#both with neck and tooth pain

[deancaskiss]

middle of the day trip to urgent care for my neck pain was super fun (that was sarcasm, mostly because I’m not a fan of human med hahah. I will take care of animals all day long but refuse to take care of my own medical needs oops). so glad my clinician at work allowed me to leave work in the middle of the day so I could get to see someone for my pain. the urgent care doctor prescribed me a muscle relaxant, and an NSAID, and an opioid for the neck pain and an antibiotic for the tooth pain I’ve been having too (while I wait for my dentist appointment next Friday). thank god the doctor at the urgent care took my pain seriously and understood that working with animals and being thrown around by crazy dogs and cats has been making my neck pain worse. hopefully I can pick the meds up on my way home from work and hopefully will be feeling better and less painful soon!

#bex talks #the last two days have been hell #I’ve been in so much pain #both with neck and tooth pain #so ready for some meds to actually reduce the pain because basic OTC meds have not helped #everyone at work has been so nice to me though and has supported and helped me with my neck pain #so grateful for the people I work with

[andvys]

Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter fourteen ⭐︎ Somewhere in these eyes, I'm on your side.

Warnings: fluff, lots and lots fluff, just a teeny tiny bit of angst, just a bunch of tooth rooting sweetness

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: On a rainy Thursday, something shifts between you and Steve, something you can not see yet, while Steve gets lost in a glimpse of the future he could feel on this day.

Word count: 9k+

Author's note: @hellfire--cult thank you for helping me as always, roe. especially with the last bit, you're the bestest ♡ Steve's shower scene was fully written by her so give her some loveeee

Series Masterlist ⭐︎ Previous Chapter ⭐︎ Next Chapter

♡

The rain paddles against your windows softly, the sun is hidden behind the heavy dark clouds, and the light wind rustles the trees outside. You didn’t close the blinds last night, but it doesn’t matter anyways, it’s dark and gloomy outside. 

The soft covers touch your bare skin, the smell of cologne is heavy in the air, along with the smell of sex that still lingers after the previous night. 

The weight of his arm keeps you in place, keeps you close, he is making your heart flutter in this early morning hour already. 

He is facing you, just as you are facing him. His palm rests on your lower back, his legs tangled with yours underneath the sheets. He pulls you closer when you try to move, tightening his hold on you, but he is still so fast asleep. His lashes look so much longer when his eyes are closed, his features are completely relaxed, he is breathing softly, his heart beats against your palm as you keep your hand close to it. 

You eye the moles on his skin and the scars on his body. 

Your hands always itch to touch him, to graze his skin with the tips of your fingers, and you can do so when he’s fast asleep and unaware of your loving touches. 

You raise your hand up to his face, pushing away the curl that hangs loosely over his forehead. Your touch is light as a feather as you trace the bridge of his nose, and his cheek, before you return your hand back to his chest, freezing when a sigh falls from his lips and he stirs in his sleep, pulling you tighter against him in the process before he sinks deeper into the pillows, eyes still shut and heart still beating softly. 

You breathe out and relax when he continues sleeping deeply. 

You don’t want to get caught admiring him, and touching him like this, when only a few days ago, you feared that you would lose him after Eddie confronted you both. 

You cried yourself to sleep that night. 

His words cut deep, and the fear of losing him added to the hurt. You weren’t ready to lose this, you weren’t ready to lose him, and you thought that you were so very close to it until he showed up the next morning, and asked if things would stay the same between you and him now that someone found out.

The weight that stayed on your shoulders nearly crushed you, but he took it off you, and without realizing that he did, he took some of your worries too, just not the pain, and the mark he left on your heart with a few simple words. But it didn’t matter, because kissing him and feeling his touch again, was all that mattered, to know that it wasn’t over just yet… that mattered. 

You can hide the sadness and the pain when he holds you like this, you can even forget about it… momentarily. 

You forgot about it last night, when he kissed your neck and he marked your skin, when he unraveled you with his tongue and the touch of his hands, when he split you open and kissed you like you were his, when he looked into your eyes and he held your wrist as the tips of his fingers touched your palm, like he wanted to entwine them with yours and feel you closer and closer as you were chest to chest and his lips moved with yours like none have ever did before. 

Shivers run down your spine, and butterflies dance in your stomach when the sound of his voice calling out your name echoes in your mind. 

You might not be the one for him. And you know that there might be others, but you don’t even want to let your mind go there, just the mere thought of it, fills you with nausea. He keeps coming back to you, that’s what matters the most to you. You know that you can give him so much more than anyone else ever could. If only he let you. If only there was a chance. 

You nearly jump from the bed when the ringing of the doorbell pulls you out of your thoughts, and it echoes through the quiet house. 

Your eyes widen, and your heart starts pounding as panic settles deep in your chest. You stare at Steve, who is peacefully asleep, still. 

You flinch at the second ringing. 

“Fuck,” you whisper when you remember the burgundy car in your driveway. There is no reason for Steve to be at your place so early in the morning. There is no believable explanation either, what will you say to whoever it is on the other side of the door?

If this is one of your friends, you are screwed, so screwed. 

You know, as a matter of fact, that it isn’t Eddie – he wouldn’t show up this early unless it was an emergency, and even then, he’d be in your room by now. 

“Steve,” you whisper, trying to shake him awake, but he only grumbles in his sleep and hides his face further into the pillows. 

You sigh. 

You push his arm off and escape his embrace. You throw the covers off, and jump up from your bed, standing in only your underwear for a moment as you search for your clothes, you reach for his shirt instead and throw it on, before you rush out of the room, trying to fix your messy hair as you run down the stairs. 

You don’t have much time to come up with lies and excuses as to why Steve’s car is in your driveway, whoever it is on the other side of the door, is getting a little impatient. 

“I’m coming,” you grumble and unlock the front door before you rip it open, holding your breath. 

“Finally!” 

You sigh out in relief, rolling your eyes at your own panic. You step aside and open the door a little wider. 

“What took you so long?” Your sister murmurs as she steps inside and brushes past you. She is carrying a bag in one hand and the bright pink baby carrier your baby niece is currently sleeping in. 

All your annoyance leaves your body right this second, your eyes soften and a smile appears on your face. 

“Hello to you too, Twinkie.” 

She rolls her eyes at your nickname but pulls you in for a side hug after dropping the bag on the ground. 

“Give me her,” you smile as you take the carrier from her arm, and carry it into the living room, smiling as you eye the little features of the baby girl. You put the carrier down on the couch. “Hi Francine,” you whisper, gently tapping her tiny nose. “She’s so big already!” 

Your sister laughs as she follows you into the living room after kicking off her shoes, “you’ve seen her last week, I don’t think she grew much.” 

“She kind of did,” you whisper, taking Francine’s tiny hand. “They grow so fast.”

Your sister walks over to the window, peeking outside, she clears her throat, “do I wanna know whose car that is?” 

You glance over your shoulder and swallow nervously. 

You’re glad that her memory is awful. 

Everyone knows who is driving the burgundy BMW, and your sister still lived in Hawkins when he got it. She should know who it belongs to.

Her lips curl into a smirk, and she wiggles her brows, “casual hook up, or… is it something serious?” 

You know that she has been waiting for this day. 

It is something serious, to you. 

It is something serious when he holds you closely and kisses you softly, when his eyes soften and his lips curl into a smile at the sight of you. 

It is something serious when your heart flutters every time his knuckles brush against yours. 

It is something serious when you fall asleep in his arms and wake up in the very same spot. 

It is something serious when you keep falling and falling with no end in sight. 

Will you ever stop falling in love with him? 

Will there ever be a moment where your feelings and your love will stop at one level, or will you continue falling harder every passing moment? 

Your sister raises her eyebrows, lips curling into an even bigger smile, when she notices the flustered look on your face, the dreamy look in your eyes. 

“Something serious, huh?” 

You blink. 

Staring at her, with your cheeks now feeling warm… way too warm, you shake your head quickly. 

“N-No.” 

You curse inwardly, for giving yourself away so easily with your stuttering and your blushing. That’s not how you ever reacted before when she mentioned any of your hookups. 

She grins at you, wiggling her eyebrows, “mhm sure, Daisy.” 

You roll your eyes at her teasing glances, but the nickname makes you smile. 

Out of all the flowers, your mom loved Daisies the most, she would put the dainty flowers in your braids, and behind your ear whenever you were out in the garden. You would pick them for her and make little bouquets to surprise her with. 

She always called you her little Daisy. 

Your sister picked up on that nickname, though she used it to mock you at first when she went through a weird phase of hating flowers – which is really ironic considering the flower shop she ended up working at when she moved to the city.

She could’ve given you another nickname, something silly – something like the name you gave to her, but she spared you, luckily. 

“Shut up, Twinkie,” you mumble, as you look back at your niece, who is beginning to stir in her sleep, her long lashes fluttering as small noises escape her mouth. “As happy as I am to see this little bean, why are you here at uh,” you pause, turning your head to look at the clock on the wall, “ten in the morning?” You ask. 

She makes her way over to you, a sweet smile appearing on her face, as she gives you her best puppy eyes. 

“I was hoping that you could look after Francine?” She asks, still smiling. “Lisa is getting married soon, and she asked me to go wedding dress shopping with her, I can’t take her, we’ll probably be out all day, and I can’t wait for Ethan to get home, his shift won’t end before–”

“It’s fine, I’ll look after her,” you interrupt her, despite the slight nervousness that rises up in you. 

You have no experience with babies at all, you have given her the bottle, you even changed her diaper, but your sister was around, and you didn’t spend the whole day alone with her. 

She sighs in relief, she puts her hand on your shoulder, “oh thank you!”

“Don’t mention it, I’d never say no to hanging out with my favorite girl.” 

“You need to spend more time with her anyways, you coming once a week isn’t enough!” 

You frown at your sister, “you’re the one who moved away!” 

She waves her hand at you, walking around the couch, she walks over to the carrier, “she always does that little scrunch with her nose before she wakes up.” 

You smile, watching as she leans in to place a gentle kiss to her daughter’s cheek. 

“Okay,” she whispers, pulling back to look at you, “I put everything into the bag, diapers, bottles, formula, a change of clothes in case her diapers leak, and uh… pacifiers. And uh, you know if she cries just lie down with her and put her on your chest, she loves cuddles.” 

You nod, “yeah, I know, I haven’t forgotten. I got this.”

“Yeah you do, Daisy. And if you need help, just call Eddie–”

“Are you kidding?” You laugh, shaking your head as amusement flashes in your eyes. 

Eddie and Max were there, the last time your sister showed up with her husband and little Francine. 

While the redhead was rather excited to hold the little girl, Eddie felt too afraid to even touch her, and he nearly gagged when Max chased him with a dirty diaper. 

“He looked at her like he was scared of her!” 

Your sister laughs, “yeah, right. Okay, so not Eddie then, I’m sure Max would love to help though, or maybe someone else – but I’ll get going now, I promise, I’ll make it up to you, you got this, Daisy.” She smiles, ruffling your hair, she leans down to look at her daughter one more time, “bye bug, I’ll see you soon,” she whispers and squeezes her tiny foot before she steps away. ��Okay, I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah, see you later, Twinkie.” 

The moment the front door is slammed shut, you let out a long sigh, and throw your head back against the pillows on your couch. You bring your hand up to your face and pinch the bridge of your nose. 

You are still tired, and it seems as though Steve is still sleeping soundly. 

You want nothing more than to return back to bed and sink into your pillows again. 

You definitely won’t get any sleep now, but you still get up and slowly lift the baby carrier, hoping that the movement won’t wake her up. You try to be careful as you make your way out of the living room and up the stairs. 

When you walk into your room, you find Steve now laying on his stomach, his face buried in your pillow. The sheets are low on his body, his whole back is exposed. 

The tiny cooing sounds from inside the carrier, cause your lips to curl into a big smile. You place it down on your carpet, and kneel down, giggling when you’re met by her big eyes. She starts wiggling around when she sees you. 

“Hi little angel,” you whisper, and lean closer to unfasten the safety belts, before you lift her up from the carrier, placing your right hand behind her head, you pull her into your chest, her hand instantly reaches for your hair, clasping her tiny fingers around it, she makes you laugh when she starts pulling it, making happy noises while she does so. 

You sit down on your bed, and lift your legs up, scooting back until you’re resting against the pillows behind you. You pull the covers over your lower body. 

A small squeal leaves her mouth.

“Shh, someone’s sleeping,” you whisper, tapping her little nose, glancing at Steve who is starting to stir in his sleep. 

You place her on your lap, and giggle at the cuteness as she stretches her little legs out. “That’s a cute onesie,” you whisper, rubbing her belly, “I bet you picked that yourself didn’t you? Pink is a pretty color on you, princess.” 

She babbles and wiggles around as she stares at you with her big eyes. 

Your voice, and the small coos pull Steve out of his deep sleep, his mind is still in a haze, his eyes still closed. 

“Da da da.” 

Your giggle follows the tiny voice. 

Steve scrunches his brows together, gripping the pillow underneath him, he slowly opens his eyes and looks at your side of the bed, his lips part and his eyes widen completely, something in his chest stirs strongly as he stares at the sight in front of him. 

He is still sleeping. 

He is still dreaming. 

A smile is resting on your face, eyes lightened up as you entertain the little baby girl on your lap, a pink bow around her head, big eyes resembling your own as she stares at you with a smile on her face, her hair color is the same as yours. 

Steve swallows the lump that grew in his throat, warmth settles in his chest, surrounding his heart and filling it with something, with adoration. 

His eyes soften when you lean down to kiss her forehead, squishing her tiny cheeks. 

“You’re the prettiest girl, Francis,” you whisper, using her nickname. 

His lips curl into a smile, despite the confusion that still lingers in his features. 

This is surely one of his dreams, he is convinced of it, why else would he wake up beside you, and a baby who looks like you?

But when you turn to face him, and the little girl follows your movement, looking at him with wide eyes, he isn’t so sure anymore. 

He blinks, watching as you reach for Francis’s little arm, waving her tiny hand at him, “say hi Steve.” 

The little girl babbles even louder, making a grabby hand at him. 

Steve smiles at her, raising his hand up, he waves at her.

You can’t help but laugh at the lost and confused look on his face, his brows are pulled together, his lips parted as he looks between you and your niece. 

He turns around on his back, and pushes himself so he’s leaning against your headboard, adjusting the cover, he pulls it up higher. He looks around the room, before his eyes return to the two of you, he runs his fingers through his messy hair, eyes flickering back and forth.

Your lips tug into a smirk, you can tell that he doesn’t understand a thing right now. 

You look at him, as you pull your niece closer, holding her up, you press her against your chest, “can you believe that we made a baby overnight?” 

You almost burst into laughter when his brown eyes widened with pure shock, and he choked a little. 

He blinks, shaking his head, “I know I just woke up, and I’m still sleepy… but… I still kind of remember biology.” 

Francine makes another grabby hand at him, “ma ma.”

“I dunno, but I’m pretty sure she just called you mama.”

Steve’s cheeks heat up, and he turns away from you, looking around your room again before his eyes catch the picture on your nightstand, the one of you and your sister. Oh. 

“Ah… Your niece,” Steve murmurs as he looks back at the two of you. 

“Good morning, Harrington,” you giggle. Francine copies your giggle, and Steve can’t help but smile. “Oh you like that name, huh? It’s funny isn’t it? Harrington.” Her little eyes crinkle, and she starts babbling with a laugh. Steve keeps her eyes on her, smiling at the little girl.

“That’s Francine,” you smile, introducing your niece to him. 

Steve lifts his hand up, waving his fingers at her, “hi Francine, I’m Steve.” 

She squirms in your arms, making happy noises as she blinks at him. Steve chuckles, he scoots closer to you, and he lifts his hand, and touches her tiny one. Francine wraps her hand around his finger, gripping it tightly, making his smile even bigger. 

“Is your sister here?” He asks, without looking away from the little girl. 

You shake your head, “no, she asked me to babysit today. So uh… I’ll be busy with my girl here today.” 

The urge to stay here with you, and this cute little mini you, feels so strong. 

“Want me to help?” Steve asks. 

You’re a little stunned by his question, and can only stare in surprise. 

“Huh?” 

“I mean, I don’t mind staying to help,” Steve shrugs, glancing at you for a second before he gives his attention back to Francine, who stares at him in awe.

The thought of spending a whole day with Steve, taking care of a baby with him, sounds like heaven. 

The only reason why he’s ever even around you without the group is because of sex, and that only. You don’t meet up just to watch movies, cook together or anything else, you only meet up for one thing, that’s all. 

The fact that he is willing to just spend time with you, without expecting anything to happen baffles you a little. 

“I-I… Do you really want to stay?” 

He nods. 

“Not much of a choice, to be honest,” he murmurs with a fond smile on his face as he gestures to your niece who is still holding his finger tightly. 

“O-Okay,” you whisper, shakily as nervousness and excitement rise up in you. 

“She’s so adorable,” Steve whispers, chuckling when Francine babbles at him, “she looks like you.” 

You smile before you realize what he just said, and heat rushes to your cheeks. 

She’s so adorable, she looks like you.

“I-I uh,” you stutter, trying to keep your cool, “so you’re gonna stay then?”

“Yeah, I’d love to hang out with Blondie and mini Blondie over here,” he chuckles as he taps her nose. 

Your heart could burst right then and there, your cheeks feeling incredibly hot the longer you sit here and stare at him. 

“Cool,” you say with a small voice as you suddenly feel the need to escape for a moment, “would you mind looking after her for a moment then? I wanna take a quick shower or else I’ll walk around looking like a bum all day.” 

Steve turns to look at you, he takes in the sight of your messy hair, and the shirt on your body, only now noticing that it’s his. His insides tingle, and his lips curl into a smile. 

You look like a cute bum. He almost blurts out, but bites his tongue. 

“Sure, go ahead, me and Francine are just gonna hang out, right?” 

She squeals in response, making jumpy movements. 

You both laugh at her. 

You lay her down beside him, and tickle her belly, giggling when she starts kicking her feet, “alright, I’ll be right back, angel.” 

Steve doesn’t even notice how big his smile is, how soft his eyes are as he stares at you, how warm the feeling in his chest is. 

“She might roll over on her belly, and if she gets a little fuzzy just pick her up, she loves snuggles. I’m gonna be quick.” 

Steve scoots closer to Francine, leaning his elbow on the pillow, he rests his head against his palm, and glances at you, “it’s fine, take your time, I’m just gonna chat with her.” 

Francine is still kicking her feet and waving around with her little arms.

“Oh yeah, she’s very talkative,” you giggle, and get up from the bed, you walk over to your dresser and pick out some clothes to change into. As much as you would love to wear his shirt all day, he needs it himself – although, you wouldn’t mind him walking around shirtless. 

Once you get everything you need, you turn back to take a look at them, and you nearly melt into a puddle when you see the way she is still clutching his finger, kicking her legs and babbling something to him, while he watches her with a smile on his face. 

“O-Okay, I’ll be right back.” 

You leave the room in a haste, but Steve doesn’t even notice, too busy staring at little Francine. He adores the resemblance of you, and the color of her eyes that matches yours, she truly looks like you. 

Steve can’t remember the last time he saw or even held a baby, he’s not sure if he ever even held one. He was ten when one of his cousins was born, but he didn’t care to hold him back then. 

Francine keeps making a grabby hand at him, while she tugs at his finger, starting to get fuzzy after a few minutes pass without your presence in the room. 

He sits up straighter and pulls the blanket up higher, he reaches for one of your throw pillows and places it on his lap. 

“Alright Francine,” Steve whispers, he takes a deep breath and furrows his brows in concentration as he carefully lifts her up, supporting her head with his palm, he pulls her closer and lays her down on the soft pillow. 

She coos and starts blowing bubbles, making Steve laugh. 

“Oh, you’re so adorable,” he smiles, pulling her a little closer, “did you pick that bow today?” He asks, eying the headband around her little head. 

She makes a few grunting noises, though looking at him with a happy look on her face. 

“Your auntie loves those bows too, she puts some in her ponytails sometimes,” Steve says, talking to her as though he will get more than just a few babbles from her. “I bet you’re gonna steal them from her someday–”

Prrrrrrrrrrrrrrt

Steve’s face pales at the sound, his eyes widen. 

The noise that came from her diapers sounded more than just air. 

“Oh fuck,” he mumbles before his eyes widen further at the curse word that just left his lips, “I shouldn’t have said that, shit– I mean, I’m sorry, please forget what I just said,” he rambles, as though she understood a single thing that he said. 

Francine babbles, kicking her feet into his stomach with a happy squeal. 

“Um,” he panics, looking around the room, “Blondie!?”

“What Steve!?” You call from the bathroom, “it’s been five minutes!” 

“I uh–” He mumbles, scratching the back of his neck as he furrows his brows, “code red…?” 

You nearly laugh at his choice of words, you only ever used code red in the upside down, for the real emergencies. 

You can already guess what happened, and it only makes your amusement grow bigger. You quickly put your clothes on, and brush your hair before you make your way out of the bathroom and back to them. 

