#Making it a little too big is far preferable to making it too small - more likely to get crushed by not noticing it that way

[hollytoshaw]

noisy neighbour part two | harry lewis

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summary: in which y/n owns a coffee shop and harry is her noisy neighbour

word count : 5.7k

part one here

a/n: this is part two of my noisy neighbour series!!! read part one before this <3 there will be more parts to this as its a proper slow burnerrr. sorry for the slow updates i haven't forgotten about this series lol xxx

masterlist <3333

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Y/N had come to the conclusion that life was much better when she didn’t let silly lies get in her way. It had been a week since she had come clean to her noisy neighbour, or Harry, as she now knew him, and life couldn’t get any better. 

After the pair had laughed about her moment of foolishness and how they were both a little too loud for their own good, they were able to move past it all and properly get to know the person they were living next door to. 

Y/N found out more about Harry’s whole ‘Youtuber’ lifestyle. He was part of a group of seven boys that made videos that came out every Sunday, but he also had other channels in which he’d play computer games and do funny reaction videos—the source of all that playful shouting she had heard through the walls. He told her that he’d gotten bored of his old apartment and wanted a change of scenery, so he chose the small-scale but nonetheless nice flat next door to hers. He lived alone and was 27; his favourite colour was blue, and his favourite cake was chocolate. He liked coffee,cycling, surfing, and the occasional beer, and he loved travelling anywhere in the world, near or far; he just loved exploring places. He had two younger siblings, a brother and a sister, and was from a little channel island named Guernsey. Y/N had never been.

She told him all the little details she could think of about herself in return. She was always sort of bad at introductions, cringing when they used to say ‘’Tell us three facts about you’’ in school, never knowing what to say. But she managed nonetheless. She told him all about her dream of having a cafe of her own and how she came to do so. She loved old music, mainly Abba, to which he laughed and told her he knew already, making a playful jab at the singing he had heard from next door. She too lived alone but was 26; her favourite colour was green, and her favourite cake was lemon. She also liked coffee, not so much cycling or surfing, and opted for cider whenever she went to the pub. While she hadn’t been travelling much herself due to paying off her university debts and then starting up her coffee shop, she still shared the desire to travel anywhere in the world—far away from London. 

It was such a breath of fresh air for Y/N. Owning a cafe all on her own meant early mornings and late nights, and her weekends were either spent visiting her parents or nestled away in her flat watching episodes of Vanderpump Rules or trying new recipes for baked goods that she was thinking about selling in the cafe. Because of this, she had found it hard to find time to make friends, and while she had her fair share, she barely saw them; they either had big city jobs or were living outside of London and starting a family. It just felt nice for Y/N to just sit and chat with someone a similar age to her and talk about nonsense for a while. 

While the conversation the pair shared was cut short by Harry needing to get to work and record a podcast, they shared numbers (only in case one of them got a parcel for the other, of course), and Harry said he’d pop back in soon to finish where they left off. 

So that was it. It had been a week, and she hadn’t seen him since, but that was all she could think about. It wasn’t even like Y/N had a crush, or so she convinced herself, but she longed to talk to him again; it just felt nice. While the occasional old lady that came into the cafe was great to chat with, asking away about how her day was going or what their plans were for the day, she still preferred the little chat she had with Harry; it just felt different, and she couldn’t put her finger on why. 

But then she got all in her own head. Maybe he didn’t come back in because he realised she was a bit weird, having lied about living next door and that he was only being friendly and entertaining the conversation, but in reality, he didn’t want to be talking to her at all. Y/N knew she was probably getting a bit ahead of herself, but she couldn’t help but think the worst. She had always been a bit of a pessimist. 

It was now Monday again, and the cafe had just begun to die down after the lunch rush. After cleaning tables and putting cups and saucers back in place, Y/N finally felt like she had it all under control. There was no one in the shop, and looking at the time, the clock read 1:00 p.m., a perfect chance for Y/N to have her lunch break. She had scoffed a croissant earlier that morning and topped herself up with flat whites throughout the day, but now she was starving. She walked over to the door, flipping the ‘open’ sign to ‘close’ and walked back behind the counter to prepare herself something nice to eat. 

She wasn’t long into making a ham and cheese toastie when she heard three loud knocks on the glass door. Usually she’d shout ‘’We’re closed’’ and continue what she was doing, but another three knocks followed, and she thought she’d just let them in and eat her sandwich another time. 

As she turned around, she saw a hooded figure standing outside the door—it was lashing rain in London today (shocker) —but she could barely make their face out through the raindrops on the door. Nearing closer, she realised it was Harry. After a week, he’d returned. Maybe her pessimism wasn’t always right.  

Letting him in, she moved back as he took his coat off, the black puffer soaked from the awful weather. 

''Hello, you,’’ he smiled, lifting the hood of his jumper from his head. ‘’Didn’t realise you closed this early.’’

‘’Hiya,’’ she smiled back. ‘’Just closed for lunch, that’s all.’’

Furrowing his brows, he replied, ''U-Oh, right, I can come back later if you’re busy.’’

She laughed, taking his coat from him to hang it up on the coat stand next to the door. ‘’Don’t be silly. I’m only having a toastie, nothing special.’’

‘’Lovely stuff,’’ he said, clapping his hands together and following her towards the counter.

‘’How’ve you been?’’ she asked. ‘’Horrible weather today, isn’t it?’’ Classic brit filling empty silence with talks of the weather.

‘’I know, proper pain in the arse,’’ he laughed. ‘’Been good, though. Just back from a holiday with the boys, but so typical, I’ve come back to the shittest weather possible.’’

''Ooh, lucky you,’’ Y/N smiled as she resumed the making of her lunch. ‘’Go anywhere nice?’’

‘’Went to the Maldives for two days for a video,’’ he said nonchalantly, ‘’was a good laugh though.’’

‘’Wow, that must've been unreal.’’ she gasped, placing her sandwich on a small green plate before looking back at him. ‘’Can I get you anything to eat? I feel like a knob if I’m sat scoffing my face and I’ve not made you anything.’’

Harry smiled, watching as the girl moved her plaited hair so that it was out of her face. He thought she was quite pretty with her hair tied back, freckled cheeks, and a peach-coloured blusher on her face. She was wearing her same old green apron, but instead of the jumper she had on the last time he saw her, she had a striped long-sleeve top paired with black jeans. Yeah, she was really quite pretty, he thought. 

‘’No, I’m fine, thanks. I got a meal deal in the airport earlier,’’ he paused. ‘’And I’m trying to keep off the cakes, but they do look bloody brilliant today.’’

Y/N laughed, ''Well, you’re in the wrong place if you’re trying to keep off the sweet stuff. I got cakes coming out of my ears in this place.’’

The conversation felt easy for Y/N. It was almost weird to think about their first few conversations, stiff and awkward, thinking the other was a bit rude and not really interested in making small talk. But now, it felt like they could talk for ages; the initial uneasiness was now a distant memory. 

‘’So what brings you here?’’ she started. ‘’Surprised you’re not straight to bed after that long flight.’’

They sat down at a little table in front of the counter, Y/N enjoying her lunch and Harry watching, fumbling with his fingers. 

''Oh, trust me, I’m knackered.’’ he laughed. ‘’But I thought I’d pop in. Remember, I said I would last time, finish where we left off, and all.’’

Course Y/N was remembered. It had been all she thought about for the last seven days. 

‘’Oh right, yeah’’ she said between mouthfuls of her sandwich. ‘’Well,tell me all about this Maldives trip then.’’

✩ ✩ ✩

A few days had passed since Y/N and Harry’s last encounter. And that was all she could think about.

After leaving her cafe to go back to his flat, the pair shared a few jokey text messages: Harry sending her random pictures he’d taken on his holiday and Y/N sharing snaps of new baked goods that she’d made, with him responding with a classic ‘Save me one.’ It was nothing serious, but it was nice to have playful conversations away from her busy working day and Harry’s video shoots. 

Despite only a small proximity separating the pair, Y/N longed for the next time she might bump into him, almost hoping that a parcel would get delivered to the wrong address to give her some reason to knock on his door or that he’d finally succumb to his sweet tooth and trod down the stairs to try whatever fresh baked treats she had to offer. 

It made her laugh that only a few weeks ago she’d dreaded the thought of seeing him and hated the thought of having to make small talk with him, but now it was all she’d thought of. And don’t get her wrong, she was no romanticist or anything of that sort but when she found something she liked or in this case, a person she liked talking to, it was hard for her to take her mind away from them. 

Another day had come to an end for Y/N. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee lingered in the air as she wiped down the last table in her cosy little shop. It had been a long day for her, filled with the hustle and bustle of customers coming in and out. She felt swept off her feet trying to make sure everything ran smoothly and made a mental note that maybe it was time to hire some help.

Now, as the clock struck closing time, Y/N couldn’t wait to retreat to the comfort of her upstairs flat. Locking up the cafe, she made her way up the narrow staircase and into her home. The familiar creak of the stairs under her feet echoed in the empty hallway—a comforting sound that signalled the end of another day’s work. 

As she reached the door, she let out a contented sigh—peace at last. Turning the key in the lock, she pushed open the door and stepped into her sanctuary.

The soft glow of string lights greeted her, casting a warm and inviting atmosphere through the room. She’d forgotten to turn them off the night before and was surprised the batteries had lasted the day. Kicking off her shoes, she padded across the hardwood floor to her living area, where a plush green sofa beckoned her to sink into its comforting embrace.

Her days always went the same after work. She’d come upstairs, sit down on the sofa, and stick some random television show on for some background noise, needing to just sit for a moment after being on her feet all day. The stress of the day always melted away as she allowed herself to just be in the moment, relishing the peace and quiet of her own space. 

Next to the sofa, a stack of books awaited her attention. She had been reading some Dolly Alderton novel that a friend had recommended, and so far she was loving it. There was nothing quite like getting lost in the pages of a good book; all she needed now was a nice cup of tea, and she’d be in heaven. 

It’d felt like hours had passed as Y/N finally got to the end of another chapter. The gentle hum of the TV in the background continued as Y/N settled down the book and turned her attention to her phone, wondering if she had any new messages from a certain someone. And lo and behold, she did. 

Clicking the message open, she saw a picture that Harry had taken from what she assumed to be his living room. Her view was similar, just at a different angle—the Shoreditch’s streets looking equally as ‘London’-esque from both their windows. He had added a little message to the bottom of it: ‘This weather is mental. Think it calls for tea and some cake.’ Y/N hadn’t seen the message with her phone on ‘Do not disturb’ and her eyes well focused on the piece of fiction she was reading, and he had sent it over twenty minutes ago, but she assumed he was still next door, not wanting to dare step out in the treacherous rain. 

She wondered if he was hinting at her to send him a text and offer some cakes from downstairs. Or maybe even invite him over to try the pastries she’d sent him a picture of only a few days ago. Of course, Y/N didn’t really know if he was hinting at anything, but she really hoped he was. The time on her phone showed it was just past 7:00 p.m., and having eaten a small lunch earlier in the day, she too was in the mood for some cake and tea, not really bothered by the thought of cooking dinner and having to wash up loads of pots and pans in the kitchen.

She lifted herself up from the comfy sofa and into her kitchen space, opening the fridge to see if she had any nice delights to cure her craving. There sat a small blue tupperware, inside two vanilla cupcakes, left over from the day, perfect. Two. Perfect. 

Whether he had been hinting or not, Y/N took the tupperware in hand and stuffed her feet into her fluffy slippers. Unlocking her door and making her way down the stairs towards his door, she felt giddy. She thought it was a nice gesture to turn up with a little treat that he had longed for, and she hoped maybe the two could share a nice chat over a cup of tea as they looked out on the London rain. It’d be nice.

As she got to the door, she lifted her hand up, ready to press the buzzer to his blue door, but as she did, she heard the faint strains of music drifting through the air, accompanied by a girl’s laughter. Her hand froze, and a wave of disappointment washed over her. Doubt crept into Y/N’s mind, and she couldn’t bring herself to interrupt whatever moment Harry was sharing with another.

With a heavy sigh, Y/N turned on her heel and retreated back up the stairs to her flat. She knew she was being silly, but she felt a sting in her heart, and she couldn’t shake the image of Harry’s front door from her mind. 

Back in her kitchen. Y/N set the cupcakes on the counter; her appetite for something sweet was now long gone. She wondered if she had misinterpreted Harry’s kindness and their conversations as something more. Sure, the two had shared a few playful texts, updates throughout the day, and random pictures, but that was the extent of it so far. Y/N felt like an idiot. 

She never did respond to Harry’s text that night.

✩ ✩ ✩

Another few days passed, and Y/N had finally gotten over her little strop. Well…sort of. She didn’t have much to go on other than the fact that she’d heard a woman’s voice and lots of laughter, which she knew didn’t necessarily mean Harry had a girlfriend, but she'd rather nip her feelings in the bud than wonder about the what-ifs that could of been had he opened the door. Plus, Y/N felt a bit silly. He’d never given an indication that their chats were anything more than friendly, and the texts they shared weren’t suggestive in any way—I mean, you could probably send your mother the same things. So she knew it was better to cut her little strop short before she got herself all tangled up in her feelings.

She’d had another long week in the cafe, busy with big orders and endless amounts of coffee, and she knew it was definitely time she put out an advertisement for a job vacancy. But that was a job for another day as she was currently getting ready to go out with a few friends in a pub just near Old Street. It had been a while since she’d found the time to meet up with people (with their big city jobs and her never ending hustle in the cafe) and considering she’d given Harry radio silence for the past few days, this was the most socialising she’d done outside of the occasional old lady in the cafe. So, Y/N was buzzing. She reached for her favourite pair of Adidas Sambas, their sleek black design accentuating her style. The leather was very worn despite carrying many stories of past adventures. Y/N made a mental note that she’d get a new pair out of her next paycheck. Her outfit was bold yet chic, a lot different from her usual jeans, t-shirt, and green apron combo. A leopard print midi skirt is paired with a black fitted crop top and a leather jacket over her shoulders to give the outfit unmistakable flair. She always enjoyed dressing up, even if it was just for a quick pint—it just gave her something to do and was a nice change from her usual get-up. 

With a flick of her wrist, she grabbed her essentials—a phone, cardholder, and keys—and headed out the door. It wasn’t raining in London for once, with spring slowly creeping in, so Y/N didn’t bother with an umbrella, deciding her jacket was enough protection from whatever the weather had in mind. It felt nice as she walked along the busy Shoreditch streets with the city lights beckoning, couples holding hands, groups of friends laughing—it made her heart squeeze, and she felt like the night was promising her excitement and all sorts of possibilities.

/

The pub night was everything Y/N had hoped it would be. It had been a welcome contrast of warmth and laughter, and seeing her friends, who usually worked nine to five, was a breath of fresh air. With flushed cheeks from all the lively conversations and talks of fond memories, not to mention the five pints of fruity cider she had drank, Y/N left the pub with the cheesiest grin on her face. A few kisses to the cheek and warm hugs later, Y/N waved goodbye to her group of mates and headed back towards the Old Street roundabout. 

The city seemed quieter now; most of its energy was subdued despite it only being 10:00 p.m. Walking around familiar streets, she felt a sense of comfort in solitude but wished she hadn’t forgotten her airpods because there’d be nothing better than a peaceful stroll accompanied by her favourite indie music playlist in the back. 

The pub was only about a ten-minute walk from her flat, so it didn’t take too long, and Y/N felt herself subconsciously speed walking as the cold London air got to her, now regretting her choice of jacket. As she neared closer to her doorstep, she could see a hooded figure placed on it, a backpack in front of them, and a phone in their hand as they scrolled aimlessly. Her eyes felt a bit hazy from the cider, and she approached apprehensively, her mind wandering to the possibilities of it being a crazy ex-boyfriend or a drunken friend hoping to rest their heads for the night. But as she moved closer, her anxiousness eased. It was only her neighbour. Harry. Harry, who she’d given the cold shoulder to for the past few days.

His friendly face looked up at the sound of her approaching footsteps. A slightly flustered expression on his face. 

‘’Hi Harry,’’ she smiled. ‘’You alright?’’

Getting up from his crouched position, he moved aside, letting her stand in front of her own door. ''Oh, you life saver, you've been waiting ages.’’

She looked up at him, a glow on her face, not too sure if it was caused by the pints or his general presence. ‘’What for?’’

‘’I’ve been a right numpty and locked myself out.’’ he laughed. 

‘’Oh shit,’’ she laughed back, buzzing from alcohol. Y/N was a lightweight by definition; the smell of alcohol could probably get her drunk, and at this moment she felt buzzed.

‘’I know, pain the arse,’’ Harry said, pinching in between his eyes. ‘’Can’t even try to get a key cut because everywhere’s shut.’’

‘’You got any friends that’ll let you crash for the night?’’ Y/N asked, feeling genuine concern for the poor boy sitting outside their doors. She hadn’t even asked how long he’d been there—it could have been hours. 

‘’Tried a few but got no response,’’ Harry sighed, "I guess no one wants a rogue sleepover at 10 at night.’’

‘’Good friends you’ve got,’’ she teased, confidence of drink taking over her. 

‘’Oh shush you,’’ he playfully said back. 

A small silence fell over the toy as Y/N fumbled around in her bag to find her keys, the street light giving her enough of a torch to be able to find them. Every time she drank, she’d experience a small panic that she’d managed to lose all of her belongings, but luckily for her, everything seemed intact. 

‘’So what are you going to do?’’ Y/N said as she went to put her key in the lock.

Harry paused for a moment. While the two had shared the occasional message and nice chat over coffee, he felt a bit bold with what he was about to ask. Not being the most social person, he had weighed out the options of whether or not it would be awkward if she'd say yes to his question—he'd more than likely have to sit chatting for a while and then maybe have an uncomfortable sleep on whatever sofa or bed she’d have to offer—but at the same time, he reminded himself that it was only Y/N and whatever awkwardness could have come between them had well and truly been dissolved by their initial meeting. And truthfully, Harry was all for saying outlandish things and asking rogue questions, so if she did say no, he’d just take it on the chin and find somewhere else to go. 

‘’I hate to ask,’’ he paused sheepishly. ‘’I really do. But by any chance, I could come in for a bit, or at least till one of my friends picks up their phone and lets me stay around theirs.’’

‘’You hate to ask?’’ Y/N smirked, cocking her head to one side. ‘’Am I really that insufferable?’’

Harry’s eyes widened at her words. ''N-no, no, not at all. It’s just that I thought, ’’

‘’Stop your blubbering for a moment,’’ she laughed. ‘’It’s fine, really.’’

‘’You sure?’’ he smiled. ‘’Don’t have to say yes, 'coz you feel sorry for me.’’

And yes, Y/N did feel a bit sorry for the blubbering boy sitting in front of their adjacent doors. She couldn’t imagine anything worse than being locked out of her own flat and left out in the cold in London with nowhere else to go—it was a frustrating inconvenience to say the least. Plus, Y/N was always a bit of a generous soul, never really able to say no to people, always biting her tongue when she felt awkward, and with a few pints combined, she was feeling especially generous. 

‘’Honestly, no bother.’’ she replied, unlocking her door. ‘’I’ll probably be awake for the next few hours anyway, so companies are good.’’ An absolute lie on Y/N’s part. Any drink would usually send Y/N into a tired haze, and she couldn’t think of anything better than sticking on her pyjamas and curling up in bed, but it’d have to be put on hold for the night. 

Following her up the stairs and into her living area, Harry let his eyes analyse the room. Fairy lights adorned nearly every wall, blankets crowded on the sofa, a few plants dotted around the room, and an endless amount of cookbooks—while Harry didn’t know too much about Y/N, he could still recognise that her little flat was an exact replica of her as a person. 

‘’Nice place,’’ he said, placing his backpack down on the wooden floor. 

‘’Cheers,’’ she smiled, ‘’similar to yours?’’

‘’Similar size, but mines full of cardboard boxes at the moment,’’ he laughed, ‘’yours has a lot more life to it.’’

‘’Took a good few IKEA trips to get it this perfect, I won’t lie.’’ Since walking in, Y/N had dropped her bag by the door, walking into the kitchen space to find some snacks or atleast a drink to give to her unexpected guest. 

‘’You want a cider?’’ she asked, rummaging through the fridge to find a can of Strawberry Old Mout that she had left over from the last time she had a guest in her flat. She couldn’t help but feel a bit nervous as she looked around the brightly lit fridge - it felt weird having Harry in her flat. Different somehow, more intimate than their casual chats down in the cafe or over text. But especially after her little moment of weakness the other day and the fact that he more than likely had a girlfriend, she pushed those thoughts aside and focused on being the good host she was. 

"You know what- I’ll take one," he replied,thinking nothing sounded better than a cold cider after his shambles of an evening. ‘’Only if you’re drinking too - don’t wanna start getting leathered on my own,’’

‘’As if you’d get leathered off of one cider,’’ Y/N laughed, passing him a can and cracking open her own, ‘’Plus I’m 5 ciders deep already so think it’ll be me getting leathered, not you.’’

Harry shared a laugh with her, holding his hands up in defeat, ‘’Alright, you piss head. You just been necking ciders on London streets then or what?’’

‘’Oh shut up,’’ if she had been closer to him, Y/N probably would of swatted him on the arm for the absolute nonsense that left his mouth but the kitchen counter separated the two, so she kept her arms to her side, ‘’I was just out in the pub.’’

‘’So that’s what the mysterious Y/N gets up to when she’s not running a cafe,’’ he said, raising his eyebrows as if he’d uncovered some maddening truth about her.

‘’Mysterious?’’ she snorted back regrettably but she couldn’t help it and plus after a few drinks, her snorted laugh always seemed to appear.

‘’Well ye-yeah, mysterious.’’ he paused, taking another big gulp of his drink and Y/N wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d managed to finish it by now. ‘’Haven’t heard from you in a few days and then you come swanning in after a few pints, I’d say that’s pretty mysterious.’’

‘’God, you talk some shit,’’ she said, laughing at his use of words. 

‘’S’true though, haven’t heard from you.’’ 

‘’I haven’t heard from you either?’’ 

‘’You liar! I texted you the other night and got no reply,’’ Harry said, clutching at his heart in a playful manner, ‘’really hurt my feelings.’’

