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beskarandblasters · 1 month

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I Want It, I Got It

Sugar Daddy!Joel Miller x F!Reader

Ways to help Palestine

Main Masterlist | Joel Miller Masterlist

Author’s note: Everyone say ✨thank you David✨ (my boyfriend) for this since it’s based off of a personal experience! 🤭 Thank you to @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin for beta reading! 🩷

Summary: Joel gives you unlimited access to his credit card to shop online while he eats you out.

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, no outbreak AU, porn with little plot, no age specified for reader, reader sits on Joel’s lap, established sugar daddy relationship, oral sex (F receiving), fingering, squirting, pet names (angel, baby), no use of y/n

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics Fic recs: @kelbellsficrecs

“Angel?” Joel asks, looking over at you from his armchair.

“What is it?” you ask, glancing up from your book.

He pats his lap, signaling for you to take your rightful place. You place your bookmark and gingerly sit on his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“I have an idea.”

“Okay,” you nod.

“A new way for me to spoil you.”

Your eyes widen as you cock your head to the side, “What is it?”

He reaches for his wallet in his back pocket and hands it to you, his thumb tapping his American Express black card in the top sleeve.

“I give you this and let you order whatever you want while I eat that pretty pussy of yours.”

“Really?” you ask, mouth falling open and eyes lighting up.

“Mhm…” he says, trailing his hand up your thigh, “Bedroom. Now.”

You hop off his lap and walk to the bedroom with Joel following behind. He gives you a firm slap on your ass as you walk, getting a giggle out of you. You shed your t-shirt and sweatpants, tossing them in a pile on the floor but making sure to keep your phone and his wallet. You lie on the bed with your legs spread out as Joel situates himself between your thighs. For some reason, you’re nervous to do this. It’s not like Joel doesn’t spoil you constantly but never like this.

“Get my card out, angel,” he says, wrapping his arms around your thighs.

You slide out his card from the sleeve and run your fingers over the sleek, black metal just as he slowly licks your cunt, catching you by surprise.

“What are you waiting for? Treat yourself, baby.”

“O-Okay,” you breathe, opening the browser on your phone.

The first thing you can think of is lingerie so you search for Victoria’s Secret, scrolling through their endless catalog of bras, slips, babydolls, and garter belts. You stop at a black and red lacey set and turn your phone around to show Joel with shaky hands.

“I was thinking of getting this?”

He stops licking your pussy to look at the screen before chuckling to himself.

“What?” you ask.

“Baby, I don’t care what you get,” he says, lowering his head in front of your cunt again, “I just want you to buy whatever the fuck you want… Okay?”

You nod as he returns to licking your cunt. His tongue expertly flicks around your folds, outlining your entrance before making its way to your clit. You add the set to your cart and type in his credit card details along with your address.

Just as you place the order he pulls an orgasm from you. It’s so intense you have to put your phone and his card down to grip the sheets for purchase. Euphoric bliss washes over you but also a part of you is a little bummed… Is that it? Is he done spoiling you?

You go to prop yourself up on your elbows but his large hand presses gently on your tummy to coax you to lie back down.

“Not done, angel,” he says, lapping your release.

You grab your phone and his card again, shakily searching for the next website you’re going to shop on. An ad you got on Instagram for jewelry crosses your mind. They were selling necklaces with initials on them and you jokingly thought to yourself you’d get a J for Joel. Except now it’s not a joke anymore.

You pull the website up and end up picking out a set– a gold necklace with a J and a necklace that says Angel, Joel’s favorite nickname for you. The J necklace is a shorter length than the Angel necklace so you can wear them together. You’re tempted to show Joel but then you remember he doesn’t care what you buy. He just wants to spoil you.

You order the necklaces as Joel’s mouth latches to your clit. Your vision goes out of focus for a second, the screen looking blurry as your pleasure builds, your second orgasm nearing. Your back arches off the bed and stars dance in your already fuzzy vision. Your moans fill the bedroom and Joel hums into you as you cum. Your pussy clenches around nothing, desperate to be filled already.

As you come down from your high you search for your third purchase, wondering how many you’ll get to make tonight. You type in the website for your favorite online clothing boutique. And now you’re letting loose. You throw in dresses, skirts, pants, shirts, and a few pairs of shoes into the cart. You’re at the point where you don’t even need to look at his card to type in the numbers anymore, it’s all memorized now. This detail doesn’t go unnoticed.

He pulls away and smiles at you, facial hair glistening with your spend.

“You don’t even need to look at my card anymore, do ya?”

“N-No,” you say, chuckling with a shaky breath.

“Don’t stop now,” he says before placing his fingers in his mouth. As his tongue returns to your clit he inserts a finger inside you. You writhe on the bed while his finger presses against your g-spot. Your third orgasm is going to arrive soon if he keeps it up. It doesn’t take long for a second finger to be added, both fingers expertly making a come here motion. With one last swirl of his tongue and the motion of his fingers, you cum again. And this time it’s even wetter than the previous two.

You squirted. Liquid pools on the bed underneath you and runs down your thighs. You put the phone down and look between your legs. Joel’s eyes widen once he realizes what happened. He hums at the taste and amount of wetness you just produced. Your legs are trembling and tears well up on your lash line. You’re spent and if you wanted to cum again you don’t know if you could. Only Joel could make you cum hard three times in a row.

You lie back down on the bed and feel the soreness arise in your core. Joel pulls away and if you thought his face was wet before… Now it’s soaked.

“All done?” he asks playfully.

“All done,” you nod.

“Good job, angel. Such a good girl coming like that for me,” he says, moving from in between your thighs and lying beside you.

You hand him his hard and his wallet back as he pulls you into his chest.

“Now that you know my card number by heart… Order whatever you want whenever you want, angel.”

“...Really?” you ask, pulling away to look at him with a bewildered look.

“Mhm.”

You kiss him and taste yourself on his lips before resting in the crook of his neck. He rubs your back and lulls you to sleep, dreaming about all the packages you’re going to get in the mail.

Dividers by @saradika-graphics 🩷

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x female reader #joel miller #joel miller imagine #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #joel miller pedro pascal #tlou hbo #pedrostories

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scr3amcre4m · 2 years

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Ooh could i have a care package based on Yuri (DDLC)? I like stim toys, pins, t shirts, lotion, eyes, knives, and the color purple. (This is the guy from @selfcare-packages btw)

🍦

hey there!! :o) here ya go

#🍦 || asks #🍦 || request complete #unsure of tumblr tagging etiquette. went ahead and tagged selfcare-packages since u mentioned it #ok. directors cut commentary in the tags #okay you would not believe the amount of lotion i bookmark tbh i was prepared for this one lmao #ohh i also found a really pretty folding pocket knife i wanted to include here but i wasnt sure on that one so! Actual Knife-less #i also saw the knife enamel pin and went BONKERS im gonna get that one for myself at some point too oh my god #i did have a bit of trouble with Eyes but i love a challenge so #i was like poking around and i remembered something that has sooo many eyes and is CREEPY . those biblically accurate angels #adore those things #also ive found in the past when ive put these together that i have strange taste in online shops #...i have standards they're just pretty low #my collages are usually nicer looking on these i just wasnt gonna wrangle my usual editing app into doing that today lol

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hg-aneh · 8 months

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HI!!

so this post of yours got me thinkibg:

And I found a whole entire AMAZING FIC LIKE ITS SO GOOD 👌 where that’s the plot

idk if you can see the link but if not, it’s called Factory Settings on A03 so if your interested please give it a look I BEG

it’s legitimately so good

Oh, I've been reading it, it's currently in my bookmarks actually, and it's pretty lovely

but I thiiiink that fic has Crowley turn back into Twinkliel instead of having them both exist at the same time, which is what my idea was skbfs

I know there's a similar fic to that that was written before s2 came out where Crowley gets split into his demonic and angelic halves (find it here), buuut this isn't what this is either

Think of it as Aziraphale accidentally making a new Twinkliel out of an older record of Crowley in the Book of Life

Like restoring a file

The point here being that they're not the same person, Twinkliel's name was,,, lets say "smudged", and on top of it, Crowley's was written.

Aziraphale tried miracling the "smudge" to combine with Crowley's current name but he ended up separating them and making Twinkiel part 2 electric boogaloo

Crowley's still the same (aka still has memories of his fall and life as an angel) because his current name encompasses those experiences already

If you're an artist you can see this as restoring an older, unfinished version of a piece in paint tool sai whilst still having the finished piece file open in another tab

#sorry for the ramble nnn #im shit at explaining #no one even asked jsbgnsbgks #SORRY DEAR ASKER I HAD TO LET IT OUT SOMEHOW #great fic btw idk how they finished it so darn quickly #aneh answers #aneh wont shut up #Twinkliel

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moonstruckme · 8 months

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poly marauders with a golden retriever + sunshine type s/o? they're energetic and sweet as can be, loves finding random things ( rocks, flowers, knick knacks and trinkets ) to bring back to their boyfriends and physically brighten when they receive praise?

Okay but like I can't picture this without her and James being soooo cute and sunshiney together. Thanks for requesting sweetheart!

poly!marauders x sunshine!reader ♡ 771 words

“Siri!” Sirius looks up as you bound into the common room, James not far behind you. “Do you know how to press flowers?”

