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hon3y-y · 5 months

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ੈ✩‧₊˚ pov: hockeyplayer!suguru is your loving boyfriend<3

Inclusive to all fem readers<3 (no deep description of body type or skin color)

Enjoy<3

Hockeyplayer!bf! Suguru who’s hair flows behind him while he skates on the ice, flashing you a bright smile as he skates past you to score. He immediately blows a kiss to you and goes to celebrate with his team. He’ll go skating to the benches and practically throws himself over, “you see me babe?” He calls up to you. You nod, blushing as his coach tells him to sit down and grumbles “keep your head in the game, suguru. We haven’t won yet…” he’ll blow a kiss to you before sitting down, pushing away his teasing teammates.

Hockeyplayer!bf! Suguru who tells the opposing player standing next to him during the face-off, “by the way, I’m scoring off of this..” the guy looks confused and scoffs at your boyfriends cockiness, but ends up shocked when he does. Before he can fully process how fast suguru scored, he sees getou rush to where you are in the stands, calling out to his lucky charm.

I mean, he’s in front of his favorite person in the world? When is a better time to show off…

He’ll beg you to come to practices, showing you his smooth tricks and waiting for your approval every time. He absolutely loves praise and hearing you cheer for him, even during an empty practice? It scratches his brain in a way that pushes him to try harder, move faster, and win. He just loves to make you proud.

Hockeyplayer!bf! Suguru who’s own team is freaking out when you said you might not be able to make the game. He’s sulking, and his teammates are all trying to make him feel better.

‘She’ll come, don’t worry!’

‘She’s probably on her way right now.’

‘Just breathe, bro…’ which only makes him grumpier

After confirming you won't be able to make it, he’s out of it the first two periods, allowing the team they’re against to get ahead three points. During intermission you call him, saying you heard they were behind and you’d be able to be there the last period. Somehow he miraculously is back on his game and they end up only lost by one point. You apologized for missing the first half to which he shushes you, “my lucky charm made us lose with dignity, baby. I’m just happy you’re here.” He says while wrapping you in his arms, smiling like he won the Stanley cup.

When he goes home with you for the holiday, he plays hockey with your cousins and lets them win(cause he’s so sweet T-T. Probably dramatically throws himself onto the floor when they score making them giggle every time. Anyway..) That is until your nosey and annoying next door neighbor starts making comments on his plays. He rolls his eyes, leaning on his stick while focusing on the way the neighbor leans into you or comments on how pretty you look and suddenly there’s a puck flying, nearly hitting the annoying man. He goes to where you two are wrapping a protective arm around you, he’s acting shocked too. The neighbors eyes wide in shock sputtering nonsense as you try not to laugh, “shit man, usually I don’t miss.”

Hockeyplayer!bf! Suguru who runs out of the changing rooms as soon as he’s done and goes to meet you. His eyes sparkling, grin wide on his face as he moves his hockey gear to give you a bear hug. “How’d i do?” His voice is mumbled into your neck, tightening his arms and breathing in your comforting scent. You laugh at the ticklish feeling before facing him, “so good my love, couldn’t take my eyes off you~” making him blush.

Suguru is always worked up after a game, pulling you out to his car with a smirk on his lips. He’s staring down your shirt and smacks your ass when you pass him holding the door for you, “suguru! We’re in public—“ to which he just laughs and begins to tease you, “i thought you liked being watched? Didn’t have a problem when i made you cum on my fingers in front of satoru last week?” To which you gasp and immediately reach up to cover his filthy mouth. “I didn’t know he came in!” Your cheeks are flushed pink and you mumble a tiny ‘hmph’ before going to the passenger seat of the car.

You're confused when he doesn’t open it, turning to look at him and noticing his crossed arms. “That’s my job, princess.” And just like that, your putty for him again. You giggle and turn away as he strolls over only for you to stop him. “Open the back, gonna need it more…” you lean up to his ear and whisper making him bite his lip. “Anything for you, baby.”

NSFW below;

Hockeyplayer!bf! Suguru who currently has you in his lap in the backseat of his car, his hands grabbing and caressing anything he can. He plays with your tits through your shirt, nipping at your lip and rolling his hips up to grind his aching cock into your covered pussy. “Mmh—take this off, please..” he’s pawing at your shirt, helping you remove the item before immediately pulling your bra down to stare at your pretty tits. He tugs and plays with your nipples, chuckling when you push his hands lower “guru, play with this instead~”

Clothes are thrown around the car, both of you guys impatiently wanting to feel each other. You climb on top of him again, feeling your mouth salivate at the sight of how large he is (never failing to impress you)

The feeling of his tip pushing into you makes you let out a sharp cry, the stretch painful without the prep but your dripping pussy helps glide him inside. Suguru reaches up to caress your soft cheek, kissing your watering eyes while whispering words of encouragement. “I know baby,” he leans his head against the headrest, trying not to cum just by the feeling of his head popping through your tiny, wet hole. “Slow baby, you can take it~” his hands rest on your hips, moving to play with your clit and try to help you adjust.

When you finally sink down onto him fully, he holds you still, closing his eyes and trying to not succumb to cumming right there. Your face is twisted up as his cock nestles against every nerve you have, panting at just how full he makes you. “Su-guru, ‘ure so big—nghh!” You moan when he rolls his hips up.

With your hands using his shoulders as leverage, you begin to ride him. Suguru is noisy, he doesn’t mind showing his lover how good he feels. And as he leans into your ear, telling you how good you’re doing, you can’t be more grateful it’s you he’s talking to

“Good job baby—oh fuck!—riding me so g-good.” He moves his hands to your ass, spanking it and watching the jiggle it makes before grabbing it for leverage. He’s also a little impatient so it’s not long until he fucks up into your pussy, making eye contact with you so he can watch the way you lose yourself in the pleasure. His cock hit your g-spot harshly, you clench tightly around him with your eyes rolling back. You moaned uncontrollably, any attempt to shush yourself stopped by suguru. “Move ur’ fucking—hands.”

Your tears egged him on, enjoying your choked sobs that echoed in the confined space. The car had fog on the windows, shaking lightly and if anyone of his teammates saw, it would be nearly impossible to argue what the two of you are doing.

He slows down, changing his rough pace to slow loving thrusts. He pulls you to him, kissing you passionately and enjoying the intimate moment while reaching down to thumb your clit. You gasp into the kiss, brows furrowing at the double stimulation. “Don’t s-stop!” You beg, messily kissing him letting out shakey breaths. Suguru playfully smiles while nodding, “i won’t baby, promise…”

He adjusts the two of you, laying you down and lifting your legs to your chest before pushing back into you. He groans, and grabs your jaw. “Open.” You do as you’re told and feel suguru spit into your mouth, picking up his pace after watching you swallow it without instruction. “Good—fuckin—girl.” He emphasized with every thrust, nearly hypnotized by how pretty you look.

You tighten around him when he leans down to suck on your harden nipple, bucking your hips to meet him halfway. You’re being fucked dumb, eyes rolling whenever he fucks you full, feeling yourself getting closer to the edge with every drag of his cock. Your voice pitches, “Gon-na cum!”

Suguru wraps his hand around your throat, “yeah? Not even asking? What a brat.” He scoffs. You try and speak, wanting to beg and be his good girl but you can’t. You can feel it building, unable to have any control. His eyes darken, “really? Still not gonna ask?” And you start crying. Your brain is fried, the need to please losing to your own selfish desire to cum.

“S-sor-ry!” You yelp as it snaps. you cum hard, your eyes squeezed tight as your back arches up and your whole body tightening. You're shaking, throwing your arms over your eyes as you curl into yourself as intense wave after wave courses through you. With ringing ears, you don’t know when you finally regain senses but the first thing you feel is Suguru's rough hands caressing your cheek.

Suguru has pulled out of you, “holy shit, looked so hot babe.” You laugh at the surprised look on his face. You look down and notice the wet spot on his seat and try to sit up, embarrassed. “Woah, take a second to breathe, mama.” He jokes while pushing you back down.

“Guru, I’m sorry. Ill clean—“ he cuts you off with an annoyed groan, playfully smacking your pussy making you gasp. “You should only apologize because I didn't get it on camera.” You look up at him and smirk, “you didn’t cum yet, think you can make me do it again?”

Hockeyplayer!bf! Suguru who does make you cream on his cock again but this time on video. The same video that, with your permission of course, he shows to his teammate satoru with an open invitation to join in on that nights after party

Hockeyplayer!bf! Suguru is just the best<3333

A/n: it’s finally done🙏 i have finals coming up so idk when imma write again💔

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notjustjavierpena · 9 months

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The Making of Ellie - Part I

A/N: This DILF!Joel piece has rotted my brain for 24 hours straight. I have had absolutely no break from thinking about this, and it’s never been easier to write something.

Summary: A look into how you and Joel’s relationship is going two years in. Joel’s POV on his never-ending love for you and his extreme baby fever.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader/You (No y/n)

Tags: +18 Smut (MDNI!), Joel’s POV, domesticated Joel Miller, Sarah makes an appearance!!!, tooth-rotting love and fluff, they’re crazy about each other, talk about birth control and ovulation, pussy eating (joel is a cunning linguist), fingering, bit of praise kink, dirty talk, bit of body worship, breeding kink, daddy kink (if you squint real hard), slow and sensual piv sex, intense orgasms, creampie, God they are in love

Word count: 4k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49183051

Song inspiration(!!!): Too Lost In You by Sugababes

Baby-Making

Joel comes home from work around the same time each day now — and it’s never after dinner time. He has made it his mission to make time for Sarah and you, cut down work since you moved in, because two working adults living in the house means that he can slow things down.

His health has improved, his mood too, his fatigue has practically gone and Sarah has had more time to just be a kid, started playing soccer again, and has even taken up coaching the little league team now that she’s 16. It’s good for him. You are good for him. For both of them.

He loves it. He takes the afternoon post-work ritual very seriously. Always texts if he should pick something up from the grocery store. Sometimes brings you flowers too, remembering that one time you’d said that you didn’t actually mind the cheap cellophane-wrapped bouquets.

It’s interesting to him how natural it feels for him to slip right into domestic bliss with you because he never thought that he would get there again after Sarah’s mother. On top of it, he never considered himself a gentle thing, but after you, it’s like you kiss the calluses of him away. He is nothing but gentle now, even in his roughness.

He throws the keys onto the side table by the front door after arriving home, shrugs off his jacket, and bends down to take off his boots. The sound makes you appear in the doorway. Joel notices that you’ve changed into gray sweatpants and a tank top with a strawberry on it since arriving home, basically removed anything from you that is professional and uncomfortable. Joel loves you like this because he is the only one who gets to enjoy you like this; relaxed and beautiful, hair in a messy bun on top of your head and fuzzy socks on your always-cold feet. He smiles at your radiance, then pads across the floor to kiss you hello.

There’s something in your eyes; a flicker of mischief as you grab his wrist to look at his watch. With a grin that nearly sets his heart into overdrive, you hold his hand up so he can look at the time too.

“It’s five minutes past,” you tut.

“Right, but I got ya something,” he says, reluctantly turning away from you to rummage through his jacket pocket. He fishes out a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup and you immediately snatch it from his hands, holding it close to your chest.

“Gremlin,” he teases and you stick out your tongue at him, “No needa hide it. ‘S too sweet for me anyway.”

“I shall save it for later then,” you walk to the kitchen and open the top cabinet that holds the mugs. You stand on your toes to reach into the very back, shirt riding up just a little, and stash the chocolate cup for later consumption.

“Hidden from Sa-rah, the candy thief,” you purposely pronounce her name wrong for dramatic purposes. Then you lower yourself onto the soles of your feet again, not bothering to pull your top down again. Joel watches the slight reveal of the dimples on your back.

“Right,” he chuckles.

Dear Lord, he loves you so much that it is ridiculous. In a way that makes the future look better than it ever has because it’s no longer filled with uncertainty. He knows what’s going to happen; he’ll build a house for the three of you, he’ll marry you in the Texan spring and he’ll give you as many babies as you want. He’d do it all today if he could.

“How was work?” You interrupt his thoughts by wrapping your soft hands around the nape of his neck, resting them there. You have rosy cheeks, feel warm against his skin, with love radiating from your fingertips.

“Good, told Tommy to handle the next few clients. Some hotshot guy comin’ into the office tomorrow,” Joel tells you, wrapping his arms around your waist and tugging you closer. He thinks that you don’t actually care about any of this, but there’s no indication of boredom on your face.

“He building a castle or something?” You ask.

“Somethin’ like that. Guy’s filthy rich but not from his own doin’, looking at blueprints at the end of the week. Should be interesting,” he continues, “Not that you care about that.”

“I do actually like hearing about your job,” you kiss him on the lips, peck them repeatedly until he cannot help himself and lifts you up to hug you tight. His arms rest along your back and his hands on your sides, fingers sprawled out underneath where your bra had been in the morning. You must’ve taken it off too. He loves you comfortable.

“You just love my hands,” he retorts, nose against your cheek, “Don’t deny it. I see right through ya.”

“It’s definitely not completely wrong,” you admit when he sets you down again.

You walk back to the kitchen, too tempted by the knowledge of what is in your kitchen cabinet. You only take half, proclaiming some bullshit that you have to watch out for your blood sugar since one can never know when it’s going to get you.

Joel rolls his eyes, following you, “I can give ya some sugar.”

“Joel Miller!” You pretend to look shocked. He tastes the peanut butter in your mouth, pushes you against the counter.

“Gross,” a teenage girl’s voice says.

“Oh right, Sarah’s home,” you announce sheepishly.

Joel pulls away to look at his daughter, “Hey kiddo. How was school?”

“You don’t care about that,” she smirks, “But if you must know, it was fine. No homework.”

“That don’t sound like Mrs. uhhh…”

“Green, it’s Ms. Green, Dad,” Sarah says dramatically as she moves across the floor to put on shoes. Her tone turns taunting, “Go ahead and make out with your girlfriend. I’m going to soccer practice.”

