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duckybarnes1917 · 3 years ago

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Don’t Get Cocky

Pairing: Bucky/Female Reader

18+ Only.

First entry for my new smutty one shot collection! All scenes come from my OC story Figure My Heart Out and can be read separately or as a continuous story.

Word count: 2510

Summary: You give Bucky his first blow job.

Need to know: Fluff and Smut. Slightly sub Bucky. Strong language, reader calls Bucky a slut (affectionate) a couple of times. The damn black t-shirt. Oral sex obviously. Pining.

Please do not copy or post this anywhere.

Feedback is always welcome :)

You winced when Bucky loudly entered the house, the door slamming closed behind him as his boots stomped through the entryway. The headache building since meeting Walker that afternoon throbbed with each sound he made.

“Something’s not right about Walker,” Bucky announced, and you swore your head would explode from the volume of his voice.

You sat up from where you were laid out on the couch to shush him but your breath caught in your throat as Bucky ripped his jacket off. The frustration was evident on his face; he looked ready to punch someone, and you assumed that someone was Walker.

You wanted to be concerned about his mental state, but you couldn’t stop ogling him. Bucky rarely wore short-sleeved shirts, and the black one he had on now was at least one size, if not two, too small. You could see the outline of his abs under the thin fabric. Had his arms been that big this whole time?

Your headache slowly melted away as you gawked at him approaching you.

“You don’t say,” Sam snickered from behind his laptop.

“Well, I know a crazy when I see one. Because I am crazy.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

Bucky knelt down in front of you, ignoring Sam’s teasing. “Are you okay?” His eyes swept over your body. “I swear to god if he touched you—"

“I’m fine, Buck,” you whispered, stroking Bucky’s cheek appreciatively.

Bucky looked you over once more before nodding his acceptance. His fingers ran over the gold chain around your neck out of habit; the sun charm necklace he had given you seemed to give him comfort. He kissed your forehead before going to the kitchen to pour himself a drink.

Sam’s voice was nagging at you, but you couldn’t hear him through the pounding in your ears; the blood rushing from your brain as you watched the vein in Bucky’s arm pulse as he poured scotch into a glass.

“Torres is calling; I’ll be back,” Sam sighed when neither you nor Bucky responded to him. You barely noticed him leave as you made your way toward where Bucky was leaning against the kitchen counter.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You look–flushed.” Bucky placed the back of his hand on your forehead, and you almost moaned at the contact.

“I’m fine,” you managed to stutter out, trying to ignore your body’s ridiculous reaction to this damn t-shirt.

“Do you want a drink?”

You were once again enraptured when he poured a drink for you. His forearm flexed as the amber liquid filled the glass. You took the glass from him but sat it on the counter, grabbing his wrist instead and running your hand up his arm. The solid muscle had no give under your gentle fingertips. He was too enticing.

You pushed him up against the counter and continued caressing his bicep while you felt his abs and chest with your other hand.

“Bucky.”

“Yeah?” Bucky answered distractedly, watching your hand move lower down his stomach.

“This is the fucking sluttiest outfit you’ve ever worn.”

His brows briefly furrowed in confusion, and he couldn’t help but laugh, but then he saw your face and knew you weren’t joking around. Your eyes were lust-blown and hungry. His heart raced as he watched you sink to your knees in front of him, your hands firmly running over his thick thighs.

“Doll—wh—what are you doing?” He grabbed your hands as you started to undo his belt.

“What does it look like?”

“We’re in the kitchen. Anyone could walk in.”

You raised your eyebrow, not understanding what the problem was. You smiled at the blush covering his neck and spreading to his cheeks. He still hadn’t let go of your hands.

“Fine, take me to the bedroom then.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. You squealed when he hauled you over his shoulder. He slammed the bedroom door closed with his foot and tossed you on the bed. Bucky pounced on you, his lips sucking at every inch of skin he could reach.

He moved lower, lifting your shirt so he could kiss over your stomach; you whined beautifully when he twirled the tip of his tongue over your belly button.

“Gonna make you feel so good, doll,” he groaned as he kissed your hips, slowly pulling your jeans off.

“Wait,” you managed to breathe out, trying not to give in to him.

Bucky stopped, looking up at you to see what was wrong.

You sat up and pushed his hands away. “This was supposed to be about you; quit distracting me.”

You started taking his belt off again, growing more excited as your fingers slowly pulled his zipper down.

“You—you don’t have to,” he bit back a moan as he watched you, your tongue swiping over your bottom lip.

“I want to. Do you want me to stop?” You looked up at him with worry on your face. You had only been with Bucky for a few months, and you were still afraid of crossing a line, fearful of stumbling on a landmine of trauma that you didn’t know existed.

“I—I just haven’t—"

You stood up, caressing his face. “Bucky, tell me what it is. I just want to make you feel good.”

His eyes cast down to the floor out of embarrassment. “I’ve never done this before,” he mumbled.

You were confused for a minute before catching on. Trying to hide your surprise but failing, your mouth popped open in shock. “You mean you’ve never had a blow job before? Like ever?”

Bucky shook his head, his face heating up again.

“How?!” You slapped your hand over your mouth, kicking yourself for reacting so poorly.

Bucky sighed and started to pull his zipper back up; he felt like some kind of weirdo.

“God, I’m sorry; I’m not trying to make you feel bad.” You stopped him, holding his hand in yours. “It’s just—it doesn’t matter,” you shook the millions of questions you wanted to ask out of your head. “Do you want to try it?”

Bucky hesitated, you looked so earnest, and god did he want to try it. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it when your lips were sucking bruises on his skin, when your tongue danced around in his mouth. But, since coming back to the world, he had always been more comfortable giving rather than receiving.

“Only if you want to,” he finally stammered.

Your eyes lit up again. “Oh, Bucky, you have no idea how much I want to. Take your pants off.”

He did what you requested and started to pull his shirt off too.

“Leave your shirt on. I’m not done looking at you in it. Now sit down; I don’t need you collapsing on me,” you teased.

“Confident are we?” Bucky joked nervously as he sat back on the bed.

“I’ve been told I’m very good at this,” you smiled at him as you took your place on the floor in front of him. “Relax. If you don’t like something or want me to stop, just tell me, okay?”

Bucky nodded his agreement; he was growing more desperate by the second. Just your hands on him already felt amazing. When he felt your hair tickle his thigh just before your tongue firmly caressed him from the base all the way up to the tip, he was already chewing into his lip to hold back his moans.

After a few minutes, you tsked at him when you realized he was holding back on you. “Be a good little slut, and let me hear your pretty noises.”

You smirked at the look on his face, shocked at what you had said and definitely aroused

“This is what you hoped for when you put that shirt on today, is it not?”

You placed teasing kisses along his shaft between each word, your hand moving oh so slowly over him.

“Please, please stop teasing. Oh—fuck, doll.”

You only had him halfway in your mouth, and he already sounded wrecked; every sound that came out of his mouth made you feel almost as good as his wicked tongue would have.

Once he thought there was nothing else to experience, that it couldn’t possibly get any better, you pulled off of him and worked him with your hands.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” you cooed.

The praise made him jerk his hips up into your touch.

“Makes me so wet, hearing how good I make you feel. Think you can take some more, baby?”

“God, yes, please. It feels so fucking good,” he whined.

He didn’t care how desperate he sounded, not with you. You were his safe space where he could finally let go.

This time you took all of him until his sensitive tip brushed the back of your throat, and the sound he made almost made you come untouched.

You started off slow, enjoying the whimpers he let out every time your nose pressed into his pelvis.

He was gripping the sheets, trying to keep his hips from chasing the blinding pleasure; he didn’t know how much longer he could refrain. When you sped up, he let out an almost pained groan.

“Fuck, fuck, god damn, doll. I can’t—"

His hips acted on their own accord, thrusting up into your mouth. “I’m sorry, shit, it feels too good.”

You moaned around him, sending him into another fit of groans and cursing. He felt guilty every time you gagged, but the way your throat squeezed the life out of him made him want to cry.

“Do—does that not h—hurt you?” He gasped out.

You stopped, giving him a much-needed breather. “I like it, and it feels good for me too.”

Bucky couldn’t help but lean down to kiss you, feeling overwhelmingly grateful. His fingers traced the sun charm nuzzled in your cleavage. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he whispered against the column of your throat.

You kissed him once more before pushing his lips away. “I’m not done with you yet, Barnes. Give me your hands.”

Bucky placed both of his big hands in yours, and you guided them into your hair.

“Now, I don’t usually do this, but I want you to grip my hair and fuck my throat. Okay? Don’t hold back on me. If I need you to stop, I’ll pinch your thigh. Got it?”

“O—okay.” Bucky didn’t think he could be any more turned on. But the way you directed him, so matter of factly, sent him over the edge.

He surprised you, he didn’t hold back at all, and you were a moaning mess around him. Your hands lovingly caressed his thighs, and the feeling of his muscles contracting sent bolts of pleasure through you.

“Doll—I’m gonna—I can’t take any more,” he moaned as he pulled your mouth off of him.

“It’s okay, Bucky; I wanna taste you. Don’t stop.”

“Shit, are you sure?”

You moved his hand and gathered your hair into a ponytail. “Hold it like this. Tighter. Good.”

Bucky’s grip on your hair had your chin tilted up toward him. He kissed your jaw, gently scraping his teeth over the skin. “I have to fix something first.” He let go of your hair to quickly pull your shirt over your head, appreciatively palming over the red lace that covered your chest. “Better,” he huffed as he gripped your hair again.

You smiled, pleased with how he was starting to take control. “Now, if you come in my mouth, I’ll be a good girl and swallow it all.”

“You are the absolute worst. And I mean that in the best way.”

Before you could respond, he stood up and shoved your mouth back down onto him. It didn’t take long before his thighs shook under your hands, and his speech became incoherent.

Watching the necklace he had gifted you swing back and forth between your breasts was short-circuiting his brain. You rubbed your hand up over his abs, making him look at your face. Your feral eyes stayed connected as Bucky shoved his cock as deep as he could and, with a low groan, gave you what you asked for. The feeling of your fingernails digging into his ass as you pulled him deeper into your mouth and the constriction of your throat as you swallowed around him had a new wave of pleasure swirling in his stomach.

“Fuck, doll. Holy shit. That—that—shit.” He sat back on the bed and laid down, completely out of breath but with the biggest smile on his face.

You crawled onto the bed next to him. “So you liked it, huh?” Your smile was almost as big as his.

“Don’t get cocky. It was my first time.”

You punched him in the arm. “Ass. Don’t make it your last.”

“Come here.” Bucky pulled you down to his chest. “You’re amazing. Thank you.”

“I still can’t believe I’m the first one that got to suck your cock. That’s insane.”

Bucky shrugged. “I just never had anyone that I was that...vulnerable with. Do you know what I mean?”

You nodded, swallowing hard. This wasn’t the first time Bucky had taken a steamy moment and made you want to shout from every rooftop that you loved him more than you had ever loved anyone in your life. But you weren’t ready yet; you had to keep it light.

“I feel very honored,” you teased. “But seriously, you should have told me sooner. I could have been doing this every day. One blowjob for each year you went without one. It’s only fair.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Bucky laughed.

“I’m serious! If any man deserves unlimited blowjobs, it’s you.”

Bucky snorted. “Doll, I don’t think I could survive that.”

“I was worried you might have a heart attack, you know, because you’re so old.”

“Here we go again; I thought you were done with that.” Bucky pinched your side, making you squirm and giggle.

“Okay, enough, stop being cute. It’s my turn. You have me a complete and utter mess.”

“Tell me what you want, doll.” Bucky held your chin between his fingers, fixing you with a fiery smolder.

You could feel his erection pressed against your thigh, making your mouth water.

“I want you to hold on to the headboard so I can watch that god damn vein bulge out of your arm while you fuck me so hard I forget my own name.”

Bucky raised his eyebrows. “Oh, is that all?”

You nodded, though you had a moment of doubt, worried that your focus on his flesh arm would send the wrong message. You ran your hand over his vibranium one before bringing it to your lips and kissing the palm.

“Please, baby?”

Bucky found himself barely containing the ‘I love you’ that was trying to fight its way out of his mouth. He stared at you in awe, wanting nothing more than to give you whatever you asked for.

Sunshine Masterlist

My Masterlist

Every reblog and comment encourages me to continue to write and post this filth.

taglist (I’ve never done a tag list before so I’m tagging just a few mutuals 💛 if you’d like to be added or removed let me know!): @shamelessfangirl-3 @thenhewaswrongaboutme @buckmepapi @summerofsnowflakes @geeky-politics-46 @delaber @captainsimagines @becca-e-barnes @caplanbuckybarnes @bitterqueenofhearts

#bucky barnes #tfatws #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x you #bucky imagine #bucky barnes one shot #marvel smut #marvel fanfiction #bucky x female reader #bucky x poc!reader #bucky smut #sebastian stan

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buckyownsmylife · 3 years ago

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I've Told You Now - Lee Bodecker smut

The one where Lee seduced his sister's babysitter.

Warnings: smut, dubcon, age gap, innocence kink, dirty talk, loss of virginity, blood

Word count: 1.7k

A/N: This one is a part of my kinktober celebrations. My original intention for this October was to work exclusively around prompts that my wonderful friend @darkficsyouneveraskedfor created for her challenge and dedicate each story to a different friend. My new plan became then 31 days of different kinks, which expanded on a poly relationship with Stucky, as you might know by now. However, some of the stories I started were already truly loved by me, and so I kept on writing them. It worked well because as it turns out, I am fortunate enough to have more than 31 friends on Tumblr, so here is the story I wrote for @slothspaghettiwrites! You were the biggest reason I fell for Lee and it was only appropriate I wrote you this! I only hope it doesn't disappoint! Special thanks to @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog who helped me believe this was good enough to be posted! @sweeterthanthis also has a big hand at this!

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I was finishing packing up the toys in the living room when I heard the door slam, startling me into dropping the box of legos on the ground. Looking at the clock, I considered the time before looking back at the hall again. When no one appears from the hallway, I get confused. If the Hendersons hadn’t come home earlier than they intended, who else could it be?

“Waiting for me, bunny?” I immediately straightened out at the sight of Sheriff Bodecker, trying to resist the urge not to flush and keep eye contact, but ultimately failing to do so. I hadn’t seen him since the night he offered to give me a ride home and I ended up with his cock in my throat, his cum in my mouth.

“I-I didn’t even know you were coming.” Silence followed my confession as he slowly approached, eyes never leaving my body while I tried to keep myself up. He’d always had this effect on me. I remembered being a young girl and Sheriff Bodecker being the crush I knew was too old to be mine, the guy I’d never have even in a million years, but that didn’t stop me from daydreaming about him.

If I thought that maybe having him would help this infatuation disappear, it’d become clear by now that it wouldn’t be the case at all.

“And here I was, thinking you wanted me just as much as I wanted you.” The Sheriff tsked, and the sound went straight to my already dampened underwear. I couldn’t process his words very well, given how close he was and how loud my own heartbeat was ringing in my ears. Did he mean to say that he actually really wanted me?

“If that was really the case,” he taunted, circling me like I was some sort of prey. “You’d always be expecting me, wouldn’t you? But it’s alright, honey. You know why?” When I shook my head, he answered his own question, a single finger running down my jaw to guide me to look him in the eye. “Because I think you were expecting me. You’re always expecting me, looking for me wherever you go, just like I do. And there’s an easy way to prove my theory.”

Before I could question it, his arms embraced me from behind, hands slowly running down my stomach until they reached the edge of my skirt. I started sweating in anticipation. I knew what he would find.

“Let me check.” His fingers went over the fabric first, and he chuckled when he noticed how wet it was. “Would you look at that?” I was already trembling when he pulled my panties to the side and ran that same digit over my lower lips, just lightly grazing them. “Soaked already.”

Although I couldn’t see it, the humming sound he emitted after taking his fingers from under my dress didn’t leave me any doubt about what he did with the moisture he collected. Just the thought of him enjoying my taste that much had me weak in the knees, and I tried to keep myself up by reaching for a chair nearby.

Lee’s P.O.V.

I chuckled to myself at how sensitive she was, barely able to keep up with the little I’d done so far. Then again, it was clear I had a particularly strong effect on her. That had been obvious for a while, ever since she started working for my sister, probably - around the same age her womanly features began to stand out.

She seemed unable to look me directly in the eyes, always averting her gaze and biting her lower lip when I decided to stop around here for a coffee or check in on the little rugrat. I began doing this a lot more often after she was hired, but neither her nor my sister seemed to connect the dots.

Her innocence, her beauty just left me so fucking hard. I was hard right then, and I wanted her to know it. So I pressed my body against her back, lightly grinding my member against the curve of her ass.

“I suppose you’re finished for the day,” I speculated, knowing once the kid was out all she had to do was wait for my sister and her husband to arrive. “Guess I can help you unwind…”

She gasped when she felt my hardness, making me chuckle. “Your sister and her husband should be back soon…” She tried to reason, but I wasn’t having any of it.

“We’ll be quiet anyway. Can’t risk waking up the kid.” I gripped her wrist and pulled her on the direction of the guest bedroom, now fully unable to control myself. I was so close to having what I had wanted for so long.

She looked unsure of herself as I closed the door behind us, and I raised an eyebrow in a questioning look. “What’s wrong?” She shifted her weight from one foot to another, fingers playing with the hem of her skirt.

“I-I don’t know about this…” Chuckling, I approached her to cradle her face between my hands and deposit a kiss on those sweet lips.

“Don’t you trust me, pretty girl?” I had caught her now, we both knew it. She’d never risk disappointing or offending me, so when her mouth opened to explain herself and I raised an eyebrow in warning, it was only a matter of seconds until she closed it altogether and nodded, her eyes dropping to her feet.

“Yes, I do.” My smirk was full of victory, and I could taste it in my lips now. It was as sweet as the nectar between her legs I’d only had a taste of.

“There you go.” Approaching her once more, I settled my hands on her hips before leaning to kiss her shoulder. “Besides…” I continued, already bunching up her dress to get rid of it as quickly as possible. “You obviously need me to take care of you and this little wet hole.”

She bucked when my fingers rubbed her this time, dress already forgotten on the floor as I slowly shoved down the fabric of her underwear to join it. Once she was completely naked, I ran my digits over her cunt, verifying that her wetness was already so overwhelming that it was threatening to drip from her.

“So sweet.” I hummed once I wrapped my lips around those digits, tasting her on my tongue again. Yes, I was already obsessed. I think anyone who had the chance to try her nectar would understand my situation - but no one ever would.

She was mine now, and I would never let her go.

“C’mon, bunny.” Patting her ass, I directed her to the bed, chuckling at how embarrassed she seemed, being this exposed to my hungry gaze. “Be a good girl and spread your legs. Be my little angel, won’t you?”

I wished I could have done this somewhere more private - my own house, instead of my sister’s. But I just couldn’t wait anymore. My cock twitched inside my pants. I felt like I was drunk on this, drunk on her.

“C’mon, honey!” I repeated, lightly slapping the outside of her thigh. “I wanna fuck you. And I know you want to be mine, pretty girl. You can’t hide it from me.”

When she finally relented and slowly parted her beautiful legs for me, I nearly melted at the sight. Driven by my desire, I unbuckled my belt and worked to whip my cock out as quickly as possible, smirking at the wide, innocent eyes that settled on my member as I fisted it in preparation.

“Doesn’t it look good?” I teased, climbing on the bed to take my spot between her legs, rubbing the head of my dick against her slit. “I’m gonna have you taste it next time. But for now…”

Resting my forehead against hers, I slowly started to penetrate her tight pussy, slipping only the head at first, even though I was aching to fuck her throughly.

“This is gonna hurt a little,” I warned, not able to stop mid-way to let her adjust but keeping my invasion of her maidenhood slow until I had bottomed out inside of her. “Sh…” I tried to calm her, gently wiping away the few tears running down her soft cheeks. “I know it hurts, bunny. But you can take it, can’t you?”

She managed to nod despite her whimpers, and I brushed her tears away as I warned her, “I’m gonna make you feel so good, honey.”

It took a little while, but at last, she opened her eyes and I waited until she was able to focus them on me again. “You look so pretty, bunny…” I whispered, kissing her while I finally started to move inside of her, stopping only to moan out loud at her overwhelming tightness.

“I’m gonna train you until all you can think about is my cock,” I warned her, slowly pulling out until only the head of my cock was keeping her open.

“I can’t wait any longer.” Slamming my dick all the way in, I felt her nails running down my back, leaving trails of blood behind - trails I wouldn’t mind wearing under my shirt, sting as they might.

“I promise you, honey…” I panted, sweat already dripping from my forehead onto her pretty face. “You’re gonna miss me when I’m not inside of you.”

I kissed her cheek, rubbing my nose against it as she held me tightly against her. “I know you don’t want any of those boys you used to go to school with touching what I’ve already taken.”

She nodded quickly, my pretty little honey. Yes, she was mine already and she knew it. “It’s alright, pretty girl…” I soothed her as she started to whine, her cunt clenching deliciously around me. “It’s alright, cum with me…”

She closed her eyes when she met bliss, but I kept mine wide open so I wouldn’t miss her perfect expression of pleasure. It was almost enough to keep me hard, but I wasn’t as young as I once was.

I never pulled out of her tight heaven, keeping her body snuggled against me. I was happy that I decided to be patient, if it meant I now got to have her like this.

“I hope you know that you’re mine now, bunny.”

#my fics #lee bodecker #lee bodecker smut #lee bodecker reader #smut #lee bodecker reader insert #lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker reader inserts

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daryl-dixon-daydreams · 3 years ago

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Words: 2,193 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: the prison Warnings: none really Summary: Y/N falls ill and Daryl goes to make sure she's okay, only to discover her cell is empty. A/N: Just a short and sweet fic! For all you fellow migraine suffers out there! Requested by: @winchestershiresauce and anon!

Your name: submit What is this?

“Gettin’ real sick of staring at these ugly fuckers,” Daryl said, smashing the end of the metal rod in his hand through the chainlink fence and into the brain of a particularly loud walker. He watched carelessly as it crumpled to the ground and was immediately replaced by another. “Yeah, well—” you jabbed the crowbar in your hand into the temple of the seemingly endless infected clamoring at the fence, “someone has to do it.” You paused for a moment as your head suddenly swam. Daryl immediately noticed. “What? Ya alright?” He thought maybe you looked a little pale all of a sudden, which was strange considering the sweltering heat and humidity. He was sure he was red-faced and he knew he was soaked with sweat.

