#In front of the church too like she did not give a fuck

[ink-blot-thoughts]

It is so eternally funny to me that the Fatui have acquired every single gnosis peacefully... except for Venti.

Zhongli had his contract, Yae Miko traded Ei's, Nahida also traded hers and Ei's, and Neuvilette just gave that shit away. Like we're introduced to them as stealing all the Gnoses and then they drop that shit immediately.

Even worse, they steal it from Venti. Fucking Venti. Mr Had a 500 Year Nap. Mr Tells His City To Be Free and Fucks Off. Mr Steals Wine For Himself. That dude. That's the one it was necessary to dropkick.

Like Signora could have sauntered up with an apple in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other and Venti would have given up his gnosis faster than you can say 'Freedom'.

And even if we go with the theory that Venti knows much more than he let's on, he would've have probably given it away anyway considering what we know now about the third Descender and all.

Like Signora had zero need for the bitchslap-dropkick-combo but she needed the Fatui to have a girl boss reputation so she did anyway. Rate. We stan a proactive Queen ig.

#genshin impact #genshin impact fatui #fatui harbingers #genshin #genshin lore #gnosis #like seriously its fucking Venti #its so funny to me not even Scara try to kick Ei's ass for the gnosis #like everyone else gets peace but Signora had to go to Mondstadt and decided nah thats shits personal im dropkicking him #In front of the church too like she did not give a fuck #i like to think she reports back to the tsaritsa who sighs loudly and internally wonders why the fuck she recruited all these batshit people #also rip Raiden she didnt even get to give away her gnosis despite the fact it was traded twice lmao #its the middle of the night and i cant sleep but im exhausted so yall get my insane genshin posting yw x

[chlorinecake]

HELLO

Please PLEASE make a fic about the songs church- chase Atlantic!!

It's my latest obsession, next to enha ofc

leading you on | l.hs

♱ plot: from the shy boy you first met at church camp who your parents once adored to their biggest fuckboy nightmare, you and heeseung reconnect on an online platform where you became a popular streaming duo together, leading to some steamy (and eventually forbidden) connections between you two…

loser!streamer!heeseung x fem!streamer!reader

♱ contains: SLOW BURN, swearing, sneaking out, mentions of bulges (multiple times), oral and fingering (f. r.), slight corruption kink, y/n stripping in front of a large audience (on camera), unprotected sex + virginity loss, y/n deliberately disobeying her parents, angst-ish, ft. other kpop idols, roughly 7k words

a/n: this is my first time writing a one shot all about Heeseung so hopefully I did our favorite loser boy some justice in this fic... have fun reading!

Heeseung. He was always just so... flirty with you.

Not emotionally, that is, but physically.

Leaving lingering touches on your thigh during Bible study, whispering dangerously close to your ear in that bedroom voice of his, or texting you random pictures during the day with his bulge obvious in almost every single one.

Two little voices battled in the back of your mind whenever you were around him, one voice wanting him to take things further while the other found it strange how he did such things so shamelessly.

The boy's got sex written all over him, your friends would warn alongside your Christ-converted step-sister Giselle who'd had her fair share of 'guys like Heeseung' in the past.

But you didn't see him that way. Despite his flirty tendencies, you figured those were just attributes that made him who he is.

Who you've always loved him to be.

However, those Holy, Holy, God Almighty church days were long gone by now, being no more than a distant ninth grade memory to you and most of everyone else who attended back then.

Everyone except Lee Heeseung, who could never shake his adolescent infatuation with you... ____, the girl who accepted his flaws and eventually stole his heart.

You and Heeseung reconnected a few years later by chance, the same day of your one year anniversary on your streaming channel.

Initially, your content consisted of one-hour long broadcasts where you'd just talk with random strangers, hearing out their problems and giving righteous advice.

However, Heeseung became a recurrent visitor on your streams, coaxing you to speak on topics more interesting than whether its modest to wear glam makeup or if kissing should be saved for marriage.

Your channel amassed a whopping 20,000 new followers in the first month of Heesung partnering with you, and its part of what led him to becoming an anticipated guest to your growing fanbase.

A dynamic duo, some commenters would call you two... and much to your parents chagrin, at that.

Off camera, things were the same.

You and Heeseung had grown closer than ever, sacrificing sleep to text each other all night, doing fuck-all on your web streams for hours, and even considering meeting up in person for a broadcast after he shared with you that he still lived in the city.

But then... something changed.

Or more accurately, your overly controlling mother put her foot down.

|Messaging| 💬

Heeseung: So we're not allowed to hang out together this Friday ?

You: Not alone... and honestly, not on the streams anymore, either...

Heeseung: Don't tell me its bc ur shyyyy

You: Nope… pArEnTs ^^

You'd say your mom had it out to get Heeseung more than your dad ever did, resenting the mere mentioning of his name at weekly church gatherings.

"That daughter of yours has gained quite the audience on social media," one womann would say, "too bad she seems to be losing her Faith to that poor Heeseung boy..."

"Such a shame," another would agree, adding to the heat-bubbles boiling in your mother's blood-

"Our faith teaches forgiveness and kindness," you defended yourself, just as your mom gave you maybe her third lecture this week on why you should cut ties with him.

"It also advises caution and wisdom when it comes to who we allow into our social circles," she hummed back, taking a sip of her morning coffee, red lipstick staining the rim of the white mug, "I'd be no better than a fool to sit here and support this meaningless friendship between you and that... man."

You internally rolled your eyes at her words, thinking of something, anything to say in order to change the subject right now.

"Well, I have plans with some friends from church tonight, if you don't mind-"

"Will Heeseung be there?"

"What? No," you lied, and not for the first time, either.

It helped you to feel less guilt whenever you blamed it on the little voice in your head, "Just me and the girls," you clarified.

"Mhm," she smiled facetiously before continuing, "I'm afraid I still can't trust you to go, though... especially not after that little stunt you pulled online..."

Your hand halted at the kitchen countertop as her words settled in your mind, "What stunt?"

FLASHBACK

It all started with a picture.

A stupid picture you got dared to leak by an anonymous tipper who offered a $1,000 donation in exchange for a steamy photo of Heeseung.

Chelbear03: God, he looks so THICK

Chelsea, one of your viewers said in the streaming chat, practically moaning at the photo of Heeseung, biting her lip as if she could feel him inside her just by looking at the screen.

Chelbear03: PAINFUL 😩

pucca_princxss: Need a tissue for your drool, Sea-Sea? 🧻

Danielle, another fan joked.

Chelbear03: Okay, FIRST of all, I have drool coming from TWO holes rn- Secondly, I'd rather just have him lick it up 😔

Chelsea typed back, a nuance to her words that you couldn't tell was meant to be either comical or serious.

"Lick up what?" a curious voice asked from the screen.

That's when your hand flew to cover your mouth, eyes going wide at the sight of Heeseung coming back into frame after saying he'd be "afk for a bit while showering."

His hair was still a bit damp from what you could tell, a towel draped lazily around his neck as your eyes unfortunately fell to the lump hiding behind his pants.

Oh God-

"N-nothing! Uhm... it's not important," you chuckled dryly, only adding to the awkwardness everyone was starting to feel from behind their screens.

pucca_princxss: OOP speak of the papi-

Chelbear03: Please forgive me, Hee-man 🧎‍♀️ ... bc I am disrespectfully foaming at the mouth as we speak-

Chelbear03 has left the stream

A notification of Chelsea having left the stream popped up in the chat almost immediately after she sent that message.

"What was that all about?," Heeseung smirked with confusion, looking between both you and the server comments displayed on his screen for an answer that never came.

"Fine then, keep your secrets... its not like I can't just rewind the stream highlights anyway," he added, just as you felt frantic emotions overcome you.

"Heeseung, you really don't wanna do that, just let me explain-"

His jaw dropped, not necessarily in shock, but with intrigue, the raunchy photo of his semi-hard cock through his sweatpants being displayed on the screen, right before his glossy deer-like eyes.

The same picture he'd only ever sent to you.

"I guess this is my mini Drake moment then," Heeseung chuckled to himself, a heavy sigh escaping your lips at his fortunately chill reaction.

"I did it for 1k, Heeseung, I'm sorry," you whined, pulling your knees up in your chair before burying your face behind them.

"Don't be... everyone already knows I'm your slut at this point," he said in a deeper voice, making you freeze once again as your eyes shot up to view the screen, almost in denial that such words even left his mouth.

anonymous tipper: worst thousand $$$ I ever spent... how abt I multiply the price by two for a sexy picture of the lady ?

yxstar3ject: ooo, but i was thinking maybe a double feature instead ? would luvvv to see how she treats this little slut of hers 🤭

Heeseung snickered so loud, you almost felt it on your skin, watching his facial expressions change with each suspicious message that filled the chat box, throughly entertaining him

"Guys, cut it out before I end the stream," you giggled shyly, revealing your full face that looked a little less flustered than earlier, "Heeseung isn't my slut either, okay? Just a good friend, I swear..."

pucca_princxss: you two need to stream in the same room one day bc this long distance sexual tension thing is so not the vibe :|

"Maybe one day..." Heeseung's voice faded off as he turned off the lights in his room, getting ready for bed...

"Maybe~~," your mother repeated in a mocking tone at the memory of your "filthy fest" of a stream that day, disgust displayed all over her before she took the last sip of her coffee as if it'd soothe her.

"Hope that refreshed your memory sweetie, but either way, my answer's no. Not with that slut on the streets and especially not without my supervision..."

“If you’re referring to Heeseung with that vulgar comment, I’m sorry to correct you, but it’s not right to just bash him with words like that,” you went on, leaning your elbows over the counter.

“Please, any guy who sends raunchy dick pics, let alone to a girl he’s not even dating, is a slut, ____,” your step-sister Giselle voiced while walking into the kitchen, dressed in athletic wear as she filled up her water canteen with a lemon flavored electrolyte packet, “not to mention those other weird things he says about your relationship on the stream.”

Despite how much your family claimed to dislike Heeseung, they had no problem with bringing him up every five seconds in a conversation.

You glanced at her through a side eye, shaking your head at the fact that she was just eavesdropping on your conversation, “That was hardly a dick pic, and you should know that better than me, Jizz-elle,” you retorted, putting extra emphasis on the first syllable of her old nickname.

“Yeah, real mature, ____… you can slut shame me but not your little online boyfriend?”

“Ladies!,” your mother raised her voice slightly, pursing her lips at the tension built up between you two, “that’s enough of this discussion…”

You noticed the way your mother’s eyes lingered on your step sister for a moment, “And where do you think you’re going?”

“To the gym,” she answered shortly, walking past your mom and out of the kitchen with haste.

You scoffed out loud, “Not gonna interrogate her like you did to me?,” you said, laughing as if humored when it was really just a way to mask how irritated you were.

“No,” your mom said with a delayed reply, “Giselle is not my blood… I must take her word for what she says to avoid conflict with your step-father… you, on the other hand, will—”

“—abide by your rules… got it,” you finished for her, knowing better than to continue going back and forth with her in this matter.

You left the kitchen, going up to your room and plopping yourself on the bed, staring at the ceiling as you entered into a deep thinking space.

One in which you'd strategize on how to successfully sneak out of the house to hang out with Heeseung tonight.

|Messaging| 💬

You: So, you want me to meet you where again ?

Heeseung: Just take a hard right past the first stop sign from your place and a few steps past that one brown house (pls ignore my Dora ass instructions rn 🗿)

You: ok ok 😭, smart tho !! … that way, none of my neighbors will see your car :D

Heeseung: Exactly. U sure u still wanna do this, tho ?

You: Yeah, ofc ! Had enough of my mom nagging me all day ☝️ I need a release BIG time

Heeseung: Haha, okay then ! I’ll see you at 10:30pm

You: Cya ! 🐒

THE LAST TIME you and Heeseung met in person was back when you were both young teenagers, navigating hormones and puberty while aiming to keep God at the center of it all, so to speak.

You didn’t know what to expect from meeting up with him, and especially not under such circumstances.

Still, you had a pretty good feeling that all this trouble wouldn’t be for nothing.

It was currently 10:34pm as you turned off all the lights in your bedroom, wearing an all black outfit to ensure you weren’t seen.

You double checked to see if you had everything with you before leaving: phone, spare cash, and a well-rehearsed story in case you got caught.

Opening your bedroom window, you stuck out a leg, suddenly feeling thankful for your step-dad giving you the bedroom on the first story of his home.

Both your feet were on the floor now, your hands finding the window sill as you closed the window back, careful not to accidentally lock it back so you would be able to get back in later.

You then followed the instructions Heeseung outlined in your texts, walking a few blocks down and taking a right turn once you reached the stop sign.

That’s when you caught sight of his dimly lit side profile under the lights of his car and through the tinted windows.

His eyes were on his phone until your figure blocked the streetlight that shined in his car, drawing his attention to your face as a smile spread over his own.

His eyes lit up like you were the candle to his soul, stepping out of the sleek black car to come around and give you a hug.

“Oh- hi,” you chuckled shyly, hands hesitating to wrap around him before he pulled away, looking you up and down while bracing your shoulders.

“Hi,” he smiled back, “I was just about to text you when you showed up at my window… nice black fit, by the way.”

“Thanks,” you said in a playful voice, watching as he opened the car door for you to get in.

“Would it be wrong of me to assume your panties match, too?,” he asked teasingly, joining you in the vehicle before pulling out of his parked position and cruising out of the neighborhood.

“Wow, you’re really representing this slut persona of yours, huh?” You teased back, putting on your seatbelt.

“Mostly because I can’t help it,” he shrugged, flashing you a smile before looking back at the road, “the fans ship us anyway, so we might as well commit to it, right?”

“Righttt,” you answered suspiciously, poking his thigh before looking back out the window, “gosh, this is crazy…”

“What is?”

“How long we’ve known each other and still happened to maintain a solid friendship despite the distance.”

“Yea,” he agreed, turning down a lane decorated with flowers that somehow still shined in the dark of the night, “We’d be fools to give up this bond we share, though… fools not to explore it further.”

He pulled into his driveway a few minutes later, showing you around his place before leading you to his bedroom, a familiar sight to you thanks to the streams.

“Oh- you’ve still got your monitors and mic set up?,” you asked curiously, noticing how the screen of his computer was on the streaming website.

“You remember what Danielle said on our last live? About us broadcasting in the same room together sometime…” he started shyly, pushing out another gaming chair for you to sit in.

“You really think it’s a good idea to stream right now?,” you rationalized, watching as he joined you in the nearby seat, “I mean, I’m obviously down for it, but what if my mom sees it again? Or Gisel—”

“I’ve already blocked your mom's account, ____, we should be fine,” he smiled, “and… if not… I’ll exchange another photo with your anonymous tipper for some forgiveness cash,” he shrugged, pouty lips making you melt a little inside. "Deal?"

You always knew that Heeseung was cute, but you didn’t think it was possible for him to get any better looking from behind the screen.

“Okay then,” you agreed with a sigh, hoping that your nerves would calm down once the broadcast started.

Almost instantly, 100 viewers joined when Heeseung pressed the “stream” button.

You both began with greeting everyone, trying to get past the chat’s excitement about finally getting to see you two in the same room together.

yxstar3ject: OMFG YALL ACTUALLY DID IT ❗️ this is the moment we’ve all been waiting for 🤧

Chelbear03: holy fucking fuck, how is she so CALM NEXT TO HIM 😩

mrloverl0ver: everyone in favor of them playing truth or strip for us, spam the chat with W’s

pucca_princxss: hoon, you raging perv- WWWWWWWWWW XD

Chelbear03: ✨ W ✨

laylaspapi: W no homo wait, why's my name pink now ;-;

yxstar3ject: I took orange the other day ~ sawwy Jakey W <3

You watched as the chat box started to flood with W's and other random comments, feeling Heeseung sat a hand on your thigh as if to make you feel more comfortable.

"Alright peeps, chill out with the chat spamming, we see it," Heeseung said, laughing off some of the tension, "It's not like you guys didn't get a free show the other day, anyways," he added.

"I don't know..." you started, voice and logic trailing off as more letter W's filled the screen, "it might be fun?"

"____," Heeseung said more seriously this time, "it's a pointless game, y'know? We're honest with the fans... they already know most of secrets, so its silly to do truth or strip..."

"Great. That'll only make it more challenging for them to get our clothes off then," you smiled, suddenly feeling excited about playing, a bit of your competitiveness rubbing off on the initially cautious boy.

"Fine then... we'll do it," Heeseund said, eliciting a few viewers to send gifts to your broadcast, "I'm gonna need a drink for this first, though."

Heeseung was doing a good job of making it seem like he wasn't totally down for this, even though on the inside, he was mostly concerned with making sure you felt comfortable, too.

He left the room for a moment before coming back with two canned cocktails in his grip, placing them on his desk in front of you two.

"I'm guessing you don't drink much," he said, popping open a can of sugary fizz with his teeth while making eye contact with you, "so take it slow with this, yeah?"

"Sure, dad," you joked, taking a sip from the can, hoping that the alcohol would maintain your fleeting confidence, considering that you'd just agreed to strip in front of hundreds of people online.

Chelbear03: alr, first question heheh, starting easy !! :))) when was the last time you got upset and why

Chelsea was the first to initiate this little "truth or strip" questionnaire. Heeseung read the question out loud before humming to himself in thought.

“Hmm... maybe when I overcooked my ramen this morning?”

"Who eats ramen for breakfast?" You asked with a dry laugh.

"Don't judge me because I have good taste, ____," he replied, shoving your thigh with his knee a bit, "and you're dodging the question..."

"Oh- right," you chuckled shyly, thinking of what to say and whether to be honest, until you remembered the consequence would be to remove a piece of clothing.

“It was um... over some stupid things my stepsister was saying about a friend of mine… also this morning...”

"Does that friend so happen to be me by any chance?," Heeseung asked knowingly, giving you a look that you quickly brushed off.

"Moving on, next question!"

anonymous tipper: name the last person you hooked up with $100 donation on the line here, btw... plus someone's modesty 🙈

Oh God, you thought to yourself, dreading how this anonymous tipper knew you'd do almost anything for money.

It was really a bad trait of yours...

"Wow, just jumping to the extremes, aren't we?," Heeseung mumbled between a sip of his drink, the wet condensation drawing your attention to his glistening digits for a quick second.

How were you just now noticing how thick his fingers ar-

laylaspapi: uh oh someone looks nervous ...

pucca_princxss: mission accomplished 👹👹👹

In all honesty, you didn't really have an answer to that question, but to avoid coming off as prudish, you opted to take a pair of clothing off instead, lifting your hips in your seat to pull your pants down.

"____, what the-" Heeseung started before choking a bit on his drink, not just at your sudden boldness, but at the sight of your lace panties hugging the natural curves of your hips, pants getting bunched up at your ankles before you kicked them off under his desk.

yxstar3ject: 😭😭😭😭 DEFINITELY wasn't expecting that, oml-

Chelbear03: your turn, hee 🙏🙏🙏

Something about how frazzled your usually calm and collected best friend became at the simple act of you undressing before him gave you a feeling of exhilaration.

By now, your top barely covered the flesh of your thighs, a few commenters saying things about "wanting to take a bite" before Heeseung cleared his throat, hoping that they'd stop making things worse for him.

"Well uh, I'm not willing to strip a layer just yet, plus I could use the $100, so I'll be honest..."

The chat stalled momentarily as if everyone watching paused in eager anticipation of who and what Heeseung was going to say.

"It's been a while, I'll admit," he chuckled dryly, staring off as if envisioning it behind his sparkly eyes, "but it was around a year and a half ago... with a girl I'd rather not name, but she was a bit older than me..."

"Oh?," you accidentally said out loud, a strange feeling of happiness washing over you now that you knew he hadn't been with any girl since you two met reconnected. You're not sure why this information made you happy... or maybe you're just not ready to admit how you truly feel about him to yourself yet...

"How'd you two meet? Wait- why am I even asking that," you cringed at your own inevitable curiosity, Heeseung taking delight in how his timidness somehow rubbed back off onto you.

"Nah, it's okay... I'm sure the viewers wouldn't mind a little storytime-"

He adjusted his posture in the chair, eyes scanning a few new comments before he spoke, "I met her during my bad boy stage, I guess you could say... we bonded over the fact that we were both born in October until we eventually started smoking together at a friends house of mine every now and then... she and I were both going through some divorce drama with our parents and uh... we thought fucking would be a good emotional outlet? I don't know, maybe it was more of a distraction, I guess..."

Heeseung didn't expect himself to ramble the way he did, but he wanted you to know the main details, even though he left out a few parts for another time and conversation.

Chelbear03: what would it take for me to be that girl ? just for one night 😔

maindancertypeshit: pretty sure Hee just confirmed he's into older girls, Chels ... and ones with daddy issues at that-

You nearly snorted at the sudden comment, up until you realized who the last one came from.

"Excuse me, but what the hell is a toddler doing on this stream?" Heeseung asked sarcastically, obviously referring to Niki.

pucca_princxss: LMAO, looking for his mommy ofc 🤱 (😏)

maindancertypeshit: ayo, wtf??? so dani's allowed but I'm not?? hmph >:{

maindancertypeshit has left the stream

You sighed while laughing slightly, taking a sip of the drink as water droplets now dripped unto your thighs, Heeseung's eyes doing a terrible job of not staring.

"I say we do one more round before ending the stream," you offered, looking at the time as you knew you'd wanna spend more private time with Heeseung before having to run back home.

yxstar3ject: BOOOOOOOO :(

Chelbear03: im too pressed abt riki rn to give a damn bro did NAWT have to dish me the truth like that 😭😭

mrloverl0ver: ok ok, let's make this last question worth it then hmmm ...

Sunghoon typed in thought, just as the bulb in Heeseungs side lamp suddenly shattered, the loss of light coupled with it's piercing sound making you jolt in your seat, half of your canned cocktail spilling on your shirt and chest.

"Shit," Heeseung swore under his breath, happy that none of your drink or any glass from the lightbulb got on his streaming equipment.

That's when he noticed you shivering a bit, the cold liquid contrastingly with the warmth of your body.

"C-can you grab me a towel please?," you asked softly, Heeseung taking the can from your grasp and leaving the room with haste to grab a damp and dry cloth for you.

"Here," he offered when he came back, hooking his hands at the hem of your top and pulling it over your head in one swift movement, making you gasp out loud.

You were now half-naked in front of your best friend, not to mention the tons of people watching from their digital screens.

"Heeseung, what're you-"

He was now taking off his own shirt, holding it in one hand while he wiped your chest down with the cloths he held in the other.

There was something about the way his eyes looked while wiping down your boobs, coming off as romantic despite the awkward nature of the situation.

"Put this on," he whispered so quietly you almost missed it, snaking your head through the head hole of his T-shirt while he flicked the ceiling light on, your mind running in a hundred different directions in this moment.

You're not sure if it had something to do with the alcohol, but your skin still tingled in the spots where his fingertips grazed your flesh... just like old times...

You don't think you ever put on a T-shirt faster in your life, wanting to cover up as fast as you could despite how everyone had already gotten a free show from the both of you.

laylaspapi: B👀BS ?!?!? caught in 4k? just like that !?!??!????

mrloverl0ver: guess that means the games over now since y'all started stripping regardless ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

pucca_princxss: I think Heeseung's house might b haunted :'0

Chelbear03: HEESEUNGS FUCKING ABS RN- IS HE TRYING TO KILL ME !??!?

yxstar3ject: 👁👄👁

The chat was going crazy at this point, their flood of comments honestly being the last thing on your mind as you sat bottomless in Heeseung's gaming chair, wearing his T-shirt as he searched for another shirt somewhere behind you.

A billion emotions were coursing through your veins, still trying to grasp how you went from sneaking out your bedroom window, stripping in front of an audience, and getting flustered from the mere presence of Heeseung now.

"Alright guys, this was fun but we're gonna call it a night for now," Heeseung said as he came back into frame, not even bothering to sit back down as his right hand found the mouse, moving it towards the end stream button.

"Yeah, I think my streaming career might end here," you added jokingly, making Heeseung chuckle a bit at your words, his bright smile doing nothing but make your stomach flutter all over again.

What was going on with you?

"Who knows? Maybe we can work on starting an OnlyFans together ..."

"Heeseung-"

"I'm kidding," he laughed again, looking at your face from the screen, not even aware of how he bit his lip before speaking, "you look pretty on camera though, for what its worth."

The all-too familiar tune of the livestream ending rang in your ears, the screen displaying stats of the broadcast engagement, which surpassed any and every stream you've ever filmed before.

"Wow," Heeseung marveled, just as he shut his computer off.

"I know," you added, stretching your back while sitting, "we don't even reach stats like that in a week..."

"I wasn't talking about the ratings, ____," he returned, the room seeming much more quiet now that the computer was off, even though it's been this way the whole time.

"Enough about that, though," he started again, taking your hands in his to pull you out of the chair, "I haven't been a very good host to you this evening... making you work first thing before properly treating you... allow me to make up my lacking..."

"I mean... you gave me a nice seat and something to drink... you even lended me one of your shirts after I made a big mess of myself," you replied while giggling, feeling silly as he held both of your hands while speaking formally all of a sudden.

"Yes, yes, but I'm serious," he continued, now guiding you down to the rug lying in the middle of his bedroom floor, "you still like candy, right?"

ALMOST ANOTHER HOUR had passed and it was somewhere around midnight give or take, you and Heeseung hardly feeling tired as you sat on the mat together, alternating between eating orange slices and gummy bears.

You were propped up on your elbows, a glow still present on his face from the laughter you've shared together so far, even though there was something less innocent you wanted to get off your chest.

You were feeling completely reckless already, and you figured it wouldn’t hurt for you to push things a little further.

Besides, it’s not everyday that a girl like you gets an opportunity like this just placed in her lap.

It's just like Heeseung said, you'd be a fool to give up this bond you two share and not explore it further...

Plus, you weren't sure how much longer you could hide behind the good girl act.

Giselle was right: Heeseung had sex written in full length parables all up and down his six-foot-something body, and you'd be lying if you said it didn't turn you on.... if you said it didn't reel you in, like a burning desire to explore what's corrupted.

To be ruined.

"Heeseung," you started, making him look down at you as he sat with his legs crossed, hair messy from the amount of times he ran a hand through it, "can I ask you something?... It's... kinda personal..."

He popped another strawberry flavored gummy bear into his mouth, "As long as it isn't about your period, I should be good to help you then," he chuckled slightly.

"And what makes you think that I need help with something?"

"Hmm… maybe just that way that your nails keep picking with my wrist watch right now," he answered quietly, drawing your attention to your fingers which tend to get busy whenever you were nervous.

"Oh- I... I didn't even realize...," you laughed at yourself, shying your hands away before sitting up and hiding them in your lap.

"Well go on," he urged, looking back at you with warmth in his eyes, taking off his glasses and setting them aside, "What'd you wanna ask me?"

You let out a breath, clenching your thighs a bit as your sight fell between his legs.

Fuck, did he just laugh? God, he definitely noticed your peeking... you fucking perver-

"I don't really know how to word this but..." you chewed on your lip in thought, "Sometimes... when it's just you and me alone like this... even when we're just video chatting... I feel," you looked up at the ceiling as if it'd help you divulge, "I don't really know what to call it."

He blinked at your words, adjusting his sitting position on the ground, "Are there certain things I do or say that make you feel... whatever it is that you can't explain?" He asked, tilting his head at you, just as his hand inched closer to you on the rug, but not quite touching your skin yet.

"Its a few things, actually-"

"Like what?" His hand was now on your thigh, eyes glued on your shaky figure even though you avoided eye contact, lost in the veins that trailed the pretty skin of his arm.

"When you touch me," you whispered so quietly, the only reason he heard you was because he read your lips, thinking in his own mind what it'd be like to taste them, "like that."