“Okay, I’m here,” you announce, placing his shirt that you stole earlier on your bed, you walk over to his side, and take a seat beside him, “that was the quickest shower of my life.” 

He gets a whiff of your vanilla body wash, of the mint from your toothpaste, and the smell of perfume that lingers in your hair, making his chest flutter. 

“She uh– I think she needs a diaper change.” 

“Oh,” you laugh, “that’s what you’re panicking about?” 

Steve glares at you.

“You wanted to help,” you shrug as you get up again, making your way out of the room again to get the bag with Francine’s stuff. “You gotta learn how to change diapers, Harrington!” 

Steve huffs nervously, “no big deal right?” He whispers to Francine. 

“Da da da.” 

“Yeah,” Steve laughs, “right.”

You come back into the room, and put the bag on the ground, picking out new diapers, wet wipes, baby powder and the spare onesie, along with the thin baby towel that you spread out on your mattress. 

“Alright, Lego head,” you raise your eyebrows at him, “do you wanna practice for your future nuggets or are you scared of baby poop?” 

He snorts, shaking his head at you.

“No, I’m not scared of baby poop.” 

You walk over to them both and lean down before him, you pick Francine up, and scrunch your face up, “yeah, you really need a diaper change, angel.”

Steve watches as you carry her over to the other side, placing her down on the towel you spread out. You undo the buttons of her onesie, smiling at the little girl. 

“Well, come on,” you giggle at him, “it’s an experience you gotta make, Steve.” 

Steve takes a deep breath, he throws the pillow off his lap and removes the cover. He gets up from the bed, standing there in his boxers for a moment, until his eyes find the sweatpants he discarded last night, he quickly throws them on, along with the shirt you wore earlier. 

“Alright,” he murmurs, running his fingers through his hair, he walks up beside you, “just tell me what to do.” 

You chuckle at his nervousness, you place your hand on his shoulder, “don’t worry, if Max was able to do it, you can do it too.” 

A breathy laugh falls from his lips. 

You guide him, giving him a little step by step of what to do. 

You watch the way his brows knit together, and the way he is nodding to himself as he follows your words. 

He doesn’t even look disgusted when the smell hits him, he only chuckles at the way Francine continues babbling happily. 

“She’s a happy baby, isn’t she?” 

You nod, smiling down at your niece, “yes she is.”

You hand him the new diapers and the baby powder, before you put the used wipes into the dirty diaper, roll it up carefully and throw it into the trash in your bathroom before you return to your room. 

“How old is she?” 

“She’s gonna be three months old tomorrow,” you say, smiling as you step up beside him again. 

Steve raises his eyebrows at Francine, “oh, you’re gonna be a big girl tomorrow?” He jokes as he tickles her belly, making her laugh. 

The smile on your face widens, the feeling in your chest growing stronger and brighter. 

Her small giggles, and the fond smile that rests in his tired features spark something deep inside of you, a warming and comforting feeling appears as you watch him take care of her with careful and slow movements. 

“Is that okay?” He asks you, gesturing to the diapers he put on her, “or is it too tight?”

You lean closer to him and check the pressure, “no, that’s perfect, Steve.”

“It is?” He asks, surprised. 

You nod, and start to put her onesie back on, “yeah, I don’t even know what you panicked about, you’ve done a better job than me, I didn’t know what I was doing the first time,” you laugh. “You did good, Lego head.” 

A dimpled grin appears on his face, despite the redness in his cheeks. 

“I-I think caring for a bunch of kids that turned into teens turned me into a natural, even babies. I mean, Dustin counts as a baby, doesn’t he?” He jokes, watching the way your eyes crinkle and your lips spread before you burst into giggles. 

Francine watches you with big eyes before she copies your giggles like before. 

Steve’s eyes light up, as he watches you both. 

The warmth in his chest spreads, as happiness rises up in him. 

After adjusting her clothes and the bow on her head, you pick her up into your arms, leaning down to kiss her cheek. 

You don’t even notice just how soft the look in his eyes, how the ghost of a smile now lingers on his lips, as he stares at the both of you in awe, watching the way Francine buries her face in the crook of your neck, and you keep a gentle hand on the back of her head. 

“Do you want some breakfast? I can make you something after I give this princess her bottle, I think she’s getting tired again.”

Steve’s heart thumps strongly in his chest, he can’t deny the emotions of adoration in him as he looks at you with the baby on your arm. 

“I can make you a breakfast sandwich or anything else you want.” 

Steve blinks. 

“Uh, you don’t have to make anything for me, Blondie. I can make you something though.”

You shake your head, “no, you’re my guest, I’ll make you breakfast, and you can feed her if you want.” 

“Okay,” he says with a sigh, nodding his head, “I’ll make you lunch or dinner though.”

“Oh, are you gonna woo me with your cooking skills now?” You giggle. 

He looks down with a smile, “I promised I would, didn’t I?” 

“Yeah, you did.” 

Francine clasps her fingers around your hair again, pulling it stronger than before, making you wince a little. 

“Okay, okay, someone’s getting a little grumpy now. I’m gonna go make her the bottle.” 

“I’ll be right there with you, I’m just gonna go brush my teeth real quick,” Steve gestures to your bathroom, “do you need me to carry the bag down?”

“No, it’s fine, it’s not heavy,” you say as you step towards him, “but can you help me put it on my shoulder?”

“Yeah, of course.”

He grabs the bag and steps towards you, putting the strap around your shoulder. His eyes soften yet again, when he sees you looking down at your niece, smiling as she blinks at you with her big eyes. 

Steve doesn’t even notice that his hand still lingers on your shoulder, or that he’s rubbing your back, he is too in awe of the two of you, and that feeling stays with him, even when you leave the room and go downstairs, even when he goes into the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face, he stares at his reflection in the mirror, and he can’t even unsee the happiness and the relaxation in his features, but he decides to pay no mind to it. 

When he joins you downstairs, he finds you in the kitchen, finishing up on Francine’s bottle, you’re shaking it, while whispering something to her as you’re still holding her in your arm, still. 

Steve doesn’t know what it is, but the sight before him, makes him freeze in his spot. 

As you stand there in your kitchen, with a smile on your lips, and a look of adoration in your eyes, you’re cooing at your niece, giggling every time she babbles something at you, he realizes something. 

You are comfortable, right now. 

You’re in your home, away from the eyes of strangers, hidden from the world that you have only shown one side of yourself to, your walls are down, you are just yourself, and there is no shame behind your eyes, because all your attention goes to someone you adore and love, and don’t feel the need to hide from. 

Your eyes shine brightly, your features are relaxed in a way they have never been before, and your smile is so genuine, so real. 

You’re talking to her with a small and gentle voice, you hold her tightly against your chest – and you… god you look so beautiful like this. 

You look so beautiful with a baby in your arms. 

Warmth spreads across his whole body, he likes the sight in front of him, he likes it so much that it should scare him, but it doesn’t. 

“There he is, Francis,” you smile, glancing at Steve, you don’t even notice how frozen in place he is, how heaven struck he looks, “are you ready to give her the bottle?” 

Steve blinks, snapping out of his mind, he nods at you with a blush on his cheeks. 

You brush past him, and gesture for him to follow you into the living room, after you grab the cloth from the counter. 

You place the bottle on the coffee table, and wait for him to take a seat on the couch. 

“Alright, you gotta tell me what to do,” Steve says nervously, as he sits down, “I’ve never done this before.” 

“Don’t be nervous, you got this,” you assure him. 

You step between his legs, and lean down to place Francine into his arms. 

Without needing to be told, he cradles the back of her head, as he gently pulls her into his arms, a smile spreading on his lips when her big eyes look into his. 

“Okay,” you whisper and put the cloth under her chin, adjusting it over her clothes in case a little accident might happen. 

“Am I holding her correctly?” Steve asks, looking up at you. 

The side of her face is nuzzled into his chest, the back of her head resting in the crook of his arm. You didn’t even need to guide him, he truly is a natural. 

“Yeah,” you smile, “you’re doing great.”

You hand him the bottle, and sit down beside him. 

“Did you test the temperature?” Steve asks, and you almost want to laugh at his question. 

“Yeah Steve, I did.” 

He nods at you. 

With a chuckle, you pull your feet up onto the sofa and sit on your knees, turning your body towards them. 

“Okay, now gently place the teat into her mouth and slowly tilt the bottle, she will do the rest.” 

He furrows his brows, poking his tongue through his lips, he focuses on your niece as he follows your words. 

You watch him closely, how soft and concentrated his eyes are, how careful his movements are, how small she looks in his arms, how sweet the sight of them is. 

Francine raises her little arm, and places her tiny hand on the bottle as she starts sucking on the teat, small noises falling from her. 

“Oh my god,” Steve whispers, the biggest smile you have ever seen, now glowing in his features as he looks at her in awe, “she’s the cutest little bean.” 

“Yeah, she is,” you smile and tilt your head as you watch them, the fluttering feeling in your chest sparking.

Her eyelashes flutter, her big eyes still staring into his. 

“I’m gonna cry, Blondie,” Steve murmurs, adoring the little human in his arms. “She's so tiny and adorable.” 

You move closer and reach for the corner of the cloth, wiping away the bit of milk that rolls down her chin. 

“You’re gonna have one of those someday too.”

Steve smiles at your words, nodding as he whispers “hopefully.” 

But he doesn’t notice the way your own smile falls, the way your eyes sadden for a moment, the way you look down and blink away the feelings you don’t want him to see. And he doesn’t realize how quiet you get, he is too distracted by Francine and the thoughts in his head, the pictures of a future he longs for so badly. 

Only when the bottle is empty and he removes it, does he turn back to you, but still too blinded by his mind to see the look in your eyes. You take the bottle from his hand, and place it back on the coffee table. 

“You gotta hold her against your chest now,” you tell him and remove the cloth from her body, you place it on his chest instead, “and gently pat her back so she can burp.” 

You guide him again, helping him hold her correctly as he places her against his chest, he puts his hand on her back, and starts patting gently. 

“Is that good?”

“Yeah,” you whisper and scoot closer to him, you reach for her tiny hand, caressing it as you watch her with a smile on your face, “she’s tired.” 

“Yeah, pooping must’ve been really exhausting,” Steve jokes, making you giggle. 

“Yeah, totally–”

A loud burp falls from her mouth. 

“Oh that was a big one,” Steve chuckles as he stops patting her, “you did good, bug.”

“She didn’t even spit, she usually does a little, wow you really do have magical hands,” you chuckle, and remove the cloth from his shoulder. 

“Told you, I’m a natural,” he smiles proudly. 

You roll your eyes playfully. 

“Do you want me to take her now?” You ask. 

He shakes his head at you, “can I hold her for a while?” 

Confusion flashes in your eyes. You know how badly he needs his coffee in the mornings, it’s one of the first things he does after he wakes up, going into the kitchen to brew his beloved morning coffee. He didn’t even take a single sip yet, but he doesn’t seem to mind, he is too in awe of the baby on his chest. 

Realization replaces the look in your eyes – he is entering a baby fever trance, with your niece nonetheless. It makes your smile reappear, that’s how you feel too, every time you get to spend time with her. 

“Of course,” you whisper, as your gaze softens. 

Francine’s eyelashes flutter, her blinking getting slower and lesser. 

“She’s gonna pass out though, you should sit back a little so she can lay on you.” 

He nods at your words, placing one hand on her back and the other under her bum, he lays back slowly, his lips twitching into a small smile when he sees her already falling asleep. She scrunches up her nose as she nuzzles her face into his chest, making you both laugh when she suddenly throws her hand up, managing to catch onto a strand of his hair. 

She wiggles around for a moment, before her eyes start falling shut. 

“And she’s out,” Steve whispers, chuckling to himself. “I wish I could fall asleep this fast.” 

“Yeah, me too.”

Her cheek is squished against him, she’s breathing softly now, her hand falling from his hair and onto his shoulder, her little headband beginning to slip off. 

You reach out to take it off her head slowly, and lean in to place a soft kiss on her forehead, unaware of the fond smile on Steve’s lips, or the feelings that rush through him because of you. 

“I’m gonna go make some coffee and breakfast now,” you mumble as you pull away, and get up from the couch, grabbing the bottle and the cloth. 

Steve’s eyes follow you as you walk over to the TV stand, and grab the remote, handing it to him, “you can watch something if you want, it won’t disturb her, she’s a heavy sleeper.”

“I’m good, I’ll watch her for now,” he whispers. 

“Okay, I’ll be right back,” you say, and give him a smile before you leave the room. 

A genuine smile. 

You smiled at him before, countless of times actually, but he could never tell what was real and what wasn’t, what was genuine and what was forced or just sarcastic. But this, this was a real smile, and there was no second meaning behind it. You just smiled at him, naturally. It makes him feel… happy, and as he looks down at the little girl that has your features, he realizes something. 

The feeling in his chest was never for nothing, it was never false or misleading. 

It was just as real as the smile you blessed him with. 

Suddenly, everything before him doesn't seem as dull and colorless as it did all these past months and even years, something sparks before his eyes and he can see again, he can feel something besides the never ending gnawing in his chest and the restlessness in his bones, the fears that nestled deep into his soul. He finally sees something other than the darkened clouds and the red lights that keep flashing before his eyes. 

A light that keeps peeking through every once in a while is on the verge of breaking through, making the walls around him rattle as the foundation starts to crumble, one brick at a time starts falling into an abyss. 

A future lays before his eyes, calling out to him and waiting to be grasped, an echo, a whisper, a glimpse of what could be if things were only different. 

For the rest of the day, Steve feels as though he had fallen into a pleasant dream, a world where it’s only you and him, a little girl that made him realize just how badly he wants to have a family of his own – he already knew that he wanted it, but he pictured the wrong person by his side, a person he no longer even wanted. 

He was blinded by old feelings, and the wish to have something real again, when it never even was to begin with. 

The feelings that are sparking in him now, feel so different from anything that he had ever felt before, and he only opens his eyes to them more and more as the day passes, and he sees a side of you that he had never seen before. 

He sees with how much love and gentleness you treat your niece, he sees the way your eyes hold nothing but adoration for the girl that you would do anything for. 

He hears how soft your voice can get. 

He feels how soft your touch can be when you once again hand her to him. 

And his heart beats so strongly, so fastly in his chest when a giggle falls from your lips after Francine pouts when you take her away from him again, only to be forced to place her back into his arms when she almost starts crying. 

Steve adores her, and he adores you – a little more as every second of this day passes. 

The thing that pushes him nearer towards the finish line of realization, is this very moment in front of him. 

Your niece fell asleep on his chest yet again, you are sitting right next to him, with your head on his shoulder and your eyes glued on her, your finger tracing her little features. The urge to pull you closer and hold you feels so strong to the point that his fingers start itching. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t cook dinner for you,” he whispers. 

You look at him through your lashes, the corner of your lip twitching as your eyes flicker to his lips for a brief moment. 

The only light in the room now coming from the TV, the volume set on the lowest. The rain is still falling, even as the night nears. 

“It’s okay, Francis didn’t let you,” you giggle softly, not knowing that the sound makes his heart flutter. “Besides, the pizza was really good.” 

“Yeah, it was,” he whispers. 

He notices how tired you look, how the sleepiness is beginning to set into your features now too. 

“Look at her tiny nose,” you whisper as you look back at her, “and those little hands.”

Something in the way you hold her hand and whisper so adoringly about her, makes him long for you even more – but not in a way he had felt before, no, this is different, this is so very serious. 

Steve lifts his arm as a blush creeps up to his cheeks, he wraps his arm around you, and pulls you closer, “come here,” he whispers into your hair, “there’s space for two Blondies on my chest.”

He doesn’t know what kind of emotions he can trigger in you, with such simple words. 

He doesn’t know that you have been dying to feel this. 

You lay your head on his chest, and he can’t help but smile at the sigh that falls from your lips. You put your arm around Francine, and snuggle against him, and you stay like that, for a while at least, until Steve allows his feelings to take the lead. 

He adjusts the blanket over Francine before he pulls you even closer, and he buries his fingers in your hair, allowing himself to play with it like he only ever does when you’re fast asleep and unaware of his soft touches or the glances that fall upon your skin. 

He would feel joy if he knew about the emotions that linger inside of you. 

“You will be an amazing dad to your little nuggets someday, Steve,” you say in a whisper, it’s almost too quiet for him to hear, “and a good husband too.” 

The shakiness in your voice and the sadness goes by unnoticed by him, he is too stunned by your words. 

If he could see inside your head, he would know how much sadness there is, how the dark clouds always reside, how you don’t see a future for yourself because you know that he won’t be in it, and without him, what will you have? What will you be? A wilting rose, left behind to die. You are barely holding on now, but you are still here, because he is still keeping you alive. Your life is in his hands. 

Steve takes a deep breath, he opens his mouth to whisper to you, only to see you fast asleep now too, your cheek squished against his chest just like Francine’s is. 

He breathes out, lips curling into a smile as he stops playing with your hair. 

“You will be amazing too, Blondie,” he whispers. 

A girlfriend. A wife. A mother. 

Whatever you choose to be, whoever you will bless with your love, they are going to be so lucky to have you. 

And before he can even realize where his thoughts are taking him, a frown nestles into his features. The thought that he will become a memory to you, makes him feel uneasy. The thought that someone will step into your life, and take away what you both have, fills him with gray-ish sadness once again. The image of someone putting a ring on your finger and getting to be the one to lift the veil and kiss you on the altar openly, in front of everybody, and without needing to hide, spreads the darkness in him, yet again. 

He looks down at you, at the way you look so comfortable in his embrace, while your soft hand stays on the girl’s back, he admires you, and he feels no shame to do so, not even when he lifts his hand to brush your hair out of your face. 

But his time with you is cut short when the front door unlocks and opens, and footsteps echo in the hallway, a moment later. 

He turns his face away from you, when your sister steps into the living room, freezing in her steps when she sees him. 

Steve swallows the lump in his throat, giving her a tight lipped smile, he raises his hand to wave at her, “hi…”

She furrows her brows as she takes in the sight of you three, her lips pulling into a confused smile. She takes her denim jacket off and walks further into the room, her lips curling into a big smile when she takes a look at her girl. 

But then her eyes fall back on him, and suddenly, her lips part in surprise. 

“Hi…Oh– you, hang on,” she mumbles, tilting her head before her eyes widen, “Steve Harrington?”

Steve doesn’t know what to think of the look on her face, or the stunned tone in her voice. 

He met her before, at the hospital when she came to visit you, but he didn’t talk to her, and her reaction makes him wonder if you have mentioned him before. 

“Yeah… that’s uh… that’s me.”

The silence that follows is almost too loud, he can see the way she looks between you both, back and forth, as her brows stay furrowed. 

She points a finger between you both, “so uh… you’re her boyfriend?”

Steve hesitates, and he glances down at you, bitterness lays on his tongue when he utters the next words, “uh… no… no, I’m not.” Sadly, he thinks.

And when he registers the words that popped into his head out of nowhere, he suddenly wants nothing more than to escape this situation, fearing his own feelings again. 

“I-I should go now.” 

“Oh, you’re not staying another night?” She asks, a somewhat smug tone in her voice as she looks at you. 

He would love to, but it’s better to go now. It’s not safe to stay, not for his heart.

“No, I have to work tomorrow.”

“Ah,” she nods and walks over to the three of you, “I’ll take her now,” she whispers, and carefully picks her daughter up. The little girl stirs in her sleep, grunting quietly but not opening her eyes just yet. 

“She’s a heavy sleeper,” Steve chuckles as he watches the way Francine relaxes into her mother’s arms. 

“She really is,” your sister laughs, and walks over to the armchair, taking a seat before she looks back up at Steve, “kind of like Daisy when she’s relaxed,” she nudges her chin towards you. 

A smile appears on his face, and he looks down at you, his arm is still wrapped around you, and he already dreads the feeling of having to let you go. 

“Yeah,” he whispers, taking a long look at you, before he decides to get up. 

A sigh leaves his lips, and he slowly slips away from you, replacing his chest with a pillow for your head, his eyes soften when you scrunch your nose up just the way your niece did earlier. He adjusts the blanket over you, fighting the urge to leave a kiss on your forehead before he steps away. 

Your sister eyes him closely, watching how he treats you with so much care. 

When Steve steps away, and looks away from you, glancing at your sister, heat rushes to his cheeks when he sees the way she looks between you both, a smug look lingering in her eyes, a small but teasing smile on her face. 

He wants to run. 

“Okay uh,” he mumbles, scratching the back of his neck before he points his finger at the hallway, “I’m gonna go.” 

“Okay,” she nods, “thanks for helping with Francine.”

He waves his hand, a smile now reappearing on his face as he looks at the baby girl, already missing the feeling of holding her. 

“No need to thank me, I loved spending time with these two,” he chuckles, pointing between you and your niece. “But uh, I’m gonna head out.”

“Alright,” she smiles at him.

He takes one last look at you before he turns around and makes his way out of the living room, he puts his Nike’s on, and grabs the car keys he threw on the counter, last night. 

“Bye, Twinkie.”

“Bye…” She mumbles with furrowed brows, confused at the name he just called her by. 

