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xob1tchs · 1 year

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(i completely understand if you don’t wanna do this, no pressure babe) but can i have a fic where readers on her period n mentions that apparently orgasms help w cramps (kinda as a joke) but ethan’s more than willing to they fuck??

THANK YOU THANK YOU 🙏🙏

we’ll be so good

fem!reader x ethan landry

warnings; fingering, mentions of blood, period sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, slight dumbification, pet names (babe, baby, angel) unedited so spelling & grammar errors.

a/n; this is the title inspo, bc ethan is lowk the weeknd coded 🫣 and babe…i can write u anything u want xx

You’re curled up in Ethan’s dorm, face buried in his blanket, body drowning in his hoodie paired with a pair of boy short panties, eyes screwed shut as another wave of cramps washes over you. You groan out in pain, flinching when the door opens, rolling over to see a sweaty Ethan slip inside. He’d left for the gym after his last class, texting you to let you know his dorm room was unlocked, and you’d taken the unspoken offer graciously. Periods are always more manageable when you can cry and whine in Ethan’s bed, earning soft coos and praises in return.

He tugs his shirt over his head, tossing it to the overflowing laundry basket m, before he tugs the door to their wardrobe open “cramps bad again baby?” he questions, riffling through the heaps of close in search of a towel, you hum and he clicks his toungue, sighing “i wish i could help babe” he mumbles.

You hum again, shifting to sit up on your calves, hand between your legs to keep you stable. You let your eyes wander, gaze darkening as you watch the taut muscles in his back flex as he continues looking, and you feel a familiar feeling stir in your tummy “well actually maybe you can” you mutter, head tilting as you recall an article you’d read among your search for more effective methods than pamprin and warm compresses.

He turns to look at you, brows raising in curiosity, tossing a towel over his shoulder. Your fingers anxiously toy with the fabric of sheets, but the ache in your abdomen is over ruling any embarrassment.

“orgasms can help with cramps”

Ethans eyes fall hooded, and he tilts his head at you, lips parting as if he’s about to respond – but only silence fills the air in the room.

Now nerves are setting in, and you feel heat rising up your neck, ready to let the ground swallow you whole “but that’s silly- and kind of gross right? i don’t actu-“

“since you’re on your period does that mean we get to do it raw?”

Your words are cut short, mouth falling open, eyes widening as you watch Ethan toss the towel to the ground; already padding across the room to stand infront of you.

His fingers trail across where your breasts poke through the fabric of his hoodie, to the hem against your thighs, before he’s tugging at it gently — your arms instinctively raising, letting him drop the fabric to the floor “let me help you” he says softly, hand’s cupping your hips, smoothing up your sides, gently skimming over your breasts until the reach your shoulders, squeezing in reassurance

“o-okay” you stutter in a breath, back hitting his mattress with a thump, stomach falling flat against your rib cage as his fingers wonder down your bare skin the the hem of your panties “but- i can take these off” you grip his wrist, eyes widening at the thought of your boyfriend taking your period diaper off.

He chuckles, to strong for you to to keep in place, fingers hooking in the elastic of both your panties and the dark material of your so called period panties, tugging them both down with a shake of his head, letting them fall to the floor by his feet “you act like i don’t change the trash when you’re on your period – stop over thinking” he mumbles, fingers trailing down your pelvis, reaching the best between your legs, pulling your lips apart revealing your pussy to his view.

he sucks in a breath, pressing his thumb to your swollen clit, cooing when you squirm under the pressure “should I prep you? stretch this little pussy out with my fingers? hmm?” he mumbles, fingers already trailing down your folds, teasing your core.

You feel heat spread across your face, face turning to look away from him, hips twitching when he slips it in to the first knuckle, curling as he toys with your aching walls “tell me you want it baby” he tsks, chuckling at your poor attempt to slink down, hoping for his fingers to plunge inside of you.

“I-i want it e” you whine, blinking away any self doubt, lips parting in a frown.

“that’s good baby” he hums, stuffing three fingers in at once prompting you to whine out, jaw falling open at the sudden stretch, pussy walls contracting around him. Crooning out a praise “so tight, always” you gasp at his words, hips jerking when he spreads his fingers, stretching you open.

Your back arched off the bed when his thumb presses to your clit, rubbing in harsh circular motions, your thighs clamping around his wrist “feels good” you cry, thighs resisting as he pushes at the, burning from his strength as he forces them wide open.

“you’re so sensitive, so cute” he smiles down at you sweetly, eyes shining with adoration as he watches you writhe below him,. His smile on widens when he slips his fingers out and you cry his name, pleading for him to keep going, he ignored you, fingers gripping the waist band of his sweats, staining them with the maroon liquid coating his fingers. They fall to his ankles, underwear not found – that makes you clench around nothing, eyes round and amazed when his cock stands straight up against his pelvis, tip below his belly button.

He grips his cock around the base, hips rolling forward to tease his tip against your cunt, ghosting over your clit; gathering a mix of wetness and blood “ready for me baby?” he mumbles in a gentle tone, cock slipping past your lips, protruding at your whole softly.

You whine, skull digging into the mattress, legs spreading impossibly wider “yes yes, please I’m ready” your answer is punctuated with a swift thrust, cock plunging into you in one motion, pussy stretching around him with a delicious burn.

You grips the meat of your thighs, tugging ass a little over the edge of his bed, before he pulls almost completely out save for the tip, and thrusts back in, quickly setting a fast and deep pace.

He fucks into you, balls slapping against your ass loudly, your arousal and blood creaming out around the base of his cock, dripping to stain the carpet. Your hands grip his comforter and sheets harshly, eyes rolling to the back of your head, mouth hanging open as a never ending string of moans and whines flee free. He’s completely sheathed on your cock, gummy and swollen walls clenching around him with a death grip, swallowing his cock back up with every thrust.

You always enjoy sex with Ethan, but the period hormones have gone straight to your pussy, creating an immense pleasure, mind muddled with the thought of Ethan and his cock, fucking you until you can barely breath. You croon, eye lids fluttering as you struggle to keep your eyes open, palm reaching to press against his abdomen “it’s too much, it’s-it’s! I’m gonna cum babe, e please” your words slip out a jumbled mess, eyebrows frowning as Ethan fucks into you even harsher, dark eyes focused on the way drool has begun to slip past the corners of your mouth.

His hand trails flatly down your thigh, until his fingers reach your pussy, and his fingers begin to toy with your clit, making you cry out in shock “that’s right baby, cum for me, want you screaming on the cock angel” he practically growls, a chuckle following when you gasp out, breath falling silent as your real ease washes over you, your hips twitch and jerk, pussy gushing mixed wetness around him, making an absolute mess as he makes shallow and gentle thrusts, fucking you through your high.

When you come down, you swear you’re seeing stars, mind a mess as Ethan pulls out, man handling you into a straddling position sitting; sitting you back down on his cock, causing your over stimulated pussy to clench and spasm “threes the charm yeah? know you can give me more than that” he kisses your temple, and you can only slump forward into his chest, humming in a mindless agreement.

#scream iv #scream 6 #ethan landry smut #ethan landry #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x you #scream smut #🖤 ; lex talks 2 anons!#my inbox 🫧

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piratefishmama · 11 months

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Angel | Steddie Oneshot

Eddie Munson never believed that he’d go to Heaven. Sure he’d been raised in a catholic household, his uncle was religious, he’d been raised to give thanks for the food they ate, to pray before bed that should he not wake, his soul the lord take an all that jazz.

Wouldn’t believe it to look at him, to hear the songs he sang, the music he played. Wouldn’t believe how he’d been raised if one were to go by covers instead of contents.

But despite his upbringing in the very catholic Munson Trailer of Forest Hills Trailer Park, he never believed he’d go to heaven. Something about queers and submitting to sin and blah blah blah it’d been a long-ass time since his last confession, but Uncle Wayne stopped reminding him a few years back, so he had an excuse to keep ‘forgetting’ to do it.

Turns out, one did not need to go to confession to make it to heaven!

Angels would just. Turn up, apparently.

Maybe he’d done something good that he wasn’t aware of, he did go to that Make A Wish thing a few weeks back, DM’d a whole one shot for the kids, he’d spent hours there, a whole dang day just… hanging out with sick kids.

Maybe that was it. Maybe that was what brought this heavenly creature to his side.

To cut a long story short, he was on stage one minute, belting out the lyrics from the final verse of the last song in their set ‘Into the Underdark’, Jeff was slipping into the ending guitar solo, Eddie was gearing up for an end of gig crowd surf and the next.

The next he was looking into a bright, blinding light that kept moving between his eyes.

He’d always been told not to go to the light. If you see it? Don’t go to it, going to it would make whatever trip you were going on a one way ticket, there was no going back when you reached that light. Just hang back, wait for the resuscitation, it’d happen, someone would breathe life back into you, or whack you with enough voltage to get that heart kickin again, just don’t go into that light.

That light was way too close to his eyes, and he couldn’t swat it away. His arms felt tied down. Rude.

And then the light was gone, had he reached it? Was that it? One way ticket stub punched, sorry Earth, Munson out. “Mr Munson? Can you hear me?” Oh what heavenly chorus, the light had momentarily blinded him but shit… when his sight came back, at least enough to make out the vague shape of a very square jaw, of angular features, of warm hazel eyes, and a luscious head of hair surrounded by a halo of brilliant white light.

Angel. He had an audience with an Angel. It could only be an Angel. Neat.

He’d enjoy the ‘I Told You So’ he got from his uncle whenever the old goat made it up there he hoped it wouldn’t be soon though, he’d prefer a longer wait than a short one, thanks.

“Mnn… I hear you big boy, are you sure I’m in the right place though? I’ve been told Heaven wouldn’t want me” it sounded smooth in his head, but he was pretty sure he slurred half the words.

How could he have a slurred voice in Heaven? That didn’t seem fair.

Oh he’d forgive the slurred speech bit if the angel kept making that wonderful music with his vocal chords, that little giggle of a laugh, so bubbly and sweet, yep. Somehow he’d weaselled his way into Heaven. Suck it soccer moms. “Well, at least you can summon the strength to be charming.”

He was charming? An angel thought he was charming? Hell yeah, he’d rock this heaven shit, he already had an in with the big, winged boys!

“I can summon the strength for other stuff too, worship ain’t ever really been my thing but, baby I think I can learn for a literal Angel” he’d subject himself to an afterlife on his knees gladly if it meant he’d have his hands curled around this creature’s thighs, his mouth on—

“Oh wow…” Eddie couldn’t really see it properly thanks to the lovely blinding spots in his eyes that was no doubt his eyes adjusting to heavenly light, but he was sure his angel was blushing, he sounded a little breathless. Good. “You’re uh… wow”

Eddie hadn’t had much charm before becoming world famous but, he’d gained a little experience. Women and men alike throwing themselves at him, knowing he wasn’t all that fussed, babes were babes. All genders welcome to hop on and take a ride. He knew it was mostly the fame, he was still the same nerd he’d been back in high school, but… if fame got him laid then fame got him laid.

At the very least it gave him the experience to flirt with one of Gods pretty little birds. Maybe even score if the reaction he got was any indication.

So much for lust being a punishable sin, huzzah.

Steve was having a day. Okay no, Steve was having a whole week. The only upside to his overtime riddled ass, was that Robin had been on the majority of his shifts with him, so they could at least talk in the ambulance while they roamed the streets waiting for chaos to drop.

Monday, it’d been a seven car pileup on the highway, a few lost limbs, no fatalities but one hell of a close call on two accounts.

Tuesday, it’d been a tumble at a care home resulting in a popped hip and some heavy flirting from a few old ladies. Poor Robin suffering it from a few old men trying to shoot a shot they didn’t have.

Wednesday it’d been crisis after crisis resulting in him not finishing his shift until six hours after he was meant to finish his shift.

Thursday he had one blessed night off, thankfully his on-call status hadn’t dragged him in, and he got a decent six hour nap in.

Friday, another car wreck, he didn’t want to think about that one.

And now Saturday.

Dispatch sent them to the sold out arena, some idiot had leapt off the stage likely for a crowd surf, his foot tangled in an amp chord, it reduced his air time dramatically and he brained himself on one of the guard rails.

Excellent. At least he wasn’t dead.

Which given how easily one could wind up six feet under from such a whack to the head, he was lucky.

They parked by the side exit, shuffled in by security, and right through into the arena. The patient hadn’t been moved as per dispatchers instructions to the person who’d called. No moving the idiot until the professionals arrived and determined it safe.

Cameras, flashing lights, big beefy security guards standing in front of them blocking the majority of what was happening from view, there was… quite a bit of blood there. It didn’t look pretty in that lighting. “The crowd’s too much, let’s get him to the ambulance.” Robin’s patience didn’t exist when it came to large crowds.

Too many people. Plus she’d been on shift five hours longer than he had.

“Alright, you two, c’mere” Steve singled out two of the big security guys “we’re gonna need you to help us get him onto the gurney, we’ll look him over in the back of the ambulance.” There were no broken bones, nothing stopping them from moving him just enough to get him to the ambulance unscathed.

And then, somewhere between writing out paperwork, checking vitals, and Robin googling who this guy was, said guy… woke up.

Steve, being closer, was quick to check responsiveness, pupils reacted well to light although a concussion did look likely, they’d cleaned up the blood and found the cause to be a cut just above his left eyebrow that’d probably make a kickass scar and oh.

Without the blood. Oh. Oh he was pretty. Pretty plump lips, long lashes, deep brown eyes, faint freckles across his nose. All that hair. He was pretty.

“Mr Munson? Can you hear me?” He’d asked, while shining that little torch into those pretty brown eyes, left to right to check the responsiveness. And then he spoke and Steve— well. Robin was eyeballing him judgementally pretty damn hard given how fast his face flamed red.

Her head in her hands, her fingers plugged into her ears as Munson rattled off promises of worship and good lord— Steve didn’t know what to say, what to do, what does one do when a hot yet slightly delirious rockstar offers to worship your ‘angelic body’?

What does one do with that?

One awkwardly stutters through thanks while bright red and toasty until they can part with the guy at the ER wishing he’d met him under better circumstances cause it’d been a long ass time since anyone even touched him let alone worshipped him but accepting that he’d probably never see the guy again, so it didn’t really matter.

Until a few days later when the official Corroded Coffin account slid into his DM’s on Instagram, apologised profusely, and requested very sweetly to make it up to him with dinner the next time he was free.

Signed Eddie. With a little angel emoji. How on earth could he say no to that?

#steddie #piratewrites #Rockstar!eddie munson #Paramedic!steve harrington #SHITPOST FICLET #i have no excuse for this

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crappymixtape · 3 months

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because of you • part two

PART I • PART III • PART VI • PART V // REQUEST -> @sattlersquarry ❝ an enemies to lovers fic with Steve? 💙 maybe they have to put aside their differences to fight upside down stuff and realize they actually have a lot in common 👀 • 18+ | ( 3.3k – little bit of king!steve, mostly angst with a dash of fluff, enemies to idiots in love, steve x reader )

B E C A U S E O F Y O U • P A R T T W O 🎶 theatre, etta marcus

❝ IS IT EASIER WHEN YOU DON’T HAVE TO START AGAIN? WHEN YOU DON’T WANNA MAKE AMENDS? ❞

‘Stealing a Winnebago’ had been easier than you’d assumed, but the getaway execution went exactly like you thought it would. Absolute disorganized chaos and the way Steve peeled out of the trailer park dumped you into Robin’s lap for the first mile. Made you even more skeptical of whatever half-assed plan these people had frankensteined together and now? You found yourself browsing the clothing section of The War Zone.

What in the hell were they thinking coming here anyway? From Eddie’s retelling of what happened under Lover’s Lake it sounded like not one of them knew anything about hand-to-hand combat, let alone guns. Couldn’t even land a punch, but thought they could handle this? Walls of rifles on display, rounders full of bulletproof gear and cases upon cases of bullets and god, you wanted to leave.

“Hey,” Nancy’s voice pulled your attention away from the tactical vests you were staring at, her eyes wide and earnest as she looked over at you. “If I go over to the counter, you gonna be okay?”

“Oh, totally,” you lied. “Yeah, was gonna go look over here anyway,” and you thumbed over your shoulder at more vests.

“Okay, good.”

She gave you a small Nancy-Wheeler-smile and left you there alone in a sea of camouflage. In the middle of a store you’d never have set foot in before all this and making you second guess yourself. Second guess what was seemingly more and more a stupid decision to go along with all of this and you huffed a sigh in frustration.

“Should’ve stayed in the trailer,” you grumbled under your breath, fighting the urge to just walk out, but apparently you weren’t the only one wandering around all the puke green clothing.

“Huh, didn’t know you had good ideas.”

The sound of Steve’s voice made your hands ball into fists, nails pressing half moons into your palms.

“Do you ever have anything nice to say?” you sneered and he had the audacity to be so causal. Didn’t even look up from the tactical vests he was flipping through and tossed one into his cart.

“Not to you I don’t.”

Anger rose in your chest like a pot boiling over, so hot it made your cheeks burn as you glowered over at him.

“What’s your problem?”

“Don’t have one.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yep,” and still he didn’t look at you. Picked a bomber jacket off the rack and piled it on top of his vest and it was the last straw.

Stalking over to his side of the rounder you got right up in his face, dug a finger into his chest and said, “Liar.”