“Good morning, my angel,” he says with a saccharine smile. “My day’s going great, how about yours?”

“Sirius.” You’re bouncing on the balls of your feet. “Please, we’re in a hurry.”

He quirks an eyebrow, unsure of how flower pressing can be such urgent business. Though he supposes for you, it very well might be. “I do not.”

You look momentarily disappointed, but then James says, “You know who l bet would know? Pandora.”

You perk right back up, reaching up on your toes to press a smacking kiss to his cheek. “You’re so right, Jamie! Let’s go.” You make to dash off, but Sirius grabs at the hem of your skirt. “Wait just a minute. What’s going on?” he asks, looking between the two of you, both crackling with energy and flushed like you’ve been running everywhere. That’s when he sees that James is fidgeting with something, the object hidden in his palm. “What’ve you got there, Prongs?”

James follows his gaze and grins, opening his hand to display the rock within it proudly. “Y/N found it by the lake and gave it to me. It’s shaped like a heart, see?”

“I do see,” Sirius humors him, though to him it only looks vaguely triangular with a slight dent on one side. “Good find, sweetheart.”

You beam at the praise, whatever business you had with the flowers momentarily forgotten. “I can’t believe no one else had already taken it! It was just sitting there on the shore, so obviously perfect.”

Sirius has to work hard to tamp down his grin. “Obviously. Now, why are we so worried about pressing flowers?”

A pitiful little line appears between your eyebrows. “Filch is digging up all the dandelions outside,” you say, as though it’s a wicked crime for the groundskeeper to do his job. “He says they’re weeds, but they’re so pretty, and he’s killing them! I thought if we could press them then at least Remus could use them as bookmarks.”

“Aw, baby.” The thought of stern-faced Remus doing his studying with a dandelion poking out from between the pages of his textbook is nothing short of delightful. Remus would love it because it was a gift from you, and Sirius would be immensely entertained every time he saw it. “That’s such a good idea.”

“You think?” You do a little hop of excitement, and Sirius swears you could power the school with the sheer wattage of your smile. “Maybe even if Pandora doesn’t know, we can just try anyway. At least some have to work, right?”

“What has to work?” Remus asks, coming up behind you. You whirl, and his hands catch at your hips, stopping you before you can teeter over in your hurry. The two of you are so close together you have to look up at him, and a bit of color comes to your cheeks.

“Nothing,” you say, though you’re unable to suppress a tiny grin. “It’s a surprise.”

You squirm a bit as his amber eyes narrow, but James saves you from further questioning. “We’re just on our way to pick some flowers, wanna come?”

Remus quirks an eyebrow at him. “I hope you don’t mean the dandelions in the courtyard. I just passed Filch with a bucket full of them.”

Your eyes widen in horror. “Shit, we’ve gotta go!” You tear out of Remus’ grip, grabbing James’ hand as you pass and whisking him towards the door.

“Dove,” Remus calls after you.

“Hm?”

“Tie your shoe, please.”

You halt. “Oh, thanks.” You lift your foot, and James lets you use his knee as a steady surface as you hastily retie your undone lace.

“Attagirl.”

You flush, stumbling a bit as you put your foot back down, but you return Remus’ smile before dashing out the door.

Sirius tsks as Remus comes to sit beside him, grinning smugly to himself. “You know exactly what you’re doing when you say that to her.”

Remus shrugs. “No harm in giving our girl credit when it’s due. And don’t act like you don’t do it, too.”

Sirius can’t very well deny that. He scoots into Remus’ lap, reclining against his chest. “Well, you’d better get ready to dish out some more credit soon. She and Prongs have got a gift in store for you.”

“Yeah?” Remus toys with the ends of Sirius’ hair casually, but Sirius can hear the intrigue in his voice. “What’s that?”

“Oh, I’m not telling. You’ll have to wait and see.”

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luxtrys · 10 months

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ani just screams corruption kink i feel so dizzy

AHH U FUCKING GOT ME WITH THIS (added a bit of innocence kink because i can't handle myself) also got carried away like i always do, sue me.

also didn't want to write any p in v because i've already written a first time with anakin fic that knowing me would probably turn out super duper similar to this. it's right here if you're interested!! ♡

pretty baby, best friend!anakin skywalker x reader (18+, smut)

you were panicking. you tried to keep your short uncontrolled breaths at bay as you made your way down the halls of the jedi temple. you nearly tripped over your own feet multiple times, your body carrying you straight to anakin's quarters like you were on autopilot.

you had known anakin since he arrived at your home planet of coruscant when he was nine years old. you were only a year younger than him, but you were always a bit naive and innocent, floaty as anakin would call it, so you always felt like he knew best. like he was in charge and in control.

naturally, you felt like anakin knew your body and your feelings even better than you did. so when you felt odd tingles rise in your downstairs area, you didn't know what was going on in your own body. but you knew only one person you could go to, because after all anakin was your best friend.

you tried to ground yourself as you rested your hand on the door handle to anakin's private chambers, closing your eyes for a moment and breathing in and out in a sequence. you slowly opened his door, peeking in to see ani's shirtless figure on his bed, his eyes glued to the book in front of him.

as you stepped in, his head turned in your direction, a handsome smile gracing his face as he quickly bookmarked his page and made his way over to you. "hi angel, how was your day?" he asked, his heavy aura engulfing you when his arms wrapped fully around your body and he bent down to rest his head on your shoulder.

he quickly rose back up when he didn't feel you hug back, you were always hugging anakin, so something was definitely wrong. guilt washed over his face for not noticing your quivering lip and watery eyes.

"baby, what happened?" he asked, rubbing his thumb on the side of your face to try to offer you any bit of comfort he could give. "hurts ani" you whined, taking your palms and placing them on his chest, trying to push his body away from yours as the contact made your brain even more fuzzy than it already was.

"what hurts? did you trip? did someone do something to you?" he glanced over your whole body for any bruises or visible marks, even going so far as to kneel down slightly to gaze over your thighs because you were almost always falling over. your statement nearly gave him the shivers, the mere thought of something happening to you made anakin go crazy, and you knew that.

"no-no didn't fall." you shook your head, still pushed up softly against the wall in, what to him, looked like clear agony. "angel, you gotta tell me what's going on so i can help you, yeah? can't fix a problem if i don't know what it is"

you were embarrassed, because as innocent as you were, you knew that private parts were private, and you didn't know how he was going to react to sharing information about the feelings in your panties. but as conflicted as you were you needed these tingles to stop.

so you took his wrist, guiding his hand up your thigh and past your skirt, resting it to cup your heat through your panties. he looked up at you in realisation, biting his full bottom lip softly as his eyes narrowed in on you like a predator looking at his prey.

"it-it started yesterday when you came back from training and we were cuddling. i don't know what's happening ani, is there something wrong with me?" he let out a small 'fuck' at your statement, cursing himself for not noticing your state sooner, like the way your thighs were clenched and how you clung to him. even though he had known you for more than half of his life, he had no idea that you didn't know anything about the feelings you were having.

"no baby, there's nothing wrong with you. but you need to trust me if you want me to help you, ok?" he tried to be as soft as he could because he knew if he was too quick or aggressive in any way, you would turn into a pile of tears and embarrassment. you nodded with teary eyes, melting back into his touch and wrapping your hands around his neck.

he took this as the chance to slid his hands on the back of your upper thighs, lifting you up effortlessly as your legs wrapped around his waist. he swiped his thumb across your cheeks, softly wiping the tears that were running down your face, cooing to you to stop crying, and that it was all okay.

anakin placed you softly down on his bed, resting your head on your favourite pillow and kissing your bare midriff as he positioned himself above you. goosebumps trailed your skin as he slowly unzipped your skirt, maintaining eye contact with you the whole time. you couldn't even describe the feelings you were experiencing as you ended up only in panties, socks and anakin's shirt on his bed. in all fairness, you slept like this with him all the time, but with his hands toying with the waistband of your pink underwear, this felt a whole lot different.

"i'm gonna touch you right here princess, is that ok?" he said as he placed his finger right to your heat through the thin cotton on your underwear. it wasn't as though anakin was an unserious person, at all, but right now, you had never seen anakin look so stern in your life. you nodded quickly, ready for him to cure this unsettling feeling in your core. "words baby." he replied to your nodding.

"yes anakin, its ok." you giggled, using his full name to annoy him. it worked. you watched as he pulled your panties off, the cold air making you shiver. after pulling them all the way off your body, he threw your underwear somewhere in the room, too focused on the site in front of him to care.

"can't believe you're letting me do this baby, been dreaming about this pussy for years" he wasn't lying, he had been thinking about what you would taste like, feel like, moan like for years. he always knew you were innocent, and he did a lot to keep it that way, but the way you came to his room, thighs clenched and clueless at these new feelings made his dick strain in his pants.

but he knew you weren't ready for all of him just yet, because not to be obnoxious, but there was no way even a quarter of his cock would fit inside of you without making you scream in pain.

he leaned forward so his head was now between your legs, licking a thick stripe up your folds as you threw your head back in pleasure. he nearly let out a groan at the taste of you, dipping back down into your heat and moving his tongue all around your pussy.

