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chococolte · 2 years

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☼ — osculatus solem

my take on sagau/cult au zhongli, reactions to first meeting you/as a worshiper + reactions to being your lover

word count. 4.2k

୨୧ — ꒰ cw. yandere, unhealthy relationship, possessive & obsessive thoughts/behaviors, religious + cult themes, sagau + cult au shit, g/n reader. i do not condone yanderes irl.

୨୧ — ꒰ a/n. im sorry if tense is weird im kinda dumb lol

Zhongli has waited for you for six-thousand years.

It wasn’t until he was faced with you that he realized how cruel the wait was. Six-thousand years of patiently waiting had never felt like grueling punishment until he realized what he was deprived of. Like a man starved, he had grown used to the numbness of constant hunger— he found it almost comforting, as he had lived his entire life malnourished. He lived unaware of what it was like to have a full stomach.

Your presence is primeval. It emanates, and it overwhelms all else. When Zhongli looked into your eyes for the first time, he finally felt complete. He was finally where he was meant to be. Finally with who he was meant to be with.

The scripture had described you in detail, but there were only so many words, so many different ways to speak of you. None of them could compare to how you looked in person, standing in front of him.

Your eyes hold all the knowledge in the world. Constellations and stars shine within them, a myriad of stellar tapestries formed within the small reflective surface of your eyes. Past, present, and future dance inside, moving according to your design. You see all. You are all. Everything that is, and everything that will be, is you. Every burgeoning bud, blooming flower, roaring wave, and colossal beast; you are every death, there in every mournful cry and scornful glare; you are every mortal life and every god.

You are the sun that brings warmth to Teyvat, the moon that caresses its tides, and Zhongli wants nothing more than to worship you for it.

Zhongli was not always your devout worshiper. He was once, like all of his temperament, rebellious and spiteful. He refused to believe that all of his victories in battle had simply been part of your design. Just a single thread in your grand tapestry.

His triumphs were his, and his alone. He won by his own virtue, will, and vigor. He won by his own hand, spear, and stone. You did not aid him in his wars. You did not save anyone worth saving. Zhongli watched his allies die, slip through his fingers like grains of sand— and he would never thank you for what he endured. He promised himself that if ever faced with you and your faux benevolence, he would demand answers from you. You owed him that much. A recompense for all the hardship and injury he had sustained.

Zhongli, in his youthful hubris, did not care who heard his blasphemy, and whether they thought it distasteful or not. He was the god of war, and would allow no being to silence his voice. Zhongli bathed in his rage, wallowed in it; he would not allow himself to believe what others so easily indulged in. Ignorance led way to arrogance.

Guizhong had always been of the opinion that you were a kind, gentle god. She argued that your light could not be quantified, nor labeled; just because you did not act in ways he could see, did not mean you did not act at all. You breathed life into the abandoned, the lost— you embraced those without a home, without purpose. You forgave and you pardoned, and you rained down fury on those wicked and vile.

Zhongli had long grown used to her arguments. Every victory of theirs, despite the tight grip on his weapon and the ichor on his blade, was attributed to you— your grace, your blessings. By your grace you allowed them one more day, by your blessings you allowed them one more triumph. Zhongli thought her pitiful; you had done nothing to deserve her kindness. She worshiped you, and what had you given her in response to her devotion?

Guizhong died in his hands, and he had nothing to show for it. Helplessness ate it's way at him, through his flesh and bone. What was left was nothing more than a husk, a parody of a god. What was once anger at authority transformed into righteous anger at the one who made him. You allowed him his victories, to parade around with pride and vanity; you gave him your blessings, benediction and approval, and yet you let the one who meant the most to him die. The one who worshiped you above all else.

Why did he live over her? He did not appreciate you. He did not worship you. He made no offerings, nor did he pray. He did not believe in your salvation, neither did he ordain your will. But he was the one left behind with the sorrow and the guilt, and Guizhong was the one turned to dust. Why was he chosen?

Zhongli knew that asking questions was meaningless. You would not deign to answer. Maybe it was to be expected. Why would an Almighty God answer to a lower being demanding answers far beyond their comprehension? Why should you have to explain yourself, when you saw all? Zhongli was merely the god of Geo. You could take even that from him.

You were the God of All. The Primordial One. No being had authority over you; not even one of the Seven.

It was only in the light of Guizhong's death that Zhongli had finally begun to understand her perspective. He might’ve been alone, but that did not make you cruel. It did not mean you were unable to be kind, tender and loving. You loved as much as you breathed— the world was showered in your love for it, in the wind that caressed its people and the sea that fed them. Your love was in its bountiful harvests and its gentle rain.

You loved just as any other, but Zhongli had long refused to see it.

He started small. Gestures of devotion hidden underneath many layers of misty glass, only clear to those who looked hard enough. Zhongli had postured to those still with him that he no longer minded if they worshiped you in his presence. If he was feeling particularly daring, he would join in and mutter a small word or two of thanks. Perhaps he thought of it as a way to make up to Guizhong after so many years of his disapproval.

Though he may have found it unbearable at the beginning, he soon began to pray to you in times of need. He looked for you when he found himself in need of counsel, forgoing the people around him. He made offerings in your name when there was a drought or a shortage, praying for your guidance. Even if he did not initially believe that you would truly respond, the comfort it brought outweighed the logistics. If there was no one else he could turn to, he still had you— and you would never forsake him.

Zhongli started to find your answers in the strangest of places. An arrangement of flowers in some botanical garden of some odd scion, the conversation of two orphan boys that shed a new perspective; a tale that seemed almost catered to him told by a storyteller at a tea house. Perhaps he was imagining things— he surely would have thought so a millennium earlier. But were they truly coincidences, if they only happened after he had prayed and offered at his altar for you?

If it was the Zhongli of old, he would have said yes. But the Zhongli of new knew better now: it was you, speaking to him through indirect means. You answered his prayers and accepted his offerings. You forgave him for what he had done and the things he had said in the past.

Liyue was modeled after what Zhongli believed you favored the most. Its jagged cliffs, jeweled karsts, cuihua forests, and vibrant plant life; sculpted and molded to fit your tastes. He sometimes daydreams of showing you his life’s work— would you like it? Would you tell him he’s done a good job, that he had done enough to please you? If you found it distasteful, would you tell him why? Even if it meant tearing the land asunder and usurping the earth that tethers it to its place in the sea, Zhongli would change whatever it is you dislike immediately.

Even if the problem was himself. He would happily bow his head, whisper one last plead for forgiveness, and take his own life. If it was your will, there is nothing he wouldn't do.

When Zhongli meets the Traveler for the first time, he is frozen in place. His heart drops to his stomach as he sees the gleam of your existence in their eyes. It's you. You're here, in front of him— he wants to kneel and worship you the way he's always wanted, but…

Why is it them, and not him?

Zhongli knows he shouldn’t be jealous. It’s a blessing in the first place to meet you like this. It's a blessing to know that you're real. But he can’t stop himself from lying awake at night, thinking of what it would be like if he was the eyes through which you experienced this world.

It’s an ugly feeling. A twisted, nasty feeling. It leaves him feeling bitter in the morning and sick whenever he sees the Traveler walking through Liyue’s streets. He assists them on their quest, because you are there with them— watching him through their eyes. He hopes to leave a good impression, to assure you that there is no problem with him; perhaps, that is why you did not choose him? Because he was faulty in some form?

Hours upon hours of self-reflection spent in dark, locked rooms. Zhongli stays there, looking in mirrors, searching for reasons why. He looks at his mortal form and wonders: is this why? Did you want him to serve you as the Geo Archon for longer? Why not him?

Was he not enough? Was Liyue not enough? You are never wrong, never incorrect— the problem lies with him. But no matter how long he looks, he can't find the reason. He's better in every way. Better in his devotion for you, better in his worship— he would kneel until his knees turned raw and skin gave way to bone, he would pray and sing your praises until his throat bled. He built Liyue with earth and stone, and cracked the land until it was worthy enough of a formation, molding it with his hands to please you. He had changed himself until he was deserving of your forgiveness, until he was worthy enough to worship you.

The voice in the back of his head tells him it was because he once hated you. Once, when he was a fool and a heathen, he spat on your good name, derided it with disgust. Zhongli thought you forgave him for the sins of his past. He thought you still loved him despite it. He thought he had purified himself long ago, but perhaps he still had some rot left to root out. What part of him wasn’t perfect? What part of him wasn’t enough for you?

Zhongli knows he’s only being ungrateful. You’ve done enough for him. Who is he to demand more?

REVERENTIA ; first meeting/as a worshiper

Zhongli did not know what to do with himself when his eyes laid on your figure for the first time.

You were beautiful. Resplendent and illustrious. When you spoke, crying out so timorously, he shuddered involuntarily. He clasped a hand over his mouth in an attempt to steady his breathing, but your voice was infectious. His heart felt heavy in his chest as you looked at him with wide eyes.

Nothing could compare to your stare, to the life that swirled within your eyes.

Zhongli knelt, then, his head hitting the floor. His shoulders trembled with tension as he kept them taut and straight, keeping his posture as poised as possible.

His first words to you: "Welcome home."

Whether your reaction was volatile or not, Zhongli is at your beck and call. He waits on you hand and foot, staying by your side and keeping close. He acts as your shadow, following your orders, even simple commands, as if the result of his failure will be death. Zhongli is aware that your current form is weaker, mortal in nature; but when you ascend once more, he wants to be known as the one who never doubted you, never thought of you as lesser because of your current circumstances.

Zhongli, despite his worship of propriety, is still prone to decadence. His hands as he helps you dress linger for far longer than they should, brushing against the soft skin of your shoulders. The tips of his gloves burn from where they've touched you, and you notice him wearing them less and less often, now.

In Zhongli's eyes, you are never wrong. You stand at the pinnacle of righteousness, justice and light; anything you say is gospel. He commits all of your opinions, even of the littlest, pettiest things, to memory. His personal thoughts on the matter are meaningless, now— if you dislike it, then it's bad. Simple as that. If you find something enjoyable, then it's good. If your concept of morality is twisted and murky, then he will morph his own to match it; there is no internal struggle, no hesitation in his thoughts and behavior. Your will is all that matters.

When in your presence, Zhongli is perfect. He is courteous, gentle, and benign. He never does anything without your explicit permission. He brews you tea, and tells you anything you wish to know. He worships you with so much vigor it's hard to deny him.

Outside of it, he is barely hanging on by a thread.

Zhongli doesn't know how he lived without you before. He feels vaguely sick even thinking of going back to when you were not present. Just a moment without you is hellish. Every step away from you is like walking on scorching coal. It is an agonizing pain, one slow and tortuous.

He has never felt such pain before. The mere thought of leaving you by your lonesome sends him into a frenzy powered only by his desire to stay by you. He is willing to tear anyone apart should they stand in between him and his god. He can't leave, not when he isn't worthy of your forgiveness yet, not when you're so fragile in your current form.

Every night he rests only barely. Every morning he rises with relief, knowing that once more he is allowed to bask in your company.

Perhaps he's still driven by his insecurity, by the idea of you thinking him unworthy of you.

Zhongli speaks of your grace and elegance, of the light you inspire; he tells you how long he's worshiped you, how long he's loved you.

He tells you of his devotion, of the offerings he's left at your gilded altars, jewels and the finest riches. Zhongli brings them directly to you, now, with an uncharacteristic bashfulness.

He tells you of the wars he's fought in your name, of the blasphemers he's slaughtered— though, conveniently leaving out that he used to be one. Zhongli hopes you're proud of the things he's done in your name, that you will finally embrace him, utterly and wholly.

In the dark of the night, when doubt and searing loneliness so clearly bite at his mind, Zhongli walks to your room. He never dares to walk inside, always conscious of your privacy— but he kneels outside your doors with muted footsteps, only the soft echo of ruffling fabric to accompany him.

He mumbles into the gelid floor unintelligible prayers. He listens for your breathing, for assurance you're still within reach. His unrest is barely abated each time.

When he is particularly nervous, he stands by your doors until morning light, shoulders trembling with unease until you rise from your slumber.

Zhongli is fearful. His muscles are tense as he whispers pleadings that you stay, that you at least say goodbye, should you leave again. He fears one day he will awake and you will be gone.

He fears that he will be left alone again, once more without the tenderness of your guidance. Back to when he had thrown you away, when he only knew of bloodshed and the weight on his shoulders.

You freed him from his self-imposed shackles, whether knowingly or not.

Only when he's assured you're safe will he allow himself peace and serenity.

Only then, will he finally rest in the only paradise he wishes for: being by your side for eternity.

VENUSTUS ; as your lover

Zhongli has always loved you. By virtue of your holiness and sacred being, he has always loved you as his god. As his guiding hand and light, sculpting him into the Archon you want him to be; into a believer worthy of worshiping you.

Faced with your luminous presence, finally able to see what he has only imagined before, Zhongli's love for you only grows. It unfurls like a blossoming glaze lily, petals perfect and serene.

He would never dare presume that his feelings are returned. As his God, you are above him in every way— you are above him in every breath, every step you take. In every slight movement of your fingers, you establish the bridge between you. The line he should never cross.

You are above him. He is beneath you.

Whether it is intentional or not, Zhongli knows his place. He is grateful to be where he is, blessed enough to stand beside you in any capacity. To know that you exist would've been enough, but to care for you personally— to be the one with whom you spend the most of your treasured time with; that is an honor worth dying for.

Zhongli has played with the idea of being your consort before. Of being yours, utterly and entirely. He never lets the thought stay for long. Shame begins to eat at him all too quickly, twisting his stomach into knots of guilt and remorse. He's embarrassed more than anything; of having the gall to dare to imagine himself ever being so important to you.

The thought would've never crossed his mind before, the mere idea laughable. You were untouchable. Above even The Seven, above Celestia. You had not shown interest in any individual for a millennium, and it would be no different now.

But Zhongli knows you now. He's felt the brush of your touch, the zephyr of your breath when he leans in too close. He's felt the warmth running through your veins, the warmth that leaves him flustered, even when you've only touched him for a moment.

The thoughts come more often, now. More vivid. More apparent. You cradle him in your arms, whispering soft words of loyalty and love. You hold his hands in your own, intertwining your fingers, and tell him how you have come to love him. He is special. He alone is yours; no one else.

It terrifies him.

Zhongli is nothing more than your worshiper. He is your servant. He may have been a god, but now he is just your tool. He is content with that much. He should be content with that much. But his heart wants more from you, more than you've deigned to give him.

It wants your love. Your attention. His heart yearns to be special to you; to be the sole holder of your affection.

It's a selfish desire. A nasty one. One that he wishes he could remove, exorcise out of him like a spirit. But every attempt to carve it out of him only leaves him bleeding, and it hurts more to pretend like it doesn't exist. It burns him from the inside out, a fiery jealousy that roars whenever he sees you with another.

It should be me, his heart trembles. It should be me, his heart weeps.

Zhongli is terribly flustered when you begin to show signs of reciprocation. Small things like careful touches, honeyed tones, and words of favor. You compliment him more often, go out of your way to do things that please him; brushing and running your fingers through his hair, listening to him spin tales of old. He is aware that you must know everything already, but you look at him with such big eyes of wonder and interest he can’t help but go on.

He’s barely able to speak when you admit to him your feelings. His heart beats fast in his ears like war drums, his heartstrings tightening as if nocked by an arrow.

It's an uncharacteristic moment of timidity for the wise ex-archon. He's stammering over his words, barely able to keep up his façade of calm. Is that something you truly wish to do? With him?

You assure him— I want this, you say— and Zhongli allows himself to believe you. He follows you when you lead him by the hand into the palace of your heart. He cradles it softly in his hands, gentle and delicate. Zhongli swears to never hurt you, to never let another harm you in any way; but he still fears, still doubts you.

It should be expected for you to have multiple consorts. Multiple lovers, all equally vying for your attention. Zhongli should be happy that you have any interest in him at all— but the thought of being second to another in your heart makes him sick.

Venti, the verdant bard, does nothing but drink. He wastes away his woes in bottles of wine and bourbon; surely, you will not choose him over Zhongli? Ei lorded over her people and took their freedom away. Her reasons do not matter. All for an eternity unreachable by mortals and gods, she attempted to trespass upon your domain. Surely, you will not choose her over him?

The thoughts are foolish. Nearly sacrilegious in nature. He has no control over you; no place to demand that you only love him. But Zhongli has spent thousands of years worshiping you— is it wrong of him to believe himself better than the rest? Venti does not worship you in the way he does, with such fervor or zeal. Ei may pray or rest her eyes beneath your statue, but she has not spoken good of your name like he has, hasn’t hunted blasphemers like he has.

She’d rather her servants deal with them, whenever they so rarely come. Zhongli deals with them personally, knuckles clenched around his blade.

In every way that matters, he is better. As such, he shouldn’t fear, shouldn’t worry of when you will inevitably grow bored— he should enjoy the moments he has with you, the brief time when he is all that you have. When he is still all that you want.

Fear still grips his throat with its tiny, intangible hands. Even if he severs its wrists, it continues to thrive; to suffocate him with its pervasive thoughts.

He must prove himself, it echoes. Or else he'll be deserted. Discarded when another proves themselves his better.

