#what a sad freckled man is he | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

justlillythinking · 1 year

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idk where to put requests bc i barely ask for stuff on here but basically my idea was this. neteyam x human reader that is hella funny. friends to lovers type thing where he feels his responsibilities and stress slip away when hes with them. kiss kiss love confession type thing. gn or fem would be cool mookie

neteyam x human!reader imagine

1.7k words

warnings- sfw, mutual pinning, soft fluff, a little angst ? love confessions

also while writing this it was inspired by in love with you by erykah badu and boogie nights/all night by erykah badu

hanging out with the sullys is always interesting, from going on ikran rides to sneaking on missions. when lo'ak says that you should all go on a ride right before eclipse, neteyam is fast to object.

"come on bro, you know dad is going to slaughter us if we are out at eclipse, lets just go tomorrow."

spider huffs before jumping on lo'aks ikran. god, my brother is such an ass, sometimes i just want to slap him so hard he can't feel his face for a week. i give neteyam a look, us both understanding that the only way to keep our stupid brothers in line is to follow them and keep them safe. he helps me up onto his ikran and we take off after spider and lo'ak, soaring in the calm sunset.

after flying for 10 minutes, spider and lo'ak land somewhere in the floating mountains, neteyam and i follow after them. when we touch down, neteyam picks me up and sets me down; something he loves to do to remind me he’s 3 feet taller than i am.

“fucking skxawng”, i mutter under my breath. before i can even turn around to shoot him a dirty look, he picks me up by my waist with one hand, laughing at me kicking him.

“what was that you just said?” he asks, still laughing at me.

i shoot him the dirtiest glare possible, “ i called you a fucking skxawng, skxawng. now put me down before i rip your braid out.”

neteyam laughs and sets me down, walking away like i huff. we both eventually walk over to spider and lo’ak, sitting beside them and admiring the forrest. we all talk and joke around, laughing about stupid jokes and talking about rumors. we eventually get on the topic of crushes, me teasing spider about his growing crush on kiri, neteyam rolling his eyes like lo’ak complains.

“cuz, come on, that’s my sister i don’t need to know that you want to bang her bro. how would that even work anyways, a human and a na’vi??”

i sigh to myself, knowing what lo’ak says about a human being with a na’vi is true and that neteyam and i will probably never grow to something more than just being friends.

little do i know, neteyam is having the same thoughts, wanting and wishing we could be more than friends, when in reality he knows that kissing me is probably off the table because of my exopack.

the conversation between all of us dissipates as we quiet down, all thinking about different things. i stand up and brush my legs off before saying we should head back so we can be home before eclipse. neteyam agrees while our brothers sigh with “do we have too” and “just like 5 more minutes i swear.”

we eventually all start walking back to the ikrans, lo’ak and spider racing each other. neteyam and i trail behind, talking and shoving each other and laughing. i look at him, the sunset shining on his beautiful blue skin and as it gets darker outside his freckles start shining. i realize that my feelings are futile, but it’s hard to be around the most kind, loyal, protective, beautiful man and not get attached.

i sigh, realizing i have gotten caught up in my own head again. when i look back up at him i see him with a sad smile.

“what’s wrong?” i ask.

“it’s nothing.”

“well it’s got to be something, you’re not usually sad for no reason.”

he sighs and says, “really, it’s nothing. we should try to walk faster so we get back before eclipse.”

he starts walking faster towards the ikrans, making me jog to catch up. i grab his hand and stop walking.

“neteyam, please, don’t keep stuff from me. we are best friends, and when we first became friends you promised to always tell me what’s bothering you.”

“stop digging y/n, i don’t want to talk about it right now. i just want us to laugh and talk like usual right now.”

“just tell me so that i can help you and we can go back to normal.”

“i don’t want to talk about it.”

“nete please-“

“fucking stop y/n, i’m not going going to talk about this with you.”

i stand there shocked, not used to him getting angry. he walks off and i follow after him, confused as to why he’s so mad. i know i shouldn’t have pushed but it’s not like him to be so sad.

when we get back to the ikrans lo’ak and spider immediately notice that something’s off, seeing the look on neteyam’s face. when spider and lo’ak look to me i shrug and shake my head. it’s awkwardly silent before neteyam clears his throat and says, “ y/n, how about you ride with lo’ak and spider rides with me tonight.”

lo’ak and spider both whip around and look to me, about to complain about how it’s never been this way when i just shake my head. spider raises an eyebrow at me but walks over to neteyams ikran anyways. i walk to lo’aks, waiting for his to grab me by the waist to help me but he doesn’t. i climb up, and go to hold onto his waist, but i stop and hold his shoulders.

neteyam and spider take off first, lo’ak and i soon after. we sit in science for a little before he asks, “so what happened?”

i sigh, “he just seemed off. he’s been more distant and sad lately, but i guess that’s just a journey of him becoming a man.”

“yeah well he has been stressed out about the whole ‘becoming a man and choosing a mate’ thing. it’s not like there’s not 20 girls that would die for him to stick it in them,” he snickers.

“ew come on lo’ak that’s disgusting.”

“i mean, i know who im choosing when i become a man.”

“the hottest girl who wants me, duh cuz. i mean that’s skxawng has always been picky, but now it seems like he’s trying to always want what he can’t have.”

“what do you mean?”

“come on cuz, you can’t be that blind. did you notice when he started getting all whiny earlier?”

“no? i mean after we talked i guess?”

“and we talked about what...”

i pause, trying to remember.

“ummmmm we talked about how you wanted to bang that girl we saw that was healing you and neteyam’s dumb asses, we talked about how spider is never going to find a na’vi that wants his tiny ass but let’s be honest, him and kiri totally have something going-“

“no you fucking skxawng we talked about humans and na’vi, then neteyam got all whiny and shit.”

i pause, “so?”

“so who is the human that neteyam spends all his time with?”

i stop.

“you’re saying that neteyam likes me?”

“YES THATS WHAT IVE BEEN SAYING AND YOU CLEARLY LIKE HIM TOO”

i blush and laugh, “ lo’ak, there’s no way he likes me. you said it yourself, he was like 30 hot girls lined up for him.”

“he totally does like you-“

“he totally doesn’t-“

“but you like him anyways. that’s the point, it doesn’t matter if you believe me or not because we all know that you two like each other.”

we ride back home in silence, i think about what he has said. could it neteyam actually like me too? is that why he didn’t want to talk about it with me? i wonder what would even happen if he did, it’s not like we could mate.

when we land at home, i get of lo’aks ikran and thank him for telling me. i walk to my tent and lay down, thinking about how this could change everything. i should probably talk to neteyam about it instead of just mulling it over by myself.

i decide to get up and go talk to him, even though i’m scared that lo’ak could be wrong. i mean, what if i talk to him about it and tell him i like him when he doesn’t even like me back? i stand by his family’s tent, not sure if i should go it on not.

while i’m standing there thinking, i don’t notice that neteyam walked up behind me. he taps me on the shoulder and when i turn around i see that it’s him.

“hi.”

“hey?” he says, nervously scratching his neck.

“i think we need to talk, i was about to go in and ask for you.”

“i told you i don’t want to talk about it-“

“lo’ak told me you have a crush on me.”

he stares down at me with wide eyes. i can see his cheeks turn purple as he blushes and he opens and closes his mouth, trying to say something. i grab his hand, my small one grabbing on to 3 of his fingers. i walk us over to my tent, thankfully lo’ak must have gotten spider to stay away for a little.

when we go inside my tent, neteyam looks so nervous that you would think i’m trying to shoot him. he starts rambling, “ listen i don’t know why lo’ak would tell you that because i don’t have a crush on you i mean, you’re my bestfriend that would be kind of weird right? i mean not to say that you’re not funny or pretty, because you definitely are but even if i did like you, i mean how would that even work, i’m na’vi and you’re human and we probably would even be able to kiss because of your exopack and-“

i cut him off, “neteyam, i like you.”

“you do?”

“yeah, i do.”

“but why me, why not lo’ak? or anyone else?”

i look at the floor, “because i don’t want lo’ak. i want you. i want your smile and how funny you are. i want to talk to you and go on your ikran with you. you understand me like no one else. i see you nete.”

i feel a his hand on my chin, guiding me to look up at him. he hugs me, my forehead on his chest.

“i see you y/n,” he says, kissing the top of my head.

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phas3d · 3 months

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Ideal Type || Slytherin Boys

note :: just what i think, but they could honestly be with anyone

members :: mattheo riddle, theodore nott, lorenzo berkshire

Mattheo Riddle

Appearance:

Sharp eyes that could kill him, eye color doesn’t matter to him

Likes people with more meat on them

Goes crazy if he sees you wearing thigh highs or tight underwear so that you have a little bit of a muffin top, he loves that stuff

Loves dark hair, all of his celebrity crushes are brunettes or have black hair

Likes the y2k style and clean girl, he doesn’t know it’s called that but he likes it lmao

Loves long hair but will make an exception for a short black bob

Low rise jeans are his favorite thing ever

Pretty nails are also a pro in his eyes, shows that you’re hygienic - likes longer nails

Plump lips are a major plus

Likes outfits that show skin in some way, so crop tops, dresses, etc

Personality:

Slightly toxic, which is perfect for him since he’s ultra toxic 😍

He’s not willing to change his lifestyle just for a girl, so he needs someone who’s down to party and do the bad stuff he does

Loves confidence, wouldn’t date a girl who’s insecure

People with the wonyongism mindset are literally his dream type, makes him weak in the knees

If you yell back at him or call him out on his shit, oml he’s already planning your wedding

Loves to annoy you just to get a reaction, smth about you being angry draws him in

He likes social people who get along with others easily

A little bit cocky, but if you laugh at his jokes he instantly finds you more attractive

Dedicated and driven people, like not failing classes, having internships, having a job, all of that is so attractive to him

If you listen to: Kali Uchis, Tyler the Creator, Ariana Grande, Travis Scott, The Neighborhood, The Smiths, The Weeknd, BlackPink, Aespa, Beyoncé, you get so many extra points

Theodore Nott

Appearance:

Likes shorter people, which is easy for him since he’s 6’0 (183 cm)

Has a thing for people that are flatter, likes rectangle body types

Long hair is his ideal type but loves curly short hairstyles

Gets flustered when he sees you with your hair up, something about it is so appealing to him

Long lashes and falsies are so pretty in his eyes, loves it

Ballet-core, old-money, and minimalist are what styles he likes best on someone

Lovessss skirts and headbands

Likes people with glasses, but specifically people who wear contacts in public but glasses at home

People with the resting sad face are so beautiful to him

Personality:

Likes introverts or shy people, he likes knowing that you’re a homebody so he doesn’t have to worry about cheating

Nerds omg They’re his secret weakness

He loves book smart-street dumb people, it’s a sense of comfort knowing that you’re not involved in his life style

He’s a fuckboy who smokes and drinks, so you become a safe space for him

Quiet and soft voices are one of his biggest weaknesses

Elegance is also something he needs in a partner, someone who’s aware of their words and their actions

When someone covers their mouth when they laugh - So attractive to him

Caring and nurturing people make him want to cry, please comfort this man

If you listen to: Lana Del Rey, Billie Eilish, Mitski, SZA, Her, Adele, Yerin Baek, Matt Maltese, Radiohead, you get an extra point

Lorenzo Berkshire

Appearance:

Downtown girl, athletic wear, coquette, and other cutesy yet comfortable styles are his idea type

Really loves when someone can dress up in a nice ass outfit and then show up the next day in just a hoodie and bagggyyyy pants

Doesn’t really like tight clothes on his s/o, likes baggy or flowy clothes

Doesn’t care for body type, has dated people on the bigger size and people that were super thin

Loves any facial markings - moles, acne scars, freckles, but esp ance scars

Loves curly and wavy hair, doesn’t care for hair color but does prefer light colors like brown and blonde

Likes girls that look kinda intimidating because of how pretty they are, but are secretly a softie (basically him)

For example, people with a resting bitch face but the second they see something cute they light up

Being shorter than him is fine, but if he’s dead honest he’s always wanted to date a girl taller than him (185 cm+)

Personality:

Bubbly people make him fall so hard

People who are happy almost 24/7 and a little bit stupid and naive is what he loves

Doesn’t care about intelligence much, but doesn’t like people who are failing school

When you’re oblivious to flirting??? Omg he’s done

Wants to feel needed, so you being slightly air headed helps him a lot

Smiling makes him attracted to someone instantly, so constantly smiling and laughing makes him feel the same way

Loves people with a tad bit of sass to them, like eye rolls and stuff

Playful people who agree to do dumb shit with him suits his ideal lifestyle

Someone’s who funny, cause if I’m fr this man is not that funny. He def gets with someone who’s funny

He def had way too many crushes on manic pixie dream girls, so he kinda likes the chase

Likes people who are so free spirited that it’s hard to tie to them

If you listen to: Wave2Earth, Kpop, Taylor Swift, Olivia Rodrigo, Beabadoobee, Sarah Kinsley, Faye Webster, it’s an extra plus for him

#harry potter #slytherin #mattheo riddle #mattheo x reader #mattheo riddle x reader #theodore nott #theodore x reader #theodore nott x reader #lorenzo berkshire #lorenzo x reader #lorenzo berkshire x reader #ideal type #slytherin boys #god I love these guys

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milkzoro · 5 months

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should i save her? i wnna be saaaaved

🎬✧ portgas d ace x fem!reader

was it a coincidence? or were you soulmates? interesting how the two of you always manage to end up together… fireman!ace saves your panties from a house fire. unfortunately there’s no smut in this, crazy i know. mostly fluff and ace being a cutieeeee. i love him lots & don’t think he would fuck you for the first time being intoxicated… that being said, fic contains// drinking, a lil smooch, cuddles, ace being a lil tease, all that…

☁️ 𐙚 . ˙ 𖧧 ₊ ˚ 🐇

“shit shit shit!” you panicked, trying to put out the burning fire with a measly cup water you had on hand, unfortunately, that only seemed to cause it to burn brighter. the water evaporated almost immediately, and with every passing second, it got worse. the clothes that were messily piled up on your dresser were now fully inflamed, and the wood took on enough heat to finally catch fire.

“oh my fucking god? where’s my goddamn phone!” there was no reason to try and put out the fire yourself, you’d only end up getting hurt. ‘cursed candle’ you scoffed while scurrying around your smokey room looking for your phone. even if it was your favorite scent, you knew you should have thrown out that stupid candle your ex got for you.

after flipping through the blankets on your bed, you found it, immediately you dialed the fire department. “hello? hello! yes! please there’s a fire at my house my address is. . .” you’d hope they’d make it there soon, the smoke stared to suffocate you to the point where you didn’t know if you could make it out, chemicals filled your lungs and it was getting harder to breathe. . .

. . .

you felt strong arms carrying you, woodsy musk and smoke filled your senses. the man placed you down in the back of the fire truck with plenty of water before rushing back into your fire-filled house to see if there were any more casualties to look out for. luckily enough, you lived alone.

shortly after, he came back to you. he tore off his headset and revealed his soft, freckled face. you were taken aback, he might as well be your knight in shining armor for saving you, he had stains of soot covering his cheeks but still looked so pretty. . .

“i couldn’t save them all but. . . i managed to get a few.”

he held up a couple pairs of your cute lacy panties, blood rushed to your face once you noticed what they were. you were quick to snatch them away—your face fell hot with embarrassment. it really didn’t help that the man was attractive, you couldn’t even look at him. “oh! it’s fine, thank you…” the tension was thick and awkward, the man starred at you trying to comfort you on your losses.

“we managed to put out the fire, miss. your room is pretty much fine, but the dresser didn’t quite make it. . . i saved what i could.” he sighed—holding up some more of your lounge wear. he seemed sad he couldn’t save everything but you were grateful nonetheless that he did everything he could.

“do you have somewhere you can stay while we get everything cleaned up?” he peered at you, cute freckled face and dark eyes held your gaze.

“uhmm yea, i do. thank you.”

“the pleasures all mine, get some rest and please, no more candles.” he let out a hefty laugh before giving you back your delicates. yea, definitely no more candles.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

it’s a couple days later and you’re back in the comforts of your now, fire-free home. living alone was super easy, you got to do whatever you wanted whenever you wanted. if you didn’t wanna do something, that’s perfectly fine. movies and snacks all day, and that’s usually how it always went but today you had something planned.

about a week ago you had made an appointment to get your ears pierced, you favorite tattoo shop was having a flash sale on all lobe piercings so you thought it would be best to schedule ahead.

the studio was surprisingly quiet for a weekend, a few teens who were there for the flash sale and one other person, but he was faced down and getting a tattoo stenciled on across his very sculpted back.

“oh hey! i know you.” his head perked up once he heard the chime of the studio door, he watched as you stepped inside.

‘please god, tell me it isn’t him. fuck, it’s totally him.’ he smiled warmly at you, kind eyes curling up and he showed all his teeth—how could you not forget such a cute face.

“no you don’t.” you were quick to answer, but he retaliated.

“um yeah… yes i do! i saved you from that fire! don’t you remember? all your panties? sorry i couldn’t save ‘em all.” his lips quirked up slightly as he still felt bad, but his non-filtered reenactment of the events earned some confused reactions from the staff and other customers that happened to be in earshot.

“did you have to bring that up again? i told you not to worry about it, ‘m just happy i have my house back.”

“can’t i make it up to you? and i never got your name. . . ‘panties’~” he snicked at his nickname for you, seeing you get flustered made it all worth while for him. he enjoyed seeing your petrified face as he egged you on.

“shut up, and shouldn’t you be staying still? lay your ass back down.” you gestured to the table he was perked up on, the artist seemed annoyed at his movements.

“ahh, you’re right sweetheart. but, your name? then i’ll promise to let you be. . . ‘panti—’”

“y/n! it’s y/n. happy?”

“very.” he smirked your way and laid back in position effortlessly once he got his answer. the artist sighed and got back to work.

you rolled your eyes trying to suppress the smile that was creeping on your lips, he was crazy. with being a fireman you thought it was unprofessional to bring up such topics in public, but you had to admit—you kinda liked it.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

you thought you might have missed it, his long raven locks swaying as he made his way towards you, even in your drunken state, you knew it had to be him. why does he keep showing up at the most random places? this time though, he was fully determined to make his way to you and just talk. the distance was small but he stumbled all the way over. soon, you were greeted with the pretty fireman.

“wow you’re really drunk right now, aren’t you?” you couldn’t stop the giggles as you held the edge of his shoulder to keep him upright and standing, he swayed lightly with the music in the background as he sang incorrect lyrics softly to you.

you couldn’t help but smile, he was silly like this, maybe it was the drinks in your own system catching up with you but he looked really good right now.

“no mmm not. . . you’re jus really blurry-”

he let out a few of his own laughs, touching and talking with you for sometime, he really liked you.

“y/n.” he held you tight, catching himself on you before he could fall.

you were surprised he remembered your name, i’d been about a week since your last encounter at the tattoo shop. that day, he had introduced himself as ace. portgas ace in fact, lead role in the fire department in his city. he made sure to make that a know fact in hopes to impress you.

“can you take me home? think i’m too ddrunk.”

you blatantly agreed, he looked a mess. and besides, you did owe him, technically. your arm snaked around his making your elbows meet, but he shook you off. he mumbled something you couldn’t quite make out. but instead, his big hands stumbled to find your own, interlocking your fingers and he squeezed them tightly as to say he’s ready to follow you.

his simple actions had an effect on you, holding hands always seemed to be more intimate rather than something simple, like a kiss. his warmth made your tummy do flips, and his big muscles—his strong hands and arms were so close, you felt so small next to him.

you tried to take your hands from his but he whined. he missed your touch.