“Have fun, Sarah! We’ll have dinner ready,” you chime in.

“See ya, honey.”

The door closes behind her. The house grows quiet for a moment, but then the mischief is back in your eyes, “She’s seeing a boy.”

Joel nearly gets whiplash, not sure why his pulse spikes. He trusts his daughter to make good decisions and has taught her how since she was just a baby, “Nah, she ain’t. Just said she’s going to soccer practice.”

“Joel,” you sigh loudly, “It’s Tuesday.”

“So?”

“She has practice on Thursdays.”

“Christ,” he runs a hand over his stubble, tries to keep his composure, and ignores the urge to send her a text.

“But you know what?” You’re back in his personal space, tugging at his arms to make him hold you close again, “Such a fun coincidence. I’m also seeing a boy.”

Joel can feel the tension seeping out of him in an instant.

“Really? ‘Cause I’m seein’ a girl. She’s real pretty,” he wishes that he could show his past self how tooth-rottingly sweet he is being with you because he’d hate it. Though if past-Joel found out who he was treating like this, he’d instantly become a goner just like present-Joel is now.

“‘S her sweet tooth, unhinged behavior that I love the most though,” he continues.

You whine in his arms, lean your head back and it earns you a kiss on your neck, “Don’t be like that. Not when I’m ovulating. I’ll climb you like a tree.”

Oh.

It may seem innocent but Joel knows this is how you play dirty. It suddenly explains a lot. The sweatpants, the rosy cheeks, the way you glow, no bra, the cravings, why Joel wants you so bad.

Joel wouldn’t say that he is controlled by biology, and he hates the men trying to argue their way out of acting like cavemen. But looking at you right now in your stupid strawberry tank top, knowing that you’re horny and ready because your body wants to make him a daddy... Joel’s head swims.

Something shifts in the air. You can see it on him, but Joel assumes that you wait for him to act on whatever is bubbling up in his chest and below his belt.

And act, he does. He distracts you with deep, long kisses until he can snatch you up from the ground and carry you upstairs. You squeak out a giggle but don’t fight back, enjoying the freedom of being alone with him.

“That’s why you’re so fucking sexy,” Joel says after placing you on your shared bed. He is already shedding himself of his shirt, undressing hurriedly to get close to your skin with his own as quickly as possible.

You crawl back on the bed, untying the strings of your sweatpants and yanking them down your legs. You match his urgency, but still decide to tease him, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Shut your mouth,” he yanks the rest of your pants off as soon as he is naked in front of you. He throws them in the pile of his own clothes, “You know exactly what I’m talking about, dirty girl.”

You’re just about to take your top off before Joel stops you with a hand curled around the hem. He knows you’re sensitive at this point in your cycle, but it’s not why he wants to keep it on, “I love how cute you are in this shirt. Keep it on like this.”

He crawls properly onto the bed to demonstrate and tugs the shirt up over your tits so he can still see the stupid animated fruit on the front. Afterward, he tugs your panties down your legs and off your feet. He will swear to a higher power that he can even smell it on you, sweet like strawberries and honey between your legs and it makes him feel like an animal.

He has had baby fever for a while now, even told you his plans on giving you a whole bunch of babies and you’ve merely giggled at him, especially when he told you that twins don’t run in his family, but he is sure that nature will give him a whole litter with you.

“Want me to eat you out?” He asks to which you whimper and nod. He doesn’t give you what you want right then and there, instead climbs up to cradle your head in his hands and gives you a long, slow kiss. He sucks on your tongue, hums into your mouth, and gets you worked up and wet before he’ll treat you right.

“Tell me,” he says when he breaks the kiss, nosing along the bunched-up fabric of his new favorite top of yours. He sucks at the skin between your breasts, places open-mouthed kisses along the swell of the left whilst cupping the right.

“I want you to eat my pussy,” you moan softly, running a hand over his hair as he licks a nipple. You slide your fingers into it, but you don’t tug at it unless you feel like you need to hold onto it for dear life.

“God, you’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he growls before going further down your body, his spit leaving a shine where his mouth has been, “Can’t believe I own these tits.”

He goes further down, lets out a satisfied noise when he can see between your legs, “—and this pussy.”

“Yes, it’s yours, fuck, baby,” you sound delirious already, happy and eager to be touched, on the verge of a giggle even, “Joel, need your mou—“

You gasp loudly into the quiet bedroom. Joel has covered you with his mouth, eyes almost rolling back into his skull at the taste of your ripe cunt. He is too lost in you, a complete idiot with how head over heels he is for you, and he shows it by devouring you like he is starved.

“Baby!” You cry out, sensitive, “Fuuuck— just like that!”

He watches your thighs twitch in his peripheral, holds you down by placing a strong hand just below your belly button, and uses his thumb on said hand to pull the hood of your clit back. He sucks the little now-hard nub into his mouth, sending you into a state where he is unsure if you can even sense the sheets underneath you. If you had superpowers, he surely would’ve made you lift off the bed as if you were possessed.

He bobs his head a little, probably looking obscene as he hums against your clit and wiggles his head too. He looks up at you through his lashes, sees the red flush on your chest, and knows that you are close. Christ, he hasn’t been this into someone before.

“I’m gonna— you’re gonna make me—“ you say like always, announcing your departure from reality. He keeps going, feeling your stomach jump in a stuttering manner underneath his palm with how uneven your breathing has become.

“Fuck, I’m coming!” You sob with a yank of Joel’s hair and suddenly your thighs are shaking violently without your control. Joel can feel you coming before you announce it, your cunt clenching rapidly against his lips and your clit pulsing in his mouth as he sucks your folds into his mouth. You taste so good as a gush on slick smears his lips and chin even more. He laps it up.

You push him away when he gets too much, and he turns his head to kiss your inner thigh. You finally release the giggle that you’ve been suppressing, drunk on dopamine and Joel falls in love with you a bit more.

“You’re fucking incredible,” you say. The hand in his hair slides down so you can affectionately run your knuckles over his cheek. He responds by gently rubbing your thighs, soothing you on top of putting such strain on your heart and your breath. You hum, “I love you so much.”

Without warning, he smacks your thigh and you sit up straight. He grins, “Love ya too, sweetheart. Think you can give me one more before I fuck ya?”

“Jesus, what’s gotten into you?” You ask genuinely as you lower onto your back again.

“Wanna fuck a baby into you,” he replies, voice an octave lower than normal. He senses your shiver without having to look at your face, “Please. Wanna get her red and puffy so it fucking sticks.”

You let out an involuntary moan at the idea. You want this as much as him, he hopes, and he slides two fingers into your neglected pussy whilst he waits for the green light to fill you up. He crooks them upwards, fingers the spongy spot that only seems to have been discovered by him, “Lemme in. Lemme come in you.”

You’ve been off the pill for a while with the reasoning that it wasn’t doing any good for your body. Joel had stocked up on condoms since then, actually filled the top drawer of his nightstand to the brim because honey, we’re young and healthy, red-blooded Americans. But it had planted the idea in his mind that he could potentially knock you up, and suddenly the stash of condoms was being used rapidly.

“Okay,” you say with a half-moan, “Fuck, okay.”

Joel immediately sits up on his knees, still fucking you open on his hand. You squirm underneath his touch, trying to get a hold of your breathing this time, holding eye contact with him as he drags another orgasm from you.

It is much less hurried and a lot more intense, muscles clamping down on his digits rhythmically as you bite your lip and close your eyes with a soft gasp. He can’t decide if he finds this more sexy.

“Did you mean it?” He asks as he trails kisses up your belly. He kneels between your legs and places an elbow on either side of your chest so he can hold both your breasts in his hands. He squeezes them together, sucks on a nipple until you sigh deeply, and then watches them bounce back into place.

“Yes,” you say and your voice doesn’t sound unsure at all, “Fuck yes, I want your babies. Wanted them since I saw you. Want you to make me a mommy.”

“The prettiest momma out there,” he says, euphoria evident on his face. He slides his arms underneath you, rests his head on your breasts, and hugs you close to his chest, “Wanna fuck ya.”

“Please,” you say softly, spreading your legs open for him but he has other plans. He releases you from his arms to sit up again, spreading his knees a little. His hands wrap around your ankles to lift your legs up onto his shoulders, your feet behind his ears. He leans over you afterward and bends your flexible legs backward until the front of his thighs are against the back of yours. He can go deep like this, fill you up with his come how he has wanted to for months.

He takes hold of his cock, eases it inside of your spent and warm cunt inch by inch. You feel incredible around his dick without a piece of rubber separating the two of you. He can feel the head of his dick nudge at your cervix, moaning quietly as he is engulfed by your wet, pulsating heat.

“How are you still so fucking tight?” He groans, resting his forehead against your calf as he gives you a moment to adjust to the stretch. He knows he is big, gets a thrill out of how well you take him each time as if you were made specifically for him. There had been one time where he’d called you a trooper, and you had laughed so hard with his dick inside you that it had made him come.

“You feel so big like this,” you say as you look down between the two of you, already sounding out of breath. Joel kisses your calf repeatedly and softly, trying to soothe your overwhelmed body.

“Goddamn. You’re so sexy,” he praises, placing both hands on the sides of your head so he is hovering above you. He finds your hazy eyes, “Look at you.”

He gives an experimental roll of his hips that makes you whimper, both hands reaching for the backs of his knees. You hold onto him, staring up into his eyes with that siren-like look in them, and then you moan softly.

Joel starts fucking you desperately at that. He doesn’t hurry though, keeps his hips’ movements slow and sensual to have you moaning and gasping ever so slightly at the intensity. He knows he could just give in and fuck you rough and fast, but the heavy-lidded gaze that you are giving him with your mouth hanging open is too good to spoil.

“Joel,” you cry but it’s barely audible compared to what he sometimes drags from you. He can feel your nails dig into the flexing muscles of his thighs, creating half-moon shapes in the flesh. He switches to a rocking motion, and it sends your eyes rolling into the back of your head. You moan with your bottom lip between your teeth, “Mhm—“

“I know, baby, let it out,” he can see your pulse jumping wildly underneath the sensitive skin of your neck, feeling the heat of his orgasm pool at the base of his spine. He needs to be closer to you.

“Lift your legs down to the sides,” he tells you gently, thrusts coming to a halt and him realizing that you’ve heard absolutely nothing. He repeats himself, waits for you to follow his instructions, and then hooks his arms underneath your knees.

Joel gets closer to you by resting his weight on his elbows, his own body on top of your slightly contorted one. You reach for him, grabby hands in the air until he allows himself to be pulled in for a kiss. You cradle his face, make him feel safe in your arms.

“I love you, baby,” he breathes deeply. The new position gives him an opportunity to reach deeper inside of you, and it’s accompanied by each upward snap of his pelvis causing his cockhead to push into your g-spot. It makes it difficult for you to continue kissing him, eventually simply breathing into his mouth as he has you speared on his dick. Never once do you let go of his face, thumbs on his cheekbones, and tip of your nose against his.

“I love you,” you whisper, unable to catch your breath. Joel can feel your walls flutter around his dick, threatening to pull his own climax from him too soon. You pant, eyes burning, “You— baby, shit… you’re gonna make me come.”

“Yeah?” He speeds up a little, carding a hand through your hair and gently tugging on the bun. He coaxes you, “Gonna milk my cock into you? Make me a daddy?”

“Yeah,” you whimper wantonly, tightening your legs into his sides as you try moving with him, “Yeah, baby. Gonna make you a daddy! Fuckfuckfuck. Ah— I’m, I—“

Joel doesn’t know if he’s ever made you come like this; without all the muscle and rough touches, without the fast-paced snaps of his hips and the foul taunting from his mouth of how dirty you are. But come you do, with your brows furrowed, gaze on his and a controlled breathing that suddenly becomes erratic and uneven after you let out a high-pitched cry.

“That’s it,” he admires you, “So good f’me.”

You clamp down on his cock so hard that he sees stars, fucks you through each convulsion of your cunt. His mouth drips with filth as he works himself toward his own pleasure, “You make me so fucking horny, baby. Wanna knock— ngh, wanna knock this pretty pussy up all the time. Give ya a whole fuckin’ litter.”

He tips over the edge not long after, heart pounding in his chest and the sensation in his balls tightening. He releases with a groan, settles deep inside of you to make sure he doesn’t waste a single drop. His orgasm pulses through his cock, swirls in his belly, and warms the small of his back.

“Fuuuck,” he pants. He carefully removes his arms from underneath your legs before he collapses, allowing you to stretch out underneath him. You look completely fucked out, gasping feebly as he teasingly gives you another thrust before pulling out.

You wrap your arms around him as he falls onto you, nose against the shell of his ear. He can barely lift his head when you speak, humming into your neck that vibrates as you talk, “You think other people have sex this good?”

“Nah, ‘s why everyone is so fuckin’ miserable, why they gotta build mansions with their parents’ money,” he murmurs.

“Stop thinking about the hotshot client in bed,” you tease as you cradle his head in your arms, lifting your legs to wrap them around his waist. It seems you cannot get close enough, “You should only think about sticky, sweaty me.”

Joel finds that he doesn’t care about sticky, sweaty skin and you feeling like a furnace after three orgasms. He lays with you like this for a while, sure that you’ve drifted off to sleep at one point, until you push at his shoulder, voice back to your normal pitch as the post-orgasmic bliss has faded slowly, “Gotta pee.”

“Sure,” he rolls off of you. The sight of your waddle to the bathroom makes him smile, eyes following the way the fleshiest part of your ass and thighs jiggle with each step.

When you’ve closed the door behind you, Joel finds the strength to rid the bed of the dirty sheets and start dressing again. He’ll have a shower before bed, he decides, ignoring the sensitivity of sliding on boxers and jeans again.

Hurriedly, he bounces down the stairs to the kitchen. He gets the rest of your peanut butter cup, places it on the nightstand with your clothes right beside it.

He checks the time. There’s no point in trying to cook something up for dinner if Sarah is home from ‘practice’ soon, so he goes down into the kitchen to order pizza, heart thrumming in his chest as he hears you shout a thank you from upstairs at the discovery of the other half of your favorite snack. He is happy. So so happy.