Zhongli won't let himself be thrown away. Whatever he must do to please you, he will do.

Until his mortal form wears down to nothing but dust and bone, until his only coherent thought is how wonderful it is to worship you— until you have no need for anyone else.

Whatever your command is, he will follow. As long as he alone stands in your heart, as long as he alone can kiss the dirt off your feet, he will be content.

He only hopes that he can love you as you deserve.

Zhongli’s zealous behavior worsens to an obscene degree. He never falters in his fervent, almost fervorous veneration— it becomes excessive, almost actorly. Though his obsequiousness appears inflated, it is entirely genuine; he fawns a tad more obviously, smiling with dazed eyes when you kiss his cheeks or lips.

This has always been how he feels. He's only unrestrained, now. And even still, he hides the deeper parts of his worship, the servile and fanatic in him that wants to drool at your lap. It's hard to stop himself every time you sit on your throne to immediately drop to his knees.

Zhongli is happy to give and never receive. He is pleased with being yours, though it never clicks in his mind that the same is applicable to you.

You are not his, but he is yours. If you call yourself his, Zhongli melts. His face blossoms red and it permeates his cheeks for hours afterward. His hands slightly shake and he has trouble standing still in the immediate aftermath. All he wants to do is kneel, and say I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you—

If you'd like it, Zhongli would let you do whatever you want with him. Tear him apart with your bare hands, and shred him of any sense; it matters not as long as it's you.

You are everything, your love is everything. Even the softest of your kisses and touches have him breathless and numb, and anything else only serves to make him fall deeper into you.

Only with you is he easy to fluster. Anyone else, and he'd have punished them long ago, if not tore out their eyes for having seen him in such a state.

But it's you. You could crush his heart in your hands, leave him heartbroken and bitter, and Zhongli still would not find it in himself to hate you.

You are the lifeblood that runs underneath Teyvat’s cracked earth, the soft undercurrent that ties it together— and, if only you'd let him, Zhongli would worship you for it.

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blixssily · 9 months

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·˚ˎˊ˗ "can we always be this close forever and ever?" ‧₊˚✧

࿐ included: gepard landau, serval landau, dan heng, blade, kafka, jing yuan

࿐ summary: cuddle/hugging scenarios with them!!

࿐ disclaimers: might be ooc :( not proofread

࿐ authors notes: jing yuan fans i have a real surprise after this one 😈

gepard landau ˚ ༘ ( 杰帕德 )

his head is smushed into your stomach, his arms wrapped loosely around your frame with your hand tangled in his hair. you could tell he had a tiring day, the hours before he had arrived home were particularly grueling for your poor partner. having to slave away at countless stacks while trying his best to assist his fellow soldiers. he greeted you tiredly as he entered your shared home. you being the amazing partner that you were, you (forcefully) get him to settle down on the couch with you!! his muscles relaxing, the grip on your waist getting looser with every second that you stroke his hair, occasionally giving him a mini head massage. he catches himself just before he's able to fall asleep, not wanting to "waste" such a precious moment like this. you gently pat his head, signalling to him that's it's alright for him to rest and that you'll be here when he wakes up.

serval landau ˚ ༘ ( 希露瓦 )

it's late at night, the light tapping of rain hitting the window frames accompanied with the sound of writing in the background makes you feel drowsy. serval had promised you she wouldn't take long writing her new song but (in her defense) she absolutely had to write down these ideas!! she hates it when she forgets just the right lyrics before she can write them down. you're situated on servals lap, her free hand rubbing shapes on your back. you can feel your eyes getting heavier with the help of servals humming. your breath tickles her neck as she adjust your arms around her, her head leaning slightly on yours. she feels awful for making you stay up so late just to wait for her to finish writing up a song. she grabs the jacket on her desk, wrapping it gently around your frame before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

dan heng ˚ ༘ ( 丹恒 )

it's one of those rare nights where you return to your shared bed later than him. your boyfriend having already drifted off into the realm of peace. you flash a soft smile at the sight, knowing he rarely gets the chance to relax. the moonlit sky that flashed through the windows onto his face only enhanced his beauty. fluffy black locks of hair covered most of his face. you carefully slip into the bed, not wanting to wake him up. he really was beautiful like this.. you gently took his hand, playing with it until he suddenly pulled you into his chest. the hand you held now tangled into your hair as he pushed you into his chest with his other arm wrapped around your waist. you could hear a faint 'i missed you' from your boyfriend. you muttered an apology for waking him up but it seems that he's already fallen back asleep. you look up at him to press a soft kiss to his lips, snuggling right back into his chest with a sigh. you quickly made a mental note to remind him about tonight in extreme detail, smiling at the thought of his flustered face before slowly falling asleep.

blade ˚ ༘ ( 刃 )

never in blades life would he think that he'd be able to be emotionally and physically vulnerable enough for someone to cuddle him. he stands awkwardly with his hands just above your frame, not knowing what to do with them. you whisper a small 'it's okay' knowing he doesn't quite know what to do in a situation like this. he gets the message eventually, cautiously allowing his arms to wrap around your waist as yours tighten slightly at his neck. he bends his neck to yours, inhaling your scent before pressing a kiss to your pulse point. his arms tighten a little, a hand moving up your back to hold you even closer. he wants to stay like this forever, being able to forget all the stress from missions and just be with you. no words need to be spoken between you two in this moment, both of you simply relishing in this rare moment of peace. he thanks your for your affection with another kiss, this time it was placed on your lips with small smile.

kafka ˚ ༘ ( 卡芙卡 )

it's sunrise, the brightness of the sun rudely woke you up. you shift over to face the other side of the bed, unaware of your lovers arm draped around your waist. you smile at kafka's face, noticing how relaxed she looks in this state. she pulls you closer to her, slowly opening her eyes to peer down at you. she sends you her usual teasing smile and you roll your eyes at her. you remind her about the mission you both have today and she lightly scolds you for ruining the mood, saying that she wants to enjoy her time with you (guilt trip???) her hand finds its way to your scalp, enjoying the way you pull yourself closer to her, burying your face into her neck. she lightly scratches your scalp while absentmindedly tracing shapes onto your shoulder blade. you can feel yourself slipping back to sleep when you hear her reminding you about your previous statement. when you're about to "leave" the bed to escape from her teasing, she grabs your wrist, giving you a pout as she tugs on it lightly. she promises she'll be nice so you both can enjoy this rare moment together (she doesn't keep that promise for long, when you try to leave the bed again she traps you in the blanket..)

jing yuan ˚ ༘ ( 景元 )

the people of Xianzhou Luofu greet their general with shy bows. you had suggested (forced) that he should go out for some walks in order to not get too bored at his desk. he doesn't really have a direction or a place in mind, he's just purely letting his legs carry him to wherever they wanna go. he scans the food stalls down the road, thinking of something he could surprise you with when he arrives home. he spotted a stall he remembered you talking about, according to you the food was amazing there but you never have the time to stop and visit it. he smiles to himself imagining your reaction to him bringing the snacks back home (maybe eating some right in your face just to tease you..) on the other hand, you got off work early!!!! and actually had time to visit said store. you immediately spot your partner in the cue. suddenly getting the impulse to sprint up to him and spook him (hehe) so with that, you sprinted up to jing yuan, trying your best not to make a sound. you two almost fall over as you wrapped your arms around his waist. successfully scaring the hell out of your poor boyfriend. he scolds you for scaring him while pouting, threatening to drag you home before any of you buy anything from the store to which you beg for his forgiveness. you two head home, treats in a small bag. jing yuan closes the front door to your shared house and wraps his arms around your waist like how you did to him earlier that day.

notes and reblogs are heavily appreciated !!

#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #blade x reader #dan heng x reader #gepard landau x reader #gepard x reader #hsr blade x reader #serval landau x reader #serval x reader #kafka x reader #hsr kafka x reader #jing yuan x reader #hsr jing yuan x reader

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leqonsluv3r · 4 months

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pretty girl

leon!kennedy x afab!reader

— a oneshot

warnings: MDNI, 18+, unprotected sex, fingering, slight choking, hair pulling, leon calls reader pretty girl, baby, etc. public sex??? (but not really). reader is female (she/her) pronouns used, established relationship. soft!dom leon kennedy, sub!reader, some fluff and aftercare, slight nipple play.

“what does he do when he comes home after a long day of work, of grueling missions. of bloodshed and destruction, death even sometimes. he uses her, in the most delicious and beautiful way he can. he takes her, however he can. and she lets him.”

— or leon fucks reader against a rainy cold window at night after work

leon is tired, plain and simple. he’s sick of working like a dog day in and day out with little to no recognition. he works and works, bones cracking.

he works until his feet are sore, until his adrenaline is cursing him like a sick plague. he works and does what he needs to do. and for what? for what purpose? all because he was in raccoon city on that unfaithful day?

he doesn’t deserve it, not in his mind. but he does it, because the only purpose to keep going, to keep trying and even come home after a day of grueling work is simple.

it’s you.

you’re his only safe place, the only safe place he can let go. release all of the aggression, love and pent up emotions. he knows he’s safe with you. he knows that life is uncontrollable, he’s seen enough to prove that.

but when he’s with you, when he touches your skin and holds you close. hears your soft whimpers as you kiss him tenderly. he’s in control of that, in control of you. she understands. she knows.

because she’s not stupid, not since you two have started dating. she knows that sex and the love he has for her, are the only goddamn things in this sick world he can have some control over.

she would do anything for him, let him fuck her over the table, the washer, the kitchen counter. she doesn’t care because whatever he needs for that release, that control, she lets him have it.

so on a practically stormy, slow night of sitting in and her shared apartment with leon. she just waits, briefly watching tv but nothing seems to occupy her brain. she knew he was coming home tonight, just going in for a day of paper work and meetings. she didn’t bother arguing, knowing he would probably rather stay in bed and eat her like a five course meal instead.

and she’d let him, she didn’t even care.

she loved him so much and you could see it, her restless behavior as she went from the sliding glass window, trying to catch him pulling in. she lets her eyes watch some cars drive by on the street in front of the apartment building, rain hitting the sliding glass window in a soft patter.

she sighed and pressed herself against the window, her forehead resting on the cold foggy glass. she watched with a small flutter of her eyes as his car pulled into the parking lot of their apartment building.

her body eager, as if she knew what was about to happen. she taps her soft fingers against the foggy window, her nipples getting hard from the cold window she’s pressing herself against.

she hears his work boots clank up the stairs to the third floor of their apartment. she stays there, even after he enters, his boots landing with a thud as he takes them off by the door.

“waiting for me, pretty girl?” he whispers huskily, his footsteps on the carpet are felt as his large body comes up behind her short frame. she’s still holding herself up to the sliding glass window.

“yeah, saw you pull in. just waiting.” she responds softly, feeling his large hands land on her hips, massaging them in the way he knows she loves. he leans in and presses a kiss to her ear, her jawline and then her neck.

she knows where this is going, she’s not clueless. “let’s go to the bedroom.” she says as she tries to finally move away from the window. “no need, baby. we can stay right here.” he whispers hoarsely in her ear, nibbling at it.

she melts under his kiss, his words sending shivers up her body and through her blood stream. she was like an addict, addicted to his touch and everything about him. he chuckled softly and turned her around gently, pressing her back to the cold rainy window.

“been waiting all day for you sweet girl.” he whispers as he cups her jaw, his thumb playing with her bottom lip. “to kiss you…” he leans down and plants a soft but dominant kiss on her pink lips, his other hand moving down to cup her ass, squeezing it. she gasps softly.

“to touch you…” he says softly as he massages her ass with one hand, the other sliding up to play with her already hard nipple over the cotton of her shirt. “so sweet, pretty girl.” she gasps and moans softly as he rubs his thumb over her nipple.

“mmm, i think you need this more then me. lets check, shall we?” he says with a small low chuckle, his blue eyes flitting over hers, his hand that was on her ass, moving to the front of her pj shorts. he dips his fingers in and under the underwear and shorts, “oh honey,” he lets one of his fingers run through her drenched slit. “your soaking.” she whimpers and nods up at him.

she had been waiting all day, of course she was wet. she hadn’t touched herself. she just kept thinking of him coming home, touching her and releasing his tension into her like a taut rubber band.

“always wet for you.” she whispers with a small embarrassed flushed on her cheeks, looking up at him. focusing in on his blue eyes. he lets a grin form on his face, his fingers going up to circle over her clit. her hand flys up to hold onto his shoulder to steady herself against the window. a small moan escaping her pretty pink lips.

“mmm, yeah. i know pretty girl. we’ll take care of you.” he presses another kiss to her lips, eating her moans as his fingers work on her clit, eliciting moans and whimpers into the kiss. she couldn’t even focus on kissing him, not when his fingers were unwinding her in such a sweet way. he noticed this, chuckling into her mouth, “oh baby, you can’t even focus can you? hmm, poor thing.” he says with an amused grin.

she whimpers and holds tighter onto his shoulder, her fingernails lightly digging into the fabric of his work shirt. “please…” she mewls, trying to arch her back against the cold glass window, rain still hitting it in a soft patter. he knows what she wants, he’s not going to make her beg, not when he’s been waiting for this just as equally and painfully long.

he inserts a finger into her wet and waiting hole, still circling her clit with rapid succession. “mmm, still just as tight and wet as when i left.” he says in a low chuckle, leaning in and sucking at her neck as he continued his assault on her pussy.

“leon…” she chants as she feels that familiar bubbling feeling in her core, arching her back into his chest. her hard nipples pressing into his chest. he keeps sucking at her neck, leaving hickies for later. she feels him adding another finger almost making her scream in delight.

“such a good girl, always cumming on my fingers.” he mumbles into her neck, his voice husky and low. his fingers working her and driving her closer to the edge. “been waiting all week to fuck you, hear those noises i love so much…” he whispers dirtily into her ear.

his fingers and his words simply driving her over the edge, making her release over his fingers in a chant of moans and whimpers. her breaths shorten as he works her through it, eventually pulling back and withdrawing his hand, licking at his slick covered fingers.

she watches him as she leans up against the rain covered window, keeping herself upright. “sweet, just as i remember.” she swallows as she lets him lick her release from fingers.

“but i don’t think that’s what you wanted. huh? you want my dick inside you don’t you?” he says in a low tone, a smirk stretching across his lips as he looks at her. she nods and he chuckles, “mhm, okay. turn around then babygirl. we’re doing it right now. i’m not waiting.” he says in a soft demanding tone, pulling her underwear and pj pants off in one foul swoop.

he tuts at her, gesturing to her shirt, “i wanna see your titties when i fuck you baby, off.” he motions with his hand for you to strip it off, leave you naked and waiting against the cool window for him.

she hears his request, stripping off her t-shirt, no bra covering her breasts. “oh my, mmm…missed these.” he murmurs as he moves closer, cupping a breast in each hand. she whimpers and looks up at him with waiting and pleading eyes. “baby, i love these.” he states but i don’t think he’s stating it for himself, rather just recalling his fondness.

leon lets his mouth trail onto one of her breasts, licking and sucking on her nipple. she cards a hand into his dirty blonde hair, fisting it with tiny hands. she moans softly. “fucking delicious.” he whispers in a growl, moving over to the other breast, licking and sucking on it.

she could practically feel her release from before leaking down her bare thigh, she needed him again. she needed all of him.

he growls as his teeth light scrape across her nipple, moving to the other one and doing the same, drawing the sweetest noises to come from your mouth. “don’t worry i won’t leave you waiting, pretty girl. missed you on my cock too much.” he chuckles lowly as he pulls away from her chest, turning her around swiftly and bending her towards the cool glass.

she puts her hands against the fogged, rain covered glass. a perfect view of the street she was watching before as she waited for him. his hands moving from her bare hips to the swell of her ass, squeezing both cheeks in his large hands. she gasps softly as her hands tried to find purchase on the window. “leon…please…” she practically begs.

“no need to beg, baby.” he whispers in a growl as his dark eyes glide over her bent over body, smirking to himself. the thought that someone could just walk on the sidewalk out front and look up and see him fucking her raw, it made his cock stir in his pants.

she felt him play with her ass, then his hands left her all together and she hears his button on his jeans pop and his pants slide down along with his boxers. a sweet sound that brought happy sounds to her mouth. he lightly jerks his cock in his hand, smearing the precum that leaked from the tip all over his cock.

“you going to be a sweet girl and take it all?” he asks in a low voice as one of his hands traces the curve of her bare spine, chuckling lowly. she nods and shivers at his touch. he slides his cock over her soaking slit, the tip nudging her hole.

she whimpers and tries to hold herself up, her pants pressed flat against the cool glass. his hands hold her hips as he nudges in only a little, a moan falling from her lips. “only the tip baby, and you’re already falling apart.” he remarks with a small groan as he pulls her back by her hips onto his cock.

she gasps and moans all in one breath, not able to hold any sounds. “so fucking tight, just how i left it.” he groans as his hands dig into her hips, holding her upright and thrusting into her at a slow but deep pace, pushing her lightly to the window, her breasts meeting the cool glass, the new angle making her mewl. “leon…”

“i know pretty girl, feels good.” he says with a low voice as he keeps thrusting into her, fucking her up against the glass. his skin slapping against her ass. he sees her lips parted and her eyes slightly closed as it scrunched up in pleasure.

