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ohproserpine · 4 months

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i. deer dolly

part i | part ii | more | ao3 tags: fem! reader, reader is a performer in a speakeasy, human! possibly ooc! alastor so he's a bit more "tame" here, allusions to murder and such, unsettling & obsessive behavior, written before episode 7; may become inaccurate, gorey-ish descriptions of love

"So what?" Angel Dust hummed, drumming his nails on the counter. "You and Alastor are like... friends?"

"Oh, well, that ain't the word I would’ve used, but it's something like that!" Mimzy chirped, reaching for her drink and downing it in one go. "He used to frequent the club I had! In fact, that’s where he met his wife—"

“Wife?!” Angel Dust cut her off, jaw dropping. “Freaky face is married?”

“Oh yeah,” Mimzy hummed, waving her hand around. “Under all that murder and cannibalism, he’s a total sap! Can't blame him, I mean—his wife is a doll! Me an' her used to perform together!”

"An’ how come I never heard of this? People ain't told me shit!" Angel Dust grumbled, turning to Husk behind the counter. "You knew 'bout this, whiskers?"

"Yeah. They were together back in the living. But don't even think of bringing it up in front of Alastor. He gets all heated," Husk grumbled, grabbing a towel to wipe down Mimzy’s now-empty glass. The cat then turned to grab another bottle off the shelf, a grimace on his lips. "I would know."

Angel Dust leaned forward, resting his face on his folded hands. "Well, ain't that something. Never knew he even had one of those."

Mimzy cackled, her voice a raspy melody that echoed through the smoky air of the bar as she snatched the bottle of liquor away from Husk’s paws. "Oh, honey, you wouldn’t even know how deep it goes. They go way back."

"Spill," Angel Dust grinned, curiosity getting the better of him.

Mimzy leaned in, looking both ways to make sure Alastor or his shadows weren't around before lowering her voice. "It was back in the day, at my joint. Alastor dropped by for the bootlegs, you know? But then he caught sight of her. She was singin’ and dancin’ on stage, a real heartbreaker. He couldn't resist the charm, and boom, he was struck on! Ever since then, he came around as frequently as he could. Made me so much money~"

Angel Dust raised an eyebrow, his long lashes fluttering as he squished his cheek against his palm, a coy smirk playing on his lips. "And you were part of this love saga?"

Mimzy shook her head, a wicked glint dancing in her eyes before she lifted the bottle to her lips and downed its contents in one swift motion, her throat working as she swallowed. "Oh, sugar, just a witness to the drama. Those two lovebirds had their own dance going on. I just spiced things up."

Angel Dust chuckled, shaking his head. "Never thought smiles had it in him."

"Again. He likes to keep his shit private. So, don't go running your mouth unless you wanna be on the receiving end of one of his… episodes," Husk interrupted, his gruff voice breaking through the conversation as he leaned over the counter and reclaimed the bottle from Mimzy with a low growl.

Angel hummed dismissively, his golden tooth catching the glimmer of the bar lights as he spoke. “Anyone could've guessed that. Where is she, anyways? I haven't seen or heard of her since day one."

"Busy," Mimzy snorted, her finger lazily tracing the rim of her glass. She leaned back in her seat, the dim glow of the bar lights casting shadows across her features. "That's where."

“Really?" Angel's brow lifted in skepticism, his boot lightly kicking against the base of Mimzy's chair. "Busy? That’s it?”

Mimzy shrugged, her lips curling into a sly smile. "Can't tell ya much. Y'know Alastor doesn't like sharin'. Secrets and shadows, that's his game."

“Aww c'mon, tits,” Angel grinned, his golden tooth glinting beneath the bar lights with each word. “You gotta know more than you let on. It'll be our secret.”

"Well," Mimzy drawled, savoring the suspense as she tapped a gloved finger against her cheek. "I guess I can tell you a lil’ something about how they met…”

Alastor found himself standing in the heart of a secluded corner of town.

A desolate, dimly lit street stretched out before him, raindrops rhythmically tapping on the worn concrete beneath his feet.

It was something he had never imagined—searching for a speakeasy in this far-off locale. Rarely did he have time for himself. Most of his days were dedicated to caring for his mother, his job as a radio host, and any free time he had was reserved for his… hobbies. But he supposed a change of scenery wouldn't hurt.

Adjusting his glasses, he gazed up at the timeworn, ragged sign of a barbershop that read, "Chum’s Clippers."

Charming.

With a roll of his eyes, the radio host stepped into the worn-down establishment, visibly grimacing at the shop's decrepit condition. His eyes surveyed the room, settling on a young blonde woman.

Perched on the edge of the registrar counter, a cigar dangled between her cherry-red lips, the tendrils of smoke curling upwards in lazy spirals. Her legs crossed provocatively, causing the fabric of her dress to ride up her thighs, revealing more skin than what civil society would allow.

As soon as she caught sight of Alastor's silhouette, a spark of excitement lit up her features, and she greeted him with an animated wave.

"Hey there, mistah! Names Mimzy!" she chirped with a friendly lilt. Her crimson-painted nails plucked the cigarette from her lips, trailing a wisp of smoke as she gestured toward Alastor. "Whatcha here for?"

"Pleasure to meet you," Alastor smiled back and stepped closer, offering her a bow of his head, “Quite a pleasure. You see, I was just strolling through these darling streets, and wouldn't you know it? The whispers in the wind pointed me straight to you, the gal in the know when it comes to bootlegs. Care to confirm?"

‘A potential client?" Mimzy thought, her smirk hidden behind her hand as she took one last puff, the cherry of her cigar glowing brightly before she flicked it into an ashtray. 'Straight to the point.'

"Well, well, mistah," she drawled with a playful twirl of her finger through her blonde curls. "You've got a nose for sniffin' out the good stuff, huh? Well, we might have a few things tucked away for the right kind of folk. But, sugar, we don't just give 'em to anyone.”

Alastor's smile widened as he smoothly fished out his wallet, giving it a theatrical wave. "I do have a penchant for fine libations, my dear. And I assure you, I'm just looking for a little taste of the local flavor, nothing more."

Mimzy's eyes sparkled with mischief as she perked up, eagerly hopping off the counter. The click of her heels echoed against the worn floor as she approached the tall man.

"You're in luck, then! Follow me, and we'll talk business in the back," she said, gesturing toward a concealed door at the back of the barbershop.

Alastor followed her through a narrow passage, which unveiled another door leading to the very speakeasy he’d heard talk of. The atmosphere changed instantly, lively jazz music filled the air, and the dimly lit space was alive with laughter and clinking glasses.

Mimzy guided Alastor to a private booth tucked away in a corner, where a polished bottle of bootleg whiskey awaited their arrival.

"Here's to unexpected encounters, mistah," she beamed, the words dripping with charm as she poured a generous measure into his glass. Alastor raised his glass in acknowledgment, his eyes glinting with amusement.

"To unexpected encounters," he echoed before taking a deep sip.

The whiskey was bitter and strong, yet there was a subtle sweetness that danced on his tongue, leaving behind a tantalizing warmth. It had been increasingly difficult to find such fine brews ever since the prohibition hit, making each sip all the more precious.

Seating himself comfortably, Alastor swirled the glass in his hand, mesmerized by the way the golden liquid caught the flickering candlelight. Beside him, Mimzy continued her lively chatter, her words accompanied by the persistent clinking of ice in their glasses as she refilled his drink, hoping to stack his bill higher with each pour.

As the room hummed with the soft, easy notes of a piano and the clinking of glasses, a sudden hush fell over the crowd as an announcer's voice sliced through the air.

"Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for the enchanting Dolly!"

Mimzy's excitement bubbled up even more, and she leaned in toward Alastor. "That's my sister! Well— not by blood, but you know, me and her are real, real close. One of my best performers here at the bar!"

"Is that so?" Alastor hummed, his eyes now alight with curiosity as he shifted his focus toward the stage.

In that moment, you stepped onto the platform, grabbing a hold of the standing microphone. With a subtle flick of your wrist, you directed attention to the dark-haired pianist, his fingers poised above the keys. A nod from you and the jazz ensemble sprung to life, setting the stage for your performance. As the spotlight enveloped you in a warm glow, a hushed silence fell over the speakeasy.

Folks, here's a story 'bout Minnie the Moocher She was a red hot hoochie-coocher She was the roughest, toughest frail But Minnie had a heart as big as a whale

The lyrics flowed easily through Alastor's mind, carried by the smooth, buttery tones of your voice that filled the air. The radio host found himself utterly hypnotized, his gaze never tearing from your form.

He could stare for hours, unabashed by any sense of shame—though, truth be told, he didn't possess much of that quality to begin with.

She messed around with a bloke named Smokey She loved him though he was kokey He took her down to Chinatown And he showed her how to kick the gong around

As Mimzy began clapping excitedly and waving her arms to beckon you over, Alastor's attention shifted. The final notes of the song echoed in the room, snapping him back to reality. In the haze of your performance, he hadn't even realized that the song had come to an end.

“What a gal!” Mimzy cackled, joyously wrapping her arms around you as you approached.

Alastor took a moment to study you with keen interest.

The dim lighting of the speakeasy lent a soft, ethereal glow to your figure as you moved, casting long shadows across the floor. A slender dress, shimmering with golden sequins, hugged your figure, shimmers and glitters catching the light. The dress boasted a daring low neckline, while its swaying boxed skirt gracefully fell just above your knees, accentuating your every movement. Complementing the ensemble were black kitten heels, their clicks and clacks adding a subtle rhythm to every step you took. Your hair, styled into a sleek bob, framed your demure features perfectly. Adorning your head was a headpiece adorned with golden yellow feathers and dark lace.

"Dollface, I want ya to meet Alastor!" Mimzy exclaimed, pulling you along and positioning you in front of him. “He’s new!”

With a wave of your hands and a warm smile, you tilted your head up to meet Alastor's gaze. The man standing before you was tall and slim, boasting broad shoulders. His white button-up clung perfectly to his frame, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing toned forearms adorned with scars, cuts, and prominent veins.

‘Must be a hunter or a butcher,’ you noted heatedly.

Short, side-swept brunette hair framed his face, adding a touch of rugged charm to his appearance, while rectangular glasses perched on the bridge of his nose lent him an air of intelligence. As he smiled, a chill crept down your spine, and an odd sinking sensation settled in your stomach.

There was an unsettling nature to him, a subtle aura that left you uncertain of whether your reaction stemmed from the eerie quality of his smile or if it was simply a flustered response to his strikingly handsome features.

“Pleasure to meet you, cher,” Alastor purred, turning on the charm. He delicately took your hand, pressing a kiss against your knuckles. In a subtle move, the radio host let his fingers linger over your skin, subtly checking for any sign of a ring. Noticing the absence, he filed the information away with a sly smile.

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance as well, sir,” you smiled, tucking your face behind your hand. Alastor observed with delight as a subtle blush painted your cheeks, a tacit acknowledgment that his presence had left an impression.

"Al here knows his way around a glass of whiskey like nobody else in these parts! Ain't that right, Al?" Mimzy chattered, her voice bubbling with familiarity as if she had known him for years and hadn't just met him one song and ten drinks ago.

Alastor chuckled, a low, melodic sound that sent your stomach doing flips. "

"Well, I do have a certain fondness for…" The radio host paused, his sharp, gaze raking up and down your form, his words trailing off. "…finer things in life."

A silence lingered in the air, and Mimzy, always attuned to the mood of a room, shot a knowing look between the two of you.

"Well, don't cha?" Mimzy exclaimed, her hands clapping with excitement. "If that's the case, then I'm sure Dolly would love to show you around here!"

"Is that so?" Alastor, maintaining that devilish smile, turned his attention back to you. "Well, what do you say, cher?" he questioned.

Tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, you met his gaze with a coy smile. "I'd be delighted to show you around. There's a lot more to this place than meets the eye."

Mimzy clapped her hands together. "Perfect! Now, why don't you two enjoy the rest of the night? I'll be right here waiting."

“Shall we?” Alastor offered his hand, gesturing to the dance floor.

With a small nod, you graciously accepted Alastor's outstretched hand, leading the way to the lively dance floor where the band played an upbeat tune. Around you, couples twirled in a dizzying dance, with heels tapping, shoes stomping, and skirts gracefully gliding and twirling. Alastor wasted no time, pulling you in and molding your form against his.

Looks were indeed deceiving, as despite his lean appearance, Alastor had no issue effortlessly tossing and spinning you round and round, lifting you as if you were as weightless as a feather. Each spin and dip was executed with skill, his footwork was a blur and soon enough, you found yourself willingly surrendering to the rhythm of his lead.

This man could fucking dance.

As the music gradually slowed, Alastor guided you to the side, providing a moment to catch your breath after the energetic routine.

"Thank you for the dance, cher! You are quite quick on your feet," Alastor chuckled, his voice low, blending with the fading echoes of the music.

"You're not too bad yourself," you managed between breaths, a raspy laugh escaping your lips. "Nobody's ever been able to keep up with me," you continued, running a hand through your tousled hair and adjusting your dress. "I think I was the one who had to keep up with you."

After ensuring you were presentable, you lifted a hand to fix Alastor's slightly damp locks, adjusting his glasses and tie. Alastor froze, a foreign sensation enveloping him. Despite his typical aversion to physical contact, there was an absence of the usual recoil in disdain this time.

"Looks like we're both a bit of a mess, aren't we?" you chuckled, a wry smile playing on your lips as you gracefully brushed away a speck of dust from his shirt.

Alastor blinked and eventually relaxed, allowing you to proceed without any resistance. "Quite."

While you continued to fix him up, Alastor couldn't help but feel a sense of bewilderment. He felt as though coils had entwined themselves around his heart. Slowly constricting, they didn't just tighten but twisted, sharp edges digging into muscle, squeezing his emotions into a thick syrup that spilled beyond the confines of his ribs, seeping out in a haunting shade of crimson through the cracks in his chest.

As the seconds passed, he paid no mind to your touch, shifting his focus to instead dissect you with his eyes. He scrutinized the subtle reactions playing across your face—the delicate twitches of your brows, the soft pout of your blood-red lips, and the scrunches of your nose.

What were you doing to him?

"There you go!" you announced, a note of satisfaction in your voice as you finished your task, your hand coming to rest briefly on his chest before retreating. "Ready to head back?"

Snapping out of his obsessive trance, Alastor emitted a soft hum, offering his arm to you. You gracefully accepted, intertwining your arm with his. The energetic atmosphere from the dance gradually subsided as you and Alastor made your way back to the private booth. Mimzy's mischievous grin awaited you as she rejoined your company.

"Looks like you two had quite the time!" she exclaimed, a twinkle in her eye.

Alastor quickly composed himself, nodding with a grin. "Indeed! It was quite a delightful dance."

Just as Alastor turned toward you, the insistent dings of a nearby clock echoed through the room. His expression shifted, a fleeting shadow of disappointment and ire crossing his face. The hours had danced away quicker than he had anticipated.

Undoubtedly, the night was still young for you, given that speakeasies often extended their festivities until the early hours of the morning.