The front door shuts quietly, yet loud enough to wake you up. With a flinch, you open your eyes, and look around the room, feeling a little disoriented. You look to your side, the empty spot beside you, making you frown. 

“Your boyfriend left,” your sister's voice sounds through the room. 

You turn to her, finding her in the armchair she always loved so much. A smug look is resting on her lips. 

“Shut up,” you mumble, glaring at her. 

She laughs at you, and leans back, getting comfortable in her seat. 

“Spill. Now.” 

-

The hot water rolls down Steve’s skin, the smell of shampoo surrounds him as he washes his hair. 

His eyes are closed, but a smile rests on his lips, as images of all the things that happened today replay in his mind. 

The fluttering in his chest hasn’t stopped at all, everything you did, everything you said, every single touch of yours has seemingly turned him into a hopeless teenager again – only, he isn’t one anymore, and the feelings inside of him, go much deeper than the ones of a seventeen year old boy. 

And no matter how much he tries to deny them, he just can’t, because it becomes less and less possible to pretend that they aren’t there.

Today, they shined through so brightly, when he saw how soft and gentle you could be, when he saw the sides of you that you never wanted to show. He saw something he never thought was even there. And it causes awful feelings to rise up in him, when he comes to the realization that all these years, you were only protecting yourself from the hurt in this world, and you did so by putting up a front and giving people the wrong pictures of yourself.

You were mean and rough to those you didn’t trust, and he was one of them, maybe he still is, but he saw you today. 

When you greeted him this morning, with your niece in your arms. 

When you kissed her little forehead, and held her in your sweet embrace. 

When you taught him to bottle feed her. 

When you admired her with him, and traced her little features with your finger and a loving smile on your face. 

When you told him how great of a husband he would be someday, and an amazing dad to his nuggets.

Wait… you said nuggets, plural. He never told you he wanted kids, so how did you know? How did you even know he would love to call his children that particular word? Was it intuition? Was it a coincidence? 

His eyebrows knit together with complete and utter confusion as the water just keeps running over his head, and the realization hits him like a ton of bricks. 

The RV. His conversation with Nancy. Him telling Nancy he wants to be someone’s husband and have six nuggets. Him pouring his desires out, thinking that everyone else in the vehicle was sound asleep.

But you weren’t.

Fuck, you weren’t asleep. You heard him. You heard him talking to Nancy, and you– you think that he wants those things with her still. He should clarify it, shouldn’t he? He wants to tell you that it was the dread of the world ending talking for him. He wants to explain himself to you–

Explain himself? Why? You probably wouldn’t care who he has kids with, or who he marries. You would simply give him a thumbs up and a confused look on your face. But– He feels his stomach contracting with nerves, nerves he knows all too well. He doesn’t need to explain anything to you. He doesn’t need to clarify anything. 

But, he doesn’t want you to think he wants that family with Nancy Wheeler.

He really doesn’t.

And he is terrified that he doesn’t want you to misunderstand.

Absolutely fucking terrified.

And then, the realization, the surprise and the nerves turn into absolute guilt. He had also said a few things about you. Nancy told him that it’s sad you had to be included this way into the party, into their problems, but that you looked strong and determined after going into the upside down just one time.

And he replied with how much he desired you wouldn’t have gotten involved at all. It sounded harsh, it sounded vile and venomous… And it was intended that way, or at least that’s what he thought. 

Now, he realizes that he didn’t want you involved so you wouldn’t go through danger, but you did, you went through so much pain and suffering. Nancy was right, you were strong, and you didn’t second guess your actions when it meant saving someone. 

“Shit–” He jumped a bit when he felt the water turn cold, not realizing for how long he had been in his head, thinking, running through his thoughts and memories. He turned the water off and shook his head to get the excess of it out of his hair. 

He got out of the shower and grabbed a towel, a white one that had the smudge of a lipstick stain that never got off. Your lipstick. 

And just that mere stain made his heart jump and miss one beat, two beats, maybe three. Fuck… Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

He really wants you to know he doesn’t mean what he said in the RV.

To both of those things.

Especially the one about Nancy.

“Fuck me.”

♡

tagging friends and mutuals

@prettyboyeddiemunson @taintedcigs @mysticmunson @sherrylyn628 @munson-mjstan @maroon-cardigan @joekeerysmoles @munsonlore @ibellcipem @corrodedcorpses @agirlwholovesrockstars

#dwoht -- chapter fourteen #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington series #stranger things angst

[sorrowfulrosebud]

Cont of this

*Wails profusely at the idea of reader walking in on Katsuki and baby play fighting in the nursery*

==================================

The thick mahogany door separating your hall to your living room creaked loudly as you pushed it open before kicking off your shoes. You sigh in relief; you adored your friends, but by god could Mina and Denki talk.

“Katsuki? Keiko? I’m home my babies!” You shouted into the silence of your usually noisy home, before realising that Keiko could be down for a nap.

The delicious aromatic smell of Katsuki’s noodles filtered through the air and enticed you to your spotless kitchen. A small note was left on your kitchen island with Katsuki’s neat handwriting.

Hope you had a good time out with the losers, food’s in the fridge and Kei had his bottle. We’re probably upstairs in the nursery

- love, Ki

You smiled at his loving note, before prepping the food and tucking in.

==================================

After the delectable dish of noodles and vegetables, you meandered your way up the stairs to the large nursery you had for Keiko. You crept the white door open slowly, before tears started pricking at your eyes.

Katsuki was laying on the floor with your chunky baby resting on his chest with a tiny Dynamight costume on. Katsuki was making Keiko punch his face, revelling in his laughter.

“What the hell?! Why is this hero so damn strong?!” He pretended to be scared as he gently manoeuvred Keiko’s tiny fists to make contact with his cheeks. Keiko was giggling away, drooly mouth flashing his proud daddy his singular tooth. Katsuki let out little “pew pew” and “whoopash” noises at every point of contact.

“No more Mr Hero! I’m too weak, don’t punch me again!” He faked groans of pain as he repeatedly made Keiko punch his cheeks, before delivering the final blow.

Katsuki slumped his head to the side as he made convincing sounds of death.

“Blehhhhggg,” he moaned as he died. Keiko laughed loudly as he tried to plunge for his daddy. Katsuki let out his own laugh as he snuggled his baby closer to him.

“This certainly looks like naptime,” you laughed out loud as Katsuki jumped.

“Uhhh. He woke up?” He offered, embarrassed you saw him admit defeat for his son. You shook your head playfully as you approached your two heroes.

You picked Keiko up as he cooed in your arms.

“You did a wonderful job of beating your daddy up, Keiko,” you nuzzled your face into his slightly pink cheeks, earning a babble.

Katsuki smiled widely at his family before groaning at the way his legs had gone numb from the assault from his son. He joined your hug, swaying the three of you softly together. Katsuki pressed small kisses to each of you as Keiko burbled away. You nuzzled your face into Katsuki’s neck, smiling when you feel him smile back.

“I missed you both today,” you murmured. Katsuki continued to smile.

“We missed you too, didn’t we little guy?” He nudged Keiko, who yawned sleepily in response. He rubbed his eyes before nestling into you, breaths slowly deepening as you gave him a gentle goodnight kiss.

“Time for a real nap now, isn’t it sweetheart?” You murmured, giving your husband a pointed look, who only let out a breathy laugh.

“Ain’t my fault he’s a damn good hero.”

#bnha x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou fluff #bakugou x reader fluff #bakugou #domestic bakugou #just him. with his family. ISJRJRNNGNF #*spongebob voice* the gang’s all here. AUGH #Him being so soft and gentle with his baby boy I’m salivating

[peachesofteal]

The Lethe

An Ichor Veil masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 7.3k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. Greek mythology au, modern retelling. Reader is named Persephone but has no physical characteristics. Smut, M/M/F, loss of virginity. Praise kink. Breath play. Pain play. Feelings of fear, jealousy, and anxiety. Mention of abuse by reader's mother.

The next morning, you wake alone.

You lay alone too, dread swirling in the cosmos, a thick, uneasy tension swooping over the palace where you linger, the protracted creep of corroded hanging moss, a thick curtain of dying green.

Memory is sharp. It’s fickle. It has a hold on you, your mind, your body, and your legs shift restlessly in bed, thighs pressing together.

Cerberus snores on the rug in front of the fireplace, lean and lissome and stretched long.

They open their eyes as soon as your feet touch the floor, shaking off their stupor and trotting over to rest all three heads on top of your thigh.

Pet me.

How could you say no?

“I really have to use the bathroom.” You whisper after giving each ear a good scratch, stretching tall, bones and muscle all stringent, but not sore. Almost nothing feels tender, you realize, and when you inspect yourself in the bathroom mirror, there’s no evidence of last night.

No raw, punished skin.

No puncture wounds.

You’re relieved, the impending doom-like feeling that plagued you the moment you opened eyes lessens, and-

A small shard of disappointment settles in its place.

Did you desire to wear their mark? To have them on your skin, by choice?

Your back is an ugly crisscross of fine golden lines, all remnants of the Whip.

These, you did not choose. These, you do not wear proudly, or at all. You hide them. You’d rip them from your skin if you could. Pull them out from tip to tail, scratch yourself raw.

You’ve already tried. 

Your fingers find the faintest remnant of last night, a small dip in your skin the circumference of a tooth. Everything comes flooding back, the sting of your palm against the John’s cheek, the indulgent dig of the cuffs in your wrists.

They stole you. 

Do you care? 

You expect to feel more unsettled. More enraged, but it only trickles through like a summer’s spring, barely bubbling up through cracks in the earth. You feel betrayed by their thievery of you, but something else lurks beneath the surface, something soft and beautiful, threatening to drag you in with it.

It’s dangerous here, but not in the way you were expecting.

Maybe it is the separation from the wildest part of your being that has cooled your temperament, somewhat.

Only somewhat. 

After all, you did hit John in a fit of rage, did you not? 

A loud knock rattles the door. Cerberus whines.

“My lady.” A Naiad stands on the threshold of the room, your room, you suppose, her black clothes, nearly white hair both ethereally sleek, hands clasped in front of her waist.

“Um…”

“Your presence has been requested, if you are…” she pauses, delicately, jaw tilting with a shadow, eyes narrowing into slits. “Awake.” She sweeps over you, performing an inspection for something from head to toe, and you find yourself studying her ears, their needle pointed tips accentuated by such symmetrical bone structure, she nearly looks like a cat.

She regards you like one too. Aloof. Holier than thou.

Bitchy.

“I am.”

“Wonderful.” But it doesn’t feel wonderful, the word overflowing with acid. Who is this female? 

“I’m sorry, who…”

“I am Minthe, my lady.” Why is everyone calling you that? All the time? You frown.

“Like the plant?” Cerberus shifts at your side, rising on their haunches just so, and she glares at them.

“Yes, my lady. Like the… plant, as you say.” Her teeth shine into a smile, forced and uncomfortable.

Something is wrong here. 

“Will you be joining us, or shall I inform them you deign to continue resting?” Us? 

“No, I’m well rested, thank you.” She inclines her head, graceful movement elongating her already supple neck. You study her, cataloging her razor-sharp fingernails, polished heels, chin length bob. She seems like an assistant of sorts, heavy black book tucked under arm.

“Very well. I will wait for you here.”

“My Kings. The lady Persephone.” Gross. Minthe announces you, stepping to the side to allow you entrance from behind, the removal of her in your path revealing a large office, two dark stained wood desks with two very handsome gods seated behind them. Bookshelves blanket the walls, and in the middle of the room, a magic made map of the cosmos glows, gold and blue light dancing across the black marble floor. There’s a giant leather armchair in the corner, wide enough for two, and a soft blanket folded over the back. It’s cozy, homey, a welcome surprise.

Your body aches. Desire simmers in the bottom of the stomach, skin prickling with a shiver.

How is it two beings you hardly know are so capable of making you so crazy? 

“Darling.” John croons, rising from his chair. There’s a sharp intake of breath to your side, barely audible, stifled. “How did ye sleep?” He’s close now, close enough that you could reach out and touch him, if you were so bold.

A magnet draws you closer. 

A collar. A leash. 

Hades holding the end of it. 

“Fine, thank you.”

“That will be all, thank you Minthe.” Simon dismisses her, still focused on you. She steps away in silence, and when the door clicks closed- John is on you.

He presses close, arm snug at the small of your back, forehead dipping down to rest gently against yours.

“Sweet Persephone.” He murmurs, thumb tracing the apple of your cheek. “Are ye well?”

“Yes.” You breathe. You welcome his touch, this affection, and it feeds a sapling, roots trying to take hold, trying to survive. To grow. To bloom.

His lips lay above your brow, long kiss freezing into a slow moment, and Simon watches with a satisfied smile, a loving glance exchanged between the two as John pulls away. “Have ye eaten?”

“No, she, Mint, brought me right here.” He holds a laugh at bay. “Who is she, anyway?”

“Minthe was once our consort, now she works as an assistant of sorts.” Simon says the slowly, and the room darkens, shadows building in the corners, flooding the cracks and crevices of the bookshelves.

Well, that explains just about everything, then.

“Your consort.”

“Aye. But ye dinnae have to worry, we’ve not been with her in quite some time. We’ve been waitin’ for-“

“Johnny.” Simon stands, moving into your space. It’s only his name, and still so much more is communicated within those two syllables.

Waiting for what? 

“Would you like breakfast?” He’s smooth with the disruption, steering and redirecting the train of thought.

“We hoped ye would want to take breakfast in here, with us.” John explains softly, and you nod. A simple request.  

“Sure.” You pause, considering. “Could I…” Would they still have them? Is it rude to ask? You’re not quite sure how it works. Is there a kitchen?

“You can have whatever you like, darling.” Simon encourages.

“Portokalopita?” Johnny chuckles, tugging you a little closer, mouth to your temple.

“Of course.”

The orange cakes arrive with a fragrant pot of coffee and some Greek yogurt, slivered almonds on the side. Your usual breakfast. You blink, suspicious for a half second before remembering-

“Why were you watching me?” Simon tenses. “I mean, it’s obvious, now, that meeting John outside of Hebe’s was not coincidental, was it?”

“It was not.” You tuck your feet up into the chair, shifting on your side with a steaming cup in your lap. “We have been… curious about you.” Your blood runs cold. The marks on your back begin to sting, a phantom pain you know does not exist, but still plagues you. Hurts you.

“Curious.” You croak. “Why?”

“We have heard stories. It is rare that we find ourselves so… fascinated by one who dwells in Olympus. John and I, we felt… a desire, to learn what we could.” John smiles, turning fully to face you, reaching for one of your hands.

You do not give it. You’re uneasy, like there’s a direness lurking in the darkness of the room, waiting to pounce. It’s an overwhelming inclination of trepidation, of misanthropy… much like the rivers spilling from this land.

“So, you spied on me.”

“We did.”

“And… you don’t see an issue with that?”

“I… understand how this may be unsettling to you.” Unsettling? More like a set up? 

“I don’t…” You sip your coffee, trying to pick through a smattering of words. You must choose them carefully, you’ve come to realize, to get answers. “I don’t understand, why go to such great lengths? There are dozens of other goddesses, more beautiful, more composed, more worthy of your attention than… me.” You, Demeter’s daughter. Demeter’s failure. You, the goddess who rarely leaves her temple, the one who does not engage in socialite events or associate with the more powerful Golden ones in the city.

You, who talks to plants.

“I mean, look at Hebe, or Artemis, one of the Pleiades, they’re all-“

“No.” Simon cuts to the quick. “We do not care for other goddesses, sweet Persephone. We only care for you.” An undercurrent of power ripples, shuddering between the three of you. “Our affection, our care… is only true for you.”

“Me.” Because they do not know you. If they did, the affection would certainly wane. How long would it be, before Minthe was warming their bed once more? 

“You, darling. It’s why we brought you here. To know you, as you are. Not as your mother intended, or how chatter portrays.” You look between them, slow eyes finding solemn faces, dogmatic in their assurance. “We had hope you might… enjoy our company, as we believed we would enjoy yours.” John shifts. It’s a fractured movement, barely perceived, but unsettled, and he cocks his head afterwards, gaze thick and focused on you.

“I told ye, we’d never hurt ye.”

“I know.” You whisper. You believe it now, to an extent. A pool of guilt tugs you into its current, an apology bubbling up over your tongue. “I’m sorry… about… striking you, last night. It was unbecoming of me.”

“I know ye are.” He soothes, and Simon interjects.

“The next time you feel an overwhelming urge like that, you tell us. We’ll take care of you.” His smile drips with a predatory gleam, and you’re suddenly inside a memory, the feeling of ichor sliding over your skin, spilling down around your fluttering rim, his finger pushing inside your body where you’ve never been touched by another. His mouth, covered in it. Golden lifeblood smeared across his lips, John’s cum spilling down your throat, molten earth, burning you anew.

What started it all? The idea that they locked your magic away? That they took you? 

That they trapped you. 

“I felt…” You tap over your heart, signifying the part of you that’s missing, and he nods in acknowledgement.

“I understand. It’s a difficult thing, we’ve asked of you, and you’ve done so well.” Your hands tremble, fighting the urge to preen like a raven beneath the praise.

It encourages you. Urges you to talk, spill secrets, let go of weights holding you at the bottom of the sea, where you cannot breathe.

“My- my mother. She used to do something similar. When she felt like I was out of control. When I became… too much. It’s a familiar feeling.” They exchange a long glance, and then John kneels, a hand on your knee, the other stroking deft circles into your thigh.

“Persephone. The scars,” Your eyes slam shut. “on yer back. They were made with a magical object. Did Demeter do that?” He demands, and you inch away, trying to create space, trying to escape this- this conversation, this vivisection.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You whisper. “Please.” His eyes are so blue. Like the Aegean, a venetian, crystalline color that deepens when he frowns, his emotions worn so plainly for both you and Simon to see. He’s distressed, like he wants to scoop you up, carry you away. They’re both staring at you with… pity. “Do not pity me.” You snarl, hackles rising.

“It is not pity you see, darling.” Simon shakes his head. “We do not pity you, or your strength. The story of your temple is known far and wide, even to those down here. It is sadness that we feel. With you.” The lump in the back of your throat is thick, too thick, and it threatens to derail your composure.

You push past everything else. The assurance you could come to them, when you felt like you were going to explode, detonate across the world, when everything turns white and you need your pain, your pleasure.

You’re only here for a day longer. 

The rest of your breakfast is put aside, and you stand between the two with an open palm.

“Well, then. What’s on the agenda for my last day?”

There are many places in the Underworld that hold you captive, but Hecate’s piece of it, a forest of dew dropped trees with gnarled trunks and lavender flowers, vibrant mosses shuddering beneath your feet, a hollow thrumming with the wildest of magics, leaves you breathless. The goddess is just as striking, tall and elegant, deep black hair that swings at her hips, emerald eyes and pointed nose perfectly set in her face. Her skin glows, a sepia drenched harvest moon, and when she reaches for your hand, you swear you hear the barking of a dog.

“My lady.” She gives you a graceful squeeze before she releases and bows her head. “You are more lovely than the rumors credit.”

“Oh.” Your face heats. “Thank you.”

“The rumors say ye’re as fair as Aphrodite.” John teases, and your eyes go wide.

“Surely not.” You brush it off, but the tingle across your skin remains, flattery nestling in your heart. “Your home… is beautiful.” You try to give it back, deflect it upon her, and she watches you with knowing eyes.

“Thank you. It was born from me, as I’ve heard your temple was from you?”

“Yes.” She motions to a winding path that disappears into the thick of the trees, and you oblige, soaking in the sparkle of the wood. The magic is dense here, heavy, like water, flowing through all things, the roots, the leaves, the crows adorning the branches, following you from perch to perch. You don’t notice, when John and Simon start talking, asking Hecate a question about… something, too transfixed on the multitude of colors flourishing at the tops of the canopy, leaves and petals fanning out like a muted rainbow.

Again, you’re struck with a confusing consideration.

How is it the Underworld is capable of such life? 

Hecate’s piece of this realm is alive, lush and untamed, resonant magic oozing from every spiral and cell in the moss, in the bark, in the air. Amethyst leaves ranging in size from head to hand fall from the sky like the changing of seasons, and the entire hollow breathes with it, power pulsing in a light breeze all around you.

Even the crows are thriving, living things. Part magic, part bird.

You frown.

“Persephone?” Simon questions, gentle hand on your back. It’s warm, and firm, pulling you into the touch, butterflies in your belly slowly cracking their eyes opening, greeting the day with a flutter of wings.

“Sorry, it’s just… the crows, they’re… alive?” Hecate laughs.

“Yes, they live. They’re my own murder, traveling as I do, between the Underworld and Olympus.” She holds out a hand and an iridescent, onyx feathered companion lands gracefully in her palm, preening. “There are many corvids here, now. Magpies, jays, treepies. They’re supposed to stay confined to the hollow, but I suspect some of them have made friends in Asphodel Meadows.”

“Now? Were they not here before?”

“No birds lived in the Underworld, before Hecate’s residency.”