"oh my- ani!" you had never felt a feeling like this ever before, like you were on a constant wave of euphoria that you were never going to come off of. he flicked his tongue on your clit multiple times, watching attentively as he made you putty in his hands.

he continued eating you out for what felt like hours until you were practically sobbing with pleasure. "stop fucking squirming" he spat, placing an iron grip on your waist as you moved below him, seething like you were holding the most desirable thing in the world away from him.

he took the time while he threw your legs over his shoulders to smile at you, his chin and lips practically glistening from your juices, making you whine. "makers, you taste fucking heavenly baby, can't believe you were keeping this from me" he groaned, his tongue now reaching unimaginable places inside of you as you felt even less grounded with your legs stretched over his shoulders.

"ani s-stop! feel like i'm gonna pee" you whined, desperately trying to push his head away from your core as you squirmed in embarrassment. "you're not gonna pee baby, you're gonna cum. that's a good thing yeah? just let go for me." you nodded unsurely, biting your lip as you let go.

you tried to muffle your moans as you felt the most immense feeling of pleasure you have ever experienced, scared you were going to wake the whole jedi temple. anakin flicked his tongue up and down your folds, exploring every inch of your heat as he worked you through your orgasm, wishing he had his camera to capture the look on your face.

"god baby, you're so pretty like this" he sighed, pushing himself up as he hovered above you. he passionately kissed you, letting you taste yourself as you whined. you let your head lull to the side of your pillow, momentarily shutting your eyes and only opening them as you felt anakin wipe a damp towel down your folds. he was smirking at you as you finally looked at him dazed, running his tongue across his bottom lip teasingly.

"can't believe i finally corrupted you pretty baby."

#anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker smut #star wars imagine #anakin skywalker drabble

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2knightt · 11 months

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Hiiii! Can you do the outsiders gang with an s/o who models I feel like that would be interesting :)

↳but i’m into it, i’m into it.₊˚✧

➬ the gang x model!fem!reader

a/n;i love famous reader so much omfg. also, i love using chase atlantic lyrics for my titles. dont chase men, chase atlantic everyone.

Johnny Cade ;

believes that you are the most BEAUTIFUL person to walk the planet.

STRONGLY BELIEVES THAT.

probably thinks you’re too good for him.

PLEASE TELL HIM HE’S ENOUGH FOR YOU.

take him too your shoots and he will be blushing the whole time.

if you wear something that’s flattering to your body shape, he will explode right then and there.

“how do i look? should i fix my hair?”

“you look perfect.”

“you think?”

“…mhm.”

the gang seen you on a magazine cover and started freaking the fuck out.

“HOLY SHIT JOHNNY ISN’T THAT YOUR GIRLFRIEND?”

“WOAHHH!”

“jesus…does she have a sister?”

“guys please stop.”

cuts out your magazine covers/photo shoot pictures and keeps them in his jean jacket pocket.

not in a weird way, just in a way that when he’s sad and you aren’t around he can remind himself on how lucky he can really be.

Dallas Winston ;

oh my god he never shuts up about how he got the hottest model ever.

“yeah she’s pretty n all but, my girlfriends a model so.”

“that’s so cool that your chick is…like that! but mines a model, so, she’s just better.”

buys steals all your magazines/any photo shoot you do.

any guy thats talks about you in way dallas doesn’t like, gets knocked out.

“i’d hit that.”

“yeah?”

“yea—”

dead./j

no but he would pull all his strength in that punch.

the gang thought he kidnapped you because no way in hell a pretty girl like you would go after dallas winston.

“y/n, blink twice if you’re kidnapped.”

“raise your hand if you need help, dude.”

“guys, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

you’re legit, all he thinks about.

he’s so whipped for a model girlfriend, if you asked him to jump he’d ask how high.

genuinely believes you’re an angel, will NOT tell you that to your face though.

Ponyboy Curtis ;

he gets so nervous around you omfg.

his palms be sweating n shit, stuttering and everything.

“he-hey y/n.”

“oh, hey pony!”

uses his favourite photo shoot of yours as a book mark. i can feel it in me bones.

he giggles and kicks his feet when he looks at that bookmark btw

draws you?? i feel like that’s his favourite pass time.

IF HE HAS TO DESCRIBE A STORY IN ENGLISH HE WRITES ABOUT HOW HE MET YOU OMFG AND THE WAY HE’D DESCRIBE YOU IN THE ESSAY??/?!:;&

he’d be so sweet with his words when he talks about you. i cant i love him so much

the gang is lowkey jealous that the youngest one out of all of them pulled a model.

“hey, don’t you model?”

“yeah!”

“what.”

“how did ponyboy get a date with you?”

“…are you guys serious? am i that ugly to you guys?”

Sodapop Curtis ;

POWER COUPLE OH MY GOD I CAN’T.

you guys walking in the street together probably makes people pass out.

literally nobody was shocked that you guys started dating.

the prettiest girl for the prettiest boy, it was bound to happen, c’mon.

he probably got into modeling because of you.

OH MY GOD IMAGINE DOING A PHOTO SHOOT WITH HIM???

he asks for his favourite picture of you two from that shoot to be printed out larger for him so he can hang it in his room.

like dallas, he will punch a guy for you.

“she’s hot.”

“she has a boyfriend.”

“so?”

call 911 cause that guys gonna need it in a minute!

showed steve a picture of you before he introduced you to the gang.

“oh my god soda. why are you dating a literal model?”

“why not?”

“but what else did i expect, you get girls daily.”

Darry Curtis ;

honestly, he couldn’t care less about what you do for work.

if it brings in money, it brings in money.

but the gang sure as hell does!

“YO ISN’T THAT Y/N L/N?!”

“THE MODEL?”

“yeah? how do you guys know her?”

“HOW DO YOU KNOW HER?”

“she’s my girlfriend, soda. that’s why i brought her here.”

“WHAT??”

i’d be lying if i said darry didn’t carry around a head shot of you in his wallet.

he doesn’t brag, but when the chance to talk about you comes, he takes the chance.

“good for her. huh? oh—my girlfriend models. pretty popular.”

when he sees a magazine with you in it for sale, darry snatches it so fast.

compliments you after he seen it.

“i like your most recent shoot, the makeup suits you.”

“you think, darry?”

Steve Randle ;

rocked the whole world when you guys started dating.

DOESN’T SHUT THE FUCK UP ABOUT YOU.

“that’s so tuff soda, but y/n actually said—”

“nobody cares steve.”

“shut up and let me tell you what MY GIRLFRIEND said.”

STEVE HAS A PICTURE OF YOU TAPPED ON THE INSIDE OF THE TOP OF HIS TOOL BOX.

takes you on dates 24/7 just to show you off.

sometimes he lets go of your hand to see if anyone would flirt with you so he can punch them.

gang thought he held you hostage when you started dating ngl.

“you can do so much better, y/n.”

“dallas, shut the fuck up.”

“i’m just sayin’.”

“i will knock you out.”

Two-bit Matthews ;

HE’S SO WHIPPED FOR YOU IT’S DISGUSTING.

you have him giggling n shit.

his room is filled to the brim with photos of you.

not in a weird way, he just thinks you’re drop dead gorgeous.

tells you cheesy pickup lines, all the time.

“are you from Tennessee? cause you’re the only TEN I SEE! get it?”

would start a fan club for you if you asked nice enough.

introducing you to the gang was earth shattering for them.

“how??”

“what do you mean, ‘how?’”

“how did you pull her?”

“I PULLED HER WITH MY GOOD LOOKS AND CHARM, STEVE.”

“you’re so funny, two-bit.”

“like you falling flat on your fucking face yesterday?”

“YOU SAID YOU WOULDN’T TALK ABOUT THAT.”

may 24th, 2023. 11:30PM.

tag-list ;

@diorgirl444, @typereader 🧍‍♂️

#2knightt #the outsiders #the outsiders x reader #dallas winston x reader #dallas x reader #johnny cade x reader #johnny x reader #ponyboy x reader #ponyboy curtis x reader #steve randle x reader #two bit matthews x reader #two-bit x reader #sodapop curtis x reader #sodapop x reader #darry curtis x reader

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nightgoodomens · 5 months

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Imagine Aziraphale spending majority of his time in Heaven gathering every single report written about him and Crowley, all the pictures, all the reports he’s ever written and laughing to himself how he was basically writing poems about Crowley’s beauty and personality, but always ending with “Clearly a terrible Demon” knowing that Angels don’t understand anything about love so it will be enough to throw them off.

One day he sits with Crowley in their cottage, on the fluffy carpet in front of the warm fireplace, going through everything together, fondly remembering their meet ups, chuckling at the outfits, happy they have all the photographs.

Aziraphale creates a hardcover book out of all the reports. He puts the photos in a beautiful album. There is a special place on his bookshelf for memories. And he pats them fondly and goes to meet Crowley by the door where they put their shoes on to go for a walk around the village and create new memories.

Aziraphale has a camera now. He and Crowley take pictures. Happy pictures. Full of joy. Not secret, the two of them anxiously looking behind their back.

Aziraphale loves taking pictures of Crowley. He’s pretty, whether soaking in sunshine, wrapped up in a thick shawl in winter, or surrounded by beautiful colours of autumn. His favourite picture might be of Crowley throwing colourful leaves up in the air and Aziraphale perfectly catching his happy face as they fall around him.

They have a few pictures together. Selfies, even! Grinning at the camera. Happy.