You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment and shook your head. “It’s nothing. I’m good.” You resumed your thankless and grim task, picking out another infected dead one to put down. You felt Daryl’s eyes on you for a moment longer before he turned back to the fence. You wiped the sweat from your brow with the back of your hand and pushed on, but it was only a few more minutes when you felt your vision start to change and the familiar stabbing pain began to grow behind your eyes. Daryl watched as the crowbar dropped to your side and you froze again, squeezing your eyes shut, a grimace wrinkling your brow. “Hey—s’goin’ on? And don’t feed me some bullshit about how you’re fine,” he drawled. He watched your fist clench around the iron crowbar. “Just—just a little too much sun probably. I’m just gonna go get some water and shade for a bit. I’m fine. Really,” you said, opening your eyes again and turning to look at him. His eyes were narrowed as he peered back at you, concern obvious on his face. “I’ll walk ya up—” “No. No, Daryl, I’m fine,” you reassured him, forcing out a light laugh. “Just keep at it down here. I’ll see if Glenn or Maggie can come down. There’s too many walkers. We need to cut this herd down or we’ll lose the fence,” you said, already walking backwards toward the gate. “I’m fine,” you tossed out one more time, forcing a smile that you knew wasn’t entirely natural. He watched you turn and let yourself through the gate, taking the alleyway between the fences back up toward the prison. Hopefully you just needed to rest a little while... He continued to work on thinning the herd for a while but found himself distracted. Neither Maggie nor Glenn came down to help and it was possible they were just busy, but he found himself fixating on an intrusive thought that you’d collapsed somewhere of heat exhaustion on your way back to the cell block. He finally decided to take a break himself and make sure you were alright. He could see if anyone else was available to help on the fence too. The archer didn’t find you anywhere on his way back inside, collapsed or otherwise. He breezed into the cell block, stalking past Beth who had Judith in her arms. He slowed as he neared the cell you’d claimed and was surprised to see that it was empty. He spun on his heel and headed right back out toward Beth. “Hey. Ya seen Y/N come in here?” “She came through a little while ago, but she left again,” Beth said. “But ya did see her?” Daryl asked again. Beth nodded. “Yeah. I saw her. Why? What’s goin’ on?” She saw worry in the archer’s expression. “Any idea where she went?” Beth shook her head. “No. Daryl, what’s goin’ on?” “Nah, nothin’. She just—she was out on the fence with me and said she wasn’t feelin’ well. I just wanted to make sure she was alright. I was thinkin’ I’d find her in bed but she ain’t there.” “Oh,” Beth said. There was something like a realization on her face and Daryl paused. “What?” “Nothin’,” Beth said again, averting her eyes back toward Judith. “Ya ain’t a good liar,” he said, a little annoyed that she obviously knew something she wasn’t saying. “C’mon. Spit it out,” he said, flicking his fingers at her. Beth looked up at him again and still seemed unsure. “It’s just—she doesn’t really want anyone to know...” “Know what?” he pressed. Beth looked hesitant, but the look on Daryl’s face convinced her to spill it. “Sometimes—she—she gets migraines. They can make her real sick,” Beth said, bouncing Judith on her hip. “Only reason I know is because I saw her leavin’ with her pillow one time real early in the mornin’ when I was up helpin’ with Judith.” “Leavin’? Leavin’ to where?” “She needs it dark and quiet... so I think she goes to one of the other cell blocks,” Beth said. “But she really told me not to say anythin’.“ Daryl stood stunned for a moment. “One of the other cellblocks?” Beth nodded. “Ya mean with those bloodstains and shit all over the place?” Beth shrugged. “I told her no one would care but she insisted I didn’t tell anyone anythin’.” Before Beth could ask him not to let you know that he knew, his broad shoulders were already disappearing back out the door. Daryl checked two cell blocks before he heard the sound of you being sick. He pushed through the cellblock gate, which creaked lazily on its hinges, and found you huddled over a bucket. You rinsed your mouth out with water and didn’t notice him standing in the cell doorway until you had sunk heavily back down on the edge of the mattress. You startled a little and Daryl watched your expression and body language just sag.

“Great...” you muttered. “Did Beth rat me out?” you asked, sliding further back onto the bed and wiping a shaky hand across your clammy forehead. “On a scale of 1 to 10, how disgusting do I look right now?” you asked, leaning your head back against the wall behind you and shutting your eyes. Daryl was just about the last person you wanted to see you like this. He watched a flash of pain flit across your face. “‘bout a 5,” he drawled, stepping into the cell. You cracked one eye open to take in his expression and saw that although one corner of his mouth was quirked slightly upwards at his joke, he mainly looked concerned. You closed your eyes again as the light coming in the high cellblock windows made your head throb.

“I’ll be okay. I just need—if I can get to sleep, sometimes that stops it...” You pinched the bridge of your nose, feeling the thudding of your pulse beneath your fingers. “Sometimes?” Daryl repeated. You didn’t respond and he moved farther into the cell until he was standing at the side of the bunk. “I thought it was yer head. How come ya got sick?” he asked. You took in a deep breath and tried to let it out steadily. “If the pain’s too intense sometimes it can make me nauseous.” Oof. Talking was not helpful. “Mmm.” You shook your head. “Can’t talk.” “Hmm...” Daryl considered you for a moment. “Scooch. And lie down.” You looked up at him, surprised, through bleary eyes, the aura of your migraine distorting your vision uncomfortably. “What?” “Ya heard me,” he said, his tone soft. You obeyed and shifted closer to the wall, settling down on your side. Daryl squeezed himself in beside you, sitting up with his back against the wall, legs crossed at the ankle. Your eyes were closed, but he still saw your expression tighten as waves of pain crested and fell. “What can I do?” he drawled quietly. You shook your head. “Just—nothing...” you murmured, feeling a hot wash of shame spread over you. The next moment your eyes shot open as you felt Daryl’s fingers running over your hair, following a strand gently, brushing lightly over you. You peered up at him in surprise and he immediately pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth and chewed it anxiously. His fingers left you for a moment. “Uhh—s’that... help?” he asked, his hand hovering above you. You nodded and closed your eyes again, just in time that you didn’t see how red Daryl’s cheeks and ears suddenly were. “Actually, yeah. That helps...” you sighed. His fingers landed in your hair again and resumed their gentle movements. He watched your breathing slow and deepen, and you seemed to sink more heavily into your pillow. Once you were asleep, Daryl carefully slipped from the cell and returned with a blanket for you, covering you over gently. He debated about heading back to the main cellblock, but the idea of leaving you there alone bothered him. Ya shouldn’t be in a fucking prison to start with, but alone in that cellblock that still held signs of unspeakable horrors? That was out of the question. So, instead, he slipped back onto the edge of the bunk, setting his back to the wall again, and settled in next to you. Maybe it was the hard work out on the fence earlier, but he was soon asleep too. When you woke up many hours later, you were surprised to see Daryl beside you asleep. his head nodded down toward his chest. He’d stayed there next to you? That whole time? He woke as you stirred a little, leaning up on an elbow and peering up at him, rubbing your eyes with your free hand. “Hey,” he said, feeling suddenly awkward and climbing off the bunk and onto his feet. “How ya feelin’?” You nodded. “Better. Thanks. Just... a bit hungover,” you said wearily. The sharpness of your migraine had faded to a fuzzy kind of ache, and your whole body felt fatigued. “Hungover without the fun of gettin’ lit in the first place? That’s some serious bullshit,” he drawled, leaning back against the wall behind him, arms crossed over his broad chest. “Yeah, tell me about it,” you said, swinging your legs over to sit on the edge of the bed, the blanket falling from over you to land in a soft pile. “Thanks...” you murmured again, feeling that creeping wave of shame rising in you again. Daryl must have sensed it because you could feel his blue eyes on you, studying you, and you glanced up at him. “Why didn’t ya tell me?” he asked. “I mean, why hide it?” He looked around the empty cellblock and his eyes landed on the bloodstains on the floor outside the cell you were in and the piles of trash nearby. “This ain’t where ya should be when yer sick. Ya should be back where—where we can take care of ya...” He’d almost said “I” instead of we, and he felt his heart start pounding. You hung your head and stared down at your hands. “I don’t want to be a burden...” you said quietly. “It’s better if I just deal with it. Alone.” Daryl scoffed and you glanced up at him. “Tha’s stupid. Ya ain’t alone. Ya got a family. And ya ain’t a burden cuz ya get sick. Ain’t yer fault. Can’t control it. Ya didn’t choose it. It’s the shit hand ya been dealt.” You shrugged and peered down at your hands again, anxious. “This why ya had to back outta that run the other week at the last minute? And—that time when we were out tryin’ to track that horse?” Your jaw clenched and you nodded. “Usually I know when they’re coming on. Sometimes I have more warning and sometimes hardly any at all... Before the world went to shit I had a couple medications that really helped, but—can’t exactly walk into a pharmacy now and fill a prescription,” you said wryly. “It’s fine. I manage them. But... I know it makes me weaker...” “Weaker? Nah. That ain’t true. If anythin’ it makes ya stronger cuz ya gotta deal with that pain.” You shook your head. “No. What if I’m out there and one hits me? That’s a weakness, Daryl. It’s dangerous.” “Mmm,” Daryl hummed, chewing on his bottom lip. He seemed to make some decision at that moment and straightened up. “Look. From now on? If yer gettin’ sick, ya just tell me, alright? No matter where we are, I’ll always make sure yer safe. If we’re outside the fence, we’ll find someplace to hole up. If we’re in here, I’ll make sure ya get to bed and that everyone keeps fuckin’ quiet so you can rest—well, ‘cept Lil Asskicker, but can’t do nothin’ about that,” he drawled. You managed a half smile. “Daryl, you don’t have to—” “I know I ain’t gotta, but that’s how it’s gonna be. Like I said, yer not alone.” You were a little overwhelmed at the moment and you felt a bubble of emotion forming in your chest. You cleared your throat and tried to gather yourself for a moment before you looked back up at him. You knew there was no point in arguing. “You’re the boss,” you said, when you finally met his blue eyes. He rolled his eyes at you in response. “Alrigh’, we both know that ain’t true... C’mon. Let’s get ya somethin’ to eat,” he said, tilting his head in the direction of the cell door. You smiled and took in his broad shoulders and strong arms, feeling another rush of heat in your chest. The softness inside that badass warrior always melted you and you had readily come to the realization that he was simply your favorite person in the world. And soon you planned to tell him so.

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #twd fanfics #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl imagines #daryl x y/n #fanfics #writers of tumblr #twd drabbles

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mercy-burning · 3 years ago

Text

Your Favorite — Part 1

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: When Y/N comes home from college for the summer to meet her mom's new boyfriend, she finds herself in a rather tough spot when she can’t stop thinking about him— And it seems he feels the same... Category: SMUT (18+) Content: Adults w/ age gap, masturbation (female and male), minor exhibitionism kink, oral sex (male receiving), penetrative sex, breeding kink (kinda? i think? 😅) Word Count: 7.3k (do you see now why I had to make it a miniseries? alsdjfdk)

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | MASTERLIST

DISCLAIMER: In this story, Spencer is dating Y/N’s mom while also having a sexual relationship with the reader herself. Because of that, there are obvious undertones of cheating, alongside some perv-y tendencies when it comes to a partner’s daughter. That being said, Spencer and Y/N’s relationship is consensual. However— If any of what I just forewarned is something that you think will make you uncomfortable while reading, please do not read! If there are any more disclaimers you think I may have missed, don’t hesitate to tell me! There is another post I made HERE with some disclaimers as well if you want to know more about what this story will entail.

NOTE: This intro is already too long, so I’ll just get this out of the way: you can find visual nsfw inspirations for this story over at @mercy-midnight, I’m working on a playlist for this story on my Spotify @/mercyburning, and I don’t know when part 2 and 3 will be out, but you can assume they’ll be here within the next few weeks.

———

JUNE 5th

I hate my mom's new boyfriend.

For the past three months she'd been telling me about this new guy who's "The One" as if "The One" hasn't been like four other guys in the past two years.

And as much as I'd love for my mom to find someone to spend the rest of her life with, I don't believe she'd ever find Mr. Perfect at this rate. Unless she spent more than a few months with them at a time before dragging me home from college for a weekend to meet them, I really don't see it happening.

It just sucks. Because every time she does this, every time I return home, I see the glimmering hope in her eyes and the diminishing spark in his, and I know. I know it won't last, and her heart will be utterly broken within the span of a few months.

I always thought maybe she just had terrible taste in men.

But this time around, when I begrudgingly walk through the door of my childhood home for the summer and see my mother clinging to a man who returns that glimmer in her eyes, I know she's picked a good one.

And I hate him.

His name is Spencer Reid, and he's a retired FBI agent who teaches full time at local colleges now.

He greets me with a bona fide, radiant smile, unlike all the others before, and it sets my insides on fire. And when we sit down for dinner, he's polite (but not in a fake way,) and he seems genuinely curious about my studies and my personality and my relationship with my mother. And when dinner is finished he offers to clean up while Mom and I settle in the living room.

I see the way he looks at me as I leave, a gentle, closed-mouth smile and eyes that linger a little too long on my exposed legs before averting, a glint of shame pooling within them, and it only spreads that fire in my belly.

Maybe I'd been imagining the whole thing, because deep down I wanted him to look at me the way he had... But it's hard to tell when my brain is mostly setting off sirens, blaring "THIS IS WRONG! THIS IS WRONG!" on a loop with blinding lights.

And they're even louder when my mom wraps her arm around me and lays her head atop mine. "Well, what do you think? He's great, huh?"

She's so lovesick, it hurts. It hurts even worse knowing that all I can think about is his big hands wrapped around my throat while he fucks me into the squeaky twin-sized mattress in my bedroom upstairs.

But I can't tell her that, obviously.

And so I decidedly hate him. And I have no choice but lie to her face, embracing her joy and hoping that I'll be able to survive this summer.

"Yeah, Mom. He's really great."

JUNE 19th

It's been two weeks and I can barely stand to be in the same house anymore.

I try to keep myself busy by going outside, to the beach or for long walks in the park; but it's too hot for my liking, and our town is so small that unless I want to spend my time in the grocery store or one of the three bars on Main Street...

I'm stuck either outside where it's hot and uncomfortable, or in the house where it's also hot and uncomfortable.

We have air conditioning, of course, but that's not the problem.

It's Spencer.

I thought by now my little crush on him would have gone, but the longer he hangs around the house, the stronger my feelings for him grow. They're not romantic—nor do I think they ever could be given the fact that if anything serious really were to ever happen between us, my mom would disown me for the rest of my life and murder Spencer with her bare hands—but that doesn't make it any easier on me.

Every day he just exists, right in front of me with that tug-able mop of hair, those warm honey eyes, and his hands that never stop moving. I swear, it's like every time he breathes, his hands are breathing too, challenging me to try and stop them.

But I refuse to touch him. Because I know the moment I do, all will be lost. I won't be able to control myself anymore. And if I don't drop to my knees and try sucking his dick at the dinner table, I'm sure I'll blurt out how I can't handle it anymore and that I need him, and either way I'd be royally fucked.

Right now he's in the dining room, teaching my mom how to do a disappearing card trick. She thinks it's utterly charming that he can do it at all, but mostly that he's patient and willing enough to teach her. And normally I'd agree, but I can barely look at them without wanting to waltz over, grab his wrist, and suck his fingers into my mouth.

It's truly pathetic.

So I try to focus on the television just a few feet away. It's one of those rare instances where I wish our house was bigger, because while I don't mind having less wall-space between rooms, I do mind not being able to watch TV without the kitchen table in my periphery at a time like this. And I think about going up to my bedroom instead for a moment, but I'd have to go past the kitchen, and I just know Mom is going to ask if I'd want Spencer to teach me his magic trick.

And I most definitely do not want that.

In another life, maybe, where he isn't a hot professor and rather an average-looking dude who's way too into fantasy football... But not in this lifetime.

So there I sit, concentrating so hard on Family Feud that my face hurts.

When I hear a flutter of cards and joyous giggling from the other room, it's more than my face that hurts.

It's also my chest, churning and tensing at the hands of the green devil.

Fuck!

I barely even know this man... I haven't really talked to him because I'm afraid that if I try to hold a conversation I'll snap. He's literally just some hot older guy who's dating my mom, and still, my whole body twists and aches with envy when they do anything together, and it fucking sucks. Not only because of the jealousy, but it's also the fact that my mom deserves to be happy.

This time it's different. This time, she's really found someone who returns her every loving gaze, who makes her laugh, who's kind and genuine and not a total douche. She's happier than I've seen her in years.

And the one time she finally finds "The One", every waking second of my life is spent longing for him fuck me.

But it's only been two weeks.

And it's also been nearly two years since I got laid, so maybe that's just my issue...

I figure it can't hurt, so in a spur of the moment decision, I turn the TV off and sprint towards the stairs, right past Mom and Spencer before they can ask questions.

———

I hardly even register the dimness of the light inside the house by the time I glide up the steps, fumbling with the key and trying to make my entrance as quiet as possible. Though, because I'm so used to the dark by this point, the light—no matter how dim—nearly blinds me. The door shuts louder than I'd have liked, and I cringe inwardly, pausing as if that will keep anyone from seeing or hearing me. Not like it'll matter, considering Mom and Spencer are the only ones that are staying here and they'd also been the only ones aware of my plans for the evening.

Well, somewhat, anyway. I told them an old friend invited me out and I probably wouldn't be home until late.

Regardless, that instinct of trying not to get caught coming in late at night is stronger than common sense. Throw a little cheap beer and some shots into the mix, and it almost feels like I'm a teenager again.

The only thing different now is that I have a pool of some stranger's cum soaking my underwear and a man in front of me who stands like an angel. An exhausted, almost scruffy-looking angel more like, but my point still stands.

"You're up late," Spencer observes. It's a simple enough statement— not really judge-y, but I can tell that regardless of his knowledge of my coming home late, he seems shocked to see me coming through the front door right now.

And it's hard to look away from him. Just like it has been for the past two weeks. Still, I try, just barely avoiding his eyes as I cross my arms and fight the urge to clench my legs together. "I'm a whore. What's your excuse?"

Maybe not the best thing to say. But like I said, common sense? Gone.

"O—oh... Umm..." Spencer stumbles through his words, obviously stunned by my response, and the look in his eyes kind of makes me want to curl up in a ball and die from embarrassment. Still, I stand my ground and wait for him to continue.

He settles on a short, "I can't sleep," and then there's nothing else.

"Ah," I express. One syllable. I don't draw it out, I don't exaggerate it... This is the first real conversation I've had alone with him, and I've made it extremely awkward, so I sigh and take a few steps forward, trying to walk past him. "Okay. Goodnight."

I only make it a few steps before he stops me, his hand reaching out to tap my shoulder. "Wait—"

The touch makes me jump, and he pulls it away immediately as I turn to face him. My heart is racing at the speed of light, my panties are soaked through, and if I'm not careful that whole 'no common sense' thing is going to bite me so hard in the ass I won't have one left.

"Can I talk to you?" His voice is barely audible, and the gentle rasp it has to it seems to make me even more wet.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak.

"Look, I um... Your mom has been totally transparent with me about her relationships, so I know that she's been through a lot of them in a short amount of time... And I know that must be a little difficult for you. Especially now that I'm here... And you've been... distant. And I know that I don't know you that well, so forgive me if I'm assuming anything, but I just want you to know that I don't have any intention of making things difficult for you and your mother."

Too late, pal, I think bitterly, the gentle authority in his tone setting my insides alight. I'm positive that voice could get me to do so many things...

That's the alcohol and sex talking, Y/N, just shake it and move on...

He starts again, but I cut him off with a short wave of my hand. "Look, I... I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I had a really long night, and I'm exhausted. I just wanna shower and go to bed."

I expect more resistance, but Spencer only nods. I still can't bring myself to look him in the eye, though this time I catch his hands clenching at the bottom hem of his shirt. "I understand. Sleep well."

Without another word I turn on my heel and walk a little faster towards the stairs, and I'm about to take my first step when I realize he's followed me. His voice calls out my name softly from a few feet behind, and it stops me in my tracks regardless of my desire to get out of there as fast as I can. And then I turn around and finally look directly at his face.

Big mistake.

His eyes are on my legs again, trailing slowly upwards until he reaches my face. The light over here is dimmer, barely noticeable at all, though I swear I can see red forming on his cheeks.

"I like your dress," he says softly. It's almost meek, like he'd been afraid to say it but took a chance anyway.

It's such a random, small compliment, but with the alcohol and endorphins flowing through my body after the night I'd just had, it nearly makes me quiver.

It also makes me incredibly stupid.

An amused, almost sensual grin forms on my face as I make eye contact with him, and I feel myself throb at the way I can just barely see his throat move. He looks like a deer in headlights, afraid to make one sudden move.

"Turning to flattery to try and win me over, are we?" I say slowly.

I almost think he'll stumble over his words once more, but again he surprises me with a full answer. It's only three words but it's clear, and his voice is deep, and I want to fucking jump his bones right then and there.

"Is it working?"

This has to be the alcohol making me imagine things... I swear I didn't even drink that much tonight, but it has to be an obvious lapse in judgement. The drinking mixed with the sex mixed with the dirty thoughts I've been having about this man lately have to be what's making this feel real. It's all culminating into this one big fantasy (or delusion, more like), and all I need is to shower and sleep it off.

That has to be it.

So because there's no other reasonable explanation that my brain can conjure up, I take a chance and throw Spencer a wink before turning and sprinting up the stairs.

And it's that same seemingly undeniable reasoning for this illusion that doesn't keep my hands from wandering in the shower. Even though those warning sirens in my brain keep blaring, telling me that the common sense is still there for me to utilize, they're drowned out by my thrumming heartbeat and the repetition of Spencer's soothing, authoritative voice, guiding my movements.

Keep rubbing your clit for me, baby... Just like that, nice and slow...

Warm water cascades down the front of my body as I lean back into the wall of the shower, but that's not why I'm so warm. This heat radiates through my insides, spreading like wildfire and bringing out small whimpers and mewls that I know I'll have to contain in fear of waking my mom from her bedroom right next door.

But then the thought of her hearing me next door as I cry out her boyfriend's name only excites me more. I keep it quiet still, but just knowing that someone else is in the house while I'm having these thoughts right now (one of them being the object of said thoughts) is what finally brings me over the edge.

I finish my shower on weak legs, definitely overstimulated now, but also feeling even more tired. I know that the moment I lay down on my bed, I'll be pulled into the sweet, soft surrender of a deep sleep.

Nothing else has ever sounded so pleasant.

———

When I woke up that morning after, I was feeling surprisingly calm. Realistically I knew that my whole 'this has to be an illusion' montage had been less truth and more inebriated babble, and the longer I sat on it the more I thought it'd all turned out for the better.

Turns out, tipsily masturbating in the shower to thoughts of your mom's hot new boyfriend was a surefire way to get it out of your system, right?

Wrong.

It really had been okay at first. I thought about Spencer almost immediately, and yeah, he was still hot as fuck—But there wasn't this overwhelming desire within me to jump his bones when I saw him that morning, his hair messy and his hands clutching a cup of coffee while Mom made breakfast behind him.

But that good feeling I had about all of this? It lasts only about a split second.

Because the moment he looks up and sees me, the mug falls out of his hand and shatters to pieces. His eyes stay glued to me, even as my mother darts over to pick up the pieces of the ceramic that are scattered about the table and the floor. And when she turns back to grab a paper towel, he still stares at me, once again at my legs.

It takes me all of four seconds afterwards to remember that not only did I talk to him briefly last night, but I also flirted with him after he complimented me.