‘’You’re such a windup,’’ she grinned, ‘’Didn’t take you as the type to be hung up over no replies,’’

‘’Broke my heart really. I was waiting for you to reply and say you had a cake and a chat waiting for me but got nothing.’

So maybe Y/N hadn’t taken his hints wrongly. 

‘’And then my sister turned up and I couldn’t even come round and pester you for a slice of lemon cake,’’ he continued, ‘’my plan went out the window,’’ His sister! Y/N mentally scolded herself in her head for being so silly that night and thinking the worst.

‘’Your plan?’’ she challenged.

‘’Yeah, my plan to butter you up and then steal every last slice of cake you had going for you.’’ he joked. 

What an idiot, Y/N thought. But a funny idiot, nonetheless. ‘Ah, well, you should have told me your sister was round and I would have been more than happy to share something with her - sure, she would have been better company than you anyways,’’ she joked, in return. She couldn’t tell if it was the ciders making her head feel dizzy or nonchalant playfulness, but she felt giddy and confident. 

‘’No one likes a liar, Y/N.’’ he beamed, ‘’We both know that’s a massive lie.’’

‘’Hmm maybe.’’ 

‘’So, pub, did you say?’’ he questioned, ‘’W-was it a date or?’’

‘’Think I go to the pub on a first date?’’ she said, raising her brow in amusement. 

‘’Nothing wrong with a pint and a bag of crisps for the first date.’’ he defended.

‘’It’s that where you take all your unlucky ladies then?’’

‘’Ha! Unlucky. It’d be the luckiest night of their lives,’’

‘’Oh I bet,’’ Y/N laughed, ‘’But no, just a few drinks with some of my friends. Nothing mad.’’

‘’Very cool.’’ Harry grinned. 

‘’Shut-up,’’ Y/N grinned back in return.

The two fell into a silence, each other not really knowing what to say. Y/N could feel the lull of the alcohol weaning off and she knew she’d be drifting off if she stayed up any longer. She didn’t want to come across rude, enjoying his company but her bed was calling her name and she needed to call it a night knowing she had to be up in  the morning to sort out admin for the cafe. 

‘’I think I might head to bed, I’m feeling knackered.’’ Y/N sighed.

‘’Leaving me all alone, one cider deep?’’ Harry laughed.

‘’Sorry but I don’t think I can keep my eyes open for any longer,’’ A giggle uttering from her lips, ‘’You’re more than welcome to stay on the sofa thought until you get your keys sorted and all.’’

‘’You’re a star, Y/N.’’ Harry smiled in return as he made his way to the couch to make himself comfortable for the night. He couldn’t have been more grateful for her in the moment, thinking back to not so long ago when he was out in the cold, locked outside of his flat. Course, they’d made familiar with each other the past few weeks but he couldn’t get over the kindness of the girl - or pity that she had for him - but either way he was thankful nonetheless. 

‘’There’s a few blankets on the side and some cushions so it shouldn’t be too uncomfortable,’’ Y/N paused, walking over the basket of random throws and cushions she had by the corner of her living room, signalling him to choose his pickings. ‘’Right, I’ll see you in the morning. Night Harry.’’

‘’Night, Y/N. Thanks again.’’ And that was the last thing he saw, her gleaming smile, cheeks red from alcohol as she walked down the hall to the last room that he knew now was her bedroom and headed to bed. 

/

Y/N woke up with a pounding headache the next morning followed by a dry mouth and a queasy stomach. She hadn’t even drank much but in her defense she rarely ever did so any alcoholic beverage would always send her sideways the next day. Blinking against the harsh sunlight streaming through her window, she groaned, regretting the cheap ciders of the previous night. Her memory was a bit hazy, blurred by the fog of alcohol but she didn’t remember one thing. There was a Harry on her sofa. 

Dragging herself out of bed, she quickly sorted herself out, combing through her hair and fixing her pyjamas, not wanting to look an absolute state in front of the boy. She stumbled to the kitchen, head throbbing with every step, desperate for a glass of water. But as she walked into her living space, he was nowhere to be found. Surely she hadn’t been so drunk she had imagined the whole night. 

She could remember everything from the loud music of the pub, the dancing and laughs she shared with her friends. And she most definitely remembered the blue eyed boy that was sat outside her front door, locked out from his home.  

She did a quick check of her phone to see if she had any texts from Harry but the only notifications were a few Instagram tags from her mates and a text from her mum asking what she thought of the banana loaf she had made. Nothing from Harry. 

Walking around the kitchen to grab a glass for her water, she noticed out of the corner of her eye the little notepad she had on her kitchen counter was opened, a few words scribbled on it and a black biro pen next to it. 

On the note read ‘Thank you for letting me stay last night, you’re an angel. I had to leave early this morning to meet the landlord for a spare key but I really do owe you. Let me know when you’re free, I’m thinking of dinner on me? Thank you again, Harry x’ 

With a little smile on her lips as he fingers traced over his messy handwriting, she felt a sigh of relief. Dinner on him, it was and she couldn’t wait.

-

a/n: thank you for reading. sorry for the wait!!! there defo won't be a long wait for part three. this is such a slow burn but promise it gets more cutesy in part three <333

#w2s #wroetoshaw #w2s x reader #harry wroetoshaw #harry lewis #harry w2s #sidemen #w2s fic #w2s imagine #wroetoshaw imagine #wroetoshaw oneshot #hollytoshaw #chris md #arthurtv #sidemen x reader

[diejager]

Saccharine and Monstrosity pt.1

Pairing: Eldritch Horror!König x mermaid!reader

Cw: kidnapping, manipulation, DARK FIC, trap, luring, mention of breeding kink, protective König, mention of partial nudity, hunting, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 4K

I got inspired by @konigsblog ‘s post.

You enjoyed the sun as much as any other betta fish mermaid, laying on the warm rocks and bathing under the bright, yellow sun. You lived in a school of fish that moved near the shores of a tropical island a few generations before, building houses under the coral reef and rocks where newly placed branches would grow and work as a natural shield. The world you lived in - the part of the ocean you called your home - was bright and colourful, the shallow waters clear and gleaming under the warming sun.

You liked all things bright and colourful, either big or small, you decorated your part of the cave with things you found while swimming around your territory. Be it a golden coin shining on the ocean floor, or a shard of coloured glass, you picked it all up and stuck it around your room. Sometimes, you found pretty things near the limits of your home, and other times, you ventured closer to the edge of the darkness when something shiny caught your attention. 

Over the ridge of sand that drew the start of the darkness, that deep and menacing slope down to the deepest part of your ocean, where darker, meaner and cruel beings born of cruelty and madness lived. It was somewhere all mers were warned of, to stay far away from the darkness and never stray from the light that fed and protected you. You thrived in the light, your body absorbing the warmth from the sun that made your scales vibrant and feeding from the fauna and flora that lived beside you: seaweeds and small fishes. 

Your kind grew up with stories of horrifying monsters and cruel creatures that lived in that abyss, lingering near the shallow to catch a pretty, little mer for their hoard. Whatever became of the taken was still unknown, once a mer was taken by One, no one would hear from them from then on. Your parents had warned you about straying too close from the shallow, daring fate when you swam over the ridge to collect those pretty gems you fancied so much.

“Don’t worry,” you’d grin at her, fins flickering behind you. “I’m a fast swimmer, mom!”

You were a fast swimmer, slipping between rocks and corals, hands cradling your little shells while you fled from the dark, twisting over the ridge and vanishing between the corals. That’s what you did most days, picking up people’s trash to make it your treasure, fingers cleaning the sand off the holes and crevasses before sticking them to your walls. You also tinkered with metal creations you found, a silver fork or a rusted-looking instrument. 

Granted, you joined in hunts, catching sardines and herrings, claws digging into its scaled bodies and teeth ripping into its flesh, the only other taste being sea salt, or bathed under the sun, but you preferred scavenging for loot. Although mers hunted alone, most found it easier to do it in groups, swarming shoals of fish and catching in a group of a dozen at a time for your little colony. So when you were fed and rested, you were back out, treading the line between the shallow and the abyss.

You swam slowly, head turning left and right for anything that would catch your attention, for that small glint hidden under a thin veil of sand or a long metallic object sticking out from the ground. You already had a few things in your arms, a few shells, human objects thrown overboard or floated into the sea, and small treasures: white pearls. You picked things up from both sides, mind in a comfortable and pleasant space, prideful of your catch so far that you were oblivious of the eyes following your colourful body. 

His pale eyes wandered over your puffy cheeks and sweet lips, those squinted eyes in mirth as you searched for more. He went down the curve of your shoulders and the swell of your breasts, perky nipples covered by pretty shells, over your soft stomach and that bright, colourful tail of yours that first caught his attention. Every scale glistened under the sun, reflecting the light on the sand while you swam, your fins curving with the twist of your tail. 

You were the prettiest thing he’d ever seen, an angel collecting treasure, just like he did. He saw the batch in your arms, clutched between your breasts when you dove to pick something up on his side. You were as adorable and innocent as you were pretty, your action oblivious of his predatory eyes, dipping into his territory without fear of retribution on his part. He liked that bold and daring attitude of yours, fitting for someone so courageously bright and flashing your bold colours to him. 

If he were to drop something closer to him, would you still swim towards it or ignore it for something closer to the ridge? If he hid until you were close enough, would he be able to wrap his limb around you? To feel your soft skin and coarse scales under his slimy arm. He was glad he decided to hunt today, searching for both prey - mer or fish, he isn’t picky about what he ate - and treasure. Hidden under a couple of tentacles, he dropped a golden coin a few feet away from him, his veil and the darkness helping him hide from your sight. 

His heart soared when he saw your eyes widen, a smile curling at the corners of your lips when you saw his little coin, diving towards him with enthusiasm. You were so close to him, hand stretching to grab the object with small, clawed fingers. When you held it in your hand, appraising it, he felt pride bubble in his chest, rising to his mind as he took this occasion to get his arm around you. You flinched when he wrapped the tip of his tentacle around your tail, squirming around in terror. In a panicked struggle to escape him, you dropped everything you’d collected and fled from him with a cry.

He watched you swim away from him through saddened eyes, hearing the thudding from the things you dropped, even the coin he gifted you. His eyes never left your fleeing body until you jumped over the edge, your tail the last thing he saw in that moment of self-deprivation and sadness. He hoped you’d come back, forgetting the fear of his sudden attention and daring fate once more.

He came the next day and the day after that, but you weren’t there, your precious smile and happy eyes were a memory in his mind, a fleeting moment in his gloomy world. He came back every day, hiding in the darkness, on the line between pitch darkness and light shading. He wished you were there every day, his eyes bleeding with optimism and hope for a single smidgen of bright colours. 

He hadn’t seen you in the following week. His shoulders slumped and caved into himself in sadness every time he came by, his blue eyes dulling bit by bit, that hopeful thinking drowning under realistic thinking and a pessimistic mind. Then he caught a glimpse of colour against the white sand. Before long, he saw arms filled with shiny items, trailing nearer to your side than his, but still chasing for treasures. 

If he wanted to approach you, to touch your soft-looking skin and run his arms over your scaled tail, he’d have to find a way to lure you in. He watched you the first few days, his tentacles curling on itself and burying himself in the sand, the hundreds of suckers searching for buried treasures to leave for you. When you turned your back to him, his unwinding arm left the things he found near the ridge for you to find and take. Little gifts for you, courting gifts he left and gifted you in an attempt to woo you. 

You were skittish and fleeing but took all his gifts with shaky smiles and grateful eyes, you knew he gave them to you. Of course, you did, you were his brave and smart little mermaid, approaching his offerings with apprehension - he felt hurt you feared and got nervous around him, but he understood you, his kind ate yours - and scanned the sand around you for any danger before crossing the line. He felt giddy when you added them to your stack, his mind-blowing with dreams and thoughts of you decorating your little cave with the things he gave you. On the ceiling, against the wall and on the ground or surfaces, you would use the things he gave you for your home. 

It sent him up the walls of his caves with joy and excitement, his limbs curling to rearrange his home to prepare for you, to accommodate your arrival to his big, lonely home.

It took a week or two - or so he thought, his perception of time was and had always been warped in some way - before you became comfortable enough to approach him, to let him curl his slimy tentacle around your tail and up your body. He could finally feel you and it made him ecstatic - he was over the moon every time he got to touch you. Little pokes, fleeting squeezes and feathery bites from his suckers on your flesh, all things he let himself taste before your coupling. A coupling between the prettiest and the cruellest beings in the ocean would unwind the seams that made your worlds, pulling the string that separated the beauty and the beast in this cursed universe.

Granted, you hesitated to cross into the pitch darkness of the abyss, dancing just a few inches from his abode with an armful of trinkets from König. Your slow and steady breath, words you blessed him with when you muttered to him, calling out to know if he was there and your grateful grin were a common, yet welcome sight in his daily swim. While a bit reluctant to join him on the other side, you eventually swam across, your eyes melting into the black before you. You were unseeing as much as you were blind, if not for the guiding palm of the Eldritch creature that you befriended and the shine of treasure you saw around him. 

You wished you could see anything but the gleam of treasure and the black mist of the abyss, your hand wandered over his, searching for his body, to feel the one who’s been gifting you treasures. Your fingers trailed upwards, feeling the tightness of his muscles, the curves and hardness of his arms were sinful. You truly wished you could see him at this moment, but you kept at your advance, clawed fingers moving slowly with unbridled curiosity. When you reached his broad shoulders and well-pronounced chest, it rumbled, a purr coming from König. Its deep sound shook you with need, your tail enthusiastically moving back and forth as you listened to him. 

“Are you happy, Schatz?”

His voice was even better than his soft purrs, in a way that made you want to melt into his arms and never bother moving if he kept talking to you, the sound of the creature that gave you gifts and affection. König’s spine-chilling voice seemed like a mix of many voices, both soft and raspy, and both deep and smooth, but it was something you enjoyed, that you found yourself liking a bit too much. 

“Yes,” you breathed, eyes travelling skyward, towards the source of his voice.

Your breath caught in your throat, choking a gasp at the prettiest blues you’d seen staring down at you. They were majestic, gem-like with a pretty sheen that made them glow like a beacon of light. You wondered why you’d never seen them, seeing how bright his eyes were. They lit up his face, or the veil he wore over his face, showing the pale streak of makeshift tears down the incision he made for his eyes. You shamelessly admired him, unbothered by the lost puppy-like stare you gave him in your glowing beauty. 

You’d crossed a threshold, where a creature of light never dared to cross, stepping into the arms of an Old One and embracing their madness. Although you were oblivious to his intentions, the loud proclamation of his courting rituals and attempts of crying out his love - the Old One’s rituals and cultures were much of a mystery to those who didn’t study them, much of a taboo for anyone outside of delusion and greed - he hadn’t refrained from his deliberate show that would be nearly shameful and embarrassing to others of his kind. 

Some wouldn’t bother with such frivolous acts: confessions from the deepest part of their dark soul, proclamation of love and undying adoration, or having to scavenge for gifts - offerings - to the subject of their attention. His kind took and took, reaching for that small glimmer of hope and beauty and corrupted it, bending it to their liking and building something from the ashes. It wouldn’t - would never - be the same as they were before, but that was how the Old Ones liked it: control, corruption, ruin, madness and power.

König wouldn’t do that, he wanted to cherish you, add to what you were and watch it bloom like those bioluminescent creatures in the abyss; even against his creator’s wishes. He’ll put you on the highest pedestal he has, eternally imprinting the image of you as his most precious treasure into his mind. You’ll be a thing of miracles, a thing of blessings, a thing of new beginnings. He wanted all and everything with you, but he’d have to take it slow, to coax you into this redundant pattern that ensured your trust and comfort and have you follow him of your own volition. 

He doesn’t mind waiting, he’s had hundreds of years of sitting and waiting, patience was a virtue he grew to learn, to hold in his giant palm and clutch like a gift from the ever-growing, chaotic universe. He can wait and plan, so he will, König will lay down his plan and wait until he can bring it to reality.

Wait he did, for you to grow comfortable enough to follow him deeper and let him pull you in from your side. It took you a month of back and forth, squirming around your infatuation with König and exchanging trinkets, words and fleeting kisses with him. He adored your little giggles when he traced your sides with a bolt tentacle, curling under your plush tits and the tip sliding under your strap. He loved the pretty shells you gave him, cleaned from sand and any barnacles, it showed him how much time you spent on it for him. His heart bloomed and swelled to impossible heights when you pecked his lips, giving him shy and gentle kisses that he grew addicted to. 

You were so sweet and so soft, your lips the taste of heaven for a creature of madness. Your hands were gentle like a cool balm over a burn, soothing his wild thoughts. Your little gifts for him - reciprocating his affection - were currently the most important things in his cave, a sign of your love and devotion. It made him wonder what would you let him do once you gave yourself to him. Would you succumb to the everlasting pleasures he could give you, or would you demand to help him take care of his own in a mutual haze? He couldn’t help himself, letting his chaotic mind conjure the most absurd and erotic dreams, his body vibrating with excitement; and now, at the peak of your trust in him, he watched his plan - a well-placed trap - come to fruition. 

“Come, Schatz,” he beckoned you forward, his burly arm stretching to coax you to follow him, holding out his open palm to you. “I have something I want to show you. Pretty things.”

Without a thought, to question his intentions or to ask why he couldn’t have bought them for you like he usually did, you took his hand and let his fingers curl over yours, intertwining your smaller digits to his as he pulled you to his chest. His embrace was as safe and pleasant as the last one - yesterday - and caused a flurry of emotions to erupt in your chest, he was warm in the cool darkness, loving in all the ways you could think. You could close your eyes and imagine a smile rippling across his face with joyfully squinted eyes peering down at you. 

Held against his chest, his other arm wrapped around your waist with a firm squeeze of his hand where your skin turned to scales. He whispered sweet promises, words of encouragement to see the way to his home and excited explanations of what awaited you. Pretty things, he said, you knew what he meant - at least you think you did - you shared much in common, and pretty things were something you both agreed on: shiny metals, interesting trinkets, shimmering shells or finely-minted coins. All things humans valued before throwing away; one man’s trash is another man’s treasure. 

How unfortunate that you couldn’t see in the dark, yet how fortunate you wouldn’t know the way back, it was something he relied on heavily to keep you, if you didn’t know how to navigate in this utter blindness, there were no risks of you trying to escape his caring hand. You were smart, you wouldn’t simply venture off without knowing where to go and how to see, especially with how vast his territory was and how dangerous it was. He shared his home with other simple-minded animals, sharks, fishes, eels and any other abyssal creature that lived and depended on the dark to live. 

Your innocent curiosity about the things he deemed pretty enough to hoard made his heartbeat, that addicting feeling he got from touching you, kissing you and speaking to you. Even if the deeper he went, the colder it became, you never once complained, your wide eyes and grinning face were the only thing you gave him. He was truly relieved to know that you were patient and understanding of his home, not one hiss or pout while you shook and clung to him, depending on him for warmth. He liked that, to see you rely on him so much. 

“We’re here, mein Liebling,” he hushed, cradling your face as he dove down, through the entrance of his cave. He shielded your fragile body with his many arms, protecting you from the rush of water current flowing against him. He chose this one to build his nest, using the strong current as a natural barrier against weaker creatures. 

When the waters calmed to a still, he loosened his hold on you, unravelling his arms to let you explore the many passages and alcoves in his home. To accommodate you, he strung up bioluminescent flora, using them as light to find your way around, with silken algae over a few rocks to mimic the beds mers slept in and a few other things that he thought you’d need: a mirror, a few floating plants to add to its mystical beauty and clusters of soft materials in nearly every room. 

He let you wander, your tail flapping back and forth to lead you down the long hall and explore the many rooms. He used a room to sleep, one as a pantry and storage, and another one to hold his hoard, but he had a lot of empty and unused space, more than enough for you and your children to thrive. He wanted to let you roam at your own pace, but he had something to show you, something he was proud of making. 

He pulled you from your little cloud of joy, wrapping an arm around you, his sticky suckers latching onto you as he coaxed you his way. Only then had you taken the time to admire König under blue light, cheeks warm with a burning flush and doe-like eyes staring at the naked expense of his hard abdomen, stomach sculpted to perfection that had Adonis shying away. His arms were big and round, muscles straining the scarred skin with delicious appeal. 

Downwards, following the sharp dip of his navel, were dozens of dark tentacles lined with round, pulsing suckers. Like an octopus, they were covered in a slimy sheen, every limb flexible and able to move independently. The lower ones were thick and soft, acting as a cover for whatever he hid beneath them, while some were thinner, whose source came from under his veil. Those, however, were a mix of normal and horrific tentacles, some had eyes replacing the usual suckers, tinted in the same colour as his irises, that glowing, pale blue. 

It made your body heat up, fingers tingling with nerves - or was it? When faced with something you found appealing, it’d be natural to feel flustered, no? König thought so, that’s how he spent the first days reacting to you, heating up to a bothersome flush to everything you did. He watched your awed stare, that daydreaming haze in your eyes when you looked him over, his whole body clear under the gentle light in his cave. 

“This way.”

Without making your gaze leave his figure, he drew you in, heading towards his biggest room where he caught and strung everything to fit his pleasure and mood. It was somewhere deeper into the system with walls strong and sturdy, and the round ceiling higher than the other rooms. On one side was a pile of golden objects of all shades, light yellow to a darkish gold, nearly bronze; on the other was a mix of pretty silver things and metallic black objects, rusted by age and the salty ocean; and on another, the smallest of them all, comprised of a few dozens of colourful shells and corals frozen in time that you’d given him. 

He saw your chest expand, your smile growing brighter and brighter at the pile of gifts you gave him, your bubbly laugh as you swam towards it, twirling around it proudly. You looked around the room, admiring his large collection and how it seemed to spill down every pile in an attempt to reach the other one, forming a protective ring around your presents, but always coming back to the bright pink, blue and yellow shells. You were happy and appreciative of the time he spent working and arranging his hoard. If he could, he’d preen and purr to you, to show just how much your proud smile meant to him, watching you appraise his work was satisfying. 

