#I’ll handle your wood

[freedomfireflies]

Pillow Talk*

Summary: The one where you and Harry both have insomnia, and decide to spend one very strange night together.

Word Count: 7.2k

Content Warning: 18+, smut, daddy kink, mentions of drugs, angst (w/ happy ending!), not suitable for Ramadan!

“Oh, absolutely not.”

“Come on. Just one time.”

“No. Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“Probably. I haven’t slept in 32 hours.”

You huff as you hide yourself behind your door. You don’t even want to see him. Because you don’t want to have this conversation or entertain this idiotic idea. This is what Harry does. He plays games. He tricks and he ruins and if you open this door, you know you’ll regret it. 

“Poppy, please,” he calls, and you hear his forehead land on the wood as though to brace himself. “I’ve tried everything else, okay? It always works with you. I just…I wanted to try. See if it still does.”

You frown. “You realize how wildly inappropriate this is, right? Asking if you can come in just so we can sleep together?”

“Yeah, but that’s all I want to do. Sleep,” he insists again. “Really. I’ll keep my hands to myself and I won’t even talk to you.”

You consider this. Truthfully, you haven’t slept all that well since the breakup, either. And sure, you’ve longed for the nights when the two of you would fall into such an easy, simple, and incredibly effective routine. 

But he broke your heart. And now you’re both paying the price.

“Just one night,” he pleads again. “And if it doesn’t work, I swear I won’t bother you ever again.”

There’s a subtle ache in your chest. Just hearing his voice reminds you of the pain. Of the joy. Of every good moment and every bad one, all wrapped up in the same silky cadence.

You take a deep breath. Perhaps you’re curious, too. Even if you don’t want to be. Because maybe this will work. Maybe you’ll finally be able to rest and get on with your life.

Or maybe it won’t.

But at least if it doesn’t, maybe you can find some closure.

So, with that thought…you open the door. 

He looks worse than you’ve ever seen him. Which makes you just a touch happy if you’re being honest with yourself. His usual curls are askew and unkept. The bags under his eyes are dark and his clothes are wildly wrinkled.

And you’re surprised. He’s been up for longer than 32 hours before and handled it much better. You wonder if his age is catching up with him or if there’s something else keeping him awake.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

But you don’t fight with him. He’s not here to fight and you accept his terms as you widen the door and allow him to step inside.

He nods gratefully as he slips into your living room, but his eyes linger on your face. Almost like he doesn’t recognize you, and it makes your insides turn as you shut the door and put a few feet between you.

“What?” you huff.

He shakes his head. “I don’t know, you look…different.”

“Okay…?”

“You changed your hair.”

“Yeah.”

“Hm. It’s nice.”

You cross your arms. “Thanks.”

“Sure.”

Another pause, and the silence feels heavy.

“Well…do you wanna…?” you eventually say, and he nods.

“Right, yeah.”

“Okay.”

You turn to lead him to your room and it’s…unsettling how normal it feels. Like an old habit rearing its ugly head once again.

When you get there, his surprise returns. “You changed your room, too.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. Why?”

Your eyes roll as you angrily toss your blankets back. “This is the one room I associated with you the most. And short of moving, I needed something you hadn’t touched or tainted. So I made the room mine again.”

He thinks about this, attention lingering on the new paint on the walls and the new furniture in each corner. “I like it.”

“I don’t care.”

He smiles. “I know.”

“Great. Can you get in the bed please so we can get this over with?”

Obliging, he slips off his shoes and joins you under the duvet. “Never thought I’d hear you say that again.”

“Never thought I’d have to say it.”

“Mm. You changed your mattress.”

“Obviously.”

“And the sheets and blankets, too.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Is there anything in here you didn’t change?”

“The carpet. But only because my landlord said I couldn’t.”

“Right.” He’s smiling again. “But you did get a rug.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s nice.”

“Bite me.”

He laughs now and you want to smack him. “I see you still get grumpy when you’re tired.”

“No, I get grumpy when my asshole of an ex shows up to my apartment at 3 in the morning demanding to be let in so he can sleep in my bed with me like a fucking child,” you argue. And you know you’re being snippy and maybe even rude, but he deserves it. After everything he’s put you through, you deserve to be in charge of your own emotions. 

You turn the lamp off and the dark room grows incredibly quiet. You’re both stiff, unable to relax when you’re this close. You don’t want to touch—not the way you used to. And you don’t want to be close or let your guard down, although you suppose you’ll have to in order to sleep.

And then he says, “I really did try, you know. To find another way to sleep.”

You look up at the ceiling and release a soft exhale. “Okay.”

“Melatonin, light therapy, cut out coffee. Even drank those…sleep mocktail things everyone talks about.” He shifts. “I don’t know, I guess my brain just wouldn’t turn off.”

“Yeah. I know.”

More quiet.

“I haven’t done any since we broke up,” he finally says. Gentle, like he’s afraid to break the silence. 

Your lashes flutter. He doesn’t have to say it for you to know what he means. “Great.”

“Yeah.” Another beat. “I thought it was work, I guess. Maybe the stress or something. I’ve been sleeping fine, but these past couple weeks…”

“Right.”

“And I just figured—”

“No, I got it. It’s fine, let’s just…let’s just try to sleep,” you say and he nods.

The bedroom settles and you try, you really do. But you can’t when he’s breathing so goddamn loud and shifting every two seconds and sighing like he’s in pain.

“What?” you eventually hiss.

“Are you dating someone?” he asks.

“What?”

“Are you dating someone?” he repeats. “Josie said you were.”

You hesitate. “I don’t know. Kind of. I guess.”

“You guess?”

“We’re…we’ve been on a few dates. It’s not official.”

“He hasn’t asked you to be his girlfriend?”

“Why does it matter?”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t. I just figure you deserve someone that actually wants to date you.”

“Oh, do I?” You roll your head to look at him. “Funny, you didn’t seem to think so when you were dating me.”

“All right, touché,” he mumbles. “I could have been better, I know that. And I know I took advantage. You did a lot for me and I didn’t…I didn’t care.”

Surprised, you twist your fingers together. “Uh…yeah. Right. Thank you.”

His head rolls, too. And even with the dim-light, his eyes find yours. “I’m sorry, Poppy. You really did deserve better than me. And if you found it with this guy…I’ll be happy for you.”

You swallow before sighing to yourself. “I mean, I don’t know if I did. He’s…he’s really nice. But he’s so…he’s just…”

“Vanilla?”

Your eyes widen. “Yeah. How did you—”

“He was wearing Crocs with tube socks.”

You laugh—loud. “Oh my god, how did you know?”

“I might have looked him up,” he admits through a grin. “Wanted to make sure he was worth your time.”

“Yeah? And?”

“And he wears Crocs with tube socks. He can’t make you cum.”

Your features scrunch together as you gasp and look away. “Ew, Harry. It’s not about that—”

“It’s always about that. Come on, am I wrong?”

“You—yes. What he wears has nothing to do with what he’s like in bed—”

“So he’s not vanilla?”

“He’s…” You pause. “He…look, he really tries—”

“So, he is,” Harry finishes for you. “Well, at least you got some.”

“I…yeah. Uh-huh.”

Instantly, he turns onto his side, head resting in the palm of his hand as he studies you. “He couldn’t get it up, could he?”

“Harry,” you groan, and reach out to swat him. “Stop, it wasn’t that. We just…we were taking things slow. We did some stuff. Just not…all of it.”

“So what he’d do?”

“Harry—”

“Come on, we’re adults, just tell me.”

“Ew, no—”

“Listen, you used to get fucked good. I’m just trying to help you get back to that.”

You frown but do oblige. “I don’t know. He ate me out and I blew him. That’s it.”

“And…?”

“And…I don’t know. He was fine. He was good.”

“Sure.”

Your eyes roll. “Okay, he…he wasn’t really all that into it. He stopped after a few seconds and asked if I came. Then he said his jaw was tired and that maybe we should just switch.”

Now, Harry’s features scrunch, too. “Shit. What a fucking pussy. Ironically.”

“I guess. It could have been worse.”

“Really? Eating you out was always my favorite. What kind of asshole just stops if he doesn’t have to?”

You feel a rush of heat through your body as you look away. “I guess they can’t all be you.”

“Damn fucking right,” he scoffs. “Seriously, you still wanted to see him after that?”

“He’s cute,” you argue. “And nice. And yeah, maybe he’s not that adventurous but that’s okay. I don’t need wild sex all the time.”

He’s quiet. “How about just one time?”

You turn back. “What?”

“I—okay, I was just thinking…you know, one of the things we would do when we couldn’t sleep was…fuck, so—”

“Oh, absolutely not.” You sit up, as though to put some distance between you. “No. Forget it—”

“Poppy—”

“Don’t call me that,” you huff. “You don’t get to call me that ever again. Okay, I’m not gonna fuck you just so we can sleep—”

“It wouldn’t be just for that,” he argues, sitting up as well. “It would also help your mood, too—”

“Oh, my mood?” You glare at him. “My mood is just fine, actually. In fact, I’d say it’s pretty good if I agreed to let you in my apartment in the first place—”

“You didn’t have to. I’m just saying, if sex with him is gonna be bland, might as well get in one last good fuck before you commit to a lifetime of boring—”

“Oh, my god. It’s not a lifetime and you’re a fucking asshole—”

“Yeah. We’ve established that. Doesn’t change the fact that you need it.”

You stare at him. “Is that why you’re really here? To trick me into sleeping with you?”

He leans back. “What? No. I don’t trick people into having sex, it was just a suggestion—”

“Yeah, a pretty dumb one. Did you honestly think I’d say yes?”

“Yeah,” he admits haughtily. “Yeah, because we didn’t break up over the sex. We broke up because you’re an uptight—”

“What? Say it,” you sneer. “Say it. I’m an uptight bitch because I wouldn’t let you do cocaine.”

He scoffs again and looks off into the dark of your room. The argument lulls. “I could never do anything right.”

“That wasn’t the problem and you know it.” You pull your legs to your chest. “I wanted to move forward and you kept going back. You’re almost 30 and you still act like you’re 19.”

“Maybe I didn’t want to get married and do the whole white picket fence life,” he says. “Maybe I liked things the way they were—”

“No. No, you liked parties with your friends and doing drugs that kept you up for hours  and getting fired and leaving me to pay all the bills—”

“You didn’t pay all the bills and I told you I would do what I could to help—”

“Yeah. But apparently that included getting fucked up and staying out all night just to crash the next day.” You study him closely. “You were never around anymore. I never saw you. We were on two different paths and the only time we ever talked was when you asked if I wanted to fuck.”

“So, that’s it, huh? I’m just a villain in your story. You were this perfect fucking princess, and I was a monster that ruined your life?”

“No, obviously not. I wasn’t perfect. I know that.”

“Do you?” His eyes flick between yours. “You didn’t want me to move forward with you. You liked your new job and your new friends because they didn’t remind you of me. Of who we both used to be.”

“So? I’m not proud of what I used to do. And sure, maybe I wanted to make a better impression on the people paying my salary and keeping me employed. Is that such a fucking crime?”

“No. But you didn’t want me to be a part of that impression and you know it.”

“Right. Because you were shit-faced all the time.”

He opens his mouth, ready to retort. But then he closes it. He closes it and he stares at you and then…he surges forward.

Even if you were given at least two seconds to prepare, you’re not prepared for the way his hands feel on your cheeks as he kisses you. As he presses his lips to yours and steals the labored breaths in your lungs.

But you don’t fight him. You know you should. Know you should push him off and berate him. Yet you let him kiss you. And you kiss him back. And it’s far too easy to slip back into this routine as his tongue slides against yours in such a teasing way.

Your stomach flips while your hands land on his lap. You’re desperate to be closer, to feel his body against yours. His skin, and the way it melts beneath your palms like butter. You dance this devious dance and before you know it, you’re stripping each other of the few clothes you have.

He starts with your shirt. Ripping it over your head before his mouth lands on your chest. Bare and beautiful to him. His kisses are wet and sloppy and you arch yourself closer as you drag your fingers down his scalp.

The only reason he stops is to let you peel his t-shirt off, too. And then his jeans and socks. And you move so fluidly, you’re nearly naked in under a minute. The only thing left between you now his underwear and yours.

He lays you down, gentle. Surprisingly gentle, given the anger that brought you here. And he gazes at you in a soft, unspoken way that says everything you don’t exactly know how to say. 

His fingers brush down your cheek as his body settles atop yours. He still fits between your legs like he was always meant to and the weight of him almost feels good.

“Are you all right?” he finally whispers, and he doesn’t sound like the same man from before. He sounds like the man you fell in love with. “Is this okay?”

You nod quickly, scared that if you think about it, you’ll ruin it. “Yeah. Go.”

He doesn’t. “We don’t have to,” he says. “You were right, it’s probably a dumb idea—”

“Yeah, but…it always works.” You shift beneath him and reach for his briefs, rolling them down his hips. “And I’m tired. Tired of fighting with you, tired of not getting any sleep…tired of pretending I hate you. You were right, our sex is good. So let’s do it. And then we can sleep. And we can finally move on.”

Not the most romantic of speeches, but it works. At least right now. He kisses you again and drags your underwear aside in order to tease you with the tip of his cock.

He feels like you remember. And maybe you find just a touch of comfort in that. There are no awkward pauses or confusion about what to do next. You don’t have to find your rhythm or anticipate the next step. You know him. And he knows you.

Your rub your clit in order to stimulate yourself. You aren’t exactly wet enough for this to be enjoyable, but you don’t expect him to do what he did before. The foreplay is up to you now and you’re more than all right with that.

However, he’s not. And he instantly swats your hand away in order to do it himself. Allowing his fingers to drag up and down your pussy until you shiver before he slips the tip of his middle finger inside.

“Shit,” he whispers. His forehead drops to yours. “Fucking missed this.”

You bite the inside of your lip to keep from grinning. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He starts to pump, bending your body to his salacious intentions until the unmistakable sound of wetness echoes throughout the room. “I know you missed it, too.”

“Hm. Don’t push it.”

“Why not?” He presses a kiss to your cheek. Then to your jaw. Your lips. Your nose. Your neck. Everywhere you used to love. “Are you really gonna tell me you didn’t?” 

“Maybe.”

“So Crocs with Tube Socks is better, huh?”

“…not exactly.”

“Right.” He adds a second finger and your eyes roll back. “Don’t worry, Poppy, I’ll fix it.”

“Don’t…call me that,” you pant again, and he chuckles.

“Don’t know what else to call you. You were always my pretty Poppy.”

“But now I’m not,” you say. “Now you call me nothing. Because I’m not yours to call.”

He sighs but does seem to obey, at least for now. And the faster he thrusts his hand, the needier this growing feeling becomes. Stronger and louder until you finally grab onto his shoulders and say, “Just put it in already.”

He smirks. “How romantic.”

“It’s not supposed to be. Just come on.”

So, he does. He takes hold of his cock and he slips it through the gathering arousal until he can push in. And you both reel.

Truthfully, you’ve missed the sounds he makes when he’s turned on. The way he groans and grits his teeth together. The way the muscles in his arms strain until you can see those beautiful veins you used to love to run your tongue over. 

He’s stunning. Even now, in the soft light of the moon through your curtains. His silhouette is unholy as it hovers above you. Strong hips beginning to thrust as you both work in tandem to find release.

And it’s closer than you expected. There’s something about him that can get you there even without much effort. Something Crocs with Tube Socks could never seem to figure out. 

Because he’s not Harry. And only Harry can play you like an instrument and make such symphonic music all with the flick of his finger and a thrust of his cock.

He kisses you again and you both feel anxious. Soft murmurings of praise and, “Keep going,” that have you arching from the bed and moaning into his mouth.

You’re sweating and gasping for air and clutching onto his back as you attempt to meet his rhythm with rolls of your own. You need this. You need to cum so you can find release and you need to cum so you can finally sleep and you need to cum because then you’ll finally be able to let him go. To close the door on the chapter of you and Harry and move the fuck on.

But how can you move on when you’re still under him? How can you insist that you’re fine and doing great if you’re so easily convinced to fuck him just so you can both get some sleep?

There are other remedies to insomnia that don’t involve his cock and maybe you should have tried that before you let him into your apartment. 

Either way, you’re coming before you can think twice about it. Raking your nails down his back and whimpering his name as he pulls out and finishes on your thigh. 

And just like that…

It’s over.

You find him in the kitchen about an hour later. You managed to sleep at least a few minutes before you felt the sadistic hand of insomnia pull you back out. But when you woke, Harry was gone. His clothes were still on the floor, so you knew he hadn’t left. But he wasn’t with you.

He’s staring out your kitchen window when you slip into the living room. You’re not sure if he hears you or not but if he does, he doesn’t acknowledge it. Instead, he keeps himself braced against the sink, clad in nothing more than his briefs.

Curious, you call, “What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head. Silent. Contemplative. “I used to love this window,” he eventually says. Soft, like he’s reminiscing. “The way the light looked in the morning. The way your little crystals would put rainbows on the wall and you’d get so excited. How you’d make me dance with you to some Elton John song while we were literally in the middle of cooking.”

You blink. “Um…okay.”

He turns and his eyes find yours. “I fucking loved this apartment. And this kitchen. And that couch. And your room. And even the hallway. I loved being here, all the time. I hated going back to my place because it never felt the same.”

The silence grows louder now as you look down at your feet and pull your robe just a bit tighter. “I know,” you finally whisper. “That’s why I changed it.”

“I know,” he whispers back. His expression falls. “You changed everything. This apartment, your life…us.”

“Because I had to,” you argue, glancing back up. “I had to, Harry. I couldn’t keep going in circles. I couldn’t drag you along behind me into the future when you clearly wanted to be anywhere else.” 

“Because the future you always painted didn’t seem to have room for me,” he huffs. “Okay, with all these dinner parties and fancy houses and good school districts. You’d planned out the next 30 years and I didn’t see myself anywhere in your picture.”

“I didn’t fucking care about the parties or the school districts,” you nearly yell. “God, I—I didn’t want the white picket fence life. I didn’t want the 1950’s American Dream shit you keep thinking I did. I just wanted you. Yes, I wanted a good job with insurance and stability. But I wasn’t gonna trade what we had just for that—”

“But you did. You didn’t tell your parents we’d moved in together. You didn’t even tell half of our friends. You went on trips without me and you stopped telling me about your day and we never talked—”

“Because you were never around! You were either out with your friends getting drunk or high or you were in there playing video games because you’d had a ‘hard day.’ So, no. I didn’t want to talk to you when I knew you weren’t even listening in the first place.”

 He leans against the counter and crosses his arms. Angry. Indignant. “You resented me. You resented the fact that we were together and you resented that I wasn’t perfect like your precious new friends—”

“Oh, that’s—” You pinch the bridge of your nose and force in a deep breath. “No. I didn’t want you to be like them. I didn’t want you to act pretentious and stuffy and talk about the stock market every goddamn second of the day. The only thing I resented…was the fact that you wouldn’t take care of yourself.”

“I was taking care of myself—”

“Bullshit. You were doing drugs—you were doing cocaine—and you weren’t eating, you weren’t sleeping, you nearly drunk yourself to death—”

“Right, but I wasn’t doing it all the time. It was just…it was occasionally, and it wasn’t a lot—”

“I don’t care. You shouldn’t have been doing it at all, Harry,” you finally shout. “You…you scared the shit out of me. Every time one of your friends would call and say you were passed out, I thought…I thought this was it. I thought I was gonna lose you. Do you know how many times I just sat on the floor and cried because I was so scared? Because you never wanted to listen when I told you to stop? Because you were so sure you were invincible?”

He seems pained by this, features wilting as he takes a tentative step forward. But he stops when you move back. “Poppy, I wasn’t trying to scare you, I…I didn’t know—”

“Yes, you did,” you scoff. “I told you, over and over that I didn’t want to lose you, but you thought I was being dramatic.”

He nods once. “I know, I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?”

“Yeah. I am.” He looks at you. “S’why I stopped after we broke up. You were right, I needed to get my shit together.”

You nod, too. “Good. I’m glad.”

His gaze dances around the kitchen. “I hate that you changed everything,” he says again, and your heart wrenches. “I hate that it doesn’t look like it used to. I hate that I hurt you so bad that you felt like you had to erase everything I ever touched.”

You step closer and wipe a tear from your cheek. “Yeah, I hate it, too. I hate that I had to. I hate that stupid mattress and I hate that my kitchen doesn’t look like a rainbow anymore and I really fucking hate that I have no one to dance with when I cook.”

His eyes soften as they find yours and in only a few seconds, he’s reaching for the belt on your robe and tugging you to him. Wrapping you in his arms as he presses you against his chest, the way he always used to when you were sad.

“No,” you argue weakly, although you do nothing to stop him. “No, you can’t…you can’t—”

“Yes, I can,” he retorts quietly. You feel his lips press to the top of your head. “You don’t get to cry over me anymore. You’re better than that now. You did what I couldn’t. You moved on. And I don’t get to ruin that for you.”

You sniffle as you run your hand down his stomach. “It wasn’t about moving on. I just needed to learn how to be strong enough for both of us.”

“Poppy,” he breathes and holds you tighter. “You shouldn’t have to be.”

And deep down…you know he’s right.

“Shit, just like that…a little closer. Good girl, hold yourself open for me, baby. Yeah.”

Doing your best to oblige, you slip your fingers between your folds as Harry nudges his nose closer. Kissing his way along your thighs before allowing his tongue to lick a very generous stripe up your pussy.

Round 2 is on the couch. Harry wanted the kitchen counter—nearly insisted on it, in fact—but you knew you didn’t want to ruin your favorite breakfast spot. And you weren’t about to just for him.

So, the couch it was. He complained about it as you got settled. He hates this new couch, too. The color, the lumpy cushions, the way it feels like you’re sinking when you sit. 

You told him you didn’t care. You loved it and if it annoyed him, that was a bonus.

Thankfully, he swallowed his complaints in favor of swallowing you. He tossed your robe open and pulled your thighs apart. And then he buried himself between the warmth of your pussy the way he always used to.

And you decided that maybe you don’t mind insomnia so much if this is the remedy.

“Missed this, too,” he says now as he nips at your clit. “God, you’ve always tasted so fucking good. S’fucking crazy, baby. Can’t ever get enough.”

“Sure,” you snort, head dropping back. “I’m sure you say that to all the girls—”

“No.” He shakes his head and his nose nudges the sensitive nerves as you whine. “No, there’s no other girls. Come on, did you really think there could be?”

“With a mouth like that? Yeah,” you admit. He laughs. “That’s how we met. You were such—fuck—such a player.”

“Maybe,” he concedes before mouthing at you again. “But nobody else has ever made me feel the way you do.”

You snort. “Where’d you learn that line?”

“It’s not a line. It’s the truth.”

“Harry. Come on. I know you.”

“Then you should know I don’t say shit I don’t mean.” He smooths his palms down your thighs in order to spread you just a bit further and see the way your hole flutters. “Oh, pretty girl. S’just drenched, hm? All sensitive from the last one…need Daddy to make it better?”

You scrunch your nose. “You don’t get to call yourself that anymore.”

“No?” He grins. “Why not?”

“Because I hate you and Daddy is reserved for someone I like.”

He tsks. “I don’t know, kind of seems like you still like it. Keep clenching around my tongue like you wanna hear me say it again.”

You hesitate as you weave your fingers through his curls. “Never.”

He hums and the vibration against your cunt makes your thighs twitch. “Come on, baby. Don’t be mean to Daddy.”

You want to glare. Slap at him, refuse him. But he’s right—you have missed the moniker. If only just because of how good he sounds when he says it. So, you let him tease you and taunt you as he tastes you. You let him do whatever the hell he wants because your second orgasm feels stronger than the first and you don’t imagine you’ll survive this one. 

He slips a finger in as well. Beckons your pleasure closer with every curl of the large digit. It’s practiced. He sucks and licks and nips and thrusts and curls and pumps all at the same time.

Then, he pulls back and brings his palm down in a sharp smack to your pussy. 

“Stop squirming,” he instructs, then shoots you an obviously pleased frown. “Don’t be a brat.”

“M’not,” you whimper. “Not a brat…just wanna cum.”

“Do you, hm?” He licks you again then adds two fingers. “Should I let you?”

“Obviously.”

“Obviously?” He’s smirking now as he starts to go faster. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe you do deserve it. Yeah? After being so nice as to let me in.”

You pout. “Mhm.”

He’s so happy. He’s always his happiest when he’s suffocating himself with your pussy. He does everything he knows you love. He leaves teasing kisses to the inside of your thighs. He slaps at your leg, your clit, your hip. He helps rock you against his tongue and even lifts you from the couch to find a deeper angle. 

And he does all of this out of sheer enjoyment. 

“Harry,” you whimper as you melt into the cushions. Your limbs feel like jello. The pleasure is everywhere, and he looks like a god. His face is covered in you, glistening about as bright as the stars.

“I know, Poppy,” he says. He kisses your pussy and then smiles at you. “I know.”

You like the way Harry’s chest feels. Warm and soft and painted in the tattoos you used to trace with your finger.

He’s gently scratching your back as you both lay in bed. The room is quiet—you haven’t spoken in minutes. Still, neither of you can seem to find sleep and you know you’ll desperately need it soon. 

But this is nice. Even if it is the last time. You like getting to reminisce—pretend for even a moment that things are the way they used to be. When you were happy and safe and content to be together.

You weren’t sure you’d ever feel this kind of peace again.

“I missed you, too, you know,” he whispers after a moment.

You glance up. 

“I didn’t just miss your apartment. I missed you.” He takes a breath and runs his palm along your spine. “I miss our Sunday mornings and I miss when we’d watch scary movies just so we could make out and I miss the way you used to dance around in your underwear to some stupid musical you were obsessed with.”

You swallow a lump in your throat. “Har…”

“And I don’t know what happened,” he says. “I felt like…I felt like I was watching you do all these amazing things and I just couldn’t keep up. You were getting promoted and moving up and I was still at the fucking bar serving drinks. And you knew what you wanted to do. I didn’t.”

“I didn’t know,” you argue gently. “Not really. I hate my job. I hate that I don’t enjoy it the way I used to. I mean, I like that it pays the bills, but maybe that shouldn’t be enough.”

He presses his cheek to the top of your head. “You should do what makes you happy.”

“You used to make me happy.”

The soft strokes against your spine slow. 

“You did, Har,” you tell him. “So happy. That’s why I hated that we started fighting all of the time. I hated that you were gone or that I was gone or the fact that I was too ashamed to tell you that I missed you. And that I was scared we were losing each other.”

“Maybe we needed to lose each other,” he says and you feel sick. “Maybe we needed to be apart to see what we really wanted.”

You think about this. The idea sounds nice. Inviting. A happy end to a rather dreadful story.

But you both know better. Five months has taught you better.

“There’s a reason we broke up,” you finally murmur. “We didn’t…we didn’t like each other anymore. We were holding each other back—”

“I liked you,” he says softly. “I loved you. Yeah, I was mad, but I didn’t just stop loving you.” 

“Maybe you should have. Maybe it would have been easier for us and we wouldn’t be…here.”

More silence. It stretches for what feels like hours.

And then, “I can’t sleep because of you.”

You suck in a quiet breath. “What?”

“When Josie told me that you were seeing someone, I couldn’t…I couldn’t stop thinking about it. And she showed me a picture she took of you guys and you were so happy. Smiling at him like you used to smile at me and I just…I didn’t know what to do.”

Another pause. You don’t know what to say.

“I put my fist through a wall,” he tells you. “And somehow, that still didn’t hurt as much as knowing you’d moved on.”

You snake your arm around his middle and snuggle closer. “Harry, you knew we both had to move on eventually.”

“Did we?”

“Harry…”

“But so soon? It’s only been five months.”

“Yeah. Five months to grieve you and cry over you and realize I did this for you.” You close your eyes. Tight. “We’re better people now.”

“No, we’re tired people now,” he teases, and you smile. “And I think I’ll be losing sleep over you for the rest of my life.”

“Don’t say that.”

“I mean it. I’m always gonna think about you. Think about what I did wrong. What I could have done better.”

“I fucked up, too,” you argue. “I should have told my parents. And our friends. I should have talked to you more, asked you to do more things together. You’re right, I was ashamed of you. Of this…routine we’d fallen into. And I’m sorry.”

He says nothing. After all, there’s nothing more to say.

But he kisses the crown of your head and it speaks louder than any words.

“Fuck…fuck, Poppy, please—”

You grin as you lick your lips. He’s always sounded the most beautiful when he’s begging. And his best begging always tends to happen when his cock is down your throat. 

“What, Daddy?” you ask innocently. “What do you need me to do?”

His eyes roll back and he grips the sheets in his fist. “Please…”

You reposition yourself over his legs as you dip back down to have another taste. You lick and you suck and you stroke until he’s making another strained noise that sounds like sex.

You hope your neighbors can hear. You bet they missed him.

“Good boy,” you purr, squeezing his thighs as you take him even further. 

He sucks in a sharp breath through gritted teeth before his hand finds your hair and he squeezes. “Easy…easy, baby. S’been a while. Don’t hurt yourself—”

You respond to his instruction by inhaling through your nose and relaxing the muscles in your throat. Allowing him to hit the back the way he always used to.

His head drops into the pillows. “Shit—Poppy, I mean it. M’not gonna fuck your throat. It’s gonna hurt and I don’t wanna hurt you anymore.”

It’s an oddly thoughtful gesture but it does nothing for you now. Instead, you shake your head and pull off, a string of saliva dripping down his cock in your wake. “I’m fine, H. Trust me, I can take it.”

“Yeah?” He pushes up onto his elbows. “Is Crocs with Tube Socks hung or something?”

You grin. “No. But that dildo you got me last year is.”

He blinks. “You…fucking hell, you fuck your throat with that?”

“Mhm.” You swirl your tongue around his tip as he curses. “And then I fuck myself. And I pretend it’s you.”

He tightens his hold on your hair and forces your eyes back to his. “Are you serious?”