“mmm, missed this. missed this perfect pussy.” he keeps snapping his hips again and again against her ass, pulling on her hips. she squeezes him lightly at his words, moaning softly.

he sees someone on the sidewalk walking their dog, to think if that person just looked over, they’d see all of it. they’d see her getting fucked up against the rainy window, her tits smushed against the cold window, his hips ramming in and out of her.

he leans over her body, still slamming his hips against hers, his dick going in and out of her sweet pussy. “just think baby, if someone looked over, they’d see me fucking you so good. you’d like that wouldn’t you?” he asks in a rasp, his hot breath against her ear.

she nods and lets out a small whimper as he keeps thrusting in and out of her, “words baby, use them.” he says softly as he grabs her hair, lightly pulling on it. she moans at the pain but the throbbing of her pussy against his dick was overpowering it. “yes, yes i’d like it.” she responds in a choked tone.

“oh i bet you would, bet you’d love that. mmm, i know all the things you like baby, like this for example.” he groans softly as he keeps pumping in and out of her, faster now. one of his hands sliding around to take purchase on her neck, lightly squeezing. “leon…” she moans loudly against that as he rids of her oxygen only a little.

it was toxic, the way his hands played her like a well tuned instrument. the way only his dick could make her unravel, the way only his fingers could work her apart. the way his words could strike that chord so deep within her that it made her feel like a caged animal being released.

“oh baby, so dirty. all dumb and stupid on my cock. i know.” he chuckles lowly in a groan as he fucked her deeper and harder, still squeezing lightly on her throat, her bare breasts pressed against the cold window.

his words, his actions, the snap of his hips into hers. his dick kissing that spot within her womb that made her eyes squeeze shut. his hand around her neck, all of it was making that band start to snap.

“m’ so close.” she whimpers pathetically as she keeps trying to hold herself up on the window, her fingerprints leaving marks on the fogged glass of the window. he squeezes a little tighter around her neck, smirking a little as she gasps, his hips going fast and hard.

“gonna cum all over my cock baby?” he asks in a low groan, feeling his release start to approach him. she whines and nods, he squeezes her throat slightly again in a growl. “words, pretty girl.” she whimpers and swallows as she feels herself get closer, clenching and unclenching around his cock inside of her.

“yes…gonna cum.” she babbles out as he keeps ramming into her, his fingers on her hip and throat digging in and creating bruises there. marks that would paint her skin in a light that was delicious.

he keeps ramming into her faster and faster, trying to chase her high and his. give her that feeling that they both yearned for deep down. she wanted it just as much as him, loving his cock kissing her cervix and womb with every earth-shattering thrust.

she cums in a chorus of moans, her lips parting as she clenches around his dick. she coats her cum all over him as he emits a low growl, “god damn baby, so good…” he mutters as he squeezes her neck a little as he fucks her through her orgasm. he approaches his soon after, emptying inside her.

she mewls and milks his cum deliciously, feeling the familiar filling of heat in her core. she can feel the liquid of their combined release leaking down her thigh. he pulls out, and pulls his hand away from her throat. he pulls his boxers up over his now soft dick. “stay here baby. i’ll clean you up.” he whispers tenderly as he rubs a hand over her spine in a soft touch.

she steps away from the window and turns around so her back is facing the cool glass, she watches him come back soon after and get down on his knees in front of her, she watches as he wipes up her thighs then leans forwards and licks at her folds, cleaning her up. she whimpers slightly. he smirks against her folds, pulling away.

“you did so good baby, as usual.” he says with a small easy touch of her bare thigh, standing up to his full height, pressing a kiss to her forehead. she smiles warmly up at him, her eyes so wide and full of adoration for him.

“i missed you.” she whispers softly as he lets her guide her to the couch. she sits her bare frame on it, letting him plop down next to her. he holds onto her hips, holding her close. “i could tell baby,” he chuckles with a warm smile on his features.

his fingers lightly tracing over her hair, pushing some out of her eyes. “thank you.” she whispers as she looks up at him, he swings her legs over his, rubbing a hand gently over her ankle. “you don’t need to thank me for fucking my beautiful girlfriend.” he chuckles with a small shake of his head.

she blushes and rolls her eyes playfully, “well…” she shrugs as if it’s nothing, a large smile on her face. tracing lines on his arms, in a soothing motion. a comforting silence wrapping around them.

“i love you.” she says with a small smile, looking up at him, her ears going red only a little. she looks into his blue eyes with pure love and nothing else, she couldn’t even imagine not having him in her world.

“i love you too, pretty girl.” he says back, his blue eyes melting into hers, his caresses soft and loving. he was hers and she was his. she didn’t have a doubt in her mind that she couldn’t marry him, have his kids and be his forever.

the simplest and most divine love, like a flower in spring. blooming and beautiful. even when the rain came down, the love was still beautiful.

just like the two of them.

pretty and beautiful.

taglist - @heartsforvin

(comment to join the taglist, pls reblog and follow for more <3)

#leon kennedy #leon x reader #leon kennedy smut #re2 leon #ada wong #jill valentine #re2 remake #re4 remake #leon kennedy au

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mockerycrow · 7 months

Text

SAFETY (Roommate!Gaz x GN!Reader)

gaz photo is by the wonderful @yumethefrostypanda

summary; you went out by yourself whilst gaz is home, and you aren’t answering your phone.

roommate!gaz masterlist

[WARNINGS; slight angst, vague description of deaths, paranoid militaristic thinking, anxiety, gaz is just anxious </3]

KYLE COULD not get himself to calm down. He swears in the back of his mind that his feet are burning holes into the wooden floor of your shared apartment as he paces back and forth in the living room, even circling around the couch a couple of times. There’s horrible worry eating away at his gut, tearing through his stomach like a lawn mower cuts through grass. Kyle isn’t.. used to being anxious like this. He’s used to being on edge, alert; ready for the next attack or target to appear. Kyle’s used to waiting around, but not like this at all. Kyle’s used to be waiting in thick bushes, laying down in his ghillie suit with his Captain by his side, waiting for a convoy to ride down a road he’s looking at through his sniper’s scope. He isn’t used to waiting at home with zero contact with you, waiting for you to get home.

He felt unbelievably useless because he’s texted you multiple times, called you—neither of them went through, meaning something is wrong with your phone. Are you okay? Are you hurt? You insisted on taking a walk which he didn’t want to go on, so did you get hit by a car? Did you get kidnapped? Kyle groans and he rubs his face, lightly slapping his cheeks in an attempt to get his bearings. “They’re fine, you git.” He whispers to himself, even though he doesn’t believe what he’s trying to tell himself. There’s so many damn possibilities that could be wrong that Kyle can’t help but torture himself with. Kyle sits down on the couch for a moment, his fingers resting on his thighs and taps against them, muttering that you’re fine a couple of times.

Kyle grabs the TV remote from the table in front of the couch and he tries to lean back to relax. He doesn’t stop his leg from bouncing as he switches the TV on, and he knows he shouldn’t watch the news, it’ll make it worse; but he can’t help it. Kyle goes to switch to the news but he pauses—what if there was a terrorist attack and you’re there? What if there was a bomb, and you’re trapped under rubble, just like what happened in—

The front door opens and Kyle whips his head around to look, holding his breath. He lets out a shaky breath as he watches you shuffle inside, grumbling as you’re holding a closed, but wet red umbrella. “Bloody hell.” Kyle curses as he gets up from the couch, and he begins to approach you. “The fuckin’ rain is terrible,” You begin to ramble, unzipping your rain coat that Kyle bought for you last year. You’re looking down at your soaked pants and shoes, and luckily you’re standing on top of a mat you had half a mind to buy before the rainy season began. “My goddamn pho—”

Kyle wraps his arms around you, ignoring the way the water on your coat soaks into the gray long sleeved shirt he’s wearing. “You’re a fuckin’ arse.” Kyle grumbles loudly, the anxiety finally settling in his gut, his mind no longer shouting at him the warning signs. You huff, your hands trying to pry Kyle’s from your body. “I—Huh? I didn’t do anything, Kyle, you’re getting wet—“ You insist, but Kyle’s grip doesn’t budge. “I don’t give a fuck,” He says, tightening his arms. You sigh, your eyebrows furrowing in worry. “What’s happened?”

Kyle doesn’t respond for a moment; he knows it’s illogical. He knows it’s because he only came home from deployment about two days ago—where the mission was grueling mentally and physically. Kyle knows it’s because he watched a building collapse with the knowledge people were inside, civilians. You’re a civilian, and he’s terrified something will happen to you. He knows his fears are just agitated because he hasn’t calmed down from everything that had happened; so he doesn’t want to share—

You managed to squirm your arms from under his and your hands grab his head, forcing it back and then forward to make him look at you, causing him to blink rapidly. “Hey,” You utter. “What’s wrong?”

Kyle presses his lips together as he reluctantly lets go of you, but he doesn’t ignore the way your hands stay on him, drifting from his head to his shoulder; likely to keep him grounded. “You didn’t answer your phone.” Kyle breathes out, his eyes scanning yours. You blink and his stomach twists a bit at the way you laugh. “Oh, sorry, Kyle. It was raining, and some fucking asshole splashed me.” You respond, fishing your damp phone out of your pocket. “Phone’s dead forever.” His eyes flicker to your phone and he feels so unbelievably stupid. How the fuck did he think of you dying from a bomb before some other mishap with your phone?

Kyle groans and rubs his eyes with the palms of his hands as he curses under his breath, embarrassment flowing through his veins. At least you’re alright, that’s what matters.

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ravenromanova · 7 months

Text

Alpha please…

Pairings: Alpha Bucky x Female Omega reader

Warnings: SMUT!!!! DO NOT READ IF YOU’RE UNDERAGE!! Mentions of killing, Breeding kink, Oral, Daddy kink, pet names (bunny) nipple play, clit play, METAL ARM KINK!!!! Dom bucky! DO NOT READ IF YOU’RE UNDER 18+!!

Summary: After a stressful mission Bucky just needs his omega.

Kinktober masterlist - Main masterlist - Send me requests!!

It had been a grueling mission for Bucky. Normally he was in and out without a problem but this time was different. From the moment he walked into the facility he was swarmed by hydra agents. They tried so hard to get their beloved solider back. And unfortunately for them they felt his wrath as he slaughtered all the agents who came at him. He left over a hundred bodies in his wake as he went to get the data he came for.

Once he had finally gotten the data he got on the jet and made his way home to you. Bucky had landed at the compound and went to quickly debrief with Fury before he headed to your shared apartment. Luckily for him the debriefing didn’t take long and he was on his motorcycle on his way home soon.

His thoughts were flooded with his omega as he zipped through the dark streets of new york. Bucky couldn’t wait to smell you again, to touch you, and most importantly he couldn’t wait to fuck you. It hasn’t been that long in all honesty but half a day without you felt like eternity. So he impatiently waited as he made his way to you.

You were at home cooking dinner for you and your alpha when you had smelled him. His pine and rain water scent flooded your nostrils before he even walked in the door. You grew impatient as you opened the door right as he was going to unlock it. The door opened and his gaze met yours and his blue eyes softened when he saw his omega. There you were in all your glory, Messy bun, one of his hoodies and sleep shorts.. God you looked so good.

“Omega” He growled happily and then picked you up by your waist to spin you around. “I missed you” The words are hoarse and husky as the passes his lips and it sends chills down your spine.

“I missed you too alpha” You giggle when he lays you down on the leather couch and attacks you in kisses. His hands wonder down your body while his face is shoved in your scent gland taking him your intoxicating rose water and cherry scent and admiring your mark that he gave you. He groaned as your scent invades his senses he was starting to lose any control he had.

“Need you bunny” Bucky whispered in your ear along with gripping your thighs.

“Take me please alpha” You beg grappling at his shirt telling him to take it off. “Alpha please use me” You continue begging once his shirt is off. When you get his shirt off you take a moment to admire the contrasts between his flesh and metal arm, along with his toned chest and abs. Bucky lets out a low chuckle at your eagerness and is quick to undress you leaving you in just your underwear he bought you.

“Oh i will bunny don’t worry” He says as he kisses down your neck, then your chest, down to your stomach, then he hovers the hem of you panties to tease you. He lingers before he kisses right on your clothed clit making you squirm.

“Alpha please… no teasing” The words come out strangled and broken but your too caught up in him to notice. Bucky decides to take it easy on you and not tease. He quickly discards your underwear and bra leaving you bare on the cool leather couch. Then he takes a nipple in his mouth and starts sucking on it like a treat. His groans fill your ears and the sensation of him on you feels so good.

He sucks and bites your nipples softly for a few minutes before he’s had his fill for the day and releases it with a wet pop. “Gonna fuck you now bunny okay?” He says it more as statement than a question. You nod your head eagerly and moan out a ‘please’ as you feel his metal hand touch your clit. The cool feel of the metal against your warm clit felt unreal.

“So wet for me bunny” He groans when he feels your slick cover his fingers just by touching your button. You squirm underneath him as you feel your first orgasm start building up. It builds up even more when he shoves two of his thick metal fingers deep in you. Your hands gripped his flesh arm as you ground yourself on his fingers.

“Oh fuck daddy yes!” You moan wantonly as you feel your first orgasm rip through you. Bucky doesn’t stop fucking you even though you’re a panting mess. This is what he wants he wants you a blabbering mess, and then when you think you can’t anymore he’ll take his cock and fuck you into oblivion.

He takes his fingers out of you and licks his fingers with a sinful moan. “So sweet ‘mega” Bucky praises before he then kisses down your thighs before stopping at your pussy. His metal fingers spread your folds to expose your dripping core and his eyes darken at the sight.

“Need to taste you” His voice is seductive and sultry as the words fall from his lips. He then licks a long strip from your hole to clit earning a sinful moan from you. The second Bucky tastes you it’s over and he eats you out like never before.

It only takes a few minutes of him licking and sucking you before your hand fly to his hair and your orgasm hits again. And just like he always does he makes sure he cleans you up, earning a scream from you.

“N-No alpha please to- too much too sensitive” You please as you try to push his head away from you but that just makes him mad.

“Dont try to push me away-you’re mine, mine too please, mine too fuck and i will do with you as i please” Bucky growls as he rids himself of his tactical pants. When you see his erect cock standing at attention your mouth waters. His cock is red at the tip and leaking with pre-cum and he uses it to wet it before he thrusts into you.

“Oh fuck! YES” You scream once he bottoms out and sets a fast pace. He lifts your legs to your chest so he can get a deeper angle making you groan.

“Take me so well bunny” Bucky praises looking down at the place where your pussy is swallowing his cock. He snakes his metal hand down to rub your clit.

“YES YES YES!!!!” You chant gripping both his flesh and metal shoulders. Bucky groans as your walls start to clench around him. His thrusts start to falter as he feels his high get closer.

“Fuck bunny you feel so good- fuck i’m gonna breed you, fill you up with my pups so you’re all nice and round-fuck you’d look so pretty with a round belly and full tits bunny” He husks in your ear kissing your mating mark.

“Oh please fill me up daddy please i’m begging you” You plead as your now third orgasm floods out of you and you squirt all over him.

“Fuck yes baby i’m gonna fucking breed you “ Bucky says as he feels his balls get tight and he cums deep inside you.

“Oh thank you thank you alpha” You say in a fucked out haze looking up at him with glassy eyes.

“You’re welcome ‘mega” He says pulling out and laying you on top of him. He takes a few moments to just lay with you on the couch whispering sweet nothings to you. After about fifteen minutes he picks you up and walks you to your shared room. Then he gently placed you on the bed and grabs a wet cloth to clean you up.

“You were such a good girl bunny” He continues his praises as he lays down next to you and places you on his chest.

“Thank you alpha” You beam at his praises giving him a kiss on his cheek. “Was the mission rough?” You question noting the way he just fucked you.

“Very and i just needed my girl to make it better” He kisses your head before pulling the blankets over you both. The rest it the day is filled with words of affirmation, giggles, kisses and love. And to Bucky there’s no better way to end a day then with you.

~The end~ A/n THREE IN ONE DAY?! I’m so proud of myself rn it’s not even funny.

i do not give permission for my work to my copies or translated to other cites

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1000roughdrafts · 2 months

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Just Another Day

Summary: Fluffy Dean x female!reader Valentine's Day post

Warnings: some language (like 2-3 words), light mentions of angst, but mostly fluff

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: Not betad, all mistakes are my own 😊 and bear with me, I’m a little rusty 🥰 happy love day 🥰

Valentine's Day has never really been a favorite of mine, let alone anything I'd consider more than 'just a day'. Hell, Christmas, Thanksgiving, New Years, even birthdays are all just 'another day' for me. It's kind of difficult not to harbor ill feelings about them after constantly being let down by the people in my life, one broken promise after another.

Dean and Sam have kept every promise they've made, though. In fact, they're managing to break down my walls bit by bit from stolen candy on Halloween to a fried chicken meal with beer on Thanksgiving all while living in cheap motels chasing monsters. When I told them this morning that I just wanted to hunt as usual for the day, I couldn't help but to feel a tad disappointed that they agreed. Bit by bit, I'm breaking my own rules about not getting my hopes up on holidays.