That whole part seemed to have slipped my mind when waking up, and now that his gaze is bringing me back to that moment, that 'this has to be an illusion' montage is starting to become larger than I'd remembered.

It isn't until he finally snaps out of it and starts to help my mom clean up the mess that I snap out of it, too, going back upstairs to clear my head and cool the heat radiating over my skin.

———

There's a knock at my bedroom door about an hour later, and it sounds different than my mom's usually quick two-knock succession. That means it's someone else, and unsurprisingly, my stomach tightens at the thought of seeing him again.

"Yeah?" I call out, turning in my desk chair and meeting Spencer's figure in the doorway. He's changed, a rather nice pair of slacks and a white button-up shirt clinging to his limbs.

"Can I come in?"

"Mhm," I say. I still don't know if I entirely trust myself to say anything more than a few words to him, and as he enters the room and sits on the foot of my bed, I wonder if he can tell.

He tries, really tries, to look me in the eye, but I know that it's hard. I've been in the same spot. And then he takes a deep breath before folding his hands in his lap.

"Y/N, I want to apologize... When we... talked last night... It was kind of weird, and then this morning wasn't really any better..." He can barely get out the words 'talk' and 'last night'... And then he avoids my gaze altogether, staring at the floor and trailing off, trying to put his thoughts together it seems.

And that's when it starts to click into place.

There's one thing that both last night and this morning have in common, and I've noticed it almost every time I've caught him staring at me. At my legs. It's happened almost daily since I've met him. And then, the night I come home clearly having just been fucked, waltzing past him, entertaining his fascination with my legs and then masturbating to thoughts of him in the shower, he finally starts dropping mugs.

He must also really feel something here. Something similar to my own feelings. And really, that should be a red flag, because he's my mom's boyfriend, and it's a goddamned fucking mess...

But fuck, it excites me.

I'm still wearing my pajama shorts, silky and lavender in color, and I use them to my advantage, slowly crossing one leg over the other and just barely gaining Spencer's attention back.

"Yeah, what was that, anyway?" I ask him, amusement dripping off my tongue.

I can tell from his reaction that he wasn't expecting me to ask. A few times he opens his mouth to speak and then closes it , stumbling before panicking. He's been pretty good so far at coming up with answers and explanations, so the fact that this time I finally seemed to have broken him down makes it all the more clear.

He must have heard me in the shower.

Right?

I'm almost completely positive that's what this is about. And there's one way for me to get the confirmation I'm looking for.

"So you heard me, huh?"

I try to keep my voice as plain as I can as not to give away my motives, and with my luck Spencer is so flustered that he probably wouldn't have even noticed it at all. He looks up at me, his eyes desperately trying to find something he can use to make up a lie, but in the end there's no use.

I've caught him. And he knows it.

"Yes," he whispers. He looks exhausted, guilty, and also a little like he wants to cross the barrier and kiss me.

Okay, maybe that part's just in my head. I really can't tell. But I do know that hearing me call his name out in the shower last night is what brought him to this point of severe distress. As much as that excites me, though, it also embarrasses me a little. Maybe if it hadn't happened we could have avoided further destruction.

It must read on my face, because Spencer perks a little. "Oh! Y/N, I'm not... I'm not mad or anything. I really didn't mean to overhear and invade your privacy... Really, I-I'm sorry."

The fact that he's apologizing to me right now, rather than acting all grossed out that I even did it in the first place, tells me he either feels guilty for not being able to help himself from hearing me, or he's just a good guy who loves my mom and doesn't want to ruin it because of a little mishap.

Either way, it's frustrating, because I don't know what to do.

Well, I know what I want to do, but I don't know if I should hint at it.

But then he does something. It's small, and no one would have noticed, but I've been fascinated with his hands since the moment I met him, so my eyes are instantly drawn there.

They're clenched so hard, his knuckles are nearly white.

He's nervous.

To ease his mind a bit, I hold off on poking the bear harder (though it's really tempting to see what will happen if I don't) and nod, trying to make myself look as apologetic and small as possible.

"It's okay... I... I won't make it awkward if you won't?"

His shoulders slump, and his body seems to relax. "Y–yeah. Yeah, deal."

He gets up off the bed and blurts one final apology before heading for the door, but that part of me that wants to poke the bear further makes me stand up and follow him.

"Spencer?" I call out.

He freezes and turns to face me, and I don't think he quite expected me to be as close as I am. I have to tilt my head up to look at him, and the angle gives me an added layer of this innocence I'm trying to achieve.

"I'm sorry, too..."

No the fuck I'm not.

Whether he can sense my lie or not, he doesn't show it. But I think he at least knows that I'm pitching my voice a little higher on purpose, and if that doesn't give it away, the way I'm staring at him sure should.

Still, he only nods and retreats.

All there's left to do is see what happens.

JUNE 25th

For someone who agreed not to make things awkward, Spencer sure can't keep his eyes off of me.

To be fair, I have tried to keep things fairly normal. I only really interacted with him if I had to, I kept my distance, and I saved my skimpier clothing for the strangers I was regularly going out to see almost every weekend.

My lustful feelings for him aren't as strong now that I've been getting some on a semi-regular basis and keeping myself occupied. I've been doing my part.

But I still can't shake him entirely.

Whenever he spends the night (which is surprisingly most nights), the occasional wet dream about him gets me frustrated when I know he's just down the hall and sleeping soundly next to my mom. On those days I try to cut as much interaction with him as I can, though it doesn't keep me from seeing the occasional stare he throws my way.

I wish I could say that I hate it.

But I don't, and it increasingly gets worse. It's only been a week, so there's still time, but honestly, I don't think there's any shaking him.

Today especially is one of those days where it's hard not to give into the incessant need to tease him and coax some stronger reaction out of him.

I talked to Mom earlier this morning about getting some new clothes, and she had this brilliant idea to have Spencer take me. "It would be a good chance for you two to bond a little, don't you think?" she insisted, nudging him in the side and silently pleading with her eyes for him to agree.

I could tell from the look on his face that he really wasn't ready to be alone with me again, but that only excited me.

"Yeah, I think that's a great idea," I piped up, positively beaming.

Mom was so excited for us to 'bond' and also that I was gladly inclined to go through with it that Spencer couldn't have said no to her even if he wanted to.

And I was pretty sure he didn't want to.

Yet here we are, sitting in the car, the air conditioning so strong it's blowing some of my hair into my eyes. I think it had been his way of punishing me for choosing today to wear a short skirt, something I usually refrain from nowadays unless I'm going out, and it makes me smile. I can't help it.

I also can't help the way my fingers play with my skirt, dying to tease him some more. I just want to see, to know for sure that I'm driving him mad.

"No offence, but you seem weird today... Is there something wrong?" I ask him, lifting my skirt just a smidge. The air from the car blows the fabric in waves.

"You're acting this way on purpose."

Well, I hadn't been expecting that answer... All this time he'd hardly been confrontative, and now he's full-on calling me out. It's plain to see that he's finally snapped, and I would have felt sorry about it if I didn't find it extremely sexy.

"What do you mean?"

"Y/N..."

My name on his lips is a warning. He's clearly annoyed, exasperated, and I'm loving every second. "Don't act oblivious. I'm not stupid, and neither are you. I don't want to make you hate me or anything, but you have to know where I'm coming from. I was willing to let the shower thing slide... And you said you were too, for that matter, so I don't know what's changed, but it has to stop now. Understood?"

Oh, all I want is to argue with him. I want to point out that none of this is really my fault because he's the one who hasn't been able to stop staring at me all summer so far. I want to tell him that if he wants this to stop he has to make it stop.

But that isn't going to give me any of the answers I'm looking for or further proof of my theory that he wants me just as badly as I want him. And I am not going to fuck this whole situation up by making a poorly-timed move on him.

I have to know for sure.

So, I fold my hands neatly in my lap, sigh, and look dead ahead. "Right... We said no awkwardness. I'm sorry."

Spencer seems to accept my apology and continues down the road.

When we make it to the mall I think he's calmed down. At least, he seems a little more comfortable around me, and honestly I'm okay with it. As much as his spiel in the car turned me on, it also exhausted me to the point of silence.

Even as we walk around each store in the mall, I just lead and he follows, not saying a word when I pick out a top or a pair of pants or whatever else I need. And when it comes time to pay, he takes the basket from me and pays for it with no question.

Near five bags of clothes later, I figure I could get used to this new dynamic.

But then we pass a lingerie store, and I remember that the main thing I'd needed was new underwear. I start to turn into the store, but stop suddenly, pausing awkwardly and deciding to go straight ahead instead.

"You don't want to go in?" Spencer asks.

I shake my head. "No, it's fine. I can just pick some up later, it's not a big deal."

He sighs then, nodding his head towards the sign. "If you need to go in, you can... I'll just wait out here if you're uncomfortable."

I really want to call him out, ask him if he's the one who should be worried about being uncomfortable. But so far this afternoon has been pretty decent, and I really don't want to make things any weirder than they have to be.

Besides... If my theory is right...

"Sure. Thanks. Uh, how am I gonna pay, though?"

"O—Oh... I'll uh... I'll just watch the counter and come in when you need me."

"Orrrr, you could just give it to me?"

This time I get a laugh out of him. "Not a chance. Go in, I'll wait."

I smile at him and hand him the bags to hold onto while I leave, and it fills me with absolute amusement that he'd just given me one more ounce of proof that I'm right.

He's gonna have to come inside and pay for what I bought. He could have just given me the card, and maybe he truly doesn't trust me with it (which I don't know why he wouldn't honestly), but he chose to come inside all the same.

I browse happily then, going through the displays and picking out things I need, but also things I know Spencer will like.

Specifically, I stumble on a pair of lavender panties, embroidered with flowery trim up top. The pattern from the outside is lace, but there's a thin layer of cotton underneath designed to be more comfortable to wear.

I've noticed that he can never seem to look away when I'm wearing anything, really, but it's more intense when I wear one of two things. Florals, and any type of purple. And these fit both of those bills perfectly.

Now there's just one more bill to take care of.

I stride over to the counter and turn around, finding that Spencer's caught my eye immediately. Either he truly had been paying attention to the counter the whole time, or he'd been watching through the glass, following me with his gaze to the best of his abilities. Either way, he blinks a few times and looks like he's gathering the courage to go in before actually taking any steps.

I laugh to myself, eager to gauge his reaction to this next step.

Surprisingly, he holds up well. The air between me, him, and the cashier is obviously awkward, but he doesn't say anything and barely looks at what she rings up. (I say barely because he tries extremely hard not to look at the purple pair I picked out, inadvertently adding another checkmark to my list of proof.) She tells him the total, he hands her the card, and within a minute, everything is in our possession and we're leaving the mall entirely.

I don't think there are any more steps to my plan today once we get in the car and I tell him thank you. (To which he responds a short and simple, Sure thing, and turns the radio on.)

But then there's a note taped to the front door, and it instantly gives me another one.

My Sweethearts,

I got called in on a work emergency and won't be back until 7. I would have called but I figured you were having a nice time and didn't want to interrupt! I'll bring home dinner, and then maybe you can tell me about how your day went. Can't wait to hear it!

XOXO,

Eve/Mom

I check my phone, seeing that it's almost 3.

Perfect.

But I don't want to give myself away too quickly, so I thank Spencer again for taking me out and tell him that I'm going upstairs to make sure everything fits right. He nods and lets me go, though not without lingering eyes. I can feel it.

The smile never leaves my face as I try all my clothes on. Once each article has been fitted, I throw it in a laundry basket and move to the next, until I get to the last piece.

The lavender panties.

As expected, they fit perfectly, and as I look at myself in the mirror I picture what Spencer would look like when he sees me wearing them.

That's right. When.

I throw back on my earlier outfit and grab the basket, acting as bored and normal as possible to find him sitting at the kitchen table, reading a book.

"Hey," I greet him, setting the basket in front of me once I reach the bottom of the stairs. "Everything fits good, I just need them washed now. Could you run these down to the laundry room for me? I think I'm gonna make something to snack on before Mom brings dinner."

It doesn't surprise me to see him look at my legs before my face, even if it is brief. I want to smile, but I hold back, watching him nod with a tight smile of his own.

"Sure."

He disappears and then I wait.

One...

Two...

Three.

I sneak as quietly as I can to the laundry room once I hear the washer door open. I hadn't specifically asked him to put them in the washer for me on purpose, and it looks like now he's doing exactly what I thought he might.

My head peeks around the corner, barely in his range of sight as I watch him empty the basket. He takes one item of clothing at a time and throws it in the washer, and halfway through the basket he stops, just to place a pair of my new underwear on the dryer beside him.

My heart races faster the more I wait for him to get to the end of the basket. Once he does, he pauses again, and I think I know exactly what he's looking for.

Still, he sets the basket aside and picks up the stray pair of underwear, a simple black cotton pair that I'd been getting for years, and drapes it over his hands. My thighs instantly clench, and I try so hard to remain where I am so I can see where he takes this.

He takes it straight to hell, apparently, tentatively pulling his dick out of his pants and gripping it firmly. I can barely see since his back is partially turned, but I see enough, and god he's so fucking pretty. My underwear dangle from his left hand while the other works slowly over his erection, a soft sigh falling from his lips.

I fight to let one of my own slip as my hand sinks down the front of my body, past the lavender cotton and lace that I know he just wishes he had right now.

And then, a few seconds later he's already coming, using my brand new underwear to catch each rope of it, and the sight nearly has me on my knees.

And because I want to catch him in the act, I quickly draw my hand away from myself and step into the room, barely giving him time to recover.

"You come fast."

Spencer looks utterly devastated when he turns to see me standing in the entryway to the laundry room, arms crossed and an amused smirk adorning my face.

"Y/N... I—I... I'm so sorry, I didn't... I..."

"Don't worry about it," I say, taking a step towards him and shrugging. "You heard me, and now I heard you... We're even. Besides, I... figured you might be looking for these."

He's still stunned, but he looks down all the same, watching my hands slip under my skirt and glide the lavender panties down my legs. I step out of them and hold the garment up on one finger, a soft smile still on my face.

"I picked 'em out just for you, you know," I tell him, tossing them past his face and into the washer. "I've noticed that you like purple."

This time he's quick to respond. "Y/N, we... We can't... This isn't right."

"Says the man holding my underwear soaked in his cum..."

He looks panicked again, extremely guilty, but if this isn't going to end in a total disaster, then I have to reassure him that I'm okay.

"Spencer, I'm not mad..." I take another step forward, and it feels much like trying to approach a wounded animal. I can see in his eyes and in his posture that this conflict is killing him, so I decide to show some rapport. "And I know... I know this is messy... I love my mom... And I'm sure you care about her a lot... But are we really going to ignore this? We tried that, remember? And now look where we are."

"I..." He swallows, shaking his head and trying to avoid my eyes. "I can't stop thinking about you... I can't..."

My hand finds his arm, and the light touch has him sighing out, an incredulous, breathy laugh escaping him. "Y/N, please... Don't."

"Don't what?" I ask softly, praying he won't turn me away. If he does, we're just back to square one, only the square is jagged, sharper than ever before, and in serious danger of injuring someone.

When he meets my eyes, I see nothing but a desire for something he knows he can't have. "Don't want me."

Now it's my turn to laugh. My knees start to wobble as I go down, keeping my eyes locked onto his, and I swear I see them dilate fully. I scoot in closer, sliding my hand up his leg and finding the words in my heart to finally say out loud.

"It's too late for that..."

My face moves closer, and the hand of his that doesn't currently hold my underwear flies down to gently tug at my hair, keeping me in place.

"If you do this... God, Y/N, I won't be able to stop myself..."

A smirk dances over my lips as I lean in, breath fanning gently over his exposed skin. "Don't."

He swallows. "Don't what?"

"Don't stop yourself."

I barely get the words out before his hand is completely pulling me towards him, and the second my lips press against the silky skin of his hard cock, he loses it completely.

His fingers thread through my hair as I kiss and lick my way softly up to the tip. Once I'm there, I swirl my tongue out and taste the small beads of cum that had remained after he came, a low, satiated hum radiating through my body and making him shiver under my touch.

And then I wrap my lips fully around the head of his dick, and there's no stopping the most beautiful sound I've ever heard come out of his mouth. It's a broken, desperate whisper of my name. The crack in his voice when he says it spurs me forward, and I take him deeper into my mouth until he hits the back of my throat.

That's when he tosses my underwear in the washer and uses both of his hands to grab my head, roughly guiding me along his cock and fully taking control of my actions.

The fire in my belly doesn't ease up, not even once he's decided that he can't take it anymore and pulls me off of him harshly.

And that's only because now he's fully turned over, finally given into these desires that have been plaguing him presumably from the moment we met.

"I want you stripped and in your bed, on your hands and knees within the next five minutes."

I get up off the floor and walk up to him until our bodies are flush, my arms reaching up to wrap around his neck.

"What are you gonna do to me, Spencer?"

He searches my eyes, and his own grow dark with the purest form of sin I'd ever seen. And when his hands come up over the back of my legs, and under my skirt to grab my ass and pull me even closer to him, I can't help the little mewl that slips past my lips.

He smiles, and if it hadn't been for the grip he held on me, I would have fallen to my knees. "Little girl, when I'm through with you, you'll have to come up with some excuse to your mom about why you can't walk straight... Is that what you want?"

The mention of my mom should send me running in the opposite direction, but his threat only prolongs that fire in my veins and makes me want him even more.

I tilt my head up and press a gentle kiss to his lips.

"Do your worst..."

———

Turns out he was very true to his word.

Sitting at the kitchen table is somewhat of a relief, but I try not to walk around as much when Mom gets home. She'd asked me almost immediately if I was okay, and I told her I was just hungry and needed to eat something.

She seemed to have bought it, rushing to the kitchen to unpack the fast food she'd ordered for us. Over her shoulder, Spencer gave me a sly smile, and it took everything I had within myself not to crumble.

Through bites of food, I only half-listen to Mom telling us about the stuff she had to do at work because most of the words I'm hearing are in my head— A loop of endless dirty talk that plants deep into the soil of my stomach and spreads out through my whole body. It infects me, like the most beautiful poison, and I never want it to stop.

"Tell me, sweetheart, you ever let a man come inside you before?"

His weight on top of me coupled together with the heft of his voice has me whining out in pleasure, each snap forward of his hips over my ass as he pounds into me from behind the most delectable burn I've ever felt.

"Uh huh," I answer happily, twisting my head to feel his cheek against my own. "That night you heard me in the shower... I walked through the door with a stranger's cum soaking my panties... And you know what?"

He grumbles, his hips hitting into me harder as he waits for me to continue.

"I wished it was yours..."

My legs clench together under the table and I take a large gulp of water.

I feel something graze over my bare shin, and I already know it's Spencer's foot, a silent reassurance of his presence and that no matter what, he'll always be here.

"Here's what's going to happen..."

He has me on my back now, my legs hoisted over his shoulders and bent back so I'm nearly folded in half. His hips are flush against mine and I can feel his cock throbbing as he comes into the condom.

"You're gonna make an appointment to make sure you're clean... You're gonna make sure you're on good birth control... And then the next time I fuck this pretty little pussy, you're gonna really know what it feels like to have a man come inside you."

Right... Like I really need a reminder of his presence.

I can practically feel it still inside me, taking up every inch of space my body could provide. And no matter how long I go without seeing him, I have no doubt that it'll always remain.

"But that's enough about me, I'm sorry." Mom's voice shifts and breaks me out of my fantasy. "So, how did your day of bonding go? You have fun?"

Spencer and I share a look, a smile spreading over his lips that makes me smile in turn.

"Yeah, Mom," I say. "It was great."

He nods in kind. "Yeah... We'll definitely have to do it again."

His foot grazing over my leg under the table cements the unwavering smile on my face, as does the way my whole body burns at the memory of him fucking me upstairs only hours before.

I don't even flinch or get sick to my stomach when Mom reaches over and gives Spencer a kiss.

———

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sepublic · 3 years ago

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Belos’ Day of Unity

This episode confirmed a HUGE detail for us, and it’s that the Day of Unity involves merging the human and Demon Realms together! This better explains why Belos wants the Portal… If he just wanted to access the human world, he could do that with regular Titan’s Blood alone, but he needs something on a level that can maintain a lasting, open connection between the two! Not only that…

But as Boscha so ‘kindly’ reminds us later this episode, Luz’s glyphs don’t work in the human world! Magic is a gift from the isles… And with the association of wild magic as ‘elemental’, how Luz’s glyphs take an elemental form… How they were the first form of magic, learned from observing the isles themselves and whatnot-

It seems wild magic, at least as how Belos defines and hates it, takes a lot of cues and even draws power from the Boiling Isles! From the Demon Realm itself… Which, is interesting because;

Belos clearly wants to control magic. He sees it as something witches have to more or less earn back… But ideally, they have to earn it from him entirely! Bile magic is something Belos can control, it’s confined to people’s bodies and he has the coven bindings to do so- Belos can control bodies, he can override that autonomy, and it comes from a source he can regulate. You can even see it with staffs, especially the one that Hunter has!

Staffs can be taken away, they can be broken and drained. They’re external, but in a way that Belos can easily separate a witch from… And with Hunter, this takes on a whole new twisted meaning, because Hunter’s staff is (or rather was) his ONLY source and means of magic…

And as someone who created that staff no doubt, Belos can easily tamper with and restrict the spells that Hunter can access with it, no doubt- I wouldn’t be surprised if Belos could turn off Hunter’s staff at will! It’s his to give and take as he pleases, and given Belos’ unwillingness to create more Palismen, we still see plenty of carefulness with staffs as an external source of magic as well. Belos might intend to replace magical staffs with his own version that he can control!

But wild magic and glyphs? They come from the isles, they come from the very land itself… And Belos CAN’T restrict the very fabric of the reality he lives in. Glyphs are an outside-context problem, you don’t need a bile sac to wield them; And they completely bypass the issues of coven bindings. You can’t restrict glyphs, the way you can’t restrict knowledge- It’s always bound to slip through Belos’ grasp, no matter how hard he tries. And once a secret is out, it tends to spread like wildfire…

Belos can’t just apply some massive coven binding to the Demon Realm entirely… Can he?

That’s of course where the Day of Unity comes in. Where OUR world comes in… If magic, specifically the wild magic that fuels glyphs, is sourced directly from the Demon Realm itself… And our world has no magic, glyphs are useless there?

Belos might intend to neutralize the Demon Realm’s magic entirely, by fusing it with the human world! And/or, with how the human world seems more vast than the Demon Realm (the Boiling Isles is only the size of Vermont), the magic inherent to it will be spread so thin that it’ll be too weak to utilize.

And that’s… As Luz might put it, fiendishly clever! Belos recognizes his limits. He knows he can’t control the knowledge of glyphs, the memory of them- And even if he could, people can still learn directly from the isles itself, from the Demon Realm itself- The Light Glyph can be found in the stars! So long as the original source exists to learn from, nothing is truly stopping someone from paying attention and finding it on their own, potentially by accident!