You nod, now feeling a touch shy as you wipe your mouth with your knuckles. “Yeah…I know that’s…probably weird, but…I mean, you got it for me, so I thought I’d be weirder to think about someone else—”

“No, it’s…” He stops. Struggles. “Shit, I really needed to hear that.”

“Oh, you did, huh?” 

“Yeah. I wouldn’t want you to think about anyone else when you used it, either. It’s got my fucking initials on it.”

You laugh, louder than you mean to and it makes him grin. “Yeah, it does, doesn’t it? It was a pretty good gift, I’ll admit.”

“S’a fucking perfect gift,” he retorts. “We had a lot of fun with that dildo.”

“We did indeed.”

“But apparently not as much fun as you’re having with it.”

“Fucking myself helps me sleep,” you remind him. “So sometimes it’s necessity.”

“Is that right?” 

“Mhm.” You squeeze the base and he twitches. “You used to watch me. Remember?”

“I do.” His eyes get darker. “Do you fuck yourself a lot?”

“…these days, yeah. Apparently, I can’t sleep all that well, either.”

“And does it work?”

“Most of the time, yeah.” You turn your attention back to his cock in order to avoid his curiosity before you quietly admit, “Sometimes I pretend you’re here. Sleeping next to me. And…that helps, too.”

He reaches for your wrist and pulls your attention back. “Poppy—”

“No, don’t look at me like that, it’s dumb—”

“I imagine you, too.”

You blink. “You do?”

“Every night. Except the past couple weeks. Cause now I just think about you and him. And then I can’t fucking sleep.”

You turn your hand so your fingers brush through his. “Shit. We’re a mess.”

He smiles. “Yeah.”

The conversation falls away as you dip back down to resume your work. Squeezing his balls, moaning as you take him on your tongue, and milking him for every last drop. 

Turns out, you missed the taste of him, too.

Morning comes before either of you find a moment of rest. But you can feel yourself growing tired. Your eyelids are beginning to droop, and your body feels incredibly spent. 

Turns out, round 4 is where the magic happened. He brought out your favorite vibrator and teased your poor, swollen clit with it until you squirted. It was easy and quick and he seemed rather delighted to be bathed in you.

Until, of course, you insist on an actual bath to clean you both.

The shower felt good. The warm water washing away the sticky sweat on your skin. And the two of you fell back into a similar routine. He ran the soap down your arms and you washed his curls with your favorite shampoo. A shampoo he claimed he looked everywhere for after you broke up but could never find.

He said he missed the smell. The way it made his hair so soft. And the way it would make his pillowcase smell just like you.

You were grateful that the shower hid your tears.

You both crashed on the couch after you had dried off. The sheets still needed to be cleaned and neither of you could be bothered. But, as it turned out, the couch was growing on him. And he begrudgingly admitted it was rather comfy as the two of you curled up in your usual spot. 

You know you’re both close to sleep. Finally, after all your efforts to get here. But you also know that once you wake up, Harry will leave. 

And there’s a chance you won’t see him again.

You know that nothing has changed. The two of you still want different things, even if you want each other. And you hate that that’s not enough. That what you want and what you should want don’t align.

Instead, he’ll move on with his life and you’ll move on with yours.

But you don’t want to learn how to fall asleep without him.

“Make me a deal,” you whisper.

He hums. Lashes shut tight as the morning light slips in through the window. “What?”

“If I wake up, and you’re still here…we do this again. Not…as a couple. But as two broken humans that find rest with each other.”

His eyes open.

“But if you’re gone,” you continue, “then we don’t. We don’t do it again, we don’t see each other again, we don’t reach out again. We cut ties. Officially. Block and move on. For real.”

He seems saddened by this, and you hate that you’ve made him sad. But you both know it’s for the best. This won’t be sustainable in the long run. And maybe it’s a bad idea to continue at all, but maybe you want to hold on to him anyway. At least for a little while.

Even if it’s just as friends.

Exes.

Two broken humans that used to make each other whole.

His lips press together and he nods once. “Deal,” he agrees, and you can tell by the look on his face, he’s already made a decision.

You aren’t sure which way, but you suppose you’ll find out soon enough. So, you allow your eyes to fall shut and your dreams to take hold. Melting into his arms and into the sofa as you finally find sleep quicker than you have in months.

You’re not sure how long you’re out. It feels like hours. A heavy slumber that leaves you rather refreshed as your eyes eventually flutter open. 

You don’t see Harry as you slowly adjust to your surroundings. And you don’t feel him, either. But you’re too afraid to really look. To sit up and realize that he’s gone. For good.

And then, just when you think you’ve lost him…you hear the most beautiful sound in the world.

“Good morning, Poppy.”

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282 @lukesaprince @closureesny @lc-fics @0nlythrowharrybeaux @hannahdressedasabanana @iguessyourejustwhatineeded @dylanobandposts21 @butdaddyilovehim-hs @floral-recs @itjustkindahappenedreally @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @laelamarley @myalovesharry

#harry #harry styles #harry edward styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles x you #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan #harry styles smut #harry styles request #harry styles concept #smut #concept #soft dom!harry #nsfr #ex!harry #exes to lovers #harry and poppy #angst

[gay-dorito-dust]

Okay, so hear me out, with that sweet reader I would love to see her finding out Mizu is a female. But she doesn’t react and doesn’t change how she treats Mizu. When it is talked about after some time she just says, “it doesn’t change that your Mizu. And I am here for you.”

Mizu was washing the grime off of their skin and cleansing their more serious wounds carefully and diligently in prevention of any and all possible infection within the waters of a nearby lake before reaching for the needle and thread.

Meanwhile you were trudging along the small pathway through the woods towards the lake whilst carrying some freshly cleaned and sewn up change of clothes for Mizu, a temporary substitute for them to wear whilst you were had at work with repairing their old clothing; after having learnt rather quickly that they were particular towards their own style of clothing, after trying to show Mizu the variety of clothing made available in the most recent town you visited.

Nothing there seemed to make all that much of a difference to Mizu and soon or later you dropped the topic of clothes all together, and quickly returning to search for the reason why you were in town in the first place. The rest of the town visit was nothing more then a blur of blood and steel, all you remembered of the outcome was Mizu being hurt and their clothes were ripped and torn in a multitude of ways, stained with drying blood.

So when you finally made it to the cleaning that gave way to the lake presented before you and were about to voice your presence to Mizu, your eyes looked up from the clothes in your arms to a sight that easily took away your breath;

There Mizu was sitting at the edge of the lake, their bare body dripping wet, as raven black hair clutching onto their back as the goosebumps upon Mizu’s skin were awoken from the cold breeze that passed now and then. You could see everything that was once well hidden, and all you could think was the same thought you’ve had since first meeting Mizu; ethereal.

‘Apologies for the intrusion Mizu.’ You smiled at them as you continued to make your way towards a tree stump, placing down the clothes upon it neatly before picking up the torn, bloodied clothes Mizu came to bathe in the the lake in, taking them into your arms before looking back at Mizu, who was looking at you with an unreadable expression. ‘I just came to bring you a fresh set of clothes, just for the meantime.’ You gestured to the bundle of clothes in your arms only to receive a stare in response. ‘I’ll be leaving now, enjoy the rest of your bathe Mizu.’ You added before taking your leave back through the small trail through the woods.

Mizu on the other hand was uncertain how to handle to you now knowing, though it was purely accidental but that didn’t matter because you now knew, and yet your lack of reaction -or any that would’ve been clear as crystal upon your face- was Mizu’s main point of intrigue. You didn’t change the way you acted towards them, if anything you continued with your task as though nothing was new, nothing had altered the way you perceived them. It was perplexing experience to say the least for them and Mizu vowed to catch you up about this later on, but until then stiching up their wounds and getting changed was their top priority.

It went before long that everyone expect you had since fell asleep, Mizu chose to take this as a sign to strike up a conversation with you in regard to earlier; not wanting to miss out a single detail they wanted to ask before you go to sleep. So just as you were about to succumb to sleep yourself, you were about to wish Mizu goodnight as you walked past, only to be stopped when you felt their hand grab ahold of your wrist; Stopping you in your tracks completely.

‘Mizu, is everything alright?’ You asked and just like that the words left Mizu’s mouth faster than their brain could’ve processed them. ‘You saw me, down by the lake.’ Mizu started, their hand on your wrist squeezed a little tighter. ‘You saw all of me and yet didn’t bat an eye,’ Mizu now looked you dead in the eyes, ‘why, why didn’t you?’

‘Does my answer affect our relationship going forward?’ You questioned them softly as you sat yourself down next to Mizu, with patience and kindness at the ready, just like you always had.

‘I’ll base my judgment upon your response.’ Mizu replied, making you smile, they never wanted to give away how they felt so soon into the conversation, especially when there was some important and vital information for them to gain from it. ‘What I saw back at the lake, it doesn’t change that you’re Mizu and so I didn’t see it becoming of me to change my attitude towards you because of it.’ You began, looking Mizu into their eyes to prove your seriousness about this. ‘And I want you to also know that I’m still here for you, from now until we’re forced to part ways.’

Mizu didn’t say anything but their grip on your wrist immeditly went slack, giving you free range to move again but you chose not to. Not wanting to leave their side just yet. ‘I don’t know whether that’s the response you were looking for but I hope it was the one you needed to hear. I am here for you Mizu. Always.’ You finished before heading off to sleep.

#mizu imagines #Mizu imagine #mizu x reader #Mizu x you #blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai x reader #blue eye samurai x you #blue eye samurai imagine #blue eye samurai imagines

[fantasticallyfruity4]

Eddie is so hardcore with the pet names and Steve doesn’t know how to handle it.

Becuase no one’s ever called him the sweet names and terms of endearment. Tbh was always his job.

It’s the morning after Steve’s stayed the night the first time, and he’s making breakfast in the tight trailer kitchen one morning and Eddie gently moves him forward with soft hands on his back, with a kiss to his shoulder as he scoots behind him to refill his coffee cup.

“ ‘Scuse me baby love” me mutters, still pretty much asleep and not really aware of the effect he’s having on Steve. (Steve is ready to scream). Steve blushes, a little light headed the rest of the time he’s cooking.

And then there’s that time Eddie offered to just change Steve’s oil for him because ‘it’s really not that hard why pay $20 when I can just do it’ and Steve insisted he’d feel too bad. So eddie countered “fine, then you can help me if that makes it better”.

And while Steve’s sitting on the porch of the trailer being absolutely fucking useless -because of corse Eddie wasn’t gonna actually let him help he wouldn’t know how to be good for shit with cars anyway- Eddie suddenly called out “hey sweetheart? Can you go grab me a glass of water?”

And of corse Steve can do that he can do literally anything eddie asks in that tone. And does sweetheart give him a head rush? Yeah. But it’s what happens after that really gets him fucked up.

“Thank you pretty boy, you’re a life saver” Eddie grins, leaning over- careful to avoid getting any oil on Steve- and pressing a kiss to his cheek. And Steve keeps playing those words in his head for weeks. Pretty boy

And then there’s the honey boy incident. Steve can never get over that one. Fucking hell, honey boy. Where does eddie get these ideas from?

And then there had been that time steve was picking up the kids from hellfire, but apparently they’d decided to go play a game of manhunt in the time since eddie cut them loose from their journey and then Steve arrived.

And fuck, no way in hell was Steve going to rush the kids. Not when they were finally relaxed and safe enough to just be kids for once. So while leaving against the Beamer he was greeted by a grinning eddie.

“Hey baby boy, to what do I owe the pleasure?” He practically fucking purred, coming in close to Steve’s personal space- Eddie’s favorite place to be. And Steve’s favorite place for Eddie to be. Eddie knew damn well Steve was getting the kids today. Like every day he spent chauffeuring the kids or Robin around. And Eddie knew damn well those kids were off in the woods being assholes. And knew damn well he had some free time to flirt with his boyfriend because Steve would never take away these kinds of memories from his kids. So yeah he wanted to lay it on thick.

But baby boy? Steve was going to explode. So simple but so overwhelming.

“You can’t keep doing this to me”. It came out way whinier than Steve had wanted it to.

“Can’t keep doing what?” “Calling me those names! It’s embarassing!”

Eddie just grinned brighter.

“Is it embarrassing? Because it seems like you like it a lot. The way you blush, the way you sit there and babble after trying to get your brain to work again-“

“I do not-“ “oh baby you always do. You love it when I call you pretty names. Just admit it and I’ll never stop”

#steddie

[proxima-writes]

the old college try

pairing: frat dad!joel miller x college student!female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 5.1k

summary:

Family Weekend, or DILF Day as you and your friends like to refer to it, is when the University of Texas encourages the parents and families of its student body to visit the school and participate in activities that the Division of Student Affairs has organized. The fraternities and sororities have their own schedule that includes not-so-sanctioned house parties on frat row following the game. It’s your senior year and your last DILF Day so you’re hoping to go out with a bang. Literally. Enter Joel Miller, handsome single dad visiting his son at the Theta Lambda Upsilon fraternity house.

dear reader:

this is an extremely self-indulgent fic that i just had to write, so i hope you enjoy it! if you do, please consider leaving a comment or reblogging <3

content warnings:

explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), alternate universe - no outbreak/no sarah, age difference (42M and 23F), dub con - sex under the influence of alcohol, no use of y/n, frat party stereotypes, keg stands and beer pong, semi-public sex (frat bathroom), mild daddy kink (not during sex), p in v, oral sex (f receiving), dirty talk, cheesy dad jokes, the university of texas as a plot device. please let me know if any are missing!

You turn over in your bed with a deep groan, burying your face into your pillow. You reach your arm out from under the covers to grab your phone from the nightstand, smacking your hand around the wood surface until you find it and can bring it under the covers with you. Turning over, you tap the screen and squint at the series of unread text messages.

Ashley: Get up bitch! 

Ashley: It’s time to get ready!

Ashley: We’re going to be late if you don’t get up

Ashley: Don’t make me break into your apartment

Ashley: You know I can

You sit up quickly, shoving the blankets off of you and rushing to the front door, flipping the lock and pulling it open. Your best friend is across the threshold, knelt down on the ground with two bobby pins held up and her eyes wide in surprise.

“Aw man,” she laments, standing and brushing off her knees. “I wanted to test my skills.”

“I’m not paying to replace the lock,” you chastise, stepping back to let her in. “Sorry, overslept.”

“Figured. I’ll get your coffee started,” she replies, heading for your kitchen while you head back to your bedroom to start your morning routine. “Guess which frat is hosting the tailgate today?”

“Which one?” You shout from the bathroom as you run through your skincare routine.

“Theta Lambda Upsilon,” Ashley shouts back. The scent of brewing coffee paired with this excellent news has you perking up immediately. 

Your friend steps into your room with two mugs in her hands, passing one to you as you exit the bathroom and sit at your cluttered vanity, pushing aside products to make room to set your mug down. Ashley sits on your bed, folding her legs beneath her.

“The hottest frat hosting the tailgate and after party means we’ll get to see the hottest dads this weekend,” she says, shimmying her shoulders excitedly. “It’s simple genetics.”

“You dropped genetics. Remember? You couldn’t handle an 8 am class,” you say as you apply mascara. 

“I went to enough classes to know how a Punnett square works.”

You laugh, finishing your makeup between long sips of coffee. “It’s amazing you couldn’t tough it out through an early semester but give you an afternoon game and you’re trying to break into my apartment at the crack of dawn.”

“It’s DILF Day, baby. It’s like waking up on Christmas morning.”

Family Weekend, or DILF Day as you and your friends like to refer to it, is when the University of Texas encourages the parents and families of its student body to visit the school and participate in activities that the Division of Student Affairs has organized. The fraternities and sororities have their own schedule that includes not-so-sanctioned tailgates and house parties on frat row following the game.

As an out-of-state student, your parents have always skipped Family Weekend in exchange for buying your plane tickets back home for Thanksgiving and Christmas break, which leaves you with plenty of opportunity to ogle the hot dads that descend upon campus on this glorious weekend. You’ve never had the guts to actually pursue anything with anyone, but it’s your senior year and your last DILF Day so you’re hoping to go out with a bang.

Literally.

“What are you going to wear?” Ashley asks. 

“Shorts and that new tank top I got,” you reply, finishing your makeup with a pop of your lips after applying gloss. “And boots. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Ashley nods as you rifle through your closet for the outfit in question - denim cutoffs and orange Texas Longhorn tank top that hugs your curves and shows off the perfect amount of cleavage. Finishing the look with your worn brown cowgirl boots, you spin for your friend who gives you a thumbs up. “Sexy. I reckon’ this year you’ll catch yourself a DILF.”

You roll your eyes. “Maybe. We’ll see.”

Joel’s arm hangs out the truck’s open window, fingers tapping against the hot metal as he drives down the highway towards the Austin campus of the University of Texas. It’s Family Weekend and his son, Sean, started his sophomore semester at UT a few weeks prior and now lives in the Theta Lambda Upsilon fraternity house on campus after proving to Joel that he would take his classes seriously by doing well his freshman year. Joel’s always been close with his son as a single dad and the fact that Sean asked him to Family Weekend feels like a testament to that bond.

The campus is already bustling with the game day crowd, trucks parked in grassy areas along the road with their tailgates down, people setting up tents and tables and coolers. Joel drives slowly down the street until he’s turning down a side road and parking down the hidden drive his son had given him instructions to find. He hops from the truck, sneakers hitting the hot pavement and the sun already beating down on his arms as he makes his way towards the TLU house a couple blocks away. 

There’s a huge crowd of students and parents in shades of burnt orange and white on the front lawn of the two story fraternity house, red solo cups or cans of beer in hand. Joel looks around until he hears a familiar voice calling out, “Dad!”

Sean emerges from the crowd dressed in a white polo shirt with an orange Longhorn logo on the chest tucked into khaki pants, his curly brown hair slicked back with gel. Joel smiles, hugging his son and patting him on the back in greeting.

“Been ages since I saw you, kid. Have you gotten taller?” Joel asks.

Sean rolls his eyes. “You saw me last weekend!”

A voice calls out Sean’s name and the younger man throws an arm around Joel’s shoulders, dragging him along into the packed fraternity house. The scene inside is not unlike all the ones he’s seen in movies and TV shows - flags stuck to the walls as decor, a mysteriously sticky floor, and kitchen countertops filled with booze. Sean stops and grabs a red plastic cup, handing it to Joel. 

“Pick your poison,” Sean instructs, grabbing his own cup. Joel raises an eyebrow at him.

“Last I checked, you weren’t twenty-one,” he chastises, earning him another eye roll. 

“Like you didn’t know Uncle Tommy was buying me beer when I was a senior.”

“He what?” Joel asks, though the question is lost in the noise as Sean leads him to an impressive back deck hosting a beer pong table and two kegs nestled in plastic trash cans and surrounded by ice. 

Sean slips into the crowd surrounding the kegs, taking Joel’s cup from his hands, pumping the tap and filling each cup with ice cold beer, handing one to Joel. 

“Go Longhorns,” Sean says, tapping his cup to Joel’s and chugging the contents. Joel watches his twenty-year-old son with wide eyes and a torn conscience. 

“This is what I’m payin’ tuition for, huh?” He teases, taking a single sip of the cheap beer. A cheer erupts from behind him and he turns to look at what’s causing so much excitement.

You and a friend are at one end of a plastic folding table, glaring daggers at two boys at the other end, a single solo cup set on the table in front of you. You have a white ping pong ball held delicately between two fingers, your other hand propped on your hip as you squint one eye shut to take your aim for the cup that sits in front of the boys. You let the ball fly and it sinks into the cup, another cheer going through the small crowd gathered around you as you jump up and down excitedly.

Sean approaches the boys, slapping one of them on the shoulder. One of them shouts, “Redemption shot!”

“Oh, please! You can’t aim for shit, Chad!” You shout back. 

“Celebrity shot, then!” He suggests. The boy, Chad, reaches out to pull an older man to his side. “Dad edition!”

Your eyes scan the crowd, landing on Joel. You wave him over, the older man glancing around briefly before pointing to himself to confirm. You nod, smile bright as he approaches.

“I need a daddy for this celebrity shot, you wanna do the honors?” You ask sweetly. Joel swallows nervously, face heating at the suggestive tone and look you’re giving him. 

“Come on, dad!” Sean calls out. “Show ‘em what a Miller man can do!”

“Yeah,” you chime in. “Show me what a Miller man can do.”

“Alright, fine,” Joel acquiesces, moving to stand beside you. You slip a ping pong ball into his hand, standing so close beside him that your bare arm brushes his as you both watch Chad’s dad take aim for the single cup. 

The ball soars through the air, hitting the rim of the cup and bouncing off onto the table, rolling to the ground as the men groan. He feels you place a hand on his shoulder, your lips close to his ear as you whisper, “Come on, Mr. Miller. You’re my only hope.”

It doesn’t escape Joel’s notice that you keep your hand on his shoulder as he takes aim and throws the ball across the table, sinking it into the cup. You’re throwing your arms around his shoulders in celebration as the people around you shout excitedly. On instinct, Joel’s arms wrap around your waist, holding you close for a brief moment before coming to his senses and taking a step back.

“Thanks,” you say, looking up at him through your lashes. “I’m going to go inside for a drink. You want anything? I’ve got a stash of IPAs in a friend’s fridge upstairs if you want something better than Miller Lite. Consider it a thank you for winning me bragging rights over Chad.”

Joel should say no. He shouldn’t be taking up drink offers from someone half his age, but you’re giving him another devastating smile that has his resolve folding faster than a lawn chair in a hurricane.

“Sure.”

The hottest man you’ve ever seen is currently following you upstairs to your friend Craig’s room for a beer. He’s tall and tan with sweet brown eyes and dark hair that looks like it would be a dream to run your fingers through. His broad chest and toned biceps press deliciously at the confines of the white UT Longhorns shirt he’s wearing. When he stepped up beside you to throw your celebrity shot at the beer pong table downstairs, you’d noted that his left hand featured no wedding band or a tan line of one left behind.

You reach the second floor and head for the last door on the right, marked with a PRESIDENT plaque. You reach into the pocket for the key Craig had given you earlier and let yourself inside, heading for the mini fridge in the corner and grabbing two Yellow Rose IPA cans. 

“So,” you say, handing the man one of the drinks. “You got a name, or should I keep calling you Mr. Miller?”

“It’s Joel,” he says, taking a long sip of the beer. You watch the muscles of his throat work, longing to press your lips against the tan skin. 

You tell him your name, holding a hand out to him for a handshake. His grip is tight, sturdy, and for a brief moment you think about how his sure, thick fingers would feel deep inside of you. He looks around the room curiously as he pulls his hand back.

“Craig and I have been friends since freshman year,” you explain. “I helped him pass calculus, he lets me keep my beer out of the grubby hands of his frat brothers.”

“Calculus, huh?” He asks, taking another sip. “Must mean you’re pretty smart.”

“Just a basic engineering prerequisite,” you joke. 

“Engineering? That’s impressive.”

You take a seat on Craig’s bed, crossing one leg over the other. Joel’s eyes track the movement and you smile, giddy at the attention. “What do you do, Mr. Miller?”

“Thought you were gonna call me Joel?” 

“Mm, I can think of a few things to call you.”

Joel nearly spits his mouthful of beer out, choking on the bitter drink. You rush towards him, patting him on the back as he coughs. After a moment of fighting for breath, the man seems to realize how close you are, his gaze flicking between your eyes and your lips, trailing down to your chest. 

You lean in a little closer, pressing yourself to him and you think this might be it, Joel Miller might be the DILF of your dreams as he leans into you as well. 

But the doorknob rattles and the door swings open, Joel jumping back in surprise as both of you turn to look at the doorway. Craig leans against the frame, an eyebrow raised and a knowing smirk on his lips. You roll your eyes.

“Hey,” he says, looking between you and Joel. “Ashley’s lookin’ for you downstairs. We’re headin’ to the stadium now.”

“I better find Sean, then,” Joel says. Craig’s eyes light up.

“You’re Miller’s dad? Hey, man, nice to finally meet you. I’m Craig, TLU president.” The men shake hands, patting each other on the back. “Sean’s a good kid, we’re happy to have him.”

“Good to hear,” Joel replies. 

“Well, guess I’ll go find Ashley.” You place a hand on Joel’s shoulder. “It was nice to meet you, Mr. Miller. Maybe I’ll see you later?” You let your hand trail down the man’s bicep as you leave and you watch his throat work around a nervous swallow.

“Yeah, sure,” he says. “See you later.”

The Longhorns pull off an impressive win, a 49-0 blowout against Oklahoma that has the entire campus celebrating with abandon. If Joel thought the TLU house was packed for the tailgate, that crowd was nothing compared to the after game party. More alcohol, more people, and more noise is packed into the house. Joel sticks close to Sean, meeting more of his frat brothers and their parents with shouted introductions. 

When the stale air inside the house gets too overwhelming, Sean leads him to the deck. More kegs have appeared and his son bumps him with his shoulder, nodding towards where a few people are gathered around one, a man hoisted upside down by two people gripping his legs as he chugs directly from the keg tap. He spits the valve out as the crowd shouts a chorus of, “Twenty!”

“I bet you could do better,” Sean says. Joel raises an eyebrow at him.

“I know what you’re doin’, kid, and it ain’t gonna work,” Joel replies. Sean puts his hands up.

“I’m not doin’ anythin’. But if you’re too scared, you can tell me.”

“I’m not scared.” 

“Hey, my dad’s got next!” Sean shouts, dragging Joel through the crowd with an arm around his shoulders. Joel tries to argue but a familiar face in the crowd has the words dying on his tongue. You wiggle your fingers at him in a wave and suddenly he has the motivation to execute the most impressive keg stand of his life.

Joel grabs the cold handles of the keg, Sean and one of his fraternity brothers lifting him into the air so that he’s suspended upside down over the barrel of beer. People begin counting, shouting numbers as he attempts to focus on the beer flooding his mouth and drinking it down steadily. It’s been a long time since he’s done one of these, probably before Sean was even born, but if there’s one thing Joel has never been, it's a quitter.

After what feels like forever he spits the valve out with a gasp and he gets lowered back to ground as the crowd shouts, “Thirty-four!”

Sean’s frat brothers jump around him excitedly, hands patting him on the back and cheering his name. He laughs as Sean starts yelling, “That’s what I’m fuckin’ talkin’ about!”

Movement from the corner of his eye catches his attention and he turns his head just in time to see you disappear into the house. He tells Sean he’ll be back in a minute and follows after you, craning his neck to scan the mass of bodies crammed inside until he spots you on the stairs. 

When he finally manages to reach the stairs, he’s surprised to find them roped off at the bottom. Looking around to make sure no one is paying attention to him, he ducks beneath the barrier, taking the steps two at a time. The second floor is dark and empty but light spills into a hall from beneath the last door marked PRESIDENT.

Joel knocks on the wood, his head a little light from the rush of alcohol in his system but it has him feeling good. 

Confident. 

Maybe a little too confident because when you open the door, he wraps an arm around your waist, pushing his way inside as his lips find yours, a little noise of surprise swallowed by him as his tongue explores yours.

He comes to his senses when your teeth nip at his bottom lip, jarring him back to a reality where he is a mature adult who thinks with his brain and not his dick. He grips you on the shoulders, breaking the kiss and holding you at arm's length.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t even ask if it was okay to kiss you, just came bargin’ in here like a bull in a goddamn china shop and you probably don’t even want—“

“Joel?” You interrupt. He blinks.

“Yeah?” He asks.

“Kiss me again.”

Joel kisses you again, but pulls away a second time to ask, “Wait, how old are you?”

“Twenty-three,” you reply, giggling as he mutters a low thank god before pulling you back into his arms. It’s another short lived kiss, the man leaning back once more as you huff in annoyance.

“Wait, how much have you had to drink?” He asks this time. 

“Less than you, Mr. Thirty-Four-Second Keg Stand,” you answer. He gives you a smirk that has your stomach doing somersaults. 

“You liked that, huh?” 

His hands slip into the back pockets of your shorts and you wrap your arms around his shoulders, fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. He kisses you again, slower this time, like he’s savoring the feel of your lips against his. Your heart is racing as he pulls you even closer and runs his hands up your back, warm palms exploring your curves like he’s trying to map them to memory.

You’re lost enough in each other that the sound of the door opening doesn’t register until an upset voice is saying, “Ugh, come on! No fucking in my room!”

“Shit,” you yelp, tearing yourself away from Joel. Craig is standing in the doorway with his arms crossed. You grab Joel’s hand and tug him towards the door of the en-suite bathroom, pulling him inside and slamming the door behind you, flipping the lock.

“Hey, wait a minute—“

“It’s not your room, Craig!” You yell through the wood. There’s a muffled curse from the other side.

“Condoms are under the sink,” he shouts back. You grin victoriously at Joel, who’s laughing so hard he has a hand pressed to his chest. You step up to him, grabbing that hand and bringing it around your waist.

“You sure about this?” Joel asks seriously, stepping forward until he’s crowding you against the door. You tilt your head up to look at his handsome face, his dark eyes so intense as he searches your face that you feel giddy.

“I mean, the location isn’t ideal, but at least Craig keeps his bathroom pretty clean,” you joke, noting the clear counter space and surprising lack of dirty clothing littering the floor. 

“Answer the question, sweetheart. You sure about doing this with me?”

You reach up, tangling your fingers into his soft curls, pulling him close until your lips graze his as you respond, “I’m so fucking sure.”

Whatever tether of control Joel had been holding onto seems to snap with your words, the man kissing you so roughly that all you can do is hold on, your fingers curling desperately against his scalp as his tongue dives into your mouth and tangles with yours. He tastes like beer and smells like a mixture of cedar and sweat, the combination intoxicating as he presses close and surrounds you with it.

Joel trails his lips across your jaw, nipping your earlobe before continuing down your neck. He sucks the thin skin over your pulse before soothing the sting with his tongue as you writhe against him, gasping at the sensation. You can feel his smile against your shoulder and as he presses a thigh between your legs, you get a brief feel of his hard cock behind the barrier of his basketball shorts.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he growls, hands trailing across your curves until he’s gripping one of your breasts, squeezing tightly.

