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laundrybiscuits · 9 months

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(ETA: now edited and up on AO3)

Look. Eddie knows he can be a little uptight about these things, but. There are rules. If you become a vampire, you don’t need to go full gothic Count Von Dickhead or whatever, but you absolutely cannot just wander around in a puffy vest and light-wash jeans.

“Why not?” says Steve. He’s leaning back in an armchair, sipping on a bloodbag like it’s a goddamn juicebox. “What, are the vampire police going to arrest me?”

He pauses. “Wait. There aren’t vampire police, are there?”

“No,” says Eddie. “Probably not. I don’t know. But there are standards which you are refusing to uphold, Steven.”

“Thought you were all about hating conformity, Edward,” Steve says. He’s got an obnoxiously cocky little smirk, the smug undead fucker.

Eddie grimaces. “Don’t call me that, asswipe. Don’t you feel, like—the call of the night? The siren song of life coursing through fragile human veins? A hunger for destruction that those paltry plastic bags of blood can never truly slake?”

“The bloodbags aren’t so bad,” says Steve, around the straw. “Better than protein shakes.”

“I actually hate you,” Eddie tells him. “Vampirism is wasted on you.”

Steve noisily slurps the last of the blood out of the bottom of the bag. “Come on, you can’t really picture me in some Dracula getup, can you?”

The problem, of course, is that Eddie really, really can. When Robin had read him in on the whole situation, obviously he’d been horrified and concerned—but also, a whole wing of his brain had immediately been cordoned off to work overtime imagining Steve in elaborate Dark Prince regalia, maybe leaning elegantly out of a castle window on the moors, gazing into the foggy dusk. Velvet might’ve been involved.

“...guess not,” says Eddie. It doesn’t sound incredibly convincing to his own ears, but Steve just shrugs and gets up to throw the bloodbag away.

“There you go, man,” he says, clapping Eddie on the shoulder as he passes. “It’s the 80s. Vampires can be whatever we wanna be.”

———

It gets way too easy to forget about Steve’s condition, until Eddie ends up having to haul him out of a bar in Indy before they get banned for life.

“Simmer down, buddy,” Eddie says, pulling him into the shadow of the van. “Let’s get those fangs packed away before any of the nice villagers wander by with torches and pitchforks.”

“I’m good,” pants Steve. “It’s all good. Don’t worry about it. It’s fine.”

Eddie lifts an unimpressed eyebrow. “Sure, that’s why your eyes are glowing red and you’re, like, fully vamped out. Which, by the way, looks extremely dumb with the whole clean-cut vibe you decided to rock tonight.”

“Fuck you, I look great,” says Steve, pushing a hand through his hair. He’s not wrong, it’s just not relevant to how he also looks extremely dumb like this, wearing a pristine henley with fangs hanging out in the parking lot for anyone to see.

“So what the hell happened in there, man? I was finally starting to get somewhere with Todd, and…” Eddie trails off in dawning realization.

“Holy shit, am I—I’m like your territory, aren’t I? Your stupid vampire brain got all screwy and decided to loop me in with Robin and the kids as part of your freaky human coven.”

“Uh,” says Steve. He looks unhappy in a shifty kind of way. “Something like that, maybe.”

“Wait, so, are Nancy and Jonathan—are you okay with them because they’re both already in the vamp pack? Is Vickie gonna have to be inaugurated before she and Robin can bone down?” Eddie perks up. “Shit, is there a ceremony? We could totally do a ceremony.” He bets he can get the kids to liberate some velour curtains from the drama club. With a few candles, they could get some serious atmosphere going.

“No, shut up, nobody’s doing a damn ceremony,” Steve groans. “Vickie’s fine.”

“Okay,” says Eddie. “So…you gonna tell me what all that was about, then? Do I have to start running guys past you first so your vamp instincts don’t wig out? Or…hm, maybe Argyle’d be down to mess around sometime.”

Steve lets out an actual snarl with weird animal echoes, then claps a hand over his mouth.

“Sorry,” he says, muffled. The shadows around them seem darker somehow.

“So I’m just not allowed to get laid ever again,” says Eddie slowly. “For vampire reasons.”

“Do whatever you want, man.” Steve’s still got his hand pressed tight over his mouth.

“And it’s…just me?” Eddie peers at the tightness around Steve’s eyes; the way he’s scowling stubbornly at his feet. “Huh. Kind of…possessive, Harrington.”

“It’s—weird,” says Steve miserably, dropping his hand at last. “I know it’s fucking weird.”

“Maybe.” Eddie shrugs, biting down on the grin he can feel tugging at his mouth. “Lucky for you, I’m into that shit.”

“What?” Steve frowns. “You’re…”

“Always wanted a vampire boyfriend,” says Eddie. “Like, are you kidding? I would’ve sold my fucking soul at 15 for something like that.”

“I’m starting to feel a little objectified here,” says Steve, but he’s smiling, and he reaches out to snag Eddie’s belt loop and tug him stumbling closer. “Just in it for the fangs, huh?”

“Well, you’re kind of a shitty vampire, actually.” Eddie drapes his arms over Steve’s shoulders. “So I guess I must just be in it for you.”

Steve hesitates, searching Eddie’s face. Stray red lights are still sparking like embers in Steve’s irises. “Okay, but—you’re in it? Right?”

“Couldn’t get rid of me if you tried, Bunnicula. I’ll send the vampire police after you, just watch me,” says Eddie, and kisses him.

#steddie #vampire steve harrington #I don't know what happened; I just sat down and wrote this even though I have a million other things to do #I was briefly possessed by the spirit of 'what if steve harrington were the least genre-appropriate vampire of all time'#and also my perpetual need to write people with terrible communication skills #I may edit this a bit more when it's not 3am but ftr I am not planning on any continuations

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bluerosefox · 5 months

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Courting Chaos (to Balance)

A KlarionxDanny brain worm that has spawned

Tim Drake, aka Red Robin gets kidnapped suddenly and very randomly by Klarion in the middle of a JL and others meeting.

Leaving with a

"I'LL RETURN HIM WHEN HES NO LONGER USEFUL JUSTICE LOSERS!"

And fire and chaos in his wake.

While the JL, and others scramble to figure out what Klarion has planned this time, Tim manages to break free of whatever Klarion had used to kidnap him only to find himself on a couch and Klarion nervously petting Teekl on his lap while also sitting in a chair across from him.

When Tim goes to demand to know why Klarion kidnapped him Klarion finally speaks.

"Okay, I wanna strike a deal. I won't bug you or your little Young Just US buddies if you help me ask someone out..."

"...What the fuck Klarion?" Was Tim's only response.

-x-x-

So it turns out, every so often the three main entities and actual factions of Order, Chaos, and Balance get together to well discuss things happening in certain Realms, worlds, and timelines. Basicly to touch base, see where everyone was at. Etc etc.

Order was Order. Chaos was Chaos.

Very simple.

Both could be bad. To much order caused restraint and could snuff out growth. To much Chaos could get out of hand and cause ruin.

Both could be good. Order help stabilizes worlds and builds their future. Chaos allowed creativity to roam and brought forth wonderful things.

And Balance.

Well Balance was the very scales that kept both sides in check. They were neutral grounds. The ones that normally oversaw the meetings as well. And despite their low numbers they held powerful entities that more than made up for it.

Balance did their best to keep things in check, sure they do have their own preference sometimes and allowed the scales to tip a tiny bit but always corrected it later if it tips to much.

It was at this meeting, a meeting even Klarion knew better than to do anything too chaotic, pranks were fine but nothing too much, and had been chatting with a newcomer to the side of Chaos (Danielle, call me Ellie, Phantom. She did some heroing on the side but liked causing chaos in her wake to do so, he liked her so far though.) When the bells for the side of Balance to appear announced them.

Ellie had smiled brightly and said her brother was coming with his mentor, turns out her brother was apart of the Balance group which meant that he was strong, strong enough to need a mentor.

He watched as the members of Balance walked, teleported, flew, and other means into the meeting halls. And then froze when his eyes caught sight of him.

Floating next to a blue skined being that was switching ages was a beautiful otherworldly person.

Snow white hair that wisped upwards oh so softly. Glowing green eyes that were cat-like with their piercing glance. A galaxy cloak hanged around his shoulders and seemed to shift with each movement. Star like freckles decorated his face and seemed to glow a soft bluish white. A crown made of ice and aurora lights floated above his head as well.

All in all Klarion couldn't keep his eyes off of the being at all. He nearly spat his water out when Ellie commented that was her brother Danny, or rather.

High King of the Infinite Realms, Daniel 'Danny' Phantom. The Great One. Defeater of the Tyrant King. The Halfa. The Peaceful End. The Balance of the Undead. (And his mentor was the Ghost of Time itself. THE very Keeper of Time, Kronos original form himself.)

Klarion honestly didn't know what to think or rather what emotions he was feeling when he spotted Danny, nor why his face felt so hot and red when the young man looked over at them and smiled. (He was smiling at Ellie but Klarion for some reason hoped it was for him as well)

It wasn't until halfway in the meeting when a rather ingenious prank that Klarion, Ellie, and a few others had set up went off... thing was it strong enough that it had hit Danny's side of the meeting and had hit him.

Now, again pranks were okay but only after the meetings. It was one of the few rules many, even those in Chaos, took seriously because once it was done and over they could go do their things. So for it to happen in the middle of a meeting means someone set their time on the prank wrong and add the fact it hit a person on the Balance side...

Yeah not good.

Only...

Only instead of getting angry, even Clockwork who was seated next to Danny was chuckling, Danny threw his head back and laughed about it. And his laugh... was very cute.

And before he knew it, Klarion had already fallen.

-x-x-

"So yeah.... Since you have a boyfriend and know how to date in this modern age, I need your advice."

".... Klarion just because I'm dating Bernard doesn't mean I know how I did it..."

"Bernard? I thought you were dating that one Supes?"

#danny phantom #danny fenton #dp x dc #blue rambles #crossover #writing ideas #random idea #danny phantom dc #KlarionxDanny #ngl kinda based Klarion crushing off how my parents meet #they were at a party due to their siblings and my ma mentioned she was walking around and heard my dad's laughter above everyone's #said she really liked his laugh and found him at the party #very loosely based on my ma getting her crush on my dad #anyways Klarion is crushing hard #he cant ask Ellie though. He may have just meet her but he can sense shes gonna be a gremlin about it #so he goes to the one person he knows is a in a relationship! in the modern age too!#only he kidnaps Tim and well...#chaos #meanwhile Danny gushes to his friends about a cute chaos lord he spotted at the meeting #he wants to talk to him but Ellie is being a troll and not telling him anything about her new friend

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neteyamsmoon · 24 days

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I need to let out my inner slut and tell you how much I want neteyam x human reader getting eaten out by him for the first time 😭😭

A helping friend

~ Summary : As the great friend Neteyam is, he always helps you and teaches you something new. But one day, he taught you what pleasure feels like.

~ Warnings : human reader, oral (fem receiving), dom!Neteyam, sub!Reader, first time, virginity loss, non-con, size difference, praising <3

~ Word count : almost 1.5k

~ Translations : narlor - beautiful ; yawntutsyìp - little loved one ; sevin - pretty (female) ; syulang - flower

It is true that you and Neteyam are best buddies since you were little. You two were always with one another, never being alone. If you were somewhere, Neteyam was after you and vice versa.

As time passed and you both grew older and became even closer. He began bringing you new things he found interesting and taught you about them as much as he already knows. He wanted to make sure that even if you're human, you know everything about his clan. He wanted you to know every plant, animal and weapon, to identify them as quickly as possible.

He thought he taught you everything you needed to know, but he was wrong.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Neteyam is finally free. All his duties for today are finished and he can rest in peace. He takes his bow and walks back to his family's hut, desiring a much deserved nap. Neteyam's a busy man because the role of the next Olo'eyktan doesn't come just like that, he has responsibilities too.

He enters the hut and places his weapons and warrior garments next to the flap, in their original spot. His golden eyes scan the area and find out he's alone. His parents must have left and his siblings are out somewhere, doing something probably crazy.

A sigh leaves his mouth and he storms out of the hut. He can't stay like that, alone. But he decides to visit his little human.

You are the most annoying thing he has ever met but he won't trade you for anything in the world. You are funny too, something he adores but also hates at the same time since your humour can be a bit too much for him.