He already felt like things were falling into place perfectly, he could see the life he had envisioned with you coming to life, the little intricacies that popped into his mind seeming too appealing. His dreams were slowly becoming a reality, the things that he could only imagine were now tangible to his hands, and the future he salivated at was so, so close that he could sink his teeth into its flesh. 

He knew it. He knew it when he watched you swim to him with that big, adorable smile on your face, that it was in his hands. He could see it now, how his lonely cave would be filled with life and laughter, children with a mix of your beauty and his madness chasing one another between the many openings and your round, swollen stomach welcoming another of your children to the world. That was all he could think of while he cradled you in his arms, his tentacles latching to your tail and back. 

“You’re happy, ja?”

Next

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @candlewitch-cryptic @im-making-an-effort @0alk0msan 

#yandere x reader #x reader #cod mw2 #yandere #ghost mw2 #cod mw2 x reader #konig x you #konig x reader #cod konig #konig #konig mw2 #konig cod #könig x reader #könig #könig cod #könig mw2 #könig x you #könig x fem reader #x fem!reader #female!reader #fem!reader #könig call of duty #cthulhu könig #monster cod au #monster fucker #eldrich horror konig #eldritch konig #mermaid #mermaid reader #eldrich horror

[stars-in-a-jam-jar]

I don't think Buddy asks Helio any questions.

Kristen asked 'Why do bad things happen to good people?' because she believed in all the good things she was taught, but noticed the strange disconnect between the world as it was and the world as it was taught to her. So she thought, surely, if I can't come up with the answer, Helio will have it. And she hates him for dodging her question.

Buddy is far more deluded than Kristen ever was. And he is far, far angrier inside as a result, even if he deliberately conceals this fact from himself to protect himself from the inevitable mental breakdown this would cause. Buddy is not as altruistic and giving and caring as Kristen is. He wouldn't question why he was betrayed or dig into a question like 'Why do bad things happen to good people?' Those aren't the answers he needs, because of course he'd be betrayed by someone outside the church, that makes perfect sense. Of course bad things happen to good people, we simply live in a fallen world.

Or, well. He used to live in a fallen world. Now he's dead here. In Helio's divine domain.

I think Buddy, as he wanders through fields of corn to the big farmhouse where Helio is chilling out, privately thinks about the fact that Kristen Applebees' horrified expression was the last thing he ever saw before a sharp pain in his throat. I think Buddy assumes Helio knows he's thinking this and apologizes for bringing thoughts like that into paradise. I think he thanks Helio for recognizing his devotion and bringing him here once he died and dutifully deceives himself about his own rising emotions at contending with the fact that he's dead now.

After all, he was raised to die. He was raised to want to die.

To want to be here with his god whenever it was he called Buddy to him. So he doesn't feel upset, no, of course not. He's just a little surprised at how sudden it was. (How completely random. How unceremonious and unfair.) He's a little bit worried how his grandparents would react to the news is all. (He cracks a joke that maybe he'll see them here shortly after they do get the news. He doesn't laugh at it.) He had his own plans for how he'd spread the good word in life, but of course, Helio had other plans. (Nothing Buddy ever wanted really mattered. He knew that, he knew the will of Helio was the real thing that mattered, and everything else was just a small list of preapproved extracurriculars in the syllabus of his life.)

He can't be upset about this.

He shouldn't be upset about this.

This is his reward.

This place and these people and this god are his reward for a life of service and devotion and walking in the light.

It's not his place to be upset about his own reward. Kristen got upset when she went to heaven, when she met Helio, and look where that got her.

Look... look where that got her.

He thinks he hates her. For looking at him like that. All the ways she looked at him. Like he was something pitiful and contemptible. Someone she needed to threaten away from her little brother. Someone she has to double and triple check if he's going to revive her when he's under magical oath to do just that or lose his connection to a divinity she threw away after being chosen.

And then. In that last moment, she looked at him and he saw grief and horror and caring. Like his death was awful and unfair and tragic.

And he thinks maybe he hates her for that. For challenging him every conversation they had and looking at him like she knew something he didn't. Like she was above him. Like killing your own god twice in life is a preferable fate to living for the promise of eternal sunlight and cornbread in death. A promise which was kept to him.

Kristen was promised to Helio, too.

And he can't unsee her face. He can't move along and focus on what truly matters (Helio, the church, spreading the word, doling out divine punishment when needed) because he's reached the end. There is nothing left. Only this bright sunny cornfield and a god who... is nice. And who cares about him, personally. He got Buddy's name wrong the first and only time they held audience.

He thinks he hates Kristen, and he hates that that hatred isn't immediately squashed out of his soul just by being here. In paradise. Where he belongs. Where every follower of Helio belongs. Where he never has to have anyone look at him the way Kristen did ever again.

I don't think Buddy Dawn asks Helio any questions. Because how do you ask the god you devoted every waking minute of your life to, 'Why do I hate it here? Why does this feel like hell?'

(There's a part 2 now that the next ep is out >:3)

#fantasy high junior year spoilers #fantasy high #fantasy high junior year #fhjy #d20 fhjy #dimension 20 #buddy dawn #kristen applebees #kristin applebees #cw death #religious trauma #wow I really said 'he was raised to want to die' without even flinching didn't I?

[steddielations]

Steve acts on instinct.

There’s this guy in all black walking in front of him, he’s too busy looking down at his phone to notice, but Steve doesn’t trust that lamppost. He’s been going for daily runs, he likes to keep it simple during the off-season, and that post has been getting more rickety every day. Now it’s swaying dangerously in the wind and he knows it’s about to tumble.

There’s no time to call out to the guy, so Steve just plows forward and tackles him out of the way.

They fall in a messy heap and Steve unfortunately lands heavily on top.

“Holy shit! What the— ugh!” The guy heaves in pain and Steve hurries to scramble off of him.

“Sorry, that post was about to fall on you, man. You alright?”

Pieces of grass stick to the guy’s long hair as he takes stock of Steve and what happened. With a labored breath, he surprisingly jokes, “Guess I’m lucky the best football tackler alive happened to be right behind me.”

It’s sarcastic as shit but Steve smiles with a tug of amusement as he offers his hand. “Baseball, actually.”

“You’re in the wrong league, man,” he lets Steve pull him to his feet and groans on the way up. “Well, nice to meet you, Baseball, you pack a hell of a first impression. I’m Eddie.”

Steve would appreciate his ability to joke so soon after taking a hit, but people are starting to gather around. There’s already phones pointed at them that probably caught the whole thing on camera. Steve’s used to public attention by now, knows the press is going to have a field day with this and he hates causing a scene, but he wants to make sure Eddie is okay.

“Just Steve is good. You wanna…? This way,” he gestures toward the sidewalk and thankfully, Eddie seems just as eager to get out of there too, shuffling next to Steve as they round the corner.

He’s wearing so much metal jewelry, it’s like a costume, the jingle jangle of his every step accentuating how shaken up he seems. They get far enough behind a building and Steve stops to have a real look at him and… well he’s interesting to look at.

It’s like he hopped off the album cover of an 80s rock band, or one of Steve’s Bon Jovi posters that he hid under his bed in high school. Way too much leather and way too much hair for the California sun, all disheveled with grass and dirt.

“You sure you’re okay? Here, you got a little…” Steve’s hand hovers until Eddie nods that it’s okay from him to pluck the grass from his hair and lightly brush the dust from his shoulders. Eddie watches him the whole time, his eyes big and dark, an intensity in them that Steve can’t quite read but he can feel. “Didn’t hit your head or anything, did you?”

Steve lowers his hands, stepping back a little when he realizes how close they are. Eddie’s eyes follow him, a slight quirk to his lips that makes Steve feel the heat of the sun a little warmer on his face.

“I’m touched by your concern, sweetheart, but my brain has been through worse damage than a little bump.”

Steve frowns at the ladder, but the first bit definitely makes him feel the heat. He’s admittedly a bit out of practice but he can still recognize a come on. One that he definitely invited with all the touching and indulgent looks.

Then Eddie starts profusely thanking him for the whole ordeal, asking to treat him somewhere nearby for lunch. It’s not that Steve doesn’t want to, he’s very interested actually, and thankful that out of all the jewelry Eddie’s sporting, there’s no wedding ring. That’s why he’s reluctant because he’s all sweaty at the moment. Not to mention, he didn’t finish his run yet.

“Surely saving my life was enough cardio,” Eddie jokes lightly and Steve snorts.

“I saved you from a minor concussion, maybe,” and okay he’s gotta accept now.

The place is small and unassuming, burgers and sodas type joint. Steve’s likely to be recognized there, which he doesn’t mind meeting fans in public just preferably not now, it might be jarring for Eddie.

He heads for the booth tucked in the back corner, the most private looking spot that Steve had his eyes on too. They get a round of sodas from the waitress and right away, Eddie starts thanking him again.

“I noticed that lamppost wobbling days ago,” Steve sparks a conversation instead of accepting any more thanks, “I was planning to let it fall on me so I could sue the shit out of the city.”

He’s pleasantly startled by the big cackle that gets out of Eddie, “Any chance to stick it to the man. I admire that.”

“‘Course I would’ve really stuck it to ‘em and donated it back to the community,” Steve adds.

“Giving the people’s money back to the people, imagine Big Brother’s horror. Noble guy.”

Eddie seems to bubble with contagious delight that doesn’t match his whole leather and chains thing at all, but it fits into the somewhat magic of him. It's a wonder to Steve.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” Eddie ventures, a glint of recognition in his eyes that Steve’s seen a thousand times. He doesn’t ping Eddie as much of a sports guy and he’s not vain enough to assume everyone knows who he is. Eddie’s probably seen him while flipping the channel past ESPN or something. Or maybe an ad for that Netflix thing he did documenting last year’s season.

“I think I’d definitely remember you.”

Steve didn’t mean it as a come-on, just that Eddie’s appearance really isn’t forgettable, but he can tell by the wicked little grin Eddie sports that it was taken as one. Steve likes that even better.

“Have you ever modeled, or anything? You’ve got the looks for it.”

Biting back a smile of his own, Steve shakes his head. “I bet you say that to everyone who saves your life.”

“None of them were half as good looking." That sounds concerning but Steve’s distracted by Eddie swirling his straw in his drink, regarding him with a long look. “Really though, I just feel like I’ve seen you before.”

Steve’s done a few covers of Sports Illustrated, but he doubts Eddie has ever picked up a copy of that, so he shrugs. “Must’ve been in your dreams.”

Eddie laughs softer this time. “You trying to sweep me off my feet or something?”

“Already did.” Steve leans back, enjoying the way Eddie’s eyes follow him.

Conversation sparks and it never really dies out. Eddie just grabs topics out of thin air, talking about the city and what they like to do and movies and his amazement that Steve knows all about D&D because he’s a nerd magnet. Eddie’s personality spills through everything he says like it can’t be contained. He’s talkative in a good way, not to a point where Steve can’t get a word in. He listens intently, has a way of putting all his attention onto Steve like he’s the most interesting person he’s ever spoken to.

It’s surprisingly easy to relax. Not because Eddie has a super calming presence or anything, his energy is just all-encompassing, it’s hard for Steve not to get sucked in and hang on to every word he says. It’s one of the rare times in public that he’s not hyper-aware of everyone around him and too paranoid of having a photo snapped and taken out of context to even enjoy himself.

That happens a lot, being one of the only professional athletes who’s open about his sexuality. The media is extremely invasive with his private life. If he’s seen with any guy friend, there’s a whole press storm about Steve Harrington’s “secret beau” within the hour. It’s ridiculous and he tries so hard to keep his lovelife under wraps that maybe he’s been neglecting it entirely, at least that’s what Robin says.

Of course, that’s when his phone lights up with a message from her. His heart sinks a little when he sees the title of the article she sent to him. He quickly shoots her a text and locks his phone without reading it.

“Everything alright?” Eddie notices the shift in Steve’s mood right away.

“Yeah just,” he sighs, bracing for the inevitable part when Eddie realizes Steve isn’t worth the hassle of all this, “Someone filmed us earlier and now it’s all over the press. I’m really sorry, I totally get it if—”

“Nah, don’t worry about it, it’s fine. I figured that would happen,” Eddie brushes it off, but Steve shakes his head.

“I don’t think you understand, it’s—”

“Wanna bet?” Eddie smirks for some reason, “I’m fine with it, I promise.”

He tosses a chip into his mouth and picks right back up with the story he was telling.

Steve is stunned for a moment, wary that maybe Eddie doesn’t fully grasp how deep this goes. But he stays there with Steve, seemingly thrilled to keep talking with him even when a family comes in and keeps staring their way, obviously building up the courage to come over and ask for a picture. Eddie’s acting like Steve’s the only person in the room and that’s enough to assure Steve that he’s really fine with it.

He’s so locked into Eddie, he barely registers when the older son from the family’s table finally wanders over and asks for a picture.

Steve is in the middle of wiping his face with a napkin, about to greet him when suddenly, Eddie pops up and asks Steve to excuse him for a minute.

“C’mon little man, let’s do it,” he says and much to Steve’s confusion, the teen excitedly goes with Eddie to his family’s table.

Steve watches, utterly baffled, as they start snapping photos and expressing what big fans they are and Eddie takes it with such bravado, laughing and chatting like he’s with a group of friends.

What the— Steve grabs his phone, opening the article Robin sent him at lightning speed.

At first, he wonders how the press was able to find out Eddie’s full name so quickly, then he sees the words "troubled rockstar" and "recovering star" so many times, it becomes abundantly clear.

Oh.

He’s not so worried about the troubled part, everyone has their shit and he doesn’t read into any of it. Those are Eddie’s stories to tell Steve if he chooses, not some tabloid. But the rockstar part connects a lot of dots that have come up in the last couple of hours since meeting Eddie and—

Yeah, just. Oh.

Part 2

#what if they’re both secretly famous and clueless about each other #this is called ‘Upstaged’ #part two soon #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie fic #stranger things #steddie ficlet #rockstar eddie munson #baseball player steve harrington #famous steve harrington #meet cute #saved your life trope #famous eddie munson #rueswriting

[joelsgreys]

fall into temptation | one

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Preacher’s Daughter! Reader

series masterlist l next chapter

summary: Of all the women to catch Joel Miller’s attention—it just had to be one of the goddamned preacher’s daughters.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. JACKSON ERA. SLIGHT PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION OF READER, mentions of her hair which she can put up into braids as well as her style of clothing. despite the nickname Joel gives her, it does not speak to her body type or size. AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 56, i know, i know but this is self indulgent because my birthday is next month idk just let me have this one) canon language, canon violence, several mentions of religion, terms pastor and preacher are used interchangeably here and there, mentions of the bible and religious symbols (cross), innocent/virgin reader, very brief scene of attempted sexual assault, no explicit smut (yet). asshole Joel, protective Joel, hints of softish dom Joel (if you squint). reader has two sisters, the only physical description for them is their hair, which they can also braid as well as their style of clothing.

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, NO MENTION OF RACE OR BODY TYPE.

word count: 8.4k

Jackson, Wyoming

Fall 2024

Joel had seen him around the community before. 

He’s an older man in his late sixties or possibly his early seventies with thinning, snow white hair and silver, wire rimmed glasses that always seemed to be perched on the tip of his pointed nose. He was a good, kind man from what Joel could gather—offering up warm smiles and friendly waves to anyone who happened to cross his path, stopping to greet and say hello to familiar faces. The hem of his starched white shirt is tucked into pressed black slacks and even from where he stood across the road near the horse stables, Joel noticed the book clutched in his right hand, old and bound in supple, worn black leather with the words Holy Bible etched into the cover in flaked gold lettering.

Jacob, he thinks his name is. Or was it Josiah?

Something biblical—a name fit for a man who was so fucking clearly devoted to the big man upstairs.

Joel knew his own name was a biblical one, but he was the furthest thing from a man of God. After all that he’d done in the past twenty years, there was only one place he was going and that place wasn’t exactly known for its pearly gates or sweet cherub angels playing harps.

Joseph? Was that it? 

He couldn’t be certain.

Not that Joel really even cared to know his name. 

It’d been a couple months since Joel arrived back in Jackson with Ellie after Salt Lake City and the truth of the matter was that he preferred to keep to himself whenever it was possible. Joel had zero interest in getting to know the people of this settlement, not unless he had to for the sake of patrol duties—and that’s only if he hadn’t been able to weasel his way out of getting assigned with a partner who wasn’t Tommy or Maria, the only two people in the whole fucking community Joel could stand being around. Minus his kid of course, but even he and Ellie could really only take each other in small doses lately. Perhaps it was their tense, strained relationship that was to blame for the fact that Joel Miller walked around this place with a standoffish attitude and a permanent scowl plastered on his face. 

Most people were smart enough to scamper off in the opposite direction when they saw him coming. He was never offended by it. It’s what he wanted. He wasn’t here to make friends.

In fact, the closest thing he had come to a friend outside of his brother’s wife was Esther, the woman Maria and Tommy had tried setting him up with when he first got back to Jackson. He wouldn’t go as far as calling her a friend, either. That’s a little too generous. Friend? No, more like a good fuck when he couldn’t drown his bitterness with Seth’s barrel aged bourbon and he was in need of a different kind of distraction.

But there was a reason this particular man piqued his curiosity. Actually, there were three reasons he managed to garner Joel’s attention and all three of those reasons were trailing behind him in an orderly, single file line, each one more fucking gorgeous than the last. He was positive he’d never seen them around before—because how could he possibly forget the faces of the most beautiful women in this town?

They’ve gotta be sisters, Joel thought to himself, his hand resting on the neck of the horse that he’d ridden out to patrol that morning, a dark, chestnut mare named Willow. Although he was supposed to be walking her inside the stables and back into her stall, he found himself far too distracted. While the three women weren’t identical to one another, the similarity in their traits such as hair color and their skin tone confirmed his suspicions that they were related. They all styled their hair in neat halo braids and wore slightly different color variations of the same getup—pressed, long sleeved blouses tucked into knee length floral printed skirts and worn, leather oxford shoes.

Clutching the brown leather strap of his rifle in his opposite hand, Joel leaned himself against Willow and squinted against the bright afternoon sunlight in an effort to get a better look at them. 

The first two were slightly on the older side. If Joel had to take a shot at their age, he would guess the women were in their thirties—a man of fifty six, he still had about two decades on them, easy. Joel let his gaze shift, his dark brown eyes flickering to the last one. His breath audibly hitched in his throat and part of him wondered just how fucking dumb he had to be to be drawn to the youngest one of the three. It couldn’t be fucking possible—you couldn’t be that much older than your mid twenties, if that. 

Joel’s grip on the strap of his rifle tightened. 

All three of you were beautiful beyond words—why the fuck did it have to be you who held over his interest?

“Take a picture,” Maria remarked with a tiny laugh. She dismounted her horse and peered at Joel over the black stallion’s back. “It’ll last longer.”

She’d led that morning’s patrol, her first time back on duty since she had given birth to her son in the spring. Joel had returned to Jackson right on time to meet his one month old nephew, Noah. 

He cleared his throat and shrugged. “Just tryin’ to figure out what their deal is, that’s all.” He paused, then remarked, “Didn’t know polygamy was a thing around here.”

His comment must have struck a nerve in his dear sister in law—fiercely protective of the people who were under her leadership, Maria hadn’t found the sister wives implication the slightest bit amusing. 

“Watch it, Joel,” she admonished, shooting him a warning glare. “He’s the town’s pastor and those girls happen to be his daughters. So let’s keep our wise ass cracks to ourselves, shall we?”

His daughters? He almost couldn’t believe it. Surely the girls must have taken after their mother because they sure as hell didn’t get their good looks from their old man. They hardly looked anything like him.

“Pastor,” Joel repeated with a small hum. He then remembered her pointing out an old church house back during the winter when she’d given him and Ellie the grand tour of the community. “So he ain’t got a real job like the rest of us?”

Maria rolled her eyes. “His job is a real job, Joel. It might be hard for you to believe, but there are still a lot of people of faith around here,” she explained to him. “He provides them with comfort and with hope—”

He snorted sharply through his nose. “Hope?”

“Yes, hope,” she snapped at him. 

“Hope for what, Maria? That things will go back to fuckin’ normal? That the end of the world is temporary?”

Maria crossed her arms over her chest, jutting her chin. “Some people never lose hope, Joel. There’s a lot of people who need this man and he serves a much bigger purpose than what you’re giving him credit for.”

“And what about the girls? They have it easy too? Do they just stand there lookin’ pretty on Sundays while their old man reads verses out loud from the most useless fuckin’ book known to man?”

“If you must know, they work in the schoolhouse,” she answered, tossing him another glare. “They’re teachers. The oldest one, she teaches Ellie’s class. The middle one, she teaches the primary school aged children and the youngest? She takes care of all of our little ones. She prepares our preschool kids for her sister’s class by teaching them numbers and basic literacy. Shows them how to start counting, reading and writing, things like that. She also helps run the commune’s daycare.”

“At least they have real jobs,” Joel mumbled under his breath. 

“What was that?”

He feigned innocence. “Nothin’. Nothin’ at all.”

“That’s exactly what I thought.” Maria pointed her finger at him. “Come on, let’s get these guys back into their stalls. It was a long ride this morning, I’m sure they could use some rest.” Taking her stallion by the reins, she started leading him over toward Logan, one of the stable hands who helped take in the horses coming back from patrol. 

Joel took Willow’s reins in his hands—but before he could even think of moving another muscle, he glanced up and saw the preacher leading his three daughters past the stables and right past Joel. His self control faltered. All that he could do was stare at you, his eyes fixed on you so blatantly that one of your sisters had taken notice. Grinning, she turned back towards you and lifted a hand to her mouth. She used her palm to shield her lips from Joel’s view and whispered something to you over her shoulder.

Shit. 

He’d been caught gawking.

He thought about making a beeline for the stables but it was too late. 

Perplexed by whatever it was that your older sister had just said to you, you gave her an odd look, but then followed the subtle nod of her head. 

Glimpsing over in his direction, your lips parted in complete surprise and you came to an abrupt halt in the middle of the dirt road when you found your gaze meeting that of the much older, rugged man standing there with a gun slung over his shoulder.