This is our first Valentine's Day as a couple, and I've known Dean long enough to know that chocolate and flowers aren't exactly his style. But I can count on him to bring me a piece of pie "just because" or he'll clean my weapons for me after a particularly grueling hunt because he knows all I want to do is shower and get in bed.

After a long day of exorcising demons, we are on the road again. Burnin' For You by Blue Oyster Cult plays low on the radio, but the clattering of rain on the roof has my full attention. Sam loudly rifles through the papers in his lap with one hand, flashlight held in the other, hesitant to ever let himself relax. Dean's eyes flicker between the road and the rear-view mirror to periodically check on me.

"Hey, you seem off today, you okay?" Dean asks, picking up on my vacant eyes and slight frown.

I suck in a breath, inhaling the scent of the Black Ice air freshener and a hint of stale whiskey, "yeah," I say curtly, keeping my eyes on the trees swaying in the wind as we drive past, lit only by the moon above us. The wind howls against the windows of the Impala, sneaking in and covering my skin with goosebumps.

His face scrunches a bit and he nods before the tick of the blinker signals that he's turning off the highway. I feel a twinge of discomfort knowing we're only minutes away from the motel now. As much as I hate the numbness I feel in my butt and thighs, there is something meditative about being a passenger on a long drive.

We pass an abandoned gas station before I can see the dim lights of the Wandering Inn. Dean parks us by the front desk, leaving the Impala to run with a soft purr as he gets us a key to a room. Neither Sam nor I take our time getting the bags together, so by the time Dean is back out and we find a parking spot near the room, we're ready to head in.

The door whines as Dean pushes it open, immediately palming the peeling wall for a light switch. The overhead light flickers a few times before settling on a weak glow, and before I can even shut the door behind us, the smell of burnt dust and old pledge assaults my nose. I glance around the small room. The musky yellow walls seem to make it feel even smaller, somehow.

Dean turns to me with outstretched arms and a smile, asking for my bags. I dutifully and sleepily hand them over, not realizing the weight they bared until the relief of their absence waves over me. Dean nods his head towards the bathroom, "ladies first on a shower," he says softly. His boots click on the tile as he walks over to toss our bags onto the bed, plopping down next to them to remove his boots.

In a few short strides I head over to grab my bag for the bathroom, stopping in front of him to plant a kiss on his forehead. His eyes, droopy and half-closed, look up at me in a smile. He places his hands my back, thumbs rubbing circles on my skin as he pulls me in for a kiss.

"Thanks for first shower, Dean," I say, letting my hands rest on his shoulders.

His eyebrows rise and fall before he says, "yeah, well, by the looks of it, you need it more than we do tonight."

My ear to ear smile is real, but I fake a laugh before pulling away. "Whatever," I say, but I slowly lose my smile on the way to my shower. Dean's ability to pick up on even the most subtle of changes in me are a testament to how great of a hunter he is, and even greater boyfriend. How he can't pick up on how torn I'm feeling about this wretched day I've no idea. What conflicts me further is that I know it's my responsibility to share these feelings with him. Dean may have an attention to detail I haven't seen in a partner in, well, ever, but he's not a mind reader.

The tile of the bathroom is cold under my feet, so I remove my shirt to stand on it while I wait for the water to heat up. I hear the guys shuffling and moving things in the room, keeping their voices hush, but I'm too tired to give a shit. Waving a hand under the water I decide that it's the perfect temperature and remove the rest of my clothes to get in.

I don't even realize how tense I am until the water hits my shoulders, nearly forcing me to relax under it. My body's reflexes take over and I go into autopilot as I think about today and Valentine's Day is already almost over, but we did nothing… at my request. I roll my eyes at myself, brushing my teeth while the conditioner sits in my hair. The scent of fruit and mint fill the room among the steam. When I rinse my hair, I imagine I'm rinsing the day away.

The mirror is completely fogged up by the time I get out. With slightly damp skin, and a towel wrapped around my head, I struggle to get my clothes on, and it frustrates me.

I open the door and allow the steam to pour into our room, and I'm immediately hit with a surprising smell. It's almost as if someone is roasting marshmallows in our motel room. I take a small, careful step and peek just my head out, eyes zeroing in on the lit candles on the table.

My eyes skip over to Dean who sits on the edge of the bed with his elbows resting on his knees, a single flower in one hand, and a mix-tape in the other. Beneath his feet is a trail of rose petals leading to the door of the bathroom. He keeps his eyes on me, a smile peaking through his lips as he awaits my next move.

Sam's eyes and mine meet before he offers an awkward smile and shuffles a few things around on his bed. He grabs his shower bag, and I take a few steps towards Dean to allow him to enter the bathroom. Dean and I are both silent until the door closes behind Sam.

"What is all this, Dean?" I asks, astonished. Moldy motel room, or 5 star suite, never in my life has anyone laid out rose petals for me. I feel my heart racing like it's ready to burst right out of my chest.

Dean smiles, standing to hand me the flower with a kiss on my cheek. My skin is warm where his lips just were, and he reaches to take my hand, guiding me to sit on our bed.

He notices my eyes glance down at the mix tape before jumping back up to his. "I've been working on this for a few weeks now," he says, shaking the tape in his hand before handing it to me.

My hand shakes when I grab it, and I flip it to see "To my Y/N/N, Love Dean," scribbled on the front. My cheeks grow hot again, but this time with embarrassment that I'd spent the whole day thinking about myself, when here's Dean blowing expectations right out of the water.

"It's, uh, all the songs that remind me of you," he says softly, and I notice the scent of my favorite candle as the flame burns. My head spins.

"I don't know what to say, Dean," I start, and he just smiles, caressing my hand with his calloused fingers, "I mean, thank you. This is the kindest, most loving thing anyone has ever done for me," I say, tears welling in my eyes.

It's overwhelming to think a personal could love someone so much that amidst hunting Heaven, Hell and everything in between he could find the time to make this moment so special.

"Aw, sweetheart, don't cry," he says, arms wrapping around me, pulling me in for a tight hug.

"I'm not crying, Dean," I contest, but I nuzzle my face into his soft, comforting shirt, allowing my arms to wrap around his torso, and under the warmth of his jacket.