"Speak up for me, I can hardly hear you," he urged, almost as if cooing at you.

"I can't," you said shakily, chest expanding slightly with each heavy breath you took in and let out.

Your idea of being bold was starting to backfire... if only you could stop being so awkward about this for one second-

"It's just me, ____," he whispered with a slight chuckle this time, your hands finding the fluffy rug beneath you as your skin still stung from where he'd last touched you, "be as honest with me as you need."

"Maybe it's best we just pretend I never said anything," your voice trailed off, regretting having looked into his dark eyes that stared back at yours because you felt as though your shield had faltered, his energy coaxing your mind to wander.

"Would you mind if I took a guess?," Heeseung offered with an expression you couldn't read, but you nodded anyway, just as his hand traveled further up your thigh, your breath hitching in your chest as you felt his finger tips meet your core.

"You feel something in here, don't you?," he whispered again, "Hurts, doesn't it?"

Like hunger pains, you answered in your head, finding his shoulder as half of you thought to push him away while the other half just needed to touch him.

You nodded shyly in response, thankful that he didn't move any further so you could catch your breath, already too effected by his actions.

"I feel it sometimes, too. The aching... but I'm sure you're old enough to know there's only one way to get rid of it."

You didn't even have to ask to know what he was implying, feeling tempted to give in to whatever this urge was.

He was right though. It did ache, and so badly, your own core tearing up with a need you never intended to entertain.

That's when his touch creeped closer to your core, your thighs closing around his hand as you struggled to think clearly.

You almost couldn't in a state like this.

It baffled you how the energy was starting to change, but it was only a matter of time that you'd be able to sit bottom less in front of Heeseung looking the way he does before something sexual would happen.

"Are you willing to let me help you?" He asked, gripping your flesh between his hands as a shy sound fell from your lips.

You were having second thoughts.

"As much as I'd like to, Hee, it just doesn't seem right anymore..."

Even though this was all your idea to begin with-

"But doesn't it feel right?" he pressed, feeling his hands gently pry your thighs back open, but its not like you were putting up much of a fight either, "Besides, you wouldn't have told me if you didn't want me to do something about it..."

In this moment, you couldn't care less about maintaining that fleeting sense of virtue all the elders in your life harped on growing up.

You were simply young, horny, lovesick, and in need of a release.

Before you knew it, your legs were parted for him, your back against the rug as his head got comfortable at your heat, fingers barely grazing over your now bare cunt before he started leaving plush kisses against your sweet spot.

The ache was definitely still there, but having him this close to you made it feel better.

Almost too good, honestly…

“Heeseung-” you cried out, clamming your thighs around his head as you felt his thick and warm tongue enter you.

Hooking his hands at your knees, it helped to open you back up for him, feeling your stomach tighten as he continued to lick you down.

“I’m still here, baby…” he cooed, looking back up at you, just as your phone started to ding, "relax for me, alright?"

It was a few random messages here and there, you being too pleasure-drunk to give a damn as he continued lapping at your slick, alternating between one and two fingers as he teased your hole, only making you want more.

“Fuck…s- someone’s calling me,” you whined, propping up on your elbows with tired eyes as you reached for your phone, seeing none other than Giselle's contact number as Heeseung left your core, getting on his knees and unbuckling his belt.

"What're you-"

Your words were cut off as he leaned closer into you, his bulge resting in between your folds as he looked into your eyes and said, "Answer it."

He was already rocking against your pussy as you struggled to stay focused, his boxers being covered in your slick just from how wet you'd gotten, even though you nodded no.

“You want me to help you, don’t you?” He continued, completely aware of your stalling and hesitance as the phone continued to ring, your breathing only getting heavier as he kept grinding against you.

You bit your lip, clenching around nothing as his fingers cascaded over your sensitive spot. Heeseung practically drooled at the sight, your tight little cunt all slick and messy for him.

"Hello?" Giselle asked over the phone, "where the hell are you right now?"

Fuck.

You watched nervously as Heeseung pulled his boxers past his hips, his thickness springing up now that it was finally free to breathe.

"What're you talking about, I was just in my room," you lied terribly, watching Heeseung with pleading eyes as he lined himself up with your entrance, bracing a hand on you lower abdomen while glaring back at you, a glint of playfulness in his doe eyes.

Oh, the way you wanted to smack him across his pretty face right now-

"I wasn't born yesterday, ____. I checked your room an hour ago and you're still not here. Tell me where you are," she continued, voice cracking a bit as you winced through a bitten lip, thanks to Heeseung somehow having slid his thickness inside you.

Well, most of the way, at least...

"____?"

"Y-yes, I'm listening, just- don't worry about me, I'll be back in a bit-"

"That still doesn't answer my question, ____..."

Thud.

You accidentally dropped your phone beside your head once Heeseung pushed all the way in now, leaving a few kisses along your neck to help you calm down.

His hips were still, but for some reason, your breathing remained shaky beneath him, your step-sister still awaiting your reply on the other side of the phone.

"Call you later," you said in a squeaky voice, reaching over to hang up the phone as Heeseung started to move again, your legs trembling a bit as the nerves in your mind traveled through your whole body.

"Now that wasn't so hard, was it?" He asked sarcastically, hand following a trail from your waist, over your boob, then to your neck, goosebumps sprouting on your skin as you suddenly felt cold, your body internally shivering.

"Hee," you said with a whimper, feeling his grip loosen around your neck before he started thrusting into your walls, your slick providing just enough lubrication for him to slide in and out easily.

You couldn't even think in your mind at this point, his actions already becoming more than you could handle given how new everything was.

How nice he felt.

"C'mon, don't get quiet on me now, baby, I just started," he teased, slamming his pelvis against yours to hopefully reel a moan out of you, which obviously worked, your hand flying up to grip the fluffy rug over your head as it became harder to hide your sounds.

He hissed at the feeling of you clenching around him, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he looked into your eyes.

"So either you like it when I'm rough with you or when I call you baby..." he started in a low voice, "which is it?"

"M-maybe both... now can you stop trying to turn me on with your words for one fucking second?," you asked with labored breaths, feeling your orgasm creep up on you a lot sooner than anticipated.

Sure, this was your first time, but you were glad he didn't treat you like a baby during the whole thing.

There was just something about the way his voice sounded in this moment, the way he was rutting into you like a horny teenager that took you over the edge.

And he was being such a tease, trying to make you talk knowing that your sentences would be broken and whiney thanks to how rough he was going.

He wanted to hear you falling apart underneath him.

He let out the most attractive chuckle you'd ever heard at your words, "But I can tell it's working," he smirked, bracing himself against the floor so you could wrap your legs around him better, "now quit your complaining and keep taking me like a good girl, alright?"

You're sure your clit started doing backflips at the pet-name, coupled with the pretty sounds he was very intentionally humming beneath your ear.

He found your wrists on the rug, sliding up to your hands and interlacing his fingers with yours,

“Stop trying to act tough, I can tell this is all new to you…. don’t even know what to do with your hands, huh?” his said, watching as your eyes get lost in the view of his shaggy hair.

He snickered, “you can touch it if you want…”

Fuck, you thought to yourself. You don’t know why you felt the need to put on some act for him… maybe it was because you assumed a competition between yourself and other girls he’s been with, even though in reality, you’d been the only girl on his mind for a while now.

“I…,” you started with a stutter, “I can’t.”

Your fingers were still interlaced with his, but your inability to touch him had less to do with the fact that he had you pinned down, and more so to do with your nerves.

As badly as he wanted to keep toying with your head in this moment, he could you were getting closer from how your breath kept hitching, so he didn’t have much time to play.

Releasing his grip from your hands, he brought a thumb to your chin, tapping at it for you to open your mouth, “I’m gonna speed up now then, okay?”

He choked out, his own head becoming a little fuzzy as you parted your lips obediently for him, the sight of your tongue laving at his fingers being enough to make him feel like cumming.

He knew you had to get home quick now, but he still wanted to give you the best orgasm of your life.

Once he collected enough of your spit on his fingers, he slid his hand down, circling your swollen bud while looking into your eyes, your hands automatically flying to his shoulders to brace yourself.

“Fuck, Heeseung~,” you cursed with furrowed brows, whimpers that almost sounded like high pitched hiccups falling from your lips as you felt your hips chase his.

There was so much energy coursing through both of your bodies that it could charge your dying phone on the floor right now.

“It’s okay baby, you’re almost- shit, you’re almost there,” he grunted weakly as he continued fucking into your walls with his fingers at your clit, his own eyes closing at how good your tightness felt around him.

You never heard yourself sound like this before, getting all whiny just as he whispered the words “Come for me” against your neck, sealing the space with a kiss and retreating his hand from your core, holding you in place as your orgasm hit like a flood.

You were squirming so much, walls pulsating like a drum as he kissed you down, your hands finally being brave enough to grip at his hair while he rode out your high.

You could tell that he didn’t finish inside you, but he was nice enough to slow down and not fuck you completely stupid.

“I can’t even believe we just did that,” you mumbled mindlessly, eyes staring back at him as he started to gently caressed your cheek.

“Wasn’t too bad for a quickie though, right?,” he asked jokingly while still inside you, not quite yet ready to pull out of your comforting warmth.

To say goodbye to the you he brought out in this sex-filled space.

“No… it wasn’t bad at all,” you smiled back, words sounding somewhere in between a shocking realization and sincere compliment.

“Then I guess that means we can look forward to doing this more often-”

“Heeseung-”

“Kidding,” he whispered softly, meeting your lips in one last kiss before leaning back up to adjust his pants, “now let’s get you cleaned up and ready for home before your mom has me crucified.”

“Okay,” you said while laughing slightly until he pulled out of you, your legs trembling a bit from the missing fullness.

From the feeling in his chest, Heeseung came to fully accept that he was 110% in love with you, not giving a flying fuck about the naysayers who’d disapprove of your now-even-more-complicated friendship.

You on the other hand, came to realize that Heeseung was worth much more than being judged by a bunch of hypocrites, and that you now had the courage to make a lot of your own decisions now, even if they’re solely for the sake of pleasure.

”Still,” you continued, watching as he stood up from the ground to grab a pack of wipes from his desk, “I just remembered that I locked my bedroom window when I left.”

“That’s a good thing, right?” He asked while parting your legs, wiping your sweaty thighs down with your panties hunched up in his other hand.

You admired the view of him cleaning you up with adoration flooding your heart, your limbs letting themselves relax as feathery words fell from your lips, “It means I might have to spend the night at your place for a little longer…”

Fin…

♱ Thank you beyond words to everyone reading this right now! I teased the release of this fic a while ago but ended up changing almost everything that I’d originally written because it was kinda shitty 🥴 but hopefully you all enjoyed this fic anyway! Also, masterlist is here !!

♱ tag list: @fakeuwus @adeoluhh @zerasari @anonant @yaatrickyaaa @depressedandobsessed666 @woninluv @moonshoon @imjakes-wifeofc1 @heesbee @kaykay11sworld @wannieepisod @ilikekpop-c @heesoo11 @idkdykilr @seungjiseyo @nctislifue @ro-diaries @heesushiii @jakehooni @babygirlmarshmellow @jaysdze @princeseung @flowerbe0m @skzenhalove @rayofsunshineeee @wonsbaer @namdeyuoi @tasnim10 @cheruluv @squoxle @nikisvanillaccola @wonbinisbabygurl @addictedtohobi @yourmomscuntis2tighy @ashgonedash

#heeseung x reader #lee heeseung smut #heeseung hard hours #enhypen hard hours #heeseung fic #heeseung ff #heeseung fanfic #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen fanfic #enhypen ff #lee heeseung #heeseung hard thoughts #enhypen smut #enhypen #heeseung smut

[cometkenji]

the warm spot at the bottom of the stairs

Pairing: Ghost!Spencer Reid x Chubby!Fem!Reader CW: Fluff, Mild Angst, Soulmate AU, reader has dreams, mentions of sex/masturbation, mentions of death, cursing, reader feels like she knows him but they've never met, let me know if I missed anything please! Summary: After inheriting your grandfather's estate, you fall in love with the man from your dreams. He just so happens to be in your house, too. Disclaimer: Reader is always written with a chubby/bigger person in mind but in this she's literally not described aside from the fact that she has hips, a stomach, and legs on her body. WC: 9k (this is what happens when you let a man cook) This fic is genuinely my baby. I love soulmate aus with all my heart and soul and also love the dynamic of falling in love with a ghost. Enjoy this please, I tried <3

You swore the heat radiating off the sidewalk was enough to melt the soles of your shoes down to liquid. The sun was unforgivably angry today, glaring down at the world like it had a score to settle. You were less than thankful, as the death of your grandfather had stolen any desire you once held for warmth. The brutal dichotomy of the cold pit sitting in your stomach and the burning heat of the day only added to the sour taste in your mouth.

This house was fucking huge. 

You had no idea how your grandfather managed to hide such an enormous investment from everyone in his life but he’d managed the task seamlessly. Nobody even knew what he was giving you at first. The reading of the will and testimony left nothing but confused relatives until they had found the address that marked the estate. Some were jealous of you, some were confused, some even asked if they could come live with you once you got settled in. You had been absolutely floored when you learned he’d given you a house. Being fresh out of university, you were moving on to grad school while simultaneously preparing yourself to live with your mother until you could afford anything besides student debt payments. 

Now though, you had a castle, with no clue why a house this big was given to you of all people. You were your grandpa’s only grandchild and were by far one of the least deserving of such a generosity. Sure, you were close, but never abnormally close. You talked once a week on the phone and were glued to his side at family gatherings - but he saw your aunt everyday, and spoke with your mother much more than he ever did you. Was it pity? Maybe he saw this as the only plausible way of you escaping the fate of leeching off your mother. Hopefully he didn’t think of you so lowly. 

You mentally cursed at the dull ache in your legs that persisted even after stretching. You had been driving all day with a car packed full of stuff that needed to be hauled into the house, and only yourself to move said stuff. You said a short plea in your head to not let the pain hinder your speed and began walking into the house to view the inside. The estate was isolated, huge fences of greenery surrounded the place, adding to the pleasant sight of budding flowers throughout the front yard. Even without the towering hedges, though, the nearest neighbor was miles away. Great, you thought. Any concerns of your car being robbed while you were gone were extinguished as quick as they came, but you locked the car regardless. Force of habit. 

The heat was only lessened slightly when you reached the interior. You made a mental note to get the A.C. turned on, no way a temperature like this was a liveable one. You’re sure the numerous floor-to-ceiling windows were the culprit. They were excessive. Beautiful - of course - and you were thrilled at the amount of light they let in, but you could basically see the heatwaves permeating through the stained glass. Your eyes caught on the odd choice. The slightly colored glass making the mansion feel mildly like a church, the thought coming to you quickly and stripping any of the minimal comfort you held moments prior. That’s weird, you thought. Your grandpa had never been particularly religious. He was a man of faith - said grace before dinner and thanked Jesus for every day he lived, but never to this extent. He was rather progressive for a man his age.

The kitchen could have easily fit a team of 12 and you wondered if there had been staff at one point. There was no sign of any employees, and you prayed there weren’t any left working. The last thing you wanted was more responsibility in your life. You took your time walking the house, marveling at every painting and polished chandelier that was now an asset of yours. The house was gorgeous, you’d give at least that much to the old man. The centerpiece, of course, was the large spiral staircase leading to the second floor. As large as the house was, it held only two stories. Getting it’s square footage from length, rather than width. It was equally as glamorous as the house it resided in, however it filled you with a certain devastation you couldn’t place. As though your most primal self rejected the idea of it. That’s silly, you thought. You wanted to go upstairs, you were definitely not avoiding half of your house because a couple of your neck hairs stood at attention. The only real peculiarity was the heat pooling at the very bottom of the staircase. The kind of heat that seemed to thread itself into you, intertwine itself with your very being. The rest of the house was cold and accusatory, if your grandfather ever did live here, any of his warmth was flushed out by his death. This was the only spot in the whole house you felt calm, cared for. You could bask in it, weirdly fascinated with the little pocket of humanity that sat there. 

It was more difficult than you’d expected to pull yourself out of it, and you could have sworn you felt arms trying to pull you back in. Ten minutes into your new life and you were already on edge. Negative feelings didn’t seem to penetrate the spot at the bottom of the stairs, so you physically felt the wave of unease when it struck you upon exiting. The upstairs was creepy. The abundance of windows was apparently only a trend on the first floor, as the second floor held dark, dim hallways. The whole thing, it seemed, was lit up by ancient lamps that lined the walls. It reminded you of the Shining, and you wondered briefly if maybe your mother would let you move back in. There was a bedroom right near the staircase, and you decided it would be yours. It could have been the smallest one for all you knew, the only thing you cared about was a quick escape if such a thing was needed. Something about the house put thoughts like that at the front of your mind. 

You don’t recall ever being a paranoid person, nor a believer in the supernatural, but this house was watching you. The feeling of eyes on you was simply too strong to write off. What a warm welcome. 

—

It had been a week, but the nights so far had been sleepless ones. The people you called on day one were just now getting around to starting the A.C. so you were hoping for a decent rest tonight. The fridge was stocked, your things mainly unpacked, and the house started feeling a little more like you with each day. Although, your friends were more or less convinced there was a ghost living with you. You spoke of the feelings you had, plus the fact it was an old and mildly creepy house, and they were off and running with theories. One of the tamer ones consisted of the house being an old church - given the windows - and that the eyes you were feeling were perhaps an old priest who died here. You were less than fond of that idea, but you would take it any day to the other propositions of old mental hospitals and certain death. You made a mental note to never again let your friends speculate on situations you couldn’t get out of.

You argued that a malevolent spirit wouldn’t invoke such a comforting sense within you. You felt watched - yes - but it wasn’t as though you felt stalked. It was much worse, actually, you felt lonely. Loneliness was never a battle you fought very hard in. You had hobbies, and you had friends. The desire for a romantic companion usually took the back burner if it was even a thought at all. People questioned the topic - you were pretty, smart, capable - what more could somebody want? They asked if you were insecure, if you liked girls, told you that you were wasting your “prime years” and needed to find someone - but it was never that simple. You just didn’t get it. The feelings others spoke of were unfamiliar ones to you. You held your breath for a long time before realizing that it probably just wasn’t for you, that you were built a little differently.

Needless to say, you were uncomfortable with the sudden sensation. It felt like seeing the moon in a glass jar - something unfathomably beautiful but something you were unable to hold. Lord knows it wasn’t from a lack of desire, though. You’re sure you reeked of longing, able to suppress the lot of it but unable to stop some from slipping through the cracks of your fingers. And with no obvious direction to cast it, it just clung to you and seeped back into your skin. 

–

“No, dude, I’m telling you shit’s fucking weird.” You shoveled popcorn into your mouth as you spoke with your friend. This was the third call since you moved in. “Every night I wake up at like two in the morning and just for a split second I feel it. It’s like I'm lying on someone’s shoulder or something. And - oh my god - the amount of times I get stuck in that fucking warm spot on the stairs is gonna drive me crazy.” 

You could hear her laughing at your frustration on the other end. “What do you mean you get stuck? Y/n I'm getting worried about your mental state.” 

“No I’m telling you, I walk in this one - like - warm spot and I enter some kind of trance. Like I want to leave but I can’t - Jesus!”

“Are you alright?” Your friend was quick to ask, hearing you cut yourself off mid sentence. 

“No! This shit is haunted I swear. My kitchen lights just turned off for no reason. If I die here I’m blaming you and Kelly for not getting me out.” You were being dramatic, you knew that, but it was starting to feel justified. You don’t remember a time in the last week you felt truly by yourself.

“Hey don’t blame us for your own choi-” She started speaking, but you lost her. 

“Hello? You there?” You tried calling her again but the usual buzz of the dial tone was dead silent, the lamps that were illuminating the house followed soon after. Phone lines were the first to go in a power outing. No fucking way the power just went out. You felt around in the dark for the drawer of the end table. There had been a flashlight on the counter when you’d first arrived. You threw it in the end table because you had no clue why it was there - you were thanking God you’d done so while also praying the thing had batteries in it. You wrapped your hand around the object and said one more plea to the stars you wouldn’t have to be without light until tomorrow. Somebody must have been listening, as the room lit up when you hit the ‘on’ switch of the flashlight. 

You’d seen the fuse box towards the south end of the upstairs hallway, sitting between a Da Vinci replica and a mirror taken straight from a movie star's wet dream. I’m gonna die was the only thing you could think at a moment like this. You were for sure going to see glowing red eyes at the end of the hall and die a horrific and bloody death. Thanks grandpa. The warm spot was a welcome refuge from your journey to certain death, and you embraced the sense of  peace it brought you at a time when your heart was surely beating too fast. You held the light in front of you as you ventured up the stairs. The top of them seemed cartoonishly haunting, you thought momentarily that you would fit perfectly into a Scooby Doo episode. It was vast and dark, having multiple pathways you could walk down, but you set your sights on the south hall and did your best to disable your peripheral vision. It was right there. You just had to reset the power and you’d have your precious light back. Who puts a fucking mirror above a fuse box? 

You held the flashlight between your teeth as you focused on your task. Open and reset. Open and reset. It was truly as simple as that and then you could be done. Go watch a midnight rerun on TV and pray that the spirits would leave you alone. Open and reset. The switches were flipped off - you didn’t think that was normal but what did you know - so you flipped them back on and heard the hum of life returning to the house. Thank God. Your nerves dissipated almost immediately. You were alright, no ghost had it out for you. It’s an old house, and would probably experience things like this a lot. You could do that again if you had to. You looked up, though, and ate your words. There was definitely a man behind you. If you had been trying to look at him, you would have seen he was young, tall. You probably would have thought he was attractive, but you had no time for that. You whirled around, yelping at the sight of him and mentally preparing to defend your life. It proved futile though, he was gone as quickly as he came. There was nowhere he could have gone that fast, so as much as you were certain he was there, you settled for him being imaginary. It was dark upstairs, and you were scared out of your mind. Surely your eyes were overcompensating for the paranoia that was racing through you. You walked back to the couch on guard and decided to call your friend back tomorrow. It was nearly twelve, and you knew she had work tomorrow. You could cope using TV and proper lighting to comfort you until sunrise. What’s one more sleepless night?

“You boys let me know if you need anything.” You heard the words in your own voice as if listening to a stranger. 

“Sure thing, doll.” All the men were in uniform. Gray fabric covered their bodies, adorned with hats of the same color. Soldiers.

You walked back behind the front counter as the bell above the door continuously chimed at the arrival of new guests. Orders were being shouted to the cooks. You stared at the bold letters painted on the large graffiti piece decorating the wall, “Cathy’s Cooking.” A greasy apron covered the light blue dress beneath it - waitress attire. The smell of fried eggs clashed hard with the scent of sanitizer you were using to wipe down the counter. Bells rang to signal orders were ready to be taken out to guests, and you discarded the rag you used to mop up spilled coffee. 

“Thanks, Benny.” You nodded to the chef as you took the food plates to table two. He nodded back at you before returning to flipping bacon. 

“L/N!” Your manager barked at you. “Take your break. Be back in thirty.” He was a friendly man, though he got a bit hostile under pressure. 

You couldn’t be more thankful for the break. It was hour 6 of your shift and you were beginning to think he might never let you off. You removed the apron as quick as possible and excused yourself out the back entrance to cool off in the alley way. It got hot as hell during rush hour, so the way the slight breeze nipped your cheeks felt like heaven. 

“Tough shift?”

“Jesus!”

He started laughing as you startled, turning to face him. “‘Fraid it’s just me, honey.” He walked towards you as you grinned at him.

“You scared me, Spence.” 

He shook his head, mocking you. “I’m so sorry.” Drama queen. “How ever will I make it up to you?”

You giggled at that, and wrapped your arms around his neck as he got closer. He put his hands on your hips, leaning you against the brick wall of the alley. You could feel your lungs open up when he kissed you, always feeling like you could breathe better when his lips were on yours. He was your God given destresser. He still donned his uniform but had opted for taking the hat off, he knew you hated when his hair was hidden.

“That’s not very nice, Reid. I thought you were a gentleman. What would your boys think of you being so mean to a lady?”

He smiled a bit at that. “You like when I’m a little mean, Y/N.” 

Fuck. He had you there. 

You looked to the side for a second to snuff out some of the tension. “How long are you here for?”

“We’re in town for two weeks. Gotta catch a boat up to base 14 on the 20th. Supposedly they’re preparing for a big fight.”

You frowned as you made eye contact with him.“I get so worried about you. About all of you. I don’t know what I’d do if - you know if something happened.” He’d been a soldier for a little while now, joining when he turned 18. He’d kept his hands on your hips, and you started to run your hands through his hair, a nervous habit you picked up when the two of you first got together.

“I know, honey. But by the time it’s done I’ll be off my leash. I do this and we can run away together.”

You looked at him the way you always did - with such admiration and love that he often had to look away before it went to his head. He swore he looked at you the same, but you knew deep down nobody could love anyone as much as you loved him. You laughed a bit at the elation you got from just his presence. 

“I got lucky with you, Reid.”

He just shook his head. “Give yourself more credit, L/n.”

Your consciousness hit you like a truck and you realized before long that sun was shining through the windows. You’d fallen asleep sometime between ultimate terror and fleeting hope of your survival. And that dream - dear lord what the fuck was that dream. It was more vivid than you thought possible. You always forget most of your dreams when you wake up, but this time it felt like forgetting would be a betrayal. You could recall word for word every single thing about that dream. It was as though you saw a movie of your own life. A feeling so familiar you could taste it but just far enough to escape your grasp - and boy were you reaching. Not to mention the man. You didn’t know if this was some sort of coping mechanism you were inventing in your head but that was definitely the same man from the mirror last night. An imaginary friend. You had an imaginary friend as a grown woman. Terrific. 

–

“You’re never going to attract a suiter with such a tragic expression, my dear.” This had to be the third time your mother had roused this point in the past hour. 

“These dances are dreadful, idiotic nights of captivity that do nothing but mock the existence of genuine companionship.” The irony of you saying this while patting your cheeks with rose pigment was not lost on you. “Let me scrub myself raw and willingly restrain myself in hopes a man will see me and fall in love.” You spat out the last word with enough vitriol to hopefully drown yourself in. “Maybe he’ll like me so much he’ll lay claim and I can live on to be his housewife and half a person. How I've always dreamed of letting a man decide how much value I have.” You were flustered by the end of your spiel, looking at your mother through the large vanity with the tentative hope of a child asking for sweets. 

“You read too much, darling. Those little romance books of yours are nothing but nonsense.” She was a professional at writing you off by now. “You know plenty of women who are perfectly satisfied with their lives. This is how we do things, Y/n. I don’t understand why you insist on fighting it so intently.” 

She was never truly angry at your defiance, only tired. You could never tell if she was tired of you complaining or if she, like you, was tired of living this way. Your mother had married young - even for the times - and you knew your father left much to be desired in her life. They were basically repulsed by each other, only joining in union to produce a child. Your mother had been thrilled to have a daughter. Your father would trade you if he could, but he made do. The ultimate lack of affection between the two of them made you ill. You weren’t much older than your mother had been, you could very well end up trapped and child-bound in a loveless marriage.

“I would rather die alone than end up with my father.” You spoke, she sighed. 

“I know.”

You stared at her through the mirror for a moment longer, then you rose from your chair. Your makeup was done, your look now complete. You noticed your mother’s eyes start to well up at the sight of you and she started to walk closer. 

“My beautiful girl.” She smiled, forbidding the tears to venture down her cheeks, and held your shoulders. “You deserve a man who will worship you. Your future husband will be the luckiest man on planet Earth.” A gentle prompt, but a prompt nonetheless. You knew she loved you, but she carried more shame as you got older. Having only a daughter was something frowned upon, but having only a daughter hellbent on avoiding marriage was something that weighed on her. 