Unsure of what else to do, Joel simply offered you a polite nod of his head. The gesture was innocent enough but it startled you. He could tell by the way you let out a small gasp and turned away from him, your eyes falling to the ground as you scurried to catch up to your father and sisters like a spooked little mouse. 

Joel couldn’t help but shake his head and laugh.

“Is the preacher aware that his precious little daughters pay frequent visits to The Tipsy Bison at such late and ungodly hours?” Joel quipped. He gestured to a booth nestled over in a corner of the dimly lit bar with a subtle jerk of his chin. “S’gotta be the third or fourth time I’ve seen them here in the last couple of weeks.”

Tommy’s eyes followed his brother’s gesture. “Oh man, not again,” he said with an exasperated sigh. He shook his head. “Those girls, they ain’t got no fuckin’ business hangin’ around this place and much less at this fuckin’ hour. But the middle one, she’s a whole lot of trouble.” He paused, just long enough to nod at one of the three sisters, the one who was wearing her hair loose around her shoulders, twirling a lock of it around her finger as she made flirtatious fuck me eyes at the group of drunk patrolmen sitting a few tables away. “She’s somethin’ of a rebel, that one. Likes to drink a lot, get herself involved with things that she ain’t really supposed to be messin’ with. She’s the one who convinces the other two into sneakin’ out and comin’ to the bar when their old man goes to sleep.”

Joel chuckled in disbelief. “You fuckin’ serious?”

“As a heart attack. And then there’s the older one. I know she likes to drink too, but she’s a lot calmer than the other one. Ain’t gotta worry about her all too much, y’know? She tries to be the chaperone—it don’t always work out that way, though. Her halo ain’t exactly perfect either.”

“What ‘bout the youngest one?” Joel asked in the most nonchalant tone he could possibly muster. “Where does she fall on the scale between angel and devil?”

You’re carefully perched on the edge of the booth, your pretty features twisting in disgust with every sip of the rich, amber colored liquid in your glass. Unable to stomach the burning alcohol, you set it off to the side, abandoning it in favor of a glass of water instead.

“Her?” Tommy grinned, leaning back into his chair as stated, “Oh, she’s an absolute angel. She’s just ‘bout the sweetest fuckin’ thing you’ll ever see in your whole damn life, big brother. She’s gotta be the kinda girl who all the little birds and woodland critters sing to when there ain’t no one around,” he laughed. “She’s real good. Too good. Wouldn’t surprise me if the lord sent her down from heaven himself.”

Joel tossed him a skeptical look across the table.

“She really as innocent as she seems?” 

“I don’t think she even knows what it’s like to hold another man’s hand,” his younger brother laughed again and reached for his beer, taking a generous swig. 

Joel hummed softly and lifted his glass of whiskey to his lips. The mere thought of you being so pure and so innocent—untouched by anyone else—caused something to stir deep in his lower belly. 

“She’s the old man’s pride and joy,” Tommy continued, breaking into his train of thought. “Kind. Polite. Behaves. Doesn’t get herself into any kinda trouble—I mean look at her, she can’t even choke down a glass of whiskey. She’s just too good of a girl.”

Joel proceeded cautiously with his next question. “Any of them taken?” 

Surprised, Tommy raised his eyebrows. “Joel, don’t fuckin’ tell me—”

“No, I ain’t interested,” he interjected, rolling his eyes. “Just a curious motherfucker, that’s all.”

He didn’t seem too convinced by Joel’s answer. “They’re all single from what I know. To be honest, there ain’t a whole lot of men around here their old man would approve of,” he remarked. “Don’t get me wrong, he’s a nice man and all, but when it comes to his daughters, he’s real strict. Not that controllin’ has done him much good, though.” He lowered his voice as a fellow patrolman walked past their table. “The middle one’s fucked her way through this entire town and then back again. She even made a pass at me while Maria was pregnant with Noah, if you can fuckin’ believe that.”

Amused, Joel snorted into his drink. Ballsy. “How goddamn drunk was she?”

Tommy ran a hand through his jet black curls. “Wasted. Oldest one ain’t exactly the Virgin Mary, either.”

“And the old man doesn’t know?��

“Nope. Ain’t nobody gonna snitch on grown women in their thirties.” Noticing the amused expression on Joel’s face, he adds, “By the way, just in case you haven’t figured it out, this stays between us, Joel.”

He smirked. “Which part?”

“All of it. And take it from me, those girls? S’best you keep your distance from them,” he warned as he stood up from the table. He picked up the blue denim jacket draped over his chair, shrugging into it. “Don’t go gettin’ any dumbass ideas, alright?”

“Look, if the wild one makes a pass at me, I ain’t gonna turn her down. S’not like I’ve got a pregnant wife at home.”

“Joel, I fuckin’ swear. If you even think ‘bout it—”

He held up his hands to stop him. “Relax. Was just a joke.”

“Right. M’sure it was.” Tommy snorted. “Listen, I gotta get back home. Don’t wanna leave Maria on her own with the baby for too long.”

“How’s she been holdin’ up?”

“She’s been so tired. Jugglin’ motherhood, runnin’ this place, and bein’ back on patrol duty. I keep on tryin’ to tell her to slow it down, but she just won’t listen to me.” He let out a small sigh and waved a dismissive hand. “But anyway. If you’re all good to head out, I can walk you back to your place since it’s on the way to mine?”

Joel looked down at his glass, still half full. “I think I’m gonna hang back for a while longer. I’m on the roster for evenin’ patrol tomorrow, s’not like I’ve gotta be up at the ass crack of dawn.”

“Suit yourself.” Clapping him on the back, Tommy bid him goodnight and started towards the door. 

As soon as he was gone, Joel looked over towards your booth. He watched as you whispered into the ear of your eldest sister who nodded her head in understanding. You stood up and said something else to her, then spun around on your heel, long skirt flowing along with the movement. Head down, you hastily made your way across the bar, being careful so as not to bump into anyone along the way.

You were leaving. Alone. 

In the middle of the fucking night? While drunk morons poured in and out of the bar?

She’ll be just fine, he tried to convince himself. 

Joel frowned to himself, gripping his drink tightly in his hand as he scanned the room.

Sitting at a nearby table was Kent, some idiot he’d been stuck with a time or two for patrol. He clocks the smirk that crossed the younger man’s face, his eyes following you all the way to the door. Leaning forward over the table, he whispered something to his buddies, his smirk widening. His comrades, all who looked and behaved more like teenagers rather than grown men, lifted their beers to him, nodding in encouragement. Drunk off his ass, Kent drained the rest of his own beer, slamming the glass bottle down onto the table before clumsily stumbling to his feet. 

Joel momentarily froze as soon as he realized what was happening. 

Kent was going after you. 

Joel’s lips pressed together into a tight, thin line.

Setting his drink down, he stood up from his table and slipped on his jacket before following suit.

Joel stepped out of the bar and into the night, the chilly evening air nipping at his face. He took a look around. 

You were nowhere to be seen. Neither was Kent. 

That couldn’t fucking be good. 

“Where the fuck did you two go,” he muttered to himself under his breath.

That’s when he heard it. 

The sound of muffled screaming coming from the side of the building. Joel didn’t hesitate. Following your smothered cries for help, he whipped around into the dimly lit alley nestled in between the bar and the commune’s mess hall. You’re pinned underneath Kent with your skirt bunched up around your waist. One of his hands was covering your mouth while his other hand clawed its way up your bare thigh. 

“Aw, c’mon now, sugar,” Kent slurred his words together. “It’d be a fucking shame to let someone as cute as you stay a fucking virgin. Don’t be coy—I know you’re just like your stupid slut of a sister. She’s got no trouble spreading her fucking legs for me, y’know.”

Red.

It was the color that flashed in Joel’s mind. It was all he could see as he went up behind Kent, letting his hands reach for fistfuls of his leather jacket. He lifted him off of you with ease, slamming him hard against the brick wall of the mess hall. Pulling him forward, Joel slammed his body into the wall once more, knocking all the wind out of his lungs. 

“Miller, what the fuck are you doing!” Kent gasped out, frantically pawing at the older man’s hands in an effort to break free. “Get the fuck off me!”

“Takin’ advantage of an innocent girl?” Joel hissed at him, tightening his grasp on the collar of Kent’s jacket. “Think that makes you a fuckin’ man?”

Though he was still intoxicated, the sheer terror of being caught in Joel Miller’s hands sobered him just enough that he started sputtering an explanation. “I wasn’t fucking taking advantage of her! Her and her whore sisters were making eyes at me and the guys all fucking night! She fucking wanted it! She asked me for it, couldn’t even wait long enough to get back to my place—”

The lie came straight through his chattering teeth. The same teeth he would be picking up off the ground in the next minute or two. 

Joel knew he didn’t need to ask. Still, he turned to you, his rage only intensifying when he took in the sight of you lying there on the ground, the hem of your light blue floral skirt hiked around your waist. 

“That true?” He questioned you. “You wanted it?”

You stared at him with wide and fearful eyes.

A single tear slipped down the side of your face.

“Answer me, darlin’,” he prompted. “You wanted this?”

“No. I didn’t.” Your voice was small, barely audible.

But he’d heard it loud and clear. 

“She’s lying!” Kent tried to tell him. “She’s—”

Joel delivered the first punch, a blow so hard he’d felt the younger man’s nose crack underneath his curled fist. He struck him again and again, the blows coming in harder and harder, turning Kent’s face into a bloodied pulp.

If Joel didn’t get a grip, he would kill him. Part of him wanted to fucking kill Kent for putting his hands you—and more so for accusing of you wanting it. Pathetic fucking bastard. 

Holding Kent up by the throat with one hand, Joel pulled his switchblade from the back pocket of his jeans with the other. Fingers curled tightly around the hilt, Joel held up the knife into Kent’s view. He had left his eyes purple and swollen, but judging by the pitiful little pleas for mercy, it was clear that he could still somehow see the sharp blade being held an inch or so away from his face. 

“If I ever catch you anywhere near her again, I ain’t gonna be so fuckin’ generous,” Joel growled warningly. “I ain’t gonna let you walk away next time, boy. That understood?”

He nodded. “Un—Understood.”

“Good.” Joel released him, stepping backwards as he fell to the ground. “Get the fuck outta my face. Now.”

Kent managed to scramble to his feet and staggered off, disappearing from the alley. 

Chest heaving, Joel inhaled a deep breath through his nose, then exhaled it through his mouth before turning to you once more. 

Petrified, you still hadn’t moved a single muscle.

You looked fucking terrified. Whether it was from Kent’s assault or the way Joel had nearly beaten him to death right in front of you, it was hard to tell.

Crouching down beside you, Joel caught your subtle flinch. He proceeded to move slowly as he reached for the hem of your skirt. Delicately, he gripped the soft, flowing fabric and pulled it down into place. Joel then held his hand out to you. 

You hesitated for a split second, but accepted his hand and allowed him to help you up to your feet. 

“You alright, little dove?” The nickname had fallen from his lips before he could even think to stop it. 

“I think so,” you replied, nodding your head. You’d started to tremble and even though it had nothing to do with being cold, Joel took notice of it and he shrugged out of his camel colored jacket. He gave it to you, draping it over your shoulders. The scent of him instantly enveloped you—a mouth watering masculine mixture of clean soap, woodiness, and musk. It was far more intoxicating than the scotch you had tried back inside the bar. He didn’t utter a word to you as he wrapped his jacket around your body, both of his hands pulling gently at the lapels to bring them together in front of your chest. That was when you glanced down and saw he’d injured his hand. You gasped lightly. “Are you okay?”

Maybe it was the adrenaline, but Joel hadn’t even noticed that he’d split his knuckles wide open. Giving it a light shake, he assured you gruffly, “M’fine.”

Without thinking it through, you gingerly grabbed Joel’s hand, holding it in both of yours. “It doesn’t look like nothing,” you countered. You inspected it as best as you could in such poor lighting. “You’re bleeding.”

“Trust me, I’ve had a whole lot worse,” he deadpanned.

Ignoring his remark, you asked, “Can you move all your fingers for me? Just to make sure that it isn’t broken?”

Joel felt a strange warmth radiate in his chest. 

Fucking hell, Tommy had been right about you. 

You really were too good.

“Darlin’ I already told you m’fine—”

“Please?”

That word, and the way you’d said it, sent a shiver up the length of his spine.

Joel started wiggling his fingers in your palms. He winced slightly at the soreness. More than that, he knew his cuts and bruises would be all the fucking proof Tommy and Maria would need to know that he had been the one who rearranged Kent’s face. 

“See?” He spoke after a minute as he continued to move his fingers up and down. “Ain’t broken.”

“Let me clean you up,” you offered. Looking up at him, you cradled his hand as if it were a fragile baby bird you wanted to take home and nurse back to health.

“That really ain’t necessary.”

“You just saved me from—it’s the least I can do for you,” you insisted. Seeing him open his mouth just to protest again, you cut him off. “Please?”

There it was again.

Christ. That word sounded too good coming from those plush, pretty lips of yours. 

Joel sighed out in defeat. “Alright then,” he relented. “I s’ppose there ain’t no harm in lettin’ you clean me up a bit, little dove.”

Pleased that he had finally accepted, you carefully let go of his hand and took a step back, beckoning for him to follow you. “Come with me,” you said to him. “I know somewhere private we can go.”

When you came to a stop at the old church house, Joel shook his head and took a step backwards. 

Puzzled, your brows knitted together. “What is it? What’s the matter?”

He backed away further. “I ain’t goin’ in there.” 

You tossed him an amused glance. “It’s a church.”

“Yeah, I know that. I ain’t exactly a man of God.” 

You couldn’t help but giggle. “So? What does that have to do with me taking you inside to clean your hand up for you?”

Shuffling his weight from boot to boot, Joel shrugged. “Just don’t think I belong in there, that’s all.”

“Do you think you’re going to melt if you step foot inside?” you teased him. After a minute, it became apparent that he was being serious about it. Joel’s discomfort about going inside the church wasn’t some kind of joke on his part, it was real. “Don’t be silly. It doesn’t matter that you’re not a man of God. That doesn’t mean that you’re going to explode or burn into a pile of ashes for going inside, you know.”

“After all the terrible shit I’ve done?” He looked up at the building, shaking his head again. “I just might burn, little dove.”

You bit back a small smile. You’d already grown to be quite fond of his sweet nickname for you. 

“There’s a first aid kit inside I can use to patch you up,” you told him. “It won’t take long, I promise.”

His lower lip rolled in between teeth as he thought it over. “I ain’t too sure about this—”

“It’s only going to take me five minutes to get your hand cleaned up and then you can leave. Okay?”

You were as stubborn as you were sweet. How the fuck was he supposed to say no to you?

Reluctantly, Joel finally agreed to it. “Okay.” He followed you up the creaking, wooden porch steps towards the double doors. He’d just started to wonder how the two of you were even supposed to get into the building after hours when you leaned down, lifting the old mat on the floor to reveal a set of keys. Unable to help himself, he scoffed, “Serious?”

“Doesn’t everyone keep a key under their mat?” 

“Yeah at their fuckin’ house. Not their church.” 

“Well to be fair, this is kind of like a second home. I spend quite a bit of time here,” you confessed.

Joel raised an eyebrow at you. “So much time that you’ve decided to keep a set of keys under the mat?”

Sheepishly, you nodded. “Sometimes when I can’t sleep at night, I’ll come here alone and sit with my thoughts for a while.” You shrugged. “Maria let me have the spare set of keys. She knows I come here and so does the rest of the council. I trespass with their full permission,” you kidded with a small grin. 

Unlocking one of the two doors, you stepped over the threshold and waited expectantly for Joel. But he stood there, making no move to join you on the other side. 

“This place gives me the fuckin’ creeps,” he admitted. 

You laughed. “It’s only the outside that’s creepy, I promise.”

Grimacing, Joel finally walked inside, his back and shoulders stiff with tension as he stepped into the place of worship. 

You closed the door and flipped on the lights, then opened a second set of double doors with another key from the ring. 

“Whoa.” He was pleasantly surprised. For as old as this place was, the interior of the church was quite nice. He could tell that it had been well cared for in its lifetime—the former contractor in him had little choice but to appreciate the high ceiling, the large windows, and the satin finish of the white paint on the rustic, wooden panel walls. 

There were a total of twelve pews, six on each side of the church. There was an older, antique piano in pristine condition nestled over in one corner of the room and in another, there was a large chalkboard propped up on a wooden easel, biblical verses that had been the focus of the congregation’s previous gathering still scribbled across it in white chalk. 

“See?” You nudged his arm with your elbow. “This isn’t so awful, right?”

“S’ppose it ain’t all that bad,” he muttered. 

Your eyes twinkled with pure amusement, adding, “And you didn’t burn into a pile of ashes.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Joel grumbled out in response. “Can we just get this over with so I can get outta here?”

You tossed him a playful little eye roll then nodded towards the pews. “Go ahead and just have a seat anywhere,” you instructed him. “I’ll be right back.”

You disappeared down a short, dimly lit corridor.

Letting out a heavy sigh, Joel slowly made his way down the aisle holding his injured hand against his chest. Now that the adrenaline had started wearing off, it’d started throbbing with pain.

There was an altar at the front of the church—if he could even call it an altar. 

It was a plain oakwood table with a white fair linen cloth draped over it and nothing else. 

Above it, bolted onto the wall, was a wooden cross.

He averted his eyes, turning away from it. 

Of all the shit to be intimidated by in this world. 

A fucking slab of carved wood. 

Joel’s attention shifted over to the chalkboard. He squinted at it, silently reading the verse to himself.

God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability. 1 Corinthians 10:13

“But with the temptation, he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it,” you recited the rest of the verse from behind him.

“No offense darlin’, but it sounds like nothin’ but a whole lotta gibberish to me,” he remarked to you over his shoulder. 

“No offense taken, Joel.”

Whirling around on the heel of his worn boot, Joel blurted, “How did you know my name?”

“You’re Tommy Miller’s brother. Everybody in this town knows your name.” You held up the white tin box in your hands. A big, red cross had been spray painted onto the lid. You sat down in the first pew and patted the seat right beside you. “Come sit.”

He sauntered over and dropped down next to you, watching as you opened up the box and started digging through its contents. “You know my name,” he stated after a few seconds of silence. “Sure would be nice for me to know yours.”

Smiling politely, you told him your name.

Joel repeated it. It rolled almost too sweetly off his tongue.

“S’real pretty, little dove. Just like you.”

His compliment nearly knocked all of the air out of your lungs and for a split second, you have to remind yourself to breathe.

Cheeks burning, you murmured a small thank you and plucked a bottle of saline solution from the kit along with a piece of clean cotton. You tried not to think about the way his eyes were fixed intently on you as you unscrewed the cap and poured a bit of the liquid onto the cotton. “It shouldn’t sting,” you reassured him, reaching for Joel’s injured hand. It was rough and calloused, a stark contrast against your own soft and smooth. You set his hand down on your knee, a strange sensation fluttering in the depths of your lower belly when the warmth of his skin seeped right through the fabric of your skirt. 

Comfortable silence fell over the both of you like a curtain as you started cleaning the blood off of his knuckles and his long, thick fingers. 

“You really believe in all this stuff?” Joel spoke, his question echoing off the bare walls of the church. 

You continued dabbing at his cuts, thinking it over in your head for a moment.

“I honestly don’t know,” you admitted.

Your answer took him by complete surprise.

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I have always been taught to believe in God, Joel. It’s all that I’ve ever known. I grew up in a religious community,” you explained to him, making sure to keep your eyes focused on his hand. Tossing aside the bloodied wad of cotton, you picked up another piece adding more saline to it. “After the outbreak, things changed, of course. I couldn’t imagine how He could let something like this happen. When we lost our mother to infection about five years ago, I stopped praying. I finally stopped holding onto the ounce of hope I had that He would make the world right again. I refused to believe in God. Sometimes I still do,” you confessed quietly.

“You said you spend a lot of time here. Why come to church if you’re not even sure you believe in any of this shit anymore?”

“I’m always here because there’s still a part of me that thinks there’s a chance for me to believe again. When I told you I come here when I can’t sleep at night, it’s true. It’s my time to be here completely alone, the time that I use to mend my broken relationship with God. Or at least, I’ve been trying to mend it.” Taking a little glass pot of homemade antibiotic ointment one of the women in the town made and traded, you took off the lid and scooped out some of the salve with the tip of your finger. You applied it carefully to his cuts and continued, “But lately, the more that I try to pray and talk to Him, the more foolish I feel. It’s just not working. It hasn’t been working for a long, long time.”

“Then why keep tryin’ if it ain’t workin’ anymore?”

“Because I don’t really have much of a choice.”

“Your old man?” Joel guessed, wincing slightly as you went over a particularly sore spot on his hand, right over the torn up knuckle of his index finger. 

“Mhm.” You nodded. “My father never lost faith in Him. He knows how I feel, but he refuses to let me give up on God. He won’t ever let me miss church or go to bed without reciting my nightly prayer. He won’t let me abandon our faith. Not until the day he is cold and buried in his grave.”

“So what I’m gettin’ is that he forces you?”

You finished applying the ointment and wiped the remnants lingering on your finger off on your skirt.

“Force is such a harsh word. I wouldn’t say that—”

“He’s forcin’ you,” Joel said, flatly. 

“Joel—”

“You can twist it however the hell you want, sweet girl,” he cut you off. “But if you’re tryin’ this fuckin’ hard to make yourself believe in somethin’ just for the sake of appeasin’ your dad because he can’t or won’t accept how you really feel ‘bout all this, well I hate to break it to you, but you’re bein’ forced.”

Your eyes widened ever so slightly at his words. 

You had never thought about it like that before.

Placing the lid back onto the pot of ointment, you put it back into the first aid kit and then set the tin box down onto the floor. You sat back and clasped your hands together in your lap, not knowing what else to say to him. 

He was right, after all. 

Joel’s fingers lightly squeezed your knee. “Hey.”

You brought your gaze over to meet his. “Hm?”

“Can I ask you somethin’ ‘bout your dad?”

“What is it?” 

Joel chose his words carefully. “Has he ever—he ain’t ever done anythin’ to hurt you, has he?” he asked you, earning himself a perplexed stare. He continued to elaborate. “What I mean is, he ever put his hands on you or anythin’ like that?”