“Hades allowed me a home,” she smiles at them, gentle appreciation aglow on her face, and then turns back to you. “a gift in itself, and so, I give them one in return.”

“You are more than generous.” John says. He walks close, hand lax at his side, fingers occasionally grazing yours. The touch is hardly a moment, fleeting, but it burns you through, muscle, soul, and bone shivering in response.

“Hades is benevolent, though they’d never let Olympus know it.” She murmurs, raven black hair catching in the wind.

“I’m starting to see that.”

“This is the Lethe.” Simon gestures to the rushing river before you. It’s not a river of hopelessness, like the Acheron, but something else. Something different.

It’s a river of loss.

“What… what is it?”

“The Lethe is the river of oblivion. She takes memories from souls, freeing them from past torments, or pleasures.” John is gentle, grasping your elbow, keeping you close at his side. You don’t resist, sinking into the warmth of his body, letting his steady comfort guide you away from where you stood at the edge, entranced by the low rumble of the water, the melodic call echoing from the rocks below.

“Or it serves as a punishment.” Simon warns at your back. The chorus rises, song reverberating, and you tip forward, away from John, straining to hear who it calls, the repeated exhalation of your own name.

“Persephone.” He warns, heavy magic blanketing the ground, cypress and white poplar drifting on the breeze, thick with the weight of his magic. “If the Lethe were to take you, there would be no returning to Olympus, or your memories. She is a power even we do not control.” She.

“She? What do you mean?”

“She was, is, a goddess in her own right.” Your eyes widen, the river hissing and crooning to you, desperate vibrato just on the cusp of her song, a sound sharper than a banshee’s wail. “Of all the rivers in the Underworld, she is the one to be feared. We can free a soul from the Acheron, or the Pyriphlegethon, we can forbid a crossing of the Styx, but we cannot return memories taken by the Lethe.” Simon draws you away, arm around your waist. “Come.”

John drags you back to the meadow.

He cradles you in his arms, opposite Simon, who sits silently, eyes half lidded, reclined on his elbows.

“Do ye like it here?”

“It’s beautiful.” You trace the fragile petals, white velvet smooth and soft, canary yellow pistils shimmering in the afternoon sun. “I love narcissus.” Simon’s mouth quirks to the side, turbulent sea settling after a storm when you look his way, and John tucks your back into his chest, heavy arm across your shoulders.

“The Underworld agrees with you. It is not every day the Narcissus sing for a soul.” His mouth is on your cheek. You press, pushing skin between teeth, and he obliges with a nibble, not enough to sting, but with enough pressure you feel the edge of his incisors, vicious points of his canines.

“It’s… not what I expected.” This is easy to concede. Easy to close your eyes and slip away in the web of them, their hold, their touch. Easy to pretend they didn’t steal you outright, they haven’t locked your magic away, they haven’t taken you from your only home.

“Would ye come back? To visit with us?” Your eyes are still closed, and you hold them there, fingers sliding through the lithe growth of grass, stroking across stems and petals, feeling for the pulse of their power, the magical force of nature existing the same in a tiny blade of greenery, as it does in every fiber of your goddess hood.

“Yes, I think I would.”

They lay you down in a crux of a hill, legs spread upon a bed of Narcissus, fragile blooms crushed beneath sacred weight, a cacophony of power joining together.

Your mouths meet, again and again, limbs and tongues and teeth joining together in a rapturous haze, a firestorm brewing inside you, a swell of power so strong you can feel it tearing at your skin, glorious and brazen, clawing at the cage. It is wild in your heart, in your mind, and only burning brighter as Simon tugs you close, a hand over your heart, his mouth on your breast, teeth grazing your nipple atop muslin, an insatiable god devouring at a mystical altar.

When he bites down, your legs fall wide, and John kneels in prayer.

There are many names for it, you know, but in this moment, it’s as if time is old, a god’s back bowed for you, his mouth on your cunt, sacrosanct promises running free like the rivers of this land, like the spring bubbling up from the depths of your temple, pulled from the land like John pulls pleasure from you.

Ichor runs. It paints you in gold, drips from Simon’s mouth and between your legs, mixing with the slick and spit swirled by Johnny’s tongue, the cusp of a cliff’s edge growing closer and closer-

But not close enough.

A gilded hand fits your throat, a collar made of divinity, and he squeezes, enough to make your vision spot, fingers digging into the dirt and roots and stems of flowers long crushed. John does not relent, only pushes you farther and farther against the edge, sanctifying the bond stitching between the three of you each breath you draw, the spool of Fate spinning long woven threads stretching to the end and beginning of time, knitting you into the patchwork of their lives, their eternal existence.

Their goddess. 

Your Hades.

“Come, Persephone. Come for us.” Light explodes, forcing your eyes shut, and you tremble between them, crying out their names in near hysteria, celestial light bleeding from your skin like a star in the sky.

John gasps.

Simon tips his chin to the sky, and laughs.

Their room is quiet. Dark in the daylight, an empty burrow dug by a fox, pitch black emptiness as far as one can see.

“I’ve never…”

“We know.”

They hold you like treasure, like glass. Gentle words and touch, John cradles you in the cove of his body, magic zinging across your skin, sparks flying in the room.

Simon kisses the inside of your knee, arranging you carefully between John’s spread legs. He’s hard at your back, heavy cock throbbing hot on your skin, but he only grabs your hand to hold it when you reach for him, tucking you gently back into his cradle with his lips on your neck.

Is this what it feels like? Love?  

“What do you want darling?”

“You. Both of you.” Simon, aglow in the flickering fire light, smiles at you and John, pride and glory, divinity still fresh between his teeth.

“Let us care you for tonight.”

You nod, and clothes vanish. John’s cock weeps in the cleft of your ass, his body trembling with effort to hold himself still, and you turn your face to his, letting him work his tongue into your mouth as Simon stretches you a finger, tiny explosions of pleasure imploding with each stroke.

Hands, teeth, tongue- a tangled mess of divinity.

Powerful gods, together mightier than Zeus, worshipping between your legs, glory abound in the sound of your moans. Simon gives you more, languid touch turning fevered, adding another finger to your soaked entrance, and you gasp, spine quivering in pleasure.

The gods kiss. Simon cups John’s cheek, holding him steady, exploring, deep and true. You can only watch, mouth ajar, taking in every lavish touch exchanged, Simon’s bicep flexing as he pumps John’s cock, a crease in his eyebrows when there’s a huff and moan.

“Darling.” Simon murmurs, thumb and forefinger holding your chin. John presses his lips to your neck again, nipping and sucking your skin, fingers ghosting over your belly and breasts. It makes you squirm, insatiable hunger rising in your throat, in your soul, and you yearn for them, for this, for it to culminate and flower.

Bloom. 

“Please.”

“Ye dinnae need to ask.” John hums, delicately lifting one of your knees, exposing you like a spring blossom. “Look at ye, already desperate for him.” He strums through the wet mess between your legs, fingertips lifting to his mouth, lashes fluttering as he licks.

You want to correct him. Want to tell him it’s not only for Simon, but for him too. That everything is for both, a balance of scales, pain and pleasure and passion all revolving around the two of them, with you in orbit.

But your words fail, and John looks at you with eyes full of stars, endless night dotted in endless nova, like you’re the one being orbited, being loved, being worshipped on consecrated ground.

“You give us a great gift, little goddess.” Simon’s palm rests on your thigh, thick, swollen cock leaking against your skin. He’s big, bigger than you’re sure will be comfortable, a little bit of fear starting to pique as you shift, and he leans, an elbow near your shoulder, face above yours, level with John’s. Everything slows, Olympus stopped in its tracks, the Underworld holding its breath, and the three of you breathe, magic tugging and tearing at your souls, dragging you closer to the cusp of something unknown.

You can feel it. 

“We’ll go slow.” He strokes your cheek. “You’ll tell me if it’s too much, yes?”

“Yes.” There’s a softness in him, intimidating edges all worn gentle, and his eyes are heavy, focused as he pushes into your body, fire and flood making your fingers dig into John’s thigh.

It burns.

It hurts.

It’s good.

The agony is decadence, sharp tinged pain morphing into fiery pleasure, burning in your soul and your veins. You moan, and John presses his thumb to your tongue, holding your jaw firm as Simon begins to move, carefully working you open with gentle strokes, gritted restraint clear in his jaw.

“F-fuck.” You hiss around the digit in your mouth, and they both watch, observing, waiting for a safe word or a warning sign.

Nothing comes.

Only pain.

Only pleasure.

“More.” You croak, and Simon noses your cheek, lips drawing a line up Johnny’s forearm as he strokes, hips swinging to meet yours, body trying to fold in half when he seats himself so deep you swear you can feel him in your belly. “Oh gods.” Your eyes roll back in your head.

You’re on fire. Burning in the pits of Tartarus, crammed between the gods of death, exalted through mounting pleasure and pain, twisted together in veneration.

Simon shoves deeper, up through your cunt to your throat, through your magic and out your mouth, insanity leaking from your lips like you drip around his cock. It’s obscene, the way he batters into his body, the lap of John’s tongue in your mouth, his finger against your clit, how you light up beneath them like a supernova.

“There it is.” Simon’s eyes glow, observing and inspecting, watching the way you take his cock, celestial light spilling from your pores. You cling to them, shiny like a pearl, iridescent and wild, groaning with each thrust.

They split you open, crack your very soul wide, broken cypress beneath an axe.

It’s an unrelenting pace, an lewd show of slick and tears and sweat- ichor that runs down your throat when John pinches your clit, inside of your cheek crunching between your molars like a meal.

“Ahh, please- please.” You’re rambling. Begging.

More. More. More. 

“Sweet little thing.” Simon spits, cadence transforming into something slow, the subtle rock of a boat on the sea, nudged up against your cervix. “Perfect little pussy, made for your gods.” Plural. Like they’re both housed in one, experiencing together, breathing and fucking and biting, as one.

John pushes his nose under your jaw, iron grip lashed across your waist, holding you steady, keeping you in place over the reverberation in your chest of screams and moans, noises unlike a goddess and more like an animal, a tiger, a bird-

Simon slams into you. The pain is shocking, and you scramble, reaching for purchase, clinging to him, to John, explosion of stars illuminating your vision.

When he rains a hand down across your flank, your eyes roll back, slipping beneath the swell of pleasure and pain, a war raging between the two.

“Good girl-“ Simon grits, and you pulse around him, greedily, squeezing with another strike against your flesh, fingers dug into your hip. There’s a glimmer of darkness in the room, ebbing cruelty lingering in the corners, watching in wait, bidings its time, knowing it needs the right moment, the perfect crescendo in order to strike.

“Look a’ him.” John marvels. “Makin’ a mess of ye.”  You blink up at them both, lashes webbed with tears. They’re beautiful, etched from marble, perfectly cast in the image of ultimate power, dark and decadent, decay and hope, sculpted together.

They will break you. 

“Please-“ the plea breaks off in a gasp.

“We know, darling. We know.” John soothes, syrupy and smooth, a hand running over your ass with another whip of his fingers. He probes at your rim, lightly testing before pushing in, stretching, exploring, and you keen, curling around them, muscles burning red like hot coals. It sears. It nearly pushes you over the edge.

You want to fall with them, into them. You want them to take everything, to give you pain and pleasure until you’re not sure who or where you are, remake you in the image of these emotions, this wildness flowing between the three of you.

John pushes a second finger in beside his first, and you see stars. Three become one, bursting into light and bathing the room, touching over the bed and walls and gods, casting opalescence across their faces.

“Fuck!” you gasp, and Simon’s lips curve on your skin, voice low and rough when he speaks.

“Ours.” He vows, chokes, guttural. “Our goddess." He fucks you deep, relentlessly, firm hand gripping you flesh. "You can take it, show us your light.” He’s lost himself in you, and you in them, crying out as they throw you over the precipice. “Come, darling.” It takes no urging. You’re already there, praise and agony and explosions of nerves imploding, throwing you into an orgasm that has your legs locking in place around Simon, your fingers tangling in John’s hair.

You become light. Divine incarnate. Celestial dawn, touching the peaks of existence for the first time. It flows and flows from you, overpowers your senses, drowns you in a sea of exhalation.

Simon shouts something. His mouth finds yours, but you’re lost in the waves of your own pleasure, still holding tight to both, anchoring yourself through the erratic thrusts of Simon’s body, his hips jerking as he fills you with his own gift, a touch of divinity lodged where he ends and you begin, his hand wrapped around John’s cock and stroking until he’s spilling. Simon’s tongue on yours, on John’s, open mouths and wet faces bent together to make one, hallowed, consecrated temple, the planes of your bodies twisted together in the depths of the Underworld.

Your light shines and shines until you think your heart may give out.

Maybe it does. Maybe it bursts into stardust. Maybe it becomes theirs.

“Will ye have dinner with us? A last meal?” John presses a kiss to your shoulder, decadent and sweet. You’d forgotten about your need to leave, forgotten about Olympus, and the reality is somber. Still in their arms, and you already long for them, mourn them, dread the lugubrious return to your own realm, where your life awaits.

“The door.” You murmur, fingertips tracing over Simon’s chest, the hallowed ground where your head lays, where you listen to the steady thump of his heart. “Will you show me?”

“After dinner. Please.” John murmurs it into your skin, and though it’s a shattered promise waiting in the wings, there is nothing in you deciding to protest or say no, not when he tugs you free, rolling you onto your back so Simon can tuck you into his arms. “After dinner, we’ll show you.”

He spreads your legs, stroking a finger through the seam of your cunt, watching lazily with heavy lids as you whimper.

An offering he will give. 

An offering you will receive. 

“After dinner, then.”

You wake to an empty bed, much like this morning.

“John? Simon?” The sheets are soft against your skin, but there’s bitterness in the air, magic like death lingering in the room.  

It feels like rot.

The door is ajar, barely. It allows light to spill in across black marble, the faint, sharpened pitch of an argument echoing down the hall.

You sit up.

What’s happening? 

There’s a wine-red robe draped over the edge of the bed, and you don it, quickly, quietly slipping down the onyx halls, straining to listen. 

“The Fates decided, and they chose benevolently. We are honored by such a gift.” The Fates decided what? There’s a strangled, indignant laugh. A female’s.  

Power snaps, rough and wild.

“You cannot possibly mean to make this… this goddess of spring your Queen.” What? Acid brews in the pit of your stomach, swirling together and forcing you forward, desperation on the balls of your feet. Is that Minthe? Is she talking about you?

“Persephone is to be our wife; ye will speak of her with respect or not at all.” John snaps. You’re what?! 

“We have waited, and would wait centuries more, to receive her. Her presence brings an eternal season, to us, to all who would love her, here in the Underworld.”

“But you do not truly care for her.” You tremble. A sea devours you, pulls you beyond the black water, down into the trenches, far deeper than anyone ever knew existed. There, it tosses you side to side, virulent rage and sorrow rising beneath your feet, pushing you back up to where you break the surface.

And break free.

The agony in your heart shatters the strongest magic, draws your own power back into yourself, twists it together to become something more, something wicked, something villainous.

Ungovernable Persephone. 

“It is more than care. It is devotion, an all-consuming passion. One you would not understand.”

“But she’s a freak! A shut in li-“ Minthe’s words do not continue. They flail in her throat, the same way her soul does as you appear around the corner and twist it, making it malleable, ripping and tearing until it grows anew, sprouting with vigor into a new form.

The ground shakes. John shouts something at you, but you’re far past reason, far past explanation, and now there is only Demeter’s vengeful daughter, a wicked soul.

Rotten to the core.

Your magic swells. The palace trembles, and you feel the flow of life, Hecate’s grotto, the souls, Asphodel meadows. Every bloom and blossom cry out with you, and you scream your rage into a terrible power, one with thorns and vitriol. They surge together, and you draw from them like drinking from a river, pulling and pulling until you can no longer see, or hear, lost in the wind, the bliss of your wicked soul, your weaponized magic.

“Persephone.” A gentle voice calls, Hands cradle your face, a thumb smoothing your brow. “She cannot hurt you, Persephone. Stop this. Now.” A demand, sweeter than primrose and lily, drips like nectar against the will of your rage. “It’s alright. There is nothing to fear.” He murmurs, empyreal restraints tightening at your wrists, harnessing your power, redirecting it into the ether, commanding it still and steady.  

When your vision clears, it’s horror you face.

Horror of your own doing.

You stumble away, clutching the robe to your chest, mouth agape.

On the floor between you and the Kings of the Underworld, is a small mint plant. It sprouts from a tiny clump of dirt, timid and frail.

It harbors a soul.

It harbors your wrath.

You are a monster. 

“No, darling-“ John tries to reach for you, but Simon stops him, an arm out, catching him at the waist. There is sadness on one face, aloof calm on another.

Are these really the gods you gave yourself to? The ones you believed would care for you? 

You are a fool. 

You turn for the door and run.

You’re sprinting towards a river.

In the dark, you can’t be sure which it is. You’re not sure of anything, in these moments, these shattered clips that fracture your heart, the confusion that ricochets inside your brain, a silver pinball bouncing off walls with lights and noises exploding in the silence. Everything competes with the rush of a river, roaring swell crashing against rock, humming alive in the dead of night.

Their wife. 

They brought you here to be their wife. 

You laugh out loud to the cool, crisp air.

A fool.

Fate’s tool. 

They weren’t interested in you. You aren’t special. You’re only a sanctimonious fortune from the The Moirai. Something promised. Something they feel you deserve.

Something you have no choice in, again.

But would you choose it? 

Simon’s words ring in your ears.

“Persephone is to be our wife; you will speak of her with respect or not at all.” 

“We have waited, and would wait centuries more,”

“It is more than care. It is devotion, an all-consuming passion. One you would not understand.” 

The Fates. 

The Fates decided. 

The Fates decided to honor them… with a gift. 

A gift.

You laugh again. It catches, hysterically, building and building into an explosion, a wild streak of pain taking root in your heart, and beneath your feet, Narcissus blooms. Even at a full sprint, the rage in your voice is palpable, and it breaks, cracking your chest wide with a sob.

They were never going to let you go. 

They do not care for you. They only care for what has been bestowed to them. Their gift. 

Not you. Not Persephone. 

“Persephone!” A shout in the distance echoes over the valley, and only urges you faster, feet flying through a meadow. No flowers grace your shins, only grey grass, silvered in the moonlight.

Another voice calls to you.

The promise of oblivion. Of freedom. Memories laid to waste in her path, scars and agony and heartbreak all put to rest, buried beneath a mountain built of abeyance, weightless in the face of true nirvana.

Freedom.

Freedom from this truth, this betrayal. Freedom from your own stupidity, your foolishness washed away, soul wiped clean. Freedom, from the crack of your mother’s Whip, a magical object sculpted from the breadth of her power, built to hurt only you, for eternity.

You stand at the water’s edge. She’s too strong, and you cannot pull away, feet glued to the riverbank, fixed upon the rage of her waters, the power behind the swell.

Would it be so terrible? 

You see Hebe. Melia. Nell. Their light, their laughter. The way their smiles sculpt their faces, how their power tastes when it infects the air. Your friends, forgotten.

But still she calls. She lashes her power to your own, strips of bark laid against your soul, binding you to her, tugging you closer and closer to the water.

You dig in your heels. The cacophony thunders, drowning everything else out, the scream of your name, the haunting in your heart.

You fight.

You fall.

Simon has never felt such terror.

Ichor turns cold in his chest, fear and panic rising into a tidal wave, an epic monster of emotion, filling his lungs with leaded salt water, choking out his last breath.

“Simon!” John shouts. He pushes his power into the river, cutting the current effectively in half, slowing its pace to a trickle. It will be enough, to find you.

It won’t be enough to save you.

Simon stands motionless. He cannot see anything, except the memory of your fall. Slipping into the river, disappearing beneath the water that will take your mind, your memories. The intricate pieces that make you, you.

He does not deny he had considered it. Allowed it to darken his mind, disrupt his intentions. He discussed it at length even. Argued with Johnny about bathing you in the water, bringing it in through a spring, disguising it as something it was not. Something safe.

“If she bathes in the Lethe, we will be all she has ever known, Johnny. She will no longer hold the pain, the torment from her mother’s hand, she will not carry the grief, the guilt of leaving Olympus behind. She will be ours. Wholly.” 

“Ye’re talking about erasing who she is. The things that make her ours. Without them… what is she? An empty soul. A husk. Ye know what they’re like after they bathe in the Lethe. Ye cannae possibly want that for our wife.” 

Johnny was right, of course. A million little pieces made up the goddess that you were, and Simon was a selfish being. He wanted every single one.

But now… 

Johnny finds you in the bend of the river, limp and unmoving.

You’re almost gone. Simon knows it, can see it, can taste it. He can hear the realm, weeping for you. Your meadow, covered in Narcissus, each flower’s face wet with tears for you.

“Open yer eyes, Persephone.” John shakes you roughly, grip tight with panic, and then cradles your head to his chest like a babe, rocking back and forth. “Come on, little goddess. I’m here, we’re right here. We’ve got ye.” You’re silent. Near death, eyes and skin a thin membrane, everything washed away in the Lethe.

You’re gone. They’ve lost you. 