Neteyam walks towards the lab, his long strides carrying him the distance as he arrives in just a few minutes. He pushes the door open and extends his large arm to grab a breathing mask. He brings it to his neck and lets it hang loosely around it as he lifts the mask to his nose and breathes in and out.

Neteyam makes his way to your room, knowing the way like the back of his hand. There, he sees you lying flat on your bed, a book in your hands. You are wearing an oversized t-shirt of Spider's since he doesn't wear them and a pair of shorts that belong to you and reach just below your butt. Neteyam had always joked about the way you looked but not in a bad way. He likes the way your body looks and wants you to know that.

With great care, he goes towards you and lets his big body fall on top of your fragile one, earning a surprised yelp from you.

"Get off!" you demand and instead of moving off of you, he chuckles and wraps his long arms around you, looking yours inside his to keep you close.

"It's not funny Teyam." you sigh and try to wiggle out of his grasp only for him to hug you tighter.

"Don't wanna." he mumbles in the crook of your neck, his hot breath tickling your skin. "I like to stay here, on top of you." you feel like going crazy. Besides him being heavy as fuck, he is also stubborn and hard to convince.

"You are going to crush me. Get off so we could talk like two normal people!" now your patience is running off but Neteyam doesn't pay attention. Man is in his own world.

"Have I ever told you I'm not normal?" you don't need confirmation, he is teasing you and has that smug smile on his face. You want to slap him hard. Right now, right here. But you can't! Why? Because he has you trapped underneath him. What made you choose a behemoth as your best friend?

You want to speak again, but he is quick to cut you off, "I brought you nothing today... but I guess I could show you something new." his raspy voice lingers in your ears for a moment longer. Something new?

"What do you mean, Teyam? You said you didn't bring me anything for today?" you ask but he chuckles again.

"Have you ever..." he stops speaking as his large hand sneaks its way to the band of your shorts, pulling at it before letting go of it and watching it slap against your hip. You breath hitches in your chest at the thought of him touching you. It's true that you never touched yourself before because you didn't know how. You wanted your first time to be special, not you masturbating yourself.

"No..." you let out a shaky breath as he runs one long finger across your already soaked folds, collecting all your juices.

"Then why don't we try, huh?" he's teasing you, enjoying the fact that from someone with attitude he turned you into a mess who can't even comprehend her own words.

You don't know if you should. Yes, you are best friends and trust each other with your lives but this, you don't know if you can allow him to take away your virginity.

As if he's sensing your discomfort, Neteyam places a wet kiss on the back of your nape.

"I will make you feel good, narlor. Let me give you a taste of what you never experienced." his plea sounds so good that you almost nodded. His large digit rubs circles on your clit, and you involuntarily arch your back in his chest.

"There you are. I knew you would like this." he continues to rub your bud, his eyes never leaving your tiny frame that was trapped under his mass.

"Neteyam..." "I'm right here yawntutsyìp. Tell me you like it, tell me you want more." when you don't answer, he pulls back. All the pleasure you felt is now gone like it wasn't even there. A whine leaves your mouth at his action, regretting not responding to his question.

"See what you did? You always talk but now you can't tell me 'yes'?" he lifts himself off of you and rolls you over on you back, your calves being put over his thick thighs.

"You are rude." you point your finger at him but he smirks down at you. Gently, he pulls down your shorts and is surprised not to see anything else under.

"Nothing? It's like you were calling for me." Neteyam leans down and takes a long breath, your scent intoxicating him. Your aroma is what Neteyam is addicted to from now on. His blue lips make contact with your hot skin, leaving sloppy kisses along your stomach and inner thighs.

He lowers his head between your small thighs and dives in. His lips wrap around your clit and sucks on the small bud as he teases your entrance with his thick fingers. You throw your head back and close your eyes tightly, the pleasure intensifying with his mouth on you. You look down at him and he's already staring, never breaking eye contact. His piercing stare makes you wet if not wetter. Neteyam can feel his fingers getting soaked around your lips and smirks, the corner of his lips tugging upwards.

His mouth releases your clit with a wet pop as he lowers his head, his hands coming to your thighs to spread them even wider. When his large tongue enters you, your eyes roll back from the overwhelming pleasure. You back arches hard and you unintentionally push Neteyam's tongue deeper into you. Of course this doesn't go unnoticed by him as he moves it in and out of you, his flat nose rubbing against your clit with every thrust.

"Fuck — Nete, I'm close.." you whimper and grip at his braids. Neteyam hums in response as he continues to lap at your juices like a hungry animal. A loud pornographic moan leaves your mouth as the coil in your stomach snaps.

Neteyam pulls back and wipes away your slick from his chin and jaw with the back of his hand, gazing down at your now numb form.

"You sounded so pretty, sevin." your eyes roll at his comment before they drift to the ceiling. Why didn't you do that earlier? You didn't know how to touch yourself but also didn't want to make a fool of yourself.

"Thank you. Thank you for showing me... for, teaching me what pleasure feels like. I think that's the best lesson I ever got from you." you say weakly, catching your breath though there is truth behind those words. Neteyam nods at your words and comes closer to you, lying beside you and curling his big body around yours.

"Always, syulang." he presses a kiss on the top of your head before he drags a blanket over you, wrapping you in it like a baby. He hugs you tightly to his chest and closes his eyes, drifting off to sleep with you in his embrace and heart.

#property-of-neteyam #𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐈—requests #avatar #avatar the way of water #avatar fanfiction #neteyam x human reader #neteyam x female reader smut #neteyam x human #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x reader #neteyam smut #neteyam sully #neteyam #neteyam scenario #neteyam series #neteyam suli x reader #neteyam x you

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macabr3-barbi3 · 27 days

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a little messy, a little brutal (Vox/Reader)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54917902

Vox is not subtle about the things he considers to be 'his.' (Inspired by Yandere by Jazmin Bean ❤️🩵)

Tags: Yandere; Obsessive Vox; possessive Vox; Possessive Sex; Homicide? Minor Character Death; Minor Violence; Couch Sex; Cunnilingus

<3<3<3<3<3<3

You can already imagine the twitch of Vox’s hypnotic eye as a demon approaches you in the dark corner of the club you had taken up. You had specifically chosen a section of the club that was not well-illuminated and out of the way precisely to avoid having to talk to anyone else until your friend arrived and yet, here you were. Preparing to fend off the advances of some lowlife sinner while your patience for public outings like this dwindled ever lower.

Velvette had invited you out with the other Vees and they were all running late- some tantrum that Valentino was throwing, no doubt, since that usually seemed to be the cause for any hold ups involving them.

You almost feel sorry for the lizard demon slinking his way over to you, beady eyes bright and interested as he watches where you’re perched on a table. Since you had started hanging out with Velvette (and by association, Vox and sometimes Valentino), demons that took an unreciprocated or unwelcome interest in you ended up not being around any longer- whether that meant dead or moved to another department was none of your business. All of the Vees denied any involvement with these disappearances, naturally, and Val was the only one that you really believed, but Vox was… not subtle about it. At all. A word of insult or unsolicited advance directed to you and he would step out of the room with an arm around the offending party, coming back a few minutes later alone, his hands shoved into his pockets, his red eye twitching in annoyance before he fixed his stare on you for the rest of the evening or whatever amount of time you remained in his presence.

The twitch was cute. When you hung out in Vel’s studio and her models came over to talk to you, you could almost feel the intensity of his expression glitching out across the room. If you initiated conversation or didn’t seem offended or put out by the person he would leave them alone- it was only once they became disrespectful that he or Velvette would take matters over. No one ever put their hands on you, so a little teasing directed at the TV demon was entertaining. And seeing Vox get all flustered and twitchy because you were talking to someone was always a fun time, even if he wouldn’t make a move.

The lizard reaches you and immediately slides his scaly tail around your calf, the sensation sending a grimace onto your face. “What’sss a pretty gal like you doin’ lurking in the darknesssss?”

“Waiting for my friends. Please don’t touch me.” When his tail doesn’t remove itself you reach down and unravel it manually, not missing the way that his eyes dart to the vee of your neckline when you do so.

“Sssurely you can be convinced to sspend time with… ssssomeone elssse.” He leers at you suggestively.

“Look, buddy,” you say, not sure when the Vees would be arriving but knowing that it would be some time soon- and that not one of them would appreciate this demon’s hands on you. Not that you did either. “I’m trying to do you a favor. My friends? You don’t wanna be here when they get here.”

He slides a clawed hand around your waist, tall enough with your position on the table to be able to accomplish such a move. It feels slimy and uncomfortable even through the shirt you wear. “So let’ssss leave before they come, baby.” His other hand comes to rest on your thigh, sharp nails poking through the fabric of your jeans. “I can sssshow you a good time.”

You wouldn’t even need to wait for Vox to get here to do something drastic. You shove the lizard back, his claws leaving jagged tears in your bottoms from the force he had gripped you. Hopping off the table, you push him again. “Back the fuck off,” you snarl at him, and rather than taking the hint and fucking off to literally anywhere else, he doubles down.

He crowds you back against the table, the harsh edge of it digging into your back as he grabs your shoulders. “Playin’ hard to get, huh?” The smile he gives you is nasty and mean. “Ssssure, doll, we can play it that way.” His forked tongue snakes out and flicks against the column of your throat, and the feeling makes bile rise.

You bare your teeth, sharp fangs glinting in the little amount of light that reaches the corner you’re in. He’s leaning in and you flash your claws, ready to get yourself kicked out of this club if you have to defend yourself when there’s a spray of warm liquid across your chest, the shock of it making you freeze with your hands clenched into fists.

The lizard has frozen as well, and a glance down reveals the source of the distraction. A claw tipped hand has found its way through the lizard’s chest, and once you’ve noticed it it retreats back into the cavity that it’s created. You look over the shoulder of the demon, who has now, thankfully, softened his grip on you, and meet Vox’s eyes.

As well as you can between the glitches that overtake his screen, anyway. His face is flashing in and out with error messages, red eye huge and swirling with the flow of his anger through his system, mouth set into a harsh sneer. An arch of electricity travels down his arm and the lizard seizes up, static sparking off his body as Vox electrocutes him from the inside. This is followed by smoke as something catches fire inside the demon, and Vox pulls his hand back, blood dripping from his fingers as Val tries to place a reassuring hand on his back, jerking away at the shock that strikes him.

The lizard drops to the floor, a gently flaming mass that someone is already rushing over to extinguish, and Vox steps around his discarded body to wrap his hand entirely around your forearm, jerking you away from the table and into his chest, arms wrapping possessively around your body. He’s muttering into your scalp, screen so close that you can feel the static lifting your hair strands up, and Velvette is bitching at the club employee that’s come over to clear up the newly christened corpse. Valentino is watching Vox cling to you. “Easy, baby, she’s fine.” He reaches a hand out like he means to pat you on the head, and Vox’s head snaps back at him, teeth bared and snarling like a feral animal. Val jerks his hand back with his eyebrows raised. “Message received, hands off!” He goes to join Velvette in her berating, throwing Vox an annoyed look as he walks away.

Vox is silent for a moment, and you finally release the tension in your fists to place lightly on his back. You hadn’t expected anything like this- not so blatantly, anyway, in view of the hundreds of people in the club right now. Nothing had even really happened. “Hey, I’m really okay,” you say, and raise your head up to look at him. “I had the situation handled- you didn’t need to-”

“You call that h̨͚͚͖ͯ̒̄͗͞a͔͔̜̗̦ͩ̅̎n̫̫̘̗͕̲̲̎ͥd̶̵̯̯̼̘ͨ̓l͖͖̰̝ͭ̀͘ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧd̶̵̯̯̼̘ͨ̓?” His voice stutters out and he pulls back, his face desperate and angry as his eyes rove over your body. He notices the tiny cuts on your thighs from when you had shoved the lizard back and the blatant rage on his face is unlike anything you've seen before.

“It was under control,” you insist, and with a crackle of electricity you’ve moving- Vox has pulled you into the wiring of the club with him, manifesting in some back room and snarling “get the fuck out” to the couple of people that were already occupying it. They scram, and Vox slams the door shut behind them, clicking the lock with a turn of his claws before turning to face you again.

