no rush or place to be, just here with her.

After nearly twenty minutes of laying around he went to warm up the delicious food she had made for them. Her naked body was cradled in his hold as he fed her while he answered her questions about whatever she wanted. He had always been of the belief that there was a single soul for every being and in this moment with her, he started to consider that just maybe he had finally met his actual other half. He drew her a bath as well, which she insisted he join her for and he did so without any hesitation and finally when he got her back into her bed with clean sheets he played with her hair until she had dozed off in his arms. He smiled as he took in her smaller frame nestled comfortably into his side, silently thanking the fates for bringing her into his life.

*********

Let me know what you think! 🙂

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latibvles · 25 days ago

Text

YOU LEFT ME IN THE DARK.

or the “vivbucky make impulsive questionable decisions in the hours before Münster” fic that’s been rotating in my head for a couple months. adults doing consensual things under the cut even if the reasons for said consensual things aren’t the best. check it out here on AO3!

The smell of fuel and blood burns her nose, engines roaring loud in her ears. Heart pounding, blood pumping like it just might burst from her pulse points and drench everything. Her palms are sweaty and the only thing keeping her breathing evenly is necessity. Willie’s whiter than a ghost next to her, bleeding all over everything until Lena gets to her. It’s all loud and fiery and a chunk of burning metal thunks against the wing of the Mouse Hole. If there is a God, then he’s probably the one thing keeping their feathered engines from going up in smoke, blowing them all to smithereens.

If there is a God, she’s got a bone to pick with him.

Her head hurts almost as much as her hand does.

The pub is quieter and devoid of the faces she knows — or rather, cares to know. Which is fine, because she has no will left to be composed and quite frankly doesn’t owe anyone as much. Harding can chastise her about fighting later, if he even would. Which he won’t, so it wasn’t like any of it matters. She couldn’t be worried anymore, now she’s just angry.

Her ears have been ringing for the past twenty-four hours and her knee’s bouncing with all the energy she’s unable to expend.

Viv wants to break something. Or scream, maybe. Theoretically she could get away with it; that’d been the point of heading into town anyway — less eyes, less correspondents waiting for her to fuck up. Sharks waiting to catch that first scent of blood, waiting to finally see her break. It’d be a helluva story.

Shit, they got Buck!

Fucking— Lena get down here. Willie’s hit!

She’s still breathing! Buck— er, Our Baby, how many ‘chutes?!

I don’t see any!

Her hands never shake when she flies and yet they were trembling then. Still trembling now, like she’s some kind of insufferable whistling tea kettle. She thinks her ability to land the plane like that is one of the many wonders of the human condition. She felt nothing when it happened. She doesn’t feel much now, either.

Well, besides being angry, which at this point is a constant thrumming in her system — synonymous with the blood in her veins and oxygen in her lungs. But it’s not especially useful, like blood or air. It’s just enough to ensure they’re still flying the next mission, rain or shine. Harding wanted them to sit the next one out but Viv wouldn’t be able to stand that either. She flies a bus that could do damage and by God does she want to do some serious fucking damage. Her hand tightens on the crystal glass as she raises it to her lips and lets whiskey coat her throat.

She wants to hit something.

She’s already done that, but the itch is still there. An incessant scratch. Not because she should do it, but because she can and because what else is there to do. She didn’t consider herself an instigator but here she is, entire body itching for a fight. Or, more aptly, itching for another one — her knuckles throb with a painful reminder of the nose she’d broken a few blocks down and she doesn’t really remember what was the spark of that. Not that it matters. Her hands are a little bloody and it isn’t enough.

The door opens and shuts. The bar is so quiet that she can hear it loud in her ears, over the roar of engines and the shouting.

Bucky doesn’t greet her like he would’ve before. He just sits beside her — startlingly sharp, similarly miserable, and a whole day early. She can feel his presence like an unshakeable poltergeist latching itself to her person to torment her further. Viv wasn’t the one to tell him Buck went down when he called and she doesn’t think she would’ve had the stomach to anyway. Cowardly. They all ducked out of doing it to avoid whatever state he’d be in upon finding out. Evidently, Viv still draws the shortest straw.

She doesn’t have to look at him to know that sorrow’s already taken its hold of him when she’s been there since yesterday afternoon.

He gets himself a drink and the bartender takes her empty glass. Viv’s knuckles rap against the bartop, lacking a proper rhythm and he takes note of that. Because of course he does. Because in knowing her, Bucky’s made a point to notice everything she does and Viv hates him for it.

His eyes settle then, on her hands. Her fists still sting. Her throat still burns. And she’s still angry enough for her hands to ball further where they rest against the bar top. A little bead of red pearls where she’d split one of her knuckles. Bucky kisses his teeth.

“Looks bad.” He states. There’s no tease there, no chuckle. It’s falling flat and she’s falling with it.

“Should see the other guy.”

“I don’t give a damn about the other guy.” There is no curl of a grin to his lips, no glint to his eye, no flash of teeth accompanying the words. Just his eyes, fixated on her fists with an unreadable expression before he gets his drink.

He doesn’t even sit with it. He shoots it and orders another. There’s an itemized list of all the right things to say but they all sound stupid coming from her mouth, so she opts for silence. It’s not like that’s something they haven’t dealt in before. Very few people would think he could be fluent in silence — but sometimes, Bucky could take the hint that his jokes wouldn’t land. Sometimes he can’t be bothered to make them, so he doesn’t.

If she wasn’t so angry, she’d express some kind of gratitude for that.

The bartender slides her another whiskey too, and she watches condensation slide down the side of the glass — a fat droplet pooling against polished wood.

“You flying tomorrow?” she asks finally, already knowing the answer.

“Does that bother you?” His tone is halfway between sharp and indifferent. Her jaw clenches, she slams back the drink in her hand to keep from saying something crueler than it needs to be.

“If it did, would it matter?” She counters, because it’s slightly kinder than Don’t be an idiot, Bucky. Of course it does. She turns her head to look at him, squinting slightly. Bucky kisses his teeth, says nothing to that, which is as much of an admittance as any that no, it wouldn’t. It’d make her a hypocrite, anyway. Harding’s pulling strings he doesn’t have just to get her in the air tomorrow because she half-begged for it. She’s the last person who needs to be telling anyone else to stand down.

It’d been a mission in and of itself to get Jo to listen, which was a surprise. She would’ve figured spilling hot coffee all over her own uniform would’ve been more of a deterrent.

One hand falls behind her chair, landing on top of the back rest — his thumb pressing into the center of her spine. She can’t tell if it’s deliberate or just Bucky being Bucky; craving contact and burning her in the process. He gets his second drink — or more aptly, a shot — downs it and licks whatever remains from his lips.

“How’s Willie?”

“Dunno. You should ask Brady.” The bitterness there isn’t directed at Brady. It’s not directed at anything, really. Maybe if she nips enough times, he’ll be deterred into leaving her the hell alone before she actually bites at him. Before she says something cruel for the sake of it. Once again, not because she should, but because she could, and she’s angry and has nowhere to put it. It’s not like she’s especially hard-pressed to punch him, not even if he asked that of her.

Bucky’s not deterred though. His thumb drags up her back and she shivers, jaw clenching. Deliberate, then. Goddammit Bucky. She shuts her eyes for a moment, huffing as the tip of his thumb drags back down almost lazily — a direct contrast to the piercing stare he’s fixed on her, unmoving as he tries to peel back the layers. She wants to tell him to fuck off and just worry about himself for once, but even in his current state it’s like self preservation isn’t in his DNA.

She laughs humorlessly at the assessment. Pot, meet Kettle.

The gesture alone makes her feel warm, suffocated, an itch manifesting beneath her skin that she can’t scratch. Or, more aptly, one that she shouldn’t scratch and she isn’t going to indulge. It just ends in knuckles and teeth. They’re a sad sight, the pair of them, scowls on their faces and empty glasses.

His brow raises at her bout of laughter. She tells him as much. We’re a real sad sight.

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

“And what makes you say that?” There’s something about the tone of it that sparks something in her — jaw clenching, an ache behind her temples.

“Why’re you here, Bucky?” Viv snaps, unsure if she means it or not. Even with the bite his hand doesn’t recoil, like it’ll anchor her to the spot. All it does is stoke at the fire in her veins and maybe that’s half the point of it. Make her mad enough to hit him or something like that, give him a bruise for tomorrow, like Curt would. Well she’s not fucking Curt either.

“Same reason you are.” Each word is drawn out in that way that almost sounds sarcastic. She exhales sharply through her nose, nostrils slightly flaring. There’s no tease to the words, no smile tugging at his lips. “Less eyes.”

She can hear the snap of her patience in her ears, like a dingy old rubber band. An irrational one at that — which is why she’s hopping off the barstool before she can do something really stupid in this bar; she doesn’t even know what it is. Her thoughts are a mere streamline of curses, hardly registering how she pushes the door open after leaving some nonsensical amount of money on the table. Fuck you for sitting next to me, John Egan. And fuck you for reading me, too. And fuck Buck Cleven for going down, and Benny Demarco too, for that, and fuck Eisenhower for—

“Viv.” His call of her name is the siren’s song and she’s the idiot sailor who forgot to put wax in his ears — feet stalling once she’s made her way about halfway down the alleyway between the pub and another building.

He’s following her and it serves as an acute reminder that they’re all they’ve got right now.

Bucky’s silhouette is at the end of the alleyway, tall and imposing in the dark as he takes a few steps toward her. She can’t really register what he’s saying to her — feet moving on their own back towards him until they’re toe-to-toe, squinting at him, hands balled into fists. If she asks a question, she knows he’ll answer, but it’ll just piss her off further. No fault of his, just the way Viv’s always been wired and if she could change that, she would, but she can’t.

There’s a lot of things she can’t change. A lot of things she wants to change, too.

“Told you I’d be your bailout when you’re walkin’ home,” Bucky murmurs gruffly, whiskey-breath fanning over her face, warm and strong. The reminder hangs in the air, heavy like the space between them.

If it were possible to have a second snap, she thinks this would be it.

Viv doesn’t know why she leans forward, tilting her chin up to kiss him — it’s hardly even a kiss, just a hard press of her lips against his. She doesn’t know why she does anything about John Egan; he just chips and chips away at her senses until she’s nothing more than some reactive feral creature that can barely keep up with him. She hates him for it. She loves him for it.

She wants to be cut on his jagged edges and let the sting distract her from the anger and how it threatens to swallow her whole, how it threatens to burn him, too.

He stares at her a moment after she does it, blue eyes wide, that loud sorrow giving way to his shock.

“I’m done talking,” Viv breathes out. His jaw clenches, holding her stare.

Finalities weren’t a thing they did.

Bucky’s grabbing at her face with a gruff “c’mere”, rough hands on her cheeks, pulling her to him and slotting their mouths together hungrily. A band snaps between them, she grabs at his arms, squeezing as their lips meld together messily. She’s stumbling, him with her, until her back meets unforgiving bricks and she’s nipping at his bottom lip. His hands fall from her face, to her hips, squeezing as he opens up his mouth for her.

The anger pools in her belly, blurring the line between frustration and desire. He works a muscular thigh between her legs — she rolls her hips against it, taking a trembling breath between kisses. She can feel the hard press of him against her own leg and he grunts, rutting against her thigh. One hand digs into his shoulder, the other moving down to brush against his covered cock — dragging upward until she’s met with the metal of his belt buckle.

Viv breaks their kiss and his breath fans out over her face, thoroughly flushed, twitching beneath her index finger.

“John,” Viv huffs out, with a tight squeeze of his shoulder, the hand then crawling up the back of his neck to work selfishly into his inky dark hair.

She doesn’t know why she says that — John, not Bucky — maybe it’s to grasp at some type of intimacy they won’t get to have. A crumb of what she can’t give him because she’s always been sharp edges and bloodied fists and even now all she knows how to do is bite.

He knows that now, too, and she refuses to let him pierce his stupid bleeding heart on her reckless canines.

“You’re killin’ me here,” he declares with a slight huff — his voice dragging her back to reality. The thigh rubbing against her center, the thrum of desire in her veins.

Her blunt nails scrape against his scalp as he presses his forehead against her own, breaths exchanged as the hand not squeezing her hip finds the button of her pants. He looks down, then back up through dark lashes, lips parted and question posed on his tongue that she answers by pulling his mouth towards hers again, biting at his lower lip and pouring a senseless please into his mouth. He grunts against her lips, biting back, tongue running across her bottom lip and chest pressed against her own. They only leave enough space for their hands — grabbing at each other recklessly, hands finding purchase where they can.

Their bodies shift against the bricks as she tugs at his belt buckle with newfound fervor, hearing the soft clink of it as she undoes it entirely. He mimics the action, going as far as to dip his hand inside, pressing against her underwear and the whine she lets out is swallowed up by his mouth. She pulls away to kiss at his cheek, leaning towards his ear.

“Don’t tease,” she huffs out, can feel him grinning against her neck as his fingers graze everywhere between her legs but where they need to be.

She slips her hand into his pants, feeling the hard heat of him against her palm — she presses down, just to make him grunt and tremble against her frame. “I said don’t tease.”

“Eager girl,” he mutters, a tease to the words, and she tries not to give away how much it affects her. The mess between her legs is indicative enough as he pushes the fabric to the side, runs his finger up and down her seam a couple times and she’s gasping.

Her lips press against his neck reflexively — open-mouthed kisses against his smooth skin. She catches a whiff of a fading perfume she doesn’t recognize; nothing like the Red Cross girls’ familiar scent. It makes her stomach twist in a weird way she doesn’t want to acknowledge, so she doesn’t.

She feels the first of his fingers press into her — long and defined, her muscles relaxing around the digit as he murmurs encouragement into her ear: let me in, there you go, that all for me?

She noses at his pulse point, further tormenting herself with that weird mix of flowery perfume and his typical scent as her hand works past his underwear to wrap around his length properly. He swears as she squeezes and takes her time, dragging her hand up and down the silky smoothness of his cock.

“Viv,” he sounds wrecked already from a few twists of her hand, and that fact alone has her grinning and preening between heavy sighs as he works a second finger inside her, clenching around his digits as they move in and out her at an almost-languid face.

Her teeth graze against his neck and Bucky makes a throaty noise — a desperate Vivian. Pleading, fingers curling inside her. Like he needs her mark more than he needs oxygen, or whiskey, or all the pretty girls in London. So she bites hard, until she’s certain it’ll bruise, lathes over the spot with her tongue. His thumb presses against her clit firm, and she whines into his neck as he zeroes in on the spot.

“Like that?” he grunts. She nods her head furiously. “Words, baby.”

The endearment makes her heart hurt. She pushes it to the back of her mind.

“Like that,” she parrots in his ear. “Fuck. Keep going. I need—”

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs in a way that sounds properly sober. She greedily pulls him back in with every flex of his fingers, his cock pulsing in her hand with each twist of her wrist. Viv squeezes, watching his hips start to rock as he thrusts into the channel her wrist has made.

With each thrust, he presses against her clit and a spot inside her that has her whining raggedly into his neck. Her head’s swimming, hardly able to make any sense of his ramblings about how tight and warm she is, unable to answer when he asks if she knows how long he’s been thinking about this but grateful that he doesn’t stop when all she can answer with is a moan. He works quickly, and for once Viv is willing to let him do this: take her apart, put her back together, brand her body with his kisses against whatever skin he can find and squeezes of her breast, her hip.

If they can’t give each other anything else, they can have this.

“Bucky,” she gasps out. “I’m—”

“Not Bucky,” he grunts, a harsh thrust of his fingers accompanying the cutoff. “Don’t call me Bucky.” She huffs, lifting her head to look at him. Her eyes are so dark she could hardly tell if they were still blue.

“John,” she corrects, leaning forward to press her forehead back to his. “M’close, John. M’so close.”

His lips part and his eyes flutter shut as she lets her thumb brush across the weepy head of his cock, making a soft little moan.

“I’ll get you there,” he murmurs, “how d’you want it?”

“Faster. Please.”

“I’ll get you there, sweetheart,” she feels his fingers spread a little inside her — she’s crushing their lips together again to swallow the noises that would otherwise tumble freely from her lips as his fingers make a scissoring motion, pressing hard against her bundle of nerves. She’s only upright because of his body pressed against her, keeping her sandwiched between the wall and his frame, keeping her obscured from any onlooker if they tried to pause and discern who Major Egan was with.