“I’ll see you in the carriage.” Then she was gone, kissing your cheek and taking her exit to go talk with the director of the communal ride. Carriage was being generous, it was more like a one-way wagon to the local suiter’s ball. You watched her leave with a sense of grief so intense it nearly toppled you. She deserved a man like that too. 

-

This was your third ball of the month. The pool of potential partners diminished with each one. People would often take whatever they could get, meaning less and less people even needed these nights anymore. You walked in with your mother, hand resting gently in the crook of her extended elbow. Your father stopped attending with the two of you a while ago. You believed he’d given up hope of a man ever choosing you - Lord knows he wouldn’t. Scanning the crowd, you saw little to look forward to. The music was pleasant, you would dance with a couple men who seemed bearable at best and criminal at worst, indulge in some of the enticing pastries and teas, and then you would leave. Back home until your mother dragged you out the following week for another one. With your current rate, you assumed you would end up marrying the vagabond that perused your neighboring streets. Taking another look around, you thought you might prefer that. 

You made your temporary home in a corner chair, letting your mother excitedly drag prospects up to you and watch dejectedly as they ruled you out as an option. You felt bad for her, considered caving in and finding a man to give you a child, but you remember swiftly how long the years take to pass when you’re miserable. The chair gave you a good view of the room, you could see the entrance and the dancefloor filled with enticing women waiting for men to notice them. You could feel the sweat start slicking your skin beneath the corset you wore. It was too hot in here. 

If you hadn’t been so determined to ignore the occasional advances of bored men, you would have missed the small group entering the area. Two women and two men, you wondered briefly if it was two couples, but discarded that thought. This wasn’t a place for couples. You felt your heart physically lurch at the sight of the last man in the row of four, as though your heart was running to greet an old friend. Had you seen him before? Surely you would have remembered such a visceral reaction. You averted your eyes before he could notice you. You don’t remember ever wanting to be noticed by a man - especially not this badly. You allowed yourself the escape of your own thoughts, getting lost in your head to pass the time and focus on anything other than what was probably the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. 

“Do you mind if I sit with you?”

You looked up, he was standing above you. The chair next to you had been taken all night, the same woman had been sulking in her seat, and you found comfort in the fact someone else was unhappy to be here. She was gone now. Someone was definitely messing with you. 

“Not at all.”

Your mouth was drier than it had ever been. You wondered if your lips remained stained from the color you applied earlier. You’d done nothing but sit all night and yet you were praying nothing had happened to your makeup. 

“Why are you alone in a corner?” 

“Men tend to be repulsed by my pessimism. I also happen to hate it here. Serves for a less than desirable combination.” You refused to let your sudden attraction diminish your stubbornness. You hated the self-consciousness racing through you, no man had the right to take your assurance in yourself. 

“Why do you hate it here?” He wasn’t being mocking. He seemed - genuinely - a little sad at the thought of you being unhappy. 

“Well, sir, I am of the belief that these dances are nothing but congregations of people settling for lives that won’t make them happy. They trade excitement for safety as though the presence of security has to mean the presence of misery. I don’t think anyone can know the true meaning of love in our current state as a society.” You didn’t look at him as you spoke, instead staring out at the people dancing. “I hold no desire to settle. I am capable of making happiness on my own. Most men don’t like the thought of me not needing them.” 

You were almost positive you lost him. You were betting on him not being there when you looked, preparing yourself to bite the bullet and cope with tonight’s losses. Maybe your mother would agree to leave early. 

You heard him chuckle softly. “Sir.” He repeated your words, finding humor in the formality. “My name’s Spencer.” He added. “And I also happen to hate the purpose of these events. I’ve never actually been to one before, but I’m new to the city, and something about tonight was begging me to come out.” 

You were absolutely bewitched by him. “I’m Y/n.”

“Fitting.” He smiled, a smile directed at his own thoughts, as though something in his mind had clicked. “Will you dance with me?”

The music had slowed severely. You scoffed at his proposal, but you were taking his hand as if you’d been waiting on this. Maybe you had been. You were grateful for the ballad that was playing, never having been one for upbeat dancing. He led you gracefully, and for once you felt yourself relinquish power. With a mind like yours, a man’s company was almost never wanted. With this one, though, you laid your heart at his feet as if you’d done so a dozen times before. The heat of his hands was seeping through your dress, and his eyes were locked with yours. 

“I feel like I know you.” A confession. He had an effect like that.  

“Maybe you do.” 

–

Two in the morning. Everyday you’d woken up at two in the morning from a different dream involving the mysterious ‘Spencer Reid’. You friends had kindly dubbed him the “Man of your dreams” following the stories you told them. You’d been a housewife, trying to welcome him home from work before he laid you down and made an altar of your dining table.You’d been the daughter of a king, at one point, falling in love with his favored knight. Shamefully, that one haunted you. Reappearing in your mind during intimate times when you needed a spark. You’d never been one for desire either. When your friends started preaching the wonders of sex to you during your highschool days, you felt no pull towards the act. Just another it you didn’t understand. Now, though, this house served as an aphrodisiac. You lost count of your streak by day 13, and were now just begging whoever put this apparition in your home for the strength to keep your hand out of your pants. 

Spencer had become more like a roommate rather than an unwanted guest. You saw him in most reflective surfaces around the house. You felt him everywhere. He sat at the table with you, watched TV with you, he would wait by the door when you got home from work. Sometimes, your hand or your shoulder would run hot. Physically hot, like he was putting his hands on you. You wondered if he was around during those times, but if he was there he made sure you didn’t know it. You were gaining a sort of intuition for him. The thought Spencer would like that struck you numerous times when you were window shopping or when you tried on an outfit. You were starting to think maybe you were just crazy. Perhaps a ghost who seemed to be your soulmate and made you incredibly horny was how all psychotic breaks started. 

Weirdly, through your bizarre dreams and inconsistent sleeping patterns, this was the most well rested you’d felt in a while. Waking up at two am was routine now, sometimes you managed to fall back asleep afterwards but most times you were up dwelling on the images your mind had shown you that night. You thought maybe your body was just adjusting - surely it was nothing supernatural giving you energy - just the adaptivity of the human brain. One persistent thing you couldn’t adapt to, though, was how much you missed him. The increasing number of times you woke up to being the only occupant of your bed was starting to wear you down. You feel like you’d spent lifetimes with this man and yet he was someone you never knew. You'd seen the two of you fall in love countless different ways except the one that actually counted - the present. 

“I genuinely don’t know how much longer I can do this.” Another phone call, another conversation about your rapidly declining mental state. “I have fallen in love with a figment of my own imagination. Surely this is some demented form of narcissism.”

“I don’t think it works like that, Y/n.” Your friend was terrible at comforting people. It probably didn’t help that you hadn’t been fully honest with her about the severity of your situation. From where she was standing, you had learned to lucid dream and now that was bleeding mildly into your real life. Not the biggest deal, maybe you were just lonely. 

“It’s a ghost, dude, I’m fucking telling you. There’s no way I’m imaginative enough to conjure all this shit up.” 

“You know his name right? Go down to the library and look him up. If he’s a ghost then surely there’ll be something to find.”

Holy shit. She was a genius. “Oh my God you’re so smart. I love you. You just saved my life. You’re God’s gift to the planet. Who would I be witho-”

“Jesus Christ will you just go? Stop kissing my ass and start driving. I want details when you get back.” 

You don’t know if you’ve ever been so eager to get to the library of all places. If you could snag a computer spot then you could put an end to all of this. He wasn’t real, realistically you knew that, but you had a fool-proof way to check. If he was real you were going to have to come to terms with the fact you could see dead people. Well, a dead person. You had never seen any before Spencer. You’d never seen Spencer either, not before the house at least. They say you can’t make up faces, that if you see someone in a dream then you’ve seen them in real life but you were incredibly doubtful of that by now.

Spencer Reid. Thankfully the man didn’t have a particularly common name. You hoped there would be limited matches, less to look through. Pretty soon you could accept your own mental insanity and maybe ask your mother to spot you for some therapy. Well, moment of truth. You watched each letter be typed in with baited breath until his full name was in the search bar. Even just looking at his name brought that sense of calm. You were hopeless. Until, apparently, you weren’t. 

Brilliant Dr. Reid dead at 26

Former FBI agent Spencer Reid found dead in his home

Spencer Reid co-workers speak out on his legacy. Where to go from here?

You scoured every article you could find, analyzing every pixel of every image available. This was your guy. Same Spencer Reid from your dreams. Same Spencer Reid that stands behind you in every mirror of the house. Holy shit who was this guy? He was a little older than you, died last year in the summertime. Each article painted a brutal picture of his death, speculating on how the doctor died but never comfirming anything. Only that he was dead when paramedics got there, the sight of his covered body being extracted from his home was one that would stick with you. His home. It was the same house you were living in. It’s possible your grandfather was renting it out. That’s probably why nobody ever knew about it - he wasn’t living there. You didn’t know when water started pooling in your eyes, you only realized them as they started falling down your cheeks. You didn’t even know him. You didn’t even know him but you felt like someone just sucker punched you and were about 60% sure your lunch was coming back up. Jesus. 

There was no way you could tell your friends about this. The majority of your brain was pleading with you to rationalize this. Maybe you’d seen one of the articles before. Maybe your grandpa talked about him. Holy shit he had known your grandpa. Every individual thought you had was identifiable and that was far too overwhelming for your brain to handle. You signed out of the computer and went to go sit in your car. Could you even drive like this? Your hands were shaking so bad there was a good chance you’d crash the car before you got home. It’s twenty minutes, you thought. You had to go back. Staying away from the house any longer felt like a punishment. You can make it twenty minutes.

–

“No, no. Like I said it was just some old guy who wrote a book. No sign of my Spencer.” You were lying straight through your teeth. You figured it didn’t truly matter. If you sat here and told the entire story of finding exactly who you were looking for online, you think she’d have checked you into a facility. 

“Maybe if you believe hard enough you can manifest him.” 

“Wow you’re hilarious. Remind me again how I ever lived my life without such a humorous presence.”

“I question that same thing everyday, Y/n.” You could hear the smile embedded in her words.

“I’ll let you go. I know Dylan is probably waiting on you. Thanks for checking up on the Spencer chronicles.” You felt slightly bad. She was on her honeymoon currently, and instead of spending time with her new husband, she was listening to your stories of fraternizing with a ghost. 

“I’m sorry you’re going through this. I’m sure it’s weird as hell. Call me up if you need to, yeah? Hotel has unlimited calls so I can talk all night if you need to.” She was an angel in this world.

“Thanks, same goes here. If you get sick of your husband you know where to find me. Remember to use protection.” 

“Alright, nevermind. You may suffer by yourself for all I care.” She laughed while she threatened you.

“Bye, honey. Love you.” You should have felt alone, but you never did. He was most likely here with you. 

The exhaustion had well and truly crept up on you. You planned on getting home and calling your friend immediately, but you ended up needing a good few hours to cry and pace around the house. You weren’t scared - it was essentially the opposite. The complete lack of fear bred so much confusion that you didn’t know how to cope with the amount of frustration on your shoulders. You paced the house hoping to find him. You wanted to be near him. You harbored the immature hope that knowing who he was would grant you the ability to see him. Did you even know who he was? He was a doctor, an agent, but who was he to you? Is that what you needed to know in order to see him?

Now, sitting on your bed, you felt like you’d been through the ringer. The mental gymnastics of the day weighing heavily on your body. You needed to go to sleep. You wanted to go to sleep. In the last week or so you’d noticed a certain excitement regarding the promise of another tale, another dream. They were so extravagant, not even in the details of them, just in the consistency of pure emotion. You could have been fighting dragons or sitting on the porch in rocking chairs. If he was by your side, there was always this certain euphoria surrounding the two of you. A feeling reserved just for you and him. God you missed him.

– 

You woke up slowly to a familiar bed beneath you, this was your house. The window was open, curtains blowing cautiously as the mild chill of the Fall breeze wafted in and dusted over your collarbones. It wasn’t this cold last night. You felt the breeze again on your whole body, and realized you were lying naked on top of the ruffled comforter. Had he pulled the blanket off you?

“Are you cold? I didn’t think to shut the window when I got up. I was kind of rushing to get my stuff.” You noticed then that he was sat behind a canvas, angled so he could glance between you and the task at hand with ease. He noticed you furrow your eyebrows, and even managed to catch the minuscule tense of your muscles as you prepared to sit up.

“Stay still for me, honey. I’m almost done.” He was adding feather-light brushstrokes to the piece, a finishing touch of his you now recognized from watching him paint so much. 

“This isn’t a very good pose, Spence. You know I’m not the most photogenic.” You referred to the fact you had been sleeping as he painted, limbs not organized and environment chaotic. Notoriously unfavored things by the man. Maybe he was hoping to capture a candid version of you. 

He exhaled a laugh. “How rich coming from you.” His lips quirked upward as he continued adding touch-ups to his art. “Something about you this morning…I don’t know.” He shook his head like he was talking to himself rather than you. “You just looked…mesmerizing.” He shrugged, brushing off the sentiment. “Felt wrong to just look at you.”

Dumbfounded was the only word you could think to describe yourself. He’d painted you before, mainly from the neck up for practice with faces, but this was different terrain. You were nervous to see the piece. You thought of your hips, your stomach, your legs. A silhouette he’d sworn time and time again was worthy of worship. One he wanted to treasure. You hoped you’d see a glimpse of yourself through his lens, hoped all that adoration would show on the canvas. Once he was finished with it, he turned it so you could see. It was breathtaking. His talent never failed to leave you speechless. 

“I feel like I should be paying for this.” You joked, but still felt as though something should be given in return. He stood from his stool and joined you on the bed.

“I assure you, I’m well compensated.” Your face ran hot. “Can I hang it?”

“Spence, I’m naked-”

“Not downstairs, Y/n.” He chuckled. “I’d put it there.” He nodded to a vacant wall space on the right side of the room, entirely visible from his side of the bed. 

“You want me watching you sleep, Reid?” 

He grinned at you, shaking his head slightly at your remark. “Just wanna be able to see you.” He held your eyes. “I’m hoping looking at you before I go to sleep will give me good dreams.” You hummed in sarcastic agreement, your gaze falling soft a moment later.

“You can if you want to.” He looked relieved. 

“Thanks, honey.” He looked stunning in the morning light. The sun hadn’t risen too long ago, and he was only covered partially by a pair of joggers. He was practically luminous, the bare skin of his chest looking golden in the sunlight. You stuck your hands out to feel him, and you felt as though you were trying to touch heaven itself. He leaned down to be closer to you, he always said you felt magnetic. 

“You should let me paint you like this more often.” 

“Is that right?”

“Mhm”

And, just like before, you could breathe again when he kissed you. Truly breathe. It was times like these when he felt like your oxygen, like pulling away should be sin. Lord knows you would suffer any version of Hell for him. 

–

Your frustration seemed to have doubled in your sleep. Two am. You were gonna find that fucking painting. It wasn’t in the spot he left it - you would have noticed a giant painting of yourself naked on the walls, but you double checked to be sure. You threw up every light switch you came across and started scavenging through the upstairs. There was a certain tug in your body - when you didn’t find it in a room, you knew it wasn’t there, something internal telling you to look elsewhere. It was only when you were halfway done with the downstairs raid that you remembered the storage room. You’d found it when you first moved in, a room full of dust and white tarps covering furniture and other indecipherable shapes. It had to be in there.

You wrecked havoc on the tiny room. Tearing off layers of fabric quickly, leaving little thought to where you were throwing them, completely tunnel visioned on finding the painting. You came across a covered square the same size as the canvas had been. It was coated in so much dust that the covering looked ancient, and you were begging any conceivable being to be merciful, to let you have at least this if you couldn’t have him. You unveiled the shape to find the same vibrant pigments you’d seen just hours before. It was you, draped over the comforter and basking in the hue of the morning. This was it, you thought. Holy shit this is real. You had no grounds to deny this anymore. Spencer was a real guy, clearly he’d died in this house and clearly the two of you had lived enough lives together to fill months of sleepless nights with. 

What did this mean for you? Were you a clone? Were you and Spencer both clones? Were you living in a simulated reality and all of this was actually a ruse calculated to induce reactions in the brain that could then be studied? Oh my god - were you a ghost too? Had you died and were now stuck in some form of purgatory?

You felt sick with it. You didn’t know you were capable of bearing such intense metaphorical weight. You needed to see him. Maybe if you went to sleep, you would realize you were having a dream and could figure some things out. That’s so stupid. You mentally scolded yourself for even thinking of such a dumb idea. You needed to speak with him. You needed him to tell you what was going on. Of course him and everyone in your life who could have known him were six feet deep. A seance, maybe? Perhaps  just buy a ouija board and wing it. You’d seen the most of him when you were asleep, that had to be the key to figuring this out. Please dear god let it be the key to figuring this out. You took the painting and headed back upstairs. Maybe it could serve as a medium, you thought. That’s a thing, right?

You don’t think your bed had ever seemed so uninviting. You remember how grateful you’d been to finally sleep on your first day here. It was a pain in the ass hauling a mattress up a spiral staircase and the moment you realized you were done was a relief to say the least. Now you stared at it and your mouth ran dry. What if this didn’t work? What did you even want to happen? Were you going to rummage through your dreams and play detective to piece together what might have happened in your past? No degree of mental antagonizing could push you off course by now. He was real. You know he’d been a real man, and surely the painting of you meant you’d known him as something other than a ghost. You were simply praying this would work out how you wanted. You needed a semblance of closure, even just a small one.

–

The room was dark, making you double check if you opened your eyes in the first place. You hadn’t had a dream. This was the first time in months you had fallen asleep and woken up without having lived a different life. You felt tears forming in your eyes. The disappointment you felt was so immeasurable that your brain practically short circuited trying to find a way to process it. You knew it was a long shot for everything to be fixed overnight, but you’d expected something. Like he was reading your mind, the bed dipped down, him now occupying the space next to you in bed. 

You were worried your head might fall off your neck with how quickly you turned to look at him. The moonlight came beaming in through the window, like she was your secret ally, giving you enough light to finish your battle. It lit him up, practically shining through him like it would a crystal. He was ethereal. You stared into the same brown eyes you’d been looking into for months and felt your resolve give way from within you. You could have looked at him forever, you wanted to look at him forever, but you crashed hard into him. You would have fused your soul to his at that very moment if you were able to. Nobody had ever drawn out such a reaction - you needed to feel him. It was the proof you had been begging for, he was here, he was tangible. You could finally know what it all meant. 

You felt his chest jolt as he chuckled at you. “I missed you.” You could hear the smile in his words. 

Choking on a sob, you spoke your response so quietly you could barely hear yourself. “What the fuck is going on?” You knew tears were probably soaking through his shirt but he just held you against him. “Please tell me you know what’s happening.” You were muttering your words quickly, sharply inhaling between your sentences as air refused to stay in your lungs.

He ran his hand up and down the length of your forearm, a motion so familiar and so comforting you’re sure your knees would have buckled if you weren’t lying down. “Just relax, honey. I can explain everything, ok? I just need you to breathe right now.”

It was hard to maintain your oxygen through the sobs begging to get out of your chest but you were nothing if not stubborn. You needed an explanation. If that was his condition then so be it. You took a deep breath, regaining your ability to inhale and exhale at a regular pace. You could see the room better now having been awake in the dark for a while, so you tried to focus on anything that might help. The painting. You stared holes into that thing and forced your breathing to even out. 

“I was really proud of that one.” His words held an instinctual twinge of fondness, still smiling as he spoke. Like now that he had you, he could describe any horror of the world and still be happy with you in his arms. He looked back at you, tracing his thumb along your jaw. “You seem to get prettier with every lifetime.”

Even as the overwhelming confusion wrecked your brain, your body was completely in tune with him. Warmth seemed to spring to life in your stomach, his words bypassing any guards you had to root themselves within you. He regarded the situation so lightly, so casually. He wasn’t worried about slipping away, or running out of time. He would have given you a decade to calm down if you needed it. He seemed content with just calling you pretty, as though he’d waited a century to touch you again. 

“My dreams, were they -” You paused. You didn’t even know what to ask him. “What were my dreams?” Were they real?

He took a moment to just stare at you. The smallest, knowing smile on his face and a look of pure adoration in his eyes. He knew what you were asking. “They were us.” Fucking obviously. If you were any more on the edge of your seat you would fall off. “All the lives we’ve lived together.” Jesus.

“How long ago-”

“Two thousand years, 5 months, 27 days, and-” he leaned up slightly to check the clock “14 hours.” Giving you the cutest tight-lipped smile when he finished talking like he didn’t just say you’d been in love for two millennia. 

“So we’re soul mates?”

“Essentially.” He nodded. ‘Soulmates’ was close enough. 

“But - is everyone like this, then?” Did all your friends have this too? Everyone in the world? “Everyone has a soulmate?” Your friend’s on her honeymoon right now. 

He laughed a little and shook his head. “No, no. It’s just us.” What was so special about the two of you? “For all I know of at least. Your uh…your husband-” He hesitated for just a second, fingers digging into your skin just a fraction harder. “He found out about us. Had his mother cast a spell. He thought he was punishing us, I think. Figured we’d get sick of it after a while. Poor guy, all he did was condemn us to eternity together.” He held no genuine pity for the guy, more amusement at the thought of his plan actually succeeding. 

“How long have you been here?” You hadn’t bothered to check when the articles were from, too busy trying to keep your head on straight to look for the publication date. 

“A year.” A year of him alone in this house. God, you couldn’t even imagine. “I started having dreams of you. Everyday I just felt, like, something pulling me away from where I was. I knew your grandfather from an old case I worked and everything just seemed to happen.” He reminisced fondly, like the memory didn’t hurt him. “I don’t even really know how I died. I just remember having a party one night, and how the hallway looked from the bottom of the stairs.” Oh my God the warm spot.

“When you moved in I was thrilled but - fuck, honey, it was torture.” He delivered the line like it was a joke but his eyes were watering. “I couldn’t talk to you, I couldn’t help you - I couldn’t fucking touch you and it was unbearable.” His hands hadn’t left you since you woke up. Making up for lost time, you guessed. There was one question you were brutally aware of, something that persisted in your head even as you tried to enjoy the moment. 

“Why can I see you now, then?”

He sighed, so full of devastation that it was clear he’d been preparing for this. “You can’t.”

“What?”

“You’ve seen all our lives, Y/n. This is the only one left.” He was so delicate in his explanations. His palms soothing over your face as if trying to physically soothe the sting of his words.

“Wait what does that-” What was he talking about? “I don’t understand.”

“To be honest, I don’t really understand it either.” He exhaled at his own ignorance, the words unfamiliar in his mouth. “For the first time, I don’t know what’s gonna happen when you wake up.”

“Wake up? What do you mean wake up - Spence I’m awake.” You held onto his wrist that was near your face for emphasis, his hand still caressing your face. “I’m awake.” 

His eyes were definitely watering. “No, Y/n, you’re not.”

“Spencer.” You’d never said it so sadly before. Tears were in your eyes for the second time that night. You would have done anything to carve this moment into stone. Sit here in his arms until time forced you into your next life. 

“It’s ok, honey.” He was always reassuring, always safe. “We’ve done this for two thousand years, Y/n. You’re bound to get a little unlucky sometimes.” His optimism in the face of such a crushing development almost made you sick. Some things never change. “I finally have you back, alright? Just lay with me for a while. Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out. We’ve got plenty more lives to live.”

You halted the tears in your eyes, sniffling once to reign yourself in. “Ok.” You laughed, a little tearfully, and kissed him with all the love you had to give. 

Plenty more lives to live.

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[luvyeni]

girllll can you please write a smut about churchboy!mark x fem!reader <33

NICE BOY; MARK LEE

pairings. churchboy!mark x fem!reader

wc. 1k

warnings. dom!mark , oral (m. recieving), face fucking , unprotected sex (he pulls out) , degrading, doggy style, crying

i hope you like it <3 !

everybody dotes on mark , his innocent church boy facade has blinded everyone , but you see it , you see right past him ...

—

you huff , watching your parents crowd around mark along with the other parents after service , rolling your eyes as he bats his eyelashes , speaking so kindly... like he wasn't drunkenly sticking his tongue down some random girls throat last night , just like he does every weekend.

mark is a good actor for sure , he was able to put up this act , this good boy next door and everyone ate it up like crazy , maybe you were jealous because almost slipped past your overbearing parents , but they couldn't see the mask that he was wearing.

"＿ , come." your mother called you over , you sighed , unfolding your arms , walking over to them. "yes mother." you said. "mark will be joining us for dinner tonight , his parents are staying for the extra service." the boy stood in front of you , that boyish smile. "i want you to give him a good welcome into our home , make him feel at home." you wanted to scream. "could you not do it." you said.

your mom glared at you , her eyes piercing your skin. "fine." your mother went back to smiling. "good , now why don't you two go wait in the car , me and your father will be out shorty." she handed you the keys , "be a good girl." you could see mark smirking out the corner of your eye.

you guys made it to the car , opening the door , climbing in. "i saw you glaring at me." mark finally spoke as soon as you closed the door. "yeah , that's because i don't like you." you reached over , turning the car on , music lowly playing on the radio , sitting back in your seat. "that's too bad , i think your pretty cool." you rolled your eyes.

"drop the act mark , you might have your parents and the church fooled but im not dumb." you scoffed. "what did i do?" mark wasn't offended , he just wanted to fuck with you. "that innocent act you put on annoys the fuck out of me , because you have everyone eating out the palm of your hand , when in reality you were struggling to stand yesterday , as you shoved your tongue in yeeun's or god knows where else." you hissed.

it was silent for a second , you thought you actually might've hurt his feelings , until he spoke again. "are you upset at that?" he started , "or is it because it's not you that im sticking my tongue in." he was real close , whispering in your ear , making you shiver , mark noticed this , smirking. "i think we've come to actual reason you're pissed , you want me to fuck you." you turned to him , disgust evident on your face. "in your dreams mark lee."

"i mean yeah you are , but im glad to know im in yours too." he kissed your cheek , you wiped it , making him laugh. "come on , no one's around , you don't have to pretend you hate me anymore." he said. "im not pretending." you smiled. "oh really , what if i just." his hand creeping up your thigh , you sighed , breathing picking up. "you mean to tell me you won't be wet as fuck." he bit his lip. "n..no." you tried to remain strong , but he could tell he was just inches away from breaking you. "okay , let's see." before you could say anything , he ran his thumb down your covered slit , you bit your lip as a act of defiance.

"tsk , i see you're a brat , i like brats , i love breaking them down into mindless sluts." he pulled his hand from under your dress. "fix yourself , your parents are coming." and just like that , he turned that innocent persona back on just as your parents opened the door , getting into the car. "i hope we didn't keep you waiting long mark , hoping our daughter hasn't been too much of nuisance." he smiled turning to you , his eyes dark with lust.

"no ma'am , she been such a good girl."

the ride home was nothing short of torturous , mark was sitting close to you , the sweet way he talked to your parents about the service , was a completely contrast to how he was toying with you , sneaking his hands up your skirt , playing with your clit through your panties , occasionally smirking when you bit your fist , or cover your mouth , looking out the window , trying not to moan , your parents not suspecting a thing.