However, as much as Alastor would adore the idea of continuing to enjoy your company, the weight of responsibilities at home tugged at him. He had his elderly mother waiting, relying on his care for her well-being, as well as an upcoming morning shift at the radio station.

"It's later than I realized, my dear," he admitted, his voice carrying a touch of regret. "I'm afraid I can't stay any longer. Duty calls, and the dawn awaits for my return."

Something twisted and snapped in Alastor's gut as he observed the unmistakable disappointment etched across your features, evident in the downturn of your blood-red lips. His fingers itched with an impulse to claw your mouth back into a smile, to dig his nails into your skin and carve your lips into a grotesque display of happiness, all in a desperate attempt to restore the radiance of your joy.

Meanwhile, Mimzy sighed in disappointment, yet Alastor discerned that beneath the theatrics, she was indifferent to it all, evident in her thinly veiled disinterest.

"Aww… That's too bad, sugar! The night's just gettin' started!" Mimzy exclaimed, shaking her head with a pout.

"But I get it! Some folks got places to be," Mimzy waved it off. There was a sudden twinkle in her eye as she pulled out a tab from her dress pocket. "Anyways, 'bout those drinks you had, they weren't exactly on the house, sooo..."

Alastor chuckled and pulled out his wallet. "Of course, my dear! I apologize, it must not have crossed my mind!"

He settled the bill and threw in a generous tip, for both you and Mimzy. His job as a radio host was quite the money-spinner, affording him the pleasure of treating others to the finer things in life. Mimzy practically glowed with satisfaction, her blue eyes sparkling as she snatched the tab. Swift and efficient, she flipped through the bills, before pocketing the money.

"Thank you, love!" Mimzy chirped, already moving away from the table as she waved him off. "You're welcome anytime!"

“I’m sure I am,” Alastor responded flatly, almost mockingly, with a roll of his eyes, pulling a laugh from you. As Mimzy made her way off backstage, both you and Alastor were left alone.

“It's a shame you have to leave so soon. I've got more songs up my sleeve for later. I would have loved for you to stay and catch the performance,” you sighed, turning back to him.

Alastor's eyes sparkled with genuine interest. "Songs, you say? Well, cher, that does sound like a delightful experience. Perhaps I can catch your next show some other time."

You smiled, appreciating his enthusiasm. "I'd love that. I perform here regularly, and your company would be more than welcome anytime."

Alastor's gaze intensified, fixing onto you with a magnetic pull that seemed to draw you closer despite yourself. His eyes, pools of darkness, held an unexplainable intensity. As his lips curled up into a grin, there was a hint of something more primal than human lurking behind his charming facade. A shiver traced its way down your spine, leaving behind a lingering sensation that unsettled you to your core.

"I'll definitely make it a point to come by," he finally said.

Scrambling for a response, the only sound that reached your ears was the rhythmic thud of your own heartbeat as your blood rushed through your veins.

"Y-You too! Don't let the night slip away too quickly," you stammered.

With a nod, Alastor bid you a final farewell, weaving through the dimly lit space towards the exit.

Yes, he shall see you very soon.

Cher - Louisiana Creole term meaning "darling," "sweetie" or "honey."

#sephiewrites #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor imagine #hazbin imagine #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x you #hazbin x you #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel #alastor

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saintels · 6 months

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— “well? dig in!” ★ MUNCHIES 𝖾𝗅𝗅𝗂𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗅𝗂𝖺𝗆𝗌

cw: loser + stoner ellie. mean gf femme reader. groping. pretty much just food play. praise. ellie is a messy bitch but a munch nevertheless. obvious wlw themes. weed. high key this is so unhygienic. heavily unedited. lowercase intended. drabble don’t like it? don’t read.

“y’so handsy.”

ellie looks like a dog. a desperate puppy with her mouth hanging open on a hot day.

her chin digs into your shoulder and her free hand that isn’t holding her messily-rolled joint is grabbing at your breast like they’re going to run away. they had already spilled from their black, lacy cups the second you leant back in between ellie’s thighs, allowing her fumbling hands to grasp what they needed to keep her grounded.

“ow!” you wince as she lands a particularly hard bite on your shoulder.

“sorry, baby,” she apologizes sheepishly, grinning lazily as her lashes flutter to shade her green eyes. they look up at you, red and hazy, “i’m hungry.”

“yeah,” you mumble, standing up and tossing your bra to the floor, “i can fucking tell.”

you waltz over to her fridge, feeling the way her eager eyes burn holes through your underwear.

you scoop up an assortment of ingredients, not really taking notice of them until they’re laid out on the coffee table, her bowl and papers pushed to the side.

you roll your eyes at the sight of her lazily laid back against the arm of her sofa. she props herself up on one arm, her jeans already unbuttoned and white tanktop riding up to reveal her wispy auburn happy trail.

her eyes widen as she spots the food on the table and she freezes for a moment.

“well?” you stand with your hands on your hips, “dig in!”.

yeah. ellie thought. i’m going to dig in, alright.

“lay down.”

you turned to look up at her from your position of bending to pick your bra up.

“what?”.

she stares at you blankly, sitting up now with her hands hanging between her knees.

“leave the bra and lay down on the couch. face up.”

you squint at her, suspicion crawling over your expression as you move to lay down across from her, shifting the cushions and throws to get comfortable.

she pulls off her tanktop, slowly crawling up your body in just her sports bra and unbuttoned jeans until she’s face to face with you.

“you comfy?” she whispers against your lips. she smells of hemp, champagne and the musky incense burning on the side table.

you nod and she messily presses a kiss to your lips, getting a good handful of your tit in her hand. she savors the way you gasp into her mouth, back arching into her touch. she chuckles lowly.

you watch curiously with bruised lips and hooded eyes as she grabs a strawberry and the bottle of honey. she takes a bite of the strawberry, placing it to the side and chewing as she opens the lid.

“wha- ah!” you gasp as the cold honey hits your nipple, the syrupy gold liquid slowly dripping down your rib cage, “ellie!”.

she grins and leans down, her eyes never leaving yours as she swirls her tongue around your hardened bud. her hands grip your hips, thumbs rubbing circles into your hip bones.

she collects the syrup on her taste buds, moaning as she finally takes your whole nipple in her mouth, doing her best to suck everything off.

“fuck,” you hiss as she releases it with a pop. the skin swells slightly and she grins, knowing a hickey will form there.

this feels like a fever dream, your mind blurry as she flattens her tongue on your skin and follows the sticky trail down to your navel.

“having fun there?” you manage to choke out, hands subconsciously tugging at the hair that lays by the nape of her neck.

she smirks lazily, collecting the sweet remnants on two of her fingers and bringing them to your face.

“have a taste, baby.”

you eye her down before slowly opening your mouth a little, letting her shove her fingers in. she moans at the warmth, your saliva coating her fingers as she sinks two slender digits in until you’re gagging on them knuckle deep. she feels herself getting irritable, her boxers now wet and uncomfortable.

“that’s it,” she whispers, looking down the bridge of her freckled nasal at you, “good fucking girl.”

she pulls them out and your hole clenches at the sight of your spit leaking down the veins in her hands and wrists.

after wiping her hand clean, she turns back to the coffee table.

you feel dizzy, trying to process the sensuality of what just happened to the point you hadn’t even noticed ellie tug your panties to your ankles.

she giggles slightly as your hips jump at the feeling of her nose bumping your puffy clit. you forgot she was high.

“ellie, i swear to god- fuck!”

you hear it before you even feel it. the slight hissing sound and then the feeling of the cold whipped cream swirled in perfect little mountain on your mound.

she ogles it, proud of her creation before she’s got her whole mouth on your pussy.

your jaw slacks and your mouth falls open yet your brain short circuits, failing to produce any sounds.

“mmm” she hums, lips smacking as she pulls off, “fuck yeah.”

ellie’s long fingers wrap around your ankles, the anklet she got you for your anniversary jingling in her ear as she raises them up, pressing your knees toward your chest.

you cry out as she latches onto your throbbing clit, tongue plunging deep into your hole to taste the main treat. you grip her hair, forcing her face into as if it were even possible for her to be any deeper inside you. trying your best to remember curtesy and your elderly neighbors, you chew on your bottom lip until it’s beaded raw and puffy. your mind goes misty, already hazed from how much you smoked and the spot ellie was repeatedly hitting with her tongue.

your orgasm is accompanied by a string of curses and white vision as your saccharine juices coat ellie’s chin and lips. your limbs twitch, toes curling as you struggle to grab onto any remaining strings of sanity let alone your own breath.

she gives you a lopsided smile and flops back against the sofa, rubbing your thigh tenderly just the way you liked.

“that was like— munchies but on steroids, babe.”

that was the last you heard of her ramble before you fell asleep. god, she was such a fucking weirdo.

#ellie williams #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x reader #the last of us #the last of us part 2 #tlou #ellie williams x you #female reader #smut #lesbian #wlw #wlw smut #brainrot #drabble #video game

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andersonfilms · 7 months

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eighteen+, mdni.

jock!abby who plays soccer is so head-over heels in love with you, but she promises to keep what you have going just between the two of you. ellie’s your best friend and the two of them can’t stand each other but two months ago at some stupid frat party, too many beers and three joints later abby was eating you out like her life depended on it. you were too high, and she was too drunk but god was she fucking you so damn good. strong arms pinning you to the edge of the bed, as her mouth sucked on your bundle of nerves, before she would let go, letting her tongue soothe over your clit and you moaning her name like a prayer in the process.

jock!abby talks you through it the entire time, and she’s so stupidly pretty with her blonde locks falling over her face like a golden waterfall. her blue eyes are so dark, they’re almost gray and then she has two fingers inside you. they’re thick and long and she’s reaching places you can’t. still, her words making you whine over and over, your hips moving uncontrollably but she pins them down with her brute force.

“Yeah, baby, I know how good this feels. I’m so fucking wet right now from this pretty pussy. You taste so good, baby. I could just eat you up forever. Want me to stay here, crushed by these pretty thighs of yours?”

jock!abby nearly crumbles when she rubs her cunt on top of yours, clits nudging against each other as you practically scream. you know this won’t be the only time you stumble into her bed, you know the next time you’ll be completely sober because god, does abby know how to fuck. she finds a rhythm that’s good for the both of you and she takes control on top. abby can’t help but think about how perfect the two of you fit together, her thighs against yours but she needs a better angle. so, she lifts your leg and places it on her shoulder and you want to come right there.

jock!abby can hear your sweet slick against her, her thighs, god it’s everywhere. she wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve dripped to her sheets, not that she minds. she’s fucking you so hard and you can feel a shiver run down your spine. you want to stay like this forever. her pussy feels so good against yours. you know this shouldn’t be happening. you shouldn’t be fucking ellie’s nemesis but god, the devil has never felt better.

“Be a good girl, baby. Come for me. I’m so close just need to feel your cum on me, need to feel it on my cunt. Please baby, show me how much you want this. Fuck, baby, right there. Yeah? Such a good fucking girl. Fuuucckkkkk.”

jock!abby comes with you, and your body jolts as you feel her slick stick to your swollen lips, it’s so messy and utterly fucking divine, sending both of you into pure euphoria. her biceps are so big, and she holds her weight as she devours your mouth with hers. her skilled tongue staking claim on you. fuck she feels exquisite and her wet pussy is still against yours and you never want her to move. all you want is her sweet, freckled face and the nectar you’re sure tastes delightful as honey, tucked between her thighs.

“You did so well, baby. Now, let’s see how good this pretty cunt takes my cock, huh? What do you think about that, gorgeous?”

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loveueddie · 1 month

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𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙈𝙚𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙'𝙨 𝙎𝙚𝙭𝙞𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙎𝙡𝙪𝙩

Pairing: Modern!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Eddie warms you up for "work."

Warnings: +18, Smut, unprotected sex, insults like 'slut', mention of drugs, slaps, Dom!Eddie, mention of 'Daddy', pornographic video. (I think that's just it haha)

Author's Notes: This is my first work, I couldn't proofread it so don't throw stones at me for mistakes lol. English is not exactly my language, forgive me if something is wrong. 🫶🏼🩷

You and Eddie are best friends with benefits. He calls you when he wants to wet his cock and you call him when your pussy needs attention. But what no one knew was that you two made videos during sex and posted them on a famous porn site, you two were famous on the site and made money. All of this had advantages, after all, who wouldn't want to make money just by having sex? Especially with Eddie Munson.

Having money was good and having sex with Eddie Munson was even better, he was her best friend but God, how could someone like him, who hadn't had that many experiences with girls throughout his life, be so good at fucking? It was a secret, maybe he was so fascinated in pornography since he was young and now he was doing his own with you.

Lying on your best friend's couch, wearing nothing but Eddie's old shirt, white lace panties, white socks on your feet and a herb wrapped in silk between your toes, you watch your best friend sitting on the other side of the couch, his skillful fingers, which They were in your pussy a few minutes ago, typing on the laptop on his lap, probably checking the comments on the video he posted of fucking your breasts earlier.

His curly hair was a little messy, shirtless, the tip of his tongue between his lips and the buttons of his black jeans were open, showing the happy trail of his pubic hair. He was sitting lazily on the couch, his legs parted as if silently inviting you to sit on his lap or kneel between his legs to suck him off. Both options were really good.

You pass the herb wrapped in silk for him to take a drag of which he thanks you with a wink and squeezing your thigh with his hand, leaving the marks of his rings and fingers on your skin.

Eddie laughed at a particularly nasty comment about her tit-sucking skills. "Looks like the Hawkins Freak has a new skill." He says with a smile as he squeezes your thigh, enjoying the sight of your ass peeking out of those white panties. "I bet I could make them cum just by sucking on those tits right now." Eddie blinks and blows a smoke ring, flicking the ash from his cigarette into a nearby ashtray. "Want to make us more money, baby?" Eddie asks as he caresses your bare, reddened thigh with his fingers.

You laugh, slapping his hand playfully and making a fake pout with your lips. "Doesn't the star here deserve a rest?"

Eddie smiles smugly, stretching and flexing his arm to show off. "Nah, we're doing good now, honey. I know you can take more." He suggests, pressing a finger against your cheek to gently turn your face to his, and looking at you lustfully. Eddie hands you the weed as he puts his laptop aside and lays down next to you on the couch, turning you onto your side to fit on his side. You feel his bare chest against your back. "I know you can. You never let me down." Eddie whispers, slowly rubbing his hard cock against your ass. Eddie's breath tickles your ear before kissing it softly. "Are you going to deny me, slut?"

Your breathing becomes shaky when he calls you a slut, kissing your ear and making you shiver. You bite your lip and then take another drag of the joint, playfully blowing the smoke in his face. Eddie laughs at your playful teasing and takes a deep whiff of the smoke, then takes the joint from your fingers. "So fucking sexy, baby." He murmurs, pulling your closer by your hips until they're flush against each other. "We'll give our fans something to jerk off to." He hand slides over your stomach, running his fingers over your sensitive skin, causing a soft moan to escape your lips. "Tell me, slut. How do you want to fuck tonight?" Eddie's fingers curl around your waist, giving your ass a gentle squeeze as he ponders your answer. "On your knees, on your back, bent over... It's your choice." His lips brush against her cheek, making her shudder as his hard cock presses against her ass. "We're going to make our fans cum, baby. Let's have fun."