“wait, let me call order an uber. i’ll be fast i promise.” you found the closest car to come pick the both of you up, you just needed his address. you tried to hand him your phone, “can you type in your address? here take this.”

he groaned again. “mmmuhggg y/nnn—can’t we just go back to yours?? can’t type.” as the words slurred from his lips, they curled into a smirk. little shit, you knew he was playing it up a bit. fuck it—it’s late and it’s cold, you were ready to leave. now, you just have a friend coming with you.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

as you stepped into the coldness of night, you and ace stumbled through the streets to meet with the driver—his natural warmth kept you from shivering as he held you so close. little touches and sweet laughs were shared as you climbed into the backseat, ace stumbled along behind you, tripping on the doorstep as he made his way to sit next to you. the driver glanced back, seeing giddy intoxicated couples wasn’t out of the norm for him, the driver found the two of you endearing.

the car soon became a temporary haven for you, ace’s laugher sounded heavenly as it meshed with the purring of the car engine.

his rough hands found themselves attached to your hips, slowing rubbing up and down. with every passing second, you couldn’t help but grow attached to him. you’ve never met some like him. he was just so different from any other guy you’ve met, from his endless teasing to his charisma—how you always managed to end up together was a mystery.

he snuggled up next to you getting real close—he muttered in your ear, “wanted to tell you you looked pretty tonight,, mm watched you for awhile but was a little nervous.”

a blush crept onto your cheeks hearing his sweet nothings, ‘he was nervous?’

you felt his warmth radiating as he leaned in closer to you. his breath tainted with the smell of alcohol as his lips were millimeters from yours, but the car suddenly came to a stop. the driver interrupted just as they were about to touch. your stomach sank, you were ready to know what they felt like.

the driver turned around, oblivious to the romantic tension, and broke the silence, “here’s your stop folks, thank you and have a safe night.”

you both exchanged a look, a mixture of frustration and amusement, before gathering your things and stumbling out of the car. he soon drove off, leaving you standing on the sidewalk with a shared understanding. you hurried to get your keys and unlock the door.

as the door creaked open, you ushered him inside, the atmosphere filled with unspoken anticipation. once the door closed behind you, the playful glint in his eyes returned, and with a teasing smile, he quipped, “ahhh alone at last~ now, where were we?”

how cliche.. but that seemed to be very on brand for him—cute.

without waiting for an answer, he closed the gap and pulled you into his firm chest. this time, there were no interruptions—just the warmth of a long-awaited first kiss from your knight in shining armor.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

he’d be such a cute bf stawp

#one piece x reader #portgas ace x y/n #portgas ace x you #portgas ace x reader #portgas d ace x reader #portgas d ace #portgas d ace fluff #one piece fanfiction #portgas d ace smut #one piece fluff

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imma-queencard · 1 month

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𝕾𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖍𝖔𝖘𝖊 𝖒𝖊. 𝕯𝖎𝖉 𝖘𝖍𝖊?

Red lights (part one) Hyunjin x F.reader x Felix

Genre:Smut,yandere,manipulation. [18+Minors DNI]

Tags: @jisunglyricist @annybah @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @queenmea604 @glitchyoursoulhehe @hyunevlogs @linosssss @freckleboilix @k-minnieluv @tangerinepiee @iknowleeknow @itza-meee @sleepyxxhead @hanonlymeuu @heeyboooo @sashe-xhelse-blog @hyunjinhoexxx (comment/dm for tags)

Your fingers gripped the bedsheet helplessly as you felt an invisible demeanour penetrating your soul. Something compressing against your chest. It felt heavy. You could bearly breath,barely move an inch. Just sprawling on to the bed while whimpers leaving your lips for impending death. Are you dying? A tear escaped your eye. You swore someone was trying to rip out your soul off your body.

"St-stop..God-god have mer-mercy!" You cried out in last attempt. You heard an animalistic growl as the thing was pulled off from you by an invisible force. Crashing it against the wall opposite of your bed. The photoframe broke down from the ceiling,scattering the glasses. You screamed in horror seeing the scene in front of you.

"Lord! Lord have mercy on me!please please!" you kept repeating your words when you saw the thing turning into a seeable form. A human? You furrowed.

"I swear you on Jesus Christ!leave me alone!Jesus!" You repeated holding the blanket tight to your chest. You gulped. The thing.. The shadow shifted into a human form. A man. His black pitched eyes staring into your soul. He forced out one of his wrists from the wall. Wiping off his lips with one of the palms before sending a devilish smirk in your way. As if he pulled that smirk to see you shiver in fear.

"Sweetheart-" he took a heavy step towards you but he was pulled back again. He hissed in pain cursing the godly power that was pulling him backwards,away from you.

"Jesus christ please-my lord!" you murmured seeing it trying to reach out to you again. Your back was pressed against the bed frame then.

"I swear on your Jesus Christ that You" he paused hissing," Would. Scream. For. Me." he literally spelled out each word while his face twisted in pain, "Fuck! soon-DAMN IT!" he screamed in agony and was vanished in the air.

You could swear on your soul that last night was no hallucinations of yours. It really occured. The creature,his dark eyes...Still made you shiver in fear. But none of your friends trusted you. You tried to type something to reason out your logic to your friend circle over the phone. Maybe they would believe in your words now? But everything in vain.

You harshly threw your phone on the bed in dismay. You sighed. You stood in front of the mirror. You took out the hairbrush from the drawer. You were combing your curls absentmindedly that you didn’t notice the change in reflection on the mirror.

"None of them believed..Do I look like an idiot to brag out such things?" you murmured to yourself combing the knot of your hair.

"Whoever thinks you an idiot is the biggest idiot,darling."

Your eyes widened in shock. Your eyes frantically wandered anywhere but the mirror. And found none. You shook your head in distress. This might be another delusion of yours. You looked into the mirror and screamed in fear taking a few steps backwards. A reflection which didnt belong to you. A blonde man staring at you with the most beautiful doe eyes you had ever seen. Little cute freckles all over his nose. He tilted his head with a sad look,"not happy to see me?"

"Wha-what on earth?" you stuttered and fell flat on your ass. The man came out of the mirror to your horror and took a step towards you. You hovered back in fear. You looked at the blonde who was wearing black jacket over his black shirt. Chains after chains were wrapped around his slender neck. His blonde bangs falling over his forhead contrasting the freckles as he bend near you. His lips all puffy & red making him the most ravishing thing you had seen in a while.

"You're so beautiful.." he whispered tracing your chin with his fingers. Admiration sparkling in his eyes. You unconsciously leaned to his touch. You were hypotised in his beauty, in his aura.

"I'm not that beautiful.." you found yourseldlf mumble back.

"It’s just you don't know how breathtaking you are,Y/N.." he replied pressing his cold cheek against yours. You shivered in cold but your heart felt a weird sense of warmth.

"It's beating out so loud..." he placed his palm over your chest. "So tempting.." he complimented tracing your cleavage. You blushed under his gaze but your limbs felt like paralyzed. You couldn’t move just looking at the unreal man in front of you.

"Is it beating out so wild for me?" he asked rubbing your lips with his thumb. Signalling them to open up.

"Ye-yes." you found yourself mumble again. You heard him chuckle before he slipped his index finger past your lips. Your pupil dilated in shock.

"Suck on this babygurl,yeah?" he cooed placing one hand behind your head to push it forward against his engulfed finger. You couldn’t help rolling your tongue over his finger erupting a groan from him. He cursed and took out his finger to replace it with his lips against yours.

"My gurl is so perfect.. " he praised between the harsh kiss before pulling you off the ground. His hands started exploring all over your back as he steadied you on the floor. You moaned against his lips wanting more. His hands groped your ass pulling you further against his manhood. Your lips parted.

"My gurl wants some more?" he chuckled spanking your ass lightly. His hand traveled up to your chest and grope your breasts through your clothes,"Do you like it,mh?"

"Ye-yes.."

"Who am I to reject such beauty,huh?" he chuckled and was about to start unclothing you but suddenly your phone rang. The sudden ringtone taking you out of your daze. Your mind came to sense finally. You screamed in horror as you push the blonde off you. You quickly pulled up the laces of your dress over your shoulder

"Wha-what are you!" you screamed trembling in fear. Taking quick steps off him.

"You-Jesu-"

He tsked cutting you off,"Don't complete the word,darling"

When he saw you furrowing in confusion,his face broke into a smirk. He clicked his fingers together and you saw him getting vanished just like the demon last night.

"Wa-wait-" you tried to reach out but it was late. He was already gone. However, you heard his deep voice echoing in your room.

"babygurl,the name is felix if it concerns. "

You were crazy. Crazy would be an understatement. You were getting lunatic. Your world almost collapsed in front of you as you looked at the painting laid on the art paper. You woke up today and found it on the floor.

It was you. Naked.

Yes,naked.

Someone painted you in such indecent manner that you could barely think of. Your sleeping face lying one side of the bed. Your naked body sprawled out with your breasts barely covered with a white satin cloth. However,your cleavage was on full display while your legs rubbed up against each other as a moan leaving your lips. You didnt even miss the sweats dripping from your forehead from the outburst orgasm you were having on that art paper.

"How-how on-!Absurd!" you gritted your teeth though the blush on your cheeks were prominent.

Your face darkened and your skin hair erected suddenly. You lived alone. Who in the earth painted you and dropped it here inside your bedroom! You did check the doors,windows every night and you were sure of that.

For the past weeks,you felt someone watched you sleeping. You even felt faint touches here and there of your body as if someone was admiring you. Sometimes you would wake up the next morning to find some colors or broken nibs of color pencil split out on the floor. You did find it strange. However,everything was getting strange with you for some weeks.

Your eyes welled up clutching the painting. Something was wrong with you. You knew you hadn't hallucinated those two shadows or two men. They were real. The touches were. You felt humiliated in your own rented apartment.

"What's going wrong with me..what's gone wrong " you sobbed alone. You threw the painting away, "Fuck YOU! all of you!WHATEVER THE THING YOU ARE!" you broke down. You angrily took the painting to tear it down,then you noticed the signature. The italic letters.

Your fingers traced the words, "Hyunjin.."

After taking shower that night, you tucked yourself in your bed. You felt relieved after crying out loud in the shower for an hour. You tried so hard to tear the painting but couldn’t make up your heart to do so. There was something mesmerising, some force preventing from doing so. You could feel the passion in that art.

You snored a bit as you changed your side. You didn’t feel it's presence yet fortunately. Though the artist slowly hovered over you till his hot breath coated your skin. You moaned out sleepily as he placed some soft kisses on your neck. Your breath hitched as the soft kisses soon turned into love bites. Marking your delicate skin with his sinful teeth. Your eyes shot wide open as he bit the skin of your collarbone a bit rough.

"OH LORD!" the words slipped instantly out of your mouth seeing one of the most handsome faces hissing merely an inch away off your face. You forgot all the struggles, rather kept staring at his delicate features. His black bangs falling over his forehead. His dark eyes illuminating dominance. His sharp jawline was a cherry on top. His red lips parting a bit wide,taking it's sweet times after bruising your skin. He smirked seeing you checking him out despite your previous grudge against him.

"Hyunjin.." you were shocked that this name slipped out of lips. He offered you a sweet smile,"I knew my girl would recognise me.."

You didnt know why and how. Your mind, your body, your existence somehow knew it was the artist of that explicit painting. The man from the first night.. The more you looked into his eyes,the more you became drunk dazed. You didn’t know when he pressed his lips against you. Biting your lips for entrance. He bit your lip harsh eliciting a moan. Taking his chance to push his tongue inside. Exploring your mouth with his tongue.

"Such a sweet thing.. " he cooed. You tried to protest but you couldn’t move as if you were paralysed. You almost screamed out when he slipped his hand under your night dress. His cold fingers brushed against your breast playfully to make you escape lewd sounds for his fun. You were the toy of him. At least for that night.

He smirked and groped one of your breasts before pulling the gown off your shoulder.

"We don't need this,do we?" he chuckled and threw the gown somewhere in the room. You tried to cover yourself to save the minimum dignity that was left within you despite your desperateness. But he tsked,"No honey..They say never hide a masterpiece from an artist"

You cried out as he pinned both of your hands above your head with that. You spoke, "but-but you are not a human..."

He laughed and grind against you,"Can a human satisfy you like this?" You groaned pushing your hips up for more friction.

You were staring at this demonic man like a pervert as he unzipped his pant and freed his erection. You badly wanted to cover your eyes,push that heavenly monster off you but rather you were oggling at him. As if you were under some spell. An incubus' spell.

He called you a masterpiece but the actual masterpiece was there in front of you - hovering over you like a spider.

"You have been eyeing for quiet some time,sweetheart" he mumbled against your ear giving you a hard spank.

"I-im sorry!" you cried out. None ever humiliated you to this extent.

"I dont think you're enough sorry for eye fucking an incubus.." he tilted his head with another spank on your ass. You hissed in both pain and pleasure, "I-I am.."

"If you're sorry,scream my name the whole night." he smirked running his thumb over your clit wetting it more," I want every fucking incubus of this world to know who's fucking you inside these four walls"

He groaned pushing two fingers inside of you. You squirmed around his digits. "Hyunjin.."

"Yeah sweetheart?" he asked curling his fingers inside.

"Too-too deep!"

"But sweetheart it's still just my fingers.." he chuckled increasing his pace. You were a crying mess back then. Gripping your sheets frantically as your stomach felt tingling inside.

"I-Im -Hyunjin I'm-" you screamed his name feeling your orgasm near. You were on the ecstasy, too high to think what your neighbours would say about your late night screams.

"HYUNJIN-GOD-whaat?" you looked at him in shock when he suddenly pulled out his fingers. "Why would you PULL OUT!" You screamed in agony. You were frustrated about the knot forming inside. Your whole body was on like needles,aching to come out and flood his sinful fingers. And there he was. Smirking at your helplessness.

He just laughed out in response before lining up his thick cock at your entrance. You bit your lips to suppress the moans as he pushed the tip throughout your wet walls.

"Gosh!you feel so tight!" he groaned against your ear while pushing his whole length inside. His fingers intertwined yours. He didn’t even give you time to adjust rather started thrusting his hips into you.

"HYUNJIN!"

"FUCK YES!Scream my name like this baby" he muttered under his breath increasing his pace. His huge cock was hitting your cervix each time. You were a moaning mess wrapping your legs around his thin waist. Everything about him was perfect. His sculpture, his demeanour & also his cock..

You cried out in pain as his girth spread your cunt apart. You were screaming his name in pleasure. No one had ever fucked you like this. So much pain yet too much pleasure.

Your eyes rolled back as he pulled out for a mere second,only to push back his cock in double force.

"FUCK! Like this-"

"Open those damn eyes and look at me. You gotta know who's ruining you" he growled and thrust harder. Your fingers dug into his flesh. Tears started rolling down your cheeks. The pleasure was too much. Everything around you was shaking so was your greedy body..

You felt your pussy wall clenching around his cock. A knot forming on your lower abdomen. He chuckled,"My sweet girl is gonna cream my cock, hm?"

You nodded biting down your lips,too ashamed to confess.

"If you wanna cum, you need to answer me or I stop" he threatened rubbing your already sensitive clit to make you whimper. He was really testing your patience.

"Please-im-I wanna cum!" you pathetically begged moving your hips back and forth against him. The last thing you wanted to remain undone. You gripped his shoulder, afraid of him leaving you undone again, "Please hyunjin...?" you meowed staring into his red eyes.

"Be specific with your needs baby " he hissed giving you a rough thrust as his fingers twisted your nipples.

"I-I want to-I want your cock.." you couldn’t even finish before his growl interrupted you. He took upon his pace and rocked his hip into you. Your fingers dug onto his shoulder. Your lips parted wider in pleasure as another knot formed into you.

"I-I'M CUMMIN-" you screamed out the words when you came onto his cock. He smirked placing french kisses on your face while taking out his cock in and out of your sensitive cock.

"Too-too much can't!" you squirmed underneath him.

"I still need to ruin you with my seeds,babygirl" he growled and with a few more strokes hitting your gspot, he reached his orgasm. He grabbed your chin and pulled you into a rough kiss. He steadied his cock deep into your cunt as he unloaded his cums into you. Pushing his so called seeds deeper into your cunt. You moaned against his lips feeling the sudden warmth of his juices inside

"Such a sweet cunt taking every seed of me" he chuckled in your ear pushing his juices deeper.

He took his sweet time before pulling out his wet cock. He then placed two kisses on your both eyes patting your hair,"sweet girl with sweet cunt deserves her sweet sleep now"

You were sleeping like a dead body after your cursed out sex with the first incubus. Hyunjin was lying beside you playing with your hair. He was humming a tone while tracing your cheeks. Tricking you into a deep slumber.

"You know you can come out of your hiding now" he chuckled looking at the mirror. Then all of a sudden a strong blow of wind rushed out of the mirror scattering one or two things off the bed side table. The flower vase fell into the floor and you groaned at the sound. Clutching more to hyunjin's side while sleeping as if you were his pet. He patted your back,"ssh,sleep sweetheart"

"Wow easy there felix.." hyunjin hissed as felix's aura lunged at him-stopping just an inch from both of you.

"We dont want our princess to wake up,do we?" hyunjin reasoned with a smirk.

"Our princess,huh?" felix chuckled back before his eyes turned red completely.

"No,my bad. My princess.. " hyunjin replied with a smug look and placed an intentional kiss over your forehead causing Felix to growl. He left your side and walked over the mirror to only get attacked by felix. Felix was now grabbing his neck against the mirror,his fangs threatening to come out.

"She already chose me,Felix. Just back out already. " he coughed out.

"Oh!did she?"felix started laughing and unhold his grip on hyunjin's neck. Hyunjin furrowed and carefully circled around the other.

"She already chose me over you Felix. Her soul yearns for me if you haven’t understood the fact yet,young boy"

"Oh?is it?We will see if she even wants to see your bloody face after waking up the next morning.." Felix muttered the last words with a smirk.

"Are you going to pull your as usual innocence card on her?" the elder asked staring into his eyes and continued with a chuckle, "She won't even fall for it,she's already fucking ruined."

"And devil says innocence is the bestest art of seduction"

Author note:This is first complete smut I've ever written so sorry for the mistakes. There would be a final chapter to finish "red lights" from SHE CHOSE ME,DID SHE? series. Tysm for reading.

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eat-limes-bitches · 2 months

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Not Allowed To Die

PAIRING: Female Reader x Bucky Barnes

SUMMARY: We never know how much time we have left and fate is a cruel mistress. We can only make the best of the time we have left.

WARNINGS: ANGST! Like omg so much angst not really a happy ending but it's not super sad either. Sad! Bucky, mentions of death, dying, tears

Word Count: 755

A/N: Would you like to be sad and or have your heart ripped out? Good. I was thinking about this the other day and it just felt like something so raw and real to talk about, especially since this is one of my greatest fears.

Enjoy! <3

It was around three am when Bucky woke up with a start. He heaved deep breaths into his lungs, physically willing his heart to slow down. He looked to his side and saw her still asleep, the moonlight drifting in through the window casting a halo on her hair as steady, strong, breaths fanned across her pillow. It was the sight of her next to him in their bed that allowed Bucky to finally catch his breath. He reached over with his flesh hand and traced her features with his finger, mapping every dip and curve, freckle and crease on her face, permanently ingraining her face into his mind.