“Not so bad yourself,” you moan. He chuckles darkly.

“The mouth on you.” He reaches two fingers into the low neck of your tank top, dragging it down over your breasts. He yanks the cups of your bra down in a similar fashion, the fabric bunched beneath your chest to expose your tight nipples to him. He dips his head down and wraps his lips around a tight bud, pulling it into his mouth as you gasp.

“Could show you some other things my mouth is good at,” you tell him as he releases your breast with a wet pop, lifting his head to look at you. 

“I have a better idea,” he says, dropping to his knees. He lifts one of your legs and wiggles your boot off, tossing it to the side before doing the same with the other.

“What are you doing?” You ask when his hands reach for the fly of your shorts. He pauses, looking up at you with concern. 

“I was plannin’ on eatin’ you out until you couldn’t think straight,” he says. His brows pinch together. “Do you not want that?”

“I-I’m not sure? I mean, no one’s ever…,” your sentence trails off, your eyes going wide.

Joel runs a soothing hand down your thigh, smiling up at you. “That’s a damn shame, baby. Let me show you how a real man takes care of a woman.”

You let him work your shorts and panties down your thighs, stepping out of them with a hand on his shoulder to steady yourself. He lifts one of your legs and settles it over his shoulder, opening you up to his hungry gaze. His eyes flick up to your face and he grins as he says, “Pretty all over, aren’t ya?”

Any smart reply you have died on your tongue as he starts kissing the sensitive skin of your thighs, starting at the knee that’s close to his face and moving up, up, up until you can feel his warm breath on your pussy. His tongue flicks across your clit, featherlight, but it’s enough to have you gasping his name. 

He starts a rhythm of messy swirls of his tongue over your sensitive bundle of nerves before dipping down to your entrance, the tip of his nose still brushing your clit and making you moan. You buck against his face and he immediately grasps your hips in his big hands, fingers curling into the flesh of your ass to hold you still as he lavishes your pussy with attention.

“Oh my god,” you pant, reaching down to tangle your fingers in his hair. He groans at the same time his lips wrap around your clit and the sound of his satisfaction has your orgasm taking you by surprise, washing through your veins and making you feel like you’re on fire. 

You feel breathless as he licks you slowly, thoroughly, his tongue making sure he’s gotten every last drop of your release. He leans back, slowly lowering your leg from his shoulder. His lips and chin are coated in your wetness, shiny in the light of the bathroom vanity, the sight making your cheeks feel hot and a nervous giggle spill free.

Joel grins, boyish and sweet. “Good?” He asks. 

“Great. Amazing,” you concur. “Ten out of ten. Your Yelp review will be glowing.”

“Shouldn't I be the one leavin’ the Yelp review? You were the meal after all.”

You blink at him. “Oh my god, that was so bad,” you say, laughter near hysterical.

He stands, his palms cupping your face and pulling you into a filthy kiss that quickly shuts you up, his tongue slowly exploring yours and introducing the musky taste of yourself to your taste buds. You reach down, palming his hard cock through his shorts and the responding groan you receive from the older man has you clenching in anticipation.

Joel breaks the kiss, pulling you against his body and turning until you’re facing the vanity, your hips pressed to the edge of the laminate counter. You watch his reflection in the mirror as he runs a hand down your back, pressing you forward slightly so that you’re bent over the counter, ass slightly tilted up. His hand continues lower until it’s running reverently over one cheek. He catches your eye in the mirror.

“You gonna let me fuck you just like this?” He asks. Your breath hitches as his fingers trace through your folds, one dipping into your entrance. He watches your face in the mirror, eyes dark and expression serious. “Answer me.”

“Fuck, yes, anything,” you say quickly. He thrusts his finger slowly, curling it against your front wall with every pull from your body. One finger becomes two, the slight stretch making you whine as he continues to work them in and out of you. “Joel, please.”

“Please what, baby?” He asks.

“Need you to fuck me,” you tell him. 

Joel grins, removing his fingers and urging you to the side so he can open the cabinet under the sink. He crouches down, rummaging through the contents for a moment before standing with a victorious expression and a foil packet pinched between his fingers. He shoves his basketball shorts and boxers down his thighs, just low enough to free his impressive cock, thick and long with a slight curve up that has your mouth watering. He rolls the condom on and then grabs your hips, the tip of his length sliding through your folds and making your breath catch.

“You ready, baby?” He asks, squeezing your hips. You meet his gaze in the reflection, your lips tilted in a smirk.

“Been ready for a while, old man,” you tease. He raises his eyebrows and draws his hand back, landing a sharp smack to your ass that has you crying out. 

Before the sting even fades, he’s pushing inside of you with one steady thrust until his hips are flush to your ass. Your fingers curl around the edge of the counter and you lift onto your tiptoes, trying to escape the sudden sensation of his cock stretching you so well. He chuckles darkly, tight hands on your hips keeping you from going too far.

“Old man,” he taunts, mimicking the higher pitch of your voice. He reaches forward, palm resting beneath your chin as his fingers and thumb press into your cheeks, tilting your head up so that your eyes meet his in the mirror as he says, “Eyes up, sweetheart. You watch how this old man fucks you.”

Joel draws his hips back and slams forward, the head of his cock burying so deep inside of you that your eyes roll back from the exquisite stretch and pressure. He sets a rhythm that has a constant string of moans and pleas spilling from your parted lips, a slow pull out and a rough push in that makes you see stars. If you dare to let your chin drop or your eyes shut, the strong hand around your throat reminds you of his demand that you watch.

“That feel good, baby?” He grunts. “My cock in this tight fuckin’ pussy?”

“Yes, yes, yes!”

“That’s right, who’s fuckin’ you so good? Say my name, sweetheart, wanna hear it from that pretty mouth.”

“Joel!” You cry out, the tight coil of pleasure in your belly finally unraveling, your cunt pulsing greedily around his cock as you cum. He curses, his rhythm going sloppy as he fucks you through your release and right into his own.

His hand leaves your throat and his head drops to your shoulder, soft kisses being left on your shoulder blades as you both catch your breath. After a long moment, he pulls back from you, removing the condom and tying it off to toss it in the garbage.

You straighten up from your bent position over the counter, fixing your bra and tank top back into place. Turning, you find Joel holding your shorts and panties. 

“Was that…are you…did you—“ 

You lean into him as you grab your clothes, kissing him softly. Pulling back, you murmur, “That was amazing.”

Joel sighs in relief, watching as you get dressed and tug your boots back on. “Good. That’s…good.”

“Why don’t you head downstairs first? I need to freshen up,” you suggest. Joel nods, but doesn’t make a move to leave. You raise your eyebrows at him and that seems to have him getting the hint. 

“Oh! Right, I’ll just…go downstairs,” he says. You giggle, leaning into him for one more kiss before he disappears from the bathroom and you busy yourself with fixing your appearance to look a little less well fucked.

Downstairs, Joel wanders through the first floor in search of his son. He feels a flash of guilt for leaving him for so long, especially to fuck a woman half his age in a frat house bathroom, but the guilt is short lived when he finds his son with his tongue down the throat of a blonde girl in the living room.

“Jesus Christ,” he mumbles, turning to head for the front door instead. It’s getting late and now seems like a good time to head home.

He’s a few steps out the front door when he hears his name called out and you appear from the doorway. 

“You heading out so soon?” You ask, bottom lip jutting out in a pout that he kind of wants to kiss from your lips. He runs a nervous hand through his hair.

“Uh, yeah. Was gonna head home,” he says. Christ, he has no idea why he’s acting so weird, but you have him tied up in knots. 

“You know…my apartment isn’t far. Maybe…maybe you don’t have to go home just yet?” You say, looking up at him through your lashes.

Those knots of uncertainty loosen and Joel holds a hand out to you.

“Lead the way, baby.”

Joel Miller Masterlist

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel tlou #no use of y/n #joel x reader #joel the last of us #joel miller tlou #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction #tlou hbo #tw age gap #tw age difference

[sp0o0kylights]

Part One / Part Two

A03

It ain’t much.” Wayne started, half-curious if the sight of his trailer would be the thing to offend Steve’s (so far lacking) born-rich sensibilities. 

Of course turning to look at the kid proved he was in his own head about this more than Steve was, because Steve had his eyes closed and looked two seconds away from puking. 

Right. 

Pain management. 

“I’ll get your stuff.” Wayne said as he guided the truck to its usual parking spot. 

Steve’s quiet ‘okay’ had him hustling a little bit, and the fact he had to gently guide the kid’s hand off his bag handle told him it was the right choice. 

The nailbat could wait in the car for the moment he figured, as he led Harrington in. He’d get it sorted once he’d fished out the pain pills and gotten Steve settled a bit. 

"Eds--he's my nephew that I told you about--has the bedroom, so you and I get to share out here." Wayne explained as he loaded Steve up on Tylenol and put a bag of frozen peas in his hand, not bothering to give a tour of the trailer. 

It was pretty damn clear which door led to the bathroom and which didn’t, given Ed’s door was wide open. 

Steve peeked at the absolute chaos strewn about beyond the doorframe but didn’t say nothing of it. 

Didn’t, in fact, even look too long, instead sitting at the table as directed. 

Seemed to sink a little into it, leaning an elbow on the cheap wood to help keep his head up. 

"The couch is a pull out, but I'll warn you the bar across the middle is nasty. I usually sleep on the cot over there," Wayne nodded to where it was rolled neatly against the opposite wall, "but given the state of you, I'll let ya have your pick." 

Steve blinked (or winked, not like Wayne could tell since the peas were pressed against half of his face) finally seeming to perk up a bit. "I can't take your bed." 

"I'm not going to fight you for it, I'm just offering." Wayne responded, now focused on trying to locate the bandages in his ancient medical kit. 

The one on Steve's hand was falling apart, and he didn't like the look of the injury he could see under it. 

Yeah, Wayne was absolutely going to need to make a run to the store. 

“Lemme see.” He asked as he finally got what he wanted. 

It seemed to take Harrington a minute to process what Wayne wanted, but he finally held out his injured hand, watching as Wayne unwrapped the bandages.

"I'll take the couch." Steve said stubbornly, but Wayne was past it, too busy frowning at the kid's hand. 

It took him a moment, once he'd gotten it all off, to properly realize what he was seeing--that the mottled bruising on Steve's wrist was separate from the cut across his palm.

In fact, it looked a hell of a lot like…

Wayne paused, then pretended to fuss with the dirty bandages for a moment while his eyes sought out Steve's other wrist.

Sure enough, matching bruises.

Someone had tied the kid up--and it hadn’t been the feds, because these bruises were partially healed. 

Wayne had initially thought of Steve as having been tortured in the same way roving bands of neighborhood kids tortured their peers. The kind of hurt that came when it was an unfair fight; four on one and wielding knives, so you had to take what you were given and pray you didn't get stabbed. 

He was not thinking actual, honest to God torture. 

Yet here the evidence was, plain as day.

'What the hell went down in that mall.' 

Someone as young as Steve shouldn't have been caught up in it, and it made a deep part of Wayne ache for the poor kid across from him.  

All this shit, and his parents still couldn't be bothered to come home.Just left him on his own, as if it was another Tuesday. 

Did they even know? Wayne wondered as he got to work. Had Steve, or Hopper, or anyone tried to call them about the mallfire? Let them know their son got hurt?

Jim said he hadn’t bothered to reach out regarding the spooks, but that had been a week or so later past the fire. 

Wayne couldn’t even imagine it. 

Getting a call that Eddie been involved in such a thing would have him off the couch in an instant, and the image that played on the news, the ones all the reporters talked over of a gurney being wheeled out of Starcourt’s on fire front doors…

He’d have been a wreck until he had his kid in his sights. 

‘Nothing you can do for that,’ Wayne figured silently, ‘but you can help him now.’

Wayne wasn't exactly an expert when it came to wound care, but like many people who just couldn't afford to go to a doctor he'd gotten by.

Learned a lot of home remedies. Figured out pretty quick when something needed to be seen by an expert and when you could hold off.

Made friends with some of the local nurses on the night shift down at the Red Barn, well enough that a few well baked treats and dishes could sometimes be traded for looking over a potentially broken arm or two. 

It had come in handy plenty, given Ed’s ability to attract trouble, but thankfully he’d never managed to hurt himself like this. 

He’d never even gotten caught in a bad fight. 

A black eye or two sure, but the kid had adapted his “scary” act not too long after Wayne had gotten him, and it seemed to work as intended. It was half the reason Wayne never said anything about it (and hell, even let Eddie take his ancient leather motorcycle jacket.) .

All of that was to say that he could tell Harrington's hand needed cleaning before it could be rebandaged, but didn't appear to need stitches. 

Course pouring alcohol all over an injury like this wasn't exactly going to be fun, and he told Steve as such.

"I know." Steve replied, with a grimace. The kid’s injuries seemed to be getting to him, and Wayne anticipated he was going to drop here the second Wayne was done looking him over. 

He hoped Harrington could get in a few hours--particularly before Eddie came home. 

Wayne gently wiped it clean, noting how well Steve sat given the amount of pain he had to be in.

Tylenol, even given the more than recommended amount he'd given Steve, just wasn't going to cut it. 

Not in general, and definitely not for this. 

What could help was likely something Eds had, which was yet another conversation Wayne wasn't looking forward to having.

Particularly given that Eds had sworn off selling hard drugs after his last encounter with Hopper, and Wayne knew damn well that had only lasted until the damn kid caught sight of an overdue bill. 

Too smart for his own good, Eddie was.

"I can give you something to bite down on, if you like." Wayne said to Steve, getting the alcohol and bandages ready to go. 

He got a tight smile in response. "So long as you don't use a needle, I'm good." 

And Wayne figured it was just teenager talk--a young man who didn't really know how bad this was going to be, and prepared himself to hold Steve's arm down accordingly so they wouldn't have to do it twice.

"Four." Wayne counted down. "Three. Two."

He poured on two.

Better that than Steve clenching up in anticipation.

Steve hissed, arm jerking, but stilled it under his own power as Wayne began dabbing his hand with some of the medkit’s wipes. 

He felt his eyebrow raise as Harrington froze himself in place, breathing in a way that felt practiced. 

This, Wayne decided, was not Steve's first rodeo. 

"Almost done." He promised softly as he finished wrapping the wound back up, this time in the pattern he'd been shown long ago. 

"Thanks." Steve said, blinking rapidly. 

The kid's eyes were wet, but he didn't let a tear fall, and that perked Wayne's attention more than anything. 

Some men felt they weren't allowed to cry--and pushed the same ideals on their sons. 

It wouldn't surprise him any if Richard Harrington was one of them. 

"I know you got hit more than just your hands and face kid." Wayne said, after letting Steve have a moment to recover. "You bleeding under that shirt?"

"Not bleeding." Steve murmured, looking more and more like he was struggling to stay upright now that the worst part was over. "I think my hand got the worst of it."

"Do I want to know what happened there?" Wayne asked, keeping his voice calm and non judgemental. 

Like they were back to talking sports.

"I fell back into a broken window.” Steve responded, and now that Wayne had seen the kid lie, it was easy to see when he was telling the truth. 

"Ouch." Wayne said flatly. Which made that hint of a smile flash across Steve's face. 

"I'll cut you a deal. I taped last weekend's game, but haven't had time to watch it yet. I figure you might not have had a chance neither." He sat back, nailing Harrington with a no-nonsense stare. "You let me take a look at what they did to your chest n' back there, and I'll put it on."

Steve just looked at him a little miserably, a beaten dog still hesitant to wag its tail. "I don't think there's anything you can do for it, it's really mostly bruised. Nothing feels broken though."

"You know what broken ribs feel like?" Wayne questioned partially out of curiosity but mostly to make sure.

Teenage boys loved to think themselves immortal after all.

Or at least his did.

"Cracked, but yeah." Steve admitted. "Couldn't finish out the year on the basketball team because of it."

He said it like it didn't hurt, but Wayne knew better.

Boy like Steve? 

He'd bet big bills something like basketball was all the kid really had, in terms of positive relationships.

(Except apparently, whatever had made Hopper decide to look after him.)

"I mostly just wanna make sure nothing looks like it's broken or bleeding internally son." Wayne said, then tried to cinch it with some good old guilt tripping. "I'd hate to have to tell Hopper that after all he went through to keep you safe, you up and died on my couch." 

"Hey, it might save him some future gray hairs." Steve responded but he looked a little more open to the idea, at least. 

It took a bit more coaxing, but Wayne finally got the kid to take his shirt off. 

The damage had him whistling out of instinct.

A fucking artist had gone to town on his torso, with bruised of all shades parading around to his left side. 

Thankfully most of it didn't hold that deep, dark tone that indicated any kind of bleeding, his back had scratches and road rash, and his shoulder had one long, thin line that looked a hell of a lot like Steve had narrowly avoided getting cut with a knife. 

"You got lucky, kid." Wayne told him.

Steve let out a shaky breath. "I know." 

He hesitated, then opened his mouth, a question clear on his face. 

Which of course, was the exact moment Eddie chose to walk through the door. 

"Hey old man, I--Harrington!?" 

"Munson?" Steve said, looking just as confused. "What are you doing here?"

"I live here?" Eddie had frozen in their little entryway, so close the door nearly whacked him on the ass as it slammed closed. 

Privately, Wayne cursed his nephew's awful timing.

"What are you doing here?" Eddie challenged back, and it was only years of Wayne knowin’ the kid to see he was struggling to decide how he wanted to react. 

“Uh…” Steve said, trailing off and looking pointedly at Wayne. 

Eddie saw this just as he registered all of Steve’s injuries. “Shit Wayne, did you hit him with your car?” 

“Don’t try to be funny, boy.” Wayne warned. There wasn’t much bite there, and Eddie, far too used to him, didn’t take it seriously.

Eddie was glued to the spot, eyes narrowing, “... Did Harrington hit the car with his fuckin’ face? Jesus christ.” 

Wayne could tell he was struggling to pull one of his usual little bits, eyes too wide and voice too high. 

He rubbed his eyes tiredly. “Eddie.”

“We can take him out back and shoot him, put the poor bastard out of his misery.” Eddie continued, like a runaway train. 

All gas, no breaks. 

It was a joke but a poor one, and it made Steve straighten out of his sideways slant. 

‘Dammit.’  Wayne thought with a sigh. 

He needed to stop this now, before the two of them went for each other's throats. 

“Since you already know each other I won’t bother with introductions.” Wayne cut in, before Eddie could blow up like a tea kettle--or cause Harrington to do the same. “Steve’s gonna be staying with us for a while.”

That of course, got the reaction Wayne had been hoping to avoid. 

Eddie stood stunned for a second, mouth gaping like a fish. 

“Why!?” He finally landed on, seeming both at a loss for words, and equally trying not to have a proper meltdown in front of Steve. 

Certainly wasn’t for Wayne’s benefit. 

"I'm…" Steve glanced at Wayne a second time, "...on vacation?"

 It took everything Wayne had in him not to run a hand down his face. 

He was going to give Harrington a pass, on account of the head trauma.

"You’re vacationing here.”Eddie’s tone was flat, but seething, like a lit fuse. “In my living room?” 

“...Yeah?” He finished poorly tone up-ticking at the end like it was a question. “It’s a--college thing. Supposed to help my applications.” 

This time, Wayne did run a hand down his face this time. 

God save him from idiot teenagers. 

Hands clenched tight, Eddie took an aborted glance to the right before shaking his head hard and scoffing. At least it let Wayne know exactly what his kid was thinking. 

To Eddie’s right was the counter where Wayne kept the bills. 

Before he realized just how badly Ed’s daddy had messed him up about such things, Wayne hadn’t bothered to hide the bills that were past due. Turns out the kid noticed such things, and worry over money had been the leading factor in more than one of Eddie’s run-ins with Hop.

Clearly, he thought it was the cause of Wayne entertaining this bullshit. 

Offense was written in every rigid line of his body, and Wayne knew betrayal wasn’t gonna be far behind. 

“What the hell Wayne!” Eddie spat, taking a singular step forward, the accent he tried so hard to hide growing thicker the madder he got. “We’re not a damn experiment--why would you agree to that!?” 

He had seconds to salvage this, before Ed’s ran and did something dumb. 

“‘Steve’s here cause I owe Hopper a favor.” Wayne answered honestly, standing to put himself between the two. “He reminded me of all the times he’s been good to you, and then he called it in. Now,” 

He cut Eddie off before his rant could pick up steam and bowl them all over. “I need you both to listen to me. Steve, I need Eddie to know the basics in order to keep you safe. I’ll only tell him what he needs to hear to understand why that is.” 

Steve stared at him for a moment, catching Wayne’s eye as the elder man positioned himself so he could see both boys at once.

“Okay.” Steve said, dropping the hesitant tone for something serious. 

Eddie said nothing, crossing his arms tightly over his chest and gripping the edges of his jacket hard enough to leave creases. 

Judging that as good enough, Wayne continued. “He’s not here on vacation, Ed’s. Hopper has asked us to house Steve for a bit due to an ongoing situation. It’s a dangerous one, and it’s important you do not tell anyone that Steve is here.”

Eddie’s mouth did the thing it did when he desperately wanted to say something, but Wayne held up a finger in the universal “wait.” position. 

“Let me finish.” He warned, and though he caught a hell of a glare for it, Eddie remained silent. 

“Right now I need you to trust me, son.” He said softly, and prayed that alone was enough for now. “I don’t do things without a good reason behind it. I know you know that. Let me get Steve settled, and I’ll come talk to you.” 

He could go in depth a little more, outside of Harrington’s eyesight. There Eddie would be inclined to drop the parts of his personality he put on blast as a defense mechanism, and ideally, Steve could get the sleep he so desperately needed. 

“It’ll be tight, but we’ll all get through this so long as you two keep your heads. “You both got plenty of problems right now on your own, you don’t need to add to it. You understand?”  

Eddie’s eyes narrowed dramatically as he sucked in a deep breath. 

“Fine.” He snarled, letting air hiss through his clenched teeth. “As long as King Dick here can keep himself out of my shit.”

Steve didn’t rise to the bait--or perhaps, was simply too tired to want to do anything but exit the conversation. 

‘Yes Sir.” He said instead, and Wayne didn’t bother correcting him that time. Simply clocked the title as a nervous tick of Steve’s and let himself feel that brief pang of sorrow that he’d caused the kid to backslide a bit trust wise.

No use for it, though.

Not if he wanted peace in his home. 

“Good.” Wayne said. 

Eddie stormed past, beeling towards his room. 

The door closed with an angry slam, the sound echoing throughout the trailer. 

Steve reacted like a puppet with its strings cut, letting out his own breath and going right back to slumping sideways. 

“Come on kid.” Wayne said quietly. “I think it’s beyond time you got to lay down. Let’s get you a shirt and some blankets.”

Steve didn’t say a word, just managed to get himself up and over to the couch, fumbling for his bag. 

“Oh.” He said after a moment, pulling a green sweater from the duffel and blinking dully at it. “Shit--I mean, shoot.” He shot a guilty look to Wayne, like Eddie hadn’t just sworn up a storm in front of them both. 

“What’s the matter?” Wayne just asked. 

“It’s nothing, I just-- grabbed the wrong bag.” Steve told him earnestly. It was clear the day had taken a hard toll on him, because he was blinking rapidly, fighting away sleep. 

A bad sign, given the energy Eddie had just come in with. 

It should be taking him longer to feel safe to drop off, and that he was doin’ so anyway was a bad testament to the state of him. 

“You need a different one?”

Steve shook his head. “No this is just my grab bag for the Upsi-errrm.” He hummed, before falling silent for a minute. 

Wayne let him fish for words at his leisure. 

“These are just clothes that I couldn’t get stains out of, kept them as backups.” Steve managed, before beginning the long process of pulling a shirt on. 

Wayne almost offered to help, except he knew he’d likely be rejected. It was too soon, the trust between them not there yet. 

He almost let the clothing comment go, figured it as  just one of those things the brain did when it was injured and run down. The sweater Steve was struggling with was expensive and soft, and Wayne didn’t even see a stain until the poor kid finally finished getting it on. 

He nearly froze, for the second time that day, when he did.

On one sleeve, smeared like Steve had wiped his face with it, was a bloodstain. 

This one was old, and clearly attempts had been made to get it out. 

‘Aw kid.’ He thought, staring at Steve as the kid managed to swing himself up on the couch, looking seconds away from dropping off. ‘What the hell has life done to you.’

It didn’t take long before sleep took him, but Wayne watched over him for a bit longer anyway, working up to what the hell he was going to tell his kid. 

Eddie might very well not forgive him for this, but Wayne had a shot now to head things off before they got worse. 

He just had to find the right words. 

#small town rumors #steddie #pre steddie #wayne pov #outsider pov #wayne munson is a bamf #hey look eddie showed up! #little shit FOUGHT ME and is still fighting me a bit in the next chapter #I need him to quit being an asshole and go into more of that hurt/comfort section of this fic #hurt/comfort #enemies to lovers #sorta #its on a03 noooowstranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #0o0 fanfics #beat to shit steve harrington

[vivalabunbun]

Sweet Sweet Nothings

Summary: The sweet lull of normalcy in an unconventional marriage

Word Count: 7K

Tags: Alhaitham x Fem! Reader, Fluff, this is just pure fluff, Smut, NFSW, MDNI, Omegaverse AU, A/B/O relationships, Modern AU, Alpha! Alhaitham, Beta! Reader, breeding, biting, established relationship, TW: Very vague mentions of gender dysphoria (of your secondary gender), TW: pregnancy and birth, Protective! Alhaitham, Jealous! Alhaitham

Authors Note: This isn’t much of a story, think of it as a collection of sweet nothings and domestic life with Alhaitham and the Sumeru cast after this. I just felt like I had to give them fluff after that slow burn. Enjoy!

Teal-orange eyes snapped towards the ticking clock on his oak desk, the time read 5 pm. Alhaitham’s duties were over for the day, now he had more pressing matters to attend to. Swift hands gathered up the papers scattered across the dark wood, stacking them into a neat pile before his body pushed against his plush seat. The golden glint of the ring on his finger only spurred him on to quickly exit his office. 

“Hey! Alhaitham are you leaving work now? Great, how about we grab some drinks with-”

“No. I’m busy.” He bluntly dismissed his blond senior. 

A firm hand snatched up his blazer that had been thrown across the back of his seat, the other flicked off the desk lamp. 

“Oi! Your senior is inviting you to a-”

“If you have a request you need approved then please leave it on my desk, I’ll look over it once I return back to the office on Monday.” Alhaitham skirted past the blond’s still frame at the doorway, paying no mind to the disgruntled scrunch on Kaveh’s face. His mind was focused on more pressing matters. 

–

“And then the brat just WALKS past me as if I were some dust on the ground! Could you believe that?” Kaveh thumps his glass back onto the tavern table, a small splash of wine lapped over the side. 

Tighnari took another big swig from this glass, his ears weren’t drunk enough to handle the tumultuous complaining of the blond. Cyno was only half-heartedly listening, ruby eyes trained on the brand-new deck of cards he had spent the week building in his hands. 

Yes, it is just a typical Friday afternoon. Colleagues gathered at Lambad’s Tavern, congregating at an outdoor table and enjoying the nice wine and early Spring air. Although more often than not, there would only be three seats filled instead of four. 

“Just what is so important that they trifle over common courtesy? In the world of job opportunities, networking and connections are a critical part of getting higher up the chain. Just how did that shrewd man get that promotion?” Kaveh’s face already had the tall tale signs of a drunken glow. 

“Well, it’s not really that out of character for him. People have always found his actions grating, but his efficiency at his work can’t be denied.” Tighnari rested his head on his hand. 

“There’s been a change in the head secretary lately.” Cyno asserted, eyes now trained somewhere else. 

“Oh? How so? He’s the same old crude man.” Kaveh dismissed. 

Cyno motioned with his eyes at a sight just behind the two other men. Two confused heads turned to follow his gaze. Nearly choking on their drinks at the scene they were now witnessing. 

There stood Alhaitham’s towering figure walking hand in hand with yours, bags filled with books and miscellaneous trinkets carried in his other. What made the men uncomfortable was the uncanny softness dawned on the stoic secretary’s face, as his teal eyes focused on you. 

His Beta wife was pressing her body against his arm as she spoke close to his ear, pointing at random stalls and vendors. Alhaitham leaned down to hear you through the chattering crowd, making sure to maneuver your bodies through the bustling streets. 

The three men didn’t know what to make of the scene in front of them as the couple walked out of sight, still holding each other close. Kaveh wonders if the wine being served today was stronger than usual. However, the three unwed men now got their answer to Alhaitham’s sudden full schedule. 

The table of bachelors called for more wine. Maybe to cleanse their palette of the sour taste of jealousy. 

–

“Have you seen Alhaitham today? I’ve been trying to hand him this paperwork since Friday.” Kaveh approached the head lawyer at the water cooler, the weekend was now over and it was now Monday, and the secretary was nowhere to be seen. 

“Hm? The head secretary applied to use his paid vacation time off. It was approved last Friday.” Cyno took a sip from the paper cup. 

“Huh?” The papers fluttered out of the architect’s slack hands, jaw agape. 

His junior truly was trying to annoy him to death. That conniving bastard Alhaitham. 

Fontaine was very different from Sumeru, with different types of foods, shops, and culture. It was quite exciting the first week of your late honeymoon to duck into every shop along the city streets. You discovered that your husband was fluent in the language, anything you pointed at he would translate for you without hesitation. However, the wonder of sightseeing faded within just a few days, like the true homebodies you were, there was a silent agreement to spend the rest of the time in the grand honeymoon suite. 

The hotel Alhaitham booked was the most luxurious one Fontaine had to offer. You will have to blame this decision on the generous amount of financial freedom granted by a pharmaceutical payout. It was only fair in Alhaitham’s mind, you worked very hard during the rut brought on by faulty inhibitors. Hard work should be rewarded, so he decides you should be indulged with the best room service, fancy baths, and thousand-count silk sheets. 