His entire frame is shaking as he watches you steady yourself from the fast travel, trying and failing to take a steadying breath. You grab a jacket from a nearby rack in an attempt to wipe some of the lizards blood from your chest. “I would like to make it c̨̨̣̮̝̈́̔ͯ̀͂ṛ̣̬̫̍͌ͩ͟y͙͙̪̰ͫ͌́s̨̞̞̰͎͎̪̩͕̈́̀ͯ̍ͧͅt͖͖̠̬͛a͔͔̜̗̦ͩ̅̎l͖͖̰̝ͭ̀͘ c̨̨̣̮̝̈́̔ͯ̀͂l͖͖̰̝ͭ̀͘ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧa͔͔̜̗̦ͩ̅̎ṛ̣̬̫̍͌ͩ͟.” he starts, the glitch in his voice more pronounced now that you are alone and out of the range of the thumping club music. “That no one is to touch you. E̢̢̻ͮͧͦ͋͞͡v̹̹̘̼̞̻͆ͩ̓ͪ͢ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧṛ̣̬̫̍͌ͩ͟.”

“Vox, I’m fine-”

“That isn’t the question.” A spark of static and he’s standing in front of you now, a claw tipped finger tilting your head up to meet his gaze, drawn and angry- not at you, but at the position you had been in, the position he remedied. “The question is ‘do you understand me’ when I say that no one is to touch you.”

Your brow furrows, and you try to take a step back from him. “Jesus, what are you-”

“D̷̨̥̥̥͖̞͐ͮ̄o͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞ y͙͙̪̰ͫ͌́o͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡ ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡n̫̫̘̗͕̲̲̎ͥd̶̵̯̯̼̘ͨ̓ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧṛ̣̬̫̍͌ͩ͟s̨̞̞̰͎͎̪̩͕̈́̀ͯ̍ͧͅt͖͖̠̬͛a͔͔̜̗̦ͩ̅̎n̫̫̘̗͕̲̲̎ͥd̶̵̯̯̼̘ͨ̓?” Vox crowds into your space, the sudden rush of it making you drop into the couch behind you. He places a knee on the cushion next to you and leans in, arms coming up to bracket you against the cushions. Despite the lingering edge of fear at how he’s acting, it’s far more welcome than that lizard trying to box you in and corner you. “I will flash fry the floor of this shitty club to destroy anyone that even thinks about looking in your direction. And I would rip the heart out of every fucking demon in Pentagram City to ensure that no one ever lays a miserable, unworthy finger on you again.”

He traces his fingers over the cuts on your thighs, his breath shaky as he looks down at them. “I wish I could kill him again for this alone. To bring you pain in any context besides pleasure is ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡n̫̫̘̗͕̲̲̎ͥf̰̰̯͕͊̃̊͞͞͞o͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞ṛ̣̬̫̍͌ͩ͟g̬̬̱ͩ͋͟͟i̧̻̻͉̜͑ͪ̾͟v̹̹̘̼̞̻͆ͩ̓ͪ͢a͔͔̜̗̦ͩ̅̎b͔͔̳͈̊̆ͥ͂͜͝l͖͖̰̝ͭ̀͘ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧ.” His screen goes blank for a moment with the force of his rage.

And fuck, what does it say about you that the display before you has you dripping before he’s even touched you? The possessiveness of his actions alone the whole time you had known him had been enough to have you surreptitiously clenching your thighs together all the time, but the way he spoke now, like to disrespect you was blasphemy of the worst kind? If you didn’t leave this room fucked within an inch of your life then Vox was all talk, and you’d have to find somewhere else to hang with Velvette because there was no way you could look him in the eyes and not want to jump his bones again after this.

You reach a trembling hand out to grab one of his arms where he still has you boxed in under him. “I understand,” you say, answering his question finally. “I get it. No one touches me… but you?” You feel the tendons of his forearm flex with your words as he tenses, screen blinking back online as he gives you a smile.

“That’s right, doll. No one but me.” He trails a finger down your face, leaving behind a vague feeling of static. “Good girl- I didn’t even have to tell you and you know. You’re m̰̰̹͚̙̂ͦ͗͠i̧̻̻͉̜͑ͪ̾͟n̫̫̘̗͕̲̲̎ͥḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧ.” Arousal settles heavily into your core, and you rest your face into the palm of his hand, eyelids fluttering shut. “You like the thought of that, huh? Belonging to me?”

“Fuck, yes,” you whisper, and there’s a crackle of electricity as he leans in, some kind of manifestation of lips meeting yours before a long tongue slips into your mouth, the resulting spark making you keen into the air of the silent room.

When he pulls back you chase him, managing to get a nip of teeth to his mouth before he’s out of reach. “Fuck me, baby, you taste divine- I knew you would, knew you’d be fucking perfect for me.” He slides off the couch to his knees, trailing his tongue along your skin the whole way and leaving pleasant tingling in its wake. He brings his eyes up to meet yours from his position now on the floor, red eye swirling slowly while he stares in rapture. His clawed fingers hook into the sides of your jeans and start to shimmy them down, his tongue darting out to flick over the cuts on your thighs when they’re revealed. “You’ll be good for me, right? Forever. You won’t let anyone else ever fucking t͖͖̠̬͛o͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡c̨̨̣̮̝̈́̔ͯ̀͂h̨͚͚͖ͯ̒̄͗͞ y͙͙̪̰ͫ͌́o͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡ again because you belong to me. I’ll fucking kill anyone who tries.” His eyes are wide and desperate when he finally gets your pants off your legs, bringing his hands up to rest on your thighs over the marks that the lizard had left. “You’ll never need anyone else. Let me show you, doll, how sweet I can be to you if you’re good for me.”

The whiny ‘yes’ has hardly left your lips before he’s running his tongue between your slick folds, angling his screen to get as close to your cunt as possible. He licks into you with the desperation of a man starved, the muscle- was it really a muscle if he was a TV? You’d have to ask him about that later- reaching depths inside of you that have never been touched, not by another person or your own fingers or toys. It feels like being electrocuted when he prods the tip of it against a sweet spot inside of you, and your hands fly down to clutch at his where they still rest on your thighs.

“That’s right, sweetheart,” you hear him say, despite the fact that his mouth is otherwise occupied. He must have speakers somewhere on his head that are allowing him to broadcast his thoughts, a stream of filth that makes your back arch and your walls to clench around him. “Fuck, you’re so goddamn sexy,” he says as he moans into your pussy. “I’ve always wanted you like this- every time you came over to see Velvette I wanted you stuffed with my cock.”

“Oh my god.” Your body is vibrating with tension, taut as a fucking drum with the way his tongue is playing you. “D-don’t talk with your mouth full,” you manage, and you can feel the sharp edges of his smile against your cunt.

Vox slides a hand over your thighs to press a sharp tipped claw to the sensitive nub of your clit, your voice choking out of you in a wail as he makes it vibrate somehow, right where you need it. “Such a g̬̬̱ͩ͋͟͟o͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞o͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞d̶̵̯̯̼̘ͨ̓ g̬̬̱ͩ͋͟͟i̧̻̻͉̜͑ͪ̾͟ṛ̣̬̫̍͌ͩ͟l͖͖̰̝ͭ̀͘, riding my mouth like this- I’ll give you my cock next, dollface, is that what you want?” He can’t hear you nod your head frantically so you claw at his fingers, gasping out an affirmative for him that he talks over with his tongue buried inside of you. “Come on, baby- cum on my tongue, let me have it.”

Angelic steel to the throat couldn’t have stopped you from obeying; you're pretty sure your soul leaves your body for a moment with the force of your orgasm, Vox keeping your legs spread with his shoulders to prevent you from clamping them down on his head as he sucks and licks you through your release, drinking it down with a savage smile that you can feel curled against you.

“So perfect, “ he says through his speakers, slicking his tongue through the mess between your thighs as he finally removes his head from between them, the flick of it to your clit making you jolt with sensitivity. “Beautiful, doll, you did so well.” Vox stands, drags your legs with him so you lay horizontally on the couch and he can crouch between them. He lets his belt hang undone from the loops of his trousers as he pulls his cock out and slots against your folds, bumping the head of it against your clit, sliding through the lingering wetness of your orgasm before angling enough that he can start to push into you. His claws dig into your hips, the ache of it making your head spin and distracting you from the slow and steady opening of your cunt to his length.

“Let me hear you, please; tell me you want it, baby, and it’s yours.” He can see your head nodding this time and interprets correctly, thrusting hard into the heat of you. Your hands come up to circle his back, feeling the flexing of his muscles under your fingers as he fucks into you. “I’ll give you anything. A̳̳̹̟̋ͣ͌ͅn̫̫̘̗͕̲̲̎ͥy͙͙̪̰ͫ͌́t͖͖̠̬͛h̨͚͚͖ͯ̒̄͗͞i̧̻̻͉̜͑ͪ̾͟n̫̫̘̗͕̲̲̎ͥg̬̬̱ͩ͋͟͟. S-say the word,” he chokes out, the edges of his screen turning red as his system threatens to overload. “I’ll rip the underworld apart with my b͔͔̳͈̊̆ͥ͂͜͝a͔͔̜̗̦ͩ̅̎ṛ̣̬̫̍͌ͩ͟ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧ f̰̰̯͕͊̃̊͞͞͞ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡c̨̨̣̮̝̈́̔ͯ̀͂k̼̼̞̦̞̼̔i̧̻̻͉̜͑ͪ̾͟n̫̫̘̗͕̲̲̎ͥg̬̬̱ͩ͋͟͟ h̨͚͚͖ͯ̒̄͗͞a͔͔̜̗̦ͩ̅̎n̫̫̘̗͕̲̲̎ͥd̶̵̯̯̼̘ͨ̓s̨̞̞̰͎͎̪̩͕̈́̀ͯ̍ͧͅ to keep your cunt full of me like you fucking d-deserve.” His hips stutter into yours, staccato bursts that make his pelvic bone rub against you in the most sinful way. “Fuck!”

“Please,” you groan, that coil of pressure tightening inside your core again. “Oh fuck, Vox-” You release your death grip on the couch cushions to try to get some fingers between your abdomens, to chase yourself over the edge of that second rapidly approaching orgasm, and one of Vox’s hands shoots down to snatch yours away.

He pins it with a snarl to the back cushion of the couch. “You cum with my cock or nothing,” he growls, hypnotic eye doing its thing, and the edge to his voice has you hissing as he drills into you. “You can do that, can’t you sweetheart? Cum all pretty for me? I need to feel it, baby, s-show me you’re m̰̰̹͚̙̂ͦ͗͠i̧̻̻͉̜͑ͪ̾͟n̫̫̘̗͕̲̲̎ͥḛ̡̰̳͓ͬ͋ͪͧ.” He doesn’t falter in his rhythm, his hips snapping against yours, his screen going white moments after you catch a needy expression that you’re sure he didn’t mean to show you.

You don’t recognize the sound that escapes you when the cresting wave of pleasure crashes, your sharp nails digging harsh lines into Vox’s back as your entire body clenches and releases in time with his pulses into you, shoving his hips hard into you to make sure his cum is as far into your cunt as he can get it. He pants into the space above you, swallows your moans into his mouth as he finishes, releases your captive hand to trail his fingers reverently down your sides.

“You’re so lovely,” he says when his screen comes back on. He rests it against your forehead, the glow of it so close to your eyes a bit painful but not enough to look away. His claws catch on the clotted over cuts on your thighs, and his eyes narrow. “When that slimy fucker regenerates I’m going to hunt him down and kill him again.”

“You really don’t need to do that,” you say with a soft chuckle, face twisting in discomfort as you reposition and you feel his release shift with you. “This was fantastic but I really did have it handled.”

A clawed hand cups your face. “You won’t have to handle anything like that on your own ever again, doll. I meant what I said- you’re mine. Everyone will know not to touch what’s mine.”

He helps you step back into your pants, offering an arm for support at how shaky your legs are after that frantic fucking. He guides you back out to the club through the door this time, running into someone dressed similarly to the employee that had to extinguish your crispy friend earlier. “Oh, Mister Vox! And your lovely friend- I so hope you enjoyed the use of our back room- it’s really an employee break room but that’s perfectly fine-”

They keep talking, but you know Vox stopped listening the moment they placed a guiding hand on the small of your back. A glance back at him confirms this, along with the twitch of his red eye, static already sparking off his clenched fists.