Did the others call him John? Did he ask them to? Did he hide them just like this — let them keep a crumb of their modesty even as he took them apart? Did the girl in London take him apart like she is now, with teeth and rough hands, or were her palms just as soft as her flowery perfume?

The questions have her eyes stinging, so she shuts them and kisses him harder as her body starts to tremble, arm wrapping around his broad shoulders to press him impossibly closer. Selfishly so, to pretend for just a moment that he is hers and hers alone. That she’s one of those broken-in shelter dogs and not a stray tied up with a chain around her neck.

She makes a broken, throaty sound against his lips as she comes, and he squeezes her tight as he thrusts once, twice, three times before freezing up. His cock, slowly softening in her hand as they kiss each other. There’s a wet noise when they part again and she opens her eyes to look at him.

His cheeks are ruddy and flushed, black curls falling in front of his forehead as he looks down between them. His arm is still wrapped around her waist, solid and strong like he’s waiting for her trembling to subside. How does she tell him that it never will? That tomorrow her hands will shake during pre-flight check, and they will shake on the mission, and when they come back — if they come back.

His fingers slowly withdraw from the deepest parts of her, she pulls her hand from his pants and wipes whatever remnant of him is on it on the bricks behind her unceremoniously. Still, he presses a kiss between her brows and goes to tuck her shirt back in, to zip the fly and put her back together, saying nothing. She almost wishes he wouldn’t do it at all. There’re… things you’re supposed to do after this: questions to ask. How was that? and Are you okay? but they can’t bring themselves to say that. This, she figures, is meant to make up for that.

There’s a lot of things they don’t say. Maybe it’s better if they just keep it that way.

We’re a mess is all she can think about as his hands go to squeeze once at her hips, uncharacteristically silent. He’s looking at her and for the first time in a long time she can’t discern what the expression on his face is meant to convey. The furrowed brows, the softness there coupled with the grief inching its way back in. Maybe the girls in London don’t get this look from him — something so scarily synonymous with a raw wound that it has her wanting to stumble back.

Mending a wound is not something she knows how to do. She can only poke at its edges until it’s aggravated. Run her dirty hands along it until it’s infected and gone septic. That, she knows how to do — and he’s deserving of so much more than that. She doesn’t know if she regrets this yet, and maybe she’ll have that part sorted tomorrow.

She just knows that this is probably the last time it’ll ever happen and he’ll be better for it. Go through the rest of this knowing that the two of them have hit their ceiling — not because they wanted to, but because she’s just not equipped with the tools to help him break through it. Viv lets her arm fall from his shoulders, summoning the strength to stand on her own. She even goes through the effort of pushing one of those curls of his back into place and straightening out his tie so they’re both halfway decent.

“See you tomorrow,” is all Viv can manage now, as his grip loosens on her, too.

“Yeah,” he rasps, something tight in the way he agrees. He takes a step back.

She scurries off, further into the dark, nauseous over what could happen if he follows her this time.

#is now a good time to say i got the title from Cosmic Love #masters of the air #bucky egan #bucky egan x oc #masters of the air oc #bucky egan smut

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pankowperfection · 2 years ago

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Try Again

Summary: JJ has been unattentive lately and you've had enough, he shows you just how sorry he is

Warnings: smut, rough sex, bondage, spanking, teasing, hair pulling, slight domination, dub-con, angst, 18+

If you were being honest with yourself, you hadn’t been happy in a while. JJ frequently found reasons to stay late at work, coming home long after you’d gone to bed. You feel like you’re at the bottom of his priority list, everything else seeming to come first. When he did come home at a decent hour, you spent the evening sitting silently on opposite sides of the couch while he scrolled on his phone, effectively shutting you out.

His mood had been horrible too. Short fuse quickly going off at the smallest thing. He had yelled at you multiple times this week for various things: not smiling enough, not answering a question he asked you directly. He’d even gone as far to call you lazy several times, tears dropping down your cheeks as you continued to build up your walls inside. You were extremely tired of walking on eggshells in your own home, feeling like any small thing you say or do will set him off.

On Friday night he comes home late again, your planned date night totally ruined. He notices you sitting on the couch with a sour look on your face, immediately going into defensive mode. “What the fuck is wrong now y/n?” You sigh, not wanting to get into this right now but no longer able to hold it in. “You are what’s wrong. You always tell me I don’t smile enough, maybe because I’m not fucking happy J! Do I even matter to you? At all?” His chest is heaving, you can see the anger burning in his eyes. You swallow thickly, throat pulsing from screaming and a lump forming as the tears build in your eyes again.

“Well excuse me for trying to get my fucking truck finished. God, you’re such an attention whore. If you’re so miserable why don’t you just leave?” The damn inside you breaks, months of pent up frustration finally being set free. Wordlessly you stalk to your shared room, grabbing a bag and starting to shove clothes into it. He stands immobile in the living room, eyes closed as he tries to flush the anger out of his system. Once satisfied you have the necessities you head to the bathroom, grabbing what you’ll need for a couple of days before you can come back and get the rest of your things or figure out a long term plan.

“Baby, come on. I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.” He grabs onto your shoulders to stop you as you try to shove past him into the kitchen to grab your keys. “Let go of me J, I’m not kidding. I’m done.” You shove him away, making it the final few steps to the door and wrapping your hand around the knob. Before you get the chance to open it he’s caged you in, pressing you into the cool wood as your body starts to respond to his proximity. He brushes the hair off your shoulder, gliding his nose up your shoulder to your ear, making you shiver and arousal swirl low in your belly.

“You don’t mean it,” he whispers, pressing his erection into your ass while his hands ghost over your curves. His tongue teases the shell of your ear and you bite back a moan, arching forward into his touch. His rough fingers dive under the waistband of your leggings and panties, cupping your dripping pussy. You feel him smirk against your neck, thinking he’s won. “If you really want to leave, then why is your pussy crying for me?” You suck in a sharp breath, twisting in his grasp to shove him back again. “I mean it J. We’re finished.” You attempt to back your way out of the door but he’s too quick, dark look sliding over his face.

“We’re not finished until I say so y/n, and I think you know that.” Suddenly he throws you over his shoulder, carrying you to the bedroom and tossing you down onto the bed. You try to get away but he’s quick to subdue you, sitting on your hips while he secures your hands to the headboard with handcuffs. “You’re mad at me and that’s fine. But I’m gonna fuck this attitude out of you, then we can talk.”

“Don’t you dare,” you seethe, turning your head away as he tries to kiss you on the mouth. “I’ll do what I want sweetheart. And you’re gonna take it.” He roughly grabs ahold of your chin, forcing your face forward as his lips crash into yours. You try to resist but ultimately give in, granting him access when his tongue traces over the edge of your lips. He moans and grinds into you, the seam of his jeans rubbing perfectly against your clit. You hold in your sounds of pleasure that you know he loves so much, determined not to let him see that what he’s doing is working.

His fingers shred your shirt in half, hands quickly covering the swells of your breasts as he starts to tease your nipples. “Come on princess, I know you love this. Moan for me, let me hear you.” You dig your teeth into your bottom lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction. His hand makes its way between your legs again as his lips descend over your tummy, wasting no time and thrusting two thick fingers into your soaking entrance. You gasp but otherwise don’t react, pleasure surging through your body as he starts to pump in and out of you, thumb rolling lazy circles over your clit.

“J,” you warn as he slowly peels your leggings off, kissing up each thigh before teasing the edges of your panties with his tongue. “You know, I was going to be nice and make this all about you. But since you want to be a brat, I changed my mind.” With no further warning he pulls your thong to the side, burying himself in one swift thrust. You grit your teeth, his length stretching you to the limit just like the first time. The coil inside you starts to tighten quickly, ever powerful thrust of his cock making the bed rattle against the wall.

His pace is brutal, pelvis meeting yours harshly each time he slams home. His grip on your hips is tight enough to bruise, pulling your body down to meet him. “God you feel so good wrapped around me,” he groans, lips finding your neck once again and sucking on your sweet spot. You accidentally let a small whine slip and he grins victoriously, stopping his motions to gloat. “That’s my girl.” He grins down at you, starting his thrusts again but this time slow and deep. Every thrust nudges your g-spot, your orgasm surging closer but its not enough. He promised you rough and that’s what you want. “Come on J, fuck me. Harder.”

He pulls out, flipping you over onto your knees and spanking your right cheek. You moan, shockwave going straight to your clit as he lands another smack to your left cheek. His cock crowns your entrance again and he shoves inside, fisting your hair until your back arches deeply. “Is that better sweetheart? Want me to show you who’s boss?” You cry out his name in response, throwing your hips back to match his thrusts and send him even deeper. “Such a good little slut for me. You better cum when I say so or you’ll be in even more trouble. Understand?” You nod, not trusting your words as you struggle to fight off your impending high.

The cuffs eat into your wrists but you just don’t care, electricity shooting through your veins with each push and pull of his body against yours. His free hand falls to your mound, expertly rolling your clit back and forth as his thrusts grow more frantic. “J please, I can’t hold it.” He somehow speeds up more, grip in your hair tightening as his balls smack against your lips. “Cum princess, now.” You explode, chanting his name like a prayer as you feel his hot cum fill you up. He comes down on top of your back, unhooking your restraints and pulling you against his chest. “I’m sorry y/n, and I mean it. Next time tell me when I’m not giving you enough attention, okay?” You smile, turning in his grasp to give him a sweet kiss. “Okay J, I promise.”

Please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist

@adventuresinobx @starkeyobx @paradisehamilton @ailee-celeste @pankhoeforlife @outerbankspov @houseofperfecttaste @drewbooooo @maybankslover @maybanks-luver @blueicequeen19 @toystory2wasjustokay @I-always-come-back-xoxo @onmykneesforrafe @penny4yourthoughts @maddie-routledge

#jj maybank smut #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x reader #jj x y/n #jj maybank #jj maybank angst #obx imagine #obx fanfiction #obx smut

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kaylinelizabeth4004 · 1 year ago

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Between Two Lungs/Heaven is Here Pt 2

SYNOPSIS: Y/N tries to process the idea of eternity and reincarnation. Aziraphale begins to identify his feelings for both Crowley and Y/N. Crowley is pining and moody

WORD COUNT: 7k

TAGS: Aziraphale x Reader x Crowley, Aziraphale x Reader, Aziraphale x Crowley, fluff, soulmates, pining, kind of confession, so much fluff, emotional hurt/comfort, pov third person, fluff and angst

A/N: i didn’t mean for this to be as long as it is, and I mean the story itself. But there will be a part 3. This focuses more on Aziraphale, next more on Crowley. Sorry this isn’t as long as the last but felt like it was wrapped up

She felt like she was vibrating as a human, small little shakes destroying her entire sense of balance. Nina had made her take her break, though it was far too early in her shift, and she sat in the back with her legs shaking so violently the table rattled. She'd broken her mug that was sitting on top of it. Y/N was absentminded the entire shift, messing up orders and stuttering with each customer she talked to. Eventually Nina pulled her aside during a lull.

"What is going on?"

"What do you mean?" Y/N asked, eyes wide as she seemed to realize that this wasn't a 'here's the sugar, don't forget the napkins' spiel - the kind of spiel every new person got during the first month of their job, that was both helpful and insulting - but a 'you're fucking up spiel' - which was significantly less enjoyable and filled the receiver with such shame and embarrassment they considered the different cliffs nearby. During a particularly intense thought she considered the cliffs of Broadchurch, before remembering that was from a television show.

"Don't be daft. You've been a good barista these past few weeks, then that couple comes in and you're dancing like a bee."

"A bee?"

"They dance to communicate," Nina said plainly, as though it was an obvious comparison. Nina was sometimes so in her own head, tracking her own thought process, that she couldn't comprehend why it wasn't someone else's immediate thought as well. It was something her shrink told her to work on.

"Oh, sorry. I, they just rattled me." Y/N tried to ignore the image in her head of Nina moonwalking while firing her or someone salsaing on their way to tell someone their son has tried tragically. It was terribly funny and she was not in a terribly funny sort of mood. Demons and angels did that to a person.

Nina stared at her for a moment, "you a homophobe?"

"Oh! Oh my god, no. Never, that's not what I mean. No, no, no," she was rambling, not knowing what to say and now terrified her boss thought she was a homophone. She tried to consider how to explain to Nina that she wasn't homophobic, she'd just been pulled aside by a literal angel and demon who told her that her soul has been trapped on earth for more than 2,000 years eternally connected to them with their miscommunication and angst, which means that when the world does indeed end in fire she will definitely be there and might not have a place to go after the fact aside from miserable eternity. So she settled on saying something close enough to the truth that Nina wouldn't think she's a piece of shit that should be fired. "They, they made these comments about fate. Eternity and whatever. It wasn't bad, they weren't bad, I just got spooked. Not really religious, didn't know what to think of it."

Nina blinked rapidly and paused, letting Y/N's words sink in. "You're like this cause you're having a crisis of fate?"

"I- I, well yeah. It sounds silly. Just got to me."

"We get missionaries in here all the time, the Mormons won't leave me alone. You gonna be like this every time someone mentions God?"

"No! This is a one time thing, I promise. I'm not usually like this. I think it was the de - redhead, he drank like a lot of espresso and he was talking very intense-like." Whenever she got anxious her language devolved into likes and ums, stutters and little comments that only made sense to herself. She sometimes wished she could press an off button to stop the random shit that just decided to spew from her.

Nina looked at her with a sort of blanket skepticism she carried into each conversation. One of the things Maggie both loved and struggled with. Eventually she nodded, "right, okay. Life gets tough, people throw us off. I get it. I'm gonna send you home today, you're a mess even if it is a one time thing. Next time this happens, you tell me so we can fix it." Y/N's shoulders slumped at being sent home, feeling like she failed Nina. Nina, being surprisingly observant, went to reassure her, "shop closes in an hour anyways. Only one person comes in regularly and it's my partner, I'll be fine."

Y/N nodded, untying her apron and hanging it up. Nina gave her a smile as she left, trying awkwardly to comfort her. She really did appreciate the attempts, even if Nina's somewhat harsh demeanor failed to always communicate that.

Y/N loitered outside the shop for a minute, staring at the antique shop of 'Mr. Fell' who she'd come to realize just a few short hours ago belonged to the actual angel Aziraphale. She should go talk to them. They'd told her to. Aziraphale had insisted that she come over after her shift to discuss this situation more, maybe she could start to recover some of her past memories. She'd gotten a few initially, remembering the ring and Crowley's eyes. Crowley had suggested he just make Nina forget she was working and to let her go freely. While tempted by the demon's offer, she'd only had this job for two weeks and wasn't about to risk it all. Though it clearly wasn't the worst of her problems.

She began to cross the street to the building. It was tall and cute, tucked on a street corner and just old enough to be charming. Windows with drawn blinds teased at stacks and stacks of books, but even without approaching the door she knew it'd have a closed sign. Nina had told her when she first started at the coffee shop that the bookshop was never open, the owner liked having space for his personal library rather than actually selling any of his precious books.

Parked in front of the shop was a black Bentley. It was a vintage style though Y/N knew nothing about the year aside from it was older than 1980, and even then it was a hazarded guess. It was sleek, kept in prime condition. Inside one of the windows there was a film with two bullet holes printed on it, something that made Y/N smile. Her grandfather had one of them as well, said he'd bought it because of James Bond. In the back seat she spotted a cardboard box labeled 'troublemaker' with a plant sticking out of it. It's leaves were wilting. Somehow, without even being told, Y/N knew the Bentley was Crowley's.

She lingered in front of the doors. She wanted to knock, she had to knock, but it was bloody scary to face your entire past, present, and future in one go. But, with bravery unmatched since the laudanum accident in the '30s - the 1830s, that is - she knocked.

Behind the door she heard two voices talking, the deeper grumbling and getting closer as he walked to the door. Then it swung open with a gusto, revealing the shape of Crowley.