How you spent your time in the suite was really no different than how you would spend it in Sumeru. Alhaitham was laying down on the silk sheets, back slightly propped up by down feather-filled pillows, unwinding with a book in his hand. 

“Ah…Ah!... Ah… Making your wife do all the work while on vacation? You’re such a terrible husband, Haitham.” You stilled your hips, hands propping yourself up along his toned body. 

“Mm? You were really enjoying yourself, I didn’t want to interrupt.” There was a teasing tilt in his voice, teal eyes never looking away from the sentences printed as his other hand rubbed circles into your hip. 

From this angle he reached deeper than usual, making you feel so much fuller. Your walls were clenching down, trembling with pleasure from the stretch and thick tip poking that one spongey spot. A while ago you had abandoned your book in favor of bouncing up and down on your husband’s lap. It was your late honeymoon, after all, there was almost five years' worth of time to make up for. 

You knew your husband was just teasing you, but your lips couldn’t stop a pout from forming. You shifted a bit more on top of his god-like physique, pressing his tip deeper against that sweet little spot deep inside. Wandering hands made their way to grope at his plush pectorals followed by your pouting face, eyes trained on the book your husband was so engrossed by. 

“Hmph…” A displeased huff left your lips, it was absolutely adorable to him. 

“Is something the matter?” The corner of his lip was upturned just the slightest bit. 

“It’s our honeymoon and yet my husband is already having an affair with a book.” You playfully sulked into his chest. 

“My, I never knew my wife was the jealous type.” Finally, he snapped the book closed, playful eyes gazing into yours. 

“I guess you learned something new then.” You gently confiscated the book from his hand, placing it farther away on the large bed. 

Alhaitham gave a hum of acknowledgment, both hands now firmly seizing the sides of your waist. Steadying your body before following it up with a solid snap of his hips. You pressed your face harder against his chest, muffling the moan that was suddenly forced out of you. 

“Isn’t this what you wanted? Why are you so quiet now?” His hips set a rhythm, slow and deep. 

His thick length dragged along your slick walls in all the right ways, you could feel every inch outlined inside you. Each roll of his hips gently lifted your body up before accompanying it back down. Your mouth fell open, breathing out soft moans against his warm skin. The smell of lust hung heavy in the air of the spacious room. But you wanted more, this slow lovemaking couldn’t satisfy the greed deep within. 

“Mmm… More…” 

“More?” His pace escalates just the slightest bit. 

The sloppy sounds of your connecting bodies were louder now, with each in and out of your slick cunt like purrs of pleasure. He was hitting that spot that brings shooting pleasure throughout your nerves. Still, maybe it's because your expectations have been set a bit high from your first taste, but your greed wanted more. 

“More~” You breathed out, face now pressed into the crook of his neck. 

“Mmm, I think I know what my lovely wife wants.” A hand supports the back of your head, smoothing out the hair. 

Swiftly you got turned under him, his board frame now looming above, that handsome smirk on his face. He rested your head gently on the dawn pillows, as your arms wrapped around his neck pulling him down closer to you. The combination of his weight on top of you and how heavy he felt inside your sobbing cunt sent shivers up your spine. Yes, this is what you wanted. 

Leaving the crook of his neck, your lips chased after his. Alhaitham couldn’t help but let out a small huff, you were quite needy today. His lips captured yours in a deep kiss, shallowing all your noises. He shall spoil you, it was your honeymoon after all. 

In this position, he had much better footing and grasp on your waist. Meaning the strength and pace of his hips slamming into yours increased to the rhythm you desired. Moans were flowing out like water from your mouth, eyes teary with lust. The claps of your bodies echo through the room, he would pull out to the tip then slam back in. Just the way you liked it. 

Teal eyes observed your loose face, the rolling back of your eyes signaling that the knot was about to come undone. But before he lets you reach cloud nine, you have to answer a question that he’s been pondering. 

“Would you rather have consistent pleasure spread evenly throughout the year… or four days of nonstop, mind-melting pleasure then nothing for the rest?” Alhaitham asked right up against your ear, making your skin bristle. 

You felt his hips roll back to their slow methodical pace. Oh, he wasn’t going to let you taste sweet release until you paid the toll of his curiosity. Really, your husband can be so mean sometimes. You let out a small whine, trying to roll your hips into his but his firm hold prevented such action. 

“Answer the question, sweetheart.” Alhaitham continued to egg you on, clearly enjoying your displeased whines. 

“Why can’t I have both?” You muttered close to his own ears, tightening your embrace around him to offset the embarrassment creeping up on you. 

At your response his hips stilled, stoic teal eyes gazing at you as you looked away. You didn’t see the smirk that returned to his features. 

“Goodness, my wife is insatiable.” He dragged his length out fully. 

Before you could even let out another whine at the loss, he returned it fully inside of you. Filling out your unexpecting walls again pounding against that spongey patch, making your back arch up and toes curl. 

“AH!” Your body was pressed impossibly close to his. 

“I wonder if I should keep you at home, confined to the bedroom for your sake.” His hot breath ghosted over your ear. 

He was pistoning in and out now, fat tip abusing your sweet spot just the way you wanted it. Your walls were clenching around his girth just like how your arms were holding onto him to ground your sanity. The searing white flashes of pleasure were shooting up through your nerves, the edge was approaching fast. The filthy fantasy Alhaitham was painting in your mind only served to quicken the process. 

“All you have to do is be a good wife, and welcome me home with open legs. How about that?” Alhaitham pressed sweet kisses against your neck, a far cry from the filth that was leaving his tongue. 

You felt his teeth brush against the side of your neck before they clamped down. That was what unraveled the knot inside you. Your ankles hooked together as your hips pushed closer to his. Back arching almost painfully, bodying trembling and eyes rolling back. Alhaitham let out a small hiss at the tightness of your walls contracting. He wasn’t going to last long if you continued to be this impossibly tight. 

He could tell from the way your eyes were still seeing the back of your head you were still in the midst of your orgasm. This meant that Alhaitham was free to chase after his own release now. So he does. His length continues to pound against your quivering walls, pushing through the tight clenches. The extra gush of slick helped to accelerate his movements further. Sloppy slapping of skin against skin, he could feel that his tip was probably red and swollen from his calculated delayed release. 

Pressing his pulsing tip right up against your cervix, the tension inside him finally snapped. Flooding your walls with thick, warm release. Your body instantly responded, walls beginning to twitch and convulse more, trying to milk every last drop. Alhaitham panted against your neck, sucking on the soft skin from time to time as he held your body close. 

“Mmm… Don’t mark up my neck. I brought all these pretty dresses to wear and now I can’t wear anything but turtle necks.” Your fingers tussled through his messy ash locks. It seems like you’ve returned from cloud nine.

“You can just wear them in the room.” He pressed another kiss to your neck. 

Before you could voice your complaints your husband buries your face into the crook of his neck, a silent invitation. Who were you to reject? The sensation of your teeth clamping down onto his smooth skin, leaving deep indentations seems to appease his primal urges noted by the low growl that rumbles in his chest. 

“Would you like to take a bath, habibti?” Gentle finger caressed your face. 

You hummed in confirmation, nuzzling into his touch more. The calm, sweet lull of intimacy washed over the room. Passion satisfied, for now at least. 

“You smell.” Dehya scrunched up her nose. 

You gave a deadpan stare at your Alpha friend beside you. You recently returned from your trip to Fontaine, meeting up with your friends to show them the gifts you had brought back. 

The weather wasn’t that hot today so you definitely weren’t sweating, and your outfit was also fresh from the clothesline. You even took a quick shower before you went to the agreed-upon cafe. You brought your arm up to your nose for a quick sniff, nothing smelled particularly off. 

“I smell normal.” You raised an eyebrow at her. 

“No, you smell like you just rolled around in the forest.” She retorted. 

Now you were confused, glancing at Candace and Nilou. Wait, why does it look like the two were trying to hold back their laughter? What is going on? You just wanted to give them their souvenirs. 

“What Dehya is trying to say is… it seems like you’ve gotten closer to your husband.” Candace rested her elbows on the table as she leaned in. 

Oh. They meant that. A scarlet flush instantly engulfed your cheeks, a silent admission of the truth. All at once you saw the gleam in your friends’ eyes, and they started hounding you for the details. 

The tea served at the cafe was always brewed to perfection and the leaves were of the highest quality. However, your friends were much more interested in the new development of your marriage. 

–

You were drained. You loved your friends, you really do. But spilling the tame details of the budding romance between you and your husband with burning cheeks sure depleted your battery. In a way, they deserved to know, supporting you for over five years throughout the murkier times. 

At the moment, you were curled up on the couch against your husband’s chest. Fingers fiddling with the ring that matched yours resting on his finger, as his attention was trained on the book in his other hand. It wasn’t time for your ritual quiet reading session, so you felt it was appropriate to quietly enjoy some skinship. Alhaitham didn’t seem to mind. 

“Haitham.” You began. 

“Mm?”

“What is your scent like?” You continued to fiddle with his wedding ring. 

“According to your friends, a tree.” His deep voice replied, never once looking up. 

“Mmm.” Your lips pressed into a line, still toying with the gold band. 

You had that look on your face, Alhaitham notes. Demons don’t disappear so easily, even at the start of a new chapter, they will continue to cling to your shadow. If he could, Alhaitham would strangle those devils with his own bare hands. But he couldn’t. So instead, he shall always be there to pull you out from the ice-cold water back to the warm shore. 

He flips the book over, placing it faced down on the arm of the couch. His full attention was now on you as he tenderly grasped your hand, pulling you closer. He pressed his nose against your neck, senses searching through the thick layer of opulent woodiness. 

The faint sweet hints of padisarah pudding mixed with the bath products and laundry detergent you shared were guarded by that layer. The scent that he recognizes as yours, the scent he shares with you. 

“I smell like you. That is the only scent I will recognize as mine.” His teal eyes peered up at you. 

You were silent for a moment, hand halting but still grasping the ring. 

“Pfft. Have you been reading my old novels again?” You couldn’t suppress the small laugh and smile. 

“Did you want me to?” 

“No.” 

You intertwined your fingers with his, rings clinking together, a physical show of a bond. 

Alhaitham rested his head in the crook of your neck, continuing to breathe in your essence. The scent of you always seems to lull him into a drowsy state of comfort. Yet, it wasn’t heavy nor did it cloud his thoughts, so he could always think clearly of you. Yes, this is the scent he adores. 

“Have you been doing something to make my Alpha and Omega coworkers avoid me?” 

“...” 

“What a weird Alpha you are.” You rubbed your cheek against your husband's resting face. 

You’ve been sluggish lately, Alhaitham observed. More often than not, he found himself carrying your sleeping frame back to bed after you fell asleep curled up on the sofa. Book in your limp hands. Your alarm would also be ringing longer than usual, you used to be able to turn it off by the first ring so as to not disturb him from his slumber. You knew he was a light sleeper. 

As he took a bite of the dinner you had just cooked he notes the blander taste. It was your usual style to throw in as many spices as you pleased. It was the start of flu season, and Alhaitham noted the cough that’s been going around in his office. However, he had a different hypothesis he wanted to share with you tonight. He watched as you chewed then shallowed. 

“Habibti, have you taken a pregnancy test lately?” His voice was calm, tone stable. 

Your fork clattered against your plate as you stared at him starstruck, eyes wide and mouth agape. This was why he waited, it wouldn’t be good to have food go down the wrong pipe. He maintained a neutral expression, staring into your eyes to read the emotions that were running rampant behind them. 

“N-no… but…” A furrow formed between your brow as you brought a hand up your mouth. A habit of yours when you were deep in thought. 

The two of you were careful. Pills are taken at specific times. Morning after teas were always in stock around the house, either he brews it for you right after a moment of passion or you would drink it in the morning. However, Alhaitham wasn’t startled. He understands that even with birth control there was always a risk. 

Dinner was swiftly finished, dishes piled in the sink for later, there were more pressing matters to attend to. You were currently in the bathroom with the pregnancy test he had picked up on his way home from work. Alhaitham was leaning his back on the wall beside the bathroom door. He was trying to calculate when you last had your time of the month, or when exactly you began to behave differently. 

The singing hinges of the bathroom door pulled him out of his thoughts. You had that look on your face again. Alhaitham didn’t even need to look at the test in your hands to know the results, two red lines. From how frozen your stance was in the door frame, he already knew what thoughts were running through your mind. 

Children were never planned nor discussed, at the beginning the two of you were much more focused on your careers and enjoying your free time. That is to say, you greatly enjoyed the double income and no kids life. However, there was now a fork in the road. The hands holding the test were now trembling. Alhaitham quickly brought you into a tender embrace, to silence the wild thoughts before they begin to torment you. 

“Whatever your decision may be, I will support it unconditionally. Take your time.” Rubbing a small circle into your back. 

You were silent but your arms wrapped around his torso, resting your head against his shoulder. Quiet reading time was a bit more quiet than usual tonight. 

–

It was now a Saturday night, Alhaitham had already situated himself on his spot on the couch. There was already a book in his hands, but he didn’t open it, he was waiting for you. You usually didn’t take this long in the shower, he was beginning to wonder if he should go knock on the door. But there was no need, soon the soft thumps of your steps were heard coming down the hall. 

Contrary to the usual, you make a b-line straight into his lap, curling up against his board frame. He didn’t say anything, supporting you with an arm and holding you closer. 

“I want to keep the baby.” You spoke softly against his neck. 

Alhaitham closed his eyes, mind going deep into thought. There was more than enough money saved up to support a child. Sumeru has free good quality health care, a great daycare program, and the best education system. The nation offers a generous tax deduction for families with children. There were enough rooms in the house that one could be turned into a nursery, it would be troublesome to have to babyproof everything and rearrange the furniture. 

Ah, the two of you will have to sacrifice your free time and sleep to take care of a needy newborn. However… He opened his eyes. 

“Then we should start making preparations for our new addition.” 

If it’s with you, Alhaitham is more than willing to sacrifice those luxuries and needs. 

Alhaitham had to be more observant, the changes to your body and hormones made it so you were much more sensitive to your surroundings. Foods that were too strong in scent had to be dialed back or not cooked in the house. He also took care to clear the floor of any stacks of books lest your foot knocks into them. 

The worst part of it was probably how the pregnancy was disrupting your sleep. Your body needs it, yet the growing bump and overactive hormones made it hard for you to find a position that welcomed the sweet embrace of sleep. Often tossing and turning, Alhaitham would  place a pillow under your belly which seemed to help a bit. 

Then came morning sickness, Alhaitham is adamant that your child be thankful for all the suffering you were enduring to give life to them. 

The ashen-haired Alpha had been extra careful with his inhibitors as well, making sure each dose was measured to the line and constantly checking the dates printed on the bottles. Still, the clawing of his instincts only grew stronger as his teal eyes observe your bump growing day by day. You were working so hard to carry the child, he needed to do something to make you relax and comfortable. 

–

Currently, your bed has been buried under a mountain of quilts and plush pillows. You had your hands on your hips as your eyes surveyed the messy state of the bed you had just made a few hours earlier. You folded and pack those quilts away weeks ago, why were they back out? 

“Haitham, why can’t I see our own bed?”

“There’s no cause for concern. Your body must be tired, go take a rest.” A gentle large hand rested on your lower back, encouraging you towards the heavenly pile. 

That sentiment from seven years ago still rings true to this day. Your husband is weird. Still, there was a small smile on your face, what a silly sweet weirdo he is. The soft wafts of fresh linen encapsulated your senses, layers upon layers of fabric cushioning your achy joints and growing belly. Gentle fingers combed their way through your hair, making your eyelids grow heavy. 

Were these inherited instincts or learned gestures from old light novels? Oh well, the answer is irrelevant. 

One Saturday afternoon you were rudely awakened by the maddening repetition of thumping. You were now well into your second trimester, the bump on your belly growing steadily day by day, which only meant your sleep schedule only got worse. All your senses have been going into overdrive lately, every bump in the night making your eyes snap open. You groggily rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, begrudgingly rousing your sluggish body from the haven of pillows and blankets. 

By this point, you and Alhaitham had announced to friends and family about your pregnancy, there were many tears of excitement shed that day. Followed by a steady stream of boxes and gifts placed into your or your husband's hands. These items ranged from teas to help with morning sickness to long loose maternity gowns. 

At first, you raised an eyebrow at the shapeless dresses your mother had gifted to you. Stating that they made you look like a lost ghost. However, now with your baby bump, the soft loose fabric felt divine against your sensitive skin. Carefully, pushing off the mattress you took your time gaining your balance. Moving has become troublesome because of your now shifted center of gravity.

Steadying yourself with a hand on the hallway wall you waddled toward the source of the commotion. As you grew closer to the room across the guest room, an extra space that was utilized as a small side library the barrage of noises stung your ears more. You felt irritation creeping up on you. 

Grasping your hand on the door frame you peered inside to see a head of blonde hair. Oh. It’s Kaveh. That explains the noise. 

You quietly observed the back of the unaware man as he continued to hammer furniture together. Your husband had told you earlier in the week that Kaveh would be coming over to help set up the nursery. He mentioned something about the blond having to pay off an old debt. 

Oh well, it saves you and Alhaitham the trouble of rearranging the furniture. 

“Ugh, that bastard has not changed a single bit. Who would choose such an ugly bassinet? His poor child will be welcomed into the world surrounded by ugly furniture.” 

Your lips pressed into a firm line. You had chosen the bassinet when out shopping with your husband. You bought it with your own money too. You thought it was quite cute… It’s cute, right? You waddled off to find your husband. 

“Alhaitham…” Tighnri stood just to the left of the glass door of the small cafe, your favorite cafe. 

Your husband was exiting the door, a small chime from the bell hanging above his head announcing his departure. A brown take-out bag, that contained the padisarah pudding you have been craving for the fourth time this week, clutched firmly in his hand. Alhaitham greeted his fellow colleague with a nod of acknowledgment. 

“I know your wife is pregnant. However, food should be in moderation. Especially sweets. You should know that during pregnancy the change in hormones makes it harder for the body to control its levels of-”

The ashen-haired man raised one hand, signaling for the other to halt their lecture. 

“I acknowledge your expertise and advice. However, time is precious and to save both of ours, I invite you to take this debate up with my wife. To warn you beforehand, you will lose.” 

Tighnari let out a huff of exasperation, steps heading in the direction of your shared home with Alhaitham. Surely you were more reasonable than your Alpha husband at the moment. Tighnari knew it was in their primal instincts to pamper their mates, caving into any demand no matter how unreasonable or troublesome. 

The head secretary has always been a rather level-headed individual in his eyes, sometimes to a fault, so it must just be his instincts influencing his actions. Tignari even heard from a certain blond that the ashen-haired man had given him the deadliest glare because the architect had critiqued your taste in home decor. 

“It’s normal for people to have cravings during their pregnancies, and for the most part, it’s harmless. However, there is a whole misconception about the saying ‘eating for two’. In truth, you only need about an extra glass of milk and an extra pita pocket a day. You are feeding a small-”

Alhaitham stared ahead at the path in front of him, doing his best to tune out the ramblings of the shorter man walking beside him. He had one purpose, and that was to deliver your padisarah pudding to you. 

–

Tighnari was now walking in the direction of his own home, spirit shaking a bit. Like always, Alhaitham’s prediction was flawless. He lost. The defiant blank gaze you gave him at the doorway of your house was enough to make the ebony-haired Alpha stop his clearly unsolicited advice. In the end, you got your pudding.

“That is all I have to report. Now that you have this knowledge, I trust that you will be able to decide if this proposition is fair or not. Here are the files for you to look through.” The ivory-haired Alpha placed the stack of papers on the smooth desk. 

“Understood. Thank you for the report, Cyno.” Alhaitham gathered the paperwork into his hands, beginning to skim through the contents. 

His teal-orange eyes soon left the crisp papers, peering at his colleague with an inquisitive glance. It wasn’t like the head lawyer to remain in his office after he finished delivering his information. 

“Is there any more you would like to discuss?” 

“Yes, I have prepared a gift for your child.” Cyno reached into his blazer pocket. 

Alhaitham hid his sigh. Your home was already littered with so many gifts and baby items, it was troublesome keeping the floors clear of any potential tripping hazards. You were now in your third trimester, slow steps more focused on your balance and the ache in your lower back than paying attention to the floor. 

Your husband wonders if he should have waited until he applied for maternity leave to tell his closest colleagues about your pregnancy. 

“Here.” Cyno handed him an engraved box.

Was this a TCG card case? Alhaitham’s unreadable eyes shifted between the case and the head lawyer’s eager eyes. Really, he should’ve expected this, he is already well aware of the tan Alpha’s obsession with the card game. 

“Thank you.” Your husband took the gift from the awaiting hand. 

“I custom-made the deck to be as beginner friendly as possible. Even still, these cards are staples in the game so this deck will be solid regardless of the changing meta. I made sure to have every card laminated as young children don’t know restraint. The box is also custom-made, it is made from solid wood but any sharp edges have been rounded out.”

“You didn’t have to go through so much unnecessary trouble.” Alhaitham wishes that Cyno didn’t. 

“Since most gifts have been either for your wife or for the child, I have prepared a gift for you as well.” Cyno reached into his inner coat pocket. 

This was unexpected. Your husband observed the tan man pull out a small journal. Stationary? You had already gifted Alhaitham a lifetime supply, but they were for only very important situations. So this could be a welcomed addition.

“I wrote down some of my best jokes for you to tell.” 

Nevermind. Alhaitham didn’t even want to reach for the small notebook. Cyno places it on top of the desk. 

“It’s unnecessary.” 

“It will help pass the time while entertaining your child. Your wife has been pregnant for a while now, it must feel like an maternity.” 

“...”

“Did you not get it? It’s because ‘maternity’ sounds like ‘eternity’ and-”

“I am very busy, head lawyer. Please excuse yourself from my office.”  

 Alhaitham was aware of the concept of ‘pregnancy glow’ from the anatomical journals he read some time ago. However, seeing it in person was much different from what the book had described. Another example of how learning purely from books is not enough. 

You were radiant, features softer and skin glowing. The aura around you has also been much gentler, likely attributed to your constant drowsiness and lack of stress from work as you were now on maternity leave. More often than not, Alhaitham finds it hard to keep his hands off of you.

 Resting an open hand on your round belly, feeling the subtle shifts of your child as he reads. Hugging you from behind as you cook, it’s to support the baby he reasons. He offers his chest as a pillow whenever sleep calls for you regardless if it was on the couch, you needed your rest.

However, there’s a caveat: others can’t seem to keep their hands off you either. 

“Oh! What a strong kick! I think they have real potential for dance.” Nilou exclaimed as she felt your belly. 

“Haha, what a meddlesome kid already. Kicking your poor mommy.” Dehya also had one hand resting a top. 

“It’s uncomfortable, yes, but it’s a good sign that they’re healthy and strong.” You let out a small sigh. 

“Here, have another pillow to support you” Candace placed the soft cushion behind your back, relieving some of the pressure. 

“Thank you, Candace. Even though I’m going to become a mother soon, it seems you’ll always be the mom of our group.” You giggled, giving your friends a wide smile. 

“Oh, you flatter me too much.” Candace chuckled, joining the rest in feeling your round bump. 

Alhaitham sat in your usual spot on the adjacent sofa, trying to read his book. However, his teal eyes couldn’t help but peer over at the hands that were plastered all over your belly. Although his gaze remained neutral, his lips were slightly pressed into a line. Their hands didn’t need to linger for that long he surmises. 

–

“Have a safe trip back!” You bid your friends goodbye, it was nice to have visitors when you couldn’t leave the house easily. 

Alhaitham closes the front door after their figures disappeared into the distance, offering his muscular arm to support you. You gladly accepted, as your feet and joints sang with relief as pressure was shifted off of them. Slowly strolling down the hall back to the living room. 

Alhaitham presses a soft kiss against your temple, a clever diversion from his true intentions. He couldn’t help the frown that formed on his lips or the scrunch of his nose. Your friends had drenched you in their scent, overpowering your subtle fragrance. Tsk, this is why others should keep their hands to themselves. 

“Let's take a shower. Of course, I’ll assist you.” 

“Mm? Haitham, it’s pretty early. We haven’t even had dinner.” 

“I’ll help you wash your hair as well.” 

“Haitham-”

“I’ll massage your shoulders and feet afterward.” 

“... Fine… remember to use the lotion as well.” 

“Of course.” 

There was no reason to be nervous even as your due date grew closer and closer. A room at the Bimarstan has already been reserved. He had already prepared a hospital bag with extra clothes, blankets, and toiletries. Alhaitham also packed some books in there was well. However, as you began to count down the days, it’s hard not to notice the anticipation in the air. You were very much ready to meet your child and to finally not be pregnant anymore. 

“Do you think the child will be more like you or me?” You turned to face your husband as he lay in bed. 

“It doesn’t matter. As long as they’re healthy.” Alhaitham tucks a quilt from the nest up to your chin. 

“Oh? I think that if our child looks like you but has my personality, they’d be quite popular.” You pondered out loud. 

“Mm.” Alhaitham pulls you closer to him from behind, resting his chin atop your head. 

“Then if they resemble you, it's best that they have my personality. Lest our peaceful lives will be disrupted by a constant stream of suitors at the door.” He entertains your musing. 

Your soft giggle jingles through the air as you stroked your belly, his hands soon join yours. A comfortable silence encapsulated the two of you, his soft caresses lulling your heavy lids closed. This was the sweet calm lull of normalcy, and you both were satisfied. 

Alhaitham had closed his eyes, only for them to snap open with the sudden jolt of your body. Did the baby kick again? They sure are disruptive, he can already feel the long sleepless nights to come. However, there were still a few days to stock up on as much rest as possible. 

“Haitham, I think my water broke.” 

Nevermind. 

–

 You were holding onto his hand with an iron-clad grip, crushing his fingers together. However, he knew this was barely scratching the surface of the discomfort you were currently experiencing. If he could, Alhaitham would bare all your pain himself. 

However, he couldn’t so he’ll sit beside you in the Bimarstan, brushing the hair out of your sweat-socked face and whispering sweet nothings to encourage your efforts. You’ve been in labor now for about four hours. Alhaitham has decided that the first thing your child learns to write will be a thank you letter addressed to you. 

You were trying to keep your breathing as stable as possible, practicing the technique the midwife taught you. Put the pain of the contractions always broke your streak, making you have to start from the beginning to try and steady your breath. The midwives and doctors were encouraging you to push as hard as you could. You already were, but you took a deep breath and then held onto it. Giving it your all. 

--

“WWAAHHHHH!” 

A loud, piercing, yet beautiful cry echoed off the walls. 

“It's a boy!” The doctors announced. 

--

“He’s got quite the set of lungs.” You giggled, tears still pooling at the corners of your eyes. Cradling your newborn. 

Alhaitham only let out a gentle hum, resting his head on your shoulder as he gazes at his son. Eyes as soft as the little one’s plump cheeks. It was quite a riveting experience, how can one fall in love with a little stranger so quickly? 

“No more full nights rest for us when we return home, huh.” You rested your head on top of his ashen hair, smiling as you continued to stare at your little bundle. 

Your husband lets out a soft mixture of a hum and a chuckle. He’s already prepared himself to sacrifice sleep in order to nurture this little bond created between the two of you. 

To your surprise and his great delight, your child sleeps through the nights well. A little too well. You had been released from the Bimarstan just a few days ago, the doctors all said your child was healthy. However, you couldn’t help but stare at him as if you were in a trance. 

“Come to bed, your body needs the rest to heal.” His warm touch grasped the sides of your shoulders, as Alhaitham pressed his face into your neck. Trying to lure you back. 

“Yes, I know but… just a little while longer.” You reached a hand up to tussle through his soft locks. 

Your eyes never stopped observing the small ups and downs of your little bundle of joy as he slept. Well, the face he made earlier when you had woken him up for his regular feedings sure wasn’t one of joy. He’s just like his father, grumpy when disturbed from the sweet embrace of sleep. But he needed to feed every three hours if he was to grow up healthily. 

“He’s quite a lot like you. A deep sleeper.”

“Oh? I think he’s quite like you, Haitham. You should’ve seen the mean mug he gave me.”

“I never scowl at you.”

“Yes, but you’re grumpy when woken up.”

“Hmph.” Your husband buries his face deeper into your nape. Teal eyes never breaking their gaze from the child you’ve gifted him. 

The air was quiet, yet warm and sweet. It was well past your preferred bedtime, but strangely not a single muscle felt tired as two pairs of eyes continued to study the small moments of his chest. 

“Should we head to bed now, Haitham?”

“Mm, perhaps a few more minutes wouldn’t make a drastic difference.” 

Fin~

#alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x y/n #al-haitham x you #alhaitham headcanons #alhaitham x you #alhaitham smut #alhaitham scenarios #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin x you #genshin omegaverse #genshin smut #alhaitham fluff #vivalabunbunfics #alhaitham fanfic #al haitham x you #alhaitham x yn #alhaitham imagines

[momolady]

Art the Orc

If you live in a small town, maybe you'll know this place. It's a little art store run by the same family for ages. It's not changed in all that time either. Picture it, feel it, you know it's the only place that sells that one supply you like. Now, imagine an orc behind the counter. Female Reader x Male Monster

The visage of the old place looked like it had once been a gas station. There was one of those big metal awnings and signs that gas pumps had once been outside. But everything else looked like the art supply store it was. The window was painted, done up with flowers and a flourishing font, but it hadn’t been touched in ages and was chipping and weathering away.

The old place had seen better days, you could tell. But you were excited to tackle such a special project with your own two hands.

Inside the place had a familiar smell of paint thinner, book pages, and coffee. You looked around the front as the bells on the door chimed. The old floor had seen better days and was worn out where you stood, even the welcome mat was hard to read.

“Welcome to Greengold Creative Station,” the deep voice came from behind the front desk where there was an open door. ‘I’ll be out with you in just a moment.”