Pros and cons to having such a powerful overlord obsessed with you- a con being that it was looking more and more likely you wouldn’t be allowed to come back to this club after tonight.

#hazbin hotel #ao3 writer #ao3 fanfic #vox smut #vox x reader #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox #x reader #do you think people can tell I'm down bad for the TV man?#my stuff <3

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kaleldobrev · 4 months

Text

Possessive

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x F. Reader

Summary: Ben is highly against when other men hit on you

Original Prompt: Requested by anonymous | HEYYY THERE. First of all- I love your work so freaking much. Second of all- if you’re still accepting requests I was wondering if I could ask for a soldier boy x reader where they’re out at a bar and some creepy guys hits on her?? Basically how Ben would react and everything. THANK YOU SO MUCH LOVE <333

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Cursing (21x) & Possessive!Ben

Authors Note: I re-wrote this I think like a handful of times cause I honestly wasn’t happy with it. But now I am finally happy with it | I really hope you guys liked the way this turned out | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

“So tell me why you fucking dragged me here again?” Ben asked, walking very close behind you that he might as well be attached to your back.

“Hughie’s birthday,” you reminded him.

“Remind me again why he invited me?” Ben asked. “Because we aren’t really buddy-buddy babe.”

“Because believe it or not, he doesn’t hate you,” you said. “Besides, even if he didn’t invite you, I would have dragged you here anyway cause he said I could bring a plus one. And you my guy, are my plus one.”

He rolled his eyes. “I seriously do not want to fucking be here. I have other things I could be doing than hanging out with your friends.”

You turned to him, cocking a brow. “Like what? Smashing bennies on our kitchen counter while you watch re-runs of M*A*S*H?”

He furrowed his brow, hating that you knew him all too well. “Fuck you,” was how he chose to respond.

“Fuck you too,” you smirked. “Now let’s go grandpa,” you said, taking his hand in yours and making your way to the back table where your friends probably already were.

“Y/N!” Hughie exclaimed, holding a beer in his hand. “You made it!”

“Of course I did,” you smiled; him and you exchanging hug. “I wouldn’t miss actually seeing Butcher let loose,” you winked.

“You’ve seen it plenty of times luv,” he said, picking up a shot of vodka.

“Yeah but, that was when strictly murder was involved,” you clarified. He shrugged his shoulders in response, knocking back the shot.

“Hey. I’m shocked you actually came,” Hughie said, gesturing toward Ben.

“She dr—” he started to say, but changed his mind when he saw you, looking at him with the biggest ‘do not piss me off’ look. “Wouldn’t have missed it.”

“So, what’s everyone drinking?” You asked.

“White claw as usual for me. But we have beer and vodka shots too,” Annie replied, gesturing around the table as your eyes followed the drinks.

“Anyone in the mood for some rum?” You asked. “Kinda in the mood for a rum and coke myself.”

“You’re always in the mood for rum and coke,” Ben mumbled. “Rum and my coc—” He mumbled again, but you quickly cut him off, not wanting him to finish his sentence.

“Okay!” You clapped. “I’m gonna go get some rum and coke. Ben, you wanna come with me?” You asked, turning in his direction.

Ben weighed his options: he could either sit at this table making small talk with your friends that he had nothing in common with, or he could go with you to the bar and maybe have the chance to convince you to have a quickie in the bathroom. “I’ll come with you.”

“Perfect!” You clapped again, aggressively taking his hand as the two of you started making your way toward the bar.

As soon as you and Ben were out of ear and eyeshot, Annie was the first one to break the silence. “So, what’s going on with them? Because whenever I bring up their relationship she always changes the subject.”

“They aren’t in a relationship,” Butcher clarified. “Not a real one anyway.”

“I mean, friends with benefits is kind of a relationship,” Annie said. “I mean, it’s not like the two of them don’t have feelings for each other ya know?”

“How do you figure?” Butcher asked.

“You don’t see the way the two of them look at each other? Those are more than ‘I only fuck you cause you’re convenient eyes’,” she explained.

“He doesn’t love her. Dont think the cunt is even capable of love,” Butcher replied, taking another shot of vodka.

“Did you actually want rum and coke or did you just want us to have some alone time?” He smirked. “Come and cock if you will.”

“Why does everything that comes out of your mouth sound disgusting?” You asked, not nearly as disgusted as you were over a year ago when you had first met him. Because you had been around him for as long as you have, you had basically become desensitized to basically everything he had said or did. Him walking around naked? Just an average Tuesday. Him snorting coke while you make pasta? Just an average Friday.

“I thought you liked the things that came out of my mouth,” he winked.

“We are not doing this right now,” you warned him.

“I mean we could. Your heart is beatin’ rather fast right now. And your cheeks are turning that pinkish color they usually get whenever you wanna jump me,” he smirked.

“Either go and sit down or stay quiet. Cause I don’t need these random people in this bar to know about our sex life,” you whispered yelled.

“Where’s your sense of adventure Sweetheart?” He smirked again, starting to tug on your empty belt loop on your jeans.

“Ben,” you whispered through gritted teeth.

“What?” He asked, whispering in your ear. “It’s not like anyone’s paying attention to us. This bar is fucking crowded.” He pulled you close, and kissed your neck; which caused you to let you a tiny moan. “There she is,” he smirked against your skin.

“Okay. I need you to go sit down,” you said, Ben still very much kissing your neck.

“You really want me to go and do that when we can go into the bathroom and have a good and quick fuck?” He whispered.

His offer was tempting, more tempting than you would have liked to admit. But you had to restrain yourself, at least right now — because you didn’t want to get fucked in a dirty bar bathroom. “Ben,” your voice stern.

He knew that voice all too well, and he immediately stopped what he was doing. “Fine,” his voice annoyed. “Gonna go sit by your friends.”

“Ben, you can still stand here. Just keep your hands to yourself,” you told him, but he was already half way across the room. “Fucking child,” you whispered, full well knowing that he would still be able to hear you.

“Pain in my fucking ass,” he mumbled to himself.

“They’re been over there a long time,” Hughie said, trying to see over the sea of people. “Oh wait! Here they come.” But instead of you and Ben coming back toward the table, it was just Ben; and everyone looked at him with slight confusion. “Where’s Y/N?”

“Getting her rum and coke. Weren’t you paying attention?” Ben slightly snapped.

“Jesus,” Hughie mumbled.

“I think what he means is, I thought you were getting one with her,” Annie said.

“Trouble in paradise?” Butcher asked slightly smirking; holding up a shot of vodka for Ben to take. Ben just rolled his eyes and took the shot. “That’s what I thought.”

“Can someone fucking move so I can sit the fuck down?” Ben asked, his voice full of annoyance.

As you waited at the bar for yours and Ben’s drinks, you tapped your fingers along to the music that was playing even though it was very muffled sounding due to the immense crowd in the bar tonight. “Hey little lady,” you heard a male voice say, but you ignored it, thinking that he was probably talking to the girl next to you. But then you felt an aggressive tapping on your shoulders. For a split second you thought that maybe it was Ben, but you knew he would never do something like that to you.

When you turned around, a man about a few inches taller than you stood in front of you. “You talking to me?” You asked.

He scoffed. “Yeah, who else would I be talking to pretty lady?” His words made you shudder. “Cold?”

“Uh yeah…I uh…I run a little cold,” you lied. Fuck, he noticed the shuddering, you thought.

“You can borrow my jacket,” he said, starting to take off a leather jacket that reeked of menthol and cheap whiskey.

“No I’m good, thanks though,” you said, trying your best to be nice. “Besides, I’d never see you again, so you would never get your jacket back.”

“See, I fully intend on seeing you Sweetheart,” he said. “In more ways than one,” he winked. Again, you felt your body shudder. “Are you sure you don’t want my jacket? It’s honestly really fucking hot. Kinda like you.”

Oh sweet baby Jesus, you thought. “I’m good honestly. And plus, I’m sure my friends have a jacket I can borrow.”

“Your friends uh?” He cocked a brow. “They as hot as you?” You honestly didn’t know how to answer that, so you just stood there a little dumbfounded. “I’ll tell you what, I’ll give you my number and we can meet up later for a little party.”

“I don’t thin—” you started to answer.

“And before you say no. I’m sure you would love it, it’s a sex party. Like uh, that Herogasm. Ever been to Herogasm?” He asked.

Of course you’ve been to Herogasm; but it wasn’t for pleasure on any account (as that kind of thing wasn’t remotely your thing). You were strictly there to make sure things didn’t go more south than they already did. “That’s not really my —”

“I really think you’d enjoy it,” he said. “The guy who created it must of been such a freak.” You have no idea, you wanted to say.

“Soldier Boy,” you said, and the man looked at you with slight confusion, furrowing his brow. “Created it…Hero…gasm…”

“Oh shit he did! Man, that guy is a fucking legend,” the man said. “Hey, you think he would still be going to those if he didn’t get killed in that nuclear thing in Ohio back in the eighties?”

“I honestly wouldn’t know,” you said, starting to actually get embarrassed.

“Anyway, enough about that guy. Have you ever had a threesome?” He asked, abruptly changing the subject.

“Hey Sugar,” you heard Ben say from behind you.

“Get in line pal,” the guy said. “She’s with me.”

Ben raised a brow out of amusement. “Oh she is, is she?”

“Yeah and—hey, has anyone ever told you that you kinda look like Soldier Boy? Man, he was my favorite,” the man said. If Ben’s ego couldn’t get any higher…

“He gets that a lot,” you chimed in.

“Shit, you two know each other?” The man said, looking back and forth between you and Ben.

“Yeah,” Ben said. “We’re real familiar with each other. So why don’t you scam before I break your nose for hitting on my girlfriend here?”

The man couldn’t help himself but scoff. “Girlfriend? Dude, you wish.” Oh no.

“Excuse me?” Ben asked. “I don’t think I heard you quite right.”

“Of course you didn’t, cause you’re an old, fucking —”

Ben’s hands went into fists, and you felt him start to push past you, but you stopped him by pressing a firm hand on his chest, which was starting to get unbelievably hot. “Let’s go sit down. Annie just texted me asking me where we are.”

The drinks that the bartender made you and Ben got slid toward you, and you picked them up, attempting to hand a glass for him to hold to replace one of his fists. “Don’t wanna worry her now would we?” Ben said, his voice still full of anger, but it was attempting to sound calm.

“You’re pissed at me aren’t you?” Ben asked, as the two of you started making your way toward the table.

“Why do you think I’m pissed at you?” You questioned.

“Because I didn’t let you handle that yourself,” he answered. “I know you’re all about feminism or whatever, but I didn’t like the way he was talking to you.”

“I admit what you did was slightly more alpha than I would have liked but, I’m not remotely pissed at you,” you told him. “It was kinda…hot actually,” you confessed. “I’m just more intrigued by the choice of words you used.”

“What words?” He raised a brow, the two of you stopping in your tracks mere feet away from the table.

“The fact that you called me your girlfriend,” you said. “You could have just said friend, but you choose to use the word girlfriend.”

“Jesus Christ,” he rolled his eyes. “We are not having this conversation now.”

“But you can grope me in a crowded bar?” You asked, cocking your head.

“That’s different,” he said.

“H-okay, I’m not gonna touch that. But seriously? I think we should really talk about this at some point because you’ve been doing that a lot lately,” you said.

“Doing what?” It was his turn to cock his head, and look at you with slight confusion.

“Calling me your girlfriend,” you stated.

He rolled his eyes again. “Tell me one time before this time that I called you my girlfriend.”

“Literally yesterday,” you responded all too quickly.

“Because some creep was hitting on you. To be fair, you call me your boyfriend,” he said, trying to turn this conversation in his favor somehow.

“I have never once called you my boyfriend,” you stated.

“You did. Yesterday when you were on the phone with your mom,” he told you.

“A conversation that I told you not to listen in on might I add,” you retorted.

“Okay, that’s besides the point. Point is —”

“Look, I’m gonna make this simple. Do you want me to be your actual girlfriend or not?” You asked bluntly, cutting him off.

“What?” He asked, for some reason acting like he was confused.

"I'm tired of beating around the bush okay? We like fucking, we already live together, and we genuinely like spending time with each other. So, why not just make things official?" Ben knew that you had a point. "So, do you want to be my boyfriend or not?"