You smile at him, rubbing your nose against his as you blow smoke into your half-open mouth, in which Eddie swallows the smoke satisfyingly. "Anyway you want."

Eddie laughs, placing a lingering kiss on your lips before pulling away. "Open your legs, baby." His voice is full of desire, the command mixed with a harsh tone. "I'm going to touch your soaking wet pussy." Eddie's hand slides up your thigh, pushing your panties aside to expose your slick folds. "I bet your pussy is already dripping for me, isn't it?" He murmurs against your earlobe, his finger tracing circles around your swollen clit as you gasp, your hips arching. "What a horny slut..."

Eddie's finger slides inside you, making you moan louder. His fingers curl deeper, teasing your sensitive spot as you throw your head back, your body shaking with pleasure. "They want to see us cumming on each other... And that's exactly what we're going to do." Eddie's free hand runs down your chest, pinching your nipple as he pumps his finger inside you, until the rings are inside you too.

Eddie pushes a second finger inside you, stretching your wet pussy as you whimper his name. "So wet, slut." He rubs his fingers against your G-spot, his cock throbbing in your ass as you pant. "I want to see that beautiful pussy when I fuck you, baby." Eddie slowly withdraws his fingers, tracing a wet path towards your clit before rubbing it firmly. "Get ready... I'm going to make you cum and we'll film it for our fans." His warm breath on your ear, sending shivers down your spine as you nod anxiously. "Let's give them what they want, slut." His thumb pressing against your clit as he hooks another finger, rubbing your swollen bud until your hips buck uncontrollably, your wet heat squeezing him. "Come for me, baby..." Eddie's voice is low, a whisper harshly as you choke. Your body shaking as you scream and whimper his name, your juices covering his hand.

You cum in his hand, panting and your chest rising and falling. You take a drag on the joint before passing it to him, placing the joint between your lips for him to take a drag on, since his fingers were busy in your soaked pussy.

Eddie sucks on the joint, shaking it as he strokes her tender, sensitive pussy, admiring your sensitive flesh glistening with her arousal. "Perfect, slut. It's show time..."

He kisses your hip, trailing down your inner thigh as you let out a satisfied sigh. "Get on all fours, baby." Eddie orders softly, pulling his fingers away from your pussy, making you moan softly, eager for his touch. “Now.” Eddie says in a husky voice, pulling your hair playfully, his cock throbbing with excitement as you obey, spreading your legs wide. Eddie smiles satisfied, taking the video camera with his hand wet with his cum, the other hand slaps his ass hard before starting to lower his black jeans to his knees, he wasn't even in his underwear.

You tilt your head to look at him over your shoulder, but Eddie grabs your hair and forces you to face forward. "Not yet, porn star." He plays with you, although his tone is hoarse with desire and commanding. He watches your panties stuck between your soaked folds. Eddie basically preps you before turning on the camera, adjusting your shirt above the waist and taking one last drag on the joint. The joint always made him hornier than normal.

Eddie turns on the camera, pointing at your wet pussy from behind, making you blush slightly. He records his finger playing with your wet lips, teasing you and hearing you whimper softly. “Please…” You whimper, breathing labored. Then suddenly he stops and you know what that means, it means he would continue if you called him..."Daddy. Please, daddy..." You add and that makes him smile, murmuring a "good girl" while pushing your panties to the side, revealing your slippery folds.

"Open your legs wider." He commands in a husky tone, his finger tracing circles around your sensitive flesh, making you moan softly. "What a horny slut..." Eddie teases your clit, making your hips shake as he takes another hit of the joint. "I'm going to fuck you deep, baby. So deep..." Eddie's voice grows husky, his cock poking your pussy from behind, teasing you. "Ready?" Eddie asks, his dick pressing harder against your wet entrance.

"Yes, daddy." You say with a trembling voice, unable to take the delay any longer. But Eddie has some fun, pointing the video camera at the hard cock at the entrance to your wet pussy, the pink head of his cock rubbing teasingly against your wet folds, threatening to penetrate, but only penetrating the head of the penis and pulling away to rub the tip on your sensitive clit.

"Eddieeee..." You whimper, already starting to feel your eyes watering from wanting his hard cock filling you so much. Eddie smiles and gently probes your tight opening with his swollen head cock, enjoying the feeling of being enveloped in your heat. "You're so tight, slut." He murmurs against your ear, pushing deeper, filling you slowly.

“This pussy is going to take all of me…” Eddie moans in the back of his throat, sinking completely inside you, your bodies connected in a way that was intended to be filmed. "They're going to love this, baby..." His fingers curl around your hips, holding you firmly as he begins to pump his cock in and out of you, the sound of flesh hitting flesh echoing in the room , captured on camera. Eddie leans over you, his bare chest against your back, the camera suddenly thrust in front of your face. He was recording your face as he fucks you hard.

"Tell 'em, tell 'em you're my slut..." Eddie's breath is hot against your ear, his body tense as he fucks you harder, looking down and growling as he enjoys the sight of his disappearing cock inside your tight pussy. "I-I'm your slut, daddy.." You say, voice shaky and drunk with pleasure and his big cock fucking you.

"Cum for me... Cum while they watch us fuck..." His voice is rough, full of desire as you moan, your body shaking beneath him, close to your climax.

Eddie grunts, his cock throbbing as you squirt around his cock until it leaks out of your pussy, a wave of pleasure rushing through him. “Fuck, baby…” He gasps, his release imminent. He pulls you close, burying his cock deep inside you as he unloads inside you, the sight of your cum-filled pussy caught on camera making your climax even more intense.

"Perfect, slut. Just perfect..." Your breath hitches as he slowly pulls out, his cock glistening with your juices. Eddie smirks at you, rubbing his cum covered cock against your sensitive flesh, enjoying the way you shudder beneath him. "For my horny slut, here you go." He grinds his hips against you, recording with the video camera and flooding your pussy with his hot cum, making you whimper even louder as you grip the couch, your body shaking with pleasure. "That's it, slut. Take Daddy's cum..." Eddie's voice is full of satisfaction, his gaze fixed on the sight of your cum-filled pussy before he pulls away gently, collapsing against your back, panting.

His chest rises and falls against you, his arms wrapped around you as you bask in the glow, completely exhausted. Eddie then turns the camera to focus on his sweaty face and his face, sweaty and flushed with pleasure. He gets up and hits your ass hard, making you jump and moan. Then he smiles, giving the video a thumbs up.

"Use a condom, kids." He says, ironically and playfully.

"You are so stupid." You say breathlessly, playfully rolling his eyes.

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leossmoonn · 7 months

Note

hi hi hi!

I was thinking a small fic for Mike Schmidt… like, after any intimacy it takes him a while to recover, so fluff of just the reader holding and taking care of him while he recovers. (bonus if his body is still slightly sensitive to touches)

yes he’s so baby girl 😫

18+ under the cut

mike after sex is a different type of mike. he’s ten time more exhausted than usual. his face is all flushed and slightly sweaty. his body feels achy on the outside, but on the inside he feels all warm and fuzzy.

“poor baby,” you gush, skimming your fingertips down his chest. “that good, huh?”

“mhm,” he hums, eyes half-lidded. he’s still breathing heavily, his chest rising up and down in big waves. the eye bags on his eyes are more prominent than usual. his cheeks are dusted with pink, his lips puffy from biting them so hard. you always think he looks so pretty after an orgasm.

you get up and tug on your underwear, walking to the bathroom and grabbing a warm towel. you sit next to him on the bed, admiring him. he looks so cute after you fucked him. his hair is all messy, some strands sticking to his forehead. there are purple marks that were created by your mouth lining his neck and shoulders. there’s cum covering his stomach. his cock is flaccid, but still pink and wet from being inside of you.

you take the towel and gently wipe his skin. you run the warm cloth over his hips, gently massaging his joints and muscles. he whimpers softly as you graze against his penis, still feeling sensitive and raw.

“sorry, honey,” you say as you have to lift his dick up to wipe the remaining cum.

“ ‘s fine,” he mumbles, gripping the bedsheet. “all done,” you say, reaching up to his face and pecking his cheek. you toss the towel into the laundry basket, sliding into bed next to him.

“did i go too hard?” you ask. “never,” he shakes his head. “just need a second.”

he moves to place his head on your tits, burying himself into them as if he wasn’t earlier. you cradle his head with one hand, using the other to draw patterns on his back. his big hands hold your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.

you kiss his head, weaving your fingers through his hair. “take all the time you need.”

#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt #mike schmidt smut #mike schmidt x reader smut #fnaf

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strawb3rryscorpio · 8 months

Note

Saw your recent post saw a Dominic fike tag maybe dating headcannons?

𝐃𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐂 𝐅𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒:

most romantic mf on the planet. i mean weekly date nights, flowers and gifts at random times. he insists he does all that because he wants to make up for the time he spends in the studio and you really can’t complain with 2k hanging from your neck

pet names!!!!! and from the both of you. you will almost never call each other by your actual name. also it’s literally anything from babe, baby, love, sweetheart, honey.

backtracking to date nights. if it’s something more casual, you will catch a movie and then go out for dinner or you’ll walk around town and window shop. if it’s something formal though, you’ll get dressed up and eat out at a fancy restaurant and then explore the area afterwards talking about anything and everything.

he would get you to listen to his new music before anyone else would. and in all honesty he only really considers and trusts your opinion on what he should release.

you would be his number one supporter no matter what project he was working on. you’d attend as many shows as possible and watch from backstage or even in front of barricade, sometimes. you’d also go to visit him on set if he was filming something, which he really enjoys.

while on the topic of music, he is definitely the master of writing tacky songs and then playing them on the guitar. you both know it’s cringey and you can’t help but break into fits of laughter every time he does it but deep down you absolutely love it.

like he’ll notice you being down one day and he’ll tell you to give him five minutes, and before you know it, he’s back and singing some lyrics about how beautiful you are and how he hates when you’re upset.

dumb arguments about dumb things are a given. whether it’s about a missing sweater or who has to do the dishes. no matter what though, he will be the first to apologize. (he’s for that princess treatment)

he’s also pretty jealous but not in a toxic or harmful way. he knows his limits and he knows he trusts you but sometimes he cannot help but start imaginary beef with any man that makes conversation with you.

you’d be the IT couple at every event with your matching outfits every time!!! anytime you attend an event together the pictures end up blowing up on social media.

you’d be everyone’s favourite/comfort couple. every time you post some dumb tiktok with him, it’ll end up going viral with tons of likes and comments.

he’s very clingy and i stand by that. your doing laundry? he’s following you around. at an event? he’s trailing behind you. even to the bathroom. you’re running errands? he’s up and ready to go.

you’d assume the clinginess would get annoying at times, but you absolutely love it.

enjoying the most mundane activities together. like folding laundry, cooking, and doing your skincare.

he’s is 100% the type to say that a moment is cute out loud and ruin the moment. it makes you laugh out loud every time he does it.

you’ll be sitting out on the balcony smoking a joint and he’ll say something along the lines of, ‘this is like out of a movie’. you’ll laugh but you agree. ‘dom, when you say it out loud, it ruins it!’

while on the topic of smoking, you guys spend every saturday night out on the balcony smoking a joint or hitting a bong and just talking about random shit and giggling the entire time.

posting each other all the time. he’s always posting cute pictures of you on his story and feed and you’ll post cute pictures of you two together.

his family would absolutely adore you. you’d spend girls day with his little sister quite often. you and his mom would call each other often and catch up.

he’s really sensitive even though he might not seem like it. you always watch him closely at events or even during nights out with friends to see if anything is bothering him or if someone’s pissing him off. to you, he’s very easy to read and you know exactly what to do.

you are also so open with each other about every little thing. you’re the definitely the couple that tells each other the tiniest little details about your day. you’ll get texts from each other like ‘just ate an apple’, ‘i put chia seeds in my smoothie’. and just cute things like that.

bomb. ass. sex. do i even need to elaborate??? it’s just so good and keeps you both happy and the relationship super healthy.

super touchy too!! throughout the day he has to have a hand on your boob, thigh, over your shoulder, or on your hip. literally anywhere at all times.

being the ushy gushiest couple ever !!!

—————————————————

h speaks🪽: i am obviously speaking from experience. i hope you enjoyed and be sure to request anything you’d like!!! appreciate anyone who reads my work it means a lot 💝

#dominic fike #imagine #dominic fike x reader #fanfiction #euphoria #headcanon #sunburn #dontstareatthesun #dominic #writer #euphoria x fem!reader #elliot #elliot x y/n #elliot euphoria #elliothbo

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navyhyuck · 10 months

Text

sweet thing — 1k words, choi yeonjun

warnings: explicit marijuana usage, shotgunning (..again), some kissing, frat president! boyfriend! stoner!yeonjun, a true and very accurate portrayal of what frat boys really want (a girlfriend lol), probably unrealistic infatuation and slightly possessive/jealous behavior, college party culture, frat boys!txt

a/n: if anyone was wondering, yes, i would be so down to have a stoner bf. not that i’m encouraging smoking of any sort, including weed, so don’t do drugs <3 and yes, i have a teeny tiny little fantasy about how it’d be like to date a frat boy, don’t ask. also… never underestimate the power of yawnzzn, he knows exactly what he’s doing. moral of the story: find yourself a sweet, real nice person that is obsessed with you!! don’t settle for less babes :]

you know what they say: good, sweet boyfriends always get their girl high before they’ve even taken a hit.

yeonjun is no different, a selfless soul, truly, the kind of addict that keeps pre-rolled joints stored in all sorts of places, always making sure you’re satisfied before he’s even begun. you don’t need much either, considering he’s the more experienced one, perching you on his lap and watching your lips wrap around his joint, smiling when he hears a light hum leave your chest. ah, yes, he treats his girl so well.

even when he’s the president of his frat, constantly hurdled with duties here and there: rush week, pledging, community service, partying—he’ll always make time in his busy schedule to see you. even if it means sitting on the bed of his trashed bedroom, fastening his arms around your waist, only getting high from the smoke you give him. really, he couldn’t ask for anything more.

his favorite part is when you surprise him at his parties, not always your favorite setting, dressed up so perfectly to him (baggy jeans and a t-shirt, a real turn on), sending your boyfriend the most stunning smile when you see him. his brothers scoff at the sight of you, namely the insufferable external vice president beomgyu (who still hasn’t satiated his deep desire to find a girlfriend), strutting away with such a sway that it makes you giggle.

“hi sweetheart,” yeonjun’s dripping honey already, pulling you to sit on his lap, pressing his fingertips carefully against your arm. he’s far gone, you realize, from the way he’s absolutely dazed, licking his lips slowly from the dryness, trailing his eyes on yours lazily. “i’m so glad you came.”

