#seven years since i CAME OUT and then. god i always knew. one of them tragic little girls crying in the mirror. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lucidfairies · 5 months

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pretty girl [a.a]

pairing: experienced!Abby x inexperienced!reader // Owens sister!reader x bbf!Abby

synopsis: Abby was irritatingly beautiful, nobody could deny that. But one night, everything changed between the two of you.

warnings: mdni 18+, religion mentioned, dom!abby, sub!reader, poc friendly, oral sex [r], fingerfucking [r], praise, slight size kink, corruption if you squint

word count: 2.1k

a/n: this is short and really not good but that's okay cuz I have more coming out soon! also no more virgin reader because it kinda made me wanna shoot myself

Out of all of the friends your brother, Owen, had over the years, Abby Anderson was definitely your favorite. Aside from the fact that she was built like and had the face of an actual god on earth, she was so sweet to you all the time. Always acting like, well, a sister. The feeling had never been mutual, though. You didn’t want her to see you as her best friend’s cute younger sister, you wanted her to see you as her best friend’s undeniably sexy younger sister.

You never really knew when this crush became, but Abby had been in your life for so long that it didn’t matter. All you knew was that every time you looked at her, your stomach flipped and warmth spread between your legs. Because, god, those eyes. Always looked like they were picking you apart, one inch at a time.

She’s the exact reason you were tossing and turning in your bed, trying to get her out of your head. Your body reacted differently to her lately, every accidental touch was like a punch to the gut, and at night, every time she crossed your mind, your clit throbbed, a feeling you weren’t used to.

It’s not like you never found people attractive, it’s just… she was different. You needed her in a different way, in a very unholy way. One your brother would absolutely not be okay with. You tried to tell yourself that that’s why you wanted her - just to get to Owen. But that didn’t work.

You sat up in your bed, wiping the sleep out of your eyes and forcing your legs together to end the throbbing. You were so fucking wet. Looking in the mirror at the end of your bed, you huffed and got up, brushing your hair out and changing into a smaller, hotter pajama set. Before you could register any consequences to what you were about to do, you grabbed your keys and left the house.

You knew where Abby’s house was. You’d been there a handful of times over the course of the years, normally to pick up Owen when he was high. Suddenly, you were pulling up and parking at the curb and getting out of the car, slamming the door on the way out. Standing at the door, you banged harshly, hoping she miraculously wouldn’t be home.

“Okay, Jesus, give me a sec- y/n?” Your stomach dropped. The reality of what you were doing hit you like a truck, and you suddenly second guessed everything, ready to turn around and run away. “What’re you doing here this late, sweetheart?” You sighed, digging your palms into your eyes and rubbing them.

“I need your help, Abby.” You looked up at her, unwilling to elaborate until she let you in. And she did. She opened the door further, allowing you to step in, then shut it behind you. “There’s this… feeling in my stomach that won’t go away. It’s like heat. I don’t even know what I’m doing.”

Abby wanted to pretend like she didn’t know what you were talking about. Wanted to pretend that she was thinking about the fact that you were literally horny and came to her for help, not to mention the little pajamas that you had on, that hugged you tight and hardly covered anything. She could tell you that Owen would hate her if she helped you the way you needed, and it was just unethical, but.

But.

That would be like telling you she hasn’t been in love with you for seven years, telling you that she didn’t want you, telling you that she hasn’t thought about this every night practically since she met you. And she surely didn’t want you thinking any of that.

Abby sighed. “Is that all it is? Heat?” She took a step closer to you, making you catch your breath.

“No,” you paused, taking a step forward as well, so that your chests were almost pressed against each other. “It’s this wet feeling. And this throbbing.” Abby could’ve come in her boxers, right then and there, if she wasn’t trying to focus on you.

“Where?” Your face was burning. She placed her large hand on your stomach, head dropping to the crook of your neck. “Here?” she ran her thumb over the skin. You shook your head, placing your hands on her shoulders. Her hand cupped your cunt, heel of her palm pressing up ever so slightly, just to press into your clit. You pushed up on your toes, trying to get away from the overwhelming sensation, but it was unrelenting. “Here, baby?” You nodded quickly. “Words.”

You moaned at her harsh change of tone. “Yes Abby,” she left an open mouthed kiss on your neck, pulling her hand away from your pussy. “I don’t know what to do about it.” The way you looked at her made her want to kiss you until you couldn’t breathe. Big doe eyes, unknowing but curious. You were so innocent, and it turned Abby on more than it should’ve. All she could think about was your pretty, big lips wrapped around her strap, taking it deep in your throat.

“Oh honey,” Abby sighed again. She didn’t want it to seem like she didn’t want this, want you, but she didn’t know how to go about it. “Have you never touched yourself?” Your brows scrunched.

“No. But that’s not what- oh!” Abby couldn’t take it, she picked you up and threw you over her shoulder, walking down the hallway and going into her bedroom. She shut the door and sat you down on her bed. “Abs.. I’ve wanted this for a while.”

“Wanted what, baby? I thought you didn’t know what you were doing.” She was on her knees in front of you, hands on your waist as she looked up at you.

“I..” you groaned, running your hands over your face in embarrassment. “I want to have sex with you. That’s why I came here, I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” Abby knew that. But she didn’t stop you from telling her. It sounded so nice coming out of your lips. “Owen can’t know, if we do.”

“I never said we were doing anything, darlin.” Remaining on her knees, she pressed against you and caught your lips in a kiss. Her hands were on your thighs, wrapping them around her waist, while she kissed you so hard you lost your breath. It was all tongue and teeth, nothing sweet about it. “What do you think about when you think about me, baby?”

Your brain was in a haze as you tried to formulate words. “You-your arms. And h-how your voice sounds, and how you look at me w-whenever we make eye contact.” She hooked her fingers under your shorts and pulled them down, then tossed them and shifted the two of you so that you were laying against her pillows and she was overtop of you.

When Abby caught a glimpse of the gold cross around your neck, she almost stopped. But the thought of corrupting you, turning you against the things you believe in just for her... extremely attractive.

"The heat between your legs is because you're horny, baby. Don't they teach you that at your pretty prep school?" You shook your head quickly, mind fuzzy as she kneaded your tits overtop your pajama shirt. She grabbed your hardened nipple and ran her thumb over it, making you shiver.

"Too much, Abby. Too much." You whined, pushing away from her hand.

"Is it really too much, sweet girl?" She twisted your nipple and pulled it, making you whimper and arch slightly off the bed. You couldn't tell whether you liked it or disliked it, but the way she was doing it felt extremely different from the way you briefly experimented with yourself here and there.

She knew what she was doing, and it made you want to moan and ride her fingers like you'd heard Owen talking about with her. You had listened to the vulgar stories she would tell your brother of her hookups, talking about what she did and how she did it.

You pushed up, sitting against the headboard as you pulled your pajama shirt up and over your head. Abby couldn't tear her eyes away from your tits. In seconds, her lips were latching onto your nipple and biting lightly, her hand flicking the other. Your back was arching into her mouth, moaning quietly.

"You're so pretty, my love." She mumbled into the skin of your sternum as she made a path of open-mouthed kisses towards your pajama shorts. Your skin was burning, and you were tingling at the thought of her teaching you what to do and how to do it.

She slipped your shorts off your legs and tossed them somewhere, gently running her thumb down your center. You shivered and whined, lacing one of your hands in her hair. "Abby," your head lolled back when she finally pulled your underwear down, kissing your clit gently. "Abs be gentle."

"Don't worry pretty girl, I'll go easy on you this time." Your stomach flipped at 'this time'. Would there be more times?

She licked a fat strip up your cunt and your hips bucked into her face, encouraging her. The sensation was brand new, and so much different than anything you'd ever done or felt. So much better.

Her tongue circled your clit, tracing shapes and letters, spelling her name against you. "Oh God, Abby," you moaned, the feeling of her hot breath and wet tongue creating the best mixture on your clit. The harsh middle ground where hot and cold met, where her thumb ran down your folds, was the greatest. You decided it was a good thing you waited, but you could definitely get used to this.

Moments later, Abby's middle finger was slowly pushing into your entrance, and she was groaning into your clit. She pulled away from your clit, watching her finger sink into you as she pressed kisses into your stomach and thighs. "So fucking tight, baby," her other hand rubbed your thigh, "need you to relax, angel."

A whine was ripped from your throat at the unfamiliar pressure. Your hips moved, trying to find some way to make it more comfortable. Abby was praising you, leaving quiet chants against your skin reminding you to breathe. You took a deep breath and released it, allowing your lower half to become less tense.

She began to thrust her finger slowly, curling it towards the sensitive bundle of nerves within you and grunting at the way you squirmed and cried out her name, begging her to do it again.

When you were ready, she added another finger, letting you adjust to both of her digits before reattaching her lips to your clit. Her right hand had found its way back to your tits, pulling at your nipple.

Your stomach became wound up, almost like a cramp in need of release. You knew it meant you were going to cum, but you never had before. "Abby- m'gonna, oh, Abby," a gush of warmth flooded between your legs, stronger and much better feeling than when you got wet.

Your legs were shaking and your hips were twitching, head thrown back and she worked you through it. Abby on the other hand, was wide-eyed and blushing as she watched you come around her fingers. She hooked up with girls regularly before now, but she had never been with someone like you.

She retracted her fingers and licked them clean. You were panting, forearm thrown over your eyes so that you wouldn't have to meet hers. "You did so well, my love." She had her hands pressed into your hips as she kissed your neck, waiting for you to come out and talk to her.

She was painting your skin in soft kisses when you finally brought your arm away from your face, cupping her face with both of your hands. "That was nice," you both grinned, which turned into laughter. It felt so good to laugh with her without worrying about Owen.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" She asked once the laughter had subsided, turning things to a slightly more serious note. "I wanted you to be comfortable."

"You didn't hurt me, Abby. I'm glad I waited for you." She was kissing you then, smiling into your mouth as your teeth clashed and nicked at each other's lips. "Can I stay here tonight?" Abby rolled over next to you and took your hand as hers before looking towards you.

"You can stay here forever." She whispered quietly, kissing the back of your hand.

#abby smut #tlou #tlou2 #abby anderson #abby anderson smut #inexperienced!reader #experience #abby anderson x reader #maya writes

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yourmomxx · 6 months

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Emily Prentiss(chief or not cheif) X Fem!Reader have been secretly married for several years, (if emily is cheif they’ve been dating since she was an agent and then married when she was a cheif and if not obviously the opposite). No ike knows or expects emily to be in a relationship because she doesn’t say anything until one day she forgets her badge and lunch at home so her wife brings her stuff and the whole place is shocked ? bonus if tara or someone flirts with her

a/n: ooh, I love me some secret relationship trope! Unfortunately, I'm still only on season 5/6 of Criminal Minds, so I just kept Emily as an Agent and not as Chief, if that's alright (Tara is in it, though ;)). I hope you like this, anon!

— ❝ɪɴ ᴛʜɪs ᴛᴇᴀᴍ, ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡs ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ. Tʜᴇʀᴇ’s ɴᴏ ᴘʀɪᴠᴀᴄʏ. Mʏ ᴘᴇʀsᴏɴᴀʟ ʟɪfᴇ ɪs ᴏɴᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢ ʟᴇss ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴄᴀɴ ᴘʀᴏfɪʟᴇ.❞ —

-Jennifer Jareau

Emily Prentiss was a private person. She prided herself in it.

I mean try it, hiding something from an entire office of educated professionals in degrees on how to read the most subtle shifts in a persons behavior and building a view based on that information.

Of course, let’s not forget, there’s the general rule, or rather, interdict, of profiling the other members of your team. But sometimes, you can’t help yourself.

Emily had noticed it in herself more times than she would like to admit.

Sometimes, it happened as easy as breathing, a natural trail of thought that let loose when she caught on about something or the people around her. She tried to undermine it as quickly as possible whenever she realized she was doing it, though.

It’s not the fact that she didn’t trust them.

No, that was never the thing, those people were like her second family. Or her first even, maybe.

But after spending almost every waking hour of the past years of her life around them, there were some things that she would rather keep for herself.

Leave them be in their own bubble that was just ‘Emily Prentiss’.

And when she talked about ‘things’, then she was actually talking about you.

The team could find out about her pregnancy, about her resentment towards the church. They could know that she had a phase at fourteen where she liked licorice and hasn’t been able to eat it since those dreadful seven months, or that she still hated her father for being emotionally unavailable and leaving her to deal with her mother on her own; they could know that.

But they couldn’t know about you. Never you.

This is wasn’t an issue of trust, again.

Trust was never in the mix when she made the decision, every morning before work, to lay off her wedding ring and keep it safe on a small chain in her back pocket.

But you were her safe place. A rock, a tow, something for her to hold on to, the only thing that was in no way connected to her work place.

Emily loved you, she did so much, and she’d known it after the first time she saw you smile, and accepted it during the first time she kissed you.

And hiding you, keeping you safe from all of this, was her way of shedding off the horrors and traumas of her job when she came home at night, completely tune out whatever she had experienced mere hours before, and dive back into you.

Your shared house, shared bed, shared sheets, shared kitchen, shared table.

Not talking about you, or even admitting you existed, while she worked and saw the worst sides of what humanity had to offer, drew a distinct line between her life with you and the life she led at work.

Call it a personal protective shield.

So, no, she would never, ever tell them.

“No. For God’s - No.”

Which is why, when Emily Prentiss walked into the bureau that morning, and realized her credentials weren’t in their designated pocket, and also her bag was empty of her lunch box, she knew that she was doomed.

Emily knew about your caring side. The loving, mothering, always everyone's shoulder to cry on-side.

Hell, if she was being honest, it was one of the reasons she started falling so hard for you so easily.

In that moment, though? God, how she wished she would have chosen a narcissist.

(Not literally, though. She'd profiled guys like that before. They really weren't wife- or husband material.)

You had just been on your way out of the house when you had seen your wife's dark lunch box still residing on the counter top where you had prepared it for her an hour ago.

After a quick look at the time on your phone screen, you had short-handedly decided to slightly delay your trip to the pharmacy for some mundane refills, and drop by Emily's office to bring her her lunch.

After all, you knew how busy she could get, and how her focused state had the power to drown out every other basic need her body had.

If you wouldn't make lunch for her, she wouldn't have the time, or the head, to think of buying something for herself, you knew that.

One would think that was clear after almost an entire year of marriage.

The thought alone brought a smile to your face.

You grabbed your car key off the counter and hurried your way out the door, closed it behind you, halted for a moment - and slowly backed up inside again.

You eyed the black case next to the key bowl suspiciously.

"That wasn't there yesterday," You muttered to yourself.

Cautiously, because when your wife worked in the FBI, anything was possible, you reached for the leather-bound case and drew it closer to you.

When you opened it, the tension immediately left your shoulders. You shook your head sighing at the sight of your wife's passport picture and the huge, dark blue letters FBI showing themselves to you.

"Oh, Emily, what am I gonna do with you?"

When you left the house then, it was final.

Hopefully.

"What's up with you, you seem stressed out?"

Emily did her best not to flinch in her already tense state when JJ came up next to her.

She managed her best, reassuring smile and pressed her sweating palms into the side of her jeans.

"Oh, it's nothing," She lied. "Just thought I lost something."

JJ raised an eyebrow. "Alright," She muttered. "If you say so."

Then, she crashed a light brown paper file into Emily's chest.

"This just came in from El Paso, three homicides so far. I'll inform the rest of the team and we'll meet in the briefing room in ten."

Emily couldn't do more than nod, and just managed to grab the file before it slipped to the floor when JJ left.

She wasn't usually like this. She was good at keeping her head in the game.

But right now, the fact that her credentials were missing wasn't exactly stressing her out, because she knew that you would bring them to her as soon as you realized that she had forgotten them at home.

Emily was stressed out because she knew you would bring them to her.

What she didn't know, was, however she should act and how the team would possibly take it.

The elevator you entered took a tremendous amount of time to realize which floor you wanted to go to, and even longer to slide the doors closed and jerking to a start.

You would think that in an official federal office building, the mechanics could be more advanced.

Then again, counting the many times Emily complained about the budget allocation of the bureau when she tought you weren't listening, maybe you shouldn't be all that surprised.

The doors slid closed when the thought suddenly hit you.

You were about to enter your wife's office. Which you had never been to, not once in your life and only knew the address of because goddamn, was it hard to miss.

The building that was probably the only thing that Emily had wanted to keep you out of for as long as she could.

And you came here for a lunch box.

Emily knew you knew. You had talked to her about it, she had answered your questions on why she always got fussy when you asked her how you could finally meet her team, and you had understood, every time, but this?

She couldn't just ask you to actively lie about your relationship in front of most of - all of - her friends, could she?

The last time she had checked your location, it had already shown you in close vacinity to the BAU building. She could figure what was ahead.

Was she about to deny a relationship?

“Can I help you?”

This office had way too many doors, in your opinion, and way too few signs telling you where to find what.

The greeting voice made you look up, and you automatically shifted into your politeness to strangers-mode, upon seeing a woman come up to you, wearing a two-piece and her hair in loose curls.

A very pretty woman, you had to admit.

"My name's Tara Lewis," She introduced herself, "Who are you looking for, sweetheart?"

You quickly waved her off. “Oh, I don’t work here.”

Tara tipped her head, eyes not so subtly shifting up and down your appearance.

“I figured as much, I would have remembered a face like yours.”

You managed an awkward laugh.

Emily had once, in good fun, told you you were easily caught off guard by people showing genuine interest in you all of a sudden.

You hated when she was right.

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

Just over Tara Lewis' shoulder, you were suddenly able to spot the dark hair that indicated Emily Prentiss approaching from behind her.

You nodded in her direction in recognition, as she came to a halt next to Tara Lewis.

"I'm a friend of Emily's," You lied, and by God, you did it so neatly, Emily was questioning if she had maybe already dragged you down without realizing.

"She texted me that she forgot her lunch and her badge, and since we're close to each other, she asked me to get it for her."

That polite smile was still present on your face, and your voice pitched slightly higher than usual.

You threw Emily small looks in-between, unspotted by the usual eye, but she noticed them.

You were telling her to go along, to play the game, string it all a bit further until it turned into a web that could either wrap around and suffocate her, or catch her when she stumbled.

And she probably should.

Because you made it easy. You had made it so easy for her, laid it out like a red carpet for her to walk on, the lie, that could keep her sanctuary safe-

"I'm married."

In the midst of talking to Tara, your words died in your throat and your mouth stopped, hanging open.

Tara herself whipped her head around so fast, it was a question if she was breaking her neck, eyes ripped wide open in complete and utter schock.

It was quiet. In-between the three of you, a needle dropping would have echoed like the loudest drum.

"Say what now?" Tara didn’t take her eyes off Emily for a moment.

Slowly, movement seemed to re-enter your muscles and your eyes widened at the absolute extent of what had just happened.

"What are you doing?" You hushed at Emily.

Your wife's gaze - who you loved dearly, but in situations like these, could just hold by the shoulders and shake, shake, shake - tumbled between you and her co-worker, and you could almost decipher the exact moment she graciously invited the 'fuck it'-attitude.

Emily's shoulders dropped.

"I'm married," She repeated. Calm, collected, and slow.

All of the things you were totally not feeling right now.

"This is Y/N." Emily stepped next to you and held you gently by your wrist. "My wife."

And if the English Dictionary had demonstrating pictures next to each word, Tara Lewis' face right now would be pinned under 'bafflement'.

It took a moment, actually it took a few, for the Doctor to collect herself again.

She straightened her shoulders, cleared her throat, and shook herself out, as if to remove any unnecessary consideration that kept her from thinking clearly.

"Who knows about this?" It was her first question.

Where your shoulders were ever so slightly touching, you could feel Emily's body stay tense.

"Not really anyone," She admitted.

"Why didn't you tell us?"

Emily shook her head. "Y/N is my personal life," She cleared. "I spend almost every awake minute with you people. I wanted something to myself."

As subtly as you could, you leaned your body the slightest bit closer to her. It wasn't visible to the lazy eye, but Emily could feel it.

She squeezed your wrist.

You were comfort to her.

Tara's eyes flew between the two of you, contemplating, observing.

Then, from one moment to another, her lips broke into a blinding grin.

"A wife," She repeated. Emily ripped her eyes open to interpret her friend that she should keep her voice down.

"Good for you," Tara smiled.

Emily visibly relaxed. A breath she had been holding escaped her lungs soundly.

"Let's just be clear," She told Tara, "This is still my thing." She gestured to you. "My marriage is still my thing. I don't need the entire team on me like vultures, profiling my love life like they do everything else."

Tara nodded earnestly. Her small curls were bumping up and down. She pulled her fingers across her lips and pretented to turn a key in the corner of her mouth.

"My lips are sealed." She threw the imaginary key far, far behind the office desks. "Lovergirl."

Emily ignored her and turned to you.

Your fingers lingered around hers in the movement.

"Thank you," She breathed out quietly. A soft smile played around your lips as you looked into her eyes, recognizing that specific gentleness that you knew she only gifted you with.

"Anytime."

You placed her lunch box in her hands. "It's rice with some peas and corn." Emily smiled. "You're the best."

"And, before I forget-" You pulled out the badge from your bag, but instead of giving it to Emily directly, you opened her suit jacket and found the inner pocket, safely storing the credentials where you knew she kept them every day.

You smoothed out the jacket when you were done.

"There you go."

Emily didn't even know what to say. That warm feeling, that she felt in her entire body every time she looked at you, realized who you were and who you were to her, it made itself known in this moment right now.

Right here, in the middle of her workspace.

And with all the horrors she'd see, it was probably the most content she had felt in this place in a while.