Aziraphale has one picture of them kissing, their cheeks pink from the cold air. He uses it as a bookmark so he can look at it whenever he reads.

Crowley grabs his camera sometimes, especially when they’re travelling and trying new foods. Aziraphale laughs when Crowley shows him pictures of him with a very satisfied happy face as he’s trying new food.

Aziraphale does enough research to know there are cameras now that can take pictures of the space. He gets one for Crowley.

He’s not surprised that Crowley figures out how to use it in moments. He sits on the blanket in the garden as Crowley sets it up and starts taking shots. Aziraphale looks at the beautiful shots of nebulas and stars and he adores them, but Crowley’s face and the tears in his eyes and shaking hands while he talks excited about his creations make Aziraphale look at him more.

God, he loves him.

#good omens #crowley #ineffable fandom #good ineffable omens #ineffable husbands #ineffable boyfriends #ineffable dumbasses #ineffable idiots #ineffable lovers #aziraphale #aziracrow

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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 5 months

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the green in your eyes (makes me feel warm inside) ; megumi fushiguro

synopsis; in the comfort of a familiar bookstore, you find a boy. a pretty boy, who’s always reading, who doesn’t speak unless he has to. you’d like to get to know him — and maybe you will.

word count; 4.6k

contents; megumi fushiguro/reader, gn!reader, fluffy!!, lots of pining from afar, bookstore au, no curses au, reader is an overworked student bc uni is beating my ass, gumi is kind of awkward but hes cute <3, gojo mentioned twice (stay safe), can u tell im excited for christmas … :'3

a/n; bookstore employee gumi who hates every single customer except for you is so real to me

(@riaki its here …🙇‍♂️)

he’s there again.

with a decisive step forward, you drag the door open, and the flutter of a bell resounds throughout the bookstore. a precious little jingle, alerting him of your presence.

the boy at the counter gives you a glance. his navy eyes settle on your bundled up figure, and a flicker of familiarity blooms in the scope of his iris, a kind of recognition. something that makes your heart feel like a clumped up little ball of snow.

(oh. it’s you.

you can almost hear the silent words fall past his lips.)

it only lasts for a second, barely even that, your gazes overlapping — then he’s back to reading.

today, you recognize the book in his hands. the hardcover looks just a tiny bit worn, but still well taken care of. well-loved. and it’s a pretty rendition; a butterfly just above the title, snakes crawling on either side, vines stretching out across the scope of the image. there’s a kind of mystique to it. pretty.

wuthering heights, you read off the cover.

a little odd, in hindsight. you’ve only ever seen him read nonfiction. maybe he decided to broaden his horizons?

after a brief moment’s contemplation, your feet begin to move. taking another small step forward, inching closer, while the door falls shut behind you. blocking out the snowfall and colourful lights illuminating the street.

mitten-clad hands go to brush stray snowflakes off your shoulders, as you shift from foot to foot, halfheartedly attempting to warm up your numbed toes. wallowing in the atmosphere of the cozy little bookstore; breathing in the smell of peppermint, the hint of freshly brewed coffee. from the boy, you assume — he’s got his usual mug on standby, a cute little black dog etched into the ceramic. steam rises from it, floating up into the air, and a fragrance of espresso wafts throughout the store.

low christmas music plays from the speakers, barely audible. pleasing to your sensitive ears and tired mind. it’s the usual mix of well-loved songs, for the most part, but then some you haven’t heard before. you can only assume he picked them out himself; pretty instrumentals, or low, gravelly voices, adding to that particular atmosphere simmering around you. nostalgic, a little melancholic.

the boy behind the counter looks angelic.

he always does, when he’s reading — and he usually is. gentle, in the way he turns the pages, awfully delicate, keeping them still between his thumb and forefinger. lips pursed, brows just a tiny bit furrowed. concentrated, immersed. dark eyes trailing over the tiny letters, scanning the ink of the paper, twisting the syllables inside his mind. almost tasting them on his tongue, with the way he wets his lips. they look a little chapped.

for some reason, the sight seems to render you sort of speechless. frozen. like he’s a pretty bluebird seated on your windowsill, chirping softly in the wake of morning, and you’re afraid of scaring him away.

— his eyes meet yours, and you visibly stiffen.

it’s smooth, the motion of his hands. how swiftly he flicks the book shut, placing it face down on the counter with a twitch of his lithe fingers. not before slipping a pretty bookmark in between the pages, lilac-coloured, with flowers embroidered into the silky texture. you wonder if he made it himself.

his voice spills out into the air, a little raspy. deep, but velvety, sending shivers down your spine. he clears his throat, and you watch his adam’s apple bob. ”do you need anything?”

a second passes.

it catches you off guard, the mellow sound of his voice. when you’re so unaccustomed to hearing it. excluding the brief words you’ve exchanged paying for your novels, you’ve only heard it a select few times — mostly from afar, not-so-sneakily listening in on his conversations with the pink haired boy and pretty girl who sometimes come in and never look at any of the books.

(there’s the tall guy with the not-so-seasonal sunglasses, too. but when he enters the store, all you pick up on are usually grumbles and threatening hand gestures.)

but now, that low, low voice is directed at you.

it can’t be good for your physical health. or mental, for that matter. you’re not sure you remember to properly breathe, and you’re almost certain hearts aren’t supposed to flail the way yours is right now.

when the boy behind the counter tilts his head, just by a hair, you’re finally snapped out of your little trance. stumbling for something to say, stuttering out a response, your hands grip at the insides of your pockets.

”well, um — i’m looking for a book.”

a moment passes. the song coming from the speakers changes into an instrumental, kind of jazzy. it’s nice.

”… a specific book,” you elaborate, under your breath. gnawing at your bottom lip, feeling a bit of heat on your ears. clearing your throat, as you step forward, tearing your mittens off with your teeth.

searching for a certain image, your numbed fingertips begin to tap at the cold screen of your phone. the warm air of the bookstore envelops your chilled knuckles, and a shiver runs through them.

the boy watches, silently, as you get closer.

you don’t notice him glancing at your reddened hands, and when you look up to see a glimmer of something displeased in his eyes, you only assume it’s because you’re taking too long. speeding up slightly, you hear a low click of his tongue. his back straightens.

when he gets up from his chair, you notice that he's tall. you don’t think you’ve ever seen him do anything but sit behind the counter with a book in hand, either reading his own or scanning a customer’s.

and, upon closer inspection — he’s maybe just a little bit too pretty for words. smooth, pale skin, a sharp jaw and defined cheekbones, dark eyes that hide a subtle kind of softness. pierced ears, a glimmer of silver on his earlobes, same as the rings on his bony fingers. his nails are painted black, a little chipped. and he’s wearing a big, bright green christmas sweater; one you really can’t imagine him picking out on his own, if his previous all-black turtlenecks and gray sweaters are anything to go by.

while you fumble with the phone in your grasp, the pads of his fingers go to silently tap at the edge of the counter. a rhythmic motion; forefinger, middle finger, ring finger, over and over again.

it’s a little bit distracting. when he moves his hand a certain way, his big sweater sleeve rides up just a tiny bit, showing off the blue veins of his inner wrist. you think you catch a glimpse of a mole or two on his pale skin, and you swallow down a gulp, feeling a little like a victorian man seeing a girl’s ankle.

and then finally, you locate the image in question. swiftly showing him the cover of the book you were assigned to read. he squints a little, blinking drowsily, a flutter of his pretty eyelashes that has your heart skipping a beat.

you clear your throat.

”i’m supposed to read it before christmas break, but i couldn’t find it at our library…” you tilt your head, a little sheepish. ”do you have it here?”

he stares at the screen for just a second more. then he’s angling his head to the left, finger pointing towards a corner of the store. ”it should be over there,” he hums. monotone.

a tentative smile forms on your lips. you thank him, and his eyes find yours.

all he does is shake his head, softly, brushing you off — a silent don’t worry about it. maybe a tad gruff, but you sense an acute gentleness to it. something tender, kind of. or maybe you’d just like to believe the kindness you sense in his eyes is real, more than just a delusion.

but you don’t have time to dwell on it. the boy behind the counter goes back to reading, cradling the spine with his pretty hands. when he tries to grab the handle of his mug, one of the rings on his fingers knock against the ceramic, and he clicks his tongue in annoyance.

you go to hunt down your own book, still thinking about his voice, how it trickled like honey from out his lips.

the bookstore is entirely empty, tonight. no loud noises drilling into your groggy brain, no people to chatter amongst themselves and disrupt the illusion of peace you gain when you spend time here. a tiny respite, from your studies, from the stress and fatigue that you’ve come to associate with winter. hunting for christmas gifts, finishing late assignments, trudging through the snow. pretending that you have it all together.

but here, none of that matters.

a sense of calm washes over you, as your eyes trail over the books by the science fiction section, and a soft sigh tumbles from your throat. gradually, your hands begin to warm up, and you look out the window.

outside, the world is blanketed by a veil of snow and frost, pure whites and murky grays as far as the eye can see. falling down to earth, smothering everything in a bitter chill. a cold, cold embrace. but when looking at it like this, from inside a cozy bookstore, with a pretty boy by the counter…

it's a breathtaking sight.

little snowflakes descending, dancing in the wind. desaturating your world. if you close your eyes and focus, you think you can almost feel the wind nip at your fingertips, almost taste the fragrance of dried tea leaves and caramel fudge from the tiny shop across the street. almost bask in the green and red of the decorative lights in the skeletal trees, illuminating the city, buzzing with artificial warmth.