If Belos can’t truly, physically control this magic and restrain it- Then it’s a liability, especially since it can grant coven-bound witches access to full magic again, and allow them to turn the tides. It makes Belos and his system redundant… So he has to remove the original source of wild magic, WITHOUT destroying his own world and of course himself in the process!

In comes our world. With the Demon Realm’s magic neutralized and/or diffused, the only source will come from the bile in witch’s bodies, which Belos CAN restrict. Sure, some witches might escape here or there, slip through the cracks and have unbound children… But that’s nothing compared to the threat of glyphs, which anyone can learn at any time!

And if Belos plans to somewhat conquer the human world, at least to defend and maintain his own utopia- It works out again! Because our technology is based on knowledge, nothing is stopping the witches of Belos’ society from learning and adapting to our own technology, repurposing it for themselves. We already see technology exist to some degree anyway, such as in the Abomitons, and Belos’ own creations! It’d be easy for witches to repurpose our own technology for themselves.

But humans? We can’t cast magic. We have no bile sacs… And even glyphs, the one form of magic we COULD wield, would be rendered powerless by our own world! Sure, there might be a few witches here or there that would come to our side, that would oppose Belos’ conquest and imperialism…

But those select few wouldn’t make up for the vast differences in numbers, nor could they have kids who’d grow up at a fast enough rate. Magic can replicate technology’s uses in its own way –scrolls can access a magical version of the internet- and I wouldn’t be surprised if the Day of Unity will also empower Belos as some kind of all-powerful, magical god who could easily handle what us puny humans throw at him, anyway.

Aside from a much smaller population… Again, it seems magic is a good way for Belos to ensure his own power and conquest over our world, too- Or at least to keep us out of his own borders. Perhaps Belos only intends to rule his select portion of the Demon Realm within Connecticut, and bar out everyone else to their own devices, occasionally checking in to make sure we don’t ‘invade’ his own bubble.

Maybe Belos doesn’t even intend to transport the entire Demon Realm, just the Boiling Isles itself, to the human world… Which of course isolates witches from that source of wild magic even more.

There is an issue of course- And that gets down to how witches create magical bile. With how magic is a gift from the isles, it’s possible witches are simply able to convert the innate magic of the atoms and molecules around them in their digestive system, and turn that into bile- Meaning without this ‘magical radiation’, eventually a witch will run out of magic bile and be depleted, should they stay in the human world without any access to the Demon Realm.

Does Belos know, or even care? Maybe this is his way of also removing magic entirely… Or as I said, with how magic will be spread thin when our worlds fuse; Perhaps it will exist in enough of a capacity in this fused realm, that biological witches can still harvest this magical radiation and produce bile.

Or, based on how King described it in The Unauthorized History of the Boiling Isles, witches just naturally produce their own magical radiation in the form of bile- They don’t need to be connected to the Demon Realm to do, they are their own sustainable source!

Either way, Belos’ plan makes a disturbing amount of sense… It’s the final nail in the coffin as a way for him to physically control magic, and it’s the outright death and eradication of wild magic as well! He has no interest in conquering our world, not necessarily- Just in bringing his over so he can kill off the final source of magic that manages to elude his control.

Any imperialism may come as a natural byproduct of this type of crossover, but it’s not what Belos specifically intends from the fusion- So in a way, he wasn’t lying when he said that it wasn’t his plan to conquer the human world.

Belos didn’t say it’d NEVER be his plan… Just that this specific goal doesn’t involve that, not necessarily. Plus, he’d argue that any conquest would come fully as a means of self-defense, which… Would not be wrong either, because there’d definitely be humans who’d reject the society that Belos would bring in, and seek to eradicate and/or control it for themselves too!

Once the Day of Unity’s crossover ensues, it seems the only magical liability that Belos would have to worry about is… Unbound biological witches, witches who DO have a bile sac, but aren’t under Belos’ control! Hence why he stresses to his coven heads;

“The larger your covens grow, the more power we have to unite our realms, where the worthy shall inherit a utopia free of wild magic.”

It’s possible Belos plans to use his coven bindings as a means of powering whatever magic he needs to pull this crossover off- I’ve speculated before on the demon realm’s solar system forming a glyph combo to do this, but it’s not out of the question that Belos would need a little extra power for such a massive event.

Perhaps Belos intends to drain the unused magic of every bound witch- After all, about 8/9ths of every bound witch’s magic is sealed away, presumably unused… So to Belos and his coven heads, they’re not really depriving anyone of anything by draining that unused magic?

Especially if witches’ magic can still replenish over time anyway (unless you’re cursed), plus spreading the individual cost that each witch will have to fork over for the Day of Unity, across more witches, is arguably the moral thing to do anyway!

Hence why coven bindings are necessary, not just to fuel the Day of Unity, but to also remove the final liability that Belos would need to deal with. Ideally, Belos wants every witch bound before the Day of Unity, so he won’t have to worry about any biological witch when the crossover occurs…

But at the same time, I doubt it’s strictly necessary- So even if it’s ideal, Belos is obviously going to go ahead with his crossover if there are still unbound witches. He can still deal with them later… They might have a bigger world to escape out into, which is why he stresses this be done sooner, rather than later, when witches are more confined to a smaller space and easier to find- But Belos still ultimately wins, one way or the other.

Belos’ plan and Day of Unity is unimaginably grandiose, horrifying, and worst of all… Makes so much sense, it connects everything together in a reasonable way! Though it only makes sense from a viewer’s speculative perspective, and in-universe from the perspective of Belos, for the kinds of goals he’s looking for of course.

From a general and moral perspective this plan is completely nuts and terrible, but in terms of what Belos is actually trying to accomplish, a society where magical is truly bound… (Albeit not an actual ‘utopia’ like he claims), I hate to say it but this works perfectly, and that’s terrifying! Unfortunately, it seems this fucker does know EXACTLY what he’s doing, very much! And Belos is batshit nuts.

And there’s a good chance that somebody in this meeting is very understandably not enthused with Belos’ plan, even outright intimidated, and determined to stop it as a result...

#the owl house #the owl house belos #emperor belos #speculation #analysis #day of unity #covens #theory #coven system

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youbloodymadgenius · 4 years ago

Text

Nothing Left (Ivar x reader)

A/N: This is my entry to @geekandbooknerd 2k Writing Challenge. Congratulations again, Hayley, you deserve each and every one of us 🌻

The gif is a dead giveaway: this piece is an angsty one 😬 Sorry about that but I feel like I can’t write fluff all the time 😉

Prompt in bold

Thanks to @zuxiezendler for beta reading this for me (hope you don't mind Hayley, but since it was for your challenge... 😉)

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

Summary: Leaving Ivar is not an easy task.

Warnings: angst; Ivar's temper; physical assault (no harm done, though); Freydis is beautiful; no happy ending (you've been warned).

Words: 2089

Crutch – right foot – left foot – crutch – right foot – left foot

You can hear him coming. Of course, you can.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" He's not yet in your shared bedroom and he's already shouting. Instead of turning around, you grab the little carved wooden wolf he gifted you many years ago and put it in your pouch.

As he stabs the wooden floor with his crutch, you can physically feel his anger. "You thought you could sneak out? Uh?" You know his jaw is clenched, and he's probably shaking with rage.

"This is what you intended to do, admit it!"

You just scoff. No, you didn't intend to sneak out, not in your wildest dreams. Not with White Hair's men everywhere, night and day.

A thump – his fist hitting the table, you'd say – and then a roar.

"ANSWER YOUR KING!!!!!"

Glancing over your shoulder, you give him a tired, defeated smile. You don't want to fight. You never wanted to. "What does it look like to you, Ivar? Do you really think I'm trying to sneak out? Of course, I'm not."

"Rumors are false, that's what you're saying?" He snorts and, taking two more steps into the room, he joins you. "What's that, then?" He gestures angrily toward a wooden trunk, filled to the brim with your belongings, mostly dresses and a few jewels.

"I'm leaving, if that's what rumors say, Ivar, I'm just not sneaking out." You speak softly while closing the trunk.

A wide-eyed look on his face, he can't hide his surprise at your easy admission but he quickly pulls himself together, straightening up and towering over you.

"You can't. I forbid you." Giving you an intimidating look, he grits his teeth.

You barely shake your head. There's so much sadness in your heart. "Of course, I can. I'm not asking for permission, you know? I'm leaving, whether you like it or not."

That's when he explodes, his bottom lip quivering. "I SAID, I FORBID YOU! FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE, YOU WILL DO AS YOU'RE TOLD, Y/N! I. AM. YOUR. KING!"

His scream is so loud that you can't help but take a step back. But you don't lower your gaze. You won't. You can't. So, keeping your chin up, you inhale slowly. "And I'm still a free woman, Ivar. I'm leaving today."

You know the man you once loved is not going to make that so easy for you. So, you're not surprised when he grabs your wrist so firmly you can't shake him off. Tossing his crutch on the floor, he places his now free hand on your shoulder. Looking at him, you can tell you've rarely seen him this angry. Never releasing the pressure on your wrist, he throws you against the nearest wall so hard that the back of your skull makes a resounding "clunk".

He leans in close to you, his breath stinking faintly of honeyed mead, and presses the weight of his body against you. "You're not leaving, Y/N." He then moves his hand from your shoulder to your throat and the air is immediately stolen from you as you stare into his now darkened eyes. With your right hand still pinned to the wall, you only have your left to defend yourself. You're slapping him, clawing at him, but you may as well be tickling him with a feather – your scratches and punches have no effect on him whatsoever.

"I could kill you, Y/N. Maybe I should." The threat is clear, obvious, but Ivar loosens his grip just enough for you to breathe. He won't harm you. Not yet anyway.

Clearing your throat, you don't look away. "Maybe you should. It wouldn't be the worst thing for me, you know? One way or another, I wouldn't be here anymore."

Your words sting, you can see it on his face as he steps away, wobbling and dumbstruck.

Slowly leaning forward, you grab his discarded crutch before giving it back to him. "Here." You mutter before taking a seat on the bed. Ivar follows suit, flopping down next to you.

Blinking several times, Ivar is obviously trying to come to terms with what you just said. "So, you'd rather be dead than here? With me?" His voice is shaking and he fidgets with his fingers on his lap.

"Ivar, there's nothing left here for me… Nothing… We just don't understand each other anymore, you know that. I don't understand you anymore, Ivar. Since Wessex, you've changed so much…"

You've tried. You've tried very hard. But this man, this king, is no longer the man you fell in love with.

"It's about Sigurd, isn't it?" Ivar asks sadly, but you immediately shake your head.

"No Ivar, you know it's not. I told you, even though I wish you hadn't killed him, I understand why you did it. And I know you didn't want to."

"It's about my legs, then." His face suddenly hardens but you know him, he always hides his pain behind anger. "I knew it. I knew this day would come. You're tired of the cripple, admit it."

Without thinking, you grab his hand, entwining his fingers with yours. As much as you resent him for what he has become, you can't let him run himself down like this. " It has nothing to do with your legs. Your legs have never bothered me, and they never will. You're stronger than all other men, not in spite of your legs, but because of them. Actually, you're the strongest man I know, and I've always felt proud to walk beside you, or to be your woman. I forbid you to doubt it."

"Why, then?" Ivar is so soft now, seems to be so… broken, you have to remind yourself why you're leaving. You have to remind yourself of the horror.

Closing your eyes, you conjure up frightful images behind your eyelids.

"You killed Margrethe, Ivar. You didn't have to do that."

He tenses beside you, releasing his hand from your grip. "She was talking rubbish all the time, she was spreading rumors about me, you know that!!"

"She was insane, Ivar! She was no danger, neither to you nor to anyone. And as for the rumors, I'm loud enough for people to know that you can pleasure a woman. She was harmless, and you killed her, and that, Ivar, I can't understand. And then, you did worse. You killed Thora." You can't help but wince, the stench of burning flesh still so vivid in your mind, you'd swear it's real.

Fuming, Ivar points an accusing finger at you. "She defaced my image. She was plotting behind my back. She was conspiring, criticizing me. She saw me as a tyrant while I was just trying to rule well. She was a FUCKING DANGER!"

Startled by his shout, you stand up hastily. "You burned her alive, Ivar!! You burned her entire family. Asbjorn, her brother, had not yet seen his tenth spring. And you killed him!" You know he can see the disgust on your face, and the truth is, you don't care. He deserves your disgust. He deserves your contempt. He deserves you falling out of love with him. "Thora was your brother's lover and she was my friend and you burned her alive!!! How could you?" Your hands tangled in your hair, you shake your head, still barely able to process the horror of what he did.

"And what was I supposed to do, huh?" Ivar seems unshaken, and it strengthens your resolve. He doesn't know between good and evil, not anymore. You want to reply that he could have exiled her, or had her thrown in jail, but to what end? What's done is done, and your former lover is a monster now.

"It doesn't matter, Ivar… What matters is that you're like a stranger. I don't know who you are anymore. Since this girl, you've changed." You shrug, blinking back tears.

Ivar rolls his eyes. "So that's what it was all about? I can't believe you're jealous, Y/N. This girl… It's just a... thrall"

Oh gods! There's none so deaf as those that will not hear, right?

"I'm not jealous, Ivar. She was naked on your lap, but I'm not jealous. Or maybe I was, but it doesn't matter anymore. And I don't give a damn about what or who she is. But she was whispering nonsense in your ear, and since then you've changed. I don't recognize you anymore. You're no longer the man I loved, Ivar..." Your words are genuine, your heart full of sorrow.

Still sitting on the bed, Ivar tilts his head. "You... You can't leave me, Y/N. What... What will I do without you?" His quivering voice sends shivers down your spine. But you won't change your mind. This man in front of you, unsure and insecure, is nothing but a ghost of who he once was. The boy you loved is gone. Dead. Killed by his inner demons.

Swallowing, Ivar slowly stands up, and frowns when you step back. "Y/N," he speaks again, reaching out but to no avail as you stubbornly put your hands on your back, "you're the person I don't need to explain myself to – not when it matters. You see everything I am and you don't run away from it. I... I can't do without you."

Your eyes filling with tears, you shake your head. "I can't be this person anymore, Ivar. I've tried, but I can't. I don't know you at all anymore. You've become the monster that people thought you were. You're paranoid, and narcissistic, and self-centered. You're cruel, and mean, and fearsome. I won't lie, sometimes I still see a shadow of the man – the boy – you used to be. But most of the time, what I see in your eyes is something scary and unfamiliar. I have said it before and I will say it again. I don't recognize you anymore, Ivar. I don't know who you are. You've done terrible things, which I cannot and will not forget and forgive. That's why I'm leaving." Pointing to the trunk, you bite the inside of cheek until it bleeds. "I'll send someone to get it later."

Heading out, you don't wait for his answer. There's nothing he can say that is going to change your mind.

Yet, you stop in your tracks when he calls your name, "Y/N!" his voice sounding like a wounded animal. Slowly turning around, you can see a single tear running down his face. "Please..." He begs and it kills you, because Ivar the Boneless doesn’t beg; never begs. For a fleeting moment, your resolve falters. Maybe you can still save your love. Maybe you can bring back the man he was. Maybe it's not too late. Maybe...

And then, a shadow slips between the heavy doors of the great hall and you recognize the thrall. She's undoubtedly beautiful. Stunning. Gorgeous. Flawless.

Without even according you a glance, she walks with a confident stride and as soon as Ivar sees her, you can tell you cease to exist for him. Enthralled, he watches her every step, a sparkle dancing in his eyes.

Tears flow on your cheeks, but it doesn't matter. You were right.

This is the end.

It's like torture but you can't bring yourself to walk away. So, you watch. You see Ivar closing the gap between them, inviting her to sit down, pouring mead into a cup and handing it to her. "How are you? I've been thinking about you." You feel like you're going to throw up as you see the smile on his lips; as you realize how easily he forgot about you.

His next question nearly kills you. "Are you married?"

You can't believe your ears. You can't stay here anymore. You can't breathe.

You don't want to hear her answer. You know what she will say. And at this moment, deep down inside, you know he will marry her. Of course, he will. He will marry her because she will always be willing to whisper in his ear what he wants to hear.

A blond woman, attractive and seemingly submissive – you know better, but Ivar doesn't –swaying her hips... That's all it takes for Ivar to forget you.

You. Can't. Breathe.

You won't die here from a shattered heart, though. Your pride won't allow it. So, stumbling, your head spinning, you walk away, your fist in your mouth to keep you from screaming.

You were right. There's nothing left.

Nothing.

🛡⚔️🛡

@geekandbooknerd @waiting4inspiration @honestsycrets @lisinfleur @saldelys @gearhead66 @inforapound @readsalot73 @milkkygirls @xbellaxcarolinax @shannygoatgruff @zuxiezendler @a-mess-of-fandoms @hecohansen31 @lonewolf471 @ivarthebloodyking @fuckindiva @tgrrose @didiintheblog @peachyboneless @pieces-by-me @funmadnessandbadassvikings @ethereallysimple @destynelseclipsa @cocovikings23 @xceafh @mrsalwayswrite @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @pomegranates-and-blood @jadelynlace

#ivar #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar fanfic #ivar fanfiction #ivar fic #ivar imagine #ivar l #ivar vikings #vikings ivar #vikings imagine #hayleys2k #no happy ending

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juletheghoul · 4 years ago

Text

Paradisum Chapter 2

Marcus Pike x F!Reader Priest AU Pairing: Father Marcus x F!Reader Word Count: 1.6K Warnings: Smut 18+, PIV sex (wrap it up), dirty talk, heavy blasphemy

Masterlist Series Masterlist

Father Marcus was not there the next Sunday.

In the back of your mind, you had known he wouldn’t be there before you walked into the church; didn’t stop you from being disappointed. You asked about his absence after, trying your very best to sound concerned.

“Father Marcus was feeling under the weather. I’m sure he’ll be back next Sunday, thank you for asking I’m sure it would make him very happy to know of your concern.” The older, much more paternal priest assured you with a kind smile.

Oh yes. He’ll be thrilled.

You smiled and gave him your most devout look as you told him how much you were praying for Father Marcus’ quick recovery.

The next Sunday you decided to show up much earlier, at least a couple of hours before the first mass was scheduled to start. It was still dark out and you vaguely wondered whether anyone would even be there at this time. Your instincts paid off when you walked through the mostly empty church, happy to find him standing alone at the altar going over his sermon. Part of you felt guilty, another part of you remembered how his fingers had felt inside you and it eclipsed the guilty part.

He didn’t see you come in.

“I hope you’re feeling better today Father Marcus, you look very healthy.” You saw that he nearly jumped out of his skin, obviously used to being alone at this time.

“You shouldn’t be here.” he frowned slightly but he didn’t move away.

“Are you angry with me Father?” You looked at him with hurt on your face as you slowly made your way closer to him.

“Listen, what we did, it shouldn’t have happened. I don’t know what came over me and I don’t want that to happen again.” You thought he was being sincere but whether he was aware of it or not he looked you up and down as you approached and it shot straight to your core.

“Didn’t you enjoy yourself Father? It seemed like you did.” You asked in an innocent tone that sounded anything but. He sighed and brought his hands to his hips, signalling that he meant business but you noticed that beautiful flush creep up his neck and it made you smile.

“It was a mistake. Of course I enjoyed it but I’m a priest, you’re a parishioner, as beautiful as I think you are it was an error in judgment and I’m trying to make a-amends.” His voice faltered slightly near the end as you stood before him. You tentatively put your hands on his chest. Innocent really. It was so warm under your palms and it made you sigh slightly.

“You think I’m beautiful?” You looked up at him through your lashes as he frowned slightly. The blush was spreading and his ears were bright red.

“That’s-that’s neither here nor there... we can’t do this.” His voice low and serious, but he didn’t move your hands away. He watched it as you slid them down slowly towards his stomach.

“I just want to make you feel good Father, don’t you like me?” Your hands came down to rest on his belt and you slowly pulled him forward so his chest was flush with yours. He didn’t respond, his brows furrowed and his eyes closed. You wrapped your arms around his middle as you placed little open-mouthed kisses at the hollow of his throat. Your tongue tasting his skin. He breathed hard and groaned, you could feel his cock hardening against you and it make your cunt ache.

“Don’t you want to kiss me?” You asked, licking your bottom lip slowly. He unconsciously copied you as you brought your face closer to his, holding back slightly, letting him make the choice to follow through.

He didn’t disappoint.

He kissed you roughly, crashing into your mouth with a bruising force. You moaned into his mouth and he used the opportunity to lick into it. He slanted his mouth against yours, he couldn’t get close enough. His breathing was erratic and his hands came up to pull your face closer, impossibly closer. Frantically holding onto your face, the back of your neck, your shoulders, whatever he could get his hands on. He needed you closer still. Your hands joined his in exploration, you ran your fingers through his hair scratching lovingly at his scalp which earned you a moan you felt in your chest. His hands constantly roving as you pulled his shoulders close to you. He broke away from the kiss to focus his attention on your neck, the shell of your ear, the pulse point at your throat.

“I told myself this would never happen again, but I can’t stop thinking about you, this is wrong...” He trailed off as he kissed you again despite his words. You gasped slightly as he lifted you onto the altar but quickly recovered, making space for him between your legs. You felt the thick press of him against the flimsy fabric of the skirt you were wearing and you could feel the proof of your arousal soaking your panties.

You helped him by lifting your skirt up and tucking it into your waistband, he looked down and groaned when he saw the wet spot between your legs. You used the moment of distraction to undo his belt quickly, making quick work of his pants to get his cock out. He hissed when wrapped your fingers around him to stroke him slowly, as you lifted your shirt and pulled up your bra to free your breasts.

“Is this what you think about? Me spread out, my pussy soaking wet for you?” As he watched you stroke him, you did your best to scoot back just enough to bring your legs up. Spreading them so he could see just how much he excited you. You slid your panties to the side and he let out an almost defeated sound.

“Isn’t it pretty? It’s all for you, look how excited I am for you baby. Don’t you want to fuck me?” You took your hand away from his dick and shimmied out of your underwear, he helped you. You wrapped your legs around his hips and used them to bring him closer to you. You used your fingers to gather some of the slick at your opening and used it to stroke him gently.

“Dear god..” he whispered as you rubbed the thick tip of him against your clit. You smiled at the rapt look on his face as you lined him up at your entrance, guiding him in. The only thing better than the stretch of him, was the utterly wrecked look on his face as he slowly fed himself into you. You felt so full, you moaned when he bottomed out and at the sound, he rested his face into the crook of your neck. hHe started rocking back and forth slowly and you could feel his jaw clenching, he was not going to last. You grabbed his hand and brought it to your clit, you wanted to cum around him.

“God, is it always this good? Does it always feel like this? Jesus - fuckkkk- you’re so fucking warm- so pretty- I think about this.. t-think about you all the time- get so, g-get so fucking hard..” his thoughts spilled out of him as he started to thrust harder. His thumb on your clit; remembering exactly how you liked to be touched.

“Isn’t it good baby? Doesn’t my pussy feel good? God I’m so wet for you Marcus, please, please make me cum..” Your words spurred him on and his other hand grabbed tightly at your waist, holding you in place. You grabbed at his hair, bringing his mouth to your breast- he got the hint and quickly took your nipple into his mouth, sucking and biting at it softly, moaning into your skin. You felt your orgasm coming fast.