"You are so amazing." The words didn't come close to what she was feeling.

But the way your eyebrows loosened, and your lips slightly parted, she knew you understood.

"This is so sweet, and I hate to be that person, but Prentiss, we have a case to get to."

Emily cleared her throat, being ripped from whatever that moment had been, and reminded on what ground she was standing right now.

"Right," She said. She opened her arms and leaned in to pull you into a hug.

A hug, not a kiss on the cheek.

She wasn't that far yet.

"It's okay." The feeling of your breathed words tickled near her ear. "I understand."

Emily squeezed you a bit tighter.

"Get home safe."

You slowly broke away from the embrace.

"I will," You promised.

Tara mouthed a quick 'I'm so sorry' in your direction. You laughed and waved her a goodbye, before you headed for the elavator again, and she got on her way to follow after Emily, who had already made her way to where JJ had ordered them a few minutes ago.

Tara endured until the top step.

"Oh.my.God. I can't believe it!" She almost squealed as they made their way next to each other to the briefing room.

"Look at us, sharing secrets now. Ah." She shook out her shoulders. "I feel like this is a pyjama party in junior year all over again. Amazing."

Emily couldn't do anything else than grin at Tara's antics.

Suddenly, her pocket vibrated with a short tune, and Emily pulled out her phone to check her display.

It was a message from you. Emily smiled softly as she read it.

Have a good day, my sun. Will hopefully see you tonight<3

"A message from boo?" Tara mocked, and tried to peak over Emily's shoulder.

Emily quickly shut off the display, stuffed her phone back into her backpocket and continued walking.

"I don't know what you're talking about!"

But the lovesick smile didn't leave Emily's face for the rest of the way to the briefing room, partly because she was so caught up in her thoughts about the specific feeling of your skin, that she didn't even notice she was wearing it.

#emily prentiss #requested #answered #yourmomxx #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss imagine #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x fem!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #female reader #emily prentiss fluff

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queenimmadolla · 1 year

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𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐍, 𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐘, 𝐀 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐕𝐄

(dad!eddie munson x mom!reader)

more dad!eddie, penny and baby wayne adventures can be found here.

summary: . . . jonathan and argyle return to spend an afternoon helping Eddie babysit your toddler and newborn at everyone’s favorite fast food place. once again, they are of no help. neither is Steve.

a/n: everyone loved Three Men and a Baby so here's a little sequel with everyone's fav babysitter and we couldn't leave baby wayne out. as always, all characters live in Hawkins because i said so. mistakes will be fixed later!

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“You know, it kinda feels like we’re a family.” Argyle pointed out from his place on the soft mat just outside of the play place. He was yanking off his shoes to stick into the cubby next to Penny’s significantly smaller ones.

“Kind of? We’re at McDonald’s with our toddler and our baby, pretty sure we are a family.” Jonathan chimed in from his spot across the booth from Eddie. He was sunk into the seat, shoeless and waiting for Argyle with Penny on his lap.

The three year old was practically shaking with energy, eager to jump into the playpen but since there were a couple of older kids in there, Argyle and Jonathan would be going in with her to make sure nothing happened to her. Truthfully, she probably would have been fine on her own but Jonathan and Argyle insisted, not amused with the idea of some seven year old touching their precious Penny with gross, sticky barbecue sauce covered fingers.

Not on their watch.

“With my toddler and my baby.” Eddie corrected them with a lazy grin, fingers gently massaging the fuzz on the top of the one month old’s head. He was leaned back on his side of the booth, baby Wayne curled up and fast asleep on his chest despite the noise around him.

He was heavy sleeper, much like his dad had been before Penny and he came into the world. Now, Eddie was lucky if he didn’t wake up when you moved around in your sleep next to him.

“Same thing,” Argyle mumbled with a vague hand gesture, tossing his hat onto the table. “Man, you asked us to help you with the kids for the day, so we’ve got joint custody right now.”

“You asked me if you guys could hang out with us!”

With your family of three having turned into a family of four, it was clear you were outgrowing the trailer Big Wayne had left you and Eddie when he’d moved in with his new ‘lady friend’. So while you were out apartment hunting with Eden, Eddie had stayed home with Penny and Wayne. This time around, he was much more confident in himself being solo, despite the addition of the new baby. Besides, Penny was easy to watch right now.

She was so taken with baby Wayne, whom she affectionally referred to as her ‘potatoes’ because it had been what Grandpa Wayne compared him to when he was born, shockingly pale, small and covered heavily in white biofilm. He’d since developed color, but Penny had latched onto it and wouldn’t be letting the nickname go anytime soon.

Jonathan and Argyle had stopped by—a normal occurrence since the first time they’d hung around Eddie and Penny when she had been the newborn—under the guise of having caught wind from Eden that Eddie would be alone with the kids.

Eddie knew they just missed Penny and were trying to be the cool uncles they thought they were and he hadn’t wanted her to feel like she wasn’t going to be getting attention now that Wayne had finally made his arrival in the world, so he figured a little outing would do her some good.

Apparently it did Argyle and Jonathan some good, too.

“Hurry up, Argyle.” Jonathan hissed, and Penny nodded from her place on his lap.

“Yeah, huwwy!”

“Oh my god—fine, let’s go already!” Argyle threw his hands up in exasperation. He didn’t need to tell her twice. Penny climbed down from Jonathan’s lap faster than he could try to get a hold of her and made a run for the play place, quickly diving in, much to Argyle and Jonathan’s horror.

“Dude, you just let her go alone!”

“You could have grabbed her, why did you tell her to do that?”

They were still arguing as they crawled in after her, Jonathan looking absolutely ridiculous as he called out for her in hopes of finding her quickly.

Eddie laughed, big doe eyes focused on a window of the play place where he could see Penny waving a little hand at him. She already made it to the highest level, Jonathan and Argyle wouldn’t be getting a hold of her anytime soon.

For a good fifteen minutes, Eddie watched as Jonathan and Argyle popped up in spots Penny had previously been occupying just a couple of moments too late, it looked like they were still arguing as they crawled through each section in search of her.

Wayne stirred, his tiny body wiggling on Eddie’s chest.

Eddie sat up a little straighter as his hand cradled the back of his son’s head to lay him across his lap. “Someone’s finally up."

Wayne was staring up at him, face set in a slight scowl. The differences between Penny and Wayne would never cease to amuse Eddie. While Penny had been a happy baby, if not a little judgmental looking with her expressions, Wayne’s main emotion was bothered. He was remarkably unimpressed with just about everyone except his parents, so far. Most babies were figuring out how to use their face and constantly smiling when doing so, but not Wayne.

He only moved his face around to look angry or annoyed. He seemed to be filled with attitude and Eddie honestly couldn’t be more proud, especially when you were cooing over it. Probably wouldn’t appreciate it when Wayne would become a teenager, but for now it was stinking cute. It also helped that you seemed to be a copy machine, while they might differ in personalities so far, Wayne looked almost exactly like Penny had when she was his age, though instead of a fully covered head of curls, his head was mostly fuzz with a main strip of the curls going down the center of his head—when it was Wayne’s bath time, Eddie liked to give him a mohawk—and you were pleased when he came out with a pair of big brown, doe eyes, too. Along with unfairly long eyelashes.

Wayne gave a loud grunt up at him, his barely-there eyebrows furrowing as he seemingly tried to yell at his dad.

“Ooh and on the wrong side of the crib again, huh?” Eddie frowned mockingly down at him, clicking his tongue as he bounced his baby gently.

Wayne still wasn’t amused with his daddy’s teasing and gave another warning yelp without breaking eye contact.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. You’re so intimidating and so tough, no one can mess with you.” Eddie cooed, raising the tiny baby in his hold to his lips as he pressed a kiss to the soft, sweet smelling skin of his son’s forehead.

Regardless of how annoyed he seemed to be, just like every other baby Wayne was a sucker for human contact and preened under Eddie’s affections, when Eddie pulled back to look at him he was more content, fists uncurling to stretch out his little wrinkly fingers as he suckled on his bottom lip.

“What the hell is this?”

The voice surprised Wayne so much his little arms shot up and his body stiffened, back arching. Eddie sighed as he reached for the pacifier on the table top before acknowledging the drama queen.

“That would be my son, Harrington.”

Steve rolled his eyes, foot tapping in irritation as his hands rested on his hips.

“I know that, Munson, I wasn’t referring to the cute little bread loaf. I’m talking about how I was at the stoplight down the street and I just so happened to glance into the parking lot and see both your van and a certain pizza delivery service car. Which would mean you, Jonathan and Argyle are hanging out without me again. And I know you guys wouldn’t do that, especially since the whole friend group knows how I feel about being left out.”

“You hang out with plenty of other people all the time.” Eddie reminded him as he held the pacifier to Wayne’s lips. The glutton accepted it eagerly and relaxed into his dad’s embrace once again.

“I mean being left out with guys! Not the kids!”

“You’ve got Robin.”

“I said not with the kids.”

“I’m telling her you said that.”

“I know you’re probably joking—or at least I hope to god you are, but please don’t do that.” Steve didn’t bother waiting for an invitation to sit down, just sat in the side of the booth Argyle had been occupying. “Where are Cheech and Chong, anyways?”

Before Eddie could answer, a crash came from one of the upper levels of the playpen.

“THERE SHE IS, QUICK GRAB HER!” Argyle yelled, followed by the sound of another bang and some groaning. “Ow! Dude, get your elbow out of my kidneys!”

“Then stop trying to crowd in front of me! You’re gonna get us stuck!”

“Never mind.” Steve chuckled and Eddie smirked when he caught sight of Penny running past another barrier window, still wild and free. While he couldn’t see Argyle or Jonathan, he could make out the figures belonging to the two grown men in the red tubing. “Do I even want to know what they’re doing?”

“It’s pretty funny with the context, but it’s probably even funnier without.” Eddie shifted until Wayne was tucked in the crook of his arm, big brown eyes heavily lidded as he sucked on his pacifier and stared up at his dad.

“Can I hold him?” Steve asked, trying to get Wayne to look at him with mind powers he lacked. It didn’t work, Wayne was still zeroed in on Eddie.

“Yeah, hold on.” Eddie placed one hand under Wayne’s body and the other under his head, before lifting him up like an offering. Steve’s hand carefully replaced Eddie’s and then was pulling Wayne to his body, arms secure around his little body.

“Oh.” Steve was taken aback with the angry glare directed up at him. He’d only seen the one month old a handful of times so far in his existence and he hadn’t really gotten to hold him for long due to the amount of arms he had to be passed through in one go whenever he was brought around. Robin told him Wayne had reminded her of how unfriendly Eddie looked to people who didn’t know him—and people who did—and he was starting to get what she meant.

“That—that’s a face he’s making. Cute, but damn, he’s a little scary.”

Maybe it was mean of him, Eddie was hoping Wayne would cry and knock Steve’s ego down a few notches. He had faith in his little boy.

“He’s just a little delayed when it comes to his facial expressions, I’m sure as soon as he learns how to express emotions, he’ll be all smiley.” Eddie stayed fixated on the baby in Steve’s arms, watching his face for any impending outbursts.

Much to his surprise, he did start smiling. Right up at Steve. The big haired jerk started beaming. “Look! He’s doing it!”

Eddie tried not to frown, Wayne hadn’t smiled like that around him on his own yet, why the hell was he doing it for Harrington?

He got his answer when Wayne’s stomach began to gurgle, followed by the distinct sound of him utterly obliterating his diaper.

Steve looked horrified as he realized Wayne was pooping in his arms, but he looked traumatized when he realized he could feel warmth spreading up Wayne’s little back. Then the smell punched him in the face. “Oh my god.”

Eddie’s head flew back as he laughed hard, tears welling up in his eyes. That explained why Wayne had been in such a sour mood, his poor baby was probably feeling so relieved after dropping that dump.

Steve didn’t look so amused, he stood up and moved over to give Wayne back to Eddie before disappearing into the play place after Penny, Jonathan and Argyle.

“Good job, baby.” Eddie cooed, pressing a kiss into his baby’s fat cheeks. With his tummy no longer an issue, Wayne was cooing right back at him, looking entirely relaxed.

Eddie gathered Wayne and his diaper bag, slipping out to the parking lot. Once he’d made it to the van, he placed Wayne down on the seat and quickly changed his diaper, making sure to clean any blow out he might have gotten on his back. Steve had to be a weenie when it came to smells because it didn’t stink to Eddie, especially considering the only thing Wayne consumed was breast milk.

“How you feeling?” Eddie asked the infant as he swapped out his onesie with a cleaner one. He liked this one better, anyways. It had been Penny’s old Hellfire onesie, something you made her when you’d found out you were pregnant and what she wore when you’d dressed her as him for her first Halloween. Obviously, Wayne didn’t say anything back but Eddie had grown used to talking to Penny when she hadn’t been able to talk yet, so he was more than comfortable doing the same thing with Wayne.

“Yeah, I’d feel better after that, too. But knowing you, you’re starving now that you’re empty, aren’t you?” Eddie gently pulled the pacifier from Wayne’s mouth, lips twitching into a smile when his baby continued to mime the suckling motion. He held his knuckle up to Wayne’s little lips and sure enough his little guy sucked eagerly at it.

Eddie pulled the small bottle containing your breast milk from one of the side pouches of the diaper bag and decided to leave the bag itself in the car. He wasn’t planning on sticking around for too much longer since Penny was probably wearing herself out, no doubt she’d need a nap soon. As would Jonathan and Argyle, probably.

Once he was back inside and back in the booth, Eddie fed Wayne his bottle, gazing down at him with adoration as his sons’ eyes closed in content.

“Hi, daddy.” Penny appeared at the table, the curls on her little head going in every direction as she struggled to pull herself onto the seat. Eddie placed a hand on her bottom, simultaneously feeling her diaper for any droopiness—she wasn’t entirely potty trained yet—and hoisting her up next to him.

“Did you go potty?”

“No.”

“Do you need to?”

“No. Tooce?”

“Juice, baby.” Eddie handed her the apple juice box that had come with her happy meal, watching as she drained it. She’d need to go pee soon, after that.

Now, if Penny was here then . . . where were the the guys who had tasked themselves with watching her?

Both he and Penny glanced up when they heard Steve’s voice coming from the section of the playpen right above them.

“I’m telling you guys, I didn’t see her when I came in!”

“Well, I’ve been blocking this part off and Argyle’s stuck in the green diesel truck side, she hasn’t come by here so she had to have passed you!” Jonathan’s voice shot back.

“Wait—he’s stuck?”

“He got a cramp in his leg and he can’t stretch it out since it’s so cramped in there, so he’s just got to wait it out—hey, did you go through the yellow tunnel yet?”

Both of Steve’s elbows smacked into the plastic walls around him as he changed direction, hissing in pain. “Fuck—no, hold on I’ll go check. Meet me back at the green diesel.”

Eddie could make out the silhouette of their figures crawling away from each other and then it got quiet before both Eddie and Penny started laughing.

Penny giggled into her hand as she rested her head against her daddy’s arm. He stroked a hand over her heated face, the apples of her cheeks dark from the wild chase she’d lead her uncles on.

“You tired yet, baby?”

“Yuh-huh. I had so many funs, daddy! Unca Johnny and Unca Ahgle chaseded me, but I am so fast! Is my little baby potatoes eating, daddy?” Penny got a grip on his jacket and used it to balance herself as she stood up on the seat to peer down at her baby brother who had his eyes closed but was still suckling on the bottle.

His heart warmed at the sight, Eddie loved how much Penny loved Wayne. He’d always been lonely as a kid and longed for companionship, even a sibling. Now, he was just happy Penny wouldn’t have to go through life with that same loneliness. And neither would Wayne, they’d have each other through thick and thin. They’d have both of their parents, too.

Eddie was so thankful for his family, suddenly he longed to have you near him to complete it again.

Fate seemed to be taking it easy on him these last few years, because he got you, he had Penny, he had Wayne, and now he had you again, this time walking into the McDonalds.

Penny spotted you first and began jumping up and down to get your attention. Once you’d spotted her, you hurried over and let her jump into your arms, holding her close to your body as she clung to you.

“Mommy, mommy! Look!” She points over at the play place, you followed her finger, assuming she was trying to get you to admire the build.

“I see! Were you playing in there?”

“Yeah! Yeah! I was play’n wiff Unca Johnny and Unca Ahgle.”

“Let me guess, your uncles are still playing in there without you.”

“Uh-huh!”

“Argyle, you’re blocking the way!” You heard Steve yell out.

“Go around! My leg hurts!”

“We literally can’t, Argyle.” Jonathan’s voiced echoed above you as Eden stepped out from behind you with a heavy sigh.

“Did Argyle get stuck again?” The shorter girl, clad in black directed the question at Eddie who was biting back a grin.

“Green diesel,” he snickered out, nodding to the section of the play place. Eden’s shoulders sagged before she walked over to the cubby and kicked her shoes off.

“The things I do for love,” she grumbled as she climbed through the entrance and up the large purple stairs, not having to wcrawl as much as the guys did since she was smaller in stature.

“How’d it go?” Eddie asked as you slid in next to him, giving him a kiss before you stroked a hand over your now dozing baby’s cheek.

“Really good! I think I found one you’re gonna like, it’s gated and it’s near the garage, though I’m not sure about the gated part now. Can’t imagine the amount of trouble The Brothers Pothead would have with the gate code.”

Right on cue you heard more loud thumps and bangs coming from above you.

“Argyle, you have to stretch your leg out!”

“Baby, I can’t! It hurts like hell!”

“Stop cussing, this is a children’s place!”

“Argyle, I will give you five dollars to just suck it up and drag yourself through so we can get Penny and get out of here.”

“Penny’s already out there,” You heard Eden inform the guys who groaned.

“Thought she didn’t get past you, Steve.” Jonathan’s condescending tone could be heard.

“Yes, because I willingly want to be in a confined space that smells like butt sweat. Obviously, I didn’t see her.”

Eddie watched you laugh with a smile on his face before raising his eyebrows down at Penny as she pried herself out of your arms to tug on the sleeve of his jacket.

“It’s stinky in thew, daddy. It weally is. ‘S why I left.”

“That’s gross, baby."

“Yeah.”

You couldn’t wait any longer, carefully plucking your baby from Eddie’s arms. Baby Wayne let out a couple of little squeaks but didn’t stir too much as he curled into your chest, cheek resting against your breast. You spotted the empty bottle in Eddie’s hold and began to gently pat your son’s back. It took a few moments, then he let out the most adorable of burps and for once didn’t spit up all over you.

“Is he still out?” You asked Eddie, unable to see if the baby still had his eyes closed from the angle you had him cradled to your chest at.

“For the most part,” Wayne’s eyes weren’t entirely closed, they were open just enough for Eddie to tell his eyes were rolled back. Very metal looking. With Eddie’s arms free, Penny decided to climb right into them, securing her own around his neck.

You raised your baby’s body a little higher to nuzzle your face in the trail of soft, sweet smelling hair, getting a good whiff of his baby scent.

Once you’d had your fill, you shuffled further into the booth until Eddie could slip an arm over your shoulders, thumb stroking against the side of your neck and you relaxed into the hard plastic of the booth, shooting your daughter a smile when you caught her staring at you, “Get comfortable, baby. I think we’re gonna be here for a while.”

Eddie laughed and Penny didn’t look like she cared.

“I've got a riddle for you, sweetheart,” Eddie started, shifting Penny around until her back was to his front and she was perched comfortably in his lap. “What’s the difference between the three stooges and three grown men stuck in a children’s play course?”

You pretended to think for a few minutes. “Mmm, you got me. What do you think, Penny?”

Penny grinned, shoulders shrugging.

“I dunno.”

“Nothing.” Eddie finally answered. “There is no difference.”

“Whas the stooges?” Penny asked, little hand scratching the curls on her head.

“You’re ruining daddy’s joke, baby.” Eddie playfully growled down at her, leaning down to rest his forehead against hers as she craned her neck back to look up at him, giggling in delight and oh so pleased to have caused ‘trouble’ for her daddy.

“I should have just kept driving.” A familiar voice passed over you from the tube directly above your head.

“Eddie, is that Steve?”

“Sweetheart, I said three stooges and I wasn’t referring to Eden, does it look like I have a death wish?”

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c-nstantine · 6 months

Text

Bi Han and child no. 8

ngl college is kicking my ass....... but here's more Bi Han with his breeding kink per my last poll. I think I'm gonna write all of them just in order of most to least

Y/N laid on her side on the bed. Her husband was not home when she had prepped herself and the kids for bed. It was harder to fall asleep without him but it could be done as she deeply inhaled the scent of his pillow. She heard the creek of their shared door before he attempted being silent. Somehow for a ninja, she could always hear his steps. He showered before she felt a large dip in the bed. At first, he simply pulled her by her waist to be closer to him. She welcomed the touch of her husband before he started to grind his hips against hers.

"Bi Han, no," Y/N muttered, rolling over to face her husband. The pale moonlight shined into their room and she could just make out the features of his face. She knew her husband very well. It had been about a year and a half since baby number seven, which meant Bi Han was ready to try again.

"Why not? Do you not want to please your husband?" Bi Han said, tilting her head up so she could look at him. One of her legs draped over his waist and she could feel every inch of him through his pajama pants. It was tempting as one of his hands gripped the bottom of her thigh. Her mumu rose ever so slightly.

"I would love nothing more than to please you but you only want to fuck me 'cause I'm ovulating," Y/N said bopping her husband on the noise.

"That's not-" Bi Han was taken aback but this very true accusation.

"Don't you lie to me," She whispered while wagging a finger at him.