Your heart slows. Your breathing stutters.

He’s been here before. He knows this feeling all too well. The frightening emptiness that even he, Hades, cannot combat.

“Simon.” John snaps. His hand hovers over your diaphragm, more magic, more power releasing into your body, filling you with all that he can give, all that you will take.

They’ve lost you. Before they even had a chance. 

Too proud. Too arrogant. A monster on a throne. 

He caused this. 

“She is not gone, Simon. Help me.” John hisses, tenacious and hopeful. Strong. Simon’s compass in the dark. The brightest star in his sky. Forever buoyant.

Unstoppable John MacTavish. 

Ungovernable Persephone. 

And… him. 

Your skin is cold, ice, and you’re so delicate in John’s arms, so broken, that Simon considers falling into the Lethe himself, just for a moment. “We need to get her inside.” John rocks you, cooing above your ear, trying to soothe the radiating distress, the rattle of your chest. “Sh-sh-shhh. Ye’re safe. We’ve got ye.”

Simon tugs all his power around you and Johnny like a jacket, a blanket tucked snug on your shoulders. It warms you, easing the shivering and jerking, and he holds it there, unleashing the untouched depths of his power, of Johnny’s, of this realm, forcing it into your soul the only way he knows how.

An idea blossoms in his heart. One born of midnight flower, bat orchid and hellebore, black dahlia and elderberry. Framed by the flowering vines that cover the outside of your chambers.

It’s an idea blooming from the very essence of your magic, your goddess-hood.

It’s reactionary. It’s wicked.

Rebirth. 

Split your soul, and theirs, again. Merge their power, and yours. 

Wed you. 

“Johnny.” He whispers. He steps closer, hovering, a hand strong on the back of his neck, the other cupping your cheek.

“We shouldnae.” He shakes his head. “I cannae do it.”

“We must.”

“She will ne’er forgive us.” He cradles you tighter, almost defensively. You moan, the sound wretched and pained, and Johnny pales.

“The Lethe has taken her from us. She is fading, I know you can feel it.” Johnny slams his eyes shut, brow quivering. “Look at me.”

“Si.”

“This is our only option.” For every protest, he has an answer. For every reason why not, he provides an alternative. It snakes forward, through John’s rebuttal, through the time it takes for Simon to pull both him and you into his arms, on the banks of the Lethe in one moment, in the din of their bedroom another.

“She might remember, one day.” John lays you on their bed, the rasp of your lungs only increasing with each moment. “Her magic is strong.”

“Then we will beg for forgiveness and hope her vengeful spirit gentles.”

#peaches writes #AIV #ghoap x reader #ghost x soap x reader #ghost x reader x soap #simon riley #john mactavish #john soap mactavish #john mactavish x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #soap x reader #simon ghost riley

[dr3c0mix]

What if i want to bite them (all characters), like. Its love bites <3 like not hard enough to bleed hut enough to leave a mark for a while. Like i love them so much i just cant help it! I would kiss the bite marks after in hopes to make them not hurt as much <3

-🩷

Darling Gives Them Love Bites <333

My OCs x GN! Reader

Heres a short post from an old request as a little snack before the yan gang!!

CW: biting ofc, nsfw jumpscares sprinkled in, tooth decaying fluff

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Adrian is a bit confused and weirded out at first, like why are you biting thats gross youre gross wait why are you stopping you have to bite his other shoulder or else its not symmetrical and itll feel weird come back !!

he needs to get used to it gradually, but once it gets to the point you leave marks on his skin, he's asking for a lil bite every time you two say goodbye so he can have a memento of you

he cums in his pants if you lick the bite oh my god please do it again he begs of you

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Brandon thinks it's a game and bites you back, picking you up and throwing you up in the air. You activated some kind of trigger in him that made him go full excited golden retriever.

He bites you back, kissing the area over and over again as revenge

He probably bites more than you to be honest, he's always wanted to bite but held back in case you were uncomfy with it, but now that he knows you're cool with it he's going ham.

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Valeth is cooing over you, little duckling bites!! so cute!!!

He praises your bite marks, pointing out the parts that hurt saying things like "If you tried, you could definitely break skin! Good job my duckling!"

Thinks your little teeth are cute, especially your canines, he loves comparing it to his tusks.

He allows, no, encourages to let you nibble on his hand or arm

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The horde doesnt let you, kisses are ok, but biting ? no no no

not because they dont like it, they just dont want you putting your mouth on their literally rotten skin

plus they associate biting with eat so thats a bit of a problem

but my oh my they love kisses, give them a bit and maybe just maybe theyd let you nibble a little bit.

dont let them do it back to you especially ribs, they have super sharp teeth that can break bone if they wanted

but like you might be into that so idk man

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Wolfie thinks youre being aggressive before you assure him its how you express love, then he starts to do it back or lick you.

It's more of him casually putting a part of your body in his mouth protectively, he doesnt wanna hurt his mate ;-;

he still prefers licks and cuddles tho, anything that involves cuddles are ok for him!!

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Doriks cummin buckets im sorry

are you marking him as yours ? please do it some more please! maybe on his ear? arm? dick? chest?

hes all yours !!!

he offers to bite you back, itll eventually turn into very intense sex that ends with the both of you covered head to toe in bite marks

he wants round 2

use it as a reward and hes doing whatever you ask with the speed of a sports car

appears right next to you, neck exposed, waiting eagerly for another bite

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kalva is confused but laughs and bites you back, its a little painful because of the beak but he tries his best to be gentle.

he sees it as you trying to preen him and swoons over your 'attempt'

he preens you in order to teach how its really done! its mostly just an excuse to love on you <3

hes very ticklish so expect a flurry of giddly hoots and chirps from him whenever you nibble on him

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jasper is crying sobbing rolling on the floor rn

BITE HIM ON THE BECK PLEASE BITE HIM ON THE N-

he wants to roleplay with you being a vampire and him being your mortal soulmate

lil guy a bit freaky like that <3

moans so loud when you bite him, he has to apologize

euheheh eghghhh hes so crazy for you and your love bites

doesn't wanna bite back because skin on teeth is not a good sensation for him, but he'll cover your face in kisses to return the favor

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The vampires are cooing, swooning, absolutely simping for you

our little mortal is biting us so cute soc ute!!!!

get ready for never ending teasing and kissing

they point out the marks you leave and talk about how much better it would be if you were a vampire like them!

they fake terror over your bites, oh nooo a cute little human is biting me !! so so spooky !!

please let them bite you back

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Baron is short circuiting

ohmy oh oh my oh yomhyo-

thank you.

he has to process what just happened for a bit

tries to forget about it but he cant help but want another one when he gets a glimpse of your teeth when you talk or smile at him

stays up and imagines your mouth all over his skin leaving teeth marks everywhere

stayed up that night pumping his cock when he remembers you biting your lip that one time

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Caspian makes a big deal out of it

hes literally morticia in the addams family movie

last night you were unhinged, you were like some desperate howling demon, you frightened me

do it again

no please were are you going do it again!!!

"misbehaves" so you can bite him again as punishment

oops! i splashed you with water! you might have to bite me again~

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Hallow is yanking his fabric back and scolds you, what if you choked? he'd be worried sick!

gets you a chew fidget instead

doesnt quite understand love bites

please explain to him why eating him means you love him

maybe its because you think hes delicious? awwee thank you! youre delicious too i suppose !

coos over you as he holds you close, thank you for the bite honeypie!!

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Ashvan is squealing over how cute it was!!

blushes whenever you do, like very very flustered, his eyes might be covered by soft fur but you can almost see the redness on his face

his ears flatten as he tries to calm his frantically wagging tail

he gets much shyer whenever you smile at him or when you bite into your food during meals

he has to timidly ask for another bite with his index fingers touching together

please give him more biteys!!

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Axel tells you to bite harder

try it! hes tough! lets see how strong that jaw of yours is!

*frantically hiding his growing erection*

calls you little kitten or..rat

teases you by poking at your mouth with his finger to get you to bite

he loves it, he thinks its the cutest thing whenever you do it, especially when youre just subconsciously nibbling on him as if he was a chew toy

he makes sure his hands are always washed for you, no more touching dirty stuff carelessly, he gotta take care of himself for you!!

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King Alistair is pushing you away and coldly telling you no, but once you two are alone in your shared chambers, away from prying eyes, he softly tells you to continue

of course he loves you, he wants you to be free to express yourself, but please dont do it when people are watching

he has a reputation to uphold! not because he's shy and insecure about showing pda in public or anything...

bites back, definitely bites back!! out of all the ocs i think he bites the most next to Brandon

loves playing predator and prey whenever you two are fooling around together, if he ever leaves marks, hes kissing them softly to let you know he means no harm, he just got a bit carried away because youre just so sweet~!

if you leave marks, hes covering it up in his clothes, but occasionally he heads to he mirror, pulls away the fabric covering your lovebite, and smiles

argaragrgagrggrgargagrg

#yandere #yandere x gn reader #male yandere #oc yandere #yandere x male reader #tw yandere #yandere male #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere monster #yandere writing #soft yandere #werewolf x reader #x reader #fem reader #female reader #gender neutral reader #x female reader #male reader #bully x reader #werewolf x human #demon x human #monster x human #teratophillia #terat0philliac #terato #oc x reader #clown husbandry #clown oc #monster

[moneyndior]

୧ ׅ𖥔you’ll never find nobody better than me.⋄ 𓍯

…IN WHICH; i have loser!luke x reader thoughts

tags/warnings: fem!reader, tooth rotting fluff, reader says something slightly suggestive twice at the end, small creepy comments mention, teasing!reader, whipped!luke, hints at aphrodite!reader, hints at reader being popular, separate blurbs/headcanons, LONG‼️

ೃauthor notes⁀➷: do not expect this to be coherent lmfao i just woke up from a 4 hour nap and had ideas. also shout out to artemis for telling me to write this ily oomf

—

—loser!Luke absolutely looks over to you before answering a question for your reassurance.

“can you help me, luke?” a younger hepaestus kid asked. you and luke finally had alone time—away from your friends and away from his siblings. a huff left your lips as you crossed your arms, a sassy expression sure, but that comes naturally to you.

luke opened his mouth, ready to agree. it was his calling, to keep up the golden child reputation he had at camp. but for some reason, he hesitated. luke’s eyes shifted toward yours, back to the kid, then back to you. like he was asking you if he could go—like all his free will was thrown out the window.

as much as you’d like to preach that you didn’t like it—that you’d much rather luke be his own person—you couldn’t. a snicker left your throat as you nodded. luke’s eyes shinned with appreciation, a small smile on his face as he turned his attention to the kid.

“yeah, sure. c’mon.” luke mumbled before kissing you on the cheek, following the kid as the 12 year old frantically explained the situation.

—loser!Luke who gets weak in the knees whenever you noticed him. even if you two just made eye contact.

“it’s getting to be painful to watch you looking at her, dude.” chris said from beside luke. they both watched as your sisters braided your hair. one put a flower in your hair, making luke’s heart race a little faster. the flower on your ear made you look even prettier. it’s no surprise every other guy at camp is fawning over you.

“will you shut up?” luke asked, his face scrunched up as he diverted his attention away from you for only a split second to look over to his friend. “it’s not that bad.”

all luke got in response was silence. he shifted his weight left to right, rolling his shoulders with his arms crossed. he waited very impatiently for chris to answer.

“did you come to your senses yet? is the realization hitting now?” his friend asked, eyebrows raised. he spoke with a chuckle and a mischievous look in his eyes. luke clenched his jaw as he blinked, looking away from him.

“look, she isn’t busy. she probably thinks you’re a creepy stalker.” chris added, rubbing salt onto the wound. maybe now realization would hit luke. and it did. hard.

he could be ruining his chances with you because he’s too much of a loser to muster up the courage to even say hi! goddamnit—what kind of demi-god is he?

chris nudged the curly haired boy before quickly pointing in your direction. luke followed his finger before your eyes locked with his.

he felt his knees slightly buckle, being the first out of the two of you to break eye contact. ‘shit,’ was the only think echoing in his mind. ‘way to go, luke. go on you for looking like the biggest loser in front of y/n. awesome.’ he thought, rubbing the back of his neck as he quickly fled the scene.

“he’s cute.” “who? luke? y’know—he’s like, totally in love with you, y/n.” “i know.”

—loser!Luke who takes the title of ‘y/n’s boyfriend.’ like seriously….he takes real pride in it.

“you’re y/n’s boyfriend, right?” damn fuckin’ right he is. forget luke castellan—that’s boring. y/n’s boyfriend has a much better ring to it. he’s yours before he’s human.

he felt a weird sense of pride wash over him whenever another camper asked him that. it doesn’t matter if he’s asked it once, twice, or even a thousand times. luke’ll always get a grin on his face as he nods.

getting a question like that just meant he gets to brag about how he’s dating the prettiest girl at camp—the prettiest girl to ever walk this planet.

“yeah. y’know it’s actually our anniversary soon and i was wondering-“ and there he goes, on another tangent about his plans to surprise you. because he only wants the best for you. blah, blah, blah. luke’s just so whipped it makes everyone sick.

percy literally fake gags anytime luke finishes a rant about how pretty you looked last night at the campfire and how gorgeous your eyes were then.

—loser!Luke who took one week and three days to finally talk to you.

he felt his sibling shove him in your direction when his back was turned, causing him to stumble toward you. luke’s head snapped back toward them, watching them laugh with a few other hermes kids.

“you alright?” your voice sounded sweet like honey to him. it wasn’t rough, it was possibly the smoothest, nicest voice he’d ever heard. and luke has spoken to a lot of people.

he tripped over his feet as he tried to straighten his back, rolling his shoulders before crossing his arms. luke cleared his throat, nodding. “yeah. ‘m alright.”

a giggle left your throat at his reaction. out of all the guys that you’ve flirted with—luke stuck out for some reason. maybe it was because he was genuinely flustered at the sight of you. that’s different than the usual corny pickup lines or the way-too-intimate complimenting.

“luke, right? it’s nice to finally put a face on a name.” you said, a chuckle in your voice as you smiled. your smile was so much brighter up close. luke was about to answer, until his words finally processed in his head.

you knew his name. you know who he was before this. did you hear good things about him? bad things? did you hear that he was the best swordsman here? did that impress you?

“uh, yeah. it’s nice to meet you too.” he managed to get out, his voice coming out a little quieter than he’d like.

“i love your hair, by the way.” you complimented him like it was nothing—like he wasn’t about to make it his whole personality. did you even know the hold you have on him?

“oh, thank you.” “you’re welcome.”

luke was ready to say something about your eyes, until your sibling cut him off.

“i have got to steal y/n. i am so sorry, luke!” “oh. that’s alright.”

it wasn’t alright, though. he wanted to keep talking to you—having your full attention on him was better than anything. luke just sighed before speaking to you once more, hoping to leave an impression.

“i’ll see you later, hopefully.”

“yeah, definitely.”

definitely. luke cannot wait for the time definitely comes around.

—loser!Luke who does anything and everything you ask of him.

“can you help me take off my shoes? my feet hurt!”

you whined, throwing yourself onto a log. luke furrowed his brows, more confused above all else. he snickered quietly as he seen you pout, sitting with a leg extended out toward him.

“can’t you do that yourself?” “can’t you do it f’me?”

luke shrugged, sarcastically rolling his eyes at your words. he kneeled down in front of you, beginning to untie the converse you had on.

“you look pretty like this, luke.”

he paused for a moment, his hands still gripping your shoe lace. luke’s lips tightened, his eyebrows twitching. he really didn’t know what to feel other than embarrassment.

“thank you.” he muttered before frantically trying to finish untying the shoe. luke quickly slipped it off, hearing you giggle at his expense.

“why’re you actin’ so shy? can i not compliment my boyfriend?” you teased further as he, once again, frantically tried to untie the other.

“stop it. ‘m tryna help you and this is how you reward me?” “i’ll reward you in a different way if you hurry.”

and goddamnit—hurry he did. even when you asked for him to carry you, he still did. luke is just some guy who’s madly in love with his girlfriend. even when he’s holding her shoes and carrying her bridal style to his cabin.

#— luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan blurb #luke castellan imagine #percy jackson x reader #pjo x reader #luke castellan x you #loser!luke #loser!luke x reader #moneyndior #my god his side profile is perfect #LUKE COME HOME #I MISS YOU #TGE BEDS GETTING COLD

[rosequarzo]

morning bliss

૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა • ! rafayel+ fem! reader canon divergence tooth-rotting fluff established relationship brief and slightly implited mature content ☆ warning not proofread . . . !? & 749— catalogue

notes. this was supposed to be a zayne drabble but rafayel was easier to write (i'm sorry), also can i stop getting rafayel cards LMAO tagging @rninies and @riekiss, i hope you enjoy hehe

Mornings with him are always calm and peaceful; a huge contrast compared to how he usually carries himself in his daily life. When the two of you are alone, hidden and well-protected within the walls of his apartment, Rafayel acts like a spoiled child.

He sheds the haughty appearance he dons on for the public, surrendering himself to you and refusing to move away from you. It was like you two were inseparable, unable to survive without the other beside you. Perhaps it was true for him. 

Sleeping in was never a common occurrence for you, considering the nature of your job. For Rafayel however, sleeping in was a common occurrence. He was persistent in making you adapt to his routine but no matter how hard he tries, you were always one step ahead of him. And he doesn’t mind the challenge. 

Your toes barely managed to touch the cold floor when a pair of familiar arms snaked themselves around your waist, followed by a familiar weight nestling itself on your left shoulder. You didn’t bother turning around to know the culprit was pouting. Glancing over from the corner of your eyes, it took all of your might to refrain yourself from smiling; amused with the current situation. 

“Yes? How can I help you today?” You cheekily asked, earning a slight squeeze from his arms around your waist. 

“Why are you talking to me like I’m a mere stranger? I’m your boyfriend!” The infamous artist whines, burying his face in the crook of your neck. 

Goosebumps formed on your skin at the fleeting sensation of his lips grazing against your skin; a reminder of last night. Your cheeks flushed red at the flashes of memories popping up in your mind and your reaction didn’t go unnoticed by Rafayel’s keen eyes. He wasted no time in launching his next move. 

“What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue, or…” His voice trailed off as he slid one hand underneath the oversized shirt you wore, eliciting a beautiful gasp from your parted lips. His warm hand against your cold skin made you shiver on the spot. 

“Or could it be that you want more?” He purrs, words and tone both alluring like a siren. 

“Unfortunately, duty calls,” you replied, easily slipping out from his grasp and rising to your feet. 

Your action earned a displeased whine of protest as he leaned back to collapse on his bed. “I can’t believe my own lover has decided to abandon me! How cruel the world has become!” 

You rolled your eyes, stretching out your feet to lightly kick him in the shins. Being the dramatic person he is, Rafayel cried out in pain and clutched onto his ankle. “Now my lover has decided to get violent with me! How cruel the world has become indeed!” 

“Oh for the- Are you done acting? I was tempted to prepare breakfast for you but since you’re so full of energy, I guess you can do it instead.” 

Rafayel dropped his acting the moment he heard your words. He shot up from the bed, as if he was struck by a lightning bolt and flashes you his signature charming smile. “Since you have proposed to make breakfast, how can I refuse?”

You merely rolled your eyes, resting your hands on the sides of your hips. “Fine, but you’re coming with me to the kitchen. No buts.” 

“Of course, I wouldn’t dare to spend another minute without you by my side.” 

You internally cursed yourself when your heart fluttered at how cheesy his words were. It was evident that Rafayel knew your weaknesses. To you, he was more akin to a cunning fox, knowing how to make you weak in the knees and how to have you wrapped around his fingers. The same could be applied to him, however. You decided to play along, not wanting to let him have the upperhand. 

“I see, I could say the same to myself as well. It’ll be pretty lonely if you weren't there,” you teased. 

You nearly burst out laughing at the sight of his ears gradually turning red. You stepped forward, grabbing his hand and gently pulled him up, forcing him to follow you out of the bedroom. 

“Come on, we should get started or we’re never having breakfast.” 

Rafayel chuckles, eyes softening as he drinks in the sight of your lovely smile. “Sounds good to me.”

As long as I get to be with you, nothing and no one else matters. 