Especially as he writes ‘pregnancy test’ into his Notes app shopping list.

@elissaaa @queerponcho @casa-boiardi @gracieispunk @hiddenbabynyc @hopelessromantic727 @livingdeadmaria @its-nebuleuse @milly-louise @cool-iguana @pawnshopbluess222 @joeldjarin @queenbrownie18 @scarletsloveletter @ladyburberry @swiftsgirlfriend @walkintotheriveranddisappear @sunnywithachanceofjavi @strang3lov3 @hellishjoel @toxicanonymity

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thedgeoftheuniverse · 6 months

Text

ROTTEN. | astarion

pairing: astarion x gn!reader

warnings: healthy dose of angst and self-loathing, mild sexual descriptions and references, wrote this in less than 2 hrs so give me a break, mainly astarion's pov idk it just happened that way

word count: 2.6k

For a moment, his voice tries to betray the weight of this confession, but he knows there is no softening the blow of this—of both a confession of love, and an admission of guilt, and he is unsure if one is enough to outweigh the other. He knows this is the end; he knows you will finally see him for the wretched thing he is, and he will once again find himself alone and lonely.

He's using you.

He knows he’s using you; since the moment he laid his eyes upon the weathered lines of your face, you were his newest target—the first one of his own choosing. He initially planned to kill you; you couldn't turn on him or drive a stake through his ribs if you were already dead, and he already had enough to worry about without adding additional fuel to the already burning fear he had for his life. Not to mention, he was hungry and getting worse by the minute. He planned to call for help—play the damsel like he did countless times before, catch your attention for only a moment, just long enough to get close enough, and slit your pretty little throat.

Every step played out perfectly. You approached him just like he knew you would—his pretty face has always granted him the illusion of being a safe person; you answered his calls for help, just like he knew you would. All you had to do was get close enough, and he would take care of the rest.

Though he was completely thrown off kilter when you offered to help him, rather than leaving him to the ‘things’ in the bush. In a split second, his plan changed. If you were willing to help a stranger in the mess that the pair of you found yourselves swept up in, what would you do for someone you thought was a friend? A lover? Perhaps the wizard of—at the time—unknown power, quite frankly threatening incineration, were his knife to continue its trajectory, did encourage a modicum of restraint and de-escalation on his part, though he will never give him such credit.

However, the most unexpected change in plans was the direct, albeit slightly painful, mental link shared between him and you. You were infected—same as him—by a Mind Flayer parasite, ready to take over your body and destroy your mind in an alarmingly short timeframe.

You were an ally—a useful one and tentatively worth sparing—so long as you could continue to benefit him.

So, he started with a simple introduction: “My name's Astarion.” Spoken with a dramatic flair and a sickeningly sweet undertone that could only be found after two hundred years of charming pretty faces and innocent minds. In the moments between his introduction and the offering of your name, while the words still clung to the empty air between, Astarion formulated a new plan. It was brilliantly simple and borderline foolproof. All he had to do was convince you to fall for it, and his safety was nearly guaranteed.

(He now knows that hindsight always paints a clearer portrait than the present, and he is a fool in more ways than any would dare to calculate.)

He started small, coated his words in honey, and never oversold the part—playing into the role of the mysterious charmer that he had perfected all those years ago. He was honest, reliable, and always came to your aid during battle; he made you believe he was someone that could be trusted, no matter what your instincts may have convinced you otherwise. He was charismatic. A stolen glance here, an accidental touch there, a subtle look in his eyes that betrayed far more debaucherous intentions than what a gentleman such as himself would ever dare voice in the presence of someone as pure as you.

Perhaps, though, he erred too close to the side of caution and played his part too carefully. Vampirism is no easy condition to conceal, and the lesser creatures he managed to feast on during the night were horribly unsuitable to sustain him in the midst of such a perilous—and quite frankly, exhausting—journey. He was in a rapidly deteriorating state and worsening by the minute; he needed an intelligent, thinking creature to sink his teeth into if he wished to be of any use. He could not imagine a universe in which he would be allowed to remain in the company if he could not pull his own weight in battle or the camp.

He obscenely and undeniably fucked up when he chose to attempt to sink his fangs into the supple skin of the pretty little neck he nearly mared just a few weeks prior. He could not identify exactly why he believed he could get away with such an act undetected; his extreme hunger could be to blame, though he could not deny that the sweetness of your blood caused an insatiable stirring in his gut—he could smell it from six feet away. It permeated the air around him, nearly making him dizzy with the want—no, the need—to taste you. If hunger had driven him mad once again, then you were to blame, and therefore you were responsible for paying.

All thoughts of your reparations, however, were thrown from his mind the moment your eyes opened and he remembered that you possessed the ability to end his unnaturally long “life.”

“Shit.” His mind was completely blank. “It- It’s not what it looks like. I swear.” He could only hope that his performance would award him a standing ovation and the momentary benefit of the doubt: “I wasn't going to hurt you. I just needed... well, blood.”

It was not the confession he hoped to perform for you. He was meant to come to you, fully conscious, and present the idea as his own—he would choose to come to and confide in you. (I feel as though you and I have a… strong bond. I believe I can trust you. I cannot bear to keep this from you a moment longer.) with pretty words and round eyes. Instead, he was on his back foot and practically begging you not to ram a stake through his ribs.

And that is where his brilliantly simple plan began to pay off…

For a time.

You offered your body to him in more ways than one, and he intended to take full advantage of them all.

The sex was easy; it came to him perhaps more naturally than his flirtatious demeanor. He gave you the performance of a lifetime—he fed you borderline godly pleasures on a silver spoon while you dug your nails into grassy forest beds and moaned his name into the treetops. He knew exactly what to do to your body; he hit every single pleasure point with beautiful precision, used his mouth in all of the right places, sprinkled in the perfect praises, and made you beg just enough to make you believe you had to work for the pleasure of being underneath him and you deserved to be rewarded for it. He made sure every little word from his mouth was almost as perfect as what his mouth could do to you.

(Gods, you're beautiful.)

(Tell me how you want it. Use your words.)

(It’s as if the Gods made you to ruin me.)

He did not mean a single moment of it…

He knows he didn't. He knows, without an unparalleled doubt, that he did not mean a single sugar-coated word when he spoke in those intimate moments. He knows how vile he felt before, during, and after; he knows the suffocating self-loathing that consumed him for days after your first late-night tryst and every single night after that. He knows that, deep down, he wants you to see him as more than a sexual being, though he is not sure what else he could possibly be if not this. He knows that his manipulation was calculated and intentional; you were meant to be nothing more than a means to an end. You would help him remove this cursed tadpole embedded in his brain; you would help him kill his former master; and you would help him grasp a power that has never before been held by another vampire. You would hand him the entire world because he convinced you that he deserved it, and then he would dispose of you, as he did with the rest of his victims.

It was a brilliantly simple plan, and yet it all managed to fall apart. He is sure he played out every step perfectly, and somehow, you managed to change his plans once more.

It was never more apparent to him than right now.

Right now, as he watches you saunter around the camp, offering various greetings and the most beautiful smile he believes he has ever seen in his two hundred years of life, he realizes that you are the most incredible being he has ever gazed upon. And never has it been more apparent to him that he is a rotten thing—nothing more than a bloodthirsty monster that pretends he can believably wear the mask of a man. He thinks this is the closest thing to love he has ever felt, and even now, he will never be able to show it to you in a way that means something.

How could he have been so stupid?

How could he not have anticipated this outcome?

How could he have been so ignorant of the pining in his heart and wound up in such a situation?

His inner turmoil must have been more obvious than he would have preferred, because when you approached him, your face screamed with worry. “Astarion?” You questioned, “You look... stressed.” He was unable to find the words to respond. Something about the light shining on the hard lines of your face, leaving a shadow that danced across your cheekbones, captivated him, and he lacked the strength to look away—he doesn't think he wants to. Perhaps he could spend one hundred years gazing on the wonderful imperfections and blemishes on your skin until he has memorized every detail through the end of time, so that when you are no longer breathing, he may breathe your life once again himself, so that when another one hundred years have passed and you are nothing more than ash in the ground, he will be able to recall every minute detail of your face.

“Are you okay?”

He is on another plane of existence until the sweetness of your voice walks him back into the present.

“I… I think we need to talk.” His voice betrays him, just as his face did moments before.

You respond as you always have—with care and concern and a compassion running so deeply through your veins, it would be impossible to fabricate: “Are you alright?”

And he realizes the answer is no. He realizes that no matter the intensity of his devotion (or perhaps, is this what love is supposed to feel like?), he can never undo the damage he has caused. He can never change the sweet little lies he whispered into your ear late at night as you exposed your body to him; he can never change the intentional manipulation behind his words as he told you of your beauty; and he can never remedy the fact that he took advantage of you. You—who is made of honeysuckle and mandarins, who he has grown to so deeply care for, who he will ruin in a heartbeat if he were to ever truly love you. And perhaps he will never be able to love you. Perhaps if you are not a target, then you will never truly be anything to him; he is far too damaged to ever love you in a way that is pure and without the promise of personal gain. Perhaps he has always been and always will be a monster and deserves such treatment. He will never be able to share your bed without feeling disgust and hatred for himself. He will never be your lover, no matter how desperately he now knows he wishes to be.

“No—Yes, I just… feel awful.” Your face tells him he owes more of an explanation. He knows you are owed it. “Look, I had a plan. A nice, simple plan—seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so that you would never turn on me. It was easy... instinctive.” For a moment, his voice tries to betray the weight of this confession, but he knows there is no softening the blow of this—of both a confession of love (is this what love is supposed to feel like? I think I would rather choose the stake.) and an admission of guilt, and he is unsure if one is enough to outweigh the other. He knows this is the end; he knows you will finally see him for the wretched thing he is, and he will once again find himself alone and lonely.

(He now realizes these are two very different states of being.)

“All you had to do was fall for it.” Your face is twisted into something resembling grief. “And all I had to do was not fall for you… which is where my nice, simple plan fell apart.”

“Why are you telling me this now?” Your eyebrows are furrowed together, and your face has morphed into something entirely unreadable, but you almost seem relieved.

“I…” Another sigh: “You deserve something real.” He cannot bring himself to look into your eyes.

A heavy sigh escapes your mouth as your eyebrows relax. “I only want you.”

“Why?”

“I don't believe you to be the monster you think you are.” If he had a heartbeat, he is confident that would have stopped it. He cannot fathom a universe where he is more than what his master made him to be.

“You don't know me.”

“Then show me who you are, Astarion.” He isn't sure when you managed to get so close to him. “Let me be here for you.”

“You don't know what you're asking for.” He can feel the tears welling up in his eyes. He will never be able to give you what you’re asking for, yet you still seem to want him all the same. He knows that he is no good, that he will never be more than the image Cazador sculpted him in; he is capable of tenderness no more than the Gods are capable of answering his cries for help. And yet, here you stand—headstrong as ever, practically begging him to give this a chance, and he desperately wants it. “It’s rotten work.”

“Not to me.” Your hand reaches into the space between you to gently cup his face.

“I can't give you what you want. Being close to someone—any kind of intimacy—was something I… performed to lure people back for him. I know this is different; we’re different, but it still feels… tainted.”

“I already told you what I want.” His eyes met yours for the first time since you approached his tent. “You. Whatever it is you have to offer, I want it. It's not a dirty job; it's just you.”

For a brief moment, Astarion is able to lose himself in such a fantasy; your eyes shine as though galaxies were constructed in your irises, and he can spot no inkling of deception. Your hand is soft against his cheek as he leans into the warmth of your touch, and it does not go unnoticed that you choose to keep your hand placement modest—as though you were a gentleman dancing with a lady in a fancy ballroom while all the guests silently stared.

“I don't know what to do from here.” He places his hand over yours and leans into your touch even harder—he almost resembles a wounded dog, searching for any ounce of tenderness he can find in this midst of such an ugly world—”But I know that this... this is nice."

As you wrap your arms around his waist and nestle your head into the crook of his shoulder, Astarion believes that this is something he may be able to get used to.

Thank u for reading !!! Prob making a part 2 that is more .... idk angsty and more "I'll take care of you" if yall want it

#astarion ancunin #astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #baldur's gate #baldur's gate 3 #astarion baldurs gate #astarion fic #I don't know how to write if it isn't angsty

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paperbackribs · 3 months

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for the 'Eddie freaks out over How to Survive a Werewolf Attack' post and those who missed the upload on Ao3, this is the second part of the chapter from Steve's POV, with a little protective stobin to delight

🦇🐺🦇🐺🦇

Steve leaves the pulse of the woods behind him as he emerges from the trees that abut his backyard. He’d smelled Robin long before shifting back into his human form, the sharp mint of her shampoo mixing alongside the sweet earthiness that he now attributes to family. Never having had one, he nevertheless knows that the combination will always mean sister.

Circling the pool, its night lights cast an uncanny, rippling blue across the surface, he heads to where she sits under the warm yellow lights, propped on her elbows against the wrought-iron patio table. In her cupped hands rests a book with an overflowing tree protectively sheltering a dog and her pups, Woman and Nature carefully inscribed above them.

She stirs as he approaches, inserting a receipt between the pages to save her place and resting it beside her. Looking into her concerned eyes, Steve grimaces. “Well, that went well,” he says lightly, feeling the need to inject some humour into the memory or he may be tempted to dwell on the ache that wants to rise instead.

Robin’s face softens and he knows that she can feel his hurt even without him saying it. They’re so connected sometimes that he wonders if his wolf forged something with her when they’d sat there, bound and interrogated by Russians, only able to depend on each other. “He was a little freaked out from the unexpected is all and he just needs to get used to the idea before…”

She trails off and Steve finishes her sentence, “Before he can be in the same room as me? Robs, the guy practically had a panic attack on my mother’s Giorgetti rug. I could smell his fear: he was terrified that I was going to eat him or something.”