She swallowed. He was imposing, tall and thin as he peered down a just slightly crooked nose. His hair was beautifully curled back on his head, though the slightest hairs fell onto his forehead. Though his spectacles covered his eyes, she let out a breath knowing those eyes were still there. His eyes had been a constant in her life.

"We're closed- oh. It's you." He said, his voice getting hoarse as he stared at her.

"Who is it - oh! Dear, you're here. Come, come in." Aziraphale said from further in the shop, standing with a book in his hands and spectacles on his nose. He looked kind and sweet, back straight and plush, pink lips curved into a smile. Crowley moved aside for her, letting her cross the threshold with anxious steps. He slammed the door shut.

The bookshop was exactly as she expected. Stacks and stacks of slightly dusty book shelves, covered with as many books as possible. There were horrors, romances, histories, science fictions, fantasies and Bibles. A remarkable number of bibles actually. They had a whole row shoved full of copies of the Bible. Y/N didn't feel like analyzing why an Angel would want well over 20 copies of his group's history but who was she to judge? She owned 5 copies of her favorite book, the Hunchback of Notre Dame. Perhaps a little boring as it was a classic, but the story had hooked her since she saw the enamoring - although a slightly questionable choice to be a children's movie - Disney adaptation. One look into the music and she was glued to the story. The shop smelled of vanilla and old books, a combination that helped calm her racing heart.

"Hi," she said softly once she realized the unearthly beings were staring at her expectantly.

"Hi," Crowley said back. He hadn't taken his spectacles off, and she didn't like that.

"I, um, I love the shop. It's so warm."

"I can, err, lower the temperature if you require, dearest," Aziraphale said, wanting to help calm her but not knowing how.

"No, I meant the atmosphere is warm. Like a hug. But t-thank you," she said. Then after a pause she added, "Aziraphale."

"Would you like a cup of tea, dear?" Aziraphale said finally after a long moment where the three exchanged glances at one another, unaware of what to do next. The tension was so thick she briefly wondered if she jumped from a ledge if she’d be caught in it’s stupid bloody web. A weird and kind of stupid analogy but it seemed to bring her back to reality. Silly things always did.

She let out a breath, "fuck yeah."

Crowley chuckled at this, sauntering back to where he'd been sitting by Aziraphale's desk. Aziraphale gave a curt nod and went into some back room. She lingered by the door.

"C'mon over here, I don't bite," he said, taking a sip of wine from a glass she hadn't seen sit on the end table. His posture was sprawled on a comfy chair, one leg hanging over the arm of it.

"I'm beginning to doubt that," she said with a little laugh, grateful for his relaxed energy to bring down some of the tension. She walked over and sat on a sofa that was surprisingly comfortable, letting herself sink into the cushions.

"Only if you ask, darling," Crowley said with a wink. He immediately regretted the wink but tried not to let it show. He was never an intentionally flirty individual so when he did say flirty things, often by accident, he cringed at himself.

But she just flushed at his words and got comfortable on the sofa. She wasn't upset, in fact she shot back with a, "only in your wildest dreams, love." The term love sent his human heart racing and he quickly looked away. Only Aziraphale had made him feel this way and he hadn't even begun to process those emotions, let alone do it a second time for her.

Aziraphale returned with two steaming mugs of tea and a bottle of wine which he promptly handed over to Crowley. She thanked him and sipped the drink, letting out a happy sigh at the cinnamon thrown in. She loved cinnamon.

"How are you feeling, my dear?" Aziraphale asked, his eyes wide and full of concern. "It can be a lot to take in."

"I'll admit I've kind of been in a state of shock. It doesn't feel real. Not that I don't believe you, I mean you did stop time and I remember your ring. It's, it's kind of frightening, actually? If that doesn't sound childish."

"Earth's full of s'frightening things," Crowley said in a strange sort of reassurance.

"Right, well while I appreciate that sentiment, you two aren't from Earth. So it's another layer of frightening."

"Perhaps we could help ease your worry by answering some questions?"

"Oh, I don't know. I have so many, I don't want to waste your time." She said, running her tongue over her lips quickly. She was struggling to maintain eye contact.

"Darling, you aren't a waste." This kind statement came, surprisingly - or unsurprisingly depending who you asked, as Aziraphale watched with a fondness towards a certain demon Y/N couldn't explain - from Crowley. "We could ask you some as well if you'd like. Even the scales a bit."

She blew out a breath, nodding. Her heart was racing inside her chest. Strangely enough she did trust these two unearthly beings, but she didn't know what to do or say. She'd never imagine herself being in a situation like this before, and she couldn't fathom the words. They slid on her tongue but wouldn't come out. So she meekly said, "you first?"

Aziraphale and Crowley exchanged a glance. Aziraphale smiled when he looked into Crowley's eyes, remembering how he and Y/N had agreed they were the demon's best feature. They made him look so kind, even if it seemed a roundabout sort of way. Crowley, on the other hand, was admiring the way Aziraphale guided what felt like such a new and unknown conversation. The Angel took lead with a breath and a kind smile, "what is your favorite dessert?"

Her mouth dropped slightly as her eyes lit up, she hadn't expected such an innocent question. "I- I don't know. I can be quite picky. Maybe Tiramisu? I quite fancy that."

"How lovely! Such a wonderful choice." Aziraphale clapped eagerly, now craving a nice cold Tiramisu with a warm cup of coffee right beside it. And of course water as a palate cleanser. Oh and perhaps -

"What-," she started, then seemed to lose steam. Y/N straightened, setting her mug down and sitting more firmly. "When did you meet me? First meet me?"

Crowley gestured for Aziraphale to start. The Angel began, "we met you in 55BC. You couldn't have been more than 25, maybe a little younger given you were unmarried at the time. Crowley and I went to eat oysters, and you were in a corner crying. Julius Caesar had just announced his invasion on Britannia, and you had a brother and father who were both in the Navy. You worried over their safety. I blessed you eternally, and Crowley cursed you eternally."

"What made you curse me?"

Crowley looked embarrassed, "I wasn't used to the whole cursing thing so it was a surprise for s'both. You tripped over my foot and called me an asshole."

Her eyebrows shot up and she laughed slightly. Then she stilled, searching her brain for as much memory as she could. It was hidden in the back of her head, hazy ideas of what happened with no coherent life story. She mused to herself that all those hyper realistic historical dreams she had must have some founding in her experience. Her experience. There was a Y/N that existed out of this body and this name, and she existed over 2,000 years previously. She was a sister and a daughter, she had fears and worries just like she did now. It was a frightening concept.

Crowley seemed to notice Y/N sink into herself, mind moving so quick with all these ideas. He couldn't well tell her not to overthink it because even trying to think about it was overthinking it, but he knew he had to be careful with it. Ease her into the world with little memories here and there. "You like Shakespeare?"

"Oh, I, yes I do. I love Shakespeare's works. I performed in one of his plays in secondary school."

"Which one?"

"Taming of the Shrew," she laughed. "Horrible meaning nowadays, but I was lucky enough to be Katherine. It was fun yelling and banging things up on stage."

Crowley and Aziraphale chuckled, they would have loved to see that performance. They imagined her standing brave, eyes sharp and shoulders pulled back as she spat venomous words to all of the men who dared to stand in her way. She was a passionate woman - time couldn't steal that - regardless of her acting ability, they wanted to see and feel it all.

"Did I ever see Shakespeare?"

"Funny you mentioned it, dearest, but yes. We met you once at Hamlet's rehearsals. You were quite enamored with the stage," Aziraphale looked wistfully into Y/N's eyes. "I know it seems odd to say given the strange circumstances, but it's one of my favorite memories of you. Before I realized who you were, I always thought fondly of the girl who broke in to see a Shakespeare show. You were so excited to be alive and experience life, that can be quite refreshing for an immortal creature."

Y/N's chest felt tight and she tried to swallow the emotion in her chest. She'd been there, seen it with her own eyes with people she didn't know she'd known and would know. The idea of reincarnation, of a soul going through the motions of life forever, haunted her and she suddenly felt as though she couldn't breathe. They were being wonderful with her, patient and kind. They knew that the concept of eternity wasn't easy, a brain couldn't wrap around it just right. It was so much, it was too much. She felt trapped and stupid, so stupid - shouldn't she be able to process this? Characters in film and book seem to understand the confusion around them like it was common sense, they don't panic over each thought related to what it is. Her chest was tight, she closed her eyes and tried to fight back tears she didn't know were there. This was too much, why would some God give all of this to humans?

She suddenly felt a hand along her back, gently rubbing up and down. It was Aziraphale, hands large, warm, and consistent along her spine. She released a shaky breath. "Breathe with me, dearest. Inhale... exhale. Inhale..."

Crowley appeared, sitting on the floor and leaning against the coffee table. He pointed to her hand and asked, "May I?"

She nodded and he lifted it, letting his fingers rub mindless circles into her palms. They were short and sweet, running up to her elbow and down to her finger tips. They made her shudder but in the best way.

Her heart started to calm down, the world stopped spinning beneath her. She focused on Aziraphale's warm hands on her back, Crowley's ginger touches to her arm. They were kind and gentle. It made her feel safe, it made her feel appreciated. In the back of her mind she felt those stupid, mindless thoughts about self loathing and incompetence.

Crowley seemed to sense these feelings. Whether he could read her mind or she was just that transparent she didn't know, but he jumped in. "Y/N, it'snot bad to question the universe. The universe is bloody strange, no one can make sense of it."

She opened her eyes now, blinking away the tears, and looked into his. His glasses were still on and she slowly went to remove them, to reveal the eyes she remembered. These eyes were raw, these eyes didn't lie. They were kind to her. She nodded.

"Dearest, if you are comfortable, would you like to take a rest? I have a bed upstairs if you'd like," Aziraphale said. She turned to look to him. His eyes were glassy and his nose pink, as though he was fighting to hold back tears himself. She liked his face, he had a pretty face. Pink lips with a perfect little Cupid's bow on the top, turned up in an attempt at a smile. She could tell he was struggling, wanting to help her.

So she nodded, stood up on wobbly legs and followed after Aziraphale up a winded staircase to a cozy bedroom. It was small, but covered with antiques and precious books on a desk in the corner. A large bed took up most of the room, made up nearly with beige sheets and many, many fluffy pillows. Aziraphale took his time fussing, folding back the sheets and making sure the pillows were just right. She climbed into the bed and laid her head down, smiling in affirmation.

"Now, dearest, we will be right downstairs. You remember that this situation is frightening, you are not wrong. If you need either of us just call."

She reached out for his hand and kissed his palm, muttering "thank you," against his skin. He nodded, flushed cheeks and ears, and hoped for her to sleep well. She closed her eyes, willing to be swept away in a world without fear.

—————

Aziraphale went down the steps quietly, meeting Crowley back where they were. Crowley had put his spectacles back on, sprawling in the chair. However, Aziraphale knew Crowley well enough to know that it wasn't as casual as it looked. He could tell by the way Crowley adjusted awkwardly that he, too, was trying to hide his emotions. Aziraphale sat down on the couch where Y/N had sat, his hands on his legs awkwardly before he sighed.

Aziraphale poured himself a glass of Crowley's wine, savoring the sharp taste. Crowley's brows shot up and he smirked, "bad day, eh?"

"I still do not understand the concept of sarcasm."

"It's funny, Angel."

"Hardly, if it was funny I would laugh."

Crowley chuckled to himself, sipping the wine. Aziraphale was so unintentionally hilarious sometimes. He glanced outside the window, peeking through the blinds as the sun started to slip behind the buildings. Crowley wondered vaguely how Y/N was feeling, wondered how they could ever make her feel better. There was no good way out of this situation, it'd never happened before and was certainly not going to happen again.

As Crowley thought about Y/N and the world, Aziraphale was caught thinking about the demon. He thought back to how kind he had been to Y/N, how he'd asked for permission to distract her with light touch. His reassuring words she hadn't asked for but he seemed to know she needed to here. The way he understood how terrifying the prospect of life truly was. Aziraphale had had this thought for a while, but it seemed to suddenly strike him that Crowley truly wasn't evil at all. In fact, he was kinder than most angels Aziraphale knew.

Questions. All it has been to cause Crowley to fall was some questions meant out of kindness. And yet questions were what he encouraged, what he did to help Y/N and help Aziraphale. He asked Aziraphale about anything, knowing how the Angel loved to learn and discover. He prompted him to reach farther, do better, not settle for what is known but look for more. Questions paved the way to understanding, which might not always lead to happiness, but it can settle the soul. Crowley had learned a long time ago that knowing is half the battle, but he'd rather stand half a chance than not at all.

"You were very kind to her," Aziraphale eventually said.

"Ngk, she was s'panicking."

"You didn't have to reassure her."

Crowley made a noise in the back of his throat as though he resented that statement, "yous might say that but when you trap someone to eternity, she deserves ki - not bad stuff."

Almost a dangerous slip up. Crowley was typically very aware of the words he spoke and how it could get him in trouble. Though his affiliation with Hell was pretty much done, they still had the power to torture him need be. No use letting the word out that he could ever be 'kind.' Crowley remembered what life was like after the 1830s, and his back seemed to burn with the memory. Scars that never truly heal, but reform, each step more painful than the last. But that was a moment for a different day, different circumstances.

Aziraphale went to speak, then doubted himself. Then he strengthened, reminding himself that things are different. He was going to make a move. "Crowley, I was planning to read my book. Would you - would you like to sit with me while I do?"

Crowley blinked, not understanding Aziraphale's poorly explained request, "I am sssitting Angel."

"Over here." Aziraphale said awkwardly, gesturing to the space around him.

Crowley didn't understand what Aziraphale meant. On the angels lap? Certainly not, neither of them were ready for that level of intimacy. Right beside him? Perhaps, but Aziraphale patted his thigh so perhaps not. The Angel cleared his throat, "I thought, perhaps, you could rest your head on my lap while I read."

Crowley's eyebrows shot up. Ah. Despite himself his cheeks flushed pink, but he wanted more than anything to fulfill the angel's request. He'd never dreamed that Aziraphale would prompt anything.

They stared at one another, realizing what this meant. In this moment they were acknowledging an unspoken part of their relationship, that they were certainly more than friends or acquaintances and far from enemies. That they might 'fancy' each other, as the humans say. This was their person, and they were wrapped eternally with one another. Crowley knew another fact, they were wrapped eternally with Y/N. And they couldn't make their relationship with her function if they could not understand themselves either. He also knew that Aziraphale looked very handsome, ankles crossed and book posed in hand as he waited for the demon.

Crowley sauntered over, laying closer to the edge so his legs could dangle off the arm. Then he let his head fall on the angel's lap. Aziraphale had very strong thighs, always had. They were warm through his trousers, and all of him smelled of vanilla and old books. Crowley let himself close his eyes, cherishing the warmth and surprising comfort of the position.

He felt soft fingers start to scratch lightly at his scalp, musing with his hair as gently as possible. Crowley let out a small moan at the feeling, Satan it felt good to have your hair played with. Aziraphale chuckled.

"What're you reading?"

"Henry V."

Crowley swallowed before asking, "Can yous read it to me?"

Aziraphale smiled, "of course, darling." He flipped back to the first scene for Crowley's sake. "The chorus sings 'O for a muse of fire, that would ascend the brightest Heaven of invention' ..."

Though they wouldn’t say the words until much later, until emotions seemed to swirl round them and they couldn’t not address it, this was the best way they could say it.

It crossed a demon’s mind for the first clear time, I’m in love with an Angel.

It crossed an angel’s mind for the first clear time, I’m in love with a demon.

—————

She woke up the next morning to the sun blinking through the blinds. She hadn't slept that hard in a long time and she let herself wake up slowly, sleep threatening to take her over again. Y/N sighed, that was nice. Aziraphale's room was organized chaos, and as she woke up she let her eyes adjust to all the little things throughout the room. Trinkets.

A snow-globe that looked like early 1900s, multiple copies of Beowulf in various conditions stacked on his desk, a note from Crowley signed with a large signature taped to the wall, a map of England with a pin sticking out of a town called Tadfield. A whole person's history in one collection.

Y/N was significantly calmer this morning that she was yesterday. She'd woken up for a moment during the night and began to let her mind wander to all the possibilities, before stopping herself and falling asleep. Today, she found herself more used to the idea. It was strange, uncomfortable even, but she wasn't panicking.