“Harder oh god, yes, yes please harder” You were begging now, he picked up the pace and the wet, obscene sounds coming from your joining were echoing in the room. The sounds causing another wave of slick to leak out as he fucked you.

He rubbed your clit a little faster and moved to your other nipple, and then stars exploded behind your eyes. You felt the pleasure radiating out of you in waves that reached the tips of your fingers and toes, your body contracting around his. Your orgasm pushed him over the edge and it hit him hard enough that he didn’t pull out. He seized with a loud moan around your nipple and you felt him paint your insides, his cock twitching violently inside of you. You pulled his face up to kiss him thoroughly. He pulled out of you and looked down to see his cum slowly leaking out of you. He swore under his breath at the sight, you brought your hand to where his eyes were and swiped a finger through the mess he made and brought it to your mouth. His jaw slackened and he closed his eyes, seemingly trying to reign himself in. He took a couple of deep breathes as he tucked himself away and tried to straighten himself out. You hopped off the alter and did the same, you could tell the post-orgasm bliss had now shifted to post-orgasm clarity.

“People will be arriving for mass soon.” He spoke quietly, not quite looking you in the eye, chastened.

“Can’t wait to hear your sermon Father.” You smiled sweetly as you made your way back down to sit in a pew.

You stayed, and as you felt his cum slowly leaking out of you throughout the service, you smiled.

—————————————

Tag-list: @foli-vora @frannyzooey @danniburgh @sambucky21 @greeneyedblondie44

#paradisum #pedro pascal #marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x you #the mentalist #pedro pascal x reader #marcus from the mentalist #pedro pascal fic

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ijustwant2write · 4 years ago

Text

The Cheat-Thomas Shelby x Reader

(GIF credit to @myimaginesworld)

Masterlist

Summary: (Y/N) makes the biggest mistake of her life in one night, praying that her husband will never find out. But no matter how hard she tries to hide it, Thomas Shelby knows everything.

Characters: Thomas Shelby x Reader

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

(Y/L/N)=Your last name

Warnings: Cheating, swearing, mentions of weapon, angst, arguing, divorce, threats, rape, violence, death

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Why had I been so stupid?

I was a reckless woman, a cheater, a filthy, lying cheater. He didn’t deserve this. Not after everything he had been through. Not after everything he had done for me. Yet here I was, hunched up in shock whilst laying in another man’s bed, miles away from my own home.

My wedding ring reflected the light coming through the window, reminding me that I was indeed a married woman. My eyes shut quickly, blocking out the sight of it. It was a cruel tease, rubbing the salt in an already huge open wound. How was I supposed to get out of this? What was I going to do?

The truth is I’m not going to get out of this and I can’t do anything about that.

Everyone knew who I was. I wasn’t going to sneak away easily. If someone spotted me, Tommy would find out almost immediately. Sometimes it was scary how powerful he was. The stranger beside me was still asleep, giving me the chance to get away. Slowly shifting out of bed, I shivered at the coldness, my body covered in goosebumps within seconds. Our clothes were tangled up together, just as we were last night, meaning it was taking longer than it should have for me to escape. I hadn’t even put my underwear back on before I heard him stir. Freezing, my head whipped round to see if he was waking up, and much to my dismay, he was already looking at me, a smirk on his lips.

Without hesitating, I grabbed my purse from the floor, not even fumbling as I pulled out my gun, aiming it right at his head. His eyes widened, mouth falling open in shock.

“If you speak a word of this to anyone, or even think about it, I’ll have a Peaky Blinder take your eyes. Or I could get it all over with now and save you the pain.” I threatened.

He furiously nodded, not able to say anything.

“You don’t know me, you never saw me, and you were never with me. Do you understand?”

He repeated his actions, managing to squeak out a ‘yes’. I felt like I couldn’t move, that if I did, he would somehow shout out to the world that we had slept together. What the fuck was I supposed to do now?

(Y/N), you’re standing stark naked in front a man with a gun.

“Where’s the best exit to sneak away?” I composed myself, slowly lowering the gun.

“O-out the back. It’s a tiny alleyway.”

Standing still for a few more seconds, I made sure he wasn’t going to do anything stupid, continuing to hastily change back into the clothes from the night before.

“You got a hat? A coat?”

“Downstairs.”

“Good, remember what I said. It wasn’t a bluff.”

Rushing downstairs, I took the hat and coat he spoke of, glad that they were big, better to hide myself with. Finding my way to the kitchen, I spotted the back door to the tiny yard, which had a gate leading to the alley. Although I was quick in my step, I had to look normal, not suspicious. It was still very early morning, a slight fog layered the streets (good, another advantage for myself). My mind began to relax a little, seeing that no one was about, until a distinctive voice called out to me.

“No point hiding Mrs Shelby.” Johnny called out from down the street.

He was leaning against a car, obviously borrowed from Tommy, hands in his pockets with one leg crossed over the other. I glared at him, quickly checking my empty surroundings before marching over to him.

“Keep your voice down!” I hissed at him, worried that people would be spying through their windows.

“He knows (Y/N).”

I hated the look on his face. It was a look of disgust, bewilderment, he couldn’t believe I had done such a horrible thing to the man I loved. Why would a woman who had it all, throw everything away in one night? I was married to one of the most powerful men in the country, he could give me anything I wanted, provide protection, money, anything I asked for! And here I was at the crack of dawn, in last night’s clothes and sneaking out like a teenager.

No more words were exchanged as Johnny drove me home. I could see why he was sent to fetch me. Perhaps he would try and get something out of me, or make me slip up. Any old bodyguard would have no effect on me. It also meant the staff knew less about the situation, though I knew word would spread around soon enough.

If I didn’t feel sick already, I surely did now. Johnny parked up all too soon in front of the house, the tires on the gravel making too much noise for my liking. The sun was only just peeking over the horizon, but I wanted to keep hiding in the darkness. Johnny opened the door for me, and I hesitated to get out, dreading what I could be in for. Would it be a screaming match? Would he be silent? Or would I be facing something more...violent?

Slowly stepping out of the car, I avoided eye contact with Johnny Dogs, trying to clear my mind before I had to face Tommy. My legs buckled slightly, and I couldn’t tell if it was from the after effects of alcohol or the fear surging through me. Going into this extravagant house felt wrong. I had decided to stay in a run down, tiny, dirty house squeezed in amongst other properties, rather than this luscious home last night. Now here I was, walking in as if I didn’t live here. This could be the last time I ever stood in these very walls.

If anyone else was here, they wouldn’t have to tell me where to go. He was going to be in his office, cigarette in his mouth and a glass of whiskey in his hand. He would remain silent as I walked in, take his time, maybe down the rest of his drink before speaking. I knew Tommy. He was my husband after all.

My hands were clammy as I opened the door, seeing the back of him as he stared out of the window. I was right about the cigarette and glass. I silently took in a deep breath, approaching the desk timidly, as if I was a child getting told off. That’s how meek I felt, he was practically going to do that, but instead of being sent to my room, I was going to be kicked out of the house.

“This is late for you. You were never one to stay out that late.” he started, still not looking at me.

I struggled to think of a response.

“The only time you’ve seen the sunrise is when you waited for me, after that big fight. If I hadn’t married you before that day, I certainly would have then.”

I deserved that.

He turned to face me.“Maybe I should have held my breath.”

My voice was extremely shaky as I spoke, tears already rolling down my cheeks."Tommy, I could say this a million times but it will never express how deeply I feel this. I am so sorry for what I did. You know that I would do anything I could to change all of this-"

"You knew what you were doing."

"I-I don't know how to explain it-"

"You fucked another man, (Y/N). Plain and simple." he stubbed out his cigarette harshly, slamming down the glass at the same time.

"No, I ruined everything, I just...I don't understand why I did it!"

"I don't either. Come on then, let's figure it out together." I hated how patronising he was being.

"Tommy I-"

"It can't be me. I haven't slept with anyone. I've given you a good life, haven't I? Was there something you didn't like? Perhaps you didn't like the way the cooks scrambled your eggs in the morning? Or maybe the newest dress I bought for you wasn't up to standards for you?"

"Fucking stop it Tommy!" I raised my voice.

"Oh, you're raising your voice at me now? I didn't realise I was the one in the wrong."

"I know what I did was ducking stupid, and the most disgusting thing I've ever done. I've broken a promise from our marriage, I've deceived you, I acted as if I didn't love you, and for the life of me, I don't know why!"

"I'm not giving you time to figure that out."

"What?"

"I want you out of this house."

"Tommy, please-"

"You knew this was coming as soon as you woke up this morning."

"Yes, and I've been trying to think how I could fix this."

"Well?"

I opened my mouth, quickly closing it when I had no idea what to say.

"Ah, nothing. That's what I thought."

"Tommy-"

"No, fucking enough. You've done the damage."

"But, why can't we do something to fix this?"

"Because it's a big fucking mess. And I don't have the time nor patience to deal with something like this."

"Y-you're not even going to try? Just give up on us like that?"

"Might want to remind yourself what you did last night. I want you out of the house by the morning. You can have a portion of money to keep you going, I won't put you on the streets."

"Tommy, I love you! I want to forget this happened, learn from this-"

"Learn from this? Fucking learn?!"

He wasn't listening, and it was making me angry."Oh, like you're a saint and haven't slept with multiple women!"

"Not whilst I was married! You can try to justify all of this to make yourself feel better, but it won't change what you've done."

"I know! And it's killing me!"

“So how do you think that makes me feel?!” he shouted.“You betrayed me! You were one of the few people I trusted.”

“You can trust me!”

Tommy’s eyes were wide.“Are you fucking stupid?! I am not going to stand here all morning shouting at you. There is no resolving this.”

“B-but...”

“I can’t be with someone who goes behind my back. If this was the other way around, you would be thinking the exact same. So don’t tell me what we’re going to do, because we’re not going to do anything. It’s over (Y/N).”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I let out a heavy huff as I leaned back in my chair, staring at the numbers written out in front of me. After the divorce, Tommy stayed true to his world, giving me a big quantity of money. I had enough to buy a small house, I could live off of the rest for at least a year, maybe a year and a half. However, I knew I would have to start working again. I wasn’t against that, it would mean I could make friends at least. But it would be difficult to find an employer that wanted the ex-wife of Thomas Shelby.

Tommy was able to file for the divorce papers extremely quickly, meaning I was out of the house and his life much sooner than I thought. That didn’t stop me from trying. I apologised everyday, trying to convince Tommy nothing like that would ever happen again, even as the movers were taking my belongings out of the house. But hid mind was made up. I had lost him, I lost the man I loved.

I heard a thud outside, as if someone had slammed the garden gate. At first I tried to shake it off, it was slightly windy. Perhaps I didn’t put it on the latch properly. When I didn’t hear anything else, I ignored it, looking back on my calculations. I didn’t have to panic about money just yet, though it was still a good idea to be prepared. I was about to redo my numbers, wanting to double check my answers when another sound echoed outside. This time I kept my guard up, heading to my purse on the side and getting out my gun. Turning off the lights, I peeked out of the windows, checking all around the house, but didn’t find anything. There were no more noises, no signs of anyone trying to break in. I was being paranoid, because I found myself lying awake, gun clasped in my hand and staring at the phone, debating if I should call him.

“Hello?”

I had given in.“Tom, it’s (Y/N). Please don’t put the phone down!”

“What do you want? It’s the middle of the night.”

“You say that as if you have a regular sleep schedule.”

He didn’t reply.

“I’m sorry, this is going to sound stupid but I think someone is watching me. I heard noises earlier and just have a strange feeling, like the one I got when-”

“And what do you want me to do about that?”

I was shocked.“I...I had no one else to call. I just thought-”

“Go to bed (Y/N), there’s no one out to get you, not anymore.”

The phone was slammed down, and I couldn’t comprehend what just happened. Tommy may have hated me, despise me even, but what if I was truly in danger? Would he never be there to help me again? It seemed stupid to ask such a question, however, after having years of someone looking out for you. There was no rest for me that night, I couldn’t recall my eyes shutting for more than a second. Not only was I kept awake from the fear, I also couldn’t stop thinking about my ex-husband’s behaviour.

With heavy bags under my eyes, I dragged my feet along the pavement, arms aching from carrying all my food shopping. I hated how far away I was from my home on days like this. I wish I could have afforded to keep my car, another thing Tommy gifted to me. Trying to conjure up any sort of energy left from yesterday, I pushed myself onwards. But as I tried to keep positive, a man practically jumped around the corner of a building, causing us to collide, my food spilling everywhere.

“What the fuck?!” I snapped out of instinct.

“You can’t talk to us like that.” he snarled.

“Who? Actually, I don’t care.”

I bent down to pick up what I could, when someone from behind scooped their arms underneath mine, dragging me backwards. I screamed out loudly, making my body go limp and heavy to make it difficult for whoever had a hold of me. What made me more scared was the fact that there were at least three people walking by, all turning their heads away as if it made me invisible. Flailing around, my heart started racing as I realised I might not escape this, especially as we were met with more men.

“What are you doing?!” I yelled out.

“Avenging those taken from us, by your husband.” one of them growled.

“I’m not with him anymore!”

“Too late to go back now.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The two policemen fidgeted as they stood on the doorstep of Thomas Shelby’s house. They had no power over this man, he had somehow legally/illegally made his way up in the world, bought a huge house, multiple cars, lots of land...and always managed to cover up his tracks. However, today they had to forget about that, they were here on serious business.

Tommy sat at his desk, surrounded by a cloud of smoke from his cigarette. He was preparing for a family meeting, they had a lot of work to do. There was a knock at his office door, and he called for the servant to enter, not even looking up from his papers.

“Mr Shelby, there are two policemen here to see you.” they explained.

Tommy wasn’t phased. He knew he hadn’t left any tracks from any recent plan of his.“Alright, let them in.”

The policemen timidly entered, approaching the desk. Tommy didn’t bother standing, putting out his cigarette and waiting for them to speak.

“Mr Shelby, I’m afraid we have some...unfortunate news.” one of them started.

“And what would that be then?”

The officers glanced at each other, scared what could happen to them when they revealed the news.“It’s about your ex-wife, Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N). She’s dead.”

Tommy felt like his heart stopped for a second.“What?”

“She was found dead in an alley way. It appeared she was...forced there, raped, beaten and killed.”

His gaze fell lower, shock filling his system. (Y/N) was dead. She had called him too. She was scared and he did nothing because of the spite in him.

“We’re sorry for your loss, sir. But, we also need to have someone come confirm the body is hers. It’s procedure and-”

“Get out.”

“Yes sir. We will arrange something at a later time.”

The officers scurried away and out of the house as quickly as they could. The servant waiting on the outside of the door had heard every single word, instantly rushing to inform their co-workers. (Y/N) had been a good employer, she didn’t deserve to die that way.

Tommy let out a painful yell as he swiped everything off of his desk. papers went flying, the glass full of old cigarettes and ash smashed along with his glass of whiskey. He kept screaming, not knowing how else to let go of his rage. He pushed over chairs, smashed statues and it still didn’t help. His chest raised up and down as he breathed heavily. His eyes were like saucers, hands gripped into fists as he debated what else he could smash.

What would have happened if he had just helped her? She wasn’t asking for him to love her or take her back. He was the only person she knew that could protect her. She was alone, scared and asked for the smallest thing. Would she still be alive if he sent men out to patrol around her house? Could she at least escaped with a few bruises? Those men wanted revenge because of something he did, because of his killing. His worst fear had come true. (Y/N) was gone, and this was something he could never fix.

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sweettodo · 4 years ago

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Good girl ⟿ Hisoka Morow [ teacher ] x reader

Includes : raw sex, semi- public, praising, teacher x student. Reader is aged !

word count : 2,5k

this is for 200 followers, some more teacher stuff for you lil sluts <3 enjoy ! maybe I’ll write sun more 😏.

••

You knew it was such a terrible idea, you knew you would be in so much trouble if anyone found out; but how couldn’t you resist? He has quite the magic touch.

Plus, how could you resist, especially when you were his, and his only?

Professor’s pretty little doll, his little fruit, he could do whatever he wanted to you and you would be so much as begging on your knees for more, you were his; to fulfill his every urge and twisted need. He knew your limits, he knew not to subject you to any unwanted pain, but he also wanted to erect every nerve in your body and stimulate it until you were unable to walk; or move for that matter.

It wasn’t for the grade anymore, admittedly, it was never really for the grade to begin with, and not to mention, you were in too deep, you were falling in love with the man, thighs had just happened that you nor him could explain. He never failed at treating you like a princess, his perfect little girl.

It was hard to contain yourself in English class every other day; you didn’t know if it were just you, could it be one sided? Was he thinking about you as much as you were thinking about him? Nonetheless, you paid attention to nothing other than the man who certainly had you swooned, staring at his tall figure, muscular legs and that tight back, you were light headed and breathless when he would wear that constricting white button-up, just like today; the shirt tightening around his biceps whilst he wrote on the board, daydreaming about you being in his bed, vulnerable, tying you up to the bedposts and toying with you all night into the morning, per usual.

“Y/n?” You snap out of your childish gaze, everyone's eyes are on you, waiting for your response, you had no idea what to say and you quickly become flustered, “were you listening, y/l/n?” he crosses his arms; ‘well don’t act like my teacher or anything’ you scoff silently.

“Uh- n-no, sorry sir.” nervously chuckling, your teacher shakes his head, a small ‘tch’ as he continues to look at you in disappointment.

He sighs, followed by a quick and strict, “stay after class.” Your thighs immediately clench, sitting up in your seat and wiggling, he has to know what he’s doing, you nod and he continues teaching. If it weren't for his hold on you, you wouldn’t be having these sinful thoughts, he knew how to flip the switch, he knew how to drive you absolutely fucking mad.

You finish your assignment, now just waiting for class to wrap up, the bell finally rings, kids charging out of class to enjoy their weekend; you walk slowly to the front of your teacher’s desk, ready to face the wrath of the man, hes ushering kids out the door, waiting for the last kid to leave before he’s closing and locking the door behind him, shutting the shade to block anyone from looking in, he turns around and tilts his head, “what’s on your mind, I can’t have you zoning out in my class.” He interrogates, only a foot away from you, his arms crossed and tense, awaiting your response.

“I was just distracted- thinking about things…” you drag, looking down at your feet, unable to meet his intimidating gaze, his arms unfold, your eyes trail up his towering body, golden eyes burning holes into your skull.

“What were you thinking about?” he asks, “more specifically, what had you wiggling in your seat?” his hand tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, his thumb caressing your sensitive skin, chills riddling your bones.

“You, Mr. morrow.” you spoke under your breath, his eyebrow quirks up, obviously pleased with your forthcoming answer, “it’s just, what you’re wearing…” you mutter, he drags his thumb under your chin, bringing your head up, you could faint on the spot, the feeling he stirred up was indescribable.

“Yeah? You like what I’m wearing, princess?” He hums, you nod, looking up at him through your eyelashes, he chuckles, his hand trailing down to your throat, lightly squeezing, you were so in love with him, in love the way he touched you, in love with the way he took care of you, “You know, I just can’t take my mind off of you, you know that?” He says, taking his hand off your throat and grabbing your hand, leading you to sit on the end of his large desk.

“Really?” you reply, opening your legs only a little so he can stand closer to you, he replies with a small ‘hmm’ and places his hands on your bare knees. You subconsciously wore skirts almost every class, or leggings, to ensure easy access for your professor, this wouldn’t be the case if you weren’t such a hungry whore for your teacher. He rubs your thighs, only slightly going under the black skirt, you were tickled with excitement.

“Of course princess, you’re always on daddy’s mind, you know that.” You bite your bottom lip, legs opening a little more, “but, I can’t have you failing this semester, you know I don’t like it when you’re a bad girl, right princess?” He speaks, you nod.

“I know, I’m sorry, I’ll pay attention.” You ensure, your hand touching his belt buckle teasingly, a small smile on your face as Hisoka’s eyes glance down to see what you were doing, “maybe.”

He smirks, “My, are you saying I’m a bad teacher? That I’m at fault for your distraction?” His hands stop moving, removing them from your thighs, you shrug in response, taking his belt back into the grasp of your fingers, “do you want to get me in trouble princess? Imagine the trouble we would be in if I gave you what you wanted.” Your fingers begin to unloop the buckle, tugging him closer to you.

“I’m sorry professor, but that hasn’t stopped you before.” His eyes widen slightly, you knew that would get him going, his fingers reach the back of your head, tugging your roots yo your head is forced upwards, his other hand finishing the unhooking of his belt as he rips it out of the loops of his slacks, he dips his head down, kissing down your jawline until reaching the corner of your lips, stopping and you pout, he smiles when he sees your neglectful pout, he wanted to kiss you badly, but what was the fun of not watching you beg?

“On your knees, pretty girl.” it took you no longer than a second to slide off the desk and onto your knees, he laughs, “god, so so good.” He’s overcome with happiness when he sees you following orders, you unbutton his pants, already feeling the tightness of his growing cock beneath the fabric of his pants. Pulling them down, freeing him from those tight pants, the tent in his boxers got you beyond excited. You knead him through the thin fabric, his hand already bunching up your hair to clear your face so he could look at his dick destroy your throat.

“You like sucking my cock, don’t you? C’mon, open up.” your tongue slipping out, welcoming his rock hard cock to fuck your throat, he was happy to see you were so compliant today. His hands cup your face as he slides into your wetness, a little groan leaving his mouth as he slips further into you. He guides your head as he sees fit, not wanting to come within the first few seconds, he makes sure to go extra slow, he needs to save his seed for your pretty little pussy.

As he pulls out of your throat, your tongue swirls around his tip, he swears under his breath, followed by a mantra of your name, he shoves himself as far down your throat as he can, making sure you choke and gag so your throat can constrict around him, tears bubbling at the waterline of your eyes from the restriction of air, pouring down your cheeks, causing the black makeup to seep down your face. “Do you want me to fuck you? Right here?” He purrs, finally releasing you from around his cock, you pant, trying to fill your lungs back up.

“Yes I do, please fuck me, please daddy.” You beg, still on your knees, he smiles.

He pulls you to your feet, pushing you down onto the desk, “‘fucking love it when you beg princess, you need my cock that bad?” You look back at him, nodding, “let’s see how wet you are, yeah?” You lower your head and let him take over, the cold desk against your face making you tingle, he flips up your skirt, the draft of cool air making you shiver. His large hands kneading your ass, pulling apart your cheeks to let your underwear move towards your heat, he grabs ahold of your underwear, pulling it up your back, you gasp, the pressure of the fabric pressing against your screaming cunt, “You better keep quiet, or you’re going to be in much more trouble when we get home, okay pretty girl?” He’s moving your underwear down past your ass until they’re just above your knees caps, your legs spread enough for him to drag his wet tip up and down your cunt, teasing you before sliding his tip just past your entrance.