Robin’s lips firm as she drums her fingers over the book cover, “Yeah, well, that’s his problem. After you left, we gave him the rundown; that you’re just a normal wolf—”

Steve snorts: there’s nothing normal about his transformations at all, but Robin ignores him to continue, “—and hopefully if he’s affected by the bites then it’ll turn him into a normal bat too.”

“And how’d he take that?” Steve asks curiously.

“Oh, another meltdown,” Robin says blithely, “He’s now convinced that he’s going to turn into Bela Lugosi and will be prowling the night for his victims before we know it.” Steve laughs despite himself, already able to imagine Eddie making exaggerated gestures in the middle of the group.

“Did he hiss like a vampire?”

“Nah, but he did do that thing, you know with the cape?” She shields half her face with her forearm as if hiding menacingly behind it. Fond amusement fills Steve, as if often does when faced with Eddie’s dramatics only for it to quickly drain away at the reminder of how drastically he had taken Steve’s shift.

Robin notes his change of mood and scowls at an absent Eddie. “Scaredy-cat,” she mutters darkly, “Should have called him a scaredy-bat to his face.”

Steve chuckles and leans forward to gently tug on a lock of her blonde hair, “And then give him my nail bat…”

“So, he’d be a scaredy-bat with a nail bat that lost his bat-le shield.”

Steve waggles his hand in a so-so motion, “Could use some work.”

“Oh, screw you, buddy, I did all the work,” Robin’s eyes dance with humour even as she pokes him with a sharp finger at his ribs. Steve squirms away, “I gave you the nail bat!” He mock protests before the image of Eddie’s wide and terrified eyes crosses his mind again. He sighs, “Do you think I should avoid him for a while? Let him get used to the idea before springing myself on him again?”

Robin leans back with a too wide smile, its awkwardness immediately transparent. “What?” Steve asks suspiciously.

Her brow furrows in an apology that gives lie to the smile, “We’re meeting back here tomorrow. El thinks that she might be able to lead him through a change if he’s got it in him, and we all thought it better to get the potential of it all out of the way before Eddie devolves into one big puddle of fear.”

Rubbing the bridge of his forehead, Steve sighs, “So, not only is he freaked out by the sight of me but I’m going to see him in the next twenty-four hours.”

Robin looks at her bulky men’s watch with a grimace, “More like twelve. We figured that we should get it over sooner or later, and this way he can work out whether he wants to freak out over being a bat or a vampire.”

“Or neither,” Steve points out.

She shrugs, “It seems unlikely, right? Correlation doesn’t equal causation, and you may be the outlier, the one cool weirdo out there.”

“Thank you,” he says dryly even though he does appreciate her positive spin on his furry little situation.

It had been months after the events over Halloween, when he’d been bitten by a demo-dog, that he’d started to notice the first few small changes. At first, he’d been convinced that it was the world that had transformed: smells becoming deeper, sights becoming sharper, but after one night where he had been panicked to find that his feet were no longer so far away, and suspiciously clawed, that he’d come to the realisation that it was his senses that had evolved, not the sun or the trees or the perfume of his history teacher.

The kids, while excited, had been very little help, but their encouragement had made him feel less alone. He took Dustin’s attempt to turn him into a science experiment in stride and as an extension of the little butthead’s support. But it was when Robin had been brought into the Upside Down fold that he’d felt truly embraced.

Surprisingly, rather than turning to books and research, she’d listened to him instead. Asked Steve what he wanted to be called when he was turned and let him talk about the oddities and freedoms he’d found in this new version of himself.

Steve had already known that the wolf would be a part of him forever, but Robin’s role in his life had cemented that feeling into a bone-deep acceptance, an understanding that he wasn’t weird or wrong for his new transformation, but that it was simply another part of Steve. Or Furry Steve as Robin would gently tease him.

“Are you staying over?” He asks now, watching her smother a yawn and nod in agreement.

He stands, waiting until she walks through the door before flipping the light switch off, the flurry of moths above flutter in confusion at the sudden darkness. “We can practise some more on the way home tomorrow if you like.”

Robin had gained her license a month ago, but with no car to drive Steve was building her confidence by having her drive his. She often teased that their love was a true one since she’s the only one allowed to touch the bimmer.

Wrapping an arm around his waist, they walk through the kitchen and head to his bedroom in unspoken agreement. “That’d be great. Do you want to wolf-out or be on your side of the bed,” she counters sleepily, leaving her book on the counter as they pass.

He hums, thinking. Months ago, after they’d worked out that the Upside Down nightmares were better handled when they knew the other one was in the room, Robin had struggled with having Steve in her bed.

It’s not that he wasn’t welcome, she’d reassured him, or wanted, she’d said with a haunted expression, clearly thinking of having woken up silently screaming not moments before. But having his skin touch hers made her irritable in a way that she had no explanation for. Fur, however, was fine.

Since then, if Steve needed cuddles he was allowed to wolf-out, as they decided to call it. Once transformed, Robin had no problem with Steve’s fur covering her skin; rather, she quite liked the partial weight of his body.

He thinks that tonight he’d like the reassurance that there is one person who is not only unafraid of him but likes the differences that make him not-quite-human.

“Wolf-out,” he responds, letting go and allowing the wolf to unfold. The sweet musk of the kids sharpens, even with them having departed hours ago, as does the appealingly darker scent of Eddie, although it is bitterer than it normally is as if his fear had saturated the small space.

His tail drops sadly at the reminder, but Robin distracts him with scritches behind the ear before leading their way up the stairs to his bedroom. Steve pads behind, happy to have a friend in Robin and determinedly putting Eddie out of his mind for the rest of the night.

If you enjoyed any of this drop me a comment over at Ao3, it'd make my day! (fic now titled Swift Wings and a Brave Heart)

#platonic stobin #steddie #steve harrington #robin buckley #stranger things #paperbackribs writing

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princesschimchim1325 · 10 months

Text

The Best Way to a Person's Heart is through their Stomach

The Captain of the Silvermane guards is a loyal, dedicated and hardworking man. Gepard barely takes any breaks, always on the look out for anything amiss. Serval knew her little brother often missed meals in the name of keeping Belobog safe, but she can't help but notice a bit of change from him.

Warnings : fem reader, written in 3rd POV, Gepard being a huge SIMP, Serval being the greatest wingwoman, fluff, tooth rotting sweetness, reader is a good cook. I projected a bit into reader-chan :3

Reblogs, likes & comments are welcome! Repost or copying is not! Ai is also not allowed!

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Gepard can often only drink his morning coffee before he went to work, ready to command his guards for any attacks. Lunch usually passed by without him eating a lot, only eating once his shift was over. The amount of times he'd been scolded by Serval cannot be counted on both hands.

He knew that it wasn't healthy to skip any meals but he couldn't help it, he needed to ensure the safety of Belobog, as he'd sworn to do. He couldn't afford to make any mistakes, so sacrifices needed to be made.

At least, that was what he told himself.

°•°•°•°•°

"Woah, have you gotten even beefier, Geppie?" Serval couldn't help but notice the difference in Gepard's appearance as he entered the shop for lunch. Even sitting down, she noticed.

His cheeks were fuller and healthier, he didn't look like he was skipping meals anymore. Because of his work out regime, he usually burned off what he ate. Somehow, he looked healthier and more... buff, essentially.

"Have you been working out like crazy or something, Geppie?" Even so, she'll tease him for just about anything.

Gepard flushed, tugging at his collar as a habit whenever he was flustered. "I-it's not like that! It's just that I haven't been skipping meals. And because lady Bronya assigned me to personally train the new recruits."

Serval raised an eyebrow in suspicion, the story made sense but felt incomplete.

"Is that all?"

"Yes, that's all." Gepard nodded but Serval was still unconvinced. She'll have to resort to using her older sister rights then.

"I feel incredibly sad that you can't even trust me, Geppie. But I get it, you're not little anymore, you're the big and strong captain while I'm just lil' old me." Serval sighed dramatically, she felt a little guilty manipulating her brother like this but, he'll never talk if she didn't.

Gepard, always weak to his sisters' whims, relented with a heavy sigh. There's no point in hiding it, Serval knew him better than anyone.

"Alright, alright, I'll tell you."

Serval leaned forward, resting her arms on the table. Her little Geppie's cheeks were pink and if she looked hard enough, his ears were too.

"It was about a month and a half ago..."

○•○•○•○•○

Another long day, another day with an empty stomach. He knew that this couldn't go on for forever but he needed to get the job done, because who could if he didn't?

Gepard was a big eater and he knew it. For him to not eat the usual amount was pretty taxing but his workload and schedule didn't allow him to make a big lunch in the morning despite waking up at the crack of dawn. He settled on what he could get from the shops when he's on his short break.

He sat down on a bench, burying his face in his hands. Hunger and fatigue were not a good combination and it was starting to manifest in the form of a headache, which will most likely turn into a migraine.

He sighed heavily, not noticing the person sitting next to him on the bench. He suddenly sat up straight when the person next to him tapped his shoulder. His head snapped to the person and he immediately flushed when he realized that he wasn't the only person on the bench.

The person next to him was a young woman, a very pretty young woman, looking at him with concern.

"You don't look too well, captain." She tilted her head as she observed him. He realized he hadn't said a thing at all and stammered a response.

"Ah! Don't mind me please! I-I'll take my leave now, I wouldn't want to bother you." As he stood up to leave, his stomach decided to betray him and growled in hunger. Was it possible to get any redder?

The two of them stared at each other for a moment before the young woman took out a lunch box from her bag and handed it to him. He looked at her and then at the lunch box then back again at her, absolutely dumfounded. She giggled at his expression and opened the lunch box and took his hand and gave it to him.

"It seems Belobog's captain has been neglecting himself as of late, hmm? Well, I wouldn't want anything bad happeing to him just because he forgot to eat lunch." She mused, chuckling at the redness that has spread from Gepard's cheeks to his ears.

He cleared his throat before answering, "I-ahem, I've had worse. To protect Belobog, a few sacrifices are needed." She raised an eyebrow at him, amused but serious at the same time.

"Captain, I understand that what you are doing and know that I and the rest of Belobog appreciate your hardwork. However, if you continue neglecting yourself, how would you be able to protect us if you're about to collapse from hunger and fatigue?" He wanted to argue that it was for Belobog but he knew he was fighting a losing battle. He sighed and sat down again.

"Besides, it's rather counterproductive if you are trying to protect our city on an empty stomach, don't you think?" She smiled, knowing full well that he was starting to see his errors. She gave him a spoon and fork, gently nudging him to start eating.

Gepard shook his head, knowing full well she was right and did as he was told and ate. Her smile grew seeing him eat and enjoy the food as well and prompted her to eat her meal as well. They had small talk, her telling him her name and him telling stories from work. They both learned a few things from eachother. Turns out, she was a medic and would often patch up Silvermane guards, him being the only person that hadn't gone to her clinic.

His blush hadn't dissipated even when he finished his meal and gave the empty lunch box back to her as she finished her own. When she was finally done, he stood up turned to her.

"Thank you for the meal and company, i-it was delicious and I'll keep in mind not to skip any more meals." He bowed and turn to leave. He hadn't gone far when he heard her call out to him, "Come here again tomorrow! I have to make sure you'll actually eat, Captain!" He turned around to see her waving at him and before he can stop himself, waved back at her.

°•°•°•°•°

"And it became a routine from then on." He concluded, the blush from earlier still there on his cheeks and ears. Ah, so that's what it is...

Her little Geppie has a crush.

Gepard thought that was the end of it but suddenly Serval started sniffling and bursted out crying.

"Wha– nee-san?! Why are you crying?!" Gepard stood up, snatched a box of tissues and gave it to his sobbing older sister, patting her back to confort her.

"My little Geppie is all grown up now!" Serval exclaimed, still crying and on her fifth tissue, "I never thought the day would come, but look at you now! Next thing I know, it's your wedding!" Serval sobbed.

Gepard spluttered, "Nee-san! We're not even dating! What are you sayin–" he was cut when Serval suddenly yanked him by the collar, her eyes wide.

"What? Why not!? Wait, you should cook for her! If all ends well, then you guys end up together! If not, then just say it's to thank her!"

Gepard remained silent, weighing his options and how doing what Serval wanted (he wanted it too) will affect his friendship with the object of his affections.

Serval saw the conflict in her little brother's eyes. She smiled softly, reaching to pat his head.

"If you're not ready, then I won't force you. But, wouldn't being honest with your feeling be better? It wouldn't hurt to try. If she feels the same then great, but if not then it's not her fault, your feelings will pass."

"You two started as strangers then friends, and if she's as great as you say she is, then this wouldn't change anything." She pinched his cheek, making him wince but it lightened the mood at least.

"You're right. We're meeting at the same spot tomorrow, so it wouldn't be too strange if I return the favor and give her lunch as well." He smiled.

"Atta boy!"

He'll be sure to text her to not bring any meal.

○•○•○•○

It was a good thing it was his day off, so he was able to prepare a nice lunch. He tried not letting his intrusive thoughts get to him.

Lunch time arrived much faster than he expected and before he knew it, he walking to the bench where they often meet up to have their meals.

From afar, he can see her sillouette, waiting for him. When he was close enough, he saw her wave at him, a smile on her pretty face. He waved back and walked a little faster to get to her.

"I was surprised when you texted me to not bring lunch– you seem to be in a good mood, captain." She teased him when he sat down, he playfully rolled his eyes in response. She laughed before she noticed him holding a paper bag.

"What's in the bag?"she pointed at it, Gepard suddenly looked shy. He took out its contents and laid it down the space between them.

"It's lunch. I-I cooked it, as thanks for all you have done for me." He looked away, flustered but disapointed in himself that he couldn't say what he really wanted to say. When he finally looked back at her, he almost needed to shield his eyes.

She lit up at the sight of his homecooked meal, her smile so bright and happy.

"Wow, these look so good! Can I–?" She asked he nodded at her, pushing the lunch boxes towards her and handing her utensils. She tried an omelette and squealed in joy, a hand on her cheek, making her looked like a chipmunk. He smiled at her happy squeals and moans as she tried more of the dishes he prepared.