(your heart feels light.)

it doesn’t take long for you to find the book you need. keeping it safe and warm between your arm and torso, you walk back to the counter, gaze still lingering on the windowpane. the little snowflakes fluttering about, the glimpses you catch of passerby and their knit scarves in the darkness of the winter evening.

the boy behind the counter is as efficient as ever. he takes the book, fingertips resting exactly where yours just were, and scans it in a matter of seconds. you pay, and he puts it in a plastic bag, handing it to you — all while his copy of wuthering heights sits on the counter, pointedly, as if beckoning you to mention it.

before you can think to stop yourself, you’ve parted your lips.

”is it good?” you ask. finger pointing at his book.

the boy blinks. eyelashes fluttering. once, then twice. he seems a little caught off guard, but still speaks within a split second. almost like he doesn’t even think about the answer. ”yeah.”

a hum buzzes in your throat. you shift a little, from foot to foot, plastic bag in hand. ”i’ve been meaning to read it,” you say, desperate to prolong the conversation, ”but i haven't had much time lately.”

a chuckle slips from your lips. it comes out sounding just a little exhausted.

(he glances at the dark bags beneath your eyes, but you don’t notice.)

”i think i might buy it in time for christmas break, though…” you lift your gaze to meet his own. showing the briefest glimpse of a smile, polite.

he doesn’t return it. lips pursed, silent, gazing at you with slightly lidded eyes. a navy blue, little splotches of a murky green blooming in the corners of his iris. they only appear when you’re this close. soothing, somehow. they’re pretty.

he isn’t saying anything, not a single word, and some part of your heart clogs up like a clump of wet snow. subconsciously, you trap your bottom lip between your teeth, digging into the soft flesh before letting go. cowering a little under his intense gaze.

did you annoy him?

(he probably doesn’t want to talk to you. maybe he thinks you’re hitting on him, or something. are you hitting on him? that doesn’t matter. he must be stressed — it’s holiday season, after all. the last thing he needs is some annoying customer taking up his precious reading time.

gosh, what were you even thinking?)

you’re just about to excuse yourself, mentally berating yourself for forcibly striking up a conversation with an obvious introvert —

when the sound of something sliding against wooden material catches your attention.

you blink.

the boy behind the counter does a little cough. under his breath, clearing his throat. he wets his lips, in what you immediately recognize as nervosity — absentmindedly fidgeting with the rings on his fingers.

”here.”

when you look down, a certain book is placed on the edge of the counter, right in front of you. wuthering heights.

another blink. you look down at the hardcover, and then back up at him, but he’s not meeting your gaze. if you look closely, you think you see a slight flush to his neck, red like a candy cane.

”you can borrow it,” he says. a pause. then he continues, clearing his throat again, a hint of hesitance in his raspy voice. ”… if you want to, i mean.”

”… ah.” is all you can answer. barely a word, more of a weak little hum. an absent tremble of your voice.

outside the comfort and warmth of the bookstore, the wind whistles, digging its claws into the city. tiny whirlwinds of snowflakes dance from street to street, fluttering about joyously. you vaguely pick up on the song from the speakers changing, into a poppy christmas-themed kpop song.

a moment passes.

your muddled mind finally reacts. on instinct, sending little instructions to your frozen limbs. to your heart, face down on the floor, completely useless.

”oh — no, there’s no need!” you blurt out, putting your hands up hastily. waving him off. ”it’s fine, i can just buy my own copy!”

but the boy only clicks his tongue, with that signature furrow of his brows. ”you’re a student,” he states, just a little gruff. but then there’s that kindness. ”you shouldn’t waste your money.”

you’re just about to protest, when he continues. ”besides,” he sighs. ”i’ve already read it. you can just bring it back whenever you’re done.”

and again, your instinctual desire is to protest. unsure of what to say, somehow exasperated by his trust. that’s what it is, isn’t it? trust. trusting a stranger, a customer he’s barely even spoken to, not to just take his book and then never return. trusting you to be a decent person. a good person.

isn’t that naive?

something sprouts like a snowdrop in a ridge between your ribs, though, and you know that it’s happiness of some kind. you’re glad, that he has something even vaguely similar to trust in you.

glad that he’s acknowledging you, in a way. your presence, the sneaky glances shared between you. the comfortable feeling that sleeps inside your veins when it's just you and him, silently passing each other by, in a quiet bookstore that feels a little like heaven on earth. a safe haven, of sorts, with no incompetent professors, tight deadlines or numb fingers.

it’s just him, and cozy christmas music, and a pitter patter rhythm of your heartbeat that sounds a little like jingle bells to your muddled mind.

a lump forms in the back of your throat. you gulp it back down, and part your lips. an unsure question spills into the open air.

”are… you really sure?”

”yeah.” he doesn’t even skip a beat. fingers tapping at the edge of the counter, over and over again. another slow moment passes. ”we can… talk. about it.” he coughs into his closed fist. ”once you've read it.”

with a soft furrow of his brows, he averts his gaze. his voice comes out sounding soft, albeit a little rough around the edges. ”if you want,” he adds.

you’re so distracted by the flutter of his long eyelashes that you barely even feel your lips stretch into a smile. your hearts skips around happily within the confines of your ribcage, and you’re worried that you might look a little too excited — but how could you ever hide your joy, when he’s acting so dangerously, uncharacteristically cute?

”yeah!” you blurt, teeth peeking out when you flash him a bright smile. and finally, he meets your gaze. pretty eyes fixed entirely on you.

at your evident enthusiasm, his shoulders seem to relax. the rapid tapping of his fingers ceases, and he opts to simply bite down on his lip — attempting to obscure his own smile. but you see it, anyway; a tiny, tiny smile. the softest little curl of his lips. you’re entirely mesmerized, all the same.

a hand goes to rub at the back of his neck, and he does that cute little cough again, and you wonder if the warmth sprouting in your chest will be enough to protect you from the snowfall on your way back home.

angelic; that’s the impression he always seems to leave you with. you wonder if he has any idea just how pretty he is. if he has the slightest clue. you wonder if you’ll ever be able to tell him, yourself.

you wonder if you’ll get to know him, someday. if you’ll ever get to know the pretty, quiet boy behind the counter of your go-to bookstore, who radiates a softness so palpable you wish you could stay there until spring blooms beyond the windows and melts the frosted glass.

with tentative hands, a little shaky — not from the cold, but the anxious and excited tingle of your bloodstream — you reach for the book on the counter. taking it into your arms, cradling it gently, like it’s so fragile the pages could scatter away if you aren’t careful. with a steady hand on its spine, you begin to flip through the pages, until three little words on the first blank page catch your attention.

without thinking, you repeat the little scribbled down sentence under your breath. hoping for something. more lulls of his voice, maybe, mumbling to yourself but hoping he’ll hear.

”happy birthday, tsumiki…”

the boy stiffens.

a silent beat. then he clears his throat. ”my sister,” he explains, and you hum.

so he has a sister. a tiny fragment of his existence, now known to you, a little piece of trivia. you want to collect them, want to put them all in your pockets and carry them around, like little precious bells.

”megumi,” he blurts out, sudden, and you look up from the book to meet his gaze. ”my name,” he elaborates. and then a pause. ”i work here.”

…

in a matter of seconds, his face reddens. ears and neck slathered over with that sweet cherry hue, blooming across his pale skin. a soft giggle slips from your lips, before you can think to bite it back, and that red hue exacerbates.

”mm,” you hum, an amused smile on your face. eyes crinkling as you look at him, book safe and secure in your arms. ”i've seen you.”

megumi looks a bit like he wants the ground to swallow him whole. squirming slightly, shifting from foot to foot, tugging a little at the sleeve of his sweater. looking into your eyes, and then back at the counter.

it’s sweet. it makes you feel closer to him, somehow. like you aren’t the only nervous one here. like you aren’t the only person in this city who’s a little bit of a mess.

(it makes the sludge piling up inside your brain feel just a little more bearable.)

”… thank you.” you smile. ”i’ll take good care of it. and i’ll bring it right back when i finish it.”

a low hum. megumi brings a hand up to fix his bangs, nimble fingers running through dark locks. absentminded — a nervous habit, maybe? ”don’t worry about it,” is all he says.

again, that sweet dichotomy; a hint of something gruff, hiding an unmistakable softness. a little like snow. cold to the touch, enough to make you want to stay away, but then it melts on the skin of your palm. turns soft and warm beneath your touch.

unable to fully hide the smile still lingering on your lips, you allow yourself one final inhale — letting that scent of peppermint and espresso invade your mind, soothing every frazzled nerve inside your brain. then you put wuthering heights in your bag, protected and snug, and get ready to leave.

it’s still snowing. if anything, it seems to have gotten worse, enough that all you see when you glance towards the frosted windows are little clumps of snowflakes. obscuring everything else.

just when you’re about to speak, say a little goodbye, a voice spills out into the air.

”… the snow’s supposed to get worse. apparently.”

his navy eyes carry a gentle hue, as they look into yours. maybe a little worried, like a protective mother wolf towards her cub. you blink, and megumi sees it as his cue to continue.