"Yes," he replied, sounding slightly annoyed.

"What?" You asked, sighing.

"I wanted to be the one to ask," he mumbled.

"Fucking Christ," you mumbled.

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redheadspark · 1 month

Text

Never Ever

Summary - Azriel consols his son after a nightmare.

A/N - This is part of the Ocean Eyes Series

Azriel has gown accustom to the quiet in Velaris.

The little home out in the countryside was especially quiet, with the moon hanging high in the sky amongst the clouds and the grass softly swaying in the wind, Azriel loved this kind of quiet. He was accustomed to frogs bellowing from the river not too far away, or the faint hum of fireflies that were dancing along the tops of the herbs in the garden behind the cottage. He was used to it now, and he would prefer this over the sterile silence of the Illyrian camps or even in the city of Velaris.

This was one of the very few nights he was home. Most of the time he would work late or until around dinner time, Rhysand needing his Spymaster duties more frequently than ever before. With the improved relationship with Autumn Court getting better by the day, Eris was still a targeting threat to Night Court. He knew that threats he had two times against Azriel and his family, so The Autumn Prince has been quiet for the last few months or so. Azriel still kept his shadows busy with intel from Eris.

He had no trust in Eris, and he wouldn’t anytime soon.

You were helping Nesta and Cassian at the House of Wind, Nesta being so close to her due date that she was restricted to her bed until it was time to give birth. Madja had to be stern with her, knowing Nesta was a stubborn fae. She was convinced though, Cassian staying by her side to give her plenty of rest and preparation for their new title bundle of joy. You were more than willing to help, making plenty of herbs for her and prepping plenty of great meals for herself and Cassian to enjoy. It meant that you were the one staying out a bit later in the night, and Azriel would be on cottage duty.

Of course, Alec missed his mother being around. When he wasn’t attending school in the mornings in Velaris, he would be at home or on a playdate with Nyx. Azriel could tell he was missing you from time to time when you’d be helping his Aunt Nesta. He was good at hiding his feelings, even with the faint signs of his shadows humming against his small backside, Alec never wanted to show that he wanted his mother. It pained Azriel to see his son trying to hide his feelings, but then again he had to do the same when he was young.

Azriel made it a point to change that with Alec.

He had finished the last of the dishes to let them air dry when he first felt it along his shadows. Movement, very close by, making him pause from his actions. It wasn’t a negative sense so to speak, but something familiar. Something warm, not a threat, and nothing dangerous. He knew that feeling, and the next thing he heard was one of the floorboards creaking from very little weight.

Lastly, he heard a sniffle. Instantly he turned, knowing who it was within an instant.

Alec, in his pajamas, and massive tears on his cheeks.

“D-d-daddy,” He hiccuped.

Azriel was gliding over within an instant and scooping him up within his arms. Alec clung to him, his face digging into his father’s neck so his father could feel the tears hitting his shirt. It broke his heart to see Alec in tears, a sweet young boy who would never hurt fly and would light up his tiresome day. Azriel also knew his heart was tender, so tender and consumed with love, so there would be times when it would break or shatter.

All Azriel could do was pick up those pieces and mend his heart.

“What’s wrong, Alec? You wanna tell me?” Azriel asked him in a soothing tone, rubbing his back with his knuckles as he walked them over to the couch to sit. Alec was hiccuping in his lap, his fingers clinging to Azriel’s shirt too tight as Azriel kept cooing at him, “I got you, okay? You’re safe with me,”

“I-I had a b-b-bad dream,” Alec mumbled into his shirt, sniffling a bit.

“I’m sorry, buddy. Nightmares are simply scary dreams. But that’s all they are: dreams. Nothing real, okay?” Azriel reminded his son, who nodded his head rapidly as he moved his head to look up at his other. His bright eyes were almost illuminated, and the tears on his cheeks were evident.

“I didn’t l-l-like the dream though, Daddy,” he explained, Azriel hummed and pushed his tears away gently with his thumbs.

“I know you didn’t, buddy. You wanna tell me about it?” He asked his son, he bit his lower lip for a brief moment as his father waited patiently. It was one of the traits Ariel loved about his son: always in deep thought.

“You and momma weren’t there,” Alec explained, Azriel watching his son’s piercing blue eyes start to mist again as he was looking at his fingers that were fiddling in his lap, “I was lost and I tried to find you, and momma. But I couldn’t find you, and I..I g-g-ot—“

Azriel tucked him into a hug again as Alec sniffled and blinked out a few more tears. Azriel knew his son loved being around his parents, he had a sense of safety with you and Azriel. It was one of the main goals Azriel had: to make his son feel loved and safe. It wasn’t that Alec was insanely introverted, he had friends at his school and a wonderful relationship with his cousin Nyx. Alec would rather be around his big loving family than anywhere else. The last thing Azriel would ever want is for his son to not feel safe at any time.

“My sweet boy,” Azriel hummed into his son’s hair while he rubbed Alec’s back soothingly with the tips of his fingers, “You should never be afraid of being alone. You will never be alone, okay? Your momma and I will never ever leave you alone,”

Azriel heard his son sniffle a bit, then pausing before speaking in a mere murmur, “Never?”

He had to smile against his son’s black locks, hearing the small inkling of hope in his son’s tone, “Never ever. You’re our son, Alec Rhysand, and we love and adore you too much to leave you alone,”

It seemed to do the trick since Azriel could no longer hear Alec crying or sniffling too much. But he was still holding onto his father, not as tightly but possessively. He finally sat back up, Azriel seeing how he was a bit calmer and sleep was evident on his face and under his eyes. He grinned, “How about I tuck you back into bed, okay?”

“Mmkay, and daddy?” Alec asked tentatively.

“Yeah, Alec?”

“I miss momma,”

Azriel heard the pain in his voice from those three words, which broke his heart a bit. He knew Alec loved his mother and wanted to be around her constantly. You were an exceptional mother to Alec, you knew just how to shower him with love and still be firm at the same time when it was needed. But the best thing that you did, in Azriel’s opinion at least, was make Alec feel like the most important Illryian throughout the land.

It was as if you were born to be a mother. Azriel firmly believed that.

“I know, buddy. I miss her too,” Azriel agreed, standing up with Alec in his arms as Alec’s head was snuggled on his shoulder with his eyes blinking slowly and a yawn on his lips, “However, if I know your momma, she should be back very soon. But right now she’s helping Aunt Nesta, remember?”

“Helping her before she has the baby?” Alec asked as Azriel walked down the hallway back to Alec’s little bedroom.

“That’s right. Your momma wants to help her before the baby comes, and that means she has to be away for a bit. But not forever,” Azriel reassured his son as he made it to the door that was left ajar that led into Alec’s room.

“I hope not forever,” Alec mumbled, yawning again as Azriel chuckled and poked his head into the small room. Alec’s bed was tucked against the wall and by a window that looked out into the open meadow, Velaris not too far away along with the massive mountains. His dresser was in the closet that had his clothes and small trinkets sitting on the top. The walls were painted in tints of purple and blue to reflect the night sky, all thanks to Aunt Feyre, and plenty of toys that were tucked into a beautiful wooden toy chest with his name engraved on the top, a generous gift from his Uncle Rhysand.

Azriel walked his son across the room, dodging the wooden sword that Alec got as a Winter Solstice gift from Cassian last year and then placing his son back in bed. Alec snuggled into the bed as Azriel tucked the blanket up and around his arms. Azriel could see that he was beyond sleepy, rubbing his eyes with his fingers and trying to stay awake as his head was sinking into the plush pillow, “Tomorrow we can go to the harbor. You, me, and momma. How does that sound?”

Alec lit up a bit from the suggestion, his smile infectious as he nodded his head, “Mmkay, Daddy. I wanna get a present for Nesta’s baby too,”

“You want to get a gift?” Azriel asked, almost in a bit of shock as Alec nodded his head again.

“Mmhmm. Maybe a stuffy like my owl, so that if the baby gets sad, the stuffy will help,” He suggested, his voice showing signs of slumber and his eyes starting to drift close with ease. Azriel was immensely proud of his son, seeing how big his heart was even when he was missing his mother and experiencing a nightmare.

“That sounds like a great idea, Alec. Now, let’s get some sleep, okay? I’ll make sure momma comes in to give you a kiss when she gets home, okay?” Azriel asked him as Alec held his stuffed owl in his tiny arms.

“Okay, Daddy. Night night,” Alec replied, letting out one more big yawn before his eyes drifted closed.

“Goodnight, buddy. I love you,” Azriel hummed against his head, pressing one more kiss against his dark locks. He then got up from the bed, about to walk out of the bedroom and close the door behind him when he heard a soft sound from the bed.

“Love you too, daddy,”

Azriel turned back and looked, seeing Alec drifting back to sleep with a soft smile. Once again, Azriel had to pause and drink in his life: to anyone else, it would be seen as mundane or ordinary. Not to him, not to the Spymaster who went through torment and pain as a youngster and always had to have people arm's length away. He saw death head-on and fought back, he’s seen fae and other beings die around him as he went on, and he always assumed he wouldn’t have a simple life or that the simple life would fulfill him.

He was wrong. This life was the only life he would ever want and need.

As he turned off the light and closed the door, with the moonlight dancing along his son’s sleeping face, Azriel considered himself a lucky Illryian for this life. He no longer had to rely on fear or brutality as other Illryians did, nor did he have to be uncertain if he would ever be happy. He was beyond happy, happy with a mate who loved him with all his flaws, happy that he had a found family who brought him out of darkness and doubt, and most importantly, happy with his son who saw Azriel as his world and more.

The next morning Azriel noticed that your side of the bed was still untouched, which made him slightly panic. But your jacket was hung on the back of a chair, as well as your messenger bag you would take. That made him confused as he got up from bed and ruffled his hair. Anytime either one of you would come in late, you would notify each other. Azriel couldn’t recall hearing you whisper to him last night or getting a kiss on the cheek, yet your things were in the room.

He poked his head into Alec’s room, seeing an adorable and loving sight as you cradled your son in your arms and the pair of you sleeping in Alec’s bed. Your wings drooped over the side of the small bed, Alec snoring away as his head was on your chest fast asleep while you too were in deep sleep with your arms tucked around him. With the early morning sun rays dancing in the room to brighten the space, it felt peaceful and almost tranquil in a way.

Azriel had to grin: the two most important beings in his life were sleeping together.

The End.

tagged - @valeridarkness @impossibelle @acourtofbatboydreams @prettylittlewrites @fxckmiup

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webslingingslasher · 3 months

Note

Not to be annoying but I rlly hope u write some kind of blurb for the jealous frat!Peter when someone flirts w reader after they are officially boyfriend girlfriend bc u wanna assess what kind of relationship they'll have after all the emotional trauma and angstttttt (idk if u got my first ask though)

*cleaning out my inbox*

kisses scattered across your face woke you up, hair tickled your nose, and you showed you were awake by lightly pushing on peter’s shoulder. it's just too early.

'can't snooze me, trouble. you're the one that told me to wake you up.' another round of kisses, your wake up call isn't that terrible. 'c'mon, up and at 'em. you've got a midterm to study for, leslie's waiting for you.'

his reasoning doesn't make you move any quicker, it was on leslie for choosing saturday morning as peak study time. you weren't even able to hang at the party last night, instead you hunkered down in peter's room and lightly woke when he crawled into bed around one to tug you into his side.

'it's so early.' peter pouts against your cheek, 'you'll survive. you've been putting in overtime this week. i swear that you've hung out with leslie everyday.' it's true, and like peter said before your first study session 'you'll feel your brain grow, super proud of you.' there's no question you'll ace the midterm.

'promise me you'll let me sleep in tomorrow?' a flurry of kisses, you savor them, you know it's the last attack of the day. 'you got it.'

---

peter thought you could use a little pick me up, so, he gladly walked into the library doors with your favorite fast food. it might've been slightly selfish, because he knows he just won himself some brownie points.

it took him a minute, but he found you. back in the study section, lightly kicking your feet under the table. you were nodding your head while chewing on the end of your pen, peter's heart picked up; he couldn't wait to see the look on your face.

you laugh, he smiles. peter moves around a bookcase and comes to a sudden stop. sitting right next to you, was a guy. he had your total attention, no other sign of people around you, peter couldn't even try to pretend it had turned into a last minute group session.

peter finds it hard to swallow, it's not that you're not allowed to hang out with guys, it's the fact that you lied about it. was there ever a leslie, or was it code for this guy the whole time?

the answer will be in your reaction, and he's about to catch you. you don't see him coming, your eyes flash to the bag on the table then to the hand setting it down. you almost burst at the seams, a surprise visit and your favorite food.