"It'sh sho yummy! Why are you a better cook than I am?" her eyes closed in euphoria, as he ate alongside her.

"Don't say that, you're a pretty good cook as well." He chuckled.

"Mmmh, but I can't believe you have so many talents, I wish I had a great husband like you.." she trailed off, not even realizing what she said.

Gepard froze, which led to her freezing as well. They both just looked at each other for a few moments before she became an embarassed bumbling mess, trying to and failing to explain what she said. If anything, she dug herself a deeper hole.

"I-I didn't mean to say that! It's just you're so cool and mature and handsome–the perfect husband material and you're so cute singing Serval's songs..." realizing she was just confessing her inner thoughts, she covered her face with both of her hands, only peeking in between them to see Gepard.

Gepard's face was so red, he almost looked sick.

"...you think so?" He softly asked. She meekly nodded.

He sighed.

"Do you want to make it a reality?" He asked cryptically. She lowered her hands to properly look at him.

"Huh?" She was confused, what did he mean?

He cleared his throat, looking at her with a determined yet shy expression on his handsome face, blue eyes shining.

"Do you want to make it a reality of me being your husband by going on a date with me?"

She mumbled a little yes, but he heard it all the same. He flashed her a shy yet blindingly bright smile as he took her hand and placed a gentle kiss on her knuckles, "Then consider this our first date then, my lady."

Her heart couldn't handle this gorgeous man...

□■□■□■□

@teafairyartandmore

#gepard x reader #gepard landau #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #fem reader #gepard #honkai gepard

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fountainpenguin · 6 months

Text

BigB and Joel Secret Life Ep 1 commentary:

lskdfj BigB charming Scar and then telling him that he only wants him for his diamonds.

Jimmy: "Your challenge is to get someone to fall in a hole, right?" BigB: "You in particular. You're right on time." Jimmy: ":'D??"

BigB making Jimmy turn around and then hiding under a ledge and you can hear him trying to muffle his giggling...

<3 Sharing gold with Grian, the sweetness of Grian chirpily calling him "B" when he comes around the corner. BigB all "I'm going to get a very nice iron chestplate like you." We love chill secret soulmates hanging out.

The incredible amount of gaslighting BigB does this episode, it's just... It's SO much funnier seeing this from his POV, because originally I thought he was just being secretive because he was still under the oath. But no, he's freed from his secretkeeping requirements... he's just Like That for no reason. crying.

BigB: "If you want to use the secret tunnel, just ask." Grian: "??? I did ask? You said no?" BigB: "I changed my mind." Grian: "WHAT??" BigB: "That's all you need to know." Grian: "What."

skldjf it really does keep going. This was in Grian's POV too but I can't emphasize enough how much funnier it is knowing BigB is free to reveal but just... won't.

Scar: "Are you the one who made the big hole?" BigB: "No." Grian, losing his entire mind because they just had a conversation about the hole like 30 seconds ago: "?!?!?" BigB: "I didn't do it. There is no hole here." Scar: "... I went down and there's an enormous hole here." BigB: "I didn't do it. It was Jimmy." Grian: "????"

Love them.

Hold on hold on hold on. BigB, are you seriously dropping "My base is going to be a corridor of doors" with no context and you're just brushing past that like that doesn't sound unnecessary and insane.

His base is so creepy, he's just got double doors all the way down the wall slkdfj. He wants to run an underground hotel. No one is making him do this. This is a death game. BigB, what on earth?

---

?????? Joel's task was to find the worst time to plug Life series merch? I like how he read that and immediately refused to plug merch for the next several minutes. There's not even a penalty for plugging it appropriately, he's just stubborn.

Joel screaming and running towards a baby zombie while spitting the fastest possible Life merch promotion and taking random swings and covering his screen with big moving Sale stickers and blinky text and explosions... He understood his job.

Lizzie @ her husband: "My heart is worth more than a porkchop and a feather."

Lizzie, within earshot of Joel, who is a beaten-up porcupine after taking 4.5 hearts of non-regenerating damage while protecting his wife from skeletons: "Thank you, Pearl :)"

"Screw tools."

I'm very excited Joel made a big deal about assigning his water bucket to his 9th inventory slot "for the rest of its days," because I know I had a moment in one of my 'fics where he mentions he has a preferred placement for his water bucket but I couldn't be bothered to watch back and see if that was true sdljkf. This works great.

Already pointed this out in my Etho POV commentary but <3 Joel meandering up to Etho like "Remember Boat Boys? Surely that's worth a heart." / Etho: "You own my heart, Joel."

I enjoyed the dramatic music he played while building his fence

"Nighttime is pretty good to get people in inappropriate situations." Joel???

Joel, screeching and flailing and trying to kill multiple creepers that he personally lured in: "Make sure you buy the merch, Mumbo!!! Just make sure you buy it!!" / Mumbo: "???"

Joel getting back up to 30 hearts for about .5 seconds before dropping back down... Poor sad boy.

Spider had an effect so that's probably our full moon night; good to know for my "full moon strengthens mob hybrid traits" fanfic worldbuilding. In Double Life we normally had the full moon early in the week so maybe we'll have it pretty late in this one?

Joel ripping a flower away from two bees that were using it

Lizzie: "Fabulous behind!" / Joel: "???"

sdlkfj Martyn's despair when he falls off Mumbo's house and takes damage is somehow so much funnier from Joel's perspective... he sounds SO brokenhearted

I appreciate how Joel suspected Impulse's task was to get other people to put cherry petals / cherry saplings in their base so he immediately tried skewing this to his advantage by requiring payment

I will be interested to see if the players end up calling people out on their tasks or not, because there were definitely a few times tasks seemed pretty obvious (like Lizzie's poem) and there doesn't seem to be a penalty for calling someone out incorrectly. I wonder if they're just playing nicey-nice for now. Will be interesting to see if they start turning each other in later in the series.

#Secret Life #trafficblr #Joel Smallishbeans #bigbst4tz2 #Grian #Lizzie LDShadowLady #EthosLab #Boat Boys #secret soulmates #Secret Life SMP #Secret Life spoilers #mcyt #Secret Life SMP spoilers #traffic life smp #traffic spoilers #Riddle watches Traffic #BigB

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creative-heart · 1 month

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"The one that got away" Enzo Vogrincic x fem! reader

A/N: Hi! this is the first thing I’ve written in so long, so please be nice. If you have any constructive criticism it’s always welcomed, if it comes from love and respect. I really hope you like this, it’s inspired in kind of a mashup between “The one that got away” by Katy Perry and “Bride or groom” by India Parkman. it’s also written in a third person POV.

Warnings: Basically Angst, all angst, mild drinking. Whatever is in italics is thoughts.

Word Count: 1.6K

The one where reader never spoke up for her love towards Enzo

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had always been them two against the world, ever since kindergarten when Y/N being the bubbly extroverted redhead girl she had always been, all but adopted sweet shy Enzo, since day one they had been inseparable. Y/N's mom even started calling them June and Johny as they became teenagers, always up to some innocent mischief -from stealing the leftover vodka from the liquor cabinet to grabbing their parents car keys in the night to go take a drive around-.

It had been so gradually that she had fallen for Enzo that Y/N couldn’t pin point the exact moment, maybe it was after the redhead called him crying at 2 in the morning because that douchebag boyfriend of hers broke it off at 15, or when he ran to the store for the first time to get her tampons cause she had ran out on a Sunday afternoon, and now, here they were.

“Last day of summer” Y/N sighed looking off into the sunset, while she sat beside the raven haired guy on her parents house roof like they always did “who knew highschool would come and go so fast”.

“And you are abandoning me, breaking a 15 year old promise to never leave me alone…” Enzo retorted in an overly dramatic way just to make his best friend laugh,“I always knew you would leave though, that I would have to face this horrible world alone” and laugh she did while rolling her eyes nudging his side playfully.

“Not my fault you’re bound to be the next big screen hearthrob, and I need to go off to college, not all of us are made for stardom”, she absentmindedly passed the bottle to him before turning slightly to look at that beautiful face she had grown to love, Y/N bit the inside of her lip, once again arguing with herself trying to decide if she should tell him she loved him or not - come on Y/N don’t be such a fucking coward, he’s right here, tell him-, she opened her mouth and took a deep breath she was going to do it, she finally would, when his phone rang.

“Well, that’s me, my brother’s downstairs” he huffed standing up placing a kiss on the top of Y/Ns head “see you later fireball” he chuckled as he got off the roof carefully, the nickname he had given his friend when they were kids still made him laugh to this day, the girl hummed nodding and watched him leave.

~~~~~

Life got busy, and they saw eachother less and less with every passing year. Not that anything changed when they did get to hang out, some things never change -how handsome Enzo was, or how much Y/N loved him for example- their friendship was the exact same that it had always been.

Y/N tapped her fingers anxiously on the table in the corner of the cafe where they had agreed to meet, five years had gone by and the freckled face woman still felt the same butterflies in her stomach when she was seeing him -he lived in Madrid fulltime now it made it easier for work and she was still back in Montevideo, she was working in a big time law firm, everyone knew she was gonna be a lawyer since forever, always had an argument for everything-. She looked at her phone again and sighed, he was already fifteen minutes late, he never was, she thought maybe this time, life had gotten too busy -he’s clearly not coming, don’t blame him though, he must be so busy- she thought to herself, as she was gathering her stuff to get up, she felt his hand on her shoulder and his usual kiss on the top of her head.

“Sorry fiery, I’m so late, parking in Madrid” he laughed- that oh so enchanting sound that always made her heart skip a beat-, as he sat down across from his lifelong friend. She smiled, everything was forgiven as soon as he looked at her with those dark eyes of his.

“Thought fame had finally gotten to you and you weren’t coming” she pouted while setting her phone back down, she looked at Enzo’s face, something was different, she could tell, something had been different for a bit now, and the change of scenery did nothing to apeace her mind. He rolled his eyes with a warm smile plastered on his face.

“I would never miss the chance to see my best friend are you crazy?” he smiled at the waiter as he brought over the coffee he had ordered on his way in. He took to stirring the sugar in it for way too long, trying to find the words of what he needed to tell Y/N, she looked at him, a tilt in her head, there was something wrong, she could tell, she knew him too well.

“spill it” she said keeping her eyes glued on him he chuckled “you know me to well Y/N/N” he looked up and smiled at her -here goes nothing- he thought.

“I’ve met someone… well…more than met, I have a girlfriend, her name is Marina” he smiled at the mention of her name, Y/N gulped, and forced a smile on her face- she was dying inside, but she would never let it show, not to him, not when he looked this happy. “We met a few months ago, through some mutual friends, she’s a doctor, you will love her. She loves cats and painting, just like you, I can’t wait for you to meet her” he kept rambling on about Marina, he couldn’t help himself, she was the best woman to ever walk this earth besides from Y/N, he KNEW they would get along well- he wanted them to at least, they’re both too important to him in one way or another.

Crap, you’re an idiot, you’re a fucking idiot she kept repeating to herself, Y/N felt her heart sink to the bottom of her stomach, each word her friend said taking it a bit lower, if she had only been braver on that roof when she had the chance- Smile Y/N- she reminded herself, her friend- that word stinging more than it had ever done now- was happy and that was the most important part…right? right.

And he had been right, Y/N eventually met Marina, and she was a sweetheart, and she loved Enzo, it showed, Y/N knew by the way the blonde looked at him that she loved him, because it was the same way she looked at him.

~~~~~

Y/N would be lying to herself if she said she never wished Enzo and Marina broke up, she never lost that hope, relationships not always worked out…hers didn’t at least. But they hadn’t, they seemed to be the perfect power couple, so when her Johny had told her they were getting married and asked her to be his best woman, she couldn’t say no, she had to be honest, another five years had gone by and the sinking feeling in her gut had never left, it was there every time she saw a picture on his instagram of them two, it got worse every time one of her relationships failed, it just never left.

The twenty-eight year old, fearless woman, who no one wanted to come across in court, somehow felt small and fragile while she looked at herself in the mirror and took a deep breath forcing a smile on her face while finishing her make-up “okay, listen up you”- she gave her reflection a peptalk while she got ready- “you had your chance, you were too scared to take it, it was there and you let it slip away, you have no right to ruin his happiness you’re gonna stand there, you’re gonna be the friend Enzo needs, and you’re gonna tough it out”, the last part coming out shaky as she suppressed a sob, she downed the last of her wine glass and walked out.

She knocked on his door “En, you ready?” she said slightly opening it, just enough to see the most handsome man she had ever seen standing there fidgeting with his bowtie, she laughed and walked in “come’ere, let me help” she turned him around and fixed it for him “there, handsome as ever my dear Johny” she smiled softly looking at him.

“I’m ready Junie” he smiled a warm, soft smile at her walking out and making their way to the gardens where the ceremony would take place.

As she walked down the aisle, Y/N couldn’t help but think what would have happened if she had been braver that hot day of summer ten years ago- if you had only said something, if you had spoken when you opened your mouth- she reprimanded herself as she walked and took her place beside the love of her life, not in the way she would have wanted, not in the way she still dreamt of every so often, but in the way she could.

When the music started and Marina made her way out, that’s when she finally understood, it didn’t matter what she felt, she could wonder all her life what would have happened if -she probably would if she was honest with herself for once- what would have happened if she’d only been braver, would she be the one walking down the aisle to meet the man she had loved for over ten years, the man she still loved to that day? that was something that she would never know, for now, she could only look at the Johny to her June, and fake the brightest smile as the love of her life, married the love of his.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: aaarrghhh I’m so sorry about ending it on a down note, it just didn’t feel right to turn it all around, and it being inspired in those songs, wasn’t a happy ending, don’t hate me! please?

#enzo vogrincic fic #angst #Y/N #fanfiction #mutuals #lsdln cast #lsdln x reader #enzo x reader #love #creative heart

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agentrouka-blog · 11 months

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Can you elaborate on “maybe show her (Sansa) being actually valued by a single character in their POV” - don’t you think that ever happens in AGOT?