"Do I not make love to you no matter the time of month? Even on your cycle," Bi Han said leaning in closely. He was the king of avoiding the question when it came to his wife. He gave her a quick peck on the lips, hoping that would soothe away her doubts.

"So you don't want another baby?" She asked looking through her lashes.

"I would gladly welcome another child if that is what the gods have intended for us," Bi Han chose the diplomatic answer to not anger his wife.

"You're so full of shit," He angered her anyway as she rolled away from her husband. Her back was facing him as he began to kiss down her neck.

"You'd deny your husband?" He whispered and gained no response. He simply began to trace her thigh with his cool fingertips. He looked for any sign of discomfort or agitation and smirked when he found none.

"I just want to please my wife like a good husband would," He whispered in her ear. Between his voice and his hands, Y/N was soaked through her panties. It would've made for an uncomfortable night if she hadn't let him take care of her.

"Bi Han, fuck, fine. Last one," Y/N gave in to her husband. For the grandmaster, he was a dirty temptation that Y/N could not resist.

"Last one," Bi Han agreed for now and sealed it with a passionate kiss in the moonlight.

#x black!reader #black!reader #x black reader #black reader #mk 1 x reader #mk 1 x black reader #mk bi han #bi han x reader #bi han x black reader #bi han x black!reader

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bowieandqueen11 · 1 year

Text

Celebrating Roman Roy’s Birthday Would Include...

Request: OOOOOH i have one if you don't mind. how about hcs for celebrating roman's birthday? cause as we know when it comes to roys there's inevitably Something Traumatic happening on every holiday, i just want him to have a good day with someone who loves him🥺

Love honestly so true he deserves someone to just love him without condition :( I am FEELING

Warning: strong language, implied eating disorder and mentions of childhood mental/physical abuse!

(I do not own Succession or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @bettercallgerri.)

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

Roman Roy decided very early on the day to make an incredibly sensible decision. For the next twenty three and a half hours, he was going to ignore his phone every time it started vibrating in his jacket pocket, and irritated the skin against his breast. He was going to squeeze his eyes shut, and pick at his fingernails when at one in the afternoon, on the dot, his sister would send exactly the same generic fruit basket for his birthday as she did the previous year. He would crinkle his nose in irritation when the eldest Roy sent him a comic voicemail about how ‘he was still that little pup that threw a fish at him’ during their camping trip, despite his age.

And worst of all, and perhaps the most difficult for Roman Roy, he wasn’t going to feel depressed once about how his father had forgotten his birthday again. Well, not until he received the stereotypical rushed job of a blank card and sloppy signature of his father typed at the bottom the next day, sent as if he were signing a cheque. He wrote it off as being just another transaction: signing away all the love he owed Roman, justifying it as the price one has to pay for success. Only then would Roman allow himself to excuse off to the bathroom for a moment, before curling up into a ball and crying into his knees as he had done for every birthday he could remember.

He just wanted to spend one day: one single, solitary, sought after, scorned day to spend with the one person in his life he had always loved without hesitation. With the only person who truly saw him. Who loved him for who he was right now, and who, you knew, he should be. So, he decided the rest of his family could go fuck themselves for a meagre twenty four hours, while he made the most of snuggling up to you in bed.

Roman’s always been a naturally restive man at heart, and so it wasn’t long until that little goblin smirk of his came peering past the duvet and over your shoulder.

‘You know what?’, he murmured, resting his elbow by his head so he could turn and lie facing you properly. ‘Fuck it. We should just, I don’t fucking know, stay here all day until we have become one with the comforter.’

‘As lovely as that sounds’, you stretch up and groan, slapping Roman’s hand away as he reaches up to tickle under your armpit. ‘I have plans, I’m afraid.’

‘You- fucking- what? You have plans, are you fucking me right now?’ For a second he jumps up, his eyes squinting as he stares at you crestfallen. But then he sees the smile you’re trying to hide twitch at the corner of your lips, and he falls back down onto the mattress unceremoniously. While he reaches around and tries to thump you in the face with his pillow, you take the opportunity to wrestle his arm and loop it around your own. He gladly gives in, settling down next to you again as you continue: ‘I may have plans, but you’re very welcome to join in with them. If you’re nice to me, that is.’

‘I’m always fucking nice to you’, Roman mutters, but he reaches up to accept the kiss you’re trying to place on the side of his stubble. ‘Good’, you turn back to look at the alarm clock on your bedside table, ‘because we have to be up and out in approximately fifteen minutes.’

‘You are full of fucking surprises, you know that? God, I love you.’

Ever since you and Roman were seven years old, and his father had hit him for the first time after sneaking you up the side of his bedroom window for a sleepover his father had strictly forbidden, as he deemed Roman getting up bright and early for his fencing lessons the next morning to be far more important, you had kept a list in your head of all the mundane things Roman had been punished for as a child. Every birthday since then, you tried to strike one off the list, and this year you had decided to plan ahead, and asked Karolina to hire out a park for you a couple of states away for a water fight.

It was silly, and stupid, and childish, but when Roman sauntered into the kitchen after his shower and saw you trying to shove pretty hefty super soakers into your backpack, his face lit up like a child’s on Christmas morning. Hence the two of you flying off in your own private helicopter, trying to place a little wriggle room between Roman and the rest of the Roys; you felt almost ridiculous for a moment, whizzing past buildings and waving treelines with only a couple of water guns on you, but Roman was gripping onto your fingers so tightly the whole journey that the embarrassment flooded away. The whole time, his foot was tapping against the edge of yours like a wasp’s sting, his bottom lip nearly bloody from how hard he was chewing it. Whether it was from anticipation, or whether he had the foresight to anticipate the abuse he was going to garner from his father for the wasted journey and tabloid pictures you didn’t know. You held his hand back just as tightly, praying for him to have just one happy day.

Thankfully, once you arrived, Roman literally leapt out of the helicopter like some kind of Doberman. He shrugged off his coat and threw it back into the cabin, before rustling in the bag to grab his loot. Before you could even question what he was doing, a chilled gust of water came splatting you straight up the face, and hurtling you backwards. Let’s just say, Roman’s high pitched hyena laugh was heard all around the fringes of the daisy-strewn field, as he went skidding across the blades like a wanted criminal.

Sometimes, you would hold your hands up as if in defeat, and he would come strutting over to you with his gun in the air and one hand on his waist. Stating that you had run out of water, you wanted to wipe that smug smile off his face as he came and tried to pull your hands behind your back. He walked you both backwards until you were pinned against the tree, and although he’s doing his best to look all sexy, and mysterious, and sheriff like as he tries to unlatch your fingers slowly from the triggers, it was a huge mistake. Using the distraction, you pull his own gun from him and pull his shirt forward, spraying water straight down his bare chest.

‘Oh, you fucker!’

If anyone could see the two of you: sprinting about like children in the mud, not caring as bits of wet dirt skidded up and stained your suit shirts. Parading through the flowers, laughter pealing like bells wherever you went. They would think you were free, and perhaps, for a moment, you both were.

At one point Roman comes swinging down from an oak tree and scares the living absolute fuck out of you. For a second he looks afraid: that remnant of his father’s ‘love’ making him feel sick to his stomach, but that is quickly alleviated when you come over and trace down the slight stubble of his neck. Your pointer finger comes to trace up his chin, and then over the top of his lip, before you lean up and gently melt your lips against his awaiting ones.

The two of you decide (once you’ve managed to unlatch spider monkey from you) to swing your legs up over the tree branch and sit up there for a while, like you used to do when you were teenagers sickly sweet in a hidden, reciprocated love. Back in the days when Roman would carry himself, wounded and crying, to trudge around his father’s estate and find wherever your newest hidie-hole from the world was. It didn’t matter if it was underneath one of the neighbouring orchard trees, or out sitting on a lounge chair on his bedroom balcony, or tucked up inside one of the pool sheds, hidden between unused surfboards and half-chewed pool noodles, Roman had a sixth sense when it came to finding you. You, too, always knew he was coming: mainly from the sound of impeding sniffles, and you had your arm out and ready for him to come curl up into. Against his side, he would crest himself like the fallen son, trying to make himself as small a target as possible against your chest.

Sometimes you would tuck a book out from your bag and read to him. Other times, the two of you would just chatter like soft sunlight amidst the dark blots of his father’s pristine possessions. Most of all, Roman would usually fall into an uneasy sleep against your neck, and would only rise again once the irritated call of his newest nanny rang out from the veranda.

It had taken him a while to realise he could feel safe in your arms, rather than just hide away, but when he did, he would rest his head on your shoulder and wish he could stay alone with you forever.

So he was more than delighted to re-enact his favourite parts of his childhood with you, even if he can’t fully settle his whole heart into it. You try your best to seem as nonchalant as ever: leaning your head back until it scratches on the bark, swinging one leg over until it catches the sharp gleam of the cresting mid-afternoon sun. Roman’s hunched over, sitting in between your legs, and although he’s being set alight with some kind of giddiness that he can freely be with you now without having to hide, his body’s response is still set to flight or fight. His fingers dance over your legs like a skimming dragonfly, running over the inseams before landing on your ankles and squeezing.

Becoming over alert of how his eyes keep darting away from you, as if he’s still awaiting the strike he knows is punishment for daring to show love towards anyone, you reach out for him. After an awkward moment of manoeuvring, the two of you manage to reach an agreement on how to sit: you still leaning back, and Roman now lying against your chest, with his legs straight out against the skittish twigs. He looks ethereal against the soft rolls of honey that seemed to drape around the two of you, the crimson burnt fringes of the leaves protecting him from the outside world. And yet Roman still jumps when he feels your fingers brush against the edge of his face, as if you had been trying to burn him.

It’s taken time. It takes time. It will take time. But to you, using all the understanding and patience in the world would be worth it, if it allowed Roman Roy to live. So you just hold him around the waist, and wait for him to become comfortable. You whisper quotes from your favourite books into his ears, and the sky slowly begins to roll over with lavender and a deep blushing maroon, you tell him about the new memes online from Connor’s campaign. He snorts at that, almost twitching awake in your grasp, but you appreciate the way he tries by leaning backwards and languidly blinking, pressing a brushing kiss against your bottom lip.

Before the two of you return home, he decides he wants to see how ‘the peasants live’ by eating in a normal restaurant. Although he shudders at your implication that he’s turning into Cousin Greg, it ends up being one of the happiest dining experiences of his life. Roman had always had a difficult relationship with food: between his mother’s teasing about his looks at the dining table when he was a toddler, to his father smacking him for bad table manners, to every adult dinner party revolving around sub-plots and back-stabbing, he’d found it all difficult to swallow. Being with you, thankfully, made the experience a little easier.

He even found himself laughing when the sushi you had tried to feed him with your chopsticks came flopping down onto the table in a mushed heap of rice and wasabi, and the joy didn’t leave his face as you came up to cradle his face and wipe bits of salmon away from the lines of his lips. The whole time, he was incredibly aware of how carelessly he allowed his knee to rest against your own; he was conscious of how other customers might notice the way he held your hand over the bar stools between courses, but for the first time in his life, he allowed himself the freedom not to care.

One of the waitresses makes a comment about how sweet the two of you look together on the way out, and oh my god does Roman ride that high the whole way back to the park. Cue him being a full peachy, blubbering, hyper mess, with giggles only a dog could hear slipping out of his mouth every ten metres down the pavements.

You give him his present when you get home: you’d collated over the last couple of months some of your favourite pictures, both of you and Roman over the years, as well as full family shots. You had asked Connor, Kendall and Shiv to add some of their favourite memories in the margins of the shots, until the black and white photobook was bursting with neatly looped letters and little drawings of dicks (kindly added by Ken.)

Roman chokes when he sees it. He fists his hand into his mouth, shrugging as his eyes widen, brimming with tears as he flips through the pages. He starts getting over hyper, repeating over and over and over again that ‘yeah, yeah- it’s nice, I like it’, because he thinks it’s some kind of trick. Because he can’t handle the thought of his siblings loving him without some sort of condition. Because just one kind word it’s what he’s been seeking from them his whole life, and your eyes widen in horror as you realise why he’s taking a step backwards. Why his bottom lip is jutting out. Why he looks like a noose is tightening around his neck. You glance down, and you can see it in all the pictures: in every frame, his siblings are looking dead-on, deadpan into the camera, and he’s glancing up at them. In the pictures with you, he’s clearly choking down the love that’s bursting out of his every being as he gazes at you in every. single. one.

It guts you to realise it’s taking you so long to reciprocate just a little of that love that’s been suffocating him his whole life.

He regresses into Logan Roy mode, and it breaks your heart all the more; he wanders over to the cabinet to pour a tumbler of whiskey for the two of you, before settling himself down on the edge of the settee. He pulls out his phone, getting prepared to come back to himself: to scroll through the news channel and chat with you about the events he’d missed while taking a few hours off for himself.

Yet he doesn’t complain when you tenderly take his hand, choosing instead not to let him wallow. You lead him over to one of the armchairs over looking the cityscape, pushing on his chest until he collapses down into it. With a content sigh, he watches you go choose a book from the collection you had curated by the television, before coming back to squeeze yourself in beside him. He’s half sitting on your lap, but neither of you really give a stuff as he winds his arms around your neck and settles against your heartbeat. With his head on your collar bone, and your finger mindlessly drawing patterns in the tufts of hair behind his ear, you begin to read aloud to him. From time to time you peer behind the spine and catch his eye, and it makes you fumble over your words a little when you spot him. He’s gazing up at you as if you were perfection incarnate, and for the first time in his sorrowful life, Roman Roy begins his next year on this planet with one hopeful thought smacking around the inside of his head: perhaps this year, he won’t have to suffer just for being Roman.

#succession #succession imagine #roman roy #roman roy imagine #roman roy x reader #roman roy headcanons #kieran culkin #x reader #succession fanfic #succession fanfiction #kendall roy #shiv roy #logan roy #connor roy

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micromoon · 2 years

Text

Breaking point

Pairing: Steven Grant x afab!reader (mentions of Jake Lockley x fem!reader and Marc Spector x fem!reader)

Rating: 18+ (minors, DNI!)

Warnings: established relationship, you know about all the moonboys and they know about each other as well, female masturbation, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), creampie, a hint of degradation, jealousy, power imbalance, Steven being a little mean and a cocky and jealous ass(is that considered a warning?), possessiveness, have I mentioned?; jealousy, deep throating, face fucking, spanking, a tiny little bit of double penetration, a tiny hint of humiliation kink?, a teensy tiny bit of angst

Summary: Steven is sick and tired of always being seen as the weakling of the moonboys, being pushed around by everyone around him. He is pent up and wants to let loose and just for once, he doesn't care about the consequences.

Disclaimer: I do not have DID, so if my depiction of it is wrong, please let me know! This is my first time writing after almost three years and im not a native speaker either, so please have mercy on my poor soul

Word count: approax 7k

It's been weeks since you actually got some time with Steven. Since you worked from home, you always had the opportunity to see all of them equally and even though Jake came out rarely, nowadays it's Steven you're missing to see. Whenever he comes back from work, Marc is fronting, telling you how Steven was too tired and just needed his time. You always respected it when the boys needed their space, but after almost three weeks you began to miss him more and more.

Of course, Jake and Marc did everything to distract you, in more than just one way, loving you, holding you, fucking you. Fucking you well. And often. It seemed to blow off the steam you had inside of you, the desire and yearning you felt for Steven, your eyes wandering to the mirror more than often, asking yourself if Steven was watching right now and if he enjoyed it.

You had no idea that he indeed watched. With a clenched jaw, his gaze hard and stoic, no emotion seen in his usually soft features. You writhed and squirmed so beautifully whenever one of them took care of you, your body flushed with lust and your eyes hazy with tears. They just seemed to always hit the spot, which Steven was able to as well, but he did it so lovingly that it never made you cry from pleasure. It made you shudder and shiver, made you smile and sigh, but not downright scream or moan, just how you did whenever you were with Marc or Jake.

And that made him jealous. More than he actually wanted to admit – because how did that sound? He was jealous of his alters, those who looked just like him but weren't him, in so many ways. It sounded stupid to him. Why didn't he just do what they did to you?

Because that wasn't him. Steven didn't have any anger boiling in his chest, nothing he had to release, it was always the same.

But since Donna decided to get to an even higher level of bitchiness, he knew it wouldn't take long for him to absolutely explode. It seemed like she just went to work to nag at him and boss him around, which he tolerated for way too long. The constant mocking of Donna paired with the jealousy of his alters finally got to a point he wasn't able to ignore anymore and so he decided, that it was time to finally blow off some steam.

“Would you, for once, do your god damn job, Steven? Stand by the shop and just shut up, no one wants to hear about your nonsense ramblings of the seven Ennead.”

Donna's annoyed voice reverberated inside of Steven's head, her voice reminding him of long nails dragging along a chalkboard – the noise absolutely hideous, ringing in his ears. He gulped. He could feel his blood pressure rising, just like it did all those days before, white noise slowly forming in his head, successfully drowning out Donna for a few seconds. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

“Nine, Donna. They are nine.”, he pressed through gritted teeth, sighing exasperated as he just shook his head at her ignorant behaviour. She huffed, chewing on her gum obnoxiously, “Seven, nine, whatever. I don't give a shit. What I give a shit about is how many of those sweets you'll sell, so get to fucking work or I'll make you do inventory again.” And with those words she disappeared from Stevens sight, making him roll his eyes as he lightly leaned back and took a deep breath.

“Just three more hours..”, he muttered to himself, gripping the little package of sweets so hard that it actually ripped. His eyebrows furrowed, visibly displeased with himself as he crouched down and collected the sweets, catching a glimpse of his own reflection, Marc staring back at him.

“You look pissed”, he hummed, amusement dancing in his eyes as Steven glared at him, “Oh yeah, I actually am pissed, Marc. Do you want a price for figuring that out?”, he asked him back, his voice snappy which caused Marc to chuckle darkly.

“Damn, you really need to get your dick wet again. I can see the tension in your shoulders”, Marc commented, making Steven roll his eyes once again, but at Marc's next words, he stilled.

“Y/N misses you too, you know.”

Steven looked right back into the mirror, something changing in his eyes as soon as Marc mentioned you. There was desire, lust, but first and foremost – yearning. He yearned for you, so insanely much, but formerly, he felt so ashamed that he wasn't able to make you squirt or cum the way Marc or Jake were able to.

But that was over. Today he knew he was able to make you scream his name, only his, and not Marcs or Jakes. He was sure that tonight, he'd make you forget about both of them, only him occupying your mind and body.

“I do too. Tonight you won't be fronting and neither will Jake. No discussion about that.”, he said sternly, before standing up again and throwing the sweets into the trash, giving Marc no chance to answer and finally getting to concentrate on the task at hand: work.

While Steven was at work, you already finished yours. You cleaned the apartment, doing it all in one of Steven's shirts. You laid down on the couch, Steven's scent filling up your nostrils, causing you to lightly press your thighs against each other.

God, you missed Steven's tender and soft touch. You missed the way he caressed you, made love to you. He was different from Marc and Jake, that was obvious from the start, but that was exactly why you loved him. Even though you always had a feeling that he was holding something back, hiding something from you that he didn't want you to see. Whenever the two of you made love and he grabbed you a bit too harsh, he apologized as if he broke his aunts favourite porcelain, which always caused you to blink in wonder.

Was he afraid he could hurt you? Didn't he see how rough the other two were with you and how much you were able to take? Or did he not trust you enough for that?

You didn't know. But god, you wanted him so bad. You wanted him to lose his temper just once, so he was able to release all his stress at once. The thought of Steven getting dominant with you, manhandling you and pushing you into the positions he wanted caused your pussy to throb in need.

You took a deep breath, before putting your middle finger into your mouth to lightly suckle on it, pressing your thighs a bit harder together, to get even the slightest bit of friction to your clit.

When you deemed your finger wet enough, you pushed your hand underneath your panties, spreading your legs widely as you slowly started to circle your clit, imagining Steven's voice and touch. Slowly you started to move your hips against your hand, your fingers slipping between your wet folds as you circled your entrance once, collecting some of your arousal to spread it all over your pussy.

“Fuck”, you moaned, rolling your hips more and more, your other hand sneaking underneath Steven's shirt to play with your nipples and when you noticed that it got too hot, you took the shirt off and mindlessly threw it away.

You knew it didn't take long for you to cum, always having been rather sensitive, especially when it comes to your clit and just when you thought you could come, there was this noise.

Usually, you'd just continue, but not when you heard that sound. It was the familiar bell sound you set as the messaging sound for your boys. So you took your hand out of your panties, grabbing your phone and unlocking it.

Your heart almost skipped a beat when you saw who exactly send you a message, a giddy feeling spreading in your tummy, something that made your pussy throb even more than your fingers did just now.

“I can't wait to see you tonight, my dear. - S”

The smile that spread all over your face was out of this world and you immediately sat up, forgetting about the orgasm you almost had and just focusing on the message.

“Me neither, Steven. Please come home quickly.”, you sent back, quickly standing up and hopping underneath the shower. If you were desperate for his touch, you were absolutely certain that he was dying for yours. So without thinking twice, you made yourself ready, putting on the body lotion you knew Steven loved and a plain shirt – knowing that he was the type to prefer you absolutely naked.

But in your rush and excitement, you actually didn't notice how you didn't grab Steven's, but Marc's shirt.

Of course. Just when Steven's shift ended, it had to rain. But not the soft rain, no, it was pouring, wetting him to the bones and making his clothes cling to him uncomfortably. Quickly he hurried to the apartment complex, adamant to get inside fast.

“For fucks sake”, he growled underneath his breath, shaking his head right before stepping into the entrance hall. It was so quiet that it was audible how much he was dripping, the floor underneath him getting slippery and squeaky.