She got out of bed, rolling her ankles and stretching her body. Her bobble had fallen out during the night and she grabbed it to pull her hair back and out of her face. Then she carefully went downstairs, smelling the warm scent of baked goods wafting its way to her. When she entered a kitchen that seemed hidden behind rooms full of books, she saw Aziraphale in his vest and trousers paired with an apron covered in sweet little hearts.

"Good morning, my dear!" He said when he saw her. He was making some tea and gestured for her to take a seat at the island table while the kettle finished boiling. "How did you sleep?"

"Really well, actually," she said with a little laugh, her voice hoarse from her first words.

He turned to her, smile so genuine it shocked her, "I'm so glad to hear it. I am making us some cinnamon rolls. I've also decided to slice up some apples to go with it, I thought the freshness of the fruit might be nice first thing in the morning."

"That sounds amazing," she said. "Where is Crowley?"

"He said he had some business to attend to. Shouldn't be out long, I assure you, dearest."

She mulled over in mind what 'business' Crowley had. She knew from some of their explanations in the cafe that they don't necessarily work for Heaven or Hell as they used to, they're more or less independent. That left them to live life as they see fit, so what business could a demon have?

"Thank you, Aziraphale. For everything."

He glanced up, surprised. He came over and grasped her hand lightly, "my dear, this is a strange thing that has happened to you. Crowley and I wish to support you."

"If I can ask... why? You could have not told me, you could have continued without dealing with the consequences. I'd have never known."

"We couldn't do that. You didn't choose this, and we did not mean to do it."

"I don't want to be your responsibility, that's not fair either."

He blushed, "It's, err, it's more than that. We want to be with you. In whatever way you'll take us, myself and Crowley. If I may be forward, we've yearned for you for too long to lose you the first time we realize what we have."

"You've not even known me? I could be horrible."

"You are not horrible, dearest. I could feel it if you were. It's ... odd. Our souls are drawn to you and we want you in our lives, even without knowing the details. Both Crowley and I have longed for the woman with the strange encounters throughout time, and we finally found her. The souls are linked, even without reason, and we'll take you in any way we can."

Her mouth dropped open, forming a little shocked 'o.' That was hot. Is that weird to say that was hot? She'd never had a man - granted he wasn't a man just presenting male - confess wanting her, in any way, like that. It made her toes tingle and her heart warm, and she stared deeply into Aziraphale's blue eyes to be certain this was no joke. She knew he was an Angel but she put that aside and looked at him. He said they were drawn to her, and without saying the word implied they'd loved her for years without knowing. She isn't the sort this happens to, she doesn't have creatures who want to know her and understand her like this. It was a pure connection, one built on a link they couldn't understand but knew all the same. Mysterious ways of the Almighty and all. She kept looking into those eyes, searching for any sort of trickery. Despite herself, she knew he wasn't the sort to lie.

The kettle started to screech and Aziraphale pulled away to pour the cuppas, destroying the moment. He slid hers in front of her, just as she likes it. It was delightful.

Y/N watched Aziraphale move around the kitchen. He wasn't a particularly tall man, but he wasn't short either. She let her eyes fall along his strong forearms, revealed by his sleeves rolled to the elbow, lightly dusted with hair. His hands were capable, yet she knew they were soft. He might not be the most conventional sort of attractive, the type that movie stars are, but she was struck by him. Aziraphale had a draw to him that made her blush and glance down, suddenly shy in his presence yet knowing she was safe in who she is.

She realized that she wanted to know more about him, she wanted to hear his stories about his life, regardless of if she was in it. She wanted to know more about his relationship with Crowley, and what they had that seemed to be left unsaid. Y/N couldn't believe the fantastical reality that started playing in her head, a world where she lived and loved a demon and an Angel. Love was getting ahead of herself, she should be more careful. She longed for a good relationship with them, but that didn't mean that it had to be a romantic relationship. But, as she looked back at the Angel she sighed, damn did the Angel have great thighs.

"Dearest?" He asked, eyes wide and mouth just slightly parted as he stared at her.

She glanced down. Her tea had gotten cold and a warm cinnamon roll with apple slices on the side sat in front of her. "O-oh. Thank you."

"Is everything alright?" Damn him for sounding so sincere, blue eyes sweet like candy.

"You won't laugh?" She asked with a small smile, though she'd already made the decision to tell him honestly. She had a feeling lying would not make things easier in this relationship.

"No," Aziraphale answered precisely.

"I was distracted by you. You're so handsome."

Aziraphale seemed to have a little shock, as though he didn't believe that is what she said. "Pardon?"

"I," She laughed softly, embarrassed to revealing that so boldly. Y/N always admired those who were bold, and in the moments it was needed to she would, but she didn't often express those thoughts. Mainly for a fear of being seen as a creep, but also because rejection is a scary thought. But Aziraphale was sweet, and seemed flattered that she thought him to be handsome. "I think you're very handsome. I like looking at you."

His cheeks flushed pink and he took a rushed sip of his tea, "well, thank you darling. I- I hadn't quite expected that. I've been told I'm soft."

She laughed, "so? Soft isn't a bad thing."

"Do you like soft?"

"Sure, I like soft, I like hard. Besides, I believe personality and talent makes a person attractive anyhow, it's not too important what it might look like to society."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, there's plenty of people who look just as the world wants for beauty. And I don't mean to say they're unattractive, they are. But I personally believe that a kind, talented man who might be ugly to the papers is the most attractive you'll encounter. And a mean, untalented man touted as attractive tends to be ugly. Words change appearances."

"You're very wise, my dear," Aziraphale said with a warm smile, placing his hand over hers. She took a shaking breath, looking up at him. He was close to her now, hot breath that smelled of cinnamon hitting her cheeks as a hand lifted near her cheek, "May I?"

She didn't know what he was asking, but she nodded because she knew she'd relish in it all the same. First Aziraphale's hand went to the bobble round her hair, gently releasing it so it fell down. Her scalp itched from the strain, and his fingers gently massaged it. His hands were strong, capable.

She was struck for a moment with a memory that seemed forgotten. Her holding the hand of a kind stranger as she slid a finger onto his finger, the way he'd clutched hers as though he might lose her. They were warm then, kind. These hands had also blessed her when she wasn't looking, guided her safely home, and cared for her at the bank of the river at St James's park. For Aziraphale it was a flash, a mere second as the memories went through her mind but she felt them deeply, surrounding her. She could feel the dirt floor of the Globe theatre beneath her feet, or the way her heart had jumped when she spotted him in 1865. It was overwhelming and beautiful, she saw a whole person's history in her interactions with him, with them. It was stupid, it was silly, but she wanted to know them. She wanted to experience the life she could only remember in fragments.

Y/N hadn't realized that tears had come down her cheeks until those hands that spoke the history came to hold her face. She leaned into his touch, the pads of his thumbs wiping the tears away.

"My dear, may I?" Aziraphale asked, his voice suddenly huskier than she'd ever heard it. Her eyes opened, staring into his. He cried also, gentle tears down his sweet cheeks. She hadn't realized she'd been holding onto his vest.

"Aziraphale... I remember you."

That was the invitation, the consent, he needed. With a gentle sort of ferocity, Aziraphale leaned in and took her lips in his own. It was eager yet restrained as it held her in place, imploring her to feel all that he felt. All 2,000 years of yearning over an unknown idea. She kissed back with an intensity she didn't know she had. She hadn't much kissing experience, not the sort to fancy many people due to her high standards that seemed only met by non-humans, but with each inexperienced stroke she paired it with passion and enthusiasm. He guided her, led her through the kiss with grace. It was like a dance. It was messy at times, noses clashing and tear stained cheeks brushing, but it was perfect. It was Aziraphale and Y/N, and they seemed to understand what the other needed.

They parted from air, their mouths not far from one another's as they let out gasps. Y/N wanted more, this Angel was dangerously close to becoming her own brand of oxygen and that kiss was the best bloody one she'd ever had. Her first was a horrible sort, a lad with no lips and horrible breath.

Aziraphale leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to Y/N's lips before pulling away more definitely. They were both right messes. Mouths swollen and pink, cheeks flushed, and hair ruined. Y/N hadn't even realized her hands had gotten buried in those soft curls, and his explored her locks that now hung free. She had a thing for good hair, and it seemed the Angel did too.

"Did - did I overstep any boundaries?" He asked, having to clear his throat. His voice came back to his normal register, though it seemed to ring with suppressed emotions.

"No," she said simply. "You didn't."

Aziraphale blew out a breath, letting his forehead fall against hers with a soft laugh, "I worried, my dear, that that was a rash decision on my part. You have only, technically, known me for two days."

"I've known you for a lifetime, love."

The nickname seemed to roll off her tongue, as it had the other night with Crowley. Comfortable, easy. And Aziraphale tried to stop the way his vessel's heart jumped at the thought of love. Too early, yes.

"Let's eat our breakfast, shall we?"

"I'm starved," she answered back, sitting on a bar stool and pulling her plate towards her. "This looks delightful."

They ate together with small bits of conversation intermixed between flushed glances when they caught the other staring at them. Aziraphale's food was as good as it looked, sweetness baked into a cinnamon delight that made her roll her eyes back. God she could eat this whole. Or, she supposed, she should say Aziraphale she could eat this whole, remove Her from the equation. Soon Y/N realized that she had a shift coming up at Nina's cafe, and needed to run to her flat to change.

"Your apron is at the front, dearest, with your purse from yesterday. We left them untouched."

"Oh, good, thank you Angel."

She went out and grabbed her purse, checking to make sure she had everything she needed. Then she realized her hair falling in her face. "Aziraphale?"

"Hmm?"

"I need my bobble back."

"Your what, dearest?"

"My bobble, hair tie thing. What you took out of my hair."

Aziraphale hummed as he walked into the main area and towards his desk, an odd yet attractive set of glasses on his nose. "I've not the faintest idea what you're talking about, love. Perhaps it fell."

Ah. Unlikely story. Especially unlikely given the bobble now on the angel's wrist. Guess he fancied her hair like that, round her face. She rolled her eyes and made to leave, before hesitating at the door. "Thank you, Aziraphale. For.. for taking me seriously. It's a strange idea, my soul being immortal and what not. I'm struggling to adjust. But I know that I want you and I want Crowley, I want to figure this out."

Aziraphale's chest seemed to lighten at the words and he smiled at the woman standing before him. She was beautiful and calm as she said this, her hair looking radiant. Y/N was quite right, he fancied her hair indeed. "I'm glad to hear that, Y/N. After your shift, if you'd like, you may come back to the bookshop?"

She smiled, "I'd like that. I, I think I'll pop round to my flat after work first to wash my hair. Let me write my number for you."

Y/N quickly scribbled her number on the front page of a very modern copy of Hunchback of Notre Dame, handing it to Aziraphale and saying, "it's my favorite book. Thought this new copy could handle the defacement."

Then she left quickly and the Angel watched her figure race past the door towards her flat, lips still pink from kissing an Angel.

#good omens #good omens season 2 #aziraphale x crowley #fanfiction #good omens fanfiction #fluff #aziraphale x crowley x reader #aziraphale x reader #so much fluff #angsty fluff #emotional hurt/comfort #binging broadchurch #accidentally made this a series #didn’t mean to but now there will be probably a part 3 and 4 #so sorry to the people who were really invested #sorry this is short

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the-silver-chronicles · 8 days ago

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Kinktober Day 22 & 31: "Breeding Kink" & "Aftercare" - For OTP: "Boa Lurking In The Bliss" (Silva Omar x Faith Seed)

Tagged by @socially-awkward-skeleton @imogenkol and @josephseedismyfather

Tagging @adelaidedrubman @raresvtm @derelictheretic @inafieldofdaisies @noodlecupcakes @direwombat @voidika @cassietrn @aceghosts @icecutioner @shallow-gravy @strangefable @statichvm @cloudofbutterflies92 @carlosoliveiraa @wrathfulrook @ladyoriza @la-grosse-patate @thewanderer-000 @omen-speaker @alypink @shellibisshe @josephslittledeputy @skoll-sun-eater @g0dspeeed @afarcryfrommymain @strafethesesinners @turbo-virgins and @florbelles + anyone else who want to join.

Prompt based on this kinktober post made by fellow mutual @starsandskies. While the main Kink of this post is "Breeding" and "Aftercare", you'll find it also includes ones such as "Praise", "Oral", "Biting" and a little bit of "Dirty Talk".

Hey everyone, here's my second and last contribution to Kinktober for this month. Here's a oneshot devoted to the main couple of the Far Cry section of The Silver Chronicles; Silva and Faith as you've probably guessed. From the mature tag and the title you can probably already tell that this oneshot (which will also be uploaded onto my AO3 as well) contains explicitly sexual content meant for 18+ users only. Minors Do Not Interact!

Here's a few warnings as to what this oneshot contains:

CW: Shameless smut, Minor angst, Cunnilingus, slight vaginal fingering, slight teasing, stroking a dick to erection (I don't think a handjob necessarily fits the context because Faith doesn't let Silva cum), P in V sex, unprotected sex, gentle sex, creampie, Silva's kind of unsubtle breeding kink and both women's obvious praise kinks. Includes a lack of contraceptives here (not the fault of either women, Kamski's flaw was that he thought Silva would be like him, miserable and single (neither words correlate nor share a connotation connection with each other here) and also doesn't take into consideration that majority of people don't think like him) and discussions of (getting) pregnancy. Plus the unspeakable horror of including the vaguest hint of a plot in a smut oneshot.

But also enthusiastic consent!

Okay now for the ONLY two Trigger Warnings: Minor reference to past religious and child abuse. These aren't the center focus of the oneshot and aren't explicit either, but these are something that are at the very least inferred (I hope that's the right word) to during Silva's POV thought process in the beginning, but not during the smut itself. I only make these warnings because it's better to be safe than sorry.

You may also notice Faith is a little different (possibly) personality-wise, and I imagine its because of being influenced by certain characters (like say... Sharky and the Drubmans (mostly Adelaide)) and this is set many months post-game and Collapse, and both she and Silva (plus Azriel) have taken shelter in Silva's prepper bunker, so I imagine at this point a certain level of character growth and change has occurred. I’ve also given a short personal explanation in the tags as well.

Author's Final Edit: I've been working on this nonstop for four weeks, at differing states in mind but refused to leave it unfinished, so apologies in advance if it's not that good or even a little rushed (as you can likely tell it's no longer October) than what I originally planned. Anyway gonna post this now and hope for the best.

I'll be sure to reblog this post with the link to the one that'll be posted on my AO3. Anyway, enjoy the fic under the cut:

Title: This Sweet Leisure

Series: The Silver Chronicles (Far Cry 5)

Character/s: Silva Omar (Deputy OC), Faith Seed, Azriel Omar (mentioned OC), Irene Neon (past referenced OC), Persephone Neon (past referenced OC), Elsa Omar (past referenced OC), Kamski Neon (past referenced OC), Tracey Lader (referenced) and Father Adam Omar (Barely referenced OC and thank the Gods, he's super dead).

Words: 7,734

Quiet moments had never been something Silva thought she could afford to enjoy.

She was familiar with various forms of quiet though. Many of which denied her comfort, including peace, or even leisure.

She had experienced a cold kind of quiet throughout her youth. It was tense and foreboding, a wordless warning hanging over their heads like the ill-omen of a guillotine. The only sounds allowed were the roaring winds of a wrathful blizzard outside and the slight clinking of plates and utensils shared between two quivering hermanas.

She had spent many nights as a child in a quiet that was always too quiet. That was the worst kind of quiet for Silva. Dread left her restless, sleep evaded her like the answers she constantly prayed for, haunted by anticipation as she listened for the recognizable signs of Father's approaching footsteps outside her bedroom door...

But the most familiar quiet she's known would be that of loss and mourning. The moments where silence would replace where there should be joyous laughter, or whispered promises, or the normalcy of conversation.

Where she expected a small form to run around the house once she exited her room, her little one's delighted giggles filling the room as her ginger bangs bounced from her enthused race... she found nothing and the heaviness would weigh down on her heart once more.

She would spend periods lamenting on each and every loss, whether it be family, friends, her amor or her beloved hija.