I soak in the smell of his sandalwood cologne and tighten my arms around him. Kissing his chest, I mutter another "thank you" before lifting my head to look him in the eyes. He brings his hand to either side of my face, eyes looking back and forth between mine, "you're very welcome," he says, kissing me with a tenderness that takes my breath away, and I realize that it's moments like these that I want to fill my heaven with.

~~~~

If you liked my story, I ask that you heart, comment or reblog. And/or you can add yourself to a tag list here if you wish :) Thank you for reading!! :)

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#dean x reader fluff #supernatural fan fiction #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x reader valentine's day #dean winchester x y/n #fluff #spn #supernatural dean #queued #supernatural fandom #dean winchester fluff #supernatural fic #supernatural fan fic #dean winchester #supernatural #fanfic

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minkdelovely · 2 months

Text

love and power

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prelude

“ask for forgiveness,

never permission.”

Alastor x Fem!Reader ; MDNI 18+ ; [y/n] used sparingly ; Alias in Hell is Sylvie

tags: acid rain wound, cannibals living their best lives in cannibal town, slow burn eventual: smut, violence, toxic themes

word count: 1.7k

hello world! i currently have alastor brain rot and felt compelled to jump back into writing fan fiction. i’m a little rusty and i’m not sure how many parts there will be; i won’t deny that this is purely self-indulgent but i hope you enjoy all the same :)

prelude ; chapter one ; chapter two ; chapter three ; chapter four ; chapter five ; chapter six ; chapter seven ; chapter eight

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Hell wasn’t what you had expected it to be. It was worse.

Thoughts of your grandmother rose to your mind, despite how desperately you tried to push them down. “Hell is the absence of God,” she would always say after one of her famous rants. A warning you perhaps would have heeded, had it been coming from a place of love instead of moral superiority.

You had seen her on the streets of Hell a few times now, always sure to avoid catching her attention. The warm pleasure that bloomed in your chest was too precious to give up, despite knowing how good it would feel to rub her fate in her face. A lot of good all those Sunday mornings had done her, haughty bitch! You wondered how often your grandmother laid awake at night, desperate to know how she had ended up here. A wicked grin spread across your lips, revealing milky-pink fangs.

It was hard not to imagine the look your father would have given you if you could tell him she was here. He would definitely have scolded you, but you knew a small part of him would be amused. If calling her a bad grandmother was putting it lightly, she was an even worse mother-in-law. Hopefully you would never get the chance to tell him; Mother was waiting for him in Heaven, after all. And things should be much easier for him now, all things considered. Leaving him alone hadn’t been part of the plan, so all you could do was tell yourself that it had been worth it. Someday you would believe it.

Grandmother was right though, loathe as you were to admit it, and the feeling of loss burned through you every morning when you awoke. Every night, you dreamed of rain; the sound of it, the smell of it, the feeling of it coming down on you in the middle of the family garden. Oh, how you missed the garden. The dark, wet dirt. Blue puffs of hydrangea against stark-white azaleas, your mother’s coveted yellow roses. The Spanish Moss hanging like phantom sails off the branches of the huge oak tree in the corner, where your father had placed a bench and made a small pond. You would sit under that tree for hours lost in a book, listening to the sounds of the garden.

The fire and brimstone you could endure. It was the way everything else was twisted here that was grueling. As if feeling your lament, a drop of acid rain hit your window, quickly morphing into a full-blown storm. A frustrated growl erupted from you and you rolled onto your stomach, burying your head under your pillow and said a silent prayer to whatever force would grant mercy on your roof. You couldn’t afford to get it fixed again. The prayer had been answered just a moment after the rain stopped, when a drop of it fell from the ceiling and onto your pale, unsuspecting calf, your mattress absorbing the scream of pain that tore through your chest.

As the acid made its way through your leg, and eventually your mattress, all you could do was sob. Eternity… This was eternity.

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If this morning had been good, the day could only now be considered grand.

There was really nothing quite like a post-rain stroll through Cannibal Town, witnessing the misfortune of partially-dissolved sinners who had been caught in the deluge being consumed on the streets by the lively, ever-hungry inhabitants. Alastor would never tire of this jovial bunch that called this part of the Pentagram home, reveling in the sound of screams, the crunching of bone, the almost-lewd and animalistic grunts of feasting.

Were Rosie not expecting him for tea, he might have allowed himself to join in on the fun. Alas, his only solace was that Rosie never served anything less than superb, being the excellent hostess that she is.

He was quite intrigued by her invitation to join her alone, which meant that this likely wasn’t anything to do with donating a small army of cannibals to aid in the fight against the Angels. Indeed, Charlie’s presence would be required once it was time to cash that favor in.

Not that he didn’t enjoy a casual visit (as casual a visit between Overlords could be), he couldn’t help but wonder. Thinking a few steps ahead was a must if one was going to thrive in Hell, and well, it was no secret that Alastor was doing a pretty fine job at that, all things considered. He began to whistle, earning a few gory smiles from cannibals who stopped mid-meal to enjoy the tune. A true honor.

Rosie opened the door for him before he even had the chance to knock, the “Closed for Rain” sign clattering against the glass as she cooed. “Alastorrr! Come in, come in, before it starts raining again.”

As if on queue, a roll of thunder tore through the clouds, drawing a cheer from the denizens of Cannibal Town in anticipation for round two.

“Rosie, my dear, always an honor and a privilege to be deemed worthy of your company,” Alastor said, bowing his head as Rosie feigned a blush, leading him to the parlor where they would be taking their tea.

The usual pleasantries were exchanged between sips of tea, coffee, and candied organs, which Alastor forced himself to consume through sheer courtesy. It was all part of the art of visiting, one he quite enjoyed, and he would never shame his mother’s memory with bad manners. They had just finished a plate of finger sandwiches when Rosie leaned in slightly, the conspiring grin on her face letting him know that it was, at last, time for business.

“You’re always so good to indulge me, Alastor. It doesn’t go unnoticed,” she said, grinning as she motioned to a maid to come grab their empty plates. “I’m sure you’ve been dying to know why I asked you over here this afternoon.”

“Oh, Rosie, it’s purely selfish! You know how hard it is to find good company in this godforsaken place. I’m more than grateful to receive your hospitality,” he said with a trademark smile and flick of the wrist, leaning back in his chair as the maid cleared the table.

She had just turned to leave with their plates when the smile on his face nearly faltered. Was that… almond he smelled? It had been so long, but he was fairly certain it was. There was an underlying trace of blood, though that was common enough around here. But almond? It was too pleasant for Hell.

Rosie’s eyes darkened to match her grin, not missing the twitch of Alastor’s mouth. She knew he’d have been able to smell it. It seemed that so far only Hellborn could pick it up, but what would be the fun in letting him know that?

“Divine, isn’t she? A walking pastry, but not much of a talker. I like to bring her around whenever a room needs some pizzazz! She would’ve been eaten alive had I not taken her in,” Rosie whispered cheekily, as the maid returned with a fresh kettle and a gelatin mold for dessert. Rosie, not missing a beat once the tray had been set down, turned to her with a smile. “Thank you dear, you can leave now. I’ll ring the bell if we need anything else.”

The maid gave a silent curtsy and left the room as instructed, her sweet scent clinging to the air. Since coming to Hell, he took pleasure in the taste of bloody iron, the bite of black coffee. But in life… Memories of marzipan and frangipane tarts swam in his mind. And hadn’t Mother used almonds in her cherry pie crust? It took Alastor all he had not to drool, unsettled by the sudden rush of saliva in his mouth. Ages had passed since he last thought of such sweet things. He cleared his throat with as much grace as he could muster. Rosie only grinned.

“Well, she’s certainly new, so I suppose it’s not surprising she doesn’t talk much. It’s quite easy to tell when a sinner is… adjusting. So morose! You’re very gracious to have taken her on.” Alastor took a sip of coffee, desperate to get that almond smell out of his nostrils.

“We both seem to be rather gracious these days, don’t you think?”

And there it was.

Rosie sat back in her chair and crossed her legs as she continued. “I was actually wondering if perhaps she might fare better in that hotel you’re running. Don’t get me wrong, she smells incredible, but fuck does she suck the air out of a room once the novelty wears off. She was scaring away clients, and you know it’s pretty bad if cannibals are uneasy around you for Christ’s sake, which is why I had her start working back here, but…”

Alastor had to resist gripping his knee, putting all his effort into maintaining a pleasant face. He had expected to be asked for a favor of sorts, but never did he imagine that Rosie wanted him to take on an employee. She’s had sinners sign contracts for little less than a new parasol, let alone a job. There was something more to this.

And beyond being an air freshener, what good was she for, really? He could deal with quiet, but to have to put up with yet another sulky face! What he had done to deserve it, he didn’t know.

But he knew there wasn’t really a choice other than to take the poor creature into his charge. Rosie was an alley he deeply cherished, and he was already in her debt for the help she had provided just weeks ago. This was no doubt the first part of paying that debt back, a sign of goodwill. Not every deal was beneficial from the start; still, Alastor wouldn’t outright accept the offer. That was part of the fun.

“Well we already have a maid,” Alastor said gently, “but after the recent renovation, we are anticipating more sinners to check in. Not that I doubt Niffty’s abilities, but I suppose she could do with some help when business picks up. How long were you thinking of lending her to our cause?”

Rosie waved her hand. “Lend? Oh, honey, if you’re willing to take her, she’s yours. I’ve got plenty of helping hands, but it does me no good to have such a wet blanket hanging around. There’s just the matter of…,” Rosie trailed off as she reached into her purse, retrieving what Alastor already knew she had been grabbing for, “…her contract.”

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#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fan fiction #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #alastor x female reader #alastor smut #hazbin hotel smut #song fic #if i can’t have love i want power #love and power #x reader #slow burn #the radio demon #hazbin hotel slow burn

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writeslikeanaria · 9 months

Text

a storm is brewing

sebastian sallow × reader (technically ominis gaunt x reader)

summary: you and your boyfriend have your private time interrupted by your mutual friend's private time (more writing practice lol)

word count: 1.5k+

warnings: oral (m receiving), voyeurism, p in v, self pleasure, absolute filth, SMUT

It wasn’t unusual of you to be tangled up in the sheets of your boyfriend, your lover, after a long day of grueling school work. It also wasn’t unusual for your limbs to be tangled up as well, with a mixture of arms and legs blurred together in a haze of lust and want.

You were connected by the lips, you and Sebastian, a fait of passion upon you. Tucked into his side, laid across the messy bed, your skin was flushed with a scarlet blush. A few drops of sweat beaded at your forehead, threatening to drip down the side of your head. Long forgotten, the buttons on your blouse had been tugged open, plush breasts seeping through your chemise, and pressed against the body of your boyfriend.

You moaned, deepening the passionate kiss, letting your mouth drop open ever so slightly. With immense greed, you felt Sebastian’s hand, which had been sitting politely on the small of your back, grip against your flesh, as his tongue dipped into your mouth.

You pulled back against your own will. “Holy shit, it’s getting hot.” You chuckled as you caught your breath, lungs happily sucking in healthy gulps of fresh air.

Sebastian let out a breathy laugh. “Not hot enough, I say. You can’t be that hot if you’re still mostly clothed.”

His cheeky suggestion was not lost on you, as Sebastian’s hands skirted across your shoulders, pulling your blouse off completely, and throwing it under his bed, away from suspecting eyes. Next in pursuit came your pesky chemise, Sebastian’s least favourite garment of clothing. You had spent countless hours listening to him groan on and on about the chemise and how it hid away his girls.

As the chemise was removed from your sticky skin, Sebastian immediately delved into your perky breasts, mouth attached to the budding nipples with vigour. You let out an unexpected moan, throwing your head back against the headboard.

His tongue was delightful, thick, and warm, lips pulling on your nipples until they had been formed into peaks, working back and forth between them, as to now leave either one of them out. After a while, you become tedious with Sebastian’s attention on you, electing to elicit some fun as well.

Your wandering hands fell to his pants, still cladded to his lower body, which you personally weren’t too happy yet. Whining like a baby, you palmed your boyfriend’s member, that strained against the material of his pants, clawing to come out. With a pleading look in your eyes, you fluttered your eyelashes.

“Please let me help you out. I need you.”

You were begging, lowering your body, so your head was nearly hovering directly over his sweet crotch. You watched eagerly as Sebastian’s head flicked to the entrance of his dormitories. Nerves were building through his system, which you could tell by the tension flowing through his thighs. After a moment, he turned back to you, and gave an eager nod. “I need you too.”

Ever so excited, you dived in, peeling off the pants that shielded you from your prize, which you had so rightfully one. Oncs you had gotten Sebastian in just his boxers, you leaned downwards, licking a small stripe over his clothed cock. A shiver ran through his body.

A grin formed on your face. “I can’t wait to taste you.”

With your sinful words, Sebastian let out another groan, his body becoming moldable clay as you finally removed his boxers to reveal the most beautiful tool you’ve ever seen. Thick and curved, it stood waiting for you patiently, leaking droplets of rain onto the vast county of his torso. The clouds were coming in, promising rain.

Wrapping your lips around his tip, you mouthed at the blushed head, breathing hot air onto his sensitive skin, all to make him shiver. With a lick from the base to the top, Sebastian had let out his first high pitched moan of the night, something you were eager to hear again.

Unfortunately, just as you were about to push your head fully down the length, the door to the dormitory swung open with a rusty squeal. Alert, you immediately pulled off of Sebastian, noticing the matching fear in his eyes. His first instinct pulled you close to his chest, pulling you down against the covers, in any attempt of saving your modesty. It wasn’t until he heard the next voice that he realised he didn’t have to be so worried.

“Sebastian? Are you here?” His blind friend called, which allowed your boyfriend to let out a sigh of relief, petting the top of your head in a calming manner.

“Yeah, mate.” Sebastian exhaled, cupping your cheek with his hand. “Just having a lie down. Exhausted.”

Ominis chuckled. Peaking your head out of the four poster bed, you looked over to see Ominis, lost in his own actions, focused on whatever task he was trying to achieve. “Isn’t that right. Today’s been mental.”

Sebastian bit his lip nervously. “Going to bed now?”

You crossed your fingers, praying that Ominis would leave so you could get back to what you were doing, but to no avail. “Just gonna lie down too. Maybe go to sleep.”

You pulled your head back up to look at Sebastian, both of you donning an irritated look. Rolling your eyes, you allowed Sebastian to chuckle slightly, as you looked back out to your unsuspecting friend.

“Goodnight then.” Sebastian said.

“Goodnight.”

You watched as the end of Ominis’ wand, the one that usually glowed red at the tip to help him with his directions, lost its usual red spark, signifying that Ominis was about to cast another spell. What you weren’t expecting was clumsy Ominis to drop the wand, watching it roll away slightly. A sharp breath sucked into your mouth as he sprawled to the ground, in search of his wand.

It didn’t take long. Within seconds, Ominis had found the wand, standing back up again, but something was definitely not right. Listening closely, you could hear Ominis mutter a spell under his breath, but his wand seemed to be pointed in the wrong direction now.

“Silenco.”

Ominis, having lost his sense of direction when he dropped his wand, had accidentally cast the spell towards Sebastian’s bed, instead of his own. You were so close to alerting him of his mistake but when Sebastian flashed you a look, you stayed down.

It wasn’t long until you realised what was going on. Whether Sebastian knew this would happen or not, you couldn’t believe your ears as you began to hear the soft moaning from Ominis’ bed. You flashed Sebastian a look, confirming your suspicions.

Ominis was masturbating.

At first, your mouth hung open in shock as you laid petrified against the bed, unsure of what to do, until an idea sparked in your head.

Pulling up your skirt, you slowly swung your leg across Sebastian’s unsuspecting lap. You didn’t even let him speak before you had him straddled, your urges spurred on by the elegant moans of Ominis. His lusting voice was so posh, but so foreign, that the taboo of this all was rather exhilarating. Down below, you could feel the forecasted storm starting to pour down.

It began with a light drizzle, rocking yourself against Sebastian’s bare cock, copying the rhythm you were sure that Ominis was using. If you listened in carefully, you were certain that you could hear the soft squelching sound of hand against dick from behind Ominis’ curtains.

Grinding against Sebastian, your hand crept up his body, until it found residence against his mouth, preventing any slight noises to slip out. Instead, you felt the arousing vibrations against your palm. By now, it was a moderate shower.

“—Oh! Sweet Merlin…”

The sound of Ominis’ husked voice was enough to move you from sensual grinding into something more. Impatience was becoming an overwhelming virtue, as you raised yourself off of Sebastian’s lap, and back down again, but this time, with his cock standing at attendance. As your sopping heat made contact with Sebastian’s cock, a hum of pleasure escaped your lips.

You worked fast, not wanting to take up too much time, not that it would take you long to finish anyways. Hearing the sounds of your best friend moaning someone turned you on more than you liked to admit. Greedy as ever, you bounced against Sebastian’s cock, needing his impending release.

Sebastian spoke through clenched teeth. “I need to cum.”

You smirked. “Not until he does.”

It was a game of cat and mouse, pull and tug. For what it seemed like forever, you bounced on your boyfriend, slowing down when you could hear your friend’s pace faltering, and speeding back up again when his energy spiked. It wasn’t long until you both agreed that Ominis was coming.

What could only be described as a frenzied climax, Ominis let out one long, continuous moan, lifting off the bed so much that you could hear the mattress creek. You bent down to Sebastian’s ear, whispering seductively. “Finish.”

As if he needed anyone to tell him. Sebastian immediately poured into you, releasing everything he had. Triggering your own release, your vision turned to white, your head a swarm of dark clouds, lightning striking through your body, Ominis’ sounds the thunder.

Lifting off from Sebastian’s lap, you let his release pour one of you, giggling as you rained down on his sticky thighs, neither of you mentioning the blond elephant in the room.

damn wtf ariadne this is filth wtf

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow smut #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x reader #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x you #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt smut #hogwarts legacy #fanfic

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cuthalions · 2 years

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My savior Han Joo-won, who actually came to destroy my life.

#beyond evil #beyondeviledit #han joo won #lee dongsik #shin ha kyun #yeo jin goo #kdrama #kdramaedit #mgifs*#i've giffed something similar before but i'm just still obsessed with all of this #immaculate.#and that handmaiden quote... thank you for everything kim soo jin #in the grueling rain it is just them.

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pippytmi · 2 months

Text

kacy + a break-up AU based on this prompt list: "you’re my emergency contact and i’ve been in an accident so you drop everything to come to the hospital"

———————————————————————

The thing no one says about breakups is that they're an utter inconvenience.

Kate tries to rationalize it; she was dating Lucy Tara for twelve months and thirteen days, it's only natural to have established a routine that will take some time to unlearn. So when she wakes up and reaches for a warm body that isn't there, it still takes a while to remember why. And when she makes her morning coffee, maybe sometimes she will pour the creamer that Lucy likes by accident. (By the end of the week, she will have to pour the whole container down the drain). That’s normal too. Mostly.

Lucy’s absence hits the most in the morning, but Kate goes through the motions anyway. Before Lucy she would always take her coffee outside and sit on the balcony to watch the sunrise, so she still does it. Of course now there’s no Lucy wrapped up in a blanket and insistently making her way onto Kate’s lap to sleep while she does it, but. Kate sips from her mug and watches the clouds roll in over the gloomy horizon and pretends nothing has changed.

The drive to work is quiet save for the gentle patter of rain against her windows. Her radio is still set to the station Lucy likes, and Kate hasn’t managed to change it. Baby steps—that’s all it takes. Maybe tomorrow Kate might have the courage to switch it back to her own.