His feather touches eventually woke her up. Her brows furrowed together as a sleepy “James?” left her lips. Her eyes fluttered open and landed on the man staring at her with worry and fear etched deep into his features.

“James? What’s wrong?” She mumbled as she started to sit herself up. Bucky stared at her for a moment before blurting out “You are not allowed to die before me.”

This surprised her. She sat up a little quicker and looked at him, “What?”

Taking a deep breath, Bucky repeated himself, “You are not allowed to die before me. You, just can’t.”

She let out a deep sigh as she leaned back against the headboard keeping her gaze trained on the man she loved.

“Now James,” She started, reaching for his hand, “What on Earth brought this up, my love?”

Bucky takes a shuddery breath, his throat suddenly becoming tight as he tries to speak.

“I- I just realized how fragile all of this is. I realized that I m-might lose you and that scares me. I’ve already lost so much, I don’t think I’d be able to handle losing you too.” He chokes out, tears starting to sting his eyes, threatening to spill.

“I can’t lose you. I- I have to go before you.”

Now her throat constricted, the thought of him leaving before she did was not a foreign thought to her, with his line of work, there is always a possibility that he won’t come back, but something about him making that statement when the world was silent weighed a little more on her.

“Well that’s n-not exactly fair is it?” She choked out as tears started rolling down her cheeks. Bucky reached over and cupped her face in his hand.

“I s’pose no darlin’” He murmured as his breath caught in his chest.

“B-but I just can’t lose you. I- I wouldn’t survive it” He choked on a sob as his admission hung in the air. Y/n sighs and gathers Bucky up in her arms, tears still streaming down her face.

“Baby, we can’t avoid it. It’s inevitable but I need you to promise me something ok?” She says softly, pulling away slightly so she can look Bucky in the eye.

“If I do die before you, don’t let that grief bury you alive, my love, ok?” Bucky opens his mouth to speak before she silences him.

“Take each day as it comes. And promise me, when the pain eases, you'll let yourself feel joy again.”

“But, you’re my everything darlin’,” Bucky sobbed, pulling her into his arms. She wound her arms around him, further deepening the embrace.

“And you are mine. But you know what my ma told me? Love doesn't end with death. It transforms into memories, moments that live on, even when the people in them are long gone.”

The pair sat in silence, content to just sit in one another's embrace before Y/n pulled away taking a deep breath.

“Now, as things sit, right here, right now, at this moment, I’m not going anywhere any time soon ok? We still have a lot of living to do, together, alright?” Bucky nodded.

“But I’m still afraid.” He whispered.

“And that’s ok, my love,” She whispered as a ghost of a smile danced across her features, “As long as we don’t let that fear cloud the beauty that surrounds us right now.”

Y/n laid back down, pulling Bucky down with her so that his head was resting on her chest where he could hear her heartbeat.

“We’re going to grow old together, and make lots of memories, so when the time comes, and one of us has to go, we have a lifetime of love behind us. And who knows,” She whispered, “Maybe, just maybe we will go hand in hand, and I’ll follow you into the dark.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky x female reader #bucky angst #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader angst #bucky x reader angst #bucky x you angst #bucky barnes x you angst

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deanbrainrotwritings · 7 months

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— BEING DEAN’S WIFE

REQUEST : “Hey, can i request a hcs of be Dean Winchester or Jensen ackles wife? and be super sweet and pure girl that is younger than them” — anonymous

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : none

WARNINGS/TAGS : fluff, angst (if you squeeze your eyes together, til you make a crescent moon shape), a little bit of nsfw at the very end bc it’s hilarious

A/N : uh, yeah, here’s a little gift! I didn’t wanna do university work so i did this instead ☺️ anyway, i think this is just a list of things i love about dean… LMAO XXXX

he will just stare at you for no reason

well, the reason is actually that he thinks your lovely to look at LOL

all those chick flicks he secretly loves to watch? yeah, he’ll recite the romantic stuff because he’s literally down bad for you

… he’s cringing on the inside but also knows he means every word

he’s so pathetic for you and he doesn’t even care

he loves to give you forehead kisses

and he wants them, too, but your lips need to linger a bit, and he’ll close his eyes and just release all the tension in his body because he’s touch starved

he plays with your wedding ring when your hand is right there in his line of sight

he will hold your hand and just stare at the way the ring shines in the sunlight and he will grin like a gigantic dork

ex : if your talking to him or someone else, he’ll just take your hand and gently run his fingers over the ring

he likes when you hold his head against your stomach

when he’s sitting and you’re standing and you move between his legs just to hold his adorable little face close to you, HE LOVES THAT

you’ll let him talk for hours about things he likes, things he wants to share with you

and when you admit you have no idea what he’s talking about when he makes references to old pop culture stuff, he’ll show you everything

.. if all that stuff he references was associated with something else, now it’s all associated with you and him

it’s like THERAPY, to redo stuff with you, to make it his again, and yours

teaching him how to use technology because he’s an old man (affectionate), and he learns fast bc he’s SMART

LOL, witnessing firsthand how genius and resourceful dean is when something breaks [yeah, I can’t stop thinking about him making his own EMF and Sammy being a complete NIPPLEHEAD (affectionate) about it ! as a STEM girly that was so sexy of dean]

HELLO HE SINGS, TO YOU. HE WILL SING YOU ALL THE LOVE SONGS OMG

or he’ll just sing randomly and not even notice that you’re listening to him

silence, comfortable silence, not sad, just.. peaceful

he likes not having to say anything sometimes, just being there with you

he plays with your hair A LOT, he’ll take strands and just feel the texture of it between his fingertips, he’ll even try to do your hair if you let him, if it’s long enough

CUDDLES, he needs that, too.

but he’d rather be on top when you cuddle, with his cute face on your chest, listening to your heartbeat, to your breathing, falling asleep if you run your fingers gently along his back or if you play with his hair

Dean starts mumbling a lot against your chest or shoulder when you’re just relaxing and having lazy conversation as you cuddle

how about KISSING HIS LITTLE DIMPLES??? idk about you but I just wanna kiss his little dimples when he does that specific SMILE or POUT, ya know what I mean! •ᴗ•?? or •~• ???

he flirts with you because you blush so easily

he gets flustered when you flirt back, BC HE’S NOT USED TO IT

he looks like a strawberry, just eatable, with the tips of his ears all red, then the pinkish hue pouring across his freckled cheeks and down his neck in cute little splotches 😭 ALRIGHT YEAH I THINK ABOUT THIS OFTEN

teasing him ABOUT EVERYTHING because that’s hilarious, and he’s indignant but also knows you’re so right and he’ll roll his eyes at you and pretend he’s mad

he can never be mad at you, only playfully!

UHHH ! KISSING THE LITTLE WRINKLES AT THE CORNER OF HIS PRETTY EYES !!!

squeezing him very tightly when you hug and just holding him until he’s practically putting all his weight over you like a willow tree

he’ll bother you on purpose, especially if you’re serious

ex : he takes strands of your hair and will put it in your ear LMAOO or tickle your face with it bc he’s never gonna let a single moment be boring

he grins like the cutest idiot in the world and you can’t be mad at him because he looks LIKE THAT, like the cutest idiot in the whole universe

wearing his clothes and pretending to be him, he thinks it’s cute and funny

he’ll hold your face a lot

and kiss you all over bc you’re cute and pure and deserve all the affection he can offer

and his hands are big and calloused, but he’s so tender and gentle, and warm

hugs from behind

smashing your face into his back and taking in the smell of his body (Mrs Butters lied, Dean smells good)

he’ll love the smell of your hair when he nuzzles into your neck, or the smell of your skin, or the softness of it

going on cute dates, like picnics, watching movies, going to the cinema, going to comic book stores

watching Disney movies together and he can recite the Dory movie by heart because HE LOVES THAT FISH FR

he’ll make you playlists of songs that remind him of you

He takes lots of photos, Polaroids are his favourite because he gets to put them anywhere and everywhere so he can smile and see you if you’re ever busy

you’ll always dress up on Halloween or just for fun whenever he wants

✨healing his inner child✨

grocery shopping together, he pouts when you don’t let him be unhealthy

if you’re short, he’s making fun of you for being shorter than him when he has to reach for stuff on shelves that you can’t reach even on your toes

he teaches you how to cook if you don’t know how to

and you eat the crazy food combinations he comes up with, like those marshmallow mac and cheese he said he made for Sam when they were kids , I NEED TO KNOW WHAT THAT TASTES LIKE

he teaches you how to fix cars! he’ll stare at you when you’re being silly ANYWAY PLS TEACH ME DEAN PLS

HAHAHAHAH but like hahahahah as in, 👀 the cute little names he calls you, and you thought they were cringe when couples said them to each other but actually when HE says it to YOU it makes you swoon and you blush, but you pretend you hate it at first because you’re not used to it but he can see through you, you love it

(I’m convinced that if he calls me darlin’, I will die on the spot, or my illnesses will be cured idk idk, I just know something spontaneous or magical will happen)

sharing everything, as in food

he’ll eat your leftovers, if there are any

or if he likes your stuff better than what he’s got, he’ll eat it when he think you’re not looking, but you are definitely aware, you’re just pretending because he’s so cute

trying all the Starbucks drinks together

having to deal with his grumpiness in the morning

even better, you’re not a morning person either so you’re both grumpy

he’s so cute when he’s had his first cup of coffee in the morning :’)

when you shower together, you both play with the shampoo on you heads LMAO

he gives really good massages, like MIND-BLOWINGLY GOOD, I know them hands are magical

BUYING EACH OTHER JEWELLERY, he’s too pretty to not wear jewellery

kissing his freckles BC HES CUTE AND he blushes

kissing his scars (flashback of emo memes) NO, not saying anything about them, just gently pressing your lips on his sensitive skin so he’s not insecure about all of them

reading all sorts of magazines together BC THERES NO TOXIC MASCULINITY IN MY HOUSEHOLD AND MY BOY IS ALLOWED TO DO WHAT HE WANTS YA DUMB— right, anyway

he throws you over his shoulder and then walks around to bother you

butt smacking, that’s it, imagine the possibilities

pretending he’s picking you up at bars (like Claire and Phil from Modern Family 😭)

he’ll throw out his best pick up lines and you have to hold in your laughter at the faces he makes ALSO it works bc that’s your husband

being the best husband when you’re sick

making the yummiest foods and making sure your taking natural vitamins along with medicine

hanging out with you the whole time, not caring that you’re sick even though he’s kind of a germaphobe

whining a lot when he’s sick, but he’s partially just messing with you bc he wasn’t allowed to whine about anything as a kid (I’m right behind you, John)

he’s holding your boobs for comfort LMAO

I feel like he likes to bite, so he bites you a lot for no reason, and then goes about his day

pretending to have accents

more importantly, Dean knows how to speak Spanish, supernatural lied (all that porn and all those novelas and nothing stuck? nah, he’s very good at Spanish)

so he’ll try to seduce you with his Spanish speaking skills (and if you’re Latina/hispanic like me, you think it’s so sexy or it’s just plain cute, idk yet)

playing video games together and being very competitive

he’s very clean and very neat so you never have to tell him to clean up after himself !

he’s very protective of you, but never oversteps bc he knows you can handle yourself

he likes introducing you as his wife

it’s probably not even necessary but he’ll say it very loud and with a gigantic smile and he’ll embarrass you but it’s okay bc it’s Dean

he lies and says he’s your sugar daddy when people comment about the age gap

dude, dude, he’ll tease you a lot like… 🤣 he’ll copy your moans, or repeat stuff you said to him during sex. he’ll tell you very descriptively about how it all went down and the faces you made and the sounds you made.. you know, like in rock and a hard place [09.08]

especially if you’re shy

you wanna strangle him, but you don’t bc he’s the love of your life !

did I do this right? :( doesn’t matter, add some headcannons in the tags or comments 😭 i love husband!dean

taglist

@rominaszh @lanassmarty @murdockscumsock @zepskies @candy-coated-misery0731 @lyarr24 @spnfamily-j2 @globetrotter28

main masterlist

dean winchester masterlist

do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or republish my work on another platform

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean x you #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x female!reader #1.4

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firelilyfox · 21 days

Text

Choose Your Next Words Carefully

Dune: Paul Atreides x female reader

Warnings: se&ual harassment (assault) / cursing / angst / blood

Words: 2k

Summary: Paul & you were childhood friends but suddenly he distanced from you. On a night full of celebration you get into trouble & Paul protects you … but what happened two years ago?

______________________

Caladan looked even more beautiful at night.

You are watching the peaceful waves collapsing under the balcony you are standing on. Behind the whole castle is celebrating another victory against the Harkonnen. A soft breeze lets the fabric of your dress flow in the wind and you take a deep breath of the salty air.

It wasn’t your wish to be here tonight, but your father insisted that you would watch him getting honored for his work for Duke Leto. And you did. But when the duke’s son joined the celebration, you had to get out of there as soon as possible.

You and Paul Atreides had a very … complicated past.

As long as you could remember you had a crush on him and he knew it all along. When the two of you were younger, you would play everyday and make mischief all around the castle. But suddenly you barley saw him once a week and Paul acted kinda cold around you. Once you wanted to talk to him about his weird behavior, he just laughed at you and made fun of you for having a crush on him. Everybody around could hear him laughing and began to pity you for being so naive.

The daughter of a soldier would never be good enough for a future Duke.

You never spoke to Paul again. This was two years ago, but every time you see him at big events, your heart tightens and you become overwhelmed with sadness and anger. How could he do something like that to you? Even if he never had felt the same for you as you did for him … friends don’t hurt each other like that.

„What are you doing out here?“, a voice asked behind you. When you turned around you saw a man standing there, looking at you with a drunk smile. It was a friend of your father. A soldier, just like him.

„Just catching some fresh air“, you said.

The man comes closer to you, stumbling over his own feet. His wrinkly face showed many scars from battle in the past. „It is dangerous … for a young Lady … out here.“

He leans towards you, but you duck away from him. „Uh.. thanks for the heads up. I will go inside … where its safer.“

As you turn your back again, you can hear him mumbling something about find me later, but you don’t want to keep listening to this creepy guy.

Quickly your feet carrying you inside the great hall, where most of the people are dancing and drinking. You couldn’t see your father anywhere because you are shorter than most of the men and women here. So you decide to get on one of the stone benches to get a better view from up there.

„These things are meant to sit on, you know?“

Green eyes. A crooked grin. Freckles.

„What do you know, Atreides? Shouldn’t your royal ass be sitting on a throne or something?“

Paul chuckles. „Sassy as always. Some things never change, hm?“

You rolled your eyes and went back to keep on looking for your father, so you could finally leave this goddamn party. That’s when Paul joined you on the bench.

„What are we looking for?“, he asked amused.

You’re frowning at him. „WE are not looking for anything. I am looking for my father. And YOU should leave me alone, Atreides.“

Paul looks confused. „Have you forgotten my first name? It’s Paul, you know?“ He smiled again and you catch yourself almost smiling at his dumb joke. But you manage to pull yourself together before that happens. It almost felt like when you were kids.

„Fuck off, Paul.“ You jump from the bench and trying to make a way through the crowd of drunk, dancing people. Paul follows you.

„You tell your future Duke to fuck off? Hah! You are as brave as I remember“, he says laughing. Before you could respond anything, Paul grabs your wrist and turns you around. His other hand holding your waist and you find yourself pressed against him. The high difference forces you to look up at him.

„What are you doing?“, you stutter.

A smirk appears on his face, as if he know how much impact his presence has on you. „I’m dancing with you. I mean we are on the dance floor.“

For a moment you let yourself enjoy the feeling of being so close to him. The pressure of his hand on your lower back, his chest moving against yours. Your fingers on his bicep. Hands holding each other. This was something you always dreamed about. Your heart begins to pound like crazy. His smile faded and his gaze softened. Now he looks at you like you are the only thing that is existent. Time moves slower. Noise faded. Only you and him.

Paul leans his forehead against yours, closings his eyes and he takes a deep breath. The moment was intimate and all you wished for at some point … but it felt wrong.

„What has gotten into you tonight?“ You pushed him away. A hurt expression crossed his face and you almost felt bad. „Two years, Paul. Two years and now this?“

Without waiting for a stupid response you took off and managed to find a way through the crowd out in the hallways. Tears filled your eyes, but you are to stubborn to let them run down your face, exposing your hurt feelings.

Desperate for some privacy you opened a small door and find an empty room with sofas. The perfect hiding spot until you’ll be able to shove down your feelings again.

„I see. The Lady found me.“

A high pinched scream escaped your throat as you were grabbed roughly by the shoulders and got pushed down on one of the sofas. Your head slammed against something hard and you feel warm blood running down your cheek.

The man from the balcony holds you down with a big smile on his face. His gaze is hidden in shadows but you recognize him.

„Let me go! My father will behead you with his own hands!“ You scream at him, trying to get away but against his heavy body you have no chance.

He was not listening and even if he was, he seemed not to care. The man took one hand of your shoulder to grab you by the neck to choke you and the other hand loosened up his pants.

„No. No please. No“, you beg for him to stop.

„Not so bratty anymore, hm? I shall teach you a lesson you little slut! I will…“

But his words came to stop. Slowly you opened your eyes again, as his grip around your neck got loose again. You could see a knife at his throat, forcing him to stop and not move a muscle. The hand, that was holding the knife belonged to … Paul.

He was standing behind the man. His eyes dark and full of rage. The knife scratching the skin and making the old man bleed a little bit.

The old guy shouted in anger. „Whoever dares to interrupt me will be punished!“

Paul chuckled dangerously silent and forced the man to turn around to look at him. His eyes widened in shock. „My Lord“, he whispered. „I didn’t know that you own this whore … I mean I …“

„If I were you“, Paul interrupted him with a deadly glance. „I would choose my next words very carefully.“

Paul lays more pressure on the knife and it’s cutting deeper into his skin. The man began to whimper. Before the damage would be irreversible, Paul pushed him to the ground.

„I won’t wash my hands in your blood.“ As if he had given a silent sign, two guards came in to drag the man outside. „These guys will handle that.“

You look at Pauls back. He was standing there like a true leader. Like the man he became. He was not a child anymore … and neither were you.

As the door closes again he dropped the knife and turned around to you. Faster than lighting he got down on one knee to met your eyes at the same hight. His hands cupping your face and he wipes your tears away that mixed up with the blood.

„Does it hurt badly?“, he asked with a soft voice. The contrast to his fearless and deadly side couldn’t be any bigger.

You shake your head. „No it’s fine.“

„He will be beheaded in the morning. You don’t have to worry about seeing him ever again.“ Paul tries to calm you down. His eyes holding your own captured and you weren’t able to look away.

„Thanks. I mean …“, you shake your head again getting rid of his hands. „I should go now.“

You stand up and opening the door. Paul is standing right behind you, pushing the door shut again. His hand were right next to your head but you refuse tu turn around right away.

„Please let me explain“, he whispered. Paul was so close, that you could feel his breath on your skin. You sigh but still refuse to turn around to look at him.

„There is nothing to explain. I know everything that I need to know.“

„You asked me what has gotten into me tonight.“

You stay silent.

Paul sighted. „My father told me that I don’t have to be married to be the next Duke.“

Confusion brings you to look over your shoulder and met his sad green eyes. The honesty in them lets you turn around. „What does that have to do with me?“

He smiled but it looked so sad and broken. „Everything. I … i stayed away from you on purpose, y/n.“

„What do you mean?“

„The day you told me, that you … you had feelings for me, was the same day my father told me to that I have to marry Princess Irulan in the future. I was so mad at him because I already lost my heart to someone and I … but he said that it had to be this way.“

„So you let out your anger about your father out on me?“, you asked angrily.