When trapped in this quiet, her mind would betray her... always following the same maze in the labyrinth of her thoughts, with each memory visited and revisited while she punished herself for the grave inescapable sin of not being strong enough, fast enough, doing enough.

Simply put, the quiet moments remind her of how no matter what, she'll never be enough to keep those she cared for. She found no escape through sleep either; her imagination was often the most cruel.

Punished by constant night terrors, which only grew more frequent from there.

Perhaps that is why she enjoyed the action, those fast-paced minutes that squandered on hours. The wars, the fighting, the very act of survival, the violence she despised, justifying her use of it as necessary and right.

The very same violence that took pieces of her until she was nearly hollow from the high. But at least she couldn't feel anything but the emptiness afterwards... distracted from the grief.

What a twist of fate that, at the end of the very collapse of society, all she could have would be quiet moments. For approximately seven years, she would have to live in the very bunker she had dismissed as a paranoid and needless precaution, even for the likes of Silva herself.

In spite of this, she had kept it well-maintained. At least to honor one of Elsa's lasting gifts to her.

And even though Elsa and Persephone were long gone from her life, Silva would be forever grateful of it since it had saved the last two of her most precious remaining loved ones; Faith and Azriel.

It was a rough few months at first, for herself especially, but they made it work. A routine had been set up, tasks given for each of them, and both Faith and Azriel seemed to have put aside their animosity, for the sake of Silva at least.

Silva, though prohibited from putting too much strain on her muscles, had recovered enough to do the laborious tasks that the other two were unable to do, as well as keep track of their inventory, rationing the power and water they were using, keeping track of the days by making calendars (at least enough so they have a fraction of an idea of when they should leave), keeping the only functional clock left out of Azriel's reach, general cooking and proceeding with Azriel's education (and ensuring her pequeño inventora utilizes the parts they don't need for her machinations).

Usually these tasks were completed with the assistance of both Faith and Azriel.

Faith utilized the knowledge she retained from the Eden's Gate to correctly double-check and correspond with the information Silva gave, as well as support a garden from within the bunker that gave them all fresh fruit and vegetables besides the preservatives, aided Silva in Azriel's education with subjects Silva had less expertise in and was the only person in the bunker with any specialization in medicine, besides Silva's apparently redundant strategy of "ignore the problem until it starts affecting you personally" or "only treat problem when close to the nearest convenient bandage, stitches or medic".

(Silva could admit Faith had a point about her reckless behavior).

Azriel's days were mostly spent assisting Silva, or Faith when the girl chose to stop detesting the other woman. She attended her "classes", whether it be academical or practical, so she'd be as prepared as she could be for whatever was outside the bunker doors.

Azriel's hobby in engineering proved to be handy, with Silva and Faith both stumped on the workings of such a subject despite their reliance on the bunker's generator and water filter.

They'd have their meals together, and would often spend time in the same living space once their tasks were done. When it came to nightly routines, Silva would bathe Azriel herself, and would share her own shower with Faith as to not waste water.

Those moments were strictly kept tame, given Azriel's close proximity from the bedroom and the necessity of the water. However, Silva didn't mind, as she and Faith got to be closer, with hands touching the places neither wanted others to see. Their scars were only for them to admire, neither holding shame nor judgement as they took care of each other.

After cleaning off, Silva would put Azriel to bed in one of the spare bedrooms she had claimed for herself as Faith shut off any non-essential power for the night, before both she and Silva retired to their shared designated master bedroom.

That was where the quiet became more prominent.

It wasn't so bad; sometimes one or both of them would be able to drift off. Other times, sleep would evade them, and they just enjoyed each others company, sharing stories and jokes, their voices barely above a whisper. Often they'd talk about the plans for the next day, perhaps wonder about the future... or even confess their own fears, quelling doubts. A peaceful quiet.

There were few nights when these fears took form as nightmares, interrupting their rests. Such nights were spent comforting the other in an understanding silence, few words exchanged while they found warmth in each other's arms. A comforting quiet.

But those night terrors were becoming far and few as the months passed, and Silva found herself cherishing the quiet as much as she did the time spent with her little family.

Though months passed, there was a slight change from the routine, one night where Silva rediscovered a quiet she hadn't experienced in a long while, and would revisit the following weeks.

Although sexual intimacy wasn't a first for either Silva or Faith, after the Collapse, they prioritized the ensured function of the bunker, recovering from their own physical and mental wounds and Azriel's well-being over their passion. It was the practical thing to do in that situation.

However, so much time had passed since the Collapse had occurred, and though the intimacy they did share was cherished and fulfilling, there was a familiar desire that burned patiently; the want to be connected, the need to be closer, to make the other sing with pleasure, and to share their love and affection through one of the few ways they could.

After Silva tucked Azriel in for the night, she had returned to the master bedroom. Shutting the door behind her, she turned to the sight of Faith awaiting her by the foot of their bed.

Silva shared a soft smile with her amor, making her way over to Faith to give a nightly embrace and kiss before bed.

Faith had stopped Silva with a hand on her chest, green eyes looking deeply into grey as the former herald tried to put her desires into words.

"I want you," she said softly, a noticeable shade of light pink across her face with eyes full of a need that stole Silva's breath away, "Tonight. I want you, and I want to make you feel good."

Silva felt a burst of exhilaration invade her body, her nerves lightened up with renewed enthusiasm. The feeling only increased when Faith delicately held one of Silva's hands and brought it to her soft lips.

The kisses she pressed down onto the faded scarred tissue sent tingling signals throughout Silva's body, a pleased sigh escaping her lips as her cheeks darkened into a blush. Faith gauged Silva's reaction, her gaze anticipating her answer and yet pleading all the same, lips brushing against her sensitive hand.

Silva responded with a loving smile, using her spare hand to cup Faith's face, fingers caressing the skin like light kisses as she brought her own face closer.

"Si," Silva had acceded, connecting their lips, feeling the thrum of Faith's enthused hum. When breaking off the kiss, the former deputy stated, "Under one condition."

Faith visibly wet her lips, tilting her head into Silva's palm as she asked, barely above a whisper, "And what would that be?"

Silva smirked, and Faith waited with bated breath on Silva's response (but if she hadn't been so focused on Silva's answer, she'd notice beloved's grey eyes shined with a flicker of silver), bringing her chapped lips to ghost along Faith's ear, and purred, "I'll make you feel bliss first."

Faith broke into a grin, and wrapped her arms around her lover's neck as both of their desires heightened, lips caught in a dance before Silva took the lead.

While their tongues communed and tasted one another, Silva's hands wandered, brushing over Faith's dress and squeezing at certain areas to bring out those small noises she never gets to hear in any other moment.

She settled both her wandering hands at Faith's hip and culo respectively, giving a squeeze on both that elicited a surprised yelp from her amor, though a giggle soon followed after.

Silva retracted from the kiss as her hands reached the hem of Faith's dress, "Let's get this dress off, mi querida."

Faith only nodded as her hands joined Silva's to slip the dress off from over her head rather smoothly, freeing her perky breasts for only Silva's eyes to see. She pressed her hands onto the skin, how good and warm it felt under her touch. Her thumb grazed over a scar just under Faith's rib cage.

Her attention was deterred however by her amor's impatient fingers unbuttoning her shirt.

Silva followed suit, unbuttoning the rest of her dress shirt and shrugging it off. She reached for the strap of her bra behind her, but Faith ceased her struggle when she pressed her hands onto Silva's clothed breasts.

"Arms up, darling," Faith directed, and Silva saw the glimpse of the herald whose reputation commanded fear and respect from her foes. It sent an exhilarating shiver down the former deputy's body, feeling a twitch in her lower body as she followed her amor's orders.

Faith pulled the undergarment over her lover's head, tossing it away. Silva didn't bother to chide about the messiness, figuring it to be a issue she'll deal with tomorrow. In the mean time, she was too preoccupied with giving Faith's greedy hands access to feeling her swell chest up. She let Faith grope at her breasts, hands wandering all over her exposed upper half. Even in the darkness, Faith accurately pinpointed every faded scar there was on this portion of the Omar woman's body.

From her healed cuts and slashes, to the closed scarring from past bullet wounds, to her shoulders; the left harbored old burns, while the right was less clearer, though the texture of the skin was notably a shade lighter, if only slightly.

Silva hummed from the touches she received, massaging Faith's breasts in return. Faith gaped in pleasure, and Silva jumped at the opportunity to reconnect their lips, tongue inserted back in, this time to dominate.

Faith moaned into Silva's mouth, and the reverberation spurred Silva on. Her hands moved to behind Faith, she pulled the other woman's body against hers, their chests colliding. Faith's hands gripped at Silva's back, pushing herself against her lover to chase after the pleasure of grinding their breasts together.

Silva slowly lead Faith backwards to the bed, letting the foot of the bed buckle Faith's legs into sitting down.

Without hesitation, Faith spread her bare legs to give Silva a peek at the lacy white lingerie underwear, embroidered with a familiar pattern, that she had adorned for this occasion. Silva got the impression that her amor had been planning this for some time.

Silva wouldn't disappoint.

Though that pattern did look familiar-

Flowers. Of course, Silva noted in mild amusement.

Faith closed her legs together and dragged her underwear down, shimmying the flower-patterned lingerie down to her ankles, kicking them off to the floor. She opened her legs once more, displaying her nude, bare self for Silva's eyes to feast upon. The sight made Silva's crotch felt uncomfortably restrictive, but she restrained herself from taking her pants off and making love to Faith there and then.

Silva wanted to draw this out; she wanted Faith to feel the greatest heights of this high until she was fully satiated, as well as for herself too.

Caressing her amor's face, Silva's eyes lingered down to Faith's wet folds awaiting her, the light brown bundle of curling hairs layered at the top, and asked, "May I?"

Faith gave an eager and affirming nod, and Silva descended down to her knees until she was face to face with the younger woman's lower lips. Putting her amor's legs over her shoulders, Silva circled two fingers around her labia to stimulate more wetness and gather it onto her fingers, while her other hand's thumb gently brushed against her clit.

She heard Faith's breath hitch above, which made Silva temporarily halt, her eyes meeting green to wordlessly check on her pareja. Faith met her lover's gaze and returned an assuring nod. Silva took a breath and continued to tease her amor's slick pussy and clit, feeling a tug of pride within herself when she heard a soft airy sigh come from above.

Satisfied with the slickness, she inserted one finger inside, earning her a gasp and small moan from Faith. She massaged her index inside the warm insides before inserting a second finger to join the first, curling and gently twisting both as she proceeded to press a bit firmly on Faith's clit with her thumb.

Spurred on by the sounds of Faith's heavier breathing and soft moans, Silva gave a trail of kisses along both of her thighs, perhaps lightly sucking at the flesh to leave a mark or two where no one but both of them would see.

She carefully twisted her two slick-covered closed fingers to face her and opened them up in a V-shape, spreading her amor's vagina.

Silva leaned closer, breathing in her scent. The pungent tangy musk tinted with a hint of earthy sweetness to it. A floral scent really; not like the acrid sweetness of the Bliss though. That had long since been washed away.

Without wasting another moment, she pressed her tongue flat against Faith's vulva, licking it in a glide upwards until she reaches her clit.

Faith tasted like honey, with a hint of sourness that reminded Silva of yogurt. It was something surprising to discover; how different the taste was. She'd expected a metallic taste and bitterness not unlike coffee when she first went down on Faith, as she had remembered Irene's being, and the few women she had brief relations with holding a similar taste, but had been pleasantly unprepared for the flavor.

She continued to lap up the slickness, proceeding to explore with wide licks that swished around the folds of her amor's vulva, enjoying the sweet little noises she drew out and the feeling of Faith's legs shaking over her shoulders.

Silva hadn't expected Faith to cross her legs to pull her mouth closer, but the Omar woman held no complaints. She focused on flexing her tongue deeper inside, licking every nook and cranny.

Silva felt Faith's hand furl into her dark hair to keep the former deputy where she was, grinding herself against her lover's tongue. Silva hummed her appreciation into her amor's pussy, the vibrating sensation provoking a whimper out of Faith.

Feeling her lover's tongue retracting, Faith almost expressed her dissatisfaction with the lack of contact until Silva's lips enveloped around her swelling clit, lightly sucking as her tongue gently circled around it.

Faith choked out a cry as she felt Silva's two fingers re-enter to massage at her sensitive flesh. Lips parted, her moans didn't escape quietly, though it didn't discourage Silva from her relentless efforts to bring about Faith's high.

Silva heard Faith murmur out words incoherently yet consistently (though that may be due to the thighs squeezed around her head canceling out most noises), though was unable to inquire about it as she felt Faith's legs tense around her.

She had enough time to glance her eyes up to see Faith slightly arch her back before she felt the inner walls of her vagina constrict and spasm.

Silva had half-a-mind to have her mouth open when fluid squirted at her face. She lapped up the sweet sticky fluids as Faith rode her high out.

Leaving soft rewarding kisses around her amor's sensitive flesh and thighs, Silva began crawling up to trail her kisses along Faith's waist and stomach. She peppered her breasts, collarbone and neck with special attention, sucking on the skin to leave little marks.

She kissed along her jaw, face and settled on her lips. Face to face, Silva admired the flushed yet blissful expression that resided on her amor.

Breathing returning to a regular intake, Faith opened her green eyes to gaze into Silva's adoring ones.

"You look so beautiful right now amor," Silva complimented, lightly tucking a loose hair behind Faith's ear.

The Seed woman licked her lips, the smile on her face joined by a light blush from the praise. And though Silva meant what she said, she still had the need to confirm.

"Was that good for you, mi querida?" Silva asked softly, searching for any hint of potential discomfort from the young woman below her. Faith blinked at Silva, maybe touched by the concern, maybe in bafflement at the question. Though she proceeded to bring her head up to rest against Silva's own.

"It was wonderful. You ate me out so well my sweetheart," Faith assured with a pleased sigh. She proceeded to bring her lips to the shell of Silva's ear and whisper, "Now why don't you take those pants off? I can't be the only one naked here."

Silva gave an affirmative nod and obliged to Faith's request. Scooting to the side of bed, she pulled down her loose night pants, kicking them off at her ankles. She went to remove her boxers next, but Faith slipped up behind with wandering and electrifying hands that danced across her front.

Faith peppered light kisses along her neck, and softer ones to her old burn scars, which Silva appreciated. One stray hand palmed over the bulge throbbing against her boxers, massaging the member, earning a shameless moan from Silva.

"You're so good to me, Silva. Always accommodating. Putting my needs before yours," Faith revered warmly, massaging the stretching bulge that began to tent up at her boxers, eliciting a low groan from Silva, while Faith stated, "You're so full of love. And I'm happy to be someone you share it with. Which is why I want to make tonight special for you. To give my own love back to you, in the most intimate act together."

Silva bit at her bottom lip as she felt herself get harder at Faith's words, the kind and adoring words flustering the woman. She felt Faith reach into her boxers to pull out her erect cock. Freed from its confines, Silva didn't try to suppress the moan that rose in her throat when her amor curled one hand at the base and began to pump.

Precum leaked from the tip, and Faith brushed a thumb over it, spreading the slickness around the head. She reached down to gently massage at her scrotum to further tease her lover, receiving a choked yelp that morphed pleased groan. Satisfied with her work, Faith tugged at the boxers, with Silva pulling it down the rest of the way.

"Now for what I promised," Faith purred sultry, intertwining her hand with Silva, leading the compliant woman to crawl further onto the queen bed with her.

With both now bare and their hearts beating with a thrill, Faith took initiative, placing a halting hand onto Silva's chest to halt her approach and lightly push her down backwards.

"Can you sit for me?" Faith requested, flashing sweet honest pearls at her, and Silva nodded affirmatively as she followed suit, sitting down with her legs splayed out, her cock proudly pointed up as Silva's eyes traced ever bit of Faith's body.

She swallowed on nothing, wishing she could count the stars to mark a number down of how much she had been so unbelievably lucky to have not only meeting Faith, but get to be with her. And to keep her and Azriel safe, a small relieved voice spoke up, though it didn't last, You never were able to do that with anyone else.

Silva almost frowned at the thought, and briefly closed her eyes. What happened wasn't my fault. I did all I could in those moments, she reminded herself, defending against the guilt, just as Faith coached her.