And when everything at home is too loud and simultaneously too empty, there’s work. Kate gets to her desk and finds a mountain of files with new assignments, and she welcomes them with open arms; her work has always been separate from Lucy, and it's the one constant she doesn't need to readjust to.

For a blissful hour and a half, Kate is in her own world. She argues with a client about what confidentiality means (and what it doesn't). She reschedules the deposition of a plaintiff on a particularly high-profile case because opposing counsel has accidentally double-booked. She creates an Excel spreadsheet to keep track of her new cases but organizes the clients by market value.

By all accounts, her morning is shaping up considerably. That is, until her cell phone starts buzzing.

She ignores the first call from the unknown number flashing on the screen. Instead, she gets coffee from the awful machine in the break room. The second call comes thirty minutes later, and Kate ignores it again, spends her time politely explaining how to use the fax machine to her confused new paralegal.

When her phone rings a third time—just as Kate has gotten out of a grueling meeting with the senior attorneys which should've been an email—she answers it solely for peace of mind: “This is Kate.”

There's a brief shuffle on the other end. “Hi, I'm calling from St. Joseph Hospital for a Katherine Whistler?”

“Speaking,” Kate says curtly, prepared to give a spiel about how she won't donate at this time when the caller continues,

“Oh—good morning.” More shuffling. “Is this a good time? I have a sensitive matter to discuss.”

Kate frowns even if the person on the other line can't see it. “Yes, it's fine,” she says, and watches as her work phone lights up with another call that she will just have to return later.

“I'm calling on behalf of a patient: Lucy Tara. She has you listed as her emergency contact. She is unresponsive and we were wondering if you could come in to discuss the particulars of her care…”

The rest of the call is static. Kate almost drops her phone entirely, only grasping onto select words like they're a lifeline. Lucy is alive. Lucy is hurt. Lucy was found unconscious. Lucy has yet to wake up. Lucy is alive.

Kate doesn't even tell anyone she's leaving; she just goes. Later, senior attorney Michael Curtis will tell Kate that she looked extremely pale and sickly when rushing out of the office, but Kate will only remember a vague blur from that phone call to actually arriving at the hospital. It might be the most reckless thing she’s ever done, come to think of it.

Dr. Carla Chase is the physician assigned to Lucy’s care, and she takes one look at Kate and blinks as if surprised to see her. “Forget an umbrella?”

“I'm sorry?” Kate says, heart caught dangerously high in her throat. She's literally choking on worry—Dr. Chase’s words don't sink in until she takes a step forward and realizes she is currently dripping all over the linoleum floor.

Dr. Chase gives her a small, sympathetic smile. “Let me ease your mind,” she says. “Ms. Tara woke up. Our timeline is good, she was not unconscious for long. Has a concussion and a nasty bump, but she's going to be just fine.”

Kate breathes. “Oh,” she says shakily, and embarrassingly, hot tears spring to her eyes at the confirmation. “That's…great. Thank you.”

“You can come inside, see her. I'll go find you a towel.” Even though Kate is a sopping mess, Dr. Chase still pauses to place a hand on her shoulder and squeeze reassuringly.

Even with the worst over, the hardest part is still walking into the room—harder still is watching as Lucy looks up with those wide, curious eyes that become expressionless the instant she sees Kate.

“Kate? What are you doing here?” Lucy asks, voice not quite harsh but definitely not welcoming.

Kate opens her mouth, but is unable to form words. She's too stuck just staring at Lucy: at the bruise that colors the entirety of the swell of her cheek, at the large bandage over her jaw, at the purpling of her black eye. Any relief at knowing that Lucy is awake sinks into horror at the state of Lucy’s injuries.

“Kate,” Lucy repeats, frowning. “Why do you look like someone died?” A beat. “And why are you wet?”

“The—the hospital called me,” Kate manages. “Are you okay? How are you…how are you feeling?”

“I'm fine. I just fell down a stupid mountain.” Lucy smooths down her blanket, twisting the corner between her fingertips the way she does when she's uncomfortable.

“A mountain?”

“It's not as dramatic as it sounds,” Lucy says. “Kai and I were searching for a missing kid and we got separated, and with the rain it was muddy and foggy and…well, you get it.”

“And he left you there? Unconscious?” Kate has met Kai Holman once or twice, and knows very little about him except that just like Lucy, he volunteers for search and rescue missions to escape his normal job. Beyond that, Kate’s opinion of him is quickly going downhill.

“He wasn't there when it happened,” Lucy argues. “I already texted him and explained, but, I told him he didn't have to come see me or anything.” She stops. “So why did you come?”

“Because the hospital called,” Kate says again, which is pretty self-explanatory.

Apparently, Lucy does not feel the same way. “But you didn't have to answer the phone,” she points out. “We’re not together. You could've just said ‘sorry, she’s my ex’ and called it a day.”

Kate stiffens. “You're the one who has me as your emergency contact. It was the…decent thing to do,” she says.

Lucy rolls her eyes. “Okay, congratulations,” she says, “you have done your civic duty of not being an asshole. But I’m alright, so you can go back to deep-sea diving in your pantsuit or whatever you were up to before this.”

“Hold on,” Kate says, a flare of panic overtaking any objection she might have to Lucy’s disdain (which is completely unwarranted, by the way). “How are you getting home?”

“They’ve invented a modern miracle called an Uber, not sure if you heard.” Lucy waves her phone exaggeratedly. “I’ll survive.”

It's an out, and Kate should take it. She should walk out that door and never look back, let all the unsaid issues between them continue to morph and mutate into something ugly and irreversible. But she can’t.

“I’ll drive you home,” Kate says at last.

Lucy immediately shakes her head. “That’s not necessary,” she says. “Seriously. If you’re that against Ubers, I can call Kai and get him here in two seconds. He’d be more than happy to take me home.”

“That would be unnecessary. I’m already here.”

“And you don’t have to be,” Lucy reiterates, staring Kate down like she expects her to cave.

If it were any other situation, Kate would. She's soaked head to toe from the rain, she has no obligation to be here, and by all accounts either reason would be a rational excuse to extradite herself from this hospital. Especially the former—the chill of her wet clothes is finally beginning to catch up to her, and she blindly brushes back her damp hair while resisting the urge to shiver. It would be the rational decision to go home and change into warm clothes (and explain to her boss why she left without as much as a text explaining why).

But for once in her life, Kate isn't being rational. “I'm not leaving,” she says, crossing her arms in an attempt to look firm.

Lucy sighs, sagging backwards against her pillow. “Come on, Kate,” she says. “This is awkward enough. I don't need a babysitter after one tiny little fall.”

“Down a mountain,” Kate says, unable to let that fact go. “What do your parents think about this?”

“I…might've not told them. Exactly.” Lucy bites her lip in an obvious effort not to wince. “I asked for the day off when I woke up, so.”

Kate blinks. “You woke up after a traumatic fall,” she says slowly, “and…asked your parents for PTO.”

“I wouldn't call it traumatic. That's such an ugly word. Limiting, even,” Lucy says. “It would've been a total badass move if it hadn't been, you know, raining.”

A knock against the wall announces Dr. Chase’s arrival, who has thankfully brought Kate that towel. “How are we doing?” she asks.

“Ready to get out of here,” Lucy says, sitting up eagerly. “Whenever you say so, doc.”

“Well, I really would recommend a CT scan to be on the safe side,” Dr. Chase says. “But given that you've passed all our cognitive tests and your vision is good, I can consider a discharge…as long as you have someone at home to monitor you today and make sure no further symptoms arise. And no sleeping until your normal bedtime.”

“I’ll be with her,” Kate interjects as she towels off her hair. Lucy looks like she might argue, but her desire to leave must win out, because she doesn't speak up.

“Fantastic. Let me get your discharge paperwork and a prescription for some painkillers—all over the counter. Then we're going to have a serious discussion about what you should and should not do, okay?”

“Got it. Thanks, Dr. Chase,” Lucy says cheerfully, but the instant the doctor leaves, so does her smile. “What was that? You obviously can't stay with me.”

“I know,” Kate says defensively, even if—for a second—she had been completely prepared to. “I'm sure Ernie or Jane can monitor your symptoms just fine.”

“...yeah,” Lucy agrees slowly, as if she had been expecting Kate to argue. Then, “Oh, shit. I actually forgot to tell Jane I'm here.” She frantically opens her phone and starts texting up a flurry, her brow crinkling as she concentrates on her screen, and Kate is brought back to movie nights spent scouring Wikipedia articles and faux-arguing over date night picks and it's…too much.

This is the opposite of unlearning; this is an all too painful reminder that Lucy Tara is no longer in her life. Kate wrings the damp towel between her hands and takes a deep breath to save face. At the very least, Lucy doesn't seem to have caught on to Kate’s internal turmoil, because when she looks up again all the cheerfulness from before is back.

Kate knows in that instant she never wants Lucy to lose that cheer again. “Everything okay?” she asks, aiming for just-polite-enough interest, and Lucy is gracious enough to allow it.

“They found the missing girl,” Lucy says, sagging backwards in obvious relief. “Thank God.” When she smiles, even if it’s down at her phone, Kate nearly tears up all over again.

“That’s great.” Kate clears her throat, places her hands in her (wet) pockets, and tries very hard to act casual. “So is Jane going to stay with you, then?”

“No—she’s the one who found the kid, she has to stay and give the police a statement,” Lucy mutters, biting her lip distractedly as she types out another message. “I’ll see what Ernie’s up to.”

By the time Dr. Chase comes back with discharge paperwork and a spiel about avoiding screens (during which Lucy noticeably peeks at Kate, like she might rat her out), Kate has already resolved herself to zero interference. Obviously it’s not what she wants, but she listens to Dr. Chase and nods along at all the right times while in her head she is already drafting a very long message to Ernie with all the relevant information. Then she drives Lucy home to that bleak apartment that Lucy lives in mostly as a general “fuck you” to her parents, which Kate swears is either haunted or infested by very spirited roaches.

The entire ride there, Lucy doesn’t say anything about the car’s radio being set to her favorite station (and which Kate would always complain about), which is just as well. Kate isn’t sure how she would’ve explained it.

“This not sleeping thing sucks, I’m honestly dead tired with our without a concussion,” Lucy groans as she exits the vehicle, stretching her arms overhead.

Kate follows her outside, and when Lucy gives her a questioning look, she says, “Ernie’s not here yet, is he? I can at least wait with you until he does.”

“I’m sure I can survive thirty minutes alone, Kate,” Lucy says. “I won’t pass out the instant you walk away or anything.”

“I’d really rather wait,” Kate says, and Lucy sighs.

“Fine. God, I would’ve changed my emergency contact ASAP if I’d known you would be such a stickler for lame hospital rules.” Lucy wraps herself up in a large black hoodie which Kate recognizes as her own, still muddy from the fall but otherwise intact.

“Why did you?” Kate finds herself asking, mouth three steps ahead of her head, and Lucy pauses outside her apartment door.

“You mean why didn’t I change it? Because I forgot, I wasn’t exactly expecting to land in the hospital.”

“No, why…why did you make me your emergency contact in the first place?” Kate clarifies, her voice strangely quiet even to her own ears.

Lucy methodically unlocks her door, but her hands falter. “Just because,” she says at last. “You know how it is. Anything was better than my parents. Sorry I didn’t…ask you first.”

“Well, I mean,” Kate shrugs, “I didn’t ask you either.”

At that, Lucy whirls around, mouth agape. “You made me your emergency contact?”

Kate hesitates. “Yes? After like six months. It was a practical decision, we spent pretty much all our time together and I assumed…”

Somehow, she’s said the wrong thing, because Lucy’s eyes darken. “Right.” She moves away, digging through her fridge in search of something to drink, and Kate awkwardly leans against the kitchen counter and tries to make sense of what’s going on.

“Did you eat anything today?” Kate attempts to change the subject. “I can make you something before Ernie gets here.”

Lucy takes a gulp of a water bottle and doesn’t respond, just eyes Kate from across the kitchen with a sharp, unyielding glare. Finally, the words seem to burst out: “I wish you weren’t so—fucking—” She shakes her head. “Do you even know how you sound, sometimes? No girl wants to hear that they’re the practical choice. Just once, I wish you’ve would picked me because you wanted me.”

Kate feels her entire body prickle, partly in shock and partly in indignation. “What are you talking about? I did pick you.”

“Did you?” Lucy tilts her head. “”Cause it kind of feels like you picked the idea of me. At least, that’s how Cara tells it.”

“Seriously? Cara? She—” Kate pauses to exhale, swallows back a frustrated sob. “She’s wrong. I’ve never trusted anyone like I trust you. Fuck, I’ve never loved anyone like I love you.” This time, her voice quivers like the sob might escape, and some of the steel in Lucy’s gaze softens.

“Then why did you leave?”

“I thought that was what you wanted,” Kate says. “You were pushing me away, Lucy. What was I supposed to think?”

“You should’ve fought harder for me,” Lucy says. “You could have talked to me. Jesus, Kate, I don’t—I can’t have this conversation right now. I’m basically a prisoner in my house, this is the last thing I need.”

Kate’s shoulders fall. “I know,” she says. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t do that either,” Lucy snaps, and she chugs the remainder of her water before she stalks out of the room. “No apologies. Okay?”

“Okay.” Kate waits to see if Lucy will come back to the kitchen, but she doesn’t. Instead, she hears the tell-tale sound of Lucy banging around through her board game drawer, because the chess set Ernie gave her rattles and gives it away. Kate tentatively enters the living room, finds Lucy sorting through a Monopoly box, but doesn’t try to say anything else.

Lucy breaks the silence all on her own, eventually. “I have nothing to cook,” she says. “But I asked Ernie to bring food with him.”

“Alright.” Kate doesn’t sit down because her clothes are still damp, but she does wait by the couch. “Can I help with anything?”

“No.” Lucy is sitting cross-legged on the floor and carefully stacking Monopoly money into piles by color, her muddy hoodie occasionally smearing against the carpet. “I’m fine.” She obviously isn’t; her jaw is clenched, her back stiff, her entire demeanor still a perfect mirror of her anger.

Kate wisely doesn’t push. And when Ernie arrives carrying Thai food and a thick stack of books which Lucy is outwardly horrified at, Kate doesn’t try to stay.

“I’m going to send you the doctor’s discharge instructions,” she tells Ernie instead, as Lucy gingerly pokes through one of the books Ernie has handed off. “Make sure Lucy eats something before she takes her meds.”

“On it, Dr. Whistler,” Ernie says seriously, his voice going low so Lucy can’t hear afterward. “And thanks, for being there. Even if you two aren’t…”

Kate casts one final look at Lucy Tara, bundled up in her clothes and adorably pouting at the prospect of reading all night instead of playing board games, and feels her heart beat so hard it hurts. “Take care of her,” she says, but it’s not a request.

Ernie gives her a small, sad smile. “I will.”

Lucy doesn’t say goodbye, but she does spare Kate one brief, sorrowful once-over like she wants to. Kate memorizes that look—lets it linger in the back of her mind—and doesn’t cry until the first cheery pop song from Lucy’s favorite station starts playing on the drive home.

She hits the button to turn off the radio altogether, but her finger slips and she accidentally switches stations instead. Kate eases the car to a stop at a red light, watches as rain begins to drizzle once more, and then she makes the executive decision to switch it back.

Baby steps.

#something about these two & their exes era....they have me in a chokehold im ngl #kacy #kate x lucy #ncis hawaii #i listened to 'emergency contact' by PTV a million times writing this btw. song of all time #i need a fic tag

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rascal-xo · 1 year

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Hi :) first of all, I already made a request for you a month ago. And I was very happy with the outcome of it. So if you are bored sometime in the future, here is another request:

Its Holidays (You can choose which, I believe spring would be cool because it would probably rain) and the whole 141 are by their family members. So since Ghost got none, he stays at the military. Since the reader is new in the crew she doesn't know that he always stays at there.

You came home late from a mission which took longer than expected. You go to bed and can't sleep so you decide to make tea and you are surprised the you meet Simon there. You tell him that you don't have a family too and it gets kind of angsty. From then on you could decide how the story goes on...

Are they just sleeping together on the couch or is it going to continue in a more smutty way? Who knows?

Thanks in advance 🪸

When It Rains, It Pours | Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Female Reader |

Chapter Summary: You and Simon happen to be the only two on base during spring break.

Warnings: Language, Fluff, mentions of loss, trauma, a bit of sexual undertones.

Word Count: 1.6K

A/N: I’m so happy you liked the last request I wrote for!! I hope you enjoy this one too :)) Might do a pt.2 so lmk 🫶🏼

PT. 2 HERE

You had just returned from a 2 week long grueling mission, and the rain was pouring down on you as you stepped off of the plane, and onto base.

It was almost night, and the sky was gloomy and dark. You're were still wearing your gear, and the weight of it had been pressing down on your tired muscles, making them ache even more.

Your head was pounding, and you could feel your heartbeat in your ears. You let yourself look up at the sky and let the rain wash over you, feeling the cold drops soaking through the layer of your clothes that weren’t covered by the vest, and let it seep onto your skin.

You were exhausted and sore, but you knew that you had done your duty and completed the mission. Despite the rain and the fatigue, you felt a sense of satisfaction that came from knowing that you had gone through with your orders successfully.

Laswell had a lot of hope on the line with you as the new Marine recruit for the 141. Herself and Captain Price had picked your file from the dozens of qualified soldiers.

As you stepped inside the familiar lodging’s building, you were met with a silence. You dropped your duffel bag, then remembering you would the only one here.

The team had all been given time off for the spring holidays, to go to their respective homes and find some rest. You on the other hand had taken on more work instead, not having the ‘luxury’ of something to go back to.

It was better that way. You would be far more comfortable here where you had a sense of security on base, even if you were alone.

You made your way to your room, shedding off your gear and leaving it in a neat pile by the door. You could feel your muscles relaxing just from the act of removing the weight from your body.

You decided to take a warm shower to ease your sore muscles, hoping it would also help to clear your head. You turned the faucet on and stepped into the warm stream, feeling the hot water wash away the grime and dirt from your skin.

Taking your time in the shower, not wanting to rush the experience, you washed your hair, feeling the suds massage your scalp and the warm water rinse it away. You ran your hands over your body, feeling every inch of your skin, enjoying the sensation of finally being clean.

After what felt like an eternity, you reluctantly turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. You walked over to your small closet and grabbed a random Marine labeled t-shirt that you had around from your BMT trainee days. You slipped it on and felt the familiar comfort of the cotton against your skin.

Despite the warm shower, you found yourself unable to sleep. You tossed and turned in your bed, trying to find a comfortable position, but nothing seemed to work. You couldn't shake the feeling of unease that lingered in your chest, and the sound of heavy rain hitting the roof only added to your restlessness.

After what felt like an eternity, you finally gave up and sat up in bed, letting out a frustrated sigh. You rubbed your eyes, feeling the exhaustion weighing heavy on your body, but your mind refused to let you rest.

You decided to get up and make yourself some tea, hoping the warm drink would help soothe your nerves somehow. As you made your way to the kitchen area, you were lost in your thoughts, trying to gather your uneasiness.

You didn't notice another person hunched over, sitting on the couch until you were only a few feet away. Startled, you let out a gasp, and Simon looked up at you, his knives in his hands.

"You scare easily, Sergeant." He spoke, teasing yet absolutely serious in his tone.

"Sorry, I didn't think anyone else was here." You answered softly, before going to find any sort of tea you could make. Unbeknownst to you, Simon watched you going about your business, trying not to let yourself make eye contact with him.

As you busied yourself with making tea, Simon remained silent, observing you with a keen eye. He had been on a mission as well, but he had managed to complete it earlier and had returned to base before you, staying true to his callsign.

After a few moments, he stood up and walked over to you, his knives left on the coffee table where he had been cleaning them off. "Why aren't you home, Sergeant." His voice was deep, but his eyes held a glint of curiosity.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you wanted to open up to someone, but something in his demeanor made you feel like you could trust him. "There's no home to be at." you admitted, taking a sip of the hot tea a little too quickly before it had cooled, making you bite back a hiss. "What about you?"

Simon took a moment to consider your question, his expression unreadable. "I stick around here, Sergeant." he finally replied, not going any further into detail. "Can't sleep?" You leaned back against the edge of the counter, a couple of feet in front of the Lt.