Oh. That’s what he meant.

“Never,” you assured him quickly. “He would never lay a single finger on me or my two sisters.”

He gave your knee another squeeze. “Just needed to make sure of it, sweetheart. Back in the day, I used to hear and see awful things on the news ‘bout—”

You were quick to cut him off. “Look, my father isn’t perfect, but he’s not like that. He’s a good man who only wants what is best for us. He’s strict and he can be tough, but it’s only because he cares. He just doesn’t want us running down the wrong path.”

“The wrong path?”

You shrugged. “Life here in Jackson is decent, but there’s a lot of temptations he doesn’t want any of us falling into. He wants to protect us.”

“By controllin’ you.” 

It had been a statement, not a question. 

Giving him a wry smile, you assured him, “Joel, it’s really not as bad as you’re making it sound. I could be a whole lot worse off than this, you know.”

There was another short bout of silence.

Joel’s dark eyes fell to your blouse, noticing how a couple of the top buttons had come undone. 

He caught the slightest glimpse of the soft curves of your breasts—all it had taken was just a peek at them for his cock to twitch against the zipper of his jeans.

Don’t you get hard in a fuckin’ church, Miller.

His gaze wandered down a little further and that’s when he caught sight of the cross hanging from a delicate gold chain clasped around your neck.

Joel expected the sight of it to calm the straining in his jeans. Somehow, it only made it worse. 

“Earlier, when we were standing outside,” you had started to say, “You said you might burn if you came inside the church because of all the terrible shi—things that you’ve done.”

“S’right.”

You peered at him with curiosity. “So what exactly have you done, Joel?”

Joel leaned back into the pew, shaking his head at you as he finally pulled his hand from your knee. 

“You really don’t wanna know, little dove.”

“Why not?”

His answer was honest.  “Don’t want you to be scared of me.”

Angling your body towards him, you placed one of your hands on his thigh. Your fingers burned right through the dark blue denim of his jeans.

Joel’s lips parted slightly, taken aback by the bold move and the sudden shift in your demeanor.

Were you the same girl who’d nearly had a fucking heart attack a couple of weeks ago when Joel had nodded at you back at the stables? 

“I’m not scared of you,” you murmured, softly. You gave his leg a squeeze, pulling your plump bottom lip between your teeth. Between that and the wide innocent doe eyes that you were giving him, it was taking every last ounce of strength Joel had inside him to keep a straight face, to pretend you weren’t driving him absolutely wild with desire.

He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d felt such an incredible need to have someone. 

Want, sure. 

He had wanted Tess. He had wanted Esther. 

But Joel didn’t just want you. 

He fucking needed you. 

And he didn’t know why.

“I’m not scared of you,” you repeated, trailing your hand further up his thigh, setting a fire neither one of you would soon be able to contain. 

Joel leaned forward, bringing his face dangerously close towards yours. His warm breath fanned over your lips. It was still laced with bourbon. “You sure ‘bout that, darlin’ girl?” 

You tried to answer him in the steadiest voice that you could muster, but it was impossible for you to hide the effect this man had on you. 

You breathed out a shaky, “I’m sure.”

Lifting his uninjured hand, he reached up to tuck a loose lock of hair that had fallen out of your braids behind your ear. As his hand fell away, the palm of it grazed against the silkiness of your cheek. 

Though brief, the contact sent an electric current through each and every last single nerve ending in your entire body. 

Exhaling sharply, your eyelids fluttered closed. You nearly whimpered out his name. “Joel?”

“What is it, babygirl? What do you want?”

“I—I want you to kiss me.” 

Joel leaned in even closer, stopping only when his mouth was less than an inch away from yours. 

You heard him chuckle softly. 

“Y’know, I’d expect better manners from a good girl like you,” he tsked lightly, his nose skimming near the corner of your mouth. Closer. “What’s the magic word, little dove?”

“Please.”

“S’much better.”

Your heart pounded with anticipation.

It was almost too much for you to handle. 

Joel closed the remaining gap of space, capturing your lips with his own. He remembered his brother talking about you at the bar—how he had told Joel that you had never even held a man’s hand before.

It occurred to him that he was giving you your first kiss. Him. Joel Miller. The town’s resident asshole and a man who was well over twice your own age. He was the one giving you your very first kiss. 

The guilt suddenly started to creep in, sinking into his bones.

What the fuck had he been thinking? 

And what about you? 

Where the fuck had your common sense gone?

Probably ran off together with Joel’s.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, pulling away slightly in an attempt to stop it from going any further. He tried again, mumbling against your lips, “We gotta stop. This ain’t right—”

You were having none of it. 

None. 

Clutching fistfuls of Joel’s denim shirt, you swung your leg over his thighs and straddled his lap. Your knees rested on either side of him on the bench. 

“Please,” you nearly pleaded. “Just kiss me. I want it—I want this. I promise you that I do.” You placed both of your hands on his broad shoulders, sliding them around him as you slowly sank down further onto his lap. “I want this, Joel.”

Suddenly, he realized that you were asking him for more than just his kiss. 

Now he knew for sure that all common sense had left that pretty little head of yours. 

“Baby, y’need to think real hard ‘bout this—”

Desperate, you uttered one final, “Please.”

Joel bit back a groan. How could he deny you? 

He couldn’t. Simple as that. 

“You sure ‘bout this?”

Your fingers toyed with the curls at the nape of his neck. “Yes. I’m sure.”

“C’mere then, darlin’ girl.”

Joel cupped the side of your face in his large palm and tilted his head up towards yours. Your mouths fused together and although he tried to be gentle, it was proving to be much too difficult—how could he be gentle when you were practically clinging to him? Holding onto him with fervor as if you’d been holding onto dear fucking life itself? 

Temperatures rising, you quickly shrugged out of his jacket, letting it fall to the floor behind you with a soft thud before wrapping your arms around him once again. You melted against him as your mouth molded to his in a perfect fit. 

His teeth nipped at your bottom lip, silently asking for permission to explore the cavern even further. 

Eagerly, your lips parted, granting him access. His tongue slipped past them, meeting yours in a slow and sensual heated dance. 

You breathed him deeply into your lungs, a little moan vibrating at the back of your throat. 

Joel’s hands went to your waist and he yanked the hem of your blouse free from your skirt. 

“Can I feel you, baby?” he asked, breathlessly. His mouth abandoned yours and he began to trail hot, open mouthed kisses underneath your jawline. 

Dazed, all you could do was nod in reply and utter, “Mhm.”

Joel’s hands slipped under your blouse and he slid them up the length of your sides. “Fuck, you gotta be the softest fuckin’ thing,” he cursed against the delicate, tender flesh of your neck. His lips latched onto your pulse point, suckling at the skin there as his fingertips dug into your hips. He needed to feel more, but he forced himself to wait. The last thing he wanted to do was make a wrong move or move too fast and scare you off.

“Joel,” you mewled his name. “Joel, I need—”

You trailed off, moaning when his mouth released your skin with a loud, wet popping noise. 

“Tell me, sweet girl. Tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you,” he promised. “Anythin’ you need or want, I’ll give it to you. Just say the fuckin’ word.”

“You, Joel. I need you.”

His hips involuntarily bucked upwards and you let out a startled gasp the moment you felt his bulge, hard as a rock, brush against your clothed cunt. 

Tearing away from him, it suddenly hit you. You’re in a church, straddling a much, much older man in a pew—and if that wasn’t sinful enough, the warm and slick arousal pooling between your thighs only proved that you were ready to fall into temptation, give into the lust and give your body to Joel. But it was none of those things that worried you. It was something else. 

You pulled yourself out of his arms and jumped up off his lap, nearly tripping over your own two feet.

“Darlin’ are you—?”

You didn’t even hear the rest of his question.

Knees trembling, you somehow managed to make your way up to the altar. Heart pounding and head spinning, you planted both of your hands firmly on the table and steadied yourself. Part of you hoped that Joel would just get up and leave. But a bigger part of you hoped he wouldn’t. 

Joel rose to his feet. “Listen, ain’t nothin’ wrong if you changed your mind, alright?”

“I didn’t,” you choked out. “That’s—that’s not it at all.”

“Then what’s the matter?”

Embarrassed, you tried to explain yourself. “I have never done anything like this before. I’m a—”

You couldn’t even bring yourself to say the word out loud. 

“You’re a what?”

Blazing heat flooded your face. “Joel, please don’t make me say it,” you groaned. “For the sake of my sanity, don’t make me say it.” You heard the sound of his brown leather boots as he walked up behind you, one heavy footstep after the other.

“Turn around, sweet girl.” 

Joel’s command was firm but still gentle. 

Swallowing dryly, you obeyed and did as you were told. He stood close and you found yourself at eye level with his chest. 

“Look at me.”

You tried, but couldn’t. 

“I said, look at me.” Joel gingerly took your chin in between his thumb and index finger. He lifted your face, forcing your gaze to meet his own, timid and submissive meeting bold and dominant in a sweet and tender exchange. “Never known the lovin’ of a man, have you little dove?”

He backed you up against the table, pinning you in between it and himself. Planting both of his hands on either side of you, he caged you in and brought his chest flush against yours, pressing your bodies together.

Close, but somehow not close enough.

Joel lifted his hand to your cheek, cradling it in his palm. His thumb swept over your quivering bottom lip.

You reached behind you, clutching at the fair linen as you tried with every fiber of your entire being to remind yourself that you were standing at the altar where your father preached and delivered all of his sermons to the faithful people of Jackson. 

The very same altar where your father encouraged you to kneel and pray in effort to mend the broken relationship you had with God. 

You couldn’t help but to think if you were to get on your knees tonight, it wouldn’t be for prayer.

“I asked you a question, darlin’.” Joel’s voice broke into your train of thought. “Need you to be a good girl and give me an answer, alright?”

“My father loves me,” you stammered out in reply. “He loves me and my sisters—”

“C’mon, babygirl.” He chuckled and shook his head at you, lightly pinching your cheek. “That ain’t what I mean and you damn well know it.”

Sighing softly, you finally answered, “No, Joel.”

“No, what?”

“No, I’ve never known the loving of a man.”

Joel slipped the tip of his thumb between your lips and leaned into you, his hardness pressing against your upper thigh. Even through all the clothes, you could feel every inch of him. “Do you wanna know how it feels, baby? What it feels like when a man makes you his own?” 

You nearly moaned around his finger. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?” he prompted, pulling his hand away.

“Yes, please.”

“I can show you.” Joel paused. “But not tonight.”

You stared at him in disbelief. Both of you were so clearly riled up and he was going to take a pass?

He almost laughed at your expression. 

“C’mon, don’t give me that face.”

“But Joel—”

“Just don’t wanna rush it, not with you,” Joel said in a tone so soft it nearly threw you for a loop. “M’gonna need you to be real patient for me, just for a little while, alright? You think you can do that, little dove? Think you can be patient for me?”

Your answer came without an ounce of hesitation.

“Of course,” you breathed.

You would wait an eternity for Joel Miller.

#joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller series #joel miller story #joel miller self insert #the last of us fic #pedro pascal characters #fic: fall into temptation

[pandoraslxna]

❄️ Kinkmas — 09. Xenophilia ❄️

Neteyam x female human reader x Lo‘ak

⋆｡° ✮ Minors Dni 🔞

⋆｡° ✮ Kinkmas Masterlist

⋆｡° ✮ Warnings: alien biology, oral (m receiving), threesome (mmf), dirty talk, praise, bioluminescence cum, a/b/o elements

⋆｡° ✮ Art credit: @sleepthight____ on twitter

⋆｡° ✮ Translations: sevin = pretty, paskalin = honey

It’s curiosity that makes you do it, but you don’t even dare to complain about the turn of events when two sets of loincloths are discarded to somewhere on the ground and you’re suddenly face to face with the two strangest, yet most prettiest cocks you’ve ever seen.

Their tails rhythmically sway behind their backs, excited and eager, and they stare you down so intensely and with so much lust in their eyes that your heart begins to race.

Alien, that’s what they look like to you.

You’ve seen the human equivalent a dozen times before, in reality, in porn, in biology books. You know what they’re supposed to look like for your kind. But this is all different.

To be fair, Lo’ak’s cock looks a lot more human like than you thought. It’s still blue, obviously, and there’s also his enormous size, big enough to be compared to your forearm, but it looks relatively close to a human dick. His tanhì seem to sparkle in the rhythm of his throbbing heartbeat, the mushroom-like tip leaking pre-cum from it’s slit that almost looks… shimmery.

And then there’s this part of him that’s not so human like. A knot on the base of his shaft. It’s not that big, not yet, but that thing is supposed to… it’s supposed to swell the closer he is to his climax, and then he can push it inside his preferred mate. The primary reason for this is to ensure impregnation. You swallow thickly at the thought of that thing going inside you– going inside anywhere. Would it even fit? You doubt it.

What takes you by surprise is that unlike Lo’ak, Neteyam’s cock seems to come out of a slit. You guess the reason for this must’ve been in their mixed DNA, because just like some of their other features, Lo‘ak comes more like his father who was once human himself, while Neteyam comes after his mother, gifting him with the more Na‘vi-like features.

In comparison to size, he‘s not so different from Lo‘ak. Maybe a little girthier, and his knot seems to be more prominent too, but that’s it.

What’s interesting however is, that his shaft is glistening slightly in what you assume must be some natural lubricant from it’s protecting sheath, and you fight the urge to touch it just yet. Not before you’re done with your admiration.

Luckily, both men seem to be pretty content with just standing there, grinning from ear to ear as they watch you squirm and shuffle on your knees while you take in every detail of their foreign biology. It’s for scientific reasons after all. At least that’s what you had told them, but neither of you was so sure about this now.

"What’s the matter, hm? Nervous?", Lo‘ak is the first to break the silence, cocking his head in a teasing way as he glances down at you.

You know he’s referring to the way you’re suddenly struck speechless, when you can normally barely keep your mouth shut. The deep blush spreading over your cheeks must’ve been a pretty clear sign to them that your thoughts had wandered far off the original purpose of this whole situation.

"No", you breathe out, and mentally curse the way your voice comes out quiet and a little shaky.

"Don’t be", Neteyam smiles warmly. "You can touch us if you want."

You can’t help the way your mouth begins to salivate as you watch Lo‘ak stroke his hard cock right in front of your face, the tip leaking more pre-cum with every tug and pull. "Go on, baby. Don’t be shy", Lo‘ak urges, licking his lips, and Neteyam gives you a small, reassuring nod.

You shuffle a little closer on your knees and then take them both into your trembling hands. Neteyam sucks in a breath at the sensation of your soft hands on his cock and Lo‘ak let’s out a small groan. They’re both very warm to the touch, skin taunt and firm. You squeeze Lo‘ak’s cock with your left hand and stroke Neteyam‘s with your right.

They twitch and throb in your palms, both of them too big for you to close your hands entirely around their girth. The realization alone makes you feel uneasy, and you slowly begin to feel heat pooling from your core and smearing between your thighs. Experimentally, you switch between squeezing and stroking, letting your hands glide over their knots, thumbs swiping over their leaking slits.

Heat floods your cheeks when Neteyam suddenly cups your face in one hand and steps just a little closer. You exchange a glance, like a silent confirmation of consent, before he nudges the head of his cock against your plump lips, smearing his pre over them with relish.

"Say you want it, c‘mon", Neteyam mumbles lowly, too lost in the sight of your lips on his cock to even look you in the eyes, "Say you want to suck our cocks. We know you do."

Lo‘ak’s cock throbbed in sympathy at his words, his hands closing tight around your own as he slowly rocked his hips forward to thrust into your palm. You almost didn’t hear the muttered Na‘vi curses over the rapid sound of your own breathing.

You then press a small kiss to his tip and Neteyam can’t help but huff out a breath, smiling at the precious sight before him.

Both of them were watching you with half lidded eyes, as you dragged your tongue up the underside of his cock, making him groan, enjoying the feeling of that wet, warm muscle against his hard length.

The taste of his pre-cum is strangely sweet, you think to yourself. Not at all like human seed tastes.

You drag the flat of your tongue up, the tip of it flicking just beneath the head of his cock, before you take him into his mouth and start bobbing your head up and down. His hips jerk at the sensation and he rolls his neck back with a moan. "Fuuck, there you go", he breathed heavily, "That’s it, sevin. Good girl, keep going just like that."

Meanwhile, Lo’ak tries to restrain himself– to restrain the urge to just flip you onto your stomach and fuck you senseless, make you scream his name for the whole lab to hear, while you stroke his cock in a similar pace as you sucked off his brother. Spitting onto his shaft, it lubes the way for you to stroke him more fluidly, faster, and he thrusts forward into your palm.

Neteyam was so far from being fully buried inside your mouth, his size was making it incredibly difficult, but he could feel you push yourself to your limit. You were making these wet noises that went straight to his dick, while your soft hands stroked every inch your mouth couldn’t reach.

"Eywa, if her mouth is already this tight…", Neteyam mumbled between low groans, his hand cradling the back of your head and gently pushing you up and down his length and you willingly let him guide you.

"I can’t wait to feel that sweet human pussy around me", Lo‘ak chimed in, winking at you when you glanced in his direction. "But first I want those pretty lips on me. C‘mon baby, my turn."

Just as your gagging had grown a little louder, you’re suddenly pulled off of his cock. Both of them admire the strings of glistening saliva connecting Neteyams tip to your swollen lips, while you gasp for air, panting. Your hands however keep pumping both of their cocks, as you turn your attention to Lo‘ak.

"Open wide for me", he says with a grin and you don’t hesitate to do as your told. The younger Sully brother moans obscenely as he slides into your mouth, hips already twitching with the effort to not hold your head still and just fuck your throat.

You look up at him, the tears that had been picking at the corner of your eyes finally tickle down your cheeks, more sounds of little gags filling their ears as he hits the back of your throat, not even halfway in.

"You look so pretty like that, making all these cute noises for us", Neteyam muses and Lo‘ak hums in agreement. "Go on, paskalin. Why don’t you make us cum on that pretty face, hm? I promise you‘ll like it", he says, which makes a knowing grin appear on Lo‘aks face. They share a look between each other just as you switch back to sucking on Neteyam‘s cock, and your brows furrow in curiosity.

"Oh, you’ll definitely want to see that", Lo‘ak chuckles, both of them grinning at you in a way that makes a tingle of excitement run up your spine. "Human girls look prettiest when they’re covered in na‘vi cum…"

#avatar12daysofkinkmas #neteyam x female reader #neteyam x female reader smut #neteyam x human reader #neteyam x reader #lo’ak x female reader #lo’ak x reader #lo’ak x fem!reader #Lo’ak x female human reader #loak x female reader #loak x female reader smut #loak x reader #loak x reader smut #lo’ak x you #atwow #avatar the way of water #avatar #Avatar 2 #Neteyam x reader x loak

[aethelwyneleigh27]

Some Dad!Cod Character Scenario and Appreciation Post

Characters In Mind: Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra, Alex Keller, König, Keegan P. Russ, Gary "Roach" Sanderson.

The original creator of the picture, they also have so many works that are used in so many fanfics as well so please credit her. I found her account here on Tumblr (@ave661) and here is the post.

AFAB!Reader and used pronouns are "you"

Apologies if this is a bit too short but;

ꕥ HOPE YOU ENJOY! ꕥ

A/n: I've had a good but also bad week (good thanks to @puff0o0 and other extremely sweet mutuals), it's neutral, I'm not here to rant of any sort but my personal life has not been good. I understand that not everyone will like me but it feels as though everyone hates me, most of those people happen to be at school. Sure I'm not really going to do anything about it because I prefer avoiding conflict but those same people are trying to flip the story around as if I'm the one who hates them when in reality I don't and by being mean to me they're giving me a reason to dislike them. Sure I'm average academically, sometimes I have difficulty pulling my weight in group works and I'm not outstanding in reportings but we all have our difficulties. I just don't understand people who love to hate on others because they have nothing better to do.

This is a word of advice to everyone, don't let others let you feel insignificant, you aren't and you have many talents that make you different from them. (I don't really practice what I preach because I love self-deprication, however I don't want people to feel the way I do because I know what it can cause)

Disclaimers/warnings: OOC??, Pregnancy, Implied birth, Children (Pretty sure that was obvious from the title), People who don't want/hate children be warned.

Short note: This is also a dedication to all the Mistki and Hozier fans out there <3

He was so used to the smell of hospitals, the smell of medication, it always indicated death for him but this was a whole new feeling. It was the opposite of what he has seen most of his life

So much so that he refused to hold them, afraid of potentially hurting the fragile little one. He looked at you as if you were crazy when you tried to hand him the baby, "Come on now love, you can't just avoid holding them forever" you said to him as of it was a life or death situation.

Hesitantly letting you guide him through the proper way to hold them, he felt his breath hitch at the sound of cooing. The first time the baby opened it's eyes, the first thing they saw being their dad.

The moment he looked at the baby sealed it, he was going to protect them their whole life, he would go as far as feeling all the guilt of having blood on their hands again if it meant your baby would be protected and cared for.

The baby was so small that it's little head was practically the size of his palm, he didn't know initially what to do when the baby cried and shocked himself when he managed to make them stop.

Once the baby was old enough to crawl, he'd let the baby crawl all over him. The little one babbling non-sense while he just chuckled and replied as if he understood what the baby was saying. Gods be damned if he misses an important milestone such as their first word or their first time walking.

You'd often wake up to seeing him shirtless snoozing on the couch, the tv playing only ads for home appliances late at night while the baby only in a diaper having skin to skin contact with their dad, his huge hand big enough to support the little one from falling.

He almost cried the first time your baby reached for his face an touched it, resting it's tiny little fingers on his cheek, giving him a gummy smile. His little one unaware that they just healed something they never broke.

He NEVER wants to ever see your little one grow up, though sure it makes more memories with them, sometimes they just wish time stops for a second so they can enjoy the moment longer.

Initially was terrified that he'd pass his trauma down but he realized that wouldn't be possible and he will NOT ever let them go through what he did.

Eventually chose to resign from his work because the risk was far too much, what if he died? He'd leave you and your child to grieve over him? He won't be there for them growing up and he'd miss everything.