Paul shakes his head. „No. I just thought … if you would hate me … then it would be easier for me to stay away from you.“

Suddenly all fell right into place. His behavior on that day two years ago made much more sense … he was cold and distant but…

You punched him on the arm. „That still don’t give you the permission to act like an asshole!“

Paul smiled and nodded apologetically. „You are right but I was young and not so smart like I thought I wished to be.“

A moment of silence fell over the two of you. Just the eyes spoke louder than a voice could ever manage to do.

„So … you lost your heart to someone else than your reflection in the mirror?“, you joked.

„God I missed your sassy mouth so much!“ Paul laughed and it was the first real laughter you heard from him for such a long time. „Yeah i did. Even if my reflection is pretty stunning … nothing compares to the girl that I lost my heart and soul to.“

Paul gently laid his hand on your cheek making sure you keep on looking into his eyes before he kept on talking. „I always loved you, y/n. Of course I did! How could I not love you?“

Tears start to fill your eyes again … but this time for a good reason.

„You are still an asshole for behaving like that, Atreides.“

His smile melted your heart away. „Will you forgive me?“

You nod.

Paul slowly leans towards you and when his lips met yours, there where nothing else to say.

#timothée chalamet #paul atreides #dune movie #dune part one #dune part two #paul atredies x reader #paul atreides x you #fluff #protective paul atreides #protective boyfriend #paul atreides angst #light angst #dune fanfic #dune angst #paul atreides kissing #first kiss

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milknhonies · 2 months

Text

Wails of Wedded Bliss

Chapter 6 || Masterlist || Chapter 8

Chapter Summary: Upon meeting the Baroness you are enamoured by her devotion.

Pairing: Sherlock Homes x wife!reader

Chapter Warnings: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, (No Smut), typical historical misogyny and sexism, mentions and discussion on miscarriages. Implied domestic abuse and infidelity.

Word Count: 9k

Author Notes: This is an important but rather sad chapter. I beseech you all to read the warnings. The details of this chapter are important to the plot of the missing Baron Thaddeus Pennicott.

Inspiring Song: "Flightless Bird American Mouth" by Vitamin String Quartet

8:30am Wednesday 7th May 1890, Grovelands House, The Bourne, London, England.

Sherlock tucked your arm into his side as you three entered the Groveland house foyer. The floor was made of fine marble tile and with ever step a light echo raced down the halls.

The inspector called upon a nearby dusting maid to fetch the head of the house. Who returned was a thin and tall man in a butler’s uniform with a sliver pocket watch hanging from his chest. His hair was the colour of autumn leaves and his face littered in freckles.

He bowed, “I am mister Edward Redmayne, head butler of the Groveland estate, how may I assist you?”

The inspector shook his hand and stated quickly, “We spoke on the telephone yesterday? A telegraph was sent.”

The butler smiled with a relieving gasp, “Detective Holmes?”

Lestrade sheepishly looked over his shoulder to you and your husband. He nodded. His expression wore a emotion of embarrassment mixed with annoyance. Perhaps he was jealous of your husband’s successful published case stories. You wished you could have told the constable not to fret as Sherlock was nothing short of a arrogant mule...yet again- the mark on his face...he probably already knew that.

8:42am Wednesday 7th May 1890, Grovelands House, The Bourne, London, England.

Upon meeting the lady of the house, you stood frigid by your husband. You felt somewhat self conscious by her grey eyes that lingered over your dress. Perhaps you should’ve worn your Sunday best before meeting a woman of such a high status.

The baroness was unmistakably pregnant. Her belly was bold and rounded beneath her maternity gown. She had been sitting calmly on a resting chaise, knitting a small bonnet for her future child. Her hands were covered in fine burgundy velvet gloves to match her modest dress.

Her face was framed by a light brown curls, that appeared almost white in some places, twisted into a bum at the base of her neck. Her pale face was blotchy with pink flecks and slight acne.

“Lady Pennicott, I am Inspector Braydon Lestrade of Scotland Yard,” the British officer proclaimed as he bowed dramatically forward. You withheld a girlish giggle by how low the man had bent his head and presented himself foolishly, and from the corner of your eye you manage to catch the whisp of Sherlock’s smirk.

The inspector waved his arm behind him and moved aside, “-and with me is Detective Sherlock Holmes and his wife, Mrs Holmes.”

You produced the baroness a respectable curtsy, your eyes glued down to the beautifully patterned carpet. You wondered how the servants could keep it so clean and freshly unstained by dirty guests. It must have been new.

The baroness shuffled her knitting needles and ball of woollen yarn into a Whicker basket and disposed of it beside her.

A slow stretching smile graced her thin lips as she spoke to you, “Oh, are you the little dear who solved that factory match girl incident?”

You weren’t sure how to answer her question. You weren’t entirely sure what the baroness was referencing until Sherlock stepped closer with your arm still cradled in his.

“No dear Baroness,” Sherlock pat your hand gently, “That would have been my sister Enola Holmes, she has her own detective office at present moment. My wife is here on my invitation. I wished to gift her a sight of the grand park and estate while I was here upon duty.”

The Baroness cocked her head, from her ears hung pearls that swung and hung like rain drops.

“Come forth dear,” she lifted her hand and beckoned you, “I would like to have better view of you.”

You wondered if she could smell the sweat beginning to drop down the back of your neck. You bit your tongue and tried to refrain from trembling. You were nervous. Her eyes were cold but her smile warm, two conflating details that you couldn’t understand. The last thing you needed now on top of a terrible start to your marriage was to be scrutinized by a haughty pregnant baroness.

She flickered your fingers for you to bend down to her. As you leant down, you swore you could smell copper, a metalic scent. A vein on your scalp pulsed. She scanned your face of its details. You dared to wonder what she was searching for. And then it clicked...the smell...

‘Dear god, you prayed, please don’t let her smell my blood, please let this not be my blood...’

You should have sprits on some perfume before leaving baker street.

She glanced behind you and questioned angelically, “How does it feel having such a clever husband?”

Your lips opened and closed. You resembled a fish. You were stumped to answer quickly.

‘Miserable, infuriating, torturous, pleasurable mixed with a cup of agony...’

She lifted her brows until you hurriedly blurted, “He is...formidable and righteous...” you stood up tall and took a step back, adding with a monetarism of truth, “I am very lucky to have become his bride.”

‘Lucky, while incredibly resentful.’

You reached back, Sherlock adopted your arm back into his hold once more.

Lady Pennicott rubbed her belly, her eyes started to twinkle, “And soon you will have a plethora of children that will look like him I gather.”

Your eyes fluttered. Sherlock’s hand tightened around your glove and his throat bobbed. You felt hot in the face.

Yes that’s right, that’s what normal husband and wife did isn’t it? They have children. That was your role, to be the mother of Sherlock’s offspring...

You couldn’t answer.

And there. That dear girl is when you questioned for the first time. ‘Is this what I want?’ and ‘Do I want Sherlock’s children.’ Because having a knowing of his barbarism conflated a fear in your belly...would Sherlock hurt his own children if he could easily hurt you, his wife?

When you hesitated for too long to answer her again, Sherlock said with a strained tone that was masked in a hopeful joy, “One may only hope, Baroness.”

“Lady Pennicott,” Graydon interrupted, “We have come to ask you on the whereabouts of Lord Pennicott and the evening he was last sighted.”

Her eyes narrowed at the inspector and with an annoyed twinge she muttered and wiped her hands on a nearby blanket, “I already informed the police of what I was informed of by our butler Edward.”

She glanced up next her right. Mister Redmayne observed her, looking down. The pair smiled to each other. She reached out to him. She grabbed his hand and they squeezed.

The inspector laughed nervously, “Indeed but Detective Sherlock Holmes was not presently involved in the case until yesterday.”

Her eyes flickered quickly to your husband and her face flared with confusion quickly to be matched with a impressed smile, “Of course, please sit all of you as I am near a indisposition with my child,” she gestured to the mirroring chaise and a chair beside the fireplace, “Edward, please tell Martha to bring tea and biscuits for our kind service men and Mrs Holmes.”

The butler bowed to you all and left the sitting room.

Lestrade took his place on the lone chair while Sherlock sat you beside him on the chaise. You took your time to lower yourself. Sitting on your bruises was uncomfortable while another cramp hit you. Your fingers dug into his palm.

From Lestrades breast pocket he pulled out a notebook and small pencil.

“Lady Pennicott,” Sherlock softly hummed, “Please, could you tell me what your husband is like as a person?”

The woman who you believed was in her late thirties smiled and stated softly, “My Thaddeus is a noble man, good taste in wine and very devoted to his work. He likes to go hunting and we share a passion for gardening,” she glanced up at the ceiling and paused, “He prefers to plant vegetables to donate to the church and orphans, whereas I have always loved to grow my flowers.”

The way she described him, her devotion was deep and honourable. She touched her round belly.

Sherlock looked over to the fire place behind the baroness. On the mantle was a magnificent portrait twice your height, painted on the canvas was who you recognised as Lord and Lady Pennicott. He was sitting up straight on a fine red cushioned chair with his dirty blonde hair and softened mutton chops while she stood at his right and her ringed hand on his shoulder. The similarities were there but Lady Pennicotts hair had lightened in reality perhaps from all the years that separated her likeness and her reality.

“I was informed Lord Pennicott is a father of five?” Sherlock asked.

The Baroness smiled proudly and pat her tummy softly, “Six soon.”

You couldn’t help notice something was missing from the painting, Sherlock also had a similar thought.

Where were the children in the portrait? Where was a family portrait in the house?

“Forgive me,” a breath of air escaped from him, “are the children away at school?”

“Oh,” her uncanny smile remained while her brows angled down, her throat tightened as she spoke, “I fear they are in the loving embrace of angels now. All of them were taken from us by God,” her eyes glanced to you, “They came out sleeping.”

Your heart sunk to the pit of your belly with sorrow and pity.

Five babies lost, five babies gone…five pregnancies… four and a half years of pregnancy and for what? Five angels.

A woman had one holy role in life, to bare her husband children, and when a woman was defective or produced a sickly child, it was a symbol of failure in society. But you never saw it that way...you imagined it must’ve been agony to lose so many babies. One or two was a common occurrence but five? Five was a curse to experience and relive over and over.

“Well,” you interrupted Sherlock rudely, cutting him off from his next abrasive question by squeezing his hand a little too hard.

You could see the mourning in the baroness’ face. You saw the classic look of all women made uncomfortable by something a man has said. What the hell would the detective know about a woman’s emotions after how coldly he has treated all women and yourself.

You shuffled on the opposite chaise and smile softly, “I will pray this one will come swiftly and feel the warmth of their mother.”

The baroness’ face lifted and warmed. She smiled happily and nodded, “Thankyou, oh I’m just so excited! This one really is a big one, I can feel it. I hope it’s a boy.”

Sherlock was staring at you intensely as the maid Martha finally delivered a pot of tea and poured the steaming liquid. His brows were knitted and his eyes held suspicion as he kept you in his sight. You politely nodded your head once at him before reaching for a hot cup and lifting it to your lips.

Sherlock sighed and turned back to his questioning, “You would say you liked your marriage?”

The baroness appeared offended by your husband as her face wrinkled and a sneer spread her thin lips, “Of course, any woman who doesn’t like her marriage should not be married in the first place. She is a burden to her husband if she cannot perform her duties as a wife.”

Lady Pennicott leant forward and collected her own cup of tea, she delicately pinched a biscuit and dunked it into the contents.

…you felt Sherlock drag his thumb across your fingers. You felt chilly, could he read your thoughts? Did he know truly how much you already hated him and his ideas of intimacy in your marriage? He clear his throat when both your glancing eyes caught each other.

“Can you tell me what happened,” Sherlock pressed, “The night of your husbands disappearance?”

“Well...after dinner,” the baroness sighed in thought and nibbled on her moist biscuit, “Thaddeus wanted to speak with me in his office about a spending I had made a week ago. You see, I had bought a cradle for the nursery. The one we had originally was broken and beyond repair, we disposed of it a month prior. Thaddeus was not pleased with the price and claimed it was an unnecessary purchase,” she paused and set her cup aside before she touched her belly again; rubbing in soft slow circles, she began to blushed, “He was sorely hurt by my choice. He then became very cross with me and left his office in a huff.”

She looked to the yarn, to the tea pot and then finally to the painting on the mantle, “I deemed that he would find forgiveness in his heart by the morning and brush it off. I returned back to the nursery to tidy up before I went to my rooms and went to bed to sleep in my quarters of the east wing. Thaddeus keeps himself to the west wing most nights.”

The detective nodded, “What time do you believe it was when you went to your bed, Baroness?”

She hummed softly while pursuing her lips, “A quarter to nine in the evening.”

“And how did you realise your husband was missing?” Sherlock stole a scone off the tea tray and lifted it to his lips. He paused amidst chewing it slowly.

The noble woman sighed and recollected, pragmatically, “In the morning Mr Redmayne informed me on how Thaddeus took off into the night astride Arion, our prize stallion Clydesdale. Thaddeus had not returned by the next morning and that is when concern drew near. I sent members of my staff to the factories to investigate his whereabouts and none had come upon him. I knew something had to be wrong so I alerted the authorities by the second morning.”

Your husband took a deep breath and discarded the half bitten scone, he wiped his hand unceremoniously on his jacket and throatily asked, “Do you recall if Lord Pennicott has any potential persons he might be deemed as an enemy towards?”

“Only his company competitors, Detective,” She said saccharinely with her smile, “He was a very loveable man.”

“Do you have a list of the names of staff who were working that evening here in Groveland House?”

The butler stepped forward and cleared his throat, “That would be in Lord Pennicotts office,” he pulled out a pair of keys, “I can you show you gentlemen in and where he keeps his accounts and other paraphernalia to his business if you’d like?”

Both Sherlock and Lestrade smiled and stood up.

“Baroness,” Sherlock gently requested, “Would it be overly bothersome if my beloved wife remained and kept you company while the inspector and I look in your husband’s office.”

Your heart jumped to your throat. What was Sherlock doing leaving you behind with the Baroness by yourself!?....what if you spoke out of turn or said something too presumptuous for your status!?...

“Most certainly not,” she beamed “I will gladly accept such delightful company,” She held out a hand, palm down to her right. The butler speedily stepped to her side and leant her his hand. She winced as she scooted forward on the cushioned lounge before struggling to rise to her feet.

Sherlock leant down and kissed the back of your wrist again, so scantily in front of the baroness. You tried tor refrain from loudly gasped and bringing anymore dangerous attention to yourself. Your husband left your side and followed the butler with Lestrade out of the sitting room.

So the party turned to two married women. The baroness was pleased.

She stepped closer to you and reached for your arm. You were surprised by her familiarity but you would not deny the assistance of a woman so desperately swollen and ready to birth any day.

“My dear, would you care to have a stroll with me in my garden?” She smirked and jerked her chin, “Knowing how dear Thaddie kept his space organised I suspect the gentlemen might be a while.”

You nodded and quickly made the warning assurance, “Are you in a condition to move great feets Lady Pennicott?”

“Fret not,” She giggled girlishly and waved her hand casually, “The physician told me fresh air is delightful for the health of the babe,” she tapped the top of her belly, “I have a month or so before they come.”

Your eyes widened, she looked huge enough to give birth now, surely she wasn’t a month away!! Maybe she was going to be blessed with a pair of twins. You had such a limited knowledge of pregnancy in women. Your grandmother hadn’t given birthed a child in the last forty years before your birth!!!

She pointed the way out of the main mansion to enter the garden paths. The sun was perfect today amongst the clouds. It was neither cold nor hot nor humid and dank...it was pleasant and you could smell the fresh nature of bushels and flowers.

“How long have you been known as, The Mrs Holmes?” She inquired cheerfully with her shining silver eyes.

“...Not very long,” you replied warmly before risking a white lie, “We recently finished our honeymoon.”

She grinned and waddled passed a wooden bench, she took a quick stop to rest and pat the seat for you to join her instead of standing dumbly.

“Shall I share some words of advise?,” She hummed, “From a woman that has been married for twelve years?”

“I would be ever so grateful,” you said rushed and desperate. You wouldve listened to anything she had to say. A woman of her standing must’ve held adequate wisdom.

She warmly cupped both your hands and squeezed them. And yet there was an ice creepy into her gaze. She appeared to dissociate, her voice losing its youthful lilt. Her lip wobbled slightly.

“Men are visual creatures. While you are so young and beautiful, you must become pregnant as soon as possible,” Lady Pennicott ran her palm across your waist, her eyes like razors cut across the yard to a bush of red rose buds, “It is inevitable that our husbands will stray their gazes to other women, it is in their nature,” those grey stones in her face rolled back and weighed you down, “as I said- visual creatures. The sooner you make a babe, the easier his devotion comes,” A joyous grin returned to her thin lips, she playfully tapped the tip of your nose and stated, “Trust me upon this.”

You clenched your hand behind you and strained a smile, “I thankyou for such wise words Baroness. I will endeavour to do what I must to conceive.”

At this moment in time Sherlock had proved himself a monstrous villain. Would it be possible for you to fall pregnant?

You looked out at the divine lush greenery and exhaled softly.

“Do you garden Mrs Holmes?” the baroness queried.

You chuckled softly and removed your gloves, you flashed her a sight of your palm, “I am afraid my hands have never been introduced. My grandmother preferred I focus on mastering piano and embroidery.”

The grey orbs fluttered back at you with a surprised him, “Embroidery is a lovely skill,” she pat your hand and pointed across the field, “Please help me up Mrs Holmes, let us take a look at my lilacs.”

You stood straight up and leant out your arm, she was surprisingly light for a woman her size. She leant against you and took small timid steps to her flower patches.

She stood and admired the flower patches, pointing to different types and explaining the breeds of flowers she hoped to grow in the future.

You finally bent over enough and cupped the petals of purple to hold up to your nose and took in a wiff “They smell lovely,” from the corner of your eye was a line of crimson, “I see your roses will soon be in bloom.”

She pinched a bud that was peaking to bloom soon.

“Oh yes, the soil is rich and healthy,” she giggled, “I can’t wait for Thaddeus to return, he liked the roses. He would stand here for a while and think. I know he will love the red colour. It is his favourite shade you see...” She sighed dreamily with her eyes scanning the bushes of scarlet rose buds, “I miss him terribly. I hope he’s alright. I want him to come home soon before the baby arrives.”

A fly smacked into your eye and you sputtered, battering it away. When you gracelessly composed yourself, you stood back up to your feet beside the Lady of Groveland.

You could see how her eyes puddles with droplets of mournful tears. You felt bad for any woman that did not know where her husband was. Especially if there was a rumour about him fleeing the marriage and abandoning her in her serious pregnant condition.

Taking the chance, you boldly took both your hands into yours and now squeezed them. Another buzzing from a fly sat on your shoulder.

The day was growing warmer and a bead of sweat rolled down your neck. The fly tickled your neck and suckled along your salted skin.

You tried your best to ignore the annoying creature.

“I am sure he will Lady Pennicott,” you soothed with a soft welcoming grin, “And he will be most happy when he returns.”

She sighed solemnly and glanced back at the rose bushes. You felt obligated for her happiness in that moment. Glancing back to the house you felt a opportunity come to you.

“May I visit your nursery Lady Pennicott, so I may have references for my own in the future?”