“mhm, i know,” you’re running a hand through his hair, the dusted pink color slowly growing to your liking. he leans into your touch, closing his hand around your wrist and sniffing. he’s exhaling loudly, eyes closed and head rocking back, one would think he’s getting off to the smell of you, as if you’d worn that mythical pheromone perfume he gifted you on your birthday. “you fucking pervert…”

“you smell good,” is all he mutters, letting you massage his scalp, chuckling when you curse at him again. a few seconds pass in the quiet bliss before he’s coming back to his senses, sitting up so fast you nearly topple off of him. “fuck, y/n, you’re sober.” it makes him frown slightly; of course, he can’t let you stay like that.

there’s nothing more attractive to him than the way you look when you’re taking hits—a little goes a long way—leaning back against him, eyelashes fluttering as the smoke bellows around you. he’s so pliant, patient with you as he doesn’t even let you hold the joint, exhaling smoke into your mouth every so often to see your crazed smile. the way your lips ghost past his, teasing in an attempt to be coy, oh, it makes him a mad man.

and it comes to a particular point in the night when you’re all giggly once again, laughing sweetly at the incredibly shitty jokes internal vice president soobin is making, making small talk with treasurer taehyun, even thanking (god forbid) secretary kai when he hands you a water bottle, and yeonjun’s locked a permanent arm around your waist. shit–his eyes are darting around, an incredulous look on his face–do all his brothers want to fuck his girl?

“don’t be ridiculous,” you mutter as your boyfriend whispers liquid jealousy, nodding your head as kai rambles on about how his president had him cleaning toilets for days. the one thing you ever hear from yeonjun’s brothers are complaints, of course, on how he runs this excuse of a fraternity. he’s now giving death glares to any man that comes within a ten foot radius of you, snapping at them to leave you alone, pressing you closer to him with every passing moment.

oh, of course, now he’s gotten possessive.

“my girl,” he’s sighing, lighting yet another joint to place against your lips, watching you relish in the feeling. his heart swells, nearly bursts from the way you laugh breathlessly, kissing at the very corner of his lips, pulling away when he chases after you. white smoke blurs his vision, but he’s still staring. “c’mere princess, share with me.”

you do, parting your boyfriend’s lips with your hand, looking directly into his eyes–pupils blown to the max, shaking–and exhaling. he can’t help but press his mouth against yours, trapping the smoke, grasping at the fabric of your shirt, searching for a nothingness to bring you impossibly closer. you’re caught off-guard, however, gripping his shoulders to keep him in place, kissing him back hesitantly. still in a public setting, you know, you can feel his brothers’ eyes starting to prickle at your back.

you’re so lucky he’s the president, you’re thinking with your eyes screwed shut, tongue pressing against yeonjun’s, waiting patiently for the high to hit. when it does, you can tell, the way his lips messily move against yours, kissing so loudly you know it’s indecent; after all, you hate pda when you’re sober, yet your brain’s fuzzy now, leaving you with quiet giggles bubbling in your chest. it’s so funny to you, suddenly, even when you’re curled up on your boyfriend’s lap, lazily inhaling as he presses the joint to your lips once again, grinning as you let him have a taste too.

and in all of that, when his lips leave a ghost trail on your neck, as your head floats far above the clouds, there’s nothing better he can think of. you’re the best thing he’s ever had, no denying that. even the faint crash of an empty vodka bottle doesn’t catch his attention, nor the yelling voice of the external vice president, the complaints and whines and one-sided argument, it’s all his imagination at this rate.

“–and fuck you, yeonjun, stop fucking your girl on our goddamn couch!”

#yeonjun x reader #yeonjun imagines #choi yeonjun x reader #txt x reader #txt x y/n #yeonjun fluff #yeonjun suggestive #yeonjun scenarios #txt fluff #txt suggestive #txt scenarios #girl if anyone ever quotes me on this...i'm done for #also i'm fucking lying no one says that.

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burntheedges · 3 months

Text

Maintenance Request: Chapter 15

Joel Miller x f!reader | new chapter every Friday 18+ | ao3 | main post & chapter list chapter word count: 3.6k

chapter summary: you and Joel go on a second date 👀 a/n: thank you as always to @katareyoudrilling for being the best beta 💕 chapter tags/warnings: flirting, banter, fluff, cursing, pet names (honey, baby, gorgeous, darlin’, sweetheart, cowboy), fondling, kissing, cuddling, comfort, food mention, drink mention, cursing, mention of reader's shitty ex (controlling behavior, manipulation, gaslighting, cheating) (shitty ex does not appear in this fic)

Chapter 15

Saturday, October 26 Ninth week of the semester

Joel (10:03 PM): Hey honey, you awake?

you (10:04 PM): sure am. even though someone tired me out last night 👀

Joel (10:06 PM): Think that was a joint effort, gorgeous. (10:06 PM): You up for a call?

** outgoing FaceTime call to Joel **

“Evenin’, honey,” Joel looked tired and warm and like something you wanted to sink into and never come back out of. Like what you wanted in bed with you, right next to you.

“Hey there,” you smiled. “How was the movie?”

He shrugged. “Not bad. Funny. One of those movies for teens that she loves and I find incomprehensible.” You laughed. You probably understood more of those than he did, given Ellie and your students, but you knew what he meant.

“Got plans tomorrow, honey?”

“You mean other than my hot date with some cowboy?”

He laughed. “Some cowboy, huh? Yeah, other than that.”

“Brunch with Ellie and Beth, since we didn’t go today.” You watched as he sat on his bed and leaned back into his familiar pillows. “You look comfortable over there.”

He shook his head. “Not nearly as comfortable as I’d be if you were here, baby.” You smiled and looked up at your ceiling.

“You’re such a flirt.”

“And you love it.” You looked back at the phone to find him raising his eyebrows at you. When you’d looked away you’d lowered the phone, so he could see your shirt. Which was his.

“You sleeping’ in my shirt, honey?”

You smiled. “Smells like you, Joel.”

His eyes were soft as he looked you over, even through the phone, and you pulled it back a bit to give him a better view of you lying against your pillows on the bed.

The grin that took over his face wasn’t soft anymore.

“Are my eyes deceiving me, honey, or are you wearing my shirt and nothing else?”

You grinned. “Sharp eyes you got there.”

He groaned. “Fuck, sweetheart. What do I do with you?”

You shrugged, grinning. “Anything you want, I guess.” He groaned again and wiped his hand over his face.

“You’re tempting me, honey, but I think we should hold that thought until tomorrow.” You sighed, but nodded. He may have blown your mind the night before, but you were only going on your second date. And you didn’t want this to only be about sex. As amazing as the sex was.

“You’re probably right, Joel. So what’s the plan for tomorrow?”

You talked to Joel for about a half hour, until it was obvious to both of you that you were falling asleep.

“I can see your eyes closing from here, gorgeous. Go to sleep.”

“Joel–”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, honey. Get some rest. You might need it.” You smiled at his wink, and said goodnight.

...

Sunday, October 27 Ninth week of the semester

On Sunday evening, you were ready and waiting on your sofa for Joel to pick you up around 5:45 pm. You were in a comfortable outfit, as you’d agreed, and you’d gotten to choose the place for dinner this time. Joel would have to be home for Sarah later, anyway.

Your phone buzzed, and you checked it, wondering if Joel was running late, but you found a text from Beth.

bestie (5:39 PM): have an amazing date (5:39 PM): tell me everything later

you (5:40 PM) I will

bestie (5:40 PM): don’t be afraid to tell him, babe (5:41 PM): I have a good feeling about this one

you (5:41 PM): me too

bestie (5:42 PM): 🫂

Over brunch, you’d told Beth and Ellie that you were planning to tell Joel about Matt. At least, enough about him to give him an idea of what had happened. You figured if you and Joel were going to be together – and you hoped you would be – you’d have time for details later. They’d agreed it was a good idea, and helped you think about what you wanted to say.

You took a deep breath and sank back into your couch. You can do this.

A moment later, a knock at your door announced Joel’s arrival, and you smiled.

You opened your door to find him leaning against the frame on the other side, already grinning at you. He was dressed in one of his flannel shirts that showed off his shoulders, though you noticed it was still nicer than his typical work shirts. Before you could say anything he stepped forward, snaking his arm around your waist to pull you into a kiss.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” he mumbled against your lips. “Missed you.” He teased along your bottom lip with his tongue, and for a moment you both slipped into a deeper kiss, before you gentled it and pulled away.

“Hi yourself, handsome.” You pressed one more gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth and you felt it when he smiled.

“You ready to go?” He stepped back from you and let his hand fall to tangle with yours. You nodded.

After locking your door you let him lead you to his truck. When he offered his hand to guide you into the passenger seat, you kept hold of it and pulled him in to kiss you again. You felt him smile against your lips as he stepped in between your knees. “If you keep this up, honey, we might not make it to dinner.”

You smiled and kissed his cheek. “Can’t help myself.” He hummed and slid his hands up the outside of your thighs, around your hips until he had a firm grip on your ass with each hand. He squeezed once and then pulled you forward suddenly, tugging your hips to meet his.

“Honey, if you wanted to stay in, I wouldn’t be hard to convince.” You could feel the evidence supporting his claim in his jeans and you bit your lip. He watched and then kissed you, softly.

You straightened your shoulders and shook the haze out of your mind. “I do actually want to go on this date with you, Joel.”

He smiled. “Me too, darlin’.” He leaned in for one more quick kiss before stepping back, gesturing for you to turn in the seat so he could close the door.

Soon you were on your way, and Joel’s hand found its home on your thigh once more.

“So where to?” You’d agreed last night that you would choose the restaurant tonight, since Joel had chosen for your first date. You gave him directions to your favorite local taco place. It was in a tiny old-house-turned-restaurant, and you figured he’d love the backyard that functioned as their outdoor eating area. You also knew you’d be able to have some privacy for what you wanted to talk about.

It wasn’t far from your apartment, and soon Joel was pulling into a parking space just around the corner from the restaurant. “I’m guessin’ it’s that colorful place on the corner?”

You nodded. “Yep! Come on, tacos await.” He laughed and followed you down the street.

Inside, the restaurant’s cheerful interior was as warm and welcoming as always. The walls were painted bright colors and all of the furniture was comfortable and well-used. The host recognized you (which was a little embarrassing, but fine) and quickly took you through the small indoor space to the backyard. You heard Joel’s surprised inhale behind you as you stepped outside, and you smiled.

The backyard was fenced off and the lot was bigger than it looked from the street. String lights decorated the fence and criss-crossed the yard overhead, along with other colorful decorations. There were a lot of tables, but the thing that had always made you love this space was how the tables were divided from each other – with plants. It was like sitting in little garden nooks where you’d normally find benches. There were bushes and tall plants everywhere that had been intentionally grown to provide privacy throughout the yard. Paths wound throughout, and the host led you down one of the winding paths to a small table in a back corner, surrounded by the fence on one side and a large hydrangea bush on the other. It was a gorgeous spot.

You turned to see Joel’s reaction as you sat, and you weren’t disappointed. He was looking around with a curious, interested look on his face, taking in the yard. You bit your lip, waiting for his reaction.

As he settled in his chair he reached his hand out to brush his fingers lightly against the hydrangea blossoms, and he smiled. When his eyes met yours, your breath caught in your throat.

“I had no idea this was back here,” he sounded stunned. “Darlin’, this is amazing. D’you know if they grew it like this?”

You grinned. “I hoped you’d like it. Yes, Beth and Ellie and I come here a lot, and we’ve met the owners a few times. There was a huge overgrown mess of a garden when they bought it – it took a lot of work, they said, but they kept as much of what was here as they could. They decided to let it guide their plan for the space, rather than the other way around.”

Joel was smiling, almost wistfully as he looked around the yard again. “They did a great job. I can tell someone really knows what they’re doing.” You nodded. He turned back to you and suddenly reached across the table to take your hands in his, tangling your fingers together and squeezing. “I do like it, honey. I–” he cleared his throat. “I love it. But I also,” he shook his head, and you squeezed his hands. He looked down at where your fingers were tangled together, and then met your eyes again. “It’s been– nevermind.”

“Joel, I–”

“No, baby, thank you. That’s all.” He smiled and squeezed your hands again. “I love it.”

You thought maybe he wanted to say something else, but then he changed the subject to the food. You told him what you liked, and soon your waiter arrived to take your order. After your drinks quickly arrived, you were alone again.

Joel still seemed to be thinking about something, and you weren’t sure what, so you decided to give him time to work it out. You could always ask about it later. Instead, you decided to go for a lighter topic – you weren’t quite ready to bring up the one you’d planned to talk about, not yet.

“So what show are Sarah and Tommy watching?”

Joel groaned, and the two of you discussed the reality TV show that had hooked the other two Millers until your food arrived.

“I just don’t care about the love lives of these people,” Joel said. “I can’t figure out why they find it so compelling.”

You laughed. “I watched a couple of seasons of that one with Beth. It’s entertaining, at least.”

Joel shook his head. “None of their relationships ever feel real, you know? I just get impatient with it. Knowin’ most of them won’t end up together, anyway.” You nodded. That made sense. You could already tell that he went after what he wanted, once he knew he wanted it.

You both took a moment to eat, and Joel told you how much he liked the food, too. “I’m glad you showed me this place, darlin’. Can’t believe I’ve never been here. Sarah’ll love it.”

When your tacos were done, you ordered another round of drinks, and Joel scooted a bit closer to the table so he could reach out to take your right hand in his left again. You were feeling comfortable, and as always, talking to Joel was easy. You took a deep breath and decided to go for it.

“Joel, I wanted to, um, talk to you about something.” You noticed that his brows furrowed immediately in response to that, and you squeezed his hand. “Nothing like that. I wanted to–” You sighed, and took a sip of your drink. “I want to tell you about that past relationship, the one I told you about a little bit the other day. In my office.”

Joel looked surprised – his eyebrows flew up, and he reached to take your other hand, capturing both in the middle of the table. “You don’t have to, honey. I–”

“No, um, I know.” You interrupted, but brushed your thumb over his knuckles in apology. “I want to. Not all of it. I figure we have time, you know? I think we both, well. It feels like we’re both thinking we'll have time.” His face was serious as he nodded in agreement. You nodded once, sharply. “But I want you to know a few things, just about what it was like. I think it’ll make it easier, for us. If I tell you now.”

Joel listened attentively as you explained. His hands were warm and you felt comforted by his touch, by the caress of his thumbs as they moved back and forth. He murmured your name softly. “I’ll listen to whatever you want to tell me. Thank you for trusting me.”

You closed your eyes, thinking about how different just this moment was from anything you’d ever had with Matt. It was a good place to start, maybe.

“Let’s start with that. Matt, that’s his name, he didn’t trust me at all. It’s easy for me to put names on all of the issues now, it’s been five years and a lot of therapy,” you smiled weakly, but Joel was watching you like nothing could tear his attention away from this moment. “I didn’t recognize it at the time. But he was pretty manipulative, emotionally. He withheld things like trust and–” You closed your eyes. “And love. I had to, um. Earn those things, he said.” Joel made a noise, and your eyes flew open. His expression was dark and angry and you blinked, surprised. He seemed to see your reaction and softened his brow.