“Take your time,” you replied. You continued to look around, noting the mismatched shelving and thrown together renovations dotting the place.

A moment later, a large orc came from the back. He was wearing thick glasses and had on a corded cardigan that covered a paint splattered t-shirt.

“Can I help you find anything?” He asked as he adjusted his glasses.

You approached the front desk again, extending your hand to him. “Hi! You must be Mr. Greengold, I’m from Regency Renovations.”

There was a surprised look upon his face as he shook your hand. “You’re the renovator?”

You smiled, half expecting some reservation based on your appearance. “I specialize in business and storefront renovations. That is what you wanted, correct, Mr. Greengold?”

He fumbled with his words for a moment, stuttering, touching his glasses until he spoke. “Call me Art, please.”

You held it in, but he knew where your mind went.

“It’s short for Arthur, but it's also my dad’s name so my mom calls me Art. Yes, I know, ha ha, very fun. A man named Art runs the art store.”

“It’s an easy target.” You tried to squash your giggling but a few came out.

He sighed and shook his head. “So, you’ll be handling the whole store. I want it updated completely. It was fine for my parents, but I need to bring in a new generation of artists and online shopping is destroying us.”

“It’s a common issue, Art,” you didn’t look at him as you said his name. “I already have some ideas brewing and I would be happy to discuss your thoughts for the business with you.”

He sighed heavily, gazing out at a store that was once his family’s legacy. “I would say I would like to keep some of what my parents did to this place, but I don’t think any of it is salvageable.”

“Well recycling is a thing.” You replied. “Like some of these old shelves, the wood can be reused to create a rustic facade for the front desk here.” You patted the worn out formica top. “And the vintage signage out from can be reused and framed, hung just right behind you there.”

Art made a face. “You can do all that.”

You returned his face, adding a smug smile to it. “I can do lots of things, Art. My father was a carpenter and my mother was a viper. Be careful of what you inflict about me.” You patted your chest proudly. You knew you were small and chubby, not many people expected much out of you, but your work spoke for itself. And that was how you told people off.

“Sorry,” he sighed. “I have a lot riding on this so-”

“So you hired the best. That I can promise you. Now I know you said you didn’t have a lot of funds, but I already have my plans made for how to help you with that. I plan on doing most of the work on my own, but for heavy lifting and other things-”

“I don’t mind helping with that,” he said with a shake of his head.

You had planned to bring in your brother for help, he enjoyed the destruction part of your job and he worked for free food. “Well uh…if you’d like Art, I wouldn’t say no.”

“I wouldn’t want you getting hurt on the job. It would be best if I helped out,” he said.

You couldn’t tell if he was being kind or underestimating you again, so you brushed it off and continued. “I would also like to film the process of the renovation. Stuff like that will help reach your new audience.”

He frowned, and his thick brows pinched together. “You must be joking.”

“I am not. You’d be surprised what the kids these days are watching.” You smirked up at him. “I know what I am doing, Art. Have some faith.”

His face read: easier said than done.

Discussion and planning was always the hard bit. You had to convince your employer of what needed to be done. Art was hesitant about some things, after all it was a family business and a place he had grown up in. But for the most part he was willing to go along with some of your ideas.

Art started the clean up process by first putting away his stock and setting most of the mismatched shelves outside. Once that was taken care of you began ripping up the old carpet and ancient linoleum.

“I remember when my dad put that stuff down,” Art said from behind you.

You looked up, eyes covered by goggles and mouth surrounded by one of those thick industrial masks. “Oh really?”

Art gave you a look. “Is all that necessary?”

“You’d be surprised.” You stacked another chunk of the linoleum to the side. “Lots of debris and who-knows-what is under these old floors. Decades of dirty shoes, dust, skin, and life are stored here.”

Art’s grimace deepened. “Skin?”

“Oh yeah, we shed like mad,” you laughed. “If you have dust in your house you can be assured it came from you!”

Art looked perturbed by this revelation but he continued in moving stock to the back and other store property outside.

Once the flooring was removed, you accessed what was underneath. It wasn’t marble or granite, but it was some type of stony tile that had existed when it was a gas station.

“Mom said it was inhospitable.”

You used a dust cloth to clean off a bit of the flooring. “But it’s easy to clean, and it’ll make the whole place appear brighter and bigger.” You turned and looked back at him, taking off the goggles. “It’ll be so much better in the long run. Plus! You won’t have to buy anything new except maybe a rug or two if you wanted.”

Art’s pinched brow was becoming the norm to see, but you could tell it was because the gears behind it were working so hard to process everything going on.

Once the tiles were cleaned and all the old flooring was hauled off to the dump, you started working on the walls, taking down slapdash shelving, and anything else hanging up. The old paint job, or jobs really, were layered on so thick and hadn’t been properly done. They had painted over the trim and electrical outlets, all of which needed to be replaced. The holes in the walls needed fixing too, and there were a few dents and scrapes from the years.

“You’re not hiring a painter?” Art asked one day.

You zipped up your coveralls and turned around to face him. “Not unless you want to shell out twice the money. Besides, I’m a good painter. A great painter even! Maybe not Rembrandt or anything, but I can handle a roller better than most.”

Art looked over your paint supplies. After days of you working on freeing the electric sockets and scraping the excess from the trim you could finally start working. You were painting the wall white, but you had found cheap sticker tiles to create a great accent wall, which could then be used for photo opportunities and special displays. Then another wall would also be painted white and used to display local artists and projects from the art class that Art taught.

“Mom always wanted to put wallpaper up,” Art murmured. “But said it wouldn’t be practical with everything we needed to hang up.”

There was a melancholy to Art’s face and tone as he said this. “What kind?” You asked as you poured your paint into the tray. “We could always find something close to what she had in mind for the office.”

Art glanced over his shoulder then shook his head. “I doubt I could afford it. I tried looking already.”

You put the roller into the paint, sliding it back and forth until it wasn’t too soupy. “Was this place your mom’s idea?”

“Yeah,” he murmured, his gaze going all about the store. “I can’t believe how empty it is now.”

“It’ll be full again in no time.” You gave him a reassuring smile when his amber eyes returned to you. “Do you have any pictures of your mother you would want to hang up?” you asked. “I can plan a special place for it.”

He huffed, seeming put off by this suggestion. “Excuse me. The smell of this paint is giving me a headache.” He walked off, stomping his feet a little as he went.

Art came back by the time you were finished with the first coat of white. You were sitting in front of the checkout desk, leaned back against it so your foot propped the door open. He stepped over your leg and looked at your work.

“The white really makes this place look…different,” he murmured.

“Don’t worry, there will be some color back soon enough,” you sighed. “Is your headache gone?”

Art nodded, leaning against the desk. “Sorry if I’ve been…obstinate.”

You waved it off. “I’m used to you.”

He shook his head. “No. I’ve been questioning and judging everything, all because I never really wanted to do this.”

You tilted your head up to look at him. “Then why are you?”

He let out that heavy, burdened sigh again. “Because it was in her will.”

You clicked your tongue. “Oh.”

“She left me money, but only if I used a portion of it to renovate the old store. She said it was mine after all, it deserved to reflect the new generation. Even in death she was still hinting I get married.” He scoffed at this, but he still had a smile on his face.

“Sounds pretty motherly.” You stood up from the ground, standing beside him. Not feeling much taller than you did sitting beside his great size. You motioned to the front window. “Did she paint that?”

Art laughed. “No. I did. That’s why she kept it so long.”

Your smile beamed. “Really? That’s pretty adorable.”

He shook his head and rolled his eyes. “For years upon years I’ve looked at that painting and wished every day she would wash it off and do something different. But I suppose her sentimentality was far too deep for that.”

“It’s a good painting,” you offered.

“I never thought she’d keep it so I barely tried,” he grunted and crossed his arms against his chest. “Boy, was I wrong.”

“Would you like to paint the new display? I was planning on just hanging a new sign and leaving the window clean.”

“I don’t know,” he muttered.

You patted his arm, and his eyes darted down to your hand, his brows unpinching for that one moment.

“I’ll wait till you decide then.” You stepped away from him, but his eyes still lingered on where you had touched him.

A few days later, as you were working on putting the sticker tile onto the wall, Art came from the back and offered you a ticket.

“A friend of mine has a gallery showing tonight. He gave me two tickets so I thought-” He hesitated and cleared his throat.

“How fancy is the affair?” You asked.

“Nothing too fancy. I mean, dress up, but not like black tie event or anything.” He cleared his throat again. “I was going to get dinner at my favorite restaurant since it was close by if you wanted to come.”

It clicked and you looked up at him. Your cheeks flushed and your mouth started to go dry. “Oh. Sure.” You tucked your hair behind your ear. “If that’s the case, maybe we should go in together. You know? Save the earth and stuff.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Smart idea. How about I pick you up tonight. Say…around six? Since the gallery is at eight?”

You nodded, biting down on your lip. “Yeah. Perfect. That should give me enough time to get ready after work.”

Art turned awkwardly away then back towards you. “Oh I uh, I guess I should get your address.” You traded info and the rest of the day went by in a jerky, tense sort of way.

That evening you waited in your living room until you heard from Art. You were wearing your favorite dress, and had even gotten your next door neighbor to do your makeup. You got his message and went downstairs to meet him at the front door.

Art was dressed nice in a dark purple suit and he had his long hair slicked back and tied into a bun. He didn’t have on his glasses, which surprised you. His eyes lit up when he saw you.

“Wow, you look great!” He said, a touch breathless.

You blushed and smiled. “Thanks. You look pretty great too. I’m not used to seeing you without your glasses.”

“Yeah, contacts tonight,” he said shyly. He then took your hand and led you to his car.

The restaurant was nice, the two of you had a clumsy start to it, but eventually you both started having an in depth conversation about color. From there, you both laughed and joked around, having a good time with great food and even better wine.

From there you walked to the gallery, meeting his friend then roaming through the show. Her artwork was lovely, but you noticed Art’s pinch brow had returned.

“A lot more nudes than I expected,” he whispered.

“I think it’s nice,” you replied. “I can see what her intent with the motif is. How it’s classic, it's natural, but also subversive.” You turned to Art, noticing him fidgeting and adjusting himself.

“Yes. I understand what she is doing,” he muttered. “I must have had just a little too much wine I think.”

You smiled at him, chuckling as your cheeks grew warm.

The car windows were fogged over, and in the dark all you could do was touch. His kisses felt rough but intimate. His tusks brushed against your skin, making your shiver. Every so often the darkness was halted by the motion light of the parking lot turning on. You’d still for a moment, then continue on with your youthful antics.

“We should stop.”

“We should.”

“Why aren’t we?”

“It’s hard.”

“Very hard.”

You kissed Art and breathed, looking into his eyes while you clasped your hands around his face. Maybe it was the wine or the nudes on display, maybe it was weeks of working so close and holding back so long.

“It’s hard.”

“Very hard.”

You smiled at him, kissing him again while his hands moved below. Your panties were pushed aside, his zipper brushed against your thigh. Big. Oh my god it was big!

You gasped softly and he stilled, watching your expression. You eased over him, taking as much of Art as you could stand. You pressed your palms to the roof of the car for balance, his strong hands kneaded into your thick thighs.

“Aren’t we a bit too old for this?” he breathed.

“I guess we’ll find out, won’t we.” Your laughter turned into moaning. Maybe you were both a bit too old for this, but you’d never had so much fun before! He pressed deeply inside you, and his hands couldn’t stop touching your body. He roamed over the soft curves, and plump form, his desire seeming to grow the more he did.

The next morning you came into work, seeing Art standing in the middle of the room. You held your breath, wondering if it was all a wonderful dream. He turned and smiled, his thick glasses back in place.

“Hi” he said breathlessly.

Your smile bloomed. “Hi.”

Art motioned to the desk. “I brought coffee.”

“I see that.” You smiled and took a cup he offered.

He sighed then laughed and you laughed. “So uh…last night.”

“I liked your friend’s gallery. It was very nice. I also liked your favorite restaurant.” You took a sip of the coffee, testing it before you added anything.

Art nodded, his gaze drifted until it fell back onto you. “Is that all?”

You smiled over your coffee cup. “No. Just barely.” You looked into his eyes. “I wasn’t sure if it was an appropriate work topic.”

“Not exactly but uhm…I just wanted to check.” His eyes darted over you. “Were we really too old for that?”

You laughed and cupped your hand over your mouth. “A little. But I’m not too sore. Are you?”

“No. But I would prefer somewhere much comfier next time.” he leaned in close and you closed your eyes, accepting his kiss and the touch of his tusks against your cheeks.

“Yes, it would be nice.” You saw he had paints and brushes set on the front desk. “What’s this for?”

He sucked in a breath through his teeth. “I thought I’d paint the window. I got a bit of inspiration last night.” He grinned your way. “Plus, I think mom would like to see how I’ve improved.”

You grinned. “I’ll be very excited to see how you work. Outside a car at least.”

#orc #orc romance #orc boyfriend #orc smut #orc x human #orc x reader #monster romance #monster smut #monster boyfriend #tertaophilia #exophilia #teratophilia writing #exophilia writing #monster fuqqer #monster lemon #reader x monster #human x monster #monster fucker #monster lover #momolady monsters #my writing #writing community #writblr #writer #monster writer

[lokischocolatefountain]

Seven

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader

Rating: Gen (kind of a crack fic if you ask me)

Summary: You and Javi discuss children

“How many?”

“Hmm?”

“You keep saying children plural. How many do you want?” You asked, flipping through the pages of the magazine idly. You weren’t even reading, just looking at pictures and reading a gossipy headline about some of the other actress.

“Hmmm seven?”

“Fuck no!”

“Why not?”

“Why not? WHY NOT?” You asked, horrified. “Javier, I’m a human being, not a baby making machine. You have a government job and I’m just a lab tech. We will never have 7 kids money unless you pocket some of the cocaine you seize. God, can you imagine if they all wanted to go to law school? Or medical school?”

“I wasn’t thinking that far ahead,” he said, taking the magazine from you and setting it aside. He pulled you into his lap, kissing you neck from behind and making you squirm. “I was focused on how hot you’ll look pregnant.”

“Of course you were. Horndog,” you scolded, pinching the arm that held you close. He hissed, but didn’t loosen his hold, only pulling you in closer.

“Can you blame me? With such a hot girlfriend, a man is bound to let his imagination run wild.”

“Shut up.”

“Five?” He asked, making you angrier.

“Are you trying to have a family or form a basketball team?”

He laughed before kissing her lips. “Four?” He bargained.

“Three is the absolute maximum for me.”

“Then three is good.”

“Yeah?” You asked, softer when you heard the sincerity in the reply that came with no hesitation.

“Mhmm.”

“But everything is up for debate after the first one,” you added, just in case. Pregnancy did not look fun and you didn’t want him holding you to this if you were too fucked up from the first pregnancy to try again. “I might hate being pregnant and never want to have another one again. We might have to be satisfied with one baby.”

“That’s good too, baby. I only want as many children as you’ll give me. Whether that’s one or three or seven.”

“Definitely not seven.” You smiled, adjusting yourself to sit back on the sofa with just your legs in his lap. “And no bargaining on gender either. If we have three daughters, you can’t ask for another one just to try for a son.”

“I would love three daughters. Why do you think I’ll ask you for a fourth one after that?”

“I don’t know,” you said, shrugging. “Men usually want sons. To teach them soccer or go fishing or whatever.”

“I’ll teach our three daughters soccer. Girls have legs. And I don’t care for fishing anyway. If they want to be with animals, they can take care of the ranch.”

“God, I planning my life out with a ranchero who wants a million kids!” You said, laughing.

“You’re just realizing that?”

“Oh god, I don’t know what’s worse— ranchero or DEA agent. Do you like chop wood shirtless or something? Cause I can’t handle that. I will end up having 7 kids if I saw that.”

“You’re mixing up rancheros with lumberjacks, baby. But I’ll learn to chop wood if you want. And I’ll teach our daughters to chop wood too. And how to shoot. And how to fix a car. Teach them plumbing and everything. So that they don’t have to call their boyfriends at midnight to ask them to fix their sink,” he said, making you giggle at the recollection of that night.

“Oh please, you weren’t complaining,” you scoffed, reminding him of the night he came over to fix your sink and ended up staying all night and all day in your bed.

“Exactly. No boy is slithering into my daughter’s bed like that. I won’t allow it.”

You scoffed. Oh you poor little fool… “You think my father didn’t teach me how to fix my sink, Javier? That I didn’t break it just to invite you over?”

“Fuck!”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck. Let’s have three sons.”

.

.

.

Advent Calendar Masterlist

Main Masterlist

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfic #narcos fic #narcos fanfiction #javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña x ofc #javier peña x y/n #javier pena x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x you #javier pena fic #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña fic #all that i've inflicted on the world

[lady-ashfade]

My Girl

Day 1 of celebration marathon

Dark!yan!luke castellan x reader.

-£ask: yandere luke castellan please !!!

-£ warnings: short, yandere slightly harming darling, dark yandere behavior, killing, blood, yandere being scary.

“Don’t go to far.”

everyday you heard those words from your boyfriend and every day you ended up back in his arms without trying. you had freedom, you had friends, you were safe and kept dry and warm. all thanks to him, without him you’d be alone and unhappy or dead, so could you blame him for staying so close to you? there was one thing the campers saw when they looked at you and that was his girl.

his arm stayed glued to your waist as soon as you left your cabin as he stayed behind or beside you like a guard dog. but did you really have freedom, is that what he called it? you were a bird kept in a cage that belonged to him. hanging out with your friends wasn’t enough for you to feel alone, knowing he was close and looking after you. he never truly let you be.

the face he put on to the public wasn’t the truth and behind closed doors you saw the ugly side of it when you acted out. the way he’d grabbed at your skin leaving bruises, him holding you close to him whenever you both walked around. you wanted him gone and you wanted the boy you met a long time ago to return but you had no luck.

“don’t cry,” his thumb stroked your cheeks while tears spilled from your pretty eyes. “no one will care about him,” you cried farther as you imagined the boy talking to you hours ago. the image of him bloody and looking at you with begging eyes as your boyfriend stood over him. the woods at night were dark and scary without any harpies in sight.

“but- you killed him.” you grieved the lose of the kid. this wasn’t the first time and you knew that, too many kids disappeared and each time luke changed the topic but you saw the proud look in his eyes.

“so you cared for him?” the soft touch on your cheeks left as he grabbed your jaw and forced your head up to look at him. your closed eyes opened as a pained whimper left your soft lips. “wasting your tears on someone who doesn’t deserve it,” he clicked his tongue.

you shook your head again and placed your hands on his chest knowing he liked the contact of your hands on him. you sniffed, “only care for you.” your voice so broken and shaky. his hold left and he leaned down to kiss your forehead while wrapped his arms around your waist to keep you close. the switch up in his mood was unsettling knowing one minute he’s nice and then next he could go on a killing spree.

“just crying because of the blood, aren’t you darling? such a little thing can’t handle anything,” he belittled you in the stupid voice of his. “that’s why I’m here. I’ll keep you safe and will always do so, and that boy was a pest in my side.” His voice got deeper and strained.

“Now what do you say?” his asked. his fingernails digs into your hip making you stand up straight and hold him closer, dispute wanting to get as far away from him as possible.

“Thank you..”

Taglist: @maria699669

#Percy Jackson x reader #yandere percy jackson x reader #yandere luke castellan #yandere luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x reader #yandere x reader

[fatallyfalling]

Secrets & Sugarcubes ~ ♆

“ Sugarcube ? “

{{ Finnick Odair x Reader }}

warnings: hurt/comfort, typical Hunger Games violence/trauma, mention/insinuation of forced prostitution, ptsd, soft reassurances, possible slight ooc?? Finnick fears physical touch, end is very fluffy with some slight cuddling, etc.

{{ word count }} 4.0 k

{{ Prompt }} The two of you had a game, a way of trading secrets when the world felt too big and a simple touch felt like a burn on Finnick’s skin. You always made sure to keep a tin of sugarcubes in your kitchen just in case.

{{ a/n }} I swear i know how to write happy things guys i promise akfkakkdka the next one will be tooth rottingly sweet i promise please bear with me >< ! I hope the length of this one makes up for it being a day late as well. This also might seem a bit ooc for Finnick? Not sure - but here is my full headcanon, I'd suggest reading it before this to better understand why Finnick is behaving the way he is as it's explained a bit more in-depth. Reader and Finnick are also rather affectionate with one another but there isn’t an established relationship yet between them. Please enjoy <3

Tip, Tap, Tip-Tip, Tap

Your door creaked under the coded knock, a beat of silence following before it was repeated on the old wood. Your nose scrunched in a perplexed manner, groggily padding down the stairs in your night clothes to your front door, a glimpse at the mahogany grandfather clock in the entryway tells you it’s well past midnight. Your confusion pooled into a sense of concern as cold fingers gripped the metal door handle and gave a firm tug. You knew the knock and who was behind the door as you started speaking before even meeting his gaze, the scent of almonds and honey tainted by a sickly layer of Capital roses filling your senses.

“What’s going on? It’s late. You should be asle-“

Your sentence was cut short as your gaze met a pair of bleary sea-green eyes. You knew the look too well as a frown settled on your lips, your shoulders sinking with your heart as you took in the male before you. “Oh, Finn..” You mutter as you open the door further to let him inside. He hesitates in the doorway, looking lost, but you give a flickering nod of encouragement, convincing him to cross the threshold.

“Come on, I’ll make some tea..”

Nodding towards the kitchen, he wordlessly treks after you. Finnick’s steel-colored dress shirt was well wrinkled, unbuttoned to his clavicle, and sleeves pushed past his elbows. His face didn’t look much better than his suit. His bronze waves were messy, brows sewn in with a tight jaw, and hunched shoulders added to an unsteady demeanor. You could only assume what had occurred earlier in the night while attending the latest Capital party before the famed “Capital’s Darling” appeared on your doorstep. The growing pit in your stomach churned at the thought, and a muscle fluttered in your jaw as you led the victor deeper into your home.

Settling into what sometimes felt like a nightly routine, you get to work on the tea. You also place a small tin on the counter before Finnick, his gaze dancing between your fingers and the tin as you do so. His hands were trembling.

“I think the sweater you left the other day is upstairs. I can get it if you’d like,” You offer while setting the kettle to simmer on the stove. Finnick shakes his head with a soft, tight-lipped hum. He was distracted, flicking his thumbs against the pads of his index fingers over and over again.

“I thought it might help to change...” You allow while stumbling over an apology. You round the counter in a retreat to hunt down the knit item. But you misjudge the distance. Your shoulder accidentally brushes his in a fleeting move that instantly causes recoil and a sharp inhale on Finnick’s part as if he’d been singed by a flame.

“Please,”

The word was strained in his throat as anguish flooded his tanned features. Your eyes widened at your misstep, immediately backtracking to provide more physical space between you. But your frown only deepens as you stare at one another for a fleeting moment before Finnick all but crumples in on himself, descending to the hardwood floor.

Heartbreak splinters through your chest like a knife, bringing yourself down with him as knees meet the polished wood with a thud. Taking further notice of his trembling, it spread up his arms and across his torso now, fists bunching the fabric of his sleeves. The victor wet his lips as his eyes screwed shut, visibly trying to push back whatever threatened to plague his mind.

“I'm so sorry Finnick. Hey, hey- it’s okay, it’s just me, I'm here. I’m sorry, you’re safe with me. You’re going to be okay,” Apologetic pleas pour out in whispers, your head tilting to see beneath the bronze waves blocking his eyes. “You’re safe here,"

He doesn’t respond, only wetting his lips again with a thick swallow that moves his throat up and down. Your lips press to a thin line as you scan around you for anything that might help break the darkness obscuring his senses. Your own thoughts swim with curses for your mistake before your vision finally connects with the small forgotten tin on the counter. Cautiously you rise to retrieve it, your movements are slow, ensuring your hands remain within view, and keeping a safe distance between Finnick and yourself. Once the cool metal touches your skin you wrap your fingers around it, returning to kneel before the distressed Darling on your floor.

“Hey, do you remember our game ?”

A small ‘click’ chirps out as you open the tin. Dozens of small white sugarcubes sparkle inside, gently shifting to let the tin rest between you two. Finnick’s eyes peek out in a squint, dragging his gaze down to the tin and then back up to fixate on your face. He gives a tiny nod to indicate he’s listening, the trembling doesn’t stop.

“Okay,” you manage a small, warm smile briefly as you dip your head to peer into the tin. Plucking four cubes out, simultaneously sweeping your calves out from under you for a more relaxed sitting position, you gently place two near his knee while keeping the other two in your hand.

“One for yes, two for no,”

Gesturing to show the two options, gaining another nod from the trembling victor. At least his attention is focused on the sugar now. Sometimes it took much longer to bring him back enough just to open his eyes.

This was what Finnick Odair hid behind showboating grins and that “Golden Boy” Capital mask. The poltergeists of sticky, unwanted Capital fingers and lips left dozens of invisible burns engraved on his skin. You’d caught the bronze-haired male regularly picking an invisible piece of lint off his shirt or whichever shiny garment the stylists forced him to wear. Soon enough you managed to decipher the minute gesture as a tell to when the discomfort the tanned male felt on his skin too often was starting to eat away at his thoughts.

Never quite free of the forces from previous nights.

It tore open your heart to see him like this. Thrown to the mutts of the Capital under President Snow’s threat of his loved ones being tortured or worse killed if he didn’t comply, there really was no escape from the taloned clutches of winning the annual Hunger Games.

Nobody escapes The Games, and nobody ever wins.

As much as you desperately wanted to whisk the 65th victor away from his position he wouldn’t let you even if you tried, claiming he couldn’t bear to see you come into harm's way and that he’d rather endure the torture just to keep you safe. The seeping guilt you felt was immeasurable.

“I’ll begin, you just answer with the sugar okay ?”

Another small nod earns a second weak smile tugging at the corners of your mouth to reassure him.

“Are you okay ?”

There’s a pause as Finnick thinks, eyelids squeeze shut again but soon open as a shaky hand gently moves the tiny pieces of sugar forward.

Two cubes, ‘no’

“Are you hurt outside ?”

Two cubes, ‘no’

“Are you hurt inside ?”

Another pause, and then he gently scoots one of the cubes backward.

One cube, ‘yes’

“Can you tell me what hurts inside ?”

Finnick hesitates, his brow twitches with a small crinkle of his nose. You wouldn’t pry if he wasn’t ready, you’re patience was strong and you’d spend all night passing sugar on the floor if it meant he could find peace of mind. “You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to,”

Finnick didn’t have many choices or say in life due to his position in the capital, so you found providing clear options to be rather grounding for the Bronze-haired male. It gave him a sense of stability and control over himself and what was occurring around him. Keeping the questions of your game simple and to the point in turn made his responses quick, a distraction technique you had picked up a while back to combat your own struggles post-games.

Two cubes, ‘no’

“That’s okay,” your small smile strengthens as you give him a tender look, not of pity but empathy. “Can I help?”

One cube, ‘yes’

“Please…”

The repeated word is barely above a whisper. If you hadn’t been hyper-fixated on him you might not have caught the parting of his lips that dripped the morsel of sound. His gaze has moved up from the floor to meet yours, wide sea-green irises soft in a pleading expression. You simply nod, assuring him you’re staying right where you are. The tension in his body visibly releases as the reassurances seem to sink in. Gingerly, he releases his biceps, picking at an invisible speck of dust on his sleeve. He drags a hand through his tousled hair before taking it down his face to rub his eyelids. He inhales a deep, shaky breath. You let him take his time to recuperate. Once his hand returns to his lap and he meets your eyesight you resume the verbal questionnaire.

“Do you want your sweater ?”

One cube, ‘yes’

“Okay, just a second,” you smile warmly, he nods, and you slowly stand, making your way upstairs, finding the ivory knit sweater on your bedroom dresser right where he’d left it. Turning around, you retrace your steps back to the kitchen, making sure to avoid the steps that creak louder than others on your way. “Here you go,”

Placing the sweater down as you return to sit with the Darling, he waits for your hands to leave the fabric before picking up the thick material and tugging it over his head. It takes a minute to adjust the layers and his sitting position so they’re comfortable but when he’s done the steel grey button-up collar peeks out from under the angled neckline of the ivory sweater along with the tails of the neutral fabric sticking out under the bottom hem. The ends of the sleeves are stretched around his fingers to mimic mittens. “Better ?” You offer while he takes a moment to breathe in the familiar scent. The smell of Capital roses is quickly suffocated in his familiar warm almond and honey cologne mixing with your scent clinging to the sweater. A sweet smile softens your cheeks as he allows a small lopsided smile with a nod and a hum, the corners of his mouth twitching up at the comfort.

“Very much so.”

“Good,” you nod, “Do you want the citrus tea you like so much? The one with the cinnamon?” Quirking a brow with a small tilt of your head.

“mhm,”

One cube, ‘yes’

“Very well,” you smile sweetly, rising again to move back into the kitchen. You gently open a cupboard, plucking a viridian mug off the shelf for the Darling along with your usual mug. A delicate clink echos in the otherwise quiet space as you set the ceramics on the counter. Finnick has turned to peek up and watch.

His sea-green eyes were still big and pleading, not really ready to stand but also not wanting to be away from you. With the counter cutting off just below his irises and his bronze hair tossed around and fluffy like that you couldn’t help being reminded of a small puppy. You mouth another reassurance with a wink as your cheeks warm, pulling open a drawer to pick up two small objects. They’re burnished silver spheres of metal, split in half but held by a tiny latch and speckled in countless minuscule holes for the nectar of the teas to slip through.

Reaching for two narrow jars on your counter you slide them towards your workspace and unstick each lid with an odd “pop”. Whisps of warm cinnamon, citrus, cloves, and black tea mix with the scent of herbs and spices more aligned with your tastes. The teas were a luxury gift from Mags on your birthday a year or two ago. You only use them on special occasions or nights like these.