His eyes flickered at your accusation, sardonic smile pulling at the corners of his mouth as he looked down at you and warned, “Don’t say things you can’t prove, Princess.” And he leaned into your finger. Waited for you to fold. Tsked at your attitude and the sound of it triggered a memory so strong you felt like you’d been sucker punched.

Your second ever interaction with Steve Harrington happened the week before summer break.

You heard it while you were walking back to school from grabbing lunch at the diner. A high, sharp whistle followed by car horn and then—

“Owwww, damn baby!”

And you recognized the voice right away.

Tommy Hagan. Leaning out the passenger window of Steve’s BMW. Wolf-whistling at you and being a dick and you tried to ignore them, but then they were pulling up next to you and slowing way down.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Tommy purred at your back, your mouth twisting into a scowl at the sound of Eddie’s nickname on his tongue. “You need a rid–” he started to ask, but his question cut short when you turned around.

Mouth dropped open in shock for a split second as he realized who you were, Tommy quickly recovered and started to laugh. That obnoxious, hyena-like laugh that made you want to punch him and he smiled and whistled again.

“Shit, Stevie! Who knew the freak had an ass on her!”

“You kiss Carol with that mouth, Tommy?” you shot back, Steve stifling a snicker from the driver’s seat.

“Bet you could do for a kiss, baby,” Tommy tsked, pouted his lips at you and grinned, “Always so damn sour.”

“Yeah? Wanna find out why?” you threatened and it made Tommy grin even wider. Shark-like. Predatory.

“Park it, Stevie,” Tommy didn’t bother looking at his friend, eyes locked on you as he opened the passenger door and jumped out of the car while it was still moving. Walked right up and crowded over you, eyes narrowing as he leaned in, “And what if I do?”

Your stomach lurched, heart leaping into your throat as you stood your ground. You didn’t think he’d take the bait, but you also didn’t shy away. God, you wished Eddie was there. Tilting your chin up in defiance you glared him down.

“Tommy, c’mon man. Just leave it,” you heard Steve’s voice from over Tommy’s shoulder, tinged at the edges with desperation as he ran up on the two of you, but Tommy couldn’t have cared less.

“Well? What’re you gonna do about it, toots?” Tommy pushed again, toes of his shoes knocking against yours as he stepped even closer, towering over you and it hit you like a ton of bricks how in over your head you were.

“Tommy, just leave–”

“I didn’t ask you, Harrington!” Tommy snapped and you took the opportunity.

Grabbing a fistful of his shirt in your hands, you yanked Tommy down into you and drove your knee into his crotch as hard as you could.

“Oh, fuuuuck,” he choked out, folded in half and hands covering his junk as he dry heaved and you took a big step back.

“Coward,” you turned and hurled the word at Steve and watched it land heavy as his face shifted. Brows pinching together and mouth dropped open, but nothing came out as he struggled to say those two little words. I’m sorry. To tell you he wasn’t like his friend, but his silence betrayed him.

“You bitch,” Tommy grunted at you as he tried to straighten up, one hand still over his crotch.

“Don’t move! I’ll–I’ll get you expelled!” you threatened and it made him laugh. A mean, mirthless thing.

“No fuckin’ way. My mom’s on the school board, who’s gonna take your side?”

And you looked back at Steve for a split second, silently asking him to step in and do something, but he stood frozen in place. Still unable to go against his ‘best friend’ and what little belief you had left in him was shattered.

You were done with Steve Harrington.

Shaking your head, you fought back the tears burning at the corners of your eyes and ran up the path to the cafeteria doors. Disappeared behind them with a loud, metallic slam! and left Steve alone to drown in the deafening silence.

Don’t say things you can’t prove, Princess.

It was like no time had passed, like you were still there in that parking lot with Tommy towering over you and tsking at you just like Steve was doing now, but this time you didn't run away.

“Don’t call me that!” you shoved at his chest and he stumbled back a step.

“Don’t call me a liar!”

“All you do is lie, Harrington! Your entire life was built on lies,” you could see his pulse fluttering against his neck. Watched his jaw tick as he clenched down on the words he wanted so badly to throw at you, but you didn’t give him a chance. “Why are you even here? You don’t give a shit about Eddie. You don’t give a shit about anyone, you’re–”

“Enough!” you flinched as his shout drew the attention of a couple older guys looking at the hunting gear. “You don’t know anything about me, okay? Not a god damn thing,” and the second part was quieter, but they way he held your gaze after punctuated it heavy.

He turned away from you, hastily pushing his cart back toward the cashier counter and walked out the double doors, but you weren’t about to let him have the last word.

“Hey, I’m not done!” you shouted after him across the parking lot. Sharp and biting and it made him spin back around, arms flung out at his sides in exasperation.

“Oh, yeah? Fine. What else you got?”

“Well, for one, I’m not going to sit here while you lord around like King Steve. This isn’t high school. No one here gives a shit about any of that.”

He squeezed his eyes shut at his old nickname. Sucked in a breath and let it out slow to try and steady himself.

“I’m not like that anymore.”

“Seriously? Do you hear yourself? You’ve been a dick to me since I set foot in Max’s trailer! And honestly? I’m not surprised! You think I don’t remember all the shit you put me through, put us through in school?” you shot back and he opened his eyes to glare over at you.

“Like I said, Princess–”

“I said don’t call me that!”

“–you don’t have any idea what this is. What we’re up against. None. You’re in over your head.”

“Okay? And what, I’m supposed to sit here on my hands and say, ‘It’s fine! Steve Harrington and all his little friends will fix this’?? You’re out of your mind!”

“And you think you can?” he shot back and your heart rate thrummed heavy in your ears.

“You know, Eddie says he trusts you now, but hell if I will. No fucking way,” and as you turned and cut past him back to the Winnebago he had to jog to keep up.

“Hey! Eddie almost killed me! With a fucking beer bottle!”

You huffed a laugh and kept walking, shaking your head at the accusation and incredulous at the lengths he was going to prove his point.

“Why should I believe you?” you called over your shoulder, “You’re probably just gunning for a headline: Steve Harrington, Hero of Hawkins!”

“Headline?? I–are you kidding me? You think I’d do all this for a headline??”

And finally you stopped at the bottom step of the Winnebago and Steve seized his chance.

“You really think I’m that superficial?” he shot at your back, but you didn’t turn around. Didn’t even acknowledge him and he spent what little patience he had left. “Hey! I’m talking to you!”

But you were already gone. Frozen in place with the world growing dark. Tree line ahead of you blurring. Unfocused and liquid like water and the ground swam under you as a voice echoed in your mind.

I see you.

The sound of Steve still talking behind you turned to fuzz, crackled like radio static and faded away into ear-splitting silence. Deafening and swallowing you whole and then you felt it. The ground falling out from underneath you and you were drowning in the dark and the voice that echoed in your mind pulled you even deeper.

Resisting will only make it worse.

❝ AND I NEVER HAD A TASTE FOR LIARS OR THE UNIQUELY UNINSPIRED ‘CAUSE I DON’T NEED TO BE DESIRED ❞

Steve glared daggers at your back. Anger hot and fuming and fueled by the fact that you had the nerve to ignore him and god, he wanted to prove you wrong.

“Are you trying to piss me off? Cos its work–” but the words died in his throat as he came around to face you. “Oh. Oh, shit,” with a quick glance over your shoulder he saw everyone else finally coming out of the store and he didn’t wait to call for help.

“Munson!! Eddie!” Steve yelled over your shoulder at your best friend before grabbing your shoulders in his hands and squeezed at them. Leaned down to try and meet your unfocused, far away gaze and when none of it worked he felt his chest grow tight.

Not again.

“Hey, hey! Look at me!" panic clawed its way up his throat as he shook your shoulders, "Stay with me! Munson–hurry up!”

Your eyes were glazed over, tears gathering at the corners as your whole body started to tremble. Breathing stuttered and caught in your throat. Lips parted and trying to pull air in, but it wasn’t enough and Steve felt his hand twitch. Wanted to press it to your cheek to try and ground you, reach you and bring you back, but then Eddie was finally at your side and shoving Steve out of the way.

“Sweetheart! Can you hear me? Shit, shit, shit. What happened?? Honey? Look at me!” Eddie cradled your face in his hands. Did what Steve couldn’t. Voice ratcheted up, his usual low timbre a high pitched thing driven by fear and hearing it doused any remaining anger that had settled into Steve’s chest and replaced it with something else.

With helplessness. Regret. Remorse.

With the slow realization that everything he’d just said to you wasn’t worth it. Remembered how Nancy had yelled at him, just like you, outside of the gym. You’re bullshit! And his throat squeezed with guilt for messing it all up again because he was bullshit. He was a liar and you were right. Had he learned nothing?

He looked at you, your face contorted with fear, and he felt something new flicker within him. A feeling blooming at the pit of his stomach. One he was so certain couldn’t possibly exist when it came to you, but as he stood there watching Eddie try to shake you back from the dark he wasn’t so sure anymore.

“Steve, help me!” tears cut down Eddie’s cheeks as he called to him and pulled him hurtling back to Earth. Desperate. Pleading. Begging him to do something and it shook Steve back into action.

Heart pounding in his chest, adrenaline coursed through Steve's body and fought off the fear that had threatened to trap him in choke hold.

“Max, gimme your Walkman!” he shouted over your shoulder.

The rest of the group had started running back to the Winnebago as soon as they’d heard yelling and when Steve asked for the cassette player, Max knew time was running out.

“Shit,” she hissed under her breath and broke into a sprint, scrambling to untangle the headphones from around her neck as she hurried to get to you. “Here! It’s still Kate Bush, is that–”

“Doesn’t matter–Munson get these on, hurry!” Steve, snatched the Walkman from Max and crammed it into Eddie’s outstretched hands.

“Please, please, please,” fell from Eddie’s lips, desperate, praying that this would work as he fitted the headphones on and pressed them against your ears, “Please.”

Blinking heavy, you strained your eyes against the black. Against the suffocating dark you suddenly found yourself in. The stand of vivid, green ash trees lining the parking lot replaced by gnarled branches, dark and leafless. Bright yellow buttercups snuffed out by thick, wet vines that snaked their way across the ground under your feet.

You weren’t in the parking lot of the War Zone anymore, not really, and as you breathed in the sickly, ashen air your heart stopped in your chest.

The Upside Down.

“Eddie? Eddie!” you shouted into the dark, red lightening cracking the sky in two, and when no one answered you knew you were utterly alone.

Panic gripped you like a vice as you thought of Chrissy. Of Fred and Patrick and dread filled your stomach. Utter hopelessness and grief and when you whipped around to run you felt something tangle around your leg. Wrapping up, up, up and pulling you down, down, down.

You braced for it, ready to break your fall with your hands, but you never hit and instead found yourself lifting into the air. Unhinged laughter filling your ears as more vines snaked around your arms and legs and you swore you were going to be sick.

It was

Him.

“Why isn’t it working?? God dammit, work!” Eddie was yelling at the Walkman, his composure unravelling as Chrissy’s last moments flooded his mind. “Is she gonna die? She can’t die!” he pleaded and his voice cracked, a sob caught in his throat, “Please don’t let her die!”

“Hey hey, hey! Get a hold of yourself. That’s not gonna happen, okay? It’s gonna work,” Steve gripped Eddie’s shoulders, looked him in the eye and tried to reassure him, but when he glanced over at you he knew he couldn’t make that promise. “Please work,” he whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Where are you going? You can’t leave. Not yet.

Vecna’s voice was everywhere. Flooding every part of you and you feared you would never feel joy again. Would never escape this. Would be stuck here forever screaming into the void, hanging on Vecna’s every whim.

I would like very much to show you where I’m going. Please, take a seat.

And the vines yanked you down, squeezed tight around your wrists and legs and held you fast against the ground, rocks digging painfully into your back.

“Please, let me go!” you pleaded into the dark. “Please, I–” but your mouth went dry as a shadowy figure appeared through the ash. Coming closer and closer in the dark with each heavy step and when it finally stopped, feet at your head, your blood ran cold.

Wet, sinewy skin. Muscles exposed and stretched taut. Eyes that pierced your mind and knew every single one your thoughts. Knew all the dark things spiraling there and made them worse. Clawed at you with spindly, protruding hands and long, dagger-like claws and suffocated you with the smell of something rotten.

Of decay.

Of death.

Reaching a hand down, Vecna held it over your face, inches away from touching you as you struggled against your restraints, but they constricted tighter with your every move.

“Please,” you were crying openly now, tears cutting paths through the ash that had settled on your cheeks, but he ignored you.

I want you to tell your friends, I want you to tell them everything you see. Everything I show you.

“No, please!”

Tell them!

“No, I can’t–”

Tell them everything!

And then your head felt like was being cleaved in two. White hot light fracturing the black sky into thick shards and your screams were the only thing you could hear as Vecna pried open your mind and poured into you his vision for the future...

Hawkins in ruin.

Four gashes in the earth. Cavernous. Hot and angry and full of fire.

Your family. Lying scattered across your lawn. Motionless and still and limbs bent wrong.

Tell them!

Your friends hanging in the air just like Chrissy, Fred, Patrick.

Eyes empty, slack-jawed and lifeless, bones snapped like twigs.

Tell them!

Eddie and Robin and Nancy and Steve and–

“NO!” you screamed, the sound pulled painfully from your lungs as you felt your legs give way and collapsed into yourself.

“Whoa! Whoa, whoa, whoa–”

Steve scrambled to grab hold of your shoulder and barely caught you before your bare knees hit the pavement.

You heard birds chirping. Sunlight filtering through the backs of your eyelids as you kept them squeezed shut, but the air was clean. Smelled fresh and as you slowly opened your eyes you realized you weren’t choking on ash anymore.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Steve was still holding onto you, your hands pressed into his thighs as you braced yourself, the feeling of nausea overwhelming.

“I saw him,” you whispered, only Steve could hear you and you started to cry.

“Him?” Steve asked unnecessarily, glancing up at Eddie. Hoping, no praying, if he asked maybe you’d give a different answer. One that wouldn’t involve death and the end of the world and everything hinging on this stupid fucking plan, but he knew.

Everyone knew.

Eyes glued on their feet. Arms folded over their chests and uneasy with the weight that had settled over the group.

“Vecna.”

[ NOTE: THIS IS PART TWO OF A – POSSIBLY – FIVE PART SERIES, PART FOUR AND FIVE TO COME SOON ]

crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist ♥️ reblogs and comments keep me going, friends! ily! ♥️

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powerfultenderness · 9 months

Text

A Good Boy

Summary: A very drunk König ends up at your door. Paring: König/F!Reader Rated: Mature Word count: 988 A/N: [Neighbor!König.] A little free write fluff before I get back to requests.

For @crisped-jello I know this isn't quite what you asked, so consider this a companion piece (bc I do like the request you sent! but König got drunk first!)

You heard the voices first, two men, before someone started to rattle your doorknob. It wasn’t an alarming situation for one reason only, you’d recognized one of the voices.

You quickly turned off the TV so you could hear the muffled voices better.

“Are you sure this is the right key?” Of course this was followed by someone trying to jam a key in the door.

The response, from the man that you were familiar with, was unintelligible. You chuckled under your breath and got up to answer the door. It was quite late, just past 2 a.m., and you were about to go to sleep (after one more episode!) so it was a surprise to hear your neighbor returning home at this hour. Well, him drinking with his friends made sense on why he didn’t show up around dinner like he usually did.

You opened the door and the young man in front of you nearly stumbled inside. The little surprised squeak you let out as he accidentally invaded your personal space was cut short as he was quickly shoved aside by the much bigger man.

“König!”

Heat rushed to your face as he held you tight to his chest. Really tight. The side of your face was squished into his chest as he wrapped his arms around the back of your head and your shoulders. König’s scent enveloped you, a mixture of his soap and what you’ve come to know as the smell of gun oil and a touch of sulfur, all under an almost overwhelming smell of alcohol. Geez. How much did it take to get him this drunk?

“I missed you, darling.” His words were slurred and he swayed on his feet as he hugged you.

“You saw me this morning.” You pried his hands off of you and put some breathing space between you, “why don’t you sit down.”

He stumbled a bit, thankfully the young man that had been helping him caught one of his arms and kept a hold on him until he plopped down on your couch.

“Thanks,” you sighed and looked at the man. He was dressed similarly to König, with a black tee and green cargo pants, so you assumed he worked with him.

“Sorry it’s so late, ma’am. I didn’t know he lived with his girlfriend.”

Your face went hot again, “oh! We’re not. I mean, uhh. He lives across the hall.”

A look of panic crossed his face, “ aw shit! Sorry! He said this was his flat! I can get him across-”

“No, no! It’s ok! He can sleep it off here.”

“It was my job to-”

That was apparently as long as König could go without your attention, as he reached for your hips and attempted to pull you to him. Perhaps only because of how drunk he was, you were fast enough to avoid falling by turning around to face him and snatching up his hands. “Hey, you know the rule. Only good boys get to touch.”

You were mostly joking, but that line had worked wonders on reminding him to keep his hands to himself before. Judging by the way he always found a way to touch you, whether it was as overt as a hug or as subtle as his knee bumping yours, you figured he was a bit touch starved. With his inhibitions lowered, you can only imagine how handsy he’d be. You honestly didn’t mind his touches, but you wanted to at least let his friend (co-worker?) leave first.

König whined and reached for you again, though he stopped himself from actually touching you and let his hands hang in the air. Grabby hands. This giant, grown man was making grabby hands at you.

The young man next to you glanced at you, mindful to keep his movements subtle, both confused and amused at the situation.

“Recruit!” König suddenly yelled, voice booming in a way that made you jump and the man next to you stand at attention. “Tell her!”

“Sir?”

Ah, so this guy was some kind of subordi-

“Tell her I have been a good boy!”

You slapped a hand over your mouth to stop from laughing. The young man next to you, hands still at his sides, didn’t, but from the way he was biting his lip, it was hard for him to stop himself from laughing too.

Still seated, but no less imposing, König glared at the younger man and growled out his command again. “Tell her.”

The recruit cleared his throat and looked at you. “Uh, yes. The colonel has been, uh, a, a good boy.”

It was at that point that you could no longer contain your laughter and you chuckled into the hand you had covering your mouth.

If the recruit finally broke and laughed too, you didn’t hear it, neither you nor König paying any more attention to him.

“See! Now come here!” He reached for your hands and tried to pull you onto his lap.

You managed to resist, still giggling, but ended up standing between his knees. “Alright. What do you want?”

He sat up straight, leaning up towards you, with wide eyes. “To eat your pussy.”

“König!” You gasped, now acutely aware of the awkward cough you heard behind you, and pulled one hand out of his grasp and lightly pushed him back.

He chuckled as he dropped back against the couch, though he never looked away from you.

You sighed and turned back to the still nameless younger man next to you and shook your head. “I’ve got it from here, you can go home now.”

“Good night, sir. Ma’am.”

After locking up, you looked at König. “How about we cuddle instead?”

He nodded, “yes. Cuddle is good.”

You made sure to set some painkillers and a glass of water on the coffee table before laying down with König on the couch, his arms tight around you.

[Neighbor König Masterlist]

Neighbor König taglist (blurbs): Please let me know if you wish to be added or removed.

@warrior-of-justice @cumikering @ihateuguys @rand0m--fangirl @keiva1000 @dtftheavengers @takeyour-pants-off @aeeliy @milenko115 @sodonuthideout @onegami @nadiauddincrafts @nadiauddincrafts @grizzersmamma @flooftoof

#könig x reader #könig x fem reader #blurb #short #neighbor!könig

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themotherofhorses · 1 year

Note

im begging you, dark!aemond bodyguard of the president/king’s innocent daughter omggggg

pairing: bodyguard!aemond targaryen x president's daughter!reader

warnings: explicit language. oral sex. loss of virginity (kinda). daddy kink. slight breeding and housewife kink. small mentions of past obsessive tendencies on aemond's part.

notes: hello, long time no write. consider this me using this request like i'm saddling the horse after getting thrown off.

(also ik aemond might not seem AS dark as other times but like pretty pls read between the lines. thank you ☺️)

masterlist

For being the nation’s current president, your father was quite the fucking fool of a man.

He loves you, truly. How could he not? You were the spitting image of your late mother, and the youngest of his children- his sweet little chick that was barely beginning to spread her wings and leave the nest. He would never forgive himself if you ever got hurt due to his elected role as the commander-in-chief and head of state.

That was the main reason why he hired Aemond Targaryen as your personal bodyguard.

The man had a commendable record behind him, despite his young age. Your father was beyond impressed with him when he first interviewed him for the job. Two tours in the U.S. army as a sergeant and sniper before receiving an honorable discharge and a Purple Heart due to an eye injury while seeing combat overseas. According to some of the everyday politicians, he threw himself over his younger nephew during an ambush with enemy fire, and took a massive chunk of bomb shrapnel to the left side of his face; doctors saved him, of course, but his eye was too damaged to save.

They offered him a glass eye and a fully paid scar revision (along with special vet benefits and apparently some hush-hush money as well), but he refused it all. Instead, he accepted the purple heart, crammed a pretty and shiny sapphire into his empty socket, and made sure everyone- military personnel and civilian altogether- looked him in both eyes whenever they addressed him.

The rumors were true- Sergeant Aemond One-Eye was as terrifying as he was deadly.

Perhaps that was the reason why it did not take very long for him to be buried between your thighs.

You never had a boyfriend before, always too devoted towards your college academic and hobbies, and way too protected and overshadowed by your father. But it was Aemond who stole your first kiss, two months into his new job as your bodyguard. He had been accompanying you on a small shopping trip to the mall, treating it as a sort of bonding experience. When you had mentioned the new lip gloss you were trying out (it was flavored ‘chai latte’), he had asked to taste it.

Okay! you giggled, thinking nothing of it; only for it to be a week later and with his head in between your thighs, eating you out like a starved man.

“Stop it…! Aemond! My daddy might walk in!” You cried, tossing your head back against the pillows as you bit down on your bottom lip to stop the moans from tumbling out. It was all in stupid vain; your bodyguard had you putty in his hands. Anything he wanted, you would happily give him- yourself included. “A-Aemond…!” How could he ever stop? Not when you sounded oh so fucking pretty, so sweet and yummy, his newfound favorite meal served to him on a silver platter, just ready to be completely devoured.

Aemond shook his head. “I don’t give the tiniest shit, babygirl,” he muttered as he sucked on your clit, only pausing every few seconds to kiss your soaked pussy. He had to be soft as well, considering this was a fucking dream come true for him.

The poor bastard remembered all the times he saw you on the television, in those paparazzi photos and the Christmas cards and those gorgeous social media posts of yours. No one would ever understand just how badly he wanted you, and the lengths he went just to have you.

And, well, maybe you should’ve thought first before stepping out in that sinful, short-cut and backless blue dress, the one that made you look perfect for him to knock up, his pretty little housewife. Perfect for him. Made for him. He kept your legs wide open with the tightest grips as he feasted on your cunt, ignoring your desperate (but adorable) attempts to push him away.

“If you can’t handle this, how will you handle my cock?” he tutted. “Poor baby, I’m going to fucking destroy you.”

Everything made your pretty face scrunch up in pleasure, especially when you felt him lick a large stripe up your pussy before he shoved his face in only deeper. You squealed, hiding your face from behind your hands. You could feel his nose, his chin, the heavy pants and low growls and soft kisses he peppered along inner thighs. “And what did I say to call me?” before he gave your ass a hard spank.

You whimpered, already on the verge of sobbing. Fat tears were streaking down your cheekbones. “I-I’m sorry…s-so sorry, daddy!”

Oh but your entire body felt like it was lit on fire- a burning yet tightening sensation nestled deep within your belly. It was so strange. You didn’t know what to make of it. Your head lolled to the side while your back arched up from the bed and your hand found Aemond’s long, whitish-blond hair.

(A common genetic mutation in his family, according to him. Some of the politicians mocked it as the ‘new Habsburg jaw’. You thought it made him look all the godlier.)

His hands soon slid up to your breast, palming and tweaking your nipples between his fingers. Your toes curled as you felt ready to explode at any second. “Daddy!” you mewled, peering down through teary eyes to watch as his face shook side-to-side. His own face held sheer bliss, especially when he brought a finger to trace along your drenched folds. “Daddy…! Daddy! Ah, gods, please!”

“Yeah, that is right, pretty baby, I’m your new daddy now.”

Your father was none the wiser to the fact that, every night, his youngest daughter’s bodyguard had her in a mating press every night, whispering into her ear that it would not be long until she made him into a real daddy.

It was the least you could do in return, considering he was protecting your life with his.

After boring meetings and countless banquets and your a.m. college classes, Aemond would be quick to shove your panties in your mouth before bending you over the nearest furniture set.

You were his.

All his.

His pretty baby, his sweet little future housewife, the girl whose picture he used to secretly carry in one of the vest pockets during his days in the military.

One day, your father pulled him aside and offered him a bonus.

“Truth is, son, you’re doing such a fine job at protecting her. I don’t worry as much as I did before you came along. We could not ask for a better bodyguard, Sergeant,” he admitted, patting him on the back. “Would there be anything you’d like in payment? A vacation? A bonus? Some free time with your family? I know you miss your mother very much; my little girl told me.”

But Aemond shook his head, declining everything. “Sir, with all due respect, your daughter feels like my new family now, considering how close we’ve grown in these past several months, and my duty in keeping her safe. I would prefer to remain by her side if you would allow it,” he said, and your father gave him a cheeky grin.

“Should I perhaps be worried, Sergeant?”

“Of course not, Mr. President. I adore your daughter, but only as a brother would his little sister.”

So it was true, it seemed- your father, bless his heart, was quite the fucking fool of a man. It should’ve been no surprise to him at all that seven months down the line from his conversation with your bodyguard, you would be trying to hide a swollen baby bump from everyone's eyes.

And if he really was smart, then he would’ve remembered the reason why the Targaryens were so often compared to the old Habsburgs of Austria.

#aemond targaryen x reader #dark!aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond smut #dark aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #hotd imagine #request #vic writes 🧸

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sinsandsweetness · 10 months

Text

“compulsion” - part 2 of PICK YOUR POISON - (a dads best friends love story)

first part here

pairing- (Shane x fem!reader)

warnings- nsfw, 18+, age gap, dads best friends, drinking, oral (r!recieving), fingering, jealous rick… 1.8k wc

You’d been a complete tease since that night in the garage. You knew it. They knew it. Apparently the only one who didn’t know it was your father. Such an oblivious man. Unable to see the way his friends undress you with their eyes anytime they get a glimpse of you. Or the way you purposely wear the shortest skirts you own whenever they’re around. And today was no exception. A neighbourhood barbecue that your parents are hosting. Mostly an attempt in upholding the outstanding community member facade they desperately cling to. And with all your fathers friends who were invited, you decide that for your own form of validation, to put on your shortest sundress. A pale yellow with a soft floral pattern, almost unnoticeable unless you were up close. It was so short that you have to pull the sides down anytime you get up from your seat.

“Where you goin’?” Rick asks as you tug on the skirt, heading for the door to your house. Your shoulder now a little cold without his arm wrapped around it. Something neither of your parents seemed to notice. Or if they did they certainly didn’t care. Too busy in conversation, welcoming some of the newest Alexandria recruits.

“Washroom.” You make a face at him. He seemed almost appalled that you’d be leaving his side. He probably was. Always trying to keep you close. Closest out of the three. And that was keeping him on edge. Trying to maintain your attention the most effectively, and keep it on the low. In fact, the secret was making him a little jumpy. The weeks of stolen kisses and touches catching up to him too. Very, very secret touches. Hiding what was becoming an exhilarating and extremely complicated relationship between three different guys, all old enough to be your father.

He watches your hips sway as you walk into the house, flashing him a cute smile before making your way down the hallway.

When the bathroom door opens, you’re pleasantly surprised to see Shane. With a flirty grin, your body moves quicker than your mind. Pushing the man back in as he tries to object, but you don’t let him. Pressing your lips to his and pulling him in by the back of his neck.

“What-”

“Mhpm.” You don’t even let him answer. Just continue kissing him all hot and needy, while you close the door behind you, pulling him close against you as you start to feel him relax. To accept that this was happening.

The entire day was torture. Each one of them very aware of your cries for attention, but not offering to do anything about them. When you tried to pull Rick upstairs to your bedroom he got all tight jawed and told you to cut it out. Pinching your ass as he led you towards the backyard. And Daryl, silently shook his head when you teased your fingernails up your thigh, lifting your skirt to show him the colour of the thong you were wearing. Ugh, they’re so boring. No fun at all.

It’s such a shame too. You want them so bad and they barely seem to acknowledge it. You woke up this morning all hot and needy, hand in your panties before your alarm even wrang. And seeing the men all perfect and groomed wasn’t helping. In their Sunday best button ups, with a spritz of cologne that made your head dizzy. It was intoxicating. The way you actually crave them. The way you feel like you need them. You’re already addicted and you’ve barely even had a taste.

“Would you believe me if I told you I’m a virgin?” You ask Shane in between messy kisses, hands already tugging at his belt, more than hinting at the real reason you decided to trap him in the costal themed bathroom.

He laughs against your lips. He tastes like beer. And you like it. A lot.

“Absolutely not.” He leans back. Tone more serious now. “Are you?”

An amused huff escapes your lips as you rest your head against the bathroom door. “No. But I wish I were.”

You pull him in again, tongue tracing his bottom lip as you kiss him. “Wish it coulda been you who popped my cherry,” his hand is under your dress, rubbing you through your panties. “Who fucked me and corrupted me,” you continue against his lips, the softest moan escaping your throat at his touch.

But he pauses. Trying to catch his breath, still rubbing soft circles on your clit.

“Ain’t too late for that second one.”

He’s right. It’s not.

“Probably woulda been better then some 16 year old jock on prom night. What’d he last, 30 seconds? Bet he couldn’t even make you come, huh?” He asks, fingers finding their way into your panties now, spreading your arousal onto your clit, and dipping inside.

“No- “ you gasp at the intrusion. “Was- was my high school gym teacher. Cheated on his wife with me in the girls locker room during lunch hour.”

Shane couldn’t help the laugh that left his mouth at your confession. Vibrating against your own lips. And you smile because he’s amused. But you aren’t joking. And it’s really not that funny. Truly wasn’t your proudest moment.

“Now that, I believe.”

You’re done talking, so you pull his smile against your own and whimper into his mouth. His fingers already pumping slowly inside of you. Finding your sweet spot with ease. Making your bare toes curl against the cool tile.

From the moment you woke up, you’ve needed this. Needed to come. All over his fingers. His cock would be ideal, but he told you no already. They all came to an agreement. Daryl, Rick and him. Said it was “crossing a line” or some bullshit. As if finger fucking your best friends daughter while he’s flipping burgers on the back deck isn’t.

“Please, Shane- need you so bad-” you whine against his lips. Hips involuntarily bucking into his hand.

“Fuck, baby-” you know he’s trying to hold back.

“Just-uh,” he groans, dropping to his knees in front of you, pulling your panties down in one swift motion. Taking your right thigh and pulling it over his shoulder.

Your hands tangle in his hair at the feeling of his mouth on your cunt. His hands are under your dress, nails digging into your ass and pulling you even closer. The warm slickness of his tongue moving up and down on your clit. Pleasure swirls in your stomach and silent whimpers escape your swollen lips.

“Taste so fucking good-” he groans against you, bringing two fingers up and teasing your entrance. Leaking with arousal and spit. Absolutely begging to be filled. To be fucked.

“Ohmygod,” you moan, pressure building in your core as he curls his fingers. Sucking and lapping at your clit, like he just can’t get enough.

“Gonna come, Shane-” you tell him, hands tightening their grip on his dark locks. Your left leg is starting to tremble, and you’re climax is approaching much quicker then you were hoping. Thanks to his tongue replicating what you can only assume feels just like heaven.

And right when that tight, hot band in your core feels like it’s about to snap, you feel the wood behind you move, and hear the door handle rattle. Someone trying to use the bathroom that had thankfully been locked in between frenzied kisses and grabby hands.

“Occupied!” You squeak, eyes widening at the interruption. Your heart practically skipping a beat at the prospect of being caught.

You feel Shane’s movements halt to a stop, big, brown eyes looking up at you from between your legs.

“Shit. sorry, sweets.” You’re father’s deep voice carries through the door, and a cheeky grin forms on Shane’s handsome face. Once the footsteps retreat down the hall, he puts his index finger to his lips and shushes you. Be quiet, baby.

“Keep going-” your voice is hushed and shaky. Desperately unashamed to be begging for his mouth. His fingers. His nose, and how amazing it feels grinding against your pulsing clit. And wether he heard your pleas or not, he obliged.

You raise you hand to your mouth and bite down on the fleshy side of your palm, silencing the sounds you both know you can’t contain. And you’re close again in a moments time. Eyes rolling back and hips jutting forward. Muscles aching already.

Oh my god.

“Don’t stop, please, please, please-” you beg him for your orgasm. And he gives it to you. Coaxing it out of you with his mouth and his fingers. Feeling a warm wave of pleasure erupt from your cunt, going up your stomach and down your things. And you bite your lip trying not to moan but it feels way too good and you can’t help it.

Not that Shane minded.

“Fuck.” You whisper, core twitching as he pulls his sopping digits out of you. Looking you right in the eye as he kisses your clit, one last torturous time, before he takes your panties, pulls them back up and fixes your dress. He washes his hands as you catch your breath, still leaning against the door. Face flushed when you see him smirking at you through the mirror.

“Think you can behave the rest of the night?”

You nod eagerly, “Yes.”

“Good. Now go back out there and pretend you didn’t just come all over my fingers, alright? Have a drink, eat some food. Be a good girl for us.”

You left the bathroom before him, checking that the coast was clear before slipping outside and eyeing the open spot still next to Rick. He notices you immediately and holds up a red solo cup, cold condensation already dripping down the plastic.

“Made you a drink,” he hands it to you as you sit next to him, the side of your thigh flush with his, keeping him extra close. And before his arm can make its way back around your shoulder, his eyebrows pinch together in a confused scowl.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, inspecting your dopey expression.

“Hm?” You look at him as innocently. Clearly still little dazed from your trip to the washroom.

Rick’s face twitches when he notices. Your thighs are actually trembling. Already sore from keeping yourself standing on one foot, while coming hard on another man’s face only moments earlier.

Rick’s palm flattens on your thigh, pushing it into the seat and halting it’s shakiness.

“Really?”

“What?” You ask, voice sweet as honey.

“You know what.”

“I- I tried to take you upstairs n’ you got all grumpy-” you stutter, trying to defend your sinful actions.

“I said later.”

You open your mouth to respond but nothing comes out. And you’re a little surprised to feel a jolt between your legs at his jealousy. How hot it is that he’s a little mad. A little… possessive.

“M’ sorry,” you whisper in his ear, tucking yourself in closer to his side, sipping the drink he made you. “Can make it up to you. Promise.”

He rolls his eyes. Annoyed and jealous and irritated that it wasn’t him who had his way with you in the bathroom, so well that it made your legs shake. But regardless of his hostility, he wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulls you in against his warm body. And you notice that his grip tightens when Shane walks by, giving you a charming smile and a flirty nod.

Annoyed and defeated, Rick sighs and leans in. Close enough that his lips brush your ear.

“Alright. Upstairs. Now.”

part 3

(Daryl’s part will be next… hope you all enjoyed💗)

taglist- @rickswh0r3 @elnyrae @catt-leya @murder-jacket @miinbun @ankhmutes @eternalrose81 @cl0wnb0yyy @grimesthinker @whatthefuuuck

#twd fanfiction #smut #shane walsh fanfiction #shane walsh #shane walsh smut #shane walsh x you #shane walsh x reader #Shane Walsh x y/n #dbf!rick #dbf!shane #dbf!daryl #dads best friend!trope #pick your poison

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huramuna · 3 months

Text

downpour - oneshot.

modern aegon ii targaryen x nanny reader minors dni, you will be smited.

this is for @targaryen-dynasty sleepover challenge 🤭 i got the babysitter au + the prompt 'why so shy?' i had so much fun with this, modern aegon is a menace and also a sopping wet cat.

word count: 4.5k

content: smutty smut smut (specifics under cut), aegon being a little shit (we love it), saltburn spoilers (lol), allusions to drug / alcohol abuse and rehabilitation, mullet aegon, jaehaera and jaehaerys are hel's kids but they have an unnamed / unrelated father, gratuitous use of song lyrics, probably a touch of power imbalance because of her job

murder on the dance floor - sophie ellis-bexter

warnings: oral (m receiving), face slapping w/ cock, degradation, dirty talk (this man never shuts up), face fucking / deepthroat, cum on face

“Jaehaerys! Jaehaera! Please don’t run in the house with muddy boots!” you called fervently, trying to collapse the umbrella with one hand, two teddy bears slung in the other.

“We won’t!” they both called in unison, followed by the unmistakable sound of muddy galoshes squeaking over the marble floor. You suppressed the urge to groan as you entered the exquisite home through the french doors that led to the backyard.

“Boots off, little ones!” you called again, kicking off your own shoes in a haste to catch the gremlins before they tracked grime all over madam Alicent’s home. You had been working at the Targaryen estate for the better part of a year as a live-in nanny for Lady Alicent’s two grandchildren– twins, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera. It was a wonderful job for the most part, as the twins were a delight and you had grown to have a strong friendship with their mother, Helaena. She was a bit dreamy-eyed and wistful, but was a wonderful mother nonetheless, even if she did have her melancholic days.

The estate was huge and ancient, passed down from generations through Helaena’s father’s side, which was apparently a near royal bloodline from days long foregone. Viserys Targaryen, the father in question, was hardly ever home. He managed the family business (whatever it may be, you didn’t find it in you to ask– all you knew is that they were dirty rich) with his other daughter, Rhaenyra, from his first marriage. He had four children with Alicent, Helaena being the only one of the brood to still live at home.

You’d met two of the others as well; Aemond, a lawyer in the family business who was, in short, all business and no play. He never regarded you, really, besides a quick glance or stiff nod. He had, however, slipped you a eight-thousand dollar bonus at Christmas time with a simple card that read;

Thank you for taking care of the twins and my sister. And keeping my mother sane.

- A.T

The other sibling, Daeron, was the youngest of the bunch, visited usually during holidays, as he constantly was studying abroad. ‘Sowing his wild oats’, as Helaena had put it. He was cordial to you and very much had a boyish charm, and Helaena loved to joke that he had a crush on you. When he had come home for New Year’s, he brought you a souvenir from Iceland, an authentic lopapeysa sweater, made from wool and sewn with a beautiful geometric design.

“Awh, Daeron wants you to stay warm, lovey,” Helaena teased.

“I-It’s just– her hands are always so cold, a-and the wool is supposed to help keep warm! The inner layer is insulating.” Daeron had stammered, the tips of his ears growing red.

“Uncle Daeron has a brush!” Jaehaera squeaked, her words whistling through her tooth gap, she’d lost her first baby tooth just the week before.

“A crush, he’s got a crush!” Jaehaerys corrected softly.

Alicent thought the whole thing very amusing.

That left one child you hadn’t met. You didn’t know much about him aside from small bits of conversation you’d picked up on between the rest of the family. Aegon. The eldest of all of them, and apparently the troublemaker of the bunch. You knew what he looked like from the portraits– blonde hair like the rest but with severely more bags under his eyes. Upon entering the home, one would see the chronological order of family portraits.

It starts with Viserys, Alicent, and baby Aegon; the latter of whom is happy and chubby and bubbly.

Then, it moves to the three of them, plus baby Helaena, with her wide blue-eyed stare at the camera. Aegon is still happy.

The next one adds the addition of baby Aemond– there is a glint of sentience in Aegon’s eyes, but he hasn’t experienced the crushing blows of reality yet.

You weren’t exactly sure, but as he got older, he became more morose– more bags, less light in his eyes. Then came the ear piercings, the tattoos, the head shaving, the bloodshot in the whites of his eyes. The portraits ended with this past year’s Christmas photo. Aegon was noticeably missing from it. You’d heard during one of Alicent’s phone conversations with her father that Aegon was in rehabilitation for a myriad of issues, and looking at his photos, you could only guess which one was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

A particularly harsh clap of thunder broke you from your thoughts, coming back to yourself. You scooped up Jaehaera before she stepped on the carpet with the muddy shoes. “C’mon, let's get cleaned up for lunch, yeah? What do we want for lunch today, lovies?”

“Grilled cheese n’ tomato soup.”

“No! I want mac n’ cheese.”

The squabbling ensued, the twins arguing back and forth for a few moments before you butt in. “Alright, how about– whoever gets the floor the cleanest and puts their galoshes by the washroom the fastest gets to pick?”

The twins squealed in delight as they absconded from your sight, effectively going to do your bidding for you. You would, however, just end up making both meals anyway. As you moved to the kitchen, the sound of the doorbell rang. You bustled to the door, not sure who to expect– there weren’t many roving visitors in and out of the estate unless Alicent was explicitly expecting company– which you had triple checked the calendar when you woke up that morning.

You opened the door, expecting to see a debutante or someone of Alicent’s social circle– ‘twas not the case. You recognized him immediately, seeing his mother’s face in his own. Aegon. He was muddy, dirt flecks splashed on his face as he stood under the stoop trying to get away from the pouring rain. His face was a bit healthier than you’d seen it, the dark circles were still there, but not as prominent. It was like a gloomy day, rather than a full blown storm under his eyes. He had the wisps of a beard starting on his jawline, and his hair was cut into a makeshift mullet, longer in the back.

“Who the fuck are you?” he asked, hands in his pockets.

“Erm– the… the nanny. For the children.” you stammered, his tone catching you off guard. You glanced behind him, seeing a beat up dirt bike caked in mud– that was probably how he got here.

“A nanny? You’re a bit young for that, yeah? My nanny’s were all wrinkly old prunes.”

“Oh– uhm, come in, Mr. Targaryen.”

He perked a brow at the name, but didn’t say anything. He beat the bottom of his boots on the doormat, which didn’t accomplish much. He immediately began to track mud on the floor. “Mum home? Hel?”

“Lady Alicent is… upstairs,” you offered, following behind him at a quick pace. “Helaena is taking a nap– the storm–”

“Yeah, I know ‘bout Hel’s issues with storms. Don’t need to tell me twice. So, you got a name, or are you just the nanny?”

You gave him your name as you glanced at the clock– it was almost time for the children’s lunch and you hadn’t even put it on the stove yet!

“Got any food around here? Fuckin’ famished.” he added then as he nosed around the kitchen, hands still in his pockets.

“I’m just about to make lunch for the twins– uhm, I can make you something too if you’d like.” you walked past him, quickly putting some pots on the stove and starting the gas. You and the twins were on a strict schedule, and if they didn’t get their lunch on time, they would turn into hellions.

“Sure. Whatever the kids are having. I’m not picky.” Aegon waved his hand behind his head as he disappeared from the kitchen and clomped up the stairs, likely to speak with his mother. You fretted for Alicent’s mental state once that was done, and you felt even guiltier for not giving her a heads up.

As the tomato soup heated on the stove and the water began to boil for the macaroni, you unlocked your phone– you were curious about Aegon and why he’d come back, exactly. Well, of course, besides the fact that he lived here (or did, at some point) he was still supposed to be in rehab for another three months. You went to instagram, rolling your eyes as you saw that his profile was on ‘suggested for you to follow!’

You clicked to his most recent photo, the first that he’d posted in over a year.

“Jesus christ,” you muttered under your breath as you put down your phone on the counter to stir the soup.

“Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain,” Aegon teased behind you. When the fuck had he gotten there? “Soup n’ mac and cheese?”

“Tomato soup and grilled cheese for Jaehaera, mac and cheese for Jaehaerys.” you responded plainly, trying not to notice that he was practically breathing down your neck. You glanced over as he leaned on the counter, where you had left your phone. Unlocked. Like an idiot. On his instagram page.

“Curious about me, are you? I’m surprised you haven’t heard enough about me from my mum.”

“I don’t like to pry into Lady Alicent’s affairs–”

“I wouldn’t consider myself an affair, more like a one time fling, eh?” Aegon snorted, grabbing your phone. It took every fiber of your being to not break all sense of decorum you held to snatch it back from him. “You’re not following me– let’s change that,” he mused, beginning to scroll through your page now. “Lots of pictures of the kids here– ooh, a trip to the seaside. There’s no pictures of you on here, eh? Only of… my family n’ other stupid shit, like the ocean.”

“I’m a live-in nanny, sir,” you grit out, stirring the soup with more force than necessary. You consider yourself a patient person, and have become accustomed to how people in the Targaryen’s circle made their jabs. High society and filthy rich people had their own language of insults– ones that you wouldn’t realize they were insulting you until much, much later. It was like a game with a slow burning poison. But Aegon, apparently, was different. There was nothing meticulous about his jabs, no filter, no slow burning poison. It was all punch and sting, like a bite from a rabid dog rather than a viper. “I usually attend family trips.”

“Live-in, huh?” he drawled, his arm leaning over the counter in such a laissez-faire manner that you could feel yourself scowling. “Don’t get much action then, I take it? Let’s see if there’s any nudie judies on here, then…”

“N-no!” you broke then, all sense of manners flying out of your body as you struggled to take back your phone.

“Why so shy? Got something on here you don’t want me to see?” he staved you off, a hand planted firmly on your shoulder as he scrolled through your photos, making all sorts of gaudy faces. You didn’t really have anything overtly scandalous, maybe a few lingerie shots for an old boyfriend.

“Aegon, leave her alone. Give her back her phone.” Alicent’s voice cut through the room like a knife, stunning both of you.

He sheepishly gave you back your phone as she crooked a finger to her son, ushering him to a room on the farther side of the house.

As you fed the twins their lunch, you overheard some yelling, arguing and heated voices. You only saw Aegon later when going to your room to get ready for bed. His eyes were teary and red.

—

The next few weeks went by with some normalcy— everything was as usual, except it was like you had a third child to care for; Aegon. Except this child didn’t listen at all and had terrible habits. He was constantly flirting with you, but also would weave in jabs at the same time— you couldn’t quite tell if he even liked you or not. Not that it mattered, anyway.

You were sneaking in your own lunch one afternoon, eating scraps from the twin’s lunch while they napped— basically just the crust you cut off of the grilled cheese and the small bit of soup left in the pot.

“You eat like a mouse.” Aegon said, always managing to be there to annoy you.

“Too much food makes me tired— I won’t be able to keep up with them if I’m sluggish.”

“Could always drink a red bull or a monster, instead.” he offered, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it in the kitchen.

“You shouldn’t do that inside. It’s bad for the children’s lungs. Lady Alicent says—,”

“Well, it’s my fuckin’ house too, innit? I can smoke in here if I well and bloody like,” he growled, exhaling a puff of smoke into your face. “My mum must be paying you extra to be my nanny too, then? The way you’re up my ass all the time.” he flicked ash in your direction.

You crossed your arms tightly over your chest. He was goading you, baiting you into a reaction. He was being insufferable on purpose. You could tell by his pearly white smile he currently had plastered to his face, like a smug little—

“Never had a nanny so pretty, though,” he continued. “If I asked real nice, would you feed me soup? Dress me up? Give me a bath if I’m real dirty?” he got closer and you could smell him— the smell of marlboro reds and cheap aftershave that had become synonymous with Aegon blew out your senses until it was all consuming.

Your mouth parted as you tried to think of some witty response, some barb, some jab— but nothing came out. You just huffed and turned away from him in an attempt to hide your red cheeks. Why were you blushing?

You could practically hear the cockiness ooze from him, his mouth perked into a cheeky smile as he stole one of the crusts. He knew he’d gotten to you.

—

It’d now been over a month since Aegon moved back home and the building tension between you two hadn’t let up a bit— you constantly felt trapped and elated all at once. When you saw him, your chest fluttered slightly in anxiety and anticipation. What was wrong with you?

It was a dark, gloomy day. The seasonal storms were in full swing, pelting the estate in rain and hail. Alicent, Helaena, and the twins were out on an escapade to Alicent’s father’s house— you guessed Aegon hadn’t gone. But, it was a huge house, so surely you could enjoy some of your time off without seeing him?

A rumble of thunder shook the house, rattling its constitution— and then the lights flickered. Flickered… flickered… then… out. It was dark, then, even with your window shades open. You turned on your phone flashlight and tiptoed out of your room, going to see if perhaps you could smack the backup generator into working.

You hadn’t expected to work today, nor see anyone, as Alicent had given you the day off. So, you were subsequently dressed in your pajamas— a hilariously oversized Bass Pro Shop shirt (a gift from your dad in America) and cat-patterned sleeping shorts. Your toes cracked and creeped on the floorboards with each movement, and to your chagrin, as you passed Aegon’s door, it opened. He was wearing a shirt that said “MILF: Man I love Fishing”, with just his boxer briefs on, which didn’t seem to bother him at all.

“Oh. You’re still here.”

“Yes?”

“Sorry, thought you were gone with the rest. Sad, I can’t do the Saltburn thing now.”

“The… what?”

“The Saltburn thing? Dance around the empty mansion to myself with my cock out.”

“What.” you responded with the most deadpan tone.

“Dance… with my cock out?” he repeated.

“No– I know what you said– but why?”

“Why not?”

You rolled your eyes, shifting the conversation. “So, the power is out– uhm, do you know where the backup generator is?”

“In the wine cellar. Nifty, huh?”

“... the… wine cellar. I can’t say I’ve been down there yet.”

“I know it like the back of my hand, c’mon then. I’m sure I can kick the old gen in the nads and get it to work.” Aegon said with surprising confidence, turning on his phone’s flashlight and half blinding you.

You followed behind him, to which he hummed ‘Murder on the Dancefloor’ while doing a half-assed dance, apparently from some movie that was definitely something you hadn’t watched– you don’t remember the last time you watched a movie that wasn’t geared towards the twins.

“So basically… he had the whole mansion to himself, and then he dances through it with his cock out, hanging massive brain, y’know? It's murder on the dance floor, you better not kill the groove,” he imitates the dance, sprawling his arms out in the doorway to the wine cellar and shaking his bottom a bit, which was, admittedly, nicely fit in his snug boxer briefs. You felt a strange heat flush to your cheeks.

“And this… is a… what? Comedy?”

“Well, categorically no– I’m not a film aficionado. I guess it could be considered a psychological thriller, but I thought it was pretty funny,” he stopped before continuing into the cellar. “It gets pretty hairy in here, so stick close, okay? Ever seen The Conjuring?”

“... yes, actually. Horror movies are kind of my favorite.”

“Ah, a girl after my own heart,” he mused. “Well, think of the basement in that movie, but instead of a bunch of old useless shit, it’s a bunch of old wine.”

“And… instead of ghosts?”

“Oh, there’s definitely ghosts.”

“... what.”

“Yeah, estate is haunted. You haven’t noticed?”

“Shut up.” you murmured. You were a huge fan of horror movies while simultaneously being a huge chicken shit when it came to scary things– you were prone to hiding your face before the big jumpscare or running up the stairs from the kitchen when it was dark, just in case something was chasing you– and your feet had to be covered by the blanket at all times when sleeping.

“Aww, you scared?” Aegon teased, turning to you.

“I mean– ghosts are scary. Of course!” you offered sheepishly, pulling up the collar of your oversized shirt to cover your nose and mouth in an almost hiding manner– a nervous habit of yours.

“I’ll keep you safe, love, no worries about that.”

“... that’s what they always say, right? Then they totally leave behind their girlfriends to get stabbed by the killer or… eaten by the monster.”

“You my girlfriend now?” he asked, that stupidly annoying and somehow charming smug energy exuding off of him in waves.

“Shut up.” you grumbled as you both approached the generator. It was covered in dust and hadn’t been touched or tended to in a long time, it looked like. “Do… you know what you’re doing?” you asked Aegon tentatively, watching as he inspected it.

“Me? Oh, fuck no. I never know what I’m doing, honestly,” he shrugged, giving the metal box a kick and haphazardly pressing some buttons. “No dice, sweetheart. ‘Spose you’ll have to dance in the dark with me for a bit longer, huh? But, if there's a ghost, you'll be... ghost food, or whatever.”

You pinched your brow in annoyance. “I don’t understand you.”

“What’s there to understand? I’m a pretty open book, you know.”

“No– you aren’t. You flirt with me but also… insult me? I don’t get it.”

“It’s called teasing– picking? Picking on? Getting the goat?”

“What? So, like a little boy pulling a girl’s pigtails on the playground because he likes her? That makes absolutely no sense, Aegon.”

“If you spend your time trying to find a reason for it, you’ll go insane. Why not just enjoy the point of it? I like you.” he breathed, suddenly very close to you. He set his phone aside on top of the generator, flashlight up. It illuminated the walls of wine and cast shadows of cobwebs and dust all around the both of you.

“What?”

“Are you deaf– I. Like. You.” he repeated, his knees bumping yours as you were practically glued together, your back now against the ancient stone wall.

Your lips parted as you inhaled a breath– okay, you weren’t exactly expecting him to say that, or even like you at all– you figured the flirting was all hot air, a defense mechanism, something for fun, not… real. Your heart was pounding in your chest and you became all too aware of the fact that you hadn’t been touched since you got this job, maybe even before that– and your previous boyfriends never made you feel… flustered like this. You couldn’t form words as he, uncharacteristically cautiously, put his hand on your cheek. He was so close, so close– his body heat mingled with your inherent coldness and warmed you instantly. You weren’t sure what came over you, but you leaned forward, slotting your lips against his. What the actual fuck were you doing– you were kissing your boss’ son, her notoriously bad mannered, foul mouthed, sloven slob of a son, and you liked it. Your hand instantly went to the back of his head, fingers grazing through his choppy curls– even giving them an experimental tug, which he seemed to enjoy, by the indication of something poking you in your thigh.

His lips moved against yours like a dance, and you couldn’t get the fucking song he was singing earlier out of your head– It’s murder on the dancefloor– you grasped at his hip, it was fleshy and pleasant, the tips of your finger slipping under the elastic of his briefs– But you better not kill the groove– his hands were exploring, too, under your stupid Bass Pro shop shirt, groping at your breasts with reckless abandon – If you think you're getting away, I will prove you wrong – the heat rose in your body until you couldn’t take it any longer, the two of you were practically eating each other alive in this dank, dusty cellar and it was undoubtedly the hottest experience of your life – I'll take you all the way, boy, just come along – your lips parted for a moment, still connected by a string of saliva, bridging the gap between the two of you – Hear me when I say, hey –

“On your knees for me, love?” he asked, his voice suddenly so deep and husky, his thumb skimming over your collarbone.

You fell to your knees for him so quickly– how pathetic. He wriggled down his briefs, already leaking at the fat tip of his cock. He wasn’t overly long, but he was girthy, like a beer can. Your eyes widened, which he must’ve noticed, as his face was plastered with a shit-eating grin. Your mind immediately went to an image of a so-called ‘American delicacy’ (your father’s words, not yours) called Beer can chicken, in which a can of beer is shoved in the ass end of a chicken and grilled. It is apparently as delicious as it is horrifying. Your throat bobbed as you surveyed it, a tentative hand around the base. He shook his head, prying your hand from him.

“Nope, mouth only. Open up, be a good girl.” Aegon muttered, looking down at you, the light of his phone flashlight illuminating him from below– he looked like a God. Or maybe a devil.

Your mouth parted as his hand guided you forward. You wholly expected him to nestle in your mouth, but he surprised you with a slap to your face with his cock. It didn’t hurt, just caused you to yelp in surprise. He smeared some of the pre-come across your cheek, then slapped the head of his length on your waiting tongue. It was somewhat degrading, what he was doing– but it lit a goddamn fire under your ass, the neurons of depravity in your body, wherever they may lie, were alight with each nasty little gesture Aegon gave you, before he finally slid home. It stretched out your mouth, prodding at the back of your throat.

“What would everyone else think, hm? If they knew you were such a fuckin’ slut.” he growled, gathering your hair in his fist like it owed him money, beginning to fuck himself into your mouth, careful to pay attention to your body language to make sure he wasn’t working you over too much. He made sure to be extra careful with his toys, rather than break them.

Tears welled, spilling down your face as you let him use you, degrade you– and yet, he also praised you.

“–such a good girl for me–”

“–you can take a little more, there you go–”

“–prettiest throat I’ve ever fucked–”

You felt like you were on fire, set ablaze by arousal you’d never experienced before– was this what they sang songs about? Dirty, borderline pornographic songs but the point still stood.

You had to chalk it up to the barometric pressure of the storm, right? Aegon wasn’t your type— your type was… well-adjusted, non-addicts, non-bad boy, non-troublemakers. Aegon was the antithesis of what you were into.

And yet— you were into him. You were into him in a pathetic, pitiful way. It made you cringe to think about but you couldn’t resist his puppy dog eyes, nor could you forget the way he was whimpering— fucking whimpering! You squeezed your thighs together slightly at the sound of it, at the blurry-eyed, teary sight of him looking down at you on your knees, eyes half lidded.

He pulled out with a particularly throaty grunt, painting your face in his unnaturally warm seed, somehow careful enough not to get it in your eyes– small mercies. Your lungs inflated with oxygen once more as you caught your breath, trying to gather yourself. You felt the swathe of cloth over your face as Aegon cleaned you up with his ‘MILF: Man I Love Fishing’ shirt, which he had apparently taken off.

“You good?”

You nodded slowly as he helped you to your feet, brushing off your knees with the clean part of his shirt.

“Um– so,” he still held onto you, as if he was afraid you’d run away. “Do you want to watch a movie with me later, when the power is back on? Like, actually watch it– I won’t fuck your face, I promise.”

“... are you asking me on a date?”

“Umm… yeah. I think.”

“Maybe we could watch Saltburn?” you offered with a shrug.

–

“Your mum texted me,” you whispered. “The bridge is temporarily washed out from the storm, they won’t be back ‘til tomorrow.”

“Do you know what that means?” Aegon said, suddenly giddy. You both had just finished watching Saltburn, and you finally understood what the ‘Saltburn thing’ was.

“You know your mum has like ten security cameras set up around the house, right?”

“Okay… and?”

“I’m not dancing naked in the hallway, Aegon.”

“How about just in my room? Please?”

You gave a sigh, beginning to take your clothes off.

“Siri, play ‘Murder on the Dancefloor’ by Sophie Ellis-Bextor.”

‘Okay. Now playing ‘Murder on the Dancefloor’ by Sophie Ellis-Bextor, as featured in Saltburn.’

It's murder on the dancefloor!

But you better not kill the groove, hey-hey, hey-hey!

It's murder on the dancefloor.

But you better not steal the moves.

DJ, gonna burn this goddamn house right down.

#aemondtarqaryenssleepover #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii targaryen fanfic #aegon ii targaryen fanfiction #aegon ii targaryen smut #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii #hotd #house of the dragon #my writing #aegon ii fanfic #aegon ii x you #aegon ii fic #downpour #modern aegon ii #modern aegon ii x reader

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qtssvnwoo · 1 year

Text

Hurt-Ron Weasley

Description: Your relationship with Ron was seemingly going pretty well. You both were happy and all you needed was each other. But, Ron slowly grew more and more distant, without a reason why. And as more fights came, you slowly started to lose it.

A/N: I was actually so excited to get back to writing, so I have a new Ron fic for my angst loving babes.

Word count: 1.6K

Warnings: Mild language, not too excessive, might be structured weirdly cause i’m tired

Part Two

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He was always there before. At the start of your relationship, Ron would be glued to your hip like a baby on a mothers side. He would be with you constantly, talking to you constantly etc etc. You felt like you were on cloud nine when you were with him, which was all the time. Ron never failed to make you smile, you were always laughing and giggling with him, like a little girl. You two were completely and utterly in love. But something changed.

Around the time of the yule ball, tensions got high between Ron and Harry. Ron accused Harry of butting his name in the goblet behind his back, while Harry claimed he did no such thing. You had no idea how such a silly thing could turn into tearing a trio in half, but it had. You had tried to be there for Ron, showing him love and kindness even if he was short and rude to you, you still held your kindness high up, hoping that Ron would see how he was acting towards you and change, but he never saw his fault, and never did change.

It wasn’t until the first fight you had with Ron that made you realize the dreaded truth. That Ron was not going to change anytime soon.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was a cold winter day, and you loved it. You were at peace with the snow falling at your side, hands wrapped up in gloves and necked neatly covered in the red and gold scarf given to you by Ron. You listened as people laughed far off in the distance, but that did not bother you. You were content with sitting in the snow, watching the landscape and taking in your surroundings.

Your harmony was unfortunately interrupted by a very angry Ronald Weasley stomping your way. You immediately knew that it was him when you heard the rough crunching of snow and whispers of incoherent curses coming from his mouth. You turned your head and were met with a bright red, and choleric, Weasley boy.

Sighing to yourself, you turned your body around to face the grumpy ginger, and with a glare he stared at you back.

“What's wrong Ron?” You purposely tried to add a milk and honey texture to your voice, to try and show him that you were trying to help him. Apparently, the message was not sent. Ron glared even harder at you, his frown growing deeper as he rolled his eyes at you and attempted to continue on his pity party journey. You stopped him once more by grabbing his arm, but he didn’t even let you get a word out before his top blew off and he was yelling at you.

“Bloody Hell Y/N! Can’t you see I do NOT want to talk to you right now?” You were taken back by his sudden outburst, he never yelled at you like this, why now?

“Well Ron, I’m trying to help you. You look angry-”

“Yes I’m angry and you nagging me about why I'm angry isn’t helping.”

“Nagging? Ron, I asked you one question.”

“A question I do not feel like answering.”

You didn’t know what to say. You were astonished at the sudden cut-throat attitude of your once so sweet and pleasurable boyfriend.

“God forbid I’m worried about you Ron, am I not allowed to worry about you?” Ron glared at you and took a step forward so you were face to face. You felt the heat of his anger burning off his cheeks and you knew the words about to come out of his mouth were not going to be pleasant ones.

“I don’t need someone worrying about me like I’m a little kid. Get off my back and leave me alone. Can you at least do that right?”

You were frozen. Your words caught in your throat and choked you when you tried to talk. You felt a rush of several different emotions rush through you at once. Anger, sadness, confusion, all of them were racing through you. You looked at Ron’s eyes and searched for any sign of remorse, or hurt. Any sign that he possibly didn’t mean what he had said, but you found none. Nothing was behind his eyes except a blazing fire of anger.

You let him walk away. No words you could muster up would make him turn back and you knew that. You just stood there as you tried to comprehend what he would have meant. So many things ran through your mind as you felt your cheeks grow warm and your eyes start to weld up.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Ever since that day weeks ago, you hadn’t spoken to Ron. Just as he asked you. The yule ball was approaching and you didn’t know if you and Ron were going together or not. You told yourself that it was evident that he would ask you, or that you would just go together since you were his girlfriend, or, you at least thought it was evident. This was until you came across Ron asking a girl to go with him, to which he got rejected. You stood there puzzled, why hadn’t he asked you? You were his girlfriend. You listened as he complained to Harry about not being able to find a date, and this was your turning point.

You hurriedly stomped up to him and turned him around by a quick pull of the shoulder. He looked confused at first, his confusion was followed up by a swift and hard slap to the face. The slap echoed throughout the courtyard and people stopped to look at the origination of the sound, but you didn’t care. You tried to stop yourself from crying as you stood there breathing heavily.

“Bloody hell Y/N! What was that for?!”

“You, You Ronald Weasley are a complete ASSHOLE!” And with your harsh words you shoved him backwards, causing him to fall and stare up at you in wonder, wonder in what he could’ve possibly done to offend you.

“Mate, did you not ask her?” Was all Harry said before you turned yourself around and walked away? Tears stain your cheeks as you try to recollect your breathing.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The yule ball came a week later, and still, Ron could barely even give you a glance. You were, nonetheless, trying to enjoy your night, you wouldn’t let some boy ruin your night. But, throughout the night, you couldn’t help but catch yourself staring at him. He was never looking at you, nor did he try. Of course, this made you sad but a lot of things Ron had done recently made you sad.

You caught your eyes drifting over to Ron once more, and this time, he was glaring at someone. You followed his gaze and your eyes landed on Hermione and Krum dancing together. You looked back between Ron and Hermione and Krum. You couldn’t believe it. He was jealous of Krum. Rage engulfed you and you felt yourself once again crying. Your sudden rage had caused you to squeeze your glass a little too tight. The sound of breaking glass caused Ron to look over at you, and a couple people as well followed his gaze. You stared Ron down, the pain from your heart outnumbered the pain in your hand. You felt blood rush down your arm, a result of the glass cutting deep into your hand.

You kept looking at Ron, and he kept looking at you. He saw the blood falling and decided it was best if he got up to check on you, but as he got closer you shook your head, repeatedly saying no as you tried to push him away. He was confused about this, and still advanced further. Your series of no’s got louder and louder until you shouted at him. The shout was lost in the music, and you looked at Ron with hateful eyes.

“Y/N, you’re hurt. Please let me take you to Madam Pomfrey.” His voice sounded so genuine, and for a second you thought he truly did care for you. He reached out his arms to hold your bleeding hand, but, just as you were about to give your hand to him, you caught him taking a quick glance over his shoulder, in the direction of Hermione and Krum.

“NO. FUCK you, Ronald Weasley. FUCK you. I HATE YOU.” You walked backward, the words you were speaking were foreign to you, you had never told him you hated him, and you felt incredibly bad for it, but at the moment, it felt like it needed to be said. He looked hurt as he slowly put his hands down at his sides and stared at you in disbelief.

“I wish I never dated you, Ronald Weasley. I hate you.”

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You sat in your room, your hand still moderately bleeding through the cloth around it. You thought back on the words you had said to Ron. You knew you didn’t mean a word you said. But, seeing the way he stared at Hermione and Krum set you off. You could tell he wanted to be Krum, he wanted to be in his place. And the way he looked at Hermione? God, you had felt like he had ripped your heart out and laughed as he stomped on it.

He had never looked at you like that, with such adoration, compassion, and with such love. The mere thought of this made you sob, your makeup running down your face as the moonlight hugged you in the red dress that you had gotten just for him.

You planned on staying in your room all night, crying your guts out until you cried yourself dry and fell asleep. But, unexpectedly you heard a quiet voice saying your name, and a knock at the door.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

#Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter angst #harry potter x reader #harry potter x reader fluff #harry potter x reader angst #Ron Weasley #ronald weasley #ron weasly imagine #ron weasly x reader #ron wealsey x y/n #ron weasley x you #ron weasley x reader angst #harry potter x you

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stevesbestgirl · 10 months

Text

Phases of the Moon - Part 1

Steven Grant x f!Reader, eventual Marc Spector x f!Reader

2796 words

Warnings: poor imitations of British speaking habits, not much else in part one, maybe a few curses but I’m not sure

A/N: This was my attempt to write a slow-burn. It’s long, self-indulgent, and obscenely fluffy. Reader is specified as American, but mostly so I can avoid pretending I know anything about living in the UK. Steven and Marc are aware of each other and trying to find balance in their relationship in this fic, but keep in mind that I am not a system and am not an expert. All of my information about their relationship comes from the Moon Knight show and I use that as my reference point.

*Bold type is spoken by Marc when Steven is fronting.*

Masterlist

“Go talk to her.”

“Well I can’t, can I?” Steven sent a furtive glance at you, toying absently with your phone while you examined the glyphs inside a display.

“Why can’t you?”

“She’s got earphones in.”

Marc scoffed in the glass of one of the display cases, “Always an excuse.”

“I can’t just interrupt her, that’d be rude!”

“Not if she’s interested.”

Steven’s reply was cut short as a pair of boys came rushing around the corner, laughing and shoving each other- Steven wouldn’t have placed them at older than twelve. He watched helplessly as one firm push sent the smaller of the two reeling into your backside. Completely oblivious to their noise, you went sprawling, headphones disconnecting as your phone hit the ground and was sent skittering across the polished floor, coming to rest at Steven’s feet.

Inhibitions gone, Steven scooped your phone up and rushed over, offering a hand to help you up, “Are you okay?” You nodded, feeling a little embarrassed. “You lot,” he called out, locating the pair sidling off behind a diorama, “C’mere.”

They looked like they were considering bolting, but the smaller of them located Steven’s badge and took a reluctant step forward. By the time they stood in front of you, they were looking rather cowed, like puppies who’d been caught gnawing a slipper.

“Shape up, you hear? You could’ve really hurt someone.”

“Sorry.”

“Yeah, sorry.”

“Now listen, down that corridor there, there’s a bunch of old weapons; spears, cudgels, daggers, the like. How about you go give it a look?” You watched him speak to the two boys; his enthusiasm seemed very genuine, not the fake kind adults often used with children.

The taller boy hesitated before leaving, “What’s a cudgel?”

Steven smiled a little, “Why don’t you go on and find out?” Then the two rushed in the direction he’d indicated and he called after them, “Slowly, hm?”

Once they were out of sight, you finally spoke, “Are you sure that was a good idea? Sending them in there with a bunch of weapons?” You couldn’t help but smile as he unconsciously smoothed his dark, nearly sleep-tousled curls back from his face.

His intent had been to chuckle, but it came out as more of an empty puff of air, “They’re all under glass- should be alright.” He added, “Maybe I’ll pop in to check on them, just in case.” Nervous now, he looked down at his hands, still holding your phone, “Oh, there you are.” Your expression fell and only then did he notice the spiderweb of cracks in the bottom corner where it had hit the floor, “Oh no.”

You shook your head, accepting the phone and dropping it to your side, like putting it out of sight would make him forget, “It’s alright. Just a screen protector. I’ll get a new one eventually.”

“Sorry about that, love,” he insisted, his earnest gaze finally meeting yours just in time for your face to go warm. You’d thought you’d been ready to hear the term of endearment used so casually when you came to England, but apparently not.

“It’s alright,” you rushed to speak. “Definitely not your fault. Thanks for helping me-” you glanced at his name tag, “-Steven.”

“No problem- it is my job after all,” he cracked a halfhearted smile.

“You were great with those kids too.”

Rosy warmth tinged his cheeks and his gaze shifted away, “Thanks.” A small pause, “Your accent- you’re American?”

You nodded, “Needed a change of scenery, so I’m staying with some family for a while. Just got in yesterday, actually.”

His gaze eagerly lifted to yours again, but flicked away over your shoulder and he went slightly pale. Glancing back, you saw a stocky woman with dirty blonde hair gesturing impatiently at him.

Returning his gaze to you, he looked a bit panicked, “I’m sorry, I’ve gotta go. I- ah-” He tripped over his words and almost tripped almost his feet as well, veering around you and backing away toward the woman beckoning him over.

You raised your hand in an uncertain farewell as he stammered his way backwards, gesturing faintly over his shoulder with his thumb in a faint attempt at an explanation. Once he was within range, the woman seemed to be lighting into him a bit, though his gaze hadn’t yet left you. It wasn’t until she snapped her fingers that he looked at her.

Not wanting to spy, you turned away, checking your phone for the time. When Steven glanced your way again, he only caught your retreating form disappearing out the entrance. For once, Donna’s criticisms didn’t affect him since he was already kicking himself for not asking you out. Or getting your phone number. Or even your name. He’d blown it.

The following day, you had a bit more time to explore the museum, so you returned. And you noted with dismay, when the cabbie called you “love”, you didn’t so much as blink, let alone blush. Maybe it had been a one-off thing. Now you would be immune.

Walking in and spotting the woman from before at the front desk, you plucked up a bit of courage and approached. Her name tag read “Donna” and she prompted with visible disinterest, as though she were reading off a script, “Welcome. Is there something I can direct you to?”

Deciding to push forward, you said, “Actually, I was just in here yesterday. I ran into a bit of trouble with a couple of young boys and one of your tour guides helped me. I wanted to let you know that Steven was very polite and just lovely with those kids-”

“Stevie? He isn’t a tour guide,” Donna interrupted, wrinkling her nose. “In his dreams, maybe.”

“But he does work here?”

“Yeah, he’s the gift shoppist.” She was still being very flippant; it was clear that she’d barely had interest in this conversation to begin with and now that it was about Steven, it had dwindled to none.

“Right. Thank you.” You forced a smile and nodded before heading off in the direction of the gift shop.

The counter was empty when you first walked into the room, sending a tiny shoot of disappointment into your chest. You wanted to thank him, since it didn’t appear that you could score him any points with his boss.

You wondered for a moment if you should come back later, but then a shaggy, brown mop of hair sprung up from behind the counter, triumphantly brandishing what appeared to be a large, amber-colored marble with a bone inside it, “Got ya, you little bugger.”

His gaze fell on you and he tucked the marble behind his back, like it was something to hide, “You- you came back.”

You reached into your bag, pulling out the brochure you’d picked up yesterday, “I was only passing through yesterday.” You unfolded the brochure and showed him the notes you’d taken on the map, detailing where you wanted to go first and which exhibits had caught your eye, “I like to plan a little bit.”

He followed the line you traced with your finger intently, raising his gaze to your face when you pulled away, “That’s a good way to go about it. The tour is pretty good too.” Steven’s heart skipped as your lips pulled into a slight frown; had he said something wrong?

“Speaking of the tour, I tried to put in a good word for you with your boss- as thanks, for yesterday- she doesn’t seem to like you very much.”

“Oh, yes. Donna and I have got a bit of a rocky history.” He added quickly, “Not a history, mind you. More like a boss/employee history. I’ve got a bit of a bad track record with my punctuality, actually,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Well, I think you’d make a lovely tour guide, for what it’s worth.”

There was another one of those long pauses; you were about to offer a meek “Thanks again,” and cut your losses when he spoke up, “If you like, I’m on a break in ten minutes. I could show you around.”

You’d insisted to yourself that this wasn’t why you came back here, but you found yourself nodding, a faint smile on your lips, “I’d like that.”

Steven seemed even more surprised than you were, nodding quickly, “Great- that’s- great.” He nodded again, “I can meet you in the ‘King’s Tomb’ exhibit.” He pointed, “Right over there-” He checked his watch, “-in nine minutes.”

Your smile widened, “See you in nine minutes then.” You moved off in the direction he’d indicated, the temptation to look back gnawing at you.

“Wait!” he called after you. You turned back, “I haven’t got your name.”

“You haven’t needed it, have you?”

Now you were teasing and you knew it. But you could feel his eyes on you as you disappeared around the corner and you smiled to yourself. So much for doing your own thing. The whole reason for coming to London was to get away from men- although you supposed it was more one man than men in general. But something about Steven just caught your eye.

So you waited out the impossibly long eight minutes remaining until Steven walked in, looking in a bit of a rush. You watched him scan the exhibit, almost like he’d expected you to have left by now.

You raised a hand, “Steven.” He positively lit up at the sight of you, relief visible in the heavy exhale he released- like he'd been holding his breath.

You met him in the center of the room, clasping your hands behind your back in anticipation. Steven still had the remnants of a grin on his face, though he mirrored your posture, a bit of enthusiasm escaping as he bounced on the balls of his feet, just once, “What do you want to see?”

“You’re my tour guide, you tell me,” you teased.

Almost instantly, his face flushed, “Well, I wasn’t sure if there were specific displays you wanted to look at or certain subjects you were interested in, you know? Since I've only got fifteen minutes on my break.”

“Well, I’m interested in everything, but since we only have fifteen minutes; how about you show me the way you’d start your tour if you were a guide?” His cheeks darkened further and you had to bite the inside of your cheek not to smile again. But he surprised you, recovering quickly and placing his hand on your arm. He steered you over to one of the displays and you glanced at him, “The Ennead?”

The Ennead,” he corrected your pronunciation. “The Egyptian Gods.” He wheeled around so his back was to the exhibit, his gaze meeting yours with ease. “Everything about Egypt comes back to the gods one way or another, so to understand Egypt, you have to understand them.”

He walked you through the exhibit, one god or goddess at a time, his hands moving animatedly as he talked. And he was good at it, in a different way than you’d expect. He had such a wealth of knowledge- you felt comfortable asking questions because you expected him to have the answers. And he answered many of your questions before you could even ask them; his explanations were pretty comprehensive.

It was all strangely charming, actually. His enthusiasm was so genuine, it was as though he invited you inside it with him. It was a nice place to be- like sharing a secret. It was also putting you in dangerous territory; a magnetic field that would be hard to pull yourself from.

Once you were about halfway through the eleven, you tentatively raised your hand. Steven faltered slightly, giving you the chance to speak up, “Two things- I just want to check the time, I’d hate for you to be-”

“Late-” he checked his watch faster than you could pull out your phone.

You grabbed his hand, pulling him back toward the gift shop, “Well, come on then, I don’t want you getting into trouble!”

Steven’s long strides quickly outpaced you; you had to hurry to keep up, a laugh at the ridiculousness of it slipping out. Steven glanced back- nearly shouldering a display case. Right before impact, his back straightened a bit, like he sensed it coming, and he just twisted out of the way. It was so smooth you wouldn’t have noticed the deft movement if you hadn’t been anticipating the collision.

By the time you skidded to a halt in front of the gift shop counter, you were full-on giggling; you couldn’t remember the last time you’d laughed so hard over almost nothing. “Sorry about that,” Steven offered meekly.

You took a breath and collected yourself a bit, though you still felt the warmth of the laughter in your cheeks, “Don’t be- it was fun.”

“What was the other thing?” he asked, shuffling back behind the counter.

“Hm?”

“You said there were two things, the time and what else?”

“Oh! Well that exhibit was called the ‘King’s Tomb,’ right? Why are the gods in that one?”

He leaned on the counter, some of his timid demeanor vanishing, “Well, the pharaohs were considered to be gods by their people. So they put them in a room together. And since the mummies are what brings in the crowds, they get the-” he clicked his tongue, framing a little marquee with his fingers, “-title spot.”

“I suppose you know quite a lot about those too?”

He gave a chagrined smile, “Did I go on a bit much then?”

You shook your head, “Not at all- I wasn’t teasing. I wish we’d had time to do the whole exhibit.”

“I’d wager with me giving it, that tour would take all week,” he joked, feeling like he’d done too much talking during your time together.

You shrugged, “I’m on vacation.” Smiling, you added, “Or holiday, you’d probably call it.”

He smiled weakly at the joke, seeming to be working out what you’d meant. He scanned your face, as though nervous he was misreading you, but you just smiled at him. “I’m scheduled again on Thursday, I could- if you like, I mean- I could show you some more. Of the exhibit. Obviously. If you want.”

You were here for freedom. You’d come all the way to another country so you could do what you wanted, when you wanted, no strings attached. But, you reasoned, this wasn’t dating. This was an exclusive tour, on Steven’s break. It wasn’t like he was taking you out to dinner.

You were bargaining; whittling away your rules to nothing because they no longer suited your purposes. You knew that. And you also knew that you only did so because Steven was, very clearly, a large string. A large string with lovely, brown, puppy eyes and enough passion for Egypt to make a pharaoh blush. But you nodded anyway, “I’d love to come back. Same time?”

He seemed stunned by your acceptance, but he nodded rapidly to overcompensate for the moment of hesitation, “Yeah. My break is at three.”

You smirked, “How many minutes from now?”

He stared at you for a moment- you almost wondered if he was trying to do the math, but then he flushed and gave a weak chuckle, “Right, I’ll work on that one.”

You pulled out the brochure you’d picked up yesterday and a pen from your bag, “Since I won’t be needing this anymore-” You scribbled down your name and number and slid the brochure across the table, “Text me when you figure it out.” No strings, you reminded yourself.

He gave another hurried nod, “Okay, I will, I-”

You got a sense of deja vu as Steven glanced over your shoulder and paled in nearly the exact same way he had yesterday. “Is it Donna?” You quickly scanned the counter, grabbing a stuffed hippopotamus, “Because I’d like to purchase this.” You deliberately moved it across the counter where Donna would be able to see and pulled out your wallet.

Now Steven looked back to you, “You don’t have to do that. Most of this stuff if junk-”

“I want to. This one is kind of cute.” You held out the money, “And you’ll tell me all about it next time?”

He nodded, a small smile returning to his face, “Yeah, I will.” He handed back your change and the plush, speaking up so Donna could hear, “Enjoy the rest of your afternoon.”

You smiled, “Same to you.”

You left the other way so Donna wouldn’t see your face, hoping she wasn’t descending on Steven for being late from his break. You held the little hippo plushie to your chest and thought ahead to Thursday.

#moon knight x reader #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #moon knight #steven grant #marc spector #moon knight fanfic #moon knight fic #moon knight fluff #steven grant fluff #phases of the moon series

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sylveon-official · 2 months

Text

Huskerdust mpreg wip 3

Part 2 here!

Lucifer chews on the finger of his glove as he mumbles, looking back and forth between Angel perched on the bed and the ultrasound pictures in his hand. Charlie sits beside him in an unwavering show of support, but the nervous shake of her hand clasped in his isn’t really helping.

“Ohhh. Mmm, okay, I see. Oh boy… again?”

“Again?” Angel and Charlie cry out, shooting worried looks at one another.

“What the fuck do you mean again? This happen often? Isn’t not being able to get knocked up supposed to be, like, divine punishment around here?!”

Of course, Angel had always considered that logic a bit backwards, especially with his profession. He had no idea how demon biology really worked, but he’d seen enough visibly pregnant Hellborns of myriad genders in his time in Hell to be secretly grateful he’d never had to worry about it. Well, until now.

“Well, yes…” Lucifer scratches the side of his cheek, gaze nervously flitting from side to side. “But, you see, from time to time we have experienced… let’s call them… little miracles, here in the Pride Circle!”

Angel scoffs, about to reply with scathing comment about the contradiction when Charlie places a steady hand on his shoulder and gently cuts in, “When is the last time this happened, Dad?”

Lucifer blows out a breath, and tuts his tongue as he counts on his fingers. “Oh, maybe 1000 years ago? Give or take. Doesn’t happen so often, could probably count the amount of times it has on two hands, but —?”

Angel groans. Lucifer or not, this guy has a way of beating around the bush that Angel sure doesn’t appreciate.

“Come on, cut to the chase shortstack - Why?” Angel asks, exasperated.

Charlie reprimands him lightly with a gasp of his name while Lucifer zeroes in on him with a narrow glare.

“I’m going to chalk that one up to hormones, and let that one slide.”

When Angel simply shoots him a dull look, Lucifer quickly gathers up his broken ego and carries on, this time in a more serious tone, “Listen, I wish I had an answer for you kid, but… I’ve never really been able to figure it out myself.”

Angel quickly deflates, sudden heat building up behind his eyes again. Great. Not only is he the first pregnant Sinner Demon in a Millenia, but he doesn’t even get an explanation?

Apparently sensing his downturn in mood, Charlie squeezes Angel’s hand and pries further, “Dad, if this has happened more than once, there has to be something you know. Even a just a theory?”

Lucifer hesitates, fiddling with his cane. “Well… there is one I’ve considered, but… don’t put too much stock into it,” he explains defensively, and Angel looks back up at him, tentatively intrigued.

“So, you know how conception happens… up there, right?” Lucifer cups his hand around his mouth and whispers conspiratorially.

Angel furrows his brows. “No, how the fuck should I-”

“Oh, um!” Charlie cuts in, her own brow furrowed in thought. “Something about ‘built-in’ birth control, right? You and your partner will only conceive if it’s something you both long for. So romantic!” She swoons, pressing her cheek against Angel’s shoulder. She quickly rights herself to add to her father’s assessment, “So if that’s how it works with Redeemed Souls, then maybe… maybe it doesn’t matter whether you’re in Heaven or Hell, since now we know that’s a total crapshoot… maybe it has to do with the goodness inside of the soul itself!”

Angel’s eyes narrow as he parses the words in his head, refusing to acknowledge the latter half of Charlie’s rambling.

“So lemme get this straight… you’re tellin’ me, this is literally some ‘when two people love each other very much’ kinda bull shit?! Who the fuck would I—”

Angel’s voice gets stuck in his throat as a very clear image of of the potential culprit poofs into his mind's eye.

Luckily, Lucifer and Charlie take his short-circuiting as general shock. Charlie coos and pulls him close while Lucifer backtracks, “Like I said, it’s just a theory - I’ve got no proof to back it up. For all I know, this is the Big Whatever Upstairs’ way of fuckin’ with us—”

Angel stands up, ignoring the way Lucifer flinches as he towers over him and Charlie face-plants onto the bed without his support.

“I gotta go,” Angel says, balling his hands up into fists, nails digging into his palms uncomfortably.

He swipes the photos from off of his desk, throws open the door and briskly walks down the hallway, Charlie’s worried shouts falling on deaf ears.

He takes the stairs to the lobby two by two, picking up his pace so he doesn’t lose his nerve by the time he reaches his destination.

When he stalks up to the bar, heart pounding and out of breath, Husk simply glances up from the glass he’s polishing and plasters on a teasing, lopsided grin, just like he's done every time Angel has stormed up to his bar at any and all hours of the day and night.

Husk cocks his head and lifts a brow, the deep timbre vibrating across the walls, “Wanna talk about it, Legs?”

Angel’s heart thumps and his cheeks flood with heat.

“Fuck.”

#lmao using worldbuilding as an excuse to explain the mechanics of mpreg #sh #i already kNOW #huskerdust #husk x angel dust #angel dust x husk #husk hazbin hotel #angel dust hazbin hotel #angel dust #mpreg #writing

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babeeangel · 10 months

Text

a toxic side of your relationship pt3.

babababa, a small last part to this series, with underrated characters~

Oliver Aiku, Yo Hiori, Hyoma Chigiri, Ranze Kurona

angsty short texts (fluff?) (<100w\character). [pt1 included: isagi, rin, sae, shidou, bachira, reo, otoya, kaiser, kunigami] [pt 2 included: lorenzo, nagi, barou, yukimiya, karasu, ness]

Aiku neglects you. He puts very little effort into entertaining you. Not even because you’re low maintenance, but just because he gets lazy and inconsiderate. You kinda feel ignored, and it’s hard when you see how he likes to make other girls believe they have a chance with him. Maybe he’s keeping open options for himself.

Niko is sneakily dogmatic. He low-key believes he found the answer of life, so everything he does is the ‘best’ way possible. Sometimes things will be completely subjective but he’ll try to change your mind, by any ways possible: paralogisms, guilt-tripping or straight up boring scientific facts. If it’s the ‘absolute-most-efficient way of cutting an apple’, you won’t mind, but sometimes it comes to more touchy subjects, like the place of women in society ;). And you hate how he secretly tries to push an agenda on you.

Hiori infantilizes you. Not necessarily in a patronizing, condescending i-know-better-than-you way, but in a i’ll-guide-you way. He tends to baby talk to you and take decisions on your behalf. He likes to know everyone's whereabouts, and he’ll always question what you state, because he apparently can’t fathom that you know things he doesn't.

Chigiri has no boundaries, or, he doesn't respect yours. Whether it’s days when you don't want to be touched, subjects you don’t like being brought up publicly, or duties you prefer fulfilling by yourself, he won’t really listen. He likes to text you always, suffocating you.

Kurona doesn't share. As in, he won’t tell you how he feels -good or bad- or what he wants. Even silly things, he won’t take the initiative of telling you the funny thing that happened at work. And even when you ask him, it feels like you have to force infos out of him.

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texankat · 7 months

Text

The Angel’s Demon💋

“That’s not how it is-“ Jenna began before you cut her off “A Angel, fond of a Demon, ain’t that the story of the century?” You snorted

Warnings: a little forbidden love/I want to punch you square in the face?

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: I honestly enjoyed writing this one a lot, it was nice to get into detail about the sillies and their cool little features. Anyways, enjoy loves!

———————————————————————

Jenna wasn’t the nicest thing from Heaven as far as you could tell, you loved to mess with the lives of mortals when given the chance and it was honestly quite funny to you. But of course some “higher power” had to interfere with your fun and always cut it short, and that higher power was Jenna. She 100% despised you and would rather do anything else than have to even see you, but of course- you wouldn’t allow that. You constantly pestered her just to get on her nerves and god were you good at it.

“How come you always seem to go after the human’s who already have it bad?” Jenna questioned, her nose scrunched in disgust as you walked down a dark alley having possessed yet another human for the 3rd time this week (you accidentally killed the other 2, though you only say it was a accident so Jenna wouldn’t get extra angry at you again-) “Because why would I let someone like you save their life and turn them into a valuable soul?” You questioned back as you looked over to her as you continued walking.

Jenna had more of a Ghostly look to her, sure she had Wings but she didn’t have those stupid robs all the older and more powerful Angels wore, she looked like a plain girl who was just a little glowy around the edges. You continued walking down the alley as she followed suit, hovering close by. “The only reason I’m here is to make sure you’re not causing anymore problems for me to clean up after later on, just to be clear.” Jenna suddenly squeaked, as you looked over to her, suspicion in your eyes. “Sure….” You giggle as you gave a sly smirk to her, leaning over to her a bit “or- you just can’t get enough of me….” You cooed out, giggling at her flustered expression, you knew just how to get under her skin like that.

“That’s not how it is-“ Jenna began before you cut her off “A Angel, fond of a Demon, ain’t that the story of the century?” You snorted as Jenna was fuming, glaring at you before huffing in frustration and turning away from your teasing eyes “Whatever…“ You gave a pleased chuckle before overlooking the specimen you had chosen today before groaning, You had really bruised and beaten this body up… You suddenly part from the human, a soft mist that was apparently your very soul in some context slowly spewing from their lips as you then took your original form again, leaving the unconscious body on the floor. You turn to look at the person before bending down a bit and leaning closer, then you tap their forehead.

“What on earth are you doing?” Jenna cocked an eyebrow before her feet slowly met the ground as she tilted towards the unconscious person as you continued to rest your finger on their head, you look over to Jenna as your hunched over a bit- holding your legs close to your chest as your barb tipped tail flicked about “Making sure they’re not dead?-“ Jenna frowns a bit as her nose then scrunches again as she sighs and backs away as you stood back up, looking over to her with a cocky smile. “Are you still gonna Watch over me and make sure I don’t cause any more messes? Or are you just gonna leave me all alone?” You gave a small pout as your tail swayed side to side, curling as you spoke, catching Jenna’s attention for a moment before she looked back to your eyes and opens her mouth to speak- though the words seem to get caught in her throat before she closes her mouth again glancing away.

For the first time in what felt like- ever you actually felt like you had gotten to her this time, she knew that she was only supposed to come down and spectate when it was necessary but you and her both knew very well anytime you were hiding amongst any humans for any reason she would find out and play and game of cat and mouse with you, more or less. Her wings twitched about nervously as she pulled them closer to her body as she continued to ignore answering your question, you finally sigh softly and shrug it away with a small smile before you began to walk off to some secluded area so you could get yourself back to the nether world. You as you walked you felt Jenna’s presence erring close by, causing you glance over your shoulder to look at her.

You were only a few steps ahead as she followed behind, she was trying to make it seem nonchalant but you knew better than to poke fun at her for following you- anytime you’ve done that you’ve ended up being by yourself again after a few minutes, so you just let her. The silence continued for a few moments as you both walked through the desolate streets of whatever town you had ended up in this time, you and Jenna both looked human enough to just walk around and just be labeled as a cosplayer of the sorts. Luckily though, it was in the late of the night and not a soul was out or awake at this time, so you had nothing to worry about today. Jenna had made her way to your side so you both comfortably walked side by side, neither of you wanted to be the one who made a bit of small talk so it was just a gentle silence. After a few minutes you finally found a spot that seemed to work for hopping back into the “underworld” that wouldn’t release little hell rats or other creatures that would get you in trouble.

As you drew your little summoning circle Jenna watched close by, she was pouting a bit as she watched you, you honestly weren’t sure why she as so frustrated with you leaving this time but it was pretty entertaining for you. You finished up the circle as you looked back to her, noticing how clean and pearly white her feathered wings looked, you were honestly pretty fascinated by it before you shook your head clear and walked up to her with a smirk. “What are you pouting about now? Not getting a good bye kiss or something?” You teased as Jenna’s face flushed heavily “NO!-“ She snapped back as her wings ruffled and puffed up defensively, you snickered under your breath as you crossed your arms at her. You both stared at each other for a few moments before you leaned down to her eye level and gave a cocky grin “you sure….?~” you giggle as Jenna’s cheeks were burning red at this point, her wings staying in their defensive state, your tail flicking back and forth in a bit of pride. “Just go back to where you came from already….” She growled softly as you nodded your head “Yes ma’am…” you smile softly before turning away and pressing the summoning circle you had drawn with your foot before looking back to her “can you come here for a second?” Jenna hesitated before walking up to you, her wings finally falling down from their perked up position from earlier.

You leaned down to her level again, pausing for a second before smiling and ruffling her hair “your the only angel I tolerate you know?” You chuckle softly as Jenna swatted at your hand messing with her hair “yeah yeah whatever- now go before I get into trouble…” she rolled her eyes at you as you shrugged and turned back to the open summoning circle and hopped in, the small portal closing shortly after. Leaving Jenna by herself- She sighed in a mix of things, frustration, anger, but also sad and lonely. Angels aren’t meant to love Demons, they were enemies, it was a well known fact, even humans wrote about it… she felt so lost, her heart told her one thing but the way of God’s laws would have made anything possible- not possible.

Jenna’s wings delicately wrapped around her body as she sighed, she missed your snarky responses and snappy attitude, it was admirable to see that from you. I mean a Demon being that way is natural but something about you made it seem so much more interesting… she tightened her wings around her slightly, a gentle sigh escaping her as she began to wish of seeing you. She knows it’s not what’s meant to happen or even should but-

Everytime she sees you she starts wishing it was your arms hugging her instead of her own wings.

part 2

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #gender neutral reader #demon x angel #angel x reader #forbidden romance

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dandelionprints · 1 year

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More Than Enough

(Tommy Shelby One Shot)

As some of you will know if you’ve seen any of my posts, I’ve not had any motivation to write and have really felt my inspiration dwindling on a daily basis. I had a little bit of that motivation come back to me this evening so I thought I’d use it to write this short one shot. It was quite hard to write as I feel like my self belief is at a low right now so I was questioning myself a lot when writing it but fuck it, I’ve finally completed a WIP after weeks of not writing, I hope you enjoy!

Day had slowly turned into night in what had felt like only a matter of minutes in your bedroom, the only light now coming from the fireplace and a lamp that was lit on your desk. The comfort of the fire warmed you as the air grew cold.

Piles of invitations were laid upon the wooden surface with various addresses to the wealthiest people within England and Scotland. This charity ball had better get you a lot of fucking money after all the time you’d put into it, not to mention the cramp that was now very apparent in your fingers.

“Come to bed love, it’s getting late”, Tommy whispered against your shoulder before moving the strap of your nightie to the side and gently laying a kiss on your bare skin.

“I will my love, I’ve just got a few…”, you began, getting cut off swiftly by an exasperated sigh from your husband that caught you off guard.

“Y/N, you’ve been at this for hours, you need to get some rest. I would also like to spend some time with my wife. Please, come to bed”

You turned to look at him standing there in just his boxer shorts, a look of pleading in his expression. Those eyes of blue almost boring right through you, making you melt like they had the first day you’d made contact with them.

You sighed feeling guilty, “I know, Tom. But if I don’t do it then who the fuck will? They’re meant to be delivered to everyone tomorrow and I feel like if they’re not perfect then I’ll be judged even more than I already am”

A wave of insecurity swept over you unexpectedly. Fuck you hated that feeling, never feeling like the life you’d married into was something you deserved. The money, the big house, the handsome gangster husband. None of it.

“Who do you think is judging you, the people invited?”, his eyebrow raised as he took a step toward you, kneeling at your side, “don’t take any notice of what they say, they’re all twats in expensive suits”

You nodded your head and averted his gaze, instead choosing to pick a spot on the floor to focus on.

“I know what they say, Tom. ‘What’s a girl like that doing with a man like him? A former peasant girl who used to have to beg for scraps on the street? She’s probably only with him for the money! Oh, and the maids too, they do everything for her’”

“Who have you heard say that? You tell me and I’ll send Arthur round to have a chat with them, no one talks about my wife like that!”

He stood with his fists balled at his sides, his knuckles white from the tension. Grabbing his arm you pulled yourself up and squeezed him gently, his muscles tight under your grip.

“No! Please don’t, it’s not a big deal”, you used your free hand to bring his face towards yours, “All I’m saying is I’m well aware that they don’t think highly of me. I just want to show them I’m no longer that peasant girl who had to beg for food and money, that I’m capable of organising a charity event and doing as much for it on my own as I can without the help of staff or other influences. I want them to know I work hard, Tom”

He hadn’t taken his eyes off you the whole time you’d been speaking, too fixated on every word you were saying. He brought his hands up to either side of your face and cupped your cheeks.

“You work harder than any of those fuckers that are invited, the only reason they’re on the guest list is cause they have money, and lots of it. They don’t have a clue what shit you went through to end up on the streets or how we met, which if I remember rightly wasn’t when you were still having to sleep in the gutters. They don’t know fuck all about anything, none of them do”, he said, stroking your cheeks with his thumbs.

Bringing your hands up you held onto either one of his wrists, your thumb on the back of his hand.

“I know love, I just want to show I’m enough. Enough to be deserving of this life we’ve built. Enough to be with you when there are so many other beautiful women out there who would drop their knickers for you with just a snap of your fingers”

He chuckled then before his expression turned soft, moving his face closer to yours, hands still cupping your cheeks.

“Darling, you’re more than enough. You always have been”

His lips connected with yours in a soft swoop, holding themselves there for a while before curving up into a smile.

You smiled back feeling a rush of warmth in your chest, the butterflies fluttering around in your stomach making themselves known.

“Now c’mon, bed”

This time you didn’t have a choice in the matter as he swiftly swept you up into his arms and carried you towards the bed. You giggled as you wrapped your arms around his neck, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours, the signature smell of whiskey and cigarettes moving to your nose.

Placing you down onto the bed he knelt over you and kissed you again, this time with more passion.

“I think it’s time I show you just how wrong those people are, how it’s really me who is unworthy to be with you, Mrs. Shelby”

The firelight continued to flicker, casting shadows around the room, the plans of finishing the invitations now well and truly gone.

Right here in this very moment, in your big expensive house, on the expensive Egyptian cotton bedding beneath you on your expensive four poster bed, the only thing that mattered was that the love of your life truly believed that you had always been enough, no matter what.

————

Tagged: @peakypoet @moral-terpitude @lyarr24 @cillmequick @mrkdvidal1989 @shelbydelrey @alasya16 @tommystargirl @elenavampire21 @adaydreamaway08 @slaypussypop-21 (unable to tag) @bluesongbird @zablife @cljordan-imperium @look-at-the-soul @rangerelik

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby one shot #tommy shelby x you #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x y/n #peaky blinders #cillian murphy

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candycandy00 · 7 months

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Pick Me Up - A Gojo x Reader x Geto Halloween Fanfic Part 1

Gojo and Geto are two serial killers who enjoy seducing their victims before killing them. Every year on Halloween they have a friendly competition, and this year the target they both choose is you.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

The first two parts will be fairly short and just serve to set up the way these two operate. The third part starts the “main part”. Any feedback or comments are greatly appreciated! Divider by @violetbudd

Smut. 18+. Fem Readers. Implied death/blood/gore (“offscreen” for now). Consensual sex. Gojo and Geto are both bisexual. First part is Gojo x Reader only. Geto will be the focus of part 2.

Unbelievable. You left your house with nearly a full tank of gas. Now, just thirty minutes later, your car is running on fumes on the darkest, loneliest highway in the area. You even double checked when you stopped at that gas station just outside of town to grab snacks.

You’re on your way to one of several Halloween parties taking place this weekend in the days leading up to the actual holiday. This one was supposed to be one of the best, out on the old Johnson farm.

But now you find yourself forced to pull over on the side of the road because your stupid car is out of gas. Must be a leak, you figure as you cut the engine and grab your phone from the passenger seat. You groan when you realize there’s no service. Of course not. You’re out in the boonies.

With an annoyed sigh you climb out of your car and hold your phone in the air, trying to catch a bar or two. No luck. Glancing at your car, you wonder if you could actually see gas leaking from the bottom if you look. But you don’t want to ruin your sexy Little Red Riding Hood costume. The skirt is so short and so tight that you don’t think it’s physically possible to squat down in it.

You walk a few steps away, still holding your phone up, still hoping for a signal. This is the last place you want to be stranded. Over the past two weeks, four different women close to your age have been found murdered along this road. Their deaths were gruesome, violent, and bloody. Two of them had their guts ripped completely out. The other two had apparently been skinned alive. Someone leaked a crime scene photo online and you saw it without meaning to. You couldn’t eat for two days after that.

So when you hear the sound of an approaching vehicle slowing down, you feel a mix of fear and relief. It could be someone who could help you. It could be a crazed serial killer.

You turn to look back toward your car, and your heart feels like it freezes in place when you see the rusty white van with blacked out windows pulling over. It might as well have had a huge sign on the side that said “Axe Murderer Inside!”

The thought crosses your mind to just run. But then you remember you’re wearing stiletto heels and an outfit that would be practically impossible to run in. Plus, whoever this is obviously saw you and are in a working vehicle. Running would do you absolutely no good.

You walk slowly back to your car, and as you start to pass by the van, the window rolls down on the passenger side. You nervously glance inside. Leaning across from the driver’s seat is a man wearing dark sunglasses. His hair is snowy white, styled in that way that looks slightly messy but was clearly done on purpose. He has a young, incredibly handsome face, and when he pulls his sunglasses down to look at you, he has the most breathtaking blue eyes you’ve ever seen in your life.

“Need some help, sweetheart?”

You can’t help blushing a little as you notice those gorgeous eyes moving up and down your figure. Your skimpy costume covers very little, and definitely enhances what it does cover.

“I ran out of gas,” you tell him. “I think I have a leak.”

“Want me to take a look?” he asks, a friendly smile on his face.

“Sure, if you don’t mind.”

He cuts the van’s engine and gets out. When he walks around to your side of the van and you get a full view of him, you feel yourself clamping your thighs together.

Oh fuck, he’s hot. Like, really really hot.

He’s tall enough to tower over you, and his loose black jacket does little to conceal how his toned body moves under his clothes. When he steps closer, you can smell expensive cologne, and when he squats down beside your car, his thighs spreading apart, you have to fight the urge to insert yourself right between his legs.

The man bends his head down and looks under your car, holding his shades in his hand. “I don’t see anything. Are you sure you didn’t forget to gas up?”

“I’m sure,” you tell him.

He stands back up and comes to stand right in front of you, his height dwarfing yours. “I can give you a lift. Where are you headed?”

“Oh, could I just borrow your phone?” you ask with a smile. “I can get a friend to pick me up.”

“No service out here, sweetheart, but I’d be happy to take you wherever you want.”

You stare at him, weighing your options. You know it’s dangerous to get in a vehicle with a strange man at night. Especially one in a van like this, on a road where women are turning up murdered. But hot damn he’s gorgeous! The thought of being in an enclosed space with him is soaking your tiny thong panties.

Fuck it. I’m taking my chances.

“Do you know where the old Johnson farm is?” you ask him.

He grins. “Sure do. Hop in.”

He opens the passenger side door for you and even helps you climb in. Like a gentleman. You wonder if this gentleman knows how badly you want to suck his dick as you slide into the seat.

As the two of you drive toward the Johnson farm, your mind races for ideas on how you could get him to join you at the party. Your friends will be so jealous if you show up with a snack like him on your arm. You watch him as he drives, admiring his large but elegant looking hands on the steering wheel, imagining them grabbing your ass.

He glances sideways at you. “So what’s going on at the farm tonight?”

“A Halloween party,” you answer.

“That explains the outfit then,” he says with a laugh, his eyes roaming over you again.

You cross and uncross your legs, trying to draw attention to your bare thighs. “You can come too if you want. It’s open invitation.”

He gives you a look that makes you melt, a knowing look, as if he can read your mind. “I’ll think about it,” he says, his eyes torn between the road and your legs.

You settle into the seat, subtly letting your legs spread slightly apart. There’s enough room for him to put his hand up your skirt. You hope he’s thinking about that.

The night outside the van window zips past you, and as you look out, you realize he’s missed the turn off to get to the farm. “Hey,” you say suddenly, “you missed the turn.”

He doesn’t slow down at all, but glances at you and asks, “I did? Are you sure?”

“Yeah, it was back there on the right.”

He doesn’t reply to you. Instead, he pulls off the road and drives down a dirt path, lined on either side with trees. You feel your heart pounding when he stops the van in a dark and empty place.

He gives you a sultry sidelong look, his beautiful eyes seeming to glow in the darkness of the van. “Do you really wanna go to some stupid Halloween party?” he asks. “Or do you wanna get fucked in the back of my van?”

The brief spike of fear you felt when he parked instantly vanishes. You suddenly lean forward and kiss him, practically crawling across the seat. He kisses you back, his lips soft but crushing, his tongue in your mouth, the taste of him sweet.

After a moment he pulls away and looks you in the eyes. “Want me to rearrange your insides?”

“Fuck, yes, please!” you breathe out. “I want you inside me!”

He runs his tongue across your lips and grins. “Oh I’ll be inside you alright.”

Minutes later, you’re in the back of his van, your micro mini skirt hiked up around your waist and your corset style top untied halfway down, allowing your breasts to spill out. The back of the van is big enough for you to stand up straight, but the insanely sexy stranger has to hunker down a bit to fit.

You watch with almost unbearable anticipation as he opens his black pants and pulls his cock out. It’s rock hard, and fucking enormous. You’ve had plenty of dick in your life, but this one might be a challenge.

A challenge you’re excited to accept.

Soon enough he has you pinned underneath him, the two of you on the floor of the van, his mouth on your neck, one hand in your hair and the other bracing himself as he thrusts into you with wild abandon.

He’s good. Almost too good. You’ve never been fucked so hard or so deep in your life, and you wonder how the hell you’re supposed to be satisfied with any other guy from now on.

You don’t even know this man’s name, but you think you’re in love.

He draws back to sit up on his knees, pulling your hips into his lap and fucking you from a slightly different angle, one that lets him go even deeper. You moan loudly, arching your back as his thumb strokes your clit. You’ve never felt more incredible than you do right now, cumming on a stranger’s massive cock in the back of a van.

A few more thrusts later, you feel his grip on your hips tighten as his cock twitches inside you.

You look up at him sharply. “Hey, don’t cum inside-“

“Too late,” he says as you feel him shoot a huge load directly into you. It feels fucking fantastic, but you’re not looking to get pregnant, and you wish he would have asked first. Oh well. What’s done is done.

He slowly pulls out, and you lie back, catching your breath and giving him a perfect view of his cum leaking out of your pussy. Guys love that sort of thing, or so you’ve heard. You raise your head slightly to look a him, and those crystal blue eyes are indeed staring at your body. But there’s a strange look on his face. It’s not the expected desire or lust, but something else. Something frightening.

He turns and begins rummaging through a box near the back. When he faces you again, he’s holding a rough-looking rope in one hand and a large shiny knife in the other.

He grins at you. “I satisfied your hunger. Now you can satisfy mine.”

You start to get up, even though your legs are numb, but he quickly jumps down and uses his knees to press you to the floor.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” you scream, struggling against his weight.

He’s already wrapping the rope around your wrists, pulled above your head. “We’re gonna have fun all night long, Little Red Riding Hood,” he says with a devious, slightly unhinged smile. “The big bad wolf is here to gobble you up!”

The knife in his hand glints in the dim interior light of the van as he brings it closer to your body, then uses it to cut away the clothing that had bunched up around your waist. His hand rubs over your stomach, pressing slightly into the soft flesh.

“I’m gonna dig around a bit in here,” he says, and all you can do is scream incoherently as he begins his grisly work.

Tag List:

@loyal-to-my-dilf @unearthlydream @noodlejitsu @itzmeme

If you’d like to be tagged in future parts, please comment to let me know! You must be an adult to be tagged!

#Gojo x reader #gojo x reader x geto #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo #Gojo smut #Geto x reader #tw: death

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nhlclover · 8 months

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enchanted | cole caufield

summary: an enchanting night with your brother's teammate changes the way you feel about dating

request: yes / no

warnings: NOT proof read, drinking, kissing

a/n: based on ‘enchanted’ by taylor swift. whoo mama she's a long one! also sorry if this lowkey sucks i combined two different fics into one, regretted my decision, but perservered

word count: 2.57k

You pause the episode of Survivor, tuning into the muffled conversation you could hear from the kitchen. It was Nick and Caitlin, although their raised volume indicated that they were arguing, which was bizarre. It had been a bit over 6 months since you’d lived with your brother and his girlfriend and not once had you heard them argue, let alone get in a serious disagreement.

Their voices approached your room accompanied by footsteps. The room is brightened by the hall light as they appear in the doorway, dressed to go out.

“What?” You ask in a monotone voice.

“We’re going to Kirby’s house for a party.” He tells you.

“Okay? Have fun.” You say, wondering why he felt the need to tell you.

“No I mean we as in all of us. You’re coming too.” He says.

You roll your eyes, pulling the comforter over your torso. “I’m not really in the mood for partying with your teammates, Nick.”

“Don’t care. You’re coming with us, y/n.” Nick said, turning on the bedside lamp. “It’s getting a little sad, all of this moping. I mean I’m pretty sure it’s been a week since you’ve seen sunlight.”

“Nick, she just got broken up with, cut her some slack.” Caitlin says from the doorway.

“Thank you, Caitlin. See this is why I like her better than you, she shows me compassion.” You say.

“To hell with compassion.” Nick rolls his eyes. “You guys dated for less than two months, he didn’t even know your middle name.”

“Can’t you just let me be sad?” You ask. “I don’t know why you want me to come with you guys.”

“Because if mom knew that you were just lying in bed, eating chips and binging Survivor, she wouldn’t be happy with either of us.” Nick pointed out your depressing habits. He yanked the comforter off you, taking your laptop and putting it on the desk. “Now get dressed we leave in 15 minutes.”

You groan, watching him walk out of the room with Caitlin shooting you a look of sympathy before she walks out too. Not that he deserves the credit, but Nick was partially right. You had only been dating for two months, so your moping about this one guy was a little extreme, but he was the third guy that you had gone out with only to get dumped less than two months later. It was getting frustrating as you started to wonder if something about you was turning all these guys away.

Another thing he was right about was that you hadn’t left the apartment in over a week. Even you were starting to get a little disappointed in yourself.

You forced yourself out of bed and into your closet to pick out an outfit. You pick out a black miniskirt and a black corset top, finding an oversized leather jacket in the closet to wear over. You got some block-heeled boots to finish off the look.

You have enough energy to get out of bed and get dressed, but not enough to put any effort into makeup or hair. You took my hair out of its braid, tousling it a bit, while putting on a bit of mascara on your eyelashes.

You grab your purse, heading to the living room where Caitlin and Nick are waiting. Nick eyes your outfit, then shakes his head.

“No, that skirt’s way too short, go change.” Nick says. You go to protest but Caitlin speaks before you can.

“Get off her ass, Nick. She looks good.” She says. She hooks her arm with yours as you head out. You get in Nick’s car, the short drive getting you guys to Kirby’s house in a few minutes

Immediately you regret your decision. You thought was going to be just Nick’s teammates but it became apparent that you were wrong as there had to be 100 people in the room. This is the exact opposite environment you wanted to be in at the moment, with sweaty bodies on either side of you as soon as you stepped into the room.

“Nick!” A voice shouts.

Kirby swoops in out of nowhere, scooping up Nick in his arms, giving his captain a hug.

“Hey, Kirbs.” Nick chuckles as he’s put back down.

You quickly zone out of their conversation, looking around the room at the different guests of Kirby’s party. You sport various Habs players and their significant others around the room, but mostly people you don’t know.

It was somewhere in the middle of another unamusing joke that you were prepared to exhibit some forced laughter when you spotted him across the room. His familiar face grinned as he downed the last couple drops of his drink, then began to make his way over to you.

“Hey, boys.” Cole says as he approaches. “Hey, Caitlin.”

“Cole, wassup bud,” Nick says, dapping him up.

Cole turned to you. “Hey, y/n.” He said, a smile tugging on his lips.

The first time you’d met Cole was two years ago during the Stanley Cup Finals when Montreal played Tampa. It was Cole’s first year in the league, and you had just wrapped up your sophomore year at Western.

At the time, you’d developed a small crush on your brother’s teammate. It was nothing huge, truly just a passing crush, like the ones you’d had on the boys you’d see once in your lectures.

Then you transferred to McGill and moved in with Nick. Cole became a frequent presence in your life, being a good friend of your brothers. Your once ‘small crush’ bloomed into something stronger. But Nick had already made it clear long ago that he didn’t want you crushing on any of his teammates. Ever.

So, you moved on. You let your crush on Cole get shoved down deep as you moved on to other guys.

“Nick!” Someone shouted from within the house.

Suddenly Chris Wideman is pushing through people, barreling towards your brother and engulfing him in a hug.

“C’mon man, you’ve gotta see Slaf right now.” He says.

Within seconds, Kirby, Nick, and Caitlin are out of the room, leaving just you and Cole. He looks over at you but you avoid eye contact.

“Did Nick drag you here?” Cole asks, making you finally look at him.

Oh, his eyes.

“How’d you know?” You ask.

“I’ve seen you smile, like a real smile, and the entire time Kirby was talking and cracking jokes and you were smiling? That was not a real smile.” He says.

He notices my smile?

“Um, yeah. Nick forced me here. Pulled the brother card.” You say, making Cole laugh. “I would genuinely rather be anywhere else, parties aren’t really my thing.”

Cole looks around, then back to you.

“Listen, I’ll go back in there, nab a bottle of something and bring it back.” Cole says. “We can find somewhere to sit and take a break from them. Because if I’m being truthful, I can’t stand most of the people here.”

You laugh, watching Cole enter the kitchen. He returns a minute later, an unopened bottle of Malibu in his hand

“Jackpot.” He says, holding it up.

The pair of you walk through the hall to the back door, exiting the stuffy kitchen. You guys head for the pool, sitting down at the edge, removing your shoes and sticking your feet in the crystal water. Cole unscrews the cap, takes a sip, and pulls a face as he swallows.

“I forgot I hate coconut.” He says. You laugh, taking the bottle from him and taking a swig.

Conversation soon finds you naturally, not running out of things to say, topics flowing from one to the other. Hours passed by as you guys sat at the edge of the pool simply talking your way through the bottle of rum.

“Who do you love?” Cole asks suddenly.

You choke on the rum you’d just sipped, laughing as a blush forms on Cole’s cheeks as he tries to backtrack.

“What…what I meant was are you… are you dating someone?” Coke says, eventually falling into laughter himself. “Fuck that was so weird of me, I’m sorry.”

Once your laughter subsides, you take a swig from the bottle. “Um, no one at the moment.” You say.

“Really?” Cole says, a shocked look on his face.

“Yeah.” You nod. “I haven’t exactly had the best luck in dating these past few months.”

“That’s surprising.” Cole says.

“Why’s that surprising?” You ask.

“Well... you’re so… I mean…” Cole stumbles over his words. “Y’know you’re being a bottle hog.”

Cole grabs the bottle, taking a large swig himself. You allowed the moment to change but his question lingered in your mind.

It was somewhere around 2 AM when you finally checked your phone. Several text messages and phone calls from Nick and Caitlin appeared in your notifications.

“Shit.” You say, clicking on his contact and calling Nick back.

“Where are you?” Nick asks, a hint of anger and fear in his voice.

“I’m just in the backyard.” You tell him.

“Why the hell are you in the backyard?” Nick asks, then relaying the message to someone, no doubt Caitlin.

“I needed fresh air.” You say.

Nick continues to scold you, telling you how worried he was when he couldn’t find you or get a hold of you. He tells you that they’re leaving now and to hurry up. You stand up, grabbing your shoes in one hand. Cole follows close behind as you make your way to the front of the house.

“Wait, hold on.” Cole says, grabbing your hand and pulling you back slightly. “I can’t go around front. If Nick sees me with you, both of us wasted on Malibu, I don’t think he’d be too happy with me.”

You laugh, nodding in agreement. “Thank you, for tonight. I haven’t had this much fun in a while.” You say.

Cole smiles and agrees. The pair of you stand there, caught. Part of you doesn’t want to leave him just yet, feeling too much was left unsaid. You don’t know how long to two of you are standing there staring, but you’re yanked out of it as Cole pulls you into him, your lips crashing together.

His stubble lightly scratches your chin, goosebumps prickling down your spine. His hands find your hips, and needing to close in the space, he pulls your body into his. You break apart, left a little shocked by what Cole had just done.

“I uh… Nick’s waiting.” Is all you can say.

You spin on your heel, walking towards the driveway, leaving Cole there. You regret it as soon as you’re around the corner, spotting Nick in front of the house standing next to his car. You nearly turn around to go back to Cole, but Nick spots you, chastising you for taking so much time. You shove yourself into the back seat, looking out the window.

The kiss plays on repeat in your head the whole way home, your cheeks heating up as you remember his hands on your hips, gripping onto your jacket in an attempt to pull you closer.

You get home, beelining for your room, afraid that Nick or Caitlin would try to ask questions about your demeanour or why you were in the backyard. The kiss and the conversations keep you up, wanting to replay them over and over in order to not forget them. Eventually, you fall asleep, the feeling of Cole’s lips never leaving your mind.

You wake up in the late morning, the sun beaming in making the room a little too bright for your sensitive eyes. You trudge out into the kitchen, noticing the silent house. On the counter was a note from Nick and Caitlin, saying they’d gone to run errands and that they wouldn’t be back till later.

You took the opportunity to bask in the quiet apartment, making yourself breakfast. A few minutes later there’s a knock on the door. You open the door to Cole. His hands shoved in his pockets, a backwards hat on his head. Upon seeing you, a soft smile spreads on his lips.

“Oh, hey Cole.” You say. “Um, Nick’s not home right now.”

“Oh…I’m not here for Nick.” Cole says. “Can I come in?”

You step aside, letting Cole step in, shutting the door behind him. You’re suddenly painfully aware of your outfit, wearing an old McGill shirt and a pair of men's boxers that had been repurposed as sleep shorts. Your hair was pulled back in a messy braid, strands of hair having fallen out during the night.

“I think it might’ve been a mistake. Me kissing you last night.” Cole says.

“W-why?” You ask.

Cole’s brows furrow. “Well after I kissed you, you just said ‘Nick’s waiting’. Didn’t exactly seem like the reaction of someone who enjoyed the kiss.”

“Well, how else are you supposed to react when the guy you like kisses you out of nowhere? It kind of catches you off guard a bit don’t you think?” You blurt out. You clamp your mouth shut, but a small smile appears on Cole’s lips.

“What? Do you like me?” Cole asks. He steps towards you as you offer him no response.

Part of you, the rational part of you, is screaming at you to step back. Not only were you just in multiple failed relationships, but Cole was your brother’s teammate and friend. He was part of the one group of people you knew Nick would never approve of.

But the other part of you wants him to kiss you again. You want to feel that rush you got when he put his hands on your body, the chills that went up your spine when his stubble scratched your chin.

“Do you or do you not like me?” Cole asks, taking another few steps towards you.

He’s right there. Right in your face. And you can’t help but kiss him.

Your hands go up to the sides of his face, pressing your lips to his. Cole doesn’t hesitate to put his hands on your waist, instead tugging on your shirt to draw you in. The same chill-inducing rush comes back, Cole pushing his tongue past your lips.

You’re about to let him carry you to the couch and take control when you hear keys jingling in the door. You jump back, nearly pushing Cole away. Nick and Caitlin come through the door, grocery bags in hand. When they spot Cole, looks of confusion paint their faces.

“Cole?” Nick asks. “What’re you doing here?’

“I uh… wanted to see if you wanted to work out with me today. Maybe play a bit of tennis too?” Cole asks.

“You couldn’t text me? Or call?” Nick laughed.

“I left my phone at Kirby’s last night.” Cole says.

You know Cole’s lying but Nick doesn’t and seems to buy his lie. “Uh yeah let’s do it.” Nick says. “Just let me put away the groceries and I’ll be good to go.”

Nick and Caitlin begin to put the groceries away. When they aren’t looking, you shoot Cole a look which he reads as ‘what the hell did you get yourself into?’.

Cole quietly steps over, leaning over. “Looks like I’m going to the gym.” He whispers. “I’ll text you later.”

You shoot him a smile, walking to your room, replaying the events of last night and a few minutes ago in your head.

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