“Sorry, honey. That – that wasn’t for you. I don’t like the sound of this guy, might look a bit mad as I listen.”

“I feel pretty angry about it sometimes, too. I did, for a while.” You shook your head.

“Um, but anyway. He didn’t… I’m not sure he actually liked me, you know? More that he liked having someone to control. But there wasn’t really any love in that relationship, not after he swept me off my feet at the beginning. He never did things for me, like nice things, and when I did things for him he would only tell me how I didn’t do them right. It was…” you looked away, trying to decide how much detail to give, how much you needed to say right now. You shook your head and looked back to meet his gaze. “I’ve had a lot of time to work through it, I guess. Not that I’d say I’m over it. But like the other day, sometimes I react based on my experiences with him, not based on what’s happening right now, in the moment. He cheated on me, a lot. He used to tell me things like that were my fault, because I wasn’t good enough.” You felt Joel’s grip tighten on your hands and looked down. “I was with him for almost two years. It wasn’t like that the whole time, but you know, it ended up there by the end. I just–”

You looked back up, but the look on Joel’s face made you lose your train of thought. He wasn’t angry anymore. Or he was, a bit, but he was also looking at you like you were breaking his heart. “Joel? Are you–”

“Don’t ask me if I’m ok,” the words rushed out of him and he stopped, taking a deep breath. “I– I am so sorry that happened to you. I don’t, shit,” he trailed off, eyes dancing over your face. “Thank you for telling me about it. I promise, sweetheart, I won’t–”

You cut him off. “I know, Joel, I–”

He whispered your name again and shook his head. “Let me say it, please. I promise I won’t ever treat you like that. If I ever do anything, anything at all that even hints at how he treated you, please tell me. But you should know Sarah would probably kill me herself. If Tess and Frank didn’t get to me first.”

You smiled. “Joel, Beth and Ellie agreed with me that I should tell you a little bit about it today, because we all think you’re a good man. And I want you to know me, you know? This might… well. It might come up again. It probably will. And I wanted to explain, more, after… yeah.” You felt shaky, suddenly, like telling him all of that had taken more out of you than you’d thought. He eyed you and tugged on your hands.

“Can you come over here, just for a minute, honey? Can I hold you?” You nodded quickly and stood, coming around the table to let him pull you into his lap. He slipped his left arm around your waist and his right up your back, cupping your neck and pressing your head down onto his shoulder. The chairs weren’t really meant for this, even if they were sturdy, but you figured a few minutes wouldn’t hurt anyone. Hopefully the waiter didn’t come back.

You felt Joel press a kiss to your hairline, and you sighed into his neck. He put his lips to your ear, and murmured, “I won’t lie, baby, I am so angry that man treated you that way. I don’t…” He pressed a kiss to your cheek. “I know it’s early, so I’ll just say I care about you. A lot. I’m so sorry, honey. And I want you to know how proud I am, to have your trust.”

You didn’t know how good it would feel to have someone say that to you until Joel said it.

“I know you could tell I was thinking about something when we got here, something I was having trouble telling you.” You nodded into his shoulder and felt his smile where his mouth was pressed against your cheek. “This year for my birthday, Sarah got my watch fixed.” He moved his wrist to show you the watch you’d seen him wear most days you’d known him. “I’d been meaning to do it, never got around to it.” He let out one rueful sounding laugh. “But it’s… You know that feeling, when someone does something for you or gives you a gift that really makes you feel, well. Seen, I guess? Appreciated. Like they really know you.”

You try to lift your head to look at him, but he presses your head down gently. “Sarah knew I’d never get this fixed. She snuck it out of the house to do it, all on her own. It, well. It meant a lot to me.” He cleared his throat. “Honey, you know I like you a lot. I think you like me, too. But when I saw this place, and when I saw you waiting to see my reaction to it, it— it felt like the watch.” He kissed your cheek again, and this time he let you lift your head so you could meet his gaze. He cupped your cheek in his right hand and the look on his face took your breath away.

“I know this is only our second date. I know we’ve barely gotten started. But this feels special, sweetheart. I didn’t want to scare you off by sayin’ too much. This feels like…” he trailed off, and smiled.

You smiled back. “I know, Joel.” He leaned forward and pressed his forehead to yours, and you leaned into it, eyes slipping closed. “I feel it, too.”

You sat there together for another moment, but too soon, you pulled back. “I should get back to my seat before the waiter gets back.” Joel nodded, but pressed a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth before he let you go.

Back in your seat, you and Joel just looked at each other for a moment. “Should we, um,” you started, but didn’t know how to finish your suggestion. He smiled.

“Want to get out of here, darlin’?” You smiled back, and nodded.

Once the waiter came back you took care of the bill, and Joel guided you out of the yard and through the house with his hand on your lower back the whole way. At the truck you reached to open the passenger door, but Joel reached out to put his right hand on the door, holding it closed.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, and turned you around. He crowded you against the side of the truck and cupped your face in his left hand. “Hey there, gorgeous.”

You smiled. “Hey, handsome.”

“I’ve got a couple more hours before I have to head home, you know.”

“That so?” You grinned. “Well then, I think you should take me home, hmm? Maybe come in, have a drink?”

Joel answered by leaning forward to kiss you, hard.

…

bestie (9:14 PM): how did it go???

you (9:32 PM): it went really well (9:33 PM): he liked the garden too

bestie (9:33 PM): well we know he’s into plants (9:34 PM): did he say anything about it

you (9:35 PM): about Matt? just that he was sorry I’d been through that and he promised not to treat me that way (9:36 PM): he said if he ever did anything like that Sarah would probably kill him

bestie (9:37 PM): as she should (9:37 PM): I’m calling you I need more details that can’t be all of it

you (9:37 PM): lol fine

...

a/n: the taco place is based on a real coffee shop and empanada place I used to frequent when I lived in Houston (Campesino, I miss you), with the addition of a garden I saw somewhere else.

I hope I tagged everyting write for their convo! Don't worry, shitty ex never actually appears in this fic. let me know if you think I should add any tags.

Also, time to share this genius meme from @gasolinerainbowpuddles:

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tag list: @jupiter-soups @ilovepedro @auteurdelabre @anoverwhelmingdin @myloveistoolittle @iknowisoundcrazy @beezusvreeland @screechingphantommaker @bigboiseason123 @joelalorian @untamedheart81 @ashleyfilm @jessthebaker @jeewrites @fluffygoffpanda @paleidiot @mithicakurogo @theclairvoyage

@secretelephanttattoo it's posted now lol

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #tlou fic #x reader #maintenance request fic

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saintmurd0ck · 11 months

Text

all up in smoke

masterlist

pairing: frank castle x f!reader

summary: based on the prompt: 'sit on my lap and let's smoke a joint'

warnings: alcohol, weed (rolling a joint, smoking, shotgunning), frank being a cute little whore, heavy petting/teasing but no sex, high epiphanies (mostly fluff!)

a/n: happy late birthday to the ever lovely @chelseasdagger , this one is for you babeyyyyy 💗

Home is a solace on your lips as you step inside, your keys joining the others in the bowl by the front door. Despite the events of your day, still fresh in your mind, you feel the knotted tension in your body begin to dissipate, the pressure easing in your temples. The few lights that have been left on are dimmed, filling the house with the kind of ambient coziness you’ve been longing for all day.

You round the corner, and there he is on the couch: feet kicked up on the coffee table, immersed in a hardcover book you swore he’d never touch. A pang of emotion stirs in your stomach — a cross between yearning and consolation; something you just can’t place, but are grateful for nevertheless.

“Hi, Frankie,” you smile, drawing the curtains open, letting the cool night air filter into the living room.

He lifts an eyebrow, glancing up at you from behind the book. “Hey, sweetheart. Long day?”

You stretch your arms over your head, nevermind that his voice stirs something in you, and set your bag up on the kitchen counter. “Mmhm. Glad to be home.”

Frank leans forwards, fingers closing around the drink he’s left on the coffee table. His eyes flick to yours as he takes a sip, caring not to break contact, before jerking his chin at the bottle of scotch next to your bag. “You want some of that?”

He points at you, clicking his tongue as you move to pick the bottle up. “Don’t move. Stay right there.” Setting his book aside, the pages splayed face-down onto the table, he makes his way over, utterly impervious to your flurried attempts in getting him to remain where he is.

“D’ya really think I’d let you pour your own drink?” Frank says, looking affronted, but a furtive smile spreads along his face as you shake your head.

“C’mon, sweetheart. Let me take care of ‘ya,” he adds, delicately.

Carting you gently to the side, he digs around in the freezer, reaching for a couple of ice cubes that clink mellifluously in the glass. You watch intently as they bob in line with the whiskey streaming in, and then as he inspects the amber liquid closely, as if to examine its quality.

When he’s satisfied, he turns to you, and raises the rim of the glass to your mouth. “Here,” Frank murmurs, condensation collecting around his fingertips. “Drink up.”

You shudder as the whiskey cascades hotly through your veins — each note of pepper, caramel and nutmeg lingering on the surface of your tongue like molten honey. You swallow another mouthful before pushing the glass away, not taking your eyes off of him for a second as he sets it down.

Frank runs his tongue over his teeth, raking his eyes across your face. He focuses on a stray drop of whiskey at the corner of your mouth, using a knuckle to brush it away. Your heart thunders at his calloused touch; as he pauses to swipe his broad thumb over your bottom lip. There’s a faint throbbing within you — a wild drumbeat steering you towards nothing but desire — so you flick your tongue out, circling his fingertip, relishing in his taste of salt, earth and whiskey.

He lets out a soft groan, mumbling something that sounds like your name; maybe even a plea to slow down. You’re attentive, knowing he doesn’t want this night over yet, that he wants to wait before taking you to bed.

It’s a good thing then, that you have something planned.

You inch forwards, swallowing as Frank’s hand sweeps over the contours of your face, coming to rest at a spot near your ear. He tips your chin upwards, letting his ragged breathing fan over you. He stalls, allowing his dark eyes to bore into yours, and for a moment you forget where you are, the stressors of the day long gone.

All you know is him.

His beard prickles your skin as he captures your mouth with his own, but you lean into the kiss, savouring his ardent warmth. He moves with you, deepening the kiss as you slide a hand into his hair, curling your fingers at the nape. Your thighs squeeze together as he pivots you around, pushing you against the counter while his tongue melts against yours. Using his leg to knock your knees apart, you arch into his touch, gasping as the bulge in his jeans settles where you need him the most.

You won’t be able to stop if you don’t pull away now.

“Frank,” you whisper. “Frank.”

He looks at you, placing a small kiss to your jaw. “Mm?”

“Before… uh,” you start, lightheaded and fuzzy, unable to comprehend anything but the heady weight of the whiskey and the ache between your legs. “I've got something for us. A little surprise. And I think,” you indicate, wagging a finger from him to you, “we should save this for later.”

He arches his eyebrows, smiling inquisitively. “Yeah? And what’s that?”

You step aside to rummage through your bag, taking only a few seconds for you to find what it is you’re looking for. You hold up a clear plastic container, giving it a little shake in front of Frank’s face. His eyes widen in comprehension.

“God, I love you.”

“Hey,” you smirk, “not God. Just me.”

He chokes on his own laughter, draining the last of your whiskey. “You got it, sweet girl.”

You bite down on your growing smile. “Anyway, I was thinking the plan could go something like… get a little high, have some fun. You know what I mean, right?”

“S’that right?”

“We both deserve it.”

“You need some help with that?” he asks, pointing at the rolling papers you’ve set down on the counter.

“Nope. Walk away.”

You’re an image of rapt focus with your tongue between your teeth, cautiously grinding the weed before packing it into the rolling paper. You slip a filter on one end of the joint, and using your thumb and forefingers, you roll it into place. Bringing the free edge of rolling paper up to your mouth, you skirt your tongue along the narrow strip of glue, quickly moving to seal the joint.

You shoot Frank a resolute look of determination. “Not bad, huh?”

He folds his arms over his chest, leaning back into the couch. Almost hidden in the tangle of his beard, the corners of his mouth tick upwards. You can’t quite tell if he’s astonished, impressed, or a mixture of everything in between, but the expression on his face is a priceless ego boost. “Attagirl.”

“Mmhm,” you reply drily, admiring your handiwork from up close.

“Baby?” Frank calls, breaking your tethered focus. A glimmer of a smile in your periphery catches your eye.

“Yeah?”

There’s a sound of rustling fabric as Frank spreads his legs, motioning you over to him by patting his thigh. “C’mere.”

Your gaze softens at his request. “That sounds good, Frankie. Let me grab my lighter.”

“Got it right here,” Frank chuckles, holding it up and thumbing it open.

Twirling the joint in your fingers, you meander over to his spot on the couch, watching the tiny orange flame dance in his eyes as he holds down the lighter button.

He’s a solid comfort under you as you sit down on his lap, shuffling back until the side of your body is angled to his chest, using the armrest as additional support. His scent is a blissful, pacifying force – distilling in you where it matters.

Frank wrests the joint from your grip, assiduous in the way he places it between your lips, then as he lights it for you. The lit end glows as the papered edges begin to burn, flickering in its reflection in the window ahead. You take a drag, letting the smoke fill your mouth before inhaling it into your lungs. Maybe it’s in your head, but your body feels lighter already; even more so as you exhale.

The grey-tinged smoke remains opaque for only a second, vanishing into the air as soon as you pass the joint to Frank. You breathe out again, more deeply this time, allowing the grassy, herbal scent of the weed wash over you in waves of tranquil calm.

You cock your head to the side, studying the normally terse man before you leisurely smoking the joint, taking two drags instead of one. Gratitude forms a lump in your throat — nights like these are rare, and to see him so carefree, his mind unoccupied by the workings of the larger world, is a luxury you’ll never get tired of.

After tapping the gathering ashes into his empty whiskey glass, Frank hands the joint back to you, closing his eyes while he waits for your next pass. As the weed-induced euphoria starts to take effect, you wrench one of Frank’s hands from its spot on your thigh, interlacing your fingers together. You take your time in mapping his knuckles, tracing over every crease, scar and perfect imperfection.

You tap on Frank’s shoulder, wanting him as a credible witness for a successful smoke ring, but like all your past attempts, it morphs back into a cloud, hanging there in contempt.

He laughs softly, putting you right to shame with a series of flawless rings that fall forwards in an arc towards the coffee table.

You giggle, jabbing him in the chest with an expertly-placed elbow. “Don’t get too cocky now, Castle.”

His mouth quirks to the side. “Yeah? What are you gonna do, hm?”

“I’ll…” you search around the room for something to say. “I’ll withhold sex!”

He gasps, feigning an expression of outrageous offense. “That’s cruel, darlin’.”

Laughing, you reassure him you wouldn’t, really, but he takes the opportunity to soar through the cracks of your defense, hauling you backwards until his face is flush with the shell of your ear. “Really think you could resist it? Not havin' sex?”