Her eyes flickered up, her face shine bright and her hand tightened over your wrists excitedly as though she was still as youthful as a school girl.

“Why of course Mrs Holmes,” she spun on her heel and wobbled a slight, she lifted her hand and called to the maid Martha still packing the china set inside, “Please inform the detective that I am taking his wife up to the nursery.”

“Yes Baroness,” she said with a humble curtsey and scurried off while Lady Pennicott took you totally inside the house and up a grand stair case from the foyer.

9:03am Wednesday 7th May 1890, Grovelands House, The Bourne, London, England.

Up, up, up you both climbed the stairs. You noticed how the stairs didn’t bother her ladyship once, she was fit and stridden widely whereas you were breathing a little hard by the top step.

She pulled you down a hallway to a white painted door.

She excitedly opened the door wide and practically skipped inside to show you around her future child’s room.

The walls were covered in light blue and yellow paint. There were small peonies covering the trim of the room. There was no carpet but who needed one when you had a newborn.

“Welcome to the resting nest of my baby,” Lady Pennicott proudly exclaimed, spreading her arms out at the room around you.

There was a tall shelf filled with stuffed animals and teddy bears. There was a rocking horse, a doll house, spinning tops, tin cars and rubber balls all waiting, collecting dust, awaiting the arrival of a playmate. There was a permabulator by the window sill. There was a rocking chair in one corner and against the wall closest to the door- you smiled and swaggered over curiously, “Is this the cradle you bought?”

It was made of fine cream painted wood. You chewed your bottom lip in the thought. It was a lovely crib, why was Lord Pennicott so upset by such a delightful purchase? He didn’t have money issues. You put it down as that you didn’t understand the way men thought and men will never know what women think.

“Yes,” Lady Pennicott chirped, “it is from William Whitely department store in Baywater next to the Howard & Co dress department.”

The Baroness sat down into her rocking chair and slowly moved it back and forth, watching you admire the nursery she spent hours and years consistently curating.

You clenched the edge and looked over the railing down at the empty bedding. There was a teddy lamb in the corner, you pinched it’s fluffy white tail and sighed. For a brief moment you let your eyes close and your imagination wander far.

One day you’d have this...with Sherlock. An empty cradle to be filled. You caught the vision of a tiny hand squeeze around your finger and the sound of soft gurgles with the warm pressure of a hand on your waist...was that Sherlock’s hand? Was that your child?

One day you’d have a baby to care for, to provide these things that meant love...yet, was any child of Sherlock’s capable of love? He certainly wasn’t as far as you were concerned.

You bit down a shudder and opened your eyes, feeling hot tears glide down a cheek. You pushed back and sighed, “I am most confident on one thing Lady Pennicott.”

“And what is that Mrs Holmes?” she said softly, she could see the unspoken pain in your face. You swallowed hard and your face fell into a smile, you flashed her a wink.

You laughed softly, “Your child will be spoilt rotten by the love you give.”

She chuckled with you and nodded.

“Have you thought of a name?” you inquired, waltzing over to the chested drawers of baby knick knacks on display.

“Thaddeus Colin if it’s a boy,” she hummed, “or Theresa Grace if it is a girl.”

“Theresa?”

She giggled gently, “That is my name dear.”

Mrs Theresa Pennicott. It suited her. Her old soul eyes reflected her devout name.

A shine of glass pierced a ray of sun into your eyes, you pinched the glass object carefully. You touched a long black tube pulling out of it. You couldnt understand it’s purpose, your eyes narrowed at the rubber end that was shaped like a thumb or a cows udder. There was a second tube attached to the first with a rubber squeeze ball at the end.

“What is this?” you humoured.

“Oh that? It’s a fantastic invention,” The baroness said, “It’s a pump for breast milk with a tube that syphons the milk into this baby feeding bottle. When babies start to teeth they can scar your breasts. This is an effective and modern method I look forward to trying.”

Your eyes widened, scarring!? Babies teeth could scar a breast!?

You placed the bottle bump back and helped Lady Pennicott when she beckoned to stand back up from the rocking chair.

“Have you ever felt the sensations?” She suddenly, “In which they kick within?”

Your face must’ve looked idiotic as you asked plainly, “Kick?”

She giggled and nodded, “Give me your hand, perhaps you may feel them moving.”

She plucked your palm and pulled your glove off your fingers. She pressed your entire hand intimately to her belly. You felt a sense of taboo shame, she was making you touch such a beloved spot.

“Do you feel it?” she then asked.

Felt what? Confusion flooded your mind. Your hand moved around her belly slowly.

“I am afraid I don’t know what I’m meant to be feeling?”

She moved your hand and again you felt absolutely nothing.

“They are very brutal on my body,” Lady Pennicott sarcastically assured, “trust me there is a kick.”

She made a point to push your hand harder, but all you felt was the hard material of her corsetry beneath her main dressing materials.

“Baby’s kick you inside?” you marvelled with stunned horror. This was the first time you’d ever heard of such a notion of a baby beating it’s mother inside.

“Not out of malicious intent Mrs Holmes,” she reassured, “mostly it is the baby using its limbs to move their cramped bodies inside or excitement at the sound of voices, I truly believe they can hear us while still inside. Fear not, to you it will feel like a faint touch like this-”

Lady Pennicott softly tapped your wrist, “Like that.”

And there again was new knowledge you heard from a woman on matters of pregnancy. You moved your fingers around, seeking the supposed feeling of a kick...

Still nothing. You frowned, was there something wrong with you that the baby was choosing not to reveal itself.

“How interesting...”

A soft knock on wood alerted you both to glance at the door.

“Mrs Holmes,” the butler from earlier politely spoke, “the detective is requesting your return, I believe he intends to depart.”

Your face fell. You couldn’t believe it but you’d found this experience immensely enjoyable. You had surprisingly made a friend of the Baroness.

The fair lady hugged your side and sweetly exhaled, “Then I shall escort you back to your husband, Eddie fetch me my cheque book.”

He nodded and walked ahead of you both. You solemnly shut the nursery door, trying to remember every precious detail as possible. It was a innocent place to escape from the crude world.

You returned to the bottom of the foyer and smiled at your husband that stood by Lestrade at the front doors.

By the bottom step you faced the noble woman and curtsied.

“Thankyou Lady Pennicott for your kind hospitality and agreeable cooperation to the case,” you heard Sherlock’s voice float over your shoulder.

“Of course detective, please,” the Butler returned with her cheque book, “find my beloved Thaddeus.”

She scribbled speedily with a modernised ink pen, a sharp tear of paper flashed to his direction, “Here. Thirty pounds. I am sure you are busy with other clients considering your reputation, but I beseech you to seek out my husband quickly.”

Sherlock bowed his head as he deposited the cheque into his pocket, “We shall try our hardest. Good afternoon Lady Pennicott.”

Your mouth might’ve collected flies. Thirty pounds. THIRTY pounds. That was a hefty wage for a year to many men.

Sherlock was granted his coat and walking cane along with Lestrade.

He opened the front door and left slowly, glancing over your shoulder back at the heavily pregnant Baroness.

9:21am Wednesday 7th May 1890, Grovelands House, The Bourne, London, England.

Sherlock and you walked up the gravel path in silence for sometime. You weren’t in much of a mood to speak to him despite well knowing conversation would need to spark eventually.

The three of you slowed down beside the inspectors horse cart.

Thankfully it was Sherlock who destroyed the silence with a stretched sigh. Lestrade grimly smiled at that sigh and rocked on his heels.

“Lestrade, show a useful skill,” Sherlock slapped a coin purse into his chest, “Find my wife and I a decent ride homeward. You still need to return back to the office and finish writing those reports on the Spring heeled Jack sightings....” he snickered.

The mutton chop male grumbled and left you pair alone to walk down the path into the main parklands to hail a cabriolet or another hackney carriage.

Sherlock pulled out his pipe and lit it quickly, he inhaled fast and asked curiously, “Did you learn anything else from our suspect?”

You squinted and felt a gasp pop from your lips, your hand snapped out and dug your nails into his arm with a scolding hiss, “Suspect? Look at the state she is in Sherlock. She clearly loves her husband. How could such a indisposed woman do anything to her husband?”

He smirked, “Perhaps a jealous one?”

Your brows pulled together. Jealousy wasn’t something you would’ve describe Lady Pennicott as especially with such a privileged life. Such an emotion wouldve been beneath her...but.. ‘It is inevitable that our husbands will stray their gazes to other women, it is in their nature.’

Sherlock pinched out a piece of card from his pocket, a business calling card, he flashed it through his fingers and let you carefully pluck it from his hand.

“it is no wonder Thaddeus Pennicotts name was so familiar,” Sherlocks huffed a puff of air, “He visits a like minded establishment.”

On the front of the card was a single image, a dove holding a olive leaf, and when you turned the card around there was a woman modelled in immodest clothing with text and an address in perfect hand writing.

“The Mayfair Row Dove club.”

You almost dropped the card in the mud at your feet.

He tucked the card back into his breast pocket and hooked his arm around yours, walking you closer to Lestrade waving his hands back at you both.

“I’m curious who his go to bird is there,” He chuckled.

You shook your head and scoffed in disbelief, “but she’s pregnant.”

“Men have needs,” Sherlock sighed, “I thought you’d have learnt that from last evening?”

Your nails dug harder into his arm and grit your teeth. Not everyone was as depraved as Sherlock, surely not. You couldn’t imagine Mycroft or your grandfather practicing such atrocities on women, especially women that weren’t their wives.

You noted snootily, “She said her husband liked to stand out by the roses to think. Perhaps he regretted his choice.”

Sherlock laughed cruelly and hard enough to almost drop his pipe from his lips. He plucked it out of his mouth and kissed you hard and squarely in front of Lestrade and any passing people that shook their heads in disgust at such public affection.

The taste of his tobacco filled your cheeks and floated down your throat into your chest. You could feel how his breath became your breath. Your head grew dizzy from it. His release left you trembling and collapsing against him briefly. His arm grabbed around your waist and held you totally against his chest.

“You see too much good in the worst people,” he whispered wetly into your ear.

“Not true,” you panted, you blinked your eyes hard and tried speaking again. You weakly pushed away from him back onto your own two feet. From the corner of your eyes you could see the inspector standing beside another hackney carriage.

“Not true,” you repeated and swallowed hard, “...I don’t see any good in you Sherlock.”

He grinned devilishly and walked you both to the carriage, He ignored Lestrade entirely except for retrieving his own purse.

“None at all?” Sherlock asked as he helped you step up inside of the carriage. It jostled as he plotted himself next to you instead of opposite.

You thought hard on his question for a time. You shouldn’t have ever been as petty as him. So you kept your silence before you could decide on a eloquent response. You did try to find the good in him. The trouble was you barely knew Sherlock and the side that you’d encounter was nothing short of a blagged, insufferable man that happened to be very experienced in the arts of the bedroom. So you tried to think about qualities you hadn’t seen in him but had at least heard of him.

“You help solve cases and even sometimes restitution, these deeds could be counted as decent and beneficial...perhaps good...”

He smirked until you finished hastily, “However your mistreatment and lustful addiction is nothing short of that than a person that suffers in his sin.”

A long annoyed sigh drew from his lips, however the corners jerked up.

He tug out his pipe and tapped it’s contents out the moving window, “Might I ask Mrs Holmes...” he inquired as he tucked in his pipe, and wiped his lips thoughtfully, “Do you think yourself better than me?”

The silence shared between the horses trotting along the cobblestones allowed you a chance to glare long and hard at Sherlock.

It was a jab, a jibe, a joke, a trick, a trap...

He wanted you to say yes... You could see it in his eyes the way they flicked to your lips and almost drooled with anticipation. He wanted to start a fight.

You didn’t give him the satisfaction of looking at you, you turned your head away and scoffed, “You may have quick wit and a expansive knowledge Sherlock, but I at least carry myself with the fairest morals.”

And that? The reply was granted a omen of Sherlock’s sickly chuckles and his heavy warm hand to sit over your thigh, running his them over the fabric of your skirts.

“We will see how fair a baker street whore morals really are when we arrive home then shall we?”

You leant against the wall of the carriage and chose to ignore him. You closed your eyes and held Sherlock’s hand to prevent it wandering anywhere else. His thumb rubbed along the back of your gloves hands.

You couldn’t understand Sherlock. And feared you never would.

HELPLINES:

If you are a victim of sexual abuse, assault or domestic violence or know someone who is please reach out to these links that share helpline services, phone numbers or emails. Consent and respect is important in every relationship whether between friends, family or even strangers.

Australian Helpline Services

UK Helpline Services

American Helpline Services

India Helpline Services.

#dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x ofc #sherlock holmes x female reader #sherlock holmes x poc!reader #sherlock holmes x y/n #sherlock holmes x you #sherlock holmes x ofc #sherlock holmes x reader #dark!sherlock holmes #dark!henry cavill

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its-steddie-time · 9 months

Text

The day Steve finally breaks down is a day like any other.

It hits him in a strange way—deep inside his body, embedded. Like it’s always been there. He’s tired of running the race, legs finally ready to give out. Sadness wraps around him like a hug—it blankets him, presses into the smallest crevices, makes wounds and licks at them, uncovers the hurt below the surface.

It’s a normal day.

But he drops a glass while doing the dishes. He drops a glass, shattered pieces all over the floor, tiny shards. Clear and sharp, like a truth finally realized. It isn’t just any glass either, it’s something he’s had since childhood. A pint glass with brightly colored citrus fruits painted on the outside—right there in his hand, safe—until it wasn’t. Until it slipped.

And out of all the things he’s ever experienced—all the moments that have scared him practically to death or the arguments that have left him bloody or the loves lost and battles barely won and people who have left—the stupid glass is what gets him.

His eyes fill with tears he doesn’t know what to do with. Usually he stops them from falling out of sheer willpower, but this time they pour down his freckled cheeks. This time, his body joins him in the falling apart. He feels it all roll through him, and he cries. He cries hard. Right in the middle of his kitchen, right in the middle of the glass he should probably clean, right in the middle of a perfectly normal day.

He’s crying for everything and everyone. He’s crying for his younger self, he’s crying for the man he’s become.

Now he’s angry.

His breath quickens and he picks up another glass, hurling it to the ground on purpose. He picks up another, and throws it at the wall this time, glass flying everywhere. He pauses, leaning heavily into the counter, the sobs rippling through him like seismic waves—aftershocks of moments passed.

At some point, another figure joins him in the room. He doesn’t notice at first, his eyes screwed shut, cries still rippling through him.

Just as he’s about to smash another glass, he’s stopped by a hand wrapping firmly around his wrist. It’s Eddie.

He takes glass from Steve’s hand and sets it down on the counter. Steve’s still crying, embarrassment now mixing in with the anger and sadness. He should have remembered that Eddie was staying here—all those years alone in his house, he isn’t used to having company. Not like this.

Eddie doesn’t say anything, just sweeps up the glass, stopping to gingerly pick a few shards out of Steve’s hair and off his shirt. Steve is frozen to the spot. He doesn’t know how long he stands there. When Eddie’s done, he leads Steve over to the couch, sits down and pats the spot next to him.

Steve sinks into the cushions, finally looking him in the eyes.

“Eddie, I—I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he stammers, voice hoarse from crying.

Eddie shakes his head reassuringly, reaching out to place a gentle hand on Steve’s shoulder.

“There’s nothing wrong with you Steve,” he whispers, eyes wide and full of compassion.

Steve’s chest tightens and he looks away, closing his eyes again.

“No. It’s stupid. It’s just a glass. There’s nothing to cry about.” He tries to put confidence behind his words but they come out shaky.

He feels Eddie’s hand move from his shoulder to cup his jaw, tilting his head so Steve is facing Eddie once again. He opens his eyes, tears sticking to his lashes. Even blurry, Eddie is beautiful. It’s not a new thought, but it’s one he thought he filed away—pushed to the back of his mind, something secret.

Eddie leans in until his forehead is pressed against Steve’s and murmurs, “There’s so much to cry about. It’s your turn, Stevie.”

So Steve cries.

He cries until he can’t anymore—until he’s lying on top of Eddie, his tears soaking Eddie’s shirt, breathing along with the steady rise and fall of Eddie’s chest. Steve feels wrapped up in emotion again, but it’s something else this time. Eddie’s holding him and it hurts in a different way.

It hurts like sore muscles, like what he imagines tattoos and piercings to feel like, like laughing so hard his stomach aches, like the way his lips and tongue burn from spicy food.

He doesn’t know what that means yet, but he wonders if Eddie can sense it too. He wonders if Eddie’s scars feel the same as his. He wonders if Eddie’s cheeks turn red when he cries. He wonders how it would feel to press his lips to Eddie’s—lick past the salt of his own tears, slide their tongues together, and kiss him until their mouths taste the same.

He knows it’s not the time. Not yet. But maybe soon.

Steve let himself unravel, and the world didn’t end. Steve let himself shatter, and Eddie was there to help gather the pieces.

He’s always known he can keep himself together. He’s always known he was strong enough, independent enough, brave enough to make it on his own—but for once, it’s nice to know he doesn’t have to.

It’s nice to know he doesn’t want to.

taglist (please feel free to message me or comment if you’d like to be added or removed): @crying-trashcan @littlewildflowerkitten @goodolefashionedloverboi @currently-steddiebrainrot @oaklikethetrees @finalmoondragon @stonersteddie8666 @irregular-child @infinite-orangepeel @justforthedead89 @starry-eyedlune @meccaminayah @anaibis @gothwifehotchner @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @mx-jinxous @freyaforestafay @shotgunhallelujah @subversivecynic @daisyellsong @presidentmaria @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring

#steddie #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #steddie drabble #steve x eddie #eddie munson #steve harrington deserves to break down!!!!!#let that boy cry!

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zylev-blog · 9 months

Text

Excerpt from a fic I’m thinking about writing. Danny is the god of space, Clockwork is the god of time, with Danny being his biological son. Danny can see through time, but it’s limited, so Clockwork still sends him out to fix time

———-

“Barry Allen.”

Barry turned, completely unprepared for the being that stood in front of him. Brilliant white hair that moved without a breeze, light blue skin with the smattering of freckles across his face, vivid, neon green eyes, sharp, pointed ears, and brilliant white teeth that had fangs. The being wore royal blue robes that covered from his neck to his feet, and were free of any logo. On the beings shoulders sat a cape of a vivid black, darker than any fabric Barry had ever seen before. On the inside of the cape were stars and galaxies, along with planets that moved around the cape. Barry didn’t know if the cape was a projection of the galaxy or if it was it’s own seperate galaxy housed inside a cape.

“You have messed with the fabric of time.” The being continued.

The man was around Barry’s age, perhaps early to mid twenties. He stood several inches taller than Barry, who stood at 6”1.

“I—“ He found his mouth as dry as cotton. The being, whoever he was, radiated power unlike anything Barry had ever seen before in his life.

Barry was terrified.

“I’m sorry.” Barry said lamely.

The being tilted his head just slightly, looking at Barry as if he were an animal. “Everything is as it should be, Barry Allen,” The being continued, “However, the fabric of time will become unraveled if we do not correct your anomaly before it solidifies.”

Barry had no idea what the fuck that meant. The confusion must have shown on his face, as the being continued to speak.

“Time is like a river,” the being said, “if you throw a pebble in the stream it will change the surface of the water until the ripples dissipate. We are riding the current, but the ripples through time are becoming more unstable.”

“How do we fix it?” Barry asked.

“Simple. I reset the timeline to the original course.”