She opened her eyes when she felt Faith's hands grasp onto her shoulders, her legs at both sides of her hips. Her wet entrance hovering above Silva's leaking head, though Faith paused as she cupped Silva's face into her hands, the next words she spoke sending a spike of pleasure through her veins, "I want you inside me."

Heart fluttering at the proclamation, Silva wanted nothing more than to obey, to be inside her amada and feel how she clenched around her, to murmur little praises into her skin as she just enjoyed having her amor in her arms. However, through the haze of love and lust, she had a realization, "I don't have condoms. I don't think there are any down here."

"Nor birth control," Faith informed her, green eyes gazing down, and Silva wanted to kick herself for not noticing when she did stock checks, "I checked the infirmary; it just wasn't included amongst the stock."

Silva could take a guess why. The infirmary had been an additional room inserted by Kamski himself without her permission. Though she was grateful now for his foresight, she felt an annoyance towards Kamski's paranoia overstocking the infirmary with supplies for illness, injury, surgery and even birth delivery, but was flippant about her chances of finding a new partner that he was he convinced her contraceptives wouldn't be necessary. By Jannah, why did I listen to him?

She brought a hand over one of Faith's own which still had her face cupped, thumb brushing at the knuckles. While Silva certainly wasn't against the idea of unprotected sex, especially if Faith gave her consent, under normal circumstances there would be a world with safety nets to fall back on if they decided to risk it.

However, they were stuck in a bunker, while luckily stocked for more than three people with food, medicine and other resources, it was without the contraceptives to avoid the high-risk results of the act.

She would love nothing more than to make love to Faith, to be inside her, to join her on the brink of their own bliss and just release. However, she knew of Faith's reservations, not to the act itself, but the potential consequences of said act.

Instead, she suggested, "If you really want to do this, I can try the pulling out, which does comes with risk. But we don't have to, we can do something else..."

Silva quieted down when Faith pressed a finger to her lips, shushing wordlessly. Faith smacked her lips together as she gazed at Silva with sincere affection.

"I appreciate that you're thinking of me, but there's no need to fret, my lotus flower," Faith said with a fond smile, running a hand through Silva's long dark hair, her green eyes full of a devotion Silva's doesn't believe she's seen on her before, not even with Joseph, not this intense and self-assured.

"But I made my mind up about this weeks ago," Faith informed her lover, an adoring smile blessing her face, "I want to feel you. And more importantly, I want you to feel good. I know you personally dislike the condoms. Not only that, but I know you'd rather not pull out. And yet you do those... all for me. And I'm flattered. Which is why tonight, I wanted to do this for you. No contraceptives... even if they ideally should have been optional... and no pulling out either. And whatever comes after this... I'm okay with it."

Silva blinked, not expecting this from Faith. Although she wanted nothing more to accept her words at face value, she still had to make sure, "What about what you told me? I thought you didn't want to risk-"

"I know what I had said. It was something I took time to think about too," Faith acknowledged, but her tone changed to something more impassioned, "But... my time spent with you and Azriel has made me reconsider. I know you. I trust you. Of all the people I was lucky to fall for, I'm glad it's with you. Because you won't abandon me. You'll be with me, through it all."

Faith's hands glided down to behind Silva's head and neck, bringing her beloved's face closer to her chest, adjusting Silva so her ear was to the skin.

"You hear that?" Faith asked above, her heartbeat thumping in a swift measured pace, and Silva only nodded, still a little lost until her amor explained, "That's my excitement at the thought of us giving in for tonight. Of us quivering and trembling in ecstasy, on the toe-curling edge until I milk you dry. That's what I want, but most importantly, I know that's what you want to do."

Silva felt herself burning up; from her head being in Faith's bosom? The lewd description she'd never expect Faith to use (Had she rubbed off on her somehow? The Drubmans and Sharky? Or had she always had this side of her? came the discord of thoughts) until this occasion? Or the admission that she not only knew of Silva's concealed desires, but wishes for her to act on them too?? Perhaps it was a combination, but Silva wasn't entirely sure.

Silva lifted her face to look into Faith's unabashed green eyes, finding no hint of doubt in those beautiful orbs.

"I want this. You want this. And we won't be unprepared," Faith assured, nuzzling her head into the nook of Silva's neck, hands residing at her back, "We have an abundance of supplies with everything needed for a full-term pregnancy, and the infirmary is ridiculously prepared with instructions and instruments ready for when the day comes. I know this is selfish... but I want to make something beautiful with you. To carry the culmination of our love within me. No more holding yourself back... take a leap, love. Put yourself first for once."

Silva chewed at her bottom lip as she felt her cock grow stiffer at the idea of succumbing to her base desires, and to join Faith through a union of their raw bodies, rutting into the warmth of Faith's inner walls until she released herself into her amada's womb, until she was sure Faith was pregnant.

Faith got her attention with a small kiss on the lips, green eyes staring straight into Silva's souls as she said her next words with utmost seriousness.

"I know how I sound, saying all these things to you, but here and now, I want you to understand that ultimately... it's your call, my lotus flower. If you don't want to risk it, I'll respect your decision. You're not obligated to do this, not even for me. I can do something else to have you reach your own high if you'd prefer," Faith offered, one hand reaching down to Silva's hard cock, stroking at the shaft, earning a pleased trill, "If you want to proceed, you already know I'm all for it. If you don't, I'll be happy with whatever decision you make. It's up to you."

Silva was grateful that Faith was willing to wait for her consent. She took the opportunity to think about it. She found Faith's points to be valid; they had an infirmary with information and instruments at the ready, the bunker was well-supplied, Silva has the experience to take care of Faith and their not-yet conceived child, she knows Azriel would be thrilled for a sibling and she had Faith's approval. Hell, she wanted to do it.

I want to do it, Silva realized, an anxious energy buzzing within her, I want to have a child with her.

Silva met Faith's gaze once more. Her bright grey eyes scanned Faith's green, and her hands moved up to rest on her amor's waist as she said, "I want to do it."

Faith's eyes blew open, delight filling her face, "Really? You mean it?"

Silva gave Faith a smirk that sent a shiver of exhilaration up the other woman's spine, "Si. Now mi amor, how do you like the sound of me cumming into you tonight?"

Faith's only response was a resounding, "Yes."

With a gentle tap from Silva, Faith proceeded to lower herself until her entrance met Silva's tip, grinding their sex together, the sensation causing Silva to gasp agape while Faith husked out a wanton groan.

Silva couldn't deny her own heart's elation at the feeling of Faith's slickness making contact with her own precum, mixing and leaking down her shaft.

Faith sunk until she enveloped the head of Silva's cock. The former deputy groaned at the sensation of Faith adjusting to her, her walls stretching and clenching around her. Faith masked her own moan as a pleased hum, hand bringing Silva's head to her collarbone.

Silva planted more kisses and small bites to decorate her skin as she delicately maneuvered Faith past her cock's head and down the shaft. Her amada rocked tenderly, rasping out breathy, needy moans as Silva's cock stretched her pussy.

Both women's breath hitched when Faith reached the base of Silva's cock, the latter once again adjusting to the former. For Faith, it felt warmer, and she felt fuller with Silva inside compared to when she wore the condom. Silva could feel her amor's slickness and heat, how she pulsed within her, how wonderful it felt to have Faith's walls clenched around Silva. It felt right.

Both held each other close, until Silva's knees rose up until they were behind Faith's back. She grabbed hold of her amor's legs, gaze bor into her green orbs, a determined look not unlike what Faith saw during the Reaping gracing Silva's features.

"Are you ready?" Silva asked one last time, giving Faith the chance to back out. Faith gave a thrilled, "Yes", her green eyes begging for more. Silva proceeded to ask, "You remember what word to use if things get too much for you?"

Faith nodded once more, recounting, "Tulip."

Silva gave a confirming nod, "That's right. Buena chica. Now stretch out your legs and lay back for me, mi amor."

Faith did as instructed, stretching her legs out and, with Silva's guidance, she locked them around Silva's waist. Faith proceeded to lean back onto the support of Silva's thighs.

Silva hooked one hand under Faith's culo, giving it a teasing squeeze as she leaned forward to bring her other arm around Faith's back. The former herald hooked one hand at the nape of Silva's neck while her other gave herself some support from behind, grasping onto Silva's leg to anchor herself.

She gave Silva an affirming nod to go ahead, and Silva tested the waters with a small thrust with a rock of her hips. Faith gasped out a lewd noise, and with another thrust, she let out a pleased hum at the contact, and as Silva thrust again and again at a steady pace, Faith began to pant out long, wanton moans while Silva breathed out grunts and husked out her own impassioned moans.

Silva continued to thrust into Faith as her amada continued meeting her thrusts with enthusiastic rocks, the wet sound of skin slapping against each other all that filled the room.

"You feel so good," Silva murmured in a drawl, and as she rocked her hips up into Faith's slick velvet walls, she let out a surprising growl, "Mierda, you're coño's perfect for me, Faith. I need to fill you up... I need to get you pregnant."

Faith let out an enthused titter, her gut recoiling with warmth like the hammer of a gun, and she teased, "Yeah? Is that what you're going to do, my lotus flower? Rut into my bare, unprotected pussy raw until you cum? Spill all your seed into my empty womb until I'm all nice and full? That's fucking hot. You're so sexy whenever you speak your mind. Gets me really wet."

Faith gasped as she felt Silva's thrusts quicken in pace, causing her body to rock from the jerky movement. Though Faith was not displeased by the change as her content moans and her sweet gaping features indicated.

Images flashed within Silva's mind while her sharp eyes lingered on Faith; the flat of her stomach swollen with life for Silva to cherish both with the hold of one hand. Her bouncing breasts full of milk, perhaps more swell and more sensitive than before. Silva was also fascinated by what Faith's stretch marks would look like, during and after the pregnancy, the beautiful markings long-lasting evidence of their joyous union. She remembered only briefly being able to admire Irene's post-birth marks a few days after Persephone was born.

Silva could feel herself reaching her end, she knew in the way her breathing grew strained, and her cock became stiffer and hotter. It was a familiar sensation, but here it was special, as nothing was stopping her from filling Faith up fully now.

"Faith, look at me, querida," Silva drew Faith's green eyes to retain direct contact with her grey, "That's good, mi amor. I'm glad to see your beautiful face. This is a moment in our bond I want to last. I'm close. I'm so close now. I'm going to cum inside you. And I'm going to get you pregnant. I want to hear you tell me you want it. I need to hear it."

So close to coming undone, Faith refrained from breaking their shared contact as she husked out, "I want this. I want to feel you cum inside me. I want to be full with your seed. I want to be pregnant with your child. I want all of you, Silva."

Silva felt herself tighten and her resolve to hold on break. With little strength, she wrapped her arms around Faith as her amada tightened her legs around Silva's waist, both pulled their sweaty bodies close to each other. Both clung to one another as the only lifeline, as Silva gave one last rock of her hips and their sexes spasm.

Faith's walls constricted and clamped around her cock in a creamy coat and milk up all that she unloaded inside. Faith wailed out a moan while Silva shouted in ecstasy. She gave a sparse few weaker thrusts, and felt Faith's walls throb followed by her amor cumming once more.

Both refrained from separating, catching their breaths within each other's arms, fingers playing with hair, breasts pressed against each other from each heave of their chests, basking in each other's mind-buzzing afterglow.

The embrace lasted until Silva lightly pressed a kiss on Faith's soft lips before she removed herself out of Faith, her member deflating and spent for the night. She laid Faith down on the blanket of the bed, who was recovering from the intense pleasure she experienced twice. With limbs still interlocked, she laid beside Faith's prone form.

"Thank you," Silva told Faith, the latter humming in question, dreariness weighing on her half-lidded eyes, so Silva elaborated, "For this. For letting me hold you, and kiss you, and taste you, and... make love. You made me feel so good. Tonight was just perfect."

Faith giggled, green eyes gazing into Silva's grey with adoration, "Of course, honey. You did amazingly too. I noticed you had a lot more enthused determination. Not that you hadn't before but... there was a more primal feel. I liked it."

Silva felt her face heat up from Faith's appraisal, feeling her cock twitch. It hadn't gone unnoticed by her amor; Faith bit at her bottom lip as she commented, "And with our new goal, we'll be doing this again for the next few nights, I'd hope."

Silva felt an excitement burn at the thought of doing this again, though it reminded her of some things she should do to help.

"I'll need to go get a new blanket from the linen cupboard since..." Silva trailed off as she looked at the damp spot, "...yeah. But in the meantime, we should have your pelvis raised a little higher to increase the chances of conception."

Silva couldn't recall where she gained that information from; whether it had been something Kamski had somehow brought up in conversation for whatever reason or something she had learned while reading for any information from the old medical textbooks they could scavenge to help Irene during her pregnancy with her firstborn.

Regardless, Silva grasped a pillow and placed it underneath Faith's lower back, to raise her hips slightly above. Satisfied, Silva asked, "While I'm out, is there anything you need? Snacks? Water? A cloth to clean up?"

Faith shook her head, but made a small grunt as she tried to clear her coarse throat, "Water, please."

Silva gave a smile, caressing her amada's face before getting off the bed, "I'll be back in a jiff, mi amor."

Silva peeked out of the room, searching for any signs of the familiar orange-streak across the dark hair of her hija, hoping she was still asleep in her bed and not awoken by the noise, even if their rooms were fairly dense.

Spotting no signs of her fellow night owl, Silva exited the room, and made her way to the linen cupboard for the new blanket, and then dashed to the kitchen to get Faith's water.

With the glass filled and blanket over her shoulder, she made haste back to the master bedroom.

Closing the door behind her, she made her way back to Faith back on the bed. She placed the blanket down by the foot of the bed while taking the chance to admire her nude form. Though she noticed how Faith's hand was placed below her stomach, lost in thought.

Silva got onto the bed with a creak, breaking her amor's attention train of though and bringing her attention back to her.

Offering a smile, Silva didn't immediately inquire, instead tapping the glass of water, which earned her a soft gaze of appreciation.

She helped Faith lean up from the bed, and passed the glass of water to her. Once her amor's throat was satisfied, Silva had Faith temporarily hop off the bed so she could remove the ruined blanket (which she placed by the door for tomorrow) and laid down the newer, softer blanket.

Once the bed was ready, both Silva and Faith crawled back onto the bed, huddling close. Neither put back on their nightwear.

Silva brushed her fingers through Faith's light brown hair with enthusiasm and adoration in her heart. Faith snuggled into the crook of her neck, one finger tracing aimlessly at Silva's back.

"Are you alright, amor?" Silva asked softly, concern rearing its head once more, though she had a fraction of an idea of what Faith would be thinking about.

Faith glanced her green eyes up at her, briefly holding contact before she nodded.

"Just thinking?" Silva pried gently, observing how her face made those little quirks, subtle twitches, halting furrows and the way her lips open partially before closing again.

Faith responded with a small and affirming hum. The vibration's contact against her skin, although short, eased her hammering heart.

"Want to talk about it?" She finally asked, swallowing any remaining nerves as she discerned Faith's expression towards the question. Does she have any regrets? came the question she was worried for the answer of.

Faith hadn't replied immediately, stewing in the silence as she gathered her words, and said, "I'm just... coming to terms with this. Wondering... maybe a little worried. I've made quite the spontaneous decision, no different than what I've done before."

From the top of her head, Silva could only recall three that she could be referring to; leaving home with Tracey, joining Eden's Gate and helping Silva and Azriel in their goals.

"Are you having... regrets?" Silva asked hesitantly, but knew it was important.

She was a little surprised when Faith snorted incredulously at it.

"No... not that at all. It's a choice I'm not backing down from," she answered fully looking up to her, bringing one hand to cup the side of Silva's face with tender affection, slowly nuzzling their foreheads together, "I'm just a little nervous is all. This is a new and rather big step I would never have considered in my life before meeting you and Azriel. But it is something I want to experience, as long as you're with me."

Relief flooded Silva's mind, washing away any lingering presence of the ugly guilt that tried to form.

"Besides, I liked tonight as much as you did. And I loved how you were too," Faith said as she "walked" two fingers all the way up Silva's chest to her lips, seductively brushing both over her lover's bottom lip as she leaned forward with a whisper, "And I'd hope to see more of that side of you last a few rounds in the night to come."