'peter!' you wince at your tone, a nasty look from the table next to you gets a silent apology. 'what are you doing here?' you're already digging through the bag, you miss the inspection he's doing on your study partner. you also miss the way he's avoiding peter's eyes.

'just wanted to say hi,' you chew on a fry and hold your mouth closed while you pucker, a chaste kiss. 'hi.' you swallow and tap on the arm next to you, peter follows the motion closely. 'have you met peter yet?'

'uh, no.' he scoots closer to the table, you shrug and look up at peter. he has his focus on leslie, it seems more intimidating than friendly. when your study buddy looks to you for help, peter loses it.

'trouble? wanna come talk to me for a minute?' you frown, your fries are at the perfect temperature. 'but, you-' the look in peter's eyes tells you he isn't playing, a sense of urgency has you scooting your chair back.

the second you're ducked behind a shelf, it spits out. 'who the fuck is that?' peter's tone has you drawing your head back, it's sudden and aggressive. 'who, leslie?' he laughs, 'nice try, who is he?'

it feels accusatory, you take a slight step back. 'that's leslie, peter.' he snorts, 'and you left out the fact he's a guy?' the reason for his sudden change makes you feel dirty, you don't like how he's directing his words.

'i didn't feel like it had to be spesified.' peter nods sarcastically, 'so i tell you i'm hanging out with... jordan, and i've been around them for hours a day, for the entire week then you find out it's a chick and you wouldn't mind? not even a little bit?'

'it depends on what you're doing with her.' a dry laugh, 'you knew exactly what the fuck you were doing with that name shit. don't stand here and tell me i'm the idiot.'

he's making you feel sad, you don't understand how peter could think of you like that. 'i don't understand why you're so upset.' peter tugs at his snapback, scratching at his curls, he replaces it.

'because you're my fucking girlfriend.'

your arms cross, 'so i can no longer hang out with any other guy?' maybe you were being a little difficult, but he's the one that implied you were cheating, or at the very least capable of it.

'jesus christ, that's what you jump to? no, honey-' the name sounded sour, '-it's the fact that you knew i'd think he was a girl and you didn't try to change that.'

'i don't see why it matters.' peter feels like he's talking in circles and he really wants to break from the conversation because he can feel his frustration building, he's about to start saying things he'll regret.

'it doesn't!' you pull on his arm with wide eyes, your head spins to look around. peter brings himself to a whisper shout, 'it doesn't fucking matter, but it starts to matter when you lie to me.'

'don't make it seem like i'm cheating on you.' you tried to ease him down, like the two had nothing in common. it was the wrong choice of words, a fire blazed in peter's eyes. you stepped back when peter pointed a finger at you, for once, he's making you feel really small.

'you're the one who brought up cheating. go back to your fucking friend, i'm done.'

you try to grab onto his wrist, but peter shakes you off like you're nothing. 'peter,' he has no interest in what you have to say, you can't follow him, he's too quick. 'peter!'

when he's out of sight you look down at the ground and sigh. peter was right, you knew what you were doing by alluding to the fact leslie was a girl. and peter doesn't care when you hang out with other guys, but because you left that part out, you've been lying by omission and it makes everything seem worse than it is.

you just don't know what he meant by 'i'm done,' and you really hope it just pertains to the conversation. either way, you shuffle back to your table with a tail between your legs and hope to god peter would let you apologize.

---

gentle knocks at the frat door, you were scared that if you gave peter a heads up, he'd bolt.

'uh oh, you're in trouble.' ethan has a smug look, it tells you that he's been preparing for you to show up. 'how much?' you need to know your chances before you can think of your plea bargain.

ethan wavers, 'he was... upset.' you hold your face between your hands as you slide in, mumbling out a 'fuck,' before building confidence to move up the stairs.

you lightly tap on your boyfriend's door, when there's no response you slowly twist the door knob. peter's lying on his bed, ankles crossed while a book covers his face.

'peter?' the door clicks shut. you timidly step forward, 'petey?' nothing from him, just a slight adjustment and he's back to reading. 'did we break up?'

the book drops, you're looking right at him. 'no, we didn't break up.' you can breathe a little bit better even if he went back to glaring at words, the main anxiety was flushed. 'okay, good.' you reach the end of his bed, rubbing at his shin you try to soften him up.

'i love you.' peter has a very unimpressed glance when you capture his total attention by taking a seat, pushing into his thighs. 'i don't know why i didn't tell you leslie was a guy, i mean, i honestly forgot but when you started saying she... i didn't correct you.' your fingers twiddle with the band of his watch, 'and i don't know why, i guess i wasn't thinking about it like that. but yeah, i'd feel a bit cheated if you did the same to me.'

'you keep saying cheat.'

cheating is almost number one in things you should never do to your partner, but for some reason, it really hits something in peter. just saying the word, out of context, has him pulling from your touch.

'peter, c'mon, stop it. you know what i mean. i'd never, ever cheat on you. i love you too much. i was on the spot and i thought you were implying i was cheating, and i was trying to say i wasn't cheating but then i think you took that as a guilty conscious coming forward and admitting i was cheat-'

'please stop saying cheating. please.'

you hold your mouth shut, a sheepish look crosses over your face. 'sorry.' it comes out as a mumble, it's an uncomfortable silence. you don't really know what to say, or do. you smash repetitive clicks on the side button of peter's watch, when you take a peek, he's watching your hands.

you're really trying, but you need to wash away any idea of it from his head. 'it's just that i never want you to think i'm cheating-' you're shocked into silence when peter rips his arm from you.

'fucking quit it with the cheating, trouble.' you open and close your mouth like a guppy, nothing sounds right. 'i know you don't like it, but i just need you to know that me hiding that leslie was a guy didn't mean i was trying to-'

'say cheat one more time, i fucking dare you.'

you stay silent. 'i don't know how to fix it, peter. i'm sorry i lied, and i’m sorry i keep saying the 'c' word.' you jump at peter's stage claps, you never knew how sarcastic a noise could sound.

'there we go! that was hard, huh?' it leaves a bad taste in your mouth, you frown at him. 'you don't need to be so condescending.' peter snorts, 'and you don't need to be lying about girls who are guys that wanna fuck you.'

you freeze on the spot, pushing the words out like they'll make you puke if you think too hard about them. 'leslie doesn't want to fuck me.' peter nudges your back with his knee, 'you're cute.'

you shake your head, 'i mean it. he knows you're my boyfriend, i talk about you all the time.'

'that's so cute, you're so cute.' you push his arm, 'i mean it, peter! i promise he wants nothing to do with me, he even told me he likes someone else.'

peter plays along for the sake of it, 'oh, yeah? he does? let me guess... it's someone you know.' you light up, 'yes! he wouldn't tell me if we were friends, but he said i know her!'

'right, right. and she's super pretty, right? maybe a little outgoing?' it's impressing how well peter knows this. 'yes-' peter keeps going, 'maybe intimidating because she'd never notice him? and how she might not be into a guy like him?'

peter's ticked every single box; your eyebrows furrow, a supercut of every moment you've had with your study partner runs through your mind. you see where you've been dumb on hints, and how you very much are... the girl you know.

'and that might be because she...' you fill in the blanks with shame, 'has a boyfriend.' it's muttered in a deep tone, pitch mocking peter's next words.

a brew of frustration, not on peter, but on men in general. you can't even study without being hunted? and why the fuck does peter know the game so well?

'this is bullshit! what the fuck is your problem?' you stand and glare down at peter, demanding him to answer on behalf of the world's male population. peter holds a hand on his chest, 'what the fuck is my problem? i don't know, what did i do?'

'you!' you point at him, again, a placeholder for all feminine rage. 'you fucking- you're a... you're a man and you suck and why am i constantly fucking sexualized? all i wanted-' you suck in for air, you don't know why you feel a lump in your throat, is this something really worth crying over? yes.

'all i wanted was a friend.' no tears, you're full of anger again. who does that to a person? 'and the whole time i'm being baited? i just wanted to pass my fucking class, peter! i wanted to do it without your help and the second i don't have a fucking man tied to my hip, i'm being plotted against?'

'trouble,' peter's heart hurts and you can hear it.

'no! it's so unfair, and it's unfair that you'll never understand it. it's unfair that i have to live my entire life afraid of what's behind my shoulder. it's unfair that i can't be left alone. even when i make it clear i already have the person i want. it's just-'

you sink next to peter, he sits up to hug you. 'unfair. it's really, really unfair and i'm sorry i can't relate or understand. i'm sorry you thought you had a friend, i'm sorry you feel like you can't relax, and i'm sorry i rubbed it in your face.'

he did rub it in your face.

'you have plenty of guy friends with good intentions that would do anything to keep you out of harm's way. that includes calling out other guys that may not have them, but i could've been nicer. i'm sorry i'm just a man sometimes. i'll work on it, i promise.'

you melt into his touch, peter is very much just a man sometimes. but he's your man and always good at calling himself out when he needs it. 'is that why you thought i cheated on you?'

'the next time you say cheat, you owe me twenty bucks.' you ignore the quip, 'is it?'

peter scoffs as he rubs your back. 'i didn't think you were cheating, trouble. i was upset that my girlfriend was lying about who she was hanging out with.' a slew of kisses to your hairline follow.

'and maybe a little jealous.' you laugh, there's nothing for him to be jealous over, but he's super serious and pulls away to cup your face so you're looking right at him.

'because you're my baby, and i need it to stay that way.'

#frat!peter drabbles

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macfrog · 11 months

Text

moneyball cowboy like me chapter four

part iv of dbf!joel is yours!!! check out my masterlist to find the first three chapters for all your dbf needs. as always, thank you all so much for all the love n support. you guys make writing this series so much fun!! 🤍 i lowkey don't know whether or not i hate this chapter but i had to write it once the idea was in my head 🤷‍♀️ enJOY

pairing: dbf!joel x fem!reader

summary: when joel double-books you and your dad, you decide to teach him a lesson

warnings: 18+ minors dni!!! oral (f receiving), praise kink, lotsa teasing, lil bit of bratty reader, lil bit of dom!joel, age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), consumption of alcohol, cursing

word count: 4.2k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

You raise your eyebrows at Joel innocently as you push the popsicle deep into your mouth, sucking as far as the back of your throat will allow, before dragging it back out with a pop. A thread of sweet, fruit-flavored saliva strings between the tip of the popsicle and your bottom lip as you pull it away. You run your tongue slowly over your lips and smile at him. He looks pissed. He can’t take his eyes off of you, or your swollen lips, but he looks ready to snap. “I found snacks, by the way,” you lull.

How slutty is too slutty? When you’re going over to your dad’s best friend’s to…Well, you’re not quite sure what yet. You’ve picked out a short blue summer dress, strappy back, with black lace panties underneath. If you’re looking, and the light is right, you can see them through the blue fabric.

Joel would, you know that much. That’s all you really care about.

You’re putting earrings on in the mirror when your dad knocks and edges into your room.

“Where you headed, kiddo?”

“Just out for a drink with Sam. Said we’d have a catch-up at the barbecue, so.”

He narrows his eyes.

“It’s not a date.”

“Hey,” he lifts his hands, “I didn’t say anything. When will you be home?”

“Dunno. Why?”

“I’ll be at Joel’s, so remember your key. Just in case.”

Excuse me? Did he just say –

“Joel’s?”

He nods, sitting down on your bed behind you. You stare at him in the mirror.

“What’s happening at Joel’s?”

“Rangers game. He’s having Bill and Hank and me.”

Just then, your phone buzzes. You subtly lean over and catch a glimpse of the screen before it fades to black again.

Joel: Call me when you’re alone. ASAP

You roll your eyes and let out a low sigh.

“Can you give me a sec, Dad? I think I wanna change my outfit.”

“Sure. I’ll give you a holler when I’m leavin’.”

He shuts your door behind him and you wait until you hear his footsteps recede to call Joel.