"＿ , why aren't you talking?" your dad said. "because im not intrested." your mother called out your name. "stop acting like that , be kind to mark , you could learn a lot from a nice boy like him." you scoffed , "nice boy my a- shit!" you glared at mark because he pinched your thigh , causing your outburtst. "＿ ! we don't talk like that , what's wrong with ?" your mother questioned just as you pulled into your driveway. "let's just drop it , let's hurry inside , i have to prepare dinner."

as soon as you walked in , taking your shoes off , you beelined it to the steps. "young lady , where are you going?" your mother said. "upstairs , can i not do that?" you stated. "loose the attitude , and take mark with you." your draw dropped. "you barely allow haechan to sit on the couch , let alone go to my room alone." you exclaimed. "that's because who knows what you two will get up to up there , mark is a good boy , we trust him." you were about to say something , when your dad spoke up , "hurry the game is on , and i can't hear."

you looked at the boy , who sat there smiling , you just knew he was eating this up. "come on , don't just stand there." you stomped up the stairs , him following close behind you. "don't touch anything , just sit in the bed." you opened your bedroom door , letting him in , shutting the door.

"oh what's this." you turned around , your eyes widening as mark held your underwear in his hand. "these don't cover much do they , pretty sexy though." you snatch them out of his hands , stuffing them back into the drawer. "i told you not to touch anything." you snapped. "they were right there." he leaned back , manspreading , your eyes travelled down to his thighs.

"princess , my eyes are up here." he smirked. "unless , it's something you want down there. "like it could even get me to cum." you snorted , this must've pissed mark off. "get over here." his voice dropped a few octaves , shocking you, it turned you on a little. "now." you decided to play with him a bit now. "you want to listen to some music?" you turned on your speaker , turning on your favorite playlist. "i need to get out of this dress." you walked towards your bathroom , but mark was quicker , grabbing your arm , pulling you in between his thighs.

"you don't think i can't get you to cum?" he scoffed , "how about you ask yeeun." you rolled your eyes. "she's easy to please." you snapped back. "and you aren't , rubbing you through your panties had you biting your fist , trying not to moan like a slut on front of your parents." he hissed , unzipping your dress , pulling your dress down. "mark!"

"get on your knees." he said , you ignored him. "okay." he pushed you down to your knees , in between his legs. "i guess i do have to treat you like a rag doll." he unbuckled his pants , pushing them down enough , pulling his cock out. he was huge , definitely bigger than anyone you've ever taken. "i see the gears turning in that head of yours , i know it's big , i want you to take it all." he said. "i can't." he scoffed.

"i don't care , you were all big and bad before , but now you're too scared to take it , come on be a big girl." he grabbed your hair , making it into a makeshift ponytail , guiding his cock to your mouth , slapping his tip on your lips. "open." you obeyed and he immediately pushed your head down on it , guiding you all way down. "shit , that's it , take all of it." you gagged around him , struggling to take him.

"tsk , useless slut , come on take it all." he pushed your head all the way down on him. "that's it , now sit there on your knees and let me fuck your face." he groaned , as he bucked his hips up into your mouth , "fu..fuck your throat feels so good , taking my cock like a good slut." he held your head down on his cock.

"oh yeah , fuck im gonna cum all down your throat." you looked at him through your teary lashes , his head was thrown back as he gripped your hair. "oh fuck!" he pushed your head down , his cum flooding your throat , pushing your head off , coughing , mascara running down your face. "look at you , such a messy whore." he grabbed your arm , pulling you off the floor , basically throwing your body against your bed.

"ass up , now." you complied , fully submitted to him now. "look at you , you were being disrespectful to me , being a brat , now your so ready to be fucked by me." he pushed his pants all the way down. his legs dipped into the bed. "fucking slut." he slapped your ass. "shit mark!" you yelped.

"shut the fuck up , the last thing i need is your mother coming in , and seeing me whore her daughter out." he pulled your panties down , your pussy glistening. "such a messy pussy , this is crazy , i knew it , you just wanted me to fuck you , that's why you were acting like that." he hissed , running his cock up and down your folds. "mark , please." you wiggled your hips against him , he squeezed your ass. "come on slut , beg some more , i know you can do it."

"pl..please fuck me mark , please , i'll be good." you sounded pathetic , it made his cock harder , he slapped your ass one more , pushing his cock all the way inside you , your mouth dropping open. "fuck , such a tight cunt." he pulled out , slamming back into you. "mark." you hid your face in the pillow to cover your moans, as he roughly fucked into you.

"fucking clenching my dick , i thought i couldn't get you to cum , here you are about to cum already." he pushed down on your back , hitting a deeper spot. "i..im gonna cum." you whined , he smirked. "go a head and cum slut , cum for me." he slapped your ass as you came around him , biting the pillow to keep from screaming.

"shit." he cursed pulling out , flipping you over on to your back , lining his cock back up with your sensitive cunt. "ma..mark." you couldn't take him anymore. "oh no baby , im gonna make you cum until your mom calls for dinner." he pushed into you , your hands flying to your mouth , suppressing a scream , your back lifting off the bed as he fucked you.

"fu..fucking cunt is sucking me in , you claim you hate me , but your pussy is telling a different story." he trusted into you over and over , hips slapping against yours , a moan slipped out , he reached over , his hand coming up to throat , squeezing lightly. "i guess this is the only one to shut you up." he hissed , groaning himself , his orgasm inching up on him.

your eyes were rolled to back of your head , makeup ruined by your tears as the boy everyone was so innocent ruined your body. "look at you -shit- all fucked out by the person you claim to hate , gonna let me cum all over you , let the person you hate cum all over your body." you nodded dumbly. "cum first , cum on my cock again slut." you rubbed your clit , your mouth dropped open , but nothing came out as you came on his cock for the second time. "sh..shit , im gonna cum." he pulled out , tugging at his cock a few times , his cum spurting out , landing on your stomach and chest. "fuck."

both of you were breathless , chest heaving up and down , covered in sweat. "still hate me?" you wanted to kick him. "fu..fuck you." he smirked. "your mom hasn't call down yet." he rubbed his cock along your folds , you stopped , pushing at his hips. "i..i can't." you couldn't take another round , he laughed , just as you heard your mothers voice ,from downstairs.

"you're lucky this time, you need to fix yourself , wouldn't want your mom to see you like this." he put his clothes back on. "i'll see you down there princess." he winked , leaving out of your room , making his way downstairs.

"where is she?" your mouth ask as he sat down , he imagined you struggling to get dressed , your legs were probably wobbly and sore. he smiled , turning to your mother with the most innocent smile.

"she said she wanted to change into something more comfortable , she will be down shortly."

©️LUVYENI

#nct dream x reader #nct dream smut #nct dream hard thoughts #nct dream hard hours #nct hard thoughts #nct hard hours #nct fic #nct dream fic #mark lee hard hours #mark lee x reader #mark lee hard thoughts #mark lee smut #mark lee fic

[togrowoldinv]

Five Minutes

Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader

You’re jealous, Wanda is jealous. The end result is one very intense break from the volleyball games

Warnings: Smut! 18+ please! Kissing, cursing, strap on (W receiving), oral (R receiving), mutual jealousy

Note: Uhhh milf Wanda. Enjoy!

Wanda Maximoff Masterlist, Main Masterlist

Wanda is there just as you hoped she would be. You have had your eyes on the woman since the first game that you played against her.

She was relentless with her hits, and you have to admit you were impressed with her volleyball skills.

After the first set, you made sure to make eye contact with her on the net. She blushed and looked away. By the end of the game, you and Wanda had practically decided to meet up with each other without even speaking. You slept together that day.

But the very next week when her teammate bumped into her, Wanda seemed to change. She was smiling at him constantly and always seemed to be laughing about something with him.

Today is no different. Wanda stands with a scorecard in her hands and a goofy grin on her face. You wish she was looking at you like that. Not some man. It’s like she doesn’t even remember you.

The man makes some terrible calls against your team, and you look to Wanda for some help. She only shrugs.

Your team loses to Wanda’s church, and you leave the court with a sigh. You hate losing. And you hate that you don’t have Wanda. You realize that you can possibly fix one of those things.

You walk towards the woman. She is unsuspecting when you tap on her shoulder.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” you get her attention.

“Oh, hello there! Great to see you again,” Wanda answers. So she does remember you.

“Who’s your boyfriend?” You ask her point blank.

“I- I don’t- what?” She stammers.

“You were making eyes at that man all game. Who is he?”  

“Y/n, can we just not do this right here?” Wanda asks.

You look her over from head to toe, smiling at the way her knee pads rest down around her ankles. She looks cute. Maybe that’s another reason you’re so annoyed by her disinterest in you today.

“Fine. Meet me in the choir suite?”

“Give me five minutes,” Wanda replies. She rubs her hand over the back of her neck nervously. She remembers what happened last time in that choir suite.

You walk away and Wanda can’t help herself from watching you go. Her teammate comes up to her and breaks her stare.

While you wait for her in the choir suite, you look at the photos on the walls. Wanda is right there in front smiling as hard as she can.

“You’re late,” you remark when Wanda walks in eight minutes later.

“Duty called,” Wanda says. She shuts the door behind her. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Are you just going to pretend like we didn’t fuck?” You ask her. “Right here in this room.”

“Y/n, please,” Wanda says. “We can’t. I’m married.”

“But you can laugh and grin at that man out there who is not your husband?”

“You’re jealous,” she realizes.

“I’m not.”

“Oh, I think you are,” Wanda says. “It’s cute.”

“Don’t turn this on me, Wanda. You hardly even looked at me tonight.”

Wanda walks closer to you and essentially presses you against the wall. Something in her eyes has changed. Her hands press against the wall on either side of you. Her knee presses in between your legs.

“I thought you said we weren’t doing this,” you say.

“Shut the fuck up and kiss me,” Wanda says. You don’t argue with that.

You let her kiss you until you’re both dizzy. And the way her knee presses against you helps you accomplish that pretty easily. She feels the hardness in your shorts, and she too gets lost in you quickly.

“I wore this for you,” you tell her, reaching into your pants to pull out a strap. “But I don’t see that you’ve earned it.”

“I want it,” Wanda says. “I was only trying to make you jealous.”

“Ah, I see,” you say.

You reach under the waistline of her shorts and pull those along with her panties down to her ankles. Wanda gasps.

“Turn around,” you instruct her.

You slip your hand over first to see how wet she is. Wanda moans when you press your strap up against her, rubbing the tip over her to tease her.

“We only have five minutes before the next match,” Wanda manages to speak. The words are broken up by her moans.

“Then I guess we’ll have to go fast, ma’am.”

You slip the strap into Wanda’s folds. You grasp her waist and move deeper until she can’t take anymore. You start to move in and out slowly and Wanda loses any ability to stand that she had. You hold her up her waist as she takes your strap so well.

“That’s it, Wanda,” you tell her when her legs begin to shake. The moans and whimpers she lets out are angelical.

“Go faster,” Wanda says. “Oh god.” You pick up your pace.

“Fuck Wanda,” you say. “You’re taking me so well.”

“I’m your good girl,” she says.

“My jealous girl,” you correct her. You tighten your grip on her waist.

With a few more movements of your hips, Wanda is coming hard. She breathes out a loud moan.

You kiss the back of Wanda’s neck as she relaxes in your arms.

“That was wonderful,” Wanda says, breathless from your relentlessness.

She regains feelings in her legs and turns around in your arms. She glances at her watch.

“Two minutes,” she says.

“You better get to work then,” you say, pushing her shoulders to kneel in front of you. And she kneels exactly as she does to pray.

She takes the strap off your hips and immediately begins to work her tongue over your folds. The jealousy, teasing, and fucking Wanda from behind has you more than ready for her. She’s quick to take your clit into her mouth and suck so tenderly. It doesn’t take much at all for her to get you off.

Wanda hums in contentment as you come into her mouth. She cleans you up and stands back up. The smile on her face makes your stomach turn.

“One minute to spare,” Wanda says cockily.

She slips her pants back on and kisses you before she turns to leave. She stops at the door.

“Meet me at the motel sometime?” Wanda asks. “I want to see all of you.”

“I’ll call you,” you tell her.

Wanda walks out and you soon follow. When you get back to the gym, no one seems to notice that the two of you have been gone. But this time Wanda is stealing glances and secret smiles with you.

All it took was those five minutes to remind her just who she wanted to be with.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff #milf!wanda #she’s just so #and #volleyball hehe

[maximotts]

♱ 𝖑𝖊𝖘𝖘𝖔𝖓𝖘 𝖎𝖓 𝖍𝖊𝖉𝖔𝖓𝖎𝖘𝖒 ♱

♱ 𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖐𝖙𝖔𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑: priest's daughter!Wanda Maximoff

I missed writing her and since it's been a year since @furys-eyepatch dropped this wonderful idea in my ask box, it felt right to start October off with one of my favorite squishies!

confessions of wanda maximoff AU. kinktober masterlist. 18+ only, minors dni. you don't need to add community labels, I've put adequate warnings below. wc: 3.9k. cw: innocent!Wanda/constantly horny!r. sex in a church. fingering. fucking from behind. strap-on use. begging. semi-public sex (no one is around). everything you shouldn't be doing in a place of worship. r thinks saying vulgar things to wanda and seeing her blush is peak entertainment.

“This is kinda the last place I want to be on Halloween, Wands..”

Wanda looked over her shoulder for the sole purpose of giving you an eye roll before continuing to tug you along through the back of the church. “I’m only picking up something for my dad, it’ll just take a second. I did say you could wait outside!”

“And hang around out there by myself? No way, it’s almost dark and there’s a cemetery!” You’d been sidetracked on the way to Natasha’s party, a texted errand from Wanda’s dad bringing you to his office in search of the large bags of candy he forgot to bring home with him. You didn’t mind honestly, the older man was always so kind it was hard to resist any of his requests— much like his daughter, the girl currently standing in front of you grinning.

She cooed at you in the confines of her father’s office, rubbing your cheeks while you swat at her hands. “Aww, are you afraid of ghosts? How cute..”

“Stop it, Wanda!” You scoffed, brushing her off and crossing your arms. So what if you were a little superstitious, who wasn’t? And you certainly didn’t need to let Wanda know; she’d hold it over you like she’d won the lottery. “Just hurry up so we can get out of here…”

Wanda kissed you quickly, soft and placating; an apology for teasing. She always saw you as someone fearless, it was nice to see a concept as harmless as ghosts rattle you. “Don’t worry, I won’t let anything get us. If it makes you feel better, I’ve never seen anything creepy and Pietro and I used to spend tons of time here when we were kids.” 

Trailing off as she went about searching, you leant back against the wall with a pout, opting to watch Wanda while you waited. She had yet to change into her costume, insisting it be strictly for the party, but part of you theorized it was just to keep her outfit from her dad. Instead, her bunny costume lay folded up in the backseat of your car and her dress remained on, teasing you a little more each time she bent over. 

With the cooler weather, Wanda added tights to her wardrobe rotation, sheer black nylon hugging every curve from her ankles to her hips. You didn’t know what it was, but something about them left you drooling whenever you thought about the extra layer on your girlfriend for too long. In the past few weeks, you found yourself running your hands over her legs whenever she was close enough, often ending up playfully chided when you eventually grew too grabby during your shared lectures. But now, alone together with Wanda bent so far over the large wooden desk that you could catch just the barest hint of her underwear, you found it terribly hard to control your urge to grab her.

Hesitation gave Wanda enough time to shoot upright, victorious with heavy plastic bags in her tight grasp, “Candy acquired!” 

She made her way back over to you by the door, pressing her lips to the corner of your mouth as she passed, “Now let's get out of here before some big bad ghostie bothers you.” 

“I don’t think any ghosts want to be anywhere near us right now…” Try as you might, you couldn’t help yourself, eyes glued to Wanda’s backside as she led you back through the dark corridors behind the sanctuary. These weren’t proper thoughts right now, especially here, but it was Halloween… what better day to do something a little sacreligious.

“And why is that-” The end of her sentence was punctuated with a surprised oof, the shock of being shoved sideways into the wall cutting her short. Strong hands gripped her hips, balling the bottom half of her dress in your fists as you buried your nose into her long, dark hair. Instinct begged her to let the moan caught in her throat loose, but someone had to be level-headed here… or at least try to be. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I could ask you the same question, wearing this dress with no shorts and showing off.” You palmed her ass while she wiggled, sandwiched helplessly between you and the carved wood. Maybe you’d hoped that a simple bit of groping would satisfy whatever just took over, but it’d been wishful thinking; the more you touched, the more you wanted. “Did you know every time you bend over I can see your underwear? It’s not very nice to tease like that.”

“I-I didn’t know…” Wanda’s head was spinning, your sudden turn of mood rendering her flustered. Having never thought of herself in much of a sexual way, today’s lack of shorts was more of convenience rather than to tease. No matter how far she got from being a virgin, the intricacies of attraction and desire remained partially lost to her, always forgetting not only were you insatiable at times, but you wanted her. “I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry!” 

“No need to apologize, Wands, I’m not mad.” The last thing you wanted was to embed shame to how your girlfriend decided to dress; if anything, the uncharacteristic choice made the surprise more enticing. 

She shivered as you nibbled the shell of her ear, trembling more every second your hands continued roaming, exploring, groping her so shamelessly. “But you can make it up to me by letting me touch you.”

“We’re in a church…” Even so, it was just the two of you in the building, a fact confirmed by one quick glance out into the main room through one of the wall’s cutouts. All alone in the quiet, sacred space. Wanda knew she should protest harder, the mere idea should’ve been off putting, but it wasn’t. Nor was it the first time this scenario crossed her mind.

You’d be lying if you said the setting didn’t turn you on that much more and if Wanda’s shudder as you palmed over her covered sex was any indication, she wasn’t completely put off. Curious fingers poked and prodded, pressing against her in earnest until Wanda was gasping. “Why not? No one would know and it’d be fun.” 

You could practically hear the cogs in Wanda’s brain turning, working overdrive to come up with some answer where she could do the ‘right’ thing and keep those all too good sensations flowing from between her legs. “Maybe in the car?”

She’d expected the proposition to sound more convincing than it was, your contemplative hum against the nape of her neck showing Wanda she probably hadn’t swayed you either. Enticing as the car might’ve been in the past, it wasn’t what she yearned for right now. If you led her out, she’d follow and most definitely enjoy herself, but she’d think about this and what it could’ve been until this very rare opportunity presented itself again, if ever.

“Oh, but I want you right here, sweetheart. What if someone drives by and sees you outside? You know I like to keep you all to myself.” Wanda didn’t stop the hand sliding past the top of her stockings, fingers stretching the thin fabric in search of her panties— the second your fingertips grazed the embroidered cotton you groaned. 

Occasionally you caught her wearing the days of the week underwear she’d splurged on from some online boutique shop, something she bought with the mindset that no one would ever see them, but oh how wrong she was. Initially embarrassed for you to catch her wearing them, she was so relieved when you’d written it off as just another precious thing to love about her. 

“How are you always so pretty, babygirl? Makes it so hard to keep my hands off you,” Two inches further down, you discovered the beginnings of a wet spot, Wanda’s body giving her away despite her meekly suggested location change. “Especially when you get wet so easily. It’s my job to take care of that, being a good girlfriend and all.”

“I can’t help it,” she breathed out, trying to keep her breathing even for as long as possible. It was true, Wanda often found her thighs pressed together after a few touches or too long of a kiss; a fact she only recently discovered upon dating you. 

“I know, poor thing, let me fix it.” With your free hand holding the front of her dress, fingers splayed over her stomach, you held your girlfriend still as you moved the last barrier aside, sliding through her already slick folds as shamelessly as you would if you were in the privacy of your apartment back at home, laser focused on watching the girl in your arms go limp. 

The physical embodiment of a devil on her shoulder as you nudged her sweater out of the way, Wanda couldn’t possibly deny either of you further; the longer you waited, the higher the chance that someone else would wander in. Her cheeks burned red hot, unable to tell how much was from being manhandled mere feet behind the altar or the humiliation of how badly she wanted you to continue. “Please…”

“Please what, Wanda? Take you to the car?” Circling her clit almost did her in, knees buckling, hall echoing with the sound of the bags falling from Wanda’s hand to the floor. You let up and she whined pitifully, hips bucking in search for more of the fleeting pleasure. But if you were doing this, you needed your favorite part: her confirmation. “Use your words and I’ll give you whatever you want, baby.”

“Take me, right here…” She was nearly dizzy with need as she spoke, but the struggle was so worth it once your fingers began working her purposely now, promptly rewarding her acceptance. It was all too easy to forget any lingering worries and focus on her rapidly building orgasm, head and hands falling forward to brace herself as you slid two fingers into her. “Oh god, yes-”

You tutted mockingly, grinning into the crook of her sweet-smelling neck. “Now you know that’s not proper language for where we are. Mind your manners.” 

It was terribly hypocritical considering how lewdly you were stretching her open on your digits, letting her drip down your palm. You could pretty much count on her making a mess, but no matter how familiar of a sensation, it was all you could do not to fall to your knees and see for yourself; Wanda was the only person you’d ever felt so inclined to worship. “You feel so good on my fingers, sweet thing. I wish you could feel how tight you’re squeezing them.”

The poor thing did her best to keep up, but you were so fast, so determined to watch her walls come down in the place she should be doing the exact opposite… The most she could do was moan out her pleasure, heavenly music to your ears. “Can I cum? I’m so close-!”

“Go on, I want to feel you.” Wanda finished with a cry, muffled into her arm, still too afraid to be loud no matter how alone you might be. She shivered and shook, thighs trapping your hand in place as she rode out her orgasm. Even from behind Wanda was a sight, long hair falling over her shoulders as she tossed, hands clamoring for purchase anywhere on the wall she’d never look at the same way again. 

Satisfied with your work, thought she’d be done and more than ready to get out of here, but to your surprise, her hand grabbed your wrist before you could pull out. “What’s wrong, Wanda?”

“Nothing, it’s just..” Wanda couldn’t believe what she was about to say, but it’d be a terrible missed opportunity if she didn’t ask. Rubbing her backside against your front confirmed what she’d felt for a few seconds before, the telltale bulge in your pants providing Wanda the perfect setup to make one of her deepest fantasies a reality. She’d gone this far; what was a little more for the whole way. That’s what she kept repeating to validate this next want. “Do you think we could maybe, um..”

“Maybe what?” Her actions only gave you an inkling into what Wanda was hinting at, but surely she couldn’t be thinking what you thought she was. 

When it came to risky scenarios, you were constantly on the propositioning end, finding creative ways to present your new ideas for Wanda’s approval. What you’d just gotten away with was a giant push of luck, never in your wildest dreams did you ever imagine she’d ask for it. “The rules are you use your words. You have to say it.”

Of course you wouldn’t let her off easy, not when both of you were on the precipice of doing something so scandalous. She appreciated how dedicated you were to her enthusiastic consent, but if she thought about what she was asking too hard, she feared she might fizzle into nothingness. “I was thinking if you were up for it, we might go again?”

“Yeah? With my fingers?” You goaded her with a slow curl of your long digits, guiding her back until you could easily grind your clothed strap on against her, the sharpest squeak bubbling from Wanda’s chest. As you moved this time, you were slow, too slow, knowing as nice as it was, it wasn’t what she needed. Not when she remembered how mouthwateringly full she was a few days ago when you’d last had her in your lap.

“N-No,” Wanda shook her head, mousy and bashful. Her one advantage was facing away from you, fully aware she’d never have the courage to speak up that way unless you forced it out of her. “I meant with your strap…”

The words felt heavy on her tongue, as if someone else said them; anyone but the person she knew herself to be. But you heard them in her sweet, sheepish voice and something feral inside you snapped. You tore away from her unceremoniously, only for a second, just long enough to bend her a little farther, slapping Wanda’s ass once. 

“Fuck, I wish I could keep you here all night, just to see what else I can get a naughty girl like you to tell me what they’ve been dreaming up.” Ignoring her shout, you ripped a hole in her stockings, tearing wide enough that you could play with her from behind, shallowly dipping your fingertips into the hole you’d so cruelly left empty. 

“You’re all I want,” Neck straining over her shoulder to catch glimpses of you undoing your pants, Wanda’s eyes grew wide at the sight of the thick dildo set on your hips, only fluttering closed as you nestled the toy between her thighs, sliding it back and forth in an effort to wet it for Wanda’s comfort. Eager as you were, this one was bigger than she’d taken before and you’d never forgive yourself if you caused her any pain. “Hurry up before someone comes in..”

“Look at you, so impatient,” The tip teased Wanda awfully, drawing low moaned out pleas that were much too pretty to deprive yourself of so quickly. It wasn’t long until her wetness coated your strap, slick and ready for her as soon as you were ready to deliver. “Does my sweet girl want me to fill her up with my cock? Would that make you happy?”

“Mhm..so happy..” Something about being fucked left Wanda’s brain so.. empty, always coaxing her into a blissful relaxation. She supposed it had something to do with not only touch, but your words, sneakily dumbing her down until her only thoughts rested on you and when you’d give her what she waited for. 

Being taken in church was an idea she only allowed to appear in her deepest dreams, shaming herself afterwards for even daring to create such a thought. If anyone was going to give it to her now, it had to be you and to her credit, you’d started this. But logistics were way too much for Wanda to think about presently and, in a mission to make this impromptu sex as good for her as it already was for you, clearing her of any fears was your highest priority. “All I want to do is make you happy, Wanda.”

She knew that was true from the very first time you’d told her, those words only ever given with the most sincere honesty. Combined with the gentle patterns you drew over the sensitive skin of her lower tummy, Wanda let herself be lulled, trusting you to take care of her in the vulnerable state she so loved to fall into. 

“Spread your legs for me a little, just like that…” Everyone would be wondering where you were soon, Wanda’s father waiting on his Halloween candy delivery and Natasha for the drinks she asked you to get, but for this, for her? You’d say screw it all without hesitation to take your time and make this happen however she pictured. “Now beg. Confess to me, little church mouse.”

As you pushed the tip in and stopped, Wanda erupted into a fit of pitiful noises, fighting against your hold to feel that ever lusted after stretch, but you were stronger than her and wouldn’t budge. Being made to beg was equal parts hot and degrading; unfortunately you’d come to love to hear it, discovered it turned her on to do it, and now demanded it whenever the chance presented itself. “I need your cock, need you to fuck me.. please please!”

“There’s my good girl,” With one long push, you filled her completely, overwhelming the needy girl in all the best ways. You gave her just enough time to adjust, rutting into her tight pussy hard and fast as soon as possible. If she was wet before, Wanda was absolutely drenched now, making it all too easy to fuck into her as deep as you dared. “You look so pretty all fucked out, Wanda, begging to be fucked just outside of your dad’s office.. in a church, no less..”

“I.. I didn’t…” She truly hadn’t meant for any of this to happen, but she certainly hadn’t objected too heavily either, especially not to this. Each time your hips met Wanda thought she was done for, that coil in the pit of her stomach tighter than she could ever remember it being. Her entire body felt like a livewire, every touch you provided almost stinging. As soon as you found her neglected clit, Wanda was panting, chest heaving in the small, restricted space between her and the wall. 

She devolved into an incoherent mess, pathetic and helpless noises echoing throughout the otherwise silent halls. In a selfish act, you covered Wanda’s mouth, cementing the impossible to ignore wet sounds coming from your girlfriend to memory. “Do you hear how wet you are for me, baby? I would’ve fucked you earlier if I knew you needed me this much.”

Your teasing was too much for Wanda to bear; your crude words, being forced to listen to how aroused she was. Part of her still chalked this up to some insanely vivid dream. The moment your fingertips slid past her lips Wanda was sucking on them, albeit sloppy and lazily, reflecting how little focus she had as your strap hit her at the perfect angle. She was losing it fast, muscles threatening to give out the closer her second orgasm came. “P-Please, can I-”

“Of course you can. Poor thing, you just need to cum so badly,” Wanda’s pulse raced under your lips, but you kissed her there so sweetly it nearly felt like a joke. Below, your hips moved at a torturous pace, quick and brutal in time with the circles you rubbed into her almost too sensitive bud. If you could just see her come apart one more time- “Cum for me, I’ve got you.”