Steven opened the door to your shared apartment. Firstly, it was just his, but after a few months of dating you decided that living together would be a good thing. Especially as you wanted to get to know all of his alters individually, in a space where all of them felt safe enough to talk and be the way they really were.

You heard the door open, your body immediately moving as you walked towards the living room, where he just came in.

“Hey Steven!”, you smiled all happily, about to run to him, but you stopped yourself when you took a better look at him.

And immediately you noticed how something was off. He didn't greet you with the usual chirpy voice of his – very much the opposite, he just stared at you. In disbelief almost. Your eyebrows raised as you looked him up and down. Something about him looked different too. His whole demeanor was not how you were used to it, he stood differently, his back straight and his eyes harsh on your face.

No, not your face. He looked at your body.

A little insecurely you looked down at yourself, fearing that you had a disgusting spot on it from snacking, but when you noticed that there was nothing, you looked back up at him. You tilted your head to the side, stepping a little closer to him reluctantly. Was that even Steven? He didn't look like Steven, nor did he ooze the aura Steven usually had.

“Marc?”, you asked, your voice a little meek as you didn't know what to do out of his reaction – or well, the lack of it.

“Maybe Marc's who you wanted and expected, but no, it is indeed me, Steven.”, he clarified, his British accent thicker than usually, his hair dripping from the rain outside. His words kind of stung in your heart. Why did he say that? You never favored any of the boys over the other, you loved all three of them equally.

“Why would you say that?”, you asked him now, your voice a little thinner than usually and he just huffed a bit, taking off his bag and running a hand through his soaked hair. He looked at you as if it was obvious why he said it, something almost mocking glimmering in his eyes. He took his jacket off and hung it in the bathroom, before coming back to you, his shirt clinging to his toned torso, making him look deliciously buff.

You hated how your pussy clenched at the thought of his soft skin underneath your palms. You were just getting lost in the thought of his hands on your body as he suddenly cut you off with his voice, the question you asked just moments ago almost forgotten.

“Why are you wearing his shirt then?”

The question hit you like a brick. Slowly you looked down at yourself and realized that he was indeed right – you wore one of Marc's favorite shirts.

Not that it was a very big kind of deal, but you noticed already that he always somehow ushered you to wear his clothes when he was fronting.

Was that an ego thing?

You didn't know, but the way Steven got so possessive, no, downright pissed already, because of you wearing Marc's shirt sent shivers down your spine.

To say that you were a brat was an understatement – you had a lot of fun teasing Marc and Jake, only with Steven you never were able to bring yourself to do it, as he was always so sweet and gentle with you.

But this Steven? He was different. And so your inner brat was sparked.

“I just took the first I saw”, you tried to defend yourself, a tiny pout on your lips, trying to make yourself look more alluring and innocent to him, as much as it was possible.

Usually your big puppy eyes always made Steven cave in, but not this time. He looked at you as if your little attempt on calming his nerves didn't even touch him. Slowly he walked up to you, his gaze piercing through you almost as he raised his hand.

The way he looked at you, his whole form still wet from the rain and his aura so dark and intimidating – it made the air around the two of you thicken, the tension rising more and more, leaving you absolutely speechless. Your heart stopped beating for a moment, you were so insanely curious what he'd do next, there was nothing you could expect from him right now as he wasn't how he usually was.

But you were ever so sure that he'd caress your cheek now, saying that he'd understand and that it was a stupid thing of him to get so mad over, but no.

You couldn't be further from the truth.

Because Steven's other hand raised as well, grabbing right into your collar to rip the shirt that you were wearing to pieces.

A loud gasp left your mouth, your eyes almost widening comically as you looked down at yourself, stripped absolutely bare as the little pieces of fabrics fell on the floor, leaving you in your panties only, as you never wore a bra at home.

The sound that left Steven's mouth was amused, the corners of his mouth twitching up as he watched his little artwork.

“'Atta girl, that I like better”, he'd smirk, his eyes meeting yours as his own glistened cheekily. You were still absolutely shocked by the display of sheer power and dominance, standing there like a little deer caught in headlights.

It made Steven chuckle, the sound deep and raspy, making goosebumps rise all over your skin.

And even though you thought this was insanely hot from him, one wasn't as turned on as you.

“What the fuck Steven?! That was one of my favorite shirts!”, Marc protested loudly, his face being seen in the mirror that stood in the living room.

Suddenly, the amused look of Steven vanished within seconds, Marcs appearance annoying him immediately. Steven's eyes met Marcs and with a light huff, he rolled his eyes.

“Grow up, mate.”, he told him, “It's just a shirt. Now get out of my face.”, he demanded, grabbing his rubiks cube and shamelessly throwing it against the mirror, making it shatter and fall onto the floor.

You watched all of this shocked, but you didn't dare turn around to the mirror. You were sure that if you did, you'd anger Steven even more. And something told you that you didn't want to anger him that much.

Finally, he looked back at you, his eyes immediately changing as they were filled with lust. He only needed to look at your bare body, so vulnerable right in front of him. It was enough to get him going, his cock already starting to get hard.

“Get on the bed, love.”

He didn't need to tell you twice, within the blink of an eye you were on your shared bed, your panties already clinging to your core.

When he followed you, you expected him to join you on the bed, lay you down and eat you out, because this was what he always did. He always cared for your pleasure first, made you come multiple times before even thinking of taking something from you.

So without even thinking twice, you made yourself comfortable, laying down with your head on your pillows and your legs spread. But when Steven entered the room and saw the way you lied there, he couldn't help but chuckle.

“If that's an invitation, I must decline.”, he told you matter off factly, as he slowly took his watch off, not even sparing another glance in your direction. His response to your vulnerable position shocked you, but what shocked you more was the electric feeling that was sent to your pussy as soon as he downright refused you.

It sparked something in you, wanting him to want you even more than before. You squeezed your legs together, a small whimper leaving your mouth as you leaned forward and closer to the edge of the bed, closer to him.

“Steven, please”, you tried with the sweetest voice you could muster, but Steven didn't even react. At least not the way you wanted to.

He looked at you, his expression still as amused ever as he lightly tilted his head to the side.

“The headspace of us three has some benefits, did ya' know that, love?”, he suddenly started to explain, as he walked towards the bed, taking long and slow steps.

“For example the thing that we're able to hear whatever our alter is hearing if we're close enough to fronting.”, he continued, his eyes raking over your form, his gaze stopping at your lips for a moment, before he looked right into your eyes.

Finally he raised his hand and put it on your cheek, gently caressing your bottom lip with his thumb, as he looked at you almost apologetically.

“So all your begging that you do to Marc and Jake is nothing new to me”, he told you as he was talking to a little pet that he had to teach wasn't able to get what it wanted by just looking cute.

His words left you speechless. Begging was something that made Marc and even Jake cave in eventually. If that wasn't working with Steven, what to do now?

“But-”, you wanted to protest already, but he shook his head, immediately shutting you up without even having to say a word. What was it about this cocky Steven that made you speechless without any effort?

Maybe it was because whenever you talked back to Jake or Marc, both of them reacted the same – loud, explosive almost. Their punishment was immediate, they even announced it beforehand. But you had a feeling that Steven wasn't that way. His anger was quiet and seething, he was one to strike when you least expected it.

And you had no idea if you were able to handle that today, after being apart from Steven for so long.

“Today you'll be a good girl for me”, he suddenly started, his thumb slowly pressing down on your bottom lip so you'd open your mouth. He forced his thumb inside of you, his eyes darkening immediately as he felt the warmth of your mouth.

“Because if you won't, you'll regret it heavily.”, he said, his words almost cutting through the thick air that was collecting in the whole room. The tension was unbearable and it made you melt, made you putty right in his hands even though he didn't even touch you properly.

“Okay Steven”, you breathed out, your lips curling around his thumb as you gently began to suck on it, causing him to smirk.

“Oh no, you shouldn't waste your stamina on my thumb”, he told you, before slipping it even deeper into your mouth to make you gag, the cheekiest grin on his lips. It made your eyes water, but not only because of him pushing his thumb so far down your throat, no. It was because he was belittling you so much too.

“Get on your knees”, he suddenly instructed you and without thinking twice, you slipped from the bed and right between his legs, attempting to open his pants and yank them down immediately, but Steven stopped you just when you wanted to pull them down. “Easy there, tigress. I told you to get on your knees and nothing more. Didn't I tell you, you should be a good girl today?”, he asked you as he looked down at you. The position made who was in charge here painfully clear and so you gulped lightly, your hands on your lap now as you nodded.

“Sorry”, you hummed quietly, but Steven had nothing of that. He grabbed your jaw and made you look up at him again, his eyes sharp.

“Proper sentences, love. Might as well use them for as long as you can.”, he said, the grin on his lips more then audible. His dark promise made you gulp once again and your pussy throb, your eyes focused on his, as you opened your mouth:

“I am sorry, Steven. That won't happen again.”

He nodded at your words, before letting go of your jaw as his eyes were still on you.

“Now get my cock out and get it nice and wet, yeah?”

You didn't need to hear that twice as you straightened your back and opened his pants, reaching right into his underwear to pull his cock out. You almost moaned at the sight of it, your mouth salivating as you put it into your mouth.

Steven's reaction was immediate, there was a loud sigh leaving his mouth as he lightly bit down on his lip.

“God fuckin' finally, 's been too long love”, he muttered darkly, his eyes focused on you as you licked over his tip, your hands working on the rest of his cock.

You did your best to please him, stroking him the way you knew he loved it and sucking right underneath the tip of his cock – knowing that it would drive him insane. You were so sure he was far gone already, his head tossed back and his adam's apple bobbing up and down all quickly.

But when you looked up, you were only met with his dark and lust-filled eyes, you were genuinely surprised. You thought he was already losing himself, but no he hasn't even budged a little bit. But that didn't dampen your spirits, quite the opposite, you instantly sat up a bit more and took a deep breath through your nose.

As if Steven was able to feel what you were about to do, he raised his eyebrow at you, the corner of his mouth lightly twitching up as he tilted his head to the side.

“Oh?”, he hummed, as you looked deeply into his eyes and put your hands on his meaty thighs, squeezing them softly, before starting to swallow his cock fully, making you gag and your eyes sting with tears.

The moan that ripped from Steven was loud and genuine, his head tilting back for a moment as your nose hit his pelvis. His hair tickled your nose for a moment, but you didn't mind, you held your position as you never looked away from his face, loving how his cheeks finally dusted in a slight red.

“Fuck, you're swallowing my cock like a little slut”, he suddenly hissed loudly, which made you almost gasp, your throat tightening around his length as you looked up at him wide-eyed. Usually Steven never called you names, he only ever praised you, calling you his goddess and his good little girl. But this, this was new from him. The dirty words paired with his British accent almost sent you to overdrive.

Steven licked his lips when he felt how you reacted to his words, his eyebrows raising. “Oh, do you like to be called my little slut?”, he asked you, a taunting lilt to his voice, his eyes twinkling dangerously. “Of course you do. Look at yourself, taking my cock so deep down your throat that you gag and cry”, he continued with his crude words. “But this, this isn't a proper reason to cry yet”, he hummed deeply as he put his hand on your cheek, keeping you from pulling away.

“Remember, three hard pinches on my thighs if you need to tap out”, he reminded you, a sliver of the Steven you knew shining through, but when you nodded at him, it was gone as quickly as it came, his eyes darkening again.

“I want you to take what I am giving to you now without any complaints”, he suddenly said before he leaned forward, making your back meet the end of the bed, your neck on the mattress now. You had a premonition for what was about to come and when he put his foot on the edge of the bed, next to your head, you were sure that he wanted to do what you thought he'd do.

“Im going to fuck that pretty little face of yours now.”, he smirked, his voice all deep and lust-filled. He felt like he was on a high, the way he was able to dominate and overpower you so easily made him feel absolutely euphoric. He looked down at you for one last time to catch you nod for a moment and then he started to move.

When he said he was about to fuck your face, he really meant it. The way his hips snapped into your mouth was ruthless, his moans loud and unabashed. His balls met your chin over and over again, his smell was surrounding you like a thick layer that was slowly coaxing you to lose yourself.

All you could breathe, taste, smell and see was him, rendering you motionless – only able to take what he gave you over and over again. The way he was fucking your face shouldn't have turned you on the way you did, but you couldn't help yourself, all of Steven turned you on in this moment, even if he was a little mean to you.

So without being able to fight it, you put one of your hands between your legs, trying to ease the ache between your legs while the other hand held onto his thigh.

“Bloody hell this is absolutely fantastic!”, he groaned, his eyes rolling back as the sounds of your mouth doubled his arousal, “Your throat was made for fucking, even if you're gagging like that, you're still taking it, taking all of my thick cock”, he hummed all pleased, his eyebrows furrowed as he got lost in the pleasure that your hot throat provided, your tears running down your face without a break.

It didn't take long for you to struggle with your breathing, your eyes rolling back as the lack of oxygen slowly got to your head, making you feel light-headed, even your fingers on your cunt stopping to move and just when you thought you'd faint, you were suddenly pulled back.

Steven's hand was around your throat as he pressed you into the mattress, his cock right in front of your face, your nose touching it. He panted, his face red and covered in sweat, one droplet of it running down his neck.

“My my, little one, who said you could just tap out like that?”, he mocked you, his voice a little hoarse as he sounded slightly out of it and you were the cause of it. It made you smile all dazedly, your tear-filled eyes meeting his. “Could never”, you croaked out, another tear falling down your cheek which he caught with his thumb, wiping it away almost lovingly.

“Mhhm, you're right. I'm not done with you yet either.”, he smirked, suddenly grabbing your body and pulling you up only to hoist you back on the bed.

You had to regain your composure as you turned around because what you saw almost made you salivate yet again.

There he was, looking absolutely fucked out, with his damp hair slicked out of his face. But something annoyed you – he was still fully clothed.

“Steven”, you whined, your lips all red and swollen from him fucking your mouth, “Please, your clothes”, you continued, your gaze meeting his, “Please take them off, I wanna see you so badly”

Your words made Steven smile, all drunk in pleasure as he slowly put his hands on the hem of his shirt, taking it off of his body, revealing his muscled torso and the delicious happy trail that lead to his cock. He didn't say anything as he took his pants and underwear off as well. You could tell that he let off some steam by him fucking your throat that roughly. It eased you, as it loosened the tension a bit.

“Happy now?”, he asked you and you nodded all eagerly, already getting on your knees to get to the edge of the bed to maybe be able to touch him. But he beat you to it, coming closer and allowing you to touch him, your hands running over his pecs, down to his happy trail that you loved so much.

“Missed you so much Steven”, you breathed out shakily, leaning to his chest to press a kiss there, “So fucking much”, you added and suddenly you could feel both of his hands on your cheeks to pull you up and kiss you deeply.

“I missed you to bits as well, my dear”, he hummed against your lips, “But I missed fucking your cunt as well”, he added cheekily, biting down on your bottom lip before tossing you on the bed again, turning you around and grabbing you by the back of your knees to pull you on your knees.

“And now I am going to take what I wanted for so long”, he grumbled, not noticing how he aligned you to the mirror, a devious smile on his lips.

“Yes please, take me.”, you mewled, lightly swaying your hips from left to right. His calloused hands followed the line of your thighs, up to your hips to grab your panties and rip them off of your body. You could only gasp, but the action was long forgotten as he spanked your ass once.

He spread your cheeks, leaning down to watch your pussy which was absolutely ruined by your arousal. It spread so much that even the inner of your thighs were wet.

“Fuck, love,”, he groaned, “Did me fucking your face turn you on that much?”, he asked you, slapping your core once, making you whine loudly.

“You look like you wetted yourself”, he noted, a devilish chuckle leaving his mouth.

“Still gotta prepare that hole of yours, otherwise Imma rip it”, he hummed deep in thought, pushing two of his fingers inside of you without even thinking twice. You gasped loudly, gripping the sheets tightly as you moved your hips in sync with the motion of his fingers.

“Feels so good Steven, mhh, please”, you moaned loudly, your cheeks getting all warm already. He didn't wait long to scissor his fingers inside of you as he got impatient himself, just wanting to finally be buried inside of you, so without further ado, he added a third finger.

When he deemed you stretched out enough, he pulled his fingers out of your cunt, slapping your hole once and smirking at it and the sound it made as well.

“Absolutely perfect”, he complimented you, before spreading your arousal all over his cock. He pumped himself once, twice and then he stopped as an idea came to his mind.

It was quiet suddenly and for a moment you thought there was something wrong, so you looked over your shoulder, your eyes furrowed in worry. But when you saw Stevens heavy-lidded gaze, you gulped a bit.

“'s your safe day, innit?”, he asked you, the words slurred and you knew exactly why. It was one of Stevens favorites. Creampies.

“Hmm, yeah, I am. Just put it in, please”, you hummed, arching your back so your pussy was even more bared to him.

“Fuck me”, he growled underneath his breath, aligning his cock to your entrance, slapping it once before he pushed into you in one swift motion.

It made both of you moan in unison, both of your eyes rolling back at the familiar feeling of his cock inside of you and your pussy around him.

“Fuck”, you moaned, holding onto your sheets tightly as Steven went at it at an alarming pace. He didn't waste any time, it was obvious that he missed the tight grip of your pussy as he was fucking into you like a mad man.

This was something you definitely weren't used to, especially from Steven. He usually made love to you, took you gently and tenderly. But nothing about his thrusts was gentle or tender this time. They were ruthless and unforgiving, not giving you any time to cope as he grabbed your hips harshly, pressing you all close to his pelvis whenever he pushed his cock into you.

It felt like he was using you as his little cock sleeve, chasing after his own high and pleasure and somehow, that wasn't a problem to you. It actually made you feel on fire, the way he was so into you and crazy for you that he couldn't even hold back anymore and just took what he wanted.

As his thrusts were so rough, you almost saw stars when he finally angled himself so he was able to hit that delicious spot inside of you. The scream you let out was shattering and you were sure that the neighbours would file a complaint against the two of you.

But you couldn't care, not right now, not when he was fucking you like there was no tomorrow.

“Yes! Fuck, Steven, just- right- right there!”, you stuttered loudly, your eyes rolling back as you pulled a loud laugh from the man behind you.

“Right there my puppet?”, he growled lowly and you nodded, his hand hitting your behind once more, making you gasp out loud. The whole bed moved with his movements, your temperatures increasing more and more.

Suddenly you could feel how he grabbed the back of your head by your hair, pulling you back and revealing your face to the mirror that was in front of you.

“Fuck, look at her, she's such a whore”, he grunted deeply, “Looking absolutely fucked out while taking my cock”, he grinned widely and wouldn't you feel like your brain was being fucked out, you would have noticed the way he wasn't talking to you.

He was talking to Marc and Jake, who where watching the two of you going at it like animals, both of them absolutely speechless.

“Now I finally get why you're so adamant on treating her so roughly, fuck, she absolutely loves it!”, he declared all delighted, his eyes twinkling before he let go of your hair, letting you crumble down like a house of cards. If it wasn't for the grip of Steven's hands on your hips, his cock would have slipped out, but of course, he couldn't let that happen.

“I am able to fuck you so good too, right, my love?”, he asked you, his voice heated and you could only nod, chanting “Yes yes yes, you can!”, without being able to think of any other answer.

It was satisfying enough for him to make clear to the both of them that he was able to fuck your brains out just like the two were able to.

While he fucked into you, he looked down at your cheeks, loving how they moved with every thrust of his and suddenly, he got an idea.

He knew you enjoyed your asshole being played with, since the day he rimmed you once and you almost came immediately.

“Spread your cheeks for me”, Steven suddenly demanded from you. Your hands instantly flew to your cheeks, grabbing them and spreading them apart to show him your rimmed hole.

Steven couldn't help but smirk, slowly licking his lips before gathering all of his saliva to spit it right on your rimmed hole. You moaned softly, your ass wiggling in anticipation.

He took one of his hands from your hips, licking over his middle finger before putting it on your puckered hole, circling it and causing you to scream almost.

“Oh my god fuck, fuck Steven!”, you cried out loudly, feeling your orgasm approach immediately.

He could tell by the way your walls tightened around him, squeezing his cock tightly, causing his high to come as well.

“Yes, just like that, squeeze my cock”, he grunted deeply as he still fucked into you, feeling how his balls tightened as he was about to cum, but not before you came.

So he slowly slipped the tip of his middle finger into your asshole, that paired with his cock hitting your g-spot over and over again, made you fly face first into one of the most body numbing orgasms you ever felt in your life. Your vision turned white as you screamed out his name, your cunt still being used by his cock as he rode out your orgasm.

Suddenly he took his hand away from your abused hole, grabbing your hips tightly to give you a few more harsh thrusts, before spilling all for what he was worth inside of you. With a loud and dark moan he filled your insides absolutely white, leaning over you and kissing your shoulder, while still being deeply nestled inside of you.

The both of you were out of breath, panting and trying to regain your power as Steven pulled out of you and rolled beside you, laying on his back now while you were still on your stomach.

It was quiet between the two of you, but to your surprise, it wasn't uncomfortable. You finally understood why he was acting like that and just now you realized that he talked to Marc and Jake when he took you from behind.

There was a tension coming off from Steven, even though there was no trace of his anger anymore, but you could only assume that it was because of his behavior. But you wanted him to know that there was nothing to feel bad for, so you tried to inch closer to him to kiss his lips.

“I love you, Steven”, you whispered against his lips, causing him to bite down on his own for a moment.

“Wasn't I too rough?”, he asked you now, a tiny hint of insecurity in his voice.