His demeanor was a bit more relaxed than you were accustomed to seeing him. His heavy camo and skull mask were replaced with sweats and a plain black balaclava, only revealing his deep brown eyes. For the first time you could clearly see his tattoos, with his sleeves pushed up to his forearms.

"Can't catch much of it these days." You spoke, letting the hot mug rest in your hands. You could feel his piercing gaze on you, while you tried not to meet his eyes.

Simon remained silent for a moment, taking in your words. "Doesn't get much better if you're always this tense, I'm afraid." He might not have been joking, but you found humor in his blatant honesty.

"I'm not the tense one." You claimed back, a small tired smile playing at your lips. It was strange yet comforting to have someone else here, especially that someone you had never really spoken to before. outside of a professional setting.

He suddenly walked up closer to you, taking the mug from your hands and placing it on the counter. "Turn around." He asserted. You wondered if his field voice was just his all-the-time voice, but nonetheless you followed his direction.

He wasn't completely what had gotten into him so suddenly, seeing you in the kitchen barefaced and vulnerable to your surroundings. He had taken a keen liking to having you on the team, but even more having you to himself.

His hands found themselves on your upper shoulders, causing you to jerk a little. He immediately felt how tense you were, but being under his touch didn't exactly lighten that sensation.

Simon began to knead your shoulders, you felt the tension melting away. He worked his way to your arms, his strong hands working out the knots and kinks in your muscles. You couldn't help but let out a contented sigh as you leaned back against him, feeling the warmth of his body seeping into yours. It felt wrong, letting your Lieutenant touch you like that, but it felt too good to stop.

"You don't have to, Lt-"

"Simon." His voice was low this time, soft, but he didn't stop. You suddenly felt self conscious, realizing you had failed to put on any pants under your t shirt that was coming down your upper thighs.

Your heart started racing a bit as you tried to subtly pull your shirt down, hoping to cover more of your legs. Simon must have noticed your movement, but he didn't comment on it. Instead, he continued massaging your arms, his touch firm yet gentle.

His touch was surprisingly gentle for someone so strong, and you found yourself relaxing into it despite your initial reservations. As the tension in your body continued to melt away, you couldn't help but feel grateful for Simon's unexpected gesture.

After a few minutes, his hands gradually slowed down and eventually came to a stop. You turned around to face him, feeling a little bit awkward but also strangely comforted by his presence. You weren't sure what had just happened, but you knew it was something you couldn't ignore.

Your tea had gone cold, being the last thing you could think about in the moment. You stood there for a moment, just looking at each other. The air between you heavy with unspoken words, and for a moment it felt like he was seeing right through you.

You finally broke the silence, "Si-" Which was suddenly cut off by his mouth coming down onto yours.

Your mind went blank for a moment as you felt Simon's lips pressing against yours. The sensation was both familiar and foreign at the same time. You had never imagined that anything like this could happen between the two of you, but now that it was happening, it felt almost inevitable.

You tentatively kissed him back, your arms wrapping around his neck as he deepened the kiss. It was like a floodgate had been opened, all the pent-up desire and attraction suddenly spilling out between you.

As you pulled away, gasping for air, you both looked at each other with a mix of surprise and intensity. This was new territory for both of you, and you weren't quite sure what to do next.

Who knew something so wrong could feel so right.

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laylajeffany · 2 months

Text

Intentions are Everything | Chaos Universe OneShot for @fridayd13th

Summary: Wednesday and Enid (age 22) reconnect on a rainy night after routine and the season of life they are in keep them apart. WC: 4k exactly (welcome to layla's <5k challenge) Rated: T (I’m at work it would absolutely end best in sex but a Clifford the Big Red Dog stuffie is looking at me in my supply closet and I feel judged.)

Note: As I’m experimenting with some new writing rules for myself to set myself to different standards and expectations for future projects (not even fanfiction); I’m weaponizing my competence and refusing to use my available contract hours assisting others who do not have withitness and follow-through. When I’m at work and not with the children on a break per required of my union contract, I’m locking myself in my supply closet to write! I'm too efficient! Everything is done through April! However, it’s simply not the correct setting to be working on my multi-chapter work; I need at least two hours at a time for that. These one-shots have to be prompted by someone else (I can’t have stewing on the content), under 5K, and I’m not allowed to work on them at home. I'll probably upload these to AO3 once I have a few of them complete.

The prompt "Wenclair/Domestic/Chaos Universe/Rainy Day" was from @fridayd13th - thank you so much for everything you’ve done to support my writing over the last year, and all the other fanfic authors you have impacted by your sharing, comments, and kindness. Thank you! & a Black Menagerie update is in the editing phase and will be up tomorrow sometime!

It wasn’t supposed to rain.

And not just because she already had outdoor plans, but there hadn’t been a drop forecasted (Wednesday had been checking obsessively). If there was a way to light the sky on fire, she surely would have…only to have that flame extinguished, immediately – like her carefully structured night out.

That was dramatic. (Wasn’t she always? And to think, Enid was the one at the theater that evening.) With a silent pivot, Wednesday adjusted course without hesitating, not wanting to waste a moment, even if it included one of the heaviest sighs she’d ever released. She couldn’t be taken down by reanimated corpses of bigots, genocidal maniacs, werewolf councils, Hydes, or the weather.

Life had gotten between herself and her fiancée over the last few months, and as she managed to be surprised by a late April rain, it showed. Between her endless lectures, bookwork, and mock trials, Network meetings and Enid’s grueling six-day-a-week performance schedule that only had her off on Mondays (Wednesday’s latest day at law school, naturally), their time together that didn’t involve one of them working on something was rare and precious. After a heated argument the week before, ended by the redhead who lived in the basement unit of their townhouse, Wednesday had stormed off to New Jersey. A train ride and taxi to her family’s home had her barreling into her mother’s study wet (it had been raining then too), upset, and in the foulest of moods.

It had taken Morticia quite some time to put together the fractured pieces of information her daughter was revealing and advise the same thing that the other wise woman in her life already had; Enid and Wednesday just needed to spend meaningful time together. When all of their hours in one another’s space were domestic routines and transitional time trying to catch each other up on the latest without being part of it, they were bound to spat.

Enid had been more than a little bit upset that Wednesday’s solution to their problem was running away and had hotly asked for the night apart when Morticia said that she thought it would be more practical for Lurch to drop her off than deal with the train again. At the notion of spending the night alone in her parents’ house settled in, Wednesday had a meltdown the likes of which they hadn’t seen from her in years. Morticia had slept with her when she finally convinced her to at least lay down, likely in fear that she was going to slip into a meditation and wind up in the wrong side of the ether because of her twisted energy.

The next morning, she’d had a long and overdue chat about romance with both her parents. They spoke from the heart – it was mushy and disgusting. Their own experiences made her want to bury her head in the sand. Yet - Wednesday had desperately needed to hear it. She and Enid were a far cry from the two of them. Though she might’ve possessed some Gomez-like traits every now and again, Wednesday was her own, unique breed and would love her own way, too. But, to her chagrin, hearing their perspective did help – and it put her plan into motion.

Enid wasn’t home when Wednesday arrived – she had a matinee that afternoon and then an evening show as well. With all her focus, Wednesday tidied up their apartment not only in proper order, but also made sure she’d put Enid’s favorite sheets on the bed, started the incense she liked the best, and ordered all her prized snacks for the week when she had groceries delivered. After a long talk with the couple downstairs, about recovering from a blow-out (they were more than familiar with that topic), Wednesday also committed herself to certain actions for the week ahead.

Unfortunately – the experimental medication she was on, after the sleepless night before, forced her to fall asleep when she laid in bed, trying to write a formal apology to her fiancée – afraid of forgetting something if she just tried to speak it all. It would still be from the heart, but scripted so she made sure to make every point.

That was how Enid woke her up with sweet, gentle kisses when she’d gotten home from her show, close to eleven. She had a fresh release of tears, and Wednesday’s notebook in her hand, stroking her cheeks and promising – she was forgiven, and that she was also sorry, for how she’d responded and reacted to everything.

In her grogginess, Wednesday made a promise – that she was going to give Enid a real date; she was going to honor her with something special, not routine, not a drive-by conversation. She wanted to give her a night that Enid could treasure.

And so, with two hours until her show released that Friday, Wednesday cooked, baked, transformed the attic space and prepared the environment with all the heart and ambiance-creating ability she had.

Locating her umbrella and stepping into black Wellies, she took the pink ones by the door into her hands and a jacket when she realized the temperature dipped as well. With a black and white striped snake over her shoulders tucked into her collar to stay dry, she made the familiar trek out of their Upper West Side apartment to Midtown – a journey she used to take when she was committed to making it to Enid’s show at least once a week.

How quickly things changed when novelty wore off. She hadn’t been to the theater in at last four months, she realized – vowing to change that, too.

One metro ride and a few blocks walked in the rain later, she stood outside the theater door, grateful the rain would keep most of the obsessive, obnoxious out-of-towners from lining up for autographs. Her snake poked his head out curiously when the door opened a few times, hoping for Enid, but it was always orchestra first, Wednesday reminded Augustus softly.

Thankfully, she didn’t have to wait long. Only three other cast members groaned at the rain before heading out themselves before Enid let out a full whine upon opening the door, then a completely delighted gasp. “Wednesday! Ohemgee, you did not have to come all the way here!”

“I didn’t want you caught in this beautiful weather without proper gear,” She said, passing Enid’s rainboots to her. She let out an excited squeak of appreciation, dipping back in and swapping her shoes, then accepting the rain jacket before positioning herself under Wednesday’s umbrella, wrapping an arm around her waist. Holding the handle and depositing a kiss to her lips, ignoring how she still had on her stage makeup and dreadful, bright red lipstick that probably transferred, Wednesday clarified, “There is an obvious change in plans from our rooftop dining experience in Brooklyn. But our evening is not ruined, simply altered.”

“Awe, well – that’s so sweet. I didn’t even know it had started to rain! I’m glad I don’t have to be super bummed out, either. Thanks for taking care of everything! Hey – how was the exam?”

“Grueling. Torture. It took me every available moment to finish. Naturally, I scored a hundred four,” Wednesday said with a little smirk as the sky emptied itself onto the city, hard raindrops rattling the waterproof covering above them as they moved to the subway station. “And the show?”

“The usual,” Enid shrugged. “Friday night crowds are notoriously off – though this one wasn’t so bad. I don’t know. It’s been almost seven months now – there’s rumblings about auditions the Crazy for You revival moving to the US, I’d for sure be auditioning for that – this role has me feeling a little...locked in. I’m not, like, over it – but I’d be up for something different.”

“Insert here a cheesy line about being crazy for you in any show you’re billed in. I also recognized on my way here – I haven’t come out to watch in so long. I’m genuinely sorry for the pacing of our time together and the inadequacies I’ve brought, Enid.”

“Oh, you do not need to apologize for that, Wednesday! This is my job, as much as it’s art. It’s not like I’m going to catch you in the courtroom on any kind of regular basis – that’d probably be sups inappropriate. Well – we know in the future that I’ll see you in the Supreme Court – but that’s like, you coming to opening night of me as a leading lady. It’s different. I don’t expect my partner at a weekly curtain call.”

“Still,” She said as they waited on the platform after taking the slippery stairs down, keeping her umbrella folded low to drip onto the already sopping tile, “I do like watching you perform. Even if this isn’t my favorite show – I’d like to see you soon. I’ll leave father and Em behind, though.”

Enid giggled. “I don’t mind their…enthusiastic reception to my stage presence,” Enid found careful words as the train arrived – packed, of course, for a Friday night on the 1 in Midtown. Finding a place to stand where they wouldn’t be absorbing too much liquid from others who’d been caught in the rainstorm unprepared, they took the short ride back uptown, making it home just as another couple was about to enter their shared foyer.

Emiliana and Josie were soaked to the bone, obviously caught in the storm, and in Emiliana’s case – thrilled about it. Josie looked a little less than enthusiastic and both Wednesday and Enid backed away when her wife tried to embrace them. “It’s their date night, too – leave them alone,” Josie warned, tugging her back by the shoulders with a sigh.

“Well, I do not think they are going to be dining on roofs, bien-aimée!” Emiliana argued, about to go in again when Josie popped the lock on the lower-level unit with a groan, wishing the girls a good night – whatever they ended up doing, before ushering Emiliana downstairs while she spoke rapidly in French about which movie she wanted to watch and why would she need a shower, she was already wet?

Unable to hide her smirk, Wednesday took off her boots, setting them on a rug while Enid popped the umbrella open to dry off (chancing her luck) and shrugged out of her coat, hanging both damp garments on a hook before locking the main door, then opening their own when they entered the kitchen.

Enid’s enhanced smell must’ve picked up right away what Wednesday had baked for her. She looked at her with a little gasp, a near twinkle in her eye. “You didn’t? You did! Oh, Wednesday!”

“Snickerdoodles are upstairs already,” She said quietly – hating the way that ridiculous word rolled off her tongue; but if they were Enid’s favorite, easy-to-prepare desert – of course. “As is everything else that I could prepare in advance, there are a few things I need to finish now. Everything you need for your favorite bath is out and ready for you.”

“Awe, not possible,” Enid said with a little pout. Wednesday crossed her arms, suspicious about that – Enid’s preferences had hardly changed since she was seventeen and they first started their innocent soaks together. “You won’t be in it!”

Almost snorting, she rolled her eyes and kissed Enid’s cheek. “I cannot be two places at once. Yet. I’m still working on that spell. Go on – I’ll meet you upstairs in thirty minutes.”

“Alright. Thank you, Wednesday.” She returned the sweet little kiss before shaking her head and planting a long one on her lips, despite the lipstick. Wednesday refused to cringe, merely returned it before Enid pulled away with a laugh, wiping the red off her with her thumb. “I frickin’ love you.” With that she winked and headed up the stairs of the narrow unit.

Putting the rest of her plan into motion, Wednesday poured her attention into finishing the meal that she’d started, heading up to the attic to light the candles with a wave of her hand to complete the ambiance she’d started to set up.

Bringing up the last of the food on a butler’s tray she’d stolen from home ages before, Wednesday glanced at the time, hearing the sound of a drain circling. Taking her place up near the small, circular window that was pattered in rain. She lifted the bow of her cello, starting to play a melody of their favorite songs.

Enid took a familiar place on the bench in front of the window, watching Wednesday with a look of love she could see out of the corner of her eye. Her snake traveled from Wednesday’s neck to Enid’s pink, loungewear covered shoulders, licking her cheek, making her smile.

Finally finishing, she stood up, taking Enid’s hands, kissing her fingers before tucking her at the low table of the attic in front of the futon. Plating her a favorite rare beef dish, Wednesday started the small record player on an entertainment unit before taking a seat beside her.

They ate with comfortable conversation flowing – Enid brought up the show she was interested in again, Wednesday asked her to describe the plot – and stared at her with hearts in her eyes as she animatedly detailed the storyline and the roles she’d want to play within it. As she stacked the dirty dishes, moving the tray to the stairs, Wednesday put the cookies on the table, then flushed a little as she began to remove materials out of a basket. Giving a shrug, she hoped that she was matching the energy the moment called for as she explained, “We were going to go to that gallery…but – I…maybe you want to make something to add to ours up here?”

She gestured to the various crafts that Enid had hung up above the futon – a few embroidery pieces she’d experimented with, paintings, collages…

Enid nodded brightly. “I’d love to make something with you.”

The next forty minutes were spent painting on a canvas, the two working together to come up with an inspired design – an interpretation of their snake in the springtime – Augustus looking at it and offering his feedback, requesting more pale pink cherry blossom petals all around him.

As they finished, Wednesday took the dirty brushes and palette along with the dishes, hurrying them down to the sink before returning with a bottle of wine and two glasses. Enid had moved to the cushions, her expression of dopy desire a bit contagious as Wednesday poured her a glass and took a seat. She indicated her own intentions by sitting as close to fiancée as possible, a stacking her legs on top of Enid’s thighs as she twisted into the corner of the couch – just a touch obnoxiously. Enid giggled before taking a sip, drawing an arm just above her knees. She pressed a kiss to Wednesday’s lips, letting out a sigh. “You probably feel like the need to reconcile was largely on you, given how you ran…but it wasn’t, Wednesday. I’ve been just as distracted, and every bit as much to blame for us not spending the time we need together, too.”

Augustus appeared from her collar again and Wednesday smiled at the snake with the gentle sort of parent-like love she’d had for him since the start. “Hey, buddy…do you think you could take yourself to your enclosure for a little while? There’ll be a pinky for you in the morning.”

He let out a small hiss and twisted down her arm, leaving the two in full privacy. Wednesday had another long drink of wine and made a hopeful suggestion. “I have two more exams next week, but then the summer term doesn’t begin until mid-May. Is there any time over the next few weeks that you’d be able to get away from the show for a few days?”

Enid laughed. “I haven’t used an understudy yet! Our swings would be thrilled – I’m sure I could take some time, for us.”

The way she said it made Wednesday chug the rest of the wine in her glass before taking Enid’s from her, sweetly, and placing both on the table. She adjusted her position, sitting fully on her lap. Enid’s arms fell around her waist, pulling her close for a kiss. Wednesday sighed into it, lazily dropping her arms around her shoulders, drawing herself closer, chests touching – even if they were just in comfortable sweatshirts – she loved the feeling. Enid let out a little sound of contentment as her tongue dipped into her mouth, pushing them even closer.

Enid pulled away with a sudden gasp – their teeth almost colliding as a bolt of lightning and crackle of thunder turned the nighttime rain shower into a thunderstorm. She giggled and groaned, sighing into Wednesday’s shoulder as Wednesday felt her heartrate skyrocket and decrease. Tangling her fingers into Enid’s hair, Wednesday just held her close, there, resting her head just on top of hers. “I love you,” She muttered quietly. “I’m really glad we spent tonight together, not just in routine, even if it wasn’t what we planned.”

“Me too,” Enid squeezed her middle, looking up with a sweet gaze. “I love you. I can’t believe how we let time get away from us. Hey – let me send a quick text to let my manager know I’m going to be out of the show – then I’m getting my laptop and my planner – we are so booking a trip for after your exams!”

Letting her go – even if she might’ve rather extended that time together physically, Wednesday figured she could get her fiancée all worked up and excited about time off together and then spend the time together in bed. Enid returned just moments later, her fingers flying across her keyboard as she gave herself a week off without asking – but expecting. Loving that for her self-confidence, Wednesday stretched out on the futon while she started to ramble excitedly, opening a glittery pink date book, actually blathering about what to fill in it. Her excited ramble went on for almost two straight minutes before she paused, mid-sentence, blushing as she glanced back at Wednesday. As she opened her mouth, Wednesday reminded her, “If you dare apologize for looking forward to spending time together…” She snapped her lips together and Wednesday smirked, putting her chin on Enid’s shoulder as she leaned over her. “There’s a full moon next week, too. We could maybe go somewhere that has a forest nearby if you’d like to wolf out. It’s been months, Enid. The Solstice was the last time…it just happened to be on a Monday, otherwise you probably would’ve taken your potion then, too.”

“You really want to spend time off chasing me through the trees?” Enid asked skeptically.