Wanda’s jaw fell open, spit covered fingers giving her slight reprieve while she bucked and twisted wildly, only managing to stay upright with the help of your strong arms. Fucking her through it all quickly became more for your pleasure, bottoming out to let you grind your own clit against the back of the toy at the join of your hips, clinging to Wanda’s trembling form as you came with a groan into the back of her hair. “I would’ve helped…”

“Trust me, you did more than enough,” you mumbled, nibbling the shell of her ear as you caught your breath. You’d never given much thought to the joys of a joint orgasm until Wanda, finding something special in sharing your highs. Always one to prove how useful she could be, Wanda loved being allowed to touch you, to see how good she could make you feel before you reached your end, but this time she was in no state to do so nor did you need it; watching her was more than you would’ve ever asked for. “You did such a good job, I’m so proud of you.”

Wanda wanted to say something back, couldn’t remember if she’d actually spoken out loud or not, but also couldn’t focus hard enough to think that deeply at the moment. She felt like she spent an eternity there, swimming in some cloud high above the church while your touches turned gentle, stroking over her hips and stomach until Wanda finally started to settle down. 

Thankfully the church remained empty so you let her take her time, holding Wanda steady while you pulled out. Careful as you were, she still whimpered, body worn out and tired, “Shh, you’re okay, pretty girl.”

Turning around let Wanda slump against your front as you leaned into the wall, green eyes hazy and heavy. She drew you into an almost sleepy set of kisses, thanking you with sticky, lip gloss smudge marks along your jaw… until she remembered exactly where she was. “Oh my god, I can’t believe we just did that.. We have to get out of here now!” 

Fumbling terribly, your girlfriend snatched the fallen candy bags from the floor in one hand and your arm in the other, dragging you as fast as her strength would let her. “Be careful, Wanda, or you’ll trip!” 

“I’m fine, just open the car!” She didn’t know if she should be mortified or terrified, praying to every power in the universe no one ever found out about this. Wanda’d never sped out of church in such a flurry, as if the quicker she moved, the longer she could escape the anxiety gaining on her. 

Unfortunately for her, you had no such issues and her inner turmoil only made you laugh. “Don’t forget you liked it. I’m pretty sure you were the one begging loudest-”

“You made me!” To you, Wanda would deny her enjoyment for a while and she’d never think of doing it again, but as silence settled in the car and you turned your attention to the road, she struggled to keep still and not squirm too obviously as she replayed your Halloween havoc.

#if you saw this a few minutes ago no you didn't #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x f!reader #wanda maximoff smut #kinktober fics #maximotts kinktober #motts writes.

[apomaro-mellow]

I wanted to write church fucking again but it turned more into church love-making

Steve was long past caring if anyone heard them. The only thing on his mind was taking Eddie deeper and deeper. This place was built with Eddie's money anyway. And it wasn't really a building to practice any religion known to man. As Eddie had put it, the first and only thing being worshipped here was them and their love.

And to Steve there was honestly nothing more sacred.

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

"Do we really need to do the separation thing?", Eddie asked. He didn't whine. He definitely wasn't whining as Steve packed his bag.

"We're only doing like 5 traditional things for our wedding and this is one of them", Steve said, zipping up a duffel bag.

He gave Eddie a kiss on the lips, one that was too short considering he wouldn't even be seeing him for another twenty-four hours, let alone kiss him again. He chased after Steve's lips only to have his beloved pull back.

"You're going to make me late. Robin's already honked once", Steve said.

"Mmm, she can come up and rip you from my arms if she wants you so bad", Eddie said, pulling Steve into his hold and falling back against the bed.

"You know she will. And she'll have the spray bottle and everything", Steve warned, but doing nothing to stop Eddie from groping his behind.

Steve was able to break away before Robin got pushed to that point and leave to stay at her place until the wedding. Eddie let out a sigh that was equal parts dreamy and forlorn. He did his best to keep his mind off of not being around Steve and his friends had the ultimate bachelor party planned. But he couldn't help but think at times how much nicer it would be with his Stevie there.

"Technically we're both bachelors, so we could've had the same party", Eddie reasoned.

The others wouldn't hear it and kept him sufficiently busy until they all passed out around 3 am. At 5 am, Eddie woke up walked over to the church. He took out his key and unlocked the door. Inside was completely empty. But Eddie had saw to the renovations himself to make sure it was up to par.

He sat in the first pew and let out a sigh. In just a few hours, he and Steve would be standing in front of this altar, vowing themselves to each other. Eddie would have done it anywhere, the courthouse, a friend's backyard, their sacred bedroom. But Steve's upbringing wouldn't allow him anything less than a church. Thankfully, Eddie had enough 'fuck-you' money to find an abandoned one and have it built back up just for the two of them. And perhaps any other queer that wanted an unofficial ceremony.

Eddie himself rarely looked to Jesus for answers and was just about to ask what he was even doing here when the doors opened again. And who should walk through it but the answers to any question he ever had.

"Eddie? What are you doing here?"

"Awaiting salvation. And here you are", Eddie smiled. "What are you doing here?"

"Searching for...well, for you, I guess", Steve said as he walked down the aisle and took a seat in the same pew as Eddie. But at a distance for polite friends and not two men who were getting married in a few hours and already knew each others bodies.

"Why are you all the way over there?", Eddie smirked. "You think we need a chaperone or something."

"I came to get a moment of peace and quiet before the storm today is going to be", Steve said. "And you are anything but peaceful and quiet."

"You just said you were searching for me?"

"I meant that sometimes searching for one thing can bring you another." Steve smiled as he shook his head a little, a memory coming back to him. "My mom always said 'when you ask God for patience, he doesn't give you patience. He gives you a situation where you need to be patient'."

"You sure your mom wasn't praying to a genie? Or a monkey's paw?"

"I'm just saying that I came to a church for peace and instead, I see my fiance."

Eddie scooted closer to Steve. "Sounds to me like His Mighty Heavenliness is throwing down a challenge. Can you be quiet around me Steve?"

Steve knew he couldn't. And Eddie knew he couldn't. Nor would his fiance's big ego even allow Steve to even attempt to be quiet. Eddie wouldn't stop until this place was filled with his echoes. But he held steady.

"There's not even a comfortable place to do it", he said.

To which, Eddie jumped up and went over to the altar, normally it would have a cloth draped over it, but when Eddie pressed down, there was a bit of give, like it was cushioned. Steve didn't even have the presence of mind to ask why because Eddie was already palming himself through his pants, beckoning Steve over with a finger.

Let it be known that marriage didn't stop Steve from being a slut. It was just reserved for his groom-to-be.

So he loved on Eddie and let Eddie love on him, in an embrace that felt more rapturous than any praise he'd given in a church. This was what ecstasy was. Steve knew deep in his soul that he was born for this, to share this with Eddie.

Hours later, dressed to the nines and promising themselves to each other in front of an audience, Steve couldn't stop thinking about his body draped over the altar. Eddie had said more than once that he worshipped Steve's body but the same was true for him. When Eddie slipped the ring onto his finger and kissed him, Steve felt like he was being smiled on by Heaven.

A man like this loving and promising eternity, how could be anything less than a blessing?

#apo writes #stranger things #steddie #believe it or not #this started out as just smut like the last time #but then it turned sweet

[fategoflatass]

I used to be so against the slow burn trope. Not because I thought it was shit; it's just, I usually don't have the patience to wait whatever-amount-superior-to-three damn chapters for my dear ship to finally be able to look at each other without blushing and/or hold hands. Thus why you often times see me reading oneshots or fics with the "Established Relationship" tag on them.

So you can imagine just how surprised—or maybe not, maybe I just didn't think enough about it—I was when I realized my newest fixation's main pairing is—canonically—the embodiment of slow burn. Because holy shit they're taking their time.

Nothing against how Kusuriya develops its love story—quite the opposite, actually. The relationship between Jinshi and Maomao, two characters that are written as beautifully as their romance, is a rather realistic approach as to how the same or a similar dynamic would developed in real life. In such a complicated situation, with such complex feelings about emotions—both external and their own—and attachment, makes sense that it takes so long for the relationship to finally sail.

The problem is, I didn't know I was signing with the Devil the moment I decided to pick up the light novel. Ten volumes and nothing has happened. Nothing.

And you can say that technically things have happened, because they have. I mean, Jinshi is just so desperate for Maomao to give him the time of day, you know what I mean? And even that isn't enough anymore and thus he has committed some of the craziest shit I've seen in any romance. Which okay, I don't usually read these type of romances but still.

What I mean by "nothing" is just, their relationship hasn't changed status. I could also say that it seems to go nowhere, but that'd be lying. Since, you know, it has changed quite a lot—just not in the way my impatient ass wanted it to. Because he can be as honest with his feelings as he pleases, and those around them might be heavely conscious of the tension and thus constantly tease those lovebirds (as they should), but babygirl's not helping, you know?

And I get it, Maomao's not the best at expressing and understanding herself, and she's also way too busy worrying about going as unnoticed as possible (she should give up on that one already, tbh) while keeping her head where it should be. But like, I can't help feeling frustrated over it like ‼‼

GIRL, FUCK THE RULES. TAKE THAT PATHETIC EXCUSE OF A MAN AND RUNAWAY SOMEWHERE NO ONE WILL BE ABLE TO IDENTIFY YOU. YOU THEN CARRY THAT BITCH BRIDESTYLE TO THE CLOSEST CHURCH AND MAKE HIM YOUR WIFE. PROCEED TO FROG AROUND, EXPERIMENT WITH YOUR UTERUS AS MUCH AS YOU'D LIKE, AND THEN TEACH THE PRODUCTS OF YOUR PRACTICES AS YOUR OWN GUINEA PIG THE WAYS OF HERBAL MEDICINE. AS EASY AS THAT.

But she won't. She'll take her sweet ass time being in denial about both Jinshi's and her own feelings, then maybe she'll proceed to analize herself and find out that maybe, just maybe, that affection that she'd been feeling for that loser became something else. Did said affection also become something more complicated? Absolutely. Does she know how to deal with it? Hell no, but fuck it. If I learned something from school is that you always leave the hardest parts for later.

Now you see why I was so against reading slow burn?

And you wanna know the worst part? I loved it—I loved every second of it, every word, every page. Every scene that seemed to help the relationship advance, only for Maomao to say nope and leave like she owns the place, which at this point she fucking might.

It feels like I, as the reader, am in the middle of a heatwave and some sadistic bastard won't stop teasing me with ice cream—they put it in front of my face, close enough that I can smell the cold. Then take a spoon and eat little by little while staring directly to my eyes. At times they seem to show mercy and feed me a spoon, only for it to be a rather small quantity of serving—serving that tastes so damn good at first, only for it to have such a bitter aftertaste. But if I gotta have something in common with Jinshi is that I'll never be able to beat the masochist allegations, so I'll wait patiently for the next spoon and its corresponding and seemingly enless teasing from that faceless being.

So yeah, I'm still against it, only that now I understand the appeal—even if I have yet to find out about the whereabouts of my sanity while still mananing with the little I've left.

#kusuriya no hitorigoto #the apothecary diaries #jinmao #mai.txt #long post #rant #? #did i just write a rant about a realisticly slow burning romance? yes #please understand i've no one to complain to about them #so i better let go these feelings before i explode and throw my pc out of the window or something #i tried being as spoiler free as possible but please tell me if i should change anything about... whatever this is

[1-800-local-slut]

Back and Forth

Franklin Saint x Black! Fem! ex-gf! Reader

Franklin is that toxic ex that won't leave you alone, you're no better. Franklin and the reader are on again off again but for some reason they just don't work every time.

This is for all the girlies who bounce on business, I would fold for Franklin instantly. This man could be my favorite evil ex, idc. Stand on business tho y'all, Franklin is my favorite fictional liar but best believe I stand ten toes down.

Warnings: allusions to smut, drinking, drug dealing, typical Snowfall violence, season 3 Franklin, smoking weed (stay off that booga suga y'all), mentions of death, toxic relationship, Franklin is also pretty possessive, both of y'all are really jealous, reader is described as a crazy bitch, reader was caught in a drive by in the past, mentioned kidnapping

Request are open <3

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A cloud of smoke streamed from my parted lips, the smell of weed blanketing the car. Tasha and Latisha both scoffed at me after my last statement, their disappointment in me as thick as the smoke filling the car.

"You know he's gonna be right back in yo draws come tomorrow after church, stop playing." My eyes rolled before I could stop them. My brain felt fuzzy and the world seemed peaceful in the dead of night. Passing the blunt to Latisha, she took a deep inhale and held her breath.

'Between the Sheets' blared from the cars radio, adding comfort to my addled brain. Comfort and a slight hint of anger. This was one of our songs, that played while we were under the blanket in his back seat.

The car steamed up that night, similar to the smoke filling the car right now. I had an irrational fear that night that we would shake the car so much that it would roll off the hill we were parked on.

That was before he fucked it all up again.

Latisha was wrong. I was done with his bitch ass this time. This time, I was done playing with him, all his bullshit, his hypnotic eyes, the mountain of lies.

"Girl it's okay, no one blames you for giving into Franklin. Brother's fine." Tasha stuck her tongue out teasingly, which prompted a laugh from me.

Perched on the edge of the back seat with Latisha and Tasha sitting in front, I pulled my sweatshirt over my legs and pressed my head against the window. Latisha gave her a playful smack.

"Oh girl watch out before she do you like how she did Ki and them. Remember how she kicked through that bitch screen door?" Latisha laughed and Tasha cackled. I still remembered how hot it was last summer, when I put my foot through Kira's screen door and ran in swinging. Bitch shoulda closed her front door too but her broke ass couldn't afford air conditioning.

Sure, Franklin and I were technically broken up at the time but what does that matter? Especially after Leon rolled up on Delroy, my 'special friend', and Delroy told me to get to stepping the next time I saw his ass. I know Franklin told Leon to do it too. I don't think I gave Leon any reason to purposely make my life harder.

"Hey now that bitch deserved the ass whopping she got, she could fuck with that nigga all she wanted but how you gonna talk shit about me knowing you can't fight? Let's be serious y'all." It was funny, how she swore that Franklin wanted her over me. After I put my foot through Kira's door and caught her by her tracks, Franklin was at my bedroom window that night.

He was in my desk chair ten minutes later, handing me a box of chocolates that he knew were my favorites. Then he was in my bed giving me some deep, slow strokes that should be illegal. Looking deep into my eyes, pressing soft kisses down my neck and whispering apologies in my ear. Promising me that things would be better this time, that he would be better this time.

He hadn't even looked at her ass since.

Maybe he was over there right now. It had been six hours since he told me it was over, that he couldn't deal with my 'controlling self' and I told him to go ahead and kiss my ass.

Controlling, like he didn't have Peaches following me around all day because he had the slightest suspicion that I might've been considering cheating on him. He wouldn't have that problem if he wasn't ducking me out of nowhere and then when I pressed him he thought it was cute to lash out on me and tell me to get the fuck on.

"Look at her ass. Dick has her stuck." Latisha snickered and I snapped my head towards her. A lazy smile spread across my lips. The smoke stung my red eyes, it was a beautiful summer night and I was planning on getting so high I could shake hands with God, I was with my friends just having a great time. Fuck Franklin, fuck everything.

"If you don't leave me alone." I giggled and stretched back. I could feel it now, and wanted nothing more then to enjoy the feel of the seats under my skin.

It was like I was sinking into a wave of comfort and sleep. And before I knew it, I was floating through my dreams.

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"So y'all are over?" Franklin's eyes were burning into the house phone, his eyes willing it to ring. His long arms stretched over the back of the couch, head facing away from the TV the minute something interesting stopped happening. Leon, as always, had doubts, but as long as he stood ten toes behind Franklin, he didn't really care.

The moonlight casted in on Franklin, his eyes lit by the moon and the TV. Jerome and Louie were cuddled on the couch, while Burst City played from the TV.

"Yeah. She was all over me, I couldn't take it." Finally he turned his head back to the TV and stopped trying to force the phone to ring. A loud noise from the movie, amplifies by Jerome's speakers

"You the only nigga I know who'd be mad about a bitch that fine being all over him." With a chuckle, Leon took a drag of his cigarette. Jerome chuckled and Louie rolled her eyes before she smiled. The way she always smiled when she was with Jerome. The way Franklin's girl ex-girl used to grin uncontrollably when she was snuggled into his side.

"Shit, you fuck with her then." Franklin grumbled bitterly, taking an annoyed sip from his coke. He hated knowing that others could see how fine she was. If it were up to him, she'd wear a potato sack and stay in the house. He'd stay in the house with her too, the two of them together forever. But that just wasn't how things worked.

Why the fuck were they talking about her anyways? Franklin broke up with her, Franklin told her to get lost, Franklin was telling himself that it was over this time. Not just for his sake, but for hers.

Would you believe that she brought out the worst in him? Not his fucked up job, not his dad abandoning him and coming back now that he's grown, no. His ex-girlfriend.

She made him jealous, possessive, down right nasty. Nasty in a way that was different from when he would be pushing into her and could feel her nails dragging down from the nape of his neck. Nasty in a way that was just mean.

Yes, they had their highs. When they were the happiest people on Earth, but when they had their lows they were so low that it might have been in Hell.

"Aye man, I ain't mean that. All I'm saying is you two do this every week." The tension now palpable while they all sat in silence.

That wasn't even true. It wasn't every week, more like every three weeks! Usually Franklin fucked things up, usually by getting annoyed at something (work, her, they hadn't been having sex, he was arguing with his mom or Jerome or Louie or Leon, someone hit on her, she wore something sexy and he knew other niggas would like it just as much, he was hangry) and taking it out on her.

But not this time! This time, they had she started the argument when he came by her house late and she asked him where he'd been. When she came at him with the evidence that he let a stripper toss her ass in his face (which he put a stop to quickly) and refused to tell him who told her, then he got mad. Then she was like 'okay but why did you lie' and obviously he couldn't tell her he went to the club for business purposes because then she'd demand to know why it needed to be a strip club.

According to her, it was just about him lying to her. Which made sense or whatever. He even tried explaining she was the only girl for him and that he only wanted her ass in his face. He even tried cupping her chin and making her look him in the eyes, which usually made her weak in the knees. Franklin just wanted to come over, fuck, have a meal and spend some time with his girl but of course he can't just get what he wants.

So naturally Franklin felt caged and decided to tell her it was over.

"Whatever man, I said it's done."

"Alright then, damn." Easing back into the silence, they both sat and watched the TV. Franklin more so stared, his brain focusing instead her.

Inside he felt shaky, weird. Kinda like how he imagined the addicts he sold too felt without his rock.

She got jealous, but it was kinda sexy how mad she got. How crazy she was over him. Mostly she was only mad because he lied. He could go without lying. He never met to hurt her, just avoid the stress of her knowing he was around strippers and having to answer all her questions. But if he told her earlier that he was going and explained to her that it was for work then he could've avoided all of that all together.

Whatever, it was done now.

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"WHOSE AT MY GOD DAMN DOOR?!" It was 7:00 PM, Saturday night and there was a jumping party that needed me on the dance floor. Yet as I slipped in my earrings, my shorts rubbing against my thighs, someone was repeatedly knocking at my front door. Rather loud too.

As I stormed through my apartment the banging got louder. My apartment was filled with warm colors and the radio I picked up from Jerome's ages ago was humming 'Turn Off The Lights' and it put me in the mood to maybe someone over tonight. Fuck someone who wasn't Franklin.

More banging at the door, it wasn't Latisha or Tasha, they'd just use their keys. A sense of dread hit me suddenly like a car hitting a pedestrian. Being Franklin Saint's girlfriend had put me in two drive byes and one almost kidnapping and now there was someone beating down my door.

My hands found the knife I'd used earlier to rip open a package I'd gotten earlier, small remnants of the cut up box scattered on my carpet right under the coffee table in front of my couch.

Slowly I stepped to the door with my heart thudding around in my chest and the music fading away around me and now I just had to open the door. The knocking continued and suddenly my thoughts cut off by my foot thudding into a box.

A box full of shit. A box filled with Franklin's shit that I intended to drive by his place and fling out the window before never seeing him again. The sweatshirt I stole from him last winter, some cash he left here, changes of clothes, some socks, a bracelet he got me and a bunch of other jewelry wrapped carefully to avoid damage, plus some framed pictures of us. I could only hope he took the same care with my stuff.

The way the box smelt of him made me want to just run back to his arms. It was weird, being without him. But I knew it was for the better, my refusal to go back to him unwavering. As long as I stayed far from him.

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Well damn.

There he was standing in her door way towering over her small form. A bunch of flowers, foxgloves and oleander (my favorites he knew that), held in his hand in contrast to her knife which she now knew she could never bring herself to use on him.

He smelt so good that she had to fight the urge to jump in his arms.

Girl don't do it, send him on his way, her brain told her but her heart, like always, wanted to ditch the party and just spend the night laid up with him. Without any of the bullshit, the way things used to be when they could just be happy together.

Her legs on the other hand wanted to split open on their own. His eyes had that effect on her. He could just control her body with a look. What even was it about this nigga, was she that vulnerable to seduction?

Was it his smell? The rich cologne he bought with his new earnings with the slight smell of cigarettes and the night air. Plus the smell of his mommas house. Maybe.

Was it his strong jaw, the dark eyes that tore right through me like the sky being torn open by a gust of wind.

Fuck how the nigga smells, tell him to go. Do NOT let yourself get hypnotized

"You gon let me inside or keep pointing that at me?" That smirk crossed his lips. Damn. I wondered if I had this affect on him? Did I make him weak? Did he miss the sex so bad he was pathetically trying to get himself off every night thinking of that thing I do with my tongue that he likes? Was he damn near humping his mattress without even realizing it? No matter if he was, as sexy as it was to imagine Franklin touching himself to me. He had to go.

With a kiss of my teeth, I extended my arm to block the door way. This nigga could not pass.

"What you want nigga?"

"You."

"You came here to tell jokes? Take your shit and get the fuck on, I got somewhere to be?" A deep chuckle was his response. He had the nerve to laugh, teeth and all?

You can do this, you can do this, tell him to get to stepping

"Yeah I see you going outside looking real good. I just wanted to talk, see if we could get some closure. I promise I'm not gon take all night." He stepped closer, knowing my body would drive me back. Instead I dug myself into the ground, I stepped back then he'd be in my house.

I had to scan him up and down, find some way to even the playing field. Or make him think his seduction skills weren't working but damn they were working.

Remember how he acted, remember the lies, you wanted out

He smiled and looked like the guy I grew up with. The nice mammas boy who would never try to hurt anyone. I knew better, but he looked so...non threatening.

He was standing there, all washed up wearing a black jacket that he knew I loved him in. He held the flowers up in his right hand and knowing that he probably had a gun on him turned me on some how. The danger of being with Franklin always turned me on. Watching him get aggressive with others and knowing in a few hours he'd be taking it out on me.

The music I had playing wasn't helping me not get weak.

I don't know when he got so close that his chest was pressed to mine. He could hear my breathing and probably my heart beat.

Fuck his closure, send him packing

"Take your shit and go." It slipped out as a whisper, a breathless sound.

His face was right in front of mine and I couldn't do anything to stop myself. I should push him out my way and get to that party. Go find some other nigga who couldn't be as fine as Franklin but he would do for now.

"I'm sorry." He whispered against my lips. I could feel basically every part of him.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry for getting mad. Baby, please. Take me back. I'll do better. I'll stop lying to you. I'm sorry." He was inside now. Pushed through the door, his body against mine and my head spinning.

"What do I have to do to make it up to you baby?"

"I don't believe you. You always do this, you know your not going to change." I whimpered, my eyes shutting. My brain was fogging, an effect Franklin always had on me. But I would be stronger than this. I had too.

"I swear I will." He planted a soft kiss on my neck and I jumped. He was so warm. He tossed the flowers on to the little table I usually throw my keys on when I come in. Both hands ran up and down my arms.

"I promise I'll change. You don't have to pretend you don't want to come back baby, I'll do better this time. Just let me treat you right tonight, I'll start changing right now." More kisses undid me. I needed to tell him off. But the funny thing was, whenever Franklin and I broke up it was like I could only remember the best parts of him.

Not the lashing out, the screaming, the controlling, the random lies, the secrets. Only the gentle moments, where he held my face and gave me soft kisses that chipped away at me. The gifts that would adorn me when we went out, the way he proudly showed me off, the shopping sprees and little weekend trips, even the normal nights we would just sit around with our friends.

Sitting on his lap where I belonged, on whoevers porch as we just talked (and disturbed the peace of the neighborhood) and passed a blunt around and drank. He always made sure I got home safe afterward, my designated driver.

It was weird. Maybe it was feeling him kissing down my neck and him gently caressing me, but the good memories were just rushing to me. Like water smashing into a wall, slowly chipping away from it.

"I'm sorry I got mad at you. I'm sorry for lying, I just didn't want you to worry. I understand that I hurt you by lashing out and I'm gonna work on that. And you know I'm not perfect, just like you not and we both gon have to work on that. But I want to work on us, and I'm going too do whatever it takes. I'm building an empire and I want you to be right there with me when we make it to the top. It wouldn't be right without you." He was staring into my eyes, staring into my soul and heart and making his way back into both.

"Just one more chance. I promise this time I'll be better." I was never gonna hear the end of it this time. Another kiss, another piece of my self control.

"And if I'm not, I'll never bother you again. You have my word." It wasn't like he was all bad all the time. Standing trapped right next to my doorway, the city howling outside I felt the chill of the Summer night air blowing in from my open living room window. Somehow I was able to find it in me to push him off of me, stepping away into the living room putting more distance between us.

"I'm sick of going back and forth with you Franklin. It's constant with you, you lie for no reason and expect me to just forgive you. Why can't you just be straight with me?" He glanced at his feet, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. He looked guilty but I knew no matter how beaten up he looked I knew the next thing out of his mouth would probably be a lie.

"When my dad started coming back around, I couldn't tell my mom the truth. That I was the one who bailed him out that time. And I have to hide shit from people all the time, because I feel like I know better than they do and how news will effect them." He sighed, coming in and placing the flowers on the little side table next to my door. He ran a hand down his face, and I took another cautionary step back.

"You can't decide for me how things will make me feel. It isn't fair. You demand I tell you everything but it just isn't fair." That's bullshit! Yeah, Franklin had it tough growing up. His dad ran out and what not, but that has nothing to do with me!

He stepped closer in two large steps and took my hands in his. He ran his thumbs over my hands and I found myself admiring how big and perfect his hands were holding mine. Franklin really was beautiful and our everything just went together with pure perfection. If only he stopped keeping things from me. My eyes met his and he looked so..sad.

Sympathy overcame me even though I knew his ass didn't deserve it.

"I know. I know and I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't be better for you. But I'm gonna try and do better this time. Imma give you everything you deserve this time. No more back and forth." Crouching, his forehead touched mine and I saw his eyes closed. He always did this, it was like a hug for him. I closed my eyes too.

"You promise?" It came out a soft whisper, and I could feel relief washing over him in waves.

"Promise."