“Already sucking me in, good fucking girl.” he spits, your left clenching your teeth to prevent you from moaning out, he slowly fills you up, fitting him perfectly, his hips hit your ass, before slowly pulling out and plunging back in, you weren’t going to be able to keep quiet, covering your mouth with your hand as your teacher fucks you raw in a classroom.

“I- I won’t be able to do it, sir, I can’t stay quiet.” You moan, he picks up the pace, cockhead peeking at your cervix, the pain rung throughout your body, it hurts so incredibly good, you screw your eyes shut, keeping your hand glued to your mouth as you screamed into your palm.

“Shut up! be quiet y/n.” Hisoka hisses, trying to gain back some authority, but he failed miserably, he was falling apart at the seams, your pussy did magical things to him. Sweat beading at his forehead, he could barely keep it together, sloppy thrusts filling you to the max.

He pulls out of you, grabbing you by your shoulder and flipping you over, forcing you on your back over the desk, quickly pulling your undergarments off so he can pin your legs open and back so he can dive back into your cunt. While pinning one leg down, he uses the other to cover your mouth, his body leaning over yours as he fucks you again, your legs wrap around his waist, face inches from yours, breath fanning your face as he slams into you, you wail out in pleasure under his heavy hand, drilling into you mercilessly as you could do nothing but look at him with tears pouring from your eyes. He was animalistic, those once pretty and light eyes were now dark, devilish, full of lust.

You were so close to orgasming, the repeated pounding of that one spot was driving you over the edge, you gripped your legs around him tighter, clenching your walls around his thick cock as your eyes rolled back and you cream all over him, creating more of a slippery lube bathing his wet cock. He isn’t far behind you, the sticky sound of your hips slamming against each other probably could’ve gotten you caught, but you two were so high on cloud nine that all you needed to do was reach climax and then you could ensure you both wouldn’t get yourselves caught; Hisoka was so close, “god, this fucking pussy, all mine, keep squeezing me like that princess- god- I’m gonna fill you with my kids, til’ I’m pouring out of you.” He whispers into your ear, you whine under his hand, stomach tightening more and more.

Your hands find themselves either gripping his hair or gripping his back, wishing you had sheets beneath you so you could grip, instead of this desk. Maintaining eye contact is one thing Hisoka loved most, watching those beady eyes; they told him what you were feeling, whether it be pain, sadness, those eyes you had when you were at your climax, he loved those pearly little things.

His dick starts twitching, long, yet hard strokes as he slows his pace, staggered breathing as he releases into you, feeling hot liquid cover your walls, he stops and stays inside your soaked cunt for a few minutes before slowly pulling out, “Such a good girl, always doing what daddy want’s, you never cease to amaze me.” Catching his breath, his cheeks red from the workout. You lay there, somewhat unable to move, feeling both Hisoka’s and your own juices drip out of your cunt, seeping onto your ass and down to the surface of the desk.

Your Professor and you definitely took this privacy for granted, what were you two thinking? But that was so far back in your irresponsible heads. The sudden adrenaline rush you both are overcome with when someone is knocking on his classroom door, “Professor, I have a question about the homework,” sends you flying to your feet, pulling up your underwear and making a run for your desk so it looks like you were sitting there working the whole time, Hisoka is throwing his pants on and tossing his belt under his desk, shuffling towards the door, trying to compose himself as he is unlocking the door and opening it, a student stands there with a paper in his hand.

“Sure,” taking the paper from his hand, the boy glances behind Hisoka’s shoulder, eyes landing on my own, he sends me a look of confusion, your eyes widen; you looked a fucking mess, eye makeup smeared everywhere and most likely staining your face. There was no avoiding this one, you were beyond humiliated, dropping your head down to avoid your peers eyes.

“Making her cry Professor? That’s not nice!” He jokes, Hisoka glances over his shoulder and makes eye contact with you, a smug look covering his face.

“Maybe if she paid attention in class she wouldn’t be crying would she.” He taunts, you blush and look back down.

That was too close.

#hxh hisoka #hisoka morrow x reader #hisoka smut #smut #teacher #lemon #hunter x hunter #hisoka morow

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thefanbasewhore · 4 years ago

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About Time.

Summary: While Din has a hard time showing how he feels, it’s not take he doesn’t want to I’ve into them, he wants nothing more in this world but in order to keep you safe he makes some decisions that can strain your relationship forever. Reader has enough of it and finally says something to be ignored. Despite this she still does something that makes even the Mandalorian cry.

Warning/Content: Fluffy din, broken heart, din doesn’t know how to handle his feelings, emotional Din with first kiss between characters. Two idiots finally admitting their feelings for each other.

Paring: Din Djarin/Female Reader

Tag list here || Master list.

“Do you want some of these, is that is bug?” Your tone is teasing, a small laughing falling from petal like lips and Din can’t find himself to look away from the soft curve of your nose, eyes wrinkling with joy to match the most breath-taking smile even though it’s directed towards the child tucked inside the bag the slings across the Mandalorian’s chest he is rather breathless at the sight.

From the form of your jaw, the few dark spots that form against cheeks, he feels his heart stuttering inside his chest. The sun is hangs so high in the air, thick clouds can’t even contain the orange haze that hits your skin just right, illuminating the dips of collarbones, a natural glow that no one could even come close to. The shine reflecting off the beskar but you still manage to look up, pause and really give him something to be nervous about as the kind smile is now exclusively for the breathless Mandalorian.

Despite what others may think that the Mandalorian is ruthless, nothing but a cold stone killer he proves them wrong. Has an eye for acquired beauty, takes time at every planet he visits just to watch the sunset - if it’s over the forest, the bitter cold mountains or buzzing city, there’s just something about watching the colors of the sky collide, the dim light singing a silent lullaby with the promise of new life tomorrow when sun rises again. But nothing, absolutely nothing will beat that smile, it’s hurts to see it, makes his head spin as he’s consumed with thoughts of you, you, you.

Knees feel like they’re going to buckle underneath the weight of your smile, cheeks are instantly hot as he’s caught but with the way the sun touches your skin and glimmers against the natural highlights of your cheek bones, he could careless. So close, your so close he can smell the intoxicating scent of soap, gooseberries and spice, sweet but fierce, calm but firey. A surge of goosebumps makes him shiver feeling the heat of your body as you brush your hand along his arm unintentionally raising the sleeve of cookies teasingly, up and down towards the child. His bead bobs with your own, he’d following that smile to the pits of underworld.

The marketplace is full, buzzing with life, bodies knocking against each other in the afternoon rush, a few goers knocking against the Mandalorian and yourself but he quickly puts a stop to it. He’s closer, nearly attached at the hip, helmet following anyone who gets too close with a silent warning which has a few men gulping, turning back into the direction they came from.

“What else do you need?” The vocoder crackles under his baritone, thick and laced with a genuine concern that makes you bite the inside of your cheek. He must have reached out unintentionally for you, watching as your eyes flicker from his gloved hold that softly rubs your wrist to his face, cheeks flushing just a little as he pulls away - not sure if his actions.

“I think we have everything.” Face burning, but only because of how fast the Mandalorian moved away - like he was disgusted, impulsed he would ever touch you. He seems to notice the shift of temper, nervously trailing behind as you walk away without a second glance towards him.

His throat is weary, unable to speak because of just how try it feels. It’s awkward, lingering silence between you, he wants to know why. Nervousness stirs his stomach, beads sweat across his forehead. He’s so inobvious of your affections, it is absolutely infuriating at times. It’s not his fault, how could he notice? He can barely think with you so close. The sudden change doesn’t go unnoticed though, not daring to look up at him at least half way through the market place.

“Are you okay?” He’s clueless, completely unaware of your pounding heart, the question making you pause and freeze and he must have not been paying attention as he hits your back with a small huff through the static of the vocoder, knocking the wind from your startled chest. He curses under his breath, fingers spreading across the base of your hip to steady you. “Kriff, I’m sorry. Are you alright?”

“Fine.” The word is sharp, more harsh then intended and thankfully the Mandalorian’s face can’t been seen, confusion pinches his eyebrows, mouth dropping to say something, anything but the little wobble of your voice along with the small tears that gloss over eyes as him immobilized.

Unable to speak, not prepared nor what to say to the tearing beauty in front of him. What does he say? Does he let it go? Obviously you didn’t want to talk, but he doesn’t like the swirl of emotions in his own chest as he watches you turn, try to slip out towards the direction of the Crest but his hands grab your sides before he even register what is happening.

“Wait.. wait. Cyar'ika, why are you crying?” As the tears slip past long eyelashes he feels confused. “Where are you going?”

“Why do you always do this?” The words confuse the Mandalorian, make him step closer, reach for you but with every inch he steps forward you find yourself steering away. “You can’t keep calling me these nicknames, touching me and acting like nothing exist between us. It’s - it’s - it’s exhausting! Every time I bring it up, you ignore me.”

He never misses a beat, hearing the choke in your throat, voice rising an oculate as his heart pounds inside his chest. He pauses, completely freezes as the commotion causes uncomfortable eyes. Harsh and grumbled. “Not here.”

“You never want to talk about it! – ugh, you’re impossible!” While he didn’t particularly like your tone there are some truths behind your words, the sting of realization brazes his cheeks, makes him bite his lip, chewing nervously on the fat of it.

It’s true, every single word. He is impossible, difficult to talk too especially when it comes to feelings. He wants to blame it on his upbringing, feelings were never a factors, what he felt never mattered. He carried it all throughout his life but what really did matter in this point and time is how you feel. It matters to him, the way you pout if he doesn’t hold you close at night, when you’re feeling homesick, like a caged bird from being in the Crest for too long. He cares, cares so much but doesnt know how to show it.

Din Djarin doesn’t like change, he doesn’t like being unprepared, parting from a very stern schedule but once he met you, that all seemed to be thrown out the door, only coming up on a year but it feels like another life. Truthfully, he doesn’t know how to handle these feelings, they swell inside, make his heart four times bigger until he feels like it’s going to explode with just how lovely you are. So naturally, just like the way he was raised instead of handling them, he chooses to ignore them, let them dangle in front of your face with sweet nicknames, touches of a lover, promised that seem like nothing.

The Crest isn’t too far, camouflaged between trees whose think branches canope around it, the greenery hiding any proof the Mandalorian roams these parts, he didn’t have too. It’s almost second nature now, hiding the ship to guarantee the safety for his son and girl.

You don’t say another word, shoving through the rather large crowd, slipping through a few crack but so quickly that Din and his large mass of armor can barely catch up, calling your name but it’s no use as you’re swollowed into the swarm of people.

When the Mandalorian finally does make it to the ship he calls home he lifts the sleeping child from the brown bag, rockling him softly until he reaches the threshold of the upper belly of the Razor Crest, noticing the rather large lump of blankets. He pauses, his heart wants him to press further, peel back every layer of insecurity as the blankets would reveal your body under his fists but he shakes his head, clear the thought all together before placing the child next to you, placing the loose corner to cover him. The Mandalorian doesn’t come to bed that night or even the next following nights.

He doesn’t dare speak, the only time you do hear him over the course of a few days is a cracked scolding or coo towards the child but he now spends the majority of his time in the cockpit. He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t even acknowledge your presence. It’s like two ghosts passing in the night. It makes you regret even bringing it up, claiming his sweet touches were fake, that his kisses in the dark meant nothing. You know they do, despite how much he wants to claim their not, that he doesn’t care for you in the way, the memory of the smile that caresses your shoulder says different, the warm lips that melt against your forehead but never dare dive to the intoxicity of your lips. He used to hold you so close at night, warmth and familiarity fight away fear that may creep up on you late a night but now you find yourself nudging nose deep into the pillows just to get a glimpse of his fated scent.

Earthy woods, dewy morning pine smell mixed with the ringed, worn leather of his gloves. You never realized how much you loved it. Even right now, late hours of the night but early hours of the morning sitting up on the bed. The only sound is the heavy breathing of the little green ball curled up in Din’s spot, sleep doesn’t seem to come easy anymore.

You’re so exhausted, eyes heavy, crusting for the relief of closing but nothing can take away the aching of your heart. It hurts so much you find yourself pressing your hand against your chest, rubbing the skin like it would sooth the ache. It almost makes you want to march up the stupid, wobbly later and apologize but it’s hard when you meant every word you said.

You know it deep in your heart Din cares for you, he would do anything, die for you but living on this constant edge of “what are we” is almost as tiring as not sleeping for three days, at this moment you can’t tell which one is worse. He needed to admit it, stop playing heartless bounty hunter because he’s anything but.

He’s comes off as cold, stern and ruthless but he’s anything but. He’s kind, cares for others. You see it in the way he tries to understand, attempt to speak the languages of the people he meets in order to make sure they’re more comfortable. He gives the benefit of the doubt no matter the reputation of man. Maybe because it hits so close to home. To the outside world he is a cold man, will do anything to return his bounty but if anyone bothered to try, the world would notice the façade quickly crumbles.

You’re so wrapped up in just thinking, concentrating on every breath that falls from your erratic, heavy chest you don’t notice the way the ladder to the upper level rattles under the pressure of a man.

He pauses almost instantly, clearly not expecting the sight of you protruding forward, sore shoulders slumped. Not noticing the extra shadow you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to keep the small promise of tears from rolling over but it’s pretty much useless.

The tears come, flush against the heat of your face as you pull the blanket closer, turning the slightest bit just to check up on the sleeping child but tucked away in the corner the rather large silhouette catches catches your own reflection.

He pauses, the T of his visor never leaves the direction of your reddening face. There’s a small noise, a peak of his voice. It’s like he tried to speak, words dying in his throat, tries to hide it but the vocoder catches it.

Din feels at war. His heart just wants to climb into bed with you, kiss every single tear that you cry but his brain says the opposite. Be logical, it would never last, no one would want a life like this why would he subject you to it? Give you more of a reason to stay?

Besides it’s easier this way, you would never be safe. If there isn’t one already, there would be a giant target painted on your back. Especially with the child, you would never be safe.

Honestly, you don’t know what hurts more, the lack of sleep that pinches your eyes or the sinking of your heart as the Mandalorian walks away without a word.

The next morning is awkward, scratch that, the last few days have just weird. Din comes before you even manage to wake, taking the child to feed and wash him and keeps him in the cockpit while he tries to figure out where the last bounty has traveled to. Which is fine but all this time alone as left you.. bored.

Usually you would be up there with them, teasing the Mandalorian at the fact that his voice raises a few notches as he talks to Grogu, which would only result in a scoff but he would still murmurs in the annoyingly cute voice and call him his little co-pilot.

The words on the page in front of you start to blur, words grouping together, it didn’t make any sense no matter how many times you try to reread them. The ship is rather warmer then usual, not having to go outside to know it’s a beautiful, warm day and judging by your calculations, it was market day again.

You stand aimlessly, the lack of sleep making you shift on your feet, balance and coordination long gone. Movements are slower, messy but despite heavy eyes still are able to move though the belly of the Crest to find your bag, throwing it across your shoulder as you mindlessly press the button the shakes and squeals as the hydraulics of the descending ramp come to life.

You don’t want to be alone anymore, no matter how much the bed calls, the chattering of civilization and social interaction call you from just over the ridge. Before stepping out, you take one last look around, biting your lip as you nervously suck on it. It wasn’t a good idea to just disappear, just in case something would happen but truthfully, the Mandalorian doesn’t seem to care too much at the moment.

The first step into the forest is liberating, fresh air beings the color back to your skin, it’s easier to breath following the small trail towards the town. Fresh pine and dark green leaves that shiver with every low breeze, it nips your skin pink but it just feels so good to be out of the ship.

***

The laugh that falls from your lips is quite unexpected, the small human that extends his hand, offering you a beautiful, purple flower.

“Thank you.” The boy gives a shy smile before disappearing behind the stall of the vender, off to find his mother.

The market is buzzing, filled with laughs, venders shouting deals from every corner, the smells are beautiful, mixed with homemade soaps to mouth watering food. The colors are bright, no doubt to match the just as shining sun, bright oranges and sky blues from fabrics, blanket and clothing.

You find yourself smack dab in the middle of it, not really knowing where to start as the first smile in days touches your lips as people shove past you. It felt good to be out but the realization of why you were alone dropped your smile instantly.

“Are you alright miss?” The voice moving your head in direction, peering over your shoulder to notice the man leaning against one of the stalls, throwing the apple in his hand up then back down to his palm.

He was quite tall but not as tall as the Mandalorian. A scruffy dark beard that is cut low, leaving a shadow of darkness over the distal end of his prominent features. Cupid lips, the curve of his nose strong but the bridge slightly crooked, looks like it’s been broken a few times. Baby blue eyes, ones that are filled with concern as you realize how long you’re taking looking at him. He has silky, long curls.

“Yeah…” You finally answer, unsure of the words as he steps closer. His clothes look expensive, blood red fleece mixed with a pattern of gold. He gives you a small grin… And he’s not ugly.

His skin is flushed from it’s normal color, no doubt a little irritated from the brutal sun. He smiles at your reply, dimples and all. “Would you like an apple miss?”

“How do I know you didn’t do anything to it?” This makes him laugh, clicking his tongue as he flirty leans a little forward.

“I guess you must take a leap of faith, my lady. I’m sure one little, innocent apple won’t cause death to such a pretty lady.”

Your cheeks ignite almost instantly but the wide smile hides it. “My lady?”

“Well you never gave me your name.”

“You never asked.” You take the apple from his outstretched palm, watching and anticipating the bite but it never comes. Still skeptical of taking foods from a stranger.

“What is your name?” You answer, telling him as his hand covers your free one but right when you’re about to push him away he brings the ring on your finger closer to his face, running his own thumbs over it in amazement.

“What is it?” His eyes fill with so much awe at the stone, large and black. It looked like a galaxy, the stars inside of it moving, making him look up questioningly. “It’s moving, it’s amazing. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“It’s just a moonstone.” A gift from months ago, Din had shyly placed it in front of you, swearing Grogu picked it out but the way he lingered for a reaction told you everything.

He must have noticed how close he was but didn’t bother to move as his eyes widen. “Oh, sorry! I don’t get out much.” He must have noticed the pinch of confusion Where are my manners? I’m Prince Brydon.“

“Prince? As of prince of?”

He pauses, brows moving closer in confusion. “As of Aralan, the planet we are on..”

“Oh.” Suddenly you felt nervous of the man, giving him a polite but uncomfortable smile.

“I know I just met you but would you like to walk with me? Just for a little, I can offer you food or drink?” Who are you to say no to the prince?

You’re about to follow but a smooth grip that pulls you back by your elbow makes your head whip back. The orange tipped leather gloves never leave despite gaining your attention, instead pull you further away from the prince. Even though the Mandalorian’s face is completely concealed, there’s no hiding his anger, he visibly trembles, words are deep from his chest. “Where have you been? How long have you been gone?”

You look up at the prince apologically, feeling like a toddler getting a scolding especially with the angle of your arm. The baby is pressed against his chest with the other arm, cooing as he reaches out for you. His father’s displeased attitude rubbing off onto the green baby.

The Mandalorian is frustrated, so much he doesn’t notice the prince only lets a soft curse fall from the static as he releases your arm, mumbling a soft sorry as he extends the child towards you. You take him happily, bouncing him as he goes right to burying his petal-like ears into the crook of your neck. With that you hope the Din will just leave it alone, go back to not talking because right now the last thing you want to deal with is him. “You can’t just run off like that, what is something happened?” It felt good to hear him speak, it’s been so long and honestly the deep vibration of his vocal cords were soothing, husky with a odd element of security. “Who are you?”

The words were a little harsh as the Mandalorian finally notices the added presence, stiffening and taking two steps in front of you. Institutionally protecting the child and yourself. Din almost towers over him, broad shoulders blocking the prince from your peripheral.

The Prince speaks, claiming his title but Din looks unamused, still standing strong and straight, shoulder widening, slowing his strength. He’s sizing him up, the poor prince is confused, eyes dropping towards your own but Din blocks his way. Overbearing but Din has vowed in silence to himself to always protect you.

“Will you be okay?” The prince asks, unsure of leaving you with the metal man but you nod, giving him a soft smile. “Well It was a pleasure to meet you and your weird friend.”

The giggle that falls from your lips makes Din’s heart thump and chest fill with jealousy, the smile towards the Prince he’s one he’s never seen before.

***

Din still ignoring you but every few minutes looks past his shoulder to see if you’re still following. He doesn’t seem to care about the delicious smell of food, or singing of passerby’s, but you do, you keep stopping to look at the flowers, inquire about something to eat but feel suffocated by the Mandalorian. He’s walking so close that he’s practically ontop of you, hips pressed against the back of your own, trying to ignore the feeling of your ass pressed against him but the scowl on your face knocks sense into him.

“You don’t have to watch me.”

“Why? For you can run away again?”

You scoff, hand pressing against the cuirass of the armor trying to push him away. Truly amused by the challenge in his voice, the audacity of a man who didn’t care weather you were alive or dead for the last few days. “I didn’t run away. You been ignoring me for days and then scare away the first person who wanted to talk to me. Why do you care?”

The Mandalorian’s mouth drops behind the helmet, words trapped behind his teeth, they’re fumbling on the tip of his tongue, an apology so close but he can’t help but notice you’re looking past his shoulder now, brows moving closer in concentration and then widening but before he can manage to turn around to see you tackle him to the ground.

A large spray of blaster shots kick the dirt up from around you, curling yourself deeper into Din but laying across him, using your own body to shield him. Eyes squeezed so tight expecting pain and blood but nothing comes. It only last a few more seconds before the loud boom fills your ears, the smell of gun powder and heat fill your entire body and the shooter drops dead a few feet away. The source is right next to you, one of Din’s arms wrapped tightly around your waist, the other extended and gripping the just fired blaster.

There’s a moment of silence as everyone around starts to look up, realizing the gun fire is gone. Low chatter followed by heavy breaths, even your own chest betrays you. Din’s eyes never leave your own, pants cracked with static as his throat feels dry.

“Why did you do that?” The Mandalorian’s hands grip your face, don’t allow you to move from the captivating reflection of yourself in the helmet. Still on top of him but now he pulls you into his lap, a deep sigh racks his body. The orange tips of his glove shape against the outline of your jaw, keep your eyes on what you can only guess is his own. They’re gentle, applying just enough pressure to keep you up right.

One set of fingers rub the bumpy surface of your cheek bones, it’s gentle, savoring every moment of it. His chest falling and raising with faltering adrenaline but swelling with emotion.

Small tears pick his eyes, he can’t seem to care about the yelling and chaos that surrounds you, he leans closer, forehead pressing against your own. “Why did you do that? You could have gotten hurt - that was st -.”

He wants to finish the sentence but can’t seem to. It’s not stupid, it was incredibly dangerous, selfless but the action on it’s own filled him with such warmth and so many unsaid words. Never, ever has anyone risk their lives for his own. He’s speechless, can’t form words as the ball of emotion grows inside his throat, so big it barely allows air to pass through.