#୨୧ magazine articles #love and deep space #love and deep space x reader #love and deep space imagines #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace rafayel #rafayel imagines #rafayel x you #rafayel x y/n #rafayel x reader

[rianavi]

the cold

spencer reid x f!reader

content; tooth rotting fluff, oblivious spencer, awkward spencer, best friends but crushing, mutual pining

summary; after a case in alaska the snow is too thick to get a plane ride back so you and the team spend another night in a small motel. the only thing is, spencer doesn’t know if he can take another night of sleeping on the floor in your shared room. and you cant stand seeing him in pain.

based off 05x21

hotch enters the motel with a heavy sigh and a shake of his head. “they said it’s to heavy, we’ll have to stay another night.”

the team sighs and jj and emily disperse, going back to their room, followed by rossi.

spencer stays standing behind the chair you sit in. hands tucked inside his pockets and tongue poking his inner cheek.

derek takes penelope by the hand and leads the way to their room while hotch stays behind to call strauss.

you stand - finally - and begin the tread to the bed thats been holding you for the past three days.

you don’t expect spencer to catch up to you considering youre a fast walker and he’s been dealing with back pain this whole case.

it had given you a feeling of guilt, you and spencer were sharing a room with a single bed and you had lost the fight to sleep on the hardwood floor.

all you wanted was to invite him into the bed with you, under the comforter and cuddled into you as you cling onto each other for warmth.

but you were scared and knew he would never agree to it. so you kept your mouth shut and turned away from his shivering body on the floor.

tonight would be different though.

you couldn’t stand seeing him in agonizing pain any longer, tonight you would finally build up the courage and invite him into bed with you.

when you got to your destination you grabbed a pair of pajamas and made your way to the bathroom.

just as you closed the bathroom door you heard spencer enter the room and sigh before seeing the shadow of his feet walk past the bathroom.

you turn on the sink to wash your face and hands, then changing into a pair of pajama pants and an undershirt.

when you exit the bathroom you make sure to leave the light on as to spencers fear of the dark.

you find him changed into his sleep clothes and making his bed on the floor.

before the chance was taken away you speak softly, “spencer,”

he looks up at you with his big eyes and carved features that make you weak in the knees.

“i’m not letting you sleep on the floor again, it’s way too uncomfortable and i can tell that it’s bothering your back.”

his eyebrows tug together, “well there is no way im letting you sleep here instead.”

the thought of him taking the pain just so you wouldn’t have to has your heart clenching and stomach turning.

“that’s not what i’m saying. there is more than enough room for both of us on the bed.”

you can see the way his cheeks redden and his posture tenses.

at first you think he’s gonna turn you down but then he speaks.

“y-yeah sure.”

youre taken aback to say the least but you smile brightly and make your way over to the bed.

you pull back the covers and fluff the pillows to your liking before crawling under the blanket and waiting for spencer to join you.

he does so slowly and awkwardly, he lays stiff and flat on his back staring up at the ceiling.

you laugh softly at how scared he looks before turning on your side to face him.

“better?”

he nods softly, and pulls the comforter up to his neck while shivering.

“you know.. if we huddle close together the body heat from us will warm each other up.”

“usually im the one speaking facts.”

you laugh at that, airy and light. he smiles at the sound and overcomes his fears by grabbing your hand and intertwining your fingers.

you gasp lightly at the coldness of his hand before smiling at him and squeezing his palm.

the air is less tense now and you both can breathe normally now.

“spencer?”

he looks at you for the first time this night and hums in acknowledgment.

“can you hold me?”

he releases a breath before pulling you into his chest and wrapping his arms around your waist tightly -like he’s been waiting for this moment his whole life-

you smile into his neck and wrap your arms around his neck while your hands land in his hair.

“youre very warm,” he speaks softly

you laugh again, tickling his neck. the warmth of his breath hitting your forehead. he places a soft kiss there and you smile into his neck, tightening your grip on him while sleep overcomes you both.

#criminal minds #fanfic #smut #spencer reid #november #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid angst #fluff #tooth rotting fluff #i wanna die hes so cute #i would kill to hug him #imagine how soft his hair is #ani speaks

[an-idyllic-novelist]

Alastor with Violet Evergarden!reader headcanons: daily routine

warnings: tooth-rotting content, vibes of a semi-domestic life, OOC, established relationship.

Special thanks to @witch-of-the-writing desk and @vikkirosko for their help with this project. Enjoy! :)

Reblog to support content creators! ❤️

Alastor knows that he is a perfect gentleman with high expectations. 

He is one of the most feared overlords in Hell and thrives in the throes of chaos; those unfortunate souls who would dare to question him are torn apart, their screams broadcasted for all to hear and to remind them why he is here. Alastor knows he gets bored easily and doesn’t like to invest his time in short-lived entertainment, heavens no~! He’s here for the continuous, unpredictable acts on the stage of the Hazbin Hotel, that’s why he’s offered his services to Charlie as the gracious facility manager in the first place~!

Funnily enough, it was because of Lucifer’s delusional daughter that he met you. Through a colorful ad, you were given a room under the condition that you participated in all of the group activities unless you worked around the clock like the hotel’s other resident, Angel Dust. You admitted with a blank look that you did have a job in Cannibal Town, but your hours were flexible. 

 Oh~ho, someone new to entertain himself with, what a lovely day it is indeed~!

That had been his initial impression of you: never smiling, an excellent work ethic, and always dressed appropriately [unlike some people]. But as the months slowly trickled by, inching ever closer to the new extermination date and working with you on a near constant basis as facility manager and part-time groundskeeper respectively, you became…important to him. You opened to him about your services in both the Great War and as an Automemory Doll. 

You had done many terrible things that you were not proud of. Initially you had thought by writing letters for clients, helping them convey the words they wanted to say to a loved one, would wash away the blood you had spilt on the battlefield. In the end, it was a foolish endeavor. 

Your sins could not be so easily forgotten, and you had no doubt that some of the men you had killed were down here too, perhaps wanting to seek revenge for what you did. Your place is here in Hell, but that did not mean you could help sinners in your own way if they earnestly wished to redeem themselves.  

It had been a sudden, pesky thing. The moments his feelings for you had altered, whenever that was…irritating to say the least though manageable. Alastor had not even realized that something as trivial as his feelings had changed at all until the small affliction upon his heart festered and grew, bubbling up to the surface and overwhelming him with an emotion he hadn’t identified before. He tried to stifle this emotion, pushing it far back down into the chambers of his rotted heart and forgetting all about it. Prioritize his hunger for freedom, to free himself from the leash coiled tightly around his neck. But all of his efforts were all for naught. No matter how painful it was to admit the truth to himself, Alastor knew. He knew that this desire to call you his companion would not stop clawing through his ribcage until he was absolutely sure that you reciprocate his feelings. 

He tried to approach you with the intention of a proper courtship when romance was not his speciality; he helped you around the hotel excluding the greenhouse because of his special relationship with plants, his shadows secretly escorted you to and from work, and he used his magic to levitate heavy objects even when you had told him that you were quite strong physically. But you had somehow mistaken his intentions as a sign of self-improvement, much to his frustration. 

When all hope seemed lost, however, he found a letter underneath his door one dreary Monday morning. He immediately recognized the ruby-red wax seal as yours and wasted no time opening it. 

He read the contents, eyes growing larger and larger with each line and his heart hammering against his chest, suddenly feeling dizzy…dizzy with what? Shock? Joy? He wasn’t sure but those blasted shadows of his were dancing around the room, jazz music echoing from the swamp with besotted grins stretched across their inky faces. Love? Does he…love you as you love him? Well, your letter did not say it outright, you have confessed to him that you feel intense emotions whenever he is around you. You were bewildered and afraid and you do not blame him in any way. You just…needed help. His help in understanding these emotions before it drove you to the brink of madness and uncertainty. 

Understanding what love is, even the concept of it is just as surreal and foreign to him. But if words could reach you far better than his actions, then it would be an insult to his reputation as the Radio Demon to simply improvise on his courting methods. So he wrote a reply to your letter, carefully and meticulously penning one sentence after another until he was satisfied. His shadows had the honor of delivering his letter, and the silence in his room allowed Alastor to focus preparing for tonight’s broadcast. He couldn’t keep the audience waiting~!

Hours later, he had a script. He had energy and more importantly, he was eager to hear Vox’s outraged howling once the fool realized yet another sponsor had been snatched from right underneath his flat-screened chin~! Oh, Alastor the Radio Demon was ready to go on air until a sudden knock interrupted his little spiel. 

Confused, curious, and quite annoyed, he made a beeline towards the door, throwing it open and ready to skewer the miserable soul who would dare to intrude on his domain when he saw it was you, standing there with a silver tray in your hands. But what surprised him more than the sight of his favorite snacks and coffee was seeing a smile on your face. It wasn’t a forced one where you’d slap your cheeks and try to stretch them out, it was…a genuine smile. And it was directed towards him. 

“May I join you?” You asked.

Suffice to say, those four little words told him everything he needed to know as his own grin widened, bowing from the waist. “Of course, my dear~! Please, come in, come in~! The show is just about to start~!”

Once you stepped inside the radio station, still smiling, that's how it began. His romantic relationship with you, that is. 

Although you had told him more than once to go back to sleep after rising out of your shared bed at five o’clock in the morning, Alastor insisted on waking up with you. It is his choice as it is your habit to prepare for the day ahead much earlier than your colleagues. He will never say it out loud, but he does enjoy these quiet hours when it is just the two of you. 

Alastor is in charge of making breakfast in the hotel’s brand new kitchen, and that is final. He will appreciate your assistance with setting up the table; meticulously placing the silverware and napkins down, changing out the bouquet of shriveled flowers with fresh ones from the greenhouse, and preparing his coffee just how he likes it in his favorite mug. He gladly prepares your usual morning tea and adds just a little more sliced fruit on your already full plate of eggs, bacon, and toast. You needed all of the energy at the emporium today~! Although you did work here at the hotel, Rosie owned your soul and you were her assistant. You made sure everything in Cannibal Town was running smoothly, including the emporium, should its darling overlord be away from her territory for a myriad of reasons. 

Over breakfast, he would share ideas with you for his broadcast before deciding to put the words on paper. Goodness knows that he’s asked for assistance with typing or refining the scripts mere hours before he’s on the air, though at least he does it with more style than a clout-chasing, mediocre podcast who talks too fast and jumps from one fad to another in pursuit of allure. He hears your feedback with a thoughtful hum before asking if you would like another cup of tea.

After helping him clean up the kitchen, the two of you return to your room. He would read the morning newspapers in his comfy chair, sometimes out loud if the articles were interesting to hear over the click-clank-clank of your Remington typewriter as you wrote either scripts for his show or a daily report for Rosie. When the clock on the dresser struck seven, it was time for you to leave for Cannibal Town.

The two of you exchange words, wishing the other to have a good day and remember to smile because you are never fully dressed without one. Then you leave the hotel, suitcase in one hand and a tin lunchbox in the other. Alastor will also make your midday meals, so make sure to enjoy it to your heart's content. He will not be happy if you decide to forgo taking a proper break just so that you can be ahead of your workload. Granted it is a lovely surprise to see you return much earlier than normal, but Rosie shared his sentiments. Bottom line: take your lunch break when you are supposed to or you will face the disappointed wrath of two cannibals. 

He might have seen that you are more than capable of keeping yourself in the Pentagram, but that will not lessen his protective nature. A shadow will always be by your side when you leave the hotel’s premises, keeping him up to date on your movements while he is helping Charlie or Vaggie. 

Ironically, it is his position as the hotel’s facility manager that acts as his coping mechanism. He will keep himself busy for as long as possible, asking trivial questions here and there. He doesn’t want anyone to know that this…. habit developed because he does not like it when you are not home at exactly six o’clock. He knows Rosie would never keep you in Cannibal Town beyond working hours unless it was an emergency but have mercy on him! If you can't help working late, so be it but please come back to him as soon as you can. It would put his mind at ease just a little if you contacted him ahead of time. 

Once you are home, he will immediately sweep you into his arms and do a little dance before escorting you to the dining room, with a hot meal already prepared and waiting for you to enjoy. He will sit with you so that you won’t have to eat by yourself. Once you’ve had your fill of food and drink, it’s time to unwind for the night. He will play soft jazz over the radio as either you read in bed, or he reads, and you do a tiny bit of work on your typewriter before it’s time for sleep. He won’t fall asleep until you have drifted off first. 

Rosie will tease him about you being his support system over tea, but it’s true. You are the reason, the sanity, to his madness. 

Taglist: @alastor-simp @frompeach @imperfectbloodmoon @lanxianschoenheit @bones4thecats @22carolina08 @tired-of-life-86 @kanroji-san @oucx @navierkalani @anielly-2010 @victheauthor @the-cat-queen-peasants @solandis-does-stuff @ladydoe8 @nunezs-stuff @luthefriendlywitch @dilucragnvindr-my-beloved @kameyo-kumo @yourdoorisunlocked @swallowtail-lotus

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor hazbin #violet evergarden!reader #fluffy headcanons #an idyllic novelist

[bluebeary-jay]

Halcyon days

Based on this ask (i was stupid and started writing all this as a new post and not an answer im sorryyy)

Tags: fluff. INSANE amount of tooth-rotting fluff, established relationship, takes place after the events of season 1

Warnings: none? there is swearing and suggestive humor tho ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Word count: ~3K

A/N: My sweet anon I'm sorry that I didn't write the 'looking for a place to sleep' bit but I got carried away with your lovely request and it was already longer than I expected lol. I really hope you like it!! 💕 and thank you for being my first request! 😊

You shielded your eyes from the sun and shook your hand again, signaling for Joel to take it.

“Come on, you always whine about your back pains. It’ll do you good.”

“You think lyin’ on the cold hard ground will help me with that?” he asked with tongue in cheek.

“It's actually really soft. Come on, give it a try.” You patted the spot next to you, but the man still didn't move, scouting the area around you instead. You sighed heavily. “Alright, if it's too hard for your back I'll let you lay on me. Happy?”

Joel gave you a sultry look and finally intertwined his fingers with yours.

“I can already tell the ground will be really uncomfortable,” he said teasingly in this sexy drawl of his and you squinted at him.

“Sure you can.”

Joel craned his neck before he let himself get pulled down, and cupped his free hand around his mouth.

“Hey, kiddo!” he yelled to Ellie who was squatting near a small creek down the hill you were lying on. “You alright there?!”

“Yeah, yeah!” the girl shouted back, waving to you both. “Don't come down here, yet!”

“Okay! We’ll be right here if you need anything.”

“Sure thing! Just don't start shagging.”

You choked on air and looked in disbelief in the direction of Ellie’s voice, though you couldn't see the teen from where you were lying, as the view was obscured by high grass.

“Christ, this kid is impossible,” you mumbled as Joel sat down next to you with a loud grunt.

“Tell me somethin’ I don’t know. You didn’t hear her giving me so-called ‘relationship advices’ yesterday. And no,” he added when you opened your mouth, “m’not gonna repeat them to you. It was painful enough to have to endure it alone.”

“You know what they say,” you quirked your lips and he sent you a glare.

“I swear to god, if you quote that dumb comic again…”

You snorted, knowing he was saying it with fondness, judging by his tone and a tug of the corners of his lips. Joel shook his head and laid down slowly on the grass, closing his eyes. You cosied up next to him on your stomach and propped your chin on your hands.

For a couple of seconds you just admired his features and slow rise and falls of his chest, enjoying the quiet atmosphere around you and listening to the crickets chirping and birds singing in the tree crowns.

But of course he didn’t let you indulge yourself, because before long he cracked one eye open and sent you a suspicious glance.

“Why’re you staring?”

“You’ve got something on your cheek,” you answered without missing a beat. Joel wiped his face with an irritated look while you tried your hardest not to laugh out loud.

“Is it still there?” he asked, but you winced and tilted your head discontentedly.

“You just smudged it more. Hold on a second.”

He sighed tiredly and closed his eyes again when you shuffled closer, partially draping yourself over his torso. One of his arms automatically encircled your waist to cuddle you up while he kept the other one under his head. You smirked to yourself and took his face between your hands, pretending to hum in focus. After a couple of seconds Joel cracked his eye open and glanced up at you.

“Jesus, I can feel you burning a hole in my skull. Is my head covered in fungi, or something?”

“Not yet,” you joked. “Keep your eyes closed.”

He exhaled heavily again and relaxed under you, totally oblivious to the mischievous smirk on your face. You faked scraping something off his cheek and when you were pretty sure he lowered his guard, you surged forward and quickly gave the bridge of his nose a small peck.

Joel’s eyes immediately snapped open and a surprised – and then delighted – smile spread across his face.

“What are you doin’?”

“Nothing at all,” you answered innocently, but this time you couldn’t hide a sly grin threatening to split your face in half. “I told you you have something on your cheek.”

Joel made a sound of fake acknowledgment and took his other hand from under his head to pull you even closer and on top of himself. You giggled when he nudged your nose with his, trailing his fingers up and down the back of your neck.

“On my cheek, you say?”

“Mhm.”

“I don’t think you got it, then. You aimed at my nose,” he mused cheekily, making you laugh again.

“Oh, you’re right! Silly me.” You leaned in and kissed his jaw this time, smiling against his facial hair. “Let me…” another kiss, this time on his forehead, “...try again, then…” another, next to his eye, “...just to be sure.”

It wasn’t often that Joel let you (and himself) be so affectionate when you weren’t alone, but you guessed Ellie was far enough that he didn’t worry about it now. Or maybe he was just in a good mood – it happened a lot more often lately.

After everything that transpired in the hospital, you were worried Ellie wasn’t going to believe his version of events and shut herself off, but whether the teen still doubted your and Joel’s words or not, she didn’t seem eager to distance herself from you two.

Which was a damn big relief for you, and even a greater one for Joel – not that he’d ever admit it.

Anyone who would bother to look could see that the man was a lot happier lately. He found his brother, he had you, and he didn’t lose Ellie like you knew he feared. The three of you still went on trips outside of Jackson – or like Ellie liked to call them, ‘spontaneous adventures’ – and this was one of the places you personally liked the most. A secluded meadow with a hill overgrown with flowers and leading down to a small torrent at the base of it. Noone has ever ventured so far beyond the especially-hard-to-cross portion of the river, but the place was worth the effort as it was so beautiful, it looked like it was pulled out of a fairy tale.

Speaking of beautiful, Joel cupped your cheeks and let his warm gaze rove over your face as if he wanted to commit it to memory. You were just about to ask if you had something on your face as well, when he spoke up quietly.

“Do you have any idea how goddamn gorgeous you are?” he asked, brushing the strands of your hair out of your face.

“Stop it,” you snapped back, hiding your face in the crook of his neck, but Joel tsked, guiding your chin to look at you again.

“You are,” he said, sounding almost surprised at how bashful you got, before his lips stretched into a smirk. “Are you just fishin’ for compliments, darlin’? Denyin’ it so that I can praise you more?”

“I’m not!” You laughed at the sheer thought of that and Joel took that opportunity to plant a kiss above your mouth. “If anything, you’re just trying to rile me up and get me to compliment you.”

“Don’t even try,” he warned you seriously, but you just shrugged with a playful expression.

“Well, I have to remind you sometimes how good-looking you are,” you whispered against his lips, smiling brightly when you felt his breathless chuckle.

“Shut up.”

“Not until–”

He cut you off by sliding his hand to the back of your neck and pulling you up carefully so he could kiss you deeply. You smiled into the kiss, knowing very well what he’s doing, but not minding it in the slightest.

“You’re trying to distract me,” you accused him when the two of you parted, but he shook his head and tutted. His thumb was brushing your cheek slowly and your body burned in all places he was touching you. You reminded yourself about Ellie’s words and tried to calm down.

“Nah. You had somethin’ on your face, too, and I wanted to return the favor.”

He was so silly sometimes, you almost couldn’t believe that those hands were capable of anything else than caressing your skin so lovingly.

“Liar,” you whispered, earning yourself a low chuckle.

“I could say the same about you.”

You couldn’t help the squeal that escaped you when he turned you over in a swift motion so that now you were lying on your back with the man hovering above you. Whatever protests you might’ve had, they were swallowed down by Joel’s lips on yours, and you hummed happily at the feeling of his touch.

The two of you took several minutes to enjoy each other’s company to the fullest, planting lazy kisses on your faces and whispering silly words of affection. At one point Joel sighed contently, peppering the edge of your jaw and neck with soft kisses, and then laid his head on your chest. One of his arms snaked around your waist to hug you tighter and he closed his eyes.

You pressed your lips together not to giggle, and started to slowly run your fingers through his hair. He groaned and you felt his muscles relaxing under your touch.

“If you keep doing that, I’m gonna fall asleep,” he murmured and you kissed the crown of his head softly.

“Maybe that’s exactly my plan. You don’t get enough rest.”

“Stop,” he said again, though he didn't make any attempt to pull away or stop you himself. “Someone's gotta keep an eye on everything.”

“I’ll make sure we’re safe,” you shushed him, gently scratching the spot behind his ear, to which he made a sound not unlike purring. You suppressed a smile. “Besides, I’ve never seen an infected around here. The chances of something stumbling upon us…”

“...are much higher if we let our guard down,” he finished, his hand going to the gun lying on the grass on his other side to make sure he could reach it quickly. “I don’t want something to happen to you or Ellie.”

“I know, love,” you whispered, kissing his forehead again, trying to make some of those worry wrinkles disappear. “Just close your eyes for a moment. I’ll make sure nothing happens during this time.”

He sighed again and nuzzled his head more into your chest. “You’re a treasure, darlin’.”

“Obviously,” you murmured in response and felt his chest rumble with quiet laughter. “I love you, you know?”

“Love you, too.” He shook his head lightly, but the smile didn’t fade from his face. “Even though you’re a menace.”

“Shut up and relax already. I’ll stand guard.”

He just grumbled again. You took a deep breath of summer air and looked up to the sky.