You take a small spoon and gingerly press the correct amount of leaves in each steeper, adding a few extra to Finnick’s as he preferred a more prominent flavor. Afterward, you lower the metal orbs into their respective mug and quietly clean your workspace. Once the items are back in place you turn and just about jump out of your skin with a yelp of surprise as the tea kettle’s shrill whistle sings loud and clear.

Quickly you fumble for a cloth on a hook beside the wide farmhouse sink. Wrapping it around the heated handle of the kettle you remove it from the flames and onto an unused burner before shutting off the stove. Your heart pounds as adrenaline courses through your veins like lightning. A curse dances off your tongue but your embarrassment is short-lived as a coy chuckle fills your ears, wrapping around your senses like a soft blanket. A relieving warmth weaves its way through your ribs and melts the icy heartache as you hear Finnick laugh again. Turning towards the sound you spot the bronze-haired male now standing at the counter, his forearms leaning on the cool stone. His hands are barely trembling now although his eyes seem far away but his demeanor has seemed to regain its footing, a flickering of his naturally charismatic aura passes through his pointed-to-white teeth in the form of a lopsided smile. Color has started to ebb its way back into his tanned cheeks. That warmth in your ribcage spreads up your neck but you try to shove it back down. The components of your game; all four sugarcubes and the tin are sitting beside his elbow on the counter. You cross your arms over your chest loosely, narrowing your eyes at him in a playful manner.

“It’s not funny,”

“You’re right it’s hilarious,” Finnick drawls, his tone cocky.

An exasperated huff puffs out your chest followed by a sarcastic roll of our eyes. “There’s the Finnick Odair I know and Love,” You sigh, mischief flickers in those sea-green eyes. Carefully bringing the kettle over after it has a moment to cool you pour the boiling water as evenly as you can before returning it to the stove. A comforting quiet falls over the two of you while watching the liquid within the mugs change color. Eventually, your gaze shifts to watching Finnick slowly build a tiny pyramid out of the sugarcubes. The pristine wall of white crystals stands for all but ten seconds (not even) before the victor’s gentle tap sends it crumbling.

The joy from moments ago dissipates into something melancholic.

“Are you okay…?” You ask again, a crease forming between your brows as you search his sea-green eyes for any signs. Finnick gives you another tight-lipped hum, his smile has slipped away and you notice the set in his jaw returns. His gaze shifts from his folded hands to the sugar close by and hesitantly plucks up two of the four pieces.

Two cubes, ‘no’

“Still inside…?”

One cube, ‘yes’

“Still no touching?” Your voice is tender in a reassuring manner.

Two cubes, ‘yes’

Finnick understands that he’s safe. You’ll respect any boundary he chooses. You’re one of his few ‘safe’ individuals that he allows to fully trust besides Johanna, Mags, and Annie. Unfortunately, Annie was always rather emotionally distraught, meaning Finnick couldn’t be around her for long periods due to her tendency to claw at people during her episodes. It broke his heart to see the fire-haired victor he mentored through an awful arena be left so broken and afraid with limited ability to help her. But you did your best to pick up the slack in her care.

You were all damaged people just trying to survive the best you could with the hand you’d been dealt. No matter the cruelty of the dealer.

While caught up in your thoughts, the tea finished steeping. Gently, you slide the viridian mug of citrusy spices towards Finnick, who allows a small thanks and his “compliments to the chef” while plucking two sugarcubes from his fallen stack and dropping them into the burnt orange liquid.

“My pleasure,” you hum, fixing your tea how you like it and stirring the small steeper around the mug before lifting it from the drink and setting it off to the side. Finnick’s steeper soon follows. You’ll clean the sticky residue later.

Hot ceramic warms your fingertips as they curl around the mug, lifting it to your lips and parting them to give a gentle blow. Ripples of tea bounce around the rim, causing the curls of steam to dance around your cheeks. You inhale the Herbs deeply, and a calm feeling washes over your shoulders. The first sip immediately warms your insides as it goes down, observing the same reaction on Finnick as he takes a long swig of the tea followed by a hum of pleasure.

“Don’t burn your tongue it's still hot,” you murmur into your drink, the emitted sound coming out a bit warped. A ghost of a smile crosses the Darling’s face at your words, though he doesn’t reply, preferring another sip of the luxurious tea.

You already knew you wouldn’t hear the end of his dislike for the stinging on his tongue tomorrow from the burn.

You wish to reach out to him, brush your knuckles against his, or cup his stupidly handsome face in your hands, holding him close till all is better, but you can’t. You won’t. His safety and comfort is your priority right now, and you’ll always give him space when asked. You knew all too well what violation of space felt like.

“Are you feeling any better?”

You question the Darling while searching those sea-green eyes for any signs of pain.

Finnick offers a slight nod, casting a glance in your direction while adjusting the sugar.

One cube, ‘yes’

You nod in understanding. Even though the ache inside his chest still hurt you at least managed to help him start to move past it. The two of you stay at the counter for a long while. Secrets pass back and forth via sugarcube and Finnick has another cup of tea. You move in quiet tandem with one another as he preps the tea and you clean up your steeper and mug in the sink. Softly you hum a small rhyming tune from your childhood as you scrub along the inside of your mug, there’s a sense of domesticity in the air and you can’t help feeling more at ease.

Once everything is clean and put away except the sugarcubes you find yourself on your living room sofa, there’s a space between where your knees are tucked up against you and where Finnick sits. The tin of white crystals sits in that space, the Darling victor plucking up cubes every once in a while to suck on. He could eat all of them and you wouldn’t have minded.

The room is dimly lit, just the light from a lantern on the unused desk beside the fireplace. A soft glow is painted across Finnick’s features that makes his eyes sparkle and spread warmth up your cheeks, the tips of your ears surely going red. You try to suffocate the warmth as it threatens to bubble up past your grasp.

As time passes Finnick eventually speaks of what happened. You listen with full attention and offer much sympathy and reassurance once he’s finished. You thank the charming male for allowing himself to be open with you and he admits, “It’s easy to be an open book when it’s you,” and those sea-green irises seem to light up even more. That warmth twists your insides as your stomach does what feels like a backflip. “Thank you…for letting me in tonight,” he murmurs with that perfect smile, the outer corners of his eyes crinkle, and dimples press into his cheeks. The smile you return is equally as wide and sweet.

“Always. I’ll always be here Finn, and you’re welcome to stay here if you want tonight. There’s plenty of space,” You breathe through a slight laugh. The big house you were gifted in Victor’s Village was far too big to have just yourself anyway and this wouldn’t be the first time the Darling spent the night.

With a nod and a pat to the space between you, you nod towards the stairs before moving to snuff out the lantern. Finnick follows, closing the sugarcube tin and placing it on the coffee table. Quietly you two head upstairs, small giggles peppering the air as the stairs creak.

When you enter your bedroom you rummage in a drawer for a pair of sweats you had ‘borrowed’ from the Darling a while ago when it had been your turn to appear at his doorstep with tears in your eyes. “Here,” you speak gently while holding them out. A cheshire smirk creeps over Finnick’s face as he takes the pants.

“So that’s where these went~”

You shush him with a sarcastic wave of your hand, letting him go into the bathroom to change while you move to sit cross-legged on the plush mattress. You preferred sleeping with many soft blankets and pillows like your own nest. It helped you feel safe when alone - though most would end up kicked off or stolen by the furnace of a man you often shared the bed with. Your revenge usually came in the morning as your icy fingers assaulted the warmth of his lower back with a fit of laughter.

You smile tenderly at the thought as Finnick reappears.

“What?” He asks.

That coy smirk is still plastered on his lips as he comes over to sit beside you. “Hm? Oh - nothing. Lay down, I’m tired." You offer with a hum. He nods before joining you under the covers. You face one another, looking into each other's eyes. Slowly, you feel his hand creep over to yours and interlace your pinkie fingers.

“Is this okay?” Those heart-melting puppy dog eyes return. You can’t help the sweet smile on your face and the warmth on your cheeks.

“Always.”

{{ taglist }}

@justtrying2getby

#fanfic #fanfiction #finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #the hunger games #thg #x reader fanfic #fanfic writing #finnick imagine #finnick x reader #finnick x y/n #finnick x you #thg finnick #finnick fanfic #hunger games finnick #the hunger games trilogy #finnick odair oneshot #oneshot #thg fic #thg imagine #finnick odair imagine #finnick x oc #hurt/comfort #thg fanfiction #catching fire #the hunger games catching fire #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair angst #x reader fanfiction

[quack-quack-snacks]

Drowning Without You By My Side

My Navigation and Masterlist

My Sweet Home Masterlist

My Cha Hyun-su Masterlist

Pairing(s): Cha Hyun-su x Fem!Reader Summary: Ever since losing everything, you felt like you were drowning. Trying to end it all wasn't successful when an unknown and unnatural force was hell-bent on stopping you, but when a near-death experience - unintended this time - causes you to tempt Death's grasp, you finally meet the force keeping you bound to the world. Warnings: Season 2 spoilers (slightly)! Slight panic attack, drowning, explicit detail of attempted suicide on the reader's part (The National Suicide and Crisis Hotline is 988. There are so many people who care about you and would love to help you. You are not alone), cutting and bleeding (during the roll calls), Ah-yi being too cute for her own good, and Hyun-su being a fond little cinnamon roll and a great big brother (even if it's only for a scene), no use of (y/n). Word Count: 6,163

Pt 2: Floating Above Those Dark Skies :)

Hyun-su!

You woke up with a start, sweat slickening your skin and causing the slightly ripped t-shirt to stick to your back. It was designed with a band of which you'd never heard the likes of before the apocalypse started. Your breathing was quickened intensely and you wiped your hands over your face, pushing your palms into your eye sockets as you fruitlessly tried to calm your heart rate. It took several minutes of doing every method you knew to stop a panic attack before you were finally able to take a deep breath without it stuttering in your lungs. You swung your legs over the edge of the hammock you had designated as your bed since you first arrived at the stadium all those months ago. To know that you hadn’t seen the boy you once called home in over half a year was a hard pill to swallow. You hated yourself for letting him go.

Hated that you didn’t try harder to follow after him.

Hated that you let the group force you onto the truck with them and head to the safety camp.

It was a never-ending cycle of self-loathing since you’d arrived at the stadium. When you’d found the secret exit leading out of the stuffy concrete walls you were trapped in, you found yourself leaving whenever possible. You couldn't handle the pitiful stares of your fellow Green Home survivors and the eyes of the citizens in the stadium who disliked the woman that protected the “murderer” of the chief’s husband. Although Eun-yoo and you did not really have any sort of relationship in terms of friendship, you had an unspoken agreement to protect and stand up for each other. If not each other, you had no one. The people you each had viewed as the closest to you of anyone had gone missing or even passed on to the next life. You both refused to admit that last thought out loud, though. 

Every morning, you would wake up and attend the morning roll call before getting dressed and leaving for the day until you returned just in time for the evening roll call.

Today would be no different.

You dropped your bare feet onto the frigid concrete floor and walked towards the bathroom, suppressing a shiver. The entrance to the bathroom had been taken off after an incident inside of the stadium. It involved none other than yourself and the elder brother of one of the boys who bullied Yeong-su when the two of you got into a fight. You can remember the exact words he had spoken to you after you talked to him about the boy’s behavior.

“The little shit deserves it. Being the little brother of a murderer and the devil’s advocate,” he’d said, referring to Eun-yu and yourself. “I hope he ends up becoming a monster. I even hope I’ll be the one to have the honor of killing him.”

You remember punching him square in the nose as soon as the words left his mouth. He’d flown backward and slammed into the bathroom door, successfully knocking it off the hinges and breaking the flimsy wood in half. You were positively seething at the absolute audacity the man had. Not being satisfied with how he’d fallen, you jumped on top of him and started pounding your fist into his face. You hit him over and over again, undeterred by the few hits he managed to get in, until you were pulled off of him. You started thrashing around violently when you felt hands wrapping around you to pull you off of him until you realized it was Park Chan-young, the young soldier who had been an alibi and friend to you and the rest of the Green Home survivors since you’d first gotten on that truck. A small crowd had gathered around after hearing the commotion and yells coming from the two of you before they all parted to allow Chief Ji in. When she saw you, her confused stare deepened to a glare but she ignored you in favor of transporting the brother you had just fought to the medical room. That was a hell of a day.

The inside of the bathroom was a regular locker room. Not surprising considering it was originally used for the players of the baseball team. The only difference was one of the walls was poorly rebuilt with rocks and bricks by Chief Ji and some of the stadium's residents after it was impacted by the missiles. 

Before you had started heading over to the bathroom, you had grabbed your small compact bag of hygiene supplies and brought it with you. Although toothpaste was hard to come by and you had to share the rations the soldiers found with your neighbors, you were able to find some on one of your days out. You brushed your teeth dry, not wanting to use any of the limited water on something like brushing your teeth. This had become something you were used to. 

Finally returning to your sleeping space, you didn’t bother changing out of the clothes you slept in and just decided to continue wearing them. The outfit was comfortable yet simple: a pair of oversized off-white sweatpants you had to manually make a drawstring for using a shoestring, and a short-sleeved dark blue shirt. Your shoes were the same ones you wore the first day this monsterization started. They were originally a pristine white you had tried your hardest not to taint, but now they were stained beyond repair from your adventures. You consider yourself lucky you had only bought them a week before the outbreak. They held up well throughout the year you’d spent with them as your sole pair of shoes. 

The morning announcement calling for roll call sounded through the silent air of the little enclosed unit you were lucky enough to be given.

Although luck may not have been the true cause. So many people were reluctant to be near you when they slept and complained enough times to the chief that she eventually just set you apart from the rest. Although it was lonely at times, you were thankful for the shred of privacy you had been granted. 

Once your shoes had been put on along with your sweater, you calmly walked down the hall toward the place where your assigned group met for roll calls. You arrived just in time to see Yeong-su slap away Jin-ok’s hand when she tried to pull him back from a soldier who was grinning meanly at him. You could see the built-up tears in the boy’s eyes that he desperately was trying to push away and rushed forward. Seeing the reasoning behind his tears, despite the consequences that you knew would ensue, you roughly pushed against the soldier’s back which sent him tumbling forward and his face met the ground floor with a sickening sound. You risked a glance to look back at Yeong-su and Jin-ok. Yeong-su’s arm was bleeding rapidly, seeming obvious that the soldier who cut him too deeply hit an artery. Hopefully, it wasn't a major one. The boy’s lip was quivering as he held back his tears. You could see all the emotions in his eyes: anger, frustration, helplessness, but mainly relief. Relief from you coming in to defend him. You quickly sent a look to Jin-ok and she immediately knew what you meant. She gently took Yeong-su’s hand and this time he didn’t resist as she led them both away from the scene and to their living quarters. 

You barely had time to let out a relieved smile before a fist was sent flying into your left cheek, sending your head snapping to the right and you falling back, only barely and painfully catching yourself with your elbows. You looked up at your assailant to see the officer who was tormenting Yeong-su standing above you. His nose was bleeding heavily and if you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought he was beginning the transition period to a monster. He wiped at his nose to no avail and sent you a heavy glare. He leaned down and roughly grabbed your arm, hauling you to your feet and pulling out his knife. You held eye contact even when the blade roughly slashed across your forearm, right over an already existing cut. You praised yourself internally on how you kept your face entirely neutral and how the soldier looked angry and disappointed at your lack of reaction.

You gave him a slight smirk as you held up your bleeding arm for his view, the blood gushing down and covering your bruised elbow. “Happy?” You questioned tauntingly and your smirk grew as you saw the man seething. Despite his intimidating height, you couldn’t help but think he looked like a cartoon character with the way you were sure steam would be bursting out of his ears at any second. When he made no further move to continue the fight, you swiftly turned around and walked out of the room, smiling when you heard him yell in frustration and throw something to the floor. The knife, you presumed. 

You didn’t bother visiting the doctor to help you treat your wounds as you wrapped a strap of clothing around it and called it a day. Any respect you had for him instantly flew down the drain when you caught him drinking the rubbing alcohol meant for treating wounds and acting immaturely all the time. You walked in the direction of the exit, making sure to not be spotted by any soldiers as you did. When you finally got there and pushed the door open, you let out a breath of relief. The moment you stepped out the door and into the clean air of the outdoors, you felt yourself relax a little more than before. You found it odd how you felt more relaxed outside of the safe haven the stadium provided but you couldn’t help yourself. In the outdoors, you felt free. You could think without hindrance and allow yourself to feel an emotion that wasn't complete and utter despair.

The ground crunched below your feet as you walked across the gravel towards the green grass fields. You had no objective or destination in mind for today, you just wanted to escape the oppressive hands of your 'superiors.'

Walking on light feet, still making sure to keep your head focused on the area around you in case a monster appeared, you found yourself standing in front of a building. There was nothing special about this building. Half of it wasn't even attached as it lay broken in shambles around the structure. The ladder leading to the roof was rusted and had some of the metal bars sticking out awkwardly. The building in total was relatively normal and in good shape compared to those around it.

The only special thing about this building was the memories that it spurred within your head. 

You climbed up the ladder, tears blocking your vision as they collected on your waterline despite your deepest efforts. You lost everyone. You lost Hyun-su; the boy you called home; the boy you called your soulmate; the boy you loved more than anyone or anything else. You lost Ji-su, the girl you decided you could call your best friend after spending so much time with her on the first floor of Green Home for those days at the beginning of this mess. You even lost Su-yeong, the little girl you’d grown so protective over… gone without a second thought. You never truly had Eun-yu so it wouldn’t hurt as much whether or not she had died. The only person you truly felt you had left was Yeong-su. You hated yourself for doing this to him but only having him wasn’t enough to stay anymore. 

You felt like you were drowning. You were unable to handle the constant feeling of your emotions overpowering you. You’d heard so many times that it got easier as time went on but you never thought you would be able to overcome this. Although it might have been fitting to end your life by drowning, you just wanted a quick and painless death.

Falling solved that for you. 

When you finally climbed the ladder to the roof of the building, you couldn’t help the sobs that wracked your body. You hopped up onto the edge of the building and looked up. The sky seemed to perfectly oppose how you were feeling. Soft, puffy white clouds were fluttering through the atmosphere and forming different shapes you could just barely make out. The tears slipped down the side of your face as you tried to gain some sort of peace before you followed through with your decision. 

The wind was a gentle, cool breeze across your damp cheeks as you stood and glanced across the beautiful terrain below you. The grass had just barely begun to grow out of its perfect and well-maintained state, but it was still a wonderful sight to see. There were flower gardens surrounding the tall building, some crushed brutally by the falling of the walls but most were left perfectly untouched and thriving in the new world. The sight made your body calm down, the tears cascading waterfalls of sorrow down your cheeks slowly coming to a stop. You’ve heard of the acceptance of death people have when they know they’re about to die. You’d never thought you would have to face that kind of acceptance, never really thought the way you’d die would be because the world had been cruel and gave you too much pain for you to handle. You never thought that yet there you were.

There you were, standing on the edge of the tallest building you could find, one foot raised and hovering over the edge and you giving one last smile to the world before having your other foot join it. 

The wind screamed in your ears and you swear you could hear voices within it. Voices calling your name. Voices that sounded too similar to one you’d lost. You let your eyes fall shut as memories flashed through your mind. Memories of reading to Su-yeong and Yeong-su; memories of playing the guitar and singing with Ji-su, laughter interrupting each word because you couldn’t take yourselves seriously; memories of Hyun-su. 

Memories of shaking his hand when you first met him after he moved in across the hall from you in Green Home. 

Memories of him coming to you crying for the first time and confessing how he couldn’t stand being alive anymore.

Memories of losing yourself in his eyes when he smiled at you.

Memories of his touch against your cheeks when he leaned in to leave a kiss against your forehead.

Memories of him.

A single tear drop fell from your eye and you smiled at the thought of meeting him again, whether that be in your next life or the one that comes after death. There was no doubt in your mind that he was gone, and that thought alone was more than half of your reasons for wanting to end it all. 

Just as you were sure you were about to hit the bottom, a strong yet lean arm wrapped around your body and gently set you down on the ground before retreating just as quickly as it had appeared. You shot your eyes open only to be left with the blue sky above you and the intense wind that breezed over your body as whatever it was that saved you disappeared. For a few moments, you couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t move, couldn’t blink, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything except stare in perplexment at the sky. As you sat up, you still couldn’t think straight and allowed your body to work on autopilot as it walked you home. 

It took a full week until you were finally able to come to terms with the fact that either you had imagined the whole thing or something - someone - had saved you.

A month after your first attempt, you tried again. You couldn’t handle the stares of disdain and hatred towards you after you had defended Eun-yu as others criticized her about her apparent murder of Chief Ji’s husband. Yet, just like the last time, you were saved miraculously last minute by that same strange force. 

You tried a dozen more times, all ending with the same result. It was so frustrating and you could barely handle the pain knowing you couldn’t even control your death, let alone your life.

The tears streamed down your face violently as you knelt and smacked your fists angrily against the wet, coarse dirt of where you were, once again, gently placed down after another failed attempt to end your life. The shredded noose hung limp around your neck and you ripped it off aggressively. You let out an agonizing scream from the deepest part of your lungs and it ended with more sobs as you let yourself fall onto your side with your knees pulled into your chest. Your loud sobs slowly quieted down but the tears never stopped falling. You stood up from the wet ground, your hair and clothes both stained by the mud below. Water rained down from the heavens, soaking your shirt and making it cling to your chest. Your tears blurred with the raindrops that splashed against you and slowly made their way down your face, disappearing down your neck and into the collar of your shirt. 

“Why are you doing this?” You yelled into the open air, receiving no answer. “Why? Why do you keep doing this? Why won’t you just let me die?” You choked on a sob at that last question and yet you still received no answer. Defeated, you decided to retreat back to the stadium and get cleaned up. When you returned, Jin-ok was the first to notice the bruising around your neck and your tired, puffy eyes. When she asked, you played dumb but you could tell she saw right through you. Luckily, she left it alone. 

You ended up curled up in your hammock for hours as you sobbed your heart out. 

Although the stadium might have been a better place to follow through with your plan, you refused to put your few remaining friends - if you could even really call them that - through that. Put them through the pain of seeing your dead body and knowing they might have been able to stop it. Even though you would be dead by then, you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself. The only way you would allow yourself to follow through was outside of the stadium.

But a certain someone, or something, wouldn’t allow that to happen. 

That was the last time you tried to end your life.

You’d had many dangerous encounters since then but every time they would be cleared out by your guardian angel before you could even really call them a threat. It got to the point where you felt more safe outside the stadium compared to within its concrete walls.

Sighing, you averted your eyes from the building and walked around it, focusing instead on the plants that were just starting to bloom in the early spring. The breeze was a welcome chill that rose goosebumps along your arms. As you continued to walk, your mind blank and your feet destinationless as you wandered, you came across a large pool of water.

And a girl.

She was young, and couldn’t have been more than 5 years old. It was such a shock to see her there, especially all by herself, that you didn’t realize she was sinking until it was almost too late. Without a second of hesitation, you jumped right into the lake and swam as fast as you could towards her. Grabbing a hold of her hand, you pulled her along as you swam back up to the surface. You dragged her towards the edge of the earth where the stable ground met the water and laid her down. Lowering your head to her mouth, you tried to listen to her breathing but instead, you got a headbutt to the ear. She shot up and started coughing up water. You ignored how your ear stung at that moment and instead rubbed along her back while she breathed heavily. 

“Are you okay?” You asked her and she suddenly snapped her head towards you, like she didn’t recognize your presence until you spoke.

Slowly, she nodded. “Yes,” she hesitated before quietly asking, “Did you save me?”

You smiled at her shy mannerisms as she played with the hem of her wet and dirtied dress. “Yeah, I did.”

She looked up at you, almost surprised with your confession, and gave you a shy smile back. “Thank you,” she whispered before averting her eyes again.

You couldn’t stop the smile growing even brighter on your face at her adorableness. You looked around, seeing nobody else in sight. Your eyebrows furrowed as you began to worry about who she was and why nobody was taking care of her. “Are you alo-”

Just as you started to speak, a wet and slimy tentacle-like appendage wrapped itself around your torso and yanked you back into the lake. You thrashed around but couldn’t unravel yourself from the monster’s grip. You saw your knife float away and sink further down the dark abyss that was the bottom of the lake. With it, the last of your newfound hope to live followed. Just as you lost the last of the reserved air in your lungs, a sudden figure dove into the water and wrapped its arm around you. Just before your eyes fluttered shut, you swore you saw the blurry face of the same boy who haunted your dreams. The boy who haunted your nightmares.

The same boy who haunted your mind as you stuttered between the line separating life and death after surrendering to the lack of oxygen. 

“Hyun-su!”

You screamed as you saw the military take him away. You lay helplessly against the side of the crumbling Green Home building as the pain of moving around too much from your wounds caused you to be dead-weight in your spot. 

He let out a scream of agony that ended with your name and you felt your heart shatter. He was surrounded by multiple people; doctors, scientists, and soldiers alike. Each person’s face was surrounded by a strange darkness. The only thing you could make out of their faces were their evil, wide smiles, and their eyes tainted a demonic red. The sight made you feel even more helpless and despair-ridden than before.

You could do nothing but watch as the love of your life was taken from you without a second thought. 

Hyun-su gathered you in his human-form arm while the other, extended in his monstrous form, swung back and forth through the water to slice at the monstrous being that dared to harm you. He didn’t waste much more time under the water to fight the beast as he noticed your eyes had slipped shut and you weren’t releasing any more air bubbles. He surged upwards, his wing doing most of the work as he darted through the surface of the water and onto the solid ground near the same little girl you had saved before.

Lying you down on the ground gently, he lowered his head to your mouth to hear if you were breathing, cursing quietly when he realized you weren’t. It was at times like these that he thanked whatever deity existed that he allowed himself to be persuaded by his parents to be a lifeguard for a summer. That way, he learned and was certified in CPR. 

Plugging your nose, he administered two breaths into your mouth before pressing his - now both fully human - hands to your chest. Just as he prepared for the first chest compression, you suddenly started coughing and turned onto your side as you continued to cough up the water from your lungs. He was so thankful there wasn’t enough water in your lungs that he would’ve had to break your ribs giving you CPR. 

But he would choose broken ribs over a body that wasn’t breathing any day.

After coughing your lungs dry, you fell onto your back with your eyes closed as you took many deep breaths. Suddenly, you remembered the face you clearly remember saving you and shot up into a sitting position, your eyes wide and surprised. Your gaze immediately fell upon him.

Hyun-su.

You held your breath as your eyes met and you stared at each other for a few moments. Your hand hesitantly raised to reach out for him. His gaze didn’t stray from your own as you brought your hand to his face, a mix between a sigh and a sob leaving your throat as you felt the soft skin of his cheek touch your fingertips. He was wet and cold, but he was alive. A smile grew onto your face but it dropped just as Hyun-su’s began to form. You yanked your hand away as if his skin suddenly burned you, and it might as well have. You could see the hurt expression taking over his face but the feeling of the anger, betrayal, and grief flooding through your veins overpowered any feelings of remorse you might have felt. Taking a quick moment to look around for the child you saved, you let out a small sigh of relief when you saw her innocently watching the interaction between you and Hyun-su, breathing normally and sitting safe and sound on the grass.

“Take care of her for me, will you?” You asked him coldly, not waiting for an answer as you stood up and started speed walking in the opposite direction. 

“No, wa- wait!” He scrambled to stand up, calling after you as you ignored his advances. “Stop!” He finally caught up to you and wrapped his hand around your bicep gently, turning you around to face him. 

“What? What the fuck is so important that you finally feel the need to talk to me?” You let out a sob of a laugh as you ripped your arm away from him. You could slowly see the realization of why you were acting so angry and upset dawn on his face as guilt settled into his eyes. “You’ve gone this entire time being just fine as you save my life just to leave me there, alone, time and time again. So please - please - explain to me what is now so important you feel the need to reveal yourself to me.”

You looked at him expectantly as his mouth opened and closed, looking for an answer. He seemed to find it as he finally said, “I just… I really thought you died this time. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

You looked at him, frustrated, for a moment before harshly scrubbing your palms over your eyes which were tearing up against your will. “So… what, after all the times you saved me, now you want to check on my safety?” Taking a deep breath, you forced your face to look calm, masking your anger for his sake so you could get out of this situation with as little hindrance as possible. You dropped your hands to your sides, your tears smeared across your face leaving it in a shiny glow. “Well thank you, Hyun-su, for your consideration,” you spoke the last word with bitterness lacing your tone that you could tell he caught as he winced softly. “But I am fine.”

You turned around, fully intent on heading back to the stadium when his hand wrapped around your bicep again. “What?” You asked angrily and turned around only to be pulled into a tight hug. You didn’t waste time in fighting his grip but he was relentless. “Let me go!” You screamed at him, although it was muffled by his shirt. “You’re such an asshole! I fucking mourned for you! I built a fucking memorial and brought a flower every single week without fail and yet you were never fucking dead! Why did you keep letting me think you were dead?” You were now pounding your fists into his chest, no longer resisting his embrace but expressing the built-up anger, sadness, grief, and self-loathing you felt every single day. It all stemmed solely from the way you hated yourself for not trying harder to save him. Not trying harder to resist Eun-hyuk when he told you and Eun-yu he would bring him back. “Was it you? Was it you every time I was stopped? Every time I was in danger, it was you who saved me, wasn’t it? What gave you the fucking right?” The crying started again. In turn, your hits became less and less powerful with each strike along with your screams gradually quieting. “Why did you have to leave me?” You sobbed out and let your head fall onto his chest as he buried his face in your hair. Your hands clutched onto his t-shirt as if trying to anchor him to you, scared that if you let him go, he would disappear again. Your knees gave out, exhausted by the emotional turmoil washing over you from the last five minutes. And so soon after death caressed you on the cheek too. Hyun-su caught you and slowly lowered the two of you to the ground, never once breaking the embrace. 

You sat in silence, only broken by the sound of your sobs as they slowly subsided. When you settled down, you spoke once more. 