“Not at all”, you immediately gave back, “You can't ever be too rough on me, Steven. You know I love all of you, even your mad side”, you assured him, “Besides, I doubt I ever came this hard in my life, so please, don't worry about it.”

That made Steven cackle lightly, his eyes twinkling mischieviously.

“Thank god, because I doubt that I can go a long time without fucking you like this.”, he told you now, before getting up and curling his arms around your body to hoist you up.

“But now you'll take a loo, we'll shower together and then we'll get comfortable with some snacks, yeah?”

“I'd love that a lot, Steven.”

#moon knight #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockley x reader #smut #steven grant smut #marc spector smut #jake lockley smut #oscar isaac

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catiuskaa · 10 months

Text

My Atlantis [don’t go]

inspired by the songs “atlantis” by Seafret and “can I call you tonight?” by Dayglow.

because the combination chan + second chance + angsty prompts AND my recent ability to fall asleep only past 3am triggered something I didn't know I had in me, lol (I swear I am ok LMAOO)

word count: 3.9k

angst, second chance, good ending.

No matter how many times he had asked himself the past month, he never could come up with a reason for it.

“Chan, you ok?” Seungmin inquired, popping his head through the door. The eldest snapped out of his zoned-out state and smiled, starting to tease the younger in a sing-song voice.

“Aw, Seungminnie, you’re so cute!”

Since the comeback, the members had all been busy, and it was known by the other seven that despite the lack of sleep and rest, the many concerts and shows. If there was one of them that would never say anything about how fucked up he felt, it was Chan.

Chan wouldn’t complain about anything. He’d rather stay hidden, quiet, hoping to merge with the furniture in his room so he wouldn’t feel so tired anymore.

It wasn’t new for the others, and Chris always felt a speck of guilt trail up his spine when any of them came by his room, only to find him sunken in his computer, his headphones blasting music so loudly that there was no hope of calling for the Australian unless you poked him —or in Minho’s case, throwing anything remotely close to the target, like his slipper, usually passed the level— Chan would go into off mode.

What they didn’t know, however, is why. Because usually, he was just tired, but nowadays, there is another reason.

He often trailed off conversations, zoning out. He had always been like that, often related to his insomnia.

Only one member knew the existence of the other new reason.

You.

“Hey, I made brownies!” Felix shined, entering his fellow bandmate’s room.

Lix watched Chan munch on his baked goods for what felt like a lifetime.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said, the corners of his mouth full of crumbs, like his bed.

“I didn’t say anything.”

Chan tsked, smiling weakly. He had fallen for it. “Never fucking mind. Can I get a hug?”

Felix held back his tears, approaching the elder in a tight embrace. Chan’s strong facade crumbled.

“You should go see her, Chan. I don’t care what you have to say about it, but whatever happened is breaking you apart. It’s been so long, anyways.”

Chan laughed, even though he sighed slightly heavier than usual, with a teary grin on his features.

“I still fucked up, mate, whether it’s one week or one year. I fucked up bad.” He stopped and swallowed dry, quickly brushing away the tears that threatened to fall. “I can’t just show up at her place.”

The younger brushed away a stray tear that ran down his cheek. “You either go there or let it eat you from the inside,” Felix spoke carefully. “And I won’t give you the second choice. If you don’t go with her, I’ll make the call. That is your choice.”

Even if he found himself walking to your apartment, unconsciously, he still couldn’t give an answer to the question that kept bugging his mind.

He listened to the sound the birds made despite it being so late. He moved slowly, almost wandering, until the door to your home surprised him. He felt a shiver run up and down his spine. You weren’t exactly on speaking terms.

God, he was so scared. What was he doing?

He cursed under his breath, cussing himself out, his stupidness, his acts. He started crying without realising.

What else, if not him being an idiot, would explain why he had lost you?

“Chris?”

No one except you said his name in a way that felt so different, so special.

“…Is everything ok?”

He turned around to face you. He felt the tears run down his cheeks, ending on his lips, tasting the salty drops.

“Darling…” He mentioned, his tone anxious, his breathing erratic.

He woke up in a cold sweat. Again, the dream kept repeating, with that detail that always hurt him like the first time. He couldn’t approach you, or he’d wake up, yet he still tried, walking towards you just to open his eyes to face his room’s ceiling.

That was why he couldn’t sleep.

He felt like he deserved it, so he didn’t say anything and decided to put up a fake smile, hoping that one day he’d wake up, either having hugged you or not having that same dream again.

He fell again for you, more profound than he thought possible, and he knew it because just the thought of you pulling him into an embrace felt even better than all the kisses you two had shared. And then it hit him, the answer to his question, one he suddenly despised more than anything.

Why did he let you go?

At first, it was an easy answer. He couldn’t save you from himself, from what surrounded him. He could never take back the things he had said that dreadful night a month ago, when he had lied to you just because he was afraid, afraid of love, terrified of the feelings he had developed for you, and so, so scared that you would get hurt because of him. It wasn’t fair for you, even if he meant entirely the opposite and had just realised how deeply he had fallen for you.

Because in a twist of events, his mind, his days, his songs, everything screamed your name, like a chant you wouldn’t- you couldn’t forget.

“I’m so fucking stupid,” he cried, clinging to his pillow.

Changbin stared wide-eyed at Felix, both able to hear what was happening behind the door between them.

“You call her, or do I?” Bin sighed.

Felix’s eyes almost snapped out of place.

“Since when do you-?”

“C’mon, everyone here knows. He’s so fucking obvious, sighing all day long. It’s going to make him age faster.” Changbin somewhat mocked in a solemn tone. “So?” He shook his phone sideways.

“S’fine. I’m on it.”

Changbin then entered the room, startling Chan, who, after seeing the troublesome look in his friend’s eyes, quickly approached him, leaning on the crook of his neck. The rapper patted his back.

“Why does it ache so much?” Chan questioned weakly, feeling stupid. “I know the fucking dream by heart. How often do I have to see it again until it doesn’t hurt?”

“Because you care, Chan. It’ll hurt.”

“For how long?” He sounded in so much pain.

At this, Changbin sighed sadly.

“As long as you love her.”

[☆ ☆ ✧ ☆ ☆]

When Chris went to open the door days later, he expected anyone behind it. Maybe it was Felix with more brownies, perhaps Changbin wanted to force him out of bed to go to the gym, or Jeongin needed his computer password again.

What he didn’t expect, however, was your figure on the other side, looking even prettier than any of the dreams he had about you.

You took a deep breath, but before you could say anything, he slammed the door, closing it. You could hear him leaning on it, sliding to the floor.

“Fuck, angel,” you cursed.

Angel. The nickname felt like a punch in the face, but he couldn’t help but want another one.

Instead of leaving, you leaned on the door, technically back to back if it weren’t for the wooden structure.

“Felix called me,” you started carefully, head directed towards the door. “Wanna talk about why? He didn’t say.”

Chan remained silent, feeling troubled because, on one side, seeing you could be his downfall, still fuck did he want to let go so much.

But he couldn’t. He had said it himself, year after year, hearing it too many times so that he had it tattoed on his mind. Why were you still behind that door?

Your sad laugh broke him into even more pieces.

“I fell in love, Chan,” you started, staring at the ceiling. “I fell in love with a man so selfless who would die for his loved ones, a man so integrally beautiful that he had no reason to hide his scars because even his battles were gorgeous.” You quickly rubbed your eyes, feeling them itchy as you held back tears. “And I didn’t do it knowing that it would be hard. I just...”

The corridor remained silent as much as the door stayed locked, the man behind it feeling like a small child who needed a big hug.

You gasped for air, your chest tightening, for your need to crumble, cry, and fall.

“Even if I didn’t know back then the crazy fans I’d have to face, or any of Dispatch’s cameramen, I…” Your tearful smile fainted a bit, your features as serious as you were about your feelings.

“I promised myself that if I was right, and you loved me as much as I know I love you, I’d fight for you.”

You unknowingly cried with him, knowing that no one, not even him, could save you from falling as intensely as possible and even more.

He had tried to protect you, save you, keeping you at a safe distance because he didn’t want to hurt you, but God, did it hurt being away from you. He was missing you, even when you were right by his side.

“I believe I did my fucking best, angel. I know you have feelings that make you think you’re the one to blame for what happened, and that makes you just want to give up, and I get it, Chan. That’s not your fault. But when I got hurt because of the accident, it wasn’t your fault either,” you sniffed, looking at the bandage that still covered your forearm, the ankle support you were wearing also crossed your mind.

“Why… why don’t you let me love you?”

You waited patiently, turning so silently that you could swear you heard his unsteady breathing.

“…you said it.”

Your heart skipped a beat when you heard his voice toned down as if he was hiding his face in between his legs.

“I said it wasn’t easy, angel, but that doesn’t mean that I am not willing to try. Don’t think for a second that means I’m giving up on you.”

You sighed, looking at the cloudy day through the window before you.

“Even knowing what I know now, I’d do it again, my angel.”

The silence threatened to break your heart, but you chose to keep fighting against it. You weren’t going to give up. Not yet.

You could still fight for him. Yeah. You could.

“I’m going to leave my sweater here.” You mentioned in a low tone of voice, your features showed calm before the storm. “After I leave, I’ll call and ask for it, and you’ll say that you can stop by my place tomorrow.”

He looked behind him as if he could see through the door. A small and sad smile was planted on his features as he couldn’t help but think your ideas were still as cute as he remembered them. You rose from the door with a grunt, your eyes red and teary, glued to the floor.

“You were always worth every fucking ounce of my effort, Chris, don’t you ever forget that.”

In a sudden motion, you turned to face the door, startling him when you aggressively grabbed the doorknob, making it tremble, even though you never opened it.

“If… if you choose to just keep the sweater and call it a day,” you gasped, tears running down your cheeks silently. “I need you to know that I never believed what you said that night and… that I love you, angel.”

[☆ ☆ ✧ ☆ ☆]

That night. The night.

The night where he had fucked up so badly.

His mind was a fucking mess, thoughts of you reeling in every minute. Your voice through the door, through the phone when you called asking for your oversized sweater —the same one he was wearing at the moment—.

The memory replayed itself, like how those we want to forget but keep haunting you, coming back.

A month ago, he had gotten a call from the hospital and had 100% freaked out. You mentioned you were fine, that it had just been an accident, but the man decided to rush to you regardless.

“Chris?” You noticed him tense up when you saw him enter your hospital room, his expression clouded with worry.

“Darling, what...? W-what happened?” His lips trembled, eyes wandering to the cast on your left leg and the bandage that trailed your right forearm.

“You should’ve seen the others,” you teased but sighed. “I need you to sit and calm down for a second, love,” you started.

The nickname made him hold back shivers because deep down he knew that if you didn’t call him ‘angel’ it was because something was wrong. He sat on the closest chair he could pick, moving it as if it weighed nothing, and turned to face you as fast as he could.

“I was surrounded by some sasaengs and cameramen. I’ve been for the past week. I never mentioned it to you because there’s no damn way you can do anything about it, and I don’t want to get between you and your job. It’s not my world, and besides, I can tolerate pictures or getting recognized, but, this time...” You took his hand into yours, his glare dull and worried, but you weren’t planning to lie to him after this, so you continued. “The cameramen surrounded me, and that attracted a group of girls. One of them threw coffee at me. Others felt brave enough to start screaming at me, explaining why my relationship was fake and that Chan, well, you, didn’t really love me.” You let out a snicker, but the smile didn’t reach your eyes.

Chris’ mind was working at full speed, immediately blaming himself for not knowing, for not noticing, for not doing anything else rather than what the company told him to do when netizens found out about your existence.

Deny, deny and deny. He lied his way through, but as the events were showing, it wasn’t enough. It was never enough.

He wasn’t enough.

You stroked his face lightly, waking him up.

“I’m okay, angel. I just happened to trip and fall in the wrong place and at the wrong time, and they didn’t care too much about me.” You smiled, sparing him the tale about how the girls started hitting you and throwing stuff at you, the cameramen stepping on you, either accidentally or on purpose. Chan’s eyes got teary when your smile didn’t reach your eyes.

You were in pain, in a hospital, just because of him? That felt… wrong. He loved you, so, so much. He needed to protect you, not just ignore the problem until it solved itself, even if he never knew what was happening in the first place. Guilt started spreading inside him, his chest tightening and his breathing speeding up in anxiety.

And that’s when he started thinking about the alleged master key that would end up being his fatal flaw.

That same night the doctors allowed you to go back home and told you to be careful and to take care of yourself. Chan had helped you, letting you use him for extra support on your way up to your apartment.

You melted on the sofa once you arrived, but you felt it in the tension that kept buzzing around you and your restless lover. You hesitated for a moment, but you could notice something was bugging him.

“Chan?”

He stopped in his tracks, but weirdly, he never turned to face you.

“…Is everything ok?”

You saw his posture tensing, turning to something bewilderingly defensive.

“No. Nothing is.” He breathed slowly, his insides trembling, his heart screaming in his head, telling him to stop talking.

You pouted, confused. “What are you-?”

“Can’t you see it?” His tone was aggressive.

Shut up.

“This isn’t going to work.” His posture was uneasy, he still didn’t- couldn’t look at you.

Shut up.

“Whatever we had isn’t worth this shit.”

God, Christopher, shut the fuck up.

Your lips trembled. ‘Whatever we had’? Shit. You felt sore, and you still smelled the coffee that girl had thrown at you. No. It wasn’t possible.

“I don’t believe you.”

Chan’s chest ached.

“Well, this is what’s happening. Believe it or not.” He turned restless again, still not daring to look at you, picking up the few things he had left in your apartment the past months. His hands trembled, his facade struggling to remain believable.

“Chan, wait.”

He quivered.

“Let’s talk about this. What’s wrong?”

“Everything is!”

“There’s no reason for us to end.”

He scoffed, his throat almost hurting.

“You’re clearly blind.”

“Did I do something wrong? We were fine yesterday. We’re ok, we-”

His hand gripped the doorknob as if it was going to wake him up from this nightmare. But this was real life, and he had to do it. For you.

Because that made sense.

What a fucking idiot.

“We’re far from ok.”

“Chan, please-“

“Nothing you can say will make me stay.” He said almost in a whisper, afraid that his voice would crack if he spoke too loudly.

Despite the advice you had received from the doctors, you lightly skipped your way to him, placing a hand on his forearm, your lips close to his ears. His breath hitched, and even if it was because that small contact was breaking him to pieces, you weren’t going to know anytime soon.

He had to leave now. Before the regret turned stronger.

“Chan.” You swallowed hard, your heart shattering to pieces. “If I can’t make you stay… just know I won’t leave. You know where I’ll be.” You stared at your hand as you slowly let go of him. You wanted to hug him, beg him to stay so bad. You wished to wake up from this nightmare soon.

Instead, you did what you thought was right.

“You have the choice, angel. Just… don’t be too late.”

God, he regretted every single part of it.

[☆ ☆ ✧ ☆ ☆]

“Chan, what the fuck.”

Felix felt that sort of anger you could only achieve when being an empath. The ability to feel and comprehend his mate’s feelings allowed him to feel twice the anger when he wouldn’t just choose what was right from what was slightly easier.

“Hey, we said no judgement.” He sniffed, half of his face buried below the neck of your sweater.

It smelled like you.

Felix wanted to hit him. In the face. With a brick. Instead, he contented himself with one of Chris’ pillows.

“You.” hit “are.” hit “so.” hit “stupid!”

“Well, that shit ain’t new.” He mumbled, snatching the pillow away and laying on it.

“You are unbearable.” Lix hissed, much like a kitten would. “Go back to her once and for all, for fuck’s sake. I’m sure she’s been waiting for you all day.”

“I can’t.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“I’m not ready to fight it.”

“I don’t think you have a chance, at this point.”

“It’s whatever, Lix.”

“SHE- Ugh.” The rage the blonde was feeling felt surreal, his hands aggressively pulling his hair. “She came here to give you an ultimatum, Chan! You absolute buffoon, she’ll think you don’t love her!”

“That’s not-!”

“Then why are you not leaving?!”

“Maybe that’s what’s best for her?!”

“Oh, so now it’s about her?!”

“IT’S ALWAYS BEEN!”

“SO LET HER CHOOSE!”

Silence filled up the room.

“Let her choose if she wants you or not.”

“And let her end up injured again?”

Felix took a deep breath, trying to calm down —and failing—.

“We both know that those kinds of accidents are not that likely to happen.”

“But it did-“

“Shut up.” Felix’s stare could kill any living being within a 3-meter radius. “The 3-year dating ban is over. You can talk to the fans and to JYP about this shit.”

“Still-“

“Nuh-uh. You can make it work, this ain’t some Romeo and Juliet impossible love bullshit or whatever the fuck you’re thinking.” Felix got closer to Chan, his stance still confrontational.

“Never, ever use the ‘I’m doing it for her’ excuse again. Life isn’t some fucked up song where you let go people because you love them, Chris.”

Before he stormed out of the elder’s room, he threw clean clothes at him.

“Get your shit together, go get her, and I’ll think about making more brownies for you, you absolute fucking dummy.”

[☆ ☆ ✧ ☆ ☆]

The door in front of him looked exactly the same as how he had left it. The bell sounded the same.

But you, you looked different.

Maybe it was because he felt so touch-starved that you kept glowing around him. You looked ethereal, so much that he was scared to touch you, scared that he’d wake up in his bed again.

“Does this mean you’re keeping it?”

He stared down. He was still wearing your sweater.

You smiled slightly. “It looks better on you anyways.”

He entered your apartment, and you stood behind him.

“Is there anything you’d like to say before?”

He turned around at you, your heart racing.

“Before what?”

“Before I choose to do something else instead of talking things first,” you mentioned, your gaze moving from his eyes and his lips.

He gulped, seeing you getting closer and closer.

“I…”

You took his arms and settled them on your waist, locking yours behind his neck.

“If we’re going to argue, we’re going to do it like this,” you said in a whisper. The light smell of his cologne surrounded you faster than you expected, and you loved it.

His eyes grew big in surprise. Quickly, his hands tightened his grip on your waist, moving them to your face in a sudden action.

“You’re… here.”

The weak tone he used made your insides churn.

“Chan…”

“Mmhm?”

Your hands travelled to his chest, slightly creating distance.

“Please stop before I kiss you,” you whispered. “If I do, I don’t think I could-“

He gave you a small peck, interrupting you. He giggled softly as your expression turned into a surprised one.

He hid his face in the crook of your neck, his breath tickling you.

“You look so pretty right now.”

You gasped, hearing his laugh.

“Don’t change the subject, mister!”

You both stood there, hugging each other, feeling like the nightmare was finally over. But Chan still had something to do.

“You don’t deserve what I put you through.”

Your hands caressed his back.

“That’s the excuse?”

“In my defence…”

“I’m listening.”

Chan dived even deeper in the crook of your neck, feeling content just by being in your arms.

“I forgot the excuse. I’m just sorry. I can’t even say it without feeling like a dick. I know it doesn’t make up for what I said or did. I couldn’t even look at you that day because I just wanted to stay with you, but I felt so bad. I love you so much I can’t stand it. I thought that maybe if I left… maybe I could save you.” His embrace tightened.

God, he missed you so much.

“I wasn't sure how much longer I could have taken this..." he said in a huff.

“I know I couldn’t, and your stupid ass wouldn’t do anything about it.”

He took your face in between his hands, his eyes red.

“I told you there was no reason for us to end, dipshit.” You whispered, laughing as you kept on crying, your hands travelling up to his. “We’ll make it work.”

He stroked your hair with one hand, sighing.

“I’m so happy you’re here.”

You couldn’t help but let out a smile, giving him another peck.

“…of course I’m here, idiot. I never left.”

~Kats, who you’ll most likely never see reading angst bc she’s a weak loser, yet here she is, stopping mid-writing cause she couldn’t see past her tears 🕳️👩‍🦯

ps: i wanted to mention @writer-in-the-dark-prompts bc i used some prompts from them and i think it’s a really cool blog!

#stray kids x reader #angst #stray kids angst #skz imagines #stray kids imagine #stray kids fanfic #bang chan #skz bang chan #chris bang #stray kids scenarios #skz #stray kids #stray kids felix #bangchan x reader #bangchan x you #skz scenarios #skz stray kids

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slavghoul · 1 year

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Interview from Classic Rock Magazine #309

What stands out in your memories of 2022?

TF: Going back to touring was a fantastic feeling! In the beginning it felt almost unreal; still with a bit of restriction, which was kind of unintuitive, but the last tour we did, in August/September, was as good as normal. We released the record when we said we would, we managed to back it up with seventy shows. We cancelled one show in total. That's a good result.

Impera has dark, historically rooted themes, but it's also music that makes the listener feel so many things - joy, aggression, excitement, sorrow... After such a turbulent couple of years there's something cathartic about that.

I am very happy about how the record came out, and that it seems to be well-received among our fans. That's a tremendous feeling. I feel like I managed to do a lot of things I set out to do. We're gonna continue next year, we still have a lot of things to do. But right now we're just recharging a little.

Kaisarion has been a hit live. For a song about the brutal murder of a female Roman philosopher, it really gets the party going.

Yeah, I'm still surprised that with a song that does what it does - and was so well received and opened up the shows - there's never been talk about turning it into a single. Which I don't understand. But at the end of the day it's a label decision, and people around that decide which ones will, quote-unquote, 'work best'. And I've realised that I'm not really capable of choosing. I remember Mary On A Cross was a B-side.

It's weird how that happens with some songs.

Yeah, I must say I feel very optimistic with regards to how that song is taking a life on its own. Even though it was technically a B-side on a fun additional thing [2019's Seven Inches Of Satanic Panic] - it was not our main single from a new album we have always played it ever since it came out, on every show. Maybe a few exceptions, but I've always pushed that song as something that I felt very good about.