*****

You didn’t plan on falling asleep.

Even before you opened your eyes, having registered a tip of a shoe nudging your arm and rousing you from your nap, you felt this terrible, gnawing feeling of guilt and panic. Joel would kill you if…

But no, he was still asleep with his head lying heavily on your chest. You sighed with relief and opened your eyes, squinting at Ellie standing above you.

“Finally! How loud do I have to ‘psst!’ for you to wake up? Jesus, I started to think you both are dead.”

You grumbled and rubbed your eyes. You felt dizzy, but that was always the case when you fell asleep in the middle of the day. It was an hour or so before sunset now, and the field you rested on was bathed in a warm, orange glow.

“Not dead,” you yawned drowsily and nodded at the teen. “What’s up?”

Ellie pointed at Joel. “Wake up the old man.”

You furrowed your brows. “What? Why?”

“Because I want to push you both down the hill,” she whispered in a mocking tone and rolled her eyes when you lifted your eyebrows. “I have something to show you, if you really need to know.”

She did have one of her hands hidden behind her back, so it wasn’t completely unlikely. Still, something about it smelled fishy.

“Why didn’t you wake him up yourself?” you asked in a whisper, too, honestly surprised that you both still had to keep your voices down. Usually the slightest sound woke Joel up, but now he didn’t even stir. Ellie groaned and pointed her hand at you both, like it was obvious.

“Because last time he gave me a bunch of shit about it! And he won’t be mad at you if you do this.”

She had a point, if you wanted to be honest with yourself. Normally you would tease her for it, but lately Ellie rarely acted so secretive and excited, so you decided to humor her this time.

“I’ll blame it on you if he gets angry at me.”

“I’ll really push you down the hill if you do.”

You stick your tongue out at her, which Ellie mirrored, before rolling your eyes and shifting your attention to the man still lying motionlessly on top of you.

“Joel…” you mumbled into his skin, brushing your fingers through his hair lightly. A low grumble issued from his chest and you chuckled despite yourself, leaning down to kiss his forehead softly. You pretended not to hear Ellie gagging in the background. “Come on, I know you’re not asleep.”

He sighed heavily and finally opened his eye, but then he shifted his gaze to Ellie’s form, and let his eyelid drop again.

“Get rid of the kid,” he murmured, snuggling back into your chest.

His head started to shake from the laughter reverberating inside your chest and Ellie gasped indignantly, now having no reservations about going around you and kicking Joel’s leg.

“Fuck off and get your lazy ass up!”

Joel sighed martyrly, as if that was the greatest sacrifice somebody could demand from him, but finally got up, freeing you from under his weight but also depriving you of his safe embrace. He looked at Ellie and lifted his eyebrows, waiting.

The girl in question grinned and pulled a bunch of flowers from behind her back.

Before you realized that it actually wasn’t a bouquet, but several flower crowns, Joel was already shaking his head and actually backing away. “No. No way.”

“Oh my gosh, they’re beautiful, Ellie!” you admired her work, not paying attention to the man behind you, and shifted closer to get a better look. “Where did you learn that?”

“One of those books Tommy gave me had a guide how to do it,” Ellie explained with a wide smile. It surprised you a little that she’d be so enthusiastic about a skill like that, but then she turned back to Joel and her eyes glinted with mischief. “C’mon, try it on.”

“No.”

“Can I pick one?” you asked, once again ignoring your partner. Ellie shook her head, now not even trying to hide a proud, mocking grin that widened when she saw how reluctant Joel was.

“No. Yours is the one with those small yellow shits.” You snorted at the name Ellie gave tiny, round flowers, but put it on immediately. The girl held the crown made out of blue and purple flowers on her lap, and stuck out the last one with small pink and white flowers in Joel’s direction. “And that’s all yours.”

“No,” he repeated. You sat next to Ellie and turned to him with a fake pout on your face.

“Joel, we don't turn down gifts. It's not polite.” He glared at you as you leaned on Ellie’s shoulder. “Ellie has worked on it for so long, think how exhausting it must've been!”

“Look at my poor, tired hands,” Ellie sighed dramatically, lifting her hands and wiggling her fingers, and you couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you.

Joel looked from her to you with a grimace. You mouthed ‘please?’ to him and he groaned, running his hands down his face.

And then – making Ellie snort and you jump excitedly in place – he took the flower crown from the girl and all but dropped it onto his head.

“Joke’s on you, because I know for a fact pink looks great on me.”

“Glad you think so, because…” Ellie trailed off with a shit-eating grin and threw her backpack on the ground, quickly rummaging through it. You grabbed onto Joel’s arm before he had a chance to escape when she pulled out one of those old cameras with a flip screen, making him sigh even louder. “Now move your ass.”

While Ellie was positioning herself between the two of you and turning on the device, you quickly lifted Joel’s hand to your lips behind her back, kissing his fingers with a grateful smile. He seemed to have given in to his fate, not making any attempt to move away or talk his way out of it, just rubbing his brow with a tired expression. The smallest of smiles found its way onto his face when he felt your lips on his skin and he glanced up at you with fondness.

“You two will be the death of me,” he muttered, and Ellie poked him in the ribs with her elbow.

“Shut up and smile. We don’t have much sunlight left.”

You scooted over closer to Ellie to fit in the frame, squinting a little from the reddish-orange sun blinding you from behind a cloud above the horizon. The girl snapped one photo and made a different face, and in that split second your eyes darted to Joel’s in the small screen of the camera.

He still looked very reluctant to be in a photo, but you could see he was trying to hold back a smile.

He did look good in pink. And you meant the flowers as well as the small blush adoring his cheeks.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #the last of us #joel miller #ellie williams #because i cant write a fic without her in it #joel miller x y/n #joel tlou #pedro pascal #beary writes

[mountainsandmayhem]

hey hun!! for your 500 followers celebration could you do 📝, of a scenario in which joel comes home to find you all cramped up and in pain since you began your period and he decides to be the comforting little man and cuddles you to death??

(no pressure!! 🥰🤗)

-vii💗💗

Joel: Period Master

18+, but mostly fluff

Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

AN: Thank you sweet Viv for this ask. This is based in the Little Dove universe, but Sarah and Ellie are teenagers and living at home. 💋 also, I 100% did not edit or proof read this. Sorry!

Joel has had a long ass day. A joke of a day really. First the concrete was late, then someone broke the powered wheelbarrow so they were moving gravel by hand. Then it started raining and they scrambled to cover everything, the job site soon became a muddy mess. He’s desperately looking forward to a hot shower and a glass of whiskey.

He pulls into the garage to see your vehicle already parked, which is strange since you had plans with a friend for after work drinks.

He trudges from the truck to the back door, mud still breaking off his work boots along the shiny concrete floor of the garage. He toes them off before heading into the back entry. Your heels are tossed on the floor, work bag and jacket haphazardly placed on the bench.

“Babe?” He calls from the back door, walking around to the family room to find his two daughters curled up on the couches.

“Hi girls. Where’s your mom?”

They both shoot daggers from their eyes, Ellie clutching the blanket tighter around herself and Sarah flipping the ice pack that’s draped across the back of her neck.

Shit, already that time.

The joys of living with all women….they’ve synced up. His usually sweet teenagers daughters turn extra moody, but Joel is the supporter of this family in every way, so he is always prepared for this time each month. Sarah, usually the sweet tooth, needs salt and chocolate milk. Ellie, usually the salty one, needs Diet Coke and green gummy frogs. All things Joel keeps tucked up in a cupboard, or in the back of the beer fridge in the garage.

He sneaks quietly back into the living room, putting the emergency supplies for the girls down on the coffee table as they watch Dirty Dancing.

Ellie looks up at him with sad eyes, tears welling in the corners. “Thanks, dad.”

He crouches down beside her and rubs her lower back through the big fuzzy blanket she’s cocooned in. “You’re welcome, kiddo. Do you need anything else?”

Sarah’s head pops up from her couch, “Mom’s not doing well. You should go be with her.”

He kisses both his daughters on the foreheads, taking a big breath before walking down the hall to your bedroom. Nothing in this world breaks his heart more than seeing you in pain. He knows some months can be worse than others, he knows about the bloating and the large clots you deal with. He knows that you can be insatiably hungry one minute and throwing up the next. He knows that your cramps can have you on the floor in the matter of seconds most of the time.

He opens the door as quietly as possible, finding you curled in a tight ball under the down filled duvet, just your hair peaking out the top. The room is stifling hot, the air almost thick, it feels like being in Phoenix in July as he pads over to the bed.

“Baby?” He whispers, carefully climbing up beside you, trying not to disturb you. A lesson he learned a few years ago when you had finally gotten comfortable, only to be brought to big crocodile tears when he moved a pillow that was tucked against your back.

A sad groaning whine leaves your throat as his large palm dips under the blanket to cup your forehead. “Sweetie, you’re burning up.”

“I’m freezing,” you whine, pulling the big blanket tighter around you.

“Ok, baby girl. I’m here now,” he says, standing and stripping down to his boxers briefs. You peek your eyes over the blanket, watching the way his strong body flexes and relaxes, the muscles ripping as he moves. The summer sun has tanned his arms a beautiful golden brown.

He wanders around to lay behind you. “Let me in, honey.”

You let go of the blanket so he can slip under, his warmth immediately sinking into you, heating your sore and achy body all the way to the bone. “You’re practically naked under here, Little Dove.”

You sink back into his heat. “Don’t look, I’m wearing the worst granny panties and one of those super pads.”

His hands trail around your slides, a large palm resting on the very bottom of your belly where the cramps are, hand sliding under the band of your incredibly unattractive panties. “You’re sexy to me no matter what you wear.”

Joel begins kneading the muscles of your lower abdomen, simulating the contracting of your uterus and the pain begins to ease. You moan and relax more into your perfect man.

“That feel good?” He says in a deep, gravel filled whisper.

“Mm-hmmm,” you hum, closing your eyes and finally feeling relief from the debilitating cramps.

Joel pulls you in tighter and kisses your shoulder. “I’m sorry you’re suffering, baby. I’m going to take care of you. Anything you need, I’ll do it or get it.”

“DAAAAAAD!!” Sarah and Ellie call in unison from the couch. “PIZZAAAA!!!”

You snort a little laugh. Poor Joel, having to deal with all these uterus’s.

“Pizza party?” You ask.

“Anything for my girls.” He hums, stubble grazing the shell of your ear.

“Anything?” You say mischievously.

“You’re not painting my toe nails again”

“Damn. I have this new hot pink that I think would really suit you,” you tease.

Joel’s quiet for a moment, still kneading the muscles absentmindedly, but with incredible care and precision. “I’ll lend you my favourite sweats and t shirt if you stay away from my toes.”

“Deal,” you say with a wince.

“What’s wrong?” Joel says, pulling you onto your back so he can look you over. Concern etching his eyebrows.

You reach up and rub the creases spot with your thumb, his eyes meeting yours. “Butt hole cramp,” you say flatly.

Joel smirks down at you, at this angle your swollen, heavy breasts are on display for him. “Want me to kiss it better?”

“You’re a menace, Joel Miller. And our daughters will riot if we don’t get them pizza soon.”

Joel lends you his clothes and helps you get dressed before sliding on his jeans and t shirt. He kisses your forehead and helps you to the lazy boy chair, brining your king sized duvet with him to wrap you up.

���I’ll be back with pizza,” he says to the group.

As soon as he’s out of ear shot Ellie pipes up, “do you think if we play this up we can get him to let us paint his toe nails again?”

#joel miller #joel miller tlou #pedro pascal #joel the last of us #joel tlou #joel x reader #joel miller x reader #soft!joel miller #joel miller fluff #nikki answers

[scarleart]

i want that wet slow tongue kissing with abby where you’re pressed right up against each other grinding and biting and grabbing and moaning and saying nasty stuff to each other GOD

oh my… goodness. i think you just took me out.

.˚₊┈୨♡୧┈₊˚.

god the two of you looked so… perfectly messy and feral.

abby had you seated on her, the back of your clothed thighs pressing right into the exposed front of hers. she was kneeling into the bed, holding and gripping you by your ass to keep you propped up as you rutted against her.

abby’s rough lips were connected passionately to your impending swollen ones. both of your lips collided and clashed together in a kiss that was full of both immense need and desire all at once. her warm, smooth tongue gilded and danced rhythmically inside of your desperate mouth. the wet muscle tracing every tooth and all of it’s crevices almost as if she’s trying to memorize it.

the only thing you could hear in the room were the sounds of the both of your lips smacking wetly against each other’s so sloppily— following right along with the infinite sounds of abby’s groans and your mewls.

abby’s hand that’s on your ass, gripping like her fucking life was depending on it, rose up and suddenly landed a sharp blow to your cheek. her hand coming down to massage the skin as soon as she did so as she heard your little cry. feeling your hips stuttering against her bulge from the strap she was wearing under her shorts.

she pulled away from your addicting mouth, a singular strand of yours and your lover's spit kept your agape mouth’s together, the string only breaking when you went back to chase after her lips once more. so needy and desperate for her to be close to you at all times.

abby slightly pull back from your incoming lips, a light chuckle leaving her while she does so. a smirk taking over her spit glistening lips as she eyed your slacken expression and sounds of the little purring noises emitting from you.

“mmphn— abs” you moaned softly, your hands rushing to grab at your girlfriends raging arms to ground yourself, the big fullness of her biceps making your mind go even more crazy.

“mm, already goin’ dumb from just a few little kisses, baby?” she laughs in question, her mouth moving to abuse your neck next. her hands holding and controlling the movements of your hips grinding, making you go so fucking slow purposefully.

you then puckered your lips that were swollen from yours and abby’s previous intense making out, into a huge pout unconsciously.

“i wan’ your cock” you whined, trying to force your hips to move faster but only being met by a bruising smack at the same exact spot from a few minutes ago on your bum. abby grins at your words, ignoring your squeals of pain as she kept moving you against her however she pleased.

“yea? want me in that pretty pussy of yours? jus’ want me to fuck you until you can’t take it anymore, huh?” abby asks you lowly before she presses a harsh kiss against your saliva coated lips once again, her tongue making home into the warm cavern of your hot mouth. you were trying so hard to keep up with her but you couldn’t.

“hm? just want me to ruin that needy cunt” her words were fucking destroying you, it didn’t help that her voice was so husky and low. just all close to you, saying so much nasty shit to you. god, you can feel yourself literally leaving a puddle in your underwear. you’re sure as hell abby does too. you were so wet.

you weakly nod your head, whimpering when she started making you pick up the pace. feeling your clit grind against her hard bulge and the help of the friction of your underwear building you so close to the edge.

“yeah, baby?” you nod feebly once more, causing abby to chuckle to herself. her pretty baby. “say it” you let out a whiny groan at her words, so so close to cumming when she goes even faster.

“i—i want you to ruin my needy c—cunt, please. wan’ it so badly” abby gives you a small peck on your now bruised, and oh so sore lips. smirking when you kissed her back sheepishly when she pulled away from you.

“i’ll give it to you, princess”

#nsfw.ren #abby anderson fic #abby anderson smut #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson x reader #abby x reader #abby anderson fan fiction #abby anderson x you #abby anderson x y/n #abby anderson #tlou smut

[allysunny]

Can you do a Miguel x spoil pregnant wife. Ever since he found out about the pregnancy he's been overprotective and making sure his wife is spoiled and happy 😁

Catering to You ! Miguel x Pregnant Fem!Reader

Words: 3.0k

Warnings: Fluff! Tooth-rotting sweetness, truly! But in the end there's a bit of NSFW (it has a warning before!) Spanish translations are at the end, as always!

A/N: Hello!! I'm honestly so in love with this idea because we all know Miguel would be the most amazing husband, and would break his back doing everything he could to spoil his pregnant wife. I loved writing this!

Also, a small warning before you read, I got a little carried away and wrote a small NSFW section at the end. I know I said I wouldn't write it, and I also know that you did not request it, so I'm going to add that after a warning, and you're free to not read that part! It does not ruin the flow of the fic, nor add anything else, it's just that I personally felt like writing it, and you don't need to read it if you don't want to!!!

But for those who do read that - please be kind! It's my first every writing anything smut related, so please don't judge too harshly!

No because we all know this man would be soooo protective!

When you told him you were pregnant, he was over the moon. Went the whole nine yards, got down on his knees, kissed your stomach, lifted you off your feet and spun you around in the air, professed his undying love for you over and over again until you were both crying, and you could not tell where his tears began and your ended.

And from that moment on, you never lifted a finger ever again.

The End!

I’m joking – but seriously, he would be adamant in not letting you lift a finger.

No more chores for you.

“Miguel, I’m pregnant, not disabled!” You’d try to reason with him, but he’d just mock your pout and kiss your forehead.

“Sorry, mi amor. But I can’t allow it.” Then, he’d be peppering your face with kisses until you had no choice but to relent.

One time, he caught you cleaning the floors and he wasn’t happy.

“How many times do I have to tell you, chiquita, you don’t have to do anything. Just sit there and relax your pretty self, ¿si? Can’t have you making any efforts, our baby needs to rest.” He would say, picking you up and setting you down on your couch.

Don’t worry, after a few weeks of pleading and telling him you’d be careful, he would give in. I mean, how could he not, when you were looking so gorgeous in front of him, glowing, even? He would do anything to make you happy, and if doing a couple of easy enough chores around the house keeps a smile on your face, he’d be damned if he didn’t agree.

Once your pregnant belly started to show, he was in cloud nine.

You want to tell me that he gets to look at you – everyone gets to look at you and immediately know that you belonged to him? That the life growing inside of you was his child? It made him feral.

Everywhere you guys went, he’d be there, proudly showing you off. Smiling gratefully as old women on the street complimented your looks, giving his own two cents on why your beauty is timeless, and how you seem to get more gorgeous with each day that passes.

When you start worrying about your weight, he makes sure to remind you that he is crazy about you, and that you are stunning. He’ll run his hands over the skin of your thighs, fingertips silently promising what words cannot express, while his lips are pressed against your neck, whispering praises in your name.

“How could you even think that?” He would ask, pressing kiss after kiss after kiss. “You’re so gorgeous, mi amor. You’re carrying our child inside of you, that is… coño, that is miraculous. Have you thought about it? You and I created a child. Your body is nursing a life. That is beautiful.” And then he’d be kissing you and you would forget why you were upset in the first place.

Miguel would be the most attentive husband, for sure.

The moment he saw you uncomfortable, or in pain, he’d be all over you, asking if there was anything he could do to help soothe your pain. You know when husbands hold onto their wife’s bellies to carry their weight and help them relax? Miguel would do that; he would just stop anything he was doing to walk over to you and carry the weight of your belly.

When your feet were swollen and hurt, he’d guide you to the couch, place your pretty legs over his lap and massage your feet to provide some relief. He’d even go as far as applying some oils and creams, to make the experience extra nice.

“My princesa deserves the best,” Would be his reasoning.

And don’t get me started on your cravings.

You’d been fidgeting on the couch for a few minutes now. Looking at the tv, immersed in your silly show, but visibly uncomfortable. You’d sigh and hum to yourself, casting weary glances at Miguel. These silly pregnancy cravings would be the death of you, but even though Miguel had always been a very doting husband, you didn’t want to bother him any further.

However, nothing could go unnoticed by this man. He had been observing you for a while, eyeing you curiously. What was on your mind?

He could let this silly game go on for a while longer, but the urge to aid you was way stronger; he couldn’t help himself, he had to make sure all was okay.

“Is everything alright, cariño?” In a heartbeat, he was sitting next to you on the couch, rubbing soothing circles on your stomach.

“Yeah, mhm,” You’d try to lie, but who were you trying to fool? Miguel knew you like the back of his hand, he knew when something was amiss. You couldn’t lie to him, not like this.

“Are you sure? You look awfully uncomfortable. Come on, tell me. ¿Qué pasa?” With soft caresses and a velvet-like voice, Miguel knew exactly how to coax an answer out of you.

You looked away for a few moments, slightly embarrassed. Miguel wouldn’t shame you, absolutely not. And he wouldn’t get upset – that’s out of the question. Ever since the beginning of your pregnancy, he’s been the poster child of “helpful”. So when you mumble that you need his help, he nods dutifully and places a soft finger on your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“Hey, it’s alright. You know I’m here for you. What’s wrong?” He would ask, kindness and devotion spilling from his eyes. You saw all of the love this man had for your small family right in this little moment.

“I… I’m…”

“¿Si?”

“I… I’m really craving pickles and strawberry jam!” You blurted out, relief washing over you. It felt so nice to say you. You really wanted pickles and strawberry jam – no. You needed pickles and strawberry jam. You were positive you were going to die if you didn’t get your hands on both things right this moment.

Miguel stared at you comically, stifling a chuckle.

“Pickles and strawberry jam?” He repeated, hand leaving your chin to rest on your stomach again.

“Shit – Miggy, I will love you forever; but please get me some pickles and strawberry jam! I would kill for a sandwich of pickles and jam, I will kill for a sandwich of pickles and jam!” You kept babbling about this odd combination, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. “Please, please, please, I’m begging you, my love.”