The retorts crumble away as he tells you to ‘open up, sweetheart’, lifting the joint back to his lips. He breathes in deeply, turning his head to then exhale the smoke into your parted mouth. Your eyes roll back as he seals it with a kiss, and it catches you a little by surprise, but you run with it, inhaling as much as you can.

Not quite ready to let go of your earlier comments, Frank does it again, shotgunning into your mouth until you're left with nothing but a dreamy expression and no thoughts left in your mind.

You let out a contented sigh as the weed goes to your head, absentmindedly rubbing the spot where his beard scratched your lip.

Eyes drooping, Frank wraps his arms tightly around you, holding you as close as he can, trailing kisses along your shoulder blades, down your arm, whispering sweet nothings and notes of ‘I love you’ until you slacken in his grip. You touch your lips to his forehead, now resting in the crook of your neck, his steady breathing keeping you anchored to your reality.

The next hour passes by in a haze — you’re mildly aware that there was another joint rolled in that time, courtesy of Frank, probably, but your memory retains the best parts: the giddy, high epiphanies, the smoke-filled kisses, the long-drawn-out touches… the fact that his skin has never felt so soft.

Exceptionally and utterly stoned, you move, draping your legs over his lap, clinging onto his neck so you can bury your face in his shirt – so spaced out that you barely register him talking.

“...Who the fuck is “Drake” anyway?”

“What?!” you sputter, snickering as if it’s the funniest thing you’ve ever heard. “He’s a rapper, Frankie.”

“He’s off limits, so don’t even try” — you stumble over your words — “enacting your justice or… whatever.”

Frank frowns at you, pressing his lips into a thin line.

And then he bursts into laughter. Unequivocal, heaving sobs of hysterical laughter. And it might be the sweetest thing you’ve ever heard.

“Enacting my justice? That what you think it is?” he howls, bringing his fist down onto the couch. “You really think I’ve got nothin’ better to do than hunt down rappers?!”

“A little bit,” you sniffle, wiping away the tears of joy streaming down your face. “You know who’d love this conversation?”

He shakes his head as you continue. “Micro.”

“Micro,” he nods, affirming your point. “Bet he’d know more about “Drake” than me.”

You chortle at his aggressive hand gestures. “You don’t need air-quotations every time you say Drake, you know.”

He waves a hand in the air. “Ahh, I know.”

“Frank Castle,” you say, kissing his cheek once, then twice, “I think this is the wisest you’ve ever been.”

“Oh, c’mon. Really?”

You gesture at the stub of your second joint, floating in the bottom of his whiskey glass. “Yep. You might have to do this more.”

“You’re gonna be the death of me, sweetheart.”

“Better me than what’s out there. Right, Frank?” you croon, batting your eyes at him.

“S’right, darlin’. That’s right.”

tags {x} @darlingshane @castlesnchurches @reborn-rekall @marvelswh0re @itwasthereaminuteago @simple-lovebot @chvoswxtch @pedrito-friskito @chellestrash @theradioactivespidergwen @twilightbarnes @splendiferous-bitch @bl4ckpr1ncess @kaybeeboop @kdogreads @swearwolf13 @rqgnarok @qu1etwolf @honeyedheartss @runa-falls @whistle1whistle @awkwardalie

#frank castle x reader #frank castle #frank castle smut #frank castle fluff #frank castle fanfic #the punisher #the punisher x reader #the punisher fanfic #frank castle fanfiction #x reader #rhi writes 💻#tw weed #cw drugs

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ddejavvu · 11 months

Note

stepbrothercollege!Hotch sneaking back home every once in a while to come visit his favorite stepsis to make sure he’s still her favorite and not any of the gross high school boys

today is multiverse monday, send me any au you can think of! :)

this post is 18+ (and so are its characters) and dark, minors dni. (cw: stepcest; don't like, don't read).

You're not expecting Aaron back because your mom hadn't announced his return. Money comes out of her joint account with Aaron's dad to pay for everything, his gas money, his plane tickets, so if he was returning by either mode of transportation, they'd have gleefully announced their less-full bank balance.

Apparently, he'd used his own cash to buy a train ticket, though. You're three minutes from finishing the tail end of a movie, one you hadn't been paying full attention to. You'd run out of things to watch, but picking something at random from netflix's library only yielded boredom. Still, you're going to finish it out, or at least, you were, until a large hand hooked over your window sill from the outside, latching onto the wood to provide leverage.

You shriek, the sound straight out of a horror movie, while you consider you might be in one yourself. But the face that pops up through the window next is a familiar one, and you regret your outburst as you hear footsteps rush towards your bedroom.

"Honey?" It's your mom, probably in her nightgown and slippers, "Honey, what's the matter? Your- your door is locked," She jiggles the handle, and you're glad you're too paranoid to leave the door unlocked at night, "Let me in!"

You look back at Aaron who's waiting with one eyebrow raised for either a signal to run, or a signal to stay. You try fixing him with a reassuring grin, but it's probably shaky as your heart finally begins to slow, "Uh, nothing, mom. I saw a spider, that's all. But it was on the outside of the window, I'm okay."

She heaves a sigh, "Okay. I'm going back to sleep, honey."

"Keep it down," The gruff voice of Aaron's father follows after her, and you're not surprised the man is concerned more with the noise level of the house than your personal safety. Aaron's jaw tenses, the muscles in it tightening.

"Goodnight," You mutter tersely through the door, and Aaron's already begun lifting himself the rest of the way into your room. You let him grab your hand for leverage and you pull him onto your mattress, a sound that your mother will think is just you crawling back into bed after your spider scare.

"Hi," He murmurs with a lazy grin, keeping his voice low so that no one can hear him but you. He's instantly at home on your mattress, leaning back on his palms flat over your comforter.

"Hi," You breathe, equally dazed, "You're- you came back!"

"I did," He chuckles, an earring hooked through his right ear and glinting in the moonlight spilling through your window. His hair is longer now than when you'd seen him last, swooped loosely to one side of his face, "I heard some rumors from Eric, wanted to come back down and see you."

"Eric-?" You tilt your head neatly to one side at the mention of your coworker, and Aaron's old friend, "What did Eric say?"

"Just that some of the high school boys have been trying to get your attention," His lips tighten in another near-scowl, "High school boys are too confident."

"You used to be one," You laugh, reaching for his cheek and feeling a slight hint of stubble raised just over his skin, "Now I didn't know you then, but I have to assume you were just as overconfident as the idiots from the gas station are."

"I-" He chuckles, tilting his head into your hand, "I was never that bad, sweetheart, I was never stupid enough to think I could get with a college girl."

"Well I sent them packing," You promise, and he takes your hand off of his face only to squeeze it and lean in closer.

"Good," He hums, sharp, angled nose nearly prodding at your own skin, "I might have to beg my dad to pay for your transfer to my school if they don't get the message."

"I'm okay here," You promise, your voice a near-whisper with the hope that he'll finally close the gap and kiss you, "But I think you should keep coming to see me like this, Aaron."

"Yeah?" He inches impossibly closer, his breath warm over your lips, "You like it when I crawl through your window?"

"And get all protective of me," You confess, cheeks heating slightly at your admission, "What about you, Aaron? Any of the girls at law school caught your eye?"

"No, they're pretty boring," He muses, faking contemplation, "There's this one girl back home, though..."

"Oh, shut up," You gush, pressing your lips to his curving ones as he chooses to grin instead of make a move. You're fed up with his teasing, with having him inches apart and not having him at all, and you melt into the kiss that he reciprocates so quickly.

"I have to head back in a few hours," He laments, "It's a long train ride, and I have a class at 10."

"I have a class at 9," You nod solemnly, "But maybe this weekend I can take the train to visit you? I could just tell my mom I'm sleeping over with my friend."

"That sounds," He cuts himself off to press a firm kiss to your lips, "Perfect, sweetheart. Let's just-" Another kiss, "-enjoy the time we have now, and pretty soon we'll have the whole weekend to ourselves."

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everythingne · 5 months

Text

cloud circuit - ls2

Y/n Tiffany has always been a woman just outside of Logan's grasp. But a chance encounter at a bus stop and a new neighbor prove maybe somethings are meant to be. As long as he doesn't figure out her real name.

logan sargeant x business owner!student!reader

warnings/notes: I don't think I have any genuine warnings for this chapter specifically? me once again doing a slightly messy trope bc i live for drama

Logan had never assumed he’d be the guy to fall for someone the way he fell for you. It was happenstance, a complete coincidence, but you both kept running into each other. For two years. At least once a week.

He went on a morning jog? You were at a crosswalk he had to stop at.

He was running out to get groceries last minute? You were buying baking supplies.

He had to go visit Oscar? You were also on the bus he had to take.

He went to the gym? You worked at the joint coffee shop, book store, bakery, florist shop, place next door, Cloud Circuit.

One thing he always found though, was there was always a book nestled in your arm. From Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow, to The Silent Patient, to For The Wolf, you always had a book, a black pen, and a highlighter and tabs you color coded to the books cover. It was something so minuscule for him to notice, but when a girl in a busy city like London was constantly curled up in a book—even on the clock, it seemed big.

The first time you spoke to him, outside of ordering him his usual orders—either a matcha latte and breakfast sandwich for the mornings, or a normal latte (sometimes with some extra sweetener) and a pastry for nights, was outside of some department store. He’d dipped in to find a coat his soon to be sister in law was begging anyone to find, and was happy to gloat about having the red jacket tucked securely into his bag, when he spotted you at the bus stop. It was drizzling, and you were tucked neatly under your umbrella, book held open with one hand as you scanned along the words. He noted, however, you were re-reading a fully tabbed book. His gaze must’ve lingered too long because you glanced up and caught his eye, making a flurry of an apology tumble out of his lips while you laughed softly and tucked a bookmark in and shut the book. He watches you tug it against your chest, chafing it to the fabric of your rain coat as you spoke,

“I’m beginning to wonder if you’re following me, Logan.”

Your voice was like honey, smooth and sweet. Your eyes sparkling in the yellow light from the street lamp and a playful smile tugging at the corners of your strawberry chapstick covered lips. He felt an odd pull to you and even with knowing he really needed to get him and get on the sim with the guys…he moved closer to you and lifted his hood against the drizzle. Your eyes flickered down to the Miami Dolphins logo, the hoodie itself an old favorite of his, you assumed from how many times you'd seen it.

“I could say the same to you, miss…” he hums, and before you can go to say your name he grins, “bibliophile.”

“Miss bibliophile?” You echo, eyebrows lifting as a small grin peeks at your mouth, “you make me sound like a criminal.”

“Well, tell me your name and maybe you won’t sound so villainous.” He shrugs as the bus rolls up to a stop. He steps back partly, trying to signal he won’t be following you onto the bus, and you smile as you toss your name over you shoulder with a quick ‘see you soon!’ and tuck into the red bus that’s pulled up. And when he sees you settle in your seat by the window, and reopen the same book you’d had tucked to your chest he takes a moment to read the name on the hot pink cover--Happy Place.

He doesn't see you for a month after that, you're not in any of your usual spots, he can't spot you in any crowds, and he feels a bit dejected. It takes both Alex and Oscar getting on his ass for him to finally admit, yes, okay maybe he has a crush on this girl he's only seen from afar. He knows nothing about her, nothing other than where she works and that she seems to like romance books, he can name every book you've read, every book he's seen you groan and slam shut (and the one time he watched you throw out a Colleen Hoover novel at work) and he can name every time he's seen you and okay, maybe he's a little obsessed but he's in love, damnit.

He's coming back to his apartment when he notices a new mat outside his previously empty neighbors apartment. It's a cute one, a pretty blue color, and as he opens his door and rolls his suitcase in he swears he hears movement in the hall. But he closes his door before he can see anything.

There's mail piled on the floor and he bends to pick it up, some bills he was expecting, spam mail, and then a little handwritten note. He hums, taking the letter in his hand as he drags himself and his bags to his bedroom and drops everything without much care before falling back on his bed. He thumbs the letter open, looking at the pretty handwriting and then read whatever the words say as he tries to not fall asleep.

'Dear neighbor in 221,

Hello! My name is Y/n Tiffany, but you can just call me Tiff! I'm a current uni student and small business co-owner (Circuit Coffee!) who just moved in next door! I'm a double major, Sports Business and Marketing and Advertising and Branding. I have classes at all odd hours of the day, and two cats who like to scream randomly so I'm sorry if me leaving early and coming home late, or Forza or Turi are a bother! If anything ever annoys you, I can make a pretty good matcha latte as an apology.

I would love to get to know my neighbors, so feel free to knock if you hear me inside!

thanks xx

y/n’

It takes Logan two weeks to hear you inside. He's coming back from a race late, letting Oscar crash at his for the night when he hears music from inside your room. As he fumbles for his keys Oscar gawks.

"Someone lives there now?" He asks and Logan nods, opening the door.

"Moved in two weeks ago, names Y/n, I havent had a chance to stop in and talk to her." Oscar nods as he lets his suitcase fall from his hand and slump against the wall with a soft bump. When he sets down his duffle bag, the music next door paused.

“Do you want anything to drink or something?” Logan asks, moving to grab a water as Oscar throws himself down on the couch and calls,

“Please! I think I’m actually dying.” Oscar groans and Logan laughs, tossing a water bottle over purposefully when Oscar not looking—causing a loud groan from the other side of the room. Through the wall, Logan can hear conversations as he kicks Oscar’s legs off the couch and sits down next to him.

“What time do you have to be back tomorrow? I can drive.” Logan leans back on the couch and rolls out his neck, the hours of sitting still on the flight making him sore all over.

“Not until like five, and I can always have Lily get me on her way back from university.” Oscar mumbles into his water bottle before taking a sip, “you don’t need to drive so out of the way.”

Logan goes to say it’s fine before he hears a few knocks at the door, he pauses, praying it’s not the annoying lady across the hall who always is asking him to quiet. Even if he’s silent. He gets up, Oscar leaning back to peek over the back of the couch to see, and neither of them expect to see you.

"Oh! It's you--uhm, shit," You whisper to yourself before snapping and pointing at him, "Logan!"

"Yes! Yeah, hi, hello," He stammers, cheeks bright red, "it's wonderful to finally meet you in a casual way."

"I heard you in here for the first time since moving in so I figured I'd swing by to say hello!" You grin, rocking from foot to foot. Logan looks at you and his throat goes dry, he doesn't know what to say and his face is red. You want to say something to break the silence but he leans forward to pull something off the side of your hoodie. A tab.

"Reading something new?" He hums, sticking the tab to your palm when you hold it up, "Haven't seen you use blue tabs before."

"Blue's the color the company I'm interning for uses," You giggle, but then pause and flicker your eyes up to him, "Wait, how do you know the color of my tabs?"

"You're reading For The Wolf, if I remember right thats a red book." He says softly, then his cheeks flush red when he realizes it is kinda a weird thing to notice, "I-I... you just always have a book on you, I caught on to paying attention to it. Figured I'd read some to give you some sort of real conversation next time I saw you."