On that subject, you're viral on TikTok now. What is it about that platform that appeals?

I hardly knew what it was until two months ago! I have two almost fourteen-year-old kids, so of course I'd heard the phenomenon mentioned. It's an insanely big thing among kids and teenagers. What happens is they create these short snippets, funny, sad or emotional clips, to which they often tag some sort of music or sound. And if you are a creator of sound or music, you might be tagged on to a clip that might go 'viral'. That way you hit a lot more people that you might never entertain, you know, aiming your guns at. So it's a bit of a crap-shoot as well. We are not a big mainstream act, so obviously there's going to be a mixed bag of reactions. Because people in general are kind of strange to a lot of these aesthetics of rock, and especially the darker aspects of it.

It has brought the band more attention.

But if all that attention is a good or a bad thing, we do not know yet. There have been people who might have come on to the track, and as soon as they see what the band is about - or what they perceive the band to be about - there's backlash, because it's like: "Oh my, God fearing hater!" "I don't like it!" "This is communist bullshit!" So there are two sides of the coin. But it's a great bonus if we can get new people, especially kids, into liking rock music or other things, or if it makes them feel in any way better-informed, if you will.

Do you think TikTok will be a bigger deal for musicians in the future?

I don't know. I think when you're a musician, and you're making records, you need to have a certain strategic mind. But your job at the end of the day is making records and playing live. That is the heart of the matter. If you sit around waiting for a viral thing to happen, you can wait a long fucking time.

Back in May, the identities of the Nameless Ghouls were confirmed on social media. How do you feel about them not being strictly nameless any more?

Well, they haven't really been for quite some time. So for me it was not an overnight sensation. As long as it doesn't in any way interfere with what we are doing, there's no desire that I have for people not to feel proud or happy about what they're doing.

You've lamented not being able to play more guitar. If you could be the guitarist for a day in any band, which would it be?

Good question. There's several bands. I would have loved to be what Mick Taylor was in 1969, coming into the Rolling Stones at their best era - but I would have stayed around! That would have been a great experience. Very fun music to play. Definitely within the limits of what I can play really well. I spent a lot of time as a kid learning how to play guitar. Otherwise I would love to play in the Red Hot Chilli Peppers; I love what John Frusciante does. Def Leppard might be a good fit too. Joe Elliott spoke very highly of Impera when it came out. That would have also been really cool. Also a fantastic band. In an alternative reality, in an alternative life, I would have wanted to do a lot of other things. But I did hear that [Joe said those things], and it was very heartwarming, of course. A very big honour.

#the band ghost #tobias forge #interview

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sunnywalnut · 7 days

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I fully believe that the only thing that stopped me from identifying as trans when I was younger was the fact of my autistic black and white thinking.

Well yeah. That guy is trans. And I think he's super cool. But I couldn't be trans despite the fact that I feel more like myself with him because he embodies everything I wish I could be but stop myself from being.

Oh no I absolutely could not be transgender at all! I didn't know I was a dude since I was three like all these other people who were taught the concept of gender and the fact that gay people exist from a young age and I only learned lesbians existed after I was ten years old.

Of course that person is transgender. The whole reason I changed the name on the sticky note set on their desk was because they're my friend and I'm an ally. Totally not because I want somebody to do the same for me.

Nah bro. I don't think my obsession with gender neutral names and wanting to change my name to Alex because it was the only gn name I knew at the time had any transgender reasons for it. I'm just super attached to the idea of accidentally being mistaken for a boy. Even if it's just by name.

The reason I specifically searched for books with male protagonists my age when I was younger was totally because of super straight reasons and not because I identified with them more than any of the female leads, despite being extremely similar to a lot of them.

Oh totally I'm not jealous of my brother who's only one year older than me, therefore I get to see him embody all these manly traits like getting a cool low voice and be taught things that I wish I could learn but I wasn't explicitly invited so I stay where I was.

What do you mean it's not normal to treasure the blue Finding Nemo basketball cap that I sneered at on Christmas Day for "looking too boyish" and wearing it inside the house while I crawled up on my grandfather's lap so he could read to me.

Of course my best friend of over seven years is my sister! Despite the fact that I feel completely uncomfortable when she claims that I am hers. Not because we're not family. Because something is wrong with the word "sister" and I can't tell what.

I mean shit. The only reason I realized that I could've been queer was bc somebody told me that if I(a "straight girl") liked a trans guy, then I would be pansexual.

Untrue, obviously, since trans guys are still guys, and my little 13yo brain thought the same way, but the fact that somebody said it so casually just opened the floodgates of "what ifs" for me.

And you know what?

The year after that, I came out publicly as bi. Then ace. Then two years after that gender fluid. Then in the same year, transmasc. Then lesbian a couple months later. Then transmasc but not lesbian after a couple weeks because my partner was also genderfluid. And now? Transmasc/trans man and bi, specifically for the girls and gnc folks.

Had that person not told me I was pansexual, I'm pretty sure I would've just gone around being indifferent to my romantic partners thinking that friendship was the romance all along this entire time.

Six entire years. And I was autistic the whole time.

It was always about being a good person for the "other" people who needed me until I realized I could be the other people as well.

The whole reason I didn't "show signs" of being transgender during my childhood?

Same reason I didn't show signs of being autistic.

I was mirroring people. I was mirroring what I thought was needed of me. Ignoring my interests or things I was curious about. Because I knew what was expected of me. That part of it was explained thoroughly, at the very least. The gender part of it all. And by God, I was going to do a good job at it.

And yeah. I was happy when I found dresses that were pretty.

Not because I was the one wearing them.

But because it meant that my mom thought I was doing such a good job at Gender that I deserved a skirt. In order to show it off to everyone.

Same reason I allowed my hair to be done. Little jewels to be twisted into my long locks that I grew myself and refused to cut. Because this was what I was good at. Everyone, even if they didn't like me, they liked my long, feminine hair. They liked my frilly, feminine dresses. And my shiny, feminine jewelry.

And well... I liked being liked. I liked being admired.

Because nobody noticed me any other way.

Unless it was for my art.

I was good at art.

I'm still good at art.

My "feminine" art.

I no longer get joy from long hair and frilly dresses and shiny jewelry.

But I still get joy from art.

Even if it isn't feminine.

Even if it isn't shown to anyone.

Because it is mine.

It is me.

It is the one thing that I grew up seeing that everyone could do. Regardless of skill. Everyone was thrown in a class together. Everyone crowded around the girl who drew anime in class. Everyone knew of the famous men like Van Gogh. Everyone was able to do art. Everyone was able to be creative. To get messy. To work with their hands.

And everyone meant that there was space for me, too.

There were finally shades of gray.

And I clutch them dearly to my heart, right next to the rainbows of devotion I painted on the inside walls of my ribcage.

Each palette I've created is a labor of love, used to picture the world in each wonderful shade of admiration.

And that is still the one thing that I have found that try as they might, they cannot sort into sexes.

So I keep my shades of gray. I keep my rainbows and my flags. And I paint them with all the colors I like. Because art showed me a way to be free. And I refuse to live my life in a cage. Regardless of who's hands made it.

I just know that it won't be mine.

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grogusmum · 11 months

Text

Seven Tears part 6

SELKIE!EZRA X F!READER

WORD COUNT: 2500ish

SERIES SUMMARY: Months after being abandoned, she does something rash and summons a selkie, who wishes to bring her comfort and maybe more.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Summer moves quickly on Roan Inish, Pearl and Cee grow close and the baby is born, but the fall brings the annulment at last, and with it there is retaliation and a choice is made.

WARNING: Olde Timey gender norms and sexism, though set in mid-20th century Ireland, and Ireland's predominantly white, Reader is physically undescribed, as are her blood relatives, her missing spouse, and his family are white, reader gives birth (not described), Cee in peril, ANGST, Colin and Jamie continue to be horrible people, Ezra is a selkie, yes, it deserves its own warning, excessive use of pet names, painful cliffhanger - its going to be okay, I promise! (as always see something say something. please let me know in my DMs if there is a warning I missed)

A/N: Welp, at 364 days since the last update- it hasn't been a literal year since the last chapter... After I finally got it down and started editing I realized why I had such a block. At least part of it anyway... This is a tough one. I understand why I kept diverting to writing side fics with sexytimes, new-fangled doodads, flashbacks of shenanigans, and so forth. While I was figuring out this chapter, and well into writing it, I spent most of the time saying to Ezra, can we just make breakfast and snuggle??? Of course, he's no help because he says yes let's. Like so many of my penultimate chapters, it's a cliffhanger and a painful one, and I am so very sorry. But I am not stopping and taking a break to do other fics. I will be writing part 7 this weekend.

Gaelic Translation (with a dash of history)

Móra dhuit ar maidin: good morning, is a twist on the traditional Dia dhuit ar maidin which means God (be) with you. Some believe this is where the infamous “Top of the Morning” Mor meaning big, Mora believed to be a “lost word”. However, it was discovered that in fact, this is one of the quite rare surviving pagan blessings. Mór was a significant goddess (note: attributes quite different to the Morrigan or Mór Ríon, even if sometimes mixed together) with many avatars. Of course, this all can be debated to the end of time, when one’s religion and language are made illegal so much is lost.

Gaeilge translation

A ghrá: love

Mo stór: Literally translating to “My treasure,” this phrase is often used to mean “my darling.”

Part 5

Series Masterlist

‘You would have to become a selkie yourself.’

Ezra stopped further conversation that night about it. “Today has been long and arduous, and not the hour for decisions of this magnitude, Moonbeam.” He had said, then unfairly distracted you as only he can.

Your time on the island was magical. You cleaned out the other cottages and your parents brought some basic furniture. The cottages were sparse but appointed with the necessaries to visit comfortably. The visits from your family and Tilda and Fergus were lovely. Because your relocation was for your safety and protection, no one knew beyond that circle. You knew you would miss your friends and cousins. But for now, you were distracted from missing them too badly because Cee came to visit, often. It was new to her, and she found it great fun. She would look at her human feet or hands and laugh with wonder, she would tell you later ‘wonder at their ridiculousness’. You noted fondly that she had a little bit of her father’s laugh.

The first time she came up out of the water you got to see the transformation firsthand. Her flippers felt for the seam under her snout, invisible to the eye. She then pulled it apart and a blonde teenager emerged.

Blonde. You looked at Ezra, flabbergasted. To which he said-

“There is a saying, my Pearl, all toads are frogs but not all frogs are indeed toads. Uncommon it may be, but one needs only look for the sea storm in her eyes to know.”

Cee came and went from the shoals, and Ezra reminded you not to worry, that as your belly rounded with every week that passed, he would be the worrier in the family.

Spending the morning fishing with your Da and Thomas, Ezra is gone when you wake. This is his way of thanking them as they usually have other supplies for you. Cee emerges from her bed which is curtained off in one corner of the great room, as you set out two bowls of porridge.

“Móra dhuit ar maidin (MOR-uhg(w)itch air MA-jin), Cee”

“Móra dhuit ar ma–” Cee yawns openly, “jin. Where is me Da?”

She, then, sniffs the oats hopefully.

“Fishing,” You tell her. “Why don' you cut some apples, dear.”

“With hooks and a line?” Cee chuffs as she sets to the task. You can not help joining her mirth.

You are with Cee on your own for the first time-

“You must have missed Ezr- your Da. I did not know I was keeping him from anyone- I would have encouraged him to visit. I am truly sorry, Cee.”

“‘tis the nature of things,” Cee says, mouth full of apples and oats, “besides if he were to slip back into his pelt and visit, he could not return to you for seven years. He has loved you a long time- everyone knows that!”

You are taken aback, you hardly register the sweet knowledge that she and others in his pod knew his love for you, thinking about the fact that if he goes in he can not return for seven years. Seeing her come and go, you assumed, with no small amount of relief, that bit was a myth, and you tell her so.

“Oh, I can come and go, because I am a natural-born selkie. Da was turned.”

“How was he turned?”

“Well,” Cee starts, “ehm, that is probably a story he ought tell you. Though he don' really like to tell that tale.”

By the time of Ezra return, Cee’s words were pushed out of your mind. For the pair of you had gathered seaweed and dug clams for luncheon, and you had felt your first real kick from the baby.

“Pearl! Come sit,” Ezra pulls you into the house. “You need to rest.”

Sitting you down by the fireplace, he settles on his knees, splaying a large warm hand on your lower belly, soft brown eyes on you, hoping to feel another kick.

“How does everyone?”

“Very well, Moonbeam,” Ezra absently runs his hand over the expanse of your middle, then drops his head on your lap. “Patrick had some supplies for us as well.”

“Any news?”

“Well…”

“What, a ghrá (uh GHRAH)?”

“Colin and his brother are still ragin’. Dierdre is making progress with the annulment, tis not sitting too well, it seems.”

“Pity sake”

“He deserves none," Ezra's eyes darken and you see his selkie nature for just a moment.

On the longest day, your water breaks at 4 a.m. The gift of midsummer's day is that daylight is already breaking, and Ezra can take the currach out right away and fetch your mam. The whole of the family comes back with Ezra and waits outside the cottage as Deirdre and Felicia help you bring young Rory into the world, with Ezra attached to your side.

When Rory's shoulder breaches its final barrier with your last mighty push, he slips like a seal into your mother’s waiting arms.

Ezra kisses your glistening brow and with a whoop, he runs to the window to shout to kin both seal and man-

“Tis a boy! With a shock of red hair from who knows where!” To which everyone whooped and laughed hardily.

“It’s midsummer! That’d be the faeries doing!” Hugh calls.

“Someone tell that boy to hush,” Deirdre says to no one in particular, shaking her head and crossing herself. She hands off the swaddled babe to Felicia, who brings him to you. Your Mam goes to the fireplace takes up an iron poker and draws talismans into the ash, muttering about faeries, calling St. Bridget to protect the home and all dwelling within.

You, Ezra, Rory, and Cee grow more in love with every passing day. There is nothing Cee enjoys more than when Rory is in his boat cradle, being lulled in the shallows tethered to a rope you hold fast to. During his fussy times, it is the only thing that calms him. She swims round and round it, bobbing up to check on him. Ezra barks his laugh at Cee’s antics and in the evenings he holds his son close, nosing his cheek and murmuring in the old way. And of course, any chance he gets, he brings you closer to him than many would find humanly possible. Nights are spent worshipful, in one another's arms. When the babe is wakeful, Ezra brings him to you, and when Rory is fed and dozing he silently takes him back to his cradle.

Summer rushes past as it has a habit of doing and autumn comes. Plans are set for this morning to go to the mainland to sign papers for your annulment.

“Tis finally here,” you sigh, kissing Ezra, the baby dressed and ready for a boat ride. “I’ll go to the church and get this settled at long last and meet you at the pub?”

“Agreed, mo stór (mu store)” Ezra says as he carries out a basket to the currach, he sets it in the boat and then helps you aboard, as you hold Rory.

The tide is with you as is the wind, so your trip is uneventful and swift. Ezra kisses your cheek and takes the baby for Tilda and Fergus to see and you head up to St Bridget’s to finally wash your hands of Colin. You smile as you walk the familiar cobbled road, excited butterflies in your belly. You remember to be watchful, knowing Colin and Jamie, this day is sure to stir up a hornet's nest. All is quiet, but you start to feel as though it is too quiet.

Ezra brings Rory into the pub, head up, bursting with fatherly pride, and Tilda comes round the board, hand on her heart. She takes up the baby as she gives Ezra a peck on the cheek.

“You may never get the wee one back,” Fergus laughs.

“Look how big you’ve gotten!” She coos.

“He is but a weed of a thing, growing faster-” No sooner does Ezra sit to catch up with his friends, does Hugh run into the bar, holding a stitch in his side. Ezra stands, his nostrils flaring as his eyes go dark, as if the barometer just fell and he could feel a dangerous storm brewing.

“I was- I was down at the docks-” he gasps trying to catch his breath. “Cee was there, knew it was the- the big day. But Colin-”

Ezra was on him, hands like vices on his shoulders.

“Ezra!” Tilda commands. He let go but the huff of his breathing bristles his mustache.

“What about Colin,” Ezra’s voice is like nothing they have ever heard. Rory fusses.

“He’s got Cee in a net, started dragging her out. Da -.”

Ezra bellows.

“Watch over Rory, Tilda. Hugh, does she know?”

“No, I came here first. Thomas has a boat- one with a motor-”

“Good lad,” Ezra breathes and storms from the pub, Hugh following behind.

At the dock, Ezra prowles up and down, until Thomas comes into view.

“Over there!”

Ezra looks at the small vessel with an outboard motor, mildly distrustful.

“Hugh stay at the dock and keep watch. We will get to the boa-”

“No. Go back to the island.”

“Wh-”

“I need my pelt.”

Cee twists and bites at the net, angry at herself for getting caught. Knowing this was to get to you and Ezra. Other seals surround her, trying to help.

She barks, nostrils flaring, pointing with her nose behind her. Two seals peel off and go in the direction she indicates, while one stays with Cee.

Soon enough two gray seals like torpedoes reach Ezra, flanking the port and starboard bows. Their heads come above the surface and one barks.

"Go on ahead to the island, in the hamper at the end of the big bed. Fast. Meet me back at this boat. Mind the propeller," Ezra shouts over the wind and motor.

The seals put out a burst of speed, porpoising in and out of the water.

"What are you going to do?"

"You have to tell her," Ezra's voice breaks, eyes rimmed red. "Tell her, I will return even if she can't bring herself to come to me. I will-"

"Ezra?"

"I promised," he wails, "I have never promised anyone anything- only she! But I can't let Cee-"

"She'll understand."

"I'm deserting her!"

"I will tell her."

"Is there anything to write with?"

Thomas rummages a bit and pulls from his pack, a small notebook with a pen tucked in its spine.

Ezra takes it and begins scribbling frantically.

Jamie’s boat speeds along, gulls scold them, and seals chase. Colin and Jamie jeer at them, determined to take their offense out on the young selkie. Heedless of the long-held taboo and the consequences that can befall entire villages, for harming a seal. Whether or not they know Cee was a selkie or a seal, they laughed in bad humor and wondered if one of them would make wife of her. They are both quite lucky Cee could not hear their base chatter.

After chewing at the net for some time, Cee finally breaks through the net, barking a laugh of triumph. When she slips free, she rolls and tumbles with her companion in celebration. When she has had her fill, she bobs in the water watching as the craft continues east. Cee barks at the other seal and sets after the boat at top speed. Only after she chews the netting that held her captive to shreds, does she make way to the mainland. But it is not long before she is faced with her mistake.

You arrive at the pub in good spirits, but your relaxed smile is wiped clean off at the sight of the faces within. Your face falls further seeing Tilda with Rory, and Ezra nowhere to be found.

"Where-"

For the second time today, Hugh bursts in like the devil is at his heels-

"C-cee-"

"Is she alright?" Tilda says standing.

"She is! She- she got away, but she's ragin' on the stand!"

The lot of you pour out of the pub. Fergus tosses out a lone customer and locks up behind. Hugh hastily explains what he knows, as your eyes become saucers. At the beach Cee is half out of her coat, as she is covered with the blanket that Tilda had the forethought to bring, she seethes-

"Da went after 'em. He didn’ know I broke free on me own until after he’d done it! He's angrier than I have ever seen!"

"Are you alright? Are you hurt at all?" Your eyes search her.

"He's not mad at that- well he is bu' he's fit to be tied because-" Cee's words pull up short, she looks like she might cry. "He thought- he- put on his pelt. I- I'm sorry."

You look as though you've been struck in the face, but you rub her shoulder absently hoping she knows you do not blame her.

"He's gone after the boat, he wi- he'll sink it," Cee finishes.

"Where's Thomas?" Asks Hugh.

"I'm here!" Thomas runs down the rocky steps, and hands you the note.

My shining Pearl,

I am loath to break my promise and beg your forgiveness.

Do I dare remind you that we spoke of you coming with me?

Though I admit that conversation was far from over.

Do I presume to ask for this gift?

Would you don a silken seal coat, mo ghrá?

Would you do this for me though I hardly deserve it?

Yours forever,

Ezra

When you finish reading, you find yourself turning a lost circle, pebbles shifting underfoot.

"I- he-" You look down at the note again, eyes brimming with unshed tears.

"He didn't want to!" Thomas says, beside himself.

"Of course, he didn't," Dierdre soothes.

Trembling, you rush to Tilda grasping her hands. Blinded by the tears that refuse to fall, you don't see what everyone else can see plain, she knows your question and hates the answer.

"The Maiden and the Seal-lord! She- she was able to take her grandmother's pelt! You have one from yours, yes? Please yes!"

The waves crash, as though very ocean can not abide your tears.

"Darlin, my seal gran has too many greats in front of it to tell us, even if I could dig it up and give it to you," Tilda holds your panicked face in her worn hands. " Which I would, I most surely would. But it would not transform you- for no matter how close I hold you as kin, you must be a blood relation. Your way… if you wish it, it will be harder."

Your wail breaks her heart, gulls echo your cry.

You take Rory in your arms, the note crushed in your hand, and climb Widow’s Rock.

"Ez-ra!"

Deirdre sends everyone back to the house and carefully climbs the rock. She wraps her arms around you and Rory.

"For right or wrong, God forgive him. He will sink that boat and come back to you, even if he can't take off his coat."

You nod in response, eyes on the open water-

"I need to talk to Cee.”

Part 7

💚THANK YOU FOR READING💚REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE MUCH APPRECIATED💚

If you care to read more of my stories you can find my masterlist here and if you would like to be tagged for any of my fics you can find my handy dandy taglist form here.