Barry frowned. “My mother would go back to being dead though, wouldn’t she?”

“Yes.”

Barry’s eyes narrowed. He knew he didn’t have his metahuman abilities and would likely be killed by this alien if he challenged the man, but he did it anyways. “No.”

Much to Barry’s surprise, the being smiled. “I knew you were going to say that.”

It seemed as if the being was messing with him now. Barry didn’t know what to think of that.

“I don’t want to lose my mom.” Barry said, sadness creeping into his voice.

“Your life has been altered by another being who should not be altering the time stream.” The being responded.

Wait, what?

“I will spare your mother if you assist me in catching this man.”

“Yes!” He agreed immediately. “I’ll do whatever it takes. Just save my mom.”

“Be careful what you wish for, Barry Allen.” The being warned. The being turned to leave, but was stopped by Barry.

“Wait. How do I contact you? And what do I call you?” Barry asked.

“I will contact you when the timeline resets.” The being said, pulling a medallion in the shape of a gear out of thin air and handing it to Barry. “Call me Phantom.”

“What’s this for?” Barry questioned.

“Place it around your moms neck. It will save her from being wrote out of existence.” Phantom replied, then dissappeared into a bright beam of light.

#barry allen #dp dc crossover #dp x dc prompt #dp x dc writing prompt #the flash #flash fiction #flashpoint #danny phantom #ghost king danny #danny is ghost king #Danny is a god #dp x dc fanfic #dp x dc #dp x dc au #dp x dc crossover

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rachalixie · 4 months

Text

eight days of christmas carols - day 6

felix - underneath the tree

a/n: felix is your long distance boyfriend who you've never met in person before. gn!reader.

waking up alone on christmas day was something you never thought you’d experience. waking up to no texts or silly voice messages from felix was even stranger, though. you don’t think a single day had passed since you met him where you didn’t wake up to something. he made up for the fact that you both lived halfway across the world with dedicated attentiveness that he never strayed from, and while it wasn’t something you thought he was obligated to do, it did send a pang of sadness through you when his name didn’t appear along with several texts from your family and friends.

your morning routine doesn’t stray too far from every other day, a pot of coffee brewing and staining the air with its nutty smell as you brush your teeth dazedly.

the thought of a beautiful boy with an even more beautiful heart that you’ve never had the privilege to touch is always on your mind, even more so on a day like today that is meant to spent with ones you love.

a knock at your door brings you out of your monotony with a fierce demand for attention. you hadn’t expected anyone today, you had resigned to spending the entire day alone. you open the door with a sigh on your lips, straightening down your christmas themed pajamas with one hand, but you froze when you saw what was on the other side of the door.

it was a man with soft blonde hair, splattered freckles adorning his cheeks and a shy smile spreading across his lips. there was a bag looped over his shoulder and a tiredness in his eyes that could only have come from hours of travel. despite never having seen him in person, you knew this man.

it was felix.

“i thought i’d surprise you,” he says, a heartbreakingly familiar deep voice escaping from his cupid’s bow shaped lips. “merry christmas?”

“you’re here, where you should be,” you press your hands against his cheeks, your eyes roaming over his face to make sure that he was real. to make sure that the features you had memorized into your head from grainy pixels were just the same in real life. “it just wasn’t the same, being alone on christmas day.”

he leans in, guiding your hands with him as he presses a gentle kiss to your lips. they’re soft, just as soft as they were in your dreams where you’d play fantasies of what it would be like when you finally got to hold him in your arms. you didn’t believe in perfect first kisses, but if anyone was going to make you question what you thought you knew, it was this absolutely angelic man in front of you.

“i brought you a present -“ he cuts himself off, pulling away from you to put his bag down. you stop him before he unzips it, smiling at the way his ears have tinted red - he’s nervous.

“you’re all that i need underneath the tree,” you meet his eyes, trying to pour the boiling emotions within you into him. “everything else can wait, just let me hold you for a minute.”

he wraps you in his arms, his smell engulfing you along with them. at once, all the tension you’d felt in your body released and you all but melt into him, quicker than the snow melting in the winter sun outside.

—

carols masterlist

#stray kids imagines #stray kids fluff #stray kids #skz fluff #felix imagines #felix fluff #felix x reader #felix x y/n #stray kids x reader

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keravnous · 10 months

Text

the hunter! ; tangerine x fem!reader (smut, 18+)

read pt. 1 here | read pt. 2 here | read pt. 3 here

Tangerine expected someone else - but he'll do just fine with you, too.

(Based on that one scene from the Kraven The Hunter trailer where he turns around in that chair with the loaded crossbow)

warnings: kids, this is dark; this is like the darkest version of tangerine my brain has cooked up thus far; he is a sociopath by source sooo: manipulation; dub-con/non-con, coercion, gun kink, anger issues, crying, blood, murder/injuries, daddy kink, masturbation, slight dumbification, name-calling, pet names, corruption kink, spit kink

SO I SAW THE KRAVEN THE HUNTER TRAILER AND I REALLY COULDNT HELP MYSELF

"You fucking asshole!", you scream at the top of your lungs, bursting through the large door of your husband's office. It slams back into the lock just as you come to a halt on the expensive fur carpet in the middle of the spacious room.

His chair is facing the wall, a lit cigarette slowly glimming away in the ashtray. It lights up your rage like a match to gasoline.

"I am fucking speaking to you, you fucking dickhead! Can't you keep your dirty-ass dick out of that disgusting bitch you call a secretary for one day?", you are fuming, heart racing as you stomp down with your left heel, throwing your expensive and ridiculously small purse at him, missing the chair by nearly a whole foot. It crashes into the massive painting hanging behind the desk, where it leaves a nasty cut before falling to ground uselessly.

Your husband does not react and that, oh that, that get's you going alright, makes your blood race through your veins so hard you can hear it in your ears.

"I am fucking speaking to you -- turn the fuck around you coward!", you yell, hands clutched to tight fists, your jewellery cutting into the flesh.

Slowly, comedically slowly even, the chair turns. The man sitting in it puts his feet up on the table, legs clad in an expensive navy pin-stripe as he crosses them. And that --

That is not your husband.

The man, sitting in a chair that clearly isn't his, in an office that surely doesn't belong to him, is lean and a lot more handsome than the man you so reluctantly married a few years ago. His face is expressionless, bland like piece of paper, except for the anger pooling around his eyes. He is wearing an expensive looking pin-stripe suit and his hair is neatly combed back, 70s porn stache trimmed just as carefully - the only thing that looks out of place is the blood splattered on his face like freckles, one large splatter on his left cheek.

He is also pointing a gun at you. An actual fucking gun.

"And who the fuck are you, Lady?", he says, casually, but a little irritated nonetheless.

You choke on your own tongue, backing up a little. This is not good. It has your fight or flight kicking in, muscles in your back and legs tensing up and brain going numb, fingers starting to tingle.

"Don't ya move an inch", he growls, his gun following your movement. You freeze. You wonder if he will actually shoot you. You wonder what he is doing here.

"I-, I--"

The man rolls his eyes at you - pretty, pretty eyes; blue like the sea - and huffs out an exasperated sigh.

"Fuckin' answer me." His tone sends shivers down your spine and, if you did not already do so by his gun, you now know for sure that he is not playing around.

"I-", you take a deep breath, voice shaking and thin, "I- I am Markov's wife?"

It comes out more like a question, than an answer, really. You hope it will do; you hope he is happy with what is the - for you, rather sad - truth.

Tangerine cocks an eyebrow, leans back in the leather chair, gun still pointing at you. "'S that so?"

"Y-yes", you gulp.

"Didn't know he had a wife", he mutters, more to himself, really.

Tangerine can feel how the wheels in his head start to turn - the intel didn't suggest a marriage. It genuinely surprises him - not only because people in this profession rarely have spouses - but also because the young lady in front of him is way too pretty. Angelic, even. Too good for a boastful, careless cockroach of a criminal like Markov is. And he wants her, wants to own her. Wants to take take take. He wonders just how quickly she will break.

You, in the meantime, sense an opening.

"W-what do you want? I can g-give you money", you hastily stumble over the words, anxiety crawling up your spine, "A-all of it!"

The man raises his eyebrows, snorts amused. "No, love, I don't need your money."

"A-anything, p-please - just, just", and the dam breaks, eyes tearing up as your eyes zero in on the gun, "Just please d-don't kill me."

Something in his eyes changes, a dark shadow dancing over his face, eyebrows shooting up in surprise and then he pulls back the hammer of his revolver with his thumb. Your knees buckle a little as you hear the bullet snapping in place.

"Care to say that again, eh?" - Anything for your life, really.

"P-please don't kill me", you nearly sob, voice small and quiet, and you are ready, willing to put it all in there, "Please, I am begging you, Mister. I- I don't know why you're here, this - this is one big misunderstanding, I don't know anything about my husband's business. J-just let me go, please."

He does not move. You don't want to die, you are young, you still have a life to live. Maybe you will finally file for divorce. Maybe you will buy a house in Europe. Maybe, maybe, maybe -- You don't want to die.

"Please."

Tangerine says nothing for a moment, then his lips tilt up. "Tell me, love, d'ya beg for him that prettily, too? Or 's that just f'me?"

You blink. "What?", you blurt out.

"Jus' lemme hear it again, sugar - sounded so sweet, that."

You do not know what game he is playing but you really aren't ready to die yet either, so you give in.

"Please", you beg, looking at him with big, teary eyes - the barrel of the revolver stares back, a small black hole of ultimate death -, "Please, let me live." His lips tilt up and you decide to make a move on it, catch him off-guard.

"I-I'd do anything, I give you whatever you want!", you are growing desperate now, your brain trying its hardest to come up with something that will safe your ass. And that, that has his eyebrows knotting together.

The man seems to mull it over for a short while, eyes you up and down. Your skin tingles with it, feels numb and like it is on fire at the same time. "Did ya just say Anything, love?"

"I-I did, y-yes", and your voice grows desperate, "I'd do anything - just don't kill me, please, what do you want, I'll do --"

You ramble on and Tangerine rolls his eyes at you, exhales annoyed.

"Fuckin' shut up", he growls and you do, chin quivering a little with the tears still pooling in the corners of your eyes. You blink them away, sniffling a little.

"Here's what we're gonna do, love", he smiles cooly, shows his teeth like a predator, eyes drilling into you, "We're gonna have a little fun. And once we're done, I'll let ya go. How does that sound? Agreed?"

You have a suspicion what fun means, both, painfully clear and enforced by the way his gaze wanders over your body and you gulp. You really don't have a choice now, do you?

So you can hear yourself say: "Y-yes."

"Yes --?", he lifts his gun a little, gestures with it, "C'mon be a good girl."

Your eyes widen. You are not stupid; you know what he most likely wants to hear - you have met men like him before your marriage - and despite it making your stomach tingle a little it also makes painfully clear what he is imagining as A little fun.

Your voice is small, fingers fumbling with the hem of your tweed blazer. "Y-yes, Daddy", shivers run down your spine as his eyes turn dark dark dark, gaze transfixed by you and then he barks out a mean laugh.

"Fuckin' hell", what?, "I wanted you to thank me, you dumb fuckin' thing, not be a complete 'n utter slut about it."

Shame burns on your cheeks and you scramble for words - anything to say, to excuse or justify yourself - as mortification swallows you whole, crawls up your spine and mingles with your fear, has your head swimming.

"What a poor lil' airhead ya are", he grins at you meanly, "But I like it, go 'head, keep callin' me that. Probably gets you all wet, dunnit?"

You shake your head wildly - "N-no" - bottom lip quivering a little and he knows you are lying.

And Tangerine starts to grow bored. He has been feeling quite bored for a good while - since he blew Markov's lights out to be exact. He wishes he had not done it so soon, would have rather tied him up and let him watch how he has his way with his wife. Tangerine sighs, puffs his cheeks and let’s go off a breath dramatically, looks you straight in the eye.

"Alright, listen. I just don't have all day, so ya better get going, before I pop ya too", he waves his revolver at you, "Get undressed. 'n do it slowly."

You nod - I don't want to die, I don't want to die, I don't want to die - fingers brush over the first button of your blazer, as he interrupts you: "Ah ah ah, what d'ya say?"

Your eyelids flutter and your knees feel like giving in. "Y-yes, Daddy."

Tangerine hums deep in his throat. "Atta girl - now keep going."

With shaking hands, cold sweat pooling between your fingers, you start to slowly unbutton the first few buttons of your costume's blazer. It's a Chanel tweed set, since you had just been out with some friends for lunch, before one of them told you about what had she'd seen yesterday. Part of you wishes you had never left the restaurant, just shrugged it off and ordered another drink instead. You don't even know why you fight for this marriage - you never really spoke to him; he never touched you or even really looked at you - not that you minded that much. But it's losing your status, the money he brings in, that you'd miss and thus, you had grown a nice pair of manicured claws over time.

See where that got you.

Your blazer falls to the ground with a thud and Tangerine licks his lips. And that is when another part of you, very quietly at the back of your mind, is a little glad you came here. It's in his eyes mostly, a strange and unknown hunger, like an animal gone wild. And it ignites something in you, shoots pleasure straight down your loins and has your breath hitching.

No one, no one has ever looked at you like that, like he is close to dashing over the desk and swallowing you whole, eating you up and ripping you apart with razor-sharp teeth.

Your blouse follows next, as you pop open the first few buttons, pulling the thin fabric out of your short tweed skirt. It flows to the ground shortly after, leaves you in your bra, skirt, and heels. Tangerine does not give you as much as a few seconds to accommodate to being partially exposed to him, his eyes gleaming dangerously.

"Skirt's next, darlin'."

You inhale audibly through your lips and Tangerine chuckles quietly at that as you unhook the clasp on your skirt, slooowly pulling down the zipper at the side. You feel ridiculous, like a very bad caricature of a housewife stripping for her husband. It's nothing like you imagined it to be, fingers buried deep inside of you, imagining your husband to be someone else, someone prettier, someone who valued you - someone who you'd love to get dirty for. You don't feel sexy or tempting - but to him you certainly do look the part, the way your body quivers and shakes, all shy by avoiding his gaze.

The expensive tweed falls to the floor and you step out of the fabric of your clothing, pooling around your feet. You gulp, carefully looking up at him. You wonder if he likes what he sees, if it's enough for him to spare your life, to --

Tangerine's heart skips a beat, a sharp noise erupting in his ears. The lingerie you are wearing, a stunning pale-pink lace set, hugs your curves nicely and leaves nothing to the imagination - with the way your nipples poke through the bra, the string cupping your cunt, dipping a little into the cleft of your folds.

He can also see the damp patch on your lacey string and it makes his dick rock-hard, pressing against his slacks. He lifts an eyebrow, as he looks at you. "Who would've thought", and you blush, swallowing, "He married a common whore."

The humiliation burns on your cheeks, turns them red and your mouth goes dry, but there's also fresh wetness pooling between your legs at his words. Oh, you are fucked.

He reads you like an opened book, watches you shifting uncomfortably. "Say it", he whispers softly.

You swallow, licking your lips, before replying quietly: "I am a common whore - Daddy."

"That you are, darlin', aren't ya", Tangerine grins, "Get that bra off, show me what ya got."

You reach back and unclasp the soft lace, pulling the strings over your shoulders and down your arms, carelessly throwing the fabric to the side. Tangerine tilts his head a little, his eyes assessing your tits. He seems satisfied, waves his revolver at you.

"Touch yourself, I wanna see those pretty tits movin'", swallowing, your hands come up, damp with cold sweat and cup your tits, bouncing and squeezing them a little, pressing them together. You do not dare looking at him, gaze focussed on the desk instead, hands brushing over your breasts.

You just started rolling your left nipple between your index finger and thumb, gasping quietly, the slight pain and pleasure running straight between your legs as he suddenly moves. You flinch, arms immediately clutching around your exposed chest while he gets up, deliberately strolls over to you.

Maybe he is not satisfied, he surely isn't, it must've been too little, not enough he's gonna kill you, kill you, kill you --

"Such perfect fuckin' tits", he weighs his revolver in his hands, the metal of it clinking against his rings, and closes in on you. "Have ya been touched often?", the barrel of the gun hooks underneath your chin and your lift your head with it obediently, looking up at him. Adrenaline pumps through your veins, your eyes big and teary again. You don't think he's one to slip on the trigger but it still has anxiety crawling up your spine - don't kill me, don't kill me, don't kill me --

"Answer me, ya stupid twat."

You just wish he would take that fucking gun away from your face.

"N-no", you answer truthfully. The last time you had sex was literal ages ago, in your time at Harvard. Since your parents had married you off you haven't been touched by another fucking human being, assured so by the constant observation of your husband's men. He was allowed to cheat, but God forbid you had some fun. So, you had retreated to fucking yourself, lacking any physical contact, making every single time you masturbated feel shallow and incomplete. Tangerine watches the way your face changes as you reminisce.

"Oh, ya poor thing", he coos, his hand coming up to cup your cheek and you look up at him, "Bet that felt horrible, didn't it?"

And you nod, his thumb caressing your cheek and you get a first good look at him. He is really pretty. The blood looks good on him, bright red in a glooming contrast to his blue eyes. Your head swims with it a little. "How did that make ya feel, eh?"

"Lonely", you croak, before you can stop yourself, a few tears running down your cheeks, pooling between his fingers and rings.

He hums in his throat. "Bet it did", something dances across his eyes, "D'ya want someone to take care of ya? D'ya want to stop feeling so bloody lonely all the time?"

The truth behind his words runs you over like a freight train, barely leaves you wondering with how he got that about you so fast, brain erupting in a static noise.

You do. You feel lonely, locked up in a golden cage of money and bodyguards, with no one opening its door to spend some time with the little bird inside.

"Y-yeah", you whisper, blinking away the tears.

"Wanna know something, love?", and you nod, carefully, not to spook him into shooting, "I could be that person. How's that sound, eh? I could keep ya safe -"

Tangerine's hand leaves your cheek and touches your waist instead, a feather-light touch that has goosebumps spreading all over your body.

"I could touch ya -", his hand sprawls over your lower back, "'N keep you happy, get ya lots'n lots of pretty, sparkly things."

Your breath hitches, brain slowly growing mushy because - because, despite the gun underneath your chin, that does sound heavenly. It sounds easy. Painless. Better. A little exciting even.

"C'mon, how's that sound?", he coos, hand running over your back, to your side again, thumb toying with the hem of your string.

"Sounds so good, Daddy", you sigh, images of a new life, a different life flashing by.

"Mh, I know it does. I could take you with me, make ya mine. You'd love that, wouldn't ya?", his fingers dance over your abdomen, dipping lower and between your legs. His thumb presses down on the damp patch, rubs over your clit, his bracelet rustling.

And it is like your brain has completely given up, surrendering yourself to this very handsome man. But you just can't since - "I-I am married", you croak, a little helplessly, like you don't quite know what to make out of that either.

He does, anger flickering behind his eyes like someone pulled a lighter out and ignited his gaze.

Tangerine growls, the barrel of his revolver pressing against your temple roughly, thumb rubbing smaller circles over your clit through your dampened string, "You belong to me now, d'ya understand? There's nothing he can do about it, y'hear me?"

"Y-yes Daddy, I do", you whine, eyelids fluttering and small tears running down your cheeks.

"Oh, stop fuckin' crying - I can feel how wet ya little cunt's gotten, fuckin' slut", and you blink up at him, a small gasp escaping your mouth as your gazes meet through teary eyes.