Rarely, vaguely, too late in the game? Plus, it's competing with family members actively voicing disapproval or open chastisement.

Sansa being described as "charmed and gracious" by Cat is fairly impersonal, Jon describes her as "radiant" which is sweet but fleeting, Ned describes her as "only eleven" then spends the rest of the book dismissing her every concern or snapping at her until she's used as a hostage against him. Bran has the grace to remind Robb that "she's lost her wolf" when he's all "what's wrong with the girl", and Jon has the grace to include her in his musings about his sisters' safety. Pit that against Arya's projection of a Mean Older Sister who has everything? Arya who is showered with attention and affection from Jon and Ned, is "friends with everybody" and has four heart-to-heart conversations about her feelings, and is praised by a supercool sword master who sacrifices himself to save her life.

The only character who consistently at least approves of Sansa or prioritizes worry over her is Catelyn, whom many readers are also biased against because GRRM was so heavy-handed in her scene with Jon. It doesn't confer the same sense of undisputed value to be loved by a character who isn't unquestionably sympathetic. Same with Evil Bully Jeyne. The only person who bothers to have ANY serious conversation with Sansa at all is the Hound! The only one!

I'd be grateful to be reminded of more positive examples, but ultimately, the lack of affection toward her that GRRM built in, is pretty unfortunate. Many readers take it as confirmation that she must somehow deserve it. Many don't even realize how lonely and slighted she feels, that she deserves better and is reacting to trauma and unfair treatment and neglect. Tween girls are just hysterical and dramatic, right?

Tell me a scene of Robb or Bran or Jon thinking of her with unambiguous fondness would not have changed how readers perceive her entire situation?

#sansa stark #pov trap

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karatekels · 6 months

Text

Scream For Me – Chapter 2:

I think I'm a bad person for writing this. I do have a little epilogue in my head that involves the aftercare that we don't get to in this scene (which is very important, but it's late and I know at least SOME of you have been waiting long enough), so I might write that once DDO is over. Any-hoo, enjoy!

Also, I'd recommend having Terry Silver's theme on loop, especially while reading his POV!

Part 1 Here

TW: OH BOY... Violence, knives, threats, stalking, psychological torture, begging, bondage, gagging, spanking, graphic sex, all wrapped up in a bow that isn't really consensual non-consent (at least not in a healthy way), but hey, I'm not an expert.

---

Terry’s POV:

He watches you pick up the note through his binoculars, lurking in the shadows of the garden and giggling like a madman. He was beginning to wonder if you would ever come out of the damn bath – he had snuck into the bathroom to steal your phone almost two hours ago. With your head tipped back against the lip of the tub and your eyes closed, you had looked so serene…

He hopes you had enjoyed that feeling while you could.

The emotions on your face change from a soft sweetness to confusion and then horror, and would have made a triptych worthy of any art museum if he had had the forethought to photograph you in this moment. But no matter; this was all for him anyway, and he didn’t plan on forgetting tonight any time soon.

The cards had been a particular stroke of genius, in his opinion. Taking a symbol of the sweet, considerate Terry that you know and love and perversely twisting it into a threat was the perfect way of letting you know just what you were in for.

You throw on your silk robe – a deep purple, and a compliment to his red one – over your pyjamas and leave the bedroom, and he laughs to himself again. The game had begun.

He trails after you from outside the house, watching you through the expansive windows as you move down the hall from one room to the other in search of the staff, seeing your lips move as you called for someone’s – anyone’s – attention.

But no one was coming for you tonight – no one but him.

You start to look around you nervously, quickening your pace as you start to panic, and Terry cannot wait to get inside, to taste your fear in the air. So he does just that, slipping in silently through the one window he had left open on the property; the rest of the place, doors and windows, had been locked shut, their passcodes changed and only known to himself and Victor.

You really shouldn’t have put him in this position; he hasn’t had this much fun in far too long.

Closing the window behind him, sealing the two of you inside, he stalks down the hallway towards the staircase, hearing you descending from the third floor.

You move hesitantly to the kitchen, and he follows close behind, slipping from shadow to shadow with the ease of long practice. This isn’t something that one forgot how to do, no matter how much therapy one underwent.

You spot his second card on the kitchen counter, and look over your shoulder, clearly paranoid. He wonders if you’ll be too afraid to actually pick it up, but after a long moment you force yourself to walk over to it, reaching out with trembling fingers. He holds his breath, eagerly wanting to watch your reaction as you take in the words on his card:

You can’t hide.

He times it perfectly – right as you let out a gasp, he cuts the power to the house through the app on his phone, plunging the mansion into darkness, and you let out a startlingly arousing shriek of surprise and fear. Terry had never been one to shy away from being dramatic, but he is particularly proud of his theatrics in this instance.

“Terry?” you call out, your voice quivering and higher than usual. Terry doesn’t respond, he doesn’t even blink, drinking in your silhouette in the moonlight.

“Victor, if this is your idea of a joke, I swear –”

He interrupts you with a whistle that pierces the silence, the same tune that he always whistled, and you let out a whimper, reflexively stumbling back a few steps away from the noise.

“Terry,” you snarl his name, glaring at him in the darkness, though he sees through the show of bravado; you are too terrified to move, even knowing that it’s him.

Good.

When he still doesn’t respond, your anger disappears as quickly as it came on, and he watches you bite that spot on your lower lip with anxiety.

“T-Terry, if you l-lied about being away just to go to all this t-trouble to make yourself seem s-scary, I’m going to be so mad…” you argue with the darkness, now looking in the complete wrong direction of where he lurked, shrouded by shadows. You were going to be mad at him? How precious.

You get restless standing in the silence, and dash out of the kitchen, heading back around to the stairs at the front of the house. He follows, ghosting along behind you, keeping his distance. He wanted to watch you come apart for awhile longer before he really got things going.

You walk to the foyer and grab a pair of shoes from the front door, slipping them on while looking around you the whole time.

“I’m not scared of you, Terry Silver. I’m pissed, and I’m leaving!” you announce, moving to pull the front door open and scowling at it when it doesn’t budge. You double check the lock, grabbing the handle with both hands now and tugging with all your might. He can hear your breath coming harder and faster now, as you move to the keypad next to the door, punching in the code. It flashes red, seeming to mock you, and you whirl around in panic that you weakly attempt to disguise as fury.

“Seriously!?” you growl, stomping up the stairs and heading to his office on the second floor; it still had a landline.

He grins, the moonlight making his bared teeth glow, and sneaks up the stairs after you to find a good hiding spot with a view of the office door. He waits for a minute, smirking in the shadows, then hears you let out a scream of frustration as you realize it has been disconnected. As soon as you quiet down he starts whistling again, sending you barreling out of the room, your eyes darting from side to side as you try to pinpoint him from the sound.

“Okay, that’s enough. You’ve had your fun, now knock it off!”

Even at the beginning, your anger hadn’t exactly had him shaking in his boots, but it was downright pitiful now. Did you really think that you were going to be the one deciding when this was over?

In a way, he supposes you will; once he’s got you broken down, crying, pleading for mercy and forgiveness, he’ll come back to himself, come back to you. Lick your wounds clean if you’d let him; and you would.

Still, it couldn’t hurt to kick things up a notch.

He dashes down the hall to another alcove, making sure to pound his feet against the floor, his loud steps thundering and echoing through the halls. You back away with a strangled scream, your eyes wide with fright as you track his shadowy figure before you turn and run full tilt into the East wing of the house. Terry moves after you, quickly and silently trailing after the sound of your footsteps as you move into the room housing his weapons collection.

He takes the long way around, going through the library, hearing the scraping of metal on metal as he approaches you from behind. Slipping into the room silently, you stand facing away from him, brandishing the sword at the doorway you had entered from.

“Terry, if that’s you, you’d better come out right fucking now, or I’m going to start swinging this thing.”

‘This thing’was a centuries-old katana that you had snatched off of it’s gilded kake, each piece worth more than you could possibly imagine. You had no idea how to use it, and were in far more danger of hurting yourself than you seemed to realize. And that wouldn’t do; he was the one who would be controlling your pain – He knew how to wield pain, how to use it to stretch pleasure in ways you never even dreamed were possible. And he would show you tonight.

Unsheathing the dagger at his hip, he silently raises the blade up in the air, turning it so that it reflects the moonlight onto the wall in front of you to catch your eye. You yelp, spinning around and holding the blade out in front of you – he can see the thin metal wavering in the air – and he knows he has to get that away from you quickly before you sliced yourself accidentally.

“Careful, sweetheart. You could hurt yourself,” he warns you, his voice soft and sweet and standing in harsh contrast to the circumstances.

You look at him with wide, unblinking eyes, your face lit up by the moonlight and your body vibrating with tension. You have not lowered the katana.

“Terry, what the hell are you doing?!” you hiss at him, still trying to put on a brave (or at least angry) face.

“Showing you what I’ve been keeping from you all this time, my dear,” he purrs with a feral grin, taking a step towards you. “It’s about time you saw me for who I am, what I am.”

“W-Why?”

“Because you didn’t believe I was capable of it.”

He lunges forward with the dagger, knocking the katana safely out of your hands with one swing, and you scream, stumbling away from him.

“Terry, you could have hit me!” you exclaim while he calmly sheathes the dagger. He cocks his head at you, almost offended. You were still doubting his abilities, even now?

He takes a threatening step towards you, and you scamper backwards. He follows your movements with his own, slowly guiding you into a corner; when your back finally hits the wall, you let out a whimper, your eyes filled with pure terror.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Y/N,” he coos, closing the distance between you. “I would never hurt you. You know that, don’t you?” he asks, his voice oh-so-innocent as he cages you in with his body.

“I-I… Yes,” you breathe, even as you press yourself further against the wall, away from him. He grins wolfishly, erasing the space between you by pushing his body flush against yours and feeling you shudder at the contact. Slowly and so gently, he reaches up with one large hand to tuck your hair behind your ear, and you let out a shaky breath, your eyes fluttering closed.

That same hand wraps around your throat, pinning you in place, and he leans down to whisper in your ear.

“But you know that I could now, don’t you?” he whispers, feeling your choked gasp through his fingertips around your neck.

“Terry, you’re scaring me,” you confess in a tiny voice, your eyes shut tight.

“Good.” He licks the shell of your ear and you shudder against him again, letting out a primal cry of fear. Suddenly, his weight is off of you and he’s pulled you by the arm, flinging you in the direction of the doorway.

“But I’m not done proving it to you yet.”

---

Reader’s POV:

This was a nightmare.

You can’t remember ever being this scared; you’ve never come close.

Your Terry, your loving, doting Terry… had this really been inside of him all along?

Looking at him now, his hair back in a messy ponytail, dark clothing that helped him blend into the night, his eyes shining brighter than the moonlight streaming through the window, he’s like a demonic creature, looming over you and waiting to strike. Your heart is pounding so loudly you can’t even think straight.

“Terry, you don’t need to prove it to me anymore, okay? I was wrong,” you say, trying to reason with him.

“Words are actions, and actions have consequences.”

“Terry, can we please stop this? I don’t want this,” you try for begging instead.

“Oh but sweetheart, you do.” The confidence with which he says it nearly has you questioning yourself.

“What? No, I –”

“Why haven’t you used our safeword?” he asks you bluntly, giving you an indulgent, mocking smile.

“I…” you start, but trail off when you couldn’t think of an excuse. Why hadn’t you?

You had known that this was Terry almost immediately; the notes had been in his handwriting, only he could empty the place of the staff, the haunting whistling was the tune he whistled.

Was it because you knew it was him and that, terrified as you were, you did believe that Terry wouldn’t actually hurt you? Even so, he was still frightening you more than you would have thought possible…

Or was it the knowledge that if you weren't you, if you didn't mean what you did to him, he could do absolutely anything to you and you would be powerless to even try stop him, and that a part of you wanted this dark, twisted side of him to have his way with you, to own you just as the rest of him did?

Arousal burns through your adrenaline at the thought. Oh.

“There she is, there’s my girl,” he purrs, sounding proud as you realize what he clearly had ages ago. Strangely, the knowledge that your life isn’t in danger doesn’t have you feeling relieved; you’re still on edge, you’re still paranoid, you’re still scared.

“I’ll give you a ten second head start this time, babygirl,” he informs you, staring at you like you’re prey, “and trust me when I say you’re going to be hurting tomorrow if I catch you.”

Your mouth goes dry, and you don’t waste any time, turning and sprinting away from him. Where could you even go? He would hear you, he would find you, he was so much faster…

But you were smaller.

You fly down the stairs to the main floor, frantically looking around you. Where could you hide that Terry wouldn’t look, or think to look? You had to hurry; your time was almost up. You hear him start to whistle the same chilling tune, a tune you’ll never be able to hear again without thinking about tonight, and start to panic as you slide into the living room.

There.

The fireplace. You think back to the other day, of Terry telling you that he had once climbed into a fireplace to hide, when he had broken into that old man’s house for information for his crazy revenge plan. It would be uncomfortable and unpleasant; and he would never suspect it.

Plus, there was a sweet sort of poetic justice to evading him using the methods he had told you about during the conversation that had started this whole debacle. You were determined to wait him out, all night if you had to. Trying not to make a sound, you drop to your knees, crawling into the pitch-black and feeling your way around. You're grateful you still have your shoes on, at least, though you’re pretty sure your favourite robe is ruined from the ashes as you manage to tuck yourself into a corner.

You hear him descend the staircase at a leisurely pace that makes a shiver run down your spine. Something about him acting as though he had all the time in the world was incredibly unsettling. You strain your ears, trying to listen for any sound of him approaching, and then you see his legs walking past you, through the living room and towards the kitchen.

You hold your breath, and don’t blink, not relaxing until long after he’s disappeared from view.

You slowly let out your breath, your head falling onto your knees. Hopefully you had some time before he came around again…

---

You have no idea what time it is, or how long you have being sitting curled up in the coals, but your whole body is cramped and aching. Maybe you could slip out just for a minute or two, just to stretch...