“Hey, baby, listen, I’m gonna have to raincheck.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. Something’s come up.”

“Right.” Your tone is muted and flat. On purpose. Joel notices.

“So…we’ll figure somethin’ out, right? You workin’ much this week?”

You scoff. “I dunno, depends on when the next Rangers game is, doesn’t it?”

He’s quiet for a moment. Then he takes a deep breath. “Kid, I’m so sorry–”

“Here I am,” you throw your arms up and march around your room, though you know he can’t see you, “getting ready, putting together the sluttiest-within-reason outfit I own, and all the while you’re gearing up to host my dad and your buddies.”

“…You’re wearing somethin’ slutty?”

“Not anymore,” you huff as you pull the dress off. “I’m changin’ into sweatpants.”

“If it’s any consolation, I’d still be into you in the sweatpants.”

“Shut up.”

He laughs. “I will have them out and gone as soon as the game’s done, and then you can come over, okay? Sound good?”

“And you’ll make it up to me?”

“I intend to.”

“’kay. Just know you’re gonna pay for this.”

He says through a chuckle, “See you later, baby.”

You hang up.

You rake through your drawers for something a little more comfortable to wear, settling for a floral skirt and off-shoulder top. Equal parts casual and suggestive. Perfect for payback.

Joel knows he’s gonna pay. He just doesn’t know when.

“Hey, hon, that’s me headin!” your dad calls up the stairs.

“Wait up!” you reply, grabbing your shoes and hopping out of your room. “I’m comin’.”

“You want a ride to Frank’s?”

“No, I’m coming to Joel’s.”

He watches you struggle down the stairs with one shoe on, brows furrowed. “You wanna…come watch the game? What about Sam?”

“He just cancelled.”

Your dad looks tickled. “Cheatin’ on ya, is he?”

You stand straight, finally having pulled your shoe on, and punch his arm. “I’ll be in the car.”

“Alright…” he mumbles, following you out.

----------

Joel’s face when he opens the door is a picture you never want to forget.

“Hey– I – did not know you were comin’.” He ushers you both in.

“Neither did I,” your dad replies, “she decided last minute. Blew off some date with that boy from Frank’s for this.”

“It was not a…” Your sentence ends with a sigh as you follow him inside, looking up at Joel as you pass. He knows damn well you didn’t even have plans with Sam, never mind a date.

“Big Rangers fan?” Joel calls from behind as the three of you head for the living room.

“Yes,” you reply, trying to sound as matter-of-fact as possible.

“Big enough to schedule a date during the game?”

“I’m sure I’m not the first to do that,” you hiss through your teeth, and he gives you an amused grin.

Bill and Hank haven’t arrived yet. Your dad sits in his usual recliner seat and sighs. You and Joel share the couch, where he turns on you to interrogate you more.

“So, what’s with the change of heart?”

“I, uh…I didn’t know it was this game.”

“And what game’s that?”

“The…Uh…You know. Rangers.” You shrug.

“Name three players.”

“That’s sexist,” you reply, pointing a finger at him.

Your dad cackles, rocking back and forth in the chair. “Beers, Joel?”

“In the fridge,” Joel answers, eyes still on you.

Your dad, who’d be oblivious to a hurricane outside if it weren’t for the warnings on the news, waltzes past the pair of you, locked in a death stare.

“You’re here to cause tr–”

“Trouble, yeah.” You flash him an innocent smile. “You caused it first.”

The doorbell rings and Joel doesn’t move, eyes still dancing all over your body; your shoulders, your hips, your thighs peeking through the slit in your skirt.

Your dad calls through from the kitchen, offering to get it, and you hear the rumble of Hank and Bill’s voices.

When Joel’s eyes meander back up to meet yours, a dangerous look in them, he leans in close. You tilt your jaw to allow him access, but his lips never touch you.

Breath hot on your skin, his Southern drawl whispers, “I started it, and I know how to finish it, pretty girl.”

Then he stands and heads to the hallway to meet his guests. You clamp your legs together.

Bill roars your name when he sees you. “I didn’t fuckin’ know you liked the Rangers!”

You stand and nervously accept his arms over your shoulders, squeezing you so tight it takes your breath away. Joel stifles a laugh in the doorway.

“I just wanted to be around for all the fun,” you almost gasp when he releases you.

Hank is older and smaller in frame, and he gives your hand a little squeeze as he passes by to the couch. “We’re up for it tonight, kiddo,” he smiles sweetly, “it’ll be a good’un.”

“Bill, beer? Hank?”

“Bourbon for me, Joel. Brought my own bottle.” He hands it over.

As your dad squeezes past to join his friends, Joel clicks his fingers at you and jerks his head toward the kitchen. Your jaw falls open with mock offense.

“Dick,” you whisper as you pass.

“Needed help from my waitress with the drinks,” Joel murmurs with a smirk, the two of you heading through.

He opens the fridge and reaches up to grab three beers – Buds, you notice – from the top shelf. His shirt lifts a sliver from the waistband of his jeans, exposing the tan skin beneath.

Your head cocks as you stare at him, gripping onto the worktop, probably more to stop yourself from approaching him than to look casual. But when Joel turns back around, he reads you like an open book.

“Quit starin’,” he mutters, nudging you to shift out of his way.

You don’t budge, so Joel shifts further up the counter. When you slide up to follow him, pinning yourself between him and the marble surface, he scoffs.

“Stop that,” he whispers.

“Stop what? Thought you knew how to finish this?”

“Alright,” he hums, arms reaching around yours to crack the beers open in front of you. Your back is flush against his chest.

“Then,” he mumbles, chin hooked over your shoulder, “we take this,” he reaches for a whiskey glass and Hank’s bottle of Yellow Rose, sliding them over in front of you with one hand. He takes your hands in his, using you like a puppet to pour Hank’s drink.

You can’t help but giggle as his stubble grazes your cheek.

When you turn your head to look at him over your shoulder, you feel an unmistakable swell behind your ass. Joel’s breath falters for a brief second.

You want more. To be frank, you’d take him here and now if it weren’t for his buddies in the next room. But this isn’t about what you want right now. Not yet.

You push off the counter gently, your ass touching Joel’s crotch, grinding into him. His jaw tightens, teeth lock together, and he emits a low growl. He doesn’t move; just stands with his arms around you, hands gripping the worktop, holding you in place as your hips rut on his hardening bulge.

The TV is switched on and you hear a familiar commentator’s voice.

“Joel!” your dad yells from the living room.

“Had your fun?” he grumbles in your ear.

You shake your head. “Not yet.”

He moves his arms then, letting you go, taking his and Bill’s beers and Hank’s bourbon, and backs away. His eyebrows are cocked, and you can’t help the grin that spreads across your face.

You watch him until he disappears into the living room, and snap out of your daze. I’m not here to be wooed by him.

I’m here to make him finish what he started.

When you enter the living room, beer in hand, all four men are literally on the edge of their seats, as far forward as they can get without actually sliding off of Joel’s couch.

You notice a space between Joel and Hank, and slip between the coffee table and Hank’s legs. He moves back to allow you the space to squeeze by and slot in on Joel’s left.

As you fall down into your seat, all eyes glued on the TV screen, your right hand comes up to balance yourself – Who are you kidding? – on Joel’s thigh. The inside of Joel’s thigh.

His head jerks down to stare at your fingers, locked around his leg. Checking nobody’s looking, you move it slightly upward. Closer to his –

“What are you doin’?” he whispers through gritted teeth, low enough that the other men don’t hear.

“Watchin’ the game,” you reply, innocent and sweeter than sugar.

His free hand takes hold of yours and slides it off of his thigh without looking, eyes always on the room around him.

You breathe a laugh as he readjusts in his seat, sitting up awkwardly straight and keeping his legs a safe distance away, parallel to yours.

You’re just getting started.

----------

Let’s be frank about it: baseball is fucking boring.

Well, let’s rephrase. It’s not that you don’t like watching it; you’re sure that, in more appropriate circumstances – relaxing on a lazy Sunday, or at an actual game, where the atmosphere buzzes with excitement – you could enjoy it.

But right now, you’re sat with your dad’s buddies, an ache between your legs that you can’t fix, and the only person who can fix it, is refusing to even look at you.

Given the situation at hand, you can’t really fault him for that. But you’re still a little mad.

When they roar at the screen for what feels like the thousandth time, you decide to take yourself for a quiet jaunt to the kitchen.

“You got snacks?” you ask Joel.

“Cupboard above the microwave,” he replies, gaze locked on the game.

You saunter out of the living room, finishing the dregs of your beer, and place the bottle in Joel’s sink.

Reaching up to search his cupboards, you find one bag of Cheetos and another bag of pretzels. You toss them both on the counter, and they land a little bit away from Hank’s bottle of bourbon.

You pick it up, reading the label. You’ve never really been much of a whiskey drinker, but you’re bored, and it’s here, so you may as well.

You pour a little into the bottom of a glass and lift it to your lips, giving it a good sniff before you take a sip. Your face screws up immediately, swallowing just to get the liquid off of your tongue, feeling it burn its way down your throat.

“You okay in there, kiddo?” your dad calls, hearing your coughing, and you splutter a “Yep!” in response.

Would it taste better with ice, you think? Maybe if you could get used to it, it wouldn’t be that bad. You amble over to Joel’s refrigerator and haul the freezer door open, in search of ice cubes, but finding something even better.

You lift the box, sliding one of them out and unwrapping it. When you knock the freezer door closed with your hip, you strut through to the living room and stand behind the couch in the doorway.

No one notices you sneak in; they’re all waving their fists and yelling curses at the TV.

“What’s goin’ on?”

Four heads turn to give you an update on the game, and three hastily turn back when the crowd suddenly begins cheering.

One head, though, whips straight back to you. Stood in his living room doorway. Sucking on a popsicle.

He looks pissed. He can’t take his eyes off of you, or your swollen lips, but he looks ready to snap.

“I found snacks, by the way,” you lull.

“Yeah? Good.” He twists back around to face the television, a hand running across his jaw. He shuffles in his seat again, just as awkward as he is uncomfortable.

You let out a quiet giggle and meander gleefully back through to the kitchen.

Not long after, you’re at Joel’s counter eating some of his pretzels when he and your dad stalk through, followed by Bill and Hank.

“Game over?”

“No, kid,” Bill chuckles, “seventh-inning stretch.” He yanks open Joel’s refrigerator and takes three more beers, passing them around.

He perches on a bar stool next to you, bringing a hand down on your back – loving, of course, but in typical Bill nature, kinda painful.

“We ain’t doin’ too bad,” Hank muses as he pours another whiskey, and your dad nods silently.

Your eyes flit between the men, now deep in conversation about the game, then land on Joel, leaning against the doorframe sipping on a beer, his eyes on you.

You lean over the counter, popping your ass out, and make him watch as you open your mouth, extend your tongue, and place a salty pretzel on it, closing your lips around your finger and licking it clean.

His expression never changes. Just watches like you want him to, beer bottle clutched in his fist.

“I’ll take these.” Bill’s hand swings across and scoops up the Cheetos, and before you know it, they’re making their way back out of the kitchen.

Joel’s eyes bore into yours as your dad, Bill, and Hank filter out past him. He’s mad, you can tell that much. He paces over to you.

“Knock. It. Off.” His voice is a low growl.

You shake your head. “No can do.”

He sighs, gripping your wrist. Before you can take a breath, he’s dragging you out of the kitchen and upstairs, where he makes a right and almost shoves you down the dim hallway.

“The hell is your game?” he hisses when you’re out of earshot of the others.

“Having fun, what are you doing?”

“I’m trying to keep everybody from seeing the fun you’re having. Touchin’ and rubbin’, lookin’ at me like that in front of everyone. The damn popsicle.”

“You liked that, huh?”

“You gettin’ off on this?”

“Mhm.” You nod a little too desperately.

“Well, quit it. When we’re alone, fine, do whatever you want. Not when your dad’s watchin’.”

“My dad ain’t seeing none of it and you know it.”

He runs a hand through his hair and brings it down over his eyes. Seeing him this stressed and undone over you, over what you’re doing to him, sends pulses of electricity through your body.

“What the hell am I gonna do with you, girl?”

You shrug. “Maybe you should punish me.”

“Maybe I fuckin’ should,” he spits, turning away from you.