#black reader #x reader #x black reader #fem reader #franklin saint #snowfall #franklin saint x reader #franklin saint fanfic #multifandom account #pls send requests #my man <3 #toxic relationship #leon simmons

[syd-djarin]

Sugar, Spice & Please Fuck Me Nice (neighbor!joel AU)

chapter two: sex and candy

*18+ minors DNI*

tags: mentions of anxiety, religious shame/guilt, reader being insecure, mentions of (negative) past sexual experiences and partners, brief mention of alcohol consumption, v fingering, oral (f receiving) joel is a cunnilinguist, 2000’s nostalgia, mentions of the patriarchy (booooo)  squirting (sue me),  Joel-Land™️™️™️

reader has hair that she fidgets with, "grows warm" /"cheeks burning" but not necessarily blushing, with embarrassment - minor edits to make this more inclusive for my readers <3

word count: ~4.5k

Author/s notes: Sorry it took longer to get ch. 2 out than I anticipated. I've had a lot going on in my personal life (I got a new job!) But I promise it won't be as long for ch. 3 hehe. this is a lengthy chapter, hope y'all enjoy!!

had to name reader's bestie after my dear friend @katiexpunk <3 thanks for always letting me run ideas by you and being a peach in general.

and thank you to @softiedingo for being a beta reader as well <333

It has been two weeks since you introduced yourself to Joel and Sarah. You hate to admit it, but you haven’t been able to stop thinking about Joel. Your mind will stay preoccupied temporarily, then they circle back to him. 

Throwing clothes in the washer? Joel. 

Boiling water for pasta? Joel. 

Doing the dishes? Joel. 

In the shower? Yep, definitely Joel. 

And this morning is no different. 

You’re staring at yourself in your bathroom mirror, brushing your teeth, mind deep into Joel-Land, then your thoughts take a sharp turn - for the worst. You’re thinking about all of your past sexual encounters. 

How unsatisfying and selfish your past partners were. You hadn’t been romantically involved with any of your past partners, all of them casual-no-strings-attached type of arrangements. 

Even if the sex was casual, did that mean the pleasure had to be one-sided? Of course not. 

However, after each encounter you found yourself feeling disappointed, and truthfully, it made you feel…..icky. Was it religious shame? Even though you don’t participate or believe in any religion anymore, your formative years were spent in a conservative, Christian church; where sex is bad, and sin is bad. And you don’t want to be bad, because you will go to hell. You don’t even believe in hell, yet, there is a small voice in your head that still worries about eternal damnation. Jeez, I should really see a therapist about that.  

 Perhaps it’s the misogyny and sexism, rampant and hard-wired into society and into mind’s since the beginning of time. 

Your internal theological and philosophical debate gives you a throbbing headache. 

+++

It’s Friday. Halloween falls on a Tuesday this year, so most Halloween celebrations would occur this weekend. 

If you were still in college, you’d most likely attend a costume party at a frat party and drink until the sun came up. These days, you don’t recover from hangovers as easily and find the anxiety spiral that follows a night of drinking to be too debilitating so you’re planning on keeping it chill this year. 

You’re pouring out a bag of candy into a bowl, so candy is easily accessible for your sweet tooth cravings when you hear a strong, loud cluster of knocks at your front door. 

Knock. Knock. Knock-knock. 

Shaking off your initial startling from the sudden knocks, you open your front door to find Joel. He’s leaning his shoulder on the doorframe, one half of his body bears all his weight. He swiftly straightens upright again when you greet him. He looks even more handsome from the last time you saw him. He’s wearing dark wash jeans that accentuate his body in the most delectable way and a black t-shirt with a faded MILLER CONSTRUCTION graphic that is just barely legible. 

You have the urge to steal the well-worn shirt so you can sleep in it, relish his scent, and let it become a metaphorical embrace of Joel. 

Fuck, I really am down bad, you internally scold yourself to come back to the present moment. 

“Joel! Ho-how are you?” you manage to creak out through nerves and surprise. 

His beautiful, dark brown eyes are staring right into yours. His eyes could compel you to do anything. 

“I’m doin’ alright, you?” The word ‘alright’ is drawn out making it sound like “awllll-right”

“Can’t complain. Y’all settling in okay?” tilting your head unconsciously, as if to convey genuinity.  

“Oh yeah, ‘s a nice neighborhood. Sarah seems to be enjoyin’ her new school, I was a lil worried she’d have a hard time but she’s a smart kid and gets along with pretty much everyone. Awful silly of me to worry in the first place…” he’s rambling, hands moving at the same pace as his speech. 

You find his rambling to be cute, it’s a bit of a juxtaposition from his strong, demanding presence. 

Joel realizes he’s nervous after he concludes his tangent. When’s the last time he felt nervous around women? Especially a sweet, non-threatening woman like you? 

“Anywho, I came over to uh- ask you somethin’... Sarah liked your cookies so much she wants to learn how to make them herself and was wondering if you’d teach her?”

“I’d love to!” You shoot him a flattered smile,  learning that Sarah wanted you to teach her to bake makes your heart sing.

Joel is amazed at you. You agreed to teach a twelve year old, one who you hardly know, to bake. He shouldn’t be surprised given your sweet demeanor and generous heart, but he’s in awe of you. 

“You sure? I mean, you obviously don’t have to if you don’t want—”

“Joel, I’d be honored to. Send her over in an hour,” you cut him off, hoping to convey your delight in teaching someone else to bake, the same way your grandma did for you. 

Joel can’t stop the shit-eating grin that appears on his face. 

“Sounds good. I’ll send her your way, sweetheart,” he lingers just for a moment to watch your reaction to the nickname, the one he’s used twice. 

You desperately try to keep your composure cool and collected, but you’ve never had a good poker face. You wear your emotions like an accessory. And right now, you are flustered. You divert your attention to the ground as if looking into his eyes would expose your every thought. 

“O-okay!” You can barely stammer out a response before he is pivoting off your porch, back to his own house. 

You can’t see it with his back turned to you, but Joel is smirking to himself and feeling amused at his effect on you. 

+++

“You sure you don’t want me to go with you?”

“Yes, dad. I don’t need a chaperone to bake cookies. I’m a big girl now, remember?”

Yes, he is acutely aware that she is a big girl now. Well, not really, to him she will always be his baby girl, but that doesn’t stop her from growing up. Too fast for his liking. The idea of her becoming a teenager almost gives him a coronary. It won’t be long before she’s driving, then graduating, and college. What if she wants to attend a school in another state? Across the country? 

He feels queasy at that thought, afraid that she will grow out of thinking her dad is the coolest, afraid that she doesn’t want to spend time with her old man anymore. 

He wills himself to think about something else. Anything else. Inevitably his thoughts wander to you. 

Joel hates to admit it, but he was hoping to join Sarah for the baking lesson. He wants an excuse to be in your radiant, sweet, beautiful presence again. 

While you can’t stop thinking about him, he can’t stop thinking about you. 

Driving home from work? You. 

Making dinner? You. 

Making his morning coffee? You. 

Laying in bed? Oh, yeah. Definitely you. 

Exactly one hour passes when Sarah arrives at your house. You’ve already set up in your kitchen in preparation; already pre-measured the ingredients, setting out all the necessary baking equipment and you even found a spare apron for Sarah to wear. Ya know, to give her the full experience. 

“Oooh, this apron makes me feel like a professional!” Sarah exclaims after tying the strings on her designated apron. 

“Well, after this, you will be.”

You can’t remember the last time you felt this much joy. Sharing a passion of yours with someone who is eager to learn from you delights your heart and soul in a way you didn’t know you needed until now. 

“So first, we’ll need to combine the butter and sugar,” Sarah dumps the butter and sugar into the mixing bowl. “Great, now we want to beat the mixture until it looks fluffy.” 

She is completely engrossed in watching for the desired texture, furrowing her brows together in a way that mimics Joel. You find it adorable. 

“Excellent, now we are going to add in the eggs and vanilla extract.” 

She follows your instructions to a T, meticulous and concentrated as if she were mixing hazardous chemicals in a lab. 

“You’re doing great.  Now let’s add our dry ingredients, half of it at a time.” 

Her eyes light up when it’s time to fold in the chocolate chips. You both agree it’s the best part, both of you indulging in a few before adding them to the dough. 

You assist Sarah in rolling the dough into little balls and placing them onto the baking sheet. 

While waiting for the cookies to bake, you learn more about Sarah and Joel. She tells you about their old house, the camping trip they went on this past summer, the catchy pop songs on the radio that Joel will pretend to hate but she catches him humming the tune later, how Joel makes a big breakfast for the two of them every Sunday, a ritual they started when Sarah started school - he makes pancakes just for her. 

Getting a snapshot of Joel and Sarah’s lives and their dynamic makes your mega crush on Joel that much bigger. From what Sarah has shared with you, he seems like a caring, protective yet fun dad. You’re aching to learn everything about him. 

“Do you have any plans for Halloween?” Sarah asks as you’re pulling the baking sheet out of the oven. 

“Oh um, I usually just hand out candy to trick-or-treaters. Nothing super exciting. What about you?”

“We always order pizza and watch a scary movie - nothing super scary though. We dress up too. Well, I dress up but dad thinks he is too cool to do that so he wears the same boring mask every year,” she has a mischievous grin on her face, concocting a plan when she asks, “do you want to come over and join us?” 

On one hand you’d love nothing more than to spend more time with your new friend and Joel, but on the other hand the thought of being in the same room as Joel, in his house, makes you both anxious and aroused. Dizzy, nervous, and horny makes for an unpleasant combination. 

Gaining a sliver of bravery, you swallow your apprehension and say yes. 

“Sure, yeah, what time should I come over?”

“6:30. And you better wear a costume!”

+++

You’ve spent the past hour trying to put a costume together. Not making any progress, you decide to seek external advice - your best friend Katie. 

You both met as freshman and have been close friends ever since, even rooming together in your first off-campus apartment. She moved to the West Coast shortly after graduation, though you still keep in touch via email and phone. You give her the scoop on Joel - him moving into the neighborhood, your gigantic crush on him, how you baked cookies with Sarah yesterday. She’s impatiently waiting for you to bone your hot neighbor. Girl, I’m waiting too. 

“Do you still have that bunny costume you wore junior year?”

You rummage through your tote of seasonal clothing in search of said costume. Pulling it out, you now realize just how skimpy the costume really is. Bunny ears and a tail paired with a skin tight black bodysuit leaves virtually nothing to the imagination and definitely too much skin for this occasion. 

“Dude, I can’t wear this! His daughter will be there! I can’t believe I wore this out in public. This is X-Rated,” you’re growing agitated in having no success in your costume, to the point that you are tempted to tell Sarah you came down with something so you don’t have to go. 

“Okay, okay, the ears and tail are still salvageable. Do you have something besides the bodysuit?”

“Ummm…” you trail off into the phone, frantically searching for something to replace the risque bodysuit. You find a plain white baby tee amongst the sea of clothing, deciding you can pair it with your favorite jeans, the ones that accentuate your body in all the right places. 

“This could work..” muttering to yourself when a devious thought pops into your head. White shirt, no bra. 

“Found it! Gotta go, loveyoubye!” You hang up the call before Katie has a chance to respond, tossing your pink Razr on your bed. Your body hums in anticipation and jitters, feeling emboldened by your no bra plot. 

After throwing on your outfit, you style your hair differently than you normally do. You add several coats of mascara to your lashes, sweep on some blush that complements your skin and add a sparkly lip gloss to your lips, making them appear extra plump and juicy. 

You grab a bag of Halloween candy and you practically skip across the street. Reaching the front door of your new bestie and her gorgeous dad, your confidence is replaced with a furious ball of anxiety. Your heart is palpitating and you feel your stomach churn. 

 Would Joel think you looked stupid? Or worse, childish? Fuck, you should’ve stayed home. 

Joel opening the door snaps you out of your thought spiral but only briefly, because he’s staring at you like you’ve started growing extra limbs. He looks both puzzled and pissed? 

“What uh-what’re you doing here?” 

His voice has a sharpness you haven’t heard before and it stings. 

You have a moment of realization. 

Sarah didn’t run the invitation by her dad.

 You deduct that he isn’t a fan of surprises. 

Before you can formulate a response, Sarah saves you from having to do so. 

“You dressed up! I’m glad you came,” she squeals while wrapping her arms around your middle in an embrace. 

She looks up at Joel from where she’s latched onto you and gives her confused dad an explanation. 

“Dad, it’s okay, I invited her.” 

That seems to alleviate his confusion. You, on the other hand, not so much. You’re internally screaming at yourself. It’s obvious to you that Joel wasn’t expecting you, and in conclusion, doesn’t want you here. 

“I didn’t mean to impose, I—I’m sorry, I’ll uh— just go back home,” fighting back tears of embarrassment, looking everywhere except at Joel.  You think now is a superb time to move across the country, change your name, dye your hair, somewhere far away from this humiliation. 

Joel senses you’re feeling rejected in some way.

“No, no, come on in. Jus’ wasn’t expectin’ you s’all,” he gives you his most reassuring smile. 

You swallow the lump of emotions in your throat. 

He didn’t expect you to come over, nor did he expect you’d show up as his personal version of a Playboy bunny.  He almost busted in his jeans when he could see your nipples through your very thin white t-shirt. He thinks you’re trying to kill him. 

+++

You’re starting to relax once you three settle on the couch, Sarah nestling between you and Joel, Alien on the TV. Turns out, you and Joel share a love for the film. You may or may not have gotten into a heated (playful) debate about the other films in the franchise.

Joel gets an influx of trick-or-treaters, more than you usually get, residents of the neighborhood taking advantage of this opportunity to be nosy. Again. 

In between costume clad visitors, you sneak glances at Joel, who looks absolutely scrumptious tonight. His hair had been damp and combed back when you arrived, his curls now almost dry and in all their glory. He’s wearing an obviously well-loved, faded Pearl Jam concert tee that clings to his arms and grey sweatpants that sit dangerously low on his hips. You wonder if all his shirts fit like that. When he stands, you can see the outline of his dick through his sweatpants.  You have to manually restrain yourself from pouncing on him. You’re soaking through your panties and you’re a little worried that if you stand, the seat beneath you will be soaked too. 

The scent of his body wash invades your nostrils, a heavenly mix of sandalwood and cinnamon. You’re imagining yourself running your hands through his hair and burying your nose into his neck, alternating between kissing and sucking on the skin there. You want to taste every inch of his skin, taking your time to savor him. 

Joel’s stealing glances at you, too. He’s never seen someone look so sweet and seductive, divine even. You smell warm and sweet, amber and vanilla. Not the artificial, manufactured type vanilla scent, it’s like vanilla straight from the bean. When you readjust your position on the couch to get more comfortable, your tits lightly bounce, unrestrained by a bra. He has to stifle a groan, disguising it as a cough. He wonders how much they’d bounce if you were riding his cock. Your lips are absolutely sinful. Pouty and plump, juicy from the lip gloss. The bunny ears are the nail in his coffin. He’s picturing you bent over on his couch, still wearing the bunny ears as he devours your pussy from behind. 

Only a quarter of the way through the movie, a few of Sarah’s friends from her old school pop in to invite her over for an impromptu sleepover to which Joel agrees to, since they no longer go to school together. 

Which means you and Joel are left alone. Together. Your body is aching to close space between you and the man you’re enamored with. You don’t know that Joel is itching to do the same. 

“Sarah couldn’t stop talkin’ bout yesterday. She loved hangin’ out with ya, thanks again for doin’ that.”

“She’s welcome to come over anytime. She’s a sweet kid,” you’re beaming at the fact she enjoyed baking with you. Joel notices the way your eyes gleam, overflowing with delight.

You finally have the courage to meet his eyes. The way his eyes are raking over your entire body makes your clit throb in anticipation. Your heartbeat is erratic, thumping loudly in your ears. 

The energy in the room is magnetic, pulling you and Joel closer together. 

“You can uh-scoot closer t’me if ya want,” he gruffs out, beckoning you to scoot closer to him. Joel wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but you make him feel like a flustered teenage boy about to kiss a girl for the first time. 

You scoot closer to Joel, hoping he doesn’t notice your body trembling from nerves. 

With your body flush next to his, he stretches one of his toned arms behind your head, resting it on the back of the couch. You can feel the warmth radiating from his body and it sends a shiver down your spine, straight to your aching core. 

The tension in the air is palpable, both of your bodies buzzing in arousal. You’re both pretending to watch the movie in front of you, but your minds are elsewhere. He gently removes his arm from the couch and rests it across your shoulders. It’s a seemingly innocuous gesture, but its impact makes you clench around nothing, more arousal dripping into your panties. 

He leans his head down close to yours, his mouth behind your ear.

“No bra? You’re a naughty lil bunny aren’t ya?” His hot breath tickles your ear, your eyes clamp shut involuntarily and you whimper. A high-pitched, whiny whimper, and Joel’s never heard anything sweeter. 

He places his other large palm on your thigh, gently squeezing it. Your skin prickling in goosebumps and your nipples are hard enough to cut glass. The wetness pooled in your panties is beyond the point of comfort. 

Joel presses a chaste kiss behind your ear, eliciting another whimper from you. He peppers kisses from your neck all the way to your collarbones.

“This okay?” 

“Mhmmm…”  You’re already so keyed up you feel hazy. Your whole body feels hot, lit aflame by Joel’s lips on your skin.  

“You gonna be a good girl for me?” he rasps while his hand is caressing your thigh, intentionally not too close to where you want him. Need him. 

“Mhmmm,” you moan, still unable to form words, arousal taking over all of your bodily functions. 

“Need you to use your words, honey.” He squeezes your thigh again.

He pulls his face back from your neck to look you in the eyes, and slows his movements on your thigh so you can tell him to back off or give him the green light to continue. You grab his hand on your thigh and squeeze it, to keep him from removing it. 

“Joel, pleeease. Want it so bad. Need you so fuckin’ bad.” 

You beg in the most sultry voice you can muster, emphasizing every syllable. 

Your lust laden eyes and the way you mewl for him ignites something ravenous, primal, carnal in him. He hasn’t heard you cuss before and it sounds so filthy in your honeyed voice.  His rock hard cock twitches in his pants. 

He presses his plush lips against yours. It’s hesitant at first, but his apprehension dissipates when you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him back with fervor. Joel deepens the kiss, one hand gripping your hip, the other hand splayed between your shoulder blades, pressing your body further into his. You tangle one of your hands in his luscious curls. He tastes like sweet peppermint and a hint of black coffee. You feel dizzy, tasting him, finally feeling him. 

He breaks the kiss, guiding you to lie down on your back and props your head up on one of the couch armrests. 

He’s looking down at you and he’s never seen anything more beautiful. You’re always pretty, effortlessly so. But seeing you underneath him, sweet and desperate for him? He’d do anything you ask him to.

“You’re the prettiest lil bunny. So fuckin’ pretty.”

You’re bashful under his gaze and his compliment, cheeks burning. 

Joel notices you trying to shy away and he places a thumb under your chin, forcing you to keep looking at him. 

Now you feel embarrassed for trying to shy away in the first place.

“Sorry I’m—”

“Nothing to ‘pologize for, sweetheart,” he’s caressing your chin with his thumb, alleviating all of the embarrassment from you.

“Wanna taste you. You’ve no idea how bad I’ve wanted to taste you. Needed to know if you were as sweet as your cookies.”

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe out, “yes - yes please, taste me, Joel”

He chuckles softly at your enthusiasm and promptly rids you of your jeans, making the leather of the couch feel cool to the back of your thighs. 

Joel lets out a guttural moan when he sees your sky blue satin panties soaked through. He runs a finger over the damp spot, making you quiver. His touch is featherlight and it’s maddening. You’re squirming, hips lifting off the couch, chasing for more. 

He obliges, running a finger over your clit with added pressure. 

“Joel, please–” You’re a whiny mess under him, and he’s just getting started. He’s rubbing gentle circles over your bud, still-panty clad. 

He presses a kiss on your belly, just below your navel. The tenderness makes your body shudder.

He finally removes your panties and you gasp when the cool air hits your throbbing pussy. 

“Pretty girl with a pretty pussy to match.” Joel’s admiring the way your pussy is glistening for him, begging to be touched. 

He runs a finger through your drenched seam, your juices dripping onto his thick digit. He licks his finger, then shoves it into his mouth so he can taste every drop. His eyes clamp shut, groaning at how you taste. You commit the image to memory, not wanting to forget how he looks and sounds when he tastes you for the first time.

“Knew you’d taste sweet. So fuckin’ sweet.” 

Your brain short circuits when you realize that means he’s thought about this before. That he’s imagined how you’d taste. Picturing him fantasizing about you makes you light-headed. 

Joel spreads your legs wider, giving him full access to your pussy. He dives in without warning, licking from entrance up to your clit.

“Fuck, Joel!” You hoarsely shout with one hand gripping the couch cushion and one tugging onto Joel’s messy curls. His beard scratches the sensitive skin of your pussy as you grind your hips into his mouth, desperate for release. 

 You see stars while he expertly alternates between flicking his tongue and sucking on your clit. He’s keeping a steady rhythm, on the slower side, taking his time pleasuring you. He’s enjoying this.

Obscene sounds fill the room; Joel devouring your pussy like it’s the Last Supper and your chorus of moans and expletives. 

“Fuck, don’t stop, don’t you fucking stop!”

“Shitshitshit–”

“Joelllll-” 

He picks up the pace, your fingers cramping from their deathgrip on the couch. You feel your peak approaching - sweat beading on your forehead, chest heaving, head thrown back in ecstasy. 

Joel senses your approaching release and pushes one of his thick, dexterous fingers into your weeping hole. 

He reaches for your hand that’s tangled in his hair and intertwines your fingers with his, resting your connected hands on your inner thigh. It’s overwhelming; the intimacy of your interlocked fingers paired with the filthy onslaught of his mouth. 

He speeds up as he adds another finger, hitting the spot that no one except you has reached before. You never knew it could feel this amazing. You thought you were doomed to a life of bad sex. 

Apparently, you just needed Joel to show you differently. And you are so glad he proved you wrong. 

Joel hooks his fingers inside you bringing you closer and closer to that peak you’ve been dying to reach. You’re squeezing his fingers, both the ones inside you and the ones interlaced with yours. 

“Joel I-I’m close,” you manage to choke out, mind foggy from the intense pleasure. 

He sucks on your clit, hard and you’re coming, entering a euphoric plane of existence. You’re floating, body trembling, coming harder than you’ve ever come before. 

Joel slows his fingers and removes his mouth from your pussy, beard glistening with your release, gently bringing you back to reality. He keeps your fingers locked with his, grounding you in the present.

The orgasmic fog clears from your brain, regaining awareness of your surroundings when you feel how drenched your lower half is. Like, really drenched. You lift your head from the armrest and look down and you’re appalled by the scene. 

You fucking squirted. Everywhere. 

On yourself, on the couch, on Joel. His beard is soaked completely, to the point it’s dripping down his chin. He’s just as stunned as you are. 

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry, fuck I-” you’re scrambling to get off the couch and Joel grabs your arm, stopping you in your tracks. 

“What’re you sorry for? That was so fuckin’ hot, sweetheart.” 

“I-I didn’t know I could do that…”

“Oh yeah? First time ever squirtin’?

“Yeah, the first time anyone else has made me come… like, ever.” 

His gaze goes dark. 

You get the feeling that he’s just getting started with you. 

And just like your cookies, he’d never have enough. 

THE END

#joel miller #joel fic #joel x f!reader #fanfic #first fanfic #joel miller is babygirl #joel miller smut

[themidnightcrimson]

religion ࿏ wm

summary: in which the new reverend at your hometown church wants to give you a lesson on sexual immorality.

words: 5.6K

warnings: pastor!wanda, fem!reader, oral (r giving), fingering (r receiving), slight non-con/dubcon, manipulation, dumbification, degradation, religion, lots of bible verses, rip my religious trauma, spank me with a bible, fuck me with the crucifix, yes lord in wanda's name we pray amen

this post is for 18+ only. minors dni.

masterlist.

A few women in the church had put together a potluck after one Sunday sermon, or a “covered dish supper” as the elders liked to call them. You remembered loving those potlucks as much as you loved church itself when you were a child. As the years went by and your worldview got bigger and your mind opened up to the broader possibilities that this was not what life should be like, you scarcely ever went to church.

Upon moving away for college, the idea of church was a laughable thing to you. You could hardly even remember what the rituals were anymore, or the verses, or the hymns. It wasn’t necessarily a hatred or aversion, but rather a bitter distaste in your mouth when reminded of how indoctrinated you and your whole community were into the church. You just weren’t religious anymore, and you preferred living life that way, though it took years of untying the knots of theological principals and “truths” from your mind.

When you were back in your hometown for a visit, your mother nearly fell over at the sight of the little rainbow bracelet on your wrist. After a very heated conversation where you threw in her face the fact that you had been with multiple women in college, she seemed to give up and leave the conversation alone—until the next morning she asked you to come to church with her.

“Really? You think going to church is going to reverse the way that I was born? You expect me to just pray the gay away?!” you yelled at her, but she was calm. She said that was not her intentions, but rather they were to simply have you come see everyone you grew up around. She said that there was a new pastor there who was younger and could relate better to youth without that kind of feigned wise judgment that the other pastor, a wobbly old man, used.

You fought tooth and nail against your mom in a thirty-minute argument until finally you were just too tired to fight against her anymore. You felt how you did in high school—getting lectured by your mom for skipping church only a single Sunday, being placed under her godly ray of obstinance that so easily drained you until you just couldn’t fight anymore. She forced you to wear one of your church dresses from high school and practically shoved you into the car that Sunday morning. You were just looking forward to the potluck afterward.

As your mom pulled the car into the church’s parking lot, you realized that they had done renovations on the sanctuary since you had been gone. It was bigger now, with huge mosaic windows facing the front and a new pure white cross on top of the spire, making the triangular building look even taller and more pointed than it already was.

“This new pastor a millionaire or something?” you mumbled as you unbuckled your seatbelt.

“No, she’s just so brilliant and amazing that she’s attracted dozens of new parishioners since she came,” she explained. “You’ll see. She really has a way of connecting with young people, especially young women. I couldn’t tell you how many girls your age have joined in the past year!”

Crinkling your eyebrows, you stepped out of the car and took a breath of fresh air. Even in the parking lot, you could pick up that familiar smell of wood and old books. “The pastor is a woman?” you asked, remembering only male pastors. Although your denomination was open towards female pastors, the general misogyny of your small-town Southern community had always favored men, of course.

“Uh huh,” your mother said as she stepped out of the car and fixed her hair in the wind, walking over to you and gently grabbing your arm suddenly. “Y/n, I should probably let you know… I did call Reverend Maximoff last night and told her a little about your…situation.”

Your eyes widened as you stared at her incredulously. “What?!” Had your mother really gone and called the local pastor to tell her that her daughter was gay?

“Look, it’s important for a pastor to know their parishioners’ personal lives in order to truly connect with them. I’m not saying I asked her to… pray the gay away or whatever you said, but I just let her know that you were having some…sexually immoral feelings. She’s helped many young women here with the same problem.”

“Excuse me?!” you exclaimed, jerking your arm away from your hand. An old couple walking by glanced over at you, and you blushed and looked away, speaking quieter. “Why the hell would you tell some woman I don’t even know that I’m having sex with women?!”

“She’s not some woman, she’s an ordained minister of God!” your mother exclaimed. “She’s not going to drag you up in front of the church and hang you, for God’s sake! She was just concerned that you’re not living your life under the guidance of God and would be happy to give you a steering hand, that’s all! She didn’t even say anything about the gay part—just the promiscuity!”

Curse words formed on your lips, but you pursed them together, pushing past your mother and towards the church so you could get this thing over with. “Promiscuity my ass,” you muttered as you burst open the church doors, hit with that familiar old smell. It looked different now that it had been renovated, the ceiling and windows much taller and the carpet redone, but it was the same wooden pews you remembered as a child and the same large altar with a grand piano and steps for the choir.

You looked around at all the familiar townspeople sitting in the pews as the choir, dressed in their robes and holding their hymnals, made their way to the chancel in formation. You realized that your mother was right when she said that the church had grown—all of the pews were jammed full of people, except for a little spot near the front where there was enough room for two people to squeeze in. Feeling aggravated and brash, you stormed to the front and shimmied past the row of people to sit down in the empty spot, your mother scrambling down beside you.

“Please don’t be angry in the house of God,” she began.