Silva joined her lips with her amor's, an unbridled smile curving up once again. I've been doing that a lot more recently, she noted, in spite of the sorrow she still feels for the loss of the world above.

Though that's not something she'd focus on as of now. She had better priorities she needed to attend to.

Disconnecting their lips, Silva replied, "I'll let you hold me to those words. In the meantime... want to just snuggle until sleep takes us?"

"Yeah," Faith snickered, eyes drooping lower as she cuddled closer into Silva, "I won't refuse such an offer like that."

Silva wrapped her arms further around Faith, as she just cherished this moment of holding onto her amada diente de león.

Faith dozed off first, and though Silva was not far behind her, within the dark of their room, she whispered into Faith's hair, "We're going to be okay. I promise, mi amor."

With nothing else to say until tomorrow, she let out a content sigh as she dragged the soft blanket over their exposed bodies, and sunk into Faith's slumbering embrace. Finally finding a quiet to look forward to.

[A/n] Finally it's over. I can move on to the tag stuff I've missed.

[Skit #1: Faith: "How might Azriel take the news of a possible new sibling?" Silva: "I wouldn't worry about it. She'd probably be more thrilled at finally being taller than someone for once."]

[Skit #2: Kamski: "Alright I've installed a functioning infirmary into your doomsday bunker in the scenario we'd have to bunk together during a disaster." Silva: "...Not thrilled but ok." Kamski: "It's prepared for injuries, illnesses, surgeries and any pregnancies in the unlikely case we have others bunk with us." Silva: "That sounds good and all, but what about contraceptives?" Kamski: "Don't be ridiculous Silva... no one's stupid enough to fuck in a bunker during a disaster and neither of us are getting lucky enought to change our single status any time soon." Silva: "Hurtful but sounds legit." Years later... Silva: "Once I die, Kamski when I get my hands on you, you motherfu-"]

#series: the silver chronicles #fic: this sweet leisure #far cry 5 #far cry new dawn #kinktober 2024 #oc: silva omar #faith seed #otp: boa lurking in the bliss #oc: azriel omar #reiterating from my last smut post I'm not the biggest smut writer #not my best writing either as this was a four week project i've been working on and at varying points of capacity to mentally process shit #so a lot of this may be rubbish or even ooc (even for my tastes)#post-fc5 but pre-fcnd #post-collapse but within the bunker years #not much to say other than silva's got an ungodly level of self-control over her breeding kink if she was willing to have one kid with fait #(not excluding azriel here but she's adopted by silva while mercy was conceived between silva and faith as you potentially witnessed)#also yes I am aware of faith’s canon… opinion (is putting it lightly it was detestment) on babies #I even vaguely inferred to it and her probable views on her own thoughts on the idea of getting pregnant here #so I’ve attempted to go around that and say “love makes you do things you normally wouldn’t for your partner”#and “missing a fic’s worth lot of background context for this oneshot” because that’s the only solution I could think of #I really was just banging my head on my desk before I said “fuck it”#and straight up went “she loves and trusts silva that much at this point that she was willing to reflect on her prev views #and take a leap of faith towards something big new and kind of scary but with someone she knew wouldn’t let her down nor do it alone”#the major themes of this series is “love” and “change” so I guess that checks out

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andiwriteordie · 2 years ago

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mike has an asthma attack! will is there! you have free reign BUT mike must be wearing glasses bc he does not have working lungs OR eyes. ❤️

LISTEN EVERYONE. ASTHMATIC MIKE WHEELER WITH GLASSES IS SO REAL TO ME. THANK YOU FOR INDULGING THIS HEADCANON THEA. ILY.

say hi to mike wheeler being a nerdy little loser in love in this little modern college au!

—

so in love that i might stop breathing

This was a bad idea.

No like… seriously, this was a bad idea, and Mike can practically hear the sound of his roommates’ laughter in the back of his mind. God, Max and Dustin are never going to let him live this down, are they? No, they’re definitely not, because they’re both a couple of jackasses who thrive off of making Mike’s life miserable. Every day, he asks himself why the hell he’s still best friends with them.

…

Whatever. In this case, they were most definitely right, even though Mike insisted that they would not be.

And that is exactly why Mike Wheeler is currently jogging at his local park and trying not to… oh, you know… die and stuff.

There are a lot of things going wrong, and suddenly, Mike is reminded of why he nearly failed high school a few years ago, despite having pretty decent grades. Fucking gym class was nearly the death of him—like… actually. Yeah, tenth grade Mike had to run the mile and (very stupidly) forgot his inhaler in his locker on the other side of the building. He may or may not have had an asthma attack out on the field. Max may or may not have yelled at a lot of people while Dustin sprinted to grab Mike’s inhaler.

…

They’re not here to bail him out this time, so that’s rather unfortunate. But hey, Mike does have his rescue inhaler this time—not that it’ll do much good, since he’s already taken it and technically shouldn’t take it again for another couple hours, according to the instructions. And honestly, that sucks because Mike has been running for the last fifteen minutes, and his chest feels all tight and itchy and gross.

Not only that, but Mike is fucking sweating. It’s nearly the end of September, and they live in fucking Chicago, so why is it nearly 80 degrees outside? Climate change is fucking real, and it’s going to be the death of him. His face is all sweaty and disgusting, and his glasses are most definitely fogged up and about to fall off his damn face. It’s great. Really, really great.

And of course—of fucking course—the cherry on top of the cake is that he is here.

Yeah.

The most gorgeous guy Mike has ever seen in his life is here at the park, like he always is and like Mike expected him to be. He’s running laps like normal and wearing those stupid short shorts that Mike knows the track guys at school wear, and Jesus, Mike is so gay. He’s so fucking gay, and honest to God, he’s going to get distracted and trip over his fucking shoelaces because this guy is just so gorgeous.

And Mike doesn’t know what the hell he was thinking, honestly. He’d just gotten some stupid idea last night when he was a little tipsy and had decided that the best way to get the attention of Gorgeous Runner Guy was to, in fact, become a Gorgeous Runner Guy himself.

…

It’s not working.

Yeah, there’s no way in hell that Mike looks like a Gorgeous Runner Guy, because he’s over here gasping for air, struggling to finish the lap around the track, and sweating like he’s a prepubescent boy. Definitely not the best way to catch the attention of the gorgeous guy he’s been trying to work up the courage to talk to for the past month, so Mike thinks it’s probably just time to cut his losses and go sit down before he actually collapses on the ground and has an asthma attack or something.

(Dear God, imagine if he actually stopped breathing or some shit like that and Gorgeous Runner Guy had to give him mouth-to-mouth. Mike thinks he’d rather just die at that point.)

Once Mike finally makes it around the track, he walks over to the nearby bench, fighting the urge to just completely collapse onto it. His legs feel like jelly, and the water bottle Max had insisted he take this morning is already empty. His chest still feels all tight, and his pride definitely feels wounded. The walk of shame into his apartment is not going to be a fun ordeal, so as Mike sits down on the bench, he closes his eyes and tries to think through his roommates’ schedule.

Okay, so Dustin definitely has class today, so he shouldn’t be there. That’s good. Max should be going to work soon, so if Mike can hold out a little bit longer, he should be able to avoid her too. In the end, their teasing is inevitable, but Mike would really prefer to keep some of his dignity in tact and not let his best friends see him like this—

“Um, excuse me?”

Mike flinches sharply, and he opens his eyes, and hoooooly shit, holy shit, holy shit.

It’s Gorgeous Runner Guy.

Gorgeous Runner Guy smiles shyly, and he glances at the empty space on the bench next to Mike. “Um… do you mind if I sit with you?” he asks, a little bit breathless. “I, um… I just wanted to take a break, you know?”

Yes, yes, yes, and while you’re at it, do you want to marry me? the literally fucking insane part of Mike’s mind answers.

Mike, fortunately, does not say that aloud. Instead, he just nods hastily and scoots over, patting the bench. “Y-yeah,” he says breathlessly. “Of course.”

Gorgeous Runner Guy flashes another smile at him, and he takes a seat next to Mike. He’s close enough now that Mike can feel his warmth—or honestly, that must just be the stupid, fucking 80 degree weather. It could also be the fact that Mike is sweating. A lot.

“I’m Will, by the way,” Gorgeous Runner Guy introduces, turning to Mike and smiling, and God, did Mike mention how gorgeous he is? Because he is. He’s gorgeous.

Oh. And his name is Will.

Will’s gorgeous.

“I… I’m gorgeous,” Mike says, and as soon as the words are out of his mouth, he catches the slip up. “Shit, no, that’s not what I meant! I mean, you… you’re gorgeous.. Wait, shit, I didn’t mean to say that either; um, shit, sorry. I’m… I’m Mike.”

(Once again, Mike can practically hear Max and Dustin laughing at him. And once again, he definitely deserves it.)

A surprised look forms on Will’s face, and his cheeks get a little bit rosier. He glances away for a moment, then looks back at Mike and shrugs. “I mean… you are,” he points out, a flirty smile forming on his face, and oh.

Oh.

Warmth rises to Mike’s cheeks, and he stares back at Gorgeous Runner Guy—er, Will—in surprise. “You… you’re joking right?” he asks in disbelief.

Will just laughs, soft and sweet. “I’m not joking unless you are,” he says, a bit shyer now. “Are you joking?”

“No, no,” Mike reassures quickly. “I… I didn’t mean to say that actually, but… but I meant it.”

He pauses, wincing slightly. “Sorry,” Mike adds. “This is so not what I had in mind when I imagined talking to you for the first time.”

“It’s cool,” Will promises with another little laugh. His eyes crinkle a bit when he smiles, and he shrugs. “Maybe we should just… start over then?”

“Maybe,” Mike says, and as the two of them exchange a smile, he turns to fully face Will now.

“Hi,” Mike introduces softly, holding out his hand for Will to take. “I’m Mike.”

The look on Will’s face softens, and he takes Mike’s hand. His touch is electric, and Mike’s breath catches—no surprise there. Something about Will has always taken his breath away.

“I’m Will,” Will replies, his voice just as soft. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

#andi's asks #byler #byler ficlet #guys this one made me giggle so much #this was so fun thank you thea #andi writes not dies #byler au

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bejeweledblondie · 1 year ago

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Hello! God, I recently found your blog and I love it!!! I'm also a big Taylor fan and I've had this idea in mind! You are free to do it [or not do it] and modify it!

Based on *All too Well*

I was thinking of one of these guys

Jonh Price / Köing/ Ghost/ Philip Graves

"You kept me like a secret and I kept it like an oath"

"But you keep my old scarf from that very first week' Cause it reminds you of innocence And it smells like me"

And maybe we got lost in translationMaybe I asked for too much"

I love the song and I can't stop thinking about them!!!

-🌙

Hello! So happy you’re enjoying the blog! No joke I had this sitting in my drafts debating on whether or not to post it! I lost my voice last Friday SCREAMING “All Too Well” in the theater. Even if you’re not a swiftie it’s just a lyrical masterpiece

All to Well 🧣

Captain John Price x F! Reader

Summary: Based on the ten minute version of All Too Well, John has to face what he had done to his beloved red scarf & all

Warnings: cheating, John being a dick, the usual

“And maybe we got lost in translation maybe I asked for too much, maybe this thing was a master piece before you tore it all up”

Heels in hand Y/N sat on the steps of the hotel where the military ball she was attending with John was being held. She was sobbing her eyes out into her hands. While trying to figure out where he wandered off to, she stumbled across him & his secretary having sex in a bathroom stall. He had told her not to worry about her, but her intuition told her otherwise. These past few months had been excruciatingly difficult. He spent his time home out late, leave her to sit by the front door waiting for him to return. Shallow excuses coming from him over the phone had made her cry herself to sleep one too many times. The sickening smell of his secretary’s perfume lingered on him when he’d come home, & yet he gaslighted her into believing otherwise.

She stood up as she saw the Uber she had called for pull up in front of the hotel. John was adjusting his dress uniform bow tie while running towards the doors to intercept her. Other officers looked at him confused as he sped past them. His secretary Camille wasn’t too far behind him calling his name. Y/N turned her head back when she heard him calling her name. With haste she closed the door to the Uber & ordered the driver to speed away. John was left standing on the sidewalk watching her go. He let out an annoyed sigh & turned around to see his team at the doors. Laswell looking so disappointed in him, & what he had done.

It had been months since Y/N moved out. Contrary to the rumors, Camille didn’t move in with the Captain. She was swiftly fired from her position, & was forced out of the contracting community. Laswell made sure of that. No, John was forced to live with the ghosts of his past lover. Just last week he found the red scarf that she adored hidden in a couch cushion. He inhaled the scent of the red wool trying to remember what her perfume smelled like.

Kyle was deeply concerned for his superiors mental health ever since he ended his relationship so they decided to go to the local pub. After a quick shower & shave he got dressed. He grabbed his jacket off of the rack. The red wool scarf hung beside it taunting him of his mistake. He grabbed it & put it on before leaving. Simon greeted him at the door & they all got a round then headed back to a table in the back corner. He was starting to feel himself go back to happy self before he ended things with Y/N. That was until she walked in with a couple of friends.

They locked eyes, & there was shift in the air. It felt tense. Simon picked it up on the body language shift in his Captain. He followed John’s gaze & sighed as soon as his spotted her. She looked equally as emotionally distressed.

“Talk to her,” Simon said. “You look absolutely fucking miserable Price, & you two have a lot to fix.” Price looked at Simon knowing he was right, this was his mistake he needed to fix. He reluctantly stood up & wiped his hands on his jeans. Her friend Este, stopped mid sentence to glare at the bearded man. She turned around knowing it was coming sooner rather then later.

“Let’s get this over with.” She sighed following him out to the street. You both sat on a bench only a few shops down from the pub. John had planned thousands of things to say to you but now he was speechless.

“What do you want John?” She asked looking at him. “Did we get lost in translation, did I ask for too much?” She spat. Embarrassment & shame turned his cheeks crimson red.

“I wanted to talk.” He simply stated. “I was a fucking selfish prick.”

“I’ll say.” You scoffed. “I swear all you men have the fucking audacity I swear.”

“I don’t disagree.” He replied in agreement. “Listen, I’m in a new hell Y/N.”

“You don’t think I am?” She cried out. “What we had was a masterpiece John before you tore it all up.”

“And I was a fucking idiot.” John said.

“You told me if we had been closer in age, maybe we would’ve been fine.” She stated. “God I still do love you dearly, John. But how can I make sure you won’t break me like a promise?” He took the red wool that lingered of her vanilla fragrance & placed it around her neck.

“Because instead of mailing your things to you, I kept a whole drawer of memories you left behind hoping you’d return to me. You’re the only real thing I’ve ever known.” He replied honestly. She was taken a back he kept even the littlest things she left, from hair pins to the red scarf. Anything to still have a piece of her. He placed a hand on her now flushed cheek. The bitter cold London air started to nip at their exposed skin. Little flecks of white glistened as it started to fall from the sky. The first snow of the winter season. He grabbed her waist & pulled her in for a deep kiss. After they both pulled away they sat in the moment to remember it all too well.

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prismaticpichu · 11 months ago

Text

‘Ello!

Brain has completely kicked me in the butt the past few days/week. I tend to call it emotional paralysis, heh, when my body and mind just literally give out on me. Couldn’t make it to class a few days, fell behind on work. Been a bit of a struggle to catch up, but I’ve finally and fortunately been getting my footing again. Brain’s finally putting on some band-aids, thank God.

Always keep fighting, folks. We can’t give up. Never. We got lives to live and we gotta live them. Sometimes days are hard, sometimes they suck and leave us aching and miserable. But the truth is that they pass. And if it is a bad week, that bad week will pass. If it is a bad month, it will pass. Just take it one day at a time. Focus on the small things, the small achievements. Take it hour by hour if you have to. Class by class, shift by shift- whatever you need to do. Because you know what? Getting through the day…? That’s an achievement. That is strength. And you are so much stronger than you think you are.