It’s so sudden you’re stunned when it happens, the rush of air from the force of his arms wrapping around your waist. He sits up, but it’s only to pull you closer into him until your head rests against his chest. Now it’s your turn to stop breathing, hearing your heart pound in your ears but still managing to hear the cracked gasp that falls from the helmet. His chest is moving to fast, the rise and fall abnormally pressing against your cheek. Fingers clutch his forearm, rubbing soothing circles as you try to ask him if he’s alright, the reason for his tears but he doesn’t allow you to. “Never ever do that again.”

“Din -.”

“Promise me, please. Never, ever do something like that again.”

He’s so suddenly filled with so much guilt, the look on your face when he walked away from your long night of crying is seared in his brain. Even now he feels guilty, it racks his body, makes his hold tighter as one hand comes to rub the soft strands of your hair. “Promise me.”

He suddenly can’t think of anything else except for how absolutely breath taking you are, and how this planet could be named his favorite just by the way it so generously let’s the natural light shine against your skin. He’s a complete mess, shoulders protruding forward, back starting to ache from being the man base of support for holding you and him up, no matter how much he tried to squeeze his eyes shut, blink away the tears he can’t help as they slide past eyelashes.

You notice almost instantly, he sees they way your hand outstretches to feel the points of the helmet. In that very moment, under the scrutiny of those eyes he feels three words touch his tongue, he’s leaning forward into your touch, mouth opening to finally say them but the bewildered, pure panic that widens your eyes has him looking around impending danger he’s too distracted to notice.

Just like that the both of you click, Din letting out a worried gasp. “Grogu.”

As if there wasn’t any other reason to feel like a terrible person already, he was so distracted by you, finally allowing you to peal back the layers and layers he’s built but forgetting his soon after an all out gun fire was pretty low on even his list. To be fair though, the way you looked at him was almost sinful, it would be a crime to look away.

The Mandalorian’s gentle fingers lift your thighs, helping you stand as he quickly stalks away, the child’s name break through the static, low and horse, no doubt trying to swallow the ball that made it so hard to even talk. He’s not injury, both of you know this. He’s a baby, lacks a little common sense but one of the smartest creatures you’ve ever met.

No doubt he sensed the danger, no wonder why he was so fussy. He most likely ran for cover to avoid the blaster shots. With wobbly legs you stand, using the stall next to you for support but the Mandalorian’s hand against the small of your back steadies you, the small child cooing from his fathers arm’s.

Almost as quick as the night he found you crying, he turns his back to you, heart dropping at the sudden coldness almost identical to the temperature of his shiny beskar. Small, unwanted tears gather in the corner of your eyes, just like that he was back to hating you, possibly ignore your presence for another week or so.

A smooth gush of air follows as he turns to face you, heart skipping in your chest as the shadow of his visor meets your gaze. Pushing Grogu closer to his chest. Mouth dropping in surprise as he extends his other, hand opening for your own.

“Let’s go home, Cyare.” He doesn’t give you much of a choice as he steps closer to fill the gaps between his fingers with your own. They trip back to the ship is quiet, not uncomfortable but clearly the both of you have a lot on your minds.

***

No one says a word, nightfall kisses the horizon by the time you return. Convinced nothing could calm the irregular pattern of your pounding heart, the heat on your cheeks never leaving, a reminder every time you look down and see your entangled fingers.

Once on the ship, he’s still silent, not daring to speak as he puts the child down and retreats to the cockpit, once the ship is up and out of the atmosphere you half expect him be dismissive again, spend the rest of the trip in the cockpit but instead are filled with surprise as the lights of hull flicker off. Instantly reaching out to find something to steady yourself on but instead strong, large arms wrap around you. They keep you grounded, steady as your eyes widen. The Mandalorian’s hot breath fanning your face, the ghost of his lips at the shell of your ear. “Easy, easy, it’s just me.”

Standing in complete silence, all breath void with fears it might scare him away. You’re so caught up in the heat of his breath against your face, so close to your lips which he never allowed himself to touch that the realization of his helmet being off almost sends you onto your ass, grabbing his sleeves to stand up straight.

Finally you can’t take it anymore, hands softly running over the smoothness of his jaw, coarse hairs of the patchy beard followed by the fly away hairs just above his lips, then to form over the soft flesh of his cupid shaped lips. This causes the Mandalorian to stiffen, a long breath parting his lips as he pulls you closer, stepping back until he falls onto the cot, bringing you down with him to straddle his lap.

Without thinking you start to lean in, the Mandalorian feeling the force of your body lifting up but turn his head for you feel the corner of his lip, the bluntness of the kiss against his cheek. This makes your skin on fire, embarrassed as your try to move away but the grip on your thighs doesn’t allow you to.

“I’ve never kissed someone before.” He admits lowly, just above a whisper trying to save you the embarrassment. The soft oh that falls from your lips is panicked as you try to pull the touch away but the Mandalorian is too quick, his palm squeezes your fingers, pulling them back to cup his cheek and nuzzling into it.

“We don’t have to Din, I should’ve asked.”

“No, no, I want to kiss you sweet girl.” The nickname alone is enough to have you melting into a puddle, knees weak and buckling but lucky for you, Din holds you up right. “I just don’t want to mess it up.”

Staying silent, not daring to move but instead allow Din to take his time, experiment as he starts to lean closer and do it on his own time.

Time felt like it almost stopped when his nose nudged your own, lips barely touching, hovering as he lets out a soft sigh, leaning closer until you feel his eyelashes flutter against your own. He’s so gentle as his lips finally meet yours, only being able to focus on how soft they were against his own.

Every breath he took smelt like you, wild flowers and vanilla as his lips shape against your own. Whole body tingling as he pulls you closer against him, giving him a better angle to kiss you at, he pulled away for just a second, catching his breath before claiming your mouth again. Filled with emotion, heavy and soft as his tongue slips past your lips.

You’re so caught up in the way he feels you don’t notice the fingers that slip under your shirt, feeling the soft flesh of his skin. A soft moan falling from his parted lips as you shift on his lap.

tags: @coonflix, @mudhornchronicles, @kaermorons @winter-rxn @carlygrayson @naturalswifty89 @Curiouskeyboard @idjitdestiel @tossacoin2yourwitcher @victias, @altarsw , @nikkixostan , @moonlightnumbsthepainifeel, @est19xxshit , @owloveyounever , @engie115@dinsbeskar, @akatasukilove , @nerdalert-andi , @mailee420 , @you-and-i-deserve-the-world, @thatonedindjarinfan, @Sporadicshoebailifffish, @coldlilheart, @starsvck, @agirlinherhead, @lokismidnight, @expellopatronum, @dinschutta , @queenbbarnes, @ironbabey, @i-ship-it-ironically, @coonflix, @ilikemymendarkandfictional, @maileecabudal, @buckysalefty, @fangirlmendes, @godohammers, @mermaidbrina, @capsheadquaters, @i-ship-it-ironically

@dinsbeskar

#din djarin #din dijarin x reader #din djarin fan fiction #din djarin x reader #din djarin imagine #the mandolarian #the mandolorian imagine #the mandalorian #the mandolorian x reader #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine

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sevlgi · 4 years ago

Text

promises, promises

requested: yes

group: dreamcatcher

pairing: bora x fem!reader (plus bora x siyeon)

genre: basically just angst

contents: established!relationship between bora and siyeon but they don’t love each other, coworker!au, y/n just pines alone lmfao, but there IS a happy ending

warnings: none

synopsis: Bora and Siyeon are so used to their relationship that it feels like they can’t ever change. But at this point, is continuing together really their best option?

a/n: afdfasfkasdn i hope y’all like this!!!

word count: 2.6k

“Hey, Bora, if you’re coming home tonight, can you bring some takeout?”

The word ‘if’ echoes in Bora’s headphones as she stares at her phone screen. Siyeon said the word so offhandedly in her message, obviously used to her girlfriend’s constant absent and apparently unfazed by it, but it stops Bora herself right in the middle of the road as she listens to the message.

Honestly, her situation with Siyeon is... difficult. They’ve lived together for years, so they’re both used to having schedules that never match. To an outsider, the minimal amount of time that they actually spend together would be nothing short of a red flag, but neither Bora nor Siyeon think much of it.

There’s a certain comfort of knowing what waits for you at home, even if it is figurative most of the time. Bora has had the same emergency contact for years, and she always knows who to call if she has left something at home. She never has to call a babysitter, and whenever she gets hit on, she can say that she has a girlfriend of 5 years.

But maybe saying it like that sounds too much like a business contract.

The harsh reality is that the rare time she does spend with Siyeon is almost always filled with stilted silence, made awkward by two people both too exhausted to put effort into their relationship. And when it isn’t that suffocating silence between them, it’s anger, arguments that can be brought on by the most marginal mistaken word.

All of that culminates into the fact that Bora doesn’t really go home. Neither of them have the energy to actually talk things through, but neither of them want to let go of that familiar stability either. So they’re girlfriends by name, and nothing else in their hearts.

Bora supposes that it’s as much her fault as it is Siyeon’s.

“Yo, Bora!”

A smile prods the corner of her mouth up, and she pockets the phone. “Wassup, bro?” she calls sarcastically, accepting the overly enthusiastic fist-bump from you anyway. “Since when do you greet me with ‘yo’, especially when you’re about to ask for a ride home?”

You pout. “Is it that obvious?”

“You never come after me after work ends for any other reason, so, yes.” Bora opens the passenger side of her car for you anyway, spinning her keys around her index finger. There’s a hammered silver heart hanging off the other side with her and Siyeon’s initials.

“If you wanted my company more often, all you had to do is say so,” you sigh. As always, you reach for the aux and plug it into your phone. “Are we making any pit stops along the way? Because I’ll shoot you a coffee as payment if you want it.”

“Actually, I’m gonna pick up some takeout for me and Siyeon.”

“Oh. Cool.” You pick some song that you’ve played at least 10 times in the past week, but Bora doesn’t comment on it.

She can’t help but notice that her passenger’s seat bears more evidence of you sitting there than anyone else. The seat itself is adjusted to the way you like it, and you have a habit of leaving your phone in the exact same place on the dashboard, the only rectangle that isn’t covered in dust.

Bora isn’t actually sure about how Siyeon would adjust her seat, actually. Before she can stop herself, she asks you, “Hey, Y/N. What would you say is strictly necessary for a relationship to work?”

You glance at her, surprised. “Uh. Are you forgetting that I’m single?”

“I’m taking that as a sign that the date from last night didn’t go well?” When you shake your head, Bora sighs, “Sorry to bring it up, then.”

“No, no, it’s fine. We only went out like three times.” You lean back to think about the question, biting on your bottom lip as you do. It’s endearing. “I think... sacrifice.”

“Sacrifice? What, like Simba’s dad sacrifice?” Bora tries to joke.

You roll your eyes, “You watch too much Disney, dumbass. I mean like... taking pictures together because one person likes to, even if the other doesn’t. Alternating your favorite pastas, taking like one hour of work off each to have a date night. That kind of sacrifice.”

“Oh. I get it, I think.” Bora does understand it; she thinks about how often Yoohyeon misses a day of work, because she claims that one paycheck isn’t worth a missed anniversary. She thinks about how JiU does the pasta thing despite not really liking Yoohyeon’s favorite, and she thinks about how she and Siyeon never do that anymore. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

Bora gets out of the car to get takeout at one point, but she’s deep in thought for the rest of the ride home, even when you wave her goodbye at your own place. Sacrifice, huh?

She thinks that the only thing she sacrifices is her wallet.

Siyeon opens the door for her with a small smile, though, which makes Bora happy enough. Her girlfriend says, “I’m gonna guess you got Chinese?”

“Thai,” Bora shakes her head. The apartment is cold because Siyeon read somewhere that it helps you fall asleep faster, but Bora herself hates it. “I don’t eat Chinese food much anymore, remember?”

“Since when?” Siyeon frowns, locking the door behind her. “Last I remembered, your favorite food was those dumb little dumplings from the place down the street.”

“Last year, yeah. It doesn’t matter, though, let’s eat. What did you do today?”

It’s a boring question, but the other woman accepts it gratefully. “Uh, went to work early, but I got lunch with my mom.”

“Oh? How is she?” Bora questions, already spreading the takeout boxes all over the table. She hasn’t seen Siyeon’s mom in a while, but she misses the motherly figure.

Siyeon shrugs and reaches for her chopsticks. “She’s fine. She wants to know when we’re getting married.”

Bora’s heart stops, and not in the good way. She and Siyeon have talked about marriage before, but it was all in the honeymoon stage, when they first started dating years ago. “Oh? What did you tell her?”

Her girlfriend raises an eyebrow. “That we aren’t even engaged, obviously. Unless I missed an important conversation?”

“N- yeah.” Bora stuffs a shrimp in her mouth to quiet herself, at least for a little bit. It’s not that she doesn’t want to get married-- she just doesn’t want anything to change.

Of course, Siyeon doesn’t let her shock at the question go. “What?” she prods. “Is getting married that scary?”

“I mean... do you want us to get married?”

Siyeon hesitates at that. Eventually, she shakes her head in silence, and that’s enough of an answer.

There’s really nothing wrong with their relationship. But as Siyeon bids goodnight right after she finishes eating, and Bora remains in the living room, she thinks that there might not be anything right anymore either.

Bora asks about the closest engagement ring store before she can stop herself, and you stare at her. “Are you two getting engaged?”

“No. Well, it’s complicated,” Bora sighs, turning right when her phone tells her to. “Siyeon’s mother wants us to get married, and I was thinking about what you were saying. It’s time to make some sacrifices.”

You stammer, “Th- that’s not really what I meant? I meant, like, take a day or two off work and get a vacation together, maybe talk things out for more than a minute? Not... proposing. Bora, I don’t...”

“Well, what would you do if you were in my shoes? Or, better yet--” Bora holds up a hand-- “what would you do if you were Siyeon? How would you deal with me, your girlfriend of 5 years?”

Suddenly, you feel like it’s 500 degrees in the car. But you answer, “I’d... I’d plan a trip. One of those cruises that offer dinners, and then I’d just try and talk with you. Bora, do you really think you’re in the right state to get married?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Bora questions. “We’re comfortable, you know. Siyeon got promoted a month ago, we make more than enough money to afford a wedding, and we’ve been together for so long, I don’t know anything without her.”

“I don’t mean financially,” you sigh. “I mean... do you think she’d say yes? Are you happy?”

‘Do you think she’d say yes?’ To be completely honest, Bora doesn’t know. She doesn’t even know what kind of a ring Siyeon would want, though she does know her ring size. She answers forcefully, “She will. I know it.”

“Okay.” You lean back, thumbs fiddling with your phone. “Bora? Would you mind dropping me off at work first? I don’t think I’ll be much help if I go with you.”

Bora nods. “Sure.”

She ends up buying a simple ring with a blue stone, something that won’t really make a dent in either of their bank accounts, but will still be enough for Siyeon to show off. The box is a heavy weight in Bora’s pocket as she arrives home, quite a bit earlier than she normally does.

“Siyeon-ah?” she asks, rapping on the door as she pushes it open.

“Bora? You’re home early,” her girlfriend replies, turning from where she is at the sink. For some reason, Bora’s relieved that it’s all Siyeon does at home when she’s alone, though there’s no reason for her to suspect anything else. “Did you get off work early?”

“Uh, I took time off.” Bora sets her bag down and takes her jacket off, watching Siyeon open the fridge for something else. “I... remember when your mom asked when we’d get married?”

“Yeah. I remember that, why?” Siyeon silently hands her a glass of water.

Instead of saying anything else, Bora takes the box out of her pocket and pops it open before sliding it over the counter. Blue glints brilliantly under the kitchen’s lights, but even to her, it looks dull.

Siyeon glances at her in surprise, saying softly, “Bora... that’s not what I meant when I told you what she said.”

“Then what did you mean?”

The younger woman sighs, leaning against the counter with her arms crossed. “I. Look, aren’t we happy just as we are?”

A little bit of anger fires up in the pit of Bora’s stomach. It isn’t that she seriously wants to get married, or that it matters all that much that Siyeon doesn’t seem to, but she put in the effort. Like you had told her to, she made a sacrifice, and it hurts a bit that it doesn’t have the effect she wishes it did. “You tell me, Siyeon. Didn’t you tell me when we started dating that getting married was your goal?” Bora demands.

“I did, and that was 5 years ago,” Siyeon snaps back. “Why are you so hellbent on this, anyway? I thought you never wanted to get married.”

Bora hesitates, but she still ends up being honest. She answers quietly, “To make a relationship work, we have to make sacrifices.”

“Don’t--”

“Siyeon. Do you still love me?”

“Obviously! What kind of a question even is that?” Siyeon bites back, anger starting to furrow her eyebrows. Bora wishes she could say that it’s an unfamiliar sight, but it isn’t anymore. “Who told you all that sacrifice bullshit anyway?”

“Y/N, not that it matters.” Bora’s hands clutching tightly in her hair, she sighs, “Look, I got it wrong, okay? I’ll return the ring--”

Siyeon interrupts, “Bora, do you know why Y/N told you sacrifices make relationships work?”

When the older woman doesn’t respond, Siyeon just continues, “It’s because she’s the one making sacrifices. She understands what ‘sacrifices’ should be in a relationship, and it isn’t you buying an engagement ring when neither of us want to get married at all.”

“Look, I don’t want to talk about it right now, okay?” Bora snatches the box up from the counter and grabs her keys again. “I’m going out.”

“What, to talk to Y/N?” Bora turns to stare at Siyeon, who only stands there with crossed arms and the air that says she knows she’s right.

Bora doesn’t respond, but she does slam the front door after her a little too hard.

Whenever she needs to talk to you, Bora takes advantage of the fact that you can always be found in one corner of the office. Unlike all your other coworkers, who like to roam and chat, you’re always in the same space, unless Bora drags you out.

And she does, slamming her palms down on either side of your desk. You don’t flinch, and she says lowly, “I need to talk to you.”

“Okay, but did you have to mess up my sticky notes?” you attempt to joke. Bora just grabs your wrist to tug you out of the office, leading you straight to her car without a word to anyone else. “Bora. Bora, what is this about?”

She takes a breath as soon as the two of you are sitting down, your eyes completely trained on her as she says, “Siyeon said something.”

“Oh. I’m assuming you aren’t engaged, then?”

“What- no. No, nothing close,” Bora sighs. “I tried making a sacrifice like you told me to, because I thought she wanted to get married. Spoiler, she doesn’t.”

You groan, placing your head in your hands. “Bora, that isn’t what I meant.”

Siyeon’s words about you understanding ‘sacrifice’ ring in the other woman’s head, but Bora stays silent and lets you continue, “Look, sacrifice in a relationship doesn’t mean literally sacrificing your own wants and stuff. It means accommodating the person you love, going out of your way to do nice things without doing damage to yourself.”

“Like you do?” Bora’s voice is soft, almost too soft for you to catch, but you do hear it.

And instead of an adverse reaction, instead of denying it, you nod. “Yeah.”

Silence fills the car, and you don’t dare to raise your head. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I don’t think I ever knew.”

“No, I know you didn’t.” You sigh and reach over to fiddle with the keychain you left on the passenger door handle. “I mean, you were so in love when we met. And now...”

“I’m not,” she finishes.

You shrug, “Well, that’s up to you to figure out. You’ve figured me out, anyway. And I’ve waited this long, I won’t blame you for whatever decision you do make.”

“What if you didn’t have to wait?”

Bora suddenly remembers the box sitting in her pocket, and digs it out. She doesn’t know if it’ll fit your finger, or if you’ll even like it, but it’s spontaneous, and Bora thinks it’s the way that things should be. “Take it,” she offers, “as a promise. I know what I have to do, but I want to promise to you that... I’ll come back to you. And I think I should promise that I’ll start loving you the way you’ve loved me.”

You take the box gently, and as light as it is, Bora feels a weight taken away. You’ve always had that effect on her, after all. “Okay. I accept your promise, and I’ll wait. For you.”

The ring is a little tight, and you put it on your pinky instead of the normal fingers, but it feels secure. It feels like Bora will keep her promise this time, to both her and you.

#dreamcatcher #dreamcatcher x reader #sua x reader #dreamcatcher sua #kim bora #sua #sua imagines #sua scenarios #dreamcatcher scenarios #dreamcatcher bora #dreamcatcher reactions #dreamcatcher imagines #girl group imagines #girl group scenarios #dreamcatcher icons

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absolutepokemontrash · 4 years ago

Note

The undatables as uncles need more love, so... What if L!MC and the rest of the children just go to the castle or purgatory Hall for a few days because the Bros got tired or just need a day of rest. Idk this makes no sense

Yes, more uncle shennaniganery!

A Day at the Demon Lord’s Castle

Masterlist

It was Demon-Flu season, and no demon in the House of Lamentation was spared from its sniffly wrath. It started with Belphegor waking up and sneezing right next to Beel, and it was all downhill from there.

Notice how I said “demon”, the dear little Half-Demons were all fine thanks to the efforts of M!MC who for some reason had bought a bunch of plague doctor masks the week prior.

“Why... why did you buy these?” L!MC asked, their voice muffled by the badly fitting mask.

“I saw em’ in a store window and I decided I wanted them.”

Three out of four of the Brat Brigade (plus the cat) were on their way to the Demon Lord’s castle to stay until the house’s little epidemic passed. Lord Diavolo had oh so graciously asked (begged) to be allowed to host the kids for a while.

What could go wrong?

Many things could go wrong.

For one, the first thing A!MC saw when they first arrived, was a rat. Not one of the gross scary ones, but one of the absolutely adorable ones that turns you into the ‘gently holds’ meme.

“I’m going to call you Templeton!” “*squeak*” “Yay!”

Barbatos of course came to greet the guests, and explained that they have a little... issue with rats at that moment. Butler-dad assured them it wouldn’t be a problem, just if the children saw any of the vermin running around to tell him and he’d dispose of them.

Templeton the rat was promptly hidden in one of A!MC’s pockets.

The Purgatory Hall crew was there as well, apparently Solomon decided to make brunch and Purgatory Hall’s kitchen exploded.

Lord Diavolo finally makes his entrance and declares that everyone should unpack and relax, his gorgeous/terrifying castle was their gorgeous/terrifying castle.

“So,” L!MC rested their head on their hand and rotated the knight in their free hand as they stared half vacantly at the chess board. “Did you take care of the snake in the labyrinth, Dia?”

Diavolo lit up when he heard his seldom used nickname. “Well, Henry 1.0 isn’t exactly bothering anyone down there at the moment, and I don’t think Levi is equipped to deal with a fifty foot long untamed snake.”

L!MC smirked and placed their knight down. “Yeah, at least not right now.”

The moment L!MC removed their hand from the knight, Diavolo moved his bishop and took their queen. Shit.

“Aw man...” L!MC mumbled, after a cursory look at the board, the poor thing realized that they had been screwed for the last five turns and Diavolo was just prolonging the match.

“Don’t feel too bad, L!MC.” Diavolo gave them a pat on the head. “Lucifer can’t beat me in chess either.”

“Hmph.” They wouldn’t admit it but... that did make them feel a little better.

“That reminds me, I have a favour to ask of you.” L!MC almost outwardly drooped at the mention of... ugh... a task. “Do you mind reviewing some dad-jokes with me to make sure they are suitably dad-like?”