You ignored her, looking around and seeing that there were groups of young women your age looking excitedly towards the altar, waiting for the pastor to come out. You assumed maybe the pastor had started a women’s group and was just mentoring the young women.

Reaching forward, you took the hymnal book sitting in the slot behind the pew in front of you, opening up its yellowed pages and flipping through. You could still remember some of the songs, but before you could read one, there was a hushing whisper among the congregation.

Glancing upwards, you saw Reverend Maximoff emanating from behind the altar, glancing out among the ground with a smile as she stepped to the front. You were shocked to see her—she was older than you, but not by too much. She had a youthful smile to her face and twinkling green eyes, her blonde hair cut right to the shoulders of the maroon robe and dark green stole she wore.

“Good morning, everyone,” she announced, her voice loud and confident. The church crowd silenced and gave their full attention to her. “Today we will start by worshiping the Lord our God with our choir’s beautiful voices, as well as your own.” Her Southern accent was feminine and airy with a cheerful tune to it, as if she was already singing by simply speaking. “Please turn to page 304 in your hymnals and stand to worship the Lord with us.”

The sound of people standing and pages turning filled your ears, and you found yourself flipping to the page and standing up along with everyone else, realizing that your muscle memory was still there. It felt odd being in that place again, viewing the solemnity and respect of religion in a community sense.

The choir started, and then the rest of the church joined in, singing the hymn in unison. You didn’t sing at first, until your mother’s elbow stabbed your ribcage, so you quietly mumbled the words.

Glancing up, you watched Reverend Maximoff singing at her stand, face turned towards the choir and grinning at them as the words formed on her lips. You had to admit that for a pastor, she was beautiful and charming. Her smile was nearly mesmerizing as her head slowly turned towards the congregation in appreciation for their singing, eyes casting over the pews of people until they flickered near you. Realizing that you were staring, you quickly glanced down at the book before she could make eye contact with you. Feeling suddenly nervous, you mindlessly stared at the book until you figured she would be looking somewhere else, looking back up only to find that she was looking right at you.

All you could hear were the choral praises of God as the Reverend’s eyes bore into yours. The smile on her face faded a little, her focus zoning in on you through the crowd. You remembered what your mother had told her about you, the thought bringing a sickly blush of shame to your cheeks. Why was she staring at you? Was she judging you? Thinking about what a dirty sinner you were? You couldn’t take it, but you couldn’t look away either.

Finally, the song ended, and she broke eye contact.

“Thank you so much. You may please be seated.”

The crowd sat down and put their hymnals away as the choir did the same, and once everyone was finally still and quiet, the Reverend opened her Bible and started flipping through pages to find notes for her sermon.

“Today, people, we will be talking about the one thing we think about almost all of the time—our bodies.” Your teeth ached as you braced yourself for whatever religious bullshit was about to be shoved down your throat. “Our bodies—whether it be our health, our appearance, the work we can do with them, what we eat, what we drink—our bodies remain a constant thought in our mind.”

She stepped out from behind the stand, walking to the front steps of the altar and peering out at the crowd with her luring eyes like a bird.

“God tells us in His Word that our bodies are a temple for the Holy Spirit. You see, we do not own our flesh and blood. Our body is a sacrament to Him in everything we do with it. Our divine purpose on this Earth is to use our bodies the Lord has given us as a vessel for the Spirit, to spread His Holy Word. If our bodies are unholy, or if we use them to transgress against His Word, we are violating His purpose for them.”

As much as you wanted to dissociate and just block out whatever she was saying, a strange curiosity overcame you that kept your eyes trained on her as she stepped down the altar steps to get even closer to the crowd, holding the Bible in her hands.

“There are many ways that we sin with our bodies every day. When your mouth curses, when your hands do not pray to Him, when your feet lead you to unholy places. One of the most extreme ways that we go against the Holy Spirit within us is when we commit the very sin that seems to have a grasp on the youth today—sexual immorality.”

There it was. You bit the inside of your cheek and took a deep breath, trying to control the anger within you.

“I want y’all to turn to one of my favorite passages in the Word,” she said, turning to walk towards the other side of the pew as she waited for people to turn to the verse. “1 Corinthians 6:13.”

You wouldn’t dare to pick up a Bible. You crossed your arms and ignored your mother’s urging glances as the Reverend started to read.

“You say, food for the stomach and the stomach for the food, and God will destroy them both. The body, however, is not meant for sexual immorality but for the Lord, and the Lord for the body,” she called out, her voice echoing off the walls of the large room. You watched her, her back turned from you, as she paced the other side of the room before turning, walking towards your side of the pew with her eyes trained on the book. “By his power God raised the Lord from the dead, and he will raise us also. Do you not know that your bodies are members of Christ himself? Shall I then take the members of Christ and unite them with a prostitute? Never!”

You rolled your eyes and rubbed your forehead, wishing you could escape this cultish experience. Still, you watched her, the way her lips formed the words, the way her face looked pointed down to the book, eyelashes dancing across her cheeks as she read the words.

“But whoever is united with the Lord is one with him in spirit.” She turned down the center aisle, and as she got closer to your pew, you started to shift uncomfortably in your seat. Suddenly, her eyes lifted from the pages and pierced you sideways. You felt frozen under her stare as she discreetly eyed you, not even having to look at the page to recite, “Flee from sexual immorality. All other sins a person commits are outside the body, but whoever sins sexually, sins against their own body.”

Her voice was lower now, serious and clear. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from hers as she slowly floated past you, her robe wafting around her ankles. You noticed the way her svelte hands held the Bible, a single digit lifting to flick the page. You could’ve sworn you saw a smirk on her lips as she finally looked away from you and kept preaching, walking down the aisle.

Finally, you could breathe. Surprise filled you as you realized that you had started sweating—were you really so demonic that you were sweating in the pews of a church? But why did she look right at you as she read that particular verse? Was she targeting you because of what your mother had said?

You could barely listen to the rest of the sermon as she talked about sexual immorality and fleeing from it by turning your mind and body towards the Lord.

At the potluck, you couldn’t help but find your eyes drifting to wherever Reverend Maximoff was in the room. Potlucks were always held in a building connected to the sanctuary where they had special events and meetings. She drifted around the room chatting with different members of the congregation, her eyes somehow always finding yours right as you were looking at her. You would blush and quickly look away, redirecting your focus on what the old lady was talking to you and your mom about.

You didn’t realize that she was waiting for you to be alone. Finally, you left your mom and the lady to go to the table filled with homemade desserts, browsing around for something chocolate.

A hand on your lower back made you gasp and turn. You were shocked to see Reverend Maximoff standing close beside you, still dressed in her robes. “Y/n,” she greeted you with a pearly smile, her earrings dangling from her ears. “It’s so nice to finally meet you. Your mom has talked about you so much since I’ve been here.”

“Oh,” you said with a polite smile. “Has she?”

“Yes,” she smoothly answered, stepping even closer to you. “I’m very glad you came today. I must tell you that the Lord has speaking to my heart about you quite a lot.”

“Oh yea?” you said disinterestedly, more focused on the way her eyes kept darting down your body, trying to pinpoint why she was ogling you.

She tilted her head and closed her smile, looking thoughtful for a brief moment before saying, “You know, I was hoping you would have a session with me here sometime, before you go back to college. I would love to talk more with you and get to know you. You were at this church long before I was, and I would love to give you some heavenly advice on whatever is pressing at your heart.”

Your eyebrows rose. “Nothing’s pressing at my heart but my ribcage.”

She giggled, and it surprised you. “No, there’s always something for pretty young women like you.” You flushed a little at her choice of words. “God has a plan for you, y/n, but I get the feeling you may need some guidance to get you there.”

“You get these feelings a lot?” you droned, picking up a brownie from the table and taking a bite, keeping eye contact with her. You weren’t going to let this pastor try to get her godly claws in you.

Her eyes flickered to your mouth as you took a bite of the brownie, her irises darkening. “Come see me after the Wednesday night sermon. Maybe…” She reached forward and took the half-eaten brownie from your hand, her fingers grazing yours. “I can teach you to use your mouth to praise the Lord.”

She put the half of the brownie into her mouth and chewed it with a smirk. Frozen and confused, you stared at her as she put her thumb in her mouth to suck off the crumbs, winking and floating away from you. Your entire body went hot as her words folded over in your mind, as well as the sight of her eating the brownie you had just had between your teeth.

Normally, you would’ve declined any invitation to have personal sessions with a Reverend, but the brief interaction you had with Reverend Maximoff had you offput and curious. Your mother almost cried in relief when you told her that you would be going to the Wednesday night sermon as well as staying behind to speak with the Reverend.

Wednesday’s sermon went the same as Sunday’s. There were less people there that night, naturally, and although Wednesday night sermons were usually shorter than Sunday’s, it seemed like Reverend Maximoff was antsy to be finished with it. She spoke faster with less focus, ending the sermon after only an hour. Your mother excitedly hurried away with the rest of the congregation, and you anxiously stayed in the pew as the Reverend talked with some lingering people until finally she ushered them all out, closing and locking the church doors behind the last person.

You turned your head and watched her as she sighed, holding onto the doors for a moment before turning around to look at you, clasping her hands at her front.

“Y/n,” she began lowly, turning her face down slightly as her eyes trained on you, her feet slowly leading her up the aisle towards you. “I was so glad when I saw you here tonight.”

“Well,” you began, fiddling with your thumbs. “I didn’t have anything else to do tonight.”

It was only partially true. You could have caught up with your old friends or went out to dinner or even just stayed home and watched TV, but something lured you into that church that night, and you felt it had something to do with the way she predatorily eyed you as she neared you.

She said nothing as she came closer, sucking her cheeks as you could see words forming in her brain. “Keep watch over yourselves and all the flock of which the Holy Spirit has made you overseers. Be shepherds of the church of God, which he bought with his own blood.” A smirk drew itself on her lips. “Acts 20:28.”

You just raised your eyebrows and nodded impressively. “You have the Bible memorized. Good for you.”

Ignoring your sly comment, she spoke, “It means that, as the Reverend of this church, it is my duty to be a shepherd.”

“That is what the verse says.”

Her eyes narrowed at you, her lips parted at distaste of your attitude. “What did I tell you about your mouth?” she snapped, her voice edged and cutting as it echoed loudly off the walls of the church, reminding you how alone you were with her. You stiffened in the pew.

She neared you, resting a hand on the edge of the pew as she stood before you. “As a shepherd, I must keep watch of my flock. I must be aware of them all the time—their lives, feelings, behaviors, their walk with God.” She paused, her tongue settling over her lower lip as she tilted her head. “Tell me, what path do you walk?”

You blinked, lips opening and closing as you tried to understand what she was asking.

“Do you walk the ways of the wicked? The ways of Satan himself?” Without breaking eye contact, she lowered and sat on the pew beside you. “Does your body sin against the Spirit?”

Looking down, you shook your head and laughed. “I know my mom told you. Believe me when I say I have no inclination to your religion, and I never will. I don’t need to be scrutinized or judged.”

“Your mother was only acting as a shepherd by leading you to me, and I thank her for that,” she remarked, her eyes glancing down at your dress where the ends stopped at your mid-thigh, leaving your legs bare. “I fear you are not treating your body as the temple of God it is. You have tainted it with your sexual proclivities, haven’t you, y/n?”

Your face started to burn at her outright words. “Excuse me?”

“Tell me, how do you prefer to use your body? Like a whore? Like a destitute slut?”

Ears burning at the sound of her husky voice, your face burned even hotter. The shock of her words left you speechless and utterly confused as to how a Reverend would speak to someone that way.

“You can tell me, y/n. Only God is watching us.” She reached forward suddenly, placing her hand on your thigh and sliding it upwards. The touch startled you and made you jump to your feet.

She looked up at you with a twisted smirk as you started to tremble with nervousness. “What kind of a Reverend are you?”

“One who will do anything to guide her people to God,” she lilted, standing up and reaching for you again. You backed away, bumping into the wooden back of the pew and circling around it to get away from her. You jumped up the steps of the altar.

“What are you doing?!”

“So Christ himself gave the apostles,” she began in her pastor voice she used during the sermon, circling the pew to saunter towards you again, stalking like a predator, “the prophets, the evangelists, the pastors and teachers, to equip his people for works of service, so that the body of Christ may be built up.” She took a slow step up the altar, grinning devilishly. “Ephesians 4:11-12.” She lowered her chin. “I can help you restore your body’s temple. I can sanctify you, make you whole again in the eyes of the Lord.”

Your heartbeat fluttered at the way she was seductively eyeing you, sauntering up the steps, the sultry and sensual tone in her voice. You let her come near you and place a hand on your waist that made you shiver all over.

Whispering, she said, “As God’s apostle, I offer you a direct line to worship Him and beg for forgiveness.” Her other hand softly cupped your chin, feeling the blushing skin here. Her thumb grazed over your lower lip, her dilated eyes drinking up your mouth like thick wine, and she recited, “May my prayer be set before you like incense; may the lifting up of my hands be like the evening sacrifice.”

The verse burned in your ears—it was one you had memorized for Sunday school so many years ago and somehow still subconsciously remembered. You whispered, “Psalms 141:2.”

Her grin widened. “Good girl.” She licked her lips, thumb still grazing your own. “From the fruit of their mouth a person’s stomach is filled; with the harvest of their lips they are satisfied. The tongue has the power of life and death, and those who love it will eat its fruit. Proverbs 18:20-21.”

It became hard to breathe when two of her fingers slipped through your lips and sunk slowly over your tongue.

“What goes into someone’s mouth does not defile them, but what comes out of their mouth, that is what defiles them. Matthew 15:11,” she recited, her own lips parting in a sigh as she slid her fingers further into your mouth.

A soft noise escaped your throat as you let her feel your mouth, your legs becoming weak. Her grip on your waist tightened when you flicked your tongue between her fingers and closed your lips, sucking dutifully on them. She jutted her lower teeth in desire, stepping so close to you that there was no room to breathe. Your skin felt hot all over, and you became suddenly aware of the cross hanging at the front of the altar, as if it were burning into your back.

The Reverend licked the back of her teeth, eyes trained on her fingers disappearing into your mouth as she whispered, “Shall you use your tongue to praise the Lord our God?”

A dirty sucking sound escaped your mouth as you sucked her fingers, and you were so under her trance, her beautiful green eyes, the way she was so enamored with your mouth, that you eagerly nodded around her fingers.

A half smile curled on her open lips as she slid her fingers out of your mouth, placing a hand on your shoulder and harshly pushing you down. Your knees hit the velvet red steps of the altar as Reverend Maximoff, standing on the step below you, placed one leg on the upper step and started to lift up her robe. You kneeled, watching in all of God’s glory, with the church’s mosaic windows behind her, as the Reverend lifted up her maroon robes and bunched them with one hand at her hips, exposing her bare pussy. With one foot on the step below your knees, and the other foot beside your knees, she tilted open her thigh and placed a hand on the back of your head.

You shivered at the feeling of her fingers in your hair as she pushed your head towards her, bucking her hips. You were filled with pulsing desire as you placed your hands gently on her hips and let her draw your mouth towards her, opening your lips and finding her slick folds. Your tongue ran over her slit, and you moaned at her taste, at how she was so wet that her juices already covered your lips.

Reverend Maximoff sighed, leaning her head back as you found her clit and started to lap at it. “Oh, God!” she exclaimed, pushing her hips towards your face as you suckled on her clit.

You could hardly keep up with her as she pushed your head and bucked her hips at the same time, forcing her clit onto your tongue. Your mouth involuntarily closed when one particular thrust of your head was too rough, to which she snapped, “Open your mouth! Proverbs 31:26—She speaks with wisdom, and faithful instruction is on her tongue.” Her sentence ended with a piercing moan as you opened your mouth wider for her and let her fuck it as she pleased.

Whining from the force, you furiously tried to pleasure her—as much as you could with the way she was practically pleasuring herself with your mouth like it was a toy. You melted at the sounds of her moans and gasps that echoed in the church, at the way that you were kneeling on the altar with your head between her legs, at the way her hand was tangled in your hair. Her clit tangibly throbbed on your tongue as her hips thrusted harder, her moans rising in pitch.

“Oh, God! Oh, God!” she screamed as she came, grinding her clit against your tongue and grabbing your hair so hard that your scalp ached. You struggled to breathe, eyes tearing up from the pressure on your face, listening to her catch her breath and loosen her grip on your hair. Finally, she moved away from you, dropping her robe back down her ankles. You were panting, lips puffy and red and covered in her wetness, eyes glistening as you stared up at her, drunk with lust. She grinned, biting her lip. “You serve the Lord well. Come.”

She offered out her hands, and you took them, letting her help you to her feet and guide you to the front pew. She sat down, keeping hold of your hands, and pulled you down so you straddled her lap. She sighed, her eyes looking everywhere at you except your face.

Her fingers crawled to the straps of your dress, slowly tugging them down your bare shoulders. She recited, “How beautiful you are and how pleasing, my love, with your delights.” Her voice was quiet in the silent room, burning at your ears as you tried to stay focused with the taste of her still on your lips. Her eyes sunk down your chest as she started to pull the dress down your breasts. “I said, I will climb the palm tree; I will take hold of its fruit.”

She tugged the fabric of your dress over your breasts, exposing them as they bounced over the fabric. Taking a sharp breath, she drew one hand to your tit and squeezed the soft flesh there, earning a gasp from you.

“May your breasts be like clusters of grapes on the vine, the fragrance of your breath like apples, and your mouth like the best wine.” Her eyes, which were trained on your exposed chest in front of her, flickered up to your face, catching the gloss of her cum on her lips. She raised her other hand and spread her fingers over your lips, smearing the wetness across your mouth. “May the wine go straight to my beloved, flowing gently over lips and teeth.”

You started to throb at her touches, at her words, at her inebriated eyes. Her hand that groped your breast fell down to your thighs, urging the end of your dress upwards as it slid up your skin.

“Song of Songs 7:6-9,” she whispered with finality as she danced her fingers up your inner thigh, and you watched her hand disappear under your skirt. “Is your body a temple of God, y/n?” she asked you as she parted your panties with her fingers.

You nodded desperately, so turned on by what she had done to your mouth, so dumbed down by the verses and the touches and the taste of her. She bit her lip and moaned as her fingers touched your slick cunt, grazing over your clit before two of them sunk into your hole.

Head falling back, you grabbed at the shoulders of her robe and whined as she plunged her fingers inside you, your wetness already making a dirty squelching noise as she pumped inside of you.

“I’m not so sure it is,” she husked as she wrapped an arm around your hip to steady your bucking motions. “You’ve been a dirty girl, y/n. You’ve used your body to sin against His Word. My hand of God can only do so much—you need to beg for his forgiveness.” An evil smirk lined her lips.

You could barely hear what she was saying as she fucked her fingers into you, your hips moving up and down in desperate search for more of her. She thumbed at your clit as she waited for you to answer, leaning forward to press wet kisses on your nipples that bounced with your motions.

“Please, God,” you began shakily, “Forgive me.”

“That’s not good enough,” she tutted, suddenly pushing a third finger inside you. Your mouth fell open at the stretch and the burst of sensations that exploded when she curled her fingers inside you. “Beg Him. Beg Him to forgive you for being a dirty whore.”

“Ah!” you exclaimed when she bit your nipple, jamming her fingers into you harshly. “P-Please, God,” you began breathlessly, squeezing the Reverend’s shoulders as pressure built inside you. “Please forgive me.”

“Forgive you for?” she urged, biting your other nipple and sucking on it.

You tried to remember exactly what she had said as your orgasm threatened to impend upon you. “F-For, for being a dirty whore!” The sound of your own voice saying those words pushed you over the edge, your inner walls clenching around the Reverend’s fingers. Your hips rocked hard against her hand as she watched in pure desire and delight, grinning when you finally came down from your climax.

“Very good, my child,” she soothed as you panted, her fingers still inside you. You trembled on her lap, seeing that your wetness had dripped onto her hand and down her maroon robe. “The Lord our God is a merciful one. He forgives you.” She played with the end of your dress, moving her fingers inside you and seeing just what a mess she had made of you. She looked up at your beat red face and teary eyes, her eyes alight with an idea. “Have you ever been baptized?”

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #marvel #lesbian #lgbt #wanda maximoff x fem!reader

[suicide-bullet]

reader is religious, euronymous fucks her woooo!!!

fem reader + oc, if u want a specific description request pls! corruption kink, degradation kink, praise kink too, pet names, name calling, blasphemy, freaky smut, cheating, hair pulling, dom!euronymous, sub!reader, stranger to lovers.

y/n walked into the unfamiliar store, her blonde curls bouncing with every step. her short, black mini skirt riding up, as she adjusted her leather jacket. her crucifix lay on her chest, bouncing atop of her breasts. for a religious girl she certainly showed a lot of skin, as her mother would say. the bell rang, the long haired man at the counter spun on his feet. she stood to the left of the store, flicking through the albums.

she looked around, spotting many upside-down crosses, making her grimace. y/n walked towards the counter, giving the man a smile. euronymous looked her up and down with a sly smirk, "you sure you're in the right place, little lady?" that same smirk soon turned into something else, when he spotted that necklace. she rolled her eyes, "i'm looking for an album for my boyfriend. it's his birthday tomorrow."

euronymous stared into her soul, a mix of anger and jealousy spread across his face. why did he like this girl? she was just one of those 'egotistical god whores.' he wondered how she felt about the churches, something inside of him urging to ask.

"he mentioned a name, scorpio or something." she fiddled with her black-painted fingernails. euronymous raised his eyebrows at the small girl, "scorpions?" she nodded, her eyes lit up. "yes! that was it, thankyou." euronymous chuckled, "your boyfriend is a fucking poser." her eyebrows knitted together, "what?" she spat. "you fuckin' heard me." he spoke slowly, rage clear in his voice. his eyes longed on her chest, on that necklace. "you one of those goody christian whores?"

she stayed quiet, he leaned forward. "you deaf or somethin? answer me." he demanded, making her knees buckle. "i'm not a whore." she snarled, igniting a fire within him. "don't fuckin' talk to me like that." y/n scoffed, "you can't tell me what to do." she remarked, he grabbed her by her hair, pulling her behind the counter, in front of him. he grabbed her necklace, holding it in his clutch. "you're a good girl, hm? a saint, an angel." he spoke, looking into her brown orbs. "yes." she whimpered, looking up at him.

he could smell her from beneath him. mixtures of floral, cocoa and vanilla. on the other hand, he smelt of cigarettes, cologne and strangely blood. "then why are you here? can't you see? i'm a satanist, baby." she grimaced yet again, "you need jesus." euronymous grabbed her neck, "why you always got a fuckin' attitude? your boyfriend doesn't fuck you hard enough, is that it?" y/n shook her head, "my boyfriend fucks me just fine."

"oh, sweetheart. he fucks you? your little god wouldn't be so happy about that now would he?" euronymous teased, she pouted her lips, tears pricking in her eyes. "maybe you need to repent for your sins, i can help you with that." he grabbed her waist, rubbing against the soft skin, his lips latching on to her neck, she let out a quiet moan. "no, stop. this is wrong, i, i don't even know you. and, and i have a boyfriend." euronymous continued, she didn't fight it, letting out whimpers as he travelled down her neck.

a pool of slick formed in her underwear, as she smashed her lips against his. his hands cupped her face, he bit down on her lip, making her them fall apart. his tongue entering her mouth, her own fighting for dominance. "atta' girl." he mumbled, wrapping her legs around his waist, holding onto her thighs, placing her onto the counter. his hands groped her skin, ripping her black fishnets. "fuck." y/n moaned, her bangs sticking to her now sweaty forehead. he smirked, rolling her skirt up onto her hips, looking down at her deep red, lacy thong. "such a good girl, all for me." he gently moved her thong to the side, dipping a finger into her wetness.

"fuck, you're so wet already. jesus." he blasphemed, his thumb circling her clit. she moaned out in pleasure, reaching her arms out to land around his neck. her nails scratched up and down his back, making euronymous groan. he shoved two fingers into her aching hole, making her let out a downright pornographic moan. "shit, oh my god." euronymous smirked, "there's no gods in here, baby. just me." he curled his finger inside of her, hitting that sweet spot that made her toes curl, and her eyes roll back.

"shit, please. please. i need you." she begged, her hands tangled in his hair. "say it again. say my name, euronymous." he said, she whimpered. "please, euronymous. i need you." he rubbed her clit, driving her over the edge. "awh, that's just not gonna cut it, sweet girl. what do you need? use your words." he teased, she groaned. "your cock. please." she pleaded, and he smiled.

he unbuckled his belt, unzipping his black jeans. she moved a hand down to her pussy, he immediately swatted it away. "no, you fucking slut. stop. do i have to tie you up? hm?" she shook her head, "good girl." he pulled his dick out of his underwear, stroking it a few times, precum coated the tip. he then ragged her hair, making her yelp. euronymous bent her over the counter, guiding his dick towards her cunt, dragging it between her folds. "euronymous, please." she begged again, he slapped her ass, slipping into her hole. "fuck, you're so tight." she moaned out, his length filling her up.

he instantly began moving, drilling into her pussy, giving her no time to adjust to his size. "oh my god!" she screamed, as he roughed the flesh of her thighs, before his hands gripped her hips violently, for sure leaving handprints. "yeah, that's right bitch. i'm your god." he groaned out, one of his hands gripping onto the necklace, pulling it. she felt an unfamiliar feeling in her stomach, one that her boyfriend could have never given her. "shit, fuck. euro- i'm close." he pounded harder into her, abusing her pussy. "don't fuckin' cum till i say you can." he commanded, she whimpered and whined. "shut the fuck up!" he yelled, gripping onto her hair.

tears pricked her eyes, sobs racked throughout her body. "oh you gonna cry? you think that's gonna make me feel bad? shut up and fucking take it, whore." she gasped, he slapped her ass again, as she felt a knot form in her stomach. "please, i can't! s'too much!" he felt his own orgasm taking over him, as she clenched around his dick.

"fuck, go ahead, baby. cum for me." euronymous insisted, his dick twitched inside of her, as they came in unison. he groaned into her ear, kissing down her neck, leaving multiple hickeys. "good girl, you were so good for me." he whispered sweet words into her ear, rubbing his hands over her waist and hips. he pulled his clothes back on, before pulling her panties back up, and pulling her over his shoulder. "what are you doing?" she managed to whisper-yell out. "m' gonna clean you up." he responded, she sighed softly, as he lay her down on the basement couch.

he wet a flannel, cleaning her thighs up, his cum still oozing down them. he grabbed one of his t-shirts for her to wear, ushering her to stand up, so he could slip it over her head. he sat lay down next to her, his head on her chest, listening to her heart beat. "you did so well, sweetheart. i'm so proud of you." he spoke, reaching her hand up to his lips, gently kissing her knuckles.

"y/n, where are you?" the two heard a voice shout from upstairs, "you can't fucking leave me, you bitch!" he continued. euronymous' eyebrows knitted together, his jaw clenched. "you just let that cunt speak to you like that?" y/n shrugged, a frown visible on her face. "no, fuck no. you're a sweet girl, y/n. i wont let anything happen to you, okay? you're not going anywhere with him, ever again." euronymous stood up, "ronymous' baby, where are you going?" y/n questioned, following after him.

she stopped in her tracks, hearing the yells of her, now ex, boyfriend, and the yells of euronymous. let's just say, her ex never stepped foot in that store again.

i love writing for euronymous, pls send requests!!!