”you can stay until it gets better.”

a brief pause. his signature cough reaches your ears, and it’s enough to have you smiling, even before he adds a tiny if you feel like it. nonchalant, or at least you think that’s what he’s going for. he mostly just sounds like an awfully caring person trying awfully hard to appear uncaring.

and again, a little smile slips itself into the curl of your lips. all giddy and nervous, a little flustered. but happy. now you won’t have to walk through the relentless snowfall outside, feel the wind chew at your reddened cheekbones. now you can spend just a bit more time with him, bask in those quiet, drawn out moments of pure peace, browsing through books while he sits and reads behind the counter.

”thanks,” you breathe. adjusting your knitted scarf. ”i think i'll look at the books a little more, then.”

megumi’s eyes soften. relieved, you think. hope. it’s a subtle shift, but still enough to notice, enough to see. little splotches of a mossy green sinking into that sea of ink blue.

you think he must feel a little embarrassed, though. like he’s gotten too close to broaching the line he’s set up between the two of you. because he quickly fixes his gaze entirely on a book in his hands, a new one — was it just waiting beneath the counter?

you don't think much of it, but you note that he's back to his usual nonfiction. something on astronomy, you think.

and with one final glance at his tousled hair, you begin to stroll through the store. languidly, walking to whatever spine captures your attention. savouring the tiny words on the back of the books, wallowing in the peppermint and espresso that wafts through the air, only growing heavier while you’re busy admiring the white opaque frosting of the windows’ glass.

at some point, the low whirring of a coffee machine buzzes from afar, and when you turn to the counter megumi isn’t there.

a little later, when he comes back, he’ll be carrying two mugs — matching dogs etched into the ceramic, one black and one white. he’ll put one of them on the edge of the counter, closest to you, and then meet your eyes. give a vague nod towards it, but nothing else. you’ll notice the red tint to his ears, though.

and when you do, a warmth will blossom in your chest, enough to chase away the phantom ache of the winter chill soon to envelop you.

when the little bell of the bookstore jingles its jolly tune, and the door shuts itself as you cross the threshold to leave, megumi lets out a barely audible sigh.

he thinks his heart may be beating just a smidge faster than usual, a little out of rhythm. palms against the counter, he allows his eyes to flutter shut — trying not to acknowledge the heat he feels on his face when he finally begins to process your interaction.

he smooths a hand over his face, skin just a little sweaty. chewing at his bottom lip with two sharp teeth.

god.

really, it was no more than a stupid twist of luck. that you happened to come in just when he started reading it, that you noticed and didn’t question him on any of the contents. that you believed him when he said he’d already finished it.

and, sure, maybe he was secretly really hoping you’d come in. really hoping you’d notice it, that it’d be enough to make you strike up a conversation with him, something, anything.

he happened to see you eyeing it once, that’s all. twice, and then thrice, each on different occasions. tsumiki’s old collection came in handy, rotting on the dusty shelves of her room — although he has no memory of her ever reading it.

(he remembers some, though. remembers her reading a few of them to him, on nights he couldn’t sleep. remembers the soft lull of her voice, how the whole world seemed blanketed by a wool of safety.

he wonders if he’ll ever get to hear it again.)

megumi’s heart feels warm. despite everything.

even though he didn’t even get past the first half of wuthering heights, and has no idea what the hell he’s going to be able to talk to you about. even though he thinks heathcliff is a dick and catherine is a brat, and wishes they could save everyone else the trouble and just talk to a psychiatrist.

even with the cold baring its fangs outside, and the cup of espresso sitting right in front of him, still untouched, made with the store’s shitty coffee machine. even in the ugly sweater gojo forced him into. even though he doesn’t even really know you, not even at all, and still somehow feels certain that you’ll come back with tsumiki’s book in tow.

trust.

megumi thinks it’s a little weird, how just that single overlapping of your gazes when you first stepped in seemed to solidify such an abstract notion. he’s always had a sense of it, though — a sense of goodness. an ability to seek them out, those good people, bubbly and cheerful and so tragically hard not to love.

no matter where he goes, he ends up finding them. like tiny sunflower seeds persisting beneath the winter snow. blooming when spring comes around, in a burst of golden vermillion.

resting his jaw on the heel of his palm, megumi allows himself to wallow in the solitude of the bookstore. tired eyes soaking up the words on the pages he flips through, slowly, utterly at ease. drinking his shitty coffee, trying to ignore the itchy feeling of the sweater on his skin, unable to forget the memory of your stupidly pretty smile.

so pretty he thinks it might just keep him warm, all throughout winter, until you return once more. bringing with you the glimmer of snowflakes on soft skin, and a pleasant fragrance of tea leaves from the cozy shop across the street.

a single sunflower, persisting even through the cold.

megumi smiles. a tiny curl of his chapped lips, while he flips the pages of his book. content in the knowledge that this won’t be the last time he speaks to you.

(now he just needs to read up on some good papers on wuthering heights.)

#im just thinking abt ….. bookstore gumi who goes out of his way to only work the quiet lazy shifts . and all he does is drink coffee n read #so its like his selfcare time and he hates customers n gets annoyed when they come in PHDJD…. acting like he owns the store #but then u come in !! :< n ur presence is just so gentle and soothing . n the more he sees you the prettier u get in his eyes.#so he tries to silently impress u </3 reading ur fave books even if he doesnt like them <//3 cutie #just to be clear if a bookstore employee randomly offers u a cup of coffee Do Not drink it . even if hes hot. stay safe ✌️#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #megumi x reader #megumi x you #megumi fluff #megumi fushiguro #megumi x y/n #megumi fushiguro x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x gender neutral reader

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lanadelreyscokewhor3 · 1 year

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PREACHERS DAUGHTER- P.B PARKER

Pairing: Best Friend! Peter x Fem! Reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: you and peter were complete opposites, you the goodie two shoes preachers daughter, him the bad boy next door. yet fate has pulled the two of you together, and you can’t help but feel a certain lust for him.

Warnings: ORAL (fem), teasing, kissing, marking, pet names, best friends falling in luvvv, swearing, weed involved, booze mentioned, praise kink, masturabtion mentioned, lotsss of dirty talk, peter blowing smoke into reader mouth

based of the album- preachers daughter, by ethel cain

It was mesmerizing- the way his fingers moved.

You felt as if you were under a trance, the watch on the chain swinging back in forth in front of your eyes, hypnotizing you.

His rings, silver and shining in the pale moonlight the clock hands, the veins that ran up his wrists acted as the numbers that blurred together after some time.

Each component drew you in as his fingers strummed each string, moving up and down the fingerboard to play each chord, a sweet melody emerging from the instrument.

Your mind was far, far off from the homework you swore to yourself you would be doing tonight, despite having your best friend over. You knew you couldn't focus on anything but him, yet you let him slip through your window, with the cracked and peeling paint you refused to paint over- because you and Peter were the reason for its damage.

You refused to change anything he had touched or wrecked, whether that be the broken dresser handle that was hanging on for dear life, or the jumble of photos the two of you had pasted on your walls while drunk out of your minds.

They looked awful, all crooked and cluttered to fuck, but you didn’t touch them.

Refused to. If Peter placed them there, that's where they stayed.

You looked up at them now, gaze focusing on the smiling faces that stared back at you, that watched over your every move- in a comforting sense. Their presence lingered, as you peered back over to Peter, following the sound of strum from the strings, the sound coming to a screeching halt as he suddenly fished for something in his ripped jean pocket.

He was so beautiful when he was concentrated.

The subtlety bite of his lip, pearly whites tugging on the flesh with a sense of urgency as his jaw would clench. The way his messy, slightly ruffled russet hair would fall in front of his eyes, rings glimmering as he slid his hand through the locks to push it back into place.

You wanted to run your fingers through his hair, wanted to tug on them to make him hiss in pleasure, the way he did the one night he had decided to use your thighs as a pillow. Peter's reaction was tenuous, a slight growl escaping from the cage of his clenched teeth.

You noticed, though. You always noticed, when it came to him.

“Bunny? You want one?” he asked softly, pre-rolled in blunt twirling between his large fingers, making you stare in awe.

“Bun?”

Oh shit, you were staring.

“N-no Pete it’s okay. I’m good for now.” you smiled, a heat rising to your cheeks as you forced yourself to stare back down at your tattered notebook filled with scribbles and numbers you had no clue what to do with.

It was better than looking at his fingers and getting caught again.

Anything was.

“Alright pretty but you let me know if you want one okay? Your asshole of a father won't find out, if that's what you're worried about.” he chuckled softly, throwing you a wink as he toyed with the drug, a cat with its dinner.

Of course that's what you were worried about. You were the minister's daughter, a holy saint if there ever was one. The good girl, your father's little angel.

We have a reputation to uphold Y/L/N. Don't mess it up, or there'll be consequences. Big ones.

You had followed his words as he did with passages in that dog-eared bible of his, the rosemary beads sprawled out as a bookmark for his pages.

So, how in the world did Peter Parker- the boy wrapped in sin your father warned you about, end up as your best friend, the man you trusted with your life? You didn't know, but you were thankful for it.

It made you laugh every time Peter offered you a smoke, he knew your answer had never changed, yet he always offered anyways. He was sweet that way. It was different with weed, you supposed.