“Did you know I was in love with you?” You didn’t feel any physical reaction from him that would express what he was feeling in that moment so you continued. “I never stopped. Loving you, I mean. I don’t think I ever will, but god, I hate you so much right now.”

There were a few silent beats where the only sound you could hear was the sound of his heartbeat against your ear until he spoke. 

“I didn’t think I would be able to handle seeing you again and find you with this exact reaction. By the time I left the military’s grasp, I tried to find you but then I saw you on that ledge.”

It surprised you and calmed your nerves all the same. 

“I knew I was just being a coward but I thought too much time had passed for me to just show up. Today was just a bit different.” He leaned back a bit to look at you and you did the same. He gave a small smile when he saw you again, with your wet eyes and glistening cheeks you looked wonderful. Even after sobbing your heart out, you were still the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. “My love, I’ve loved you since the first moment I saw you, and I never stopped either,” he leaned in slowly so your foreheads rested against each other and your noses brushed. “And if you need time to stop hating me, I’ll wait as long as it takes.”

You looked into his radiating brown eyes as the last tear slipped from your own before bringing a hand up to cup his cheek once again. You let out a small laugh which he returned with an adoring smile. Leaning in, you pressed your lips against his in a soft, unhurried kiss. He slid a hand up from where it was pulling you into his embrace to rest against the back of your neck as he held you against him. When the both of you were smiling too much to continue the kiss, you leaned back just enough to stare into each other’s eyes. The adoration and love you had for each other would be clear for anyone to see from the way you gazed at each other.

You suddenly pushed forward and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close and hugging him once more. He sat still for a moment as he processed what you did only to wrap his arms around your waist. He hugged you just as tight and with just as much desperation as you did.

“God, I missed you so much,” you whispered into his ear and he sighed shakily into the spot where his face was buried in your neck. 

“I missed you too, so much. I’m so sorry for not coming back sooner.”

“Well, you’re here now, and that’s all that matters to me,” you reassured him and he physically relaxed, his shoulders untensing and him falling further into your embrace. 

The sound of the soft pattering of footsteps interrupted the moment you two were sharing. However, it was entirely welcome when you saw the little girl you had saved before standing beside you. You pulled away from Hyun-su, but not too far as he grabbed onto one of your hands. You smiled at him slightly, he was obviously just as starved of your touch as you were his.

“Hi there,” you told her gently when you turned back to her, not wanting to scare her in any way. “What’s your name?”

She looked down shyly, not answering until Hyun-su reached out to her with his hand. “It’s okay, she’s a good one,” he reassured her as he brushed some stray wet strands of her pin-straight black hair out of her face when her small hands were unable to. He took her hand and gently pulled her closer to the two of you. It made you smile as you saw them interact. The caring and soft way Hyun-su acted with her reminded you so much of a father interacting with his daughter.

It just made you love him even more.

He gave her one more nod of reassurance before she timidly introduced herself.

“M-my name is Ah-yi,” she stuttered out and you silently cooed at her adorable little shy smile. “Thank you for saving me, Miss.”

“Of course, Ah-yi, you are very welcome,” you gave her your own smile and some of her shyness seemed to fade away. You then gave her your name and she visibly brightened up. 

“You’re the princess!” You gave her a confused smile with a small laugh as she then began to explain. “Oppa’s told me stories about you! How you’re the princess of the big green castle and how he was a knight in shining armor who was saved by you, the warrior princess!” She talked animatedly with her hands swinging around wildly and her chest puffing out at the end to make her seem stronger. Your lips formed a big smile as you looked over at Hyun-su to see him lightly glaring at Ah-yi with a big blush coating his cheeks. 

“Ah, so you’ve told stories about me, have you?” You teased him and he looked at you before rolling his eyes. 

“Shut up,” he mumbled and you yelped as he yanked on your hand, sending you falling onto his chest with a loud laugh. 

You talked a bit more with Ah-yi, somehow ending with her laying her head in your lap as you leaned against Hyun-su with your back to his chest. The three of you watched the clouds, pointing out any shapes you could find and making up stories that Ah-yi seemed to love. Every time you looked over at Hyun-su, you could see all of his attention focused on you and how you interacted with the small child. 

Time seemed to fly as eventually, the sun started to fade into the distance, only leaving splotches of light shining through the leaves of the tall trees surrounding you. All three of you stood up and you glanced in the direction of the stadium with sad eyes. You couldn’t stand the thought of leaving Hyun-su yet. Even the thought of leaving the small girl you had grown strongly attached to in the past few hours broke your heart. Hyun-su seemed to sense your hesitation as he grabbed your hand. 

You looked back at him and he looked at you so fondly you felt like your heart might burst. With his thumb gently caressing your knuckles, he looked you in the eyes and said, “Stay. Stay with me. With us. You don’t have to go yet.”

He seemed just as desperate to make up for lost time with you as you were with him. His eyes widened and that smile you loved so dearly formed on his face when you nodded with little thought put into the decision. Pulling you closer with his arm circling your shoulders and one of yours circling his waist while the other hand reached out for Ah-yi to grab. She practically leaped at the opportunity.

“You ready, princess?” Hyun-su asked you in a soft teasing voice and you looked up at him with the same passionate smile gracing your lips. 