And he couldn’t say no to you. Not when you were looking so pretty, bottom lip jutting out in the most adorable pout, eyes wide and hands on top of his. Miguel kissed your forehead, lips still forming a teasing smile.

“I’ll be right back.”

In around 20 minutes, you were happily sitting on your couch with a tray in front of you. Jars of pickles (that your husband lovingly opened for you after you begged him) and of strawberry jam (that your husband also opened, because you just looked so adorable when you pouted) were on top of it, slices of bread stacked on top of a plate as you happily created what to Miguel was the most monstrous sandwich he’d ever seen.

But you looked so content, that could brush aside the fact this meal looked like an abomination.

“Oh, thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you Miggy! This is delicious!” You chirped, fingers covered in jam and mouth full.

It wasn’t the only time Miguel had to help soothe your weird taste in food, no doubt caused by those pesky pregnancy hormones.

“Miggy, would you bring me that nice tomato soup you make and the gummy bears?”

“Honey, I’m really craving some spaghetti right now – but not with the tomato sauce, will you please bring me the chocolate topping?”

“Do we have any sardines? I wanna dip them in whipped cream so badly…”

“Oh darling, I would just die for a few nachos with cream cheese. Will you get them for me? Please?”

Upon hearing these strange requests, Miguel would just laugh and happily oblige. He understood your body was going through a million things at the moment, and the least he could do was try to make this pregnancy easier on you. Even if it meant gathering the most eccentric of ingredients to cook what in his humble opinion could be considered ghastly.

But once again, it made you smile. You looked so happy, and you were glowing, and there was nothing Miguel wouldn’t do for you.

Speaking of hormones, we need to address your mood swings.

Miguel considers himself a rather stable person. He’s able to maintain a professional front at HQ, and keep his emotions out of his job, and stay calm – most of the times.

Which is why seeing you go through a flurry of different emotions in the span of a few hours threw him off guard the first time it happened.

One day, while you happily sat on your balcony while reading a book, you spotted a bluebird nest, which fascinated you. You watched them contentedly, the mother bird feeding her children, chirping, and nuzzling against their feathers.

It was a lovely sight.

And then, Miguel, who by then had been doing the dishes, was startled by the sound of your sobs. He rushed to the balcony to find you hiding your face in your hands, wailing loudly – and because of what, he had no idea.

“Cariño, what’s wrong?” He tried prying your hands away, but to no avail. You kept hiding from the world.

In between choked sobs, you managed to speak a few broken words.

“T-The bird! He, he c-can’t fly!” You cried even louder, pressing squeezing your face tightly against his chest.

“¿Perdón?” He was dumbfounded. The bird? What bird? And what did you mean, he couldn’t fly? “Darling, I can’t understand what you mean. Will you please look at me?”

It’s okay. He’s patient.

Slowly, you look up towards him, and the sheer confusion mixed with patience and devotion just made you bawl even louder. Now Miguel was getting worried. What had gotten into you?

“Take your time, honey. But please, do tell me what is wrong. How can I help?”

You sniffled a few times, wiping your tears on the sleeve of your shirt.

“T-The bird!”  You pointed to the nest and Miguel followed your finger. That’s when he spotted the little family of birds that graced your balcony. “H-He can’t fly! The ba-baby bird is s-struggling to fly!”

Okay, so.

Is Miguel an understanding person? Towards you, always.

Does he love you unconditionally and would never make fun of you in a way that would hurt your feelings? Never. That’s out of the question.

Is he amused by the situation unfolding in front of him? Very much.

In fact, it takes every bone in his body not to hunch over himself laughing.

It doesn’t work out entirely.

Miguel hugs you against him, chuckling tenderly.

“Oh, mi amor… It’s only natural. It’s a part of nature, that little bird will eventually learn how to fly.” He says in a gentle voice, catching your hand in his and caressing it.

“B-But he can’t fly now!” You wept, shaking your head. In your emotional state, the sight of a baby bluebird struggling to lift its wings and fly was heartbreaking. How could mother nature be so cruel?

“But he will learn. His mother will teach him, and he will learn, and one day, he’s going to be the most graceful bird, flying in the skies of Nueva York.” When he finished talking, you looked up at him, eyes wide with wonder. How beautifully they sparkled in the afternoon sun.

“He will?”

“Sí, cariño. He will.” Miguel dipped down to catch your lips in a tender kiss. You kissed him just as delicately, trailing your hand up to his jaw. Your fingerprints left a pathway of sparkles and magic in their wake, making Miguel wish he would never let go.

These emotional outbursts happened at the most random times.

One day, you spotted a heart-shaped stone on the pavement and teared up. That moment, you turned to your husband and hugged him tightly, proclaiming your love for him, and appreciating all he did for you. In return, Miguel kissed you on the tip of your nose, softly, as if you’d break were he to apply more pression and vowed to love you eternally.

Sometimes, you’d burst out laughing at the silliest things.

While watching a movie, the lead character uttered the word “butt”.

For a few 30 minutes, you’d laughed and laughed and laughed, swearing you’d never heard anything as funny as the word “butt” being spoken by the actor on the screen.

When you got angry, you got angry.

Someone littered on the street? Miguel would have to hold you back from following the person and lecturing their brains out. You’d always been quite feisty, but this pregnancy brought out the fearlessness in you even more.

And let’s not forget that time when a woman tried to flirt with your husband at the supermarket, while you had gone to fetch some of your most recent craving (ketchup and watermelon). The audacity! The woman giggled and twirled her hair, while Miguel tried to politely reject her advances.

When the woman reached out to touch his arm (an action that made Miguel frown and take a step back), you figured that was the last straw. You knew Miguel to be faithful – he’d never dare to cheat on you, not even in his dreams. Your love was the kind of love seen in movies, in fairytales – everlasting and true.

Before your husband could say a word, you stepped right in front of you.

“Do you want anything?” 

You didn’t care about coming off as rude, all you cared about was putting this cheeky woman in her place.

“Yes, I was just – I was speaking with this man right here. Is there a problem?” She asked, crossing her arms.

“Considering this man right here is married to me,” You lifted your left hand, giving the woman a glance of your wedding ring. “And definitely not interested, I would say that, yes, there is a problem. So if you could just turn around and leave him alone, since he’s clearly not interested, that would be very much appreciated.”

The woman gawked at you, mouth agape. She looked like a fish!, you later commented with your husband. She even tried opening and closing her mouth a few times, but to no avail. She was truly speechless.

So, you held onto your husband’s arm (who by now was shamelessly snickering) and left.

Miguel could clearly see you were fuming! You kept going on and on about how shameless the woman was, how you could definitely take her on a fight if you weren’t pregnant, how he was too handsome and shouldn’t be allowed to leave the house because men and women everywhere drooled at the sight of him –

It was endearing, to say the least. Sure, he liked to protect you and make sure everyone knew you were irrevocably his, but he would be lying if he said his gorgeous wife being overprotective of him wasn’t a sight that made his heart skip (and his pants tighten. As soon as you two got home, he was all over you).

Your anger could be triggered by anything – a broken plate, someone chewing too loud, people running on the street, etc.

You were like a ticking bomb!

But to Miguel, all of that made your pregnancy much more special.

It made his chest swell to know he was the one you went to when you craved something, when you were feeling sad, or when your anger boiled. It made him incredibly happy to know he was the one you trusted, and that he was able to share these precious moments with you.

Overall, Miguel would be the bestest, most amazing, most caring, most fantastic husband ever. He would dote on you 25/8, always making sure you felt comfortable and happy. And he would be oh so proud and happy to be by your side, so thankful the world granted him a chance to have a family, a real family, to love and cherish forever. He would fantasize about your future child with you, when it was late at night and the world was sleeping and promise you both the world.

Because let’s be honest, Miguel would do anything – and I mean anything for his family.

NSFW Section Ahead - Read at your own risk!

This man would become even more obsessed with you and your body.

You were rounder, plumper, thicker, and while sometimes it made you self-conscious at times, to him, it just meant he had more of you to love. You looked so… So his. Every time he looked at you, he’d be driven by this primal urge to have you.

The mere sight of you made him drool, no matter where you were or what you were doing. Making dinner? He was hugging you from behind, hands creeping underneath your shirt to caress your swollen breasts.

Watching tv? He was by your side, grabbing handfuls of your thighs and kissing your breath away.

When you attended early parenthood classes, he couldn’t help but stare at you throughout most of the lesson, picturing how pretty you would look on top of him, a moaning and writhing mess.

He would have you reclined, propped up on multiple pillows and pregnancy cushions in order not to strain your back and cause any pain or discomfort for you or the baby, legs spread as he eagerly lapped at your folds. Your hands would be on his hair, tugging, pushing and pulling and you mumbled incoherent sentences.

“Miggy, ‘s too much…” You’d babble mindlessly, sweat sticking to your forehead. He’d just rewarded you your… fourth? Fifth? Orgasm of the night, and you were sure he wasn’t intent on stopping.

“Shh, cariño, don’t worry,” Would be his response, muffled by the obscene sounds he made while he soothed your aching heat with his fingers. “Just one more, ¿si? One more f’me bonita, I know you can take it, please, you’re so good f’me… Is that okay? Will you let me?” And then he would look at you with those lust-blown eyes…

How could you deny him, when he treated you so well?

Spanish Translations

Chiquita - It's an endearment term, like "cutie", little one, little lady, etc ¿Si? - Yes? Mi amor - My love Coño - Shit, or fuck Cariño - Dear, sweetheart, it's an endearment term as well ¿Qué pasa? - What's wrong? ¿Perdón? - Excuse me?

A/N: I hope you liked it! Again, I'm really sorry for adding the NSFW part when you did not request it. I hope you don't mind that I did it - it just felt very natural to show this side of Miguel with a pregnant reader. I'm sure that he would be very intent on showing his love and appreciation physically as well as verbally! <3

Thank you for the amazing request! Have a nice day! :)

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara scenarios #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfiction #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x you #spiderman 2099 x reader #atsv x reader #atsv x you #astv x y/n #spiderverse fanfiction #across the spiderverse fanfiction #miguel spiderman #across the spiderverse #miguel ohara #miguel atsv

[st-danger]

What about the ghouls' horns being an erogenous zone for the ghouls and one of the Papas not realising while giving them horn scritches?

Terzo and Copia? Both touchy in their own ways. But while Terzo was intentional, every brush of fingers a loaded gun, a promise, Copia is...not so aware.

Aether is, perhaps, a little nasty for taking advantage of that. For getting a little something out of Copia that he doesn't know he's giving. Perverted. Just a little headache, he'd told him when Copia had found him resting his head in his hands. Paracetamol and other drug store sundries never work well for ghouls, even when they're taking a more human form, and certainly the effort of holding a glamour up when aching does nothing to help. So when Copia offers Aether his bed, offers to let him rest in his lap so he can rub his temples, of course he's quick to say yes.

He's a little wrong for asking Copia to remove his gloves. And he's nasty for not stopping him when absently, his fingers stroke away from his temple to rub at the base of a horn. The shock of pleasure is instant, sharp and intense and- he gasps, stomach clenching and Copia immediately withdraws.

"Oh. Is it very painful there?"

Aether sucks in a breath, and feels momentarily guilty. This behavior, he could expect it from someone like Omega. Dew, maybe. Ifrit for sure.

"It's sore," Aether mumbles, lying through his pointed teeth. Even just that little touch makes his tail go stiff. And he's about to use him to get stiff in other places, too. Oh, he shouldn't. He really shouldn't. Bad. Wrong. Dirty. And yet... "Would probably helped if you rubbed there for a little bit."

"Certainly," Copia says, and begins a gentle caress. "As long as you'd like."

Aether shuts his eyes tight, and bites his tongue at the sensation, frissions of pleasure sparking down his spine to somewhere lower. More private.

"And how is that?"

Aether curls up, draws the knee of his outside leg up just enough to provide a little coverage of his lap. Afford him a little privacy because this is going to get him hard in no time at all, and he ought to be truly ashamed.

"S'good," he says. Feeling Copia's bare hand there, when usually there is leather in the way feels even more perverse. His fingertips trace the seam where his horn meets his head and his cock begins to tingle. True to his word, he just...rubs. Touches. Hums contentedly while he thinks he's helping Aether handle the worst of his headache, wickedly unaware that he's doing more to help get his short, thick cock all red and heavy than he is the headache.

He tries very hard to keep his breath steady. To hold the whines and the low moan that threatens to bubble up safe within. He should stop Copia. But then what? Stand up and try to leave the room with his back turned so Copia doesn't see his cock pressed against his pants, tenting?

"Do your horns ever hurt?" Copia asks, and the question pulls him out of his thoughts in an instant. "I've had toothaches. Is it like that?"

"I don't know," Aether says, "I've never had one."

"Well I suppose it isn't the tooth itself that hurts, is it?" Copia muses. "It's the nerves inside, really." Oh, he does not want to listen to Copia discuss teeth. "Do your horns have nerves inside?"

They do. He doesn't need to know how many, though.

"Could you try rubbing those too? Might help. Maybe." Like he doesn't know. Like he isn't aware of the effect it has, like he's never asked Dew to stroke them while he masturbates to send him hurtling over the edge.

Slow, careful fingers start to slide up and down one, and then the other, and he feels himself grow hot and fat in his pants.

"How is that?"

"Would it- I'm a little cold," Aether lies. "Would you hand me a blanket?"

"Oh, certainly," Copia says with zero hesitation, leaning away for a moment to snatch a throw, and peel it open from how it's been folded. Draping it over Aether. Covering. Privacy. Brings it up to his neck.

He tries to make it look like a casual adjustment in position, snuggling under and crossing his hands over his chest. He has to fight to hold the moan when Copia's hands return to his head, only this time, it's both hands, one on each horn.

He uses his thumbs to brush over his nipples, feel them peaked through his shirt. Brushing back and forth and getting them good and stiff. Copia can't see under the blanket. He can pleasure himself here and he won't be any the wiser.

His face his hot.

Nasty, he thinks. So bad. But he wants to be touched and made to feel good and-

"Okay?" Copia asks.

"Maybe a little faster?" Aether asks in a small voice. The guilt leaking through. Copia doesn't notice.

"Of course, my ghoul," he says.

Aether gives his nipples a surreptitious little tweak.

"Just relax, eh? No need to be so tense. Relax for your Papa."

"Okay," he manages.

He forces himself to draw a deep breath.

Under the blanket, his dick throbs.

"Once we get this sorted, I'll rub you there, too." Copia hums. Knowing. He sounds amused.

Aether whimpers, ashamed, face hot.

#st-speaks #ghost #the band ghost #ghost fic #ghost fanfiction #ghost headcanons #aether ghoul #nameless ghouls #cardinal copia #papa emeritus iv #papa emeritus #copia/aether #copia x aether #papa/aether #papa x aether #copia

[ribbonswrld]

Bada different ways of showing love: like her different love languages and what she does 👀

I GOTCHUU I LOVE THIS

how bada shows love/bada's love languages!

cw: tooth rotting fluff, barely proofread, english is not my native language, enjoy <3

physical touch ;;

BACK 👏 HUGS 👏 ALWAYS 👏 !! literally cannot help herself. she gravitates towards you and always somehow finds herself leaning against you and holding you close from behind TT

and i think she absolutely will just always kiss you everywhere all the time. like i said she just always gravitates towards you and cant help pressing a chaste kiss wherever she can; the top of your head, your cheek, your nose, the crook of your neck, the corner of your lips...

holding your hand!! always!! and she definitely is the type to take your hand in hers and then stuff them in her pocket. she absolutely softly caresses your hand with her thumb as u guys r holding them :((

no matter your height, bada loves loves LOVES to pick you up and sway you in her arms!! and she melts if you are the one to jump in her arms and cling to her like a baby koala <33

she also will just. absolutely pull you on her lap. no matter the situation like. that is YOUR seat. sure sitting next to her and being able to lean on eachother is great but she really loves having you sit there and being able to hold you firmly!!

i think also like in the context of sitting on her lap for example she loves mindlessly rubbing your belly, your hips, your sides confortingly... she just loves everything about you and wants to touch you constantly </3

words of affirmation ;;

bada's second love language would absolutely be words of affirmation like. she just is so endeared by everything you do and you HAVE to know just how much she thinks you're adorable and pretty and amazing!!!

she passes out praise like free candy on halloween, for every little thing!!

basically always puts a "my" before every petname bc!! you're hers!!

even if you had a rough day and barely did anything she will still continue to praise you and comfort you.

"you did well, it's okay my baby. i know today was hard but i'm so proud of you."

will always remind you of how much she loves you every single day <3

acts of service

i think she absolutely loves to take care of you!!

for example, she likes taking a bath or shower with you and just wash your hair for you with soft touches and kisses... and then insists on helping you with skincare & blow drying your hair...

also gives KILLER massages like.!! girlie is a dancer, she knows muscle pain & knows how to relieve certain aches.

she loves to cook for you <3

also is always down to help you with whatever you work on!! shes passionate about what YOU'RE passionate about!! :((

quality time ;;

i think bada is absolutely the type to have a whole list of date ideas like. you WILL have atleast one date per week.

but tbf for her it doesnt really matter what you're doing as long as you are spending time together aw

she really really REALLY loves indulging you and your interests so if you want to go somewhere specific you WILL go together and she WILL spoil you and listen to your happy rambles.

however she also MELTS when you do the same for her like... she wants to go see this dance troupe? okay you'll come with her because you know that'll make her happy!! and she loves you for it. she loves how you both take interest in eachother's interests lol

i think shes also the type to be like "i miss my wife... it's been 4 years since she went at war..." and then you "babe we saw eachother an hour ago" and then she "one hour TOO LONG :("

i just made myself melt

anyway yeah shes definitely clingy and will miss u always hence why she loves spending time with you <3

gifts ;;

good heavens this woman LOVES to spoil you!!

every now and then she'll check her notes app to go thru things you've mentioned wanting/liking (yes i think she absolutely writes down anything she thinks you might want to have) and will go hm! i will buy her this today!

and if you're someone who isnt used to getting gifts like that and gets nervous about it moneywise i think she'll indulge you EVEN MORE!! but will also respect your boundaries to make you comfy so like if you don't feel comfortable with her giving you extra expensive stuff often? no problem she'll hold herself back and be smart about her purchases for you. although money is not an issue for her, she respects your financial ideals and boundaries <3

this made me so happy to write thank u nonnie for this adorable request <3!! i hope u enjoy!! and also bada definitely loves when YOU are the one to show your love the way she does <3 its all mutual!!

#bada lee #bada lee x reader #fem reader #sapphic #wlw #bada x reader #bebe x reader #lesbian #ribo answers!! #ribo writes!! #fluff #swf2 x reader #street woman fighter x reader #street woman fighter 2 #team bebe #team bebe x reader #bada lee fanfic #bada lee imagine

[lets-go-hurt-someone]

I do enjoy a lot of deranged Durge nonsense but honestly the most depraved fantasy I have for Durge and Astarion is just how much I think they cuddle.

The way I see it, they probably just get cosy and make out all night for like… most of the game. Sure they probably also legit lick blood off each other at some point and at least one of them is literally turned on by murder but these are two people who have not had full control of themselves or their bodies in a very, very long time. Durge still doesn’t and won’t until the story is almost over. And when they’re not stabbing and shit-stirring and whatnot-ing, I firmly believe they are having the most sickening, tooth-achingly sweet moments full of the most respectful of caresses and probably keeping it above the belt. Maybe some butt squeezes. But you know. PG-13 shit.

So I don’t really care about or think about Durgestarion fucking nasty and being wild and filthy. One day when they’re ready I’m sure they’ll have insane degenerate sex again (you can’t tell me they’re not both freaks at heart) and I love that for them but like. I don’t see it during the game timeline and it’s not as interesting character-wise to me. I genuinely think they’re both mostly focused on figuring out how to get comfortable being present in their bodies and learning how to trust themselves and each other and how to experience pleasure for their own sakes… for maybe the first time ever.

I’m more interested in Durge not really knowing what to do at all and maybe finding out Astarion has really sensitive ears and nibbling on his earlobe just to hear him make a happy little noise — surprised at how much he likes making someone moan in pleasure instead of pain for once.

Or Astarion figuring out just the right spot to kiss on Durge’s neck so he gasps in delight, and how he likes that even better than just feeding on him straight away.

Both of them, on the receiving end of something sensual and gentle and lovely for once and getting to enjoy it without being punished for it or pushed for more. Getting to experience the simple safety of just holding and being held and knowing you’re treasured for you and no one is going to make you do anything you don’t want to ever again, and your partner is happy to help you figure out what you do want when you’re ready.

And that’s it. That’s my kink. It’s actually just fucked up people accepting each other completely and showing each other the soft kindness they never got from anyone else and accidentally healing along the way.

Then they can go on being happy little freaks forever, amen.

#get loved losers #it’s so sappy and lame I know #I even disgust myself with this filth #fucking cuddling eugh #bg3 durge #bg3 #astarion ancunin #bg3 meta #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 dark urge #durgestarion #astarion #dark urge #durge #durge x astarion #astarion x durge