You just look so fucking hot to him. Adrenaline from his kill still pumps through his veins and it makes him so so mad, his ears ringing. He feels like he is about to fucking burst and your tears only spurr him on, making something in his stomach growl, stretching its claws out.

Tangerine is too far gone already, everything tinted red red red and he just wants to lash at you, bury his teeth in your throat and end your life like that, bury his dick deep inside of you and feel you twitch around him while blood spurts from your open wound, flows from your mouth. He wants.

But you are also so very very pretty to him, tears running down your cheeks, lips plush and quivering a little and nipples hard like glass, testing his patience with the way they poke out at him.

"Or actually, don't", his lips curl up into a cold smile, "I like to see you cry, hm? Y'real pretty like this."

And you sob heavily, his words making your head swim. Pretty pretty pretty - when was the last time someone called you pretty?

"Oh, darlin'", Tangerine whispers, gun grazing your temple, thumb rubbing small and hard circles on your clit, "Don't be hurt by Daddy, hm? I don't mean to hurt ya, now do I?"

"N-no", you shake your head a little, "Di-didn't hurt m-me."

"Mhm, you are such a good girl, aren't ya? Never hurt by your new Daddy, eh?"

You shake your head again but this time, his face grows stern. "Ah ah ah, words, love. Use your words."

"N-no, y-you could never hurt me."

"Yeah, I couldn't, how could I? I can say anything to you, call you whatever I like and you would never be hurt, would ya?"

And you do not want him to be angry, do not want him to think that he could hurt you - so that he doesn't accidentally slip and does just that - and you notice that fresh tears stream down your cheeks.

"I-I wouldn't, no", you blink away the tears and Tangerine smiles at you.

"That's right. I can call you whatever I like", his thumb speeds up and you moan sweetly, "What d'ya think? Doesn't slut fit you well?"

He says it with such adoration that you cannot help but sigh, nodding. "Y-yeah, it does", you reply quietly, ready to wear it with pride.

"Alright then, slut - take that sorry excuse of a panty off."

You follow his command, shaking fingers hooking underneath the hem of your string, pulling it down slowly.

"Faster, you dumb fuckin' slut."

"Uh-huh", you mumble, nodding, and hastily shoving your string down your legs until it falls down and pools at your feet - a pretty pink on a bright fur carpet. Now, with being fully naked, you feel incredibly vulnerable.

You still wonder if he really won't hurt you. You decide that if you stick by rules, he most likely won't.

Tangerine slowly walks around you, like a predator surrounding its prey, then comes to a halt behind you. The barrel of his revolver presses against the nape of your neck and then glides over your body - down down down - cold metal against warm skin, and then he reaches around your waist. The gun grazes your abdomen and slips between your legs, barrel running cooly through your folds. And you can't hold back the moan crawling up your throat, parting your lips, has you inhaling sharply.

"Yeah, that's more like it, innit?", he rubs the cold metal along your folds, "I can fuckin' smell how wet your cunt is."

And you can hear it, too - the way your pussy squelches obscenely around the barrel, wetness dripping down your thighs. Your knees buckle as the metal rubs along your clit, has you moaning shyly.

Tangerine wraps one arm around you, holds you upright with your back pressed flush against his chest and your heartbeat starts to pick up as you feel his hard dick pressing against your ass, hotly through his slacks.

"Lift your leg, love", he whispers, moustache brushing over the shell of your ear and you comply like you are a fucking robot, and his large hand wraps around the back of your knee, holds your leg up. You mewl as the gun wanders further, barrel brushing against your hole and then dips in with barely any effort, so so slick by your juices and your breath hitches, whole body trembling as the cold metal enters you.

"O-oh", you gasp dumbly, your body sacking back against him. The barrel isn't too big, barely larger than a finger, and rather short but it still feels - good? Tangerine starts to fuck you with it slowly, moves the gun in and out of you and your head swims with the thought, that he could just pull the trigger and blow your lights out, could leave you here bleeding to death.

Your legs start to shake, anxiety and lust mingling dangerously, and in a desperate attempt for any leverage your hand shoots up, reaches back and finds the back of his neck, clutches onto it, fists the pristine white banker's collar of his shirt.

"Yeah, that feels fuckin' good, dunnit?"

"Uh-huh", you breathe, the cold metal pumping in and out of you has lust pooling your stomach and you look down to where his tattooed arm wraps around your waist, where the black sparrow and the golden bracelet vanish along your pussy - watching the way you can see the grip and trigger moving against your folds.

You should be scared, afraid of him and afraid of the gun fucking into you - but you just aren't. Lust washes over your brain, makes everything go just a little hazy, wraps you in cotton candy - hot and syrupy, sweet.

"My god - shit", you breathe, your cunt aching to be touched and you wish for the barrel to just be a bit longer, able to fuck you properly, reach the parts only his cock could - the one that's pressing against your ass hotly, pulsing through his slacks. Instead, you roll your hips once, best you can with his iron grip on your thigh, meeting the thrusts of his gun.

It has you whining, the way the cold metal presses against your hot and slick skin, throwing your head back, resting on his shoulder. Tangerine moves in, like a hungry animal, lips and stache brushing over your exposed shoulder, tickling the naked skin while his eyes wander down your body - taking in your desperate thrusts, bouncing tits and hard nipples. You are fucking hot, maybe the hottest thing he has seen in a while, hotter than the tarts he fucks sometimes.

You seem clean - innocent and virginal and it nearly makes him bust a nut thinking about you: on all fours crawling towards him, sucking his cock until your throat bruises and you are a crying mess, tied to the bedposts taking him like a good fucking personal sex doll would. He groans against your skin, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your leg.

The sound has you vibrating. It leaves you wanting, wanting to feel more, to feel full; to hear more of him, more of where that came from. You can't hold yourself back. "D-daddy", you moan, the feeling of his hard dick pressing against you and the warmth that his firm chest radiates leaving you a little dizzy, "N-need your cock."

Tangerine chuckles against your shoulders. "Oh, now you're wantin' something, eh? What about me, love? What about our little deal?"

"'S for y-you, too", you whine helplessly.

"Oh no no no", he sounds genuinely amused, presses the gun snugly against your aching cunt and your legs tremble, "Don't ya try to get me all soft 'n shit, hm? You'll lose, love, you'll lose."

His tongue darts out, licks a fat stripe over your neck, testing your sweat mingling with your expensive perfume. It takes all his willpower not bury his teeth into your soft flesh until he draws blood and life fades from your eyes.

"N-need m-more", you gasp, hole clenching around the short barrel, cunt needy and aching and squirting against his fingers and the gun in anticipation.

"Well, then -- Why don't ya show me how you got yourself off all those years, hm? Show me how to work that sweet cunt of yours", his lips brush over the nape of your neck and your knees buckle at the soft touch, "Show Daddy how to do it."

Tangerine pulls the gun out of you and you gasp, eyelids fluttering, hole clenching around nothing at the loss, wanting the friction back and he slowly puts your leg back down. His hand brushes up your thigh and waist, rests on your shoulder, presses down a little. And you turn to puddy in his hands, knees giving in and you sink down, landing on your knees with a soft thud.

The fur feels soft around your knees and you lay your head back obediently, looking up at him through hazy eyes. You can see him swallowing, licking his lips. His revolver drips with your juices.

His hand grabs your chin, slight pressure on your throat and then he moves in, rubs his crotch over the back of your head. You can feel his hard, big dick against your skull and you can't help your mind from wandering there, wondering how might he taste.

"Feel that? That's what ya fuckin' slutty behaviour does t'Daddy", he bows down, grins at you and then, without warning, spits.

You flinch as his saliva hits your face, lands across your forehead and you cheeks. His thumb spreads it out, rubs it into your skin and you moan, humiliation pooling in your stomach and shooting down between your legs.

Tangerine chuckles, straightens back up and the hand leaves your face, your throat. "Spread ya legs, I wanna see what's gonna be mine."

You comply, sitting down on your ass and planting your feet in front of you, heels digging into the soft fur. He strolls around you, makes is way back to the desk.

"'N you fuckin' whore better put on a fuckin' good show for me, too", he growls, "It's what ya want, innit? Be a good girl f'me?"

It kind of is. The part of your brain that just doesn't want to die is oddly silent. There is something else, something that buries its claws deep deep in your mind and tears and tears and tears until everything is a little mushy and your brain complies - good girl good girl good girl.

Tangerine leans against the table, crosses his feet and places his hands on the edges, gun dangling from his slender fingers. "C'mon love, ya better don't wanna keep me waiting."

You look down at yourself and a surprised gasp leaves you mouth - you are incredibly wet, thighs sticky with your own juices. You run your fingers through your folds in awe, feeling your own slick, and you moan as you brush by your clit. You need more, body and cunt aching for it and your index finger starts to rub over your clit.

Squelching sounds erupt between your legs and you mewl at the sensation, your cunt so responsive, hole fluttering and your free hand darts out, grabs the fur beneath you.

"Such a pretty fuckin' cunt ya got", and your gaze darts up at him, stomach doing a funny little flip as your eyes meet his, breath hitching in your throat.

Tangerine licks his lips, gestures with his gun. "Rub faster, I wanna hear more of ya sweet moans, slut."

You comply immediately, rubbing your clit faster and you do moan for him, gasping with the pleasure shooting through your body, igniting your nerves. You throw your head back, not waiting for his next instruction, adding a second finger, rubbing large and quick circles around your clit, hips bucking and rolling against them, heightening the sensation.

Arching your back you moan and gasp, lust swallowing you whole and taking over your brain - eradicating anything and everything despite the need to feel more more more.

"C'mon, I know you wan'it, push one in and finger yourself", and your other hand flies to your wanton pussy; index finger briefly, impatiently circling your hole before eagerly dipping in, burying itself deep in one quick thrust. You hiss, quickly exchanged by a sweet gasp as you bottom your finger out.

You start to move it in and out of you, rubbing it along your walls and you can't help but sink onto your back, mewling as it enters you deeper, slips back in more easily. You feel so so dirty, naked in nothing but your jewellery and heels with his spit across your face, but you have never felt better either.

"O-one more, please", you beg, "Please, let me have one more."

Don't you just beg so prettily? He wonders if you will beg like that when he will shove a plug up your ass and fuck your throat, stuffing your cunt with a vibrator. He wonders if you will ask for another one to fuck your ass.

Oh, he will ruin you alright. "Since you ask so nicely", he coos, "Go ahead, slut. Whatever ya need."

Pushing a second finger in, the circles you rub on your clit become smaller and faster. You moan in rhythm with your fingers thrusting into you, curling them a little. Your legs go a little limp, knees darting away from each other, giving him an even better view of your assault on your pussy, the way your slick spreads up to your thighs. Your cunt gushes around your fingers as you force them in deeper, squirts against your hand.

Tangerine watches you coming apart smugly, weighs his revolver in his hands. Who would've thought a simple gun was enough to get you to buckle, give in and surrender yourself to him?

You are his now, he will never let you got. He will keep you and train you and make you needy and dumb for no one else but him.

The thought nearly makes his chest burst with the power trip it sends him on, and he spreads his legs a little, feels his hard cock pressing against his slacks. He can't fucking wait to get in that sweet sweet cunt of yours - show you how a real man fucks his wife, fucks what belongs to him. Tangerine can see, even from where he is standing, that you are fucking tight - the way your hole stretches around your delicate fingers has him licking his lips.

He can't fucking wait to claim you.

"Yeah, I can see he never fucked you properly", Tangerine rasps, shakes his head in silent disapproval as you mewl, arching your back, "I'd take care of you, y'know? Y'want that, don't ya?"

You nod nod nod, moaning as your fingers brush over your walls, stretching you out as you scissor yourself open - thinking about how good his huge fucking dick would feel inside of you instead - your hole fluttering around your digits.

"Bet ya do, lil' slut. Daddy's gonna take real good care of ya, ya'd never ever have to think again. Jus' lemme do the thinking."

"Shit, please, yes", you moan, rocking down on your fingers, pushing a third one in. You are so so full, juices squelching around your hole and wetting your hand and the fur underneath you but it's not enough. You start to pump the in and out of you quicker, deep thrusts hitting the spot inside of you just right.

"Yeah, I'd tell you exactly what to do", Tangerine hums, "I'd be coming home and tell my little slut to bend over the fuckin' kitchen table, stuff her tight 'n needy holes, 'n what would she say?"

"I-I'd thank y-you", you nearly cry out, your whole body feeling light and shuddering at the thought.

"Mhm, atta girl - and if I put ya pretty throat on a leash? Drag ya through the house and stuff ya full of toys? What would ya say to Daddy?"

"T-thank you, Daddy", you huff, chest heaving with your rapidly approaching orgasm, legs tensing up and toes curling.

"And what would ya say when I let ya cum, slut?"

"Thank you!", you sob, the two fingers on your clit rubbing mercilessly, your other hand fucking you hard and fast.

"That's a good girl. Lemme hear it then, cum you fuckin' whore."

Your orgasm hits you like a fucking train, your cunt pushing your fingers out as you convulse around them - a high pitched chant Thank you thank you thank you falling from your lips. Your arms fall to the side uselessly as you ride your orgasm out, wave after wave of warm squirt wetting the fur, as you moan and roll your hips, leaving you breathless.

Your eyes flutter open as you hear footsteps, see him approaching. He is still holding his revolver, the outline of where his large cock is pressing angrily against his expensive trousers.

"Too sad your husband couldn't just see that, eh?", there is genuine joy marking Tangerine's features, making his bright eyes gleam.

Oh shit - that reminds you of something.

"W-where is he?", you croak, legs still shaking with your recent orgasm, body sinking into the fur.

"Oh, love", he seems to smile at you, but his eyes don't join in on his lips tilting up, "He's right 'ere, ain't he?"

He points his revolver away from you, to the side and your eyes warily follow the movement. There is nothing there except the locked closet and --

And a dark pool of something on the ground, a trail of it slooowly creeping your way over the polished floor boards. It looks like-

You stretch your arm out, fingers darting out and the index finger dipping into the liquid. It's still warm and sticky.

And red. It does not take a genius to get what it is.

Tangerine licks his lips as he watches you, how realization creeps in, changes your facial expression. You look horrified and his dick twitches at the sight.

He closes in on you, bows down over your exposed body and grabs your hand roughly, pulls it in. "Would'ya mind cleaning that up f'me, love?", and your eyelids flutter and you do, like you are on autopilot, licking your dead husband's blood from your finger.

"Mhm", Tangerine hums and you gag a little around the metallic taste, which makes his face light up. He pulls his finger from your mouth, unbuckles his belt instead. "I think, I really might just keep ya."

"Y-you said you'd let me go", you gasp as his hand dips between your legs.

"Well, love - change of plans, innit?"

#tangerine #tangerine bullet train #tangerine x reader #tangerine x y/n #tangerine imagine #kraven the hunter #kraven #my writing #smut #bullet train #bullet train 2022

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hawkins-losers · 2 years

Text

A new look | Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Eddie cut his hair. You don’t know how to feel.

Word count: 0.5k

Request: Eddie cutting his hair and reader’s reaction pleassseee

The words came out of your mouth the second Eddie revealed his new body modification.

‘’What did you do to your hair?’’

‘’I cut them.’’

Your vision blurred with tears, the long strands you liked to run your hair through while he laid his head on your lap no longer there. Gone. ‘’Why?’’

Eddie rubbed the back of his neck. ‘’I don’t know. The initial plan was a trim, but it ended up being a little more. I wasn't sure at first but, it’s not that bad, right?’’

Bad wouldn't be the word you’d employ. Different, definitely, but not bad. This man could not look bad even if he tried. Not even in the morning with wild hair, a pillow print on his face and drool on the corner of his mouth.

‘’But I liked your hair. I thought you liked them too.’’

‘’I do. I did, but it'll grow back.’’

Without his long mane, you could see better the moles on his jawline and all the freckles on his face. He looked younger - somehow. Boyish. His Bambi eyes stood out more, and you could now see his ears and jawline, making you want to kiss along it.

‘’What am I going to do when you go down on me? I can’t pull at your hair anymore.’’

Eddie laughed loudly. ‘’This is why I love you. Out of all the things you could’ve said, you thought about that.’’ He shook his head, grinning.

‘’But I really like doing that. You like it too,’’ you pointed, recalling the sounds he made while you tugged on his hair not later than last night as you pushed him further in, on the verge of orgasming.

‘‘I’m sure you can still tug a little.’‘

You made grabby hands at him and he sat down on the bed right before you, allowing you a closer look at his new hair-do. Automatically, you ran your fingers through the front, seeing how short it really was. There was still a bit of length, which you’ll still be able to pull at, but the back faded into much shorter. You twisted your fingers, testing the new material, and smiled. Good. There was still a bit of grip.

‘‘I guess I can make it work.’‘

‘‘Told you.’‘ Eddie smiled at you.

‘‘I’m gonna miss your old hair, though...’‘

His smile dropped, your words making him suddenly self-conscious and starting to regret his impulsive decision to cut his hair. ‘‘Do you...eh not like me the same without my long hair?’‘

'’Just because I’m sad it is gone doesn’t mean I don’t like the new look. It’s gonna take me a moment to get used to - and I think you too -, but my feelings for you are the same. I love you for you.’‘

He nodded, feeling lighter. '’I’m still me. Just…with a new haircut.’’

‘’Exactly.’’

You pressed your forehead against Eddie’s, smiling at him with love in your eyes. He took advantage of the close proximity to peck your lips, making you smile wider and wrap your arms around his neck, feeling his warm skin instead of his hair.

‘’Was it like that when you grew out the buzz cut?’’ you asked, biting back a laugh, knowing how Eddie despised being reminded of that era.

He grimaced at the memories and groaned, hiding his face in your shoulder. ‘’The buzz cut was horrible and it was my uncle’s fault. He used to be in the army, that’s all he knew. I regret telling you about that.’’

‘’It’s unfortunate I don’t have a visual. Wayne told me you got a school picture somewhere.’’

‘’Which you will never see.’’

You pouted, then pulled him down on the bed with you.

Taglist: @broadway-or-noway @violetsleftfist @thelaststraw3 @cursedandromedablack @Slashersimpfor @savagejane1 @wh0reforbucknasty @eddiemunson-slut @slvdsjjk @hehehehannahthings @dreamdancers-world @grace-loux @iamharrystyleslover @matildavol6 @Original_babababoo @eddiemunsonbby @notbeforelong

Eddie Munson taglist: @nighttwingg @yourfavoriteakutagawakinnie @heizenka @eddiemvunsongf @Eddie_munsons_girlfriend @magicalchocolatecheesecake @eddiemunsonistheloveofmylife @avril-reblog-cave @Fandomfaeryreads @harrys-tittie @straycatarang

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things s4 #eddie stranger things

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peaches-creek · 4 months

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It had been years since he had last seen you, his girl. You weren’t his girl, but you were his girl. He had only been Jason again for maybe a year or so, leaving the Arkham Knight in the past, and bringing the Red Hood into the light. He was still brining himself back, still having days where he feels nothing but rage. Days where he feels disgust, sadness, trauma. He has to be able to feel those things before he is able to love anyone else, not that he wants anyone else, you are it for him. You loved him for the little Jason that would show up on your doorstep with bruised and scraped knees, a belly needing to be filled. Instead of telling him to find help elsewhere, that you can’t let him in because your father would absolutely flip, you quietly let him in.