Sure he's worked most his life to get where he is now but nothing is ever worth more than spending a lifetime with you and your child together. He's been lonely almost all his life until he met you.

You are his family, his everything. He promised that whatever happens, he'll crawl home to you...

#cod x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #soap x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #alejandro vargas x reader #rodolfo parra x reader #call of duty fanfiction #cod headcanons #cod scenarios #alex keller x reader #konig x reader #keegan russ x reader #gary sanderson x reader #roach x reader #pregnant reader #afab reader #Aethelwyne Lia writes

[pigeonpeach]

Genshin men as cats!

Prompt: the genshin men are temporarily turned into cats for one day and you as their lover must take care of them and make sure they stay safe

A/n: idk what happened but apparently half of the post got deleted? I’ll have to rewrite it later ;(

Ayato

Oh he’s not happy. He’s probably a shorthaired white cat in terms of appearance. But he is quite annoyed with this predicament. No one is allowed to tell anyone that the Yashiro Commissioner is suddenly a cat. But being a cat is nice. He can lounge and nap all day. He’s probably demanding of attention though. He simply must have your eyes on him. He adores being brushes so lovingly too. Maybe he should have you brush his hair when he’s back to normal.

Al Haitham

Virtually no change. He may still try to read though he won’t be able to turn the pages as easily. He doesn’t mind a few pats but he mostly prefers to be left alone in the nice warm sun to nap the day away. He’s definitely a grey tabby.

Kaveh

He is so distraught! He meows a storm in fustration as he finds he is completely incapable of finishing his projects! You simply must take care of him! You need to have him strapped in like a baby carrier on your chest because he’s just so clingy. He needs constant reassurance and attention. He’s so needy but so cute. Probably a cute little cream colored kitty.

Kaeya

He is also probably a bit annoyed. While yes he gets a complete day off, he can’t do much as a cat. So he’ll probably try to find some entertainment if you don’t keep him thoroughly entertained. He will find a way to sneak out and go play with Klee or annoy Diluc if you don’t keep him in your grasp at all times.

Neuvillette

He is very confused but also curious. On one hand this form is verrrry different than he’s ever had before but its also very beneficial to him. People are far less intimidated and strangely he enjoys being coddled and pet more than he would. Of course miss Furina is teasing the crap out of him but he doesn’t really care. Sitting on your lap, small and warm. Its such a unique experience he will probably never have again.

Wriothesley

Once the dust settles he’s quite relaxed. This is temporary so might as well enjoy it. Sigewinnie has become very attached to him as she constantly makes sure he’s okay. But in particular he loves being held by you. He’s used to being the big strong man who lifts you all the time etc etc. its nice actually being the reverse here. He gets fed special fish from the cafeteria and gets to spend his day in your arms! The perfect break for him! He’s almost sad it’s temporary but he knows he can’t stay like this forever.

Childe

Oh he’s mad! Even when it’s confirmed to be temporary, he is annoyed! How can he improve his fighting skills if he’s a kitty! Sure he’s a adorable little kitty of course but he looks like a baby! Oh his ego is in shatters. It’s unfortunate too because it wasn’t even around his family so he could play with his little brother at least. He’s practically quarantined to keep him safe. He can’t go on kitty adventures. Therefore YOU must make it up to him. He spends his time sulking and trying to play with anything he can. Dangling uniform piece? New toy! Someone’s foot? New toy! He bites! He meows! He hardly naps. He does love cuddling with you though. Still he’s a ball of energy and he cannot simply sit still for long! No doubt will his office be trashed. You’re making him clean it up once he’s back.

Thoma

Stressed! So stressed! He has so many chores! He cannot hold a broom with two paws! You have to make arrangements for him to have the day off which was hard because everyone was upset by his sudden cancellation. Even so he tries to help. He tries to drag the broom but it doesn’t do anything unfortunately. Oh he feels so useless. You must pamper him. Lavish him with kisses and gentle praise. Call him the cutest little kitty in the world! Oh he’s such a affectionate boy too. He acts like a cat with separation anxiety almost. He cannot sleep if you’re not there with him. Therefore you end up spending the day with him, trying to dissuade him from trying to clean a mess and just making it worse, distracting him with a warm blanket and pets.

Zhongli

He probably did so on purpose actually. Perhaps he was a bit bored and decided to spend the day exploring Liyue from a different perspective. It was quite fun for him actually. He watched as people came over to pet him. Unfortunately they also tried to feed him seafood which wasn’t too good. But after the long day he returned home to see you panicked as to where he could be. He decided to come on over to you, still in his cat form, and distract you. It worked as he helped you relax.

You werent too amused when you found out that cat that broke in was him.

Pantalone

He is quite annoyed. Angry in a more agitated way. Don’t mess up his fur! Pet him properly! Don’t ignore him now! He is a demanding little feline. He is not content unless you are entirely focused on him. He even wants you to break up the fish ro serve to him. He isn’t going to eat like a animal! Oh but he is such s cute kitty. Entirely black with big expressive yellow eyes. Oh you can’t help but comply and spoil him a little more! And he has such lovely fur! He does like hearing your gentle praises as you pet him. He never knew how lovely it felt to be small, sleeping on a nice warm lap, being gently brushed, and told sweet little compliments. He may actually want to do this again sometime.

Diluc

Biggest drama king! How can he protect you or Mondstadt like this! Therefore you cannot leave his sight or he’s convinced you will immediately die. You must stay with him so he can protect you? He is a very warm kitty though so it feels nice to snuggle with him. His fur is a bit messy so you’ll have to brush it. Despite him trying to stay vigilant he ends up falling asleep quickly.

#genshin imagines #diluc x you #genshin x y/n #childe x reader #pantalone #pantalone x you #ayato x y/n #thoma x reader #neuvillette #neuvilette x reader #wriothesley x reader #kaeya x reader #zhongli x reader #kaveh x reader #al haitham x reader

[kunikuyu]

Until he gets tired.

Heian Era! Ryomen Sukuna x Male! Reader

Warnings: 🕊️ DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT. Dom! sukuna, sub! reader. reader is simply crazy. Size kink, cut play, mention of the term 'sex slave', dub-con, sex even when passed out, bulge in the belly, begging, abusive relationship, words written intentionally wrong, sukuna has two dicks, fainting, monster romance (for obvious reasons). DNI MINORS.

Summary: Being Sukuna's partner is something completely insane. Aside from the fact that Sukuna is incapable of loving anyone, he seems to take a twisted pleasure in hurting his partners. Every night, [Name] knows that the next day, he will wake up completely destroyed.

The climate was pleasant. Not too cold, not too hot, a gentle breeze blew through the walls and windows of Sukuna's temple. But what made everything scary and strange were the screams that came from inside.

Today was a special day. [Name] and Sukuna, the king of curses, had completed a hundred years together, as partners. Normally no one would celebrate this, since... Who would want to stand next to Sukuna? No one would be crazy enough to do that.

But, [Name] is.

"Uhm~ 'Kuna..."

The ancient sorcerer purrs. [Name] was sitting in the lap of the curse, skin completely exposed for anyone to see, but protected so no one can touch. And of course no one would touch, who would even dare to come close to the one who is so 'well taken care of' by Ryomen Sukuna. His chest was already completely red and full of small cuts, which were leaking almost invisible drops of blood. He didn't even know how he managed to stay awake anymore, it seemed simply impossible not to pass out there. Not because of the small and insignificant loss of blood, but rather for the pain in his lower parts.

[Name] couldn't move, couldn't even dare breathe wrong, if he didn't want to get slapped in the face. It seemed like an impossible task, and it really was, since Sukuna's dick wasn't just anything, or just an organ. It was big, ridiculously big, it seemed like a joke to imagine that it could fit on someone. So much so that only the cockhead managed to enter the sorcerer's body.

But Sukuna didn't care at all, of course not. He smiled when he saw his flushed face, expressing pain and clearly distorted pleasure. And instead of helping, he only makes the situation worse, squeezing hard around [Name]'s entire length so that he's unable to cum. This felt more like a punishment than a reward for staying by his side for so long.

"Such a dirty little whore... Are you that used to it? Don't you even scream in desperation for me to get out of you? I don't know if I find this interesting or pathetic." He says, with his typical arrogant and self-centered tone.

Deciding that he would take things more seriously, the King of Curses pulls [Name]'s hands close enough to him, so that the younger man is completely lying on top of Sukuna, being the perfect target for the all-out aggression the older man has in mind. He liked seeing his partner like this, but he much preferred seeing him screaming and crying because he couldn't handle his dick.

[Name] lets out a howl of pain as his severed chest is thrown hard against Sukuna's chest. It was like a thousand needles going into his skin because of the small cuts located in the area, but he still managed to find pleasure in the pain.

"Sukuna...! That hurts...!"

"I know."

Suddenly, agonizing screams of pain can be heard from far away. The screams were definitely from [Name], who was now being fucked mercilessly. He drooled against the other man's shoulder while still going through the trouble of jerking off his other cock. It was always so painful, the older man's balls aggressively slapped his ass, while his dick reached the deepest layer of his body, crushing his prostate with ease.

"Stop, please!~ Sho painf- ah!"

He doesn't even have time to complain before another of Sukuna's tricks is revealed. The two bodies completely glued together served so that the mouth on the monster-man's stomach could willingly take in [Name]'s red and swollen cock. He doesn't even know what to feel. It hurts, but he's about to cum!

And...

...To faint...

This lasts all night, and several times, [Name] even faints. It didn't end until Sukuna got tired, and he could never easily get tired of his beloved sex slave. When [Name] wakes up in the morning, a small pool of blood was formed on his bed, and next to the bed, a calm and silent Sukuna was cleaning his own body, which was dirty with fluids from both of them. When looking at his body, the sorcerer realizes that his chest was no longer the only thing that was bleeding, but his entire body. His belly was even full, certainly from Sukuna's loads of cum, which were clearly not few. He can barely stay awake for long before passing out again from exhaustion and blood loss.

#male reader #jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna smut #jjk x reader #jjk sukuna #smut #sukuna x reader #sukuna x male reader #jjk #dead dove do not eat

[lis-likes-fics]

The Sound of His Voice

Pairings: Spencer Reid x agent!Reader Word Count: 3k words Warnings: Descriptions of crime scenes/vague gore, mentions of death and murder, standard Criminal Minds stuff, fluff otherwise... A/N: I started watching CM a while ago and now I can't stop so enjoy this. There will be more, I dunno when. (Should I be working on my months-in-progress-wips? Yes, I absolutely should. Am I? Mostly. I'm trying my best)

Morgan rubs his temple, digging his fingers into the side of his forehead as he shakes his head. Tapping his pen on the desk, he tosses down his file. “But here's what I don't get,” he says, drawing the attention of the rest of the team. “If the unsub thinks of his victims as prey, even going as far as to torture the victim, why go through all the trouble of tucking them into bed?”

Hotch looks back at the picture in his own hands, where he had been analyzing the scene for the hundredth time in search of something he missed the first hundred. He shrugs, “Tucking them in can usually indicate signs of remorse.”

JJ motions to the pictures. “Yeah, but look at this guy. Does this look remorseful to you?”

You lift a shoulder, leaning back in your seat and crossing your arms. “Could be a second unsub.”

You are a relatively new addition to the team. It was your fifth case with them, but they already treated you like part of the team, like family. It was easy to sink into the ebb and flow of everything, especially when they trust your skills and instincts and let you know when you're doing something wrong so you know not to do it again.

But this case was difficult. Your unsub had a strange profile: an organized, white male, with surgical experience and the MO reminiscent of a cat. He kills men and women alike, and the only connection between his victims have been their smaller statures.

The age range itself was too wide, though there was a slight reoccurrence of ages between 25 and 35. But it was still too wide, either way, not enough to work with.

He ties up and tortures them before finally ending their lives with strangulation. He uses his bare hands to get the job done, which makes him a sexual sadist. As if that wasn't enough, he carves out the victim’s heart after death and takes it as a trophy.

He shows plenty of psychopathic characteristics, but he also fits the profile of a sociopath, so it's hard to make anything stick. His MO suggests a lack of empathy and guilt, but the bed-tucking… You always lose him with the bed-tucking…

Morgan shakes his head a little, humming. “But we already ruled out multiple unsubs,” he says. You nod gently. “Besides, if this guy is mimicking the hunting habits of a cat, he would hunt alone, wouldn't he?”

Reid’s head perks up. He points a pen in Morgan's direction as he shakes his head. “Actually, no.” He licks his lips, and he's grabbed your attention like a siren to a sailor. “It's a very common misconception that cats are loners, but it's untrue. Cats prefer the companionship of others just as much as a human being would.”

You lean toward him a bit across the table, watching him as he speaks, his hands moving to illustrate his words as he does. “People often think, because of their aloof nature, that they like to be left alone or actually despise the presence of other people, including their owners or other cats—which is why people believe them to be low maintenance creatures. But they are just as social as, say, a dog. Actually, it's interesting, big cats like lions, or sometimes even cheetahs, hunt in packs to take down larger prey. Domestic cats–”

“Reid,” Morgan interrupts, making a cutting motion with his hand to his neck.

Your eyes turn back to Spencer, who seems to retreat in on himself a bit as he gives an apologetic smile and a small nod. “Sorry,” he says, pulling his lips in a wide smile.

You set a hand on the table, shaking your head. “No, keep going. That was interesting.”

Spencer looks at you with these eyes that seem to shine. Your heart feels fonder, warmer, at the sight of him.

“We really don't have time to go through all of this,” Hotch says, his tone final.

“I mean,” you continue. Since joining the team, you've grown a certain affinity toward Spencer and his genius mind. Every time he's gone on his tangents, you've become enchanted by the words coming out of his mouth like he's put some sort of spell over you. You lift a shoulder, gesturing toward him. “If this guy is basing his MO off the hunting patterns of cats, we should…know everything we need to know about them, right?”

Hotch looks at you, his face hard and unreadable. You're unsure if he's considering your proposal or just trying to intimidate you. But then he sighs, his crossed arms loosening a little as he turns to Spencer.

“Reid?”

Spencer looks between you and Hotch, relenting hesitantly as he starts off slow. “Well…I was going to say domestic cats are solitary hunters but sociable creatures.” He picks up his normal speed once more, “They can be very affectionate, especially toward their owners and other cats within their households. They're also one of the only types of cats who play with their prey before killing them, which could be a reason this unsub tortures his victims so extensively in his murders.”

“Wait…” Prentiss says, catching all of your attentions. “You said ‘affectionate toward their owners’.”

“Yeah,” Spencer nods.

She waves her hands gently, “How do cats show affection for their owners?”

Spencer shrugs, “Um, bunting, purring, some scratch, sometimes they leave offerings, like dead rodents, around the house–”

“Right there!” Prentiss exclaims. “They leave offerings.”

You sit up, “The hearts.”

Hotch’s dark brows furrow. “You're saying this unsub is taking the hearts as an offering to someone else?”

Spencer thinks over that, nodding. “It's possible.”

JJ sighs. “But that still doesn't explain why we wouldn't have identified a second unsub earlier.”

Spencer holds out a hand, pointing with his pen. “Actually, it could. You see, cats also have the tendency to mimic the people they hold affection for. We might not have noticed a second MO because the submissive unsub may be mimicking the dominant one.”

“Or learning from him,” Morgan says.

“Learning?” Hotch asks.

Morgan glances around, “Well, if we're sticking so close to this cat thing, older cats often nurture the young and teach them to hunt.” He shrugs, “We could be looking at…brothers? Older and younger?”

“Or lovers,” JJ suggests. She points to a picture, the image of a chest carefully carved open to reveal a missing heart. “If the hearts are offerings, it could be a Valentine.”

“And the bed-tucking?” you ask.

Hotch picks up the picture of one of the victims, “safely” and securely tucked into bed…put to sleep. “Well, if the hearts are offerings for a lover, this unsub is sentimental. He could feel some type of sympathy or guilt for the victim and want to ‘put them to sleep’ after the torture.” He studies the image, a flash of unease behind his eyes that you know all too well. He sets it down.

“Okay, so how do we find them?” Prentiss asks, clicking her pen before setting it down to begin a definitive course of action.

Spencer points to yet another picture. “Look at these injuries. These incisions are surgical,” he clarifies. “So the dominant is a doctor or a—a veterinarian, which can be implied through his intimate knowledge of cats’ behaviors.”

“And the submissive might work under him as a nurse or an assistant,” you continue, adding on to his clever insight. He glances over at you, smiling almost giddily at your understanding.

Hotch turns to Morgan. “Do you think that's enough to work with?”

Morgan thinks for a moment, his shrug melding into a nod as he turns back to Hotch. “To fit in with the rest of the profile,” he hums, “I'd say so.”

“Okay.” Hotch nods firmly. “We'll present the profile ASAP. Morgan, get Garcia to search for any vets in the area with any records of assault charges.” He says this all while taking long strides toward the door, his red tie bouncing slightly with his movements.

Prentiss follows him with her gaze as he exits. “You think the unsub is aggressive?”

He turns briefly. “Look at the bruising on the neck. The torture alone is an indicator of anger and frustration, but the way the victim was strangled suggests force. Much more than necessary just to crush a windpipe. He's an organized killer with a lot of rage. If he moves more along the lines of a sociopath, our best guess is he's had some kind of trouble with the law at some point in his life,” he concludes. Glancing aside, he speaks again, a little more firmly. “Morgan.”

“On it,” he says, his phone already ready to contact Garcia on speed dial.

“And Reid,” Hotch says, focusing his hard stare on the younger agent.

He stiffens, straightening his back and awaiting his response. “Yes?”

There's a pause as Hotch examines him silently. With a single nod, he says, “Good work.”

He glances at you. A nod.

You nod back.

Hotch leaves in a hurry, and your gaze immediately and instinctively flicks to Spencer. He smiles at you, turning away as though he was shyly hiding that same smile.

~

There were two unsubs: a surgical veterinarian and his nurse. You caught them just in time, just as that knife was gleaming in the golden light of the lamps swinging above the three bodies down in the basement of the submissive unsub’s house.

And now you soared 40,000 feet above the ground with another killer put away for good.

Everyone's in their own spirit, placing you across the aisle from JJ and Spencer in their own booths, a crochet set in your lap as you continue one of your projects. Emily's eyes linger on JJ, watching the crease of her brow as she studies case files.

“What are you thinking about?” she asks, setting her book to the side to shift her attention. Derek darts his eyes up from his own book, lifting his brow as he does it.

JJ looks up, breathing in and lifting her shoulder in a half shrug. “I don't know about you,” she says, “but I know that if I got an actual human heart on Valentine's Day, me and my alleged partner would have some serious issues.”

Snorts and chuckles lift from multiple places among the seats, heads shaking and attentions shifting back to their own activities.

But as soon as you hear the first lilt of Spencer's voice, like clockwork, you're a fish on a hook.

“Actually,” he begins, “if we were set back thousands of years, that would not be a very unusual occurrence.” He licks his lips quickly, “You see, Valentine's Day’s origins actually go back to a festival called Lupercal, or Lupercalia. The festival was in itself a very violent and sexually charged affair that lasted roughly three days—from the 13th to the 15th—set in Rome. Its traditions were carried out in two separate locations, firstly–”

“Alright,” JJ rises to her feet, her eyes wide in annoyance as she closes her case file in a large announcement to Spencer. “I'm getting coffee. Do you want anything?”

Spencer purses his lips, that same wide, apologetic grin covering his face as he leans back in his seat and shakes his head. “Uh, no. All good here.”

She nods, turning to walk away, “Great.”

You watch JJ leave, your eyes fall back upon Spencer, who's pulling his book back into his palms to turn his focus back on the pages. His eyes flit over the words at lightning speed, absorbing the information and moving to the next.

Taking your crochet set in your hands, you stand and plop down in JJ’s old spot. Spencer's eyes darts up to you, glancing between you and his book as you set your stuff down and readjust your yarn.

Beginning again, you nod toward him. “You were saying?”

Spencer, his eyes wide and confused and his lips parted in wonder and his cheeks a little pink, stares at you. After remembering he had to respond, he sputters in an attempt to.

“Uh, it's-it's really not that…interesting,” he mumbles, trailing off at the end as he sets his book down, his fingertips pressing against the edge of the desk between the both of you.

“Well,” you look up at him, setting your elbow on the table and tucking your first underneath your chin, “I was very interested.”

His Adam's apple bobs when he swallows. His lips form the word before it comes out of his mouth. “You were?”

You nod, “Mhm.”

Looking at him for a moment—just looking at him for a moment—you take in the pretty sight of his bewildered expression, fascination and confusion and excitement crossing his face in a flurry of emotion.

You move your elbow from the table and pick up your hook, nodding toward him before training your eyes on your work again as you await his words. “Firstly?” you prompt.

Scrambling to organize his thoughts, Spencer nods. As the words form in his brain, he smiles as he thrusts himself into another rant, speaking a little softer so as not to aggravate the rest of the team.

“Well, firstly, the uh— The-the first location was in a cave called Lupercus—named after the Roman fertility god that the celebration was dedicated to—and the second is a public meeting place called the Comitium.”

You tilt your head toward him, smiling a little. “Like the word ‘committee’.”

“Exactly like the word ‘committee’,” he beams.

Your attention, as hard as you tried to split it, becomes entirely caught up in Spencer as you forget about your project and focus your gaze entirely on him. You set your arms on the table separating you and watch as he speaks, your smile definitely too love-sick to be a hint anymore. He seems to lean in closer.

“So how did Lupercalia become Valentine's Day?” you wonder aloud.

“Well,” he starts, prompting a larger grin from you, “in the late 5th century A.D., Pope Gelasius I eliminated it and declared February 14th a day to celebrate the martyrdom of Saint Valentine instead—although it's highly unlikely he intended the day to commemorate love and passion as it is celebrated now. In fact, some modern biblical scholars warn Christians not to celebrate Valentine's Day at all, due to its Pagan roots and rituals.”

You hum, your eyes taking glances at the stretch of his skin over his fingers and the way they move when he speaks.

“Do you celebrate Valentine's Day?” you ask gently, speaking slowly.

His hands fall back down to his lap, and he shakes his head as he straightens his posture a bit. “Well…I don't usually have anyone to celebrate it with, so… No, not really.”