I don’t like to be too down here tho! That ain’t the vibes I want for this lil blog. So with that said, I hope y’all are having an absolutely amazing week so far <333 Am happy to report that I have written ~12K words in the past 3-4 days! Wooooo! Got a couple tests this week but then it’s HOLIDAY BREAK, PEOPLES!! ❤️

Will resume normal FF7 stupidity soon! Until then, wishing nothing but good vibes and a fantastic rest of your week!

#updates #mental health #life of pi #chu #<33333 #keep fighting friends #you got this

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autism-swagger · 1 year ago

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i hate you for what you did (and i miss you like a little kid)

It’s moments like these that Tara misses Sam the most. Everything would be better if Sam were around. She’d pay the bills, she’d make sure Tara was fed, she’d love him like their mother was never willing to. Sam wouldn’t have let Tara get hurt in the first place.

But Sam isn’t here.

(Nobody is going to help.)

5 times Tara misses Sam while in the hospital + 1 time she doesn't have to.

3,095 words of Tara having an awful awful awful life. And then getting a hug at the end.

Trigger warnings: suicide attempt, child abuse, abusive relationships, authority figures being awful at their jobs, brief mention of implied past sexual assault/harassment

—

Age 15

—

Just this once, Tara wishes Amber wasn't the way she is.

If Amber were any less overbearing protective, she wouldn't have climbed through Tara's bedroom window, angry about her texts going unanswered.

(Amber never did like being ignored.)

He knows she’s pissed at him, but what else could he do? How can he be expected to keep going on like this?

Sam is gone .

She left.

She packed up her belongings and left everything behind without so much as a goodbye.

It’s been three months now, and Tara feels disconnected from everything. None of this is real, she’s sure of it.

How could Sam just leave her behind?

She left.

And Tara is still here.

So, three days after her 15th birthday, she swallowed a bottle of sleeping pills, followed by one of her mom’s beers.

She didn’t anticipate Amber wanting to hang out.

They pumped her stomach. Her throat hurts from the tube and her stomach hurts from Amber making her throw up. It’s miserable.

He thinks he hates Amber right now. No, scratch that. He definitely hates Amber right now.

She wishes Amber hadn't found her.

She wishes Amber hadn't called 911.

She wishes Amber just left her to die on that bathroom floor.

She’s alone in the hospital room. She threw things and screamed at Amber until she left.

He wants to cry but he doesn’t have the energy. He wishes it worked.

Everything is awful. Amber probably hates her now. Her mom is never home. There’s barely any food left in the house.

Sam is gone.

There’s nothing to keep going for.

—

Age 16

—

Tara isn't quite sure what he did to make his mom's boyfriend so angry. She doesn't even know the guy's name, for god’s sake.

(It's not the first time something like this has happened. It won't be the last.)

They're in a different hospital than the one she normally goes to. It's a couple counties away, to avoid the staff asking questions. You can only have so many “accidents” before people start to get suspicious.

“Transverse radius and ulna fractures,” the way-too-cheery-for-this-time-of-night nurse had told him, “they’re commonly caused by falls like the one you had. You sure are lucky your mom found you when she got home!”

Right. Lucky.

The story they’re going with this time is that Tara slipped and fell down the stairs while home alone, only to be found by her mom when she got home from work. It’s not true, obviously. Tara’s not sure if her mom even has a job right now. She was there. She watched it happen.

(She sat and did nothing while Tara begged and pleaded for her mom to help, just this once please mom please–)

They’re keeping her for observation overnight, just in case. Her mom is long gone, having only stuck around long enough to drop her off.

It’s fine though. That’s just their routine. Tara gets hurt, Christina reluctantly drives her to the hospital, and they both pretend like nothing is wrong. Everyone is happy and everything is fine .

(Tara wishes the hospital staff would ask more questions. He’s so tired of all of this.)

Looking at the cast on his arm, he starts to panic. How is he supposed to pay for all of this? Tara has a shitty minimum wage job and a couple hundred bucks in her get-out-of-Woodsboro fund. That’s not nearly enough to pay for all of this. She did the math, a broken arm costs upwards of $2,500. Christina’s last job provided insurance, but she just had to go and get herself fired.

The buzz and chime of her phone snaps her out of her spiral. When she checks it, she sees a text from her shift manager:

James called out for tomorrow. We need you to cover his shift in addition to yours. You’d get paid overtime.

His heart sinks at the thought of a double shift, really of working at all , tomorrow, but what other choice does he have? Who else is going to pay for this?

(Some small part inside of her rages and weeps at the unfairness of it all. The Amber-Christina part tells her she deserves it.)

But Sam isn’t here.

(Nobody is going to help.)

It’s hard to type with one hand, but Tara manages.

I’ll be there.

—

Age 17

—

There are rules.

In the Carpenter household, that is. There are rules to follow if you want to stay uninjured and safe. They go unspoken, but Tara has them all memorized.

Don’t talk about dad.

Definitely don’t talk about Sam.

Don’t complain.

Tara is exceptional at following them. She keeps her head down and her mouth shut at home, never so much as rolling her eyes or looking sad. It doesn’t really make a difference either way, Christina always finds some excuse to get upset, but still. It’s the principle of it all, he supposes.

(Some small part of her hopes that if she just keeps following the rules, it’ll all turn out okay. Maybe her mom will finally love her. Maybe Sam will finally come back.)

Of course, she had to go and fuck up the most important rule: stay away from mom when she’s drunk.

He was just trying to tell her that his teachers and principal had requested to meet with her. He didn’t see the bottle until it was too late.

So. Here Tara is. Waiting to get her left eyebrow stitched up at urgent care.

A wine glass to the face will do that to you.

They didn’t even ask any questions this time. Just handed her the intake paperwork, directed her to a room, and told her when the doctor would be in.

Not for the first time, Tara questions the professionalism of the officials in this town. Is nobody even a little bit suspicious? Surely it’s weird for one person to get in this many “accidents.”

(Do they all know? Do they just not care?)

The room is cold. They always are. It makes the warmth of the blood almost painful in comparison. The entire left side of her face is throbbing, even with the icepack and painkillers. She can already feel a black eye forming.

Tara wishes Sam were here.

Tara always wishes Sam were here.

Sam would’ve reminded her to keep away from mom. She was the one to come up with the rule in the first place.

But Sam isn’t here.

She’ll never be here again.

Sometimes he gets so angry at her he can’t breathe. For leaving. For being absent long before she was gone. For a lot of things.

It’s not fair, Tara thinks, in his darkest moments where he’s just so resentful that it scares him, that Sam is the one who made it out. Why did she get to be the one to leave?

Sam was a burnout drug addict who just barely graduated high school and would probably never amount to anything.

Tara is good. She makes decent grades and she plays piano and she babysits on the weekends. She never complains. She doesn’t talk back. She’s good and quiet and does what she’s supposed to.

And yet he’s the one who’s still trapped in this town.

He was born here and he’s going to die here. By his own hand or his mother’s or some creep in a costume.

That’s how it was always going to be.

—

Age 18

—

“It was an accident while we were cooking! She tripped while I was holding a kitchen knife. Tara, I'm so sorry! You know I'd never hurt you on purpose.” Amber directs the last part to Tara, instead of the doctor stitching up the gash on his left arm.

Tara says nothing in return. Just nods.

She doesn't want to make things worse for herself than they already are. Even now, hours later, he can still see the quiet rage behind Amber's eyes. If he just keeps quiet, then Amber won’t get more upset with him than she already is.

It’s Tara’s fault. Really, it is. Amber is still around. She puts up with Tara when no one else will. He should be more grateful. Instead, he just focuses on the past, on people who did nothing but hurt him.

Amber found the box of Sam’s belongings Tara kept under his bed.

(He knows that she would’ve had to have been going through his room to find it. He shouldn’t be keeping secrets from her anyways.)

She’s not supposed to think about Sam. Sam left her behind, so she’s supposed to forget about her. Sam didn’t love him like Amber does. Nobody loves him like Amber does. It’s why they all leave. She makes them leave. She’s just too hard to love.

That’s what Amber says anyways.

“All done! You should be more careful next time.” The doctor says as she packs up her supplies. “You’re good to go ahead and go home now.”

Tara stays silent as she and Amber make their way out of the hospital, only half paying attention to her friend’s nonstop slew of thank-you-so-much’s and I’m-so-sorry-I-didn’t-mean-to-hurt-you’s.

All pretenses are dropped when they get to the car. The apologetic look on Amber’s face disappears, with no sign that it had been there in the first place. All that remains in anger and indifference. Tara’s heart sinks at the sight of it.

He climbs into the passenger seat, flinching at the slam of the driver’s side door. When she risks a glance to the left, she blanches. Amber is staring straight ahead, jaw clenched and knuckles white on the steering wheel. In other words, she’s furious.

“I’m sorry.” Tara breaks the silence. “I know I shouldn’t have– I’m– I’m really sorry.”

Amber doesn’t respond, doesn’t even react. Just turns the key and pulls out of the parking lot. Five minutes into their drive, Tara tries again.

“Amber, I’m so sorry. I know I should’ve listened to you. I just–”

He cuts himself off, wincing. Amber’s eyes flash with something he can’t name.

“Just what? Are you seriously gonna try and make an excuse right now?” Amber seethes, grip tightening on the wheel.

Tara doesn’t reply, frozen in place like a rabbit spotted by a wolf. Her heart is thundering in her throat. He wonders if Amber can hear it.

“No, seriously. What were you going to say?” Amber continues her rant, steadily increasing in volume. “That you miss her? After everything I do for you? Am I not good enough for you Tara? You think I’m just sooo awful that you’d rather have some heartless bitch who abandoned you instead of me? Maybe I should just leave you too! God knows you make it hard enough to stay!”

She’s yelling at this point, voice filling up the car. Nothing she’s saying is new. None of this is. Tara tries to hold back her tears, afraid of giving Amber more ammunition. It doesn’t work.

“...I’m sorry.” Tara sobs. At the sight of his tears, Amber softens and pulls over. She parks and turns off the car as Tara quietly weeps.

“You know I just want what’s best for you, right? I know it hurts, but you need to hear this Tara. You deserve it.” Amber sighs, wiping away his tears.

(She’s holding his arm right where the stitches are. As she speaks, her grip tightens.)

“...I know.”

—

Age 19

—

Tara can’t feel anything below her neck.

Actually, that’s not quite true. He can still feel the burning agony in his- well, everywhere .

But that’s mostly mental, she knows. She’s so pumped full of opioids she’s surprised she can move.

(Had he been more lucid, Tara would be freaking the fuck out over being given painkillers, especially ones as addictive as opioids. She doesn’t want to turn into Sam her mom.)

Her friends (minus Wes, who’s off doing- something or other. Tara isn’t quite sure) are crowded around her. None of them seem to know what to do with themselves, all of them fretting over everything she does- and doesn't- do. Her drug-addled brain draws the comparison of a flock of neurotic chickens, making her giggle.

An action that is immediately regretted, of course. Laughing is excruciating when you’ve been stabbed in the torso.

Amber snaps to attention from her place at his side when he cries out, worry evident on her face. She grabs onto Tara’s bruised upper arm, making him wince.

“Are you okay? You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?” Amber questions. It’s nice, her concern. She’s not normally this nice about Tara’s pain. He hums in response, leaning his head forward to rest it on Amber’s shoulder as her arms wrap around his shoulders.

(Briefly, Tara entertains the notion that Amber could’ve been the one to do this, but the thought is quickly dismissed. Amber- she wouldn’t- she only hurts Tara when he deserves it. And he doesn’t think he’s done anything to deserve this.)

There’s a quiet knock on the door before Wes lets himself in, phone in hand. Tara can’t think of anything that sounds less appealing than talking (well. Last night was pretty rough), but the look on Wes’s face worries her.

“...w-what’s wrong?” Her voice is quiet and hoarse, vocal cords strained from screaming. Wes looks conflicted, thinking over his words. After a second, he moves to sit next to the bed.

“I don’t know how to– I just–” He sighs, running a hand down his face. “I called Sam. I didn’t think she would answer but she did. She’s on her way. She’ll be here in an hour.”

Tara doesn’t register Amber tensing beside her, doesn’t feel her get up, doesn’t hear the ensuing argument.

Sam is– Sam is coming here?

That– that can’t be right.

Sam wouldn’t just– she wouldn’t– she–

Tara doesn’t know what Sam would do.

Not anymore.

He’s stuck in place, paralyzed by the thoughts spiraling in his brain.

What if Sam never shows up?

What if she does?

What if Sam is the same Sam from five years ago? The Sam who yelled and slammed doors and couldn’t bear to look Tara in the eye?

(Tara doesn’t think he’d be able to handle that. He’d take that damned knife and finish the job himself.)

What if– what if Sam is better? What if she’s happy? What if she’s finally clean? What if the only thing preventing from reaching that point was Tara ?

What if Sam coming back to Woodsboro (coming back to Tara) undoes all of that?

Tara doubles over and throws up.

—

Age 20

—

Tara stares at the ceiling.

It’s a nice ceiling, he thinks, for a hospital at least. Sam laughs when he tells her as much. Rude.

“Fffine.” (God she loves opioids. Why was she so against using them again?) “See ‘f I ever– ever tell you how I feel ‘bout hospital ceilings again.”

Sam laughs. Again. Tara glowers. She could at least try to hold it in.

“How often are you seeing hospital ceilings?” Sam asks, still chuckling.

“Super often. I was in th’ hospital all the time when you were gone.”

Sam’s laughter cuts off. Tara looks over to see her sister sitting up in her chair.

“What do you mean?” There’s a weird look on Sam’s face, one Tara can’t figure out in the state he’s in.

“Got hurt. A lot.” Sam tenses up as Tara speaks.

The fog in his head clears a bit.

Shit. He hadn’t meant to say that.

“How did you– what were some of the injuries?” Sam asks, keeping her tone light.

They’re getting into uncharted territory now. They don’t talk about the years Sam was gone, preferring to dance around the topic.

Tara looks away. “I don’t– it was just minor things. Just– falls and whatnot. Nothing– nothing bad.” Her voice wavers on the last word. Fuck.

Sam is silent for a minute, before– “Tara.”

She can feel the burning pressure building behind her eyes. She desperately tries to keep the tears at bay, but it’s all for naught. Turning away from Sam, he tries again. “It– nothing happened, Sam. I’m fine. Every– everything is fine.” She scrubs at the tears on her face, willing her eyes to dry. It doesn’t work. “Fuck.”

Sam reaches out and lays a hand on Tara’s arm, urging her to turn around.

(Tara has to fight the instinct to pull away. She doesn't like people touching her, not anymore. It reminds her of Frankie's hands and Ethan's words and Amber taking and taking 'til there was nothing left.)

“Tara. Please look at me.” Sam’s voice is soft and gentle. It just makes Tara cry harder. His throat hurts from holding in his sobs.

Tara wishes none of this was happening. She wishes Ghostface was just a villain in a movie and her best friend was still alive and her mom didn’t hate her and her dad was still around and Sam never left and she bled out on the kitchen floor and and and.

Tara turns around.

Sam’s face falls.

“Oh, baby boy.” She breathes, voice full of regret and sorrow and love and a million other things Tara doesn’t deserve.

“...It’s not fair.” Tara cries. “Why– why did– I don’t– why did they hurt me? I loved them and– and they hurt me.”

He doesn’t resist when Sam pulls him into her arms, hand cradling the back of his head. His stitches are pulling and his left arm is in agony but he doesn’t care. Sam’s embrace is warm. He hasn’t been warm since she left.

Tara wails. She’s been holding it in for a long time. Her whole life, she thinks. Sam just hugs him closer to her body.

“Please don’t leave me Sammy pleasepleaseplease don’t leave again please.” He’s barely intelligible at this point, reduced to begging through his sobs.

“I’m not going to leave, I promise. I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying.” Sam whispers into his hair. He’s just barely able to hear her over his weeping. She says it again and again, repeating it the entire time he cries.

Her face is covered in tears and snot and her arm is excruciating and she thinks she popped a stitch but none of it matters.

Sam is here.

—

#EEEEUUAAAAGHHG #somebody take the all lowercase song lyrics in parentheses titles away from me #this one is. rough.#in all senses of the word #Tara tag #horror tag #writing tag #tara carpenter #amber freeman #sam carpenter #scream 5 #scream 6

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