You were always terrified your father would be able to see right through you, be able to sniff the drugs on you like a hound dog. You made excuses for booze.

Your father provided red wine during Sunday services, the blood of the lord for all to taste, cannibalism in its cleanest, purest form. Counting on two hands the number of times you and Peter had snuck into the old, gothic church your father managed, getting drunk off the wine in the wooden pews under the stained glass windows was impossible.

You watched as Peter leaned his guitar against the windowsill, grabbing a lighter from his other pocket, the snake tattoos curled and wrapped along his finger seeming to hiss at you in the dim light of your room.

“Peter?” you called, making his head snap up, the fire from his light diminishing as fast as it came. “C-can I light it for you?” you asked shyly, watching as that boyish grin that you loved so much came to his face, dimples appearing as he took you in, realizing you were serious.

“You wanna be an angel and help me out eh?” he teased, making you nod frantically.

Angel.

The words alone had your toes curling in your thigh-high socks you knew Peter adored, his fingers always seeming to toy with the little black bows whenever he got the chance. He towered over you even more than he already did as he stood, making his way over to where your body was lounging on the ruffled white sheets.

“Dad’s not home ya know. I forgot about that.” you tugged on your inner cheek, watching as Peter dropped to his knees before you, like a devil about to spread its wings.

Begging for mercy before you.

“Does that mean you do wanna hit then?” he asked, blunt between his teeth as your thumb flicked the flame to life, watching the blues and oranges crackle as you lit his joint.

“Don’t know how.” you shrugged, watching as he exhaled, the sweet sickly smell of weed filling your senses as he exhaled.

“We can try something if you want bunny. D’trust me?” You nodded, eager to obey his commands. He smiled, rings cold against your chin as he grabbed it lightly, the pads of his fingers slightly calloused from the strings.

“Say ahh bunny.” You opened your mouth widely, the smoke he had inhaled floating into your mouth as he exhaled, fogging up your lungs. He was so close you could hear the thud of his heartbeat, could feel the soft heat rolling off him in waves to soothe you in a gentle embrace.

“Atta girl!” he laughed as you felt the sticky taste coat the back of your throat, mouth turning dry as the Saraha.

“Peter this tastes like shit.” you groaned, coughing and sputtering as he gently slapped your arm. “No swearing. Or else I’ll wash your mouth out with soap.” he teased, making you burst out in laughter as he rolled onto the bed, smooshing your lower half with his bodyweight- making you groan as his head lolled.

You felt your skin warm to the touch with how close he was to you, your legs parted slightly so he could wedge his way between them and rest on you.

“I gotta do my homework silly.” you smiled as he took another puff, his eyes turning a fair shade of red as he watched the smoke slither upwards.

“I can be your study buddy if ya want.”

“I’d get no work done if you were my study buddy. You distract me too much.” you teased, giggling as his hand reached over to tickle your thigh gently. “We’d make such a great team. We could be on the mathletes together bunny.”

You rolled your eyes at his sly commentary, a hand slipping through the soft, messy tumbles of his hair as he sighed in happiness. Nails began to scratch his scalp soothingly, and his chest began to rumble- purring like a cat as you tended to him.

Just as you wanted.

The curtains rustled in the breeze that snaked through the cracked window goosebumps appearing on your bare skin as the papes blew. You looked out through the glass, scoping out the graves that surrounded your house.

You could map out the entire cemetery as you had lived in this old, creaking house your entire life- could picture every little twisted path and old rusting benches that were scattered. It was peaceful here, the only real company consisted of the ghosts and Peter when he came over to visit.

Your father was never really present, too busy with the works of the church than his own flesh and blood.

It was an easy silence between the two of you, one you enjoyed immensely. It was different than the other silences you had dealt with in your lifetime- long and uncomfortable. With Peter, they were pleasant and easy, a place where you could be in your own thoughts and not feel bad about it.

You were lost in them now, as you looked down at him.

He’s never looked so beautiful. How did I get so lucky- to score him as my best friend?

Continuing your head scratches, you let your head lull against the headboard, closing your eyes to tune out the world. He continued to smoke, hand resting on your thigh with each inhale.

“You got somewhere I can put this angel?” he asked, hand waving as he gestured to the stump of the blunt, the weed diminishing. You hadn't realized how much time had passed, the hands on the clock hoping forward since the last time you had looked over at them.

“Over there is fine.” you pointed to the little dish on the dresser you had left for him whenever he was over, degrading it whenever your father returned home.

You didn't comment on how much Peter had smoked, just as you didn't comment on how much whisky your father drank whenever he got mad.

You didn't care enough.

He shuffled up, puffing the remainder towards you, the smoke cascading around your cheeks, tickling your eyelashes as the old bed creaked.

“You’re such a doll, you know that?” You smiled.

“Maybe. It's not like you tell me allll the time or anything.” you teased, poking fun at how sweet he was to you. No one was as ever kind to you as Peter was. It made your insides tingle, made your skin all sensitive to the touch.

He smiled that cheeky grin that drove you wild, tapping the ash into the dish before he crushed it with his fingers, rings glittering in the soft candlelight. Your homework was long forgotten at this point, your attention solely focused on the beautiful angel of a man that stood before you at the foot of your bed.

“Hi.” you waved to him, his hand raising to wave back from across the room.

“Hi bunny.”

“Cmere.” you insisted, and he smirked as he crawled onto the bed, the look in his eye hungry as he took you in. You looked at him now, really looked at him as his strong arms slid to each side of you, caging you in his hold.

He was black and blue, the beautiful melancholy shades in between. The way he loved was different than anything you had experienced before. It was scary, a freefall into the depths of the icy water you were scared to tread. But it was numbing- the way he cared.

A soft and sweet energy, that pricked you gently like pins and needles. His breath was warm as he refused to break eye contact and you wanted to shrink into the depths of the mattress as you felt yourself cave.

“I bet you taste so good.” he confessed softly, his words making you shudder with delight.

You knew where this was going. It was heading down the old beaten path the two of you had stumbled down so many times, when you were both drunk off sin in the walls of the church.

You liked it.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah angel. Mmm god I think about tasting you all the time, your skin, your lips, your fingertips..” he trailed off, head dropping down to your chest, rubbing his nose against the skin of your collarbone.

You felt your hips wriggle, wetness seeping into your panties. “What do you think they taste like?” you sighed as his teeth gently grazed you, biting into your flesh to mark it as his own.

“Like cinnamon n sugar. So. Fuckin. Sweet.” he kissed your neck between each word as you gigged softly, his plump lips making you squirm.

“You’re so addicting baby. The things I wanna do to you…” he smirked, licking a stipe where your silky nightgown dipped, revealing the slight curve of your breasts.

Heels were dug into the ruffled sheets, the sound of your books falling to the hardwood below echoed as the strong breeze brushed you again. No amount of wind could chill the fire that was burning in your veins right now.

“But we can’t do them. Cause we’re best friends.” you pouted, running your fingers along the back of his neck, curving them around to trace each vein that pulsed as he shivered.

“Who says?” he whispered, like he was in a trance, and you felt your dress being pushed up, up, up to pool around your waist, your stomach exposed as his head dipped down towards it.

“Best friends do everything together bunny. Don't you think about me like I think about you?” he asked mischievously and you nodded frantically.

“Mmm sometimes.”

“Cause I think about you alll the time. Think about how good you’d be for me when I’m strokin my dick.” he confessed, shuffling down to trail kisses across your stomach, your legs spreading wider as he found his home between them.

“Y-yeah?” you whimpered, heart beating so fast you heard the blood racing in your ears, his voice sounding distant. It was hard to focus, but at the same time it was hard to focus on anything but him.

The human body was a funny thing, sometimes. How yours could bend and contract to his will at the whisper of his voice, at the touch of his skin.

“Mmm yeah. You make me wanna do such bad bad things. But you’re too sweet for that.”

Oh god. Oh god, oh god, oh god.

“Peter-”

“Can I tase you? Please? Just a lil lick, I swear.”

You moaned at his words alone. How did they sound so sweet, so innocent when there was so much filth behind them? You could never say no to him.

Never.

“Please.” you urged, the chill breeze making you tremble as he removed your thong, your knees bent slightly over his shoulders. It happened in a blur, time seeming to jump and snap back again as he had you under his thumb, hanging onto every word he said.

The first lick sent you into overdrive, body shifting up gears as you crude out his name- hands tugging at his strands of hair as if they were reins. The faint scent of weed trickled through your nose, blemishing your skin and sweat as it trickled.

You couldn't think. Couldn't move, couldn't speak.

You and Peter had fooled around before but this…this was new territory. And it felt good. A lick turned into a taste as you heard him growl, tongue stroking through your sensitive folds again.

“You- you said just a taste-” you panted out, hips thrusting against him as he chuckled.

“I lied. You should've known.” he teased, eyes meeting yours again- stare so intense you had to look away.

It was frightening- the eye contact. It was an endless void, a freefall you weren't sure if you'd have a hand to catch you. It was filled with an emotion you couldn’t quite place, a haziness that made you feel sluggish, like you had drank too much cheap booze, and smoked too many cigarettes.

You were as breathless as the summer's night outside as he dived back in, malnourished and needy as he devoured you. His lips suctioned around your clit, sucking it sweetly as you wethered and moaned.