“...what?” Quickly remembering they were in the presence of honest to God (poor choice of words... uh... Grandfather?) royalty, L!MC straightened their posture and tried their best to look respectfully curious instead of completely and utterly confused. “Pardon?”

“M!MC and several others have said I have ‘dad vibes’, so I’m leaning into it!” Diavolo smiled so brightly if L!MC hadn’t been the child of the Morning Star they may have been blinded. “My father wasn’t one for jokes, so I’d like to run these by you before I say them to others.”

Suppressing a snort of laughter, L!MC nodded. “Go for it, I’m all ears.”

Diavolo pulled out quite the long list and began to read out loud... L!MC quickly realized that this may take longer than expected. “Okay, to begin: I’m afraid for the calendar, it’s days are numbered.”

“Oh not-that-good-Lord...” L!MC muttered under their breath.

The dad jokes continued, some were funny, some were absolutely awful, some sounded like they were made for children in the Victorian era... overall, it was a good- holy shit that took over two hours...

“Finally,” Diavolo squinted at the last joke. “I went to the liquor store and they asked for my ID, while I fumbled for my wallet, my Blockbuster card fell out, the cashier said ‘nevermind’.”

L!MC furrowed their brows. “What’s a Blockbuster?”

“That was what I was hoping you’d explain to me... is it a dad requirement to get a card for that establishment..?”

“Mmmm...” L!MC pursed their lips. “Probably not. I mean, Lucifer doesn’t have one.”

“That’s true...” Diavolo looked at the clock, then stood up and began to shoo L!MC out the door. “Look at me, taking up all your time that you should be spending with your friends. Thank you for your help, L!MC, now don’t let me keep you any longer!”

Giggling slightly, L!MC shot a wave over their shoulder as they left the room. “Bye dad! See you later!”

They were half way down the hallway when they realized their verbal slip-up.

“Oh.” L!MC’s face burned with embarrassment. “Shit.”

Dad-volo was totally delighted and very cool about it, don’t worry.

M!MC and Bean the cat were hanging out with the angels in the very pretty royal gardens when that mess was going down.

Luke was being absolutely adorable and was snuggling Bean while he and Simeon looked at the pretty plants.

In traditional M!MC fashion, they were engaging in an average game of ‘lightly tease the chihuahua’.

“It’s just... you’re so small.” M!MC took the opportunity to rest their arm on Luke’s head as he stopped to observe a colour changing flower bush. “How many years have you been this height? 100? 200?”

M!MC had taken the news that Luke was older than them in stride, finding new opportunities to make the little angel do his adorable angy face. They were obviously succeeding in their jerkwad-endeavours as Luke pushed their arm off and fixed his now smushed hat.

“You be quiet! I’m perfectly average height for an angel my age.” Luke huffed, petting the cat, who hissed at M!MC. The stupid cat absolutely hated them for some reason, it brought L!MC never ending joy to bring the cat into their shared room and watch it hiss and swipe at them. L!MC should really show some more respect for their older cousin!

“Are angels normally the size of a fifth grader?” M!MC snickered. “Is Simeon considered a freak for his height?”

“No, M!MC, I am not.” Simeon chuckled. “Rest assured, Luke will grow.”

“Yeah! And I’m sure I’ll be taller than you!” Luke added.

M!MC smirked deviously and pinched Luke’s cheek. “Well, I’ll have to take advantage of your smallness and baby face while I still can!”

“Hey! Stop that!” Luke tried to swat their hands away, but M!MC had inherited their father’s reflexes and his penchant for being a little shit every once and a while, so Luke’s swatting only resulted in more pinches.

“Never!” M!MC teased. “Surrender to your smallness!”

“No!”

Luke took off deeper into the garden, surprisingly quickly considering he was holding a cat that was hellbent on clawing M!MC’s eyes out. M!MC laughed and gave chase.

“Luuuuuuuke! Come back! I promise I’ll be nice!” M!MC lied right through their teeth like the little heathen they were, as they ran down the path they noticed that they couldn’t see Luke up ahead anymore, nor could they hear him yelling for Simeon to make them quit their teasing.

“Heheh...” M!MC wheezed as they stopped to catch their breath. “Luke c’mon, don’t be a baby. It’s real immature to hide like that!”

There was no response, which made M!MC just a little nervous, just a smidge. The plants had changed from pretty flowers and gorgeous trees to a much darker clump of vines and twisting branches. It all seemed to be the same plant, M!MC noted as they scanned the area for any sign of Luke and the cat, or Simeon for that matter.

“Luke? Bean? Come on! Haul your asses over here, this isn’t funny any-” M!MC paused and looked down as something coiled around their left leg. “-more?”

The vine tightened and yanked them backwards, M!MC fell right to the ground and clawed at the path to stop them getting pulled into the brush. Another vine wrapped around their right leg, any resistance that digging their nails into the ground was nullified as both vines yanked M!MC into the bushes.

Well, this was a nightmare of epic proportions. The vines continued to wrap around the helpless half demon until they were completely unable to move. As M!MC looked around frantically, they made eye contact with an all too familiar pair of blue eyes. Ah! There was Luke!

“Mmmph!” Only Luke’s eyes were visible, but the eyes are the gateway to the soul or whatever, and M!MC took an educated guess and decided that Luke’s soul wasn’t too happy with them.

“Mmth! Mmth!” M!MC tried to speak, but their mouth was covered by the vines. The two would have to communicate with their eyes only.

‘This is your fault!’

‘How the fuck is this MY fault?’

‘If you hadn’t teased me this never would have happened!’

‘Grow thicker skin, you chihuahua!’

‘Fuck you!’

Listen, Luke probably wasn’t capable of trying to communicate a swear word, but it was incredibly funny for M!MC to think about.

“M!MC? Luke?” Simeon stepped into their limited field of vision. “Where are you two? This plant is carnivorous.”

Oh... lovely. That was good to know.

“Mmemph!”

“MFTH!” Luke and M!MC tried to call out to Simeon, only for the vines to wrap around them even tighter. Wow, what a way to go... strangled by a plant... ugh. L!MC would never let them live that down...

“Hm,” Simeon looked down at the vine that was coiling around his leg. “What a bother.”

Quick as lightning, Simeon grabbed the vine and sent a burst of shining gold magic shooting through it. The magic quickly spread to the rest of the plant and the moment the magic slammed into M!MC they nearly passed out from the searing pain that shot through their entire body.

They clamped their eyes shut and clenched their teeth to stop them from rattling as they felt the massive wave of Celestial magic wash over them. It was weirdly warm, like a hug from a friend, but it wasn’t a pleasant sensation, at least not to M!MC.

The plant let out an otherworldly scream as it threw Luke, Bean, and M!MC back onto the path at Simeon’s feet.

Luke picked Bean back up and dusted off his clothes like he didn’t have a care in the world. M!MC lay on the ground, if you listened closely you could hear them sizzle a bit. Nothing like being nearly strangled by a plant and then roasted by holy ‘fuck you’ magic.

“I’m glad you’re both okay,” Simeon pulled Luke into a hug and helped M!MC off the ground. “Did I ah... use to much magic?”

M!MC half-scowled at their saviour and wiped down their outfit. “Yeah. A little too much.”

“My bad,” Simeon ruffled M!MC’s hair. “I hope this serves as a learning experience for you two, Luke, don’t run off like that, and M!MC,”

The half demon nearly jumped in fear and surprise as Simeon swivelled to look at them. The smile on his face was far from comforting. “Don’t tease poor Luke too much, okay?”

“Uh... uh huh.” M!MC quickly nodded.

“Good! Now let’s head back, I think we’ve all had enough of the Royal Gardens.”

As the group returned, they passed a very red in the face L!MC and wondered what exactly went down in the time they were gone.

It’s common knowledge that Barbatos hates rats, it’s also common knowledge that A!MC is the embodiment of a ray of sunshine.

What does this lead to, you may be asking, well...

A!MC and their dear rat Templeton needed to hide from the politely homicidal Barbatos.

“Sh!” A!MC whispered into their pocket, the rat responded with an indignant squeak.

The Demon Lord’s Castle was absolutely massive, and trying to navigate it without a map was akin to wandering around an ancient pyramid filled with death traps. A!MC and their dear companion were wandering the place without a map and trying to hide from a butler that had the power to see into the future. The two fugitives were at a clear disadvantage.

A!MC had managed to stumble into an area that had paintings and statues completely everywhere, it was then they realized they were completely lost.

While quietly perusing the room, A!MC took notice of quite the lovely portrait of a woman. She had long flowing locks of golden hair and the most gorgeous captivating eyes... A!MC nearly shrieked when the woman’s eyes snapped to their’s and her face contorted into a scowl.

“Do I know you?” The woman asked, A!MC gulped and shook their head.

“N-no ma’am, I don’t think we’ve met...” A!MC mumbled before sticking out their hand for a handshake. The painting woman stared down at their outstretched hand, very unimpressed. “I’m A!MC, it’s nice to meet you.”

The half demon offered their cutest smile, their dad had lovingly taken the time to coach them in the art of being so darn tootin’ adorable that everyone would fall over themselves to get A!MC to like them. The moment the woman registered the smile, her scowl returned for a brief moment, then vanished entirely.

“Oh,” The woman smiled sweetly. “I do think I know you, do you mind coming a bit closer so I can see you better?”

Suffering from a complete inability to detect red flags, A!MC happily moved closer.

“Ah, just as I suspected. You look like Asmodeus.”

“You know my dad?” A!MC asked.

“Yes,” The woman’s eyes narrowed. “I know him quite well.”

A!MC was suddenly knocked off balance as a massive gust of wind shoved them closer to the painting. They frantically clawed at the stone ground as Templeton squeaked and squirmed in their pocket.

“Your father is the reason I’m stuck in this painting,” The woman explained coldly as A!MC tried to scramble away. “He escaped the labyrinth twice, but I don’t plan on letting you escape.”

“I-uh- m-muh-my dad’s probably really sorry about whatever he did! There’s no need to be rash!” A!MC stuttered.

“Yeah, no.” The woman huffed. “He had his chance to fix things. I’m getting even.”

“Not right now you’re not.”

A!MC swivelled their head around to see Barbatos calmly holding out a pair of scissors.

“Now Helene, I’d recommend releasing the child before I’m forced to take drastic measures.” Barbatos clicked the scissors together twice, and Helene paled. The wind pushing A!MC towards the painting dissipated and the half demon ran and hid behind the butler.

“Th-thank you...” A!MC mumbled.

“It’s not a problem, A!MC. Now I believe it would be a wise choice to move to another room.”

The two, (plus the hidden rat) ended up in the kitchen. A!MC shifted nervously as Barbatos began prepping lunch.

“Is there something you need to tell me?” Barbatos asked suddenly, A!MC straightened their posture and nodded.

“I um... promise you won’t be mad...” A!MC mumbled.

“I can assure you, I won’t be too upset.”

“I made a friend.” A!MC took Templeton out of their pocket and held him closely to their chest, Barbatos’s calm smile froze on his face. “He’s really sweet, please don’t kill him!”

“...A!MC.” Barbatos began slowly. “I’m not mad... just make sure it doesn’t escape and run rampant... now... please get it out of my kitchen.”

“Yes sir! Thank you sir!” A!MC turned and sprinted to their room.

Ugh... Barbatos, haven’t you ever watched Ratatouille? The rat can cook dammit!

When Luke went in to bake with his second dad he was very confused as to why Barbatos looked like he was having war flashbacks.

Huh... weird right? Anyway...

Good ol’ weird uncle Solomon suggested that after dinner everyone should get together and watch a movie.

L!MC and Solomon suggested that they watch The Conjuring and that idea got immediately shot down.

M!MC brought up that the most “family get-together” movie they could think of was Star Wars.

So they watched A New Hope.

“We could be watching the Conjuring right now.” L!MC murmured as they watched Luke Skywalker fumble his way to Obi Wan Kenobi.

“Yeah.” Solomon whispered back. “You know, I met Ed and Lorraine Warren.”

“Cool,” L!MC smiled. “My ren took me to their house once, when I went in to see all the haunted objects all the demons inside wanted to hang out with me.”

“Huh,” Solomon snickered. “Did they think you were Lucifer?”

“Yep. It was funny, Annabelle’s a pretty big asshole though.”

“I’d be an asshole too if I were stuck in a raggedy Anne doll since the 60s and not allowed to leave.”

“Both of you sh!” M!MC hissed, they threw some popcorn over their shoulder, which L!MC threw right back.

A while into the movie, M!MC elbowed Solomon and pointed at one of the aliens. “That’s you.”

“I’m so hurt…” Solomon pouted.

“And that’s you.” L!MC pointed at a stormtrooper that had just gotten shot with a blaster. M!MC scoffed and rolled their eyes.

“I’m not some dumb stormtrooper.”

“Yeah, you’re a little short for a stormtrooper.”

“HEY!”

“SHHHHHHH!” A!MC and Luke turned and started throwing their own popcorn…

The mess that they all had to vacuum after the movie was much more terrifying than The Conjuring ever could have been.

So, after a few days, Lucifer called to say that everyone was back to normal and the last remnants of the Demon-Flu were gone.

Yay! The kids could go back to their really overcrowded house!

The goodbyes were something to behold.

“Goodbye everyone! Come back sometime soon!” Diavolo waved from the doorway.

“Bye, Lord Diavolo!” L!MC smiled brightly and returned the wave. M!MC snickered and nudged them.

“That’s a pretty cold way to say goodbye to your dad-”

“Shut up…” L!MC growled.

“L!MC, what are they talking about?” Lucifer asked.

“Nothing!”

M!MC looked like they were weighing the pros and cons of surviving the conversation, then shrugged.

“M!MC, no, you have so much to live for!” A!MC pleaded.

“L!MC called Lord Diavolo dad!”

Mammon erupted into hysterical laughter while Asmo giggled and half heartedly patted L!MC on the head. Lucifer was not impressed.

“You know,” L!MC sighed. “I’m moving out. Lord Diavolo can I come live here?”

“L!MC, come back.” Lucifer trailed after his very embarrassed spawn.

A!MC pulled on their dad’s sleeve and cleared their throat.

“Yes sweetie?”

“D-dad, do you have a vehement hatred and or fear of rats?”

“Um-”

“Meet Templeton, he’s adorable and my friend.”

————————

Author’s note, The next part of the main series is coming next week… or this week… idk how long things take.

(Probably this week)

#the next mission is making sure the rat doesn’t get eaten by Detective Toe Beans…#Obey me #Obey me!#Obey me Fic #obey me shall we date #Obey me! headcanons #obey me! shall we date?#obey me headcanons #Obey me MC #Obey me Diavolo #Obey me Luke #Obey me Simeon #Obey me Barbatos #Obey me Solomon #Obey me Lucifer #Obey me Mammon #Obey me Asmodeus

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askdracomalfoyofficial · 4 years ago

Text

╭━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━╮

𝐌𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐄𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝

╰━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━╯

The Mirror of Erised is an ancient, ornate mirror with clawed feet and a gold frame. It’s said that the Mirror shows the most desperate desire of a person’s heart, a vision that has been known to drive men mad. The writing engraved in the frame of the mirror was a forgotten foreign dead language but if one looks closely it says: ‘I show not your face but your heart’s desire.’ backwards.

It’s rumored that men have stood before it, wasted away not knowing if what they have seen was something real, or even possible. It’s as though the mirror had latched a hook around you, pulled you in and forced you to see what could be just beyond the mind's subconscious. But what would happen when a certain Slytherin stumbles upon this mirror, and what are the things that he may be shown?

The Mirror was supposed to be taken elsewhere after an incident with Harry Potter, but for some reason it was still around in third year, lingering like a ghost in the corner of a dark room. With how tempting the thing could be, you’d swear that it was whispering to you, pulling you in like you were in some sort of trance. That’s exactly what was happening with Draco Malfoy.

Third year was so much different compared to the last two, and it seemed as though things were just going to get even more interesting for this year. Though, he questioned how things would go within the next four years.

One lonely dark night while wandering the corridors, usually he wasn’t someone who went out of their dormitory passed curfew but there was just something itching at the surface that he wanted – perhaps needed to do. That’s when he felt the deep urge to head towards an abandoned wing of the castle, where nobody usually goes. With his wand raised, and a Lumos casted. He dipped into alcoves to hide from Filch and Mrs. Norris, but would continue on his way towards this ‘pull.’

That’s when he found it, as if it was whispering to him. Telling him to come, come see your desires that are hidden beneath where not even you, yourself could reach, even if you think you know what your true desires are. It was manipulating, a trance within a trance of its own. How strange of a magical artifact.

Slowly, he proceeded further into the empty room until he stood tall in front of the mirror. His platinum blonde hair brighter than his Lumos. “Nox.” He whispered, and the delicate glow faded from the tip of his wand before sliding it into the pocket of his robes. His molten gray eyes staring through the mirrors surface, staring back at himself mainly. Slowly reaching his hand up to glide his fingers along the golden ornate frame as the coldness seeped through the pads of his fingers while he secretly admired it.

Pulling his hand away, a brow arched. “What is my deepest desire?” He questioned. Though he swore he already knew the answer. It was power. He wanted power. He was already wealthy, that was something he didn’t need more of as he was completely set in life. Eyes closing, and he entered a meditative state as if to clear his head of anything that may mess up with what the mirror could show him, or what the mirror perhaps knew.

When his eyes slowly fluttered opened; nothing was there but just himself. There was no sign that he even desired this said ‘power.’ There was nothing in there about his future. Perhaps there was a flicker of something with not being the greatest Malfoy disappointment to his father but it didn’t linger very long. Instead, a female appeared, making his head quickly turn around to look over his shoulder to see if anyone had come in, but no one was there. When he turned back... there she was.

“You’re bloody kidding, right?” He spoke to the mirror as if it was a joke, because this certainly was not what he desired at all. Draco shook his head disapprovingly. “No. I refuse to accept that this is what I desire. You’re a phony. That’s what you are!” He raised his voice. For a student who was sneaking out of their dormitory to come stand before a mirror, yelling probably wasn’t a good idea. He just – he couldn’t accept what he was seeing.

Hermione Granger.

Mudblood.

The Brightest Witch Of Our Age.

Gryffindor know-it-all, swot.

There she was, standing before him the Mirror’s surface in a raven-colored dress with her hair slightly pinned back. Her skin glowed like a light had been casted over it showing her fairly sun-kissed tone. Her brunette curls seemed tamed, and for a moment Draco got curious of how her hair would feel falling through the spaces of his fingers.

He shook his head. No, no, no. This has to be all wrong or something.

Hermione in the mirror was moving, she seemed much like the one he knew. Innocent looking, someone who’d have her nose buried deep inside a book. Getting all the correct answers and topping him in all his bloody classes. She looked elegantly beautiful; it was terrifying to see her like that. Maybe he was dreaming, oh, he hoped that he was.

But there was a drafted breeze that shifted around in the room, blowing dust bunnies and dirt around on the floor leaving goosebumps to wake on his skin, and hairs to stand on ends at the back of his neck. Of course, that creepingly odd sensation that in a way told him that this may or may not be real. Though, he wanted to stay, and maybe that’s where he goes wrong.

She smiled at him. She bloody smiled at him, and how dare she even spread those filthy lips. How dare she even come about in the damn Mirror. No, how dare him for even coming here in the first place. Now, when and if he leaves. He’s just going to sit there and think about what the hell he’d just seen, and perhaps the way he treats her may even change and... no – no that cannot happen, will not. He refuses to let this be the case.

His mind was not his friend right now, it wasn’t helping in a situation such as this, at this time.

Draco got frustrated, ripping out his wand. “Lumos.” It lit, and the light casted over the shadows in the room, even made Hermione in the mirror fade away. He shook his head angerly and left the room all together. Leaving behind the Mirror of Erised. “What a bloody waste of time.” He grumbled to himself, quickly making his way through the corridors and back to the dungeons.

That night had come and gone the moment his head hit the pillow. Exhaustion sweeping over and covering over his body like a blanket full of comfort. Morning came, and the sun peaked through the windows just barely. Every student got dressed in their robes, including Draco himself. He didn’t wake up in a good mood, after what he had seen and dealt with last night it was something no one would understand; nor was it going to be something he even spoke to anyone about. It wasn’t anyone's business anyways.

“Hello Draco.” Pansy greeted once he took a seat at the Slytherin table. “Did you sleep well?” She asked, why did she even bother half the time anyways?

“It doesn’t look like he did, Pansy.” Goyle chimed in.

“Was I asking you? Is your name Draco?”

“No, obviously not. I answered because it doesn’t look as though Malfoy is in the talking mood, now does it? You aren’t very observant to these kinds of things, I'm not at all shocked.”

Pansy’s mouth gaped open, her eyes fleeted towards Draco as if he was going to stand up for her or something, waiting for him to defend her. Except he wasn’t even listening in on the conversation, nor was he even watching either of the bicker about him. Usually when it came to someone talking about him, his ears would get that tingly, buzzing feeling – either that or just gets that weird strange sensation inside that someone was talking about him. This time around though? He wasn’t at all moved.

They continued talking, and he drowned them out. Thinking back to last night when he snuck out, and went to the bloody forsaken room. His eyes wandered towards the Gryffindor table, in search for a certain bushy-haired brunette know-it-all witch, and for a moment he thought maybe she wasn’t there but just then she took a seat with Harry and Ron, smiling about with her eyebrows fairly loose. Her hair was slightly pinned back, much like how he had seen in the Mirror.

In the moment; she seemed so care-free, like a feather blowing in the gentle breeze. Twirling, and furrowing to its freedom. He must’ve been staring a little too long, because the next thing he knows, her eyes met his. His expression was stoic; unreadable – almost expressionless. Matter-of-fact, his heart had just dropped to the pit of his stomach. She just figured him out, all in one quick look and head on eye contact.

Their eyes remained locked. She looked almost passive aggressive, as if she was partially disgusted but also partially shocked that he was even looking at her in the first place. She was probably thinking that he was going to curse her for even looking at him, for holding that eye contact for little over a minute now. For a moment, he swore that her breath caught in her throat because her lips parted.

Her delicately soft pink lips formed a space between once was a pressed thin-line.

Draco broke it first. Turning his head away from her, and reverting his gaze back to Goyle and Pansy while they bickered.

“You never chew with your mouth closed.” She complained, (even though Goyle did chew with his mouth closed now thanks to Draco, of course).

“And you’re just always complaining about something.”

A gasp.

“You both are bloody annoying. You do know that right?” Draco finally said something, letting his eyes shift back and forth from the two. “Always on about something.”

They both shut up. It’s like they had been Imperio'd or something, because anything he says or does something they seem to either listen or just go along with it. It liked that; he liked the power he had and didn’t care. That’s what he thought – no that’s what he was sure he would’ve seen in that bloody mirror. Now that he can’t stop thinking about Her, he wanted to destroy the thing. Get rid of it.

But as of right now, his thoughts were just going to be consumed by what he’d seen in it. Hermione Granger, the little golden girl was what he desired,

And he hated it.

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