#euronymous #euronymous x reader #dead mayhem #mayhem band #øystein aarseth #sid vicious x reader #mayhem fanart #corruption kink #degredation kink #like #female reader #rory culkin #rory culkin x reader

[performativezippers]

here's some random writing advice that i've found helpful, in no order, that i reserve the right to add to at any time:

no one says everything they're thinking. in dialogue, less is more. people don't speak in paragraphs, they speak in sentences, especially when they're not telling a story. let the dialogue be brief, and use interiority (thoughts) to show the reader all the things they aren't saying.

use physical cues to help the POV character understand what the non-POV character is thinking/feeling/not saying/lying about. For example, if we're in Jane's POV while Maura is talking, and Maura says "I'm fine," Jane can notice that her eyes are darting around like she's anxious, or she's crossed and uncrossed her arms, almost like she's nervous. there's no need to say MAURA SEEMS NERVOUS, let the reader get it from what Jane's picking up.

let the reader be curious—don't info dump—but don't frustrate them by giving so little that they don't know what's going on. this is a very very fine line sometimes, and betas can be really helpful for pointing it out until you've gotten the feel for it.

Use paragraph breaks, for the love of god.

Only italicize things that really and truly cannot be explained any other way. "What are you doing here?" for example doesn't need any italics. If you can't get the reader to understand what you mean without the italics, then, sure, use them. but SPARINGLY. use body language, interiority, other words, and dialogue tags (shouts, yells, whispers, cries, she says as her voice cracks) to get the reader what they need.

"What are you doing here?" could be "what on earth are you doing here?" (aka, i have no fucking idea why you're here, my dude)

"What are you doing here?" could be "i told you to stay out of this, lucy! what are you doing here?" (aka, lucy you specifically should not be here)

"What are you doing here?" could be "jesus, you scared the shit out of me! I thought you were at the front! what are you doing here?" (aka, i'm not surprised to see you, but i'm surprised to see you HERE what the fuck)

Don't head hop. Know who's POV you're in and STAY IN IT until the chapter break, scene change that's clearly indicated by ***, whatever. if this is challenge, try writing in first person to get in the habit of only knowing what your POV character knows. There is, of course, 3rd person omniscient narration, but it's really fucking hard to pull off and honestly I recommend staying away from it entirely. Most things you'll read are written in first or close 3rd, and that's not an accident.

Let your characters move around in space. let them notice the things around them.

If Kate walks into a room, i'll probably list what she sees in order of importance, unless it's a big reveal. i'll add voice to that so you'll know i did it on purpose.

in order of appearance: "the body lies in the middle of the big, wide room. the ceiling must be twenty feet up, and there are plenty of windows, the way the light catches the falling dust mites looks more like a church than a crime scene."

with reveal/voice: "Kate bursts into the room and immediately skids to a stop. it's too bright, all white walls and high windows. it looks like the kind of room you'd put a WeWork in, or maybe a super expensive soulcycle. normally Kate would be itching for a paint roller and some blueprints, but today she ignores the terrible architectural choices, choosing to focus instead on the dead body congealing in a puddle of dark brown blood in the middle of the floor."

try to have an internal plot/obstacle (alex can't be honest with maggie about their relationship because she hasn't told her that her sister is superhero) and external plot/obstacle (there is a serial killer targeting aliens in national city, and all three women are on his radar). Best practice is for them to intersect and create layered, complex problems (maggie can't understand why alex is so fucking freaked out about this serial killer in the first act; yes, crime is bad, but like, it's their job? why won't alex TALK to her? where does she keep running off to in secret? does alex even actually want to be with her??)

Everything should have: tension, stakes, obstacles. Try not to make all of that hinge on a misunderstanding or one person being too chicken to confess their feelings. that gets boring and frustrating for the reader.

If you need to make a calendar, make one. If you need a cast list, write one. keep yourself on track.

introduce new original characters slowly. give them one name (first and last is usually not necessary at the start). give us one or two things to remember about them. Jenna is the producer of the tv show. Jenna is mean. the next time she comes back, call her "jenna the producer." then the next time you can hint to her role, like "jenna has her big clipboard and is shouting at everyone to get the fucking cameras ready." if jenna doesn't come back again, don't name her. be kind to your readers who forget things, and help them out by limiting the named cast to people who need to be named. if they don't show up until halfway through, don't introduce them until halfway through. for fanfic, obviously this is easier because we know everyone, but still, please. only have the people in the scene who need to be there. huge scenes with 5-8+ characters present are a MESS.

if your character has two best friends who fill the same role, cut one. streamline so i as the reader have less to keep track of.

banter can be fun to write, but dialogue without movement, choreography, internal thoughts, lies, physical cues, and plot movement gets really boring to read. if a scene is skippable, ask yourself what would make it essential, and add that.

every conversation should do at least two things. things can be:

move the plot forward

deepen, change, or complexify an existing relationship

create tension (plot, romance, etc)

explore stakes

attempt to get over the obstacle

FOR EXAMPLE: Helena and Myka almost kissing when they shouldn't because Helena is with Some Dude? yes! that's romantic tension and attempting to get over the obstacle (some dude). Myka rambling to claudia about almost kissing helena for 3 pages: no! That does nothing on this list. the event already happened, and a long debrief about it isn't interesting to the reader. Let Myka ruminate while she's doing one of the other things. and by ruminate, i mean KEEP A LIGHT TOUCH HERE, ruminating is very very easy to make boring and maudlin. trust your reader; be subtle about it.

#writing advice #on writing #writing fiction #writing original fiction #writing fanfiction

[exmotranny]

the green carpet scratches at your pink heels. bile rises in your throat.

they talk about womanhood- but it’s not quite right. there is the pink and compliments and talk of boys

i am a beloved daughter

but there is also something else. it digs at your flesh, it feasts on your skin. your mother motions at your chest, bigger than hers and you're not even done growing yet! how lucky.

of heavenly parents

you pray to a man every night, finish it in another’s name. on your knees. you were sent a shady link as a kid. the woman on her knees, tears streaming out of her eyes, i don't want this, she said

with a divine nature and eternal destiny

blood on the inside of your underwear. you were told this meant you were a woman now. you were ten years old. what the fuck did you know about being a woman? your mom said you weren’t allowed to touch between your legs, but it's normal to want to. you didn't know what that meant, either.

as a disciple of jesus christ,

you wanted to be desired. you daydreamed of being the trophy for boys around you, of claiming that role one day as a wife. you came from a long line of women married young. you don’t know their names, but you were taught about their husbands in church.

i strive to become like him.

pressing your breasts down as much as possible, trying to give the illusion of a flat chest. badly cropped jpgs of jesus photoshopped to have top surgery scars are the secret currency you pay to get past the hours of church. you hold them like diamonds.

i seek and act upon personal revelation

you thought god was talking to you. you almost threw away everything you owned. you thought you were a prophet. total fuckin’ ego death! holy shit! god speaks through me!

and minister to others in his holy name

and then the next morning. when your faith crashed, when moroni abandoned you, did it feel unreal to you too, joseph?

i will stand as a witness of god

oh god, no. please. i don’t know what’s real anymore.

at all times

leg hair peeking from under your pretty sunday dress. they all stare. you ignore them and open up to D&C 132.

and in all things

emma, did you love him to the end? i don’t think you wanted him. did you watch as he married a 14 year old? did you tell him you burned the commandment? did you cry when he died for the church that he loved more than he loved you?

and in all places.

blood on the floor of carthage jail. this martyr will be remembered forever. do they talk about you, emma? or are you just joseph’s wife?

as i strive to qualify for exaltation,

when i marry, my husband will be a god, and i shall cleave onto him. when i marry, i will go to his universe and bear more of his children.

i cherish the gift of repentance

heads bowed low as the sacrament is passed. my hands clutch onto the bottom of my skirt. pleasure outside celestial marriage is forbidden. i apologize for loving the wrong way.

and seek to improve each day

i tried to kill myself, last time i got home from girl’s camp. i got home and cried and found the pills and shoved them into my mouth until i cried more and more until i was gagging. i hunched over the toilet. my hands on the grimy floor.

with faith, i will

forced to sing in front of the congregation. my head spun from anxiety. my stomach turned with nausea.

strengthen my home and family,

loving wife beautiful kids loyal husband church once a week work weekdays weekend mom monthly round on the business end of his cock forever and the vomit threatens to make an appearance.

make and keep sacred covenants,

an old man is in a room alone with me. he asks me if i masturbate.

and receive the ordinances and blessings

i tell the man no. i receive a card so i can be ordained.

of the holy temple.

that's just how it goes, isn't it?

all around are paintings of god and jesus. we learned about heavenly mother. why don’t i see her in paintings? did god have plural marriages? did heavenly mother make us? why don’t we pray to her? did she watch god marry a 14 year old? did she cover her eyes? when she saw blood on her underwear, was she told she was a woman? did she touch between her legs? did she ever believe herself better than god? does she cry when she cant talk to us? why do i cry? was heavenly mother scared of singing in public and did she press her chest flat and did she cry when god forced himself into her mouth? did she burn his doctrine too?

i am given flowers on mother’s day. i will be one eventually, after all. and i vomit in the church bathroom quietly like the perfect woman i am supposed to be.

#okay this one is a doozy. will prolly regret writing +posting an unhinged rant at midnight but whatever #lmk if i forget to tag something #ill edit in the morning im sleepy #vent #mine #poetry #spilled ink #exmo #exmormon #pimo #ex christian #transgender #transmasc #tw emetophobia #tw emeto ment #tw suicide #tw sui ment #tw sa implied #i am so fuckin tired. if ur wondering what someone writes while sleep deprived after stress studying all day for an ap test. this is it #fuck it not even reading over this once. whatever. into the void #all spelling mistakes are between myself and god #long post

[samgirl98]

Mending a Family 35/?

Prev | Next

When Jason was young, there had been no Christmas tree or decorations. They had been too poor for that. As Willis used to say, would you rather be warm or have useless shit lying around? Funnily enough, he always had money for booze.

 His mom, Catherine, used to take him to midnight mass every Christmas Eve. He used to love to go, not because he believed in God, but because he could spend time with his mom in a warm building. Even though his mother had sounded off-key while she sang Christmas carols, Jason thought she had sounded like an angel. The church would always be decorated for Christmas, and, at least for a little while, he could pretend he was like every other family, spending a Merry Christmas.

Christmas days didn’t have gifts, but his mom would give him gingerbread cookies while Willis slept off his hangover.

Then Willis had been arrested, money had become tighter, and his beautiful mother had fallen hard for drugs. The last few Christmases with Catherine Todd had not been spent in a church but in a rundown apartment while Jason cared for her.

Bruce was ethnically Jewish but not a practicing one. He didn’t observe the Sabbath, go to a synagogue, or celebrate any Jewish holidays. The only thing he did was light up his mother’s menorah every year.

He also ate Chinese food on Christmas day while waiting for Alfred’s dinner.

Jason’s first Christmas with Bruce had been full of decorations, with a massive tree with mountains of presents stuffed beneath it. Jason had had fun decorating with Alfred. Even Bruce had helped. Dick hadn’t shown up to celebrate Christmas with them. That year, Jason had fallen in love with Christmas. Not because of the presents, but because he had spent it with people he loved and who loved him back.

The following year, it had been spent in front of Titans Tower. He had wanted to bring Dick back home as a present for Bruce. It hadn’t panned out. The last Christmas in Wayne Manor had been celebrated with Dick, Bruce, and Alfred. There had been tension between Bruce and Dick, but they had put their differences aside.

The following year, Jason had gotten himself blown up. He didn’t know if he had been alive for that Christmas or not.

After that, he was in Nanda Parbat or out learning how to kill. Then came his explosive return to Gotham.

The whole point was that Jason hadn’t thought about Christmas in years. It was just another day alone.

This year, it was different. He had Danny, his son. He had a younger sister and two nieces. An older brother and an older sister. He had been tentatively excited. Then Jazz had sat him down and told him how much Danny hated Christmas. There was a lot of trauma around the holiday because the Fenton parents used to fight over the existence of Santa Claus, of all things.  

So before decorating, he had asked his son if he wanted to do Christmas or not. His little boy had hummed and asked if there would be any fighting.

The question had broken Jason’s heart.

“No, chum, no fighting allowed.”

“Good, cuz ghosts have the annual truce during Christmas time.”

(Jason filed that tidbit of information for later and had asked Ghost Writer about it.)

“Okay, if there’s no fighting or turkeys coming to life to kill me, then yeah, why not?”

Jason had blinked at the turkey bit. The fuck?

So, for the first time in a long time, Jason celebrated Christmas again.

They hadn’t gone all out. Jason had bought a small tinsel tree and put some wrapped gifts under it. There wouldn’t be a big dinner (Alfred cooked a huge dinner for the family) or Christmas carols. The only decoration they put up was a wreath at the door.

They never once mentioned Santa Claus.

Neither Roy, Lian, nor Raven came over. They had other traditions and people to hang out with. Jason had understood. In a way, it had been a good thing. He didn’t want to overwhelm Danny.

On Christmas morning, the little family opened the presents in pajamas and then spent the day watching Christmas movies and drinking hot chocolate. Instead of cooking, Jason ordered carry-out.

That night, while he tucked Danny into bed, Danny thanked him.

“For what, chum?”

“For giving me the best Christmas I’ve ever had.”

Jason kissed his little boy’s forehead and went to bed. It hadn’t been extravagant, but it had been a good Christmas.

Merry Christmas

@itsberrydreemurstuff @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @skulld3mort-1fan @theauthorandtheartist @emergentpanda-blog @jaggedheart11 @fisticuffsatapplebees @booberrylizard @fantasticbluebirdfan @thegatorsgooseoose @cyrwrites @kjoboo91 @crystallicedart @amaramizuki666 @spekulatiusmuffin @meira-3919 @kilasmess @bubblemixer @lexdamo @wonderland-daisy @mj-arts-n-stuff @amyheart19 @dolfay @the-church-grimm @undead-essence @aph-mable @lizisipancardo @purrloin77 @writer-extraodinaire @charlietheepic7 @sinfulloccultist @nootherusernameworked @coruscateselene @chaoticchange @itsberrydreemurstuff @gmkelz11 @feral-bunny31 @paroovian @thatonegaybitch68 @d4ydr34min9 @overtherose @fandomwandererer @vipower001 @thordottir45 @blackrabbitt3t @rosecinnamonbun @bianca-hooks123 @epilepticnerd @dat1angel @consouling @flamingenchiladadragon @all-mights-asscheeks @ender-reader @fuyu-bitch @ravenswife

#mending a family #dc x dp #dp x dc

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being Matt Murdock’s child (Part 4)

Matt Murdock x child!reader

warnings:

a/n: thank you guys so much for waiting patiently for this!!! (except for that one anon who got an attitude with me for not writing this fast enough for them if you’re reading this, learn some manners) anyways, so glad that i finally finished daredevil, now i just gotta push through the last few defenders shows (and catch up on everything else i’ve missed in the past year. haha. fuck.

prompt:

part 1 part 2 part 3

everything was just so shitty.

you had to hold it together and pretend like your dad was just on a very long work trip

it wasn’t like you didn’t plan for this. i mean, you had a dozen notes in his handwriting ready for any occasion, just in case something unexpected happened

to whom it may concern, i have been hired by a client residing in california for an undisclosed amount of time. i will be leaving my child, y/n murdock, in the care of their godfather, franklin nelson. due to my condition, i have granted mr. nelson legal permission to make decisions on y/n’s behalf if i am ever unable to, including this period in time. if you have any questions, please call. matthew murdock.

you read that page over and over again while foggy shuffled around your dad’s apartment, gathering all of your stuff and anything of your dad’s you’d want to hang onto

“you know, marci is fixing up the guest room to be more…you. i think when you see it you’re gonna love it” -foggy

you were half spaced out trying to wrap your head around everything

and you were still so pissed off

it made foggy feel even more guilty

“i got their father killed. if i didn’t bring him that suit, given him my blessing, he’d still be here to raise his kid” -foggy

“you’re being too hard on yourself, foggy bear. the others made it out, he chose to stay. that’s not on you” -marci

“it doesn’t feel like that. i mean, every time i look at y/n i feel like they blame me” -foggy

“blame you? y/n loves you. you’ve always been there for them and they are well aware of that” -marci

you kind of hated karen for a while

i know it’s harsh, but almost every time you saw her, she wanted to give you hope instead of helping you grieve

“maybe he’s still out there somewhere, sweetie” -karen, attempting an embrace

you just wanted her to ditch your old apartment and let you move on with what you had left

on a more lighthearted note, you’d always been welcome in the nelson family

“y/n! honey, come here! lord, foggy, y/n looks like you’ve been starvin’ them!” -foggy’s mom

“aw, no, uncle foggy’s—” -you

“nonsense, dear. theo! fix your lovely [niece/nephew/nibling] a sandwich!” -momma nelson

“mom—” -foggy

“don’t even start, y/n’s in our kitchen now. the nelson meats kitchen”

you always felt best surrounded by all that love

meanwhile, your father laid in the church you grew up with. and no intention of calling you up

“matthew, your child. where are they?” -sister maggie

“they’re safe, safer than they’ve ever been” -matt

you had your days ever since midland circle’s collapse though

some days you could be okay, just getting by. you knew deep down you’d be losing him soon, and you were well prepared

other days were violent fits of rage and sorrow, punching bags and screaming and crying

and a time or two, you’d do it in front of foggy

“he left me! he left me for her and he didn’t even say goodbye! and i’m supposed to forgive him?! fuck him, he chose to do this to me, he’s a piece of shit and he i’m glad he’s gone!” -you, screaming through sobs in the middle of the night

foggy would grab you so tight and wouldn’t let go until you were calm again

and marci would cry to herself as she listened, not fully able to process all of your emotions

but she tried as best as she could, she just didn’t have the deep bond you and foggy did (but she definitely did everything she could for you)

she’d have lil lunch dates with you, just you two

“foggy tells me you got another 100 on your test? that’s always a good thing, especially in a class as tough as that” -marci

“yeah, foggy’s kind of my cheerleader when it comes to that stuff” -you

“any ideas for the day? i could take you to a salon or a game…maybe an arcade or a movie?” -marci

honestly you couldn’t express to her how much she really helped you get through the day

foggy and theo came up with the idea to hire you at the sandwich shop, that way you had something to keep you busy and foggy felt less pressured to help out there

it did help get your mind off things—until little whispers of a familiar vigilante started popping up

the day foggy found out matt was still alive…he wanted to kill him for you

“you’re back! does karen know? oh, matt, y/n’s gonna be so happy, they—they’ve been so down since it all happened—” -foggy

“slow down, foggy. i’m…not actually back. matt murdock, he’s gone” -matt

foggy started to get very frustrated by matt’s explanation

“hold on just a second here, matt. your child—for months on end—has been grieving the loss of their father, wishing they could have him back. i’ve done everything i can to keep that kid afloat, destroyed myself watching them fall apart…and you’re not even gonna consider seeing y/n?” -foggy, beginning to raise his voice and hit the table

“they’re safer without me. just keep them far away from fisk. please.” -matt

foggy didn’t even want to mention it to you. he felt awful keeping secrets from you, but knowing your father was out there and wouldn’t see you? after sacrificing himself for elektra? you’d be a mess

but it didn’t stay secret for long once you and foggy were questioned together by the FBI

you kept cool about it in front of agent nadeem, playing along just right. but once that door closed

“he’s alive?! he’s alive and you just didn’t tell me?! and he met with you, why the hell hasn’t he seen me yet?!” -you, weakly trying to attack foggy as you began to cry, he pulled you in for a hug

“i’m sorry, kid. i’m so sorry. i don’t have a lot of answers right now” -foggy

“where is he? i want to see him” -you

you knew the moment you saw him you’d unleash hell

matt did feel guilty not reuniting with you, you were his only child and you just experienced the same pain he had as a child, but he kept justifying it as “protecting you” much to the sister’s dismay

and plans were hashed not long after, you were left out of them all and put under marci’s care

chinese takeout and a tv show marathon was a great plan until you both picked up your phones, shocked to see an attack going on where your friends and family were supposed to be

you were terrified, but you saw marci terrified, too. you were there for her the same way she always was for you

things blew over, you got out of the house to clear your head

matt went back to the church, still hellbent on ending all this

“matthew…i think you should see y/n. think of all they’ve been through, to see you again would, well, it would be a blessing” -sister maggie

“i have to keep them as far away from this as i can” -matt

“they won’t get too far, being a murdock and all. it’s not just your nature, it’s the name. that name is being thrown around everywhere, maybe you could do the protecting this once” -maggie

“can’t risk it, especially not after this imposter daredevil is on the loose. no morals, no self control, he’s dangerous” -matt

“matthew, what would you do if your father ended up being alive after believing he was gone for so long?” -maggie

that happened to put things into perspective, just the one question

unfortunately he got a bit sidetracked overhearing the prayers of maggie, his mother

but matt couldn’t run or hide from you anymore, couldn’t demand foggy keep you away

so he showed up at foggy’s apartment, knocking on the door gently as he knew you were the only one home

when you looked through the peephole, you saw a battered version of your dad, nothing changes

but you flung that door open so fast and…punched him in the chest a dozen times

“you—piece of shit—motherfucker—how could you?! i hate you! i hate you! selfish asshole!” -you

he let it happen, he thought it’d make you feel better until you wore yourself out

“where the hell were you?” -you, sobbing

“doesn’t matter, i’m here now” -matt

“no, you aren’t. you always have something else come up. always” -you

what an inconvenient time for his phone to ring

you heard the message, you knew he had to be somewhere

that was the first time you felt in the loop in a while, though. hearing the message of where he needed to be. that was all you wanted, was to know what was going on. it was the tiny bit of control you needed

there was nothing glamorous about this life, for sure. the idea of him being out there still made you sick.

fogwell’s gym was the next place you saw him, with agent nadeem and foggy

“really exciting being on fisk’s shitlist, huh?” -you to nadeem, fidgeting with old equipment

“cut it out, y/n” -matt

“what? this isn’t our first time around the block, that’s why we’re hiding here” -you

it’d been a while since you’d been here, you used to hang out cuz “abandoned shit is cool”

you were currently taking your anger and anxiety out on a punching bag, revisiting your old karate lessons from way back when

*while talking testimony with nadeem and foggy* “that is…so distracting. hang on, let me just—” -matt, stopping when his arm was grabbed

“no, they need this. leave it alone” -foggy

matt sighed an nodded, feeling like he was in no place to parent at the moment

karen decided to stand with you and watch

“so…you were right” -you

“you don’t seem too happy about that” -karen

“believe me, wish i could be. but do you recognize him? like, really?” -you

“i…i know. he’s changed. but maybe once this all blows over…i think he’ll go back to himself. be a friend—a dad again” -karen

“sure as hell not to me” -you, scoffing “he’s done picking and choosing when he can be my father. i was always supposed to come first”

karen understood. she knew exactly what you meant and she felt it so deeply, but she wanted for you what she couldn’t have anymore

you hadn’t stopped hitting the punching bag as you talked to her

“can i get it a whirl?” -karen

she got a few good hits in, they were noticed by present company

from there, you stuck with foggy. the least likely of the bunch to get shot!

and court did not go spectacularly either, making you feel just as on edge as before

“y/n, listen, i’m not gonna let anyone hurt you. have they ever gotten to you before? no, and it’s gonna stay that way” -matt, cupping your face in his hands to hold as if it were the last, which it was starting to feel that way for the both of you

“you’re not good at promises. you’re gonna leave again” -you, tears beginning to stream down your face

“no, no. well, yeah, for a little bit. it’s fine, y/n, we’re gonna be fine. i love you, okay?” -matt

foggy took you home and you just shut down again. and although there was a LOT of work to do, marci and foggy always made time for you

“y/n, foggy’s making dinner. you wanna help me make dessert? i’m thinking…cupcakes?” -marci

“do we have the good frosting?” -you

“of course, kiddo, i’d never let us run out” -marci, winking

she got a smile out of you and you rushed to the kitchen with her, which lifted both of their spirits of course

but nothing could be calm forever, bodies dropped every minute and you could only wonder “was that my dad?”

and lord help him, he asked for it every day

especially when, after a few more issues arose, he marched straight into the presidential hotel with faux-daredevil

“you…you keep my secret…keep away from my friends…my kid!” -matt

“heh…your kid. ever think they’re gonna follow in your footsteps? you’ll be long gone, i’ll still be here. with them. maybe they’ll be out for revenge, who knows?” -fisk

“you say anything else, vanessa goes down with you. it’s over, fisk. now swear to me, my kid is safe!” -matt

“i swear…just leave vanessa out of it, i’ll leave y/n out of it” -fisk, surrendering

you were watching the news as it happened, stunned, shocked, in awe. it was better than the last time

“foggy let me drink last time they put fisk away” -you

“jesus, weren’t you like, thirteen?” -marci “i mean, now’s fine, that’s about the age i started partying. what the hell? i’ll get the good stuff out. just a little bit though, dont get your hopes up”

(it was like four “little bits” but you weren’t complaining)

you knew it was coming and you acted surprised anyways

“y/n. i am the shittiest dad in the world” -matt

“well aware” -you, arms crossed after he started the conversation that way

“just another chance. i wanna be your dad, i wanna be there for you, you’re like, the best kid anyone could ask for. foggy’s gotta feel pretty lucky having you around” -matt

“last time i gave you another chance to be in my life, you gave it up for elektra. a second time—third if. you count law school” -you

“she’s gone, out of the picture. died under midland circle” -matt, sort of comically waving her off in front of you like he was over it

“yeah? you survived it. and she came back from the dead. how do i know she isn’t gonna pop up out of nowhere again and ruin our relationship again” -you

“i can’t stress enough how little everything matters compared to you right now. i’ll do anything, y/n. i can’t lose you again” -matt

god, you were angry with every word that came out of this mouth. same old spiel. but then again

“i don’t wanna lose you again” -you

matt grinned at you

“i bet you’re smiling back at me” -matt

“you’re on really thin ice, like paper thin. you better cut it out” -you

“that’s fair, i’ll stop…for now” -matt

you did have to go to father lanthom’s funeral, which was a drag. you may not have asked him for as much forgiveness as your dad, but he was still a pretty big part of your life

“hey, y/n. i know i forgot to mention this…but sister maggie? you know her, she’s around. i just found out she’s your grandmother” -matt

“good one” -you, pretending to laugh. matt didn’t laugh though. “you’re not joking? man, you’re telling me that nun is your mom…and you found out when?”

you all went to nelson’s meats afterwards

“so, you make a mean sandwich, i heard” -matt

“im off the clock” -you “and i don’t serve the blind”

“wow, dark! you know that’s discrimination, right? we could take you to court over that. nelson, murdock and page’s first case?” -foggy

“ok, noted. no more blind jokes…is it sound if i don’t serve vigilantes?” -you

“yeah, it’d hold up better in court. having the right to refuse service to anyone” -matt

“hold on, i still can’t get over the fact y/n just said they hate blind people” -karen, nearly snorting

“did not! i’ve only historically hated to blind people…” -you, being stared at for an answer “stick? right, you know?”

“who?” -karen

“alright, can we get back to mourning with nelson’s meats? i mean, we work hard to bury those sorrows in your stomachs” -foggy

“hey! that can be the new slogan!” -you “and your new law firm’s can be ‘we sue teenagers’”

these happened to be your people. no matter what you all went through, you always ended up back here.

BONUS

“can i meet him? spiderman? pleaaaase?” -you

“how many times have we been over this. i didn’t let you meet jessica and i’m not gonna let you meet peter, do you want me to get disbarred?” -matt

BONUS (PT2)

“you’re coming back to new york, right?” -you, over the phone

“of course i am, i told you i just owed a favor to someone out here, i’ll be home soon” -matt

“foggy says that he will take me back if you bail again, and he doesn’t care if i’m legally an adult either” -you

“well, too bad, he can’t have you” -matt

“please don’t tell me you and the she-hulk lady are quote-unquote, ‘friends’” -you

“how do you do that?” -matt

“you’re predictable” -you

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