#selkie ezra x reader #ezra (prospect au)#pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fic #selkie #selkie ezra #ezra (prospect) x f!reader #selkie au

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lafleshlumpeater · 1 year

Note

can you do a travis stoll x reader frienemies to lovers

like they have a rivalry or something

maybe an apollo kid reader

idc if it’s smutty or fluffy but not a lot of angst plz

Ofc!! Tysm for requesting x

Warnings: Hand to hand fighting (no blood or severe injuries tho), mentions of weapons??, swearing, kinda public grinding but no- one notices or intervenes, I think that's it?? lmk if theres smth i missed :))

Kinda got carried away with this one

travis stoll masterlist

The war was coming.

Before Perseus Jackson arrived at camp, it was easy to brush the idea off, to convince themselves that the Prophecy of the Seven couldn’t possibly be fulfilled anytime soon; that all the current residents of camp would probably be buried six feet under before the seven were even born. But ever since Percy had arrived at camp all those years ago, it was safe to say that most of the older campers- and Chiron- could clearly see that Percy was simply way too powerful to not be one of the fated seven. It was never discussed, and it was an unspoken rule that the matter was never conferred about. The possibility of the fulfilling of the prophecy was kept from any new campers who would be reduced to panic- even Percy himself was kept blissfully oblivious, though he always was. You truly felt sorry for the boy; even Annabeth knew of the predicament he would be thrown into in the near- future, and it seemed unfair that someone so close to him (and who he obviously took a romantic interest in) would keep from him a secret so big.

And this was why Percy, the newer campers and the younger campers, were greatly confused by Chiron’s out- of- pocket announcement when he’d gathered everyone one summer morning. Without indulging in any formalities, he spoke.

“It is with the decision of both Mr D-” here, he glanced at Mr D through his peripherals, who, as always, looked bored whilst lazily stirring ice at the bottom of his red cup of Diet Coke with a straw- “- and myself that you are now all restricted from training and completing activities of your choice,” he declared in an empathetic yet firm tone which was not to be reckoned with. Despite the protests and whines of campers ringing out in the crowd, he continued in a slightly louder voice.

“In case of events the future holds, this would benefit you all greatly. This way, we can incorporate all skills needed to- fight- into activities at camp, so you will not be caught off- guard or vulnerable in any possible life or death situation. You will all be given schedules which work in a two week rotation, and you have to follow them. If not, there will be consequences.” At this, you noticed at the corner of your eye, standing some metres away, the Stoll brothers turned to each other. Usually, you’d stand with them in a little trio but you had been pointedly ignoring Travis after an incident a couple of weeks ago involving your shampoo and a neon green hair dye that the seemingly innocent boy had sworn he had nothing to do with. Now, if you hadn’t known the sly boy for the amount of time you had, you would’ve missed the way his eyes glinted with mischief, the way his facial muscles were twitching frantically, aching to laugh at your crisis- all of which caused you to be ignoring him in the first place.

You felt slightly guilty for having to avoid Connor due to the brothers’ closeness, as he was a very close friend with whom you held no grudges against, but your stubborn nature and will overrode the sorrowful feeling almost as immediately as it came.

You hadn’t even properly looked at them, and yet you knew they were giving each other almost identical grins at the prospect of even more rule- breaking. Connor’s, as you had come to know as sly and plotting, and Travis’s more playful and vexatious. That, you wouldn’t be able to forget even if you wanted to. And gods, how much you wanted to forget, yet at the same time want the image to never leave your mind; Travis Stoll’s wolfish, cheeky grin.

Travis Stoll. It was complicated. Sometimes you just wanted to wipe the stupid labrador grin off of his stupid face by shoving it down the stupid toilet; at others you just wanted to talk, and talk, and talk with him for hours on end, about anything and everything as you’d done many times. More often, particularly when he taunted you for your poor archery skills despite being a child of Apollo, you wanted to shove your bow and arrows so far down his throat he’d choke to death before he even had time to make another witty comment- they were useless to you anyway, you wouldn’t suffer much of a loss without them.

It was when you felt a hand on your shoulder that you finally snapped out of your daydream with a small gasp. A familiar, chipper voice which was far more interesting than whatever Chiron was droning on about now.

“How are we gonna win the war with your dumbass who can’t even hit an arrow at a target?”

Finding yourself face to face with a neon orange- clad chest, you looked up, although you already knew who it was. Those damn Hermes kids- always able to soundlessly, gracefully sneak up on people. Something you admired, but at the same time despised about them. Especially due to a certain, ocean- eyes individual.

You grumbled, shrugging his hand off of your shoulder. “Fuck off, you insufferable being.” Despite what your tongue said, you had admittedly missed the boy’s company over the last few weeks- the way he always raced you everywhere, the way you always taunted him while he swordfought with his siblings- but your ego. Your ego was too big to accept his half- assed apology that quickly, and you would rather die than tell him that.

He scoffed in protest and huffed indignantly, blowing a few stray curls off of his sticky forehead, beads of perspiration gleaming in the bright sun.

“What have I done now? I haven’t even been anywhere near you the last couple of weeks after…” he trailed off in an uncertain realisation, and his doubt was quickly confirmed after receiving a glare sharper than the knives they threw at targets during practice.

“Oh y/ln, you aren’t still petty about the hair?” he questioned, the slight exasperation in his voice overruled by the usual patronising tone he used when addressing you. Your huff and sassy cross of your arms confirmed his suspicions even further, and he let out a disbelieving laugh.

“Y/n, you ray of fucking sunshine? There’s a war coming soon, no time or place for holding grudges- and shame, I won’t be able to watch you shoot bull’s eyes in the arena every day,” he bantered challengingly.

Note sarcasm.

The little trickle of fondness which had found its way into your heart dissolved as quickly as it had formed, and a scowl wrinkled your pretty features.

“Shut the fuck up and listen-”, you hissed a sharp retort, proposing a peace treaty for now as you didn’t want to miss anything important. The curly- headed boy only smirked, relishing in his pleasure at knowing exactly how to wind you up and at his shortly- earnt victory, placing his hands in his pockets. Although Chiron had gained your attention once again, your mind was elsewhere- the fact that Travis was standing so close that you could smell his cologne and the unmistakable scent of the lime and apple shampoo, his regular, deep breathing and his foot gently tapping on the ground was just enough to make you hotter than the blaring sun ever could- and more irritated.

Shoving him, you scowled. “Could you not stand so close to me.”

He shoved you back. “Gods, okay, calm down. Don’t think I even want to stand next to you anyways.”

“Excuse me? If I recall correctly, you were the one who sauntered up to me with all your arrogance and bravado- stop laughing at me- STOP LAUGHING, I said!”

As Travis laughed at your indignant manner, you stamped your foot in frustration, taking your own turn to huff.

“You are so annoying- it’s obvious Connor is the better sibling.”

Connor, having cocked his head at the sound of his name from where he was standing a couple of metres away, grinned at you. You smiled back.

“Hey!”

“You can’t complain, you know exactly how and when to wind me up-”

“Y/N Y/LN AND TRAVIS STOLL!”

Chiron’s sharp voice rang out and caused the mentioned pair to jump.

“Since the two of you are so eager to be partners, you shall be,” he declared. You both looked at each other, his blue eyes squinted into upside- down crescents and nose crinkled in confusion. You grinned, seeing a window of opportunity to annoy him as he had you, and booped his ski- slope nose- just the way you know he hated.

“Y/n!” he groaned, exasperated, swatting your hand away uselessly. You just laughed and elbowed him, shushing him when Chiron gave you both a stern look once again.

“Which leads me onto my next point. You all will be in assigned pairs-” cue groans from all the campers- “-which I will read out now.”

What he said next fell to deaf ears as said pair looked at each other again, this time in amusement. You both were constantly in competition of everything and anything, often to the annoyance of other campers. This time was no different.

“You are going down, Stoll.”

“You’re on.” Travis smirked back. You nodded at each other mischievously and listened to what other shit, in your opinion, Chiron had to say.

“Pairs one to ten will be working on fitness- that includes the lava wall, archery and the climbing wall. Pairs eleven to twenty will be in the creative areas, so at the armoury, making shields, swords and for the younger campers, learning how to wear helmets and armour correctly. Pairs twenty- one to thirty-” here he gave you and Connor a reproachful look- “-physical training, so hand to hand combat. Pairs thirty- one to forty are on pegasus care and riding, and everyone else is on capture the flag.”

Before the centaur had even finished talking, you turned to the mop- headed boy.

“This is going to be fun.”

“Agreed,” he smirked.

Time skip bc I’m lazy and supposed to be doing history work rn lol

Standing in a fighting stance, you held your fists up.

“Come at me, Stoll.”

Connor grinned and threw a half- hearted punch at your side. You dodged it in one smooth move.

“That all you got?” you bantered challengingly. “Come on, even a baby karpoi will be able to defeat you in the war at this rate.”

“Taking it easy on you, y/ln.” He attacked again, this time aiming a swift kick at your legs, aiming to get you to fall. He wasn’t quick enough.

You grabbed his leg, which happened to be his dominant one, and gave it a sharp yank. He fell on his back with a small “oomph”, eliciting laughs from other training pairs.

“What’s up, Travis?”

He grumbled, rubbing the bag of his head, face slack in a daze. You took pity on him due to the uncomfortable embarrassment written all over his features, and good- naturedly reached a hand out for him to take.

He looked at it for a second as if it was alien, before smirking. You hadn’t realised your mistake until he grasped your hand tightly, used it as a leverage to pick himself up before twirling you around so your back was to him. He held his forearm to your throat, firm enough to keep you there but not enough to hurt.

“Fuck,” you grunted, twisting around in an attempt to escape. He laughed, and you felt his chest rumble, his lean muscles rippling slightly through his thin camp shirt.

“Going somewhere?” he taunted in a whisper, and if you weren’t blushing before you were now. His words tickled your ear and he finally released you, still laughing.

You flew at him, not in an attempt to hurt him but enough to catch him off- guard. Still laughing, he hadn’t expected it. You both went tumbling backwards into a wall, now your elbow against his throat.

He tilted his chin upwards, looking down his nose at you. “Stronger than you look aren’t you, y/n?”

The flirtatious use of your first name made your face burn up even more, and the fire spread to the rest of your body as your grip faltered. Connor smirked, eyes half- lidded. Seeing a window of opportunity at your flushed state, he spun you around once again; your back now against the wall. He caged you in- chest mere centimetres away from yours, face leaning down to observe you. You noticed his laboured breathing was just as turbulent as your own, ears as crimson as yours felt.

Until his smell hit you. The scent of apple and citrusy body wash was emphasised further by the amount he was sweating, making it distinctly more masculine, more attractive, more him. The heat was now spreading elsewhere, down to your core, causing an insatiable ache in the bottom of your stomach. It all made you feel weak to your knees, and you were now clawing uselessly at the wall behind you to stop yourself from falling.

As a final resort from doing anything you would later regret, you bit your lip and whispered huskily.

“Go fuck yourself, Stoll.”

His nose brushing yours, his breath fanning your lips. “Why don’t you do it yourself, y/n?”

That’s what did it, he could tell. He could see the lust in your darkened eyes only for a second before you grabbed the collar of his shirt, tugging him to meet your lips. Instantaneously, he groaned into your mouth as your tongues battled for dominance. You soon gave in to him, and let out an embarrassingly needy whine as his tongue massaged yours, imagining what it would feel like elsewhere. After its venture into your mouth, his tongue dipped back out and swiped across your swollen lips. After a playful nip to the bottom one, his lips disconnected from yours, and you felt his clothed crotch between your legs, grinding earnestly. A delicious groan left his mouth; he suppressed a desperate noise as your hands entwined themselves in his hair, pulling as hard as you dared yourself to. His hips disconnected from yours, and he held a hand out.

“My cabin?”

You took in his appearance. Swollen, saliva- coated lips, messier hair than usual, flushed cheeks- and a clear tent in his pants. You couldn’t help the smile from spreading across your lips; you had gotten him in this state, you and no- one else.

Your lips curved upwards at him, licking your lips, and took his hand.

Let’s just say you couldn’t walk properly for the next two days.

tysm if you read until the end :)) requests are always open xx

READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

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rougepancake · 11 months

Text

Spill the Wine

Dio Brando x F!Reader

Yes, the title is a song reference, but the song has nothing to do with the plot LOL- Also not proofread because we die like real men here.

Warnings: Drunk sex, degradation, Dio being mean, semi public sex (you’re in the library and there are people over), face fucking, oral (m!receiving), slight fingering, Dio has a god complex (shocker), You actually get caught by Jonathan but not like caught caught. Mdni. I will block you.

Summary: You’re a good friend of Joseph and Erina, having known both of them since you were children. However, you’re adults now, and Joseph and his adopted brother just graduated college. Celebration is in order!

“Erina I’m serious!” You scoff and sit beside her on the picnic blanket, taking her hands into your own and looking her in the eyes seriously. “Joseph misses you very much! You can’t let that fool Dio stand in your way!”

“Well… I miss JoJo too… but I’m still afraid…” Erina trails off, frowning slightly. “What if Dio tries to do something again?”

“Oh please, he won’t do it again. It’s been years since then!” You roll your eyes and place a comforting hand on her cheek. “As a fellow woman, I won’t allow him to hurt you again. And as your friend, if he does such a thing he’ll be condemned to death by my shoes!” You laugh and lift up one of your legs, your dress riding up your calf as you wave your foot in the air.

“So.” You put your leg down and look her in the eyes. “Are you going to that party that JoJo is hosting at his estate, or are you not brave enough?”

Erina frowns and breaks eye contact with you.

“Y/n… you know I can’t…”

“But he still loves you, Erina! It’s been years and he still loves you!” You raise your voice slightly and pout. “Oh whatever, I’ll be going now, thank you for your time Erina.” You hop up off the ground and wave at her.

“Y/n please don’t-“

“It’s okay, I understand. But I’m going regardless. He is my friend and that stupid Dio is an acquaintance of mine, so I’m going. It’s a huge milestone in their lives and I’m going to celebrate with them.” You spun around and began to walk away, your dress swishing behind you. “Good day.”

“Y-Y/n!”

You sat on your bed, staring at the ceiling aimlessly as you waited for eight pm to roll around. You knew there were going to be a good number of people there, so you figured you’d socialize for a bit and then disappear to the library.

But that would be too easy, wouldn’t it?

Around seven, you began to get ready, putting on some decent earrings and bright red lipstick before hopping in the carriage your father had prepared for you.

Once you arrived, Jonathan greeted you with a smile, pulling you in for a warm hug. His father did the same, saying something along the lines of how you were like a daughter to him.

All things considered, the party was quite tame. There were people everywhere, surrounding Jonathan and Dio as they congratulated the boys on their successes. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes and head towards the library. If they wanted to talk to you, they would.

It was always like this.

Ever since you had known Jonathan, you had seemed to shy away from people. He attracted attention, and attention you avoided like the plague. He understood, however, and was willing to comfort you in your anxiety when necessary.

But he didn’t find you in your drunken and anxious state. He wasn’t the one that came into the library and talked you out of it, helping you sober up enough to face the crowd so you could go home. He wasn’t the one that walked through the doors of the library and called your name lazily, looking for you.

It was Dio that found you curled up in a ball towards the back of the library. And it was Dio who took care of you.

“My my, you look like a mess.” He walked over to you and sat down beside you, eyeing the bottle of wine that was resting at your side.

“Shut up…” You took a deep breath and held it. Not even the alcohol was able to calm you down. “The… people…”

“Ah yes, there are a lot of people here tonight, no?” Dio leaned over and grabbed the bottle of wine, hiding it from you with a chuckle.

You and Dio weren’t friends by any means, because you had heard about all of the terrible things he did to Jonathan. However, as time went on and as Jonathan forgave him, you did too. You grew to be acquainted with him, but you didn’t talk all that much unless he happened to catch you when you were alone.

Just like now.

“I hate people…” With a drunken sigh, you rested your head on his shoulder, your lips forming in a pout as you reached for the bottle of wine. Dio pulled it away and raised an eyebrow at you, a smirk forming on his lips.

“Me too.” He placed a gentle hand on your head and ran his fingers through your hair. You were drunk. And when you were drunk you were much more sensitive than usual. It was taking all he had to not tease you about your anxiety, and what little self control he had was being tested in this very moment.

“Why are you in here?” Your voice was soft, almost shy, which caught him off guard some. It was much different from the harsh, indifferent side of you he had grown to hate.

“Because I got bored.” He sighs and rests his head on the bookshelf behind him. “And JoJo told me to make sure you were still alive.” He looked down at your body, taking in the sight of you curled up next to him. “I guess I’ll just have to tell him that you died of alcohol poisoning in the library.”

“Please do.” You grumbled, letting out a long and over exaggerated sigh. “He’d be embarrassed to see me like this.” A soft hiccup escaped you as you frowned, pouting at the thought of Jonathan finding you in this state.

“He sees you like this all the time. What’s the harm now?” Dio scoffed and looked down at you, smirking ever so slightly.

“It’s his party… and I got drunk because I can’t handle people…” You sounded disappointed in yourself, as if you’re upset that you let it get this bad.

“Well… I have a way to sober you up, but I can’t guarantee it’s quickness.” Dio’s smirk grew and you can practically feel it as he stared down at you. He grabbed the bottle of wine and put it to his lips, chugging it like he needed it to survive. “But first…” he hiccuped. “I need to be drunker than you are.”

“H-Huh..?” You stared at him, eyes wide as he downed what was left of the wine. He popped his lips off of the bottle with an audible gasp, fighting for air as he turned to face you.

Without hesitation, he smashed his lips onto yours, forcing you to taste the wine he just downed. His tongue forced itself past your lips, pushing past your own and hungrily exploring every corner of your mouth.

It was almost like he had been waiting for this moment to come.

“My my y/n, you taste like a drunkard.” Dio chuckled as he pulled away from you, his left hand sliding underneath your dress while his right held you pressed against him. His hand was cold against your thighs, his fingers nearing your aching heat. However, he stopped moving and pushed you to the floor of the library, driving a knee between your legs and grinding it whilst you squirmed.

“D-Dio I-“ You but the inside of your cheek nervously, your legs shaking as you closed your eyes in anticipation.

Sure he wasn’t the first guy you’ve been intimate with, but he didn’t need to know that. No one needed to know it, actually. It was frowned upon to have sexual relations with someone you weren’t betrothed to. But you didn’t care.

You were young, so why not be reckless?

“No no no my dear.” He chided, and he leg stopped moving. You whined, longing for some form of friction, for some form of release. “You’re going to be nice and quiet for me.” He undid his belt and pulled down his pants, allowing his cock to spring free from its confines.

He grabbed your wrist and pulled you off of the floor, a grunt passing through his lips as he leaned back, giving you a nice view of his twitching cock. “D’ you like what you see, m’lady?” His words slurred together, but you didn’t care. He got his point through and that’s all that really mattered.

You crawled forward slowly, but too slowly according to Dio, seeing as he grabbed your arms and pulled you close, shoving your face down by his dick. He let out a pleased hum as he watched you lean forward and lick up his length, his eyes fluttering shut briefly before he pushed your head down onto his cock.

You gagged, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as Dio helped you bob your head up and down. Sighs escaped him here and there, turning into whines as he thrust his hips against your face.

He sure was desperate for someone who seemingly didn’t like you.

Maybe it was just the wine.

“There you go, you filthy little wench.” He panted, his grip on your hair tighter as his thrusts became sloppier. Dio forced you off of his cock, chuckling softly at the audible ‘pop’ that echoed in the peaceful silence of the library. “Say ‘ah’.” He grinned as he stroked himself, his tip pointed at your tongue.

With a shameful groan, he came all over your face, treating you like a blank canvas that had yet to be painted.

He let out a breathy chuckle and pulled you into his lap, pushing up your dress and pushing aside your panties. Without warning, he inserted two fingers into your soaking cunt, thrusting at an insane pace.

“D-Dio-“

“Master Dio.” He corrected as you whined softly into his shoulder. “Lord Dio, even.” His fingers slowed inside you, and you shivered at the sudden lack of movement.

“L-Lord Dio…” You whispered, closing your eyes as you began to grind onto his fingers. His hand came up to your hip and held you in place harshly, his eyes seemingly glowing in the candle-lit room. He pulled his fingers out of your cunt slowly, hushing you when you whimpered drunkenly.

“Don’t be too loud now, or JoJo will hear us.” He leaned down to whisper into your ear, teasingly biting the shell of it as he pressed his tip against your lips. “I’m sure you wouldn’t want him to see you in such a…” He smirked and pushed himself in, cutting himself off with an unexpected moan. “O-Oh…” He trailed off and lost himself in you as he bottomed out.

He sat there for a couple of seconds, secretly relishing in the feeling of your tight pussy around him. It was wonderful, and it was everything he had hoped it would be.

You brought your hand to your face when he started thrusting, biting down harshly on it to prevent you from being too loud. However, Dio wasn’t making it easy in the slightest.

His pace was harsh, each thrust hitting deeper than the last and forcing you to see stars. Low grunts and whiny moans escaped him, and before you knew it, you were moving your hips in sync with him, both of you desperate for your release.

“Y/n? Are you in here?”

It was Jonathan.

Dio didn’t slow down and instead glared at you, silently threatening you into making the right decision. He waited for you to answer Jonathan, but you looked totally fucked out, unable to think of anything but the man who was rearranging your guts right now.

“Y-Yeah. I’ll be out in a few-!” You slurred slightly, slumping into Dio’s arms with a whiny sigh. The blonde chuckled and slowed his pace some, nearing his second release. His hand came down and found your clit, thumbing away at it until you felt your high getting nearer.