Dropping into a sit beside her, Wednesday took her hand into her own, letting her thumb rub a circle over the ring on her left. “I want to spend my time off with you. That’s all, Enid. I don’t care, particularly, what we do. I would like you to make sure you’re not disconnecting with the wolf part of you…we know the consequences of that. But if you don’t think you need to wolf out to stay connected, that’s fine, too.”

“Hm,” Enid laced the fingers that were playing with hers between them and kissed Wednesday’s cheek. “You know – we could really disconnect from the world, and only connect to each other – which always helps. Go to the Zypher property, be surrounded by mountains? We haven’t been in…what, two and a half years now?”

Liking the sound of that, Wednesday nuzzled her neck, also liking that it wouldn’t involve her traveling by plane, but the thought of being without running water and electricity for an entire week wasn’t quite what she wanted to deal with. Who would’ve thought – Wednesday Addams, a woman of the modern world?

“Or – we go to the Addams house in Jericho? We’d be able to bathe far more conveniently – but still have the woods.”

Enid chuckled into her lips with a kiss. “Fair, fair,” She spoke, pulling back. “Promise me you won’t get tangled up in a Network conspiracy while we’re there?”

With a single nod, Wednesday leaned in for another kiss. “I won’t even tell them we’re in town.”

“Well, that’s not nice. Aunt Larissa would ream you if we bumped into her at the store picking up stuff for dinner and hadn’t told her we were coming.”

“Grocery delivery,” Wednesday refuted. Enid shot her a look. “We can have one dinner with them. One. I’m very serious. This is going to be our time, Enid. We…we need it. It’s going to be a long summer – I’m so close to done, and the last two semesters are going to be grueling. Remember, I will be hospitalized at some point because I’m going to be so in over my head and taking horrible care of myself and refusing to let you do it for me,” She sighed – wishing she’d never had that vision, years ago. “But until then – we have this time together. I want it to be meaningful – just us.” Thunder made the entire place rumble and Enid nodded, then let out a little sound of sympathy as a slithering snake hurried himself up the steps and into Wednesday’s lap, trembling. “It’s okay, buddy,” She whispered, kissing his cheek as she held him close, letting him circle back around her neck. “Well, just us and the boy.”

Enid acknowledged what she’d said before, “Meaningful. It sucks to think that a lot of the time we do have together isn’t meaningful – and I guess I didn’t really understand that until this all blew up,” She sighed. “It’s hard to think that just because you spend every night sleeping next to the love of your life, it can get routine, so fast. I hate that. I don’t want that for us.” She thumbed her planner. “Do you think – we could pen in some more date nights? This was really nice. Not just dinner because we both happen to be home…which; has been rare for us – but intentional dates. I think we need to make sure we have at least one a month? Once a week would be better – but until you’re finished with school, I think we should be a little more realistic -”

Wednesday tilted her head in a bit of good news. “Actually, we can. Every Monday. My evening course was moved to Tuesdays and Thursdays for the summer class.”

Letting out a little gasp, Enid tossed her arms around her fiancée. “That’s amazing! OhEmGee, this is perfect! Hey – how about we put our first Monday after vacation at that Brooklynn rooftop and gallery, hm? I mean, truthfully – I think I preferred this, just us doing our own thing up here -”

“Then, let’s plan to do our own thing up here,” Wednesday argued gently. “Why go out and force ourselves to do something that neither of us really want to do? Just because it’s what is expected of a couple on a date? You know I would always rather be in with you. We can make it special, so long as we intend to.” She sighed, shaking her head. “Of course. I’ve long ago learned, intentions are everything, didn’t I? I suppose I just never applied it to our long-term romance.”

Enid kissed each cheek, then the tip of her nose. “I do believe I have some intentions for how I’d like to close out this night.”

Wednesday dropped her hands to her hips. “Hm. Funny, so did I. What if our intentions don’t align?”

She gave a playful growl, then nipped her lip playfully, making Wednesday close her eyes and give a little groan. “Yeah,” Enid pulled away, “I’m pretty sure – we both want the same thing. Come on. GusGus, bedtime, buddy. This date night continues for another hour!”

“Oh, that’s all?” Wednesday teased, earning a playful push as she smirked, fully intending on making meaning out of every moment of the rest of their night together.

#fanfic #wednesday 2022 #wenclair #chaos for the fly #I'm not going to make Tracey beta these she's already working so hard so forgive my mistakes #prompt fic #this was fun #layla's >5k challenge #CftF One-Shots

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fluffbyday-smutbynight · 4 months

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When in Rome...

Lately I've been rotating the Rome scene in my mind like a rotisserie chicken. It's a very short one -exactly 1 minute of screen time- and yet it feels pivotal in showing the evolution of Aziraphale's and Crowley's relationship. It also includes some interesting references, and it just feels... different from the other flashbacks.

I've been thinking about it so much that I had to go back and rewatch the flashbacks leading up to it. Take my hand (take my whole life too) as I take you on a journey...

3004 B.C. - Mesopotamia

Aziraphale is the one breaking the news to Crowley: God, displeased with the humans, is going to wipe them out with a flood of catastrophical proportions. But fret not! He immediately downplays it: it's probably just the locals. And Noah's family and the animals on the ark are going to be fine. And then God will give them a "rain-bow"! Whatever that is, it's the promise it won't happen ever again.

That... doesn't sit too well with Crowley. "Not the kids! You can't kill kids!" he points out (does he mean human kids or goat kids? Probably both), and he scoffs at the rain-bow thing.

But quick comes Aziraphale's rebuttal:

You can't judge the Almighty, Crowley!

... perhaps too quick, like a line he's been fed and he internalized. Like he's subconsciously trying to justify God's actions to himself, more than to Crowley.

As it starts to rain, the crowd around them stands unaware of their own imminent fate.

2500 B.C. - The Land of Uz

Aziraphale learns, very much to his disbelief, that despite Job being a good man, his fate has been determined by a bet between God and Satan.

Here, he gets both to see Job's despair first-hand, and to exercise his own free will.

He teams up with the "enemy"; he lies to Gabriel; he gets a taste of self-agency and a taste of the oxrib (aka worldly pleasures). He gets to do the right thing and save the kids (human and goats alike), learning in the process that his and Crowley's conditions are not too dissimilar: they both feel lonely.

By the end of it, Aziraphale is sure he will get punished by God.

And then... nothing happens.

33 A.D. - Golgotha

Aziraphale and Crowley witness the crucifixion of Jesus.

"Your lot put him on there." "I'm not consulted on policy decisions, Crowley."

Unlike with Job, Aziraphale has no say and no power to stop what's happening. Despite that (and in contrast to the flood scene) he empathizes with Jesus: asking if Crowley knew him; recoiling as he watches him being nailed to the cross; acknowledging that all it took was him saying "be kind to each other".

Notice how the events shown in the flashbacks get progressively close and personal.

From the undefined crowd at the flood, to Job and his family, to this "very bright young man": yes, God has honoured the promise to not wipe humanity out ever again; that doesn't make the smiting/destruction/suffering any less painful and unjust.

There doesn't seem to be any logic, nor compassion, to God's decisions. There doesn't seem to be any immediate consequence, too, to going against them (if you're clever enough about it). I think that -as much as Aziraphale wants to keep believing in God's ineffable plan- he must feel, in some capacity, that it's all rather... pointless.

I think that here, in front of the grueling, graphic death of a single man, Aziraphale's moral journey reaches its (first?) breaking point.

In fact, where do we find him next?

"8 years later" (41 A.D.) - Rome

Aziraphale and Crowley meet again very shortly after - relatively speaking, at least (even the scene's title card highlights that: just "8 years later".)

This time around, there's no grand event happening: it's seemingly by chance, they run into each other in a tavern. Well, Crowley is there for "a quick temptation", which is not out of order considering the setting: Caligula's Rome, *the* time and place for decadence and dissolution. And Aziraphale?

He's just... there.

Well, in a scrapped scene from the script book he said he was there to "influence a boy named Nero, get him interested in music". But that didn't make it on screen - though maybe it's still relevant, as you'll see in a moment.

Thing is, he's been there for a while. Unlike Crowley with his odd-looking attire, Aziraphale blends in with the locals and with their customs: wearing a rather pretty tunic; toasting with a "salutaria"; playing a Roman board game by himself. Drinking wine and planning to check out "a new restaurant".

...if he's even talking about an actual restaurant, that is. It's all in this post (check out the comment section too) - but to sum it up: the first thing Aziraphale does is inviting Crowley out (actually, tempting him!) to try "Petronius' new restaurant". Petronius, the notorious "master of elegance" at Nero's court. And by "master of elegance", we mean he was in charge of everything concerning luxury, aka making the court's parties as lavish as possible. Petronius, who was described as a hedonist and an excess seeker. Aziraphale has heard "he does remarkable things to oysters". If that doesn't sound like tongue-in-cheek for some pleasure other than just food, I don't know what does.

In short, it looks like Aziraphale is on vacation, and a rather enjoyable one.

I think he's had about four thousand years to let everything sink in: where Heaven and Hell stand, God's plans and what they mean to humanity (and I'm not even considering what we didn't see: the first war, or Sodom and Gomorrah, or any other horror he might have witnessed).

I think that after Jesus' crucifixion, he was like: fuck it, where can I take a break from all this? Where's *the* place I can most indulge in... being as much human as I can get to be?

And of course he ended up right there. And as the saying goes... when in Rome, do as the Romans do.

I think Aziraphale is having his hot girl summer, and not even God knows what he's been up to.

#good omens #good omens meta #well “meta” might be a generous term lol. musings?#aziraphale #crowley #oh how I wish the Rome flashback showed us more #to be expanded on/continued? possibly ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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corazondebeskar-reads · 3 months

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you know you never stood a chance - deleted scene #3

you know you never stood a chance series

deleted scene #3: the things we lost

series masterlist

Joel Miller x f!reader

Words: 2k

Summary: You visit Joel to continue paying your debt and accidentally hit on a sensitive subject. This deleted scene takes place between chapters two and three. This is the only one I regret not including because it shines a light on the abrupt change in their dynamic.

Warnings: established sex-for-food transactional situationship, qz!Joel, Joel is mean, Joel has trauma, poor communication, oral (m receiving), spanking, over the knee spanking, brief mention of injury, hurt feelings, hurt/no comfort, reader has enough hair to braid

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

It’s been sixteen days since you turned to Joel for help after breaking your wrist. Sixteen days of going to his apartment after work.

He never gives you cards. You thought that’s how it would work, that he would supplement your income. Instead, he cooks dinner for you every night. Not that he ever eats with you, but still.

He’s a surprisingly good cook, especially given what there is to work with.

Tonight, though, you’re in a mood. Work was grueling; it was shipment day when trades came in from other QZs. It involved a lot of hauling heavy shit in the pouring rain.

Well, you weren’t hauling anything with your arm still in the sling. No, instead, you ran back and forth to report inventory and notes from the drivers, tasked with ferrying paperwork inside your jacket to keep it dry.

You got stuck there late, and it’s 8:15 when you knock on Joel’s door.

You’re soaked through three layers, and there’s mud caking your boots and pant legs. Your hair is disheveled; the braid your sister hastily wove this morning having deteriorated rapidly.

And there’s a fucking sliver in the pointer finger of your good hand. Such a tiny thing to be upset about—just a bad end to a bad day.

Joel opens the door. “You’re late,” he grunts.

Your lip twitches into a sneer, pushing anything you can in front of the way your eyes sting.

He does a double take. “Why’re you cryin’? Somebody hurt you?”

You’re humiliated to find that he’s right, and the hot tears have started to boil over. You scrub at them uselessly with your rain-soaked fist and swallow down the feeling. Feelings, actually. All of them.

“Never mind, I’ll just go home,” you snap.

“Don’t be stupid. Get inside.” He makes room for your body to slip through between his broad frame and that of the door.

You’re winding up, leaning over the edge, so you ignore him and start to handle your problems. “Got tweezers?”

“Bathroom cabinet,” he says, reaching and grabbing the afflicted hand.

You yank it from him. “I can fuckin’ handle it,” you snap before stomping off. It’s less effective with your boots tucked away by the door, threadbare socks failing to emphasize your attitude.

It’s only when you’ve dug them out of the cabinet and sat on the edge of his tub that you realize you actually can’t handle it. When you open the door to sheepishly ask for help, he’s leaning against the opposite wall with his arms crossed, foot tapping, and eyebrows raised.

“Don’t start,” you snap.

He crowds you into the cramped bathroom, brow furrowed as he takes your hand in both of his to examine it.

He lets go and rifles through his supplies. You sit on the tub and wait with your finger extended, shrinking into yourself.

He settles on one knee, the other propped up, and tugs your hand onto his leg. He doesn’t have the tweezers, though. He has a little needleless syringe.

“What’re you doing?” you ask, eyebrows shooting skyward and voice following.

“Jus’ relax,” he says.

You watch as he lines up the syringe with where the wood has dug in, only a hair’s breadth wide and less than half a centimeter long. When he draws the plunger back, it sucks until the sliver slips free of your skin.

“Ain’t gonna say thank you? Do I need to spank that attitude outta ya?” he drawls, standing up and neatening the rummaged supplies.

“I—” you hesitate, and he looks over his shoulder at you. “Can it be both?”

It’s his turn to hesitate. “You just want me to be rough with ya, or are ya askin’ me to bend you over my knee?”

Your face is burning, and you can’t look at him. “Dunno, I didn’t like, think about it. Had a hard day. Just… just wanna feel somethin’ else. Dealer’s choice?”

“Okay,” he says and leaves the room.

You sit there on the lip of the tub for a moment, wondering why you never just shut up before you wind up in these situations.

You can hear him sigh impatiently, so you get up and shuffle out to the living room. You hover at the edge, watching where he’s sat on the couch, fingers tapping against your leg.

“Change your mind?” he says, looking you up and down.

You shake your head.

“Get outta those wet clothes,” he says, but he realizes the problem as soon as he’s said it. “Just c’mere.”

When you’re standing between his spread legs, he helps you peel off the muddy jeans and t-shirt, only to find your undergarments soaked through as well. Once you’re stripped bare, he tugs you onto his lap and wraps a worn fleece blanket around you.

“Listen up,” he says, rubbing the blanket over you like a towel. “If we’re gonna do this, I want to make one thing clear. You listenin’?”

You nod, looking up at him. His eyes are so pretty, you think. Have you ever been this close to him without his dick inside you? You hadn’t noticed the little flecks of green toward the center before.

“Got it?” he says.

Shit. “Um,” you say.

“Um,” he taunts. “You didn’t hear a goddamn word, did ya?”

“Maybe if you had more interesting things to say—”

“Knock it off. I’m bein’ serious. You want me to do this? I need to hear you say it.”

“I want you to.”

“To what?”

You’re burning again, the blanket suddenly a barbecue. You squirm.

He raises an eyebrow.

“I want you to, um. I want you to spank me.”

“Good girl,” he murmurs, and you know you’re fucking done for.

He peels the blanket off you and pushes you until you’re draped over his lap. His hand rubs over your bare ass, and he chuckles when you flinch a little.

“You know how long I’ve wanted to shut your bratty little mouth up and teach ya a lesson?”

“From the day that we met?”

“Damn near. But that’s not what’s happenin’. You hear me?”

“What?”

“I’m not doin’ this to you because you don’t know when to shut up. I’m doin’ it because you want it. If you want it to stop, you tell me.”

“Okay.” You’re not really sure how to parse that. You figured he was thrilled for an excuse.

“Repeat it.”

“If I want it to stop, I tell you.”

“‘Atta girl,” he murmurs, before he lifts his hand and smacks your ass.

It’s not any harder than he does here and there when you fuck, but something about the situation amplifies it. You can’t choke back the moan.

He chuckles. The next slap is harder, and you gasp, lurching forward. He holds you steady on his lap with one strong arm across your shoulder blades.

“Too much?”

“No, s’good. Fuck.”

You’re not sure how long it goes on like that. He never goes harder than the second hit, and heat is building across your skin, but there’s also a lightness in your chest.

His hand settles eventually, rubbing over the raw flesh. “Y’know, you never did say thank you,” he muses.

You breathe for a moment and then slide off his lap, knees pressing into the dingy yellow carpet. You reach for his belt, but he beats you to it, freeing his cock. It practically springs out, smacking against your outstretched hand, and you wrap your greedy fingers around it.

You look up at him, stroking lightly, thumb rolling over the slit. “Thank you, Joel,” you say, and take him in your mouth.

“Fuck,” he hisses, grabbing at your already-ruined braid. “Y’ain’t gotta thank me, pretty girl. It was just a splinter.”

You go to pull off his cock, indignant, but he catches your head, pushing you back down.

He doesn’t give you another chance to respond, fucking up into you.

You do your damn best, which is getting to be quite good, actually. You’re practicing a lot, after all.

After you swallow him down, he lets you rest your cheek on his thigh. Encourages it, actually, with his hand in your hair. You zone out and maybe (definitely) doze off.

When he wakes you, you feel the difference right away.

Your good hand reaches up cautiously despite something of a warning rumbling from him as he stands.

“Alright, c’mon,” he says, intending to steer you into the kitchen.

But you can’t leave well enough alone. “You fixed my hair.”

“Yep.”

“You… braided my hair.” You keep touching it.

“Sure. Come eat.” His arms are crossed over his chest, and you can’t read his face at all. There’s just… nothing.

It’s not a fumbled, sloppy three-strand, either. It’s not perfect; he didn’t have a comb or product (but then again, neither do you). But he has unmistakably given you two thick twists. And not only that, he did it so gently, it didn’t wake you up.

“You styled it.”

“Don’t you know when to shut up?” he snaps.

But you don’t, and he should know that, you think. He’s fucking met you before. “How do you—did you have long hair? Oh, shit, was it for Tommy? He has long hair, right?”

Joel is suddenly very, very close. “Shut the fuck up.”

Blood drains from your face very quickly. It’s not that you’ve never seen him angry. But this… this is different. He’s looking at you like he could grind you under his boot and never think of it again. Like he wants to.

You take a half-step back. “Look, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you, bringing him up—”

“Get out.”

“What?” You stare at him, jaw ajar.

His face is mangled into something ferocious and horrible. He looks like the nightmare they whisper about on the streets.

It’s the first—and only—time you’re afraid of Joel Miller.

“We’re done here. Get out. Deal’s off.”

You don’t argue. You pull your damp, disgusting shirt and pants on, balling up your undergarments in your jacket and grabbing your boots on your way out the door.

After practically running barefoot up the four floors to your apartment, you notice the burning in your eyes.

Why are you crying about this? You didn’t do anything wrong, and you sure as shit don’t care what an asshole like Joel Miller thinks of you.

You’re relieved to find your apartment empty, the scrawled note from your sister still sitting on the counter.

“Staying with Jeremy, IDK when coming home don’t worry love u”

Like you weren’t going to worry.

You drop all your clothes in the sink and step in for a quick, shivering shower.

You're toweling off when there’s a knock at your door.

By the time you get dressed to peek through the porthole, whoever it was is gone.

But something weird urges you to open it and look around. There’s no sign of anyone, even on the stairs, but you do almost trip and spill the bowl that sits, slightly steaming.

Your eyes close for a moment, but you bend down and carefully pick up the dish with your good hand.

The conflict in you is very brief. It’s strange food from who knows where, could be poisoned, could be rotten, could be drugged.

But you know, really. The ache of nausea eases in your gut, and you tell yourself it’s from the hearty smell of the stew. Not at all from the possibility he doesn’t hate you after all.

But in the morning, your supervisor pulls you aside. He’s wringing his hands and keeps twitching to look over his shoulder. You’re not going to be on half rations anymore, he explains. You’re healed enough that it’s not a problem and he trusts you’ll do the best that you can.

If Joel could have done this, could have terrified your boss in the first place, why didn’t he? What had it cost him?

Did he really do something risky or put himself in a bad position so he’d never have to see you again?

But you also know he could have just… not. He could have left you to go hungry.

And maybe, you think. Maybe it didn’t cost him a thing, from the way your supervisor won’t look you in the eye.

Maybe he could have done this all along.

(p.s., he doesn't get his bowl back until you move in.)

(p.p.s., you figure out this whole incident after moving to Jackson. you try to apologize but he just mumbles "s'nothin', you didn't know.")

*title from "Things We Lost in the Fire" by Bastille

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #the last of us fic #the last of us smut #fic: you know you never stood a chance

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