You would just stick your head out, just to listen for the sound of his footsteps, or that damned whistling again. Like a turtle coming out of its shell, you slowly stick your head out of the fire place, your head turned to look at the door. It seems like the coast is clear…

You go to turn back, to slowly step out of the fireplace and not get caught on the grate, but he’s there, squatting on the balls of his feet, looking down at you with a devious smirk on his face.

“Gotcha.”

You’re too startled to even scream, your mouth opening and closing wordlessly as you try to scramble back into your protective cavern like an animal. But Terry is on you immediately, one hand grabbing a fistful of your hair and the other snatching up your wrist, roughly yanking you out from under the mantle and throwing you onto the couch in a heap.

Before you can recover, there is an ominous ripping noise, and he slaps a strip of duct tape over your mouth none too gently. You can’t help but try to scream through it despite knowing it’s useless.

“Can’t have you waking the neighbours now, can we?” he jeers, laughing at you as you thrash against him as he tries to bind your hands behind your back, wrestling you into place. As he pins you down, you feel his hard cock against you, and fight back a shudder. This was really getting him off.

“You thought that you could just curl up and hide from me? Poor little thing; you never stood a chance,” he mocks as he pulls you up onto your knees, your arms now useless. Grabbing your chin from behind, Terry forces you to look at to the fireplace. There’s a half-empty glass of whiskey on the mantle. Neat, just the way he liked it.

You make a muffled, incredulous noise through the duct tape and he laughs, dark and husky, in your ear.

“You held out in your little bunker longer than I thought you would, sweet thing, but I was right out here waiting for you the whole time.”

Hot, embarrassed tears slide down your face, adding to the horror boiling up in the pit of your stomach. You’d thought you had been so cautious, so clever, and he had been watching and waiting the whole time as you sat huddled up with the ashes, terrified.

Terry grabs your upper arm, dragging you back to the fireplace and pointing down to the floor. Forcing your gaze downwards, you see charcoal residue all over the floor.

"If you were anyone else, I'd have you cleaning the dirt you just got all over my floor with your tongue. Instead, your cheek can wipe it up while I make you mine.”

A feeling of angry revulsion washes over you, and you manage to wrench your arm out of his grip and charge towards the couch, leaping over the back of it despite your body’s protests at the sudden movement. You take a couple of steps backwards, keeping the couch between you and Terry, not that you think it’ll do you any good.

He laughs delightedly, clapping his hands in front of him.

“This is why I was so captivated by you the first time we met, Y/N. You’re so fiery – no pun intended – even when you’re so obviously outmatched. You never know when to give up.”

You’re thrown off balance by the strangely-timed compliment, and it gives Terry the opportunity to hurdle the couch with ease. You turn to run but are far too late, and he kicks out at the back of your knees, grabbing hold of you before you can hit the ground and sending you sliding across the floor.

The way he does it is so measured and precise, and while you can appreciate that he doesn’t want you to be really, seriously hurt, it isn’t lost on you that he knows exactly how to do this for a reason. The same knowledge and skill he’s using to bat you around like a cat with a ball of yarn could be used to break you, and that little bit of insight is what has you giving up, curling up on the floor with your hands bound behind your back.

Terry’s booted foot wedges itself underneath your hip, lifting you up and rolling you onto your knees. He tangles a hand in your hair, keeping you facing forward while he comes to kneel behind you, and you’re not proud of the thrill of anticipation that runs through you.

His other hand comes around, slowly and gently untying your robe and pulling it open. He gropes you roughly over your pyjamas, and you let out muffled moans before he abruptly pulls his hand away.

“I thought I had taught you to not bother with pyjamas, Y/N,” he tsks as if disappointed. “Now I’ve got to ruin them.”

He brings his hand up in front of you again, this time clutching the dagger he’d had earlier. You arch away from it reflexively, and Terry’s grip tightens in your hair as he presses the cold face of the knife to your collarbone.

“Stay still, little doll. We don’t want any accidents,” he hisses in your ear, and you tilt your head back, baring your neck and trying to stay still. He slips the blade slowly between your breasts, and your breath hitches as he slices through fabric of your pyjama top with ease.

“That’s it,” Terry coos approvingly. “Head down.”

You immediately tuck your chin, and feel him brush your hair over your shoulders. He teases the knife at the nape of your neck, and you clench your thighs and your teeth, fighting to keep still as you feel him slice the back of your robe, the tip of the blade ghosting along your spine. He sets the knife against the floor, grabbing the two halves of the robe and pulling them away from your body.

You lunge forward in one last attempt at freedom, but he grabs your ankle, pulling you backwards and yanks your pyjama bottoms down to your ankles, impeding your motion.

“It’s almost like you want me to hurt you, Y/N,” he snarls, spanking you hard and making you leap forward again with a muffled groan.

“You do, don’t you?” taunts you, spanking you again. “Such a filthy fucking slut, even after all this.” Your eyes roll into the back of your head. Without the duct tape, you think you’d be drooling all over the place. Terry’s dirty talk always drove you wild, but degrading you like this while you laid on the kitchen floor, bound and gagged and covered in soot, nearly has you passing out.

“Show me how much you want it, baby,” he demands, and you don’t hesitate, immediately spreading your knees and dropping your head and shoulders to the floor, arching your back as much as you can to show him your slick entrance. Your nipples and one of your cheeks press against the cold floor and you whimper, looking back at him with pleading eyes.

Terry is staring down at you with dark eyes, his lips slightly parted and an almost feral expression on his face, curls of hair falling out of his ponytail and framing his face.

“Christ, you’re perfect,” he breathes. “I want to ruin you.”

You groan, so turned on you can feel your pussy leaking down your thighs, writhing against the floor and waggling your ass at him, desperately looking for some stimulation. His hands move to his belt and he quickly pulls his cock out, rock hard and leaking at the tip.

He moves behind you, one hand wrapping around your bound wrists, the other guiding his cock to your entrance and thrusting into you in one smooth motion, immediately setting a brutal pace that has you screaming as much as you can through the duct tape.

“I should always be buried inside you,” he growls, snapping his hips against yours at just that perfect angle to have you nearly going cross-eyed, your knees likely already bruised from the position. He uses his grip on your wrists to pull you back onto his cock as he fucks you, using your body deliciously. You can already feel yourself getting close.

“I can feel your cunt throbbing around my cock,” he groans, slowing down his hips to pound into you with hard, deep thrusts. “You’re coming so quick just from being used. Such a dirty little girl,” he hisses approvingly, and you see stars as you clench around him, coming hard with a shriek.

Terry doesn’t give you a moment’s rest; in fact, he increases his pace again, moving his hand from your wrists up to your hair, pulling your head back with a fistful and making your spine bow even more. You swear you can feel him in your heart, he’s fucking you so hard, and you let him know how good he makes you feel, screaming until you’re dizzy from the lack of oxygen.

“You know I love you gagged, but I want to enjoy every scream from that pretty throat.”

He unceremoniously rips the duct tape from your mouth, likely taking a layer or two of skin with it, and you scream in pain even as you suck in deep breaths of air.

“Terry, pleeease!” you groan out, your voice hoarse and raspy. He releases your hair, letting you slump to the floor, so he can grip your waist, his large hands nearly wrapping completely around it. Your head hits the ground hard enough to sting, but it only adds to your perverse pleasure as you sob at the overstimulation.

“My little fucktoy wants to come again, huh?” Terry snarls, using his bruising grip to pump you on his cock. You wail, unable to articulate a response; you can’t think straight, you barely have the wherewithal to remember to breathe.

“I’m gonna make that pretty pussy come on my cock again, and it’s gonna milk every drop out of my cock, isn’t that right?” You nod frantically, but that’s not enough for him.

“Dirty girls with greedy little cunts beg nicely to get pumped full.”

Fuck, he was filthy.

And you know it means he’s close.

“Please Sir, I need your come!” you beg desperately, barely hanging on. “I’m a good girl, fill me up!”

He comes with a roar and you follow after, the feeling of him coming deep inside you sending you right over the edge. You clamp down around his cock, making him hiss with pleasure that teeters right on the cusp of pain.

“Oh fuck yes, Y/N!” he pants, still thrusting erratically into you, “My good girl.”

“Thank you, Sir!” you moan, the words coming out as natural as breathing.

“Now every time I fuck you, you’ll remember exactly what I’m capable of, isn’t that right love?” Terry coos down at you once he catches his breath, kissing your sweaty shoulder as he cuts through the duct tape on your wrists.

You’re too spent to nod, let alone speak, and settle for a wordless moan of agreement, letting yourself slump to the ground, whimpering as more of your bare skin hits the cold floor.

You don’t remember how you get to bed, but it comes back in bits and pieces eventually.

*whistles innocently and walks away*

#thomas ian griffith #terry silver #terry silver x reader #cobra kai #dark desires october #fresh start #graphic smut #smut #extremely dark #cnc?#hard to tell with these two #i love them so much

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oz-qwin · 2 months

Text

AYYYYYY!! Alright, let's get this started! Big art dump!

These 3, names are created out of letters already in their og names, and no this pic is not up to the correct size. (I think)

From left to right,

Silow- Shadow and Silver (2nd shortest, 3'6 ft)

They had the hardest design changes in color and overall vibes. But they used to be based off of rusting (from the red stripes from Shadow) metal (from Silver's- yknow silver). But that didn't work out how I wanted it to :(

Mutation- They have two mouths; it was better than the other idea that I had.

Personality- Think of a kid who loves the people they know, but isn't open to outsiders even looking at them. While still being soft-spoken and overthinks things 24/7/12/365.

Sivni- Silver and Sonic (2nd tallest, 4')

I had the easiest time designing and choosing colors for them. They're based off of clouds by just a little.

Mutation- Eyes and ears are a little funky on purpose.

Personality- Very 'air-headed', but loves playing games. Aka, Pov: ADHD if it was a person.

Sadhno- Sonic and Shadow (shortest, 3'1 ft (rip))

They are the first one I made, and have been through a lot of different changes. But they are black-light themed now.

Mutation- "Doubled eye'd", they used to have four arms, four ears, and three eyes but I decided to change/swap it out with the 'All three' fusion.

Personality- Nice and sweet with new people but is a little hot-headed when it comes to people touching their stuff.

Lavindir- Sonic, Shadow, Silver (Tallest, nearly 5'3 ft)

Add blue, red, and white together? Yeah, that's purple. And what's a fitting name for it that you can also spell out with their names? Lavender!

Gave them brown boots and gloves so that their shoes won't become off-putting colors that I don't like. I adore the colors I made for the three eyes tho.

Mutations- Six arms, a long bent tail, three eyes, and four ears.

Personality- Responsible adult who can get distracted easily.

Mainly has Shadows smarts, Silvers determination, and Sonics attachment issues. /j

And below is a bunch of older drawings of them :)

Silow used to be Silowd, but you'll be suprized what their names actually used to be.

You can see the old 'rustic' idea I had for Silow too. And Sivni used to have the double ear thing for only this drawing.

Older drawing of the 3,

for some reason I drew Sadhno's ears big, I still don't know why, and Silow had double ears, IDK why I did that either lol.

THE BIG ONE!

With all of their old names and designs,

Like nearly the beta of Betas if I didn't include the old first drawings of Sadhno. Apparently, they're named Andso in this drawing; I do like the Nilvor and Verow names but I wanted to stick with the S starts in all of the names besides Lavindir.

This was a sketch I made right after to figure out their personalities a lot more, but I don't think Sadhno's and Lavindir's work out as well as I wanted them to.

Here's one of the beginning drawings of Sadhno, needed something to draw for dramatic lighting and now there it was.

Here's another dermatic lighting one, one of the first designs of Sadhno too.

Their gloves and shoes are horrifying.

And now last but maybe not least:

The oldest drawing of Sadhno that I have my hands on.

And yet their fit is still horrible ToT

I hope y'all liked these drawings!

#sonic fanart #sonic the hedgehog #sonic movie fanart #sonic cinematic universe #sonic and shadow #sonic and silver #shadow and silver #sonic fusions #movie sonic #movie silver #movie shadow

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streaminn · 11 months

Note

I was going to write this in Wednesday's POV, but she got to have 'Her scars are pink, Her eyes are blue' so Enid gets this one :)

(Also, I love you noticing that the pink in her hair and scars would leave and her eyes would remain. 'Her scars are pink' was just meant to be something representing Enid's colorful personality and brightness, but I don't think 'Her hair and scars and bedspread and dresses are pink, Her eyes are blue' would've hit the same. But I know what you meant. Maybe I could've fit it in as a one liner, like the "The scars would be pink, Her eyes would still be blue." I dunno.

Who knows, maybe someone could make it work.

Also, I adore reading your thoughts and reactions to my writing. It's nice to scream words of love and caring relationships into the void and have it scream praise back.)

Enid's never liked black.

That's dramatic, but when isn't she? She doesn't mind black, it can complement another color greatly! But it's so. Dull. Dead. Devoid of fun and pep and springiness.

She doesn't have a favorite color. They're all too pretty and expressive to pick just one.

Green is healing and quiet and gentleness. It's the quiet of the forest after a big storm, before the water has evaporated and restarted the water cycle. It's wet blades of grass and cold leaves.

Teal, viridian, forest.

Red is bright and loud and confident. It's here and makes it everyone else's problem and never for a minute thinks it should change itself for someone else.

Pink, maroon, crimson.

Blue is sweet and shy and humble and mysterious. Aware of it's faults and accepting of them but not yielding to them, not bowing nor wallowing in them. Forgiving and listening.

Aqua, cobalt, cerulean.

Yellow is snappy, sharp and quick and bouncy. Unforgiving in itself and yet so giving. Yellow is burning sun and relaxing dawn.

Aureolin, gold, canary.

Every color has a value. A meaning, a reason.

Except black.

Black is... sad. Dark, rainy clouds and thundering skies and decay and death and nightmares. Where's the fun? The light, the pizazz, the razzle dazzle? It's unforgiving and loud and quiet and shy and sharp and quick.