"Well, I recommend For The Wolf. The relationship between Red and Eammon is really... sweet but also kinda dark? It's a good read, I can give you my copy with my little annotations..?" You suggest and Logan nods and he rubs his wrist idly.

"I'm not a big reader but I'll read it for you." He grins and you hold up a finger as you disappear into your room, to grab the book and to hide the fact every word he said made your skin bright red and made your heart feel like it was running a marathon. When he turns back to Oscar he gets a confused look, but before he can say anything you've returned to set the book in his hands.

"Enjoy." You whisper, and as he thanks you, your hands snag his arm and use it to elevate up to press a soft kiss on your cheek before you step back. Smiling at him, bright red cheeks in the low light making his stomach swirl, you disappear back into your apartment. Logan shuts the door, presses his back to it and looks at Oscar.

"I think...I think I've just fallen twice as hard." He whispers and Oscar claps, pointing at Logan and calling him down bad from across the room.

Oscar goes to sleep in Logan's bed, being a guest and all, and Logan sprawls out on the couch. He can't help but crack open the book, finding your little key for your tabs in the front, he trails his fingers along your loopy handwriting and grins to himself. The book starts off normal, pretty innocent, but he starts to realize just whats beneath the surface. With a fucked up sleep schedule to help, he ends up making it about halfway through the book before sleep finally takes him.

And when he wakes up, Oscar's making breakfast and teasing him about staying up too late to finish the book. And truth be told, Logan hated reading, but when it came to you he found he was willing to try. And he found even when Oscar poked fun at him, it didn't feel malicious, it made a warmth in his chest spread. Not that he knew why just yet, other than his silly little crush he'd never felt that jittery feeling.

Maybe it was really love?

Two days later he sees you when you're at work. It's right before the store closes and you're softly playing music as you scrub down the counters. Sunday shifts mean deep cleaning, and so you're stuck a bit later than usual.

"Hope it's not too late, Tiff." Logan says as the bell above him dings to signal he's shut the door. You turn down the music to a low hum as you turn to Logan with a bright grin.

"No, not at all. Still an hour on the clock." You move to make him his drinks as he pulls up a bar chair and sits down, digging in his bag to set down the book on the counter. You peek over and hum,

"How far in are you?" You ask and he can tell you expect him to only be a few chapters in when he says,

"Oh, I'm done."

You whip around, nearly spilling his latte on the counter and gawking at him, "after two days? I thought you said you weren't a reader!"

"I'm not, but your little annotations were so interesting I just kept going." He slides the book to you and notices you have a very similar one perched behind the counter, "Made it a bit easier to read, honestly--is that the same one?"

"The sequel, I actually just finished it." You take For The Wolf and replace it on the counter with For The Throne, "If you want another book to read. I need to know what you thought of Nevarah."

"She was kinda annoying."

"Right!" You groan and he laughs as you stir up his latte and hand it over before pulling out one of the last pastries in the container. It's some cinnamon thing, not that he really cares. It's probably not in his food plan either, but he doesn't care about that. He'd abandon all his rules if it meant he could be spending time with you. As you rant about how you didn't like her in the first book, but kinda did in the second, he leans forward to take in ever word that drips from your lips and you find that he's welcome company for your closing shift.

You're finished early, too, so you sit next to him on the only two stools you haven't lifted up. You'll mop tomorrow, you tell yourself as Logan recounts his reactions to Eammon and Red's connection and you blush when you tell him about one of their scenes you particularly enjoyed.

Which he matches your energy with by saying, "It didn't even say anything explicit and I was like--damn!"

Logan helps you lock up, since the coffee shop is open the latest all you have to do is lock the front door with the alarm system and your keys. He walks you home and bids goodbye in the doorway with For The Throne tucked in his arm and your instagram handle and phone number written on the back of his hand.

urusername made a new post!

liked by urbff, heidiberger, logansargeant, and 250 others...

urusername: i need to stop reading romance bc it makes me feel more single than i already am.

urbff: OMG MR WRONG NUMBER SHUT UPPP MY FAVORITE

heidiberger: give me those flowers.

⤷ urusername: bring ur boy to london and then we'll speak.

mickeyrickey: ti amo <3

taglist (thank u for the support!)

@struggling-with-delia

#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #logan sargeant x reader #formula one fanfiction #formula one fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #formula one x reader #f1 fic #f1 x you #logan sargeant fic #logan sargeant fanfic #logan sargeant x y/n #logan sargeant x you #ls2 fanfic #ls2 fic #ls2 x reader #ls2 x you

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lovekt · 5 months

Text

everything has changed - part i

blurb; you and lando are just friends. you both know that you're just friends, but the internet seems to think otherwise. in a joint effort to fix the mess you'd accidentally made, you realise that maybe it didn't need fixing after all.

pairing; lando norris x fem!reader

series library > part i > part ii

yourusername posted a story!

replies;

↳ yourbsfuser liesss

liked by charles_leclerc, f1gossip, and 1,384,261 others...

carlossainz55 end of season celebrations

mrperfectlyfine fekpjsfnewhef carlos i love you

swiftiestan NOT THE KISSING PIC...

↳ landosfearless does anyone know who it is?

↳ formulafearless im assuming lando and yn after the leaked photos last night

landosswift i have a feeling carlos was not supposed to post this

landolovrr ten bucks he deletes this within thirty mins

↳ mrperfectlyfine make it 20

liked by yourusername, landonorris, and 1,238,192 others...

carlossainz55 end of season celebrations

landolovrr AHAHA I WANT MY TWENTY BUCKS @mrperfectlyfine

↳ mrperfectlyfine don't gamble kids 😔

yourusername fun

↳ swiftiestan mhm i bet it was extra fun for you huh

formulafearless nah i can just imagine carlos getting yelled at

landonorris interesting

↳ landosswift WHAT DO YOU KNOW MR NORRIS

landosfearless poor carlos

charles_leclerc 🥳

liked by max_fewtrell, yourbestfriend, and 1,238,129 others...

landonorris snow days ⛄️

swiftiestan wheressss ynnn. we know shes there somewhere

↳ landosswift girl leave them alone

landosfearless bet yn threw that snowball to knock some sense into him

↳ landonorris i have more sense than u

↳ landosfearless AHAHA WHAT

↳ mrperfectlyfine lando honey i think we need to have a serious talk about beefing people online

user1 lando run from yn whilst u still can

max_fewtrell That the pic you choose for me, yeah calm

↳ formulafearless my fav wag

↳ landolovrr ur fav wags been replaced my friend

liked by yourbestfriend, carlossainz55, and 293,463 others...

yourusername a quiet life

yourbestfriend i knew it was you who stole my shades u rat

↳ yourusername whats my punishment bbg 😘

user1 i feel bad for lando tbh

landosswift no ski trip?

↳ formulafearless she never said when these pics were taken. could just be a photo dump

swiftiestan carlos??? hello???

landolovrr not carlos stalking his bsf's girlfriend

user2 imagine moving on that fast

user3 braveee showing ur face again 💀

taglist; @harrysdimple05, @alltoomaples

#lovekt writes #f1 #lando norris #formula 1 #lando norris x reader #lando norris fic #ln4 #lando norris imagine #lando norris smau #lando norris x you

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bruciemilf · 1 year

Text

Factually, I know Bruce is a bad cook. In my wonderland brain, however, he's a baker in some Hell's Kitchen-esque neighborhood, both flourishing and festering down the Narrow's ribs.

Curiously, The Bat seems particularly focused on protecting this joint. And whoever walks in it.

The classic myth of food is that it brings people together; That's the one thing everyone, under the greyscale rainbow in Gotham, has in common. Everyone has to eat, and everyone has to die.

And all kinds of people walk in there.

You get thieves with watchful, observant eyes nemorizing the concise, expert movement of your fingers and wonder how these machines of pain and violance can be delicate enough for sweets.

"I know what you are. I know who you are."

"I'm not exactly hiding. "

" I'm gonna rob you now."

" Take some tuna for Iris while you're at it,"

You get jesters with runny make-up and busted lips and a heartbroken hope in their eyes, crying over their fried ice cream,

" I'm stupid. I know -- I know what he's doing to me. And my mom's voice is just pounding in my ear, every fuckin' day, ' You're letting him, Harley. You're letting him and you deserve it. You should've married that fucking doctor. At least he didn't hit you, he just yelled and screamed and called you nasty names.'

Bruce drizzles some extra rainbow sprinkles on her ice cream. " And that voice is wrong." And he'll keep saying that voice is wrong till the day Harley doesn't like ice cream anymore. And that day doesn't exist.

And slowly, you learn not to be impressed. When you live with wolves, you sharpen your teeth. Dogs do what dogs do; they eat. An angry dog is a hungry dog.

And this boy, with a red scarf over his nose, waving a gun in Bruce's face, is looking plenty angry.

"Just fucking stay there, okay?" He'd probably sound more threatening without the glass tremble in his voice. "I'm just gonna take some cash, and,--"

Bruce's calm is frosty; He's got experience with guns being pointed at his face. " Your safety's on. "

Teal eyes are glossy, shining with feral, living fear, like it's Bruce who has him cornered, backed up to a wall and looming death over him. there's no kids in crime alley.

Whatever they are, they can't afford that title. But he looks exactly how boys in crime alley look; Young and scared and haunted.

"What's your name, honey?"

"...Jason."

" Are you hungry, Jason?"

The way he wolfs down three plates with tears running down his cheek answers Bruce plenty.

"You can have the cash, " I don't really need it, goes unspoken. It already feels slimy enough to take it. The charities and well- filled cups of homeless people don't ease that. "I'm guessing you need it."

"It's for my dad," 'Dad' drips from Jason's lips like liquid hatred, " He told me to rob you cause you never call the cops."

" Calling criminals to stop other criminals seems a little counter-productive, " He needs to do something with his hands; Or he'll take Jason and hug him and drag him to the manor, where Alfred can prepare the fluffiest bed, and the warmest bath. So he's packing him something extra, to take at home.

Still. Hearing Jason laugh makes it worth it.

" You can say you got dinner, too."

" I'm not giving Willis shit, " Willis. One of Harvey's guns. They need a chat about working hazards. " Gonna take this to Dickie and Timmy, thought. Dick's gonna love this..."

And Jason, Bruce comes to find out, doesn't know himself half as good as he knows his siblings.

He learns Timmy, the baby brother, loves to skate, and he's the reason they go to the ER every other Thursday. He learns Dick can never run out of energy; Learns he's running on spite alone and they can't go a day without fighting.

And when Bruce is fighting Nightwing, the newest villain in Gotham, he learns both he and Dick can land the meanest Produnova recorded.

#dc #bruce wayne #dc comics #jason todd #au #alternative universe #batdad #battinson #harley quinn #dick grayson #young jason todd #i made him like 16 here so!!!#gonna have to think abt villain batkids and hero bruce soon tho #text #text post

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secretwritingspot · 6 months

Text

Sea Legs

Pairing: OPLA Sanji x Reader

Rating/Content Warnings: definitely PG/PG-13 at most, wholesome fluff. Implied soft!dom Sanji but like you can read it without that tbh, he's just being assertive. But like...we know.

Summary: request for @justyouraveragefangirl1967 - soft!dom Sanji taking care of Reader with chronic pain

Disclaimer(s): first and foremost, I personally am not someone who suffers with chronic pain, but I tried to write this as accurately as possible with feedback from a friend who does. It's still entirely possible that I got a few things wrong because the closest personal experience I could draw from was the pain that comes with hypermobility. That all being said, I hope I did it justice <3

It's far past the crack of dawn, and yet the sun rolls over you like a new discovery- unpleasant, if only for the moment.

You don't do much but groan at first, slinging your arm across your face as the sound quickly dissolves into a whine, the ship already tossing. The gentle movement, which you would normally find incredibly soothing, makes your stomach roil. It takes a few moments of unplacable, vague discomfort before the reason why registers in your mind.

Ah, that, you think as teeth bare in a hiss.

There's an empty ache running down your legs, dull but no more awful for it, twinging like the joints in your knees, hips need to crack but won't.

You allow yourself a moment to wallow before taking a deep breath, swinging your legs over the side of the bed with as little actual movement from them as possible. It won't be that bad, it won't be that bad, it won't be that-

A whimper escapes parted lips when you put your weight on them to stand, steadying your wobbling self on your nightstand. It is just as bad as you expected it to be, as bad as it always was on days like this, but you knew that allowing yourself that white lie was the only way you'd get out of bed at all.

The ship sways underneath you again and this time the bed isn't there to catch you, the movement sending you stumbling slightly for balance in a way that shoots pins and needles up your legs, a different kind of pain that came with taking your first steps when you got like this.

It got easier after a few minutes of walking around. Kinda.

(It did not.)

Before you had decided to join the crew of the Merry, your friends had teased in that knowing way that only friends can, even with dark subjects, that you'd need to find your sea legs first. You'd laughed and told them you hadn't even found your land legs yet.

The memory is fleeting and it isn't long before you've (mostly) stabilized yourself, albeit painfully. You lurch to your dresser, throwing on something new enough to hopefully not look as rumpled as you felt, and practice your walking on the way to the door.

Step, breathe, step, breathe- one foot in front of the other.

When trembling hands find the doorknob you tell yourself that the shaking is only from being tired. You never were a morning person. It doesn't take too many tries before you manage to open it, each step you take getting steadily more practiced and confident, despite the gritted teeth hidden behind your lips.

It's as close to normal walking as you can manage by the time you emerge in the galley, an imitation learned from years of practice. Your knees feel like they'll give out but you know they won't, not for a few hours or so.

For now, you are normal.

Or as close to it as you can manage.

"The fuck are you doing?"

It isn't even a second after stepping into the room that you hear the voice, the solitary other person in the galley with you. The usually honeyed tone is, despite remaining gentle, firmer than you're used to. It's a tone of voice you've only ever heard from the blond-haired man in...other situations.

Ah, right. Him.

Him, who knew too much, saw too much with eyes far too pretty, paid enough attention to notice things about you that you hadn't yet. The ever-present thorn in your side. Though maybe that was too harsh a word for a man as warm or soft as Sanji.

"I don't know what you're talking about, I'm just getting breakfast-"

An unfortunately timed rock of the ship sends you stumbling, disrupting your steps that are just light enough because they're practiced, has your feet landing too hard in a way your legs protest against with a sharp sting of pain.

In an instant he's on you, holding you up like the nights when the crew goes out drinking, his volunteered job to hold you stumbling home. The look in his eyes is different now, though, as he mumbles to himself under his breath.

"Absolutely not."

His voice is laced with an obvious frustration and for a moment you feel bad, unused to that tone being used with you.

Of course, you know it isn't really directed at you. He's talking to himself, after all.

He drags you back to your room without much of a fuss, movements still deceptively gentle as he supports most of your weight for you to keep it off your legs.

He knows. Somehow, always, he knows.

He hadn't been the first you'd told - to everyone's surprise (including your own) that had been Zoro. Not Sanji and his sweetness, not Luffy and his stubborn care for his crew, not Nami for the safe, conspiratorial environment she created with you, as though even if her trust was hard to earn and dangerous to break, there was a sort of camaraderie between the two of you in simpler ways. You two against the boys.

No, it was not any of them. Any of the logical choices.

It had been when you were reading in the sun on deck, Zoro training a bit away. This was the kind of contact he liked, you were discovering. Companionable silence with the two of you doing your own thing while sharing the same space. It was easier than small talk, anyway.

You didn't mind, really. The two of you got on well enough and it was a simple expression of friendship, sharing the deck.

When he'd finished, the sun considerably lower in the sky, he'd complained about feeling faint. Not to a concerning extent, but there was an undeniable ache in his muscles that came from training so relentlessly every day. You didn't even think before slipping out that you felt like that a lot of the time without even doing anything to cause it.

Aside from a concerned squint, a cock of his head, and eventual, "...that sucks", the information didn't seem to phase him. You noticed he was less hard on you on days when you weren't much help to the crew, though.

For that, you were grateful. In his own way, that was him "helping".

Sanji's "helping" is, unsurprisingly, far different from Zoro's. After a few awkward moments of trying and failing to stumble back to your bed, he simply picks you up, as if you weighed nothing, carrying you the rest of the way.

This part - the flushed, apologetic look down at the floor once he'd set you back on your bed - was always the worst. There's a thick feeling of disappointment, even though you know it's all in your head. With his arms crossed across his chest as you avoid his eyes, though...it doesn't feel like it.

"...I thought-"

"I know what you thought."

He's quick to cut you off as soon as you break the silence, too uncomfortable with awkward pauses like that one to let them stretch on any longer than necessary.

The response is not cold, but it's not the Sanji you're used to either. It is not coddling or doting and overwhelmingly affectionate. It is not a happy sound. You keep your head down and look away, clearing your throat and willing tears not to form in the pinpricks you feel behind your eyes.

He sighs, sitting down next to you.

"...you know I worry."

There's more silence and you sniffle, fidgeting with the sleeves of your shirt. Of course he does. Of course, he does.

He seems to sense the tension and guilt in your motions, offering a hand to you in comfort. Even now, you take it. You know, when offered, you will always take his hand.

"I know it's rough. I know that you...want to help. Want things to be normal..."

A part of you wants to scream that he doesn't at all, doesn't know anything about what it's like. But you don't. You know that they're words you'd regret tomorrow. You know that he's trying.

"Love, I just want you safe."

Is his final, exasperated plea, your traitorous heart doing flips at the nickname.

You know. Of course you know he wants you safe, he wouldn't ever be this direct with you if it involved anything else. Your safety, above all else, was paramount. Though you could fight or delay or try to bargain with him if you wanted, that's the moment you know you've lost. You know the outcome, even if a stubborn part of you doesn't want to admit it.

"...lie down for me? Please?"

And he knows exactly what to say, "for me" and "please", the words lighting up a part of your brain that doesn't let you question him. Instead you nod, lying down slowly before curling up on your side. He gives you a wry smile, crouching down to stay eye-level with you and pulling the blankets up to cover you, eyes softening.

"What am I gonna do with you, huh?"

The question is asked to no one in particular, his voice is liquid velvet. He lightly taps the tip of your nose, shaking his head fondly as he tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

"Do I have to?"

It's the first time you've spoken in a while, voice raw as you whisper the question.

It is the same every time- you ask him the same question, and he gives you the same answer.

He sighs, looking down for a moment before meeting your eyes again, reaching a hand out to lightly stroke across your cheek.

"Sorry, sweetheart. You have to."

It's not the answer you want, but it's the one that's familiar. And in a way, that's a comfort in and of itself.

His eyes are bright and lovesick as he looks after you, cataloging every freckle, eyelash, tint on your skin like you were the answer, though the question you couldn't be sure of. He stares like the light bends around your face, like you're the only source of illumination he's ever seen. The silence is comfortable and warm, intimacy inherent in it all as he traces your face lightly, making his examination with slow and steady strokes.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to stay here. Just for a while.

Eventually, he rises from his position at your side, standing up and straightening out his suit as he does. The distance makes you whine, though you bite it back, and he shakes his head fondly, voice low and calm.

"Just going to inform the others I'll be busy today. Stay put."

The door closes gently behind him and, despite yourself...you do.

#vinsmoke sanji #sanji x reader #opla sanji #opla sanji x reader #opla #opla x reader #sanji x you #opla Sanji x you #opla x you #one piece #one piece live action #one piece x reader #one piece x you #opla x y/n #opla sanji x y/n #sanji x y/n

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thursdayygrrrl · 6 months

Text

inevitably, inetivably, inebivatly

⌦ .｡.:*♡

characters: actress!wanda maximoff x gn!reader

genre: fluff, slightly suggestive

summary: After Wanda finishes filming a day drinking segment on Seth Meyers’ show to promote her current project, you take care of her.

word count: 2,061

a/n: i was watching random yt vids and came across the day drinking with seth meyers segments (the lorde and the dua lipa ones) and i just thought to write something short and sweet about it. i have not written in a while and english is not my first language, so please bear with me. this is also my first time writing for wanda. you can read it on ao3 (here) or under the cut. regardless, i hope u enjoy it !!

Your phone tells you it’s currently 3:46 PM, but the way Wanda is absolutely wasted makes it seem like 4 AM after a wild night out. She agreed to go on Late Night with Seth Meyers and participate in the day drinking segment. When the offer first came up, mentioned by her team, you were both apprehensive. But after some talk about it, guaranteeing her safety on set and the fan reception it would bring in, she ultimately agreed to it. Also, seeing your wife have some fun and let loose is one of the best sights ever. So here you were, hand on her waist, guiding her to your car after the shoot.

“Okay, Wands, we’re almost there,” you say gently.

She mumbles something. “Hm?” You ask her, wanting not to miss anything.

“Don’t wanna…”

You suddenly remember that she’s wearing shoes which, honestly, looked painful to wear. You take this as a cue and carry her bridal style the rest of the way to the car. A little yelp escapes her in surprise when you lift her with ease.

“Better?” You ask her. She hums happily and buries her head into the crook of your neck. You kiss the top of her head as you walk nearer to the vehicle. Once you’re there, you bend down slightly to open the passenger door.

Wanda removes her head from its former position once she hears the door open. She furrows her brow in that adorable manner you can never seem to get over. “Seth’s like… scary good at making people drink a lot a lot,” She slurs as you help her onto the seat and put her seatbelt on. “Yeah?” you try to keep her engaged.

“Mhm. Did you see me with those crazy cocktails? And those shots too?” Wanda rambles, emoting and gesturing without abandon, while you get behind the wheel. You chuckle, “Yeah, you took them like a champ, honey.”

“I sure did, Y/N,” She nods to herself proudly. You prep for the drive, making sure the temperature is comfortable and your phone is connected to the Bluetooth system.

You open Spotify on your phone and gesture it towards her, “Any requests?”

She shakes her head, “Whatever DJ Y/N wants!” She giggles at the impromptu nickname she calls you. Her laugh is like music to your ears, you smile along with her.

“Alright, alright, alright!” You put your joint playlist on shuffle and start driving. One of your favorite songs comes on and Wanda starts dancing along, at least as much as the seatbelt allows. You join in by tapping your finger on the wheel and lipsyncing exaggeratedly. “I love this one!” She speaks loudly, still dancing, unaware of her voice modulation.

You match her energy, “I can tell!” This drive-turned-dance party continues for a few more songs until a slower one starts playing. She runs a hand through her hair and settles into the seat with a content sigh.

“Now that was fun, Y/N. We need to do that more.”

“Dance?”

She nods with an air of authority, “Absolutely.”

“Noted, darling,” You flash her a smug smile and she blushes.

She slumps in her seat and covers her face with her hands. “God, Y/N, that petname is so corny. And old-fashioned.”

You shrug and keep driving. “Sure, but you know you like it.”

She giggles, conceding, “Yeah, yeah. I do.”

You let the music take over as you make your way home. After a while, you look over to check on Wanda only to find that she’s blissfully asleep. Her copper waves are splayed across her shoulder. You smile to yourself as you park on the driveway. You take a moment to just admire her, to be enchanted by the curve of her cheek, the slope of her nose, and the peaceful expression on her face.

You leave the car and walk to her side, opening the passenger door as quietly as you can. Wanda stirs anyway. She whines softly when her sleep is interrupted.

“It’s okay, sweet girl, we’re home now. Okay? Just let me take care of you.”

She nods as you unbuckle the seatbelt and carry her again, this time into your home. She holds you as if her life depended on it.

It was a challenge to get the front door open, but when you do, you immediately close it with your hip. You kick your shoes off and make your way to the bedroom. You lay her gently on the bed, which she immediately curls up in, then help take her heels off and pick out a change of clothes for her. The noise of clothes ruffling alerts Wanda. Her voice is muffled by the pillows and sheets surrounding her.

“May I wear one of your hoodies tonight? Pretty please?”

“You don’t have to ask, Wands. The answer is yes every time.”

“Thank you, Y/N,” she says, a wide smile on her face while she drags out the last syllable of your name.

You look through your closet for some random sleep shorts and the exact hoodie you know she’s referring to. You also know how diligent she is with skincare, so you take the essentials with you too. Once you’ve got them, you go over to the bed again and bend so you’re at eye level with her.

“Sit up and let’s get you into something cozier, hon. Yeah?”

She wiggles her eyebrows playfully while following your instructions. “Ooooo, you wanna see me naked, huh?”

You try to suppress the growing smile on your face as you unzip the back of her dress. A blush creeps up on your face despite wanting to keep it at bay. Wanda teases you, “You totally do, Y/N! Look at you!”

The dress falls off her shoulders, revealing her upper body. She makes an excited noise. You take the dress and toss it on the floor, leaving it a problem for later, already coming up with an apology for her meticulous stylist. You sit in front of her and press a kiss on her shoulder as you unhook her bra. “I do, but I want you to be comfortable above all,” You whisper into her smooth skin.

“Boo, you’re no fun,” She pouts like a petulant child, but you know she would never mean anything bad by it. You help her slip into the shorts and the oversized hoodie. When her head pops out, a goofy smile is on her face. “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Wanda.”

Now, you take her preferred cleansing balm and warm it in your hands. She closes her eyes as you massage it gently all over her face, to remove the makeup she’s wearing. Then, you take a damp cloth to rinse away the milky residue. She moans quietly at your touch.

Her eyes are still closed as you prepare to finish her routine with her favorite cleanser. “You’re so good with your hands, Y/N.” You chuckle at her comment, unsure if she meant the double entendre.

“I mean it,” She says sincerely as you keep working on her skincare, first with the cleanser then a clean washcloth to dry off. You cradle her face with your hand. She moves slightly to kiss your palm.

“I’m glad to be of service then.”

Your hand moves to rest on her thigh instead. Her face gradually gets closer and her lips meet yours. It’s surprisingly gentle and tender, especially for someone so drunk and usually so eager. You let her deepen it, let her tongue venture into the familiar environment of your mouth, until she pulls away to catch her breath. You smile and give her one last peck before standing up and gathering the stuff up off the bed.

“I’m gonna get some water and some painkillers too. You’re gonna need it.”

Wanda scoffs and clumsily tilts her head upward to maintain eye contact with you. She takes her pointer finger and pokes your chest. “Please. Judging from a while ago, I could outdrink you, Natasha, and Yelena. Combined!”

You shoot her a questioning look, stifling a smile. “Sure, honey.” With that, you leave the room briefly and she lays back down. She lands on her back with a soft thud and stretches her arms and legs out like a starfish. “Y/N,” she calls out. “I am so grateful for this bed.”

With a bottle of water and a small dish containing some pills in hand, you enter again. “The bed is pretty great. It’s done us a lot of good.” You place the dish on the bedside table and open the water bottle, urging her to sit up again. “Here, Wands, drink up.”

She closes her eyes tightly and shakes her head. She makes a noise of disapproval that is not missed by your attentive ears. You tilt your head to the side, thinking of ways to try and persuade her. Wanda is stubborn, you knew that from years of experience, but you also knew that she would always fold at your actions if you played your cards just right.

Mustering up your best acting skills, you flash her your best wide-eyed, puppy-like gaze. Her eyes unscrew the tiniest bit, but it’s not enough. So you place the opened water bottle on the side table and move on to the next course of action.

Laying down and nuzzling into her side. A hum, much like a cat’s satisfied purr, leaves her lips.

“You like that?”

Wanda nods. “Yeah. A lot.” You then subtly move to sit up, leaning your back against the headboard. She whines at the gradual loss of contact. You can’t help but giggle softly as you pat the spot beside you.

“Come up here, then. Sit up with me. I’m all yours.”

She begrudgingly does so, this time settling into your side and leaning most of her weight on you. You take this moment to brush some of the stray hairs away from her face and kiss her temple. She practically melts under your fawning.

You take your chance, continuing to play sweetly with her hair. “Now that you’re up, how about that water?”

A beat, a pause, until she yields.

“Okay, okay. Fine.”

A proud squeal you were trying to suppress escapes you. Wanda shoots you a knowing look, “Such a dork.” You quickly hand her the bottle, which she accepts and drinks from gratefully.

“Yeah, but this dork is just happy to get you hydrated before you inevitably fall asleep.”

“In-ev-it-ab-ly. Inetivably.” She sounds the word out and scrunches her nose when she mispronounces it. “That word is funny, Y/N. Inebivatly!” Both of you explode into laughter. She continues rambling about etymology and phonetics, gesturing wildly with the half-empty water bottle. "Woah!" You take it back before any of its contents threaten to spill.

“Hey! I was drinking that.” She pouts. You do your best to stay firm and mature, to resist your instinctual response to give in.

“Or were you using it as a prop?”

“Mmmh, you got me there.”

Both of you settle back on the bed. Wanda takes her arm and wraps it around your midsection. Her head rests on your chest and your steady heartbeat grounds her. You alternate between caressing her hair and languidly stroking her side. The setting sun’s golden light creeps into the windows, bathing everything in a warm tone. After a comfortable silence, she speaks softly.

“M’sleepy…”

“Go ahead and rest, darling. I’ll be right here.”

“But there’s so many hours left in the day. Only old people sleep this early,” She drags the last word out in a whine.

“That’s okay, we have tomorrow.” You assure her like you unfailingly do.

Wanda hums in contemplation before nodding approvingly, “Yeah, tomorrow.”

You keep soothing her until her eyelids eventually close, to hide those gorgeous eyes you could get lost in forever, and her breathing steadies and turns into quiet snores.

It is a guarantee that Wanda’s hangover tomorrow will be rough, but you don’t mind at all. It just gives you more permission to give her extra affection, attention, love, and care. Even in her messiest and most raw moments, there is nowhere in the world you would rather be than with her. This, you know, is certain. It is fated. It is inevitable.

#ky writes!#oneshot #fanfic #marvel #marvel oneshot #marvel fanfic #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda x reader #wanda x you

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