As if just hearing what you said, he turns on his heel, staring you down with an expression you read to mean one thing: he’s fucking considering it.

“Maybe I fuckin’ should…” he whispers again.

You try to keep your cool façade up, but the way he’s looking at you, eyes dark, jaw clenched, towering over you and cornering you against the wall, has you so wet and needy that you can’t pretend anymore.

“Joel…”

Whatever you were about to say is cut short by the sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs. Joel reacts before you do, reaching behind you to pull a door open and backing you into his linen closet, quietly following you in and closing the door again.

There are just inches between you both, pressed chest to chest in the tiny confines of the closet. Joel’s head tilts and listens for Hank’s figure, stumbling back and forth across the landing in pursuit of the bathroom.

“Where’d you say it was, Bill?” he calls downstairs.

“First door on the right, dumbass!” Bill’s voice shouts back up.

Joel’s fist suddenly wraps around the handle, his eyes glued to the wall above your head, listening intently. He’s making sure Hank doesn’t try the wrong door.

Which, of course, he inevitably does.

It rattles some, but Joel’s grip stops the handle from turning. He glares up, shaking his head, mouthing profanities. First door, you fuckin’ moron. You stifle a laugh behind both hands.

“Hank!” your dad’s voice shouts from downstairs. “Not that one, idiot, the one next to it!”

Finally, the door stops trembling.

“I see it now, sure enough,” Hank mumbles, and you both listen to him spill into the bathroom next door.

You let out the breath you’ve been holding in your chest. Joel lifts his hand off of the door handle and places it around your jaw.

“You’re gonna be real quiet, alright?”

He’s speaking so low and so quiet that your eyes track his lips to read the words he’s saying.

“Gonna do what I say and keep that pretty little mouth shut.”

You squirm under his touch, hands gripping his shoulders, desperate for him to kiss you.

Instead, he holds your jaw tight and forces you to look at him.

“Say it.”

“I’ll be quiet,” you breathe, “I’ll be good. Just fucking touch me.”

He runs his tongue along your bottom lip then, asking it to part, and when it does, pulls you roughly against him, free hand dropping to your ass. His tongue battles strong against yours, bittersweet with the taste of beer.

You feel yourself intoxicated with the taste of him, the smell of him, the feeling as his hips purposefully rut into yours. You want him to mark you again, give you something to hide, something to make half-assed excuses over when people spot it. You want him to make you his.

You moan into his mouth, hands finding his hair, and he grips you tighter.

“Shut – the fuck – up,” he snaps between kisses.

He pauses only to listen to Hank tumble out of the bathroom and back downstairs, then gives you a peck on the lips with a cocky smile.

Suddenly he’s at your neck, lips kissing, tongue licking, teeth grazing, and then he’s making his way down, over your breasts, breath hot and unsteady on your heaving chest.

You can hear the booming laughter of the men downstairs. Their shouts and calls at the television. It all echoes up the stairs, floating in under the slit of light from the hallway outside.

Joel’s on his knees now, placing delicate kisses up your thighs. His hands pull your weight onto his shoulders, fingers taking hold of the hem of your skirt and hiking it up. When he reaches your underwear, he looks up, a dark look in his eyes. A question.

“Quiet,” you mutter, nodding, and buck your hips toward him in attempt to hurry him the fuck up.

He smirks at your neediness and kisses you over the lacey fabric of your panties. You bite your lip to keep a moan from escaping your lips. Joel’s eyebrows raise, waiting for you to make a sound. When you don’t, he pulls the fabric back.

He positions himself perfectly at your sex, pulling your thighs a little wider apart over his shoulders. Your head falls against the wall behind you, but your eyes stay locked on him, watching every little move he makes.

He starts by placing his lips against your clit gently, and your eyes roll to the back of your head. He’s soft, warm, but with a hunger for more.

He sucks there for a minute, your hips rolling against his mouth, vision becoming clouded with stars in the darkness of the closet. Your hands tease his hair, gripping and pulling harder the more pressure he applies to your core, the closer he drags you to your high.

When he pulls away, a tiny gasp passes your lips. You expect him to get mad, punish you for making noise, but he just grins to himself and dives back in.

His tongue licks along your folds and you have to bite down on your sleeve this time. It’s no use, your moan breaks free and fills the tiny space, but Joel’s groaning too as he tastes you for the second time in three days.

“So – fucking – good for me, darlin’,” he whispers when he comes up for air, then gets right back to it.

His fingers grip your thighs so tight it almost hurts, keeping you steady. His head drops a little lower, and you feel his breath across your lips.

“Joel,” you moan, and he looks up. “Need your tongue.”

When he drags it between your folds and dips ever so slightly inside you, your back arches, shoulders digging into the wall. You’re doing everything not to scream, his tongue lapping you up, nose rubbing against your clit, but you’re nearing closer and closer to your orgasm.

“Keep – going – fuck, Joel,” you breathe, eyes screwed shut, hands tangling in his hair, pulling his head closer against you.

“Shh,” he’s cooing now against your cunt, pulling a hand under your thigh to insert two fingers as his tongue massages your clit. “I know, I know,” he says, lifting his chin. “Poor baby just wanted some attention, huh?”

You smile, eyes closing in bliss as his tongue reattaches to your core. You whimper his name as your walls start to close around him.

Just then, a roar lets out from the living room, and the coil snaps. You cry out, moaning Joel’s name as you cum on his tongue, your sweet noises drowned out by the thunderous cheers from downstairs.

You swear you feel Joel smirk against your wetness as you unravel for him.

You’re panting, hands still clinging onto his hair for stability, as he pulls away from your cunt and leans back. He gently rolls your thighs off of his shoulders and helps you to stand, before his tall figure straightens up in front of you.

You instinctively grab his shirt and pull his lips against yours, wanting to taste yourself on his tongue. Joel’s breath hitches when your teeth graze his bottom lip and you pull away, releasing it.

“I fucking love this,” you mutter, and he laughs.

“Yeah? I just missed a whole inning ‘cause of you.”

“Worth it.” You smile as he opens the door, checking the coast is clear before letting you out first.

“Where the hell you two been?” your dad asks as you both rejoin the group.

“Missed one hell of a play, you pair.” Hank raises his glass toward the television.

You sit a little distance from each other on the couch, your needs fully satisfied, and Joel clears his throat.

“Was showin’ her my new six-string.”

You notice him out of the corner of your eye licking his lips. Fucker.

Your dad shakes his head with a laugh, spinning the recliner back to face the screen. “First baseball, now guitars. What has gotten into you, lately, hon?”

“Hey, Joel?” Bill sits forward, leaning over the coffee table to Joel, who lifts his head in reply. “You mind showin’ me that six-string after the game?”

You choke on your beer and Hank’s hand comes up to clap you on the back. “You alright, girl?”

“Maybe, maybe,” Joel replies, trying to ignore you, coughing and spluttering at his side.

With a few more good whacks from Hank and a clean sip of your drink, you recover just enough to join the conversation.

“It’s a really neat guitar, Bill.”

----------

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bunji-enthusiast · 2 months

Note

Scuttling back in to say;

YOU MAKE ME WANNA WRITE MORE STUFF SO BADDDDD ITS SO GOOD

Would there possibly be room for a Dogday & Catnap scenario where reader came in sick, because they simply refuse to take sick days, and those giants just hate seeing them like that and just take care/help with work?

Keep up the good work buddy, I LOVE EATING READING IT

Gentle Giants

Note || AHA- thank you!

WC || 1,152

Sypnosis || your fuzzy companion refuses to let you overwork yourself, even in sickness.

CatNap –

You had him CONCERNED, and he doesn’t feel like that rarely for anyone else. Right off the bat when you come into work he can tell you are sick, he voices his concerns with Bobby who he thought of having good advice for a situation like this. She had suggested that he help take the load off of your workload at least, as you were stubborn and proclaim you can do work all by yourself.

CatNap didn’t want you to ever accidentally hurt yourself, seeing as how you will go to every corner of the factory to get your duties done – even if you had some work to do as a caretaker, just a temporary one. He decided that he had enough of it, seeing as how you’d only get worse when you're working.

Halfway through your shift, he decided to intervene, picking you up around the waist and laying you on his back despite your many protests to leave you alone. CatNap retorted with an audible snort, refusing to relent against your words. He’s seen what happens to employees when they come in sick, not taking a sick day off. No way would he allow that to happen to you. You simply were far too precious to CatNap, you were; kind, patient and gentle with him, despite his many times that he had treated you a little… rudely.

The insomniac cat thought it would be best to bring you to his sleeping place, clean and unmarked of his scratches (though save for the few claw marks here and there against the walls). His stretchy tail had elongated far enough to pick you up by the waist again, which in hindsight did startle you a little as you had gotten used to being on his back for a long period of time. Gently, CatNap settled you on his bed, promptly laying you down in the proper position as if he had done this all before – with children, of course he’d have this experience to do so. You were tired, lethargic, simply just flopping against the orange mattress and finding comfort in how springy and just comforting it was.

Truth be told, he did admit to snatching you away. Only to another employee who asked where you were, they were understanding once he had pointed out you were sick. People needed rest after all, and the employee knew you were quite the stubborn type. CatNap had finally returned with a blanket that was draped over his shoulder, and a bucket of water he held in his mouth alongside the rotund rag that laid at the silver edge top of the bucket. He had steady motions, setting down the bucket that was hanging from his mouth beside the large mattress bed. Soon enough, he had also finally covered you with the blanket, quiet enough as to not wake you as he had seen you fall asleep in his absence.

At first, he wasn’t sure what to do with the rag, just sitting there at the top of the bucket. But soon enough he had found a solution. CatNap had found one of the brand new fresh miniature smiling critters, who was alive like he was and filled the rag with water, then laid it across your forehead.

CatNap was glad, though he knew the process of having to wet the rag over and over again as it can get dry after some time.

DogDay –

Cuddly, protective and very stern when needed. DogDay was happy at first to see you coming to work again, but overtime it became less of happiness and more so concerned as he began to realize you were most likely sick. He took his thoughts to Bubba, as he knew him to be smart and informative for the most part. Bubba had told him you just were most likely sick, knowing how you didn’t like taking sick days off even if you really truly were sick.

DogDay needed a plan, action to help lessen the load on your shoulders. He won’t stand for the fact that you are working actively while being sick at the same time, heck even a dog like him knew this! He wanted you to get some proper rest, but how was he actually gonna be able to do so? But as ever, DogDay remained to be looking on the bright side of this as he asked Bubba once again what he should do. Bubba was very smart in comparison to him, he wasn’t that well informed with sickness himself.

Bubba had suggested that he take half of your workload at least, so he went exactly to do that, people had eyed him for his weird out of place appearance outside of where one usually would find him. He didn’t really care for it, just continuing to do your work load without your knowledge. When you had gone to do your other duties, you were waved off, confused as to why – they had told you someone had already done it all for you.

You were practically already done with your work for the whole day, you had a sneaking suspicion that you knew who had done half the work load for you. When you went to confront DogDay, he had admitted under the weight of your glare, saying he had done the other 50% of your work because you were sick. You were surprised to say the least, touched at the thought he did it because he knew you were sick. But you never told him, which raised a few brows from you.

“Aha, angel.. Dogs can be good at noticing things better than humans normally do.” He said with a tinge of nervousness. You sighed, walking up to hug him despite the vast differences in size that was comparable between you and DogDay. He was elated to know you weren’t angry, bending down to hug you, finally he had you trapped. DogDay picked you up, which had elicited a yelp from you, feeling he had now carried you bridal-style.

DogDay had insisted you needed rest, taking you with him as you relented to his insistence. Truly he was a leader and a friend till the end.

Both –

When the both of them team up, there is no way you are getting away with working while you're sick. They both reassure each other what they are doing is okay, they both care about you very much. CatNap just kind of drags you away, bringing you to his bed while DogDay had walked alongside him, checking your forehead for how hot your fever may be.

Luckily, DogDay slipped away while CatNap had set you up to be in a comfortable position while you were sleeping. DogDay came back with a bucket of water and a rag to administer to keep your fever down as much as possible.

With these two, you practically have nothing to worry about.

#poppy playtime #poppy playtime x reader #poppy playtime chapter 3 #dogday poppy playtime #poppy playtime dogday #catnap poppy playtime #catnap

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