Enid Sinclair dislikes black.

---------------------------------------------------------------

Wednesday Addams is a weird roommate. That's not wrong nor mean.

She's weird as shit.

She's dark and a nightmare to be around. Quick-witted and sharp-tongued and dressed in too much black.

She's morbid, too. Obsessed with death and decay and rot and hate and sorrow.

Enid doesn't get it. Why would someone want to be sad? Angry? Mad?

It's so weird. She acts like a little pink would kill her. Like a lil' splash of gold on the cuffs of her blazer out cause her some great sickness!

At least she has some white on, other Enid fears she be better at stealth and scaring the fuck out of people.

Her freckles are dark against the pale of her nose and cheeks.

(Enid's counted them when Wednesday fell asleep at her desk once.)

(93.)

Her eyes are dark.

(So, so dark. Enid's looked so far in her eyes she knows they're gorgeously dark brown, not true black. There's flakes of gold in them. Enid wants to put gold on her cuffs and gold eyeshadow on Wednesday and watch it bring out the perfectly dark brown of her eyes.)

Her hair is dark.

(Enid wants to braid and style and touch it.)

Enid Sinclair is confused by black.

---------------------------------------------------------------

They made it to 2nd year, against whatever gods try to off them.

Enid killed Tyler.

She finds it brings her some morbid comfort. She's safe. Thing is safe. Her friends are safe.

Wednesday is safe.

Enid no longer knows how to feel about black.

Black was what she felt when she wolfed out. Decay and death and nightmares.

Unforgiving and loud and quiet and shy and sharp and quick.

Black was darkness of the crypt and the forest.

Black was what she saw when her eyes were to sensitive to look and use after wolfing out because apparently turning means kicking those senses into high gear for a bit and mom never told her because she was so confident that Enid would never wolf out and fuck why can't she just be supported by her for once-

Black is almost Wednesday's eyes and was her clothing and hair and freckles and hair and scent (dark black coffee, dark black fresh ink, dark black belladonna berries) and Wednesday's dark black personality and-

Black is a safe color.

Safe.

She didn't think she'd feel so safe around the color of death.

Enid learns Wednesday does have color in her wardrobe, she just hides it.

There's the green in the expensive gems in her earrings.

Healing and quiet and gentle.

Viridian.

She owns this really nice red jacket. It makes her exude this warmth that Enid wants to burrow into. It makes her seem more... refined. Classy. Confident.

Maroon.

She has a dagger with a beautiful blue crystal in. Enid asked what it was- Wednesday gave her an ominous "wouldn't you like to know?" Sweet and mysterious. She doesn't wallow in her faults and doesn't yield to them. When Enid breaks down in their dorm, speaks of the way her mother treats her and how she wishes she could be better for some approval for once- Wednesday listens. She listens and forgives her when she snaps. She listens and she forgives.

Aqua.

Wednesday is snappy and sharp and quick. She doesn't apologize for her existence and when Enid quietly requests affection too close and intimate for two normal friends, she gives it.

Gold.

There's black around them all, though. And that's confusing.

Her gems are surrounded by a black metal casing, hidden in dark hair.

The inside of her maroon jacket is solid black. Well worn.

The dagger has the most exquisite obsidian black handle, the sheath it sits in is black.

Enid was incorrect and correct all at once.

Wednesday's eyes are a perfect almost-black brown.

When the lights shift and hit just right, they're all black charcoal. Waiting for a spark.

The gold in her eyes are hidden and obfuscated by black.

Sometimes by an almost-black brown.

---------------------------------------------------------------

"Willa?"

"Yes?"

"What's your favorite color?"

"Pink and blue. What's yours?"

She stare at black hair in dark lighting, black clothing hidden in black sheets and throw blankets and quilts.

Black-brown eyes with little sprinkles of gold and love and warmth.

"Black."

---------------------------------------------------------------

It's silly to not have a favorite color. There's something good in them all.

There's bad in all of them.

Pick what you like most. Simple.

Enid Sinclair has a favorite color.

Enid Sinclair loves black.

-Writer Anon.

God, just JAJWUAKFUAIDKDND

I don't have a reaction image bc I don't download them but sometimes having an image helps alot so have this

IT'S SO GOOD FUCKKK

WE LOVE ENID ACCEPTING HER LOVE FOR BLACK.

Black used to be empty, of nothing except a placeholder for darkness and the bugs that hide in it. It's the creak of a rusty door in deep basement, the howl of the wind in a damp forest.

Now it's filled with the memory of a person. Black is the color that filled Enid's vision that night she wolf's out. Black is the clothes her love wears as she hugs the person most deer to her. Black is the blanket thrown over them as the moon lights the sky.

BLACK IS FUCKING AMAZING AND IDK HOW TO END IT SO JUST HAVE THAT

Imma die, this is so cute

I'm happy for them

And happy for Enid too, bc im writing her time in jail and it didn't go good at all 💀 so like, warning for Enid going insane ig

#streamer enid au #wenclair #Writing #Writer anon #HOYLSHTITITT

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finelinevogue · 2 years

Note

I don’t think Yn would be in the bottom three but I wouldn’t doubt ekin su or someone else in the bottom who stayed (like when Tasha/andrew and ekin/jay were talking) would bitch about how they can’t believe they’re least favourite and not Yn….

yeah i do agree with you!!! actually let’s play this out some more..,.

Gwen and Aria’s POV:

“Can’t believe I was in the bottom 3.” Ekin-Su was still sulking.

“Love get over yourself. Of course you were in the bottom 3.” Gwen rolled her eyes at the TV.

On the screen all the girls were in a circle on the beanbag. It was clear there was some tension in the air and things were about to explode.

“Well someone had to be.” Paige said.

“You tell her Paige.” Aria cheered on.

“Yeah, but I was expecting Y/N or someone.” Ekin-Su pointed towards Y/N who was casually sipping their water. The music changed to a dramatic tone and all the islanders looked a bit taken aback.

Gwen and Aria were shocked too.

“Is she joking?”

“Bitch, Y/N was the highest voted.” Aria laughed.

“Me?” Y/N questioned.

“Yeah. You just don’t really bring much into the villa, y’know? Like I feel like we need to be getting rid of people who add nothing.” Ekin-Su started her rant.

“Hang on, you haven’t been here from the start you can’t just pick on Y/N because you’re angry that they’re still with Harry - even after the re-coupling.” Gemma defended Y/N like the good friend she is.

“Yeah you tell her Gemma!” Gwen cheered.

“Y/N and Gemma’s friendship is so sweet now.” Aria said.

“Yeah. Y/N is just friends with anyone and everyone.”

“Except Ekin-Su.” Aria added.

“No one is friends with chuffing Ekin-Su.”

“Yeah but I think that there’s something between Harry and I, so why would I put myself at a disadvantage by not perseueing that?” Ekin-Su argued, attracting the attention of the boys.

“Yo, what’s going on over there?” Dami said, making all the boys look over towards the beanbags from the camp fire.

“Shit.” Harry said, getting up first and then all the boys followed.

Meanwhile Ekin-Su was still screaming.

“Well, Harry and I are now official. I think you should know that.” Y/N said, wanting to add that before the conversation went any further.

“And you probably only did that because you know that you couldn’t get any other guy in here.” Ekin-Su shouted, and the other girls gasped in shock.

Gwen let out a shaky breathe. Aria was about to rip the cushion apart with her hands.

“I don’t want to be with any other guy.” Y/N furrowed their eyebrows in confusion.

“Only because you’re too insecure to let Harry go.” Ekin-Su scoffed.

“Fuck me.” Tasha muttered under her breathe.

“Ekin you’re clearly just insecure yourself about being in the bottom three. Just leave Y/N alone.” Gemma spoke up again.

“All I’m saying is that the villa would be no different if Y/N wasn’t in it and I think the public were wrong about me.” Ekin-Su finished her piece, picking up her glass to drink from again.

Y/N was filmed smiling weakly at the group, before dusting off their legs and walking off back into the villa.

“Oh Y/N.” Aria pouted.

“Harry better go check on them.” Gwen said sadly.

Y/N INTERVIEW

“Um. Yeah, that wasn’t too nice to hear. I, um, maybe Ekin-Su had a point I’m not even sure anymore.”

“Baby no!” Aria whined, wanting to reach into the Tv and hug Y/N so tightly.

Outside, Harry had heard everything and walked up in front Ekin-Su.

“If you’ve come to throw a strop over your girlfriend, I have no care to listen.” Ekin-Su said defiantly, to which all the girls rolled their eyes at her.

“I’ve come to defend my girlfriend because people like you think that you have the right to talk shit about them. I don’t know what your intentions were when you picked me for re-coupling, but it was never going to happen between us then and certainly fucking isn’t happening now. You’ll apologise to Y/N later, but for now just leave them the fuck alone.” Harry said angrily, before walking off in the direction of the house.

TASHA INTERVIEW

“Obviously I really like Andrew… But Harry tonight… Phew. Wow. That was hot.”

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfic #ask finelinevogue #finelinevogue #harry blurb #harry styles concept #harry oneshot #li universe finelinevogue #love island harry styles blurbs #loveisland!harry #finelinevogueloveisland #harry styles blurbs #harry styles angst

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familyvideostevie · 2 years

Note

AHHHHHHH no good at waiting is well & truly my fav au it’s just so perfect!!!!!!!! i know ppl have requested seeing steve’s pov when y/n FLEES but i don’t think my little heart can take anymore angst………. would love to see something about maybe y/n moving into his lil loft with him or something sweet🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

thank you thank you thank you!! i'm with you on the angst haha, it makes my heart hurt! so here's some fluff of bee girl not quite moving in but steve giving her keys instead <3

steve gives bee girl the keys to his loft, 1k a no good at waiting one-shot | au masterlist ___ It's cold. You're almost through winter but the chill clings to everything. You're cold when you wake up, cold at work, cold when you come home. You're cold in the cab of the truck as you drive to Steve's and you are most certainly cold as you sit on the metal staircase and wait for him.

You really should have just gone to the farm store but you're feeling a bit too tired to speak to anyone but your boyfriend. Your boyfriend who said he'd be off almost twenty minutes ago. Not that you really mind waiting -- it's just that the staircase is frigid through your clothes and you really want to hug him and you're tired.

And then you hear him calling your name. He must have gone looking for you in the main buildings, where any smart person would be.

"I'm here, Steve!" you call. You think you hear him curse then he rounds the corner and jogs into the barn. His nose is pink and he's in a puffy coat that makes him look much cuter than he has any right to.

"God, sorry I took so long. Have you been waiting out here this whole time?" he asks in disbelief. "Christ, baby, it's way too cold for that." You know he's actually worried since he called you baby. Usually, he says that in bed, or when he's feeling incredibly tender. He reaches for you and you stand, allowing him to rub your arms with his gloved hands before he starts up the staircase with you in tow.

"If you get milk on the stove we can have hot chocolate," he says as he unlocks the door. His keys jingle and the door creaks a little when he pushes it in. "I'm going to hop in the shower but please get warm, okay? We can spoon as soon as I don't smell like cow." He makes quick work of your layers and then his own, your fingers a little too frozen to work the zipper properly.

"Unless you want to shower, too?" he asks, concern turning to teasing. "I can make room." You laugh but shake your head.

"Nice try, but I'll be fine. Another time." He sighs in dramatic disappointment but winks right after.

"I'll hold you to that." He heads for the bathroom and you tut.

"Steve," you call after him, catching his fingers before he can get too far. You shiver again and he frowns. "You didn't really say hello." You tug on his hand and he returns to you, arms wrapping around your waist as the frown turns to a soft smile.

"I didn't, did I? Sorry 'bout that." He kisses you softly, lips a little chilled against yours but sweet all the same. "Hi," he says. "How was your day?" His eyes search your face, looking at you properly for the first time since he last saw you yesterday.

"Good," you say. You tuck a flyaway behind his ear. "Just wanted a kiss. Now you can go shower." He laughs and kisses you once more for good measure before obeying. You get the milk on the stove and find his cocoa powder in the cabinet before changing into comfy clothes -- sweatpants and a hoodie from the drawer in his dresser that seems to have become yours.

You look around the apartment and see traces of yourself everywhere. Polaroids of you on the fridge, a notepad with your handwriting on the counter. Pairs of your shoes by the door and your jacket and spare gloves hanging on the rack. Your cereal brand on top of the fridge and your books on his shelves.

It kind of looks like you live here, too.

You settle yourself at the table with one of your books and wait for Steve. The chill has mostly faded from your bones in the short time it takes for him to finish, coming out of the bathroom with sweats slung low on his hips and toweling his hair.

"Hey," he says, making his way to the dresser to find a shirt. "I was thinking in the shower--"

"Sounds dirty," you interrupt.

He pads into the kitchen barefoot but no longer bare-chested. "Ha, ha," he mocks. "I was thinking that you really don't need to wait outside for me, like, ever." He moves to stir the milk and you admire the lines of his back through his shirt.

"Well, I could have gone to the farm store but I only wanted to see you--"

"Do you want a key?" he blurts out, finally turning to you. "I mean, will you use a key if I give you one?" His eyes are soft and he doesn't look nervous, exactly. He looks excited.

"Oh," you say. You stand from the chair and hug him where he stands so tight that he makes a little noise. "Are you sure?" Your mouth brushes his earlobe and he sticks his palms under your layers to rest on the skin of your back.

"I mean, look around, honey," he laughs. You feel it in your chest. "You basically live here already. And I know your own space is important so I don't want you to give that up, but I want this to be your space, too. Whenever you want."

"I'd love a key, Steve," you whisper. "Thank you." He kisses your temple.

"Wanna get the mugs?" he asks. "And I was serious about spooning, you know. That bed has both of our names on it."

You can't help it -- you kiss him one, twice, three times before you pull away to get the mugs. Someday you'll be doing this in a home you both properly share, you just know it. But for now, hot chocolate and cuddling is more than enough.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #no good at waiting

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