Feeling the shyness slipping into your veins, you set your hands on the table and let your fingers slowly inch toward him, staring at them inside of his eyes. You don't want to see the rejection if it lives there, in his eyes.

You speak slowly, emphasizing every syllable. “Would you like to have someone to celebrate it with?”

He swallows thickly, letting one hand lift onto the table, still close to him but building up courage to maybe meet you in the middle. “Like…” he clears his throat quietly. “Like you?”

You offer a right smile, finally flicking your eyes up to meet his and feeling giddy at the light blush on his cheeks, the nervous wideness of his gaze. “I promise no actual hearts.”

You watch him, and again…his eyes, his Adam's apple, his cheeks, his lips. “Uh…yeah,” he stutters. “Yeah, sure. I'll be your…your Valentine.”

You smile, a wide smile that splits your face in two. Spencer's own grin follows suit. Looking past you, he catches the eyes of Derek, who smirks and offers a cheesy thumbs up, proud of him for securing you as he did.

His gaze falls back to you when you begin to speak, your voice just as song-ish to him as his is to you. You're both equally as infatuated as the other. “You know,” you trail off slowly, “supposedly, Saint Valentine might be so commonly associated with our day of love because there are rumors that he used to perform secret weddings against the wishes of the authorities in the third century.”

He nods slowly, his brows furrowed slightly. “Yes, that's right…” Licking his bottom lip, he speaks again. “You already knew all that stuff about Lupercalia, didn't you?”

You smile, your face squished a bit as you raise your hands and close your thumb and forefinger close together. “Maybe a little,” you whisper. But then you shrug and just keep looking at him. “But I like listening to you talk.”

Spencer suddenly doesn't think you're real, but he isn't about to question it if you aren't. There's someone who enjoys his tangents. He isn't going to jeopardize that.

“Oh,” is all he says.

With your crocheting long forgotten, you lean forward on the table and give him every ounce of attention in your mind. With a fond smile on your lips and a twinkle in your eye, you rest your chin on your folded hands. “You should tell me about…” you pause, thinking, before you smile curls even more, “bees.”

His brows lift as he nods. “Okay, well,” he starts, “did you know the first civilization to practice widespread, organized beekeeping was the Ancient Egyptians, who began beekeeping around 2,500 BCE?”

Your brows lift in fascination. You shake your head, “No, I didn't.”

His smile grows. “Well…”

For the remainder of the flight, Spencer talks and talks and talks, his voice quiet and meant solely for you as he talks about whatever you want: bees and wine and marbles and Halloween. He keeps smiling at you, as you keep smiling at him. Somewhere along the way, he officially asks you on a date, and you both get off the jet together to get a cup of coffee.

You love the way he talks.

Criminal Minds taglist: ... Tag yourself here...

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #female reader

[barcaatthemoon]

just a kid ii || alexia putellas x teen!reader ||

alexia and the team meet your girlfriend, who looks oddly familiar.

"chiqui, come on, you promised that you would help with dinner!" alexia yelled from the kitchen. you looked over your outfit one more time, making sure that it was absolutely perfect before you finally walked out of your room. "i swear she spends more time getting ready than mapi does."

"cut her some slack, tonight is a big night," you heard olga defend you. you smiled, glad that alexia's girlfriend was staying for dinner. the last thing you wanted was to accidentally subject your girlfriend to being alone with alexia this early on. carmen was great, and you didn't trust alexia not to scare her off. olga wouldn't let her do that. alexia was always much calmer whenever olga was around.

"i do not take that long," you grumbled as you walked past alexia. she gave you a look, one that you knew meant not to argue with her. truthfully, you did take quite a while to get up and around most days, but whenever you had to do somewhere, you were always the first one dressed. if anything, alexia had a tendency to take a long time getting the little details of her outfits done, even when it was just her kit.

"both of you stop it before this turns into something else. (y/n), you look very beautiful. what time is your girlfriend coming?" olga asked. you knew that she was probably doing most of the cooking. alexia wasn't a bad cook, but she didn't really have the patience to do big meals like this. she'd make something small for you after practice sometimes, but preferred to order in for her actual meals.

"carmen will be here at 7. we'll eat dinner, and then she wanted to take me out," you told them. alexia looked surprised by the addition to dinner. "ale, please."

"i didn't say anything, but if i let you go out, you have to be back in by 9:30," alexia told you. she poked you in the chest, something that earned her a sharp smack to the back of the head from olga.

"i'll be back by your bed time, don't worry nana," you teased. alexia's jaw clenched as she glared daggers into the back of your head. things had been much calmer since the night you had gotten caught sneaking out. you hadn't really had a conversation about what happened, or why you had gotten so scared, but neither you nor alexia knew how to initiate that.

"one of these days…" alexia grumbled. you chose to ignore her, opting to do what you saw that you could in the kitchen. you didn't mess with anything that looked like it would stain your clothes. alexia set the table while olga finished getting everything ready. you went downstairs to walk carmen up whenever you got the text that she had arrived, just barely managing to talk alexia out of coming with you.

"hi," you greeted your girlfriend. carmen put her arm around you as she leaned in to kiss you. you were beyond nervous about alexia and carmen meeting, but even more so about carmen meeting the rest of the team. whenever you had first signed onto barcelona and started playing, some of the girls had teased you about your very obvious crush on jenni. even jenni had caught onto it, but she had always been nice about it, knowing that it was probably just your hormones. once they met carmen, who admittedly looked an awful lot like jenni, you knew that it would start up again.

"are you ready, mi amor?" carmen asked you.

"maybe a few more seconds of peace," you told her. she nodded, leaning in to press another kiss to your lips. you knew that you couldn't take too long or else alexia would definitely come down there to check on you. so, you opted for moving your little kissing session into the elevator. you were still pressed against each other, obviously engrossed in one another when the doors opened.

"ahem," alexia cleared her throat, causing both of you to jump apart. carmen didn't let you get too far though, holding onto your hand proudly as you were face to face with your guardian. "i was just about to see what the hold up was. everything is ready at the table."

"okay, thank you ale," you said. you tugged carmen along, careful not to let go of her hand as you did so. you had hoped that you'd be able to sit next to carmen, but alexia set the tables up so that you were forced to sit by either olga or her.

"hola," carmen greeted olga. you took the seat next to alexia, noting the frown on the older woman's face as you did. "i'm carmen."

"hola, i'm olga. this is alexia," olga said. you were grateful for her, especially as she steered the conversations over dinner. alexia had been quiet, but polite, allowing for olga to coax more and more information out of carmen throughout the night.

they learned that carmen was in school and played as captain for her school's rugby team. you had met carmen at one of the local gyms that patri and pina took you to during the offseason. alexia hated to admit it, but she really approved of carmen for you. the girl was responsible, and was on the path to playing for her sport's national team, something that alexia admired greatly.

"carmen, come with me, let's have a little chat," alexia said as she motioned towards the balcony. you felt yourself tense up as your girlfriend walked out there with alexia. they shut the door behind them, but you could see them both leaning against the railing as they spoke.

"she's a good one," olga said as she watched them. you smiled and nodded, having known that carmen was good for you for quite some time. there were moments when you thought she deserved someone who could be a little more present, but now that you didn't have to sneak around, you hoped things would change. "alexia approves of her, i can tell."

"really?" you didn't mean to sound so surprised, but you couldn't help it. alexia had driven off quite a few different people who seemed interested in you before, claiming that you didn't need to be dating while you were in the season. and if it wasn't that, she was going on about how you were too young for that sort of thing. "i was scared that she'd be upset about carmen being older."

"two years isn't bad," olga told you. you had turned 16 just a couple of months ago, and carmen had turned 18 barely two weeks ago. she had just gotten her license whenever she came to pick you up, having ridden around on her bike to see you before that. "you two look cute together, but i must say, she looks a little familiar."

"maybe you've seen her at work. carmen works at a coffee shop," you said. olga shook her head, smiling to herself. "i don't know where else you would have seen her then."

"no, no, not like that. she just looks sort of like someone i've met before." olga shot you a teasing smile, but didn't elaborate any more. she looked like she was about to say something else when carmen and alexia came back inside, the two of them laughing about something together.

"are you ready to go? i was thinking we could get ice cream. alexia just wants you back before 11," carmen told you. you glanced over at alexia, shocked that she had extended your curfew by almost two hours. you nodded and ran over to give alexia a hug goodbye, the woman more than a little surprised by the affection. carmen walked you out of the apartment after that, both of you in a good mood after such a successful introduction.

"she looks like jenni," olga noted. alexia nodded, smirking as she pulled her phone out. "what are you doing?"

"seeing if jenni has any family in barcelona. that's freaky," alexia answered. olga rolled her eyes, thinking that alexia was being way too dramatic.

…

"relax," alexia told you as she noticed you glance up at the stands for the tenth time in half as many minutes. "she's probably went to get something to eat. we're not even playing right now."

"i know, but i don't want her to miss my goal," you told her. alexia shook her head as she wrapped her arm around your shoulders. you kept your eyes back on the stand, smiling when you finally saw carmen return. she was sitting with olga and alexia's family, the group having immediately accepted her in as if she was one of their own.

you had waited a little over a week from introducing carmen to alexia and olga before you decided to bring her to a game. carmen meeting alba had been an accident, the two of them running into each other in alexia's apartment building. alba had practically come sprinting up to alexia's apartment to tell alexia all about the "jenni clone" in the lobby. you had rolled your eyes, despite knowing that was what initially attracted you to carmen in the first place.

"where is she going?" irene asked as she watched you sprint straight over to the stands. everybody was watching as you effortlessly jumped the barrier. alexia shook her head as you jumped over a few rows of chairs to get to carmen. she cradled your face as she gently kissed you before alba and eli took your attention. "she's dating, and you're okay with it?"

"apparently, she's been dating, but yeah, i am okay with it. her name is carmen, and she's very nice. (y/n) and her seem very happy. i hope they're together for a long time." alexia wouldn't have let herself get so sappy with anybody else, but she trusted her co-captain to keep it under wraps.

"they certainly do look like quite the couple. hmm, they kind of remind me of another couple…" irene trailed off, nudging alexia as she did. alexia rolled her eyes as she moved forward to join you. you brought carmen down to the pitch to meet some of your teammates, and by the time alexia got over there, jana, claudia, ona, and patri were all crowded around the young couple.

"you already know alexia, but that's irene. she's another one who tries to keep me away from these three." you were excitedly introducing carmen to as many of your teammates as you could, the older girl watching you in amusement. "oh shit, i forgot to ask, did you like the game? i scored a goal for you."

"i loved it, mi amor, it was great," carmen promised you. she pressed a kiss to the side of your head, prompting you to curl into her side. "hola, i'm carmen."

"irene, nice to meet you." irene watched in amusement as you dragged carmen all around the pitch to meet everybody that she could. "oh to be young and in love again."

"so, who is sending a picture to jenni?" ona asked. patri seemingly volunteered herself, walking right up to you and carmen to snap a picture of the three of you together. it was sent off, and alexia noticed the immediate 'read' without a reply.

#woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader

[izurou]

every morning, and often throughout the night, you’ll stretch a foot over to satoru’s side of the bed and make contact with him.

what comes across as a simple desire for physical touch, is actually a habit of yours—one born from both fear and experience. it’d be far from the first time you woke up and he wasn’t there, but things are different now, and you need him to be there.

but this morning, all you feel is cold sheets.

you sit up and rub at your eyes before looking out the window—finding your usual view blurred with rain. you shiver a little at the sight, or maybe—at the foreign emptiness of the room.

and that’s when you realize that, not only is satoru missing from your bed—the small white crib off to your right is also missing your daughter.

you think the worst on instinct. irrational, you’re well aware—there’s no reason for such thoughts anymore, but they still manage to penetrate your freshly conscious mind nonetheless.

that is, until a pair of giggles sneak past the little crack in your bedroom door, acting as the perfect antidote to your conclusion jumping.

now, you find yourself getting out of bed just a bit too eagerly for a gloomy sunday morning—sliding into your slippers before shuffling towards the door and down the hallway. you wrap your arms around yourself as you walk, both hoping for and needing a little extra love from at least one, but preferably both of your babies.

satoru’s voice becomes clearer as you near, and you’re just around the corner when you hear him ask your daughter, who can’t talk yet, a question.

“yeah? you like the rain?”

an odd thing to ask a seven month old, though it makes a little more sense when you actually see them.

the two are in the kitchen, and your daughter—strapped into her high chair, is staring out the large window with her big blue eyes, completely mesmerized. satoru sits hunched over in a dining room chair, watching her with the exact same expression while he holds a plastic green spoon up to her mouth, like he’s interviewing her.

“satoru?” in unison, the duo turn their heads at the sound of your voice. “what are you doing?”

“killing time,” he smiles at you before turning to your baby, who now has her chubby little hands wrapped around a couple of his fingers. “we were starting to think you’d never come to. isn’t that right sweetheart?”

she babbles excitedly in response, seemingly agreeing.

the transition from bassinet to crib hasn’t been an easy one, and last night was probably one of her worst so far. you’ll always rock her, and while she falls asleep easy enough—the second she’s put down, she’ll wake up and cry.

“sorry,” you sigh, padding over to the two. “she was up most of the night, i—”

“needed the rest,” he finishes for you—wiggling his fingers around and earning himself a few more precious baby giggles. “we know.”

you give him a smile, and he returns it in a much more devious fashion—as if he’s saying you owe me for this. on any other day, you’d roll your eyes at something like that, but it’s almost nine am, and you crawled out of bed just moments ago—there isn’t much you wouldn’t do for him at this point.

satoru wraps an arm around one of your thighs as you stand next to him, and he pockets your grin—knowing it holds all the gratitude in the world, and a little something more.

though, you just end up batting him away when you notice the empty bowl sitting on the tray of your daughter’s high chair.

“she ate all her breakfast?” you ask, peering over to see if he hid any of her yogurt in the pouch of her silicone bib. “why don’t you ever do that for me?”

you lean down to boop a finger on her nose, and she kicks her feet in excitement—letting out something between a squeal and a laugh.

“‘cause you like me better, right?” satoru chimes in, holding his makeshift microphone in front of her with a toothy grin—which gets her to babble, for some reason. “oh? what’s that? i’m the best? your favourite?”

you bring a hand up to flick the back of his head—even though sometimes you think he’s right with the way she’s always smiling at him, but you just chalk it up to his high contrast, baby friendly look instead.

“think you misheard,” you point out, “sounded like ew dad, you stink to me.”

your husband—dramatic, and a sucker for your baby girl, flops down onto her little plastic tray in defeat.

“say it’s not true,” he whines, sneakily tickling one of her feet to get her to laugh but, consequently causing her to smack her hands on his head. “hey, hey!”

“that’s my girl,” you snort, and she babbles some more—loving the attention she’s getting from the two of you.

“hmm?” satoru leans in closer to her, as if she’s about to tell him a secret, and then he shields his mouth with his hand to respond. “yeah i know, i think that smell’s coming from over there too.”

the two smile at each other, and while it might be at your expense, you find yourself smiling too.

because you can see it now—satoru picking your daughter up from her first day of kindergarten, begging for the scoop on all her new classmates. he’d listen attentively, and pry just a little further every time she mentions a more masculine name—selfishly wanting to ensure that he’s still her favourite boy.

it’s just a thought of course, but you’ll definitely be holding him a little closer tonight.

“look, she’s doing it!” satoru pulls you back to the present moment, nudging your leg with his elbow. he’s given your baby her little silicone cup—the one she’s learning to drink from. she has it tilted back, spilling milk half into her mouth, and half into her bib. “kind of.”

once she’s quenched her thirst, she haphazardly tosses the cup onto her tray, and you note the white residue that sits on her top lip.

“well, satoru?” you grin at him, grabbing the long forgotten plastic green spoon—microphone, and holding it up to your husband’s mouth.

he furrows his brows and opens his mouth to speak, but you cut him off.

“how does it feel knowing your daughter has more of a stache right now than you ever will?”

he grins, at you and then her. “that’s my girl.”

#izurou #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #gojo x you #gojo fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader

[angelltheninth]

Manifsting Wriothesley with an absolutely huge, chokeable cock

I'm pretty sure everyone is doing that rn.

Pairing: Wriothesley x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, blowjob, office sex, handcuffs, cum swallowing, size kink, hand kink, size difference, choking, power play

A/N: The moment I saw him I went feral. He has such big dick energy.

Big dick!Wriothesley never brags about his size, he let's you find out about for yourself how huge his cock is. You suspected as much, that he's be proportional in all places but what surprised you was the thickness of it more then anything else. At least three of your fingers. Maybe more once it's fully erect. Good thing you've practiced a lot at home.

Big dick!Wriothesley wants you to use both hands to jerk him off and not stop until they're both covered with sticky, white cum. You can be like his little milking machine, ready to go whenever his cock needs it. Talk about a promotion to a job many want but few have ever gotten. You're one lucky girl, this means he trusts you a lot, that he wants you close to him, the closest.

Big dick!Wriothesley watches as you open your mouth as wide as it goes in order to be able to take him. Maybe doing it like this will b hard for you give his length too. Lay on your back on the couch, let your head dangle off the armrest so he can thrust into the far back of your throat. If you could talk right now he would let you tell him how many times you've thought about this, choking on his big dick, tears spilling down your face, fingers playing with your pussy, knowing he's watching, observing how you seem to prefer it.

Big dick!Wriothesley orders you to sit on his lap with his cock between your thighs while he works. You can use your hand on the tip, you can grind against it but don't you dare put it in. Feeling his hands on your tits from behind makes the whole thing ever harder, you want him to move too, to use those fingers not just to pinch and roll your nipples but to do the same to your clit which has so far only rolled across his dick. And there's a lot of to roll against.

Big dick!Wriothesley takes pictures of himself when he's fresh out of a bath, the towel with a big tent and telling you how he was just jerking off while thinking about you. He didn't finish because he's waiting for you to come over and take care of this big problem for him. He's waiting for you on the couch, cock in hand, ready for you to take a seat on it and not get off until he pushes you off.

Big dick!Wriothesley watches as your pussy gets stretched out by his girth, your bod seemingly perfectly made for him. He knew the moment he saw you that you were a good match. You're not to small for him, not at all, so please don't worry about that. He's gonna make sure you know how much he loves every single inch of your body. Pretty soon he won't be able to get enough if it, you'll replace all his toys. Because you are perfect for him, absolutely perfect.

Big dick!Wriothesley noticed how you look at his arms and hands when he rolls his sleeves, how you carefully trace the veins on his hands just like you do on his cock. He will hold your face while he makes room for him self between your legs and then as soon as he's inside you one of his hands will move to your hip, the other to your neck, pushing enough to keep you still and if you struggle he will make you choke on air, or on his fingers if he feels like fingerfucking your mouth too.

Big dick!Wriothesley will call you into his office, telling you it's really urgent, that he has a big problem he needs taking care of but that's code for him wanting to fuck you. Yes it's a misuse of his power here but if you enjoy this game that you're playing then there's no harm. Besides you're the one who started it, always looking at him like he was to be climbed and ridden. Now you're the one who gets bent over the desk and fucked from behind, the one who gets handcuffed to him so he can pull you against him and not let you escape.

Big dick!Wriothesley always makes you clean up the mess you made on him. You see his big, warm smile every time you look up from his cock and know that he's proud of you for doing good work him. His gentle smile wouldn't make you think he's capable of being rough, you'd think he's a gentle giant and for the most part he can be, but there's a switch that makes him rough, and that switch is you gagging on his cock as you struggle to swallow the last remaining drops of his cum.

Big dick!Wriothesley who is a bit too big to be cockwarmed for long but you're okay with him staying inside you for a bit after you're done having sex. If he stayed too long the constant stretch would get painful and he doesn't want that, that's a pussy he fucks every day, he needs it to be okay, but most of all he needs you to be okay, because you're his precious girlfriend.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #wriothesley x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact headcanons #genshin imagines #genshin headcanons #wriothesley imagines #wriothesley headcanons #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #wriothesley smut #genshin impact x female reader #genshin x female reader #genshin impact x you #genshin x you #x female reader

[pearlywritings]

Dr Ratio nsfw alphabet

tw: female reader, protected sex, edging, body worship, semi-public sex, kinda power play, Veritas is a switch

word count: 3.3k+ words

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He is aware he can go a little harsh sometimes. So the first thing he always does is move you from whatever position you are in into the one where you face him, bringing your foreheads close and making you match your breath with his to calm down. He is usually on a quieter side, but will ask if you need anything specific, different from your usual aftercare routine. Which never goes without taking a bath. He either lets you laze in bed or brings you to the bathroom with him while filling up the tube - depending on how badly he’s exhausted you. Once in the water, he thoroughly washes you, then lets you do the same to him - and it really shows how much he loves you, otherwise he wouldn’t have trusted you with the process of cleaning his body.

After or before the sessions where he is on a more subbing side, he’d really appreciate it if you'd give him a small massage - the man is stressed, even though he doesn’t show it, knowing he will be taken care off, soothes his mind.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Is it a surprise that it is the brain? This man is literally attracted to intelligence. Close second is your lips. It’s astonishing to him how your mouth can both speak out of brilliance and spew out the stupidest nonsense there is. And it’s incredibly satisfying to shut you up with a firm kiss on your lips with his fingers holding your face in place. Or vice versa when you hook your thumbs into the chest window to grab his shirt and drag him closer to smash your lips into his because he talks too much.

On himself… I’d say the brain too. Plus I feel like his arms. He is well-built, and has strong muscular arms - he literally shows off one of them, unclothed. Not to mention the statues he summons - their poses bring attention to the arms immediately. Besides, such physical strength allows him to maneuver your body however he desires, especially when his patience runs thin and words are not enough anymore.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

As much as Veritas doesn’t like messiness, while having sex it’s very hard to avoid. He’s got accustomed to two sweaty bodies held close together (the touch-starved side of him simply won), he even stopped complaining about the sheets that have to be changed every time you end up in bed, but when it comes to cum… 

While railing you he’d prefer finishing in a condom, but with enough convenience and your endurance of him rolling his pretty eyes, he might go raw and finish on your backside/thighs. In oral he’d rather hold back once you bring him close to orgasm and finish after thoroughly fucking you, or, if you are willing, in your mouth.