“Lead the way, my shining knight.”

~~~

Pt 2: Floating Above Those Dark Skies :)

#sweet home #sweet home hyun su #sweet home imagines #sweet home 2 #hyun su #hyun su would make such a good dad omg #cha hyun su #cha hyunsu #eun-yoo #lee eun yoo #eun-yu #lee eun-yu #sweet home x reader #cha hyun su x reader #hyun-su x reader #hyun soo #cha hyun soo #cha hyunsoo #cha hyunsoo x reader #cha hyun soo x reader

[ectologia]

I gently request a Dabi fic wherein he's been letting his little sister crash at his place and decides to pimp her out to Shiggy. Please, thank you, your writing is amazing ❤️ ❤️

BUSY EARNIN’

TOMURA SHIGARAKI + FEMALE READER + DABI

WARNING: DUBCON/NONCON, THEMES OF INCEST, SEX-BUYING, HUMILIATION, CREAMPIE, PROFANITY

The recital of your name ushers you downstairs. Your feet tip-toe down the rickety steps while you refrain from gliding your hand along the splintered wood of the bannister.

You bound along until you recognise your big brother, slouched against his patchwork sofa with his knees spread and a cigarette pinched between his fingers.

“Hey, you.” The subtle flick and curl of the ashen digits lulls you closer, close enough until you’re able to see the sizeable stacks of green bills piled up and snapped together with tight rubber bands lain across his coffee table.

You shift, curious as you notice the lean figure hunched next to Dabi, counting through another hand full of cash and muttering. He’s frantic as his fingers work on shuffling through the paper, his eyes are an unsettling blood red surrounded by rings of black and flaking skin, while his hair sits nestled beneath the shadow of his hood, only the stormy ice blue of his fringe peeking out.

“What’s all this?” You lilt, pointing a finger at the stacked paper.

Dabi all but hums, parting his lips as a whispy stream of smoke escapes the ruptured seam. “What you owe me.”

You draw back immediately, confused. “What?..”

He laughs, a deep, hoarse chuckle. Lowering the cigarette from his teeth to address you properly. “You heard me kid. You gotta earn your keep, you know? Ain’t shit free in life.”

You splutter, furrowing your brows. “B—but, wait, what do you mean I owe you that?” You gesture to the wads of cash sat waiting atop the wooden surface.

And just like that, the last few pages of money are slapped down onto the table. “That’s all of it, Dabi.” Shigaraki croaks, bobbing his foot up and down in anxious waiting.

Dabi shifts through the bank notes before giving a satisfied tut, settling back into the plush concave of his couch and taking another drag. “Thanks, Shigs. She’s all yours.”

You retreat backwards as his bent form extends into a looming shadow the moment he stands, taking a stride towards you.

“Wait! Dabi, what’s going on?” You squeal the moment your hands are seized, pulling and tugging until you’re bent against the wall at an angle.

He clicks his tongue, crossing an ankle over his leg. “I just told you. You’re paying me back, kid. Eatin’ my food, drinking my water. All that shit. You didn’t think you’d be crashing at my place on my dime, did you?” His chuckle is grim and dark as he pours over your hurt expression. “That’s cute. I’m a nice guy but I ain’t no saint, family’s still gotta’ pay their dues.”

You’re jolted about to Shigaraki’s liking until you’re positioned over the coffee table. A big hand pushes your cheek down into the hard surface while the other handles your hips, raising your ass up into the air. “Dabi! No, please stop! Tell him to stop!”

Your big brother winces at your shrill squeaks, squinting at the gritty nails clawing at your delicate flesh. He snaps his fingers, leaning forward. “Yo, Shiggy. Be careful, yeah? She’s still a virgin so she’s gonna be a lil’ skittish.”

He’s met with a harsh grunt, beady red eyes squinting up at him. “Shut the fuck up, makin’ my dick go soft with all your yappin’. I paid for her, so I’ll fuck her how I want, yeah?”

Your big brother huffs a sigh, sitting back against the cushions as he watches Shigaraki tear at your clothes. Your shirt is scrunched just above the meat of your tits as two hands reach down to tug and twist at your pebbled nipples. He tuts, palming at the doughy flesh. “Fuck, your sister’s kinda hot, man.”

Dabi hums in agreement, taking another puff of his cigarette as he rubs his hard-on through the rough denim of his jeans. “You should see her pussy.”

Shigaraki halts, lifting up to eye his friend. “You’ve seen your sister’s twat?” A broad smile curls onto both pairs of lips as they sneer at each-other. “You’re a freak.” He snickers.

The flimsy pair of panties concealing your pudgy mound are slid down past your ankles. Dabi scoffs as the skimpy garment is tossed at his face with a chuckle, the scent of your pussy encasing him for a split second. “A lil’ trinket for big brother Dabi.” Shigaraki grins.

“Please Dabi! I’ll pay you back! I don’t want him t—”

You’re cut off with a whine. “Awh, you don’t want me?” Shigaraki pouts, squeezing and jiggling your ass-cheeks. “That’s just hurt my feelings, babe. Looks like I’m gonna have to fuck you extra extra hard now.”

You gasp as Shigaraki spits a fat wad of saliva into your asshole, bringing two cold fingers down to smear and spread the sticky substance all the way across your slit. He dips the calloused pads into your folds, searching for the little bundle of nerves that has you twitching. The moment your hips flinch he’s cooing, rubbing harsh lines into your hooded clit. “Oh yeah, get that cunny nice and wet, hm?” Your mouth gapes and your jaw slackens, shuddering upon his abuse. “Yeah? You like me rubbing that clit? Getting your little pussy masturbated? Just like that?”

He chuckles at the small hand grasping his wrist, pleading for some type of relief. He retracts, wiping his soiled fingers into the back of your head before knotting them in between your mussed locks, tugging your neck back in a painful arch.

A flicker of hope ignites once you see your brother lean forward with a smile. You keen, reaching out for him. “Da—”

“Shh..” Before you can finish, a thick cloud of musky smoke cuts you off. He purses his lips into a snide grin as he blows the ash right into your spluttering, teary face.

The two laugh at your blushed cheeks and bloated lips as you cough, whimpering every time Shigaraki rubs at your swollen seed.

“I want you to look at him.” Your chin is held up by a pale hand, angling you to meet the bulging tent in your brother’s pants. “Look at your big brother while I rape you.”

At this you crack, breaking down into a plethora of blubbering cries. Shigaraki seems satisfied with your shell-like expression and takes the opportunity to stretch his fat mushroom-tip through the taught flesh of your pussyhole, sighing out a grunt as he does. “Fuck yeah.” He wastes no time in gathering the reins of your hair, jutting into you from behind with a broad smile. “Oh yeah, take—that—dick—baby—take it!” He punctuates every word with a thrust, pushing and pulling you along as he rides your ass.

Dabi can’t help but slip his vacant hand down the waistband of his boxers, fisting his fat, dribbling cock while he watches you get molested. It turns him the fuck on. He croons, hissing through the thin space of his teeth biting down on his cigarette. “Mm, look at you, getting used like a little piece of rape-meat. Should’ve done this ages ago lil’ sis.”

You’re practically foaming at the mouth, the only way you’re able to stay upright is by the massive hands groping at your titties. Shigaraki snarls and howls behind you like a beast, raping your pussy faster and faster with his sweaty uncut dick until a vision of black begins to seep past your field of view. A pierced brow quirks upwards as Dabi watches your eyes shift to a ghostly white.

Shigaraki growls, slowing his hips to exchange his frantic rutting into pounding your pussy with deep, lethargic, hurtful thrusts, knocking your hips painfully into the edge of the table. Your cries are smeared into the wood, your whole body rocking as your knee is lifted to spread you open further.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” Your ears twitch at the sound of Shigaraki’s voice. He hunches, slamming a fist down dangerously close to your head as he jutts his dick and balls into your slit at a rapid pace. “Fu—agh!”

The room drops to an eery silence as Shigaraki groans and shivers above you, swaying his hips side to side to ensure he’s pumped your battered womb full of his hot, creamy jizz.

The moment he retreats, your body is dragged along with him until your clenching pussy unhooks itself from his throbbing tip, ropes and ropes of sticky white cum following his retraction.

“Damn. That was good.” Shigaraki huffs, catching his breath while he stands proud and bare above you and Dabi, two hands bent on his hips while his flaccid member hangs lowly between his legs, bobbing and swinging.

“Glad I could help.” Dabi grins, slapping a wad of cash against his palm triumphantly.

#bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #dabi #bnha smut #dabi smut #touya todoroki smut #toya todoroki #toya todoroki x reader #touya todoroki x reader #touya todoroki #dabi x reader #shigaraki #tomura shigaraki #shigaraki tomura #todoroki touya #shigaraki smut #shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki tomura smut #tomura shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki smut

[leighsartworks216]

Hello!! I love your writing a lot and Im sorry if you've written something similar before but I just think a quieter Tav who would gently tug on Astarion's sleeve or shirt everytime they need help with a lock or a trap would be super cute. It would be super light and gentle tugs or taps to his shoulder, nothing forceful or hurtful. In exchange for his help they would let him have first pick of whatever is inside. Tav thinks he agreed to help because he gets a cut of the rewards, and that is true, but mostly because he's more fond of Tav than they know and he likes the way they smile and look at him when he helps - worth far more than the treasure inside any chest or room.

Thank you for sharing your writing! ❤️❤️❤️

This one feels super short to me but I still think it's pretty cute

Warnings: none

Word Count: 572

Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

Astarion couldn’t quite recall when it started. He remembers that you were cagey around him - around everyone, for that matter. Always so quiet, never speaking unless you absolutely had to. He’d tag along with you while you explored, and when you needed his lockpicking expertise, you’d call for him. Even if it was barely a whisper, his sensitive ears picked up on it and he came sauntering to your aid.

It evolved, rather quickly, he thinks. You stopped calling for him in favor of tapping against metal or knocking on wood, calling his attention to your location. It was especially effective over long distances, if you’d ended up wandering off.

And then it evolved further. This time it was mostly on his part. He decided once to stay nearby, search the rooms with you, looking for anything you may have looked over. But when you needed his help, you didn’t knock, you tapped on his shoulder. Admittedly, it startled him at first. Your footsteps were so quiet he didn’t hear you coming up behind him. Somehow, despite the efficiency of knocking, this was how you continued to get his attention.

You tugged on his sleeve, tapped on his arm - always gentle. That, too, formed its own little code. You tugged when there was a trap ahead, telling him without words to be careful. You would tap when you found a locked door or chest, or even just to get his opinion on something.

It was… endearing. The rest of the group would wander on ahead, exploring for themselves, and he stayed by your side the whole time. He wrote it off, of course, claiming he didn’t want you to strain your voice for his sake, but it became much more than that. And even though you always compensated him for his trouble (First dibs on treasure had earned him a few lucky finds, things that the others sure would have liked for themselves.), he found a greater treasure in your smile. In the way your eyes lit up at a particularly interesting discovery.

-

You tapped on his arm excitedly before you ran to a door. It was old and rusty, but not rusted enough to break through the lock keeping it in place. You tugged on the door handle and turned to him with such glee. He could hear your heart racing with anticipation.

“And what do you hope to find in there, darling?” he teased as he pulled out his lockpicks and got to work. He could see you shrug from the corner of your eyes. “Well, if all that’s in here is a skeleton, I’m afraid I’ll have to pass on claiming my reward.”

You nudged his shoulder playfully. He had a hard time keeping a smile off his face. With a few clicks and a very stubborn turn, the door unlocked. He stepped back before you could barrel him over.

The room was dark, with small reflections of light off metal catching your attention. It was probably gold or weapons or something worth the effort. But he couldn’t tear his eyes from you. Your child-like enthusiasm as you rushed inside to grab anything good, bright-eyed and smiling. If he could see his face, he’d see just how fond he looked at them - the gentle smile that came unbidden to his lips; the softness of his eyes, full of adoration and affection.

Yes, he thought, this was the best reward.

---

Tag List:

@satelliteapotheosis @hypopxia @flsalazar @beverlybeav @angelofthorr @emiemiemiii @marina-and-the-memes @lynnlovesloki @aurasyn @furblrwurblr

#request #requested #fanfic #fanfiction #astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate astarion #baldur's gate tav #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate tav #bg3 astarion #bg3 tav #gn reader #x gn reader #gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader #fluff

[milkzoro]

watch me fuck MY girl

-> t. law 🧊

SUMMARY: y/n likes to go live & flirt with her horny audience for money - but her bf hates it, so he decides to give her a lil scare (he’s insanely jealous)

WARNINGS: mdni, smut, camgirl!y/n, stalker!law, mask kink, fucking on live, dom!law, degrading, teasing, possessive!law, creampie, missionary, doggy

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

“‘you’re so pretty.’” you gleamed up at your destop camera as you read the comments flowing through your feed, making sure your silhouette showed all your right angles as you replied sweetly. your viewers were obsessed with the innocent little act you put on for them.

your stream was going great as always, meticulously showing off glimpses of your cleavage and speaking in a way that made your glossy lips pout — it was such easy money.

your night was was breezing by, effortless earning hundreds of tips just from entertaining lonleg men in the night. the sultry smiles never left your dolled up face, until something one of the comments made all the color from your face disappear.

anonymous6627: i have her address. watch my live in two hours

more and more comments flooded your feed, discarding the image of the previous comment. but you saw another one.

you knew it was probably nothing but the what if thoughts replayed in your mind.

the comments from the unnamed account kept coming.

anonymous6627: watch yourself y/n

…

anonymous6627: cuz i’m always watching you :)

…

you scoffed. ‘stupids internet trolls, bet you wouldn’t say that off anon.’

sometimes people’s comments got to you, but it was never that serious. you continued on nonetheless.

you said your goodbyes as you were finishing up your stream, growing tired from hours of entertaining and answering questions.

in the next two hours it was your time to destress, cleansing yourself from todays work. a nice hot shower and herbal remedies to put your mind at ease. you were in your more comfortable clothes and rested peacefully with a warm cup in hand in the confinements of your home.

but you heard a knock at the door , you shuffled over in your fuzzy slippers and peeped through the little hole in the wood, feeling safe enough to do so through your locked door. or so you thought.

there stood a man in a mask, hiding his face like a coward. he stood restlessly waiting for you to answer, but you never did.

he slammed against the wood harder, jiggling on the door handle when you didn’t answer the second time.

“open up y/n-ya!”

his voice released the tension that was holding tight on your heart. “shit!! law is that you?? you asshole!” you opened to door to meet his figure, smacking his chest and pulling off the black sack mask he wore to hide his face.

your hits didn’t even phase your tall boyfriend, he just laughed in your face.

“what babe? you scareddddd.” he pulled you inside your apartment.

“i just wanna show those chronically online losers what’s mine.”

what did he mean by that?

he took out him phone and propped it up high on one of your shelves to show the entirety of your bedroom, not quite pressing record yet. he ignored you when you questioned him.

“they were getting too bold in your comments, y/n ya~ ‘i’ll make you do backflips on it’?” he shook his head in disbelief. heat rose to your cheeks as he mocked the people in your comments, you couldn’t meet his eyes.

he laughed again.

“please, they’re speaking as if they could even satisfy my pretty girl~”

he grabbed hold of your chin to force you to look at him.

law knew how to make you squirm, he was embarrassing you on purpose, and he knew you liked it. the way he talked down on your poor choices and belittled you made the ache in your abdomen tremble.

he just wouldn’t let it go.

“such a fucking skank for entertaining those pathetic idiots… you like it don’t you?” his grip on your cheeks fell as he set up to press the little red ‘LIVE’ button.

“praises from touch-starved basement dwellers, want them to fuck you baby? think they could make you cum?”

he faced you with his back towards the camera, ripping back his mask from you and putting it on before turning to the lens and giving it a thumbs up.

“the truth is, you like the attention, huh? let’s just see how badly you want it.”

you pleaded. hoping he would reconsider but there was no sign he was going to change his mind. was this a punishment?

“law, baby wait—”

“nuh-uh, get on the bed y/n-ya… think i can let you talk to those guys like that? your actions have consequences my love, let’s give your fans a show, you’d like that huh?”

you fell to your bed aimlessly, his words coaxing you to follow each command. but really, you did want them to watch how well he fucked you, the idea made the knots in your abdomen tighter than they already were.

before you knew it he was on top of you and between your legs, pulling up your thighs and removing your pants for you. mind already dizzy from adjusting to his fast pace, it was happening too fast, you were whimpering for him.

so rough, and the mask, ugh it did something to you.

his fingers found your clit in seconds, playing with it just barely before slamming fully into you. you yelped.

“law! oh my god!—”

“fuck, that’s it. make noise for them, tell ‘em how good i fuck your tight little holes.”

he held you down as he jackhammered your tight cunt, the sensation of being stretched and then empty again made your head spin. the pleasure making you spew nonsense, the only thing law could understand was just mindless and filthy moans.

“you fuck me so good baby, please, ahh!— keep going!” your hips met his with each quick thrust, smacking sounds and muffled moans filled the speakers of everyone’s phones who was tuned into your stream. you had forgot that was even happening but it made you weak, having your fans watch you squirm from the touch of your crazy boyfriend. you were going to cum, hard.

hundreds, no, thousands of comments fled through the feed.

there were creeps begging for a closer angle and some were disgusted. in the moment, you couldn’t care less what people were saying, you just wanted to feed the hunger growing within your cunt.

law kept up his pace, his thick cock kissing deep in your warmth. “gonna cum for me baby? cream around my cock?”

“uh huh, ahh!— keep… g-going gonna cum-” your fingers clung to the clothes he wore on his back, bracing yourself for the deep contractions that were to come with your orgasm.

“fuck!—gonna fill you baby, make you mine, you’re mine.”

“yes! god, yes!! cum in me law! ‘mmm coming!

he pulled out, smirking under his mask as he did so, you cried out. “babyyyyyyyy p-please… was so close..”

“ass up.” he motioned to do so with his fist closed and his index finger pointing upward.

in his lust filled eyes, you were taking too long. his strong arms latched to both sides of your ass and forcefully flipped you over, pushing your face into the pillows of your messy bed.

“you look so pretty for me baby, gonna fuck you good. okay?” his fingers traced up your ass before plunging them into your sopping cunt. “law! auhhh!—” you whimpered into the pillow, falling apart at the touch of his hands. he swirled his digits around meticulously before taking them back out again.

the tip of his cock slid between your slick folds, coating it with your sweet juices. your walls hugged him perfectly as he filled you back up again. “ya- fuckkk… such a perfect pussy, princess. holdin me so fucking tight, fuck!”

he felt his own high approaching, pre cum spilled within you and his cock throbbed hard. he was at the crash, forcefully stuffing your achy cunt until he heard your cries.

“FUCK iM GONNA C-CUM!”

“wait for me y/n, i’m i’m right fuck. i’m rightt there. shhhiiiiit— ‘m coming baby.. s-scream my name for them.”

you forgot about the audience once again but it was so fucking hot seeing you man get off to fucking you in front of thousands, your fans… you screamed for him.

“laww!! so fucking good!” you fucked back on his hips as he had you bent over, smacking against him as your arousal consumed you—you creamed around his cock, white substance dripped from your stretched hole.

even more poured from your sopping cunt as your man came inside you, moans and whines fled his mouth, your sweet name and many profanities.

you laid there for a moment, completely fucked out, waiting for law to get the towel and run to turn off the camera. once it had stoped recording he came to your side and removed his mask, tenderly kissing your warm skin and cleansing any remaining liquid.

“round two? the cameras off baby.” he kept kissing you, his sweeter side coming through with the absence of the mask. he snickered.

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

pls leave a like comment & subscribe if u enjoyed >_<

#one piece x reader #one piece smut #trafalgar law #trafalgar law smut #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar one piece #law smut #trafalgar d law x reader #law of attraction #one piece #one piece scenario #i can’t stop thinking about it #op smut #op x reader #op

[lis-likes-fics]

At the End of the Day

Pairings: Tommy Shelby x wife!Reader Word Count: 4k words Kink: Cockwarming Warnings: NSFW, smut, arguing, unprotected sex, fingering, desk sex, creampie, swearing... A/N: Nothing much to say for this one. Hope you enjoy and thank you! <3

He’s stuck behind his desk. Again. He’s got his pen in hand and a multitude of papers sprawled out on his desk as he works and works and works.

He’s been like this all week, buried under paperwork as you handle the children and the maids and the rest of the family. When he isn’t behind his desk, he’s out on business with Polly or his brothers or at a social event with you for the same business as Polly and his brothers. You could properly count on two hands the number of minutes he’s spent with the children or with you collectively.

You miss him. The kids miss him. You hate that he has to work so much.

“Tommy,” you whisper from the doorway of his office, knocking on the heavy door quietly as you look at him.

He hums deeply but doesn’t look up. Stuck in his work, he takes a drink from his glass and keeps his pen moving. His cigarette is still smoking in the ashtray set to the side, not quite finished yet. You sigh, saying his name again. Not so sweetly this time. “Thomas.”

He sighs and looks up, but his pen is still set firmly between his fingers. “Yes, dear?” he responds. He’s exhausted, you can tell, but he’s good at pretending he isn’t. You’re just better at knowing that he is. You stay by the door, looking at him as your eyes dart down to his pen. He looks down at it and sighs.

Tommy sets down his pen, a peace offering. He gestures toward you. “Come. Come in.”

You step forward, taking your time in coming into his office as you close the door gently behind you. You approach his desk, and he watches you walk toward him and come to a stop. You lean on the dark wood, your fingers pressing into it as you look at him.

“The children miss you,” you speak gently.

He hums, picking up his pen again. “I’ll tuck them in tonight.”

“Too late. They’re already in bed.” You sigh when he begins writing, rolling your eyes.

“Well,” he mutters, “that’s that, isn’t it?”

You clench your jaw, your eyes fluttering at the audacity of his words. You hum, watching as he writes, the sound of pen scratching paper filling the room as he gets back to work. He hadn’t even lasted a minute. You should know, you counted. He made it thirty-eight seconds between putting down his pen and letting it touch his hand once more.

“When I tucked in August tonight–” you snatch the pen forcefully out of his hand, ignoring the way he sighs as you slap it down onto the desk and look at him. It takes him a moment to look you in the eyes so you would continue, “–he asked if he’d done something wrong. He asked me if Daddy still loves him and his sister.”

In his eyes, you can see the regret beginning to blossom there. But as quickly as it comes, he’s masked once again in exhaustion and duty. “I–”

“I’m not finished,” you interrupt. He glances away but immediately looks back at you, knowing you won’t speak unless he’s looking in your eyes. “Delia wants to know why Daddy doesn’t brush her hair after she wakes up anymore. She said she’s scared that you got tired of her.”

That hurts him even more. His jaw twitches as he processes. “My–”

“I am still not finished.”

He sighs. With a shrug, he says, “We’ve only got two children.”

You close your eyes, clenching your jaw once more to show your frustration. He doesn’t speak again, allowing you the floor. “And you’ve got one wife who wants to know why you’re letting business come before family. Family above all else, that’s what it is. That’s what the whole fucking family is about, Tommy.”

He waits a moment to know if you’ll speak again, not wanting to interrupt you and feed your anger. He speaks slowly, “I’ll take the children into town tomorrow. We’ll spend time together.”

“And then you’ll go back to work.”

“I work for them, for you,” he says, his voice raising a bit. “I do all of this to keep you all safe and happy.”

You sigh, chuckling lightly as you shake your head. “Tommy, the kids are happier when they get to see their father. Spending time with them for a single day and disappearing for another month isn’t going to make them fucking happy!”

He doesn’t want to fight with you. He understands what you’re saying, and he’s frustrated that his efforts are not being understood, but he doesn’t want to fight. He looks at you, and he can see that you’re just as tired as him. He sighs, backing down before you both end up in a screaming match. Screaming at each other won’t fix anything.

He rubs his eyes and picks up his glass, taking a sip from it and setting it down gently in hopes of easing his nerves. He looks at you, staying quiet for a long time. You take his silence for what it is, a moment to breathe. So you take a breath and lift your hand, removing the crushing weight of your palm from his pen. He doesn’t look at it.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly. “I’ll spend more time with the kids. They shouldn’t be missing their father.”

You sigh, looking around the room in an effort to level your voice. “It’s not just them who’s missing you, Tom.” You look back at him. “We don’t even sleep in the same room anymore. You’re always down here on this fucking couch or back in Small Heath on ‘business’. I can’t remember the last time you held me, the last time you touched me.”

He sighs. You watch his shoulders fall. “Come here,” he bids softly.

You shake your head, removing your hands from his desk and taking a step back. “No.”

“Come here,” he says again, not as softly.

You blink away from him, a heavy sigh leaving you as you make yourself move. You walk toward him, rounding the desk to his side. He reaches a hand out to your side. You begin to jerk away from him, but he’s not having it. He pulls you in, both hands on your hips as he turns his chair to face you.

Tommy looks up at you, resting his chin on your belly as his thumbs caress your sides. It feels good. Really good, you almost melt into his touch. But you don’t want to give him the satisfaction as you place your hands over his and pretend like you’re trying to push him away. He’s unconvinced, but he plays along.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. Two sorries in one night…you must have won the lottery. “I know you don’t want to hear me say it…but I have a little more work to finish tonight–” you go to push him off with a scoff, but he holds you tightly and raises his voice a bit above your frustration, “–and then I will tend to your needs. I promise you.”

“Tommy–”

“I promise,” he insists.

You look at him, wanting to be angry but finding yourself helpless at the sight of his normally cold eyes staring up at you with more warmth than anyone else—besides his children—would ever receive. You sigh heavily, rubbing your temples and refusing to look at him as you speak. “Fine.”

He actually smiles, breathing a gentle laugh. “As a matter of fact,” one of his hands slides down your side and ducks underneath your nightgown, “I can do two things at once.”

He pushes your panties to the side with his fingers and presses his thumb to your clit. Your hips jerk away from him at the sudden touch and you speak, annoyed that your voice comes out as a whisper. “Tommy.”

“Shh,” he kisses your belly over your gown. “Let me take care of you.”

He slides his fingers over your folds, swiping back and forth along the length of them before slipping between them. Your eyes flutter at the feeling, leaning into his touch a little more as his thumb continues to tease you. You set your hands on his shoulders, holding yourself steady as he watches you react to him.

You moan slightly when his finger pushes inside of you, parting your lips to delve deeper. He works it into you as the arousal begins to seep. “Good girl,” he bids, feeling you begin to slick up for him, just enough for him to add a second finger inside you. You grip his shoulders a little tighter.

He pumps them slowly, massaging inside you as you begin to move your hips to the rhythm. You’re becoming faster than you would have liked, enjoying his touch too much after being without it for too long. “Tommy,” you whisper, a little whinier now that he’s got you worked up. He can see your nipples poking through your gown now.

“Just like that, come on,” he whispers. “Get nice and wet for me.”

His voice washes over you like velvet. You find yourself succumbing to him. You lean against him, into his touch, accepting his truce. His thumb massages your clit some more, making sure you’re nice and ready for him as he feels his cock stiffening in his pants.

After a moment, he pulls his fingers out of you. You grunt, your frustration returning at the loss of stimulation. You open your eyes and look at him again. You huff. “If you want me calm, this isn’t the way to do it.”

He chuckles, reaching a hand toward his belt as he begins to undo it. He just tells you to hush (in a kinder way) and pulls his cock out as he fixes his seat. You consider for a moment before relenting. You bring one leg over him, hovering over his lap in a straddle. You watch him as you grab his cock and line it up with your pussy, slowly sinking down on him and closing your eyes at the pleasant stretch. You moan gently. He breathes a little heavier, his hands on your waist tightening as you take him deeper and deeper.

When you’re sitting in his lap, you both let out a relieved sigh as you rest your forehead on his shoulder. You stifle a moan and begin to grind your hips, but he quickly stops you with his hands gripping your waist. You huff, but it comes out as a whine. “What?”

“I still have to work, darling.” “You can work later,” you argue.

He chuckles breathily. “Yes, but I’ll be able to pay more attention to you if this gets done first.” He raises his hands to your face, brushing his thumbs over your cheeks. “You’ve just got to sit there and be still. I’ll take good care of you.”

You try not to pout. It would be too bratty, and you need him to take you seriously. But you do pout, and he does think you’re bratty, and he takes you seriously anyway. “How long is this going to take?”

He glances at the papers on his desk and considers for a moment. “Ten minutes.”

You roll your eyes and groan. “Hurry up.”

He kisses your jaw and retrieves his pen, tapping your bottom and telling you to be a good girl while he works. You sit and wait, keeping yourself still with more trouble than you think it's worth as the stagnant stretch of his cock feeds your hunger and refuses to quench it.

He braces his hand on your back as he works. You rest your head in the crook of his shoulder, your fingers tangling in the hair at the base of his neck.

When you grind your hips absent-mindedly, searching for some friction, he lightly smacks you with a low grunt. “Stop moving.” You hum lightly, refusing to apologize but choosing to listen.

He's so warm, and he fills you so well. The urge to roll your hips once more fills your thighs, but you remain as still as you can, little moans and whimpers in his ear acting as your only act of defiance. He was thick, sitting so deep inside you as you clenched to feel him pulse.

It's been too long. You don't know how much time has passed, but you're reaching your limit as your desire for him after being neglected for too long grew to unthinkable depths. He's right here. You might as well take what you can.

“How long has it been?” you complain, pulling away to look at his face.

He doesn't look at you, but you can see the slight turn of the corner of his lips as he replies. “Nearly finished.”

“How much is nearly?” you question, raising a brow at him.

He turns his eyes on you. “Nearly.”

But you're sick of waiting. You need something, anything, right here and now before you keel over dead. You roll your eyes, “That's enough for me.”

You roll your hips atop his lap, moaning deeply in your throat at the pleasure that blossoms at the feeling. He grunts, holding your hip tighter and gripping the pen as though it were a lifeline.

“Love, I–”

Your words lift from a moan as you shake your head. “No,” you take his pen once more and toss it across the room, “I'm more important than whatever it is you're working on. Otherwise you would have sent me away the moment you could.” You take his face in your hands and pull him close to yours, your lips just barely touching, your voice low and frustrated. “It's my turn.”

He stares at you, awaiting your next move in silence. But you don't move, against your greater impulses, you sit still and stare back.

His lips crash against yours, a bruising kiss that begs your attention just as much as yours begs his. You moan into his mouth as his hands tighten around your hip and hold the base of your head.

He grunts into you, enjoying the taste of your lips as he guides your hips, grinding you down on top of him as he devours you.

The pleasure is quick to overtake you, sinking into every limb and flicking at every nerve. You're dripping onto his lap as you lift yourself up on shaky legs. The puddle of slick you've created just from sitting there for who-knows-how-long would be embarrassing if you hadn't been in this position so many times, being filled up by Tommy's cock.

You lift yourself until the tip of him is embedded inside you, the flex of your thighs making you tighter as you do. When you drop back down it forces rough moans from both of you as you grip onto one another for dear life.

You do it again, setting a rhythm as the electric feeling of the thrusts spreads through you. The sound of your thighs smacking into his lap fills the room with the steady pace, creating a sinful beat for your love to keep time with.

And the bliss of finally being tended to is good, but it isn't enough. You need more.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and bury your face in his neck, moaning meekly and rolling your hips. “Tommy,” you whimper, your voice a gentle plea, a helpless whisper, an innocent manipulation. “Tommy, I need you.”

He tries not to shudder at the way you sound, pleading in his ear. He holds you tighter.

“What do you need, darling?” His voice is rough and full of breath, eager to smell your perfume and taste the liquor on your lips.

“More,” you hum, followed by another whimper only half-real as you grind yourself once more. “I need more.”

He knows what you're doing. He knows all your tricks, all the little ways you get him to do exactly what you want. He knows the voice you use, the breaths you take, the way your eyes focus on him, the way you hold him just a little differently. He knows everything.

But at the end of the day, he is just a man who loves his wife. A man who would do anything to see her happy.

He strokes a hand down the back of your hair, his parted lips passing shallow breaths. Nevertheless, he pulls you from his shoulder. “I'm not giving you anything until you say ‘please’.”

You lick your bottom lip between your teeth, stifling a moan as you decide whether or not you'll obey. But you do. With your palms at the sides of his neck, you speak. “Please, Tommy,” you beg softly. “Please give me more.”

He considers you, stalling just to make you squirm before picking you up and putting you on the desk, ignoring the pages and pages he lays you on. They're mostly done. He'll finish them eventually and let them go to whoever it needs to go to, still smelling of sex and the perfume you wear if it must. He doesn't care, he just needs you.

He holds you by the back of your legs, kissing the side of your knee as he stares at you the whole time. You watch him fondly, your breath shallow in your chest. He slips his hands down your thighs to hold your hips, lining himself back up with you and sinking inside once again.

Your eyes close and you purse your lips, a moan slipping through at the feeling. He presses himself inside you, rubbing against that deep part of you that makes your eyes roll. “Mm, Tommy.”

He sighs deeply, pulling out and pushes back in to set a steady pace. He starts with long, slow strokes that eventually build into a slew of quick, rough thrusts. You moan as you lay your head back against the desk, closing your eyes and trying to stay quiet as you gripped the desk behind your head. Your limbs tingle with the feeling of the pleasure spreading throughout your system. You clench around his cock and bury your face in your arms. You wrap your legs around his waist and bite your lower lip with the smallest grunts.

“Come on, love,” he rasps, his hair disheveled and his breath rough with exertion and desire. “You wanted this, don’t hide from me.” He reaches one hand out to gather your wrists in his palm. “Moan for me, darling. Look at me.”

You bring your attention to his face, your lashes fluttering with each little thrust inside your quivering pussy. You release your bottom lip from your teeth, setting free more whimpers and whines as your back rubs against the wood of his desk, the rock of his hips having you bouncing atop it.

He looks pretty. His eyes are dark, his pupils blown wide with lust as he gazes upon your body. For a moment, he wonders if he should take off your gown to see your naked body beneath him. But if he has to pull out of you before he’s finished, heads will roll. “Is this what you want? Eh?” he wonders aloud, letting go of your wrists to place your legs over his shoulders. You reach forward just enough to grab his waist, holding him close as the pleasure builds to wavering heights in both of you.

He presses his thumb to your clit, pulsing and in need of stimulation. “You needed me to fuck you nice and rough? Make it all up to you, eh?”

You nod sloppily, not paying too much attention to what he says as the pleasure gets closer and closer to that so desperately needed release. Your thighs tremble, the delicious shocks of desire bringing them to life as he continues to fuck into you.

“Tommy,” you gasp, dropping into a moan at the end of his name. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

“You are, eh?” he teases, rubbing your clit just a little faster. “Have you said ‘please’?”

You mewl, helpless as you obey simply for your own satisfaction. He’s got you laying on his desk with his cock shoved in your cunt, and you’re moaning for him like the whores he used to fuck, but you’re still mad at him, even if you still love him with everything you’ve got.

“Please,” you moan. “Please let me cum, Tom.”

He grunts as he accepts, his thrusts becoming sloppier as he keeps on. “Alright,” he says. “Go on, love.”

The pleasure rises within you until you can’t hold it in anymore. With a thrust of his hips and a flick of his thumb, you fall apart as you close your eyes and lay your head back, your lips parting with a loud moan to let his name slip from your lips like honey. Your thighs tremble, your pussy flutters around him and pushes him over the edge.

A rough groan, bordering on a growl, erupts from his throat as he shoves his cock as deep inside you as he’ll go, grinding his hips to bury himself there. “Fuck,” he curses, your name rumbling in his chest. He spills inside you, rolling his hips into you as he does to fill you up with his warm spend. Your body tenses as you accept him, your lungs full of breath as your whimpers bleed into each little sigh until you feel the pleasure beginning to wane in the tingling of your toes.

He leans forward, towering over your body as his hips continue to thrust into you, his lips finding the junction of your neck and shoulders to taste your skin against his tongue. His kisses embed themselves in the fabric of your skin until they reach your lips, eager to slot into their natural place and become whole once more. The sounds he muffles into your mouth borders on a moan as his eager thrusts slow against the sensitivity of your pussy still coming down from your high.

You both linger there moments after you’ve returned to the earth through obligation. When you’ve come to yourself enough, wrap your arms around his neck and let out a long sigh, releasing the deep breath you’d taken moments before.

“Fuck,” you curse on a sigh, carding your fingers through his hair.

Tommy pulls his face from the crook of your neck and kisses you again, long and slow and almost possessive. He leans back to see your face, bringing his fingers up to brush them over your forehead, looking fondly into your eyes and searching your face for all of his favorite little features.

He sighs. “I don’t say it enough,” he says, his voice low and gentle and sincere. You stare back at him, stroking your knuckles along his jaw. “I love you, wife.” Your noses bump. You breathe each other’s air.

You breathe a little laugh, humming lightly. “No, you don’t say it enough.” You close the gap to kiss him again, a quicker kiss. “I’ll make sure you do.” You don’t return it, but he can see it in your eyes that you do, you do love him. He can see in your eyes just how much you can’t measure it. You don’t have to say it. He knows.

He taps your side, breaking away from you as he pulls out with a small sigh. He takes your hand and helps you to sit up. As you do, you take hold of his shirt and bring him close to your face. He thinks you’ll kiss him again.

“And, Thomas,” you smile a little, but he can see the threat lingering on your lips before they speak it, “if those words come out of my children’s mouths one more time, I’ll cut your cock off and feed it to you.”

Part of him wants to believe it’s just a threat—you love him (and his cock) too much. The other part knows it isn’t. You love your children more.

He smiles at you, nodding. He laughs as he says, “I love you, woman.”

You sigh on a hum, taking in the sight of his pretty face. “Hm… I know.”

Cillian Murphy taglist: @lyarr24​ @runnning-outof-time @goblinjnr @kmc1989 @shelbyism @weepingwitchofthewest @cl-0-vr @thoticious @sinarainbows @the-nerdy-goddess @urmomsgirlfriend1 Tag yourself here...

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[mochatsin]

WHEN THE BROTHERS SAVE MC

A scenario where you find yourself in the middle of trouble against demons who would either want to eat you, ruin the exchange program, and the list goes on. Sometimes, they don’t even need a reason to hurt you. Thankfully, one of the brothers arrives in time before it could get worse. Or tldr, the brothers SNAP as they save you

TW: implied torture and violence note: It’s funny because by the time I finished Satan’s part, there’s a chat on my Obey Me about MC getting full marks on their Curses and Hexes subject because of him and I think it’s a funny coincidence it's like the game can hear me. ------------

Lucifer

In his meeting with Diavolo, they both speculated that a faction must be growing against him, and the best way to sabotage the royal prince is to destroy the exchange program after all. 

Lucifer knows that Solomon can handle himself, but you? He’s not so confident. Sure, you can wield magic and form pacts, but there’s a long way to go and stronger enemies to face. You still didn't have the ability to summon them when you needed it without borrowing magic from the sorcerer. 

So when he heard that you haven’t been home and they couldn’t find you anywhere? His heart was banging in his ears. 

You were in charge of dinner for tonight and went out to buy some food to cater to everyone’s requests. But it’s been how many hours since you’ve left and no one can seem to contact you. Mammon went to fetch you from the grocery where you usually buy what you need, only to find your cracked D.D.D. on the ground along with some blood stains.

Lucifer immediately notifies Lord Diavolo and summons all his brothers. The aura around him is intense and his presence is demanding, rightfully so when the human under his protection suddenly went missing. 

“I want EVERYONE to find them. We are not stopping until they are safe and sound in the House. Even if our hands get dirty. Understood?” He demands, and the brothers are happy to obey with that last part.

They were willing to tear apart the entirety of Devildom just to find you. 

Lucifer ends up finding a lead first, after torturing the poor rebel he found in the dark woods to locate the hideout. He heads straight in while his brothers take care of the rest of the demons. 

You were chained by two guards in a cell. The leader wanted to have you killed in front of the royal prince, to see the horrified look on Diavolo’s face, so he kept you alive long enough.

However, Lucifer barges in the cell, with the head of the leader at his hand before tossing it aside. There is no shred of mercy in his eyes. 

“Let them go. That is an order.” 

In a blink of an eye, the demons are nothing but a puddle of red, and Lucifer is already next to you trying to undo your chains.

“Just look at me, MC. Look into my eyes.” he didn’t want you to see the leftover gore. 

With the injuries and bruises on your skin, he can tell you tried to put up a fight when you were being taken. 

“MC… I’m sorry, I couldn’t get to you sooner. But I’m here now. You’re safe in my arms, so rest…”

All the stress and tension he was feeling was gone the moment you sank into his arms, and he embraced you for as long as he could. As if you’d disappear again if he lets go. 

You don’t care about the blood staining his clothes, or the screams coming from the demons outside the cell you were in. You are safe now. 

One of the largest enemy forces against Diavolo disappeared in a single night.

Mammon

A couple weeks ago, he suffered a really bad losing streak during his gambling nights. And he pissed off the big guys more since he tried to cheat his way out of it, before running away from the illegal casino with the money. 

He spent the next few days suffering from Lucifer’s punishments when he was caught, and hiding from those demons he owed money to. 

One night he receives a letter, with a very familiar stamp on it. He wanted to throw it away until he saw red stains on the envelope, so he opened it. 

“I’ll take away your greatest treasure if you don’t give me back my money.” Was written in blood. Your blood. 

He panics when he realizes that he hasn’t seen you since you both left RAD. You went home ahead since he still had to do cleaning duties in the classroom as part of Lucifer’s punishment, but he found it odd that you weren’t in your room. Now he knows why. 

He desperately tries to contact you, calls are left unanswered and text messages are filling up the inbox you haven’t opened. 

There was only one place he knew they’d take you, so he quickly runs to the casino where he last gambled.

Maybe it wasn’t wise of him to run off on his own, since he found himself surrounded by demons and that you were nothing but bait to lure him in their trap. 

But he is the Avatar of Greed, and if they thought that a bunch of lesser demons could get in his way then they are about to be reminded of how wrong they are. 

Mammon doesn’t seem so intimidating given his reputation, but that doesn’t mean he won't drive his fist through the demon’s skulls when they threaten your life as payment for measly debts. You’re priceless to him, and those threats are nothing but insulting. 

The demons that took you held you in a vault so you wouldn’t escape, and you watched as Mammon practically pulled the iron door apart to open it. 

He was panting, already in his demon form. He was drenched in blood and a bit bruised, though some wounds were already healing and while others had completely vanished. He didn’t care about those though when he saw you.

“MC! Y-your arm is bleeding!” He rushed as if you were gravely injured. Humans are fragile after all. He won’t listen to you even if you said you were fine as he checks you for any other injuries. 

He doesn’t admit that he worried, but you saw the fear from his eyes that was washed over with relief when he finally found you. 

He stopped making risky gambles and bets out of fear that more demons would target you as compensation. He also became more protective, if that was even possible in the first place. As long as he’s alive, he’ll make sure your safety is now his priority.

Levi

The only way you could bring Levi outside was if you offered to play that new AR Game. Mononoke Land was all the hype right now, so asking him to go out so you can catch spirits was perfect. 

You both had a blast going around town, at least this way you get to explore some parts of Devildom with Levi and enjoy his company.

You both stopped by a lake, since your human stamina can’t catch up to Levi who hasn’t sat down for a single second just so he could catch spirits that appeared on his phone. 

“MC look! I’ve never had this one before!” He was so excited to show you what he caught but when he turned around, you weren’t there on the spot he left you “MC?” 

Surely you wouldn’t ditch him here right? He did feel bad that he spent more time focusing on the game than paying attention to you, since you were the one who invited him out after all. 

He could hear the splashing of water and finds you walking in the middle of the lake, lured in by a siren’s song. Those kinds of things don't work on Levi, but he forgot how effective it was on human ears that you were immediately put under its spell. 

Quickly, Levi transformed and jumped into the lake. He never knew that these waters were infested with sea dwelling demons and sirens until he saw them trying to drag you into the lake. He regrets not paying more attention to where the game brought you both to. 

Luckily he’s the best among the brothers when it comes to the waters, so he was quick to save you when the siren started dragging you deeper in the water to drown you. 

It wouldn’t want to let you go and it intended to bring Levi down with it, so with a quick flick of his tail, the water started staining red. Not exactly a good idea when it started attracting more demons towards you both. 

You were unconscious from the siren’s song, and Levi doesn’t want to expose you to more harm than necessary. He brings you to shore to keep you safe, before diving back in to slaughter the rest of the fish.

These sea dwellers are nothing but shrimp compared to Levi, the Grand Admiral of Hell's Navy. Water is his element and he is quick to tear them to shreds when any of them tried to get to you. 

You wake up to Levi shaking you, both of you drenched from head to toe. You don’t remember what happened, the last thing you recall was hearing someone sing and it all blacked out. 

He wraps his arms and tail around you tightly “D-dont scare me like that MC! Jeez… this is why we should shut ourselves indoors…” 

He doesn’t want to tell you what happened. But the blood red lake is all you need to know what transpired. 

Satan

You both decided to have a small study session together in the library. You were struggling a bit with the subject of Curses and Hexes, and Satan is more than happy enough to teach you the basics. 

Satan always talks about his pranks with Lucifer that revolve around curses, plus he’s the most knowledgeable out of the brothers so he was the perfect fit for a tutor. 

It was unlike you to be late for your study sessions though. Satan has been waiting for a while now in the library, long enough for him to stand up and search for you. He memorized your schedule, so he knew which classrooms to search in.  

Before he could even enter the room, he could hear a lot of mockery and laughter. But the voice he could recognize was from you, and you sounded hurt. He wasted no time barging in. 

You were just on your way to the library to meet up with Satan, until two demons from your class cornered you. They poked fun of your grades, despite the fact you’ve only been learning for a few months. They said awful things, and called you insulting names to the point tears threatened to fall. 

“Pathetic human, can’t even master something as basic as this. You’re nothing without the demon lords. Why don’t we give you a hands-on learning experience about curses?”

Before they could even chant a single phrase, Satan barged in his full demon form, the impact from slamming the door was enough to crack the walls around it.

“Say one more word from your mouth, and I’ll rip that jaw of yours off your head and fill up your throat with your teeth.” He threatened as he made a beeline towards you, kneeling down to face you.

“Mc… oh kitten, please know that nothing they’ve said is true. You don’t have to be perfect in everything, even in grades, to impress me.” He was so gentle with you, wiping the tears from your eyes with his thumb. 

“I’ll have one of my brothers pick you up, okay? I just need to teach a certain demon a hands-on lesson.” he escorts you out of the classroom before he closes the door behind him. You hear the click of the lock, and just as you reached the end of the hallway you heard a lot of screaming. 

He may be the secretary of the student council, but his wrath knows no patience. He’s not waiting for an order from Lucifer or Diavolo, not when he can show these demons what to expect when they mess with his precious human.

When he gets home, he checks you for any wounds. Claw marks and scratches ran across your skin, and it took all his self control not to go back to RAD and finish what he started. But he tends to you first, kissing each wound and tears as he comforts you. 

Satan spent the next few days reminding you that you’re special to him. He would whisper sweet nothings to you when you two are alone. “If you need my help, please never hesitate to reach out to me. It brings me joy whenever I can offer you my assistance.”

Whenever you ask him why the demons are constantly coughing out frogs if they try to approach you, Satan would just smile and deny it. 

“Maybe they got cursed? Who knows.” 

Asmo

Asmo wanted to take you shopping for make-up today. He insisted on giving you a makeover and after you finally said yes, he wanted to take you to several stores to see which kinds would suit your complexion best.  

You were in charge of carrying all the products that Asmo bought for you as he dragged you to another store. Most of the time though, you would sit down waiting for him to finish retouching his makeup. Every time he makes eye contact with himself in the mirror, he would take out his powder, lipstick, or comb to make sure he stays perfect.

Both of you were unaware of a succubi that’s been following you ever since you got to the mall. She has been boiling with jealousy because ever since you showed up, you were the point of all of Asmo’s attention. But now you’re all alone, a perfect time to see for herself who her rival is. 

You feel sharp nails grab the hair from the back of your head, and instinctively you drop all the bags at hand to try to pry off whoever was holding you. She yanks and pulls your head back as she hissed.

“I can’t believe that the Avatar of Lust fell for such an ugly human like you. Even laying my eyes on you makes me sick! I don’t see what he loves so much about you.”

“Then maybe you don’t need those eyes after all darling.” You hear Asmo from behind, but you can’t turn your head to his direction. Not while the succubi still has a grip on your hair.

It didn’t last though, you felt the grip loosened and heard a blood curdling scream. You wanted to turn to look at what’s happening behind you but Asmo stopped you “Sweetie, please don’t turn around. I don’t want you to see me all… messy.” 

You focus on picking up the bags that you dropped, trying to ignore the screaming and growing puddle of red that’s bleeding through the tiles. 

Asmo wraps an arm around you after you grab everything, taking you away from the scene. He still has that cheerful smile on his face and was somehow spotless from head to toe, as if nothing happened. The only evidence is the blood if he must’ve forgotten to remove under his nail polished fingernails. 

Remembering all those words, you insisted that you both go home now and Asmo agreed. He’s a little pouty seeing your frown, it’s not a good look on you. He’s tired of seeing that look on your face whenever you look at yourself in the mirror, which is why he wanted to bring you here today. If only that demon didn’t have to come and ruin it. 

“Darling… You know that you’re beautiful right? And I’m not saying that just because. I have exquisite taste after all! and I’ve seen a lot of pretty things and pretty faces. But you’re the best by far” He reminds you, and it makes you smile. He starts making a habit of telling you everyday.  

You didn’t ask about the succubi, Asmo wouldn’t tell you anyways. But you saw everything up in Devilgram though. Someone was able to record the whole thing where Asmo has stirred quite the scene when he claws out that poor succubi’s eyes behind you. Maybe that’s why he didn’t want you to look. 

It’s a miracle you didn’t get any blood on your clothes. Though you remembered how Asmo offered to wash your jacket for you so maybe you weren’t so lucky.

“Gosh! I’m so glad that video got my good side, but I do NOT pair well with blood.” He whines. Eventually, Lucifer had Barbatos take the video down quickly for damage control.

Beel

Ever since Diavolo took over Devildom, he made laws that banned humans off the menu for demons. Even if it’s been centuries since then, with new delectable food alternatives, there are still those who crave for the blood of humans.

You and Beel promised to go out on a small food trip, a reward for him after he won his recent Fangol game. You’re willing to accompany Beel anywhere he wanted to go, so he took you to dessert shops you’re both unfamiliar with. 

He seems to be having a time of his life getting to try out these new stalls! And you’re in charge of making sure he doesn’t eat the entire stock every single time.

Beel made a promise to save some sweets for Belphie, so he made a quick stop to that shop that sells Devil Honey Cookies while you wanted to check the shop across the street. Though when he came back, he couldn’t seem to find you anywhere. He entered each shop to find you but to no avail,

He never thought to search some of these shady stalls, the kinds that would hang fresh butchered bats and hog heads on the window display. He knew this stuff made you uncomfortable, so he was considerate enough not to bring you here.

That was until he overheard some demons whisper to each other “the chef said there’s a new item on the menu tonight. Something we haven’t had in a long time. A fresh human.” 

Beel dropped the honey cookies and ran straight to the kitchen, where he found the butcher sharpening his knife with you strapped to the table. You were taken away to the butcher’s shop while he was away, since the demons have been craving the meat of human flesh for centuries now. 

The blood in his veins is boiling, the air around the kitchen is suddenly heavy to breathe as he transforms. 

“Y-you’re not supposed to be here!” The chef demands, pointing the sharpened blade at Beel. He never spared the demon a glance, using his two fingers to bend the knife like a toothpick. The chef couldn’t dare to move and simply watched as Beel untied you from the table. 

The low growls from him when he saw how the restraints bruised your skin, you can tell that nothing you’d say will help sooth his nerves. Then you heard his stomach roar. 

“MC… I need you to go out of the kitchen first. I’ll meet you out front okay?” 

Once you leave, Beel turns to the chef. The last thing that poor soul saw was all the hunger in his eyes. “Bon appetit.” 

From outside, you heard this sickening CRUNCH that sent shivers down your spine. After a few minutes, Beel walks out the store as he licks his lips clean. 

“Why don’t we call it a day MC? I’m feeling kind of full now.” 

Belphie

Belphie doesn’t like looking back at his old self. Back when he hated all humans. The one that manipulated and lied to you, then rewarded your help by killing you with his bare hands. 

It took a lot of apologizing and making up for it to get him to how you both are like right now. But he knows that sometimes the pain lingers. When you shiver if his hands get too close, the times he finds you rubbing your neck, or how you stopped running down the stairs since you’re afraid of falling; those were all your tells.

He knows that he’s not the only demon out there who was against having human exchange students. Those demons are far less patient and more ruthless than he is, and he’s afraid that they might do something worse if they get their hands on you. 

Belphie has been trying to look everywhere for you, but you’re nowhere in your classrooms. Confused, he calls up Beel trying to ask for your whereabouts.

“What do you mean? MC said they’ve been looking for you after you sent them a letter.”

“... what letter? I never sent them one though”

“That’s odd. MC said you were asking to meet them at the rooftop.”

Belphie hightailed it to the roof, knowing that a demon must’ve forged his name and handwriting just to trick you. When he got to the rooftop, he found the doorknob jammed locked. 

He tried to kick the door open, but doors built in RAD were built to be so sturdy and he wasn’t as strong as his twin. He thought about calling Beel over to help, but all sense of reason jumped out of the window the moment he smelled something oh so familiar. 

The smell of your blood. He can never forget the scent, especially when it lingered in his fingertips for so long after the incident. He quickly shifts into his demon form to finally kick down the door, yelling for your name. 

A demon was dragging you by the hair, trying to take you to the edge to ‘throw out the trash’ while you begged for it to let you go. 

You felt its grip on you loosened, enough for you to get up and see Belphie holding onto the demon’s wrist. 

“MC… I need you to go out and call Beel over.” He says, unable to look at you. He was afraid that he might see that fear in your eyes again if he did. So he waited until you left and closed the broken door behind you. 

The grip he has on the demon tightens up until the point it’s wrist snaps, but he looks unfazed even with all the screaming. 

“You know… I used to be just like you. I used to tell myself that I would tear apart those humans to shreds. All the things I did. They didn’t deserve that… but I know who does.”

It’s late at night in the House of Lamentation. After managing to calm down the brothers from the fuss, you try to find Belphie and see him in the bathroom trying to wash his hands. You both lock eyes and before you can say a word, you break the silence. 

“… Thank you, Belphie. I wouldn’t know what would’ve happened if you weren’t there.” 

He looks surprised, assuming that you might’ve been afraid of him after his earlier behavior. But his lips formed a smile “anything for you, MC”

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios