#and they had those flies buzzing if there's one thing about me it's that I love to hear flies buzzing

[beardedjoel]

pretty little wife | do you have an appointment?

joel miller x f!reader one shot collection

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 | ✨kofi ✨ summary: 11.2k words, pretty wife visits joel at work when he forgets his lunch, and he wants to show everyone there just how good you are to him. and when you're good, you get a reward. warnings: 18+ MDNI! no apocalypse au, pre-established relationship/dynamic, unprotected piv, rough sex, free use kink, sub/dom relationship, exhibition kink, oral (m + f receiving), kneeling???, dirty talk, sir kink, pet names for reader, reader is joel's little doll hehe, little bit of domestic bliss, brief mention of alcohol, extremely submissive reader a/n: idek what happened here, it's been a while since i've gotten a chapter finished and went a little crazy with the word count on this one oopsie. i was plotting and writing this chapter then read this book and was extra excited that it lined up with this chapter so well so ANYWAY ENJOY! reblogs + comments are always loved and appreciated! ♡

You love the mornings you have with Joel before he works, the ones where he takes it slow and sits down to sip coffee with you, eating the plated breakfast you set in front of him and chatting about what’s on his agenda for the day. You even love the ones where he practically flies into the kitchen, dressed and ready, and you can read the signals that there isn’t any time to spare for sweet chatter and a meal this morning.

This happens to be one of those mornings, with Joel buzzing around quickly, trying to get his things in order. He’d spent way too long making out with you like a horny teenager after already sleeping in too late for everything he had to get done at the office today, and now he was paying the price. 

“Shit, sorry, baby, gotta rush out of here,” Joel mumbles as he scoots past you, taking a hasty gulp from his mug of coffee. You’ve been standing, fingers curled around your hips, brushing the fabric of your silk robe and watching in amusement as your husband starts to fall apart in the chaos of his own doing. You can smell the freshness of his shower on him, his heavenly body wash making you take an extra breath in just to keep it with you a little longer. 

“You just worry about your shoes and bag, let me get this into a travel cup for you,” you tell him, grabbing the mug out of his hands before he can protest. 

“God, m’perfect wife, thank you,” he says quickly, pecking the side of your head as he passes by again, heading towards the coat closet near the front door. 

You hear him rustling around as you fill one of his favorite cups - a Texas Longhorns travel mug - and walk it over to the front door. 

“Dumb ass for scheduling this meeting so early,” he mumbles to himself, critiquing his lack of foresight in his own agenda. He has his shoes on and looks ready to go as he looks up at you, his irritated expression immediately changing into a soft, lopsided smile. 

His arms reach out to you and pull you in for an embrace, grabbing the mug out of your hand before leaning down to kiss you, long and deep. 

“Make it up t’ya later,” he promises with a wink before one more chaste kiss makes its way onto your lips from him. 

“You better,” you quip back, “Bye, honey.” He waves as he slips through the front door, and moments later you hear his truck start up, speeding off through the neighborhood. 

You sigh, shaking your head a little at your husband, but start to move along with your day, changing into your more worn clothes - an old t-shirt of Joel’s and some cloth shorts - to tidy the kitchen first and then get a good vacuum done all over the house. You find a few more projects - taking an inventory of toiletries for your trip to the store this week and a quick clean of the half bathroom on the main level has you feeling accomplished for the day, realizing it’s nearing the time you’re supposed to meet your friends for your weekly tennis scrimmage. 

You contemplate inside your closet for a few moments before deciding on an all white tennis outfit - a pleated skirt and workout tank top, completing it with ankle high socks and your white tennis shoes. You throw a zip up on top of everything and clasp on the sparkling tennis bracelet Joel had gotten you, claiming it had tennis in the name, so it must go with your tennis outfits, right? You’d nearly fallen out of your chair that day at the glimmering diamonds as Joel put it on your wrist for the first time, telling him that it wasn’t in fact something that actually had anything to do with you playing tennis. You decided to wear it most weeks to play tennis, anyways, just because of how sweet the gesture had been from him.

You open the fridge to grab some snacks and a protein drink to bring to the court with you, when your eye catches on Joel’s lunch, still sitting in the fridge and untouched - in his rush this morning he must have forgotten it. You frown, pulling out your phone and shooting a quick text to your friends, letting them know you won’t be able to make your usual time today and then pull up Joel’s contact to call him.

“Hey darlin’, how are you?” Joel says upon picking up, sounding slightly distracted among the sound of shuffling papers in the background.

“You forgot your lunch,” you blurt out.

“Oh, shoot, you’re right, ain’t ya. Hmm, s’okay, I’ll just grab somethin’ to go, maybe,” Joel says, sounding lost in thought over his current situation.

“Let me bring it to you. We could eat together?” you ask, biting your lip and hoping his day isn’t too busy to fit you in. 

“Don’t ya have tennis and lunch with your girls right about now?”

“Er, well, I already canceled to bring you your lunch,” you admit. You hear Joel hum quickly on the other end in contemplation.

“Alright, ya got me. Jus’ didn’t want you to go out of your way f’me,” Joel says, and you shake your head a little bit.

“Of course not, I want to eat lunch with you. Besides, I haven’t been to the office in a long time.” 

“See ya around noon, then?” Joel asks, and you agree that noon sounds perfect. 

“W-wait, doll -” Joel cuts in before you two can hang up.

“Hmm?” you murmur, clutching the phone back into your ear.

“What’re you wearin’? Your little white skirt?” he asks, and you lick your lips and break out into a smile.

“Maybe…” you tease, “I was about to change, though, if I’m not playing.”

“Don’t.” Joel says more sternly. “Don’t change.”

And as usual, you obey. 

You walk into Joel’s office building, part of a larger skyscraper downtown, and as you notice little details again you realize that you really haven’t been here in ages. It always impresses you every time you see it, though, the pristine office space and location, and it makes you smile at how successful your husband has gotten. You bet he’s as good a boss as he is a husband, you think to yourself, knowing that Joel’s business is one of the top contracting companies in Austin.

“Good afternoon. How can I help you?” a younger, sandy haired woman behind a counter labeled Reception asks as you walk up. 

“Oh, I’m here to see Joel - uh, Mr. Miller? I -“ you stutter uncomfortably - you suddenly feel a bit out of your depth looking into this woman’s curious, critical eyes.

The woman looks you up and down, assessing you quickly. You find yourself wishing you could hear the thoughts going through her head as she quirks a brow at you. You try not to be self conscious, but sometimes in a situation like this, where you’re not sure exactly where you belong, you tend to get nervous. You just want to see Joel and find some solace in his arms.

“Do you have an appointment?” she interrupts you, glancing at the computer to see if there’s anything on the agenda for this time of day. 

“Gosh, no. I’m his wife. Sorry, should have said that right off the bat. He forgot his lunch this morning,” you tell her, putting on your kindest smile and holding the little cooler bag up. Her eyes widen just slightly and she stares for a moment, her quick gaze roaming your outfit and body having a different meaning now, landing with a small, furtive smile on the high pony tail that had been swinging back and forth on your head as you’d walked in. 

“Sorry, he didn’t say he was expecting you. I can show you where his office is, if you need,” she says, suddenly straightening her back and cocking her head at you.

“No worries, I’ve been here before. Uh, thanks,” you tell her, trying not to falter your smile. Something about the way she’d looked at you made you feel… off - like she was judging you for some secret that you weren’t in on. It’s obvious you’re much younger than Joel, but you’ve never been bothered by the fact and you wish other people weren’t, either. Maybe they’d expected some frumpy older lady to walk in here, or something, and instead were stuck with the conundrum that was you. 

You try to shake it off and make a beeline to Joel’s office, but you find more eyes are on you - people looking up from their desks as you pass, doing double takes, their faces completely unreadable. Your skin is crawling a little uncomfortably at the sidelong glances from so many people you don’t know. You’re starting to regret your choice of outfit, not changing before you’d left the house, but you do know Joel loves this particular tennis skirt on you, and he’d specifically asked you not to change. You try to remind yourself that the only opinion that matters in this office is his, and it settles your nerves a little bit. 

“There she is,” Joel says sweetly as you give his office door a few quick knocks and enter. He practically jumps out of his chair to meet you, swiftly going in for a kiss. He takes the lunch bag you’d packed out of your hand and plops it onto his desk. 

“Hungry now?” he asks, and you nod, smiling almost dumbly at him. You just find that he does something to you, this man, and you can only smile and nod and be this submissive little thing around him most of the time. And it’s absolutely glorious, the effect your husband has on you. It's like everything that happened, all the uncomfortable stares from the office, completely vanishes once you’re with him. 

Joel gives you one more kiss, groaning a little into it before pulling away reluctantly. He rearranges chairs so that you two can sit next to each other and eat at his desk. He starts to unpack the lunch, pulling out a small slip of paper with a knowing smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Oh, that’s -” you start, a small blush coming over your cheeks.

“I know what it is, darlin’. You pack them every day,” Joel replies, unfolding it and reading the small note you’d packed in his lunch. You started to get into the habit so long ago that you can’t even remember how long you’d been doing it. Putting funny jokes, sexy promises, or just a quickly scrawled I love you and tossing it in with his lunch each night became just simply part of your routine at this point. 

Joel stands up and opens a drawer at his desk, pulling out a small box that he opens to place the note inside. Your mouth hangs open a little as the realization of what he’s doing hits you.

“You… keep them?” you ask timidly, and Joel’s eyes find yours, his smile growing.

“Every single one,” he states simply, and you feel your eyes grow watery before blinking it away. “Good for when I’m havin’ a rough day,” he adds, finding his way back to his seat. 

You’re practically speechless, loving that the small gesture has meant so much to Joel, has helped him on days he’s here without you and needs a pick me up. The thought alone sends your heart soaring, filled with love for your husband and you lean forward to kiss him again, savoring the feel of his lips on yours.

“That’s so sweet, baby, I love it,” you finally manage to say with a tight voice, and he pinches your cheek lovingly before settling back in his chair to eat.

“Oh, hang on, darlin’, I think there’s some sodas in the break room I could sneak us,” Joel says with an effortlessly suave wink, leaving you smiling to yourself as he slips out of his office. 

Joel hears hushed voices through the open door to the break room, and he’s about to turn in when the words they’re saying catch his ear. He knows he should just go in, silence them with his presence alone, but he can’t help himself. He immediately feels a seething boil under his skin at what he’s hearing. 

“I swear, I heard from someone who went for like, a party or something at their place, she’s totally like one of those Stepford Wives. All dolled up and in dresses and aprons all the time and shit. I don’t know, just sounds weird to me,” a female voice says, and Joel’s brow crinkles further, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. 

“What, really?” a male voice replies, with a second female voice murmuring something similar. 

“I mean, didn’t you see her walk in today? The outfit alone. Cute, but like… feels like she’s trying a bit too hard, you know,” the first woman says, and Joel hears laughter between the other two. 

“Oh, I saw,” the second woman says with a snort. “It’s all people are talking about out there, seriously. Didn’t know the boss was such a sugar daddy.”

“I know, makes you wonder. He could have anyone, he’s handsome enough and successful, and he chooses to just be with some housewife? She’s pretty and all that, but like…. I guess to each their own,” she says, with a tone that indicates she doesn’t mean her words at all, and her judgment is still swift. 

Joel has found himself sucked into their conversation, listening from the outside with baited breath, a sinking feeling in his chest. Sure, he’s angry, absolutely livid that these three are being so hastily judgemental, but what’s hurting the most is knowing they’re talking about his wife. His sweet, loving, caring, absolutely perfect wife. Someone who always thinks of others, so giving, so wonderful. He knew if you heard their words, it would hurt you deeply, the thought that these people were talking badly about you for just living the way you want to live. 

Joel can’t take it anymore, swiftly turning the corner of the doorframe and entering the room. The three of them are mid-laughter and it tapers off as Joel heads for the fridge. 

“Afternoon,” he says casually, a knowing smirk on his face to try to hide his anger. He glances at the three of them, surely sweating bullets and all looking a bit like they were caught in the act, eyes blinking rapidly and smiles a little too forced.

They all murmur similar greetings in response, trying to act casual. Joel grabs a few sodas out of the fridge, wrapping his large hands around the cool cans and letting the change of temperature ground him a bit. 

He makes his way to the door, letting them think that he didn’t hear anything, that they got off the hook that easily. He stops abruptly at the entrance to the room, glancing over his shoulder at his three employees, looking so uncomfortable as they stand huddled together that he could laugh right in their faces.

“Y’know,” he starts, dragging it out a little with a small sigh. “I’ll bet she’d have nothin’ but nice things to say about you three,” he says simply with a quick shake of his head before turning, not even bothering to check their reactions. 

All he wants now is to head back to you, back to his wife, and give you an extra squeeze and a kiss for being so wonderful to him. You’re waiting eagerly, nervously playing with your fingernails when Joel returns, and you immediately smile widely again at the sight of him. 

“Hit the jackpot,” he says, and you grab the can from him. Joel leans down, grabbing your face with his free hand, slightly cold still from the drink and you yelp with a playful giggle. 

“Sorry,” he apologizes quickly with a chuckle, moving his hand off of your cheek. “Just needed to kiss my girl.”

You meet his face in the middle and let him, his lips crashing into yours for a few blissful seconds before he sits down next to you and asks to hear about your morning. He keeps a firm hand on your knee any time he doesn't need to use them to eat his lunch as you two sit and catch up between bites.

“Y’swear, you made this bread?” Joel asks you, marveling at his sandwich - meat, cheese, and veggie toppings sitting between a sourdough recipe you’d been trying to perfect.

“I swear. I can’t believe you haven’t seen the levain in the house, it’s just a big gross blob in a jar,” you say, stifling a laugh.

Joel ponders his memory for a few moments before nodding. “Guess maybe I did. But m’point is - what can’t my wife do? So talented…”

You feel your cheeks heat up at the special attention and compliments he’s giving you, shaking your head modestly in reply. “N-no, it’s just bread,” you say meekly.

He squeezes your thigh, leaning his forehead against yours for a brief second as he speaks. “You’re perfect, darlin’, sorry to say it, but it’s true.”

You laugh then, deciding not to fight him on it anymore. Your face continues to warm from his compliments, your body tingling slightly as you feel a hint of desire pooling low in your body. You know that isn’t his intended result from the compliments he’s doling out on you now, but you can’t help but respond to his attention like this, feeling a deep satisfaction that you’ve pleased him in some way.

“Hey Joel, I -“ a voice interrupts, a broad, light haired man entering through the cracked door. “Oh, sorry, didn’t know - uh -“ he says upon seeing you, chair scooted close to Joel’s, his hand rubbing circles on your thigh. 

“S’alright Rick, what is it?” Joel replies, not bothering to move his hand. If anything, he instinctively tightens it, claiming you in front of a new person, letting them know who you belong to.

“Jus’ had a few questions on the Parker Street project, but it can wait.” His eyes flash back and forth between you and Joel, seemingly trying to size up the situation. Joel opens his mouth to respond to Rick, but the man smiles suddenly and speaks again before Joel can.

“Now who’s this, though? Don’t tell me you’re hiring girls to eat lunch with you now,” Rick teases, and you feel your mouth pop open and your face get hot at the insinuation. Joel’s face doesn’t crack, it hardly even moves as you glance over at him desperately, feeling a burn of embarrassment prickle at your eyes. You try to blink it away, hoping you don’t end up crying in front of this random asshole. 

Joel clears his throat a moment later, his hand tight on your thigh, sudden energy and irritation coursing through him and out into his grip. “If you need to hire your own wife to eat lunch with you, then you got bigger problems, don’t you, Rick?” he snips back, and Rick pales realizing what he thought was a light-hearted joke didn’t quite land. 

“J-just messing around, I’m sorry. She’s just - uh -“ Rick stutters, and Joel just gives a blasé raise of his eyebrows. 

“Careful what words come out of your mouth next about my wife.”

Rick seems intent on digging himself deeper into his own hole and stutters some more, trying to explain himself. “N-no, it’s just - well, you’re very beautiful,” he says, turning to you quickly. “Some people around the office, t-they said some things when you came in. Just jokes, that’s all, just you’re pretty and young, and Joel, well he’s… and… we just made funny assumptions that you couldn’t be his wife.”

Joel sighs, keeping a cool demeanor as he cocks his head in Rick’s direction “People really think my wife, my perfect little wife, is some random girl I hired, huh? After the way you all know I feel about my girl, way I go on and on about this perfect little thing right here,” Joel says, gesturing to you quickly. “Think I’d want anythin’ to do with anyone else?”

“God, no, Joel, it’s just - we didn’t know, she was… shit, so young, okay?”

Joel’s lips purse and you watch on, wide eyed and stunned silent by this conversation, not sure what you could even say right now to help. 

“Well, she is the age she is,” Joel says simply. “Let everyone know if they’ve got an issue, they can come see me.” He breathes an unamused chuckle, looking at Rick expectantly.

“You’re right, Joel. It was just s-stupid office chatter, sorry you had to get caught up in it. We know how m-much you love your wife. He’s always - always talking about you, promise,” Rick says, and your lips turn up a little at his groveling. 

“I know he does,” you finally say, keeping yourself meek but clear, turning to look at Joel and planting a kiss on his cheek. He turns his head, meeting the kiss and making sure Rick sees just how much you care for each other. 

“We’ll talk about the Parker Street stuff later, come back in… mm, an hour or so with Steve and Pat,” Joel says, glancing down at his watch. 

“Sure, of course, sounds good,” Rick says quietly, starting to back out of Joel’s office. “Again, I’m so sorry…” he trails off, and you smile blankly at him in return. 

“It’s alright, I get it. Joel does pay me in other ways to eat lunch with him,” you say, and you hear Joel nearly choke on a laugh next to you as he mutters an impressed curse under his breath. 

Rick doesn’t know what to do - smile, laugh, or let his face get a deeper shade of red at your sudden fierceness, but he settles on a strange, awkward combination of all three before leaving the door cracked shut behind him. 

“Now what was that?” Joel asks, turning towards you, shock written on his face. 

“What, I can’t give him a taste of his own medicine?” you reply, doe-eyed and smirking.

“God, no, y’can. It was perfect, so fuckin’ sexy to see you tell them what I do for ya,” Joel growls, standing up and pulling you off your chair and into his arms. You giggle and wrap your arms around his neck in response to his movements, pulling yourself closer.

“Do you have to get back to work now?” you ask with a slight pout, knowing this lovely afternoon with Joel would have to come to an end eventually.

“Don’t want ya to leave,” Joel says, hand splayed across your lower back, holding you tight to his torso. “Could keep ya here w’me at work as my little pet, couldn’t I?” His eyes gather up a mischievousness as he considers his own words and what they mean he’d be getting this afternoon. 

“Have me, then,” you reply, your eyelashes fluttering as you blink up at him. Joel’s jaw sets a little tighter, a groaning noise working its way out of him as he grinds up against you a little bit. His hand gently taps under your chin, lifting it slightly and holding it there, cocking his head in amazement at you. 

“All mine, hm? My little pet to play with?” he asks, his voice going an octave lower in want. 

You dip your head in one long bow, and Joel starts forward, catching your lips with his. He devours you, forcing his tongue into your mouth quickly and you slide yours against his in equal fervor, starting to moan wantonly into his mouth. He’s already got you breathless, the way his hands move fluidly along your back, catching your ass in his palm and squeezing, the other one gripping the back of your neck, holding you in place.

Joel moves you backwards, slowly walking you until he collapses in his office chair, pulling you down with him and settling you to straddle his lap. He pulls away, thumbing your cheek and scanning your face, glowing and flush with arousal for him already. 

“Wanna teach some assholes here a lesson about disrespectin’ my wife,” he says. “Can’t have that, can I?” 

Your lips turn up in a smile and you shake your head for him, eliciting a devilish smirk from Joel. 

“Alright, why don’t ya stay next to me, darlin’, while I get some work done. See if any of ‘em got somethin’ more to say when they see how good my wife is to me.”

You blink a few times in confusion, your body torn because of the way he’d just been all over you, to not have it progress any further. You start for a chair, to pull it over next to his desk, and you hear Joel tisk as soon as you begin to turn away. His hands hold onto your back, stopping you from sliding off of his firm lap.

“Not like that doll, y’know what I want - need y’to help me relax a little,” Joel says, his eyes quickly dipping to the floor and back up, and you stiffen, immediately picking up on the change. You should have known better when he’d brought up the words little pet. You tilt your head innocently at him as he releases his hold on you, and feel your body moving before you can even process it, moving off of his lap, legs buckling and sending you to your knees. 

“Mmm,” Joel murmurs, looking down at you, settled on your knees next to his chair, “Good girl, my good little wife.”

Your insides warm at his praise, bubbling with satisfaction as you gaze up at him seated above you. You have to admit that you’re surprised Joel has gone this far in the workplace - this dynamic isn’t necessarily anything new to you, and Joel does have to be in a certain mood to get as far as wanting you kneeling next to him like this, but you’re always more than happy to oblige. You love the way it makes him look at you, so pleased and adoring as you fulfill both of your needs and desires, turning yourself off to become everything he needs, and in turn, everything you need. 

“Now, you okay if people see you like this? Y’know the last thing I want is to upset ya,” Joel says and you nod. 

“It’s okay,” you say with a small smile, scooting a bit closer to his chair. You worm your way closer, nuzzling his leg before resting your chin on his thigh. “Whatever you need, sir.”

“Mm, that’s it, jus’ get comfortable,” he coos down at you. Your heart is lifting, thundering happily in your chest at how natural this position feels for you. “I’ll let y’know when I need you.”

You nod dutifully into the fabric of his slacks and Joel turns his chair slightly, patting his thigh before pulling you in between his legs rather than next to him, and you rest your cheek on his inner thigh, letting your breath calm at the warmth of his skin. Your initial nerves that anyone could walk in and see you like this, see you in a position they might consider weak or strange or even gross are dissipating when you sense your husband's presence so close, the thick muscles of his thigh moving underneath your cheek.

You observe his world as he starts to get to work, clicking and typing on his computer with a few irritated sighs. You can tell just how much Rick’s comments are affecting Joel, how the tension spreads and radiates throughout his body. He tuts a few times as he scrolls his emails, your eyes flicking up to the screen but not bothering to read much, giving him his privacy. He picks up the phone and you hear bits and pieces of the conversations he’s having, just finding yourself content to let your mind wander, focusing on the sensations at hand - Joel’s warmth, the muscles on his leg shifting every so often, the sound of his breathing above you when the room gets quiet. 

His hand drifts down while he’s waiting for the other end of the line to ring on a new call, his large hand landing on the top of your head and moving down, stroking gently along the side of your head several times. The sudden attention has you glancing up at his face, and he gives you a sweet look, eyes glazed over as he watches your lips parted and eyes trusting and twinkling for him. You melt instantly, a frown coming to your face as soon as Joel breaks eye contact and blinks quickly a few times, snapping out of it.

“Oh, yeah, this is Joel Miller calling for Devin,” he says. You then decide to filter out anything unimportant again, and wait for Joel to call your attention again as he places what sounds like some order for different lumber sizes for a new build they’re working on. He doesn’t move his hand, though, brushing it along your head in slow, repeated strokes while his voice drones on. You don’t even notice the way your hands have moved of their own accord, grasping onto his calves and inching yourself even closer to where his legs meet on the chair. Your hands are crawling up his thighs, rubbing them, and your face is dangerously close to his crotch now. You can feel Joel’s eyes peering down at your slow, steady movement towards dangerous territory. 

“Mhm, you too, bye,” Joel says, before harshly setting the phone down onto the receiver on down his desk and hissing through his teeth as he snaps his head down to look at you.

“What’re you doin’,” he snips, and your movements halt, a bit of fear burning through your veins that you’ve upset or disappointed him.

“Just… wanted to touch you more,” you say quietly, putting your eyes and head down towards the floor. 

“Said I’d tell y’when I needed you, didn’t I?” he asks.

“I know… I’m sorry, Joel. You just… make me so…” you stutter, knowing he probably won’t like that you’re trying to make excuses right now, not when he’s in this dominant mode. He’s usually pretty lenient with situations like this though, when he knows you just want to be close to him and aren’t trying to be a brat on purpose.

“Hmm,” he growls a little, his lip bit in contemplation for a moment before he places a hand on the back of your head, fisting your high ponytail into his palm. “I know I do, can’t help yourself can you?”

You shake your head in quick movements. “No, I can’t… sir.”

“Make it up t’me…” Joel says, dragging his words. “Suck on my cock like a good girl while I finish this work, then I’ll give ya all the attention you need.”

Your hand brushes gently over the obvious arousal bulging out of his pants, so close to where your cheek was just resting, as you graze your fingers up to his belt in a slow, tantalizing manner, garnering a hum of satisfaction from Joel. You’re about to pull it through the first loop when there’s a knock on the door and you jump, dropping your hand back to his thigh. 

“Shit,” Joel spits under his breath in irritation. “After,” he commands a bit louder to you, and you nod, staring up at him in anxious anticipation for what to do next. Should you stand, stay right where you are, get into the seat next to Joel? Your heart starts to pick up a little as you sit up straight, ready to move if needed.

“Don’t get up for them,” he says sternly, seeming to read your mind, so you blink and try to relax back down. His hand finds its way back to the side of your head, stroking to calm you. “S’okay.”

“Yes, sir,” you say quietly as Joel summons them to come into his office.

You refuse to make eye contact with them, suddenly feeling shyness weigh on you, your shoulders curling in as you find refuge against Joel’s leg again. You hear the shuffle of shoes and bodies entering the room and try not to tense up, wanting to make a good impression for Joel. You try to be brave, looking up at Joel and then turning your head to his coworkers with a lazy smile, and they’re already staring at you with a mixture of emotions - confusion, lust, disgust, and so many things you can’t read that you find it makes you avert your gaze immediately.

“The Parker Street project, right?” Joel says, completely ignoring the rapidly changing emotions on their faces. 

“Right,” one of them that isn’t Rick says. “J-joel, um,” he says, flashing his eyes to you a few times.

“My wife, don’t worry about her. She’s visiting today. Tell them hello, darlin’,” Joel says, his hand still moving lazily along the side of your head.

“H-hello,” you manage to choke out, giving them your name and hoping your voice doesn’t waver too much.

They awkwardly greet you in return, and you try to focus, focus, focus, on Joel’s soothing hand on your hair, the well worn fabric of his pants below you that smells like him, the promise of dirty things after he has this meeting. You find it calms you, wishing you could be exactly like he wants - perfectly submissive, not scared for these other men to see you like this, and you aren’t scared, per se. Joel just doesn’t always bring this dynamic out of the home with him, and it has you feeling more timid than ever over it, even though you do like it. The chance for Joel to show you off, practically in a begging position between his legs, knowing you’re in a skimpy skirt that he loves as it flows out around your hips and onto the floor below you. The thought of these men seeing how much you belong to Joel has arousal starting to pool deep in your belly, swirling lower and lower the more you think about it. Joel’s girl. His pretty little wife. Let them see how good I am to him.

Joel’s hand doesn’t leave your head as they all speak - Rick, Steven, and Pat all doing their best to focus despite the out of the ordinary circumstances. You can’t help but wonder if Joel cares, if he thinks this will affect the way he’s treated by his employees. You start to spiral out, hoping your eyes don’t give away the sudden panic and worry that you’re somehow doing something wrong, making Joel’s life harder by being here. His hand edges down to your chin, unnoticeable to the other men, who have their eyes trained downwards on some blueprints on Joel’s desk as they chatter. He tilts your head slightly off of his thigh, having you look up at him, and he can see the nervous breath hitch in your throat. His eyes go soft and he gives your chin a few gentle strokes of his finger. 

“Good girl,” he mouths, and you melt a little, still not completely rid of the tension. “I love you,” he mouths next, and you find that was the key to the lock, the exact thing you needed from him right now. Of course Joel wouldn’t have you sitting like this if he cared at all what these men thought, if he had any doubts. One thing you knew about Joel was that he wasn’t a man with many doubts, ever. 

You squeeze his calf lovingly and relax again, not failing to notice that Joel’s pants have a prominent bulge just inches from where you’re nuzzling against him. You feel the familiar crawl of arousal in your core again, starting to throb in time with your clit, and you want nothing more than to throw caution to the wind and start riding his cock right now in front of everyone. As if he read your mind yet again, sensing the low, low pooling of heat inside of you,  Joel decides to adjourn the meeting. 

“Hope that answered most of it, but let’s talk tomorrow, hm? Gotta get this pretty girl home soon,” Joel says to them, and to your surprise, they seem much more relaxed, giving out smiles and little chuckles and talking more animatedly with Joel as they wrap their meeting up. You breathe a sigh of relief and say goodbye to them when Joel requests you to, thankful you can be alone with him again. 

As soon as the door to his office clicks shut, Joel shifts in his seat, moving your head off of his lap and replacing it with his own hands. He growls a little, the sound deep and rumbling all the way down to where you’re sitting at his feet, eager to please. His fingers fly to his belt, unbuckling it with a fury that you’re not sure you’ve seen from him before, deft fingers undoing it and unzipping his fly in record time.

“Get my cock in your mouth, pretty girl,” he groans, yanking it out of his pants - the tip exposed first, achingly red and dripping with precum. Your mouth salivates, your tongue starts to poke out before you even realize, desperate to lap it onto your tongue and taste him. He fists it in his hand, slapping it against your mouth a few times, looking down at you through hooded eyes.

“No playin’ around, either, no little kitten licks and all that shit - I want this fat cock stuffing your mouth ‘till you’re choking,” he says, his voice a hot heat that licks down your skin like fire, sending a wave of arousal crashing through you. Slickness pools in your underwear, and you rub your thighs together instinctually. You nod, your mind still processing the vulgarity of what he’d said.

“Your words,” he reminds you, and you blink a few times, swallowing hard.

“Yes, o-of course, sir,” you say eagerly, eyes fixed on the bulbous head of his cock, sitting less than an inch from your hungry, salivating lips. 

“Good girl.” Joel lands another gentle stroke on your head, reaching back to grasp at the high ponytail sitting atop your crown, wrapping it around his hand in a few swift tugs. He has complete control, his hand firmly pressing your head to close the gap between your soon to be swollen lips and his cock, and you open wide for him, not wanting him to even have to ask, and he doesn’t fail to notice. 

“Eager girl, so good,” he praises, the end trailing into a groan as he slips past your lips, the immediate taste of him on your tongue more than welcome for you. You hum around his girth, the satisfaction filling your soul instantly as he presses on the back of your head, sending you further and further down his shaft. He hits the back of your throat, and he breathes hard, nearly gasping as you try to swallow him down and gag a bit, but Joel smiles crookedly, loving the sound that makes him feel so big and powerful above you.

“Yeah? Chokin’ on this big cock, are you? Bet you love it,” he purrs, his fingers tightening around your hair in his hand, scratching along your scalp. 

“Mmm,” you hum affirmatively around him. Your mouth is so full, jaw stretched and hurting already and you can scarcely breathe with the angle he’s hitting you at. You bob your head, slowly starting to move yourself faster along his cock, and Joel feels impossibly hard inside your mouth. You nearly moan at the feeling of what you alone do to him, your thighs clamping together under your skirt as you feel your warm center start to ache for him.

“Fuck, pretty thing, so good for me, aren’t you? Suckin’ on me like that at work like the little slut you are,” Joel grunts out, his breathing more erratic now. He’s losing himself completely to you, his head thrown back into the chair, panting as you keep up the quick bobbing of your head. 

You continue to take him in deep thrusts, your eyes watering, saliva pooling all around the base of him and starting to drip. Your hand pumps along what your mouth can’t take and you’re becoming a complete mess, tear stained cheeks and gagging noises that only serve to egg Joel on. 

“Fuck, perfect fuckin’ mouth, let me fuck it.” Joel tugs on your ponytail, trying to pull your head back to hear the two words he needs, the two words you’re desperate to say to him. 

You slide yourself up his shaft in a long, slow stroke before popping the head out of your mouth. You gaze up at him, your eyes completely changed and fucked out already for him, and Joel nearly comes at the sight alone. Your hair is starting to become undone in the way it only does when he fucks you, your lips puffy and overused now, and eyes glassy. It’s a sight to behold, absolutely angelic, and Joel feels only pure adoration for you and gratitude that he’s the only man who can gaze upon this exact view any time he wants. 

“Yes, sir,” you say, lapping his head and waiting for him to make the next move. He bucks his hips into your small licks before he tightens his grip on the back of your head, holding you in place as he slides himself back into your warm mouth. He sighs at the feeling and only moves slowly for a few moments to stand up from his chair before he starts to thrust his hips into your mouth with more vigor. 

It sends you reeling, the speed he’s moving in your mouth now, so unrelenting, taking everything he needs from you as you choke around him and try to swallow him down. You feel the ache between your thighs that has been growing reach an apex, your panties undoubtedly completely soaked through now, needing him to touch you, to find some relief for your neglected, throbbing clit.

“I’m gonna come down that pretty throat,” Joel says among his panting breaths, shoving himself into you with a hearty thrust.

You encourage Joel with a tight suck, trying to flick your tongue underneath his shaft as he moves your head. He groans loudly, and you know he’s close, your hands flying up to claw at his thighs and hold on as he slams himself into you. 

“Yeah little doll, gonna come in you, gonna c-“ Joel cuts himself off with a swift groan of pleasure as he bucks forward, spilling himself deep into your throat as promised, painting your throat white with his spend. He holds you in the position, keeping himself buried deep in your mouth as he comes down, breathing heavily. You feel his fingers slowly relax on your head, dropping your ponytail before he plops back into his chair. When you look up, his eyes are closed, head leaning back, and he looks completely blissed out, making you grin in satisfaction. You take care to tuck him back into his pants and he smiles down at you, peeking an eye open. 

“C’mere,” he says softly, patting his lap. You clamber up onto him, letting him press you against his chest as he wraps you in his arms, kissing the side of your cheek and neck. 

“You’re perfect,” he whispers, and you grab his hand in yours, bringing it to your mouth. You kiss along each of his knuckles, carefully giving each spot attention before letting his hand drop and putting both of your hands around his neck, scratching up into his hair. He hums contentedly at that, nuzzling himself into your neck.

“You liked everything I did today?” you ask tentatively, knowing what his answer will be, but you can’t help but seek his praise. After a more intense scene together like today, it feels extra good to hear. 

“Mm, I did, m’pretty doll.” He pauses thoughtfully for a moment, his fingers brushing along your back. “Y’know I wouldn’t change you, right? Change any of this? I want ya just as you are.”

“Oh.” You blink and knit your brows a little, nodding. You flick your eyes to his face, seeing that he’s already studying you. “Yeah, I do. Why’re you asking?”

“Jus’ makin’ sure. Too much damn chatter in this office today. All I care ‘bout is you knowin’ you’re my perfect girl.”

You sigh happily and plant a kiss where your head lays on him. “I’m so glad you liked it, I just wanted to do a good job for you.”

Joel makes a low, understanding sound and nods. “Y’did. Bet my baby is all worked up though, isn’t she? Needs a reward for being such a good girl today.”

You practically start to salivate at the words, good girl and reward in the same sentence always seem to lead to glorious things with Joel. You bite the inside of your lip, not sure if you should show him how suddenly eager you are, but a small shift from you in his lap tells him everything he needs to know. He chuckles, low and reverberating across his chest before he grabs your ass, moving you so that you’re straddling his thigh. One hand stays on your ass, and the other comes to cup near your lower belly, the one splayed on your behind starting to push you forward first. His hand on your belly pushes you back, encouraging you to use his thigh while he raptly watches your features screw up into pleasure.

You breathe in shakily at the miniscule amount of pressure on your clit already, immediately tightening around nothing as you start to move yourself in time with his hands as they manipulate you. You feel the build up already of a quickly approaching orgasm, your breath shallowing and erratic now as you quietly moan his name. Your eyes roll back and flutter shut as you grind harder, and just as you feel yourself cresting that sweet cliff into pure bliss, Joel holds tightly to both sides of you, stopping you. You nearly gasp, a frustrated grunt flying past your lips before you can stop it, your hips wiggling but to no avail - you can’ get enough friction now, enough pressure to send you into the pleasurable oblivion you’re craving.

“P-please,” you whine, a sob threatening to break out of your throat as your cunt weeps and aches desperately for him.

“Now…” Joel starts, his lips brushing your neck, beard and mustache tickling you and sending another wave of arousal to your core. “If you’re good jus’ a little longer, do what I say, I’ll give you your reward, mkay?” He talks smoothly and slowly, his words hitting you deep inside as you whimper, trying to grind down on him again, barely able to listen to him through the needy fog clouding your mind.

“C’mon, little doll, know y’want more than jus’ this, comin’ on my leg, don’t you?” He pulls back from your neck and puts a finger under your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. His eyebrows raise just slightly in expectation of your answer, and you purse your lips a little but nod. 

“I need it,” you whisper quietly, your face scrunched up slightly in need as you finally still on Joel’s lap. 

“I know y’can do it, doll,” Joel assures you, his hand curling around your face and to the side of your head, smoothing your hair back. 

“Okay… w-what do I need to do for my reward?”

“You’re gonna head on home, I’ll be maybe thirty minutes, an hour behind ya while I wrap up here and sneak out early.” Joel pauses and you watch his face intently, brows twitching to hear the next part of his plan. 

“You’re gonna put on that little blue set with the flowers, you know the one right?”

You nod quickly and mutely for him, lips pressed tightly together, enraptured by his words. You feel your heart fluttering, beating faster already.

“Words, darlin’,” he presses you, and you pop your mouth open. 

“Yes, sir.”

“Lay in bed an’ wait for me jus’ wearing that. No touchin’ yourself, no coming until I get to you, you understand?” Joel thumbs where he holds your chin before squeezing it possessively. 

“Y-yes.”

“Good girl. You do all of that, and you get your reward,” Joel says, a corner of his mouth tugging upwards in satisfaction at the way you’re eating up his words, sitting with baited breath. 

You don’t even have to ask him what the reward might be, knowing Joel, knowing it will be well worth whatever short torture you’ll have to put yourself through while you wait for him. You can’t say some parts of your body seem on board, your pussy still fluttering, slick, and longing for Joel even as you try to accept that you won’t be able to do anything about it for a while yet.

“I can do it,” you tell Joel finally, trying to straighten yourself and exude confidence, rolling your shoulders back. 

“Okay, then. Home now, doll. And do as I said.” Joel gives your ass a firm spanking before releasing you from his lap, letting you slide off. The both of you, unable to help yourselves, quickly glance down to catch a glimpse of the spot on his pants where you’d just been seated, and Joel’s wry expression at the dark, slick stain from you makes you need to take a deep breath, remind yourself of your new mission.

“See you at home,” you say with a stern nod, pulling yourself together. When you leave the office, you have a renewed confidence, nothing like you felt when you’d walked in here earlier to those critical eyes following you. You feel an extra bounce in your step, passing by the secretary who has one of those particular pairs of eyes. You meet her stare as you walk up to where she’s seated, and you adjust your ponytail, knowing it’s quite obviously much more messy than when you’d arrived from Joel’s hands as he’d fucked into your face like it was his salvation.

“Have a great afternoon,” you chirp at her, a genuine smile shot her way as you pass by.

She gives you a faltering smile in return and her words trail after you as you don’t bother to stop on your way to the elevator. “You too…”

You’re patiently waiting, your whole body taut and anxious as you lay back against the pillows of the bed, sighing. You fiddle with the straps of your lingerie, glancing down to make sure everything is sitting just right on your body for Joel when you hear the front door opening in the distance. You smile to yourself devilishly, your heart thumping and skipping in your chest. You listen carefully, wanting to hear the exact moment Joel approaches you after this long, arduous wait. You’d ghosted your fingers over yourself too many times, always stopping yourself at the last minute before you took it too far, not wanting to disappoint Joel. You know that he’d know, somehow. He could tell the minute he walked in the house, you’d bet - your guilt would permeate every room in the house if you’d disobeyed what he’d asked of you.

It left you a nearly shaking mess, vibrating with excitement as you hear Joel milling around downstairs, the refrigerator opening and the familiar sound of a bottle of beer being opened. You frown slightly, wondering if he’s going to keep up your torturous wait for him until you hear him ascending the stairs. You prop one leg up and drape your hands along your thighs, spreading your baby pink manicured fingers across the skin there, cocking your head and glancing towards the door. The bed faces the door and Joel gets an eyeful of you the moment he appears in the frame, his gaze roaming hungrily over you. He leans one arm on the doorframe, beer in the other hand, observing you from afar.

“Were you good?” he asks, taking a long swig from the bottle.

You nod, whispering a yes to him.

“I know, can tell,” he says, not bothering to explain how he’d know, but you believe him.

“Wanted my reward,” you say meekly, shifting your legs restlessly on the bed.

Joel approaches the bed silently, feet moving purposefully lazily underneath him. He unbuttons the first few buttons of his shirt, revealing the top of his chest, and your eyes linger there, catching his curls of hair now peeking out of the top. He takes one more swig before he sets the beer on top of your dresser. He shrugs his shirt off and climbs onto the bed, crawling towards you. His heavy, muscled form keeps you in place as he straddles you, bringing his face only inches from yours.

“You try to touch yourself?” he asks with a little more bite to his tone. His lips find the corner of your mouth, your cheek, the tip of your nose as he speaks. 

“A-almost. But I didn’t, I swear,” you say a little too quickly. “I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“Thas’ right,” Joel breathes, inching closer to your lips with softening eyes. “My good little wife.”

He brushes his lips against yours and you shudder and moan, the anticipation that’s been building for hours now nearly at a breaking point. Your hips lift off the bed and Joel moves his hands from where they were bracketing your head to your hips, tight and commanding as he stops you from grinding into him.

He slips away from your face, moving down your body towards your aching heat, observing the lingerie you’re wearing along the way. His mouth brushes along the swell of your breasts covered in the lacy, flowery, sheer fabric. 

“This looks perfect on ya, sweetheart.” He smirks against your skin and sucks, leaving a mark on each breast before he slides his lips down your stomach, stopping before he reaches the apex of your thighs.

You whine quietly to yourself, and Joel continues to take his time, a finger sliding under the strap of your panties. His eyes drift between your legs and his eyebrows raise.

“Babydoll, you’ve been makin’ a mess again,” Joel tuts, making a greedy little sound in the back of his throat. You can feel how wet you are for him, how you had been practically non stop since you’d left his office and somehow made it home, changed into this bra and panties, and laid down in bed, all of it in a strange fog, only able to focus on getting to this point, to Joel.

You crane your head to see what he’s looking at, the dark stain on your underwear, no doubt full of your slick arousal. Your face warms at him looking at it so intently, seeing just how wretchedly desperate you are for him, that this simple promise of a reward could have made you gush and gush for him.

“So pretty,” he murmurs, tracing his finger along the wet spot, leaving you to shudder again with a hitch of your breath. “Is it all for me, hm? All of this?” Joel’s finger slips underneath the fabric, running his finger along your slit and the inside fabric of your panties, gathering up your arousal.

“Mhm, mhm,” you nod eagerly at his teasing, completely intoxicated by him now.

“Tell me,” he demands, circling your clit a few times, and you cry out.

“It’s all yours.” Your eyes squeeze shut and you buck into his light touches, feeling like your entire being is on fire from the inside out, the intensity of need for Joel becoming nearly sickening, like you’d do anything to keep his attention right now. And you know at the end of the day, you would. 

“What is? What’s all mine, little doll?” He speaks so assuredly, so languidly, like he could tease you all day like this and not be bothered. You know he would, too, if that was what would get him off that day, and you shudder to think that could be the case today.

“M-me, my pussy, it’s all yours. Only yours, sir.”

“That’s right. Good girl.” Joel sighs, moving his finger to his mouth and licking it clean in a slow, long stroke. He slowly, tantalizingly pulls your panties down your legs and you feel relief coursing through you that you’re getting that much closer to what you need from him.

Joel takes in the now bare bottom half of your body as he tosses your underwear on the floor. He moves swiftly, grabbing your sides and flipping your body so that you’re straddling his chest and he’s lying underneath you. He begins to pull you forward without a word, inching your aching heat closer to his mouth.

“Better soak my face, y’hear me?” he says before bringing you down and licking a flat, wide stripe up your slit and you cry out.

“Yes!” you call out suddenly, answering his question as you’re overtaken by the warm sensation of his mouth. He knows you so well, knows your body, what you respond to, and he dives right in, flicking his tongue perfectly over your clit a few times, drawing circles over it. You whine, your knees wobbling on either side of his head as you grip the sheets. You can tell you’re already doing exactly what Joel asked of you - there’s what feels like an impossible amount of slickness between your legs, and you can hear the lewd, pornographic sounds as he laps and sucks around your pussy. When his tongue pushes inside of you, you roll your eyes as your hips involuntarily thrust forward into it.

He pulls out for a moment, his breathing heavy against your cunt as he speaks. “What, you wanna fuck my tongue, d’ya, like a dirty little slut?” You nod, forgetting Joel can’t see it, and he tuts. “Answer me, little doll, use your words.”

“Yes, yes, please, let me fuck your face,” you practically sob, your lips going dry as you try to lick them back to life. It’s no use, your mouth drying all over again from the panting breaths Joel is bringing out of you.

“Fuck, dirty thing, such a whore for me, ain’t you?” You feel yourself fluttering around nothing, desperate for him to fill your aching, tightening little hole again.

“Yes, sir, I’m your whore. P-please…” you say, and Joel growls before his tongue pushes back into you, and he gathers your ass in his palms his fingers squeezing both globes tight enough to bruise, and he starts to lift you up and down, controlling the pace that you get to fuck his face. It’s dizzying as you feel him sliding in and out of you, your body bouncing on top of him, completely out of your control.

“F-ff-uck,” you moan, “My - my clit, Joel, I’m so close,” you cry feebly, barely able to get the words out. Joel pushes his nose inward, making sure it’s rubbing your clit each time he snaps your hips back down onto his face.

“Oh, right there, riiight there, yes!” you scream, and Joel goes harder as he senses you tensing up, your cunt pulsating and starting to quiver around his tongue. If anything, he starts to pull your hips down harder each time, and your eyes roll back as you squeeze them shut, your vision going bright white while your entire body responds to the pleasure. You feel your brain go fuzzy and your skin burning with the need for him finally releasing, his name falling from your lips over and over again. 

Joel slows the thrusts a bit at a time, letting you ride the heavenly aftershocks into his mouth until you can barely take it anymore and you find yourself squirming to throw yourself onto the bed next to him. Joel lets you go and you roll over onto your back, panting with your eyes shut.

Joel is instantly on you again, wrapping an arm around your chest and kissing the side of your face. Your body still craves more of him, so you turn to meet his lips, tasting yourself on them and feeling how wet his beard is while it rubs against your skin. It’s igniting something dirty and primal and feral inside of you to have your own arousal on your tongue as it dances into Joel’s mouth. 

His hand drifts to your breast, groping it and sliding a hand underneath your bra, running a thumb over your nipple. You whine when he tugs it harder and roll your body to lay on your side and get closer to him. Your hips start to grind on his leg, already seeking more friction from him again. 

“Need me to fuck this little pussy so bad, huh?” Joel says against your lips, the vibration of his low baritone tickling your bottom lip. 

“Mhm,” you practically whisper, a moan catching in your throat when he shoves a hand between your bodies directly to the apex of your thighs. He brushes his fingers along your overly sensitive clit and you twitch your hips into it. 

“I missed you…” you say quietly as you put your hands to his belt and start to unbuckle it. You don’t even realize how absurd the words are, how short a time you’ve been apart from Joel to be saying that, but it was true. You’d keep Joel in this bed all to yourself if you could, if he never had to leave the house for work. 

“My poor little doll, needin’ me to come fuck her senseless, waitin’ so patiently,” Joel says sympathetically while you work on freeing his cock, sending it slapping out and onto your belly as you press closer to him. He’s irritatingly calm and collected, knowing it’s driving you even madder with need and lust for him. 

He pulls your thigh up over his leg as you lay facing each other, and he presses his cock between your legs, rubbing through your oversensitive folds and enjoying how quickly he’s covered in slick arousal. Your eyes roll back and you whimper, your pussy aching and tender, but needing him inside of you all the same.

He rolls you flat on your back and presses his lips to your neck, sucking gently and flicking his tongue over the little sore spots he’s making. You squirm your hips in search of him, and he grabs under your legs, pulling them up by the knees to wrap around his hips. 

“Please, baby,” you beg, feeling him teasing your entrance, the bulbous head nearly bursting into you, giving you what you want. He retreats, looking down to see you purse your lips and huff out in frustration. 

When he finally pushes his length inside of you, inch by deliciously tortuous inch until you’re full of him and he’s pressing himself against your deepest parts you moan out shakily. 

He moves slowly, dragging his cock in and out of you as you clench and unclench around him. You’re sure that the fluttering you’re doing around his length is making Joel crazy, but he’s not showing it, and you both love and hate just how easily you fall apart for him while he can remain so composed for you. 

“Yeah, that good, baby? That what you wanted? Or you need to be drunk on this cock, have me fuck your tight little hole till it’s all used up?” He pushes down on your shoulders, sinking you down into the mattress as he keeps up his frustratingly slow pace.

“Shit, Joel, use me, please,” you cry out, grasping at the sheets and arching your body into him. He moves suddenly, with a gracefulness and speed you sometimes forget that he has as he throws your legs up over his shoulders and starts to jackhammer into you. 

It’s only then that you see it on his face, the way he falls apart for you, when you freely give yourself to him, tell him to use you. He contorts his face, sweat starting to gleam on his forehead as he ruts into you over and over, sending you bouncing towards the edge of the bed with his rough movements in and out of you. 

Use me use me use me you chant under your breath like a sacred prayer to him, feeling your head starting to go off the side of the bed, hanging down while you lose yourself to Joel’s cock, eyes glazing over and vision swimming. 

“Not so fast, pretty girl,” Joel snips, a hand shooting out to grab at your throat, pressing you further against the side of the bed. You choke out a moan as he squeezes and grunts, simultaneously taking and giving to you in hard, frenzied jerks of his hips. “Can’t b-be gettin’ away from me, gotta let me use this pussy up, ‘member?”

You can’t speak, can’t reply, can barely even think in full words as you feel him fold your body in half further, pressing on the spongy part inside of you every time he pushes inside of you, his balls slapping loudly against your ass with each movement. You can only croak out moaning sobs as the pressure inside of you builds to a burning, aching release. He squeezes your throat harder and you break, crying out in your strangled, little voice as you gush, your entire body shaking uncontrollably underneath him. 

Your cunt spasms so hard around him your hips start to arch, but he urges them back down with his free hand, using it to anchor himself and fuck into you harder, chasing his own high along with yours as your walls squeeze him. You can feel so much of him, every bit of his length fucking into you as you try to milk his orgasm out of him, fluttering repeatedly. 

“T-too much, f-fuck,” you cry out in a rasp, “Joel, fuck me, I’m g-gonna -“ you’re cut off by your own desperate, screeching moan as you soak everything, cumming hard around his cock and squirting, covering Joel’s jeans, the sheets, everything. You shudder as you come down and feel Joel still jacking himself off furiously inside your tight, spent cunt, grunting and cursing. 

“So fuckin’ messy, fuckin’ filthy ain’t you, doll,” Joel mumbles as he slams into you with a few hard thrusts. He groans long and low before shoving himself as deep as he can, releasing your throat and spilling himself, claiming you as he paints your walls with his cum. 

You’re gasping for air from the intensity of everything, slick with sweat all over and your combined spends between your legs as Joel pulls out and immediately gathers you into his arms, kissing the top of your head. 

“Sweet little doll,” he mumbles, his lips ghosting across your hairline. “You’re good?”

“God, yes,” you breathe out confidently, barely able to open your eyes except to peek at Joel’s concerned eyes settling back into satisfaction as he runs his fingers down your bare arm, goosebumps cropping up at his touch. You shiver a little as your sweat starts to dry and Joel pulls you in even tighter, nuzzling your neck. 

“You were such a good girl today, y’know that?” Joel says softly as he attaches his lips to the skin underneath your jawline. 

“I was?” you ask shyly, popping your eyes open to look at him in questioning. 

“Mm, of course, thank you for helpin’ me today.” Joel moves so the two of you are propped up on the pillows, legs stretched down the bed and intertwined together. “Never would take you for granted - the lunches, the sweet girl I got, y’know all that?”

“I know, I know,” you say soothingly, cupping your hand around his cheek. “You give me everything, Joel, it’s the least I could do.”

“I'm gonna have to argue and say you do that, do everythin’,” Joel says, a half smile tugging the corner of his lips as his eyes sparkle mischievously now. You pinch his nose and squeeze it, scrunching your face at him in disapproval.

“Agree to disagree?” you say, one of your phrases for when you know that it’ll be a completely fruitless faux argument, that neither one of you will admit that the other is the more perfect spouse. You know deep down that it isn’t even close to the point anyways, that the only thing that matters is how perfect you both feel being together. Your heart warms along with your body as you feel your husband so close, exhaustion overtaking you from the roller coaster of a day you’d had with him and your eyes flutter shut again. 

“Agree to disagree, darlin’.” Joel sighs, tilting your face up to his. 

He kisses you, and the thought flashes through your mind that you’d never choose it to be any other way, any other person in the entire world to make you feel this giddy, this desired, this… like yourself. 

taglist: @aphterthoughtt @bbyanarchist @amy172 @hazzaismyreligion @ohheypedrito @msmorningstaarr @kamcrazy123 @madhere @huffle-punk @jupiter-soups

(sorry i haven't been updating as much to everyone who reads my stories, i've been going through a lot of insecurity lately and it's been hard for me to be inspired when i'm comparing myself to others or just being an insecure mess so anyway ty for bearing with me)

#fic: pretty little wife #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal character fanfiction #x reader

[raplinesmoon]

원샷! (One-shot!) - MYG x F!Reader

pairing: Doctor!Yoongi x Doctor!Reader genre(s): crack, fluff, brief smut au(s): medical AU, idiots-to-lovers (not quite yet) word count: 3.1k warnings: cynical Yoongi, hospital talk, artificial insemination and pregnancy, sperm for insemnation switched without readers’ knowledge/consent, Yoongi has no filter, 20,000 different ways to say sperm, unhinged behaviour from OC and Yoongi, probably HIPAA non-compliance, intoxication, marijuana use, an almost-kiss, did I mention they're idiots (affectionate), mentions divorce (OC's parents), bi-panic from Yoongi, implied masturbation (m) rating: 18+

summary: Yoongi's friendship with you is the one bright spot in his life. So when you tell him you're ready to have a baby, he thinks this will finally be his shot to take your friendship to the next level. Cue a few shots of soju, and one insemination party, and Yoongi suddenly has a huge problem on his hands.

a/n: Old rom-coms (aka pre-2012) are the best. I was rewatching The Switch the other day and felt a burst of inspo to write this cute little au! This will probably be a oneshot (get it?) for now, but never say never! I hope you enjoy!

In his somewhat short career of practicing medicine, Yoongi had become an expert people-watcher, you could say. For instance, he’d been privy to the same morning commute as hundreds of other strangers in the city for the past five or so years. In fact, he was so used to seeing their faces that they didn’t seem like strangers at all. There was the old man who rode in the same car he did, always clutching what seemed to be a bouquet of flowers or a baked good. Maybe it was for his wife. Or his mistress. 

Yoongi puckers his lips sourly at the unsavory thought, shuddering at how cynical he’d become. Instead, he turns his attention to the girl sitting in the corner. She had to be in middle school, he thought. Only middle school could put that despondent look on the face of someone so young. Maybe she’d been jilted by a crush. Or more likely, she’d gotten a B on her math test and was about to walk into a lecture from her parents the moment she came home from school today. Yoongi knew the feeling all too well.

You see, it was Yoongi's job to be in the business of people. Being a doctor meant that he dealt with people all day long. They flitted in and out of his life like the flies that buzzed past his ears every time he entered the subway. And he always surprised himself with how much he could learn about them in a single meeting, or before they even walked into the room. 

Which is why nothing could have prepared him for what awaited him when he walked into the hospital cafeteria that morning. Sweat streamed down his back in rivulets from the summer heat, drenching his scrubs. And yet, he still insisted on grabbing a piping cup of black coffee from the drinks counter.

“It keeps me awake for longer,” he grumbled when the man at the checkout counter shot him a quizzical look.

His eyes scan the crowded array of chairs and tables outside the café, looking for the one person who could perk up the start to another grueling work day, even more than his cup of coffee was capable of. 

You wave to him enthusiastically from the crowd, bouncing up and down like a child waiting for a lollipop. It was probably from all the kids you hung around with all day. Peds was no joke, and Yoongi admired your ability to keep a bright, starry-eyed attitude when his own stomach turned at the thought of sick children.

“Please don’t tell me you saw another man with flowers who might be cheating on his wife,” you raise an eyebrow at the scowl on his face as he approaches the table. “Either that or today’s the day you finally regret not getting an iced coffee.”

Running a hand through his hair, he sighs, annoyed yet also mildly amused by your teasing.

“I told you, it–”

“It keeps you awake for longer, I know, I know,” you beam at him.

“It’s actually neither of those things,” he groans. “Today it was the old lady in the elevator who asked me what year of high school I was in.”

“That’s what you get for having a stupidly perfect face,” you quip, waving your fork at him. “You know Seungkwan from Derm would freak if he knew you only washed your face with bar soap?!”

Although you chuckle at your own joke, Yoongi can’t help the way his heart twists at your words, resisting the heat that rises to his cheeks when you compliment his face. But before he can think about it too long, he falters, noticing that your attention is buried deep within your pile of scrambled eggs, and you’re unable to look him in the eyes.

“You know, Seungkwan from Derm would also tell you that frowning causes premature wrinkles, ___,” Yoongi responds, and you lift your head up, eyebrows furrowed in worry. His hand twitches, and he fights the urge to reach out and squeeze your hand to reassure you everything will be alright.

You finally reach into your bag, pulling out a piece of paper.

“Look at these labs,” you push the paper towards him. “What do they say to you?”

Yoongi stares intently at the paper, trying to piece together this patient’s story, despite you failing to provide any helpful demographic information.

“Iron count, a full blood panel, HcG, any infectious diseases, genetic markers—” Yoongi pauses when he realizes. “You’ve got a pregnant kid on your hands?”

The paper is snatched from his hands before he can finish, your face redder than a tomato.

“No silly, it’s not a kid. I-it’s me. Those are my levels. Do you think they look okay?”

Yoongi can’t prevent his jaw from dropping wide open. He’s sure he must look like an idiot, staring blankly while you blink your eyes, waiting for him to respond.

“You’re having a baby?” he chokes out. The sick, twisty feeling in his stomach has returned, only this time it's a thousand times worse.

“Not yet. But I’m trying,” you admit sheepishly, avoiding eye contact.

“So what, you want me to have sex with you?” Yoongi blurts out before he can stop himself, and he immediately sees you freeze. Sometimes he really hated that he had no filter when it came to his thoughts. That, combined with the fact that he’d had a crush on you since you nearly knocked him over with your Heelies during his first week of work, and Yoongi had found himself in a sticky situation more often than not.

“No!” you immediately blurt out, growing more flustered when Yoongi frowns. “Not that, I mean–, that’s totally beside the point, completely irrelevant to my clinical question, I, I– I’m using a sperm donor okay!”

For the second time in a matter of minutes, you’ve rendered Yoongi completely speechless.

“Is this about Kihyun?” he finally asks. “Or Doyoung? You know, I know you haven’t had the best track record with relationships in the past, but jumping into having a baby with a random guy is definitely not the solution!”

“It’s not about them!” you sputter, unable to stop your voice from rising. “It’s about me, okay! My choice to be an independent woman, raising a child, who doesn’t need a man to help her at all! I get paid well, I have all the resources I could dream of, a strong support system. My life is in session!”

Yoongi has to bite back at chuckle at you quoting one of the various hospital brochures that decorated every reception desk and spare table. 

“So are you gonna help me find some jizz, or not?!” you finish, only to look around and realize nearly a dozen pairs of eyes are on you. Perhaps you’d said that last part a little too loudly.

“I-, I gotta go,” you whisper, slinging your bag over your shoulder and running as fast as you can out of the cafeteria, leaving a wistful Yoongi to ponder over the fact that you hadn’t even bothered to finish your breakfast.

You might have thought that breakfast was the end of your baby-making discussion, but judging by the way Yoongi cornered you immediately during the mid-afternoon patient lull, it seemed he hadn't.

“So you’re looking for, uh, semen,” he says, mortified when the charge nurse on your floor whips her head around to glare at him. He pulls you into an alcove by the windows, immediately realizing what a wrong move that was when he can smell the strawberry shampoo you’d used this morning, or count each one of your long eyelashes.

“What’s wrong with mine?” he asks innocently, before realizing he’d messed up yet again. The uncomfortable look on your face tells him as much.

“Listen, Yoongi, I’m sure you have great sperm, killer sperm even. Not in a murder-y way, you know, but like in a Darwinian kinda way. But we’re best friends, wouldn’t that be weird?”

“We don’t have to have sex, you know. I could just nut in a cup and hand it to you. I mean we’ve literally cleaned vomit off each other, how weird could this be?”

A strangled giggle erupts from your throat, and you’re bouncing on the balls of your feet. Yoongi knows you well enough to know your untapped anxiety is preventing you from saying what you really want.

“Okay, spit it out ___.”

“Well, no offense, Yoongi, but you’re kind of neurotic. And not to mention a little pessimistic, maybe even nihilistic…”

“Damn, ___. You could have just said you didn’t want my swimmers. No need to hit a man where it hurts.”

You smile, fondly recalling the time you two played for the hospital basketball team, only for Yoongi to suspend you when your pass had gone awry and smacked him straight in the balls.

“Oh please, you recovered just fine. And we still won the championship that year against the nurses.”

The smile Yoongi forces out of him is no match for the way his heart is breaking underneath. But he looks at you, eyes sparkling and so excited about the prospect of having a baby, and immediately sets his own feelings aside. He could do this. He was your best friend, and as your best friend, your happiness was his number one priority. 

“Okay, I’ll help.”

“Thank you thank you thank you!” you crush him in a too-tight hug, his arms wrapping around you stiffly, before melting into it. Normally he would have pushed anyone else off by now, but you’d always been his exception to every rule he’d ever set for himself.

“So, what do you think about Hoseok from Finance?”

Yoongi freezes at the mention of the happy-go-lucky man with the heart-shaped smile and how he could immediately charm the pants off of anyone within his vicinity.

“Absolutely not,” he grumbles, walking away.

“Oh come on, why not? He has great fashion sense, can pull off any hair color, the nurses say he can dance well… Yoongi, YOONGI!”

After a tumultuous few months, which involved a rather precarious incident in which Yoongi had nearly gotten fired when he locked Taehyung, a cardiology fellow, in the bathroom after he’d gotten a bit too handsy with you at a party, Yoongi opens his apartment door one Saturday morning to find a comically large pink envelope on the outside.

The dozens of sperm-shaped balloons that fall out of the card have him jolting in surprise, and he looks up to find his across-the-hall neighbours, a mom and her daughter, staring at him dumbfoundedly, before swiftly slamming their door shut in his face.

I’m Getting Pregnant… And You’re Invited, the garish pink letters on the invitation read, and Yoongi wants to tell the stupid card to go shove all the balloons up its ass when he realizes in horror that you’d finally decided on someone. Without him.

Standing in the hallway with the huge mess around him, Yoongi wonders how despite changing people’s lives every day, he’d always managed to fall behind when it came to his own.

. . .

The obnoxious EDM bumping in your apartment is enough to make Yoongi’s ears bleed. Tugging at his hoodie, his eyes scan the crowd of people, recognizing more than a few people from the hospital. Frowning, he tries to run each one of them through his mind, wondering if you’d gone with Hoseok from Finance after all.

“Dr. Min!” Yoongi nearly chokes on his drink when Jimin from HR comes up to him, landing him a good-natured slap on the back. “You made it!”

“What the hell are you doing here, Jimin?” Yoongi deadpans. “Shouldn’t you be reporting this shit? I thought all this was supposed to be protected under HIPAA!”

“We’re all HIPAA-compliant here, Yoongi, except you,” Jimin chortles, before smirking at him. “Don’t think I don’t know that you’re the only one in your department who hasn’t submitted their training modules yet.”

“I-, I’ve been busy! You know, actually taking care of patients and stuff.” Yoongi knows Jimin is joking, but somehow still feels the need to defend himself. 

“I’m sensing some negative energy from you, Yoongi,” Jimin drawls, and Yoongi is sure he has to be drunk, waving what looks like a turkey baster in his face. “This is ___’s moment! We should all be happy for her!”

“Oh I’m sooo happy,” Yoongi grumbles, disappearing into the crowd to look for you.

“Dr. Min!” another voice calls out to him. “Wanna take a hit?”

Yoongi turns to see Jungkook, one of the medical students rotating in his unit, offering him a lit joint.

“Put that damn thing away, Jeon!” Yoongi scolds him, before backtracking. “On second thought, gimme that.”

All Jungkook can do is blink in surprise when Yoongi takes a drag of the joint, immediately feeling his irate energy subside just a tiny bit. Still, he was antsy. Where were you?

Yoongi takes another few hits, downs a few shots of soju and he’s overcome with the munchies. Reaching for the hummus and pita chips, he groans when the dip plops down, staining his pristine white hoodie. 

“Here, let me help you with that,” another disembodied voice calls out to him. Yoongi looks up at the sound, and is immediately taken aback.

Yoongi’s sure he’d never seen this dude at the hospital before. He was like, freakishly pretty. Tall, with dark hair and broad shoulders, and pink lips. He blinks, trying not to panic at the attractive man swiping the stain off his shirt.

“Yoongi!” you appear out of nowhere, wrapping him in another crushing hug. “I see you’ve met Seokjin.”

“I’m the donor,” the man called Seokjin reaches a hand out for him to shake, offering a blinding smile.

Fuck. Of course this stupidly attractive man was your sperm donor. Of course you’d want to have his baby. He was literally perfect. You probably had a crush on him. Hell, Yoongi kind of had a crush on him. 

“I’m gonna grab another drink,” you drunkenly lean on Yoongi for support. “You two have fun talking though!”

“___’s great,” Seokjin grins. “Super nice. Pretty hot too.”

“Why are you doing this?” Yoongi interjects bluntly. “I mean no offense, a guy like you, you could probably have anyone.”

“Ahh yeah,” Seokjin ruffles his hair, and Yoongi grits his teeth at how he still manages to look perfect doing that. “Money’s tight these days. A PhD in astrophysics at Harvard doesn’t exactly come cheap.”

Before Yoongi can make another smart comment, Seokjin is whisked away by Jimin and Hoseok from finance, the men slapping him on the back, hollering that it’s time to do the deed. He sees you disappear into your own room nervously, and can’t help himself from following you.

“Everything okay, ___?”

“NO!” you’re nearly bouncing off the walls. And there’s no kids to entertain in sight. “I’m freaking out!”

Yoongi’s next to you in seconds, taking you in his arms and letting your head lean against his shoulder. He’d discovered how much it calmed you down after one drunken night out where you’d basically recalled your childhood trauma from your parents’ divorce.

“Do you think I’m crazy, Yoongi? I want this so bad, but maybe this is the wrong way to go about it.”

“I think you want a family, ___. There’s nothing wrong with that. And I’ll be here every step of the way. Uncle Yoongi to the rescue.”

You giggle at his words, a dazed look in his eyes.

“You do act like a total dad.”

There’s a brief pause, silence falling in between you two. Your eyes peer into Yoongi’s and for a moment, he could swear you lean in, the shiny pink gloss on your lips sparkling in the dim light—-

Only to be interrupted by Jungkook bursting into the room, grabbing your hand and telling you its finally time.

One shot, Yoongi had promised himself. Only now he’s ten shots of soju deep and hiding in the fucking bathroom while the party rages on outside. The colors on the wall blend into each other, and Yoongi’s head throbs trying to figure out what he’s looking at. He smiles to himself when he sees its your meticulous pregnancy planning chart, filled with labs and calendars and lists of medications.

Lifting himself up off the floor, he stumbles, bracing himself against the toilet. He was about to hurl. In his stupor he hears something clatter, off to the side.

“Is someone in there?” the nervous voice of Kim Namjoon, one of the hospital’s talented surgeons, calls out from the other end. “I have to pee!”

Namjoon’s voice breaks Yoongi out of his daze, and he looks at the object lying on the floor.

Cum. A whole bucket’s worth of it, it looked like. The creamy white substance now lies swirling in your toilet bowl, and he feels his heart drop to his ass when he realizes it’s Seokjin’s. Oh fuck! It was Seokjin’s sample. Aka the sample you were supposed to shoot up in mere moments, to have the baby you’d been dreaming of for so long.

Yoongi tugs at his hair, wanting to scream at himself for ruining your plans, all because of his own stupidity. You’d be so mad at him. You’d probably yell at him in front of the entire hospital, hands on your hips, and your face would go all red.

He’s horrified when his dick twitches to life at the image of you cursing him out. How was it his fault that you were so hot and he was idiotically attracted to you?

A lightbulb goes off in his head, and Yoongi looks down again, caught in a face-off with Min. Jr. This was a very big problem with a very simple solution.

The pounding in his head continues as Yoongi drops his pants, getting right to work.

. . .

Thankfully, Yoongi doesn’t remember much about the night of your party. He thinks it’s a blessing, at least until you pounce on him in the hospital cafeteria a couple of weeks later.

Something about you is different, he thinks. You’d always been pretty but now you’re stunning, practically glowing from the inside out. He wonders if it has anything to do with stupidly handsome Seokjin when you tap him on the shoulder.

“It worked!” you blurt out, grinning from ear to ear. “I’m pregnant!”

Suddenly, it all comes back to Yoongi. His jealousy over Seokjin, the two of you nearly kissing in your room, the cup spilling into the toilet, the way Yoongi came with your name on his lips.

Shit.

A/N pt. 2: Thanks for reading! As always, any feedback or comments are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi 💜

#bts #micdropnet #bangtanbathhouse #kvanity #bts fanfiction #bts au #bts imagines #bts reactions #bts scenarios #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts fics #yoongi #min yoongi #suga #yoongi smut #suga smut #yoongi x reader #suga x reader #yoongi x you #suga x you #yoongi imagine #yoongi fic #suga imagine #suga fic #yoongi fluff #suga fluff #yoongi imagines #yoongi fics

[bettyfrommars]

I'm on Fire

Chapter 1: Black No. 1

biker!Eddie Munson x fem!artist!Reader

Part 1

Series Masterlist

🚨18+ Only, older!Eddie, tow truck driver Eddie, biker!Eddie, alcohol consumption, sex with someone other than reader, cheating (not on reader), slightly fuckboy!eddie, adult themes. Y/N is used several times in the first few chapters, as well as plenty of typos and I apologize for that. This was my very first reader insert series ever, and it's insane how much the characters and story have grown. I really appreciate those who have been on this journey with me, and those who continue to want to read it!

Word count: 3.3k

There is an instant spark of chemistry between you and the guy who rescues you from the side of the freeway in his tow truck, courtesy of Munson's Garage. While you've never met him before, your roommate has, and you learn a few things about Eddie Munson while he indulges in one of his late-night extracurricular activities, which is just one facet of the dark secrets in his life.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. You weren’t supposed to have a crush on your tow truck driver.

One second, you’re cruising along the freeway, blasting Linger by The Cranberries, looking forward to the future, and the next---your tire blows and you’re on the side of the road questioning when you will ever catch a break. You were trying to remember how far back the last payphone was as traffic sped by, blowing your hair into your face, when a big, mean looking, black tow truck with Munson’s Garage written on the door slowed down and pulled in front of you.

The guy behind the wheel waited for a few cars to buzz by before he dropped down from the cab, boots hitting the pavement, and made his way over to you. He’s wearing his long, dark hair tied back in a ponytail, black jeans with a wallet chain hanging at his thigh, and a button down blue work shirt that says Eddie on it. He’s muscular in a manual labor way, and you spot a few tattoos at first glance, just as he closes the distance between you.

“Come here often?” He asked, the side of his mouth lifting up as he squinted against the sun.

You hesitated, because you weren’t prepared for jokes, and then you shrug. “Yeah, I live here. It’s cozy, shame it’s so close to the freeway.”

He takes a pair of gloves out of his back pocket and you notice his warm, brown sugar eyes take a quick sweep up and down your body. “In that case, I might have to visit more often.”

You also weren’t ready for the teasing, sexual banter, but you could give as well as you got. “Careful. I bite.”

Of course, you don’t have a spare tire, and so the next option is for him to tow you back to his garage. He tells you to get comfortable in the cab of the truck while he hooks your car on.

Inside, you notice that it’s an older cab, but it’s clean and well taken care off. There’s an Iron Maiden sticker on the glove compartment, and a vanilla tree-shaped air freshener hanging from the CB radio. You scoot over, curious as a kitten, to see what other little pieces of his life you can pick up from the area, when you see photo of a little kid, maybe 2 years old, taped to the top of his dash. The toddler had thick dark hair and big, dark eyes, and you realize he must be a dad—the kid looked just like him. You remembered looking at his strong hands before he put his gloves on, and you didn’t see any rings, but most people in his profession chose not to wear them when they worked, as a safety precaution.

He climbed up into the cab behind the steering wheel and took his gloves off, stuffing them in the console between you, apologizing for how long it took. In your mind, he’d only been out there five minutes, but—time flies when you’re being a snoop.

The radio blared loud the second he turned the engine on (Would? by Alice in Chains) and you jumped in your seat, a yelp escaping your throat.

He cringed and turned the volume down. “My bad,” he laughed a little, giving you a wink when you look over at him, your palm flat on your chest, adrenaline coursing through you.

His shop was almost a half hour away, and the conversation stayed light. He asked you what you did for work, and when you told him that you were on staff at a gallery, but you wished you could be a full time artist—he was one of the few people in your whole life who didn’t make fun of you for it.

“You have no idea how much I relate to that,” he said, almost under his breath, shifting the truck into another gear.

You asked him how long he’d been in the area and he replied, “too long.”

He got quiet for a few minutes, and you shifted your eyes covertly to catch his jaw muscles flexing, like he was deep in thought about something he didn’t want to be thinking about.

You adjusted yourself on the vinyl seat with a creak of the upholstery. “So, did you grow up here?”

He opened his mouth for a beat, and then closed it again, as if he didn’t like the answer he was about to give. “I grew up all over the place. But I went to high school here, and then I left, and then I came back.”

You pulled your bottom lip over your top lip, looking out the window at a sea of fat cows grazing in a big, grassy field.

“I’m sure there are worse places to be,” you said aloud, although you meant for it to be a silent thought.

He scoffed. “You must be new here. Give it time.”

He had his hand high on the wheel, and he looked sideways over his arm at you. You could tell he wanted to ask you more, and you wanted to ask the name of the cute kid in the photo on his dash—but it suddenly felt like it was all getting too personal.

There was sudden static on the CB radio and the voice of an older man came through the speaker. “Munson, what’s your 20?”

Eddie reached over to take the handheld receiver off the hook under the glove compartment, the back of his hand brushing your knee as he did so.

He pushed the button on the side as he held it to his mouth. “On I-90, just passed Little River, on my way back.”

He let go of the button so that the other man could speak.

“Charlene dropped the Jaguar off again. Not a damn thing wrong with it, but she asked for you, specifically.”

Eddie swallowed, his eyes shifting to you, as if he was embarrassed or self-conscious about the conversation.

“...I told her I’d bring it by on my way home after work.”

The other end was silent for a bit and then, the older man gave a heavy sigh. “Son, I hope you’re not doing what I think you’re--”

“Talk to you when I get there, Wayne. I’ve got a customer in the cab with me,” and then Eddie hung up the receiver and switched the radio off with a click.

Back at Munson’s Garage you called your best friend, Katie, who you were supposed to meet for lunch, to talk her down from the ledge she was on, panicking over where you were.

“At first, I wanted to murder you, and then--” As Katie is talking, you see Eddie give you a thumbs up from across the garage to let you know the tire was on and your car was ready, and you mirrored the gesture. “...and then I was like, wait, maybe she’s in a ditch somewhere….and you were!”

Like any self-respecting, horny friend would, she asked if the tow truck driver that picked you up was hot while on the phone with you.

You’re watching Eddie pick up two tires and fling them onto a pile like they weighed nothing, muscles flexing in his forearms and hands; he catches you staring and smiles almost accidentally at you over his shoulder, before turning away. “Not really, I mean, if you like that sort of thing, I guess.”

There was a teenage boy at the front desk who looked like he was in training, and with shaking hands, he tallied you up for the price of the tow and the tire.

“Just the tire,” Eddie came up behind him, wiping his fingers on a rag. “The tow is on the house,” he lifts his eyes to you, and then looks down to make sure the kid got it right.

You thanked him, and as you were leaving, you saw the long, sleek, white Jaguar convertible with leather seats parked at the far end of the garage. You wondered who Charlene was, and why she chose that particular garage over all of the other high end, specialty repair shops in the area.

---------

That night, you were snuggled in front of a Golden Girls episode, dissociating in your bathrobe on the couch with your orange, long haired tabby cat named Charlie, when Katie, who was also your roommate, got home after a meeting at the high school where she taught English and creative writing.

“I didn’t get into an accident,” you assured her, turning the sound down on the TV. “I just blew a tire. I’ll still be able to make it to work tomorrow, unfortunately.”

The next night was a huge artist opening at the gallery, and all of the mucky mucks usually attended to buy high priced art and drink free champagne.

“Hey,” you went to the kitchen to squirt some of your cheap, refrigerated box wine into some glasses and brought one over to Katie. “You’ve lived here longer than I have. Do you know a woman named Charlene who drives a super fancy white, Jaguar convertible?”

“Charlene Gregson? The ex-supermodel, the wife of millionaire CEO John Gregson, the ones who just happen to have a summer home near here on the lake?”

You put your wine glass to your lips. “Sure, I mean, I guess. Does she drive a white Jaguar?”

Katie curled up at the other end of the couch and wrapped a blanket over her. “They have a ten car garage at their mansion, so I’m sure she has one in every color.”

“Wait, how do you know this?” You put your elbow on the top of the couch to rest your hand on your fist, squinting at your roommate.

Katie took a big gulp of her wine. “My sister, the one who runs her own carpet cleaning business, she’s been out there. They have these antique rugs that need to be cleaned a certain way.”

“So, she’s married?” You asked, feeling like you’re asking the same question over and over without actually asking it.

Katie shrugs. “As far as I know they still are. I mean, what happened? Did you run into her or something?”

You didn’t feel like retelling the entire debacle, so you trimmed it down a bunch. “I saw that car at the garage when I got my tire fixed, and someone mentioned that it belonged to her.”

Katie gave you a curious look.

You turned and noticed the way she was staring at you. “What?” You laughed as you asked it, turning your gaze back to the TV.

“So,” Katie said, her eyebrow raised. “Forget about Charlene. Tell me more about this tow truck guy. Is he single? Is he tall? Does he have sexy hands?”

You rolled your head to rest it on the back of the sofa. “Do you know a guy named Eddie?”

Katie ran her tongue over her teeth, thinking.

“He drives a tow truck? Works at Munson’s Garage?”

An invisible light bulb seemed to blink on above Katie’s head. “Eddie...Eddie Munson?”

The way she asked it gave you pause; your eyes shifted, and then you shrugged, “I didn’t ask for his last name, but I guess so.”

Katie tilted her head back, eyes wide. “Holy shit, I haven’t seen him around in a minute. He used to sell weed back in the day. I bought some from him a few times when I first moved here after college. But he left town for a year or two, I didn’t know he was back.”

You squished air around in your mouth, puffing your cheeks out as you listened to her. “Well, he’s back. He put a new tire on my car and he didn’t even break a sweat.”

“I remember him being...really hot, in like, a metalhead way,” Katie sipped her wine again. “Does he still have the long hair?”

You nodded, staring at the TV vacantly, picturing him in your mind as clearly as if he were right in front of you. You asked Katie if Eddie had a kid, and she had no idea. “The last time we smoked at his trailer, he was single with no kids, but that was—oh shit---a good 6 years ago.”

The next revelation made Katie jump as she remembered it: “Oh! He was in a band, too. The name had something to do with rust or decay, I never saw him play though, Dan and the rest of his D&D nerd friends worshiped him.” Dan was Katie’s younger brother by two years, and he asked you on a date a while back, but you turned him down, respectfully, being that you didn’t want it to mess with your friendship with Katie.

“That’s his garage, he runs it with his uncle.” Katie corrected your earlier statement. “There’s a rumor that it’s also a clubhouse for the Coffin Kings motorcycle gang, but who knows. In a town like this, there are a lot of rumors.”

You thought about his visible tattoos, including the cluster of bats near his elbow, some kind of monsterous puppet thing on his inner forearm, and there was something spelled out across his fingers, but you couldn’t read what it said.

There is an interlude in your conversation with nothing but canned laughter from the sitcom on TV, and then Katie changes the subject, recalling a dramatic story having to do with one of her colleagues that happened earlier that day.

-------

Eddie waited until everyone was gone before he closed up the garage, noticing that the new kid forgot to sweep the lobby, so he did it himself, mumbling about how it was hard to find good help these days. He had the Jaguar already loaded on the truck, but he needed to wait until after 8 to drop it off at her place.

Charlene was pulling his shirt up and undoing his belt, her mouth on his throat, as soon as she locked the front door behind him. He grabbed onto her wrists and held her in place, forcing her to back up as he walked forward.

There were several Magnum wrappers on the floor by the time he left her there after their final fuck in the shower. He picked up the evidence of their affair and took the wrappers with him, thinking that he couldn’t remember the last time he was with someone he cared about and trusted enough to not use some kind of protection. That same dark voice in his head told him that he’d never get that close to anyone ever again. “Get used to it, buddy. You’ll be alone forever,” the voice snickered.

------

Mrs. John Waterberry, who lived in the house across from Charlene Gregson, grabbed her 78 yr old husband by the arm just as they were getting ready for bed. She could see the tow truck pull up into Charlene’s driveway from their bedroom window.

“That’s five times in two months, John,” Mrs. Waterberry scampered for the binoculars in the desk drawer, putting them to her eyes and pointing them at the house. “Who on earth needs to have their brand new car towed that often?”

John Waterberry fussed to put his glasses back on and watched the big, black truck lower the delicate, expensive Jaguar to the ground with care. “I don’t give a damn, Louisa, let’s go to bed.”

Behind her, John got into bed and turned the lamp by the bed off, but Mrs. Waterberry hid behind the curtain and watched as the strange tattooed boy with the long hair went over and knocked at the front door. When Charlene answered, she was in her a skimpy bathrobe!

“John!” Mrs. Waterberry called to her husband. “She invited him inside again! I told you! Her husband away on a golfing trip and now this.”

“It’s none of our business, Louisa,” John mumbled, turning over on his side, facing away from her.

Mrs. Waterford ended up falling asleep, but her eyes snapped open when she heard the low grumble of the tow truck starting up again. She looked at the digital alarm clock on the nightstand: it was almost 1:00 in the morning.

------

Eddie popped a cigarette into his mouth and rolled the window down, turning his music up in the cab of the tow truck as soon as he was out of the gated lake community. (Black No. 1 – Type O Negative)

"I went looking for trouble, and boy, I found her,

she's in love with herself

she likes the dark

and on her milk white neck

the Devil's mark..."

He should’ve been feeling good, but the frown on his face was giving him a headache, his body telling his mind there was something wrong. He happened to catch a flicker out of the corner of his eye and turned to see a shiny sliver of something on the floorboard of his truck. He made sure there were no cars around and bent down to stretch his hand out and swoop it up. It was an earring; a little silver hoop, and he realized, with sigh, that it must’ve belonged to the woman he had in his truck earlier that day. The one who worked at an art gallery and didn’t have a spare tire in her car. The one with cute, quirky mannerisms and the beautiful eyes.

He sped up and shifted into the next gear, cigarette between his lips, and slipped the earring into his front pocket.

Finally back at the garage, Eddie parked the truck and opened the side door to get his bike. After a wide straddle and a few kicks of his foot, the Harley started up with a growl, loud pipes spitting, his hand with the metal rings twisting on the high handlebar. He had a gig with his band the next evening, but not until after he escorted Charlene to her function and pretended to be her body guard. The whole town had to know they were fucking; he had a hard time believing they were all so morbidly clueless.

While he shot down the highway on his chopper with the wind in his face, he reached over to feel for the outline of your earring in his pocket, and realized with a tiny flutter in his gut, that he had a valid excuse to look you up and see you again.

Part 2

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #stranger things smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson series #fem reader

[aureliaporter]

sleepless nights

summary: a lack of a certain childe means you can't sleep. how do you deal with it?

a/n: i was in ross with my mum and i heard the song "how do you sleep" by sam smith and this idea literally just slapped me across the face lmao

cw: probably cursing, mentions of unaliving, a fly (🤬), a ginger (childe lmao), gn!reader, teasing!childe (kinda?? i think), clingy!childe, sleepy!childe

TICK. TICK. TICK.

you groaned, rolling over in bed to glare at the clock. the seconds hand, ever unaware of your plight, continued to tick, only adding to your anger.

tick.

tick.

tick.

tock.

the moment the minute hand joined the symphony, moving just a hair to the side to demonstrate the passing of another sixty seconds, you cursed, sitting up angrily and throwing the bedsheets off of you.

tick.

tick.

tick.

you left the room, nearly slamming the door behind you but managing to hang on to your temper just enough not to. you leaned against the door, holding your head. you'd been trying to fall asleep for the better part of three hours, but you'd had no luck.

tick.

tick.

tick.

you cursed again, pushing off the bedroom door to stalk off to the kitchen, grumbling about a certain ginger the whole way. of course he'd ruined you enough to the point you couldn't sleep without him. of course.

..

..

..

at the lack of the ticking sound, you practically laughed in - slightly deranged - delight, slumping against the kitchen island. a fruit bowl was set in the center, sunsettias and apples stacked together in a cylindrical pattern. the lights were still off, but the moon was particularly bright - or particularly annoying - tonight, managing to shine in even past your curtains. but to be fair, they weren't blackout curtains.

bzzt.

bz bzzt.

bzt.

you lifted your head, frustration practically pouring out of you as you saw the two flies buzzing around. that was what you got for opening the windows in the summer.

you kept your eyes on the flies, both landing on the edge of the island nearby. with your right hand, you reached for a rag to whack them with, fingers closing around it before you moved quickly, managing to strike down one of them.

now for the other one.

this one seemed more intent on making your life hell, moving before you could even step towards it. your curses flowed freely as you tried to catch it.

"stay still so i can- archons, let me kill you!" you shouted at the fly, too enraptured in your battle to notice a smirking ginger leaning against the refrigerator.

"oh? and i thought i was the one with murderous tendencies," he teased, taking two long strides towards you and snatching the rag from you. "sit back and let me show you how it's done, comrade."

"call me that again and you can sleep at zhongli's instead tonight."

he merely shot you a grin, then focusing on the fly. he went for it once, twice, thr- and then he was off the rails, whacking the rag against anything in an attempt to kill the fly. you folded your arms, watching him with an amused smile as he finally ran out of patience entirely and summoned his water blades - wades? blaters? - to slice it in half.

silence blanketed the two of you before- "don't think for a second i'm gonna clean up those fly guts," you said, backing away with an exaggerated gesture to the floor. "also, what happened to your trip? i thought you were gone for another week?"

he groaned but obeyed, crouching down with a paper towel to pluck up the fly remains. "well, a certain balladeer managed to solo half the mission after some bloke insulted the traveler - y'know, that blonde girl with the floaty thing? who stopped osial? so we all got to go home early. and i know my darling was missing me, so it all worked out perfectly."

you chuckled, shaking your head. "see, i would believe that, if i didn't get a message earlier today from the fatui - do you know them, by chance?" you teased, crossing the room to the stack of mail and plucking off the letter at the top as he paled.

"wait- (y/n), hang on-" he pleaded, trying to snatch the letter from you.

"to the partner of the eleventh fatui harbinger," you read aloud, smirking, "it is my deepest regret to inform you that we have been struck by misfortune and will be returning a week late. you will be pleased to note that childe is uninjured, and will merely be late. bidding you a pleasant evening."

ajax had an awkward look on his face the entire time, eyes slightly widened and lips parting as he tried to think of a response. "w-well-"

"unless you're not ajax, i'm pretty sure you committed treason to the tsaritsa by abandoning your post," you said, folding the letter again. "you're gonna need a pretty good reason why, y'know."

he groaned, moving towards you with barely a moment's hesitation and wrapping his arms around you, embracing you tightly. "i missed you, okay?" he admitted lowly, squeezing you into him. "i couldn't sleep without you there. pantalone noticed and told me to go back, since a distracted agent is as good as a dead one."

you sighed softly, wrapping your arms around his waist. "i get it, hun," you said, stifling a soft smile. he might have thought you were just comforting him, but you really did get it. you'd nearly broken the clock in your shared bedroom just from frustration at a lack of sleep. "shall we head to bed, then?"

he didn't respond immediately, nuzzling his nose into your neck as if he was trying to memorize your scent. "ajax?" you asked, squirming slightly at the feeling.

"yeah, let's go," he said, loosening his grip the slightest bit to tug you back to your bedroom. you climbed onto the bed, stifling a yawn as he changed from his uniform to a baggy pair of pajamas, practically throwing himself on top of you with a grunt.

"geroffme," you groaned, trying to push him off. he listened, rolling onto the spot beside you to wrap you in his arms, pressing his lips against the back of your neck.

"archons, i missed you," he murmured, kissing along your skin. "i could barely think of anything aside from you, lovely."

"in the modern world, they call that 'simping'," you said, taking one of his hands to play with his longer fingers, folding them and stretching them gently, entranced. "i was like that, too. thank the archons i had the past few days off work, or i might've broken something."

he chuckled, his breath tickling your skin. "yeah, thank the archons," he said, stifling a yawn against the back of your neck. "'s it okay if i fall asleep now?" he asked, voice soft and cute and making you just want to squish his cheeks.

"you don't have to ask permission to sleep."

"but i wanna.. stay up 'nd talk to you."

"then stay up and talk to me, hun."

"but 'm tired."

you giggled softly, feeling him shift behind you as he spooned you. "sleep now, and we talk tomorrow. deal?" you offered, interlacing your hands and laying them on the bed, eyes tracking over every scar and mark staining his pale skin. beautiful.

"mkay," he mumbled, nuzzling into you. "i love you," he said, words slurring together sleepily.

a dopey grin tugged your lips up. "and i love you, even if you are a ginger."

he didn't seem to hear the second part of your sentence, falling asleep within seconds against you. and, soon enough, you were falling asleep too.

did this whole thing on my phone so very much a chance the formatting looks wonky!! my apologies :(

please take some sleepy ajax fluff this boy has my heart (i say this after reading ajax angst for like two hours today 😭)

anyways!! have a great day/night!! send in what you wanna see and i'll do my best!! also gonna go on vaca soon so dont know if i'll he able to keep up with posting daily but i will make my best attempts 💚✨

#childe fluff #ajax fluff #tartaglia fluff #childe x reader #ajax x reader #tartaglia x reader #childe x reader fluff #ajax x reader fluff #tartaglia x reader fluff #childe #ajax #tartaglia #genshin #genshin impact #genshin fluff #genshin x reader #genshin x reader fluff #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x reader fluff

[sempersirens]

sun bleached flies | five

masterlist

chapter summary: back to reader's pov, joel is issued a firmer warning, and old vices are revisited

warnings: 18+, mdni. previous dark!joel/raider!joel. angst. threat. violence. panic attack. mention of ptsd/nightmares. lotsa swearing. alcoholism/drug overdose. suicidal ideation.

a/n: i half proof-read this but editing was turning me inside out so i called it a day and pushed post. pls forgive me. love u all

You'd be lying if you pretended that the sight of Joel breaking down on your front porch didn't tug both sides of your mouth into an uncharacteristically sadistic smile.

Big, scary Joel Miller. The man who put the fear of God in most of Jackson's residents each and every day. He was a ghost story in this town; rumours of his past life were exchanged in low voices, whispers gliding through pools of beer at the Tipsy Bison after dark.

He had been a ghost to you, too. An intangible apparition that left you feeling like a little girl afraid of the dark.

But here he was, on your doorstep, sobs racking through his body and tears falling from his eyes.

He looked pathetic. Powerless.

You had an overwhelming urge to touch him as he wept. To place a hand on his upper arm or rake your fingers through his hair and pull, pull, pull. To ground yourself in the moment, to prove to yourself this was real. Your fingertips swelled with power. The feeling was electric; you momentarily understood how men like him became infatuated with the sensation.

You'd grown to realise that men didn't like it very much when they were faced with facts of their wrongdoings. You had seen it first in your father. How he would attempt to convince you, and himself, that he was a good man. That he had tried everything to bring your mother back from the pit she called home, but that she was too stubborn. That it was her decision to crawl further and further into the darkness.

It was interesting, to you at least, how your father had slowly managed to believe his own lie. You had watched as he'd wiped his slate clean and moulded a new identity that only existed in words, not actions.

You looked on as Joel did the same. You watched him come undone, clinging onto the wooden railing for support, assuming the same stance as when you'd confirmed his suspicions about Mia's parentage.

It felt like watching a predator behind five layers of glass at the zoo. You couldn't help but stare at his insides mangling his body; his knuckles white against the railing, shoulders rigid against his neck, jaw clenched and throat humming with gulps of air between sobs. It looked unnatural, like seeing a polar bear sprawled against a cold rock on a summer's day in Georgia.

Repeatedly turning up here, at your home, was one thing. But to demand a right to see your daughter? His unrelenting audacity was astounding; it was the self-confidence only a man who had lied to himself over and over could pull off.

"I need you to quieten down, Joel. I have neighbours." You warned in a harsh whisper, afraid of providing Jackon with a buzz of gossip tomorrow morning.

You pulled him by the arm and dragged him inside to ensure his attention. Pinning him against the front door, taking a second to commend your own strength knowing he could put you on your ass in seconds, you pressed the blade from your back pocket against the base of his throat.

"You make a single move toward those stairs or do anything to wake my daughter, I will gut you. Understand?"

"Yes, ma'am." He choked in response.

You released your weight from him, finally realising just how big he actually was. He towered over you, his broad shoulders eclipsing the entire width of the doorframe. You wondered if he had stayed beneath your grip solely for your benefit.

"Sit down." You gestured toward the sofa, pacing back and forth as he obeyed.

"M'a good father, y'know." He hiccuped, face buried in his hands.

"I'm sure your Father of the Year award got lost in the mail." You retorted under your breath.

"I may not be a good man, but I've always been a good father. Took down all those Fireflies for Ellie. But now she don't wanna talk to me, she don't even look at me most days."

You weren't entirely listening as he mumbled into the palm of his hands, his body still jolting from time to time with poorly contained sobs.

"Well what did you do to piss her off?"

"Doesn't matter."

"Look, Joel. As much as I love our little heart to hearts, you nee-"

"Mommy?" You hadn't noticed Mia come into the room. Your muscles froze.

"Hey, sweetheart. Couldn't sleep?"

"I heard voices." She rubbed her eyes with little fists.

"I'm sorry we woke you little bird, let me come and tuck you back in."

You moved protectively toward Mia, herding her away from Joel like a shepherd at the sight of a fox in the distance of his flock.

"You were at my birthday party." Mia croaked, peaking around your legs to look at Joel.

He'd straightened his posture as soon as Mia's small voice had startled you both, and now he was leant forward ever so slightly.

There was something you couldn't quite put your finger on reflecting in his eyes. The effects of half a bottle of whiskey, most likely.

"Yes, I was, little lady. Did you have fun?"

"Okay, that's enough, le-" you tried to catch her before she slipped through the gap in your legs.

"Yes, thank you. But the other little girl ate the last of my cake."

Joel chuckled, resting his elbows on his knees with his fingers intertwined.

"That'll be my Ellie. You'll have to forgive her, she ain't had cake in a real long time."

You quickly caught the tear threatening to fall down your cheek.

Seeing the two of them connecting so effortlessly felt like driving past a car crash. You didn't want to look, you wanted to grab Mia in your arms and run as far away as possible, but you couldn't help but stand and stare.

All of their similarities, the quirks and characteristics you could never place in your own daughter suddenly lined up.

The way she looked through her eyelashes with those big brown doe eyes, the slight hook of her nose that you had come to terms with belonging to a stranger.

It was a haunting collision of where you'd come from and where you were headed, your past and future hanging before you with fingers and toes of their own. The man who had made you wish you could tear at your skin until there was nothing left, and the girl who gave you the needle to sew yourself back together. All you could do was stand and watch.

"That's enough, now. Upstairs to bed, Mia." You choked out, placing your body in between her and Joel as if it could stop the same blood from running through them both.

You ushered Mia up the stairs, tucking her into bed with a kiss on the forehead.

Sitting on the edge of her bed, you placed a hand on her cheek and spoke in a low whisper.

"Mia, my love. If you ever see that man in town and I'm not with you, you are not to speak to him. Do you understand?"

"Is he bad?" She whispered in response.

"He's sick, baby. He was outside and alone for a very long time. I just really need you to promise me you'll stay away from him."

"Is he infected?" Her big eyes searched yours for an answer.

"No, sweetheart. It's his mind that's sick."

"Can I get it? The thing that makes him sick?"

"Never. You have honey running through your veins, little bird." You smoothed her hair down, placing a small kiss on her cheek as she giggled.

"Okay, mommy. I promise."

"Good girl. I'll see you in the morning."

She pulled the duvet up to her chin, her eyes fluttering softly shut. You closed her bedroom door and made your way back down the stairs to Joel lingering by the front door. His hands were crumpled in his jeans pockets, eyes concentrating on the wooden floor.

You thought he was about to say something, but rather than hear him out any longer you swatted your palm flat against his chin with all the force you could muster. As the back of his head hit the door with a thud, you connected your knee with his crotch, bringing your face down to his as he doubled over with a groan.

"You must've misheard me before. Pull this shit again and I'll make sure no woman has to suffer the misfortune of putting up with you, daddy of the year, ever again."

Feeling around the side of his dangling body, you turned the doorknob and let him stumble backwards into the night.

━━━━━━━━

"We still on for tonight?" Greg pressed about an hour into your morning patrol.

You'd wondered when the dreaded topic of drinks was going to rear its ugly head. In all honesty, you were far too tired from your poor night's sleep to do anything after patrol, but you were equally too tired to argue.

One drink wouldn't hurt, you told yourself. Hell, you might even manage a full night's sleep with the help of a glass of red.

"Sure. Tommy and Maria pick Mia up from school on Tuesdays, anyway."

"Great, I'll swing by yours around 8?"

"No, that's okay. I'll meet you at the Bison."

Hesitant to host yet another unwanted guest, you attempted to put as much distance between him and your home as possible.

You weren't a particularly antagonistic woman, but knowing Joel had arrived at your front door last night just short of a suit of armour boasting about how he just couldn't stand to hear you spoken about in such a way almost spurred you on to see through your plans with Greg. Joel's southern drawl, which wasn't really all that charming, coated each syllable that fell from his mouth with a sickly, lazed attempt at chivalry. Sometimes you thought he dropped half a word simply to conceal the rot in his chest.

Let him disapprove, you thought, remind him of his place: out of your business. Out of your life.

"Won't believe who I had a run-in with last night at the Bison. Tommy's big brother, Joe?"

You rolled your eyes.

"Don't play coy, Greg. You know his name is Joel."

"Whatever. He's fuckin' nuts. Smashin' his glass around, stormin' out in a damn tantrum like he ran the place."

"That so? What did you say to antagonise him?"

"You think I'm such a troublemaker, huh?" You quietly thanked god that you were riding ahead of Greg, or you're sure you would've caught a stomach-turning glint in his eye at the insinuation you actually thought about him, ever.

As the afternoon meandered into dusk, you wondered how in hell you were going to cope with a double shift of Greg. The leftover bottle of wine from Mia's birthday flickered in your subconscious. A scene played out in your mind of Maria smelling the sweetness on your breath, backing you into a corner and locking eyes with you the way only she could manage.

You hadn't drunk alone since what Maria had coined the incident; you were surprised at her absent-mindedness in leaving the bottle behind in the first place.

Maybe she was testing you.

Perhaps she had undertaken a quiet hypothesis crafted between her and Tommy, one whispered between pillows after the lights went out.

Let's see how long it takes for her to break.

Dr. Lee's voice rang in your ears. Love is conditional and unconditional. He had said. You are not always walking a tightrope - sometimes you are simply walking. Most often, you felt like the rope.

You had watched your mother's descent into paranoia, only a couple of months before she opted for opioids instead. Maybe that was your destiny; a bottle-shaped grave with the fingers you slipped through muddying your favourite dress with handfuls of dirt.

Soon enough, you and Greg were pulling yourselves from your saddles, exchanging pleasantries and specifics about meeting later on. You found yourself on autopilot, calculating the quickest route home to swallow down whatever feeling was clawing at your throat.

Maybe you were imagining it, but your front porch seemed to linger with Joel's presence. Approaching your door, you could see the ghost of his shape leaning against the wooden railing, you could still smell the musk of his skin, hear the thud of his body hitting the door. The latter made you smile at least.

On the other side of the door sat that stillness you had to fight to not let swallow you. You could never adjust to the emptiness that tried so hard to engulf you, so instead, you sought to destroy it.

An hour passed. Relaxing into the familiar warmth finally seeping through your skin, you caught your reflection passing the mirror on the way out and smiled. Lips stained and teeth bared. You tipped your chin to the sky and searched the ceiling for any hint of a higher being.

"Jesus, if you're there, make this quick." You spoke to the peeling wallpaper.

━━━━━━━━

Maybe nobody was listening.

You had decided it was easier to surrender to Greg's ego, accepting that he in fact had no interest in conversing with you, but talking at you.

You tried not to dwell on the fact that you hadn't uttered more than a couple of words in the past hour, but he seemed content with that.

One thing Greg was good for was his willingness to keep your glass full. His stories eventually all merged in to one, you didn't care to differentiate the names or places.

You hated his mouth. The way words shaped his lips, the strings of saliva stretching from his tongue to teeth as he boasted about how many infected he had cleared a couple of months ago.

"I was supposed to be patrolling more dangerous locations, but Maria wanted someone more senior on the perimeter." He lied.

Before you could endure any more of his heroism, Tommy came barging through the door, his face flushed but simultaneously sickly pale. He only needed to call your name once before you were on your feet, jogging toward him. You hoped he mistook your stumbling for urgency.

“Tommy?” You attempted to keep your breathing regulated.

His response floated in the air around you, never truly sinking in until the words Mia and some kinda allergic reaction fell from his mouth.

You clutched your stomach, unsure if the liquor was finally catching up with you or if your gut knew something you couldn't bring yourself to process. Tommy called your name, underestimating your speed powered by instinct, an invisible string tying you to her, tugging, tugging, tugging.

"I'm coming," you breathed, words disappearing as quickly as they'd formed. "I'm coming. I'm coming."

Maria and Tommy's front door was wide open, scurrying bodies illuminated in the rectangular light running to and fro.

You squeezed your eyes tight, for just a second.

"Please." You begged.

Is anybody still listening?

taglist: apparently my tags don't always work so fingers crossed these come thru? sorry if i forgot anybody - if you want to be added/removed please lmk! @warm-tea-and-otp @mrsquill @ashleymsnodgrass @bluetattoos @mabermaple @hiroikegawa @casssiopeia @joeldjarin @southernbe @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @cool-iguana @drewharrisonwriter @none-of-this-makes-any-sense @randomhoex @ilovepedro @koshkaj-blog @ejuliet999 @love-the-abyss @jellybeanxc @mabermaple @radsanchez @powellssaturn @ok-boke @phoebe13 @ahintofkiwistrawberry @smexy-bucky-waifu @withasideofmeg @darkroastjoel @willowsvalley @forestfaeriequeen @radsanchez @moonlightdivine @noisynightmarepoetry @mysingularitybts @misshoneypaper @ezzynf @spideyyhoe @runningmom94 @disassociation-daydreams @serendipity22086 @lionlena @shotgun-shelby @daddy-din @dins-riduur-anthe @phoebe13 @bageldaddy @sunnyskyapplepie @jenispunk @zeida @joeldjarin

#joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #my fic #the last of us #tlou fanfiction #joel miller x female reader #joel tlou #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel x reader #dee writes #fic: sun bleached flies

[sergeantsporks]

WATCHING AND DREAMING SPOILERS

Writing request: Luz tells everybody about what she saw in the Realm In Between. Including the weird Hooty in the Titan’s eye. They spend a while questioning and investigating Hooty’s origins, increasingly confused and terrified.

Gus held an illusion microphone to Luz’s face. “Did she look like King?”

“A lot, yeah.”

“Was he as big as the Isles?”

Luz tilted one hand back and forth. “At the end? She was bones, huge when she disappeared. But when I was talking to him… you know what, how about I just draw him for you?”

King’s tail wagged back and forth. “Yes!”

Luz sketched a pear, adding limbs and claws and… she paused halfway through drawing Papa Titan’s face. One of his eyes… “Hey, Hooty? You, uh…. You wouldn’t know anything about… Look, one of her eyes was missing and had a… well, a you dangling out of it. Do you know why?”

“Of course I do, hoot. That’s where I was born.” Hooty bobbed up and down. “Why do you ask?”

King grabbed Hooty’s face in his hands. “Hooty. Hooty. You’re telling me that you lived in the titan’s eyeball, and you didn’t realize I was a titan?!”

“How would I know that? I didn’t live in your eyeball. Geeeze.”

Luz pinched her nose. This was going to be a frustrating conversation, wasn’t it? “Hooty. If you lived in the Titan’s eyeball… why did you leave? How did you get here?”

“Oh.” For a creature without shoulders, Hooty was incredibly good at shrugging. “Evelyn felt bad about taking the eye for her portal door, and offered me a place to stay at her house. Or in her house? I picked in her house.”

Willow’s jaw dropped, and she glanced at Hunter. “Wait, Evelyn? Like, from the brothers Wittebane story in Gravesfield Evelyn? You knew her?”

“Told Gus all about it in our interview!”

Everyone twisted around to look at Gus.

“What?” he demanded, “I stopped listening five minutes in. Have you heard him ramble? He told me every single thing he’s had for breakfast since he spawned! Do you know how many times I heard the phrase ‘and then I ate a bug?!’ Too many times, Luz. Too. Many. Times.”

“Okay,” Luz said slowly, “Hooty, explain. Start at the beginning.”

“Don’t say that,” Gus told her in a strangled whisper, “Luz, what have you done?”

“Well, it all started the day I hatched inside of the titan’s eyeball,” Hooty began, apparently oblivious to Gus’ distress, “I don’t remember it! Not a single thing! But I remember crawling around in the titan’s eye.”

King looked like he might be sick. “Doing… what?”

“Eating it, of course! But then maggots started spawning, so I ate those, and that’s when I realized how tasty bugs were!”

“But… you’re a bug demon, aren’t you?” Hunter asked tentatively, “Isn’t it… weird… to eat bugs?”

Hooty stared at Hunter for a long, long moment, his eyes narrowing as he considered what Hunter said. Hunter shifted nervously, but then Hooty’s eyes popped back open. “Nope!”

“The titan,” Luz pressed, “You were living in his eyeball, eating maggots, and then…”

“There was a great squelching noise, and the eyeball was ripped away! A great flood of light shone through, and I was left hanging out of the socket.”

“And then?” Luz asked again.

“Then I found out just how many bugs there were in the world. Bugs everywhere! Buzzing all around! Grown-up maggot flies, beetles, worms—”

Luz had gotten used to Hooty—or so she thought. Every so often, he’d casually reveal some extra horrifying feature of his, and she’d be left in the lurch again. As far as the way he talked, she was usually confident she could handle it. But right now, she wanted to shake him until all the answers fell out.

“Evelyn,” she interrupted, “She took out the eyeball?”

“Yep! She said she was very sorry, but she needed it for her door, and then asked if maybe I’d like to come along, and I said will there be bugs, and she said more than you can eat, which I said wasn’t likely since I’m miles of empty tube, and she laughed, and I followed her home. And she dug a burrow for me, and I jumped in, but then I found the wood of the house. And there were termites! So I ate them, and burrowed into the house. Boy was she surprised when I stuck my head out the door.”

“And—the portal?”

“You mean Eda’s portal?”

“Yes—did Evelyn build it?”

“I don’t know. I was busy. No bugs were getting in on my watch. I ate a beetle, then a fire bee, then a worm, and then a fly, and then another fly, and another fly, and then I ate Evelyn’s kid, because I thought she was a large fairy, but Evelyn made me spit her back up. And then I ate another beetle, and an ACTUAL fairy, and—”

Gus pressed pillows against his ears. “I warned you! Make him stop!

“—and then I ate a really big beetle that was all shiny gold and white when it came to bother Evelyn—”

Hunter coughed. “Is he talking about Belos?”

“—but I spit it back up because it was the wrong kind of slimy inside, and it scurried off, and I never saw it again! And then I ate a whole nest of fire bees, and a—”

Luz held her hands up in a T. “I’m sorry, timeout, Hooty, go back, you ate Evelyn’s kid? And also maybe Belos?!”

“I was eating bugs and finding out what wasn’t bugs.” Hooty arched his neck, as if trying to appear dignified. “Lulu says I have an inquisitive mind.”

“You’ve got an inquisitive stomach, at least,” Gus muttered.

“So… about Evelyn…”

“Not a bug.”

“Right, but the portal, Belos—”

“Also not bugs.”

Luz almost growled. “Okay, but the house—”

“Not a bug.” Hooty tilted his head to the side. “Waaaait… if I’m a bug… and I’m the house… have I failed? Is the enemy within? Can I eat the house? Will it end, or will I become an endless ouroboros, the bird tube eating its own house?”

Luz blinked. “Uh…”

“Well! Much to think about! Bye, Luz!”

Hooty snaked out of the room, returning to his place in the door. Luz groaned, putting her head in her hands. “Why do I feel like I know less than when we started?”

Gus patted her shoulder, nodding solemnly. “The Hooty effect, Luz. Welcome to the club.”

#toh #the owl house #toh hooty #luz noceda #toh fanfiction #my writing #asks #writing requests

[bunny-yan]

i love your writing and characters so much, like your ideas are too interesting! and i love the way you write spitfire mc's, the ones that are more pissy about their situation than scared lolol

If you're still taking requests could you possibly do a third part to the hero? i love that guy tasman, and if you wanted to, include some non-con? i just feel like at this point he's gotta be up to his wits end of being patient, especially if his little captive is still ogling the window like they're more interested in those trees than talking to him, or even still thinking of trying something sneaky.

keep up the amazing work, i hope all your bubble baths are very relaxing and your water is always crisp

awwww! thanks so much for the kind words. i do like writing reactions in different ways and i don't know if it's just me but i find it much more satisfying when a yan is forced to bend you to his will, ya know? don't want to make his job too easy ;)

TW: non-con, more lime than lemon, violence, domestic abuse, threats, mentions nudity, abs NO minors —

He was sitting on the bed, head resting on clasped hands, watching you. It would’ve made you uncomfortable, but then again, air existed. It was nothing to get upset about. 

You were pretending he didn’t exist and it was going pretty well considering his anger issues could destroy the world if they went unchecked. But he was sitting there, silently drilling holes into your body for the last couple of hours. 

He’d made attempts to appease you, attempts that had failed the moment he tried because he didn’t exist. 

Food would appear out of thin air and you would look at it before turning your head and continuing to gaze out of the window. 

Flies would buzz around your ears. You weren’t sure how they got inside considering the window was sealed shut with magic, but you swatted them away nonetheless. 

You didn’t turn your head at the sound of his fist balling, sounding as if he broke every bone in each of his fingers. You steeled yourself so you wouldn’t flinch away or react. You wouldn’t give him the time of day. 

“Is this tantrum meant to get underneath my skin? You should know better than to test my patience. Acting like a rebellious child won’t achieve the results you expect.”

A rebellious child. What an amazing thing to call the lover whose attention you’re so desperate for. As for getting underneath his skin, his reaction proved this was an effective method to get him angry. It isn’t like you hadn’t known before. Tasman hated being ignored. 

You’d pretended to give him the silent treatment after a mini dispute when the two of you were arguing when you were younger and he’d followed you around the village, asking if you were angry with him repeatedly past the disappearance of the sun. His young worried face was too pitiful to ignore, but you sensed something ominous the longer you refused to speak to him. 

The two of you grew up together. If he though you didn’t know about the things he liked and disliked, he was sorely mistaken. 

Getting comfortable as you gazed out in the distance to view the vast forest beyond the city made him clench his jaw so tightly you thought he’d break it. You had to tell yourself not to smile, but it was hard to resist a slight quirk at the edge of your lips. 

“I am trying my best to give you what you want. As long as you don’t ask for ridiculous things, I can award the world to you. Please, just talk to me.”

As if your freedom was a menial desire. You no longer had the ability to choose what you ate, what you wore, whether or not you went outside, all things you’d surely taken for granted before you were whisked away to this sacred cell of his. It might’ve seemed ridiculous to argue about what you decided to wear or whether or not you were going to eat, but at the end of the day they were the only options you had. 

Your basic liberty was seen as a luxury, as something that only he could grant if you were on your best behavior and it made you want to gouge his eyes out for acting as if he was being so benignant. 

A small huff was all you let out in response to his words, telling yourself not to let him anger you, you tried thinking of what you would do if you got the chance to start over. Would you live on a farm? Maybe marry and help your significant other with their responsibilities whether they be a restaurant owner with an inn or a blacksmith that managed swords for new and upcoming adventurers. You didn’t think you could be a scholar. Not that your intelligence was inadequate, on the contrary. It would’ve been your first choice in terms a well-paying job if you weren’t afraid of feeling suffocated in the offices scholars tended to inhabit. 

You had enough of enclosed spaces. Working on a farm could provide the fresh air you desperately yearned for and smithing while running a shop would provide you with plenty of opportunities to meet people from all sorts of backgrounds. Both would be hard work. Especially if you compared the leisurely role as the hero’s hostage where you could be waited on hand and foot if you so desired, but you’d take anything if it meant a life beyond his obsessive desperation. 

Knocked out of your daydream by the sound of footsteps coming closer to where you were, you tensed when he sat beside you, his body pressing into your side as he begged for your eyes. 

“Can’t you see that I’m doing my best?” His hand tentatively touched your back before he slowly wrapped it around waist, eyes sliding slowly to your lips and then your neck. 

How long had it been since you’d allowed him near you. You were hell bent on scratching at him like a feral animal whenever he came near, both with your hands and words so he’d wanted to give you space to soothe your anger, but the longer he kept his distance, the more you required from him. 

Shying away from his touch when he wanted to embrace you, his eyes when the two of you took meals together, his words when he professed his love for you. It was a wonder that you let him as close as you did in this moment. 

Pulling you closer, he whispered, “I’m trying.” before placing lips on your neck, bordering on your collarbone, as his hands squeezed your side. 

His desire for you hadn’t waned in the slightest. 

Tasman believed after so many lives and time apart his desperate craving would have been relieved, but it had only grown stronger. He was plagued with thoughts of your body writhing underneath his, wondering how your skin would feel as his rough hands fought to be gentle. How each and every inch of you would taste, whispering how he’d take his time to memorize everything, from the way you moved to the sounds you would make. 

How you would look…

Head snapping to him, the hopeful sentiment splintered at the sight of utter revulsion in your eyes. 

Shielding his broken heart with anger, he grabbed the collar of your shirt before you could move away and pinned you against the window. 

“What are you hiding?” he asked, voice seething as he regarded you suspiciously. 

You were frozen in shock, unsure where this outburst came from. One moment, he was attempting seduce you, the next he was angry, practically choking you as he shoved you against the magic enforced glass. 

“You’ve never been this quiet and the minute I get close you try to move away, did someone give you something to leave me? A key?” 

He began pulling at your clothes, shocking you further as the fabric began to rip away, beginning to expose every inch of your body. 

“A magic circle?” 

His accusations continued and despite you breaking your silence to yell for him to stop, pushing him away, and holding on to the clothes he began to remove, he refused until your clothes were in a tattered heap on the floor. 

Shielding your nudity, you glared at him, his cold gaze regarded you closely. 

“You’re crazy.” you told him, trying to keep your voice from wavering from the sheer embarrassment and shame you felt from not being able to stop him. 

He was the hero. Your strength was comparable to a grain of sand if he was your opponent, but the rationalization didn’t make you feel any better. 

His eyes seemed to soften at your words, becoming more focused but not completely losing the haze they confined. 

“I’m sorry,” he began, “But you have to understand my hesitancy to trust you given your actions in the past.” His eyes made you shiver at the way they roamed across your figure, looking unapologetic as studied you, eyes lingering in the areas you shielded. 

“Get out.” you said through gritted teeth, unable to shake the ugly discomfort in your gut. 

You needed him to leave. He had to go if you were going to feel comfortable and safe. 

“This is my room as well.”

“Get. Out.”

“I understand that my reaction may have been a bit rough, but there is no reason for you to be upset to this degree. If you had simply talked to me, it wouldn’t have come to this.”

Standing up, you couldn’t stop yourself from getting into his face as you yelled, “Get out, you asshole!”

A hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer as lips were suddenly on yours. You struggled against his hold, momentarily forgetting to shield yourself as your fists beat against his body, attempting to shove him off of you or arch your body away from his kiss, but he followed you. 

Your voice was muffled by the tongue that attempted to slither its way past your defenses, feeling hot as it battled your for dominance yet strangely like iron when you attempted to crush your teeth around it. Pain reverberated through your skull and Tasman took you momentary docility as an opportunity to take things further. 

Pulling you to the bed, he continued to kiss you passionately, flinging away his gloves as his hand roamed from your chest to harshly squeezing your ass before rubbing your legs and stroking your inner thigh. 

You felt him smile in the kiss when he felt your body trembling, your glare slowly melding with fear the longer his assault continued without pause. 

When he finally  backed away, you were breathing hard and in an attempt to catch your breath, your chest heaving from the lack of oxygen. 

Tasman smiled, satisfied with the way you responded, he began to slide a wandering hand up and up your leg. Fingers calloused from continuous monster subjugation, you flinched away from his unrepentant touch before your hand intercepted his before he got too close. 

“Tasman, stop. Get off of me.”

Looking into your eyes, you wanted to shrivel at the sight of his glare. 

Why did you continue to push him away‽ 

Gripping your forearms, he forced them to the bed as he got in your face. 

“Is there some other bastard you’d prefer to be doing this with?”

What?

“I didn’t think to have the barrier react if you got too close to someone else. I didn’t think I’d have to worry about anyone from our village unless you’d managed to attract some useless noble up here.”

“There’s no one.” you said, deciding against lying and saying you did have a secret lover in case he burned the capital down looking for them. 

“You’re lying.” he said, squeezing your arms tighter as he glared at you. 

You were tired of hearing things like that from him of all people. 

“How am I supposed to meet someone if you keep me locked in this room‽” you shouted, struggling beginning anew. If it bothered him, he didn’t say anything about it. 

“You’d find a way.” he said, releasing one of your arms to caress your face. “You simply love torturing me.”

His thumb brushed against your lip, a hidden desire springing to life as his eyes met yours. 

“If you’re telling the truth, I can’t understand why you’re being obstinate about this.” 

Leaning closer, he brought his lips to the space just below your ear as he placed a chaste kiss there. “I simply want to make the person I love feel good.” he said, voice taking on a sultry tone. 

If it had been three lifetimes ago, you would’ve considered it. 

If it’d been the year before he barged into your escape and confined you after, you might’ve considered it. 

Even as every piece of your heart rejected him, your soul was desperately pleading for you to forgive him, to take this opportunity to climb into his arms and love him how you were always meant to, but you wouldn’t. 

You wouldn’t disgrace the you who’d discovered what heartbreak was after a first, second, and third failed love. You wouldn’t betray the you whose hands had grown old and wrinkled, waiting for something that would never come. You wouldn’t forgive him as long as he continued to act as if he had done nothing wrong while demanding you give him your everything, everything you would’ve happily handed over if he’d considered what it felt like to be repeatedly betrayed by the very person your soul constantly cried out for. 

“I don’t ever want to see you again.”

He froze, fear coiling around your insides at the expression on his face that you couldn’t see. His hand loosened around your forearm, gripping the bed, you thought he was finally coming to his senses before you heard the bed creak. 

The suffocating weight of his magic presence hit you a moment later, making you want to gag, but a hand clamped around your mouth, forcing your head to the bed before you could turn over and dry heave. 

“Lover, how cruel.”

He looked at you with an expression that you couldn’t distinguish as anger or sorrow, but it was terrifying. 

His mouth made its way to your neck, kissing you sensually before his teeth buried themselves into your skin, drawing blood and eliciting a muffled scream from you at the vicious way his teeth pierced your body. 

Your hands tried to push him away, both wrapping around his wrist to uncover his hand from your mouth, but he ignored your attempts. Turning your head to the side, his ran his tongue across the teeth marks he made, pouring enough magic into the wound so it would stop bleeding, but not enough to get rid of the mark or alleviate the pain you felt. 

“I love you.” he sighed, his hand coming up as he caressed the side of your body, resting before his thumb caressed your nipple. 

You gaped at him with petrified eyes, unable to move at the cold gaze he stared you down with as he continued to press chaste kisses into your neck, trailing to your chest. 

He removed his hand from your mouth, using both to focus on teasing your body. 

“T-Tasman,” you began in a quiet voice, but the look in his eyes silenced you. 

“Shhhh.” 

Tipping your head up by your chin, he pecked you on the lips before placing a kiss on your nose and forehead. 

“I’m just going to show you how much I love and I want peace and quiet, okay?”

Memories of a barn flooded your mind as you thought back to your younger days when you had last tried to use the silent treatment with Tasman. Bruised hands held together above your head, hay prickling your skin, and heavy breathing from above. 

“Not a single word, lover.”

Tasman had never reacted well to the silent treatment.

#yandere #yandere oc #yandere x you #male yandere #yandere x gn reader #yandere x darling #yandere x reader #yandere male #ask #gn reader #yan!tasman #yandere hero

[pengychan]

[Good Omens] Renunciation

Summary: Beelzebub's monotonous day in Hell takes a turn when a naked, amnesiac Archangel shows up with a cardboard box and no idea where he is. [Or: Gabriel actually takes the elevator all the way down to Hell at the first try.] Pairing: Archangel Gabriel/Beelzebub Rating: G

Do you ever think that Gabriel was only one push of a button away from getting to Beelzebub immediately and sparing everyone a literal hell of a lot of trouble.

***

Something was up in Hell.

The Lord of the Flies didn't have to wait for a wide-eyed demon to burst in their throne room to know as much. They could hear something going on in the upper levels, a buzzing of energy and disconcerted muttering coming together in a cacophony of utter bewilderment. They had frowned and leaned back on their throne, idly wondering how long it would take for someone to come fetch them; that someone had come quickly enough in the form of a demon whose name they really couldn’t be bothered to remember.

What they sure would never forget were the words out of the demon’s rotted mouth. 

“Lord Beelzebub! It’s the Archangel Gabriel - he’s here!”

… What.

“What?”

“He’s here in Hell, and he’s not… he’s not right. It’s like he’s lost his mind, or-- he’s just standing there by the entrance and--” 

Whatever they were about to say next was lost to Beelzebub, who immediately vanished in a burst of sulfur and fire to reappear at the entrance, where the commotion was. Their appearance caused several demons to yelp and hastily step out of the way, but the vast majority of those present in the crowded room barely turned, their gaze still fixed on… on…

Well. It was Gabriel all right. Standing there with a wide smile on his face, barely hampered by confusion, naked but for a cardboard box in his hands. Beelzebub blinked.

What in Satan’s name is going on.

“Well, this is new,” they heard a known voice - Furfur? - mutter somewhere on their left. His bewilderment was widely shared, which was probably a good thing, because it kept them from becoming immediately hostile. Supreme Archangel and all, Gabriel may have been overpowered and overcome if the entire horde of demons decided to attack him now. 

Not that the possibility seemed to have entered his mind. Not that anything seemed to be on his mind at present. 

Next to Gabriel, the concierge to the mouth of Hell seemed… about as confused, and nearly fell over themself to explain when they spotted Beelzebub stepping closer, the crowd parting to let them through.

“What’s the meaning of this?”

“Lord Beelzebub, I-- we don’t know! He just showed up with the elevator and said he wanted in? I didn’t know what to do, he just came in and he said that he has the… thing?”

The words seemed to snap Gabriel out of something, because he blinked and finally looked at Beelzebub. His eyes, they noticed - those eyes were not his own. They were not right. What had happened to him?

“The thing,” he repeated, frowning a little, and then suddenly he was smiling again, wide, stepping towards Beelzebub. As the crowd took a few steps back, Beelzebub remained standing firm. The eyes, wrong as they were, brightened as they met theirs. “Right! I have to give you the thing!”

“What thing?”

“Here!”

The cardboard box was handed to them, and Beelzebub instinctively took it. 

“Careful, my Lord!” Dagon’s voice came from the back. “It might be a trap.”

“Quiet, or I’ll make sure to shut yours,” Beelzebub growled, and she fell silent. A hush had fallen over the crowd as they looked Gabriel in the eye. “Do you know where you are?”

“I…” he made a face, looking over the horde of demons, then shook his head. “Nope.”

“Do you know who I am?”

“No. Sorry.”

“And do you know who you are?”

A bright smile. “Of course! I’m me!”

“... Right. And who’s me, exactly?”

A shrug. “Ah, that. Not a clue.”

“Is there anything you remember?”

Another frown, this time almost painful. “It’s… getting closer.”

Ah. “Getting closer.”

“Yes. Everyday. Something is getting closer.”

Was this about their song, or something else? Or both? Beelzebub worked their jaw, trying to figure it out. Gabriel just smiled again. “I don’t know a lot but it’s all fine! I brought the thing, you see!”

Ah, yes. The box. Time to see what the thing was, the Lord of the Flies, decided, and opened it under the eyes of a few thousands bewildered demons. At first glance, the box seemed empty; then a very familiar fly came out of it, coming to rest on their arm, buzzing softly. Beelzebub stared at it. “You came to give me this? The fly?”

“I’m there. I think.” A pause, a slight frown. “I kept thinking, I am in the fly. Whatever it means.”

It’s a container, they’d told Gabriel. You can put things in it.

And now he seemed to have put a lot in it indeed. Suddenly, everything… well, not everything, but some things at least made perfect sense. Beelzebub nodded, and picked up the fly. “Don’t move,” they ordered, and held it up before Gabriel’s face. It only took a moment for it to be off their finger, and burrowing into the archangel’s right eye, causing him to inhale sharply. 

The crowd of demons all around them stepped back with mutters and a few yelps when Gabriel jerked suddenly, perhaps expecting him to attempt smiting them, but of course no such thing happened. Beelzebub stared intently, and had to hold back a  smile as Gabriel gasped and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, still breathing fast, they were the same eyes they had learned to know. 

“Welcome back,” they said, quietly, and Gabriel’s gaze found their face. He smiled breathlessly, like a weight had been taken off him. 

“Thank you,” he said, just as softly. “I’m sorry for showing up like this, Heaven was going to wipe my memories, I had to come to you befo--” he began, only to trail off when Beelzebub reminded him, with a quick jerk of their head, that they were not alone. Thousands of eyes - two per each demon present on average, although some had four and others none - were fixed on them, their owners still unsure as to what they had just witnessed. 

Gabriel looked back at the crowd, seemed to come to a conclusion, and acted accordingly - by dropping on his knees to grasp the lapels of Beelzebub’s jacket. 

“Lord Beelzebub,” he said, looking up at them, loud enough for everyone to hear. “I have come to renounce Heaven and join your ranks, to serve you till the end of my existence.”

The silence in the room turned to murmuring and soon enough an uproar; of all things those presents may have expected, an archangel - Heaven’s Supreme Archangel! - walking into Hell to kneel before its Grand Duke and swear fealty was clearly not one of them. 

Looking down at Gabriel, which to be honest was a nice change given their respective stature, Beelzebub struggled to keep their expression impassible. “Heaven has not cast you down,” they spoke, voice just as audible to everyone present. “You have left it voluntarily.”

“I did.”

“And you’re ready to formally forsake it, and God, to join us?”

The look on Gabriel’s face was openly adoring, the grip on Beelzebub’s jacket tight. “Yes.”

“... Let us discuss what comes next, then,” they replied, and smiled back. Their hands touched Gabriel’s and they both disappeared in a burst of fire, to reappear moments later in Beelzebub’s throne room - finally alone, hands still joined.

***

“... And that left me no other choice. I couldn’t let them wipe my memories and stick me in an office for the rest of eternity. I had to come to you before they could make me forget you.”

“I see.” Beelzebub let out a long breath of relief over the fact that Heavenly deed had not worked out. “It was a good plan, for something so rushed. I’m glad you made it here.”

“So am I.” That wide smile again, thumbs stroking the backs of Beelzebub’s hands. “I wasn’t sure it would work. I really thought that at worst, they’d cast me to Hell. When Metatron said they’d erase my memory, I had to come up with something on the fly. Literally.”

“Well, it worked.” Beelzebub smiled back, then paused and looked down. “... What about your clothes?”

“Ah, those. Shame leaving them behind, but I wouldn’t be allowed to keep them after they wiped my memory. So my excuse was that I had to take them off.”

"Couldn’t you have simply left Heaven with your clothes on?”

Gabriel, Supreme Archangel, God’s Messenger and whatnot, opened his mouth to reply. He paused. He closed his mouth, then looked down and blinked. “... Huh. Yes, I suppose I could have. Do new demons get clothes?”

A chuckle, and Beelzebub let go of his hand to snap their fingers. The next moment, Gabriel was clothed in a suit - everything like his old one, but in black and dark shades of gray. The tie was the same color as his eyes. “Here you go. It suits you.” Their hand smoothed down the tie and jacket over his chest. “... Are you certain you wish to become a demon?”

“I want to be with you, and need to be out of Heaven’s grasp and authority,” he replied, all efficient practicality once again. “Becoming your subordinate would ensure both.”

“I don’t want you as my subordinate, Gabriel. Satan knows, I have enough subordinates to--” Beelzebub began, only to trail off when a hand cupped their cheek. It occurred to them only in that moment that Gabriel didn’t usually see them as they showed themself in Hell, boils on their face and all. Now he was running his thumb over those boils like he hadn’t even noticed.

“I know I won’t be. No one else needs to be aware,” he said, and grinned. There was something about that grin that they could never get enough of, even though it occasionally made them want to break things at the same time. 

A sigh, and they covered his hand with their own. “How are you so damned stupid and so stupidly clever at the same time?”

“A miracle, I guess. Uh, are demonic miracles different to perform, or basically the same?”

“Basically the same. If you’re certain you want to join us.”

His gaze found theirs, and held it. “I am.”

“... It seems Armageddon will happen eventually, after all. If Heaven presses on, I cannot delay it forever.”

“All the more reason to let me join you. When it comes, we’ll fight together.”

“And if we lose?”

“Then I won’t have to continue existing without you.”

“You ridiculous sap,” Beelzebub said, but something in their throat threatened to make their voice break, and they said nothing else. They leaned their forehead against Gabriel’s chest, and closed their eyes when his arms went around their waist, and his chin rested on top of their head. “We could always run off,” they murmured. “Go someplace else and let Heaven and Hell go to he-- do as they will.”

A chuckle. “I wouldn’t complain. But let me join you first. Leave Heaven no power over me.”

“Very well. There is a rite - we never needed to use it, no one ever defected on their own free will, but we created it just in case. It is a reverse Confirmation, to renounce God.” They looked up, cheek against his jacket. “It’s going to hurt, Gabriel. And it will need to be public.”

The grip became just a little tighter. “Tell me what I have to do,” Gabriel whispered, “and I will.”

***

Beelzebub hadn’t been exaggerating when they said it would be public - and it was extremely crowded, too. All things considered, it was no real surprise: not only was it the first time in anyone’s memory that an angel willingly renounced Heaven to become a demon, but it was the Supreme Archangel of Heaven.

It was not the sort of event anybody would want to miss: only the very lowest-ranking demons were still at work, with everyone else gathered in what looked much like a conference room trying very hard to mimic the inside of a dark cave. Even the stage Gabriel was on, before the eyes of the Dark Council, was shaped like a rock and surrounded by flames. Very dramatic.

“Kneel.”

Beelzebub’s voice reached him over the soft crackle of fire, over the clamoring of demons all around which fell into a hush and then faded into silence. Gabriel knelt, head bowed, and Beelzebub came to stand before him. He found himself staring at their shoes as they put a hand on his head, fingers warm against his scalp. He held back a smile. 

“Supreme Archangel Gabriel, Angel of Revelation, Herald of Visions. Do you renounce God, and all her works and empty promises?”

Gabriel had expected to struggle, at least a little, forcing out a reply. He did not. It came as easy as breathing did, when he bothered to. “I do.”

“Do you submit to Satan, the Tempter, Father of Lies, Ruler of Demons?”

He had never met him, aside from a few fleeting encounters when he still was one of the highest ranking angels. Gabriel hardly remembered what he looked like, then or now, nor did it matter. He could lie, even if he was no father of lies himself, and lie he did. “I do.”

“Do you commit to the ultimate victory of Hell on Earth, through the War to End all Wars, to the end of Heaven and God and its angels?”

A kindness, Metatron had said, as he spoke of taking all his memories away and leaving him an empty shell. Gabriel had no use for such kindness. There had never been any aim to serve a greater good in Heaven; Aziraphale was right, he’d always been right. He set his jaw, making a mental note to drop by at his bookshop one of those days and let him know as much. “I do.”

The hand on his scalp shifted almost imperceptibly, something akin to a caress. Gabriel closed his eyes and focused on the touch as Beelzebub spoke again. 

“Do you accept me, Beelzebub, Lord of the Flies and Grand Duke of Hell, as your liege Lord, to follow through fire and battle, to our ultimate victory?”

This time, he could not hold back the smile. To victory, to defeat, to exile - it didn’t matter. None of it would change his answer. “I do.”

“... Unfold your wings, and receive my mark.”

Ah, that was it. A deep breath, and Gabriel unfolded his wings - white as drifted snow, as a rather famous human singer once said, with the primary feathers barely tinged with purple. He heard a murmur in the crowd, but he didn’t look up; his gaze stayed low, and he braced himself as Beelzebub let go of his head and went to grasp his wings. 

They had warned it would hurt, and they were not lying. An unbearable burning spread through his wings and he bit back a cry, crumpling forward; he was barely able to hold out his hands to spare his face a painful meeting with the stone floor. The smell of burning feathers reached him just as he lost his battle for silence and let out a strangled cry. It was agony, and he wasn’t sure how long it lasted. All he knew was that suddenly Beelzebub was letting go of his wings and the pain dulled to something somewhat more bearable, but did not fade.

“Look at me.”

A few more gasps, and Gabriel obeyed. He was still on his knees, wings now singed black, but he smiled when his gaze met Beelzebub’s. He couldn’t help it; all he felt was relief.

They can never take me back now.

Beelzebub’s lips twitched just a moment, but they played their part well and let nothing else show. When they spoke again, their voice betrayed no emotion. 

“Archangel Gabriel is no more. What is your name, demon?"

Ah, yes. The name. Not a change he was looking forward to, but all demons shed their angelic names and doing otherwise might look suspicious. It was just a matter of convenience, after all. Beelzebub would always call him Gabriel; they had promised him as much.

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t choose a meaningful moniker. 

“Ekron,” he said, and was rather pleased to see a brief look of surprise crossing Beelzebub’s face. Gabriel had not forgotten that they had once been worshiped as a deity, in a very specific city. Baal-zebub, God of Ekron. “You may call me Ekron.”

This time, Beelzebub did not hold back a smile. After all, he had been the highest ranking of God’s angels bar only the Metatron, and they had just claimed him for Hell; as far as the Dark Council and all demons present were concerned, they had every reason to smile.

“Rise, Ekron, as one of us,” they said, and held out their hand. “The new envoy of Hell.”

He took their hand, warm and firm, and held onto it a little tighter than he perhaps needed to as he stood on shaky legs. All around him demons erupted in a particularly unpleasant cacophony of shouts and cheers, and Gabriel barely registered any of it. He squeezed Beelzebub’s hand, they squeezed it back, and it was enough to tell him he would never regret his choice.

***

“Lie down.”

“I’m fine, I just--”

“I know it still hurts. Come on. Down.”

“As my liege lord commands.”

“Don’t make my first real order to you be that of shutting up, Gabriel.”

A chuckle, and Gabriel did lean down on his stomach, his wings still too sensitive to rest on or even to tuck away in the usual pocket plane of existence. A long breath, and he closed his eyes when Beelzebub’s fingers slowly ran over them, smoothing down singed feathers. The effect was immediately soothing, and they snorted softly at his obvious relief.

“Ekron, really?”

“Wasn’t it romantic? I think it was romantic.”

“Romantic and obvious enough that someone might catch on.”

“Oh, let them. They’ll think you seduced the Supreme Archangel of Heaven into perdition. It would probably make you look better.”

“Heh. Fair. They already saw you show up naked and immediately kneel to swear fealty to me, after all.” A chuckle, fingers still running over feathers. “Your wings will feel better soon.”

“Already feeling better.”

“Liar.”

“Demon, remember?”

“I’d rather you don’t make a habit of lying to me specifically.”

“I am not.” Gabriel turned his head to look at Beelzebub, and smiled. “Yes. Much better.”

A scoff. “Flatterer,” they said, but it wasn’t a complaint, not really. For a long time they kept smoothing down Gabriel’s feathers, listening to him as he hummed a song they never tired of listening to.

Something was indeed getting closer, and it was all right. They’d face it together.

Come what may.

#good omens #good omens 2 #ineffable bureaucracy #archangel gabriel #beelzebub #go2 spoilers

[nanamimizz]

tags: fem read, sfw, no warnings, religion mentioned @prettyboykatsuki for the idea!

synopsis: your love is god - what else would he pray to ?

It is known that Kunigami Rensuke hates interviews - when the game is over and the reporters rush to the sidelines, it’s almost comical how the 6ft man runs as far away as he can from the onslaught of microphones and cameras. Usually, he can usually throw his teammates under the rug and let those who enjoy the spotlight soak it up as he drinks his fill. If you were to ask Kunigami why he hates interviews he couldn’t give you a reason. He just doesn’t like them when his job is to play and represent his country on the international level not to answer questions that slowly but surely become invasive gossip. It isn’t what he was broken and remade to do but it seems today he can’t sneak off like he usually can - his teammates clabber onto him, tugging him back to the rounds of reports which look at him with eager eyes.

With one last glare to his team that only grinned from behind him, his eyes turned to meet the reporter in front of him - a nice-looking woman with dyed blonde hair and wide eyes.

“S-so Kunigami, you were great out there today! However, your fans have noticed that you have a rather unusual pre-game ritual - are you religious?” The question makes him do a double take and then blank. What on earth is she talking about? His hair had grown out again, it shadows his eyes and he assumed it makes his blank stare look like a glowering glare as the reporter swallows and explains herself.

“You see, um many fans have noticed that before you head to the field or when you are lined up you bring a necklace to your face and kiss it - this is more commonly found in catholic players and we are wondering if you are that sort of player?” Kunigami tilts his head, pondering over her words as his hand comes up to feel the object across his neck that is tucked under his jersey. He knows what she means, it must look like that from the outside and he can’t help but laugh under his breath about what it is he is truly doing.

“No, I’m not religious. What I am kissing is this,” he paused to untuck the object around his neck - a locket on a thick chain that he hopes he can trade out for something thinner down the line. A smooth silver locket, it doesn’t have much ornate engraving outside of the kanji for love on it. The idea of him kissing a cross makes him laugh - why would he be praying to something he does not know the validity of its existence, when he can believe in you instead.

His hands look huge in comparison to the dainty thing and he opens it with such care it’s baffling to see it from a man like him. The locket opens and inside are pictures of you from your third anniversary, you look beautiful like the sun. As Kunigami gazes at the picture of you he doesn’t recognize the fact that many others are on his face - his teammates shiver in both awe and in fear. Never before had they seen such a gentle expression on his face and it both left in awe yet frightened them.

“It's my girl, I wear it every game for luck. It’s worked so far.” Is all he says before he excuses him from the reports and begins his way to the locker rooms. He wants to shower and change, wants to go on his phone and hear about your day. The adrenaline has worn off and his bones ache.Swatting away his teammates that buzz around him like flies, clambering away asking question after question about you - When did you meet? How old are you? How long have you been together? All of it is an annoyance he lets drip down his back like water off a duck’s wing as he settles through his routine.

It isn’t until he gets to his phone does he smile the same way - soft and gentle at your text message. It reads - “help me pick which photo to put in the locket so we match.” Pictures from over the years; your graduation dinner, pictures from your friend’s wedding and his pictures from your third anniversary. He picks the latter and grins when you call him sweet.

Yeah, only for you and the love you share.

#lamb.writes #kunigami x reader #kunigami fluff #blue lock x reader #blue lock fluff

[theladyragnell]

Ooh! Re: book recs for the new year, do you have any lesser known fantasy (or sci fi tbh) recommendations? Or better known but pre-2010s books - I've kind of devoured a lot of the modern stuff, and we have a shockingly similar taste in books

Ooh, excellent! I never actually know what's lesser known? So I'm going with things I haven't seen a lot of internet buzz about, with a decent amount of indie and self-pub. A lot of it will be fantasy romance, but I'll try for a variety!

The Devotion of Delflenor by R. Cooper (I'm going to keep trying until someone reads this piney piney lady knights book, damn it)

The Tea Princess Chronicles by Casey Blair

Salt Magic, Skin Magic by Lee Welch (a lot of people were talking about Seducing the Sorcerer by the same author a year or so ago, but I like this one better!)

Elder Race by Adrian Tchaikovsky, and then if you like the concept behind that, try the Steerswoman books by Rosemary Kirstein

Ariah by B.R. Sanders is very worldbuildy and cool

Sharon Shinn flies under the radar sometimes but tends to have cool worldbuilding concepts, I'm midway through the Elemental Blessings series and really enjoying it

Felicia Davin's Gardener's Hand trilogy is great, and Davin now has a historical fantasy romance(/verging on erotica in places) epistolary series coming out, of which I've read the first, The Scandalous Letters of V and J is very fun.

I've only read the first of Effie Calvin's Ieflaria series of largely sapphic fantasy romance, but I had fun with that one!

I like Amy Rae Durreson, who usually writes m/m fantasy romance, try Reawakening on for size but be warned the second book has a plague in it

If you like middle grade, I really like Merrie Haskell's fairy tale retellings and her short stories for older readers too, she's very Robin McKinley-esque

(Speaking of, if you haven't read Robin McKinley, please do, any of her you can get your hands on but particularly her fairy tales and Chalice)

Three Princes by Ramona Wheeler is one I don't remember a lot about but the concept is great, it's the kind of alternate history I wish more people were writing instead of 18,000 "The Nazis/Confederates Won" books (and similarly, P. Djeli Clark's Dead Djinn books, though those have a much bigger dose of fantasy)

CJ Cherryh can sometimes be a bit dense for my mood, but I've read the first three books in her series that starts with Foreigner and there is SO much fun politics and worldbuilding. (I haven't read fantasy from her, just sci fi, sorry, almost posted this without making that clear, this is very much sci fi!)

Okay, that's what I've got for this exact second! I'm on a different floor from the bookshelf that has the most of my older fantasy on it, so there's not quite as much of that as intended, but it's what I've got in me!

#bnjymouse #answered asks

[miyuhpapayuh]

five.

Zora felt compelled to call her sisters up and get together, especially after the conversation she and Leon had, a few nights ago.

Meeting them at Snooze, they're at their usual spot, in one of the middle rounded booths.

“Hey y'all,” she greets, sliding in on the left side of Lovita.

“We know your secret.” They say in unison.

“What?” Zora asks, her lips barely parting.

“We. Know. Your. Secret.” Neoma repeats.

“Want us to spell it out, next?” Lovita asks.

“No, smart ass.”

“Alright, then spill it.”

“Okay fine, but it wasn't my fault!,” she whispers, “I was drunk! Nique said she'd keep quiet about the body!”

“What??” Lovita asks.

“A body?? You killed the man?!” Neoma whispers back, not knowing whether to laugh or be concerned.

“I had to. He was too pretty!” Zora whispers back.

“Would you two stop it!”

They fall into a fit of laughter, just as their waitress comes to take their drink orders; rummosas all around.

“Okay, you met a man, and apparently he's a good one?” Neoma asks.

“He seems to be, yeah. He's so sweet. So fine, my god y'all. So patient. He's got some soft ass lips.”

“Oh, you've kissed this man?” Lovita eyes her like an older sister would.

“A couple times, uh-huh.” She answers, making them gasp.

“Oh, you like him.” Lovita says.

“No, no. She likes him.” Neoma corrects.

“What's the difference?” Zora asks.

“Right, so how much did you drink and how much did you tell?”

Zora's sisters knew her like the back of their hands, especially Neoma. She was the most intuitive out of them all.

“Those buzz balls are like fifteen percent a gulp, I swear!” She defends against their groans of disapproval.

“Okay, we'll give you a pass on the alcohol. But, you're painting again, yay!” Lovita cheers, Neoma joining in.

“Yeah, it was kinda like another break the ice type of thing, not sure when I'll paint again.”

“How'd it go? I know you get a lil nervous, sometimes.”

“I was nervous as hell! But he's big on reassuring me that it's all good, and I needed that. Made it easier– took the pressure off a lil, ya know?”

“Sounds like quite the man!”

“Yeah, can we see him? You got pictures??”

Their drinks come out and their food orders get put in.

Zora flies to her camera roll, giggling before she turns the phone toward them, swiping through the pictures they'd recently taken together.

Some of them were cute, and others were cuter.

“Wow,” they say in unison, making her giggle all over again.

“I know!”

“Damn, he might be the prettiest man we've seen you with!” Lovita adds.

“I know!” Zora repeats. “Look at me, I'm evolving!” She laughs.

“That smile is killer, my goodness!” Neoma adds, before Zora pulls the phone away.

“Every time he smiles at me, I die a little.”

“Oh, girl. I bet!”

“So when do we get to meet him?”

“Uh… I need a little more time, but he's fond of you both, already.”

“Oh, we've been talked about??”

“Yes, I was telling him about my sarcasm gene and how it's one of a kind and that you two can attest, cause y'all are y'all, and I am me.”

Like clockwork, their eye rolls sync up and the bickering starts, making her chuckle.

“Here she goes!”

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“So, you got yourself a boo, huh?” Eryn asks Leon, handing him a bottle of water.

“What??” Their cousin, Damon, asked. “Leon got a boo??”

He chuckles with a shake of his head. “Yeah, man. Why is that so hard to believe?”

“It's not, don't take it like that. You just haven't had a girlfriend since Candy’s wild ass. I'm just a little shocked.”

“Yeah, well it's definitely not another one of those situations so I think I'll be okay, this time around.” He snorts, making them both join in.

“She was a mess, I tried to tell you.”

“He ain't heard nothing once he saw that ass on girly.” Eryn shakes her head.

“Anyway, y'all third degree over?”

“Just getting started, actually. Where'd you meet her?”

“At the flower shoppe. She could be a botanist if she really wanted to be. Naming flowers without so much as a glance in their direction, like she's mapped the whole place a dozen times.” Leon rambles, making Eryn smile.

“What a hobby! I love flowers!”

“You two will get acquainted, don't you worry,” he laughs.

“Okay! What does she look like?”

“She's about your height, curvy as all hell, mocha kisses skin– good lord, she is beautiful.” He stops himself, knowing he'd go on and on about her.

“What's her name?”

“Zora.”

“Wow, that's such a pretty name.”

“It matches her perfectly.”

“You in love, my guy?” Damon asks.

“No,” he shakes his head. “I really like her, though.”

“Does she really like you back?”

“Yeah, she does.” He smiles. “We've progressed a lot over the last couple weeks.”

“Aw, he's learning that these things do take time!” She claps, kissing her hand up to the ceiling.

“You are something else, Ryn.” He laughs.

“I'm just sayin’,”

“You're always just sayin’ something.” Damon interjects, catching an apple to the head.

“Ow!”

“Yeah, shut up.” She cuts her eyes at him, before turning back to her brother. “I'm just sayin’, maybe don't rush through, this time around. The way you light up when you talk about her, makes me think she's something seriously special, so treat her that way.”

“Precious cargo, I am. She's been teaching me about patience, just like you always do. I hear you, I promise.” He assures her, putting her at ease.

“Good. So have you kissed her, yet?”

“Yeah, I couldn't help myself.” He sighs, making them laugh.

“Aw, how sweet!”

“It was sweet, man! I felt like I kissed an angel.”

“Oh! And where have you and this angel gone, date wise? Yes, I'm being super nosy.”

“I've taken her all over. We went back to the flower shoppe, I took her her to What The Fries, cause she's never been and surprisingly she'd always wanted to go, so that was an extra pat on the back for me,” he smiles, nudging arms with Damon, “we've gone on several picnics, cause she's a nature girl and I'm all for sitting in some grass.”

“Country ass.” Damon snorts.

“Boy, fuck you.” He jabs with a laugh of his own.

“Have you taken her dancing?”

“That might be the only thing we haven't done— well, if dancing in her living room counts, then we've danced a couple dances.”

“Well, we’ll count those but you should take her to that place I was telling you about!” She snaps her fingers, trying to remember the name of the place.

“Flavor?” Damon asks.

“Flavor! Yes, everybody be down there!” Eryn claps, making them both laugh.

“Okay, okay. Next date, we’ll go dancing.”

“Ugh, take pictures or something!”

“Oh, you wanna see her? I've got pictures.” He says, pulling his phone from his pocket.

“If I smack him.” She stares at Damon, who just shakes his head.

“Leave me alone, y'all. I don't be thinking, sometimes.”

“We know.”

He slides the phone in her direction, telling her to swipe from the left.

“Wow, she's absolutely gorgeous! Ugh, I love her hair!” She squeals, swiping through to see a couple of her and Leon together, cheesing wide.

“Aw, you two look really good together!” She squeals, passing the phone to Damon.

“Thank you.” He smiles.

“Damn! She's breathtaking, my brotha.”

“You don't know the half, man.” He shakes his head with his eyes closed.

“Okay, I gotta know how you rolled up on shorty, cause she looks like she plays no games.”

“She don't. She actually fried my ass up a lil when I was talking to her, but ol Leon don't back down. Mama ain't raise no quitter.”

“Mhm, so what you say that made her feel different about you?”

“I'm an honest man and she appreciated that. Told her I wasn't on funny business and I wanted to take her out, and she let me know up front how things were gonna go. I listen, unlike some men.” He sideyes Damon.

“Don't start on me, man. What Keisha tell you??”

“Nothing. But you about to spill everything!”

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Zora was currently sitting in front of a blank canvas, when her phone started ringing.

A facetime call from Leon. She smiles and answers.

“Hey, beautiful.”

“Handsome. Wassup?”

“I was calling to beg for another date with you.” He says, making her laugh.

“Begging? I'm not that bad, am I?”

He smiles, shaking his head. “Nah, you're not bad. But I would love to take you dancing.”

“Aw, you tired of dancin’ in my living room?” She teases.

“Never that! I just feel like we might need more room to show off our moves, ya know?”

“Yeah, I hear ya. So where are we going?”

“There's this place called Flavor, my sister recommended it. She also told me to tell you hello, and that she thinks you're absolutely gorgeous.”

“Aw, she's too sweet! Tell her I said hello and thanks! And Flavor sounds fun, I'm down!”

“Great, are you off next weekend?”

“I am! I took Saturday off, cause ya girl be tired.”

“Well good, sleep til you can't no more and then we'll dance the rest of the day away. Sound like a plan?”

“Of course it does!” She agrees with a smile that matches his own.

Their playful banter continued on for about ten minutes, and then his mama called, making them reluctantly hang up.

“How's my boy?”

“Always good. How's my favorite lady?”

“Well I talked to Eryn and it seems like you've got yourself a girlfriend. Am I hearing that correctly?”

“Well, she's not my girlfriend, but we're working our way there.”

“Oh, okay! So tell me about her.”

He easily goes into his spiel about Zora, how beautiful, funny and intelligent she is. How her fire is his favorite attribute of hers.

“Sounds like your aunt Moonie.”

“I said the same thing, ma. I swear!” He exclaims, making her laugh.

“A spitfire, huh?”

“Yeah, she's not psycho or anything though. She's a sweetheart.”

“Well, when do we get to meet her?”

“I need a little more time.”

“No worries, son. But do make it before I gray all the way over,” she jokes.

Flashback.

Zora is at her easel like usual, painting away. Music blasting in her ears as she's in her zone.

It’d been a long day and she needed to destress in the ways she knew best.

And everything was going great, until he showed up.

Turning this light on, knocking this over, stepping over her materials that weren't even in his line of sight, just because.

“What you in here in the dark for?” He asks, but she can't hear him due to her headphones, which she points to.

“Take ‘em off your ear for a sec,” he says, before reaching and doing in himself. She snatches ‘em back before he removes them altogether.

“Yes, what do you need?” She asks.

“Wassup? Why you in the dark?”

“It's been a long day and I just needed to come home and sit and paint. My head hurts so I kept the extra light off. Could you turn it back off?”

“Nah.”

“Fine, I'll do it myself.” She gets up and cuts it right back off, beginning to move back to her easel when he steps in front of it, staring at the painting.

“What is this, Z?”

“Flowers, J.”

“They're ugly.” He snorts, looking over at her defeated expression.

“Thanks. I really appreciate that.” She responds, way too beaten down to argue with him.

“I'm just sayin’, maybe you need a new hobby or sumn.” He continues, making her brows scrunch together.

“Excuse me?”

“This shit blows. I'm tryna help you out, here.”

“You wanna help me by insulting me?”

“Constructive criticism, ain't that what they called it at that fancy ass school you went to?”

“You're just being rude, that's all you're doing right now.” She says, pulling the canvas away before he gets any ideas.

“Well shit, somebody had to tell you. Your mama loves everything you do and so do them sisters of yours. But I gotta be the voice of reason–”

“Oh my god, voice of reason?! Who asked you to do that?? Who asked you to be that?? I had the worst day at work and you're in here tearing me further apart over some fucking flowers? You can't even draw a stick figure and you're giving me advice?! Please get out.”

“Look Zora. Whether you like it or not, your shit is not good. I hate to be the one to break it to you.”

“I think you love to break shit to me. Makes you feel like a man or something, like you can't be a man in other ways— important ways. You'd rather go toe to toe with me, than listen to anything i'm actually saying.”

“I don't have time for this.” He says, making her sigh so heavily.

“Of course you don't. Why not just leave?” This is my apartment. Just go.”

“Fine. If I leave, I won't be back.” Is something he'd always say, but he always came crawling back to her with an apology and like the sad girl she was, she'd always take ‘em back.

Maybe this time would be different.

Who knew it would take another six months before she was finally done with his verbal abuse, lack of communication, concern and care.. amongst other things.

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Putting the finishing touches on her outfit, she steps back in front of Nique, doing her little twirl as she claps and whistles.

“Damn, girl. You look so good!”

“Thank you! I spent two days searching up and down prettylittlething.com and this little baby popped up, I almost— I screamed. I won't lie.” She squeals, twirling around in the hot orange number.

“I bet you did,” she laughs. “I love how you've got your hair, too!”

A half up, half down style worked beautifully with her curls as they bounced above her shoulders.

“Thanks! The hair goddesses were on my side, yet again!” She kisses up to god, before spraying her bergamot and vanilla perfume again.

“You don't think that's enough?”

“Can you smell it??”

“Yes! Put it away, before you start a fire!” She half jokes.

“Jesus,” Zora huffs, placing the bottle back on her dresser just as the doorbell rings.

If it weren't for the deep slit in her dress, she woulda been able to fake out the tremble in her knees.

“Sis, are you nervous?” She asks, totally surprised.

“I— I just might be!” She laughs, as they head down the hall towards her door.

Blowing out a breath, she opens the doors and the air is knocked right back out of her lungs, and she isn't alone as he takes a moment of his own to drool at the sight before him.

“Hi,” she greets, kicking one leg in front of the other.

“Hey,” he greets back, taking her hand into his to kiss the back, making her blush.

“You look amazing,” comes from them both, making them laugh at each other and Nique clears her throat.

“Leon, this is my dearest, bestest friend Nique. Nique, this is the infamous Leon.” She introduces, watching them shake hands.

“You're much taller than I thought,” she blurts, making Zora shake her head.

“I get that a lot,” he chuckles. “It's nice to finally meet you.”

“Likewise! It's about time we crossed paths. Now tell me, how much trouble has she gotten you into so far?”

“Oh, we're about waist deep, right Zora?”

“We’ll be up to our necks, after tonight.” She winks.

“Oop— well, let me get on outta here and let y'all get y'all's night started! I hope it's wonderful.”

“Thank you,” Zora says, hugging Nique before she opens the door back up. “I'll call you tomorrow.”

“You better,” she whispers, waving at Leon, “it was nice meeting you. Treat my girl great!”

“Of course, it was nice meeting you too.” He responds, before she leaves.

“You look absolutely stunning, mama.” He compliments, twirling her around as the frills on her dress flow about.

“Thank you, handsome. You look really good, yourself. I like this shirt.”

“Thank you. My sister helped me pick it out.”

“She did a good job!”

“I'll be sure to tell her so she can gloat about it,” he chuckles. “You ready to dance the night away?”

“Absolutely.”

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

Out of all of my options, you'll be the top one

Baby, you got one-up

Get me high, get me louder

Damn, all that power I want you much too much

That sure do get me high

To God, oh, what I'm feeling

Well, you decide

'Cause, baby, all summer

They been all on my heels

I just need to know that if I pull up, you gon' be there 'cause you talkin' real, real And I don't wanna wonder

If you doin' side deals

I don't trust nobody, but that body keep on callin' me

(It got me roaming through these empty streets)

Thinkin' you ready for love

A strong hand at her back and a dainty one on his shoulder with their other hands clasped together, the two glide across the floor with ease, earning a few whistles from other couples.

“See, you're a natural!” Zora teases Leon, who swears he has two left feet.

“I'm only this good when I'm dancin’ with you,” he chuckles. “You know I got two wrong feet.”

“Lord,” she rolls her eyes as he twirls her once more, pulling her back to him.

“That your favorite move?” She asks, losing her breath from being so close to him.

“Mmhm,” he pecks her lips, starting a wildfire across her cheeks while they continue to sway.

“How's the last couple days been?” She asks, staring up at him.

“Hectic.” He huffs. “I got into it with one of my boys at work, which pissed me off cause he's usually pretty chill.”

She frowns. “It made it awkward, huh?”

“For him. I get my work done, regardless. It just slows us down cause now he acts like I gotta go through somebody else to give him information, and I'm not doing that.” He shakes his head, moving his other hand to her back now.

“Don't let ‘em push your buttons. I hate when people act like they're too important or butthurt to be bothered. It always boils over to them just being a jackass.”

“You're right,” he nods, laughing as she shoots him a look that screams “I know!”.

“What about you? I know you were a little more tired than usual.”

“Oh yeah, it gets super busy at the restaurant and those customers just lose their minds from time to time.. to time.” She sighs with a laugh. “It just took a little more outta me than I expected. But I'm okay!”

“Yeah? You sure?” He asks.

“Yeah, if I fall asleep on you, just splash some water on me,” she shrugs, instantly cracking up at his expression. 

“I'm joking, Leon!”

“I'm not too sure,” he squints. “Splash some water on you. We'd get you tucked in, before that happens.”

“Aw, ever the gentleman.”

“You know I do my best for you,” he humbly responds, making himself even cuter to her.

“Can I tell you something?” She asks, knowing she should hold her tongue.

“Of course.”

“I like you, Leon.”

He flashes that beautiful smile, and thank god he was holding onto her so tight or she surely woulda hit the floor.

“I like you too, Zora.”

The butterflies in her belly do a dance similar to the two-step she and Leon are doing, making her feel fuzzy and warm.

Unfortunately her pretty mules turned on her about an hour ago, forcing them to move from the dance floor, to a tiny rounded booth off to the left side of the place.

Were her feet pulled into his lap, while she sipped her margarita and danced in her seat to the music? Yes.

Was she enjoying every minute? Absolutely.

“So I feel compelled to tell you a little story.” She starts, and he's all ears.

“You know I'm listening,” he smiles.

“I know,” she smiles back. “It's not a nice story, but I won't get too sad on you.”

“Oh, is this about your ex?”

“Yeah, that rotten bastard.” She sneers, making him snicker.

“Seriously! He was a hater. He'd come home just to piss me off, I swear. Never a good full day, ever. Never any concern above his own. And it wasn't always like that, ya know? It's like he woke up one day and just started hating me.”

His brows furrow. “Who could hate you?”

“Ya know, I would ask myself what I did. Hell, I even asked him and he'd always tell me that I was trippin. Thinking too much into him dashing away my dreams, leaving more on my plate than not, shutting me out. You name it.”

“You're right, he was a hater.” He frowns. “Who the hell does that someone they care about?”

“I tried so hard to figure that out, that I made myself sick over it and him. I mean, imagine just graduating from college, working at a rundown job and your boyfriend comes home just to tell you that you should find a new hobby, a new lifestyle and a little bit more money because he wasn't gonna sit around and wait for a miracle to happen. Said he was my voice of reason.”

“Sounds like he needed an ass kick off that high horse he was on.” Leon says, shaking his head.

“Ugh! I can't tell you how many times I told him that. But, it never mattered what I said, cause he never listened. Plus, I'd take him back every time he'd crawl back to me.” She sighs.

“Don't beat yourself up about that, Zora. You just wanted him to do better. We all hit the wall, sometimes. You realized at some point that he wasn't gonna change and you left, yeah?”

“Yeah. It might've taken me a minute, but I did leave his ass alone. After I beat it.” She laughs, making him join in.

“I'm sure that was hilarious!”

“Nique has the video if you ever wanna see it.” She adds, going back to sipping on the fruity drink.

“Definitely taking you up on that.” He nods, reaching out to twirl a curl around his finger.

“I'm glad you shared with me. I won't be a bad story to add to your collection, I promise.” He says, making her smile.

“I'm starting to believe that. I really am.”

“Good.”

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

Carrying Zora all the way inside her apartment, he closes and locks her door behind them and sits her on the sofa.

“Thank you,” she sighs, sliding her feet out of her mules and rubbing her feet over her plush rug. “I hope I wasn't too heavy.”

“Light as a feather, baby.” He assures, kneeling down beside the couch to be level with her.

“Baby, huh? That's me?” She asks.

“If you wanna be.”

“Oh, I wanna be.” She replies, making them both laugh.

“Good. Cause I wanna be yours, too.”

Moving from his kneeled position, he sits beside her on the couch, reaching for her hand to pull her closer to him.

“I had fun, like always.” She smiles, kissing him again.

“Me too, like always.” He replies, returning the gesture.

“So, where we goin’ next, handsome?”

“Still on the fence about meeting my people?” He asks.

“No, not anymore. I'd love to meet ‘em.”

“Great,” he smiles, linking their fingers. “Cause I gotta meet these sisters of yours. Mama, too.”

Ch 6

@sheabuttahwrites @thegifstories @blackerthings @blackpinup22 @twistedcharismaaa @abeautifulmindexposed @nayaxwrites @cecereads209 @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @ghostfacekill-monger @blowmymbackout @chaneajoyyy @awerkofart

#mochaff #miyuhpapayuh #zora x leon #poc writers #blackwriters #black romance #yahya abdul mateen ii fan fic #Spotify

[crisalidaseason]

So, that came out of my brain while I was high on painkillers and watching good omens. A special thanks to @the-bureaucracts-are-everything for hosting this event (I meant to say a thanks on my last post but I genuinely forgot so here it is!)

Day 2: Flies

People didn't like flies, that Beelzebub already knew. And that wasn't something exclusive to humans, no, no! Many other beings expressed their despise for those creatures, even if everyone was careful about saying it near the prince of hell. At first, Beelzebub was upset about it, how could all of them feel disgust over such small and wonderful creatures that made Beelzebub's entire being? It was like an angel being disgusted of soft feathers, or humans and animals about flesh and bone. It made no sense.

But anger soon turned into malice, Beelzebub would feel joy in sending a swarm of flies to eat alive a particularly vocal demon that badmouthed their little flies, they loved to make the buzzing creatures appear in the most inconvenient places and do the nastiest things in order to cause terror to humans. The lord of flies was proud of their little beings, but a spark of worry started to form.

"bzzz" the little fly was quietly waiting on their lord's commands. The fly was happy, almost too happy to stay put. The lord had chosen it from all of the others.

Beelzebub lovingly gazed at the little one, thinking it that was the best one to behave as a container. Would Gabriel feel disgusted by it? They didn't want to admit, but if the angel expressed any sort of negative thoughts about the little one, Beelzebub would not be angry or mischiveous, they would be sad.

"I have a mission for you, sweet one" the demon softly said, supporting the fly on their finger "I need you to be someone's companion"

The little one buzzed again, in excitement.

"It is a gift" Beelzebub continued "which means you won't be with me anymore"

The fly's wings stopped and dropped down, the buzzing went silent.

"I know, little one. Do you want to stay? I can gift another one"

The fly seemed to think for a moment, maybe even considering staying with the demon, but also not wanting the demon to think less of it.

"You're my most trusted, little one" Beelzebub comforted "what about you meet my…counterpart? You can decide then if you want to stay with him"

The buzzing was still low.

"I will not be mad if you choose to stay, don't worry"

Beelzebub felt the buzzing of agreement, still reluctant. The lord of flies opened their pocket and the fly quickly entered, patiently waiting for the next command. Beelzebub checked their surroundings, not wanting to explain anything to nosy demons, and soon projected themselves to earth. They found Gabriel exactly were the angel said: at a cemetery. While the angel talked about the beauty of the statue, which Beelzebub had to admit was almost too creepily similar to the archangel, the demon wondered if the angel would ever look at them the same way. On the other hand, the fly was slightly buzzing, as if finding something funny.

"Shall we go to the pub?" the demon said, already heading to the ressurectionist.

The walk back to the pub was silent, in a rather comfortable way despite Beelzebub's worried thoughts. The little fly kept buzzing, increasing its excitement once they finally entered the pub and ordered some beverages and a packet of crisps. Once Beelzebub sat in the cushioned L-seat, they waited for the archangel to bring their drinks.

"Here you go" the angel said.

As gabriel sat down, Beelzebub curiously looked at the drinks, not really sure of what to do with it.

"You don't actually have to consume it" Gabriel continued.

"Oh" they felt a little relief, not wanting to explore foods or drinks quite yet

"And the…" the angel motioned to the bag beside the demon

"The packet of crisps? Good"

Beelzebub was completely nervous. The prince of hell, lord of flies, second in command, ruler of all lesser demons...was nervous. It was all that angel's fault and to worsen things, they recognized a tune from a while ago.

"Is that-did you?" the demon stuttered.

"A small miracle" the angel said "that song will always be there, on that jukebox, to comfort the aflicted"

Beelzebub could not hold the smile. They had forgotten about that song, but Gabriel using a miracle so recklessly, with no high purpose, sent a spark of happiness into the demon. The fly was buzzing loudly on their pocket, not being able to contain the mirrored excitement, sending Beelzebub many many little pleads to be gifted to the angel. It seemed the little one liked the angel, or at least liked how they made Beelzebub feel.

"I should give you something" the prince of hell said, silently asking the fly to materialize.

The demon extended their hand, and the little fly quickly materialized there. It was standing proud, waiting for its moment to shine.

"Here, it's for you" Beelzebub said "You never know when you'll need it. It's a container, it's bigger on the inside. You can put things in it"

The demon was rambling, trying to convince the angel that the little fly was useful despite the apparently disgusting opinions about its nature. They genuinely hoped Gabriel could see beyond the incomprehensible prejudice. Beelzebub carelessly took a box of matches, a bit nervous, giving it to the archangel. Their chest was tight as they watched Gabriel gently put the little fly inside the box.

"Bye bye!" the demon said to their little one.

The fly happily buzzed inside the box, completely satisfied. Gabriel gently put the box on his chest pocket. A small gesture that Beelzebub took kindly, the angel seemed completely alright with the little creature.

"I don actually know what to say" the angel confessed.

"Why not?"

Gabriel was surprised, brows contorted in wonder.

"No one has ever given me anything before"

Oh angel, Beelzebub thought, leaving a sigh of relief. They watched as Gabriel softly touched his chest pocket, as if not believing there was a gift in there. The angel smiled, looking at Beelzebub again.

"Thank you" Gabriel softly said.

Thank you, angel.

#good omens #IBweek2023 #ineffable bureaucracy #lord beelzebub #archangel gabriel #gabriel x beelzebub #day 2

[stephaniebrownslover]

Annual Duck Competitions With Pastas And Tons Of Other Shit[Crack]—Part 1

I know I'm not funny but please act like I'm sooo funny because I need motivation to continue.

Also I know they're out of character and sorry for that but it's my first time to writing a crack creepypasta fic.

Let me know about your opinions and ideas!

It was a typical summer day. A heat that constantly overwhelmed people as if it wanted to melt them, a bright sun that wanted to share its joy with the world, flies that kept buzzing around and more. In summary, the residents of Slender Mansion were living an ordinary day of summer.

Jeff was just lying on the couch with no purpose, while he was kicking and pushing Ben, who was trying to play a game. Or rather, he was constantly throwing his foot towards Ben, but he was only getting increasingly angry because he couldn't get any reaction from Ben since he was used to Jeff's endless nonsense. 

Clockwork, Nina and Toby, who were as bored as Jeff in another corner of the same communal living room, were talking about a serious discussion about why it was believed that babies were brought by storks.

Because of the environment's being quiet noisy, Helen and Liu were sitting in front of the long windows where the hall on the ground floor opens to the garden. They were sharing their opinions about the Pulp Fiction movie, the last Quentin Tarantino movie they had watched. 

At a moment when no one expected, Clockwork's, who was hanging upside down from the seat, and Jeff's, who was trying to put his foot in Ben's mouth, eyes met. Two close friends, who were quite bored with the aimless situation they were in, shook their heads, almost reading each other's minds.

"Hey, fuckin' elf, stop eating my foot, I need to piss."

"Hope you'll die, you jerk!"

"But you'll miss me."

When Jeff finally managed to free his foot from between Ben's baby hands, Clockwork also told her own excuse.

"Hey look, a stork beating a crab!"

"Somebody help them!"

"I-it's not real, Nina, s-he's just try-ing to di-ditch us."

''Oh."

And Clockwork, who had managed to slip out of the way while those two were talking, walked towards to Jeff, who was making strange hand signs to her from the corner of the hallway. He was looking so stupid that she wanted to throw a punch to Jeff's face.

A friendly punch, of course.

"The fuck are you doing?"

Jeff, raising his left hand in the air, signaled Clockwork to stop. He seemed very excited and it was very obvious that he did not want to be interrupted.

"No need for shitty talk, we're here to talk business." 

Clockwork tied her sleeves together and put on a sarcastic expression.

"Get your head out of your ass, you don't have the capacity to sell drugs."

"The other business."

"Oh, right."

Jeff began to walk slowly here and there in the rather long corridor, it was dark unlike the other rooms. He had a very serious expression when he was constantly pacing, as if he needed to tell someone about a problem that he couldn't talk about. 

It was like he was going to make the biggest decision of his life.

"We must tell the others."

Clockwork spoke using an extremely soft tone of voice. She also knew that this was an extremely important situation and she didn't want to mess things up. This could be one of the biggest tasks that they shouldn't mess up; maybe even the biggest task they've ever undertaken in their lives before.

“No! I mean, no. It's too risky."

Jeff suddenly stopped walking where he was and began to look at Clockwork's face with a scared expression.

"There is no way, Jeff, if we want success in this task, then others must know!"

"There must be some other way!"

"There isn't!"

Jeff, who bent his head to the ground to avoid eye contact, muttered in a fearful way.

"What about the thing we talked earlier?"

"We can't, we've already talked the reasons!"

"We have to try!"

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Neither Jeff nor Clockwork noticed Masky sneaking up behind them because they were both too busy yelling at each other.

Completely no different from a child who had been caught, the two murderers were looking at the proxy that entered the room. Masky, whose porcelain mask was surrounded by filth, was watching them as if waiting for an answer.

Damn it, they made too much noise, and their plans were ruined by their stupid moves, and the stupid Masky would immediately-

"Masky! Just the man I wanted to see!"

Ignoring Jeff, who extended his hand to shake hands with him, Masky walked to the Clockwork in calm but eerie silence. It was a fairly common reality for those staying at the mansion that Masky didn't have many loving thoughts for Clockwork.

He saluted with the same menacing air.

"Clockwork."

Clockwork, who received the greeting, was nervous like a cat who had seen water, there was no trace of her relaxed mood just a little earlier.

"Masky."

Annoyed that his hand was in the air while an uncomfortable silence was forming between them, Jeff lowered his hand in the hope that his foolish behavior had not been noticed. 

Jeff felt uneasy while Masky and Clockwork were busy threatening each other without needing to use words. He wanted to break this silence.

"Can you keep a secret, mysterious-masked-face?"

Masky's one eyebrow was raised in the air, questioning what he had fallen into. Keeping a secret from his master would definitely not even be the last thing he would do, but in order to find out their secret, he had to gain their trust first. He wasn't sure about the girl, but he was aware that the idiot called Jeff and he knew his mouth wasn't too tight.

This was going to be as easy as gambling with a baby.

"No, Jeff, that wasn't in the plan!"

While Clockwork was shouting with an angry expression, Jeff placed his hand on her shoulder in a reassuring manner to calm her down.

"Relax and trust me, Clocky, everything is under my control."

"If you screw this up, consider yourself dead, fucker."

Masky, who could not stand this nonsense any longer, impatiently tapped his foot on the floor.

"Spill it out."

Wearing a sincere smile, Jeff dramatically raised his hand in the air and spoke using an extremely serious sen tone.

"Tell me, Masky, have you ever wanted to be rich?"

Other parts

#creepypasta #creepypasta fandom #clockwork #fanfic #creepypasta headcanon #fanfiction #creepy #creepypasta clockwork #ticci toby #ao3 fanfic #creepypasta fanfiction #ticci toby creepypasta #ticciwork #nina the killer #nina hopkins #jeff the killer #jeff woods #liu woods #homicidal liu #bloody painter #helen otis #creepypasta fanfic #masky creepypasta #tim masky #masky #ben drowned #ben creepypasta #fyp #tumblr fyp

[histoireettralala]

Victor Hugo on Talleyrand's death

For @empirearchives who was interested, here's a translation of Victor Hugo's text about Talleyrand's death. My thanks to @microcosme11 for her help <33

Choses Vues, Victor Hugo

1838

Talleyrand

19th of May

In the Rue St-Florentin, there is a palace and a sewer.

The palace, with its noble, rich, and dull architecture, was long called "Hôtel de l'Infuntado"; today, we read on its front door: Hôtel Talleyrand. During the fourty years he lived on this street, the last host of this palace might never have set eyes on this sewer.

He was a stranged, feared, and considerable character: his name was Charles-Maurice de Périgord; he was noble as Machiavel, a priest like Gondi, defrocked like Fouché, witty as Voltaire, and lame as the devil. One could say that everything limped with him: the nobility which he had put to the service of the republic, the priesthood he had dragged on the Champ-de-Mars then threw down the drain, the marriage he had broken by twenty scandals and by a voluntary separation, the wit he dishonoured through vileness. This man, nevertheless, had grandeur.

The splendours of both regimes were mixed together inside of him: he was prince of the old kingdom of France, and prince of the French Empire.

For thirty years, from the depth of his palace, from the depth of his mind, he had just about led Europe. He had let the revolution call him "tu", and had smiled at it, ironically of course; but it had not noticed. He had approached, known, observed, pierced, stirred, upturned, delved into, mocked, intellectually fertilized all the men of his era, all the ideas of his century, and there had been a few minutes in his life when, holding in his hand the four or five fearsome threads that moved the civilized universe, he had had for a puppet Napoleon the First, Emperor of the French, King of Italy, Protector of the Confederation of the Rhine, Mediator of the Swiss Confederation. Such was the game this man played.

After the Revolution of July, that old race, whose grand chambellan he was, having fallen, he found himself standing on one foot and told the people of 1830, sitting, bare-armed, on a pile of cobbles: Make me your ambassador.

He had received Mirabeau's last confession and Thiers' first confidence. He had said himself he was a great poet and had made a trilogy in three dynasties: Act I, Buonaparte's Empire; Act 2, The House of Bourbon; Act 3, The House of Orleans.

He had done all of this in his palace, and, in this palace, like a spider in its web, he had attracted into it and taken successively heroes, thinkers, great men, conquerors, kings, princes, emperors, Bonaparte, Sieyès, Mme de Staël, Chateaubriand, Benjamin Constant, Alexander of Russia, Wilhelm of Prussia, Francis of Austria, Louis XVIII, Louis-Philippe, all the golden, shiny flies who buzzed in the history of those last fourty years. The whole sparkling swarm, fascinated by this man's deep eye, had successively passed under the dark door that bore, written on its architrave: Hôtel Talleyrand.

Well, the day before yesterday, 17 March, 1838, that man died. Doctors came and embalmed the corpse. For this, like the Egyptians, they first withdrew the bowels from the belly and the brain from the skull. Once done, after they had transformed the prince de Talleyrand into a mummy, and nailed this mummy in a white satin-lined coffin, they withdrew, leaving upon a table the brain, that brain which thought so many things, inspired so many men, built so many edifices, led two revolutions, fooled twenty kings, contained the world.

Once the doctors were gone, a valet entered, he saw what they had left. Hold on! they forgot this. What to do ? He remembered that there was a sewer in the street, he went there, and threw that brain into this sewer.

Finis rerum.

#xix #victor hugo #choses vues #charles maurice de talleyrand périgord #magnificent bastard

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Hii!! Hopping on the request train for Eddie munson x ftm!reader, do u think u could do a smut fic with a dom!eddie?? Like either a hot messy lead up or some action? I love ur writing so honestly just have fun with it ^^ thankkk uuuu :))

Hi, thanks for this request. I hope I did you justice!

Requests have resumed. You can submit yours here!

Currently writing for Eddie Munson. I write for a variety of reader inserts (male, female, gender neutral, readers of color too).

The more details you had to your request, the better it is for me. EX: “What about some fluff for Eddie after he’s had a long day?”

Feel free to look through my masterlist here!

Eddie Munson x Trans!Male Reader

CW: Smut/Smut Adjacent (18+ only please);

______________________________________

It's one thing to say that you'd been asking for it--because it's not wholly true. You haven't physically put the words together. But Eddie sees it all happening.

The way you sulk just a little in the corner of Jeff's garage. The way you respond to Eddie, but it is clipped and just enough words to get the point across. Eddie's not sure what you're looking for--comfort, release. He's think for a moment something might've happened earlier in the day or week. But you hadn't mentioned anything prior today.

You were slightly the type to old things tight lipped until Eddie made you confess. He definitely had his own way of getting the truth out of you. Sometimes a simple puppy dog eye look would work. Sometime he really had to work it out of you, bringing over the edge of your own orgasm again and again and again until tears slipped down your cheeks, body shaking beneath his tongue and fingers.

Eddie slings his guitar to the back. He walks--eyes searching your body. You looked fine, maybe slightly tired but not overly so that your eyes drooped. Eddie and you had eaten before practice. It wasn't anything fancy. But it was something.

"You okay?" Eddie asks.

He watches, your eyes slowly move up his frame. "I'm okay."

It's the most level you've sounded today. Maybe it's an improvement. "Eat enough?"

"Lunch was good," you answer.

"I'm glad it was good. But was it enough?" Eddie presses on.

"It was enough," you supply.

Eddie hums, eyes narrowing. Gareth's sticks click--they'll be resuming practice again soon. They only have another 30 minutes left for Jeff's parents return and want their house noise free. But Eddie only watches. You settle back where you'd been and just as you sit, your leg shakes.

There it is. Eddie grins. "We won't be much longer, sweetheart. Can you be good? Just thirty more minutes."

Your lips purse and you look everywhere but Eddie. You nod. "Yeah, yeah I can."

"What was that?" Eddie leans in, ear pressed in your direction.

"Yes, I can be good, sir."

Eddie takes another step forward, cupping your left cheek before pressing a kiss to the right one. "That's what I wanted to hear."

The rest of practice flies by. It's easy to pump out the two songs--they're covers and really just for fun. But it's nice to take the moment to let their hair down--figuratively--and let the music take over. It leaves a thrum in Eddie's veins. He takes you gently, fingers threading through yours.

There hasn't been a quip out of you, but Eddie knows the buzz that crawls under your skin. He's learned all too well the way that you can withdraw when you don't want to impose. It may be a polite demeanor but like everyone need consumes. It refuses to anything in the wake of its fire.

The trailer is empty and a relief falls to the pit of Eddie's stomach. "Want water?"

It's a game. If Eddie pushes the limits of your patience, you will push back. Ss much as Eddie likes being able to provide comfort to you, be able to anticipate your needs and provide the assistance to help you with those needs, he likes it when there's a clear directive from you. When you have a moment of spark to light the match, Eddie loves the way your touch sears his skin.

He loves too to watch you writhe beneath him. He loves to make you cry out. But when you push him to push you it proves all the more just ow well teh two of fit together like puzzle pieces. So Eddie continus on. "We've got grape juice too. Soda."

"You," you state.

"What about me?" Eddie questions. He tries to keep his tone level, ct as if he's not aware of what he's doing. He toes out of his shoes.

"You,"you emphasize.

"I'm sorry, my dear. But I'm not a mind reader. What about me?"

Eddie can see it, the way the words keep dancing on your tongue but your mouth doesn't fully come together to form them. This happens. When everything in you is focused on just one thing, just release. But he still needs the verbal consent. Still needs to know that what he is seeing and reading accurate.

"Want you," you push out from your teeth.

"Hurts, right?" Eddie asks, taking steps to close the distance between the two of you. "When you just want something so desperately, but you can't articulate it or can't get it out. It hurts, doesn't it?"

You nod. "Yeah."

Eddie takes your chin into between his thumb and rest of his fingers. "But it helps, right, sweet boy. It helps when someone else gets it. Can pick up on what you want."

Your nod is eager. "Yes."

Eddie cooes, stroking his thumb over your chin. "Yeah, it helps doesn't it?" He leans in, pressing in close until his lips seal around yours.

Your exhale becomes Eddie's favorite sound. He swallows it down into his chest, and prays to all the gods in existence he can hold that sound there. It vibrates against his ribs and he loves it. He loves how you cling to him, kissing back into his mouth. There's the taste of what you had for lunch earlier and the soda you had dancing around the taste of Eddie's earlier cigarette.

You curl your fingers into the cotton of Eddie's t-shirt, but you don't pull him in any closer. Eddie's hand moves from your cheek to cupping the back of your head. He doesn't move to pull you in closer. The two of you are touching but not consuming. You want a taste, a nibble, but not the full course meal. It feels like cheating to hold something so close and to taste it, but not let it take over. It's like having dessert before the full course meal.

The thing about this--the hovering, the kisses and touches that don't take--is that there will be a break. Someone's control will snap first. Someone will becomes so desperate first and when that happens, the flood gates have been opened beyond repair. There's nothing to do but let everything rush out until there's only dribbles left.

You cave first. It's not surprising. Eddie could feel it happening, the tightening in your jaw before you broke the kiss first and tugged his body into his. Eddie's never been insecure about his masculinity. In fact, some of his own personal beliefs--shown by his immense desire to not cut his hair--helped you define what masculinity means for you. But there are moments, like right now where even your own desire and dominance makes Eddie a little weak in the knees.

He likes when you manhandle him too because it reminds him he still something and someone you desire. You whine over his face when you break the kiss and Eddie doesn't give into the exposure of your neck to him. He inhales the cologne you dabbed on this morning, but kiss like he knows you want him too.

"Touch me," you beg into his ear. "I'm literally going to explode if you don't."

Eddie laughs. "No, no, don't explode. Well, unless it's on my tongue and fingers. Then you can."

You shake her head. "Won't be enough," you whine.

"No, my tongue and fingers won't be enough? Baby boy, what would be? What would be enough?" Eddie swallows down his own pang of fear. Is this you saying he's not enough?

"Want all of you," you beg. "Cock, god, I need it."

The fear dissipates a little. "Oh, I can do that." His words come out with a slight tremble, but when you kiss him again, fervent and hot, the fear disappears fully.

The two of you carry yourself from the living room into the bedroom. Eddie leads the way. But the entire time, he holds your face close. "Does this mean I get a taste though, right? If I don't get a chance to taste you and jerk you off too, then I think it's pointless. You get to be stuffed full the least I can get is the taste of you."

You snort, even when you're far gone Eddie's incessant rambling always manages to break through the haze of desire just enough to make you laugh. "I like you better when your mouth is full and working. Your much less ridiculous," you whisper back. It's not that Eddie is less quiet. Not even the removal of his vocal cords could make him quiet, but he's less of a rambling fool.

"Then let's get you out of this delicious looking pants and let me get my mouth to work then, huh?"

"Thank God," you whine.

#eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x trans!masc reader #eddie munson x male reader #stranger things #h writes #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson blurb

[astra-nomy]

ASTRA'S BEST ADVICE: another long post (summary at the bottom)

To start off: doubts only hold whatever power you give them. I know I've said this a million times, but it's true. You hold all the cards here. All the power comes from you, and you can pick and choose which thought to give power to and which ones you don't. Yes, that requires some self control. Don't allow yourself to indulge in "What Ifs" and doubts. If they arise, simply acknowledge them, maybe even thank them for trying to protect you (I do this a lot when I notice I'm being too harsh with myself), and part ways with them. They do not serve you. They are powerless. Like I always say, treat them as itty bitty flies and swat them away. They are irritating, but insignificant.

You believe in yourself more than you think. When I was a year deep into my shifting journey, I used to say "oh I have a test tomorrow, so I'm not going to try to shift" and then I was like babe, clearly part of you believes you can shift because you're saying stuff like that? It took many instances of things like this to realize that it's not that I don't believe in shifting, it's that I'm unsure of my ability to do it. Even so, a little part of me believes I can, and that is enough to keep me going. Realize that you believe in yourself, probably more than you think. You wouldn't be bothering to read this post unless you thought you had a chance of success.

But even so, you don't have to believe 100% to be successful.

Go out on a limb. This is something I do when the doubts are just buzzing around my head and I feel like they're holding me back. I take a deep breathe and say to myself, "From this point on, I am acting as though I have no doubts because they cannot hold me back." or some variation of that. Basically I say that and then proceed to operate as though I know I will shift or I know I will wake up with my desires because I just set my doubts aside for a bit. They're still there, but I'm basically just ignoring them and acknowledging that they don't have any power unless I give them power. There is absolutely no harm in putting aside doubts for a bit, and it can be extremely helpful.

Don't scour Tumblr. If you're overcomplicating the law, chances are you're scouring Tumblr, looking for every little tip and trick you can find hoping to find that magical bit of knowledge that makes everything click into place. Spoiler: you're not going to find that outside of yourself. Looking for bit after bit after bit of information without actually applying the law is going to complicate the process so so much, so think about taking a step back. Write down how you plan to manifest, what's your "routine", no more than 2 to 3 steps. Write it down. That's your lifeline. Get off Tumblr, TikTok, Instagram, whatever social media you use to learn about manifesting and shifting, and turn back to those steps whenever you have the urge to get back on. Focus on what you already know instead of trying to learn more.

Try not to worry about shifting or going into the void when you're not actively trying to do one or the other. If you're like me before I successfully shifted, you're probably worrying about whether you're going to shift or not at time when you aren't actively trying to shift. You hype yourself up and psych yourself up before the moment even arrives. Stop doing that! Whenever it comes up naturally in your mind, just reply to the thought, "I am going to shift/go into the void tonight" and leave it at that. Go back to whatever you were doing before and don't spend a single second agonizing over something you haven't even attempted yet. If you build up those worries/fears/doubts/negative assumptions whilst you're not actively trying to shift or go into the void, you are just giving a platform to useless negativity that, if you let it, can effect your ability to clear your mind and give shifting/going into the void a proper go.

Decide, don't hope. Part of manifesting is deciding. If you're meek and "try" to manifest as though what you seek isn't certain to come to you, it won't. You have to be assertive. You have to be demanding. You have to claim what is yours and have confidence in your ability to manifest. Stop "hoping" to do something right. Tell yourself you're doing everything right, because you are, babes. Decide to shift, don't hope to shift. Decide you have your desired face, don't hope you affirm enough that you wake up with it. Claim what is yours with open arms and know you have the power to get it the instant you desire it. Have confidence. It's the key to acknowledging your own power.

Don't worry about undesired outcomes. I once heard that if you're skiing and you're worried about hitting trees so much so that all you think of is "don't hit the trees," you're most likely going to hit those trees. Instead, focus on the path. Don't think about what you don't want, think about what you do want. Give your attention to the right things and eventually they will become your reality.

TOO LONG, DIDN'T READ: A SUMMARY

✮ Your doubts only have the power you give them. All power comes from you, so don't waste your infinite potential on negative thoughts. They are itty bitty, pesky flies and nothing more. Swat them away and move on.

✮ You believe in yourself more than you think. Chances are you're not doubting the law, you're doubting yourself. But if you didn't believe in yourself at all, you probably wouldn't be here, looking for my posts. Realize that you believe in yourself more than you think. It's motivating when you're frustrated.

✮ Act as if the road is clear. Allow yourself to put all doubts and road block on hold for a minute. Assume there's nothing in between you and getting your desires. Operate under that feeling for a little bit and see what happens

✮ Stop scouring Tumblr! There's a high chance that you already know exactly what to do, you're just struggling to apply it. Take what you know now, which I can assure you is more than enough, and get off of Tumblr. Do what you can with what you know, and once you feel comfortable with that, come back for the extra tidbits.

✮ Don't worry about shifting/going into the void while you're not actively trying to do it. When you worry about it during the day, you build up expectations for something you haven't even done yet. That's unfair to yourself. Don't worry about it until you're actually doing it.

✮ Stop hoping and start deciding. Hoping for success does nothing. Deciding you already are successful paves the way to getting everything you want. Don't "hope" to shift. Decide to do it. Don't "hope" you wake up with your desired face. Decide you have it right now. Assert your power and confidence.

✮ Focus on what you want, not what you don't want. Give attention to the good and that is what you will bring about. Worrying about getting what you don't want does absofreakinglutely nothing. Focus on the good, don't even think about the bad. It's not what you're getting. You get what you assume you have, so assume the best.

CONCLUSION

I promised you guys another ABA and here it is!! I know this was a bit more "Don't do this" heavy and I am sorry for that, but a lot of my journey came from recognizing what I did wrong and adjusting. I'm sorry if I came off a bit strict as a result of that lol, it was definitely not my intention. I hope this helps you guys, and THANK YOU SO SO SO MUCH FOR 1,000 FOLLOWERS!! It's so crazy to think that this account I started just a few months ago (!!!) has gotten so so popular in such a kind community. Keep being kind to one another and I thank you endlessly for your love and support.

<3 Astra

#manifesting #law of assumption #reality shifting #neville goddard #manifestation #affirmations #loa #self concept #shifting realities #manifest #master manifestor #manifestations #law of manifestation #scripting #manifestingmindset