In your case though, he is more gracious, fully aware that you might not have the same control over your body, just don’t be surprised when after he’s eaten you out or your juices drenched his pelvis from your orgasm, he reaches for a towel to wipe himselfs.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

You know boudoir photography, right? This man thinks bigger. Not even a huge oil painting, no. A statue. A statue that depicts an intimate moment of yours, your intertwined bodies, every curve of the body and fold on the sheets covering some parts of your body carved in marble perfectly… 

He doesn’t bring it up because it might require posing and you might not be ready for this. And because he has a tiiiny fear at the back of his head about expressing openly this side of him that’s reserved for you only. Oh, and maybe because he thinks those intertwined stone bodies of yours might look better with the wedding rings…

Big chance he’ll eventually bring it up.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

If you are his partner and came as far as having sex, it means he is very serious about your relationship and that you are his first. Veritas, most likely, didn’t even entertain the thought of getting into the relationship. But even the brightest minds may face their own miscalculations and here he is, with the best woman, whose body he’ll get to explore. Yes, at the beginning of your relationship he was lacking practice when it came to intimacy, but he is an extremely quick learner with the right theory. His natural observance and phenomenal memory made it easy for him to find and remember all of your erogenous zones (more than you were aware of) and become a master in yet another field.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He has a preference for ones where he gets to claim your lips whenever he wants. He fancies being in control, but doesn’t mind passing the reins to you. Lotus flower and missionary are usually his ways to go for slower times, perfect for closeness and staying in once finished; for the times with more tension in the air, he’d pin you to the wall, completely lifting you off the ground and drilling his dick into your warm walls or would provoke you to push him in his chair and ride that attitude out of him right there in his office.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He is serious, no doubt. More often than not, for him sex is proving a point to you, relieving the tension, getting rid of stress and these things are not to be joked about. If anything, if you were to joke in the middle of it, he’d scoff, giving you an incredulous look, but ultimately decide to shut you up with a kiss or fingers, or shove his spit-covered cock back into your mouth.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Completely clean. He prefers it all shaved off. On a rare occasion you manage to catch a glimpse of his sleeping pants hanging a bit low, revealing a patch of hair he hasn’t yet had an opportunity to get rid of, and you are assured that violet is his hair’s natural color.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

To a man of Veritas’s world perception romance and all these feelings can be explained by science. Yes, he is probably not the man who’d throw rose petals on top of some extremely fancy sheets or won’t declare his love every single thrust of his hips, but one thing is certain - when he is with you, his whole attention is only on you. His eyes are on you, his lips are on you, his hands, his chest, his everything. You are the center of his world in the moment and he expects the same treatment in return.

However, when it comes to taking baths together - either after sex or it being what started sex in the first place - he goes a little extra. There might be some candles to help you both relax, bubbles, nice oils. But also taking care of each other, taking turns with hair, body and everything. Might also read to you in that deep soothing voice of his while you laze with you head on his chest.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Like every healthy man Veritas masturbates. It doesn’t happen often and now there is you, should he need to take the edge off, yet it is the fact. There was a period when you had a hate-tolerable relationship and you managed to drive him so insane with that smart mouth of yours that he felt both repulsed and attracted. And as his hand fisted his hard, leaking cock, he couldn’t push away the fantasies of putting his irritating lovely colleague in place.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Voice kink. Surprisingly, he has it, but only for the sound of your voice specifically. Since he is with you, obviously he mainly enjoys the things you have to say. Then comes the realization that he also enjoys the way you say them. And then, when sex finally becomes a part of your relationship, he can’t help but fuck you a bit harder whenever a particularly delicious moan escapes your parted lips. Plus it sends the blood to his dick whenever you praise him, gently combing your fingers through his hair and whispering into his ear how amazing he is.

Edging. Since this man is a little shit, and sex can be a result of your prior argument, he’d be torturing you with intense stimulation until he sees the telltale signs of your nearing orgasm and stops altogether just to rile you up more. When the tables are turned he performs colossal patience, lying through his greeted teeth that no, he is not annoyed you denied him relief, after all, it’d be unnecessary mess (meanwhile you with your stupid all-knowing smirk gaze at his twitching cock with an angry red tip).

Body worship. During the slower intimate moments Veritas can’t lie to himself that he doesn’t like the way your palms slide over his shoulders and arms, kneading tense muscles. That his breath doesn’t hitch when you kiss the side of his jaw and then trail pecks down his strong neck, and then lower. That his pride doesn’t stir when you have that look in your eyes as you are gazing at his body. Though he might ask tauntingly if your brain stopped working when you stay silent for too long. Won’t blush once you start worshiping him verbally too, but satisfaction will be obvious.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Home, it’s the most comfortable and logical place. Bed, bath, sofa, table - as long as it works, it’s alright. 

But it’s not uncommon to happen in his office at the Intelligentsia Guild. Luckily for both of you, Veritas happened to be very forward-thinking and the room is pretty much soundproof and can’t be unlocked that easily. But then again, not many people would be brave enough to bother him. Sure, it’ll leave you both breathless and messy, but Dr Ratio would grumble about it afterwards, while fixing himself. Right in the moment all his thoughts channel to just one thing - you.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Concentration. I’m not joking - the look of utter concentration and dedication on your face is basically the equivalent of sexy for him. Also then you argue with him. Like a whole oral battle, defending your own opinion on the matter, providing him proofs that back up your point. It just all goes to the moment where the tension is so thick and your mutual stubbornness is making it impossible to bend the scales in either direction, that it becomes dire to resolve it through physical contact.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Won’t harm you. Well, putting some strain on your muscles in one of the positions, or smacking your ass/hip are alright, but nothing that involves heavily beating or cutting you.

Also nothing filthily messy. Like watersports.

Won’t share you with anyone. Yes, no one deserves someone like you, and no, he is not potentially jealous.

And please, for the sake of Nous, don’t call him Doctor or Sir while fucking. He deals with stupid students of his and other people on a daily basis and these titles are associated with very unpleasant encounters to him. He’d rather be called by his name or whatever sappy nickname you came up with for your lover.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Doesn’t have a preference, but would appreciate it if you were the one to take care of him. Would also love it slow, with your tongue lapping at the tip of his length, lips wrapping around the girth and thumb and index finger wrapping around the base, while the fingers of your free hand play with your pussy, stretching yourself for him.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Depends on what sparked the love-making. His thrust can be powerful, precise and deep. He doesn’t need to be fast to prove his point, he can drive you insane with the same stone-like resolve. You can cling and scratch at his back all you want, you can keep moaning and whining underneath or even on top of him - he knows it’ll be his way in any case.

When you are in charge, his response is slower and more sensual, even if it’s just a rhythmic clench of his fingers on your hip. If you are riding him he rarely complains about the pace you decide to proceed with, both leisurely drag of your walls up and down his cock and quick loud smacking of skin to skin have the same finale.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He wants to say he doesn't like them, because the consequences are messy, but… they do happen. He'd blame you for causing it, but, well, if he really didn't want this to happen, he would've put his foot down. Yet he willingly accepted and succumbed to it and now has to do something with his puffy lips and messy hair before his next class starts.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

In the beginning you both experimented to find the middle ground on what your intimate life is most favorable like, he probably has something akin to a list of what kind of sexual intercourse is most efficient for the exact situation in his head.

Quickies in his office are a risk, true, but the amount of precaution taken is amazing. After all, he’d never do anything that would ruin his or your image. Even if he could care less of what those surrounding him have to say, it’s such a headache to resolve the consequences of being caught getting freaky.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He has great stamina, but usually doesn’t go beyond 1, rarely 2 rounds. Why would he exert himself? Instead of additional “exercise” you could spend this time more productively.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Skeptical about them being used on him, but if you own or use any, he wouldn’t mind. After all, sometimes your schedules might not match and you are just one horny human. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Usually it’s not on purpose, he is just an annoying man and his attitude tend to slip into the bedroom, but sometimes it is his intentions to torture you, edging and denying you further pleasure to test your limits (and patience).

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Not very loud. Satisfied sighs, rushed pants and breathy moans. Hums when you do something he particularly likes. Gets louder when he is relaxed and not the one doing all the work, but it also means there will be some Dr Ratio-style teasing remarks and attempts to hold a full ass conversation. You can always just shut him up with a kiss though.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Lone water drops fall from the tips of violet locks, hitting wide shoulders, strong chest and back and running in small trails down to disappear in the plush of the white towel, hanging on chiseled hips. Veritas’s body was truly sculpted by the higher powers, because no man can be this perfect and mouth-watering in image. 

When the man clears his throat, you realize that you are staring at the abs you love so much, with his sleeping pants he asked to pass still clenched in your hands. Your eyes meet his vibrant ones, and with the way his dark eyebrow arches it’s apparent that he’s expecting an explanation, and why would you deny him one?

“You are handsome,” shrugging your shoulders, you speak the truth, finally moving into his direction again. “And I love how enticing you look after a bath.”

“Is that so?” A low hum vibrates in his throat, his expression unchanging and eyes still boring into your frame when he gets a hold on his clothes. “Or are you just horny?”

“Maybe I am, maybe I am not,” you smile, finding the twitch of his lips so funny. “It’s not like you are going to find out. You’ve just taken a bath.”

“There is no harm in taking one more,” a hand is on your waist, fingers crumpling the fabric of your chemise. “But before even assuming that this conversation might take a turn, I would rather have this question answered by you properly. So… Are you horny?”

You think it’s unnecessary to ask again, given the fact that your hard nipples poke through the thin material and thighs are clenched together, and that shiver that ran down your spine when he grabbed you… But Veritas wouldn’t be himself, if he wasn’t like this.

“I am,” you admit, putting your palms onto his pectorals, groping them softly and biting back a laugh at how quickly the slither of repulse appeared and disappeared on his face. “And what are you going to do about it?”

“Should I do anything?” Yet he takes a step back, using the hand holding pants to push the door behind him open; the other hand still laying on your waist makes you take a step too. “It’s not my fault you can’t control your urges.”

“Isn’t it though? It’s you who are making me all hot and bothered,” this time you take the first step forward and he is the one to follow until you both are in the bathroom. “Don’t you think that taking responsibility is the right thing you should do? Come on, love…” your smile turns teasing and voice acquires that taunting lilt that rarely fails to excite him. “Admit you want it too.”

Your lover remains silent, though the pants are tossed onto the vanity and the second hand joins its twin on your waist. He leans down and you catch the dearly familiar scent of his body wash and shampoo, before his head dips and your lips are claimed by his. To shut you up, of course.

Not a minute later your nightwear ends up on the vanity too, soon followed by his towel and your panties.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Around 6.2 inches when erect, quite thick with a nice vein running on the left side, curves to the left a little. Looks as good as the rest of the man.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Isn’t really high, can easily go a couple of weeks without it as long as there is at least some physical contact with you (taking baths together, sitting on the sofa together with your legs thrown over his and his palm resting on your knee, as you both are nose deep in your books/laptops, gentle pat on his elbow when you sense his annoyance, fingers touching as you sleep, etc.)

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Has his own ritual of reading a little before he ultimately goes to sleep. Can stay in one position for long, so he won’t mind if you fall asleep on his shoulder or chest while he is still awake.

If cuddling, he doesn’t have a preference between a big and a small spoon, he can do both. It really depends on the mood and doesn’t happen every night.

Oh, and by the way, it really isn’t uncommon for you to fall asleep on the respective sides of the bed with just your fingers touching in the middle or not having contact at all.

#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #dr ratio x reader #dr ratio x fem!reader #veritas ratio x reader #hsr smut #moonlit pearl stories

[xazse]

(here is your answer for the naga scara x fem or male reader) DO ANY GENDER IDC IM JUST FOAMING AT THE MOUTH RN LIKE A DOG FOR YOUR POST RIGHT NEOWOOWOWOW NEOWOWOWOWO (I would prefer fem reader, but idc about the gender. Just gimme the story bbg) (Also, stay healthy!1 <3)

Notes: I know I have other requests but this was too tempting, thank you so much for the health comment!! I HOPE YALL ARE STILL AROUND!! Btw I’m not sure about Naga Anatomy so his cocks are like hidden in slits/pockets.

Pairings: Naga!Scaramouche x Fem!NaiveReader

Tags: Naive!Reader, 2 Cocks, Scara is kinda creepy but sweetish, fingering, Virgin!Reader, Sheltered!Reader, Fem!Reader, SMUT, NOT PROOFREAD

Naga Scaramouche who is entranced by the sheltered village girl: you, a pretty thing that won’t stray too far into the forest.

Naga Scaramouche whos very patient watching you from the trees, he watches as the short dress you wear rises up just a few inches when you pick a berry too high for you. The tight white panties seem to hug your ass so good.

Naga Scaramouche who can’t wait to have you underneath him, coiled in his tail and in his embrace.

Naga Scaramouche who finally has the opportunity to attempt to speak with you, you had gotten a little lost when you decide your pickings of berries weren’t up to standard, a lost lamb like yourself practically in tears searching every direction to try to remember where home is.

Naga Scaramouche who introduces himself and you’re scared shitless, you’ve only heard of his kind in the stories your mother would tell you to scare you into being good. He’s big, but you can’t deny how pretty he is, his tail is a deep purple hue as well as his pretty mauve long hair that cascades down his back and stops at his lower abdomen, mentioning that, he’s shirtless.

Naga Scaramouche who offers to lead the pretty lamb to safety, warning you that there’s dangers that would do awful things to such a weak thing like yourself. That he does, leading you safely to the outskirts of your village, during the whole walk you can’t stop stealing glances at the beautiful mystery man. He can hear your parents are calling your name with desperate urgency. You look back at him to offer a thank you, but discover he’s gone.

You who comes back a few days later at the spot he had dropped you off at, you bring a cooked rabbit stew as a gift to give to him or at least hope you can give it. a few minutes later you can hear rustling and a voice speaks up: “A gift? For me perhaps?” You face the man once again in all his beauty you nod quickly and he laughs at that.

Exchanges are had over the next few months, with you listening and talking to “Scaramouche” you learn his name is. He seems rather dodgy with questions about himself but wants you to talk about yourself all the time, you have no issues with it, deciding later on he’d become more open.

Scaramouche looks at you weirdly, a look you can’t quite decipher, it’s like he’s looking through you, and you hate that. You hate how weird and tingly it makes you feel, how you feel weird even down there. You don’t have anyone to talk to about this feeling so it’s bottled up and held in.

Scaramouche makes it subtle at first, glancing at you, making sure to make eye contact even though your eyes dart to avoid his, light touches on your arms, thighs, and neck. He knows what he’s doing to you and he doesn’t feel a bit bad about it, he wants to claim you already, his cock can only be contained for so long, it’s getting harder and harder but he feels a few more pushes will bring you right along.

After a whole week you’ve given up, you come to him with all your issues and how confused and foggy you feel around him, you suggest distancing yourself away from him for a little. He hates that idea you can tell by the dark swirl in his eyes, he calms himself and calms you. Putting his hand on the small of your back he whispers lowly on how he’ll help you, help you get rid of all your problems.

You accept of course, as pliant as ever.

He helps you relax on the forest floor, a beautiful light pouring in to emphasize the glow of his gorgeous tail. He starts by asking you to lift your dress, and you listen obediently. Your supple skin now for him to revel in, but it’s not nearly enough. Your panties are on display as well, the thing seems to be squeezing you just like the last pair. Thin fingers grab one of your thighs and lifts it up in the air in your direction, being mindful to watch his sharp fingernails as they clench around the fat.

He uses the palm of his fingertip to trace the outline of your wet cunt, that makes your breath hitch, his fingers are warm or maybe it’s you who’s warm as he continues to trace and examine you. Scaramouche presses on your clit just a little bit, he’s testing the waters. That does bring out a reaction: you clutch your fingers around the fabric of your dress that you still hold.

You feel impatient even though you’re just getting started, new feelings are swirling in your gut when he lays down on his stomach near your pussy. Scaramouche doesn’t want to rid you of your panties just yet, the wet patch in the middle arouses him so much. He pulls them to the side to reveal your glistening cunt: he’s never seen a humans area before not unless they were in books and he did quite a lot of studying on women’s anatomy but having the real thing makes his cock ache, he wants to be buried deep in you but before that he needs to prep you.

Scaramouche licks a long stride up your cunt from bottom to top, a whine leaves your throat at the new feeling of something foreign but not unwanted, based on your reaction he does it again and again till he’s lapping up a good bit of your cum: and god do you taste heavenly, he finds himself completely entranced with licking you over and over, you aren’t fairing any better with the way your hips have started to buck towards more pleasure. Lewd moans keep filling the forest around you paired with Scaramouches loud sucking, he guides his tongue to your clit, licking around it before completely engulfing the sensitive thing in his mouth.

A tightness is forming in your belly, you urge Scaramouche that something happening and maybe he should slow down, he doubles down and both of his hands are holding your thighs up: pinning you in place as he keeps abusing your poor clit. Your whining gets even more pitched up before you spasm and cum on his face. He takes the opportunity to slide a finger inside of your tight hole: it does prove to be difficult but he does fit about a quarter of one in. He starts up the process of stretching you out to accommodate him.

After a while you’re finally ready, but you can only take about half of him or he’s pretty sure you’d start up your crying. You lay staring at his actions with lust ridden eyes: he’s going to ruin you. His long tail grabs you by your waist, lifting you to sit right on where his cocks lays hidden.

He’s really had enough of edging himself, with your full attention he guides your hands to, two slits: intrigued you make a move to press your finger in and he jumps to grab your hand as fast as possible, you make a certain worried face at him and he shakes his head to reassure you. He decides that was a bad idea and takes his cock out himself, he has two but he doesn’t want to spook you straight away, well more than he already has.

He begins stroking himself while you watch, you lean forward: relaxing your hands on either side of his body. You’re thinking how his cock is just as pretty as him. A low groan slips from his lips, hes stroking himself from his balls to his tip: squeezing just a bit every so often.

When he’s done with that he lifts you up till your cunt is hovering over him, he lines himself up and slides in: a loud moan now leaves both your lips, for you it’s the stretch of his thick tip and for him it’s the tight rim he still has to push past. After a good bit he’s now leaned on a rock while holding your body so you don’t hurt yourself and end up having all of him in you, that’s for later.

A rhythm is developed, with him fucking you only last a certain point, your gooey insides feel so good around him, his head falls against the rock but he doesn’t stop lifting and pulling you back down. His head feels heady with need, he’d love to just shove you down all the way. You aren’t fairing any better, already seeming like you were cum again: dazed and dumb that’s how his cock had you.

Scaramouche thinks this feels better than those nights were he’d pump his cock to the thought of doing you like this, the real thing is so much more better obviously.

He speeds up his pace, angling his cock a tad bit deeper. He pulls out and slams back in, he brings you into a tight embrace before he’s cumming, the feeling of something warm also sending you over and you cream around his cock. Afterwards he’s decorating kisses all over your face, cooing at how perfect you are, how good you made him feel and how good you’ll both feel in the future

#genshin smut #genshin x reader #zsworks #fem reader #wanderer smut #wanderer x female reader #naga Scaramouche #naga wanderer #scaramouche x female reader #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #kunikuzushi smut #kunikuzushi x reader

[selarina]

tw angst

I think if Satoru was capable of falling in love during his school days, he’d get married way too early than he should. He’d be 21, getting down on his knees in your block of a college apartment, asking you to spend eternity with him.

It’s a big ask, and your hands tremble, but you say yes. Of course, you do — he’s Gojo Satoru, he’d blink his lashes, his pretty blue eyes peering into your own and ask you to rob a bank and you’d be inclined to agree.

So you get married. It’s nothing too grand, as much as he insisted. You celebrate with a bunch of your friends with dinner at his apartment, which eventually ends with the two of you kissing at the corner of a dingy neon glazed club.

And it’s all sunshines and shots until university ends and then, you get a job you like and he’s taken over his family business as he always expected. You’re both coming home from work to get cooped under a fuzzy blanket. You have a glass in hand as you sip on some chilled wine, and he watches the blue of the sky from your new apartment. And you’re both so happy and in love.

And years pass and things seem the same.

Maybe too much the same and things get tiring, and maybe a bit too predictable.

Lying under the same blanket always ends with you passing out too early. Your head lolling against his sagging shoulder as the blue from your window seems a little too dull, a little less star filled for Satoru's liking.

And soon after, you feel your muscles growing tired too early into the day. You’re still young but you’re so tired, so you find solace in reaching for your bed than his arms.

And frankly, Satoru's tired too. He thinks it would take a special type of person — his wife — to suck the spark from his eyes.

He feels like he’s been trying this for far too long. With the company, with your heart, with your stupid cat — it’s all too much so he’s resigned from work for a bit and he’s designated most of his time to the couch.

He lives in the living room now, more or less — the thought of your bedroom makes him frown. It feels like time has stopped moving in there, with the picture frames — dustless and in tact, and your books sitting right alongside his eyes drops and shades.

He hates the rest of this house too. He does. It’s far too small for him, it always has been. He loved it at first, but then he longed for longer walks from the living room to the kitchen to the bedroom, but that’s just the way you preferred things. That's just how you are. You make him small so he can stand beside you. Maybe that’s a rude thing to say, or even think, but that’s just how he feels sometimes.

Divorce. His father has been suggesting it since the day he took over the company but lately, he's been thinking about it too. He’s thought about it a lot actually, but you're all he's known. It would end him, he thinks. But he’s sure of it... he’s sure he doesn’t love you anymore.

But then there are days. God, there are days. They’re not even special days, just ordinary days where you’re smeared with sweat after work. You barge into the living room, as you often do, loosening your tie as you open up the big window, letting the sharp cold air hit against his skin. You reach for the vinyl player, the one only you use, putting on a random record — usually some form of soft jazz. Then you merely resign to a chair by the window, munching on some Digestives. And he thinks, he’d be a fool to leave this house with you in it.

#loveless marriage with gojo!!!!!! what do we think #i am buzzing with thoughts #jujutsu kaisen drabbles #gojo satoru angst #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk angst #gojo satoru #gojo x reader angst #jjk x reader angst #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen x reader angst