“In a few, you say?” He smirked. “You’re not going anywhere.”

#jojo’s bizarre adventure #the chokehold this man has on me is so unreal it’s concerning #it’s the blonde boys I swear #he’s so babygirl #jojo’s bizzare adventure x reader #dio brando #dio brando x reader #dio brando smut #dio smut #phantom blood #jjba part 1 dio #jonathan joestar #erina pendleton #jjba fanfic #jjba x you #jjba x reader #jjba smut #jojos bizzare adventure x reader #jojo smut

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ladycatofwinterfell · 3 months

Text

The gods’ approval

Summary: Catelyn is surprised when Ned enters her sept, he so rarely does.

Day 6 of @nedcatweek : Catelyn’s sept

Catelyn had just found her feet again when she heard the creaking of the door to the sept opening. Immediately she turned around; surprised to be interrupted in the middle of her prayers. That happened so rarely.

Even more unexpected was that she found herself eye to eye with her lord husband. He never came to her sept. Since he presented it to her all those years ago he had only come inside of it a handful of times.

She watched as Ned closed the door behind him and then once more turned to face her. Though he said nothing and barely a second passed before he began looking around the sept; the discomfort apparent on his face.

“How come you’re here, my lord?” she asked.

His eyes found her face again.

“I wanted to find you” he told her.

That was not a rare occurrence, every now and then he would seek her out in the middle of the day. It happened the other way around, as well. Though if she was inside the sept he always waited for her outside rather than coming inside.

“Has something happened?”

Even as she suspected he would have said something sooner should something have happened she had to ask. There had to be a reason for why he had come all the way into the sept.

“No, nothing has happened. Everything is as it should be.”

“Yet you’re inside my sept.”

Ned gave her a wry smile.

“As you’re sometimes before my heart tree.”

Catelyn held out a hand towards him, wanted him to come closer. Hold his hand before her gods.

Ned saw what she did, yet remained by the door. He was no great force of a man most of the time, though rarely as hesitant as she saw he was then. The sept did something to him even as he had been the one to order it be built.

“I wouldn’t want to interrupt you in your prayers” he said.

She had meant to leave just before he came, she was finished with her prayers. She could leave with him, though found that she wanted to stay. They had been wed before her gods, though since then the gods had very rarely seen her husband.

“You have not, my love. Come before my gods with me.”

When she smiled at him he finally came to her. Closed the distance between them and took her hand. As always his hand was warm in hers.

“I’m not certain your gods are particularly fond of me, my lady” he said in a low voice as he looked around at the seven faces that surrounded them.

He spoke as if he did not want the gods to hear him. Most likely that was the truth.

“I’m entirely certain they’re perfectly fond of you” she said, looking up at him. “You are a devoted husband, and a kind father, and a dutiful lord.”

“And a barbaric northerner with improper rules and customs” he added.

Catelyn grimaced at him, making him smile again.

“You ordered the building of this sept, you made a place for them in Winterfell. They know you are a good man” she said, placing the hand he wasn’t holding on his chest.

Ned cupped her face, stroke his thumb over her cheek. His eyes went to the carving of the Mother that was behind her, then he looked at her again. She saw how his gaze softened when his eyes found hers.

“I didn’t build this sept for them, I built it for you” he said and his voice was as soft as his eyes.

The joy of that gift never lessened. Each time she stepped into the little building she was struck by that it had been raised for her sake. For thousands and thousands of years Winterfell had contained only a godswood and Ned had changed that for her.

“That was when I knew the depth of your will to make me feel at home here.”

That was when she had known she could truly love him one day. She had not loved him when he led her into the sept for the first time, though she had known she could love him. And she had known maybe he could love her if he was willing to change his ancestral seat for her.

“It seemed unfair that everyone in Winterfell but you should have a place of worship. It was a matter of respect.”

Her dear husband. Her Ned.

“House Stark has taken southern brides before, I’m not even the first Lady Stark from the Riverlands” she reminded him. “No other Lord Stark has done what you did for me in raising this sept.”

Ned let go of her hand and let his other hand fall from her cheek, instead embracing her. At first she was surprised by the sudden action, though quickly she wrapped her arms around him in return. It had not been fate that brought them together, it had been terrible things that took them to their wedding day. Though she fit so perfectly against him one could almost think otherwise.

She smiled when she felt how he nuzzled his face into her hair and took a deep breath. She could not say why he loved her hair, she merely knew that he did.

“The Eyrie has no heart tree” he mumbled.

Her husband had once been the stranger in a different country. He had spent his youth in a foreign place where people did not share his beliefs and customs, he knew what it was like.

“Had I been there I would have made one grow for you” she said.

When he laughed she felt it in her whole body. What a wonderful feeling it was when his low laughter rumbled in her chest.

“If anyone could have made a weirwood grow even though the soil was too shallow it would have been you, my love. The weirwood would have had no choice but to grow when faced with the sheer power of your stubbornness.”

She turned her face up, meaning to kiss him, but he leaned his head away.

“Your gods are watching” he reminded her.

“You have kissed me in a sept before.”

A different sept, a different time, a different kiss. Though he had kissed her, sealed their union.

He gave her a quick peck, though seemed to change his mind just after and gave her a proper kiss. She wondered how many times they had kissed since that first kiss in Riverrun’s sept. Too many to count. Each one sweeter than the one before it.

“And I believe my gods have little against seeing that I am happy with my husband” she said when they parted.

“One never knows with your gods.”

With her gods? The gods worked in ways they would never be able to understand though she knew what had to be done to appease to them. She knew what was right and what was sin, she knew how to pray to them and which face she had to pray to for different things. His gods were nameless and the only faces they carried were those of the weirwood trees.

”And one always knows with your gods?” she questioned.

”I would say so.”

”I disagree.”

Even as she had been in Winterfell for years and years she quite often found herself facing that she had little idea of what was considered proper and improper by her husband’s gods.

Ned kissed her again. A short kiss, though a sweet one all the same.

“Thank you for the sept, Ned.”

“You already thanked me years ago.”

She had thanked him for it over and over again.

“It remains a beautiful gift that I’m very thankful for.”

And she would continue to be so for the rest of her life. The sept was a place of worship, but also a place of love. Long after they were gone the sept would remain and it would always be the sept Lord Eddard built for his Lady Catelyn. Many generations later people would still know Ned had held her in such high regard.

“Were you ever worried for how people would talk?” she asked him.

That question entered her mind every now and again. She felt deep joy over the sept’s existence, was very happy with that Ned had built it for her. Though she could imagine some of his lords and ladies would be less joyful at the notion of that Lord Stark had brought the Seven into Winterfell.

Ned did not have to consider his answer.

“I ordered the building of a sept for my wife, I did not submit to the southron faith.”

“Do you believe all of your lords agree?”

“I have long since decided whatever complaints they can raise regarding this hold less weight than your right to your gods.”

A sweet notion, one she loved him for. Though at times it worried her. She was beyond happy for that their children kept both his gods and hers, worshipped both old and new, still she wondered what that might bring them one day. If when Ned was gone the northerners would look less kindly upon that decision of his.

“You have allowed our children to keep both my gods and yours. The next Lord of Winterfell will not be solely of the old gods.”

Ned looked at her for a few seconds, contemplated her words.

“Robb can keep your gods without forsaking the ancient traditions of my house” he then said. “Nothing has changed except for that he prays both to a weirwood and to these statues.”

They did not step away from one another when the door to the sept once again opened. As if he had heard what they were speaking of their eldest son became visible in the entrance.

If the surprise on his face was because of their embrace or because of Ned’s presence Catelyn couldn’t say.

“Father, Mother” Robb said, nodding towards them.

“Good day, Robb” Catelyn said with a smile.

Then she did untangle herself from Ned.

“If you were speaking of something important I could return later” Robb said.

“Not at all” Ned responded.

There was still uncertainty in his features, though Robb stepped into the sept and closed the door behind him. It was not entirely unlike how Ned had entered not long before.

“I was as surprised as you are to see your father in here” Catelyn told him.

Robb hesitated before speaking.

“Yes, I must admit I wonder what he’s doing here.”

Ned chuckled.

“Do I need a reason? This is as much a part of Winterfell as the glass gardens or the keep or the godswood.”

“I can’t remember having ever seen you inside the sept” Robb insisted.

His father made a face at him, drawing a small smile from Robb.

“I wanted to find your mother, is all” Ned then said. “Though I shall leave.”

“You can stay, Ned” Catelyn said.

He leaned towards her and kissed her temple.

“No, I should be on my way. I shall see you for supper.”

“Alright.”

Ned nodded towards Robb as he passed him and both Robb and Catelyn looked after him as he disappeared outside again.

“Was that truly all he wanted?” Robb asked once the door had closed.

Catelyn smiled even as she recognised it must have made her look like a giddy girl. It made her happy to know he only wanted to see her. He wanted her presence so much he came all the way into her sept without having something he needed to speak of.

“Yes. He came for me.”

When Robb looked at her she saw much of his father in him despite that he looked so much like her. At times Ned shone through in his expressions and manners.

”He loves you, Mother” he then said and there was something almost longing in his voice.

That, on the other hand, Catelyn recognised from Sansa.

”He does” she confirmed, trying not to sound ridiculous.

Ned had loved her for many years and she had loved him in return for just as many. If not more. It was hard to say, it had creeped up on her slowly over the span of so long.

There was hardly more to discuss regarding that. Better they get on with what they had both come there to do.

”Would you like me to lead you in prayer?” she asked, gesturing to the statue of the Father.

”Yes, thank you.”

#nedcatweek2024 #catelyn stark #catelyn tully #ned stark #ned x cat #my fic

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wooahaes · 1 year

Text

the race downstairs

pairing: non-idol!dad!dk x gn!reader

prompt: milk & cookies

word count: 0.6k~

warnings: food mentions! marriage & kids present in fic.

daisy’s notes: oh to be married to a dork..... also apparently the “milk n cookies for santa” thing is a very american (western...?) thing according to google so. whoops.

The time had finally come for Seokmin to win this race.

He’d perked up after lying in bed, back facing you for once (he knew that if he cuddled with you, you’d slip out and get downstairs before he could). He could see your sleeping form in the dark of the room, and he quickly crept of bed and into his house slippers. The milk and cookies were downstairs, your kids were asleep, and the presents “from Santa” were stashed away in the top of a closet that the kids couldn’t get into. But that would come after he finally got to the cookies first for once. Four years of having kids and he thought he might win once in the three that they were old enough to understand the concept of the big man in red, but time and time again, he’d been bested by the love of his life.

Not that you wouldn’t save him some of the cookies--you loved him enough for that. But what about the fact that he hadn’t gotten downstairs in time once over the past few years? Yes, this way of celebrating was your idea, but... come on. Just one time.

And tonight would be that one time. He quietly checked in to see your older daughter asleep in her bed, hugging the Pokemon plushie close to her as she slept. Another quick check-in on your youngest--who was curled up with his blanket snuggled securely in his arms--and Seokmin felt safe in going downstairs at long last. He liked introducing this little bit of magic into his kids’ lives.

Seokmin made his way downstairs, quietly taking step after step before turning a corner. The lights were off in the living room, but he could see the early light of day shining and revealing the plate of cookies.

And there were four. Which meant--

“Hi, honey,” you’d turned on a lamp, holding a half-eaten cookie in your other hand. You’d curled up on the couch so that he couldn’t clearly see you, not until his eyes adjusted to the lower light.

God damn it.

“But you--” He glanced back up the stairs, before immediately pouting at you. “I thought--”

You giggled, “Pillows under the blanket. You should have checked.”

Seokmin whined as he came over, falling into the spot next to you. “This isn’t fair.”

He felt your lips press against his cheek, and then you held out your cookie to him. The deal was always five cookies--two for you, two for him, and whoever got there first would get the extra. He’d once tried to argue that since he made them, he should get it, but you’d rolled your eyes and told him to get there faster this time. Despite his pouting, he took a bite and listened to the way you quietly laughed.

“I think,” you said, “they came out delicious this year.”

“You say that every year,” he said, reaching for his own gingerbread man to bite the head off of. “But thank you.”

You curled up a little closer to your husband, and Seokmin wrapped an arm around you instinctively. Soon enough, the two of you would get the presents down and savor a little more alone time before you’d wake the kids up. Seokmin would pour out the milk, left out for hours at this point, and the two of you would head back up to wake up the kids when it was closer to seven...

But at least Seokmin had you in his arms until then. He’d always consider himself the true winner when he heard your laugh and got to hold you close afterward.

taglist: @twancingyunhao @wonuziex @synthetickitsune

#wooahaes.fic #seventeen imagine #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #svt x reader #svt imagine #svt x you #wooahaes.dec22 #dk fluff #dokyeom fluff #dokyeom x you #dokyeom x reader #seokmin x reader #seokmin x you #dk x reader #dk x you

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londonharrington · 2 years

Text

cardigan | steve harrington x fem!reader

Y/N has been always Steve’s number one girl, until Nancy came along. now that they’re done, Steve wants her to be back in his life, however Y/N’s not sure if it’s worth it.

notes: 7/9 of my 100 followers celebration! this is a prequel to mine. hopper!reader.

and I knew you'd come back to me.

Ever since Y/N could remember, she was always Steve’s best friend.

She remembers the day that Steve willingly asked if he could push her on the swing so she could go higher like it was yesterday.

She remembers the flower-picking “dates”, the picnics by the park, even the fake wedding that she and Steve had when they were seven and Y/N’s parents invited Steve’s for one weekend.

She remembers him picking her up for school and dropping her back home where he’ll stay ‘till god knows that time. She remembers all the sleepovers and the making of breakfasts together.

But all of those seemed like a distant memory now.

Now that Nancy has became Steve’s girlfriend, Y/N was pushed to the sidelines. Before they were thick as thieves, but now he seems to forget that she was there.

And then everything changed.

Y/N was dragged to the mess when she was supposed to be babysitting Mike, Lucas, and Dustin but to her surprise, there was a girl with them as they dragged her along to escape the bad men that were looking for the little girl that was with them.

Her dad was obviously shocked that she was even involved, but he couldn’t help but feel relieved as he didn’t have to keep such a huge secret from her.

When Will was found and they were in the hospital, Y/N was surprised that Steve was even there. She thought that Nancy was there so obviously he was there as well.

She knew that he kept on looking at her but all she had to do was to lay her head on her dad’s shoulder and let him do all the bad staring he wanted to Steve.

That was the last time they interacted that year.

♡ ♡ ♡

Now it has been a year and a lot has changed.

First, Y/N and her dad moved in the middle of the woods when he found Eleven last Christmas, which Y/N treated as a sister. She hasn’t been a sister to anybody since they lost Sara.

Secondly, she heard that Nancy called Steve bullshit and they were now broken up. Y/N on the other hand had taken an interest on Billy, the new Hawkins High king, as he lightly proclaimed it.

Thirdly, Y/N was currently on her way to the old junkyard where they hid the year prior along with Lucas and Billy’s little sister, Max.

To her surprise, Dustin and Steve were already there, for some reason, pouring a bunch of raw meat in one spot.

“I said medium-well!” Lucas suddenly shouted, waving at the two of them.

The three of them made their way towards Steve and Dustin as they had confusion written on their faces.

As Dustin and Lucas talked behind a car, Y/N helped Max in building some sort of wall against the school bus. She was trying to avoid Steve as he kept on looking at her.

“Hey! dickheads! How come the only ones helping me out is this random girl and Y/N? We lose light in 40 minutes. Let’s go.”

When they were done in whatever they built, Y/N still didn’t understand what it was, they hid inside the school bus. As Lucas and Max were up in the roof, Dustin was pacing, Steve was playing with a lighter, and Y/N leaned by one of the windows.

Y/N zoned out in whatever they were talking about and only took notice when Steve stood right beside her.

“Some day, huh?” Steve said, trying to start a conversation with the girl he hasn’t talked to in over a year.

Y/N just shrugged before saying, “What do you want Harrington?”

“Ouch. Now I’m just Harrington to you? Have you forgotten that we are married?”

“That was 10 years ago and it wasn’t legally binding.”

“Still. We’re married. What’s up with you and Billy?”

“None of your business, Harrington. Leave me alone.”

Steve was about to reply when they saw something moving amongst the fog. He went out of the bus with the bat as he stepped towards the sound.

“He is so fucking stupid,” Y/N said.

Steve continued to urge the demogorgon as he swung the bat around.

“He’s insane.”

“He’s awesome.”

Lucas noticed another demogorgon as he tried to warn him.

“Steve! Abort! Abort!”

“Steve! Get your fucking ass back in this bus!”

They all screamed at him to get back in the bus and Y/N quickly shut the door as he got back in, preventing the demogorgons from entering.

All were taking deep breaths that they didn’t even realize that Steve and Y/N were holding each other’s hand. When Y/N realized, she quickly let go and wiped her hand on her jeans.

Little did she know this action hurt Steve’s feelings more than she’ll ever know.

♡ ♡ ♡

Many, many hours later, Steve and Y/N were forced as babysitters as her dad took El back to the gate and the Byers’ along with Nancy went to their cabin in the woods.

The kids were trying to come up with a plan as Steve tried to interject.

“Hey! Hey! Hey! This is not happening, No buts. We promised we’d keep you shitheads safe, and that’s exactly what we plan on. We’re staying here on bench, and we’re waiting for the starting team to do their job. Does everybody understand that?”

The kids protested at Steve’s idea but Steve wasn’t having it, “I said does everybody understand that? I need a yes.”

Before the children could agree, they all heard an engine right outside the house. Y/N and Max rushed to the window as they knew whose car it was.

Y/N stepped away and looked at Steve as he nodded his head and going outside the house.

“Am I dreaming, or is that you, Harrington?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Don’t cream your pants.”

“Billy? Why are you here?” Y/N asked going outside the house, standing beside Steve.

Billy’s jaw tightened when he saw Y/N with Steve, “What are you doing here babe? Along with this, amigo?”

“We could ask the same, amigo,” Steve said as he stepped towards Billy.

“Looking for my stepsister. A little birdie told me she was here.”

“Huh? That’s weird. I don’t know her.”

“Small? redhead? Bit of a bitch. Babe, you seen where she is?”

“No, I don’t know where she is Billy.”

Billy dragged his cigarette out of his mouth and started talking to Steve and Y/N.

“You know, I don't know, this... This whole situation, Harrington, I don't know. It's giving me the heebie-jeebies.”

“Oh, yeah? Why's that?”

“My 13-year-old sister goes missing all day. I did not here anything about my girlfriend for the whole day. And then I find the two of them with you in a stranger's house. And you two lie to me about it.”

“Man, were you dropped too much as a child, or what? I don’t know what you don’t understand about what I just said. She’s not here.”

“Then who is that?”

The two looked back at the house and saw the kids looking out window.

“Shit. Listen--”

Steve was cut off when Billy pushed him and when Y/N tried to stop him, he slapped her across the face.

Billy marched his way towards the house and when Steve and Y/N got inside, they saw Billy pinning Lucas against the wall.

“You are so dead, Sinclair! You’re dead!”

Steve pulled him off Lucas, “No. You are,” as he threw the first punch.

Y/N rushed to Jonathan’s bedroom because she knows he has 2 guns in there. And to her luck, he didn’t grab both.

She quickly grabbed the gun and saw Steve and Billy punching on another, with Billy almost killing him.

Y/N tackled Billy down and pointed the gun towards his head.

“Leave us alone, Billy. Or I’ll shoot this.”

“Didn’t know you had that kind of fire in you princess.”

“My dad is the chief. He’s wrapped around my finger, he’ll manage to cover up whatever shit I pull.”

Billy hit Y/N across the jaw as he grabbed a beer bottle that was lying around and he hit Y/N’s head with it.

Billy was about to punch Y/N again when Max stabbed a needle in him, leaving it in.

Y/N vision got blurry as she laid right beside Steve, with Billy following the two of them. She passed out in with confusion as she saw Max grab Billy’s car keys.

♡ ♡ ♡

When Y/N finally woke up, she saw Steve along with the kids standing in front of the car, hands covering part of their eyes.

Y/N stumbled out of the car as Steve rushed to her aid, “What fucking happened?”

Steve just let out a sigh of relief as he wrapped his arms around her waist. Basking in relief as he took in Y/N’s scent.

“Can we talk? Alone, please?”

“Now, Steve?”

“Yes, now. Kids, get inside the car.”

The four kids had their eyebrows furrowed as they got in the car.

“What do you want to talk about, Steve?”

“I want to say I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything. When I just dropped you because of Nancy. When I stopped picking you up and as well as when I never called you again. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s all in the past--” Y/N tried to interject but Steve cut her off.

“When you weren’t waking up earlier, I was so scared. Not only because of your dad, but I thought I lost you again, without telling you how I feel. I love you, Y/N, ever since we got married 10 years ago,” Steve laughs at the memory as he placed his hand on Y/N’s cheek.

“You’re just saying that because of the adrenaline, Steve,” she replied as she tried to shake his hand away from her face, but it remained.

“No, I’m not.”

“I’m not sure, Steve. I don’t want to get hurt because of you again. I don’t think my heart will be able to take it.”

“I won’t hurt you, ever again.”

“Promise?”

“I promise. Plus I think you dad will shot me if I break your heart again.”

The two of them laughed as they remained on each other’s arms, trying to come down from the high with everything that just happened. The two were finally back in each other’s lives and they wouldn’t have it any other way.

♡ ♡ ♡

A/N: I’ll upload the one I have for Lover last because it’s my favorite TS album :))

taglist on the reblog

add yourself to my taglist

#steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington one shot #joe keery imagine #joe keery x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things one shot

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