“So so sweet…” he murmured. You felt yourself snap under him as his tongue pushed you over the edge, releasing onto his face as you cried out. His hands tightened their grip around the barricade of your thighs, chin gleaming with your juices as your body shuddered from the aftershocks.

“That's a girl. My sweet sweet angel.” he sang out, shuffling up to kiss your lips gently, the taste of yourself staining your mouth. You savored his affections, wrapping your arms around his neck, desperate for something to cling to.

You were scared to let him go, scared he would leave you vulnerable and open like all the others. He sensed your hesitation, rolling over to the side of you, nuzzling his head into your neck as you continued to hold him close.

“Was I good?” you asked meekly, your biggest fear not being enough for him.

He just smiled.

“More than good. The best.” he whispered, kissing your skin. You exhaled a sigh of relief, tension seeping from your bones as you cradled him.

You heard an owl coo out from the branches of the old oak tree that scratched your house, the wind howling against the old siding. You basked in the emptiness of the room, no one here but the two of you and the peeling posters that peered down at you from the walls.

He wasn't leaving you. He wasn't embarrassed or ashamed and he was staying with you. He wanted to do this.

It was hard to think about, hard to wrap your head around it as you had been so shameful of your desires towards him for so long. The old wooden cross that was hung above your bed seemed almost mocking as it reflected in your vanity mirror, a symbol of overcoming sin now with a meaning diminished.

“You awake?” you asked Peter softly, ripping your eyes from the wood, knowing your father's words would haunt you the longer you were left to your own avail.

There were so many responses you wanted to spew out to him.

God loves you- but not enough to save you.

But you didn’t, to save yourself the abuse of his wrath.

“Mmm.” he mumbled sleepy, the weed putting him a place of serenity and calm as he synced his breathing with yours. “Did you want me to return the favor?” you mumbled, feeling bad he didn't get the same opportunity you did.

He just shook his head. “Another time angel. Let me just… lie with you. I like when I just get to be with you like this.” he yawned, bed creaking as he slung his arm around your waist to pull you closer.

“Okay. Whatever you want.”

Silence.

You sighed, flexing your feet, then pointing your toes. The red polish glimmered as the shadows of the wax dripping off the candles bounced off the walls, the smell of the incessant to “hide” the weed smelling of sandalwood.

A truck rumbled in the distance, its tires rolling against the gravel. Peter sat up, eyes flickering to the headlights that beamed towards the house, making you feel anxious as you clung to the bedsheet.

Was your father home early? He wasn't supposed to be home until tomorrow night, and you knew if he walked in on you and Peter- you’d never hear the end of it.

“Is he home?” Peter shook his head as he moved towards the window, and you readjusted your nightgown. His hair was messy and rumpled as he stood, hands resting on the windowsill as he peered down.

A grin was on his face as he turned back to face you, your heartbeat slowing its dangerous pace with an exhale.

He wasn't home. Or else Peter wouldn't be smiling.

“Well? Who the hell is at my house at-” Your eyes flickered back to the clock. “Eleven at night?”

Peter just shrugged, a cheeky look on his face as he walked towards the bedroom door, grip on the brass handle tightening as he swung it wide open.

You heard the front door open, two familiar voices echoing from down the hallway.

Bucky and Steve.

“Look who decided to pay us a visit!” Peter laughed, making you shake your head with a smile.

Look who decided to visit indeed.

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williamswifey · 1 year

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hiii i love all of your fics! could i request a bella ramsey x reader where the reader is part of a well known film like stranger things or a marvel movie and everytime bella and them are in an interview they gush about the reader’s character in the other film, which fans notice and think is adorable😭

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 - 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀 𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐒𝐄𝐘

pairing ; bella ramsey x fem!reader

summary ; bella thinks you’re a fantastic actor and rants about it 🤷‍♀️

content warnings ; none, intense fluff

a/n ; sorry for the filler posts lately, i’ve been lacking in the creativity department for actual plots, so plz send in asks to get my creative juices flowing

masterlist

stranger things season four recently came out, and being one of the main characters, you had been extremely busy with interviews and premieres.

it was all so exciting, you loved seeing fans reactions to the show. you loved being tagged in fan edits, and you loved replying to dm’s and tweets.

just when the buzz from the recent dropping of the season began to die down, you and bella had been invited for an interview by vogue, to give a tour of your shared apartment while answering questions.

you had gotten the email from your manager while you had been finishing up a load of laundry, and you we’re static. you and bella’s relationship had gone public about a year ago, even though the two of you had been dating for longer.

there wasn’t much content out from the two of you, aside from social media posts. now that you thought about it, you and bella had never actually been in an official interview together.

sure, the two of you had been interviewed during premieres together, and the paparazzi took photos of you two together all the time—you had never actually sat down with them for an interview.

you excitedly walked downstairs, seeing bella curled up on the couch with a book in their hand. their head peeled upwards when you came into their line of vision, a small smile tugging at their lips.

“hi, darling,” they said in a soft voice, patting the spot next to them.

you grinned and laid besides bella, your head resting on their lap. bella began to play with your hair, successfully beginning to lull you into a gentle sleep.

just before you allowed yourself to slip into unconsciousness, your brain reminded you of why you went to find bella in the first place.

you opened your eyes, and rolled over to face bella. you gently pried the book out of their hands, placing their bookmark you bought for them on the page they left off at.

you yawned before you began to talk, causing bella to chuckle at you, poking your cheek.

“i thought you were a sleepy girl,” they said, tilting their head to the side.

“i am,” you said, rubbing at your eyes, before sitting up straight, “but i had something to ask you first.”

“oh?” bella said, their interest suddenly peaking as they leaned forward slightly.

“nothing bad,” you assured, taking their hand as you fiddled with their rings, “but i got an email from my manager, asking about a vogue interview with us. we’d have to answer a few questions about each other while showing them our apartment. i think it’s an awesome idea, but if you don’t want to it’s totally fine and—”

bella noticed you beginning to ramble as they placed their free hand under your chin, your eyes meeting theirs.

“i’d love to.”

you smiled, and made a mental reminder to email your manager back. in the meantime, you resumed your previous spot on bella’s lap, feeling their gentle hands against your hair as you fell asleep.

***

two weeks and days worth of cleaning later, you and bella were sitting on your couch, waiting for the camera crew and interviewer to arrive to your apartment.

your apartment was in the heart of los angeles, so traffic was always pretty intense, especially in the late afternoon. you were attempting to mentally prepare yourself to answer questions while bella scrolled aimlessly on their phone.

eventually, you grew bored of staring into space and looked over bella’s shoulder to see whatever they were doing on their phone. you giggled when you saw bella staring at a photo of you from your most recent press event.

“…bella my love, what are you doing?”

bella grew startled as their phone nearly flew out of their hands, face pink. however, bella wasn’t embarrassed about the fact they were looking at photos of you—in fact, they were proud.

“just looking at photos of you, reminding myself how lucky i am.” bella replied, and your face now turned the shade of pink bella’s was moments ago.

bella was such a sap sometimes.

“you’re cute, you know that?” you said, pressing a few kisses to bella’s face.

you two began to play fight, and a few seconds later, bella had pinned you to the couch, and was kissing your neck playfully while you giggled.

your fun was cut short by the doorbell. you groaned, sliding out from underneath bella as you made your way to the door, quickly fixing your hair and lipgloss.

the interviewer arrived with a camera crew, and you and bella began the tour.

***

after a brief tour of your apartment, the camera crew and interviewer got settled on your couch as they began to prepare you both for the interview.

they promised nothing too invasive or intense—but you weren’t worried. your manager promised your assistant had reviewed and approved every question on the list.

bella seemed to be a bit more jittery, and the obnoxious interviewer clearly took advantage of that—as they decided they’d ask bella a few questions first.

“so, bella,” the interviewer began, turning her attention towards bella, “have you gotten the chance to see stranger things season four yet?”

bella shifted in their seat. you honestly had no idea if they watched it or not, and their reply was a complete surprise.

“i have!” bella replied enthusiastically, beginning to fiddle with their rings the way they did when excited, “y/n was absolutely fabulous, as always. and her character? my god. i’ve never rooted for a protagonist more. y/n’s acting is incredible. sometimes i’d be watching the show in our bedroom while y/n was in the living room reading…and i’d just be like—holy fuck. i live with this person.”

bella’s response to you and your character had you blushing manically. your cheeks were bright pink as you fought back a smile, intertwining your hand with bella’s.

their eyes met yours.

“do you really mean that, bels?” you asked softly, heart fluttering as bella nodded.

“more than anything. but i have to admit, your character is way cooler than you,” bella joked, ruining the moment as you gently shoved their shoulder and playfully stuck their tongue out at them.

bella giggled, the both of you completely forgetting that the interviewer was still there, and the camera was still recording.

the two of you were quick to pull it together again, professional as can be.

“but, yeah,” bella said after a moment, “i saw stranger things and it’s probably my favorite tv show at the moment—but i might also be biased.”

this made a chuckle slip past your lips.

you rested your head on bella’s shoulder as the interviewer glanced at the pair of you.

“now y/n,” the interviewer began, “now i guess it’s your turn. i assume you’ve seen the last of us, so what did you think of it?”

your grinned was so large you felt your cheeks widen. as you opened your mouth to speak, you knew your words would rival bella’s previous in an instant.

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