As he sits on your little twin bed, he takes in your room and pays attention to the small things. The pretty little pink flowers on your sheets, the Justin Bieber poster beside your desk. He scoffs at that. He notices the little finger paintings your younger sister made you, the well loved stuffed animals, and the little tea cup set you had at your play table. The last thing he payed attention to, while you gathered as many band-aids aid alcohol pads as your little 9 year old hands could hold, was all the knitted scarves and hats you had around your room. One was pink, another blue with a white rim, many rainbow colored ones, but the one that looked the warmest, was the red one. It had a white Pom-pom on top with little red laces on the bottom to tie it tight around your squishy little face. He imagined you in it, with your puffy cheeks. You scurry back into the room.

“Okay so these kinda sting,’’ you say ripping open an alcohol wipe, “I can hold your hand if you want.” You were half teasing. You did want to hold his hand but you knew he was like a scared rabbit, if you moved too fast he would scamper back into the darkness.

“I think I will manage, barely.” he smirks. He wanted to hold your hand too.

You payed attention to him as well. You payed attention to how his knees weren’t just bruised, but scarred. How his teeth were only a bit crooked. His hair was curly in the most perfect way, with a little curl falling right in front of his face. His freckles and blue eyes. You loved everything about him. You also noticed those pretty little blue eyes looking at your red hat.

“My nana makes those y’know,” you chirp, “she can make you one if you want.”

“I’m all set.” He says, looking away.

“Alright. Well guess what happened the other day! I went to the store and I found…” You rambled on, getting back to doctoring his knees.

He spent the remaining time of the night listening to insignificant stories about your little life. About the silly man you saw wearing a bright yellow suit and pink polka dot shoes. About the stray cat with one eye. He started looking at you again, looking at your funny little bed head, cowlick sticking straight up. Your blue striped pajama set. Bunny slippers. Everything about you was cute, you were only a year or so younger than him.

You met him at the Gotham Public library. You were both looking for books on mythology, he was looking for Greek while you were looking for Norse, different but alike, just like the pair of you. Ever since then, you were always around one another. He walked you home from school, made sure you got into your apartment okay. He would go to the park with you, push you on the swings. He even read you stories when you were sick and your mother let him in to see you. I mean, how could you deny him, he looked like a kicked puppy when he found out you couldn’t play.

You weren’t like the other city kids, you were kind. That’s why he liked you so much. All the obstacles you overcame, and you were still forgiving and patient. He envied that. Everything he went through made him angry and unforgiving. He would tell you about that, but you would just tell him that there’s two sides to every coin, and he didn’t know what the hell that meant. Sometimes you just said stuff.

You finished up with a quick kiss to his knees and exclaimed that you were all done. You turned on your heel and walked right over to the little red hat. You walked right back over to him and put in on his head.

“It’s a little too big for me, but it fits you just right!”

“I can’t take this.” He says, without taking it off.

“Yes, you can.” You quip.

“No I can’t.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Jason Peter Todd I will win the fight and you know it.” You giggle.

His response is nonverbal, just a huff. You smile.

He moves toward the window in your room, opens it and climbs onto the fire escape. He takes one last look into your lovely room and one last look at your lovely face. He waves his hand at you, beckoning you to come to him. He presses one little kiss to your cheek and quickly, but quietly he shuts the window. Then he’s gone, probably going home, leaving you with a red hot face and a goofy smile.

#jason todd #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd fluff #jason todd imagine #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd headcanon #mygirl!verse

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sweetracha · 4 months

Note

No thoughts only building snowmen with felix and then him getting grumpy bc yours looks cuter

Do you Wanna Build a Snowman?

"Lixie come on! You're going to catch a cold" you said as you rounded the corner in your new home.

"It'll all melt away! Hurry" Felix sounded like a little child worried about his double chocolate cookie crunch extreme scoop of ice cream.

Who could blame him though? Felix couldn't remember the last time he had seen snow. You mentioned how badly the streets would thick over with ice and be packed with white as far as the eye could see. To Felix, this could never be a bad thing. How could it be?

You ran through a mental checklist, ensuring you were both ready for the cold about to hit you. Sure, you were used to it by now but somedays the winter bites back. Felix on the other hand was ready to run out blind to his death, the Aussie would never survive without you.

Thick socks? Check.

Warm boots? Check.

Pants with leggings underneath? Double-check

Long sleeves? Check

Coats? Check and a matching check as Felix insisted you two had to have a matching set.

Gloves? Check much to Felix's complaining

And finally, a hat to keep your head warm? Check!

When you opened the front door, Felix dashed out with excitement. You couldn’t help but laugh a bit at the pure joy on his face. He found the thickest pile of snow in the middle of your yard, where your garden used to be, and fell to his knees. You should have guessed the gloves would have been long forgotten by now as he feels the snow melt on his bare skin. There was no way to sneak up beside him as the unmistaken crunch of packed snow sounded from under your feet. You crouched next to him and took in all his beauty. It was his first life, wasn’t it?

“Lixie baby?” You asked softly, not wanting to disturb his fun. All you got back was a simple hum to acknowledge he was listening. “Do you want to build a snowman?” You thought he was about to die from how quickly he lit up.

“Yes! We could make a cute snow couple!” His mind went running with ideas.

“Pixie, have you ever built a snowman?”

“No but how hard could it be? Animal crossing taught me everything I need to know.”

Oh how wrong he was. Felix quickly realized he had put too much confidence in his ability to build a snow person. It wasn’t meant to be a competition but he decided himself to make it one. Then he looked over at yours, almost finished while he was barely started.

Yours was perfectly round and white.

His was lumpy and had random mud stains all over.

Yours was perfectly proportional.

His head always ended up being bigger than the middle.

Yours had arms specifically grown by Mother Nature herself.

His looked as if a dog dragged them in.

Even the face on your snowman looked perfect! Brown buttons you stole out of the craft drawer, a little carrot nose from the fridge, little pebbles curved up into the biggest smile. You even broke off tiny flakes of bark to make the freckles on your snowman!

Wait…freckles…on a snowman? Brown buttons, a big smile, a blue scarf, a matching hat, Felix’s missing gloves, and freckles.

“Y/n!” He didn’t know what to say so he decided to scream your name to get your attention. However, that backfired miserably as you fell straight on your butt onto the cold ground.

“Felix!” You yelled back. He ran as fast as he could to save you.

“I’m sorry…I just..your snowman…he is…”

“He is you!” Felix swore the smile you shared could have cleared the skies. “Do you like him?”

“I LOVE HIM!!!” He got up close and personal to inspect every little detail. “How?”

“I’ve had some practice” He fell for your giggle every time.

“Mine looks so…sad” Just then the oversized head rolled off and smashed into pieces.

“Maybe I can help you? I bet we could make him a real find!” Felix liked this idea much more than the competition he was participating in.

“Gotta make Snowlix the perfect man!” Felix stated as if it was an indisputable fact.

“So snowbin, got it”

The Sweetest Batch: @goblinracha @kaciidubs @channieandhisgoonsquad @comet-falls @ddyskz @jiminskies @j-onedrabbles @lixiesweetbrownie @marrivmel @caitlyn98s

#stray kids #skz #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #lee felix #felix fluff #lee felix x reader

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firsttimewriter92 · 1 year

Text

Schilling for your thoughts Part 1

König x f!reader

Summary: You meet a peculiar man at your favourite bookstore and after talking to him a little bit, you wonder if you´ll ever see him again

Part 2 here Part 3 here

Word count: 2.538

Warnings: bit awkward, lots of fluff, German speaking, light cursing, pining König, military talk

Authors note: Yes, I am one of those who believe that König is a ginger, freckled, mighty sweetheart. (I was trying to find this amazing fanart I saw of him that basically started this fic, but I can´t find it again!! I´m sad; It´s so good) Only slightly awkward but he knows how to let someone know he´s interessted. He´ll only unleash the beast on the battlefield, that´s it. I will die on this hill!! Social anxiety, yes. But he´s not completely incapable of interacting with a person<3

Happily you skipped through the door of your favourite little bookstore. Bell chiming over your head, you saw the owners head appear from underneath the counter, instantly smiling at you.

“I just put them on the shelve,” she winked at you. “Shelve 12, row 10.” Rushing by her you squealed a thank you in her direction and hurried into the back of the store. You had been waiting for this book for ages. When you found out your favourite author was releasing a new book after almost 6 years of abstinence, you immediately let Lucy the owner know. This morning she called you excitedly, telling you the book finally arrived.

You made your way over to the back of the store. It was packed with ceiling high shelves, little tables and armchairs scattered across the room, most of them in front of the three large windows. You loved spending your time in this controlled area of chaotic furniture choices, colours and smells of coffee, old and new books and slightly dusty air.

Usually you favoured this establishment not just because of the atmosphere and Lucy´s motherly warm nature but also because most of the time, it was pleasantly empty and quiet. Quiet it was this time as well but you couldn´t help but notice the man sitting in one of the armchairs in front of the windows. A huge volume in his hands, his face almost buried in it. Something about the way he was sitting seemed odd to you. Not being able to put your finger on what it was exactly you shrugged mentally and made a beeline towards shelve 12.

Grumbling a little you remembered the row number Lucy gave you. 10. Great, you thought. You didn´t have to hide them that well so I could be the first one to get a copy, Lucy. Craning your neck you looked for the bright red and silver book back you knew your newest little treasure would have. There! You grinned and hopped a little as you whipped your head around the room, looking for the step ladder you knew Lucy kept here somewhere. Not being able to find it immediately your impatience took over. With a little grunt you began pushing one of the armchairs towards the shelve. “Damn it, Lucy. Why do you have such an obsession with antient furniture?” You cursed quietly under your breath. “So heavy!”

“You need help with that, Miss?” A quiet voice asked behind you. You whipped around and saw that the man you noticed before had lowered the picture book and was looking at you curiously and maybe a little amused. You weren´t that short but it was undeniable that you wouldn’t be able to reach your object of desire unless you managed to move the heavy chair. Grinning a bit flustered you stopped pushing the piece of furniture and sheepishly you answered. “If you wouldn´t mind. This chair is really heavy. I don´t know where Lucy put the ladder and without it, these books up there are out of reach.”

The man’s eyes twinkled for a second as his gaze fluttered upwards towards the last row. “Not necessarily” he said with a friendly, tight lipped smile. The next moment you found out why you thought his sitting looked so odd in the plush chair. He bent his knees to get up and they definitely rose above the angle of his hips. You tried not to stare, really, you did, as the man rose, rose and rose higher and higher until a massive body unfolded from the chair, standing, stretching for a second and then slumping in on itself almost comically. His shoulders hunched and head slightly bent downwards he made his way over to you, observing your reaction with a careful glance. You understood why immediately. 6´10. That was your best guess. With a warm feeling in your belly you noticed that he was trying to make himself smaller.

Don’t comment on his height, don’t comment on his height, you thought and tried to school your features. He´s probably heard it all! He seemed to appreciate your silence and little smile.

As he stood next to you, you noticed that your head didn´t even reach shoulder. He was looking at the books at the highest point and you got the chance to observe him a little closer. His hair was a fascinating colour. A rich auburn glow leaning heavily towards red. He had tied it into a low bun at the base of his neck. Little whisps of it escaping and curling against his temple and forehead. Fascinated you saw that his eyebrows and even his long lashes were the same shade. They framed slightly droopy eyes the colour of…Blue? Green? You couldn’t really tell from your angle. His nose was long and slightly curved, accentuating a full upper lip and a strong, stubbled jaw. He had an almost regal look to him. That was if he didn’t stand there slouching.

You hadn’t realized while appreciating his features that he had slightly turned his face towards you. Smiling shily he quirked an eyebrow, seemingly waiting for one of the comments he was definitely used to. When he realized you weren´t going to comment his smile stretched into a boyish grin you just had to reciprocate. Doing that you quickly noticed two more things about him. His canines stood out sharper than you had ever seen on a person, giving him a bit of a wolfish look that for some reason made you heart stutter in your chest. The other thing was a faint white scar reaching from his plump upper lip up to his nostril. You recognised the scar of an early on fixed cleft lip and knew that they tended to pull the lip slightly upward on one side. In his case though, especially when he grinned like that it wasn’t that noticeable. It gave him character.

He cleared his throat a bit awkwardly and snapped you out of your little stupor. Catching his eyes you saw how an adorable dust of pink covered his cheeks and the tips of his ears, making the scattering of freckles around his nose even more enticing. Stop. Staring. At. Him.

He nodded his head towards the books and reached out one of his surprisingly bulgy arms. A long finger tapped the back of a black and grey one. Looking down at you questioningly and not saying a word he quirked an eyebrow. Biting your tongue and smiling mischievously you shook your head. He nodded and studied the books again, his finger gliding over the spines of them. Halting again at a brown, faux leather bound massive copy, he again gave you a quick questioning look. This time however with a playful smirk pulling on the corner of his mouth. Liking his little game more and more you crossed your hands behind your back and began to lean back and forth on your heels, again shaking your head. He hummed and huffed in mock annoyance making you honest to god, giggle. You weren’t the giggling type! What the hell was going on?!

You had already realised that he wasn’t a man of many words so you played along for another two attempts of his until he finally tapped on the spine of your desired book (he damn well knew which one you wanted from the start). You nodded excitedly and he chuckled deep in his throat awakening goosebumps all over your arms as a result. He pulled the book out and slowly handed it to you. You took it in your hands carefully and full of awe, eyes sparkling as you brushed your fingers over the name of your favourite story teller. “Thank you very much” you breathed and gave him a brilliant smile. Again the tips of his ears went bright red but his voice was strong when he said “No worries. Happy to help you.” Only now you noticed the slight accent. Interesting, you thought.

Pressing the book happily to your chest you looked up into his face. “I see you like medieval blacksmithing” you said and pointed to the huge book that he left on one of the tables. He stood a little more erect and nodded his head quickly. “Yes” he said excitedly as you both walked over to the pair of soft chairs. “It´s so fascinating. Hardly believable what they accomplished without modern technology. Beautiful craftsmanship too. Look here”, he opened the book and pointed at the depiction of a beautiful Viking sword. His enthusiasm warmed your body and something in your chest began to pull yourself towards him. Without realising it, you both had sat down next to each other, the huge volume in the middle. Turning page after page, he showed you many more fascinating facts and pictures, all the while talking animatedly.

It seemed like you had to revoke your statement from before. He was a talker. Once he was comfortable.

Time seemed to stand still. From time to time you glanced at him as he spoke softly about different types of iron compositions. Although his height was intimidating, he was far from that. At least here with you. You guessed he was in his late twenties or maybe early thirties. When he showed you a particular picture he moved the book closer, leaning over the arm of the chair closer to you.

He smelled divine. Musky, yet sweet. Earthy and somehow crisp. A serene scene developed behind your eyes. An early spring morning, wet with dew clinging to sweet smelling crocuses. Only the heavy fog wafting over the ground an indication that winter was still holding on. And while you looked at his profile your skin erupted in pleasant chills as you imagined the first clear rays of sunshine breaking through said fog, illuminating the delicate process of nature’s awakening.

It was like his presence and voice opened the floodgates of your own imagination. You felt yourself becoming helplessly attracted to him. The pull in your chest becoming stronger by the minute.

Suddenly you weren’t looking at his profile anymore. He had turned his head, looking into your eyes. Silence spread between you. A comfortable one. Enamoured you tried to figure out the colour of his eyes. Blue, you noticed. With a hint of green. Seafoam. Or maybe not? Jade green with a dusting of light blue. Maybe that was it. You found it impossible to look away. And so did he. His gaze was on you. Your eyes, your nose, your mouth, your eyes again. They looked curious and gentle.

None of you realised how much you had leaned into each other. With your noses almost touching, a blaring alarm suddenly made both of you jump back into your seats, hearts hammering wildly. Almost panicked he fished through the pockets of his jeans until he pulled out his phone.

His eyes went comically wide and in a flurry of powerful limbs he clambered upright. “Oh verdammt, verdammt” (damn)he cursed as he pulled a worn leather jacket over his broad shoulders. Your heart fluttering when you recognized the words. “I´m so sorry. I´m terribly late. I have to go.” You felt your stomach drop in a weird way. Walking towards the front door he gave you an almost pained look full of hesitation. You stood there almost as helpless, not wanting him to leave.

“Wie ist dein Name?” (What´s your name?) you asked a little hesitant. His jaw went slack and he gave you a look of surprise and pure adoration before showing you his lovable canines again in a grin and answered. “Du kannst König zu mir sagen, Maus.” (You can call me König, mouse)

You gave him another beautiful smile, touched your chest and gave him your own name. He rolled it around on his tongue and you were sure he could see the tremor in your hands. Your face felt like it was on fire, your knees weak. With a lift of his hand and a small wave he opened the door to the store and turned around one last time. “Ich hoffe wir sehen uns wieder, ___ -Maus.” (I hope we´ll see each other again, ___- mouse)

True to the little nickname he gave you, you squeaked beyond flustered but nodded your head enthusiastically. His eyes blitzed happily and then he turned and began jogging down the street in a hurry.

Your mind an absolute mess and head swirling you turned towards the counter and swallowed.

One elbow parched onto the wood, her head leaned into her hand, Lucy tapped the acrylic nails of her other hand slowly on the counter giving you the most shit eating grin you had ever seen on her.

“Don´t” you said with a sigh. She blew a disbelieving raspberry and started laughing. “Are you kidding me?! Of course I will!! What in the shit was that!? Since when do you speak German and who´s horse was that?!?!?! My sweet child, you two were so into each other you didn’t even notice me over here!” Her wide brown eyes stared you down while you tried to hide your flustered expression.

Walking over to her you leaned over the counter and lay your head on it. Lucy still tried to control her giggles. “I don´t know, okey? He was just…he got my book off the shelve and then…medieval blacksmithing…Grin...EYES!” you groaned out almost exasperatedly.

“Oh deary, I noticed. You were back there for almost two hours. I thought for a moment you ditched me without paying.” You stood up straight again and gave her an unamused look. “You know I´d never do that.” Lucy nodded good naturedly. “Of course I do but seriously, how is it you speak German?”

“I don’t speak that much, honestly. Most of it is self-taught. I just…like it” you shrugged. “Well, HE obviously did too” Lucy winked, her impossibly white teeth shining. You groaned again but couldn’t hide the massive grin.

“You need to come into the shop every day now in case he comes back” your friend said while pouring you a cup of coffee.

With a huff your heart sank again. “I can´t,” you said in a small voice. “I don´t have any more vacation days this year and they really need me on base.”

Lucy tutted and looked a bit miffed. “You know, one would think that a military base would have more than one chief mechanic for their helis and shit.” You snorted at her offended tone and your heart grew several sizes for your friend.

“Tell you what” she said in a determined voice. “Next time he comes in, I´ll give him your number. NO buts!” she held her finger in your face and swirled it, crunching up her adorable button nose. “It´s not like he´s easy to overlook.”

You grinned and nodded your head in defeat. It wasn’t like you didn’t want him to have your number. Of course you did. But with all your duties on base, you didn’t know if you would have the chance to give it to him personally. So you just hoped that the man named König would somehow stumble into your life again. As adorably as he did this afternoon.

_________________________________________________________

Weeeeeeell? What do we think? Part 2? I do have an idea for a mini series so let me know if you woul´d like to read that ;) There will be smut if you like. Let me know if you´d like to be tagged and check out my account for more spicy and fluffy stories.

Thank you very much for reading <3 If you´d like please interact with this post. Comments, liks and reblogs always make my day. Your opinion matters greatly. Only with feedback can I improve :) I´d also like to thank TikTok for feeding me König content so religiously that I had no other chance than to write this

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